#so i was like 'do you have dogs. i want them'

[inkskinned]

i keep thinking about how rfk said that autistic people "will never write a poem." i keep thinking about that, about if humanity is calculated on the back of old verse. how far we measure personhood is in baseball and stanza breaks.

i keep thinking - i have over 7k poems on here alone. language can be a special interest, after all. did you know the word autism comes almost direct from the greek word autos, meaning "self"? self-ism.

maybe he is right - i haven't really played baseball. i was a ballet dancer instead. and besides - my sister once accidentally hit me in the face with an aluminum bat. i'm not sure if the injury gives me half points. am i only a person in the dugout? hand in a mitt? swinging?

does softball count? does cricket? am i a person if i throw the ball to my dog. am i a person as long as the ball is in the air, or do i stop being a person as it rolls into the bushes. i took my girlfriend to fenway recently; was i a person in the sun, with my hands up, with the game laid out at my feet in a diamond. i felt like a person, but that was back in the summer, and i often feel my most person-like then.

am i more of a person because of the sheer number of things i've written? does quality matter, or is it quantity? i used to write entire books every summer in high school - i wasn't doing well. i felt the least like-a-person back then. but then - does any person feel human in high school?

in the library, ink on my skin, i feel personhood shutter at the edges of myself. actually, writing feels blissfully like not being myself. it feels birdlike; escaping into creation so my body dissolves and i survive only by muscle memory. i am not there, i am writing.

but who can deny the falconlike focus of warsan shire, the tenderness of mary oliver, the sheer skill of amanda gorman. those are poets. they are certainly human. you could line them up with the way their words have influenced us and measure their literary shadows like wings.

perhaps it was very assumptive of me to want to be a poet rather than "a [ label ] poet." i wanted the work to fill itself in, rather than be stained by what i am. i do not write in despite of my neurodivergence, i am just neurodivergent and writing.

does the poem have to be in english or can i send it through my palms into the coat of my dog. does the poem have to make sense. does the poem have to love you back.

if i break a glass, will the poem appear naturally? or is the act of breaking the glass human-enough. the shards of my life glittering out beneath me - do i have to write the poem, or is it self-evident in the pile of glass splinters? i cannot grasp this world the way other people can. regardless, i endeavor to touch - even the mess - very gently.

i broke my toenail against my coffee table recently. i released a bug outdoors. i made coffee. i walked my dog.

i didn't write a poem about any of these things.

something else, then. existing without humanity.

[matchingbatbites]

Loosely inspired by this idea by @scoops-aboy86 but AU where you have a soulmark of an animal that represents your soulmate. People can have multiples, depending on if it's a romantic, platonic, or familial soulmate, and Steve is one of the lucky ones that has all three.

He doesn't know why they're crows, of all things (won't learn until later that it's because all three of his soulmates like shiny things and love to heckle him, lovingly of course). They hop around on his skin, sitting across his collar bones like a power line, nesting down in the shell of his ear.

The unique thing about the soulmarks, is the first time you touch your soulmate, your animals swap. It's only temporary, with them swapping again at the second touch, but it's a way to signify when you've found your match.

He realizes that Dustin is one of his matches during the season 2 mess, when he grabs Dustin to pull him from danger and later finds a fancy bird nesting with his crows. It has an orange face and a green body, and is incredibly vain. When he swaps back Dustin shows him the other one - this time yellow with a peach face and blue tail - and tells Steve that they're love birds. Steve thinks it's fitting, not just for himself, but for Suzie as well.

Robin happens during the Russians. Their hands brush where they're tied behind them and next thing Steve knows there's a fish swimming across his thigh, his crows hopping along after it, and he swears to do everything he can to get her out safely. It's not until the bathroom confession that he learns she's his platonic match, and he won't lie, he feels a little sad as he watches his betta swim up to another fish.

"A pinktail triggerfish," Robin explains, "They're protective and dangerous."

Steve smiles as he holds Robin's hand. "Can't wait to meet the girl that represents."

His swap with Eddie happens at the boat house, but Steve doesn't even realize it until after he's back home for the night and changing. There's a golden retriever bounding across his chest, chasing after the crows that are- playing with it. They're flying around it and egging it on, and he only worries a little until later, when he finds the dog sprawled out, relaxed even as the crows tug on its ears. It makes him happy to see the patience and joy the dog exudes, clearly at home with his birds.

They're walking through the upside down when Eddie holds out a hand and gives a hesitant "I uh, think this is yours." On the back of his hand is Steve's crow, and Steve smiles at the sight of it.

"Yeah, it is," Steve says. He brushes their hands together and the animals swap again. Steve watches as a different dog - a rottweiler, maybe - bounds up to the retriever on Eddie's hand and the dogs start to tussle playfully. He glances at his own hand to find his crows tumbling over each other, happy to be reunited.

"So, Jeff is my platonic, if you, uh-" Eddie starts, but Steve knows there's more important things to worry about right now. Even though all Steve wants is to know if Eddie wants Steve the way he wants Eddie.

"After," he cuts in as he takes Eddie's hand, the smallest relief he can offer right now. "We can talk after."

[secretlysimpash]

If you took one of the boys home, and you had a big ol' dog, I think that...

John would do the thing where instead of petting the dog, he just lovingly pats it's side..."The dad pat". And he's definitely sharing whatever he eats with the dog, too (as long as it's safe for the dog, ofc...he wants to spoil the dog, not make it sick).

Kyle would be on his best behavior with the dog...Until you're not looking. As soon as you leave those two alone, he riles the dog up. You'll be on an important call when there's just a cacophony of barking, play-growling, and stomping from a few rooms over.

Since Johnny doesn't like dogs all that much, he would try to stick close to your side...Or wherever the dog will leave him alone. But alas, the dog definitely decides that he's their new best friend, father, playmate, and everything else that involves Soap being as close as possible. Wherever the Scot goes, the big puppy isn't far behind.

Simon is on the opposite end of the spectrum when compared to Johnny. Simon LOVES dogs, and he comes prepared. Every time Simon comes through your door, expect a gift for you...And one for the dog. Suddenly your dog has a skull bandana to match Ghost, and looks almost disappointed when you come home without him sometimes.

The Shadows already have some German Shepard's and Belgian Malinois on the team...So when Phillip sees that you have a dog that's bigger than the ones he's used to working with, he's excited. Phillip is high-energy, your dog has a lot of pent up energy...Take them to the park, and just watch them both run, play frisbee, fetch...They could do this for hours. And when you get home and the dog is sound asleep, Phillip will still have enough energy for you.

König would IMMEDIATELY try picking the dog up like a baby. As soon as he knows the dog won't try to rip his face off, he just scoops it up into his arms. Half as a show of strength ("Look, Schatzi...They weigh nothing to me!"), and half because I can't help but see him as an animal lover. And if you're watching a movie, or cuddling, or doing anything together, nine out of ten times he'll want the dog to come. Sorry, but that's his baby now, too.

[vermili-and-eudo]

Vermili: While my superhero outfit is largely black, that is strictly for camouflage. I also have my tail and bands that are Pink, but that's to mark my wrists. My favorite color is Yellow. Eudo: Vibrant Green.

Eudo: I like easy listening music from the 70's/80's, stuff that's considered Yacht Rock. But when I'm with Vermili, Our Song is "Feels So Good" by Sonique

Vermili: Fists. I have no reason to walk around foes holding a gun, I have bad aim, I could easily kill someone, and with physical fighting, I can control how hard I hurt someone, so I'm mostly gentler to let them live and learn a lesson.

Vermili: You have to be in order to be a great Superhero!

Eudo: I take a great amount of care into my fashion/functionality combo, as while I would love to look like Liberace all the time, I hate wearing sleeves as it bunches my feathers and I can't fly with them. I love a lot of bright colors that call for attention. Vermili: I have made different outfits, experimenting in a trial and error to figure out what would work best for me and eventually my husband. My old Superhero outfit is made out of a combo of cloth and linen due to the high temperatures of my hometown.

Eudo: I dye the tips of my feathers every three months, mostly green, But sometimes I dye them a different color for an occasion. Vermili: I had SUCH bad helmet hair before meeting Eudo. Now I just comb it.

Eudo and Vermili: ... *Slowly point fingers at each other*

Vermili: my full Superhero name of "The Vermili Wrangler" often just gets shortened to Vermili for convenience sake.

Vermili: Key Lime Pie, I can tell when it's not made with real key limes! Eudo: Moon Shrimp Cake. If the local Chinese place has it, I order it every time!

Eudo: Our Wedding rings are the only jewelry we wear, not counting rhinestones on special outfits.

Out of character here. Vermili's personal journey was largely inspired by my own terms of coming out and a source of inspiration being Earthworm Jim. I would probably get along with Vermili and Eudo, I think we could be friends

Eudo: I was born on May 14th, 1977, I know there's a photo of me with a mugshot card saying 87, but that was because they ran out of 7s. Vermili is not exactly sure when he was born because he was a lab mutation accidentally made round 2000, so I celebrate the day he became a superhero and was introduced to society, being August 22nd, 2001.

Vermili: We both speak English, I know a little bit of Spanish to help out some of the local immigrants, but Eudo speaks it better than I can.

Vermili: I'm best with measurements, Eudo is great with money.

Vermili: I was the result of a lab throwing a meteorite at a Tamandua and some special educations, so I don't have any family per say, but Eudo has an amazing family, they treat me like I'm one of their own! He has a mom, a dad, and a younger brother named Doodle.

Vermili: I've helped a couple abandoned dogs before.

Eudo: I liked to run around and play sports as a kid.

Vermili and Eudo: NEVER!

Eudo: We are quick to act whenever some gets hurt, but are mostly cool tempered.

Vermili and Eudo: We can't drive

Vermili: Favorite place to be... Eudo: Oh come on, you know what they're asking! Vermili: I do, I just don't want to say it out loud.... Eudo: St. Petersburg Beach.

Eudo: Yeah, but Vermili is mostly a night owl, and I'm an early riser.

Vermili: I sound like Spencer from iCarly, and I CAN'T SING AT ALL.

Vermili: Sometimes I play videogames. I used to crash a lot of computers so I stuck with my Dreamcast for quite a bit. I like to play games with Eudo's little brother.

Vermili: I've been told I should get my eyes checked due to tamanduas having very poor eyesight, But I can see just fine! Eudo: You attacked a dress mannequin last night. Vermili: IT WAS DARK AND I THOUGHT IT WAS A BURGLAR.

Eudo: Me and Vermili us eachother as moving boosts, as while I'm light and can fly real high, Vermili can do a very strong all 4 run that gives me a boost. Doodle was born without an arm, so he uses a prosthetic.

Vermili: This will be the last question answered out of this list, because I'm not sure how to answer the rest of them, but I Love watching football, and I'm really good at baseball.

i wanted to make an oc ask game 😋 things i like to ask people abt their characters:

are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?

what sort of music would they like? have you thought about what genres or bands do they lean towards? do they have a favorite song?

weapon of choice? any particular reason they chose their weapon?

how crafty/resourceful are they?

how do they typically dress? does their wardrobe lean more towards practicality or aesthetics?

how do they wear their hair? do they care a lot how their hair looks?

favorite animal? why?

do they have a nickname? who gave it to them? if it's not derived from their real name, what's the story behind it?

favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions?

if they wear jewelry, what kind? do they prefer silver or gold? do they have a favorite gem?

what do they have in common with you? how are they different? would you get along with them?

how long have they been around? do you know their birthday? is their birthday the day you made them or another day? what do they think of celebrating birthdays?

what languages do they speak? how fluently?

are they any good with numbers?

how big or small is their family? who did they live with growing up? do they live with anyone now?

do they have any pets? what do they call their pets?

how did they spend their summers/free time as a child?

their opinion on lying, stealing, and killing?

are they quick to anger? what sets them off?

if applicable, can they drive? if they have their own, what color is their vehicle? is the inside neat and tidy, or a mess?

their favorite place to be?

do they sleep well at night?

how would you describe their voice? can they sing?

do they have any creative hobbies? (art, writing, music, etc)

how good/bad is their hearing? what about their eyesight?

how do they move? are they clumsy? light on their feet? do they use mobility aids?

if applicable, do they have a favorite sport? do they play any sports or prefer to watch?

how do they show that they care about someone? how do they express that they don't like someone?

are they associated with any particular element (air, earth, fire, water)?

do they smell like anything notable?

do they like receiving gifts? giving gifts? what is their ideal gift?

do they have any habits that aren't particularly self-destructive, just maybe odd?

if applicable, how would your other characters describe them? i mean specifically the people around them.

how would your character describe themselves? it doesn't have to line up with how they really are.

do they ever return home?

[dreamersparacosm]

i want jealous jungkook too...but do you know who i want him to be jealous of? BAM. I WANT OC AND BAM I WANT THEM

tpod!jungkook would absolutely be jealous of a dog. like he already fought to have you, now he has to fight with his own dog?? what kind of world is this?

the price of desire — epilogue blurb 1!

prompt ; in which jungkook’s biggest competition isn’t a man, but his own doberman.

warnings ; none!

Here’s the thing about Jeon Jungkook: when you’re in Korea, he simply forgets how to function like a normal human being.

Sure, he could go to rehearsals. He could hang out with the boys, lift heavy things at the gym, play with Bam at the dog park until one of them drops dead from exhaustion. He could — and does — have a life outside of you.

But unfortunately, that’s impossible to uphold currently. Because Jungkook, in all his stubbornness, has decided that when you are in Korea, you are his life.

So he waits, with the particular blend of patience and agitation that only the hopelessly devoted can manage.

He waits while you sit through endless meetings in the Seoul office where he assumes you're probably reshaping the course of fashion history. Meanwhile, he — professional idol, household name, literal global phenomenon — spends his entire afternoon fluttering around the house like an overgrown golden retriever preparing for your arrival back.

When you finally do appear, hours later than you promised (”just a quick check-in meeting,” you said, like a liar), he’s orchestrated the perfect welcome. There’s even some of your candles lit that you got from the market the other afternoon.

He made sure to put on that stupid grey hoodie you once said you liked, the one that makes him look especially ‘boyfriend-coded’ which is insane because he is your boyfriend, but whatever, he’s trying to a better man for you.

There he stands in the entryway as your keys jiggle in the lock, heart metaphorically cupped in his hands like an anxious teenager, waiting for the moment your eyes find him after a day at work.

The door swings open with comedic timing.

You enter, still clad in your professional clothes, designer bag hanging from your shoulder. Your gaze performs a quick sweep of the space, a radar searching for something that’s not him.

Somehow, impossibly, you miss the tall international superstar practically vibrating with anticipation directly in your line of sight.

It’s too late; your attention has already locked, with laser-guided precision, onto what is apparently the actual love of your life.

"Bam!" You gasp, the name ripping from your throat with the same intensity usually reserved for reunion scenes in war movies. His dog doesn’t fight it, just wags his tail and pants excitedly when he realizes you’re home.

Just like that, Jungkook experiences the unique displeasure of watching himself become irrelevant.

He stands, a bewildered expression on his face, as you drop your bag, drop your coat, drop your body at Bam’s unsuspecting feet. Within seconds, you've transformed from fashion industry powerhouse to someone talkimg in a baby voice to a dog on his entryway floor. “Oh my god, Look at you, you handsome boy! Did you miss me? I missed you so much, mwah!”

You're now kissing the dog. Not polite little pecks, but full-on, emotionally-invested mouth kisses, as if you've spent your entire day in meetings plotting how to most effectively transfer your affection to this four-legged creature while breaking his owner's heart.

Jungkook watches this betrayal unfold, holding a spatula, like he’s someone who's just realized he's accidentally enrolled in the world's most elaborate third-wheel masterclass.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

He clears his throat once.

Nothing.

He shifts his weight to his other foot.

Still… nothing. No passing glance.

Sprawled on his floor in complete surrender, you’re essentially involved in an impromptu romance with his pet. Jungkook — who has spent the last three hours committing culinary crimes against rice and desperately channeling his mother's cooking spirit — stands frozen.

It’s fine. Completely fine. Absolutely, one hundred percent acceptable.

Except for the tiny detail that he’s mentally drafting adoption papers for Bam.

He clears his throat again, louder this time and pointedly.

Finally, as if emerging from a trance, you glance up. “Hi, baby," You chirp, lips puckering in his direction, clearly expecting him to bridge the gap.

As if he's some lovesick sitcom husband whose entire world revolves around whatever affection you decide to toss his way. (Which…alright. Maybe he is. But acknowledging that would undermine his current position.)

Jungkook stares back at you, arms crossed, mouth pressed into a flat line.

Your eyebrows furrow, lips still suspended mid-pucker. When his statue holds firm, you slowly lower your mouth into a frown.

"...Hello?" You venture from your position on the floor, blinking up at him.

"Hi," He returns.

You narrow your eyes into little slits, hands still rubbing Bam’s head. "Come here."

"No."

"Why?"

"You kissed the dog," He announces petulantly.

You blink again. And then, because you are exactly the kind of woman who built a million-dollar career off smelling blood in the water, you grin.

“Oh my god,” you say, already laughing. “Are you—?”

You dramatically disengage from Bam, remaining on your knees but pressing both hands to your chest in a theatrical gesture. “Are you jealous? Of Bam?"

Jungkook's jaw flexes. He glares at some fascinating invisible point approximately six inches to the left of your head.

“I'm not jealous," He mutters, hands clasped behind his back as he avoids your gaze. (Which is exactly what someone jealous would say.)

"You're jealous of your own dog," You whisper, tone faux sympathy.

You shift your weight back, settling onto your heels, craning your neck to study him like he's a fascinating psychological case study.

Bam, however, is blissfully unaware of his central role in this drama. He wags his tail so hard that his whole butt is moving side to side like a windshield wiper.

"I leave for a couple of hours," you observe with fascination, "and you've already picked a fight with a literal puppy."

"He's not even a puppy anymore," Jungkook snaps back instantly, as if the classification of his ‘competitor’ is somehow the most pressing issue in this standoff.

You gasp, one hand flying to clutch at imaginary pearls. “Oh my god. You're calling him old? You're losing it, Jeon."

"I'm not losing it," He grumbles defensively.

The evidence suggests otherwise.

You rise to your feet slowly and saunter over to him. He stands there, arms still crossed, watching you approach with a suspicious squint.

You stop inches in front of him. Looking up through your lashes with innocence that wouldn't fool a toddler (but still somehow works on global superstars), you deploy your sweetest, most saccharine tone: "Baby," you murmur, "Love of my life."

Your hands slide up his chest, fingers toying with the neckline of his hoodie. The very one he selected for your approval, now weaponized against him.

"Don't tell me you're scared," you whisper with mock concern, eyes wide. "That Bam's gonna steal me away?"

His response surpasses non-verbal communication: silence paired with a scowl.

You grin evilly, and you lean forward until your lips brush against the shell of his ear. “He does have better hair than you," you tease.

Jungkook jerks back like he’s been electrocuted, mouth falling open in outrage.

"I knew it," he declares. "I knew you liked him better!"

Your laughter echoes throughout the whole room. His expression remains fixed in accusation, still treating your interaction with Bam — who has now abandoned you two to roll on his back in blissful oblivion — as a mortal enemy who must be defeated.

You wipe under your eyes dramatically, pulling yourself together with exaggerated effort before tilting your head.

"It's okay, baby," you console with insincerity. "Some men just can't handle the competition."

The scowl on his face deepens.

You nod solemnly, caressing his bicep. "Maybe you should work on your wagging. And your fur. I mean, Bam's coat? Impeccable."

Jungkook's mouth drops open again in shock.

You heave a long-suffering sigh, the sound of someone burdened with the great responsibility of being with a ridiculous man.

“God,” you roll your eyes, stepping into his space and grabbing a fistful of the front of his hoodie. “You’re so dramatic.”

And before he can launch into another argument, you yank him down and press your lips to his. Firm, no-nonsense, entirely fed up, but still soft because, unfortunately, you’re obsessed with him. (But he’s obsessed with you right back.)

He smiles against your lips, the ones that taste like some coconut lip balm you always wear.

Of course, though, he can’t leave it alone. Has to get the last word in, even when his hands are sliding up your sides and his chest is rumbling with happiness.

“You taste like dog,” He mumbles into your mouth and when you pull back to glare at him, he grins wider, looking downright pleased with himself.

masterlist + request

[twohearts-hs]

Dove & Captain: 4 - Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader Series

Words in Total: 9.8k

Pairings: Dr. Jack Abbot x fem!reader

Synopsis: She's his Dove. The ER nurse who is the definition of chaos, trauma and humour in scrubs. He's her Captain, gruff, emotionally guarded war veteran with a prosthetic leg and completely in love with her. Six years together, a mortgage, four dogs and the ability to conquer anything. This is a story of their life in one day. He is 49, she's 30. This is one day of their life based on the 15 episodes of 'The Pitt'. There will be little imagines of their relationship over the years.

Warnings: Swearing, Age Gap, Trauma, Medical Language/Procedure, Pregnancy, Miscarriage, etc.

A/N: This is a complete series of ~60k. I will post a few snapshots of their relationship over the six+ years they've been together.

Hope you enjoy :)

Series Masterlist

-

1200

Y/N finally looked at her phone again. It was little past twelve and she had a moment to breathe. Opening her phone, she saw a few messages. One from Jack around a few minutes ago: “Jesus, dove, woke up to this novel of a text. Sounds good about dinner. I’ll grab ingredients soon. Dogs are good. Going to walk them in a bit. About Dolly, send me a link, but can’t promise anything. We have four already…  Just be smug to Robby back and put him in his place. Beckett can crash, but can we talk before he comes? Just need to debrief with you. Let Beckett know that the guest bed is made, but if he leaves his socks in the kitchen again, I’m going to make him clean the bathroom. Talk soon.”

            She nodded, reading it before going to the next message that was from Beckett. “Fire. Talked to Mom a few days ago. She met a lad at the legion and now thinks she has found her soulmate. Let’s see how long this one lasts…”

            Y/n chuckled, nodding before closing her phone. Robby gathered everyone and debriefed with them all about charting. It was a standard lecture about how to improve patient satisfaction scores, to get the hospital more money and to be through with diagnosing.

            Y/N finally got the tests results back for Nick Riley, glancing over them, she sighed. The kid did OD over fentanyl. Basically the same age as Beckett.

            “Robby,” Y/N said, getting up and walking over to him. She was wearing a cardigan now, a hot pink one, due to her being cold. “Nick Riley’s cerebral perfusion study is back,” she told him, handing him the tablet.

            She watched him take a deep breath as he glanced over the tablet to see the results. A loud sigh came before subtle nods. “No blood flow past the brain stem. Ok,” he muttered, looking over at her. “How are you holding up?” he asked, sending her a silent nudge.

            Y/N stared at him for a moment before nodding. “Fine. Grand. Good,” she muttered and shook her head lightly. “A lot of death today.”

            He nodded. “Yeah, I know. Jack had a rough night as well,” he explained.

            Y/N nodded. “Must be a full moon,” she mumbled. “Or a retrograde.” He just stared at her for a moment before chuckling. “How are you holding up, Chief?” she asked. “You don’t usually work this day. I’ve been caught up with my shit and didn’t think about you. Just checking in.”

            He stared at her for a moment, debating whether to talk, but thought not to. “Just another day in paradise,” he responded. “I’m fine,” he added as she stared at him for a moment with a raised brow. “You sound like Dana.”

            “We are cut from the same cloth,” Y/N replied, sending a smirk. “What do you want me to do with Nick?” she asked, going back to work.

            “Let me know when the transplant people from CORE arrive,” he said to her.

            “Yeah, totally,” she replied before turning away and leaving to check on her patients.

            Y/N was so close to winning the bet, but Collin’s got her by one factor. She had crash and the catch wrong, which Collin’s got right. Robby made fun of her for a bit, saying she did her calculations wrong, but Y/N shoved it off. She muttered something like, “Better at counting cards than making bets. There’s a mathematical equation to it which you can never get wrong when you do it correctly.”

            Dana and Robby just stared at her as if she had two heads.

            The ER was in its usual state of chaos, monitors beeping, sneakers squeaking, call lights flashing, trauma bay doors opening and swinging. It was just another day. Busy, hectic and chaotic.

            Y/N was standing leaning against the counter lightly as she wrote something on the computer. Her reading glasses on her nose as she ran a hand down her face. She was focused, humming lowly under her breath some song that Jack showed her a few days ago. He was about educating her on real music, whatever that meant.

            Robby approached her. “How many cups of coffee have you had?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

            “I don’t know. Maybe four,” she muttered, not thinking. “Did you get me one? I would love you forever. I didn’t sleep last night.”

            He stared at her, but she was focused on the computer.

            “You know, you’re only supposed to have two cups of coffee a day max while pregnant,” he whispered, leaning into her. Y/N slowly glanced up to him, face falling.

            “Fuck,” she whispered.

            “How far along are you?” he asked, raising a brow.

            “Seven weeks,” she whispered back. “Oh my God,” she whispered again, “the fetal heart rate is going to be increasing, and it could impair oxygenation. It can also increase a miscarriage.” She was whispering more to herself. She glanced down at the floor, trying to calm herself. “Oh my fucking God,” she whispered, voice filled with worry.

            Robby instantly softened. He stepped closer, placing a hand on her arm, squeezing it lightly, voice gentle but steady. “Hey, hey, breathe, Ace.”

            She nodded, but her hand was already on her stomach like could somehow undo the caffeine with her palms. “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t even – fuck, Robby, what if I messed something up?” Her voice cracked on the last word, quiet but filled with a rising panic she didn’t often allow anyone to see.

            “You didn’t,” he said firmly. “Y/N, just stop, ok? Deep breaths. It’s not like you shot espresso into your veins through an IV. Four cups ins’t great, but its not catastrophic.”

            She bit down her lip, looking at him through wide, glassy eyes. “I know better, though. I fucking know better.”

            He nodded. “Yeah, you do. But you also haven’t slept. You’ve been working all week and you’ve been carrying this secret around, trying to function like nothing has changed. You’re stressed. That doesn’t make you a bad mom. It makes you human.”

            Her eyes dropped again, and she gave him a small nod. “Thanks, Robby,” she hummed.

            “Where’s that giant water bottle you carry around? The pink one? Let me fill it with water and electrolytes, vitamins and all that jazz. Get you hydrated,” he said with a smile, patting her on the back.

            “It’s at my station,” she replied. “Thanks.”

            He nodded. “Anytime. But before I do that, I do need your advice on something,” he told her, looking at her.

            Y/N nodded. “Yeah, shoot.”

            “It’s really weird and I don’t know what the hell to do with it. I don’t know if you’ve seen something like this or read about it…”

            She slowly nodded, pressing save on the chart she was working on and turning her full attention to him. “Talk to me.”

            “There’s a woman who came in this morning. Nausea, vomiting, lightheaded, fatigue, that sort of thing. Vitals were fine. Blood work clean. Nothing to show what was happening. With a few questions, she finally admitted that she had taken an induced vomiting drug. Made herself sick to get here.”

            Y/N raised a brow. “Factitious Disorder?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

            He shook his head. “Thought that, but no. She wants help. Told me her son is planning on killing some schoolgirls.”

            Y/N’s face doesn’t change, instead she just stared at him. “Repeat that?”

            Robby leaned forward, voice low. “She said her teenage son has a list of girls he wants to kill. A hit list. She found it. Doesn’t know who to tell. Doesn’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should get the police involved – McKay said I should. Dad died due to COVID. Kid ran off when I questioned.”

            Y/N exhaled. “Holy shit, ok.”

            “Yeah,” Robby nodded. “I’ve never had anything like this in the decades of medicine I’ve been practising. I mean, what do I even do? I’m not psych. This isn’t my wheelhouse.”

            Y/N doesn’t hesitate. “First, you need to document everything. Everything. Everything he mentioned, every action he did. Anything. Everything mom says and does as well. Trauma can cause idealisations like this. Or other mental health disorders. Mom brought him here, which means there’s an element of seeking help rather than hiding it. That’s important.”

            Robby nods slowly, absorbing.

            “Second,” Y/N continues, her tone soft but confident, “you are talking to her like she’s in a crisis. This is not a crisis right now. Do not make her more worried than she is right now. This is terrifying for her. You need to build therapeutic rapport.”

            Robby furrowed his brows. “I’m not a therapist, Y/N.”

            She shrugged. “Well, sometimes you need to be. Therapeutic rapport is building a bond, trust between you and the patient. No judgment. Be empathic, validate her feelings, make her feel safe. Hear the whole story. Moms know their kids. I know you’re good at rapport. I’ve seen it.”

            He nodded.

            “Ask her how she’s coping. Ask if there’s anyone helping her – therapists, counsellors, psychologists, even family. A support system needs to be created. She’s not crazy, she’s worried. She’s a mother whose son might be a danger to others, she’s scared shitless.”

            He nodded. “What about the son?”

            Y/N shrugged. “He’s a minor, right?” Robby nodded. “It’s not a ‘tell the school’ issue. You need to report this. Don’t call the police. Police don’t know how to deal with cases like this without making it seem criminal. Get psych involved, even social work. I can help do. But right now, your job is the mom. Talk to her. Sit down. Be human. It’s not about diagnosing, it’s about understanding the pain that this kid is going through and how you can support the family. If that makes sense. It’s not black or white, Robby. Tough with situations like this.”

            Robby looked at her for a beat, then chuckled softly. “You can be terrifying when you’re calm like this.”

            She hummed. “Did my time in mental health, remember? Three years of working in the psych ward as a mental health worker. I’ve sat on too many cold tile floors with kids who thought no one would ever understand them. You don’t forget that. Being a teenager is hard, especially in this day of age.” Y/N squeezed his arm. “I have a teenager brother. It’s hard for them.”

            Robby nodded. “Thanks. I mean it.”

            Y/N bumped her shoulder with his. “You got this, Cowboy. Just be kind. Active listening. That’s all people ever really need.” He sent her a smile. “Want me to come? Jump in if needed?”

            He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, too many bodies. She might freak out.”

            Y/N nodded. “Absolutely valid. Go be a therapist for a second. Might even boost your patient satisfaction scores,” she hummed, smiling.

            Robby chuckled, shaking his head and walking away.

-

Dana came up to Y/N a little while later. “Have you eaten, sweetheart?” she asked, leaning to look at her.

            Y/N shook her head. “Not since this morning when Jack shoved a sandwich down my throat and then I puked it up,” she replied, humming.

            “Come on, Mama,” she hummed, hooking her arm with the nurse and pulling her to the break room.

            Once they got there, there were several bags filled with sandwiches. Instantly, Y/N then felt her hunger, sitting down and going through the bags.

            “Ugh,” McKay groaned, “the things I would do for pastrami.”

            Y/N smirked, going through the boxes to find something she could eat. It was recommended not to eat cold cuts when pregnant, so she was searching for something.

            “Is there a turkey and cheese?” Princess asked, glancing over.

            “Uh, yeah,” Y/N replied, handing her a box.

            The door opened, and Robby came in. “Oh, what is all this?” he asked.

            “Lunch. Primanti’s. It appears that we have at least one grateful patient,” Dana replied, looking over her shoulder to see Robby.

            Robby smirked. “Hope is alive. Who do we have to thank?” he asked.

            “I don’t know. I think there’s a card at the bottom of the bag,” Dana said.

            Robby found it, reading it over, however he placed it down, face fallen. “Enjoy your lunch,” he responded, then looked over at Y/N. “But you…eat,” he lectured, pointing at the young nurse.

            “I am!” she hollered back, mouth full of food.

            “Good.” Then he left the room.

            Y/N noticed the wicked change of behaviour from the old man within seconds. Brows furrowed; she grabbed the card.

            “What was that?” Whitaker asked.

            “Don’t know,” Dana replied.

            Y/N sighed. “It’s from Shelby Adamson, Dr. Adamson’s sister,” Y/N replied, handing the card to Dana.

            “She sends something every year,” Dana muttered, sighing.

            “He doesn’t like her?” Whitaker asked.

            Y/N shook her head. “No, it’s about that. It’s about him,” she whispered, biting into her sandwich again.

            “Dr. Adamson was Robby’s mentor and he…he died during COVID, so,” Dana replied, another deep sigh came from her.

-

1300

Y/N got called for a potential drug-induced patient or even psych. Nandi, an influencer who was erratic. Y/N stood next to Robby, arms crossed, as Donnie administered some drugs and Santos and Mohan tried to get the patient’s history.

            “Javadi, Whitaker, see if you can do the exam,” Robby said, looking over to the med students.

            They nodded. Javadi took out her pen light. “Can you look at the light?” she asked as Whitaker took vitals.

            Instantly, the patient flinched, hiding herself away from the light. “No. What was that?” she expressed.

            “Ok. Open your mouth?” Javadi tried.

            The patient was curled up, scared and filled with fear. Y/N continued to watch the behaviour, glancing over to Robby, who gave her a look.

            “No. It’s not real. Where am I?” the patient continued to express, voice filled with fear.

            “How do you even do an exam with a patient like this?” Whitaker asked.

            Nandi continued to be paranoid.

            “Observe her. Wait for her to look at you or open her mouth, and get a quick look. Make sure she moved her arms and legs equally,” Mohan explained to the med students.

            Donnie tried to get the patient hooked up to the monitor, but she was fighting.

            “Alright, we might need to wait until after the meds kick in,” Robby explained, arms still crossed as he looked at the patient. Then he called everyone out of the room. Y/N followed suit.

            Once out of the room, Y/N stood in front of Robby, glancing back as she tried to think of what could possibly have happened. However, Robby let out a sigh.

            “Ok, differential diagnosis?” he asked.

            “Schizophrenia, first psychotic break. She’s in the right age range,” Javadi suggested.

            Y/n slowly nodded. Robby too. “Yeah, what else?” he said.

            “Drugs, also common in this age group,” Whitaker explained.

            “Common in any age group,” Y/N replied.

            “Exactly,” Robby said. “What else?”

            “Not just recreational drugs. It could also be toxicity to medications,” Javadi tried.

            Y/N nodded again, thinking that could be a possibility as well.

            “Don’t just jump to conclusions,” Mohan reminded. “Think big categories and then specifics.”

            “Metabolic, hyper- or hyponatremia, calcium, hepatic encephalopathy,” Whitaker brainstormed.

            “Endocrine, hyperthyroid, infectious encephalitis,” Javadi added.

            “These are all possibilities,” Robby muttered, looking down at the floor for a second. “Ok, let’s work her up medically and see if we can clear her.” Then he glanced at the patient through the window.

            “Chem panel, CBC, TSH and T4, drug screen, and hCG,” Mohan muttered, saying the tests they need to do.

            “Yep. Keep me posted. If it’s all negative, then admit her to psych,” Robby ordered, nodding at the team before walking off.

            Y/N nodded, turning back to the patient to help stabilise her so they could get the tests done.

-

Y/N watched Robby’s behaviour for an hour. The way he was snappier, grumpier and a little bit too harsh with his tone. She figured it could be because he was hangry or perhaps due to the fact that it was Adamson’s death day. However, she needed to talk to him. She needed him to talk to her and for her to express that he can’t talk the way he does to his team.

            When she spotted him exiting the bathroom, she made her way, stopping in front of him. He stared at her for a moment, raising a brow.

            “You, me, talk, now,” she barked, pointing to the hallway.

            “Y/N,” he tried, voice low and warning.

            She shook her head. “Nope. You’re talking to me,” she explained, grabbing his arm and pulling him.

            “I’m a busy man, Y/N. I don’t have time–“

            “Don’t care. You need a moment to decompress. To breathe. So, we will go to the corner and hash it out,” she barked back, stopping in a spot where no one could see them. “You’re being harsh to the kids. A little bit too blunt, which isn’t like you, Robby–“

            He stared at her for a moment before glancing away, rocking back and forth on his feet. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” he said, trying to convince her.

            She shook her head. “You’re off today. I’m not the only one who sees it.”

            He scoffed.

            “You’re snapping. Chewing the kids out like they stole your car. Something’s going on, so tell me,” Y/N explained, nudging him. “Just between us.”

            He glanced at her, eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite place – exhaustion, maybe. Pain. Or both. His jaw clenched.

            “Jesus, Y/N,” he muttered. “Not everything needs to be dissected with your psych degree and nurse intuition. Maybe I’m just in a bad fucking mood.”

            She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t snap at people because of a bad mood. That’s not who you are. Also, you need to be professional, Robby. If it is a bad mood, stop impacting other people. We need to work as a team.”

            Robby looked away again, like he was trying to swallow something that didn’t want to go down. “You ever think that maybe I’m just a ride for people expecting me to hold it together?” he muttered.

            Y/N softened when he muttered that. “Then talk it out. Say it. Don’t lash out at them. You’re their attending, Robby, their mentor. The chief of the ER. They look up to you.”

            He let out a humourless laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, today they’re looking up to a man who’s–“ He sighed.

            She stared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re one of the only people I’ve ever trusted to go into hell with and come out on the other side. But not like this. Not when you’re burning people with you.” He blinked. Once. Twice. “It’s ok to not be ok.”

            Then his tone dropped, almost broken as he glanced down.

            “It’s Adamson’s anniversary.”

            She nodded slowly. “I figured.”

            “And then all the fucking deaths, chaos. It’s just–“

            “It’s a day, Robby. Too much in one day,” she replied, sending him a small smile.

 He nodded, breathing harder now. “I just. Everyone expects us to fix things and sometimes I don’t know how to fix things.”

Y/N nodded. “You’re not supposed to fix everything, Robby,” she said gently. “But it’s ok to not be ok. We are doing our best. All of us.” Robby stared at her. “We aren’t superheroes. We aren’t God or whatever people believe in. We are just ER cowboys trying to win the rodeo,” she replied.

            There was a long pause, and Robby looked like he might finally crack. His mouth opened but then Y/N’s face shifted.

            Instantly, she grasped the wall as she clasped her stomach, holding it. Wincing, as she held her breath.

            Robby watched her, eyes widening. “Y/N?” he asked, instantly, alarm.

            Her brows furrowed as she continued to feel the intense cramps. “Fuck,” she whispered before shaking her head. “No, no, no, you do not get to do this.” Y/N bent over, both hands covering her stomach now.        

            Robby stepped closer, his voice soft but urgent. “Talk to me. What’s happening?”

            Y/N glanced up at him, colour draining from her face. He said her name again, hand coming out to hold her, but instantly, she pushed past him. Robby turned, seeing her beginning to try her best with walking away.

            “Y/N,” he tried, walking after her.

            “I’m fine, go back to work,” she whispered, breathy.

            He scoffed. “No, no. You’re not fine,” he said, trying to reach for her, but she pulled away.

            She turned to him. “Fuck off and leave me alone,” she barked. “Do not follow me.”

            Then she disappeared down the hall, leaving Robby standing here, pulse pounding in his ears.

            He knew it. He knew exactly what was happening. And this time, he couldn’t fix it either.

-

1400

Y/N pushed the bathroom door open. She knew what was happening, biting down on her bottom lip, she closed the bathroom door, locking it. Sitting down on the toilet, she pulled her pants down and glanced at her underwear.

            Instantly, her stomach turned. Instantly, a sob came from her. Instantly, she closed her eyes and lost it.

            Blood. So much blood.

            She was miscarrying.

            Sitting there, she let it happen. She let everything happen. Y/N closed her eyes, sitting there on the toilet. Her pants were down, her hands were on her knees, and the tears just came. Y/N knew it was going to happen. It happened before. The chance of her getting pregnant was slim, but the chance of her carrying to term was even slimmer.

            There was a piece of her that was hopeful. Bleeding can happen in pregnancy, and she was still in her first trimester, but as she opened her eyes again and looked at her underwear, she shook her head.

            This was not light bleeding. Not even close. This was truly a miscarriage.

            Y/N let the tears happen for minutes. She knew Robby would find her if she got spotted, but she couldn’t think about this right now.

            She just had to let herself grieve in solitude.

            Twenty-four hours. She had knowledge that she was pregnant for twenty-four hours. She found out around two o’clock the day prior and now it was just a little past two, and she was not pregnant anymore.

            Y/N took deep breaths. Allowing herself to calm herself down. Cleaning her underwear and grabbing a sanitary pad from the bathroom, she fixed herself up at the mirror. She had to go on. Few more hours. Few more hours and she could go home.

            Y/N knew Beckett wanted to come over today, but she couldn’t let him anymore. She needed to be alone. Tomorrow was her day off. She could wallow in her own pity or pretend it never happened.

            Then it hit her.

            Jack. Her sweet, old man, Jack. He had no idea. Not a single clue what was going on.

            There was no pregnancy anymore. There was no exciting news. There was no baby. There was no way she was going to tell him now.

            He didn’t know about the last miscarriage. They weren’t together at the time. She had her last one at twenty-two. Eight years ago. A different partner at the time. A whole other world.

            Y/N grasped the sink for a moment, wiping her tears before looking back up. She smiled, showed her teeth and then took a deep breath.

            She needed to confirm the miscarriage. She needed proof.

            Opening the door to the bathroom, she kept her head down, walking past everyone and making her way to the ultrasound machine that was standing by the nurses’ station. She grabbed it, wheeling it to Central 16. However, Robby watched her. Robby watched her with Dana next to him as Y/N tried to hide this from everyone.

            Instantly, he pushed off the leaning post against the station and followed suit.

            Y/N was in the trauma room, turning the ultrasound on while grabbing the gel, when the door opened.

            “Lie down,” Robby whispered. “Let me,” he said.

            Y/N turned her head, tear tear-stained face and reddened eyes. However, no more tears were thre. She froze for a second, gripping the ultrasound probe too tightly, knuckles white. The room was quiet, too quiet. The kind of silence that made everything echo, even your own breath.

            Y/N stared at him, no words, just shook her head in a silent ‘no’. Robby stepped forward gently, hands raised as if he was approaching a wounded animal.

            “Please, Ace,” he said softly. “Let me help.”

            She blinked slowly; tears welled again but didn’t fall. Her voice was nearly gone. “I know how to use an ultrasound machine, Robby,” she responded.

            “I know you can,” Robby replied. “But you shouldn’t have to do this. Not alone.”

            Y/N’s lips trembled. Her fingers loosened around the probe before she let it drop onto the tray beside the machine. She didn’t say anything – just walked slowly over to the medical bed and laid back, legs still tense, arms folded across her chest.

            Robby moved with care, grabbing a pair of gloves and setting up the ultrasound. He didn’t speak as he pulled, he pivacy curtain across the window and door. The room filled with a quiet hum of the machine warming up.

            “This is just to check, ok?” he said. His voice was steady and careful. “I’m going to use a little pressure.”

            She nodded without looking at him. Her jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt. Mind racing as she took deep breaths. Tucking her shirt up, she exposed her stomach to him.

            Robby squirted the gel onto her lower abdomen and gently moved the probe into place. Y/N turned to look at the screen. Both of them did.

            Nothing.

            He tilted the wand slightly, adjusted angles.

            Still nothing.

            No heartbeat. No flicker. It was there yesterday, but today it was gone.

            The silence was deafening.    

            Robby’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Y/N…”

            “Try transvaginally,” she whispered, staring at the screen. “It would be hard to see it as I’m so early. It’s more accurate.”

            Robby stared at her for a moment, watching as she broke her eye contact from the screen to look at the man, she was so close with. When their eye’s met the hope that was in Y/N’s eyes, the sparkle, was long gone since this morning. She knew the answer, but she was science-based and needed to know.

            “Ok,” he muttered, pulling the probe away.

            “Get me something to drape myself,” she muttered, and Robby nodded, handing her a sheet from a cart in the corner.

            Robby turned his back to her and Y/N pulled her pants down, underwear and all, before draping the sheet over her.

            “I’m bleeding,” she whispered, warning him. “Vaginally,” she muttered added. “Because I’m–“

            He nodded. “I know. It’s ok, Ace. I’ve got you.”

            He didn’t look at her body. He didn’t even glance. He just handed her the internal probe and told her she needed to insert it herself. Y/N sat on the gurney, knees up, legs spread as she inserted it.

            “It’s in, Robby,” she whispered.

            He nodded, finding the probe under the drape, his arm steadying on her knee, a comfort message as he looked back at the screen.

            Still nothing.

            Just the hollow blackness of an empty gestational sac. No flicker. No movement. The image that meant life twenty-four hours ago was now confirmation of loss.

            Y/N closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose. She didn’t cry. She didn’t even flinch. It was like her soul had gone quiet. Numb.

            Robby slowly removed the probe and stepped back, carefully covering her again. He went to open his mouth to explain the next steps when it comes to having a miscarriage, but Y/N stopped him.

            “Not my first rodeo, Cowboy,” she muttered with a hint of a joke, pulling her pants back up. “This is my third,” she casually said.

            Robby stared at her. Hearing such a secret, the vulnerability of her words. “Have you and Jack gone through this before?” he asked. “Were you trying?”

            She scoffed, shaking her head. “No and no. I was twenty-two last time. Then nineteen the first time,” she responded. Y/N was moving to sit on the edge of the medical bed, looking at Robby, who was staring at her like she was broken. “Don’t look at me like that.”

            “Like what?” he whispered, brows furrowed.

            “With pity,” she said. Then she took a deep breath. “Don’t tell Jack. Don’t ever tell Jack. Don’t ever bring it up to Jack. Jack will never know. Never ever know. This is my story. Not our story,” she said, words very deliberate and soft.

            Robby’s brows furrowed, jaw tightening. “Y/N–“

            “I’m fucking serious, Robby,” she snapped, eyes finally locking on this. “He’ll never know. You hear me? This is going with me to the grave.”

            “He loves you, Ace. So much,” Robby said quietly, eyes soft but firm. “He deserves to know. He would want to know. I would want to know if we were together,” he said.

            “But we aren’t,” she casually shrugged before glancing up at the ceiling. “Jack has had a hell of a life. So much loss. He doesn’t need this on top of it. He thought I couldn’t get pregnant. He made his peace with it. I don’t need to disrupt that.”

            Robby crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not good going through this alone,” he muttered.

            She shook her head. “Well, sometimes there are things you do have to conquer alone,” she responded, jumping off the bed and looking at the chief of the ER. “Patient-Doctor confidentiality, Robby. I was your patient,” she said. “Don’t tell Jack.”

            Robby swallowed, nodding. “Go home, Y/N,” he said, a little too sternly, a little too roughly. “Go home. We’ll cover you.”

            She stared at him, crossing her arms. “I’m not dying, Robby. I’m miscarrying, I’m fine–“

            “You’re emotional,” he whispered.

            Her head snapped to him. “Oh, fuck you, Robby,” she barked, shaking her head and walking to the door. “Burn the scan. Delete the images. This never happened,” she said. “Thank you, though, for being here for this minute.”

            Robby didn’t say anything as she opened the trauma room door. He just watched her walk away with fire in her step and devastation in her eyes.

            The minute the door clicked shut behind her, he ran a hand through his hair, then face through his beard and exhaled hard. This was the part of the job that hurt the most. Not the trauma, not the chaos. It was watching someone you love – really love – bleed silently and refuse to help.

            And Jack?

            Jack would lose his fucking mind if he knew what just happened in this room.

            Y/N went to the nurse’s station, sitting down and opening up the computer. Dana knew what was up. Robby mentioned Y/N tumbled in pain, and then she wheeled the ultrasound machine into the trauma room. She stayed silent for a moment, debating what to do with the young nurse who was pretending nothing happened.

            She walked over, pulling a seat next to Y/N.

            “Talk to me,” Dana whispered.

            “Rather not,” she replied, eyes focused on the screen. “But thank you for being like a mom to me,” she whispered. “Thank you for the support.”

            “Always, sweetheart,” Dana hummed back, touching her shoulder, squeezing it. “But I’m here.”

            Y/N nodded, halting her type before looking at Dana. “I’m going to give the same speech to you as I did to Robby. This is between us. Jack will never know. You hear me never know. Ever. It’s my story and I chose who gets to know,” she said quietly, voice sharp.

            Dana nodded staring at her for a moment. “Of course.” Then Dana moved away from Y/N, knowing that hovering wasn’t going to benefit her at all.

-

            Y/N instantly was on her feet when a child rolled in on a gurney. Paramedics announced she was a drowning victim. Y/N instantly grabbed gloves and hurried over.        

            “Amber Philips, six years old. Found at the bottom of a home pool with an unknown downtime. Asystole on the monitor,” the paramedics called out as Y/N hurried alongside them.

            “Intubated with a cuffed 4.5, 22-gauge left AC, 0.25 epi three minutes ago,” another called out.

            Y/N grasped the underlying sheet, as someone counted down before they moved the child from the gurney to the medical bed. Instantly, she was back to herself, grabbing supplies and working around the doctors.

            “Whitaker, take over compressions,” Robby called out before looking up. “Any family coming in?”

            “Grandma and little sister,” a paramedic called out.

            “Fast and deep,” Collin’s stated.

            Whitaker began doing compressions as Mel stepped in with her stethoscope. “She’s really cold.”

            Y/N heard that, knowing what that meant and nodded, already going to work before Robby could say anything.

            “Ace, get a core temp,” he called out.

            “On it already,” she replied.

            “Good breath sounds bilaterally,” Mel called out.

            “Should we use the Lucas?” Whitaker asked.

            “No, she’s way too small for that,” Collin’s replied.

            Y/N was grabbing her temperature, brows furrowed. “Rectal temp only 85.” Y/N shook her head. “Kid’s got moderate hypothermia,” she stated. Robby glanced at Y/N who was deep into her work.

            “Yeah,” he stated, nodding. “We need to get her up to 90 if we have any chance of restarting her heart.”

            They all nodded.

            “250 ccs heated saline. Set up the Arctic Sun. Continuous core temp monitoring, and prep another epi 0.25,” Collins called out, and Y/N instantly went to work grabbing the supplies and things needed.

            Robby just stood there, looking at Y/N. “Robby, if you keep staring, I will throttle you,” Y/N muttered, walking around him.

            He then nodded, out of his daze. “Yup,” he muttered, looking back at the patient.

            They continued to work on the patient, trying their best to bring her back. Y/N tried not to think that there was a little girl on the table, someone’s daughter.

            Grandma came in, sitting next to Amber.

            “She wasn’t breathing, so the medics put a tube in her throat,” Robby whispered to the grandmother.

            “She’s so cold,” Frances, the grandmother, called out, scared.

            “We’re warming her up. That way, she’ll have a better chance to respond to the medicines,” Robby explained, looking back at Y/N who refused to look him in the eye.

            “They moved a bench next to the pool fence so they could go over, because their soccer ball went in the water. Amber couldn’t make it out of the deep end. The gate was locked. I was vacuuming. I didn’t hear them,” Frances muttered, holding onto her granddaughter as she sniffed and sighed.

            Y/N’s heart broke hearing that, but she couldn’t think of that right now. She had a job to do.

            The parents came in soon after. Y/N watched them as the mother came to hold her daughter. Y/N swallowed.

            “Rhythm check. Hold compressions,” Collins called out.

            Whitaker took a step back. But the machine was flat lining.

            “Asystole. Resume compressions,” Collins ordered.

            Whitaker went back to CPR while Y/N held the breathing bag.

            “Three minutes since the last epi,” Y/N said.

            “Push another,” Collins replied.

            “Did you shock the heart?” the mother asked, glancing up.

            “Uh, no,” Robby replied, calmly, lowly.

            “Why…why didn’t you shock the heart?” the mother asked, words desperate and confused. “We’ve got to save her. You’ve got to shock the heart.”

            “Heart rhythm right now is flatlining. That’s not treatable with a shock. We’re trying to get the rhythm to change to something we can shock by warming her up,” Robby replied, voice quite and low.

            “Ok. So, we’ve got to warm up. You’ve got to get some more blankets in here or something,” the mother rambled.

            “We are giving her warm IV fluids, and you can feel these blue pads. They have warm water running through them like a hot tub,” Robby muttered.

            “Are you sure you’re doing everything?” the mother asked, quietly.

            “Yes, we are,” Robby confirmed.

            Robby’s eyes went back to Y/N, who glanced up to see him. He was just staring her, and Y/N took a deep breath and dodged his eyes.

            They continued longer trying to bring back this little girl. Y/N didn’t try to think of the situation but rather the job that needed to be done. Whitaker continued to do chest compressions, warm saline went through her veins and Y/N helped with getting oxygen into her.

            “Core temp is 88,” she spoke up. Slowly it was climbing.

            “Is that good?” the dad spoke up, looking around the room.

            “It’s up from 85 on her arrival, so we’re headed in the right direction,” Collins spoke up.

            Robby was hovering, arms crossed as he walked around the room. His eyes were on the little girl, then Collins, before jumping back to Y/N, who remained emotionless.

            “You hear that, Amber?” the mother spoke. “It’s better,” she said between breaths as she ran her hand through her daughter’s hair. “You’re getting better.”

            “I need to step out for a second. You’re in good hands,” Robby whispered, looking at the parents. “Come find me when it’s over 90,” he whispered to Collins before leaving the room.

            Eventually the core temperature got to 91. Robby was back in the room, glancing at monitors. Mateo was on the bag down helping her breathe while Y/N stood with her arms crossed.

            “Can you shock the heart now?” the dad asked.

            “91 is warm enough for her heart to respond,” Robby muttered, still looking at the monitors.

            “Hold compressions,” Collins addressed. Whitaker stopped and the machine flatlines. Y/N walked to the phone to hear the results of the labs.

            “Asystole,” Mel whispered.

            “Resuming compressions.”

            Listening to it, her face fell, nodding. She hung up, placing the phone back on the wall before turning to the crowd. She took a breath. “Potassium levels are back,” she said.

            Robby looked at her, raising a brow.

            “12.2,” she breathed, knowing what it meant. Her eyes looked over the crowd as Robby walked over, bending down next to the family.

            Y/N’s heart broke, looking over to the girl on the table. Seeing her small frame, her lifeless, small frame and sighed. Another death. Another death on this day.

            “No one has ever survived a cardiac arrest with a potassium over 11. There is absolutely no chance of recovery,” Robby said, voice low, calm and soft. He took a breath. “I am so sorry. Amber has died.”

            Y/N instantly glanced down, biting down on her bottom lip.

            “Before we stop, do you think her sister would like a chance to say goodbye?”

            “No,” the dad responded, shaking his head. “Uh, Bella shouldn’t see her like this.”

            “Ok,” Robby replied, sending a solid nod. “You can stay in here for as long as you like. We are going to stop now,” he told them.

            The mother was hysterical. Y/N couldn’t blame her. She just lost a child. Her child. A daughter who barely lived. So small, so young. Y/N lost a child today, and it might not have been the same as the mother, but it was still a child.

            Robby met Y/N’s eyes, and he saw her expression. His head nodded to the door and she nodded back, quietly excusing herself from the room.

            Y/N walked right outside the trauma ward into the ambulance bay. The sun was shining, the wind was soft, and it was just a beautiful day. A beautiful September day, but it was such a fucking shitty day. She leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath and staring in front of her.

            “Fuck, I want a cigarette,” she muttered. “Just one fucking cigarette.”

            However, she could hear Jack’s words in her brain scolding her for pumping poison into her lungs. His words would be so simple “Dove, rather you talk to me than take your stress out through inhaling toxins.”

            If that was so fucking simple. If everything was so fucking simple.

            She had no idea how long she had been there for, but she saw Nick Bradley’s body being wheeled out on a gurney to the ambulance bay to be transported for organ donation. She missed the memory walk. However, Y/N didn’t move. She stayed put, glancing ahead.

            Dana, Collins and Robby came out to see the ambulance leave. Y/N stayed put, not saying a word, not even looking at them. Instead, just stared ahead. Her arms were crossed, then she glanced down at her shoes, seeing the stains from the job. Her cardigan was gone. Just the long-sleeved cheetah print she had under the lighter scrubs. Y/N pulled the band from her hair, letting it fall over her shoulder. Long, thick locks that cascaded in perfect waves.

            Robby spotted her by the doors, about three metres from them. Her back against the wall, just staring. He debated whether or not to walk over. Would she be down to talk? Would she even want to talk?

            He lingered, hands on his hips, watching her, hus head straight then a slight tilt he did whenever he was thinking too hard. Collins and Dana exchanged a glance, one that said, “leave it to Robby” before heading back in through the double doors, the hush of grief following them.

            Robby waited a beat longer. Then walked over.

            He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood beside her, leaning back against the same wall, crossing his arms. His shoulders brushed hers, but she didn’t move. Instead, her head came, leaning over to his shoulder.

            Her eyes remained forward, lips pressed together and jaw tight. She swallowed hard before she took a deep breath.

            Robby didn’t know what to say.

            “You missed the walk,” he said after the moment, voice low.

            “I know.”

            “He was your patient.”

            She was silent for a moment, then a small, “I know,” came. Nothing else came from her, instead, she just moved her head to get deeper into the crook of his neck.

            Robby’s hand came, grasping her hand as their hands entwined. “I’m here,” he whispered.

            She nodded. “I know.” He went to open his mouth. “Don’t tell me to go home. Please don’t. That’s the last place I want to be.”

            He said nothing, stayed quiet.

            “You’re a good man, Michael,” she whispered. “A really good man. Who deserves so much. Happiness, peace, solitude and a fair life,” she mumbled. “I’m thankful for you. I’m grateful you’re in my life.” Then she breathed. “I’ll always have love for you,” she whispered, looking down. “But this job,” she muttered and took a deep breath in, “slowly degrades you. Burns brain cells. Eats your blood count. Destroys your faith.”

            “I know,” he replied. “You’ve had a day.”

            She stayed quiet for a brief second before pulling away and looking up to his six-foot frame. “No, we are having a day. Not just me.”

            He nodded. “Yeah, pretty fucking shitty. But this is what we do.”

            Y/N nodded in silence before looking back in front of her. “I should tell Jack, right?” she whispered.

            “Yeah, you should.” She nodded, reaching for her phone but he stopped her hand. “This is something to do in person, Y/N. I would like to hear it in person. Not due to selfish needs, but because I would want to hold you while you told me. Wipe your tears. Hold your hand. Caress your hair and whisper ‘it’s going to be ok’.” Y/N met his eyes, and he saw how broken they were. “I would tell you how much I love you. I would ask what you’d want next. Then I’d run you a bath, get in with you and hold you. I’d whisper sweet nothings, delivering kisses along your skin as I rub your stomach. Then we’d go to bed, and I’d hold you all night.”

            Y/N stared at him. They said nothing for moments. Just stared at one another. Their hands were still entwined together.

            Then she took a long, deep breath. “A lot of death today,” she mumbled.

            “I agree.”

            She broke her gaze from him and looked ahead. “It’s been officially like a hundred days of me not smoking. I stress smoke. Since I was eleven, and stole them from my mother. I might light one or two, or a whole packet,” she muttered. Then she took another breath. “Jack found me last time. I’d got news that my mom was ok. She was missing from her housing facility. She was missing for two weeks. Found,” she let out a chuckle, “at our old shit box home. We lived in it till I was ten before we got evicted. She was pregnant with Beckett at the time. We moved into my Nana’s. Beckett was born not soon after,” she mumbled. He looked at her, listening but then she shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I just want a fucking cigarette, and I can hear Jack’s brooding, grumpy old man voice in the back of my head lecturing me.” She met his eyes. “Don’t lecture me, Cowboy,” she joked with a small smile. “I bet you have vices to deal with your shit.”

            He smirked, chuckling. “Hey, we work in the ER, the ways we cope can’t be judged.” Though he winked at her, and she raised a brow. “I can’t give you a cigarette as I don’t smoke and I know Jack would throttle me if he found out. But,” he hummed, digging into his pocket, “I have a mint.”

            Y/N stared at the mint he had. The peppermint, one that brought a smile to her face. “That’s from the staff room.”

            He nodded. “Yes, it is.”

            She then sent a small smile. “Jack, before we started dating, would hand me a mint from the staff room whenever I had a bad case. He would say something like, ‘the burning would distract you’. We’d sit on the rooftop. Talk about anything. Well, he was my boss, so I didn’t know what to talk about. So, we’d talk about common things, which usually was how bad the coffee in the break room was and how I had a conspiracy that the sandwiches from the cafeteria were recycled from the university and from frozen. I was awkward with him.”

            Robby glanced at her. He had one thought – if she wasn’t on night shifts for two years and on days instead, would they have had months like this…leading to a life together.

            “I didn’t know that,” he said gently.

            “Jack’s not a talker,” she responded. “Now he is. Not a yapper, but like the type to express his wants and needs bluntly.”

            Robby chuckled. “Yeah, best mates we are,” he hummed.

            Y/N nodded. “Oh, I know. You two trade tools, talk about trucks and bond over building things from scratch.”

            Robby chuckled. “I did pressure wash your rancher home this past summer,” he mumbled. “And your Bronco.”

            Y/N chuckled. “Jack has threatened me that if I continue to keep my Bronco a mess from all my trash, shit and life, I will be sleeping in the guest room.”

            Robby chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, he’s a military man. Organisation, clean, sleek,” he muttered.

            Y/N rolled her eyes. “I’m right now banned from his truck because I spilt my Starbucks in it last week and plus left my shit in it. But it wasn’t shit. It was like a claw clip, a lipgloss, a tide pen, an old coffee mug and my panties,” she muttered, and Robby raised a brow.

“Panties?”

“We went on a walk, and I ended up swimming in my undergarments, so I took them off in the car while he gave me his shirt. I forgot to bring in my lake-soaked panties. Classic Jack is like ‘Dove, the truck isn’t a purse’ and ‘Your chaotic gremlin energy does not belong in the truck. Truck is sacred’,” she muttered with a chuckle while doing a grumpy Jack impression. “Now, when we have to go anywhere, he demands we drive my car when we have three other cars on the property, but he complains they are ‘collectors’. Then he goes on about the mess. Whatever…”

            Robby rolled his eyes in laughter. “You’re a chaotic girl,” he muttered. “And a chaotic gremlin.”

            “No, I’m spicy. Unique. Different. Keep you on your toes type of girl,” she responded. Then she smirked. “But, I’ll accept gremlin.”

            Robby nodded. “You know it was love at first sight with him,” he mumbled.

            Y/N heard him, heart fluttering for a moment before shaking her head. “No, it wasn’t. When we met, he was emotionally shut down. Still grieving his late wife. I was this chaotic thunderstorm who entered the ER at twenty-two, who questioned the way he charted and his brooding demeanour.” Then she chuckled. “The first year, it was just professional, but I also mainly worked with you Robby on days. I moved to nights because of the premium rates and then gradually, he started to challenge me, teach me new things. After one hard case, he came over and crashed on my couch. Then he started to crash every shift we had together and then he was sleeping in my bed. We were just friends. He never touched me or flirted with me. Then one day, I just kissed him. Somehow, I did it on the rooftop and then…magic. Six years later, four dogs, a mortgage on a rancher on an acre of land by the edge of a city, a Bronco he bought for me, paid off my debt, paying my brother’s university and endless camping trips where I complain about shitting in a hole and sleeping on the floor.” She took a breath. “Why me? I ask every day. Why me? Because I’m far from perfect. Childhood trauma. Addict Mother. Dad,” she breathed, “dad, who has a whole other family. A half-brother who’s my world. And so many stories I’m not proud of but had to do to survive.” Then she shook her head. “He doesn’t know it all. I keep so much because he’s Jack. Old-fashioned, but still progressive, the type who,” she looked over to Robby and whispered, “makes sure a teenage girl gets an abortion. Brooding, strict, blunt, but so kind, deliberate, gentle and patient. The type who makes two of everything when he makes a coffee, or a lunch, because he wants to ensure I’m taken care of. The one who takes care of everything, so I don’t have to worry. Lectures me on letting the dogs on the bed or spending 7$ on a coffee.” Then she let out a loud cackle. “The man who hates my mother but still supports her housing. Buys her groceries for her with me. Comes with me to check on her and didn’t get mad when I was hiding that I was sending her money from our account.”

            Robby stayed quiet, knowing she didn’t need a response.

            “I’m so incredibly happy,” she whispered. “I made my own happiness. Becoming a guardian to Beckett at nineteen, raising him when my mother couldn’t, supporting myself and him while I attended school, going to university, becoming a nurse…getting Winston. But he came, and it was just like, ‘yeah, I’m good now. Don’t need anything else’. But,” she breathed, “a baby.”

            Robby glanced over but her eyes were focused on a rock on the ground. She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Moments. He knew she was thinking of the best way to say it. Her brain was going over every word in her brain.

            “I was a mother,” she eventually said,” I am a mother.”

            Robby’s brows furrowed.

            “I became a mother at fourteen when mom went on a bender for two weeks. Gone, came back for her shift and then fucked off forever. I had a four-year-old brother. I had no choice,” she muttered. “Fuck,” she scoffed. “How am I alive? With her as my mother. Fuck knows. But Beck is mine. He is my child. He’s my son,” she whispered. “Jack sees him as a son. He takes care of him. For me. For us. For him. But also, because he’s Jack,” she muttered as tears came.

            Then everything hit. Memories she shut out from her childhood. Moments she didn’t know ever existed. Situations she hid from herself. Tears began to come down her cheeks.

            “Jack can know about this,” she eventually muttered. “But he can’t know all of me. Of everything I’ve done to be here today to be with him because he wouldn’t understand it.”

            Robby didn’t interrupt. He let her sit in that silence, let the tears fall. One thing Y/N taught him was active listening and how beneficial it was. But it was so rare to see Y/N like this, how she talked like this. Her truth that isn’t jokes, humour, and smirks. Her world was beautiful now, he knew that. But the way she spoke broke him internally. But this wasn’t a moment for laughter, but rather her talking about a grief that suited her.

            She sniffled hard and swiped her cheeks with the sleeve under her scrub top. “He wouldn’t understand it,” she whispered again, quieter this time. “He’s ex-military…we are survivors in different ways, but I don’t understand his trauma, and he wouldn’t understand mine. But he’s good. He’s cleaner in ways I never was. Sure, he may have combat fought and saw shit. But, never had to,” she shook her head, “never mind. He’s a good man and I needed him, and I thank the universe everyday for us.”

            Robby nodded.

            “But I want a baby,” she whispered. “I realized it in the last twenty-four hours, and I can’t have a baby, Robby. But it doesn’t make sense for us to have a baby. He’s forty-nine. We are workaholics. I still love a good party. I smoke if Jack doesn’t catch me, drink like an Irishman at a pub and dance like it’s 1999,” she said as she stared ahead. “Beckett was my baby. He was my baby, and I became a mother at fourteen,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I think I just realised that.” She scoffed. “I have to be his mother because ours is a piece of fucking shit.”

            Robby swallowed thickly, chest tight, watching her unravel, not in chaos, but in clarity. A trust she hadn’t spoken aloud, maybe not even to herself.

            He pulled her closer to his side, holding her. “Yeah,” he whispered. A piece of him would want to say I would give you everything, but he knew Jack already did. “Beckett is yours. Might be a adult now–“

            “Don’t remind me,” she muttered. “He went to Jack two weeks ago for advice on oral sex.”

            Robby snickered, rolling his eyes. “You’re a good mom to him, Ace. You’ve done a good damn job.”

            Y/N looked at him, and he looked at her. “You’re a good man, Michael. In another life, I’d give you what you wanted,” she whispered, and he nodded.

            “In another life, Ace.”

            Then she scoffs. “God, I’m turning into an intern or a med student, crying in the ambulance bay,” she muttered before letting out a loud, real laugh.

            Robby smirked. “Welcome to the club. Took you long enough. They meet daily. Dana brings them muffins.”

            She glared at him. “I’m a nurse, not a goddamn med student. Crying is for the weak,” she barked but then smirked.

            “So judgmental, the rookies need to feel, Ace.”

            Their eyes were still looking at one another. “Do you think Jack would be mad if I didn’t tell him right away? Tell him when I’m ok?”

            Robby shook his head. “I would be ok with that,” he whispered but then sighed. “But Jack, he’d wouldn’t be mad, he’d be upset that you went through this alone.”

            She nodded. “He would say his classic line. I literally have a quote diary for him,” she muttered with a smile. “He would say,” she began and looked at Robby, clearing her throat for her best Jack impression, “it’s in the diary, ‘Dove…I’m not mad. I’m disappointed.’ Then he would be like, ‘Not in you, but in me. That I wasn’t there, but also that you went through this alone,’ isn’t that a Jack saying.” She smirked, proud of herself. Robby stared at her for a moment before nodding and chuckling.

            “You’re right on point, Ace.”

            “God, I know. I’ve been practising,” she hummed, smirking and sending him a wink and nudging his shoulder. “Anyway,” she whispered moments later. “You’re the Chief, fuck off and save lives.”

            He looked at her again and nodded. “You right?” he asked, nudging her.

            She looked at him for a moment, finding her words then broke in a smile. “I need a bloody case.”

            “Don’t jinx it.”

            “I need them alive. But like a good adrenaline rush. Earlier, when you let me do that intubation,” she hummed, nudging him again, “convincing me to join the daylight?”

            “You were moved to day shifts ten days ago,” he stated nonchalantly.

            “So, I can always change. You are on salary, me…well, hourly.” Then she smirked. “I love you, Cowboy, but like, you need to convince me to stay on the day. Jack lets me do way more on our shift.”

            He raised a brow, “It’s day. I can’t let you play being a doctor,” he stated. “Hate to break it to you, Ace, but you have a BSN, not an MD.”

            “Well, fuck you too, Robby.”             They stayed silent for moment. Then she smiled. “Hey, Cowboy?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Thanks for the mint,” she said with a smile, holding up the wrapper like a prize. “It helped. But not like a cigarette though.”

            He chuckled. “Well, if you stay on days, I’ll buy you a pack and store it in my locker for when you need them. But you can only smoke between 8am-6pm before Jack comes.”

            She smirks. “Marlboro lights, Cowboy. Take notes,” she hummed, winking.

            He nodded as she dropped her hold. “Locked in mind, Ace,” he hummed, smirking.          She nodded. “Go, save lives. I’ll be there in two.”

            He nodded, kissing the side of her temple before squeezing her arm and walking away. For a second, he paused, turning on his toes to look at her. “I may be good friends with Jack, but talk to me, ok? We are friends.”

            She smirked. “More than friends. Great friends, Cowboy. I’ll call you if I need you,” she muttered then lowered her voice, “better fucking do it to me if you need me.”

            He stared at her, mouth dropping a second before nodding. “Affirmative.”

            She smirked, watching him walk away. “That’s my saying!” she called out.

taglist:

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-

Hope you enjoyed. xoxo

Ava <3

[followthebluebell]

cat behavior question:

both of my cats meow very loudly (like, "i could have sworn i got you fixed" levels of meowing) when theyre playing with toys on their own, usually when the toy is in their mouth (or in the case of one of them, if im not in the same room shes playing in).

my sisters cat doesnt do this, nor do they do it while theyre playing together or while im playing with them.

they drop it if i walk over to them so are they trying to alert me of the thing they caught??

theyve done this since i moved out about a year ago, but they didnt do it when we lived with my mom. but we went from a house with three dogs (one being a puppy) to a dog-free house (my girls are the only pets here). would it be because theyre in a less stressful environment??

any insight is appreciated because its been confusing me for so long , tyia

ohhh, that's a victory meow. I mean, that's what I call it. I think it's much cuter sounding than 'holy shit, cat, please. I see you've caught the toy mousie. We all see it. All of China knows by now, it's three am, please be quiet'. Much snappier, too.

Some theorize that it's a way for mother cats to call to their kittens to say 'hey, dinner is here', but I really don't think so. Almost all of the mother-kitten calls that I've heard are much softer and involve far more trills. Even invitations to practice hunting (which involve bringing live prey back to the nest) are quite soft and trilling, unlike the very piercing Victory Meows.

I never heard a call like it while watching feral cat colonies either, so it seems to be a very housecat-centric thing. My personal theory is that it's just for us. The cats want us to know 'I have caught the thing! Rejoice!'. They don't care what happens to the thing AFTER we know, because that's not the point. The point is to INFORM us that they have done a thing.

I consider it a bid for attention. Your cat is actively soliciting your attention. Typically, if I have a cat doing a victory meow, I make a big deal of it. Let them know that they are very big and brave for killing the toy mousie and play for a while. If it happens at three am, that's a sign the cat is feeling understimulated and could use some playtime before bed. Or, if that fails, more self-enrichment toys to keep them busy.

[bonsubear]

You're Dead Everywhere But Here │ Invincible Variants x Female! Reader x Mainstream Invincible │#4

#1, #2, #3, #4, #?

CW: ooc, violence, mild gore

WC: 8k

You tried to use the Invincible variant that was holding you as a stepping stool to give you a jumping leap, but he quickly acted as he grabbed a hold of the heel of your foot.

You yelped in surprise, not expecting a quick reaction as you slipped and fell downwards. Not wanting you to fall, he used his free arm to wrap around your leg to catch you.

You were now dangled upside down in the air, pressed against the variant's muscular body.

You grunted, straining your neck to lift your head away from Mask’s legs so you wouldn't be smothered against them. You pressed against his knees using your hands to create more distance from the lower part of his body, extremely displeased at this bad positioning.

"Wait, wait a minute!" He stumbled; his voice was close to a begging tone as he had a firm but soft grip on you. It was evident that Mask didn't want to hurt you, though you didn't care as you thrashed wildly against his hold, wanting nothing more than to get away from the man.

Trying to loosen the grip he had was strenuous with how this positioning actively worked against you, making it hard to get out of.

It felt like you were a fish caught by a hook—no matter how much you struggled his grip didn’t let up. Hell, it felt like the more you did the more he made sure to hold you even tighter.

"Fucking shit! —Let go of me!" You yelled through gritted teeth as you tried to look up as you kicked your legs wildly, though it was difficult to do so with how close your two bodies were.

"Just listen to me, I won't hurt you—I want to help you!"

You clicked your tongue, shaking your head. "I am not finding out what your sick definition of help is!" You retorted, refusing to even play with the idea of hearing what this blue and black variant had to say.

It would be a very stupid and bad decision to spend one more second with this Invincible variant, especially with how "great" the previous interactions with the others were.

It was really absurd, incredibly ridiculous, and absolutely infuriated you to your core. Being caught off guard and captured, then thrown into a dingy prison basement, and then to top it all off being used as an asset against your will was already upsetting.

But it didn't just stop there—your supposed opponents that the G.D.A told you to fight were some deranged, mentally ill freaks that wanted nothing more to push their delusions onto you because they apparently had a relationship with—well, you?

When you went searching for Invincibles to kill and find the perfect murder method for your own Invincible, you were expecting a fight. A brutal, disastrous fight where you were crowned victorious in the end.

That’s how all fights go—how all fights should go. It was the basic formula known to man.

Instead, it was some big reunion where they all drooled over you like a bunch of slobbery dogs looking at their long-lost favorite toy.

You would’ve rather been beaten to death then ever go through that again!  

Each fiber of your being wanted to run away and come back with a flame thrower to kill each single one of them, exterminating their annoying asses to guarantee you’ll never see them again.

Especially that black and yellow degenerate.

"Okay, okay!" He panicked, "I can see how this looks but you have to trust me!" Mask desperately pleaded, a whine scratching at the back of his throat as you continued to fight against him. "I got you away from the others, they're way worse—"

"Oh!" You rolled your eyes, a scoff quick to escape your throat. "My hero, my hero! Thank you so much for rescuing me!"

You clasped your hands together, each word dripping in sarcasm. "Say, what do you want as your reward? Money?" You asked before pausing for dramatic effect. You let out a wild fake gasp. "Oh, of course not! Me, right?"

Mask was taken aback with that witty response, defensive words choking in his throat as his cheeks heated up underneath his black mask. "No! (Y/N)—No, I—that's not what's happening!"

You furrowed your brows, digging your fingernails in his knees. "Either way, I don't want to fucking know what is happening!" You replied, spitting out the curse word with venom.

You brought your head close to his leg, opening your jaw wide. You clamped your teeth down hard, making sure to make it hurt as much as it can. Your teeth sunk into his skin through the thin layer of spandex, the soft sensation yet sturdy muscle meeting your mouth.

The Invincible variant gasped in shock, not expecting the sharp sensation of your teeth to dig inside his leg. His grip loosened, allowing you to finally wiggle out of his grasp.

Even though his mind didn't know how to react to this, his body certainly did. His foot jerked to your face, and before you could raise your hand to block it his foot already contacted the top of your forehead.

It was immediate, and your head swung backwards from the kick.

It didn't take you long for you to hit the ground, the road splitting in half as you were smacked to the ground—rolling like an unstoppable boulder.

You crashed into a fire hydrant that stopped your momentum, but at a consequence of it busting open and water gushing out everywhere. The water sprayed on the ruined road, the cracked sidewalk, and onto you.

Your prison jumpsuit quickly became soaked with water from the broken fire hydrant, the loose fabric sticking to your skin making it hug your silhouette.

At first, Mask didn't realize what he had done—watching you crash into the fire hydrant not registering that he had been the one to be the cause. When he finally realized, he was fast to descend down.

"I'm, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to kick you like that, I don't even know why I—are you okay?!" He hurriedly rushed to your side, crouching as his eyes looked at your forehead that was forming a noticeable bump.

Water still escaped from the fire hydrant, but it turned into a light lawn spray as he looked at you.

Your eyes hazily opened, pushing yourself up using your elbows. You slapped a hand on your forehead, your brain feeling like it shifted with how hard the kick was. You winced, jumping at how there was already a bump forming.

The variant next to you was repeating apologies, reciting them like scriptures. You couldn't really pay attention, your blurry vision taking their time to adjust as your hearing made everything around you, particularly Mask's voice, sound like white noise.

"—let's get you somewhere safe," Mask hurriedly looked around before landing his eyes on you again, "someone might've heard that. We have to go." He spoke with urgency, placing a careful hand behind your back.

Your blurry vision quickly became clear, and hearing returned to your ears, your healing properties finally kicking in and fixing the damage that had been done to you. The bump that was rapidly swelling on your forehead also died down, returning to the same level as the rest of your skin.

You blinked, your eyes finally trailing to the Invincible variant.

He was too close for comfort, and you tensed as you felt the hand that was cupped on your back. Your gaze moved to his face, and his goggles were completely void of glass besides the small remnants that edged the outline.

His brown eyes were on full display, and they looked deeply into yours as if they were the only thing worth peering into. It was clear as day how much blind affection, softness, and worry filled those eyes.

It made your skin crawl to be viewed with so much tender emotions for so many reasons, one of them being that you knew it wasn't directed towards you. It was someone else who was a different version of you that got to experience another life than the one you have currently.

You felt like a second rate to some weaker version of you that died. A version of you that didn't even have powers.

Though you guess if you had to admit you were a speck jealous. Those versions of you probably had normal lives, normal hobbies, normal jobs—normal everything. Even if their life wasn’t that pretty, it probably was better than what your life was right now.

Although that small trace of jealousy disappeared as soon as you remembered they had the misfortune of dating Invincible. The Invincible variants were whack, crazy, and probably made their lives a living hell.

You grimaced and shrunk away as he reached a hand out to you, aiming to caress your forehead with his blue gloves. Your face contorted into a glare, your hand flying to secure his wrist and fling him behind you like he weighed nothing but a grain of salt.

Mask was flung inside an empty cafe, breaking through the brick wall and through the marble counter. A pot of cold coffee that was abandoned at the workstation during evacuation fell on his shoulder, pouring out and staining the side of his suit.

You pulled yourself up, the soaked clothing making you shiver uncomfortably. I need to change out of this.

You looked around to see where you were. Even though the surrounding buildings and structures were decimated and resembled more of an apocalypse than a functioning city—you thankfully were able to recognize what part of Chicago you were in.

You squinted, trying to jog your memory. You had made secret deserted spaces that people and the city itself forgot existed as hide outs, places for you to retreat and hide from whenever you were finished doing your routine destruction and "rough housing" with civilians.

That's how you were able to run and disappear so fast whenever superheroes tried to capture you during your "hobby". It was funny hearing them frustrated and angry when you slipped away, their muffled voices coming behind the entrance of one of your many hideouts whenever they walked past one.

At least, that's how it used to be. Other superheroes seemed to have moved on from you, the only super showing up to stop your reenactment of Godzilla movies on the city before being locked up behind bars was Invincible.

...

It was odd, honestly.

To totally toot your own horn, even though you were a regular menace and an everyday pain in the ass that everyone became "use" to—you were still that, a menace.

You knew that the secret organization sent any hero near your vicinity to deal with you before you could cause any more indirect casualties—but they seemed to have changed their mind one day and only sent Invincible.

Sure, he stopped you each time—but it must’ve not been efficient to send him every time with how quick you were to get to wrecking. There was no way he was the closest to you every single time with how you made sure to pick different spots to remain unpredictable.

If you didn't know any better, it felt like he called dibs on you.

You couldn’t help but think that because there were multiple times where he unknowingly stood near a concealed hideout you were in. It was easy to eavesdrop him conversing with himself, overhearing mutters and incoherent whispers.

His mutters were always along the lines of hoping you were okay, that you'd heal and recover quickly, that he hoped he made a good impression this time, and something about how he should stop running to you?

You got a slow, sinking feeling form into your stomach as you thought more about this world's Invincible.

He was always weird, treating you differently from other villains. You always chalked it up to be a potential hero complex, all superheroes having some mild form of it. That’s what you theorized, anyway.

Saving the city, saving civilians—it's inevitable that a shiny new hero thinks they can save a villain from the mess they are.

It wasn't the first time a super thought they could change you, "fix" you for the better. You always spat out a harsh refusal over and over again until they finally gave up. It was easy, just be an insensitive prick and they wished the kind words they spoke to you were punches instead.

Invincible was the longest, being stubborn about offering you redemption and friendship no matter how much you drilled it into him that you won't budge.

You literally beat it in him with each encounter, but he would show up once again with a smile whenever you were out and about.

You became used to seeing him, even with how annoyed you were each time. It became familiar to just randomly turn around and see him staring at you while you were punching holes inside a building, like a shadow waiting to be acknowledged.

However, he was still a good guy—at least, you think. Experiencing these different versions of him made your head wonder if he had more interest in you than he should have beyond just the potential hero complex and annoying moves for friendship.

It seemed like all his variants so far did, having some sort of romantic relationship with your counterparts. You didn't want to think it but—did your Invincible hold some sort of affection for you?

Of five variants of five realities, Invincible liked you in each one of them.

What's to say this reality was any different in that regard?

What's to say that he didn't view you more than a criminal?

What's to say that your Invincible wasn't like them?

You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to snap out of your train of thoughts.

That just wouldn't make sense, Invincible viewing you in a romantic way. It just logically wouldn't. You treated him lower than dirt more times than you can count—he'd have to have his own form of delusion to form lovey dovey thoughts for you.

You had to hold out hope that your Invincible was a good, weird, but normal superhero. If the Invincible variants were searching for you—you needed help getting them off your back until this war blows over somehow.

"Don't fucking touch her!" You heard Mask shout, and you turned around to see what he was screaming at. As you did, you were met face to face with an Invincible variant that had sneaked up behind you. They wore a similar get up to your Invincible's suit, but they had washed out colors and bigger goggles.

Your eyes widen, looking behind the newly appeared variant to see Mask approaching fast with his arms out. You were fast to sidestep, the newly appeared variant getting pushed to the ground where you previously stood.

You heard someone land behind you, and you turned around in a defensive stance to see that another Invincible variant had shown up.

Before he could get the chance to say anything, you jumped at him—socking him in the jaw. Twisting on your heel, you used the small momentum to kick his side. The variant was kicked to the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

You jumped backwards, your back hitting someone else's. You looked over your shoulder to see that it was Mask, his fists raised ready to fight the variant he had roughly pushed aside.

Shifting your head to look at the sky. There were two more variants that were preparing to throw themselves at you, both having different versions of the yellow and blue Invincible suit that strayed far from the original.

You clicked your tongue, pressing your back further into Mask's as you knew if you fought them all by yourself, you'd be in deep shit. "If you're serious about helping me—then you'll help me get out of this alive. Then you'll fuck off and leave me alone."

"I can do the first one but..." His voice was muffled behind his mask, hesitance clear in his voice. His brown eyes flickered behind him, your hair in his view and the press of your back sending shivers down his spine.

Mask breath wavered, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from you to refocus on the Invincible variant that was picking themselves up from the floor.

"I won't do the second one. I'm sorry. I'm not leaving you."

Mark huffed, trying to fight off the exhaustion that was threatening to overtake his body. He didn't know how long he was fighting these evil versions of him, but it must've been less than an hour with how the sky didn't shift to a different hue at all.

They were doing a number on him and to each other with how they were all strained in some way. Ragged breathing, minute slower movements, and taking any opportunity to catch themselves before jumping back into the chaotic fight.

The only variants that didn't seem completely worn out were Viltrum and Sinister—but even then, the two seemed out of it like the rest of them were.

"Are you kidding me with this bullshit!" Mohawk Mark screeched, his snarky voice making every variant pause. "Why the fuck are you fighting us?" He pointed, hovering next to Omni-Mark whose red cape was half torn.

Mark jumped, not expecting everyone to collectively stop fighting to look at who Mohawk was pointing at—which was him.

They all took in Mohawk's words, being interested to know the answer to his question. Either that or they were taking advantage of the rare stillness.

"What, what do you think!" He stuttered out, his voice squeezing as his body became more agitated than it already was. Mark felt on edge, like each nerve of his body was exposed. "You all think that you can just kidnap (Y/N)! She doesn't belong to either of you!"

"She doesn't belong to you either." Omni pointed out, his eyes narrowing at Mark with haughtiness. "Please, remind me again, what relationship do you two have?" He quipped, tilting his head in amusement.

Mark felt a lump form in his throat, his whole body feeling like someone had just ripped off his skin. Being reminded that these evil versions of him had something that he didn't have was painful—like he was being punished.

To add more salt to the wound that the red and white variant had opened, Mohawk jumped at the opportunity to rub it in Mainstream Mark's face on what he didn't have and ever got to experience—you.

"She was my girlfriend—got together senior year of high school and continued dating when she went to college." He let out an airy laugh, gesturing at the lower part of his body with both hands. "Suck it."

Viltrum took the surprise pause of the fight to add in his own relationship with you, tone flat but lighthearted—an invisible smile on his lips. "She was my wife. I met her the first time I went to Earth on the rooftop of her apartment complex."

His eyes flickered to the punk-style Invincible, the mention of college making him remember something. "... It was after she dropped out."

Sinister laughed, a playful grin gracing his lips. "Pfft, those are stupid. My bunny was an inspiring journalist who wanted to bring me to 'justice'—oh, how it was practically destiny that she landed herself to be my plaything." His hands twitched, thinking back on the first time he met you.

A smug, almost shit eating grin danced on his lips. "I could tell it made her feel alive, even through her senseless wailing. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, that bitch enjoyed me as much as I enjoyed her."

Omni shook his head, waving his hand as if all the words that the others spoke were meaningless. "She was my pet, the only perfect thing that could be my wife.

His lip quirked upwards, recalling the first time he saw you. "It was a long process to domesticate her, but it was worth everything." He chuckled before his smile faltered, transitioning to a frown.

"Oh, and we had a child together." He shrugged his shoulders before continuing, speaking casually like it was nothing too extraordinary.

He seemed displeased to have remembered that fact, his expression turning sour. "Shame there wasn't much use for it. Got in my way more than being convenient."

Mark choked on nothing when he heard that, his soul feeling like it got kicked out of his body as he tried to recover from the shock.

He burned his stare in the variant that resembled the suit his father once wore like he had just grown two heads.

"Child? —Child?!" He screamed, shaking his head as his mind was swirling with all this information that hit him at once.

Viltrum huffed hearing that, avoiding looking at Omni. "(Y/N) and I would've produced a child eventually." He murmured, defending himself like it was some sort of competition to who hit more milestones with you.

"Ugh, that's pointless! Why have a child?" Sinister rolled his eyes, thinking that it was absolutely absurd that his counterparts would think of having an offspring. His posture was relaxed as he voiced his thoughts. "Her body should only be available to me, not something else."

He hummed, as if agreeing with Sinister, "It was a good enrichment for a while, then the thing got annoying." Omni explained. "Didn't want to keep it around anymore."

"Anymore? The fuck that's supposed to mean?" Mohawk questioned, both hands settled on his hips. With how he phrased it, he didn't think it was farfetched to assume that his counterpart did something horrible to the child.

Omni-Mark stayed silent, not responding as he crossed his arms. That earned a raised brow from Mohawk, suspicion surfacing through his sharp features.

Mark finally snapped out of his shell shock, interrupting the variants' small conversation. "Fine, maybe I don't have a relationship with her like you guys had." He began reasoning, his eyes blinking fast behind his lens.

"But that doesn't mean I don't care about her, that doesn't mean I don't want her just as much as you all do—probably even more!" He gestured, shaking his head frantically as he raised the volume of his voice the more he continued his speech.

"I want to be close to her, I want her to be mine, I want her to..." His voice died down, closing his eyes before opening them again, "to feel for me like I do for her." Mark confessed in a hushed tone.

The words escaped from him faster than he could think of them. "I like her." He admitted, the complicated feelings that he had dealt with for so long surfacing brightly without being pushed down into the void of denial.

It was like a wave of clarity washed over him, crashing down on him so unexpectedly.

The first time he saw you, intense feelings bubbled up in him that he never experienced before. It only became worse the more he saw you, being consumed with the feelings that overtook his thoughts.

Mark Grayson began secretly begging the world to let him hear that you're out there so he can chase after you—the light at the end of the tunnel that only shows itself every once in a while.

Whenever he was with you, it was like his whole body was alive. He never felt like he ever truly lived before meeting you, each part of him waking up as soon as your presence basked his soul and body like sunlight.

It didn't make sense, there was no rhyme or reason why he felt this way. It was so wrong, but so endearingly right.

It felt so right just to be near you, look at you with so much affection and adoration that it was unmeasurable.

He drowned in thoughts about you that hijacked his mental space, each nook and cranny of his mind tied to you somehow. Each time he resisted and pulled away; he rushed back in with a tighter grip than before.

This pull never happened with Amber, his first girlfriend and the first person he'd ever been intimate with. As well as confess his superhero identity.

He liked her—loved her, cared for her and had feelings for her, but it wasn't the same. She just wasn't you.

Amber didn’t make him feel like his whole life purpose was fulfilled by just watching you do whatever, tracking your movements like he was writing them down in the folds of his brain. The physical contact he received from you, mostly violently, didn’t cause his body to soak up each centimeter of it like it was starved for it.

That subconsciously seeped into their relationship. He put so many things above Amber, missing so many places that she wanted him to be present because he was her boyfriend. He put their relationship on pause countless times to be a superhero, saving the world and saving lives—it was hard to drop it for her.

Though it came easy when it was for you, not for Amber.

Then there was Eve. She was a great person, helping Mark to understand what it truly was to be a superhero. She was there by his side and understood the hardships that the world relentlessly threw at him, giving him an open shoulder to talk about his problems.

It made sense their natural friendship blended into something more. She pulled him in—but not in the same way.

Eve didn't compare to you, not even close. Mark wanted her to, grounding himself and swallowing down this claim that she was the one—his girlfriend, his everything, his.

Everything else came secondary when it came to Eve. That was until he heard you were out there again instead of safely locked away, and suddenly it became easy to leave Eve behind when he was so adamant about staying with her.

He was so immersed in so many things and with Eve that when you were in that cell made by the G.D.A, his mind didn't wander to you so frequently anymore.

Mark didn't have to worry about the next time he'll see you again, always constantly on his feet ready to fly over to you.

Mark didn't have to worry about whether the last time he saw you was the final one, paranoid that you'll suddenly disappear without a trace, the chance to earn a mutual connection with you completely gone.

Mark didn't have to worry because he knew where you were and knew you were okay, safe, alive, and waiting. When things slowed down, he planned to visit you and show you that it was okay to give him a chance.

He wanted—no, he needed to earn your trust, earn your interest. That he could change your mind about rejecting him, even if it meant being a broken record that was on repeat.

Since, in truth, he wanted you to be his from the start.

It was unreasonable, illogical, but it felt more right than wrong. It was stupid, fucking pathetic even just like how Cecil said—but Mark couldn't help it. He tried to deny it for so long, but he couldn't anymore. It was impossible to.

It was love at first sight with you, and he wasn't going to let you get taken away. Mark wanted you to be his, and he'd push everything and everyone aside to get that opportunity.

He raised his voice again, stern and firm. "And I'm not going to let any of you take her just because you all failed at your chance. You don't get to have do overs with my (Y/N)."

"Aw, cute!" Mohawk mocked, lifting a hand to form a mouth puppet. "Practiced that speech of yours with good ol' buddy right hand?" He let out a forced coo, turning his mouth puppet into a circle—going up and down in a slow motion.

That earned a hearty chuckle from Sinister, but not Viltrum or Omni. It also didn't get a peep out of Mask either, not a single word coming from the masked Invincible variant.

"You almost sound as corny as—" He whipped his head around, searching for Mask who seemed to be not present. His mischievous grin dropped, and the others followed suit in looking around to spot the missing variant.

There were supposed to be five among them, yet there were only four. The yellow and black variant's relaxed posture disappeared as soon as the absence of one of them was brought to his attention, spinning around to confirm that the other's presence was truly not there.

"Jesus, where the fuck is the other one." Sinister growled, snapping his head to the direction of your body. He zoomed past, the others lagging behind to search for your unconscious body.

Mark drifted behind, his heart leaping to his throat.

The place where you were supposed to be—empty. Dried blood and the broken metal fragments of the collar were the only things there, greeting their eyes.

It didn't take a genius to piece together what happened, and it enraged Sinister how foolishly easy it was to sneak off with you.

Sinister fists clenched, screeching at the top of his lungs at a random direction. "You're dead!" His growly voice carried out, dragging his words across the distance.

Viltrum's hand grabbed a hold of the end of Omni's cape, draping it over his neck and pulling it towards him tightly. "Where did he take her." He spat out, eyes darkening as he tugged at the red cape he was using to strangle the variant.

Omni had quickly dug his fingers in between the space of the cape and neck, ensuring that he wouldn't be asphyxiated. "Your guess is as good as mine." He grunted, bringing his head forward before swinging it backwards—smacking Viltrum's face.

The white uniformed variant let go of his hold, and Omni-Mark whipped around to punch him in the chest, knocking him a few inches away.

"There goes the 'alliance!' Not that it was going to last long anyway. Ugh! He could be anywhere in this shithole." Mohawk grumbled; displeasure written on his face with how a deep frown embedded itself on his lips.

Suddenly, all the variants had something thrown at them, pushing them to the ground. A large wall from the collapsed building nearby was on top of them, the heavy weight grounding and crushing them.

Mark floated above them, having gone and grabbed a fallen chunk of a structure to pin them down. It wasn't going to delay them by much, but it gave him a running head start.

Each second counted to go searching for you and find the Invincible variant that stole you from right under his nose.

He propelled himself forward, flying in a random direction. His hair was pushed back as the wind howled against him; his forehead furrowed. Mark brought his hand to his ear, holding the earpiece that Cecil had given him.

"Donald? Donald are you there?" He asked while looking down, flying above structures. The city had been bulldozed by his evil counterparts, making it look more like a salvage yard rather than an international hub.

"-Uh, yes. I've—I've been here the entire time." Donald jumped, clearing his throat. He was surprised at being suddenly addressed, having been silent this entire time.

He had been observing safely at headquarters, watching through the screen. While the cameras themselves didn't have audio, Mark, having an earpiece, allowed him to finally listen to something.

Donald had been overhearing this entire time, and he had begun to think that the superhero had forgotten he was there. He felt out of place, and he couldn’t possibly interrupt him to remind Mark of his presence. He was saying vulnerable things that seemed rude to cutoff.

"Can you try and find (Y/N)?" Mark queried, scanning the streets below him for any sign of you.

He could care less that Donald may have overheard everything he said—it didn't matter. The time was ticking, and he was not going to leave you alone with your kidnapper nor let some other Invincible find you first.

"Mark I-" Donald shook his head, beginning to speak before being brashly interrupted.

"I don't give a shit what you have to say Donald! Just tell me if you can try and find her or not!" He snapped, his question shifting more into a demand.

Each letter of his words was as sharp as a blade, coming out of the blue which shocked the older man.

A static silence overcame the intercom, and Mark back tracked on his words. He didn't mean for it to come out so harsh. "I'm—I'm sorry Donald that's not what I meant. I didn't mean to-" He sucked in an unleveled breath, "Can you try and find her? Please?"

"... Sure thing, Mark."

You hissed, pulling your hand out of the esophagus that you had forcefully slid your hand into. You ripped the tube out, throwing it aside as the Invincible variant fell on his knees—clawing at the gaping hole in his neck.

The blood gushed out like a geyser as you took a step back, your chest rising and releasing a huff.

Your hair was a mess, tangled and mangled together from fighting the Invincible variants that tried their hardest to take you down and submit to them. They were relentless, and you were grateful that Mask mitigated the fight—doing his part and killing two eviler versions of himself.

You looked over to Mask, the variant lunging a rusty metal bar that he got from a hanging sign inside the chest cavity of his opponent. It hit straight to his pumping heart, a gritted gasp escaping their throat before the light in their eyes disappeared.

Small muscle memory jerks remained, but it died down as Mask dug the metal bar harder—twisting it for good measure. He then pulled it out effortlessly, a string of thick blood and cartilage following as he threw it aside.

Comparing yourself to him, you probably looked like absolute shit. There was hardly any blood on him, the only liquid there being was the dried coffee stain and the damp areas of his suit from the fire hydrant.

You, on the other hand, were covered in sticky blood. Your neck was painted in a deep shade of red, it dripped down from your neck to the collar of your prison uniform. It looked like a badly botched tie dye job, minus the metallic smell that made your skin crawl.

The tips of your hair were dipped in the liquid of death as well, the affected hair forming clumps at the end and hardening.

You hated killing—not because of a moral compass, merely because of the smell that made your stomach feel absolutely sick. You could never avoid making a huge mess, so your face was always met with the waft of blood exposed to oxygen.

You breathed heavily as you blinked to look around. All four variants who tried to jump you and Mask were dead, the one you just killed on the ground—the blood gushing out of his throat formed a puddle.

You swallowed, putting your hands on your knees to catch a breath. The odor of blood seeped into your nostrils, and you gagged as your stomach was not taking too kindly to that smell. It felt like you were going to throw up with how it twisted and swished.

“Do you feel sick?” Mask softly asked, hopping off the variant he had just shoved a rod through their chest.

He surveyed the slaughter you both caused, mentally noting the splattered blood along the concrete. “It’s because of the blood, isn’t it?”

You gagged once again, bringing a hand to pinch the tip of your nose. “Kind of.” You replied bluntly, not elaborating more on it.

“The odor I’m guessing?” He continued, and you gave him a funny glance. Mask rushed to explain, “In my world, you also hated the smell of blood. It always made you feel nauseous—I got good at not getting too much on me because of that." He laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

"Ding ding ding." You clapped lazily. "Never been a fan of it. It makes me want to projectile vomit everywhere."

"You did one time. It was on me though." He joked, but not really. It did actually happen when he rushed to the hospital after a fight because he promised to visit you at a specific time.

Mask had forgotten to change out of his blood-soaked suit with how panicked he was to arrive on time. The moment he appeared by your side from entering the window, the metallic smell hit your nose, and you puked all over him without sparing a second to register to face somewhere else.

"I won't do the second one. I'm sorry. I'm not leaving you."

Mask's words echoed in your mind, and you mentally rolled your eyes at the reminder. The only reason why he wanted to stick around was because he wanted to project the variant version of you onto you—all of the variants did.

It was annoying. However, with how more docile and suppressed he was compared to the others, you had the chance to break this illusion of his. It wasn't the first time you've successfully pushed someone away.

You bit your tongue, feeling a dry laugh threatening to escape. "Guess all I did there was be sick and puke on you. Very romantic." You sarcastically responded, looking over to see how the masked variant would react to what you're going to say. "With how weak she was, she should've died sooner."

"..."

"Honestly, she managed to pull the short stick of our childhood." You bitterly mentioned, a small flashback to your childhood played in your mind. "If whatever illness I had didn't take me immediately, I would’ve just done it myself. That would've been the best option."

"..."

"Not only was she weak, but she was also stupid too apparently." You added, continuing to watch how he'd react to your words. His eyes were boring into yours, and you didn't peel away from them as you simply glared.

You were ready to dodge anything he threw at you or came at you with, expectantly waiting to move your legs to dodge an incoming fist.

A second passed, then another, then another.

“... Haha!” He suddenly burst into a small fit of giggles, raising a hand to cover his mouth. Startled, you flinched, your eyes turning wide at this unexpected reaction. You couldn’t gauge if this was some kind of ploy to catch you off guard so he can hit you by surprise, but the more he laughed the more confused you got.

“Is something wrong with you?” You asked annoyed, not understanding why he was laughing. His giggles were dying down, and he brought his hand back down to his side. “You found that funny?” He shook his head frantically, taking a few steps towards you.

“No, no. I just—even though your different from my world you’re still the same.”

You scoffed, taking his statement as a lie. “Bullshit.”

“No, you are! When we first met,” Mask took your hand, cupping it into his. You jumped, but didn’t pull away as you were curious to what he had to say. “You said something so similar about yourself. Looking back on it, you were trying to drive me away.”

He sighed, “You thought that if you pushed out all the worst traits of yourself, no one would want to stick around.” he said in a low voice, almost recalling it in a fond. His thumb brushed gently over your knuckles, as if trying to soothe a wild animal.

The smooth texture of his gloves sent goosebumps down your spine, causing you to tense. I’m not listening to this. You thought, but his gaze held your body firmly into place, like a nail driven in wood.

"You were wrong, though," he whispered. "It just made me stay longer."

Your breath hitched, your heart squeezing at those words.

You yanked your hand back instinctively, your heart hammering against your ribs in an uneven rhythm. "Don't say shit like that," you snapped, your voice cracking halfway through the sentence. "You don't know me."

“I do.”

“No, you don’t!” You screamed, shaking your head. You stepped away from him, needing the distance like air in your lungs, "I'm not the same as her, I’m different," you muttered, your voice quieter, heavier now. "I'm stronger, I’m powerful—I’m worse."

He tilted his head, the smile slipping away from his face, replaced by something that looked almost like sadness. Not that you could tell with the mask that covered it, but his eyes expressed it. "Maybe you are," he agreed after a moment. "But I’m happy to learn.”

Shut up.

“I love each part of you, even the worse ones."

You stood there frozen, caught between cursing at him and lunging at him—but you did neither. You just stared at him, words caught in your throat and your hands flexing not knowing what to do.

Finally, you turned on your heel, going to the direction of the nearest hideout you owned. “Come on, we need to go.” You called out, walking without checking to see if he was following.

“We?” He repeated, hope filled in his voice as he quickly trailed behind you. Not bringing attention to the fact you dismissed everything he had just said, not bothered by it.

“Don’t misunderstand anything! This is momentary. I’m tired, exhausted, and clearly can’t think straight with how I’m even letting you tag along!” You grumbled; eyes stuck stared ahead. “You’re protecting me from whatever lunatic of an Invincible we come across.”

“I—”

“And don’t talk.” You whipped around, causing him to halt in his steps. “It lessens the chances of you saying stupid crap,” you hissed, referencing his whole cringe speech, “oh and, ten steps back when you’re walking with me—I don’t want you humping my leg.”

“Got it!” He happily chirped, overjoyed just to see you were allowing him to be with you without telling him to fuck off.

“Ughhh, shut up!” You swiveled back around, walking in a faster pace than before. You heard him begin walking at the distance you commanded him to follow, and you dug your nails in the palm of your hand.

This was stupid—you were going back on your word about how bad it was to spend one more second with this variant, yet here you were letting him follow you to your hideout. You wanted to pull your hair out with how you should be telling him to screw himself and to get lost, but you bit your tongue as you merely continued strolling.

Even worse, your cheeks were a tad warm. You hated what he said seemed to affect you. You tried to ignore how your heart was softly rattling against your chest, taking deep inhales and exhales to calm it.

Maybe the forced proximity of being near crazy variants were beginning to rub off their lunacy onto you, making your headspace cloudy.

At least it was only down to one.

An Invincible was standing on the roof of a building, peering down the alleyway that you and Mask were walking in.

He wore an exact replica of this world’s Invincible suit; the one small difference was the fact his gloves were blue at the end of his knuckles. The male also didn’t have the mask on, blood scattered on his face and chest.

His eyes were downcast, his hand over the other, holding it as he stared at you.

It was a way to self-soothe himself, no longer having his favorite person in the whole world to hold his hand anymore. His heart ached at that, breaking more than it already was.

His eyes burned thinking back on how his partner was forever gone—he’ll never see that handsome face ever again, the witty personality, and the easygoing jokes that always made him feel better.

The Invincible would’ve started crying if he hadn’t already squeezed out each tear already. He didn’t think he’d be able to produce any more with how hollow he felt, completely dried out.

He continued to watch intently, having witnessed the brutality you caused minutes prior. He didn’t mean to come across the scene, having been just wandering around aimlessly after doing the orders that Angstrom had instructed him and many others to do.

The variant had stayed silent, watching from a safe distance. He hadn’t expected to find you here, but he supposed it made sense.

The Invincible had been preoccupied thinking about his special one that his mind didn’t think to remind him about you until now.

You were special too. A good, dear friend. You were the second person to truly understand him and be by his side through everything. Accepting who he was and supporting him.

Guilt and grief swelled in his chest as he found himself hovering to you just a few feet away. You were completely unaware of the presence that was stalking you as you silently fumed at the predicament you were in.

Finding you made the emotional weariness drag him down further, like weights were placed upon his chest.

Seeing you made him think of—

“... I miss William...” He croaked out, his voice sounding like it hadn’t been used for such a long time. He whispered out the name William like it was something sacred, holding the name of his dead lover with so much tenderness.

William was his boyfriend and his first best friend, the person he cared so deeply about more than himself.

You were his second best friend, the only other person in his life that he relied on. The three of you were a great trio that protected each other, being brought together by the wonderous work of his late boyfriend.

You died while trying to protect Wiliam, Nolan determined to kill the boy Mark was in love with—saying that having a big of a distraction as William would only hinder him from doing what his life’s purpose was.

There was only so much that you can do against a viltrumite while having the capabilities of being human. You were completely butchered, the overkill that Nolan did was unfathomable. William’s death was less severe, you stood between him and the painful ending he would’ve originally received.

He lost the two most important people in his life that day, dying next to each other.

All three of you promised to be together in the future, live in the same neighborhood so that every day whenever you and William wanted, you’ll all get together and hangout. Him and William would live in a cozy house just for the two of him, and you would be the next-door neighbor with the key to let yourself in anytime.

That’s what you three had promised—before Nolan ripped and tore that promise apart like it meant nothing.

Maskless Mark eyes shifted to the variant that had his face completely covered, squinting his eyes. He was too late to protect you and William, but he wasn’t going to repeat that same mistake with this dimension’s version of you.

William would’ve wanted him to protect you too—protect you from a stranger. He could practically hear his boyfriend’s nagging voice on how he shouldn’t leave (Y/N) alone with a guy, talking about how creeps would take any opportunity to snatch you away simply because you were a beautiful girl.

He would say that you didn’t have the privilege like him and Mark did to just wander around because of the absence of a dick in your pants.

His body was suddenly energized, pacing closer behind you both above the tall buildings. For the first time since the death of you and William, he felt something other than sadness and grief. He felt happy.

It was... nice to be reunited with a friend.  

yawns me when I have to write plot progression🥱🥱

I blinked and suddenly two weeks passed 💀 I ain’t going to get into this habit trust 🤞🏽

UHH BUT BEING FR I LOST TRACK OF TIME MY BAD YALL… feel embarrassed LOL posting this with my eyes closed idc 💔

anyway we ALL CRACKING WILLIAM

Tag List for All Works: @calicocat-ina-tuxedo

Tag List for DE: @1abi, @silkyspiders, @simply-aurora, @pengmar, @amethysttigerfigurine, @blkflowergrl, @byteme05, @itzmeme, @nessielovesfood, @madilynnylidam, @strawberryvermelhos, @zomqiez, @jupiterswrld, @pookiei-bookie, @lizzyzzn, @howaboutthisblr, @m4n-eat3r, @bakugouswh0r3, @anamiranda7383, @sophrickingfunny, @hoonobono, @shin0buk1nn1e, @91-kya, @americanairlinesdotcom, @optimistic-but-very-realistic

Tag Once: @pixviee, @xesper

(If you would like to be removed, just tell me!💕)

[augustsblossom]

I need to make classmate! Mark Grayson happen it is rotting my brain

── ── ── ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ── ── ──

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ main! Mark Grayson x fem! reader

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ cw: mark doesn’t have powers, marks lowkey a perv, reader is super girly, kind of insinuates that Mark jerks it LOLLL, reader teases mark some bit lolol

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ a/n: hiii I promise I will get to my requests I’ve just been needing to clear my drafts! This also is a pretty common fic I see with characters I’m not for sure if there is one of Mark but creds to the people that did it first! Inbox is still open if you would like to see anything else 💋

── ── ── ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ── ── ──

classmate! Mark who is one of the biggest geeks at school, he’s like super hot but still people get a laugh or two when they see him reading Seance Dog

classmate! Mark who takes a chemistry class with you and is super smart, he turns in his tests before anyone else and people come to him for help

classmate! Mark who notices you ALL THE TIME. When you walk into class he is always eyeing you to see which outfit you picked out. He likes to think you pick them for him, buuuttttt

classmate! Mark who noticed you’re into girly stuff. A lot of your outfits resemble just true girlyness and he adores all of them. One day you wore a matching Juicy Couture tracksuit and he LOSSSTT ITT. It hugged your curves perfectly and left some imagination for him to use tonight

classmate! Mark who almost shits himself when you guys get paired for a project. Your professer assigned you guys together and when she called out the names he looked over to see you applying your cherry Victoria’s Secret lipgloss. He was in awe with just how truly unbothered you were

classmate! Mark who hypes himself up to ask if you wanted to go to his place to work on it. He took a quick few deep breaths and walked up to where you were sitting

“I know we don’t talk like a lot and it can be weird going to a strangers house but I was wondering if you wanted to work on our project at my place? I have like the whole thing to myself and-“

He rambled for a bit before shutting up and was waiting for an answer. You looked up at him just staring for a second before you respond

“Yeah, I’m down”

His heart might have just fell to his ass. God you were so confident and unbothered he was SO into it. And it didn’t help that the shirt you were wearing was a size smaller so your twins were suffocating and pushing for air

You weren’t oblivious to his actions and tone. You knew he liked you and you known for a while. But sometimes you liked to act oblivious so he would HAVE to push out of his comfort zone even more, it was a fun little game you played

classmate! Mark who lets you into his home and leads you to his room. He was ready to start the project and you guys got to work. To be honest he lowkey did all the work, you were tired and he didn’t mind! As long as he still had an imagination for the nights that kept him awake he would have no problem doing whatever you asked

classmate! Mark who when after you left he immediately got to his room to calm down. He truly couldn’t believe you were just in his home, with your sweet scent lingering on his bedsheets where you were sitting

classmate! Mark who then notices you left your jacket, and boy was he over the moon. Leaving your jacket helped his imagination feel more like a reality

You were just glad you could return the favor of him doing your project :)

[ventique18]

So they started sightseeing at Seaglass Park, which has a bit of a climb to see the sights below. It's very beautiful and everyone's breath is taken away, but Grim, being the littlest guy with the shortest legs, starts complaining.

Jade: "There's a bench over there. You can sit down for a bit while admiring the sights."

Grim: "Nyahaha, I call dibs!"

Riddle: "You don't have to run. The bench is big enough for all of us."

OMFG all of them are going to sit side by side? Like a happy group of BEST FRIENDS? WWWWWWWW

Jade: "I won't lose."

Yuu: "No way I'd settle for less than first place!"

Grim, Jade, and Yuu started racing 😂

All of them started scrambling to be first to the bench LMFAOOOOO

NRC when they find an opportunity to fight each other for any reason:

Malleus: "All of us ended up racing."

Riddle: "All I could think of was that I didn't want to lose....."

Rook: "Hehehe, it feels like being a child again."

They don't say who won the race though. I'm guessing Riddle didn't, at least. 😂

Malleus then notices that this looks like a popular walking trail, with not just people, but dogs as well. Jade explains that according to the legends, the Mermaid Princess' human husband had a dog so brave that without worrying for his own safety, jumped to the see to save his owner. Dogs are seen as lovely pets in that place because of that.

Jade: "As there are no dogs under the sea, I haven't seen one in a long time...."

Jade: "I remember being so excited the first time I saw so many dogs walking this city."

He likes dogs? That would be so cute but I don't trust that face?

Malleus: "Indeed. I understand the joy of witnessing a completely different culture first-hand very well."

Jade: "Yes... Ah, look. There's a dog over there as well!"

Rook: "That's not a dog. It's a stray cat."

?????????? JADE CONFUSED A CAT WITH A DOG 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Jade: "Oh, is that right?"

Malleus: "What an absurd man."

Riddle: "Malleus-senpai. Calm down...!"

😭😭😭 Malleus got mad at Jade because he confused a dog and a cat???? Did he get triggered because people would also call him a lizard? 😭😭😭😭😭 Tbf since fae are very in-tune with nature, this might as well be racism for them LMFAOOOO

Edit: meltycatthing in the comments mentioned that it's probably a reference to him getting angry at people not knowing the difference between a Gargoyle and a Grotesque!

Jade then shares that the city also holds dog races and grooming contests.

Jade: "Grim, you should participate as well."

Grim: "I'M NOT A DOG!"

Jade: "How unfortunate. I heard that the last winner was treated to a lavish meal....."

Grim: "Wha..... Really? Where do I sign up?"

Riddle: "Have you no dignity?"

GRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIM 🐕

[consistantly-changing]

[Image descriptions in order: a Reddit post titled "AITAH for “training” a guy "like a dog"?" The post says "I (23F) have recently started seeing this guy (26M). he's super pretty, but he's kind of emotionally unavailable and he's alluded to an unstable/unhealthy childhood.

for context, i also work w socializing abused and neglected dogs at a local shelter and i think how much time i spend w the dogs is impacting the way i interact w ppl.

when we were on a date i started subconsciously making mental notes abt him like the notes id make abt a dog. for example, i noticed when we went out to dinner i noticed he ate really quickly and was very anti-sharing (resource guarding) but when i offered to pay and suggested dessert it seemed to make him really happy and a little calmer (food-motivated); he's really particular about his car (territorial/crate aggression); he likes when i pick where we go/what we do (eager to please), etc. so, ive started using the tactics id use on a dog w similar problems.

recently a friend (22F) pointed out that it's weird that i keep peanut M&Ms on me w the specific purpose of offering the guy one when i see him, and offering them again whenever i can tell he feels vulnerable. she said that im being an asshole bc he's a person, not a dog so i shouldn't be “training him like one.”

i don't think that's fair, im not trying to control him or anything, i just want him to feel comfortable w me the same way i need the animals im helping to be comfortable w me. humans and animals aren't THAT diff after all, we all just want to feel safe and cared for. the guy hasn't noticed yet as far as i can tell. the problem is, my “technique” is yielding really positive results.

AITAH? should i stop?"]

[Two screenshots of an update post or edit, which say, "UPDATES/ CLARIFICATIONS

for everyone asking me if i've seen the big bang theory ep w this plotline: i have not

for everyone saying they think i am autistic: probably, yeah. i haven't been tested but maybe i should

i do not have loose m&ms in my pocket bc then they'd get all melty and gross — i keep them in a bag in my purse

ik the title was clickbait-y so i want to make some things clear. i didn't think of it as “training" til my friend said it was like i was training him, and that made me feel weird (and it's why i made the post)

i am not and never have been trying to "modify" behavior. what i noticed in him and what i notice in animals were stress responses. we only get aggressive over our food if we believe someone's gonna take it away. we get defensive over our spaces if we reasonably feel like they'll be violated. applies to both animals and ppl. i was trying to establish trust the way i best know how to lol

if he never shared fries and never wanted to park next to a car w wide doors again, that'd be fine w me tbh. i know he's not a dog, so he's not at risk of being euthanized or something]

["ON TO THE UPDATE PROPER YAY!

so, to all the ppl who told me i should tell him what im doing — you were right and that's what i did. turns out i was VERY WRONG abt him not noticing what i was doing — he apparently put two and two together pretty quickly after i started doing it. he didn't tell me he was on to me tho, bc he liked it and was worried id get embarrassed and stop if i knew that he knew. so we talked it out and it ended up not being a very big deal at all and im probably gonna keep having m&ms bc they're good. that's all i got for yall lol"]

sickens me to my stomach. how dare this guy get to live my dream.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hello again. I have another idea that occurred to me during class. Does ENA know what a birthday is? It's been so long since I watched the series. If she does know, she's probably never had one for herself (definitely not a good one). What if reader found out and was like "no, you're existence is worth celebrating and I'm glad you are in my life. I'm gonna do something to prove it." I feel like this idea fits more with Series!ENA, but I think BBQ!ENA would also benefit from not having her point of existence for someone be just endless tasks for once. Thoughts on this? Don't worry if you have too many requests to do right now, I just wanted to once again throw my thoughts out there. Please have a good day/night!

It's okay! I love all these ideas ya'll are giving me. I'd like to think she does, but she's never had a good one nor one worth remembering.

But I'll do both girlies justice bc I want them to be happy <3

......

Series!Ena

It's just a normal rainy day, where you and Ena were taking shelter inside your home. You were watching a show on the 32-Bit television while she was staring at your calendar like it was the morning paper.

"[Y/n], it's come to my attention that you have a specific date marked here that is rapidly approaching."

"Um..I have several things marked on that calendar, Ena." You pause the episode to look at her. "You're gonna have to be more specific than that."

"Why, I'm referring to your birthday, of course!" Her feminine voice giggles, before switching back to her more masculine tone. "Got any special plans? Are you ready for the ritualistic songs and rites of gift-exchanges?"

"Erm...ready as I'll ever be, sweetheart."

"That's wonderful! But hmm....what day should my birthday be on this year?" She holds a marker up, looking over several dates with a quizzical expression. "June? October? February 29th? Or maybe---" You see her violently glitch into her sad form. "--nevewr! Because everyone threw my invitations away LAST yeawr!! All that time and effowt...GONE!! Just like I should be!" She slams her head down onto the table and sobs, tears and marker bleeding into the paper.

Once again, you were forced to learn something truly and utterly devastating about your girlfriend: she's never had a good birthday celebration.

Before meeting you, she was vaguely aware of the "tradition". And one random day last year, she declared it to be her birthday, simply because it felt very "birthdayish", and sent out as many invitations as she could.

Nobody else showed up, except Moony and a small hourglass dog that she kept hostage in her pocket dimension--both of whom stayed for merely five minutes before leaving her in front of a burnt turron, depressed beyond measure.

Ena told you offhand that people seemingly laughed at her invitations and rolled their eyes, claiming that her "annoying" existence wasn't worth any kind of celebration......but she acted like it didn't bother her until now.

She assumed it's because she got the day "wrong" and tried aiming for a different one this time, one that both you and her could agree upon.

But given her current wailing and the fact that you'll definitely have to order a new calendar soon....she was feeling pretty hopeless.

Luckily you're quick to come up with an idea, as you hated seeing your girlfriend like this. "Hey, how about we make it for tomorrow? I have something good planned."

"No, just fowget it. I-I'm not in the mood anymowe." She sniffles, looking at you. "M-My existence is worthless-"

"No, it may not mean a lot to some people...but it means a lot to me. More than you could possibly know." You insist, rubbing her back. "I want to celebrate you, Ena, because I love you and I'm so happy that you exist. I'm glad you're part of my life."

"...you're just saying thaaaat."

"No. I'll prove it to you. Let's just mark it down for tomorrow, okay? I promise you won't regret it." You give her a kiss, and for a moment, you see the white half of her face smile. Just barely.

"O...Okay.."

Tomorrow comes, and Ena expects nothing...yet you surprise her with turron, made from a recipe you acquired from a shady stall, decorated with blue and yellow candies and adorned with a pick featuring a popup ad that said "Happy Existence Day, ENA".

Since she's not a big fan of parties, it was just you two spending the day together and her getting calls from the few entities who tolerated her (Moony, Merci, Phindoll, etc.).

It's a great day, and you two end it going out for drinks, where she's switching between her drunk forms while ranting about how much she appreciated you (which is the most you've understood her while she was in that state), and giving you a lot of hugs and slurred words of affirmation.

But you know she means them with all her heart and soul, even if she forgets the next day.

She's so happy that her entire body stays yellow even as you both come home, and she hugs you and sincerely thanks you for proving her wrong.

BBQ!Ena

It started off as a harmless and innocent inquiry, not giving it much thought. "Weird question, Ena...but have you ever celebrated a birthday before?"

"Pfffft, have I ever taken a vacation?" Her Meanie side bluntly sneers back, staring at you as though she gave you a riddle to solve.

"Uh..not that I can-"

"CONGRATS!! You've just answered yourself! Want a gold star for that?!" She goes back to admiring the png of some unidentified organ floating between her hands, trying to determine its market value.

Although her face eventually flickers back to its Salesperson side, who appears a little guilty for her outburst. Her gaze lingers, eyes buzzing with curiosity and....a hint of longing and want.

"Apologies." She suddenly claps her hands, the organ turning into nothing but bloody ooze that dissolves into the soil. "What I meant to say was....no. I'm not familiar with such a tradition. Is the commemoration of one's existence a common practice in your workplace?"

If you're human, this is yet another simple question you could answer. But even if you weren't, you fully knew about birthdays and have celebrated some yourself, or other friends'.

Apparently, Ena doesn't even know what that entails, and/or believed hers was simply not recognized by others since her species isn't well-liked around here.

All her life, she's only ever known how to carry out endless tasks and never doubt the assignment. That was her M.O, and to take some random day off would make her Meanie side break out into a cold sweat.

But ever since that conversation, you've heard her uttering a specific date that seemed important. One that was coming up soon. She spoke of it in various ways: through her business cards she hands to clients who didn't wanna take them in the first place. Through graphs she sketches of your probabilities of success in a job, hidden in plot points. And even through hushed whispers when you're both cuddling, but she refused to elaborate further.

Either something really good or really horrible occurred on that date. It was 50/50 guess, but from what you've gathered, it was the day she broke free of her mannequin husk and formulated her own identity.

It seemed close enough to a birthday, so you rolled with it and began planning something for her behind the scenes (with Froggy's reluctant assistance).

You wanted her to know that you appreciated her existence. Meanie sometimes found it hard to see that, and Salesperson, while she understands and appreciates your appreciation, thinks you're mainly with her for the "business" and "workplace benefits"--so you had to prove both sides of her wrong.

You loved her for her, not for what she was capable of.

When that fated date arrived, you sent her an S.O.S, and she rendezvous at the scene (your house) asap, wondering what the emergency was.

Instead, she finds you and a simple surprise on the table. And for once...this talkative entity has no words.

While you weren't sure if turrons were an ENA's universal favorite, you took a shot in the dark and baked one with fluffy white powder and red candy sprinkles on top, adorning it with a pick that had a star that simply looked cool. It was small, as you didn't wanna risk messing up a big cake.

Froggy criticized your entire baking process, but you were proud of its result, and even prouder when your girlfriend took one bite, and her eyes lit up like the fourth of july.

Not only that, but you also gifted her a laminated photograph of your first assignment with Ena. It stood the test of time, covered in a few scratches here and there. She didn't even know you had a camera.

"Oh, I stole it actually. But I promised to pay them...........woah, are you crying??" You see her static tears getting on the turron, desaturating its vibrant color.

She still hasn't said a word, but she can't stop crying silently and trembling. And it scares you at first. You're convinced that you royally screwed this up and today was actually the worst day of her life--

Until her head floats a little more away from her body than usual to kiss you on the cheek.

Before Meanie takes over and lightly headbutts you. "Now look what you've done, you idiot! Getting me all sappy like this on my Existence Day is gonna cost you!" She snaps, even though she's fighting back a smile and more tears.

".....what's it gonna cost me?"

"C-Calculating........one hug will suffice." Salesperson mutters, sniffling.

"Oh! Alright. You had me worried there." You cradle her head in your arms, petting her hair. "So...I was right. Today's the day you, the love of my life, came into existence. I'm glad you were born, and I'm not listening to anyone--Genie or not--who says you should be punished for that."

Once again, you've managed to silence her, through words this time instead of actions. There's no back sass from Meanie. No business offers or quips from Salesperson.

All she does is close her eyes and allow herself this moment of joy.

You proved a big point: She is worth celebrating, and you made damn sure she knew that this was gonna become a yearly occurrence.

She won't use it as an excuse to slack off of work, but she's always curious as to what surprises you'll have waiting for her next time.

[eddieisashifter]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐆? — MY MARAUDERS REALITY

this is a brief tour of my bag in my maruaders era hogwarts dr! this bag has been with me though literally everything and she's only holding on due to mending enchantments I put on her when I first started to notice her descent. some of the stuff in her is...probably less than legal. but hey! snitches get stiches, alright? inspired by this post by @chaaistained and this one by @hrrtshape!!

my trusty messenger bag that i carry literally everywhere with me. you wouldn't catch me dead using just my pockets to carry all my shit. she's basically a staple of my appearance. anyway, let's open her up!

BUT FIRST——THE DECOR!

✦ my pinback buttons! the "kind hearted degenerate" was stolen from Sirius' patch jacket (I think he let me take it), the "cult leader" was a gift from barty because of course it fucking was, and the other two my sister, eden, and I found just outside of diagon alley (we fought over who got to keep them. I won, obviously. so, i display them proudly, she hates it).

✦ i also have my prefect pin stuck onto the strap of my bag because it's so much better to have on there than my robes. no one's gotten mad at me so whatever.

✦ the dice keychain was stolen from eden's room. I thought it was pretty and she hasn't missed it so

✦ the froggy keychain I found in a muggle shop and needed immediately. I may have a secret obsession with froggos, my friends may or may not be very aware of this fact. he also might be cursed, I swear I hear him ribbit when it gets quiet.

✦ the other keychain I found half-buried in a public park. no idea where it came from or how it got there.

ONTO THE POCKETS! my bag has four pockets on the outside, two that close and two that are just slots on the side. they're all full of shit.

LEFT FRONT POCKET

this pocket is entirely full of trash. literal trash. some of it is cute notes from my friends and such, but the other half is actual trash. I say I'm going to use it to junk journal, I don't. It just sits there in the pocket, unused. I refuse to clean it out.

but the notes!

✦ three fortunes from three fortune cookies that I got on three separate occasions at three different restaurants. — the first "you have the ability to see the bright side in things, do not lose that ability" I got on an outing with my family. it was a rough time all around and the whole dinner was tense, but getting that fortune just reaffirmed my belief in aiming for the best, even when it's unrealistic, so I kept it. — the "your love of music will be an important part of your life" I got on one of my first real dates with sirius. I already knew he dreamed of being a musician, so I took it as a sign we were going to work out. and well, it was correct. — finally, the "whatever you want to do, do it. there are only so many tomorrows" fortune found me when I was wrestling with my feelings. I hadn't intended to fall for remus, but I had. I didn't know what to do. but, I took this as a sign to just go for it and be true to my feelings. It worked out. so I kept it as a reminder, like I did with sirius' one.

✦ "I'll let you drag me to hell if it means you'll hold my hand" note that sirius passed me one day in the middle of class. like that wouldn't make me insane in public. stupid dog.

✦ "kind of a pretty boy, isn't he?" note that I found dropped on the ground in divination. when I picked it up, some girl turned beet red. amusing, really.

✦ "we are all haunted houses" note that I wrote on the corner of a notepad and tore out. I found it at the bottom of my bag weeks later. I cant for the life of me remember what I was talking about, though I think I was onto something.

✦ "not everything has to make sense. let it go. choose peace." note that was written at the top of one of my papers for divination class. professor was far too done with my constant questioning of why things worked the way they did.

✦ "just make it exist first, you can make it good later" sticky note that I wrote to stick onto my writing desk to try and help ward off my perfectionism. It remained there for years until I accidently knocked it down and it refused to stick up again. so, i shoved it into my bag with the others.

✦ "the memory is unclear but the feelings remain" written on a blank polaroid photo. barty accidently took a picture as he dropped my camera. evan wrote the words on the picture that came out. I think he thought he was being poetic. I kept it regardless.

✦ "I think you're afraid because we get along so well. I think it scares you." one of the notes sirius taunted me with in our rivals phase of our rivals to lovers arc. torn in two and carefully taped back together.

✦ "dear me, don't fall back into old patterns just because they're familiar. love, me." letter written for an assignment. that 'write a letter to your younger self' writing prompt nonsense? I didn't want to do it, so I wrote the first thing that came to my head. still got an O though.

✦ an unopened letter. the front says "open when fate decrees it". that trelawney girl got a cheshire smile when I picked it up. I've had it for five years.

✦ also a train ticket from my very first year of hogwarts

✦ other trash in this pocket includes: a to-do list that says "1. ace your o.w.ls, 2. take over the world", at least four salazar slytherin trading cards, a receipt from the record shop in hogsmede, a punch card from the three broomsticks with ten punches in it (I probably should use it at some point), a scrawled list of hexes that barty copied from the restricted section of the library, and a note I passed to reggie that says "do me a favor, kill your brother" that he threw back at me with a scrawled "NO." underneath.

RIGHT FRONT POCKET

the snack pouch, basically. if I'm hungry, this is where I'm reaching.

✦ a chocolate frog that's probably melted slightly with how long it's been in there. I think barty gave it to me on the train ride. it's probably still good, right?

✦ raven chocolates that are literally better than any wizarding candy, trust.

✦ jelly slugs because gummies are the superior form of candy

✦ also chai teabags because you never know when you might need it (also because I'm picky about my chai)

SIDE POCKETS

LEFT SIDE POCKET

✦ my round sunglasses that are basically my staple.

✦ the swiss army knife that eden has a matching one of. i enchanted it so that the blade doesn't grow dull. honestly, much better than a wand half the time, but don't tell anyone I said that.

✦ vampire pill box that has enchanted ibuprofen. thank you dorcas my love. one of these does 10x the effect as a regular without the damage to your internal organs or risk of an overdose.

RIGHT SIDE POCKET

✦ a crocheted chanel rose made for me by evan's sister, pandora. it's hella impressive actually.

✦ my trusty vivienne westwood lighter. used to be my mom's, I took it from her purse as a well rebellious thirteen year old. it also has a matching cigarette case that I also stole. i was having my kleptomaniac era. there is also skull bandages tucked inside the case.

INTERIOR POCKET

where i keep all the loose things that would get lost in the bottom of my bag otherwise.

✦ tiny bottles of banned potions that dorcas made for me. I make sure to keep the corks on very tightly.

✦ a jar of human teeth. no, I will not explain where I got them.

✦ jars of bones. not human (yet).

✦ intricate jar, full of enchanted, basically holy, water. for all your banishing needs. never summon anything you don't know how to get rid of.

✦ a jar of salt. for the same reason. also salt.

✦ tin of tiny candles for on-the-go spellwork because you never know when you might need it.

✦ tiny clay charms of tarot cards also made by pandora. she passed them to me in divination. she never did tell me why. they are pretty cute though.

MAIN POCKET

✦ a leatherbound journal full of all my secrets. jinxed, obviously. possibly with some that I would get in trouble for casting. their fault really for trying to snoop. includes detailed plans of world domination, lists of hexes and curses ordered by their usefulness, recounts of possibly prophetic dreams, and lists of very good numbers

✦ poetry journal for my midnight poetic ramblings. not jinxed, not yet. also includes my casebook recounts of strange romantic feelings, complete with red string.

✦ my trusty wand. black walnut and dragon heartstring, 12"

✦ a lace fan for when it gets far too hot to be legal. because I can't be sweating not in style

✦ a very illegal time-turner hidden inside a matchbox. I probably shouldn't have told you that I have that.

✦ a vintage comb that I call my tactical comb.

✦ my leather bat-wing wallet. one of the most important things in this bag

✦ my black makeup pouch that mary poppins would envy.

✦ my heavily annotated copy of "scottish fairy tales" that I've had with me since my first year of hogwarts. I think there's more notes and highlights than actual text. and the notes are more journal entries than actual annotations.

✦ tiny bird scissors I stole from madame pomfrey. they're for sewing. I don't do much sewing. but I can chase sirius around with them, threatening to cut the stitches on his patches. it's very amusing.

✦ an extra lighter, clipped onto the inside of my bag, just in case my trusty one ever breaks. so far, it hasn't.

✦ a special edition of the strange case of dr. jekyll and mr. hyde, my favorite book of all time. this edition was a gift from reggie, who knows my love of it.

✦ a fountain pen for my sudden bursts of inspirational musing. enchanted to never dry of ink and never need to dip it. I stole it from my older brother, alastair. I can't help it, he makes such good enchantments.

✦ a fancy flask. yes, of course there's alcohol in it. what did you take me for, a lightweight?

✦ vivienne westwood gloves for the colder months, an enchanted lining to keep your hands at the perfect temperature, not too hot and not too cold.

✦ the box of my trusty tarot cards. they always seem to call me out. they also have a bit of an attitude. typical.

✦ a coin that's engraved with "one more chapter" on one side and "go to bed" on the other. for very important dilemmas regarding my sleep schedule. do I ever listen to it when it lands on "go to bed"? no, of course not. don't tell me what to do.

WALLET

✦ my galleons. the wallet is linked to my vault at gringotts so I don't run out of money, because that would be embarrassing.

✦ photos of my friends and I. i know, I know, very sentimental of me. — photo of dorcas and eden from one of the slytherin common room parties — a photo of me, barty, and dorcas with a mall santa. he looks like he's being held hostage. — photo of me playing chess with dorcas (off camera) while barty lounges across the bed, pouting because he lost to me minutes ago. — photo of evan, me and reggie at one of our families' stupid summer galas. having friends makes them more bearable. — photo of evan and me from one of the royals' summer outings — photo of me and barty on a late-night hogsmede outing — photo i took of dorcas at one of the slytherin common room parties as we dared her to chug her drink

✦ an id, so people know who I am. as if they didn't already, pfft. it is also fake.

✦ spare condoms. enough said.

MAKEUP POUCH

✦ my signature black lipstick. can't go anywhere without that beauty. enchanted for long-lasting wear. the touch-ups are hardly necessary, but it does make people look at my lips~ also enchanted with love magic so when he kisses me he thinks I'm god. (I think that might make it illegal, but who's gonna snitch anyway?)

✦ tinted chapstick for dry lips.

✦ a spare eyeliner pen, because none of my looks would be complete without eyeliner.

✦ a knife inside a lipstick tube. just incase one knife wasn't enough. also great to scare the shit out of your friends with

✦ extra mascara, also for touchups.

✦ a black nail polish. also for touch ups. though, usually not my own. barty can never seem to keep his nail polish from chipping for longer than a day.

✦ cannabis and rose roller perfume. in case my aura isn't addicting enough. enchanted by dorcas with glamour magic, obviously. she's literally a goddess.

✦ my chanel compact mirror that also answers most of my questions. "mirror mirror in my hand, what's the answer to question #6?"

✦ a vivienne westwood claw clip that I stole from my older sister, morgaine. she's so damn uptight all the time and she's still freaking about about losing this clip. it's all I can do not to laugh aloud.

✦ a shit ton of hair ties and bobby pins just strewn throughout the pouch. I'll lose all of them eventually.

[asce-of-hearts]

milf reader and barely legal gojo blehhhhh, not proofread!!!!!!!!

Barely Legal!Gojo who uses his first day as an adult going bar hopping, getting so drunk he's kissing everything and everyone.

Barely Legal!Gojo who gets dared by Suguru to go and talk to the gorgeous, curvy and very obviously older woman who is dancing with her friends, a fucking MILF. Who is so drunk he doesn't hesitate as he stumbles your way.

Barely Legal!Gojo who can't lie when asked about his age. Who feels disappointed when the only thing you allow him to do is buy you a drink, or two, or twelve.

Barely Legal!Gojo who feels himself getting hard when you cling to his arm and whisper to him sweetly: "I wish you were like eight years older so I could flirt with you properly."

Barely Legal!Gojo who lets all coherent thoughts leave his mind as he turns to kiss you, not caring if the bar is full, he will be groping you over your dress.

Barely Legal!Gojo who fucks your throat in the bars bathroom. Stuffing your throat full of his fat cock like you're a college whore who has done too much coke.

Barely Legal!Gojo who fucks you like he has had a thousand years of experience. Who folds you in half, spanks your ass, manhandles you with ease.

Barely Legal!Gojo who makes you cum at least three times every time you two fuck. Who can go hour after hour after tortuous hour fucking your gorgeous womanly body.

Barely Legal!Gojo who flashes a shit eating grin at the black haired boy you introduce as your son when you tell him he's your boyfriend.

Barely Legal!Gojo who makes you scream in your bed, where you surely slept with your ex-husband before. Who is sure he's just so much better than him in every way by what you've told him. Your ex husband was a loser who was addicted to gambling, in debt and submerged in alcoholism. Nothing like him, the thriving jujutsu student in the prime of life.

Barely Legal!Gojo who has to resist the urge of poking holes in his condoms, because he just has to claim your body like that other loser did. He has to have you round and glowing with his little bastard.

Barely Legal!Gojo who loves to suck at your tits. Who goes almost catatonic as soon as he gets to latch to your nipple and suck as if you could give him milk. Who can't get enough of those beautiful breasts of yours, of groping them, of slobbering over them like a dog.

Barely Legal!Gojo who loves your curves, your cellulite, your stretch marks, your dimples and freckles and crevices. Who loves to have a MILF on his bed.

Barely Legal!Gojo who shows you off to all his friends. Who shows them your pictures fucked out over his bed, bouncing your ass on his cock and moving your hips in enticing 8-shaped motions, who relishes on the jealousy they feel at him getting to fuck every young and dumb fuckers wet dream.

Barely Legal!Gojo who feels heartbroken when you tell him you can't see him anymore. Because your ex-husband promised to work things out with you, and you don't want to break his heart. You promise him someone else will come, someone prettier and younger, but no, he wants you. And he will have you.

Barely Legal!Gojo who realizes he fucked up when he decided that he was going to beat up your looser, gambling addicted ex husband.

Barely Legal!Gojo who swallows down hard when he realizes that your ex-husband, the gambling addiction, irresponsible, in debt, is nothing more than the Toji Fushiguro, who will make sure nobody but him gets to have your pretty pussy.

this is a mess idk idk idk

Gojo M.List

TAGGING: @sunnymmoon @lilithlunas @imvivian @eroscastle @goldenglow149

@lurexin @stranger00001 @delicatelycraftedbambi @rania200527 @kitzusune 

@mizzhellsingsstuff @lakxcpsta @coolnekochan9961 @notreallyablogger @akirahyoshi

@lilyalone @oliviathatgirl @eeelieschariot @hannas16 @surelynotaspider 

@mimihaitani @raxshall @ayn-yurbestie @xxj0rd13xx @gojo-saturu-sweet-tooth

@mokingbrd78k @janeisnotonline @sukunaspillow @architectofsuffering @mrstraffy

[zlut4rina]

One shot/imagine request: Backshots w/ g!p Karina… anywhere anytime she’s just ready to bed you over🙏😋

And if I said blue collar karina ? Yea.

Pairings: G!p!Karina x Femreader

Warnings: Unprotected sex, smut man idk

___________________________________________

She comes home from her mechanic job, all dirty and sweaty, but it doesn't matter to her. Coming home and seeing her beautiful girl, she just has to get her hands on you. She's had a rough day, too. You wouldn't let her suffer all night, would you?

She's throwing all her stuff down at the door. And when you go to greet her with a hug and kiss, she's picking you up, turning you around and bending you over the back of the couch. Pulling whatever you had on, off. Not caring for a blow job right now so she spits on her hand and cock and starts stroking it a little. Once she feels like she's done enough she's shoving her entire length into your tight pussy. Letting out a long growl like groan as she's fucking into you like a stupid pussy drunk loser. You don't complain, you can't complain. You have no right to when she goes out and does all the work. It's only right for you to give up your body for her. Letting her use you, however, or whenever, nit just when she's off work either.

Even when you decided to wake up extra early to pack her lunch for the long, hard day she was about to experience. She's coming up from behind and rubbing her bulge against your ass, and of course, you bend over for her! You just have to! She's rubbing her length between your thighs, up against your dripping panties. She pulls them to the side and just starts fucking you so hard against the counter. You try your best to complete her lunch, but it's so hard to when she's just so deep. She takes notice and tells you to finish up, saying you don't want her to go hungry, do you? Of course you don't! Trying to make her meal as clean as possible while your body rocks at an obscene pace. Finally finished and packed, she takes you down to the cold hard floor and ruts into you like like a dog, not caring if she'll be late or not, she just need to breed you so bad. You take her so well she just has to show her appreciation to how well you treat her too.

Oh my glob, shower sex with her ?!? She's had such a rough and hard day at work that she comes home dirtier than usual. She even has a slight odor to her from all the oil and gunk she dealt with. Taking the initiative you offer to help her bathe. Starting a warm shower for her. It starts with you washing her back and arms so innocently, then the second you bend over to pick up something you dropped, she's pushing you against the wall. Tweaking at your nipples while she rubs her length between your thighs. She then starts pounding you like she's never had pussy before. The sounds of wet sloppy sex was like a cursed song. Your moans mixing with her low grunts and groans was like a sadistic harmony. The sound of wet skin slapping collided with the sound of water still violently pouring on her back and floor. Filling you up with her cream while whispering thank yous in your ear.

She's so strong to omg, anytime you're done sucking her off, she's bending you over, pulling you hips up as high as she can. She's so strong, too. Her grip is so rough, and she doesn't even mean it 'sometimes'. Leaving marks and bruises on your hips from how strong She's holding you, and marks on your ass from how aggressive and rough she was spanking you. And if I say she likes to record, too? Just for when she's needy at work and you're not responding to her horny, needy, messages. She goes back to the video you recorded last night. It's of you bent over on her bed in the dark with only her flash on your body. Capturing how her long hard dick was going in and out of you, both of your loud moans, and the slapping of wet soaked flesh was all that could be heard. A few quiet praises and curses from karina too.

Ugh she literally loves cumming on your back too. She does it to make you mad cause she didn't cun inside you or just because she likes the way her mess glisten on your back. Watching it drip down from the crevice of your back onto your stomach or whatever is below you.

___________________________________________

Need her sb 🥀💔

[coolwyous]

┈─★ 𝘪 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 ( 𝘀𝗼 𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 — 𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙤. )

  ⊹ ࣪ ˖ after 3 years of dating rising star and hockey team captain megan skiendiel, your senior year of college signals the end of an era. as she approaches her final season, the two of you navigate how much you're willing to push and pull to pursue her dreams— and figure out where yours fit in all of this, too.

         ˎˊ˗  ❄️  ⊹ ࣪ ˖  🔓୭˚.  ⠀ ᵎᵎ ⠀ 🗝️

   ➴ pairing: hockey captain! megan skiendiel x english major! f!reader

         ➴ genre + wc: 18k, fluff, angst, established relationship, poor stress management tbh, also reader keeps a lowkey shitty secret for a lot longer than needed, happy ending.

   ➴ you might want to tune in...: ditto - newjeans

      ┈─★ a/n: chat are we ready to say goodbye to dittoverse.... i'm ngl i'll miss my hockey wigline! so grateful that i got to start my writing journey w ditto pt i and now i get to write this to truly circle all the way around. lmk what you think <3

cw:// brief mentions of recreational drug use, mild violence but once again it's a hockey fic!

“ladies and gentlemen, megan thee skiendiel!”

you announce the introduction into your pen, quickly shoving the makeshift mic over the table into megan’s face. 

“i’d get copyrighted.” she wrinkles her nose. “and my last name is so not tough enough.”

you shake your head, bringing the pretend microphone back to your face. “megan thee captain, then.”

“cheesy,” she grins at you. you match her smile right back. “i need something better for my interview.”

“megan thee girlfriend,” you tease, as she taps her chin as if to genuinely contemplate it.

“that’s a good one.” she grabs her notebook and pretends to jot them down. “megan thee property of y/n.”

“okay, relax,” you laugh. “what’s your day look like?”

the ginger lets out a sigh, and your heart aches as you realize you’ve popped the bubble. the topic you’ve both been avoiding as you try to make the most of your quality time: your girlfriend’s insane schedule. 

“we leave to the airport after class,” she lists off, holding up a finger, “then the hotel, away game tomorrow evening, fly back saturday morning.”

“we prep your presentation, prep your speech,” you add, reminding her what you were working on in the first place.

“oh, and then monday i have to go with the department to do a ribbon cutting at an elementary school,” megan adds. “they started a girl’s hockey team in partnership with the university.”

“you’re terrible with kids,” you laugh.

“i fucking know i’m terrible with kids,“ she groans, burying her face in your shoulder. “how do i not knock them over or accidentally swear in front of them or whatever?”

“things are only going to get busier during midterms.” you frown at the mere thought of how overloaded her schedule is. “so you breathe when?”

“right now,” megan wrinkles her nose, before her mind escapes elsewhere. “we should get a dog.”

“oh, i’m sure my roommate-who-isn’t-you would love that,” you snort. megan still lives in that same house with dani, who now coaches, and lara, who’s finishing up her internship. 

“not now, just later.” she grins and wraps her arm around your waist, scooting your chair in up next to hers far too easily. she brings her nose to your hear, mumbling into your hair. “hey, be my date to alumni night?”

“i’d crash out if you picked anyone else.” you laugh, pressing a kiss into her cheek. “like on the floor, snot all over my face, ugly crying.”

“no, you look so so sad when you cry. thank god you’re the only person i want as my date,” she grins. 

a voice quickly bursts your bubble. again.

“shhhh.” you’ve almost completely forgotten about the couple trying to read across the table from you as you get caught up in your whispers. “library is for studying. less yapping.”

“we’re inside a study room,” you squint at her.

“sorry minji,” megan adds fearfully, her brows furrowing.

“please don’t feel the need to apologize to her,” you wave her off. you’re grateful that your friendship with minji hasn’t just survived the years, but thrived, and now results in you living in a off-campus 2 bedroom apartment with her and her girlfriend. of course, you’d ideally be living with megan, but given her travel schedule, it worked out better for you guys to live apart.

“i’m smarter than both of you,” minji says flatly.

the newest addition to your friend group, megan’s old roommate, danielle marsh, pokes her head out from behind the book she’s diving into, pushing minji gently on the shoulder as a reprimand.

“be nice.”

“thank you, marsh,” megan nods appreciatively, as you stick your tongue out at minji at her girlfriend’s reproach. 

“we should start walking to class anyways,” you wave her off, seeing the time in the corner of your laptop. your girlfriend takes the cue without question and bids your friends farewell with a nod of her head. 

megan, chivalrous, sweet megan, has never let you open a door for yourself, and got it into her head that you shouldn’t carry any of your own things either. you tried to tell her off when she first started doing it, but seeing how sad those puppy dog eyes got when you insisted she stop carrying your bookbag made you give in the next day, and the rest has been history. 

she immediately reaches for your backpack and extends a hand out to you. you take it and relish in how warm her skin is against yours. she makes a face, a wince, as she grabs her own bag and hauls the two of them over her shoulder while you make your way out of the library together.

“is your back okay?” you ask, worried about her reaction.

“it would be if you stopped carrying every single one your textbooks in this damn bag.” she huffs, but the sparkle in her eye tells you she’s still just teasing you. she squeezes your hand reassuringly. “i get that you paid for them but jesus christ baby, get them online next time.”

“we have one last semester, think you can handle my books for a few months longer?” you tease back.

“don’t remind me,” she tells you, but you see something in her face change at the mention of your college experience coming to an end. 

before you can ask anything about it, a few random people come up to the two of you, one girl stopping in your tracks.

“hi, could we get a picture?” she asks, sticking her phone out.  “my dad loves you. says you’ve revamped women’s college hockey.”

you give megan a look but graciously step to the side, letting the strangers squeeze in next to her. megan shoots you an apologetic glance but immediately perks up into a smile for the girl’s photo.

“i think daniela avanzini changed the game, i just followed up on what she started,” she smiles, holding a thumbs up for the photo. they thank her and scurry off, leaving you to reclaim your girlfriend by the hand as you resume your walk to class.

“my mini-celebrity,” you pretend to fan yourself. “want me to sign an nda?”

“oh god, i hate when you say a bunch of letters,” she wrinkles her nose, shaking her head. “my fucking brain is so cooked.”

“chat, do i define nda for her or do i let her guess?”

“nonchalant drippy alpha.” megan grins.

“actually it’s never die, asshole.”

“i think it’s nine dry assholes,” she adds on.

“why did you fixate on the asshole part? and why are there nine of them?” you squint at her, poking her nose with your fingertip. “weirdo.”

“you’re weirder.” she grabs your finger and plants a kiss on it, then another, and another. “and you love me.”

your heart stirs at the sight of her cute brown eyes peeking out at you expectantly from under that stupid beanie. you’ll be stuck with a forever crush on this giant dork.

“maybe,” you shrug.

megan beams, then drops her voice into her stereotypical gamer voice, pretending to speak into an imaginary microphone like how you two had in the library.

“oh fuck yeah. we got a maybe from fineshyt, chat, please clip.”

you roll your eyes, but hold on just a bit tighter to her hand. megan is quick to squeeze right back.

-

your schedule is busy, between finishing your senior capstone project and the full course load you’re taking, on top of the online editing job you work in between it all. you’ve found an effective way to balance your workload, but for every day you want to grumble and complain about your schedule, you look at the google calendar that you share with your girlfriend, and send a silent prayer of gratitude that your days look nothing like hers.

your semester gets off to a slightly bumpy start, as megan tries to fit the beginning of the new season and her captain duties in with the classes she’s taking, but you two have managed to make it work.

and by make it work, you mean do whatever you can to try and spend whatever shred of time she can spare together.

like tonight, for example, when you’re done with classes and calling megan as soon as you’re done with your editing shift before you start homework.

she picks up on the second ring, and you can hear the bustle of people’s voices behind her in the background. she’d likely have just gotten out of practice given it’s this late in the afternoon.

“hi. just checking if i’m gonna see you tonight?” you greet her.

“hi, sorry.” she lets out a sigh, and you can practically picture the way she’s wrinkling her nose from all the stress. “i have tapes to review with the new players, then i have a coach’s meeting with the department, then we’re shooting an ad with gatorade.”

“when do you eat?” you ask, feeling your brows knit together. 

“sometime in between all of that,” she breathes, a quiet laugh leaving her lips. you admire her, the way she doesn’t complain about any of it, but you’re always worried she’s pushing her limits.

“did you finish your homework?” you ask. granted, you’re only a few weeks into the semester, but in your years of dating, you had taken over the role of making sure megan stayed on top of her academics, and you weren’t about to let up now.

“i worked on some things in class,” she reassures you. “i’ll finish when i get home.”

“can i postmate you something?” you offer, but she’s quick to cut you off.

“no don’t worry about it, please,” she says hurriedly, but before you can insist, the phone clatters around on her end and you’re suddenly hearing a familiar voice that isn’t quite megan’s.

“i love you mami, you mean everything to me, my heart bleeds for you,” dani’s voice is loud and teasing over the sound of chatter in the background. you hear a chorus of girls laughing, and it brings a smile to your face to picture megan whining and turning red at daniela’s playful taunts.

“oh my god, fuckin’ dani,” megan groans, regaining control over the phone. “sorry about her. she’s even worse now that she’s a coach.”

“well is she right?” you grin.

“you’re the only thing that keeps me sane some days.” you can hear megan’s voice lighten up, warm and joyful. “i love you so much.”

“i can wait for you at your place,” you offer. megan still lives in the same house with lara and dani which makes the drive from your apartment with minji much easier. 

“i’d love that.” you can hear her smile, picture her little whisker dimples, and it sends a wave of warmth over you. “i gotta go. see you soon.”

you drive over to megan’s place and you barely get a chance to knock before the door swings open, revealing the charming former goalie.

“hiiiii y/n,” lara drawls, her bright smile never fading as she greets you, ushering you in. “how’s senior year treating you?”

“oh you know,” you grimace, kicking off your shoes. 

“you’ll make it through just fine,” she reassures you, “plus you have that—”

you shake your head quickly, to cut her off. “please don’t remind me.”

lara’s perceptive, quick to pick up on your anxieties and dissect them. maybe it’s the fact that you’ve dated her best friend for the past three years, but lara knows you far better than you’d ever have anticipated.

“you haven’t told her yet?” she asks in disbelief, her eyes widening.

“i know i know.” you wince. “the right time hasn’t come up.”

“i trust you, but sooner rather than later, right?” she gives you an empathetic tilt of the head.

“of course,” you nod. “i appreciate you.”

“always,” she smiles, before adding a quick heads up. “make yourself at home. she’s been coming home super late recently, you might be up for a while.”

between homework, studying, and reading, the hours alone in megan’s room melt away. you don’t even realize that you’ve fallen asleep when you hear the door creak open, jolting you awake. you check your phone and see it read just past 1:30am. 

“home invasion?” you smile, worried about how late she’s coming home, but grateful to see her nonetheless.

“hands up, sigma,” megan jokes weakly, setting her bag down in the corner before coming to plant a kiss on your hair. 

“i could smell you from a mile away,” you tease back, taking in the state of her. she looks utterly spent, hair a mess, skin still looking sticky.

“the gatorade commercial people kept trying to talk to me even in the locker room. i didn’t have enough privacy to shower,” she groans.

“my poor girl,” you reach out to stroke her cheek. “you sound exhausted.”

“missed you,” she grumbles, pressing a kiss into your palm.

“glad you’re home,” you tell her. “please come rest.”

megan nods, peeling her hoodie off over her shoulders.

“after my shower i’m passing out,” she calls out to you as she disappears into the bathroom.

“i’ll make sure you wake up on time. c’mon,” you beckon her, taking a look at your phone. if she sleeps in the next 20 minutes, she’ll maybe manage to get 6 hours before she has to be up again to head to campus. you tuck yourself in as you hear the water run, and take to tik tok to keep yourself awake to be ready to hear about her day.

you’re not fully aware of how much time has passed from your scrolling until your eyes flicker up to the time in the corner. nearly 2:15am. 

you hear the water still running. megan deserves the luxury of a hot shower, but almost an hour has never been part of her habits. you jump up and enter the bathroom slowly, as to not disturb her.

“megan?” you call out, only to be met with silence.

you pull back the curtain to see your girlfriend, standing with her forehead against the tile, head slumped forward with her eyes shut. she looks so, so peaceful, but you know you have to wake her. 

“hey,” you shake her gently. she jolts awake with a startle, and she looks so cute with her wet hair slicked back, but you’re extremely worried about what you just saw. “you okay?”

“sorry, sorry. it was so nice and warm,” she yawns, turning the water off.

“were you asleep?” you ask in disbelief, still holding onto the curtain.

she blinks a few times as you hand her a towel. “i think i closed my eyes when i was rinsing my hair and they just never opened.”

“that’s insane,” you laugh. “c’mon, let me braid your hair and we can finally go to bed.”

-

“she fell asleep in the shower last night.” you tell dani on the call, shaking your head in disbelief as you recount the events. “just straight up, literally, i shit you not, standing up.”

“like a horse?” dani questions.

“she’s so exhausted, but she never complains,” you sigh.

your friendships with daniela and lara had deepened in your time dating megan, and dani was someone you found would always be up for a quick call if she was free. though you tended to seek advice from lara about the more emotional things, dani had always given some tidbit of wisdom about the captain duties megan was taking on and how to best support her. this time was no different, though the pause she takes tells you she’s thinking about her words as to not worry you. 

“megan’s always been a workhorse,” she reminds you. “if there’s a gap, she’ll fill it. ‘i can do more,’ she always fuckin’ says. you know her. she’ll find the balance, i know she will.”

you look down at the email in your inbox. you want to tell her, you do, but the last thing you want is to add stress to her day.

“you’re right,” you sigh, and focus on the future.

-

halfway through the semester, and your schedules have only gotten more hectic. you’re grateful to have met megan early enough in her career that she had plenty of time for you guys to get to know each other. at this point, you’re scraping by on whatever in-betweens you’re both able to make work, but you won’t complain. you know she’s doing her best to fit it all in and be the best.

speaking of which, a facetime audio from your favorite contact photo interrupts your train of thought. it’s a picture of megan on her birthday, blowing out a candle, smiling so big it looks like her face might burst. your heart skips a beat to think the girl in the photo is the one you get to claim so proudly.

“hi you,” you greet.

“hi,” she chirps back. “are you still working on your blackstone?”

“that’s the grill,” you correct her quickly, laughing. “capstone is my project.”

“please forgive me, shorty,” she says in a stupid voice. you can practically picture her face.

“forgiven.” you smile, before checking the time. “what’s up? aren’t you supposed to be at practice?”

“they cut it short today cause coach and dani couldn’t stop arguing over about the starting lineup,” she explains, and you both laugh. “you and i haven’t had a real date in so long. can you squeeze me in?”

“i can move some things in my schedule.” your heart flips at the thought of being able to spend actual quality time with her. “i miss you.”

“miss you more. thanks for being flexible. see you soon?” she asks eagerly.

“where am i meeting you?”

“meet me in 20! i’ll text you,” she says, a little too quickly, and you instantly sense something’s up. but before you can question her, she chirps a quick “i love you” and hangs up.

you look down at your phone as you head towards your car and realize she’s sent you the location. you zoom out on the map until you realize where she’s got planned.

the lake….. megan meiyok be SO fr baby if u love me u wld be happy to spend any time w me it’s so cold outside i will bring you hot choco ples pls please pls pleas pls plspslpslpls OKAYYYY fine

the argument is over sooner than it started, and you’re heading over to the frozen lake where megan loves to practice when she doesn’t feel like heading to the arena.

“hi, beautiful,” she greets you, beaming smile. if you were angry earlier, her smile is enough to melt away any of your mild frustrations.

“hi you,” you greet back, pressing a kiss into her cheek

“we haven’t had a date on ice in a while,” she notes, handing you your skates that she keeps with hers.

“you’re determined to teach me how to skate,” you roll your eyes.

“you’re going to know how, our kids are going to know how, our crusty ass dog is going to know how.” she reaches out to you and steps onto the ice with the confidence of someone who’s never fallen. “we are for sure a skating family.”

you laugh and take her arm. you love the idea of the future she has pictured. 

“do you remember the first time you tried to take me on the ice?” you ask, as she pulls the two of you along on the bumpy frozen-over lake.

“you were so bad at it,” she laughs.

“everyone looks bad at it compared to you,” you frown.

“i think i expected you to be more graceful,” she grins.

“you’ve been skating since you could walk.” you roll your eyes and try to push her, but the movement just makes you wobbly on the ice. “cut me some slack.”

“while you studied your books, i studied the motherfucking blade,” she tells you.

“ok, relax naruto,” you laugh, trying to get your bearings as she lets go of your arm and skates ahead of you, turning backwards to face you effortlessly. show off.

“dare me to hit the most vile jutsu known to man?” she grins.

“literally what does that even mean?” you shake your head.

“it means i hit a nasty pose and copy myself a million times,” she beams, and you can’t stop laughing at the various poses she starts to contort herself into. 

“the bitches of the wnhl are gonna loooove you,” you sing song, watching her continue to hit what you can only assume are the most complex of nerdy naruto poses. 

“coach said he’s already getting teams ask about me,” she says excitedly, reaching back out for your hand to guide you along the ice.

“i bet they’ve been asking about you since your freshman year,” you reassure her.

megan’s smile softens as she looks at you, then looks at your intertwined hands. “we have grown a lot since then.”

“so much.”

“i feel really lucky.”

“how come?”

“everything just sort of worked out for me. about to graduate, captain by my junior year, met my college sweetheart. it’s like, so convenient.”

“you have worked extremely hard for everything you have,” you reassure her, reaching up to play with the hairs at the base of her neck. “i can’t think of anyone who works harder. you deserve everything good in your life.”

“some days i feel like i never deserved you,” she admits. 

“what? don’t be silly.” you squint at her. “you’re the superstar. i still get shy knowing i’m the one you call at the end of the night.”

“all these years and you still feel shy?” she looks at you with those wide, beautiful puppy dog eyes.

“you’re very, very good looking,” you admit, though you’ve told her a million times before how attractive you’ve found her. “and very funny, and unfortunately, extremely awkward, which meant i was doomed from the start.”

she makes a fist with her free hand and beams. “i bagged the baddie using my undeniable weird girl swag.”

“weirdest of weird girls,” you laugh. “i wouldn’t want anyone else.”

the weight of the email starts to strain inside your chest. lara’s words ring through your ears. this needs to be the time you say something.

“meg–” you start.

the buzz of her phone vibrates loudly against her pocket, cutting you off. she pulls her phone out and winces, letting go of your hand.

“it’s coach. i have to take this, nike wants to do an interview tomorrow and he’s losing his shit about it. i’m so sorry,” she offers you the most apologetic kiss she can muster.

“go for it.” you nod, but you feel the sinking in your chest. “i know what i signed up for.”

megan has to leave as soon as the call is over, and by the look on her face, she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. you can’t possibly bear to add something else to her plate. 

you head home, grateful for the tender moment you were able to share. maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you didn’t get to spoil it with your announcement.

you’re home and settling into your night when you get a text from minji in the other room. 

this you?

a post from a college sports gossip blog. it’s a picture of you and megan, on the ice, holding hands. 

you grimace. sure, the lake is in a public park, but who’s weird enough to be taking pictures of you at your most private times?

your fingers keep scrolling. 

you know dani had gone through this when her relationship with the coach’s daughter had gone public. megan had told you all about how they tried to keep it just between the team at first, but even with dani stepping down as captain, she was still a hot topic and being locked down by her coach’s own daughter made them campus celebrities for months. 

you’ve tried not to let the same thing bother you, but facts are facts: megan is one of the best college hockey players in the country, and dani made women’s hockey something to talk about. megan, by default, becomes something of a mini-celebrity on campus, and you are unfortunately stuck as her hockey wife. 

you look at the bright side. you knew her as a sweet, bright eyed freshman without a clue in the world, and despite all the recognition that’s come to her, she’s still the same old megan you fell in love with. you pick megan, and that means picking all that comes with her.

-

with midterms quickly coming and going, you and megan survive the grueling test season and make it out on the other side relatively unscathed. you know at this point in the semester, her team is starting to heat up, and with such a dominant performance so far in the season, her team is easily top in their conference, all but guaranteeing their spot in the playoffs. 

you’d think that she’d take it easy to maintain her pace, but lately, megan has been harder to get a hold of, somehow even less available than you had thought was possible. you cheer her on at every home game, and she was thrilled when you crashed with sophia to cheer her on at an away game, but lately, even lara mentions how much megan has been blowing her off to practice or tend to her captain duties.

you take it upon yourself to wait for her outside of the conference room, knowing she’s busy reviewing a recent interview she did with ESPN with the athletics department. when she finally comes out of the room, you feel yourself light up at the sight of your girlfriend.

what hurts your heart is for the first time in years, she doesn’t light up at the sight of you. her eyes are tired, and while she acknowledges you with a hug, the unintentional cold shoulder admittedly stings.

“hi,” she greets weakly, reaching out as you initiate a hug. 

you try to shake off your nerves at the interaction and squeeze her as tightly as you can. she takes heavy steps to lead the two of you out of the building. 

“i saw your interview. tried calling you in between but i know it was a busy day for you,” you chirp. “how’d you think it went?”

“not good,” megan shakes her head immediately. “i lost my shit so fast.”

“why are you being so hard on yourself? you did amazing,” you frown.

“thank you.” a beat, and she nuzzles her head into your shoulder. a flash of your familiar megan comes back, and it soothes your heart. you run your fingers through her hair to comfort her, and it seems to help as she lets out a sigh. “yeah, sorry. i’m stressing about my grades.”

“you have so much on your plate,” you tell her worriedly.

she groans. “and i’m barely holding on to this passing grade in my world literature class.”

“i can help with that,” you nod. “easily.”

the two of you find yourselves on a bench outside the building, sitting side by side. a brief moment of peace with your ever-busy girlfriend.

“i don’t want you always doing my english homework for me,” she tells you, biting her lip.

“i’d never, you know that meg. but i can help you make sense of it all.”

“glad one of us likes english,” she wrinkles her nose, reaching over to press a kiss into your temple. “i like that so much about you.”

english. your mind wanders to the email. it’s been months now since you told yourself you’d say something to her. you steady yourself with an inhale and reach for her hand.

“speaking of english, i wanted to find a good time to tell you,” you start quietly.

“hm?” she arches a brow, those puppy eyes looking at you nervously.

“i got an offer for a master’s program in the UK.” you confess. “lodging would be paid for, i’d be a research assistant which would cover the costs of my program. it’s literally perfect megan, like a dream come true.”

megan’s eyes are wide. you’re waiting for the hug, the congratulatory cheer, but instead, she just stares back at you.

“oh.” she says simply. “you actually applied?”

“yes.” you furrow your brows. “i didn’t just mention it to mention it.”

“i didn’t think you were serious about it,” she admits, and it stings to hear her tone. dismissive. something you would have never expected given all the wins you two make such a big deal of celebrating.

“why do you say that?” you question, trying to regulate yourself.

“it’s so far,” she says quietly, opening her mouth to add more, but nothing comes out. she looks away, pulling her hand from yours.

“hey,” you push, scooting closer to her on the bench. “you okay?”

“i’m anxious,” she admits. 

“i know,” you sigh. “just between practice, and your meetings, and your interviews, there’s never enough time to talk about the heavier stuff. i didn’t want to let more time pass. we haven’t exactly had a ton of time to talk about next steps.”

“y/n, you know it’s either hockey, or nothing for me after college ends. i need to go pro.” her eyes are determined, but there’s something more to them, something that worries you. “if i lose this season, my future is out the window. i can’t lose you too.”

“dani was the best player in the country and she didn’t end up going pro. everything can change so fast. you need to be prepared with a backup plan, meg,” you remind her. it’s not that you don’t foresee her succeeding, but you remember how torn up she was when dani got injured, and how fast it all changed. “you’re so much more than this sport.”

“i am nothing without hockey,” she says quickly, her face tensing. you don’t like what’s coming over her, but more so, you don’t know what’s coming over her. she’s never gotten like this in all your years together. determined, sure, but never this insistent, never this aggressive.

“yes you are,” your brows furrow. 

“it’s everything to me.”

“what about your friends? your hobbies?” you press, before your voice softens. “what about me?”

“i wouldn’t have any friends without hockey. i don’t have hobbies,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “and i wouldn’t have met you without hockey.”

“but you got all those things along the way. hockey didn’t do that for you, they just happened. you made your friendships happen, i like you for you and not what you do.”

“no i get that, i just feel like i really need to focus. i’m really sorry.” she lets out a deep breath, and reaches again for your hand, and you feel slightly reassured by the gesture as her body relaxes. “i’ll make it up to you.”

“i know you will. just take it easy on yourself, please?” you plead, reaching over to brush some hair out of her face.

you see her wipe at the corners of her eyes. you reach for her and lay her head down on your shoulder, playing gently with her hair. 

-

“i’m worried about megan,” you say quietly, later that night on another phone call with daniela as megan is off to do another tape review with the team. 

“she’s been dreaming of this since she was a kid,” dani sighs. “the only thing she loves as much as she loves this sport is you.”

“i’m scared she’s going to burn out,” you confess.

“if there’s a time to push, it’s now,” dani reminds you.

“do you think i’m maybe doing too much?” you ask. you stare at a framed photo of you and the ginger that you keep hanging above your desk in your room, a picture of the two of you on a picnic. “like i’m asking too much of her?”

“that’s not a question for me,” dani tells you. “i’m in no position to be giving relationship advice. barely figured out how to make one work on my own.”

you laugh softly. “you know, it was easier when you were in charge.”

“i made that shit look soooo easy.” you can hear her smile over the phone. “nobody gets how hard it was. megan’s good at it but she’s not ever going to half-ass something.”

you stare at the photo. megan’s adorable dimples, her shining eyes, her wide smile: things you haven’t seen her do in what feels like weeks. 

“i don’t think she has enough of herself left to give,” you say quietly.

-

the alumni night rolls around, and it’s a blast for you to see all the girls who graduated. they open up the arena for a few hours of free ice skating and talking to the team. it’s a welcome few hours to enjoy with her, and as you promised, you show up extra early to be her date.

megan, forever the adorable face of the team, gives a quick welcome speech on the ice and thanks everyone for being there. she poses briefly with a few of the donors for some pictures and then finds you to guide you onto the ice. 

you’re wobbly, as expected, but megan keeps her arm held out to you, anchoring you as she pushes off strong enough for the both of you to lap lazy circles around and around without much effort on your end.

“i’ll get good at this eventually,” you reassure her, trying your best not to wobble and fall. 

“that’s what i’m here for,” she smiles back at you. “also looks sick to have such a pretty girl on my arm.”

“you’re sweet,” you grin. after your talk, things had been tense, but you had tried to ease up and just support her. dani’s words would ring through your head, about how bad you want this, and you remembered how much you love megan’s determination. 

“my babies, always looking more and more grown up,” lara sing songs from behind you both as she catches up on the ice. you spot lara’s girlfriend, plus yunjin, and dani, plus dani’s girlfriend, all joining you. 

lara chats to yunjin about her therapy internship she’s doing at a local mental health center, and yunjin rambles excitedly about how boston is going for her and the super cool job she bagged straight after graduation. dani barely counts as an alumni considering she works at the university now, but she’s still wearing an alumni name tag, enjoying the attention of people asking her what it’s like to be on the other side of it all. 

“zuha just got here!” yunjin announces loudly, looking down at a text on her phone with a beaming grin. 

“kazuha signed to the vegas golden knights right after graduation,” megan says quickly. several of the seniors that year got drafted and you remember megan following all their stats meticulously.

“hoping to join her?” you ask curiously, trying to be a good sport about it all. 

“just want to know what it’s like, she calls but she’s too busy to talk very long.” you can sense the urgency in her voice. “do you mind if i chat with her?”

“don’t be gone too long. i might get brave and try to skate again without you, might lose a tooth,” you tell her, smiling.

she presses a kiss to your forehead and sets your arm carefully on the wall, allowing you to pull yourself along to the exit. 

you sit on one of the benches to unlace the blades from your feet, when eunchae comes to join you.

eunchae greets you with a broad smile and you return it, happy to see the once star-struck rookie who had blossomed into megan’s right-hand on the ice. megan had stayed close with dani and lara since they didn’t move away after graduating, but eunchae, being a year younger, had quickly become megan’s new closest teammate. 

“it’s like ghosts came back,” she says as she sits next to you. “i missed everyone, but things are so different in just a year.”

“so different,” you agree.

“i’ll keep an eye on her for you,” she tells you, as if she can read your worries. “i know she’s been off lately. the new girls don’t know what she was like before she was captain, but i do. i can tell she’s been struggling, this year more than ever.”

you give eunchae an appreciative smile. “you have no idea how much that means to me. dani keeps saying she’s fine, but i feel like this year is different for her.”

“it’s a lot of pressure. we have the playoffs and if we do well, the championships. megan’s been part of the championship team since she was a freshman. it would look terrible if we started losing once she became captain. i think she’s trying to look at it from all angles,” eunchae explains, and it starts to click little by little for you.

“she doesn’t think she has any wiggle room,” you sigh, and the two of you spot her out on the ice, beaming widely at something kazuha is saying to her. your sweet, dorky megan, who shows up in flashes every once in a while.

eunchae offers you a nod of encouragement. “she’s got this, but i’ll let you know if i get worried. i can’t imagine this is very easy on you either.”

megan spots you from across the ice rink, and waves to the two of you. she says something quickly to kazuha before skating over to you, motioning for you to come back and join them. you and eunchae oblige, hopping onto the ice together.

“doing okay?” you check in.

she nods, but turns away for a moment, and you can see her trying to stifle a yawn. “i’m peachy.”

“how long have you been up for?” you question, holding onto her arm as eunchae chats kazuha’s ear off.

“um, i got up at 4 to do conditioning, then solo practice, radio interview at 6,” she starts to rattle off. you sigh and slip a hand into her back pocket, melting into her embrace.

“you need to fix your sleep schedule,” you chastise her.

“totally,” she agrees. “we can leave whenever.”

you’re about to suggest cutting the night early when a few extra voices cut in.

“cap!” 

megan squints at you apologetically before turning to greet the source of the noise. “hi guys.”

megan and eunchae welcome a wave of the newer girls. you recognize them freshmen and sophomores you’ve met in passing. haerin, moka, and maya, who all approach excitedly. 

you smile. years ago, it was you and megan who were the babies of the group, your sweet ginger being at her most bright-eyed and eager.

“this place is packed,” moka, one of the newer defenseman, gapes.

“insane, right?” maya, the starting goalie, agrees.

“hey, are we still good for an early practice tomorrow?” haerin asks megan, her voice quiet. you recognize her as a left wing: a high pressure spot with huge shoes to fill considering that was daniela’s former position, and works directly with megan as center to score the goals. you can’t imagine the pressure of being daniela’s replacement.

“for sure,” megan nods, and you can’t help but glare at her. so much for catching up on sleep. but these girls clearly admire her, and you won’t stand in the way of her being a doting team leader.

before they can keep going, a random guy comes up alongside you all, waving wildly at megan as if he knows her.

“my betting bracket depends on you,” he tells her, and you realize it’s just a fanboy. megan has had plenty in her time. “i’m putting it all on you getting us a dub.”

“thanks,” she says weakly, and eunchae gives her a quick glance as if to check in if she should do anything. you guys are all caught in an awkward silence as he simply skates alongside you all.

the guy opens his mouth to say something, but then notices your hand interlocked with megan’s, and brings a finger up to point at you.

“don’t fucking distract her, okay?” he warns.

you know he means it teasingly, but you can already feel megan’s body lurching at the gesture.

your girlfriend grabs him angrily by the sleeve, a warning look in her eyes as her grip locks tightly on his elbow. you see the younger girls freeze, all of you coming to a standstill as megan grabs him.

“don’t talk to her like that,” she warns harshly, her voice low. you can see the guy’s eyes widen in surprise, but more to your concern, you see the girls’ faces change. moka and maya are staring at each other, and haerin looks like she’s seeing a ghost.

“hey, relax,” you shake her arm, trying to bring her back to reality. you can tell she’s not all there by the way her dark eyes are still locked in on him, her grip still tight on his elbow. “he didn’t mean it like that.”

she blinks once, twice, and breathes slowly. “i’m sorry.”

“you can let go of him now,” eunchae says quietly, as if to not embarrass her. megan complies, and eunchae mentions something to the guy that has him skating off with a smile on his face, hopefully saving their interaction.

“sorry you guys had to see that,” megan tells the girls, shaking her head. “that was really not cool.”

“it’s okay, cap,” maya reassures her, if a bit too quickly, as if she’s kissing up. you smile at how hard they’re trying to cheer her up, but you can tell megan’s worried about how this affects their view of her, by the way she’s chewing her bottom lip.

“hey, it’s fine,” you reassure her, and moka nods in agreement.

“totally cool to protect your people,” she nods.

“i promise i’m not usually that quick to flip,” megan offers quietly, and you feel your heart ache at her embarrassment. usually, her protectiveness of you comes from a good place, but with all the stress, you can see her fuse is much shorter than normal.

“no, they know you’re a good person,” eunchae nods reassuringly.

“you’re thoughtful, and kind, and a good leader,” you reassure her, and the girls nod in agreement. “you work hard, harder than anyone i know, and you’re always willing to learn. you have zero ego.”

“alright, alright, i think i’ve blushed enough to reset my aura back into the negatives,” megan waves you off, wrinkling her nose, and the girls all beam back at you excitedly.

“i dunno cap, i think being a lovergirl actually proves you have rizz,” maya says, and haerin simply nods in eager agreement.

“yeah, coach dani loves telling stories about how you used to be this bitchless loser with zero social skills—” moka rambles, and you burst out laughing loud enough that it cuts her off.

“damn, your loser legacy lives on forever,” you grin, pinching her cheek.

“remind me to break her other knee once the season’s over so she’s got two bad legs,” megan groans, and eunchae laughs her off.

megan holds tightly onto your hand as you all continue to skate. eunchae chats excitedly with you and megan about some random stats, haerin is doing her best to listen and keep up, moka and maya are simply goofing off skating circles around each other on the ice in front of you all. 

your heart warms looking up at your girlfriend, never having been able to picture how far you two would come from just being dorky little freshmen. you know it won’t be for long, but the brief peace it brings you is enough to power you through the rest of the day. you hope it’ll last, but make peace with the idea that this might be the eye of the storm.

-

(the peace only lasts the night, and the storm stirs starting the very next day.)

this week, with a deadline for your senior project approaching, you’ve been the one with limited time to squeeze in megan. you make it work between facetimes and quick coffee dates, the two of you agreeing to spend at least a few nights out of the week together even if it’s just to sleep alongside each other, but you can tell that your schedules are working in opposite directions.

even today, when you’re done with all your obligations and studying in the campus library by yourself, you’re hoping to surprise megan with a quick dinner after practice, but your plans get thrown off when you get an unexpected call.

a call from eunchae, of all people, with the most random favor in the world to ask of you.

“hey, will you come to practice? like, now?”

“what? is everything okay?” your voice jumps an octave in disbelief. 

eunchae knows that you don’t come to practices, unlike some of the other hockey girlfriends, due to just how distracted megan gets by you being there. megan can focus when you’re cheering her on for games, but she’s explicitly banned you from practice after one too many missed shots because she’s too busy being nervous around you.

you’ve always found it sweet, and you know eunchae knows megan’s rule, so that’s why it’s surprising you that she’s explicitly going against the captain’s personal expectations.

“meg’s been, uh, how do i put this…” she pauses.

“eunchae?” you ask, worried with how long she’s taking.

“acting out,” she finally blurts, and you feel yourself grow even more confused. “it’s weird.”

your megan? your laser-focused, super professional megan, acting out?

“i’ll be there,” you tell her quickly, shutting your laptop and hurrying over to the hockey arena where they practice in a few short minutes.

eunchae is waiting for you by the entrance of the rink, out of view of the team, holding a tampon much too obviously in her hand. you laugh realizing this is probably the excuse she used in order to get off the ice and avoid suspicion when she gave you a call and waited for you in the middle of practice.

“acting out how?” you ask her, feeling your brows furrow in confusion.

“watch how she gets with ryujin,” eunchae tells you, before handing you the tampon to hide and putting her helmet back on, heading back out to the ice. you sneak in, trying to make yourself small and unnoticeable amongst some of the other girlfriends who are sitting and studying or watching from the bleachers.

megan is too focused on the ice to notice you. you can see the sweat dripping down off the tip of her nose, a testament to how hard she pushes herself every practice, how eager she is to give her all. she zips past the other girls during the drills, and you’re almost starting to feel guilty for spying on her. 

but then, as the practice comes to an end and they split into two teams to practice a quick scrimmage, you see it happen.

it’s almost lightning fast, and you’re not really good enough at hockey to know the intricacies of what it’s supposed to look like, but you can tell that megan is expecting haerin to pass something to someone else and get it to her to make a shot. 

haerin does as she’s supposed to, taking a pass from eunchae to send it over to ryujin, but ryujin is too busy blocking off the opposite wing to notice the pass. the puck slides past her, between her legs, into the waiting hands of the opposing girl, who skips past the wings and sends it straight past maya’s glove, scoring the other girls a point.

“left side wins,” dani announces easily. “good game, ladies. see you all tomorrow.”

you can tell the scrimmage is supposed to be light hearted (they only played for one point, for christ’s sakes,) but the moment dani announces that megan’s team didn’t win, you see the ginger rip her helmet off her head and throw it angrily into the plexiglass. you feel yourself jolt at the clang of the helmet against the barrier, the loud thud it makes that rings through the otherwise quiet rink.

and then you hear her voice, loud, booming, aggressive, echo through the arena.

“hey, if you’d get your head out of your ass, you’d have seen that shot, you idiot.”

ryujin instantly stands up straighter, and you see her whole body tense. “sorry meg.”

“i don’t want sorry, it want it fucking right.” megan scoops another puck from behind the box and drops it on the ice, sending it flying towards haerin and motioning to ryujin. “run it again.”

“but practice is over,” ryujin says weakly. 

megan shoots a glare at haerin, who quietly complies and recreates the pass over to ryujin. ryujin ignores the pass and stares at megan, but this just infuriates the ginger even further. she grabs yet another puck, sending it more aggressively at haerin once more.

“shin, do it the fuck again,” megan demands, her gaze hard and serious as the other girls simply watch, dumbfounded and clearly in fear. “you’re not off the ice until you fix it.”

you look to dani to do something about it, but she’s too busy talking to the other coaches to notice what megan’s doing. 

ryujin misses the pass once more, and you can see her face turning more and more red as megan drops puck after puck, insisting she go until she gets it right. the girls all stay frozen, watching the events unfold, until haerin exhaustedly sends a pass to ryujin that she finally catches, sending the pass to megan. 

megan catches the pass, and as if to prove a point, slams a shot so forcefully into the empty goal, it shoots the net backwards several feet. you feel your stomach drop at the display of anger. megan waves them off wordlessly and gets off the ice. 

eunchae’s eyes come up to meet yours from where you’re hiding on the bleachers, the girls all silently trickling off the ice. you can hear ryujin crying as she rushes past the rest of the girls into the locker room.

megan stays, and so do a few of the other girls like maya and moka and haerin, practicing a few more maneuvers with their captain, but nobody says anything among them. it makes your heart ache, remembering how she’d used to spend an extra hour here with kazuha, yunjin, lara and dani, practicing, laughing, catching up. now, the extra practice is heavier, silent and solemn, with none of the joy that used to have megan coming home rambling like an excited puppy about whatever nonsense they had gotten into between the five of them.

you wave her over, and see her brows lift in surprise as she realizes you’re there. she skates over to you, but doesn’t stop for a kiss or even a greeting. she simply gives you a look, as if to ask what you’re doing there, and you can tell by her clenched jaw that she’s still holding onto some frustration from that interaction.

“what’s that all about?” you ask, crossing your arms, motioning to the display from earlier.

“she’s just cocky.” megan shakes her head, making no attempt to apologize or explain otherwise. “but she has zero reason to be that arrogant. makes me irritated.”

“i’ve never seen you get irked like that before,” you say worriedly, your brows furrowing. “much less talk to a teammate like that. megan, you made the poor girl cry.”

“did you just un-ironically use the word irked?” she asks, ignoring the rest of your comment. you feel the irritation build up at how casually she’s treating all of this. your megan would never dream of turning the rink into something so toxic, so full of fear.

“i’m serious.” you warn her. “chill out. if your coaches thought ryujin needed the extra work, they would have made her run it over again.”

“fine, fine, i’ll apologize,” she shakes her head, reaching for her water bottle. “maybe i was too intense. sorry.”

“don’t say sorry to me,” you wave her off. 

you wait for her to finish up with the rest of the girls, but you can’t shake your discomfort at the side of megan you saw.

-

as it turns out, this isn’t the last incident megan has where her temper flares.

you’ve never once thought of her as an angry person, and considering the sport she devotes her life to, that was something you felt like you lucked out on. you somehow managed to bag the only hockey player in the world without a raging temper, your silly little girlfriend, easygoing and mellow. this lack of temper was what made her so good in her role, focused and intense, able to lock into what she needs to do without the distractions of her emotions. sure, anxiety would run rampant through her, but she’d turn that adrenaline into fuel to work smarter, never using it to snap at others.

you know it’s the stress getting to her, but after eunchae has to call you several times throughout the next few weeks, it’s starting to wear you thin, on top of already worrying you.

(what is happening to your sweet megan?)

your presence doesn’t do enough to deter her from some of the comments she makes, some of the harshness she takes out on the girls. dani’s obviously used to the verbal abuse she takes from the head coach and doesn’t do much about megan’s occasional tirade, but even if she did, you wonder what it’d take to get megan out of this headspace. you can see the way the girls look at her, eyes equally full of admiration and fear, and you never would have imagined your sweet captain would lead by fear, not in a million years.

with finals coming up, of course you’d rather focus on studying somewhere quiet, or going through flash cards with minji and marsh, but eunchae has asked you to stay just a few more practices. they’ve made it to the finals, and championship games are always a stressful time for the whole team, but if eunchae is worried, you know you should be too.

this night, she takes it too far, with haerin slipping up on a pass and accidentally sending it in the opposite direction of where the play requires. 

megan, seeing this, gets so angry that she takes her stick and snaps it over her knee, skating over wordlessly to grab another one without so much as a second look in haerin’s direction. you can see the younger girl and how her lip quivers, the way all the girls on the bench flinch as megan approaches, the way megan skates as if she has a chip on her shoulder.

practice ends, and you walk out wordlessly, deciding to wait for megan outside the building instead so you don’t end up calling her out in front of her friends.

she spots you as she steps out, showered and looking so cute with her skin pinking up against the chill of the december weather, but her eyes are dark and unreadable. you can tell she’s still internalizing the anger of the practice, still holding on to everything from the ice.

“that was too much, by the way,” you tell her, your voice stern and even. you’ve had enough of trying to guide her gently to self-correct.

“haerin keeps messing up the flow on the ice,” she defends herself, making no effort to reach for you.

“she’s new, she’s still getting the hang of it,” you remind her. “she’s just a freshman, megan, balancing the same things you did back then.”

“but i didn’t mess up when i was a freshman,” she pushes back, and your heart thuds painfully at how gruff her voice sounds. 

“megan, you’re also like a child prodigy,” you remind her gently, trying to bridge the gap by reaching for her hand. “you can’t expect everyone to be as good as you were.”

megan lets you hold her hand, but makes no effort to squeeze back. “dani expected that of me and look how i came out.”

“but you’re not dani,” you say. “and more importantly, they’re not you.”

megan shakes her head, dropping your hand to bite at her fingernails, an anxious habit of hers. “she can’t go pro making mistakes like that. none of them can.”

“megan, not everyone wants to go pro,” you remind her. “i get that you’re really good, but let people make mistakes and learn from them. i’m not trying to hurt your feelings, but you sound like a jerk.”

you realize the last part slips without your meaning to, but by the time you try to correct yourself, she’s already taken a step back, her brows furrowing.

“a jerk? seriously? for what, for trying to help everyone get to where they need to be?” she asks. “hard work is the only way to get there.”

“okay, relax ego,” you narrow your eyes at her, so, so confused where this stranger has come from. “yes, hard work is important, but so is knowing when to take a step back and just breathe. working hard shouldn’t cost you everything.”

megan dips her head, her serious eyes meeting yours in the dark of the evening, her expression cold and harsh.

“y/n, you’re not understanding. i’m the only person who can get them there. it’s me, or it’s nobody, and i’m not letting this team fail.”

“you’re not thinking straight. you’ve always been a captain that cares about building the girls up, not tearing them down when they don’t act like you.”

“if they gave half as much of a shit as i do, i wouldn’t need to set them straight,” she says frustratedly.

all you can manage to do is to take a step away from her, away from this unrecognizable stranger. you can empathize to the moon and back, but this isn’t your megan, and talking to her as if she is starts to make your stomach hurt.

“figure out what you want, and what it’s worth, because i don’t know what version of you this is,” you tell her, trying to step back, eager to put some space in between you and this stranger.

megan’s eyes are intense, nearly panicked, and for every step you take backwards, she moves forwards to keep looking in your eyes. 

“what if this is the only version of me? what then?” she pushes, her face tense.

“i don’t believe that. you can work hard and still be kind. you’ve never lost one in being the other. i don’t get why you’re letting yourself start now,” you push back, shaking your head.

“i can’t believe you’re picking a fight with me this week of all weeks,” megan groans, taking a step back and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“megan, i’ve been trying to be sensitive because i know you’re going through a lot, but it’s not just this week,” you tell her, frustrated that she’s trying to pin this on you. “it’s been the last few months.”

“i’m under a lot-” she starts, but you hold a hand up to cut her off.

“a lot of pressure, i know.” you grimace at the excuse everyone’s made for her, but you’ve had enough. you try to soften your voice, to plead with whatever part of her could rationally hear you. “i’m not asking you to give anything up, i’m just asking you to consider where your head’s at.”

her voice softens, meeting yours, and she lets out a quiet, pained breath. “i can’t lose focus.”

“i’m not trying to distract you,” you reassure her, reaching for her arm. “i just want to make sure you’re going to be okay.”

“i’ll be okay when we win and i’m drafted,” she says firmly, fixing her eyes on the ground.

“you’re losing yourself in the process,” you plead with her.

“this has always been me,” megan says quickly, finally bringing her gaze up to meet yours.

“no. you were never like this,” you push against her words, holding onto her hand by her index finger to reassure her. “i know that for a fact. you have never once been like this. when i met you, i thought you were the biggest jerk alive, and you proved me so wrong. that’s why i fell in love with you.” 

though you treasure the memory of getting to know her, something about the way you bring it up sets her off, her face hardening again as she pulls away from your grasp, yanking her arm back.

“i’m not that stupid freshman any more, and you’re not some hero who can save me again. i’m fucked if i don’t figure this out on my own. nobody’s coming to my rescue,” she spits angrily, a tone that shocks you.

“i didn’t mean it like i saved you,” you furrow your brows. “tutoring you was the best thing that ever happened to me. you’ve never been stupid—”

“i know you think i’m taking it too far but not everyone can just ace every class,” she blurts, interrupting you, taking another step away from you. “some of us don’t just get everything handed to them that easily.”

her words cut harsher than you could have ever imagined. firstly, the implication that you haven’t worked for what you’ve gotten to is extremely unfair, but even worse, it’s like your body wasn’t prepared to hear such words out of her mouth. in all your years together, megan had never once raised her voice, never once snapped at you, no matter how bad your disagreements got. she’d go quiet, take some space, and come right back ready to see things from a new perspective. never once had she insulted you— your walls have been down far enough you never thought that was a danger you’d need to protect yourself from.

“don’t talk to me like that,” you say simply, blinking back tears. “you’ve never talked to me like that.”

she’s too far gone into whatever headspace has taken over. you can see her eyes glaze over, forgetting where she is, who you are to her.

“i think-” she starts.

“megan,” your voice is sharp, a warning.

she blinks once, twice, her eyes fixing on something beyond you, unable to meet your eyes. “i think i just need a little bit to figure some things out.”

“i trusted you when you said you wouldn’t dream of hurting me,” you snap, hurriedly wiping the tears from your cheeks when you feel them fall, unsure of when they started spilling in the first place. “i don’t know where that girl went.”

you can see it shift in her eyes. the memory to her first championship game. your confession, her confession, how long ago it was and yet how fresh it felt to you.

“i’m hurting you,” she whispers, her face tensing.

“when you figure yourself out, let me know. when my megan comes back, you tell me, because i have no clue who you’ve turned into. i’ll be here.”

you turn on your heel and leave her to figure herself out. you don’t know where this leaves you, but she doesn’t chase after you, and that’s enough for now. 

-

minji and marsh are gone when you get home. you assume they’re on a date, which stings mildly as you remember all the double dates the four of you were able to fit in over the summer. you don’t need to bother minji with your drama right now, but being alone in the apartment means you need to figure something out to get megan out of your head and give her space. you’re hoping a few hours will give her what she needs to cool off, but the evening trickles by and you’re mindlessly on your phone, nothing to be heard from megan.

it’s close to midnight when you’re dozing off, startled awake by a sudden buzzing in your hand.

lara raj. she isn’t one to cold call, usually texting first, so you’re a bit worried about what this means for you.

you pick up, curious as to what she could need so late in the evening. 

“hey y/n,” she drawls, clearly trying to sound casual. “not to be super crazy or anything, but nobody’s seen megan since practice, and her location is off.”

“is she with you?” dani butts in quickly. 

you check your phone and realize megan has turned her location off for you as well, something she hasn’t done in your time dating (except for the time she tried planning a surprise birthday party for you, which she gave herself away several times with her terrible ability to keep anything secret.)

you figure she’s not planning any surprises and let out a sigh. “is she not replying?”

“no,” dani says.

“she hasn’t come home yet,” lara says simply, the concern palpable.

you take a beat before thinking back to her most likely spots. “have you checked the lake?”

“oh, duh, have we checked the lake,” you hear dani say in the background. 

“can you come with?” lara asks.

“i don’t think she wants to see me right now,” you admit. “we had a pretty bad fight.”

“a fight?” you hear dani’s disbelief palpably through the phone. “what the fuck?”

“megan?” lara clarifies, as if you could be possibly talking about anyone else.

“i don’t know who it was,” you shake your head.

“we’ll be there in a few.” dani tells you. “let’s go get her head on straight.”

they pick you up as promised just a small while later, and the three of you drive out to the park to see if your guess was right.

you can hear her before any of you see her. the clack of her stick against the ice, slapping pucks into the snowbank over and over again. you’re shivering even beneath your thick jacket and sweatpants, and you can tell megan’s been out here for a while based on how flushed her skin is, even in the dark.

“go away,” she says shortly as the three of you try to approach as peacefully as you can. lara and dani take the lead and you hang back, hoping to not make it feel like an ambush.

“baby’s grumpy?” lara teases gently, stepping out onto the ice with her, trying to keep her balance in her gripless sneakers. “c’mon meg.”

“fuck off,” megan responds curtly.

“um, who shat in your shoes?” dani arches a brow. “relax.”

“i need to focus,” she waves them off, and you realize she hasn’t spotted you yet.

“meg, don’t be rude,” lara pushes.

“you’re not the boss of me,” she snaps quickly, skating away to turn her back on them.

“i think you should go,” lara tells you quickly, eyes widening as she approaches you again.

“she doesn’t care that i’m here,” you scoff, motioning to how easily she can head off without realizing you’re there. you’ve never been mentally prepared for her cold shoulder, and being on the receiving end hurts more than you’d care to admit.

“she cares,” dani says quickly. “she’s just being stupid. i’ll prove it.”

“y/n?” megan looks up at the sound of your approach, and her eyes linger on you with something more, something like an apology in waiting. 

“apologize,” daniela says firmly.

“what?” megan gapes in surprise.

“fix it,” dani emphasizes, pulling you along towards her. you feel dani’s hand drop to your waist. 

in all your years of being friends, she’s never once tried anything with you, so the gesture feels both platonic and unusual all at once. you know she’s absolutely crazy about her girlfriend, and assume this has something to do with getting under megan’s skin, which you’re not thrilled about.

“don’t do that,” megan says quickly, and you can see it. her eyes darkening. you realize dani’s intention to set her off to prove a point.

“apologize. to lar first, and then to y/n,” dani repeats, her tone hard and bordering on aggressive. you remember this version of her, the night that she got into that fight, the way she so fearlessly stood up to those girls from the other team. you can’t believe megan’s at a point where her own best friend has to step up to her like this.

“i was never fucking scared of you,” megan snaps back, yanking dani’s hand off of you. 

she’s rough with dani, but when megan reaches for you to move you back, her hand is so gentle against your hip gently moving you to the side, and part of you relishes in the touch. you’ve missed her gentle self, the way she reaches for you with such tenderness. 

“well you fucking should be,” dani growls back. “you’re pissing me off, puppy, and off the clock, not as your coach— i’ll beat your ass.”

“dani, don’t ever put a finger on y/n again,” megan warns, and you feel yourself wish you could escape whatever is about to go down.

“you don’t get to be jealous girlfriend when you’re being the world’s biggest dick. y/n loves you, you owe her an apology,” daniela argues, kicking a puck in her direction.

“it’s fine,” you shake your head. “megan, i tried coming here to fix things, but you’re too stuck in your own head to see it. when you’re cooled off, i’ll be here. when you care about literally anything else but yourself, let me know.”

“you guys don’t care,” megan snaps, her brows tensed across her face angrily. “stop ganging up on me.”

“where is this victim complex coming from? we just want to help,” lara sighs.

but megan’s not finished, and she points her hockey stick threateningly in dani’s direction before looking to you apologetically. “and dani, don’t ever use y/n as bait again. i’m sorry they dragged you into this.”

“you’re dragging her into this with your fuckass attitude,” daniela calls her out, taking a challenging step closer. “give her a real apology.”

“megan…” you start, but megan and dani are too lost in their stand off for her to hear you.

“fuck you dani,” megan spits angrily. 

“they might have patience for you, but i don’t. fix it, now,” daniela presses back, reaching out once more for you as if it’s a threat.

in a flash, megan is rushing forward, dropping her shoulders to grip dani in a locked grasp and tackle her flat, slamming her back onto the ice.

“no, enough!” you scream quickly, leaping in to try and pull them off each other, but a soft pair of hands reach for you first.

“let them,” lara stops you, holding you back by the sleeve. “meg needs it out of her system.”

“not like this,” you grimace, trying to reach for her again, but lara simply holds a hand out to stop you.

“it’s a hockey thing,” she shakes her head. 

you watch as daniela wrestles for control over the grapple, what megan has over her in size and strength, dani more than makes up for in technique. megan’s on top for a few frightening moments before dani maneuvers them easily into a flip, quickly wiggling her way out to now straddle the taller girl. you gasp and feel your stomach drop as dani doesn’t hesitate to land one, two, three quick blows to megan’s exposed face, the ginger bringing her arms up to try and shield herself. 

megan ducks out of the way of the fourth punch and lets dani punch the ice beneath them instead, the older girl groaning as her fist makes contact with the solid, frozen wall. megan uses the quick break to land a harsh blow of her own to the side of dani’s face, throwing her quickly off of her as daniela reels from the strike to her eye.

you’ve had enough. yes, you’re mad at megan, but that doesn’t stop you from caring about her, and watching her fight some of the people she loves most pains you beyond imagination. you turn on your heel and escape to the street, quickly seeking the closest uber to come pick you up. you feel sick at what you’ve seen them all come to: megan, her friends, her team. you hope a night apart will give them all a chance to sort themselves out.

-

you’re too distressed to sleep even in your own bed, not wanting to be surrounded by the memories of megan cuddling you or the pictures of her you have scattered throughout your room. you come home and fall asleep on the couch in the living room, hoping you’ll wake up to some sort of clarity. 

no texts from megan, a missed call from daniela, 3 missed messages from lara.

you bite back the knot in your stomach and close your eyes, deciding you’ll ditch class today to focus on studying.

you sleep through the morning and wake to the smell of breakfast from the kitchen, the sound of the tv kicking on with no concern for your sleeping body. leave it to minji to play animal crossing at full volume even when you’re clearly trying to sleep.

“you’re such a dick, dude,” you groan as she sits next to you on the couch, unphased by your attempts to rest.

“good morning,” minji pokes your cheek. “it’s noon, by the way.”

“what do you want?” you roll your eyes, trying to turn the opposite direction.

“haven’t seen you sleep out here since we moved in,” she observes, eyes focused on the tv the whole time as she assesses the status of her island. “you good? where’s puckhead?”

“she’s been busy,” you say simply, not exactly eager to relive the events of last night.

“ah,” minji says simply. “too busy to say hi to her friends?”

“too busy to be nice to her girlfriend,” you say, hoping it’s enough.

“pouting doesn’t suit you, it’s gross,” minji grimaces. 

“be nice,” marsh yells out from the kitchen, always so quick to run to your rescue. 

“what are you trying to get at?” you wrinkle your nose at minji.

she shrugs, taking a hit from her pen as she keeps her gaze steady on the screen. “megan is a massive loser, yes—”

“minji,” marsh warns once more, as if it’s the only thing she’s capable of doing. “be nice!”

“i am best friends with the most emotionally incompetent person in the world,” you groan, trying to hide your face behind a random throw pillow.

“listen to me, i’m cooking or whatever,” minji says irritatedly. you find it hard to believe that she’s worth listening to: your half-high roommate, in her spiderman underwear and an old oversized t shirt, acting like she’s some oracle. but you’re sort of out of options, and minji’s put the controller down, so at this point you might as well hear her out. “megan is a loser, because she’s scared of a lot. and when she’s not being a loser, she’s acting not-scared, but what are the chances of her still being scared?”

“i know who megan is,” you tell minji, hoping she gets to her point sooner rather than later.

“you’ve never seen her too scared to find a solution. this might be it,” she says simply, staring into your eyes with her own serious ones. “she might be pushing you away while she thrashes around, ‘cause she’s never figured out how to navigate hard shit around others. she’s always had someone to fall back on, now she’s the fallback.”

“i know all this,” you say as if it’s obvious.

“but does she know that you know all this, or are you still just bagging on her for not having it figured out the way you do?” she asks, and the weight of her words hits you. “are you judging her for getting it wrong, when she’s never been taught how to get it right for something this serious?”

“thank you,” you whisper quietly under your breath, realizing this is the wakeup call you needed. you sit up and check the calendar— megan’s schedule is packed to the brim until her game at 6. 

her final championship game of her college career.

“you wouldn’t be with her if it weren’t for me.” minji says, self-satisfied smirk on her lips as she goes back to playing her game. “think of that next time you insult me.”

“you’re not that emotionally constipated after all,” you beam, wrapping her into a quick hug. even though she simply sits there and grunts, you know your roommate has your back.

“told you she could be nice,” marsh laughs from the kitchen, coming out to offer you a smoothie she’s put together. “we can drive you to the game later, if we’re still invited.”

“of course you guys are,” you reassure her. “i wouldn’t be with megan if it weren’t for minji.”

“and i wouldn’t be with minji if it weren’t for megan,” danielle beams. “we all sort of owe each other, in a weird square sort of way.”

“meg loves all things weird,” you smile. 

-

the first championship game you ever came to, you made it late. every game since then, you’ve been sure to show up at least an hour early, seated in front of the player box, where megan’s tickets get you the best seats in the whole arena, and this time will be no different. 

you still remember how excited she got when you custom ordered a university jersey with her last name, especially since college sports don’t allow selling custom merch. wearing your one-of-one “skiendiel” jersey seems fitting.

you think to text her and see if you can steal her away for a second, but before you can do anything, you spot the flash of ginger wandering out of the locker room. you can see the paleness in her face, the way her lip is bright red from how hard she’s been chewing it, the clear tells of how unwell she’s feeling. your heart aches for her, and before you can help it, you’re barrelling towards her, not caring where she might possibly need to be right now.

you collide into her with enough force to push her backwards, but she’s steady enough on her feet to take the hit and keep you both standing. your arms wrap around her and you’re breathing her in, her comforting scent, her familiar warmth, her strength and her softness all at once.

she melts into you as soon as you grip into her, pressing her nose into the top of your head as her arms wrap even tighter around you. the hug feels so, so comforting, leaving so much in the air lingering without causing either of you to suffer for a moment longer.

“you still came?” she asks in disbelief, those big eyes taking you in as she moves to take a step backwards and eye you over. you can see her seriousness melt away as she takes you in, the jersey, your presence, your genuine excitement to see her. 

“i haven’t missed a championship game since i met you,” you remind her, offering a gentle smile as a peace offering. “sure as hell wasn’t going to miss your very last one.”

megan opens her mouth to say something, but she pauses, her face twisting into something pained. you can tell she’s remembering the events of the night before. you take her in, realizing there’s some bruising around her cheekbone from her fight with daniela.

“i hurt you,” she says simply, clamping her eyes shut with a grimace.

“well i love you, and i have for a long time, and i think i know you pretty well. i don’t think you meant to hurt me.” you offer quietly, reaching for her hand. “i think my megan is in there still, just scared.”

“i’m fucking terrified.” you finally hear her admit it, and you look down to realize her hands are shaking. “of everything. this game, my career, our future.”

“you don’t have to be,” you reassure her, trying to reach out to steady her hand.

“i don’t have anything else going for me,” she breathes out, trying to even out her nerves. “you don’t understand.”

“i don’t see it that way,” you push back gently.

“i’m going to go play this game, and then i’m going to beg for forgiveness for being the worst girlfriend ever and a shit communicator.” she quickly takes both your hands in hers, bringing them up to her chest. you can feel her racing pulse against your palms, thudding against her ribs. “and if you’re still mad at me, i totally get it and i’ll go jump off a bridge asap.”

“shut up,” you laugh, and she breaks out into a smile that makes you feel like everything might just end up being okay.

“i’ll keep apologizing as a ghost, i’m serious,” she’s still sticking to the bit, but you can see her eyes start to tear up. “i messed up so bad. i’m really sorry.”

“go do what you do best,” you reach up to kiss her nose, careful to avoid the bruising. “i’ll be here, cheering you on like always.”

“i don’t want this to be the only thing i do best. i want to be a good friend, and a good girlfriend, and a good person,” she says determinedly.

“i love you,” you reassure her.

“nice,” she beams, and you laugh at how only she could make a tender moment so, so stupid.

“at least say like, samesies or some shit,” you beg.

“will you accept ditto?” she asks.

“if i have to,” you wrinkle your nose.

“cool then, ditto,” she grins, reaching down to press a gentle, pleading kiss against your lips. “i love you a lot, y/n. i’m sorry again.”

“you got this,” you reassure her once more, and you can hear the calls of the coaches beckoning her over. 

you wave her goodbye and find your seats again, busying yourself debriefing minji and her girlfriend, shooting a text to lara to let her know the resolution you’ve reached.

the two teams make it onto the ice and you spot the ginger braids peeking out from beneath the helmet, the way megan waves to the entire arena for what will be the last time in her college career. you can see her taking it in, deciding what she’s going to make of tonight, who she’s choosing to be right now. 

you spot dani coming out with the rest of the coaches, sporting a particularly gnarly black eye, no doubt courtesy of your girlfriend. she seems tense, but as soon as she spots you in the stands and glances back at megan, who is simply smiling at you, she nods approvingly and claps to get the team’s attention. they have a team huddle, and you can see the nervous eyes of so many of the newer girls darting around as the cheers from the arena get louder and louder, announcing the impending drop of the puck for the face-off.

eunchae leads them in a chant, and megan sends them off with the team battle shout, each of them slamming their gloves into the helmet of the girl next to them, a tradition dani had started with megan as a sophomore. it’s so cool to see them hyping themselves up, turning their nerves into pure adrenaline, and you see megan lock into her mindset of pure focus as she heads onto the face-off with a look of sheer determination.

the puck drops and she’s off like lightning, the puck nearly invisible with how quick she wields it. you look out to the ice, seeing the new faces, the way things have changed. eunchae stays in the back, holding down the defenseman’s position, but instead of lara, maya guards the goal protectively. instead of yunjin covering defense with eunchae, now it’s moka, looking determinedly out across the ice. instead of kazuha and dani working together to move the offense back and forth in their favor, like clockwork, like mirror images, it’s ryujin and haerin, a bit more scattered, but still quick, still eager, still lightning fast on the ice to pressure their offense.

and the anchor of the team, megan as center, carrying the weight of the team on her shoulders. it’s up to her to score, to call plays, to navigate traps, to see holes in the defense and predict where the offense is going to be. it’s her job to protect maya as the goalie from ever having to see the puck, to trust that moka and eunchae know what they’re doing and can cover the back end of the ice on defense, it’s her job to read ryujin’s movements and see where haerin is trying to take them, to weave between the two of them and catch every pass or assist every shot they try to make. 

hockey is the thing you almost lost your megan to, but watching her on the ice, the way she seems to almost float effortlessly and maneuver the puck with insane expertise, reminds you exactly why she’s poured all she has into this sport— to be the best, nothing less.

you stay on your feet for the entirety of the game, eagerly watching each stolen pass or shot taken. even minji, seated next to you, and often unbothered by most sporting events, seems moved to cheer for megan every time the ginger steals another pass or tries to move into a shooting position.

the game is tense. the first period ends in a drought, a simple 0-0 that sets the tone for an even more aggressive 2nd period, the other team ramping up their efforts to blitz maya in the goal with a more aggressive offense. 

megan, who picks up on this immediately, calls out to eunchae, and eunchae immediately compensates by playing harsher on the incoming offense, clearly indicating that she will not hesitate to protect her goalie at all costs. you can see maya’s confidence grow with each protective shot cut off by eunchae, the way moka eventually finds her stride and manages to cut off several incoming attempts, shooting them straight back up the ice at megan. 

you’ve never been part of a team like that, but you can tell that the girls are finding their groove, megan’s leadership doing more than just keeping them from losing, but building their synergy, the trust between all of them. you see an opposing offense come in, slipping past ryujin, but moka is quick to call out to maya, who in her increasing confidence, is all too quick to catch the puck before it can even try to hit the net.

megan doesn’t take a chance to let her guard down, but she pumps her fist excitedly at the save, yelling out something to the defense line that has moka beaming and maya matching her smile. 

eunchae catches your eye by the end of the second period, sending you a thumbs up. you feel your chest lighten. you see it in the way they move, in the way megan keeps nodding back at all of them, orchestrating them on the ice, hearing the coach’s directions and implementing them as she sees fit. the joy in her eyes is back. she’s truly, sincerely enjoying herself for what looks like the first time all season.

0-0 in the final period is not a good sign for either team. you know megan is going to ramp up her attacks. she’s described her playstyle as more opportunistic before— whereas kazuha was conservative, and daniela had the stamina to be relentless, megan has always described wanting to play smarter, to find holes and exploit them instead of waiting for clarity or rushing to catch the defense off guard. any other players would start to panic, maybe play sloppy, but megan is a threat because she can wait, and she can watch, and be quick enough to strike without hesitation.

you can see it in the eyes of the other team’s girls, trying to goad her into picking a fight with one of them. they’re getting rougher with her, slamming her around more aggressively than her position would ever call for, even when she doesn’t have the puck. 

but megan, more determined than ever, keeps her gaze laser focused on exactly where she needs to be.

the clock trickles down, and even though their defense has done an amazing job of preventing any shots, you know it’s up to megan and the offense to get a score up on the board. they wrestle over the pick over and over, the push of both teams trying to get up on the other. you watch in eager anticipation as the game risks going into overtime, the minutes trickling down into the very end of the game without a single score between the two of them.

the other team gets sloppy in one of their attempted scores and you see megan lock in on the mistake. eunchae blocks the shot and their full team is pushed too far up, the pass she sends to megan leaving the center wide open to take an easy shot. it’s obvious, painfully so, that this is it. you feel the stadium pause with baited breath as the puck makes it into megan’s possession, her feet making quick work of moving her halfway up the rink to close the gap in seconds.

megan looks at the goal, then back at the girls. a split second decision. you know it’s her shot to take, wide open and easy enough for her to send.

you see something flash over her features, the vision of her future in front of her very eyes.

in a move that shocks even you, she sends the puck forward, flying straight to haerin. 

haerin freezes, handling the puck for a brief moment before realizing the opening she has. she’s waited a bit too long, by the time she takes the shot, the other team’s defense is already swarming in on her.

the next 20 seconds are a blur. the opposing team gains possession of the puck and megan does everything in her power to chase the other center out of their box, but they’re too late. the opposing offense makes quick work of overwhelming eunchae and moka, leaving a gap for their center to take a shot. maya, despite her speed, isn’t fast enough to block the shot, and you hear the buzz of the shot making it in. seconds trickle by, and the final buzzer goes off to announce the end of the final period.

you look at the finishing score. 0-1.

you hold your breath, spotting the girls all dumbfoundedly shaking hands with the other team as they celebrate their victory, and making their way off the ice. even the coaches are in silence, and you can see megan’s face, hard and stony, as she takes her helmet off her head.

the team crams into the box, all looking expectantly to their captain. you’re half worried she’ll erupt, but you trust her. you walk up to the box and watch their interaction through the glass.

she breaks out into a gentle, almost goofy smile. she looks like a little kid, good naturedly taking the loss on the chin.

“good game,” megan nods, and the girls all seem to take a breath of relief at her simple words.

“i cost us the shot.” you hear haerin’s voice pierce through the air, quaking angrily. the forward throws her stick onto the ground, her face tensing. “why didn’t you just take it, megan? you would have made it.”

“you had just as much chance of making it as i did,” megan says firmly.

“i lost us the game,” haerin’s eyes water.

“i believed in you, it’s okay.” megan pulls her glove off with her teeth, reaching her bare hand to grab haerin by the back of the neck and pull her closer, forcing her to look up at the captain. haerin is still biting back tears, but megan nods reassuringly. “it’s not your fault they made their own shot. kang, you’ll make your shot next year.”

“next year you won’t be here,” haerin pushes back anxiously.

“i was here this year and we didn’t win. i’m not what matters. i’m just glad i had an amazing time playing with all of you,” she smiles once more. “thanks for the kick ass game, guys.”

maya is the first to break out into tears, tackling megan into a giant hug that the rest of the girls swarm into immediately. 

“we’ll make the shot next year,” ryujin promises, between sobs.

“i’ll kill someone to make sure they don’t ever get a point over on us again,” moka threatens, crying into megan’s shoulder.

“you’re missing the point,” megan glares at the underclassmen, laughing as the girls take it too far. eunchae, still panting from the game, beams back at her.

“thanks for thinking i could do it, cap,” haerin tells her, her voice soft. “i’ll make sure it happens next year.” 

daniela having watched the whole thing, shoos the girls to break up their huddle and eyes megan, before patting her on the back.

“that’s what a captain does,” she says simply, approvingly. “good call, meg.”

megan wrinkles her nose sheepishly at the assistant coach, noting the bruise she’s sporting. “sorry for the black eye, dani.”

“that was you?” eunchae asks in disbelief, but the two friends ignore her.

“i’m just sorry i didn’t break your nose. don’t ever piss me off like that again, ‘cause i’ll do real damage next time, alright meiyok?” dani threatens, but instantly hooks megan by the neck and presses a kiss into her head. “i think someone wants to talk to you.”

dani motions to you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, megan’s eyes light up as she catches sight of you.

years ago, the older girls would tease her and make kissy noises when you’d come up to her after a game. now, megan’s respected, the leader figure, and the girls all scatter to give you guys some space as she takes off what she can of her gear before making it out of the box and coming up to you.

“what was that?” you ask, curious into her mindset about giving the pass to haerin. she could have taken the shot and clinched the win to no-one’s criticism, so you’re truly curious what her mindset was for this call.

“dani always trusted me to make shots. she gave almost all her shots to me by the middle of my first season. that’s what gave me the confidence to try, and to get good, and to feel like i could do it and keep up with her.” she explains. “and you trusted me enough to give me a chance. that’s what helped me branch out, and know i was capable. i love teams, i love improving, i love the trust. not winning. i’m sorry i lost sight of that.”

you smile and wrap your arms around her neck. you see it now— megan gives up her investment in herself to invest in the future for these girls, the thing she truly believes in, the thing that made her the perfect captain. she gives up the win to instill the love of the sport in the next generation.

“i have a lot to make right to you,” she continues, her hands shaky as they wrap around your waist, and you feel so, so at home in her embrace. “i have a lot to make up for.”

“i missed you,” you shake your head, just grateful to have her back. the rest will easily fit into place.

“i missed you too.” she hums, pressing her forehead against yours. “never letting that out of sight again. i’m sorry.”

you decide she’s done enough apologizing. you scoop her chin into your hand and melt into a kiss, the sweat from her nose dripping onto you, but you don’t mind. she wraps her arms even tighter around your waist and kisses you back so eagerly it makes your heart thud.

“i was crazy about you then, i’m still crazy about you now,” she tells you, lifting you and spinning you around. “probably gonna be crazy about you forever.”

you laugh and hug her even tighter. the whole thing feels like a win in your book. 

“you know what?” you beam. 

“what?” she grins back at you curiously.

“ditto.”

-

the next morning, megan is giving her statements about their loss in the conference room, but she isn’t solemn or sullen about it. she’s bright-eyed, eager, like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. 

after the coach announces eunchae as next year’s captain (the department clearly learning their lesson about letting the captains make such an announcement) there’s a quick question from one of the reporters to megan about her future in the wnhl and her plans to pursue hockey.

“hockey gave me everything, and i gave it everything,” she says simply, nothing more, nothing less. she flashes a quick, nervous smile, and it’s perfect for her, the balance of sincere and dorky that made you fall for her in the first place.

“what’s next for you?” another reporter asks, trying to goad her into opening up further about her prospects.

“whatever is next, i’ll give it 100%,” megan says carefully. “and i’ll be grateful, and i’ll remember what matters to me. the love of the game, nothing else.”

she nods awkwardly and excuses herself from the table, letting dani and the head coach take over the rest of the questions about what they plan to do without their star player.

you greet megan with a kiss on the cheek, and she returns the gesture by pressing a kiss into the top of your head.

“what’s really next?” you ask, motioning to the google calendar you share that she hasn’t updated for the day.

“uh, will you help me study for finals?” she asks, almost shyly, and you can almost see it play back. your first class together, how awkward she was asking for your notes. it makes your heart flip inside your chest.

“no more interviews?” you question.

“coach and dani can do them together. i need to focus on right now, and right now is a bitchass english final due in 48 hours that my girlfriend would know exactly how to study for,” megan informs you, and you laugh at her determination.

the two of you escape hand in hand out of the building and start making your way towards the library to get a head start on preparing for finals.

you catch her staring at you as you walk, peering out of the corner of her eye. her cheeks flush as she realizes she’s been spotted, and she tries distracting you instead by taking off her letterman jacket and insisting on placing it over your shoulders.

“what?” you question, accepting the jacket without protest.

“you are really so pretty,” megan breathes out nervously. 

“thank you,” you smile back at her. those big brown eyes, her button nose, her dimples. “you’re so fucking cute.”

“you make me nervous,” she mumbles quietly.

“still?” you ask in disbelief.

“always have,” she nods, and the way she breathes out makes you feel like she’s finally able to start thinking about what she wants, instead of what she’s afraid of. “you have from the start.”

-

finals are grueling, but you both manage to pass all your exams, and spend your winter break making up for lost time now that the season is over. your anniversary quickly approaches, and megan ditches off-season practice where she’s supposed to be training eunchae in order to spend the whole day with you.

(it’s her first time ever ditching practice since starting the sport, and you don’t take it lightly.)

she’s losing pitifully to you in the snowball fight you’re currently halfway through, and it doesn’t escape you that she’d put her phone on do not disturb in order to focus on you. the last time you two were at the lake, it was her fight with dani, and the time before that, your date that had gotten cut short, so this date feels like it’s making up for all the terrible experiences you’d previously shared.

and what’s best, is that megan is perfectly fine with just playing in the snow, no longer insisting on teaching you how to skate.

her phone falls out of her pocket as she tries packing another snowball to toss at you, and you notice that even through dnd, her mom has called her at least four times since your date has started. megan’s mom is close to megan, but not exactly the clingy type, so this raises a flag for you.

“why is your mom blowing you up?” you ask, pointing to your phone as she picks it up out of the snow. “everything okay?”

“i’m not interrupting another date to take a stupid phone call,” she furrows her brow, preparing to tuck it back into her jacket.

“it’s your mom, meg,” you reassure her, laughing at her determination to be better. “it’d be different if it was coach.”

“fine,” she grumbles.

she takes the phone off and brings it to her ear, a quick greeting in cantonese before you hear her mom rambling something at a million miles an hour. you grin and tackle her backwards into a snowbank, the two of you sinking into the powder with a laugh as you simply rest on top of her while she keeps chatting away with her mom. 

it seems like the usual check in until you see megan’s face change, her features widening, her skin going pale. you almost insist that she put it on speaker before she quickly hangs up. you realize her hands are shaking as they slip the phone back into her pocket.

“you know how my mom does all my management stuff?” she starts, voice wobbly.

“loser,” you laugh, realizing that megan has kept all her management as her mom’s job instead of hiring a real agent. “but continue.”

she gives you a blank stare, her mind clearly not fully there following the phone call.

“they want me for the olympic women’s hockey team,” she says simply, and you feel your jaw drop.

“holy shit, megan,” you gasp.

“the winter olympics are in london next year,” she tells you, and the two of you connect the dots at the exact same time. “you’ll be halfway through your program.”

“that’s convenient,” you beam.

“olympic players always go back in the draft,” megan tells you, her words picking up in pace, her voice growing more and more excited. “i’ll take a month or two off to sight see, and then i’ll go to the combine for drafting. if i’m lucky, a team will pick me up as soon as i’m done.”

“megan, that’s amazing,” you bury your face into her neck to wrap her in a tight hug. “your dream is coming true.”

“my dream isn’t hockey,” she corrects you quickly, running a hand through your hair. “it’s just a future where i’m happy. think you’ll be part of it?”

“wherever you get drafted i’ll go with you,” you nod reassuringly. the smile she gives you back is worth everything to you.

she scoops up a pile of snow and shoves it in your face. you scream with laugher and scoop up one to smash right back into her nose, watching as she tries to wiggle herself out from under you and shove you further into the snowbank.

-

the semester is grueling, but you make it through in one piece, and so does megan. graduation rolls around before you even realize it, and your time as college students is quickly coming to an end. 

at the graduation, you and megan have to split up as you separate into your different majors and departments, but she presses a kiss to your forehead before you depart. 

“i’ll be the loudest cheer in the room,” she promises, smiling at you. you can’t help but admire how cute she looks in her cap and gown. the way the cap just slightly brushes her eyebrows reminds you of how low she used to wear her beanies, and how she still sometimes will.

you shuffle into line and take inventory of all your friends from the year, all the things this university has given you. sophia in the crowd next to your family, minji and danielle in their own caps and gowns waving from their section in the graduation lineup. you know daniela and lara are cheering you on from their spot with megan’s family.

the department heads read off the names, and you feel your ears perk up as they approach the name of the ginger that had come out of nowhere your freshman year and changed everything for you.

“megan skiendiel.”

you hear an air horn go off, followed by another, and the whole arena erupts into an echo of cheers. you can see from the crowd where several people have printed up blow up heads and are waving them around. you can make out some of the newer girls and realize nearly 2 full rows of seats are taken up by the entire women’s hockey team, the babies who’d follow megan anywhere even with all they’ve been through. they wave the blow up heads wildly around, cheering at the top of their lungs as if they’re at a game and not at some respectable academic demonstration.

you see megan’s cheeks flush as soon as she spots the stupid display, no doubt daniela and lara’s idea. she takes her degree and makes her way off stage.

your department comes next, and you beam as you take to the stage.

“y/n y/ln, graduating magna cum laude.”

you can hear the uproar from your loved ones, but one voice is cheering longer and louder than all the rest. you look down at the graduates and see megan with her hands cupped around her mouth, cheering as loudly as possible. you see her eyes shining brightly. she’s usually not a huge fan of bringing attention to herself, but your stupid, goofy megan doesn’t stop cheering the whole time you’re on stage.

your families join after the ceremony into one giant group, made even more chaotic by the fact that the entire women’s hockey team is eagerly trying to fit into the picture as well.

megan smiles at you, and takes your hand in hers. in that exact moment, you can’t picture anything you’d ever want more than this.

-

your phone background is a countdown of how many days are left until megan lands. it’s been a grueling 4 months without her, but she’ll be in your city prepping for the olympics in no time at all. plus, she’s sent weekly care packages, and her twice daily facetimes make it a little more bearable. 

you admire your desk, the way your life has all fallen into place. 

on your bulletin board, pictures of your life: you, minji, and marsh, all posing at one of megan’s games your junior year. you and megan celebrating her second championship game win. you and megan on the beach when she had brought you to hawaii to meet her family the summer after sophomore year. a photo of the two of you at the surprise party the underclassmen had planned just before summer ended. one of you and sophia at the renaissance fair. megan cheering you on at your senior capstone presentation. the photo of everyone from graduation. one of the first photos you had ever taken of her, a picture from freshman year during one of your many study sessions.

your hands unpack the envelope that megan had saved for you specifically. the magazine drops into your hands, and the familiar eyes look back up at you from the photo on the cover. 

you hold the magazine up and look up proudly at the cover. the sullivan award, amateur athlete of the year: megan skiendiel. 

megan. your megan, as she’s always been.