#before everything they all had to go through some kind of something some kind of development

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　GRAMMYS 2025

chris sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N, worldwide famous singer, goes to the Grammys 2025 and brings Chris as her pair for the first time.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is MY idea and work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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Y/N had been nominated for five Grammy Awards this year. Five. And yet, for some reason, the thought of stepping onto that carpet, under the flashing lights and watchful eyes of the entire world, made her more nervous than she’d ever been.

It wasn’t her first time - this was her fifth Grammy appearance - but the nerves never seemed to dull, no matter how many times she did this.

Her team had tried everything: chamomile tea, soothing massages, deep breathing exercises, playing her favorite calming playlist at a low volume in the background, even giving her a dozen of those custom-made chocolates with her face printed on them. But nothing helped. Not really.

Not even Chris’s kisses; though she had to admit, they were a very welcome distraction.

They were in a penthouse suite of a luxurious hotel in downtown Los Angeles, even though their house was barely a twenty-minute drive away. It was protocol, her team insisted. Every artist did it - getting ready in a hotel, away from distractions, with stylists, makeup artists, and PR people swarming around. It was meant to be a controlled environment, a perfectly curated lead-up to the biggest night in music. But it only added to the pressure.

Y/N stood in front of a massive floor-to-ceiling mirror, wrapped in a silk robe, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as a makeup artist blended soft eyeshadow onto her lids. Her hairstylist was behind her, curling strands of her hair into loose waves. She looked poised on the outside, but internally, her nerves were tying knots in her stomach.

Chris sat on the couch a few feet away, watching her intently. He was already dressed - black tux, crisp white shirt, and a bow tie he had spent fifteen minutes fighting with before her makeup artist took pity on him and fixed it for him.

He looked good.

Really good.

The kind of good that made her momentarily forget about the nerves. But she wasn’t the only one nervous tonight.

Chris had been jittery since this morning, though he tried not to show it. This was his first time attending something this big, this formal, and while he was used to attention, this was a whole new level. He was going to be surrounded by the most famous people in the world, and for the first time, he wasn’t just Chris Sturniolo, the YouTuber; he was Chris Sturniolo, Y/N’s date to the Grammys.

But instead of letting his own anxiety get to him, he focused on her, observing how her fingers twitched, manicured nails shining below the lights with every tremble.

"Baby." He cooed, standing and walking toward her as soon as the makeup artist stepped aside. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her exposed shoulder, his big hands finding home around her hips, squeezing the covered skin. "What are you feeling, huh? 'Can feel you stressing from across the room, doll."

Y/N sighed, her hands gripping the edges of the vanity table, being careful not to knock her knuckles against the three massive bouquets - Nick had arranged for all of them to be delivered straight to her room in that morning.

"I just... I don’t know, Chris." She murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "I know I’ve done this before, but what if I don’t win anything? What if I disappoint everyone?"

Before she could spiral any further, Chris was already moving. His hands slid from her hips to her stomach, wrapping around her in a slow embrace. He pulled her against him, his chest firm against her back, the heat of his body seeping through the thin fabric of her robe.

"Hey." He whispered, lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "Don’t do that."

His voice was gentle but firm, a quiet command that sent a shiver down her spine. She felt his breath against her neck, warm and familiar, grounding her.

"First of all." He continued, his arms tightening around her middle. "You’re the best singer out of everyone in that room tonight. You know that, right?"

Her eyes rolled.

"Baby, you can't say that when Billie Eilish, Taylor Swift-" She started, turning her head slightly, but he was already shaking his head.

"Nope." He cut in, resting his chin in the curve of her neck, his gaze locking onto hers through the mirror. "I said what I said. And for the record." He added, voice lower now, dripping with conviction. "You’re already the winner of everything in my book. Even the categories you’re not nominated in."

She sighed, heart pounding as his hands splayed across her stomach, his thumbs brushing slow, absentminded circles.

"Best Album? Yours." He murmured, letting his lips ghost over her jaw. "Best Song? Yours." His mouth traveled down to her shoulder, barely pressing against her skin, yet setting every nerve ending alight. "Best Human Being to Ever Exist?" He turned his head just enough to meet her eyes in the mirror again, his smirk soft but teasing. "You, obviously."

She let out a small, shaky laugh.

"Chris-"

"I’m serious." He interrupted, turning his head and nuzzling the soft skin of her temple, inhaling the rich scent of her Givenchy perfume. "Your fans love you. I love you. And, babe, let’s be honest, you could drop a single of you just breathing into a mic, and it would still go platinum."

That made her laugh, her eyes rolling with amusement.

"You’re gonna do your best tonight, like you always do. And no matter what happens, I’ll be right there with you."

She finally turned in his hold, her arms looping around his neck and her red tinted lips forming a small pout.

"Even if I trip on the carpet?"

"I’ll trip with you. We’ll make it a trend." Chris grinned, pressing a lingering kiss to the tip of her nose, being excessively careful not to smudge her perfect makeup. "Now, I think there's a worldwide famous singer who should be getting dressed, huh?"

Y/N's eyes stared into blue ones for a moment, smiling with the softness she found in them.

"Yeah... Yeah, you're right."

A sharp knock at the door broke their haze, followed by a loud voice.

"Y/N!"

The voice was unmistakable, high-pitched and full of dramatic flair, and before Y/N could even turn, Harry Lambert had burst into the room, arms spread wide, eyes scanning her from head to toe with theatrical disbelief.

"Oh. My. GOD." He practically floated toward her, his hands fluttering in the air like he was physically trying to grasp the vision before him. "Darling, how dare you stand there looking this stunning before even getting into your dress?"

Y/N barely had time to react before he pulled her into a tight hug, arms wrapped around her like he hadn’t seen her in years - even though they had spoken just yesterday. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, holding her there for a beat longer than necessary, his touch radiating warmth and love.

"My baby girl." He cooed, pulling back slightly to cup her face. "How are we feeling? Nervous? Excited? On the verge of a breakdown?"

"All of the above." Y/N admitted, letting out a breathy laugh as he studied her with fondness.

Harry clicked his tongue.

"Well, you shouldn’t be, because you’re about to own this night. And if anyone so much as dares to breathe in your direction the wrong way, I will be throwing hands."

Chris chuckled from behind them.

"Good to see you, Harry."

"Christopher!" Harry turned to him with a dazzling smile, patting his chest in greeting before narrowing his eyes playfully. "The suit I chose for you was a very good choice, huh? Gucci looks good on you. Now, let’s be clear, your only job tonight is to stand there, look pretty, and worship Y/N like the goddess she is. Do you understand me?"

Chris raised his hands in surrender.

"Oh, trust me, I’ve been doing that since the second I met her."

Y/N felt her cheeks warm as Harry clapped his hands together.

"That’s my boy. Now, enough chit-chat! It is officially time to get my queen into the dress."

The entire room seemed to shift as the energy buzzed with anticipation. Y/N was ushered toward the dressing area, where the Gucci gown had been carefully laid out, glowing under the soft lights. Even without being worn, it commanded attention - the gold fabric shimmering as if infused with actual stardust, the dramatic ruffles sculpted to perfection.

As they helped her into it, every detail came to life. The strapless silhouette hugged her body in all the right places, the embedded crystals catching every flicker of light. The metallic sleeves, voluminous and artful, cascaded around her arms, while the matching ruffles at the bottom framed her steps with effortless grace.

When the final adjustments were made, Harry stepped back, his hands pressed to his chest as if he might faint.

"Oh, sweet heavens above." He whispered, looking genuinely overwhelmed. "I’ve outdone myself. We’ve outdone ourselves."

Chris, who had been sitting on the bed answering his brothers texts, looked up with Harry's voice, suddenly straightening up. His hands dropped to his lap, and his mouth hung open slightly, completely speechless.

"Wow." His voice came out strangled, like he had just been personally attacked.

Y/N turned toward him fully, the movement making the crystals on her dress shimmer, the light practically bending to her will. Chris visibly short-circuited.

"Are you- what- how-" He inhaled sharply, shaking his head as if trying to reboot his brain. "Nah. Nah. This isn’t fair. This should be illegal."

Y/N bit her lip, fighting a smile, but his reaction only got worse. His fingers threaded into his hair, his eyes raking over her from head to toe with pure, unfiltered obsession.

"Jesus fuck." He breathed out, voice a little rough. "You’re gonna kill me tonight, doll."

Harry smirked, tilting his head as he admired her.

"Oh, she’s not just going to kill you, Christopher. She’s going to kill everyone at the Grammys tonight. And I, for one, cannot wait to watch it happen."

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The energy outside the venue was electric. Even from inside the tinted Range Rover, the deafening sound of flashing cameras and screaming paparazzi was unavoidable. Y/N shifted in her seat, inhaling slowly, feeling the vibration of the excitement just beyond the doors.

A hand suddenly slid over her thighs, warm and grounding, caressing the fabric of her dress.

"Ready?" Chris asked, his voice softer than the chaos outside.

Y/N turned to him, wetting her matte lipstick lips.

"Yeah." She breathed, even though her heart was hammering.

Chris smirked knowingly.

"Liar."

Before she could argue, the car door swung open, and an immediate wave of screams hit them like a storm.

Chris stepped out first, adjusting his suit as flashes exploded around him, the sound of his name already being yelled from every direction. He quickly moved around to face the inside of the car, offering his hand.

The second Y/N emerged, the chaos tripled.

"Y/N! Y/N! Over here!"

"Y/N! Christopher! Are you two official?"

"Y/N, do you think you’ll win tonight?"

Y/N barely flinched at the shouting - it was part of the job. Instead, she kept her chin high, gripping Chris’s hand as they made their way down the carpet. The venue was bathed in red and gold hues, a massive step-and-repeat wall covered in Grammy logos standing proudly ahead. The air buzzed with anticipation, celebrities lining the edges of the carpet, all waiting for their moment in front of the cameras.

A staff member approached, guiding them toward a designated spot.

"You first, Ms. Y/N." The woman instructed.

Chris gave Y/N a gentle squeeze before stepping aside, allowing her to take center stage.

And damn, did she own it.

The second she posed, the already flashing cameras seemed to explode.

The fitted, gold gown clung to her frame like liquid metal, sparkling under the lights. The voluminous, ruffled sleeves caught the air as she shifted her stance, making her look like some sort of celestial being - untouchable, ethereal. She turned her head smoothly, flashing a radiant smile as the photographers shouted for her attention.

Chris, standing just a few feet away, was not handling it well. His eyes never left her, completely entranced, like he was seeing her for the first time again, not even noticing the flashs directed to his figure.

Y/N, catching his expression, couldn’t help but smile shyly. She subtly tilted her head toward him between poses, raising a teasing brow.

Chris just shook his head, still gawking, before muttering under his breath.

"Jesus Christ."

The staff member signaled for Chris to approach Y/N for their couple photos. Y/N turned toward him, making a playful shooing motion with her hands as if to snap him out of his trance.

"Earth to Chris." She teased.

Chris didn’t respond - not verbally, at least. Instead, he stepped closer with large steps and grabbed her by the waist, carefully pulling her flush against him, careful with her heels but firm enough to steal a delighted gasp from her. The moment their bodies pressed together, the screams from the crowd outside the barricades and the clicking of cameras reached a new level of hysteria.

The cameras loved them.

Chris leaned in between shots, his lips brushing her ear.

"You think they got food inside?"

Y/N barely bit back a laugh, keeping her expression poised as she continued smiling for the cameras.

"What, you mean like caviar and tiny-ass lobster rolls?"

"I don’t care if it’s a plate of lettuce. I need to eat something before I pass out."

Y/N snorted softly with how dramatic he could be, bumping her hips against his just slightly, careful not to disrupt the pictures.

"You ate almost all of those chocolates back in the hotel. Where does it even go?"

Chris grinned, his fingers squeezing at her waist, effectively freezing her in place.

"Wouldn’t you like to know?"

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a giggle.

"Be serious, Sturniolo."

"I am serious." He looked at her then, really looked at her, and it sent something warm and electric curling down her spine. "You are so fucking beautiful, it’s actually stupid."

Y/N faltered for half a second, her breath catching, not from the flashing lights, not from the cameras, but from him.

Chris chuckled, clearly pleased her reaction.

"Want to give y'a post-celebration present so bad." His voice switched to low and airy, almost lost beneath the noise, but she heard it perfectly.

Y/N swallowed, her mind jumping to conclusions she probably shouldn’t be having on the Grammys red carpet.

"Hm, and what would that be?"

Chris smirked, his fingers flexing at her waist.

"Eat y’out."

Y/N kept her composure like a pro, smiling for the cameras with a practiced grin, but discreetly pressed her thighs together. Two could play this game.

But before she could fire back, a voice interrupted.

"Alright, guys! We need to move to the next area!"

Another event staff member gestured for them to proceed toward the interview section, their tone polite but firm. Y/N exhaled slowly, her heart thudding inside her ears.

Chris sighed dramatically, his grip on her waist tightening for just a second before he let go, traveling up to her hand.

"And here I was, thinking we could just stay here all night."

Y/N squeezed his fingers, tugging him forward.

"Come on, you menace."

As they walked toward the interview zone, the setup became clearer - a sleek, well-lit platform lined with various media outlets, each interviewer eagerly awaiting their next celebrity guest. But before Y/N could even register who was up next, a familiar voice rang out, unmistakably enthusiastic.

"Y/N, oh my God! Get over here!"

Emma Chamberlain.

Y/N's face lit up immediately, and without hesitation, she pulled Chris along, their hands still intertwined as they made a beeline toward Emma. The internet personality-turned-Grammys correspondent was practically bouncing on her heels, her eyes wide with excitement.

As soon as they reached her, Emma lifted her microphone with dramatic flair.

"Ladies and gentlemen, five-time Grammy-nominated Y/N L/N, everyone!"

Y/N laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"No way you just said that like an awards show host."

Emma grinned.

"I am an awards show host." Then, turning to Chris, she playfully narrowed her eyes. "And, of course, let’s not forget the man of the hour, Chris Sturniolo!"

Chris chuckled, giving a small wave, the silver ring on his index finger glinting against the camera flash.

"That’s me."

Emma wasted no time diving into questions, her energy infectious.

"Okay, first things first, how are you feeling?" She pointed the mic toward Y/N.

Y/N exhaled, a bright smile still gracing her lips.

"Honestly? I’m just... I don’t even know how to put it into words. Happy? Grateful? In shock? All of it at once?" She shook her head in disbelief. "I mean, the Grammys. It’s something you dream about as a kid, you know? And now, five nominations? I feel like I need someone to pinch me."

Chris gently squeezed her hand, leaning in slightly so his mouth was close to the mic, his cheek brushing hers in the process.

"Not gonna lie, I did pinch her earlier to check."

Y/N playfully swatted at him, making Emma laugh.

"Alright, but tell me everything. What were you doing when you found out you were nominated?"

At this, Y/N turned to Chris, already laughing.

"Oh my God, it was chaos."

Chris grinned, nodding while brushing his messy hair back.

"Totally."

Y/N faced Emma again, still giggling.

"Okay, so we were just in the living room, me, Chris, Matt, and Nick. It was so casual, literally just us eating burgers, watching the nominations roll in on TV, not thinking much of it."

Emma’s eyes widened.

"Wait, so you weren’t even refreshing Twitter like a maniac?"

"No!" Y/N shook her head. "I swear, I wasn’t even expecting anything. And then, boom. My name gets called for the first nomination, and I just screamed."

"Nick screamed, too." Chris jumped in, laughing.

Emma gasped.

"Nick would."

Y/N nodded rapidly.

"He did! So then, Chris kisses me, Matt’s literally jumping up and down, and it was just full-on mayhem. But then, like, a minute later, my name gets called again for another nomination."

Chris smirked, nodding his head.

"And again. And again."

Emma covered her mouth, delighted.

"So by the fifth time-"

"I was crying." Y/N admitted, grinning. "Like, full-on sobbing in Chris’s arms."

Emma dramatically put her free hand against her heart.

"This is what I live for." Then, turning to Chris, she grinned mischievously. "Alright, your turn, Sturniolo."

Chris blinked, looking at Y/N before going back to Emma.

"Me?"

Emma nodded, dead serious.

"Yes, you. Because I know you, you act all cool and chill, but I know you were losing your mind when she got nominated."

Chris laughed, shaking his head.

"I mean, yeah, obviously. I was going crazy. But I think it really hit me when I looked at her during the last nomination and realized, this is actually happening. Like, she’s that talented. The world is seeing what I already knew."

Y/N felt her face heat up, a mix of emotions swirling in her chest.

Emma pouted.

"Chris, that's so wholesome. You’re really that boyfriend, huh?"

Chris shrugged, squeezing Y/N’s hand.

"I mean, yeah. Have you met her?"

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, but her smile didn’t fade.

"I know, right?" Emma nodded at Chris's direction, laughing with Y/N's reaction. "Now, tell me, which nomination are you most excited about?"

Y/N didn’t even hesitate.

"Song of the Year."

Emma’s brows lifted.

"Because...?"

Y/N took a breath, her fingers unconsciously tightening around Chris’s hand.

"Because the song nominated for that category is Lavender Haze, and that song... it just means so much to me." She glanced at Chris, her expression softer now.

Emma’s eyes darted between the two of them, her curiosity sparking instantly. She glanced at Y/N, then at Chris, before turning toward the camera with exaggerated wide eyes.

"Ohhh, I know that look." She teased, pointing between them with a knowing grin. "Okay, spill, tell me about the song."

Y/N let out a breathy laugh with how eager she sounded, meeting Emma’s gaze again.

"You'll know all about it if I win." She winked, her tone warm.

Chris was quick to approach the microphone again.

"Not if, when."

Emma tilted her head, frowning as a pout grew on her lips.

"No way you're going to leave me with this curiosity." She sighed dramatically. "I guess I'll need to watch the awards with double attention." Emma winked to the camera. "Okay, I’m obsessed with you guys. This is too cute. But I won’t keep you any longer, go enjoy your night! And, Y/N, fingers crossed for all five wins!"

Y/N beamed, giving Emma one last hug before she and Chris were guided to the next section of the event. As they walked, the lights of the Grammys venue shining ahead, Chris leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear.

"You’re killing it, doll."

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The moment Y/N and Chris stepped into the grand main salon, the shift in the atmosphere was almost physical. The flashing lights of the red carpet were behind them, replaced by the elegant glow of chandeliers and the soft hum of conversation. Celebrities, industry giants, and music legends filled the expansive room, dressed in their finest, the air buzzing with anticipation.

A staff member immediately approached them with a warm smile, gesturing toward their assigned table.

"Good evening, Ms. L/N, Mr. Sturniolo. Right this way, please."

As they walked through the lavishly decorated space, Y/N’s fingers instinctively tightened around Chris’s hand, her nerves still tingling with the knowledge that the biggest names were around her.

Halfway to their table, a familiar voice called out from the side.

"Chris! No way- dude!"

Chris turned toward the sound, a grin instantly spreading across his face when he saw Troye Sivan standing up from his table, waving him over.

Troye had met Chris and his brothers just two weeks ago at a Prada fashion show, and the energy between them had been instantly chill and friendly.

"Troye, hey, what’s up, man?" Chris greeted as he pulled him in for a quick hug.

Meanwhile, Y/N turned toward Sabrina Carpenter, who was seated beside Troye in the most ethereal baby blue dress, its delicate fabric flowing like water over her frame.

"Sabrina, hi!" Y/N greeted, her voice lighting up as she fully took in the details of her look. "Wow, you look absolutely stunning. Like, actually unreal."

Sabrina’s eyes widened for a split second, surprise flashing across her face before it melted into the sweetest, most genuine smile. Without a second thought, she pushed herself up from her seat, reaching for Y/N as if they were lifelong friends and pulling her into a warm, affectionate hug. She squeezed tightly, her energy radiating pure kindness.

"Oh my god, stop." Sabrina gushed, pulling back just enough to look at Y/N, her hands still resting gently on her arms. "That means the world coming from you. And please, look at you!" She emphasized, eyes scanning Y/N from head to toe with genuine admiration. "You look like an actual goddess."

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head as she absentmindedly smoothed her hands over the golden fabric of her dress.

"It’s all Lambert’s magic." She admitted with a playful grin, referring to her trusted stylist. Then, with a spark of excitement, she added. "I heard you’re performing tonight, I cannot wait to see it!"

Sabrina practically bounced in place, her excitement just as contagious.

"Oh, that makes me so nervous but also so happy." She admitted with a laugh, her hands clasping together. "I just hope I don’t trip or something."

Y/N shook her head instantly.

"No way, you’re going to kill it. I already know it."

Chris and Troye exchanged a few more words, something about how amazing the Prada show had been and how they should schedule to do something together in the future, before Chris gave him a casual pat on the shoulder.

"We’ll catch up later, yeah? We gotta find our table before they go live."

Troye grinned.

"For sure. Enjoy the night, guys."

After one last big smile at Sabrina, Y/N slipped her hand back into Chris’s as they navigated through the room.

Their table was positioned with a perfect view of the stage, the paper cards on their seats spelling out their names in black ink below a selected picture of their faces.

As they sat down, Y/N exhaled, glancing up at the stage. A quick glance at the massive countdown screen told her they had ten minutes before the live broadcast began.

"Damn." She muttered, leaning toward Chris. "Didn’t even realize how much time passed outside."

Chris chuckled, his voice low.

"That’s ‘cause you were too busy looking hot and stealing everyone’s attention."

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the amused smile that tugged at her lips.

"Come'ere, babe." He asked, extending his arm in her direction, asking silently for her to move closer.

Her eyes sparkled with affection, and she shifted her chair slightly, moving closer to Chris until she was practically pressed against his side. Without hesitation, he wrapped his extended arm around her upper body, pulling her in securely. The warmth of his body mixed with the familiarity of his presence was grounding and comforting.

Chris pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

Y/N tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes shining under the dimmed chandeliers.

"Thank you." She whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the room.

Chris furrowed his brows slightly, looking down at her, their faces so close he could feel her warm breath hitting his chin.

"For what?"

"For being here with me. For always being here for me."

His gaze softened immediately, and the way he looked at her - so full of quiet devotion - made her heart swell.

"Forever, baby." He murmured, squeezing her gently.

Before Y/N could say anything else, a new voice cut into their moment.

"Excuse me, I hope I’m not interrupting anything."

The voice was warm, familiar, and utterly unmistakable.

Both Y/N and Chris turned toward the sound, and in an instant, Y/N felt the entire world freeze. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttered, and for a brief, terrifying moment, she wondered if she had actually left her body.

Because standing there, just a few feet away, in all her effortless, golden-lit, legendary glory, was Taylor Swift.

Taylor Swift.

Y/N swore she could hear the heavens parting and angels singing in the background.

Taylor was an absolute vision in a stunning, strong red mini dress, her signature red lip effortlessly bold, her blonde hair framing her face in soft waves.

And she was smiling - smiling - at her.

"Oh my god." Y/N blurted out, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could even attempt to reel them back in.

Taylor let out a soft laugh as she shook her head lightly, eyes twinkling.

"I just wanted to say that I’m such a huge fan of your work. Lavender Haze is absolutely everything."

Y/N felt her soul leave her body.

Her brain quite literally short-circuited. Because- because what?

Taylor Swift, the Taylor Swift, her biggest inspiration, her songwriting idol, just complimented her music?

There was a very real possibility that she had just blacked out.

Chris shifted slightly beside her, maintaining his arm above the back of her chair, obviously trying so hard not to burst out laughing at how starstruck she looked.

Somehow, somehow, Y/N managed to keep her expression together, even though her heart was doing full-blown Olympic-level gymnastics in her chest.

"That means everything coming from you." She breathed, every word laced with pure, raw sincerity. "Thank you so, so much."

Taylor’s smile only widened, like she could feel how much those words meant to Y/N.

"Seriously." She said, her voice warm and genuine. "I’ve been listening to it on repeat. You’re insanely talented. The way you crafted that song... you have such a gift."

Y/N felt an actual tear prick at the corner of her eye. She wanted to scream. She wanted to hug her. She wanted to tattoo this moment onto her soul and never forget it.

And then, as if she couldn’t possibly adore her any more, Taylor turned to Chris, offering him the same bright, kind smile.

"And of course, you." She said, her tone playful but just as sincere. "I love what you and your brothers are doing on YouTube. It’s always fun seeing people bring fresh energy to the space."

Chris looked genuinely taken aback for a moment. His eyebrows lifted slightly, and for the first time, Y/N saw a flicker of oh wow, this is real life in his expression.

"That’s- wow, okay, that’s crazy." He said, running a hand through his hair with an incredulous chuckle. "Thank you, that’s- man, that’s insane coming from you."

Taylor grinned, her hand gently squeezing Y/N’s shoulder, grounding her back to reality.

"I won’t keep you guys." She said softly. "I just wanted to say that. Hope you both have the best night."

And just like that, she turned, walking back toward her table.

For a long, stunned second, Y/N just stood there, processing what had just happened. Then, with wide eyes, she turned to Chris, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Did that just happen?"

Chris, still looking way too amused, nodded, his grin stretching across his face.

"Yup." He confirmed. "And you just casually had a conversation with Taylor Swift like it was nothing."

Y/N let out a sharp exhale, pressing her hands over her face.

"I need a second."

Chris laughed, and before she could even register it, he was wrapping both arms around her, pulling her in tightly, his face pressing against her hair.

"Proud of you, popstar." He murmured, his voice laced with nothing but warmth.

Before she could respond, the lights dimmed, and the energy in the room shifted as a voice echoed through the speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your host for the 67th Annual Grammy Awards, Trevor Noah!"

A roar of cheers erupted as the towering LED screens flanking the stage flickered to life, displaying Trevor Noah’s wide, mischievous grin. He strolled onto the main floor rather than standing on the stage, seamlessly blending into the sea of round tables where the biggest names in the industry were seated.

He adjusted the microphone in his hand, letting the applause die down just enough before flashing a knowing smirk.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen." He began, his smooth voice carrying through the arena. "This is it, the 67th Grammys! Music’s biggest night! The Super Bowl for people who cried to Folklore, danced to Beyoncé, and worked out to Travis Scott, all in the same day!"

Laughter rippled through the crowd as the camera panned to a few artists nodding dramatically in agreement.

"And listen, let’s be honest. The Grammys are basically just a really fancy dinner party where we all pretend we haven’t been stalking the winners list since yesterday." Another wave of laughter followed. "But tonight... tonight, we are celebrating the best of the best in music. The songs that made us scream in our cars, the albums that made us question our entire existence, and the artists who consistently ruin our Spotify Wrapped every year."

Trevor began walking casually between the round tables, grinning as he looked around at the audience.

"And let’s not forget the real stars of the night, the seating arrangements. Have you seen these tables? It’s like the ultimate Hunger Games. You got legends, you got rookies, and you got the poor artists who are just hoping they don’t get caught in an awkward cutaway during a joke."

The camera zoomed in on a few newer artists laughing nervously, earning a chuckle from the crowd.

Trevor continued weaving his way through the tables, his eyes scanning the sea of music’s biggest names.

"And speaking of icons." He said, stopping by a particular table. "Tonight, we have the one and only Y/N L/N with us!"

The moment her name left his lips, the entire arena erupted into cheers. The camera cut to Y/N’s table, her face instantly lighting up with a radiant smile. Chris grinned smugly as he watched her soak in the moment.

Y/N turned slightly to face the camera that was now focused on her, offering a soft wave. The massive screen above the stage displayed a live feed of her, the applause continuing as Trevor beamed.

"Now, listen, if you somehow missed it, Y/N is up for five nominations tonight!" Trevor announced, pointing at her with mock emphasis. "Five nominations, guys. For songs and the album she announced when she won last year. That’s how much of a legend she is."

Y/N let out a soft laugh, her cheeks warming as she watched herself on the big screen. The camera panned slightly to Chris, who was nodding with a smug expression, as if silently agreeing with every word Trevor was saying.

"Plus." Trevor continued, stepping closer to their table. "If Y/N wins tonight, she could be the first artist ever to win Album of the Year five times."

Gasps and cheers rippled through the audience, while Y/N’s smile grew impossibly wider.

"Which means, she would break the record of four wins set all the way back in 2024 by-" Trevor raised his free hand, making a show of pretending to check an invisible list on his palm. "Y/N L/N!"

The entire room erupted into even louder applause, whistles echoing through the space as Trevor dramatically motioned toward her again.

Y/N's eyebrows flew up, feigning surprise, trying to contain her giddiness while Chris chuckled beside her, mouthing 'that's my girl' to a camera pointing his way.

Trevor placed a hand on his hip, looking toward the camera with mock exasperation.

"So basically, Y/N is out here breaking her own records. Just casually deciding that four wins aren’t enough and going for five. That’s like running a marathon, winning, and then saying, 'You know what? Let’s do it again, backwards'."

More laughter filled the room, Y/N pressing a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling too much. Trevor grinned, looking at her one last time.

"Listen, Y/N, whatever happens tonight, you’re already a legend. But if you win that fifth Grammy, just promise me you won’t announce another album mid-acceptance speech. Give the rest of the industry a fighting chance, okay?"

Y/N laughed, shaking her head, and Chris patted her thigh under the table, looking thoroughly entertained.

Trevor winked before turning back to the audience, raising his mic once again.

"Alright, let’s get this incredible night started! We’ve got performances, surprises, and probably a few moments that’ll break the internet. Let’s do this!"

The crowd roared as the cameras pulled away, cutting to a sleek transition video, signaling the official start of the show. Y/N exhaled, stealing a glance at Chris, who simply grinned and pulled her back to his chest, pressing his lips against her cheek.

"You’re so winning tonight."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The moment the last notes of Birds of a Feather echoed through the grand hall, Y/N felt like she was floating. Billie Eilish had just delivered one of the most breathtaking performances she had ever seen, and she could still feel the goosebumps lingering on her arms.

She turned to Chris, her eyes shining with excitement, her heart still beating to the rhythm of the song.

"Billie is unreal." She gushed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Like, every time she performs, it’s like she’s singing straight to my soul."

Chris let out a chuckle, his arm draped lazily around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"Nick would actually kill to be here right now." His lips quirked up in amusement. "I bet he’s texting us like a mad man."

Y/N laughed softly, already imagining Nick’s all-caps messages blowing up their group chat. But before she could even think of checking, the stage lights dimmed slightly, and the screens around the venue shifted. A familiar melody played in the background as a figure gracefully stepped onto the stage. The chatter in the audience softened as people turned their attention to her.

Taylor Swift.

Y/N straightened in her seat, her heart picking up speed.

Chris immediately caught the change in her posture and smirked.

"Oh shit." He teased, giving her shoulder a little squeeze. "Your idol is speaking. Do you need me to hold you so you don’t pass out?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling in her chest.

Taylor approached the microphone with that effortless charm that made the entire room fall silent. She smiled warmly, tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ear before speaking.

"Good evening, everyone." She greeted, her voice carrying easily through the venue. "Tonight has been incredible so far, and I am so honored to be here presenting this next award."

Y/N opened a genuine smile, squeezing Chris's thigh below her fingers.

"Album of the Year is such a special award because it represents not just music, but stories. It’s about the albums that stayed with us, that shaped our emotions, our memories. The ones that became the soundtrack to our lives." Taylor continued, her expression softening as she held up the envelope. "And with that being said, the Grammy goes to..."

She slid her fingers under the flap and carefully pulled out the card, unfolding it with precision.

Y/N could feel Chris’s arms tighten around her. His body heat a cocoon around her own as she clutched onto him, her pulse thundering in her temple.

A second of silence stretched. Then Taylor’s eyes scanned the paper, and the biggest, brightest smile took over her face. Her gaze lifted, seemingly searching the crowd for someone.

Y/N furrowed her brows slightly.

Taylor found her.

And then, with a warmth that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine, Taylor announced.

"Y/N L/N, Midnights."

The world tilted.

For a solid moment, Y/N didn’t move. She couldn’t move. The air in her lungs disappeared, her vision blurred instantly with unshed tears, and her mouth fell open in pure, unfiltered shock, her hands hovering near her mouth, trembling as realization crashed into her like a tidal wave.

Album of the Year.

She won.

She won.

Chris, on the other hand, reacted immediately.

"YES!" He shouted, his voice cutting through the noise as he punched the air, his excitement completely unfiltered. People turned, smiling, laughing, but Chris didn’t care. His hands were already on Y/N, his eyes scanning her face.

She wasn’t breathing.

"Babe." His voice softened instantly as he leaned in, his forehead almost touching hers. "Hey, you did it."

Y/N sucked in a sharp, shaky breath, but it wasn’t enough. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over before she could stop them, her body shaking with the force of emotions she had no chance of containing.

A broken sob escaped her lips.

Chris pulled her in before she could crumple, wrapping her up in the kind of hug that blocked everything else out. His arms were warm, steady, his lips pressing against her forehead as he whispered, his voice firm this time.

"You did it."

Y/N let out a wet laugh against his shoulder, her fingers clutching onto him for just a second longer before she finally let go.

He gently lowered his head, making sure she looked at him.

And God, the way he was looking at her.

Like she had just built the entire universe with her bare hands.

"Go get your Grammy, winner." He murmured, the words slow and soft and filled with everything.

Y/N let out another broken breath, nodding before finally, finally turning toward the stage.

The journey to the top felt surreal, like she was floating. The cheers, the applause, the faces she recognized - people she had idolized - they all blurred together.

And then suddenly, she was there.

Standing at the top.

Face to face with Taylor Swift.

Who was smiling at her, waiting for her, Grammy in hand.

Y/N’s breath hitched all over again.

Her hands, still unsteady, reached out, fingers closing around the golden gramophone. The weight of it sent a whole new wave of emotions crashing into her.

Before she could even process what was happening, Taylor pulled her into a hug - tight, warm, real.

"Congratulations." Taylor whispered against her ear, and god, if that wasn’t the most surreal moment of Y/N’s entire life. "You deserve this so much."

A choked noise left Y/N’s lips as she nodded weakly, her throat too tight to speak.

She deserved this.

She deserved this.

Her fingers traced over the Grammy, like she needed physical proof that it was real before she finally turned to the microphone.

She inhaled deeply. Opened her mouth.

"I-I don’t even know what to say right now." She admitted, biting her bottom lip. "I’m- god, I’m just so honored."

The crowd cooed, and Y/N let out a breathless laugh of her own, shaking her head as more tears slipped down her cheeks.

"This is insane." She said, shaking her head slightly. "Being nominated in this category, alongside so many incredible artists, artists I’ve admired for years, was already more than I could’ve ever dreamed of. To even stand beside you all tonight, to celebrate music with you? That was already everything."

Her chest rose and fell as she blinked away the heat gathering behind her eyes, sweeping her gaze across the crowd.

"I have to thank my incredible producer, my team, every single person who helped bring this album to life." Her voice wavered, thick with emotion. "You guys took my wild, messy ideas and turned them into something real, something that I never could have done alone. And I will never stop being grateful."

She wet her lips, inhaling deeply before her smile stretched just a little wider.

"My fans..." Her voice caught slightly, her hand pressing over her heart. "You guys have given me everything. You’ve let me tell my stories, and you’ve listened over and over and over again. You’ve made this dream of mine possible, and I love you more than I can ever put into words."

The cheers swelled again, voices from every corner of the room shouting her name. Her grip on the Grammy tightened as she shifted her weight slightly.

"To my family, Matt and Nick, my biggest cheerleaders." She laughed softly, looking at the main camera pointing at her. "I love you guys, you already know that."

And then, as if the moment had been waiting for this, her gaze lifted to him. Her breath hitched, lips curling into a smile that was just for him.

"And lastly." She said, her voice softer now. "To my boyfriend, Chris."

A ripple of excitement spread through the audience, but Y/N didn’t hear it. Not when those impossibly blue eyes were locked onto hers, not when his expression softened with something so tender, so proud, it made her knees weak.

"Thank you for being the creative genius that you are." She said, eyes never leaving his. "For staying up with me in the studio when I couldn’t figure out the right melody, even when I was on hour ten of tweaking the same one."

Laughter rolled through the room, and Chris grinned, shaking his head.

"For never doubting me." She continued, her throat tightening. "Even when I doubted myself. For being my biggest supporter. My muse. Every song, every lyric... You are in all of them.”

Chris exhaled sharply, his jaw tensing, his hand pressing over his heart as if feeling her love for him.

"Thank you." She finished simply, her voice steady, full of everything she couldn’t quite put into words.

The applause was deafening. A roar of cheers, of love, of celebration.

But all Y/N could hear was the thundering of her own heart.

This was real.

She had just won Album of the Year for the fifth time in a row.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The massive screens on either side of the stage illuminated with Trevor Noah’s face again as he took the microphone, now standing above all of them, his signature charm radiating through the room.

"Alright, people." He started, a knowing smirk on his lips. "This is it, one of the most expected award of the night. Song of the Year."

The audience erupted into applause, a tangible wave of excitement washing over the room.

Y/N could barely hear it. Her entire body felt like it was wound up in a coil, so tight that she might snap. Her heart pounded mercilessly against her ribcage as she focused on the only thing grounding her - Chris’s hand wrapped tightly around hers.

She could feel the heat of his palm, the way his fingers curled firmly around hers, almost as if he knew she needed the anchor.

Trevor continued, his voice filling the grand space.

"Now, we all know Song of the Year isn’t just about a hit track. It’s about storytelling. It’s about lyrics that mean something that connects with people, that makes you feel something in your soul."

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut for a second. God, she felt like she was going to throw up.

Chris, meanwhile, kept his eyes locked on the stage, his jaw set, body tense. His grip on her hand tightening, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand once - just once - as if silently telling her, I’ve got you.

Trevor continued listing the nominees, their song snippets playing softly over the speakers, but Y/N’s mind was a blur. The only thing she could feel was her heartbeat hammering violently inside her chest.

She could barely hear Trevor’s next words over the rush of blood in her ears.

"And the Grammy goes to..."

A dramatic pause.

It felt endless. It felt cruel.

Y/N finally lifted her head, eyes darting to the stage.

Trevor’s gaze swept across the room before his smile widened.

"Y/N L/N, Lavender Haze!"

The room erupted. Applause, cheers bouncing off the walls, her own voice echoing from the speakers, but Y/N barely registered any of it.

Her breath hitched, her entire body jerking forward as if her heart had physically pulled her out of her seat. Her hands flew to her face, pressing against her eyes, trying to contain the overwhelming rush of emotions slamming into her all at once.

Oh, god. Oh, god.

Chris was already moving before she could even think. His chair scraped back, his arms were on her in an instant, pulling her up, grounding her before she could float away in all of this.

"Oh my god." The words tumbled out of her, barely a whisper against her palms, her chest rising and falling too quickly to keep up.

Chris didn’t hesitate. His arms wrapped around her tightly, anchoring her, holding her so close she could feel his heartbeat against hers.

"I am so fucking proud of you." His voice was right against her ear, steady, sure. "You are everything, baby."

That was it. That was what made the tears slip free.

But Chris didn’t let her hide.

With infinite tenderness, he pulled her hands away from her face, his thumbs sweeping over her damp cheeks. Then, before she could even catch her breath, he cupped her jaw and kissed her, firm, lingering, so full of love that everything else around them faded into nothing.

The crowd reacted instantly - cheers, whistles, camera flashes exploding in rapid succession - but Y/N only felt him.

When he pulled back, his hand found the small of her back, keeping her close, his face glowing with pride.

"Go get your second Grammy, superstar."

She exhaled shakily, nodding as she turned toward the stage for the second time in that night.

With each step, she forced herself to breathe.

In.

Out.

The massive gold-lettered GRAMMY AWARDS logo towered behind Trevor as he extended the award toward her, his smile warm and genuine.

"Y/N, congratulations." He said, offering a short but meaningful handshake.

Y/N took the Grammy statue with slightly trembling hands, whispering.

"Thank you so much." Before stepping toward the microphone.

As she turned, facing the sea of the world’s most influential artists, the weight of the moment finally settled on her. She was with her second award in her hands.

She barely had time to process it before her gaze instinctively found Chris.

He was standing at their table, hands tucked into his pants pockets, eyes locked onto hers. And when she hesitated, nerves bubbling up again, he gave her the smallest nod.

A simple movement.

But one that made her chest ache in the best way.

Y/N exhaled, adjusting her grip on the award.

"I- uh, I think I blacked out for a second there."

The room laughed, the tension easing instantly.

Y/N smiled, shaking her head.

"I genuinely don’t even know where to start. Again. This... this is insane."

She swallowed, her grip tightening on the Grammy as she steadied herself. The applause had started to fade, giving her space to speak, but her mind was still spinning.

"Lavender Haze is about love." She let the words settle, looking down for a brief moment before lifting her gaze straight to him. "The kind of love that blocks out the noise. The kind that just is, no matter what’s said, no matter what’s assumed. The kind that’s real."

Chris’s expression didn’t change, but she saw it, the slight shift in his jaw, the way his fingers curled against his palm, like he was physically stopping himself from reacting too much. From crumbling, maybe.

"This song wouldn’t exist without that love." Y/N wet her lips, heart hammering. "Without him."

A murmur rippled through the audience. People turned toward Chris, whose head finally dropped for half a second, his tongue running over his bottom lip before he glanced back up at her.

Y/N barely heard the movement. Barely noticed the cameras zooming in on them, barely cared about the entire world watching, because this wasn’t for them.

"This music is for you, Chris." Her voice was softer now, but no less sure. "And about you. And because of you."

Chris inhaled sharply, his chest rising with the movement. He was blinking faster now, his lips parting slightly, his entire body still, like if he moved, even a little, he’d break.

"You have been my safe place in ways I never even thought possible." Y/N continued, her voice thick with emotion. "You have shown me love in a way that makes the rest of the world fade out. And I wrote this because I needed people to hear what that feels like."

A pause.

Chris pressed his knuckles against his mouth, his gaze locked onto her like she had gravity itself wrapped around her fingers.

"So, I don’t need to thank anyone else for this." Y/N said simply, shaking her head. "This is you. This was always you."

The room was silent.

The world was silent.

Then, like a tidal wave, the applause crashed back over the moment, a roar of cheers and shouts as the weight of her words settled over the audience.

Chris didn’t move.

Didn’t clap.

Didn’t even breathe for a second.

He just looked at her with the most bright blue eyes.

She nodded, finally stepping back from the mic, Trevor clapping beside her before escorting her off stage.

And the second she made it back to her table, Chris was there.

Before she could even react, he pulled her against him, lips finding hers in a way that had the cameras flashing wildly, had people cooing, but none of it mattered.

Because for Y/N, all that existed was him.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Five nominations.

Five won awards.

She did it.

She had won five Grammys tonight.

She still couldn’t fully process it.

The air outside the main salon was crisp with the late-night chill, but Y/N barely felt it. The sheer exhaustion in her limbs, the dull ache in her feet from hours in high heels, and the weight - both literal and emotional - of the five golden Grammys in her hands left her in a haze.

Chris walked beside her, just as tired, but his expression was still warm with lingering pride. His free hand held two of her awards, his fingers occasionally brushing against hers as they made their way toward the grey wall - the makeshift backdrop set up just for the winners to take their photos.

Y/N’s sharp eyes were quick to spot something - or rather, someone - familiar.

Cole Walliser. The photographer behind every iconic Glambot moment and best photographs at major award shows.

The moment Cole noticed her, his face lit up in recognition, and he immediately called out.

"Y/N! Oh my god, look at these babies!" He gestured toward her stack of trophies, shaking his head in disbelief. "Get over here. You already know the drill!"

Y/N laughed, already making her way toward him, Chris trailing behind her with a wide smile.

"Oh, I think I remember it."

Cole smirked, playing along.

"Yeah? You sure about that? Feels like I’ve only filmed you a dozen times or so."

"Something like that." She teased before gesturing toward Chris with her head. "Brought a friend this time."

Chris scoffed, giving her the most offended look.

"Friend my ass."

Y/N burst into laughter, nudging him playfully, while Cole chuckled at their dynamic.

"Alright, what’s the game plan? We need to show these off."

Y/N barely had time to respond before Chris was already moving, helping her adjust the awards so she could hold them all without them toppling over.

"Wait, wait, here, give me that one." His voice was soft, concentrated, as he carefully restacked them, his touch both gentle and efficient. "Alright, you good? You got ‘em?"

She let out a breathy laugh, adjusting her grip.

"Yeah, I think so."

Cole grinned, stepping back to gesture toward the marked spot in front of the camera.

"Perfect, then. Right this way, Ms. Sturniolo."

Y/N choked on a laugh, and Chris practically beamed.

"Ms. Sturniolo, huh?" Chris turned to her, eyes shining with excitement, his grip on her lower back tightening slightly as he guided her onto the designated Glambot mark. "I like the sound of it."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her laughter betrayed how much she loved seeing him so giddy.

"Don’t let it get to your head, Mr. Sturniolo."

Chris grinned.

"Oh, it’s already there."

As Cole called out instructions, Chris stepped back, giving her space, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he lingered off to the side, watching her with the biggest, most heart-wrenchingly proud smile on his face.

Y/N could feel his gaze on her as she smiled to Cole’s moving camera. She tilted her head, posing slightly, but every time she caught Chris’s eyes in the background, her lips twitched into a barely-contained grin.

She couldn’t help it.

This moment was surreal.

She was standing there, arms full of Grammys, while her person stood just a few feet away, looking at her like she had hung the damn stars in the sky.

After a few more clicks, she shifted the weight of the awards in her arms before looking toward Waliser.

"Can we do one with Chris?" She asked, glancing between the camera and Chris himself.

Cole barely hesitated, quickly nodding.

"Oh, absolutely! Christopher, hop in!"

Chris blinked.

"Oh, I mean- I wasn’t-"

"Oh, shut up and get over here." Y/N teased, a playful glint in her tired eyes.

Chris huffed a soft chuckle before stepping forward, standing beside her as she started redistributing the awards.

"Here." She murmured, placing two specific trophies into his hands.

Song of the Year and Album of the Year.

Chris furrowed his brows slightly, glancing down at the awards before looking back at her.

"Doll-"

"These two." She said softly, eyes locking onto his. "I only got because of you."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his fingers tightening around the trophies instinctively.

"Y/N-"

"Just hold them with me." She whispered, nudging him gently.

Chris exhaled through his nose, his lips pressing into a thin line before he gave in, nodding as they both turned to face the camera.

Cole then gave play on his camera, but Y/N barely paid attention to it. She could feel Chris's eyes at her again, his expression unreadable, almost like he was too full of emotion to put it into words.

When the last one was taken, Chris nudged her shoulder lightly.

"C’mon, superstar. Let’s get out of here."

She didn’t hesitate.

After exchanging warm goodbyes with Cole, Y/N and Chris started making their way toward the private exit where their Range Rover was waiting.

Y/N’s entire body felt like it was dragging now, the adrenaline wearing off fast. She wanted nothing more than to be curled up at home, in bed, preferably with Chris’s arms around her.

But before they could reach the doors-

"Y/N!"

A reporter suddenly appeared in front of them, stepping way too close for comfort. Y/N barely had time to react before the microphone was practically in her face.

"So, are you guys heading to the after-party?" The woman asked, her tone almost demanding, her smile overly eager. "What are the plans for the rest of the night?"

Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned by how aggressive the approach was.

Chris, on the other hand... His entire expression darkened. His jaw clenched, and his brows furrowed deeply, his grip tightening around the awards as he took a subtle step closer to Y/N, his entire posture radiating protectiveness.

If looks could kill, the woman would’ve been vaporized on the spot.

But before Chris could say anything, Y/N, despite being exhausted, handled it perfectly.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t react.

Instead, she simply smiled, a polite, but pointed smile.

"I’m heading home, actually." She said smoothly, adjusting the awards in her arms. "To my family." The reporter barely had time to respond before Y/N added. "Thank you so much. Have a great night."

And just like that, she turned, walking away.

Chris blinked. Then, a slow, smug smirk crept onto his lips as he followed her.

Y/N didn’t give the woman another second of her time. She just kept walking, invisibly pulling Chris with her, her arm brushing against his with every step, greeting and thanking each staff member in the way with warm smiles.

Chris let out a low chuckle as they reached the car, expertly balancing both awards in one hand while using the other to pull open the door for her.

"Damn. That was smooth." His voice was warm, laced with amusement.

Y/N smirked at him over her shoulder, eyes twinkling despite the exhaustion sinking in.

"I’m too tired to deal with more people tonight."

Chris snorted, watching as she slid into the leather seat with a sigh of relief.

"Fair enough."

When he finally climbed into the seat beside hers, he shut the door with a groan, leaning his head back for a second before exhaling slowly.

And just like that, the moment they were sealed inside the warm car, blocking the sounds of loud voices and clicks, the exhaustion slammed into them both.

Y/N melted into the headrest, her eyes falling shut as she let out a deep, heavy breath.

"I feel like I ran a marathon."

Chris chuckled under his breath, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension.

"You did. An emotional one."

She hummed in agreement, her breathing slowing as the exhaustion took hold. Chris reached over instinctively, finding her hand in the dim light of the car, fingers slotting between hers with ease.

His thumb brushed over her knuckles, slow and deliberate, grounding her in the quiet.

"M’so proud of you, baby." His voice was soft, almost a whisper, like he didn’t want to disturb the peacefulness settling over them.

Y/N turned her head toward him, eyelids heavy, but her lips curled into the smallest, sleepiest smile.

"Love you."

Chris lifted their joined hands without hesitation, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles, lingering there for just a second longer than necessary.

"Love you more."

She let her eyes flicker down, gaze landing on the golden awards sprawled across her lap and the seat beside her. She reached out, fingertips tracing the engravings, still not entirely believing they were hers.

She let out a thoughtful hum. Five more Grammys.

"We’re gonna have to find space for these at home." She murmured, brows knitting together as she looked over at Chris. "I have no idea where we’re putting them."

Chris chuckled, shaking his head.

"Already taken care of."

She raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nick ordered a whole-ass display cabinet for that empty wall across from the kitchen." He admitted, shooting her a knowing look. "Figured we’d need it."

Y/N blinked, her lips parting slightly.

"He-"

"Yeah." Chris smirked. "So, we’ll put these there with the others from the past years..." He paused, his eyes twinkling playfully. "Until there’s no room left, popstar."

Y/N huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head before leaning over to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

"At this rate." She teased, nuzzling his soft skin. "We’ll need a whole new house."

It was no surprise when, in the next TikTok, the boys recorded in their kitchen, the cabinet full of awards served as the background.

[mameillieureennemie]

i had been thinking about this all day at work.

fwb!vi x f!reader - 1

summary: looks say far more than words can.

when you and vi first started this arrangement, the way she looked at you was different.

it was a look of hunger; a look that a mountain lion would possess as it laid its eyes on an innocent lamb. to say she wanted to eat you was too kind—she wanted to devour you, tear into your flesh with sharp, and wet her gullet with your blood.

it was possession that drove her to throw you on the bed before mounting you. the desperate urge to keep as she swallowed you whole, bones and all, until there was nothing left of you.

that was months ago, when the arrangement was still fresh. when you firmly stated that this was nothing but downright filthy sex, and vi agreed.

but everything has changed.

vi doesn't look at you the same.

except she does, but it's worse somehow.

while she still pins you down with that gaze of raw possession, it's...softened.

no longer is it harsh and jagged, slicing through your flesh with serrated edges. now, it cradles you, like gentle hands holding the delicate body of a baby bird. cautious, easy...

fond.

it terrifies you.

vi's nestled in the cradle of your thighs, hiding her face in the plush of your stomach. her arms are locked around your waist, tight and assured, and she's humming a tune. it's muffled, but it's familiar; a song that she lets loose when she's happy.

when she's happy with you.

there's a heavy rock in your stomach, pulling you down towards the ground. it may drag you through the earth, suffocating you in the terrifying heat of the earth's mantle. maybe the heat will kill you first, but you'll be killed nonetheless.

this is what your fear feels like. this is what you were afraid of.

vi's shifting on your lap momentarily draws you away from your inevitable breakdown. she's now lying on her back, baring her face back to the world—back to you.

the smile on her face is tender; it's what some might even call loving. the rock in your stomach gains five pounds, nausea pooling at the back of your throat.

no.

"hey, pretty girl," vi murmurs, low and slow, as if those words are her secrets. "what's going on in that head of yours?"

the words sit at the tip of your tongue, scrambling for freedom. they seep into your taste buds, leaving behind the most sour of tastes.

we need to stop this, is what yells to be said. we said no feelings. this was supposed to be about sex and nothing else. so why does it feel like you're in love with me?

why does it feel like i'm in love with you, too?

"nothing," you say instead, mimicking the low and slow, like you're also telling secrets. "just wondering about what i should do tonight."

you stress the i a little too harshly, but vi doesn't notice. or maybe she does and refuses to care. maybe she's acting on her own will, doing what feels right by her standards.

which is unfair; she isn't allowed to do this to you.

"well, if you don't anything in mind," vi says easily. "we could go catch a movie or something? maybe go and grab something to eat from jericho's?" the way she says we is too simple, as if it's always been we and not you and her.

you stare down at her for a moment, really take her in. the slope of her nose, the scar on her upper lip. the soft pinks of her cheeks, and her eyes. wide and power blue and far too expressive of their own good because she's looking at you with that look again.

that look that means way too much.

when you open your mouth, all that falls out is a lie.

"actually, i have to wake up early in the morning." you lie through your teeth because you need to get away from this—from her.

the look in vi's eyes changes, slips into something foreign; something unknown. you've never seen this look before, but you can't find it in yourself to worry about it.

when vi leaves, she presses a lingering kiss upon your lips. her hands grasp at you a bit too tightly, as if feeling you for the last time. then she's gone without a word, and a part of you wonders what that could have meant.

but as the weeks go by and vi goes unheard of, you suddenly realise on a deathly cold morning.

vi was saying goodbye.

[romerona]

The Cook and The Teacher!

Let's pretend The Bear and Abbot Elementary are in the same city.

Another cute interaction between Carmen (Carmy) Berzatto x Abbot Teacher Femreader! Sunshinereader!

Trigger warning: Mentions of the asshole Chef David Fields, some angst and anxiety attacks.

It was late—too late.

Carmy barely registered the walk home, his body moving on autopilot, his mind still tangled in the chaos of the night. The cold air bit at his exposed skin, sharp and unforgiving, but he hardly noticed. The city around him murmured in the background—streetlights flickering, cars humming in the distance, the occasional shout from someone leaving a bar. But it all felt muted, distant, like he was hearing it through water. What lingered instead was the crushing weight of the night pressing against his ribs, a dull and relentless pressure that refused to let up.

Dinner service at The Bear had been a disaster. One of those nights where everything that could go wrong, did. The shipment. Late. So late that it threw off the whole prep schedule. Orders were late. Tickets stacked up like a goddamn mountain, looming over him, mocking him. Then, of course, one of the fryers broke mid-rush. The kitchen had been thick with tension, and every sharp movement edged with frustration. Richie and Sydney had gone at it—again—voices rising over the clatter of pans, cutting through the already fraying nerves of the staff.

And Carmy? He could feel himself unravelling. Patience thinning. Jaw tightening. His fingers curling into fists so hard his nails dug into his palms, but there was no outlet, no way to fix it. And then there was the heat. The noise. The pressure of it all, building and building, squeezing in on him until it felt like the walls were closing in, the suffocating knowledge that he should have done more, been better, made it work. No matter how hard he worked, no matter how many hours he gave to The Bear, it was still just a ticking time bomb of mistakes waiting to happen.

By the time he peeled off his clothes, shoving them into a crumpled pile somewhere near the hamper, his body felt disconnected from his brain. Like his limbs weren’t quite his own—like he was floating just outside of himself, watching everything happen from a few steps away.

His muscles ached, the deep kind of exhaustion that settled in his bones, making every movement feel heavier than it should. His head throbbed in dull, rhythmic pulses, the pressure lingering behind his eyes, threatening to split his skull in two. And his skin—Christ, his skin burned. Still clinging to the heat of the kitchen, to the suffocating weight of the night, to the stench of grease and smoke that no amount of showers ever seemed to fully wash away. It was embedded in him, stitched into his fibers.

And yet, still, he couldn't stop.

His feet carried him toward the kitchen before he even registered the movement, muscle memory taking over where his brain had given up. His fingers found the knob on the stove, twisting it with a practised flick until the flame flared to life, a small but immediate comfort.

A pan. Some oil.

Something simple. Something controllable.

He should be asleep. He knew that. His body screamed for it, his eyes burned from the strain of the day, his hands still bore the small nicks and cuts from rushed knife work. But sleep meant stopping. Stopping meant sitting in silence, letting the weight of the night press down on him again.

And if he let that happen—if he let himself sit in the quiet too long—he knew what would come creeping in.

The doubts. The failures. The voice of the fucking asshole, even now, echoing in his head. You’re too slow. You’re too careless. You’re not enough. You should fucking die.

He cracked the egg, let it hit the pan, and barely noticed the sizzle. His eyes weren’t on the stovetop. They were somewhere else. Somewhere he couldn’t claw his way out of.

His thoughts swirled, a chaotic loop that refused to quiet down. Back to the heat, the noise, the impossible weight pressing against his chest like a tightening vice. He rubbed a hand over his face, fingers pressing hard against his eyes like he could physically wipe the memories away. Exhaled sharply. Tried to shake it off.

Too slow. Too much. Not enough.

His breath came a little too fast, his jaw clenching so tight it ached. Carmy barely noticed the first tendril of smoke curling through the air.

For a second, it didn’t compute.

His eyes followed the lazy drift of grey, sluggish, delayed, like his brain was still playing catch-up. Then— Shit.

The oil. The heat. The flames licking up the edge of the pan. The Déjà vu.

His body moved before his brain fully caught up. Fast. Sharp. Instinct taking over where exhaustion failed him. His hand shot out, killing the burner, while his other grabbed the lid, slamming it down over the flames before they had a chance to spread.

His pulse hammered in his ears. It was small—controlled—just a second of distraction. For a second, he just stood there, staring at the smothered pan, the burnt remnants inside. The acrid smell clung to him, to the walls, to everything. Embedded, like everything else.

Too much.

His feet moved before his brain could process it. He shoved open the door, barely feeling the cool brass of the handle beneath his fingers, stepping outside onto the hallway. The air hit him sharp, cold against his overheated skin. He inhaled deep, sucking in the crispness, trying to force his heartbeat to slow the fuck down.

Ground yourself. Breathe. Breathe.

But it wasn’t working.

Because the moment he lifted his head, he saw you. You were standing in the hallway, just a few feet away. Still. Watching him.

And you knew.

It was written all over your face. The way your brows pulled together, the way your lips parted like you were about to say something but hadn’t yet figured out how.

“Carmy, you okay?” Your voice was too soft—too careful—but somehow, it still cut through him like a blade.

His breath hitched, his pulse still too fast, too erratic, his body caught between the past five minutes and right now. He should say something. Smooth this over. Make it disappear before it became a thing.

“Was nothin’,” he muttered, shaking his head quickly. His voice came out hoarse, frayed at the edges. “Just—just got distracted.”

But you didn’t look convinced.

Your gaze dropped to his hands. The ones still trembling, even as he tried to disguise it, rubbing them against the fabric of his hoodie like that would erase the evidence. You stepped closer, slow, cautious, and it made his skin prickle.

“It doesn’t look fine. And that’s not what I asked,” you murmured, your tone even. Not accusing. Not pushing. Just… knowing.

And fuck, why?

Why did you have to look at him like that? Why did it feel like you were peeling him open with just a look?

Like you could see whatever was wrong, the way it clung to him, the way it seeped into his bones, wrapped around his ribs like a vice.

Why the fuck did you care?

His jaw tightened as he exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. His skin felt too tight, his thoughts too loud. His heart was still racing, his breath coming in short, shallow pulls, and the way you were looking at him—it made it worse. Annoyance flickered up, hot and sharp.

“Well, it is, alright,” he bit out, voice low, clipped.

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t step back.

Your eyes held him there. Concerned, not pitying. And for some reason, that made it worse. “What’s going on?”

Your voice was gentle, but he still felt like it pressed against something raw in him. He swallowed again, the motion tight, too quick. His shoulders tensed. Like a cornered animal.

“Fucking nothin', alright?” His voice snapped—not loud, but sharp. A warning. “Just got fucking distracted.”

There was a bite to it. A finality. A 'don’t push it'. But you didn’t look away. He could feel his pulse in his throat, the weight of the night crashing down again.

“Left something on the stove too long.” His fingers twitched, restless. “It’s fucking fine, just—” He gestured vaguely toward your apartment, his frustration turning in on itself. “Just go back to your house.”

He didn’t mean for it to sound harsh. But it did.

Your expression barely flickered, but he saw the way your brows knitted together for a fraction of a second, the way you took in his words, measured them, and decided not to take the bait.

Carmy knew what he was doing. Knew the sharpness in his voice, the edge he was putting there—not to hurt you, not really. Just to push you away, to create space where there was none, to stop you from seeing too much. From seeing him like this.

But you just stood there, calm, unwavering, like you had all the time in the world for him to burn himself out. You took another step closer, slow and deliberate, your gaze never leaving his face.

“Okay,” you said simply, shrugging. “Fine.”

That threw him off. He expected pushback, expected you to demand answers or call him out. Instead, you just… accepted his words. His anger fizzled out slightly, like a match burning out too fast.

You shifted your weight, crossing your arms. “But if it’s fine, then you won’t mind standing here for a second and breathing with me.”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

You gave him that look, the one that was patient but somehow immovable. “I’m not asking you to explain. I’m not even asking you to talk. Just... breathe with me.”

Then, carefully, you reached out—not touching, not forcing, just holding a hand palm-up between you. Not a demand. A choice.

“Just once. If it doesn’t help, I’ll go inside, and you can keep pretending you’re fine,” you said, your tone gentle but sure.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. He hated this. Hated being seen like this. Hated the way you were giving him an out but also making it real fucking hard to take it.

His gaze flickered to your hand. Just sitting there, open, steady, waiting.

Like an idiot, he took it.

It wasn’t much at first. His grip was tight, rigid. Like he was bracing for impact. But you didn’t squeeze or try to pull him closer. You just held it. Let him be shaky. Let his fingers flex, then tighten, then relax—like an anchor, like something solid in the mess of his own mind.

Carmy clenched his jaw. He should tell you to go, to drop it, to just—leave him alone. But then you inhaled, slow and deep, through your nose. And for some fucking reason, he did it too.

Not perfectly. Not steady. But he tried.

“Good,” you murmured, nodding. “Now out.”

He exhaled, shakier than he wanted it to be, his fingers twitching again. You stayed quiet for a moment, watching him, letting the air settle between you.

You shifted slightly, tilting your head. “Again.”

He hesitated but did as you said. In through his nose. Out through his mouth. One breath at a time.

Until the world wasn’t pressing against his ribs like a vice. Until the knots in his stomach weren’t so fucking tight. Until his hand—still in yours—wasn’t trembling anymore.

Finally, finally, his shoulders dropped a fraction, and you let out a small exhale, like there you are.

“See? Now it’s fine,” you said, voice lighter, teasing but not pushing. “Knew I could get you to listen.”

Carmy let out a quiet, shaky huff—half a laugh, half an exhale. “Didn’t say it helped.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “But you’re not telling me to leave anymore.”

“Guess not.”

You let go of his hand—easing the connection rather than dropping it. Still, he can't help but flex it, missing the warmth, the feeling.

Carmy exhaled again, slower this time. His jaw was still tight, but the sharp edge of his frustration had dulled, faded into something closer to exhaustion. He ran a hand over his face, rubbing at his temple. “I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” you interrupted softly.

That threw him off balance more than before. You weren’t asking for an explanation, weren’t searching for answers, weren’t waiting for him to fix himself before you’d stand there with him.

You just were. And for some reason, that made something in his chest pull tight.

Your smile softened, and you nudged his foot lightly with yours, the touch grounding, casual—like you weren’t standing there peeling back every layer of him without even trying. “You don’t have to say anything, Carmy. Just… let me be here, alright?”

Carmy’s chest rose and fell in a slow, measured breath. His fingers twitched, he wanted to reach you again but instead he let them fall, finally relaxing.

His gaze drifted over you then—really seeing you for the first time tonight.

The colourful oversized pajamas, a mismatched set that somehow made sense on you made you look impossibly comfortable. The messy bed head, strands sticking up in odd directions like you’d been in too much of a hurry to smooth them down. The thick glasses perched on your nose, slightly crooked, like you’d shoved them on without thinking.

And yet, none of it diminished you.

No, you were still—God, you were just so...

Soft in a way that didn’t feel fragile. Kind in a way that didn’t feel forced. For someone who should’ve looked a little ridiculous standing in the dim hallway at nearly midnight, dressed like a walking fever dream, you were still—

Still just you. Still perfect.

Not in the unattainable, polished way that made people feel like they had to measure up. No, you were real. Warm. The kind of presence that pulled people in without trying. Like someone who didn’t need him to be anything other than exactly what he was in this moment—messy, frayed, a little burnt at the edges.

His throat worked as he swallowed, the words forming but never making it past his lips. Instead, he just nodded once, short and barely there. But you caught it, you always did.

You smiled a quiet understanding passing between you and tilted your head toward your apartment. “Come inside. Just for a bit.”

Carmy hesitated, shifting his weight like he was already halfway out the door. “Nah, you really should go back to sleep. You, uh—you got to teach tomorrow, right?”

You scoffed, shaking your head with an amused little huff. “Please, I wasn’t asleep. I was on my Kindle, making poor life choices about just one more chapter.”

That made him glance at you, brow twitching slightly upward. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, waving a hand. “I sleep late all the time. Bad habit. I’m a terrible role model for my students. Preaching good sleep schedules by day, sabotaging my own by night. Not my proudest contradiction, but hey, I make it work.”

He pressed his lips together, unsure. He’d already taken up too much of your time, already made too much of a mess of himself in front of you. But before he could find another excuse to disappear, you tilted your head toward your apartment, eyes glinting mischievously.

“Tell you what—I’ll sweeten the deal." you said, "Come inside, and I’ll make you pancakes or something.”

His brows furrowed, but there was amusement flickering in his tired eyes. “You’re bribing me with pancakes?”

“I’m persuading you with pancakes,” you corrected, crossing your arms. “Big difference. One’s morally questionable, the other is just good business.”

He exhaled a small laugh, shaking his head as he glanced past you toward your open door. The warmth of your apartment, the contrast of soft, golden light against the dim hallway, was enough to make him hesitate just a little longer.

You sighed dramatically, tipping your head back. “Fine. I see how it is. You don’t want pancakes. You don’t want warmth. You don’t want the chance to experience my culinary prowess, which, by the way, is heavily dependent on boxed mix and sheer confidence.”

Carmy exhaled another small laugh, “That supposed to convince me?”

“I don’t know,” you mused, tilting your head. “Is it working?”

He hesitated, then glanced at you, eyes flickering between your expression and the soft glow of your apartment.

He huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing a hand over his face before looking at you again. “You even got syrup?”

You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. “How dare you. Of course, I have syrup. And not just any syrup. The good syrup. The expensive kind that makes my pockets cry.”

He looked back at the open door, at the warmth, then at you—waiting, expectant, patient.

“…Alright,” he muttered finally, turning off his light and closing his door . “Just for a bit.”

Your grin widened as you stepped aside. “Good call. I was prepared to escalate to full puppy-dog eyes if needed.”

Carmy hesitated in your doorway, eyes flicking between the warm glow of your apartment and the quiet comfort of your presence. The offer was simple—pancakes, syrup, a brief reprieve from his own mind.

And for a second, just a second, it felt familiar.

Too familiar.

His chest tightened. He didn’t mean to think about Mikey, but the memory crept in any way—uninvited and unavoidable.

He wasn’t sure when he noticed it, that pull you had. The way you could turn a moment weightless without even trying. It was something about the way you carried yourself—unapologetically bright, effortlessly magnetic, like the room revolved around you but you never let it go to your head.

Mikey had been like that.

Carmy swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against the counter, watching you move around the kitchen, talking about some ridiculous pancake technique like it was revolutionary. Like this was normal. Like he wasn’t just outside five minutes ago trying to claw his way out of his own head.

Mikey used to drag him into things, into late-night runs for shitty gas station snacks, into arguments about what actually made a perfect sandwich, into moments that felt like they meant nothing at the time but everything in hindsight

And now here you were, doing the same thing.

Pulling him out of his own head. Out of the spiral. Out of the weight of it all.

You didn’t even realize it, did you?

Carmy never thought he’d meet someone else like that. Didn’t think he deserved to.

But here you were.

Different, but the same in all the ways that mattered. You lit up a room without trying, turned things that should’ve felt heavy into something bearable.

“Alright, Chef,” you teased, flicking a bit of flour off your fingers, breaking out of his thoughts. “You wanna help, or are you just gonna sit there looking pretty?”

Carmy scoffed, rolling his eyes, but there was no real bite behind it.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, but his hands were already reaching for the whisk.

Mikey would’ve loved you.

A/N: Helloooooo. How is everyone!?? Okay first I want to thank you all for the support, for those likes, comments and shares ❤️ I still can’t believe the love for this fic. Thank you so muchhh.

And second of all I hope you enjoyed this one, I am personally not sure about it. It feels like it needs that je ne sais quoi factor… hopefully I'll have a good one for Valentine’s Day 🫶🩷

Be safe out there 🫶 Tell me if you would like to get tagged.

Tags:

@hiitsmebbygrl16 @urthem00n @svzwriting29 @tyferbebe @akornsworld @khxna @ruthyalva96 @beingalive1 @darkestbeforethedawn16 @turtle-cant-communicate spideybv28 veryberryjelly @daisy-the-quake leilanixx softpia cosmix-stxrs the-disaster-in-waiting memoriesat30 emerald-jade1 sabrina-carpenter-stan-account ateliefloresdaprimavera

[imsofreakingtired]

sevika gets drunk and ends up forgetting about her own wife and ends up in the brothel, and reader end up knowing all, but dont have courage enough to confront her, but she noticed the changes on your behavior like, dont wanting kisses often, dont wanting to cudlle at nigh or worried when she tells you that she have to work and etc.

(I am obsseeeed how you write angst, mwah mwah)

- 🧸

ohh absolutely. i love that idea<3 also tysmm!

leave you with nothing

content warning(s): idiot lesbians (slight angst) (not too bad i swear)

"are you sick of me? would you like to be? i'm trying to tell you something something that i've already said"

~~~

i think she would get drunk only when work was really stressing her out. or if her sense of self-worth is just at an all-time low (i’m thinking of the time silco dead up ordered her to help with a dead body, which was shocking even to renni, who was literally the mother of the victim.) when she feels trapped, hopeless, powerless, like the enterprise isn’t getting zaun anywhere closer to its ultimate goal. she doesn’t want to confide in you about this, she wants to keep up a front of stoic confidence to you, because she’s afraid if she reveals herself to be vulnerable you will leave her. 

so she drinks her troubles away and tells herself she’ll clear everything up to you in the morning if you ask why she came home late, she tells herself she’ll just play a round of cards or two with her drinking mates, that you’ll never know the difference (never thinks she’s more sober than when she’s stinking drunk.) 

one drink leads to another and she’s vaguely aware of her desire for something else that night - a woman’s touch, a woman’s voice, someone to hold her and tell her she is doing alright. she’s too drunk to remember where she’s felt this before, who has held her like this, and all she is aware of is an all-consuming loneliness that threatens to devour her alive. she’s thrown back into the old days before she met you, when all that awaited her after a hard day’s work was an empty apartment strewn with emptier liquor bottles. she doesn’t want to go back to this home. 

so she makes her way to babette’s, incredibly calm and collected—she’s good at playing sober when she wants to, and babette is surprised to see her check in— isn’t she married? — but she asks no questions and Sevika sees a woman who kind of looks like you. the eyes. the shape of the face. the hips, the way she moves in the dusky light. she picks her immediately. 

she’s too drunk to care about how it might look, asking the woman if it’s alright if she just lay with her head in the woman’s lap. telling her to stroke her hair and let her sleep for a while. even on the walk here she was hot with desire, but now she just wants to rest and hear the pretty words you would whisper in her ear when you thought she was asleep. 

she comes home at around 4 in the morning and promptly passes out on the couch, not even bothering to change. smelling of someone else’s perfume. you find her there in the morning and she doesn’t remember a single thing except that the coins in her pocket are gone. 

you know the signs; you’re not stupid, but you don’t want to think the worst. until you overhear Chuck talking to some of the patrons at the last drop. 

“yeah, Sevika was here, swept the table and then left in the middle of the round talking about Babette’s.” “Babette’s?? doesn’t she have a wife?” 

you wander through the rooms in a daze for the rest of the day as you wait for Sevika to come home. you’re furious at first, then you’re cold with dread. was it you? had you done something wrong to make her want something else, someone else? 

you don’t want to confront her, you’ve convinced yourself by now that whatever it was, it must have been something you did wrong, and even though you can’t think of a single time Sevika seemed angry or even unhappy with you, you can’t bring yourself to start the conversation. 

she comes home tired and her eyes light up when she sees you. when she tries to kiss you, you turn your face away. her hand reaches for your waist, you dodge her touch. 

“baby, what’s with you?” she asks. “i smell funny or what?”

yeah, you smell of babette’s. you smell of liquor. you smell of lies. 

“nothing. i’m tired. you want dinner?” 

“i ate already,” she says. “i’m going to bed.” 

okay, so we’re playing ignorant, you think. two can play at that game. 

as the days go on you avoid her more and more. you still clean up after her in the apartment, cook her meals, wash and mend her clothes as usual. but you don’t stay up waiting for her to come home, and you don’t let her kiss you in bed. Sevika’s at a complete loss—she’s never seen you this way before. unlike you, she’d never wonder if maybe she were at fault. if she feels she hasn’t done wrong, she’d stick to that conviction to the bitter end. but it exasperates her, the way you elude her touches, answer her with monosyllables, stare at her with a strange apprehension in your eyes when you think she isn’t looking. 

“i’m working late tonight,” she tells you one day. “don’t wait up.” 

you feel your heart drop. she’s already a regular for someone at babette’s, you know it. 

“what time do you think you’ll be back?” you ask, a little too quickly. 

she looks at you oddly. you’ve never asked her this before. “i’ll be back when i’m back.” her brows furrow in concern. “why, is something wrong?” 

“no,” you say. 

after she leaves you pace the apartment for about an hour before making up your mind and running out into the street. hood over your face so you won’t be recognized, you run straight to Babette’s and burst through the doors, ignoring the strange looks you receive. no one deters you—you were also a frequent patron before you met Sevika, but you see the workers look at you and whisper to one another. it only confirms your suspicions. you reach Babette’s office and she looks up at you in surprise. 

“can i help you, hon?” 

“Sevika,” you say breathlessly. “how many times has she checked in here?” 

her brows lift. she checks her records. “i don’t do this for anyone, you know - confidential information. but since you’re her wife…”

“how many times, please?” 

she looks up at you. “just once. a month ago. she seemed inebriated. stayed only for two hours.” 

just once? and drunk? Sevika, drunk? you couldn’t imagine it if you tried.

you walk back out of the brothel, barely thinking of where you’re going, barely thinking at all, when you hear a familiar voice call out your name. 

Sevika’s walking swiftly down the street towards you, her eyes dark. 

“what are you doing here?” she asks, grabbing your wrist. 

“what am I doing here?” you shoot back. “i’m here finding out what you were doing here!” 

she looks up at the sign of Babette’s place, as if she can’t understand what you mean. “i haven’t stepped foot in this place,” she growls. 

“Babette’s records say otherwise.” your voice is cold. 

then it all comes back to her at once. Sevika’s lips part slightly as she recalls that night, the desperation, the way she had lain in another woman’s lap. 

“baby,” she says. “listen.” 

“i’m done listening,” you snap, and turn on your heel. you walk away from her, leaving her behind on the street outside Babette’s.  

~~~

note: idk why this idea struck me as so funny i think i'm sleep deprived lol. obviously she will explain herself as best as she can and you'll forgive her. she sleeps on the couch tonight though.

~~~

taglist~ @notlores @demothers-empty-blog @theyluvbix @archangeldyke-all @prettyinpink69 @beatdariceee @sevikaaaalover @intrnetrbl @00valentina-writes00 @zelluna @mamas-evil-hag @sevikassluttywaist @justhereforsubsevika

[vxlentinescookies]

Ajax listen,,,,listen to me Ajax-

Self Aware AU, where the cookies come to the player's/reader's world. Pick whichever characters you wanna include, I just need to see this 🙏

→ ❛Part of your world❜

→ Characters ; Longan Dragon Cookie, Burning Spice Cookie, Shadow Milk Cookie, Timekeeper Cookie & Millennial Tree Cookie → Quote ; ❛❛If someone came to you and told you “One day you’ll have those who you love the most in the palm of your hand”, well… you never thought that’d become true, nor that it’d be a metaphor…❜❜ → Genre ; Headcanons/Drabble → A/N ; This took me a whole ass night to make and 2500+ words to finish, I hope you like it /lh

Longan Dragon Cookie

“How quaint… to believe someone like you lives in such a… small place”

Having Longan Dragon in your home was… curious to say the least. Not something you expected, yet here you were, with a dragon looking at you as they squatted in your bedroom.

Longan would be hypercritical of the place you lived, noting things like “This looks cheap” or “Its far too small”

Despite that, Longan would be quite intrigued in your life, wanting to see how you worked or what you did, they’d follow you around when not sitting in your living room and meditating.

Nevertheless, they’re there for a reason, they’re with you for a reason, and they’ll make that reason known very, very soon.

It’d take Longan a few months, but eventually, they would come to sit by your side at the table, not sitting down on a chair but instead, sitting down by your side quite literally. They’d stare at you for long moments before finally leaning their head on your shoulder, the weight catching you off guard as you looked at them. 

“... I’ll make sure you live like you deserve one of these days” They’d say, and in that moment, you understood why there had been so many disappearances of delinquents and robbers nearby…

If you’re wondering what they’d do in your world, then…

One of the few favorite activities of Longan was to read, so much so, that you had to request books from the library more often than not, but with the way Longan was reading them… It had just been a few months, and yet this dragon had consumed almost all of your local library’s books.  So, when they finished reading most of your books, they’d chose to write them. And they’d write about what they saw, about everything they had seen around them, everything they had seen in this new world, and in some sense, it was intriguing to see how a dragon explored the new world they were in, the little things that werent intriguing to you were greatly important to them, in a way that got you even more intrigued by how they saw you.

“... You want to know how I see you?” They’d ask.

You knew fully well that you shouldnt expect much, after all, this was Longan Dragon we were talking about, they werent a kind dragon, they saw cookies as lesser beings, and humans now by extensions, but as you asked them that question, they’d only smile and pat your head softly.

“You’re the reason Im here… Of course I would think highly of you”

A genuine smile, it made your heart flutter as they spoke, a hand going to cup your chin in it.

“You’re interesting, perhaps, one of the most interesting things I’ve seen in this world.”

Besides writing, they’d follow you around and take note of everything you’d do… And by night, they’d curl by your side, taking most of the bed as they allow you to take rest in their chest, as they allow you to take rest in their breaths while their hands thread on your hair.

Burning Spice Cookie

“How intriguing…! Never would I have expected your home to be so… so… erm…”

Another one who seems to heavily judge your house, but also, another one who appears in your home kneeling because it is so small compared to him.

Either way, he gets eased into the ambient quite easily, his search for entertainment leading him to see through everything and all the world has to offer.

Until he… gets bored, again, because your world isnt as different from his (and in some sense, it is… actually… more boring than his old world…)

So, he moves to the next thing closest to him for entertainment!

“Little one, come here” 

He’d call forward to you once, looking at you with dark yet fiery eyes and an everlasting smile, though you knew this once it hid something, after all, despite him coming to your world for x or y reason, it involved you, it always involved you…

“Entertain me” Would be his words once you approached him, his smile becoming only more cryptic as you lifted an eyebrow at his voice. Entertain, him? In what sense or way would you be able to entertain someone akin to a god? 

Seeming to sense your doubt, Burning Spice would only come and hold you from your shirt, lifting you up before staring at you and then…

“Hahahah, you should’ve looked at your face, you really are an interesting one!”

If you’re wondering what he’d do in your world, then…

Besides seeking something for entertainment, Burning spice is in some sense able to somewhat pass through the crowd, and by that I mean he can somewhat pass as just a very tall human. Nonetheless, between choosing to hit the gym and sending you pictures, he’ll also follow you around, finding even the most monotonous tasks fairly entertaining if it has you in it. Its a weird combo, being outside with a dude in a hoodie and sweat pants following you around while doing groceries, or being in the metro and getting a fairly nice picture of him flexing for you. Burning spice is a menace…

“Aye, welcome home! I took care of some pesky people while you were gone… It was fun hearing their screams…”

…in far more ways than one.

Either way, you two also share a bed, its not like you have a choice with how clingy he can become when sleeping, pulling you in his arms in a heated hug (in the sense that he literally irradiates heat) while snoring loudly, you’ve gotten complaints from neighbors (if you live in an apartment), but somehow… they’ve… they’ve quieted down recently… However, when you ask Burning Spice, he just laughs it off.

Shadow Milk Cookie

“Woowee, what do we have here, sweetheart?”

Not as judgemental of your home, no, for once someone isnt as focused on where you live but…

He is focused on you, looking at you up and down, before hitting his head on the roof of your room, ouch!

He spends most of the days following you around though, using his magic to stay hidden from most people, so much that people may find you crazy for seeing you talk to… nothing!

Either way, much like the others, he’s there for a reason…

“Why Im here?”

You asked Shadow Milk once, after a good few months, what the jester had come to do in your own home. In fact, it perplexed you so much that when you asked him, the feeling seemed to be shared. It was… intriguing to say the least, but he’d only smile before clasping his hands together and saying in a song-esque tune.

“Becuase you’re sooooooooooo interesting, darlin! Just look at you, how could I NOT come here with you?”

Truth to be told, he saw you as who you really were, in some sense he saw you as someone who didnt fall for lies easily, he saw you as someone who saw beyond that and you were… interesting. You were a shot in the dark, and he just had, to have you near.

“You’re so silly, darlin, sososososo silly” He’d add in, patting your head softly as you only smiled and blushed slightly, even while knowing his smile and gaze hid a million of thoughts, and a million of even more ideas.

If you’re wondering what he’d do in your world, then…

When not reading around in your home, or following you to the library to read some books, he’d be looking over your shoulder, reading every single note, watching every single thing you do, it makes him curious, how someone so quaint has him wrapped around your finger. And yet, he cant help but smile at the idea of being just like that, wrapped around your finger in a sweet loving embrace.

He’d be the most romantic of the bunch, the one that makes it the most prominent that he’s there with you because he likes you, he dosent even hide it fully despite his jester-esque persona, he just cant hide it! So, when you ask him about what he was doing one day in the balcony of your apartment, he’d only turn and smile softly.

“Why, I'm recreating one of your world’s theatre plays!” He’d say, and you make a mental note to go to the theatre more often… “And you’ve come just in time, silly (y/n)! I need someone to play dearest Juliet!”

You add that it is a tragic love story, and he only brushes it off, adding in that “actors are actors, sweetheart, now come in and act!” so you do, and you have a fun time doing a monologue to a bunch of people who stay and watch, before claps fill the air.

And when time comes to bed, he’ll be the first to curl up in your bed, curl like a cat who welcomes you into his arms so sweetly, you feel the scent of milk, lactonic as it is, and for once you feel safe.

Timekeeper Cookie

“Well, look what we have here!”

To find Timekeeper in your home means to have done something either right or wrong. In your case, its right.

They’re very much curious about everything from the things you do on a daily basis to your home and how electronics work.

Still, and much like some others in this list, they become quickly bored about it, choosing to focus on you as main form of entertainment

Still, you can expect certain shenanigans to ensue.

It was late at night when it happened, just as you were playing when a portal opened and dragged you inside of it. You were scared shitless that much is true but, when you saw the person who dragged you in, you simply could sigh in slight annoyance.

“What? Cant I drag my favorite person in for some fun?” They’d say with that ever present smile, Timekeeper chuckling as she smiled widely at you, before noticing… “Oh, right, it is night where you’re from, guess I took you out at the wrong time!”

You huffed and yawned, before sitting up and looking at your phone… Right, it didnt exactly work when in time rifts, but then again that raised the question, why did they bring you here to begin with? As if being presented with the question loud and clear, they’d clear her throat and speak yet again.

“I simply wanted to see you, nothing wrong with that now?” They’d say quite mischievously, picking you up and bringing you into her lap “Go on, lets- Hm?”

You’d fall asleep into her arms as soon as she picked you up, your calm quiet face being shown to her as you were held in her arms. Well, guess fun had to wait.

If you’re wondering what they’d do in your world, then…

Much like the others, they also enjoy reading, however, they focus on reading about engineering and mechanics, more so about the mechanics of your world to see if they’re any different from the ones of her world. To say there isnt much difference is but an understatement, there was a hefty amount of difference counting the technology from the TBD was far more advanced, but, even then, you’d be able to get the timekeeper intrigued by the nature of your world.

“Tell me more about your world, c’mon!” They’d ask one day, floating from a time rift as you cooked dinner. 

Unlike the others Timekeeper wasnt keen on staying in one place, still finding comfort in being inside time rifts most of the time, though they still visited you more often than not, more often than other places. Seeing them you’d ask her what she wanted to know, to which she’d hum before saying.

“Anything, I dont really find it entertaining seeing it myself—Explain your world to me yourself, doll!”

So when night comes after a long day chatting, it is you who clings to her softly, as she watches you sleep cozily by her side. She smiles and pats your head, because as much as she’d prefer to fade into a time rift, she knows she cant let you go so easily, no. Not when you finally showed her happiness.

“Interesting, this place is… quite interesting…”

Seeing someone as tall as Millennial Tree in your home is but a piece of the whole puzzle. You are dumbfounded but in some sense, seeing them kneel to greet you is almost laughable.

He’s big, very tall and a gentle giant overall, and it shows when he holds your hand and tells you that your world is interesting to him.

He’s just as curious as everyone else, looking at everything, looking at everyone, he’s curious about you, curious about your world, yet he knows it’d be dangerous to leave on his own.

So, you take him to the forest, planing on leaving him go but…

“I dont want to leave you alone…”

He’d speak with conviction, looking at you as your eyes widened and your face dropped. Just what you feared would happen. He’d hold your hands together, looking at you with some concern before smiling softly, kissing both of your palms.

“I came here for a reason, that much I know, and I know that reason is within you… Allow me to stay by your side, and I’ll do everything in my power to make it worth it.”

You have no power in you to say no, to turn down his offer after his gentle and sweet words, that day you realized that perhaps he did come to your world for a reason, a world so clad in evil and pain…

If you’re wondering what he’d do in your world, then…

When not travelling nor reading, he’s at home with you, cooking or revisiting each place he has gone to to help. He’s become… a sort of Messiah, you cant help it, become public enemy no.1 to some, and a savior to others, it truly depended on who you were asking. Your gaze would follow his as he trailed on a book you both were reading before he’d lean and kiss your forehead, things were… easy, happy with him there… You felt much happier.

“Is something the matter, sapling?” He’d ask, his gentleness carrying over to his voice as he hummed at your words saying it was nothing, but he knew better, still, he wouldnt push. “Are you perhaps tired?”

You pouted slightly before nodding, yes, you were quite tired, but you didnt want to admit to it. Still, he’d nod before moving the book to the side and lifting you into his arms. He’d carry you to your shared bedroom, careful on his way there before setting you on the bed with him, cozily, softly, carrying you to him as he pressed his lips on your forehead and your body to his.

“Sleep well, sunshine” He’d say, brushing hairs off your face before speaking again “Thank you for accepting me into your world…”

Honestly, how could you not at this point? With that thought in your head… You fell asleep.

[brawberryz]

Please don't leave me alone

Batfam Yan! × Eva Pilot! Reader

Note:English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

You were a normal student

Or well almost nothing was normal in this world, but in your life it was pretty normal

You were a first year student, you weren't very sociable but it's not like you didn't have friends either. You were the middle point of being someone extroverted and introverted

But that's not the main issue, a few days ago you had received a letter from your father, father...

Years ago you hadn't heard from him, well when you were younger you remembered him but since the incident you haven't seen him anymore

Since then you have been living with your teacher, he was a good guy and he was a good father figure for your depressed self

You didn't imagine that after so much time your father would want to talk to you although you didn't complain

You were in front of a telephone booth, you were trying to contact the boy in the photo which your father had sent to look for you

Richard "Dick" Grayson

But your attempts failed, all the telephone lines were cut so it was impossible to have some kind of contact, apparently it was because of the attack of something, you didn't know very well what but the streets were empty so it must be something serious and dangerous

"Ugh, I shouldn't be here..."

You said as you left the phone and picked up your bag, you were still in your school uniform, they hadn't even given you time to change, now you were here in the middle of an abandoned city with no signal

"I guess it won't make it in time, I should go to some shelter"

You said letting out a long sigh, you knew it wasn't a good idea to listen and come to this place, but your desire to be able to see your father after so long won but you were slowly regretting that

You put your bag on your shoulder and began to walk through the abandoned streets trying to find some kind of shelter to protect yourself

But before you could do anything a loud explosion was heard near you made the whole city shake like some kind of earthquake or schism, that explosion could have easily damaged your eardrums and made them bleed

"What's going on..."

You said scared looking up right where like some "airplanes?" Strangers came out of a place

And there you saw it... a giant thing maybe bigger than a 30-story building, it was too scary you had never seen anything like that before, your body was in shock and you weren't able to move

You tried with all your might to make your body react in some way but it was impossible, it was as if your feet were stuck to the ground

Some large missiles passed close to you and you instinctively crouched down protecting your head, whatever that thing was was too dangerous

You saw how those missiles barely did any damage to that creature, what kind of strange monster was that creature, the only thing you could do was watch in a daze as the fight developed

The creature threw something from its hands causing one of the planes to fall and to your bad luck it fell right next to you, you could barely react when the plane fell in front of you, you were lucky not to be crushed

But it seems luck was not on your side today (if it ever was) You were lucky) there was another explosion and the creature staggered towards you causing its foot to step on the plane causing a huge explosion, you fell to the ground and tried to cover yourself with your arms accepting your end

But you didn't feel anything, you heard the sound of a car braking hard in front of you and the door opening, you looked up and saw it

"Come in, sorry for being late"

The boy said giving you a sad smile, you could barely process everything that was happening it was too much for your poor teenage brain

"What are you waiting for? Come in now!"

The boy spoke again, it felt more like an order than a request, you quickly came out of your state of shock and quickly climbed into the passenger seat, buckling your seat belt tightly.

"Hold on tight, this is going to be a bit of a dangerous ride."

Before you could respond, Richard accelerated the car as fast as he could before the car was run over by the creature.

He drove as fast as the car would allow him until he reached a more remote place, you felt like you were about to die from the car flipping so much.

After a few minutes, Richard stopped on a small hill in the distance, he let out a sigh of relief and then turned his gaze to you.

"Sorry about that, I know it was too much to process but- wait a minute."

Richard stopped talking in the middle of his sentence as soon as he saw something in the window, he quickly took out a pair of binoculars from a small drawer in the car.

He quickly moved closer to the car window to see more clearly.

"Wait a minute, are they going to use the N-2 mine!?"

Richard said in surprise before grabbing your arm and pulling you against him to use his body as a shield.

"Bend down and hold on to me!"

You barely had time to react when a huge explosion was heard making everything nearby shake, with so many explosions you heard today you swore you were about to go deaf

A strong gust hit the car causing it to fall and spin around on the ground, you felt Richard hug you tighter, he wasn't going to allow you to get hurt in any way and if that meant he had to be some kind of human shield he was going to be

After a few minutes things calmed down and they were able to get out of the car unharmed

"Hey little one, are you okay?"

Richard asked worriedly looking at you on the ground trying to calm your labored breathing

"Yes...yes I'm fine"

You gave him a half smile, so many things had happened in less than 1 hour and your head was only full of doubts and more doubts

You just wanted to go home and have that monotonous life

"Okay, now help push the car"

You just nodded getting up from the ground and shaking off your uniform, you helped him push the car with all your strength

It was difficult the car was too heavy but after a few minutes they were able to do it

"Thanks for the help, (name)"

He gave you a grateful smile, he gave you a small pat on the head

"Don't worry, I should be the one who should thank you, thanks grayson"

You said shyly, in a way you were grateful that he had risked his life to protect you

"Just call me Richard, there's no need to be so formal"

You just nodded and then got into the car with him. It was going to be a long trip, but you felt a little safe with him. It was like having an older brother.

_

"This place is so big!"

You said in amazement walking through the large facilities, you had never been in a place like this

NORV was an amazing place, you couldn't believe that you were going to have something to do with this place

"Too big I would say.."

Richard said as he looked at a map of the place, he hadn't remembered that the place would be so confusing and giant

The two of you were going down an escalator, you were too focused on reading the manual that Richard had given you to pay attention to your surroundings

"I wonder where Barbara is..." he said in a small whisper "I'm sorry, I don't know the place that well"

The boy said embarrassed, you just nodded without paying much attention to what he was saying

You were walking for a few minutes until you reached a hallway

"I think it should be here, follow me"

He said grabbing your arm, you weren't going to tell him out loud but it bothers you a little that you touched you so freely, you felt that he had gained too much confidence in such a short time and that made you uncomfortable, he barely gave you your personal space and treated you as if he had known you all your life

You just made a small sound of acceptance and then continued walking, you got into a small elevator and you were there for a few seconds

Just when the elevator opened a red-haired woman appeared with a serious expression looking at Richard

"Ah!, hello Barbara, how long?"

Richard said greeting her with a smile, you just kept your eyes on the book pretending not to pay attention

The girl just nodded and got into the elevator with you

"I could say the same..."

She said in a monotone as she leaned against the wall of the elevator, Richard let out an awkward laugh as he adjusted his uniform

You just pretended not to feel the awkward atmosphere that the two of them radiated together

"Is this the girl Bruce was talking about?"

Barbara pointed at you, you just shrank further into your book

"Yes, the institute reported to us that she is the third kid chosen"

Mmm, I see, well it's nice to meet you"

He gave you a small smile as he gave your shoulders a small squeeze

"Likewise"

You nodded nervously, you returned your attention to the book at this moment you felt that your only safe place was this manual on the NORV facilities

"You and your father look so alike, it seems that neither of you are able to smile or show your emotions"

Richard let out a small laugh as he said that, Barbara simply nodded at Richard's poorly made joke

They continued to go up in the elevator, they began to talk about something that you didn't really understand nor did you care

They exited the elevator and arrived at a hallway, just as the three of them arrived and entered the door slammed

"I-it's really dark!"

You said confused, it's not that you were afraid of the dark you were just afraid of not seeing your way and tripping over something

But before anyone could answer the light went out Suddenly it turned on

And there it was, it was the biggest robot you had ever seen in your life, you could only see its head but it still looked big, it was buried in a bright pink liquid you wanted to ask what it was but you decided not to say anything

You decided to flip through the book to see if you could find any information about this giant robot

"You won't find any information there"

Barbara said staring at you

"Uh..."

You looked at her confused as you listened to what she was saying

"This is the latest combat weapons system created by humans, an artificial life form called...evangelion or in a few words unit 01"

You just nodded at all the information you received, you barely understood what she was telling you, this was too much to understand for a teenager like you

"Is this what my father does?"

You asked curiously staring at Barbara

"You got closer, congratulations, (name)"

You heard A voice, one you recognized all too well, you looked up and there he was

Watching you from a window above, it seemed as if nothing had changed he still had that cold and disinterested look he always gave you when you were younger

"D-dad..."

You said in shock, so much time had passed that you didn't even know how to start a conversation with him, what should you tell the man who left you for more than 10 years

"Activate the Eva"

Bruce said bluntly as he stared at you

"Activate the Eva!? But unit 01 is still in preliminary phase, did they lose their minds?"

Richard couldn't believe what Bruce was asking, it was too dangerous for you to get on that Eva, you could easily die or get hurt

The mere thought of you being hurt made Richard's stomach turn, he wasn't going to allow another innocent child to get hurt to fulfill Bruce's whims

"We have no choice, Richard"

Barbara said dryly

"But Damian is too hurt to be able to be a pilot and (Name) doesn't even know how to fly one!"

Richard tried to get Barbara or Bruce to see reason but his attempts were only ignored

"Well today he will learn, are you ready (name)?"

Barbara turned her gaze to you, you swallowed hard you felt too scared and confused were you supposed to get into that thing!?

"What...really?"

You said confused

"Yes..."

No There was time, all the pilots they had were too injured to be able to handle any Eva, (name) was the last salvation

The angel was approaching and causing destruction in its path, it was now or never, the fate of the world right now weighed on your shoulders

"But it took Damian more than 6 months to synchronize with the Eva! She barely arrived and if it's too dangerous and she won't stand it, have you thought about that!?"

Richard got defensive again trying to get Barbara to see reason

" (name) just needs to get into the capsule and everything will be fine" Barbara said "But-" Before Richard could speak again Barbara interrupted him "defending humanity from the angels is our highest priority, we need someone to be able to synchronize with the Eva even if the chances are almost zero"

Richard just stayed quiet, he knew she was right but he didn't want to admit it, he hated the way he felt his heart tighten every time he thought about the possibility of you getting hurt or worse yet dead

"Fine, but if something happens to (name), you'll regret it"

Richard spoke in a somber tone looking at Barbara, the woman just looked at him for a few seconds before just nodding

"Okay, (name) get ready you'll get on the Eva"

You just nodded, you didn't know what was about to happen but you didn't like it

_

You had woken up in a hospital bed, your whole body hurt, you felt like you had a bandage on your left eye

You barely had time to react when the door opened abruptly, there was Richard

He had a worried look on his face, before you could say anything he launched himself at you giving you a big hug

"(Name)! Thank god you'are okay I thought you were going to die..."

He said hugging you tighter, you didn't know what he meant by that you could barely remember what had happened but you thought that finally you were going to be able to be calm

But how wrong you were

The days passed faster than you would like, you were accepted to be an Eva pilot

It seems that in your fight with the angel the Eva went into an aggressive mode and controlled itself while you were in a state of shock

During your short time being an Eva pilot you learned to control it better But you still hated handling it

You managed to meet other Eva pilots called Tim and Damian

Tim was very talkative not as much as Richard but he still talked a lot, you made a small friendship with him

With Damian it didn't go so well, he was too quiet it seemed as if he had no emotions, you simply decided to leave him since you thought he didn't like you

Days passed and you met more people like Jason, stehp, Cass and Duke

Some were retired pilots and others who helped repair the Evas like Jason and Stehp

For the first time you felt important as if you really mattered

Too bad that happiness ends little by little

Every day that passed you felt like each one of them became more possessive and weird

Every time you met someone other than them that person disappeared out of nowhere

Every time you came back from a fight with an angel and was too hurt Richard treated you like a fucking baby

And you hated him too much, you were old enough to be able to take care of such superficial wounds

They didn't even let you be with other people other than them, they even fought to see who would sit with you at lunch, in those cases you simply went to your room to lock yourself in and eat

But you didn't even feel safe there, the last time you checked your room to clean it you found a hidden camera among your things, and there was only one person who would be able to do that

Bruce, that son of a bitch you swore that if you saw him again you would kill him

But you knew very well that you would never You were going to be able to do it

You had no one, Bruce was the only family you had left out there you were no one, not even your mother her death was still engraved in your head, you still had nightmares about it

The only thing you could do was ignore all of that and pretend it didn't affect you

You felt like you were tangled in a spider web and every time you moved you only got more tangled

Maybe you should just stop moving and hope that maybe at some point those spider webs would loosen and you could get out

But you knew it wasn't true

You were trapped just like an insect, being the spider's prey and you would stay trapped there until your body is completely rotted

Dying there without being able to be free again

What's the point of living if you're not even able to enjoy life

If you see any similarity with Evangelion chapter 1, it is literally lol

So far I think this is the longest one shot I wrote

I hope the person who asked me for this enjoys it, I'm really happy with the result

Maybe I'll do other one shots about this Evangelion AU 🔥

[hellfire--cult]

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️18+: lots of angst, mentions of pregnancy (not reader), evil person appearing, reader having a crisis, some violence, eddie being a sweetheart, hurt/comfort

wc: 9.9k

A/N: i didn't take a month to update, wow. hope you all like this chapter because here is where everything starts turning a lil more serious. thank you @andvys for always proofreading for me 💕

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

Taglist is closed

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CHAPTER 21

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You tapped that pen on the desk as you held onto your forehead. A headache was forming as you started thinking of how to cope with the next interviews you will have with this woman. A successful woman who had many clothing brands to her name. One who wanted many pages with her clothes on display by various models. A woman.

A pregnant woman.

You weren’t resentful. You weren’t angry or jealous… You just know if things would have gone different, you would have a child in your arms by now. You would be showing that baby off like your pride and joy. Looking at a pregnant woman was like looking at the one thing you never reached, the one dream that was so close to being completed only for it to be ripped apart. Ripped from your grasp by two evil beings.

That was the unfair part. If it were your fault, if it were something that had happened to you, then you would have no one to blame but yourself. That was the part you were still resentful of. The part you hated to dwell on. The part you didn’t want to remember. You often wondered if you could even hold a baby. Would your heart let you? Would it allow you to feel the warmth of someone else’s baby after what you went through? 

You sighed as you fixed the papers on your desk, looking at the name of the woman. She was kind, she seemed happy and radiant, holding her pregnant belly as she discussed business with you and Liana. You saw how she used her left hand that held a beautiful wedding ring on her ring finger, and she rubbed it all over her belly, laughing when she got distracted when her baby kicked.

You wanted to feel it, yet you didn’t. You wanted to know how it felt, how it all could be… but you also didn’t want to be reminded of what you didn’t get to have, and maybe, ever have. At this rate, is there someone out there that won’t fuck you over? Someone you are willing to trust? 

And he popped in your head.

As soon as he did, you shook your head, brushing him off. He wasn’t a good idea. You know about his record of women, you know who he is and what he does. You would not be surprised if you came to find out he is fucking someone else apart from you right now. You wouldn’t be surprised. He can do whatever he wants, can’t he? Just like you do. You two are unattached. As it should be.

This was just beneficial for the two of you. You were friends who had a great time together in and out of bed, and that was it. You are happy that that is it. Don’t you? Yeah, you are. You are not looking for a relationship, much less with Eddie Munson. From what you know, he has never been in a serious relationship. He’s never had a girlfriend before, and you asked around. You asked Steve, Jonathan, Nancy… they all gave you the same answer: Eddie does not do relationships.

Your pen dropped from your hand, a gulp sounding in the room. You were blinking a few times as you breathed again and grabbed the pen once more. 

But you couldn’t help but imagine it. You wanted to invite him to stay over often and not just leave in the morning. You want him to eat breakfast with you, or lunch, whatever. It was as if whenever you got together first with your friends, you used that time to be together like friends and just that. Enjoy a movie together, some drinks, a dinner, but then everyone leaves and you are on each other like animals in heat season.

You wondered if he ever wanted to spend a night with you alone, but… watching a movie. Or having some pizza together with some beers and play games… or– wait, you are thinking about a date. You are thinking of going on a date with Eddie. But is it? You two are like that when not fucking eachother’s brains out, so what’s wrong with spending time with him as a friend and just a friend? It isn’t weird.

You should offer it, but what if Eddie actually thinks you are asking him on a date? Or what if he thinks that because you want to do something friendly with him, you are putting an end to it all? Why are you overthinking this? You didn’t before, and you should stop. He is not racking his brains over this like you are, so you shouldn’t.

“Knock knock.” You raised your head to see Robin knocking on your open door, a small smile on her lips. You knew why she was here, so you let her in, putting the pen down on the papers on your desk. She walked in, leaving the door open, tilting her head towards you. “You okay?” “Yeah… Yeah, I am Robs.” You sighed and one thing is to pass by a lovely couple where the woman is pregnant and not see them again, and the other is this. Meeting this woman several times and knowing that at one point you will find her sitting on that chair with her baby in her arms instead of inside her belly. 

“Okay… Liana is calling for everyone in the cafeteria. She wants to tell us something important.” You frowned at that, wondering what it could all be, because Liana always made sure you were one of the few to know first about things or deals happening to the company. 

“What?” Robin shrugged at your question and continued.

“She was smiling, so I am not assuming the worst, you know…” Okay, that calms you down slightly. You nod and get up from your desk, smiling at Robin as she smirks and points at your neck. “Things are turning serious?”

“What?” You covered your neck with your hand, cursing at Eddie in your mind. After he dropped Argyle off from a night at Jonathan’s bar, he drove you to his house, and there wasn’t any sex, just him with a sudden hunger to eat you out, and make you see stars consecutively. 

That was a new development. Eddie was very into making you cum. He told you he would make you cum at least twice whenever you two stayed together, and he sure is taking that promise seriously. You weren’t complaining, but he made you feel… wanted. And you didn’t want to feel like that… You didn’t want to feel… hopeful.

“When can I properly meet Jeff? Like, as your best friend, so I can do that whole ‘Hurt her and I murder you’ speech.” Robin said with a smile and you felt guilty. So, so guilty. How do you tell her this is not serious? How do you even begin to explain to her that this is not what it looks like at all? 

How do you even tell her it’s not Jeff, but Eddie you’re seeing?

“Never because this is not serious and never will be.” The words stung in your tongue and you tried brushing it away with a roll of your shoulders, in which Robin caught on. Your hands fumbled in your purse to get the concealer out so you could reapply it on the hickey and some powder to conceal it. 

“You look upset about that.” Her words made you look up as you popped the concealer open and walked towards the mirror in your office. 

“Upset? Why would I be upset?” You asked, your heart racing slightly at your own question but Robin stood next to you, crossing her arms over her chest as you applied two dots of concealer on the skin of your neck.

“Because whenever you roll your shoulders, crack your neck, or don’t even look at me, it means something is not going as you planned.” You gulped a lump that was suddenly bothering you in your throat as you stared at Robin through the mirror. You weren’t upset. Why would you be? Why would you be upset at all about how things are going? You aren’t. 

“You’re wrong. I’m perfectly fine with what I have now, and, I– I am still talking to other people.”

“Bullshit! Jeff is the only one you’ve been seeing for a month now or more and you confessed to me that no one fucks you like–”

“Yeah, yeah, got it! I know what I said but– We aren’t exclusive even! So– Who knows? Maybe he is out there, fucking someone else right now!” You froze for a second at your words. Could that be happening? Could that be something that Eddie was doing? You two don’t really talk about being with other people, nor have you had any indication of him sleeping with someone else but, he is in all his right. He can do whatever he wants, just like you can. You just decide not to because you’re afraid of being disappointed and embarrassed for the other person for not performing like Eddie does.

That was all. 

“Well then, make it exclusive!” Robin’s voice was loud, which made you shush her with a movement of the concealer wand as you put it back in the container. You passed the tube to her and opened the powder to set it on your neck. 

“I won’t because we don’t want that.” You could feel the pulse in your neck becoming quicker the longer you held this conversation.

“How do you know he doesn’t want that?” Robin’s voice was slowly starting to annoy you as you walked back to your desk, ripping the concealer out of her hands to put it back in your purse. 

“We talked about it already, and we just want to keep having sex. That is all there is.” You straightened up, fixing your blazer and turning to look at her. “So?”

Robin looked you up and down and did an ok sign with her fingers, “Unnoticeable.”

“Perfect. Do you have any idea what she wants?” You asked as you walked out of your office, Robin closing the door behind her as you two went to the elevator.

“I have no idea. She wants everyone to be in the cafeteria for an announcement. I don’t know what could possibly be.” Robin replied as you two got into the elevator and pressed for the second floor, the door closing in front of you. “She’s not retiring, isn’t she?”

“Oh my god, Robin, Liana is only forty-one.” To your answer, Robin shrugged. Once the doors opened, you all walked out and moved to the cafeteria where many people were already waiting and talking to eachother, speculating into what the news could be. You wondered if any of the rumors that were happening were true. 

Some speculated she was resigning. Some speculated the company was going to close down. Some were saying she was just going to give out the announcement for a better salary. You did not have a single clue what was happening, except for the fact Liana seemed happier, and she was being less strict with everything around her. Fuck, maybe she was resigning.

You stood next to Robin who was already grabbing a muffin from the counter, but your nerves didn’t let you sit still. You couldn’t even think of eating something right now, afraid that it would get caught in your throat. You had a feeling something you weren’t going to like was going to happen, but maybe it was just your nerves and the client situation throwing you off… and the talk you just had with Robin.

Liana walked in, smiling as she greeted a few, coming over to stand in the middle of the cafeteria. Everyone greeted her like the superstar she was, a renamed magazine director. A magazine that despite the technological changes, it’s up and running, changing it from the public view, to only be a magazine, a catalogue, for clothing brands. 

“Okay, hello!” Liana greeted you all, and you fidgeted in your place as she looked all over the employees, or well, most of them, which weren’t a lot. Just thirty people in the building right now. “So, I bet you are all not figuring out why I called you here.”

“No idea Liana, so please, spare us from the anxiety.” A male coworker laughed, which prompted everyone to let out a chuckle, as well as Liana.

“Sure, it’s going to be quick. For the next month… I will be looking for a temporary replacement.” Your eyes widened as you turned to look at Robin, who was wide-eyed just as you were.

“Temporary?” Someone asked and your eyes looked back at Liana, and you just felt a shiver run down your spine. Something was telling you to get out of there. Something was telling you to simply run away. Something was telling you that you shouldn’t listen to this.

“Yes… I have been hiding something from all of you. My personal life is something I wanted to keep apart from my work as much as I could, but these new decisions require me to be open about it now.” You felt your blood going cold. Your hands were tense. Your tongue was dry.

“Don’t tell me…” Robin’s whisper was far away as you only focused on Liana, who was smiling widely, her hands opening her blazer, and there happened to be a belly. A swollen belly. A pregnant belly.

“I’m going on maternity leave. I’m six months pregnant.”

If there was any clapping, any cheering, any kind of reaction to that, you were numb to it. You were deaf to whatever was happening. Everything moved in slow motion for you right now, and you were trying to process what she had just said. You were trying to make it make sense but it just didn’t. How? When?

She is pregnant. Your boss is fucking pregnant. Everyone is getting pregnant.

You want to leave. You want to run away but you can’t. Just because it didn’t happen for you, it doesn’t mean people can’t live that. Just because you couldn’t make it happen doesn’t mean others cannot. You had to be rational about it. You had to be a grown up and you have moved on from this. You did.

So why do you feel like throwing up? Why do you feel like the world is crumbling on top of your head? Why do you feel like you won’t reach anything you ever want? Why are you so envious? Why?

“Baby, snap out, please.” Robin’s words made you blink, looking at her through lost eyes. Her eyebrows were met in the middle in a worried frown. Pity. You could see the pity and you didn’t want to see it, or feel it. 

“I’m fine. I’m alright, just shocked, I didn’t even… know she had a partner.” You tried to play it cool as shock and not utter disappointment in your life. You were trying to play it off as if it wasn’t one of the worst things you heard in the past week.

“It’s… okay to feel sad– You just had a client–”

“My two doves!” Liana’s voice broke you from your conversation with Robin, making you look at her with words being stuck in your throat. You didn’t want to face her but you had to. You were being childish. You need to make your heart stop turning a bit in your chest cavity and tell your stomach to stop flipping upside down.

“Hi Liana…” Robin was side-eyeing you as you kept looking at your boss, your breaths quite heavy. “I’m– Congratulations! I didn’t know you had a partner!”

“Oh, yes! I do, it was kind of… an on and off thing until we decided to make it work and well… take the next step for me before it was too late and all!” Your boss said with a smile and– The baby was going to be born in something that was broken? Your throat was dry, not even gulping down saliva helped. Liana turned to look at you, “I’m sorry for not telling you. Especially you.”

You didn’t know what to say. You had to say something. This was like a praise coming from her because it meant you were one of her favorites. You cleared your throat, and you were hoping you were mustering a smile, because you couldn’t exactly feel your face right now.

“I’m not mad, Li. I’m just… very surprised…” You said and she smiled, holding her hand out. You frowned a bit, putting your hand on hers and– No. Please, no. She directed your hand to her belly, so you could press your palm against it and you felt the entire world caving in for you. It was soft. It was so soft and there was a baby in there.

“Still, sorry… But! Can you feel him? A strong baby boy is growing in there!” She was smiling, excited, and she was so happy to make you be the one to touch her belly, something private, something intimate. And all you felt was anger. Sadness. Jealousy. Resentment. 

You forced another of your smiles but the moment you felt her belly bump slightly, signaling the baby inside was moving, the bad thoughts were gone momentarily. Someone so pure, so innocent and beautiful. A baby boy. Your eyes went towards Liana who was smiling expectantly at you, making you tilt your head in question.

“What is it?”

“You’re my first choice.” She whispered and Robin’s eyes widened as you retreated your hand back in shock. 

“Sorry?”

“My replacement. I think it will give you… amazing training. I will be looking at others just in case you decide to not take it but… It will give you a pay raise and it stays that way even when I return from my leave… and then… when I retire…” 

Was Liana telling you she wanted to make you her successor? She wanted to train you to be the next CEO of this company? You should be so happy. You should be up on the moon by this revelation. You knew you were one of Liana’s favorites but never to this extent. And even now, realizing this, your smile was still forced. Your excitement was forced. Your happiness was forced.

“Are you serious? Do you seriously think I can do a good job?” Your voice was small, and Liana only smiled as she nodded and then put a finger over her lips to signal you to keep quiet and then looked at Robin.

“Not a word of this, especially you babbling Robin.” Robin only gave a salute in response as Liana winked at the both of you and walked away. You just stood there, seeing how she put her hand on her belly as she walked to the next set of people. You felt your heart combusting into itself, a huge fire expanding all over you, and you had to try to shake it off. You had to try to shake this moment away because you were feeling humiliated. Defeated.

“Wow, I’m happy for you!” You knew Robin was trying to look at the bright side of things for you. You knew she was trying her best and that she could see the twitch in your eye. The way your gaze didn’t leave Liana’s belly for one second. A baby that was sporadically planned. A baby that, maybe, was planned to save a marriage. 

It wasn’t fair.

“I… yeah.” You finally turned to look at Robin, and you felt your hand itching to reach your phone. To text someone. Him. You wanted to text Eddie. You wanted to see Eddie but why? He is a friend, first and foremost and he has had your back in bad situations before. That’s why. You just feel like you can count on him. That’s all there was.

“We should… go out and celebrate tonight! Go to Jon’s bar and have a few drinks…” Your eyes were distant and your mind suddenly switched. You shouldn’t be sad. You shouldn’t. You were offered to take over Liana’s spot while she was gone. A CEO position! It was big shit! You give her a slow nod, a small genuine smile finally appearing on your lips as Robin could almost sigh in relief.

“Yeah. Yeah! I mean it’s not an official thing, but she said it! I’m her top choice! And you bet your ass Robin I’m taking it.” Robin did a small little happy dance for you, giving a small clap and you finally felt a little bit of the tension you were feeling leave your shoulders.

As long as you don’t look at your boss’ belly, you’ll be fine.

You took another shot with Robin. This being your fourth one of the night.

Nancy was sitting next to her, in front of you, while next to you sat the man you’ve been wanting to see since yesterday night. Since today morning. Since today afternoon. Eddie smirked as he drank his water, having drank only one shot but keeping the status of designated driver in check.

“A CEO, now that’s something else.” Eddie mentioned as you turned your head to look at him, the alcohol not kicking in at all for you, unlike Robin who was already buzzing with it, nudging Nancy who was giggling next to her. 

“I am not a CEO yet, but I am going to be trained to be one.” He hummed in approval, raising his glass at you, prompting you to raise your daiquiri, a sweet drink to show your happiness. That’s definitely what you felt. You two clinked glasses and then you felt your knee being squeezed slightly underneath the table, making your breath hitch for a second.

“Congrats, Peach. You deserve that.” His smile was genuine as he directed it your way and you had to stop your damn heart from beating so fast. There was no need for it to go that quickly. 

“Damn right she does! She got so many clients!” Robin said with a cheer, making you flush as she praised you in front of your friends, making you look down at your glass as you took a sip from it.

“Why are you going into training, though?” Nancy asked, and you stiffened in your place for a second, and the man next to you noticed. You cleared your throat and opened your mouth to talk but Robin beat you to it, which made your blood go cold, not wanting to give the actual explanation or even hear it.

“Liana is leaving because–”

“I’m going to the bar to get another drink.” You said as you raised from your seat, the warm hand that was on your knee retreating for you to scoot away and out of the booth with your almost empty daiquiri glass. You want a beer now. You really want a beer. You know Robin will tell them, but you do not want to listen to it. You don’t want to see the pitiful looks on their faces, much less Eddie’s.

You slowly walked through the crowd, the bar a little crowded thanks to it being a happy hour on a Thursday. Many people came here after work, just like all of you did many times. You reached the bar, Jonathan smiling as he walked up to you from behind it as he cleaned a glass.

“Another one?”

“I want a beer.” His smile faded as a frown now came to happen in his eyebrows and you knew he realized something changed, that something happened.

“Did something happen over there?” You shook your head as a signal of not wanting to talk about it. He gave a single nod as he leaned downwards, grabbing a beer out of the ice bucket. He popped it open as he handed the bottle to you and took the glass of your daiquiri away from you. “Don’t drink too much, you got work tomorrow.”

“Are you my mom?” You gave him a small smile, which he reciprocated, shaking his head at you. His head perked up when he heard someone calling him from the other side of the bar. He gave you a wink before moving away from you, leaving you to stand there with the beer in front of you. You took a long sip of it, feeling the bitterness run down your throat and you groaned at it. 

Why did it have to hit you once again? Why did they have to ask? You didn’t want to turn around, afraid that the group of three might be looking your way with frowns on their faces. You didn’t want to go back and hear the typical ‘It will be okay’. You don’t care. You shouldn’t care.

“Darling?”

Your body froze.

That wasn’t Eddie’s voice. That wasn’t Jonathan’s voice. That wasn’t any of the people you knew in this town’s voice. No. It cannot be. It shouldn’t be. It’s just someone with the same vocal chords, people can have identical voices. It can happen. But, you need to make sure. You need to make sure that it’s not what you think it is. Who you think it is.

Your head turned to your left and you felt your heart dropping to the floor. You no longer feel the cold of the beer in your hand as you stare at the blue-colored eyes in front of you, at the blonde hair that was nice and kept, at the office attire he was wearing. No. Why? Why now? Why here? Why in the bubble you had created for over a year? Why?

“I thought that my eyes had deceived me, but it really is you.” He dared to send a smile your way. He dared to fucking smile at you. He dared to talk to you. He dared to even acknowledge you.

“Henry.” He straightened up in his seat at your small voice. You were just staring at him, wide eyed, frozen. You couldn’t feel your limbs. This was not right. 

“Hi, darling.” You noticed the twinge of nervousness in his tone and you finally felt your body tremble a little bit. You could feel the adrenaline rushing all over as your stomach flipped inside out. 

“Don’t… Don’t call me that.” You stuttered, looking away from him, anywhere, but your vision was blurry, hazy even. Was the alcohol finally hitting you? Right now? No, that wasn’t it. No.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… It’s nice to see you’re… fine.” How fucking dare he say that to you? The pent-up anger was rising in your throat like vile, but then it was just a feeling of pure humiliation as you remembered the two pregnant women you saw today. Something that could have happened to you if he hadn’t gone cheating on you with your best friend. If he hadn’t tricked you. If they hadn’t done an illegal thing to you. 

“Fine…” You scoffed at him, still with a lost look in your eyes, not wanting to look at him. Your tongue was hurting you, your throat was closing up on you, and you felt every inch of your body wanting to rip open. 

“I– I asked your mom where you went… She didn’t really want to give me any details, and that was fair but… I didn’t think I would need a business trip to meet you here.” You finally dared to look at him. Why was he saying these things to you? Why did he even care to talk to you after what he’d done to you?

“I did the divorce papers, and I left, and you should be fucking thankful I didn’t have the energy to take legal action for what you two did to me.” Your mouth was moving all by itself as you talked to him, and Henry sighed, giving a nod your way.

“I know, I know, but– I never got to tell you I am sor–”

“Don’t you even fucking dare to go there.” You wanted to smash the beer in his face. You wanted to bolt out of there. You needed to run. You felt your fingers having an itch to connect to his face in a fist. Did he think the word ‘sorry’ would mend things up? Did he think he would redeem himself with that stupid single word?

“I know we hurt you, but I’m honestly glad you’re alright–”

“Alright? Alright… Yes… In another city, away from my own mother. Yes. I am alright.” He noticed the sarcasm in your voice, the hatred and the pain displayed in your eyes and when you stared at him you couldn’t help but remember how your hand felt over the swollen belly. How the baby moved inside. How it felt to touch something you might never have. How it felt to touch the one thing you thought he would help you in getting.

“You need to calm down, I just– I just wanted to say hi–”

“Hello.” 

Now that voice you recognized. Your head turned to your left as well as Henry’s did. You saw how Eddie’s gaze was trained on him. How he was scanning every inch of your ex husband, not knowing it was him. You– You wanted to leave. You wanted to run away.

“Who are you?” Henry asked as he looked at you and then back at Eddie. He pointed back and forth, “Do you know him?”

“Yes… a friend.” Eddie’s eyes only looked at you when he noticed how small your voice was. You knew he felt something was wrong, and it seems he realized you were not going to introduce the two of them.

“I’m Eddie. You are?” You just stood there, staring at Henry as the asshole smiled politely, sticking his hand out. 

“I’m Henry. Um… Her Ex-Husband. Old friend.” 

You could feel how silent everything went between the three of you. You turned to look at Eddie and– His eyes were staring at Henry’s face. You noticed a vein popping on the side of his neck, and even with all the tattoos, you started to notice the redness that was starting to slowly appear. Your senses were slowly coming back to you as your intuition was telling you that something was going to happen.

“Henry… huh.” Eddie’s voice was low, sending chills down your spine. You didn’t expect Eddie to take Henry’s hand, shaking it slowly. You could use Eddie as a scapegoat, tell Henry to go away, or maybe you could leave, but– “Yeah, I know you.”

And then it was a blur. First you were watching how Eddie was shaking your ex-husband’s hand, and the next, Eddie had pulled him towards him and head-butted Henry right in the middle of the forehead. Then it was a punch. Then another. Then on the floor. Then more punches. You could hear yelling, screaming, Jonathan pulling Eddie away from Henry with your help.

You saw Henry on the floor, holding his face, his nose all bloody, a busted lip. How many punches did Eddie throw? You weren’t sure. Your body was moving, but your mind was not registering anything of what was happening. There was a lot of yelling, Nancy and Robin grabbing you and pulling you out of the bar with Eddie and Jonathan. 

Your eyes caught sight of Eddie still screaming, yelling, his eyes could have been red from the fury that you could feel emanating from him. Jonathan was screaming too as well as Nancy, maybe trying to calm Eddie down, but all you could focus on was the man that just hit your ex-husband square in the face. 

“We need to get out of here. Let’s get her home.” Was that Robin or Nancy? You didn’t know. You just felt yourself being moved, slowly regaining your senses back. You could hear Eddie talking to the girls as you all got into his car, wondering where he drives first.

“I want to be alone.” You were still looking at Eddie and he understood your sign. You could see the bit of confusion in his face that you decided to be with him, instead of Robin.

“You sure?” Robin was asking next to you, even with the slurring in her tongue, you knew she was worried for you. You appreciated it, you nodded at her but– You didn’t need her. You didn’t know what you needed. You needed a distraction as the images came back to your head, the alcohol finally hitting you after the adrenaline that just happened.

You felt your heart bursting as you got inside the passenger’s seat, Nancy and Robin in the back. Eddie was still looking your way, but all you could do was stare forward as he got into the driver’s seat. The car was moving, the lights were passing but all you could see were the smiling women holding their bellies. Henry and Camila in your bed fucking after your third consecutive procedure. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

Why here? Why did he have to have business here? Why? It wasn’t fair. Was he alone? You didn’t check if he had remarried. You didn’t want to check. You shouldn’t want to. Why would you want to? To see the people that hurt you have what they took away from you? What if Camila was also pregnant? Maybe she was. Maybe she fucking was by now. 

It wasn’t fair. 

“Call me if you need anything. I’ll be here.” You felt a kiss on your temple and you knew Robin had leaned forward from in between the passenger’s and driver’s seats and planted a kiss there. Or was it just pressure?

The car’s doors opened and closed and then it was just the wooden scent cologne and yourself. The drive started again, and you felt so numb. You felt dead. You needed to feel alive again, and Eddie might help with that. You needed Eddie. You wanted Eddie. 

The car ride was silent, and you couldn’t even look at him. It was humiliating for you that he met the man that fucked you over. That broke you. You didn’t want Eddie to be looking at you with worry or pity. You didn’t need that. You didn’t need people to feel sorry for you. You are strong, and you have been strong until now. 

You weren’t going to break. Not again.

The moment he parked, he looked your way as you got out of the car and you motioned for him to follow you. It was silent, it was too silent, but you just needed to reach your apartment. With Eddie. 

The moment you two walked inside your apartment, you felt the heat all over your body, the adrenaline, the emotions just traveling in every blood cell and white cell. You walked towards the couch as you heard the door closing, and you plopped down. 

“Peach… are you alright?” You heard his voice, but you could hardly register what he was asking. You felt the couch dip beside you and you turned your head to finally look at him and– He was looking at you with the eyes you didn’t want. He was staring at you with that pitiful look in his face that you didn’t need.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You asked, which made him blink your way and you didn’t even register your movements, that you were already climbing up on his lap, his eyes wide in surprise as you cradled his face in your hands. Your lips connected to his and you sighed in relief as you felt the warmth of his kiss against yours. 

Your hips swayed against him, and you felt him groan into the kiss as your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, flushing your body against him. His hands grabbed onto your waist, his head pulling back for a second as your breath hit his lips.

“Peach, hold on–” You didn’t listen, your head in overdrive as you kissed him again, this time a little more forcefully than before. You didn’t want to think and you didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to remember any of the events of today or from a year prior. You just needed to feel some warmth, some release. Your chest was against his as your hips kept moving against his, making you sigh into his mouth.

You took this opportunity to let go of him, not breaking the kiss, so you could take off your blazer and throw it away. You didn’t care for much right now, just that you needed to feel him. That you needed him. That you needed to shut your brain down with pleasure, but Eddie was not following your plan, which was making you grow irritated, desperate. He pulled away from your lips again, trying to talk once more.

“Hang on, for just a second–” And you didn’t let him. Your head dove into his neck, biting it gently, eliciting a grunt from his part.

“I need it.” Your voice was a whisper into his skin, your hands traveling to go underneath his shirt, ready to rip it away from him. The images need to go away. The memories need to disappear. Everything needs to go away. 

“Sweetheart–” You started kissing on his pulse point, your hips rubbing once more against him, and you could feel the bulge that started appearing but– He ripped you away from him, roughly, grabbing onto your biceps tightly. He was breathing heavily as he glared at you, and your eyes finally found his.

“Ed–”

“You don’t need this. You don’t need me like this… You need something else, Peach… I can give that too.” 

You just looked at him for a good while. This man that you consider a best friend at this point, despite what the two of you do behind closed doors and under your friends’ noses. Your eyes looked towards the hand that was holding your left bicep and– His knuckles were bloody. His knuckles were red and his skin had been cut. He hurt himself to hurt the man that hurt you.

And everything started sinking in.

Your eyes started burning with the incoming tears as you couldn’t handle the pain. The anger. The sadness. The disappointment. The humiliation you suffered. The struggle of seeing the cause of your pain once again after a year of running away from it. 

Your body shook as tears started leaving your eyes and going down your cheeks. You turned to look at him again, his eyes finding yours, telling you he was here. Telling you he was not going anywhere. You needed Eddie, just not in the way you thought. Your body shook aggressively three times thanks to trying to hold back sobs, only for the fourth one to finally come out.

Then it was one after the other. Eddie’s arms wrapped around your body, pulling you flush to him, laying your head on his shoulder as he let you cry on him. Once again, he was holding you as you cried. He was holding you through something you didn’t think you were going to relive again. You let out cries of pain, staining his shirt with your tears and makeup, but he didn’t care. He never pulled you off him. His hands rubbed your back as he rocked you from side to side and you couldn’t help but just cling to him.

You needed Eddie like this. You wanted Eddie like this.

You wanted Eddie to hold you all day. To tell you that everything was going to be alright. That everything was going to work out. You wanted him to kiss you, to forget, yet to not do more than just that. You wanted Eddie to keep holding you like this, close to him. You wanted more than just the roughness of a kiss or the insinuating touch. 

But it was a thought that your burdened and drunken mind could focus on tomorrow. Right now, you have to cry. You have to cry about the unfairness. You have to cry about what could have been. You are letting yourself cry and he is holding you and rocking you from side to side, soft shushes in your ears–

“I’m here, Peach… I got you, baby. I got you.” 

And when you closed your eyes, you drifted off. You were expecting that in your sleep you would be encountered with nightmares of your past, images of the memories that consumed your being. Instead, you dreamed of your friends. Instead, you dreamed of someone. Instead, you dreamed that somehow, somebody, was telling you to not lose hope. To not let a low life make you think you are not worthy of something like that. Of a family.

Your eyes opened to the sunlight entering your room through the sheer curtains. You winced slightly at the brightness, turning your head to find yourself all alone in your bed. You were wearing a shirt, some sleeping shorts, and you don’t really remember changing. You slowly sat up on your bed, wincing as you felt your body a little sore for some reason, and your neck was stiff.

Your cell phone caught your eyes, and you reached over to grab it, seeing that it was 10 AM. You scrolled through the screen, seeing a message from Robin, Nancy, Jonathan… Everyone was wondering how you were doing. You replied to everyone, telling them you were okay, and in all honesty… you felt lighter. You had overslept, missing work, and there was simple message from Liana telling you Robin told her you felt sick and to get better. You had the day off.

God bless Robin.

The sound of a pan falling outside your bedroom door startled you, making you jump. Oh, Eddie stayed. He didn’t go home. He stayed with you until the morning. Your heart rocked in your chest from side to side and you didn’t mind it this time. You didn’t tell it to calm down. Your feet found the floor, and you walked towards the door, slowly opening it and walking out towards your kitchen to see Eddie cursing as he scrambled some eggs. 

He was shirtless, wearing his boxers only, and your eyes trained on the couch. You winced slightly because of your behavior from last night. You tried to jump his bones when he was trying to stop you, and you feel so pathetic and little for falling into that dark place. You had to apologize and thank him for everything. Your eyes trained on his back, and you felt your stomach flipping inside, or were they butterflies? Nerves? 

“Eds–”

You saw him jump and basically screech, making your eyes go wide as your hand covered your mouth, containing a snort at the display. He turned around to look at you, spatula in one hand, the pan on the other. 

“You fucking scared me Peach, I didn’t think you would wake up until later.” He sighed, letting the air he gasped in when he got scared out. You couldn’t help but smile as he turned around and continued cooking. “The eggs are almost done, and also, you have a four-bread toaster, now that’s fancy shit.” 

“I won it at one of my company’s raffles.” Your voice was calm, walking over to the island counter to sit on one of the stools. You rested your elbows on the marble and put your chin on your hands, and just watched him. You watched him move in your kitchen as if he had always done this. Acting as if this is a common thing you two do every time you hook up with eachother, but this is one of the rare times you two had breakfast together. 

“Oh, can you get me one?”

“You can literally buy it at any electronics store!” You giggled, and he turned around with a cheeky smile on his face that made you crumble a little in your seat.

“It feels better when you win something.” He turned around and turned off the stove, dumping the scrambled eggs on two plates that already had two pieces of toast each. You felt pressure in your chest, a good one, as he turned around and placed the plate in front of you before he opened the fridge, taking out water and juice. He sat on the counter after placing them in front of the two of you and he presented it with both his hands. “Ta-da!”

You smiled at the plate before you, sitting up straight as you grabbed the water to pour yourself some in your glass, as Eddie served himself some juice. It felt domestic. Right. 

“We’ll see how good these eggs are, Munson.” He huffed at you as he grabbed a toast and placed some of the eggs on it with a fork.

“I make the best eggs in all Indiana, sweetheart.” He boosted himself as he took a big bite. Your smile faded as you saw the bruises and the bandaids on his knuckles. You dropped your fork as your hands moved quickly to hold on to his hand, making him almost drop the toast. He winced as he tried to chew– “Easy.”

“You hurt yourself.” His eyes clashed with yours as your body turned completely on the stool to face him. He sighed as he swallowed the bite, getting his hand out of your grasp to put the toast down. 

“He got it worse. I’m sorry, I couldn’t… contain myself when I realized who he was. I couldn’t help it.” He wasn’t really looking at you, but his jaw was clenched and you knew he was still angry, which instead of confusing you, it only made you happy. It made you feel cared for by someone.

“So you… punched him to defend my honor?” You tried to play it off with a small chuckle, but his eyes turned to look at you, serious, filled with something you couldn’t really decipher.

“Every punch I delivered yesterday was not even close enough to what he deserves. What he did, what they did to you… you didn’t deserve any of that.” Your smile had fallen, your eyes burning as you kept staring at him. Your jaw clenched as you felt the beginning of a lump forming in your throat.

“You didn’t… have to do it… but thank you…” He softly smiled at you, giving you a small nod.

“Yeah… I’m kind of banned from going to Jonathan’s bar for a while though… he got mad at me, pretty bad.” He chuckled nervously, and you winced a bit, looking down at your hands, feeling guilty at the situation. He went silent for a second, and he was probably deliberating if to talk about this with you or not. “Robin told us… about why you’re going into training.”

Your blood went cold once again, the memories of yesterday coming back. The news you received. The opportunity those news gave you. The emotions you felt the day before were too much… too much that you crashed out.

“I… yeah…” Your voice was small and fragile. You hated that you sounded like this but– at the same time you didn’t care he was hearing it. You didn’t know why you didn’t care, but you just didn’t. His body turned to face you, his hands pressing on your knees as he leaned to talk to you. Your eyes found his and you suddenly felt… warm.

“It will happen for you…” He stared at you for a while before he continued, “Let’s make a deal.”

“A deal?” Your eyebrow perked up in question and he nodded, his face serious with a glint of mischief and something else.

“When we turn 30, and if we are single… I’ll give you one.”

Your world stopped for a second. Maybe two. Three? What was he saying? 

“I… what?” You were shocked, stunned, not really sure if what just came out of his lips was real or if you had hallucinated it. He gave you a fond smile, his teeth showing.

“If we are single when we turn thirty, I’ll sign any papers you need, and we’ll have a baby together.” Your eyebrows twitched as your eyes kept burning and your body was trying to react in a way that you couldn’t contain much longer. 

“Why… I– You would have a kid… You are willing to have a baby with me? You don’t have to feel… sorry for me…” You were trying to not let your voice crack at the prospect of it. He was promising you a baby. This man in front of you, your friend, your best friend, the man you are fucking in a recurrent manner is promising to give you a baby if the time came that you didn’t have one yet, and both of you were without a partner.

“I want kids. I want a family too someday, and I honestly– Don’t think…” He bit his tongue for a second before continuing, “And I think that you would be the greatest mom in the entire world, so… it’s a win win for me.” 

This is the first time you heard him say he wanted kids. This is the first time you heard him say he wants a family in the future, something you didn’t know at all. Something that was making you melt and crumble in your stool.

You didn’t know what this meant. You didn’t know what anything of what he was saying meant but you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to hug him and kiss him and– Was his heart racing the way yours was? His stomach nervously hurting like yours was? The hairs on his arms standing on end like yours were?

“Eddie, you… You are promising something– something so fucking huge.” His smile fell a little, and he nodded, his eyes staring into yours as he talked.

“And you are the only one I trust enough to make this promise to.” You slowly shook your head at him, thinking this was insane, but– you wouldn’t mind it. Having Eddie’s baby? It didn’t sound entirely wrong. Maybe not even a little bit wrong. 

“You’re… insane.” You couldn’t help it as you let out a snort, and he nodded, a chuckle escaping him. 

“Maybe… so, deal, Peach?” His eyes were sincere as they looked at you, and you realized he meant every single word. He meant everything he said. Everything he promised. Maybe it won’t happen. Maybe he gets a girlfriend or maybe you find…��

“Deal.” You responded quickly, and he smiled widely, straightening up and putting his hand out for you to shake. You took a deep trembling breath in as you smiled and shook his hand.

“Nice doing business with you, fair lady.” You giggled and shook your head, your hand holding his. You inspected his knuckles with your fingers and you slowly raised it up to your lips. You didn’t watch his reaction, but you felt him fall in complete silence as he sat still in front of you. You finally let a tear roll down your cheek as you brush your lips against his knuckles.

“Thank you…” You softly whispered, and he leaned forward, your breathing cutting short when you felt him press his lips against your forehead. You could combust in the spot as you felt warmth invade you, your body flushing completely from head to toe.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart.” He pulled away and you let go of his hand, looking up at him.

“I’m also sorry… for my behavior… last night.” You were embarrassed as you spoke and he shook his head at you, letting you know he understood.

“It’s okay. You snapped out, which is what matters here.” You two stared at one another as he wiped the tear that fell from your eye and you just… wanted to kiss him. You wanted to hug him and hold him and… He cleared his throat as he turned towards his plate. “We should eat.” 

You nodded and turned to your plate as well, putting some egg on your toast and bringing it to your mouth. The toast wasn’t as crispy because it got cold now, as well as the eggs, but the taste was sublime, yet, you couldn’t not give him shit for it.

“Mmm… not bad.” Was your comment and Eddie turned to look at you as if he were the most offended person on the planet.

“You take that back and say they’re delicious. It’s not my fault they got cold!” You laughed at him as he kept telling you everything he did with the eggs, and everything felt so right. He wasn’t here to get lucky like all those other times. He wasn’t here because he felt like he had to. He wanted to. He wanted to be with you and cheer you up. 

And he did. You cleaned the dishes afterwards as he grabbed your erotica novels and started reciting paragraphs just to piss you off. You laughed as he made up the different voices, moaning when the book said it, or grunting stupidly, and you threw your wet right glove to his face. 

He gasped, rushing towards you so he could rub the glove on your face, making you squeal and try to push him away in disgust. You two laughed as the glove fell on the floor, his arms still holding you close to him. Your heart beat loudly in your chest as you breathed heavily, his face close to yours and you just… 

“I should go home…” He whispered, and you really wanted him to spend the day with you but you knew Robin was going to come to your house at lunch or even earlier, so you nodded slowly.

“Yeah… Robin might just… appear…” He gulped and your lip twitched as you felt your body burn wildly, and you wanted to kiss him. You needed to kiss him. Change the dynamic of your goodbyes, but what if he didn’t want that? What if you were reading all of this wrong? Were you?

But he beat you to it, his jaw clenching as he talked softly, his forehead pressing against yours.

“I don’t want anything… just…” You nodded desperately at him and he leaned forward to finally kiss you. It was soft, tender, and it made every single one of your worries leave your body. You didn’t know why he was kissing you, but you knew why you were kissing him back. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders to pull him closer as your lips smacked with one another’s.

He hummed in between the kiss and you felt his arms and hands holding you in a way you haven’t felt in a long while. You stayed like that for a few seconds before he begrudgingly pulled away, licking his lips as you looked at him, and you didn’t want to let him go, but you had to. 

“So… I’ll… see you later?” You asked, filled with hope, and he gave you a small smile, nodding slowly as he leaned to give you a soft peck on the lips, melting you on the spot.

“Yeah. I’ll message you later. Tell me if you need anything, okay?”

“You’ve done enough, Eddie…” He chuckled and shook his head at you.

“Okay, so I guess you won’t need my scrambled eggs anymore.” You gasped, shaking your head at him, and he smiled triumphantly. “Ah, so my eggs were, in fact, delicious.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, pulling away from him to flick him on the right nipple making him squeal and cover it. You saw him walk to your bedroom, and you probably didn’t even notice the pile of clothes he left on the floor or on the desk. You were just staring at his retreating back as you bit your bottom lip, wondering if you should ask him to just stay, to tell Robin to not worry and not come over but you knew that she would not have it. 

When he returned he was all dressed, feeling the keys in his pocket as well as his wallet and phone, making sure he had everything as you put the gloves to dry over the sink counter. You walked to the front door with him, opening the door as he looked at you with something that just told you it was right to do what you wanted to do. So you rose on your tippy toes to give him a peck on the lips to which he returned with another one.

“Bye Eddie… thank you again.” You couldn’t help but keep thanking him, and he took it, smiling down at you.

“Don’t mention it. Bye, Peach.” He walked out, and you waited for him to get to the elevator. He gave you a salute as he got inside and the doors closed before him. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in and closed your door, leaving you alone in your home once again. 

You rested against it, looking down at the floor as your heart beat to an incredible speed, your stomach filled with something you couldn’t deny were butterflies. Butterflies you have been feeling for a long while. Butterflies you faked by calling them nerves or anxiety or adrenaline whenever you saw him. 

He didn’t promise what he promised just because you were sad. He didn’t just make a promise in order to make you happy. He made a deal with you that felt true even if it’s years away and you don’t even know if Eddie Munson would still be in your life. But fuck, you hoped he did. You hoped he did and that you two would be in a different situation than you are right now.

Because you didn’t want to just hook up with him. It’s time you came to terms with that fact. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to spend time with him. You wanted to invite him to dinner, watch movies with you, play games, and you were hoping that this new change meant something to him as much as it meant to you. 

And suddenly the troubles from yesterday were nonexistent. The troubles from yesterday and the memories were not as painful as they had hurt you the day before. You knew it was thanks to him. You knew that Robin would not have possibly made you feel the way you are today, and that is mean to say, but he filled the dark hole that resided in your mind. He knew what you needed when you didn’t even know it yourself. 

You needed him. In more ways than one could possibly imagine. You don’t know how you will tackle the relationship now that you came to terms with this. You don’t know how you should act or what you should say to him. You don’t know how to tell him you don’t want him to see someone else. You don’t know how to tell him you want him all for yourself. You don’t know how to tell him all of that without giving yourself away.

Because you’re fucked.

Because you like him.

You like Eddie Munson. You really like Eddie Munson.

end of chapter 21

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[great-septimus]

Hey, so I don't want to be that guy, but when are we going to acknowledge that Akechi was right?

No, I obviously don't mean about the things he was very clearly wrong about. I'm referring to the things he says in interviews about the Phantom Thieves. I hate how many people switch up after playing through his betrayal who previously agreed with his views, because nothing he said is wrong and nothing he did changes that fact. He speaks in the TV Station on the objective facts that he should know about, and with or without the context of his form of justice those facts stay true. It's a fallacy to claim that his form of justice being universally less approved of makes the Phantom Thieves better by comparison, or discredits anything he said. I don't think the Phantom Thieves are evil, or that they should necessarily be imprisoned, but I do think that they are not morally sound. They're kids. Prior to his betrayal I think he served his purpose well, but it's easy to disregard the validity of his words when you find out that he's a murderer. With the knowledge he SHOULD have had (and that many DID have), everything he says is true. And honestly? It still can be true for basically the entire plot of the game. Mishima's confidant tests the thieves in that way. They could have changed the hearts of anyone who's not a persona user, for any personal reason. It's a slippery slope.

I'll use these three options as an example for why he's right:

"They're justice itself" is just subjective and incorrect, because justice as a concept is individualized and given how each Phantom Thief has different reasons for being one it's ridiculous for even them to say. Their first target was before they even formed a group, and Ann was ready to kill Kamoshida. The others were not even going to step in, and they were going to respect her choice either way. All the members are so different, so this is an insane claim to make.

"They're necessary" is wrong because to say they are necessary is pretty disingenuous to all "justice" that has ever happened BEFORE they existed. I don't believe that the Thieves were a necessity per say, and personally I think their actions can only be judged on a case by case basis. Some Mementos targets for example have issues that stem beyond what they have done. Now they have their desires stolen but still have the issue that pushed them to immortality in the first place, plus a shitton of guilty baggage. The Thieves only help with the atonement, but not the push. How many of those people didn't just go right back to their past behaviors? How many of them got worse in other ways? Think about Futaba, she felt so guilty for something she thought she did, she formed a palace to condemn herself to die alone. To claim the Thieves are necessary to reform society implies that their method is the most effective, and I think that's a lot to claim for something they don't understand.

"They do more than the cops" I almost agree with. Legally the police in Japan in this game anyway (yes I'm aware it extends to reality in many ways, but I'm referring to just the game right now) are corrupt and flawed for the most part, but the thing I don't agree with is that this makes the Thieves a better alternative. They're not. For the same reason Yoshizawa says later, the Thieves can only do so much as vigilantes, and to imply that society should rely on these faceless nameless flawed people to fix society is not any better than what they have now. Especially with the method being unknown, potentially unsafe, and easily exploitable. I cannot be the only one who if the Phantom Thieves were real, would be extremely alarmed by the prospect of a group of vigilantes "changing hearts" right? It's so vague, and the pattern is dystopian. At least police methods are familiar

What I'm saying is that they're kids, and it's kind of insane that this game places Akechi as the narrative foil for the Thieves in their message and then makes it so easy to disregard because "he's an assassin so how could he know anything about justice". The Thieves don't either, and Ann was nearly a murderer. If the bar is "don't commit murder when you're infiltrating someone's mind" then it's far too low. I wouldn't trust a group of adults with this power to reform society, even less a group of teenage vigilantes. I'm 19, and I find this odd. And Strikers frames them as even more righteous, and it bugs me even more in that game. At least Royal has the third semester to give a bit more nuance to how big of a responsibility Ren was given, but that's also very frequently misinterpreted.

I love this game, and I love this fandom, and I have thoughts that get weird and ranty. I apologize, but I hope you all found this as interesting as I did.

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part nine

Back on my bullshit of cranking these chapters out, so here's another one!

Warnings: Hotch being...kind?, oh no they're warming up to each other (kind of), just kidding they have their moments of arguing, dramaaaa

Hotch was in his early twenties when he first heard about The Strangler’s case. It made national news, after all, once a connection was established between the cases showing up in Georgia and California. Two opposite ends of the United States, and The Strangler struck in both for over a year — maybe longer, though it was never confirmed.

Hotch was still in law school, then. He remembers reading about the case, one of the first few times he had heard of the BAU. He never studied the case closely; he didn’t have the time. And, honestly, when it comes to the cases the BAU has handled over the years, Carson Adkins is not the strangest.

His is interesting to study because of how long he evaded the authorities. The women he strangled to death were not his only crimes. Numerous traffic violations, domestic disputes, mental distress calls, and even one illegal possession of a firearm littered his record in the midst of the strangulations. Yet none of those led to his capture like they should’ve. 

Truthfully, none of the murders across Georgia and California were solidly connected before he turned himself in — only because he wanted to find you.

Hotch understands, to some degree. If anything ever happened to Jack, he’d do everything in his power to find him and make it right again. That’s exactly what Richard Monroe did for Lila, too. 

What he can’t understand is why you wouldn’t disclose this to him. Him, of all people, your Unit Chief. Why couldn’t you tell him? Why did it have to come to this?

Hotch knew, deep down, that whatever was hidden in your file would have to be discussed once he found out what it was. He just wasn’t expecting it to be something like this. Something he has no idea how to go about bringing up to you.

Because it does have to be discussed. Whether you like it or not— whether Hotch likes it or not because he knows it will only start a fight, it has to be discussed. At least so some common ground can be reached. A heart-to-heart doesn’t need to happen, but he needs to be aware of where your head is.

But it can’t happen now, while you’re on this case. The women and their families are suffering here, and that’s the top priority: catching whoever is doing this.

Once the unsub is caught and you’re all back in Quantico, Hotch will bring it up. Not because he wants to, but because he has to. He has no choice.

+++ 

After the wine with Rossi, you sleep probably the best you’ve ever slept on a case. You even wake up before your alarm, giving you time to shower and get dressed, and head downstairs to snag some breakfast before it’s time to meet the rest of the team.

You expect to be the first person downstairs, but you’re not. Hotch is there. And he looks like he’s been there for hours.

“Well,” you pull the chair out across from him, dropping into it with a huff. You cross your arms over your chest, all while Hotch is scowling at you. “You look like shit.”

He doesn’t even grace you with an answer. 

You shrug your jacket off over the back of the chair, leaving him to go grab something to eat. You return with a muffin, fruit, and two coffees.

Hotch’s eyes snap to yours when you set the coffee down next to his half-empty one.

“You’re gonna need another one if you’re gonna get through today looking like that,” you answer, taking a sip of your own. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Hotch averts his eyes. “No.”

You watch him as he slowly chews the remaining bites of his fruit. “What’s wrong with you?”

His eyes flick back to yours, another glare settling in. “Nothing.”

“Okay,” you hold up your hands in surrender, unwrapping your muffin. “Just thought I’d ask.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he says. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine,” you shrug. “Why?”

“Just thought I’d ask.”

Now it’s your turn to glare. “Don’t hurt yourself,” you mock.

Slowly, the rest of the team filters downstairs to grab their own breakfast. You’re grateful for the extra company, especially Emily and JJ. You gladly leave the table with Hotch to join them at the next one over. 

You can feel Hotch watching you, and he only stops when Rossi sits down across from him, asking him the same things you’ve already asked him. His answers stay the same, though less defensive, of course.

You turn your back to him, helping Prentiss figure out where she should go for her next Sin to Win Weekend. Your vote is on Miami, but she’s leaning toward Vegas for this one.

It’s almost time to leave when Hotch’s phone rings, and all conversations halt. Bad news, most likely.

Hotch’s face gives nothing away, but you know it won’t. It’s not in his face. It’s in his shoulders, and they tense when he hears the news. You know exactly what he’s going to say before he says it.

“They’ve found another body,” he says as the call ends. “Let’s go.”

Chairs screech as everyone stands and heads for the exit. Morgan leads, no doubt going to drive like he always does. You’re just a few steps away from the table when you hear Hotch call out your name.

You turn, preparing for a small lecture about how you should behave today in the field, only to find he’s standing there with your jacket in his hands.

“You left this,” he says quietly, passing it to you as he catches up.

Huh. You must’ve forgotten to grab it when you switched tables. You fall into step beside him. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t reply as he walks ahead, getting in the driver’s seat of the other car. In your confusion about his behavior, you slide into the passenger seat of Morgan’s.

You don’t bother asking Morgan if he thinks something is up with Hotch too, but the last thing you want to hear right now is how you and Hotch are warming up to one another.

Because you’re not.

You’re not warming up to him. He looked like shit, so you pointed it out. He doesn’t normally look like Death beat the shit out of him for fun overnight. How could you not say something?

Who knows what’s up with him. It’s not your business anyway.

Morgan’s phone rings and he digs it out, pressing to his ear. “Yeah.”

You don’t know why he doesn’t put it on speaker, but you make eye contact with Reid in the rearview and shrug. 

“Alright, yeah,” Morgan says with a nod. “We’ll do that. Got it. Bye, Hotch.”

You figured it was him. “What’s up?”

“They’re going to the scene, he wants us to head to the precinct and call Garcia to see what she has,” Morgan explains, casting a quick glance at you. 

You don’t miss the glance. “What?”

“Nothin’,�� Morgan shrugs, turning toward the precinct while Hotch’s car goes straight ahead. “You two looked cozy this morning.”

You scoff. “Right.”

“It’s true,” Reid pipes up from the backseat.

“Hey!” You turn to look at him in pure betrayal. “Seriously?”

“What?” Reid looks just as perplexed.

You huff as you turn back around. “He was already downstairs when I got there, and I got there early. He looks like shit. Like he didn’t sleep.”

“He looked fine to me,” Reid says, having no idea he’s just put another nail in your coffin. 

Morgan grins.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

Morgan only raises one hand off the wheel. “I’m not.”

+++

If anyone asks, Hotch told you, Morgan, and Reid to go back to the precinct because it’s part of his usual divide-and-conquer method for cases. 

It has nothing to do with the fact that the officer sounded shaken up on the phone, meaning this one must be bad — and after researching more of Carson Adkins’ crimes last night, Hotch doesn’t want you anywhere near this one, not if it’s as bad as the officer made it seem on the phone.

You’re liable to shut down again and that’s not what he needs. He needs you focused.

The area is crawling with police cars as some officers try to corral a growing crowd of locals. To make matters worse, Hotch sees a news truck pull in behind them.

JJ spots it too with a deep sigh. “Got it. No comment.”

“Thank you,” Hotch replies with a nod.

Hotch, Prentiss, and Rossi flash their badges at the officers holding the perimeter before they’re let underneath the crime scene tape. The unsub left the body outside the elementary school. Next to the playground, for god’s sake.

They have to find him.

“Do we know who she is?” Rossi asks an officer.

“No,” he shakes his head. “But the coroner took her prints, so hopefully we’ll find her in a database somewhere.”

“Time of death?” Prentiss asks.

“Said somewhere between three and five a.m.”

Deputy Harris is standing off to the side, staring at the children’s swings and slides with a set jaw. Hotch makes his way over silently, noting the redness in the deputy’s eyes.

“We’re going to find who did this,” Hotch assures him quietly.

“We better,” Harris says, voice hoarse. “Who dumps a body at an elementary school? What if someone hadn’t found her before the kids got here? I—” He shakes his head. “School is canceled for the day, I called the board a minute ago. I don’t want any kids here.”

“Understandable,” Hotch nods, and probably for the better. They’ll need to investigate the area and it’s best if there are no children even inside the school to witness the commotion. “That was the right call, Deputy.”

“Thank you,” he says, turning to shake Hotch’s hand. “You’ll find him?”

Hotch accepts the handshake with an even firmer nod. “We will.”

He leaves him to return to where Prentiss is kneeling next to the body, studying the strangulation marks on her neck.

“It looks almost like hands and something else were used,” Prentiss says quietly. “Almost like…”

“Like he wasn’t strong enough to do it on his own this time,” Hotch finishes. “Like she fought back.”

Hotch finds the coroner talking with Rossi, waving them both over.

“Did you swab under her fingernails?” Hotch asks.

“Not yet, but I can at the lab,” the coroner replies. 

“What are you thinking?” Rossi asks.

“That she fought back,” Prentiss says, standing up and taking her gloves off. “There’s some bruising on her face as well, it looks to me like they got into it before he strangled her.”

“Alright, I’ll keep it in mind and I’ll call you when the results are ready,” the coroner says, turning to instruct his men to begin loading the body. “If her prints come up anywhere, they should be sent to you soon.”

“Thank you,” Hotch says to him, already digging his phone out of his pocket to call Morgan.

+++

When you get to the precinct and find out exactly where the unsub dropped this body, your heart plummets. 

You don’t know if it was your dad’s preference to drop bodies outside of schools. All you know is that he did it often. If it wasn’t train tracks or behind a gas station, it was outside a school.

You have no clue why. There never seemed to be any rhyme or reason to it, just like this one. The others have been on back roads, dirt roads, or in the woods. Never outside an elementary school, next to the playground, for fuck’s sake.

Pictures slowly filter in as the detectives upload them. You, Reid, and Morgan stare at the laptop screen, three pictures of the woman’s body, all zoomed in.

You take a walk to refill your coffee, ignoring the way your knees feel shaky as you move. 

You’re fine.

Just— First, a case where the daughter of a serial killer is kidnapped and her father willingly turns himself in to help find her, and now, a case where the unsub is strangling these women to death and dumps a body outside a school? You knew when you first got into this profession ten-odd years ago that you’d come across cases that bring up bad memories. It’s inevitable. You’ve long accepted the fact.

But two, back-to-back, with similarities that hit far too close to home… It’s putting a bad taste in your mouth, and you don’t know why.

It’s probably nothing.

It’s not like you can mention this to anyone. Maybe to Rossi, but you know what he’ll say. Either that you’re just feeling on edge with the similarities, or worse — he’ll tell you that you have to bring it up with Hotch.

And you are not doing that. Not over some irrational, sour taste in your mouth that you have no backing for. Reid said it himself, this isn’t a true copycat. It’s just another unsub who strangles women to death. Unfortunately, there are plenty of them out there.

It doesn’t mean anything. 

You return to the conference room with fresh coffee and a somewhat calmer head (fake it ‘til you make it, right?). Morgan gives you a questioning look, but you ignore him.

Garcia’s voice comes through the speaker of the laptop as she tells Reid she’s just waiting for the identity to come through from the fingerprints before she can start digging. 

Morgan’s phone starts ringing in his hand. This time he puts it on speaker. “What’ve you got, Hotch?”

“We think our unsub used something in addition to his hands this time,” Hotch says.

“The girl fought back,” Morgan replies absently, his eyes flicking over to the now-printed pictures from the scene. 

“What are you thinking?” you ask in general, sliding one of the photos over.

“Not sure yet,” Hotch says. “The coroner just loaded the body, so hopefully in a few hours we’ll have some answers.”

“He might’ve used a wire of some sort,” Reid starts to ramble. “It’s common for—”

But you don’t hear him, your fingertips tracing the bruises in the picture. “He used a belt,” you say without meaning to, pressing your fingers into the picture, as if you can feel her neck.

“A belt?” Hotch inquires. “What makes you so certain?”

“The bruises,” you say quietly. Morgan won’t stop looking at you.

“The bruises are too faint to tell,” Hotch says tiredly. “The coroner—”

“It was just an idea,” you snap, pushing the picture away and glaring at the phone, hoping Hotch can feel it through the device. “It’s not like I was there to see him do it.”

Everyone goes quiet. You ignore Morgan’s watchful gaze and turn toward the whiteboard, deciding to review the other information. 

Why did the unsub need help with this victim? Was he tired? Was he caught off guard? Was she stronger than the others he preyed on and he didn’t anticipate that?

You don’t hear the rest of Morgan and Hotch’s conversation as Morgan takes him off speaker after your little spat. Probably for the better.

You have got to come down from whatever edge you’re on before Hotch gets back here. You’re practically begging him to ask prying questions when you’re acting like this.

Thankfully, neither Morgan or Reid bother with asking if you’re okay.

Unfortunately, Rossi doesn’t get the same memo when he returns with everyone else.

“Anything standing out?” Rossi asks as he comes to stand next to you, facing the board. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, relaxed. 

Your arms are crossed over your chest. “No.”

He chuckles. “Wanna take a walk?”

“No,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes at the board. “Why did he need to use a bel— something to help him this time? What was different?”

Rossi shrugs. “Maybe she fought him and he wasn’t expecting it. Maybe he’s getting sloppy.”

You hum.

Rossi lowers his voice as he leans toward you. “You’re sure it was a belt?”

You remember being twelve years old, watching the same bruises form on your mother’s throat after your father had stormed out and took the belt with him. He didn’t kill her, no. Just came close. Would have if you hadn’t walked in.

“Yes,” you say back, just as quiet. “Only a belt bruises like that.”

Rossi nods slowly. You know he wants to mention that the bruises are too faint to fully tell. You know he wants to mention other things. But he won’t.

Just behind you, standing with his back facing the both of you, Hotch listens. You both lowered your voices, but not low enough. 

You have insight into this case that could be valuable, and you aren’t sharing, not with everyone. Only with Rossi. Why him?

Hotch isn’t jealous; he’s curious.

And he can’t do a damn thing about it, at least not right now.

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

He probably hates me x I love her so much

(part 3)

(teen nanami x teen reader fluff!)

Part 3 - the mission mishap

Previous part - the bakery incident

Last part -The confession that wasn't supposed to happen!

Nanami Kento liked order. He liked logic. He liked things that made sense.

You, unfortunately, made no sense at all.

Which was exactly why he was currently pacing outside the infirmary, jaw clenched, fists tight at his sides.

He told you not to rush in. He told you to wait. He told you to stick to the plan. But did you listen? No. Instead, you threw yourself into danger like you had something to prove, and now you were lying inside with a freshly bandaged wound while Shoko sighed over your recklessness.

And worst of all? You probably thought he was mad at you.

Which okay, fine. Maybe he was. But not in the way you assumed.

He wasn’t mad because you were reckless. He wasn’t mad because you messed up. He was mad because for one agonizing moment, he thought he was going to lose you.

And that? That was unacceptable.

The door creaked open, and you stepped out, rubbing your arm sheepishly. "Hey."

Nanami whirled around so fast you swore you saw his tie swing.

",you are an idiot."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"A reckless, thoughtless idiot," he continued, voice low but sharp. "Do you have any idea what could’ve happened if I hadn’t-" He exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Never mind. It doesn’t matter."

Your stomach twisted. You had been expecting some kind of lecture, but this? This was different.

"Nanami, I—"

"Just don’t do it again." His voice was quieter now, almost strained. "Please."

That made you pause.

You looked at him carefully the way his shoulders were tense, the way his fingers twitched at his sides, the way his brows were furrowed not in anger, but in something closer to… worry?

And suddenly, a thought crept in.

Maybe… maybe he didn’t hate you.

Maybe he cared

Two Hours Earlier

"Okay, seriously, what is with you?"

You wiped a cut on your cheek, frowning at Haibara as he walked beside you through the forest. The mission was done, the curse exorcised, and you were mostly fine. So why was Haibara grinning like he had just found out your most embarrassing secret?

"What?" you huffed.

Haibara snickered. "You really don’t get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

He whistled. "Man, you’re so lucky Nanami isn’t here right now. He’d be dying of secondhand embarrassment."

You crossed your arms, glaring. "Haibara, I swear—"

"He totally freaked out when you got hurt," Haibara said, cutting you off. "Like, full-on Nanami meltdown. It was kind of impressive, honestly."

You faltered. "What?"

"He carried you straight to Shoko the second you were down. Didn't even let the curse fully disappear first." Haibara leaned in conspiratorially. "And when Yaga asked what happened, he said ‘It was my fault. I should’ve protected her better.’ Like, dude that’s some next-level guilt for a guy who claims he doesn’t care."

Your breath hitched.

You remembered bits and pieces the rush of adrenaline, the sharp pain in your side, the feeling of someone’s arms around you before everything faded to black. But you had assumed it was just instinct. That Nanami would have done the same for anyone.

Right?

Right?

Haibara must have seen the confusion on your face because he rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. You really think he’d react like that if you were just another classmate?"

You opened your mouth to argue but no words came out.

Because, deep down, you already knew the answer.

Present

Nanami was still standing there, staring at the ground like he was this close to losing his mind.

You took a slow step forward. Then another.

"Nanami," you said carefully.

He stiffened. "What?"

You swallowed. "Why do you care so much?"

His head snapped up, eyes widening just slightly. He opened his mouth, hesitated then clenched his jaw. "Because you were reckless."

"That’s not an answer."

Nanami’s fingers twitched. His lips parted like he was about to say something something important. Something real.

But instead, he just shook his head. "Just be more careful next time," he muttered, turning away. "Please."

And then he walked off, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding in your ears.

You should have felt relieved. Happy, even. But instead, there was a different feeling creeping in.

Because Nanami Kento was lying.

And you were going to figure out why.

@cheriiepies @erenspersonalwh0re

[letmebeyourcrrsh]

the echo of his broken heart

idol!jeongin x reader

warnings: mention of hate, angst?

tell me if there is more-

genre: breakup

summary: you are dating the one and only maknae of stray kids. you two had been in a happy and healthy relationship for very long now.. until suddenly the internet was filled with pictures of you two…

You never thought you'd be here. Never thought the day would come when you'd have to walk away from him. The man who made your heart feel whole.

Jeongin was your secret—your calm in the chaos. You never wanted the world to know about your relationship. It was yours and his, tucked away in a quiet corner of the universe. The late-night phone calls, the stolen kisses when no one was looking, the soft promises to always be there for each other… That was enough. It was always enough.

But nothing stays hidden forever.

It was one photo. One innocent moment. You were both at a small café, tucked away in a quiet corner, laughing at something he had said. It was like any other day. However.. A fan saw. A fan snapped a picture, and from that moment, everything shattered.

At first, it was just curiosity.

“Is this real?” “Who are they?”

People wanted to know. But soon, the floodgates opened, and the hate followed.

They don`t deserve him. They’ll ruin his career. They’re just using him. They dont even look good next to him? ew. Bet they are only there for the money.

Jeongin tried to protect you at first, tried to deflect the hate, tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. But you saw the pain in his eyes. You heard the exhaustion in his voice when he called you late at night, asking how you were holding up.

It hurt him. And it hurt you.

The once peaceful love you had shared started to feel suffocating. You didn’t want to be a part of the world that was judging you, tearing apart your life for the mere crime of loving someone who happened to be famous. But you knew that as long as Jeongin was by your side, you could endure it.

But then came the threats.

They started slowly—comments on his posts, DMs flooding his inbox. It wasn’t just hate anymore. It was fear. The " fans " were relentless. They told him to end it with you before things got worse. They said if he cared about his career, he would choose them over you. They said you weren’t good enough for him, and that you would bring him down.

And then the worst part came.

The messages you received. The ones that told you to leave him. The ones that told you to disappear. They weren’t just cruel; they were dangerous. They said they knew where you lived. They said they knew everything about you.

Your life became a nightmare.

You wanted to fight back, to scream at them that they didn’t know you, that you weren’t some kind of villain. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t risk his safety. You couldn’t risk your own.

And in the quietest, darkest part of your heart, you knew what was coming. You knew this couldn’t go on.

It was the night after a particularly ugly comment had gone viral. Jeongin called you. His voice was low, almost robotic, as if he had rehearsed these words a thousand times in his head.

“Y/N, we need to talk.”

You already knew what he was going to say.

“I think... it’s best if we end this,” he said, his voice trembling slightly.

Your chest tightened. You had been expecting it. You had known it was coming. But hearing him say the words felt like a knife twisting in your heart.

“No,” you whispered. “Please, Jeongin. We can’t just let them win. We’ll figure this out. We can make it through.”

He was silent for a moment. And then, you heard the deep, painful exhale of a man who was already broken inside.

“I can’t do this anymore, Y/N. I can’t see you like this. You’re scared all the time. You’re hurting, and it’s because of me. You don’t deserve this. You deserve peace. You deserve a life that isn’t filled with hate and threats.”

Your tears began to fall silently, as if your heart knew the end was coming even before your mind could process it.

“Jeongin,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I don’t care about the hate. I care about you. You’re worth every bit of pain. I just want to be with you.”

He was crying now, and his voice was barely audible as he responded, “I love you so much, Y/N. I always will. But the truth is… I’m not enough to keep you safe. I can’t protect you from this. I can’t let you drown in a world that doesn’t care about you the way I do.”

Your world felt like it was crumbling. All of the love you shared, all the quiet moments, the dreams you had together—they were slipping through your fingers, and you couldn’t stop it.

“Please… don’t ask me to walk away,” you begged, your heart breaking with every word. “I can’t do this without you.”

But he was already shaking his head. “I’m so sorry. You’re everything to me, but I can’t be the reason you lose yourself.”

There was no more fight in him. No more hope in his eyes. Just sorrow. Just resignation.

And so, you did what you had to do. You said goodbye. The words felt empty as they left your lips. They were hollow, unable to fill the space between you two, because the truth was, neither of you wanted this. Neither of you wanted to let go.

“I’ll never forget you,” he whispered, his voice broken. “I promise.”

You wanted to say the same, but it was too much. The tears clouded your vision as you turned away, walking out of his life with the weight of everything you couldn’t change.

And as you walked away, all you could hear was the echo of his broken heart, calling your name in the distance.

[sai-int]

what do you think 141 men's sun signs would be? (phillip graves and keegan included, if you headcanon them as well)

what do you think?

okay, i don't know HOW you knew i'm an astrology nerd, but i am. i won't go too in depth about their entire charts, but i can definitely figure out some sun signs based on who they are on a surface level!!

⸝⸝ john

a bonafide taurus, through and through (twinsies!!!). dependable, grounded, and a natural leader. he’s EXTREMELY protective over his men, stubborn to a fault, and always (tries to) keep a level head. he enjoys life’s finer things (like a good cigar and whiskey), but he’s also pragmatic and values stability. definitely the type to be patient, but once he’s pushed too far? unmovable.

⸝⸝ simon

a scorpio. intense, mysterious, and deeply private, embodies everything about this water sign. he keeps his emotions locked away, but when he loves, he does it with his whole soul (johnny). he’s the type to hold a grudge for life and operates in extremes, either you have his loyalty, or you don’t. his sense of humor is dark and dry, plus he thrives in the shadows.

⸝⸝ johnny

he's a tough one to call!! but i've settled on saggitarius. he's all firecracker energy, optimistic, adventurous, and constantly trying to beat someone up, shoot someone, or blow something up. he's a fucking dems expert. sagittarius fits him like a glove. PLUS, he’s got that infectious, chaotic charm and can talk his way out of (or into) anything. he doesn’t like being tied down, but when he’s dedicated to something, he gives it his all. the kind of guy who jokes to lighten the mood even in the worst situations, i mean come on. did you see him in las almas?

⸝⸝ kyle

LIBRA LIBRA LIBRA LIBRA. i have a libra rising so i feel so in touch with his sense of justice. for me personally, nothing enrages me more than seeing something just blatantly wrong. i mean think about the first modern warfare. man wanted to get his hands DIRTY for the greater good, or whatever. he felt it necessary in order to balance the scales, and libra's allllll about scales. he's also the mediator of the group, quick-witted, and socially adaptable. he knows how to navigate tense situations and keeps a cool head. libras are also deeply loyal to their people, and gaz would go to hell and back for his team. also he's fucking HOT, libra's ruled by venus.

⸝⸝ graves

a textbook leo and i'm not hearing anything else. charismatic, confident, and so good at making people believe in him. he carries himself like he’s the main character and knows how to command attention. but there’s that classic leo downside too, pride. his downfall is his ego, his need to be in control. he thrives in leadership positions and loves to be admired, but when his authority is challenged? that’s when the claws come out (e. g. "you've got about five seconds before i show you the difference between military, and me.")

⸝⸝ keegan

SUCH a capricorn and you cannot tell me otherwise. hes that no-nonsense, disciplined, get-shit-done type, which screams capricorn. he’s serious, hardworking, and has that quiet intensity that makes people take him seriously. capricorns are known for their sarcasm and dry humor, and keegan definitely embodies that. he’s also fiercely loyal. once you earn his trust, he’ll go to war for you.

⸝⸝ könig

a fun one to pin down. i’m torn between virgo and cancer, but i’m leaning more toward virgo.

he’s meticulous, observant, and highly analytical, classic virgo traits. virgos are often perfectionists, which fits with könig’s overthinking and anxiety. he strategizes everything, calculates risks, and probably notices details no one else does. he’s reserved but has a deeply anxious side, especially in social situations, which aligns with the more introverted nature of virgos. my sister's a virgo and has some ocd problems, but by god, there's a method to her madness and when she gets shit done, it's done well. virgos are also dangerous when they’ve had enough. they hold in a lot, but when they snap? it’s brutal.

[tangerineastronaut]

Hi! I saw you take requests.

May I request something with GOT7 Jackson Wang and best friend!reader, in which the reader starts developing feelings for him and start thinking he’s the one for her? <3

Friends, Just for Now | Jackson Wang (Part 1)

The one where your best friend can't keep his secret anymore (and you're oblivious).

Pairing: Jackson Wang (GOT7) x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, BestFriend!Reader, idiots to lovers Requested: Yes w.c. 6.6k (oops) Warnings: Cheating (not between jackson and reader), lots of profanity, nicknames, namecalling, minor injury, reader wouldn't know love if it smacked her in the head, holy shit they're kind of annoying af A/N: this was so fun to write, love me a good idiots friends to lovers. I'm also cheesy af, feel free to call me out. Please excuse any errors there may be, I usually proofread after posting. ❣️The love I received on my yunho imagine has literally made me do happy dances, I haven't posted anything on tumblr in 8 years and you guys are just literally the best. I love you all so much! Requests: Open (link below)

Part 2 is on its way!

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

🎧 FRI(END)S by V

“Come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen. You never listen.”

Two things went through your mind, though you refused to lift your head from where it was tucked against your knees. 

One, you hated that nickname. Pie. He thought it was so cute, and it probably would’ve died off had you not reacted to it the way you did. One missed smear of cherry on your nose 3 years ago and suddenly you’ve been christened. It was his favorite story to tell. 

And two, Jackson Wang was going to get his shit rocked if he didn’t leave you alone. 

“Fuck off,” you say bitterly, pulling further into yourself.

He was right. He had warned you.

You’d hoped Leejin was different, that the rumors were just exaggerated. Surely he didn’t cheat on every girlfriend…right?

“Wrong,” Jackson had laughed. “He’s a fucking dog, y/n.”

You’d rolled your eyes, and then Jackson said three words to you that had kind of hurt. Not kind of. A lot. They’d hurt a lot. 

“You’re not special.”

Leejin was so nice, he was smart and funny and headed for a successful career with his family’s business (so what if his parents probably paid off the school to make sure those student conduct violations never stuck). You wanted to be special. Spent 4 months trying to be. It wasn't an eternity, but you tended to put your whole heart into everything, and it almost always ended up like this.

But Jackson’s words rang true, painfully so, when you received a text from an unknown number earlier today—screenshots of messages between Leejin and some girl, including explicit photos. The unnamed person had said nothing else; you wondered if it was the girl from the screenshots, but you didn’t reply. You simply texted Leejin to go fuck himself before blocking him on everything, running straight home to your apartment, praying that Jackson wasn’t there. He was, of course, as you split the rent. You hated the look on his face when you barged in, nose red and snotty from crying.

It wasn’t smug, it was just…"come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen." 

You heard him sigh now, no doubt running a hand through his hair. It was blonde; you’d made fun of him at the time he'd dyed it though begrudgingly had to admit it suited him. But he was going to be bald before he was 40 if he didn’t stop tugging at it when he was stressed.

“Hey. Hey, stop. I hate it when you cry, you know, makes my joints hurt or something,” he says, kneeling beside you.

The fuck…? What does that even—

But you were too upset to stop, so he muttered under his breath, poking at your head until you whipped it up to slap him away. He looked like such a boy, hugging his knees and giving you a pleading look. Fine. Bastard.

You sighed and uncurled yourself, your knees screaming from the pain of turning into a human rollie pollie for the last half hour. Jackson sighed as well, no doubt relieved that you weren’t ugly crying anymore. 

He waited until your sniffles were a few minutes apart before moving, sitting criss cross on the floor. His brown eyes were soft, a rarity, truly, though you knew he was already formulating ways to tease you about this when it was more irritating than painful. 

“Done?” he asks, more to comfort himself than you. You sniff and nod, wiping your nose on your sleeve. Well, his sleeve. He made a face, realizing that you were wearing one of his sweatshirts, but made the apparent decision to yell at you later. 

“Don’t be mean to me,” you mumble, resting your cheek on your knee. 

“When am I ever?”

“Jackson, I swear to fucking—”

“I didn’t say anything, pie.”

“If you don’t drop that god damned nickname, it was one time, one little bit of cherry filling, I don’t even like cherry pie, you’re so fucking annoying—”

It was his turn to interrupt, but he didn’t. He just watched you, an irritating twinkle of amusement in his eyes. You scoffed and tucked your face away again, wishing he’d stop looking at you like that. Or at all, really. If there was one thing you’d learned after being friends with him for so long…the asshat had some eyes on him. Had this way of using his gaze to set the mood, able to stop your arguments or rile you up with micro expressions like an olympic gold medalist of manipulation. 

“Want some ramen?” he asks, tilting his head as though speaking to a kicked dog. You crinkle your nose without looking at him. “Want some cake? Some candy?”

“I want you to leave me alone,” you grumble. 

“Want a bath?”

You sigh, refusing to humor him with an answer he already had. He snapped his fingers like he’d just solved the equation of the century, having the audacity to ruffle your hair as he stepped over you unnecessarily to get to the door. You could hear him down the hall, the sound of the bathroom cabinets opening and closing, the water running, hopefully set on hot like you liked. 

“You're out of bath bombs,” he called. You frown. 

“I’m not, they’re under the sink.”

“Why’d you move them? Next to your menstrual equipment, eww.”

That’s why. You felt sorry for whatever unfortunate woman Jackson decided to wife up—the man was addicted to hot baths and cotton candy bath bombs. You’d have to move them again though, now that he knew about your stash. Besides, you’d sent him to the shop more than a few times when you were cramping and out of pads (and chocolate); he would not be impeded by them.

Jackson was waiting for you by the time you dragged yourself to the small shared bathroom. He bowed dramatically, gesturing toward the tub which was steaming hot, as you liked—a meal’s gotta cook. 

You mumble a thank you as he walks past, though he pauses in the doorway, eyes narrowed.

“Get naked, and give me my damn sweatshirt,” he says, pointing accusingly at you. You pout, immediately clutching your pearls.

“Is that why you never get laid? Jesus, would’ve thought you were smoother than that,” you huff. He impatiently tugs at your sleeve, rolling his eyes in that sassy way that always made you giggle and made him more irritated—a win win scenario. 

“It’s a $30 shirt, not a snot rag…pie.”

“You’re a snot rag,” you mumble. You turn your back to him, crossing your arms at the hem and tugging it over your head. You were still in a bra thankfully, though still covered your chest as you tossed the material at him. 

Jackson caught it smoothly, though he wasn’t even looking at the sweatshirt. You didn’t realize he was looking at you until you reached for the button of your jeans. His eyes weren’t lower than your lips, but he looked a little…off. You expected a joke about a food baby or maybe how pale you’ve gotten, but he says nothing. 

“Hello?” you say, shaking your head. “Is that all? Want my pants too? Gonna do my laundry for a change?”

Jackson blinks like his brain finally returned to his skull. He bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head and backing out of the doorway. Before he closed the door, however, his eyes leveled with yours, so intense it made your breath catch in your throat. Was he mad? Over a sweatshirt?

“Leejin is a fucking idiot,” he says before turning on his heel and heading down the hall. 

You stare at the spot where he stood, even after he’s gone. The hell was his problem now?

By the time you’ve finished your glorious bath, you waltz into the living room like a princess. Jackson looks up from his place on the sofa, deadpanning and tossing his phone on the coffee table as he takes in the freshly purloined hoodie you're sporting.

“Gonna lock my closet,” he says, shaking his head. You beam at him, cutely crinkling your nose as you pad to the kitchen. You tug open the fridge, thinking maybe you could cook something simple for the two of you. It was kind of late to make anything grand, but you wanted more than ramen. 

The empty shelves make your eye twitch. 

“Seriously?” you huff, gesturing around. “Would it kill you to get groceries once?”

“You always complain when I do,” Jackson shrugs, flicking through netflix with the remote. “Got the wrong brand, got too many, didn’t get enough—”

“I always text you a detailed list, but whatever,” you grumble, low enough that it doesn’t provoke a response. “Since you’re a big man baby incapable of buying groceries, you can buy us something at the convenience store.”

“I am perfectly capable, thank you,” Jackson says, narrowing his eyes. 

“Of what? Weaponized incompetence? I agree, get dressed,” you hum. 

Ten minutes later, you’re walking side by side down to the convenience store. The apartment’s location was perfect—five minutes from campus one way, five to a 24 hour convenience store another. Perfect because you both had a habit of wanting to come home when you were drunk after a party, starved and craving foods that you’d regret the next day. 

The doors chimed a welcome as they slid open, allowing you inside. You made a beeline for the sweets, Jackson went straight for the energy drinks. 

You perused the aisle for a few minutes, making your choice and going to find your roommate. You rounded the corner and froze. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to block someone in real life. So while you’d never see Leejin’s social media posts, it didn’t mean that you wouldn’t run into him on a saturday night at the convenience store near your apartment. 

You feel a mix of emotions—anger, shame, disbelief among them. You knew it wasn’t impossible, it wasn’t even unlikely, as this store was one of only a few. But it felt so damn unfair that he’d happen to be here, hours after you found out about what he’d done. 

“Is that all you’re getting?” Jackson snorts, frowning as he eyes your bag of chips. But he notices your stillness, following your gaze to see Leejin, casually chatting on the phone as he looks at the protein bars.

You expect him to snort, maybe make a comment just loud enough for the other to hear before pulling you away, but Jackson surges forward so quickly he nearly knocks you over. You grab his arm, both to steady him and stop him from…whatever the hell he’s doing. 

“Where are you going?” you whisper, tugging him back with as much strength as you could muster. 

“He broke your heart and I’m gonna break his fucking face.”

He moves again, this time dragging you along on the linoleum floor. Fortunately, Leejin is too preoccupied with his call to notice. The thought makes your stomach twist, briefly wondering who he’s talking to. 

“You’re gonna get us kicked out, what’s the matter with you?” you hiss, trying to shake sense into him. Jackson yanks his arm away from you, dropping the energy drinks on the nearest shelf before storming off. You stare after him, mouth agape in disbelief. 

You arrive home 15 minutes later, having hid near the bathrooms until Leejin had left. You’d bought (and paid for, irritatingly) your snacks and Jackson’s drinks, but when you shove into the apartment, it’s empty. Lights off, no sign of him. You worry for a few seconds—had he waited for you and bumped into Leejin instead? But you surely would’ve heard something outside. You opt to text him and choose to believe he’s being broody and walking through the streets like a sad music video.

> what the fuck? is your deal? Where are you??

You’re confused and groggy when someone taps at your cheek, not realizing you’d even fallen asleep on the couch. You rub at your eyes, squinting, processing the sight of Jackson standing over you, t-shirt stuck to his form, beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks. 

You’ve had weird dreams about him before, ones that you’d rather never speak of again, and they usually start out like this. But this Jackson rolls his eyes in a way that sweet, sweet dream Jackson would never. 

“Get up, jesus. Your back is going to hurt,” he says. You slowly sit up, realizing he’s right. Apparently not only had you fallen asleep on the couch,  but you’d fallen asleep sitting up, sleeping in an unnatural slouched position. 

“Ow…”

“Told you.”

“No it’s…hey,” you snap, waking up a bit more now that you  remember that you’re actually pissed at him. “It’s your fucking fault, what happened to you? You just disappeared! I was worried!” 

You’re surprised to see Jackson bristle. He’s not shaken easily, least of all by you, but he glances to the side and tugs at his t-shirt, separating it from his damp skin. 

“Went to the gym. Figured I should cool off,” he says. You want to be pissed at him more, say something else, but your back hurts and you’re sleepy. Plus, you’re glad to see he’s alright. Mostly.

“Whatever,” you finally grumble, trying to stretch out your neck. “What time is it?”

“Dunno, around 2 a.m.,” he replies casually. “I’m gonna shower.”

“Great,” you huff. “You go shower. I’ll go roll over and die happy now that I know you’re alive.”

You stumble down the hall to your room, sighing at the sight of your unmade bed. What was the point if you were going to mess it up anyway? You hear Jackson follow shortly after, the bathroom door opening and closing. The shower starts, and you shuffle beneath the covers. 

You wake up not long after, whining in protest as you’re jostled. 

“It’s me,” Jackson says, rudely pushing you over. “Scoot.”

You wanted to shove him away, to point out that “scoot” should be said before you rob someone of their bed, but you can’t be bothered. Besides, once he settles next to you, you realize that he’s not wearing a shirt and he smells nice and clean. 

Sleepy, groggy, annoyed, relieved, you curl against him like a bunny seeking warmth. You feel him stiffen, though you think little of it. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, not sounding the least bit tired. You couldn’t say the same for yourself, unable to open your eyes as you reply. 

“Mm. ‘s warm down here. Night night.”

You hear him sigh, then shuffle, and then he’s rolled over to face you, offering a human-made cocoon that you happily burrow into. He’s soft and warm and smells like his manly body wash—and your shampoo, damn it. 

“Goodnight, y/n,” he says, soft enough to count but not enough for you to notice. 

Waking up tangled with Jackson was, unfortunately (?), not all that unusual. When you were upset, you found your way to his bed, and despite his protests you knew he didn't actually mind. It went both ways—you'll die before you admit that you like it, if only because he's a human heater.

You still feel groggy, squinting and fumbling around for your phone. Such a task is difficult when there's deadweight slung over your waist, but you manage, bringing the device to your face.

10:43 a.m.

Oh good. You slept 8 hours—and half the day away, to your brain at least. You toss your phone down, debating whether or not you should just go back to sleep. You choose instead to roll over, addressing the sleeping shirtless man keeping you pinned to your bed.

Your camera roll was filled with photos just like this, because Jackson slept like a baby. Literally. Hands curled into fists, face relaxed, head tilted to the side. His blonde hair is mussed from sleeping with it wet last night, and you dodn't hesitate to run your fingers through it for no reason at all. It was soft and surprisingly thick, but you weren't about to dial back on the baldness theory.

Jackson stirred, though didn't wake up, shifting to lie on his back. Freed from your restraints, you sat up and had to cover your mouth to stifle a laugh.

Of course the curtains parted like that, of course he was sleeping like a prince now, sunlight arcing off of his jaw—it even highlighted his stubble in an annoyingly poetic way. What kind of gods were kind enough to give him of all people that face?

He really was kinda...pretty.

No, not kinda. Jackson Wang was beautiful. You were his best friend, but you weren't blind. Maybe you'd become a little numb to his charms, but you'd seen what he could do to people with just a look, even without malicious intent. He was charismatic on top of that, though you were the only one who got to see the side of him that wasn't.

The side that stole your shampoo and commandeered your bed, anyway.

So fine, you knew he was pretty. But he was kinda sorta extra pretty right now, and maybe you wanted to remember it later.

You shifted to grab your phone—a never-ending quest for material to bully each other over—but the movement apparently jostled him awake. You sheepishly smiled as he blinked a few times, using the heel of his palm to rub the blurriness away.

"Really?" he asked, voice rough, eyes leveling to the phone in your hand. "Fucking creep."

"You have like a thousand pictures of me sleeping," you point out, narrowing your eyes. Jackson nods, rolling over and hugging your waist, his head resting against your hip.

"That I do—you're cute when you drool all over yourself. I'm working on a collage."

"Asshole," you mutter, prying his arms off of you. You make an attempt to escape, but as expected, you're smoothly hauled back down.

"Where you going?"

"I need to pee, wanna come with?"

"It's early."

"It's almost 11."

"Yeah, early."

Jackson grunts before you can reply, practically placing you in a chokehold as he rolls over. You have no choice but to go with him, ending up flopped over his chest like a dead fish.

He says nothing for a moment, and you wonder if he's fallen back asleep. It's not difficult to squirm out of his grasp this time, though rather than allowing you to slide off, the apparently-awake-Jackson moves both hands to your hips.

Your stomach does that funny thing it sometimes does around him, like a little alarm that says 'hey! getting too close!' Listening to this alarm had prevented a lot of mistakes over the course of your friendship, mistakes like wanting to kiss him when you were tipsy, noticing the way he looked after a long workout, hair plastered to his forehead, the fuzziness you felt that time your heating pad broke, and his warm hands wound up on the lower half of your tummy to stave off the cramps.

Mistakes like that.

His eyes open again, and you do your best to look irritated.

"I'm sorry about last night," he says, suddenly unnaturally serious. "I was just trying to cool off, and my phone died, so I didn't see your text until after I got home."

You're not really sure how to respond—it was always strange when conversations got like this between you, regardless of the topic. It was so jarring, so far from the usual cracked out nonsense. You decided to nod, then shake your head, then nod again.

Jackson was a badass, most people knew as much. He was trained in martial arts and practically ate protein for every meal. But despite this, he wasn't typically an aggressive guy. You'd only ever seen him throw one punch—an ex of yours a couple years ago who threatened to post a nude photo of you. Needless to say, the guy deleted them, made difficult thanks to the blood smearing his screen as it dripped from his nose.

"It's fine, I get it," you say. "Just...why were you so mad at him? Did he do something to you?"

Jackson blinks up at you, shifting so that he's partially sitting up on his elbows.

"I told you, y/n," he says, shaking his head like you're an idiot. "He broke your heart, I was gonna break his face. You should've let me get one hit in at least."

"He didn't break my heart," you groan, rolling your eyes. "It wasn't that serious, you know that. We'd only been dating for 4 months."

"...I watched you cry for an hour because someone stepped on a worm—"

"—that's different. It's literally a living little creature, what if that's someone's girlfriend, hm? What if she asked her boyfriend 'would you still love me if I was a worm' and he said yes except now they can't live wormily ever after because she's smushed all because some horrible person can't be bothered to step aside for a worm?"

Jackson stared up at you, blinking slowly, looking 175% done with your shit.

"What the fuck is wormily ever after?"

You sigh, leaning forward until your head is on his bare shoulder. You have half a mind to bite him, though you resist. You will be civil—for now.

"I don't know," you mumble. "No early birds, no hot sidewalks?"

"I....you're so fucking weird."

"Lots of guys are dickheads, but you were ready to knock him out. Really, Jackson, was that all? Promise he didn't say something to you?" you ask, voice muffled against his warm skin. Just one lil munch. It'd be good payback for him scaring the hell out of you last night.

Jackson exhales, and there's suddenly a hand tugging at your tangled mess of bedhead until you're sitting up, looking down at him.

"I wanted to kick his ass for the same reason that I never bring anyone home," he says quietly. His eyes are serious, no sparkle of humor in them, and it makes your stomach twist. You didn't like it when Jackson got serious.

"What? Because of me?" you ask. "I don't care who you fuck as long as I don't have to cook them breakfast."

Mostly true—you were afraid of walking out of your bedroom one morning and running into a really pretty girl, someone with perfect grades and clear skin, who has the audacity to be beautiful and nice. Someone only Jackson deserves. But you leave that bit out and give him a half teasing smile.

Jackson doesn't return it. He grunts, moving his hand up to tug at his hair. You slip yours beneath his, mumbling for him to stop doing that.

"You really don't?" he finally asks, swallowing hard enough that you see his throat move.

"Don't what?"

"You don't care who I fuck?"

His question catches you off guard, though not as much as the fact that he still looks dead serious. This seems like something the two of you should be laughing over—not something to talk about whilst you're currently straddling your best friend in your bed, who happens to be naked from the waist up.

"I mean...no?" you say, shaking your head in confusion. "Should I?"

"I don't know, should you?"

Should you? What the hell was that supposed to mean? You didn't like riddles, and this felt like one. You'd tried to stay out of his business over the four years you've been friends, though come to think of it...you'd never met any of his girlfriends after the first six months. You'd assumed he was so busy with classes and his extracurriculars that there just wasn't much time for anything past shallow hookups.

But...you couldn't remember a single time that had occurred. He was home every night, never brought company over for that purpose.

"Jackson," you say quietly, palms resting on his chest. When the hell did he get so muscular? There was a noticable firmness beneath your fingers, and you briefly considered billing Leejin for your services in making sure he didn't get the shit beat out of him. "I feel like this is an inside joke and I'm out of the loop. You're upset? Why?"

"Why would I be?" he counters, irritatingly smooth. The hands on your hips squeeze once, like he's trying to talk to you in morse code. It's annoying.

"Quit," you mumble, biting your lower lip. "I'm trying. Stop being mean and just tell me."

He sighs, moving a hand to his face.

"If you don't already know, then it doesn't matter, alright?"

"Wh—"

You're cut off as he suddenly shifts from beneath you, leaving you tumbling to the sheets when he stands. Just like the last two times for some damn reason, he prepares to storm out of the room.

"Jackson, wait—shit."

You trip over the edge of your nightstand, catching yourself on your hands. Your lamp tumbles to the floor, thankfully not shattering on the carpet. Still, the ache brings tears to your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you sit down.

"How many times have I told you to push that against the wall!?" Jackson says, rushing over to you. You lean back against your bed, grimacing as you look at your knee. It's not the worst scrape you've ever gotten, but it is bleeding, and it burns.

"Hang on, pie." He leaves the room, and by the time he returns with the pack of bandaids and peroxide, you're covering your face with one hand and hugging your knee with the other.

"Hey, it's not so bad," he says, obviously in partial panic mode as he kneels in front of you and tugs at your ankle. He probably thought that's why you were in tears, but it was moreso the fact that he was being...just...weird, and you didn't like it.

You quietly sit there, hands over your eyes as he uses a cotton ball to dab at the blood. You don't even flinch, it doesn't burn—perks of having an MMA star for a roommate; he knew how to bandage a cut (a common occurence for your clumsy ass, unfortunately).

After a few minutes, he pats the side of your calf, and you finally uncover your eyes. There's a bandaid over the scrape now, and you let your knee fall to the side. Jackson is looking at you, and you nod.

"That's good, thanks," you mumble quietly.

"You sure?" he asks. You frown, nodding quickly. But his hand moves up to your cheek, cupping it as his thumb swipes below your eye.

Tears.

That alarm goes off inside of you, but Jackson doesn't move his hand, so you let it sit there and you feel your stomach tying itself into a knot. You're a little worried it's not gonna come undone.

"I wasn't crying because of that," you say, swallowing as you glance away shamefully. "I...I don't like this, Jackson. Feels weird. If I did something to make you mad, I wish you'd just tell me—"

"I'm not mad at you," he replies. You sniff, and finally his hand slips away, though only to rest on your uninjured knee. His fingers twitch, like he wants to do something but won't let himself. Slap you, maybe, for never listening to him and always ending up hurt because of it. You would, if you were him.

"You keep running away from me," you point out, a little surge of anger from last night returning. "You keep acting like I'm supposed to know everything you're thinking, and I don't, because you won't tell me stuff. I tell you stuff, the least you could do is text me a grocery list of what the fuck is going on inside of your brain, so I'm not sitting here thinking I'm gonna lose my best friend and roommate over something I don't even know that I've done. I'm sorry we ran into Leejin, it's not like I knew he was gonna be there. I'm sorry for thinking I was special in the first place and ending up where you said I'd be."

Jackson sighs and tilts his head, and you hate yourself for crying more. It wasn't a big deal, things were a little crazy after yesterday. You didn't even love Leejin, it had just...hurt? Your pride? No one wants to know they're less than a second choice. But Jackson had acted like Leejin was out for his blood, and every time he runs away, it feels like he's escaping you.

"You're not gonna lose me," he finally says, glancing down at the floor. "I just...I've got a lot of shit to work through, you know? It's not...it's not your fault though."

"Like what?" you ask, worry lining your brow. "If you'd just—is it money? Because we can figure out rent—"

"It's not money," he interrupts. "I promise, it's nothing like that."

"Then what?" You huff, a little more irritated than concerned. "Parents? Grades? Girl trouble?"

"Yeah," he nods, licking his lips. "That last bit."

"Girl trouble?" you ask, somewhat surprised. For some reason, the fact that he hadn't told you about a girl bothered you more than the idea that there was one at all. You shared everything with him; if he'd kept her a secret, it had to have been a little more serious.

"Do I know her?" you ask tentatively. Please say no, I don't want to go through a list of the hottest girls I know.

"Yeah," he replies. Fuck.

"Oh. How long have you been dating?"

"We're not."

"Then...?"

"She's an idiot."

"It's a mystery as to why you're single, really," you say, rolling your eyes. "So she's an idiot because she won't date you? Sounds kind of shallow on your end."

"She's an idiot because she keeps dating jackasses who don't give a shit about her. I don't give a damn if she ever chooses me or not," he says plainly. You frown.

"Maybe she's insecure?"

"She is. Very."

"Huh. Is she pretty?"

"Beautiful."

"Oh. Hm."

Well what the fuck were you supposed to say to that? Congratulations? Sorrows, sorrows, prayers?

"Okay..." you say after a beat. You were not good with advice, especially when it came to love, obviously. He didn't say love though. Infatuation, maybe. Still, you were not an expert. "So if she keeps dating jackasses and won't date you, why do you bother? Why not just forget about her?"

Jackson's eye twitches. You don't notice.

"Hard to forget someone you see every day, pie," he says. You scoff.

"Okay, I'm calling bullshit. I'm literally the only person you see every day."

"Mhm."

"Then you're lying?" you ask. Jackson deadpans.

"Please, for the love of god, never reproduce."

"Rude," you mutter. "Fine, so I know her, she's insecure, pretty, dates assholes, you allegedly see her everyday?"

"All of the above," he says. You frown, lips pursing as you rack your brain for answers, going through the hot insecure girls you know like a filing cabinet.

Wait.

Your eyes widen. Jackson's do the same, and then he smiles, like he's proud of you.

"Oh my god, is it Kim Sujin?" You ask, covering your mouth. "The girl with the—"

"Jesus fucking christ, y/n," he groans, running a hand through his hair. "Are you...you're fucking with me? That's what this is. You're not this dumb, right? Please say no. I feel like I'm in middle school right now, holy shit."

You open your mouth to argue, to insist he was being unfair (you didn't even like puzzles!) but he suddenly leans forward, palms cupping both of your cheeks. He pulls you toward him, nose inches from yours. You've been this close to him before, but you're suddenly dizzy now, a little out of it as you wonder if this is really happening to you—or if this is another sweaty-jackson-standing-over-me dream. Jackson, who has freckles on the tip of his nose and won't stop looking at you like that, the knot pulling tighter and tighter.

"Stop thinking before you hurt yourself. 'm gonna kiss you now, is that okay?" he asks.

Is that oka—?

"Kiss?" you mumble, swallowed up by those god damn pretty brown eyes. Jackson nods, head tilted, primed to kiss the cluelessness out of you, apparently. "Y-yeah, that's fine."

"It's gonna be...it's gonna be a lot, okay? Like not just a peck. You're fine with that?"

"Yep," you nod.

Jackson nods back. And then he kisses you.

He doesn't release your face, squishing your body between himself and the bed behind you. His lips press to yours, insistent and warm, though you can tell he's being cautious—if you wanted to push him away, you could. But you did not want to do that.

Because Jackson Wang was kissing you, and he's a really good kisser.

You briefly forget that you have hands, so when you remember, you waste no time in using them. One cups his jaw, feeling the edge of it press into your palm. The other fists his blonde hair, tugging it gently.

Jackson groans into your mouth, and that alarm in your belly turns into a fucking war drum. You feel the knot tighten and snap, and suddenly you're pushing him back, scrambling into his lap.

You kind of want more, kind of want to put your tongue in his mouth because he's warm and tastes good and you can only imagine how much better it would be, but he beats you to it. His tongue swipes over your lower lip and you eagerly open for him. He breathes in as soon as you do, and it feels like he's stealing your soul. Fuck it? He can have it?

It's messy, a tad bit desperate, definitely not the poetic kiss of rom coms, but you don't give a shit. It feels good, feels warm and right, like you've been kissing him in your head every day for the past 4 years.

By the time you manage to separate, you're trembling an embarassing amount. You'd blame the buzz on coffee if you'd had any, but you just hide your flushed cheeks and rest your forehead against his shoulder. You can tell that for once, Jackson's brain seems to also have short circuited, as it takes him a minute before he finally wraps his arms around you. You can hear his breath—as shaky as yours, thank god.

"Was that okay? Was it weird? Did I make you uncomfortable?" he asks, tilting back on one palm to look at you, his other arm secured around your waist. You sit up, shamelessly biting your lower lip, refusing to meet his eyes. He mistakes this for discomfort, all but shoving you out of his lap, hands flying to his hair.

"Fuck, I...I shouldn't have...I didn't mean to. I wasn't gonna...I'm so fucking sorry y/n, if you want me to move out—"

"You're gonna go bald," you mumble, a little blitzed out as you rest on your hands.

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. Stop freaking out, okay?" you offer, finally looking up at him. God he looks...scared. Hair messy, brown eyes wide. So unlike his usual cocky self that you're a little shaken, caught between wanting to protect him and wanting to kiss him again.

"I didn't make you uncomfortable, did I?" he asks softly. That alarm is now everywhere, setting off in your chest at his concerned tone. You shake your head.

"No. I'm okay," you reassure him. "A little irritated."

Jackson's head snaps up, worry on his face. You feel guilty, so you quickly clarify.

"You said I'm not special," you say quietly, looking away. "If you were talking about me just now...why did you tell me that?"

He looks confused, like he can't remember (of all the things he's said to bully you—while you kept a detailed record). But he seems to finally recall the conversation, rubbing his forehead as his lips spread into a smile.

"What's funny?" you puff.

"I meant to him, pie. You're not special to him. Not that you weren't special at all, or to...to me," he explains, looking part amused and part shy. You soften a bit, unable to help but pout.

"Then you should say that!" you say, gesturing at nothing. "You can't just go around telling people they aren't special."

"I don't make you feel special?" he asks, dipping his head to meet your eyes.

Well, yes, but that's not the point. You choose not to reply.

Just like most things when it comes to you, however, he already knows the answer. He looks a little too proud of himself as he reaches for your wrist, pulling you back into him. You're not quite in his lap, but you lean heavily against his side, your chin resting against his chest.

"What if we mess it up?" you ask, looking up at him. He frowns, not understanding. "Us. What if...what if we mess us up?"

"I don't see how we would," he laughs. "We're practically married."

"Gross. We are not."

"We split the bills, pie."

"Most roommates do."

"We cook together."

"Most roommates do."

"My mother loves you."

"Your mother loves everyone."

"Not true. And my father loves you."

You pause, then squint.

"Your father has good taste," you say. Jackson rolls his eyes. He looks a little conflicted, like he can't decide what's too much, what's too soon.

"I do," he says quietly.

You hate that, for once in your life, you know exactly what he's saying without him saying it. And god damn it, you feel your eyes burning.

"Don't...ugh," you whine, looking away from him. But he's not having it, taking your chin and tilting your face up. You're faced with glassy eyes that make you want to die.

You hated it when he cried. Maybe you make his joints hurt or whatever, but you've only seen Jackson cry twice, once when his family dog died, and another when he was drunk and had convinced himself you weren't his friend anymore. Both times, you'd never felt so helpless. The way you feel now.

"Y/n, I—"

"Please don't," you breathe quickly, swallowing down your tears. You immediately panic at the look on his face, like you've slapped him. But you tuck your hair behind your ear and shake your head.

"No, I-I mean, I know you do, and I...I'm pretty sure I do too. I just...I can't say it now, alright?" you explain. "I'm sorry, I just—you know me better than anyone. I don't...don't wanna fuck it up, you know? I don't wanna lose you, I'm so bad, so stupid when it comes to this—"

"Hey, hey, shh..." Jackson says, gently shaking your chin. "I'm not upset, okay? Just relieved, a little scared. I don't want to fuck this up either, yeah? I want...I want what we are today and I want it tomorrow, even if that means we stay just like this."

His thumb brushes your lower lip. God, you want to kiss him again.

"No rush, pie, okay? I'll wait for you, even if..." he sucks in air and looks away, as though the idea hurts to even consider. "...even if it's never for us."

You want to kiss him again. Would that even be appropriate? After what you just said? After the emotions threatening to disrupt the foundation of your life for the past four years?

"Can...can I kiss you again?" he asks softly. You swallow and nod.

"Please."

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Stand By Me (Part 3)

You knew it was coming.

Your mother wasn’t the type to let things go. The silence—the control she was losing over you—was like a lit fuse, and you knew it was only a matter of time before it blew.

Marshall knew it, too.

He never said it outright, but he stayed a little closer, held you a little longer, kept his phone on him more than usual, like he was waiting for the moment she finally snapped.

And when she did?

It was worse than you ever could have imagined.

---

It happened on a Sunday.

You had just started to feel okay again—just started to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could move forward without the weight of your mother’s words dragging you down.

Then your phone rang.

You stared at the screen, dread settling heavy in your gut.

Mom calling.

You almost let it go to voicemail. But something told you that if you didn’t pick up, she wouldn’t stop. That she’d just keep calling, keep finding ways to push herself back into your life.

So you answered.

And from the second you said hello, it was a mistake.

“Oh, so you do still know how to pick up the phone,” she snapped. No greeting. No warmth.

You swallowed. “Mom—”

“No, don’t start,” she cut you off. “I have sat here for weeks wondering what the hell I did to deserve this. You ignoring me? Treating me like I’m some kind of villain?”

Your grip on the phone tightened. “Mom, I’m not—”

“Shut up!” she screamed, her voice cracking through the line.

You flinched.

Marshall, who had been in the kitchen, immediately looked up, his expression hardening.

“I gave you everything!” your mother raged. “And this is how you repay me? By cutting me off? By choosing him over your own family?”

Your heart pounded. “This isn’t about Marshall—”

“Bullshit! He did this to you! He poisoned you against me!”

Marshall was watching now, his entire body tense, his fists clenched. He couldn’t hear her words, but he didn’t need to. He could see the way they were hitting you like knives, the way you were curling in on yourself.

And that was enough.

Before you could stop him, he was next to you, pressing the speaker button.

“If you got somethin’ to say about me,” he said, his voice calm but deadly, “say it to my face.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

“You piece of shit,” your mother spat. “You ruined her. You took her from me.”

Marshall scoffed. “Nah, lady. You did that all on your own.”

Her breath hitched. “How dare you—”

“I dare ’cause someone had to tell you the truth,” he cut her off. “You don’t get to treat her like garbage and still expect her to come runnin’ back. You don’t get to guilt her into keepin’ you in her life.”

You swallowed hard, gripping Marshall’s hand like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“You know what your problem is?” Marshall continued. “You thought you could break her down so much that she’d never leave. But guess what? She did. And she ain’t comin’ back.”

The line was so quiet you almost thought she had hung up.

Then, in a low, venomous voice, she hissed, “She will. When you get tired of her. When you finally throw her away like you do with everyone else.”

Marshall’s jaw clenched, his entire body going rigid. You could feel the anger radiating off of him, the way his breathing deepened.

But before he could say anything, you spoke.

“No,” you said softly, but firmly. “He won’t.”

Your mother let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, honey, wake up. He’s Eminem. He’s not built to love anyone. He’s just playing house with you until he gets bored.”

You felt Marshall flinch beside you.

And maybe, once, you would have believed her. Maybe, once, her words would have sent you spiraling, had you questioning everything.

But not anymore.

Not after everything he had done to prove otherwise.

“He loves me,” you said simply. “And he treats me better than you ever have.”

Your mother sucked in a breath, like you had physically struck her.

And for the first time, you felt free.

She could rage, she could insult you, she could twist the knife all she wanted—but she couldn’t control you anymore.

You had made your choice.

And it wasn’t her.

“Don’t call me again,” you said, voice steady. Then, without waiting for a response, you ended the call.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Marshall was still staring at the phone, like he half-expected it to ring again.

You let out a shaky breath, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

“You okay?” His voice was rough, edged with anger he hadn’t been able to unleash.

You exhaled, dropping your hands. “Yeah.” And then, quieter, “I think I really am.”

He studied you for a long moment, like he was making sure you weren’t just saying that. Then, finally, he sighed and pulled you into his arms, holding you so tight it knocked the breath out of you.

“I got you,” he murmured. “Always.”

And you believed him.

For the first time, you really, truly believed him.

[stardustrebels]

More of You- Chapter 8

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

WC: 2.3k Rating: 18+ for eventual smut, MDNI Series Masterlist | Blog Masterlist Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tags: No outbreak!AU. Coffee shop meet-cute with a slow-ish burn. Sickly sweet fluff, some angst and eventual smut. Joel is 42, reader is mid 30s. Sarah is 19. No use of Y/N, minimal descriptions of reader. She has hair long enough to tie back, wears skirts and dresses, blushes and wears makeup.

A/N: Soft, sweet, domesticated girl dad Joel is my favourite type of Joel. This chapter gave me the warm fuzzies, and was so much fun to write, despite life really getting in the way while I was trying to write it. I hope you enjoy!

You’d barely made it through the door that day when your phone had buzzed; Joel making sure you made it home okay. You texted on and off that first day, insides swooping whenever his name popped up on the screen, biting your lip to keep from grinning too hard. 

The smile that filled his face the next morning when he saw you waiting for him outside Harrison’s made your stomach flip. He greeted you with a low “hey, darlin’”, and a gentle touch to your arm before he opened the door for you to walk through. When you suggested taking your coffees to go for a walk, he agreed on the condition that you let him pay for them. 

You caught a glimpse of a photo of a little girl pasted inside his wallet. She looked no older than seven, little face grinning from the middle of a mass of wild curls, clutching the stick of a huge toffee apple between mittens shaped like cats. 

“Cute kid,” you said with a smile, pointing to the photo. Joel glanced down at his wallet and smiled back at you. 

“My daughter, Sarah,” he said. Your surprise must have shown on your face- a sheepish look crossed his features and he snapped his wallet shut and shoved it in to his pocket. 

“She’s nineteen now. Off at college, all grown up.” 

“Oh wow,” you countered, tilting your head and eyeing him curiously. It suddenly struck you that you had no idea how old he was. “You must have had her pretty young?” 

Joel nodded, plucking both coffees from the counter and handing you one. 

When you were back out on the street you both fell in to step together. You thought for a moment that he would change the subject. It would have been easy now that you were outside, but after a sip of coffee and a deep exhale he cleared his throat. 

“I was pretty young when Sarah was born,” he said, fingers tapping against the side of his cup. “Too young to really know what the hell I was doing. Her mom and I… We, um.” He glanced to the sky, as if asking for help from the almighty to explain. He paused and eventually settled on “it’s just been me and Sarah since she was eight.”

You made a ‘hm’ sound and nodded, waiting to see if he would offer up any further information, but he didn’t. You hadn’t expected him to share something so personal so soon, and it seemed like he hadn’t expected it either. 

Since she was eight. You let the words settle between you. Joel had been a single dad for eleven years. That meant eleven years of school runs, birthday parties, scraped knees and tantrums. It meant being the only one to check under the bed for monsters, being the only one she came to when she was sad or scared or angry, late nights when she was sick and there was no one else to take turns with to care for her. Eleven years of making every single decision, and being the one she relied on completely for everything. 

You tilted your head to study him, and fully understood the reason behind the underlying exhaustion on his face for the first time. It was the kind of tired that never really went away, the kind that came from years of putting someone else first. On top of all of that, he looked worried. Worried that now he’d admitted his past, you’d reject anything to do with him because of it. You were surprised, but it wasn’t in a bad way. Something deep in your chest ached for him, but he didn’t seem like the kind of man who would want your pity. 

“What’s she studying?” You said casually, before taking a sip of coffee. 

“Huh?” 

“Sarah,” you clarified, “at college. What’s she studying?”

Relief changed Joel’s whole demeanour in an instant; he lifted his head and straightened his shoulders. The way his face lit up was so endearing.

He told you all about Sarah’s sports scholarship in Dallas, that she wants to be a physiotherapist, has been dead-set on it since she was little, that she knew she couldn’t play soccer forever, but still wanted to be around it. How hard she worked to get in to college, how he’d made sure that she never missed a soccer game no matter how busy or tired they’d been over the years. You grinned while you watched him talk about her, about how proud he was of her, and how he’d supported her through the years. Your chest swelled at how simply he said it, like there wasn’t even an alternative in his mind. 

You beamed at him, “It sounds like you’re a great dad, Joel. Sarah’s really lucky.” 

He shrugged, trying to hide a blush. “I’m the lucky one, she’s a great kid.” He looked down at the lid of his cup, fingers dancing around the edge of the plastic. “I miss her.” He admitted after a beat. 

If this man got any sweeter, you were going to scream. 

Joel cleared his throat and changed the subject, asking how your work was going and whether you’d caught up after your time away. He didn’t offer up any more information about Sarah’s mom, and you didn’t ask.

You’d been talking about music as you wandered for the last half hour, and it turned out you had very similar tastes. Every time one of you mentioned a favourite artist or album, the other would light up in recognition, unearthing little snippets of common ground. Joel told you all about the guitars he planned to build when he had some free time, the kind of wood he liked to use, the care that went in to shaping the body just right, the satisfaction of stringing it for the first time and hearing it sing. It made you wish you’d stuck with music a little longer, if only to understand that feeling. You told him all about the failed music lessons you’d taken as a kid, and your trial-and-error approach to creative pursuits through the years until you’d found one that really spoke to you. 

The conversation kept flowing as naturally as it had from the start as you dipped between little stories from your lives, getting to know one another in the best way. You’d both agreed to do a loop of the park before heading back; your coffee was long gone but it seemed that neither of you were keen to part ways. 

By the time you walked through the park gates, you were walking so closely together that your fingers kept brushing against his. Each time it happened it felt as though sparks were jolting up your arm. 

You figured you could easily close the last little space between you and slip your hand into his. The thought crossed your mind more than once and your fingers twitched with the want to try. But you didn’t. Because that would mean acknowledging that you were drawn to this man whether you wanted to be or not. 

And then Joel’s pinky curled around yours. Hesitantly, like he was feeling the same pull and trying to meet you halfway. Your stomach swooped as you glanced down at where your fingers were joined and let out a tiny, surprised huff. 

Maybe, just this time, you could accept something sweet and not overthink it. So you did. 

Slowly, you turned your hand and laced your fingers properly with his. His skin was calloused but warm, and his hold was gentle, as though giving you the opportunity to pull away. You tightened your grip and glanced up at him, watching his expression shift from surprise to something soft, filled with fondness. He exhaled, a little shaky as you both fell in to step again. 

“I was wonderin’,” he started, his thumb tracing idle strokes over your knuckles. “Whether you’d want to go out sometime?” 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you said, covering your sudden breathlessness with a laugh, “We could maybe even go somewhere that isn’t a coffee shop.” 

Joel looked down at you and chuckled. “I ‘spose we could,” he said, squeezing your hand playfully. “How about I take you out to dinner?” 

You grinned and squeezed his back. “Dinner sounds great.”

He nodded, looking relieved, although he hesitated for a beat, as if weighing his next words. 

“And, uh, I got these tickets,” he said, glancing over at you, “to a gallery openin’ down town. Wondered if you’d wanna go with me?” 

Your brows lifted in surprise. “A gallery opening?” 

Joel nodded, “Yeah. My firm worked on the place, so they sent me an invitation. Figured it might be somethin’ you’d like.” 

It was such a thoughtful gesture it made your knees weak. 

“I really would like that.” you said, trying to hold back your excitement. 

You used the fountain in the park as your turning point for heading back the way you’d come and you revelled in the fact that Joel seemed like he was letting himself relax a little into this - into you. 

“So, when is this big fancy gallery opening?” You asked, 

“Friday night,” he said, tilting his head and squinting over, “that work for you?” 

You hummed in the affirmative and he said he’d send you a photo of the invite once he got to the office, so you had all the details. 

“I should tell you, I don’t know a ton about art,” he said, nudging his shoulder gently against yours, “I just helped make sure the walls ain’t gonna fall down. You’ll have to help me pretend that I know what I’m talkin’ about.” 

“Oh that’s easy,” you said with a grin, “I learned this at college. All you have to do is stand in front of any painting and nod like you’re having a deep, intellectual experience.” 

Joel smirked. “Yeah? Show me.” 

You dropped his hand and turned dramatically toward an imaginary painting, narrowing your eyes at the hedge by the path, and tilted your head to the side. Then, forcing the smile from your face you nodded and gestured in to thin air before you turned back to him and murmured, “fascinating use of negative space.” 

Joel let out a laugh that made your chest tighten in the best way. 

“Damn,” he said, shooting you a crooked grin, “That’s real good. I’d believe you were an expert.” 

You smirked back at him. “Stick with me, Miller. By the end of the night, people will think you are too.”

Joel exhaled a chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Guess I picked the right date, then.” 

Your stomach did a giddy flip at the word date. 

“Guess you did,” you murmured, letting your fingers lace with his again. 

You finally reached the corner where your paths had to diverge. It was quiet now, the chaos of rush hour had long passed. Joel waved away your concern that he was going to be so late to the office and claimed that there had to be some perks to being the boss. 

When you reluctantly dropped your hand from his, his fingers lingered, ghosting over your palm. A small shiver ran up your spine, and Joel must have noticed because the corner of his mouth quirked up just slightly. He gently pulled you closer, and you let him.

“This okay?” He murmured. 

You barely heard the words over the thump of your heartbeat in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathed.

He hesitated a second longer, his thumb grazing the delicate skin of your wrist. And then, finally, he closed the last of the space between you. 

His lips brushed yours, featherlight at first, careful. Like he expected you to pull away. But the second you leaned in, pressing just the slightest bit closer, he melted in to you with a sigh. His hand left yours and moved to cup your cheek. Your fingers curled into the collar of his jacket, pulling him even closer as you kissed him back, a small moan escaping your throat before you could stop it. Joel moved his other hand to the small of your back, pressing you against him with splayed fingers in a way that made your head spin. A deep groan rumbled in his chest when you swiped your tongue experimentally over his, and you felt his fingers press in to your jaw, urging your mouth open to kiss you deeper. 

He pulled away suddenly, breath uneven and warm against your cheek, matching the rhythm of your own. His nose grazed down yours and he sighed deeply. 

“We should probably stop before I decide I ain’t actually goin’ to work today.” He murmured, eyes glinting as he smiled at you. 

You let out a small laugh, cheeks warm, smoothing his jacket down affectionately. He brushed his thumb against your back a couple of times before letting you go. The absence of his touch after the last hour felt foreign to you now. 

You let your hand linger on his chest and pecked a kiss to the top of the scruff on Joel’s jaw. He closed his eyes, and an almost pained expression flickered across his face when you stepped away from him. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You asked, suddenly nervous. 

He cleared his throat and his fingers twitched at his sides, as if resisting the urge to pull you to him again. 

“I sure hope so.” He said, his voice low and rough. 

You nodded, knowing if you didn’t leave soon, you wouldn’t want to at all. “Have a good day, handsome,” you murmured, tilting your head with a smile. 

He took a breath and looked at you like you’d hung the moon. 

“You too, darlin’.” 

As you walked away from him, you decided that Joel Miller calling you ‘darlin’ was your new favourite sound in the whole world. 

Next Chapter

[uncannydevotion]

So I was going through this account and your old account (loved you and your writing since foreverr), and I kind of saw how Liu/Sully are characterized as overprotective (I don’t know if that’s the proper term or if I’m even reading the character right lmao), but like…lowkey what would happen if theres a relationship and they become too suffocating and the s/o tries to break it off? Would they crash out? 😭 (in a possible yandere way?)

squeezing you affectionately i wasnt gonna write today i really wasnt but but but this got sent in and i just. here. here. take this.

warnings: written in one sitting and not proofread, yandere content, unhealthy relationships, dependency, stalking, overprotective behavior, behavior that can be considered obsessive, sully points a gun at you im sorry, implied kidnapping.

wc: 1.4k words.

Liu wasn't a bad guy.

You knew this intimately. Liu was far from a horrible guy. From the moment you met him, he was nothing but kind and understanding. He has his flaws, sure, but so does every other person. And those flaws never took away from how... nice he was.

It was easy falling in love with him, really. He never tried forcing anything on you, he always listened, he remembered everything you told him, even things that most people would consider minor. Honestly, you were shocked to learn that he wasn't already dating someone.

And Sully... well, he's not as nice as Liu.

It took you time to get used to him when he introduced himself to you. Unlike Liu, Sully didn't seem to really... care about people. He was selfish, and was the type to just do things without thinking much about how it could harm others. He never actively tried hurting others, but he never cared if he did either.

So when you found yourself falling in love with Sully as well, it left you feeling a bit... guilty, to be honest. Not only because Sully was... well... Sully, but also because you were already in love with Liu, so isn't it weird being in love with someone else too? But it didn't feel wrong loving them both.

To be honest, when you did start dating them, nothing changed. Liu was as kind as ever, if not a bit more openly affectionate, and Sully was still pretty mean at times, but he was less mean when you were around so... you'll take what you can get.

But it was perfect. You, and your two boyfriends in one body.

When Liu started becoming protective, you hadn't thought much of it. He'd freak out a bit over some small injuries you'd get. Small burns when you'd cook, the occasional time you'd trip over yourself and hit the ground. It was cute, honestly.

You understood that due to his past, he was deeply terrified of losing people. It's a fear of his that you tried your best to help him through, and it wasn't one that you ever thought could get out of hand.

Sure, Sully wouldn't sometimes stare at you for a few moments too long before sighing and saying something like, 'We should just lock you up.' but... he's always had a weird sense of humor, so you never let it get to you.

But... the longer you dated them, the more... suffocating they'd started to become. With Liu, if you were out and didn't update him on your wellbeing every few hours, he'd call you until you answered. He used to not stay the night all that often, but now he insists on staying with you every night, to ensure your safety.

If you went out with friends, he'd basically interrogate you about them. Who are they? Where do they work? How did you meet? Would you trust them to keep you safe? How do you know you can trust them?

And Sully wasn't any better. He would basically stalk you whenever you went out, and he wasn't shy about it either. Whenever you'd try talking to him about it, he'd just shrug and say something along the lines of, 'I'm just making sure you don't die.'

You're fairly certain he's even gone through your phone a few times, but you never brought it up because you didn't want to accuse him, either of them, of something if they didn't do it.

It hurt you to even have this conversation with them, but enough was enough.

"We should break up."

The words sounded wrong, but you refused to swallow them. Your heart was racing and you felt sick but you knew this was for the best. They were far too protective, and Liu seemed unhealthily dependent on you at times. Like he'd simply stop functioning if you disappeared. He needed help, help that you can't give him.

There's an expression of confusion, followed quickly by something akin to anguish when he registers your words. Liu seemed to struggle to speak for a moment, lips opening and closing for a few moments before he finally manages a small, "Why?"

And you explained it to him. You told him about how his protective behavior was starting to feel suffocating, how your friends were starting to distance themselves from you because he (of which you can only assume to be Sully) always glares at them whenever they're around, how your privacy felt nonexistent most days with them around.

It almost seemed as if he was going to accept that this was happening, but then there was a shift. His expression smoothed out for a moment before he looked at you like you were the crazy one here.

"No."

And it didn't take a genius for you to realize you were speaking with Sully now, from the way he seemed completely apathetic to your concerns.

"No? You can't just say no to someone breaking up with you, that's not how this works."

But your words didn't seem to reach him. That, or he was just choosing to ignore him because he just sweetly smiles in such a way that it makes your blood run cold, "I said no, angel." And his usual affectionate name for you sounding mocking rather than loving, something that put you on edge.

In the time that you've known Sully, you've never felt in danger around him. He went out of his way to make you feel comfortable, honestly, but now... now, you're reminded that this man wouldn't hesitate to kill another. What's stopping him from killing you?

"...You should leave. Now, please."

But Sully didn't move. He just stared, and it felt like he was looking right into your very soul, and it made you feel really sick.

"Fine, if you aren't going to leave, then I will," You huff, but you couldn't even stand up before he was pushing you back down on the couch, practically straddling you, and you could feel cool metal pressing against your forehead.

He... he just pulled a fucking gun on you. A mixture of shock and betrayal outweighs any fear you felt as you look up at Sully, half expecting him to just shoot you.

But he'd never do that, no.

Sully would never hurt you. Could never hurt you. He just needs you to behave, that's all.

"Don't look so distraught," He coos, his free hand coming up to lovingly cup your cheek and wipe away tears you hadn't realized were falling, "You know I can't let you leave. Liu needs you," He pauses, a look of consideration before he softly admits, "I need you."

The admission would've been romantic. He'd never really verbally expressed his love for you before, but now it just... it makes you feel wrong.

"We can just consider this a lover's quarrel, yeah? Make up and move on,"

It didn't seem like Sully had any plans on listening to a single word from your mouth unless it's something he wanted to hear, but you shake your head nonetheless, "I don't want to 'make up and move on'. You're aiming a fucking gun at me for crying out loud! How can I possibly move on from that?!"

And he rolls his eyes at your words, as if you were being dramatic over something you had every right to be angry about. It almost seemed as if he wanted to say something, but his gaze unfocused, and when he blinked, that annoyance was gone.

Instead, he looked mortified, lowering the gun against your head.

And for a moment, you felt a flicker of hope. If you can't convince Sully to let you leave, then surely you can convince Liu, right?

But he didn't pull the gun away. He wasn't aiming it at you, but it was there, and that told you everything you needed to know. Liu wasn't going to let you leave either.

"I'm sorry," He whispers over and over again, and there's tears in his eyes as he rests his forehead against your shoulder. As if forcing you to stay with him was painful to him.

And maybe it was, but...

This world is simply far too dangerous. How is he supposed to keep you safe when you want to go out all the time? It's... it's for the best, he thinks, to take you away. Somewhere where no one can find you, that way you'll be safe. The thought makes Liu sick, guilt eating at him, but... nothing can take you from him.

He and Sully will keep you safe, always. Even if you hate them for it.