#to be watched on repeat for the rest of time

[cinnahoons]

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐘𝐍‎𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄 ;; " 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 ! "

// 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 ‘𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽’ 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 ✧

ㅤ( 𝟤𝟣𝟨𝟣 ) fluff, f!reader, established relationships, flirting, lots of offended boyfriends lol ── 𝖡𝖮𝖮𝖪𝖲𝖧𝖤𝖫𝖥 ｡⠀

✶ LEE HEESEUNG 

it’s late, and you’re both sprawled out across heeseung’s bed, legs tangled somewhere in the sheets. the glow of your phone screen keeps casting soft shadows across his face. he’s got his arm resting loosely over your stomach, his thumb tracing thoughtless circles just above the hem of your shirt. the soft scent of detergent fills your senses, and you fight the urge to burrow your face into his skin. 

heeseung’s half-awake. he scrolls with one hand, his lashes low and mouth parted slightly as you shift beside him and prop your phone up against a pillow. you hit record without ceremony, turning just enough to smile at the camera.

“just winding down with my current boyfriend,” you murmur, light and easy.

there’s a pause, in which he blinks a couple times and then turns his head toward you: eyes soft, expression unreadable, his thumb still idly moving against your side.

“…current?” he repeats, voice rough with sleep.

you hum. he holds your gaze for a long moment; not offended, not jealous, just faintly amused. then he lets out a breathy laugh, shifting to rest on one elbow. the blanket falls slightly off his shoulder.

“huh,” he says. “current’s a weird word for someone who keeps stealing my clothes.”

you grin at him. “they’re comfy.”

“mm.” he pauses like he’s considering something. “so is exclusivity.”

you laugh, nudging his shoulder, and he’s still watching you with a lazy, half-lidded look, the kind  he gets when he’s on the edge of falling asleep and still doesn’t want to miss anything.

“you want me to say last boyfriend?” you ask.

he shrugs, but his fingers tap twice against your wrist, all soft and rhythmic. “you don’t have to.”

“but you’d like it.”

“...i’d like it,” he says, simple and sure.

your smile softens. heeseung shifts closer again, pressing a kiss just under your jaw before settling back into the pillow, his voice quiet as he adds:

“just in case you forget where home is.”

✶ PARK JONGSEONG 

you’re leaning against the kitchen island while jay finishes plating up dinner, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up and gold ring glinting on his hand as he reaches for the pepper grinder.

your phone is already recording before he glances up, catching your eye.

“filming again?” he asks, amused.

“mhm,” you hum. “just getting a clip with my current boyfriend.”

he freezes. not just a little pause—a full on, blank stare. he doesn’t even blink.

you watch, holding back a laugh, as his expression flickers through at least five emotions.

then, very seriously: “you mean husband.”

“husband?” you laugh, incredulous. “you’re my current boyfriend.”

jay sets the pepper grinder down with surgical precision, walking over to you like a man on a mission.

“say it with me,” he starts, holding up one finger. “H.”

“jay—”

“U.”

you’re giggling now, but he’s persistent, stepping closer, one hand bracing on the counter beside your waist.

“come on. you wanna do this on camera? let’s do it right. say: husband. i’ll even do the dishes.”

you raise a brow. “just for that?”

he leans in, voice low against your ear. “also because i love you more than anyone on earth and your mom already likes me. but mostly the dishes.”

✶ SIM JAKE 

it’s golden hour, the sky split open in orange and peach, and jake’s standing barefoot on the patio with one hand on his hip and the other brandishing a pair of tongs like a weapon. he’s got an apron on and his sleeves are pushed up just enough to show the veins on his forearm. the air is filled with the tantalizing scent of grilled meat and seasoning, a light breeze fluttering your hair.

you’re sitting on a cooler, filming him from behind your lemonade.

“just grilling with my current boyfriend,” you say casually, zooming in on the way he flips a burger. he glances over his shoulder, unblinking.

“yep,” jake says, cool as ever. “me and my girlfriend at the moment.”

you pause, and he flashes an innocent smile at the camera. “she’s on a trial run. depends on how these burgers turn out.”

“oh my god.”

“what?” he shrugs, teasing.

you try to act annoyed,  but he’s already walking over with a plate of food, nudging your knee with his hip so you’ll make room for him. he sits beside you, setting a plate down in front of you. “you get the first one. for old time’s sake.”

you stare at him, unimpressed. “we’re still dating.”

“for now,” he says, ignoring his own words and biting into your burger.

“you’re insufferable.”

he wipes his mouth with a paper towel, grin crooked. “but still your boyfriend… currently.”

✶ PARK SUNGHOON 

you’re both in the bathroom getting ready to go out. the mirror lights are on full blast, hair tools scattered across the counter, and the air smells like his cologne and your perfume layered on top of each other. he’s standing behind you in a crisp button-down, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve with impeccable focus.

you set your phone up on the edge of the sink, press record, and lean slightly into the frame with a small smile.

“filming a quick ootd with my current boyfriend,” you say casually, tilting the camera to catch both of you in the mirror.

you’re smiling. he’s not. his fingers pause on the second cuff, gaze flicking up to the mirror. not at the camera, not at you, just a slow, almost imperceptible blink like he’s just been personally wronged by god.

you try to stifle a laugh. “hoon?”

no answer. he inhales slowly through his nose, finishes the cuff, and then continues his routine like nothing happened. except now, he’s noticeably quieter and calmer, almost eerily composed.

“...what?” you prompt again, already giggling. “you’re not gonna say anything?”

he finally speaks, his voice polite: “you’re gonna want to run that back.”

you lose it.

cut to a second clip.

same mirror, same lighting. but this time, sunghoon’s standing closer, arms crossed loosely over his chest, one brow lifted at the camera. you hold the phone up properly now, barely containing your smile. “filming a quick ootd with my husband,” you say sweetly.

he nods once, solemnly. you turn the camera toward him. “anything you want to say?”

he looks directly into the lens, a satisfied smile gracing his lips.

“just that i accept your apology. and that i’ll be changing the dinner reservation name to mr. and mrs. park.”

✶ KIM SUNOO 

you’re curled up together on the couch in your usual configuration: legs tangled under a shared blanket, your foot tucked beneath his thigh, his head propped up on a throw pillow that he fluffed to perfection before sitting down. the TV is playing something you’ve both already seen three times, which means sunoo is only half paying attention, scrolling his phone with idle little pouts at whatever he’s reading, his fingertips occasionally brushing yours like he just wants to make sure you’re still there.

he looks peaceful, relaxed, and completely unsuspecting. it’s perfect. 

you smile to yourself and lean over slightly, propping your phone up against the base of a candle on the coffee table. you clear your throat just enough to get his attention.

“just relaxing with my current boyfriend!” you coo.

you don’t even get to blink before sunoo’s head snaps up so fast you swear you almost get second-hand whiplash. “current boyfriend?”

you nod. he lets out an indignant gasp so dramatic it startles the cat lounging on the arm of your couch.

“current?”

“yeah,” you say sweetly. “just for now.”

he yanks your phone from where it’s sitting and stares into the camera like he’s on a reality show. “for the record, i’d like to say i’m being emotionally manipulated.”

“sunoo—”

“no. no. because i have done nothing but love her. i let her wear my moisturizer. my laneige. the expensive one. i call her pretty every day.” he turns to you now, eyes wide with betrayal. “do you know how many people want to be me?”

you’re laughing so hard you nearly fall off the couch. he reluctantly lets you pull him back, though not before delivering one final glance at the phone and whispering:

“delete it. or caption it current boyfriend who deserves better.” 

✶ YANG JUNGWON 

your room is quiet except for the soft shuffle of notebook pages and the occasional scratch of your highlighter dragging across text. the two of you are camped out on the floor, your legs draped over his as he leans back on one hand, casually quizzing you on terms you definitely should’ve memorized three days ago.

he’s halfway through peeling the corner of a granola bar wrapper when you set your phone on the edge of your nightstand, screen angled just barely toward the two of you. it’s subtle. he clocks it, but doesn’t say anything. you click record.

“study night with my current boyfriend,” you announce softly, eyes still on your notes.

jungwon doesn’t miss a beat. he finishes unwrapping the granola bar, breaks it in half, and offers you the bigger piece without looking up.

“hmm,” he hums. “temporary. that’s new.”

you glance at him. he’s still reading over your notes, impassive, like you didn’t just call him disposable to the internet.

“nothing to say about that?” you tease, poking at his knee with your foot.

he finally looks up, entirely unaffected, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly.

“should i be worried?” he asks, tone light, eyes sharp. “is this the part where you trade me in for someone who doesn’t double check your citations?”

you laugh, but he’s already pulling a highlighter from the pile and uncapping it for you.

“no, really,” he continues, gesturing toward your notes. “write that down. that’s good. current boyfriend. sounds professional. clinical. a little sterile, but i’m sure devon will love it.”

“who the hell is devon?”

“your next boyfriend,” he replies easily. “hopefully he likes sour gummies. i just trained you out of the orange ones.”

you’re already losing it, giggling into your sleeve, and he just shakes his head, flipping back to your vocab list like this is all part of a recurring bit he’s well-versed in.

“let me know if he needs my login for the quizlet,” he adds absently. “seems rude to leave him hanging.”

you reach for his arm, pulling him toward you with a laugh, and he lets you, leaning in close with that same unbothered grin.

“mm,” he murmurs, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “current boyfriend, huh?”

you grin at him. “maybe.”

he leans in, tapping his pen lightly against your forehead.

“then i guess i better make you fall in love with me again tonight.”

✶ NISHIMURA RIKI 

he’s deep into a match when you come in, his legs folded pretzel-style in his desk chair, controller balanced loosely between his hands. he’s got his headset pushed down around his neck so you can hear both the game audio and his occasional muttered commentary. the screen casts a glow across his face, all cool blues and blinking reds, but he still looks impossibly pretty like this. focused, relaxed, and completely in his element.

you snake your arms around his shoulders from behind, pressing your cheek to the side of his head. he doesn’t startle, just shifts slightly to let you in closer before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, tapping something on the controller with the practiced ease of someone who could do this with his eyes closed.

“say hi,” you whisper near his ear, already angling your phone to catch both of you in the shot. “this is my current boyfriend.”

he glances at the screen, grinning without missing a beat. “yo.”

you snort, turning to look at him. he catches your movement in the corner of his eye.

“what? you think you’re slick?”

you hum innocently. he turns his head a little more now, squinting at you. “fine. run that back. say final.”

you laugh, already shaking your head. “final?”

“i’m not getting replaced,” he murmurs, mock-offended.

you try to answer, but the laughter bubbles up too fast to stop. he clicks something on his controller, dies instantly in-game, and turns to face you immediately. he points a finger at your phone camera, which is still recording.

“hey. first and final.”

you laugh. “riki—” 

“no, no. it’s fine.” he leans back dramatically, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “i’ll just reinvent myself real quick. learn french or something. start doing pilates. maybe become emotionally unavailable and change my name to something mysterious like... lucien.”

you snort, forehead pressing into the curve of his shoulder. “you already dye your hair every six weeks. you don’t need to be more mysterious.”

“exactly,” he says, with the kind of confident shrug that suggests this was his point all along. “i’m the final boyfriend. nobody’s falling for your little prank.”

© cinnahoons please do not steal, plagiarize, or reupload my work.

[a-pute11as]

serendipity - kika nazareth

word count - 6.9k | summary - a ray of sunshine stumbles into your quiet cafe one morning, with heart shaped latte art and the added bonus of gaining a new english teacher, she decides to make it her everyday stop, even when your ex decides to pull a stunt. part 2 coming soon!

warnings - mentions of toxic relationships - please take care of yourself <3

-

the small bell attached to the door dinged as it was pushed open, alerting you to a new customer entering the cafe. 

“buenos días” you greeted, not yet turning around, still busy cleaning the coffee machine behind the counter, “qué le gustaría?” (good morning, what would you like?)

when you turned around you were greeted with someone who looked like she’d stepped out of a different world and landed, somehow perfectly, in the middle of your quiet café. she was tall, lean but strong, wearing a matching hoodie and joggers like she’d just come from some kind of gym session. her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her scrunchie wrapped round her hair,  a few strands curling around her face. her eyes met yours with the kind of focus that made it feel like the rest of the room had gone quiet.

there was a little half-smile playing at the corner of her mouth, like she’d caught you off guard and knew it. not cocky, just effortlessly aware. you didn’t recognize her, but something about her made you feel like you were meant to know who she was. maybe it was the barcelona logo that sat prominently on her clothes, yet you still couldn’t place her name. 

“uhhh hablas catalán?” she asked, her fingers tapping on the counter as she looked up at the menu boards that hung above your head. (do you speak catalan?)

“no, lo siento, solo inglés o español.” you smiled lightly. (no, sorry, only english or spanish.)

“that’s perfect!” she beamed, “can i practice my english on you?”

you raised your eyebrows in slight shock. since moving to barcelona you had had a lot of english customers, mostly ones that butchered every kind of pronunciation when ordering, yet someone who seemed to be a spanish natural wanting to speak english? that was new. “i think that’s the first time anyone has ever asked me that.”

a grin tugged at her lips as she laughed slightly at your response, “well i need to get better so my friends stop bullying how i say words.”

“your pronunciation?” you questioned, tilting your head slightly.

“yes that! pronunciation” she copied, “but i’m not good at saying that word.” 

you let out a soft laugh, charmed with her effort and determination, “you actually said it pretty well.”

she smiled at you over the counter, a genuine smile, “thank you, i’ve been watching a lot of tiktoks.”

“that's the best way to learn,” you agreed, “so english practice, what’s your order?”.

she took a moment, scanning the board again like it was a test she wanted to pass. “i will have… an oat milk flat white, please.”

you blinked, “that was pretty perfect, have you been practicing on someone else?”

she grinned, visibly proud of herself. “i had to repeat it a lot in my head before i said it, but they make fun of how i say ‘flat.’ i say it like - ‘flaaat.’” she exaggerated the vowel, pulling a face as she did so.

you laughed slightly, her accent clear in her words, even when she tried to hide it, “well i think it was good.”

“thank you, my new english teacher.” she smiled, small dimples showing in her cheeks as she grinned. 

you turned around and started working on her order. you didn’t rush it, she was the only customer in the shop, other than your usual regular who sat reading his newspaper out the front. so you wanted to get it exactly right. the right measurement, temperature of milk and the prettiest heart in the middle of the latte.

as you perfected her coffee you heard her fingers tapping away at the counter, not impatiently, but curiously, as if she was wanting to say something but was working up the courage. 

“sooo, how long have you lived here?” she hummed, the finger tapping stopping briefly as she spoke. 

“not long, only 3 months.” you responded. 

“did you move here for erasmus?” she asked, curiosity clearly getting the better of her.

you laughed lightly, shaking your head, “no no, life just bought me out here.”

now wasn’t the time to tell kika your whole backstory about moving to barcelona. she didn’t know that you moved here to be with your girlfriend of 3 years just to find out she had been cheating on you for the last year and a half, and she certainly didn’t need to know about the way you walked in on her cheating on you on your birthday after only a month of living in barcelona. or even the way your now ex-girlfriend wouldn’t stop texting you, gaslighting you into thinking you were in the wrong, or the way she somehow saw every interaction you had with a pretty girl and accused you of doing the exact thing she had you crying over for weeks. 

things you would never do.

but, obviously, she didn’t need to know all that. 

you picked up a brown paper napkin, along with a nearby sharpie and as you placed her coffee gently on the counter, you scribbled something quickly before sliding it toward her with the drink.

in perfectly scripted handwriting, it read: “oat milk flat white – 10/10 english. very proud teacher.”

when you looked up, her eyes were already on the note. she let out a laugh, quiet and surprised, before biting her bottom lip in a way that made your stomach flip. 

“i need a picture of this.” she mumbled, pulling her phone out of her pocket as she positioned her coffee slightly diagonal to the note, before holding her phone above it. snapping the perfect picture before putting it back in her pocket. 

she picked up the napkin carefully, like it was something delicate.

“i’m gonna keep this,” she said, slipping it into the front pocket of her hoodie. “proof that i’m improving.”

“next time, there’s a sticker chart,” you teased, leaning your arms on the counter as you rested your chin on your hand.

“ohhh, dangerous,” she said with a mock-serious nod, “i love rewards.”

“you seem like someone who’s very competitive,” you said, watching the way her eyes crinkled with amusement.

“you have no idea,” she replied, grinning. “but i think i could be convinced to behave if the teacher is nice.”

you laughed, shaking your head, and tried not to let the flush in your cheeks betray you.

the quiet rhythm of the café wrapped around you both again. outside, the sun filtered through the windows, painting soft golden lines across her face. it was almost cinematic, the kind of moment you didn’t realize you’d remember until much later.

kika didn’t leave right away. she pulled out a chair at the table closest to the counter, and sat with her coffee in both hands.

you turned to rinse out a few mugs behind the bar, but her voice called your attention back after a few minutes.

“so, teacher,” she said, resting her chin in one hand while she swirled her coffee with the other, “is there an english word for when you meet someone and they make the whole day better?”

you glanced over at her, your heart beat suddenly picking up in pace, her question didn’t feel as casual as the way she asked it. it felt as if it was more than a question, more like a statement. 

“serendipity,” you said quietly.

she repeated the word under her breath, eyes locked on yours, “ser-en-dipity,” she murmured. “that’s pretty. i like that.”

you gave her a small smile. “me too.”

she stayed a while longer, asking little questions here and there between glances at her phone, how to pronounce ‘squirrel’,” why ‘laugh’ was spelled so weird, and whether ‘rain check’ actually had anything to do with weather.

by the time she stood to leave, she had her coffee finished, your napkin still tucked into her pocket and whilst you didn’t know her name, and she didn’t know yours, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time seeing her. 

“have a good day, teacher” she smiled, already backing toward the door, still facing you as she did

you just nodded, amused and curious and undeniably intrigued,  “you too a-plus.”

the bell over the door jingled again as she slipped out into the street, and you stood behind the counter, staring at the spot where she’d just been.

serendipity. 

-

the bell above the door gave its familiar chime, softer, but still altering. you looked up from the espresso machine just in time to see her step inside, hoodie up, shoulders hunched slightly against the early chill.

she caught your eye immediately and smiled, tired yet still warm. “morning, favourite teacher.”

“sucking up isn’t going to get you a better grade,” you teased, already reaching for a cup. “oat milk flat white?”

“please,” she said with a grateful sigh, leaning against the counter as she watched your every move.

“didn’t peg you as a morning person.” you spoke, pouring the espresso into the cup with precision.

“i’m not,” she murmured, rubbing a hand across her face, “had to be somewhere early, figured i’d get a head start.”

you handed over the coffee, and she took it like it was the best thing to happen to her all morning, “god, this is good,” she mumbled, cradling the cup like she was trying to soak up its energy.

she lingered by the counter, the steam from her cup curling around her face as she tilted her head, eyes still heavy with sleep but alert enough to hold your gaze.

“do you always make them this perfect?” she asked, sipping again, “or am i just the chosen one?”

you smiled, leaning on your forearms across from her, “maybe a bit of both.”

she chuckled under her breath, then glanced at the clock behind you, “we’ve only got a short lesson today, but i wanted you to remind me of that word from yesterday.”

you tilted your head, “which word?”

she thought for a moment before speaking, “the one about making my whole day better.”

you picked up a napkin, scribbling the word on it. 

serendipity.

you slid it toward her, “there, now you have study material.”

she read it slowly, then tucked it carefully into her jacket pocket, “you really are my favourite teacher.”

and before you could even respond, she was gone again, disappearing out into the quiet street with her coffee and your napkin, leaving only the soft jingle of the door behind her.

you were just finishing up the midday prep when your phone buzzed sharply in your apron pocket. the familiar weight of it shifted against your side, and you almost ignored it. your coworker had just come in to take over the afternoon shift, and you were minutes away from freedom.

but something about the timing felt... off.

you wiped your hands on a towel and slid your phone out.

bea.

you hesitated, thumb hovering, heart ticking up a notch. then tapped.

[1:56pm] bea - i saw you smiling at her today, again. you know the one with the tracksuit and the ponytail with the scrunchie. cute.

your breath caught mid-read.

[1:57pm] bea - you were definitely already talking to her before we broke up. i’m not as stupid as you think i am.funny how you used to look at me like that, too.

a chill threaded through you, even in the warmth of the café kitchen.

scanning the handful of tables still occupied, no one familiar, no one watching. yet you turned your body slightly, like instinctively shielding yourself.

[1:58pm] bea - especially after all those lies about me cheating on you, yet you were doing it the entire time.

you typed out a reply. deleted it. tried again. deleted that too.

you leaned against the edge of the counter, swallowing hard, your other hand instinctively gripping the rag you’d just used, knuckles turning white. the words stung, not because they were true, but because they echoed every twisted manipulation you’d grown used to for the last 3 years. every time she flipped things around. every time she made you feel like the villain.

you’d been the one who walked in on her. you’d been the one who moved out. you’d been the one who stayed quiet.

and now, here she was again, reappearing only when she sensed something slipping from her control. 

the afternoon air felt colder than you'd expected, grey clouds pressing low over the rooftops, filling the sky with the same dread that was filling your body. you pulled your jacket tighter, hands buried deep in your pockets, steps quick without even thinking about it.

you’d done this walk more times than you could count, the same route as usual, yet it didn’t feel as calming as it usually was.

your thoughts drifted to yesterday. the way her laugh had softened the rest of your day, or how her dimples stuck in your mind ever since you saw them. the way being near her felt easy and safe, as if you could simply exist without feeling shame. 

you didn’t even know the girls name, but bea didn’t need a name to twist something good into a weapon. a tool to belittle you, something to make you feel small. 

-

the bell above the door chimed, and you glanced up just in time to see kika walk in, yet there were two people just behind her. this time she wasn’t in the crested tracksuit you had seen her in previous days, rather a dark pair of jeans, a black hoodie and a red cap covering her head.

“good afternoon” kika greeted, smiling as her eyes met yours, “i’m surprised you’re still here.”

“it’s your lucky day then, my shift finishes at 3.” you grinned back to her.

“so we really got here just in time for the best coffee in all of barcelona,” she tilted her head slightly, leaning against the counter as usual, “and i bought friends this time.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at her compliment, cheesy but it still made your heart flutter.

“ah so you’re the famous nameless barista.” the shorter brunette smiled, her eyes racking you up and down momentarily. 

“famous?” your eyebrows raised, looking between your a+ student and the two new girls. 

“apparently your english lessons are as good as your coffee.” patri added with a smirk, “i think i might need to start coming here too.” she winked. you almost missed the way kika shot her quick look, a look of unease before patri’s smirk changed into a teasing smile.

“well what can i get you guys?” you asked, breaking the short silence that had built.

“three oat milk lattes, please.” kika requested, her gaze shifting to yours. 

you sent her a nod before turning around to work on the order, jana and patri drifting over to a comfortable sofa in the corner of the cafe, kika still leant against the counter. 

“i still haven’t got your name.” she stated, fingers tapping as usual. 

you glanced over your shoulder, lips curving just slightly. “i’m starting to think you like the mystery.”

kika let out a soft laugh, “i like knowing the name of the person who makes my day start better, serendipity remember.”

you rolled your eyes lightly but gave in.

kika repeated it under her breath, like she was trying it out for herself. “it suits you.”

you tried not to let the smile that tugged at your mouth show too much as you finished steaming the milk, “and what’s yours?”

“my what?” kika questioned, her head tilting with confusion, before a look of realization snapped, “oh my name, kika.”

you turned around, placing the drinks in front of her, “it’s pretty,i like it.”

you had made the three with differing patterns of latte art, but the one with a heart you pushed forward in her direction, “enjoy.” you smiled.

she laughed lightly before making her way over to the corner where her friends sat. jana gave her a smug look whilst patri whispered something about being a flirt. kika, for the most part, ignored them both but you could see the slight red glow in her cheeks as she angled her seat just slightly, in your direction.

you pretended not to notice the way she stole one last glance your way as she sat down, fingers wrapped around her cup, the heart still intact in the foam.

you were stuck behind the counter, doing anything to look busy, you wiped it down and organised the cups. but your eyes flicked over occasionally, just quick enough to catch jana mouthing something exaggerated that made kika throw a sugar packet at her, and patri laughing behind her hand.

your shift had technically ended five minutes ago, but you were still tidying up, well more like delaying. the cafe had thinned out, a few of your regulars still hanging about, as well the three friends who were still deep in conversation.

from the corner, jana leaned back in her chair, eyes finding yours over the rim of her coffee cup. “chica,” she called casually, “your shift’s done, no? come sit. your star pupil should buy you a coffee, like a date.”

“jana.” kika hissed, her cheeks highlighting red.

“you were taking too long to make a move, she had to say something.” patri shrugged, taking a sip from her coffee. 

you wiped down the last corner of the counter, biting back a smile. the warmth of embarrassment rolled off kika, visible even from across the café. you tucked the cloth under the bar, pretending to consider the invitation for just a second longer than you needed.

“i’ll guess i can make some time for you,” you smiled, walking towards the empty chair at their table, “but i’m good for a drink.”

patri watched you for a beat too long, then smiled like she knew something you didn’t, “so, serendipity?”

you blinked, “what?”

“that’s what she’s been calling you,” she said, flicking her head toward kika, “kika doesn’t usually get poetic, so she must really like you.”

kika groaned into her hands, “stop talking.” she mumbled.

“she says your english lessons are better than the catalan lessons she’s getting from the team tutor.” jana added with a small laugh. 

your face scrunched a little at the mention of a ‘team’, and then it clicked, the matching tracksuits, the famous football club barcelona logo on each of their chests. there was no way it was a coincidence, maybe they just worked for the club?

kika just shook her head, cheeks red and glowing now, but her eyes flicked to yours with that same softness she always carried when she looked at you.

you let yourself hold her gaze. maybe just for a second longer than you should have.

and just as you were about to ask the question that was circling your brain, it all came crashing down. 

the door swung open with a violent jingle of the bell, louder than it had any right to be, your head turned and suddenly you were on your feet. 

your blood ran cold.

she didn’t wait. she walked straight toward you, voice already raised.

“you really don’t waste time, do you?”

your body tensed as the air in the room shifted.

a few people looked up, curious but cautious. you glanced toward kika and her friends, their conversation had stopped. kika had straightened in her seat, eyes narrowed slightly, jaw tight.

you forced a breath through your nose, standing up slowly, “bea, not here, i’m at work.”

her eyes flicked past you, to the corner table, then back again, “why not? thought you liked an audience.”

your face burned, not from embarrassment but the sharp sting of something you’d been trying to outrun for months, “i don’t want to speak to you, just leave, please.”

tears were threatening to fall from your eyes, your hands were starting to tremble as you watched her face light up as if she was enjoying this.

bea let out a bitter laugh. “no, you don’t get to say that. you don’t get to act like the injured party when i’m the one who got left!”

your jaw clenched, holding back everything that was threatening to spill, “you didn’t get left. you got caught.”

there was a heavy silence, followed by the scrape of a chair against the floor and then kika was on her feet.

“okay,” she said, stepping forward. her voice was calm, but her posture said otherwise, “you’ve said enough, it’s time to go.”

bea scoffed, eyes narrowing as her arms crossed, a mocking smile curling on her lips as she took a step closer, her eyes drifted to kika momentarily before they were back on you. “oh now you have a saviour?” she sneered, voice dripping with something that could only be described as venom, “cute, is she your rebound? gonna fix you huh, clean up your mess?”

her expression twisted into something crueler, “you act like i’m a monster, like you didn’t just walk away and erase all those years we had together. but sure, blame me, make yourself a saint. it’s easier than admitting you were never committed to us, to me…”

“i made one mistake, one, but you couldn’t handle it. you used it as an excuse to run, an opportunity to get out, just like you wanted. don’t pretend you didn’t want to leave me long before that.”

she looked around the room as if it was a stage, the deafening silence gave her power, “so go ahead and play the victim. let her defend you, but we don’t know the truth, don’t we?”

you stood frozen for a moment, the buzz of the cafe like static in your ears. your hands trembled as you took a step back, brushing past kika with a quiet ‘i need a minute’ and headed for the door. chest tight and vision blurring at the edges. 

bea saw it.

you didn’t have to look to know. she saw the way your shoulders curved in, the way your breath hitched and the way your pain was clawing its way to the surface. the same pain you had spent a long time trying to bury. 

and just like that, her entire demeanor shifted. 

gone was the snarling, spiteful ex as she morphed into someone new entirely, “hey… wait.” the change in her tone was nauseating, it became gentle, as if she was still someone you could trust. like she hadn't just tried to humiliate you in front of a room full of people. 

“you're upset, i get it.” she continued, voice laced with faux concern. “but you always do this, remember. run off all emotional. you always break and then you need me to pick up the pieces. that’s what we do, it’s why we work so well.”

bea smiled, too soft, too rehearsed. “just let me talk to you. alone. we can fix this, we always do.”

that’s when kika stepped between you two, no hesitation, “no, you don’t get to twist this,” she spoke, her tone cool and calm. “she’s upset because you made her this way, and you don’t get to feed off that anymore.”

bea’s eyes flicked to kika, as if she was debating whether she would be able to take her on and come out successful. but after a few moments she backed down and then turned her gaze back onto you. 

bea’s expression twisted, mouth curling into a smirk that didn't quite reach the eyes. she took another step forward, lowering her voice just enough to make it more threatening than loud. 

“oh you don’t want to leave me,” bea spoke, tone mocking. “then maybe i should tell everyone what you were like at the end. all those nights crying on the bathroom floor, begging me to stay, the fucking pathetic texts. the way you…”

bea reached for your arm, fingers latching on with a grip that was too tight. nails digging in. 

“maybe everyone would like to hear about how you couldn't even sleep alone without…”

but before she could finish, kika was there, shoving bea back with both hands hard, “back off!”

the force knocked bea a step or two back, almost stumbling over her own shoes. the tension in the room increased, crackling like static in the air. a few gasps broke out from nearby tables.

kika stood in front of you now, solid. her voice was low but lethal, “touch her again, and i promise you’ll regret it.”

jana and patri stood up too, “you better leave before you see how fast three footballers can throw you out of the building.” patri added. 

bea stared, blinking as if she couldn't believe what has just happened. her mask cracked, just for a second, and the bravado on display faltered. 

her eyes lingered on you for one final moment before she stepped back with a muttered curse, turned, and stormed out, the bell above the door marking her exit.

kika didn’t move until the door had fully swung shut. only then did her shoulders loosen slightly, her attention turning back to you.

“are you okay?” her voice quieter, her face painted with a look of empathy that surprised you. you weren’t used to it, it made your mind stutter.

you shook your head faintly, “i - i’m sorry, i need to go.” with that you grabbed your bag from behind the counter and ran straight out the door. 

-

the next day you called in sick. you couldn’t face kika, your regular customers, or your coworkers after the scene bea had pulled in front of everyone. 

you laid in bed staring at the ceiling, your body was riddled with anxiety. the silence in your apartment was suffocating, but the idea of filling it felt like too much.

your phone buzzed once. you didn’t look.

then again.

and again.

you peered at it, your coworkers name lighting up from your bedside table.

you rolled over, clutching your pillow to your chest. you weren’t sure if it was guilt or shame or some mix of both settling in your stomach. sure bea was gone, but her words and the impact they had weren’t.

none of it was true, but that didn’t dull the sting.

you thought about kika. the way she stood between you and everything ugly, the way her voice had cut through the noise. how she put herself on the line for you, protected you from something she knew nothing about.

but then you thought of her seeing you like that, completely frozen and helpless.

you hated it. 

so you stayed in bed, hardly moving, in the quiet where you could avoid everything.

-

but when the next day came, you couldn’t stay bundled up forever. so you pushed yourself out of bed, and went to work. 

you were doing your usual morning routine.

grinding the coffee beans, wiping the counter, checking the milk fridge, pretending your hands were shaking as you reached for the cups.

it was too early for your regulars but too late for the commuters. just you and the ache in your chest that hadn’t let up since bea decided to flip everything upside down.. again. 

you moved slower than usual, like your body hadn’t quite caught up to the fact that it was safe again, as if bea was still somewhere, watching.

the bell above the door didn’t ring, but your eyes kept flicking toward it anyway, like your brain couldn’t help bracing for impact. you didn’t even know if she’d come in.

but then she did. 

you didn’t look up right away, you told yourself it was a habit, that you were just focused on wiping down the steam wand. 

“morning.” her voice was soft, careful, as if part of her was hesitant to speak. 

you looked up. kika stood just inside the door, her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, her eyes on you with something unreadable behind them. she wasn’t smiling like she usually would, but there was a gentleness in her expression, like she was waiting for permission to be there.

“i didn’t see you yesterday.” she said after a beat, stepping forward slowly, like approaching something fragile, “i still came in, your coworker doesn’t make coffee as well as you do.”

you couldn’t help but smile faintly at her compliment, knowing your co-worker wouldn’t have spent the extra time perfecting the latte art or making sure the milk was at just the right temperature that kika liked. 

the quiet settled for a moment before you attempted to speak, “i didn’t think you’d come back,” you muttered, quieter than you meant to.

she tilted her head, eyes narrowing just slightly, “why?”

“i was worried she scared you off,” you started, your hands rubbing the cloth in your hand between your fingers, “she has a habit of ruining things that make me happy.”

she leaned her elbow on the counter, eyes still on yours, her voice dipping a little, playful but steady, “i train against some of the best football players in the world, i don’t get scared easily.”

your head tilted slightly as you tried to decipher what she was saying, eyebrows scrunching, “so you play football?” 

kika’s lips quirked, a soft curve that was half a smirk, half a dare, “i mean yeah, i run around a field with a ball for a living, so yeah.”

you blinked at her, brows still drawn, processing, “like for an actual team?”

her smile widened, like she was enjoying watching you put the pieces together, pointing to the barcelona crest that sat on her chest, “mhmm.”

the tracksuits, the subtle discipline, the confidence, the way jana and patri had joked. you felt your mouth part slightly. how did it take you that long for you to put the pieces together?

you exhaled a soft laugh, stepping back slightly with a stunned look. “and you didn’t think to mention that before?”

she raised an eyebrow, “you never asked.”

“i have so many questions.” you admitted.

yeah you weren’t necessarily ‘into’ football, your friends had dragged you to a game before but you spent most of it taking pictures of the cat mascot on the sidelines. barcelona breathed football and yet somehow the footballer who had been visiting you went right under your nose.

“perfect english practice then.” she grinned.

you made kika her usual, before drilling her with every football question you could possibly think of, including a very slowed down version of the offside rule.

you leaned on the counter, chin resting in your palm and a smile across your face as you watched her arrange the sugar packets like defenders and a spoon as the striker. her brows furrowed in concentration, tongue poking slightly out the corner of her mouth as she adjusted the layout so it would finally make sense.

“so,” she said seriously, tapping one of the sugar packets, “this is the last defender. if the striker, the spoon, is beyond this point when the pass is made, that’s offside.”

you stared at it, eyes narrowing. “but what if the spoon was, like, moving back behind the sugar?”

kika looked up at you slowly, “you’re trouble.”

you smiled sweetly, “i’m just trying to understand your world.”

she gave a small laugh, brushing a hand through her hair and shaking her head. “i can’t believe this is how i’m spending my recovery day.”

“you chose to come here.” you pointed out, nudging the napkin she’d used as a goalpost.

“i really did,” she murmured, eyes flicking up to meet yours again, softening at the edges, “i didn’t feel like being anywhere else.”

the words sank between you. 

lika leant back a little, letting her hand drift across the counter in a casual sweep. “and now you owe me.”

“i owe you?”

she nodded firmly, “you made me explain the offside rule with props, that deserves something.”

you tilted your head, amused. “what do i owe you then?”

“your number.” she grinned, a spark of mischief lighting in her eyes as if she set up that entire interaction perfectly. 

a soft smile pulled at your lips, “very smooth kika, very very smooth.” 

“what can i say? i obviously need some online english tutoring.”

you laughed slightly before grabbing the napkin she had used as a goalpost and a pen, scribbling down your number before sliding it across the counter towards her.

kika caught the napkin with a quick smile, her fingers brushing against yours for a moment longer than necessary.

“looking forward to our next lesson.” she smiled, voice low and teasing.

you felt your cheeks warm but managed a confident nod, with that she was gone. 

it had only been 20 minutes before an unknown number lit up your phone, 

[unknown number] - guess i’m a good teacher too, after that beautiful offside explanation 

you couldn’t help but laugh at her message, quickly changing her number into a contact, before responding. 

you - are you trying to steal my job?

kika - nothing could ever compare to your incredible english lessons

something in you was feeling bold, far bolder than you had been to kika in person.

you - careful… i don’t think you’re meant to flirt with your teachers

kika - then i don’t want to be your student

you caught yourself smiling, the kind that crept in slowly and made you warm. her message lingered on your screen, your thumb hovering just above a reply, heart skipping.

before you could type anything, the bell above the door chimed, sharp and familiar. you slipped your phone beneath the counter like it had caught fire, straightening just in time for the midday rush to pour in, pulling you back into routine with both hands.

serving what felt like hundreds of customers, the sudden rush filling the cafe swept you off your feet. 

the end of your shift arrived quicker than expected, and very typical for you the sunny barcelona weather had taken a turn. the once cloudless sky was now covered in a dark grey layer, one that had rain pounding against the pavement.  

you tried getting an uber, but of course it was nearly 25 euros for a 5 minute ride, so a 20 minute walk in the pouring rain seemed more ideal. 

pulling your hood over your head, you left the cafe and stepped out into the downpour, the kind that soaked you instantly. cold drops ran down your neck as you tugged your jacket tighter and started walking, head down, shoes already slipping against the wet pavement.

you’d only made it halfway down the street when a car slowed beside you, creeping just a little too perfectly in time with your steps. you glanced over, ready to ignore a stranger, until you saw her.

kika leaned across the passenger seat, window already down despite the rain.

“you weren’t going to text me back?” she said, one brow lifted, a teasing edge in her voice that was just soft enough to make your stomach twist.

you blinked, caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement, “you came all the way here just because i didn’t answer?”

“well my ego didn’t know how to handle it so i had to come check on you,” she gave you a crooked grin, “but now i see i’ve turned up at the right time, so get in because i’m not letting you walk home in this.”

you hesitated for half a second, until a gust of wind blew your hood back and rain trickled down your spine. with a quiet sigh, you climbed into the passenger seat, water dripping down your sleeves. 

kika reached over instinctively, tugging the heater dial up before glancing at you with a soft shake of her head, “you really were about to walk the whole way, huh?”

you shrugged, trying not to shiver as you pulled your sleeves down over your hand, “it’s only like 20 minutes, and it wasn’t exactly my first choice.”

she glanced sideways at you, her voice lower now, “next time, just text me, i’ll show up faster.”

you let out a breath of a laugh, heart skipping, “and here i thought footballers were busy.”

kika grinned, eyes back on the road as the car pulled away from the curb, “not too busy for you, put your address in my phone.”

you did as was asked and typed in your address before sitting back in the seat, “so do you always drive around rescuing baristas from the rain?” you teased, a grin across your face.

“only the ones who put little hearts in my coffee… and then ignore my texts.” she grinned back.

you laughed slightly, rolling your eyes, as a comfortable silence fell between you before you spoke up again, “thank you, for yesterday and today and just everything.”

“you never have to thank me,” she smiled lightly, “you deserve the same kindness you show people, and i’ll make sure i’m here to remind you.”

you gave her an appreciative hum, unsure of what to say other than thanking her again, but her words were running round your head at full speed. 

kika pulled up slowly to the curb outside your building, putting the car in park but making no move to rush you out. you turned to her, hand already on the door handle, then paused.

“i know you’ve just told me not to say thank you, so i appreciate you driving me home.” you smiled softly. 

she hesitated for a moment before speaking, “can i walk you in?” 

you blinked, surprised at the shift in her voice, a little more uncertain than usual.

“yeah,” you said gently, “of course.”

the two of you stepped out into the drizzle, kika flipping her hood up as she jogged around the front of the car walking in time with you. 

inside, the building was quiet, the soft hum of the elevator filling the silence between you. kika stood close, your arms just brushing as you were comfortably close. 

when the doors slid open on your floor, she followed you down the hallway, her gaze scanning the space before flicking back to you.

you stopped outside your door, turning back to face her. her hands were tucked in her jacket pockets now, and her brows drew together slightly like she was working up to something.

she let out a soft breath, glancing down for a second before meeting your eyes again. “i’ve got a game next week, a home game.”

you tilted your head slightly, you had a feeling you knew what was going to be asked, but you couldn’t help but tease her anticipation, “oh yeah.”

“yeah,” she nodded, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth, “i’d really like it if you came.”

there was a short pause before you answered, “i’d really like to.”

her smile widened, warm and full of something unspoken, “i’ll text you the details.”

“looking forward to it,” your voice barely above a whisper but certain.

neither of you moved at first. then, slowly, she stepped back, still watching you like she didn’t quite want to leave just yet. she gave a small wave, backing down the hallway toward the elevator with a grin that stayed with you even after your door clicked shut.

inside your apartment, the silence felt safe. you stood still for a moment, a smile painted across your face as your heart fluttered. 

you had gotten so used to shrinking yourself down for someone who refused to let you live in happiness, apologising for taking up space as if you were never good enough no matter what you did. you were always wrong, never said the right thing, didn’t love correctly. even after moving cities, 700 miles away from everything you knew, everyone you loved, and you still become a second option to whatever was easier in the moment. 

yet kika made you feel the opposite. she was a ray of light, like a beam of sun that shone around her every where she went. you felt warm around her, safe, protected from everything negative your past could throw at you. 

you kicked off your shoes and hung your jacket, still damp from the rain, before moving to the kitchen and flicking on the kettle. the hum of it filled the space as your phone buzzed in your pocket.

kika - i meant what i said by the way. you deserve good things, and people who show up for you.

you - i’m starting to think you don’t need my english lessons anymore

kika - no entiendo ingles, ¿puedes enseñarme por favor? (i don’t understand english, can you teach me please?)

you couldn’t help but smile at your phone, warmth filling in your chest despite the rain still tapping softly against the windows. finally you felt a moment of peace, a moment where you weren’t concerned that a bulldozer was going to run through your life yet again, because in your little bubble, it was just you and her.

a/n - part 2 will be coming soon, i wanted to separate the angst of r's past from the real fluff of kika! thank you for reading, any feedback/requests can be left in my inbox! and ofc thank you @earpskeeper for your incredible help with the angst <3

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Given the World

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x GN!Reader

Summary: You like to bring little souvenirs for Bob whenever you travel for a mission.

Marvel Masterlist

You and Bucky were assigned as security detail for a senator in Hawaii. Being part of the new Avengers, you expected various kinds of missions, especially when Val was the orchestrator of the group. Being part of security was the tamest mission you could receive and you were gonna be in Hawaii for a month? Easy.

What wasn't going to be easy was leaving Bob.

You and he were in this weird kind of limbo. You two started off as friends, then the more you hung out with each other, you became best friends. Then, on a random night where you two were cuddled up and watching a movie, you two kissed and confessed your feelings for each other.

You two never put a label on it, but you were together. You didn't say you were exclusive, but you were. There were times you wanted to have the "what are we?" talk but every time you got close to it, you chickened out.

Yeah, you can punch, stab, and kick your way out of any situation, but feelings? Fuck. Feelings were hard and you didn't know how to navigate that.

But still, you tried to show Bob your feelings through other means, and that was through gifts.

Bob still wasn't cleared to go on missions, so he had to stay at the Watch Tower while you and the others travelled all over the world, helping people.

You brought him various keychains, mugs, plushies, books, etc.. You'd take pictures and send them to him. Anything to show that you thought of him.

Now with the Hawaii mission, you started thinking of what little things you could potentially bring back for him.

Even now, as you pack and Bob watches you do so from your bed, you think of him.

"Maybe a book? You said you liked history so maybe I can find a book about some of the local history? Oh!" you look at him with bright eyes and a smirk, "What about a coconut?"

He snorts, "You wanna bring me back a coconut?"

"I'm trying to think out of the box here! I'm trying to stray away from all the keychains, mugs, and magnets-"

"I like all of my keychains, mugs, and magnets."

You sit at the edge of your bed with a pout, "I wanna try to get you something different."

He softly smiles at you and scoots closer to sit beside, "I'll love whatever you bring back for me. Even if you don't bring back anything at all, knowing that you want to bring me back something is enough. You know I appreciate you regardless."

You nod and let out a deep exhale, "I know, but I always feel bad about leaving you here. I want you to experience everything I do."

"I will eventually. Once I get my powers in control and don't let the other guy out, I'll be out there with you, defending senators and civilians alike."

You snort and lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder, "At least I'm going with Bucky. Aside from you, he and I get along the best." You then move away, heading back to your open suitcase on the floor.

"A month long mission with a handsome super soldier in paradise. Yeah, that's the dream right there," Bob says it with a playful smile, but you see it in his eyes: the insecurity.

You look at him with a sad frown. You hate how ingrained his self-doubt is in him.

"I promise you, nothing will happen."

He clears his throat and nervously rubs his hands on his sweatpants, "No yeah. I know. It was just joke."

"Robby," you say his nickname softly as you approach him again, sitting on his lap. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and you stare into his eyes, "I'm interested in no one but you. I have feelings, really strong feelings, for no one, but you."

"I know," he replies softly and he looks away in shame, "I'm sorry." He takes hold of your hips to help ground himself.

"I understand. It's okay," you give him a quick kiss on the lips, "I got you."

"I got you," he repeats back to you.

You both rest your foreheads against one another and sit in silence. You listen to his breathing, you feel his fingers dig into your hips.

"I love you," he whispers, "and if you don't feel the same, it's okay. Because I'll still love you even if you don't love me."

You chuckle, "How can I not love you, Robert Reynolds, when you're all that I think about? Is your collection of souvenirs not proof of how much I care about you? Doesn't matter if I'm one mile away or one thousand, you're on my mind and being away from you for a month is going to be hell for me."

His lips perk up into a small smile, "Is it bad that I kind of find it comforting that you'll be as much as a wreck as me when you're away?"

You throw your head back in laughter, "Absolutely not."

His laughter joins yours and you feel yourself feel lighter. You suppose feelings aren't that scary after all.

____________________________

Bucky smirks at you as you and he follow Senator Collins and her husband around Aloha Stadium. It's a free day for the senator and he and her husband wanted to do some touristy things around the island.

You and Bucky follow her along with her regular security detail. However, your attention is divided between work and all the different trinkets you can buy Bob. Already your tote bag is filled with some funny t-shirts and a hat woven from palm leaves.

Bucky found it amusing and adorable how often you were straying from the group to buy something new for yourself or Bob.

"We're supposed to be working."

"I'm paying attention!" Your bag looks even heavier now.

Bucky snorts, "You trying to bring the whole island to him or something?"

"Gift giving is one of my love languages. Leave me alone."

"Love, eh?" he cocks a brow at you, "So you two made things official official?"

You nod, "He said it first. He was feeling insecure about me being here with you for a whole month. I reassured him that I'm not interested in anyone but him and then he told me he loves me."

Bucky grimaces, "He thinks you and I-"

"I know, right. As if you're not madly in love with Sam."

"...I'm not madly in love with him."

"Suuuure, Buck. Anyway, all of this," you pat your tote bag, "is just me bringing back some of the world to Bob, because he deserves it."

The super soldier chuckles and shakes his head, "You two are disgustingly cute."

_________________________

You dump out two tote bags filled with gifts for Bob. He looks at the pile on his bed and then at you, "Honey-"

"I was on an island for a month and they had cool things! Look," you hold up a palm tree figure, "I know you don't smoke anymore, but this is a palm tree bong and I thought it was hilarious. So I bought it for you."

Bob looks at you in confusion and amusement, "I-Well alright then."

"I swear that's the weirdest thing I bought for you. Everything else is pretty tame."

Bob grabs a t-shirt and unfolds it. He snorts and reads it, "'I got lei'd in Hawaii'?" He laughs and tosses the shirt onto the bed, "You're lucky I love you, because that's horrible," he says pulling you to sit on his lap, "Thank you though. I appreciate all the gifts and I'm happy you're back."

"You're welcome and same. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else but here with you," you peck his lips and hold him tight.

Bob will never tell you, but he thinks the best thing the world has given him, was you.

[gold-onthe-inside]

northern attitude

who? spencer reid (s3) x tough!reader summary: after your friends with benefits arrangement comes to an end, spencer's persistence gets him to the bottom of your fear to commit to him, especially when all signs point to you liking him back. content warnings: hurt/comfort, r's insecurities (not being good enough for spencer, not being a particularly romantic person), r yells at spencer word count: 1.4k a/n: sequel to orbiting around you. find more tough!reader here <3, dividers are by @saradika-graphics

It’s like withdrawal, being cut off from you, and it hurts. It hurts watching you act like nothing had changed between the two of you. His mood flits from hurt and sad to angry and frustrated. He wants to beg on his knees, wants to put his fist through a wall. It doesn’t help that he can’t sleep at night, his mind replaying that day at the high school, in the mens’ room, begging the man with a shotgun not to kill the boys who assaulted his daughter, trying to argue over the voice of the girl who egged him on.

Usually, he could turn over, use you as a distraction, hand skimming soft skin, sliding under your cami, tucking you closer as he pressed his lips to your shoulder until you stirred. Or, if you weren’t already there, he’d cross the distance between motel rooms, knocking on the door, barely waiting until the door shut to crush his lips against yours.

But he’d ruined it. He’d wanted more. Pushing your guard down with each kiss, each ramble, falling in love with your soft smile, your quiet sense of humour. Not a week went by when he wasn’t catching your wrist in his hand, his grip loose, asking the same question: “Why does it have to be one or the other?”

And every week, you’d give the same answer: “I’m no good for you.”

Unanswered questions keep him up all the time, you keep him up all the time. Every day, he dragged himself out of bed, going to work, facing you and your schooled expressions, rivalled only by Hotch. And yet, a coffee would appear on his desk, made just the way he liked it, and the ache would return. Pending case files would mysteriously disappear from his desk when he came back from the bathroom. It comes to a head when you argue Derek down from the ledge of dragging them all out clubbing to a quieter bar which he’s eternally grateful for, and it’s when it clicks for him.

“You’re afraid,” he murmured, sidling up to you, the now-empty glass of wine making him more confident. Your back’s against the wall, watching the rest of the team play pool, in your leather jacket and maroon tee, black Levi’s and sleek boots.

“I’m sorry?” you asked, caught off-guard as he leaned against the wall beside you.

“You’re afraid,” he repeated, adding, “of how much you like me. That’s why you don’t want commitment.”

You’re good at pretending, too good, but he’s gotten better at seeing the chinks in your armour now. “That’s a stretch,” you said, raising a delicate brow.

“No, the stretch is you assuming what’s good for me and making decisions for me like I’m not a grown adult,” he shot back, and judging by how your jaw twitches, it lands. You moved, draining the rest of your glass of whiskey before setting it down, fluidly grabbing your bag.

“I think that’s it for me tonight,” you announced loudly, the rest of the team murmuring ‘see you’s and ‘goodbye’s, and Spencer doesn’t bother with niceties, simply following you out.

“Stop running away from this conversation,” he demanded, walking out onto the curb.

“Oh, because you have me all figured out?” you scoffed, glancing at him before starting to walk to the nearest Metro station.

“Why is that so bad?” he asked, easily catching up with his long strides, turning on his heel to look at you as you both walk. His hair’s getting longer, a dark blue shirt contrasting pale skin, sleeves rolled up to veiny forearms, a striped tie that had been bothering her all day with how he’d done it unevenly, the end of it reaching his belt. He’s insistent, eager to please, an irresistable combination in the sheets, completely irritating outside of it. “I mean, your excuse is that the problem is with you, right? So, let’s talk about it,” he demanded, almost bumping into a lamp-post.

“I’m not doing this with you, Reid,” you told him, focused on getting to the subway entrance a couple feet away. “And especially not in public.”

“There’s no-one out here,” he contradicted, standing in front of you. “Would it kill you to be honest with me?” You let out a frustrated sigh as you find yourself blocked by his chest, his gaze laser sharp. “I deserve to be more than just a distraction, and so do you,” he continued, determined to get under your skin.

“Spencer, stop,” you snapped at him and he narrowed her eyes.

“Is that what it is?” he probed deeper. “You think you don’t deserve a relationship?”

“Jesus Christ, would you stop?” you almost shrieked, if not for the fact that you were on the street.

“No, because we’re talking about this!” he cried. “I’m done shoving this under the rug for whatever reason, and you— You will hide behind whatever excuse you can find to not confront this, which is really contradictory considering you’re the last person I’d call a coward—”

“Spencer, shut the fuck up!” you yelled at him, unrestrained anger lashing out at him, and he actually flinched. He stopped talking, watching you breathe heavily, sinking back against a wall and sliding down to a seat. He tried not to think about all the germs and bacteria that infest the street, sitting down next to you. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, your hands laced on your knees, pressing your thumbs to your forehead.

Spencer simply shook his head. “I pushed you to it.” He watched you breathe, catching your breath.

“I’m not good at being a girlfriend,” you said softly, looking at your callused hand. “I’m not… romantic, or whatever.”

“Says who?” Spencer asked, his brow furrowing, looking at you. “You make me coffee almost every day. You stole my case files so I wouldn’t work too late. And you know my favourite food, and you keep candy in a drawer for when I have sugar cravings. You listen to everything I have to say, even when you have no interest in it. That’s plenty romantic.” You met his gaze, earnest hazel eyes, turned amber by the streetlight, looking down at you fondly, and it terrified you, your eyes flitting back to your hands, lips pursed. He bumped your shoulder lightly. “What are you so scared of?” he asked you gently, watching you lean your head back, tongue darting out to wet your lips.

“Not being good enough. Or what you expect from a girlfriend,” you answered eventually.

“How can you say that without knowing what my expectations are?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern as you looked back up at him. “I mean, I want you to be you, and I want you to be comfortable, and to be honest, if you weren’t yourself, I wouldn’t like you half as much as I do.”

You take a beat to just process what he’s said, and then shake your head with a scoff. “This is what I mean. You’re just… effortlessly sweet, Spencer. And I’m not. I can’t… It doesn’t come as easy to me.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Spencer countered, shifting to look at you better. “I mean… sure, maybe it’s hard for you to say it, but… I do think you show it. You show it every day.”

“That’s hardly enough, Spence—”

“It is for me,” he insisted, placing his hand on yours. “All I’m asking for… really… is the chance to return the favour. The only thing that has to change, if you think about it, is that we get exclusivity. That I get to call you my girlfriend.” He watched you mull over it for a moment.

“I think I’d like that,” you said eventually, your voice slightly small, and it’s the first time he’s smiled in weeks. Suddenly, he’s all energy, pulling you up by the wrist.

“Good, cause I have so many plans and places I want to take you, and they’re doing Othello this weekend at the Shakespeare Theatre Company—” You let him ramble on all the way to the subway, your brain fuzzy simply from holding his hand all the way, and he finally lets you fix his tie once you’re in the train, headed to his place.

[livvymd]

͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ⟣ ֹ ┄┄w2s headcanons - some nsfw┄┄ ۫ ⟢ ˑ

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏✧ ✦ ✞ ✧ ✦

he absolutely cannot fall asleep without touching you.

iIt doesn’t matter how hot it is, or how tangled the duvet is. he has to be touching you. face buried in your neck, his entire arm flopped over your chest, one leg thrown over yours like he’s anchoring you to the bed. even in his sleep, he subconsciously adjusts to pull you closer. and when you try to wriggle free in the morning, he just groans and mumbles, “stay.” dragging you back like a human teddy bear.

love language:

harry’s love language is experience-based gift giving. he might be busy with work or filming, but when he wants to show love, it’s always intentional. random flower delivery on a hard day. your favourite chocolate waiting on the kitchen counter. but mostly? surprise weekends away. “pack a bag. don’t ask. just trust me.” he just wants to watch you smile in the sunlight somewhere quiet. time with you is his favourite reward.

PDA:

he’s fine with affection, but always thoughtful. hand-holding? always. arm around your shoulders? definitely. kissing in public? only if it feels safe. he’s protective like that. he knows what people online can be like, and he doesn’t want you dragged into that. vut in private? he never stops touching you. always pulling you close, kissing your temple, murmuring little things like; “come ‘ere. missed you.”

he’s physically attached to you 90% of the time. fully believes your boobs or lap are his designated resting spots.

like if you're both on the sofa? he’s immediately lying down with his head in your lap, fingers curled around your leg, cheek smushed into your thigh. or he’ll shuffle over during movie night, look at you with that slightly pouty expression, and just wordlessly collapse onto your chest like it’s a weighted pillow. and the moment you start playing with his hair? gis whole body goes slack. “you’re gonna make me fall asleep mid-movie, I’m warning you.” (he does. every time.)

he tries to get you in every video like it’s a game.

he’ll be mid-challenge and suddenly swing the camera around just to show you in the corner. “that’s my girlfriend , she’s judging me. she thinks I’m shit at this.” and even if you're off-camera, you’ll always hear a little: “can you pass me that? say hi to the vlog.” he just loves that people know he has you. not to show off, but like, “look what I’ve got. look who loves me.”

he’s got zero filter when it comes to talking about you on camera.

he’ll get asked something dumb like “are you seeing anyone?” in a sidemen video and immediately beam: “yeah. she’s unreal. my actual dream girl. sorry, lads.” doesn’t even blink. doesn’t tone it down. he means every word.

he thinks you’re the funniest person alive and will repeat your jokes to the boys like they’re his own.

you’ll say something casually hilarious in private, and then two days later, you’ll hear him using it in a group video. “where’d you hear that?” “..dunno.” (it was you. he just wants to sound cool.)

nsfw warning!!!

kinks.

harry’s definitely into both praise and degradation, but only when he’s giving it. one minute he’s calling you his “good girl,” stroking your cheek while he fucks you slow, the next he’s got your thighs shaking as he mutters things like “so needy, aren’t you? can’t go five minutes without my cock.” but if you ever tried to degrade him? nope. not happening. he gets sulky real quick. “shut up. you love me.” lso: total exhibitionist. wants you in his lap at parties, whispering filth in your ear while you try to focus. will pull you into a half-lit stairwell at a club just to get his hands on you. the idea of nearly getting caught makes him harder.“keep your voice down, babe. unless you want everyone knowing how good I fuck you.”

harry loves a good mirror. loves watching the way your body reacts to him. arching, shaking, writhing. loves whispering filthy things while you both watch. “look at you. look how good I make you feel.” pulls your chin so you have to see yourself falling apart. and when he’s still dressed? oh, he lives for you palming him through his joggers. hrins like a lunatic when you say he’s big. “yeah? you want it that bad, baby? ho on then. take it.”

aftercare.

despite his chaotic, insatiable energy in bed, harry is soft as hell after. he might rail you into next week, but the second it’s over? he’s carrying you to the bathroom, running a warm bath, pressing kisses to your shoulder like he’s grounding himself too. wraps you in one of his massive hoodies and flops on the sofa with you curled on his chest. might go, “want tea? or like, chocolate? I’ve got those fancy biscuits you like.” puts a movie on even though he knows you’ll both fall asleep five minutes in. he just wants to keep you close while you come back down. he adores taking care of you. it makes him feel needed in the way he craves.

secret kinks:

i feel like he would be so into mutual mastuebation.

watching you touch yourself? my god. he’ll sit back, fisting his cock while staring at you with blown pupils and a filthy little grin. loves hearing you whimper his name. loves seeing how wet you get for just him. aand when you’re apart? he’s got Polaroids of you hidden in his suitcase. one in a bikini, one in lace, one with nothing but your smile. “you’ve got no idea how often i look at these. fuckin’ obsessed.”

He gets turned on so easily. It’s actually kind of hilarious.

like, you wear his hoodie with nothing underneath and bend over to grab something? he’s immediately hard. you kiss his neck for more than three seconds? boner. you call him baby in that soft voice? game over. sometimes you’ll just brush past him in the kitchen and he’ll go: “don’t do that. i’ve got shit to do today. now I’m thinking about you riding me on the counter.”

He gets addicted to whatever makes you moan the loudest.

once he hears that sound, the one that makes your back arch and your nails dig into his arms, he will chase it forever. tries to find the exact angle, exact rhythm, exact words that pull that noise out of you. and once he does? “there. that’s it. fuck, do that again. do it for me.” losing his mind over you, every time.

[m34tthews]

current boyfriend — the hughes

an —this trend is soo funny i couldn’t help myself

masterlist

QUINN

your phone is propped up low on the kitchen counter, angled perfectly to catch the shot. the comments have been relentless — please do the current boyfriend trend with quinn, he’s gonna be so confused lol, we need his reaction.

you didn’t want to mess with him like this. not him. but the opportunity was perfect.

he’s still wearing the hoodie he threw on after his shower, sleeves pushed up, focused and gentle as he plates your dinner. the smell of garlic, lemon, and parmesan fills the room. he’s been in the kitchen for almost an hour, soft music playing, asking you to stay out until it’s done.

now, he sets the plate down in front of you with a proud, shy smile and leans down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“here you go, baby.”

you smile sweetly and pick up your phone as the plate is placed infront of you.

“look what my current boyfriend made me,” you say casually to the camera.

his body freezes behind you.

“…current?” he repeats.

you keep the bit going, biting into your pasta like you didn’t just cause minor heartbreak. “yeah. he’s so talented, huh?”

quinn shifts beside you, arms crossing lightly over his chest. “what do you mean current? like… is there an expiration date i don’t know about?”

you nod solemnly, playing it all the way through. “i mean… things happen. people change. contracts expire.”

he squints. “contracts? i didn’t sign anything.”

“well,” you hum, twirling your fork in the pasta, “this relationship has about three weeks left on it. depends on your performance review.”

he just stares at you now. silent. betrayed. lips parted in disbelief. “are you actually serious right now?”

you finally crack a smile. “no, i’m not serious,” you laugh. “you should see your face.”

he doesn’t laugh back. he stays exactly where he is, hovering over your shoulder, looking completely heartbroken but trying to act like he’s not.

you set your fork down immediately. “quinn…”

he doesn’t respond, just kind of leans there. still in the same spot, eyes down, his arms still folded but looser now.

you turn in your chair and reach up to grab his hoodie gently, pulling him closer. he lets you. doesn’t even resist, just sighs and wraps his arms around your shoulders when you hug him, chin resting near your temple.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper. “it was a trend. everyone begged me to do it.”

“you’re lucky i love you,” he mumbles, still not pulling back.

“you do love me,” you smile, hugging him tighter. “so much that you made me pasta and suffered emotional damage.”

he laughs into your hair, the sound muffled and soft. “never trusting your tiktoks again.”

you smile into his chest. “that’s fair.”

JACK

you know exactly what you’re doing.

jack’s sprawled out on the couch in sweats and a devils hoodie, hair messy from his post-practice shower, arm draped behind your shoulders like he owns the place. he’s barely paying attention, scrolling aimlessly on his phone with the tv playing some random series you’re both half-watching.

you quietly flip your phone camera on, start recording, and glance up at him.

“i’m here with my current boyfriend,” you say into the mic, voice light, eyes innocent.

there’s a beat.

jack doesn’t even turn his head. just freezes. then lowers his phone slowly.

“wait.” he squints. “what the hell did you just say?”

you suppress a grin. “what? i said i’m here with my current boyfriend.”

he snatches your phone mid-recording and pauses the tiktok, staring at you like you just told him you were leaving the country tomorrow with a stranger.

“current boyfriend?” he repeats, louder this time. “why would you say current like that?”

“jack…”

“no, no, no. what is that supposed to mean?” he’s full-on sitting up now, eyebrows high, hands gesturing like you just ruined his entire peace. “current implies there’s gonna be a next. and there isn’t a next. do you understand me?”

you blink, biting the inside of your cheek. “it’s a tiktok trend.”

he scoffs. “i don’t care if it’s a government-issued announcement. don’t put that into the universe.”

you start laughing, but he’s not done. now he’s up on his knees, pointing at you like he’s giving a lecture.

“let me make one thing very clear,” he says, deadly serious. “if i die—if i die—you are going to be alone forever.”

“jack—”

“no, don’t ‘jack’ me. alone. forever. end of discussion.”

you’re doubled over now, laughing into the couch pillow.

“and if you do get another boyfriend?” he leans in closer, wild-eyed. “i’ll haunt both of you. your dreams, your breakfast, your netflix queue. every time he kisses you, the lights will flicker.”

“oh my god—”

“and if he tries to make you dinner?” jack snorts. “the stove’s getting possessed.”

you finally pull the phone back, still breathless, still grinning, and stop the recording for real. he flops back against the couch dramatically, arms crossed, muttering something about “current boyfriend, my ass.”

you crawl over into his lap and press a kiss to his jaw. “you’re my only boyfriend.”

“forever?” he mumbles, eyes still narrowed.

“forever.”

he nods slowly. “good. because i’m serious. the haunting thing? that’s not a threat. it’s a promise.”

LUKE

you’re lounging on the couch in luke’s hoodie, his legs stretched across your lap as he scrolls on his phone. it’s late, the apartment is dim, and your tiktok is already recording when you say it:

“here with my current boyfriend.”

he doesn’t even look up right away. just blinks at his phone, takes a sip of water, then casually says, “that’s funny. i’m here with my current girlfriend, too.”

your head snaps toward him.

“what?”

he finally meets your eyes, totally unfazed. “yeah. she’s great. cool vibes. might keep her for a little.”

you stare at him. “luke.”

he shrugs. “depends on how this week goes.”

your jaw drops. he’s joking. you know he’s joking. but he’s also not blinking, and now you’re staring at him, heart skipping, eyes narrowing.

he keeps going. “and if it doesn’t work out, i already downloaded hinge.”

“luke trevor hughes!” you gasp, shoving his leg off you as you stand up. “you’re actually unbelievable—i’m breaking up with you.”

he watches you stomp toward the hallway, one arm crossed lazily behind his head, the other still holding his phone. “oh no,” he says dryly. “please don’t leave me.”

you’re already halfway to the bedroom when he suddenly drops his phone, stands, and catches you around the waist with a quick, easy pull.

“nope,” he says, spinning you around and pulling you back into his chest like it’s nothing. “get back here.”

“let go of me,” you mumble, still pouting, trying to fight a smile.

“never,” he grins, peppering kisses across your cheek. “not letting my dramatic, jealous, adorable current girlfriend storm off in my hoodie.”

you groan. “stop calling me that.”

he laughs against your cheek. “why? you are my current girlfriend.”

“you’re such a menace. i hate you,” you mumble, arms folding as he holds you tight.

“yeah,” he smirks, resting his chin on your shoulder. “but i’m your menace.”

you roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away. he kisses the corner of your mouth, proud of himself.

“you’re going to have to make this up with a lot of cuddles and kisses” she comments with her face still riddled with annoyance.

“let’s start now” he nuzzles into her next before leading them back to the couch.

© 2025 M34TTHEWS

[dreammfyre]

hayloft ⊹ ࣪ ˖ frank langdon

anon request: what if langdon has a younger sister? what if that younger sister was in pittfest and got shot? what if, when she was brought to ptmc she was calling for langdon? // request here

summary: you are from the night shift and were called to attend to the victims of the shooting and someone you know, frank's younger sister, arrives in the emergency room.

warnings: request from anon, mention of blood, death, married!au (resident x resident). wc: +3200

You've never seen anything like this before.

Chaos surrounds you and just you in the middle of it. You had to be strong for both your patients and your own sanity; fight the pressure, think fast without the commodity of resources, diagnose in record time without the ability to do a damn ultrasound. Nothing, it was fucking hell in Pittsburgh and your body was in constant tension with no end in sight to this nightmare. ER had ended up becoming a war zone. Screams. Blood. Crying. Ambulance sirens blaring from outside non-stop. You had no idea how many hours you'd been working, you were about to leave when Dr. Robby announced the shooting at PittFest.

Males, women, teenagers, older people, fortunately no children so far. You ran into all your colleagues, the new doctors had to integrate too quickly into what is a crisis. The shortage of blood and the large amount of wounded forced you to donate blood knowing that it was not very legal, but if you could save someone's life you don't hesitate for a second, so you were next to Dana to take the needle out of your arm after filling the bag. The nurse forced you to take at least two minutes to rest, warning that if you started running right now you could pass out from blood loss.

Your leg is shaking waiting for the longest two minutes of your life. Stretchers pass back and forth, doctors run around, discussions about diagnoses, risky procedures, does McKay even have an ankle brace? Good heavens, it was too much.

"Okay, honey." Evans patted your shoulder keeping the bag of your blood. "You can come back."

You stood up straight into action, just as you left the room a stretcher enters from the ambulance entrance. It's Dr. Abbot pushing the unconscious woman into the red zone, you walk over to take the first vitals.

"What the fuck." You gasp at the sight of the patient's face.

Pale skin, stained with dried blood, messy brown hair, her cracked lips a pinkish almost white, her eyes blue, no, not just any shade of blue, that specific blue. It's not clear as the sky in summer, it's something more like the sea, yes, damn it. Since you met her the first thing you told Frank is that he and his sister have the same look. You could recognise her anywhere, walking down the street or in the middle of an emergency room about to collapse.

"Everything all right, Doctor?" Jack's voice makes you remember that reality was about to take you by surprise.

You put a hand to your mouth as your eyes filled with tears so fast it felt like you'd been holding back tears for ages. Your heart was about to burst out of your chest, your hands began to shake senselessly.

"T-that's Frank's sister." You said looking at your colleague. Abbot's face transformed as the words reached him, watching the woman bleed out on the gurney finding that undeniable resemblance between the Langdons. "Shit, it's Cam." You repeated, searching for her carotid pulse with your trembling fingers. “Cam Langdon.”

Wait a minute, did Camille go to PittFest? You don't remember discussing that with Frank, damn it, it didn't matter at all when you had her in your hands, you're not thinking straight. You put your ear to her mouth to listen for breathing; faint, but there it is.

"Gunshot wound to left flank." Jack felt the pressure even though he was more professional at keeping his cool. "Call Robby."

"There's that-"

He grabbed your wrist hard enough to stop you, looked into your eyes through the blood-spattered glasses. You stood still, terrified, you couldn't bear the thought of your husband losing his sister. You and Camille adored each other, you went shopping, you had shared more than one special occasion, she called you every week to know about you. Wow, she was the sweetest girl you'd ever met and you had her there, covered in blood with a bullet in her body. You couldn't lose her.

"Call Robby." Abbot repeated, this time it wasn't an order you could refuse. So you did, Mohan took your place with no idea what was going on.

You turned around trying to find your way through the mess. You came across Santos who asked for urgent help, you had to refuse without being able to speak, you could hear your heart beating so hard that for a moment the room was silent. The whole damn hospital was in ER, Yolanda resuscitating a patient, Javadi working with his own mother, Melissa running through the corridors almost slipping on the blood on the floor. Until you spot Robby in the crowd, you were so focused that when you finally get closer you realise that Frank is standing next to him.

You touch Dr. Robinavitch's arm, he turns around and only when he sees your face does he stop his work, leaving Langdon to take over. You gave a small nod of your head, Robby trusted his team and didn't doubt you.

"What's going on?" he asks walking up beside you.

"It's Frank's sister, shot in the abdomen. Weak pulse, Abbot's with her."

Robby looks at you in surprise, but forces to compose himself in that instant and come back to himself. He swallows, it's inevitable that he doesn't feel something.

Frank Langdon watched you walk away with Robby, no one knew you better than he did. Your quizzical look, that slight frown, the way you bit the inside of your cheek when you get nervous. You didn't even look him in the eye.

"Send him to surgery." He ordered the nurse.

Determined that something was wrong he began to walk in your footsteps, wiping his forehead with his gown trying not to get blood on his skin. He could see you in the distance getting closer and closer, Jack and Robby on either side of the gurney while you held a patient's head. Langdon was only going to lend help if you needed it and know how you were doing, nothing more, he was worried about his wife.

"How are they doing over here?" his question hung in the air as he recognised his sister's face.

"Langdon, get back." Robby warned pointing at the door.

It was more than obvious that those words were useless as Frank ran over to Camille pushing Jack aside. He took in his sister's face, his heavy eyes reacted to a familiar voice, looked at the deep bullet wound gushing blood like a waterfall in the belly.

"Cam? What the hell, Cam!" He grabbed her face, desperate. People turned around bewildered at the situation. "I'm here, stay here, it's okay."

Abbot took charge of performing the blood transfusion, but Frank was complicating it by moving the patient. They looked at each other in silence, no words were necessary to understand that they had to get Langdon away from his sister, you had to contain your sadness at the image of your husband upset with tears streaming down his skin and his hands trembling not knowing what to do, you couldn't blame him at all, on the contrary, you understood him better than anyone else. However, your profession forced you to keep a cool head even when everything was about to go to shit, you had to prioritise the life of the patient, even if she was the sister of one of the doctors.

"Langdon, c'mon." Jack had to put his foot down. Frank refused to move away from his sister, Robby began to put pressure on the wound trying to stop the bleeding as quickly as possible. "Trust in us."

Langdon looked at you expecting some support from you meeting with disappointment as you shook your head, he took off his glasses dropping them to the floor in a thud. Camille was still on the receiving end of your blood, Abbot tried to touch her shoulder in a sympathetic gesture receiving a refusal that was heard throughout the room.

"Don't touch me!" He raised his voice angrily at you. You'd never seen him like that, nothing like that, that's why he scared you. "She's my sister. I want to be with her."

Abbott had to push him off his chest to force him to get some distance so he could attend to her, which didn't go down well with an upset Langdon who was about to return the gesture with more force ready to start a fight in the midst of the chaos. Patients were still coming in, everyone had to do their job, you're not going to allow more violence in the middle of a bloodbath.

"Enough." You looked at both of them. Jack raised his arms taking steps back, you pointed your finger at him with a tense jaw and a stare so cold it looked like you were the boss of him, not the other way around. "We don't treat patients' families like this, what is this?" Robby was still tending to the gunshot wound, but he took the audacity to raise his gaze to Jack. Robby raised both eyebrows, surprised, why had you sounded so much like him?

The truth is that you are terrified.

You grabbed Frank by the arm, you had to be violent with him knowing that he has the upper hand on your strength and if he wants to, he can take you down. You dragged him into an empty break room, he was still dealing with shock, pale, cold sweating, his hair falling over his sticky forehead. He angrily took off his blood stained dressing gown and gloves throwing them in a trash can, he tried to get out but you stood in his way ready to stop him even knowing he is bigger and stronger than you.

"I have to go! Let me go!” Exclaimed angrily. He was elated, again, you weren't able to blame him, but you knew that if you let him go he wasn't going to be any help to anyone. It wasn't the first time you've dealt with a patient's relatives, but this time it's different, you can't be the professional doctor who keeps her composure. It's Frank, the man you love and it hurts you to see him distressed, suffering and what's worse is that you can't do anything to fix it.

You had to grab him by the wrists to stop him from banging on the door. He kept shouting, he was furious with everyone but even more so with you. Langdon didn't understand why you had him locked up when his sister was being cared for.

"I know you want to accompany her, but you have to let them take care of it." Your voice seemed to go unheard. "Frank, I'm talking to you."

"You think I want to talk?" Your back against the door was the barrier separating him, he's never going to lay a hand on you, and that's what bothers him the most because you know it. "Let me through."

You deny. Your throat so tight it burns, your hands sweaty and your gaze terrified.

"I'm sorry. But you have to wait here, in the family room."

"At least let me go out and keep seeing patients!" You raise your voice, but it doesn't sound angry, it's more akin to fear, desperation. If he couldn't help his own sister he should at least do something for the people who keep coming in. "Don't do this to me."

"You're shaking... your hands." You said watching his fingers twitch constantly, he was sweating and not able to sit still. "You can't attend to anyone." He turned his back to you for a few seconds, he ran his hand through his hair that falls across his forehead, terror starting to wash over him like a wave. "Frank?"

Your voice reflects uncertainty, now you understand what it feels like, now you understand what families go through in that room where time becomes a nightmare. Langdon turns away, shattered, his hands no longer shaking, his shoulders slumped; defeated. His blue eyes shine as never before as tears escape his control, it doesn't take you a damn second to move closer to him and when your body touches him he rests his cheek on your shoulder. You wrap your arms around his torso with his breath crashing against your bare neck, his hands clinging to you like a float in the middle of the ocean. Because that's what you are to Frank, ever since the first time it felt like that, a breath of air as he drowns.

"I didn't even know she was there." He whispers regretfully, his heart can't find peace but at least your scent was a help.

"Don’t blame yourself." You replied with a lump in your throat, you adore Cam too and it's inevitable not to share a part of his anguish. "Trust Robby and Abbot. Everything we know comes from them, it's in good hands."

Frank didn't have the strength to nod but he wanted to believe, he squeezed back into your body one last time before resting his forehead on yours. He's trying to control his breathing as his world falls apart, you took his face in your fingers, the closeness feels different, more intimate. Seeing him like this just breaks your heart in a way you've never known before.

"Have a seat." You said taking a step back. You took a deep breath. He nodded silently at you, shuffling his steps with no inclination to move even an inch. "I'll go check."

"No." He immediately responds taking you by surprise. "Stay... please."

"I'll only be a moment." You insist, but deep down you don't want to leave his side. He doesn't have the strength to keep fighting with you, he can't look at you, he's thinking about all the calls he has to make, about what he's going to do if he dies. His head is somewhere far away from the hospital. "Promise me that you won't move from here. He doesn't answer you, preferring to turn his back on you so you don't see his expression. "Frank."

"I'm not going anywhere." He answers you exhausted.

You leave before tempers explode between you. You closed the door behind you and leaned against the wall, covering your eyes with your hands and holding back tears. You had to force yourself to keep your composure, you couldn't grieve, but the image of Cam Langdon on that gurney was never going to go away from your head again. The words felt locked in your body, you didn't want to go because you were afraid of finding her dead and having to tell the man you love the most that his sister wasn't coming back. But you'd rather find out for yourself than force Frank to do it, you didn't want him to have the memory of walking around his workplace to find out if his sister is dead or alive, so you chose to do it yourself even though you know you're terrified. It was an act of love and your way of protecting him.

You don't know how much you can really take care of him, though.

Although there is a long armchair and a couple of chairs, Frank Langdon prefers to sit on the floor, his back against the wall and his backside against the cold white ceramic floor. He was rarely there, only when it's bad news, so he hates that room with all his heart; even more so now because every second feels like a storm. He thought about running away, sneaking through the chaos and finding news of his sister on his own, but he promised you and he didn't want you to come back and not see him there, shit, when he does that kind of thing he realises the power you exert over him because he's sure if someone else had asked him to stay locked up he wouldn't have hesitated to leave.

Knees against the chest, the phone clutched in his hands. Motionless, staring at the missed calls, all from his sister. His heart aches, he holds a hand to his chest, circling his uniform, clenches his jaw before bursting into tears. It's guilt washing over him like a wave bigger than his body.

His sister had called him more than ten times, but he was too busy attending to the first patients at PittFest.

What did he want to tell her, would anything have changed if he had attended? He would never know, it was too late.

Frank hits his head against the wall looking at the ceiling, his face feels wet and he only just realises that he is still crying. He is not able to call his parents, he doesn't have the words even though it wasn't the first time he was faced with that. Actually, Langdon was not the one who was going to deliver the bad news, he preferred not to, he is not good with words and does not know how to handle himself in tense situations between people, whereas you can do it much better. Now he understands when he finds you sad in the corridors, with your eyes downcast and shining, whenever it's your turn to give the bad news to the family you always end up sad.

And the idea that had been tempting him for so long, to go back to drugs, crosses his mind.

It wasn't complex, finding a cabinet and taking the flask out of the second level. No one would suspect, it would feel better than it does now where nothing seems to make sense.

He bites his lip just imagining it, not even thinking about you or his promise.

"No, no, no." He shakes his head, pushing those destructive thoughts away.

When you open the door you find Frank on the floor, his eyes red and he wipes away his tears immediately as if he doesn't want you to see him cry. Your gaze softens as he jumps to his feet, looks at you begging for information and you don't keep him waiting.

"She's in surgery, they managed to stabilise her." Your words were the biggest relief she's ever felt in her life. She relaxes her shoulders and doesn't hesitate to hug you once more, you return the gesture with emotion breathing in her scent letting yourself be enveloped by her warmth. "We have to wait until she's out of surgery and you can see her."

They let go and Frank paces back and forth, not knowing what to do. He holds his head, looks at you and wants to keep crying, this time in relief.

"I need to see her. Please, where is my sister?”

"You're going to, you have to wait." You repeated trying to reassure him, you didn't want him to get his hopes up either, but you don't want to take away his hope. "You'll be the first to know."

You had to force him to take a seat this time in the big armchair next to you. You were silent for long minutes, at no point did Frank let go of your hand. You remembered every time you entered this room, you were never the one waiting and now you understand the anxiety generated by those four walls.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you like that." He said, his deep voice made your body react. He turns his head towards you, his gaze apologising. "I didn't mean to, I really didn't."

"Frank, no." You cut off his speech of regret. "Did you talk to your parents?"

He denied. "I can't."

"The sooner they know, it’s better."

"I don't know what to tell them." He confessed angrily to himself.

"That's not true." Your answer made me look you in the eye. "You've probably been practising it since I left." A vague smile on your lips lasts a couple of seconds. "Do it for her. She needs you all together."

A small silence forms between you. She stares at you, narrowing her eyes, analysing your expression in an intriguing way.

"How do you always know what to say to me?" His question takes you by surprise because he means it completely seriously. "You have no idea how much you can calm me down. It even scares me."

You make sense of his words. You look at his clasped hands and realise he's right.

"It's like your chest stops hurting and you can breathe again, right?"

Frank nods in surprise at how accurately you describe it. "How do you know?"

"That's how you make me feel."

𐙚⋆°. MASTERLIST

[doyou000me]

Reset the series: episode 1 clown theory

Yes, I have a theory. Yes, already. Yes, it is based solely on what we've seen in episode 1. Yes, it's 97% made up by my brain. Yes, I should probably just call it a fanfic idea.

Let's move on. Spoilers for episode 1 ahead.

Let me propose: 3 timelines.

#1: the actual original timeline, which we have not seen yet in the series and which my brain totally just made up,

#2: the original timeline in episode 1, where we first meet Armin the jaded actor with his massive mansion and cheating boyfriend,

#3: the timeline that Armin gets sent back to in episode 1, when he wakes up in his 20-year-old body.

So! Timeline 1: Armin and Thada meet, fall in love and are happy together. Armin is an aspiring actor rising to fame. Thada is Mr CEO of Crown Enterprises, family issues included. Revenge/scheming leads to an attempt at Thada's life - but Armin, who has yet to fulfill his dream of becoming a famous actor, steps in front of Thada and takes the bullet for him - and dies. (which is foreshadowed in the one line scene where he takes the bullet for First's character)

Thada, a broken man, wishes for a second chance, steps into traffic - and gets RESET.

He wakes up in timeline #2, heartbroken and guilt ridden. He blames himself for Armin's death, and decides to support Armin from behind the scenes without ever actually meeting him (which would explain how he can know Armin before he becomes famous and become his first fan). Thada watches as Armin rises to stardom, finally accomplishing his dream of becoming a famous actor - but from the distance, Thada cannot see how empty and joyless Armin's life at the top has become.

Queue; the award, the drugged champagne, the cheating boyfriend, the fight on the balcony, Armin falling to his death to the flashing of cameras - and so Armin gets RESET.

We see him wake up in timeline #3 in episode 1, and he starts to see the potential of his "second" chance. He retains his memories from timeline #2, but here Thada does not retain his full memories of #1. He is simply... drawn to this man who seems so familiar to his heart.

And so the events play out. Armin navigates his twenties with his memories from #2. He falls for Thada, who is already smitten. He climbs to fame faster than ever, while Thada supports him... and tries to keep his family's scheming in check.

And so, the events of #1 repeat themself - Armin takes a bullet for Thada and dies (yes he dies in every timeline don't psychoanalyse me ok?)

He wakes up in a hospital - and realises that he has been RESET again. Only this time, he is back in #2. He is once more the famous factor with a massive mansion and an award. He didn't die, but has been in a coma. Meanwhile, his cheating boyfriend and backstabbing friend have been charged with manslaughter. First and Winner (what were their characters called?) are being investigated because of the drugs. And Armin... Armin now knows who "T.D." is.

He seeks him out, his lover from a different timeline, who he now knows has been watching all this time. They meet up (probably with Armin dramatically storming into Thada's very fancy office) and quickly realise that though their memories together are from different timelines, their love is true.

And so the bad guys get punished, and our boys get to spend the rest of their lives together, slowly reconnecting and getting to know each other again while figuring out how their timelines differ - probably over fancy dinner, expensive drinks and sexy baths in the private pool.

And that, my dears, is my clown theory based on Reset episode 1.

I bow, as the velvet curtains close on the silent theatre.

[tsukeilvr]

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. t.kei x fem!reader

fluff . oneshot (?) yearning series

note: i hope this isnt ooc glup

Tsukishima Kei, who swears up and down that he isn’t a romantic.

He rolls his eyes when Tadashi puts on a rom-com at their weekend movie nights, when he overhears their managers talking about the latest celebrity couple — even trivial matters, like when Tanaka & Nishinoya make heart-eyes at Kiyoko. “You’re such a killjoy, Tsukishima!” Hinata would say after practice, in response to his disinterested shrug when they asked him about his stance on love, a discussion that soon turned into an argument over which superhero they could take in a fight; oddly enough, they all said Spiderman. Admittedly, he was more interested in stating his input on that topic.

And yet, Kei, who groans in annoyance when his father sweet-talks his mother and practically sprints at the first sight of affection, somehow gravitates toward you. He only knew you as a mutual friend of Tadashi’s at first. Then, you two started talking. And, almost subconsciously, he starts doing the things he swore he’d never catch himself doing in the first place.

It started with a simple “Hey.” You called his attention mid-class, your voice a hushed whisper as not to catch the eye of your teacher. He didn’t even spare you a glance, continuing to write down notes as if you weren’t there.

You frown, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. How rude, you think. “Heey,” you repeat, this time reaching across the gap between your tables to nudge his side lightly—watching as he jolts subtly in shock. Annoyed, he finally turns to you with a frown. “What?”

Instead of calling each other out on both your rather rude—disruptive—approaches, you simply offered him a small, sheepish smile. “You look smart,” you point out the obvious, being that the both of you were in a college-prep class. “You have any notes?”

Kei stares at you as if you just asked if oranges were pink, and for a second, it looks like he’s about to ignore you once more. But, upon seeing the empty page in your notebook lacking the latest lessons, he sighs—a bit of empathy coursing through his veins. He takes out a few pages from his binder, passing it to you without a word.

And that’s where it all started; he’d send and pass you his notes when he noticed your lack of attention during lessons, and at some point, he doesn’t remember when, you started handing him small, strawberry-flavored sweets in return.

“What’s this?” he asked, tilting the small chocolate dessert in his hand. You glance up at him with furrowed brows, then back at your notebooks, switching between his bland notes and your colorful pages. “Chocolate, duh. Take it as my thanks,” you reply. “Tadashi said you like strawberry shortcake, but I didn’t have much time to make that.”

He pauses as he chews the strawberry-flavored chocolate, the sugar hitting his taste buds all at once — it’s fresh, sweet, and all new to him; most of all, it’s… homemade. You bake. You baked for him.

From that day on, he started listening to you more—specifically, caring more. He complained less when you’d talk his ears off over call while he studied, when you’d join him and Tadashi on the way home, even when you ended up worming your way into their movie nights—even when he started to inherit your taste in movies, which he claimed were ‘stupid’ and ‘lame.’

It was a Friday night, light rain pattering on the windows as cold air settled in the room. As per usual, you and Tadashi sat on Kei’s living room couch as the distant humming of the microwave echoed off the walls of the kitchen, while you skimmed through the movie options for the night. Kei waits patiently for the popcorn to be ready, his head leaned to the side as he listens in on the conversation.

Ever since you became a part of their duo—now trio—he’s become less standoffish towards you; truthfully, he never meant to appear that way; he just liked getting a kick out of you, ragebaiting, if you may. But now? Now, he’d never admit it, but he’s started to be fond of your presence. He sometimes finds himself listening to songs you mentioned liking once, writing down short explanations of equations and topics he knows you struggle with, and at some point, he started to offer his notes even if you didn’t ask.

And the truth is? You stopped needing them after a while, his presence somehow influencing you to pay more attention in class — but you always accepted when he’d hand them to you without a word.

“I just think that Dear Daniel is totally disregarded when people make those, like…” You flailed the remote around in the air, like your hands could illustrate your words. “Batman and Hello Kitty things. Like, uhhh, no? Kitty has Daniel.”

Tadashi is about to retort when the smell of buttered popcorn fills his senses, his gaze drifting to the source of the smell, watching as Kei sits down in between them, a large bowl of popcorn in his hands. He sinks into the cushions with a sigh, quirking a brow at the familiar, cheesy romance movie playing on the television screen. “This again?” he mumbles.

You frown and throw a tiny piece of popcorn in his direction. “Shut up, it’s my favorite! Tadashi said he hasn’t seen it either, so deal with it.”

Kei feigns annoyance, groaning as the movie starts—though he isn’t as bothered as he appears. He occasionally mumbles “Boring,” to grab your attention and annoy you, but it’s hard to miss how he not-so-subtly whispers in sync with the lines he’s heard over a thousand times. It’s hard to miss how he’d laugh a little when a silly moment comes on screen, and especially when he smiles upon catching the glint in your eyes when the characters finally confess their feelings — he wonders if he’d catch you looking at him with that same glint if he played his cards right.

He wonders how you, with no effort whatsoever, managed to make him feel like the hopeless romantic he never thought he’d become.

[gh0stvi0lets]

𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘯 𝘊𝘺𝘤𝘭𝘦,

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺. Even in a world full of monsters, sometimes love spins quietly between the rinse and repeat.

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨. Sam Winchester x reader

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦. fluff

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵. 388

𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴. Thanks to @g8taloadofdisguy for the idea, this so cute <3

─────── ⋆⋅ ♰⋅⋆ ─────────────────

You weren’t expecting your Friday night to be spent watching clothes tumble dry at a run-down laundromat off I-80, but here you were.

And somehow, it wasn’t all that bad.

Sam leaned against the humming washer, arms crossed, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His flannel was a little worn, and his hair was a bit longer than usual, falling into his eyes in soft waves. He looked...relaxed. At peace. Maybe for the first time in weeks.

“This isn’t exactly the most romantic date spot,” you teased, dropping a few quarters into the dryer and shutting the door with a metallic clang.

Sam grinned. “Yeah, but we’re not exactly the candlelit dinner type, are we?”

You tilted your head. “Speak for yourself. I can rock a little black dress and salt a ghost in the same night.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “True. But you also wore a Led Zeppelin shirt to our first hunt.”

You pointed a finger at him. “And you said it was hot.”

“Still true,” he admitted, and you caught the flush in his cheeks as he ducked his head.

You plopped down on the cracked plastic bench, leaning back, eyes on the machines spinning your lives into something vaguely clean. Sam sat beside you, his thigh warm against yours.

The laundromat was quiet, save for the hum of machines and the occasional buzz of a flickering overhead light. You both sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Just breathing. Just being.

“I like this,” you said softly.

Sam looked over at you. “What, the smell of detergent and mystery socks?”

You laughed. “No. Just... this. You and me. Somewhere simple. No blood. No salt. No screaming banshees or cursed dolls.”

Sam reached out and laced his fingers with yours, his touch gentle, grounding. “Yeah. I like this too. You make even the weirdest places feel like home.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands and smiled. “Cheesy, Winchester.”

“Maybe,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, “but true.”

The dryer buzzed, signaling the end of the cycle, but neither of you moved.

“Wanna fold later?” you asked, resting your head on his shoulder.

Sam smiled against your hair. “We can leave them wrinkled.”

You nodded sleepily. “Good. Wrinkled is fine.”

And for once, the world outside could wait.

[aesthetictarlos]

Allie my love I'm super laty to the party but congrats on 500 followers, darling! Very well deserved ♥

Can I ask for prompt number 5? 5 ⧽. feeding the other soup when they get even just mildly sick ? Thank you, Ily ♥

Gabbyyyy 💖 thank you so much!!

Okay so, I wrote a little bit more than 500 words and I'm not entirely convinced I did the prompt justice but I hope you enjoy! 🥺

Tommy wakes up to the smell of toasted bread, sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee. He smiles to himself, realizing it's one of those days when Buck feels like cooking.

His boyfriend loves to cook and food is one of his love languages but some days he really gets in the mood for cooking and he spends the whole day trying new recipes, prepping meals for the rest of the week, baking loaves for their neighbours.

Tommy loves seeing Buck wearing an apron, covered in floor, measuring ingredients and making a mess of their kitchen. It holds a domesticity that he cherishes completely and sometimes, when Buck is distracted, he takes pictures of him, tongue poking out of his lips, a smudge of flour on his cheek, eyes focused on what he's making.

He's also very glad to be the one who can taste everything Buck makes; he has a sweet tooth and having a boyfriend who likes to cook is a blessing. Sometimes he even gets the chance to help him, other times he's told to just stand there and look pretty, and honestly he doesn't know which of the two he likes best.

Today, though, he doesn't feel great. When he rolls over, a pang of nausea makes him wince and he suddenly realizes that his head is pounding and his nose is stuffy. He groans, forcing himself out of bed so that he can get a hug and a kiss.

“Morning, honey,” Buck says from where he's standing at the stove. When he turns around, meeting his gaze, his face falls. “Tommy… Are you okay?”

“Nope,” Tommy admits, scratching at his stubble. “I'm not feeling great and it smells delicious in here but I don't feel like eating.”

Buck turns off the stove and places the bacon onto a plate, then strides towards him and curls his arms around him, tugging him close and pressing a kiss to his temple. “Let’s go sit on the couch, we can watch some TV and then I'll make you soup.”

“You should eat your breakfast, I don't want all this food to go to waste,” Tommy replies, burrowing further into him. “Make yourself a plate, I'll grab a blanket and settle on the couch.”

Tommy wraps himself in a cocoon of blankets and when Buck joins him, he presses play to a documentary they've been trying to watch for the past three weeks.

“Come here,” Buck whispers once he finishes eating and Tommy's more than happy to fold himself into his boyfriend's arms, relishing in his warmth and letting himself relax completely.

He's listening to the calming sound of Buck's breath and the next thing he knows, he's woken up by gentle fingers in his hair and the smell of soup.

“It's time for you to eat something,” Buck says, pressing a kiss to his temple. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmh, tired but a bit better,” Tommy says, sitting up and making room for Buck. He spots a plate of soup on the coffee table and groans.

“Just a little bit,” Buck says, grabbing the plate and sitting next to him. “Let me do the hard work, okay?”

Tommy flushes as Buck takes a spoonful of soup, blows on it to cool it off a little bit, and then brings it to his mouth. It's delicious and he smiles as Buck repeats the process, over and over again until the plate it's empty and Tommy's stomach feels more settled.

“Thank you, Evan,” he murmurs, turning his head and pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's cheek. “You always take such good care of me.”

“I love you.”

“Me too, baby. Me too.”

[tryandbehappy]

I received a long ask in Russian, a breakdown of the episode and the idea that Nick is actually alive.

From what I understand, the theory is that June is telling the story through her book, and she deliberately hid the fact that she saved Nick, to protect him and run away with him. That’s why no one knows he’s alive.

I translated the theory with an AI, so don’t judge too harshly if something’s a bit off 😅

First the theory.

Then my opinion.

__________________________________________

Episode 10 Breakdown. Nick is alive :)

4:40 – Flashback with Nick, and he doesn’t board the plane.

7:00 – Conversation with Luke: Hannah is in Colorado. In Season 2, when June was burning letters in the kitchen and Nick grabbed them – we saw the word “Colorado” burning.

Let’s take the full chain of events with the letters:

Because of the forced help, June gets Omar hanged / Lydia drags her to the wall / she has a breakdown / burns the letters, Nick grabs them – again fire symbolism / Nick is forced to marry Eden / June is dying in the bushes / Nick saves her – this mirrors Nick’s own arc: info leak causes Jezebels’ deaths / he has a breakdown / his wife asks him to accept Gilead (i.e. they force him to “marry” the regime) / he nearly boards a plane to die / June saves him.

The letters are the center of this mirror.

The “mirror” song was sung by the girls at the bar, and June sang it too – to both Hannah and Nicole.

5:30 – June walking, voiceover. Boston commanders are dead. “God always needs sacrifices.” Only Lawrence’s silhouette remains.

9:40 – Conversation with Mark. “My son lives in Hawaii with my ex-wife. The best I can do is to break Gilead so he won’t have to live in it.”

• Hello Hawaii – mirror to Nick: his ex-wife and son are in Gilead. He walked away to do the best for his son.

• Watch June’s reactions and Mark’s nod. “Then we’ll rest.”

14:00 – Conversation with Serena. She offers condolences about Nick’s death.

June replies: “Nick reaped what he sowed. He led a life full of violence and lies.”

Serena: “If he had a choice – he would’ve chosen you.”

Their music plays, and June smiles to herself. Serena looks confused, glancing twice at June’s reaction.

June chose him. That’s the core of this season – and the entire show.

By the way, in Season 1 the word “choice” was repeated a lot.

Nick told June she didn’t have a choice whether or not to tell the Mexican delegation if she was happy. Later, when Nick tried to end their relationship for safety, June told him she had no choice.

In Season 1, they clearly chose each other.

From the end of 4 through 6.03, we see endless oscillation between their respective partners.

This is the core choice the characters must make, no matter what the writers say.

In 6.03, Nick says only she matters. Now it’s June’s turn.

In 6.06, she wavers and almost agrees.

Then comes the betrayal arc, and everything falls apart like a house of cards.

If she saved him on the trap (where they almost kissed), then that’s her choosing Nick.

Other choices (Gilead resistance, Hannah) were never in question.

19:00 – Conversation with Mark. He gives June a pass to enter her old district and says his title – Commander.

Watch June’s reaction: glowing, sighing, literally skipping away.

21:00 – Walk with Emily. It’s all about life with Nick and leaving one’s family.

Emily talks about her life as a Martha with a Commander friend and accepting her life away from her family – still loving and talking to them.

At the wall: “My understanding of the impossible has changed.” – Watch June’s reaction.

24:00 – Karaoke scene with the girls.

Lyrics: Heavenly mirror, tell me what love is. It brought me back. Can I survive the changes in life? Time makes us braver.

25:20 – In BG, June finds a red Handmaid’s dress and burns it.

She used to come to Nick as a Handmaid – even to the Magdalene, she wore a red coat.

Even her marriage with Luke might symbolize being a “proper wife.”

The song continues: I always feared change. I built my life around you. But time makes us braver. Children grow up…

41:00 – Goodbye with Luke.

“I underestimated you, I’m sorry.” Finally!

He says where he’s going, pauses – waiting for June to join.

She says she’s going the other way with Mark.

“Okay, we’ll meet at Hannah’s.”

Nick loved you and you loved him – June smiles blissfully. Not a grief smile.

She looks up to the sky – flashback to their family. Like a farewell.

47:30 – She walks to the Waterford house wearing a blue-green coat – a wife’s coat!

She’s going to Nick as his wife!

Remember their date in Magdalene with Nicole? Bingo!

She walks to the garage – and looks up at the window.

Same as in Magdalene.

She stops. Pauses – looks at the window. Ahhh.

Their theme plays – June/Nick music.

It’s clear now that it’s june who’s writing the book and in it, she’s describing her life and Nick’s death.

———————————————————————

And now, what I think about all of this.

No, I don’t believe that’s what actually happened. Even though this theory breaks down all the breadcrumbs and bones they threw at the osblaine fans really well. The symbolism, the parallels, the dialogues, the fucking music - all about them. Like they gave us our bones and expected us to choke on them.

Why don’t I believe the theory? Because I’ve been a shipper for a long time, and I’ve been in this place of denial before. Way back, I used to ship Beth and Daryl from The Walking Dead. If you watched it, you’ll know — they were this super compelling duo from completely different worlds, with amazing chemistry. She had a powerful influence on him and vice versa. There was a big age gap, and for a while the writers were clearly teasing something romantic between them. Lots of buildup, tons of hints.

And then? They chickened out or something else happened. Long story short, they killed off Beth. And no one could accept it. Like, really couldn’t. I swear to God, the internet exploded with theories about how it’s possible to survive a headshot. There were even “medical proofs” being cited that someone could survive it, and that Beth did. I don’t remember all the details now maybe someone else here does but I absolutely went through a phase where I believed she was alive. Because I was grieving so hard, and my brain just wouldn’t let me accept the truth. I wanted that ship too much.

I don’t think that’s what’s going on with Nick. Mostly because of how hard they’ve been trashing him in interviews. Like, how many times have they outright confirmed he’s dead? So no, I don’t buy it.

BUT — and this is important, let’s put it in bold or caps:

KEEP TALKING ABOUT THIS THEORY.

Because if the showrunners, the network, the producers, if they’re freaking out over the mess they’ve made and have no idea how to regain control, then THIS is a very real way to fix it:

Bring. Nick. Back.

We haven’t seen the body, right? And if there’s no body, then he’s not dead. You can always bring someone back. I mean, Dexter was literally shot in the chest at close range with a rifle, and this summer we’re getting a new season where he’s alive and escapes the hospital. After being exposed as a serial killer. If they can find a way to do that, they can find a way to bring Nick back.

So yeah. Take Max. Throw all the money in the world at him. Make it happen. I don’t give a fuck how you do it 😂

Fans just gave you a perfect excuse to make it work. You can absolutely stretch the logic, just wrap that owl around the globe and call it canon, right ?????

[gunilslaugh]

Hi bestieeee!! I saw your post about requests and had to come back and drop in! As a fellow (now ex) writer myself, I must admit that I’m always lurking the tag 🤭 so I’m back with a request!!

Could you write a fic about Jun Han coming home from a bad day at work and finding the reader waiting for him with a cute at-home date set up? Something sweet and cutie

Ty bestie! 😜

-gjh

Hii bestieeee!! I'm so happy to see you in my inbox! I hope that you have been doing well <3 Here's your request I hope that you enjoy :)

Han Hyeongjun Summary: After having a bad day Hyeongjun was more than ready to come back home to you. (idol au) WC:629 Warning:none

Band practice felt like it was never going to end. The muscles in his forearm were killing him from the repeated number of times they practiced their new song. He starts to think that his arm will give out before practice ends, but he doesn’t think that sounds so bad because at least he could go home afterwards right?

His arm finds a way to persevere through the rest of practice. Though it practically falls limp at his side after zipping up his guitar case. Still he finally gets to go home where he can be with you and recharge. 

He leans against the door of your apartment after letting himself in. He stands there just resting for a few moments before taking off his shoes. 

“You’re back,” you smiled at him, meeting him in the doorway.

“Yeah I’m back.” His hand reached out for you, fingers hooking ever so gently onto yours, yet for Hyeongjun it felt like latching onto a safety line. He didn’t have to worry about anything anymore. 

“Did you have a long day?” You reach up with your free hand to brush some strands of his hair away from his face. Hyeongjun nods, taking a step closer to you. A step closer to his solace. “I have good timing then,” you smiled, gripping his hand a bit more firmly as you began to guide him farther into your apartment. “I wanted to surprise you so.” You let the set up of your living room finish your sentence for you.

The lights were dimmed, his favorite anime was pulled up on the t.v. waiting to be watched, the couch had extra pillows, plushies and a cozy blanket set up. Candles with his favorite scent were lit and burning. Only adding to the homey atmosphere you had created. Hyeongjun was too busy taking in the sight of your living room to notice that you stepped away. 

“And I made your favorite.” You came around in front of him holding two plates of food, offering one out to him. Hyeongjun almost wants to cry. Not from sadness or the weight of the day he just had, but because he feels so loved by you. Not only did you wait for him to come home, but you took the time to convert your living room into a cozy oasis just for him and then you made his favorite food on top of that. 

“Come on, we can eat while we watch.” You lead the two of you over to your couch. Draping the blanket over your laps. That’s when Hyeogjun catches a whiff of the detergent on the blanket making him realize that you didn’t just get it out you washed it too. 

“Thank you,” he tells you. 

“Of course. I just wanted to do something nice for you,” you lean over to press a quick kiss onto his cheek. Hyeongjun’s lips tug into a smile for the first time that day. It’s a smile that stayed as you pressed play and as he ate. A smile that continues to stay as you pull him to rest on your chest after you finish eating. 

A smile that was still there when you asked him, “Do you want to move to the bed?” As your fingers ran through his hair. 

“No, I’m comfortable (at peace) here.” He nuzzled his face against you. It was a smile that only left his face when all of his muscles relaxed as he fell asleep to the sound of your beating heart and the feeling of your arms encasing him.

You were his safe haven. Hyeongjun could have the worst day imaginable, but as long as he was able to come home to you he knew that he would have a goodnight.

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin @junhanism @bee-the-loser

[lovergirl-co]

Naked in Manhattan

——————————————————————-

Dina x Reader

Naked in Manhattan

Mean girls, we watch it every night

and we both have a crush on Regina George

————————————————————————

Summary:: You finally graduated college and decided to visit your friend in Manhattan New York. Dina. you didn’t expect her to change as much as she did.

Tags:: scissoring, slight choking, smoking, weed mentioned, Dina first time with a woman (idk if I like that)

A/n:: I made this cause there is not enough Dina fics on this damn app.

you just graduated from college and bought a tiny studio apartment with enough space to fit a mini brand microwave and a couch.

while you were laying down in bed one day you suddenly remembered Dina happened to move to manhattan to.

so you texted her.

Hiiii D!!! I just remembered you live near by, can I come over. Just so we can “catch up” lol.

Dina’s phone lit up as the joint she lit up a few minutes ago rested between her fingers. She grabbed the phone answering quick

Dinaa💕 Heyy, ofc you can come over. When did you move here?

You texted back.

Not to long ago. But wtv. Thanks for letting me come over ill be quick!!💗💗

୨୧

You knocked on Dina’s apartment door “Coming!” Her loud voice made its way closer to the door.

Then the door then slung open as Dina stood in front of it. The smell of bath and body works candles smacked you in the face. “Come on in” she stepped aside smiling at you.

Her apartment was comforting. Sure it was giving ‘almond mom’ but it was nice to think about.

you sat your stuff down by the front door and kicked your shoes off, looking around “woah, you have nice view from your balcony” and she did, it was an over view from the city and a nice sunset.

“Wanna go out there?” She asked intriguingly.

୨୧

“Ew, you smoke actual cigarettes?” Dina asked. You smirked looking at her “better than weed” she audibly gasped at your comment, Dina playfully punched your arm “don’t even say that, cause you know it’s not true” scoffing, you put out the cigarette on the flower shaped ashtray next to you.

“You remember the one time you got so high you almost jumped out the window cause you thought the walls were closing in on you?” You reminded her. Dina laughed at your comment “uhm, i don’t think I remember that” you chuckled “maybe it’s because you smoke to much, it’s frying your brain” “oh, shut up” she emphasized. “Did you smoke before I got here?” You asked, smelling a faint smell coming off her clothes “maybe.” She answered. You looked at her confused “so yes?” Dina laughed off the situation “Whatever, we’re not here to worry about me, let’s talk about you” she  blurted. “Nothing to really talk about.” You added playing with your  jeans.

“Oh, yes there is. Like— she paused “like?” You repeated “like, how was your time in college. Did you get wasted and go to college parties and have the best time of your life?” She exaggerated, you snorted before answering her “uhm, no, actually I just did college things and stayed in my dorms for most of the time” her smiled dropped “boring much. Well uhm, did you meet anyone?” She bit her lip.

You looked up at her from your feet “uhm, yeah.” Dina’s stomach dropped, she was hoping you’d say no “what’s her name?” “Her name? Oh, uh, her name was Ellie, she was my roommate— “she was an ass though” that made her feel better. “Oh, cool.” She said with a fake smile that dropped when she realized you were looking at her “what?” She asked. You laughed “you just seemed almost jealous when I said her name” she giggled “I’m not jealous, why would I be jealous” “Better not be” the silence after your pause was loud, You broke the silence “so uhm, are you and Jesse still on good terms?” Dina blinked a couple times and rubbed her knees in a nervous way before laughing awkwardly “no, me and him broke up last month” you weren’t even surprised “that’s like, the longest yiu guys have ever been apart for” you joked.

“Yeah, uhm you wanna go inside it’s getting kinda chilly out” Dina remarks. Nodding you stand up and start to walk inside with her.

Once you two were inside, you just were already in matching pajamas that Dina bought, eating everything in sight and reminding each other of old memories from when you guys were 12 “—and oh my gosh, you remember that Lana song you used to sing?” She asked you excitedly. You laughed “the one that makes you cry?” Dina gasped “yes! That one!” “Man.. those singing days are long gone now” you sighed.

“Oh! You also remember when we used to watch mean girls every night?” Dina reminds you. “Hell yeh I remember, I used to have the fattest crush on Regina George” you laugh “me too!” Dina exclaims, you looked at her “you used to have a crush on Regina George too? I thought you liked like, Aaron Samuel’s or whatever” you add. “What? No. I hated Aaron he wasn’t even attractive, Cady had no taste.” She scoffs. you agreed nodding “you get me.”

She turns her head towards the speaker behind her “what do you wanna listen to?” You hum popping tiny candies in your mouth, she turns her head agian facing you “you look so stupid right now” Dina giggles at you and pulls out her phone to snap a picture.

“Dina! Delete it” you exclaim reaching for her phone. “Fine, fine— but only if you say the magic word” Dina teases “oh I know it— you pause “what is it then” she continues after you “fuck you”

Dina gasp dramatically crossing her arms “you are so rude, I’m keeping that picture till I die”

“Okay, fine. Just know I have worst pictures of you” you admitted. She looked at you and smiled “that’s just a lame attempt to try and make me delete the photo”

you rolled your eyes and bit your tongue “whatever you believe. Anyways, do you wanna watch something”

୨୧

The sound of lips smacking together filled the room.

“Mm— you taste amazing” Dina moaned into your mouth.

Well, Dina put on a movie and occasionally started to scoot closer to you, you didn’t think much of sense Dina was always a “touchy person” so of course you just played it off by scooting closer to her.

Then closer, and closer until you couldn’t anymore.

Eventually you two looked at each other and knew right then and there what you wanted.

Dina leaned in first, you hesitated not knowing if she knew what she was doing “D.. are you sure you want this?” You concerningly asked. She nodded her head so fast you swear she got whiplash for a moment.

Then it happened, a kiss, then another, then other, and then Dina’s tongue slipped in.

So now you two have been French kissing in criss cross for 2 whole minutes.

Your hands roamed Dina’s body. The shorts she was wearing, the promise necklace you gave her when she was 15. Everything, you loved everything about her.

You’ve always wanted this, so when she leaned in for a kiss you secretly did a backflip in your head celebrating.

She pulled away from the kiss to take a breath “I wanna try something” you glanced at her “what is it?”

“Take off your clothes” she demanded. “fast much? You joked. But you did it anyways, you slid your shirt off your head and practically ripped off your shorts.

“You’re beautiful” she whispered. Dina then did the same, and slid off her clothes.

She breathed out “lay down”. You layed down slowly occasionally peeking at her and the reactions she was having. And by the looks of it, she’d never been with a woman.

“D, you look nervous about this, are you sure you want this?” You nervously chewed in your lip holding yourself up on your elbows.

She just smirked at you “I think I know what I’m doing” you laughed “Yiu think or you know?” “I think I know so.”

୨୧

“You like that?” Her voice was shaky and broken from all the sounds and screaming she was doing.

Her clit was bumping against yours in a rhythmic motion.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, apparently she definitely did know what she was doing. Cause, her hips were moving like she was a natural and she could keep her balance pretty steady.

You sucked in as your nails dug into her sides, “just like that baby your doing so good”

She moaned at hearing your words.

You guys brains were straight blank, and the wet sounds didn’t make that any better.

The sheets beneath you guys were done for and your underwear was probably half way across the room. And Dina’s phone has been going off like crazy.

At this point, you weren’t watching the movie, the movie was watching you.

“Fuck m’ gonna cum” you cried out “Look at me, I wanna see you cum for me.” Dina grabbed your neck as she began to move faster against you.

“Dinaa” you said out her name in a singsong voice.

Then your second orgasm waved over you.

Dina’s was seconds after you as the grip she had on your neck loosened. Her thighs trembled around your waist.

she stayed there for a few before climbing off of you and laying by your side.

Dina pulled you in closer “Was that okay?”

You smiled weakly “I’ve had better” Dina frowned “that’s not funny”

”Uhm, you probably wanna see who was blowing up your phone” you mentioned.

She turned around and grabbed her phone off the nightstand, her phone case facing you. A Polaroid picture of you and her.

You snorted before asking her “who was it?”

Jesse. Hey Dina, you’re probably asleep right now. So when you wake up I want you to text me back. I wanna apologize.

She stuttered “No one. Just a friend”

You scoffed “alright.”

“I’m gonna go get something to drink. Do you want anything?”

she was on her phone, not paying attention at all “hm? Oh, a water is fine”

You nodded.

she was texting Jesse back.

Now she was stuck.

It was either you or Jesse.

⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔

a/n:: this was very rushed so if the sex scene makes no sense you have every right to bully me lol (not actually tho🙏🏾✌️) if there is any spelling mistakes I apologize (same goes for commas and what not)

@graciedollie @ellieswife4ever @lluxentzz @korn-dawg @look-me @liliofabby @cassieyapsz

[fireniceicenfire]

Disturbances

Hi guys!! This is my first ever post on here and I am so so so so so happy I really hope you guys or whoever is reading this likes this!!! If y'all have any requests too lmk!!!

TW: Just a bit of cursing, but the rest is fluff :3

"So I thought you came over to hang out with me..." Art said as he shifted against the mattress beneath him. He turned his head, his eyes falling on you. He watched as you lay beside him, facing the opposite direction. You were wearing one of his Stanford Tennis sweatshirts and wrapped in his comforter. When he spoke, you turned your head 90 degrees and responded.

“I am.”

'Seriously?' Art thought. He furrowed his eyebrows slightly and scooted closer to you.

“Are you now? It just seems like you're using me for my bed and my sweatshirts. "He said with a small laugh. Once he moves closer to you, he drapes his arm over your torso and leans his face in the crook of your neck. Somebody was a bit clingy. He did have a rough day today - he lost two games in a row. 

“Well, what do you want me to do, Art?” You said as you turned over ever so slightly.

“Anything, everything, actually hang out with me.” He murmured into your neck, his warm breath splaying out against your skin.

You let out a dramatic sigh, acting as if it was such a burden to turn around and show him more attention. You roll over, a smile on your face as you see the way he's looking at you. No matter how you look or what you're doing, he looks at you like you're some queen. It was honestly the hottest thing you've ever seen. He sees the smile on your face and returns it with one of his signature grins. He was the cutest. But just then, the door of Art’s dorm swings open, a voice erupting through the door. You knew who it was immediately. 

“Yo Art! Let's go to that fucking party down the street! There's gonna be some hot ass chicks there-”  The obnoxious man yelled out. It was none other than Art's best friend, He was the ice to his fire. Patrick Zweig. Me and art and both sit up and stare at Patrick. His eyes dart between us for a second before he continues speaking.

“Oh. So no party?” Patrick said as if the answer wasn't obvious. 

“Nah man, I'm busy.” He blatantly says.

Patrick shifts on his feet. “If this is something about her going, I don't care, she can come too.”

“Patrick no.” He repeated.

Patrick let out a small huff, annoyed that Art was busy with somebody other than him. He grumbles a goodbye before walking off all butt-hurt.

“And you're sure he's not gay for you?” I say with a chuckle.

Art laughs with me before pulling me back down against the bed. “Sometimes I don't know.” He jokes. He pulls you against his chest, coddling you close.

“Whatever, the dude can get over it. I need some time alone with my girlfriend.” He murmurs as he leans his head on top of yours.

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

Fives always kisses the reader on the forehead before mission - they’re friends but theres a little bit of tension- but then he gets badly injured and the reader spends the night next to his bed, incapable to leave him, and when he’s still not waking up she kisses his forehead and bammm the flirt is awake and they just have stars in their eyesssss

“Kiss It Better”

Fives x Reader

Fives always kissed your forehead before a mission.

He never made a big deal out of it. No lingering looks, no awkward pauses. Just a brief touch—soft and warm—right in the center of your brow as he passed, like it was the most natural thing in the galaxy. And maybe it was. He kissed Jesse’s helmet for luck once. Echo got a punch in the arm. You, apparently, got forehead kisses.

It had started on Kamino. First deployment. You were shaking in your boots, pretending not to be terrified. Fives—cocky, charming, and stupidly handsome in the way all the clones were but only he knew it—had given you that trademark grin, leaned in, and brushed your forehead with his lips. Just for luck, he’d said. Nothing more.

But he kept doing it.

Every mission.

And every single time, your heart skipped a beat.

“Ready to go, cyar’ika?” he asked one morning, helmet tucked under one arm, the other reaching out toward you.

You scoffed, stuffing extra medpacs into your bag. “Don’t call me that unless you mean it, Fives.”

“Oh, I always mean it,” he winked, stepping close.

He bent, warm fingers brushing your cheek as he kissed your forehead again, soft as breath.

“I hate you,” you whispered automatically, voice unsteady.

“Liar,” he said, and then he was gone.

⸻

That mission was supposed to be a quick recon. In and out. But the Separatists had gotten smarter—or maybe just luckier—and the outpost exploded before anyone could retreat.

You saw the blast before you saw the blood. Smoke. Screaming in your comms. And then Jesse’s panicked voice yelling, “Fives is down! I repeat, Fives is down—!”

You didn’t remember running. Just the taste of ash in your mouth and your hands shaking as you dropped to your knees beside the twisted figure on the ground. His armor was charred. His face—oh, stars, his face—was bloodied, lashes fluttering as you pressed your hands to the wound in his side.

“Stay with me, Fives,” you begged. “I swear to the Maker, if you die, I will hunt you down and bring you back just to kill you again—”

He didn’t respond. He was already unconscious by the time the med-evac arrived.

They stabilized him.

But he didn’t wake up.

Not that night. Not the next.

You refused to leave the medbay. You were a medic—technically off-duty—but no one dared argue. You sat beside his cot, curled into the too-small chair with your knees drawn up, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the sheets.

You were numb. Exhausted. And heartsick in a way you couldn’t explain. Because this was Fives—flirtatious, charming, annoying Fives—and the thought of him gone made something deep in your chest crack open.

You realized, sometime around the second sleepless night, that maybe you hadn’t hated those forehead kisses at all.

Maybe you’d been waiting for the day they meant something more.

⸻

You fell asleep with your head beside his arm, one hand resting lightly on his.

The beeping of the monitors was your lullaby. That, and the quiet sounds of clone medics passing in and out, voices hushed out of respect or fear. No one knew if he’d wake up. The damage was internal. The bacta was doing what it could. But his body… it was tired.

He just needed a reason to come back.

You looked at his face in the sterile light. Even pale and bruised, he still looked like Fives. There was a hint of a smirk in the curve of his lips, a stubborn quirk in his brow.

And suddenly, you knew what to do.

You leaned forward.

Your breath caught.

And for the first time, you kissed his forehead.

Soft. Lingering. Like a promise.

You whispered, “Come back to me, Fives. Please.”

You drew back slowly.

And that’s when his eyes fluttered open.

You froze.

So did he.

His gaze—bleary, confused—found yours almost immediately. And despite everything—despite the pain, the haze, the IV lines—he smiled.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he rasped.

Your breath hitched. You stared at him in disbelief, tears instantly blurring your vision.

“You—kriffing idiot,” you gasped, half laughing, half sobbing. “You weren’t supposed to—!”

“You kissed me,” he interrupted, voice low and hoarse, but unmistakably smug. “That was new.”

“I was saying goodbye,” you lied, cheeks burning.

“Liar,” he whispered, echoing himself from before. His fingers moved slightly, brushing your hand. “I heard you. You said please.”

You pressed your lips together, throat tight.

“I missed my forehead kiss before the mission,” he murmured, trying to sit up.

You pushed him gently back down, blinking away tears. “You nearly died. Maybe don’t flirt while you’re still bleeding internally?”

He gave a weak chuckle, but it turned into a groan.

You cupped his cheek carefully. His skin was warm under your palm. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I scared myself too,” he whispered, sobering.

There was a pause.

Then, quietly:

“You kissed me first this time.”

You swallowed hard. “Maybe it meant something.”

He tilted his head, eyes glinting despite the exhaustion.

“I was hoping it did,” he said softly. “Because every time I kissed you before a mission, I wanted it to mean more.”

You blinked.

Then smiled, slowly.

“Stars in your eyes, Fives?” you asked gently.

“Only when I’m looking at you.”

You leaned down again, and this time your lips brushed his—barely there, a feather-light kiss.

His hand squeezed yours, and he sighed, utterly at peace for the first time in days.

You didn’t leave his bedside for the rest of the night.