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rosenclaws · 1 day ago

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Come back (erased part ii) || Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: Logan doesn't remember you but he can sense you. He can tell you were someone important so when the team hatches a plan to find you he's the one leading the charge.

warnings: she/her pronouns, violence, killing, blood, reader gets hit/threatened, mental torture, injuries, logan goes feral, illusions.

wc: 3.5k

link to part 1

a/n: Part two is here!! Finally omfg im sorry this took so long. I hope this is a good part two i had a fun time writing the angst and stuff. It maybe ended a little darker than I meant but oh welll. We love some angst. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

The sound of the grandfather clock echoes in Logan's ears. The faint sound of students walking around the halls, playing outside. All drowned out by the clock. The heart necklace sits in his palm, his rough fingers tracing the shape over and over again.

When Logan had gotten back to the mansion he was bombarded with questions. All about a person he had never heard of. He grew angry and confused, wondering who they were talking about. It wasn't until he saw the look on all their faces that he realized something was wrong.

Memory wiped. He was fucking memory wiped again. Charles tried to explain it all but his brain went fuzzy. He tried to restore them but whatever you had done was too powerful. Only faint distant feelings. They tried to jog his memories with pictures but nothing worked. Whoever you were you were, you and him were close.

He's got a look on his face that he doesn't even recognize. One of pure adoration. The stories they tell, it was like hearing stories of someone else. He went through his room. He could smell this faint vanilla scent. The same one from the motel room. It was you. He was with you. But just who are you?

He turns the heart around in his hands. It’s faintly familiar. He closes his eyes and tries to wrack his brain for anything. Just something. There's a gaping hole in his chest, a sense of dread and something lost. A surge of anger takes over him as he shoves the necklace back in his pocket. He feels helpless and confused and he fucking hates it.

They're planning something in Chuck's office and they kicked him out. Why he doesn't know. They're planning a rescue for you and apparently he was the most important person to you so why wouldn't he be in there. Even if he doesn't remember. He should be in there. He stands up and barges through the doors, not caring anymore.

"Tell me what the hell is going on. Now." He stands with his arms crossed, a scowl on his face.

"Logan..." Jean starts but he brushes her off.

"I don't fucking care if I don't remember her just fucking tell me the mission." They team exchange looks and Logan resists the urge to roll his eyes. He's not a child. Whether he remembers you or not you were important to him and to the team. He needs to get you back.

"The mutant group, apparently she knew of them. She used to work with them years ago before any of us knew her." Charles explains and Logan listens. His hands tightening into a fist.

"We believe that she went after them for reasons we do not know. But what we do know is that they're dangerous. More dangerous than what she remembers." He can feel somethings off. The way the team shifts in their seats. The way Ororo won't even look him in the eyes.

"Logan, we think they have her." Scott says slowly.

"So we go find her."

"It's not that simple-"

"No it really fucking is that simple." Logan growls.

"You all talk about her like she's the heart of the fucking mansion so why am I the one who seems to care the most right now! I can't even remember her!" Logan slams his fist hard onto the table it almost breaks.

Why aren't they as worried as he is? Why don't they seem to care? Silence casts over the room but slowly everyone nods, agreeing with him.

"We leave in 15." He says with such severity that no one argues. Logan turns and leaves. Ready to come and find you.

The jet engine hum is the only sound inside. Everyone is quiet. Waiting. Normally Logan hates flying but right now he's too focused on getting you back. His eyes are closed as he tries to pull anything from his head. The faint sound of laughter, the feeling of warmth, the smell of vanilla. All of it was right there. Locked behind a door he couldn't get through. He feels someone sit in the seat next to him.

"What." He growls as he turns the necklace in his hand around and around.

"Are you okay?" It's storms voice. He sighs and opens his eyes.

"Just fine." She's quiet for a moment before she decides to talk.

"We're going to find her Logan." She says with a confidence he just doesn't have.

"You and her, I've never seen two people more meant for each other. She made you happy and you made her feel less alone." He wishes he remembered you.

He really does.

He can't think of all the moments he's been told about or the pictures that have been taken. He doesn't know what it was like to love you or to be loved by you anymore. It kills him. If he was happy, if you made him happy, then he's lost it all. Why would you take that away? From him and from you. Why couldn't you trust him with this?

Even though his memories are gone he can feel this sense of worry building in his chest. He needs you to be okay. He needs to protect you. Fuck he doesn't even remember you but that deep primal urge is still there.

"Five minutes out. Everyone brace for landing." Logan tucks the necklace into his suit, keeping it close to his heart as he unsheathes his claws and waits for landing. He will find you. There's no other option for him.

Your whole body ached. After leaving Logan you tracked down Mack and his gang but they had the one up on you. New, powerful mutants. They already knew you were coming the second you had the thought. They ambushed you. Attacked you and rendered you useless. They should have just killed you but Mack wanted to keep you. To lure your team out as a trap.

"They aren't coming." You hiss as he stands in front of you. He's crouching down and grinning.

"I don't know sweetheart, my sources tell me there's someone on the team who is quite fond of you." He brushes your cheek and you recoil in disgust.

"Get your fucking hands off me." He chuckles and one of his followers hit you hard in your leg.

"Feisty. Tell me, is that because of Logan? Did he rub off on you?" Your blood runs cold. If they do anything to him.

"Don't touch him." You lunge at Mack but you're restrained. to the ground. Mack presses his foot onto your throat and his smirk turns into something dark.

"You're funny. Tell you what." He puts more pressure on your neck and you start to see dots in your vision.

"When the Wolverine gets here we'll make him watch you die...and then kill him." Mack laughs and another hard blow to your head sends you into darkness.

You can only hope that Logan stays far, far away from this.

He can hear them. Fucking idiots not even trying to hide. They're bragging, laughing. Well they won’t be laughing for long. Logan’s claws gleam under the moonlight as he stalks like an animal.

The plan was to create a diversion while a rescue team goes in to get you. He wasn’t exactly know for his subtlety but no one wanted to argue him being the one to find you. It was a one man rescue team.

The sky rumbles and a loud explosion from far away leads the mutant group away. Logan springs into action. He takes out the few bodyguards around camp with ease.

He finds you alone and unguarded. A sense of relief washing over him as he bends down and scoops you up in his arms. Though he can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. That this was too easy.

“Logan?” Your voice is quiet, broken.

“Hey, we’re gonna get you out of here.” He gently holds you as he looks for a way out.

“No.” You say. Your voice stronger than before. Confusion washes over him as you push him away. The injuries on your body seemed to disappear as the world fades around him.

“You think I want you to save me? I ran away from you Logan. Couldn’t you get the fucking hint?” Your words spit like venom. You were not the person he thought you were.

“It was all a lie, a cover.” His claws come out, teeth baring as his anger grows. But then he catches a whiff of someone unfamiliar. He hears the faint calling of his name.

“Yeah?” He walks closer to you. A taunting look on your face. Without warning he swings his claws right next to your face.

“Tell him that it will take more than a weak illusion to fool me.” Logan whispers in your ear.

Slowly the world he thought was reality melts away. Your tied up, held by force by one of Mack’s followers. Had he given in and swung at you he would have killed you. That must have been their plan. He looks to the side to see a body with three claw marks on the ground.

“Well, you’re smarter than I thought. Well done Wolvie.” He hears a slow clap behind him.

”Fuck off bub,” Logan growls as he holds up his claws. Ready to pounce. He hears the rustling around him. He’s not alone, they’re hiding, waiting.

“It’s a shame really, we would have gotten along great.” Mack smirks as Logan grows angrier.

“Fat fucking chance.” Logan lunges at Mack but he’s tackled to the ground. Held down by some sort of force he can’t fight.

“You may be physically strong but let’s see how you do when someone fucks with your mind. Just like she did.” Logan struggles baring his teeth as he tries to fight out of whatever hold they have him under.

“Stop!” You cry out. Your voice is strained and tears are falling down your cheeks.

“Mack please, just leave him alone.” You fight out of the grip on you with all your strength. Falling to the ground roughly. Your hands are still tied behind your back as you struggle to get up.

“Please don’t hurt him.” Your desperate.

Mack stands up crouches over you. He grabs your face roughly, digging his nails into your face tightly. Logan growls when he sees you wince in pain.

“Aww so cute.” He taunts and throws you to the ground.

“The question is which one of you has the biggest hero complex hm? You left us because you thought we were wrong, evil. You wanted to play hero.”

“What we did was wrong Mack. We hurt innocent people for our own good.” Logan stares at you and you can’t find it in yourself to look him in the eyes.

You can’t bare to see that look of nothing. He doesn’t know who you are and its your fault. But this is for the best. You can get him out of here and he can walk away from you without the pain.

You feel a sharp pain as Mack slaps you hard. “We were surviving!” He yells.

“Why should we care about the world when they don’t care about us!” He takes out a pocket knife and you tense up.

“Get the fuck away from her.” Logan roars and Mack just grins.

With a snap of his fingers one of the other mutants starts to crush Logan. It was a subtle pressure at first but he could feel the discomfort. They were sinking him into the ground. They were going to bury him alive. You can see a flash of panic. He hates that suffocating feeling. So reminiscent of his nightmares.

“Mack please, we were family once.” You beg as you watch Logan struggle. You can’t let them do this to him.

“Stop please!” Mack grabs your face and makes you watch.

“We were but you picked a new family. Now you can watch him suffocate.” Your eyes meet with Logan’s and you start to cry. He’s afraid. Its your fault. This is all your fault.

“I’ll stay! I’ll stay and help you again just let him go!” You cry out. The weight is lifted off Logan and he scrambles to breathe.

“I promise. I won’t fight and I won’t run. Just please, leave him alone.” Mack thinks for a moment, its a tempting offer. Your powers are strong and he was never able to find anyone quite like you.

“No! Logan shouts, he can’t let you do this. Not for him.

“You got yourself a deal. But if you ever try anything. We’ll hunt him down and kill him. Then the rest of your little family.” Your eyes flash with fear and you nod.

Logan’s heart twists as he sees the broken look on your face. You’re condemning yourself to a torturous life for him. When you look at him he feels a horrible feeling. He longs for you. Your eyes are full of a love he’s missing from his life. You love him and he can’t even remember what it was like. Did you calm his nightmares? Keep his deepest secrets? Did you know all his faults and choose to love him anyways? He needs to know. They pick him up and force him onto his knees.

"Tell your team to stay away." Mack wraps his hand around your neck, his knife pressing against your skin, taunting Logan.

"Logan...I love you and I'm sorry." Your voice is raspy as you choke out the words. He needs to know. You smile painfully as Logan just looks at you.

"Go on, run away Wolvie." Mack snarls.

Even in pain your eyes are full of love just looking at him. He was your everything. You love him so much you're willing to sacrifice yourself, your happiness, all of it for him. How? This kind of love...he's never felt this before. He may not remember it all with you but fuck he wants to know what its like. He wants to learn what it was like to be loved by you. He can't let you go. Not when his future happiness is in your hands. The rage builds. He will not leave you. Doesn't matter how much blood will be shed tonight. He will save you.

With a loud roar Logan unsheathes his claws and with all his willpower throws off the weighted feeling. He's like an animal, snarling and growling as he drives his claws into your captors. There's no mercy in the way he takes each and everyone of them out. They try to stop him but when they realize their efforts are futile they start to run.

"Where do you think you're going?" His voice is cold, void of any emotion as he digs his claws deep into someone chest. Mack's confidence fades as he watches Logan's rampage. He grabs you and tries to run. Dragging you along the forest floor.

"Logan!" You shout and he instantly turns around.

On all fours he uses his claws to launch himself towards you. Chasing Mack down like prey. It's really a pity how fast he catches him. At another time he would have enjoyed playing with him, toying with his fear. All the pain he's caused, not just your pain but the innocent people he's ruined. He deserves to pay.

"Not so tough now huh?" Logan stabs him right through the heart.

When he's sure he's dead he stands up, blood soaking his claws. His head turns to you and you freeze. You know he won't hurt you but apart of you worries this is a trick. Another one of Mack's illusions just to fuck with you. Logan gently bends down and cuts you free.

"He's gone sweetheart." Tears start to fall down your cheeks as he scoops you up in his arms.

"I'm sorry I'm so sorry." You babble over and over as Logan holds you tight. You fit just like a puzzle piece into his arms. This feels right. This feels like home. The sound of footsteps sets him on edge but he calms down when he sees the familiar faces of his team.

"Where the hell were you guys?"

No one dared bother Logan. They let him take you back to the jet. He held you the whole time. Even when you fell asleep from utter exhaustion he kept you close. He was with you every step of the way. Bringing you to the lab, watching as they run tests and stick needles into your arm. On your recovery bed with the ugly white lights he sat until you woke up. Sometimes you stirred, whining and you sounded afraid.

He wonders what fucked up things Mack made you see. The bruises and scars on your body told only half the story. With each fearful sound he wishes he would have taken longer to kill that bastard. But he's gone now and you seem to calm down when he's with you. Sensing him through your sleep.

The necklace sits in his hand. After he got back he had to make sure it was still with him. It was bloodied now, and had some wear and tear from the past. So he busied himself fixing it up, cleaning it until it shined like new. He doesn't know when or why he bought it for you but clearly it was special. The two stones meant something. He knew they did.

When you finally came to he jumped into action. Calling hank to come check on you while he slipped away to get you water. There was a big fuss, people scolding you for leaving and crying from happiness that you were back. Apologizes poured out of your mouth as you faced your family. Logan hung back and watched you be embraced, be loved. Your powers seemed to settle after this. The fear of touching other people was gone as you hugged people without a second thought. He waited and waited until it was just the two of you.

"Hey there," You can barely look at him as he sits in the plastic chair next to your bed.

"Logan I..." You can't get the words out. How do you even begin to apologize.

You bury your face in your hands but Logan isn't having it. He had a lot of questions but they could wait. He takes your hands away from your face, cupping your chin to make you look at him. Your heart breaks a little when you look into those eyes. He still doesn't know you. Of course, his memories are still gone.

"Why did you come? You don't remember me." You ask him. He risked his life for you, he killed for you. The Logan you knew at the start wouldn't have done that for you. Maybe with the team but to risk all of it alone. Why?

"I don't have to remember you to see you were important to me sweetheart, though I would really like those memories back." Of course.

You never took them from him. If anything you locked them away. You couldn't bring yourself to truly erase yourself from his mind. With a gentle touch you release his memories like a tidal wave. They pour into his brain, flooding his senses as memory after memory flash into his mind. Ending with your final moments together in that motel room.

Your first kiss, you told him you loved him. You took that from him. He should be angry with you. You stole his memories just like they did before but when he opens his eyes there's no anger.

Only love.

He smashes his lips onto yours. Capturing you into a heated kiss. This is what he dreamed of. Getting to touch you like this, to show his love. He's rough with his motions. He should be gentler but he can't help himself. Years of desperation building up into this. He can finally hold you, finally claim you as his.

"Logan I'm so sorry." You cry. He shushes you with another kiss.

He doesn't care about that right now. You were afraid and though he wishes you came to him he's just glad to have you back. You scared the fuck out of him.

"I love you too sweetheart, you didn't give me the chance to say it but fuck I love you." You claw at his shirt to get him closer.

You need him to be as close as he can. He ignores the wires and climbs into the bed with you. Situating himself so that you're as close as you can get. Legs intertwined with each other. He takes the necklace and places it around your neck. Clasping it and smiling as it rests above your heart.

"I'll always fight for us sweetheart. I'll fight for you." Even if he doesn't remember you he knew deep down that there was something there. That you were important to him. No one could take that away from him.

You curl into his arms, finally feeling at peace for the first time. Not worried about your powers or about your past. You felt protected and loved. Logan lulls you back to rest promising to keep watch. He knows that what you suffered won't go away easily but he'll be there every step of the way.

Nothing will take you from him again. Not ever. He'll make sure of that.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett angst #wolverine x reader

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elikajinnie · 3 days ago

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How Can I Choose? - HeeJake

P: Roommates!HeeJake X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Bonding, Alcohol Drinking, Clubbing, Teasing like LOT of teasing, Possessive Behaviour, Suggestive Content (i mean it), they both kinda whipped for you, Ambigious Ending.

Synopsis: After months of crashing on friends' couches, you finally find a cheap apartment, only to realize your new roommates—Heeseung and Jake—both have feelings for you. As flirtation turns into tension, you must navigate the complexities of living together while deciding how to handle their surprising willingness to share you.

a/n: boaf. baof? BOAF! -- i HOPE the link of the drawing i made of the apartment is accessible! pls tell me if it isnt. anyways! i got this idea in the shower and fried my brain by writing it in the span of a few hours :) SO PLSSS DONT MIND HOW STUPID IT IS.

-----

You stand in front of a tall, gray apartment building, boxes and suitcases piled around you. One of your friends had been kind enough to drive you and your stuff to this new place, and as their car drives away, you're left with a sense of excitement. This is your chance to finally find some stability after a long stretch of uncertainty.

There’s an excitement buzzing in your chest, but a trace of exhaustion lingers. For weeks, you’ve been crashing on friends' couches, juggling multiple jobs, and the demands of school alongside the perpetual search for somewhere—anywhere—to land.

Finally, though, things seemed to be turning around. Just days ago, you’d been clocked in for a slow shift at the convenience store, trying to squeeze in some schoolwork behind the counter.

With only a handful of customers trickling in over the hours, you found yourself browsing for rental listings once you had finished your assignments.

Luck seemed to be on your side that day. The first ad you saw was for an apartment close to the city, with a store nearby and plenty of bus stops in the area. It was perfect. The listing described a single room available in a decently sized apartment, affordable and ideally located. The ad was put up by someone named Sim Jaeyun, who had a picture of a cute dog as his profile picture but no other personal information.

You scrolled through the pictures of the apartment, noting its clean, functional layout. The description specified the need for a tenant who was clean, could cook for themselves, wasn't excessively loud, and could pay rent on time. You nodded, realizing you met all those criteria, and sent in your request without hesitation.

As you close your laptop that day, a customer walks in, and you go back to your duties, hoping that this will be the break you've been waiting for. The prospect of finally unpacking your suitcase for good after moving out from your parents' house was a comforting thought that kept you going.

Now, standing at the building’s entrance, you can’t help but feel a small, hopeful thrill. You walk towards the door and pull your focus to the side panel by the intercom and scan for the familiar name: Jaeyun. But your eyes catch something else—Jake and Heeseung. You tilt your head, curious. Jake was the name you’d come to know him by in your recent conversations, the person who’d warmly accepted your request and walked you through what to expect. You hadn’t known there was another roommate. With a shrug, you figure it’s something you’ll ask him about once you’re inside. Pressing the buzzer, you wait.

A few seconds later, a soft buzz sounds, and the door clicks open. You place a wooden doorstop to prop it open and start bringing in your belongings, piling up suitcases and boxes just inside the entrance. The elevator dings, drawing your attention as the doors slide open, revealing a man stepping out. His dark hair falls casually around his glasses, framing a face both handsome and warm. His clothes are neat but relaxed, hanging comfortably on his frame, and his easy smile grows wider when he spots you.

“Hey! You must be the new tenant,” he greets, extending a hand as he reaches you. “I’m Jake.”

You introduce yourself with a grunt, and he nods, giving a friendly chuckle before he glances down at the boxes and bags. “Let me help you with that.” With his help, it doesn’t take long for you to gather your belongings into the elevator.

Once all your things are inside, Jake presses the button for the third floor, and the elevator doors glide shut with a soft hum. He turns to you, slipping easily into what sounds like a well-rehearsed rundown of apartment essentials.

“So, first thing,” he says, glancing over at you with a friendly smile, “I’ll get you a key for the front door. And the apartment itself has a digital lock, so I’ll give you the code as well. We usually change it every few months, just to be safe.”

You nod, taking it all in as he continues.

“The laundry room is in the basement. It’s shared with a few other units, but it’s usually pretty quiet. Most people don’t do laundry until the weekends, so if you want some quiet time down there, mid-week is best.” He gives a quick chuckle. “Also, there's a schedule sheet down there if you want to block off a time.”

As the elevator rises, he ticks off other small details—the garbage room is down the hall, recycling day is every Tuesday, and there’s a spot by the door for your shoes, since he prefers to keep the place tidy. It’s all practical, straightforward, and reassuring.

As he speaks, you think back to the other name on the door panel and decide to ask. “So… Heeseung?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s a good friend,” Jake replies, giving a small nod. “He’s crashing with me. His schedule is intense, so you won’t see much of him unless there’s something big planned. But he’s a good guy—you’ll like him.”

You nod in understanding, unable to keep the fleeting thought that if Jake looks this good, Heeseung might be just as handsome.

The elevator dings, signaling that you’ve arrived. Jake reaches down, effortlessly lifting a heavy box as he steps into the hallway. He walks to door 3F, punches in the code, and holds the door open as you step into your new apartment.

The first thing that strikes you is the openness of the space. Sunlight filters in through large windows, illuminating the clean, modern living room. A spacious couch faces an oversized TV, framed by soft, neutral-colored walls and minimal decor that gives it a cozy feel. Further in, to the right, lies an open kitchen and dining area. There’s a polished dining table set against the wall, and you can picture yourself here, finally settled and able to take in a meal in peace. A small staircase with four steps sits to the right, leading up to what you assume are the bedrooms.

Jake steps up beside you, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “I, uh, did a bit of cleaning before you came. Wanted to make sure you had a good first impression.”

You chuckle softly and assure him it’s perfect as he leads you up the stairs. At the top, he pushes open the door to a room and steps inside, placing the bag and box he’s holding down carefully. “Here we are. This is your room.”

You step inside, taking in the space that is, for now, just walls and an bed frame. But with your belongings, you can already imagine turning it into comfortable. Jake heads back downstairs to grab more of your things, leaving you to take in the moment.

Setting your suitcase and bag down, you take a deep breath, just as Jake returns, balancing a final pair of bags. He gives a small, easy smile as he sets them down by the bed frame.

“Oh, by the way,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, a little sheepish. “I took the liberty of getting you a mattress. Figured it’d make the first few nights a bit more comfortable.”

Your face lights up in gratitude. “Thank you, Jake. That’s really thoughtful.”

He shrugs it off with a smile. “Glad it helps.” Gesturing around the small hall outside, he continues, “So, my room’s just across from yours, and the bathroom’s at the end of the hall, next to my room. Heeseung’s room is right beside yours, but he’s out right now, so no worries there.” He hands you a small, brass-colored key. “Here’s your copy of the front door key.”

You take it, the weight of it feeling like a tiny anchor, grounding you here. With a nod, he gives you a quick smile and quietly steps out, closing the door behind him.

As the silence settles, you glance around, noticing—thankfully—that the door has a lock, which brings a small comfort. You exhale, feeling a rare sense of privacy and security, and decide it’s time to start unpacking. Unzipping your first bag, you begin pulling out clothes and books, setting them on the bed.

With each item you unpack, the room slowly takes shape. Clothes find a place in the closet, your books line up on a narrow shelf, and you tack a few personal photos and mementos on the walls, bringing color and comfort to the once-bare space. A small, soft rug unfurls at the foot of the bed, and a cozy blanket drapes over the mattress. By the time you finish, hours have slipped by without you realizing it.

Just then, a loud growl from your stomach reminds you it’s well past dinnertime. You leave the room, closing the door behind you, and step out into the apartment. The lights are dim, shadows stretching through the now quiet space, and Jake is nowhere in sight. Shrugging, you make your way to the kitchen.

You open the fridge and peer inside, noticing containers labeled with Jake and Heeseung’s names—and a few others you don’t recognize. One container in particular catches your eye, with a handwritten label that reads Ni-ki. Just as you’re about to open it, wondering who this Ni-ki is, a soft chime sounds from the front door, signaling someone’s arrival.

Turning, you see a tall man standing in the entryway, framed by the dim glow of the hallway. He’s effortlessly cool, dressed in baggy pants and a leather jacket, a motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm. His dark hair is swept back, and his gaze sharpens as he looks at you.

“Who are you?” he asks, his voice low and slightly gruff.

You introduce yourself, explaining you’re Jake’s new roommate, and he nods in understanding.

“So, you’re the girl Jake was talking about,” he says, almost to himself. “I’m Heeseung.” He then glances at the container still in your hand and raises an eyebrow. “You might want to avoid eating Ni-ki’s leftovers,” he advises with a small smirk. “He can be… protective of his food.”

You tilt your head. “Who’s Ni-ki?”

“A friend,” Heeseung replies simply, slipping out of his jacket and hanging it by the door. As you place the container back in the fridge, he suddenly reappears in front of you, holding out a takeout bag.

“Here,” he says, passing it to you.

You take it, peeking inside to find a neatly packed dinner. You look up, surprised. “Thank you, Heeseung.”

His expression softens, a faint smile curving his lips. “You’re welcome.”

A voice from behind interrupts. “Can you close the fridge?”

You and Heeseung turn to see Jake standing at the kitchen entrance, dressed in pajamas, rubbing his eyes with a sleepy smile. You quickly apologize and shut the fridge door, but Jake waves it off as he turns his attention to Heeseung.

“Hey, man,” Jake says, stepping over to Heeseung. Then, with a gleam in his eye, he looks back at you, resting his hand on your shoulder and playfully bouncing on his feet. “Isn’t she great? The new roommate?”

Heeseung chuckles, looking down at you with a gaze that feels unexpectedly warm. “She’s even better than you said,” he says, his voice dropping to a soft, teasing tone. “Got a good taste in roommates, huh?”

Jake nods, grinning. “Right? A good pick for sure.” He tosses you a lighthearted wink, adding, “We’re lucky to have you here.”

The playful compliments catch you off guard, and you can feel your cheeks heating up. Silently grateful for the dim light that hides your blush, you stammer out a thank you, bidding them both goodnight before slipping back to your room.

Once inside, you lock the door and settle onto the bed, setting up the takeout and opening your laptop. The food is still warm, and you relax against the pillows, pulling up an episode of the series you’ve been watching.

-----

The next morning, your alarm jolts you awake, piercing through the calm of your dreams. You groan and fumble to turn it off, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sit up.

After changing into a fresh set of clothes, you grab your toiletries and shuffle out into the hallway, relieved to find it empty. You lock the bathroom door behind you, a small sigh of relief escaping your lips.

Inside, the bathroom is decently sized, its neutral colors soothing. A simple shower sits in the far corner, while a toilet is tucked beside it. Two sinks stand side by side, both topped with a huge mirror that reflects the morning light. You notice one sink is filled with various male grooming products—shaving cream, two toothbrushs, and a few other items—while the other sink remains empty. A smile tugs at your lips as you remember Jake mentioning that the empty sink was yours.

You get to work, brushing your teeth and washing your face, the cool water refreshing against your skin. The cabinets hold a few decorations and essentials, but you keep it simple as you focus on getting ready for the day. Once you finish, you take a last glance at your reflection, before exiting the bathroom. You head back to your room to grab your bag. After making sure the door is locked behind you, you head down the stairs and out of the apartment, trying to be as quiet as possible. You hope you didn’t wake Jake and Heeseung; they both have classes later in the day, and you’d hate to disturb their sleep.

Once outside, you take a deep breath, the crisp morning air filling your lungs as you walk toward the bus stop. You decide to skip breakfast this morning, opting to grab lunch on campus and planning to pick up groceries in the afternoon instead.

The elevator ride down feels swift, and as you step outside, you see the bus pulling up just in time. You board, find a seat, and settle in, clutching your bag on your lap as you pull out your phone. With a few taps, you put on your favorite playlist, letting the music drown out the morning chatter around you.

As the bus rolls along, you gaze out the window, watching the world blur by. Trees, shops, and people merge into a soft painting of morning life, and a small smile spreads across your face.

----

After a long day of classes, you make your way back to the bus stop, the familiar rhythm of your routine guiding you. Once on the bus, you relax, your mind still buzzing from the lectures and discussions. The bus stops at the mall, and you hop off, ready to clock into your shift at the clothing store.

The hours fly by as you assist customers, folding clothes, and restocking shelves. Each sale and every smile from satisfied shoppers makes the time pass a little quicker. When your shift finally ends, you clock out, ready to head to your next job.

Another bus ride takes you to the convenience store, where you cover for one of your colleagues who is running late. Luckily, your shift is only a few hours. You greet familiar faces as you work the register, and soon enough, your colleague arrives, a bit flustered but apologetic. You clock out, the end of your shift bringing a welcome sigh of relief.

With a little time to spare, you decide to shop for groceries. The store is busy, but you quickly gather the essentials you need for the week. With bags in hand, you hop on the bus again, this time heading to a nearby takeout place where you’ve already called in an order. The thought of cooking feels too exhausting after a long day, so you indulge in the convenience.

Once you pick up your food, you decide to walk home since it’s not too far. As you approach the apartment, you pull out your keychain, finding the key that now feels familiar. Unlocking the door, you step inside, your feet heavy with fatigue. The elevator ride up feels like a small victory, and as you reach the third floor, you shuffle down the hallway to your door.

You punch in the code, the door clicking open as you step inside. Kicking off your shoes and hanging your jacket, you’re immediately greeted by the cheerful presence of Jake and Heeseung. They’re in the living room, and their warm smiles lift your spirits.

“How was your day?” Jake asks, leaning forward with genuine interest.

“Exhausting,” you reply, dragging your bag into the dining area and setting down the takeout food on the table.

Jake’s eyes light up, and he hurries over, his curiosity piqued as he peeks at the food. Meanwhile, Heeseung moves to help you with the groceries, offering to take the bags to the kitchen.

As you unpack, you can’t help but smile at Jake, who is now sneakily grabbing some fries from the takeout container. You shake your head playfully, and he grins, unrepentant in his munching.

The three of you settle around the table, sharing the fries and nuggets, laughter filling the space as you recount the amusing moments from your day. But soon, Heeseung checks the time and realizes he has to get to work.

“Alright, I gotta run,” he says, grabbing his jacket and helmet. “See you guys later!” You and Jake wave goodbye as the front door closes behind him, leaving you and Jake alone in the apartment.

The atmosphere shifts to a cozy calm as you both move to the couch, where Jake grabs a blanket and hands it to you. You settle in, finding the couch surprisingly comfortable.

“Alright, what are we in the mood for?” Jake asks, glancing over at you.

“Something light, maybe a comedy?” you suggest, settling into the cushions.

He nods, his finger hovering over a title. “I’m down for that. Do you have a favorite comedy?”

You think for a moment, a smile creeping onto your face as you recall one of your all-time favorites. “I love Superbad! It’s just so ridiculous but really relatable. What about you?”

Jake grins, leaning back. “Classic choice! I’d have to say The Hangover. That movie just cracks me up every time. The whole concept is just so over-the-top.”

You laugh, remembering the wild escapades of the characters. “It really is! And the way everything just spirals out of control—it's like a train wreck you can’t look away from.”

He clicks on a rom-com, and you settle in to watch. As the opening credits roll, you continue chatting. “So, what got you into movies?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Jake shrugs, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “I guess I grew up watching them with my family. It was always a thing for us to have movie nights on weekends. How about you?”

“Same! My parents were big on movies too, so I was basically raised on classic films. We’d have popcorn and everything. I think that’s where I got my love for them.”

You share stories of your favorite movie nights, each anecdote flowing effortlessly between you. You talk about the films that have made you cry, the ones that made you laugh until your sides hurt, and the thrillers that kept you on the edge of your seat.

“I’m a sucker for horror movies,” Jake admits, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “The adrenaline rush is just so addictive. Have you seen The Conjuring?”

You nod vigorously, recalling how it had you hiding behind your hands the entire time. “That one is terrifying! I had to sleep with the lights on for a week after.”

Jake laughs, and it feels easy and comfortable, the way friends can be. “Same! I love the ones that mess with your mind. You think it’s just a simple scare, but then it leaves you questioning everything later.”

The warmth of the couch and the soft hum of the movie make it hard to keep your eyes open. You fight against the pull of sleep, telling yourself you should stay awake, but it’s a losing battle. Your eyelids grow heavier, and soon enough, they flutter shut, surrendering to the comfort enveloping you.

Time slips away, and you drift in and out of consciousness. The sounds of the film fade into a gentle lull, a backdrop to your dreams.

You only briefly wake when you feel yourself being lifted. Your eyes flutter open, and you blink a few times, trying to make sense of your surroundings. When your gaze meets Jake’s, looking down at you with a sleepy smile, warmth spreads through your chest.

“Go back to sleep,” he mumbles, his voice low and soothing. You can’t find it in you to argue, and you let the comforting haze of sleep pull you under once more.

Jake carries you effortlessly, maneuvering through the apartment, and you feel the gentle sway of his movements. You catch brief glimpses of your surroundings as he struggles momentarily with the lock on your bedroom door, the soft click echoing in the stillness.

He finally succeeds, and with a gentle motion, he lays you down in your bed. The softness of your plushies welcomes you, and you instinctively snuggle closer to them. You hear Jake’s soft chuckle, and it makes you smile even in your half-asleep state.

Just before you fully drift off again, you feel a soft brush against your face as Jake tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

He smiles down at you, a quiet moment shared between you. Then, with a gentle touch, he walks out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

A few moments pass before he returns, this time holding a makeup wipe. You stir slightly, feeling his presence as he approaches the bed. Carefully, he leans down, and you can barely register what he’s doing as he begins to remove your makeup from the day. His movements are soft and precise, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at his tenderness.

“There,” he whispers when he’s done, a smile on his lips as he looks at you. “Pretty...” The word lingers in the air, and even in your half-asleep state, it makes your heart flutter. He tosses the used wipe into the small bin underneath your desk and quietly closes your door.

The sound of the movie plays softly in the background as Jake settles back into the living room, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his features. He waits for Heeseung to return, glancing occasionally toward the hallway, a small smile on his face as he thinks of you tucked away in your room.

----

The next morning, you wake up slowly, the soft sunlight filtering through your window, casting warm rays across your face. It feels like a rare luxury to have a late shift, and you stretch lazily under the covers before finally rolling out of bed. You take your time with your morning routine, enjoying the rare moment of leisure before a long shift ahead.

Once you’re dressed and refreshed, you make your way to the kitchen, the familiar scents of home enveloping you. You decide to whip up some breakfast, you switch on the TV, letting the sounds of a morning show accompany your meal prep.

After breakfast, you head back to your room to tackle some schoolwork at your desk. The quiet hum of the apartment is comforting as you focus on your notes.

It’s not long before you hear the soft sound of Heeseung’s bedroom door creaking open, followed by some shuffling footsteps. Curious, you glance toward your door, wondering if he’s finally awake. Moments later, a knock at your door pulls you from your concentration.

“Come in!” you call out, looking up to see Heeseung standing there, looking adorably disheveled. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, a baggy t-shirt swamping him, and messy hair sticks out in all directions, giving him a relaxed look. His fluffy socks peek out from beneath his pants as he shuffles inside.

“Can you make breakfast for me?” he asks, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Can’t you?” you reply teasingly.

“Too tired…” he mutters, a hint of a pout on his lips.

“Late night at the bar?” you inquire, stepping around him and heading to the kitchen, a grin spreading across your face as he follows you like a sleepy shadow.

“Yeah, I had to cover for my friend while he hooked up with some girl… and he took too long,” he explains, his tone flat as he leans against the kitchen island.

“Oh, that sounds terrible. When did you get home?” you ask, measuring out ingredients for waffles.

“Four a.m…” he mumbles, and you can’t help but chuckle softly, shaking your head at his apparent misfortune.

You hum as you mix the batter, the rhythmic motion soothing in its familiarity. Suddenly, you feel Heeseung draping himself over you from behind, his arms wrapping around your waist and his head resting against the crook of your neck.

“Heeseung?…” you mumble, surprised but not entirely against the sudden intimacy. All you receive in response are muffled grumbles, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

After a moment of stunned hesitation, you decide to carry on with your waffle-making, pouring the batter into the hot waffle iron while he clings to you like a sleepy koala. The gentle weight of him against you is unexpected, but oddly comforting. You focus on the task at hand, feeling the warmth radiating from both the iron and his body.

You try to push the knowledge of how close you both are to the back of your mind, reminding yourself that if Jake were to come in, he wouldn’t see you from this angle. The thought makes your cheeks warm, but you push it aside, trying to maintain your composure as you concentrate on breakfast.

As the waffle iron hisses and the sweet smell begins to fill the air, you steal a glance at Heeseung, who seems perfectly content with his head resting on you, his grip tightening slightly as if to anchor himself in place.

When the waffles finally finish cooking, the kitchen fills with the delicious scent of warm sweetness, and you can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Heeseung slowly releases his hold on you, finally letting you go as he moves to grab a plate. He fills it with a few waffles, drizzling syrup over them before taking a bite, a look of sheer bliss crossing his face.

“These are amazing,” he mumbles with a mouthful, and you can’t help but chuckle at his eagerness.

“Thanks! Just don’t forget who made them,” you tease, your heart warming at his genuine happiness.

He finishes chewing and leans over to wrap his arms around you once more, pulling you in for a brief hug. “Seriously, thank you. You’re a lifesaver,” he says before plopping down on the couch, clearly ready to enjoy his breakfast in comfort.

You linger in the kitchen for a moment, a smile still on your face, before opening the fridge and grabbing a vitamin drink. You pop it open and take a refreshing sip, as you walk out into the living room.

As you step into the space, you pause at the sight before you. Heeseung has sprawled across the couch, the half-eaten waffle left hanging from his mouth, his eyes shut and small snores escaping him. It’s an adorable sight, and you can’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head in disbelief at how cute he looks.

You quickly grab your phone, snapping a picture of the moment before sending it off to Jake, knowing he would appreciate the humor of the situation once he sees it after class.

With a playful smirk, you approach Heeseung, carefully prying the half-eaten waffle from his mouth. As you do, you notice his shirt has ridden up slightly, exposing a sliver of skin. You gently pull it down, wanting to make him more comfortable. Then, you grab a nearby blanket and drape it over him, ensuring he stays warm.

Ruffling his messy hair affectionately, you step back to admire your handiwork, a fond smile gracing your lips. With Heeseung settled and blissfully unaware, you retreat back to your room, determined to continue your studying.

A little while later, as you immerse yourself in your notes, your phone buzzes with a notification. You glance at the screen, seeing Jake's name light up, and you can’t help but smile at the excited message he sent:

“OMG, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! Heeseung is literally draping himself over the couch like a cute baby sloth!”

You laugh, unable to help yourself as you imagine Jake’s exaggerated reactions. You quickly type back a response, “Right? He’s impossible! Just don’t tell him I took that photo.”

As the afternoon rolls around, you glance at the clock, realizing it’s time to get ready for work. You quietly shuffle around the apartment, careful not to wake Heeseung, who remains soundly asleep on the couch, still draped in the cozy blanket you had covered him with. You smile at the sight, finding it hard to resist the urge to snap another picture, but you decide to let him rest instead.

After changing into your work uniform, you grab your bag and head out, giving one last look at the peaceful scene before closing the door behind you. The chill of the air greets you as you make your way to the bus stop, excitement bubbling in your chest for the shift ahead.

Once you arrive at the sweet shop, you clock in and prepare for the bustling evening. Just as the bell above the door jingles, a wave of children floods in, their faces lighting up at the sight of colorful candies and pastries. You jump into action, serving up scoops of ice cream and filling bags with sugary treats, the cheerful chaos making the time fly by.

After what feels like hours, the rush of kids finally calms down, and you lean against the counter, wiping your brow with a sigh of relief. You chat with two of your colleagues, sharing stories and laughing about the antics of the day.

“Did you see the way that kid tried to sneak in an extra gummy bear?” one of them chuckles, mimicking the child’s guilty expression. You join in the laughter, easing the fatigue from your day.

Eventually, your shift comes to an end, and you clock out, tired but satisfied. As you take the bus home, you pull out your phone, ready to check messages. To your delight, you see a new notification from Jake. He’s sent you a picture, a selfie of him looking triumphant, with Heeseung still sprawled across the couch behind him, the blanket now haphazardly draped over his body.

You can’t help but laugh at the scene, Jake’s grin wide as he gives a thumbs-up, and you quickly save the picture to your phone.

“You’re not letting him sleep the whole day away, are you?” you text back, adding a laughing emoji to convey your playful tone.

Almost immediately, Jake replies, “Nah, I just let him be while I made some dinner. He’s gonna regret sleeping through the day!”

You smile at his enthusiasm, enjoying the banter as you make your way back to the apartment.

----

The days zoom by in a blur of laughter and warmth, transforming what started as an uncertain arrangement into a comfortable home.

Your first few weeks are filled with shared meals and movie nights, late-night chats about everything from favorite foods to secrets. Heeseung’s easy-going charm and Jake’s playful energy bring out the best in you, and you find yourself laughing more than you ever thought possible.

When you finally meet their friends—Ni-ki, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon, and Jay—you feel a mixture of nerves and excitement. Ni-ki, in particular, is quick-witted and charming, but you shoot Heeseung a warning glare, determined to keep your near mishap with the leftovers under wraps. To your relief, he complies, stifling laughter as you all share stories and get to know one another.

It’s surprising how easily you fit into this lively group, your personality blending seamlessly with theirs. Sunghoon and Sunoo’s humor keeps the atmosphere light, while Jungwon’s gentle nature balances it out perfectly. You also introduce them to your friends Wonyoung, Yunjin, Kyrell, and Yeonjung, and the two groups meld effortlessly, laughter and teasing filling the air whenever you all hang out together.

Despite your busy schedules—your classes, Jake’s shifts at the pet store and smoothie shop, and Heeseung’s late nights at the bar and his job at the sports store—there’s always time for fun. You all make a point to coordinate your schedules, planning outings that range from shopping sprees to casual movie marathons at home.

Amidst the joyful chaos, there comes a time when you begin to question your place between Jake and Heeseung. It’s subtle at first, just fleeting moments that flit past your consciousness like shadows. They both treat you with a warmth that feels more intimate than just roommates or friends.

Jake’s flirtation is often lighthearted and playful, a gentle tease that leaves you smiling longer than you should. He’ll come up behind you, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he watches whatever show you’re binging, the warmth of his body brushing against yours making your heart race. “What do you think about this one?” he’ll ask, his voice light, but there’s an underlying sincerity in his gaze that leaves you pondering what’s really behind his casual demeanor.

Heeseung, on the other hand, has a more physical way of expressing his affection. He’ll sneak up behind you while you’re washing dishes, his arms wrapping around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as he hums a tune. “What’s for dinner?” he’ll ask, his breath tickling your ear. The way he lingers there—so close, so familiar—sends a shiver down your spine. It feels like more than just a friendly embrace, a tenderness that wraps around you like a warm blanket.

It’s in these moments that you find yourself questioning the boundaries of your relationship. Are they just being friendly, or is there something deeper at play? You try to dismiss the thought, laughing off their behavior as just typical friend antics.

Then there are the times when Jake becomes almost puppy-like, trailing after you, eager to join in whatever you’re doing. “Can I help?” he’ll ask, hovering by your side while you prepare dinner, his eyes sparkling with excitement. There’s a softness in his gaze that makes you feel special, cherished in a way you hadn’t expected when you first moved in. And when you catch him stealing glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking, your heart skips a beat, your breath catching in your throat.

You wonder if they’re both feeling the same way, caught up in a strange blend of friendship and something more. The ambiguity weighs on you, and late at night, when you lie awake in your bed, you can’t help but replay their actions in your mind. Are you just imagining things? Do they see you as more than a roommate?

The days blend into a delightful routine, filled with laughter and playful banter. But beneath the surface, Jake and Heeseung have started to engage in a little game of their own, one that you’re blissfully unaware of. You can’t quite pinpoint when it began, but it becomes clear that they’ve both developed an interest in you that goes beyond friendship.

During one lazy afternoon, the three of you gather in the living room, the sun streaming through the large windows. You’re sprawled on the couch, engrossed in a book, when Jake plops down beside you. He leans over, peering at your pages with a mischievous grin. “You know, I could help you study,” he teases, his voice dropping to a lower, suggestive tone. “I’m a great tutor, especially with… hands-on experience.” You look up, caught off guard by his words, your cheeks flushing as you playfully shove him away.

Heeseung, who’s been lounging in the armchair across from you, raises an eyebrow. “What are you studying? Maybe I could lend a hand, too. I promise I won’t distract you—much.” He flashes you a charming smile that sends your heart racing, and you can’t help but laugh nervously, your mind racing as you try to focus on your book instead.

Later that week, you’re preparing dinner, humming to yourself as you chop vegetables. Suddenly, you feel a warm presence behind you. Jake sneaks up and leans against the counter, his arms crossed, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Need a sous chef?” he asks, leaning closer, his voice low and teasing. “I can stir the pot and keep you company at the same time.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes, but the warmth of his body so close to yours sends a jolt through you.

“Yeah, because that’s what I need right now,” you respond, your tone light but your heart betraying you as it races.

Heeseung strolls in just then, a knowing smile on his face as he catches the two of you. “Am i interrupting something?” he chides playfully, arching an eyebrow at Jake. You feel your cheeks heat up as the playful banter continues, and you can’t help but feel like the center of attention, albeit in a way that leaves you both flustered and exhilarated.

What you don’t realize is that behind the scenes, a little competition has begun. Jake and Heeseung have started making bets on who can get your attention first, whispering and laughing about it when they think you can’t hear. “I’ll bet you a smoothie I can make her blush before dinner,” Jake declares one day, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Heeseung chuckles, countering with, “You’re on. But I’ll raise you—I’ll bet you can’t make her laugh while doing it.”

These little moments of rivalry only heighten the flirtation. One afternoon, you’re lounging in the living room when Heeseung walks in wearing a fitted shirt that highlights his toned physique. He notices you staring and grins, leaning casually against the wall. “What? You like what you see?” he asks, his voice dripping with playful confidence. You can’t help but feel your cheeks burn as you stammer a response, the heat creeping up your neck as you try to find words.

“Shut up, Heeseung,” you manage, your laughter mingling with embarrassment, but he only chuckles, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

Then there are times when Jake gets a bit bolder. One evening, he finds you in your room, studying. He leans against the doorway, arms crossed, looking utterly relaxed yet undeniably handsome. “You know, if you need a study break, I’m really good at helping people… unwind,” he says, a teasing glint in his eye. You can feel your heart race, and your response gets caught in your throat, leaving you momentarily speechless.

As weeks turn into months, these playful exchanges become more frequent and more suggestive, leaving you in a constant state of fluster. They often playfully compete for your attention, showering you with flirty comments and lingering touches that send your heart racing.

It’s not just the comments that leave you flustered; it’s the way they both find excuses to be close to you. Jake will brush against you as he reaches for a snack, his fingers grazing yours in a way that feels charged with something more. Heeseung will lean in while you’re cooking, his breath warm against your neck as he whispers a playful remark, leaving you shivering with both surprise and delight.

One afternoon, after weeks of playful banter and flirtation from Jake and Heeseung, you decide it’s time to turn the tables. You’ve been thinking about how much fun it could be to throw a little flirting back their way, to see if they can handle a taste of their own medicine.

You wait until a Saturday when everyone is home. The living room is buzzing with energy as you all relax together, the sound of a movie playing softly in the background. Jake is sprawled across the couch, while Heeseung sits in the armchair, legs casually crossed and an easy smile on his face as he scrolls through his phone.

Feeling a rush of confidence, you take a deep breath and lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms and adopting a playful smirk. “You know,” you begin, drawing their attention, “I could really use some help getting my grades up. Maybe I should schedule some one-on-one study sessions with the both of you.”

Jake looks up, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, and Heeseung’s mouth curves into an amused smile. “Oh? Are you sure you can handle all this help?” Jake quips, his tone teasing, but you can see the flush creeping up his cheeks.

“Just think of it as an opportunity to show me your expertise,” you reply, maintaining eye contact with both of them as you saunter closer. You can feel the charged atmosphere as you lean casually against the arm of the couch, inching closer to Jake. “I could use some practical lessons.”

Heeseung sits up a little straighter, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Practical lessons? Sounds like someone is trying to get a little more than just academic help,” he retorts, the hint of a challenge in his voice. You can tell he’s intrigued by your sudden boldness.

“Oh, I definitely am,” you say with a playful wink, enjoying the way both of them are momentarily taken aback. “But only if you can keep up with me.” You’re met with stunned silence, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve gone too far. But then, Jake bursts out laughing, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“You’re on!” he declares, shooting you a cocky grin that ignites a flutter in your stomach. “But just so you know, I’m not going to go easy on you.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes in mock defeat, trying to maintain his cool demeanor. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you can’t keep up.” His voice is low and teasing, the challenge hanging in the air between you.

As the afternoon unfolds, you continue to flirt playfully with both of them, tossing comments back and forth. You compliment Jake on his “impressive knowledge” of pop culture, leaning in just a bit too close as you whisper about how his recommendations have been “so helpful.” You watch as his cheeks flush, caught off guard by your boldness.

Heeseung, not to be outdone, makes his own moves. “You know,” he says, his voice smooth, “if you want to study hard, you might need to take some breaks. I could think of some fun activities to fill those breaks.” He winks, and you can’t help but laugh at how easy it is to keep the teasing going.

The three of you end up in a lighthearted competition, each trying to out-flirt the other. You toss compliments like confetti, and they respond in kind, each line making the tension between you thick and exhilarating.

“Wow, I didn’t realize you two were so charming,” you remark, feigning innocence as you watch them squirm a little under your gaze. “Maybe I should have taken you up on that help sooner.”

Jake grins, leaning back against the couch with a newfound confidence. “Well, now you know. We can definitely provide the special assistance you need.”

You feel a rush of satisfaction at finally flipping the script. The laughter fills the room, punctuated by playful banter, and it feels good to see them flustered for a change, struggling to come up with responses to your flirty remarks.

Eventually, as the evening winds down, you sit back and bask in the warmth of their attention.

You’ve made your mark, and it’s clear that your flirty game has raised the stakes between you and your two charming roommates, setting the stage for whatever might come next.

----

The late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of your room, casting a warm glow as you returned home from work. Your phone buzzed with a notification, and you quickly glanced at the group chat. The excitement in the messages about a night out at a local club had your heart racing with anticipation. Without a second thought, you agreed to join, feeling a surge of energy at the prospect of a night filled with laughter and music.

You rushed to your closet, rifling through your clothes until you found the perfect outfit: a fitted black top that hugged your curves and a high-waisted skirt that accentuated your figure. You quickly changed and turned your attention to your makeup, after curling your hair into loose waves, you added a touch of glittering highlighter to your skin for that extra glow.

Grabbing a small, chic purse to carry your essentials, you made your way downstairs. As you descended, you spotted Heeseung standing in the living room, his back to you as he exchanged goodbyes with Jake, who lounged on the couch. Both of them turned as you approached, their expressions shifting from casual conversation to admiration.

Jake’s mouth fell slightly open, clearly impressed. “Where are you off to?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and admiration.

“The club,” you replied, a smile forming on your lips as you noticed the way Heeseung’s gaze lingered on you.

Before you could say anything else, Heeseung quickly chimed in, “I can drive you.” He moved toward the closet, retrieving another helmet with a casual ease that made your heart flutter. The prospect of riding on his motorcycle sent a thrill through you.

You nodded, excitement bubbling in your chest as you took the helmet from him. After throwing on a short jacket to ward off the evening chill, you turned to Jake. “See you later!” you called out, waving goodbye. He still looked slightly dazed, clearly caught off guard by your transformation.

You followed Heeseung down to the parking lot, the anticipation of the ride sparking in the air around you. As he climbed onto his motorcycle, you felt a rush of adrenaline. You slipped on the helmet, securing it snugly before getting on behind him. As you wrapped your arms around his waist, the warmth of his body seeped through your jacket, and he started the bike, the engine rumbling beneath you.

With a twist of the throttle, you felt the bike lurch forward, and you leaned into Heeseung’s back as he expertly maneuvered through the streets. The cool wind whipped past, sending a shiver through your exposed skin, but you didn’t mind; the thrill of the ride was invigorating.

The ride to the club was quick, the familiar streets flying by as you soaked in the freedom of the moment.

As you both arrived at the club, the vibrant energy of the nightlife buzzed around you, the pulsing music spilling out into the cool evening air. You hopped off the motorcycle, feeling exhilarated, and removed your helmet, shaking your hair loose and letting it cascade down. Just then, a group of drunken guys standing outside caught sight of you, their eyes lighting up in appreciation.

“Hey there, beautiful!” one of them hollered, followed by a chorus of wolf whistles. “Looking good! I’d love to have you hugging me from behind like that!” Their comments were laced with crude humor, and you felt a grimace form on your lips as you rolled your eyes in annoyance.

Before you could respond, Heeseung had already dismounted his bike, removing his helmet and stepping forward with a glare aimed at the group. “Back off!” he shouted, his tone sharp and commanding, making it clear he wouldn’t tolerate their disrespect. The guys exchanged wary glances but quickly retreated, their bravado faltering under Heeseung’s fierce expression.

You let out a small sigh of relief, thankful for his protective instinct, and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the entrance of the club. “Come on, you gotta clock in,” you urged, eager to escape the unwanted attention. As you reached the door, you noticed your friends waiting just outside, their faces lighting up at the sight of you.

With a friendly wave, you called out to them before turning back to Heeseung. The bouncer, recognizing him, waved you both through without hesitation, allowing you and your friends to enter the lively club atmosphere.

As you stepped inside, the beat of the music enveloped you, and the dazzling lights danced around the room, pulling you into the vibrant nightlife. Heeseung squeezed your hand gently before letting go, heading toward the bar to start his shift.

----

The night had unraveled into a blur of laughter, music, and drinks, with you and your friends dancing under the flashing lights, letting loose in a way you hadn’t in a while. You’d managed to get a couple of cheap—or even free—drinks thanks to Heeseung working behind the bar. Every time you looked over, he would give you a quick wink or a grin, sending another round your way.

And you weren’t short on attention either, noticing that a few guys in the club were more than happy to flirt. Their compliments and eager smiles were flattering, and you enjoyed the easygoing fun of it all. Still, as your friends leaned in to shout in your ear over the music, you noticed something: Heeseung’s gaze wasn’t just casually lingering. He was watching, his eyes sharp, his attention shifting from you to each new guy who tried his luck.

At one point, a guy offered to buy you a drink, and you agreed with a polite smile, following him over to the bar. As he ordered, Heeseung’s expression changed, his smile a touch too tight.

He set both drinks on the bar with an innocent smile, and you took a sip of yours, which tasted surprisingly perfect. But the guy next to you sputtered, coughing immediately as he spat his drink out, splattering a bit on your sleeve. He turned, red-faced, looking horrified.

“Why is this so… spicy?” he demanded, voice hoarse. Heeseung kept his face impassive, busying himself with a rag and the counter.

You couldn’t hold back a giggle as you watched Heeseung discreetly nudge the hot sauce bottle further under the counter, his lips twitching into a smile as the guy stomped off, grumbling. Not a minute later, you headed for the restroom, shaking your head in amusement at Heeseung’s antics.

In the quiet of the restroom, you took a moment to breathe, glancing at your reflection in the mirror. You slipped off your jacket, draping it over a nearby hook, revealing the full outfit you'd carefully chosen for tonight. The cool air in the room brushed against your exposed skin, a reminder of how much thought you'd put into tonight's look.

You ran a hand over your clothes, smoothing out any creases, then turned to check your makeup. With a practiced hand, you reapplied a touch of lip gloss and adjusted your eyeliner.

As you strolled back into the club, the pulsing lights and thumping bass surrounded you, momentarily drowning out your thoughts. You barely glanced at the guy from earlier, who was now fully engrossed in conversation with another girl, when your gaze was irresistibly drawn to the bar.

There stood Heeseung and Jake, leaning casually against the polished counter. Jake wore a pair of fitted jeans that hugged his form just right and a simple shirt that accentuated his toned physique. His hair was pushed back effortlessly. Heeseung was a perfect match, dressed in jeans as well, but opted for a sleek black t-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders. His hair was also slicked back now.

The moment they turned their attention to you, their eyes locked onto you with an intensity that left you momentarily breathless. You couldn’t help but feel a rush of surprise and excitement at seeing them both here, looking so undeniably handsome.

Heeseung’s gaze was unblinking, a flicker of something bold and daring mixed in with his usual confident smirk. His posture was casual, one hand braced against the bar while the other rested on his hip, but his eyes… they seemed to trace over you with a slow, almost deliberate sweep, lingering a second too long. The defiance in his smirk spoke volumes, as if daring anyone else to look at you the way he was. There was a possessive glint in his eyes, as if he was barely holding himself back from reaching out.

Then there was Jake, whose gaze held a different kind of heat. His eyes softened as they traveled from your face down to your outfit, then back up. He took in every detail—your makeup, the way your clothes clung to your figure, the glint of confidence in your eyes. When he met your gaze again, his lips curled into a grin, the warmth of his smile undercut by the intensity in his eyes. It was as though he was studying every inch of you, and his lips curved, like he knew exactly how captivating he found you.

You caught a brief exchange of glances between the two of them, each sizing up the other’s reaction, before they turned their focus back to you, their eyes following every step you took. Their shared gaze left you feeling bare, like they were both trying to pull you closer without needing to say a word.

“Well, well, here comes trouble,” Jake teased, his voice low and smooth, though the smile he wore was anything but innocent. He raised his glass to you, his eyes reflecting that warmth that always made you feel seen—but there was something else tonight, a sharper edge to the way he looked at you, as if he was waiting to see how you’d respond to their attention.

Heeseung’s smirk only deepened, a spark of mischief flickering in his gaze as he straightened a little, his posture shifting subtly closer. He kept his eyes locked on yours, every part of him seemed to radiate a daring energy, as though daring you to close the distance between you.

With a steadying breath, you made your way to the bar, fully aware of Jake and Heeseung's gazes. As you reached them, Heeseung leaned forward, elbows propped on the bar, his smirk never faltering, while Jake wasted no time slipping an arm around your waist, pulling you close with that effortless charm he wore so well.

"Dressed to impress,” Heeseung drawled, his tone laced with amusement as he gave you another lingering look, head tilting as if to take in every inch. “Gonna be a distraction all night, aren’t you?”

Jake tightened his hold on your waist, bringing you even closer, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “He’s just jealous because you look this good, and he’s stuck working.” His voice was smooth, and his breath sent a warm shiver down your neck. “Right, Heeseung?”

Heeseung scoffed but didn’t pull back, the gleam in his eyes only intensifying. “I think I’ll manage,” he shot back, but his eyes never left you, tracing the subtle way you leaned into Jake’s embrace. “Besides, it looks like you’re already in good hands.”

Feeling bold, you turned to face Heeseung fully, resting one hand on the counter as you smiled, the challenge in your eyes clear. “Is that a hint of jealousy I hear?”

He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “Only if you’d do something about it,” he replied, his gaze unflinching, taunting. He reached over, his fingers brushing lightly over yours where they rested on the bar. “Think you could handle both of us?”

Before you could respond, Jake chuckled softly, his arm around you tightening, as he glanced over at Heeseung. “Oh, she can handle anything we throw at her,” he teased, his eyes locking on yours with a hint of something darker. “Right?”

You laughed softly, finding yourself delighting in their attention, the playful tension between them only adding to the thrill. Heeseung shook his head, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest, while Jake’s fingers absently traced along your waist, making it clear he wasn’t planning to let you go anytime soon.

You leaned closer to Jake, letting him feel the warmth of your smile against his cheek. “Oh, I can handle you two just fine,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, but you knew they both heard it. The shift in their expressions told you enough—they were both thoroughly captivated.

Heeseung exhaled a low laugh, eyes twinkling with intrigue, while Jake’s hand at your waist stilled, his grip firm, like he wasn’t about to let you out of his sight for the rest of the night.

Jake tilted his head just slightly, the corners of his mouth curving up in a half-smile. “Is that so?” he murmured, his voice low, almost daring. He let his gaze drift slowly over your face, down to your lips, and then back to your eyes.

Heeseung watched, clearly enjoying the exchange, a slow, amused grin spreading across his face. He leaned across the bar, his gaze locked on yours as he teased, “Guess we’ll have to test that out, then. Wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable.” His voice was smooth, the subtle challenge in his words matched by the spark in his eyes.

Feeling both their gazes, you couldn’t help the little smile that played on your lips. You leaned slightly closer to Jake, keeping eye contact with Heeseung as you replied, “Maybe it’s you two who won’t be able to keep up.”

Jake let out a breathy chuckle, but his eyes never left you, even as he responded, “We’ll see about that.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained but also intrigued, and he nodded in agreement, watching as Jake held you close. With an easy grin, he said, “I think you’ll keep us busy.” He reached out to hand you a drink, fingers brushing against yours in the brief exchange, his eyes lingering on you.

You took a sip, feeling their attention wrap around you like a warmth that made the crowded club fall away.

Just as Jake’s hand tightened on your waist, you felt a tug from behind—your friends, appearing at just the right moment, grinning as they coaxed you toward the dance floor.

“Come on!” they called, laughter in their voices. Before either Jake or Heeseung could react, you slipped from Jake’s hold with a wink. Both of them stared after you, looking mildly stunned—and maybe just a bit thrown off by how easily you’d gotten away. Jake tried to reach for you, a playful protest on his lips, but your friends swept you into their midst, pulling you into the rhythm of the music.

On the dance floor, you let yourself get lost in the energy, moving in time with the pulsing beat. You stole a glance back at the bar, where both Heeseung and Jake were watching intently, as if sizing up their next move. Heeseung raised his drink to you, that confident smirk still plastered on his face, while Jake looked torn between amusement and a slight, playful irritation at your escape.

Laughing, you lost yourself in the music, feeling their gazes follow your every move.

----

The night took an unexpected turn when one of your friends became a little too enthusiastic with the drinks. Before you knew it, she was outside, hunched over on the sidewalk, throwing up. You quickly moved to her side, pulling her hair back and rubbing her shoulder, doing your best to soothe her as she mumbled apologies.

Once she was done, the group decided it was best to get her home. You all piled into a car, the designated driver taking the wheel while the rest of you kept a close eye on your friend.

When you reached her place, you carefully helped her inside, guiding her up to her bedroom and laying her down, making sure she was comfortable. With her settled, someone found a stash of drinks in the kitchen, and before long, the vibe had lightened back up. One friend pulled out a karaoke machine, and soon everyone was singing loud, off-key renditions of your favorite songs, letting the night carry you all along.

As the hours ticked by, one by one, everyone found a cozy spot to curl up, and before you knew it, the house was filled with the soft sounds of snores and murmured dreams, a blur of a night settling into a peaceful sleep.

----

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and the usual regret that came with a night like this. Squinting against the morning light filtering in through the window, you groaned, reaching for your phone. Your notifications were littered with messages and missed calls from both Jake and Heeseung. You smiled a little, heart warming at their worry, even if it made you feel a bit guilty.

You dialed Jake’s number, and he answered almost immediately. “Where are you?” he asked, his voice filled with relief and lingering worry. “Are you okay?”

"Yeah, I’m okay," you mumbled, rubbing your forehead. “I’m at my friend’s place. She got a bit… too drunk, so we crashed here for the night.”

Jake exhaled, sounding both relieved and a little exasperated. “Alright, just hang tight. I’ll come get you.”

You thanked him, already feeling a bit better just knowing he’d be there soon. After the call, you stumbled to the kitchen, grabbing a water bottle and downing some Advil. You checked on your friends, giving soft goodbyes to those who were half-awake and murmuring farewells to the ones still knocked out.

Stepping outside, you saw Jake’s car pull up, and you hurried over to climb in. As you slipped into the backseat, you noticed both Jake and Heeseung in the front seats, eyes full of concern as they looked you over.

“Good?” Jake asked, glancing up and down to check on you. You nodded, managing a small smile as he pulled away from the curb.

When you finally got back home, Jake parked and turned to open your door, but Heeseung beat him to it, sweeping you up in his arms so you wouldn’t have to walk barefoot on the pavement. You laughed, feeling a bit like royalty as Jake carried your heels and purse alongside.

Once inside, they led you straight to the bathroom, letting you shower and wash away the remnants of the night. As you closed the door, you couldn’t help but feel grateful, a smile spreading across your face as you let the hot water soothe away the morning’s aches.

After finishing your shower, you called out for one of them to bring you some clothes. “Hey, could you grab me something to wear?”

A moment later, Heeseung’s voice came through the slightly cracked bathroom door. “I got you.” You heard a rustling, and then he slid a pile of clothes through the gap. You reached out, taking them gratefully.

“Thanks!” you replied, quickly pulling on the comfy oversized shirt and sweatpants. Once you had dried your hair with a towel, you opened the bathroom door to find both Jake and Heeseung sprawled out on the couch, looking cozy under a soft blanket.

You joined them, settling down in the middle, feeling the warmth radiating from both of them. They shifted slightly, making room for you as you grabbed some popcorn from the bowl resting on Jake's lap. The familiar comfort of their presence wrapped around you like a warm hug, and you let out a content sigh as you nestled deeper into the cushions.

The movie played on, but your eyelids grew heavier by the minute. The soft light from the screen flickered in the dim room, casting gentle shadows over their faces. You leaned your head against Heeseung's shoulder, feeling his warmth seep into you.

As the movie continued, you felt Jake's hand brush against yours, and his fingers intertwined with yours, a comforting gesture that lulled you further into relaxation.

Eventually, the movie ended, and you barely noticed Jake turning it off. Heeseung glanced down at you, noticing how peaceful you looked, and he exchanged a knowing look with Jake. They both smiled softly before leaning back against the couch, pulling you with them.

Before long, the three of you were all asleep, the quiet hum of the world outside fading into a blissful silence as you cuddled together.

----

The atmosphere in your room was relaxed and comfortable as the three of you lounged together, the glow of fairy lights casting a soft ambiance. You felt a sense of warmth and belonging, but there was an unspoken question hanging in the air—what was this dynamic you had built with Jake and Heeseung?

After a while, you turned to them, curiosity piquing your interest. “So, what do we call this? This… thing we have going on?”

They both exchanged glances, a playful light dancing in their eyes before they climbed into your bed. Heeseung settled on your right side, while Jake nestled to your left, and you found yourself sandwiched between them.

“We like you a lot,” Heeseung confessed, his voice low and sincere, “and we’d love to have you for ourselves. But we also don’t want to see you with any other guy.”

Jake nodded, chiming in, “Yeah, same here. We both want you.” He paused, his expression serious. “At the end of the day, we’d rather share you than lose you to someone else.”

Your heart raced as you processed their words. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling warmth spread through you at their admissions. “But wouldn’t one of you get jealous of the other?”

“No,” Heeseung said, his tone firm yet gentle. “We both love you, and that’s what matters. You belong to both of us.”

As you gazed at them, a flutter of excitement and apprehension filled your chest. “I— I’ve been unsure about this. It feels wrong to like two friends at the same time.”

Jake pouted, tapping his lips thoughtfully. “Doesn’t seem wrong if we like you at the same time,” he reasoned, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You found your gaze drawn to his lips, swallowing hard. The tension in the room shifted, and Heeseung noticed, a teasing smirk creeping onto his face. “Looks like someone’s interested,” he quipped, nudging your shoulder playfully.

“I am not—” you started to protest, but before you could finish, Jake leaned in, closing the gap between you. His lips pressed against yours, soft yet insistent, and you gasped in surprise before instinctively kissing him back.

The moment was electric, and as Jake deepened the kiss, Heeseung leaned closer, trailing kisses along your throat. The sensation sent shivers down your spine as he nipped playfully at your skin, and you couldn’t help but let out another gasp, caught between the two of them.

Jake pulled back from the kiss, his grin widening as his gaze landed on the marks Heeseung had left on your throat and the exposed skin of your shoulder. The contrast of their playful possessiveness sent a thrill coursing through you, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks.

“We have to show you that you’re ours,” he declared, his voice laced with a mix of mischief and determination.

Before you could fully process what that meant, both of them leaned in closer, their intentions clear. You gasped as Heeseung pressed his lips against your neck, his mouth warm and insistent as he began to leave his mark. Jake mirrored his actions on the other side, nipping and kissing a trail that made your head spin.

You whimpered at the sensation, the combined heat of their mouths igniting a fire deep within you. Your fingers tangled in their hair, gripping tightly as you succumbed to the intoxicating wave of pleasure and need. The soft sounds of your enjoyment filled the room, and you could hardly think straight as they lavished attention on your sensitive skin.

“Yours,” you breathed out, the word slipping from your lips as they continued their ministrations, creating a symphony of sweet tension and fervent desire. Each gentle tug and nibble sent shivers racing through you, and you could feel your heart pounding in rhythm with their touches.

“Just like this,” Heeseung murmured against your skin, his breath hot and teasing. “You’re ours.”

Jake's hands roamed down your arms, his fingers trailing along the exposed skin, amplifying the sensations coursing through you. The way they worked together, each touch calculated yet spontaneous, made you feel cherished and desired in a way you had never experienced before.

Heeseung's hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as he pressed his lips against yours. You instinctively grabbed his bicep, fingers digging into the firm muscles as you deepened the kiss, losing yourself in the moment. It felt right; the heat between you was undeniable, intoxicating. His kisses were fervent, each one making you crave more, driving you to the brink of madness.

Meanwhile, Jake positioned himself on the other side, his fingers weaving into your hair as he leaned in to claim your now vacant lips as well. The sensation of his mouth on yours was electrifying, and you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Your grip tightened around his neck, anchoring yourself as he kissed you with a mix of urgency and devotion.

In that tangled mess of limbs and kisses, they continued to explore every inch of your skin they could reach, marking you with their lips and leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

Heeseung's kisses danced along your collarbone, trailing lower to your shoulder, each gentle nibble igniting a new spark of desire. His hands roamed your sides, fingertips brushing just beneath the hem of your shirt, teasingly inching upward as if he were mapping out every curve of your body.

Jake, on the other hand, his hands glided down your back, holding you against him as if he never wanted to let go. He would pull you closer, the heat radiating off him intoxicating. With each kiss he pressed to your lips, he’d angle your head just right, deepening the kiss and making you melt.

As Heeseung’s mouth found its way back to yours, he captured your lips in a heated kiss, his tongue teasingly brushing against yours. It was playful yet fervent, drawing soft moans from you as you surrendered to the sensations. Your hands were restless, instinctively roaming to their arms, gripping tightly as you sought to anchor yourself in the overwhelming pleasure.

With every caress, they exchanged knowing glances, a silent agreement to share this moment entirely. Jake leaned down, kissing a path from your shoulder to your neck, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin while Heeseung took his turn, trailing kisses down your jawline. You gasped at the sensations, feeling completely lost in the ecstasy of it all.

“We’ll take care of you.” Heeseung murmured between kisses, his breath hot against your ear.

Jake’s hand slipped beneath your shirt, his fingertips brushing against your bare skin, sending shivers coursing through your body. “Yeah, we’re not letting you out of our sight,” he added, his tone both playful and serious.

Your mind raced with thoughts, a delightful confusion enveloping you as you relished in their attention. All you could focus on was the pleasure they were giving you, the way their bodies enveloped you.

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adhd-fandom-hyperfocus · 22 hours ago

Text

Secret Box

Sorry no fancy formatting or anything here. I got sudden inspired to write this from an anon @moodymisty got Tagging @kit-williams because I know Mr. Turbo is her man Warnings: Hints of NSFW stuff at the very end. Sorry if Turbo sounds ooc I haven't written him at all before so be kind. Also, did not proofread this. MINOR DNI

"Oh I don't know, I would be unhappy too if all I had to was tear things down and war. Maybe he wants to something else?"

"What do you mean? He seems quite happy breaking things."

He watched you frown so deeply, "My little bother was like that, everyone thought he like being mad. Just did not know how to convey his feelings, and felt like he had to stay under father's thumb. But he really just wanted to be an artist. I loved his art!"

"I didn't know you had a brother, where is he?"

"Dead. Died angry and lonely because father wanted a soldier."

His furious hearts stopped in his chest. You saw him. You did not realize it, but you did. It scared him, mad him want to rage and break you. It made him want to keep you close. Show you those things he wanted to forget.

***

"What in the Emperor's name is that?"

"Oh one of those puzzle boxes, some call them secret boxes because once you open them you can keep little important secrets in them!" your smile makes his head spin and his stomach lurch.

He wanted you to smile at him like that more. He needed you to talk to him about the silly little boxes.

"Why do you have so many? They seem pointless, we do not have anything to keep in them."

"Oh, I am far too stupid to open them, but I find them beautiful, each one looks different, opens differently, and all so complex, like people!"

***

Weeks he slaved over his workbench, keeping this secret to all, which was made easy when got the small chance to engage with you. Or most commonly, watch you interact with others, needed to make sure you didn't give his secrets away; at least he tried to convince himself of that.

You thought yourself stupid, but you figured him out in a way not even the damn Emperor himself could. What looked so simple was perhaps the most complex of all.

You wanted to see the art he could create that wasn't for war, how his mind could do if allowed to run free. Called his work art, like it was something to also marvel at.

The primarch looked over his newest creation, the small box was intricate in it's design, how he liked things. But it was what was inside that made his chest feel weak, and yet made him powerful all the same. The primarch of iron was feeling himself soften at the heat that had made a permanent home in his lower abdomen.

When he presented the box to you he did not say he made it, refused to. But as he explained his lie, the look you cast at him shocked him. You knew his bluff. Of course you did.

"Well, whoever made this is a true master! I have never seen something to beautiful before, thank you my lord," you smile up at him, letting him keep his pride and secret, "I know you are a busy man, but should you remember who made this could you be so kind to your serf and tell me?"

Prutabo grunted and nodded, "If I feel so inclined. Let me know if and when you open it."

***

Days and weeks pass and you keep him updated with your progress, he makes comments that hint he isn't too interested, after all someone of his genius would have opened it already. You agree, but you won't give up. You determination makes his hearts feel like they are in knots. How happy and joyful you are over his little toy. The fun you find in testing yourself only just to say you did it. The moments of you updating him live inside his dreams, where he is brave enough to hold your hand and smile back.

The crusade had called him away and like always it kept him longer than anyone else. While his brothers got to reap all the glory he was cleanup, or the brunt hammer to break wills. So of course when the Lord of Iron returned everyone scattered. Hid like cowards.

Not you. Even with him exuding even more of his dour demeanor you came running up to him. Puzzle box in hand.

"My Lord! I know you just returned, but I have been waiting for teran weeks for you to return." you were overflowing with excitement; practically vibrating with it.

It was like a disease that spread quickly, because as you spoke his ire cooled. You were happy he was home.

"Make it quick." though he hoped you took as long as you wanted.

"I am about to open the box, and I wanted to open it with you!" you grin up at him coming closer, "Exciting right?"

You...waited for him. Wanted to share in his happiness with...Throne he thought he was going to burst out of his armor and into flames.

"For someone who cannot easily solve things, I suppose. Well, open it." he grumbled, fighting to keep his mask on.

As you moved the last piece into place and opened the lid, a centerpiece rose up, and thereupon it was a metal sculpting of morning glories rising up and in bloom, the spun slowly as music played. And resting inside the main flower was a small ring, designed to look like vines holding a blooming rose the held a pink diamond.

Oh the look upon your face he would have waited lifetimes just to see it. It made this little box the greatest thing he would ever fashion.

"My Lord...I...forgive me, my words are failing." you whisper still marveling at the spinning flowers, "I love morning glories..."

Perturabo nodded, "I am aware. I do listen..." he wanted to know about the ring, wanted you to wear it.

Let everyone know you were his. That you wanted to be his.

Tears well up in your eyes as you so gingerly take the ring. Without needing to ask he gently holds the box so you might place it upon one of your fingers. He watches intently as you try various fingers before putting it upon your ring finger.

"My..."

"Perturabo. You can call me by my name...should you wish to continue to wear that ring." he spoke so very softly for himself.

Thorne, he needed you to keep it on.

"I will, Perturabo," you say his name to see how it rolls off your tongue and it sounds like heaven to him.

When this crusade is over he will fill this place with sounds of your and his children, and he will cast off all this cold machinery for things that truly mattered to him. Being a toy maker in one's spare time wasn't such a foolish notion. He would not die like your brother, and leave you alone.

"Are you sure you want...I mean... I am a serf, people will talk and I do not want to tarnish your name." you whisper to him, eyes fixed on the ring.

"They would be foolish to speak of it where I can hear." was all he offered.

Your small hands slip over his covered in his massive gauntlets, and he was trembling to get this armor off.

"My Lady, if it pleases you," his voice low and he leaned in close so no other could hear, "I wish to remove this armor, if you would wait for me in my chambers..." he couldn't believe he was doing this! Smoothness and words were not his strong points, but for you, he would try, "There is a puzzle I would like to get to know intimately, work with my hands, would you be willing?"

His face burned as he waited what felt like eons for you to reply. Was this all too much too fast? Was he being a fool?

You take the music puzzle box from him and when you pull back you are smiling with cheeks as flushed as his, "I would love that. Now go before your men see you this shade of red and not yelling. I do not want to ruin your reputation." you tease

Perturabo smiled, "You, I will allow to ruin me." he said before tearing off to get this damn armor off.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #perturabo #amon writes

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lemoniiiiiii · 10 hours ago

Note

need a colin zabel fic where you are his annoying co worker yapping about your day while sitting on his desk (and on his files) swinging your feet and accidentally brushing your foot against his inner thigh and it makes things very much awkward and definitely brings up many feelings to the surface🩷

one on one

(colin zabel x reader) in where bothering your favorite co-worker results in something more than you expected... content: fluff, colin being a tired cutie a/n: this request was sooooo cute, thank you for sending it in! i love writing this man he's the sweetest ever.

"hey, you’re back!" you say, standing from your desk as colin walks past. without a second thought, you fall into step beside him, weaving through the bustling precinct as the noise of ringing phones and low chatter surrounds you.

"hey, y/l/n," he murmurs, glancing at you briefly before his eyes go back to the case file in his hand.

"a bunch of us are heading to the bar tonight," you say, nudging him lightly. "you in?"

he sighs, his shoulders slumping just a little. "uh… i don’t think i can—"

"colin, c'mon." you raise an eyebrow, keeping your tone light but insistent.

"i’m alright, really."

"seriously," you say, quickening your pace to get ahead of him, backing into his office until you feel the hard edge of his desk and hop up onto it. "that case can wait. you need a break, or you’re gonna burn out and be no use to anyone."

he stops short, eyes narrowing a bit, and lifts an eyebrow. "you’re sitting on my files."

"i… realize that now," you say with a small, sheepish smile. "but this works in my favor. i haven’t seen you all day. can we just talk for a minute?"

knowing you won’t take no for an answer, colin sighs, placing the file in his hand beside you, signaling that you have his attention. you launch into your day—going over the calls you took, the quirky regulars, and the case you were working on. but after a while, you notice colin’s mind has drifted; he’s listening, but his focus is… somewhere else, his arms crossed, brow furrowed.

"earth to zabel—hello?" you nudge his leg playfully, and just then he snaps out of it, seeming to have had some realization. he reaches for his files, but you shift to block his path, mirroring his movements.

"colin."

he stops, and without thinking, you place a hand on his chest to balance yourself on the desk's edge. the warmth and firmness catch you off guard, and when his gaze drops to your hand, then meets yours, heat rises to your cheeks. he’s waiting for you to say something, but all you can think about is… well, him.

"someone’s been working out…" you mumble, barely realizing the words have slipped out.

colin blinks, his own face turning red. "um, what?"

oh god, did you really just say that out loud?

"nothing—sorry." you stammer, quickly removing your hand.

he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "well, i'm glad someone noticed. didn’t think it was showing yet."

"that makes it sound like you're pregnant"

"i- you know what i mean"

"anyways… uh—are you coming tonight?" you ask, watching as colin moves around to the other side of his desk, meticulously organizing a pile of files. he seems almost too focused on straightening the edges and aligning them, as if using the task to avoid your question.

finally, he looks up, giving you apologetic smile. "rain check?"

you groan in exaggerated disappointment, crossing your arms. "seriously?"

"hey—tell you what." he points at you with a small grin, as if making an official deal. "i'll take you to that, er, new place downtown you’ve been wantin' to try."

you blink, surprised. that restaurant was fancier than you’d expected him to suggest. "that’s… expensive," and intimate, you think, though you keep that part to yourself.

colin shrugs, nonchalant. "it's no problem," he says, then quickly adds, "i mean, of course, only if you're comfortable. we can just hit the bar or whatever if that's more your style."

you can't quite figure out how to respond to that, so you fall back on your usual banter. “you sure you want more one-on-one time with me?”

his expression shifts in an instant, eyes widening as he realizes how his offer sounds—like he just asked you out on a real, actual dinner date. he flushes a little, rubbing the back of his neck once again. "is that… is that a problem?" he asks, the tone of his voice dropping slightly.

you tilt your head, feeling mischevious now that the tables have turned. "not really," you say with a grin. "for me, at least. you, on the other hand… well, you’re about to lose that whole ‘working out’ physique pretty fast.”

he laughs a little. "i think i’ll survive."

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @quickreider @tiffysdeath @honeymoon8 @wcnderlnds @lacucarachapisser @xrag-dollx @oceanblvd111 @andiloveher @vi0l3tgard3ns

#someone sees you and him at the restaurant (cause yk small town) and the next day the whole precinct is whispering about it #you try and say you're just friends but c'mon who's believing THAT #colin zabel #mare of easttown #colin zabel x reader #evan peters #evan peters smut #evan peters fandom #evan peters x reader #evan peters fanfic

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hell-drabbles · 2 days ago

Text

Beleth 1

Summary: After a fight cut short with a random devil that thought you nothing more than a pest, you take a break outside the club. Beleth joins you and offers to have you bite into his skin to get the stress out.

(Fingers decided to write about Beleth instead. So I did. Here be the Companion biting Beleth! Also I just figured out that apparently Beleth and his king are fallen angels? I could be wrong but oh well. Here you go.)

There was this… specific closeness you felt towards Beleth. An understanding, if you will.

Something, whenever you two end up alone in any sort of area, the air between you two never fails to remind you of those late night hours behind a bar club. Where you're all tired from the atmosphere, and just need a moment of quiet where you can recharge, and someone comes out to do the exact same thing.

A kinship. Yeah that's what it was. You felt a kinship towards Beleth, with both of you caring for someone that can barely take care of themselves.

It's why it didn't tick you off when Beleth walked into your break spot in the alleyway. He's another person that pays attention to Ra-on, certainly, but there was this lack of visible and verbal annoyance at your being. You're just another person, as far as he's concerned, and that's enough to keep your temper even.

While you sat on the ground, just taking in the sky, Beleth took up position near you, also looking up with you. He fished for his box of cigarettes and popped out one. He grabbed it with his lips, flicked open his lighter and lit it up. He took one deep breath in, then out.

From the corner of your eye, Beleth inclined his head towards you.

"Want one?" Beleth leaned down, tapping the open box against your shoulder.

To be quite honest, you were a little tempted to take a drag. It's been a long day, the battle before had tensions high and the devils inside the club wanted nothing more than to dance, drink and fuck the feelings away. And not only that, but you had just come out of a fight with a random devil that said, "Aren't you glad I got that pest off of you, Solomon?"

He got a full wine bottle to the face, and the ensuing noise got all the other devils riled up enough to beating at one another. Well, at least they're having fun, and you got to avoid facing the full brunt of that devil's strength. And having Ra-on skitter right behind you certainly helped in having him hold back. Your ribs are still throbbing, however. Damn devils and their damned power.

"Quite a fight you started in there. Everyone's rowdy, having the time of their lives I bet." Beleth said with a breath of smoke slowly trickling out of his lips.

"Mm-hmm," you replied, because what else are you supposed to say? Are you supposed to be proud of it? That you started yet another fight because you can't stand to let words slide?

"But hey, that anger of yours, it's going to get ya into a lot of trouble." Like you're already not in trouble? "I'm not complainin', I reckon it's something you need to do to stay sane, given how you are, but that doesn't mean it make you safe."

"…tell me something I don't know." You were hoping he wouldn't dive into that subject. You know it's reckless. You know you can't keep this up and rely on luck to save the day once again. But you're just too stubborn. Besides, you know that the minute you go lax is the day you'll lose Ra-on forever. This stubbornness is exactly why Ra-on's been learning to say no more and more often.

"I know you got injured somethin' fierce the other day. You're still walkin' like you have a stitch in your side. And that fight you got into? Can't say it's made you any better. It's got me worried, ya know? Especially since pain just makes you angrier."

You gave a sigh, right from the bottom of your lungs. First Ra-on--whom you were barely able to divert his attention--and now Beleth? And you're pretty sure that changing the subject won't work on him.

Alright. Fine.

"So, I should just shut up them? Is that what you're telling me, Beleth?" Are you supposed to shut your mouth forever? Swallow down all your pride and anger and just take it until the situation in Hell is solved?

"Get angry at me. I won't kiss and tell."

"…really?" That's his solution?

"Yeah. Yell and scream until your heart gives out. I'll listen to your howls any day of the week. Just say the word, I'll try and be there for you, Sugar."

"That's not gonna solve shit. Don't call me Sugar." You still have to shut your mouth and behave.

"Sorry there, but it's the best I've got. You're human, right? Just gather up all that anger, call me up, and give it to me in one go. And who knows? Maybe I'll take care of some of the problem devils that have been tying you up in knots? Besides, it's better than nothing, right?"

"Stay quiet." You're too tired, too burnt out for this.

"Alright, alright."

When silence settled between the both of you, you adjusted yourself, positioning in such a way that doesn't put pressure on your ribs.

"Hey, I wanna ask you a question." Beleth suddenly says, flicking ash on the ground with a relaxed curve to his back, smiling at you with a tilt to his head.

"Hmm, shoot." What does he want now?

"Wanna make out?" He popped open another button on his shirt, letting the flaps fall open as though to entice you into taking his offer.

"No." It didn't work.

Beleth shrugged, as though very much expecting it. "Hey, worth a try."

He didn't bother closing his shirt. Instead, he completely undid his buttons and untucked his shirt. Once he was done, he leaned against the wall you were sitting against, took a slow drag in, then breathed it out. The wind took the smoke away from you.

Beleth turned to you and smiled. He tapped one of the various bite marks on his arm. "Wanna sink your teeth into my skin, then? You can pick any place you want. Even," he parted his shirt, letting the rays of the dying sun hit his well bitten chest, "here. I know you won't hold back."

"…you're really bored aren't you?"

"Hey, can ya blame me for wantin' to fill up my time? Smokin' always gets me in a certain mood."

And he smokes all the damn time, so what does that say? You're both creatures of rather bad habits.

…besides you may as well get a bite in. You've been grinding your teeth anyway.

"…you know what, yeah, fine." You stood up and patted dirt off your pants. "Let me just drag a seat or something out here. I'll have you sitting on my lap for this."

The cigarette hung between Beleth's fingers as he exposed his neck, gazing up at the sky as you dug your hands into his thin waist. You smoothed your lips over the raised skin of his scar, just taking a moment to enjoy both the different textures and way Beleth's throat bobbed with his swallow.

"That's a talented pair of lips you got there," you can hear the smile in the way he wistfully sighed, "Ya really know how to rile a devil up, huh? Taking your sweet time with me like this. Didn't ya want just a bite?"

Beleth jumped in your lap when you took a small nip, then pulled back. You looked at him square in the eyes, at that lightly flushed face, parted lips, and small annoyed crease in his brows.

"I like messing with you." Plain and simple. Beleth, to the rest of the masses, was this unshakable fallen angel that can never be pushed into the territory of annoyance. Never bothered, no matter how chaos rains around him. A near endless patience that even stretches to you. You can take your time. You trust that something won't snap in him.

Beleth chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. His hand slid down the back of your neck and guided you to his.

"Careful there, Sugar. Language like that'll get ya--"

You opened your mouth and let your teeth bite.

Stones ground underneath Beleth's shoes as he curled his legs in, his grip sliding down to clutch the back of your shirt instead. The muscles underneath your tongue tightened, Beleth's bare chest shivered against your own, and he dropped his cigarette in favor of squeezing your knee.

"Haha--" Beleth tried to get a laugh out, but the next sinking of your teeth had that quickly die into a hiss. "When you bite you really--haa--bite."

It's nice, watching the blood trickle down from the open wounds, trailing down his heaving chest and getting absorbed into the band of his straining underwear.

"Mm-hmm, like you said, I don't hold back."

"Haha, and neither," Beleth grasped his shirt and ripped it into scrapes of cloth, leaving him bare before you, "do I."

#whb #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad #drabble #hell-drabbles #hell-drabbles exclusive #niflheim #beleth #reader insert #embittered companion au

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bjornshouldvelivedddd · 1 day ago

Text

Strangers

Song to listen while reading: Diet Mountain Dew-Lana del ray

Warnings: tension, intense eye contact(😭), shy Bjorn, light teasing , smoking

Summary: reader sees Bjorn outside having a smoke, a complete stranger but she needs a lighter

A/n: writing this made me realise I don’t actually know How tall he is so I just guessed

Listening to your brother and his fiancé drone on and on about they’re weeding made you feel like you were falling asleep, no offence to them and they’re ‘perfect’ relationship but you feel so hot in the cramped bar.

You clear your throat, interrupting something your brother was saying “sorry but I’m gonna duck out for a cigarette real quick.”You mutter, standing up and walking out the bar without waiting for a answer, as soon as you get outside the bar you feel much better, less cramped. You dig your hands into the pockets of your coats, fuck. You have cigarettes but no lighter, it’s just your luck, you look around trying to see if there’s anyone else out there smoking, right across from you is a man leaning on the outside wall of the pub, hopefully he has a lighter.

You walk over to him “erm excuse me?”You say awkwardly, the guy turns to you and raises a brow “yes?”he asks, tone slightly hostile, he’s around 5’8, he has very slight scruffy brunette hair which is styled like a mod cut, he also has very light stubble and prominent blue eyes “do you have a lighter by any chance?”you ask with a light smile and polite tone, neither of you breaking eye contact “ere’ ya’ go.” He hands you the lighter, fingers brushing against yours slightly.

You give him another smile before lighting the cigarette and taking a drag, you look down at the lighter in your hands, about to give it back when you see what’s written on it ‘if you wanna fuck smile when you give me the lighter back’ it draws a small laugh from your lips “can already tell your such a gentleman just by this lighter.” You say sarcastically, locking eyes with him as you pass the lighter back, Bjorn gives a light smirk “not gonna smile?”he questions in a joking tone, raising a brow “nah your not gonna get lucky tonight.”You also say in a joking tone “damn, gotta’ say I wish ya’ did, yer’ a very pretty lady”He compliments, eyeing you up and down, enough for you to notice but still very subtle “well aren’t you a charmer, thank you.”You say, taking another drag on the cigarette “well it was nice meetin’ ya’, maybe I’ll bump into you again and be lucky next time?”Bjorn says before walking back inside of the pub, you watch as he walks inside, he was actually cute.

Bjorn walks back over to the stall him and Tyler are sitting at “fuckin’ hell man I just spoke to the fittest chick”He brags to Tyler who’s on his fourth beer, head on the table, the last thing Tyler wants to hear about is how his cousin spoke to a girl when he was broken up with last night “Bjorn, mate. Shut up.”

#bjorn alien romulus #bjorn alien romulus fics #bjorn alien romulus x reader #bjorn x reader #spike fearn

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leighsartworks216 · 2 days ago

Text

Writer's Block

Zayne x gn!Reader

I've been stuck in a bit of a rut trying to write for these boys, so I decided to write a fic about writer's block to get out of my writer's block. To be honest, I have no idea how it worked as well as it did

Warnings: established relationship, swearing, domestic fluff, writer's block, food, eating, cuddling, forehead kisses, references to Clopidogrel the squirrel

Word Count: 2,436

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The little black bar blinks mockingly at you. The only mark on the empty document, taunting you for your lack of creativity, of imagination, of perseverance. Blink, blink, blink. Waiting for you to type anything. And you come up pitifully short.

You sigh and shut your laptop. You look around the living room, at the little knick-knacks you brought from your apartment when you moved in, the cozy blankets strewn about as the days get colder, and the clock on the wall. You could watch TV, pick out a book from the shelf, put together a puzzle…

You open your laptop again. The empty document continues to mock you.

What do you want to write about? Action? Well, you’ve never been very good at writing fight scenes or thrilling chases. How about some romance? Eh, you have no idea where to start with that, and relationship drama sounds about as appealing as a moldy pizza crust from the bottom of a week-old dumpster. If you were a bit cleverer, you would try your hand at a murder mystery.

“Love?”

You hum.

Zayne comes around the sofa to pick up your empty mug from this morning that sits lonely on the coffee table. He looks down at you skeptically. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“No,” you admit. He’d pry it out of you either way; might as well tell the truth. “My brain is stuck, right now. All I want to do is write, but nothing is coming out.”

“Why not take a break?”

“Because nothing else sounds good to do,” you try to explain. “Trying to do anything else feels bad, but trying to write also feels bad.”

He closes your laptop and sets it on the coffee table. “Let’s start with getting something to eat. We can go to that music-themed diner we saw the other day.”

You sigh, long and drawn out, but the look he gives you advises you not to argue with him. “Okay.”

He smiles slightly. “Your brain needs time to rest, even if all you want to do is push through it.” He leans down and kisses your forehead. “Go get dressed. Something warm; it’s chilly outside.”

“Yes, doctor.” You draw yourself up from the cushion, body aching from sitting there for so long. He raises an eyebrow at you. You roll your eyes and kiss his cheek. “Yes, my love.”

“That’s better.” He returns the kiss and heads into the kitchen to rinse out your mug.

You shoot one last glare at your laptop, before going to the bedroom to change.

The drive is mostly quiet. The soft hum of the AC pushing warm air throughout the car being the most prominent sound in the silence. You watch the people passing by, walking or biking along. You try to make little stories for some of them.

While Zayne is stopped at a red light, you point out his window at a teenage girl being pulled along by an overexcited dog. “She stole it from the pound.” He chuckles lightly, caught off guard by the sudden remark. “It’s a gift for her little brother, because their parents won’t let them get a pet. She’s gonna say it was running loose when she found it, and, ‘Oh please, can we keep it? We’ll take good care of it!’”

“Will they let her keep it?” he asks as the light turns green.

You huff and sink into your seat, staring back out of your window. “Who knows?”

He reaches over to hold your hand in your lap. His thumb runs over your knuckles, tracing the familiar path it takes every time you’re upset, brushing over the silver ring on your finger. It’s almost Pavlovian how quickly it soothes you. “I think they just might.”

You know it pains Zayne to see you like this, acting like a petulant child just because you can’t think of a few good words. You lean your head on his shoulder. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Mhm, but can I anyway?”

He breathes a quiet laugh. “Yes, you can.”

“Then, I’m sorry for acting like this. Thank you for taking care of me.”

He kisses the top of your head. “Of course. If you would like to make it up to me, we should go to that crepe stand in the park.”

You laugh and pinch his hand. He squeezes you back in return. “Okay, Mr. Sweet Tooth, we can go there after lunch.”

The diner is snug. All sorts of band memorabilia line every inch of the walls. The tables are decorated with images of album covers, protected by a layer of see-through plastic. You manage to snag a booth right by the door, giving you a perfect view into the connected gift shop, lined with instruments and CDs.

As you wait for your food, named after old 1980s and 90s songs, you and Zayne catch up. Small updates on how Yvonne and Greyson are doing, in exchange for an odd article you saw on Moments. You tell him about a cat you saw the other day that you forgot to tell him about, and he updates you on Clopidogrel, the squirrel who comes to his office window to beg for nuts. Once the food arrives, though, conversation is exchanged in favor of listening.

Over the old music blaring a little too loudly in the diner, you listen to the full tables of friends and family that chat. You overhear something about an Aunt Mindy who’s just adopted another parrot, despite already owning three. Someone’s boss who keeps microwaving fish for lunch, and the ongoing notes-on-the-fridge war about it. A friend of a friend of a friend who met some celebrity, or so they say, but they can’t be trusted to tell the truth because of such-and-such.

A couple sitting behind Zayne, right beside the entrance to the gift shop, seem to be on their first date. The guy is talking a lot, even speaking over the girl he’s with at some points. You try not to stare when she suddenly blows up about him not listening to her. He talks over her again to try defending himself. It gets so bad, two staff have to tell them to leave so they stop disturbing everyone else. They don’t even get their food as they stomp out, continuing to complain all the while. Zayne shoots you a look that says he knows you’ll be using this for your writing at some point down the line.

Bellies nearly full, with just enough left for a dessert crepe, Zayne takes a moment to take in the decor. There’s one sign high up on the wall that says, “If you remember the 60s, you weren’t there!” It must be quite old. Really, all of the stuff in here could be considered antique. It’s fascinating to see it being appreciated instead of locked away behind glass; given the chance to live again.

“Feeling better?” he asks as he leads you back to his car, parked in a lot nearby.

“Mhm. But now I keep thinking…”

“About what?”

“How glad I am that none of our dates went that poorly.”

He chuckles softly. You smile and hold onto his arm, leaning into him. “Well, there was that time early on…”

You laugh at the memory. “You should have gone right home! I told you not to worry about dinner!”

“I couldn’t leave you to eat at that restaurant alone, exhausted or otherwise.”

“But then I had to drive you back home, anyway! You know how I don’t like driving your car.”

The car in question unlocks with a beep. He opens up the passenger side door for you to get in. “I’m glad my perseverance didn’t ruin your opinion of me,” he says, before shutting the door and rounding the car to get into the driver’s seat.

Once he gets in, you poke his arm. “Of course not. It just meant I had to get on your ass more about overworking yourself.”

“Yet you still ignore my advice…” He gives you a pointed glance as he starts the car. “Do I have to start getting on your ass about overworking yourself?”

“You already are!”

“I could be far more insistent about it than I currently am.”

“Please don’t.”

The park by the hospital is familiar and welcoming, as always. A light breeze caresses your cheeks as you start walking side by side, and you’re glad you dressed warmly like Zayne said to. Still, you may or may not have used it as an excuse to walk even closer to him, to “conserve heat” as you fake a shiver. He’s so used to your antics by now, he teases you about the possibility of keeping an extra coat and scarf in his car for you.

The people at the crepe stand know you already. You try not to think about how often you must visit for that to be the case, as they ask if you want your usuals and get to building the crepes exactly as you like. Zayne is just patient enough to let you take a quick photo of both of your treats together to post on Moments. You fondly wipe away a small glop of whipped cream from the corner of his mouth that he misses, and he catches your hand before you can put it on his nose instead.

You walk to a secluded little bench that you’ve practically claimed for yourselves. You’ve never seen anyone else sit here, ever. It’s tucked away beside a small pond, where ducks huddle together as they float, flat beaks tucked under their wings as they enjoy an afternoon nap. The bench itself is old and worn down, covered in lichen and carved into by old lovers. But it’s yours.

You sit side by side, watching the waterfowl and enjoying your treats. When you finish your crepe, you lean your head against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist to keep you close, indulging in being a little more affectionate in the extra bit of privacy you have here. It feels nice, just being here with him.

“Thank you again for this,” you say softly. You can’t fight the smile that appears on your face when you feel his head rest on top of yours. “The head editor has been hounding us all lately to write something spectacular. As much as I love working for the paper, sometimes it makes writing painful.”

He hums in understanding. His fingers trace mindless shapes against your hip, only stopping when you squirm from how ticklish it is. “You went into a job that makes your hobby into work, but that detracts from the relaxing, fun experience it used to be.”

You sigh. “Yeah. And then the stuff I do end up writing for fun, I hoard to myself. I haven’t done that for years, because I like sharing my stuff with other people. Now, it’s like I have to keep that little scrap of joy all to myself.” You close your eyes and turn your head to press your cold nose against his jacket lapel. “I know I should just quit and find something else to do, but even if I want to write a novel or a book of my own, I’d still be turning my hobby into a job.”

“You would be able to work at your own pace.”

“Then who’s to say I’ll ever finish anything to be able to publish it?”

“What would happen if you didn’t publish anything?” he counters. “Aside from posting on the internet.”

You pause for a minute. If you did quit, start writing for yourself and decide to write a novel, what would happen if it never got published? There wouldn’t be an editor or boss looking over your shoulder, hounding you about deadlines or appealing to a larger audience. And there wouldn’t be people expecting a novel from you unless you bring it up yourself. You could work on a secret project for years with Zayne as your only witness and there would be no worrying about other people getting hype and losing interest when you take longer than expected. Sure, you wouldn’t get paid, but money wasn’t a concern with Zayne’s career, and you could always do a little freelance if you felt like it, or find another job that doesn’t involve writing, so you can keep it as a hobby all to yourself again.

You sigh, as though a huge burden has been lifted from your shoulders, and lean a bit heavier into his side. He welcomes it easily, adjusting his arm to wrap around your back so he can rub your arm. “I’ll put in my two weeks notice tomorrow,” you tell him. “Which means I still have to figure out what to write about for this assignment.”

“You’ll think of something,” he assures. “You can always write about that girl and her stolen dog.”

You chuckle. “Her parents will post up flyers about a missing dog, and an employee at the pound will see it. It’ll be a huge scandal. And just when she thinks she’ll have to give up the dog - which they’ve named Sir Butterton the Third - her parents will finally relent and adopt it.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, and he smiles down at you with those ever-calming hazel eyes of his. “See? You’ve already got a plot synopsis. The rest will come naturally.” He squeezes your hand, which has grown cold after spending so long in the cool breeze and autumn weather. “Now, we should get you home before you catch a cold.”

“You’re out here, too! You could catch a cold just as easily.”

“All the more reason to hurry back.” He stands first and helps you from the old bench. You’re not sure he even consciously thinks about it before doing up your jacket to keep the cold air from getting in. You don’t mind. It gives you a chance to admire the man you’ve chosen as your life partner. He gives you a questioning look. “What’s on your mind now?”

You smile and reach up to playfully adjust his scarf. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering who I should base the dad on in my story.”

His ears turn pink, but he shakes his head, taking your hand from his scarf and leading you back toward the car. “If that’s the case, I would recommend a different name for the dog in your story.”

“Oh? What should it be, then?”

“Aprotinin.”

“I’m not naming the dog after a drug!”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter

#fanfic #fanfiction #zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne #lnds zayne #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #fluff

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dirtytomatoedwrites · 3 days ago

Text

I WAS NEVER THERE - PART 2

FIRST CONVERSATION

Summary: Steve returned to the 1940s to find the life he thought he wanted. But desire has its own plans—and he’s found someone who knows exactly how to feed it.

Paring: Steve Rogers/Reader Steve/Peggy

Warning: 18+ mature dark themes. Smut, Drama, Romance, BitterSweet / Possessive / Obsessive behaviour, Cheating.

STORY MASTERLIST

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact.

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Steal my writing or the writing of others and karma will get ya.

You're good at hiding your emotions.

Your father always said it was a strength, something that set you apart. He taught you from a young age that showing too much emotion was as good as surrendering—that real control was the ability to stay calm when others couldn't.

"The world's full of people who wear their hearts on their sleeves," he'd say, his voice steady and detached, mirroring his personality. "Don't be one of them."

So you learned to keep your face neutral, your movements contained, to never let anyone see what might unsettle you. In rooms like this, where some of the brightest minds in the world gather, every glance and gesture carries weight. You know how to keep yourself level-headed and unreadable, as though nothing could shake you.

But tonight—just one month after that first dinner with Steve—your composure is slipping. The penthouse hums with the low thrum of voices, the same people spinning through familiar cycles of conversation. The air is thick with practiced smiles and thinly veiled gossip, a parade of familiarity that would almost feel comforting if it weren’t so stifling.

As you scan the room, it takes effort to keep your gaze from lingering on him for too long.

You sip from your glass, forcing yourself to act as though you’re just as invested in the evening as everyone else here.

Nancy, across the room, is already the center of attention, her laughter bubbling over exaggerated stories, while Peggy glides through the party like an effortless beacon, all grace and charm. It’s a scene you’ve witnessed countless times, nothing here should feel unusual.

But tonight, it does.

Steve stands beside Peggy, the very image of loyalty and composure, but something is off.

His gaze shifts through the room, his focus finding you each time, resting on you for just a beat too long—a quiet intensity that makes it harder to breathe, harder to maintain the ease you’ve so carefully cultivated.

You know he shouldn’t be looking at you like that. And he knows it, too.

Your pulse quickens and though you keep your focus on the nearest conversation, your thoughts are drawn back to him, to that piercing gaze.

It’s unnerving, this silent exchange, hidden beneath a polite façade that no one else notices. And it’s that very danger- the thrill of being seen without words, that makes it impossible to look away.

Feeling the tension getting the better of you, you decide you needed an escape, slipping through the crowd and into the kitchen.

You're relieved to find the room empty. The gentle clink of the door closing behind you the only sounds. For a brief moment, you savor the silence.

Leaning against the counter you pick up a wine glass and place it in front of you followed by a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. Taking a steadying breath, you begin to pour yourself a generous amount.

But the silence is short-lived. You barely have a moment to gather yourself before the door swings open, and there he is- Steve, stepping into the kitchen as if he’d been waiting for this moment all night.

“Taking a break from all the excitement?” His voice cuts through the stillness.

You set the bottle back on the counter, forcing yourself to stay calm. “Just needed some air.”

“Funny,” he says, each step closer, unhurried and deliberate. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

You feign a casual shrug. “.I’m not sure we know each other well enough for that to be the case.”

He chuckles, the sound soft and unsettling, as his eyes glint in the dim light. “Don’t we?” He leans against the counter, his arm brushing yours, far too close for it to feel accidental.

The weight of his presence has you instinctively pulling back, but Steve simply pours himself a drink.

“It’s rare to meet someone like you... at these things,” he says, taking a slow sip.

“I could say the same,” you reply cautiously, your voice almost betraying you. “Not every day you come across someone who's been to the future, no crystal ball required."

He laughs quietly. “True,” he says, “very true.” His gaze never wavers, as if he’s seeing straight through you.

"Still,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again, “You surprise me. Most people don’t.”

Your pulse quickens as silence swells between you, heavy and charged. You shrug, looking away. “Well,” you say lightly, “you’d be disappointed soon enough, I’m sure.”

His eyes narrow, studying you with a faint, knowing smile. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

A faint sound from the dining room breaks the moment, reminding you of the room beyond. You glance toward it instinctively, feeling a brief surge of relief. He notices and his mouth tilts into a quiet smile, amused.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asks softly.

“No.” You shake your head, a touch of defiance in your voice as you look up at him. You refused to let him see you rattled.

“No?” he repeats, echoing your tone, as he steps closer, his presence towering, overwhelming.

“No…” The word leaves you as a breath, almost caught in your throat as you stared up into mesmerising blue eyes.

“Good,” he says, his smile widening. “That’s good to know.” He sets down his empty glass with deliberate slowness, and the soft clink of it hitting the counter seems to echo. “I’d hate to think I was making you nervous.”

Before you can respond, the kitchen door swings open. Steve steps away just as Nancy walks in, her eyes widening slightly as she sees you both, alone.

“Oh- am I interrupting something?” she asks, eyebrow raised.

“No, of course not.” you say quickly, offering her a tight smile. “In fact, Steve was just leaving.”

Steve glances between you and Nancy, his expression cool and unreadable, as though he anticipated this exact moment.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, without another word, he slips through the door, leaving a chill in his wake.

Nancy watches him go, raising an eyebrow as she looks back at you. “What was that?”

You force a smile, shaking your head as you study the half-empty glass in your hand. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Part 3 coming soon. Thanks for reading xoxo

#Steve rogers #Steve rogers x reader

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stunticonbreakdown · 2 days ago

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I feel like a lot of people seem to forget (or are unaware) that Breakdown's paranoia manifests itself into violence rather than the need to be taken care of by other people. (I do not mean for this to come off as rude at all, even if you have found you write or think of Breakdown this way. This is just a subject I find annoying, and wished to speak about it 😊.)

I see him depicted as a "cinnamon roll" kind of character a lot, as if his paranoid delusions and hallucinations and whatnot leave him a crying, shaking mess on the floor simply in need of care and affection (which, to be honest, he definitely does need, but the point here is that it's not a super accurate representation of his character).

Canonically, as shown in the cartoon as well as his many many bios, he gets violent. His gun does not leave his hands. He would not hesitate to physically harm someone else while he has the belief they are wronging him. He was born with his gun in his hands, so why would he be afraid to use it if he believed he was in danger?

I feel his mischaracterization comes from a lack of education on like... How paranoia works and affects the mind. Even seeing how courageous and strong Breakdown is in the cartoon, people focus in on his stammering and fears mentioned in his bios more, and then writing it in a way that ignores the forementioned traits because some people just do not understand that those traits can coexist, or how they can.

I will be honest, I do love a good comfort fic, and I can't see him shooting at someone who's only trying to help him, but let him have his more 'violent' traits! I do believe some people may also fear that they're coming off as writing Breakdown into the "violent and evil paranoiac" archetype, but as long as it's done right, it's not going to feel that way.

Let him shoot down a security camera! Let him ready his gun after hearing a knock at his door! Let him break something he was holding because he got too distracted by his thoughts! Because he would!Him being continuously written as an "innocent lil anxious boy" feels incredibly disregarding (if that's the word?) to his (and real people's) issues. I find his more violent traits relatable. I don't have a gun, but I break/damage so many things when in a distressed state of mind, and I know for a fact many other people do.

To conclude this, I will mention this is not a direct criticism of anyone or thing. This is about a jumble posts I've seen, conversations I've had, and some fics I've seen. Even the fanfiction I'm barely referring to, as I understand many authors, including myself, enjoy projecting onto characters they like. I do not mind reading fics or seeing fanart where he's curled up onto a ball in panic, but I just wish more people saw Breakdown less as "innocent with anxiety" and more as how he actually is in the cartoon/comics/bios. There is a difference between seeing Breakdown as the aforementioned archetype of anxious + innocent and seeing him as his appearances show and describe.

Thank you for reading all the way through, if you did! Once again- this was not meant to come across as rude at all, nor was this a direct criticism of anyone or thing. This is me getting my thoughts out as someone who heavily relates to Breakdown on how the fandom tends to view him.

#i simply just wish to educate more people you know?#i lobe him so much so sorry for the rant again #transformers #breakdown #g1 breakdown #maccadams #rant #he means everything to me #+this is not a fanwork criticism+#stunticons

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mc-lukanette · 3 hours ago

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Luka was still a child, far too young to worry about much of anything, yet he worried anyway because Marinette seemed worried. While she still engaged with him during their usual playtime and listened eagerly when he showed her the new toy he'd gotten, she felt distant and was more quiet than usual. It was a problem, not only because she was his friend and he cared, but he liked hearing her talk and ramble to him.

She wasn't doing any of that while she was so distracted.

He didn't ask about it - Juleka had told him once that girls were allowed to have their secrets, and he didn't know if this might be one of them - so he tried to find other things for them to do, hoping it might interest her more. They took a break to eat, went for a walk around the Liberty to see if the flowers needed watering, then searched for something to watch together.

He was starting to lose hope that he could cheer her up when she suddenly spoke partway through their movie search.

"Magic's not real."

He looked, seeing her hunched over with a movie in her hands. Not knowing why she'd say such a thing, he asked in reply, "Why?"

She pouted, fidgeting with the movie as she explained, "I had to write stuff for school about the story of someone we look up to. I was gonna do the tooth fairy, because Santa has a hard job too but the tooth fairy's tiny and works all year."

He nodded along silently to her story, agreeing with the logic. "Then what?"

"I wanted to know where they got all the money for kids' teeth, like a job, so I sneaked onto the computer when no one was around and..." She let out a groan, slumping and falling back onto the floor. "They're not real."

It was a shock to him too, though Marinette had been through it first without any support, so he can't imagine how it was for her. "But magic can still be real, right? Just not the tooth fairy."

"Santa's not real either!" she shouted to the empty space in the room.

Luka slowly realized how much she'd kept inside the whole time.

"I just wanted to give him the cookies I made last Christmas," she said, rubbing her face tiredly, "but then I caught Papa dressed up like Santa!"

"How'd you know it was him?" he asked with a tilt of his head.

"It's Papa! No one else looks like him."

That was fair.

"I thought maybe Santa was sick from the North Pole cold and sent Papa clothes so no one knew, but... the clothes were so cheap!" She threw her hands up, nearly sending the movie across the room in the process. "They just did it to trick me if I tried to meet 'Santa'!"

Marinette knew her fashion, so he believed her. He imagined that she'd let the Santa clothes go for all that time and it was only after yet another disappointment with the tooth fairy that she gave in.

For his own part, Luka had believed in Santa, but not that he was the one delivering gifts. According to his mom, Santa abandoned his wife, leaving her to do all the gifting, and she'd "throw him overboard" if he ever came back. He'd always wondered why the other kids told different versions, but if it was just a story, then it made sense.

A sympathetic, "Oh," was all he could say. It wasn't easy for him to grasp that magic wasn't real as, while he'd never seen people fly or cast spells, he always thought it was pretty magical that he and Marinette met and became best friends.

"And if magic's not real, fairytales aren't too," Marinette concluded, gently tossing the movie aside.

It landed in front of Luka and he finally got to see what she'd been holding that started all this: a typical princess movie with a prince, a fairy godmother, and a witch-y villainess. He frowned, picking it up and turning it around to look at the back as well.

He trusted Marinette, so it must've been true that magic and fairytales weren't real. He was torn, because while it was sad that he wouldn't be seeing "real" magic in his life, it was weirdly comforting that life didn't work out the way it did in fairytales.

He'd always thought that Marinette was cute enough to be a princess, or at least the girls in the movies who became princesses. At the same time, the only boys the princesses and those girls tended to be around were princes, and Luka wasn't a prince; he wasn't even close. He wasn't rich, he wasn't royalty, he couldn't do a ballroom dance, and he hadn't defeated any evil dragons.

But if fairytales weren't real, then he could stay with her. That was one good thing.

Marinette sat up, defeated, but not enough to ignore fixing her bangs and checking the tightness of the hairties holding her pigtails in place. Luka blinked, briefly distracted by the trail of freckles underneath her sad, half-lidded eyes.

He was sure they hadn't done any art or crafts that day, but she must've before she'd gotten there, as her freckles were sparkling like they'd gotten glitter onto them. His nose scrunched in thought, wondering how he could've missed that when she'd gotten there.

"I wanted to be the knitting fairy when I grew up. I wanted to make clothes for everyone that was super comfy and didn't go out of style," she mumbled, her hands tightened into fists against her chest. "A-and make it so bullies would have clothes that never fit and were always really itchy!"

Her eyes flashed with frustration, looking more blue than usual. Luka went closer to sit down next to her, wanting to comfort her but not sure how.

"You can still make clothes," he pointed out. "You'll be good at it."

"But—!" she began to protest, turning fully to him. "I had other stuff I wanted to do with my magic! Like—ah... nnn..."

"Marinette?" he called, alarmed as she started to shake. He knew intuitively that it wasn't from rage.

She shut her eyes tight like she had a headache, squeezing herself in a hug. She opened her mouth to respond to him—

Only to disappear spontaneously in a cloud of thick, pink mist. Luka recoiled, staring at what looked almost looked like cotton candy in cloud form that Marinette had been lost in.

Without a thought as to if it might hurt him or not, he thrust his hand inside desperately, hoping to pull her out. He tried to grasp at where her shoulder had been before, but couldn't feel anything except for the bizarre, almost fuzzy feeling mist. Still, he noticed that the movement had cleared some of it, so he waved his arm about rapidly to try and clear as much of it as he could.

A very Marinette-like cough sounded from below, her voice filling him with relief as she called out, "L-Luka?"

His arm pulled back, the mist separating and fading away into nothingness. He looked down towards the source of her voice, thinking that she might have collapsed despite him having not heard it, but that's not at all what he ended up seeing.

Sitting on the floor just as she'd been before was a wide-eyed Marinette, but small; small enough for him to carry around in both hands. Her pigtails had rounded and gained little hair accessories that reminded him of tiny pincushions, while her outfit had changed to a pink, fluffy minidress.

Most notable, however, were the glowing white fairy wings that were coming out of her back. He covered his mouth with both hands in shock.

"You're magic," he said, though it was muffled behind his palms. Even if Santa and the tooth fairy weren't real, at least his inclinations about their magical meeting still made sense.

"W-what?!"

She jumped to her feet, noticing how little she rose up, then turned and twisted every way possible to look at herself, which was when he noticed that she also had pointed ears. Even as tiny as she was, Luka was observant enough to catch the tidal waves of emotion passing over her face one after another. She was surprised by the change, but the wings and new clothes made her giddy, then she swapped to being horrified.

"Ah, but—but there's no tooth fairy!" She put her hands to her cheeks in distress, so fast that they made a slapping sound. "If I was gonna be a fairy, I wanted someone to teach me! Does that—" She gasped. "—Does that mean I'm the only real tooth fairy? All by myself?! I don't have any money to give to other kids!"

Luka fretted as she paced in a tiny circle on the floor, two children entirely lost without direction.

"Or do I have to be a fairy godmother? Do I have to go find a girl to godmother to? What if I pick the wrong girl?!" She whined, the pacing picking up as she threw her arms about. "And I don't know anything about being a god, or a mother!"

He didn't know anything about what was going on, but he didn't want her to worry so much. Perhaps impulsively, he put a hand out to block the path she'd been pacing.

Marinette nearly bumped into it, but stopped just in time. She stared up at him with her wide eyes pleading and confused.

"Maybe you don't have to be anything?" He shrugged helplessly with one arm, hoping for the same as her. "Did it come with rules? Like a board game or a toy you build?"

She perked, realizing that he meant an instruction manual, and immediately started patting herself down. There weren't many places for a guide to be put on her, though he noticed that pockets seemed to magically form when Marinette tried to search for some.

"...No," she concluded when she'd run out of spots to check. "I-I don't think so?"

"Then it's gotta be okay," he said; more decided, really. He might not have fought off dragons, but he would hide and defend her if any sort of fairy police came to scold her for rules they didn't know about. His mom had always been a rule breaker and encouraged him to break them in cases like these.

Well, she didn't describe a situation like his best friend transforming into a fairy, but it fell within the category, he was sure.

As Luka tilted his head to fully take in Marinette, he saw her glancing over her shoulder at her wings. She arched her back, shoulders tensing as she closed her eyes, but the wings only fluttered briefly before she gave up.

"You wanna fly?" he wondered aloud.

"Yeah? No—yeah?" She blushed, getting up on her tip toes to try and make herself seem taller. "You'll hurt your neck if you keep looking down."

He unconsciously touched the back of his neck, having not given an ounce of thought to that. She was the one who suddenly changed, so why was she thinking about him? He looked around, trying to get a gauge on how the room must've looked to her, then suggested, "I can pick you up?"

"Mm?" She hadn't considered the possibility.

He laid his hands on the floor, palms facing up, and raised a brow as if to ask, 'is this okay?' Marinette stared at his hands, taking a few steps closer and looking them over like they were a puzzle, then slowly raised a leg and started to get on. He kept perfectly still, not wanting to jostle her, though she still fell forward due to his hands being a more uneven surface than the floor.

He would've helped had his hands not been preoccupied for obvious reasons. He was vaguely upset at them for being uneven in the first place, as if he'd had any control over that.

He waited for her to sit up and get her bearings, then started to stand up. He kept his eyes on her all the way to the coffee table, walking carefully so as to not trip or bump into anything. When they did reach it, he lowered his hands and she jumped off a couple inches away from the table, falling down slowly like a feather to both of their surprise.

"Oh." Marinette glanced at her wings again, as if she could belatedly check if they had fluttered automatically during the fall. Luka had been watching, so he knew it was just how her new body worked.

He sat himself down on the floor, his arms on the table for support so he could lean towards her. "Do you wanna change back?"

She pursed her lips at him, rubbing her chin, then cheek, and finally the back of her neck. "...I dunno? How?"

He racked his brain, tilting his head from side to side like it might help the thoughts move around more quickly. He recalled their conversation and tried to piece together any connection to her changing. "You were thinking about being a fairy? And magic?"

He didn't know how saying that helped, but she picked it up from there. "So... I have to think about being a not fairy? A not fairy without magic?"

He shrugged.

Since they didn't have any other alternatives, she went with it. Putting her teeny tiny hands on her teeny tiny hips, she shut her eyes and tried to focus. It did feel like a shame to try and change her back when she'd just turned into a fairy, but it was just as important to know what she could and couldn't do.

Nothing was happening though. Her brow twitched, her feet shifting in place impatiently. She swayed from side to side, not unlike he'd done earlier while thinking, then she opened her eyes to look up at him. Letting out a whine from her throat, she turned her back to him and tried again. He didn't know how that was supposed to make it easier on her.

Nothing again. She was still a fairy, still just as tiny, and she turned back to him with the same gleaming blue eyes, pointy ears, and glittery freckles.

"I can't," she said. "Not yet."

Yet? "What's wrong?"

"I'm still thinking about magic." She hesitated, then stepped closer and reached both of her hands up. "Come down."

The words alone were a demand, but the tone made it a shy request. He obeyed, bending over and letting his chin rest on his forearms.

Going close enough to his face that he had to cross his eyes to watch her, she stepped off to the side next to his head, putting a knee on his forearm as she leaned forward. While he couldn't see where she was reaching, he felt her fingertips against his cheek, at the hair in front of his ear.

"If I just have to think about it hard..." she murmured to herself.

He was really curious, but resisted asking in case it broke her focus. Was she performing magic on him? Was that why it felt so warm where she touched?

"Ah!" she yelped, startled, but what came out as shock quickly turned to delight. "It...it works! It works!"

"Marinette," he protested with a whine of his own, unable to stand the suspense.

"Sorry! Here, here..."

She was excited now, a far cry from the anxiety she'd shown when she first transformed. She moved back to where he could see her better, and this time he could watch as she slipped her fingertips through his bangs.

Like, well, magic, his hair changed from black to blue where she touched. He sucked in a breath, watching it spread further until she was satisfied, then she moved onto another lock of his hair. He had to grip his arms, forcing herself to stay still and not spring upwards from her contagious excitement.

She continued until his hair was dyed blue at the tips all along the front, then stepped back and jumped, limps spread in joy as she fell slowly back down. "Ta-dah! I'll do the back later too!"

He popped back up immediately, running his hand through his bangs to feel her work. Mesmerized by how simple the process had been and how perfect the magic dye job was, he let out a long, quiet, "ohhh."

She bounced up and down, then pointed at one of his hands. "Those next, those next!"

He followed the pointing to stare at it, not sure what she meant, but he wanted to know with action, not words. He leaned over once more to watch as close as he could, resting his hand flat on the table.

Marinette knelt down in front of it, placing her hands under his. With a small, "huph," she pulled it atop her lap as much as she could, then reached out towards his fingertips.

He realized what was happening before she'd started, based on where she'd touched: one of his black fingernails. She traced her hand around the outline of his nail, fixing the tiny mistakes and spreading the nail polish further in places he'd missed when he'd done it himself.

She tried to move over to reach the next fingernail when she was done with the first, but he moved his hand for her, offering her each finger at a time and then his thumb. She was elated, which he could understand for the sheer coolness factor of it all, but something in the back of his mind reminded him of everything she'd been saying, as well as what she was cut off from saying due to the transformation.

When she was done with his hand, he swapped it out for the other and asked, "What was it?"

"Mmm~?" she hummed, half of her attention on his nail polish.

"The other stuff? The magic that wasn't for the clothes," he clarified.

She stopped tending to his nails for a moment, beaming at him and answering with her full chest, "Stuff for you!" She waved her whole arm to gesture at his hand, then up at his bangs. "You kept talking about dyeing your hair, and how long it took to do your nails. I knew if I had magic, then I could do it for you!"

And that's exactly what she was doing: she couldn't have even thought about being human again until she knew that she could use magic to cure him of what was essentially a mild inconvenience. He could only stare at her, speechless, at how a big part of her wanting to be a fairy involved him.

She was amazing. The best possible friend he could've asked for. Human or fairy, she was just as magical.

"Done!" she declared as she finished the nails on his other hand, standing up to look it over one more time. "And it'll be our little secret!"

She didn't even want credit for it, another shock to his system.

"Thanks," he managed, finding his voice again. He admired his nails and bangs one last time, reminding himself to look in a mirror later to see the latter in full. "It's so cool. Really cool."

Her smile would put the sun to shame; him being happy never failed to make her happy too, which only heightened the effect this was having on him.

It occurred to him then that, if magic being real meant that fairytales might still be real too, he didn't have to worry anymore. Marinette was a fairy, not a princess, so the rules he'd imagined didn't apply to them, and she'd made it clear that he was important to her.

He might not've been a prince, but he felt like a king.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette #Fairy Marinette Dupain Cheng #trope: Pocket Lukanette #trope: Mininette #((''Clarity you always write kids like they're marshmallows that have taken human form--'' ''Shhhh let me have this.''))

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msmorningstaarr · 24 hours ago

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guy next door | joel miller x oc (angie reed) | chapter I

ao3 | masterlist

summary: During the summer of 2003, Angie had recently moved into her parent’s new home in Austin at their guest house to have a fresh start after a nasty break up with her fiancé. Her new neighbor, Joel Miller, is more than happy to make her feel welcome to the neighborhood.

pairing: joel miller x female oc (angie reed)

tags: fluff, long fic, romance, slight angst eventually, oc has no physical description, oc is early 20s joel is late 20s, eventual smut, slow burn, mentions of infidelity, no outbreak au!, 2003 au!, soft joel, good daddy joel, sarah going into her teenage dirtbag phase, trust issues, domestic fluff, protective joel, eventual sex,

w.c: 5.6k

a.n.: so i’ve post it before but somethings were really shitty and i figured i needed to change somethings in my writing. i really hope you guys like it as much as i liked writing it. likes, comments and reblogs are not mandatory but very appreciated! 💖

“Shit…” Sarah stared at herself in the mirror, eyes wide with shock. It had happened. She bit her lip, trying desperately to think of a plan, but her mind was blank. There, on the back of her white shorts, was a red stain, impossible to ignore, especially as she was getting ready for a neighbor’s pool party. She was alone, with her dad and uncle likely out grabbing beers somewhere before the evening feast they were all supposed to attend. But even if they’d been there, Joel and Tommy would have been of no help in this situation at all.

Sarah sank onto the bathroom floor, clutching her stomach as she started to cry in confusion and a certain desperation. She had no mother to explain exactly what periods were, which pads to wear or simply comfort her in this experience. The cramps twisted hard in her abdomen, and waves of panic surged over her. Glancing back at the mirror, she put her hands over her face, already feeling defeated as she looked for some practical way to cover the growing stain. In a flash of impulse, she grabbed an old sweater from her laundry basket, tying it around her waist.

Peeking out the window, Sarah spotted a young woman across the street, carrying some boxes in front of the guest house inside the property, next to the main house. The woman looked alone and with luck, she might be kind enough to help. Sarah took a shaky breath and headed out, trying to stomp confidently but having her body allowing her no more than a slow walk outside of the house, while the girl carried the last box upstairs to her home, closing the door without seeing Sarah.

Across the street, Angie wiped the sweat from her forehead, her messy bun barely containing her damp hair as she moved the last of the boxes inside. Her parents had bought this property in Austin to be closer to her during a rough patch and to settle into a quieter life in the suburbs. Today’s scorching Texas heat seemed almost punishing, making her feel as if this exhausting day would never end. Inside, hills of boxes and scattered bubble wrap covered every corner of her new home. All she wanted was a cold shower before unwinding and unpacking in peace.

This move to Austin was supposed to be a fresh start. Angie’s engagement had ended bitterly, shattering her dreams of a future with Trey. She’d pictured marriage, a family, a life together — until he drifted away, leaving her for someone else under the cheap excuse he had to focus on his engineering career. Her parents had been nothing but supportive, and when she finally agreed to their plan to move closer, they wasted no time making it happen, but still threw some words along the line of ‘he’ll fall in line soon and will ask you back’, Angie, however, seemed determined to let Trey go once and for all. Now, standing amid all these boxes, Angie reminded herself that maybe, just maybe, this change would be good.

She let the cool water from the shower wash over her, sighing as the day’s stress melted away. The sweat and grime were replaced with the soft, clean scent of soap. She was drying off and feeling lighter when a sudden, persistent knock sounded at her door. Wrapping herself in a towel, she walked to the door, slightly annoyed.

“Mom, I said I don’t–” she began, opening the door, but paused when she saw a young girl standing there. The girl’s face was flushed, her fingers fidgeting nervously over her belly. She looked no older than thirteen. Angie raised her eyebrows, slightly concerned.

“Oh, hi sweetie,” she said gently, leaning against the doorframe.

“H-hi… I’m Sarah,” the girl stammered as she looked down, clearly embarrassed.

“How can I help you, kiddo?” Angie asked, folding her arms, her voice softening.

“I… I’m having… issues,” Sarah muttered, glancing down, her dark skinned cheeks turning pink. Angie paused, sensing what the problem might be but waiting for Sarah to say it herself.

“Issues?” Angie asked, tilting her head with a gentle smile.

“Yeah…” Sarah bit her lip, hesitating. “Girl issues?”

“You got your period, huh?” Angie asked, her voice warm with understanding. She smiled and rolled her eyes in sympathy. “Come on in, honey. I’m Angie, by the way.”

Sarah’s face lit up with relief, though her eyes still held a trace of sadness and uncertainty. “Thank you,” she whispered, grateful for the kindness of this stranger who had quickly become her lifeline.

“Don’t mind the mess, ‘just moved in,” Angie walked towards her bedroom as she loudly spoke, finding some tanktop and shorts to wear after showering herself.

“No troubles.” Sarah replied, standing still, once she was scared she would leave some stain in Angie’s couch. As soon as Angie returned, Sarah peeked at the older girl carrying a bag and having a towel wrapped around her head.

“Did your mom ever talk to you about periods?” She asked, placing the pink small bag over the table. Sarah narrowed her eyes, feeling an involuntary urge to cry as she heard the word “mom”. She never gave much thought to her mom or the fact she left her and Joel to live a dutiless life, but this new change in her body brought her new emotions that Sarah couldn’t fathom of where it came from. Her eyes teared up, triggered by that simple sentence and Angie looked at the child, concerned she said something she wasn’t supposed to.

“Oh, honey,” Angie murmured, realizing she had touched a nerve. She placed a comforting hand on Sarah’s shoulder, guiding her to the couch, where they sat together. “I’m so sorry if I said something that hurt you,” she said softly. “Look, why don’t we start by going through a few basics? I brought some things that might help. This little guy,” she said, pointing to a pad. “is going to be your new best friend for a few days each month. It might seem strange at first, but everyone’s been through it. I’ll walk you through how to use it. And, just so you know, cramps and weird feelings can come with the territory, too. That’s what these tablets are for, they’ll help with the stomach aches.”

Sarah’s eyes flickered to the chocolate bar, and Angie chuckled, nudging it towards her. “Chocolate helps too. I promise.”

A faint smile crossed Sarah’s lips, and she reached for the bar, unwrapping it slowly. “Thanks,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“No problem,” Angie replied, her tone light. “Periods can be damn bad, especially the first time. But once you get the hang of it, you’ll see it’s just a part of life.”

Sarah took a deep breath, her gaze focused on the pad as she tried to ignore the ache in her stomach. Angie handed it to her, explaining how it would attach to her underwear, going through the steps carefully but casually to keep things light. Once Sarah seemed to understand, Angie gently squeezed her shoulder. Sarah took a bite of chocolate, letting the sweetness calm her. She looked down at the pads on the table, still feeling a bit lost. “It’s just… I don’t know anything about this stuff,” she admitted, twisting the wrapper nervously. “I didn’t even know it would… hurt like this.”

“Y’know,” Angie added, showing her Texan accent. “it’s perfectly okay to feel whatever you’re feeling right now. Sad, scared, or even mad. ‘S a big change, and it can be a lot to take in. But I promise, it gets easier.”

“Does it? My belly hurts real bad now.” Sarah replied, pouting her lips as she pressed some heat from her hands over her abdomen. Angie laughed faintly and caressed the girl’s long curls.

“It does, sweetie,” Angie said, still patting her hair. “But there’ll be times you’ll be dying for your period to come.”

Sarah looked at Angie puzzled at face and then, Angie realized she was talking to a thirteen year old who had no idea of what she was talking about. “In a few years you’ll understand, kiddo.” She completed, grabbing her chin and Sarah shrugged.

“What about these?” Sarah asked, getting a long tampon in her hands, horrified by its size. “Do you put this like… right there?”

Angie crossed her arms after scratching her eyebrows and smiling briefly amongst the mess in her living room. “Yeah… this one might be too much for you now, kiddo. Let’s keep on the tampons for now, ‘kay?”

“Thanks,” Sarah said, her face relaxing a little. She glanced again at the tampon on the table, her curiosity lingering, but it was comforting to know she didn’t have to figure it all out right away.

“Anytime,” Angie replied, giving her a reassuring smile. “Y’can lay down in my bedroom. ‘S the only place is not full of boxes, I’ll get the heating pad warm for you.”

Meanwhile, Joel and Tommy strolled home beneath the relentless sun, the cold coming from the beer packs offering a welcome chill against their chests. The day was blazing, and they were more than ready to kick back and enjoy the afternoon ahead. “I was talkin’ with Herschel at the liquor store and he talked about this cute lil’ thing living right across the street,” Tommy said, waiting for Joel to open the front door. Joel remained silent, not giving too much thought about it. He had dated a few ladies in the past, but none worked out for him. For now, he was solely focused on raising Sarah.

“Tell me ‘bout that,” he replied, pretending to be interested in his brother’s typical womanizing chatter as he turned the key in the lock.

As they stepped inside, Joel paused, immediately noticing the unusual quiet that filled the house. The TV was off, and there was no trace of Sarah bustling around or playing music like she often did. Joel’s eyes drifted up the stairs, figuring she was probably in her room, getting ready for the neighbor’s pool party. He shrugged it off, glancing at Tommy, who raised an eyebrow in silent question.

“I saw her carrying loads of boxes into that house that belonged to that Thomas family who moved away to Arizona,” Tommy continued, getting into Joel’s home as he opened the door. “Guess that means she’s new to the neighborhood. What an eye-candy, all sweaty, beautiful legs, cute smile.”

Joel shrugged as he dropped his keys onto the table. “New neighbors, huh? That’s nice, I guess.” He walked into the living room, his mind still half-focused on Sarah and her quiet absence.

“C’mon, man! You should at least check her out!” Tommy urged, following Joel into the room. “Could be a good distraction for you.”

Joel shot him a look, half-amused and half-annoyed. “Not interested, Tommy. I’ve got enough on my plate right now.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t hurt to make some friends,” Tommy countered, a smirk spreading across his face. “Especially if they have those pretty legs like the new neighbor.”

Joel shook his head, unable to suppress a smile despite himself. “You’re an asshole.” He couldn’t help but appreciate Tommy’s enthusiasm, even if he had no intention of pursuing anything beyond his responsibilities. “Let’s just focus on getting ready for the party.” He said, trying to redirect the conversation. He called out for Sarah, raising his voice slightly. “Sarah!”

There was no response. He frowned and glanced toward the stairs, hearing only silence echoing back at him. “Hey, Sarah! You up there?” he tried again, a hint of concern creeping into his voice as he made his way toward the stairs.

Tommy followed him, still grinning. “She’s probably just taking her sweet time,” he said, crossing his arms. “You know how girls can be. Maybe she’s trying on every outfit she has.”

Joel roamed the second floor of his house, checking for his daughter. Looked inside his and her bedroom, the bathroom, nothing. A pang of worry fell upon Joel. “Tommy, check if Sarah’s downstairs!” Joel asked, yelling from the second floor as he went down the stairs. Tommy nodded, a hint of seriousness now creeping into his playful demeanor. He sprinted to the bottom of the stairs and looked around the living room. “Sarah! You down here?” he shouted, but only silence responded.

Joel reached the last step, his heart racing a little faster as he glanced around. “Sarah!” he called again, his voice laced with concern. “Where are you?”

He walked into the living room, scanning every corner, and then turned toward the kitchen, thinking she might be grabbing a snack. The kitchen was empty, too. Joel felt a knot tighten in his chest.

“Maybe she’s outside?” Tommy suggested, moving toward the back door. “You know how kids like to hang out in the yard when they think no one’s watching.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Joel replied, trying to push away the worry gnawing at him. As Tommy opened the door and stepped outside, Joel followed close behind. The bright sun hit him, and he squinted, scanning the backyard for any sign of his daughter.

“Sarah!” Tommy called out again, his voice carrying over the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Still no answer. Joel stepped further onto the patio, a sinking feeling settling deeper in his gut.

“Let’s check the front,” Joel suggested, feeling the need to cover all bases. As they moved around the house to the front yard, he felt an unsettling sense of urgency. “If she’s not in the backyard, she could have gone to the Adler’s or something.”

“Sarah!” Joel called out, stepping onto the porch and peering inside. “Are you in there?”

Just as he was about to knock, a voice floated back to him, a familiar voice, but tinged with uncertainty. “I’m here!” Sarah replied, her tone brightening with relief.

Joel exchanged a quick glance with Tommy, both of them relaxing slightly. They saw Sarah coming downstairs from the neighbor’s home with a girl next to her, stepping slowly as she carried a heating pad over her belly. “What’s going on, kiddo?” Joel asked, breathing relieved as he saw his daughter safe and sound, but puzzled as to why his daughter had brought a heating pad on the hottest day of June.

“Uh… hey,” Angie said, extending her hand at Joel, who shook hands with her briefly and mainly focusing on Sarah’s well-being. “My name’s Angie, I’m your new neighbor livin’ ‘cross the street. I’d take it easy on her, uh… she’s gone through a bit too much this last hour.”

“Um… hi Angie, thanks for watching her, I’m Joel.” Joel said, trying to be as polite as possible. “As for you, going out without my permission and disturbing the new neighbors Sarah, c’mon…” he finished, rolling his eyes.

“No, dad, you don’t get it…” Sarah said, trying to reason with Joel.

“Yeah, good luck with that, miss,” Tommy chimed in, his hands shoved into his pockets as he tried to disguise a laugh at the father-daughter exchange.

“She was actually looking for help,” Angie interjected, sensing the tension. “Sarah needed someone to talk to about… well, girl stuff. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.” Joel raised an eyebrow, momentarily confused. He exchanged a glance with Tommy, who seemed just as puzzled.

Angie approached them, holding out a bag filled with toiletries. “Hate to be the messenger, but your daughter went through, um… the change,” she said, her tone gentle but matter-of-fact.

Joel’s heart sank, and he felt like being hit like a ton of bricks as his cheeks grew red of embarrassment. He looked from Angie to Sarah, who stood there with a mixture of shame and vulnerability. “Oh,” he said slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You mean…”

“Yeah, I got my period,” Sarah admitted, her voice annoyed. “I didn’t know what to do, and Angie helped me.”

Tommy, realizing the gravity of the moment, stopped his teasing and looked at Sarah with an unexpected seriousness. “Hey kiddo, don’t feel bad” he said, trying to lighten the mood, but his tone was respectful. “You’re not alone in this.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, annoyance flooding her cheeks as she hid her face in her hands. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she muttered, wishing she could just disappear.

Joel took a deep breath, processing everything. “I’m glad you had someone to talk to, Sarah,” he said, his protective instincts kicking in. “But you should have come to me. I can help too.”

“No, Dad, you can’t! Ugh!” Sarah exclaimed, exasperation lacing her words. “You don’t understand! It’s just... embarrassing. Ugh! Nobody gets me!”

Angie watched the exchange, sensing the emotional intensity of the moment. She looked at Joel, unsure of how to proceed from there. This was clearly a delicate situation, and she wanted to offer support without overstepping. Tommy, sensing the need for space, quietly stepped back inside the house, leaving Sarah and Joel alone and closed the door behind him, allowing the father and daughter to have their moment without distraction.

“Sarah, honey, I think that you shouldn’ talk to your dad like this.” Angie said, with a soft voice as her heavy southern accent was shown. “I tell you that, go home and rest, take these with you.” Angie completed her sentence, giving Joel the sack of feminine products.

“Go home and rest. Sometimes just lying down for a bit can help. And if you need to talk, ’m right across the street,” she added, her tone reassuring.

Sarah hesitated, glancing at the items in Angie’s hand. “Thanks, I guess. But it’s just… weird.”

Angie chuckled lightly. “‘S part of life sweetie, in time things will settle.”

Joel nodded in agreement. “Angie’s right, kiddo. And I promise, it’s not as scary as it seems. Just remember, it’s a normal part of life.”

“You know nothing, dad,” Sarah hit back, rolling her eyes. Feeling the weight of their words, the girl took a deep breath. “Okay, okay. I’ll take them.” She reached out and accepted the items, a small smile breaking through her earlier frustration. “Thanks, Angie.”

“Anytime, sweet pea,” Angie replied, her voice filled with sincerity. “And if you need anything else, just knock on my door. Seriously.”

With a final glance between them, Sarah felt a little more at ease. “Alright, I’m heading home. I guess I can rest and NO PARTY for us!”

Sarah turned to walk away, speaking in a loud, grumpy and bossy tone. Joel grinned and scratched his eyes before looking at Angie more carefully. The girl was indeed a cute little thing with her hair humid and wavy, her features so delicate and feminine that it became almost impossible to not notice her. Her lips were also perfectly shaped. He couldn’t deny, she really was an eye-candy just like Tommy said, but he was quick to send these thoughts away.

“Uh… I had no chance to say thank you. You’re probably full of stuff to do and-...” Joel said, strangely clumsy around the girl before she interrupted him. Angie, on the other hand, found Joel really attractive with his broad shoulders and messy curls, covered in sweat. However, she was also quick to shoo these thoughts away, once she didn’t want to suffer from another bad relationship. For now, Angie wanted to take care of herself. “How much all the… uh, lady products,” he scoffed, oddly timid. “Costed?”

She chuckled gently, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Hey, don’t worry ‘bout that. I’ve been in her place back in the day, it’s tough. Besides, she’s a peach so don’t worry about a thing ‘kay? Face this as a gift from a new neighbor.”

Joel beamed, proud from the education he gave to his daughter. “Yeah but, uh… will she always be this cranky? She was this sweet little girl just yesterday and now looks like a monster swallowed my daughter.”

Angie raised her eyebrows, laughing. “You’ll learn how to handle it just in time. My old man took a while to get used to it too.”

Joel laughed faintly, ignoring the sun towering them. “Y’know what? Why don’t you join us for dinner? The party I’d go to is ruined now so I have loads of beer untouched. I’m no chef but I could cook somethin’ nice. Just a way to say thank you for taking care of my baby girl.”

“I don’t wanna bother anyone, Joel. Really…” Angie said, with a sincere expression.

“C’mon, I insist. You went out of your way to take care of a kid you barely knew.” Joel beamed, crossing his arms.

Angie sighed and smiled as she scratched her eyebrows, nodding her head reluctantly. “Alright, fine. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Not at all, sweetheart.” Joel said, leaving a thrill down Angie’s spine as soon as he called her by a term of endearment. “See ya.”

“See ya.” Angie said, going back to her house.

—

Angie closed the door behind her, biting her lips as her mind recollected the last moments with Sarah’s dad. He was a nice guy, your regular guy next door: talk, muscular, kind, handsome, charming and seemingly a good father. Joel seemed to be a perfect guy for Angie on paper and she couldn’t deny the instant attraction she felt for him as soon as she laid her eyes on him. Although, at the same time, Angie was still mourning the end of her relationship with Trey and everything he could be with her, it ached her heart knowing he was already engaged to a girl who apparently wanted the same things as him. Angie needed to learn how to be alone and get back on her feet first and then, she would think about dating someone else.

Later that evening, Angie started prepping for the dinner Joel had invited her to. She didn’t want to overdress, but she also didn’t want to show up looking like she hadn’t given it any thought. She opted for a simple, casual dress, something comfortable but flattering. As she checked herself in the mirror one last time, Angie took a deep breath.

As she walked to Joel’s home across the street, she felt a slight shame since she couldn’t prepare any meal for the dinner, since her kitchen wasn’t set up yet. The fresh evening air helped to settle her nerves, though, and by the time she reached his door, she felt more at ease. She rang the bell and a few seconds later, Joel opened the door. His expression softened as he saw her, a warm smile spreading across his face.

“Glad you came,” he said, stepping aside to let her in.

“Thanks again for inviting me,” Angie replied, stepping over the threshold. “Sorry for not bringing anything, my kitchen isn’t set up yet.”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, sweetie, you’re our guest,” Joel’s place was cozy and welcoming, a blend of his laid-back personality and something subtly protective. The aroma of a home-cooked meal lingered in the air, and Angie felt an unexpected pang of nostalgia for moments like this.

“Oh it smells good for sure,” Angie said, laughing as she walked inside his house. “Your house is beautiful, by the way.”

“Thank you darlin’, I made ‘few pieces from the furniture,” he said, placing his hand over the thick wood on the counter.”

Angie widened her eyes, surprised as she looked at the fine wooden mobilia. “How talented. Are you a carpenter?”

“Contractor. Me and my brother, Tommy. The one you saw earlier.” He said, sitting on the couch alongside Angie, who adjusted the skirt of her dress as she sat comfortably on.

“Well, my parents will definitely need your services one of these days,” she said, glancing upstairs with a subtle curiosity for any sign of Sarah.

"Oh, really?" Joel arched a brow in surprise, a soft smile pulling at his lips. "Thinking about renovations already, darlin'?"

"Well, sorta," she chuckled. "They’re letting me stay in the guest house for a while. ‘S temporary, just until they settle into the main place and decide what to do with it. It’s… a nice way for me to get back on my feet too.”

Joel nodded thoughtfully. “That’s great. It’s hard to find good places that feel like home right away, you know? Sounds like they’re lookin’ out for you.”

“Yeah, I think so,” she replied, smiling softly as she glanced around his house again. “Funny enough, this neighborhood already feels a little like home.”

"'S a nice neighborhood to live in," Joel agreed, his voice soft. "Very peaceful, just good folks all around. Just a shame I’ll have to get used to not seeing you here eventually."

Angie’s cheeks flushed, and she felt a flutter in her chest at his words. "Well, thank you, but I wouldn’t worry too much. I’ll stick around a while." She chuckled. "Had to leave my ol’ job in Dalla to make this move.”

Joel’s eyebrows raised in surprise. "Dallas, huh? That’s a big shift."

“Yeah,” she replied with a shrug. "My folks thought it’d be a good time for me to slow down a bit… and I think they’re right. But it’s a whole new chapter."

Joel nodded. "Big change, but you’ll fit in just fine here. And who knows, maybe we can convince you to stay longer than you’re planning." He shot her a warm, playful look, letting the words hang with a hint of invitation. “I know for a fact that Sarah was already talking ‘bout how cool you are.”

Angie laughed, letting the ease of his company make her feel even more at home. "Well, don’t go making offers like that. I just might take you up on it." She met his gaze, feeling a spark pass between them that was both comforting and scary.

“Dad!” Sarah’s voice echoed as she bounded down the stairs, breaking the quiet warmth that had settled between Joel and Angie.

Joel straightened, glancing over at Angie with a quick, sheepish smile before turning to Sarah. "Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

“Hey Angie, you came.” Sarah said, greeting the older girl with a tight embrace, which Angie accepted just fine.

“I see you got better, my dear.” Angie said, releasing the girl from her arms.

Sarah nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m good now,” she said, flashing a shy smile toward Angie. “Thanks for... you know, helping me out.”

Angie smiled warmly. “Anytime, Sarah. You’ve got this.”

“We were just waitin’ for you, baby. Let’s go before the dinner gets cold,” Joel said, guiding the girls towards the kitchen. Angie felt a quiet warmth settle over her as she realized how rare and precious connections like this could be. It was something she hadn't felt in a long time. As the evening wore on, a gentle silence settled between them, one that didn’t feel the least bit awkward or demanding.

“So, Angie,” Joel began after swallowing a bite of his steak. “You were tellin’ me you had to find a new job in the city. What d’you work with, darlin’?”

“I’m a hairdresser.” Angie replied as she had a sip of her beer, watching Sarah’s eyes widening as she spoke.

“That’s so cool! You could do my hair like Janet Jackson’s sometime!” The girl said, excitedly.

“Kiddo, let’s not abuse from the good will of Angie,” Joel scratched his beard, slightly shy for her behavior. Either way, he had to admit it was cute to see his girl so excited over someone, he figured that Angie could be a good influence on her just for the short amount of time they spent together.

"Relax, we can arrange that, honey," Angie reassured, giving Sarah a warm smile. "But, between us? I think your natural curls are way prettier. Had a friend in beauty school, she had these beautiful curls, all big and curly like yours," Angie said, eating a piece of vegetable quickly. “She taught me ‘few things. I can show you how to make your hair even prettier.”

“Thanks, Angie,” Sarah replied, with a soft smile.

Joel nodded, watching Sarah’s confidence grow under their attention. "Don’t you have a friend whose mom works at that hair salon downtown, darlin’?” he asked, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

Sarah nodded as she took a sip of her juice. “Yeah, Ellie’s mom,” she replied, glancing up curiously.

Joel raised an eyebrow, casting a quick look at Angie. “Well, maybe next time you’re over there, you can mention Angie to her mom. She’s lookin’ for a job.”

Angie’s eyes widened, her surprise quickly melting into a smile. “Oh, Joel, you don’t have to do that,” she said, though she was clearly touched by his thoughtfulness.

"Sure I do,” he replied warmly. "Good folks ought to help each other out. Besides, Sarah’s got the inside track on the best stylist in town now.”

Sarah grinned, clearly pleased to be involved in a conversation that felt almost grown-up, as though she were part of some small conspiracy between them. She looked from Joel to Angie, excitement dancing in her eyes. “I can do that!”

Angie laughed softly. "Guess I better thank you both then,” she said, her gaze meeting Joel’s with appreciation.

Joel shrugged, his voice warm. “Like I said, just lookin' out for good people.” Angie smiled tenderly at Joel, nodding at him in a silent gratefulness.

As the evening went on, laughter and conversation flowed easily, but eventually a comfortable silence settled around them, a stillness that didn’t need to be filled. They shared small smiles across the table, each appreciating the peace that came with the evening. Sarah eventually fell asleep as they watched a random movie on the TV. Joel glanced at Angie, his gaze steady and kind, as though he, too, was almost surrendering himself to sleep.

“Oh, guess someone fell asleep,” Angie murmured with a soft smile as she noticed Sarah’s eyelids drooping. Joel smiled silently, reaching to lift his daughter in his arms.

“She’s always like that,” he whispered, his voice warm as he carried Sarah upstairs, cradling her gently. Angie followed quietly, watching as Joel carefully tucked Sarah into bed, smoothing the duvet around her with a tenderness that softened his rough edges. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before turning back to Angie, who stood by the doorway, watching the scene with a softened gaze.

Once they stepped into the hallway, Angie took a breath, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Well… I guess I should get going,” she said, gathering her things with a polite smile.

But as she stood there, a small pang of sadness flickered in her chest, remembering memories of promises that once meant the world to her. Trey had once promised he’d be there to tuck their future kids into bed every night, and for a moment, Angie felt the ache of his absence more sharply than usual. She missed the life she had once imagined, even if she couldn’t quite say it out loud.

Joel’s voice broke her reverie, low and inviting. “You should stay. Have a beer with me,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on hers as he gently closed Sarah’s bedroom door behind him.

Angie smiled, her heart lifting despite herself. “Thank you, Joel. But maybe we could both use a good rest tonight,” she replied softly, her southern accent wrapping around the words in a way that felt warm, even comforting.

Joel tilted his head, his own accent thickening as he spoke. “Fair enough,” he said, a hint of warmth in his voice. “Feels like we’ve known each other longer than just a day,” he said softly, a faint smile touching his lips.

Angie met his gaze, her own smile forming. “Yeah, it does. Funny how that happens sometimes, isn’t it?”

Joel nodded, his eyes warm. “Guess it’s not every day you find someone who just… fits.” He looked down, almost shy, before adding, “Or who’s willing to help out a clueless dad in the middle of all this.”

Angie laughed softly. “You’re not clueless at all, Joel. And besides, I don’t mind bein’ around to help, if you’ll let me.”

Joel’s smile deepened, a look of quiet gratitude passing over his face. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Angie’s gaze lingered on Joel, her heart fluttering with an unexpected warmth. Just one day into her new life in the suburbs of Austin, and here she was, falling for a man’s charm with the same ease that had always led her to trouble. She felt like that naive girl once more, melting under his sweet talk, the magnetic pull between them undeniable yet unsettling. But she shook her head slightly, a small frown creasing her brow. Angie knew she had to exercise some discipline in her thoughts, because she knew well that right there, she was being the same needy girl that she was trying to leave behind. It was easy to get swept up in the moment, but she couldn’t forget the reasons she had moved away from Dallas. This new beginning was about rebuilding herself away from her past and the disappointment of Trey.

“I should probably get going,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction as they stood by the door. “You know, get some rest and all.”

Joel nodded, a hint of reluctance in his expression. “Sure, but you’re welcome here anytime. I mean it. Sarah could use a friend like you, and so could I.” His sincerity made her heart ache with possibility. ‘Friendship, Angie. That’s all he wants from you.’, that’s what Angie tried to repeat in her mind like a mantra.

Angie took a deep breath, grounding herself. “G’night, Joel.” She said, walking away from the Miller’s door, walking towards hers across the street.

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tobiasdrake · 3 days ago

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Here we go, it's Ranma time. Episode 5! The introduction to Ryoga continues.

God, I love how mournfully quiet this is.

This is what happens when women write women. Male writers don't often think about things like just how much a long-haired girl's hair means to her. Akane's been growing that out for years.

Look at how little she was when she started growing her hair. That is the product of years. Many years. Gone in an instant.

But she rolls with the punches. Akane has remarkable emotional fortitude. She'd kind of have to in order to survive all the shit she's had to put up with in her day-to-day life.

I love that they leave so much unstated, yet clearly implied, about the way her long hair relates to her longstanding crush on Dr. Tofu. When she says she wants to grow it out so she can be like Kasumi, there's an implication there that she thinks Dr. Tofu will like her more if she has Kasumi's hairstyle.

She's trying to walk in her big sister's shoes so that the man who likes her big sister might look her way. An idea that was doomed from the moment of its conception. She was never going to beat Kasumi at being Kasumi, and if she has to try, then she's already failed.

The manga's a bit more explicit about this, as Kasumi directly tells Baby Akane that Dr. Tofu won't like her very much if she keeps acting like a boy. From that, she draws the conclusion that having hair like Kasumi will make him like her more. But the reboot anime keeps it implied and understated.

So there's a lot going on here when Akane breaks down and cries into Dr. Tofu's chest. This is the end of an era. The loss of her hair symbolizes the death of a child's dream. The end of her efforts to be more like Kasumi so that this man would like her better, and the beginning of a new era where someone else out there will like her for being Akane.

While also demonstrating how much she leans on and depends on Dr. Tofu as a stabilizing figure in her life. She feels safe enough with him to finally let down her walls and cry out the grief over her lost hair, in a way she doesn't have at school or at home. Ironically mourning the death of her pursuit of him to him.

My dude, you desperately need to get a hobby. Supervillains are more considerate. Giving some real Vegeta energy here, but specifically the TeamFourStar kind.

And also the Tendo home desperately needs to get some door locks because he just strolled right on in here to do this.

And they both get punished for this.

Story of Ranma's life.

Takahashi's comedy remains incredible. Kasumi objects to Akane going out there not because she doesn't think Akane can take the mystery robber but because she wants Akane to hit him with something heavier.

I want that too. So Kasumi and I are on the same page.

She does, too. Nails Ryoga right in the back of the neck with a long-range shotput throw of that fucking barbell. Akane wins Ranma v. Ryoga, Round 2.

The moral of the story is to... not... do... anything that Ryoga did here.

...or, really, anything that Ryoga ever does. Don't be like Ryoga. That's sound life advice. (Not that the rest of the cast is any better.)

Immediately followed by Kasumi with another punchline. Man, I did not remember how funny she is.

Akane's rematch with Ryoga goes super well too. She is on fire.

Sincerely want to know what could possibly have possessed him to think jumping Akane while in piglet form was a good idea.

So begins the saga of P-chan.

AND ALL FOR BREAD AND BREAD-RELATED PRODUCTS

My dude.

The curry bun was not worth it.

Like.

Like. The part where Ranma knocked Ryoga into the piggy spring without noticing and then Genma tried to fucking eat him? Yeah. I can see being homicidally mad about that.

But he didn't even know that was them until literally this scene. Everything up to this point has been Ryoga blaming Ranma because he, Ryoga, stalked Ranma to China to avenge his curry bun.

Speaking of Genma.

I love how he just walks in on his son in girly form having Naked Bath Time with some random boy, and his response is to just... apologize and peace out. Whatever this is, it's none of his business.

Actually, not just any random boy. Specifically the random boy that got Ranma in trouble earlier tonight when he snuck into their bedroom for a late-night call.

Genma definitely thinks these two are up to shenanigans.

Literally the only member of her family that actually objects to Ranma sneaking into Akane's room late at night to do shenanigans to her (read: trying to fucking extract Ryoga from an unsuspecting Akane's bed) is Kasumi. Who merely scolds Ranma for moving too fast.

Is it any wonder she doesn't feel safe being emotionally vulnerable at home?

(Seriously, though, there is so much drama that could be avoided if Ranma would just tell Akane that P-chan is Ryoga. She has a right to know that, and not telling her makes Ranma complicit in Ryoga's shittiness.)

#ranma 1/2 #drake watches ranma reboot

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mochie-is-a-librarian · 2 days ago

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Sanji x Reader with an ED

a/n: a lot of my fics are really self indulgent, I’ve been struggling with this as of recent, and I’m just writing down how shifting to one piece and hanging out with sanji has really helped me eat in a less self destructive way. Like I said I make self indulgent fics but I can always take requests. If you are struggling with an ED please talk to someone before it gets bad, I’ve been hospitalized and it is not fun, so please take care of yourself pebbles, you are loved <3

c/tw: mentioned of bulimia nervosa, vomiting, and eating disorders, afab reader (bc I’m a little girly and I write for the girlies until asked not to), reader cries at some point, I’m watching the anime but I honestly prefer the live action, so this is live action sanji. read safely pebbles.

Sanji wasn’t an idiot, don’t think he didn’t notice.

the way you’d excuse yourself from the dinner table, lock yourself in the bathroom for a few minutes, then come back looking like a mess.

he noticed.

and he was freaking the fuck out.

his love language was cooking for you, if he couldn’t cook for you then he felt useless.

So as you sat down in the kitchen (before everyone else mind you) sanji sets a plate in front of you but the meal isn’t extravagant. It’s simple. Enough to be filling but not so much that it’d make you sick.

“What’s this?” You ask, slightly shocked.

“Oh nothing special,” sanji said with a shrug. “Bulimia is a very serious condition, I’d hate to see you getting sick again.” Sanji says, turning back to the rest of the food. “If it isn’t to your liking I can just serve you a small portion of what everyone else is having.”

you fall silent.

he made something special for you so you didn’t force yourself to get sick.

you start crying.

sanji quickly rushed to turn off the stove, hurrying to your side. “Woah woah woah, did I do something wrong? Are you okay?” You nod, wiping your eyes.

“No one used to care,” you explain tearfully.

“Well I care.” Sanji says, taking your hands in his. “We’ll start here and work our way up to bigger portions, you tell me whenever you’re ready for that, okay? I think you’re perfect, no need to lose any weight. Besides, vomiting does nothing for weight loss, you’re just making yourself sick for nothing.” Sanji wipes your eyes, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And that’s how your boyfriend single-handedly helped break you out of an eating disorder.

#sanji #sanji vinsmoke #opla sanji #opla #one piece

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captn-trex · 2 days ago

Text

dear lord roy, this is so fantastic

i have many many many thoughts so I'm putting them below the cut

first of all

"Oh?" Thorn raises an eyebrow, a grin appearing on his face. "What kind of person?" Heaving a sigh, Fox brushes past him. "The kind that matters."

in relation to that.. this moment specifically where he looks in the mirror:

alright now I'm about to rant

I love the way you write Fox so much but it feels like so much more than that. I feel like, fundamentally, the character of fox doesn't really exist. Anything we 'know' about his character is basically all fanon, so in essence you've just created this character who is so BEAUTIFUL and just oh my god so fucking amazing and multi-faceted and who has been taken on this beautiful journey throughout this fic where it's not just him falling in love with someone else, it's him realising that he can feel emotions he didn't think himself capable of, and learning that he's worthy of love and that's just ntgkjvsdbrnj AMAZING

The bruises under his eyes, the gauntness of his cheeks, the paleness of his skin, all reminders of the long nights, and the stress, and the constant strain of his job. But underneath that, is a look of peace, of happiness, that he's never seen before. You make him happy, he realizes. He hadn't known it was possible, but you're the first person who's made him feel like this, who's brought joy to his life. He'd resigned himself to his fate, had decided that happiness wasn't in the cards for him, but now, faced with the possibility of a different future, one with you, he feels hopeful.

like abfhs he thinks that he's just not made to be happy but he comes to realise that it's not true??? that makes me want to cry

and I very much love the reader character throughout this fic. I love "I'm glad you're still here", I love "Do you really think I'd say no", I love "It does mean something" and "It means a lot", I love Fox receiving affection so easily !!! especially because he's so hard on himself all the time, and he puts the needs of everyone else before himself in a way that isn't recognised as heroic, but just necessary - even by him, because it's all under the guise of 'just doing his job' and when he cant keep everyone safe he feels like he's failed. but the reader in this just tells him how it is and wants to make sure he's okay because she knows he wont. i love that shit so much omg

particularly very like this moment too:

It's not just the sex. It's the fact that it's you, that it's your body against his, that he's touching you, holding you. He's wanted this for so long, had convinced himself that it would never happen. But here you are, and you're his, and it's everything he's ever dreamed of.

convincing himself that it wouldn't happen, that he's not deserving of such things nrgisnf it breaks my heart but then the relationship between him and the reader puts it together again

like with this..

"I understand if you don't," he replies. His voice is steady, though his heart is pounding. The thought of you rejecting him is almost unbearable. [...] "Do you really think I'd say no?" His mouth twists, and he glances away, his jaw clenching.

anyway

he's still so paranoid even after everything like goddamn bro is so damaged, which is really interesting to me. [I'm just kinda going off on my own headcanons of your creation now lol] It's maybe because he's always the one taking care of everyone/everything and not receiving any thanks for it. he does long hours and works himself to the bone for the chancellor and he worries to no end about his brothers (like oh my god his inner monologue when Thorn got hurt I was clutching my chest) but because he's the guy in charge, ordering everyone about, he isn't spared the same care. certainly not from palpatine, but i suppose that's not a shock lol. So he's just not used to being given back the care that he gives, so much so that he almost expects rejection because he feels like he'll never have someone match the way he feels or the amount of effort put into something. His reaction to "do you really think I'd say no?" is so heartbreaking to me idkkk like to me it reads as if he's ashamed that he thinks she'd reject him, but he just can't help it because of what he's come to expect from people.

in conclusion, this fic was good as fuck

THANK YOU FOR WRITING IT

Too Sweet

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Pairing: Fox x fem!Reader / Fox x Doctor!Reader

Words: 7,709/26,525

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, strangers to lovers, grumpy/sunshine, Fox is a little anxious/paranoid, and he needs a hug, Fox gets his hug, and a hell of a lot more, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjob, praise kink, quite wholesome as far as smut goes

Summary: Fox has no time for romance. He doesn't even have time for sleep, let alone dates. But when a horrible day at work leads him to you, he suddenly finds himself in danger of reevaluating his priorities.

A/N: We made it! Everything is fine! Everyone is fine!

Fox is exhausted.

The night has been filled with nothing but reports, meetings, and arguments, and the stress of the situation has his nerves frayed. The Senate has been evacuated, and the Chancellor has relocated to a secure location, but the damage is extensive. The majority of the city is still without power, the lower levels in particular are cut off, and the lack of communications is making things even more difficult. The only things the Chancellor and the Council have agreed on is the need for a joint task force to deal with the immediate threat and instituting mandatory blackouts.

The worst part is that the attack was almost too easy. Fox had been preparing for months, had been working tirelessly to stop a scenario like this from happening, and the fact that his efforts had failed is a hard pill to swallow. It makes him question everything, his abilities, his judgement, and the thought that all his planning, all his preparation, was useless is infuriating.

He rubs his temples, the fatigue hitting him like a punch to the gut. It's late, or early, depending on how he looks at it, and he's been going nonstop for hours. His comm has been ringing off the hook, messages and reports flooding in, and he hasn't had a chance to breathe.

But, despite his exhaustion, his mind is focused on one thing, or rather, one person.

He hasn't heard from you since he left, and the radio silence is driving him crazy. He'd wanted to comm you, to check in, but he'd been too busy, and the lack of contact is worrying. The longer he goes without hearing from you, the more anxious he gets, and by the time his shift is supposed to end, his mind is racing. He can't leave, not with everything going on, but the thought of you, alone, is making him crazy.

He tries to call you, but the comm goes straight to voicemail, and the knot in his chest grows. The lack of news, the not knowing, is the worst part, and the longer he sits there, the more restless he gets. Finally, he decides that he can't wait anymore.

"Stone," Fox calls out as he pushes away from his desk and stands.

"Sir."

"Take over for me."

"Are you going somewhere?" Stone asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes."

“Where are you going?" Thorn asks, his voice filled with concern.

The other commander is leaning against the door frame, his helmet under his arm. His armor is scratched, and there are bruises under his eyes, but his gaze is sharp, and his stance is steady. Fox had been afraid that his brother would push himself too far, too soon, but the man had insisted on coming back to work, and the Chancellor had allowed it, so there wasn't much Fox could do.

"I need to check on someone," Fox mutters, and he grabs his helmet, pulling it on.

"Who?"

"A friend."

"You don't have friends,” Thorn teases. Fox rolls his eyes.

"A...a person," he amends. The words are out before he can stop himself. It's too soon, far too soon, but it's not like his brothers don’t already suspect. Besides, if things go his way, then they’ll be happy for him. At least, he hopes so.

"Oh?" Thorn raises an eyebrow, a grin appearing on his face. "What kind of person?"

Heaving a sigh, Fox brushes past him.

"The kind that matters."

It doesn't take long for Fox to make it to your apartment.

The city is eerily quiet, the streets deserted, the buildings dark. It’s early morning, the sky just starting to lighten, and the sight is surreal. There are no sounds, no traffic, no speeders, no sirens. Just the silence, and the glow of the sun, and the ash settling on the ground. It's an unsettling feeling, being in the middle of the city without a single person around, and the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

Fox climbs the stairs to your building and knocks on the door, the sound echoing in the silence. Power hasn’t been restored to the area yet, and the lights are off, the curtains drawn. He waits a moment, and then knocks again.

"It's me," he calls.

He listens, but the only response is the sound of the wind, whistling through the empty streets.

"Hey," he says, louder this time. "Open the door."

Still nothing.

His heart starts to race, his pulse jumping, and his mouth goes dry. Something's wrong, very, very wrong.

Fox pounds on the door. The noise echoes in the courtyard, and the sound of his fist on the metal is loud, far too loud. The silence is deafening, and his mind conjures a thousand scenarios, each more horrible than the last.

You have to be okay, you have to be. He can't handle the thought of anything happening to you, the idea that he'd been too late, or that he hadn't been able to protect you, is unbearable. If something had happened, if you were gone, he'd never forgive himself.

"Please," he begs. His voice is strained, the desperation bleeding through. The emotion in his tone is startling, even to him, and the realization of how much he cares about you is like a punch to the gut. He'd never cared about anyone like this before, had never let himself get so close. But now, with the threat of losing you looming, he realizes how much he needs you, how much he wants you, how badly he wants to have a chance with you.

Fox closes his eyes, the panic rising, his hands curling into fists.

"Please," he whispers.

There's a soft click, and his eyes snap open.

You're standing there, and you're alive, and Fox nearly collapses.

"Oh, thank the Maker," he breathes.

"Fox," you sigh. You throw yourself into his arms, and he catches you, pulling you close. His armor digs into your skin, but you don't seem to care, clinging to him with a desperation that makes his heart clench. “You came back.”

“I said I would," he reminds you. He presses his head against yours, his helmet bumping against your cheek, and he holds you tighter, his fingers digging into your back. "I'm here. I'm right here."

"I was so worried," you confess, your voice breaking. “My comm was crushed, and the power's out, and—"

"Shh, it's okay," he murmurs. "You're safe now. I've got you."

"Promise?"

"Promise," he breathes. "I'm sorry. I tried to get here sooner, but—"

"No," you protest. You pull back and press your hands to his chest plate, staring up at him. There are tears on your cheeks, and the sight is enough to make him want to break. You wipe them away and give him a small smile. "You don't need to apologize. I know how important your work is. You're here now."

"Yeah."

The two of you stare at each other, the tension stretching between the two of you, and then, suddenly, your hands are on the sides of his helmet, and his are cupping your cheeks, and the next thing he knows, his helmet is on the floor, and his lips are on yours.

The kiss is rough, and messy, and desperate. Your hands are tangled in his hair, your bodies pressed together, and he groans into your mouth, his arms wrapping around you. You taste like salt, and the smell of lavender surrounds him, and he presses closer, the contact making his stomach flutter. He'd never imagined kissing you, had never even considered it, but now, faced with the reality, he can't believe he'd wasted so much time.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into the apartment. He follows blindly, too distracted by the feeling of your lips against his, the sensation of your fingers in his hair. You're walking backwards, leading him, and his hands find their way to your waist. He grips you tightly, his fingers digging into your skin, and the sound you make sends a rush of heat through him.

You bump into your kitchen island, and he pauses, his mouth moving from yours to the skin of your neck. He trails kisses along your jaw, down the side of your throat, his teeth grazing the delicate flesh. You let out a breathy moan, arching into him, and his pulse jumps.

The two of you are frantic, your hands grabbing at each other, your bodies pressing together. You’re lifted onto the counter before he even registers what he's doing, and you let out a breathless laugh, your legs wrapping around his waist. The feeling of you wrapped around him makes him dizzy, every point of contact sending a rush of heat through him. His fingers fumble, and his body shakes, and he lets out a ragged breath, his forehead falling against yours.

"Is this okay?” you ask. Your fingers are tangled in his hair, your lips brushing against his, and the closeness is dizzying. He nods, not trusting his voice, and you grin, tugging gently on his hair.

"Yeah," he manages, his voice hoarse. He’s rewarded with a smile, the warmth of your lips on his cheek, and the gesture is so tender, so affectionate, that it steals his breath.

He's never had this, not with anyone. This connection, this closeness, this intimacy. It's exhilarating, and terrifying, and wonderful, and he can't believe it's real. That you're real. That this is happening.

And the fact that it's you, that the person who's finally broken through his defenses, who's gotten past the walls, is the person he wants most?

“Perfect,” he sighs.

The word is meant for you, but the meaning is universal. Everything is perfect, from the feeling of your fingers in his hair, the warmth of your breath against his skin, the weight of your body against his. The fact that you're in his arms, that he's kissing you, is the best thing he's ever felt.

Fox leans forward and presses a kiss to your jaw, and the gasp you let out is enough to make his stomach twist. "So perfect.”

"You are," you manage.

"No, you," he insists. He trails kisses down your neck, and you shiver, your hands clutching his shoulders. Your skin is soft, and the warmth of it is addicting, and he wants to taste every inch of it. "Sweet girl."

You moan, and the sound makes him smirk.

"That's what I thought," he breathes, his voice low. "You like that, don't you?"

"I like anything you do to me."

"Good," he murmurs, and he leans forward and presses a kiss to the skin above your shirt, his teeth scraping along the delicate flesh. "Because I'm going to do so many things to you."

Your response is cut off by the ringing of his comm, and the two of you freeze. Fox blinks, trying to regain his focus, and he reluctantly pulls back. The look on your face is disappointed, and a little dazed, and the sight makes him feel smug. It's a good look on you, he decides. Especially with him being the one who put it there.

"Hold that thought," he orders.

You nod, your eyes wide, and he lets go of you, lifting his wrist. He moves away, and he watches out of the corner of his eye as you slide off the counter and make your way to the living room. You wrap a blanket around your shoulders and sink onto the couch, giving him a shy smile.

He smiles back and answers the comm, his eyes fixed on you.

“This better be good,” he snaps, his tone cold. He doesn't look away from you, and you let out a giggle, clearly amused by his demeanor. The sound is infectious, and the corners of his lips twitch, his eyes crinkling.

He gives you a wink, and you blush, burying your face in the blanket.

"Commander.”

"Stone," Fox sighs. He runs a hand over his hair, smoothing the strands you'd mussed, and he takes a breath. He can still feel your lips against his, and the thought of what might have happened, what still could happen, is distracting.

"Sorry, Fox," Stone replies. There's a grin in his voice, and Fox grits his teeth, turning away. “I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No," he snaps, glaring at the floor. "What do you want?"

"Thorn wanted to let you know that we're heading out on patrol. You still wanna join us?"

He glances over at you. You're watching him, the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, and the sight of you, warm and comfortable and waiting for him, is a balm on his frayed nerves. A wave of fatigue washes over him, and he turns away, his shoulders slumping.

"No.”

“No?”

"Are you sure?" Thorn cuts in, amused. "We can come pick you up."

"I said no," Fox snaps.

"Alright," he drawls. "Guess we'll have to manage without our fearless leader."

"I'm not your leader right now," Fox mutters. He can practically hear Thorn's eyes roll. "You don't need me, and I'm taking the rest of the day off."

There's a pause, and he can picture the shocked expressions on his brothers' faces.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I have more important things to do," he mutters. He glances back at you, his heart skipping a beat. The sight of you makes his chest warm, and he swallows, the words sticking in his throat. Finally, he manages, "Don't call me unless the building is on fire, or the Chancellor is dead. And make sure the rest of them know, as well."

“Who are you, and what have you done with our commander?" Thorn demands. Fox rolls his eyes, his lips twitching.

"Just go," he orders. "I'll check in later."

"If you say so," Stone murmurs.

"See you later," Thorn adds. "Say hi to Doc for me."

The line clicks off, and Fox rips off his vambrace and tosses it onto the counter, the other one quickly following. He pulls off his pauldrons, and the kama and belt, his eyes fixed on you. You raise an eyebrow, clearly surprised by his actions, but the surprise on your face quickly changes to delight, your eyes widening, your mouth dropping open.

"Are you—"

"Off duty," Fox confirms. He crosses the room and sits beside you, pulling the blanket over his legs. The exhaustion hits him as soon as he's off his feet, and he groans, leaning his head back against the cushions. He closes his eyes, letting out a breath, and the tension slowly starts to drain from his body.

"Fox?"

"I'm fine," he assures you, trying to disguise the yawn that escapes. You snuggle closer, draping the blanket over his legs, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, his fingers stroking the soft skin of your arm.

"No, you're not," you murmur. "When's the last time you slept?"

"Uh."

"Nevermind," you sigh. You rest your head on his shoulder, your arm wrapping around his torso. He tenses for a moment, the contact sending a rush of warmth through him, and he relaxes, pulling you closer. "It doesn't matter."

"Mm-hmm."

"I think you should rest."

"Yeah," he agrees, his voice fading. He's exhausted, the night finally catching up with him, and the warmth of the apartment, and the feeling of your body against his, is making him drowsy.

"Fox," you breathe.

"Hm?"

"Come here," you murmur, and you stand, reaching down. You grab his hand, pulling him up, and the two of you make your way down the hall. The apartment is dark, and he can barely see, but he trusts you, and you lead him without hesitation.

You pause in front of a door, and he blinks, his eyes adjusting. There's light spilling into the room from a window, and he can make out the shape of a bed, and the dresser, and the desk. You reach over, fumbling for the switch, and the lamp flickers on, casting a dim glow through the space.

"Is this your room?" he asks. His voice is hoarse, his eyelids heavy, and the fatigue is making his words slur.

You hum an affirmative as you lead him across the room and help him sit on the bed, his knees weak. You kneel and undo his boots, sliding them off his feet, and he watches, his heart skipping a beat The feeling of your fingers against his skin, the gentle way you're handling him, the sight of you, kneeling at his feet, is almost more than he can take.

"There," you say, smiling.

You stand, and he stares up at you, his eyes wide, his breath caught in his chest. You're a vision, an angel, the perfect woman, and the fact that you're even looking at him is a miracle. That you're touching him, taking care of him, is more than he deserves, and the emotion that rushes through him is so strong, so powerful, that his head spins.

"What is it?" you ask, frowning. "Do you need something else?"

"You," he whispers.

"Me?"

"Just...stay with me."

"Okay," you promise, nodding. You lean forward and press a kiss to his forehead. "I'll stay. Just let me change."

"Sure," he sighs, though the thought of waiting is disappointing.

"Don't go anywhere," you tease, giving him a smile. You turn and walk away, crossing the room, and Fox stares after you, a dumbstruck expression on his face. He doesn't look away until the door shuts, blocking his view, and he blinks, trying to clear his mind.

Fox looks around, his eyes falling on the dresser. There's a mirror hanging above it, and his reflection catches his eye, and he frowns. The bruises under his eyes, the gauntness of his cheeks, the paleness of his skin, all reminders of the long nights, and the stress, and the constant strain of his job. But underneath that, is a look of peace, of happiness, that he's never seen before.

You make him happy, he realizes. He hadn't known it was possible, but you're the first person who's made him feel like this, who's brought joy to his life. He'd resigned himself to his fate, had decided that happiness wasn't in the cards for him, but now, faced with the possibility of a different future, one with you, he feels hopeful.

The door opens, and his gaze shifts, his eyes moving to you.

"Hey," you murmur, crossing the room. You've changed into a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt, and your hair is pulled up, leaving your neck exposed. He swallows, his mouth dry, and you give him a soft smile as you sit on the bed opposite of him.

"Hey," he breathes.

You pull the blankets back and gesture for him to move. He does, sliding into the spot, and you tuck the covers around him, treating him like he's fragile, like he's something to be treasured. It's an unfamiliar feeling, one he's not sure how to deal with, and he blinks, his eyes burning.

"Good?" you ask.

"Yeah," he nods.

There's a brief silence, and then you roll over and turn off the light, plunging the room into darkness. The only light is the faint red of the Coruscant skyline through the curtains, but it's enough. He can just barely make out the curve of your cheek, the shape of your mouth.

"Better?"

"Much," he agrees.

You turn, rolling onto your side, and he does the same, his eyes fixed on yours. Your legs bump together, and the sheets are soft, and the pillow is warm, and he's so, so tired. The comfort is welcome, and the exhaustion is starting to make him dizzy, his eyelids drooping.

"Thank you," Fox whispers.

"Of course," you murmur. You move closer to him, and your arms wrap around his neck. He's pressed against your chest, his head resting on your collarbone, and his hands find their way to your waist, pulling you against him. He wants to say something else, but his mind is fuzzy, and the warmth of your body and the feeling of your fingers in his hair is lulling him to sleep.

"Sleep well, Fox."

Your lips press against his forehead, and the softness of the gesture is his undoing.

He's asleep before you even have a chance to pull back.

Fox wakes up slowly.

The first thing he notices is the softness of the blankets. They're warm and heavy, and the fabric is softer than anything he's ever felt before. His second thought is that the mattress is far too comfortable. It's almost painful how much better it is than his own bed, and he groans. He doesn't want to move, doesn't want to get up. All he wants is to lay there, to drift, to soak up the warmth.

He shifts under the covers and breathes in, and the scent of lavender fills his lungs. His eyes fly open.

It takes a moment for the memories to return. He remembers the explosion, the chaos of the aftermath, the kiss, and then he realizes where he is. The panic hits him like a speeder, and his heart races, the shock waking him up.

He lifts his head, and the sight that greets him is enough to take his breath away.

You're lying next to him, fast asleep, and you look more beautiful than he's ever seen you. Your face is relaxed, your lips slightly parted, and the sunlight spilling through the curtains illuminates your skin. You're pressed against his side, the sheets tangled around your legs, and his arm is draped over your waist, his fingers curled into the hem of your shirt.

He watches you, his pulse slowing. All he wants to do is wrap his arms around you, to hold you close, to bury his face in the curve of your neck.

So he does.

You make a soft noise as he pulls you against his chest, but you don't wake. Instead, you snuggle closer, and the contented sigh you let out is the sweetest thing he's ever heard. He can't stop himself from leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Fox?"

You blink up at him, reaching up to cup his cheek. He turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm, and you let out a quiet sigh, smiling up at him.

"Sorry," he breathes. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," you assure him, your fingers tracing the lines of his face. "I'm glad you're still here."

He leans into the touch, closing his eyes, and the sound that leaves his throat is nearly a purr. You laugh, a quiet, sleepy noise, and he can't help but lean down and capture your lips in a gentle kiss. You hum and press closer, your hands moving to the back of his neck.

"Good morning," he whispers against your mouth.

"Good morning," you reply, and the smile in your voice makes him shiver. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very."

He kisses you again, his tongue brushing against yours, and your grip on him tightens. The two of you continue, his lips moving against yours, his hands cupping your cheeks. It's slow and sweet, and the intimacy of the moment sends a shiver down his spine. His mind is quiet, the stress and fear from the past few days gone, and all he can think about is the feel of your mouth, the taste of your tongue.

"What time is it?" he asks, breaking the kiss.

"Not sure," you murmur. Your hands move to his chest, and the heat of them makes his stomach twist. "Why? Do you have somewhere to be?"

"Nope," he breathes, and he captures your lips in another kiss. He runs his hands up your sides, feeling the curve of your waist, the softness of your skin, and his cock starts to harden, his hips jerking forward. "I've got time."

"Good."

The next kiss is harder, faster, and his tongue slides against yours, your hand trailing lower, lower, lower. Your fingers brush against his abs, tracing the lines of his muscles, and then you're gripping the hem of his shirt, pulling it up. He leans forward and helps you take it off before lips are on yours again, and your hands are wandering, roaming over his body, touching every inch of skin you can reach.

"What are you doing?" he teases.

"Touching," you murmur. He hums as your nails scrape over his stomach, his muscles jumping, and then your hand is trailing lower, over the line of hair that leads down to his waistband.

"Keep going," he orders, his voice hoarse.

Your eyes widen, but you obey, slipping your fingers beneath the fabric. The feeling of your hand wrapping around him makes him groan, his cock twitching. He's fully hard, his tip leaking, and you let out a whimper as you run your hand over him.

"That's—" He cuts himself off with a hiss as you slide your thumb over his tip, spreading the precum over his skin. His head falls forward, his forehead pressing against yours. You're staring up at him, a smirk on your face, and the heat in your eyes is dizzying. "Stars," he groans. "Fuck, that's—"

Your grip tightens, and his hips jerk, the movement involuntary. The noise that leaves his throat is low and desperate, and you let out a breathy laugh, kissing him again. The slide of your lips against his, the stroke of your hand, is addicting, and his eyes drift closed, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"That's not fair," he mumbles against your lips.

"No?"

"No," he sighs, and the feeling of your mouth moving to his jaw, trailing kisses over his skin, sends a wave of heat through him. "Not when I can't—"

You bite down, and he lets out a strangled moan, his hips bucking. His eyes fly open, his hands digging into your waist, and he presses his head against yours, his breaths coming in gasps.

"You're distracting me."

"I know," you breathe, grinning. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Fox rolls you onto your back and moves between your legs, grabbing your wrists and pushing them up above your head. You let out a breathless laugh, but the amusement on your face quickly turns to shock, and you moan, the sound music to his ears.

"My turn," he murmurs.

He releases his grip and kisses you. His hands move down your sides, his fingers digging into the soft fabric of your shirt, and then he's tugging it off, exposing your breasts. He leans down and presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat before nuzzling against your breasts, his hands squeezing them, his fingers brushing over your nipples.

"So pretty," he whispers.

You whimper, the sound soft and needy, and Fox feels his cock jump. He kisses a path down your chest, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and tugging them off along with your underwear.

He sits up and looks at you, his eyes roaming over your naked body, taking in every inch. Your chest is flushed, your cheeks pink, and your legs are pressed together, the blush extending down to your thighs. He bites his lip, his eyes flicking back up to yours, and you shiver, squirming under his gaze.

"Look at you," he breathes, and he reaches down, grabbing your ankle. He lifts it and presses a kiss to the arch, and you shiver, the soft skin twitching. His hand runs up your calf, over the curve of your knee, his lips following the same path. He trails kisses over the inside of your thigh, and the closer he gets, the more you squirm, your eyes locked on him.

"You're shaking," he points out, and he smirks, nipping at the delicate flesh. "Do I scare you?"

"N-no," you manage, and he grins, licking a path up the length of your thigh.

"Then why are you so nervous?"

"I—oh!"

His hands grip your thighs and spread them, and you gasp, your head falling back. Fox leans forward and runs his tongue over your slit, his nose bumping against your clit. He does it again, and again, the movements slow and deliberate. Your hands grip his hair, your hips rising off the bed, and the moan that leaves you sends a rush of heat through him.

His hands move under you, lifting your ass off the mattress, and he pulls you against his mouth, his tongue sliding inside of you. The taste of you is better than he'd imagined, the softness of your folds addictive, and he can't stop, his head moving, his mouth sucking at your clit. He keeps going, his tongue teasing the edges of your opening, and the noises you make, the breathless cries, the moans, the gasps, are driving him crazy.

He's lost in the taste of you, the feeling of your body against his. He's never done this before, never had the opportunity, and he's shocked at how much he loves it. The weight of you against his tongue, the slickness of your skin, the way you're shaking, it's all so perfect, and his cock is leaking, his hips grinding against the bed, trying to find some friction.

He groans and buries his face against you, licking and sucking, his eyes drifting shut. Your grip tightens, the pain almost too much, but the feeling only adds to his arousal. He's never wanted someone so badly, has never been so desperate to please.

"Fox," you sigh.

"So sweet," he whispers. "So good."

He keeps going, his lips moving against your folds, and you squirm, the motion making him hold you tighter. He glances up and sees that your head is thrown back, your eyes closed, and the look of bliss on your face makes him groan.

"Look at me," he orders.

Your eyes fly open, and you stare down at him, panting. He presses a kiss to your clit, and the moan that leaves your lips is low and desperate. Your gaze stays locked on his as he sucks on your folds, his tongue darting out to taste you. Your face is flushed, your cheeks stained with pink, and the look of desperation in your eyes is mesmerizing.

"Please," you whine. "Please, I need—please."

Fox chuckles and pulls away. He sits up and grabs the back of your thighs, pushing your legs apart and pinning them to the bed. Your hands grab at the sheets, the fabric bunched in your fists, and the sight is beautiful.

"You close, sweet girl?"

"Yes," you gasp.

"Need me to fuck you?"

"Please," you beg. "Please, I want—I need—"

"Shhh," he soothes. He lets go of one of your legs and reaches down, trailing a finger over your pussy. You let out a low whine, and he grins, the expression hungry. "Gonna make you feel so good."

"Yes," you gasp. "Yes, please—"

Your words cut off by a moan as he pushes his fingers into your cunt. The feeling of you, wet and hot and tight, makes his head spin. His cock throbs, his hips jerking, and he presses his free hand against his stomach, trying to calm himself. The urge to fuck you is nearly unbearable, but he wants to see you come first.

"Feel good?" he asks.

"Y-yeah."

"Such a good girl," he praises.

His fingers move faster, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit, and your back arches, a desperate moan leaving your lips. You're soaking his hand, and he groans as the wetness drips down his fingers.

"So beautiful," he whispers. "Such a sweet girl."

Your eyes drift shut, and he lets out a displeased growl.

"Open your eyes," he orders.

Your eyes snap open. You look at him, and the trust, the affection in your gaze, is staggering. The intimacy is intense, and the realization of how deeply he cares for you, how much he needs you, hits him like a speeder. It's far too soon, but he can't help it, and the emotions make his heart skip a beat.

"Good girl," he breathes.

"Fuck," you sigh. "I'm close."

"Yeah? Gonna come for me?"

"Y-yes," you gasp. "Yes, please—"

Your mouth falls open, and you let out a low whine, your thighs shaking. The tension in your body is unmistakable, and the thought that he's the one who's brought you to the edge is addicting.

"Come," he orders.

The effect is immediate.

You gasp, and your back arches, and Fox feels the tremors run through you. Your walls clench around his fingers, and your head falls back, a hoarse cry leaving your throat. The sight is so erotic that Fox can't help but stroke himself. He squeezes the base of his cock, and a strangled groan leaves his lips.

"Fuck," he pants. "Fuck, that's—fuck."

He pulls his fingers out of you and brings them to his mouth, sucking on them, moaning as your taste fills his mouth. You're panting, a sheen of sweat covering your body, and the sight of you, spent and satisfied, is almost too much.

"I want you," you murmur, and the hoarseness in your voice is arousing. "Please."

"Yeah," he replies, his voice rough. Fox leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your mouth, and you hum, pleased.

"Need a minute," he confesses, and you nod, giving him a small smile.

"Of course," you breathe. You sit up and grab his shoulders, pulling him down until he's lying next to you. You turn and wrap an arm around his chest, throwing a leg over his hips, and he shivers as your bare skin presses against his.

"You're too much," he grumbles.

"Too much?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because," he mutters.

"Hmm."

You shift, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Your lips move lower, trailing across his collarbone, and Fox shivers, his cock twitching. The sight of you, naked and sprawled out over his chest, is addicting. He can't resist reaching down and cupping your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. You hum, pleased, and he squeezes again, his fingers digging into your skin.

"That's not helping," he mutters.

"I think it is," you reply.

He can't argue with that.

Your lips press against his skin, and he lets out a sigh. You're tracing his scars, kissing the marks on his chest and shoulders, your fingers running over the pale lines. The sight is entrancing, and he closes his eyes, his breathing growing slow and steady. You keep going, pressing a kiss to every part of his chest. You trace the outline of the scar that runs down his stomach, the mark that stretches from his hip to his knee, and the one that runs along his neck.

You press a kiss to his bicep and squeeze his arm, letting out a hum of approval. "This healed nicely."

"I had a good doctor," he teases.

You snort and press a kiss to his chin, and Fox leans forward and captures your lips, pulling you closer. He rolls onto his side, and his hand runs down your back, tracing the curve of your spine. Your leg is still thrown over his hip, and his cock is pressed against the heat of your core. You shiver and roll your hips, rubbing against him, and he groans, his grip tightening.

"You ready?"

"Yes," you breathe.

"Good."

He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth and hitches your leg up higher, pushing himself between your thighs. You're warm, and the wetness from your cunt is dripping down his length, and the sensation makes him grit his teeth. He takes a moment, letting himself get used to the feeling, and then he's pushing forward, easing his way inside.

"Fox," you sigh.

The sound of his name falling from your lips makes him shiver. You're so wet that he slides in easily, but the heat of you, the tightness, is dizzying. His mind blanks, the sensations threatening to overwhelm him, and all he wants is to be as close to you as possible.

"So good," he breathes. "Fuck, you feel—so good, sweet girl."

He bottoms out, his hips pressing against yours, and he pauses, taking a breath. He can't stop staring at you. Your cheeks are pink, the flush extending down to your breasts. Your eyes are closed, your lips slightly parted, and the way you're squirming against him, trying to pull him closer, is maddening.

"Look at me," he pleads.

You open your eyes, and the expression on your face is so tender, so affectionate, that his breath catches. The heat in his chest burns hotter than before, the emotions rising.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs. "So fucking perfect."

"Thank you," you breathe. "You feel—"

"Yeah?"

"Good," you sigh. You roll your hips, grinding against him, and the movement makes him moan. He thrusts forward, unable to resist, and you let out a gasp. "So good."

"Good," he growls.

His grip tightens, and his hips rock forward, his cock moving inside of you. The feeling is addicting, the slide of his cock into your cunt is better than anything he's ever felt. He wants to be closer, wants to be deeper, wants more, and he thrusts forward, pressing himself as deep inside of you as possible.

"So good," he sighs. "So sweet."

"Don't stop," you beg, and you bury your face in his neck, pressing kisses to his skin.

"Not gonna," he promises.

Fox picks up the pace, and the sounds coming from your lips are almost as satisfying as the feeling of being inside of you. He's never had someone so eager, so responsive. Every time his hips snap against yours, you make a sound, a whimper, a gasp, a moan. Your walls are fluttering around him, and he's lost in the sensation, the closeness, the intimacy of the moment.

He presses a kiss to your temple and wraps his arms around you, the position forcing you closer. He can feel every inch of your body, the softness of your skin, the curves and angles. His hips move faster, harder, and your grip on him tightens, your nails digging into his back. The pain is a shock, and he moans, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Fox," you whisper.

"Right here," he assures you.

"More," you beg. "Please."

"Okay," he murmurs. "Anything."

He rolls you onto your back and settles back between your thighs, grabbing one of your legs and hiking it up over his shoulder. He grabs the other and does the same before leaning forward, bracing his hands on either side of your head. The new position has him even deeper, and you gasp, arching up.

"Fuck," he gasps.

"Feels so good," you manage. "So full."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," you sigh.

The new position gives him more control, and he wastes no time. His hips snap forward, his cock sliding into you, and the new angle has his tip brushing against your g-spot. The effect is immediate. Your hands fly to his arms, your nails digging into his skin, and a ragged moan leaves your lips.

"There," you gasp. "Right there."

"Yeah?"

"Please," you beg. "Right there."

He doesn't know how long it lasts. Time slows, and his vision blurs, and all he can focus on is the feeling of you, the sounds that are falling from your lips. The tension in your body grows more intense with each thrust, and the heat inside of him grows hotter.

"Gonna come," you whisper.

"Good girl," he breathes. He kisses you again, and his hips snap forward, the force of his thrusts making the bed shake. You let out a whimper, your head falling back, and Fox kisses the line of your jaw, nipping at the delicate skin.

"Please," you gasp, and the desperation in your tone makes him groan. "I'm so close."

"Me, t-too," he manages. "Can I—"

"Yes," you promise.

"Fuck."

He picks up the pace, reaching down between the two of you. He's dripping with sweat, and his skin is hot, and the feeling of his fingers sliding over his cock is almost unbearable. He presses his thumb against your clit, stroking it in time with his thrusts, and you let out a hoarse cry, your walls clenching around him.

"There," you sigh. "There, there, there—"

You cut off with a sharp cry, and Fox feels the rush of warmth, the flood of slick coating his cock. The sensation is more than he can handle, and he comes with a grunt, his eyes closing as the pleasure hits him. His hips jerk forward, and he buries himself inside of you, pressing himself as deep as he can.

"Fuck," he breathes, and the word is shaky. He's not sure if it's the stress, or the adrenaline, or the emotions, but the feeling is intense, and it leaves him trembling. He slumps forward, his forehead pressed against your chest, and his eyes drift closed, his heartbeat echoing in his ears.

He stays there for a moment, enjoying the feel of you wrapped around him, the warmth of your body, the softness of your skin. Finally, Fox lifts his head and rolls off of you, flopping onto his back. He stares up at the ceiling, his breaths coming in ragged gasps and the sweat cooling on his body. His mind is silent, his body spent, and he can't remember the last time he's felt this satisfied, this calm.

"Fox?"

He turns his head and sees that you're watching him, a hesitant expression on your face. He smiles, and you smile back, the uncertainty leaving.

"Hey."

"Are you okay?" you ask.

"Better than okay," he assures you, grabbing your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. He brings your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back of it, and the flush on your cheeks grows darker. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you nod.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You reach up and cup his cheek. Fox closes his eyes and leans into the touch, humming quietly.

"So," you start, clearing your throat. "What happens now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Your voice trails off, and you let out a frustrated noise. Fox opens his eyes and looks at you. You're staring up at the ceiling, a frown on your face.

"I like you," he says, his voice soft. "A lot."

"I like you, as well," you murmur. You turn to look at him, and the hope in your eyes is unmistakable. "I've liked you for a while, actually."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod.

"Then I think that's a good start." He licks his lips, his mind racing. "I'd like to continue seeing you. I mean, dating. If you're open to it.

"Oh," you breathe, and you blink up at him. "That's what you want?"

"I understand if you don't," he replies. His voice is steady, though his heart is pounding. The thought of you rejecting him is almost unbearable. "It's a lot. The hours, the job, everything."

"No," you shake your head. "I mean—yes. Yes, I want that. With you."

"Really?"

"Yes," you laugh. You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, and Fox feels his heart skip a beat, his stomach flipping. "Do you really think I'd say no?"

His mouth twists, and he glances away, his jaw clenching. "I've never done this before," he confesses. "I've never been...with anyone. Not in a way that meant something."

"It does mean something," you assure him. You reach up and cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin, and he sighs, leaning into the touch. "It means a lot."

"Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm."

Fox reaches over and pulls you against his chest. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and you settle against him, letting out a soft sigh.

"So," you prompt, "when can I expect a date?"

He huffs out a laugh. "We'll have to sync our calendars."

"Sounds fun," you tease. Your hand trails lower, over his chest and down his stomach, and the sensation sends a shiver through him. You press a kiss to his neck, and he hums, tilting his head to give you better access. "I'll see what I can do."

"Good," he sighs.

"For now," you continue, your fingers trailing down his abs, "I have a question."

"Hm?"

"Are you hungry?"

He laughs, the sound loud and genuine. He reaches up and cups your cheek, and you smile, a bright, beautiful expression. "Starving," he admits.

"Then let's get cleaned up, and I'll make us some breakfast," you decide. You lean forward and press a soft kiss to his lips, and his arms wrap around your waist, holding you against him. He can feel the smile against his mouth, and the sweetness of it, the warmth, makes him sigh.

"You really are the perfect woman," he murmurs.

"And don't you forget it," you warn him. You climb off the bed and reach for his hand. "Let's go."

"I'm going," he assures you. He lets out a breath and slides off the bed. "After you."

"Chivalrous."

"I do my best."

He follows you down the hall, his eyes fixed on the curve of your back, the sway of your hips. The sunlight spilling through the window is illuminating your skin, making it glow, and the sight is stunning. The fact that you're his is almost unbelievable, and his head is spinning, the realization of what he's done finally hitting him.

Fox knows that his life will be a long series of bad days. He's aware that the work will be grueling, the stress will be unbearable, and the pressure will be almost suffocating. But now, looking at you, knowing that you'll be waiting for him when he gets home, he realizes that he doesn't care. As long as you're there, he'll be fine.

And he'll fight like hell to keep it that way.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

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@kashasenpai @kkdrawsdecently @Isaidonyourknees

#i apologise for this long ass unwarranted analysis #in my defense it's not my fault #fic was just too good

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