#but all of a sudden THIS YEAR is different

[joelscruff]

imperfect for you (joel miller x f!reader)

masterlist | a/n written for @janaispunk's 1500 kisses challenge! i got joel + nose kisses with this lovely moodboard and actually managed to write something!!! believe it or not this started out as a drabble lmao. i hope you like it jana - sorry it's a bit late, and congrats again on your milestone 🤍 summary: you never thought joel miller would accidentally call you baby. warnings: age gap (joel is mid 40s, reader is 23), fluff, very brief instance of blood, tending to a wound, joel is eepy, soft kisses, cuddles word count: 5.5k ao3 dividers by @saradika-graphics

"When's the last time you slept?"

He doesn't bother to grace you with an answer, hands clenched on the steering wheel as you barrel down the vacant stretch of highway back to Lincoln. He's been ignoring you for the past fifteen minutes now, eyes straight ahead, brow furrowed, jaw clenched. But he looks pale, almost sickly, the whites of his knuckles stark against the sudden greenish hue of his skin. The last thing you need is for him to pass out and for the two of you to crash into a damn ditch.

"I'm just saying," you continue with an exasperated sigh, "I could drive the rest of the way, we're almost there."

No reply. You roll your eyes and cross your arms indignantly in the passenger seat, returning his icy demeanor. He's in one of his moods again, the ones only Tess really knows how to handle, but you'd volunteered to try your hand at a supply run in her stead which means she's not here to mediate. You should've known some issue would arise, stubborn Joel inventing problems in typical Joel fashion.

"You could've tried to last at least one more hour pretending to like me," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. He doesn't say anything.

Almost a year of working with them now, and you still don't understand him. You're not sure you ever will. Tess, she's much easier to understand, much more open to being understood. She'd seen your potential and taken you under her wing, brought you in to help, taught you everything you needed to know about smuggling. And Joel... well, he's a different story.

"You know, Tess thinks I have promise," you continue anyway, expression crumpling into a scowl, "She thinks I can do this. I don't get why you don't."

No answer.

"And don't say it's 'cause I'm a kid, because I'm not. I'm twenty three now, I'm past the point of being called a fucking kid. The shit I've seen in that QZ-" you cut yourself off, shaking your head, "I'm not a kid."

His lack of response is beginning to hurt deeper than you'd really like to admit. You glance over at him again; he's still staring straight ahead, still ignoring your presence. It makes unwanted tears prick in your eyes, nose stinging a little as you peer down at your lap and fold your hands together.

You'd been excited for this supply run, probably against your better judgement. You'd wanted to show him how much you know and understand, how hard you've been working, how you're up to the task. Hoped maybe he'd give you a smile - rare, but not impossible - and tell you that you did good, that he sees potential in you too.

You care what he thinks, almost more than what Tess thinks. And you know why, can sense it deep in the pit of your stomach and in the way your heart stutters when he looks at you, but you're clearly living in a fantasy world if you think he's ever gonna get past whatever this stigma is that he has against your age. She's too young, Tess. She'll get hurt, Tess. She shouldn't be doin' this, Tess. You've heard it all, muffled through closed doors in a dark and damp hallway.

He doesn't want you, and you're not sure how much longer you can go on like this. If he's not willing to change his stance, view you as anything other than an inconvenience...maybe Tess will have to find somebody else to help out.

"I know what I'm doing," you mumble, a tear dribbling down your left cheek, "I just wanna help."

You spare him one more look, fruitlessly hoping that maybe he'll feel bad now that he's made you cry - a childish thought, considering you're trying to make a case for being mature, but you can't help it. You know he's capable of being gentle, of being kind. You've experienced it with him before, quiet moments between the two of you in his apartment while waiting for Tess to return, making small talk, him peering at you with a softness in those brown eyes that have since made frequent appearances in your dreams. Moments where you swear you felt wanted under that gaze, but it must've been in your head, because you certainly don't feel wanted right now.

He doesn't look well, you have to admit. His skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, getting paler by the second, turning an unnatural grey color akin to some of the hair on his head. His eyes are glassy, dark bags settled beneath them that you've noticed getting worse and worse over the past few weeks. You shoot a glance at his hands again and are surprised to see that he's loosened his grip, that his fingers seem to be trembling against the rubber.

"Joel," you say, raising your voice a bit, "Joel, are you okay?"

His lack of response no longer angers you - it worries you. Carefully, you reach over and slowly wrap your hand around his right wrist, eyes trained on his face. At your touch, he finally turns to look at you, almost like he's only just noticed you're even there.

"You say somethin'?" he asks, voice raspy, a bit slurred.

Your grip tightens on his wrist, "I think you should stop the car."

He looks at you curiously, dazedly. It's the expression of a man who's running on two, maybe three hours of sleep in the last few days. You choose your next words carefully, eyes flickering back and forth toward his face and the road that he's suddenly no longer watching.

"Let's slow down a bit," you murmur, thumb stroking gently along his skin - he's warm, warmer than normal - "I'm gonna drive the rest of the way, okay?"

You expect some pushback, an attempt at an argument, but the tiredness is setting in quickly. Without any hesitation he eases his foot off the gas and you hurriedly reach your own leg over into his space to push down on the brake. He doesn't seem to notice the way your bare leg brushes his jeans, the crease in your knee bending over the warmth of his thigh.

"There we go," you say softly, bringing the car to a slow stop. He's still looking at you, eyes unfocused as you carefully lean over a little more to unbuckle his seatbelt. You try to ignore how good he smells, how big he is compared to you, putting all your attention on getting him out of the front seat. You unlock his door and then unbuckle your own belt, hurrying out of the car to his side.

"M'okay," he mumbles as soon as you open his door. You start to help him out, and you think he's becoming a little more aware of the situation now, allowing you to pull him to his feet as you tug open the back door. "What's happenin'?"

"You're just tired," you tell him softly, "It's okay, you can sleep in the back, I'll drive."

"Bill n' Frank's," he says as you lead him the right way, pushing him a little and helping him place his knee down on the seat, "Y'know where it is? You remember?"

"I do," you tell him confidently, your hand coming down to press flat against his back - he's so solid, heat radiating against your palm, "Only twenty minutes away now, I got it. You just sleep."

He doesn't argue; in fact, he makes your job easier by crawling onto the seat and settling down with a low groan, rolling onto his back and breathing deeply. You can't help but let a small smile cross your features, watching as one of his hands comes up to rest atop his belly, the other dangling onto the floor. His eyelashes flutter a little, lips parting, and you're about to shut the door when he speaks again.

"I know you jus' wanna help, baby."

You stand there for a moment just staring at him, confusion racing through your thoughts. Goosebumps rise on your flesh as the last word repeats like a mantra in your head, steady and slow as Joel drifts off. It's only when the door is shut and you're in the front seat that you're able to put some meaning to the words, eyes wide as you stare at the faded lines on the road.

I know what I'm doing, you'd said, I just wanna help.

You leave him in the car when you get to Bill and Frank's, typing in the gate code with a backward glance at his loose form in the backseat. They must see him on one of the security monitors, because as soon as the doors open you spot them sprinting out of the house toward you, a scanner gripped in Bill's hand. Typical.

"He's okay," you tell them as soon as you're out of the car, instantly alleviating their stress, "He's just exhausted, I think he needs to sleep for a little while."

"Understatement of the century," Frank replies with a relieved laugh, eyeing the backseat, "Think we can get him in the house?"

"Just leave him in the car," Bill says with a wave of his hand, already turning to head back towards the house with the scanner hanging out of his pocket, "He'll be fine."

Your gaze meets Frank's and he rolls his eyes, "Come on, baby, let's get him upstairs." Your brows go up at the pet name, the same word that had fallen from Joel's lips only twenty minutes ago, but then Bill is shuffling back over with an annoyed look on his face and you quickly realize he's not talking to you.

Getting Joel out of the car proves to be a lot more difficult than getting him in. You try a gentle approach at first, brushing his arm and stroking his skin with your thumb again like you'd done earlier. You can feel Frank's eyes on you as you squeeze Joel's bicep, his wrist, his thigh, and you pretend you don't see the look that passes between him and Bill as you step out to let them take a turn.

Bill goes for a much more aggressive approach, shaking Joel's shoulders wildly and practically yanking him out of the car. Understandably, Joel wakes with a gasp and kicks his legs out, hand reaching for his pistol as he frantically tries to escape Bill's grasp. Before he can grab it though, he's suddenly falling forward, knees buckling as he faceplants onto the pavement beside the car.

Well, that certainly wakes him up. His hands press into the gravel and his head shoots up, blood trickling down his nose as he peers up at the three of you, stunned.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Bill," Frank groans.

"That was not my fault."

Ignoring them, you kneel down and gently touch Joel's shoulder, a concerned look on your face as you eye the splattered blood on the ground, "Fuck, are you okay?"

"What in the hell is goin' on?" he groans, turning to look at you, "Did Bill just break my fuckin' nose?"

"Don't be dramatic," Bill barks, spinning on the spot and heading into the house, "Shoulda just left you in the car."

Joel starts scrambling after him, rising up and standing on wobbly legs, hand reaching for his pistol once again. You and Frank grab him before he can do anything, both of you taking an arm and holding him back.

"Joel, you're exhausted," you tell him quickly, utilizing all your strength, "You just need to lay down. Please."

He turns his face to look at you and something flutters in your chest when you catch the way his eyes soften, the anger in his expression fading as he acknowledges your presence. You can vaguely make out Frank watching the two of you in your periphery, but you try your best to ignore it, instead opting to give Joel a reassuring smile.

"Let's just get you cleaned up, okay?"

You're grateful that Frank leaves you alone with Joel to tend to his nose. You've only met him a handful of times, but each time he'd somehow been able to clock the way you interact with Joel, the way you look at him. The last time you'd been here he'd subtly pulled you aside to give you a few words of wisdom.

"You do realize he's extremely unavailable, right?"

"I- I don't know what you're talking about."

He'd smiled, tapped his nose and given you a knowing look, "And I don't just mean because of Tess. That man is emotionally constipated, kiddo. He's an island." He'd laughed then at your confused expression, shaking his head, "Just be careful, s'all I'm saying."

You'd gone to walk away, forget the conversation even happened, when he'd softly called after you:

"And I'm pretty sure Tess would hang your head on her wall."

You think of those words now as you stand in front of Joel in the small bathroom off the landing, lip between your teeth as you eye the cut on his nose. It isn't broken, thank fuck, but you can see some dirt and gravel in there that you need to clean out.

"It's not broken," you tell him softly. He's sitting on the edge of the bath tub, peering up at you with a much more alert expression. The fall definitely woke him up, not to mention the choice words he and Bill had thrown at each other as you and Frank helped him up the stairs. He's still exhausted though, and he needs to rest.

"I know it's not," he grumbles, "Just wanted to give Bill a piece of my mind for once."

You laugh softly as you reach for the damp cloth beside you, bringing it up to carefully pat it against the gash on the bridge of his nose. You can feel his eyes on you, watching and assessing as you do your best to wipe the area clean.

"I can do that myself," he murmurs.

"I just wanna help," you say quietly, and your eyes fall to his in a knowing glance. He doesn't seem to remember though, just nods and lets you carry on.

It's rare for you to be this alone with him. And by that, you mean this far from Tess. You're painfully aware that it would be impossible for her to walk in at any moment, to see the way you're standing over him, touching him. Frank's words from last time echo in your head but you're not quite sure you believe them; would she really be that angry if she knew how you felt about Joel? It's not like he'd return it, right? The man is twenty years your senior and, as Frank said, extremely unavailable. Not to mention Tess and Joel's relationship has been a point of confusion to you for a year now, still unsure exactly what they are to each other - would she really care?

You reach for the antiseptic - one of the many perks of having an injury in a supply house - and carefully dab some onto the cloth. Your hand trembles a bit as you reach up to carefully hold Joel's chin, your thumb getting lost in his greying beard.

"You haven't shaved in a while," you breathe, your eyes meeting his, and you wonder if you've already crossed a line by even noticing.

He doesn't seem to mind though, sighing deeply, "I haven't slept in a while, so let's hurry this up," he eyes the cloth, "Don't gotta warn me, just do it."

His words bring you back to the present, and you slowly ease the cloth down onto his cut. He hisses a bit, a normal reaction, but it only takes a few seconds to clean and then you're already reaching for a bandage, reluctantly letting go of his chin.

"I was worried about you, before. In the car," you tell him softly, unpeeling the adhesive, "Why haven't you been sleeping?"

His eyes fall to the floor, "I just don't sleep good. Never have."

"Is there anything I can do?"

He shrugs, gives you a humorless laugh, "Handful o' pills and a couple sips o' whiskey usually does the trick."

It makes sense, then, why these past few weeks he's seemed worse. It's been longer than usual since your last supply run and the three of you had started running out of vital supplies over a week ago now, not only for buyers but for yourselves. Joel had written whiskey near the top of the latter list, along with hydromorphone which he'd underlined several times.

"You should've told me you weren't feeling well," you murmur, applying the bandage carefully, "I could've driven the whole way."

"Could've, should've," he dismisses you with a grunt, "Doesn't matter now, does it? We got here, that's what counts."

You linger a little longer than you should on the bandage, thumb falling to gently trace the crease of his nose as you assess your work. It might scar, but it feels pointless to voice this - he already has so many, scattered across his face and neck like confetti. It hurts a little, knowing he's been through so much, seeing the evidence written all over him.

"My mom had this superstition," you tell him softly, a smile playing at your lips as you trace one of the scars under his eye, soft and delicate, "Whenever I got hurt, skinned my knee or busted my elbow playing, she'd bandage me up and then kiss it. She said a kiss would seal her love in there, keep me safe and protected. And if it scarred, that meant it worked."

He blinks at you, expression faltering a bit, "That's...that's a nice thought."

You shake your head, "It's silly, and not true. But... but I still do it anyway, even though she's gone. Just in case," you bite your lip, "I mean, who doesn't wanna feel a little more safe? A little more protected?"

Your gazes lock, and neither of you seem to move, caught in the stillness of the moment and the way your thumb is still stroking his face. You know you have limited time, maybe a few seconds before he breaks it, so without much thought at all you lean down and lightly press your lips to the bandage, eyes closed.

He inhales sharply, a sound that triggers butterflies in your tummy as you hold your mouth against his nose, soft and sweet. It's the closest you've ever been to him, even if you're kissing gauze and not skin - you can still feel the warmth radiating from him, sense the way he freezes below you. A squeaking sound pierces the silence, his hand squeezing the edge of the bath tub tightly. It startles you, your eyes blinking open as you pull back to look at him.

His cheeks are tinged pink, eyelids heavy as he peers up at you with slow blinks.

"You're tired," you breathe, unable to stop your hand from flitting to his hair, pushing a little behind his ear, "Let's get you to bed."

The Joel Miller in Bill and Frank's guest room is not the Joel Miller you thought you knew.

This Joel is loose, pliant. He lets you lead him into the bedroom with a hand on his back, lets you carefully turn him on the spot to reach up and undo the buttons on his flannel. Frank had told you on your way up to make sure Joel didn't get blood on the sheets, so you're only following orders, only doing what you were told.

"Sorry," you murmur softly, fingers shaking every so often as they toy with the buttons, sticky with his blood. Joel doesn't seem to notice though, retreating more and more into the sleepy state he'd been in earlier.

Once his flannel is off you assess his t-shirt and jeans, and you're not sure how to feel about the fact that they didn't get dirty in the fall. On the other hand, though, you're not sure you'd have been brave enough to take them off. Instead you help him toward the bed, pull back the sheets and carefully push him ahead.

"There you go," you whisper, helping him under the covers and pulling the blankets back over him. The sun is streaming through the window, casting the golden light of early evening across the bed, and while it's quite beautiful you shut the curtains anyway, knowing he'll sleep better in darkness. When you turn back around, he's already fallen asleep, lips parted, face peaceful. A different man.

You don't linger, even though you want to.

It's around ten o'clock when you decide to check on him again. You'd watched a movie with Bill and Frank, feeling more than a little unwelcome as Bill tossed you a few dirty looks every so often, though Frank repeatedly told you to ignore him. Now they're in bed downstairs while you pad from your own room across the hall to Joel's, turning the knob carefully. The hinges squeak a little as you open it and you wince.

"Who's there?" you hear Joel grumble from the bed. So much for just taking a peek.

"Me, just me." You push the door wider and walk inside, eyebrows going up when Joel turns on the bedside lamp. He seems a little more rested, although you know he still needs a full night's sleep. "I sent a message to Tess through the radio to let her know we're not coming back tonight - well, Frank did. Picked a song called Tomorrow or something like that."

"Hope it was the Johnny Mathis version," he mumbles, and you watch as he brings his hands up to rub across his face. He accidentally dismantles the bandage and you step forward without really thinking, hurrying to his side and reaching down to fix it.

His hand comes up to grab yours and you freeze in place.

"I can do it," he says, giving you a curt look and then releasing your hand to adjust the gauze himself.

Well, you suppose lax and sleepy Joel couldn't stick around forever. You stand awkwardly by the side of the bed, toying with the edge of the blanket as he rubs his eyes and sits up a little, leaning back against the headboard. He looks so much older in this light; you can see the little flecks of grey in his beard and hair that have been starting to get more noticeable lately, the crows feet, the wrinkles.

He's so handsome.

He turns to look at you with a frown, as if he's only just realizing what you said, "We can go back tonight, I'm fine."

"You're not and you know it. Besides, it's already past ten and now I'm tired, I won't be able to drive."

"I can drive."

"Joel," you surprise yourself by sitting down on the edge of the bed, narrowing your brow as you give him a serious look, "You can't drive. You almost fucking killed us both."

"No I-"

"Yes you did," your tone is firm, suddenly angry - are you angry? - "If I hadn't been talking to you, if I hadn't noticed something was wrong, you would've driven us off the damn road."

He goes quiet at that, frown deepening, the lines on his face more prominent in the low lamplight. You sigh, eyes falling to rest on where your hand is settled on the bed, only inches from his. Part of you wants to reach out and touch, feel the warmth of his skin, the rough of his palm - the other part decides to do something even more stupid.

"You called me baby."

It's out of your mouth before you've even really acknowledged it, and once the words have tumbled out you know there's no taking them back. Your gaze snaps back up to his, slightly surprised to see that he doesn't seem very shocked by your admission.

He clears his throat a little, averting his gaze and shuffling a bit under the covers, "Did I?"

"...Yeah."

You think maybe he'll say something else - anything else - but he doesn't. God, it really is like pulling teeth with him; he's so fucking beautiful but so impossible, never being able to expand on something unless prompted, never being able to answer a single question without jerking you around first. How the fuck has Tess managed to deal with it for so long?

The thought of Tess sends a wave of guilt through your body, Frank's words echoing in your head, but you shove it down.

"What made you... I mean why..." your voice is soft, apprehensive and shy in the quiet of the bedroom, "why'd you call me baby?"

A beat of silence. Then-

"Don't ask me that."

The mood has shifted, your sudden anger ebbing and his annoyance fading into something else, something on the brink of being real. He's avoiding your eyes, peering at the window with the curtains drawn and tapping his fingers anxiously against the mattress, so close to your hand. He's nervous; you're making him nervous.

You stay silent, hoping he'll speak again, hoping maybe just this one time he'll tell you what he's thinking.

"I don't know why."

The words are barely a whisper, almost like he's telling you a secret, and he leaves them hanging in the air briefly before amending - "Well," he sighs and finally looks at you, an emotion you can't place crossing his features, "that's not true. But... I didn't mean - fuck, I was passin' out, for Christ's sake, I didn't realize-"

He cuts himself off again, raising his hand up to press his fingers to the bridge of his nose, briefly forgetting the bandage. He winces when he comes in contact with the gauze, "Can I take this off? It's drivin' me fuckin' crazy."

"Let me do it," you say quietly, inching forward on the bed and reaching for his face. He flinches when you go to touch him, and your hand freezes mid-air.

"Sorry," he mutters, shaking his head like he's shaking off a sensation, a chill, "Go ahead."

With careful - and slightly trembling - fingers, you remove the bandage from his nose. It looks much better than before, no fresh blood in sight, and you suppose it's okay for him to keep it uncovered for the night. Without really thinking about it you gently thumb the side of his nose just shy of the cut, the tips of your other fingers brushing against his cheek.

"It's not too bad," you murmur, and before you know it you're suddenly cupping his jaw, feeling the weight of it in your palm. Your gaze falls to his lips, your thoughts going a mile a minute.

You realize you're close enough that you could kiss him, if you really wanted to. If he really wanted to. All it would take is one small movement, one little push from the both of you, one leap of faith...

And then he whispers your name, almost a warning, and it's like his thoughts are mirroring yours - like he can see exactly what you're picturing, wishing for. Your eyes meet his and you feel a flutter in your stomach when you see the way he's looking at you, a quiet hunger hidden in the deep brown.

You decide to test the waters. You lean in and softly press another kiss to his nose, this time without the gauze in the way. Just like you'd thought, his skin is hot under your lips, soft but scarred, and his smell - god, he smells so masculine and safe, invading your senses as your lips trail downwards to press a small kiss to his cupid's bow, then another to the corner of his mouth. It's sharp, prickly from his scruff, but it doesn't bother you in the slightest - in fact, you kind of like the dull pain, the way it grounds you, keeps you in the moment.

"Baby," he whispers, and a soft little whine falls from your lips without meaning to as your lips move to ghost across his mouth, going for another kiss - a real kiss.

He pulls away before you get there, but then his hand comes up to touch your face, big and wide. He holds you like you're precious, small. His baby.

"S'not right," he whispers, though his thumb strokes your cheek soothingly, "S'not okay for me to want you like that."

You close your eyes at his touch, breathing deeply, "But you do."

"Yeah, I do," you hear him murmur, "You know I do."

"For how long?"

He doesn't respond right away, just continues to stroke your cheek, hold what feels like all of you in his warm palm. You tilt your head a bit to the side, eyes fluttering open to look at him again. You catch the way his lips turn up a little at the movement.

"Too damn long," he sighs, "But that don't... that's not..." he brings his other hand up to cup the other side of your face, holding you still as he peers at you in earnest, brow furrowed, "Point is, we shouldn't... you shouldn't be out here alone with me. Tess knows how I-" he cuts himself off again, and you can see now how difficult it is for him to communicate like this, to be open and honest, "I told her it wasn't a good idea."

"Why?"

He laughs lightly, thumbs circling the apples of your cheeks, "'Cause look where we ended up." He swallows, eyes falling to your lips, "Look where you are right now, baby. Look where my damn hands are for cryin' out loud."

"Keep calling me baby," you breathe, a desperation in your voice that betrays your emotions, tears pricking in your eyes as the weight of this conversation comes crashing down around you. He wants you - he's always wanted you. His words to Tess about not wanting to put you in danger, wanting you to stay away, those soft looks you've shared in his apartment, the small talk, all of it - it's because he wants you.

"We can't do this," he murmurs, leaning in to press his forehead to yours, eyes closing, "I can't do this, you're so- you're too-" he groans, fingers digging into your hair, "You're so young, baby."

"I don't care," you whine, butting your head forward to chase his lips, suddenly yearning to be kissed and held and protected by him, be wrapped in his embrace.

But he pulls away, removing his hands from your face and shuffling back a bit on the bed, away from you. Your hand drops but you reach out pathetically for him anyway, moving closer, attempting to pull the covers back. His hands capture yours and he squeezes them firmly, shaking his head.

"You need to go back to your room," he tells you, and his tone has changed from soft to serious, "It's late and I'm... well, you know I'm fuckin' exhausted. And you've had a long day." He looks at you with pleading eyes, like he's silently begging for you not to put him in this situation, "Let's just call it a night, okay?"

"But-" you start, tears shining in your eyes.

"Please," he breathes, "Please don't make this harder than it needs to be."

You do not want to get up from his bed. But you do.

You do not want to leave his room. But you do.

You do not want to lie awake in your own bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how his hands felt on your face, the way his eyes searched yours, the way his skin felt under your lips.

But you do.

You lie there for hours, thumbs twiddling against your belly, tears trickling down your cheeks every so often. All you can hear in your mind over and over again is the word Baby, punctuated by that soft groan he'd made, the way his thumbs had stroked your cheeks, how large and warm and safe he'd seemed in that bed.

All you want to do is be in that bed with him.

So it's no surprise when, as the sun is beginning to rise and that warm golden light starts to stream through your window, you crawl out from under your blankets and cross the hall one more time.

"We shouldn't" he murmurs when you climb into bed with him, when you tuck yourself into his side and bury your face in his shoulder, but his hands are already in your hair, fingers stroking along the back of your head.

Your bodies mold together like they've always been meant to fit that way, your legs tangled with his, arms trapped under big biceps and hairy forearms, breasts flush with his suddenly bare chest.

"I wanna be your baby," you whisper.

The nose you'd kissed brushes slowly up and down the side of your face, and he doesn't hesitate this time. He reaches up to turn your head, presses his lips against yours and lets you melt into him. Lets you trail your hand downward to unbutton his jeans in the silence of the early morning.

"You already are."

[solemnarration]

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍? | chapter eight

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: art donaldson x female!reader x patrick zweig 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’ve always been content being second place to your best friend tashi duncan, waiting for the day you can quit tennis. your world is upended when you meet art and patrick, and you’re forced to embrace a life in the sport you’ve been too afraid to claim for yourself. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.9k 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): challengers content warnings, swearing, tashi recovering from her injury, mentions of bad relationship with mother, description of emotional breakdown, use of y/n 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: prepare yourselves for some serious angst (sorry in advance) 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋’𝐒 𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋. 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄, 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 – 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝟒, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟗. 𝟔:𝟎𝟎𝐏𝐌.

As you stepped into the stands, the sudden applause and cheers were almost deafening. Your presence electrified the entire area because of how unexpected your appearance was. Nobody thought Y/N Y/L/N would be at the Phil’s Tire Town Challenger, even as an audience member. Fans jumped to their feet, cheering your name and rushing over to meet you in a frenzy of excitement, not believing their luck. Having anticipated this reaction, some of the security from the venue stepped in as you smiled and waved at your fans. Camera flashes lit up the space once you acknowledged them, no doubt sending tweets and texting friends about your surprise arrival.

You had grown accustomed to this reaction whenever you were the player or spectator at tennis games but still found it surreal. Even though you knew this reaction would happen, you couldn’t shake the oddity of being the subject of such intense wonder. It wasn’t that the adoration was unwelcome; it was just hard to reconcile that affection with the image you had of yourself. Seeing fans leap to their feet, shouting your name, you couldn’t help but feel a bit detached, as if observing someone else through their eyes.

In recent years, you hadn’t been in the public eye as much. This was different from your early twenties when you had no problem galavanting through any city with your friends and being pictured going out for meals with other tennis players or celebrities. Lately, you preferred to live out of the limelight and settle into your life. 

People scrambled to get closer, phones raised high to snap pictures or record videos, hoping to capture a piece of the unforgettable moment of meeting you, the number one female tennis player in the world. The energy in the air was almost tangible, a thrilling mix of admiration and exhilaration that swept through the stands like a tidal wave. You willingly posed for pictures with fans and signed anything from tennis balls to phone cases, reminding you of the days you dreamt about meeting your favourite tennis players.

“Excuse me, Miss Y/L/N?” A woman in slacks and a button-up shirt approached you, her eyes wide with starstruck awe. “I’m a reporter for The New Rochelle Press and was wondering if I might ask you a few questions?” You nodded. “What brings you to the Phil’s Tire Town Challenger?”

You smiled, your amusement evident in the crinkle of your eyes and the slight tilt of your lips. “What sort of readers does The New Rochelle Press target?” you wondered. “If I swear, will you have to censor it?” When the reporter shook her head, you declared, “An old friend once said that all we want is to watch some good fucking tennis. That’s what I’m expecting today.”

The woman’s pen travelled swiftly across her small notepad, pleased with your answer. “Do you have any predictions about the match, considering you were romantically linked with Zweig and went to Stanford with Donaldson?”

You almost laughed at her wording. Romantically linked sounded like journalistic lingo for “Everyone in the world speculated that you and Patrick dated but we have no real evidence.” 

That couldn’t be further from the truth.

When you and Patrick first started dating, you were in your early twenties and didn’t care about what people said about you. Even as up-and-coming professional tennis players, the two of you would go on dates and get photographed kissing and hugging in public without a care in the world. You were dating so publicly that the first time you won a major grand slam, you kissed him in front of all the cameras recording this historic moment in your career.

You and Patrick weren’t just romantically linked; you were the tennis world’s favourite couple at the time.

“I think both players are going to surprise us today. I never know what to expect from them,” you said honestly. “It’s been many years since they were matched up and I look forward to seeing their performances.”

“And how are you feeling in the weeks leading up to the US Open? Certain that you’ll be securing your twentieth grand slam title?”

Your gaze lingered on the journalist for a moment, a silent acknowledgement of her astute question, before you responded with a thoughtful and measured answer, “I’m confident in my preparation and am looking forward to the challenge. I’m competing to win, and I believe I have what it takes to do so.”

“Thank you so much for your time, and good luck,” the reporter said when she was done copying down your answer. “Off the record, I’m totally rooting for you,” she added before excusing herself. 

After taking a few more pictures, you eventually reached your seat beside Tashi. Your former best friend nodded in greeting, leaving her sunglasses on as she observed Art as he entered the court.

A wistful smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she remarked, “This feels like déjà vu.” Her eyes flickered with a mix of nostalgia and curiosity, as if she were unravelling a familiar puzzle. 

“How so?” you questioned.

Tashi looked at her husband as he and Patrick entered the court. Art and Patrick had their eyes locked onto you with unwavering focus. Their expressions were a mix of resolve and intensity, each step bringing them closer with a shared purpose. The air seemed to crackle with anticipation as Art and Patrick approached, their determination clear in every movement. You looked between them, feeling the weight of their combined attention, and braced yourself for what was to come.

“It’s like they’re playing for your number all over again,” Tasha declared. If you had been looking at her, you would have seen the pleased smirk on her face. 

You were right, everyone in the audience was about to watch some good fucking tennis.

𝐓𝐀𝐔𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐄, 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 – 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟖, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟕. 𝟕:𝟑𝟔𝐏𝐌.

The last six months had been the most daunting of your life. 

After her surgery, it took Tashi about two weeks before she was able to start gentle physical therapy to regain her range of motion. Tashi being Tashi wanted to go all out, but you and the rest of her medical team ensured she didn’t push herself too hard. Once she was enough to start strengthening her knee, it was harder than ever to help her stay on track. Tashi would get frustrated that she wasn’t progressing as quickly as she wanted, which meant pushing herself too far and nearly injuring herself all over again.

Three months after surgery, she was allowed to start jogging. The first time the two of you went for a light jog around campus in June during finals week ended in relieved tears from both of you, and you remembered feeling more proud of your best friend than ever before.

Six months after surgery, Tashi’s medical team cleared her to return to tennis practice. With a knee brace, she could practise non-contact drills and test whether her knee could handle the demands of tennis or not.

A week into your second year at Stanford, Tashi was determined to improve enough to join the tennis team for off-season training and games. 

Last year, the women’s team won the championships without her, and being front-and-centre – like Tashi usually was – was new for you. You had dominated the court like never before. Your serves were sharper, finding the corners with a precision that left your opponents scrambling. Your groundstrokes gained power and accuracy, and your improved footwork and agility allowed you to return every ball your opponents sent. It was like playing with a wall; you always returned the ball no matter what. This effortless, flawless style had caught the attention of spectators, who marvelled at your playing style and acknowledged you as a force to be reckoned with.

Now more than ever, everyone wanted you to go pro. 

On the first day of the fall quarter, your coaches called you into their office. When you took a seat, they handed you a thick stack of papers, declaring that it was your exclusive endorsement contract offer from Nike. You still remembered how your heart raced as you held the contract in your hands, a testament to your hard work and dedication over the last nineteen years. Flashes of excitement mingled with apprehension as you considered the implications of such a significant opportunity. Thoughts of endorsement deals and global exposure danced through your mind, but so did the pressures and responsibilities that came with them.

Something in the back of your mind protested, Danger, danger! You never wanted to go pro! 

Ever since you were a little girl, you remembered thinking you could do anything but this, anything but pursue the dream your mother forced on you. You remembered the literal blood, sweat, and tears that came with training and how you felt so alone before you met Tashi. You always believed the life of a professional tennis player was miserable and not worth the painstaking effort it took to be successful.

But that felt like a lifetime ago, especially after what happened to Tashi. Her injury had been a wake-up call, reminding you how lucky you were to pursue a sport you were naturally gifted in and had worked extremely hard to dominate. After all, you would be lucky to have Nike’s endorsement and full financial support for your budding career. You wondered if you would regret turning down Nike, regret a life that you clearly deserved and were starting to enjoy.

Even without Tashi by your side, you loved playing tennis at Stanford last season. You had never imagined that you could actually enjoy tennis. But your coaches cared about and believed in you, something you never received from your team in high school. Playing tennis at Stanford wasn’t a miserable life but one of fulfilment and community.

It made you cautiously optimistic about going pro.

You told Art the news the second you returned from your meeting. His reaction made you excited for the opportunity. He had yelled, swept you off your feet, and spun you around in a whirlwind of joy and celebration. His eyes sparkled with pride and admiration as he lifted you, your laughter echoing through your new dorm. You couldn’t contain your happiness, honoured to have been offered the contract and proud of yourself for working so hard. Wrapping your arms around his neck as he spun you, you felt weightless for the first time in months.

When you finally came to a gentle stop, Art held you close and reminded you how much you deserved it. His voice was filled with genuine awe. 

Four days later, you were at the tennis centre with Art and Tashi, helping her practice as she wore her knee brace.

You noticed the subtle changes in your best friend’s demeanour as you practised on the court together. Her usually fluid movements were hesitant, and her usually powerful volleys lacked their usual speed and precision. There was a quiet determination tinged with frustration in her eyes as she struggled to regain her form. Despite Tashi’s efforts to stay focused, you sensed her growing frustration each time you and Art sent the ball her way.

Tashi returned each ball and called, “Stop going easy on me.”

You and Art shared a nervous look on the other side of the net. You felt a knot tighten in your stomach. When Tashi had frustrated outbursts, you were usually on the receiving end of her harsh words.

“We’re not,” Art said, glancing back at Tashi.

“We’re just warming up,” you added, giving your best friend a reassuring smile.

She rolled her eyes, and you tried not to take it personally. You knew by Tashi’s clenched jaw and furrowed brows that every shot weighed heavily on her. She had been playing tennis all her life; she knew what it felt like when she was doing it right. Ever since her injury, everything felt off. Her body wasn’t cooperating the way it used to. Any words of encouragement and support you offered were overshadowed by her constant setbacks.

Tashi wanted to return to her peak performance, but you all knew it would be a long road ahead.

Everyone walked behind the baseline and Art served the ball to Tashi. He and Tashi returned it once each before Tashi lobbed it over the fence in frustration, urging, “Hit the ball!”

“Tashi–”

“–Actually fucking hit the ball,” Tashi interrupted, approaching the net and pointing at Art with her racket. 

Art smiled, trying to placate her. “Come on.”

You tried to calm her down. “Don’t yell at him, Tashi. We’re just starting slow so that–”

“–So that what, Y/I?” Tashi demanded. “You’re not my fucking doctor or my fucking physical therapist, I don’t need you constantly reminding me of my limitations, okay?” She pointed at her knee brace. “Trust me, I already have enough reminders.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as you paused, fighting back tears stinging your eyes. Despite your best efforts, the unintended harshness from Tashi struck a deep chord, leaving you overwhelmed. It had been six long months of your best friend lashing out when she was frustrated and angry, and while you understood where she was coming from, it didn’t hurt any less. 

The fact that your tennis career was flourishing as Tashi struggled was painful for you too, not just Tashi.

“She’s trying to help,” Art defended you. “She’s your best friend, Tashi, she’s not reminding you of your limitations.”

Tashi threw her hands up. “You afraid you’re gonna hurt me?” she asked, looking between you and Art. When the both of you said nothing, she nodded and said, “Pussies.” When she turned around to leave, you inhaled sharply and shut your eyes.

Art noticed your distress immediately, his expression softening with concern as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close in a reassuring embrace.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said kindly. You leaned into him, finding comfort in his familiar embrace. The last six months had been crazy, and there was no way you would have gotten through them without him. “Maybe we’re being a little too controlling?”

You shook your head. “This is our plan. Tennis is everything to her, we’ve talked about what I should do if she ever gets injured and how I should handle it for years now. I’m just following the plan we made.” 

“I don’t know if it’s working, angel,” Art said softly. “This is… it’s killing her.” 

“I know it’s killing her, Art. I go back to my room after every session and cry my eyes out because I know that it’s not working out the way any of us want it to,” you pointed out, pulling away. “I know how bad this is. But I owe it to her to try my hardest to help her recover. Because if she’s going to be forced give up the thing she loves more than anything, I want to be sure it’s her only choice.”

Art’s heart sank as he watched tears well up in your eyes. Every shaky exhale that escaped your lips was like a dagger to his chest, twisting deeper with his inability to comfort you.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Art acknowledged. He wanted nothing more than to take away your and Tashi’s pain, but all he could do was hold you tightly, wishing he could make everything right. 

“I have to go, I have a paper due tomorrow that I’ve been putting off,” you recalled, checking the time on Art’s watch. “Keep practising with her. Please. Tell her to come to my dorm when you’re done so we can stretch together.”

“Whatever you want,” Art promised, kissing the side of your head and taking the tennis ball you passed him. 

As Art and Tashi kept playing together, you grabbed your tennis bag and retreated to your room. 

In your second year, you and Tashi were no longer in the same residence hall, but you were less than a ten-minute walk apart, so you still got to spend time together. You opted for a double room and had a roommate this time. The two of you were getting along really well and even had a few classes together. Your halves of the room were separated by a door, providing plenty of privacy.

When you returned, your roommate was still out. You took a shower and changed before opening your laptop to get started on your paper.

Less than an hour later, Tashi let herself into your room with an expression you had never seen before. 

“T? What happened?” you asked, getting up to unroll your yoga mats so you could stretch together.

“Don’t,” Tashi said, motioning to the mats and shaking her head. She paced back and forth, clenching her fists tightly, trying to rein in her anger before it consumed her. “I can’t do that shit right now.”

You paused, agreeing, “Okay.” Watching cautiously, you tried not to say anything that might exacerbate the situation. “What’s wrong? Did you get hurt? I can get some ice from–”

“I’m never going to play tennis again,” Tashi declared. You knew she would never say the words aloud unless she was sure they were true. “Not well enough to play professionally anyway. Patrick was right, I wasted my time playing Sally Fucking Country Club from Pepperdine instead of going pro. It’s too late now, my knee’s fucked and it’s never going to heal enough for me to be as good as I used to be.” As you absorbed the crushing news, a wave of emotions washed over Tashi’s face. Initially, disbelief and denial flickered in her eyes, followed by a deep-seated acceptance that settled like a heavy weight on her shoulders. “I’m done, it’s all over.”

Tears welled in her eyes as Tashi grappled with letting go of her lifelong dream. You approached her, gently taking her hand. 

“I’m so sorry… You’ll figure this out, I promise. You can find a new dream,” you assured Tashi as you teared up. Despite your overwhelming sadness, you fought to suppress your emotions for Tashi’s sake. As you hugged her, you struggled to keep your composure, grief threatening to spill over. There was nothing you could say that would help her. Taking deep breaths, you rubbed Tashi’s back and felt her shoulders shake with oncoming sobs. “I’ll help you. We’ll find a new dream together. I’ve got you, T.”

Scoffing, Tashi pulled away and rolled up the sleeves of her hoodie. Her eyes were getting red, and her hair was falling from its updo. You had never seen Tashi so frazzled. Without her hoodie covering her forearms, the friendship bracelets you made her over the last few months were visible. The most recent one said 6 MONTHS RECOVERED with little hearts. Overwhelmed by her realisation that day, Tashi wrenched the bracelets from her wrist and threw them on the ground as you watched.

“I’m so over this shit,” Tashi declared, snapping the elastic of one of the bracelets and sending the beads tumbling across the hardwood floor of your dorm. “These bracelets you make because you think they keep us close are so childish, I can’t do this anymore! You’ll help me find a new dream? Fuck you!” Your heart sank as your best friend’s venomous words cut through the air, each hitting you like a physical blow. “All this bullshit about dreams–all you ever talk about is avoiding your mother’s dreams and here you are, playing tennis and loving it. I have real problems to worry about, and you clearly don’t!”

You stood frozen, your eyes wide with hurt and disbelief, unable to comprehend the sudden hostility. The sting of betrayal washed over you, leaving your chest tight and your throat dry. You blinked back tears, trying to maintain your composure in the face of Tashi’s unexpected and painful anger. 

You swallowed. “I have real problems too, T,” you defended yourself, your voice coming out softer than you intended. Things had been worse than ever between your parents, and your grades had suffered with how much time you dedicated to helping Tashi. Perhaps these issues didn’t seem as big as hers, but they were real. “I’ve been putting my own problems aside for half a year so I can be there for you. Just because you never see me struggle doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.” You stared at Tashi as she fumed silently. “You’re my best friend, you’ve been my priority. But I do have problems.”

“What problems?” Tashi challenged you. “A Nike contract? Do you seriously think that’s a problem and not a fucking miracle?”

You shut your eyes tightly, a deep dread washing over you like a cold wave. “Who told you?” you asked, opening your eyes and meeting Tashi’s infuriated gaze.

“Art,” she explained. Tashi practically spat his name, like she couldn’t believe your boyfriend had shared the news with her. “Of course, he didn’t realise he was telling me because he thought I already knew. I just stood there like an idiot listening to him go on and on about what an amazing opportunity this is for you and how you earned it. God, I feel like I’m in an alternate dimension!”

Your shoulders stiffened, and you crossed your arms tightly across your chest, feeling an instinctive need to protect yourself. “I did earn it, Tashi. I’ve never played better and Nike has been paying attention to me for over two years,” you pointed out. Tashi’s eyes narrowed as you spoke, every nerve on high alert, ready to defend against any attack. “Just forget about it, it doesn’t even matter. I’m probably not going to take the deal anyway since I’m still on the fence about going pro.”

Tashi’s face was hot with frustration. She clenched her fists tightly, her anger simmering beneath the surface, ready to erupt. “Of course, you should go pro. With me out of the way, it’s the perfect time,” Tashi declared.

“Now wait a second–”

“–I mean, I know being my lackey has been pretty fulfilling for you for the past five years but you’re going to have to start living your own life eventually,” she added.

You took a deep breath. “I know you’re upset right now so I think we should stop before you say something you’ll regret,” you suggested calmly. “It’s been a hard six months, we don’t need to do this right now.”

“You think this is the first time I’ve had these thoughts?” Tashi argued, raising an eyebrow. “Wake up, Y/N! You’re the new me, you completely replaced me and took over my life!”

“No, I haven’t,” you vehemently denied. “The only thing that’s changed about my life is that I actually enjoy playing tennis now! I still have the same plans for the future, I’m probably going to–”

“–What the fuck are you going to do with your life if you don’t go pro, Y/N?” Tashi exclaimed loudly. “Marry Art and not become a tennis player just in case you turn out like your mom? I hate to break it to you, but it’s more likely than you think, given your inability to think for yourself.” Tashi’s words cut through you like shards of glass, each one leaving a stinging wound in its wake. You felt as if your heart was being twisted and contorted, the pain spreading with every cruel syllable. “All you’re going to do is play housewife, have some kids who you’ll hate, and then force them to play tennis so they can have the career you never did. Sound familiar?”

The sting of her remarks lingered, embedding themselves deep within you. 

Tears streamed down your face as you struggled to speak, your voice trembling with every word. “Do you really mean that or are you just saying that because you know it’ll hurt me?” you choked out, the pain in your chest growing with each repressed sob. Your heart felt like it was breaking, shattered by the friend you had trusted more than anyone.

Tashi retorted, “Does it matter?” 

“Of course it matters, Tashi!” you shouted. “You’re going through what I can only imagine is the hardest thing you’ll ever have to go through, and I can forgive you if you’re lashing out because you’re frustrated and scared. God knows I’ve forgiven you for hurting me these last few months.” Tashi’s eyes bore into yours with an unyielding intensity, unwavering and resolute. The sheer determination in her gaze was almost palpable, daring you to challenge her resolve. “But if you really mean that, if you truly believe those words after everything we’ve been through together, then I don’t know what that means for our friendship,” you explained. 

Tashi’s relentless stare conveyed a silent but powerful message: she would not back down, no matter what. “I mean it. You’re going to be fucking miserable, and you’re going to hate your life just as much as your mother hates the fact that she had you,” she declared. “Sometimes, I hate you too.” Her words were like barbed arrows, piercing deep with every sentence. “I'm done. I feel like I don’t even recognise you, and I don’t want any part of your new life.”

You nodded, resigned to the fact that Tashi had harboured these thoughts about you for the last few months. Every time you skipped out on an opportunity to meet with friends or visit your dad in favour of staying on campus to help Tashi felt like a waste. You had done those things for your best friend and sacrificed your own mental health and happiness because you thought Tashi was worth it.

Now, all you could do was wonder if she would have done the same for you. 

For the last five years, you were under the impression that you had forged a genuine friendship based on mutual trust and respect. Sure, tennis was one of the many bonds that tied the two of you together, but it wasn’t the only one. You thought that nothing would change if you stopped playing tennis. Tashi would go on to be the champion she was born to be, and you would pursue a life outside of the sport.

Now, you knew your friendship only worked when she was the one with a future in tennis. She had to be the winner; she had to be the one making all the decisions. Tashi was happy for you to quit as long as it meant she had her career ahead of her, but it didn’t work for her when it was the other way around.

“What happened in the last six months?” you wondered, feeling helpless. It felt like the ground was crumbling beneath you, the world tilting off its axis. “What happened to being soulmates, and invisible strings, and living the rest of our lives together? Do you really mean to tell me that you’re done with it all? With me?”

“I’m beyond done,” Tashi insisted. “You know, I came to Stanford with you because I knew you’d realise how much you want to go pro. If I had known this is how things would turn out, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

Maybe you should have seen it coming. The signs had been there all along. Your once effortless conversations had become strained, silences growing longer and more uncomfortable. The laughter you used to share felt distant, replaced by curt exchanges and forced smiles during physical therapy. Deep down, you noticed the cracks forming, but you never believed they could actually shatter your bond. Even in your wildest fears, you couldn’t fathom a life without Tashi.

Now, faced with the harsh reality, you felt an overwhelming regret and sorrow for not recognising how fragile your friendship had become.

“Then I guess I don’t know you as well as I thought,” you said sadly, sniffling as you stifled your cries. The last thing you wanted was to give Tashi the satisfaction of seeing you fall apart.

Your best friend didn’t even look sorry. “I guess not.” Tashi made her way to the door, reaching for the handle before you called her name.

“If this really is the end of our friendship then I should tell you something,” you admitted, swallowing as you calmed your racing heart. “We always said we don’t have any secrets, but I do. If we’re really done, then you should know the truth.”

“What truth is that?” Tashi replied, sounding disinterested. 

As you stood nervously before your friend, you felt the weight of your secret pressing on your chest. You thought you would take this one to the grave, especially considering you had never considered pursuing a professional tennis career. But now, more than ever, you wanted to hurt Tashi how she had hurt you. You knew you would never be able to say the same cruel things she said to you, but this secret was the closest you could get.

After all, what hurts more than the truth?

“For the last five years, I’ve been letting you win.”

You never got to see or hear her reaction. She paused, her shoulders tensing for a moment, before leaving your room and slamming the door shut behind her.

When Tashi left, you felt an indescribable pain as you thought of all the things she had said to you. Tears streamed down your face as you grabbed a framed photo from your desk and hurled it across the room, the glass shattering against the wall. Sobs wracked your body. You felt restless and anguished, and you didn’t know what to do with yourself. 

Your room, newly decorated as you had only been living in it for a week, felt like a shrine to Tashi all of a sudden. 

Every corner of your room seemed to hold a piece of her, haunting you with memories. The wall was lined with photos of you together, your smiling faces now a cruel reminder of what was lost. Beyoncé concert tickets were pinned to a corkboard, reminding you of an endless night of laughter and singing that neither of you would ever forget. Your bookshelf held novels you had swapped, each one inscribed with heartfelt messages that now stung with bitter irony.

On your dresser, bottles of skincare products you had picked out together stood like silent witnesses to your shared routines. Friendship bracelets, more than you could possibly count, were on display in a mason jar sitting beside some lilies Art bought you yesterday. Even your laptop and stationary were painful reminders of the bond that had once seemed unbreakable, reminding you of the back-to-school shopping you and Tashi had splurged on before starting at Stanford.

Your room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a prison filled with echoes of laughter that had turned into cries for help.

Collapsed onto your bed, you clutched your pillow tightly as if it could absorb the heartache. The betrayal cut deep, leaving you feeling raw and exposed, as if your chest had been torn open. The loss of your best friend felt like losing a part of yourself, a wound that no amount of tears or rage could heal. Reaching for your phone, you dialled Art’s number and held the receiver to your ear.

“I need you,” you said in a hoarse voice.

It took him less than two minutes for him to arrive. He sprinted from his dorm, nearly knocking over students on his path from his residence hall to yours, and dropped everything to check on you. Even though you always comforted each other, you had never called him like that. Usually, you complained about whatever was bothering you before asking if he had the time to come over. This was different. 

The front door of your dorm opened into your roommate’s half of the room. You had to enter her room to get to the door that led to yours. In a rush, Art knocked twice before letting himself in. Your roommate, who got back a few minutes ago and overheard you crying in your room, met Art’s gaze with wide, concerned eyes. 

“Come in, come in,” she ushered him in. “Go check on her.”

“Thank you,” Art said hurriedly before opening the door to your room and shutting it behind him. “Angel…” He found you amid your heartache, tears streaming down your cheeks as you clung to the pillow. Art rushed to your side, pulling you into his arms. 

“T-Tashi,” you sobbed, burying your face in his hoodie-clad chest when he kicked off his shoes and got into bed with you. His hands gently stroked your hair as you cried. “She said I’m just like my mom, and that she hates me and– and–”

“Hey, it’s okay, take a deep breath,” Art advised you, trying to stay calm as he watched you panic. 

No matter how many comforting words he whispered, telling you it was okay to cry, that he was there for you, you didn’t calm down. Art didn’t know what to do. You were his true north, the unwavering point on his compass that guided him through everything life sent his way. His hoodie grew damp from your tears, but he didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, he tightened his embrace and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Art vowed to be your guiding star, leading you forward no matter how lost you felt.

From: ynln@stanford.edu To: pzweig88@gmail.com Date: October 20, 2007 Subject: Attempt #12 at getting a sign of life

Dear Patrick,

Attempt number twelve! I miss you. Please write back to me. 

I know you’re reading my emails. You can just hit that little arrow that says reply and tell me you’re alive so I can stop worrying. You may be asking yourself how I know you’re reading the emails, and the answer is that I know you, Pat.

Please tell me you’re okay. Or tell me that everything sucks if that’s more accurate.

Today is my and Art’s one-year anniversary, and I feel awful. He’s been so good to me since everything happened with Tashi, and I just know he wants to do something adventurous and romantic to celebrate, because he’s Art, and he’s amazing. But it hurts to get out of bed these days. I don’t feel like celebrating and I definitely don’t feel like being happy.

Is that crazy? I almost want to live in this sadness just a little while longer. It makes me feel close to her somehow. If I can still feel hurt, then I’m still connected to the last time I saw her.

No matter how much she hurt me, she was my best friend for so long. Her absence left a void I don’t know how to fill. Even my happiest memories of her hurt to think about. Everything is tinged with sadness. 

Sometimes, I find myself reaching for the phone to text her, only to remember that she hates me and never wants to see me again.

I hate that I smashed that framed photo of us. It was from the day we met, and we looked so happy. What did those little girls do to deserve my anger? 

Everything hurts, Pat. I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t keep holding on to Art for dear life because I don’t want to hurt him. Tell me what to do. Tell me, and I’ll listen. Tell me that you’re okay. Just say something. Anything. Please.

I really miss you. Please write back.

Love, Y/N

From: pzweig88@gmail.com To: ynln@stanford.edu Date: October 21, 2007 Subject: RE: Attempt #12 at getting a sign of life

Y/N,

I miss you too. Happy anniversary.

Patrick

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: how are we doing?? did you see the reader’s big secret coming? i alluded to it in chapter one in the vaguest way ever: “This was one of your favourite moments in tennis: the calm before the storm, the moment of anticipation when nobody knew how the match would play out. Not you, though. You always knew.”

[ovrour]

❝tell your baby, that i’m your baby❞ - MATTHEW STURNIOLO

“you put in effort into everything we did together with her, and thats all i ever asked. all i wanted was for you to try.”

pair: Matthew Sturniolo x Ex!reader, Matthew Sturniolo x Readers ex bestfriend

genre; angst

cw; panic attacks. (fake instagram posts)

It wasn’t fair.

None of it was.

The way he treated her.

How he talked about her.

How he tried with her.

With you, it just seemed like he couldn’t do that. Like, he didn’t want to, or atleast thats what it felt like. It was a different with you. You felt like it was hard for him to love you.

regardless, you loved him in a way you knew no one else could. You were there for him, even when he wasn’t there for you. and that showed alot.

Even your bestfriend Nick thought you loved him more than he ever did you, and that says something. It says alot.

Recently though, Matt got a new girlfriend. It wasn’t just any girl. absolutely not, it was your ex bestfriend. Sure, you hadn’t been friends for years, and hadn’t held any grudges against eachother. but, seeing her with him made your heart ache. of course, she didn’t know Matt was your ex. but, he knew about her. Even after you had told him about the way she treated you, he still had the nerve to go and chase after her.It was hard seeing them together. the two people you had trusted so long ago. they were slowly becoming the two people you despised the most. Your Ex bestfriend, Flo. the girl you had told everything to years ago, and Matt who was your everything, your bestfriend. now, he was just some ex boyfriend to you. but, he wasnt.

he was the love of your life, the one you wanted to spend eternity with. now, you were never going to get that. you wished you would’ve bettered yourself, so he could’ve loved you easier.

So Matt could’ve gave you the love you deserved.

when you were with him, the world made sense.

now that you were alone, its like the world all of a sudden didn’t exist.

Here you are now, at the triplets house. Of course, Matt wasn’t home, thats the only time you were ever around. after the break up, you couldn’t handle being around him because if you were, you’d probably be in pieces.

“Y/n? did you see Flo’s new post?” Nick asked you, turning to look at you. you couldn’t hear him. you were to busy reading all your old messages with Matt.

“y/n?” Chris questioned. “hm?” you hummed, not looking up from your phone. “Nick was talking to you.”

“Sorry what?”

“Nick was talking to you.”

“Oh, i didn’t hear you. im sorry, what did you say?” You asked, now turning towards him. “Did you see Flo’s new post on instagram?” Nick asked again. “No why? should i look at it?” You questioned.

You thought maybe you should but for your sake to not. Either way you did, and your heart tore apart.

well, that was one way to hard launch.

“Oh.” you murmured. “He took her to Disney. For her birthday.”

“That’s where i asked him to take me for my birthday.” You cried.

He took her to every place he had promised you. The first girl that loved him like he deserved. instead, he chose someone who just wanted it for the money. you knew how flo was when it came to guys with money. She’d use them, and then leave them. Getting spoiled in the end is always what she wants. and she gets it, always. It was unfair, for someone else to get the love that you wanted, from the one you genuinely loved. maybe, its just not what you deserve.

“We know y/n. We know.” Nick whispered, rubbing your back. “How about we go out to eat?” Chris spoke. “Would you like that?” He stood. “Yeah, i would.” You replied, smiling. “alright well, i’ll get us an uber okay?” Chris reassured. “How about you go get dressed? Nick will help you.” Chris Said. you and nick nodded, heading up to his room.

“Alright, how about this?” Nick asked, laying your outfit out on his bed. “Yeah, this is cute.” you smiled, grabbing the clothes and shoes on the bed. “Alright, i’ll be in the living room with chris waiting!” Nick shouted before closing the door behind him.

you were thankful to have Chris, and Nick by your side. it felt like they were the only ones really there for you. sure, you had alot of friends. but, they were there for you the most. if anyone ever asked you who you’d run to for anything, it’d be them two, always.

“alright, im ready.” You spoke, walking to the couch so you slip your shoes on. “okay, well the uber’s gonna be here any minute.” Chris spoke. “well, im down for mcdonalds, what about you guys?” you asked, turning your head to look at them.

“im down”

“me too.”

the whole night, you guys spent time together. not leaving a single one of you out. you guys watched movies, ate ice cream, mcdonalds, took pictures, and posted them on instagram.

this is what true happiness felt like, you just wished you were asleep for when matt got home, of course he had to bring her back.

you all turned your head towards the door, hearing keys jingle. All you could hear was giggle after giggle like it was a fuckin clown show.

you, chris, and nick just stared like you had seen pennywise at your door or some shit. “y/n?” you heard matt, and flo say at the same time. “wait, h-how do you know y/n?” Flo turned to matt. “uh, we used-“ you cutt him off. “it doesn’t even matter. im going to sleep.” you stood. “Nick, i’m gonna be in your room.” He turned to you and nodded. Chris stood, walking towards the couple. “Matt, i need to talk to you.” Chris spoke, Matt excused himself. “Chris-“ “what the hell were you thinkin matt?”

“what?”

“seriously? you bring your ex’s old best friend to the house? let me remind you that you’re dating her too.”

“I dont see a problem with it.”

“of course you dont matt, you’re too goddamn blind to see anything wrong with everything.” Nick budged in.

“look, if you’re gonna have her here, we dont want to see her around y/n. do you understand me?” Chris whispered.

“yeah, yeah i get it Chris.” Matt spoke, turning to look at his girlfriend.

“God, hes such an idiot.” Nick commented. “yeah, i agree. especially for bring her here, i mean is he fucking stupid.” Chris interrupted. “yes, yes he is. but, im gonna go check on y/n.” Nick walked towards the stairs.

“alright, just text me and tell me how she’s doing.”

by the time Nick had went to go check up on you, you were already asleep, eyes puffy from all the crying you had been doing a few minutes prior. Nick knew this was going to be hard for you while both of them were around for the time being, so he along with chris were going to try everything possible to keep you away from them.

You woke up to a knock at the bedroom door. “come in!” you groaned. It was Chris. “Y/n come on, we’re going to the Fair.” He spoke, helping you get up. “what time is it?” you murmured, still getting adjusted to the light shining through the window. “It’s 2 in the afternoon. Im gonna go get you some water.” He spoke, running towards the kitchen. You walked towards your vanity and sat there just staring at yourself. Your eyes were puffy from the night before, dark circles under your eyes, even still had your clothes on from last night. you asked yourself why you cared so much about why he brought her here. maybe jt was the way he treated her, talked about her. who cares, all you wanted was to block them out. maybe ignoring them was your best and only option here.

“Here’s your water sweet girl.” Chris handed you the water. you thanked him and took a sip. It wasn’t weird for him to call you by nicknames like that, it was just kind of what you two got used too. You and Chris were close friends, known eachother since middle school when you shared science class together, along with nick. since then, you guys have always been the trio in the friend group. “thank you, Chris.” you spoke up. “for what sweet girl?” He asked looking at you. “For being such a good friend even in my worst moments.” you said, eyes filling with tears. “Oh. Of course y/n, thats what im here for. I care about you and i love you. i just want you to be okay because i know you’ve had a rough couple of months.” He responded, embracing you in a hug. “How about i pick out your outfit, and help you with your hair?” He suggested, looking at you through the mirror. “yeah, i would like that.” you replied, turning around to smile at him.

you had butterflies in your stomach. you didn’t know why, maybe it was the way he talked to you, or maybe the way he wanted to help you. maybe just maybe, jt was the way he looked at you. He had those beautiful ocean eyes. ones that you could stare at for hours on end.

He helped you curl your hair loosely, and if you had to be honest he did an amazing job. your hair looked great, your makeup looked great. you looked great. this was the first time in months that you had felt good about yourself. you didn’t what it was but, it felt good. You felt confident in yourself, like you were the only one who could make you feel like you. you walked to your closet going to pick out an outfit. “Chris, is it hot outside?” you asked, looking through your closet. “uh no, not really, its windy though!” He shouted back. you picked out a couple pieces from your closet and layed them out to create a outfit.

you chose a camo long sleeve, black biker shorts, and a pair of burkenstocks. “okay, im ready.” you sighed, walking out the closet to show Chris. He sat there smiling, admiring your beauty. he’d never someone so gorgeous. You looked amazing in anything, all the time, no matter what the occasion was. whether it was just sitting down in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt , or a dress. it didn’t matter. you look perfect all the time. “you look great.” He stood. “C’mon, everyone is ready in the car.”

“who’s coming with?”

“Nick,Matt, and flo.”

“Chris, no. Im not going if they’re gonna be there.”

You were upset that he didnt tell you before hand that Matt and Flo were going to be there. otherwise, you would’ve never decided to go. Chris knew that. He just wanted you to enjoy being out, and feel the fresh air. Maybe, it was a bad idea to say yes. but, you really wanted to go. but, if they were going to be there, and flirt the whole time infront of your face, there was no absolute point in going.

“Y/n-“

“no Christopher, you know i dont want to be around them, and they’re going. i would rather just stay home.”

“Look at me y/n.”

“You’re not going to be around them the whole time i promise. if anything, Nick and i are going to be there. so, you’re going to be with us most of the time anyway.”

“Fine Chris.”

“Thank you.”

He looked at you for a minute before clearing his throat. “you alright?” “yeah, i’ll be fine.” you responded now looking at your shoes. “cmon they’re waiting for us.” He replied, holding your hand. It caught you off guard but, you didn’t complain. his hand was soft, and it felt comforting. It was like, they were meant to hold. It felt good to know that atleast someone loved you back.

“There she is!” Nick gasped. Both Flo and Matt turning they’re heads in the moment. “Hi” you smiled, chris helping you get in the backseat before sitting next to you, closing the door. You looked through the rearview mirror and just smiled at Flo and Matt. The whole ride to the fair was filled with laughter and enjoyment but also, some pretty nasty stares from Flo. Which you ignored, trying to enjoy your day.

“Alright, we’re here.” Matt turned off the car, getting out. Flo was a few steps behind him. “okay, just give us a minute.” Chris responded. Nick was the one to interrupt. “Okay, before we continue , we just wanted you to know that we are going to be recording today but, we know how you feel about being on camera. So, Tara and Carrington are here to hangout with you while we record.” You sighed. you really only came to hangout with Chris and Nick but, you understood that they made videos for a living so, Tara and Carrington will keep you company. They were your friends too so, at the end of the day it would always be fun to have them around. “Okay, thats fine.” you sighed. “afterwards we can go and get funnel cake?” Chris questioned. “Yes!” you squealed in excitement. “now cmon, we cant keep them waiting.” Nick spoke, hopping out the car. you and chris did the same.

When you made it to the entrance you spotted Tara and Carrington. You ran up giving Tara a hug. “Hiiii, oh my gosh i missed you.” Tara laughed. you pulled apart, “I missed you too. Its so good to see you!” You smiled. You turned to Carrington and hugged him. “Hi to you too Car.” You smiled, pulling apart from him. “I missed you. Haven’t seen you in awhile Bear.” He smiled back. “I know. i’ve been through alot, but im pulling through.” You responded, now all of you walking towards the triplets.

“Hi guys” You spoke, now standing infront of everyone. “Oh my gosh, is that Tara yummy and Carrington?” Flo squealed. “Hi” Tara responded, Carrington doing the same. “Im such a big fannn!” Flo blurted out going in to hug Tara, then shaking carringtons hand. You all just stood there smiling awkwardly. “So Matt, how are you and y/n?” Carrington asked. There was awkward silence. Flo didn’t know anything, so she was the first to speak up. “What?” she interrupted. “I thought y/n and Matt were dating.” Carrington admitted.

“Oh no. we’re not dating anymore.” Matt announced. Everybody went silent. it was awkward for everyone. Flo didn’t know you and matt ever dated, Carrington didn’t know you broke up. It was like nobody knew anything but, in reality Chris, Nick, and Tara knew.

Chris cleared his throat. “How about we just all go and eat.” “yeah. i agree.” “me too.” you all walked towards the food side of the fair and all got burgers. At this point, The triplets had already started vlogging for their channel. So, you didn’t speak much at all unless it was Tara, Carrington or Chris and Nick. “Y/n how’s the burger?” Chris asked pointing the Camera towards you, but he blurred your face out. “It’s good actually.” You smiled, going back to talking with Tara and Carrington. “so, how did you and yk who break up.” Carrington Chatted, looking up at you. “Car, she probably doesn’t-“ You interrupted tara. “No it’s fine.” You reassured. “uh, he didn’t try with me, so i broke it off.” You responded. “Oh, im sorry y/n. you didn’t deserve that.” He apologized. “Oh no, its fine. atleast hes making another girl happy.” You replied, looking at Matt and Flo. “but, still he gave her the love that you wanted. the love that you deserved.” Tara explained. “I know, i know but, maybe i just wasn’t lovable.” you cried now staring at your food. Tara hugged you, she felt upset that Matt would treat you in a way you didn’t deserve.

If anyone asked about you, Tara would say that you were the sweetest person ever. even in the worst situations, a situation like this one. no matter what, you would always try your best to stay positive. thats what she liked about you. that’s what everyone liked about you. “Cmon, lets go on a couple rides. ask chris and nick if they wanna come.” Tara said, pulling apart from you. you tapped nick on the shoulder. he turned you and asked what you needed. “Do you and chris want to go on rides with Carrington, Tara, and I?” you asked him. Chris turned hearing his name. “Sure, we’ll go.” He stood, nick following behind. That left both Matt and Flo alone. “Matt?” Flo murmured.

“Yes?”

“When did you and y/n date?”

“Oh, it was awhile ago. maybe about 7 months ago.”

“you didn’t tell me that.”

“i didn’t think i had too. It wasn’t anything to serious.” He explained to her. “Well do you still love her?” Flo asked. He never really even thought about if he still loved you or not. I mean, it wasn’t anything real. atleast thats what it seemed to him. “No, no i dont.” He replied, staring at his girlfriend. He looked at her lips, licking his own in the process. Flo sowly leaned in, kissing him. He kissed back, his hand on her cheeks, pulling her in to deepens the kiss. They both pulled apart.

“Good” She giggled.

“Y/n, you okay?” Nick asked, now holding your hand. Both of you were on the Ferris wheel, from where you were you could see everything. The beautiful sun starting to set, the lights, Matt and Flo. Everything. But, when you went to look around, you spotted Matt and Flo. They were playing a game, Matt was trying to win Flo a Stuffed animal. It was cute, and you were happy for him. you just wished he could’ve been that happy with you.

Nick followed your eyes and spotted both of them. “Oh honey, its okay. He didn’t deserve you.” Nick spoke, giving you a hug. “But, i really loved him. It’s been 7 months, i should be over him Nick.” You cried, using your index finger to catch your tears. “I know but, its hard to get over someone. it could take days, months or even years. its hard for everyone in a different aspect. for you, its seeing them together. but, i promise soon it’s gonna be all over and you’ll forget about him.” Nick Remarked.

Hearing him say that took a minute to process but, it took some of the pressure off your chest. You were entirely grateful to have nick as a friend, you wouldn’t ever replace him. he was way too special. “Thank you nick.” you sighed, getting off the ride, nick following behind. “Of course y/n. im always here for you, you’re one of my bestfriends and i wouldnt have it any other way.” He responded, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. you smiled at him.

“Hey guys” Nick spoke. “Guys im tired, im ready to go.” You yawned. “we were just talking about leaving. Do you want to ride with Me and Tara?” Carrington offered. “Yeah, i would like too.” You responded. “Alright y/n well, we’re gonna head out. We’ll see you at home okay?” Chris coaxed. “Okay, be careful. i love you.” you uttered. “we love you too.” Both Nick and Chris said, walking towards Wherever matt was.

You, Tara, and Carrington started walking towards the exit when tara spoke up. “So, how are you feeling?” She asked. “Im feeling okay. Could be better, but you know.” you sighed. “That’s good.” Tara responded. you gave her a loving smile and got in the back seat. “Are you guys hungry?” Tara asked looking at you and carrington. “yeah, i am.” He responded. “No, im okay.” “are you sure?”

“yep.” you replied, popping the P.

Soon, you guys were laughing, chit chatting, gossiping, listening to music together. You were happy, you felt confident, and everything in between. This was one of those moments where you if could stop time and stay in it forever. These were your friends, ones that made you truly happy. you were forever grateful to have people like them in your life.

“guys where’s y/n?” Matt asked looking at the two in the back through the rearview mirror. “I dont know why you care matt.” Chris snapped. “what do you mean? shes my friend.” Matt responded, keeping his cool. “yeah, she’s his friend.” Flo mocked. “now, i dont why the fuck your talkin pennywise.” Nick commented. “Nick! thats my girlfriend. dont disrespect her. now where’s y/n.” Matt declared.

“Shes with Tara and Carrington. why?” Chris responded. “Oh, no reason. im just asking.” Matt replied back. Flo looked at him, questioning whether or not she had heard him right. He’s never asked about her. ever. nor had she ever seen them talk. now, hes asking about you out the blue? Weird.

“Why doesn’t she talk to me?” Matt asked out the blue. Now, things were getting really weird. He’s never cared to ask about you, but now? Flo wasn’t having it. “Look it doesn’t matter. just leave it alo-“ Nick interrupted her. “Uh, uh dont be rude.” Nick commented

“anyways, considering one, you never talk and two, you hard launched being with her ex best friend, and three, the way you treated her, im not suprised she doesnt talk to you.” Chris Admitted. “But, i didn’t treat her bad. atleast, i dont think so.” Matt spoke. Was he a fucking idiot? He really hadn’t noticed the way he treated you. It pissed Chris off, the way you talked about matt even when he didn’t talk about you. maybe when you told everyone you loved him, despite the way he treated you. or maybe its the way that you loved matt a way no one ever could.

“thats the fucking problem Matt. you dont think.” Nick admitted. It was true, Matt never thinks. except for his girlfriend of course. Matt saw it different the everybody else. He saw it to where he thought the way he loved you was enough. but, there was no love. how were you supposed to be loved enough, when there was no love.

the ride after was just awkward silence. No one had anything to say and it stayed that way.

“we’re home.” Matt spoke up, getting out the car. Everyone was tired from being out all day and the triplets having to record. It was a long day, and everybody was exhausted and ready to go to sleep. but, of course they knew you were going to be home soon, so they just stayed up for the time being. In the mean time, they were just going to watch a movie.

everyone made it inside the door, stopping to take their shoes off. “God, im exhausted” Chris plopped on the couch. “I think all of us are.” Nick plopped down next to Chris. Matt and Flo sat on the other couch. Matt was listening to Nick and Matt’s conversation when he noticed Flo falling asleep in his lap. “you tired baby?” He ran his hand down her arm. “yeah.” Flo sighed. “lets get you to bed.” Matt replied, picking her up bridal style. He walked up to his room, “i’ll be back.” Chris and Nick just hummed “mhms”

eventually the triplets hear keys jingle, they knew you were home. “Thanks for bringing home guys.” You smiled, waving Tara and Carrington Bye. you closed the door behind you and took your shoes off. “Hi guys” you walked towards the couch. “Hi y/n” Chris Replied.

“Hey”

“Hi”

You were caught by surprise. Matt saying hi to you? He’s never said hi to you. it felt weird. but, you brushed it off. maybe he was just being nice.

you propped your feet up on the table and looked through instagram. You were acrolling when you abruptly stopped, you saw Flo made a post. it was her and matt kissing at the table you sat when you were eating. it was captioned, “at the fair with my pretty boy.” “my pretty boy?” you thought to yourself. It was the nickname you gave matt when you first started dating. now, someone else got to call him that. you felt tears spill onto your hand. you took a deep breath, hoping nobody noticed.

your heart started to race. your head was getting dizzy, it was getting hard to breathe. you could feel a panic attack starting to happen. you were crying, when Chris called out for you. you could barely hear him, your ears were starting to ring.

“y/n ? are you okay?” Chris panicked.

“O-okay, look at me y/n.” He whispered.

“take deep breaths with me.”

you did what he asked you too, not complaining once.

“thats it. you’re doing so well sweet girl.”

when you had finally calmed down, you hugged him. “Thank you.” you whispered. “you’re welcome sweet girl.” He replied, his hand running down your back. you pulled apart, smiled at him. he’d never seen such gorgeous eyes, the way they glistened in the light. you were gorgeous. he would give anything to see you happy all the time. “are you gonna be okay?” He asked you. “yeah.” you reassured. he kissed you forehead and went back to what he was doing.

Matt watched it all happening, his heart dropped. why did he feel this way? maybe because he knew what it felt like to go through that, maybe it was because you didnt ask for him. or maybe just maybe, it was because he still loved you deep down. but, not once did you ask for him. you hadn’t said a word to him in months, and he was going to figure out why. thats when he asked you if he could talk to you.

“what do you want matt?” you asked him, already annoyed. “Why dont you talk to me?” He questioned, looking down at his feet like they were more important. “I dont know Matt why dont i?” you snickered. “Oh i dont maybe its because your dating my ex best friend who i told you about!” you whispered. “y/n-“

“no matt. i cant do this. you knew she was my friend and you brought her back here?! where i fucking live!” you snapped. “y/n im sorry. i didn’t think you’d be so mad about it.” He responded back. “im not surprised matt. you never think.”

“then why are you so upset y/n.”

“because, you gave her the love i never got. the love i begged for and needed. But i never seemed to be enough for you.”

“i thought the love i gave you was enough y/n, im sorry.”

“there was no love. there’s no love when there isnt enough of it Matt.” you cried. he didn’t understand how hurt you felt, but you wished he had. all you had wanted from him was the love you never got. but, even that was too much to ask for.

“y/n im sorry..” he sighed. He didn’t what else to say besides ‘im sorry’. he knew that wasn’t going to fix anything but, he just wanted to make things better. He didn’t know why he had treated you the way he did, but he wished he could’ve gone back to fix it.

“stop saying sorry matt. thats not gonna fix things. nothing will, and now that you’re with Flo im never gonna stop seeing her fucking face. so, dont even apologize when shes still gonna be around.”

“i have to be honest with matt. she just wants you for the money. i know how she is, she used to be my friend and tell me about it the whole time. you dont have to listen to me but, i couldn’t not tell you.” you informed. he needed to hear what you said, and maybe he would believe you or he wouldnt. either way, everything was up to him.

“ i dont believe you. look, i love her y/n, like alot, and i cant risk losing her.” He replied. In all honesty, he didnt know whether he believed you or not but, what he said was true. he couldn’t risk losing the girl he loved now. she was his everything, and he was hers. it was going to stay way.

you could feel tears starting to swell up. “fine matt.” you walked towards the front door. “believe what you want.” you weren’t lying. it was either let him believe what he wanted, or warn him. and you did both, but Matt was to fucking inlove to listen. so, you didn’t care anymore.

“y/n you cant just fucking leave.”

“yes i can, and i will.”

at this point the twins could see everything that was happening. they felt angry at matt, angry that he tried talking to you about the situation in the first place.

“please, i can fix this.” Matt cried. “no, no you cant matt. it already happened, there’s no point.” you responded.

“why not?” He sighed, catching his tears with his index finger. “Matt because..” you sighed.

“you put in effort into everything we did together with her, and thats all i ever asked. all i wanted was for you to try.”

a/n: guys im not even joking, this shit took 4 fucking days to finish. i had so much damn writers block its not even funny. like, i bed rotted while writing. but, its finally donee! with much love, Alondra.🫶🏽

taglistt!!

@inkyray @bernardsbendystraws @sassysturniolo2008 @riowritesitall @patscorner @urfavstromboli @flouvela @sturniolosarethebest (um hello…i forgot to tag my baby camila. my apologies, i love you) (i think thats it, if not, i’ll come back and edit!)

[brunette-bitch77]

ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ?! (;° ロ°)

Summary: When the relationship is so well, you tend to forget a lot of things... such as your inability to drive A/N: So... this is inspired by my current predicament 😭 I've put off getting my license for a while now but I'm getting it next week!! You're still welcome to read if you can drive. Pairing: Satoru Gojo, Toji Fushiguro, Kento Nanami, Yami Sukehiro x reader CW: light teasing (reader can't drive obvi), mentions of car accidents, pure fluff, reader is married to Nanami, sexual jokes (Toji)

Kҽɳƚσ Nαɳαɱι

╰┈➤ One of the hottest sights to see was whenever your fiancé, Kento Nanami, put his arm on his seat so he could put the car in reverse and pull out of the parking spot. You didn't know exactly what that did, given the fact that you two rarely had to drive in the middle of Tokyo, but you still appreciated whenever he offered to drive the two of you out on dates.

"Those heels are pretty high, honey, are you sure you won't get too sore?" was something he said whenever you went out on date nights all dressed up for him.

"I like to look cute for you, Kenny," you pouted, putting the final strap of your sandals on.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to wear those ankle killers to look cute for me," he said with a chuckle, the smile breaking his usually calm and stoic expression. "You could wear a pair of flats or sneakers and still look like the most beautiful woman on earth to me."

"Don't get it twisted; I also like to look cute for me," you retorted once more, making him laugh again.

"Have it your way, sweetheart. I have to say: you do look quite cute right now. Now, would you like to take the car, call a cab, or take the metro?"

Right now, the two of you were getting quite serious in your relationship. It was time for you to abandon your 1 bed/1 bath apartments and upgrade to a bigger place for the two of you. It's worth mentioning that you both had different ideas of what the perfect place to live was: you liked living in the heart of the city, and a 2 bedroom apartment in a cosmopolitan area, close to plenty of subway stations and yummy restaurants to try; Nanami liked his peace and quiet, and that usually involved a long commute (much to your dismay). In the end, you settled on a house in a neighborhood that was perfectly close to what was going on and also far enough out that Nanami got some much needed rest and relaxation.

One of the problems of said neighborhood was the faulty subway stations that were frequently in disrepair. Most of the residents in your area drove cars in order to get places which meant that the neighborhood board didn't feel it was necessary to renovate the subway stations. This was bad news for you because you were one of the only people who took it everywhere they went. So, when the one closest to your house was under complete renovation for the week, you were left stranded and had to go wherever Kento went.

What was even more unfortunate was that one day, you had to specifically ask him for a ride to get somewhere. He was currently resting on the couch, having the day off, so you couldn't exactly hitch a ride and get dropped off somewhere close to where you were heading.

"Sure thing," was what he said without a second thought. You breathed a sigh of relief and were glad that the most embarrassing part was over, only for him to ask: "if you don't mind me asking, why did you need to ask me to give you one? Can't you take the car on your own?"

"Um... well," you said, a little nervous by the sudden questions. You then looked up at your boyfriend who now had a questioning look on his face.

"See, I could, but then I'd probably crash it... because I don't know how to drive."

And there it was: the ugly truth baring its fangs at your handsome fiancé. During your three years of dating and your one year of engagement, he'd never figured out why he was always the one driving or why you always took the subway everywhere you went.

"How come?" he asked in a tone that was neither judgmental nor harsh.

"So, you see," you started, trying to make it sound as normal as you possibly could. "I'm... afraid of car accidents. Very afraid of them," you said with a slight frown. "And I'm afraid that I wouldn't be capable enough to handle such a big piece of metal without something bad happening. What if I lost control over the steering wheel or the gas pedal got jammed and I... took another person's life?" You looked at the floor out of embarrassment. "Hah, would you look at that: a 28 year old who can't drive."

Kento looked at you, this time with an apologetic smile on his face. He reached out, cupped your cheek, and brought your gaze back to his. "(Y/N), don't be embarrassed. There are plenty of people who get by and live their day-to-day lives without needing a car. But, you need to understand that knowing how to drive is a very helpful skill in life. What if you were far away from any metropolitan areas and someone you were with got into a bad accident, and you had to drive them to the hospital?"

You looked up at him like a kicked puppy, a shy smile gracing your features. He always knew the best things to say for times like these. "You're right: I should know how to drive. I guess I just never got around to it," you said with a small huff through your nose. "You really are too kind to me, Ken. Anyone else would've turned their nose at me and passed me off as someone incapable."

"Why would I ever turn my nose at you, sweetheart?" He asked, his hand still on your cheek, now rubbing it with his thumb. "You still have plenty of wonderful qualities worth celebrating. And, you're right: you just never got around to it."

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Why don't I teach you how to drive? I've been told I'm a great driver by people very close to me," he offered, making you giggle.

"You're simply the best fiancé, Ken. You'd really do that for me?"

"For you? I'd do anything. Now, let's fill out a permit form and get you that license."

"Alright, first thing's first: let's get out of this parking spot," Kento said, his hand steady and guiding yours as he gave you a demonstration. "Turn the steering wheel left, and the car will back up in that same direction, and vice versa for turning right."

"Okay," you said, determined to get out of that spot.

You began to reverse, only for him to stop you: "stop, stop, stop the car." You freaked out and looked at him, abruptly pressing the brake pedal. "Honey, you can't just reverse without looking behind you; there could've been a child!"

Speaking of the devil: there was a child walking behind the car.

"Shit... sorry," you said, biting your lip out of worry. He just sighed and shook his head.

"Make sure to use the backup camera; although on the actual test itself, you won't be able to use it, so it's best that you use your head to turn for now. Here, this is what you do when you reverse." He grabbed the steering wheel with one hand and turned his head in the opposite direction, and you almost got distracted by the veins on his forearms when he said: "eyes on me, sweetheart."

"Sorry, babe." You smiled at him bashfully before mimicking the action, reversing just as he'd directed you.

"That's it, honey, you're already doing so well," he said encouragingly, reaching out to press a kiss to your forehead.

Praise always made your stomach flip, even in non-sexual situations.

"Keep it up, and you'll be better than me in no time."

Sαƚσɾυ Gσʝσ

╰┈➤ Satoru Gojo was good at everything, and you knew that even before you got into a relationship with the powerful sorcerer. You'd always heard stories from both his friends and strangers about how he could accomplish anything very quickly with only a single demonstration given on how to do it. This man could do everything: play soccer, ballroom dance, speak 30 languages (according to him), and he was even good at chemistry! If you weren't the man's pride and joy--the man's girlfriend--then it would've been really annoying to put up with such nonchalant skill.

He still made sure to tease you from time to time, saying that he could do whatever you could do but with tenfold skill (he really could; he just didn't want you to grow resentful of him (not that you would)). These claims were usually never backed up because at the end of the day, he knew that he was just joking with you.

One of the best things about having Satoru Gojo as your boyfriend was him being your personal chauffeur who could drive you anywhere he wanted in the least amount of time with the most amount of efficiency possible. He was even good at riding motorcycles which you usually weren't too fond of, given how dangerous they were.

But, oh, how his teasing tongue was just so irritating whenever he decided to use it. The man was an amazing boyfriend and an even more amazing best friend, but he could also be really cocky at times and for good reason.

"Satoruuu, I wanna go shopping," you drawled out, your arms landing around his broad shoulders and pulling his attention from the stack of papers on his desk to you. "Mind taking me?" You knew the man couldn't possibly resist because of his love for shopping which was greater than yours (seriously, how was it possible that someone loved shopping more than you?)

Satoru chuckled and gave you his trademark cocky grin. "You're asking me for a ride like I'm your personal chauffeur, eh?"

"Is that not what you are?" you quipped back, making him feign hurt.

"I'm hurt; my girlfriend's been using me this entire time for rides!" he said sarcastically, putting his hand on his forehead for added effect.

"Like you don't love going shopping more than I do," you scoffed, taking your hands off his shoulders and putting them back on your hips. "C'mon; you and I both know you can't resist a good shopping trip."

"Never said I was trying to," he said, standing up from the chair and stretching his long legs out. "I've been needing an excuse to escape these papers, anyway. Always so stupidly menial and boring."

"You're the one who wanted to be a teacher."

"Yeah, so I could raise a couple nice generations of kids; not so I could raise my blood pressure with these papers that need grading!"

"Be glad you only have, like, 10 kids to worry about--some teachers have 30 per class. And even then, it's basically 9 kids to grade, since Yuji's papers are never that hard to grade."

"That's true," he acquiesced with a snicker, shaking his head at the boy's... delayed learning.

"Anyway, I'll grab my purse, and you grab your sunglasses," you said, walking away to get said purse from your closet. Once you did, you returned to find Satoru waiting outside, perched against the car nonchalantly.

"Ready to spend my money?"

"You know it, baby," you giggled, making him shake his head. Once in the car, he did his thing and reversed out of the space, driving to the mall with the skill of an F1 racer.

Along the way, his tongue was just itching to say something to you, though: "Y'know, princess, I find it funny how you're always needing me to drive places. You're like my little passenger princess," he crooned, patting your head, only to be met with your swatting hands. "It's like you can't even drive."

That little quip, while it may have had innocent intentions, made you freeze up for a moment.

That's right: Satoru didn't know about your lack of driving ability.

"Cat got your tongue?" he asked, looking over at you while his hands effortlessly rotated the steering wheel for a turn.

"More like my license," you muttered, making his teasing smile drop.

"Huh?"

"Are you as clueless as you are tall?" you asked, looking up from your phone at him, face scrunched up like an angry kitten. "I'm saying I can't drive."

That confession almost made Satoru hit the brakes in the middle of a busy road. "You can't drive?!"

"No!" you said, a little angrier and louder than you'd meant it to be. It was clear that he'd hit a sore spot, so he cooled off the accusations and the teasing. "I can't drive... I never learned how to. I was supposed to learn it when I was younger, but I... y'know, just forgot to! It slipped my mind, was all." Satoru let the weight of your words sink in, realizing that this was a big insecurity for you, judging by the defensive tone.

"Baby, I'm sorry for provoking you like that," he said. He only ever used the pet name "baby" for when you were either mad at him or in just a plain bad mood. "I had no idea."

"How could you have? I never told you," you scoffed.

"Well, that part is true... still, I should've known something was up. You always love car rides--you get to blast your music at full volume--but you never actually wanna drive yourself," he chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood.

"It's always been an insecurity for me." You leaned forward, your elbows resting on the dashboard temporarily. "My friends--our friends don't give two shits about that kinda stuff unless they don't get gas money, but whenever old-heads find that out they make it seem like you have stage 4 breast cancer. 'Oh, you can't drive? However will you get around places?' Uh, I dunno, the metro?" Your little joke about geriatric seniors not minding their businesses made him laugh.

"You tell 'em."

"I was gonna learn, I even promised myself I would... but then I met you, and I started dating you, and you were just such a good driver that I felt it wasn't necessary to learn..." He was about to say something when you decided to continue: "... but it's wrong for me to rely on you for everything. I'm an adult; I should be able to do stuff on my own, even if I have a boyfriend who makes everything easier for me."

Satoru's face relaxed into a soft smile, and he glanced over at you while still driving. "That's true--that's all very true. You are an adult, even if you're still my princess," he said while ruffling your hair. "Tell you what: in order to repay me all those car rides I've given you, you have to let me teach you how to drive."

You looked over at him, your smile replaced by a soft look of shock with your lips slightly parted. "Really? You'd do that for me?"

"What kind of a man would I be if I let my girl struggle to learn with some old hag who barks at their students?" he asked with a toothy, cocky grin. "It's just like you said: I'm the best driver you know, so why not train with the best?"

"Satoru..." you leaned in suddenly, pressing a big kiss to his cheek. "You're the best! Thank you so much!"

"I know, I know," he chuckled, his pale cheeks slightly red from the praise. You then whacked him upside the head, making him let out an "ow!"

"Cocky bastard," you said under your breath.

"Alright, don't forget to use your turn signals, baby," he said, reaching out to turn it on.

"Right," you said with an apologetic smile. He was just like a mother hen when he taught you how to do stuff. Seriously, how could Yuji have been such a bad student? You were currently on your sixth driving lesson with your boyfriend, and you were already a better driver than most people you knew (except for him, of course).

"And keep your eyes on the road- watch out!" You were about to cross an intersection when an elderly lady was crossing the street. She barked some curses at you in Japanese before continuing on her way.

"Sorry!" You said to both him and the old lady.

"It's alright, you're still doing great," he said with a proud smile on his face. "See that sign up there? It says 'yield to pedestrians' which means you have to slow down and let any and all pedestrians cross before continuing. It's not your fault 100%; that lady was quite slow and small, but still, you have to keep your focus on the road at all times. No daydreaming or zoning off, no matter how hot your driving instructor is." He flashed you one of his cocky Satoru smiles before you whacked him upside the head again. "Ow! ... anyway, let's spin the block once more before calling it a day, yeah? I'll cut the lesson short since you've been doing so good."

"Can we get frozen yogurt after?" you asked, making sure your focus was still on the road.

"We can get anything as long as it satisfies my sweet tooth and doesn't break the bank."

As if his bank account wasn't literally limitless.

As you spun around the block once more, making sure not to hit any little old ladies or small children, you muttered an "I love you" under your breath.

"What was that, baby?" he asked, turning his ear to face you, "I don't think I caught what you said."

"I said I love you," you said, rolling your eyes out of how needy he was.

"That's the spirit." He smiled at you before relaxing into the seat, still keeping his focus for the two of you. "Y'know, maybe later, you can repay your gratitude to your super awesome and amazing and sexy boyfriend for being such an amazing teacher."

"In your dreams, snow leopard," you jested sarcastically.

Satoru merely chuckled and changed the song on the radio to something he liked better.

"Yeah, I sure as hell will be dreaming of it."

Tσʝι Fυʂԋιɠυɾσ

╰┈➤ Your man, Toji Fushiguro, radiated dilf energy from every fiber of his being. Even though you and him had yet to marry--let alone have kids, you knew that, one day, he was gonna be an amazing (and super sexy) father to your children. You already had baby names picked out for said future children, even though you'd still like to enjoy your youth before having them; you didn't wanna waste your youth on diapers when you could be getting turnt.

One of the things that made Toji so dilf-y in your eyes was the way he drove. You know that specific way that fathers drive the family van at a moderately-fast but not illegal speed & how they look so good doing it? Like they were built to be Nascar drivers? Yeah, that's how Toji drove, with his sexy girlfriend in the passenger seat to boot. A small part of him loved it when guys driving in the next lane over could see a beautiful chick & gained the slightest bit of hope that they could get your number before the light turned green... only to have their dreams crushed by the sight of the oh-so hot and oh-so intimidating man who was driving said car, his thick forearms on display and his veins popping while he had his hands on the steering wheel. They couldn't see his eyes through the sunglasses he wore, but they could tell that he was all but sneering at them. They'd look like little boys next to him, after all.

He also especially loved it when you two pulled over at the nearest secluded parking lot, horny out of your fucking minds and unable to resist each other's touch, and he especially loved it when you sucked his dick in the backseat and then rode his cock like your life depended on it (in that same backseat, of course).

Yeah, you guess you could say you loved it when Toji drove the two of you places. "Just sit back and let your boyfriend be your chauffeur, doll," was his tagline whenever you two hopped into the car.

You wouldn't deny him the opportunity to drive you around, especially since you couldn't drive.

Those little moments in the car would be put on hold, however, when Toji's arm got severely wounded while fighting a particularly pesky target. Not only that, but it was his good driving arm that he couldn't drive without!

It should've been fine, since he had superhuman healing powers and therefore only had to wear an arm-cast for a day or two. He had the day off, and he'd be damned if some stupid injury got in the way of enjoying his day off with his favorite girl. You'd also just be the one driving around, he presumed.

"Hey, sweetheart," his gruff voice said into your ear, making you jump out of surprise. "Sorry for spookin' ya," he said with a laugh, ruffling your hair with the hand that wasn't broken.

"Don't scare me like that; you know how silent you can be."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just too good of an assassin," he quipped, his laughter piping down. "Why don't the two of us go out and get somethin' to eat, and maybe get a dessert afterwards? You know I love something sweet to eat." You raised your eyebrows when he mentioned dessert, knowing damn well that his idea of "dessert" eating your ass. "Nah, nah, not that kinda dessert; I'm in the mood for a parfait or two. I've recently developed a sweet tooth because of your sweet ass."

"Or two?" you asked mockingly, raising your eyebrow.

"Big boys gotta eat big meals, am I right?" he asked, that classic Toji smirk never leaving his face. "C'mon, I'll even pay for it."

"Sure, sure, where do you wanna eat?"

Toji shrugged. "Doesn't make a difference to me as long as the restaurant's good."

"Alright, lemme just get my suica card."

"Don't you wanna drive instead? I know damn well you ain't walkin' in those heels, baby," he said, looking down at the 4-inch heels you were wearing. "Plus, I don't wanna ride the subway when I've got this big-ass cast on."

"O-Oh, um," you started stammering a little, not wanting to let him know that you couldn't drive while also not trying to argue with him.

Toji, however, in his infinite perceptiveness, saw you stammering, and that little smirk faltered a little. He looked at you with question, wondering why you were at a loss for words when it came to driving you two to the restaurant. "Somethin' wrong, baby? What's got you stuttering?"

"Um... well, the reason is because I can't drive."

Toji stared at you for a few seconds, letting the information sink in. "Doll, you can't drive?"

"N-No, I can't drive! I... never got my license," you said, your voice gradually diminishing in size. "I just didn't get one when I was younger, okay? Don't judge me for it!" you added defensively, crossing your arms over your pink top.

"Calm down, baby, I'm not judging you for anything," Toji said, raising his one hand to calm you down. "It's alright if you can't drive; if anything, it's cute."

"Cute?" you repeated back.

He chuckled for a few seconds and explained his reasoning. "Yeah: it's cute as hell that you need me to drive you around everywhere. You're like a cute little kitten: all defensive and hissy, but still dependent on me." He stepped closer and ruffled your hair for a few seconds to which you didn't swat his hand away. When he finally removed his hand and put it on his hip, he reached to take his phone out of his pocket. "So, should we take an Uber?"

"Yeah, if you want to," you sighed, rubbing your forehead and squeezing your cheeks together out of worry.

"Hey, hey, don't be so strung up, doll," he said, trying to relieve some of the tension in your body. "Once I get all patched up and take this stupid cast off my arm, you'll be back to being my passenger princess." He flashed you a crooked grin, trying to alleviate your mood.

"I know you will, but what if it's a more serious injury? What if you couldn't use your arm for a month or two--what if you lost your arm?" you asked, furrowing your brow in stress and pouting as well.

Toji sighed, giving you an apologetic smile. "You're right. Plus, driving's a good skill that could come in handy someday. I know we've got great transit in Tokyo, but if we were to live somewhere smaller with less public transit, what'd we do if we couldn't drive?"

"As if I'd live anywhere with less shopping," you scoffed, making him chuckle.

"I'm just saying: we can't just rely on public transit alone."

You took a deep breath, calming yourself down and getting rid of the attitude. "You're right, you're right, I just got a little tense. Driving is a necessary skill which could come in handy one day."

"Damn straight, doll," he agreed with a chuckle. "Right now, let's just take that Uber and get somethin' to eat, 'kay? We'll figure out all that driving shit later."

"Alright, doll, keep your eyes on the road and not on your man's arms," he instructed you, making you snap out of the trance that his arms had unintentionally put you in.

"Maybe don't have arms worth drooling over," you sassed, making him chuckle.

"Hey, I'm just tryin' to give my girl somethin' sturdy to hold onto when she wants it," he retorted, putting his hands up in defense, still keeping that smirk on his face. "Anyway, just look straight ahead, and nothing should get in the- shit, watch out!"

Out of nowhere, a red car sped through the street, rounding the corner very sharply and almost hitting your car as it did so. You immediately hit the brakes, startled beyond all belief with the hair on your arms standing up. "Sorry, sorry," you mumbled. "I didn't see that car."

"I know you didn't. Don't worry 's not your fault; it's their fault, if anything. Fuckin' assholes don't know how to control their fuckin' cars," he spat, rubbing your shoulder as the red car sped off. "But, that's why it's important to keep your eyes on the road: you can keep watch and make sure that some shitty ass driver doesn't hit you and get you into an accident."

You nodded, keeping that fact in mind. "Alright: keep my eyes on the road." You took a deep breath, making sure that there weren't any out-of-control drivers headed your way.

"So cute when you focus," he muttered under his breath. He watched as you changed lanes, rounded corners smoothly, and stopped perfectly at the red lights. "Good job, good job!" he praised enthusiastically, clapping just to add effect. "You're already doing such an amazing job!"

You smiled and looked away bashfully, still keeping your focus on the road. "Thank you, thank you," you giggled, accepting any and all praise.

"No; thank you for being a great student and not giving me a fucking heart attack," he chuckled, relaxing into his seat. "Alright, now: drive a few more blocks, and then we can go home and watch whatever chick flick you wanna watch. Maybe afterwards, I can feed you some dessert?"

"Yeah, that sounds-" you stopped talking when you realized what you meant by dessert. "Toji, you pervert!"

He laughed loudly at your reaction and shook his head.

"As if you could resist my desserts; your sweet tooth's just too damn strong for your own good."

Yαɱι Sυƙҽԋιɾσ (modern AU)

╰┈➤ If there was one thing that got Yami Sukehiro's dick hard, it was a strong woman--a woman who didn't take shit from anybody; didn't need to rely on others or be babied; and who most certainly wasn't incapable of handling themselves. Everyone should be able to handle themselves when they're adults because it was what made one an adult!

One of the things that he believed made an adult an adult was getting around on their own, whether it be by car, metro, or even by helicopter (if you had the budget). Your boyfriend and you had different modes of transportation: you chose to take the metro, and Yami liked to drive his car, even if he had terrible road rage and hated traffic (Tokyo's traffic could be terrible on certain days).

"Come on! Hurry your asses up already!!" Yami barked from the driver's seat, honking the horn as loudly as he could. "Shut the hell up, you bastard!!" he barked again when the person behind him honked the horn. Naturally, his first reaction was to honk back ten times harder. "Wish I could teleport or somethin'..."

Regardless of your preferred mode of transportation, he just wanted you to get where you were going efficiently.

One day, after he'd refused forgotten to pay one too many parking tickets, he sadly had his license revoked. He believed that losing your license over tickets was a myth and that you could only lose it over DUIs, but when the police took that little piece of paper away from him, he now knew that it wasn't a myth.

"Hey, honey," his deep and raspy voice said into your ear one morning, "do you think you could give me a ride to work today?" Just to convince you further, he wrapped his big, muscular arms around you and pulled you close to him.

"What do you need a ride for?"

"Um, well... got my license revoked," he mumbled into your ear.

"Hm?"

"I said I got my license revoked," he said louder this time, his arms instinctively tightening around you. He buried his face into your shoulder and avoided your gaze, not wanting to see the judgment on it.

"Suke, why did you get your license revoked?" you asked him, brows furrowing together out of confusion. You turned around in his embrace and grabbed his cheeks, making him look at you.

"I forgot to pay a parking ticket," he mumbled, sighing deeply. His charcoal eyes met yours, and he looked like a kicked puppy.

"Baby, you know I could've helped you with that."

"No," he refuted firmly, shaking his head in response to your offer. "I don't want my girl doing anything I can do with my own two hands; I wouldn't be a man if I let that happen."

You gave him an remorseful smile and now it was your turn to sigh. "You and your chivalry..."

He let out the tiniest whine and hid his face in your hair. "Shut up," he mumbled, "can you just gimme a ride? Please? I'll give you gas money if you need it."

"I can get you a suica if you need one," you offered, shoulders shrugging in his arms.

"Ugh, not the metro--I don't wanna take the metro. Too many things can happen and it'll fuck my timing up if I do." By timing he meant the amount of time he can cuddle with you on the couch before going off to work. "And there's too many people--I just don't like taking it. Can't you take the car instead? Just this once? I know you hate traffic and all, but it'll just be until I get my license back."

All of a sudden, you went quiet, looking off to the side (quite embarrassedly so).

"What're the tight lips for, baby?" he asked, cocking his head to the side out of his obliviousness. "Hey, you know I don't like it when you go silent on me."

"Suke, I can't... I can't drive."

"What do you mean you can't drive? Didn't you get your license when you turned 18?"

"No, I didn't!" you exclaimed, making his brow furrow further. Once he realized that you were serious and not joking around with him, his confused expression turned into a remorseful frown.

"Well, you're an adult! You have to know how to drive!"

"Shut up already!!" you snapped back in response, embarrassed from that same fact that he brought up. He sighed and released you, letting you walk away and cool down for a sec.

"Honey..." he looked down at the floor and then up at you again, his frown still there. "I'm sorry for making you so upset, I just- I've just never met an adult who doesn't know how to drive, so I didn't know how to react."

"That's 'cus you're a blue collar worker who needs to know how to operate a car," you sassed, making him "tch."

"Well, I guess you're right," he conceded with a chuckle. His eyes followed you and, once he saw that you were cooled down, he came closer to you. "C'mere, hon," he coaxed with his arms outstretched, beckoning you to come closer and give him a hug. You didn't say anything and did as he wanted, letting him encircle his arms around you. "I'm sorry for getting you riled up, I really am. I've been trying to control my temper lately, and I slipped up."

"Hell yeah, you did," you mumbled into his thick chest, his pecs making your words come out muffled. "Control that shit if you want cuddles."

He chuckled and shook his head. "For your cuddles, I'll do anything."

"Could you teach me how to drive?" You asked softly, looking up at Yami and offering him the best puppy eyes you could possibly muster up. "I don't wanna be embarrassed the next time someone asks me for a ride."

"Baby, you already gave me enough reason with those puppy eyes," he reassured you, running his calloused fingers through your hair and smiling at you. "Alright, since you asked so nicely, I'll teach you how to drive a car. But fair warning: my road rage isn't to be messed with."

"I know, I know--I've seen said road rage firsthand many times."

He just laughed and rested his chin atop your head again. "So, how many minutes do we have for cuddles before I have to take the metro?"

"Enough to satisfy your little heart."

"Perfect," he sighed, already leading you to the couch for said cuddles.

Later, he'd face-time you for a half hour while angrily trying to figure out how the stupid train lines work, making several people look at him out of fear. "What're you looking at, you little punk?! I'll kick your ass!" he shouted at a rather short man who'd accidentally looked at him the wrong way.

"Yami Sukehiro, don't beat up the other riders!" you scolded him over the phone.

"Hey, eyes on the road at all times!" he barked a little too loudly, making you flinch while keeping your hands steadily on the steering wheel. "And don't you dare take your hands off the steering wheel!" he also said rather loudly.

"I know, I know! Stop shouting and just let me drive!" you shouted back, making his blood vessel pop in his forehead.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead, trying to calm down. "Sorry, sorry, honey; I'm just a little stressed whenever I'm on the road."

"A little?" you asked, almost in disbelief that he could be stressed out "just a little" bit.

"Well, don't give me that look! Driving's dangerous and you can get hurt if you're not focused."

"And who said I wasn't focused?"

"You were staring at my biceps earlier when we were supposed to change lanes." You didn't say anything back, instead looking at the road again with a deep blush on your face. You zeroed in on the road this time, bringing a tiny smile to his face. "I hope you know it doesn't mean anything if I get mad at you; unless we get into an accident, of course. I just care a lot about you, and I don't want some shitty driver getting my honey into a car accident."

"Right, because who would give your big ass all the cuddles you want later?" you asked with a snicker.

"Hey! The correct term is beefy," he retorted, flexing his rather thick arm just to prove a point. You shook your head and managed to keep your eyes on the road, making his smile widen. "Speaking of cuddles, would it be too much to ask if we could cuddle later tonight? Been missing your touch..."

"We cuddled right before this, Suke."

"It's not enough. Did y'know one of my three favorite things is cuddling? This big man right here needs some love and affection from time to time."

"I thought your three favorite things were gambling, beer and sleeping?" You asked, making him pout in a way too cute way. He crossed his arms over his chest and instead turned his eyes back to the road along with you.

"FYI: I quit gambling for you..."

"So, what's this new third favorite thing?" Your question made him chuckle, and he looked at you again.

"You, of course. Now, drive us home so that I can get those cuddles in."

YAMI BRAINROT IS TOO REAL I NEED TO MARRY HIM move over Charlotte

© ʙʀᴜɴᴇᴛᴛᴇ-ʙɪᴛᴄʜ77 on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 6/21/2024

[jasmineoolongtea]

coffee jelly and parfait ― chapter 1: caramel pudding

pairing: bodyguard!toji x baker!reader (f), toji is 38, reader is 22

summary: after working towards and succeding in accomplishing your lifelong dream working for one of the most famous bakeries in tokyo, you decide to go out for a night of celebratory drinking. however, the next morning, you wake up and find out that you're now married to a total stranger and an older one at that! but, turns out, this accidental marriage of yours might be more useful than you think.

contents: a sesame salt and pudding!au, age gap relationship (16 years - everyone is completely legal here!!!), marriage of convenience/accidental marriage, fluff, angst, slice of life, nicknames (toji is referred to as ossan by reader which is an informal way of referring to a middle-aged man in Japanese and this is taken directly from the manga inspo behind this)

warnings: drinking/alcohol, smoking (from toji)

word count: 3.9k words (much beefer than i was expecting ngl)

extras:

⤷ mood board/pinterest board

a/n: ahhh i'm so excited to finally be able to work on this series since it's been workshopping in the back of my mind for a while shdhahwj hope you guys enjoy this and hope you have an amazing day/night !!! sorry that this chapter is so exposition-heavy rip djasd, i promise later chapters will get better. as always, any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <333

It's normal for weird things to happen after a night of heavy drinking, right?

You've heard all sorts of stories from your friends and family about the strange antics drunk people get up to once they get a certain amount of liquor running through their veins. It can range from small silly things like trying out a new skill in public due to a sudden burst of newfound confidence to more extreme ones like running away from an angry mob of people that you've accidentally incited somehow. Despite the difference in their severity, the common thread here remains: all are mostly harmless things and nothing that is possibly life-changing.

Much to your dismay, however, you seem to be the outlier in all those cases. Actually, it appears to be that you've managed to outdo almost everyone this time as this one definitely has to take the cake right here or whatever award they give out for things like this.

This morning, as you wake up and open your bedroom door, you suddenly find yourself face to face with a complete stranger, who very much appears to be an older guy, standing right outside in your apartment.

And to top off this already weird trajectory of events, as if things could not possibly get even stranger, it also turns out that you've apparently married said stranger last night.

...What!?!

-

To say that your memory of last night is hazy would be a massive understatement in all senses of the word. But what you do remember clearly is the reason why you went drinking in the first place, which was to congratulate yourself for finally achieving your lifelong dream up to this point.

After years of blood, sweat and tears spent at the Tsuji Culinary School where you fought with tooth, fist and nails against hundreds of other culinary hopefuls to win the highly coveted and only place available for the exchange programme to Le Cordon Bleu institute in France, your suffering was not all for nought as on your glorious return back to Japan, you've managed to land your dream job of working at one of Tokyo's most famous bakeries, Pierre Hermé.

If that was not a perfect reason to celebrate and drink the night away completely carefree then you don't know what was.

However, there was one tiny little snag in your plans for a joyous night out. The moment that you returned home to give your roommate the good news, still trying to come down from the high of hearing the good news, it seemed that she apparently also had a similar genius idea of her own and decided to inform you that she was leaving you to search for somewhere else to live closer to her job.

For most people, that wouldn't be a problem as they could just be able to leisurely search for a new roommate at their own pace. But for you, this was not the case as you were facing a different set of circumstances. For you, your move to Tokyo was entirely conditional on the fact that would stay with someone and this was explicitly set and outlined by your dad. Now roommate-less, you suddenly had a ticking expiry date placed on all your ambitions that you had barely scratched the surface of by this point.

This was probably the worst case of whiplash you've ever had, going from an extreme high to an extreme low all in the span of less than 10 minutes. Unfortunately, it seemed that the odds were very much not in your favour. But how could you let that waver your resolve? If you had learned anything from your years of existing is that you weren't going to give up and relent that easily.

So, in actuality, it was somewhat a lie that you were only out drinking for one reason. In reality, it was for two reasons; one, to congratulate yourself on achieving your dreams and two, to try and forget your newfound problem through the power of alcohol. And this was how you found yourself complaining to a bunch of strangers at a local izakaya, surrounded by several empty pints of beer.

A loud drunken sob echoes through the small confines of the bar which is accompanied by the thud of an empty glass cup slamming against the wooden countertop of the bar.

"It isn't fair at all! Do you know how hard I've worked to get here? I've basically given up everything for this and now it's going to all disappear?" You bemoan out loud to whoever's around you, signalling to the barkeep to fill up another pint for you as you're clearly intent on accomplishing your plan of drinking away your problems.

There's a lady and her boyfriend, whose face you can't really remember or recall in any particular detail, sitting next to you on your right trying to comfort you with sympathetic coos and awkward back pats. While they're trying their best to comfort you, or as best as drunk people can, their efforts are seemingly in vain as you can only sigh in defeat at your current predicament.

Taking another swig of the freshly poured pint, you continue on your rant. "And you know, my dad is only letting me stay in Tokyo if I either have a roommate or if I'm married even if I'm happy here as is!"

The lady nods in an empathetic manner as if to say she's gone through the same thing as well, commenting, "My dad's the same way as well, he's kinda old-fashioned when it comes to stuff like this and it's awful."

"If only alcohol could cure problems like this," You muse. "My roommate and I used to come here all the time and everyone we met here is always so nice."

At your praise of the other bar patrons, there's a murmur of agreement and cheers from all around. The frothy foam of your drink has bubbled down by now but as you stare into the half-drunk glass, you're suddenly hit with an outrageous idea. "Hey, what if I get married to one of you guys tonight, right here right now?"

Boisterous laughter immediately erupts at your words. One dishevelled salary man from the other side of the bar jokingly remarks, "If you do that, you won't even be wanted back home!"

However, once the laughter dies down there's a genuine pause from everyone, including yourself, as if you all were genuinely considering carrying out this ridiculous and definitely impractical idea. Following the brief silence, the other patrons turn to their neighbours and begin to talk and discuss amongst themselves, their heads swivelling left and right in what seems to be an attempt to size up and judge the men at the bar as potential candidates.

"I'm already married to a wife I love dearly so I'm going to have to turn down that offer." Announces a middle-aged man from opposite you, with other similar comments and statements soon chiming in to eliminate themselves from the running based on a variety of different reasons.

Before the lady's boyfriend can even open his mouth to volunteer himself, she sends a withering look and an accusatory finger his way as she warns him, "Don't even think about it." At her stern warning, he quickly sinks back down into his seat.

An elderly man sighs wistfully to himself. "Ha, maybe if I was 20 years younger..." He then turns to his side, nudging the guy next to him with his elbow to get his attention before asking him. "Hey, what about you?"

You can't really see the other man's face since he's pretty much on the other side of the long table and your vision might have been slightly hazy on account of all the alcohol flowing through your system at this point, though you hear his gruff voice ring out as he shrugs his built shoulders and responds, "Me? 'M single I guess."

From all the other voices you've heard tonight, you don't recognise his, guessing that he might have been relatively silent throughout most of the conversation. Although you can't see much of him, you notice even sitting down, he's about two heads taller than those around him and his broad shoulders and well-built physique are accentuated by the tight-fitting black shirt he's wearing. God, it looks like he's basically vacuumed and sealed into that thing as the fabric shifts with every flex of his muscles.

Maybe it's the dim lighting of the izakaya but you're sure you catch a brilliant flash of green from across the table looking you up and down with vague curiosity and interest. You think to yourself, he doesn't look half bad.

Suddenly filled with a renewed sense of energy, or rather you're getting to the point on your drunkness scale where you feel comfortable enough to throw logic out of the window, you leap up from your seat and point at the man as you shout at the top of your lungs,

"Alright, you in the black shirt! Let's get married!"

After hearing your declaration, the lady starts to furiously flip the magazine in front of her until it lands on a certain page before picking it up and showing it to the others. "Hey, look! This magazine I bought has a marriage registration form at the back."

"What an amazing coincidence." Someone mutters from beside you with a few other voices soon relaying their own hums of agreement.

"We can all be witnesses! Come on and sign it!"

Chants of "Sign it." start to fill up the bar as the other patrons begin to cheer you two on like a crowd at a live stadium sports match from the sidelines of their seats. The moment your pen clatters against the floor, the crowd bursts out into celebratory shouts and cheers, with that being the extent of your memories of last night with whatever after it fading into black.

-

Now back in the present, you feel your face start to burn with a renewed sense of embarrassment as memories and small recollections of last night start to flood your mind. Any chance of even possibly denying the events of last night goes out the window as turns out, your drunk self decided that it was the perfect opportunity to apparently take a commemorative photo of the event with the marriage license at the dead of centre of it, your names unmistakably written on there in bold.

As you examine the form, still slightly gobsmacked, you spot his name next to yours. Fushiguro Toji, huh? You think quietly to yourself, his name sounds kind of nice. But before you can find yourself getting lost in thought, a husky voice snaps you back into reality.

"Now, do'ya remember?" The man, or Toji as that's what appears to be his name, quirks an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

"Yeah, but that doesn't explain how you ended up in my apartment." Eyeing him up and down, you pause for a second as you take in your equally dishevelled appearances, something suddenly clicking in your head as your overactive mind begins to draw its own conclusions about what happened after the events of the izakaya. "Oh no. Di-did we..?" You gesture frantically at the two of you, hoping that he understands what you're implying with your question.

Toji shakes his head, a slightly irritated or perhaps even amused sigh leaving his lips, you're not sure. "No. Yer insisted that you should take me home since I mentioned that I didn't really have a place to stay for the night."

A sigh of relief escapes you.

You take this time to now fully examine him since you didn't get much of a chance last night, or rather you had forgotten all about it. There's an unquestionably intimidating aura about him with his shaggy black hair, incredibly muscular physique and piercing emerald green eyes that look like they could kill a man where he stood with a single stare. His all-black clothing and what appears to be a vertical scar situated on the right corner of his lips do him no favours to make him look less like a gangster straight out of an action movie.

Although there aren't the typical tell-tale signs of ageing on him like obvious wrinkles or a head of grey hairs, there's a faint imprint of more permanent creases starting to form in the middle of his brows and if you look closely enough, you might even notice some small sprinkles of white starting to pop up amidst the rest of his raven locks. This all points to the fact that he's definitely older than you but you're unsure by how much from your initial assessment of him, probably at least ten years older than give or take.

Though, besides this outright menacing factor to him, you can't help but admit that he's also strikingly handsome in a rugged way. You realise that you might have been caught staring at him for too long when he clears his throat and gives you a pointed glance with those sharp green eyes. Just having his gaze on you is enough to send a tingling sensation down your spine.

Deciding to brush it off, he huffs to himself as he leans his weight against the white walls of your apartment. "It's probably too late to cancel it since we already signed and submitted it last night so the only option we have now is to divorce."

He fishes around in the pockets of his pants and produces an already half-empty and slightly crumpled cigarette box. Before taking one out, he turns towards you and silently asks for your permission with a tilt of his head. You nod at him, expecting him to crank open one of your windows to smoke but instead, he walks towards your kitchen and turns on your kitchen hood. Curiously, you follow behind him and see him use a dingy lighter to light up the cigarette, the pale glow of the flame illuminating the harsh lines of his features, as he takes a deep puff of it before blowing the smoke up the hood.

So he's a kitchen smoker, huh? Obviously, you want to know how he's developed this peculiar habit but you decide to bite your tongue for now as there are more pressing issues on hand such as the undeniable elephant in the room.

There's a brief moment of silence before Toji starts speaking again. "Y'know, I kinda feel bad for last night 'cause you're going to be a divorcee so young."

"Hey! I'm not that young you know, Ossan!" You protest in return, crossing your arms over your chest in a slightly childish display of annoyance. That earns you what sounds like a breathy laugh from him as one corner of his lips tilts upwards in a somewhat crooked manner.

"Oh yeah? Then how old are ya?" There's a teasing lilt to his voice, almost as if he's slightly amused by your antics.

You huff. "22. What about you?"

"You really can't remember much from last night huh? I'm 38." If he's 38 then that means there's a 16-year age difference between you two. Not the worst-case scenario that could happen when it comes to marrying a complete stranger by accident, you think to yourself.

It seems that your apparent lack of reaction, only giving out a half-hearted hmm, to finding out his age is surprising to him. If he was going to be honest, he wasn't ruling out that you might have started bolting out of your apartment at the mention of it and in that case, he wouldn't blame you.

You state, "Besides, you're not the only one to blame here. It's on me as well since we both signed it. So don't feel bad. We'll get it taken care of as soon as possible." You send a reassuring smile his way, waving off his concerns with an easy-going wave of your wrist. For some reason, he feels like he might even believe your assurance for a second.

Much to your public embarrassment your stomach starts to grumble loudly with what some might say is impeccable comedic timing. "Or well, as soon as I get some food." You comment bashfully, your previously carefree attitude fading away relatively quickly as a new priority has emerged.

As you make the move towards your fridge, you look over at him from your shoulder as you ask, "Oh right. Do you want something as well? I don't really cook meals that often so all I have in my kitchen is basically just baking ingredients."

Toji does a quick look around the kitchen, examining the clear state of mess and disarray that it's in and scoffs offhandedly to himself. "Didn't realise you could call this mess a kitchen."

"In my defence, my roommate used to do all the cooking and cleaning whilst I mainly covered the bills." You point back at him, a wooden spoon in hand as you wave at him warningly.

"What happened to them then?"

"Oh, you know, suddenly deciding to move closer to work even though your roommate has already paid the lease for the year for two people and stuff like that." There's an edge of annoyance to your tone, clearly, you're still annoyed at your roommate for putting you in this predicament, but Toji decides not to comment on it.

After watching you struggle to turn on your gas stove for what seems to be like the tenth time in the span of 2 minutes, a loud sigh of exasperation escapes him as he places his calloused hand on top of yours. stopping you in your tracks. "Come on, just let me do it." He states. As he moves closer to the kitchen counter, his body is positioned so close to your left side that you can feel the heat radiating off of him.

He starts to busy himself with various ingredients as it seems that he's now begrudgingly taken over cooking duties from you, no protests from your side by the way. Before you go to take your seat at the kitchen table, you hear him mumble under his breath. "Can't believe you have the time to go out and get drunk and not even to clean your place."

"Hey." You turn around to face him once again, your voice stern. "You don't know me, alright? I wanna stay in Tokyo because I just got my dream job and I'm not planning on leaving any time soon."

"...Yer job? What d'you do?"

"I'm a baker. Have you ever heard of the bakery, Pierre Hermé?"

He pauses, bringing a finger up to his chin as if deep in thought. "Think 've walked past it a few times. Why?"

There's a renewed sense of excitement to you, passion very much evident in both your words and expression as you launch into an animated spiel at his question. "It's one of the top bakeries in Tokyo and I've spent my whole life working towards being able to get a job there." You look out at the window, quietly contemplating and contrasting the crowded and bustling streets and skyline of Tokyo with the sleepy and relatively isolated atmosphere of your hometown.

"Back in my home town, there isn't really much opportunity to work somewhere like this, especially since it's a foreign bakery specialising in French pastries so this is basically my only chance to fulfil my dreams." You can't help but let a wistful sigh leave your lips, thinking about how hard you've fought to get to this point now. Unbeknownst to you, Toji suddenly sits up straighter, his back pressed against the cool ceramic countertops as he stares at you, seemingly studying you in a new light after your words. Before you can realise it though, he quickly adverts his gaze elsewhere, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"What about you?" You ask him, a sense of interest clearly present in your voice. For someone like him, you don't even know where to really begin when it comes to guessing what a guy like him could do for a living as it could range from semi-realistic to wildly fantastical like straight out of a TV show.

"...I'm a bodyguard for hire." Compared to you though, his tone is devoid of the same energy and passion present in yours with him even pausing slightly before answering, as if he was hesitant to reveal this aspect about himself.

"Wow, that's cool." There's a small sense of awe at his response. Being a bodyguard would definitely explain that muscular physique of his, you remark quietly to yourself.

A tsk sound escapes him at your comment, shrugging it off with his shoulders as he turns to the side. "All I care is that it pays well. Nothin' more."

You deflate a little at his words. To you, he sounds more begrudging than anything and you think that there's probably a story behind that as well, like many other things about him like that lip scar of his, but you choose to avoid prodding him even further as well in his defence, you've technically just met each other last night. All of a sudden, you're hit with an idea, a crazy idea just like last night, but this time now sober, and it might just be crazy enough to work or you two might just be desperate enough to make it work. You clear your throat before you call out to him.

"Hey, Ossan." Toji looks back at you, and clearly, you've managed to pique his curiosity by the amused expression present on his face. If you were a lesser person, you might have shrunk under the intensity of his gaze so intently trained on you but you don't, there's too much of your future dream riding on this now for you to back out before anything could have even begun. You look into his eyes, maintaining eye contact before you continue. "I have an idea, actually, it's more of a request. The next time I go back home to visit my parents, can you come with me as my husband? If I'm married to someone who lives in Tokyo, my dad can't tell me to move home anymore and he'll definitely believe that it's real once he sees your name on the official family register."

Before he can even say no or offer any protest of his own, you add, "Plus, this deal will be beneficial to you as well since you'll get a place to live until you get your own apartment. So, let's hold off on the divorce until then."

There's a hopeful look in your eyes with a look of determination painted on your features. Evidently, even without his input, it appears to be that you're dead set on this plan if it means you get the slightest chance of staying here. He contemplates a future where he says no, imagining another week of being forced to couch surf on his boss's stale office couch and living in a constant state of uncertainty for who knows how long. Sure, it's not like he's so sure about what going to happen now but at least if he agrees to this, he's not alone in dealing with whatever uncertainty is thrown his way.

He shakes his head, stubbing out the burnt end of his cigarette in the sink and takes your hand in his.

"Alright fine, yer got a deal."

taglist: @catobsessedlady , @aluvrina , @thulhu , @sn1perz , @meowmeew , @hprnx , @r0ckst4rjk , @dianakisses , @lashaemorow , @cinnabooonn

[lordprettyflackotara]

WhoGoesThere? || eyeless jack

tw: jack and reader are depressed but thats about it ngl

Jack was tired of his life.

Truly, wondering hopelessly day after day was becoming tiring. Patching up the proxies, eating a few organs, rinse and repeat. He had no diversity, no variety to his life. The most exciting thing was when Jeff decided to bombarde him with his rant of the day. Jack despised those rants, but at least it was something different.

It was what led him to wonder aimlessly through the woods, his hands shoved in his pockets and his head held low. It had been many years since he had become this way, the demon everyone knew him to be. As time trudged on he wondered if him coming back to life was a mistake. The leafs crunched beneath his boot, his shoulders low as he stepped over a few random rocks.

In the night he heard an owl hooting, accompanied by the lone coyotes howl in the distance. Jack wouldn’t have normally thought anything of it, if it hadn’t been for the sudden race of a heartbeat. It was too loud to be a small creature, chipmunks and rabbits so easy to rile up. It sounded much larger. Much more human like. His ears twitched as he went in the direction of the sound, his curiosity distracting him from his depressive thoughts. The heartbeat only grew longer as he followed it, the owner seemingly unmoving.

It was then he heard a familiar growl of a coyote, the smell of fear flooding his nostrils. In a small clearing he spotted you, your small figure curled up in a ball against a tree as a coyote prepared itself to launch into an attack. Terror was reeking off of you, something in between your fingers and your eyes widened at the animal in front of you. Truthfully it was none of Jacks business, he never interfered with the circle of life. But your heartbeat sounded so foreign. Unlike anything he had ever heard before.

Involuntarily a low growl rumbled in the back of Jacks throat, his razor sharp teeth gritting together. The coyotes head snapped to him, the animals nocturnal vision providing him a clear picture of the demon. Jack knew he was at the top of the food chain. All the animals he had ever run into during his forest trips knew this as well. None of them dared to even be around Jack, the fear of what he may do driving them away. Once the coyote realized its prey had been stolen, it dashed off into the night without a second thought.

“Who goes there?”

Your question was bold, considering Jack knew his human like figure was concealed in the shadows. You had only heard a growl, yet you spoke to Jack like you knew what he was. “Friend or foe?” You asked. Jack furrowed his eyebrows. He was in the twenty first century, right? "Friend," He replied plainly. His deep voice caught you off guard, causing you to jump to your feet. "Show yourself," You instructed. For such a short thing you sure did have a lot of nerve ordering anyone around, nevertheless Jack. He hadn't interacted with regular humans in a long time. He was curious how this would go.

Against his better judgment, he walked into the clearing. The only source of light was the dim moonlight, which only truly revealed his human like stature and eerie mask. Jack walked in front of you, towering over you as he looked down at you. Soft skin, doe eyes, soft lips.... You looked like a fragile little thing. What were you doing out here? "How did you do it?" You asked, clearly puzzled. Jack stood motionless, afraid you'd see his ash gray hands and run. "Do what?" Jack questioned. You stared up at him curiously, your mind trying to make sense of the black tar dripping down his eye sockets on his mask. It was so lifelike. How was that possible?

"That growl... You sounded like an animal," You said slowly. Jack looked human enough to you. You supposed. Chestnut hair sat on his head, peaking out through the hood that concealed him. He was freakishly tall, unlike anyone you had ever seen before. "Odd talent I have," Jack lied, shrugging his shoulders. You were clearly puzzled, but you couldn't make sense of the situation to begin with. "Why are you out here? You could have seriously gotten hurt," Jack scolded. You rolled your eyes, holding up a joint. Jack only recognized what it was because of Ben's bad habits.

"My college isn't too much of a fan of this. They'd rather me drink myself to death," You answered. Jack tilted his head to the side curiously. He had never bothered inspecting the plant this close up before. "Do you want to smoke it with me? I kind of owe you for saving my life," You offered. If you were being honest with yourself you were lonely, that being the motivation for why you hauled yourself into the forest late at night. "I have never partaken in this before," Jack told you. You gave him a small smile. This guy couldn't be too bad right? He did just save your life. "Everyone starts somewhere. Why don't you join me?" You proposed. You sat down in your original spot, leaning your back against the oak tree.

Hesitantly Jack joined you, sitting cross legged beside you. "Sure," Jack mumbled. He watched you dig in your backpack, searching for a lighter. He noticed the Harvard symbol stitched into the back pocket. "You go to Harvard?" He asked, the question leaving his lips before he meant it to. You seemed unfazed as you continued to rummage through your mess of a backpack. "Yeah. Why?" You asked. Jack sat there dumbfounded, flashes of his previous human life flashing through his memory. He couldn't remember too much of his mortal life, but he remembered going to Harvard University. "I just used to go there, that's all," He said. You unhappily grabbed your backpack by the bottom, dumping its contents onto the ground.

"Pretty shit isn't it? It's not worth what everyone hypes it up to be," You spat harshly. Jack could sense your bitterness, but then he felt his heart throb as he yearned to be in your position. "What are you majoring in?" Jack asked, changing the subject. You grabbed the lighter, quickly igniting the joint in your hand. "Medical field. I want to be a doctor," You answered. Jack froze, his breath came to a screeching halt. He watched as you inhaled the joint, the small orange flame illuminating your features. "What did you major in?" You asked. You held out the joint to him, Jack temporarily unmoving.

He didn't think about you seeing his skin. Maybe you wouldn't notice if he acted normal. "Uh medical field, I wanted to be a surgeon," Jack told you. He reached out slowly, his hands much larger than yours. He took the joint between his fingers, bringing it up to his mask. Unsurely he lifted up the bottom half, placing the joint in between his lips. "Wanted to be? What happened? If its seeing guts don't worry, lots of kids dropped out once we had to study a surgery live," You say, your eyes flickering to his hands. You noted his odd skin color, the pigment unfazing you. "Life, I guess," He mumbled. He inhaled sharply, coughing as the smoke rounded his lungs. The smoke dispersed into the night air, his hand flying to his mask to cover himself.

"Hey don't do that, you won't be able to breathe as well," You intervened. You grabbed his large hand, your small fingers wrapping around his. Your skin was so warm to the touch, Jack could almost hear your pulse through your touch. "The color of my skin doesn't bother you?" Jack asked in between coughs. His chest began to hurt, his other hand crutching his hoodie. You patted his back, shaking your head. "Argyria, right? Nothing to be ashamed about. Doesn't matter to me," You answered. Jack managed to clear his throat, pulling hand away from yours. He handed the joint back to you, your fingertips brushing against his skin as you took it from him.

Of course you thought he had a skin condition. A logical person couldn't even begin to comprehend what Jack truly was. He noticed the way the weed had affected his senses, the demon leaning back against the tree beside you. "Nice to meet you by the way, i'm y/n," You said. Jack refrained from smiling, afraid you'd see his rows of razor sharp teeth. "I'm Jack, but usually everyone calls me EJ," He answered. He realized you may ask what EJ stood for, heat flushing his cheeks. Instead you handed the joint back to him. "I like the name Jack, suits you," You told him. Jack couldn't believe what he was hearing, your comment more flattering to him than you would ever know.

This time Jack was more confident, bringing the joint to his lips. He inhaled deeply. relaxing as the smoke circulated around his lungs. "There you go, you're getting the hang of it," You say proudly. Playfully you elbowed his arm, causing Jack to jump slightly from the unpredicted contact. Your eyes had fluttered closed, the weed extracting every ounce of tiredness you had. Jack allowed himself to smile. "Do you come here often?" Jack asked. You giggled, your smile as bright as a thousand suns. "Are you hitting on me?" You asked through your fit of giggles. Heat dashed across Jack's cheeks as he exhaled, your comment making him cough. "What? No! I was just starting conversation," Jack rambled. You could practically feel his embarrassment.

"Relax Jack i'm fucking with you," You chuckled. You took the joint from his fingers, placing it back in between your lips. Jack felt relief. He thought maybe he had been depraved of social interaction for too long to engage in a standard conversation. He knew what you both were doing now was considered small talk, but it meant the absolute world to him you were even chatting with him. "To answer your question I do. Mostly when my shitty roommate invites her clan of frat boys over," You say, a hint of annoyance lacing your tone. Jack raised his eyebrows, watching your cloud of smoke evaporate into the night. It was brushed away by a small breeze in an instant. "I assume they aren't your cup of tea?" Jack proposed. You nodded, your eyes still shut. You handed the joint back to Jack, the effects of the miracle plant putting him at ease.

He made a mental note to accept Ben's invitation to smoking more often.

"One of them hit on me my first year. He never got over the rejection I think. There's rumors still floating around two years later I had a threesome with him and another dipshit," You explained. Jack inhaled, his ears twitching at the sound of the paper crinkling from the flame. "To answer your question, no, I absolutely did not have a threesome. My predicament is actually far worse," You mumbled the last part. You had peaked Jack's curiosity, but he chose to keep his questions to himself. "What do they do while you're gone?" Jack asked, trying to keep the conversation going. He focused on the milky smoke, exhaling it through his nostrils. He allowed himself to grin, your eyes still closed.

"They probably gangbang her for all I know," You grumbled. Jack felt unusually heavy, like he could stay in that spot with you forever. Tucked away from the world and curled up under an oak tree. As he took another hit he felt something unusual. Something he couldn't recall he had felt before. Your head had fallen onto his shoulder, your body curled up into a ball as you tucked your knees into your chest. "Do you want the rest of this?" Jack asked, holding the joint out to you. He could hear your breathing becoming heavier, your consciousness drifting away. "Have it. Just let me stay like this for one more moment," You say, nuzzling your cheek against his shoulder.

Jack swallowed, his nerves getting the best of him. He could hear your chest rise and fall. Then your heartbeat slowed. You had fallen asleep. On his shoulder. Willingly. Shakily Jack returned the joint to his lips, realizing he was going to need all of the comfort he could get. How could he allow this? What if he woke up hungry? He looked over at you, tossing the ashes of the joint aside and readjusting his mask. On the other hand, you looked so peaceful. How could Jack disrupt that? The night wind blew past of the two of you, a few stray strands of your hair brushing against your face. He watched your nose crinkle as they tickled your skin.

Unsurely he brought his hand to your face, tucking the strands of your hair behind your ear. As your face fell into a perfect state of content, Jack came to the executive decision he would stay right here to protect you until morning came. It wasn't long before the weed evoked his own tiredness, slumber taking over him as it did you.

[03jyh23]

— facing the fear || choi jongho (part three of finding our way back series)

<series masterlist> <next>

ex-boyfriend!idol!jongho x ex-girlfriend!single-mom!reader

synopsis: five years have passed since jongho last saw you. your lives have taken drastically different paths, with jongho achieving fame and you focusing on raising your daughter, nari, in quiet anonymity. when jongho discovers he has a daughter, he's determined to be a part of her life.

genre: a slice of life, romance, fluff, some angst

trigger warnings: unplanned pregnancy, illegitimate child, single parenthood, mature language, sex mentioned (this chapter contains an open discussion about heterosexual and homosexual relationships)

words: 11.4k

reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

disclaimer: i believe that all my readers are open-minded individuals who support lgbt people and are not prejudiced in any way. i identify as a queer person, which is why i decided to include certain topics in the dialogues of this chapter. inclusivity is important to me, and i would like to be able to include such themes in my fanfictions without worry. before this chapter, i want to remind you once again that this is a work of fiction and in no way represents the true characteristics of the members of ateez.

— hi there!!! AM I SPOILING YOU GUYS WITH ANOTHER PART IN A SPAN OF 5 DAYS? ARE YOU HAPPY? thank you so much for the love i received! i can't describe how much it means to me and how happy i am to see you all enjoying my writing. i hope you will like this part as i'm well aware most of you have been waiting for what this chapter includes. by the way, i'm sorry if i confused the dorm arrangement! (according to my knowledge 1 jongho, hongjoong, wooyoung; 2 mingi, san, seonghwa; 3 yunho, yeosang) since my finals are almost over, i plan to post once a week, preferably on fridays(?). oh, also! please let me know how you guys feel about using korean phrases/words such as hyung/ya/maknae in fanfictions. i tried not to include it but sometimes it just feels weird not to.

love, monika ♡

taglist: @seventeenthingsblr @DALSUWAHA @treehouse-mouse @ateez-atiny380 @sleepy-kat-here @sndeoki @bomi-ja @dearinsaniiiity @vixensss @all-fandoms-rise @finnydraws @hyuckiesgf ♡

(if by any chance i forgot to add someone please remind me once again)

if you wish to be tagged let me know here

Jongho made his way back to the dorm, the small purple box Nari had entrusted him with gripped firmly in his hand. The quiet of the dorm seemed to amplify his growing anxiety. He knew he had to talk to the boys about Nari, but his day had already been filled with so many emotions. He felt a headache coming on, his head heavy with the weight of it all. Maybe it’s better if he waits a bit before talking to them. He took off his shoes and jacket and approached the kitchen. 

Once in the kitchen, he decided to make a cup of tea, hoping the warm drink would help with his headache and calm his swirling thoughts. He picked up the small purple box that Nari had given him, his fingers tracing the edges gently. A small smile began to play on his lips as he held the box, the weight of it in his hands bringing back the memory of the little girl who had given it to him. He was reminiscing about the way he held Nari in his arms, her little head on his shoulder and big eyes carefully watching him. He already loved holding her, feeling her small body against his. It was the first time he held his daughter in his arms, and he wished he could do it more often from now on. He didn't want to leave, but he knew better than to put his selfish desires first. It was strange, this sudden realization of himself as a father. The idea was still so new, so foreign to him. He'd spent his whole life thinking of himself as an individual, but now he was a part of something bigger, something more important than himself. He was a father. And, despite the fear and uncertainty that came with that thought, he also felt a sense of pride and responsibility. He was a father, and he was going to do everything in his power to be a good one. 

However, the happiness was fading due to one name constantly reappearing in his mind—Hyunwoo. Jongho's lingering thoughts about Hyunwoo began to tarnish his newfound joy, creating an undercurrent of unease that he couldn't shake off. Try as he might to focus on the positive, the thought of Hyunwoo continued to gnaw at him, threatening to overshadow the happiness he had found in Nari.

The sound of the kettle whistling brought him back to the present, and he quickly turned off the stove. He poured the steaming water into his cup; the scent of the tea leaves slowly diffusing into the air. As he sipped his tea, he found his mind drifting back to the day's events. Despite the uncertainty and the lingering questions, he couldn't help but feel a sense of hope. He was determined to face whatever challenges lay ahead, for the sake of his relationship with Nari and, possibly, with you. 

Jongho picked up his cup in one hand and the small purple box of cookies in the other and began walking towards his room. Just as he was about to open the door, he heard his name being called out. 

"Jongho, you're back?" A familiar voice echoed through the dorm. It was Hongjoong, his voice carrying from the confines of his room. The older boy's voice was soft, laced with a hint of concern. 

"Yeah, it's me," Jongho answered as he followed to Hongjoong's room. When he entered the room, he found Hongjoong sitting at his desk, as usual, engrossed in his work. The room was dimly lit, with only a small reading lamp casting long shadows on the walls. Jongho paused at the doorway, watching Hongjoong for a moment. His gaze softened at the sight of the older boy, his usually vibrant eyes now filled with a quiet seriousness, 

"Is everything okay?" Hongjoong asked, lifting his gaze from the laptop to meet Jongho's. 

Jongho nodded, slowly, "Yeah, just a lot on my mind." He knew he couldn't avoid the conversation any longer. 

"Does it have anything to do with Y/N?" Hongjoong asked as he closed his laptop and put his headphones back on the desk. 

Jongho hesitated for a moment before answering. "Yes," he finally admitted, his gaze dropping to the cup of tea in his hands. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he knew he had to have. Hongjoong's expression turned serious, and he nodded for Jongho to continue. He knew that when Jongho was ready to talk, he would. 

Just as Jongho was about to speak, his gaze fell on the small, purple box he had almost forgotten about. "This," he held up the box, "is from Nari." His voice was soft, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "She wanted me to give it to Wooyoung. It's cookies she made." 

Hongjoong's eyes widened in surprise, "That's really sweet of her," he said, a fond smile on his face. "Wooyoung will definitely appreciate this." 

Jongho nodded in agreement, "Yes, he will" he replied, a hint of sadness in his voice. It was clear that he was still lost in his thoughts, the earlier conversation with you clearly weighing on his mind. 

"I know you held a company meeting today," Hongjoong started, he leaned over to pat a chair next to him, a clear invitation for Jongho to sit down. His eyes held a glimmer of understanding, as if he knew that Jongho had a lot on his mind and was ready to lend a listening ear. Jongho took the invitation and sat down, setting the cookie box aside. Hongjoong reached out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Wanna talk about it?" he asked gently, his eyes filled with concern. 

Jongho stared at him for a moment, then let out a sigh. "Yes," Jongho confessed, finally releasing the words he had held back. "I need to talk about it. I need to talk about Y/N, about Nari... and about a man named Hyunwoo." His voice was heavy with a mixture of confusion, longing, and a trace of fear. 

Hongjoong's eyebrows furrowed at this. "Hyunwoo?" he echoed, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Who is he?" 

Jongho sighed, his gaze dropping to his hands. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "But he's close to Y/N. I saw a text message from him on her phone. He referred to her as 'love'." His voice faltered slightly at the end, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Hongjoong was silent for a moment, processing the information. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, "Have you talked to Y/N about this?" 

Jongho shook his head. "I didn't get the chance. And even if I did... I wouldn't know what to say." He looked up, meeting Hongjoong's gaze. "What do I even ask? How do I bring this up without sounding like I invaded her privacy?" 

Hongjoong thought for a moment. "Firstly," he began, "you didn't invade her privacy. You found her phone and saw the message. It's not like you went snooping through her texts." He paused, giving Jongho a reassuring look. "And as for what to ask... Just be honest. Tell her what you saw and how it made you feel. It's better to talk things out than to let your thoughts spiral." 

"I don't think it's a good idea to talk to her about how I feel," Jongho said, his hands tapping nervously on the table. "She's reminding me all the time that we are doing this for Nari, yet I can't help but feel all of these emotions when I am with her." 

"What emotions?" Hongjoong asked. 

Jongho paused, searching for the right words. "I don't know... I feel... confused, I guess? And I can't help but feel a bit jealous when I think about this Hyunwoo guy. And there's more... I feel a connection with her, it's like something’s drawing me towards her. It's hard to explain." 

Hongjoong nodded, understanding in his eyes. "It sounds like you're still in love with her, Jongho." 

"How can I be in love with her? It's been five years," Jongho almost whispered, emotion threatening to overwhelm him any moment now. 

"Love doesn't just disappear, Jongho," Hongjoong replied, his voice filled with understanding. "It can lie dormant, waiting for the right moment to resurface. And seeing Y/N again, meeting your daughter... those are powerful triggers." 

The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. Jongho didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the floor. Finally, he looked up at Hongjoong, his expression vulnerable. "Maybe I am. But what does it matter? She has someone else in her life. And even if she didn't, it doesn't mean she feels the same about me." 

"Jongho," Hongjoong began, his voice steady and calm. "Feelings are complicated. It's completely normal to feel the way you do. You and Y/N have a history together and now you have a daughter. It's natural to have feelings for her." 

"But what if she doesn't feel the same? What if I'm just holding onto something that isn't there anymore?" Jongho asked, his voice heavy with worry. 

"Then you'll deal with it," Hongjoong stated simply. "You can't control how she feels, just like she can't control how you feel. All you can do is be honest with her and with yourself." Jongho nodded, taking in Hongjoong's words. His heart was still heavy, and the fear of the unknown still loomed over him, but he felt a bit calmer, a bit more ready to face whatever was to come. "Jongho, you don't have to choose between focusing on Nari or pursuing your feelings towards Y/N," Hongjoong continued. "I am not a father but…" At these words, Jongho chuckled, looking at Hongjoong. The older boy had always been like a father figure in the band, always looking out for the others and guiding them when they needed it. Hongjoong laughed softly, catching on to Jongho's thoughts. "I mean, I'm not a real father," he added, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "But I believe that if you want to create a family with Y/N, it can't be done in separate stages," Hongjoong continued, his words filled with understanding. "You can't simply discard your emotions and solely concentrate on being a father. It's not that straightforward. These two aspects are linked and need to grow together. You're not just a father, Jongho, but a man who still loves the mother of his child. And that's okay. It's okay to allow yourself to feel this way, to explore these feelings while also focusing on being a father to Nari. It's okay to be human and not have everything figured out. This journey you're on, it's not just about parenting, but also about healing and growing as a person. And part of that growth involves acknowledging and understanding your feelings for Y/N. So, don't try to separate the two. Let them happen at the same time." Hongjoong's words hung in the air, heavy with truth and understanding. Jongho felt a strange mix of relief and fear. The idea of allowing himself to experience these complex emotions was daunting, yet it also felt right. He understood that he had been trying to separate his feelings, handling one thing at a time to keep control. But life, as he was quickly learning, was rarely that simple. 

Jongho nodded, acknowledging the truth in Hongjoong's words. He felt a sense of gratitude towards his friend for offering a perspective he hadn't considered. "You're right, Hongjoong," he admitted, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I guess I've been trying to simplify things, to make this all more manageable. But I can't ignore my feelings for Y/N. And I won't." He paused, letting the words sink in. "I need to confront this, for Nari, for Y/N, and for myself." 

Hongjoong returned the smile, his eyes reflecting a sense of understanding and support. "That's the spirit, Jongho," he encouraged. "Facing our emotions may be scary, but it's the only way to truly understand ourselves and move forward. And remember, you don't have to do this alone. I'm here for you." 

Jongho felt a surge of gratitude. He was lucky to have such a supportive friend. He knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but with Hongjoong’s support, he felt ready to face whatever came his way. 

Feeling lighter than before, Jongho allowed a genuine smile to reach his eyes. In a playful tone, he joked, "I aspire to be as good of a father as you, Hongjoong." This comment earned him a small punch in the arm from his friend, who couldn't help but break into laughter at the compliment. 

Their moment of levity was suddenly interrupted by Wooyoung's voice. "Who wants to be a father?" the boy, who had just woken up from his nap, asked. Standing in the doorway with tousled hair, he looked at them with curiosity. 

Caught off guard, Jongho and Hongjoong exchanged a glance, both momentarily at a loss for words. "For how long have you been listening?" Jongho asked, his playful demeanor from a minute ago long gone. 

"Well, it's just that San woke up and wanted me to grab him a glass of water, and I just left my room," Wooyoung yawned. 

Hongjoong gave Wooyoung a quick glance before returning his gaze to Jongho. "We were just talking about...things," he said vaguely, not wanting to delve into the details. Jongho nodded, appreciating Hongjoong's discretion. 

"So, San is here?'' Jongho asked, his gaze shifting briefly towards the direction of Wooyoung's room. There was a hint of curiosity in his voice, a subtle shift in the atmosphere as he awaited Wooyoung's response. 

"Yeah, he is," Wooyoung answered, rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes. He stifled a yawn before continuing, "He couldn't sleep well last night, so he came over earlier to catch up on some sleep."  

Jongho nodded in understanding then turned to Hongjoong, seeking his opinion. "Should we just call the rest of the guys then?" he asked, his eyes searching for reassurance in Hongjoong's gaze. 

Hongjoong considered the suggestion for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I think it's time," he agreed, a sense of determination in his voice. "We should all be on the same page about this." 

"What are you guys even talking about?" Wooyoung asked, clearly confused, as he leaned into the doorframe. His eyes flicked between Hongjoong and Jongho, searching for answers in their serious expressions. But before Jongho could open his mouth to explain, a loud voice from Wooyoung's bedroom caught them all off guard. 

"Ya! Wooyoung, do you want me to die of thirst?" San's voice rang out, filled with exaggerated distress. The three of them turned towards the direction of the voice, a look of amusement passing between them.  

"Quit being so dramatic!" Wooyoung shouted back, rolling his eyes but not able to hide the smile tugging at his lips. He then pushed himself off from the doorframe and finally made his way into the kitchen. 

"I thought separating those two would earn me some peace," Hongjoong sighed, his gaze following Wooyoung as he made his way into the kitchen, "But what was the point of dividing us into three different dorms when San is always here." He shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Despite his grumbles, it was clear that he wouldn't have it any other way. The bond they all shared was unbreakable, and no matter how often they bickered or teased each other, at the end of the day, they were family. "I'll send a message to the rest of the boys," Hongjoong offered, pushing himself up from his chair and stretching his arms above his head. He looked at Jongho, a determined expression on his face. "In the meantime, you should go and grab some food for us. We'll need something to keep us going while we discuss everything." He paused, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ever since Yeosang moved in with Yunho, I swear those two live off air and video games. I bet they haven't had a proper meal in days." He shook his head in mock disapproval, his tone dripping with dramatic exaggeration. 

Jongho chuckled at Hongjoong's dramatic performance, acknowledging the truth in his words. "Alright, I'll pick up some food. Any preferences?" he asked, standing up from the chair. 

"How about something spicy? The spicier the better," Hongjoong suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I bet that would wake San and Wooyoung up pretty quickly." 

Jongho laughed, shaking his head at Hongjoong's antics. "Spicy it is then," he conceded, pulling on his jacket. As he was about to leave, he paused at the door, turning to look at Hongjoong. "Thanks, hyung," he said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. 

Hongjoong simply nodded, a warm smile on his face. "Anytime, Jongho. We're all in this together, remember?" 

Jongho smiled at his older friend and nodded, "I'll remember that" he said, his voice filled with gratitude. 

"Hey, San! Rise and shine, sleep is for the weak!" Hongjoong shouted with a mischievous grin as he entered Wooyoung's bedroom. 

Jongho smiled to himself, pulling on his jacket. His conversation with Hongjoong had left him feeling a little lighter, a little more hopeful. The road ahead was still unclear, filled with unknowns and potential challenges, but he was not alone. He had his friends, his brothers, standing by his side, ready to face whatever came their way together. 

Just as Jongho stepped out of the dorm, he fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed your number. As he made his way towards the nearest restaurant, he could feel the nervous energy coursing through him. He still hadn't fully processed everything that had happened, and despite the reassurance he got from Hongjoong, he was still filled with a sense of unease. He wanted to call you to discuss the decision he had made about telling the boys about his newfound fatherhood. He felt he needed your consent to move forward with this, and he was hoping to get your approval. He waited for you to pick up, each ring echoing in his ears, amplifying his anxiety. Just when he was about to end the call, assuming you were busy, he heard the phone being picked up. However, instead of your voice, he was met with a male voice, catching him off guard. 

Jongho's heart skipped a beat as the unfamiliar voice echoed in his phone. "Hello, Y/N's phone. Who is this?" the voice asked, a hint of curiosity lacing his tone. 

Jongho cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. "This is Jongho," he replied, his mind racing as he tried to figure out who the person on the other end of the line was. 

"Oh, Jongho? Y/N's mentioned you," the voice replied, sounding slightly surprised. "This is Hyunwoo." 

The mention of the name sent a shock through Jongho. This was the Hyunwoo he'd been worrying about, the one whose name had been haunting him. He struggled to find his voice, the shock leaving him momentarily speechless. 

"Is Y/N there?" Jongho finally managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"Uh, she's in the shower. Can I take a message?" Hyunwoo offered, seemingly oblivious to the tension on Jongho's end. 

"No, it's... it's okay. I'll call back later," Jongho replied, quickly hanging up the phone. His mind was a whirlwind, the implications of the call leaving him breathless. He stood there for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts, before continuing his walk to the restaurant. 

Jongho tried his hardest to shove the thoughts to the back of his mind, but they kept creeping up, filling his thoughts as he mindlessly entered the restaurant. He ordered the food, his eyes glued to the menu but his mind somewhere else entirely—on Hyunwoo, on you, on Nari. The anxiety was clawing at him, the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach growing with each passing minute. He couldn't help but imagine Hyunwoo there with you, spending time with Nari while he was away. These thoughts consumed him as he waited to pick up his order, his heart pounding against his chest in rhythm with the ticking of the clock. 

Finally, he left the restaurant, his hands clutching the bags of food tighter than necessary. He was about to enter his building, his mind still swirling with what-ifs and worst-case scenarios, when his phone rang. It was you, calling him back. He felt his heart skip a beat, the sight of your name on his screen both comforting and terrifying. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the conversation that was about to follow. 

Just before he picked up the call, he steeled himself, reminding himself that he needed to focus on the bigger picture. With a deep breath, he answered the call, his voice steady as he greeted, "Hello, Y/N." 

"Jongho you called earlier? I just got out of the shower. Is everything okay?" Your voice echoed in his ear, a mixture of concern and surprise. 

"Yeah, everything is fine," Jongho quickly reassured you. He paused, trying to figure out how to approach the conversation. "I just... I wanted to talk to you about something." He could hear the hesitation in his own voice, his mind racing with thoughts of what your reaction might be. 

"Sure, what's up?" You asked, your voice filled with curiosity. Your calm demeanor helped Jongho to steady himself. He realized he needed to be honest, to talk to you about his feelings and the decisions he had made. 

"I... I've decided to talk to the boys about... about Nari," Jongho confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. He held his breath, waiting for your response, the silence on the other end of the line amplifying his anxiety. 

After what felt like forever, you finally responded. Your voice, when you spoke, was soft, filled with understanding. "Jongho... I think that's a good idea," you reassured him, your words lifting a weight off his shoulders. "They are your family. They deserve to know." 

Jongho let out a sigh of relief, his heart pounding in his chest. "Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, gratitude flooding his voice.  With your consent, he felt ready to face whatever came next. Yet, Jongho was dying to ask about Hyunwoo, to understand who he was in relation to you. Just as he was about to give in to the urge to know, he heard Hyunwoo's voice in the distance, calling your name. His heart skipped a beat, the sound of Hyunwoo's voice serving as a stark reminder of the complexity of the situation. 

"Love, are you still on the phone?" Hyunwoo's voice echoed in the background, his tone casual and familiar. The sound of his voice sent a sharp pang of jealousy through Jongho, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions that he struggled to keep at bay. 

"Who was that?" Jongho found himself asking, the words escaping his lips before he had a chance to fully process them. He could hear the curiosity lacing his tone, a direct reflection of the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in his mind. However, as soon as the question left his mouth, he immediately regretted it. He could feel a sudden rush of apprehension washing over him, a stark reminder of the delicate line he was treading. This was not a conversation he wanted to have over the phone, and certainly not one he wanted to rush into. Knowing that he had stepped into a territory that he was not ready to traverse, Jongho quickly tried to deflect his previous question. "Actually, never mind. It's not important," he said, his voice filled with a forced casualness. He didn't want to pry into your personal life, at least not yet, not when he himself was still trying to figure out his own feelings. 

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, making Jongho's heart pound in his chest. He could almost feel the wheels turning in your head, deciding how to respond to his sudden withdrawal. "Jongho, it's okay," you finally spoke, your voice gentle, almost soothing. "Hyunwoo is..." 

However, before you could finish, Jongho, eager to end the call, interrupted you. "I'm actually about to talk to the guys now." There was a certain finality in his voice, a determination that suggested he had made up his mind and was ready to face whatever came next. "We'll talk more later, Y/N." With that, he ended the call, his heart pounding in his chest. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. 

Upon reaching the dorm, Jongho paused at the entrance to gather his thoughts. He took a moment to look at the bags of food he carried in his hands, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Here goes nothing," he whispered under his breath, drawing in one long, calming breath before he pushed open the door. 

Inside, he was greeted by the familiar faces of his friends. Their expressions were a mix of curiosity and concern. His gaze naturally found Hongjoong, who gave him a reassuring nod, a silent message of support that eased some of the anxiety Jongho felt. 

Taking a deep breath, Jongho broke the silence. "I brought some food," he said, setting down the bags on the table. His voice was steady, but the members could sense a hidden tension beneath his casual demeanor. 

Yunho immediately stood up and walked over to Jongho. "Let me help you," he offered, taking some of the bags from Jongho. With Yunho's help, the food was quickly spread out on the table. 

"But before we start eating," Jongho began, setting down the plates and chopsticks. His voice had turned serious, causing the members to pause mid-conversation and look at him. "There's something important I wanted to discuss with you all." 

"What's up, Jongho?" Seonghwa asked, his brow furrowing in concern. The atmosphere in the room had noticeably shifted, the air charged with anticipation. 

Jongho paused for a moment, taking in another deep, steadying breath. His heart pounded rapidly, echoing loudly in his ears. The reality of what he was about to reveal made him feel as if he was carrying an enormous, burdensome load. He looked around at everyone gathered in the room, their expectant gazes only adding to the pressure he was under. Summoning every ounce of courage he had, he finally spoke up, his voice steady despite the nerves. "I have something important to share with you all," he began, his words hanging heavy in the air. He took another pause, letting the seriousness of his statement sink in. "Something... significant." 

The members exchanged curious and worried glances. "What's going on?" Yunho asked, instinctively sitting up straighter, his eyes keenly focused on the youngest. Jongho momentarily hesitated, his lips parting as he searched for the right words to convey his news. 

"Are you okay?" Mingi asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. The members had picked up on Jongho’s hesitation, their worry for their friend evident. 

Jongho nodded his head affirmatively, his eyes reflecting a sense of calm acceptance. "Yes," he began, his voice steady and reassuring, "I'm perfectly fine." He paused momentarily, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "Recently, I found out that..." His expression softened, a hint of vulnerability seeping through. "I... I have a daughter. A beautiful little girl who has made me see the world in a whole new light. Her name is Nari." The room seemed to swallow itself in a stunned, thick silence, as if the air had been sucked out in one fell swoop. The boys, taken aback, could only stare at Jongho, their gazes boring into him as they grappled with the enormity of the revelation he had just made. 

"A daughter?" Wooyoung repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, the word reverberating around the room. His eyes were wide with shock, disbelief etched into every feature of his face. His mind was spinning, trying to comprehend the unexpected news. "Since when?" He finally managed to stammer out, the question hanging heavy in the air. 

Jongho nodded again, his eyes meeting each of theirs in turn. "Yes, a daughter. She's going to be four years old soon. I only learned about her, well… yesterday." 

Struggling to comprehend the situation, San managed to stammer out, "How... how did this happen?" His facial expression was a perfect illustration of his bewilderment and surprise. 

Wooyoung, attempting to alleviate the tension in the room with a quip, scoffed and said, "Did you seriously just ask him about the birds and the bees?" His attempt at humor served as a brief respite in the heavy atmosphere. 

Jongho chuckled nervously at Wooyoung's comment, appreciating the attempt to lighten the mood. "It's... complicated," he admitted. "But what's important now is that she's here, and I want to do right by her." 

Yeosang, who had been quiet the whole time, finally spoke up. "Jongho, this is huge. How are you handling it?" 

Jongho sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's overwhelming, to be honest. But I want to be a part of Nari's life. That's why I needed to tell you all. I need your support and understanding as I navigate this." 

The members were quiet for a moment, processing the news. Then, Yunho spoke up, his voice gentle. "We're here for you, Jongho. Whatever you need, we'll support you." 

Seonghwa, who had been quietly absorbing the revelation, finally voiced his thoughts. "What about your daughter's mom?" he inquired; his tone full of worry. "Don't tell me you're married!" His terrified expression was somewhat amusing. 

Jongho laughed lightly, shaking his head at Seonghwa's worry. "No, no, I'm not married. Her mom is Y/N. We dated a while back, but… let’s just say things didn't work out." He paused, the mention of your name bringing a soft smile to his lips. "But despite everything, we're trying to work together for Nari's sake." 

"I can't believe there's a mini version of Jongho walking around this earth," Yeosang exclaimed, his eyes wide with astonishment. The room, previously filled with shock and concern, lit up as the other members burst into laughter. 

"Yeah, imagine a tiny Jongho running around, breaking apples left and right," San joked, grinning widely. 

Jongho found himself caught up in the infectious laughter, his shoulders dropping as some of the tension he had been carrying seemed to melt away. He said, "She's got my eyes," a clear note of pride resonating in his voice. 

Yunho, his expression painted with curiosity, tilted his head slightly, "Does she also have your voice?" he asked. 

A warm smile spread across Jongho's face as he spoke. "She's definitely got some musical talent. Y/N told me she loves singing along to our songs." 

"Looks like we've got a future idol in the making," Hongjoong remarked, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes. 

Seonghwa leaned in, a playful smirk on his face. "So, Jongho, when are we going to teach her the choreography for our next comeback?" 

"One step at a time, guys," Jongho chuckled. "First, I need to actually get to know her better." 

Mingi nudged him with his elbow. "You know, this means you'll have to take her to one of our dance practices. She must see her dad in action." 

"She would love that," Jongho admitted, his heart warming at the thought. 

"I honestly thought Seonghwa, with his baby fever, would have a baby first," Wooyoung laughed, resulting in a smack from Seonghwa. 

"Ya, Wooyoung!" Seonghwa responded in mock outrage, though the corners of his mouth lifted into an amused smile. "Just because I like kids doesn't mean I'm ready to have one yet." 

Hongjoong couldn't resist joining in on the friendly banter. "And who in their right mind would want to have a child with Seonghwa?" he teased, a playful grin spreading across his face. 

In response, Seonghwa fixed him with a mock stern look. "Watch it, Hongjoong," he warned with a playful glint in his eyes, "Or I'll make sure you're the first one to babysit." 

The room filled with laughter again, the light-hearted teasing helping to diffuse any lingering tension. 

"You know," Wooyoung said, still chuckling, "if Seonghwa did have a kid, that kid would be the most spoiled child on the planet." 

"Only the best for my imaginary child," Seonghwa retorted with a smirk. The room erupted in laughter again, the playful banter easing the tension even more. 

Jongho couldn't help but laugh along with them, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for his friends' support and humor. "Thanks, guys," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I really appreciate all of you." 

"Seriously, though," Mingi said, looking at Jongho with a sincere expression. "We’re all here for you. Anything you need, just let us know." 

"Yeah," Yeosang chimed in. "We’re Uncle Ateez now. We'll spoil her rotten." 

Jongho’s heart swelled with gratitude. "It means a lot to me. I was nervous about telling you all, but your support means everything." 

Hongjoong nodded. "We’re a family. We stick together no matter what." 

"Plus, we can teach her all the important things," San added with a mischievous grin. "Like how to prank you." 

As the teasing and laughter continued, Jongho felt a profound sense of relief. His brothers' acceptance and support meant the world to him. It gave him the strength and confidence he needed to face the challenges ahead, knowing that he wasn't alone. He had his family by his side, ready to support him as he stepped into his new role as a father. 

Wooyoung grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "So, when do we get to meet her? I mean, she's part of the family now, right?" 

Jongho cleared his throat, feeling a sudden rush of nerves. "Actually... you've already met her," he confessed, his gaze dropping to the floor. 

The announcement was met with a stunned silence as the members stared at him, their eyes wide in disbelief. "What do you mean we've already met her?" Yunho asked, his voice filled with confusion. 

Jongho nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Y/N was at our fan meeting with Nari." The memory of the fan meeting caused a wave of realization to wash over the members. They remembered seeing a little girl there. 

"That little girl... That was Nari?" Mingi asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Jongho nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, that was Nari." 

Wooyoung, who was completely dumbfounded, finally broke the silence. "Wait, so you're telling me the sweetest little girl who jumped right into my arms, that pure angel... is your daughter?" His voice was filled with astonishment as he stared at Jongho, the realization slowly sinking in. 

Jongho chuckled lightly at Wooyoung's reaction, appreciating the humor in the situation. "Yes, that's right." 

Wooyoung laughed, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he declared, "It's over for you bitches! I'm already her favorite." His confident assertion was met with a burst of mocking laughter from the other members. They playfully booed and wooed him, their friendly banter echoing throughout the room. The energetic atmosphere was infectious, and despite the weight of the revelation he had just shared, Jongho found himself joining in the laughter. 

"Well, I made her laugh," San argued, crossing his arms indignantly, "Everyone knows that laughter is the key to a kid's heart. So technically, I should be her favorite." 

"Laughter, huh?" Wooyoung retorted with a smirk, "Well, I actually got a hug from her. Physical contact beats laughter any day." 

Yunho decided to chime in, "Guys, I think we're all forgetting that I'm the one who gave her a high five. So, I'm pretty sure I'm her favorite." 

Jongho couldn't help but laugh at the ongoing friendly competition, feeling a sense of warmth spread through him. "Guys, it's not a competition," he finally managed to say, his voice filled with amusement. "But it's great to see that you're all excited to be a part of Nari's life." 

"Of course we are," San responded, his voice sincere. "She's part of our family." 

Hongjoong, who had been silently observing the playful chaos, decided to intervene. "Alright, that's enough," he declared, a playful smirk on his face. "Jongho, you need to tell us who her favorite is. A man's pride is at stake now." Wooyoung looked at Jongho expectantly, a triumphant smile already forming on his lips. 

Jongho sighed, wishing he didn't have to say this, didn't have to admit that indeed Wooyoung was her favorite. But he needed to end this friendly debate, so in a dramatic tone he stated, "Alright, you got me. Wooyoung... you are indeed Nari's favorite." A collective gasp filled the room followed by Wooyoung's triumphant laughter. 

Wooyoung's laughter echoed through the room, his chest puffing out with pride. "I knew it!" he exclaimed, pumping a fist in the air. The other members rolled their eyes at his display, but their smiles betrayed their amusement. 

The atmosphere in the room had lightened considerably. What started as a serious and nerve-wracking discussion had somehow turned into a friendly competition. Jongho couldn't help but feel grateful. His brothers, his family, had not only accepted his news but were also excited to be a part of his daughter's life. 

San, still grinning at Wooyoung's antics, turned to Jongho. "We're really happy for you, Jongho." His words were sincere, his gaze soft. "And we can't wait to be the best uncles Nari could ask for." 

Mingi nodded in agreement, a smile spreading across his face. "We'll be here for you, every step of the way." 

Jongho felt a lump form in his throat, his heart swelling with gratitude. He never doubted his friends' loyalty, but hearing their reaffirmations was comforting. It reassured him that he wasn't facing this journey alone. 

"Thank you, everyone," Jongho said, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm really lucky to have you all." The warmth in their eyes was all the confirmation he needed. He was surrounded by his family, ready to face the challenges of fatherhood together. 

"Do you think we will be able to properly meet her soon?" Seonghwa asked, his gaze filled with anticipation. 

Jongho nodded, a hopeful expression on his face. "I've been talking to Y/N about it, and she agrees that it would be good for Nari to get to know all of you. We just need to figure out the right time and place." The members nodded, understanding that this was a big step and one that needed to be handled with care and consideration. They all agreed to be patient and wait for Jongho to make the arrangements, knowing that this was a sensitive matter. 

The atmosphere in the room was filled with understanding and support, but Seonghwa finally voiced the question that had been lingering in the back of his mind. His tone was gentle, not wanting to intrude on Jongho's privacy, but curiosity and concern for their friend prevailed. "Jongho," he began, his gaze steady and kind, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but... why didn't things work out between you and Y/N?" Everyone in the room turned their eyes towards Jongho, waiting patiently for his response. It was not a question asked out of idle curiosity, but rather one rooted in genuine concern for their friend's well-being. 

Jongho took a moment to collect his thoughts, appreciating the gentle way Seonghwa posed the question. His gaze fell to his hands, fingers lightly drumming on the tabletop as he sought the right words to convey the complicated history that existed between him and you. "I met Y/N before our debut and… well, you can imagine how that was," Jongho began, his voice trailing off as he lowered his gaze to look at his hands. Speaking about it was more difficult than he had anticipated. He had spent countless nights pondering over whether he should've allowed himself to get so close to you, especially right before ATEEZ's debut. He knew he had risked not just his career, but also the harmony within the group. However, he also understood that honesty was crucial. If the boys knew about Nari, they should also know about his past relationship with you. 

Mingi broke the thoughtful silence that had settled over the room, drawing everyone's attention to him. "So, the infamous dating ban?" he asked, his voice echoing softly in the quiet space. 

"Yes, the dating ban," Jongho confirmed. There was a trace of melancholy in his voice, his lips curling into a sad smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. 

Wooyoung let out an exaggerated sigh. "Dating ban was such bullshit," he complained. Jongho chuckled at Wooyoung's dramatic sigh. He found a sense of solidarity in Wooyoung's words and nodded in agreement, his response a silent testament to their shared sentiments. 

"Well, if there's anyone here who should be talking, it's definitely you," San interjected, causing Wooyoung to furrow his brows in confusion, not quite grasping the implication of his words. Without skipping a beat, San continued, "I mean, I believe we all remember that you had a boyfriend back then. It's not exactly a secret, is it?" 

Wooyoung's eyes widened, a look of surprise flashing across his face. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He glanced at Yeosang, who was trying to suppress a grin, and then at Mingi, who simply shrugged, a knowing smile on his face. 

"Wait, you knew about that?" Wooyoung asked, his voice filled with disbelief. 

"Of course, we did," Yunho replied matter-of-factly. "You weren't exactly subtle, Wooyoung." 

"Yeah," Jongho added, his grin widening. "Your secret rendezvous weren't as secret as you thought." 

Wooyoung groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I can't believe you guys knew all along and didn't say anything." 

"Well," San said, trying to suppress his laughter. "It wasn't our place to say anything. And besides, it was kind of fun watching you think you were getting away with it." 

Just as Wooyoung was gathering his thoughts, preparing to open his mouth to speak, Yeosang, with a sly grin on his face, suddenly interjected. He smoothly diverted the conversation to a memorable event, saying, "I remember this one time when we were recording the music video for Deja Vu." Yeosang continued, his tone teasing, "You came to set sporting this huge hickey, it was impossible to miss." He laughed and added, "You really thought you had fooled us when you blamed it on the stylist, claiming that you were accidentally burned by a hair curler, didn't you?" 

Wooyoung's face flushed a deep red as he stammered, trying to find a way to defend himself. "I... I mean... it... it was a believable excuse, wasn't it?" He blurted out, his voice wavering slightly. The room erupted in laughter, each member clutching their stomachs as they bent over in mirth. The memory of Wooyoung's failed attempt at deception amplified the hilarity of the situation, and even Wooyoung himself couldn't help but join in the laughter. 

Mingi decided it was time to share his piece of information. "Well…" he began, drawing out the word to create a sense of suspense among his friends. After a dramatic pause, he continued, "Wooyoung wasn't the only one in a relationship." 

As these words left his lips, all eyes in the room turned to him, their attention now fully captivated. After enjoying a moment of being the center of attention, Mingi finally added the crucial piece of information. "Yunho was dating too," he revealed, his voice echoing in the sudden silence that followed. 

The room fell silent for a moment, all eyes turning towards Yunho. The surprise on their faces was comical, but the atmosphere was far from tense. There was no judgement in their gazes, just a mild shock and a lot of curiosity. Yunho simply shrugged, a small, sheepish smile spreading across his face. "Yeah," he admitted, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. "I was seeing someone back then too." 

The announcement was met with a range of reactions. San whistled, a playful smirk on his face. Seonghwa, on the other hand, let out a light chuckle. "I knew it," he said, pointing a finger at Yunho. "I could tell there was someone on your mind." 

"So, the girl with pink hair, right?" Yeosang asked, a wide grin spreading across his face. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes dancing with amusement. His gaze was fixed on Yunho, who was visibly taken aback by the sudden inquiry. "The one who was our assistant when we were shooting Kingdom?" He continued, the question lingering in the air, adding an element of suspense to the conversation. Yunho shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the unexpected spotlight making him squirm. He scratched the back of his head, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips as his eyes darted around the room, meeting the curious gazes of his bandmates. From the corner of his eye, he could see Jongho trying to suppress a grin, clearly enjoying the sudden turn of events. Yeosang leaned back in his seat, the satisfied smirk on his face signifying his victory. 

"How did you... know?" Yunho asked, his eyes wide with surprise. His voice echoed softly amidst the silence that had fallen upon the room. 

San, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth, turned his attention to Yeosang, who was enjoying his moment in the spotlight. "It seems like Yeosang knows everything," he voiced out, a note of amusement in his tone. His words hung in the air, drawing a round of chuckles from the other members. 

Yeosang, a smirk tugging at his lips, leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he met San's gaze, clearly enjoying the unexpected attention. His laughter filled the room, a sound that was contagious, causing the other members to join in. His response to San's comment was delayed as he tried to control his laughter, the sound echoing off the walls of the room. Once the laughter died down, Yeosang finally addressed San's statement. Still chuckling, he nodded in agreement, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, someone has to keep tabs on you guys," he retorted, earning a round of laughter from the others. "But to answer your question," Yeosang began, his smile broadening as he turned his gaze towards Yunho. There was a playful twinkle in his eyes that prompted a round of chuckles from the other members. "I just have a good eye for detail," Yeosang responded with a shrug, a smug grin on his face. "It was pretty obvious with the way she looked at you, Yunho." He concluded, causing Yunho to blush at the accurate observation. "And let's not forget those late-night 'phone calls' you used to have," Yeosang added with a wry grin, air-quoting around the words 'phone calls'. "I mean, I didn't know phone conversations could get so... intense." His words, filled with playful insinuation, caused another wave of laughter to ripple through the room. "And let's not forget the mysterious 'noise' that came from your room during those late-night 'phone calls'," Yeosang added, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I mean, I didn't know phone conversations could get so... loud." He concluded, causing another round of laughter to fill the room. 

"Alright, alright, that's enough," Yunho finally managed to say, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I get it, I wasn't as sneaky as I thought I was." 

"I guess the Dating Ban was bullshit for all of us," Wooyoung quipped, earning a round of laughter from the others. 

In a moment of sudden revelation, Hongjoong, with a hint of disbelief in his voice, asked the room, "Was I really the only one not involved in dating?" 

Nonchalantly, Seonghwa, with a teasing glint in his eyes, responded in a humorous tone, "Well, you were sort of dating... you were totally absorbed in your work." Hongjoong's question was met with a round of laughter, Seonghwa's quick wit lightening the mood even further. 

"That's true," Hongjoong admitted with a chuckle, "I was indeed dating my work back then." 

"Wait a minute," Yeosang interjected, an intrigued look on his face as he turned towards Hongjoong. "Weren't you seeing this one guy from Balmain? You know that guy with really cool tattoos? I remember you mentioning something about him right around the time they were considering lifting the dating ban." The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at Hongjoong, their eyebrows raised in surprise and curiosity. Caught off guard by Yeosang's unexpected revelation, Hongjoong found himself at a loss for words. "I mean... it was... what I'm trying to say is," he stuttered, pausing as he tried to gather his thoughts. "It was way later than the others…" he finally managed to say, the admission hanging in the air amidst a room full of intrigued pairs of eyes. 

Before he could recover, Mingi, who had been quietly observing the exchange, suddenly burst out, "Wait, hold on a second! Was Hongjoong the reason they decided to lift the ban?" He pointed at Hongjoong accusingly, his eyes wide with disbelief and shock. Hongjoong spluttered, his face flushing a bright red as he scrambled to deny Mingi's claim. The room erupted in laughter at his flustered reaction, the seriousness of their earlier conversation forgotten. 

"No, no, that's not how it was at all!" Hongjoong exclaimed, his eyes wide as he tried to explain himself. He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "I had absolutely no idea that the company was even considering lifting the dating ban when I started seeing him. It was all just a coincidence, nothing more." Hongjoong looked around the room, his gaze meeting each of his bandmates in turn, hoping they would believe him. 

Despite the surprise that had initially taken over them, the members of the group couldn't help but join in the laughter at Hongjoong's flustered state. A tinge of amusement was evident in their eyes. San, with a grin spreading cheekily across his face, chimed in, "Alright, Hongjoong," His tone was teasing but friendly. "We believe you...for now." 

Wooyoung, still unable to completely stifle his chuckles, moved towards Hongjoong. With a comforting pat on Hongjoong's back, he tried to reassure him. "Don't worry, captain," he said, his grin never leaving his face as he looked at Hongjoong, "Your secret is safe with us." His words, filled with sincerity and a promise of trust, hung in the air, solidifying the bond among them. 

"Let's just get one thing straight, Hongjoong," Jongho began, his voice carrying a serious undertone that instantly caught everyone's attention. His gaze was steady, his eyes reflecting the confusion and a hint of resentment that had been brewing inside him. He wished he didn't have to disrupt the light-hearted mood that had settled in, but he found himself compelled to voice the question that had been nagging at him for far too long. The room fell silent. The laughter that had been resonating just moments ago seemed to have evaporated, replaced by an air of anticipation. All eyes were now on Jongho, waiting for him to continue. He took a deep breath, preparing himself to voice out the question that had been weighing on his heart. "If we were all, at some point or another, involved in dating despite the ban..." he said, his voice steady despite the serious topic. His gaze never left Hongjoong, seeking answers in the leader's reactions. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before he continued. "Why was it me who had to give up on Y/N? Why did you force me to break up with her?" The question hung in the air, raw and potent. It was a question that dug deep, unearthing a past that Jongho had tried to bury. A past filled with regret, heartache and unspoken words. The question was met with silence, the members exchanging glances, each lost in their own thoughts and recollections. Hongjoong looked taken aback, clearly not expecting Jongho's question. He opened his mouth but closed it again, seemingly struggling to find the right words. The silence that followed was deafening, all eyes now turned towards Hongjoong who sat quietly, his gaze steady on Jongho. 

"Jongho," he finally started, his voice steady and calm. "Our situation back then, it was... it was different." He paused, carefully choosing his words. "We were only rookies. The risk was too great. It wasn't just about you, or me, or any of us individually. It was about ATEEZ." His words filled the room, silencing any potential objections. He looked around at his bandmates, his gaze lingering on each of them as he continued. "We all made sacrifices. We all had to give up something, or someone, for the sake of our dreams. It wasn't easy, but it was necessary." The room was silent as Hongjoong's words sunk in. Each member was lost in their own thoughts, reflecting on the sacrifices they had made and the choices they had to live with. "I know it was hard," Hongjoong added, his gaze returning to Jongho. "And I'm sorry you had to go through that. But we made it, didn't we? We're here because of the choices we made, the sacrifices we made. And I believe it was worth it." Jongho remained silent, his gaze fixed on Hongjoong. He understood where Hongjoong was coming from, and he knew that the decisions made back then had shaped them into who they were today. But that didn't make the pain of losing you any less real, any less raw. The laughter and friendly banter that had filled the room just moments ago seemed like a distant memory now. All eyes were on Hongjoong, each member taking in his words and the weight they carried. "I know that I am partially to blame for your absence in your daughter's life," Hongjoong continued, his voice laced with a palpable regret that filled the silent room. "I realize now that my actions and decisions back then have had a profound impact, not only on you, Jongho, but also on a little girl who deserved to have her father by her side. For that, I am truly sorry." Hongjoong cleared his throat before continuing, "If I ever hurt any of you with my actions or decisions, I am so sorry," his voice filled with raw emotion as he looked around the room, "As a leader, I'm the one responsible and I wanted nothing more than for all eight of us to be successful." His voice trembled, and he was on the verge of tears. And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he made a confession that hung heavy in the room. "I... I gave up on someone too." His confession was met with silence, a solemn moment of understanding passing through the room. Hongjoong continued, his voice barely above a whisper, the attention of the boys fixated on him in the quiet room. "She's married now. She found someone who makes her happy, someone who was there when I couldn't be. I genuinely am happy for her," he paused, his gaze falling on his hands as he battled with the emotions welling up inside him. "But sometimes I find myself thinking 'what if.' What if circumstances had been different? What if I had made different choices?" His voice trailed off, leaving the unsaid words hanging in the tension-filled room. Each member was lost in their own thoughts, reflecting on the sacrifices they had made and the choices they had to live with. 

"Hongjoong, I don't blame you," Jongho interrupted, his voice firm yet gentle. His heart ached for his friends who were shouldering an immense burden of guilt. "We both didn't know Y/N was pregnant," he continued, his gaze softening as he tried to reassure Hongjoong. "We were all in the dark about her pregnancy. None of us could have predicted what was to come." The room fell into a contemplative silence as Jongho's words echoed, a reminder of the unforeseen circumstances that had led them to this point. "And while it's true that I missed out on some moments in Nari's life," Jongho added, his voice steady with conviction, "I'm here now. And I'm ready to make up for lost time. We all are." His words were filled with resolve, a promise to do right by his daughter. 

Hongjoong nodded, acknowledging Jongho's words. "We're with you, Jongho," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "We'll support you and Nari every step of the way." 

"And if anyone tries to mess with our niece," San added, a fierce determination in his voice, "they'll have to deal with all of us." His words were met with nods of agreement from the other members, their faces reflecting their shared resolve. 

"And Jongho," Hongjoong began, his voice heavy with the weight of his words, his gaze locked onto Jongho's with an intensity that demanded his undivided attention. "We all made sacrifices. Each of us, at one point or another, had to let go of someone we deeply cared for, someone we loved." He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in, their echoes filling the room with a solemn silence. "Considering all the sacrifices we made, for the sake of our dreams and for the sake of ATEEZ," he continued, his voice steady despite the heavy topic, "you owe it not just to yourself, but to all of us, to fight for Y/N." His words were punctuated by a determined nod, an unspoken pledge of support hanging in the air between them. "You have to muster the courage within you, fight against the odds and fight for your love. You have to fight for the chance to be with Y/N, to be a father to Nari, to build the family that you clearly want." He concluded, his gaze softening as he offered Jongho a reassuring smile. "Because at the end of the day," Hongjoong said, his voice softer now, "love is a battle worth fighting for. And I want all of you guys to know," Hongjoong voice carried a seriousness that instantly drew the attention of his bandmates. "That even though our personal lives are evolving, we still need to stay focused on our work. We've been doing such an incredible job, and I couldn't be prouder of each and every one of us." He paused, allowing his words to resonate in the silent room. Hongjoong continued, "But moving forward, let's make a pact to be honest with each other. Let's not hide our feelings or our relationships out of fear." His gaze swept across the room, meeting the eyes of his friends who listened attentively to his words. "We shouldn't be scared of a scandal or of what others might think. We should remember that love is what makes us human." He took a deep breath, the weight of his next words hanging heavy in the air. "So, for the love of God, guys, let love in. Embrace it. And most importantly, talk to us about it." Hongjoong concluded, his voice filled with sincerity and a hint of urgency. "We're a family, and there should be no secrets between us. Let's support each other in all aspects of our lives, personal or professional." 

Mingi, who had been quiet for a while, cleared his throat, drawing the attention of his bandmates. There was an air of anticipation as they turned to face him, the room falling silent as he prepared to speak. With a small, nervous smile on his face, he looked around at his friends and admitted, "Actually, I'm... I'm seeing someone now." The eyes of his bandmates widened in surprise; their gazes fixated on Mingi. His words hung in the air, creating a moment of stunned silence. "It's still really fresh," Mingi continued, his voice filled with a mix of nervousness and excitement. "But I really wanted to tell you." He took a deep breath, steadying himself before continuing. "I'm... I'm dating a guy." His confession, delivered in a soft voice, echoed in the silence. The room remained quiet for a while as his words sunk in, each member processing the revelation. The atmosphere was one of uncertainty, as Mingi waited for someone to break the silence. Then, slowly, smiles began to form on the faces of his bandmates. Nods of understanding and acceptance started filling the room, each member expressing their support for Mingi in their own way. 

Wooyoung was the first to react, his surprise quickly turning into a wide grin. "That's great, Mingi!" He exclaimed, his enthusiasm breaking the silence.  

San followed, a soft smile on his face as he nodded at Mingi in agreement, "We're happy for you," The atmosphere in the room had shifted from shock to acceptance, and soon enough, it was filled with a renewed sense of brotherhood. The bond they shared as a group was stronger than ever. They were not just bandmates; they were a family. And in a family, love and acceptance were all that mattered. 

In the aftermath of Mingi's revelation, Hongjoong directed a playful question towards the group. "So Jongho is a father, Mingi is a taken man... Is there anything else you guys are hiding?" His tone was light, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes as he scanned the room. 

Seonghwa, with a broad grin on his face, let out a chuckle that echoed through the room, breaking the silence that had momentarily settled. "Well, we all are uncles now, that's a new one," he remarked, his words drawing a round of laughter from the others. The thought of being 'uncles' was still a novelty to them, a new role they were more than willing to embrace. After the laughter had subsided, Seonghwa added another revelation, his tone teasing. "And Yeosang might just be a part-time detective," he said, earning a surprised look from Yeosang and another round of laughter from the group. "With the way he's been figuring out everyone's secrets, he might as well consider it as a second career." His comment was met with nods of agreement, each member recalling Yeosang's uncanny ability to notice the smallest of details. 

"And we can’t forget San's newfound addiction," Wooyoung chimed in, a playful look on his face. "Protein shakes, protein bars, protein everything!" His comment drew laughter from the group. San responded with a playful smack on Wooyoung's arm, his face flushing with embarrassment but a grin on his face. 

"Hey, it's not an addiction, it's a lifestyle," San retorted, trying to defend himself amidst the peals of laughter. His attempt to justify himself only made his friends laugh harder. 

"Guys let's also not forget one of the most entertaining aspects of our group dynamics," Mingi chimed in, a playful glint in his eyes. He paused for dramatic effect, causing the room to fall into a moment of anticipatory silence. Then, with a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, he finally revealed his thoughts. "If only San was gay, Wooyoung would have already married him by now!" His words, delivered with impeccable timing, caused an eruption of laughter to fill the room. The members doubled over, clutching their stomachs as they laughed. 

Wooyoung, upon hearing Mingi's teasing comment, was left speechless for a moment. He then burst into hearty laughter, his face flushing a deep shade of red, but there was a twinkle in his eyes that revealed his amusement. He managed to retort between bouts of laughter, "Well, if San would have me, I wouldn't say no!" His comment added to the hilarity, earning another round of laughter from the group. 

After the laughter had died down, San, still grinning from Wooyoung's retort, chimed in. "Well, I guess we'll have to see about that," he said, winking at Wooyoung. His comment elicited another round of laughter. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, Wooyoung made a kissy face at San, causing the room to burst into another round of laughter. San responded with a playful roll of his eyes. 

"But let's not forget," Yeosang added, his eyes glinting with amusement, "Mingi is saying all this as if he wouldn't risk it all for Yunho." His statement, filled with playful insinuation, hung in the air, causing another round of laughter to ripple through the room. 

Yunho, who had remained quiet for a while, finally chimed in with a chuckle. "Well, I guess we all have our secret crushes... or not-so-secret, in some cases." His comment, accompanied by a teasing look towards Mingi, added another wave of laughter to the room. 

"Thank you guys so much," Jongho started, his voice carrying a heartfelt note in the room filled with his bandmates. "I know that this is the beginning of something new for me. Things are going to change, my life will definitely take a significant turn." He paused for a moment, his words hanging in the air as he collected his thoughts. "But to know that I have the support of my bandmates, my brothers," he continued, his voice stronger now. "It means more than I can express. It gives me strength and confidence to face the challenges that lie ahead. To know that I'm not alone in this journey, that I have you guys standing by my side, it means the world to me."

"Eight make one, right?" Mingi smiled at Jongho, his words echoing the sentiment they all held close in their hearts.

"That's the spirit!" Yeosang chimed in, his smile matching the warmth in his voice. "We're a team, a family. We've been through a lot together and we'll continue to face whatever comes our way, together." The room was filled with nods of agreement and smiles around. The atmosphere was light, yet filled with a profound sense of unity and resolve. They were more than just a band – they were a family, bound not just by their shared dreams and experiences, but by the love and respect they held for each other.

"Let's continue to work hard, for ourselves, for ATEEZ, and for ATINY," Wooyoung voiced out, his tone determined yet filled with heartfelt sincerity. His words were met with a chorus of agreement, each member expressing their shared commitment to their dreams and to their fans.

"We've come a long way, haven't we?" San mused, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips. His words prompted a round of nods, each member reminiscing about their journey – the struggles they had faced, the victories they had celebrated, and the countless memories they had created together.

"And we still have a long way to go," Hongjoong added, his voice ringing with determination. His words were met with nods of agreement, the resolve in his voice reflecting in the eyes of his bandmates.

"But as long as we have each other, we can face anything," Yunho concluded, his gaze meeting each of his bandmates in turn. His words, filled with conviction and unwavering faith, hung in the air, solidifying the bond among them.

"I hate to say it but could we maybe... do a group hug?" Jongho suggested his voice barely above a whisper. He hadn't even finished his sentence when Wooyoung, unable to contain his excitement, was already all over him, pulling him into a tight embrace. The others quickly joined in, forming a tight huddle around Jongho, their laughter and chatter filling the room.

In the comfort of the group hug, each member felt a sense of relief and unity. They were there for each other, through thick and thin, a testament to their unbreakable bond.

"Eight makes one team!" Hongjoong shouted, his voice echoing in the room. The rest of the members joined in, their voices blending into a chorus that filled the room with a sense of unity.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: After losing your job and being falsely imprisoned, you turn to the Twins for help—which eventually stirs up unspoken feelings.

Genre: hurt and comfort 🤍

Warnings: murder, blood, prison, alludes to depression, canon like violence, gun wounds, protective!Tangerine, swearing,

~ @j23r23 thank you so much for requesting, my darling! hope you like this one! ~

The winter air feels much colder than it had in a while. You sigh, taking in your surroundings and you frown when you see them.

They're parked not far away from you, both of them leaning against their car like some good-for-nothing gangsters (which you suppose they kinda are).

Lemon is the one who sees you first. He nudges his brother, causing Tangerine to look up from the ground and shift when he sees you. You suddenly feel insecure. You must look like a shell of yourself, your eyes darkened from the few years you'd spent in prison. You don't know if you want them to see you like this but you don't have much of a choice because Lemon waves you over and you walk up to them. 

"Hi," Lemon says and pulls you into his arms for a moment. He rests his hand on your shoulder and he looks sympathetic. "How're holdin' up?" He asks seriously and he doesn't comment on how exhausted and beaten down you must look.

It had been a long three years.

You nod, afraid to speak in case your voice sounds different. Lemon smiles weakly and looks up at Tangerine, who's unusually calm—especially for this situation. You turn to him and see him hesitate. You strain a smile and then he pulls you in his arms, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You're frozen in place.

God, he still smells the same. 

"No one hurt ya in there, did they?" Tangerine whispers roughly, his arms tightening. 

You shake your head and he pulls away, concern evident in his eyes from your lack of verbal communication. You have always been so talkative and bubbly and now you're some sad girl Tangerine doesn't m recognize. It breaks his heart. 

 You're quiet as you sit in their car. You can faintly hear Lemon and Tangerine's hushed whispers but you don't pay them any mind. You look outside at the passing cars and open the window, feeling the air on your skin. You missed this.

When you realize they're pulling up to your apartment complex, you frown and lean forwards. "What are we doing here?" you ask, your voice strained. It's the first thing you've spoken to them.

"What do you mean? You're home," Lemon shrugs and exits the car. Tangerine follows him and you do too. You stand in front of your apartment door, feeling your lip wobble. 

"But–I didn't–I couldn't pay for all this in jail," you whisper. 

"Yeah, we know so we paid for it for ya," Tangerine sniffs nonchalantly and he puts his hands in his pockets, "T'wasn't a problem." 

You look at them both, feeling embarrassing tears water your eyes and you cover your mouth to hide any equally embarrassing noise.

Both Lemon and Tangerine don't know how to deal with your sudden shift in emotion so Lemon, being the brother who is more in touch with his emotions, simply holds you. You feel warm and safe in his arms.

Once your tears have finally calmed down, you find yourself sitting around your dinner table, your eyes round as you look at both of the brothers. You can see the plant you loved so much isn't dead—they'd even taken care your plants.

Lemon stirs his tea, while Tangerine looks at you from across the table. His eyes glance across all your features, as if he's still making sure you're truly okay. 

"I want to kill him," you suddenly say, catching them by surprise. 

"You want to kill who, luv?" Tangerine frowns, crossing his legs.

"My uncle. He's the reason all this happened, isn't he? I had a promising career in MI6. I was excellent at my job and then some asshole—who's already dead mind you—framed me because my uncle asked him to? And then he just sat around as my life burned into nothing," you rant, your voice strained, "I have nothing anymore. No promising job, no dignity, and all I have are two criminals I accidentally became friends with from a pub years ago," you rub your eyes in annoyance, "no offense."

"Some taken," Lemon narrows his eyes at you and then grunts when Tangerine kicks his shin. 

Tangerine understands. He really does. You'd lost everything because of your uncle. He knew how much you loved your job, how much you loved doing the right thing. Now, you were disgraced and your only friends were criminals.

Yeah…Tangerine definitely understood. 

"Are you sure murdering him is gonna make ya feel any better, darlin'?" he asks cautiously. Tangerine knows your moral compass so well he'd even judged you for it when you'd first met. You don't kill—you aren't a killer—and that's one of the reasons he's so drawn to you. 

You're a good person.

You nod. "Yeah, I'm sure. And I'm asking you for help, not your permission. I'll find a way to do it either way," you say and Tangerine sends Lemon a look. Lemon shrugs at his brother. 

"I'm game. I never liked that fuckin' bastard." 

Tangerine sighs and looks at you. He can't exactly say no now because that would make him the arsehole. So he just nods. 

* * *

Tangerine knew this was a bad fuckin' idea—especially sending you in alone—because he can hear you sobbing into your mic. He can't see you but he hears your desperation as you confront your uncle in his fancy, million-dollar home as he and Lemon wait outside, listening in to the entire conversation through their ear-pieces.

It's killing him.

"Calm down will you, cupcake, you're not making any sense," your uncle's condescending tone rings through Tangerine's ears and his hand tightens around his gun. 

"Don't you dare call me that," you hiss, "I'm not ten anymore. I trusted you with that information about the mole—I just never imagined you would have been the mole in the first place and then that you would plan my imprisonment! I fucking trusted you—you piece of shit!"

Tangerine hears some commotion and steps forwards but Lemon puts a hand out to stop him from intervening. 

"You don't know when to stay down, do you, girl?" your uncle's menacing voice cuts into Tangerine's earpiece, a little less loud than yours, and it sounds as if he's speaking to some animal—which makes Tangerine's blood boil and his jaw clench. 

"Bruv, calm down," Lemon warns his brother in a whisper, "Ya gotta keep a cool head. She can handle herself."

"Ya, I know, but she shouldn't have to," Tangerine hisses, his hand clenching around his gun. 

Suddenly, they both hear your squeal, accompanied by a loud crash and in an instant, Tangerine and Lemon are breaking into your uncle's house.

"Y/n!" Tangerine screams without thinking, skidding into the living room where he sees that your uncle has shoved you into his bookshelf, causing a bunch of pictures to crash to the ground. 

Your eyes widen when you see Tangerine. He whips his head around just in time to see your uncle aiming a gun at his chest. He inhales, his arm lifting to shoot his own weapon when he feels you collide with his shoulder, sending him falling sideways as three loud gunshots ring around the house.

One from his gun, one from your uncle's, and one from Lemon's. 

With a grunt, Tangerine lands on his shoulder, his eyes widening when he sees your uncle's body crash to the ground; blood oozing from his head and his thigh. Tangerine pats his chest for any sign of injury and immediately he feels like the biggest asshole because he remembers you had pushed him away. 

His head snaps around and his breath leaves him. You're barely standing, your hands clutching at your side where your uncle's bullet had punctured you. Immediately, Tangerine jumps to his feet just in time to catch your crumbling form as you lean against his body and grasp at his arm.

"Tan," you whimper, your chest rising and falling rapidly as blood seeps through your blouse.

"Fuck," Lemon exclaims, holstering his smoaking gun and rushes to your other side. 

"She fuckin' jumped in front of me," Tangerine sounds panicked as his hand pushes back some of your hair, his cheeks hot and his eyes burning. He feels tears run down his cheeks. "Hey, hey, sweetheart, you're okay," he says as he pressed a hand over yours to put more pressure on the wound, his heart breaking at the small sounds of pain you make. 

"She'll be okay, it's just a graze," Lemon insists, his voice shaky as if he's convincing himself.

Tangerine continues to stroke your hair, soothing you from any pain you could be experiencing. "It's my fault," his voice trembles, "I should have taken that bullet—darlin', why did you push me out of the way?" 

Your eyelids flutter and he can see you can't comprehend what he's telling you. 

You need a doctor. Now. 

* * *

When you wake, you're in a warm fluffy bed. You sit up, leaning your head against the headboard as your eyes adjust to the sunlight in the room. You startle when you feel a pair of calloused hands on your cheek, turning your head gently, and then you're staring into the prettiest blue eyes you've ever seen. 

"You're awake," his voice is husky and there is an inflection that indicates a lack of sleep. His brown hair is a mess and he looks unusually unkempt. He doesn't look like the man you know. He looks concerned—vulnerable.

"What happened?" you say, not recognizing the sound of your voice. You cough.

"Your uncle shot you—well—he tried to shoot me but you saved me, darlin'. You're my hero," Tangerine says and presses a quick kiss to your forehead. His lips linger longer than they should and you savor the feeling. "Only, next time you let me handle the bullet, ya understand me?"   

You smile and sit up again, touching your bandaged side. Tangerine pushes some hair away from your eyes and shushes you, "Shh, don't move too much," he reprimands sweetly.

"Who did this?" you ask, mentioning how well someone had patched you up. 

"Lem knows someone. He was careful with ya, I made sure of it." 

Your heart swells as you hide a smile. "You stayed?"

Tangerine caresses his knuckles down your cheek. "Course I stayed, luv. I wouldn't let some rando care for you all alone," he scrunches his nose and sniffs, "I don' know the bloke. Had to make sure you were safe, yeah?" 

You stare at him and it's as if all your worries melt into nothing. His touch is so gentle and you've never felt safer than by his side.

You know should have done something about your feelings a long long time ago, when everything was normal. When you had a job and everything was good and right. Now the only thing that feels good and right is his hand on your cheek. 

"I missed you," you say, meaning every word so much your heart might leap at him. 

Tangerine nods. "I missed ya too, darlin'."

You take a breath.

"Tan," you start, building up your courage, "I- I have something I want to tell you. I love you. I've loved you for years a-and I don't want to hide my feelings anymore. Not when I almost died."

Tangerine looks shell-shocked, his pupils blown wide as he takes in your words. You love him? He feels like he's in a dream and when he'll eventually wake up he'll puke all over himself from the butterflies in his stomach. 

"Don't think they were well hidden, sweetness," Lemon interrupts from the doorway. "Ya took a bullet for him. I only take bullets for people I really love." 

"Shut up," Tangerine hisses at his brother, "Go away."

Lemon raises his arms in surrender and adds. "Don't pretend like yours were well hidden either, bruv. This wanker talked about ya every day when you were in the slammer. Such a fuckin' chatter box all 'f sudden." Tangerine looks like he wants to chuck his shoe at Lemon but he restrains himself. When he looks at you, you're staring at him. 

"You talked about me?" you whisper, smiling. 

"All the time," Tangerine admits, his voice small. "I really missed you."

"He cried himself to sleep—"

"Alright, seriously, what the fuck are ya? A fuckin' parrot repeating everything I say and do? Get out," Tangerine snaps at Lemon and points to the door. Lemon makes talking animations with his hands and rolls his eyes at his brother before he finally leaves the room. 

"You talked about me?" you repeat, more teasing in your tone as Tangerine focuses on you again. 

He blushes. "I just told'ya I did," he says, embarrassed. He takes your hand and runs his thumb over your palm. "I couldn't stand knowing you were all alone in there—with a bunch of criminals—so I talked about ya because I couldn't talk to ya." 

"You could have—" you begin but Tangerine interrupts you with a shake of his head and a  squeeze of your hand. 

"Darlin', it was too dangerous'. Believe me if I could have, I would have. But, neither Lem or I wanted them coppers to know you were associated with criminals like us. If ya don't think we have a record, yer dead wrong," he chuckles darkly, "We're bad men, doll. Bad men. And you're such a good girl—so righteous and smart and a top agent—"

"Was a top agent," you huff and adjust your sitting position. "'M not anymore. I'm a released criminal now—plus, I just killed my uncle so that means I'm also a killer."

"Lemon killed your uncle," Tangerine says matter-of-factly. 

"I wanted him dead," you say, " and I'm happy that bastard is gone and more importantly, I'm glad I took this bullet for you because look, I'm fine and I would have rather I died than you because I—"

"I love you too," Tangerine finishes your sentence with such intensity, saving you from any more rambling. "I love you so damn much. Seeing you hurt almost killed me." 

He leans in and moves to kiss your forehead but you move your arms, ignoring the pain in your side as you do so, and tilt your head so his lips hit yours instead. Tangerine is surprised by your boldness and the feel of your lips on his but he melts into the kiss instantly. Gently, his arms wrap around your waist and he holds you close to him. 

You can feel every bit of love he has inside him pouring from his touch and lips. He's worshiping you as if he'd been born to do so and he kisses you more passionately. Once he disconnects his lips, he presses his forehead against yours. "Can we make a deal?" he whispers, his breath ragged and harsh. 

You nod, holding both of his cheeks in your hand. 

"From now on, neither one of us gets shot, okay?" Tangerine says with a hint of vulnerability. "Because my poor heart can't handle anymore of this, luv," he looks you over and finally kisses your forehead like he'd initially planned. 

"Okay, Tan, it's a deal."

[elsa-fogen]

Sudden thought of Inside Out AU, but it's Alastor's emotions we see. What would they look like? :0 (it's okay if you're not into this idea)

GET OUT OF MY HEAD i was just thinking that (i'm not gonna draw it tho lol i'm gonna die kjdhjlfkdgdljhk it's stupid) (they're all just mini alastors but in different color IFUVJIHLGKDFLGKDFGKLJDUH i told ya it's stupid)

but i was thinking what if a person like has very organised mindscape, there would be mini version of themselves controlling all emotions and having access to any memory at any time, and that would be what is happening in Alastor's head lol

Also he (in my headcanon) has that other voice in his head, and i'm not sure about that, how it would look... like another entity in there? possibly...

also, big question which emotion is the main one?... i'm not sure, my variants are anger, joy or disgust (SADNESS IS LITERALLY BANNED LOL) (sometimes (very VERY rarely) it manages to get to the controls and it's a disaster) (i haven't seen inside out 2 yet, if there any important lore then i don't know it, but i know there are like new emotions, is there hate? can Alastor have it? that would be very fitting for him (DON'T TELL ME IF THERE HATE IN THE MOVIE i dont' wanna spoilers)) (all other emotions and mini alastor are fighting sadness and The Voice is just watching them with popcorn) (also sadness made all the memories with mom sad because yyyeeeaahh)

ALSO??? like. Alastor doesn't remember those 7 years, but they aren't forgotten compelitely, just blocked, how would THAT look?? A huge wall?

also, core memories. one with mom, for sure. one with his first kill (his dad cough cough). sOMETHING ABOUT RADIO! Yes! Question, can core memories form in afterlife? if so then Rosie must be in one.

i'm thinking too much about this silly crossover i never gonna draw lol

but feel free to use these headcanons btw, if anyone wants to draw anything let me know i'd love to look at it (and die probably)

[anthotneystark]

Wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face

It doesn’t happen suddenly.

Or, it does, but it’s a long time coming.

It’s a long time coming because it’s been coming his whole life. It’s been coming since the first time someone looked at him and said “it’s a good thing you’re pretty”. It’s been coming since the first time he heard someone say “beauty over brains”. It’s been coming since he was old enough to know that his dad was already planning on having to make connections to get him into a school of his choosing. He’s always known his book smarts were lacking, but it always hurt when he was reminded of it.

But it’s been more recent than that too.

It’s been coming since he felt that slick tail wrap around his neck. It’s been coming since Robin helped to change the bandages on his back. It’s been coming since the first date after everything ended with him going to bed alone because “I’m just not in the mood anymore” followed him pulling off his shirt.

It’s been coming since forever.

His looks have been his biggest asset his entire life, the only thing he could really use to get attention. And now there’s scratches in the paint.

After everything, when they’re finally safe, everything changes.

He doesn’t change, or he doesn’t think he does, because his habits are the same and his thoughts are the same and his nightmares are the same. But life slows down. And with it slowing down, he changes anyway.

Where once he was all lean, taut muscle, he softens. It’s still there, his daily runs and exercise are proof of that, but it’s a little more insulated.

(Robin tells him it’s because he’s been living with the stress of monsters for years, that feeling safe has pushed his body out of survival mode.)

It’s been coming though. With each comment from his mother about how he’s clearly eating too much junk food. With his father’s comments about how long his hair has gotten. With how girls’ eyes just skim right over him and move on.

It’s not all bad, of course. The kids, surprisingly, don’t comment beyond their usual teasing over things within his control – “stripes again? Don’t you have any other patterns?” or “why do you have to wear those shorts while you’re cleaning the pool?” which is usually followed by Eddie smacking whoever said it. Max makes exactly one comment, quietly, when it’s just the two of them still awake during a movie night.

“You’re a better pillow these days.”

Maybe it’s a joke, maybe she’s just being nicer with her teasing, but whatever her reasoning he likes it. When he thinks about it like that, being different doesn’t feel like a bad thing.

It doesn’t usually last long though.

So it’s not a sudden thing, until it is.

He’s not even totally sure what causes it. Some comment, sure, but the words themselves are in one ear and out the other. His parents are leaving for another trip, his mother comments about eating healthier while they’re gone, his father makes some dig that’ll lodge under his skin with all the other barbs he’s thrown at him for all these years.

All he really remembers is that a comment is made. The rush of heat and sour bile in his throat. The door shuts and all he can hear are overlapping echoes of all the comments that have ever been thrown at him. All he can feel is the tightness of the tee shirt he’s wearing the weight that no longer rests on his shoulders, but which is spread over his entire body. He finds himself looking into a mirror and suddenly cannot look at that any longer.

His hands shake and he doesn’t trust himself, but he knows where he can go.

It should scare him that he doesn’t remember the drive. It should scare him that he’s here but doesn’t fully know how he got here. But he doesn’t have room for more panic in his head. They’re past the point of knocking, of waiting to be let in, so pushing through the doorway of the trailer is a familiar motion. Eddie looking up and smiling where he’s strumming his guitar is a familiar sight.

The way his smile faulters and turns into a frown is less familiar.

“Stevie? What’s wrong?” He feels like he can’t breath, can’t possibly explain everything in his head, but he can’t just expect Eddie to read his mind. He’s not Robin after all.

“I need it gone. Off. I can’t…I can’t,” he manages, one shaking hand sliding into his hair and tugging, the pain grounding for just a moment. Eddie might not be able to read his mind, but he understands him these days more than most people. It’s an unlikely friendship founded in terror and fortified by countless hours in hospital rooms and new homes.

“Oh sweetheart. Are you sure?” He knows it’s extreme, but he can’t help what he needs, even if Eddie is concerned. He nods, swallowing hard. Eddie doesn’t try to talk him out of it, just pulls him to the bathroom and sits him on the edge of the tub.

“Lets start small, okay? And we can go as far as you need from there.” He wants to argue, but at the same time he knows it’s reasonable. And it’s Eddie. He trusts Eddie. He can’t make any words come out, but he manages a little nod. Eddie, doing what he does best, just starts talking. He’s not really paying attention to the words, but he doesn’t have to. He can feel the chill of the metal scissors, the soft rumble of Eddie’s voice, the too gentle fingers pushing and pulling him into whatever position is best. Eddie pauses now and again, a question in his eyes, but continues on when he sees whatever he’s looking for still lingering.

It's not until Steve feels his shoulders slumping, his hands loosening where they’re clenched at his knees, the chill of the breeze from the open window hitting skin that no longer feels boiling hot, that Eddie sets down the scissors. He feels lighter, doesn’t even care about the itchy feeling of stray hairs clinging to his clothes and skin.

When he finally looks in the mirror, his hair is shorter than it’s been in years. It’s not gone, not buzzed off, but it’s not the same as it was.

Neither is he though.

Eddie’s giving him a knowing look, one that says he’s got something to say but is holding off.

The cut itself is a little rough, but in a good way. It’s clearly not a professional sort of thing; he likes it more because of it.

“Thank you,” he whispers, exhaustion and relief hitting him in equal measures.

“You know, when I buzzed my hair, there were a lot of rumors,” Eddie says softly. “Stuff about my dad punishing me, about looking too girly before, that sort of thing. But really, it was just…so much going on all at once. My dad had just gotten arrested, mom took off, Uncle Wayne was stressed over having another mouth to feed. I felt like I couldn’t breath and just-” he makes a buzzing noise and mimes shaving through the mop of dark hair, which he’s got tied back today now that Steve can actually see it.

“Just had to get it off?” he asks.

“Yep. Needed it gone. Growing it back was a pain, but it was good too. Felt like a fresh start even if it was a little like trying to get back to where I used to be,” Eddie explains. It makes sense, at least to Steve. “So, you know, I get it. But I also know you’d have another breakdown if we shaved it all off completely,” he jokes. It’s enough to drag a laugh out of him.

It’s very Eddie, baring his soul while he’s helping to bandage a lost sheep, and Steve wishes he had the words to say how grateful he is. Instead, he just takes the towel Eddie throws at him and the soft, well worn clothes Eddie sets on the counter. He showers, pulls on a shirt for a band he doesn’t recognize, and breathes out a sigh of relief when the vice around his body finally, finally, comes loose.

Eddie doesn’t wait long once he sits down on the couch, immediately flopping back to use his thighs as a pillow while he goes back to strumming along to the music in his head. It’s a quiet moment, a safe moment. He doesn’t even notice as his head drops back to rest on the cushions, his breathing slowing as he finally feels light enough to rest.

Later, he’ll wake up with their positions reversed, with Eddie playing with his hair in a way that’ll make his brain turn into mush. Later, he’ll gather the courage to finally stop toeing that line of friendship and more that he and Eddie have been dancing on for so long now. Later, Eddie will hear everything that’s been in his head and will hold him down while he kisses every last insecurity and promises that it’s only made him more obsessed with him.

Maybe that won’t fix the insecurities, but that doesn’t mean Eddie isn’t going to make it very clear just how happy he is loving Steve exactly as he is at every point in time.

Because it doesn’t happen suddenly.

Or, it does, but it’s a long time coming.

[write-or-run]

Danny Phantom in YJ but its ALL of team phantom

so this idea assumes DP is set in the DC verse and Danny's identity is revealed to the town during Reign Storm. His parents accept him like in the series finale, and the town, grateful for being saved from Pariah Dark, has an unspoken rule not to sell out Danny's secret identity to outsiders (mainly the GIW).

All the Amity Park vigilantes are working together at this point, but the public dosent really know it. Now that they're no longer hunting their son's alter ego the Fenton parents continue doing their thing, but now they make gear specifically for their ghost son to use without it backfiring on him (mostly). Jazz gets some of the ghosts to do interviews and eventually branches out into ghost psychology, something that her parents had neglected to study before now.

Danny, Sam, and Tucker continue ghost wrangling, but the supervision of the Fentons proves to be surprisingly helpful and the trio finds that they have more time to pursue other things (space, eco-witchcraft, and tech respectively). Tucker and Sam's parents are on the fence about their friendship with Danny. Angela and Maurice Foley are talked down from their worries after Tucker points out that the dangerous ghost stuff will happen regardless, so he might as well have the local vigilante on speed dial. Jeremy and Pamela Manson are harder to convince. They're used to having to pick their battles when it comes to Sam's goth, ultra recyclo vegetarian lifestyle, but on this they're not budging. They try to restrict Sam's contact with her friends and even go so far as to get a restraining order. Sam is increasingly fed up with their controlling behavior and, inspired by the Infi-Map, Sam breaks into the ghost zone in search of an artifact that would give her power so that she would never be trapped. Obviously Danny goes in after her, but then Sam's parents storm the Fenton house to take back their daughter and accidentally fall into the ghost portal, so Tucker takes the Specter Speeder and goes in after them. By the time the Fenton Parents return home everyone is back and the Manson's have given in to Sam's determination.

Valerie Gray initially continues to operate on her own. She maintains a frenemy status with Team Phantom due to her mixed feelings on Danny's civilian and ghostly personas, between that and the revelation of Vlad's villainous career Valerie's worldview is really shaken. She throws herself into vigilantism and hers dad gets really concerned when Valerie starts running herself ragged. In a last ditch effort to make her stop Damon Grey goes to the towns ghost hunting experts and begs them for an intervention. The Fenton parents agree and the three of them sit down with her for a talk about safe ghost hunting practices. This fails to stop her, but the Fentons refuse to give up on the 'Junior Ghost Hunter' and start inviting themselves on her patrols .Things come to a head when Dark Danny travels back in time to ensure his creation. Seeing how desperate Danny is to avoid becoming evil, and fighting alongside the Fentons convinces Valerie that its okay to count on others and slow down and take care of herself. (and also the Fentons are low-key inescapable)

Pariah Dark's incursion through Amity Park was the last straw needed for the Infinity Realms to start really breaking into reality. There was already some leakage (see lazarus pits) but this was the last straw for a problem that has been brewing for thousands of years now. Life in Amity Park continues normally, because to them ghost stuff is normal, but for the rest of the world its a different matter.

The Justice League is going around dealing with the sudden influx of supernatural nonsense. The ghost attacks range from minor nuisance to city-wide threat. The magic leaugers are trying to find the source, but it's Batman who identifies Amity Park as 'Ground Zero' for ghostly nonsense.

also something something Amanda Waller and the GIW either team up or become rivals.

I'm literally writing this while waiting to board my flight so I'll try and flesh out this AU later

[shuenkio]

My solace | 🎞️ yjw

Paring: Jungwon x male!reader

Genre: Fluffy

Cw: nothing but somehow a demand?

Summary: You finally reunited with your solace

Non proof read/wc: 0.9

Eng is not my 1st lang.

When we first met Jungwon, he was a baby, and everything that he did was give a cuteness-aggressive trigger whenever he moved.

He's smaller than most, with a round face that’s irresistibly endearing. His cat-like eyes gleam with playful mischief, making him so adorable in your eyes that you can’t help but consider him your very own little kitty.

Forever won't last being together as friends with Jungwon; you're changing schools because of your father's work, which is at the side of the city. It's kind of sad being separated from him, but before you left, you gave him a friendship bracelet as a memory.

If he missed you, all he needed to do was look at this colorful bracelet wrapped around his wrist, which could bring him back to those old days. He did cry, but he had to let you go.

Nobody would want to separate from their own friend, especially a best friend. Nevertheless, for now, he can't do anything about it, and he hopes that he will pass by you in the future.

As you hug him for what feels like the last time, his warmth envelops you. His familiar scent lingers, and you can feel a slight tremble in his embrace. This hug, this fleeting moment, holds all the words you can't say.

"We'll meet again, right?"

"Again, we will meet, Jungwon!"

"Swear it!"

"I swear, Jungwon, I hope we'll be this close again in the future!" That was the last conversation with him, which you're cherishing the most.

He is nothing but a gift from heaven that God sent to you, yet you still can't keep him and have to leave. A Memory.

Five years later, you started your life as a junior at Seoul University. It's taking blood, sweat, and tears to get in because you're applying as a scholarship student.

The sun rises up from its sleep, and your alarm clock starts to roar at six a.m. in the morning. Wasting no time, you began to prepare yourself for your new adventure as a student at the university, which will give you a different experience from school.

While making your way to the office for your schedule for the day, you accidentally bump into a taller guy. You quickly apologize for your clumsy behavior; however, when he's response back, his voice feels familiar as it's clicked in your brain and signals you to lift up your head instead of bowing down your head. You look up to see that it's your long-lost friend, Yang Jungwon.

Eventually, when you meet someone who was once your solace back in your childhood, you are left speechless, unable to find the right word to say, as if a cat got your tongue.

Jungwon didn't hesitate to show you the friendship bracelet that you left for him as the last thing for your relationship together, pulling out his hand from his pocket and rolling his wrist for you to see along with the brightest smile you've been craving.

You throw yourself on him, wrapping your small figure around his torso desperately. You're still processing what was going on, but one thing you knew was that he's Jungwon.

Jungwon is caught off guard by your sudden move as he stumbles a little, yet he still lets you hug him, and he returns back with his hand tracing down your back, too.

"I miss you, Jungone," you mumble under your throat as you still have your hand on him. You didn't care if people were staring; being reunited with someone you love is not something you should be embarrassed of.

You continue to nuzzle your face on his chest, trying to inhale his Jonh baby powder scent, but it's like it's gone, replaced by a manly perfume instead.

"I missed you too, m/n; we finally meet again!" He flashed a smile, and his dimples were still visible on both of his cheeks, giving you a nice chill that sent down to your spine in realization. Nothing had changed at all except his height.

"You gotten so big? I thought you'd stay a baby forever." You protest, narrowing your eyes in disbelief. He was at your nose height the last time you saw him, but now he's taller than you.

"People growing up, m/n, and so do I; nothing to be surprised off of you." Jungwon is giggling at your comment while he crosses his hand around his packing chest; clearly, he's working out.

"But I still see you as a baby; I'm older than you!!" You respond by placing your palm on your hip and giving him an angry look as a joke.

"Oh, shall I call you Hyung then? Lol" "Ashh noo, just call me by my name, hyung feel... old. "

Both of you are having a great time having a conversation together, with your reunited again as your promise in a delightful feeling that intertwined once more.

This time you won't leave this comfort zone ever again; you are determined to stay here, where you called home with your friend's presence, who's more than just a friend in your eyes.

"Don't leave me again, will you, m/n?" Jungwon unexpectedly said, out of topic, as he looked at you with a serious yet soft gaze, This is not a favor but a demand. You know it every time he speaks in this tone. But you don't mind about it; you will stay no matter what.

"I won't; I will never leave you again. Jungwon—"

"Never again, my solace." 

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥🗣️ crd to all pics&dividers

[sunelia]

GETO X READER Autumn Leaves

pairings: geto suguru x gn!reader

cw: gender neutral reader - angst - break up - hurt

synopsis: As the end of fall marks the arrival of winter, leaves start to fall to the rainy ground. These leaves, brimming with life and color, end their cycle dull, with no warmth left anymore. What would happen if your relationship with Geto unfolded this way?

word count: 980

We're in the heart of autumn, mid-November. The remaining vibrant leaves were slipping from the branches of the trees, blending with their dull counterparts on the ground. The rain is pounding down hard cleaning and preparing the ground for winter.

My heart was heavy as I prepared to see my boyfriend Geto. We've been together for three years now, three years filled with laughter, happiness, tears, and love. Everything seemed to be going well, at least from my perspective. Our future held so many promises, reaffirming our commitment to each other. But everything changed with a single message.

Geto texted me, asking to meet up at his place saying, "We need to talk, please come by at 7p.m." The type of message that most people feared and makes your heart sink was sitting in my inbox. I was so taken aback that it left me speechless.

As if on autopilot, I made my way to my room to prepare. I gently touched the silver ring on my finger, a concerned expression on my face. With a trembling hand, I grabbed my bag and slowly opened the door of my apartment, ready to leave.

Before I locked the door, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a few seconds, knowing that when I returned, I would be a completely different person.

The journey seemed long, tiring, and nerve-wracking. Rain poured down on my black coat as the sky turned darker. The warmth of my hood contrasted with the cold of the water and the wind on my face.

I finally reached Geto's building and dialed his name on the intercom. A repetitive sound echoed until it was suddenly interrupted by Geto.

"It's me." I replied.

"It’s open." he said.

As the door to the building swung open, my heart started pounding rapidly. Every step I took seemed to echo loudly, turning what should have been a short stroll to the second floor into a challenging climb up a mountain. The emptiness around me only intensified the impact of each step.

When I finally made it to his floor, I found his apartment door wide open and him leaning against it. I gave him a little smile, which he returned. I couldn't decipher his expression.

"Come in." he said as I stepped into the living room, guided by his hand resting on the small of my back.

"One latte I guess?" He suggested as I took off my coat.

"Yes, I'd like that please."

I sat down on his couch and looked around. Nothing seemed to have changed since my last visit. I heard the sound of the dishwasher and the coffee machine. Geto came out of the kitchen holding my coffee. He carefully placed it on the table and sat down facing me.

There’s a long moment of silence.

Something had changed in the air. The atmosphere was heavy and electric at the same time. A weight seemed to rest on my shoulders, compressing my lungs, almost suffocating me. I felt like I was being sucked into the sofa, like I was falling into the void. The only source of warmth that could calm me was the cup of coffee. But I could tell what it was by the look on his face. It was soft, sad and yet firm.

"y/n I-"

I stopped him.

"I think I know what you're getting at." I said with a sad smile.

He didn't react at all.

I continued. "Your fleeing eyes, this sudden message... I know you well Geto."

He took a deep breath and reached for my hand.

"I am not happy anymore, I know I have so much affection for you y/n, but this feeling is not as deep as love anymore."

My heart was beating faster and my eyes were watering. I couldn't speak, but so many thoughts flooded my mind. Looking at his hand, I noticed that he was no longer wearing the promise ring we had exchanged weeks ago. His finger was free, ready to move forward, ready to receive another person's precious promises.

Pulling my hand away from him triggered feelings of anger and sadness. I could not stop the silent tears from falling down my cheeks. He looked devastated as his eyes filled with tears too.

"How long have you felt like this Geto?"

"Several weeks."

I see, he must have felt trapped in this relationship.

"I'm sorry y/n, so sorry. I couldn't keep my promise…" he said, tears streaming down his face.

I took the beautiful ring off my finger and placed it in the palm of his hand, which I then closed.

"Thanks for telling me, I hope you’ll find what you're looking for."

He took me in his arms. I couldn't stop my tears as I laid my head on his shoulder. I could hear him crying too as he stroked my head like the old days.

We stayed like this for a few minutes, then, I decided to take my hands off him. I took one last look at his delicate eyes, his lips, his pointy nose, his long beautiful black hair.

"I have to go, Geto." I said, my face just inches from his.

"I know, I just can't let you go."

"You said you wanted to end it, please don't hurt me any more." I begged, my voice trembling.

He nodded and let me get up, gather my things and speak to him one last time.

"Take care of yourself." I said.

He cried. "Take care of yourself too y/n."

I slammed the door and ran down the stairs at a rapid speed. The rain on my face mixed with my tears as I walked away from the building. It finally hit me that three years of happiness had now faded away just like the dead leaves of autumn.

Hope you liked it! Check out my masterlist for more!

Line divider gradient fall by rockthornesgraphics

Line divider autumn leaves by firefly-graphics

sunelia

[phospheneics]

"The very first night"

synopsis: tomura shigaraki x reader one shot in which he is your ex situationship and you're a hero.

a/n: You two are the same age. In the flashback, you're both 18. Your quirk allows you to read memories whenever you lock eyes with someone. Even the deepest most hidden memories.

wc: 1099

Rain fell steadily all around you as you stood on the sidewalk. The streets of Musutafu were nearly silent tonight. The city lights formed a blur as you looked up at them, the rain obscuring your vision.

Tomura Shigaraki. This name would instill fear in anyone else. But to you, it held an entirely different meaning. Though you stood on different sides of this war. In the end, it was you who made the decision to stop seeing him. You couldn't continue betraying everything you stood for as a hero.

The first night you spent together was etched into your memory with painful clarity. The way he looked at you, as if you were the only person who truly saw him, who understood the broken pieces hidden beneath his rough exterior. You never forgot the way his touch, so often deadly, became tender against your skin. It was in those quiet moments you spent together, that's where you found a safe haven.

Flashback:

You were a third year student at UA High. One evening, after a full day of classes and training, you went out for a walk at dark. The rain unexpectedly started pouring down on you. With every shop in the area closed for the night, you had no choice but to seek shelter in the uninhibited building.

The rain poured down harder as you peeked out the window, hoping it'd let up soon. The sudden noise from the shadows makes you jump. You instinctively reach for your weapon, clutching it.

A figure emerges from the darkness. The figure of someone hadn't recognized. A villain, maybe? He looks a little young, though, you think to yourself. The moon shone through the window and reflected off of his crimson eyes. Eventually, he spoke up.

"I'm not looking for a fight right now. Go away." He announced, his voice tired.

Your body stayed still. You had to urge to flee or even fight if needed, but something in his demeanor made you stay put. You take notice of the harsh injury on his side. His shirt was ripped and bloody.

"My name is Y/N, what's yours?" You ask him in a gentle tone, trying not to startle him.

"Tomura..." He mutters. "My name is Tomura Shigaraki."

You cautiously drop your weapon and look up at him. "What happened to you?" You question, your gaze softening.

"It doesn't matter." He answered defensively, instinctively holding his side. He doesn't even bother to look at you.

"I can help you with that if you want, I have a few first aid supplies in my bag." You insist.

He looks at you for a moment, your eyes finally meeting. His intense gaze lingered on you even after you abruptly looked away. For a moment, the entire world outside of this decripit building seemed to come to a stop. In the depth of his eyes, you caught a glimpse of his life. You had seen the hidden pain he kept beneath, his fears, and his darkest moments all flashed before you when you had activated your quirk. You were granted an insight into his soul.

A surge of sympathy washed over you. You found the courage to meet his soft gaze again. You eventually opened up your bag and began to clean his wound. You continue to bandage him up.

"There ya go! All done." You say, giving him a small, reassuring smile.

He looks at his bandaged wound, admiring your work. "You're pretty good at this," he compliments. "It's actually pretty impressive."

You felt your heart skip a beat upon hearing his words. "It comes with the training I get at school," you tell him.

He glances towards your first aid bag and sees the "UA" emblem on it subtly. He finally makes the connection. Realization had striked him. You were a hero. He kept quiet about it for the time being, but you had realized he was a villain way before he realized you were a hero.

When he finally looks up, he says, "You know, I wasn't expecting a hero to be the one to patch me up.."

You were surprised hearing this, so he had figured out you were a hero. "Well..heroes are meant to help anyone in need, even if that's a...." You pause. "Regardless of the circumstances." You finish your sentence.

His expression had visibly softened towards you. "Thank you.." He mutters. His gratitude made obvious through his gaze.

"You're welcome," you reply, keeping your eyes locked on him.

The rain had lightened up. You packed up your bag and got ready to go back to your dorm. Before walking out the door, you turn to wave at him.

"Goodbye, Tomura." You smile at him and disappear before he had a chance to return your goodbye.

End of flashback

Your phone buzzes. You sigh and pull it out of your pocket to check it. The notification was from him-- Tomura. You hadn't spoken to him for 2 years now, why was he contacting you? Your heart sank to your stomach as you clicked the message.

"Hey... can we talk?" It read.

You pause a moment, wondering how you should respond.

"Sure, when nd where?" You type back to him as the rain continued to fall softly around you. The droplets start to collect on your phone screen.

Your phone buzzes again. "Now." It read.

You glance up from your phone screen to see him just feet away, in front of you. His eyes met yours, and you stopped yourself from activating your quirk on him. His eyes held a vulnerability you had never seen before.

As he stood before you, his gaze searched you. Without a single word, he closed the distance between you two. He leaned in and kissed you. His cold, damp lips instantly became warm as they met yours. Your heartbeats fell in sync, and he leaned in further to you. His kiss deepened.

He pulled you closer desperately as he explored your body with his fingertips. His delicate touch resembled a sculptor gently, adding the finishing touches to his work. Each caress was deliberate and precise.

The rain continued to pour down on you two. He pulls away for a moment.

"I missed you so much," he whispers.

"I missed you too, Tomura." You reply in a gentle voice.

In that moment, the past dissipated. None of it mattered anymore. In the quiet intensity, it felt as if your souls were intertwined. You both reconnected in a way that echoed the raw emotion of the very first night you had spent together.

[ericshoney]

First investigation ~ Brother!Colby Brock

Summary: You finally get the chance to go with your brother and Sam on a paranormal investigation.

Warnings: usual swearing, ghosts, spirits, crying, targeting

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What's up guys it's Sam and Colby!"

You smiled watching your brother and Sam introduce the video. You were very excited as this was the first time you were finally allowed to go along with an investigation.

"Today we have a very special guest! Introducing Y/n Brock!" Sam shouted as you jumped into frame and waved at the camera.

"Hey guys! I am finally here for the good shit!" You exclaimed.

"Yes guys, my seventeen year old sister is finally here to go explore with us." Colby said.

"I'm excited." You replied.

"How much of a believer are you?" Sam questioned.

"Like probably a nine." You answered.

"What would make you a ten?" Colby then asked.

"If something spoke directly to me." You replied.

"Well this is an abandoned hospital, let's see what happens." Sam said.

You nodded as you all started exploring. The first couple hours you didn't get much as you were just getting used to being around the place. But once the equipment comes out, you start to feel different. Like someone was watching you.

You stood watching as Sam set up the rem pod, you holding the camera for him and Colby. As you did, you felt something on the back of your neck, making you flinch.

"What?" Colby called, seeing your sudden movement.

"So...Something was on my neck." You replied.

"Like what?" Sam asked.

"Like....a breath. I don't know if it was just the wind." You replied, trying to find a excuse.

Just then, the rem pod went off and nobody was standing near it. You jumped slightly as Colby took the camera from you.

"If there is someone here with us you can go up to any of the devices and give them a touch." Sam said, his words make you giggle slightly.

Then the rem pod went off again, along with a torch you set up. You then felt your hair being pulled.

"Colby get off." You said, thinking it was him.

"I'm not touching you." He said.

You looked at him and saw he had both hands on the camera. You then felt it again.

"Something keeps pulling my hair." You mentioned.

"You can touch any of the equipment around but not us." Sam instructed.

The equipment kept going off all around you, letting you all ask some questions. You then decided to explore a bit more before finding an active spot and doing the Estes method.

"Now since the spirits seem to like Y/n the most, why not have her do the Estes method!" Sam cheered.

"Only if you want too, we can do it if not." Colby said, knowing you had been a target for a bit, his protective side kicking in more.

"I'll do it." You said.

You sat on the floor as Sam tied the blindfold around your head. You placed the headphones on and held the radio. Colby stood behind you as Sam set the camera up in front of you.

"If there is anyone here with us you can talk through this device." Sam said loudly.

It was quiet for a moment, before the boys heard a knock. They looked over and then you spoke.

"Here."

"Who is here with us?" Colby asked.

"Many."

"There are many people with us." Sam said.

"Stay."

"We are here for a bit." Colby responded.

"Her."

"Her? As is Y/n?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

"What about her?" Colby questioned.

"Stay forever."

"No way." Sam gasped and looked at Colby.

"Fuck." You shouted, throwing the headphones off and removing the blindfold.

"What did it say?" Colby asked worried.

"It said my name." You answered, a few tears in your eyes.

"Okay I think that's enough for today. Let's get out of here." Sam said.

You and Colby nodded, your brother wrapping a secure arm around your shoulder. You knew it would be a long time before you even thought about doing another investigation again.

[graysexualcreature]

before i go into this post i should be specific: i am a matpat fan. i have watched matpat for a long time. therefore, i am an inherently biased perspective.

something i will never understand is the visceral hate for matpat. like mfs will act like they have the biggest slam dunk ever and then pull out something from 10 years ago. like yes there was some questionable stuff back then but people can change as time moves forward. bro is just living his life you don’t have to like his theories you don’t have to watch his videos nobody is sitting you down and tying you to a chair and forcing you to watch his videos. you dont have to make up reasons that you hate him you dont have to go digging for old shit. you also dont have to viscerally hate him because he made a theory and got it wrong i fucking guarantee if he was a much smaller creator nobody would be dogpiling him the way he gets dogpiled.

also: the people who think he is the only one who did the research and work for ALL OF THE THEORY CHANNELS for YEARS is just insane to me. I guarantee you he has a whole ass team for each channel he’s not doing this shit at lightning speed if you see something that looks like it might be a stolen theory then maybe you shouldn’t pin it on one member of an entire team. matpat does not have magic superpowers. calm the fuck down. when a car breaks down you don’t immediately blame the metal shell that surrounds the inner workings. matpat has mentioned MULTIPLE TIMES that scripts and theories are a multiple person effort that involves a lot of input from multiple people. His earlier videos are definitely different but when you look at something from more recent times and try to say that he is the sole creator you just sound fucking ridiculous.

people make mistakes. everybody makes mistakes, but when the internet comes into the equation and stuff gets preserved all of a sudden it’s as if everybody must be infallible as a human being.

also: the amount of rage people have towards him over theories is fucking insane im sorry. i understand being serious about a topic but putting visceral hatred onto a human being who is just as human as you are is not the answer. if the theory is that bad you can easily just change somebody who believes it's mind using evidence he's not some omnipotent being who is brainwashing people into liking his theories. If somebody isn't willing to listen to you then that's a them problem not a matpat problem. Also, this stuff does not matter when you step outside and enter the real world i guarantee nobody in the local park is going to be as worried abt video game theories as you are.