#i forget how. much detail u can put into these but

[savetheghost]

wanna be put in a room with craft stuff for 10 years

[milkneutrality]

Marble hornets not having much of a visually distinctive cast can be really frustrating, especially when ur first watching it. Then multiply that frustration 10x because of all the visual distortion/glitching. But nowadays I'm p thankful bcs wanting to make mh fanart is what pushed me to put more effort into drawing faces and making faces look distinctive from each other.

[globaloppaaa]

Hey! Can you please do "babysitting with zb1"?

i love this idea!! got started on it as soon as you sent it! thank you for requesting bb, and as always if anyone wants to request more my inbox is currently open! might need some time as school is beginning for me again.

w/a: literally the smallest hint of suggestive theme of u squint to the point that your eye are just closed.

for hanbin, I don’t wanna say that this man has no flaws… but he really knows how to take care of younger siblings so any child is no problem at all. Heck, he’s probably taking care of you too. He’s got a lot of experience with taking care of others that it comes like second nature to him. Leaves you little notes of encouragement around the house when things start to get too stressful :))

jiwoong is doing your job for you at this point lol. Probably the most calm when one child throws a bit of a temper tantrum. His soft voice when he communicates to them can naturally bring a smile right back to their face. I feel like taking care of younger siblings pose no challenge to him whatsoever, I mean they’re just like mini versions of you two! Maybe he’s starting to get his head stuck in the clouds with the whole “mini you” idea…

If you’ve seen zb1 taking care of those twins on youtube you know well that hao does NOT know how to take care of children well. you’re lowkey 🤏 close to kicking him out with the way he talks back to the kid as if they’re both five years old. however watching the way you’re able to calm the child down really takes him by surprise, and he finds himself more willing to learn how you take care of them so well, while ultimately keeping both him and the kids under control too.

matthew tries so hard to be the best good cop of a babysitter he can be, though sometimes he forgets that bounderies and lessons do need to be learned! is the kind of babysitter that melts at the sight of the child’s puppy eyes and gives in to whatever scheming they may have up their sleeve. next thing you know there’s paint splattered on every surface but the ones paint is supposed to be on. “how could i resist?!” he says, giving u a pout while he attempts to remove the smear on his cheek, and honestly it’s hard for you to resist when he looks at you that way too.

you can bet taerae is singing those kids one hell’ of a lullaby every night WHEWWW. We all know how soothing his voice is, perfect for stormy nights or when’s there’s still a bit too much excitement past curfew. He’s definitely more of a practical kind of babysitter if that makes sense though. “Why do they play with rocks and twigs when the big screen tv is right there?” 🙄🤷🏻 Kinda guy. I will say that you and taerae are especially good keeping kids entertained. They adore his energy and humor and all the little skits he’ll put on. Babysitting with him leaves everyone smiling.

ricky is so elegant with it 😭😭 I don’t think you’ve ever heard him raise his voice because the children just obey without question. It’s almost strange lol. You two work as a great team! You make up the rules (because he likes listening to you too ☺️) and he’s the official communicator of said rules. Babysitting never feels stressful with him. His one downfall is that he will buy the kid(s) anything at anytime, and then he’ll buy YOU anything you want at anytime. He just wants you all to be happy what can he say?

gyuvin is surprisingly very good at babysitting when given instructions, knows what food is healthy and chewable, can easily make them fall asleep at curfew, and ensure the kids always keep a smile on their face. it’s hard to believe that when you run to the store, forgetting one item that all hell breaks loose. “i don’t know what to do when you’re gone.” he winces, in what looks like the most uncomfortable pose of defeat on the floor, the children jumping atop him in victory.

gunwook For sure knows what a child’s needs are, but learns all the details and the in-betweens from you! Definitely gets affected by cuteness aggression so sometimes it can be hard for him to concentrate, and then if YOU’RE there? Great, that’s a whole other distraction he’s gotta try and fail to ignore. Gunwook makes babysitting feel like a normal part of life rather than any kind of chore or job. He’s a bit head over heels on the idea of having his own family some day, and just maybeee he’s thinking about having it with you. 🤭

yujin i’m sorry but you’re practically taking care of him too. I’m not saying this because i think he’s a “baby”, but because he’s so socially awkward with the kids he can’t even hold eye contact lmao. For example, one of them might start to throw a tantrum out of the blue, and yujin’s solution involves him standing there watching like 🧍🏻😟. He’ll most likely start shouting your name for assistance… he really is trying his best! I think Yujin likes to let you lead with the babysitting, while also giving him a front row seat at admiring you being so passionate about making others happy and well cared for.

[trustmypoison]

SVT when you ask them for 'help'

You lament to your friend that your latest hookup didn’t quite cut it. 

Genre: suggestive (with no explicit smut), but MDNI.

Seungcheol

You didn't even have to ask. When you lament about your frustration lately, he’s openly offering to help. He’ll kind of laugh at your surprised pikachu face and call you cute, and you’re thinking ‘where the hell did this come from??’ But then he’s crowding your space and asking what you usually like and your mind will go blank. ‘Tell me what they did wrong so I can fix it’, he says sweetly. He’s never made you nervous before but his hands creeping under your shirt does now. Of course you’ll tell him what you want and he’ll reward you tenfold for your honesty. Deceptively casual about it later. You’d never know it’s all he’s been thinking about lately.

Jeonghan

I’m sure you saw this coming, but he’ll tease you relentlessly. ‘Pick someone better next time,’ he’ll say unapologetically as he coos at your frustrated expression and pinches your flushed cheeks. Bitterly, you’ll say something like, ‘What? Like you could do better?’ You’ve unlocked his ego because of course he could and he’ll say so. He loves to rile you up, so he’ll tell you exactly what he’d do in great detail just watch you flush even more and squirm. Finally, he’ll lean in close and ask if that’s what you want. He’ll be happy to help you out if you beg ask nicely. The mask of confidence will slip a little as he sees how much you enjoy his touch and he’ll quickly realize that he’s playing with fire. 

Joshua

Tries to hide his entertainment at your frustration. You guys are too open and honest so he gets all of the details about what this person did wrong. He does have some sympathy when you’re so frustrated you look like you might cry, so he finds himself offering to help you if you want it. When you ask if he’d really do that, the answer is simply ‘of course’. He promises nothing would change, but the moment he sees your eyes shift at his touch, he knows he’s accidentally lied. Your little faces and sounds are going to be addictive to him. 

Jun

‘You want me to do what?’ He’s totally bug eyed when you ask him for help. He doesn’t know what to say so he lets you ramble for a long time about how you trust him and you know he wouldn’t make it weird and you’re just really frustrated and need a release. When you don’t get much of a reaction from him, you start rambling about how sorry you are for even asking and that you didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable and how you hope he can forget about it. He’s cutting you off with a kiss because of course he’ll help you, he just needed a minute to wrap his head around the request. One of the few that will totally go back to normal afterwards.

Hoshi

‘What?!… Okay, let’s go.’ He’ll leave you in the dust as he rushes down the hall to your bedroom. You’re left wondering why he switched between shock and acceptance so quickly. He’s so eager to please once you’re both in the bedroom that you have to push him back for a minute to take a breather and ask if he’s really okay with this. ‘Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?’ His response is so simple that you can’t really argue with it. Nothing changes afterwards (except for the crushing weight of his new-found feelings, but you won’t catch him saying anything about it now). 

Wonwoo

Will look totally unimpressed with the suggestion. ‘What’s in it for me?’ He’ll ask and you’ll gape at him. ‘What do you mean, Wonwoo? I’m offering to let you hit it.’ Eventually he’ll shrug and tell you to get on with it before he changes his mind. As soon as you’re in his lap and can feel how hard he is, you get the idea that his attitude might have just been an act. Expect very little to change afterwards, but he’ll be replaying that interaction for a while in his head and kind of wishing you’d ask again. 

Woozi

Another one on team totally unimpressed. In fact, he looks so put out by the suggestion that you drop it and move on. It’s him that brings it up again a week later asking if you really meant it and if you were still interested. When you say yes, he’s slow to start if only because he’s still not totally convinced you’re into it. When you start stripping, it changes his mind and things start to move fast after that. Won’t tell you, but he wishes he’d gone about this differently because the feelings he experiences afterwards are consuming.

DK

He feels sorry for you, he does. He wants you to be happy, and he’s sorry that the people you’ve been with lately aren’t making you happy. But he DOES NOT feel that him helping like this is the solution. You drop it because it felt like a firm no and don’t give him a lot of specifics about the next bad hookup. However, he hates seeing you like this and does eventually come around to the idea. You’re one of his best friends after all and he wants you to be happy. And the more he thinks about it, the more touched he is that you came to him of all people. He thinks he’ll just do enough to get you off and then move on, but changes his mind when he finds out how much he enjoys watching your little reactions. This will surely make him realize he’s been misinterpreting his feelings for you all along and what a dramatic crisis that will be. 

Mingyu

Another one that will absolutely deny the request initially because he genuinely only had platonic feelings for you. You drop it, but the thought lingers with him enough to mention it to one or two of his members. They simply cannot believe that he turned down that opportunity and his jaw drops when he asks if they would have taken the opportunity and they cry out ‘yes, you idiot!!’ He’ll rethink his logic and boldly ask if you’re still interested. Having you underneath him later that night makes him realize just how wrong he was, both to turn you down and to also assume that what he felt was platonic. 

Minghao

The last of the unimpressed team. A simple raise of his eyebrow lets you know that you might have gone too far. You start to backpedal - it’s just been a long time, and you trust him, and you’re sorry if the request was too much and it won’t happen again. He simply shakes his head, chuckling. ‘It’s not a no, it’s a why now.’ Makes you talk about it before he’ll so much as touch you and the conversation feels so soul-bearing that you’re nervous when he finally does reach out for you. But your comfort always comes first, so he’ll make sure you walk away happy. There’s no big realization because he already knows how he felt, but now he has to come to terms with the fact that he knows you in a more intimate way and really enjoyed it.

Seungkwan

Stunned. Flabbergasted. Outraged. You’re not surprised by this overzealous reaction, but still, you laugh it off and say, ‘It was just an idea, Seungkwan. You can shoot it down.’ He mouths off some more, saying that he should and that you’re crazy, but then he’s pressed up against you kissing the life out of you. Your head spins at the sudden sensations, but this is what you wanted, right? Later, he’ll have to grapple with the way that being with you made him feel, but he won’t be saying anything about it until he’s ready. 

Vernon

Just shrugs and says ‘okay’. You know he’s laidback, but this is a whole other level. You raise an eyebrow and ask him if he understands what you just asked of him. ‘Yeah, you want me to help you come.’ Okay. Okay, okay, okay, got it. Cool, cool, cool. He can tell he’s surprised you so he eases into it with a lot of soft touches to get you to relax. He’s not really one to initiate a lot of physical contact, but boy do you wish he would now that you know how it feels. Later, he’s still just as casual about it. That is, until he’s staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night when he can’t sleep because he’s just had an ‘oh’ moment. 

Chan

Have you guys seen that thing where one of the members says ‘maybe we should kiss because we’re bored’ and he’s like, ‘no thanks, that’s weird’? Yep, that’s his reaction. But he watches you deflate before his very eyes and his mind screeches to a halt, because, wait, you were serious??? Presses the issue even though you want to drop it now because you’re embarrassed. You hesitantly explain and he finally frowns and says, ‘if you’re sure’. He knows he’s in trouble with the way your eyes light up at his acceptance, but he knows he’s in wayyyy too deep when he sees you underneath him. Yeah, he’s going to be a little weird afterwards if only because he can’t get that interaction out of his mind.

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter seven ♡

Summary: Joel's mind is a stormy place. WC: 14.5k A/N: Hope this part finds u well <3 remember that I no longer use the tag list, and if you want to receive notifications you can activate them on this blog or on capuccinodollupdates. Thank you for your lovely messages and comments, don't forget to leave feedback, it helps and motivates me a lot! love u <3

Joel met you on the night of your your twenty-second birthday, at a small, slightly chaotic party your friend Cassie had put together in her dimly lit apartment. It was one of those nights where the air felt like it held a secret, but Joel wasn’t planning to go. He didn’t know Cassie, or you, and the idea of spending an evening with Brianna’s friends felt more like an obligation than anything resembling fun. But Brianna had that way about her, the kind of charm that made saying no feel almost impossible.

“Come on, it'll be fun,” she’d said, her fingers brushing against his cheek in that practiced, easy way of hers. Her eyes sparkled, soft but insistent. “And I want you to meet everyone.”

Everyone turned out to be Cassie, her boyfriend Freddie, Paul, Paul’s younger sister Iris, and you. He didn’t know much about you, but Brianna filled in the gaps as she rifled through her purse for something or other.

“Well, it’s her birthday,” she said, glancing up with a small smile. “I told you about her—Cassie’s best friend from way back. It’s at her place.”

Joel frowned. “I don’t even have a gift. What am I supposed to bring? What does your friend likes?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve got it covered,” Brianna said, already moving on to another task, as if his presence at this party were a foregone conclusion. 

He sighed, leaning back against the couch, watching her with the sort of resignation that felt familiar by now. “I’ll feel out of place,” he murmured.

“You won’t,” she said, dismissive, like it wasn’t even a possibility. “Do it for me, Joel. Then we’ll go to that bar you like after, okay?”

And so he found himself standing, shaking his head but moving toward the bedroom anyway. He picked up the phone to call Tommy, wanting to check on Sarah. It was always like this—this invisible tether that pulled at him, the need to make sure she was safe, that she wasn’t lonely or scared. Sarah’s nanny had quit a few weeks ago, and the new one, while kind, was still a stranger in their world. Joel had made it clear to everyone he wouldn’t tolerate anything less than kindness toward his daughter, but still, worry clung to him like a second skin. 

When he left the house, Sarah had been curled up on the couch with her fruit and a movie, looking happy enough. He tried to focus on that image, tried to let it soothe the part of him that always itched with concern. But the worry followed him, up the stairs and into Cassie’s apartment. 

The apartment was small, warm with the low buzz of conversation and the flickering light of candles Cassie had scattered around. Brianna took his hand, leading him through introductions. Smiles, nods, the blur of names until they got to you. 

You were perched on the armrest of a couch where Cassie sat, and the first thing he noticed was the way your gaze landed on him—sharp, assessing, like he wasn’t quite what you’d expected or wanted. Something tight curled in his chest, an instinct he didn’t know how to name. You didn’t say much, just offered a polite, somewhat distant smile when Brianna pulled you into a quick hug. Your eyes were tired, your posture restrained, your hands folded neatly in your lap like you were holding something in. 

Joel noticed the way your shirt hugged your frame, the soft sheen of your black stockings, the way your legs crossed at the ankle like you were trying to make yourself smaller. He didn’t like how quickly he cataloged all these details—how automatic it felt, like he was breaking some unspoken rule. He nodded politely, offering a faint smile, and then stepped back, unsure how else to exist in this moment. 

He stayed on the edges after that, with Brianna attached to his side, her hand slipping under his collar, her lips brushing against his temple in a way that felt like it was meant to remind him he belonged to her. But Joel couldn’t stop noticing you. The way your eyes flickered away whenever Brianna leaned into him. The barely perceptible shift in your shoulders when Cassie started recounting some story about your last birthday. Like the whole night was built on a kind of friction you were trying not to let show.

Joel wasn’t sure why, but the sight of you unsettled him. Maybe it was the way you carried your discomfort so carefully, as if you didn’t want to ruin the party. Or maybe it was because he knew that feeling so well. That ache of being somewhere you didn’t entirely want to be, surrounded by people who didn’t really see you.

At some point in the evening, Joel felt the weight of it all—Brianna’s hand on his arm, the too-loud laughter from the living room, the vague pull of unease he couldn’t shake. He shifted, leaning away from Brianna’s touch.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her tone lined with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Joel replied, a little too sharply. “I’m just gonna check on Sarah. Be back in a sec.”

He disentangled himself from her and headed for the kitchen, his hand fishing for his phone in his pocket. As he closed the door behind him, the sudden quiet felt like stepping into a different world. The party was still humming on the other side, but here, in the stillness, he could breathe. 

He unlocked his phone and scrolled through the messages from Sarah’s nanny. They weren’t dire—just updates about Sarah refusing to sleep and crying because her movie had ended. Joel sighed, his stomach knotting anyway. Late nights made Sarah clingier, her emotions harder to soothe, and he hated not being there. 

He typed out a hurried reply: Put the movie back on. She’ll probably drift off in a few minutes. If not, call me—I’ll go back home.

From the living room, someone shouted, karaoke. The cheer that followed was met by Joel’s quiet relief at being tucked away in the kitchen. He let out a breath, leaning against the counter, when the door creaked open. 

You stepped in, freezing mid-motion when you noticed him. For a moment, you just stared, your expression shifting from surprise to something softer. The tension Joel had sensed in you earlier seemed to have dissolved in this quieter space. 

He straightened instinctively, a faint warmth rising to his face.

“Oh, hi. Happy birthday,” he said, his voice a little uneven. “Sorry, I didn’t  get a chance to say it earlier—”

You waved him off with a small smile, interrupting. “No worries. Thanks.”

There was something about the way you carried yourself in the quiet that Joel found disarming. The edges of your earlier wariness had softened, and for the first time, he saw you for more than a glance. You were calm, reflective, maybe a little tired—but there was something else, something Joel couldn’t quite place. 

He searched your face for a hint, for the thing that had inexplicably drawn his attention from the moment he saw you. But it eluded him, like trying to name a feeling he didn’t yet understand. He liked you—he realized that much instantly. And not just for the way you looked; you were beautiful, that much was clear. It was something deeper, more intangible. Something that felt a little bit dangerous to analyze, something he could discover if he allowed himself the time... and he couldn't. What was he thinking? 

Joel left that night without saying much else. Every time Brianna suggested they meet up again—usually with you in attendance—he found a reason to decline. Polite, noncommittal excuses. Work, Sarah, tiredness. It didn’t matter. The truth was, he wasn’t sure why the idea of seeing you again felt impossible, only that it did.  

It wasn’t long before things with Brianna unraveled. They hadn’t been falling apart so much as they’d never truly held together. Their conversations ran on parallel tracks that never quite met; their connection relied on superficial agreements that felt thinner every time they spoke. The breakup came naturally, quietly—no grand argument or dramatic gesture, just a mutual fading. Joel knew it was for the best.  

He told himself that the timing wasn’t right for anything serious. Not with Sarah so young, not with the weight of his responsibilities pulling him in every direction. Dating, he decided, wasn’t a part of his life right now. His world revolved around work and his daughter. There was no room for anything else.  

That’s why he didn’t expect to see you again.  

But then came that Saturday afternoon. Joel stood outside his house, his chest heavy with the tightness of panic, his breath caught in the raw edge of fear. Sarah was nowhere to be found. She had been playing hide-and-seek, though he hadn't known the game had begun... Apparently. His heart thudded in his chest as he drew closer. And then, the sun caught your face, illuminating every angle, softening the edges. You were holding a bundle of plastic flowers (why? he had no idea), their bright colors clashing with the quiet confidence in your smile.  

“Joel,” you said, your voice light, like the beginning of a melody. And there it was—the unmistakable spark of recognition in your eyes. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted you to remember him until that moment, when you did.  

He nodded, trying to muster an air of casual indifference, even as something in his chest shifted, calmed. 

“Hey,” he said, the word almost too small to hold the sudden rush of feelings he wasn’t ready to name. 

How could he name the feeling? The space between the last beat of his heart before he saw your face again and the next was a quiet, breathless eternity—because from that moment on, you would be the reason behind every quickened pulse, every ache and swell in his chest.

That afternoon passed like a blur. Sarah had invited you to stay for dinner before Joel even had a chance to think, let alone object. The meal was simple—chicken, vegetables, and bread that Sarah insisted she’d “helped cook.” You’d laughed, the sound light and warm, and Joel found himself watching you more than he should have. You didn’t seem to notice the way his eyes lingered when you reached for a plate or tucked your hair behind your ear. If you did, you didn’t let on.  

Two weeks later, you had dinner again, but this time Joel introduced you to his brother. And all those things that passed you by, Tommy picked up on instantly, impossible to ignore the unmistakable attitude of his smitten brother. And after you’d left his home, he leaned back in his chair and gave Joel a look that was all knowing smirk.  

“So,” Tommy drawled, leaning back with an almost smug ease, “are you finally gonna ask her out, or are we stuck with this whole pining routine forever?”

Joel exhaled sharply, running a hand over the back of his neck. The movement was unsteady, betraying the heat rising to his face despite his effort to appear unaffected.

“I dunno,” he muttered, his voice low and hesitant. “Not sure she—”

Tommy cut him off with a loud snort, shaking his head in disbelief. “She would, you idiot. Of course, she’d say yes.”

Joel looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly as they met his brother’s. He searched for any trace of teasing, waiting for Tommy to give himself away. But there was none. His younger brother’s expression was steady, his confidence unshakable.

“Go ask her now,” Tommy said, his tone nudging toward playful but still earnest. “She’s probably still awake. Probably thinking about you, you know.”

Joel let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as if to brush off the suggestion. “Oh, knock it off. I’ll ask her, alright? Just… when the time’s right. Not now.”

Tommy rolled his eyes dramatically, but he didn’t press the matter further. He knew Joel well enough to understand when to let things lie.

Joel, however, wasn’t brushing it off as easily as he seemed. He would ask you. Someday. Just not yet.

But that day—the day he’d finally say something—never seemed to come.  

The more time Joel spent with you, the harder it became to imagine risking the delicate balance of what you already had. You fit so seamlessly into his life, into Sarah’s life. It felt natural, effortless. You’d come over for dinner, sharing stories around the table that made Sarah giggle and Joel’s chest feel a little lighter. Sometimes, you’d sit on the porch with him as Sarah played in the yard, her laughter echoing in the quiet evenings. Joel trusted you with his daughter in a way he trusted almost no one, a rare kind of faith he didn’t extend easily.  

Your presence turned ordinary days into something brighter. There was a comfort in your company, a quiet joy in the small moments you shared—your easy laughter, the way your eyes softened when you looked at him or Sarah, the unspoken understanding that passed between you. Those moments felt like tiny gifts, precious and irreplaceable.  

But weeks turned into months, and every time Joel built up the nerve to say something, doubt crept in and stopped him. What if it changed everything? What if you didn’t feel the same way? Or worse—what if you did, but things didn’t work out? The thought of losing the quiet, steady friendship you’d built, the one that had come to mean more to him than he’d ever anticipated, was unbearable.  

Eventually, Joel convinced himself that friendship was enough. And in a way, it wasn’t a lie. He truly was happy in your presence, content with the moments you shared. He told himself he could live with the unspoken, that he didn’t need anything more.  

But sometimes, late at night, when the house was silent and the world felt still, his mind would wander. He’d think about the way your smile lingered when you thought no one was watching or the way your laugh seemed to wrap around him like a warm embrace. In those moments, he couldn’t deny the truth buried deep inside him: he wanted more.  

Still, he decided it was safer to push those feelings away, to bury them deep where they couldn’t surface. And so he did. He buried them so well, smothered them so completely, that he nearly convinced himself they were gone. Until, somehow, he forgot they were even there.

Well, he’d managed to bury it—convince himself it was gone—until that night, when everything shifted.  

It wasn’t exactly a surprise. Not really. Somewhere deep down, a quiet voice had always been whispering the truth to him, persistent and patient. But Joel had ignored it, pushed it aside like an overdue bill he didn’t have the energy to deal with, telling himself he’d face it another day. And yet now, there it was, no longer subtle or ignorable, staring him in the face with a weight that felt impossible to avoid.  

Because deep down, Joel had always known that if the two of you crossed that invisible line—if he let himself take even one step past the boundary you’d built—nothing would ever be the same. It wasn’t the intimacy itself that gave him pause. Joel wasn’t afraid of touching you, of holding you close, or of sharing the kind of closeness he’d once told himself he didn’t need. That wasn’t it. What unsettled him, what gripped him with both exhilaration and dread, was the certainty that after that moment, he’d never be able to step back. He’d never be able to pull away from you, not in the way he had before, not in the way he’d convinced himself he could. Because once he gave in—once he let himself have you, even for a moment—Joel knew with startling clarity that he’d never recover. You wouldn’t just be part of his life anymore; you’d become part of the very center of it. And that terrified him as much as it thrilled him.  

And then, he met Sienna. She entered his life at a time when he had successfully buried those feelings for you so deep that they rarely surfaced anymore, their edges dulled by time and avoidance. Her arrival was almost perfectly timed, slipping into the space he’d created in his effort to distance himself from emotions he hadn’t dared confront. And it wasn’t just convenience; he genuinely liked her. She wasn’t a substitute or a stand-in for something unresolved. She was her own person, someone who caught his attention and managed to hold it, filling his brief days with her with a kind of lightness he enjoyed. But, she wasn't you.

Sienna, with her warm smile and quick laugh, who was easy to like and even easier to spend time with. She was smart, kind, and effortlessly beautiful, the kind of woman who made you feel comfortable in your own skin. He’d met her one morning at the bank, a serendipitous encounter that had led, improbably, to him asking her out. It had surprised even him—Joel Miller, diving headfirst into something for once, emboldened by a rare flash of courage. 

The first date had been pleasant. A simple dinner, unpretentious conversation, and laughter that lingered. When he got home, he’d felt good—content, even. Tommy had stayed to watch Sarah, and Joel hadn’t mentioned the date to you. It hadn’t seemed important at the time. Just one night out, nothing more. Not worth bringing up. But later, as he lay awake in bed, the quiet of the house pressing in around him, he felt it—the faint, prickling weight of guilt. It wasn’t sharp or overwhelming, just a subtle ache that settled low in his chest, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

The second date was even better. Dinner had been just as easy as the first, and afterward, they’d gone to see a movie. Sitting in the dim theater, their shoulders brushing occasionally, Joel had felt a faint sense of familiarity, a hint of comfort that he didn’t expect. When Sienna invited him in for coffee after she’d smiled at him in that warm, open way of hers, Joel hesitated. Something inside him pulled back, and though his refusal was polite, it wasn’t just about needing to get home to Sarah. It was something else, something he couldn’t name.

On the drive back, his mind wandered. Passing your house, he noticed the soft glow of light spilling from your window and, for a moment, considered stopping by. Maybe he could sit with you for a while, let you bring some clarity to the restless thoughts swirling in his head. You always had a way of calming him, grounding him, even when you didn’t know he needed it. But he didn’t. Instead, he went home, crawled into bed, and left the lamp on as he drifted to sleep. Yet, even in those moments before sleep took him, thoughts of you tugged persistently at the edges of his mind.

By the third date, doubt had begun to creep in. Joel found himself questioning why he hadn’t told you about Sienna. Why he was keeping it to himself, why it felt so unsettling. It wasn’t as if you’d judge him, he told himself. If anything, you’d probably encourage him, tell him he deserved to be happy, that he should give it a real chance. That was who you were—supportive, unselfish.

But the thought of you knowing made something twist in his chest. It felt wrong, somehow, like it would shift the delicate balance between you. Admitting it to you felt too final, as though saying it aloud would confirm that he was searching for something else, something permanent, and he wasn’t ready for you to know that. He couldn’t untangle the knot of emotions tightening inside him, couldn’t put words to the unease that crept in whenever Sienna smiled at him or touched his arm. All he knew was that no matter how good things seemed with her, thoughts of you were never far behind.

Then came his birthday. You’d confronted him that night, quiet and firm, catching him off guard with your piercing gaze and steady voice.

“Why would you lie to me?” you’d asked, your tone a mixture of hurt and bewilderment. “We're friends. Why wouldn't you tell me you're seeing someone?”

And just like that, the truth he’d been avoiding stood between you, unspoken but undeniable.

You cornered him, and he didn’t handle it well. The anger Joel felt in that moment wasn’t just irrational—it was childish, unfair, the kind of emotion he’d scold Sarah for if it came from her. But it rose inside him, stubborn and hot, because deep down, Joel felt as though he was betraying you. The thought alone unsettled him; it was absurd. You weren’t his, and yet, the idea of you holding that kind of sway over him—being able to tilt the axis of his decisions—left him feeling exposed, furious. He knew, with unsettling clarity, that if you asked him to leave Sienna, he would. That realization burned, not just because of the power you held over him but because he was certain it wasn’t mutual. At least, he thought so.

“I know you too well to know you’re just jealous,” he spat, the words sharp and venomous, aimed more at himself than at you. He hated the way his own insecurities betrayed him, how they shaped the bitterness in his tone. The accusation was hypocritical; he knew that better than anyone.

The month before, when you casually mentioned that Travis had asked you out, Joel felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him. Your tone was so light, so unaffected, that it caught him off guard, knocking the air out of his lungs. His reaction was instant and visceral, jealousy surging like a tidal wave and gripping his chest in a vice. The mocking laugh that escaped him wasn’t intentional—it was sharp and bitter, a reflex from the worst parts of himself. Out of all the men in town, why him? The sting of it still lingered, the memory sharp and vivid.

Three years ago, Joel had first met Travis Dunn on a scorching Sunday afternoon. The kind of day where the sun bore down relentlessly, turning the air into a suffocating blanket of heat and making every movement feel sluggish. Joel was outside his house, organizing tools in the back of his truck, more out of habit than necessity, while the hours stretched long and slow.

Two houses down, across the street, Travis was in his yard, wrestling with an overgrown bush that refused to yield. Joel had noticed him before—a new face in the neighborhood—but they’d never spoken. Deciding to introduce himself, Joel grabbed a rag to wipe his hands and wandered over, his shoes crunching against the dry grass.

Travis straightened when he saw Joel approach, leaning on his shovel with an easy, welcoming smile despite the oppressive heat.

“That’s real kind of you, Joel,” Travis said after Joel offered to help, his voice friendly and conversational. “But I’m just about done here. Damn Texas sun’s brutal, though. Still tryin’ to get used to it.”

Joel chuckled, nodding in understanding as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “Yeah, it’s a killer. You get used to it after a while. Been working outside my whole life—kinda got the skin for it now. But if you ever need a hand, I’ve got the tools. Sometimes even the time.”

Travis nodded, brushing damp hair back from his forehead, and smiled sideways, an idea forming in his mind. “Actually, there is something.”

Joel tilted his head, curiosity piqued. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Travis hesitated only a moment before blurting out your name as an invocation of the terrible, and the mention of you froze Joel’s easy smile in place, turning it into something tight and forced.

“You’re close to her, aren’t you?” Travis continued, his tone almost playful. “She’s something else. So sweet, beautiful too.”

Joel forced himself to nod, his voice flat. “That she is.”

“I like her,” Travis admitted, a nervous laugh bubbling up as he spoke, oblivious to Joel’s growing tension.

"No shit." His voice was low, flat.

“I mean, I was relieved when I realized you two were just friends. For a while there, I thought you might be, y’know, together.”

Joel’s brow furrowed. “What made you think that?”

“The way you act around her, and the way she acts around you,” Travis said with a shrug. “You’re together a lot. I dunno, it just... felt like a thing.”

Joel didn’t respond, but the silence between them thickened.

Travis, either unaware or unconcerned, grinned and added, “Anyway, you might wanna watch yourself, man," he said with a smug grin. "If you're not careful enough, I might just swoop in and take her off your hands forever. And trust me, I don’t do refunds—especially not with something as gorgeous as her."

Something snapped inside Joel. The casual arrogance in Travis’s tone, the smug smile—it was too much. He stepped closer, his posture rigid. Something as gorgeous, he said? Who did he think he was, strutting up and talking to him with all the confidence in the world, like they were old friends or something?

“What did you just say?” Joel’s voice was low, the Southern drawl sharpening into something dangerous.

The grin faded from Travis’s face, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Oh, sorry—”

"Y’ain’t gonna get anywhere near her with those words, Dunn," Joel growled, his voice low and thick with anger, his strong southern accent accentuating with emotion. "You better watch your damn mouth 'fore I show you what it really means to cross a line."

"No, listen—"

"No," Joel cut him off, stepping even closer. "You listen here, boy. You think you can talk about her like she’s some kinda prize to be won? Like she’s just sittin’ ‘round waitin’ for some fool like you to come swoopin’ in and steal her away? You’re downright dumb if you think you can underestimate her like that—like she’s some kinda damn manipulable thing you can just twist ‘round your finger."

“Joel, I didn’t mean—”

“You stay away from her,” Joel warned, his voice calm but edged with steel. “You hear me?”

Travis’s hands went up in surrender, his expression wary. “Alright, alright. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Joel stared him down for another beat, his jaw tight, before turning on his heel and walking away. His fists were clenched, heat simmering in his chest long after the confrontation ended.

For a while after, Travis kept his distance, careful not to overstep again. But three years later, when he reappeared, asking you out as if that encounter had never happened, Joel was flooded with a familiar anger—and something else. The possessiveness he thought he’d buried roared back to life, impossible to ignore.

“Why don’t you like him?” you had asked Joel that afternoon, your voice laced with curiosity as you leaned against the counter, watching him with that determined look that always made him feel like there was no escape. He had just scoffed at Travis invitation, brushing it off like it was the most ridiculous idea he’d ever heard.

Joel barely paused before spinning his answer, sharp and dismissive.

“I just don’t like the guy,” he said, his tone gruff. His hand reached for the coffee mug on the table, more to occupy himself than because he needed another sip.  

You didn’t let it go, of course. You crossed your arms, head tilted, waiting for something more.  

“He’s... weird,” Joel added with a shrug, avoiding your gaze. “Something about him rubs me the wrong way.”  

That was a lie, and he knew it. The truth was more complicated, and Joel hated complicated. He didn’t like Travis because the guy seemed too perfect, too slick, the type who could charm everyone in the neighborhood without even trying. Worse, Travis hadn’t done anything genuinely wrong, and Joel knew it. Hell, he wasn’t even all that bad of a guy—just the kind who could make you laugh, who could say the right things at the right time. And Joel? He wasn’t about to admit that every quip and joke Travis threw your way felt like a punch to his gut.

The real problem was simpler, though Joel would never say it out loud: he didn’t want Travis—or anyone—getting close to you. Because deep down, he was terrified that if someone did, you’d start to drift away from him. Slowly, naturally, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He could already picture it—the quiet evenings you two spent together fading into quick hellos and polite smiles as your life began to revolve around someone else.  

And Joel wasn’t sure he could handle that.  

You didn’t make it easy for him, either. You’d always talked to him about your boyfriends—there weren’t many, but enough to leave a mark. He listened like the good friend he was supposed to be, his face calm and unreadable. He even gave you advice sometimes, measured and practical, and he pretended to be relieved when things didn’t work out. But the truth? He was selfish. He couldn’t deny the ugly twist in his stomach every time you lit up talking about someone new.  

The worst part was the details. You shared everything—how they made you feel, the way they looked at you, the tiny, romantic gestures that made your heart race. Joel would sit there, nodding along, while his insides churned. Sometimes, he was almost convinced you did it on purpose, like you wanted to poke at the feelings he’d buried so deep. But then he’d shake that thought away because it couldn’t be true. You didn’t see him like that.  

Still, the possessiveness lingered, and it wasn’t one-sided. Whenever Joel mentioned a woman he was seeing, your posture would stiffen ever so slightly. He noticed the way your smile faltered, the way you suddenly seemed distracted. Joel kept his descriptions vague, never giving you the kind of vivid details you offered him. At first, he found a strange satisfaction in your reactions. If it bothered you that much to imagine him with someone else, maybe—just maybe—you felt the same way he did.  

But then you’d start listing their flaws with pinpoint accuracy, dissecting them in a way that left him wondering if you had a secret playbook for unraveling his attempts at romance. And you were always right. Every critique you made landed, exposing cracks he’d tried to ignore, as though you saw right through his attempts to prove he had control over his feelings.  

It frustrated him, how easily you could tear down the façade he worked so hard to build. Yet a small part of him—a selfish, conflicted part—was glad. Because it meant you were paying attention, and maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to lose him either.

Sienna had taken him by surprise. She was unlike anyone Joel had encountered in a long time, and that unfamiliarity left him unsure how to talk about her—especially to you. He knew you were angry, and he couldn’t blame you. You had every right to feel shut out. Still, Joel couldn’t help but dig in his heels. His life was his own, and no matter how close you two were, some things felt too personal to share.

Yet, despite his stubbornness, the guilt lingered like a low hum in the back of his mind. He couldn’t stop replaying that night, the one you had so carefully planned, the kind of evening he usually dreaded but had come to cherish since you had entered his life.

It had been just the three of you: Sarah, you, and him. Tommy had bailed last minute, caught up in some errand or chore Joel couldn’t even remember now. But Tommy’s absence hadn’t dampened the warmth of the evening. It was perfect in its simplicity. Everything Joel loved most in the world sat around that small kitchen table, the faint glow of the overhead light softening the edges of the moment.

Joel wasn’t big on birthdays. He never had been, and neither were you, which was probably one of the reasons you understood him so well. For him, it was complicated. As a kid, he’d get excited—what child wouldn’t? But as he grew older, birthdays became a cruel reminder of time slipping away, of how life only seemed to grow more complicated with each passing year. 

The last time he had truly enjoyed the day was the year Sarah was born. He could still picture it vividly, like a snapshot preserved in his mind. He and Amelia had been newly married, their relationship rocky but held together by the promise of their daughter. Their apartment was small, the wallpaper peeling in the corners, but that night, none of it mattered.

Amelia had baked him a cake. It wasn’t anything fancy—a bit uneven, with frosting that leaned to one side—but Joel had loved it all the same. She had dimmed the lights and sung "Happy Birthday" softly, her voice barely above a whisper as he held Sarah in his arms. Joel blew out the single candle with a quiet wish: that this fragile moment of happiness might last forever.

After cake, he had sunk onto the couch, Sarah nestled against him, her rhythmic breathing lulling him into one of the most peaceful sleeps he’d ever had.

Joel hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the next thing he knew, Amelia was shaking him gently awake, her fingers brushing against his cheek.

“Come on, Joel,” she’d murmured. “Go to bed. You’ve got work in the morning.”

The next morning, Joel was stirred from sleep by the sound of Sarah’s crying. It was sharp and persistent, cutting through the fog of his exhaustion like a knife. His eyes fluttered open reluctantly, his body heavy with the weight of another long day ahead. He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling as the cries continued, loud and unrelenting. Something felt off, though he couldn’t quite place what it was.

“Amelia?” he called out groggily, his voice rough from sleep.

There was no response. The silence, save for Sarah’s escalating wails, gnawed at the edges of his unease. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Joel sat up, running a hand down his face as if to wipe away the lingering haze of sleep. His chest felt tight, a faint, inexplicable tension coiling there.

Pushing himself to his feet, he shuffled toward Sarah’s crib in the corner of the room. She was red-faced and wriggling, her tiny fists flailing in frustration. Joel bent down, scooping her up with the practiced ease of a man who had done this many times before.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured softly, rocking her gently against his chest. Her cries tapered off for a moment, replaced by hiccuping gasps, but it didn’t last. Soon enough, the wails returned, sharper and more insistent.

Joel recognized the sound immediately—it was hunger. The kind of cry that pierced through everything else, demanding attention. He adjusted her in his arms, cradling her close as he moved toward the kitchen.

“Amelia?” he called out again, louder this time, his voice tinged with irritation and concern.

Still no answer. His eyes scanned the dimly lit apartment, searching for any sign of his wife. That’s when he saw it—a piece of paper sitting on the kitchen table. Bright yellow, stark against the dark wood, it seemed out of place, almost glaring in the soft morning light.

Joel’s stomach twisted. A sinking feeling settled deep within him, heavy and cold. Shifting Sarah in his arms, he stepped closer, his boots creaking softly against the worn floorboards.

The note was short—just five lines scribbled hastily in Amelia’s familiar handwriting. Joel’s eyes moved over the words, his heart pounding in his chest as he read them.

She was gone.

The words blurred for a moment as the meaning sank in. She was gone. Amelia had left, abandoning both him and Sarah with nothing more than a half-hearted apology. The note was filled with excuses: This life isn’t for me. I need something more. I’m sorry. I can’t keep lying to myself. I can’t do this anymore.

Joel’s hand tightened around the paper, crumpling it as Sarah’s cries rose again, loud and demanding. The sound seemed to echo in the hollow space inside him, amplifying the storm that had begun to rage in his chest.

“Bullshit,” he muttered, his voice low and trembling with barely restrained fury. He tossed the crumpled paper onto the floor, watching it roll to a stop near the edge of the table.

The anger came fast and hard, crashing over him like a wave. It wasn’t sadness he felt—not yet. It was anger, raw and consuming. Anger that Amelia had been so cowardly, so selfish. She had left a note, five lines scrawled on a piece of paper, and walked away without looking back.

His fists clenched at his sides as his jaw tightened. She hadn’t just abandoned him—that, he could handle. Their marriage had been strained for a long time, both of them going through the motions more out of necessity than love. But Sarah? She had left their baby.

How could she walk away from their daughter, from the tiny life they had created together? Joel’s thoughts spiraled, his mind racing through every moment he had tried to make things work, every sacrifice he had made to ensure their family had a future.

Was it his fault? Had he pushed her too hard? Or had she been looking for an escape all along?

The questions churned in his mind, but Joel didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on them. Sarah needed him, her cries piercing through the fog of his thoughts. He held her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he rocked her gently.

“It’s just us now, baby girl,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll take care of you. Always.”

And in that moment, his anger hardened into resolve. He didn’t have the answers, and he didn’t have Amelia. But he had Sarah, and that was all that mattered.

From the moment Joel heard Sarah’s first cry, the sound pierced through him like a revelation, sharp and clear. In that instant, his entire world shifted. It was as though the pieces of his life, fractured and disorganized, suddenly rearranged themselves around this tiny, fragile being. Everything else fell away—the struggles, the exhaustion, even his own doubts. There was only her.

When he first held her, she felt impossibly small in his arms, her body warm and soft, her head nestled against his chest. She opened her tiny mouth, her cries quieter now but still insistent, and Joel couldn’t help but smile through the exhaustion. Her fist closed around his thumb, her fingers barely curling all the way, and he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

That was it. That was the moment he knew. Nothing else mattered. Not his job, not his own dreams or fears. Sarah was his purpose. She was everything, and he would do anything—everything—to protect her, to make sure she would always be safe and never want for anything.

He threw himself into work with a ferocity he hadn’t known he possessed. Early mornings turned into long nights, and he pushed through each shift with a singular thought in his mind: This is for Sarah. He dreamed of a better life for her, one where they wouldn’t have to struggle. He wanted her to grow up in a house with a backyard, not in the cramped apartment they currently called home.

But his hours away from home weighed heavily on Amelia. She spent most days cooped up in the apartment, caring for Sarah alone. Joel knew it wasn’t easy for her. He saw it in the lines of exhaustion etched into her face, the way her shoulders sagged by the end of the day.

One night, after a particularly grueling shift, Joel came home to find Amelia sitting on the couch, her head resting against the back of it, her eyes closed. Sarah was asleep in her crib, the faint hum of the baby monitor the only sound in the room. Joel sat down beside her, placing a hand gently on her wrist.

"You'll see," he murmured, his voice soft but firm. "Time's gonna fly by, and before we know it, she'll be runnin' around, goin' to school, talkin' our ears off. So fast, we'll wish we could turn back time and have her be a baby again."

Amelia opened her eyes, her gaze tired but sharp. “That’s easy for you to say,” she replied, her tone edged with bitterness. “You’re nobody’s barf towel, Joel. Sometimes I wish she’d grow up faster.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected, like a quiet punch to the gut. Joel felt a pang of guilt and tried to see things from her perspective. He knew she was overwhelmed. He knew his long hours left her bearing the brunt of the daily grind at home. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fully understand. For him, those fleeting moments with Sarah—feeding her, rocking her to sleep, holding her tiny hand—were treasures.

“I know it’s hard,” he said after a long silence, his voice heavy with sincerity. “But we're doing this for us, for her. So we can have more. So she can have more.”

Amelia sighed and stood up, muttering something about needing a shower. Joel stayed on the couch, his head in his hands. He was doing everything he could, wasn’t he? But the cracks in their relationship were growing deeper, and he didn’t know how to fix them.

And then, a week later, she left.

Joel didn’t care that Amelia had abandoned him—not really. Their relationship had been hanging by a thread for months, maybe longer. But the fact that she had walked away from Sarah? That was something he could never understand. How could a mother leave her own child?

Everything got harder after that. Joel had to reorganize his entire life. He adjusted his shifts at work, found a nanny he could afford, and learned to function on less than two hours of sleep. Every day was a balancing act, and every night he fell into bed completely spent, knowing he’d have to do it all over again the next day.

He was alone. Completely, utterly alone. His parents were long gone, and his friends were too busy with college and their own lives to offer more than the occasional word of encouragement. Tommy tried to help, moving in with him for a while to lend a hand. But Tommy was still just a kid himself, more often getting into trouble than out of it. Sometimes it felt like Joel was raising them both.

But no matter how hard it got, Joel never wavered. Sarah was his everything, his reason for pushing forward even when it felt impossible. And when he looked at her—her tiny smile, her bright, curious eyes—it was all worth it. For her, it would always be worth it.

Why would Joel want to celebrate his birthday? For years, the date had meant nothing to him. If anything, it was a day he preferred to forget. Even Amelia’s absence, once a source of raw pain, had dulled into something distant, like an old scar that no longer ached. He was better off without her, he often told himself. Why would he want someone in his life who could abandon her own child so easily, without a second glance?

Eight long years of birthdays came and went, each one passing without fanfare. That is, until you showed up.

It was a warm afternoon when Brenda knocked on Joel’s door, Ian trailing behind her with a small red-wrapped package in his hands. You stood next to them, your bright smile lighting up the quiet entryway as if it had been waiting for this exact moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” you asked, your voice full of playful reproach. You’d only been living next door for a couple of months, but you spoke as though you’d known him far longer.

Joel shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Didn’t think it was important.” His tone was casual, almost indifferent, but the way his eyes darted to the floor betrayed the discomfort he felt about the subject.

“Well, that won’t do,” you said with a firm nod, your excitement practically radiating off you. “We have to throw you a celebration.”

Before he could protest, you’d already begun making plans, dragging Tommy—who was lounging on Joel’s couch—into your whirlwind of preparation. In what felt like record time, you had organized a small dinner in your backyard, insisting on inviting the people Joel cared about most. Brenda, Ian, and of course, Tommy, were enlisted as guests, and Sarah eagerly volunteered to help with the preparations.

The two of you spent the afternoon in your kitchen, Sarah perched on a stool as she carefully spread cream over a sponge cake. It wasn’t perfect—some spots were uneven, and the red lettering that spelled “Happy Birthday Joel” varied wildly in size—but the effort was unmistakable. You even let Sarah place the single candle right above the word “birthday,” despite her giggles about it looking “a little crooked.”

In the backyard, you strung up Christmas lights, their warm glow transforming the space into something almost magical. A flowered tablecloth adorned the table, set with colored glass plates and matching glasses. It was simple, yet charming, and as Joel stepped outside to see what you had done, he felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest.

You stood there, watching him expectantly, your hands clasped together as if bracing for his reaction. Joel scanned the scene—the lights, the table, the cake—and then his gaze settled on you. He felt overwhelmed, unaccustomed to this kind of attention, to the idea that someone had gone out of their way to make him feel special.

“Do you like it?” you asked softly, a hint of uncertainty creeping into your voice.

Joel cleared his throat, nodding slowly. “Yeah,” he said gruffly, his voice betraying a mix of gratitude and awkwardness. “It’s… it’s nice. Real nice.”

What he couldn’t say—what he didn’t know how to say—was how much it meant to him. No one had ever done something like this for him before. Sure, Tommy would swing by with a gift and some good-natured ribbing, and Sarah always crafted him heartfelt gifts, usually paired with a movie night of her choosing. But this? This was different. It wasn’t just thoughtful; it was intentional.

You had done it simply to make him happy, without expecting anything in return. And that was what stayed with him.

A few weeks later, when your birthday rolled around, Joel found himself returning the gesture. He spent the better part of the day barbecuing in his backyard, carefully grilling your favorite dishes and picking up a cake from the bakery he’d overheard you mention. He wasn’t the most expressive man, but he wanted to show you how much your efforts had meant to him.

The party was small but warm, filled with laughter and good food. Joel watched you closely, noting the way your eyes lit up when you saw the cake, the way you laughed with Sarah and Tommy, the way you seemed lighter somehow.

It was only a few days later, during a quiet evening, that you opened up about your own complicated feelings toward birthdays.

“You know,” you began, sitting on Joel’s porch with a mug of tea in your hands, “I’ve never really liked my birthday either.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah? How come?”

Your birthday was always a delicate subject, one you rarely spoke about. The day carried a weight too heavy for celebration.

When you were fourteen, just two days before your birthday, your father passed away after a year-long decline that left him a shadow of the man he had once been. Your relationship with him had never been easy. There was a distance between you, a lack of understanding that made every interaction fraught with tension. He didn’t understand you, and you couldn’t bridge the gap to reach him. So, when his illness took hold, it wasn’t just his body that deteriorated—it was also any chance of finding common ground. Watching him grow weaker day by day, his spirit worn thin, felt like mourning someone you had never truly known.  

When he finally passed, it was strange. The grief was there, sharp and biting, but layered with regret, guilt, and a strange hollowness. Your mother, shattered by the loss, withdrew into her own anguish, locking herself in a grief so consuming that it swallowed her whole. She became a ghost of herself, distant and unreachable, leaving you to navigate the loss alone.  

Somehow, you were left adrift. With your father gone and your mother emotionally absent, the world seemed colder. The rest of your adolescence blurred into a haze of solitude. Nights became long and heavy, filled with tears that no one heard. Birthdays, once a day of excitement, became unbearable.  

“It’s not worth celebrating,” your mother had said one year, her voice hollow. “What’s the point? It’s just a reminder of what we lost.”  

And you believed her. You let the day pass quietly, pretending it didn’t matter. But deep down, it did. Every year, the ache in your chest returned, as if your father’s death had marked you in ways you couldn’t escape.  

When you moved to Austin, Cassie was determined to change that. She insisted on throwing you a party, bringing her friends together and decorating her small apartment with balloons and streamers. She wanted to make the day special, to give you the joy she believed you deserved. But instead of feeling included, you felt like a stranger in the crowd. The forced laughter and cheerful chatter only amplified the loneliness you carried inside.  

Joel noticed it immediately. From the first glance, he saw something in you that mirrored his own quiet pain, his own complicated relationship with birthdays and loss.  

With the Millers, though, it was different.  

Joel had a way of pulling you out of your own head. He didn’t ask if you wanted to celebrate; he simply turned on the music, took your hand, and pulled you into the courtyard to dance.  

“C’mon, don’t make me look ridiculous all by myself,” he teased, his hand warm and steady on yours.  

“I’m terrible at this,” you protested, laughing despite yourself as he spun you clumsily.  

“You think I’m any better?” he shot back, making an exaggerated face of concentration that sent you into a fit of giggles.  

His other hand rested lightly on your waist, tickling just enough to make you squirm.

“Stop!” you laughed, swatting at him, but Joel only grinned, spinning you again until you were both dizzy and breathless.  

The weight in your chest began to ease. Slowly, the familiar sadness faded, replaced by something you hadn’t felt in years—a glimmer of happiness. The music, Sarah’s laughter in the background, and Joel’s insistence on making you smile wove together into a moment so genuine that you couldn’t help but let go, even if only for a little while.

With the Millers, you felt something you hadn’t in years: belonging. Joel, Sarah, even Tommy—they made you feel like you were part of something bigger, something that mattered. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were happy. And for once, your birthday didn’t hurt. 

On the afternoon of his birthday, Joel made it a point to leave work early, a rare indulgence. The day had been grueling, his body carrying the weight of hours spent hauling, lifting, and concentrating through a persistent ache in his shoulders and arms. By the time he pulled into the driveway, fatigue clung to him like a second skin.

But the moment he stepped through the door, all of that began to melt away. The warm, savory aroma of your cooking wrapped around him like a welcoming embrace, teasing his senses and making his stomach rumble in anticipation. From the kitchen, he could hear Sarah's laughter, a sound so bright and carefree it seemed to lift the heaviness in his chest. And then there was your voice—soft and melodic, weaving effortlessly into the rhythm of his home, a sound that had come to symbolize comfort itself.

He paused in the doorway for a moment, letting it all wash over him. The tension in his shoulders began to ease, his mind quieting in a way it rarely did. Home. It wasn’t just the place—it was you, Sarah, the life you all shared within these walls.

As he stepped further inside, Joel noticed something different about you that evening. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on but felt instantly. He always noticed you—more than he liked to admit. His gaze often lingered longer than it should, studying the way your lips curved when you smiled, the way your hands moved with quiet purpose, the subtle shifts in your voice when you were excited or uncertain.

Tonight, though, it was as if the world had conspired to make you glow. You wore that dress he liked, the one that clung just enough to hint at your shape without being overdone. The warm light from the kitchen seemed to catch on your flushed cheeks, making your skin look soft, almost luminous. Your hair was tied up, exposing the graceful curve of your neck and the delicate, fine hairs at its nape.

He found himself staring, his fingers itching with the desire to reach out and touch that spot just beneath your ear, to let his thumb trace the softness of your skin. He could already imagine the way it would feel, the warmth of you under his touch. But Joel stopped himself, swallowing hard and forcing his hands into his pockets.

His tongue betrayed him then. A slip—a small comment, laced with more emotion than he intended.

The three of you sat around the table, and Joel took his first bite of the stew, eyes widening, a kind of bliss washing over his face. He tossed his head back and groaned.

“Sweet Glory,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “Thank you for this.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, though part of you couldn’t help but feel a pang of something between irritation and flattery. “You say that every time I cook for you.”

He shook his head, smiling as he chewed, then spoke softly, his gaze slipping downward.

“I’m not exaggerating—I love everything you do.” A pause, and then a quick, awkward clarification. “I mean, everything you cook.”

You didn’t seem to notice, though, your focus elsewhere. But Joel felt the heat rise in his face, a faint flush creeping over his cheeks. He turned away quickly, clearing his throat as if that could erase the moment. Joel hadn’t meant to say it aloud. The words slipped out before he could stop them, his voice soft but heavy with emotion.

I love everything you do. It wasn’t just a compliment—it was a confession, unguarded and dangerously close to exposing everything he’d tried so hard to bury.

If someone had told Joel how that night would end, he would have laughed, dismissed the thought outright. It was unthinkable, a fantasy he’d never let himself fully entertain. But as the hours unfolded, something inside him began to shift—subtle at first, like a whisper at the edge of his mind, then growing louder and more insistent.

But then came the emotions, rushing in like a storm—anger, jealousy, desire, all tangled together in a mess he couldn’t untangle. The anger was irrational, sharp and sudden, a flash of heat that burned at the thought of you smiling like that at someone else. The jealousy felt even worse, a bitter ache in his chest at the mere idea that you might one day belong to someone else, someone better than him. And the desire... it was unbearable. It had been building for so long, so quietly, that he hadn’t noticed it until it was too late to ignore.

Something broke inside him.

“Fine. I’ll leave you alone, and maybe then you can run across the street and fuck Travis Dunn, if you want it so badly,” he shot back, impatience tinging his voice as he turned toward the still-open door.

The words hit you like a slap. You froze for a moment, the anger washing over you in a wave. Before you could think twice, you rushed up to him, gripping his arm tightly to force him to turn and look at you.

“What the hell did you just say, Joel?” you hissed, grabbing his shirt, fingers bunching in the fabric as you backed him up until his shoulders hit the wall by the door. “Go on, say it again!”

Your breaths came fast, chest rising and falling as the rush of anger pushed tears to your eyes. You couldn’t believe he’d actually spoken to you like that, cutting right through to something raw and vulnerable. He’d never spoken to you like that before. Maybe he was a little drunk, or maybe he was losing his mind.

But there was no softness in his gaze, no hint of the Joel you knew. His stare was sharp, almost wild with something simmering underneath, something you didn’t understand. To you, this whole argument made no sense, at least not his reaction.

Joel’s grip on your wrist was firm, almost grounding, as he pulled you closer, pressing your palm against his chest. “I can’t stand that asshole, but go ahead and fuck him if you want,” he spat, voice laced with frustration. “Go fuck the whole neighborhood while you’re at it. I really don’t care anymore.”

His words were harsh, designed to cut, but they only drew a laugh from you—sharp and derisive. A tear slipped down your cheek, uninvited.

“What, did you ever care?” you asked, your voice trembling on the last syllable, thick with emotion.

But Joel didn’t respond, and the silence ignited a fire in you, something that swirled beneath the surface, ready to boil over.

“Do you know why we’re friends, Joel?” Your pulse quickened, each beat like a drum in your ears. “Because it just works between us. There are no ulterior motives. You know why? Because I don’t like you like that. You’re not even my type, and you never will be. And no, I’m not jealous that you’re dating some woman you’ll probably dump in less than a month, so get the fuck over it and leave me the fuck alone!”

He wasn’t your type. He wasn’t your type. He wasn’t your type? The words echoed in Joel’s mind, each repetition a fresh sting to his ego and a sharper stab to his heart. But your eyes told him a different story. They mirrored his own intensity, and that unspoken connection was undeniable. 

In that moment, he surrendered to an impulse he had fought to suppress countless times before. He kissed you, a kiss laden with every restrained emotion, and carried you to your room. The world around him blurred; it felt surreal, as if he were watching himself from a distance. Every sense was heightened, every touch electric, his entire being focused solely on you.

You were perfection to him. The intoxicating scent of your skin, the soft texture of your lips, the sweet taste of you—all of it was exquisite, overwhelming. When he was finally inside you, he felt as if his heart might explode from the sheer intensity of it. The warmth, the sweetness, the way it consumed him—it was almost too much to bear, almost too beautiful to be real. Every sound you made unraveled him further, pushing him closer to a peak he had thought unattainable. The desire that coursed through you felt almost tangible, as if he could taste it on his lips with every kiss.

As you drifted off to sleep beside him, your face looked so peaceful, so heartbreakingly beautiful, that Joel couldn’t resist. He leaned in, brushing the gentlest of kisses across your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids—each kiss a whisper of affection, as though trying to capture this fleeting moment. Only when the rhythm of your breaths lulled him into calm did he finally surrender to sleep at your side.  

But deep in the stillness of the night, he stirred awake. His emotions, once overwhelming, had quieted; his mind, no longer softened by the haze of passion, now felt sharp and cold. And then it struck him—a suffocating wave of fear.  

What had he done? What had he done? The question echoed relentlessly in his mind, each repetition laced with dread. He had crossed a line, dragging you into his chaos, disrespecting you in a way that made his stomach twist with guilt. He had shattered the bond you shared—a friendship he had held in the highest regard. He had taken something pure and irreversibly tainted it with his own selfish desires.  

Panic surged through him, relentless and unforgiving. How could you ever look at him the same way again? Surely, you wouldn’t want him in your life anymore. The thought of losing you gutted him.  

A storm of thoughts battered his mind as he quietly slipped out of your house like a ghost, each step feeling heavier than the last. The walk back to his own home was a blur of regret and self-recrimination. By the time he shut the door behind him, the weight of what he had done pressed down on him completely. He knew, with a sinking finality, that he had ruined everything.

He had ruined everything. 

And four days later, the dagger in his chest sank even deeper.

Swallowing hard, you tasted the salt of your tears, and it burned your throat like an unwelcome reminder of the turmoil within.

“I’m not sure I can be your friend anymore, Joel,” you confessed, your voice shaking with the weight of your admission.

He shook his head, disbelief flashing across his features as a weak smile broke through the hurt. It was as if he couldn’t quite fathom the words that had just escaped you.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do,” you asserted, each syllable a battle against the rawness in your chest.

“No, you don’t,” he countered, stepping back just inches, his tone laced with incredulity. The mocking sneer that crept onto his face felt more like a mask than a reflection of his true feelings, and yet, the moisture pooling in his eyes betrayed the battle raging within him.

You regarded him in silence, the atmosphere thickening with unspoken words as you watched his smile fade into something that was almost painful. It twisted his features, morphing into a look of discomfort that hung between you like an unsaid apology. He remained still, his gaze locked onto yours, waiting for you to break the tension with a word or a gesture. The sight of him like that burned inside you, igniting a longing to rewind time, to swallow your questions, to let him live his life free from the weight of your curiosity and the tangled feelings that had blossomed between you. But that wasn’t an option; the reality of your situation loomed large and unavoidable. You had to confront the truth: he didn’t feel the same way about you, and for him, sleeping with you felt like a transgression, a sin, a burden he couldn’t carry.

“Joel, please,” you began, your voice cracking under the pressure of your emotions. A tear slipped down your cheek, salty and bitter, tasting of the anguish that your words carried. “I can’t be your friend anymore. I can’t do this. I’m sorry, I really am, but you’re breaking my—” You hesitated, swallowing hard against the swell of grief that threatened to overwhelm you. “I think this is over.”

"She just needs time," Joel told himself, clinging to the fragile hope that things would eventually mend. But that comforting thought crumbled when he saw how easily you seemed to move on, as if he no longer existed in your world. You carried on with your life without so much as a glance in his direction, each moment of indifference cutting deeper. It felt like a deliberate erasure, and Joel's heart shrank under the weight of it, splintering all over again. Did you truly not want him in your life anymore?  

His decision to break things off with Sienna had come with a strange clarity. Her warmth, her charm—things he had once appreciated—now felt hollow, like they no longer belonged in his life. Joel couldn’t pretend otherwise. He couldn’t lie to her, tell her everything was fine, and carry on as though his heart wasn’t consumed by someone else. She deserved more than being a placeholder for feelings he couldn’t shake.  

In the aftermath of the breakup, Joel thought he might finally find the courage to come to you. To apologize, to face you honestly. He imagined himself laying it all out—his regret, his fear, and the possibility of something more. Perhaps, if you felt even a fraction of what he did, you could both explore the connection that had ignited that night. He had told himself he was ready to risk it all, to bare his soul if you would give him even a sliver of space to do so.  

The breaking point came when Tommy casually mentioned you and Travis. The words were innocuous, but the storm they unleashed within Joel was anything but. Something dark and bitter began to fester in his chest—jealousy, anger, resentment? He couldn’t quite name it, but it clawed at him, a toxic mix that he struggled to contain. It wasn’t his proudest moment. It wasn’t even close.  

“What’s this?” he asked, a note of suspicion in his voice.

Tommy leaned back, watching him with a faint smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

“Your girl next door gave it to me,” he replied, each word almost too measured. “Said it was yours.”

For a few moments, Joel just stood there, as if frozen, processing Tommy’s words. He looked down, finally lifting the lid and peering inside. There, neatly folded, was his sweatshirt—the one he’d handed you one chilly evening when he picked you up from work. Beneath that was his old Pearl Jam t-shirt, the one you’d borrowed after a swim in his pool last summer. His favorite coffee mug sat tucked in the corner, along with a few CDs, a dog-eared paperback he’d loaned you weeks ago. Each item seemed to carry its own little echo of the time he’d spent with you.

After a few seconds, Joel placed the lid back on the box, sliding it away from him with a muted thud. He kept his expression steady, but his jaw was set, and his eyes remained fixed on the counter.

“When did she give it to you?” he asked, his voice strained but steady.

“A few moments ago,” Tommy said with a shrug, holding back a smirk as he noticed the tightness in Joel’s expression. “Saw her walking back from Dunn’s house, actually.”

Joel let out a dry, sardonic laugh, a smile twisted in disbelief. "Right. Of course."

"Actually," Tommy said, savoring another spoonful of ice cream, "he walked her to the door, all sweet-like. Gave her the whole mushy goodnight routine—kiss, movie shit." His gaze stayed fixed on the bowl, though Joel could see the glint of mischief there, Tommy barely holding back a grin.

Joel’s fingers drummed on the counter, his gaze hardening. “She must be happy then,” he muttered.

Tommy didn’t look up, just continued with his ice cream, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Sure she looked that way to me.”

“Like I care,” Joel muttered, his gaze fixed hard on the box beside him, fingers curling against the edge as if steadying himself. “I can bet everything I’ve got she doesn’t even like him that much. That guy isn’t worth it, and she knows it.” 

Tommy’s mouth quirked with amusement as he leaned back against the counter.

“Too bad that’s not up to you,” he said, casually pushing Joel’s buttons, almost like he enjoyed watching his brother’s patience fray. “She looked happy. And for what it’s worth, in her own words, she does like him.” 

Later, in the solitude of his room, Joel tucked away the box—the one filled with memories and unfinished gestures. He couldn’t bear to look at it, to confront what it represented. Instead, he tried to distract himself, but the emotions that swirled within him refused to be ignored. But he didn’t. Fear, hesitation, and the unrelenting weight of what-ifs kept him rooted in silence.

What Tommy told him shattered any remaining hope Joel had of making things right with you. Whatever fragile intentions he had to mend the rift between you dissolved in an instant, crushed under the weight of his own assumptions.  

You had moved on, hadn’t you? It seemed so, as if you had turned a new page in your life without a second thought. Apparently, that night with Joel hadn’t meant as much to you as it had to him. The realization struck like a knife, twisting with every memory of that fleeting connection he had held onto so desperately. Anger bubbled up alongside the pain, a raw, bitter cocktail of emotions that left him reeling. He wanted to show you that he could move on, too—that he wasn’t as affected, that he could be indifferent.  

But the act fell apart every time he saw you with Travis. The sight of the two of you together hollowed him out. You looked happy, didn’t you? The way you smiled, the ease with which you leaned into Travis—it was more than Joel could bear. Each moment of apparent joy between you and this other man chipped away at something inside him, leaving him feeling smaller, more fractured.  

Still, the urge to seek your forgiveness lingered. It gnawed at him, the desire to bridge the gap and find some way to fix what had been broken. But every time he mustered the resolve to approach you, his feelings betrayed him. Anger surged to the surface, overpowering the vulnerability he had tried so hard to embrace.  

Instead of mending things, he withdrew, consumed by resentment and heartache. The man he became in those moments was someone he didn’t recognize—someone fueled by a mixture of longing and bitterness, too afraid to confront the truth of what he felt, yet unable to let it go. 

“That’s mine,” he said.

“What?” you managed, almost gasping, your eyes darting between his face and his hands, as if looking for something—anything—to explain this new, impossible tension. 

Joel didn’t move. He was still, a presence that loomed larger by the second. His gaze was steady on you, tracing your body and your face, slow and deliberate.

“The flannel,” he repeated, his voice dropping lower, rough around the edges. “It’s mine.”

You looked down at the fabric, the soft, familiar warmth of it, and felt a sudden jolt. God. He was right. It was his. But it had been yours for years. You'd worn it so often, so comfortably, that you'd forgotten it ever belonged to anyone else. Maybe he'd lent it to you once, a lifetime ago, on one of those cold nights when you both sat under blankets. But he’d never asked for it back, had he? He never seemed to care, and you never thought to return it. It had just... stayed with you.

When you lifted your eyes back to him, Joel had moved off the wall, stepping toward you with slow, deliberate steps, closing the distance between you. Too close. He was too close, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body as his presence engulfed you.

“What happened?” His voice was soft, but there was a simmering undercurrent, a teasing tone that made your pulse quicken, though you weren’t sure why. “Did you forget to include it in your little box when you gave everything back to me?”

You felt a bitter chuckle bubble in your throat, an angry little sound that you couldn’t quite hold back. You shook your head slightly, irritated, your chest tight as you opened your mouth to speak, but he interrupted you, his words coming fast, sharper than before.

“Doesn’t your little boyfriend mind you wearing another man’s clothes?” he asked, his voice dripping with something like disdain, like he had been holding that question inside for far too long. His eyes darkened, gliding down to the fabric again, then to your body, before he reached forward, his fingers brushing the edge of the flannel as if testing the boundaries. “Or does he already know this isn’t the only thing of mine that’s wrapped around you?”

Later that night, Joel’s fingers entwined with Clara’s, but her hand was cold, and the contact felt unnatural. When she wrapped her arm around his, an almost visceral rejection welled up in him. Her touch wasn’t comforting; it was suffocating.

The pair walked in silence as they left the Hoffmans’ yard. Joel kept his eyes ahead, determined not to glance back. But he couldn’t help himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you resting your head against Travis’s chest, your body cocooned in his jacket. The sight made Joel’s stomach twist painfully.

This was his fault. He replayed the night in his mind, how he’d told you to take off his shirt, how he’d inadvertently pushed you closer to Travis. Regret pressed heavily on him, a weight he couldn’t shake.

“Do you like wine?” Clara’s voice broke the silence as they neared her house.

Joel turned to her, his gaze distant, his mind still lost elsewhere. His entire body felt stiff, as though rejecting even the possibility of being there.

“Actually, I should get home,” he said abruptly, his voice flat.

Clara blinked at him, her expression faltering. Her easy smile gave way to a confused grimace, but Joel didn’t try to read her emotions.

“Oh,” she murmured, awkwardly. Then, with a hesitant laugh, she added, “Why don’t you come in for a bit? We could… have some fun.” Her hand reached for the collar of his shirt, a playful but suggestive gesture.

Joel gently pushed her hand away, the discomfort etched across his face.

"I really don’t feel like it," Joel said, his voice sharper than he meant it to be, the irritation slipping through despite his effort to hold it back. "And if I’m bein’ honest, I don’t like the way you’re always throwin’ yourself at me, especially in front of everybody like that. It ain’t right, and it sure as hell don’t sit well with me."

The words hung heavily in the air, cutting and cruel. Joel knew his tone wasn’t fair—it came from anger that had little to do with Clara herself. But he didn’t care. If anything, it was a chance to end this farce, to kill two birds with one stone.

Clara’s face flushed, embarrassment washing over her features. She stammered, “Then… why did you invite me to come with you?”

"I wanted to tell you in private," Joel drawled, his voice low and steady, each word carrying the weight of his frustration. "I don’t like you, Clara. Not like that. It ain’t fair to either of us. So why don’t you just go on and find someone else, someone who actually wants what you’re offerin’?"

Her lips parted, as though to say something, but Joel didn’t wait to hear it. His feet were already carrying him away, his thoughts full of you. Always you.

He cursed himself silently, the same harsh words looping in his mind. He was always screwing up, always doing the wrong thing. Everything he touched seemed to fall apart, especially where you were concerned. It was as if he was wired to ruin everything.

He was screwing up, screwing up so bad that he kept hurting you. And he knew there was no turning back when that Saturday after the Halloween party, your eyes had locked onto his, sharp and unyielding, cutting through him like shards of glass. Your voice, heavy with pain, lingered in his mind, echoing with all the things he couldn’t fix.

"Do you think what you’re doing is right, Joel?" you asked, your tone sharper than before, slicing through the fragile quiet between you.

His brows knit together, confused, and he tilted his head slightly as if to ask what you meant.

"Do you think you’re accomplishing anything by sleeping with the women in this neighborhood?" you continued, your words rushing out faster now. "I mean, first you sleep with me—oh, the worst mistake of your life—then you sleep with Clara. And what about Sienna? What does she think of all this? You’re a selfish, irresponsible man, Joel Miller, so irresponsible." The words kept spilling, your voice trembling now, laced with both anger and something softer, something that felt like pain. "And as if that wasn’t enough, you’ve ruined us. Completely. And I hate you for that, Joel. I hate you because you’re not the man I thought you were. And i love you so much I—"

Your gaze dropped to the ground, unable to meet his eyes. The tears welled up before you could stop them, blurring the edges of your vision and leaving your cheeks hot.

You hated how raw it all felt. How exposed. And worse, how the alcohol that had loosened your tongue was no longer numbing enough to shield you from the reality of what you’d just said.

Before you could stop him, Joel’s hands came to rest gently on your arms. The warmth of his touch made your stomach flip, and it took everything in you to pull away.

“No,” you said firmly, shaking him off and turning on your heel. But you barely managed two steps before your foot caught awkwardly in front of the other, sending you stumbling.

You yelped as your palm scraped against the ground, but Joel caught your other arm before you could fully collapse. The heat of embarrassment rushed to your face as you stood quickly, brushing off your dress and refusing to look at him.

You marched toward your door with renewed determination, ignoring the sting in your palm and the sound of his voice calling after you.

“Wait,” he said, his tone softer now, almost pleading. 

But you didn’t stop. Your trembling fingers fumbled with the key, eyes fixed on the lock as if opening the door quickly enough could make him—and everything you’d just said—disappear.

The key slid into the lock on your first try, a stroke of luck you hadn’t expected. You stumbled inside, not bothering to close the door behind you. Maybe it was unconscious, or maybe some buried, foolish part of you wanted him to follow. Whatever the reason, Joel did, shutting the door softly as he stepped in, his footsteps trailing after your clumsy, rushed ascent up the stairs. His hand found your lower back more than once, steadying you whenever your feet betrayed you and your balance faltered.

When you reached your room, his presence pressed down on you, heavy and inescapable. Your chest felt tight, emotions boiling over with an intensity you couldn’t contain. The exhaustion—of everything—clawed at your insides, raw and relentless.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you spat, spinning to face him, your palms colliding with his chest in a sharp slap. The sound echoed between you, loud and angry. You hit him again, this time harder, though he barely moved, only stepping back an inch. “Fuck you. Fuck you. You’re a complete asshole, and I hate you. I hate you so much.” Your fists clenched, pounding against him now, the blows strong but harmless.

The pain in your eyes, the tremor in your voice—it shattered Joel completely. Every crack in your expression, every unsteady word, drove home the truth he had been avoiding: he had hurt you. Deeply. Irrevocably. And in that moment, the weight of his guilt became unbearable. He felt like he deserved every ounce of hatred and anger you could muster, every harsh word or cold glance. Hell, he deserved worse. He deserved every bad thing the world could throw at him.  

When you lay down on the bed, exhausted and emotionally raw, Joel felt an overwhelming urge to stay. He wanted to be near you, to watch over you, to be a steady presence even if you didn’t want him there. But your words had been clear, leaving no room for misunderstanding. Reluctantly, he obeyed, dragging his heavy feet out of your space. The weight of his body mirrored the weight in his chest as he trudged home.  

Once inside the dark silence of his living room, the self-loathing consumed him entirely. He sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands as the shame and regret clawed at him. How could he have done this to you? How could he have hurt the sweetest, kindest woman he had ever known? He replayed every misstep, every moment he let his anger or fear get in the way of treating you the way you deserved.  

Joel knew he had to make it right, no matter the cost. He had to apologize, to lay bare his mistakes and accept whatever consequences you chose to impose. Even if it meant watching you move on with Travis.  

The thought of seeing you with another man was agonizing, like a knife twisting in his chest. But Joel couldn’t ignore the truth: despite his disdain for Travis, the man made you happy. He’d seen it in your laughter, the easy way you leaned into him, the light in your eyes that Joel himself had dimmed. And wasn’t that what you deserved? Happiness, warmth, stability—all the things Joel doubted he could give you.  

He hated himself for the jealousy that still lingered, for the bitterness that coiled inside him like a serpent. But more than that, he hated himself for failing you. You deserved better. So much better. And if Travis was that for you, Joel would accept it, no matter how much it tore him apart.

But then, when you went to his house...

He would never have imagined the way your lips sought his again, desperate, hungry. Joel could hardly believe what was happening. The feel of your kiss finding him again, so warm, perfect—it was as if the world had tilted off its axis. For a moment, he thought he must be dreaming. Maybe this was all in his head, his mind playing tricks on him because he couldn’t bear the thought of you being gone. It was too perfect, too real. He convinced himself that any second now, he’d wake up and find himself alone again, lost in the hollow ache of regret.  

But no, you were there. Really there. Beneath him once again. The weight of your presence was grounding, pulling him back into a reality where everything felt possible, where maybe—just maybe—he could make things right. Your head resting on his chest, the soft rise and fall of your breath against his skin—it was everything he had wanted and more. For the first time in weeks, Joel felt at peace. His heart beat so strongly in his chest it felt as though it could burst, and for a moment, he forgot all the mistakes, all the pain. Nothing could ruin this. Nothing, least of all him.  

This time, he promised himself, he would do things right. He wouldn’t let fear dictate his choices. He wouldn’t push you away. He couldn’t. Not again.  

But just as quickly as that fragile peace had settled—

Sarah arrived, interrupting the quiet moment with a sudden presence that jolted him awake. The sound of her voice was enough to make him freeze, the peace slipping away.  

Downstairs in the living room, Joel forced himself to straighten, to steady his nerves. His hands were clammy, his pulse racing, but he masked it all. His posture was rigid, controlled, serious as always. Nothing about him would give away the chaos he felt inside.  

You looked between Sarah and him, your gaze flicking back and forth, and Joel noticed the shy smile that touched your lips. His chest tightened, but he couldn’t help but notice the softness in your expression. 

"C'mon, what do you wanna eat?" she asked. "You're staying, right?"

“I… sure, uh, I don’t—I have to do something first, okay?” you said, your voice a little unsteady, a little unsure, but there was a determination in your eyes that he couldn’t ignore.  

Sarah, ever the curious one, tilted her head, her face full of contentment, though it quickly shifted to confusion.

“What?” she asked, a hint of innocence in her voice.  

Joel, feeling the need to regain control of the situation, stood up from the doorframe. He walked over to Sarah, his hand gently resting on her shoulder, grounding himself in the familiar warmth of his daughter.  

“Why don’t you help me pick out dinner in the meantime?” he suggested, keeping his voice calm and steady, just like he always did. It was the easiest way to pull Sarah away, to give you space without making it obvious.  

Without another word, you left his house, your legs unsteady, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts, of questions. Joel watched you go, his chest heavy, knowing that what had just happened was different.

As he watched you leave, he knew one thing for certain: Sarah was going to wait for you for dinner. That, at least, was something he could count on.

[anticipatedexhale]

Can you do the arcane characters with a s/o who is obsessed with their looks and how they’re perceived to others?

Hellooo <3 ofc I can!!

Just a disclaimer u are absolutely gorgeous and wonderful just the way you are! Inside and out! Don't let fake standards and false words put by society get to you please, love yourself just the way u are because although it's the hardest type of love to achieve it's also the most fulfilling<33

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Wish I could be like you, but I’m not that cool.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, ekko, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi, sevika

☆ ◞ summary: when you care too much it starts to backfire on you, when you think you lost everything they are right beside you.

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader, tons of bad talk about ones body and self, insecurities that may be triggering you some so please be careful while reading.

Jayce Talis.

Jayce had always been confident—he knew who he was, what he stood for, and never really cared much about what others thought of him. So when he started noticing how much you worried about your looks and how people perceived you, it caught him off guard.

At first, he thought it was just normal self-care. Everyone liked to look good, right? But then he started picking up on the little things.

The way you’d constantly check your reflection in any shiny surface you passed. The way you’d subtly adjust your outfit over and over, as if trying to perfect it. How you’d bite your lip and glance around nervously when someone so much as whispered near you, convinced it was about you.

And when you two were out together? Forget about it. You agonized over every detail—your hair, your posture, your expressions. Always making sure you were just right.

Jayce hated seeing you stress over it.

One evening, you were getting ready for an event, adjusting your outfit for what felt like the fiftieth time, inspecting yourself in the mirror with a deep frown.

"Does this look okay?" you asked for the third time in ten minutes. "Maybe I should change. Do you think people will—"

Jayce sighed and gently grabbed your hands, pulling you away from the mirror.

“Babe,” he said softly, his brows furrowed in concern. “Why does it matter so much what other people think?”

You hesitated, looking down. “I just… I don’t want to embarrass you. Or myself. People talk, Jayce.”

His expression softened. “I don’t give a damn what people say. And you shouldn’t either.”

You sighed, but he wasn’t done. He cupped your face, tilting it up so you had to look at him.

“You’re already perfect,” he murmured. “I don’t care what you’re wearing, how your hair looks, or what people think. They don’t see what I see.”

You swallowed, throat tight. “…And what do you see?”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Someone incredible. Someone who makes me laugh, who makes me proud every damn day. Someone I’d still be crazy about even if you walked into that party wearing mismatched shoes and a potato sack.”

You let out a startled laugh, rolling your eyes. “A potato sack?”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Yep. You’d still be the best-looking person in the room.”

You sighed, leaning into his touch. “…You really don’t care?”

“Not one bit,” he promised. “I just want you to be happy. Not stressing over what a bunch of nobodies think.”

His words hit deep. And for the first time in a long time, you actually believed them.

Maybe—just maybe—you didn’t need everyone else’s approval.

Maybe Jayce’s was enough.

------------------------------------------------

Mel Medarda.

Mel had always been surrounded by high society, where appearances were more than just about beauty—they were about power, influence, and command. She’d been taught from a young age how to control the room with a well-placed smile, a confident stance, and the right attire. But while she had mastered the art of fitting into the expectations of others, she’d never let them control her.

When she first noticed your obsession with your appearance—how you would fret over the smallest detail, constantly worry about what others thought, and always seek validation from the people around you—she didn’t rush to correct you. Instead, she observed, trying to understand why it mattered so much to you.

One evening, you were preparing for another event, this time a gala held by Piltover’s elite. You stood in front of the mirror, your eyes darting between your reflection and the wardrobe full of options, your fingers pulling at your hair, your expression one of deep dissatisfaction.

“Mel,” you said, voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t think I’m ready for this. I’m just not—”

She stepped into the room with the effortless grace she was known for, her gaze soft yet intense as she approached you. “You’re just not what?” she asked, her voice calm but laced with concern.

“I don’t know… I feel like I don’t belong here,” you confessed, your hands wringing together. “I keep thinking about what people will say when they see me. What if they don’t think I’m… enough?”

Mel’s brow furrowed as she gently placed her hands on your shoulders, turning you to face her fully. “Let me ask you something,” she began, her tone serious but tender. “Why do you care so much about what they think?”

You looked down, not quite able to meet her eyes. “Because if I don’t look a certain way, if I’m not perfect, I feel like I won’t matter.”

Mel took a deep breath, stepping closer to you, her hands gently lifting your chin so you had no choice but to look at her. Her gaze softened as she studied you for a moment, her fingers brushing the side of your face.

“Sweetheart,” she began, her voice quiet but steady. “You are already more than enough. I’ve seen you, not just with your looks, but with your heart, your intelligence, your strength.” She smiled softly. “You think people are only judging you based on how you look, but the truth is, they want to see you. They want to know you—the person who carries themselves with such grace and confidence, the one who makes them wonder how they missed such brilliance.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as her words sank in.

“I’ve spent so much of my life trying to fit into others' expectations. To be what people wanted me to be,” Mel continued, her eyes locking with yours, unwavering. “But I realized that I will never be happy that way. And neither will you. So stop letting your worth be defined by others. You have everything you need inside of you already.”

You blinked, the warmth of her words washing over you. “But… I still feel like I’m not enough sometimes.”

Mel gently cupped your face, leaning in until her forehead rested against yours. “Then let me remind you every day how much you mean to me. You’re perfect just as you are.”

You swallowed, a smile tugging at your lips. “I think I’m starting to believe you.”

With a soft chuckle, Mel pulled back slightly. “Good. Now let’s go out there, and when they look at you, let them see the amazing person I see.”

And as she helped you get dressed, there was a quiet understanding between you two. Mel never pressured you to be anyone else, but she also knew how to help you realize that you had more power than you gave yourself credit for.

------------------------------------------------

Viktor.

Viktor’s perspective on beauty had always been one of deep pragmatism. His entire life had been about improving, evolving, and focusing on the mind’s capacity to achieve, while the world outside often seemed obsessed with superficial qualities. He’d never cared much for what others thought of him or how he looked. But when it came to you, it was different.

He’d noticed, more and more, how often you seemed preoccupied with your appearance. You would spend hours before a mirror, adjusting your clothes or making sure every strand of hair was in place, always worried about what others might think. Sometimes, even after all the effort, there was a quiet dissatisfaction in your expression, and it made him wonder how much you truly believed in yourself.

One evening, after a long day of work, Viktor arrived home to find you sitting on the couch, still in your outfit from earlier. Your gaze was fixed on your phone screen, scrolling through images of other people’s lives, comparing your appearance to theirs. Your posture was tense, your brows furrowed in frustration.

Viktor quietly approached, his voice soft yet steady as he spoke your name. “You’re still awake? What’s going on, love?”

You glanced up, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just thinking. About how everyone seems to have it all figured out. How they look perfect, and I’m… well, I don’t know.” You trailed off, your gaze dropping back to your phone.

Viktor, noticing the sharp contrast between your usual confident self and the person sitting before him, knelt beside the couch, taking your hand gently in his. His tone was patient, understanding, but there was a certain firmness that made you look up at him.

“Your worth has never been determined by someone else’s perception of you,” he said, his voice quiet but intense. “You’ve spent so much time trying to please others, trying to fit a mold you never asked for. But I need you to understand something, love…”

You looked at him, unsure, waiting for him to continue.

“You are far more than just the sum of your physical appearance or the validation of others,” Viktor continued, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You are a person of substance, of intellect, of heart. And that’s what I fell in love with. Not the way you look, but who you are.”

You swallowed, feeling a lump in your throat. Viktor’s gaze softened as he reached for your hand, gently lifting it to his lips. “And you don’t need to change for anyone. Not for me, not for anyone.”

There was silence between you, broken only by the soft hum of the city outside. His words settled in your chest, easing the tension that had built up over the past few hours.

“I just feel like I’m constantly chasing something I can never achieve,” you admitted quietly. “Trying to be perfect, trying to be what everyone else expects.”

Viktor’s eyes darkened with concern, but he smiled gently. “What if I told you that the most perfect version of yourself is already here? Right now, in this moment? That you are more than enough, as you are?”

His words were simple, but they carried the weight of years of wisdom, of someone who had seen the world through a lens of endless improvement. Slowly, you found yourself leaning into him, feeling the comfort of his embrace and the security of his steady presence.

“I’m still learning, Viktor,” you whispered, your head resting against his chest. “Learning to accept myself.”

“And I’ll be here,” he murmured, his voice warm and unwavering. “Every step of the way. To remind you that you’re perfect, not because of how you look, but because of who you are.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his words sink deep into your soul. In that moment, with Viktor by your side, you realized that the person you needed to please the most was yourself. And with him, you finally understood that your worth was never tied to anyone’s expectations—but rather, to the person you were, inside and out.

------------------------------------------------

Caitlyn kiramman.

Caitlyn was never one to place much value on appearances. Sure, she knew the importance of looking presentable, especially in her position, but she also understood that true beauty went beyond what the eye could see. For Caitlyn, what truly mattered were values, intellect, and integrity. But when she noticed you often fretting over your appearance, constantly adjusting your outfit, and seeking validation from others, it tugged at her heart. She could tell you weren’t feeling your best, but didn’t know how to reach you—until one quiet evening.

After a long day at work, Caitlyn came home to find you in front of the mirror once again, changing clothes, adjusting your makeup, and constantly re-evaluating your reflection. She leaned in the doorway for a moment, watching you with a concerned expression.

You didn’t even notice her at first, your mind lost in the whirlwind of doubts that always seemed to surface when you weren’t in her company. “I don’t know, Cait. What if I’m not enough?” you muttered under your breath, pulling at the collar of your shirt as if it could make you feel better. “What if they don’t think I’m… beautiful enough?”

Caitlyn stepped into the room quietly, her voice gentle but firm. “Why do you think that?”

You jumped, not expecting her to be standing so close. “Oh… I didn’t hear you.” You gave a weak smile, clearly still upset.

“Babe, what’s going on? You’ve been like this for a while now,” she said softly, her eyes meeting yours. She stepped closer and reached for your hand, her touch warm and reassuring. “What are you looking for?”

You hesitated, glancing at your reflection before turning to face her. “I just… I feel like people judge me all the time. What if they don’t like how I look? What if I’m too much for them? Or not enough?”

Caitlyn’s expression softened with a mix of empathy and concern. She could feel how deeply you were struggling, and though she didn’t share your worries about appearances, she understood the burden of those feelings. She gently cupped your face in her hands, tilting your chin so your eyes met hers.

“Look at me,” she said, her voice low but confident. “You are enough. Right now, in this moment, you’re more than enough.”

You blinked, her words striking a chord deep inside. “But what if people think I’m…”

She cut you off gently. “You are beautiful, but more than that, you’re incredible. You make a difference. You’re kind, intelligent, and strong. No outfit or hairstyle is going to change that.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as her words began to sink in. “But what if I’m not… what people expect?”

Caitlyn smiled, her hands gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t need to live up to anyone’s expectations but your own. I fell in love with you for who you are, not because of how you look. And I’ve never been more proud of you than I am right now, just by being yourself.”

Her sincerity made your heart swell, and despite your lingering doubts, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Caitlyn didn’t care about the opinions of others; she cared about you—and that was all that mattered.

“I guess I’ve been so focused on trying to be perfect that I forgot how to just be me,” you admitted softly.

Caitlyn chuckled, her thumbs gently rubbing circles on your cheeks. “And I’ll remind you every day that you don’t need to be perfect for anyone. You’re perfect for me.”

You leaned into her touch, a sense of comfort settling in your chest. “Thank you, Cait. I really needed to hear that.”

She smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Anytime. And just so you know, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out. You don’t have to change a thing.”

In that moment, you realized that your true beauty didn’t lie in how others saw you, but in how Caitlyn saw you—and how you saw yourself when you let go of the expectations that had once held you back.

---------------------------------------------------

Vi.

Vi had always been more about strength and character than appearances. She had a no-nonsense attitude and didn’t care much for superficial things. Whether in a fight or just hanging out, she preferred to focus on what truly mattered—what was inside a person. So when she noticed you obsessing over how you looked, constantly tweaking your outfit or worrying about how others perceived you, it threw her off. She couldn’t quite understand why you’d feel like you weren’t enough when to her, you were already perfect just as you were.

One evening, after a particularly tough day, Vi returned home to find you sitting on the couch, eyes glued to your phone, flipping through social media. You’d been quiet all evening, and she could tell something was bothering you. As she approached, she noticed you adjusting your outfit for the fourth time, pulling at the hem of your shirt, checking the mirror again.

Vi raised an eyebrow, concern flashing across her face. “You good, babe? You seem a little… distracted.”

You didn’t look up, still preoccupied with your reflection. “I don’t know. I just feel like people always judge me. I mean, look at them, Vi,” you said, showing her your phone screen, where a bunch of influencers and well-dressed people filled the screen. “Why can’t I look like that? I don’t know… I just feel like I’m never enough, no matter what I do.”

Vi looked at the screen for a moment before setting it down gently, stepping closer to you. “Hey, look at me,” she said, her voice a little more serious now. “I don’t get it. You’ve got all this beauty inside and out, and you’re worried about some picture on a screen?”

You gave a little laugh, but it was hollow. “It’s not just a picture, Vi. People always notice what I wear, what I look like. I feel like I’m always trying to fit into something I’m not.”

Vi tilted your chin up, meeting your eyes with that intense, protective gaze of hers. “You don’t need to fit into any mold, babe. You’re not some... trend to follow. You’re you. And trust me, that’s more than enough.”

You looked away, unsure. "But people don't see that. They only care about the surface."

Vi sighed, her expression softening as she sat next to you. She took your hand in hers, her grip strong but comforting. "You know what I see when I look at you? I see a person who's been through a lot, someone who doesn't need to put on a mask to be loved. Someone who's real. And that's what makes you so amazing. I don't give a damn about what anyone else thinks. And I know you don't need to change for anyone."

You let out a breath, trying to hold back the feelings bubbling up inside. Vi, with her blunt honesty and genuine affection, had a way of cutting through the noise, and for the first time in a while, you felt like maybe you weren’t as lost as you thought.

Vi leaned in, resting her forehead against yours. “You know I love you for exactly who you are, right? And if you’re worried about how others see you, then maybe you should let them see the real you. Because that’s who I love. The real you. Not some version of you trying to impress everyone else.”

You could feel her words sinking in, easing the pressure you hadn’t even realized had been building. You felt a sense of calm begin to wash over you as Vi’s embrace tightened, holding you close.

"I know I'm tough and rough around the edges," she whispered, a playful smile tugging at her lips, "but you don’t need to be anything other than what makes you happy. And if that means wearing your favorite old shirt or going makeup-free, I’m still gonna think you’re the best thing in the world."

A small laugh escaped your lips, and you found yourself relaxing into her warmth. “Thanks, Vi. I needed that.”

Vi grinned, kissing the top of your head. “Anytime, babe. Just remember: you’re perfect to me, just the way you are.”

In that moment, surrounded by her love and honesty, you realized that the only opinion that truly mattered was the one that came from within—and with Vi, you were finally starting to believe it.

------------------------------------------------

Jinx.

Jinx was many things—chaotic, unpredictable, and loud—but when it came to you, she was surprisingly sensitive. Her world had always been in a constant state of madness, but there was something calming about being with you. You were her rock, her one constant in the storm. That’s why it bothered her so much when she noticed you obsessing over how you looked, always fidgeting with your clothes, your hair, or your makeup, constantly worried about how others saw you.

One evening, after a particularly wild day of mayhem (courtesy of Jinx, of course), you sat on the couch, staring at your phone screen. Your brows were furrowed, your thumb scrolling through social media, comparing yourself to others. Jinx had been watching you for a while, and it was starting to get under her skin.

"Hey, you!" she suddenly called out, practically throwing herself onto the couch next to you, her usual enthusiasm filling the room.

You jumped a little, distracted. “Oh, hey, Jinx. What’s up?” You didn’t look up from your phone, still fixated on the images that seemed to be making you feel worse with every swipe.

Jinx tilted her head, studying your face closely. Her blue hair bounced as she moved, and her expression softened just a little. “You’ve been like this for a while now,” she said, a hint of concern lacing her voice. “Why do you keep looking at that stuff?”

You sighed, showing her your phone. “I don’t know. I just feel like I’m always trying to keep up with everyone else, you know? They always look so… perfect. I feel like I don’t measure up.”

Jinx blinked, her usual manic energy quieting for a moment as she processed your words. "What do you mean, perfect?" she asked, her voice almost childlike in its confusion. “Perfect’s boring, though! I mean, sure, it’s fun to be perfectly insane, but... you’re way cooler than perfect! Who needs to be that?”

You looked at her, a little unsure. “I just… I don’t know, Jinx. I feel like I’m always trying to be someone I’m not, trying to look like everyone else. But nothing ever feels good enough.”

Jinx leaned back dramatically, her arms spread wide. “You wanna know something? I don’t think you need to look like anyone else, ever!” she said, her eyes wide and full of her usual chaotic energy. “You’re already amazing the way you are, and I don’t get why you keep looking at that stuff. I mean, look at me—no one can look like me and that’s what makes me awesome! So you just need to be you, okay?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her randomness, even as a weight still sat heavy in your chest. Jinx smiled brightly, completely oblivious to the way her words were beginning to work their magic. “I know you think you gotta be something you’re not, but I love you just as you are. You’re like… the best thing ever! You don’t need to change anything to impress anyone, especially not me.”

She leaned forward then, her hands clasping yours tightly. Her wild eyes softened as she looked at you with an intensity that was rare for her. “I love you, okay? You—with all the stuff you think isn’t perfect. I don’t need a perfect you. I need you, the one with all the quirks and the weird little things that make you you!”

You blinked, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at her words. Jinx had a way of making things seem so much lighter, her chaotic nature always breaking through the heaviness of your own doubts. Her laugh was like music, and the more she spoke, the more you felt the pressure you had been putting on yourself start to lift.

“Jinx,” you whispered, squeezing her hand. “Thank you. I think I just needed to hear it from you. I’ve been so focused on trying to change, I forgot what made me… me.”

“Exactly!” Jinx exclaimed, throwing her hands up like she had just made the greatest revelation in the world. “Just be you, and if anyone else doesn’t get it, then they’re the ones who are messed up! You’re freaking awesome, and I’m lucky to have you.”

She pulled you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around you with surprising gentleness. "Don’t ever try to be anything other than you again, okay?" she whispered into your ear. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

You rested your head on her shoulder, feeling a sense of comfort in the chaos that only Jinx could provide. With her by your side, maybe, just maybe, you could start to let go of the expectations that others had placed on you—and just embrace the person you were.

And with that, Jinx’s chaotic energy became the balm you didn’t know you needed, reminding you that in this world of uncertainty, the most important thing was being true to yourself.

---------------------------------------------------

Ekko.

Ekko had always been a little different. The way he saw the world wasn’t about appearances or surface-level stuff—it was about people, their hearts, and their actions. It wasn’t lost on him that you seemed to care a lot about how others perceived you, constantly stressing over what to wear, how to look, or whether you were keeping up with the trends. At first, he didn’t really understand it. Why would you care what other people thought when you were already so incredible in his eyes?

One evening, after working on his latest invention in the workshop, Ekko was looking forward to spending some quiet time with you. He’d been busy with the repairs and inventions for the underground, but when he finally entered the room, he immediately noticed something different about you. You were sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine, occasionally staring at the mirror, then back at the pages. The quiet tension in the air told him something was off.

He walked up to you and gently sat down next to you. "You okay?" he asked, his voice softer than usual. "You seem… distracted."

You looked up, surprised to see him. You hadn’t realized you were being so obvious about your self-doubt. "Oh, I’m fine," you lied, trying to smile. "Just… you know, trying to figure out what to wear tomorrow. Something that’ll make me look good enough for the crowd, y’know?"

Ekko frowned slightly. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes, the way your fingers were nervously flipping through pages. He didn’t need to be a genius to see that something was bothering you.

He leaned back against the couch, giving you a moment to breathe before speaking up again. “What crowd? I thought you were more about being yourself, not some image you’ve got to keep up with.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, well… sometimes it’s hard. I mean, look at everyone else, Ekko. They’re all perfect—well-dressed, confident, always looking like they’ve got it all figured out. I just… I don’t know. I want to feel good about myself, but it feels like I’m always falling short.”

Ekko let out a small sigh. He had seen you struggle with this before, but hearing it out loud always tugged at his heart. He knew what it was like to feel like you didn’t measure up, especially in a world that made it easy to compare yourself to everyone around you. But to him, you were already more than enough.

"You don’t need to be like anyone else, you know that, right?" Ekko said, his voice calm yet serious. "I get it, everyone around here seems to care about appearances or ‘keeping up with the Joneses,’ but that’s not what makes someone special. You’re already incredible. The real you—not some idealized version of yourself—is what I love."

He took your hand, gently guiding you to face him. "It’s not about looking like someone else. It’s about being you. And when you’re you, that’s when you shine the brightest. You’re unique, and that’s what makes you stand out. Not some perfect look or what other people think."

You felt a lump form in your throat, his words piercing through the insecurities that had been building inside. Ekko was always so patient with you, always grounding you when the chaos of the world started to feel too heavy. His belief in you, in who you were as a person, was unwavering.

"Ekko, I’m just so used to trying to fit in," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "It feels like everyone expects me to be perfect, to look a certain way."

Ekko shook his head, his hand moving to brush your hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and tender. "You don’t need to fit into anyone’s box. You fit into mine, and that’s all that matters. You’ve got something they don’t—your heart, your mind, your creativity. You’ve always had it, and I see it every single day."

He stood up, giving you a playful grin. "You know what’s really cool about you? You can pull off anything—whether it’s a fancy outfit or a worn-out hoodie. You make it look good because it’s you. And honestly, that’s way more impressive than anything I’ve ever seen."

You couldn’t help but laugh, a little of the weight lifting off your shoulders as you finally met his eyes. “You really think that?”

Ekko nodded, his eyes full of sincerity. "More than anything. I’m proud of you, just the way you are. You don’t need anyone’s approval, especially not when you’ve already got mine."

You stood up to face him, feeling the warmth of his words sink in. There was no need to change for the world. You had Ekko, and that was more than enough to make you feel seen and loved.

"I love you, you know that?" you whispered.

Ekko grinned, his eyes lighting up as he pulled you into a hug. "I love you too, more than you’ll ever know."

In his arms, you felt safe—safe to be yourself, flaws and all. Maybe it wasn’t about perfection after all. Maybe it was about finding the people who truly saw you, the real you, and loving you for exactly who you were.

---------------------------------------------------

Sevika.

The quiet buzz of the dimly lit workshop was disrupted by a small, sudden sigh. Sevika paused, her fingers lightly gripping the wrench she was working with as she looked over at you. You were at the far corner of the room, your attention focused on the full-length mirror. Your gaze was distant, eyes scanning every inch of yourself, your expression more tense than usual.

She could see the way your shoulders tensed, the slight frown on your lips, and she knew that look all too well. It was the look of someone caught in the trap of self-doubt, obsessing over things that didn't truly matter. Sevika, who always carried herself with quiet confidence, couldn't help but notice how much you seemed to care about things that didn’t define your worth—things like appearance, status, and the opinions of others.

Without saying a word, Sevika set her tools down and walked toward you, her large frame cutting through the space with the same assured steps she always had. There was something about your current mood that tugged at her, an instinct to take care of you when she saw you struggling.

She came up behind you, leaning her back against the wall and crossing her arms, just watching. There was no rush to intervene. Sevika had learned that sometimes, you needed time to process things on your own before anyone could help.

After a moment, you spoke without turning to face her. "Do you think they’d like me more if I looked different? I mean… everyone seems to have something special about them. What if I’m just… not good enough?"

The words hung in the air, fragile and raw. Sevika stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "Hey," she said, her hand resting on your shoulder, urging you to meet her eyes. "You’re not ‘just’ anything. And you’re not here to be ‘liked’ by anyone else but yourself."

You swallowed, still unable to fully meet her gaze. "I don’t know, Sevika. I just—sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, I can’t live up to… to what they expect, to what everyone else has. I don’t know how to be comfortable with myself."

Sevika’s eyes softened, her hand gently turning your chin so that you finally faced her. "You don’t need to worry about them. You don’t need to worry about being perfect, because there’s no such thing. No one is perfect—not even the ones who pretend they are."

Her voice was steady, filled with that unwavering confidence that made her so impossible to ignore. "You’re one of the strongest people I know, and that’s not something that comes from looking a certain way. It comes from what you’ve been through, how you keep going despite everything. That’s what I admire about you. Not how you look, but the person you are."

Your breath caught, the frustration in your chest softening with her words. For a moment, you let yourself believe her, feeling the weight of your insecurities ease just a little.

"I think you forget sometimes that people who truly care about you… the ones who matter, don’t give a damn about your looks," Sevika continued, her thumb lightly tracing your cheek, her touch gentle yet powerful. "You think I’m here because you’ve got the perfect image? Nah. I’m here because you’ve got heart. You’ve always had it."

A rare, soft smile tugged at her lips as she leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a near whisper. "And you think I’d let someone like you get away with being anything less than amazing?"

You chuckled softly, the tension melting away at the sincerity in her words. Sevika’s tough exterior had always been there, but in moments like this, she allowed her softer side to show, especially when it came to you. You could see in her eyes that she didn’t just mean what she was saying—she believed it wholeheartedly.

"Sevika, I—"

She cut you off, her finger lightly tapping your lips. "No more self-doubt. No more comparisons. You’re incredible. Just as you are."

For once, the mirror didn’t seem so important. It wasn’t about how others saw you, but how you saw yourself through her eyes. Sevika may not always say a lot, but in moments like this, her actions spoke volumes. You let yourself lean into her touch, the assurance in her presence becoming your anchor.

She leaned in close, her voice softer now, just for you. "Now, let’s forget about everyone else for a while, yeah? Tonight’s about you, about us. You don’t need to impress anyone but yourself."

And as you let her embrace you, a weight lifted, one you hadn’t even realized you were carrying.

--------------------------------------------------

Authors note: I really do apologize if this isn't to ur liking my darling or it feels repetitive I just really could not come up with different scenarios dear God I was about to crash out..

[sproouts-jpeg]

my second claim for the @sanjiartcollab !! outfit 345!!

i definitely took the concept and ran with it lol (like it’s def the same outfit but u can tell i had waaayyy too much fun with it xD)

closeups on my favorite details:

his entire head/face

i don’t know if it’s immediately obvious but i made his face and neck flushed as if he were a little embarrassed. i think it has a nice gradient :)

also very proud of the hair shape i came up with. i originally tried referencing a buuuunch of different artists i like, but coming up with my own style more directly based off the outfit ref worked a lot better

(btw i didn’t forget his pubestache i just don’t like drawing it lol)

the school bag keychains (there was gonna be a merry keychain too, but i wasn’t sure where to put it :/)

uniform id/nametag

not part of the actual outfit, but when i was looking for references for a gakuran jacket there were some with ids pinned to them, so i thought it’d be a good opportunity to add sanji’s official signature on it. which btw, how tf does one make a kiss mark done in pen??? does this guy just smudge ink on his lips???

furoshiki wrapped lunch box (sanji made pirate lunch boxes for everyone :D)

east blue crew!! they’re like cute lil stickers :] (def inspired by @michelmims ‘s art)

+ just sanji and the lineart!

the comic/lunchbox panels all have each character’s favorite food! (meat on a bone for luffy, fish and chips for usopp, seafood pasta for sanji, onigiri for zoro, and mixed fruits for nami)

also i would like to thank god himself, eiichiro oda, cause if i hadn’t studied his art so heavily in my last collab piece i wouldn’t have realized the power of halftones in shading! also also, watching op fan letter helped me figured out how to pick good shadow colors (basically; cool colored shadows on warm colors, and warm shadows on cool colors!) my shading’s not perfect but it’s definitely not flat anymore :D

is it obvious i really like this piece lol xD

AS ALWAYS PLEASE CHECK OUT THE COLLAB SERVER!! EVERYONES SO NICE AND COOL AND THERES GONNA BE NEW OUTFITS TO CLAIM IN JANUARY!!!

[crheativity]

Hello how have u been I was wondering if I can request a slightly part 2 of the reader making the overblot squad cute little plushies so wha if the reader makes the plushies clothing and accessories like for vil’s plushie little fake makeup and same clothing he has sorry if my English is bad I’m still learning

SUMMARY: You decide to make the Overblot Squad’s plushies clothes! How do they react?

WARNINGS: None that I am aware of!

COMMENTS: Oh my GOSH this is such a cute idea!! And no worries Anon, your English is just fine :D I hope you enjoy it!!

Part one - Prefect making the Overblot Squad plushies of their respective Seven member - can be found here. Part three - their reactions when the plushies are stolen - can be found here.

You made his plushie some… clothes? He didn’t even know you could remove her current ones! He would never think to try something so scandalous on his own! Especially not with a plushy of the Queen of Hearts!! Ah, wait- he meant no disrespect! He just meant that he wouldn’t- uh… He’s just gonna stop talking now.

You have to show him how to change his plushy’s clothes – he refuses to figure it out on his own in case someone walks in – but once you show him it’s not like that, he’s more comfortable with it. He doesn’t change things around a lot – maybe whenever you make him a new one. He keeps them all safely in a box under his bed. Occasionally, he’ll take them out just to look at. Seeing them always makes him smile.

You decided to make the powerful, feared and mighty King of Beasts… a hat? And slippers? Hah, you got guts, Prefect. He’s gotta say, he respects it. Alright, he’ll indulge you. He’s slightly surprised at how small yet detailed the accessories are. There’s something slightly endearing about such small clothes… maybe that’s one of the reasons why people like children? Tch. He can’t relate.

Nonetheless, it’s amusing to him what kind of accessories you think of. He’s also not the type to change up the doll’s outfit a whole lot, but he’ll stash them all around his room. Much like the toy, they all smell of you. It’s starting to annoy the other Beastmen. Ruggie’s strongly considering having an intervention.

Prefect… these are adorable! Are you sure you don’t want to sell these? Ah, r-right. Please forgive him for forgetting they were for-... for his eyes only. Please stop looking at him and let him regain his composure. He absolutely loves them! He hopes you know how much of a friend the doll has become to him. He’s starting to tear up, you’re so kind. Give him a minute.

Azul has designated different clothes for different purposes. Before bed, he puts his doll in her pajamas. When he wakes up, he selects her outfit for the day and changes her into it. He does this almost ritualistically every day. Floyd and Jade have teased him for it, but surprisingly, Azul doesn’t seem to mind.

Oh? You made his Sorcerer of the Sands doll some different outfits? Pft– that’s so cute. He didn’t mean to laugh at you – he’s delighted, really! He just… can’t believe that you’d spend precious free time doing something like that. Hey, come on, he’s not judging you or anything, but free time is precious, right? You should spend it more on doing what you want to do. Still, though, he loves the clothes - and finds your cute little pout adorable. 

He definitely keeps them with the doll. Whenever you make him new ones, he’ll pick up the doll and change the outfit. Otherwise, he’ll only change them a couple times every so often. This has given him an idea though. Maybe you’d like a doll too? Then you could match. Although, Ramshackle dorm doesn’t really have a mascot… maybe he could make you a ghost? Or a plushie of Grim? 

(Didn’t he say that spending ‘precious free time’ doing something like ‘that’ was wasted? Point it out to him and he’ll get flustered and walk off in a huff. He will return with a plush and an apology for you two days later. He enjoyed making it a lot.)

You made his doll clothes?! He’s trying not to squeal like a teenage girl. He didn’t know that his doll could change clothes!! Oh, prefect, he loves you so much. He’s going to ask you to make so many clothes, you better be prepared for what you’re getting into!

He, like Azul, changes the clothes all the time and will often just sit down for like an hour and change the doll into perfect outfits. As you could probably guess, Vil LOVES using the doll to try out new looks. Whenever he’s designing an outfit or a piece of clothing, he always asks you to make a small version for him to try out on the doll. This helps him to be able to practise styling them and getting an idea of how the finished piece would look. 

His favourite kind of outfit to ask for, however, is anything that reminds you of fashion from your homeworld.

You made his marketable plushie some marketable clothes?? Oh my gosh. That’s adorable. It’s so small! Looks like those itty bitty cutey kitty clothes– AH– ahem. you didn’t hear that. He definitely wasn’t just having a total fanboy moment. no siree… do you think you could make him an outfit from his favourite anime? that’d be cool, he guesses.

He’s DEFINITELY gonna make the little guy cosplay his favourite characters. Maybe that’d improve his gacha roles even more? Oh he is 100% down to help too. Any clothes that require metallic details he is WELDING that stuff together. It’s so cute how invested he gets in this. Ortho loves seeing his brother get so passionate about this too!

Malleus is DELIGHTED. He was not aware that his little friend could change outfits! How adorable! He loves you so much! He is this close to buying an actual, fully sized wardrobe just for them! …But Lilia talks him out of it. Actual, fully sized wardrobes take up a surprising amount of room. So, he ends up getting two, miniature wardrobes. Which fills about the same space. Lilia’s not sure his advice really worked.

Malleus will now dress up his dolls for tea parties, picnics, or whatever outings they decide to go on. He is constantly surprised and delighted by whatever you make him, although he’s not very good at suggesting ideas. One of the few ideas he came up with was fashionable about a hundred years ago and was a very complicated piece of clothing. However, when he received the outfit, he took great measure to ensure that no harm would ever come to it. 

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[desertteagles]

╰───► like it’s our last - e. williams

drabble.

Pairing - bbf!ellie x fem! reader

Synopsis- your brothers back from college and he brings his best friend since childhood back with him. you’ve realized you have a crush on her and sworn you wouldn’t act on it, fearing your brothers disapproval. ellie also has been harboring feelings for you but promised to not make a move per your brothers request.. especially since ellie’s kind of a player.

warnings- no smut this time </3 but little angst ig…, uhhhh idk i think that’s it.. was gonna make this a oneshot (that’s why the punctuation is sorta kinda good) but i decided NAWT to so here !

a/n well um… hi guys ! i’ve been gone for a year my bad chat 😞

U nfortunately, today was the fucking day. Now, usually, you’re happy whenever your brother decides to visit home, but this time he’s bringing an unwanted (very wanted) guest that you’ve been kind of avoiding, in order to not run your big ass mouth.

Ellie was annoying as fuck. That didn’t stop you from developing a crush on her, though, and you hated yourself for it. It was just... she’s so pretty with her stupid green eyes and veiny hands, and her pretty hair that’s always in that fuckass bun, and her... “Wait, what the fuck. Stop thinking about her, oh my god,” you groaned, putting your face in your hands. Unsurprisingly, you could never seem to keep her from getting stuck in your mind. It was a never-ending cycle of “I don’t even like her; she just has a nice face,” to “Why the fuck am I lying? I want her so bad,” battling it out in your head ever since you realized there might be something more than just annoyance toward her because she was your brother's best friend. Which also opens a whole new can of worms that you really don’t have the mental capacity to deal with.

You see, your brother is very, very, very overprotective. It was so bad that you couldn’t even bring up liking celebrities around him, which was absurd, so you had to tell him to back off (he never really did). Ellie, being the player that she is, definitely tried to get your brother's blessing to pursue you back in high school, but he naturally shot her down with a vicious and explicitly detailed description of how he’d kill her and hide the body if she ever tried anything with you, which effectively scared her from even looking at you for a while. Obviously, that didn’t last long because she became this annoying nuisance of a human being, and it ground your gears until she finally left for college with your brother, giving you a much-needed break.

the break didn’t last long because for some odd reason you thought it was the greatest fucking idea to stalk her social media. Granted, you did it out of hate (it wasn’t hate) so it’s really not your fault that seeing her posts made you start looking at her in a different light. But now she was back. And this time, you have this added knowledge that she’s hot as fuck and you don’t really think you will be able to function around her.

You paced around your room, hands in your hair, agonizing over what the fuck to wear ever since you learned Ellie was visiting with your brother today. It was like some kind of cosmic joke — the universe giving you just enough time to forget how much you liked her before slamming her right back into your life.

You could hear the muffled sound of your brother’s laugh from downstairs. Your stomach twisted, nerves kicking in. You peeked out of your bedroom window and, sure enough, there was Ellie, leaning against the car, hands shoved in her pockets, that fuckass bun sitting low on her head. She was talking to your brother, but you barely registered him — all you could focus on was her smirk, the way her eyes squinted when she laughed, how the light from the sun caught on her freckles. Now that made you make a face, “ew why the fuck am i thinking like a poet.”

“Gotdammit,” you muttered to yourself. “Get it the fuck together.”

Your heart was racing, but you couldn't tell if it was from excitement or dread. Maybe both…. definitely both.

A sharp knock on your door yanked you out of your thoughts, and before you could even answer, your brother barged in. “Hey, Ellie’s here,” he said, grinning like an idiot. “Come down and say hi, don’t be weird.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the weird one, you are. and plus i have to finish getting ready! i’ll be down in a second, get out!”

He rolled his eyes. “Just be normal for like five minutes, when you come down okay? I know you guys have this weird rivalry or whatever the fuck but its been like a year so please.”

“fine, but if she starts her shit don’t say anything.” you mumbled, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. “fuck me.” you sighed and turned to finish getting ready.

—

As soon as you hit the bottom step, Ellie’s eyes locked on yours. That familiar spark of mischief shined in her gaze. She tilted her head slightly, grinning in that infuriatingly, cocky way that always made your knees a littttle weak.

“Hey,” she said, her voice soft but teasing, as if she already knew the effect she had on you. Which she couldn’t know… right? Right.

You swallowed hard, trying to act unfazed. “Ellie.”

Her grin widened, and for a split second, you could’ve sworn she looked you up and down. Almost like she was checking you out. weird. “Long time no see,” she said, stepping forward and pulling you into a quick, unexpected hug.

Your brain short-circuited for a moment, and when she let go, you were left standing there, blinking like an idiot, your skin buzzing from where her hands had briefly touched your back.

“It’s barely been a year. but yeah, long time,” you managed, trying desperately to sound casual but instead sounding like a dying cat.

—

The next couple of hours were spent catching up and you watching ellie and your brother play Call of duty.. or was it fortnite? you can’t really remember. all you can seem to focus on is how ellie’s hands look around the controller and how good they’d look around your ne- “hey. are you.. okay?” you jumped a little at being pulled from your thoughts by ellie and slowly realized how long you were staring at her hands. “oh um yea.. totally,” you chuckled nervously and turned your attention back to the TV trying to ignore Ellie's burning gaze on the side of your face. Like usual, your brother was oblivious to anything but that damn game, trash talking like crazy, while you kept sneaking looks at Ellie after that embarrassing ass moment. She didn’t seem to mind though; in fact, she seemed to enjoy catching you staring. Every time you glanced her way, she was already looking, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

At one point, you found yourself in the kitchen, you were hungry as fuck and being a third wheel didn’t exactly curb your hunger. Unfortunately, Ellie walked in not too long after you, her presence immediately making the room feel smaller.

“So,” she said, dragging the o and leaning against the counter with that same smirk. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You froze, almost crushing a chip that was making its way into your mouth in your hand. “What!? No, I haven’t. You're actually delusional, I don't know.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Rightttt. I'm totally delusional.”

You turned to look at her, grabbing another chip out of the bag to eat before pausing and saying, “Okay, maybe I have. But it’s not purposefully !”

Ellie took a step closer, and you had to force yourself to keep breathing. “Oh really?”

“Yes really! I have literally no reason to avoid you. Don’t be dumb. i’ve just been busy with getting my esthetician license.. ” You bit your lip, trying and failing to seem calm. God, this was the exact situation you were trying to avoid. You wanted to tell her off, make her stop questioning you, but honestly… you kinda missed her (you’d never admit this out loud) and it was nice talking to her. Not to mention looking at her lips while she talked was one of your favorite pastimes.

Ellie took another step forward, so close now that you could smell her — that familiar mix of leather and something earthy. It was distracting as hell, and you loved hated it. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding in your chest.

“Busy with your esthetician license, huh?” Ellie’s voice was low, almost mocking, as if she knew how much of a lie that sounded like, even if it was mostly true. “that’s hilarious because you seemed to have plenty of time to stare at my hands earlier.”

Your face burned instantly. “I wasn’t staring,” you blurted, probably a little too fast.

Ellie’s smirk widened, her eyes flicking down to your hands fidgeting with the chip bag. “Sure you weren’t.” She was enjoying this way too much, but instead of leaving you to drown in embarrassment, she stepped even closer, her gaze suddenly more intense, less mocking. “You know, I don’t typically care if you stare.”

Your brain completely short-circuited. Was she for real? You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest as you decided it’s now or never and maybe it’s time to give her a taste of her own medicine.

You leaned in, your eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, the playful tension between you both shifted into something else — something heavier. “is that right?” you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur as you tucked a loose strand behind her ear with a smirk.

Ellie’s breath hitched and you saw a blush spread across her face like crazy. She was not expecting you to reciprocate her teasing. In fact, she thought you would get too flustered to even think. You giggled at her stunned face, body still alight with nerves and your mind screaming did i really just do that??? The room felt impossibly small, and you couldn’t focus on anything but how close she was. You could feel the heat radiating off her skin, the way her gaze flickered down to your lips for just a second before snapping back to your eyes.

“I—” you started, but before you could even finish, your brother’s voice cut through the tension like a knife, causing you to jump back from Ellie in surprise.

“Ellie, you better be keeping your hands to yourself…” he called from the living room, his tone half-joking but you could tell he wasn’t.

Ellie groaned in annoyance at the interruption. She raised her hand as if to hold yours but faltered at your confused expression, and dropped it with a sigh “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, her voice quieter now, as she turned toward the living room. “Jesus Christ.”

[bumblebeehug]

When do u think Natsu actually realized that he fell for Lucy and i know he treats her differently but can u give moments where it's initiated from his side?

This is going to be a long post so buckle up!

Okay, first of all: the Phantom Lord arc. Though I don't think he fell in love with her at that point of time, I think it was the events that seriously solidified his partialness to her. I'd go into detail but I can already feel a long post incoming, so I'll keep it short: Lucy telling Natsu that she loves being a Fairy Tail wizard, while crying over the fact that she didn't want to leave ↓

After just trusting her life in Natsu, jumping from an insanely high tower, with a mere belief that maybe she had heard him in the distance – I think it struck a chord with Natsu. Like, it would be normal to cry after a fall like that, but Lucy wasn't concerned about that aspect. Her head and heart was all about the guild, how she didn't want to go, and that resonates with Natsu. Natsu's entire life at that point is 1) Finding Igneel, and 2) being with/protecting the guild.

Then I'd say it's a pretty gradual build in their relationship. They go on a lot of missions, hang out together, and just in general spend a lot of time connecting. There's some Natsu-saves-Lucy, some Lucy-saves-Natsu, some hand holding (tenrou arc I won't forget about that, thank you anime team for adding that scene), and then comes the next pivotal moment. GMG arc and the dragon festival that follows.

By then I'd say Natsu and Lucy are very much in this friends-with-emotional-benefit zone: much more than friends, absolutely not yet lovers. But with Lucy's near-death experiences in her battles, Natsu has to refrain himself from getting involved each time Lucy gets beaten up - he becomes helpless, and the worry that's sowed inside of him gets watered each time Lucy still puts his faith in him, still trusts him to come out a winner. That entire section when Lucy's in the infirmary and she tells Natsu that her entire being trusts that Natsu can do anything, I think that's when Natsu falls in love.

Now wait!! He still doesn't quite understand that he loves her. But he understands that his feelings for Lucy are more tender than any other feelings he's ever had. He treasures her in a new, heavier way. She's become precious to him.

Precious. Where have we heard that... oh >:) ↓

Now the Dragon Festival was LETHAL in a trillion ways, but especially for nalu fans. The whole Future Lucy plot and the forehead touches and the Future Natsu and Future Lucy fighting in a wasteland moments and the Natsu skipping the final GMG match to save Lucy. And of course. Future Lucy dying. It's not the first time we see Natsu get so heavily affected - it happened in the tower of heaven, when Erza was ready to give her life up. But it is the first time we see Natsu see a friend die. Like, a team mate, someone who he's responsible for bringing to the guild. And after the whole GMG conundrum? Had a single more bad thing happened Lucy during the dragon festival, he’d probably turn into a demon right there and then. Dare I even say: their relationship was the strongest at this point in time.

After the GMG and the Dragon Festival, we get the Sun Village arc (I don’t like the Eclipse celestial spirit arc so I’m not counting it, same with Key of the Starry Sky arc — technically some nalu moments but not exactly building imo) and then another big one: Tartaros. Ooooh brother, THE best arc of all times, wish Mashima knew how to replicate it. But alas, he doesn’t.

The Tartaros arc isn’t exactly a pivotal moment where Natsu “falls in love” but rather an important aspect to understand his later actions. Like this guy goes through some pretty grusome stuff, learns a lot of complicated, bad things about himself, and finishes off the arc with losing Igneel — his father that he's spent ages searching for. Natsu's entire life is turned upside down, so he decides that he has to become stronger: cue, he heads off for a year to train.

His time away isn't very elaborated on — not from Natsu's viewpoint or Lucy's. But I think it's understood that he chose not to bring along Lucy because she could be put into danger too much for him to be able to concentrate on building his strength: he knew his training would be dangerous. During this time we also have the Gildarts-scene in chapter (idk i can't be bothered to look it up but y'all know the one ↓) which is kinda debated on — who was Natsu talking about here?

I'm still not certain on if it was a heart to heart on the Igneel-matter, or if it was about his guilt of leaving Lucy behind, like many theorise. I'm not even certain that it's limited to one of them — he could be talking about both. But at the very least, this entire year was one of those "distance makes the heart grow fonder" moments for him. He wanted to get back to his normal life with Lucy so bad. After all, it wasn't like him showing up at the GMG was in order to meet Lucy — had he wanted more training after that, he'd head off again, but I don't think he could physically bring himself to do it, even if it hadn't turned out that the guild had disbanded. Though that's just me speculating a bit.

And about the guild disbandment: oh jolly, he was not happy. He had finally taken the step to grow stronger to protect everyone in his beloved guild, and here Makarov went and disbanded it? Leaving Lucy completely alone? Lucy, who once jumped from a hella high tower because she was just so devoted to stay in the Fairy Tail guild? Yeah, I think that broke him a little. At this point there was just so much guilt involved around his whole relationship with Lucy, because now he had put her through so much pain only because he brought her to Fairy Tail that day in Hargeon.

The next arcs I'd say Natsu's trying to spend his time redeeming himself for the countless things he's done bad (getting the guild back together, just generally staying by Lucy's side as much as possible). And naturally he keeps getting hit by challenge after challenge (it's not easy to be a book written by his immortal brother, yk?). And it's even harder to watch Lucy die again, this time for real (he thinks bc he's stupid and also has a tumour that's nothing less than a ticking bomb) (give this guy a break lol).

Anyways: Lucy's death nr2. Natsu can't live a life without her. Now I know — he still doesn't quite understand that it's romantic love, but I think he does understand that it's pure love. No matter if kissing and reproducing was involved, all he knew was that a life without Lucy is completely unimaginable, so blinded by rage he becomes and decides to decapitate everyone in his way (sorry about that Gray).

The last couple of moments I'll go out of my way to mention as signs of love is 1. when he's won over Acnologia and falls towards Lucy, crazy relieved, saying "I'm home", 2. Gajeel pointing out Natsu's crush on Anna, Natsu basically saying "oh that's why I like Lucy so much" (I embellished it lol) and 3. "We're still gonna be together from here on out, right?" yeah that man won't ever leave her. Ever. It's just not an option.

Now since I've only talked about specific moments, here's what I have to say about his relationship with her in general:

Throughout the main plot line, we also see a shift in Natsu's behaviour. Someone here on Tumblr pointed out that Natsu always finds a way to shield Lucy if something unexpected happens, after not being able to shield her from Future Rogue. There's also the small detail of the order he calls out to people - it goes from being pretty random, to Lucy almost alwyas being on the top of the list: likely because she's always on the top of his head. And in general I'd say that Natsu initiates (i'm adding this entire paragraph bc i realised that you asked about when Natsu initiated stuff, more than when he fell in love lol) almost all of their interractions. It's Natsu who wants Lucy to join Fairy Tail, to form a team, he's the one who enters her apartment constantly, he's always searching her out - his interest in her is at a constant high so we never feel like we get "moments" that he's paying her extra attention. He has one setting, and it's "Lucy" cranked to the max. Lol.

I could also add some HYQ moments to the mix here, but they've been few and far inbetween, and also mostly played off as jokes, so I can't really consider them as moments when Natsu initiates his love. I guess his jealousy can be considered a sign? And when (spoilers from the manga) he runs around to protect her/save her from creepy-freaky-jail (the only one who made it freaky was him, with those wild fantasies lol). Maybe I need to jog my memory a bit, but so far there hasn't been any non-pervy nalu moments initiated by Natsu in the HYQ, aside from jealousy-chap. Sadly.

Hope this gave you the answer you were hoping for! Sorry it took so long, I started writing on it and realised it would be a bible so I put it in my drafts to fetch some pics to make it less wordy, and then I forgot about it, lol. But here it is!

[demigoddessqueens]

Lucifer SFW

Just some A-Z SFW for the occasional adorkable King of Hell

Here on masterlist 10

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Super affectionate!! Peppers you with kisses and everything

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Chances are Luci would meet you if he’s ever visiting Charlie at the new hotel and sees you as one of the sinners living there

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He’s the cuddle bug master, just holding onto you like glue

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I’d imagine as King of Hell has others for domestic tasks, but he enjoys the domestic life and wants that peace and love with it

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Oh he will NOT be handling breaking up well AT ALL 💔 like we’re talking tears and asking “did I do something wrong?”

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Man’s still wears his wedding ring after a seven years divorce/separation, he makes good on his commitments

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Very gentle and loving, there’s an air of love to his aura around you.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Those anaconda squeeze type of hugs and burying his head in your neck/hair.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Oh he wants to say it first so bad, but it all depends on when and how YOU want to say it, and Luci respects that

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Short fuse jealousy! Anyone so much as looks at you if you’re together and they’re getting smoted

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Passionate, deep kisses or quick little pecks

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Has a bit of an awkward charm to him that may be hit or miss with some kids

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings are total “let’s just lounge in bed” all day type of thing

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are intimate and sweet, spending time together over a glass of wine

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I’d feel Luci would open up faster to you than you would, part of his loneliness, but he respects your boundaries

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’ll only be “angry” if someone tries to pull anything with you, but has considerable patience with you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Luci can rattle off facts about you like it’s nobody business, just speaking about you adorably and what he loves about you

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you said “i love you” to him, he said it first a while back in the early stage

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Given how he is with Charlie, you are also important and incredibly precious to him and wants to protect you

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

You’re getting the full Royal Treatment from him. Gifts, candies, conjured flowers and trinkets and whatnot

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Maybe being a bit overly jealous or possessive of someone

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Well he is in charge of the Ring of Pride so he has to look good, especially if you’re coming over

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

In a way, yes. Lonely and a bit like “do you not like me anymore?”

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

If you’re a cooking type, I’d imagine Luci has a bit of a sweet tooth and loves all your baked goods

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Maybe like an overly nonchalant person or one who doesn’t communicate or open up themselves as he does

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Sleep starts off with cuddles, maybe some spooning, you as the big spoon most of the time

[stormyelliotwritez]

SFW ALPHABET FOR LOGAN HOWLETT

with male or gn reader ofc

A = Affection: hes not too affectionate but he’ll stroke your hair and purr when you snuggle up against him

B = Best friend: he would be a good best friend who would care a lot and you’d probably become best friends by getting into a fight

C = Cuddles: he loves to cuddle but he won’t say so

D = Domestic: he wants to settle down but it feels weird whenever he tries to and he can cook reasonably and clean okay

E = Ending: he’d make them mad so theyd leave

F = Fiance(e): it would take him a lot of convincing that you actually love him and want to marry him

G = Gentle: he can be gentle if he’s trying very hard though on a normal day, he’s quite rough but he means well

H = Hugs: he’s great at hugs and theyre normally bone-crushing hugs

I = I love you: he thinks it and mumbles it but won’t actually say it until you do

J = Jealousy: he gets very jealous and will fight people who look at you wrong

K = Kisses: he kisses you all over and won’t stop until you ask him too and he loves when you kiss him on his cheeks and also on his chest

L = Little ones: he doesn’t seem to like kids but he’s good with them and he loves making them laugh but he’s scared to have his own

M = Morning: he wakes up earlier than you and gets up and reads the newspaper and when you get up, he makes you a coffee or tea and pulls you onto his lap

N = Night: after having dinner, he’ll help you get ready for bed if you’d like and you both lay in bed, eiher watching tv or reading and just relaxing in each others company

O = Open: he’s very reserved and he reveals things slowly so he’d say things randomly and not wish to elaborate on them unless you insisted

P = Patience: he’s not too patient and he gets angry quickly but he tries to calm down so as to not scare you off

Q = Quizzes: he remembers lots of obscure details about you such as how you take your coffee or what your favourite band is but he’ll forget your birthday sometimes

R = Remember: he loves remembering when you two met and how handsome you looked and how he was obsessed with you the minute he saw you

S = Security: he loves to protect you and he’ll do so by making you stay home when he’s worried and making you stand behind him and hold his hand and almost always be holding onto him. he doesn’t want you to have to protect him but it makes him happy when you stand up for him

T = Try: he doesn’t put much effort into many events because it scares him to be that committed but he’ll get flowers and buy you dinner and make sure you know he cares

U = Ugly: he smokes, he drinks and he doesn’t want to stop because it helps fill a hole inside of him

V = Vanity: he’s not but he doesn’t like having a scraggly beard so he shaves it down every so often

W = Whole: yes but he’d probably get so drunk that he wouldn’t notice

X = Xtra: he loves to be around you and it might drive you a little insane but its how he shows he cares

Y = Yuck: he doesn’t like people with bad hygiene or who get argumentative for no reason or who complain about everything

Z = Zzz: he’s always the big spoon and he loves to wrap his arms and legs around you and he purrs in his sleep

[literatureloverx]

Hi hru ? Just wanted to share with u my random thoughts because i actually saw two white swans and it just reminded me of ur writing and sjbdbxjdjxjxnx ur blog is just Amazing ✨

Tbh i check it almost everyday when i used to not log into Tumblr for WEEKS 🤭. Tho i hope u take care of urself and don't feel obligated to put out content when u don't feel like even if poeple (like me) enjoy ur blog 🙏

With love ♥️

Ahhh, Mel!!! I love you so much! ♥️

I’ve been doing just fine—how about you? It makes me so happy that you're associating swans with my work because I truly love them so much.

Here’s a small gift for you:

BSD Men with a Darling Who Writes NSFW Content

Alternative title: BSD MEN on crack.

Very short (like Chuuya).

Enjoy.♥️

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Would either lose interest in you or punish you for being such a "sinful babygirl"—you need to remember your place.

“My dear, such depravity in your words... Shall I show you the true price of your indulgence?”

Dazai Osamu

Would eagerly try to reenact your scenes, but with his own twist—expect things to get even more outrageous.

"Oh? What a deliciously wicked mind you have, bella.~ I think I can make this even more interesting. Let's see if reality can surpass fiction, shall we?"

Nakahara Chuuya

Would blush furiously and try to forget what he just read, but would fail epically.

"Damn it! Why can't I stop thinking about this?!"

Nikolai Gogol

Would meticulously recreate your writing, down to the last detail, because this man is all about living life for the plot.

"Ah, such a vivid imagination! Now, I have a quiz for you! What am I going to doooo?~ Yes indeedy! You guessed correctly! Let’s bring every tantalizing detail to life—after all, the story isn’t complete until it’s lived! Am I not right, dove?"

HAVE A NICE DAY / NIGHT!♥️

[luveline]

Jade! I was re reading your zombie au steve fics and I just love our bestie eddie and jealous steve in tbem so much:’) I would love to see more of their relationship love you!!!

love u ♡ steve zombie au. fem!reader

“Would you mind fucking off?” Steve asks. 

Eddie tsks under his breath, “You know, this whole jealousy thing you have over me is kind of sexist.” 

Steve could melt metal with the way he's feeling. “It's not sexism, I'm not jealous, and if I were, it wouldn't be over you, it would be of you.” 

Eddie grins. “That's all you had to say, baby.” 

You laugh but quickly stop, eyes darting to Steve's as you push Eddie away from you. It honestly makes it worse, not because you aren't allowed to sit with your (Steve shudders) friend, and not because it doesn't feel good to see you so quick to remove Eddie from your side, but because by doing so, you've proven to Steve that you are, in fact, aware of his jealousy. 

“I'm not jealous!” Steve lies. 

“And I'm not interested,” you say quickly. “Sorry.” 

Eddie shrugs and sits right back next to you in the grass. He kind of has to, considering the knot he's trying to teach you to tie needs demonstration, but still. Steve hopes he ties the knot around one of his fingers and needs an emergency amputation. 

“Jealousy is a horrible thing,” Eddie says, almost like he can hear Steve's thoughts. “Have you considered finding a friend for Y/N to be jealous of?” 

“I already did that for a bit,” you say, squinting at the shoelace in your hand unhappily, “but then she made me cry and Steve bought me cherries and I didn't worry about it again.” Ah, Vanessa. Old camp, old friend, you told Steve she was making fun of you and he never looked her in the eye again. 

He'd quite like it if you followed his lead, but Vanessa was a bully, and Eddie, to Steve's dismay, is a good friend. 

“So what I'm hearing,” Eddie says, his grin audible, “is I get to make Steve cry.” 

“Are you gonna–?” Steve asks you. 

You sigh and shove Eddie away again. He actually pretends to fall onto his side in the grass. “This is really impeding my progress in becoming a knot tying expert, Stevie. Are you sure we can't kiss and have you get over it?” 

Steve is jealous, but lots of the outward symptoms he shows are either from a want to be immature or just to make you laugh. He trusts you completely and doesn't think for a moment you'd ever, ever cheat. He even knows —deep down— that Eddie's a good guy who'd never do that to him. But it still rubs Steve just the tiniest bit the wrong way when he sees Eddie's pinkie finger brush yours as he corrects you, or your stupid matching coats. 

You and Steve used to have matching coats until your sleeve tore on a branch. Steve decides he has a vendetta against trees, and then he takes a few calming breaths. 

“How would us kissing help Steve get over it?”

“Not you!” you laugh. 

Steve loves the sound so much he pretty much forgets what he's annoyed about. “Sound more disgusted,” he encourages cheerily. 

“I'd never kiss him,” you say, tying the string around your two fingers and pulling the aglet through the loop you've made. Your wrinkled nose smooths as you check your knot against Eddie's, and then, in one of your cutest moments to date, you gasp and turn straight to Steve. “I did it!” 

“What was I impeding again?” he asks. 

You push your foot out with your over complicatedly tied laces and turn onto your thigh. He's a genius (he knows you better than he knows anyone, past or present, knows you better than he knows himself), anticipating your movement with his arm already out to welcome you for a victory hug. “Our laces will never need tying again,” you say.

“Except when you need to change your socks,” Eddie says.

Steve puts his middle finger up behind your back, nosing at your forehead. “You're amazing.” 

You really want the hug. Your hands meet behind his back and your lips brush his throat as you press in close, his lovely girl; you don't know how lovely you are, how the exact details of your hug play out in his mind frame by frame. He's made a million mistakes and he still gets to have you. 

You hug him and it's like the end of the world didn't happen. 

Eddie scratches his scalp. “Harrington, not that I think you'd be into this, but I've been tying that knot for the last year, and nobody ever kissed me for it.” 

“He hasn't kissed me,” you say. 

“Don't stomp on a downed man,” Eddie says severely. Then, sweeter, “Just a quick one, Stevie.” 

“A whole camp of people,” Steve says to you. “Any best friend you want. Hell, I'll share Robin.” 

“You do share Robin,” you say, languishing in his hug much longer than he was expecting you to, your arms having curled tighter now around him with no signs of letting go. 

Eddie Munson might have a crush on you. He might have a crush on Steve, too, or neither of you. The boy’s too jovial to tell. Steve will sleep better at night if he believes the latter though, so he marks the hug for your achievement with a kiss pressed softly to your forehead and decides for the hundredth time since you came here that he won't be jealous anymore. He has nothing to be scared of and he knows that, so why give Eddie a hard time.

Eddie smirks and closes his eyes. “M'waiting.” 

Steve puts his arm over your shoulder. “And you'll wait more.” He turns to you, murmurs, “How about we go and find you something sweet?” 

Eddie's lips part in disgust. “What kind of dirty talk is that?” 

You stand and kick Eddie without force in the thigh. “Thank you for teaching me, Eddie. Same time tomorrow?” 

Eddie drops his theatrics. “Sure. Let's do the next one Risky Business style.” 

You pull Steve away by the hand. He thinks you sorta like that he's jealous, being the object of his attention and affection at all, so he says, “If you leave me for him I'm gonna let a bachelor take me out, and not for dinner.” 

“A bachelor couldn't get its teeth through all this muscle,” you say, squeezing his arm.

Doesn't make a lick of sense, geeks only have to break the skin to get you, but it doesn't matter. “I love you,” he says happily. 

You lean into his side heavily as you walk. “I love you, too. More, for sure.” 

“Not a chance.” 

[fr4ncehere]

bf!youngjae headcanons 🙏🏽🙏🏽

pairing: bf!youngjae x fem!reader

genre: headcanon, fluff

a/n: i'm so happy that this is the first request, thank u sm for requesting anonn🥺 i want to remind you this is my first headcanon and my mother tongue isn't english so sorry for any mistakes

i hope u enjoy~!

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

first of all, youngjae's love language is acts of service. that's a fact.

youngjae is the mother of tws. so if he is already careful with the members, imagine how he is with his girlfriend!

he takes cares of you like a flower (you're his flower.

he would spend all his money on food for you, after all, he just wants to see you well… and fed.

and why not spend that money on snacks like he already does?

i can perfectly imagine him sending messages to you like:

"babe, i just left the hybe building and i'm at the convenience store now"

"and look what i found"

*pic of a snack*

"What flavor do you want this time?

*pic of holding MANY of the same snacks in DIFFERENT flavors*

y/n: "youngjae my love but yesterday you bought 7 packs of these for me, still have them here at home, you don't need to buy anything for me, angel…"

"ARE YOU GOING TO COMPLAIN ABOUT THE FOOD THAT I'M BUYING TO YOU AGAIN? >:("

he makes a point of talking and acting in front of the other members that you are the only person who he shares his snacks with

and shares it with you in front of jihoon just to tease him LOLLL

you don't even need to ask or request youngjae

"honey, did you see that there are snacks in my bag, right?"

"did you eat anything, babe? what? why didn't you grab the ones in my bag? i told you…" he says this holding your face gently :((

youngjae being youngjae is not a fan of physical touch, but when you least expect it there is a koala stuck to your body

the same goes for his unexpected little kisses on your cheek~

just like your hugs, it has become something normal

when you're studying and out of the blue there are arms around you and a long kiss on your cheek

he says something like "my girl" or "i'm proud of you" and then he leaves like nothing happened

or when you're on your cellphone, or sitting on the couch, or in public… (i'm telling you, he acts like this OUTTA THE BLUE

he also likes to put your foreheads together and look into your eyes or just bring your faces closer with that puppy eyes and smile that only he has and then… mwah!!! a kiss!

you already have such a close relationship with him (and so funny) that you come home telling him EVERYTHING that happened during your day AND IN DETAIL as if he is your gossip friend

when you least expect it, you told him LITERALLY EVERYTHING that happened in your day and you didn't even notice.

all the gossip, all the joys of the day, all the frustrations....

and he listened to everything while sitting still in front of you🥹 (guys this boy simply doesn't exist, seriously.

you know, just this boy's company is the cure for anything...

literally like a puppy, just being around makes you feel good

being around youngjae is like feeling at home

he is your home. he is your daily comfort.

days when you are tired or sad, you don't need to say anything and he is already there, hugging you, whispering words of comfort...

his advice makes seem like your problems and messes are simply nothing

AND YOU CAN'T UNDERSTAND HOW, LIKE, HE IS AN ANGEL? EVEN HIS VOICE SOUNDS LIKE ONE SO---

and your personality? oh god...

this boy is so calm, how can he be so patient with you?

and you don't need to say nothing. he knows how you are feeling just looking into your eyes, or just looking at your actions.

and if he needs to sing or whisper a song in your ear to make you feel better, he would make sure to do it with a 5 minute song for you

because you know, he just wants to see you well, his only pleasure is to see you happy.

depending on the situation, he puts post-its on your things with motivational phrases and phrases for you don't forget how much he loves you hdjsbxkbs <//3

you wouldn't understand how silly he gets when he sees you smiling for something he did (he feels so proud of himself

or when you run to him looking for his hug and he plays with it running away from you

at these times, youngjae's stomach only has butterflies and that's it!

when he thinks you feel good about his actions it only makes him even more silly

and then he forgets he was playing with you and hugs you tightly

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

[uponawhitehorse13]

Saber SFW alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

She gets very flustered by affection unless she doesn’t realise something is affectionate. Like she will be completely straight-faced wiping crumbs off your face or carrying you to bed after you fell asleep only to turn into a blushing mess of excuses when someone points it out.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You’re either her master or friends with her master (or maybe she’s your master >:) ). Other than that she’s a very loyal friend.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Very protective big spoon.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

While I don't think she’d be against settling down I doubt she’s good at either cooking or cleaning due to being a king and probably being used to things like that being taken care of by servants.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Very swift. A simple and elegant rejection of further advances.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

She’d be very happy but only if she proposed. If you proposed she’d be angry about how it’s the king’s duty to propose.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Incredibly gentle due to her immense strength. Like she’s genuinely scared of hurting you sometimes.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Always ready to hug you. If you jumped at her while she’s carrying something she’d drop it just to catch you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

She’s very hesitant to say it but when she does you know she means it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

While she does trust you if she sees someone flirting with you she immediately considers it a challenge. If they think they are better for you than her, surely they can beat her in a contest.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Kisses always make her blush very hard. But she does love giving you one when parting ways. Almost like a little promise that you’ll meet again.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

She’d be a very good mom. Would give it her all.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

After dinner she makes you go to bed. She doesn’t let you stay up late so you have energy for tomorrow.

O = Open  (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say  everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Slow about revealing things. It’s very much about building up trust.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Very patient but she will lash out if you really make her angry.

Q = Quizzes  (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little  detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

She’s good about remembering things but not extraordinary.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

It wouldn’t be the moment she fell for you but the moment she accepted it. When she stopped holding back and finally let herself be nothing more than a girl in love.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Insanely protective. She’d very literally die for you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

She tries very hard to plan out perfect dates but if anything goes wrong she’ll immediately get very apologetic even if it wasn’t her fault. You’ll need to comfort her about her not needing to worry that much about “her duty as a girlfriend” as she puts it.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Overburdens herself with a lot of stuff at once. You will need to remind her to take a break.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Due to her royal status she was always kind of forced into either ornate clothes or armour but if it were a question of personal taste I think she’d prefer simple clothes. Just plain and non-extravagant stuff.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

If she got far enough to accept her feelings she’d be devastated by losing you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

There’s an unshakable feeling in my bones that Saber would game. She would enjoy gaming. I feel it.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Lack of discipline or seriousness. She will beat some sense into you if it’s needed.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

She probably has a plushie she squeezes the life out of while she sleeps. Unless she’s sleeping with you of course.

Author's note: There's a small chance of this post getting heavily edited or even deleted if my headcanons change too much as I get more familiar with Fate but I doubt that'll happen as I'm very satisfied with them even after reading the wiki. Also big thanks to @shikiii-skadi for fact checking.