#“comfort character” and he’s never had a day of comfort in his life

[kiwriteswords]

Hotch and Reader are both in love with each other and have been for years but are both too professional and care too mcuh about work and ruining things so they dont get together but they end up getting together finally. its angsty and delicious!! with a happy ending ofc! (bonus if smut is added at all!?!?!)

I love you in a place where there's no space or time

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: So sorry this one took so long to share, anon! I hope it's all you hoped for! xx

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 13.6k

Tags/Warnings: Canon-typical violence, canon-typical themes, hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff, angst, feelings un-acknowledged, canon-typical injuries, language, fade-to-black smut, sexual themes, friends with benefits, friends with benefits turned relationship, slow burn, family dynamics, intimacy with feelings, proposal, talk of marriage.

Sypnosis: Aaron Hotchner has always been a man of order and control, carefully compartmentalizing the demands of his work and personal life. But when a long-standing partnership with a member of his team—you—begins to blur the lines between professional and personal, he’s forced to confront feelings he’s buried for years.

Aaron Hotchner had always been good at compartmentalizing. It was a skill he'd honed over years of leading the BAU, of balancing the chaos of his work and the fragile peace of his home life—or what passed for home these days. And you? You were a complication he never anticipated but somehow couldn’t imagine his life without.

You’d been with the team for years, carving your place with sharp wit, unwavering competence, and a sense of humor that could soften even the darkest days. Somewhere along the way, your partnership had morphed into something more. Late nights at the office became late nights at his apartment, pouring over files as Jack played in the living room. Work dinners turned into shared takeout meals, laughter filling his kitchen. And the tension—the chemistry between you both—it became a thread stretched taut, always on the brink of snapping.

But neither of you ever said a word.

Hotch couldn’t pinpoint when it had started, exactly. Maybe it was the time you showed up with a Batman figurine for Jack, just because he’d mentioned liking the character once. Or the way you sat with him on the couch after Haley’s death, saying nothing, just being there when he needed it most. Or the way you touched his shoulder during a case, grounding him when his anger threatened to boil over.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was that now, you were a constant in his life, and he had no idea how he’d let you become that. Friends with benefits, the team might have called it if they weren’t too polite to say it out loud. But it wasn’t just the sex—though that was undeniable. It was the quiet moments. The way you fit seamlessly into his life, into Jack’s life. Like you belonged.

Like you were family.

Hotch watched you now, sitting cross-legged on his living room floor, a game controller in hand, as Jack giggled beside you. You feigned frustration as Jack’s character beat yours on the screen, throwing your hands up dramatically.

“You’re cheating,” you teased, pointing an accusatory finger at Jack, who grinned up at you.

“I am not!” Jack protested, his voice full of glee. “You’re just bad at this.”

“Bad at this?” you gasped, clutching your chest as if he’d mortally wounded you. “I’ll have you know I used to be the reigning champion at this game.”

Jack tilted his head, squinting at you skeptically. “When? Like, a hundred years ago?”

Hotch couldn’t hold back a laugh from the couch, shaking his head as he sipped his coffee. “Careful, Jack. She might just ground you for that one.”

You spun around, pointing the controller at Hotch like a weapon. “Oh, don’t you start with me. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m on Jack’s side,” he said smoothly, the rare smile tugging at his lips, softening the tease. “He’s clearly the underdog here.”

Jack beamed, puffing out his chest. “See? Dad gets it.”

“Traitors,” you muttered, shaking your head dramatically before turning back to the game. “Fine. But if I win the next round, you both owe me ice cream.”

Jack laughed harder, leaning against you as if you’d always been there. “You’re not winning,” he declared. “And even if you do, I pick the flavor. No weird ones.”

“No weird ones? Jack, I have excellent taste. Mint chocolate chip is a classic.”

“Mint chocolate chip is gross,” Jack said, sticking out his tongue.

You gasped in mock outrage. “Okay, now you’ve gone too far.”

Hotch set his mug down, leaning back into the couch as he watched the scene unfold. This was his favorite view: you and Jack, a picture of domesticity he didn’t dare name.

The ache in his chest was familiar by now. Warm, heavy, and terrifying all at once.

Later, after Jack had gone to bed, Hotch found you in the kitchen, drying the dishes. It was a quiet ritual you’d fallen into over time, one neither of you had ever acknowledged aloud. The hum of the dishwasher and the soft clinking of plates filled the space between you, but it was far from silent. The weight of everything unspoken lingered, just like it always did.

Your shoulder brushed his as you reached for a glass, the simple contact sending ripples of awareness through him. It was ridiculous, he thought, how something so small could affect him so much. But that was how it had always been with you.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said softly, though he already knew the answer.

You glanced at him, a hint of amusement in your expression. “You know I don’t mind.”

Of course, you didn’t. You never minded. Whether it was a case of collapsing into bed together after a high-stakes day or nights like these—quiet, uneventful, and free of tension—you always stayed. It wasn’t just about the times the chemistry boiled over; it was about all the moments in between. The ones that felt effortless.

Hotch set the last plate on the drying rack and turned toward you, wiping his hands on a towel. “Jack really likes having you here,” he said, his tone conversational but deliberate. “He talks about you all the time.”

“And you?” you asked lightly, with a teasing lilt that tried to downplay the weight of your question. “Do you like having me here?”

His brow lifted, a rare smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Why wouldn’t I? You help with chores and keep Jack entertained. I’m getting the better end of the deal.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you bumped your shoulder lightly against his. “Deflect all you want, Hotchner. I know you’d be lost without me.”

He allowed himself a small chuckle, one that softened the sharp edges of his usual demeanor. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he replied, though his voice held more warmth than his words. “But I like having you here. More than I probably should.”

That caught you off guard for just a moment, but you recovered quickly, the teasing smile returning to your lips. “Good,” you said simply, returning to dry the last dish.

By the time the house had settled into silence, Hotch found himself in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as he unwound from the day. He heard your soft footsteps before you appeared in the doorway, your presence familiar and steady. You didn’t pause or hesitate, instead crossing the room to climb into the bed—his bed, though it had long since stopped feeling like just his.

You always stayed, and it had become a routine neither of you commented on. The guest room was just there for show, untouched and unnecessary. Some nights, the pull of tension between you snapped, leaving no room for words or space. Both of you would end up breathless and wanting in bed. Other nights, like this one, were quieter. Still, you stayed.

“Are you just going to sit there all night?” you asked, your voice low and tinged with humor. You were already lying on your side, propped up on one elbow, as you watched him with a curious gaze.

Hotch smirked faintly, shaking his head as he joined you, slipping under the covers. “I thought you might enjoy the peace and quiet,” he replied, his tone dry.

“I don’t think you’d know what peace and quiet were if it hit you in the face,” you shot back, though your words held no bite.

He settled beside you, his arm coming around you instinctively as you shifted closer. It was a gesture that felt as natural as breathing now, one neither of you ever acknowledged, but both seemed to rely on.

“You know,” you murmured, your voice soft against the stillness of the room, “it’s kind of funny how we never talk about this.”

“This?” he echoed, though his hand lightly tracing circles on your back betrayed the calmness of his tone.

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely to the two of you. “Me staying. Us… whatever this is.”

Hotch was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered his response. “Talking about it might ruin it,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled at that, the kind of smile he couldn’t see in the dark but could feel in the way your body relaxed against his. “Maybe.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full of the things neither of you dared to say aloud. And as you shifted closer, resting your head on his chest, Hotch allowed himself the brief indulgence of pretending that this—your warmth, your presence—was something permanent. Even though he knew it wasn’t.

Your company was appreciated and needed more than Hotch knew, even at work. The case was brutal. A family annihilator who preyed on vulnerabilities, using twisted logic to justify his violence. Hotch could feel the weight pressing down on him, but he didn’t have to carry it alone. You were there, as you always were, your presence steadying him.

When the unsub was in custody, and the team returned to the precinct, you lingered in the corner, watching him. He could feel your gaze like a physical touch as if you were daring him to break the silence that stretched between you.

“You okay?” you asked finally, your voice soft. Never prying. 

He nodded, but the truth hung in the air, unspoken. He wasn’t okay. Neither were you. But that was the deal, wasn’t it? To keep moving forward without acknowledging the things that could break you.

That night, back at the hotel, the weight of the day lingered on Hotch’s shoulders, pressing harder with every passing moment. Cases involving families always hit him differently, carving into the parts of himself he worked so hard to protect. But tonight, something else tugged at him—a sharper, deeper ache he couldn’t shake. It was you. It was always you.

He’d known you’d come. You always did on nights like this, when the line between partner and something more blurred into nothingness. The knock on his door was soft but unmistakable, and when he opened it, there you were, leaning casually against the doorframe as if this wasn’t an unspoken ritual.

“You weren’t going to sleep anyway,” you said, your voice low, tinged with exhaustion but still carrying that edge of teasing familiarity.

“Neither were you,” he replied, stepping aside to let you in.

The door closed softly behind you, but the tension in the room was anything but quiet. It filled the space between you like a storm waiting to break. You shrugged off your jacket, tossing it onto the chair in the corner, and Hotch couldn’t stop his eyes from lingering on you—the curve of your shoulders, the set of your jaw, the flicker of vulnerability in your expression you probably thought he wouldn’t notice.

“Rough day,” you said, breaking the silence as you turned to face him.

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “They always are.”

You crossed the room, your steps slow and deliberate, until you were standing just in front of him. “But this one was worse,” you said softly, your voice lacking the teasing edge it usually carried. “For both of us.”

Hotch didn’t answer, because he couldn’t. The words caught in his throat, the weight of everything unsaid pressing harder than ever. But you didn’t seem to need his response. You looked at him for a long moment, your gaze steady, searching, and then you moved closer.

It happened all at once and yet not at all suddenly, as though it had been building for hours. His hands found your waist, gripping you tightly as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was fierce, almost desperate as if he was afraid you might vanish. And you let him, meeting his intensity with your own, your fingers threading into his hair, holding him as tightly as he held you.

It wasn’t just adrenaline from the case or the pull of attraction that neither of you could deny. It was the unspoken understanding that this—whatever it was—was the only way either of you knew how to deal with the weight of the lives you led. It was raw, honest, and utterly consuming.

You tugged at his tie, loosening it with practiced ease, your movements steady but charged with purpose. His breath hitched as your hands brushed against his chest, unbuttoning his shirt with a deliberate slowness that had his pulse racing. His own hands mirrored your urgency, sliding under the fabric of your blouse, feeling the heat of your skin against his palms.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough but soft, his forehead pressing against yours as he paused just long enough to look into your eyes. The question wasn’t about this moment—it was about everything. About stepping closer to the line, you both swore you wouldn’t cross but had already blurred so many times.

You didn’t answer with words; instead, you pulled him back into a kiss, which was softer this time but no less consuming. Your lips moved against his in a way that spoke of trust, of understanding, of a desire too strong to deny. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones as he deepened the kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t say aloud into the way he held you.

When you pulled away just enough to whisper against his lips, your voice was low and steady. “I’m here, Aaron. Always.”

His name on your lips sent a shiver down his spine, and something inside him gave way. He guided you toward the bed with a gentle but unwavering urgency, his hands never leaving you. The soft glow of the room’s lamp cast warm shadows across your features as you looked up at him, your expression a mix of vulnerability and certainty that made his chest tighten.

The rest of the world disappeared as you both surrendered to the moment. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered breath was a testament to the connection you shared—a connection that went beyond words, beyond labels, beyond anything either of you could easily explain.

When you reached up to touch his face, brushing your fingers against the faint stubble along his jaw, he leaned into your touch instinctively. “Aaron,” you said again, his name a quiet anchor pulling him further into you.

He tilted his head down, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice low and raw, the words escaping before he could stop them.

“I think I do,” you replied softly, your hands moving to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. “Because it’s the same thing you do to me.”

The admission hung between you like a fragile truth, one neither of you had dared voice before. But instead of shattering the moment, it only seemed to deepen the connection that pulsed in the quiet space between your bodies.

Hotch’s hands found the hem of your blouse, his movements deliberate as he slid it up and over your head. His fingertips brushed your skin, the contact sending sparks of warmth that spread through you. You reached for the buttons of his shirt, your touch steady despite the tremor of anticipation that hummed in the air.

When you finally settled on the bed, his weight pressing into the mattress beside you, the world outside the walls of the hotel room ceased to exist. The past, with all its heartache and shadows, faded away, leaving only the present—this moment, this connection, this intimacy you both shared.

Hotch leaned over you, one hand bracing himself beside your head, the other trailing along the curve of your side. The way he touched you was reverent like he was committing every inch of you to memory. His lips found yours again, the kiss softer this time, more deliberate, as if savoring the quiet intensity of the moment.

But there was something else beneath that tenderness—a tension he could no longer hold back. His lips pressed harder against yours, the kiss deepening with a newfound urgency. His hand slid from your side to your thigh, gripping it firmly as he pulled you closer as if closing the space between you would somehow quiet the storm raging inside him.

When you gasped softly against his mouth, he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His dark eyes, usually so controlled, were filled with something raw, something unguarded. "Tell me if it’s too much," he said, his voice rough, the words both a request and a warning.

Your answer came not in words but in the way you hooked your leg around his waist, pulling him closer, your hands gripping his shoulders as if daring him to let go. “It’s never too much,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the flush of heat in your cheeks.

That was all the permission he needed. His hand slid up your thigh, his grip firm but not harsh, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His lips found yours again, but this time, the kiss wasn’t soft—it was demanding, consuming, as though he was pouring everything he couldn’t say into the way his mouth moved against yours.

Hotch’s other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to give him better access as he trailed kisses down your jaw and neck. He paused at the hollow of your throat, his breath warm against your skin. When his teeth grazed just enough to make you shiver, he chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. “Still okay?” he murmured, though the way his hands gripped your waist betrayed his struggle to hold back.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely audible as you arched into him. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. The restraint that usually defined him seemed to unravel as his kisses grew rougher, his hands exploring with a certainty that left no room for hesitation. He shifted, guiding you further back onto the bed, his body pressing into yours, solid and unyielding. The way he moved, the way he touched you—it was as if he was trying to claim you, to prove that this moment, this connection, belonged to both of you and no one else.

As his lips returned to yours, his hands found yours, pinning them gently above your head. His weight and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver of anticipation through you. "You’re mine tonight," he said, the words rough but filled with a quiet reverence that made your breath hitch.

“And what about tomorrow?” you teased softly, though your voice trembled with the weight of the moment.

Hotch’s grip on your hands tightened just slightly, his expression darkening with something that looked dangerously close to vulnerability. “Let me have tonight first,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, and at that moment, nothing else mattered but the way he made you feel—seen, wanted, and completely his.

The rest of the world disappeared as you both surrendered to the moment. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered breath was a testament to the connection you shared—a connection that went beyond words, beyond labels, beyond anything either of you could easily explain. Times like this, when cases were especially bad, it was a little rougher than tender, but neither of you seemed to mind.

The silence in the room was heavy but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that came after something unspoken had been shouted without words. Hotch’s chest rose and fell steadily beneath your head, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin, grounding both of you in a moment that felt suspended in time. The storm of the night had calmed, leaving in its wake a raw, unfiltered intimacy that neither of you could explain—or acknowledge.

But then you shifted.

The movement was subtle at first, just a slight pull away from his side, but it was enough to snap him out of his haze. He felt your warmth leave him as you turned, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He watched as you reached for your clothes, your movements slow but deliberate, your back to him.

“You’re leaving?” The words came out gruffer than he intended, his voice low and edged with something he couldn’t quite define—something dangerously close to vulnerability.

You hesitated, your fingers pausing on the fabric in your hands. “I should,” you said quietly, though your tone lacked conviction. “We both need sleep. It’s been a long day.”

Hotch sat up then, the sheet pooling around his waist as he leaned forward. “You usually stay,” he said, his voice softer now, but still carrying the weight of a question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, your expression guarded, but your eyes betrayed you. They always did. “It’s different tonight,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He frowned, his brows drawing together. “Different how?”

You stood, pulling on your shirt as if the action might shield you from the conversation you were both teetering on the edge of having. “I don’t know,” you said finally, shaking your head. “It just… it feels too close. Like if I stay, it’ll mean something.”

Hotch swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet firmly on the floor. He reached for your wrist, his grip gentle but firm enough to stop you. “It already means something,” he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil swirling in his chest.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t turn to face him. “We don’t talk about this, Aaron. That’s the deal.”

“I know,” he admitted, his grip loosening just enough to let you pull away if you wanted. “But tonight—” He paused, the words catching in his throat. “Tonight, I don’t want you to go.”

That stopped you. You turned slowly, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, the weight of everything you both refused to say hung between you. You looked at him like you were trying to decipher some unspoken truth, but he didn’t flinch under your gaze. He couldn’t. He needed you to understand.

“I don’t know if I can,” you said finally, your voice wavering.

“Yes, you can,” he said, standing now, closing the space between you. His hands found your shoulders, grounding you just as yours had grounded him earlier. “Just for tonight. Stay.”

Your walls were up; he could see it in the way your jaw tightened, and your shoulders tensed. But he could also see the crack in your resolve, the way your lips pressed together as if to keep from saying something you might regret. You nodded slowly, and his hands dropped from your shoulders, relief washing over him in a way he didn’t entirely understand.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Hotch stepped back, giving you space even though every fiber of his being wanted to pull you closer. You climbed back into the bed, your movements slower this time, less certain. When you finally settled beside him, he wrapped an arm around you, his hand resting lightly on your back.

Neither of you spoke again, but the silence was heavy with understanding. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, and he didn’t know if either of you could keep pretending this wasn’t something more. But for now, it didn’t matter.

You were here, and that was enough.

The room was quiet again, save for the rhythmic hum of the hotel’s air conditioning and the faint sounds of life beyond the walls. You were back beside him, though the space between your bodies felt heavier than before, as if the rawness of what had just happened was an invisible barrier neither of you wanted to cross.

Hotch’s arm rested lightly on your back, his hand brushing the curve of your shoulder in slow, deliberate motions. He could feel the tension in your body, the way your breathing was steady but shallow, as though you were trying to keep your emotions at bay. He didn’t push; he never did. But tonight, the weight of everything unspoken was almost suffocating.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he said finally, his voice quieter, less firm than it had been when he asked you to stay.

You shifted slightly, turning your head to look at him, your expression unreadable in the dim light. “Do you want me to go?” you asked, and there it was—your defense, sharp and ready, a shield to deflect the vulnerability threatening to surface.

“No.” The word came out before he could stop it, his tone firmer this time, leaving no room for ambiguity.

Your eyes softened just slightly, but you quickly masked it, shifting to lie flat on your back, staring at the ceiling. “This feels… different,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not like the other times.”

Hotch turned to face you, propping himself up on one elbow. “It is different,” he said, his gaze steady on you. “But I think it’s always been different. We just don’t say it.”

You let out a breathy, humorless laugh, turning your head to meet his eyes. “We’re not exactly great at saying things, are we?”

His lips twitched into a faint smile, though there was little humor in it. “No, we’re not.” He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingertips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

You closed your eyes briefly, as if trying to absorb his words without letting them take hold. When you opened them again, there was something softer in your gaze, something that looked a lot like surrender. “You scare me sometimes,” you admitted quietly. “Not in the way you think. Just… the way you make me feel.”

Hotch’s chest tightened at your words, his hand moving to rest against your cheek. “You think I don’t feel the same?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “Because I do.”

The air between you shifted then, the tension softening into something quieter, more vulnerable. For a moment, neither of you moved, your gazes locked as though daring each other to break the silence. Then, slowly, you reached for him, your hand finding his and lacing your fingers together.

“I’ll stay,” you said softly, almost as if reassuring yourself as much as him. “But just for tonight.”

It was always more than just tonight. 

Hotch nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line as he leaned down to kiss your forehead—a gesture so tender it felt almost out of place between the two of you. “Just for tonight,” he echoed, though the way his hand tightened around yours betrayed the truth.

You shifted closer to him, your head resting against his shoulder, and for a while, you both lay there in silence, the unspoken words still hanging in the air but no longer suffocating. Whatever this was between you—messy, undefined, and terrifying—it was enough for now. It had to be.

Aaron Hotchner prided himself on control. In his work, in his demeanor, in the way he navigated the chaos of the BAU—it was a skill he had honed to perfection. And yet, when it came to you, control felt like a slippery thing, something he grasped at but never fully held.

The days following that night settled back into the rhythm you and Hotch always maintained—something hovering between routine and denial. At work, you were as efficient and professional as ever, the picture of a seamless partnership. You exchanged clipped updates about cases, worked in sync during briefings, and traded subtle glances across the room that said more than words ever could.

Outside of work, the lines blurred more than ever. You still joined Hotch and Jack for movie nights, helped Jack with his homework, and shared quiet dinners that felt far too domestic for two colleagues who claimed not to be anything more. You fell back into bed together on those nights when the tension boiled over (and many nights when you both were just too tired not to just be), and yet neither of you ever spoke about what it meant. That was the unspoken agreement: not to name it because naming it would make it real.

It worked. Until Beth.

She had been kind, warm, and direct in a way that took him by surprise. Meeting her at the park had been pleasant enough—a chance encounter during one of his runs training for the triathlon. She’d struck up a conversation easily, and before he realized what was happening, she was smiling at him in that way, the kind of way that left no question about her intentions.

“I-I could use some tips--if you’re not busy?” she’d asked, her tone light but confident.

For a moment, Hotch froze. His first thought, inexplicably, was of you���how you’d look at him if you knew, the slight quirk of your brow, the teasing edge in your voice. And yet, beneath that, there was something else. Something heavier.

“I—” He hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “I just don’t know my schedule. I’ll think about it.”

Later that night, as you sat on the couch in his apartment, flipping through a case file while Jack played nearby out of hearing, Hotch broke the silence.

“Someone asked me out today,” he said, his voice calm, almost too casual. 

You didn’t look up immediately, your focus still on the file, but he caught the way your hand stilled on the page. “Oh?” you said lightly, though the tightness in your tone betrayed you. “Anyone I know?”

He shook his head, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “A woman I met at the park. Beth.”

“Beth,” you repeated, setting the file down. You finally looked at him, your expression unreadable. “And what did you say?”

“I said I’d think about it.” He paused, studying your reaction closely. “It felt… strange.”

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a wry smile. “Strange how? Like you haven’t been asked out in a while? Or…?”

Hotch sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Like it would be wrong. Like I’d be… cheating.”

The word hung in the air between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then you laughed, though the sound was hollow. “Cheating? Aaron, we’re not—” You stopped yourself, the words catching in your throat.

“I know,” he said quickly, his jaw tightening. “But it still felt that way.”

You leaned back against the couch, your arms crossed over your chest. “How would you feel,” you asked after a long pause, “if someone asked me out?”

The question was quiet but sharp, cutting through the space between you. Hotch’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. His first instinct was to deflect, to downplay it, but the truth was already clawing its way to the surface. His eyes darkened at the thought. 

“I’d hate it,” he admitted finally, his voice low. “I’d hate it, and I’d probably want to throw a punch.”

Your eyes widened slightly, his uncharacteristic bluntness catching you off guard. But instead of teasing him, you leaned forward, your elbows resting on your knees as you mirrored his posture. “Really?” you asked, your voice soft but steady.

“Really,” he replied, and then, after a pause, he sighed and ran a hand over his face. “There was a time… that officer in Seattle, the one who wouldn’t stop hitting on you.”

You blinked, clearly startled by the shift in the conversation. “The one who called me ‘darlin’’ every five minutes?”

Hotch nodded, his jaw clenching at the memory. “I had all I could do not to step in. Every time he touched your arm or found some excuse to be near you, I—” He stopped, shaking his head as if trying to will away the irritation that still simmered beneath the surface. “It wasn’t professional.”

A slow smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you leaned back against the couch, crossing your arms. “You were jeal-ous.”

“I wasn’t—” he started to protest, but the sharp look you gave him cut him off.

“You were totally jealous,” you said, your smile widening. “You hated that someone else even thought about getting near me.”

Hotch shifted in his seat, his expression stern but not quite able to hide the faint flush of his cheeks. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” You tilted your head, your gaze playful but laced with something warmer, deeper. “You know, it’s kind of hot.”

“Stop,” he muttered, his voice tinged with exasperation, though the way he avoided your eyes betrayed him.

You laughed softly, the sound lightening the tension between you. “Fine. But admit it—you wouldn’t like it if someone else was interested in me.”

“No,” he said simply, his voice quiet but firm. “I wouldn’t. Because…” He sighed, fidgeting, running a hand through his hair. “Because it would mean someone else has something I want but won’t let myself have.”

The confession hung between you, raw and unfiltered. You looked at him for a long moment, your expression softening, though there was still a hint of sadness in your eyes. “Aaron…”

“I know we don’t talk about this,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not harsh. “But you asked, and that’s the truth.”

You leaned back again, your arms wrapping around yourself as if for protection. “I don’t think I’d like it much either,” you admitted quietly, scrunching your nose at the thought. “If someone else had what I already think of as mine.”

Hotch’s breath caught at your words, and for a moment, the weight of what you’d both said seemed too much to bear. But then you looked at him, and something in your expression shifted—a quiet resolve that mirrored his own.

“We’re really bad at this, huh?” you said, a faint, self-deprecating smile tugging at your lips.

“Terrible,” he agreed, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly despite himself.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy, yes, but it was also full of understanding. Neither of you had the answers, and maybe you never would. But for now, the truth was out there, raw and unspoken, just like everything else between you. And somehow, that was enough. For now.

Life fell back into its strange, unspoken rhythm. You and Hotch continued your routines, the moments that felt too much like a relationship carefully tucked away, ignored but ever-present.

Hotch had made his decision about Beth without much thought, declining her offer politely but firmly. He told himself it was because his life didn’t allow for complications like dating, but he knew the real reason. 

He didn’t bring it up again, and neither did you. But sometimes, when you caught his eye across the bullpen or during a quiet moment at his apartment, there was a weight in your gaze that mirrored his own. It was easier not to talk about it.

The unsub had been cornered, a desperate man with nothing left to lose. Hotch could see the wild look in his eyes, the way his hand twitched around the gun. You stood a few feet away, crouched behind a car door, your gun trained on the suspect.

“Put it down,” Hotch commanded, his voice steady, calm, despite the adrenaline coursing through him.

The unsub didn’t move, his eyes flickering between you and Hotch like a cornered animal. Then, in an instant, he shifted his aim—toward you.

It happened so fast that Hotch didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. He moved before the shot rang out, his body blocking the line of fire as he tackled you to the ground. Pain flared in his shoulder, sharp and searing, but he didn’t let it stop him. He rolled to shield you as Morgan and the local PD took the unsub down, disarming him within seconds.

“Aaron!” Your voice was sharp, filled with anger and panic as you shoved him off you, your hands immediately moving to his shoulder. “Are you—damn it, you’re bleeding!”

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly, though the pain in his voice betrayed him.

“No, you’re not fine!” You glared at him, your hands pressing against the wound to stem the bleeding as the medics approached. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I wasn’t going to let you get shot,” he snapped, his tone sharper than he intended. Your jaw tightened, but you didn’t argue as the medics came to his side. 

Hotch sat in the back of the ambulance, his jacket discarded and his shirt pulled down over his good shoulder to expose the wound. The paramedic worked efficiently, stitching up the graze with practiced precision. He barely winced, his focus not on the pain but on you.

You were pacing a few feet away, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you muttered to yourself. He could tell by the sharpness of your movements and the tension in your jaw that you were furious. He also knew it wasn’t just anger; it was fear, worry, and something else neither of you would admit.

“Does she know you’re okay?” Rossi’s voice broke through his thoughts. Hotch turned to see Rossi and Morgan standing at the back of the ambulance, their expressions a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“She knows,” Hotch replied curtly, his tone dismissive.

“She doesn’t look like she knows,” Morgan said, nodding toward you. “She looks like she’s about to tear you a new one.”

Hotch sighed, his hand clenching briefly at his side. “She’ll get over it. She’ll be fine.”

“Will she?” Rossi asked, his tone pointed. “Because from where I’m standing, this whole act the two of you have going is starting to wear thin.”

“What act?” Hotch asked, though he already knew the answer.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “The one where you two pretend you don’t have feelings for each other. It’s getting old, Hotch. And frankly, it’s not doing anyone any good.”

Rossi crossed his arms, his gaze steady on Hotch. “You put yourself in the line of fire for her, Aaron. We all would have done it, but you didn’t think twice. That’s not just leadership. That’s something else.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering briefly to you before he looked back at them. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course, it’s not,” Rossi said, his voice gentler now. “But ignoring it doesn’t make it go away. You’re not protecting her by pretending it doesn’t exist. You’re just making it harder—for both of you.”

Hotch didn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the floor of the ambulance. The paramedic finished the stitches and stepped back, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the weight of Rossi and Morgan’s words.

When he finally looked up again, you were still pacing, your anger radiating off you in waves. And for the first time, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, Rossi was right.

The atmosphere back at the BAU was tense, the usual hum of activity muted by the weight of the recent case. Hotch moved through the bullpen with his usual efficiency, though the stiffness in his shoulder and the dull ache radiating from the stitches served as a constant reminder of how the day had started.

You were another reminder.

Since the moment he got out of that ambulance and was cleared to finish the case, you’d been snapping at him—sharp comments about his paperwork, curt responses to his questions, even a pointed remark about his “reckless heroics” during the case. It was all thinly veiled anger, but it wasn’t lost on anyone. Rossi shot him a knowing glance as he passed; Morgan smirked but wisely stayed out of it, and even JJ looked like she was holding back a comment. He’s pretty sure he even heard a scoffing laugh out of Emily at one of your brattier comments. 

“Hotch,” you said sharply, interrupting his conversation with Reid about a case update. “If you want those reports done before midnight, you might want to clarify what you actually need. Or is guessing part of the job now?”

Reid froze mid-sentence, his wide eyes darting between you and Hotch. The tension in the room was palpable, and Hotch’s patience, already worn thin by the soreness in his shoulder and the mental fatigue of the case, snapped.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone firm but controlled. “My office. Now.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could get a word out, he reached for your elbow and guided you firmly toward his office. The rest of the team watched with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement as you allowed yourself to be led, though the fury in your eyes was unmistakable.

Once inside his office, Hotch closed the door behind you, the sound louder than it needed to be. He released your arm, his hand lingering for only a second before he stepped back, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest. “You just dragged me in here like I’m fucking child.”

“You’ve been snapping at me all day,” he shot back, his voice low but sharp. “What do you expect me to do? Let you keep undermining me in front of the team?”

“Oh, so now I’m undermining you?” you said, your voice rising. “God forbid anyone have a reaction to you throwing yourself in front of a bullet.”

“I did what I had to do,” he said, his tone clipped. “It’s my job to protect the team.”

“You’re not invincible, Aaron!” you snapped, your voice breaking slightly on his name. “You can’t just—do that, and then act like everything’s fine. Like we’re all fine.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a slow breath as he tried to keep his frustration in check. He was tired. Tired from the case. Tired from the injury. Tired of the running.

“I wasn’t going to stand there and let you get hurt,” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less firm.

“And what about you getting hurt?” you fired back. “Do you think any of us would be okay with that? Do you think I would?”

Hotch froze, the intensity in your voice cutting through his fatigue and frustration. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. The raw emotion in your eyes, the way your shoulders shook slightly as you tried to keep yourself composed—it was almost too much.

“This isn’t about the case, is it?” he asked, his voice softer now, though there was an edge of steel to it. “You’re not just angry about what happened.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out. Instead, you turned away, your arms tightening around yourself as if to create some kind of barrier.

Hotch took a step closer, his tone steady but tinged with something softer, something almost pleading. “Talk to me.”

You turned back to him, your eyes blazing with anger, but beneath it, he could see something else—fear, worry, hurt. “Why should I? We never talk about anything. Not really.”

The words hit him like a blow, the truth in them undeniable. And for the first time, he didn’t have an answer.

Hotch stood still, every muscle in his body taut as he let your words settle in the air. The frustration and fire in your voice cut through him, but it was the vulnerability underneath that made him pause. He had always prided himself on reading people, on staying composed no matter the situation, but you had a way of stripping him bare, of making him feel exposed in ways he wasn’t prepared to handle.

“You think I don’t feel it too?” you demanded, stepping closer, your voice trembling with restrained emotion. “Every time you step in front of danger, every time you put yourself in harm’s way for me—it eats at me. And then you have the nerve to act like it’s just another day at the office, like it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t act like it doesn’t mean anything,” he said, his voice sharp, cutting through your words. “But we can’t afford for it to mean what you think it does.”

“And why is that?” you snapped, crossing your arms tighter over your chest. “Because it might make you feel something real? Because it might mean admitting that this—whatever this is—actually matters?”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, the words catching in his throat. He wanted to argue, to say that you didn’t understand, but the truth was, you understood better than anyone. “Because if something happens to you,” he said finally, his voice low but cracking at the edges, “it would destroy me.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t back down. “And you think it’s any different for me? You think watching you throw yourself in front of a bullet didn’t tear me apart? God, Aaron, don’t you get it? You don’t get to make that choice for me.”

He turned away, running a hand through his hair, his composure fraying with every word you spoke. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?” you demanded. “From being hurt? From feeling? Because if that’s your plan, it’s not working. I’m already hurt. I’ve been hurt for years because we refuse to deal with this.”

“You think it’s that simple?” he asked, spinning back to face you, his voice rising. “That we can just talk about it and everything will magically be fine?”

“No,” you shot back, your voice rising to match his. “But pretending it’s not there isn’t fine either. Ignoring it doesn’t make it go away—it just makes it worse.”

The room was suffocating now, the air thick with all the words neither of you had said for years. Hotch’s mind raced, every argument, every excuse colliding with the raw truth you had thrown at him.

“This job…” he started, but his voice faltered. He took a steadying breath and tried again. “This job demands everything. It doesn’t leave room for mistakes, for weakness.”

“And you think this is weakness?” you asked, your voice trembling now, the anger giving way to something quieter but no less intense. “Do you really think what we feel—what we’ve built—is a liability?”

Hotch’s shoulders slumped slightly, the fight draining out of him as the weight of your words pressed down on him. He opened his mouth to respond but found himself struggling to find the right words.

“I don’t know,” he admitted finally, his voice raw. “I don’t know how to do this, how to balance it. I don’t know how to protect you and still let myself have you.”

You stared at him, the raw honesty in his voice cutting through your defenses. But it wasn’t enough—not yet.

“You can’t have it both ways, Aaron,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “You can’t keep me close enough to feel everything and then pretend it doesn’t exist when it gets too hard.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his admission. “I know I can’t. But I don’t know how to do this without risking everything.”

“Neither do I,” you said, taking a step closer, your voice trembling. “But the risk of losing this, of losing us—aren’t we worth figuring it out?”

Hotch closed his eyes, the tension in his shoulders finally breaking as your words sank in. He couldn’t argue with you, not when everything you said mirrored the storm that had been raging inside him for years. He opened his eyes and looked at you, really looked at you, and for the first time, he let himself feel the full weight of what you meant to him.

The silence between you stretched, heavy and electric, the air in the room thick with everything you’d both left unsaid for far too long. Hotch’s gaze flickered to yours, searching for something he couldn’t name but desperately needed. His own words had fallen short, his admission incomplete, and he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him.

But then you spoke, and it hit him like a tidal wave.

“I can’t keep doing this, Aaron,” you said, your voice trembling but strong, each word deliberate and cutting through the fog of tension. “I can’t keep being someone you make love to, someone you fuck when it gets to be too much. Someone you play house with when we’re with Jack. You can’t look me in the eyes and expect me to pretend I’m not already part of your family.”

He flinched, the raw honesty in your voice slicing through the walls he’d spent years building. “You are part of my family,” he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

“Then why do we keep acting like I’m not?” you fired back, your tone sharper now, anger laced with pain. “Why do you let me stay, let me take care of Jack, let me sleep in your bed—let me love you—but we act like it doesn’t mean anything?”

Hotch’s breath caught, his chest tightening as your words hit their mark. He opened his mouth to respond, but you weren’t done.

“You jumped in front of a bullet for me, Aaron,” you continued, your voice breaking slightly. “And you expect me to believe you’d do that for anyone else? That I’m just another member of the team? I’m not stupid. I know what this is—what we are. But I can’t keep pretending it’s nothing.”

He stepped closer, his hand twitching at his side, but he didn’t reach for you. “You think I don’t know that?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “You think I don’t feel it every time I look at you, every time I hear Jack ask about you when you’re not there? You think I don’t know how much it means to me that you’re part of my life?”

“Then we have to stop running from it!” you exclaimed, your voice cracking as your arms fell to your sides. “Stop pretending it’s safer to ignore it, because it’s not. It’s killing me, Aaron. I’m so in love with you, it hurts. And it’s killing me to keep living like this, to keep pretending we don’t already know the truth.”

The words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered, leaving him breathless. He felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him, like the armor he’d spent years perfecting had finally crumbled to dust. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to make sense of the storm inside him.

You shook your head, stepping back slightly, though your eyes never left his. “I need you to decide,” you said softly, but the steel in your voice was unmistakable. “Because I can’t keep doing this—loving you like this—if you’re not willing to let yourself love me back.”

Hotch’s throat felt tight, the weight of your ultimatum pressing down on him like a physical force. But as he looked at you, at the pain and determination in your eyes, something inside him shifted. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re right,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with conviction. “I’ve been running. I’ve been terrified. But I can’t lose you—not like this. Not ever.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes searching his, and for a moment, the room was silent, the tension between you finally giving way to something else. Something undeniable.

“I love you,” he said, the words raw and unpolished, but no less true. “I don’t know how to do this, but I want to try. With you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you didn’t look away. “Then stop pretending I’m anything less than yours.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice steady now. “Not anymore.”

The air between you shifted, the weight of everything unsaid finally lifting as you stepped into him, your arms wrapping around him as his enveloped you. It wasn’t a resolution, not entirely, but it was a beginning. A chance to stop running, to stop pretending, and to finally face the truth you’d both been avoiding for far too long.

The embrace lingered, grounding them both in a moment of quiet resolution. Hotch could feel your heartbeat against his chest, the tension in your body slowly melting away as his arms tightened around you. For once, the silence between you wasn’t filled with unsaid words or guarded emotions. It was calm. Real.

But the calm couldn’t last forever.

As you stepped back slightly, your hands still resting on his chest, Hotch caught the faintest hint of a smirk on your lips. It was subtle, but he recognized it immediately—the way your mouth twitched just before you said something that would almost certainly drive him up a wall.

“You know we just gave the entire team front-row seats to our meltdown, right?” you said, tilting your head as you looked up at him. “They’re probably out there placing bets on how long it’ll take us to come out of this office.”

Hotch sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching as he fought the urge to smile. “I’d imagine Rossi’s leading the pool.”

“Of course he is,” you replied, stepping back fully now, though the warmth in your voice remained. “He’s been waiting for this for years. Probably thinks he’s some kind of love oracle.”

Hotch allowed himself a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll have to face them eventually,” he admitted, his tone resigned but not without a trace of humor. “It’s not like they’ll forget about it by morning.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the edge of his desk. “Oh, they won’t. They’ve been watching us like hawks for years. I wouldn’t be surprised if Morgan starts calling us ‘Mom and Dad’ the second we walk out of here.”

Hotch froze for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean, ‘Mom and Dad’?”

Your grin widened, and you shrugged nonchalantly. “You didn’t know? The team’s been referring to us as Mom and Dad behind our backs for ages.”

He blinked, his lips parting slightly as he tried to process your words. “They… what?”

“Oh, come on, Aaron,” you said, your tone teasing now. “You’ve seen how they act around us. Morgan and Reid bicker like siblings, and JJ’s always trying to keep the peace. They’ve practically assigned us roles in their little BAU family.”

Hotch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” you asked, your voice laced with amusement. “Because it makes a lot of sense when you think about it. I mean, you are kind of a dad to everyone, and I—” You stopped abruptly, the teasing edge in your voice faltering for just a moment before you continued. “Well, I guess I’m just always around.”

Hotch looked at you then, his gaze softening. “You’re not just always around,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “You’re part of this team. You’re part of my life. And, apparently, the team’s ‘mom,’ whether we like it or not.”

The warmth in his voice made you smile, and for a moment, the tension from earlier felt like a distant memory. “Well,” you said, pushing off the desk and straightening your posture, “if we’re going to face them, we might as well lean into it.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Lean into it?”

“Sure,” you replied, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Let them think they’ve been right all along. It’ll make their day.”

He sighed again, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Maybe,” you said, moving toward the door. “But it’s not every day we give them this much to gossip about. Might as well embrace it.”

As you reached for the door handle, you turned back to him, your expression softening slightly. “You ready?”

Hotch straightened, his shoulders squaring as he stepped forward. “Not even a little.”

Your laugh was soft but genuine, and as you opened the door, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Whatever was waiting for the two of you on the other side, you’d face it together. And that, at least, was something he could hold onto.

The weeks that followed were, on the surface, remarkably unchanged. You and Hotch still worked side by side at the BAU, the same unspoken rhythm of partnership guiding your every move. Your routines remained intact—late nights at his apartment, dinners with Jack, quiet moments stolen away from the chaos of your jobs. But now, there was something new woven into the fabric of it all. Something quiet and steady: the acknowledgement of what you were to each other.

It started small. He would brush his fingers against yours when no one was looking, or you’d linger in his office just a little longer than necessary, your smiles softer, your words laced with warmth. And the words “I love you” slipped into your conversations as naturally as if they’d always been there.

One night, after a particularly grueling case, you both returned to his apartment, the comforting routine of shedding your workday as familiar as ever. Jack was already in bed, the soft glow of the living room lamp casting a warm light as you both settled in.

Hotch disappeared into his home office for a moment, returning with a folder in his hand. He handed it to you without a word, his expression unreadable.

You took it, raising an eyebrow as you opened it. “What’s this?” you asked, flipping through the pages.

“Employee relationship disclosure paperwork,” he said simply, his tone neutral but his lips twitching with the faintest hint of amusement.

Your head snapped up, your eyes narrowing as a slow smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Employee relationship paperwork?” you echoed, setting the folder on the coffee table. “What exactly are we calling this, Aaron?”

Hotch paused, clearly caught off guard by your question. “What do you mean?” he asked carefully.

You leaned back, crossing your arms as you looked at him with mock seriousness. “I mean, if we’re filling out forms, that means we’re officially labeling this, right? So, what are we? Is this… a relationship?”

His brow furrowed slightly, as though the question confused him. “Of course it’s a relationship,” he said, his voice steady. “It has been for a long time.”

You tilted your head, your lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Oh, really? Because last I checked, we’ve been playing house without acknowledging anything for years. So what’s the label, Hotchner? Are we ‘dating’? Am I your ‘girlfriend’?” You said the words with a playful lilt, but there was a genuine curiosity beneath your teasing tone.

Hotch hesitated, his jaw tightening as he considered your question. “I don’t think ‘girlfriend’ really fits,” he said finally, his tone thoughtful. “It feels… juvenile.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you. “Juvenile? Aaron, you sound like you’re 100 years old. What would you prefer? ‘Lady friend’? ‘Companion’?”

He shot you a pointed look, though the warmth in his eyes undercut his irritation. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” you replied, still smiling. “If ‘girlfriend’ doesn’t fit, what does? You could’ve at least asked me to go steady or something.”

That earned you a quiet laugh, and Hotch shook his head as he sat beside you on the couch. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re old-fashioned,” you shot back, nudging his shoulder with yours. “But seriously, what is this? What are we calling it?”

Hotch turned to face you fully, his expression softening. “We don’t need a label,” he said after a moment. “But if you want one… yes, you’re my girlfriend. My partner. Whatever word you want to use.”

Your smile widened, your teasing demeanor giving way to something warmer. “Your girlfriend, huh? Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

He smirked, leaning back against the couch. “You make me say a lot of things I never thought I’d say.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “I like the sound of it,” you said softly. “But you know, if this is going to be official, you’re going to have to deal with the team making fun of us.”

“I’ve dealt with worse,” he replied, his voice steady but tinged with amusement.

Hotch felt the faintest tug of a smile on his lips as your fingers threaded through his. The warmth of your touch steadied him in a way few things ever could. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze resting on you with that quiet intensity he so often wore, but this time there was a softness beneath it.

“You’re going to have to deal with it too,” he added, his voice quieter now, almost teasing. “You think Morgan’s not going to have a field day the second he hears about this?”

You chuckled, leaning back against the couch and letting your head rest on his shoulder. “Morgan’s going to call me ‘Mom’ for the rest of my career,” you said with a grin. “And don’t even get me started on Rossi. He’s probably already planning the toast for our wedding.”

Hotch groaned softly, though there was no real frustration in the sound. “Rossi thinks he knows everything,” he muttered.

“Well,” you teased, “he was right about this.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze drifting down to your intertwined hands. He knew the rest of the team would have plenty to say, but for once, he didn’t feel the usual tension that accompanied such thoughts. Instead, there was a quiet acceptance, a sense of inevitability that, despite his usual resistance to change, felt strangely comforting.

Your voice broke through his thoughts. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually said it out loud.”

“Said what?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to look at you.

“That you’re my boyfriend,” you said, the word tumbling out casually, but the way your lips curled into a playful smile told him you were testing it, savoring the way it sounded.

Hotch blinked, his brows lifting slightly. “Your boyfriend,” he repeated, the word feeling foreign but oddly fitting on his tongue.

“Yes,” you said, your tone mockingly serious now. “You know, boyfriend. Partner. Significant other. Lover—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, though the faintest hint of color crept into his cheeks as he shook his head. “I get it.”

You grinned up at him, clearly pleased with his reaction. “I think it suits you.”

“I feel ridiculous,” he admitted, though there was no heat in his words.

“Ridiculously lucky,” you corrected with a smirk.

Hotch sighed, though his lips twitched upward in a reluctant smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” you shot back, your tone light but laced with something deeper, something unspoken that now didn’t need to be.

He leaned back against the couch, letting out a quiet hum of agreement. “Maybe I do.”

“See? You’re getting the hang of this already, boyfriend,” you said, your grin widening.

He shook his head, chuckling softly as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

“Good,” you replied, settling into his side. “That’s half the fun.”

Hotch’s lips twitched as he let your words settle, your playful tone doing little to mask the deeper warmth behind them. He tilted his head, watching the way you fit so effortlessly into his side, your teasing smile lighting up a part of him he rarely let anyone see.

“‘Boyfriend,’” he repeated softly, tasting the word again like it was foreign but not unwelcome. “I think I still prefer something more… permanent.”

You lifted your head slightly, your brow arching in curiosity. “Oh?” you asked, your tone laced with amusement. “What would that be? Partner? Spouse? Or—” You grinned, the mischief returning to your expression. “Are you saying you’re more interested in ‘husband’?”

Hotch didn’t flinch, though the faintest flicker of color touched his cheeks. He met your gaze, his expression steady, though his lips quirked in a faint smirk. “If we’re being honest,” he said, his voice calm and deliberate, “that does sound like it fits better.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, your mock surprise more playful than genuine. “Aaron Hotchner, did you just casually suggest skipping the whole dating phase and jumping right into wedded bliss?”

He shrugged, leaning back against the couch with an air of calm that was entirely deliberate. “Considering we’ve been acting like we’re married for years already, it doesn’t seem like that big of a leap.”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine as you swatted his chest lightly. “You are ridiculous. You’re not even my fiancé, and you’re already talking about being my husband.”

“Like I said,” he replied, his voice soft but steady, “I prefer more permanent labels.”

Your grin softened, your eyes searching his as the teasing edge in your tone gave way to something quieter, more reflective. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” you asked, the question almost tentative.

Hotch nodded slightly, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t take things lightly,” he said simply. “Not with you. I never have.”

For a moment, the air between you was heavy again, but not with tension. It was filled with the weight of everything you’d both been building for years, every unspoken truth and every quiet moment of connection that had brought you here.

You smiled, leaning into him again, your voice soft but teasing as you murmured, “Well, if that’s the case, boyfriend, you’re going to have to start calling me ‘your wife’ in front of the team.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “One step at a time,” he said, though the warmth in his tone left little doubt about where his mind had already wandered.

Life fell back into its natural rhythm after you and Hotch filed the paperwork. The team made their comments, as expected—Morgan’s teasing was relentless, and Rossi’s smug satisfaction was borderline insufferable. But beyond the ribbing, nothing really changed in the day-to-day. You and Hotch continued your routines, slipping seamlessly between work and home as if the acknowledgment of your relationship had always been there.

Except now, there was an ease to it. A clarity.

The shift became apparent not in how you treated each other, but in how the rest of the world seemed to see you. It started small—another parent at Jack’s school, someone Hotch didn’t recognize but who greeted you both warmly at pickup one afternoon.

“Oh, you must be Jack’s mom,” she said, smiling at you before turning to Hotch. “He’s such a sweet boy. It’s clear he gets it from you two.”

You both had opened his mouth to correct her out of habit, but then he stopped you. What was the point? It felt right. Natural. So he’d smiled politely and said, “Thank you.”

Later, as you walked back to the car with Jack skipping ahead, you nudged him lightly. “Jack’s mom, huh?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“You didn’t correct her either,” he countered, his lips twitching with amusement.

You shrugged, your smile soft. “Didn’t feel like I needed to.”

It was one of those rare sunny Saturday mornings when Hotch found himself not at the office but at the local community park with you and Jack. The three of you had fallen into an easy rhythm—Jack running ahead to the swings while you and Hotch strolled behind, coffee cups in hand.

As usual, you and Jack had dragged him into this outing, insisting he needed a break. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but watching Jack’s laughter echo through the park and seeing the soft smile on your face made him realize how much he needed mornings like this.

While Jack climbed the jungle gym, you leaned against the railing near the benches, brushing a stray hair from your face as the breeze picked up. Hotch stood beside you, close enough that your arm brushed his when you reached for your coffee.

A voice interrupted the moment. “Aaron Hotchner, is that you?”

Hotch turned to see a woman he vaguely recognized approaching, her face lighting up as she drew closer. It took him a moment to place her—one of Haley’s old acquaintances from a distant social circle.

“It is you,” she said warmly, stopping in front of you both. “Wow, it’s been years. How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” Hotch said politely, offering a small smile. “It’s good to see you, Claire.”

Her eyes flicked to you, curiosity plain on her face. “And this must be…?”

“My wife,” Hotch said without hesitation, the words slipping out so naturally that he didn’t even think to correct himself.

You blinked, your lips twitching with amusement as you extended a hand to her. “Hi,” you said, your tone friendly but neutral. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Claire’s smile widened as she shook your hand. “It’s so nice to meet you too. And Jack! Oh, he’s grown so much,” she added, waving at him as he climbed the monkey bars.

Hotch nodded, his gaze following Jack for a moment before settling back on Claire. They exchanged a few pleasantries—updates about mutual acquaintances and polite questions about work—before she finally excused herself, leaving you and Hotch alone again.

“You told a lie,” you said after a moment, your tone casual but laced with quiet amusement.

Hotch turned to you, his brow furrowing slightly. “About?”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a faint smirk. “About me being your wife.”

He paused, the realization settling over him, and then shrugged, his expression unbothered. “Didn’t feel like I needed to call you anything different.”

“Really?” you asked, your smile widening. “Is this what we’re calling it now?”

Hotch glanced at you, his dark eyes steady but soft. “It’s what it feels like,” he said simply. “It’s what we are.”

Your breath hitched slightly, and for a moment, you said nothing, your gaze searching his. Then you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Well, I guess I should get used to it, huh?”

“You’re not opposed, are you?” he asked, his voice low but tinged with amusement.

“Not in the slightest,” you replied, taking a sip of your coffee before looking up at him with a grin. “But if you keep calling me your wife in public, you’re going to have to follow through at some point.”

Hotch chuckled quietly, his lips twitching with a faint smile. “Noted.”

Jack’s shout from the swings broke the moment, and you both turned to watch him wave enthusiastically for your attention. Hotch gave a small wave back, his hand brushing against yours as he lowered it.

And just like that, the conversation shifted back to the simplicity of the morning, but the weight of what had been said lingered in the air. Neither of you felt the need to correct it. After all, it was the truth—whether there was paperwork to prove it or not.

The next instance came at work, during a meeting with another department. A young agent had introduced herself and, glancing between you and Hotch, asked, “So, you and your wife—do you find it hard balancing work and home life at the BAU?”

He didn’t miss the way your eyes flicked to him, your expression unreadable. But he also didn’t hesitate. “It’s a challenge,” he said smoothly, his tone professional but warm. “But we make it work.”

After the meeting, you leaned against the edge of his desk, your arms crossed as you smirked at him. “Wife, huh?”

“Again, would you prefer I said ‘girlfriend’?” he asked dryly, hating the juvenile label, though the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

“Not at all,” you said, tilting your head thoughtfully. “But you do realize you’ve been calling me that a lot lately.”

He shrugged, his gaze steady. “Feels accurate.”

Your smile softened, and you reached out to brush your fingers against his. “Feels accurate to me too.”

It wasn’t until one afternoon in the bullpen that the team finally confronted you both. Emily leaned against Morgan’s desk, her arms crossed as she watched you and Hotch exit his office together. She raised an eyebrow as the two of you exchanged a look and parted ways—Hotch heading toward the coffee station and you to speak with JJ.

“Alright,” Emily said, her tone laced with curiosity as she approached Hotch. “Are you and Y/N married? And don’t try to brush this off—I’ve heard you call her your wife at least three times this week.”

Hotch turned, his brow furrowing slightly. “No, we’re not married,” he said, his tone even.

Emily’s eyes narrowed, skeptical. “Then why do you call her your wife?”

He hesitated for only a moment before answering. “Because it feels more honest than calling her my girlfriend. That doesn’t seem to cover what we are.”

Emily blinked, clearly taken aback by the straightforwardness of his response. “Okay, fair point,” she said slowly. “But what’s stopping you from actually getting married?”

Hotch opened his mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. What was stopping them? He knew it wasn’t fear or hesitation—it hadn’t been for a long time. And the thought of marrying you didn’t fill him with apprehension; it filled him with the same sense of certainty he felt when he called you his wife without a second thought.

“I—” he started, but before he could finish, you appeared at his side, holding a file.

“What’s this about?” you asked, glancing between them.

Emily grinned, her eyes flicking between the two of you. “Just asking your husband here why you two aren’t actually married yet.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, before turning to Hotch. “Well?” you asked, your voice teasing but your expression curious.

Hotch met your gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to quiet around him. “That’s a good question,” he said, his voice steady. “What do you think?”

Your smile widened, your eyes softening as you leaned just slightly closer. “I don’t think either of us have a good reason not to,” you said, your tone light but meaningful.

Emily rolled her eyes but grinned. “Well, when it happens, let us know. Rossi’s already planning your wedding toast.”

As Emily walked away, you and Hotch exchanged a glance, your smiles matching. And for the first time, the idea of making it official didn’t feel like a question of if, but when.

The idea had been with him for weeks, lingering in the back of his mind as he watched you move through your life together. It wasn’t a sudden realization or a dramatic epiphany. It was quiet, steady, and inevitable, much like the way you’d become the most important person in his life. He didn’t need to overthink it because he already knew the answer. You were his partner in every way that mattered, and it was time to make that official.

But Hotch being Hotch, he planned every detail. Not something grand or ostentatious—that wasn’t either of you. Instead, he wanted it to be personal, grounded in the quiet, meaningful moments that had always defined your relationship.

It was a Friday evening, the end of a particularly grueling week at the BAU. You and Hotch had fallen into your routine, picking up Jack from soccer practice and grabbing takeout on the way home. The three of you sat around the dining table, laughing as Jack recounted a story about his coach’s dramatic attempt to demonstrate a bicycle kick. Hotch caught your eye during the meal, the warmth in your gaze settling something deep within him.

After Jack went to bed, you lingered in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over your legs. Hotch joined you, sitting close enough that his knee brushed against yours. The room was quiet now, the only sound the faint hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen.

“You look tired,” you said softly, your hand reaching out to rest on his knee.

He smiled faintly, his hand covering yours. “Long week.”

“You don’t have to tell me that twice,” you replied, your lips curving into a small grin. “But at least we survived it.”

“We always do,” he said, his voice steady, though there was a weight to his words that caught your attention.

You tilted your head, your brows furrowing slightly. “What’s on your mind, Aaron?”

He hesitated for a moment, the weight of the moment pressing on him. But then he reached into his pocket, his movements deliberate but calm, and pulled out a small box. Your eyes widened slightly, and you sat up straighter, your hand still resting on his knee.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he began, his voice low but steady. “About us. About what we’ve built together. It’s not just a routine or a habit. It’s a life. And it’s a life I want to share with you—not just in words or assumptions, but in every way that matters.”

You stared at him, your lips parted slightly, but you didn’t interrupt. He opened the box, revealing a simple, elegant ring. It wasn’t flashy, but it was perfect, understated in the way he knew you’d appreciate.

“I’ve called you my wife more times than I can count,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Because that’s what you are to me. It’s what you’ve been for a long time. And now, I want to make it real.”

His dark eyes met yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Aaron Hotchner let every wall fall away. “Will you marry me?”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward or tense. It was full of the gravity of the moment, the quiet weight of a decision that neither of you had to think twice about.

Your lips curved into a smile, your eyes soft as they brimmed with unshed tears. “Of course I will,” you said, your voice steady but full of emotion. “Yes, Aaron. Yes.”

Relief and joy washed over him, a rare, unguarded smile breaking across his face as he slipped the ring onto your finger. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he pulled you close, his own arms circling your waist.

It wasn’t flashy or elaborate. It was simple, quiet, and utterly perfect. Just like the life you’d built together.

Aaron Hotchner had never been a man who dreamed of grand gestures. His life had taught him the value of simplicity, of finding solace in the quiet moments that others often overlooked. And as he sat with you on the couch that night, your hand resting in his, the weight of the ring now on your finger, he realized that this was everything he’d ever wanted. No fanfare, no spectacle—just you, him, and the life you’d built together.

The days that followed felt much the same, yet somehow entirely different. There was a new ease between you, a sense of certainty that replaced the unspoken tension that had once lingered. At work, the teasing from the team was relentless but good-natured. 

But it was at home, in the moments away from the chaos of the BAU, that the shift was most palpable. You’d catch Hotch watching you with a quiet intensity as you helped Jack with his homework or laughed over a shared joke at dinner. And when you teased him about it, his response was always the same—a faint smile and a simple, heartfelt, “I’m just happy.”

One evening, as you sat curled up on the couch together, Jack asleep in his room, you glanced down at the ring on your finger and then back up at him. “So, husband,” you said, the word rolling off your tongue with a mix of playfulness and warmth, “how long do you think it’ll take before Rossi starts making bets on when the wedding will be?”

Hotch chuckled softly, his hand brushing against yours. “If he hasn’t already, I’d be surprised.”

You grinned, leaning into him, your head resting against his shoulder. “Do you ever think about how far we’ve come? How all of this just… fell into place?”

He turned slightly, his arm wrapping around you as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “It didn’t just fall into place,” he said quietly. “We built it—one step at a time. And I wouldn’t change a single moment of it.”

You looked up at him, your eyes soft but filled with that familiar spark of mischief. “Not even the part where the team found out and started calling us ‘Mom and Dad’?”

He smirked, his hand trailing absently along your arm. “Not even that.”

The two of you sat there in the quiet, the glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the room. It was a life neither of you had expected, but one you’d fought for in your own way. And as Hotch held you close, the future felt less like an unknown and more like a promise—a life you’d continue to build together, one quiet, meaningful moment at a time.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

[arthuringmymorgan]

rdr has been consuming a lot of my thoughts lately, and i need to write it down somewhere or i’m gonna go insane. i’ve been thinking a lot about arthur’s celibacy, specifically the layers and complexity to it beyond him just not wanting to have sex. gta 5 came out way before rdr2 and you’re able to take home prostitutes in it. rockstar is capable of adding this feature but just chose not to do it for rdr2. looking at it simply they probably just decided it wasn’t necessary for the game, but i love character analysis and i love arthur morgan so obviously i have to look at it at a deeper level.

to me there’s two major reasons as to why arthur refuses to have sex, the first being that he uses celibacy as a form of self punishment. arthur has very low self esteem, both from how he looks (when you interact with a hotel mirror for the first time he starts calling himself ugly and says “no wonder everyone leaves you”. this man hates himself and it makes me SO sad), and also from just how he is. throughout the game arthur makes it very clear that he does not see himself as a good man, and when you pay more attention to his character it’s clear that he is good at heart, his lifestyle just forces him not to be. he goes out of his way to help strangers and is never mean or rude to them (at most he makes some sarcastic jokes but that’s it). i believe that if arthur were given a choice he wouldn’t choose to live a life that revolves around hurting people, but he wasn’t given a choice. he was orphaned at a young age, dutch and hosea found him, and he was raised into an outlaw so he could keep a place in the gang and survive. he’s done really bad things and the point of this isn’t to act like he’s done nothing wrong, i just feel like it’s worth noting that he most likely wouldn’t do those things if life hadn’t worked out for him this way, and it wasn’t necessary for his survival.

so arthur sees himself as a bad man, to the point where if anyone so much as implies that he’s good he’ll deny the hell out of it. and because he doesn’t see himself as a good person, he believes he doesn’t deserve good things. this is mostly obvious in the way he talks about eliza and isaac, making a point to mention that because of his life he was never really there for them and couldn’t see them often. of course he blames himself for it, but it seems like part of him is telling himself that he deserved this. not that they deserved to get killed, but that he deserved to lose them, because they made him happy and why should a bad man have anything that makes him happy. so, arthur denies himself of any good thing, including sex, part of why he chooses to be celibate.

the other, most obvious reason, has to do with eliza and isaac. again, because of his life, he could never really be there for them. he could only show up a few times a year, rather than stick around and be a constant in isaac’s life. and one day, he shows up and they’re both dead. this would’ve be so painful, and of course arthur never wants to go through that again, so he just refuses sex in general. if he doesn’t have sex, then he can’t get anyone pregnant, he can’t have a kid, he can’t have one really good thing in his life that makes him really happy, and he can’t have it ripped away from him again. of course, the odds of what happened to eliza and isaac happening again, the exact same way, to somebody else is low, but it’s still a possibility so arthur just doesn’t risk it.

anyway i’m insane about this game and i have so much to say about it so i’m sorry that this was long i just needed to get it out somewhere 😭😭

[loeh]

Yandere Claude

Wherein you are his brothers fiancee but you we're so kind to him he wants you all to himself ( you'll be like the birth mother of Anastasia)

thank you for requesting! altho, he is a character who i find really complex, still it was fun writing for him! shouldn't have listened to too much skeeter davis lol. Ngl i think i made him too oc

Above and Beyond

Yandere Claude de Alger Obelia x Fem!Reader

Cruelty— perhaps the only thing Claude had ever known. His brother and his fiancée, you, were the only ones left in his life, the few rays of light in his otherwise dark existence.

You had been his first love, and though his feelings for you ran deep, he would never allow them to interfere with his brother’s happiness. But when Claude discovered the affair between his brother and Penelope, his own fiancee, rage consumed him.

Anger was too mild a word for what he felt—he was infuriated. Not at Penelope, but at his brother. How could he betray him and you like this, even after all that had happened? Even after you, the radiant flower of the empire, had remained loyal and devoted?

The realization that his brother had broken that trust for a fleeting affair shattered him. The pieces fell into place—your lifeless eyes, the absence of your once-vibrant spirit, and your subtle hints to Claude to seek a different lady as his fianceee. Everything seemed to make sense.

With newfound clarity, Claude rushed to your palace, only to find it eerily silent, as though no one had ever lived there. His steps quickened, and he made his way to your chambers. The sight that greeted him stole the breath from his chest. There you were, perched on the railing of your balcony. The moonlight kissed your face, casting a glow that made you appear even more ethereal than before. Your hair shimmered in the soft light, creating an almost otherworldly glow. He wanted to capture this moment, to immortalize it for future generations.

But what struck him most was your eyes—those lifeless eyes that made his heart ache. For a long time, he stood there, lost in the beauty and sadness of the scene before him. It was only after several minutes that he gathered the courage to speak the words that had been tormenting him. His voice was a whisper, barely audible against the stillness of the night.

"Why didn’t you tell me earlier?"

"What could you have done? Nothing. You can do nothing. We can do nothing because we are just two powerless pawns in this imperial power play," your voice was eerily calm, as if you'd been waiting for him to hear these words.

Claude’s eyes softened, and he asked quietly, "What if you didn’t have to stay powerless?"

A small sigh escaped your lips, and you took a deep breath. "That would be refreshing," you said, almost wistfully. "Something to hope for. But…" You paused, the weight of your words settling in. "But I’m too tired now, Claude. Too tired to keep living this life as a pawn—getting sold off to the imperial family, and discarded by the man who swore to protect me from all the evils of the world. I’m just… tired."

He could see the effort you were making to hold back tears, and all he could do was gather you into his arms, offering what little comfort he could. But your exhaustion soon took over, and you fainted, collapsing into him, perhaps finding solace in his embrace.

That was when he made his decision. Rebellion. He would fight for you. He would lead a revolt, take down everything that had trapped you both. In a single night, he ended his brother’s life.

The next day, when you learned of your husband’s death at Claude's hands, your heart raced in fear. You feared you were next. In a desperate bid, you reached for the hidden glass vial containing poison—something your mother had given you before you left for the Empire. "Do not let anyone taint your honor," her words echoed in your mind as you stared at the sloshing purple liquid. You could almost feel her presence, urging you to stay strong.

But just as you were about to drink it, Claude burst through the door. Without hesitation, he snatched the vial from your hand and hurled it to the floor. It shattered, the contents spilling onto the ground.

"You're thinking of killing yourself?" His voice was gentle, but his eyes were filled with concern.

"Why?" he asked softly.

"Because I’m finally free," you whispered, your voice heavy with conflict between feelings of sorrow and happiness. "I’ve lost everything. I’ve lost the meaning of my life."

Claude shook his head, his eyes pleading with you. "No."

You looked at him, desperation in your eyes. "Please, let me go. I have nothing left to live for."

"Then marry me," he said, his voice unwavering, though laced with tenderness. "Let me give your life the meaning you’ve lost. Please."

The sweetness of his words, the sincerity in his gaze, reminded you of the boy he once was—the one who had been shorter than you, the one who gave you flowers every day and played with your hair in fascination. The once adorable shy boy as a man was asking you to marry him. His words were tempting, too tempting to resist, and despite the hesitations lingering in your heart, you found yourself nodding, your voice barely a whisper.

"Okay."

You both got married, and over time, began to heal the wounds of your past. The scars weren’t easily erased, but with each passing day, the pieces of your broken selves slowly began to fall into place. It wasn’t a perfect marriage—no, far from it—but it was yours. A chance to begin again, to start fresh from the trauma that had once defined you.

Then came the news. You were pregnant. It felt surreal at first, this new life blossoming within you, a tangible promise of hope. And when your daughter was born, small and fragile, you could see in Claude’s eyes something you hadn’t seen before: pure, unadulterated joy.

He held her in his arms, his fingers trembling slightly as he whispered her name.

“Athanasia,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. The name hung in the air between you like a blessing.

In that moment, you felt a quiet contentment fill you, something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in years. Maybe, just maybe, everything could be okay now. You had Claude. You had Athanasia. And though the road ahead was unknown, you were no longer walking it alone.

A little bit something more~

Claude stood in the quiet of the nursery, watching as you rocked Athanasia to sleep in your arms. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows across your face, and for a brief moment, he let himself believe that this—this peaceful scene—was everything he had ever wanted.

He glanced at you, at the way you gently smoothed the baby’s hair, and something in his chest tightened. He had never thought it would come to this—a family.

He wasn’t perfect, and he knew that. He had failed so many times, but standing here, watching you with their daughter, he couldn’t help but feel that he had at least done one thing right. He had chosen this life. He had chosen you. And for the first time in years, he was proud of that choice.

In this moment, all the anger, all the betrayal, seemed like distant memories. There was no more war in his heart. No more need to fight. There was only this—this peaceful, fragile thing that was now his life.

And for the first time in years, Claude allowed himself to believe that he had finally found the one thing he had been searching for all along: peace.

[kaeyas-beloved]

turn the clock back

Character: Zhongli

— he should know by now that no one is exactly the same after death

CWs: ANGST, hurt/no comfort, gn!reader (no pronouns), reincarnation au, death (reader), mentions of war and corpses

don't care that this is late again (i do), school kicked my rump its just the norm now || val's no sympathy novemeber masterlist

"Tea?"

That was the first thing you ever said to him. Mundane, such was the way of humans, but Morax still remembers thinking it was an odd way to start a conversation regardless, especially when he’s the lord of the land and a stranger to you. Were you not fearful? You should’ve been. The world wasn't the kindest at the moment, yet he watched you don the calmest expression amidst the war-torn chaos around you.

Even as the sky was clouded grey, and all he could see was the fallen in his mind’s eye, Morax thought that perhaps one cup couldn’t hurt. He did love a good tea. And you were merely mortal, what harm could you do?

He recalls many other things that fateful day, every last detail committed to memory, never to be dulled or forgotten: the sweet smell of tea mixed with harsh smoke; the colour of the teapot placed in the center of the table; how uncomfortable the seat was when he first sat down, only to slowly find the right position to sit in; the freshness of the fruit you had laid out for yourself. It brought a sense of normalcy he'd been lacking for some time now.

Despite this pleasant encounter with you, and the one other chance passing as you foraged from berries one evening, he didn’t feel strongly when you died - a wrong place wrong time situation that caused you to get caught in the crossfire of this war between gods. He did not shed tears, seeing a corpse wasn’t anything new given the trying times, but he did feel a small pang in his chest. A life was still a life.

It took many years before the Archon thought about you again, though unwillingly. The mind does wonders in connecting memories and sights, sounds or tastes to one another in a heartbeat, a phenomenal thing that led his feet to walk through the streets of a village by the seaside. There, he found it, and you.

He heard you mutter his title as he approached, watching with cool, sharp eyes as you righted your form and subtly smoothed out your attire. "My Lord, what brings you to my stand today?" inadequate stand you wanted to say, but kept it to yourself. Surely, among the many other establishments that sold tea, there would be one of a finer quality than yours? One that was fit for his palate and status, at least.

It didn’t help that along with his aura of power, he was quite attractive too. The term ‘sculpted by the gods’ being incarnated right before your eyes - it was intimidating. It didn't help that his eyes seemed to pierce your very soul, foretelling that he was thinking long and hard about something, perhaps appraising your display.

But, just as you threatened to crumble from having a god - the god of your home - stand before you, his timbre voice inquires, "which blend would you recommend?"

- - -

From that day on, Morax made it part of his routine to stop in front of your stand. Sometimes he'd buy some tea, other times he'd simply chat with you, usually about tea, but as time moved on, other topics arose - the weather, Liyue's current peace, the economy, things about yourself, things about him… then finally, the question "would you join me for dinner?". That last one had caught you off guard, but you'd never forget how the light of the golden sunset painted his skin and reflected in his eyes. It seemed almost perfect, a storybook level of too good to be true. There had to be a catch, some fine print in this agreement.

Yet when you asked about it, as if you were in some sort of trouble, the male had merely chuckled, elusively replying that you intrigued him. So, with no reason to deny him, you accepted.

This kickstarted the beginning of a real relationship between you two. A lot more was learnt about one another during that first dinner, and your interactions in front of your stand didn't cease either. The God of Geo was no fool, he knew he was slowly falling in love with you, and in many ways that excited and terrified him. However, when he did finally work up the courage to confess (this was after many more dinners and assuring himself there was no way you didn't feel the same) he was hit with the reality that everything isn't so simple.

You spoke of an opportunity to travel to Inazuma, one that you couldn't pass up for many reasons. You'd be able to learn new, foreign techniques, expand your business while also getting the chance to sample the teas the nation had to offer. Who was Morax to hinder you? He may be your God, but he’s now your partner first and foremost, and he’d support you through it all. So, he saw you off with a kiss and embrace on the day of your departure, murmurs of sending one another letters over the course of your trip being exchanged between you both. You weren't due to be gone for very long anyway, two months would be nothing to you both.

If only he’d known you’d never make it to the nation of eternity.

Three nights after you left, Morax had gotten word that the boat you were stationed on hit turbulent weather, and all that was aboard perished. Not a single crewmember, cargo or, most importantly, you had made it. All was lost.

Looking back on it now, it could have been Celestia itself telling him to refrain from getting involved with you. A harsh reminder that Gods and humans shouldn't mingle and intertwine like you both had. From the start, tragedy was destined, you've died twice now younger than you should've. Perhaps Celestia was trying to rip the bandaid off before it hurt too much, at the point of no return.

And yet, this cycle of finding you, falling in love, spending time together and then losing you goes on for years. The image of you popping up in the universe every couple of centuries, somehow always different than the last. A medic, a farmer, a simple commoner, a hundred years later, four hundred years after, again and again, Zhongli meets you. Somewhere along the way though, “you” becomes this skewed idea, a blurred image like a drawing in the sand that’s been washed away by the tide. The things he adored about you weren’t always present in your next life, your personality would vary, and you didn't always talk the same either. You even rejected his advances in one lifetime.

It's like he was being teased - tormented - with the image of his love. A shell or vessel parading around using your face, a ghost meant to haunt him.

Finally, the year comes when he steps down as Archon, and it just so happens to be the same year he’s both blessed and cursed to cross paths with you again. He notes that you’re a travelling merchant, the dream to visit each nation at least once at the forefront of your mind.

And Zhongli still hasn't learned his lesson, sticking close to your side. He offered to show you around Liuye, tell you trade secrets about goods, how the locals work - just anything to keep you close.

When the pieces fell into place for him though, it had him pause and reevaluate everything. Everything he's thought and done and chased over the years, it all came to a crashing halt.

He sees you smiling with Childe one evening. You mentioned meeting someone from the nation of cryo for dinner, someone who was all too happy to talk about his homeland. You even joked that he'd be the new Zhongli when you get to Snehznaya, a sentence you didn't know caused the ex-archon's heart to ache just a little.

It was clear you were happy, laughing joyously at some joke the other man said. Oh, how beautiful the sound was, one he could listen to endlessly, but it's not him making you laugh this time.

He watches for some time, the tea on the table and storyteller long forgotten. Maybe this was the world telling him yet again to let you go, that you are no longer the one he fell in love with a millennia ago. A dream so hazed it might as well be a fabrication of his mind. If only he could go back to when you were his...

Perhaps he can still thank the stars for letting you befriend the eleventh harbinger; you may not be his in this life, but at least he could still watch over you from afar with the little time you had together.

So as you laugh yet again with the young ginger at the neighbouring teahouse, Zhongli forced himself to turn his gaze back to his own tea, a blend you had shown him so many moons ago, a quiet musing sighed under his breath for only him to hear, the final vow to separate you from him in the way he's only known you as, "out of every speak of gold this land holds, you will be the one that shines brightest in my eyes. In this life, and for those that have yet to come my dear, but it would be far too cruel to cage something that shines so brightly."

Tag list (both regular and event exclusive): @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @x-zho // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @ari-the-wr1ter // @xiaos-wife // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx

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[acknowledge-reigns]

Kiss It Better | Zilla Fatu x Black!Fem OC | 18+!

Description: Kiley is offered a high paying job to look after an injured Zilla Fatu for a month.

Chapter: 1/5

Face Claim: Halle Bailey

Warnings: None

This is the Zilla x Kiley sequel to Swipe Right and Rivals With Benefits. As always my stories are NOT about real people and does not reflect their character. While there is not smut in Chapter 1, there will be in others. This is very much an 18+ BDSM based romance with some comedy thrown in there. If kink content isn't for you, please scroll. You have been warned.

Word count: 2,696

My masterlist can be found here.

Kiley and her friends, Myra and Chris, had all just graduated from nursing school and were now working at the local free clinic.

They were eager to make a difference in the community and get experience before working full-time.

This being only their second week on the job, the trio who all had been best friends since freshman year of college were all still adapting to their roles.

The first few days had been a whirlwind of learning new skills and procedures, meeting new coworkers, and trying to navigate the busy and often chaotic environment of the clinic.

But now that they were more comfortable with their jobs, they were finally starting to enjoy themselves.

One afternoon, the trio was sitting in the break room taking a well-deserved break. Myra and Chris were chatting about their weekend plans while Kiley scrolled through her phone, checking her social media while they all snacked.

As Kiley scrolled through her phone, Myra and Chris continued their conversation, moving on to gossiping about Chris' boyfriend.

"So, how's it going with you and Lyle these days?" Myra asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Chris chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Oh, it's going great," he said with a sly smile. "We've been trying out some new... positions lately."

Myra let out a whoop of laughter, clearly amused by Chris's response.

"Oh, do tell," she urged, leaning forward eagerly.

Chris smirked, clearly enjoying the attention.

"Let's just say we've been getting pretty... creative," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I never knew my body was that flexible."

Myra snorted with laughter, shaking her head in amusement.

"You two are something else," she said, rolling her eyes playfully. "Always getting up to something kinky."

Chris chuckled and winked at Myra.

"You're just jealous that you're not getting any action," he teased.

Myra feigned offense, placing a hand over her heart dramatically.

"How dare you!" she exclaimed, trying to keep a straight face. "I'll have you know that I get plenty of action, thank you very much. It's Kiley that need to get laid, baby."

Kiley, who had been half-listening to the conversation, looked up from her phone and shot Myra a glare.

"Hey, don't drag me into this," she protested, trying to hide the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Myra chuckled, clearly enjoying herself.

"Oh, come on, Kiley," she said, grinning mischievously. "We all know you could use a little... excitement in your life."

Kiley rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you very much," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

But deep down, she knew Myra was right. It had been a while since she'd been on a date, let alone had any sort of intimate relationship. While she had been in school she didn't want the distraction.

Chris smirked, noticing the hint of wistfulness in Kiley's eyes.

"Sure you are," he said teasingly. "That's why you spend all your time with us losers instead of out there mingling with the hot doctors."

"The doctors aren't even hot" Kylie argued. None of them were.. Rugged enough for her. Kylie had always loved her a bad boy.

Myra and Chris exchanged a knowing glance, grinning at each other.

"Ah, so that's the problem," Myra said, a sly smile on her face. "You're just not into those boring, clean-cut doctors."

Kiley rolled her eyes again, but couldn't deny the truth in Myra's words. She had always been drawn to the bad boys, the ones with a rough edge and a mysterious past. The kind you read about in those dark romance stories.

Chris chuckled and patted her on the back. "Don't worry, Kiley," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sure there's a rogue doctor out there somewhere just waiting to sweep you off your feet and do scandalous things to you in the exam room."

As the break continued, Kiley's phone buzzed with a text message. She glanced down at the screen and saw that it was from her sister, Iris.

Iris:

Hey sis, can we talk when you get off work? It's important.

Kiley furrowed her brow, a hint of concern flickering across her face. She quickly typed out a response.

Kiley:

Sure thing. Everything okay?

Iris's response was quick and to the point.

Iris:

I'll explain when you get here. See you soon.

Kiley's mind raced with worry and curiosity as she put her phone away.

The rest of the day seemed to drag on, each minute feeling like an eternity. Kiley couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, and her mind kept drifting to the conversation she was about to have with her sister.

Finally, her shift came to an end, and she clocked out, feeling a mixture of exhaustion and anxiety.

As Kiley made her way out of the clinic, she got into her car and started the drive to her sister's place.

The drive was long and quiet, giving her ample time to let her mind wander and worry about what could possibly be going on.

As she pulled up to the grand estate, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the sight of the opulent mansion. Iris had married Roman Reigns about a year ago, and they lived here with her two daughters Imani and Amira, and on weekends Roman's five children.

Kiley took a deep breath as she parked her car and walked up to the front door. She hadn't seen Iris in a couple of weeks, just due to the chaotic schedules of a nurse and a lawyer, and the unexpected summons had her feeling uneasy.

She rang the doorbell, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for someone to answer.

After a few moments, the door swung open to reveal Iris standing there,

"Hey, sis," she greeted, a hint of concern in her eyes. "Come on in."

Kiley stepped inside, her eyes scanning the grand foyer. She followed Iris into the living room, where they took a seat on one of the plush sofas.

"So, what's going on?" Kiley asked, her voice tinged with apprehension. "You said it was important."

"We have a favor to ask you" Iris said

Kiley raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued.

"A favor?" she repeated, studying her sister's expression. "What kind of favor?"

Roman, who had been sitting quietly on the other side of the room, cleared his throat and spoke up.

"We have a favor to ask you, Lele," he said, using her nickname. Since he got with Iris, Roman had treated both her little sisters and her kids as his own. "My cousin Zilla injured his arm and needs someone to look after him for a while."

Kiley's eyes widened in surprise. She knew Zilla, had met him at Iris and Roman's wedding awhile back. He was brash and arrogant.

"I can't imagine that going well," Kiley muttered, rolling her eyes.

Roman chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Yeah, I figured you'd say that," he said. "But we really need someone to take care of him, who can make his stubborn ass rest instead of making the injury worse and driving his Mom crazy in the process. We'll pay you well, of course."

Roman scribbled down a figure on a piece of paper and handed it to Kiley. Her eyes widened as she saw the amount he was offering.

"Is this for real?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Iris nodded, a small smile on her face.

"We know it's a lot to ask, but we really need someone we can trust," she said. "And you're the only one we trust with this. You wanted more nursing experience right? here you go, Le."

Kiley hesitated, torn between the promise of money and the idea of dealing with Zilla's insufferable personality.

But as she looked at the number on the paper, she knew she couldn't refuse. It was a lot of money. Enough to pay off her car and her student loans.

"Alright," she said finally, trying to sound nonchalant. "I'll do it."

Roman and Iris both smiled, relief evident on their faces.

"Thank you, Kiley," Roman said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "We really appreciate it."

Iris nodded in agreement.

"And one more thing... You'll need to live with him for a month while he heals up." Iris added gingerly.

Kiley's eyes widened in shock. "Wait, what?!" she exclaimed, her heart sinking. "You want me to live with him? For a month?"

Iris winced at Kiley's reaction. "I know it sounds crazy," she said, trying to sound apologetic. "But it's the only way to make sure he doesn't try to do anything stupid while he's healing. We just need someone there to keep an eye on him, make sure he rests and doesn't overexert himself." Iris added.

Zilla had been told by the doctor that resting and not doing to much with that arm would be the difference maker on if he needed surgery or not.

Kiley let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through her hair.

"You're asking me to live with the most arrogant and annoying person I've ever met for a whole month?" she said, her voice tinged with disbelief. "This is going to be a nightmare."

Roman chuckled, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Hey, we wouldn't ask if we had any other options," he said, trying to reassure her. "But we trust you to handle him. You're the only one who can."

Kiley let out a deep breath, resigning herself to her fate.

"Fine," she said, her voice laced with defeat. "I'll do it. But you both owe me big time for this."

"Do i need to add another 0 to the offer?" Roman joked

Kiley rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Money ain't even gon' cut it. I'ma need another niece or nephew."

Roman laughed heartily at her response.

"Deal," he said, grinning. "We'll get right on that."

Iris smacked Roman playfully on the arm, a look of mock disapproval on her face.

"Don't encourage her," she scolded, trying to hide her own amusement.

Roman feigned innocence, holding his hands up in surrender.

"What?" he said, trying to look contrite. "I'm just making sure she's motivated."

Iris rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but smile at his antics.

"You're incorrigible," she said, shaking her head.

Roman winked at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"And you love it," he teased, pulling her closer to him.

Iris tried to maintain a stern expression, but her facade crumbled as she melted into his embrace.

"Shut up," she mumbled, burying her face in his chest.

"You guys are obnoxiously cute" Kiley huffed

Roman chuckled, wrapping his arms around Iris tighter.

"Jealous much?" he teased, looking over at Kiley with a smirk.

"Shut up, RoRo." Kiley teased.

Roman rolled his eyes at the nickname.

"You know I hate that," he grumbled, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"And you know i don't give a damn. My mission as a sister in law is not complete if i don't annoy the hell outta you and Jey." Kiley added. Jax, their middle sister and Jey had gone off on some impromptu vegas trip over the summer and eloped after a whirlwind romance while planning Roman and Iris' wedding.

Roman let out a mock sigh, shaking his head.

"You're a menace, you know that?" he said, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.

Iris chuckled, watching the playful banter between her husband and her sister.

"You two are like a couple of kids," she said, shaking her head fondly.

Kiley bids goodbye to Roman and Iris before heading back to her apartment to pack her things for the month she'll be staying with Zilla.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴

As she enters the living room of the apartment she shares with Myra to find her lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

Myra looks up as Kiley enters the room, raising an eyebrow.

"You're back early," she comments, noticing the bags in Kiley's hands. "What's with the packing?"

Kiley sighs, plopping down on the couch next to Myra.

"I'm moving out for a month," she explains, rubbing her temples. "Roman and Iris are paying me to take care of his cousin while he's recovering from an injury."

Myra's eyes widen in surprise.

"You're going to be babysitting for a month?" she asks incredulously. "Who is this cousin and what kind of injury is he recovering from?"

Kiley groans, leaning her head back against the couch.

"His name is Zilla," she says, already feeling a headache coming on. "And apparently he's a stubborn pain in the ass who can't take care of himself."

Myra chuckles, amused by Kiley's description.

"Sounds like a real charmer," she says sarcastically. "You're going to have so much fun with him."

Kiley rolls her eyes, shooting Myra a glare.

"Oh, ha ha," she says dryly. "I can already tell this is going to be the longest month of my life."

Myra pats Kiley on the shoulder sympathetically.

"At least you'll be getting paid," she offers, trying to look on the bright side, "Is he hot?"

Kiley pauses for a moment, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

"He's not bad looking," she admits, her tone nonchalant. "In fact, he's pretty damn attractive."

Myra raises an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across her face.

"Ooh, do tell," she says, leaning in closer. "What kind of attractive are we talking about here?"

Kiley rolls her eyes at Myra's enthusiasm.

"Tall, muscular, tatted up and he's got that bad boy vibe going on," she explains, a hint of reluctance in her voice. "But nothing is going to happen."

Myra pouts, feigning disappointment.

"Come on, where's the fun in that?" she whines. "You're stuck in close quarters with a hot guy for a month and you're not even going to try anything?"

Kiley gives Myra a pointed look.

"I'm not going to do anything because I'm a professional," she says firmly. "I'm there to take care of him, not flirt and play games."

"Wait til Chris hears that you're staring in your very own wrestling rom-com." Myra says referring to the third member of their little friend group. He'd moved in with Lyle a couple of months ago after the two met at the clinic. Lyle was a lab tech.

Kiley groans, her head falling back against the couch again.

"Oh, great," she mutters, knowing exactly how Chris will react to this news. "He's gonna want minute by minute updates in the group chat."

Myra grins mischievously, pulling out her phone.

"I'm telling him right now," she says, her fingers already typing out a message to Chris.

Kiley groans again, burying her face in her hands.

"You're a terrible friend," she jokes, bracing herself for the onslaught of teasing messages that will undoubtedly come her way.

Myra laughs, hitting send on her message.

"You love me and you know it," she says, tossing her phone aside and giving Kiley a cheeky grin.

Just as expected, Kiley's phone starts blowing up with notifications from the group chat. She pulls it out, rolling her eyes as she sees the onslaught of teasing messages from Chris.

Chris's messages are filled with emojis and exaggerated gasps, each one more dramatic than the last. He clearly finds the situation hilarious.

Kiley lets out a long-suffering sigh, reading through the messages with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

"Y'all hell," she mutters to herself chuckling and sending back a middle finger emoji in response.

Kiley:

🖕🏾

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴

Kiley stands outside Zilla's house, her bags in hand. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever chaos is about to unfold, before knocking on the door.

After a few moments, the door swings open, revealing Zilla standing there in all his shirtless glory, his arm bruised up and in a sling. He gives Kiley a once-over, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Well, well, well," he says, leaning against the doorframe. "Looks like my babysitter has arrived."

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Chris = Keiynan Lonsdale

Myra = Flo Milli

Lyle = Garrett Clayton

[irisbleufic]

The shade you’re throwing @ intersexist assholes in the tags on the IWTV story you finished today have me crying with laughter and also applauding, but I also feel mad on your behalf that something probably brought that on. Was someone a dick to you? It’s been a bad year for what y’all in the intersex community have had to put up with what with the Olympics, I can imagine :|

Hey, much appreciated, anon 💙 It has been a bad year for that, yeah. I’m not so much bent out of shape as annoyed about something that’s potentially intersexist in tone (see under the cut, where I try to pick it apart a bit) that I saw a while ago when I looked through the notes people have left on series-level Caldera bookmarks.

I sometimes forget that people leave annotations for themselves and others, and one in particular sort of made me blink and wonder who the fuck else might be reading and making themselves miserable by sticking around and reading content they could have so easily avoided and, you know, not bothered to bookmark? IDK, man, why not just bookmark the single story or stories you liked early on rather than bookmark the whole series to bitch about something the writer is examining at the intersection of gender identity and biological sex variations (especially when that’s something the writer reckoned with over time themself, and which plenty of other intersex people reckon with, too). Anyway, the weird AF note in question:

Like, I mean…okay? Thanks? Glad you liked a bunch of it, whatever that means, but gender identity and biological sex variations are running themes for half or more of stories in the series at this point, and not just for Armand (there are three characters for whom this is relevant, one of whom is canonically intersex in the novels, but whose portrayal has never quite sat well with me given the similarities to how intersex athletes are treated in the media—Petronia from Blackwood Farm; any other treatment of her/his/their monstrosity would’ve been brilliant, because, you know, fucking vampires, but it definitely crosses a line that plays into an awful stereotype). Getting back to Armand, though, the last sentence of this note is hilarious to me. In my stories, he doesn’t even change the pronouns he’s using even if, armed with new knowledge about himself, he’s also acknowledging a level of gender fluidity that he might not have been comfortable explicitly articulating and fully exploring before. I have a soft spot for writing about genderfluid/nonbinary characters who use he/him pronouns alongside the other ones I write about who tend to use they/them pronouns. There’s a relative lack of he/him gender-nonconforming characters in fiction, in my experience, so I have a few of those running around in fic across my fandoms. Given the fact that Armand’s pronouns haven’t changed here, this reader could pretty easily have just ignored everything else. I don’t even think Armand as I’m writing him is terribly offended by anyone who still calls him a man on days where he’s more masculine-presenting in the way he dresses, and there are still plenty of those. The bookmark comment feels sillier and sillier the more I dig into it through the lens of close reading my own text, and the discomfort feels a lot more like it’s down to the intersex theme than the gender identity theme even though the two are connected in the narrative.

If you find the existence of intersex people trying to work out their gender identity in fiction triggering, I regret to inform you that this is something that happens all the time in real life. And that you might hear about it, because we do talk about it. So, pro tip: heed the fic tags and consider not bitching about it where the author is going to see that and then just double down on being a thorn in your side, and anyone else’s who thinks like you, by writing even more about it.

[naughtyneganjdm]

Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion - Chapter 10

Summary: Tensions are high when Y/N comes home from her trip with Negan to the city when she finds that Joel is already inside of her home waiting for her with a special surprise.

Characters: Joel Miller, the reader (OC), Negan Smith, Elizabeth, Peter, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60501985/chapters/155947468

Warnings: Swearing, angst, dirty talk (maybe?), etc.

Notes: I put this chapter up late last night. Realized I made a mistake. Took it down. Forgot to put it back up. And yeah. My bad. So here it is. Sorry that my schedule is a bit off for this one. Thanks again to those that read this story.

After the day they spent in the city with Negan, coming home almost felt disappointing. Sure, that was a life that Y/N really didn’t think she fit in with but getting that escape from this small town helped more than she ever knew it could. For as long as she could remember, she felt stuck in this town. A place she dreamt of getting away from her whole life. Yet rarely left. And when she did? It was never for very long. But it was never in a way like Negan had given her and the children.

“Thanks for everything, Negan,” Elizabeth spoke up from the backseat, finally drawing Y/N from her thoughts. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw that Elizabeth was looking at the signed baseball that Dale had given them when they were at the baseball stadium. Letting out a small sigh, Y/N felt Negan squeezing at her hand from where their fingers were hooked in her lap. Sweeping her thumb over the back of Negan’s hand, Y/N realized how fast this all was really moving. They were completely comfortable in this situation. It wasn’t awkward at all. The children liked Negan and this felt right. Everything felt right between all of them. Being divorced and dating someone new always seemed like it would be a hard thing, but nothing with Negan was complicated. “This whole experience was really cool.”

“No problem kiddo,” Negan stole a quick glance back in the rearview mirror, giving a smirk and a simple shrug. “Hopefully I’ll get to take you and your brother during the season. So that way you can see it fully and meet the team.”

“No shit,” Peter blurt out causing Negan to snort.

“You’re gonna fit right in kid,” Negan assured Peter who nudged his sister with his arm. What was crazy is that Peter had a mouth like Negan. Peter may have looked like Joel, but his personality and his outward attitude was much more like that of Negan’s. “You and Liz can come to any home game you want. You’re always welcome to come.”

“Always?” Elizabeth repeated and Negan immediately nodded. By the tone of her voice, Elizabeth seemed both skeptical and excited at the same time. “So if I wanted to bring some friends?”

“I will always have tickets waiting for you and you’re welcome to come back any time you want as long as you talk to me beforehand,” Negan declared, bringing Y/N’s hand up to place a kiss over the back of her hand. Thinking about what he said, Negan tipped his head from side to side and let out a small laugh. “Within reason of course. Everyone will have to be…clothed.”

“Yeah, cus’ we know Lydia would take advantage of that shit,” Peter noted teasing Elizabeth about one of her closest friends. “She would hope that all of the players were changing when you went back into the clubhouse.”

“Enough,” Elizabeth silenced her brother causing him to laugh before going back to his phone that he had been playing a game on. Once they pulled onto the street, it had Elizabeth’s eyebrows furrowing and she let out a tense breath. “Dad is here?”

Turning to look toward her home, Y/N realized that her daughter was right noticing that Joel’s truck was parked in the driveway. Sighing loudly, Y/N thought about her last interaction with Joel. Which only made her imagine that this was going to be uncomfortable.

“I thought you were going to drop us off at dad’s later,” Peter commented when Negan pulled into the driveway. The original plan was for Negan to drop them off and he was supposed to go to his mother’s home to check in with her. But now that he saw that Joel was at her home, Negan didn’t know if she needed some kind of back up so he was waiting for some kind of direction with what she wanted him to do.

“I thought so too,” she frowned, squeezing her fingers around Negan’s. She could only imagine what she had waiting for her inside the house with Joel. They weren’t supposed to see each other again until tonight when she dropped the children back off with him. “Thank you for all of this. Yesterday was amazing. All around.”

“It’s no problem,” Negan winked, leaning across the car to faintly brush his lips against hers in a kiss. A loud, disgusted groan fell from the backseat that was followed by a real one after Elizabeth clearly hit her brother for being silly. Laughing against her lips, Negan tipped back and nodded toward the house. “I’ll let you go in and deal with things. I’ll go check in on my mom. If you need me, just let me know and I can be back here in no time.”

“Thank you,” Y/N slurred, giving Negan another kiss goodbye before gathering her things. “I’ll call you later.”

“I look forward to it,” Negan pushed his sunglasses further up his nose, his jaw flexing when she worked her way out of his car.

Giving her a big, cheesy smile had her snickering as she closed the door and waved to him. Wiggling his fingers, Negan waited for them to get out of the car before pulling back slightly to make sure they got to the door. Once they were inside, she looked back to wave telling him they were safe before he finally pulled away.

“Hey dad!” Peter immediately screamed making Y/N tense up with how loud he was purposely being. Moving through the first floor, Peter was desperately looking for his father, but didn’t see him. “Dad! Where are you? I have something to show you!”

“Hey. Inside voices please,” she requested with a small laugh, moving in beside Peter to brush her fingers through his messy hair. There was a sense of worry flooding her veins over the fact that Joel wasn’t anywhere to be found on the first floor. Elizabeth went to go upstairs, but Y/N reached for her hand to stop her. Right now? All she was going on was what she knew. And that was Joel was very upset the last time she saw him. If they couldn’t find Joel, this might have been bad. “Maybe I should go look upstairs first.”

“Why?” Elizabeth tipped her head to the side, confused why her mother would even suggest that. “Where do you think dad is?”

“I’m up here,” Joel called out, his voice sounding incredibly raspy with how loud he was yelling. A weight had been lifted from Y/N’s shoulders, thankful that Joel seemed to be okay. For some reason, the worst-case scenario had flooded Y/N’s head thinking that maybe Joel had done something to himself in their old home.

Pushing through his sister, Peter ran up the stairs skipping a few steps as he went to get to the second floor. Running down the hallway, Peter threw his hands up in the air and huffed, “Where is here?”

“Up here,” Joel scoffed from the top of the ladder that was out from the attic. Scrambling toward the pullout ladder, Peter grabbed a hold of it and laughed. “Common sense buddy.”

“Don’t ask me to have any of that,” Peter snickered, swiftly moving up the ladder toward the attic where Joel was. “What are you doing up here?”

“Well…” Joel stammered, helping Peter get up into the attic. Once his son saw what he was doing, Peter dropped his bookbag at his side and a surprised expression flooded his young features. What was once a dusty, half-finished attic full of junk was a clean, fully finished attic. There were just a few more things that Joel had to complete.

“Mom!” Peter yelled out moving back toward the opening in the floor to gaze down at his mother who stepped up to the ladder. Waving her on, Peter motioned her dramatically to climb up. Pointing behind him, Peter was trying to tell her it was big. “You need to see what dad did while we were gone. It’s nuts.”

“I was hoping to…” Joel huffed, stopping himself when Y/N started to move up the ladder. Clearing his throat, he stepped back and away from the opening to allow her to come up into the attic with them. Originally he wanted to finish the whole thing before she came up here to make it a surprise, but he obviously had run out of time. As she stepped up into the attic, Joel nervously stroked at the back of his neck hoping that she didn’t hate what he had done. He had cleaned everything out, finished the wooden floor and the walls. Did the shelves that he promised he would do. Put the walls up where it was needed and painted them. All he had to do was finish with the large window he was putting in near the nook so anyone that was sitting there would have plenty of light. Y/N was standing at the center of the attic looking around and Joel shrugged his shoulders. “I cleaned all of the junk out of here. The boxes that are over there are the things we would still want. Photos and what not. I brought all the books up here, just haven’t put them in the shelves. I found a desk like the one you wanted and I set it up…”

Pointing over toward the desk that he had gotten, he led her toward it and saw her eyeing it over. There was a photo that he had placed upon the empty desk. Grabbing it, she lifted it to see that it was a family photo from when the children were younger with the two of them. Joel had Elizabeth on his shoulders and he was making a goofy face while she was holding Peter when he was a baby in her arms.

“You can set up your workspace in here so you no longer have to work in the living room or in the dining room,” Joel rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Nervousness flooded his body. This was something he wanted to do as a surprise. Something that he knew would have made her happy in the past. And more than anything he wanted her to be happy with it. “I figured you could use that area of the attic for maybe a sitting area? Or somewhere to do your photography. So I just kind of left it open so you can decide what you want to do with it.”

“Wow,” she breathed out, her arms folding in front of her chest when she gazed over the work that Joel had done. Joel’s eyes were locked on her trying to read her emotions while she looked everything over. Considering they weren’t even gone that long, she couldn’t believe how much Joel had gotten done on his own. “This is really nice. You did a good job.”

���From what I remembered, this is exactly what you wanted it to look like. Right?” Joel looked for confirmation noticing the way that she bit down on her bottom lip and nodded. There was a sense of awe in her eyes and it took his breath away. What he had try to do was remember everything she told him she wanted up here in the past when they were married. “Good. That’s really good.”

“I’m gonna get Elizabeth. She needs to see this,” Peter swiftly moved down the ladder which brought Joel’s attention to it.

“You give me a few months and I’ll be able to build a staircase so we don’t have to worry about Peter tripping down the ladder and breaking…everything,” Joel explained with a half smirk, shoving his hands into his jean’s pockets.

“Joel,” she began, taking notice of how tired he looked which made her wonder how long he had been doing this. “You did this all on your own?”

“Most of it,” Joel explained throwing his hand up toward certain areas. “I needed Tommy’s help to carry some of it up here, but I had the thought during the middle of the night after…well, I just realized I always promised you that I would finish this and I never did. I know the key is supposed to be for emergencies only, but you weren’t home and I was going to try to finish it before you got here, I just…” Joel paused to look around, “didn’t.”

“You should hate me right now,” she suggested causing Joel to frown, his hands sliding to his hips to rest them there while adjusting the way he was standing. An ache grew at the center of her chest. After she had turned down Joel and let him know that she didn’t want to be with him, she couldn’t believe he would even do something this nice. “After everything that happened…”

“I don’t hate you. At all,” Joel reasoned with her letting out a huff at the thought. That was hard to believe with how broken she had left him at the school. “I understand it. I may not like it, but you made a decision and I have to honor it. It’s my fault that it turned out the way it did to begin with. This isn’t to make you feel guilty…or…whatever. I did it cus’ I should have done it a long time ago. I want to do the things I always said I would and…never did.”

“But you don’t have to,” she stressed noticing the way that he had a hard time looking at her with his chocolate brown eyes. Reaching out, her fingers curled around Joel’s wrist getting him to look up at her. Pulling it forward, she gave Joel’s hand a small squeeze. Stepping closer, she wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a hug. Resting her head against the center of his chest, she closed her eyes hearing the way his heartbeat grew louder. “Thank you.”

After a moment of awkwardness in his lack of response, Joel finally wrapped her up in his arms and rest his jaw over the top of her head, “You’re welcome. I want to do this.”

Silence followed. Maybe he should have said something more, he just enjoyed the hug that she was giving him after everything they had been through. Joel wasn’t even sure she would want to talk to him after everything. So this was nice.

“I probably smell really awful right now,” Joel confessed, knowing that he had been working hard. And he was sweating. “I don’t know if you want to keep hugging me like this.”

“You’re a contractor Joel. I was used to this smell for years,” she assured him with a tiny chuckle, hearing the steady sound of Joel’s heartbeat underneath where she had her head resting against his chest. “Thank you so much for doing this.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner,” Joel apologized in a whisper only to have their hug broken up by the sound of footsteps coming up the ladder. Looking to it, Joel saw Elizabeth’s eyes lighting up once she saw what it was Peter was freaking out about. “Hey Ellie.”

“Dad! This is so cool,” Elizabeth stammered, wiping her hands off on her pants when she got up into the attic. “Much nicer than it was the last time we were in here. A lot less dusty.”

“I’m glad you noticed,” Joel grumbled under his breath causing Elizabeth to chuckle at Joel’s straight forward attitude. “I was hoping to finish before you got home, but I’m a few hours out from that. I have to finish the window. Put the books into the shelves…”

“We can help you with that,” Elizabeth offered and it made Peter immediately scoff. That was like their daughter. Always wanting to help her father with any of the projects that he was doing.

“No thank you,” Peter frowned going to leave only to have Elizabeth grab him by the shirt to pull him back. Stumbling into place, Peter’s big brown eyes stared out at his parents and he offered up a big, crooked smile. “I’d love to help you guys! I can’t think of a better way to spend the rest of my day!”

“Good boy,” Y/N laughed moving across the attic to wrap her arm loosely around Peter who rolled his eyes at his sister’s antics. “It’s only polite for us to help your father after he put in all the work that he did.”

“And it’s for mom. It’d be nice to do something for her,” Elizabeth noted causing a warmth to flood Y/N’s body. It was nice to hear that Elizabeth thought she deserved good things.

So that’s what they did. They all helped Joel finish what he had left. What was strange about it was that it was the first time in many years that they had worked together as a family on a project bigger than cookies. Even long before they actually were divorced.

They worked together well. With Joel directing them what to do, it was pretty easy. Once everything was finished and cleaned up, it left only for her to bring things up to fill the space that Joel had done for her along with go through the boxes of important things that he left.

With Joel finishing something up over by the window with Peter, Y/N worked with Elizabeth to go through the old boxes which were some of the children’s old toys, clothes and of course pictures that she figured she would just leave as is right now.

A loud groan pulled her away from where she was seated with Elizabeth on the ground seeing that Peter had jumped onto Joel’s back with his arm wrapped around his father’s shoulders and his legs wrapped around Joel’s waist. This was something Joel and him had done a lot in the past. Fake wrestle with each other. She had always warned Joel that it would come back to kick him in the ass one day, but he still did it with Peter.

“Y’know, this was a whole lot easier when you were fifty pounds lighter,” Joel grunted using his weight to flip Peter over his head onto the cushion of the nook that was by the window. Loud laughter followed once Joel started tickling Peter to give him pay back for the sneak attack. “I’m still stronger than you.”

“I give,” Peter burst out in laughter trying to push his father’s hand away, but Joel wasn’t stopping. “This is cheating! Mom!”

Getting up from the ground, she moved over toward the nook with Elizabeth following her who joined in with Joel tickling her little brother who howled out in laughter while trying to push them both away, “I don’t remember there being any rules.”

“Mom!” Peter called out once more, tears running down his face from the laughter of having his father and his sister tickling him. “I’m too old for this! I’m too old for the tickle torture!”

“You’re never too old for that,” Joel alerted him with a smirk, finding amusement in the way his son’s face was beet red. A moment later Joel felt hands tickling at his ribs which had him using one of his hands to try to swat them away. “Hey!”

“You’re never too old for tickle torture,” Y/N replied back having Joel trying to swat her hands away when he started laughing. “It’s you he got the ticklish gene from.”

“Is not, stop,” Joel demanded trying to hold back a laugh now that she had his full attention. “I really am too old for it.”

“Dad’s ticklish?” Elizabeth started in with her mother giving Peter a moment to catch his breath now that they were focused on Joel. Soon Joel was wiggling like a fish underneath them trying to get them to stop. “Why did I never know this?”

“Because daddy isn’t ticklish,” Joel growled out managing to flip Y/N over onto her back on the cushion of the nook. Pinning her down, Joel’s fingers curled tightly around her wrists to pin her down onto the cushion. The room went silent with his lips hovering just over hers with both their laughter filling the air. Realizing the position that they were in, Joel’s laughter slowly lowered down until his nose slightly nudged hers.

“Mom? Dad?” Elizabeth stammered drawing the both of them to look over at Peter and Elizabeth who were now staring out at them with a surprised expression. It had Joel immediately letting go of Y/N to move away from her to sit at the edge of the nook area. “You okay?”

“Of course,” Y/N carefully pulled herself up into a seated positioning realizing that both Elizabeth and Peter were unsure of how to respond to what they had just seen between their parents. “How about I go make us something to eat for dinner? I’m sure everyone is hungry after everything.”

“I’m hungry,” Peter held his hand up eagerly eliciting a smile from Joel’s lips at how silly his son was. Hopping up from the sitting area in the nook, Peter headed for the ladder to crawl down first. There was an odd expression in Elizabeth’s eyes still when they awkwardly moved across the room.

“You coming,” Elizabeth noticed that Joel stopped and he held his hand up. “Dad?”

“I just want to make sure that I’ve got everything,” Joel waved for them to go ahead downstairs. Turning away from them, Y/N assumed that he needed his time so she gave it to him.

Going down the ladder first, Y/N helped Elizabeth down carefully. Changed into something more relaxed and then went downstairs. Joel was still in the attic by the time she got in the kitchen. Once she was in there, something at the center of the table caught her eyes. The flowers that Joel had tried giving her the other night that she had left were in a vase as the centerpiece of the table.

Seeing them took her breath away. Guilt ate away at her remembering that night. How she reacted, the things that Joel had said. What she had done to punish herself. Having Joel put them there confused her. Footsteps drew her to look back over her shoulder to see Joel walking into the kitchen, slowly coming to a halt when he noticed her eyeing over the flowers.

“I got them for you,” Joel reasoned with her, shoving his hands into his pockets. Shrugging, he tried to come up with some good kind of explanation why he brought them here, but at the end of the day? It just felt like the right thing to do. “They belong with you. I wasn’t going to throw them away or give them to anyone else because…they are yours.”

“Thank you,” all she could do was say that. Looking at them had her eyes burning. Emotions were eating away at her which was inappropriate. Especially after how she turned him down when he gave them to her. Forcing herself to look away, she moved for the refrigerator to see what she had. “You can go see what the children are up to. I’ll find something to make.”

“I’d like to help you,” Joel offered, showing his hands to her to show that they were clean. “I just grabbed some clothes that were still here that were mine lingering around. I’m clean. I won’t get anyone sick.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she lifted her head from where she was looking. Shrugging, Joel moved around the refrigerator to help her look for things.

“I could really go for a burger,” Joel declared with a huff reaching out for the ground beef that was there. Looking at the packaging, he grabbed a few more things and surprised her with the way he started to help her prepare the meal. Having her eye him over like that made him feel strange. “What?”

“I can’t remember the last time we made a meal together,” she responded, her eyes full of surprise with him helping her.

“I should have been helping you all along. Lord knows I eat enough of your food. I might as well help you make it sometimes,” Joel commented with a wink. Going back to get the burgers prepared, Joel could hear her moving around behind him getting some potatoes to prepare to make some French fries. “Remind me I have something in the truck that I want to add to the attic before I leave.”

“You have more?” she teased him, moving in beside him at the counter to start working on the fries.

“This one was planned in my head for a very long time. I think you’re going to like it,” Joel suggested giving her a quick glance. Clearing his throat, Joel went back to working. Softly speaking up, Joel knew that he was testing the hot water here with saying this. “I wish I would have spent more time with you when we were married. We should have been doing things like this all along.”

“We did at first,” she reminded him hearing Joel sighing when he dropped his head forward. “It was fun playing a game of what the hell can we make for a meal with these odds and ends of supplies that we have.”

“Lots of rice bowls, mashed potatoes, ramen and those cheap pasta packs,” Joel recalled with a shudder causing her to giggle. “I’ll never look at instant mashed potatoes the same way again. That was gross. Beans. Christ. I couldn’t believe how many ways you could come up with a way for them.”

“We did our best,” she noted with a laugh, moving over toward the spices that he had already gotten out to look through them. “But we managed.”

“We did,” Joel agreed with her, thinking back to when he was younger. “I have a confession to make.”

“Yeah?” she looked to him with an amused expression.

“All those things we mentioned I have a hard time eating, but there is one thing I still love after all of this time. I can’t get over Chef Boyardee,” Joel informed her hearing her giggling in response. “Some days, I won’t even bother to warm it up. I can eat it right out of that can. It’s like the boy inside of me still lives somehow when I eat it.”

“No wonder you like coming over here and stealing my food so much,” she playfully stammered nudging him in the ribs hearing his amused scoff. “There is nothing wrong with that. I remember how much you liked it when we were younger. I never got the whole eating it out of the can thing, but you like what you like.”

“Ellie likes it,” Joel reminded her about their daughter drawing her to laugh. “What?”

“She’s a mini version of you because she loves you so damn much,” she pointed out getting Joel to look up at her while she continued cutting up the potatoes. “Anything you did? She was doing growing up. If you drank from the milk carton? So did she. You were…you are her hero. So of course she likes eating it like that. You would always sit her on the couch with you, watch cartoons with her and eat from the can. She thought it was so cool. It was your special thing together.”

“Who knew eating cold ravioli from a can could be so special,” Joel sighed loudly remembering what it was like when they were younger. How he would be the first one up on the weekends even though he was exhausted because he wanted to spend every minute with his daughter. “I love her. So much.”

“I know you do,” she couldn’t deny that fact. Joel loved both children. He showed it. In a lot of ways. He always did. “And they love you just as much. You did good with them Joel. Even when you were busy, you showed up for them. I don’t regret you being their father one bit. My children grew up knowing love from both of their parents. Not many people get that. So in my mind? I was lucky you were their father.”

“That’s uh…that’s really nice,” Joel breathed out loudly, working to help her with the fries now. Hearing her say that made him surprisingly emotional, but he didn’t want to show her that with his actions. “Thank you.”

“It’s just the truth, Joel,” she stated with a long exhale knowing that she didn’t regret having him in her life, she just wished things would have gone differently.

“Can I ask you something?” Joel wondered, his jaw clenching when he turned to face her, bracing his weight on his right hand against the counter. Waiting, she didn’t seem to give him an answer because ultimately he would ask anyways. “Why me? Why was it me that you had a crush on growing up? Negan was your shadow. He would have done anything for you. He did do everything for you. Why was I the one that you were obsessed with?”

“I wasn’t obsessed with you,” she feigned being offended which got a very over the top serious expression from Joel. Finishing with cutting the potatoes and preparing them correctly, she took a minute to think things over. “I don’t know. You were really cute. With your big brown eyes, your dimples and the way you tried to act so grumpy. You were something new. Something I wasn’t used to. And then the older you got, the hotter you got. Maybe it was because you didn’t give me the time of day that had me so hooked on you. I knew you had zero interest. I didn’t get it.”

“I didn’t have zero interest,” Joel countered with a huff, folding his arms in front of his chest and leaning his hip now against the counter. “You just…scared me. You were very on. Showing up all the time. And you could kick the ass of a boy twice my size. I could too, but you were this girl two years younger than me holding your own. You were more like one of the boys than…”

“Someone to crush on,” she finished for Joel who thought it over, but didn’t respond. Instead the crease over his nose seemed to grow more. “What was it that made you finally like me?”

“What do you mean?” Joel stammered, moving around her to prepare to start cooking the food. “I told you the other night the day that I fell in love with you. Why would you think it was anything else?”

“It was just a quick switch,” she remembered how fast Joel went from being her friend to essentially throwing himself at her. “You didn’t want me to suddenly you were making out with me and dragging me home to sleep with you.”

“Do you regret that it was me that took your virginity and not Negan?” Joel wondered causing the color to drain from her face at the thought. “I know you guys did things, but I took your virginity and I wonder if you would have preferred Negan.”

“Sometimes,” she was honest with him eliciting his breathing to grow louder. There were a lot of nights where she thought about the what if with things. “I think Negan would have maybe been a little more…”

“Romantic?” Joel stammered having her nod her head a bit. Knowing that she thought Negan might have been a better first did have him insanely jealous. “So you didn’t like our first time together?”

“Sure I did. It just…” she paused looking Joel over noticing the way that he seemed uncomfortable with the idea. “It hurt. But it’s not because you were bad or awful at it. You weren’t. I just wasn’t ready and I was rushing things. Negan and I were used to each other back then. I think he would have known my body a little better.”

“Not to be that person…” Joel grumbled under his breath, his right hand pressing to his hip while he stared down at her with some frustration in his features. “Negan and I both have big dicks. Bigger than normal. So I reckon no matter who you had for your first it woulda hurt. I don’t think it’s fair to think that Negan wouldn’t have hurt because his dick is big too.”

An uncomfortable sound filled the air with Y/N’s face flooding with humiliation. Straightening his posture, Joel felt his heart hammering in his chest knowing that the sound came from behind him. Dropping her head down into her hand, Y/N tried to hide her embarrassment with Joel looking back over his shoulder to see Elizabeth standing at the entry way of the kitchen.

“Ellie…” Joel started, turning on his heel to try to apologize for what his daughter undoubtedly just heard.

“Adding that to the list of things I never wanted to hear in my life,” Elizabeth held her hands up in the air to silence Joel before he could say anything more. Disgust flooded her young features and Joel suddenly felt angry with himself for letting that out. “I’m going to file that away and pretend I never heard that.”

Pacing a bit, Elizabeth considered her next move and could barely look her father in the eyes after walking into their personal conversation, “I was going to come help with dinner, but I think we all could use a few minutes of space. So I’ll give you both ten minutes to finish this conversation while I go take a minute to die on the inside.”

“I am so sorry,” Joel’s thick southern drawl followed with Joel attempting to step forward, but Elizabeth immediately threw her hands up and shook her head. “You should have never heard that.”

“It’s okay. It was my fault for interrupting a conversation I never wanted to hear in the first place,” Elizabeth hushed her father noticing that Joel looked completely mortified that she heard that to begin with. “I’m going to go try to burn that information out of my brain though before I suffer an eternity of disgust from knowing what you just said.”

“I’m sorry Elizabeth,” Y/N apologized to their daughter knowing that it was partly her fault that Elizabeth heard what she did. Instead of responding, Elizabeth stood there for a moment. Gazed at her father, shook her head and then covered her eyes dramatically before walking away. “When the children are awake we need to be careful what we say.”

“I didn’t…” Joel paused looking down, shaking his head in disbelief that his luck was that bad for his daughter to hear. “Should I go say something? Should I…”

“I don’t think so. I think she’s uncomfortable right now and needs some space to let that pass,” Y/N suggested noticing the color that flooded into Joel’s face from the embarrassment finally starting to set in. “No daughter wants to hear about their father’s…”

“Fuck…” Joel scoffed brushing his fingers through his hair in a distressed manner. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

“It was a bit blunt for you,” she noted hearing Joel growl under his breath and fall back against the cabinets, bracing himself by his hand on the edge of the counter. Lowering her voice, she folded her arms in front of her chest and huffed. “How do you know about Negan’s…size?”

“We grew up together,” Joel shrugged his shoulders, but the glance she gave him was almost scrutinizing his answer. “You were best friends with him too.”

“I was screwing around with him,” she commented causing Joel to grunt.

“I was on the baseball team with him. We took showers together in the locker room. I know what a lot of the guys looked like naked,” Joel stammered, throwing his hands up in the air frustrated. “It’s not like Negan had a problem walking around naked all the time.”

Snapping his fingers, Joel drew up a memory of when they were younger and shook his head, “That one time all of us went skinny dipping in that lake. Remember? We were all naked around each other. A lot.”

In his rush to explain himself, she raised her hands and motioned him to lower his voice, “Right. I’m sorry. I forgot.”

“You just have a thing for guys with big…” Joel’s voice turned into almost a whisper, “dicks.”

“I don’t have a thing for…” she was overwhelmed by his comment, letting out a laugh and shaking her head. “I liked both of you before I ever saw you naked. Just because you’re both well endowed doesn’t mean that’s the reason I liked you. I blame your smiles. With your fucking dimples, I was a fool for both of you from the start.” 

“Which brings me to my next question. Why didn’t you get with Negan back then? He clearly thought the two of you were dating,” Joel continued on with their previous conversation in a quieter voice and it had her frowning. Disappointment flooded her features and she shrugged.

“Because I’m a bad person,” it seemed like she truly believed that answer and she wasn’t fucking around. “I had someone perfect, but I was so obsessed with you. As you put it. Once you gave me attention? I felt like I was the luckiest girl in the world. You finally saw me. And I hurt the person I loved the most in the world at that time. When I had no one, I had Negan. What I did was wrong. I hurt him. And it all makes sense with how he reacted. I deserved worse.”

“For loving someone else?” Joel countered with a frustrated scowl. “You can’t help who you love. Him being a dick and writing both of us off wasn’t the way to do things.”

“What would you rather him do? Beat the hell out of you and tell me how I broke his heart?” she pushed hearing Joel’s breathing growing louder.

“Yeah. I deserved it,” Joel stammered noticing the way that she was staring up at him with confusion in her eyes. “I was with you two every day for years. I knew how he felt about you. But the way I felt about you and liquid courage trumped that. I could have stayed away from you. But I didn’t. I let my emotions and feelings for you drive me. Negan saw how amazing you were from the beginning. I took longer,” Joel acknowledged seeming to get angry at the idea of Negan. “But you needed him. I needed him and he wrote the both of us off. Treated us like we were trash that you could just throw on the corner of the street. He was our best friend and he abandoned us.”

“And he probably felt abandoned by me,” she reasoned with Joel throwing her hands up in the air. “Once I had you, I couldn’t get enough of you. I didn’t want to be away from you. I could have gone to him, but I was greedy. I was selfish. I was focused on him completely ghosting me. Not once did I think about what I had done to him. I was an ignorant, stupid little girl.”

Anger flooded Joel’s features when he shook his head and went back to getting things going, “But I don’t regret it. I think about the what ifs sometimes. But it gave me our children. I wouldn’t want to change that for the world. I loved my life for a very long time. No matter how poor I was. Or how pathetic I may have been. I loved you. And you loved me. That was enough for me. And I wouldn’t give those moments up.”

The anger that Joel had over Negan was soon replaced with a softening expression followed by confusion. Slumping forward, Joel huffed loudly and cleared his throat, “You make me feel guilty.”

“For what?” she decided to ask while turning away from him while they started their dinner.

“For wanting more,” Joel stammered under his breath, biting down on his bottom lip. “I was so upset that everything I deserved got ripped away from me. Everything I worked so hard for…”

“And I understand why you felt that way,” she replied trying not to get emotional about things. “You were really too young to be making the decisions you were. I understand how what happened could upset anyone in your position.”

“You never once thought about wanting more?” Joel was desperate for some kind of response knowing that he felt like the worst person alive after what he did the other day and having her turn him down. “I know you had big dreams too.”

“Everyone has big dreams,” she suggested hating that they would always go back to this because it just made things more complicated between them. They had a good day and it was now being replaced with emotional conversations about their past. “Life just had a different plan for me. You, Elizabeth, Peter and Tommy were enough for me. I was okay with just being a mom, a wife and working the job that I did. It grew on me and I wouldn’t give up those days for anything.”

“I had to grow up fast,” Joel reasoned with Y/N trying to find the right thing to say, but he knew that it wasn’t coming. “I just had a break where I let my regrets eat away at me and I fucked up. But I think I should point out the depression that I went through. I should have gotten help for it, but instead I ignored it. And I think that’s why what happened…happened.”

Nodding her head, she didn’t know what to say, “We can’t change the past Joel. Like you said, what happened, happened. And in some fashion it was probably meant to happen.”

“You have to know that I love you,” Joel stressed, stepping forward to grab a gentle hold of her arm to get her to look at him. “Y’know that, right?”

“And I love you too,” she sighed, lifting her hand to press it in over his giving it a firm squeeze. “Divorce isn’t going to change that. You were a big part of my life. You’ll always be a big part of my life. I can’t hate you Joel.”

“Hey,” Elizabeth called out from the entrance of the kitchen looking between the two of them. Lowering her hand from Joel’s, Y/N swallowed down hard and went back to cooking. Joel looked sad when he made his way back to the corner of the kitchen to rest there. “Is it safe to come back in and help?”

“It’s safe,” Joel answered for them, his eyes lowered to the ground showing the disappointment he had in everything.

Together the three of them finished with dinner and they all ate together with the children talking about what Negan did for them in taking them to the stadium. Peter dominated the conversation with his excitement allowing Elizabeth to talk about it on occasion. By the expression in his eyes, Joel was jealous. Y/N knew Joel long enough to know that look that he was trying to hide from the children. They both liked Negan and they both thought what he did was incredibly cool.

After dinner, Joel grabbed something from the truck which led to the children starting a snowball fight with Joel. What was supposed to be a quick trip to his truck ended up being a while with him playing with Elizabeth and Peter. Even though their children were older, it was sweet that they could still find fun in spending time with their parents and doing silly things.

Once the sun started to set, she noticed that they were beginning to build a snowman together with the snow that had fallen. Going out to help them, she brought some things to help decorate the snowman and once they were done, they all took a step back to look him over.

“Could be better,” Peter suggested drawing Joel to huff and playfully nudge his son with his hip knocking him into the snow. “Hey big butt!”

“I’m sure the fall in the snow hurt you really bad,” Elizabeth teased her little brother only for him to throw another snowball at her. They both scrambled to grab more snowballs while fighting with each other leaving Y/N and Joel still standing before the snowman.

“I can’t remember the last time we made a snowman together as a family,” she commented, gazing over the snowman with amusement. “The children had to be really small.”

“I think we should make him a partner,” Joel suggested, brushing his gloved fingers through his hair. Sure, they were all cold and it was almost completely dark, but he meant it. “He’s going to be lonely and before he inevitably starts to melt, he should have someone to share those moments with.”

“I thought you were going the romantic route, but then you had to make it depressing,” she noted with a laugh, shrugging her shoulders, starting to work on a base for the next snowman with the snow that she could gather. Joel was helping her and it took a while for the two children to help them, but eventually they got the base together. With the last part for the head, Joel let out a grunt when he lifted it and once he rest it on top, his feet slid out from beneath him from the icy snow which led him to fall to the ground.

“Smooth,” Peter laughed, looking down at his father hearing the groan that came from Joel.

“Let’s go grab some girly stuff to make them match,” Elizabeth tugged her brother toward the house leaving Y/N staring down at Joel who was blinking up at the sky.

“That was smooth,” she sighed, reaching her hand out to help Joel get up to his feet. “You’re going to need some hot chocolate to warm up.”

“We all are,” Joel agreed with her, helping them finish the second snowman. Once they were done, Elizabeth did her best to get a selfie with all of them in it so they could cherish the snowmen that they made together.  Grabbing what he originally came out for, Joel followed them back into the house where they got some hot chocolate and sat together talking about old Christmases together. It was nice reminiscing about things, but ultimately it upset Joel because he knew they were memories that they would never truly have again.

Warming up, it seemed like time went by super fast and before they knew it, it was late into the night. Heading up to the attic, both Y/N and Elizabeth followed Joel to see what he was adding. String lights. Which brought forth a dreamy state to the whole area.

Together with Elizabeth, Joel got them up and the way he wanted. Moving over toward the nook, Y/N took a seat on it and sighed loudly. It looked nice. When they were living here together as a family, this was as close to what she pictured back then. A place to be able to work, relax and find inspiration in her work.

At the corner of the room Joel and Elizabeth were laughing about something with the sound of Peter’s footsteps coming up the ladder, “Whoa. This is actually really cool. Maybe we can come up here sometimes too?”

“Of course you can,” Y/N motioned her son forward, but he held his hand up which drew attention to the fact he brought the baseball that Dale had given them at the stadium.

Laying back against the cushion, Y/N stared up at the starry sky feeling her heart skip a beat. God, she would have loved this when they were younger. It was nice now, but then? It would have been the perfect escape to just relax.

“Dad, check this out. The coach of the team gave both Elizabeth and I these,” Peter threw the case with the ball inside of it in Joel’s face, clinging to it tightly. “Isn’t that super cool?! I’m sure this is worth a ton. Don’t you think?”

“I reckon it is,” Joel agreed with Peter, grabbing the case and eyeing over all the names that were on it. “That was really nice of the man to give you both one of these. You’re really special kids.”

“He’s special alright,” Elizabeth reached out to brush her fingers through Peter’s messy, dark hair drawing him to groan out and playfully push her aside.

Handing the ball back to Peter, Joel pushed his hands into his pockets and sighed loudly. Once his eyes were locked on Y/N, it took his breath away watching her lay like she was staring out dreamily at the night sky over her.

“I was thinking of doing the backyard next when it gets warmer. I remember how we always talked about what we wanted it to look like. I promised I would do that too, but I never…” Joel paused when Y/N turned her head to stare out at him and he shrugged his shoulders. “I never did that either.”

Hearing the sound of a cell phone ringing, Elizabeth gestured them to wait as she made her way down the ladder of the attic. Peter was now standing there alone, holding tightly to the ball, “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna put this in my room.”

“We’ll be here,” Joel threw his hands up in the air. And like that, both children were gone. Swallowing down, Joel noticed that Y/N moved over and pat down on the cushion next to her to have Joel join her. Unhurriedly moving across the attic, Joel laid down beside her and looked up at the stars. Huffing out, he motioned her to wait and got up to turn the lights off except for the string lights he just put up. Making his way back, he laid in beside her and curled his arm around the back of his head to get comfortable. “This is nice.”

“It is,” she agreed with him, enjoying the silence that they had together after all the stress that had been going on lately.

“I should have given this to you sooner. I’m sorry,” Joel once again apologized which she wished he would stop doing. “You were the one thing that gave my life magic other than the children and I should have been filling your life with special things like this all along.”

“Joel,” she turned her head, her eyelashes fluttering at him with the way she smirked. “Stop apologizing for things. It is what it is. Things happened.”

“I can’t just be okay with it. I did a lot of shitty things and you were right,” Joel countered, turning on his side to face her, his hand nervously stretching out to caress in over her side. “I never deserved you to begin with.”

“You were…you are a good man,” she assured him, placing her hand over the center of his chest rubbing a small circle over it. “I was very lucky to be with you when I was younger. You were better than you are giving yourself credit for.”

“Right. I was great. Then I dropped the ball and I’ve been trying to make up for it,” Joel pointed out realizing that it was a little too late. “I uh…I think we are good together Y/N. Not just us, but the four of us. We have fun. We’re a good family.”

“Joel,” her breathing grew louder with the roughness of Joel’s thumb dragging across her bottom lip. Sliding in closer to her had her eyes coming to a tight close and she swallowed down hard. “We’ve always been good parents.”

“It’s more than that,” Joel stated with a frown, pressing in closer to her to pepper faint kisses over her lips. It had her tremoring beneath his touch. “I think you know that deep down, the four of us are meant to be together. We’re good together.”

Each kiss grew in strength, with Joel curling his arm around her stronger to pull her in closer to him on the cushion they were laying on together. Brushing his tongue against hers, the sweetness from their hot chocolate still lingered and it made Joel smile against her flesh.

“You taste sweet,” he hummed against her flesh, crawling in over her. A nervous sound escaped her lips when he lowered himself down to rest himself between her thighs. Starting to kiss her again, Joel took his time with his fingers sweeping along her jawline. It felt like he was mesmerized by her features with him peppering loving kisses against her lips. “You are so beautiful.”

Burying his head against the side of her neck, Joel kissed at the sensitive parts of her body. His palm slid over her side and down over her back to pull her closer to him. Bucking his hips faintly against hers had her whimpering out, her fingers sinking into his dark hair. Tugging softly at it, her eyes slammed shut with him nipping at her chin.

“Stop,” she begged, placing her hand over the center of Joel’s chest to get him to put some distance between them. Everything felt like it was spinning. Heat ran down her spine and her heart was hammering in her chest. “Joel, I love you. I do. But I’m dating Negan. I care about Negan and I…I want to give this whole thing a shot with him.”

“I just…” Joel tried to speak, but she pulled herself into a seated position and buried her head into her hands. “You’re taking it that serious?”

“Yeah,” she was honest with him feeling guilty that she let it get as far as it did in the first place with what just happened between her and Joel. “He’s really good with me. And the kids. I feel happy when I’m around him.”

“It’s not going to last Y/N,” Joel was irritated with what he was hearing, his eyebrows furrowing when he pulled himself up into a seated position beside her. “He’s just here for the holiday and then he’s going to leave. The guy has one season of baseball left. Do you really think he wants to be tied down to someone like you?”

“Someone like me?” she repeated what Joel said, finding herself lost as to where he was going with that.

“You know how celebrities are. You’re a normal person with two children. You’re divorced,” Joel listed off things that he thought Negan wouldn’t want when it came to dating someone. “Spring training starts in February. And I’m sure he’d had to leave before that to be with the team. His life is going to be filled with fan events. Interviews. Photoshoots. The guy right now has been trending on social media forever. He’s famous. And him retiring has just made him more famous. People are going nuts about him. You have what? Three months with him and then he’s just going to leave.”

“Negan isn’t like that,” she suggested to Joel who gave her a glare.

“All rich people are like that,” Joel slurred, bracing his hands on the cushion realizing that he was upsetting her with what he was saying. “Right now, you’re a distraction while he’s home. Something familiar. But when things get busy with his life, you know people are going to hound him about dating a nobody with two teenage children.”

“A nobody,” she stammered, her chest hurting with Joel rambling off what he was saying.

“I don’t…you’re not a nobody. That’s not what I meant,” he threw his hand up finding himself flustered seeing that she was getting upset with what he was saying. “You know what I mean with how people are in the media Y/N.”

“Yeah, I get what you are saying,” she held her hand up almost as a request to get him to stop talking. “I’ve listened to everything you’ve said.”

“I think you’re focusing on the wrong things,” Joel claimed, placing his hand in over the center of his chest. “I love you. Okay? You’re just gonna end up hurt and I don’t want to see that. I don’t. You care what people think about you and I promise you it’s gonna draw up so much shit once people learn that Negan is dating you. About you. About our family…”

“I hear you,” she stopped him before he could continue and she crawled over him to get off the cushion. Pacing in the attic, she shrugged her shoulders and sighed loudly. “I just would still like to give this thing with Negan a chance.”

Hearing footsteps returning, Peter was coming back up and by the look on his face he could tell that there was tension between Joel and Y/N, “You two okay?”

“Yeah. I’m going to get your father a pillow and some blankets,” she offered looking back at Joel. By his dark eyes she knew that he was disappointed with where their conversation ended. “It’s late. Why don’t you spend the night up here so you can enjoy what you’ve done. Get to experience it for yourself.”

“Sure,” Joel frowned, dropping back onto the cushion again looking up at the sky.

“You okay?” Peter moved over to sit down beside his dad at the edge of the nook area with his legs hanging over. Y/N had headed back downstairs to go grab the things that she had offered to Joel.

“I’ll live,” Joel stretched out with a lump growing in his throat.

“You two aren’t ever getting back together, are you?” Peter wondered with a seemingly disappointed expression. Gazing over at Peter, Joel didn’t know what to say. It was a hard question to hear from Peter and he just shrugged. “I guess that’s a stupid question. If you two would have gotten back together it would have been four years ago. Not now.”

“It’s not a stupid question,” Joel stated reaching up and out to squeeze at his son’s shoulder. “Don’t say that.”

“I don’t understand why you two split anyways. We were always so happy when I was younger,” Peter recalled how things were when he was a child. They got separated when Peter was only nine so he was still pretty young. “I thought mom loved you.”

Hearing that had Joel’s eyes coming to a tight close. In the past, Y/N had mentioned how the children blamed her for them separating and Peter saying that just confirmed it, “When she kicked you out of the house I was so angry. I hated her for making you leave. We were a family and I never understood why she took you away from us.”

“She didn’t…she didn’t kick me out of the house,” Joel admitted behind a grimace, his throat tensing up at the thought. “Peter, I left. I’m the one that asked for the divorce. Not her. Your mother begged me to stay and I…didn’t.”

“Why?” Peter’s face twisted with confusion and even though he was used to his son being silly, Joel could see that Peter was actually conflicted with what he just learned. “What did she do?”

“Why do you assume that it was her that did something wrong?” Joel pushed himself up into a seated position.

“Because mom never complained about you. She just cried all the time,” Peter stressed what he remembered from when he was younger. “I mean she tried to pretend she was okay, but I heard her crying when she was alone. I just figured she was upset with something she had done. If it was your fault, wouldn’t she have said something?”

“Your mom is a really good mom,” Joel stressed what he knew to be true. “She never wanted you to hate me or feel negatively toward me. I just had a lapse in judgement and I’m the one that asked for a divorce. Not her.”

“And you regret it?” Peter wondered having Joel inhale loudly and nod. “Does she know you regret it?”

“It’s complicated,” Joel stammered not knowing the right thing to say.

“Hey,” Y/N’s voice drew both of them to look over at her and she held the pillow and the blankets up. Carefully hopping up from where he was laying, Joel cleared his throat and gave her a nod. “You’ll have to let me know what it’s like up here.”

“Will do,” Joel gave her a wink and then went to set up the area for him to get comfortable. Peter was still there sitting on the edge contemplating everything. Stealing a look back over his shoulder, Joel noticed that Y/N was still watching the two of them together. When their eyes locked, Joel sensed that she was sad before moving down the ladder to leave them alone. At this point? Her decision was made and Joel felt like he was just supposed to deal with it.

----

Tonight was sleepless for Y/N. Since she hadn’t called Negan during the day, he showed up at night to check in on her. It was uncomfortable considering Joel was up in the attic sleeping, but it was something that Joel was just going to have to get used to. Having Negan around was going to be a normal thing for them.

Lifting her head from Negan’s chest, Y/N let out an extended breath to look over Negan. Repeatedly the words that Joel had said to her about Negan had run through her mind. How she was just something to keep his interest while he was home. It was hard for her to believe that considering how good he had been with her since he had come to town.

Stroking her fingers over Negan’s abdomen, she lowered her head back against the center of his chest. Listening to his strong heartbeats comforted her. His breathing was loud letting her know that he was still sleeping. Forcing herself to close her eyes, she tried to sleep, yet she couldn’t stop thinking about things. Her mind wouldn’t relax.

Why couldn’t she sleep and just let it go?

“Ain’t he sweet?” a southern drawl caused her eyes to open slowly. Once she saw Joel standing at the door to her bedroom, she felt her throat tensing up with her head lifting from Negan’s chest. “Look at the two of you together.”

“Joel,” she spoke his name feeling uncomfortable that he had made his way down from the attic to come and see them together. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

“Why not? This used to be my home too,” Joel reminded her with a tip of his head, unhurriedly making his way to the corner of the bed to lower down onto it. Looking to Negan, Y/N was surprised to see that he was still sleeping with Joel approaching them. “Shouldn’t I be able to go anywhere I want?”

“Please stop this,” she begged of him, panicked that this was going to lead somewhere bad. “We’ve talked about this extensively Joel.”

“Stop what?” Joel retorted with a snort, leaning further back and bracing his weight on one hand. “I’m just having a conversation with you Y/N.”

“It’s inappropriate considering the situation,” she suggested looking to Negan when his breathing shifted, but he was still sleeping.

“What? You two are fully clothed,” Joel pointed to Negan, throwing his hands up in the air when she exhaled loudly. “For fuck’s sake, he’s sleeping anyways.”

“Can we please just talk in the morning?” she requested, pushing herself up into a fully seated position, doing her best to not wake Negan up with her movement. “I know you have a lot on your mind, but I just want to have a peaceful night, okay?”

“What is it about him?” Joel tipped his head to the side gazing over the sleeping Negan. “You obviously are still in love with me, so what is this? You’re trying to just make me jealous? Punish me for the things that I did?”

“No Joel, that’s not it at all,” she tried to reason with Joel having his face scrunch up in disbelief. “Yes, I love you, but I love Negan too. He’s incredible…”

“To you,” Joel pointed out with a huff. “We both know what Negan is capable of. Things he did. Sure, he acts different now that Lucille has passed away, but we both know the kind of man he is capable of being.”

“Knock it off,” she warned Joel who was obviously trying to start something. “I don’t know what it is about the two of you, but he’s been nothing but good to me and your children. When he didn’t even have to be. So please Joel, just go upstairs and sleep.”

“It always had to be a competition with you,” a deep rumble of a growl stammered from behind her. Looking over her shoulder, Negan’s eyelashes were lazily fluttering to an open. Negan’s voice was tired leaving it sounding raspier than normal. It took a minute to gather himself, but Negan dragged himself into a seated position, pressing his back against the headboard. “Not everything has to be a competition between us Joel.”

“Come on,” Joel scoffed, throwing his hand up dramatically. “When you’re sleeping with my ex-wife when I’m doing my best to get back with her, how couldn’t I?”

“Sleeping with your ex-wife?” Negan repeated, scratching at the side of his face. “We’re doing a little more than sleeping together. You act like I’m only here to get fucked.”

“You’re a man Negan,” Joel retorted, turning to face Negan fully. “You could have had anyone in this town, but it was my wife that you went after.”

“Ex-wife,” she corrected Joel who immediately rolled his eyes at her quickness.

“There is no feud between us here Joel. We were teenagers when everything happened and I’ve grown up,” Negan insisted, letting out a tense breath when he shrugged. “In some ways at least. I just care about Y/N and the things that she wants.”

“Right,” Joel mocked Negan’s tone having Negan snickering in response. “I’m sure that’s the only reason that you are doing this.”

“Listen, buddy…” Negan began, but Joel held his finger up in the air to silence him.

“I’m not your buddy,” Joel snapped at Negan which had Y/N in a panic. Why did this have to happen? With their children in the house, Y/N assumed that Joel would behave, but this was happening.

“You know what the difference between the two of us is?” Negan pointed at his chest and then toward Joel who shook his head dramatically waiting for some kind of answer.

“Can we not do this?” she asked them both, sliding forward in the hopes that they got the hint that she didn’t want the two of them fighting. Especially since both children adored Negan and Joel. Having them fight would just make things way more complicated for them.

“No, this needs to be said,” Negan assured her, sliding his left hand out to cover her knee to give it a supportive squeeze. Adjusting his position on the bed, Negan slid more toward the middle of the bed and it had a breath catching in her throat. “You want her all to yourself and if you can’t have her, you’ll have a shit fit. Me? If she wanted to be with you? I’d accept it.”

“Bullshit,” Joel’s jaw flexed, his angered brown eyes narrowing when his head tipped forward trying to intimidate Negan in some way. “I know that’s not true.”

“It is. I’d be okay with her picking you because I actually want to see her happy,” Negan declared with a firm shake of his head. “Even if she decided that right here, right now she wanted both of us…I’d be okay with it.”

Something switched in Joel’s face, the seriousness of the moment suddenly changing to confusion. Going to speak up, Joel stopped and then let out a tense breath, “Do you mean like a three-way?”

“Why the fuck not? If that’s what she wanted,” Negan muttered with a half-smirk. “If she wanted to be between the both of us? Who am I to say no? Unless you couldn’t handle something like that Joel. Are you too much of an alpha male to be able to share?”

“Share?” she repeated what Negan said, her heart fluttering at the idea. “You’re…you’d be okay with that?”

“Why not?” Negan threw his hands up in the air letting out an amused exhale. “I’m not an asshole. Like I said, the thing that matters the most to me is that you are happy. Joel. Me. Both of us. I’m okay with it.”

Gasping out, she felt the firm grasp of Joel’s fingers pulling on her jaw to get her to turn toward him. Hammering his lips in over hers, Joel’s kiss was determined eliciting an amused rumble from Negan behind her. A gentle tug on her jaw brought her to Negan who captured her lips in a kiss as if trying to prove something to Joel.

“Just like that?” Joel snorted with Negan faintly pulling his lips away from hers. “No jealousy?”

“Not from me,” Negan claimed with a wolfish smile, nipping at her bottom lip to give it a small tug. Chills were flooding her spine with Joel pushing at the material of the t-shirt she was wearing. Revealing her shoulder to him, Joel started pressing heated kisses over her shoulder having her trembling slightly at his touch.

“What is going on?” she placed her hands over both Joel and Negan’s chest to get them to back up. Right now it did feel like they were trying to have some kind of competition between them with her to prove a point. “What are you two doing?”

“He says he doesn’t care, so if he means it why not have both of us?” Joel growled, his thumb sweeping in over her jawline having her whimper. “It’s what you want, right? What you don’t get with me, you get with him and vice versa. So, take advantage of his offer.”

“The children are home,” she reminded both of them wondering if she was the only one that saw this as inappropriate.

“We’ll find ways to keep you quiet,” Negan captured her jaw between his thumb and index finger to bring her to kiss him. With a flick of his tongue over hers, Negan had her purring out against his lips. “So why don’t you just enjoy what it is that you really want.”

Both men were kissing over the sides of her neck having her heart rate skyrocketing with both a nervousness and want for them.

Just then, the sound of a car alarm went off eliciting a gasp from Y/N’s lips when she sat up in her bed. Letting out a tense breath, she realized that it was all a very realistic elaborate dream that her mind conjured up. The bed beside her was empty. She had spoken to Negan before bed, but he hadn’t come over.

Swallowing down hard, she dragged her hands down over the front of her face letting out a tense breath, “I can’t believe I just did that…”

If that car alarm hadn’t gone off, there was no question that she was about to have a sex dream where she was between both Joel and Negan. Reaching for her phone on the nightstand, she looked at the time and felt like the room was spinning around her.

Pulling herself up from the bed after letting her body calm down, she left her room. Taking a look around, the hallways were dark showing that everyone was still asleep. The ladder for the attic was still down which had her mind going to Joel. Moving up the steps of the ladder, she stopped when she reached the top.

Laid stretched out across the nook area of the attic was Joel deep in sleep with Peter laid out over his chest. Their loud breathing told her that they weren’t waking up anytime soon and truthfully? This was a sight that she actually liked. Even after a complicated dream like that, seeing the two of them this way warmed her heart.

Cautiously moving up into the attic, she unplugged the string lights to give them a break. Now the only light that was filtering into the room was from the stars and the moon from the outside. Which meant there wasn’t much light to filter throughout the attic that Joel had just finished for her. Thankfully there was a small light that she always had plugged in for the children when they would walk in the hallway to make sure they wouldn’t get hurt at night.

Stealing one more look at Peter and Joel together, she let out a long exhale. Leaving, she was careful to walk back down the ladder to the second floor back toward her bedroom. Laying back down, she thought about how realistic that dream was. It might have possibly been the most realistic one she ever had.

For some reason, her brain was doing a good job fucking with her lately and she didn’t know how to feel about it.

----

Tags: @chainsawsangel @fancypeacepersona @violent-darkness @negansbestie @elegantfanficluv

@sanctuaryforthelost @dead-of-niight @dilfsandmartinis @jennydehavilland

[raffa-taff]

do you have any alphonse fic recs?? I'm literally starving for any fanfictions that recognize the complex character he is and dont sideline him. please.

Hell yeah brother I got recs

Sorry for the wait!

These are just some fics I enjoyed reading (or from what I remember anyways), most of these are angst or some kind of hurt/comfort and please mind the tags🙏 I don’t think any of these recs have super heavy material (again from what I can remember but still). I’ve highlighted my faves in orange (hope that doesn’t cause readability issues) this will also probably be a long post sorry!

Most of thornbacks fics are pretty good in terms of how Alphonse is written, I don’t think they’ve done any fics centred on only Alphonse but every time I read a thornback fic I like how Alphonse is written in them, and in most of their fics Alphonse and his feelings are never really forgotten which I appreciate.

“Simple things” by PrinRue over on fanfic.net (I love this one so much, it’s still going atm too!. It’s not solely Alphonse focused but it does have like Alphonse focused chapters if that makes sense and I love them so so much and there’s a lot of great writing for Ed, winry and even pinako which is always great, it’s my fave fma fic atm)

“Close your eyes I’ll be here in the morning” by alphonselrics ( I read this one a while ago so I can’t remember much of this fic aside of bits and pieces here and there but I remember getting so excited every time I saw it had updated and that I enjoyed reading it a lot. Fic focused on als recovery. )

“You don’t have to go through this alone” by September bugs ( another post promised day Alphonse fic, with some parental riza and Roy thrown in. Mostly about Al struggling with his body and being overwhelmed by his regained senses, sweet ending :] )

All of the fics in “Alphonse elrics guide on how to spend your sleepless nights” by c_c_cherry (I always find myself going back to read this series every once in a while, the second one with riza is my fave)

“Musicology” by DeadlyGlacier ( just a really sweet Alphonse and winry fic )

“Of hospitals and health” by ReminiscentRevelry (post promised day fic with Al and Roy talking in the hospital )

“50 ways to explain a suit of armour” by kastaborous ( I remember finding this one pretty funny and an enjoyable read, there’s also an Edward variant by the same person I’m p sure)

“You can do that?” By waddlesthejoghog (gay Alphonse Elric, need I say more?)

“I fell in your arms tonite” by LAON (Elric brothers Ough💔)

“The fullmetal alchemists” by RoboticRainboots (not exactly only Alphonse focused but Ough Elric brothers again)

“Sherman, the rock” by Bookwrm389 (Alphonse being silly, I love him, and Elric brother banter. Mostly a humorous fic)

“Little wonders” by ADreamingSongbird (nice Alphonse and winry fic)

“You’re the only song I want to hear” by ADreamingSongbird (amazing fic, really, really good. Delves into how Alphonse feels just after being transmuted and does it really well in my opinion. I remember reading this one for the first time and going back to re-read sections because they were so good to me. Makes you feel really sad for Alphonse and the horrible things he must’ve been going through post transmutation and actually made my chest hurt those first couple times reading it, honestly can’t recommend it enough, if you read any fics from this list please let it be this one. Very sad but with a little nice moment with Alphonse and winry at the end)

“What” by bees cheese (silly fic from an outside perspective of someone listening to Ed and als convo)

“Life where we all are” by elkatt (hughes and Alphonse 💔)

“Dignity” by FollowerOfMercy (lovely fic, really, really like it, has some angst and takes place in the early days post-transmutation. Alphonse trying to regain a sense of humanity💔 and moments between him and pinako, my fave)

“Camping and cussing” by wakingnightmares ( silly sibling banter that makes me smile)

“Chasm” by AnEquivalentExchange (takes place after the scar fight)

“Touch” by TwitchySmurph (little fic taking place a bit after the transmutation)

“The old tomorrow doesn’t exist anymore” by Alphonsevebop (long fic with an interesting plot, focuses on Ed and winry too but I remember liking how Alphonse was written and being excited for updates)

“His little brother” by plateofpie (very sweet and I remember liking the premise of this one, feels realistic too, which I liked)

“An armoured cage” by plateofpie (really liked this one but I felt so bad for Alphonse gah💔 love reading fics about how people react to Alphonse and what he looks like in the armour. He’s still so young too and I feel like he’s written really well here, Alphonse oughhh💔 takes place during canon and focuses on the kind of attention Alphonse would probably get due to his armour and how he feels about it)

“What makes a human” by Emmmmy ( focus on Roy and Alphonse. Really like how Alphonse is written in this one, he really feels his age and the back and forth with mustang is so enjoyable to read imo)

And that’s all!

I apologise if this was too long but I wanted to make sure that I had some good picks for you since Al-centred fics can be hard to find, these are just some of my faves, I think I might have more actually but I can’t remember. I also apologise for some of the rambles next to the fics too but some of them are so good I just have to and I felt it might be a good idea to give a basic rundown of some of the fics anyways. Okay byeee! :]

[susandsnell]

i saw wicked today too and loved it! what did you think? (was i the only one who went "oh shit" out loud in the theater when That Cameo happened?)

well i may or may not have just gotten out of my second viewing of it in three days some fourish hours ago, so that should be some indication!

hiya bestie! sorry for the delays on this, things have been thinging and life has been lifing. I'll admit that as early as February I was not looking forward to this movie or its promised follow-up. Splitting it into parts confused me, I was dubious over some of the casting, the visuals, the lighting, and the use of CG, and was being a bit of a hater over the trailers. However, every hater worth their salt should eat crow when they're wrong, and wow was I ever wrong. I couldn't have been more wrong, actually, because I'll go so far as to say (though I have high high hopes for Nosferatu later this month)! that Wicked Part One was my favourite movie of 2024. Extended (gushing) quasi-organized thoughts under the cut, because like Elphaba, no I never stop talking.

Bit of background, I've been lucky enough to see the show live twice, plus countless bootlegs/the cast album being the soundtrack to my life since I was nine. I know the script, the score, and the lyrics back to front. So you can imagine how shocked/pleased I was to find that the movie retained just about everything! I know people are giving mixed reviews about the extended scenes/runtime, but honestly the Oz they gave us (which I'll get to momentarily) was so wonderful and the cast so wholly inhabiting of their roles that I could not get enough of the world and these characters. I also thought they fixed several plotholes/added depth and stakes to a lot of arcs from the musical with their changes, especially with respect to the villains.

Visually, the film is an absolute treat; the colour grading/lighting does have the unfortunate modern fantasy film vibe to it, but the sets, practical props/effects, and costumes more than make up for it. That rotating library portico set? Let me live there! The Wizard's invitation?? The choreography was fantastic and every dancing scene was shot so so beautifully. My only complaint really is the CGI; the animals looked really fakey and goofy, particularly poor Dr. Dillamond, to the point that my entire theater was cracking up when his little goat ears wilted at the blackboard scene during my first viewing. Which is...not really the reaction you want to go for with a scene that's supposed to be depicting a hate crime.

The costumes in particular were a standout; Paul Tazewell's work is so stunning (Morrible's gowns, the revised Popular dress, and Elphaba's little pirate academia number when she gets her Emerald City invite) that I feel comfortable saying with the exception of Glinda's Junon-takeoff bubble dress (because it's just so iconic), they vastly outdo the stage version's costumes. He needs an Oscar for this yesterday and I'm not kidding.

The performances!!! Oh my gosh! Everyone sounding great and there being good mixing?? in a musical movie made after 2007??? Who'd've thought!!! My only complaint musically was, unfortunately, during Defying Gravity. In the stage show there's like 2 pauses in the song for plot to happen (Morrible's call-out and making the broom fly), and through that iirc they keep the instrumental going. Today, at my second viewing, I counted like....6-7 pauses where the song just outright stops, including two instances where they play different sad piano music altogether and give Elphaba this big suit-up superhero moment because book cover nod I guess, and healing her inner child, and it was kind of a pain because part of what makes Defying Gravity such a memorable piece is its momentum and when you stop the song to do something else, the momentum really dies. With that said, all eight parts of Defying Gravity were, in each pocket, performed to perfection.

I had high hopes for Cynthia Erivo vocally, but was dubious about an apparently more earnest, innocent Act 1 Elphaba as opposed to the stage version which I'm more used to, where she's a lot more of a Daria type. However, I was so pleased to find that she deepened the aching tragedy of the character with this take, especially opposite a more sinister and insidious Wizard + Morrible, and her takes on these songs, her vocal choices, her runs...heavenly. Ariana Grande pleasantly surprised me as being much cuter and funnier than I expected, and her surprise option ups during Popular were an absolute treat. Jonathan Bailey was as charming and talented as any Fiyero worth his salt (also loved how casually they made him bisexual?), Jeff Goldblum as the Wizard killed me (especially since they played him as simultaneously more of a huckster conman and an Evil Walt Disney, and it worked), but the show-stealer was Michelle Yeoh as Morrible for my money.

From the moment Morrible swoops in to smoothly cover for Elphaba's power explosion, knowing what it would mean to her to be spared social ruin, I was on the edge of my seat with such a different take on what's usually just kind of a comic relief diva character. Michelle Yeoh's effortless grace and elegance command screen presence. But the slow creep of her goading Elphaba into intensifying her powers while playing the sympathetic ear/mother figure/mentor only to make the betrayal hit that much harder (I genuinely choked up during the cut to Elphie's face when she hears her saying that her skin is a manifestation of her twisted nature), to say nothing of dangling her approval over Glinda until becoming the shoulder for her to cry on at the end of Defying Gravity...my god. chills. Forget Gelphie, shoutout to all the teenage sapphics with something deeply, deeply wrong with them who are going to have an awakening over this chillingly manipulative milfy sorceress who presents herself as a twisted maternal figure and intellectual colleague.

On the note of Gelphie -- oh my god??? A homoerotic swordfight during What Is This Feeling - are you KIDDING???? They amped it up from the stage show if anything; the Ozdust sequence brought me to tears, and then ended with them joining hands and running off together and leaving Fiyero behind like???? The amount of times they fell over each other? Glinda's thousand-yard stare during No One Mourns The Wicked, Elphaba's longing/fond glances....the love note, are you kidding me. They were baby's first yuri for me so seeing them on the big screen played with such natural chemistry by Cynthia and Ariana warmed my heart and got me super emotional. Sidenote, okay, not to be the boss baby guy about Carrie, but with the changes/additions, Elphaba is kind of Carrie White now and I'm here for it? From the visions to the explosions to baby Elphie already having her powers in the flashbacks...and then you get to the Ozdust scene, and the extended cruelty towards her plays very much as Elphaba's They're All Gonna Laugh At You Moment...only for Glinda to swoop in and dance with her as the Sue Snell, so yeah, we now have fantasy CarrieSue in Oz. We won so hard.

Last bit, to address your point about the cameos -- I really was worried that I'd be cringing at all the lore tie-ins with the '39 Wizard of Oz or the Broadway cameos or any of the other fanservice, but it all tied in and flowed so smoothly at most I was rolling my eyes affectionately rather than in exasperation (the Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead tie-in to No One Mourns The Wicked was shockingly seamless). Stephen Schwartz being the one to invite them to see the wizard got me properly emotional!! Idina and Kristin were hilarious and 10/10 diva legends as always, and the extended Wiz-O-Mania propaganda play/Grimmerie Lore Dump is both a visual and auditory treat. The original Glinda showing up to tell Ari to shut the fuck up during her song got maybe the biggest laugh of the movie out of me, but then they had Idina doing her end of defying gravity 'aaaaaaah ah ahhhh' Elphaba War cry riff as a heehe gag just like...20ish minutes before Cynthia!Elphaba is going to do it for real. Which had me in stitches because it plays then as either subversion of the wizard's propaganda in finding her voice, or Elphaba's a theatre kid and said yeah that was a sick riff I heard 2 hours ago, I'm going to incorporate it into my political loudmouthing after nearly being assassinated 20 times. Fuck you, Oz man, I'm stealing your propaganda riff!

What an ending. What a movie. Can't wait for part 2.

Thanks for asking! <3 hope you're well.

[austenpoppy]

Gotta disagree with that one. First, Dixon didn't completely ignore the Titans. We have to remember that when Dixon's run started, Dick was taking a break from the Titans after everything that had happened (Titans Hunt, Mirage raping him, his failed wedding with Kory, having to step down as leader...) and he was trying to stand on his own two feet again and to feel confident in himself after his self-esteem got shattered pretty badly.

On top of that, Roy had built a team that included Mirage, one that Donna joined later. There is no way Dick would've been comfortable interacting with that team. And Titans 1999 started...well, in 1999. For about three years there was no team Dick could've been a part of. I think it's partly the point of the team-up between Dick, Garth, Roy and Wally in Titans vol. 2 that the Titans hadn't seen each other for some time and wanted to spend more time with one another after the mission (though we know Dick and Wally did see each other, and that Roy came to see Dick for help regarding Jade).

Despite that, Wally made two appearances before Grayson's run - which isn't bad, considering Dick's first appearance in the Flash vol. 2 after a small cameo in #1 is pretty much in #81. Dick called Wally for information early in the run, and Wally came to check up on Dick when Dick was depressed after "Last Laugh". And Dick told Tad Ryerstad he belonged to the Titans.

Titans 1999 worked well on that front because it included elements from each character's solo run/stories, instead of it being the other way around as you suggest (Dick's busy schedule and learning how to be a cop, Wally's double, Bette and Gar starting Titans West again...).

Grayson started writing for Nightwing before freaking Winick wrote Graduation Day and the abomination that is The Outsiders. Winick had a specific story and characterization in mind that he wanted for "Dick's" character - never mind that it was the contrary of everything Dick represents. For the two to work, Grayson would've had to completely adapt her story, and have Dick pull away from everyone and being emotionally distant with pretty much everybody. Not just Grayson, in fact, but every writer who frequently included Dick (Gotham Knights, Batman, Robin, Birds of Prey...).

Strangely enough, the one comic that includes Dick having a truly similar characterization to the Outsiders is the Titans/Outsiders crossover leading to Dick's departure of the Outsiders (that's irony, just in case). Even appearances of Dick among Outsiders in other comics (such as Green Arrow) could be a team-up Dick sometimes had with Outsiders, as his characterization in those comics isn't as jarring as the one in Outsiders.

But yeah, I'd find it unfair and for Grayson and for Dick if Grayson had had to adapt to Winick. For Grayson, because she had a story to tell (and her story had flaws, but at least Dick was in character for most of it). For Dick, because I'm not down for a character being nerfed in his own solo series for a writer who doesn't bother with his history (which is very obvious considering the way he had Dick leave the Outsiders the first time, and this departure had zero relevance to Dick's solo story and was incoherent with it because Winick couldn't bother).

I'm Winick's writing first hater, in case it wasn't clear.

It's not just Dick, either. In Graduation day I know Tempest is there, and you have to wonder why the hell Garth is part of the team considering he was forced by Dolphin to quit without so much as a goodbye in Titans 1999. There's Roy calling for Helena in Outsiders, Winick ignoring all established canon about the relationship between Dick and Helena. Saying Dick's not caring enough only for Jade to be the most cold-hearted @#€% ever. Including Kory for zero reason other than having "Dick" sleep with her after he was supposedly raped by Tarantula.

Dick had a hard time in his Nightwing run because Grayson also had a story to tell, and that story was about Dick's life being gradually destroyed to shatter his sense of identity at the most emotionally challenging moment and have him question it.

As an aside, Roy's appearance in the Nightwing run can totally work if Dick wasn't part of the Outsiders, or even if he only helped occasionally.

I really wish Donna's death was mentioned at least once during the Grayson run because everything else is happening but I think Donna's death is also part of the reason why he had such a bad time that year and you can read it in the Outsiders but also... I really wish we got to see it acknowledged in his solo.

And to be fair, this might just be a consequence of Nixon just absolutely ignoring the Titans except for some hallucinations but she brought back Wally and Roy at the end ? And she was writing Titans 1999 right before.

[hellomagicalsouls]

having comfort characters that aren't comfortable sucks. like what do you mean you got kidnapped and your family didn't notice and you got stuck in vietnam and watched the love of your life die.

well shit, i can't complain about anything ever again.

[hollow-vok]

Ohh im obssesed

[macaroni-stars]

Decided to read about long-term consequences of lightning injuries for Luke, and.. The persentage of depression and ptsd is higher than in s* survivors and survivors of mass natural disasters ☠️☠️☠️

[lokissweater]

little mouse

{toge inumaki x f!reader}

summary: toge inumaki, the barista at your local campus coffee shop, is the cutest man to ever cross your life— the both of you clicking fast and becoming the best of friends as the years flew by together… but you were in love. uncertain of crossing that line between friendship and lovers as you focused mainly on trying to see if he even liked you back. but as for toge? he was focused on trying not to burden you for the rest of your life because of his inability to speak, wanting you and only you, but juggling and tormented over his labored silent existence, hurting you in the process.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, college!au, FLUUUFFFF SO MUCH, pet names, TOGE LOVES YOU BROOO, angst!!! but with comfort!!, happy ending, SMUTTTT, p in v sex, fingering, creampie, doggy hehe, mentions of alcohol and drinking, sorority party, toge is a barista ouuu, cursing, best friends to lovers trope, reader and toge argue, all characters are aged up.

word count: 15.2k

authors note: YEEEOOOOWWWWW this fic was originally NOOTTTT supposed to be 15k but i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again I CAN NEVA STOP YAPPING MY GOD??? i hope you guys love this one as much as i do though it is SOOOOOO CUTEEE man :(( thank you SO SO MUCH for your love and support as ALWAYS, AND I LOVE YOUUUU AHHH MWAH MWAH HAVE A GOOD DAY OKAY <333

anyone that was a regular at the shop knew toge inumaki didn’t really ever speak.

and it was something you found out on your first day of college, running to the nearest coffee shop at eight-thirty in the fucking morning looking for something to snack on and wake you up before lecture, choosing to go to the one just around the corner from campus through a recommendation of a friend— but not knowing at all that you were about to run into the cutest man to ever plague your god damn existence, as well as your bestest friend in the entire world.

toge was the main barista and cashier at the shop, his mixology skill incomparable as no one else on the floor could replicate it successfully without errors the way he did— ringing customers up while simultaneously throwing coffee bases and syrups in a blender, topping each corresponding one with whipped cream on various orders before sliding it over to the pick up counter, all without even breaking a sweat through the times that you’ve shamefully watched him work from your little table before or after classes.

the first time you met him, you thought he was just having a bad day… and that he also hated you.

you had politely told him your order while at the same time ogling his handsome face— a small and simple sweet vanilla cold brew drink with a little blueberry scone on the side— when toge didn’t even spare you a glance and just tapped in your order on the screen, turning the tablet over to showcase the total before moving to the back to get started on your drink, not a single word leaving his scarf covered mouth as you silently paid and got a table.

it’s not like you were expecting anything out of it, but you hoped you would at least catch the color of his eyes before you had to leave.

and it went on like that for a total of four days— you saying the exact same order but just switching up the little pastry depending on your mood (it only consisting of your usual three— blueberry scone, cake pop, and cheese danish), toge’s eyes never leaving the register or drinks he made as you waited, and him sliding over your order in record time as he got started on attending the next customer.

on the fifth day, toge finally looked up.

the way he took your order didn’t change, but when it came to placing it over the pick up counter where you stood, your eyes widened when you noticed he was already looking at you, a grin on his face as he personally handed you your drink instead of sliding it over.

his eyes were purple.

and you just about fucking screamed, your days of hopelessly coming in to try and ridiculously take longer peeks at his face whenever you could finally paying off in that moment— and not expecting whatsoever to see the sides of his mouth marked with tattooed snake eyes either.

that day was also the day you noticed toge knew sign language.

most of the time toge took orders quickly without a word and punched in requests, but from time to time when a customer had a question about a menu item or what the passcode to the bathroom was, he always had a little whiteboard next to him with a black marker to scribble out what he needed to say— regulars already knowing how he communicated and not batting a single strange eye.

but on that day, a new customer came in that you didn’t recognize to be a regular, signing to one of the confused employees at the cash register until the employee turned around and tapped toge on the shoulder, pointing and saying words you couldn’t really hear before he quickly nodded and put down the blender he was holding, going over to sign.

you were mesmerized by it, the way his hands and fingers came together and away from each other to form different words and sentences completely unknown to those who didn’t understand the language, something that was beautiful to you and made you want to actually learn so you could potentially have the liberty to talk to him some time in the future if you could.

the next time you came into the shop early in the morning, toge was at the register. and upon seeing you walk in, he smoothly looked down and started typing away already on the screen, seemingly not listening and leaving you standing there confused.

“um—” you stammered. “can i…”

you trailed off as you watched him pick up his whiteboard and uncap the marker, scribbling.

‘i remembered your order.’

you froze, your heart doing enormous leaps considering this was the first time toge actually spoke to you apart from getting your order down and smiling at you.

“oh! really?” you laughed nervously. “…do i come in here too often then?”

he gave you a friendly grin and shook his head, erasing what he had before writing again.

‘do you want a blueberry scone, cake pop, or cheese danish?’

your eyes bulged. “you know that too?!”

he laughed, the sound making your hands clammy as you giggled along with him shyly.

“i’ll do a cake pop today!” you smiled. “i’m running a little late and that’s— easy to eat.. you know—”

he gave you a thumbs up and nodded, signaling with his head for you to wait by the pick up counter as he scribbled another few words, turning the whiteboard around.

‘i’ll see you tomorrow :)’

your cheeks flushed pink.

“y—yeah!” you spoke gingerly. “i’ll see you toge.”

the next few times after that toge would absolutely beam whenever you came into the shop, having already scribbled down your three choices of your usual pastries before having it ready for you at the pick up counter once you chose, even every now and then asking you a simple thing or two about your classes and major from the register as you sat by your table, him propping his little whiteboard up for you to see.

and ever since you saw that toge knew sign language, you wanted to know too, your desire to communicate with him more efficiently a silly priority on your mind as you signed up for entry level sign language courses at your college, trying to learn as much as you possibly could so it’d be easier for him not always having to step back and write.

“wait wait!” you put your hands out one slow morning upon arriving at the shop, toge stopping mid tap on the screen just as he was about to input your order, eyeing you.

your fingers shook a little as you slowly signed your order and choice of pastry for the day, trying to remember and grasp what you practiced repeatedly the night before, hoping your efforts would successfully come across and that you didn’t look like a fucking idiot.

but his focused eyes followed your movements, carefully watching you sign with pinched brows until you eventually finished— a slow pearly white smile spreading across is face as his gaze flickered to yours before writing on his whiteboard, turning it.

‘you know sign language?’

“barely!” you sputtered. “i um.. i started taking classes a couple of months ago but i’m not very good… did you— get it though? what i said?”

he quickly nodded.

‘it was a little choppy but good! good job y/n :)’

you breathed out a sigh of relief, a hand over your hammering chest as you swallowed.

“oh thank god.” you breathed. “i was worried i looked stupid or was accidentally telling you something weird.”

he laughed and waved you off, a slight tint to his cheeks as he wrote.

‘how’s learning it overall?’

“hard as fuck.” you mumbled, but peering up at him with a smile. “i’m trying though! i really love the language and i love learning it… it’s just hard because my professor kind of sucks and teaches it too fast.”

he hummed, moving around in the back while preparing your order before coming around through the little swinging door and over to your usual table, you standing dumbfounded at the register still as he stood there with your pastry and his whiteboard.

toge pointed to your seat.

“oh!” you gasped, walking over and taking a seat, smiling gratefully once he placed your coffee and cheese danish down for you, but stiffening once he scooched the chair out across from you and sat, your cheeks ablaze again.

“you wanna—” you looked at him with furrowed brows. “you wanna sit with me?”

he laughed a little and nodded.

“but the…” you pointed to the cash register.

he uncapped his marker and wrote, turning the board over.

‘it’s a slow day. if someone comes in i’ll just go.’

“oh— okay!” you breathed out nervously, wringing your fingers together as you kept them on your lap.

your thoughts were speeding across every corner of your mind, not knowing exactly why toge chose to sit with you right now but hanging on to the moment anyways, you anxiously trying to come up with things to say to get to know him a little better.

“i like your um..” you pointed to the corners of your mouth. “—your tattoos. did they hurt?”

he smiled and wrote.

‘thanks :) and not really, my throat hurts more than the tattooing itself hehe.’

your eyes snapped up to his.

“your throat?” you asked softly. “is it okay?”

‘oh it’s fine!’ he wrote. ‘well no but it just hurts a lot when i talk so i just don’t.’

you hummed in understanding, the missing puzzle as to why exactly toge never spoke out loud to anyone in the first place finally clicking into place.

“i’m sorry toge…” you expressed sweetly. “have you tried— well i assume you have but… like getting it checked out? or maybe honey with lemon or—”

he turned his board around.

‘yeah :P nothing really works. L for me.’

you giggled, and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth in a smile.

‘can you show me what else you know in sign language?’

“ohhh this is it.” you swallowed. “you’re about to laugh in my face and think i’m stupid.”

he laughed and gave you a look.

‘you’re silly. just show me.’

you huffed before timidly showing him very basic simple phrases that you managed to pick up from class out of the millions that were shown— short choppy kiddy words that didn’t even serve to get by in a quick conversation, but enough for simple one worded responses.

“oh! and i like this one the most!—” you put the bases of your palms together and rubbed a little.

toge let out a squeaky cute laugh as he watched you before quickly picking up his marker and writing.

‘cheese? your favorite thing to sign is cheese?’

“yeah!—” you giggled shyly. “it’s funnn! and i never fuck it up.”

he nodded with a gleam in his eye.

‘i could teach you sign language if you want.’

you froze, eyes wide as you looked at him.

“seriously?” you quickly leaned forward. “are— are you sure? you definitely don’t have to at all toge… i don’t want to burden you or anything.”

his eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head.

‘not burden at all.’ he wrote. ‘i’m a lazy fart i don’t do much besides this so it’s fine.’

you giggled and nodded excitedly, a hopeful shine in your eyes as you looked at him.

“o—okay!” you agreed. “i’d like that a lot… thank you toge!”

he was so nice.

and just as he was about to write something else, a customer came through the doors and up to the cash register, toge quickly scribbling something down before standing and showing you, walking backwards.

‘i’ll talk to you later little mouse :)’

you laughed loudly, a hand flying over your mouth as you did.

that nickname stuck.

“bye toge!” you responded kindly, gathering your things before heading out for the day with your coffee and pastry.

unfortunately for you, midterm season came and knocked the absolute shit out of you for a week, you unable to go back to the coffee shop to see toge until it was all fucking over, your heart heavy over the fact that you literally failed your sign language test, but giddy and excited nonetheless to finally see him after a while and go back to your usual happy routine.

and as for toge, he was left utterly confused.

was he too forward? did you think it was weird when he called you little mouse? did you think he was weird?

was it something he did? why had you stopped coming into the shop after going in continuously for like weeks at this point?

and he had just gotten the courage to look you in the eye too.

toge literally had your order ready every single day with your three pastries warmed up and toasted if need be, your sweet vanilla cold brew drink ready to go the moment you walked through those doors at any given point and time… but you just didn’t come. him leaning on the register counter bored out of his mind and dejected over the disappearance of the pretty nice girl that always came in and talked to him at his work, ending up always drinking the coffee he made for you silently and munching on the three pastries you chose between when it was time to close.

but when you finally came in, early in the morning like you always did and looking forward to seeing him again— toge was hunched over the counter with his chin propped up on his hand like he had been for the past week, you unknowing of that as you walked over with a smile.

“hi toge!”

he shot up, eyes wide with his palms flat on the counter.

“y/n!—”

he spoke.

toge spoke and he immediately cowered over in a fit of painful sounding coughs that racked through his body, his mouth shoved into his elbow as he quickly pushed through the doors and walked to the back, leaving you there wide eyed and completely fucking shocked.

he said your name.

“toge..?” you called softly, timidly as you leaned over the counter to try and catch a look at him from inside the employee break room, still hearing faint coughing. “hey— are you okay?”

he returned to the floor chugging back a bottle of cough syrup like nothing before tossing it into the nearest bin and swallowing, snatching his marker to write on the mini whiteboard, holding it up.

‘where the fuck have you been?’

you looked at him with an apologetic little face, your eyes soft.

“i’m sorryyy!” you whined. “i’m so sorry it was midterm week for me and i was grinding so hard and i just didn’t have time to come in… it was torture.”

you guiltily bit your lip. “…are you mad at me?”

he shook his head slowly, his shoulders visibly relaxing at the confirmation that it wasn’t anything he did that could’ve potentially put you off.

‘not at all mouse :P.’ he wrote before reaching to the side and sliding over your already made coffee and three pastries, lined up.

and surprise crossed your face.

“you had it ready?” you gasped. “toge! thank you!”

you quickly opened your book bag and he placed a hand over your arm, stopping you and shaking his head ‘no.’

“no?” you asked softly. “what do you mean? i’m just gonna pay.”

toge only shook his head again with a small smile, nudging his head over for you to sit at your usual table.

your shoulders slumped. “now what would you do if i just burst out crying right now.”

he laughed loudly and let go of your arm to write, leaving a burning fuzzy feeling on your skin in return.

‘cry? why?’

“because you’re so nice!” you whined. “please let me pay. i already feel bad not coming in for a week… especially after you offered to teach me sign language.”

‘go sit down mouse. i’ll sit with you in a little bit.’

you begrudgingly stood in place before nodding and taking your drink with your bag of pastries, walking over to the side and plopping down on a seat.

toge had a bit of a rush in and couldn’t join you for nearly an hour, him constantly shooting you apologetic looks and you frantically waving him off and reassuring him that it was okay, you astronomically thankful that you didn’t have class that day until later in the evening.

but when the rush was eventually over, toge dropped down on the seat across from yours with a big tired sigh and his whiteboard, head down.

you gently poked his arm then, and he looked up.

“is your throat okay?” you asked, face serious. “and you?”

he nodded, giving you a warm smile before grabbing his marker.

‘it happens sometimes, i just slipped up. L for me again.’

you smiled sadly and retracted your hand from across the table to settle back over your lap.

“i like your voice… if that makes you feel any better.” you spoke shyly, looking down at your fingers.

toge bit the inside of his cheek and smiled cheekily.

‘thanks mouse… but i know something that’ll make me feel even better hehe.’

“what?” you asked curiously.

he wrote.

‘give me your number before you disappear on me again you little rat.’

“hey!” you whined. “i thought i was a mouse..”

he chuckled cutely and nudged your foot gently from underneath the table, erasing and writing again.

‘i’m just kidding. we need to set up those sign language lessons soon though :D.’

and at the reminder of that you groaned, body slumping over the table as toge eyed you confusedly.

“you’re gonna laugh. or be mad. or disappointed. or all three..” you mumbled, voice slightly muffled.

he poked your head repeatedly and you lifted it, chin resting lazily on the table as he looked at you expectantly.

“i failed my sign language midterm.”

toge snorted but quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, and you whined again before shoving your face back down as he quickly shook you by the shoulders, trying to get you to look up again.

“no no no i’m a disgrace i’m a failure i studied so fucking hard for nothing it’s over i’m not cut out—”

he kept shaking and delicately pinching you before you finally looked up again.

“what.” you mumbled, eyes dragging to his propped up whiteboard.

‘i’m sorry i laughed… but don’t worry you’ll pass the next one. you’ll be okay.’

“and how do you know.” you grumbled.

‘because now you have delicious me, duh :P’

you giggled softly and lifted yourself from the table, leaning back against your chair.

he gave you a warm knowing smile before writing again.

‘cheer up mouse… i promise i’ll help you.’

a slow cutesy grin spread across your face, one that made him swallow hard as you looked at him through your lashes.

“thank you toge… do you— do you work tomorrow?”

his gaze flickered up in thought before he shook his head, eyes landing back on yours.

“maybe we could start… tomorrow? if you’re free? and if— if it’s okay of course!” you stammered nervously, gnawing at your bottom lip as you waited for his response.

his cheeks fluttered pink a little before quickly nodding.

“okay!” you breathed excitedly. “great! we could do it here? or—”

he frantically shook his head no and uncapped his marker.

‘my dickhead manager will pull me to work if i’m here on my day off.’

you laughed and nodded. “okay not here then.. where? we can try my place but i already know my parents are gonna be annoying about bringing a guy over so..”

he smiled and looked down to write.

‘we can do my apartment mouse. i live alone.’

your eyes widened. “you have your own place? really?”

he slowly nodded.

“that’s so cool toge! oh my goodness i can’t wait to see it now!”

you bounced enthusiastically in your seat and he chuckled, perplexed as to why you would ever be excited to see something like that, but choosing not to question it.

‘it’s kind of small, and i mainly just sleep and be lazy if i’m not working or streaming.’

you tilted your head. “streaming..?”

he pursed his lips and looked down again to scribble, an embarrassed undertone to his face before propping the whiteboard up.

‘i play games and stream to earn extra money on the side like a little loser.’

you giggled, your eyebrows slightly furrowing before relaxing. “why would that make you a little loser toge? you’re making money while doing something you like… i think that’s really fun!”

an eager attractive grin ran across his face before quickly writing again.

‘i’m glad you think so :) but give me your number neow.’

“oh that’s right!” you beamed, taking his offered whiteboard and marker before quickly writing down your number with a heart in the corner, passing it back.

“just text me whenever and we can set a time for tomorrow okay?”

he nodded, his eyes trained to the heart you drew.

for the rest of his shift, toge spent it bouncing around between your table and back to the cash register to take orders and make drinks, seemingly finishing each beverage ten times fucking faster than usual just so he could come over and talk to you before you had to leave again for your evening class.

but you didn’t want to leave whatsoever, and you even juggled the possibility of skipping class to stay longer with toge, but the next class happened to be sign language, and you didn’t want to fail another fucking midterm by not showing up and missing material.

you threw your trash away before grabbing your book bag and slinging it over your shoulder once it was time, you slowly and timidly trying to get toge’s attention as you walked to the exit.

your shy raised hand caught his eye in between him blending and pouring drinks, toge quickly putting everything down and reaching for the whiteboard from the register, erasing whatever he had from a previous customer to write and flipping it over with a silly smile.

‘bye mouse!’ it read. ‘i’ll see you tomorrow! :P.’

and that was nearly two and a half years ago, the heart you drew in the corner of his whiteboard still there to this day as he answered questions, responded, or scribbled directions in any given situation with it no matter if it was in or outside of work— always wanting to have a little part of you with him wherever he went.

toge also kept his promise and taught you sign language, you trying so so fucking hard every waking day you spent with him at his cute little studio apartment— learning phrases and properly constructing it into sentences that actually made sense as you both sat sprawled on the floor for hours on end, him patient and kind as he watched you shakily sign and accept his gentle corrections with an open mind.

but although your sentences were continuously choppy and a little off at that point in time, they were definitely in way better condition than when you tried to study and learn it on your own… and toge was unsurprisingly a really good teacher— ten times more helpful than your literal freaking licensed professor whom you had started with, as toge would actually take the time to write and explain each concept in the best way he possibly could for you to understand.

now you were comfortable enough with it to respond in very simple sentences and phrases, but stronger at understanding it whenever toge signed to you, a plus when he clumsily forgot his whiteboard somewhere or when he just didn’t want to use it.

and ever since that first day you went over to his place to learn and study, you literally never went a day without going back again, your cute routine with him being going to his apartment every second of the day to hang out with him or do the things that you needed to do— some that could easily be done in your own space and home and room, but you refusing to for the sole purpose of wanting to be with toge all of the time, him feeling the exact same way and going as far as to giving you a copy of the key to his apartment.

(toge :D): MOUSE

(toge :D): MOUSE

your phone buzzed repeatedly just as you were walking up the steps to toge’s floor, you nearly dropping it over the uncontrollable buzz.

(toge :D): LITTLE MOUSE

(you): YES <3

(toge :D): ouuu a heart?? i didn’t know we were married :P

you let out a giggle and quickly typed a response, your face hot.

(you): mmm i don’t know my ring finger is quite literally bare right now :/ maybe next time!

(toge :D): YOOOOO

(toge :D): it’s because it’s gonna be under your pillow

(toge :D): like from the tooth fairy

(toge :D): a big shiny cock

(toge :D): I MEAN ROCK

(toge :D): ROCK I MEANT ROCK SORRY

you burst out laughing as you readjusted your book bag on your shoulder and turned the corner, nearing his apartment number.

(toge :D): …please still come over

(toge :D): oh wait that’s why i texted you! :P

(toge :D:) WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU

(toge :D): YOU’RE LATE MOUSE

(you): LMFAAOOO

(you): IM COMMINGGGG i’m literally down the hall sir

(you): but now that you yelled at me HMMMM i don’t feel like going today <//3

(toge :D): NO

(toge :D): i’m sorry i’m on my knees

(toge :D): i’m begging

(toge :D): i even brought you a blueberry scone from work

(toge :D): and i’ll buy you whatever you want

(toge :D): FUCK COME OVER NOOOWWWWW

(you): SAY PLEASE AND ADDRESS ME CORRECTLY

(toge :D): PLEEEAASSEEE MOUUSEE

you bit your lip in attempts at suppressing your giddy smile, it not really fucking working as you arrived at his door, pulling your keys out from your bag and shuffling through them to find his— one that had a tiny onigiri design on it.

(you): coming!! <33

(toge :D): so you’re saying we’re married again :P

the door clicked open upon you twisting the key in, stepping inside before closing it behind you while juggling your textbooks and locking it, toge seated on his little gaming chair when he swiveled around and waved at you with a big smile, standing.

“toge!” you gasped exhaustedly, stepping over to him. “you have got to help me please my god—”

he grabbed the textbooks from your arms and walked over to his desk, setting them down before turning back around and giving you a curious look.

‘what’s wrong?’ he signed.

“everything! everything is wrong sign language two is not for the weak oh my goodness gracious—”

you flopped down with your back flat on his bed, eyes shut in agony as he watched you amusedly.

“my professor’s teaching us grammar now and it just gets harder! i don’t know where to properly put anything or— or sign anything.”

he giggled softly and you peeked an eye open, looking at him.

‘i’ll help you mouse.’ he signed, stretching a hand out and you taking it, letting him pull you up to sit as you lazily did so.

“but i ask you too much.” you pouted. “and i feel bad every time i do, especially when you’re playing.”

he snorted, going over to his little dining table and pulling out a chair, lifting it over to his desk gaming set up area and placing it down before ushering you over with his hand.

“nuh uh.” you shook your head.

toge gave you a half lidded look and sat on the dining chair, him always saving his big comfy gaming chair for you whenever you sat with him at his desk since the first time you came over— his eyes expectant.

you deeply sighed and stood, trudging over to his gaming chair before plopping yourself down.

“you don’t have to toge… it’s okay.” you spoke gently. “you’ve been teaching me for like— two years already. my new year’s resolution was to stop bothering you about it and let you live.”

he slid his little whiteboard over and erased what he previously had, uncapping his marker and writing.

he showed you.

‘i’ll always help you and you know that :( and it doesn’t bother me you rat, i do it because i want to.’

or because he’s in love with you. either or.

you giggled and lifted your hand, your index finger erasing over the word ‘rat.’ “—it’s mouusee toge. it’s like you get off on abusing and hurting your bestest mestest friend.”

he laughed boyishly and put down his whiteboard, sliding over one of your textbooks from across the table to him and flipping through several pages, reading to try and see exactly where you were at by the sticky notes you left behind in the margins.

“don’t you have to stream today though?” you asked timidly. “like right now?”

he simply shrugged, turning a page as he reached over to write again on his board.

‘i can stream later tonight—’

he quickly turned it around again to add something just as you had finished reading, him flipping it back over.

‘—with you asleep on my bed. because you’re sleeping over. and that’s FINAL.’

you laughed loudly while leaning forward, your cheeks brewing up a little flush at the request even though you’ve slept over at his place plenty of times before— the thought of him actively wanting you to making your heart bounce around erratically in your chest.

“fuck i don’t know…” you feigned concern. “i’m not sure if i can toge i’m sorry.”

he slumped, eyes so sad that it made you almost sick to your stomach as you struggled to commit to the small bit.

‘why not?’ he signed.

“because i’m missing something.” you pouted.

‘missing?’ he signed again. ‘missing what?’

you snickered.

“my ring!” you extended your hand to him and wiggled your little fingers, you poking the tip of your tongue out to the side cutely. “the one you promised me over text.”

toge breathed out a laugh and nearly dropped dead at your cute expression, him mimicking you and sticking his tattooed tongue out before picking up his whiteboard from his lap to write.

‘i told you the tooth fairy has it :D you have to be patient little mouse.’

you giggled and put your arm down, giving him a stern silly look.

“kayyy thennn!” you dragged, sitting up in your chair and looking over your textbook. “i’ll be expecting my big shiny rock under my pillow in the morning sir.”

he saluted you and you grinned, the rest of the time being spent with toge trying to teach you as best as he could with you hopelessly following along, feeling like the dumbest bitch alive and embarrassed whenever you got something wrong.

but toge never minded, not one single bit— even when you made the same grammar mistake literally three times in a row and him correcting you each freaking time the same exact way, no sign of annoyance or frustration on his face as he worked with you.

and that’s one of the biggest reasons as to why you loved toge so much. since the moment you met him all he wanted to do was just help you, regardless of the fact if you were a stranger or not as he generously always put the things he needed to do aside for you— making sure you were always okay and getting the things you needed no matter how many times you told him he didn’t need to worry, you feeling special and appreciated whenever you were with him no matter what.

you hoped to god he felt the same… and you hoped you weren’t being straight delusional when you noticed the way he looked at you a little longer than he should have at times, or when you read too much into the casual little pecks on your head from him, or when you had told him how much you loved just studying on the floor beside him while he streamed but made a joke that sometimes you couldn’t see because it was so dark in his apartment, toge literally the next day buying you a little flower lily lamp to set and prop up right next to you so you could comfortably study, him laughing and wiping your tears when you ridiculously cried over his consideration.

so did that mean he loved you too?

“toge…” you murmured in the midst of him fixing a signage error of the word ‘before’ with his fingers.

he pointed to your hands so you could take note of the alteration he made, waiting for you to carry on then.

you smiled softly in gratitude before continuing.

“have you ever—” you pursed your lips. “have you ever um… well— actually nevermind—”

he blinked before slowly lifting his hands.

‘have i ever what?’ toge signed, and you quickly shook your head.

“nevermind! it’s okay.”

he gently nudged your foot with his, beckoning you to tell him as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

fuck.

okay if he kisses your head right now then you’ll tell him.

“i forgot toge.” you lied. “that’s why i said nevermind… oopsie!”

he laughed and leaned forward, pecking your forehead before reaching a hand up to ruffle up your hair.

fuck!

no you take it back you can’t do it you can’t—

‘silly.’ he signed, turning his attention back to your textbook and flipping a page.

he wondered what it was, but figured it would come back to you eventually and you’d tell him soon after.

by the end of the day, it was like there was an actual fucking light at the end of the tunnel for you and your sign language two class— you going from being over a thousand percent sure that you were about to pathetically fail the entire course, to having a shiny little sliver of hope because of toge’s ability to get anything through your big head and make you understand, feeling eternally grateful for him in many ways than one.

and you wanted him, so fucking bad, ever since you saw him at the coffee shop, that you thought in that moment while toge set up his bed for you to sleep in while you sat on his desk chair, dressed in his big white t-shirt and pajama pants, that if you just— maayybee tested the waters and crossed the line a little bit without it being too drastic, that you’d get your answer.

but did you want to know? what if he didn’t love you back? what the fuck were you supposed to do then?

cry and wither away, that’s what. you don’t think you’ve ever loved someone as much as you loved toge.

you hear the familiar squeaks of his black marker streaking against his little whiteboard, the sound pulling you from your thoughts and you looked up.

‘you’re so spacey today pretty. are you still worried about your class? :(‘

pretty.

“oh!” you stood. “no toge i feel a lot better about it actually because of you… thank you.”

he grinned, nodding before walking and leaning over his pc to set up his streaming session, mouse clicking away.

“toge—”

he looked over at you with his gorgeous purple eyes and you froze, cheeks heating up as your wobbly lips struggled to come together and fucking speak.

“nevermind nevermind—”

his eyes narrowed, snatching his whiteboard and quickly writing.

‘you did this earlier today too. tell me what’s wrong.’

“no.”

‘no?’ he signed. ‘tell me y/n.’

“no! not my name!” you dived dramatically on his comfy blanket filled bed and groaned. “you only call me by my name when you’re mad and i don’t like it.”

he sat next to you on the edge of the bed and pulled on your shoulder slightly, you fully turning around on your back and looking at him anxiously.

toge wished he could continuously beg you and ask you what was wrong so you’d just tell him— him at times sick of constantly having to pause and make you wait so he could get his point across, a painful fact that never left his mind and made him feel like the biggest burden in your life.

that’s why he never wanted to cross that line you both always seemed to lean over without meaning to. the line that’s kept you both on this limbo of half best friends and half more as he sometimes hugged you a lot longer or snuck in a couple of self indulgent cheek and hand kisses to your skin… but that’s as far as he’d really let himself get. toge didn’t want to permanently have you drag him along in your life no matter how much he wanted to be in it as something way more.

you deserved noise, you deserved loud love, you deserved someone who could actually speak to you— things he mourned over that he could never give you.

and he knew this. he’s known from the moment you walked into the coffee shop the very first time even though you swore up and down that he noticed you later, you unaware that he actually saw you right off the fucking bat on the first day and couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye— knowing you were going to be the biggest heartbreak of his life and ruin him if he so managed as to let you in when you kept coming back.

but toge was selfish, and he couldn’t help himself.

so he tried to compromise.

there’s nothing wrong with being just friends… right? a casual conversation between two people while he was at work? to then bid goodbye and say hello to every now and then?

except a quick conversation with you turned into ones that lasted almost his entire shift sometimes, and then casual meet ups turned into sleepovers at his apartment when he offered to teach you sign language, and then little hugs of farewell and hello’s turned into him kissing you practically fucking everywhere that wasn’t your mouth with the tightest embraces, him completely going against what he swore he wasn’t going to do and damning himself for life.

and even more so when you had joked about wanting a ring that one day, him actually going out the next day and buying you matching ones even though he didn’t even know if he was strong enough to actually give yours to you.

but toge was still freaking selfish.

because as you looked at him now, your gorgeous face anxious and thought-filled about things he wished you would tell him without worry, the outline and shape of your plush soft lips burning his pupils in such a way that it felt like a privilege, your body in his clothes—

made him want to speak the three worded phrase he was only allowed to say in his sleepy dreams if he was lucky.

“what toge?” you spoke softly, reaching a hand up to delicately card through the front pieces of his pale blonde hair, soft and silky as the outline of his tattooed snake eyes made you a little fuzzy.

he slowly shook his head, a far off look in his eye as he leaned over you, his face close and strained that your eyebrows pinched a little at his expression.

your hand proceeded to gently smooth down from his hair to the side of his cheek, cupping it and caressing over it with your thumb so lovingly that he nearly broke his oath.

if you said that you loved him… he wondered if he would crack. if you confessed and told him that you felt the same way, he juggled the possibility of ruining his own life by giving in and letting you take on the burden of his existence just to have you like he’s always wanted—

“i love you.” you told him.

toge’s big wide afraid eyes stared back at you as you smiled sheepishly, his breath caught in his throat.

“i—” you hesitated, playing with the hem of his shirt. “i really love you. like in the way where i want you to like— kiss me and stuff in your free time…”

he huffed a shocked breath, his face still just alarmed and strained and you started to believe that maybe you actually were delusional and misinterpreted things, his lack of anything making you second guess.

“i’m sorry.” you blurted. “i’m sorry i thought—”

and toge was still selfish as he let his lips fall down and crash against yours, moving so feverishly and hungrily that you couldn’t keep up as he dug his arms underneath you and around before pulling you up flush against his body, wanting you as close to him as humanely fucking possible incase he never got to do this again with you, the possibility horrifyingly still there.

“does this mean—” you spoke in between kisses, breathless. “does this mean you love me too—”

toge broke apart momentarily and quickly nodded, eyes ditzy and clouded as he panted against your lips, drunkenly lowering his head and linking his wet lips with yours again as he sloppily kissed you, laying you back down while you wrung your arms around his neck, you giddy and absolutely fucking enamored with him and that he was finally yours.

except he technically wasn’t… yet…

even when three full weeks had passed.

you still visited toge at work in the coffee shop in the mornings or the afternoon like you always did, ordering the same thing and going in to chat as he wrote his responses on his whiteboard— except now whenever rush hour would conclude, toge would greedily sneak in kisses with you at your table or hold the back of your hand to his cheek as you talked about your classes and your plans for the weekend, his conflicted mind putting his oath on the back burner for now as he tried to relish in the love he’s been wanting for so long.

and you were a little confused as to why toge hadn’t taken the initiative that night and asked you to be his girlfriend, but you didn’t complain, you too caught up in the moment when he would make out with you at his apartment in between study or streaming breaks with his hands literally all over you like a man starved, groping and squeezing at anything he could but never going over that last jump to do something intimate with you, your lovesick mind too in it to care at the moment.

that was the next compromise he made.

if you both just— just stayed this way. no official title no matter how much it pained him just so that he could continue doing these lovely lovely things with you whenever you both wanted, his mind thinking that since you both weren’t technically together that he wasn’t burdening you for life just yet, wanting to keep it this way for as long as he possibly could because toge didn’t fucking know what he was going to do when the time came for making it official.

well yes— he did know. but what he wanted to do and what he should do were two completely different things.

“togeee!” you bounded into the shop one morning, thankful that it was empty as you quickly leaned over the counter and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek, him smiling wide with a flush to his face in response.

‘hi mouse :) <3’ he wrote on his whiteboard. ‘have you had something to eat yet?’

“i’m good im good! wait i haven’t ate but im good!” you spoke excitedly. “i come with newwsss. really fun news!”

he hummed and nodded, motioning for you to continue as he moved around in the back to get and warm up a breakfast sandwich for you.

“one of my friends from sign language told me she’s throwing a party at her sorority house and invited meee!” you beamed, hearing a little oven ping and then following him to your usual table so the both of you could sit.

toge gently slid your sandwich over upon scooting his chair up, warm and yummy as it sat pretty on a little pastel green plate and him signing ‘eat please’ as you grinned.

“and i know you told me once that you’ve never been to a college party, so i was wondering if you wanted to maybe.. come with me?”

he smiled softly.

‘when?’ toge signed.

“tomorrow night!” you responded, taking a bite out of your breakfast sandwich.

he nodded, thinking a little in his head before sliding his whiteboard over to write.

‘of course ill go mouse but it might be better without me.’

you faltered, swallowing. “without you? why?”

he erased and wrote again.

‘because i can’t talk. your friends might think it’s a little odd.’

“no they won’t.” you countered. “and that’s totally okay, toge. just bring your whiteboard.”

he snorted, shaking his head.

‘i’m not bringing my whiteboard silly that’s even worse.’

“but you’ll be with me.” you reasoned. “and i don’t really talk to anyone at school either besides her so it’s literally just you and i hanging out.”

you wiggled your brows. “and drinkinggg ehh?”

he laughed and eventually nodded, reaching across the table and taking your hands in his as he agreed to go, caressing his fingers over your wrists.

the familiar scent of coffee beans and vanilla— a scent you’ve come to know for almost three years now wafted and swirled around through your nose comfortingly, it permanently reminding you of toge and the time that you’ve spent with him.

he let go of your wrists to write.

‘how was sign language yesterday? are you still good?’

you swallowed the bite you were chewing on and held back a grimace.

“oh i’m doing horrendously again… but it’s all good! ignorance is bliss and i’m choosing hardcore ignorance right now.”

toge’s jaw dropped before he laughed in disbelief and picked up his marker.

‘you’re sleeping over at my place again so i can help you no exceptions sorry about it :p’

you giggled and nodded— saluting him, a mannerism you picked up on from him as he smiled brightly.

“but i do know this!” you exclaimed excitedly as you pressed the bases of your palms together and rubbed, signing the word ‘cheese’— your favorite.

toge laughed cutely and signed the same word back, unable to do much else as the doors chimed to the shop then and a group of students came in, toge’s chair scraping against the floor as he stood before giving you a quick kiss and a ruffle to your hair, his whiteboard in hand as he started making his way to the back.

‘i love you.’ he signed and you bit your bottom lip in a smile, your heart swelling obnoxiously as you watched him shuffle on and tap a few things into the register, nodding along to the groups order as you soon after gathered your things for your afternoon class.

and that night after toge taught you a little more sign language and helped you work on the things you were struggling with, you fell asleep rather earlier than usual on his bed— him reaching for one of his fluffy blankets and draping it over your sleeping gorgeous self and staring, slowly leaning down and pressing the softest kiss ever to your little warm cheek— his chest twisting and contorting with the desire to just fucking give in and stop his stupid ridiculous suffering, to just be selfish one last time and ask you to be his.

and maybe he could.

maybe toge could allow himself this one tiny thing— the most important pretty thing of all, he felt.

just once.

“toge?” you murmured sleepily, eyes pinching a little as you lazily reached out for him.

but what if you grew tired of him? of the silence?

he delicately took your outstretched hand and hummed in question.

“come sleep.” you mumbled. “with me.”

his eyes softened, the corners of his mouth curving as he carefully tapped his index finger against your cheek repeatedly, you straining your eyes open.

‘look under your pillow.’ he signed.

your groggy eyes narrowed in confusion, barely making out what he was signing in the dark but catching key words.

“under my pillow?”

he nodded, pointing.

you breathed in and propped yourself up on your elbow, lifting the pillow you were laying on and suddenly snapping the fuck awake.

a ring.

you shot up, sitting up fully as you looked at him.

he stood and reached over for his whiteboard and marker, uncapping it and writing for a moment before flipping it around and showing you.

‘i got us matching bestest mestest friends but also in love at the same time rings :]’

you picked it up, a dainty thin silver banned ring with a milky white heart in the middle, iridescent as it glowed against the moonlight streaming through his open window.

“toge—” you breathed out. “you actually… you actually got me a ring?”

he wrote, a sly little grin on his face.

‘the tooth fairy did mouse.’

you giggled then, a vibrant pink glow to your cheeks and still a little shocked as he took the jewelry piece from you and gently grabbed your hand, sliding it over your ring finger smoothly, his ring finger already having his shiny silver band on.

he put your hand down and grabbed his whiteboard again.

‘that ring is me promising to help you and love you and kiss you until i die.’ he wrote. ‘okay?’

you quickly nodded, absolutely cheesed as you threw your arms around his neck and pulled toge in— feeling so so happy and fresh and loved, like everything was officially falling into place after nearly three years of semi crossing lines and stolen glances and unanswered questions about what exactly you both were for the longest.

your pretty pretty face had toge in a daze as you looked at him like he carried the world on his shoulders, his mouth slowly coming closer and closer to yours before softly pressing against them— slow and tender as you tugged him down to you by his shirt until he climbed in and was in between your thighs.

each kiss exchange was sensual and a mouthful as you helped toge tug his shirt off over his head, your palms running over his bare skinned chest and back as he deepened his kisses, your hands quickly pulling your shirt off and his eyes bulging at the sight of your puffy tits snug and pretty in your bra.

you were desperate for him and didn’t even have to think twice about something like this as you reached and tugged a little at his jeans, signaling him to take them the fuck off—

‘baby.’ he signed shakily, not even sure why he was asking since he doesn’t think at this point he could stop, but needing to check in with you first. ‘are you sure?’

“fuck yeah i’m sure.” you whispered quickly and unzipped his pants, toge smiling big as he kicked his pants and everything else off, carefully helping you do the same until you were bare and vulnerable in front of him.

toge moved to place a hand on your thigh and you squeaked, suddenly bashful as you shyly covered your arms over your chest and squeezed your thighs together.

he leaned down and placed gentle soft kisses on your cheeks, patting a comforting hand over your head.

‘it’s okay mouse. you’re okay.’ he signed.

you nodded, comfort washing over you as you slowly let your thighs spread and your arms reveal you, his spit catching in his throat at the sight of your gorgeous fucking body beneath him, his dick embarrassingly already leaking a little bit of cum as you watched him pump it a few times.

‘you’re beautiful.’ he signed, and you blushed.

he drooled some spit over his fingers and slid it gently in between your folds, your bottom lip coming in between your teeth as you tried to hold back your moans, his digits prepping you while slipping through your hole deeming it fucking hard as he was completely lost in it, unaware of the way he was riling you up and already building up that familiar sensation in the pit of your tummy.

“t—toge—” your pussy clenched at the way he was fucking you with his fingers, keeping your thighs apart with his other arm as he was completely drowned in the gushy sticky sounds of your hole.

“you’re gonna make me cum and i—” you panted, cute whines slipping from your lips as he looked up at you. “—i wanna cum when you’re inside—”

his cock spasmed and a drop of cum drooped out at your yummy plea, his breathing trembling as he quickly nodded and squeezed your thigh endearingly, slowly slipping his fingers out and stuffing them into his mouth to suck your juices as he pumped his cock while lining it up with your hole.

toge sunk in his dick then, the both of you groaning at the way he filled you up so fucking nice and stretched you, your pussy literally grabbing his cock and sucking him inside easily as you gripped his shoulders tight.

“mmm!—” you whimpered, toge now slowly pumping his cock inside of you as he leaned over and propped himself up by his arms, hips tenderly and deliciously rolling in as he panted and softly whined in your ear.

you were so god damn tight, his throat literally closing at the lock you had around him as he fucked you slow and breathless, one of his hands coming down to grip your waist to try and keep himself grounded and from snapping his hips into yours brutally— him wanting to make love to you and not do that just yet.

toge ducked his head down and licked over a perky tit, your breath hitching and subconsciously spreading your legs wider as he closed his lips around your nipple— suckling and laying a flat tattooed tongue over it as you moaned.

“faster—” pant! “faster please baby—”

with a mouthful of your tit he snapped his hips up, you choking as he started going a lot quicker than you anticipated as your hand flew to your mouth to keep your moans in, your tits bouncing with every fuck.

“oh my god oh my god—”

toge suddenly pulled out and threw you over, tummy to the bed as he hauled your ass up and lined himself at your entrance again, wasting no time in pushing in and screwing you in the same pace he had before.

but this new position was an absolute delicacy as you drooled over his sheets at the way he rammed his cock, the recoil of your ass sending a shiver up his spine and roughly gripping your hips and ass in anyway he could, you screaming and whining into his pillow as a series of slaps to your ass cheeks from him echoed through his little studio.

toge was about to dump the biggest fucking load in you that it was embarrassing.

you reached a hand behind you and he quickly grabbed it, his thumb running over your skin soothingly as he pistoned roughly into your cunt, him groaning and whimpering over the squelching and leaking of your hole as he felt his dick harden— his cum on the brink of release.

“fuck fuck fuck—” you hiccuped into his pillow. “baby i’m gonna cum i’m gonna cum hah!—”

he gripped your hand harder and leaned down over you, rutting into your pussy as he heaved and pressed his lips up against your ear, choking out the word ‘cum’ so softly that it bypassed the confines of his situation, your eyes squeezing shut as the hardest fucking orgasm you had ever had in your life hit you like brick.

you felt toge’s hips snap up and still as his hot milky cum spilled through your walls with a grunt, gooey and slimy as it filled you up and left you squirming at the weight of it.

his breath fanned against your hair as he tried to calm it, his hand moving soothingly up and down your back as you weakly tried to gain back some consciousness, the both of you sweaty and spent with his softening dick sliding out slowly.

toge carefully nudged you back over and kissed you tenderly, his hands traveling from your back over to your tummy and smoothly caressing every part of you down to the sides of your thighs, eyes swelling in utter worship over you as he leaned back to look at you.

‘i love you baby.’ he signed, and you beamed.

and just as toge had finally decided to ask you to be his girlfriend then, to officially let go of the fears he had and let himself have you— there in your arms as you peppered sweet cute kisses all over his face and over his tattooed markings on the corners of his mouth, pulling him further in to rest and sleep?

toge had a horrendous day the following morning that threw it all away.

horrendous.

it started in the morning when he left your sleeping figure quietly with a kiss to your head for his shift at work that day, excited and in a never ending state of bliss from the night before as he drove to the shop.

except he had forgotten his whiteboard at home.

toge had realized when he was already fucking halfway into the drive, a full fledged twenty five minute one that he didn’t have time to go back and repeat as he pulled up to the parking lot— cursing himself for being such a dumbass and wondering how the fuck he was gonna answer specific questions from customers, especially since he was the only one really working today.

he figured he should be fine… right? usually the people that come in already know what to get and they just read it out to him.

but there’s always a few every single day without fail that ask questions toge needed his whiteboard for. and you didn’t have class that day— so the means of you coming down there were for nothing, at least not until the party later that night.

and he didn’t want to ask anything of you…

but he really needed it.

(toge :D): hi pretty mouseee i know you’re asleep i’m sorry but is there anyway you could come to the shop when you wake up and drop off my whiteboard please? i left it on the desk like a stupid fucking idiot EL OH EL

“inumaki.”

toge froze on his walk to open the shop and looked up from his phone, eyes blowing wide.

there his manager stood, who was also the owner of the coffee shop itself, a stern look on his face with crossed arms as they both stood in front of a shattered door and windows, shards of glass twinkling on the floor.

“did you lock up last night?”

toge nodded, eyebrows furrowed as he scanned the ground.

“everything?”

he went to nod again, but stopped.

he did… he did truly he did—

…oh.

he forgot to lock up and cash in the register.

toge quickly stepped over the glass and swung open the shattered door and over to the front counter, sure enough finding the register wide open and battered with not a single fucking penny left inside.

he groaned, his hands shooting up and digging the bases of his palms into his eyes as he leaned back, lips in a thin line at how utterly fucking stupid he was for forgetting to lock up the register and take in the money— the number one thing he was always supposed to do.

“what happened?” his manager asked, hands out. “have you been not locking it up?”

toge scrambled for his phone and pulled it from his back pocket, the thought of his job literally on the line because of this sending him for a fucking ride.

‘i always lock it up, honestly.’ he typed and showed his phone. ‘but i stupidly forgot last night and i can’t express enough to you how sorry i am.’

his manager sighed deeply and dropped his hands, looking over at the open register.

“you’ve consistently been one of my best.” he spoke. “but a mistake like this isn’t something small like forgetting to properly close and wipe down everything or put up the chairs.”

toge nodded understandingly, arms tightly crossed over his chest as he shamefully looked to the side, feeling like the biggest pathetic loser for doing something like this that could’ve been entirely avoided if he just did his damn job correctly.

“it’s alright.” his manager reached and patted a heavy hand to his shoulder. “it happens. it’s just unfortunate that we got broken into right when it did.”

toge looked at him.

“we can’t open today because there’s glass everywhere… so if you can stay and call up the insurance for the shop—” he pointed to the wall, their number amongst others typed and labeled. “—and file an insurance claim in any way you can for me that’d be great. i’m gonna go down to the police station and report.”

toge quickly nodded, typing again on his phone before showing him.

‘okay sounds good. i’m really really sorry and this won’t happen again.’

his manager waved him off with a smile. “don’t sweat, inumaki. i’m pretty sure i did this too when i was working except it was my works safe and not the register…”

softly chuckling, toge nodded once more and gave his manager a tiny wave as he patted his shoulder again before stepping around the glass, leaving.

regardless of being lucky enough to have such an understanding boss, toge still felt like complete and utter shit as he stood behind the counter slumped over after, on hold with the insurance company for thirty minutes now as he stared at the broken shards and the register.

you had gotten toge’s text the minute you woke up and quickly got up to get ready, not even bothering to change into anything different as you left with his pajamas on you and his little whiteboard, hopping into your car and speeding off knowing how much he needed it for work sometimes.

and when you pulled into the shops parking lot, confusedly already noticing scattered glass on the concrete walking up, you froze in front of the coffee shop upon seeing the windows and doors completely shattered— toge propping his forehead up with his palm on the counter solemnly.

“toge?”

he looked up.

“what happened?”

his shoulders dropped in relief and he slowly came around the counter, opening his arms a little and pulling you in as he buried his face into your hair, sighing.

you hugged him back. “are you okay? did this happen right now?”

he shook his head and stepped back, taking the whiteboard from you.

‘someone broke into the shop last night. but i forgot to lock up the register and cash in the money so they stole that too.’

“oh my god!” you gasped, hands flying over your mouth. “fuucckkkk was your manager mad? don’t tell me he fired you—”

toge erased and wrote before flipping the board over.

‘no just disappointed. but i still feel like such a fucking moron for forgetting and i hate that i did.’

“toge..” you sighed sadly, running your hands over his upper arms. “it’s okay you’re human baby. these things happen so don’t feel like that please..”

he nodded a little before ducking down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

you smiled and looked around.

“seeing the shop like this is nuts.”

he hummed in agreement.

toge stuck around for a little while, you next to him behind the counter still waiting on hold with the insurance company, feeling awfully bad for keeping you here when he knew you wanted to go shopping for a dress for the party, but him stupidly forgetting again that he couldn’t speak— too caught up in trying to make it up to his manager for his fuck up to think about how exactly he was going to talk to the insurance company on the other line, you demanding to help him.

sometime down the line when the insurance claim was filed, toge’s manager told him that if he wanted to open up the shop for the day he could, and to just sweep up the glass a little from the ground and fix up the place a little so it didn’t look like they just got robbed.

and because toge was still in his self dreaded state of guilt and shame over what happened, he immediately agreed to, trying to make up for his mistake and see if he could double the shop’s earnings for today.

“i could stay toge let me stay.” you pushed, but he only shook his head and sent you off to do the things he knew you needed to do with a pat on the head and a kiss on the cheek, telling you he’d see you at his place to get ready for the party.

but maybe toge was better off telling his manager a bit fat no and going home with you, because it was like everybody that came into the shop following that had eaten a big bag of dicks and salvaged the biggest fucking attitudes out of it to spit back in his face.

no one was understanding him. no one. not a single soul. even when he used his whiteboard to explain everything that certain customers needed, for some reason the extra effort of them having to just read putting them off and yelling and making toge’s shift a living hell.

and it’s not like he’s never managed shifts on his own either— never having an issue and still putting in and preparing orders efficiently like he was supposed to, but he figured the debacle from this morning was setting him off since he couldn’t do anything right at the moment, the attitude he was getting from literally every single fucking customer leaving him wishing he at least had one more person on the floor with him.

but toge was still blaming himself.

why couldn’t anyone understand him? why couldn’t he just speak? his life would be so much easier if he could… and you would’ve been his a long time ago.

so as toge sat there tiredly after work with his eyes closed on a stool next to you in his bathroom, you applying the finishing touches to your hair and makeup— you could practically feel toge’s exhaustion, frustration, and sadness seeping into your skin and insides over the shift he told you he had, your eyebrows pinching anxiously.

“we don’t have to go baby…” you murmured, looking down and playing with the rings on your fingers. “i would much rather stay here with you so you can relax for a little…”

he slowly peeled his eyes open, the sight of you standing there in front of him— so fucking beautiful in your dress and heels and dolled up in the way that you were, made his cheeks buzz pink as he slumped forward and mushed his cheek up against your tummy, wrapping his arms around you and shaking his head.

“are you sure?” you asked gently, running your fingers over his soft hair. “i don’t mind what we do toge… as long as with you i’m okay.”

his heart jumped as he looked up and gave you a cute smile, nodding.

you’d decided to meet in the middle and just go home early so toge could have enough rest for his shift tomorrow, him driving you both to the sorority house and parking a bit down the street amongst dozens of other cars, a little nervous and apprehensive and wondering what he was gonna do if any of your friends came up to talk to him— but the desire to make you happy and accompany you to something that you were so excited for far, far greater.

the night went smoothly for the most part, you in no time at all spotting your friend that initially invited you through the crowd along with some of your other friends that you had no idea were coming in the first place, introducing toge to each one and him giving a small smile and wave in response as he interlaced your fingers and gladly let you lead him to wherever you wanted through the dark and blue lit house, taking sips occasionally of the tequila orange liquor mix from his red solo cup and funnily from yours too— since you had gotten a different punch like flavor that he liked better.

“y/n? i didn’t know you were coming!”

your head snapped to the voice just as you were talking to toge, your eyes widening and a huge smile spreading across your face.

“oh hey! i didn’t know you were either!” you quickly turned to toge. “he’s in my sign language class the one i told you about that teaches us how to cuss—”

your friend laughed, “you talk about me y/n? interestinggg.”

toge quirked a brow.

“not like that—” you slapped his shoulder. “i talk about you so i can build up the stamina to rat you out.”

he gasped dramatically. “says the one who bothered me last class to teach her how to sign the word cunt.”

“no i didn’t— wait actually i did.”

your friend laughed again but diverted his attention momentarily to someone pulling on his arm a bit.

toge nudged you gently and you turned.

‘i’m gonna go get a drink mouse.’ he signed.

“okay!” you nodded. “i’ll wait for you here.”

he nodded, kissing your head before leaving— the kitchen not too far from where you both were originally at as he walked and threw away the drink he had initially and scanned the counter, looking for the fruity punch one you got before spotting it and picking one up from the rows of others, the smell of alcohol filling his nostrils.

“hey sorry to bother, which flavor is that?”

toge froze and looked over, a girl standing there and pointing at his cup.

oh shit.

toge pointed to his cup.

“yeah, which flavor is that one? i’ve tried the others but not that one yet.”

oh fuck.

why couldn’t he just talk?

the girl quirked a brow at his silence, and just when she was about to say something else, someone came through the kitchen.

“i think that one’s tutti frutti but i could be wrong.”

she turned to the other person and nodded, giving toge an awkward look before walking around him to get a cup for herself.

toge covered his eyes with a hand in complete fucking mortifying embarrassment, cheeks warm as he leaned against the kitchen sink in the lowest low he had ever lowed.

or so he thought.

because the sound of your loud pretty laughter had him slowly looking up and taking his hand away, you conversing so— so openly and freely with your friend from sign language triggering a hint of jealousy and bitterness in his chest. bitter as to why he was cursed to deal with something like this, bitter over the loser that was blatantly obviously flirting with you… but jealous of him that he was able to open his mouth and speak to you in whatever words and phrases he wanted, syllables flying out without any sort of pain or blood as a paying price like he had to.

that’s what you needed… that’s what you should have. not him.

not his inevitable silence and whiteboards and constant pauses, his lack of being able to tell you how much he loved you and how much you meant to him whenever, wherever… without being tied down to a marker or a phone.

his mixup from this morning, his customers not understanding him, everybody else not understanding him, has led him to believe that someone as beautiful as you shouldn’t carry the burden of even trying to.

toge knew from the very first time you came into the coffee shop that you were going to unknowingly break his heart if he let you in because of his situation… and fuck did he let you in.

and now he had to break yours so you could find and be with what you deserved.

toge walked over to you then, head down with his jaw tight and mind fogged over as you doubled over in laughter over something your friend said.

“wait—” you gasped. “wait toge he just told me that—”

“is he your boyfriend?” you friend asked, pointing to him.

well, toge still hadn’t really asked you… but he gave you a promise ring, and you were both wearing them tonight so—

your eyes snapped to toge, who was shaking his head no.

…no?

your brows furrowed.

“oh! i thought you guys were together, my bad.”

toge twitched over the way your friend sounded relieved, but you didn’t notice a thing, still looking at him with the most gutting look that made him want to scream.

“yeah.. my bad too.” you mumbled, your friend not catching it as he then got pulled by the shoulder to a different crowd, him calling over that he would come find you later on in the night.

“no?” you repeated to him.

‘come with me outside.’ he signed before slowly walking and leading you back to the kitchen and through the backyard doors, the chilling cold night air a refreshing break from the stuffiness inside.

“if this is a joke it’s not that funny toge.” you mumbled, hugging yourself as you closed the door behind you.

he looked at you sadly.

‘you shouldn’t be with me mouse.’ he signed.

“what?” you breathed out. “what are you talking about?”

‘i can’t give you what you need.’

“what i need?”

he nodded. ‘it won’t work. you and me.’

“toge—” your chest picked up speed, tears prickling a bit at your eyes. “you’re telling me all of this yet no answers— why won’t we work.”

‘you should be with someone that can talk to you and tell you that they love you and say anything without all of this baggage—’

“wait wait slow down i can’t—” you put your hands out. “you’re signing too fast i can’t understand you—”

you couldn’t understand him.

and toge realized that the reasoning he had would be something that you would counter and fight for, and something he would more than one hundred percent give in to you winning just so he could have you again.

he needed to make you hate him so it would be easier for you to move on.

toge dropped his arms, a defeated look on his face as he shoved a hand in his pocket for his phone, typing out a message to you.

you received it on the other end, your phone illuminating your face as you opened it.

(toge :D): i realized after we confessed that this isn’t what i want anymore and im sorry

your jaw dropped, eyes narrowing as you looked up at him.

“what the fuck do you mean.”

his thumbs shook as he typed, his heart pulling and screaming at the muscles and nerves tied to them for him to stop.

(toge :D): we’re better off as just friends. i’m really sorry that i realized after the fact. you deserve someone better anyways and i just don’t think it’s with me.

you let out a sob that ripped him to shreds, hand coming over your mouth in disbelief as you stared at the blurry screen in your grasp.

he realized this after the fact? after messing around with you for almost three years? after confessing to you and saying he loves you? after being intimate?

you felt fucking used.

“you’re realizing this now?” you shook your head. “toge— you realize we’ve been flirting like this for as long as we’ve known each other and all of a sudden you’re pulling back? after you got your fucking fill? after kissing me and telling me that you love me, and— and after—”

you ran an exasperated trembling hand through your hair. “toge we had sex and you’re telling me this isn’t what you want?”

god this is everything he wants.

but toge bit his tongue, him strained all over with a locked painful jaw as you yelled at him, his eyes glossy over how much he was hurting you as he stiffly nodded.

you stepped closer, jabbing a finger to his chest. “look at me in the eyes right now and tell me if our entire fucking friendship before leading up to our bullshit confessions was all a lie. tell me right now if this—” you held your hand up, the promise ring he gave you shimmering under the fairy lights of the backyard. “—was a lie when you promised me that you would always help me and love me.”

toge breathed in and out shakily, swallowing thickly as he slowly nodded, his entire body in absolute detriment.

holy fucking shit.

how long had you been this stupid for you to not realize the kind of person he actually was?

but— but it didn’t make any sense. this wasn’t toge. this wasn’t toge at all you didn’t know who the fuck you were yelling at right now because toge would never do this to you.

“do you know why i’m learning sign language in the first place?”

toge blinked back tears, shaking his head no.

“i started taking sign language for you, asshole!” you sobbed. “when i was stupidly crushing on you at the shop before we talked for the first time, i noticed you knew sign language and i signed up for you so it’d be easier for you to communicate with me without always having to use your whiteboard.”

he felt a pang to his heart, harshly wiping his eyes.

“but even then i don’t fucking care toge! you could have absolutely nothing to talk to me with and i’d still love you and do anything for you because that’s how much i’m in love you!”

you sobbed as your shoulders shook violently, hands covering your eyes.

“glad to know the feelings not mutual.”

oh he takes it back.

he takes it all back.

toge reached for your hands and you pushed him away.

“you’re so full of shit toge.” you sniffled. “if this is what you want then fine. take this fucking—”

you slipped the ring off from your finger and threw it at him, the feeling of it thudding against his chest and clinking to the ground beneath his feet close enough to a damn bullet.

he shook his head frantically, picking up your ring and following you up the steps of the porch, grabbing your hand and pulling you back, but you only shaking it off and trudging on forward.

“mouse—” he spoke. “please stop—”

the sound of his rare voice made you freeze in place, unmoving and feeling guilt pool in your stomach at the sound of him reeling over and coughing violently as a result.

he spoke to you… but his dreaded words from earlier still lingered in your mind, betrayal etched into your chest like a tattoo.

“don’t call me that.” you mumbled over your shoulder, swinging the door open to the kitchen and slamming it shut.

toge heard nothing from you for four weeks.

even through all of the calls and texts he sent you, he started to conclude that you actually blocked his number the moment you left him that night, unable to see his actual explanation through the masses of messages he sent you and still continued to even after confirming the thought that you had blocked him.

he couldn’t believe himself. he couldn’t believe he actually hurt you and drove you away like that.

and toge had never felt so much self hatred, missing you like fucking crazy throughout those weeks— it reminding him of that one time when you first started getting to know each other where you disappeared for a week, except far far worse now that you had both built so much together over the years.

his life felt empty now that you weren’t in it.

and funnily enough, his job— something he had gotten before you, now solely reminding him of you as he tried to work without throwing something over the random flashbacks he’d have of that night, blending and serving drinks and sliding them over the pickup counter all meaningless if you weren’t there at your usual table to give him a cheeky smile and sign the word ‘cheese’ to make him laugh on the other side.

his little mouse.

and toge silently cried almost every night at his desk, him clutching your ring.

you were basically the same way as him, if not fucking lower as you were the one that was practically presumably dumped and used, you unable to sleep for hours on end in your bed and your parents wondering what the hell happened between the two of you as they tried to console your tears through your restless nights, you half in denial that this was your reality and toge was out of your life.

after some time, you realized that you had left nearly half of your things in toge’s apartment, it settling into your mind how much time you actually spent with him and not at your own house as you constantly found yourself needing things but couldn’t have them because they were over there— one of those things unfortunately being your freaking sign language textbook.

there was absolutely no way you could get it, and you opted to borrowing your friends for the longest time… but by the time you reached the beginning of the fifth week without toge, you started feeling really bad for continuously bothering your friend for her book when you could just suck it up and get yours.

so you made your jumbled mind up and reached for your phone one day after your morning class, going to toge’s contact number and unblocking him before texting.

(you): hi. sorry to bother but i left some things in your apartment that i need. i was wondering if i could come by today to get them.

toge nearly jumped out of his skin at your pretty name flashing across his phone while he was lazily and depressingly laying in bed, scrambling to type back not even a minute later.

(toge): yes of course

(toge): i’m home right now if you want to come

(toge): and you’re never a bother

you pursed your lips, a lump building in your throat.

(you): okay. i’ll be there in a few minutes.

toge flung his scattered clothing inside his closet or literally anywhere that was out of eyesight, trying to turn his rut of a room back to how it looked like when you were always here, shaking out a big garbage bag and throwing all of his trash in there (along with all of the cake pop, cheese danish, and blueberry scone wrappers…), opening the blinds and straightening out his sheets.

you pulled into his apartment complex parking lot and parked not too long after, your hands drenched in sweat and your body rigid as you came up to his floor and over to his apartment number, knocking even though you had the key.

you almost turned back to leave once you heard his padded footsteps, but decided against is as he was already opening the door.

and my god, seeing him hurt a lot more than you thought it would.

his eyes were soft as they looked at you, and red like yours, him quickly stepping to the side to let you in and you doing so with your head down, not saying a single word.

“i think—” you shakily spoke, eyes already watering as he closed his door with a click. “i think i’m just gonna get my sign language textbook for now i’ll come back some other time for the rest—”

you felt a little tug at your hand, and you turned, his shoulders slumping at your teary eyes, stray droplets slipping down your cheeks already.

‘please don’t cry.’ he signed. ‘i’m so sorry for everything.’

you snorted, shaking your head as you reached behind you to get your textbook.

“sorry for stringing me along and using every part of me until you were bored? sure.”

he frantically shook his head no, panic rising in his chest as he watched you step around him and head for the door.

he couldn’t let you leave.

because he had a feeling if he did, he actually would never see you again.

toge quickly grabbed your wrist and tugged you back around.

“what toge—”

‘stay for a bit.’ he shakily signed. ‘please just stay and let me explain.’

you followed his signage, and your eyes narrowed. “explain what? there’s nothing to explain—”

toge swiped his phone from his bed and opened it, going to your contact to type out a message.

you hesitantly pulled yours out and waited, your phone vibrating against your hand once he sent it over.

(toge): i lied about absolutely everything i said that night. i don’t think any of those things at all. i’ve wanted you so fucking bad from the start y/n, i’ve been ready to be with you i don’t think for a second we’re better off as friends i want more with you always and for the rest of my life.

what?

he sent another message.

(toge): i said what i said because throughout our friendship i told myself like a fucking idiot that i couldn’t let you all the way in because i can’t talk. i kept thinking that you needed someone who you can talk to you whenever you want without having to always step back and read or write like you have to with me. i didn’t want you to carry that baggage and deal with me and i just felt like a burden, and i love you so fucking much that i wanted better for you.

you sniffled and wiped your cheeks, you rubbing away lonesome tears that landed on your phone screen.

(toge): but i’m selfish baby i’ve BEEN selfish. i said those horrible things to you so it’d be easier for you to move on and im so sorry. none of them are true. i don’t want you to move on from me. i didn’t use you i could never and that night we had sex was the most meaningful experience of my life. i love you more than anything in my life, and im gonna be selfish again and please ask you to come back to me. you’re my best friend and more, and i still believe that you need someone better and that can give you more than i can, but i just can’t let you go man i’ve been physically sick for four weeks without you.

you cried still and he typed again.

(toge): i’m selfish and i’m in love with you mouse. i’m sorry.

“toge!” you cried and chucked your phone to his bed, flinging your arms around his neck and pulling him in a tight embrace— the weight completely lifting off both of your shoulders at the feeling of your bodies pressed against each others like a perfect little key in a lock, toge hugging you back so so fucking tight with his face in your neck that he practically squeezed the air out of your lungs entirely.

“i love you.” he spoke, his words incredibly powerful in your ear even though it couldn’t have been more than a mere whisper, the sound and depth of his voice ringing through your head and one you wanted to remember forever and ever, feeling so incredibly loved over the fact that he’d use his voice for you even when it hurt him so much.

but he really didn’t need to. you just wanted him.

and you’ve never been so happy to hear someone tell you that they lied.

toge pulled back a bit and turned his head to the side, stuffing his mouth into the crook of his elbow and coughing.

you pressed your cheek against his once he was done, kissing it a few times beforehand and him closing his eyes at the feeling of your lips on his skin after so long.

“you okay?” you murmured softly, and he nodded.

“i love you too, toge.” you tightened your arms around his neck. “please don’t ever think that you’re a burden or giving me baggage to carry. i’ve never ever felt that way and neither should you.”

you stepped back and cupped his cheeks.

“i need you, baby. i don’t need anything or anyone else but you. someone that has the ability to talk can’t give me even ten percent of what you’ve been giving me. i’m happy with you. the happiest i’ve ever been is when i’m with you… okay?”

toge grinned, huge and shiny as he nodded and leaned forward and captured your lips in a kiss— the both of you utterly deprived as your mouths smacked and moved in haste, his hands running and squeezing over your body with labored breathing between the two of you.

he pulled apart for a second and you stopped.

“what baby?” you breathed, watching as he raised his arms.

‘please be my girlfriend mouse.’ he signed. ‘or i’ll die.’

you giggled cutely and a blush rose on both of your sore cheeks from smiling so much, you happily nodding and roughly pulling him back in to continue.

and how lucky was toge to have such a sweet little mouse that cared for him this much? for someone who couldn’t even speak? who had the greatest level of patience and not once ever complained about the burden she had to carry?

you learned sign language for him. solely for him. the reasons he was thinking about how he’d be baggage to you, was amazingly the total opposite on your end, as you didn’t want to be baggage to him when it came down to communication with you— as if something like that were ever even possible.

and you learned sign language for him— a totally beautiful and different and complex language that was iterated through the feeling of arms and body, to be read across with purposeful moving hands and symbols and diligent fingers— somehow looking even more beautiful when it was you that was doing it.

silence was toge’s greatest form of love… one that you received with open arms and acceptance without a twinge of judgement in your heart, and one that toge only ever wanted you to receive.

you.

his little mouse.

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

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[not-neverland06]

we're dating? ♡

logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've decided using the same X-men name/powers for the reader in my Logan fics is easier because coming up with superpowers is hard and stupid. They call you flux, like once, it's really just a nickname incoming warning for fluff so bad you'll get a cavity Summary: You're on probation from the team and official house arrest after a little accident with your powers. Logan knows you're going stir-crazy so he takes you to the arcade for some fun. And then your friendship takes a weird turn. (80's timeline in mind, but characters not from the 80’s will be mentioned) Clueless!reader

You’d had an accident, a few weeks ago. Well, accident might be downplaying it too much. You’d destroyed the garden and left a ten-foot crater in the backyard of Charles’ prestigious grounds. In your defense, you had warned them all that it wasn’t a good idea to take your cuffs off. 

The metal bands are entirely necessary to make sure you can’t lose control and wipe out everything around you. Manipulation at an atomic level is beyond fatal. You don’t want to think about what would have happened if you’d had the meltdown and the kids were anywhere near you. 

Charles had been able to shut you down, but now he’s keeping you on probation. You’ve been locked up in the mansion, unable to leave until you managed to get your abilities under control. There’s never been a problem with wearing the cuffs before. You don’t understand why he’s so against them now. 

You’re going stir-crazy. There’s only so many times you can pace your room before you start to lose your mind. He’s not even letting you teach classes anymore. You’re stuck training, all day, every day. 

“Focus!” Charles snaps and you resist the urge to turn his bones liquid. Maybe that would get him off your back. 

Instead of killing your friend, you glare at the large tank of water in front of you. You do what you’ve been doing for the past half hour. It fluctuates from liquid to gas to solid, and then liquid again. An endless cycle of repetition that makes you want to melt your brain so you don’t have to do this anymore. 

You drop your hand and huff. “This is pointless, Charles. What’s this even teaching me?”

He crosses his arms, walks over to you, and pointedly glares at the tank in front of you. You roll your eyes and look back at it. “Shit,” you hiss. In your frustration, the glass has cracked and splintered into dust. Water pools around your stool and leaks through the wood of the floor. You flick your wrist, the glass swirling around you before reforming into the tank. The water follows along, droplets lifting from the floor and dropping back into the container. 

“One moment of frustration, of distraction. That’s all it took.” Charles shakes his head and walks back over to his desk. He picks the cuffs up and you slip them silently back onto your wrists. “How can you be trusted to protect your team on the field if you can’t control this? What are you going to do when you’re panicked and fighting for your life?”

Shame bubbles in your gut. It makes you nauseous and forces your eyes to the floor so you don’t have to face him. He sighs, placing his hands on your shoulders and squeezing gently. You glance up at him briefly and he offers a strained smile. 

“This is for your protection, as much as you hate it, Flux. It’s necessary.” You scoff at the use of your X-Men name. Not much of an X-Man if you’re not even on the field anymore. 

“Right,” you mutter. “Thanks for the lesson in incompetency,” you don’t let him respond and slam the door to his office closed behind you. You feel bad the second you get outside and onto the porch. He doesn’t deserve your bitchiness. It’s your own fault you can’t get a handle on this. You don't have anyone to blame but yourself. 

You let out a dramatic sigh, throwing yourself into a rocking chair and running your hands over your face. The once comforting weight of your cuffs is now oppressing. It just feels like a constant reminder of your failure. You should already have a handle on all of this, but you struggle to even manipulate water. 

“Rough day?” You don’t open your eyes as Logan walks by. He takes a seat on the rocking chair beside you, letting out a low groan as he stretches. 

You let your hands drop into your lap, staring at the sunset so you don’t have to face him. You’ve already dealt with enough dejection today. You don’t need to look at him and be reminded that you want him in a way you can never have. 

“Mhm,” you hum, propping your head in your hand as you watch the sun disappear behind the clouds. The sky is painted in hues of pink and orange that seem too hopeful for how you feel right now. 

Logan chuckles, the sound low and gravely. It makes your heart stutter in your chest and you cringe in embarrassment. You know he can hear the way your heart practically beats free of your ribs when you’re around him. You’re sure with that nose of his he can smell some sort of hormonal change in you every time you lay eyes on him. 

You swear you’ve never felt this way about a man before. You haven’t had many boyfriends before, it’s not really common among mutants. Not many people are accepting of you when they know what you are. And some people are too into you. 

But you've had crushes, and none of them have been as bad as this one is. You want to gnaw on him. It sounds fucking insane every time you think about it. But when you train with him and he tears his shirt off, you want to sink your teeth into him and never let go. 

You feel feral around him, a side of you surfacing that you’re not used to. Maybe it’s because of his mutant abilities. They are very animalistic, it’s easy to blame that on how desperately you crave him. 

You hate being around him and despise not being in his presence. It’s conflicting, and more often than not you sound like a bumbling idiot when you speak to him because your brain is going in a million different directions. 

You hear the familiar click of his lighter and then he shifts again. You risk a peek over at him and regret it the second you do. His head is tilted back, eyes closed in relaxation as he stretches across the porch. Smoke leaks out of his lips as he groans in satisfaction. 

You have to pick your jaw up off the floor and make sure there isn’t drool on your chin. This is insane. You’re a grown woman, how does he have this much of an effect on you? He’s not even doing anything! He’s just sitting there and you want to jump his bones. 

You whip your head around, mumbling incoherently to yourself to get it together. Logan peaks an eye open and you miss the mischievous tilt to his lips. “Something wrong?”

I need to have sex with you or I’m going to explode. 

You stutter for a few seconds, getting your mind back together. “Just training with Charles,” you mutter. 

He sits up a little straighter and quirks a brow. When you don’t continue he sighs. “And?” He prods, impatient for your answer. You hope you’re not reading into it, but you think he’s been as disappointed by your absence from the team as you are. He always complains about being partnered up with Scott. You like to think it’s because he misses you. But you’re probably just delusional. 

“And, nothing,” you sigh. Your hands flop against your legs and you glare at the bands on your wrists. “No progress. I still can’t control them without these on, and my abilities are watered down and useless with the cuffs.”

Logan huffs, you’re caught off guard by the sudden warmth on your thigh. You glance down, eyes widening ever so slightly when you see his hand on your leg. It nearly covers the whole thing and when he squeezes your thigh you think you’re going to pass out. 

You’re friendly. But you’ve never been touchy. At least not like this. The placement of his palm is very intimate and you are struggling not to just get on your knees and profess your undying love. You take in a deep breath, looking up at him so you can get your heartbeat under control. 

But looking at him just makes it worse. Because there is so much faith and fondness in his gaze as he looks at you. His lips are tilted up, eyes soft, and you’ve never had someone make you feel so warm and secure from just a look. 

“You aren’t useless,” he tells you. He squeezes your thigh again before he retreats back to his chair. You have to clamp your jaw shut so you don’t beg him to keep touching you and never stop. “You’re just stuck in this house all day. You’ve got nothing to do but sit in your failure.”

You scoff and throw yourself back in your seat. “Don’t remind me. I’ve begged Charles to let me out.” Your gaze drifts to the crater in the backyard. Some of the kids have been working on filling it in, but whatever energy you’d let go of has left a permanent mark. “He refuses to give me permission.”

Logan laughs, the noise teasing and a little mean. Your brows furrow and you glance over at him with a questioning look. He tilts his head in disbelief like you’re an idiot. “Seriously, Flux? Just fuckin’ leave, who gives a shit?”

“Uh,” you think on it for a minute before weakly settling on, “Charles?”

His face falls and you sink lower into your seat. He looks out at the yard, gaze distant. His jaw clenches a few times before he puts the cigar out on the ashtray beside him. He gets to his feet and you think he might just leave. Instead, he turns towards you. 

You’re caught off guard by the little smirk on his face. “Wanna have some fun?”

Only an idiot would say no. 

You grin and place your hand in his, yelping slightly at how easily he pulls you to your feet. You stumble into his chest and are hesitant to back away when his hand drifts to rest on your waist. He looks down at you, smiling, he squeezes your waist once before he backs up. 

“Come on, kid.” He tugs you inside the house, leading you downstairs to the garage. You already know what he’s going for before the door is even open. 

“Didn’t Scott tell you to leave his bike alone?” Logan takes a step inside. He pauses, glancing over his shoulder and grinning at you. It makes your breath catch in your throat, the happiness on his face. You never see him like this around the others. 

You hate thinking like that. Placing too much importance on your relationship with him will only lead to heartbreak down the road. But, you never see him act the way he does with you with anyone else.

“Since when have I ever listened to Cyclops, sweetheart?” 

“Good point,” you mutter, moving to stand next to him. 

He straddles the seat and looks over expectantly at you. “Don’t you need a helmet?”

You shake your head, “Oh, no, it’ll ruin my hair.” You laugh but he gives you a deadpan look. You don’t regenerate the way he does. An accident would be a lot more fatal for you than it would be for him. You huff, “Relax, Lo, I can use my powers.” When he looks like he’s not going to drop it, you let some energy swirl around your fingers. It solidifies the air around your skin, you reach up and flick at his skull hard enough to hear the metal ding. 

He grunts, glaring down at your hand while you grin. “See,” you whisper, sliding onto the back of the bike and wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m perfectly safe.” He shakes his head and starts the bike. 

The ride to the arcade is spent in silence. Logan always seems to break every speeding law known to man whenever he takes Scott’s bike out. You’re not sure if he does it to purposefully piss the man off, but it makes you cling to him like a wild animal. You feel like if you hit one speed bump you’re going to go flying. 

By the time he parks your legs feel like jello. He laughs a little at the way your face has blanched. Again, he offers you a hand and holds the door open to lead you inside. You’re trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but this whole thing is odd. 

You guys are friends. And you’re friendlier with each other than most of the mutants in the school. But this feels different somehow. For one, Logan kind of despises the arcade. It’s an amalgamation of bad smells and loud noises, and it overwhelms his already sensitive senses. You’ve heard him complain about the smell of body odor and fake cheese enough times when you went on a field trip with the kids. 

Secondly, he’s being more touchy than he normally would. You’re not complaining. You weren’t exactly hugged a lot as a kid, mainly just passed between different mutant fetish clubs. Logan isn’t known for handing hugs out so easily. But right now, he doesn’t seem to be ready to not have at least one hand on you. 

Maybe he’s just cheering you up. You need to stop drifting so far into your mind and just enjoy the night. “Alright, what’s first bub?”

You grin and drag him towards the claw machine. “I’m horrible at these things,” you inform him as you put your quarters in. “But, I hold out hope that one day I’ll be able to actually beat this monster.”

Three failed attempts later, it’s become embarrassingly clear that you will never beat the claw machine. Logan isn’t even trying to hide his amusement as you become increasingly more frustrated. There’s a certain point where this game stops being fun and starts to be an affront to your character. 

Logan peers into the machine and asks, “What are you going for?”

“The pigeon,” you mutter. Your tongue pokes between your lips, and your eyes narrow in concentration. You aim the claw over the pigeon perfectly and slam your hand down on the big red button. 

You’re allowed five seconds of celebration before the damn thing slips out of the claws grasp and tumbles into the pile of stuffies below. “Dammit, Bart,” you let the ridiculous name you’ve come up with for the toy slip.

Logan snorts, leaning against the glass while you jam another quarter in the slot. “Bart?” He teases. 

You shake your head and give him a look out the side of your eye. “What, you think I call myself Flux because I’m good at coming up with names?” You give up after the last failed attempt and turn to face him with a huff. 

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Tough luck, kid.” He slings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you towards the concession stand. 

“Shut up,” you laugh, slapping lightly at his chest. 

The rest of the night is nice. He doesn’t play much except for the strength-oriented games. And then you kind of just exploit him for more tickets. By the time you get back to the mansion, you’ve forgotten all about why you were upset in the first place. 

Nothing had gone wrong, you didn’t have a total meltdown and wipe out the entire arcade. You don’t know why Charles was so afraid of letting you out. 

Logan walks you back to your room, his hand heavy on your lower back as you head up the stairs. You’re talking endlessly, filling up any gap of silence with rambling you’ve lost track of. You don’t know what it is about him that invites you to yap the way you do, but you’re always embarrassed by it the second he leaves. 

You reach your door and smile up at him. “Thanks, Lo.”

He gives you a soft smile, his eyes wrinkling endearingly at the corners. He reaches up and brushes some hair off your shoulder. There’s a certain shift in his expression that has your breath stopping short. Whatever else you were going to say to him tumbles off into an incomprehensible whisper. 

He leans down and every inappropriate thought you’ve ever had about him suddenly surges to the front of your mind. Your lips part in anticipation, thinking he’s going to kiss you and your fantasies are going to come to life. 

His lips brush against your cheek so gently you almost don’t feel them. “‘Night Flux,” he leans back and your body goes with him. He backs off with a smile, walking down the hall to his own room. You feel dazed, eyelashes fluttering rapidly as you fan your cheeks and try to come to terms with what just happened.

He didn’t kiss you, but you oddly aren’t disappointed. You go to bed that night with a lovesick grin on your face. Well, you would have. Were it not for the annoyingly British voice ringing out in your head, “Training’s at four tomorrow morning. Consider it your punishment for sneaking out.”

“Fuck,” you hiss to yourself. Stupid fucking telepaths. 

You thought the arcade was a one-off moment. But Logan keeps sneaking you out of the mansion. Charles hasn’t officially lifted the house arrest, but he’s given up trying to keep you inside. Besides, you’ve essentially got a chaperone since Logan is always with you. 

You make lunch for the two of you and he’ll take you out to the woods for a picnic. Or you’ll go to the movies together. Sometimes you don’t even do anything, just linger around each other. You enjoy the company, and you love having these quiet moments together with no one else around. 

Your favorite part of all of this has to be the way he’s started touching you. He’s always got a hand on your leg or back. And if he can’t do that, then you’re tucked into his side. It’s feeding into a starved part of you that you’ve left neglected for far too long. 

It’s only been about two weeks of these fun little adventures and odd behavior. You’re dreading the moment they’ll stop. You’re not sure when Logan’s going to deem you properly cheered up, but you’re hoping it’s not anytime soon. 

There have been a few more moments where you think your friendship might turn into something more, and every time you’ve been interrupted. You’re actually starting to feel a little edged. You’ve been considering just grabbing him and planting one on him. But every time you think about it you get sick to your stomach. 

You don’t want to make a move on him and end up getting rejected. You know he’s just being a good friend and taking care of you so you don’t end up spiraling too far in your head. It’s happened before, when you’ve been struggling with your abilities. He’s just keeping you from shutting down again and you don��t want to make him uncomfortable because you’re hopelessly in love. 

When you walk out of your room this morning you’re immediately smacked in the face. “What the fuck, guys?” You yell at the two kids running past your room. Not the best language for someone who's supposed to be a role model. You can’t be bothered though, not when they’re running around throwing pink rolls of streamer at your face. 

“Sorry!” Mary calls over her shoulder, laughing as she pins a heart up onto the wall. You’re sure Charles won’t appreciate the hole in his old ass mahogany wood. It’s only as you watch her run down the stairs that you register just what is going on. 

There is pink and red everywhere. It looks like Dollar Store Cupid has thrown up all over the mansion. You’ve been so caught up in your attraction to Logan that, ironically, you’ve forgotten what month it was. 

You grumble bitterly to yourself as you trudge down the stairs. Another Valentine’s Day alone and single. How lovely. You spot two kids giggling to themselves by the banister, they lean in like they’re going to kiss and you gag. “Hey!” You snap, and they jump apart, eyes wide with fear. “Quit it, get out of here.” They scramble off and you feel just a little bit vindicated. 

“Not a fan of young love, Flux?”

You groan and roll your eyes, turning around to find a very smug Scott watching you bully teenagers. “Shut it, Summers,” you warn. You point an accusing finger at him and he raises his hands in surrender. Faux innocence played across his insufferable smirk. “When you’re in a committed relationship, you don’t get to judge me.”

His brows turn down in confusion, “Wait, but aren’t you and Logan-”

He’s cut off by the sound of a loud crash down the hall. You both turn around just as one of the classroom doors slams open. A bright pink explosion hurtles from the doors and a throng of coughing students follows. 

Jubilee walks out a minute later, a guilty expression on her face. “Sorry, I was just trying to make it more Vanetine-y.” 

You glance over at Scott, grinning widely at him while you pat his shoulder and walk past him, leaving him to clean up the mess. “Enjoy the young love, Summers.”

You actively avoid Logan all day. You’re already facing constant reminders of how lonely you are. You see kids walking around with baskets of bears and chocolates. Or you catch them passing notes in class with scribbled hearts all over the front. 

There’s only so much a girl can take before she loses it. The last thing you need is to be faced with the man you have the worst unrequited crush on in history. But he doesn’t seem to get the hint. He’s everywhere you go, popping up around corners and trying to catch your attention. 

You keep brushing him off and pretending like you have something urgent you’re going to be late for. Eventually, though, he was going to catch up with you. 

It happens in the kitchen. Most of the kids are in their rooms or the library. The noise has died down and you’re alone. You grumble to yourself, ripping down a pink streamer that keeps drifting across the top of your head and pissing you off. You grab a frozen meal from the fridge and are about to microwave it when he speaks. 

“Huh, thought you’d want something a little more romantic than a frozen burrito.” 

You gasp, clutching your chest and whirling around on him while your heart races. “Logan, Jesus, you scared me.” He’s frowning at you, eyes glaring at the frozen package in your hand. “Um,” you toss it back in the freezer but the look on his face isn’t going away. “Yeah, I might just go with cereal instead.”

He looks at you and then glances behind him. You peer around his shoulder but you don’t see anything. Without much warning, he grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the stairs. “Logan?” There’s no point in trying to resist him, he could just toss you up the stairs if he wanted to. Still, the silence is kind of creeping you out. 

You call his name a few more times but give up when he makes it clear he’s not going to be answering you anytime. There’s a rotten feeling in your stomach. You have this awful idea like you’re in trouble for something. Like a little girl who's gotten her hand caught in the cookie jar too many times. 

He stops you in front of his door and nods towards it. “You want me to go inside?” He crosses his arms and glares down at you. You huff and mutter, “Jesus, fine.” What the hell is wrong with him?

You grab the doorknob to his room, glaring at him while you do. You throw the door open dramatically, taking a step inside and surveying the area. “Wow,” you suck your teeth and shake your head. “You have not decorated at all.”

“Shut up, smartass,” he mutters in your ear. Chills prick at your skin from his proximity. A shudder goes down your spine as the low tone of his voice reverberates through you. “Look a little harder.”

You roll your eyes but acquiesce. Another run over the room finally shows you what you missed. You gasp and rush towards his bed, “Holy shit, Bart!” He chuckles behind you as you pick the stuffed pigeon up. 

“Went back for him after we left,” Logan tells you. 

You glare at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How many tries did this take you?” He mouths a smug one and you roll your eyes in irritation. You look back down at the pigeon and smile.

He smells like the inside of a claw machine. His head is sewed on crookedly and you’re pretty sure he’s missing an eye. But he’s absolutely perfect to you. You’re about to thank Logan when you spot something metal wrapped around the stuffie’s neck. “What’s this,” you mumble to yourself. 

You slide your fingers under the chain and tug it off Bart’s neck. Logan’s dog tags dangle off your fingers and you stare at him in shock. A sudden cold dread washes over you and you find yourself immobile. “Logan,” you trail off, an unspoken question following his name. 

He smirks, walking towards you and slipping the tags out of your hand. “I wanted you to have this,” he says, his voice low like this moment is too precious to break, “so you know you’re not alone. You’re always so afraid of what’s going to happen if you lose control out in the field. But you forget, you’re not alone. You have me, you’re always going to have me.” He places the tags over your neck, untucking your hair from the chain. 

You don’t even have words for him. It’s such a deeply personal gift. But this also feels incredibly intimate. There’s no possible way for you to reason this away. This isn’t something “just friends” do. 

He seems to prefer your silence, anyway. One of his hands drifts from your neck and cups your jaw. With the utmost tenderness, he lifts your face to his. “Wanted to do this for a while,” he whispers. You almost ask what he’s talking about, but his lips are already covering yours. 

It’s incredibly soft, this kiss, softer than you’re used to. He’s barely putting any pressure on you and it makes you realize that you’re still not moving. You’re just standing there in shock, eyes wide open while the man you’ve wanted since you’ve known him kisses you. 

You drop Bart to the floor and your arms come up to twine around his neck. You finally close your eyes, let your body melt into his knowing he’ll catch you. The second you reciprocate he really kisses you. Neither of you hold back, each of you pouring all the pent-up desire you’ve felt for each other. 

You’ve spent so long dancing around this, around each other. It’s like a missing puzzle piece is returned to you as Logan holds you. You feel full, complete, warmer than you ever have before. 

You part from him - needing air - painfully slow. You don’t want to spend a second away from him now that you have him. You wish you didn’t have to breathe. Wished you could have kept kissing him and never stopped. 

Logan chuckles, pressing a kiss against your forehead like he can read your thoughts. You can feel the dorky smile that’s about to split your cheeks. You bite your lip, hoping it might suppress it, but you know it’s pointless. 

You look up at him with a cheeky twinkle in your eye. “Are you asking me to be your Valentine, Lo?”

He scoffs and pulls away from you slightly. “Do you have to ask your girlfriend to be your Valentine?”

Your eyes widen and your mouth opens and closes rapidly. “I- Well- I mean,” you take a full step back from him and shake your head. “What?” You finally settle on. “I mean, I’m not objecting, at all, but what?”

Logan tilts his head, a disbelieving look on his face. “What do you think we’ve been doing the past three weeks?”

You shake your head, stuttering and struggling for an answer. “I don’t know. I thought you were being a good friend!”

He smiles, there’s no irritation on his face at your cluelessness. If anything he seems to be more endeared to you. “You think I take all my friends on romantic picnics in the woods?”

You sigh, letting out a long disappointed breath. You can’t believe you’ve been so blind. When you think about it, his behavior lately makes a lot more sense. You’re not sure how you were able to trick yourself for so long. 

“Well,” you start, walking back towards him as he pulls you into a hug, “certainly not Scott.” He huffs and shakes his head. You give him a sheepish smile, brows knitted together. “I can’t believe we’ve been dating this whole time.”

He just presses another kiss to your temple and shrugs. “It’s alright, sweetheart, you can make it up to me by being my Valentine again next year.”

There’s something unspoken in his voice. A promise that he’s planning to be around for a lot longer than a year. You smile at him, silently promising the same. “Only if you’re mine.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

a/n: i’m gonna gag actually. Made myself cringe there at the end. I want a valentine next year so bad, it’s sad. But what’s the point of a valentine if it’s not going to be Logan?

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

[starcurtain]

Teyvat's "Most Down Bad" Award Goes to Alhaitham for a Second Year Running

Seeing everyone making fun of Alhaitham for his "stalkerish" tendencies in this event is funny, because I feel like a lot of people missed that "Be literally everywhere Kaveh is" has been Alhaitham's MO from the day Kaveh appeared in the game.

From only grabbing his house keys after Kaveh returned from the desert (he couldn't have had both sets of keys at the end of the Archon Quest unless he went home and got Kaveh's copy) to ditching conversations to get back to his house only after Kaveh came home, to showing up without any warning or explanation in Kaveh's hangout with some ridiculous excuse about hearing his voice through noise-cancelling headphones... Refusing to offer any help in the Temple of Silence story quest other than staying in the library with Kaveh...

Since when does Alhaitham willingly cover anyone else's duties?

But this trend of "Be everywhere Kaveh is" didn't start when they were adults. It was already in place when they were still Akademiya students--and it's a trend that didn't end even when they had their fight.

Even when they weren't speaking, Alhaitham dogged Kaveh's every step through published responses to Kaveh's research articles in academic journals. He insisted on keeping a line of communication between himself and Kaveh open, even if the only way to do that was through very public ideological clashes. Pulling Kaveh's pigtails to get his attention lolol. It's implied that, for at least the few years between their fight and Kaveh moving in, this was the only communication between them--Alhaitham's refusal to allow their connection to entirely fade away. (And the fact that this is revealed in Kaveh's character stories--through his precious journal that records the moments of his life that had the most impact on him--shows just how deeply he values the fact that Alhaitham didn't give up.)

Another relevant side note: Alhaitham never asked Kaveh to give up his half of their house. Knowing half of it belonged to Kaveh, knowing that Kaveh may one day want to reclaim his part of it, knowing that it was listed as theirs, Alhaitham moved into the house and made zero effort to change its ownership. He was completely fine with living in "his and Kaveh's house." The stories suggest it was only months later (or even longer) that Kaveh even noticed he had the house, and he transferred away ownership of his portion without Alhaitham ever asking him (or even seemingly wanting him) to do so.

Please, let that sink in. Alhaitham actively left his grandmother's (presumably comfortable) house to move into "his and Kaveh's house," with no apparent explanation for why, and after doing so, he made no attempt to change that "his and Kaveh's" label. He moved into the house with no promise that Kaveh wouldn't show up on the doorstep the very next day and move in too. It almost feels like another deliberate provocation--I've moved into our house, are you going to come stop me? LBR, if Alhaitham had had his way, Kaveh would have been living there with him from Day 1...

There's also the fact that Kaveh literally can't write on a single message board anywhere in the entire nation of Sumeru without Alhaitham hunting his messages down and responding to them (which absolutely no one else does, by the way).

"NUH-UH!" "UH-HUH." "NUH-UH!"

Alhaitham's own character stories tell us explicitly that one of Alhaitham's defining character traits is "He is never where you need him to be," yet somehow...

Shot, and chaser:

Any time Kaveh is in the slightest bit of need or danger or just wants Alhaitham near, Alhaitham is "coincidentally" exactly where Kaveh needs him to be, whenever Kaveh needs him to be there.

Alhaitham didn't just "happen" to run into Kaveh in Port Ormos, an entirely different city from where he was supposed to be working. He didn't just "happen" to read the same terrible book as Kaveh when we know he otherwise would not waste a moment of his time on poorly-written literature...

He didn't just "happen" to appear when Kaveh was upset and needed a distraction in the House of Daena during Kaveh's hangout. He didn't just "happen" to be sitting around waiting when Kaveh needed answers after the Archon Quest. He didn't just "happen" to find Kaveh's academic publications and every single message board posting and respond to them at length and in public.

The only person for whom Alhaitham just "happens" to be available is Kaveh, over and over and over again--because he is very deliberately making himself a constant presence in Kaveh's life.

Which is exactly what Kaveh's mother told Kaveh he needed.

(Like, out of all things, I think people really underestimate the devs deliberately paralleling the romantic relationship between Kaveh's mother and father with Kaveh and Alhaitham's relationship. If you want to point to one thing that says "These two characters are intentionally queer-coded," it doesn't get any more obvious than this.)

Alhaitham, are you not embarrassed to be this transparent??? 🫣