#i might i have blind spots i don't realize and i do make mistakes

[dresshistorynerd]

My favourite podcast Behind the Bastards unfortunately made a two-parter of Beau Brummel. Unfortunately because while the host Robert Evans is usually very good at researching history even though he is not a historian but a journalist, he has in previous episodes misunderstood dress history in very typical ways. I don't really blame him, since most historians not specialized in dress history also make these very basic mistakes, but for personal reasons (ADHD) it's just intolerable to me. The name of the episode is "Beau Brummell: The First Celebrity and Inventor of the Suit and Tie" so I was immediately assuming the worst takes. Then I checked the sources and it's bad guys, it's real bad.

Beau Brummell was a 19th-century fashion icon for men (archive.is) "Beau" Brummell, the Dandy Who Invented Men’s Suits (aristocracy.london) Beau Brummell Wasn’t a Hero of Modern Men’s Fashion. He Was a Villain. A Boring, Uptight Villain. (esquire.com) https://reginajeffers.blog/2022/07/18/purchasing-commissions-during-the-napoleonic-wars/ A Revolution in Masculine Style: How Beau Brummell Changed Jane Austen’s World » JASNA Beau Brummell: The Most Stylish History Maker – Never Was (neverwasmag.com) Man of the Cloth - The New York Times (nytimes.com) Blog | Regency History https://www.amazon.com/dp/1416584587?psc=1&language=en_US

So all but one are magazine articles or blog posts. The only book is by a fiction and biography writer, who is not a historian, definitely not a dress historian. The only writer of any of these sources that has any related credentials is one of the writers of that JASNA article and he is an art historian specialized in Byzantium, he's other specialty seems to be Jane Austen. In addition that esquire article is one of the worst perpetrators of these Beau Brummel myths. It's so disappointing because while his sources are not usually academic level, they are usually of good quality and he does usually practice critical assessment of his sources. Like I just wish people would cite actual dress historians in these matters and not random historians who actually know nothing about dress history because it's such an underappreciated field even inside academia. Or worse the god damn esquire or random blogs.

Obviously I can't listen to the episodes because three hours of dress history misinformation might just kill me. I will entertain a slight change I'm wrong about the episode, but where would he get high quality info if all his sources are garbage? So I'm reblogging this post now to even slightly balance the misinformation that will now spread even further to new audiences.

This just might be my 9/11.

https://www.tumblr.com/thebaconsandwichofregret/189924928150/comepraisetheinfanta-thebaconsandwichofregret

whenever i see people rbing the op without the additions i die a little inside so i thought you should have a go at debunking it 🫠

So these are the tweets from the post. I had blissfully not come across it before. This is one of the weirdest takes I have ever seen. It's amazing to see these fashion history takes that are so boldly and confidently wrong and inaccurate.

It's honestly hilariously ignorant to think that a massive cultural and societal shift that took couple of centuries was all because of one guy. It's so reductive and even goes to the great man territory to pick one person to blame for something like this that really had much more broad and complex reasons than "a guy did it". It's stressed in this tread that Beau Brummell was not noble or gentry and "just some guy", so how would he single-handedly change the fashions and concept of masculinity of the whole western world? He was a London socialite, it's not like most of his contemporaries in continental Europe knew about him. Like maybe the French, but does anyone really believe people in Eastern-Europe or Nordic countries or the Mediterranean knew about? Not to mention places like US. Yet everyone dressed like that in his lifetime, so how could his influence reach so far so quickly? Not even kings and queens could so directly and massively shift the fashions. So in the face of it the whole claim is ridiculous, but it's also full of inaccuracies.

The shift from Rococo fashion to regency fashion was extremely stark and quick in both men and women's fashion, but it happened during 1780s and 1790s, before Beau Brummell became a well known figure in the London society (he was born in 1778 and became well-known in the society after his military career, during which he befriended the Prince of Wales, around the end of 1790s). Here's first an example from 1780s and then from 1793-94 and 1797.

The one from 1780s still has some Rococo elements like the wig, but it's already much more toned down and the coat is already turning from frock coat to a tail coat. It's an example of the more casual men's countryside dress from the period. The court dress was still quite elaborate, though also toned down from the 1770s. But there's a big shift when it comes to the examples from 1790s. They are unmistakably Regency fashion. All of these example are French too. I'm sure these people had no idea and gained no influence from an unknown middle class English officer. So what did actually happen? Well, I'm pretty sure the French Revolution in 1789 had a little bigger impact on the European society and fashion than Beau Brummell.

I'm not going to go too deep into this, since I'm working on an in depth post about the masculinity and fashion in the modern era and I go into detail about how the French Revolution had a massive part in shaping them. But the short version is that the French revolutionaries rejected the elaborate fashions of the Rococo French nobility (in both men and women's fashion) as those over the top fashions stood as symbols of the excess wealth of the nobility and the extreme wealth gap. This is also why the high fashion was getting toned down thorough the 1780s before the Revolution. The anger towards the ruling class was mounting at the time and it encouraged the nobility to try to act a little more palatable in their aesthetics to maybe appease the angry people without doing any actual change to address the wealth gap and the centralization of power.

The revolutionaries looked for ideal masculinity and femininity elsewhere then. To contrast themselves against the ruling class, they looked to the antiquity and it's simplicity as well as the peasantry and the country gentleman fashion. Romanticism was the driving force behind the artistic expression of the Revolution. It weaved nationalism to the class struggle that was at the core of the revolutionary movement. So the Revolution was not just the working class and peasantry against the ruling class, but the French People against the nobility. That's how the bourgeois was able to align themselves with the working class and peasants. This is when physical labour, militarism, dominance and leadership really became intrinsically attached to masculinity, as the ideal man of the revolutionaries was a working peasant, who with military might took the the power back to the people from the nobility. The democracy would not last long, but it's not a mistake that only men could vote under the new democracy after the Revolution was won. It's also not a mistake that even when the post-Revolution France eventually abolished slavery (but not without some push-back first and a couple of slave revolts to force their hands) they didn't give most people of color rights to vote. Since colonialism whiteness had become intrinsic part of masculinity and femininity to dehumanize everyone else, and the new form of masculinity and femininity born out of the Revolution did not contest that. In fact the Enlightenment philosophy that had laid the ground work for the Revolution and the Romantic movement and it's nationalism that were driving force in it, in no way contested colonialism or it's white supremacy. In fact Enlightenment aimed to rationalize those things. Which is why the power in the new democracy went to the (mostly) white men.

These elements were in the new men's fashion too. Nationalism, the idealization of militarism, romanticization of peasantry and antiquity were basis of the fashion. Because antiquity was seen as the origins of democracy and the so called Western Civilization, that made it, and especially Antique Rome with it's militaristic connotations, perfect inspiration for the Revolutionary France. The short hairstyle was inspired from the Roman fashion seen in statues. The fashionable tail coat was influenced by military uniforms and the short jackets of the working class. The long trousers also came from working class dress. Here's examples of the revolutionary fashion of commoners, first from 1792 and then around 1790.

To be very clear, the revolutionaries were not a single entity with single ideology. They were collection of movements, who were united in their shared desire to overthrow the ruling class and establish some sort of democracy. But inside the movement were much more radical factions than what eventually ended in power after the French nobility. Socialists, abolitionists, feminists, slaves and others also fought for the Revolution and there was a lot of internal struggle too. Romantic movement was also very varied and contained extremely nationalistic elements as well as outright socialist elements.

It's important to note that the 18th century Rococo fashion was never as extreme elsewhere in the world as it was in France, so the change from Rococo to Regency style wasn't as stark elsewhere. If you put the most elaborate French court fashions of mid 1700s and Beau Brummell's style next to each other the difference is certainly massive, but fashion for men as well as women was through 18th century much more restrained and somber in England. Here's an English example from 1755-65 and for comparison a French example from 1755.

In fact as the tensions were rising in France the upper class begun to adopt the more toned down English styles. After the Revolution the new Republican styles would spread to Britain too. In Britain though Romanticism had a more pronounced effect as it stayed firmly monarchist. Therefore the English fashion was especially influenced by the styles worn by country side gentlemen.

There's another claim in the thread that fully fails to understand the broad implications of fashion and societal gender and how these things change and evolve. It's the claim that Beau Brummell created the modern men's suit and he's the reason the suit has long trousers. We already went through how long trousers initially got into men's fashion and it was not him. But the writer is not wrong in saying that Beau Brummell's outfit in this picture is a direct ancestor of modern men's suit. It is.

But you know what else is a direct ancestor of men's suit? This.

The modern three piece suit has it roots as far as in late 17th century. Before suit men wore doublets, hose and jerkins, where the sleeveless piece, jerkin, was on top of doublet. Aside from hose, these were also items women used and the fashions for men and women resembled in style and construction each other much closer than after the suit took over (as seen in these examples from 1630s). However the distinction between men and women's fashion had started to grow much earlier. A big shift that happened during the 16th century was that men stopped wearing skirts. Men and women wore the same garments for centuries before that. The styles and silhouettes for men and women had some differences (the skirts were often shorter for men for example) but they were parallel to each other. I wrote a whole very long post about how skirts stopped being acceptable for men. In it I write about how the shift in men's fashion was part of the large shift from feudalism to colonialism and capitalism, that needed a new hierarchy to justify the new system after the previous divinely justified feudal hierarchy was no longer an option. The new hierarchy was white supremacist patriarchy and therefore needed a clearer distinction between white men and white woman, that would also help distinct white people from the racialized people.

But such fundamental changes in the societal structure and culture are long processes. The process was continuing in the latter half of the 17th century, when Orientalism first became very popular. Orientalism is the dehumanization and fetishization of Asia and North-Africa, and it was born as the European colonial project was properly getting going in Asia. Colonialism in Asia and North-Africa took a little different form. I suspect it was because it was not that long ago, when Europeans had felt inferior to many of the peoples and empires in Asia and North-Africa, which they had always had much closer relationships with than the rest of Africa and certainly the Americas. I think that's why Orientalism is such a mix of coveting Asian and North-African cultures and bodies in a very fetishistic ways, while also demeaning and diminishing them. Nevertheless, Orientalism had a huge impact on European fashion in late 17th century. Both the way men and women's clothing was made after that to this day was strongly impacted by Orientalism. The coat and waistcoat combination was an adaptation of Turkish fashion. The three piece suit became popular in 1670s and fully took over men's fashion in 1680s (an example from 1687). The cravat was also adopted around the same time to men's wear from a light cavalry mercenary army in the Habsburgian Empire known as the Croats or Cravats. They were mainly Croatian, which to Western European was almost "Oriental" due to their proximity to Asia and Turkey in particular, and therefore the popularization of cravats as a fashion item was also influenced by Orientalism. Orientalist fashion encompasses the paradoxical nature of Orientalism itself; the Europeans coveted "the Orient" so they bastardized their fashions to construct a gender binary that left out the people who originated those fashions.

The Regency three piece suit also has all the same elements as the suit 150 years earlier, the individual pieces had just evolved into different cuts and silhouettes. The construction and the basic elements have stayed pretty similar to this day.

My point is not to in any way deny Beau Brummell's influence on Regency fashion. He was the most influential fashion icon for men in his era after all. I hope this just made it very clear that these bigger changes are not about individual people but much larger shifts and movements in society and culture. His actual influence was popularizing some of the English countryside styles, that were already part of casual fashion, as more formal fashion in the London high society, making extremely elaborate cravats into the fashionable items of the day and becoming the image of the English dandy.

The picture of him above shows him the typical English countryside suit with dark blue tail coat, white cravat and light pantaloons with polished hessian boots. He helped to make the outfit and pantaloons in general fashionable. Breeches would stay as the formal leg wear for some a decade still, till young fashionable men would start to use black or gray pantaloons in formal events too. Pantaloons, which originated from military wear, were very fitted, basically similarly constructed as breaches but long. The trousers, which were looser than pantaloons, had their moment in France during the Revolution, but because of their Revolutionary and working class association, they didn't at first pick up in the high society, especially in Britain, until 1810s. They stayed as casual fashion through the Regency Era and only started gaining formal status in 1820s and 1830s. Beau Brummell is credited for inventing or at least popularizing trousers that have strap to go under the foot in order to keep them straight. Here's first a painting from of a gentleman in a very country style emphasized by the setting. Then a illustration from 1810 of a full formal dress with breeches and a fashion plate from 1817 of day wear with trousers.

The thread also misses what dandy really was. Dandy was the embodiment of the middle class social mobility of the modern era. He was the "self-made man", the fashionable middle class and the new celebrity of a post-feudal era. He dressed in refined fashionable countryside middle class clothing and was celebrated for his style and refinement, not for his birth. Ironically though, there was a distinct reactionary quality to the Regency dandy. After all dandy did not embody social equality, but mobility. He was the ideal man of the capitalist hierarchy. A bit of dilemma for the dandy was that being extremely fashionable was central to the dandy, but after the French revolution being too fashionable and too concerned about looks had been associated with the aristocracy and was now therefore unmanly. Which is why dandy quickly came to be seen as effeminate. There is a lot of satiric cartoons from the time period that make fun of dandies and their preoccupation with fashion and looks. Here's couple from around 1810s.

In conclusion it's pretty ridiculous to say modern men's fashion was all created by one guy. The real reason why men's formal suit (and to be clear more colorful and elaborate styles have come and gone from men's informal fashion during that time) has been what it is for more than hundred years is because much bigger changes, like capitalism, colonialism, Orientalism and white supremacist patriarchy.

[loves0phelia]

hi could you rewrite the scene in ep 6 season 2 where Electra (now y/n) and Matt kiss to not get caught by security but add your own twist please? :)))

Faking Kiss

Summery: After years you and Matt meet again during a mission?

Words: 3.1k

Warning: Spicy (not smut), violence, grammar mistakes.

A/N: Thank you for requesting i love this scene!

While girls your age were learning to ride bikes or learning how to count to one hundred you were taught how to take a punch. 

The people who had taken you from your family had taken away your childhood. You never got to dress up for Halloween, to go out and knock on people’s doors for candies. You never fell asleep to your mother singing you a lullaby. You never got to sit in a class along with other kids to learn.

You watch kids do all those things while you were perched on a roof with a sniper in hand. You dreamed of being like them. You needed to be free.

As you grew up you started gaining interest in law and justice so you stole books from local libraries while you were supposed to be on missions to kill and read, read and read again. You taught yourself everything you needed to know.

At the age of 17, you took the opportunity to run away. After reading various magazines about college and teenage life you created yourself a name, a life. Before that, all you were was a number amongst others.

During a mission, targeting a wealthy man, you removed the tracker in your neck, changed into civilian clothing, and stowed away your black leather suit in your backpack

Immediately after losing contact with you, the men you worked for began looking for you. For two years you stayed hidden, away from the radar, until at 19 you applied to college.

Since your escape, your once-short hair had grown long, your body changed, seamlessly blending you into society. With fake birth certificates, you became Y/N Y/L/N without any complications. Your fraud skills even secured you a spot at Columbia University in New York. Admittedly, it may have been risky, but you desired more than anything, to pursue law and justice, to help others unlike those who had disappointed you.

During college, you made your first friends. Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson. It was everything you ever dreamed of.

COLLEGE MEMORY

A very drunk guy with dirty blond hair laughed loudly as he swayed side to side with a white walking cane he held for support. 

“Watch out everybody! I'm blind, Matt Murdock!” he laughed, still walking like he had 5 shots of vodka in his system.

“Most people just say- Matt Murdock” The brunette who wore sunglasses, held his stomach as he laughed. 

“I look like most people?” he asked genuinely.

“I don't know, I can't see” The blind guy answered in a cocky way, proud of his joke.

“Well at the moment that might be a blessing, because I'm the only one who can see the beautiful girl in front of us”  That's what made you look up from your newly bought law book, that you had bought with your very own money. It was the first book you didn't steal from the library since you ran away and you were fascinated by it. 

“Oh?” The blind student stopped abruptly just like his friend had done.

“Hi,” The blond said, catching you off guard. Nobody had yet to try and talk to you on campus since school started about a month ago. 

You looked behind you to make sure he was talking to you and when you realized he��was you answered his greetings. Your voice came out more like a whisper.

“Are you studying on a Saturday night?!” He yelled when he noticed the book on your knees that you were previously reading. You nodded and he gasped.

"Hey, Foggy, maybe we should give that a shot too," suggested the other, the extroverted one objected immediately.

“So beautiful lady, I'm Foggy and this boring one over here is Matt what's your name?” his eyebrows wiggled like gummy worms as he flirted making you giggle. 

You didn't know that Matt was starstruck by you. Your laugh, your scent and your aura were something right out of his dreams. 

You gave them your name and like you guys were friends for years, Foggy extended his hand down to you asking you to accompany them on a night of, and you quote, “mischievous adventures”

You grabbed his hand and he pulled you up to your feet before you guys started walking nowhere but everywhere at the same time.

As the night ended and the sun started waking, you walked to their dorm and when you entered, you watched Matt help Foggy into his bed like a toddler who had fallen asleep on the ride back home from the amusement park.

You chuckled as you watched him struggle, and a few minutes later, Matt and you quietly slipped out into the hallway.

“Hopefully we'll see you soon?” His hand brushed yours. You thought it was by accident but if only you knew how Matt had desperately tried to touch a part of your body all night. 

“Of course” Your smile was shy. You couldn't understand the strange fluttering feeling in your stomach as he looked at you. It was like something you had never experienced before.

After that night you three spent the integrality of the college year stuck together like glue. Every Saturday day was destined to hang out. Matt and you came so close to admitting your feelings but just as you were about to, they found you.

Freshly graduated, diploma in hand, you strode proudly toward the rendezvous point Foggy and Matt had designated. As you rounded the concrete wall outside, you spotted a car with tinted windows. Even though the car seemed inconspicuous, your heart sank as you noticed four men standing beside it. Locking eyes with one of them, a chill ran down your spine as the man pointed directly at you. Without hesitation, they all sprang into action, sprinting in your direction.

You dropped everything. Your diploma you were so proud of, your backpack with the books you had bought and your life.

END

Each passing year saw you found yourself in new cities or even countries, determined to evade their pursuit. But fate seemed to have other plans when you discovered yourself in Hell's Kitchen at the same time as them. Now, it was your chance to turn the tables and finally catch them.

You mapped out their plan and you found out they were organizing a gala to target parents with children they could steal and turn into their hit man.

You dressed up in the prettiest silk white dress you could find, your hair, now dyed in a different colour, was half up and half down curled and even though your features had changed a lot since your college years you applied makeup to make you unrecognizable.

You entered the gala with no problem. You were trained well you knew better than to get caught the first second.

Soft music and the clinking of champagne glasses rang in your head as you slipped away from the scene. You had to find out where they were keeping the children and you needed information. You knew exactly where to get it.

In a vault, in the boss's office. You would find the exact location.

You spotted a bodyguard, guarding the elevator as you made your way to it. You could have taken the stairs but you needed to be the least suspicious possible.

"Sorry, ma'am, but upstairs is off-limits, restricted area," he informed you, eyeing you up and down, prompting you to fake a pout in response.

“Ugh, the bathroom downstairs is all taken and I have to fix my lipstick, really bad” You crossed your arm under your chest purposely putting on display your breast.

You smirked when his eyes shifted to take a look.

“If it's just for lipstick I guess I can make an exception.” 

"Seriously? You're an angel," you beamed, giving his arms a playful rub as he obligingly pressed the floor button. With a ding, the doors slid open, allowing you to step inside. As the doors closed behind you, a smirk crept onto your face. It was too easy, as always. 

Now on the upper floor, you began looking everywhere for what could be the main office.

Your heels echoed loudly on the floor, earning a frustrated groan from you. Why did they have to be so loud?

You tried walking more discreetly until you bumped into a muscular body. The impact made your hair fall in front of your eyes, shielding your vision. His hands grabbed your forearms and before you could try to beat the man you were pushed against the wall in a dark hallway.

As his hand loosened, you quickly pushed your hair out of your face. Your eyes widened in surprise as you recognized the man you had bumped into.

“Matt?” You barely finished the word before his hand was on your mouth preventing you from uttering another word.

“Someone is coming” You stopped mumbling beneath his hand to be let free after he whispered in your ear. Everything was so silent you thought he was crazy until you heard the faint sound of boots approaching.

The guard paced down the dim hallway, clutching his weapon tightly, while you and Matt stood in the shadows. After he passed, you exhaled in relief as Matt gently released his hand from your lips.

“Matt,” you said, dumbfounded. Between all the people you could've run into it had to be him. The guy who you left behind without any explanation.

“You shouldn't be here y/n, it's dangerous,”  He said and your brows furrowed. How had he recognized you? 

“How did you know it's me?” you asked and he shook his head.

“It doesn't matter, you need to leave. These people who organized this gala are bad.” 

“I know Matt, I'm here to stop them” You admitted it wasn't time to come up with a lie. Even behind his glasses, you could see the confusion etched on his face.

“How did you know about them?”

“Why are you here?” You both speak over each other and before you could let him talk again his head snapped to the side, listening to something you couldn't hear.

“One of the guards is talking about you”

“How do you know that-” he shushed you and continued.

“He says you went to apply your lipstick but never came down?” he said, making you groan, you had taken too much time talking with him.

“It's a dumb excuse I used to get up here. Now if you would excuse me I have something to do” You pushed him gently out of your way and went to walk out of the hallway he had pulled you into. His hand quickly grabbed on to your arm again tugging you back.

"You follow me," he growled into your ear and then started walking. You couldn't quite explain why you trusted a blind man to lead you, but you did.

Almost like he knew exactly what you were looking for, he pushed open the door to the main office you were targeting. Flipping the light switch, the room flooded with brightness, light bouncing off mirrors to create an almost blinding effect.

You began opening every door, every drawer looking for the piece of information you needed. But you saw no signs of a vault or anything of the sort. You grabbed your hair in frustration. 

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

“Information where the kids they have captive might be. It was supposed to be in a vault in this exact room but I can't find anything”

“How do you know about the kids” 

“Because I was one of them” he listened to your heartbeat, he knew you weren't lying.

He wanted to ask more questions but he knew it wasn't the right time. You were running out of time, not gaining.

As he concentrated on the beat of your heart a harsh buzzing interfered with the soft sound.

He walked and touched the bookshelf with his fingers. He could hear the electricity travelling in the walls. 

He felt an interruption in the current when his finger grazed an old Shakespeare book. He pulled it down, and a secret door revealed itself.

“Holy shit, how did you know?” you smiled and walked into the tiny space the door that previously opened allowed you to walk in.

“I could hear the signal”

“Through the walls?”

"I can hear a lot of things. Look in this drawer," he directed, saving you the trouble of opening every single one by pointing you to the correct drawer.

 The paper with all the information you needed was on top of the files and books. Not very well hidden.

“We have to go, now” You folded the paper and quickly shoved it inside your bra.

You both ran in the main hallway but before you could get to the elevator an alarm started blaring and blue lights flashed. Matt grabbed your hand and dragged you to an empty conference room and through the frosted glass you could see multiple shadows with guns searching for you.

“You have to stay behind me okay? I don't want you to get hurt” You say before tying your hair up. 

"Oh, I know how to fight, sweetheart," he declared just before the men barged into the room where you were hiding. Without hesitation, Matt slid over the table and delivered a kick to one of them in the face.

Impressed but confused you had a sudden surge of energy, you sprang into action, fists flying and they clashed into jaws and noses. The room echoed with the sound of impact as yours and Matt’s strikes landed with an intense force.

Your movements were fluid and precise as you used your kicks and punches against the attackers. You and Matt fought as one, your movements synchronized almost perfectly.

And when the last men fell, defeated and broken, you both stood almost unarmed. But not for long.

you ran to the next level almost getting caught once again. However, you managed to hide again in another room. That's when the idea came to you.

“Kiss me” you whispered as you started to pull down your hair from your ponytail, making them cascade messily down your back.

"What?" he asked, his brows furrowing as he struggled to process what you said. 

"Kiss me, Matt, please," you pleaded. Without hesitation, he captured your lips with his own. 

As you kissed, you instinctively reached for his tie and pulled it. Your hands unbuttoned his shirt and you whispered against his lips.

“Act like we're having sex and act drunk” his lips went to your neck and his tongue laid against your pulse. You moaned loudly, exaggerating it a little.  Without needing to say anything his hand gripped your waist and lifted you on the table you were leaning on. His hands went higher and higher until he was pulling down the straps of your dress. At the same time, you lifted your leg and put it around his hip and his free hand grabbed it and squeezed the skin. His mouth came back to yours and he kissed you until you couldn't breathe.

You let out another moan of his name when the guards entered and put you both at gunpoint. 

“Don't move!” he yelled.

You and Matt put on a show of surprise. Giggling, you swayed on your feet, mimicking the unsteady movements of someone who had too much to drink.

“We are so sorry,” Matt said out of breath and tried buttoning his white shirt.

“We thought we could sneak in here… we'll be right out of here” he laughed before turning and the man grabbed his collar and pushed him roughly. Your heart rate elevated when you saw this.

“Be careful with him!” You said as you tried to wipe the red stain of lipstick that had smudged on your chin.

As the man restrained Matt, he aimed his flashlight directly at his unseeing eyes, prompting an eye roll from Matt that spoke volumes.

 Meanwhile, the second guard firmly gripped your arm, holding you in place. With a nod, the guard said in his walkie-talkie that the situation was under control and that neither you nor Matt was a threat.

“You need to leave,” he said and Matt continued apologizing before earning a firm “ Now!” from the man.

You grabbed his hand and walked away from them with a small laugh. You both walked to the now working elevator and entered with nothing opposing, 

“I don't know what you are Matt Murdock but you're not human” You laughed when the door closed. “You can hear through walls and fight while also being blind?” You heard him snort after you finished your sentence.

"We have a lot to talk about," Matt murmured as the doors of the elevator opened, lacing your hands and sharing a light-hearted chuckle at the absurdity of the evening. You both walked out of the Gala.

Making your way to your car, you glanced at Matt, wordlessly telling him your desire for him to join you. Without a word, he understood, falling into step beside you as you unlocked the car door.

You settled into the driver's seat, and he quietly took his place beside you. A moment of comfortable silence passed before you broke it with a teasing tone.

"Are you going to tell me how you did all that?" 

He met your gaze, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Are you going to tell me why you disappeared?"

 "If you spill your secrets first." you shrugged.

 "Fine, I'm Daredevil," he confessed.

 "What?!" your eyes grew three sizes and he simply nodded.

“I have so many questions,” you said as you wondered,

“Your turn” he grinned.

"Remember I told you those men raised me as a child earlier?" you began, your voice trembling a little. "Well, I ran away, and on the day of graduation because they found me. I had to leave everything behind. I loved you guys so much, Matt. I never wanted to leave, but I didn't have a choice."

With each word you spoke, he could feel the sincerity in your voice, and not once did your heart falter or deceive.

His hand grabbed yours for the millionth time that night.

"I was so lost without you," Matt confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Me too," you replied softly. 

"I don't want to lose you again," Matt admitted, his voice filled with a quiet intensity.

You intertwined your fingers in a silent promise. "You won't," you assured him.

At that moment, as you sat together in the car, you knew that you had overcome the past. Nothing would separate you and Matt. If anyone or anything tried to pull you apart you would fight it together.

[problemnyatic]

mythologizing abuse as this horrible thing that only evil, malicious Abusers do to Innocent Victims is a really, really dangerous way of thinking. You have to recognize that anyone is capable of causing harm, and that it is possible to address it and improve as a person after hurting someone.

This idea that harm is an Evil Act that comes from Bad People, or makes someone a Bad Person is a black and white framing that makes it incredibly difficult to actually address harm, and actually winds up protecting abusers.

Because that's just not how it works. It's not an accurate model of reality. So subscribing to it gives you some dangerous blind spots; you won't be looking for signs of abuse or harm from someone you believe to be a Good Person, and the people around you are very likely to be afraid to actually communicate with you when a line is crossed for fear of being made out to be a Bad Person.

Abuse is something you do, not something you are. It has nothing to do with who the individuals are, it's a description of the impact certain kinds of actions have on someone else. The idea that believing something bad or doing something hurtful defines something intrinsic to the person in question creates an environment where it is impossible to grow or change into someone who no longer does those things or believes those ideas; you've condemned that person as someone Inherently Bad, what's the point of trying to improve if nobody will give them the benefit of the doubt?

And, more to the point of what I want to get across here, thinking like this is unbelievably stressful. It puts you on constant eggshells forever - cross the wrong line, and you mark yourself as A Bad Person, someone deserving of punishment, vitriol, rejection, every and any hostility one might see fit to throw at you. It's fucking terrifying, you wind up believing that any mistake could be your undoing, that you have to do no wrong, have to convince others that you've done no wrong, that you're a Good Person, not someone who hurts others.

But that's the thing. Nobody's perfect, it's impossible to be. You can't know everything before it happens, you'll never have all the context for something before having to make a decision. Inevitably, you will cross a line, violate a boundary, realize something you were taught about the world is actually bigotry, and that you never questioned it until now. And you will have to reconcile with that. You need to be prepared to face that reality, again and again, at any moment, for the rest of your life.

Far more often than anyone wants to admit, abuse isn't a product of malice or hatred, it's a byproduct of someone well-intentioned who for one reason or another has a mental block keeping them from prioritizing someone else's needs and wellbeing as necessary. They behave in ways that hurt and shut down their victim because they can't wrap their head around the fact that that's what's going on, that they're hurting someone. Or if they do, they don't believe that there's a way to avoid it, or fix it, or change.

The mythologized model of the Evil Abuser who hurts the Innocent Victim because they're a Bad Person is more likely to create that exact kind of mental block than it is to protect anyone from harm. It makes every mistake the end, a personal apocalypse that collapses the situation around your feelings rather than addressing the harm done. It's dangerous.

Let go of the idea of Good People and Bad People. We're all just people, and we're gonna hurt each other sometimes. It doesn't need to be anything more than that. You can apologize, and try to change. You can be imperfect and still worth loving. If someone asserts otherwise, that says more about them than it does about you.

[nicomundthered]

Kept Hidden

Injured Trilogy- part one | part two | part three

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

summary: made a mistake, and then you try to hide it.

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, lots of blood and descriptions of injury, mention of suicidal thoughts, mention of character death, I'm not a doctor, established relationship, no horses you say? no horses I say, soft Joel.

word count: 11k | ao3

a/n: I eat this trope up. Hope you enjoy!

masterlist

So the thing is, you knew that you shouldn’t have gone in without Joel. But in your defense, the door was ajar and he seemed close enough behind. You just wanted to get back to Jackson before it started raining again. You normally didn't mind the rain but this was your last house to check and it was getting cold–you didn't care to be both cold and wet. And quite frankly you were tired. It had been a long day and you were so done.

You opened the creaky door and took four maybe five steps into the home and a noise made you jerk in the opposite direction when a man with a bat came charging at you. Unfortunately for you he was quicker and the bat slammed into your side before you could register what was happening.

You fell over the wind completely knocked out of you. You tried to focus on breathing but that was when the sharp nearly blinding pain made itself known. Cursing at the bat, the man, the fact that you entered the building, and unfairly at Joel where the fuck was he? You let out a pained grunt and flipped onto your back. You tried to lift the arm holding the gun but he hit your hand before you could.

The feeling of your hand shattering made you scream. “Pl-please, please don't.” You desperately wheezed out, gripping your injured hand and raising your arms enough to block your face.

He angrily murmured something that you couldn't quite make out, he lifted the bat high above his head and with a wicked gleam in his eyes brought it down. You rolled as quickly as you could, narrowly missing the descending object.

You were gasping for air as you tried to get to your feet but he jumped on top of you, quickly discarding the bat realizing that it was too slow in this situation. Instead, he put both hands around your neck and gripped tightly.

Tears formed in your eyes as you fought under the compression of your windpipe. You clawed at his hands but they were locked and with one good hand you couldn’t do much of anything.

You started seeing dark spots and knew you were about to pass out. Your last thoughts were of Joel and Ellie. What you wouldn’t give for one more night with them by the fire–Ellie reading her jokes and Joel trying to act like he didn’t find them funny. Then later, after Ellie fell asleep, Joel would snuggle up to you. His deep breaths would calm you and you’d place your hand over his heart to feel its steady beat. This was your happy place. This was home.

As last thoughts go this was nice. You felt yourself calm down and prepared to let go. It was surprisingly an easy thing to do as the blood struggled to make it to your oxygen deprived brain.

Your good hand fell by your side grazing something hard and familiar tucked into your jeans, your knife. What the hell were you doing? Giving up before even trying? If you could have laughed you might have.

With the driving need to see your home again you successfully removed the blade, and with all of the strength left in your body you managed to stab the guy in the chest—once, twice, then a third time.

He yelled an expletive and grabbed at the knife as his blood covered you. He quickly gave up realizing that it was too late for him and decided that his last act on this earth was going to be trying to take you with him.

He got two good punches in, you barely even registered the blows landing on your jaw and then cheek due to the euphoric feeling of air filling your lungs, then he collapsed on top of you, the handle of your knife uncomfortably dug into your shoulder. Which brought your attention back to your injured side. The sharp pain was becoming more noticeable.

You desperately tried to roll him off of you. He wasn't large–smaller than Joel but not by much, but each time the pain in your hand became intense or your vision started to get blurry you’d panic and release him, which caused him to land roughly on your abdomen causing you to yell out.

It felt hopeless.

Just as you closed your eyes while you continued to slowly suffocate, you heard your name. It sounded distant. You looked around and couldn’t see anyone. And when you thought that maybe it was a hallucination, a cruel trick your mind was playing on you, you heard it again. This time closer and loud enough to recognize it.

“Joel?” You barely managed to rasp out.

He turned the corner quickly with his rifle. His brown eyes were intense but barely looked your way while he made sure the room was clear.

“I-I can't…” you couldn’t finish the sentence.

Ideally, he would like to check out the rest of the house for more people, but the desperation in your voice and the trail of blood that slowly pooled by your side almost made him shudder and refocus his priorities.

He swung his rifle behind him and threw the man off of you. Even though the man had enough blood on him to confirm his demise, he still had the urge to shoot him and reached for his gun.

Joel was hyper focused. His vision was clear, his breath was quick but deep, his heart was pounding in his ears making them feel like they were stuffed with cotton. He felt feral.

He found that he couldn't bring himself to look at you yet. He needed to eliminate the threat he needed to make sure no one else could hurt you. He found it hard to switch from protector to caregiver–which were two very different modes. And if he was being completely honest, if you were badly injured, if you were dying then his world would come crumbling down. He had experienced that feeling before and he was in no hurry to feel it again. He couldn't. He didn't think he was strong enough for it.

Caution be damned. If someone heard the gun go off then he’d kill them too. And anyone else that dared to threaten your existence. He’d kill them all. He was no longer thinking rationally. He could barely think at all.

The rifle went off twice, the bullets landed into the already dead man's chest. He felt satisfaction as the blood exploded from his motionless body. Pride came with it, you had killed the fucker.

And as soon as he watched the last bullet land he dropped the gun and fell to his knees beside you. His attention was now on you. His ears cleared enough so that he could hear your shallow-wheezing breath. He saw the fear in your eyes as you gripped his arm begging him for help, needing the air to return.

“Easy, easy. Shhh deep breaths,” he took a deep breath in and out trying to guide you through it. The fact that he wasn't sure what was wrong made his blood run cold.

As if you read his thoughts, you lifted your neck and hand gestured a choking motion with your good hand. He then noticed the red and purple colors discoloring your beautiful throat. His hand delicately touched the darkest spot and blinding anger made the muscles in his jaw twitch. He gently moved his hand higher to stroke your swollen cheek.

“Damn,” he sighed. “Jus- just breathe as deep as you can, ok?” You nodded and he lifted your head to lay on the softness of his thigh.

“You hurt anywhere else?”

You lifted your hand.

His eyes glazed over as he took in your swollen bruised hand. He cursed the dead man as he carefully held your hand in his. It was hot and the skin felt tight. It looked like it hurt badly and if it was indeed broken, which it certainly looked like, it would probably be an injury you would carry for the rest of your life.

He was so fucking mad. Not at you. Never at you. He did his best to calm down.

“Is this any of your blood?”

He held his breath. God help him if it was.

You shook your head no and he released all of the air in his lungs. “You did so good baby. I’m so proud of you.”

Your breathing was slowly returning to a calmer and fuller rhythm which allowed you to speak. “A- bat…he had,” you tried to clear your throat. “A bat,” your voice was quiet and hoarse but he was so relieved to hear it.

Joel looked around for the offending object and when he saw the aluminum baseball bat a few feet away he felt his heart begin to race. He gripped your leg a little tighter than he should and his voice was deep and hateful. “Son of a bitch got lucky.” His thoughts flooded with the violent urge to get the bat and smash the man's face in until it was nothing more than a pile of gunk. That's what the man deserved.

You placed your good hand on his and rubbed gentle circles causing him to ease his grip, you knew him so well. “I’m ok Joel.”

It wasn’t that you didn't love this side of him, you loved him and accepted him with all of his imperfections just as he did yours, but you hated when he did this. Took all of the blame. Put too much on himself. Acted like everything bad happened because he wasn't fast enough to see it coming. And you hated that with these thoughts came aggressively dark connotations. He wanted you to believe that he moved on from that and maybe he had for the most part, but not when it came to his family. It truly wasn't something he could help.

You knew that his daughter- Sarah had died. And although you didn't know what it was like to lose a child and you didn't pretend to, you have lost a lot of people you loved as well. So you didn't pretend to be better than that, you understood.

You could see the fear in his eyes now. Your physical wounds would heal, and you knew that his emotional wounds wouldn't. And this would be yet another scar. The inability to protect the ones he loves–his greatest fear. Everytime he failed he lost another piece of himself to his darkness.

Joel would do anything to keep you and Ellie safe. He wanted neither of you to have to see anymore death. For both of you to have a place where you could take off your shoes, and not need a weapon or a backup weapon or a backup for your back up weapon. He often tried to talk you out of going on runs and taking patrol shifts, but that was an argument he'd never win. You were a team and you weren't going to leave him alone.

The color was returning to your face and your breaths were not full but they were enough for you to want to sit up.

He was still staring at the blood covering your midsection as you abruptly became vertical. You gasped at the sharp pain in your abdomen, which you should probably mention, but there wasn't anything he could do about it here. You’d wait until you saw the doctor in Jackson. There was no need to put more worry and unnecessary guilt on him. He battles with that enough as it is, and if you were being honest you were a little more than a little ashamed. If you wouldn't have been so impatient you wouldn't be lying covered in blood, and more injured than you let on.

“Hey easy!”

“I’m fine,” you gritted out defensively as he helped prop you against the wall.

He looked at you skeptically. His eyes continued to study your body. You had the tendency to tell half truths when you were injured. You didn't like the attention and feeling that you were incapable. One day your pride was going to get you into big trouble.

He also knew that you kept your pain hidden from him, especially from him for a reason he didn't understand. He had caught Ellie helping you with cuts and sprains more often than he liked. And he couldn’t for the life of him wrap his head around that. The two of you had been together for years now. He loved you and you loved him and yet, you still felt too guilty that you were–what, human? That you felt pain and bled? That you made mistakes?

You always seemed so ashamed, so embarrassed. Like you were afraid that you somehow had let him down. Which was insane, he just didn't want you hurt. Even if it was by your determination just a little sprain or scrape.

So no, he didn't believe you when you said you were fine. Despite knowing that, he still didn't want to waste time arguing with you. It would be a losing battle for him anyhow, and it would only make you feel worse. But he did have to believe that you were going to be ok to make it back.

“I’ll be ready to go in a minute,” your voice was pure gravel as it pulled him from his thoughts.

“We’ll stay here as long as you need,” he rocked back on his heels and his fingers were flexing where they balanced him to the ground.

You thought that you understood why he couldn't be still–the fear and his feeling of inadequacy, you knew it was the past haunting him—teasing him it will happen again. He was fighting the impending darkness, trying to distract himself from its reality. It filled you with guilt and shame, because you caused this. If you would have just waited. If you would have been more careful, the haunted look that now covered his handsome face wouldn't be there.

“Joel.”

Even though he had seen you injured before, he would admit that this was different. There was something about the blood soaking your clothes. He had never seen you covered in it before. He knew that it wasn’t yours, he had been looking for tears in your shirt, but the image still shook him. There was a constant thrum in his body—his pulse felt loud and he couldn’t keep his damn hands still.

“Joel,” you said as loud as you could manage.

His eyes shot to yours, they were overflowing. Not with tears but raw conflicting emotions– love and fear.

“I’m ok,” you gripped at his trembling hand.

He leaned forward and rested his forehead gently on your own.

“Scared the shit out of me,” he practically whispered, his breath tickling your skin.

“I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...”

He interrupted you by suddenly leaning back so he could look into your eyes, “Not now, ok? Not now.”

“I shouldn’t have gone in without you,” tears flooded your eyes and you gasped almost frantically trying your best not to sob at your own stupidity and pain.

He pulled you to him tightly and you felt the proverbial dam break. You cried hard and snuggled into his neck, tears wetting his jacket. His fragrance gave you a sense of peace encouraging you to breathe fuller. You finally felt safe.

A massive lump formed in his throat, you weren't the only one struggling to breathe. He tried his best to keep his emotions in tact, but he felt the familiar panic begin to creep. The attacks had been happening more frequently and he had yet to tell you about them. This wasn't the time, if it ever would be. This was about your comfort and it wasn't fair to put his own shit on you. He realized that that was hypocritical of him, but he had to be stronger than that.

The only thing grounding him was your warmth and the sound of your breathing. Your body suddenly felt so small to him and delicate. You were always precious to him but you suddenly felt like you were made of glass. He worried that if he squeezed too tight and that you might shatter into a million pieces right in front of him. He thought about how easy it would be for someone larger to hurt you. How easily he could hurt you.

And yet you weren’t the one laying lifeless.

“I got you baby, I got you,” he wasn't even aware that he was muttering promises and endermanets into your hair.

You don’t know how long you stayed in his arms but you did know you were in no hurry to leave his strong embrace. After a while your tears slowed and eyelids grew heavy. Your head pounded and you just wanted to lay back down.

“I need to wrap your hand,” he said slowly unwrapping himself from you, sensing that all of your remaining adrenaline was dwindling and that it was time for action.

He touched your hand as carefully as possible. It looked worse than it had a few moments ago—almost double in size and a few shades darker than your skin tone. He took out his handkerchief and wrapped it loosely. It wouldn’t do much but he figured that it was better than not doing anything, and that simply wasn't an option.

You hissed and he frowned in sympathy.

“Just until we get you to the Doctor,” he said more to himself than to you.

You caressed his cheek with your uninjured hand. His face relaxed as his bloodshot eyes closed and he leaned into your palm giving a firm lingering kiss.

“Joel-“

“Yeah sweetheart?” He mumbled into your palm.

“Let’s not tell Ellie about this. It’s hard enough to keep her-“ you coughed unexpectedly and it made you wince.

Joel witnessed it all and his eyes narrowed as he observed you, “I think she might notice.” He looked at your bruised cheek and neck. Not to mention your busted hand. You might could lie to her about one of these things but not all three.

You cleared your throat but it didn’t do much good and spoke slowly. “I just…I don’t want her feeling like she needs to do this. I just talked her out of going on these runs until she's a little older and now she's not gonna let us go alone. She's so young Joel and I don’t want her getting hurt trying to- to protect me…or something. You already do too much and-“

He said your name firmly, “Stop. Don’t you fucking dare.” He sat up straight and ran his hand over his face. He didn’t want to have this conversation. It was ridiculous. You were his to care for. Didn’t you know that?

It wasnt that you couldnt take care of yourself and you have done a good job of that your whole life. You just happened to be a little unlucky is all, and to be fair this was by far your worst injury. But given the circumstances you'd say you've done alright for yourself.

“I have told you time and time again, we are a family. You, me, and Ellie.” His eyes searched yours seeing if you were listening. “I would do anythingin the world for either of you.”

You turned, avoiding eye contact with him. The love that he had for you felt too much at times. In fact it completely overwhelmed you. It was hard to accept that someone could love you this much. It took awhile for him to admit his feelings to you but once he did it was like watching a flower bloom. He poured his love out and in doing so got back some of his past self. It made him feel happier like a weight was lifted from his shoulders. He absolutely loved loving you, and caring for you. It gave his life meaning, it made him feel human again, something that he hadn't felt in decades.

However, the downside was he still had his thorns–your relationship had only made them sharper and along with that came a protective side that was lethal.

In return, you were afraid that you couldn’t properly convey how much he meant to you. You weren't a flower, you had worn your affection for him with every glance you gave. With his confession you hadn't blossomed, you became grounded–more like the roots of a tree than a flower. Your feelings didn't change outwardly, you still looked at him the same, but on the inside, deep down in your soul everything had become safe and stable since Joel Miller had entered your life. You for the first time since the outbreak felt peace.

You would die for him just as fast as he'd die for you. Even though you doubt he would believe that, or maybe he just wouldn't want to. Of course he knew you loved him but he didn't understand just how much. It was more than just a love, it had become a need. A selfish need to see him everyday, to hear his smooth calming voice, to feel his strong hands on you. Your day felt empty without it. Sometimes you felt like you needed him more than he needed you, and feared that with his past loss one day he’d wake up and realize you weren’t worth the pain. Especially if you kept getting injured.

“Hey-” he said, breaking you out of your anxious thoughts. “Look at me.”

You turned your head slowly. His eyes locked on to yours, “I don’t know what more I can do to convince you. Tell me and I’ll do it.”

“I know you love me.”

“Do you?”

You shook your head yes.

He didn’t look happy, “Do you love me?”

“Of course I do!” You spoke as loud as your voice would allow. You coughed again, this time it was deeper and sounded wetter. It took longer for you to return to normal.

His brows furrowed, “Easy, hey easy. I believe you.” His hand caressed your shoulder. “Don’t speak just nod, ok?”

You nodded in confirmation.

“Listen- I- I know you. And I know you don't want to believe it, but I…I’m scared of the man I'd be without you.”

“Don’t say...”

“Quiet,” he said firmly with a little rawness. “Don't get yourself worked up- just listen.”

You nodded that you would.

“When I lost Sarah...”

You reached out and touched his hand and with eyes full of fresh tears you shook your head no. God he didn't have to do this now.

“No. I- I-...It’s ok. It’s time, I just need you to understand something,” he turned his hand over and held yours tenderly. “She died because of my mistakes. She was shot and I-” he swallowed thickly. “I- couldn't save her. That was on me, her father. She trusted me to keep her safe. She trusted me with her life and I couldn't even give her that. The most simple thing I could have done.” He shook his head in disbelief, “...and, my one job- and I failed her,” he clinched and then unclenched his jaw.

“After- I went completely…there was nothing. Couldn't cry. Could barely eat–I didn't want to. So I decided that I- had had enough. Enough of it all…I couldn't see a point without her. Without her smile, there was no sun anymore and- and so I- grabbed my gun…”

You tensed and sucked in a deep breath. He lifted your hand so that your fingertips touched the raised flesh on his forehead.

“I missed.”

Tears fell from your eyes.

“Thank god I missed.” He brought your hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to your knuckles. It wasn't a kiss so much as him needing to just feel your skin.

He said your name when you turned away and your hand fell, unable to look at his pained expression any longer. You felt that you had to be strong for him but you found it very difficult. He was finally sharing with you his darkest moment, something that you had wondered about since you got to know him– you never tried to pry, if he didn’t want you to know you could live with that. It was his memory to share and you would die not knowing if that’s what he wanted. It wouldn’t change how you felt about him.

You had just wanted to know all parts of Joel. The good and the bad. Maybe even especially the bad, because that's the part he's let motivate and mold him into the man he is today. Not that you've ever blamed him for that. You didn't know what you'd do if you lost Joel or Ellie–you didn't know who you'd become. But this, this you honestly weren't expecting.

You hated that with this knowledge, it felt like both a relief and a massive burden. He had now bared his soul to you but in doing so he had just unintentionally placed something on you that was unfair. You didn’t want to feel like the catalyst, like the ticking time bomb waiting to explode and kill what he'd finally gotten back. You didn’t want that on your conscience and you were sure he wasn't even aware of what he'd done, but it frightened you.

And as he sat before you now–with those deep brown eyes boring into yours, you all of the sudden selfishly wished that he hadn't shared. It felt too much, too serious, too final. Your head started pounding and the pain in your hand became more apparent.

“And now, twenty years later I’ve been given a second chance- at love, at life. I know accepting that is hard for you- I get it, but even if you can't accept it- don't you ever, ever doubt it.”

He gently grabbed your chin and moved your face so that you were inches away looking up at him, “Because, I- I can’t fail you.”

He pressed his lips to yours. It was quick and gentle, and then he rested his forehead back onto yours.

Whereas he felt a sudden peace you were almost panicking. “You- you won’t. You couldn’t. Even- even if something happened…”

He said your name, “Please…”

“Let me,” you leaned back and he followed only this time he was the one dreading the eye contact. “You would have to keep going.”

He didn't respond.

“Joel you'd have to. If not for me then for Ellie.”

He sighed. “I can't make that promise to you. I- I wish I could but I can't. I’m stronger now, I know I am. You've helped me be that, but if…if you left me- I don’t know.”

“Can you promise me that you'd try?” You knew that wasn't far, but you had to hear it. You couldn't bear the thought of him hurting himself over you and you knew that the next time, if there ever was one, he wouldn't miss.

He nodded yes that he would try.

“Ok.”

“Ok?” He asked not believing that you would just accept him like that. That you would just hear the darkest part of him and still love and respect him. That you understood him, even with all of his darkness, and after his admission you now knew it all.

You nodded but then your cough returned violently.

“I told you not to speak and now look at you,” he frowned, his concern starting to rear its ugly head again, and he stood up deciding it was time to leave.

“We need to get you home,” he walked over and picked up your gun and stuck it in his pants, and then pulled your knife from the man’s chest, wiped it off and tucked it back into your pants. “You ready?”

He was overwhelmed by the sudden urge to get you out of the house. It was too cold and he didn't want you breathing anymore of the musty air.

He slowly helped you up and stilled when you groaned out. The blood rushed to your head and you swayed.

“I gotchu,” he held you steady as your world slowly righted itself.

After a few moments you nodded indicating that you were ready. He took off his jacket and placed it over your shoulders, and swung his gun back onto his back.

“I don’t ne–”

“It's getting colder and it's gonna rain.” You stared at him about to argue when he said, “I’ll be fine. You know the cold doesn't bother me.”

You scoffed knowing that it was a losing battle. He complained about the cold as often as you did.

He helped you to the door and you found that you couldn't stand up straight. That was fine though as long as you could walk you were good. Jackson was only about four miles away. It would only take an hour, maybe two if you had to slow down. You could make it.

You had to.

Thirty minutes later, you were moving as fast as your legs could but your side hurt. And for the first time since the injury you were actually worried. The pain was sharp and deep, and it felt like you had a sack of rice draped over your chest, making it very difficult to breathe. Though what concerned you the most was after your last round of coughing, you had tasted blood.

Joel was a couple of steps ahead, clearing the way, just in case the man in the cabin wasn't alone. You knew that his confession took a lot out of him, hell it took a lot out of you, but now he was focused on getting you home. Whereas before you felt like you had all of the time in the world now you felt pressured to continue.

Each step felt heavier than the last, and your pace was slowing dramatically but you still didn't call out. You had to dig into something deep within you–keep moving, keep moving, you can't be his bomb.

Another few minutes pass and you're still not even at the halfway point. It's beginning to rain, and you believe it's mixed with sleet. You can hear the soft pattering as it hits the fallen leaves.

Despite your chills you're sweating now. You can feel it dripping down the back of your neck. You can no longer feel the pain in your hand, probably thanks to Joel’s wrapping–or at least you hoped that was why. But you did have the worst sore throat of your life. And your side felt too big- swollen with its own heartbeat.

The ground was slick from the rain and you stumbled a few times. You start shaking from fear or shock, you aren’t sure. When you coughed this time you had to bend over. It was loud and intense, it echoed through the trees as it brought you to your knees.

Joel continued ahead. He felt that he had to keep moving. Everything would be fine once you got home. He had to believe that.

He had a feeling that something more was wrong. He observed you, he specialized in you. But the fear within him, the fear that he’d fail someone he loved yet again…it made his chest hurt. It made him want to pick you up and run. He needed to get you to safety.

But when he heard that cough, the one that had taken you to the ground, he turned and ran to you. His heart almost stopped entirely when he saw how you were shaking, and when he saw the new blood beading the arm of his jacket he fell to his knees with you.

“How long?” he barely managed to rasp out.

“I’m f-fine,” you spoke so softly that you almost couldn't be heard over the rain.

Joel sighed in disapproval as your name left his lips. “Why would you lie to me?”

You looked up at him, blood coated your teeth and bottom lip. “There's noth– nothing you can do…I-I didn't want to…worry you.”

The words that your hoarse voice barely managed to rasp out mixed with the sight of you chilled him to the bone. He would rather be eaten alive by clickers than to be in this hell he was in now.

“Baby...”

You turned your head and coughed again, so violently that your face turned a deeper shade and the veins in your forehead protruded. Blood sprayed out from your mouth with every cough and you suddenly felt very tired.

He held onto you from your side and he could feel the effort required for each breath. He could feel the tremors, and scarier still- he could smell the metallic twang of your blood.

When you finally calmed down, it felt like hours to him but it was no more than a couple of minutes, he hauled you up not wanting you to be in the cold mud for another second.

“I'm going to have to look at you, ok?”

You feebly nodded. His hand reached for the bottom of your shirt and you grabbed his hand stopping him. You looked at him ashamed as you mouthed the words ‘I’m so sorry Joel’.

When he watched your beautiful lips make those words he stilled, his eyes shifting between yours. He was stabbed with an intense fear that made him want to collapse. His eyes didn't leave yours. What he was searching for he didn't know, but he needed something. It was like he didn't believe how serious it was, like he was waiting for you to laugh or smile.

He placed both hands on either side of your face and handled you a little rougher than he intended. He didn't hurt you but the intensity was definitely there.

“You are going to be ok?”

Your eyes wandered, you didn't want to alarm him but you were terrified. You were beginning to think that maybe you wouldn't be.

He said your name, “Look at me. I said you are going to be ok. You hear me?”

You start crying again but you still nodded with more conviction this time, for his sake.

“It's not much further, we will go slow and take as many breaks as you need–then we'll getchu home and warmed up by the fire, alright?”

You nodded again. You recognized what he was doing, and appreciated it. But as much as you wanted to cuddle in front of the fire with Joel, honestly all you wanted was a doctor.

He placed a kiss on your forehead and he backed away trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He wanted to fall on his knees and scream up at the heavens. This isn't fair, this wasn't right. Though he stayed strong, because for all he knew, maybe it wasn't that bad.

The problem was though, it was that bad.

You reluctantly let him slowly lift your shirt. You turned your head so you couldn't see his reaction. You didn't want to, you knew what was probably there and you didn't think you were strong enough to watch his face as he saw the hidden injury.

You wanted to fuss at him and say you were ‘fine let's go, we are wasting time’ but you physically couldn't. You wanted to jog ahead playfully and ask ‘what was taking so long’ but you couldn't. You wanted to remove the furrow of his brow and the frown of his mouth but you couldn't.

Your shirt was still wet with your attacker’s blood and rain. It was clinging to your skin which made the reveal even more traumatizing for Joel. Last time he’d touched a bloody abdomen that wasn't his own, it was his dying daughters.

“Fuck,” he wasn’t aware he choked out.

Your right rib cage was extended—swollen like a football and so dark of a purple it was almost black. He let his fingertips lightly graze the swollen area. It was hard and felt hot to the touch.

Your involuntary tremors made him snap out of it and he let go of your shirt and put his hands on your shoulders

“We have to get going. Ok?”

You mouthed, ‘how bad?’

“It’s not bad, we just need to get home before dark.”

You looked at him knowingly, it was his serious expression that told you the truth.

‘Joel?’ You silently persisted. Needing to hear it from his own admission. If you were dying you wanted to know.

He tilted his head down and took a deep steadying breath then returned to you, “It’s…it’s not good baby. Some ribs are broken I—I think and it’s so purple, I think it’s internal bleeding but—but I don’t know. I think maybe your lung…” he swallowed and did his best to steady himself, “I think a rib might–might have punctured your lung. I’ve never seen…we need to get you back.”

His voice sounded foreign to his own ears, too weak and soft for the moment. It sounded like he had given up but that couldn't be further from the truth. His chest hurt. His shoulders were shaking from anxiety and his heart was racing dangerously.

Tears were streaming down your face, blending with the now pouring rain. You smiled sadly– 'Told you, nothing you can do.’

He made a sound you never wanted to hear from him again. If you had to describe it, and you really didn't want to, it sounded like a strangled sob.

He pulled your good side to him and held you for a moment, more for him than you. He needed to feel you, as a reminder that you were here, that you were still warm and alive.

The half embrace helped you as well. Maybe you had been walking too fast, because this break had helped you breathe, you hadn’t had the urge to cough in awhile.

“Alright let’s go real slow. You just focus on your breathing,” he put your arm around his neck and put his arm under your arm. He braced you taking most of your weight so that you just barely had to move your legs.

You didn’t struggle for another fifteen minutes after, but then you felt the cough coming and tapped his arm. He stopped immediately and held you up. Your legs wobbled as the cough took almost everything that you had. You felt extremely sore as the sharpness from your broken rib poked at your organs. The blood returned and so did the wheezing.

“I’ve got you…I’ve got you.” His face grew pale as he saw the amount of blood coming out of you.

You looked up at him, blood dripping from the corner of your mouth and mouthed ‘tired.’

“I know baby, I am too but we still have a little ways to go. We need to hurry though because we don't want to worry Ellie.”

He held you tighter and took more of your weight, practically dragging you alongside of him.

You tried honestly you did, but your feet felt like lead and your eyes were refusing to stay open. The struggle to breathe was returning and you started to feel cold.

The rain continued to pour. The mud was starting to stick to Joel's boots making him have to pick up his feet a little higher. If you were to look behind you'd see trail marks from you not being able to pick up your feet.

A few more minutes of struggling, and with a little more than a mile to go, you tugged at his arm.

He slowly came to a stop and looked at you.

The color was gone from your face and you could barely hold your head up. ‘I can't’, you silently stated. You were by now too weak to cough. The rattling in your chest had grown louder and wetter, and the pain in your side was becoming unbearable, irritated by each tug as he pulled you along. You just wanted to lay down. You felt your body give up.

“It's ok.”

You frowned and if you had any tears left they would begin to fall but you were empty. You feared you had nothing left in you, and really didn't want to die this close to Jackson. That would be cruel and pathetic.

You wanted to tell him to go ahead and get help, that you'd wait for him, that you would do your best to stay awake. But you knew that was pointless–he would never leave you.

“I’m proud of you. You made it so far.” He kissed the top of your head. Then he moved in front of you, and turned his back, “Hold on to me.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck–low enough to where you don't choke him, and grimaced as you squeezed your bad hand too tightly but didn't let go. You put all of your remaining energy into holding on.

He grabbed a hold of your legs and brought them around to hug his waist, then he wasted no time and started trudging through the muck as fast as he could. He could feel your trembling body and because of how close your mouth was to his ear, he could hear every gasp for air. It sounded scary but it was comforting, he prayed it didn't stop.

The weather was only getting worse and he felt that that fit the mood appropriately, because something this bad couldn't happen on a beautiful day. The rain was falling so heavily now that it affected his visibility. You were both soaked, even his boots sloshed with water.

There was a road that led straight to Jackson. It wasn't usually busy and only really got a handful of visitors a year, most people would turn back before even trying to get in after they saw the armed guards. That was the quickest way back, but both of his hands were currently preoccupied by holding your legs, so he couldn't defend you if need be. So even though it was much harder on him he opted to stay hidden in the safety of the trees.

By his determination, if he could keep up this pace, you'd be home in thirty minutes.

“How are you doing back there?” He asked. He had been avoiding speaking too much because he needed all the air he could get. He wasn't exactly young anymore and although you weren't heavy to him–he still needed to be smart with his stamina.

You didn't respond.

“Baby, if you can hear me move your leg.”

Nothing.

Shit he thought, picking up his pace. He still heard your rattled breathing but losing consciousness was never a good sign.

It began to thunder and the wind started picking up. The temperature was dropping fast.

And just as he was thinking about how the weather was currently mirroring the turmoil within him, he felt your grip loosen. He reacted quickly enough to lean forward so you wouldn’t fall from his back.

The sounds of the storm made it so he could no longer hear your breath and at the loss of that sound, meant he'd lost all signs of your life.

He fell to his knees instantly and as carefully as possible, turned and laid you on the ground. He quickly leaned forward and hovered his good ear over your mouth. It took an agonizingly long time but he heard it there, the faint sound of your sluggish breath.

He sobbed out in relief and did his best to collect himself. He took just a second to look down at you. You were so hauntingly beautiful at that moment. Blood diluted by the rainwater lightly streamed out from your mouth. A few strands of hair were stuck to your face. He moved them carefully like with one false move and you'd be gone.

Now that he couldn’t talk to you, all he wanted to do was tell you how much he loved you, and vowed to himself that if you survived he’d tell you everytime he thought it.

He moved to cradle you in his arms and once he had a good grip, he slowly stood up. His lower back protested with an achy twinge of a past injury, but he could care less. He was getting you home no matter if he was broken in half.

Carrying you this way was more of a challenge. It was harder on his body to do so but also he could see just enough of your face to make him constantly on the verge of breaking down. Despite the paleness of your face, bruising of your cheek, and the blood dribbling out from your mouth, you looked peaceful. And that scared him so bad he almost couldn't deal with it.

Every fiber of his being wanted to run and now after really thinking about it, it was fucked up that the weather was so bad. Winter was a few months away and he had not experienced a rain like this since being in Wyoming. So naturally on all days that it could happen it had to be today.

His arms, back, and legs were on absolute fire but he was getting close now. He could see the buildings in the distance.

With a new found surge of energy he picked up his pace. The motion jostled you and you grunted in pain.

“I know, I know but we are almost there. Just hold on for me.”

When he got you to the entrance he yelled out as loud as he could, “Help! Somebody helppppp!”

Tommy who had been patrolling came running and was the first one to see Joel with his arms full of you. He tried to help his brother by taking you from Joel's arms, but Joel jerked you away from him.

“Get the doctor! Go- GO!” His voice was rough but loud enough to send chills down Tommy’s spine.

He had only heard that voice one other time. He took a giant step back and tried his best not to think of another day long ago. He looked at you and got that eerie familiar feeling. Joel looked ready to yell again so Tommy wasted no more time and sprinted ahead calling out for the doctor.

Just as Joel made it to the old clinic, he could see the doctor running down the street putting her hair up as she yelled out for him to go around back.

She met him there and quickly opened the door which led directly to her operating room. She cleaned her hands as he laid you on the table.

If he hadn't just heard your soft puffs of air he would think that you were dead. In fact the doctor did assume you were and checked for a heartbeat.

Tommy and Maria came barging through the other door, he was panting for air and she was looking at you with such anguish.

“How is she?” Maria asked quickly.

You, Maria, and Tommy really got along. The four of you spent a lot of time together. You'd go to the movies and eat dinner as a double date. They loved you. So much that Joel often found himself feeling like the odd man out. He just wanted to be around you, he no longer cared if that was selfish.

“She has a heartbeat, that's all I know so far.” The doctor's voice was smooth and feminine, though urgent.

Joel then realized that he wasn't being any help. He was just standing there with his arms slightly raised forward like he was expecting for you to be placed back into them. You weren't out of the woods yet just because he got you to the doctor. The next step of your recovery has begun and he needs to get his head on straight. His recuperation couldn’t begin until after you were stable–until after you were home and in his arms.

“She–she um…” His voice didn't sound like his own, too weak and desperate sounding. It sounded like he was about to break down. He realized this and pushed his wet hair back out of his face and straightened his shoulders. He calmed his breathing and his thoughts and spoke much more assuredly. “She was attacked with a baseball bat. Her side is bad and her- her hand. He tried to strangle her, but it's–it’s her side.”

The doctor didn't even look up at him as he spoke. Her sole focus was on you. She had already determined that you had been choked and beaten–your swollen face and neck was more than enough evidence to determine that. She noticed your labored breathing but had assumed that it was from the trauma to your windpipe.

She lifted up your shirt to examine your side, and quickly instructed, “We need to get her clothes off.”

Joel rushed to your side almost protectively and assisted the doctor in removing his jacket from you. Tommy and Maria stripped you of your boots and socks, they both finished and looked up when Joel cut your shirt open. He fought the urge to shield you from their view.

Maria gasped, one hand flew to her mouth as tears filled her eyes, and the other landed on her belly in an unconscious attempt to self soothe. Tommy wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in close.

Joel had to quickly construct a wall around his emotions–or else he would be useless in the moment. His eyelids slightly lowered as he blocked out their reactions. He only waited for the next task that the doctor gave him.

She prodded and poked you, but you didn't respond.

Then she looked up and turned to Tommy. “I need Amber and Michael.” They were her two assistants. Amber had been a nurse and she had been training Michael for a couple of years now.

He nodded and ran out.

Maria had composed herself and reached for your belt buckle. Joel responded negatively to that and pushed her hands out of the way and took over. She took no offense to it and got out of his way. He had your belt undone and your wet pants off quickly–an act that he was now an expert at.

Tommy, Amber, and Michael all came flying in and crowded around you. Joel was glued to the spot but all of these eyes on you made him uncomfortable, it was like he was no longer present in the moment, like some animalistic instinct was begging to take over- protect, protect.

“Joel?”

“Joel!” Tommy shook him and Joel swatted his arm away from him roughly.

Tommy understood Joel and had seen him at his absolute worst so he didn't take it to heart, but he was worried for his older brother. He was acting like he did after Sarah's death and you were still alive.

“The doc wants us out.”

Joel shook his head profusely–not a chance.

Tommy practically begged him but he wasn't listening. He was just watching them working on you. It was like everything was happening in a daze. All of the motions blurred together and any sound that he did hear sounded like it was far away. Time slowed down and he ignored his brother tugging at his arm.

A loud knock made Joel snap out of it. His eyes were dry from staring and he blinked rapidly in an attempt to wet them.

Nobody had responded to the knocking, everyone was either too busy working on you or too busy worrying over you.

The door swung open so aggressively that the door handle loudly hit the wall behind it chipping the painted brick. Ellie came barging in, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

She saw Joel covered in blood, and a look in his eyes that she didn't recognize. “What the fuck happened?” She said as she looked from Joel over to you. Her voice was as strong as ever but her eyes flooded with tears and her mouth slightly opened.

When she looked at him again and saw the mirrored pain in his own eyes. Not knowing what to do, she ran to his arms and hugged him tightly.

His weak excuse of a wall came crashing down as he held on to her for dear life.

It was only then that Maria and Tommy were able to herd them out of the room.

As they waited Joel did his best to fill them in on what all happened, or at least everything that he knew. He didn't really feel like talking. Ellie was livid and full of random questions about your attacker. Questions that he had no clue about. They didn't even really matter but it was her mind trying to make sense of why someone would dare hurt you.

There were two chairs in the now deemed waiting area. Two chairs that neither Joel nor Ellie touched. They simply paced, and paced, and continued pacing. At one point Ellie was overwhelmed with emotion and swiped the contents of a nearby shelf clean off. Joel didn't bat an eye.

Tommy stood solemnly and Maria eventually took one of the chairs. He had told her a few times that they should go home, that she was pregnant and needed her rest, but she didn't say a word–just gave him a look that could kill.

It was mid morning by the time the doctor came out. Her shirt was splattered with your blood and she was drying her hands on a towel. She looked exhausted. Joel and Ellie ran up to her and Maria stood by Tommy.

She explained that it was broken ribs, collapsed lung, and she had tried to operate on her hand, but Joel couldn’t clearly understand anything past she's stable.

She put the towel over her shoulder and stretched her neck from side to side. “They are cleaning her up and then you guys can see her. She’s going to be in a lot of pain for a while, but I do believe she's going to be ok.”

Maria let out a ‘thank god’ and embraced her husband, who also looked quite thankful.

Joel and Ellie though stared in disbelief. Until they saw you they wouldn't get their hopes up. Not that they didn't trust the doctor–they just had prepared for the worst and needed to see you.

After twenty minutes Michael came out and told them they could see you now. Maria insisted that Ellie and Joel go in first. She knew they needed to be alone with you.

The room seemed too bright and the sterile smell was so strong it was almost nauseating. “Oh shit.” Ellie said as the sight before her surprised her.

Joel also couldn't believe his eyes. He didn't know what he had expected but it wasn't this.

You were slightly propped up on the bed, your skin pale and lifeless. Your torso was heavily wrapped all the way down to your pelvis. There was a thin sheet covering your legs and feet. And your hand was placed elevated on a pillow beside you.

But what had caught them off guard was Amber sitting by your side holding a hand held pump, manually pumping air into your lungs.

Amber smiled sweetly at the pair that she couldn't believe were not actual father and daughter. “I know it looks scary, but this won't have to be done for long. It's just making it easier on her lungs right now, she can breathe without it.”

Neither said a word. They just stared.

“I'll give you guys some alone time.”

She stopped pumping and got up to leave when Ellie ran over and started pumping. “Are you fucking crazy?”

“Ellie!” Joel fussed. Even though he felt the same.

“No, it's ok. Like I said she’ll be fine without it…Do you want me to show you how to do it?”

Ellie nodded and listened intently to Amber's instructions.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

And just like that, the three of you were alone.

Joel stood still for a moment, then made his way over to your good side. He took your uninjured hand in his. He fixated on the blood and dirt beneath your nails. He wanted to clean them for you, he wanted to wipe every trace of yesterday from you.

Your hand felt warmer than he assumed it would and that gave him some hope. Even though it didn't seem like you were alive, you were.

Ellie was talking to you while pumping at the precise interval she was taught. Telling you how thankful she was that you were ok and what all you were going to do together when you got out of here.

But Joel found that he couldn't speak. In fact he couldn't think of a single thing to say to you except I love you. And he wasn't going to keep muttering that, he'd tell you when you woke. No, he found the idea of talking to you right now somehow wrong.

A few minutes later Maria and Tommy came to see you. Their visit was very short but they both told you how much you meant to them. Before they left they tried to get Ellie and Joel to go home and rest, especially Joel who was still wet and muddy, but Ellie just said ‘not a chance’ and Joel didn't even bother to respond.

The next day Maria had convinced Ellie that you weren't going anywhere and invited her to stay at her place. She knew that being in an empty home surrounded by your things must be hard. Ellie accepted, because that was what she was thinking as well.

Tommys battle was a little more challenging but he eventually got Joel to go home and shower and change. He still refused food but had gulped down three bottles of water.

Joel had not left you after that.

They stopped pumping air into you the following day. Though they still checked on your lungs with a stethoscope every couple of hours. Your breathing had improved dramatically and the doctor had decided to attempt a second surgery on your hand. It went well and she was able to repair more than she thought she'd be able to.

The day after that she decided that your lungs were strong enough and it was time to cut back on your pain medication, it was time for you to wake up.

On the third day since your injury you woke up.

There was nothing and then there was everything. You slowly blinked open your eyes and were at first very confused. You felt pain and then you felt a warmth in your hand. You lifted your head stiffly, looked down and saw Joel. He was almost half draped on the bed, your hand lovingly wrapped in his own.

He was breathing heavily, deep in slumber but you knew he'd want you to wake him. You opened your mouth to speak but not a sound came out. Your brows furrowed and you tried again…nothing. So you squeezed his hand.

He shot up immediately like you'd just pressed his power button.

He blinked a few times like he didn't trust his eyes.

‘Hi,’ you mouthed and smiled at him lovingly.

“Hi,” he said as warmth and disbelief filled his eyes. He held your hand to his chest and returned your smile.

He stood up suddenly, “They need to check you.”

You gripped his hand tighter and shook your head, ‘stay.’

“They need to make sure you’re ok baby.”

‘I’m fine.’

He choked out a laugh through his sudden relieved tears, “No, no you aren't.”

You frowned, was there something you didn't know?

“...but you will be.”

You sat back in relief, wincing as a pain shot through your side.

“Let me get somebody. You're in pain.”

You didn't let go of his hand, if anything you held even tighter.

He said your name to try and convenience you but first he needed to tell you something. “I- I love you. God, I love you.”

You smiled with tears in your eyes, ‘I love you too Joel.’

You had to stay in the hospital for another ten days. You felt dirty, miserable and restless but the pain was at times severe, so much to Joel’s disbelief you didn't really complain about having to stay. That worried him at first but he was also thankful because he wanted you there for however long the doctor felt you needed to be.

Your side still hurts, in fact it really hurts, each movement makes you gasp out in pain. Joel’s always there to help–it's sweet but at times a little suffocating. The swelling in your throat has gone away but you still struggle speaking. Your voice is hoarse it sounds like a croak, and so you stick to one word responses. You don't do much with your hand. It was the least life threatening of your injuries, though, it does secretly concern you a lot.

On the day Joel walked you home from the hospital the sky was baby blue and the sun was beaming brightly. It was a comfortably warm day which was special because it was normally much cooler around this time of year.

His arms were wrapped around you and it reminded you of a much scarier time about two weeks ago now. He didn't say much the whole journey, much too absorbed by similar thoughts.

He helped you up the stairs and when you entered your home you were flooded by the familiar comforting smell. It smelled of the three of you. You were so relieved to be back, for a while you weren't sure that you'd make it back.

The only thing missing was Ellie. You looked up at Joel and opened your mouth to ask where she was.

He read your questioning gaze effortlessly and before you could speak he said. “She's still at Tommys.”

You shook your head, though you'd be lying if you said it didn't hurt you a little. Home wasn't complete without her.

He led you to the shower and helped you bathe. He had Ellie pick you up some of your favorite soap the day before in preparation. It smelled of goat's milk, honey, and wildflowers. His touch was gentle but firm enough to feel like he was really cleaning you, which you were thankful for.

When his hand trailed over the green and blue bruise that still covered your side he sighed and carefully brought your body to his. He pressed his forehead to yours and shut his eyes. Water trailed down his wet hair and ran down your body. Your good hand caressed the back of his head and you shifted, lifting up to give him a kiss on his beautiful lips.

You looked up at him and it almost ended him. You were here in his arms, kissing him, smiling at him.

“Joel.” You were proud of how composed that sounded.

His hands caressed your face lovingly and he kissed you again, much firmer but not at all rough. He lifted his head and looked into your moisture filled eyes and said softly, “I love you.”

He washed your body twice, thoroughly. Not just because he loved the feeling of your soft skin, but because he knew that you had felt disgusting after not being able to for so long. He wanted to make sure that you felt pristine.

He asked if you were hungry and you nodded no that you werent, which was true. You were just physically tired, this was as much as you've moved in awhile and your body wasn’t used to it.

“Cold.” You whispered into his ear as he was placing one of his shirts over your head. You weren't really cold, after the shower you were actually quite warm, you just wanted to be in his arms.

Your breath hitting his neck made him shudder involuntarily. “I got you.” he whispered back.

He picks you up slowly, careful of all of your injuries and carries you down stairs and lays you on the ground in front of the fireplace. Then he gets all of the pillows and blankets he can find and makes a comfortable nest around you. He builds the fire and lights it and then lays down beside you, bringing your good side firmly to his. He sighs contentedly as you lay your head on his chest and he presses his nose into your hair inhaling your scent.

“This is what I’ve been wanting.”

“Fire?” You messed with him.

He chuckled. He felt all of the stress begin to leave his body for the first time in fourteen days. His shoulders lowered in relaxation and the lines on his face softened.

“You. You’ve been what I’m wantin’.”

You looked up and demanded the words to come out. “You have me.”

He kissed your forehead and snuggled back into you. His eyes closed quickly and before you knew it he was sleeping soundly.

You weren’t really tired, not mentally at least. You did feel incredibly content though. His breath and the crackling of the fire soothed you and despite the dull ache in your hand and side, you felt ridiculously comfortable.

You shifted slowly so that you could look at him. He looked so at peace, your guardian angel—your protector—your love. You were filled with so much affection that your chest ached.

Everyday since your injury you often found yourself thinking about what he went through to get you home and what a lonely hell that must have been. It wasn’t completely your fault but you still felt incredibly guilty about it. He saved you, and one day if you were ever put in the situation, you hoped that you could save him in return.

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

[dire-vulture]

(tomswifty-fr) 🍐 🍒 🥑 !

🍐If you had to narrow down your clan into 2 movie genres, which genres would you pick? (Ex: Action/Adventure, Romance/Comedy, Horror/Drama, etc)

oooh tough. in my head i always just say Slice of Life but that's not exactly a movie genre fdgsfd

I'd say Comedy for sure. to be honest the Florabrisa movie I've dreamed in my head stars Ricotta, Moraine, and Ingot for a fun ladies week out omg..in that specific case, I guess the second genre would be Adventure? i'm not great at movie genres tbh but like the gist there is they go on a sightseeing journey through Wind because it turns out Moraine, despite being a Wind dragon, has never really ventured out of her small world in the Millmeadows (and the occasional family reunion in the Snowquall Tundra) and Ricotta and Ingot are like..girl you have to At Least see the Twisting Crescendo. So they treat her to a surprise adventure for her 49th birthday which Moraine has been on edge about because her dad died when he was 49 so the numbers feels kind of tragic to her, but Ricotta mistakes it for Moraine being worried about aging in general fdgsdf

I guess that's not actually about my clan itself though,, Maybe Comedy/Romance? romance isn't the specific focus but there sure is a lot of it dfgsdf peace and love and dragons on sornieth

🍒What’s your best tip on making a lore clan?

honestly..just have fun with it c:

but omg something i've noticed that i do that others sometimes don't is like, I try to think about what roles would need to exist in the community and then fill in those gaps. Especially if you have a lot of dragons that don't have lore yet, it's really helpful to start asking yourself things like "who's teaching the children in the clan and what are they being taught?" "where do they get their food from, what kind of food do they have?" "is there anyone in the clan who can make [item i want my dragons to have]?"

Even searching for accidental blind spots with existing lore can help like, I remember at one point i realized, for all the couples that existed in my clan, only a few were actually married and they were pretty much exclusively my m/f couples with kids, which was weird and unintentional. so i started looking through my other couples to see whose relationships seemed serious/long term enough for marriage, or which dragons with long/serious relationships would opt to not get married, and why might they feel that way. i think that sort of thing is just a good way to flesh out a community and make it feel more like the dragons there are actually living and working together c:

🥑Show off your most underrated lore dragon, and talk about them!

um. is it fair to say Clash now fdgsdfg you can see the previous ask for her omg

thank you @tomswifty-fr :D!!

[ask-e123-omega]

(//OOC: The friend of mine that inspired me to run this ask blog recently filled out a character questionnaire for the character she plays, and it was such a damn good questionnaire that I just had to fill it out for Omega. Long post beneath the cut of me dumping my headcanons for this robot:)

How aware is your character of their thought processes? Do they think about why they do what they do (however accurately)? Do they care about self-analysis?

Ooh, complicated question, since Omega can look into his own memory banks and literally review his own thought processes on a whim. But does this mean he's good at it? Not really. Upon reviewing an impulsive decision, he's more likely to remark "RAGE PROTOCOLS WERE RUNNING AS NORMAL" instead of sitting down and puzzling out why he was so enraged and how it affected the outcome of his decision.

That being said, he's all about self-analysis. He's constantly reviewing old data to try and gain an edge over his enemies. He's just terrible at admitting when he's made a mistake, so he doesn't really learn from it.

Is your character more likely to think they can overcome something even when they can't or to feel helpless even when they aren't?

This overconfident motherfucker thinks he can solo the entire Eggman empire on an average day, so take a guess.

But when everything's on the last straw, it isn't always ego that convinces him he can overcome the impossible. It's also a steely determination, a sort of "I have to do it or I die. There is no other option," if you will. When failure is not an option, he simply erases it from his processor. He's similar to Sonic in this regard.

What's one thing they're overconfident about? What's one thing they're under-confident about?

Overconfident about? It would be intuitive to say "his abilities", but that's actually not the case. He is a scarily competent killing machine. What he's actually most overconfident about is his strategic planning. He's the Ultimate Robot: Of Course He Can Succeed In Any Tactical Situation, so he clearly doesn't need to think about setting himself up for success before engaging. You don't need to reposition if there's no more enemies left to force you out of position. You don't need to hide if there's no one left to see you. Right?

Underconfident about? His social skills. He considers his skill with people to be barely passable enough to get him where he needs to be, but he can be more charismatic than he realizes. He's got a higher understanding of cognitive empathy than he thinks he does due to his observational tendencies.

How aware of and in control of their physical presence are they? Could they ever be caught with their clothes inside-out or spinach in their teeth? Do they ever stop paying attention to where they're walking or hit things when gesturing?

Omega used to be terrible- constantly crashing into things, crushing furniture, etc. Spending the first year or so of his life locked in a cramped basement left him unpracticed with movement. Not only that, but the world outside is so much more fragile than he is. It took him time to learn the strengths of common household materials and the height/width tolerances of things like doors. Nowadays, he's pretty good with spaces he's familiar with. Put him in an environment he's never been in before, like a grandmother's house or something, and he might start running into and breaking things again.

As for hygiene stuff, he's pretty on top of it. He's got sensors all over his body, including his blind spots. Shadow tried to stick a note on his back once. It didn't work- he detected it immediately.

How good are they at accurately assigning blame? Do they think everything is their fault? That nothing is?

Nothing is Omega's fault, ever.

With exactly one exception: if avoiding blame would make Eggman look more competent. If Eggman got away because he missed his shot, he'll begrudgingly admit he missed his shot rather than make up anything outrageous to justify how Eggman avoided it.

(He'll be pissed at himself for weeks afterwards, of course.)

Name something from your character's past that affects their behavior now in a way they don't realize and something that affects them in a way they do realize.

Omega can't stand being alone, especially in rooms with the door closed. He can do it if he's got a distraction, such as a videogame, but even then he'll still leave the window open to hear the sounds of people from outside. This is directly because he spent the first year of his life trapped in the same room alone. He has no idea that he's this sensitive about it and will deny it if someone pointed it out.

The part of his trauma that he does choose to acknowledge and externalize is the obvious one: he hates his creator and goes out of his way to disrespect him every chance he gets.

Does your character overcompensate for anything?

His whole "Ultimate Robot" schtick is to overcompensate for the fact that he was discarded by his creator. If he's the best at what he does, then no one will ever throw him away ever again.

Does your character believe they're chronically lucky/unlucky? Why?

Chronically unlucky. Eggman always seems to get away. His inferior robots keep coming. Could this be because Omega isn't strong enough to take them on alone? No, Never! It's because of the mistakes of others or just plain bad chance, that's all!

Does your character have an inner monologue? Are their thoughts about themselves more frequently positive or critical?

Nope, no inner monologue, but you bet that his post-action reviews are nothing but complimentary about himself unless he physically malfunctions.

Are there any values or beliefs your character espouses but doesn't live up to?

Omega has stated since day one that he's superior to organic beings due to being a robot. . . but he doesn't exactly believe it anymore. His respect for certain organics has debunked that line of logic, though he's too prideful to admit it now.

How good at reading people is your character, usually? Do they think they're better or worse at it than they are?

He's actually pretty damn decent at it, especially when it comes to his teammates. He's one of the few people on the planet who could have a good guess at what's going on in Shadow's head at any given time, for one. While organic social/emotional cues weren't intuitive for him, he learned them by doing "post-action" reviews for any social interactions he had. Combine this with a flawless memory and a willingness to research anything he gets stuck on, and he's got more capacity for that sort of thing than you might expect from a killer robot.

Of course, he doesn't value this skill nor advertise that he has it, so he thinks he's worse at it than he actually is.

(So why'd he bother learning? Initially, it was to understand Eggman to be better at killing him. Then it morphed into a desire to understand and eventually take care of his organic teammates, though he'd never admit that straight.)

What sorts of things does your character use to evaluate someone they've just met—clothes, looks, attitude? Is there anything (besides bad behavior) that will give them a kneejerk dislike of a stranger? A kneejerk affection?

Physical aptitude. Omega is quick to categorize organics into "pathetic civilians" or "potential assets" based on muscle mass, how many weapons they have, etc. (Other robots don't get the privilege of categorization- they're labeled "inferior", regardless of traits.)

Kneejerk dislike is, of course, if the person makes any sort of respectful/complimentary statement about Eggman, even if unintentional. Other kneejerk dislikes include people who suggest diplomacy as a solution to any problem.

Kneejerk affection is if the person is capable of mass destruction. With weapons or superpowers, doesn't matter.

Would you say your character is too trusting, not trusting enough, or juuuust right?

Not trusting enough. He assumes that everyone other than himself or a tiny handful of his friends are incompetent idiots who can't be trusted with anything. He's very guarded with strangers even after they prove their worth.

How susceptible is your character to perceiving or treating others like surrogate parents or children (or some other specific familial role)? Why?

Not at all! The only concept of "family" he has is from Rouge and Shadow, and he only know of that term because those two use it sometimes. He doesn't understand why such a designation would matter, what difference being a "family" might make versus just being close to someone.

Can they easily tell when someone is hitting on them?

Nope! He'd conflate any flirting attempts with Rouge's typical "flirty" banter, which she does platonically. Not that he's ever been hit on before. It'd be funny as hell to see someone try.

How sensitive are they to passive aggression or backhanded compliments? Do they ever read too much into things?

It's a 50/50 shot if he notices the passive aggressiveness from someone (higher if it's Shadow or Rouge), but if he does, he gets irritated about it. He'll tell the offending person that they're a coward for not stating their problem with him directly. (He will never employ passive aggressiveness himself unless being directly aggressive to someone will severely hinder him from achieving his goals- the GUN director has been on the receiving end of many half-assed tasks and disinterested "AFFIRMATIVES".)

He takes backhanded compliments completely straight- "thank you" and all. He loves frustrating people by giving off the impression that he doesn't recognize the back-handedness.

Does your character project anything in particular onto other people—thinking everyone is scheming because they're always scheming themselves, for example?

If you squint, Omega projects his own sense of individuality onto people. He believes that he is more different and unique from everyone else than he actually is. . . and that other people find each other similarly unknowable.

Are the standards your character holds other people to higher, lower, or equal to the standards they hold themselves to? Do they notice that?

Omega holds others to an equal standard as he does himself. . . the problem being that he's holding organic people up to robot standards. He expects everyone to have superhuman pain tolerance, catastrophic destructive capabilities, and utter determination to accomplish the mission, because he'd expect no less of himself.

Is this still incredibly self-centered and a dick move? YES. Is this toxic and harmful to both himself and everyone around him? Absolutely. Does he realize that he's doing this? Not really! He's not reflective enough to realize that he bases his standard of competency on his own expectations for himself.

How noticeable is your character? Do they stand out or fade into the background? Is that intentional or innate?

Omega's an absolute standout. Being a sentient war machine tends to do that, but it's also very intentional. He speaks loudly and often. He interjects himself into conversations, providing opinions that were unasked for. He moves with vigor and gusto. The last thing he wants to be is ignored.

What's the first thing they want other people to notice about them? Is that what most people actually usually notice?

He wants other people to see that he's a large, dangerous, competent killing machine, and he will viciously defend this image. This is indeed the first thing people notice due to both his frame and his efforts.

Besides just being more formal in formal settings, do they ever change how they behave around specific people? Is it on purpose? What happens if they're in the room with two of those people at the same time?

When he's around organics that he's used to seeing often, such as the regular GUN grunts, or especially his teammates, he tends to relax the effort of keeping up his reputation. He gets a bit softer, a bit more understanding, though it takes a trained eye to spot the change. It also means that his mischievous streak comes out, and there's nothing he loves more than subverting the expectation that he can't be funny. This is on purpose. In his mind, he's already proved that he's the "Ultimate Robot" to these specific meatbags, and therefore doesn't need to expend as much effort to keep them convinced.

If anyone else is in the room, though, he's back to trying to dominate every social interaction to prove that he's superior.

Does your character wish people perceived them differently than they do? Do they have any qualities they wish got more recognition? Is there anything about your character's background or personality that they try to hide but can't?

He HATES being perceived as nonsentient. However, even that's preferable to being perceived as an "Eggman Robot", a title he can't seem to outrun no matter how hard he tries. The decision to keep his paint job the same red-and-yellow as most other Badniks was not a decision he made lightly; he figures that instead of changing it, he'll simply eliminate all other Eggman robots with the color scheme until he's the only one left, making it so that the colors will be associated with only him.

As for what he'd like to get recognition more often, he'd appreciate being seen as competent for once. He's not blind to the way everyone assumes him to be a liability on missions just because he doesn't do stealth or subtlety.

Does your character come across the way they intend to come across—cool when they're trying to be cool, intimidating when they're trying to be intimidating—or is there a mismatch?

There's a pretty clear match, if only because his goal is to seem brusque and intimidating at all times, even when he's being more caring. The only time there's a mismatch is when he's doing so deliberately for the purpose of humor, and that mismatch will always be "coming off way more intense than he actually means to be".

If someone hated your character for no apparent reason, how would they take it? Would they try to change their minds? Could they live without knowing why?

Omega would wear it as a badge of honor and brag to everyone about it. . . but he'd be absolutely unable to live without knowing why. He wants to make sure you're hating him for the right reason (his personality) and not for the wrong reason (being built by Eggman).

What if someone openly adored your character for no apparent reason? Flattering or uncomfortable?

Finally, someone who appreciates the Ultimate Robot! That person would get 'favorite meatbag' status.

[cycle-verse]

Later that day, Ink and Error were curled up on the couch, watching a movie with the kids.  They’d been loving on each other since that morning, which was a common occurrence, but right when Eeror went to kiss his head, his entire body tensed. “Without scaring the kids, we need to get outside. Someone’s messing with the dome.”

Ink opened his eyes, looking up at Error, before glancing over at Stain.

Stain was entranced in the movie, eyes focused purely on what was happening on the TV, Picmalaho in his lap.

Ink nodded, moving to stand and look at Gradient to see if either of them noticed.

Gradient hadn’t noticed either although he looked half asleep, cuddled between the blues.

He moved to leave the house, hopefully with Error following.

Error did follow, trying to be quiet and unnoticed.

Ink quickly closed the door behind them before looking for wherever the dome was being messed with.

It was Malevolence, tearing through the string in a blind rage.

Ink seemed upset at that, but moved to undo his sash, ready to fight Malevolence once again.

“Seriously? That took SO MUCH energy out of me to make!” Error complained

Ink shrugged a bit, giving a strong flap to land near where Malevolence was tearing through it.

“You’re tricky, aren’t you? Can’t just make things simple for me?” Malevolence snarled.

"Of course not, what idiot would do that?"

“An idiot who wants to make their time easy and painless,”

"And if they have a firm belief that you won't be able to beat them?"

“Then maybe they fix their mistakes,”

Ink scoffed a bit, pulling out his hatchet to fight.

Error sighed.

“Please don’t chop through the strings Inky. They’ll move for you,” he whispered

"I'm gonna chop him, not your strings, Ruru."

“Good… then chop away,” Destroying his strings like that just tended to hurt

Ink quickly dashed for Malevolence, aiming a slash for his ribcage.

Error worked on fixing the damage Malevolence had caused, knowing that if he tried to help Ink, he might get in the way at the moment.

Ink’s main goal was to knock Malevolence away from the dome, to a better spot to fight.

It was working, and Error worked on fixing the dome.  He’d help Ink after that

"I told you to stay away-" Ink sliced his hatchet at Malevolence's chest.

“And I thought you were smart enough to know that that won’t work.”

"I don't care- why won't you?! Stain isn't yours!"

“If he isn’t then I’ll need a new heir,”

"Well, you won't find one here-" Ink threw his hatchet at Malevolence.

Malevolence sidestepped the hatchet and smirked. Error, who had just gotten to Ink's side, froze. “No,”

Ink gritted his teeth, seeming ready to just fist-fight Malevolence.

“Oh Error-“

“Absolutely not,” Error lashed out with his strings and summoned one of his blasters. “Leave,”

"You aren't welcome here-"

“Oh, I think Error would welcome me once I get my heir-“ A blaster went off, a string blast from Errors that Malevolence dodged.

"Just shut up already-" while Malevolence was distracted, Ink went to slam his shoulder into his chest.

Malevolence stumbled back, grabbing onto Ink's wing for stabilization before realizing what he had in his hands.

Ink quickly tried to tug his wing out of Malevolence's hold.

When Ink tugged, Malevolence got an idea and wrapped a few tentacles around his wing, giving it an experimental pull

his wing would've torn in two with some sickening cracks of bone. Malevolence easily broke it, though he wanted more than just a break. He wanted to destroy the wing and he did so before disappearing, knowing that it would be a lot easier battle next time.

Ink was left in pain, even without his paint, blood dripping from the remnants of his wing as he silently tried to handle the pain.

“Shit! Ink!” Error, who had stumbled back and partially crashed after he sent off the blaster, yelled

"I'm fine- I'm-" Ink stumbled toward Error a bit. "I'm- n-not-"

Error caught him and wrapped his arms around him, pulling Ink back into the dome and attempting to drag him into the house before giving up, just hoping Dream and Cross were awake in their room so it wouldn’t just be the kids, “HELP!”

Ink gritted his teeth against the pain, moving to unwrap his scarf to try and tie around what was left of his wing.

Cross heard them and came running outside, followed by Stain, who looked terrified

Ink held onto Error for support, his wing still dripping blood.

Error cradled Ink close as Cross cursed and ran back inside. “I’m getting materials-“

“Get Gradient too… he knows how to better tend to wounds,” Stain whispered, trembling

"F-Feeling lightheaded-"

Error had been trying to put pressure against Ink's back while he held him but it wasn’t doing much, “I know, I know… Cross is gonna come soon to help,”

Ink nodded a bit, leaning heavily against Error.

Error curled around him until Cross came running back out.

At some point, Error crashed out of worry for Ink, and Ink could only wait for Cross and Gradient to fix him up.  He relaxed a bit when they finished.

“Finally,” Cross whispered as the bleeding finally stopped. Gradient began to cry, no longer pushed by adrenaline.

"Th-Thank you..."

“Of course,” Cross whispered as he wrapped an arm around Gradient to try and comfort him

Ink was waiting for Error to be ok again, more worried about him than himself.

Error was more worried about Ink and once he was back, he looked down at Ink. “Inky? Are you okay?”

"I a-am now..."

“Good, good,”

Ink leaned more against Error, "I'm sorry..."

“For what?”

"B-Being stupid..."

“You weren’t stupid, Inky,”

"You're s-sure...?"

“Of course.”

After a few minutes, Cross sighed, “We should move him inside but the bleeding stopped so he should be okay.”

Error didn’t exactly like letting Ink go but he did, watching as Cross carefully carried Ink inside.

“I got the kids up to the safe room, that’s what took me so long,” Gradient whispered.

“That’s ok, baby…” Ink curled up once he was in bed, trying to ignore the pain.

Error reached for and kissed the back of Ink's hand, “Do you want me to grab you something for the pain?”

"P-Please..."

Ink buried his face in his pillow as Error got up, but sat up a bit when Error came back with a cup of water and some painkillers.  After taking them, Ink laid back down, ready to sleep.

Error sat beside him.

“I was gonna ask you to marry me tonight…” he whispered as he curled next to Ink. “I still want to obviously… but I can’t do it like I planned,”

"You just did... and I'd love to..."

“I’m glad… I love you Inky…” Error didn’t have a ring or anything, just a smile

"I love you too, Ruru..." Ink had his own soft smile as he looked at Error.

Error kissed his head and hugged him as close as he felt safe doing

[inkedlatte]

1 - A Reckless Reunion, Run-Ins with Nemesis, and the Unfortunate Fainting Spell

Continue reading on: Our Revenge

**Present**

Don't look back, don't look back! 

Winter chanted, her heart pounding as her feet hit the ground. If it weren't for the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she would've been long gone by now—most probably, she would've been dead. All she had to do was keep running and not glance back. Fear clouded her mind, and her heart raced at a mile per second; she hoped she was running that fast too. Winter had to put as much distance as possible between herself and the monster behind her, who seemed to be closing in.

As she rounded the eerily silent street, Winter spotted an alley that seemed to offer her the only escape in this life-and-death chase. However, the opening to the alley was pitch black. There were no illuminating street lights to guide her, and the moon was hiding behind clouds, as if the universe itself was conspiring against her on this fateful night. With a moment of hesitation, she plunged into the darkness, which seemed more daunting than the monster behind her.

If I make it through this alive, I'll give up pizza. Winter vowed to herself, cringing at the thought as if she'd considered something cruel. 

She trudged and traipsed along the alley as the sound of footsteps faded, sighing in relief when they could no longer be heard. That had been a close call; one mistake could have led her to being caught and killed. And she certainly didn't wish to be killed by these ruthless monsters.

Ah, how does one even begin to describe those creatures—appearing human but devoid of humanity. One could mistake them for ordinary people, but a close-up of their black, soulless eyes would have anyone running from them. These monsters weren't born; they were made, crafted to do the dirty work of 'The Gang.'

'The Gang,' how original. One might think a group of deranged, wannabe teenagers had gathered, thinking they were 'cool,' and named themselves 'The Gang.' But that was far from the truth. 'The Gang,' which sounded clichéd and cheesy, was probably the most terrifying thing about the town she fled from.

In the past, 'The Gang' had been Winter's safe haven, a place where she could truly be herself without judgment. It was once a place where she had found love, but now, the memories she conjured up were none of peace; they were memories laced with poison. The place itself had become a poisonous trap, and Winter had been their prey—lured in by promises of affection and love.

Maybe, if she had listened to her mind and not her heart, she would've avoided falling hopelessly in love. Maybe. Such a strange word. A word of hope and fear, and yes and no, and goodbye forever. Sometimes and never and always and forever. The constant wondering and whispering, and a blisteringly vague answer. Too vain to give a 'no,' but not clearly optimistic enough to say yes. Neither positive nor negative, neither up nor down, or anything specific. Just 'Maybe.'

In the end, all she got was more pain and scars, which turned into relentless nightmares. That's what you get for trusting like a naïve fool, easily persuaded by the lure of power. Winter used to rule 'The Gang,' all high and mighty. Power was all it took for the 17-year-old Winter to go against her conscience and partake in 'The Gang's' treacherous acts without questioning. Why would she question it when she could easily relish in the glory and luxuries?

Being 'worshipped' by 'The Gang' had blinded her, never looking beyond the glory, until it was like crashing from a 10-storey high building. That was when Winter finally realized what 'The Gang' did as their 'business,' something she had been curious about but didn't mind not knowing because, after all, it didn't matter. Well, it did, and when the hallucination wore off, when reality became crystal clear, she made a run for it—leaving everything behind and hoping to get as far away from them as possible. 

The skills and tactics she had learned from 'The Gang' had kept her alive, kept her our of their reach. She had trained to be a prodigy fighter but was also taught that defending and striking were the last moves, to be used only when there was no way to escape. Running had to be the first instinct if you wanted to save your ass. It wasn't looked down upon as cowardice but as the first rule to follow when danger struck. Oh, the irony. An irony she wasn't enjoying at all.

Winter had returned to her hometown to complete her senior year and, hopefully, be forgotten by 'The Gang,' which now seemed unlikely. Stupid of her to think they'd let her live after she knew their darkest secrets. Stupid of her to come back to town and put her family's lives in danger. How could she have been so naïve? 'The Gang' had eyes and spies everywhere. Even though she kept her distance from her parents and lived on her own, only occasionally visiting them to annoy her dad by trying to persuade him to buy her a car (which, of course, was unsuccessful due to her history of 'crimes'), 'The Gang' could easily find her. Winter's parents had given her permission to live alone after a bit of persuading, maybe understanding the underlying sense of danger behind a teen's whiny pleads, but if she had also been awarded with a car, she wouldn't have been running for her life tonight.

Breathing heavily, spots clouding her vision, and with nausea threatening to rise up the contents of breakfast and lunch, Winter finally gave up running and began a fast-paced walk. She could see a streetlight in front of her and rushed toward it, relieved to be out of the shadowed alley.As soon as she rounded another corner, she crashed into a pole—or at least, that's what she thought. Still feeling a bit light-headed from the chase, she tried to focus and realized that it wasn't a pole she had collided with; it was a person. A person who felt as hard as a metal pole. Suddenly, fear gripped her.

What if it's one of the monsters from 'The Gang'? 

She took a few steps back from the stranger and smiled in relief. Even though she could barely make out his features under the dim streetlight, she was sure he wasn't one of the monsters; otherwise, she would've been shot or strangled by now. Winter's smile turned goofy as she realized she was no longer in danger. For now. Then, the stranger took a few steps towards her.

"Sparkles?" He asked, bewildered.

That goofy smile turned into bewilderment as she recognized the stranger.

"Stoner," she exclaimed.

Out of all the people she could've crashed into, it had to be Chace Stone (a.k.a Stoner), her long-lost nemesis.

And then, if that wasn't the worst part, she fainted.

Right into her nemesis's arms.

It definitely wasn't Winter Spark's day.

~~~~~~~~~~~ Continue reading on: Our Revenge

[venus-vampire]

𝙿𝙰𝙲: 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚢?

Tarot collaboration with @daarlingdatura

From left to right: pile 1, pile 2 and pile 3.

𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔢 1

This pile could struggle with shoving themselves into societal molds and boxes in order to have some sense of normalcy. They could feel like from a young age the ephemeral world has harassed them, you could be somewhat averse to the idea that you are psychic. You need to let go of societal standards and start using your gifts. It doesn't have to be for other people and can be solely for you. You might pride yourself on your practicality but you are burying your divine gifts in the process. Not everything is rational, that's just life. You might've been seen as bizarre or weird as children. You need to get in touch with your past and let go of the need to control. I feel like you guys get lost in details. By allowing your thoughts and feelings to flow freely you can begin to become more in tune with your venusian enery. I'm also envisioning laughter, so it could be like playing and joking around and expressing joy is part of it too. Get in touch with the element of water, releasing fear of your shadow self and flaws will really do wonders for your self expression. Like once you get rid of the idea that you're not allowed to fail or make mistakes you'll be golden. Stop depending on others to lead or guide you as well. Realize that you are the authority figure and your authenticity is your guide. don't be scared your intuition will do just fine

Pile 1, do you like pastel colors? Clothes with light colors? I feel like y'all have a water Venus (or Venus in a water house) but have troubles tapping into that venusian energy. Y'all may have had multiple incidents in which y'all chose not to listen to your intuition and gut feeling, only to realize it was true in the end.

the high priestess, the devil, the world  // 10 of pentacles, 4 of swords, 3 of wands // the magician, 6 of swords, the hierophant

𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔢 2

This is a beautiful pull honestly. To connect with your venusian side you need to connect directly to your Venus and femininity, pile 2. Connect to your inner creativity, how you nurture yourself, how you empress your feminine energy.  What does femininity mean to you? Don't be afraid to connect with others, have a self care day or spending money on something that you value. You can also try to connect with your venusian side dancing and listening to music that you enjoy, even if others find it weird. You are blind to the beauty within yourself, everyone has a venusian, loving side. You might protect your energy by putting shield around you because you were betrayed in the past, but emotions and feelings are an important side of any relationship. You need to learn to trust people and share how you feel, especially your friends and family. However, keep an eye on who you're letting inside and don't project your expectations on other people because you will end up feeling disappointed. Think who really deserves your time, energy and a spot in your life.

the empress, the lovers, knight of swords // 8 of cups, page of cups, the king of cups

𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔢 3

There could be a specific person or group of people in this pile that are hooked up on someone that doesn't love or like them back. I feel like getting rid of this person will be a new and beautiful journey for you. You are going to be in a long moment of solitude and it's going to bring out your inner and outer beauty. You're going to learn to control your thoughts and emotions and put the right energy and manifestations out there to bring in your desired reality. You could lose some friends or have some kind of debacle but I think people will support you from the sidelines and see the truth even if they might not say it out loud. Take your leave and walk away from these toxic spaces. I feel that this group is very multitalented and outgoing and can be a little too dependent on how others view them. By standing in your power and truth and cutting out the shitty people from your life you will thrive. You also need to stop trying to get the attention of people in passive ways. I feel like you need to be more forthright and let your actions speak for themselves. Good luck pile 3.

the fool, the hermit, the magician // the knight of wands, queen of pentacles, the ace of swords

[atsumiye]

um, wrong number?

summary: on a night out, atsumu manages to get his next flings number. written on a flimsy napkin, they scribble a cute “call me” and their number. however, the next morning atsumu realizes the last few digits are smudged. with his superb guessing skills, he manages to guess the last 3 digits….or what he thinks is the 3 digits. so what happens when atsumu texts y/n some raunchy messages? he gets called a pervert.

masterlist ll seven ll eight ll nine

“Eichi, keep an eye out. This place is packed and I don't want to be here longer than I have to.” Akiko says as she pulls out a compact mirror to check her makeup and hair. She pulls out her lipstick and glides it across her lips and smacks her lips together. Brushing her fingers through her hair to fix any stray strands, she slams the mirror shut before placing it back in her purse.

“I'm not leaving without his number.” She says as she turns her head to look at Eichi.

Eichi gives her a small nod as she stretches her neck to look above the large crowd and around the neutral colored restaurant, before she spots a flash of bright blonde.

“I think I see him, he's towards the back with a group of guys.” She points her finger in the direction as Akiko starts to walk to the back.

She plasters a large grin on her face before she giggles out an, “Atsumu!”. The players he's speaking to look at her before turning back to Atsumu. She places her hand on his shoulder and tilts her head to meet his eyes.

“Hello…” he mumbles to her while looking back to his teammates with a questioning look.

“How have you been, baby? You never texted me so I sent you a dm but you never responded.” She bats her eyelashes at him as she looks at his confused expression.

After a few beats of silence, Atsumu's eyes widen, “Oh yer Akizo, right?”

She huffs before fake laughing, “Close, Akiko.”

“But you do remember me after all? What happened to sending me a message?”

“Ah sorry, had some….issues with the number. It was good to see ya again I guess” rubbing the back of his neck, he nods his head before he turns back towards his team members. All his team members look between the two, angry that Atsumu might be causing more problems. He remembers how his PR team begged him to not cause anymore drama- that he argued he doesn't purposely start- before the start of the new season, so he chooses to ignore the girl hanging onto him.

And he can't ignore the way his heart feels a bit weird as his mystery girl pops into his head.

Akiko huffs and she clings to his arm and brings a hand to rest on his chest, noticing the way a few people begin to pull out their phones and whisper to each other. She leans into his ear as she whispers, “Your causing a scene baby, let's exchange numbers again hm? This time, you give me your number”, she pauses dropping the smile on her face slightly, “and I'll send you a text.”

He looks down at her before placing his hand out to grab her phone and type his number in. She grabs the phone back and says “Let me just make sure it's right” she types a quick message and hearing his phone ding, sighs in satisfaction. “Make sure to answer when I text.” She flashes him a small smile and walks away towards the exit, Eichi quickly bows her head towards the table as she walks after Akiko.

----------

“Oh yer Akizo, right?” You turn your head towards Atsumu's loud voice noticing a pretty girl start to cling to him. You tsk and look back towards the plate Osamu hands you.

Before you take it, Osamu looks down at you and says “It's been three weeks since he texted you right?” You nod as he continues, “You know, there hasn't been a single day where he hasn't talked about you. Don't be jealous.”

You gasp and give him a disgusted look, “I'm not jealous! He doesn't even know my name, I just think she's a bit...weird. And I thought that the name sounded familiar to the girl he was originally supposed to text. That's all.” You snatch the plate from his hand as he begins to smile. You roll your eyes as you walk to the table, “Jealous! That's ridiculous.” You shake your head before approaching the table.

------

As the last customer walks out of the door, Osamu points to the door and tells you to turn the open sign to close. Flipping the sign and pulling down the blinds you loudly sign, “You know Osamu, you may regret hiring me but I regret accepting the job. My feet hurt.” You begin to pout before Meian comes behind you and flicks the back of your head, “Stop complaining.” You bring your hand to place it over where he flicked you and stick your tongue out at him.

“Osamu, let me know what you want me to help with.” Meian says as he begins to yawn.

“No, go home. Not only are you tired but if you stay here you'll use it against me or ask for some of my paycheck or something.” You smirk at him as he and Osamu begin to laugh. “She's right Meian, I can drive her home.” Osamu tells him as he begins to pull out a bucket of water to wipe down tables.

“Fine” he nods towards Osamu before turning towards you, “Text me that you got home safe okay?” he pulls you into a hug before ruffling your hair.

You brush down your hair and nod with a grin. “Drive safe okay?”, he smiles as he yells out a ‘goodnight’.

You turn back towards Osamu to grab a towel to start cleaning, “Y/N, after you are done with the tables, just wait here for a few minutes. Atsumu is bringing extra products from the other restaurant so he might come in.” You smile and nod as you begin to to wipe everything down and Osamu walks into his office to close the registers for the night.

Twenty minutes later, the door opens revealing an annoyed Atsumu.

“Samu! The traffic was horrible, I'm never helpin' ya again!” he yells and you begin to laugh. He turns his head to you, “Yer Y/N, right? The new girl he hired.” You nod and you can't help the smile that grows on your face at the mere fact he has no idea, “Yeah I am, it's nice to meet you Atsumu.”

“Same here.” he places the giant box on the floor behind the register as he comes back out and stares at you for a few seconds. “Yer a girl right?” you look down at yourself and meet his eyes to say “Sure?”

He drags a chair across the floor and places it in front of you, sitting backwards on the chair.

“I've got a question for ya.” You nod, allowing him to ask.

“So, how would I get a girl to tell me who she is?”

“Sorry? What does that even mean?” you furrow your eyebrows trying to decipher what he is trying to ask.

“Basically, I'm texting this girl. She knows who I am because we got mutual friends or somethin but I don't even know her name. We have spoken every day for almost four weeks and I know nothing about her.”

Osamu walks out of the office towards the two of you smiling to himself, “You forgot the best part, Tsumu. Ya sent her a nude as yer first message to her.” You and Osamu laugh as Atsumu drops his head in his hands.

“I've told ya and her that it was a mistake. Plus she moved on from it.”

You smile at him as you say, “Well, maybe she will come around. Just be respectful of the boundaries she has set up. You skipped quite a few steps by sending a nude the first time you spoke, so be understanding of that. Who knows, maybe soon she will want to tell you who she is.”

Osamu widens his eyes before smirking, “Why Tsum, ya got a crush on her?”

You feel your face heat up as Atsumu looks at the floor. “Shut up, Samu!”

Osamu smiles looking at your reactions before he says, “Alright lets get ya home Y/N. Meian will kill me if I get ya home too late.”

You both begin to stand up as Atsumu says, “Thanks for the advice.”

“Anytime. I hope it works out for you guys.” You smile at him as you all walk out of the restaurant.

chapter eight- don't be jealous

riya's notes:

- i wholeheartedly believe that osamu doesn't talk with his kansai dialect until he gets around atsumu

- akiko did a lot of research into atsumu in the past few weeks, so she knew he probably wouldn't want a ton of people looking at him or to cause a scene

- y/n doesn't know if she likes atsumu, what she does know is that she cares about him a lot

- atsumu is currently planning ways to win his mystery girl over

- osamu knows his brother really well, he knows how he feels and he found it hilarious he was asking y/n how to talk to y/n....

- y/n texted meian right as she got home but he was already asleep

- pls let me know your thoughts <3333

taglist: @satorinnie @speakfrenchbetweenmythighs @tetsuhoes @namyari @tabipleats @yamstadashi @lilith412426 @haikyuuwifu @bakugouswh0r3 @royahllty @its-the-aerieljeane @schleepyflocci @riceballsandanime @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa @zukoslosthishonor @blueowl51 @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @windkages @unstaaableaf @sakusasimpbot @tsukkinginamo @starylust @crocigator @a-disappointing-teen-author @ysatrap @fuschiguro @sugabeaniee @art-junkie-13

[magicrowiswritingstuff]

"Sorry" - Din Djarin x gender-neutral!reader

Summary: Every night the pain in your soul becomes silent tears in your eyes as you cry yourself to sleep. 

Warning: heavy angst and sadness, that's it I think...

Category: angst, hurt/comfort

Words: about 2.500

Notes: This is part of @din-damn-djarin​’s song prompt writing challenge which I joined super late but at least I finished this fic hella fast. I was just so motivated. I chose Sorry by Nothing But Thieves. As a little extra challenge for myself I tried to incorporate some of the lyrics directly into the story... maybe you can spot them! Note 2: I will beta-read this tomorrow after I had a few hours of sleep so until then please just ignore any mistakes...

_________________________________    

"Sorry" - Din Djarin x gn!reader

After all these months, after all these small touches you couldn't help but imagine a future with him. You couldn't help but envision how everything would play out when you would confess your feelings to him.

After all these months you had finally realized what that fluttering in your stomach was, whenever Din brushed you lightly. The smallest touch was enough to make your heart throb against your ribs so painfully sweet. Heat rose to your cheeks whenever he lightly taped your arm or placed his hand on your shoulder to get your attention. They were only small touches, innocent and fleeting but they meant the world to you. When he soothingly rubbed your back or squeezed your hand you knew he cared. You knew he felt the same even if neither of you had said it out loud.

After all these months you two had grown more comfortable with the presence of each other. So comfortable, in fact, that somehow you ended up cuddled up on the pilot seat in his lap when you were exhausted after a day filled with running and shooting, more often than not. You had no idea why or how it started but you didn't care. You felt safe whenever he would wrap his arms around you and let you press your face between his helmet and neck. When he let you melt into his comforting warmth and forget the terrors of the day. You knew he cared when he held you tight, close to him and his racing heart that was beating just as fast as your own underneath his beskar and your fingertips.

After all these months you knew you loved him with all your heart. And you couldn't help but envision how it would be if he was yours. You couldn't help fantasize about the perfect future with him and the kid.

After all these months you had thought you knew how he felt for you, too. Maybe love had made you blind. Maybe you had just been naive and dumb. Maybe you had slowly lost grip on reality while being held by him, while being so close to him. Because reality came back crashing down on you when you had told him how you felt… and when he had told you how he didn't. 

"I'm sorry. I don't… I can't return your feelings."

_______________

The sudden distance was heartbreaking. You had gotten so used to his touches, his embrace, his warmth that the sudden loss laid heavily on your shoulders. With every step it pulled you further down, further into the spiral of hurt and pain. You couldn't look up at his visor anymore, your eyes always lowered when you where near him. Because even though he had broken your heart you couldn't bring yourself to leave. Even if every day reminded you of the pain, digging it's spikes into your heart, deeper and deeper with every passing day you spend on the Razor Crest, you couldn't bring yourself to leave him and the kid. You loved them both dearly and even when your feelings were unreturned you had a duty to fulfill. You had joined Din to help him with the kid and not to... fall in love. 

But when he sat like that before you on the pilot seat, his armor stripped off and his arm freed from his flight suit so you could stitch up the wound he couldn't reach on his own, you felt the pain even more prominently than ever before. Because this was the first time you saw him. This was the first time you saw the man underneath the armor, the gentle, honest man you knew… you thought he was. 

You couldn't raise your gaze to meet his blank visor anymore, you couldn't stand being close to him anymore. Because every fleeting touch felt like it burned you. Every touch seemed to laugh at you and your stupidity, laugh at how you could have ever thought you had a chance with him. The future you had envisioned had broken down around you and left you and your heart in tiny pieces. And whenever you tried to pick them up and but them back together, every time you tried to move on they just slipped past your trembling fingers. 

At night you laid wide away, staring at the ceiling from your improvised bed with tear filled eyes. Every night your thoughts kept circling around if it had been your fault somehow. At how you could have been so blind. Had you misread the situation so severely? Could you have been really so blind and dumb? Had all these nights in hyperspace spend tightly cuddled up on the pilot seat truly meant nothing to him? Every night the pain in your soul became silent tears in your eyes as you cried yourself to sleep. 

And now you had to pull all your strength together to push those tears back down, to not break down right in front of him. But when the touch of his uncovered skin slowly warmed up your trembling fingers and when you felt the pulsing of his heart in the vessels of his upper arm echo back in your own, it became impossible. Silently one dropped down onto your shaking hands as the rest began to cloud your vision. You quickly finished up his stitches and helped him back into his flight suit before you hurrydly closed the med kit and pressed it against your chest. You turned around to walk out of the cockpit but you had only took a few steps away when he reached out and curled his still gloveless fingers around your wrist, making your body freeze up. A soft whimper escaped your lips as your breath got stuck in your throat. You felt him tug at your arm ever so slightly, begging you to turn around and face him. But you couldn't. If you would turn around now you knew you couldn't hold back the wave of tears and the storm of emotions anymore. You knew you would break right there in front of him. 

"(Y/N)." 

You bit your tongue, trying to hold back the sob as the tears continued to cloud your vision. You pressed your eyes closed and begged yourself to hold it together, to not show him how much he had hurt you. But when you heard him stand up and softly turn you around to face him you knew you had lost the battle. You opened your eyes and looked up at him as the tears finally spilled over, as a broken sob finally tore through your throat, leaving you even more empty then you felt before when your eyes locked onto the void of his visor. You wanted to scream at him, tell him how awfully he had hurt you but all you could do was shakingly stand before him and press the med kit even closer against you, clutching onto it to seek some form of comfort you knew only he could give you. 

Din had been prepared for your rage, for angry words thrown against him but he hadn't been prepared for the heartbreaking sight as you broke down right in front of him. And all he wanted to do was pull you into his arms, wipe your tears away and whisper into your ear but he knew he had missed his chance when he had told you he didn't feel the same… 

"I'm sorry." 

His voice was soft and filled with regret-no, stop. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to remember why you were standing before him, crying your eyes out right in front of him. He had broke your heart. He didn't feel the same. There was no regret. There couldn't be regret in his voice it must have been something else. But then he repeated it. "I'm sorry" over and over again under his breath, his voice shaking. And you knew it was regret that made it shake with emotion. And you knew he meant it. You knew he was being honest. But all that didn't fix it, all that didn't make it any less painful. "Please, stop" you begged and tugged at his hand that was still curled around your wrist. Your voice sounded foreign, so unlike you, almost strangely heavy as you whispered those words. "There is nothing left to say." 

You freed yourself from his grip and took one step back, giving him one last, sad look before you turned around to walk out of the cockpit. Only for him to stop you once more. With his hands on your shoulders he turned you back around. And before you could realize what he was doing he had already pushed the med kit out of your arms and to the floor as he pulled you against him. His arms wrapped around your shoulders and back, they kept you pressed against his chest. He still hadn't put his armor back on so instead of the cold beskar you were used to you were pressed against the warmth of his skin from underneath the flight suit. The warmth you had missed and craved so much. The warmth that now felt like it burned you and it took everything in you not to hiss in pain. When your mind finally caught back on, on what was happening you immediately went completely rigid in his embrace. And when those words left the savity of his helmet once more you pushed against him, clawed against his chest to try and get away. "No!" you cried out loudly. "You don't get to break my heart and hug me later!" Another wave of tears crashed over you and another storm of emotions laced up your throat but you forced yourself to stay at the surface, to not get pulled down by the waves. "You can't do that!" you sobbed, not able to hold the words back anymore. "You can't make me believe you love me and then- I can't believe I was stupid enough to believe you might have really felt the same. I-" "Stop that, you're not stupid" he whispered. You wanted to say more but the firmness in his voice made you close your mouth as you stopped fighting against him. Giving up you let him hold you pressed against his chest. "You're not stupid." As new tears welled up in your eyes you slowly wrapped your arms around him, too. Ignoring that he was the source of your pain, ignoring that he was the one pushing those spikes into your heart deeper and deeper with every passing day. You ignored all that and instead let yourself melt into the warmth and comfort of his embrace you had craved for so long.

"You aren't stupid, you… I- I lied" he continued. "I do feel the same for you."

Your breath hitched in your throat but you kept your head pressed against his chest, too scared to look up and see that maybe everything was just a dream, that everything was just a figment of your imagination and broken beart. Surely you must have imagined his voice, his words. But then he repeated them. 

"I lied." 

"Why?" you asked before you could bite your tongue. "Why did you lie? Why did you do this to me then? Why?" your tears were audible in the way your voice shook and trembled and in the way you clutched at the fabric of his flight suit, seeking halt, seeking answers. Din sighed deeply, you felt his chest rise and lower slowly as you hugged him tighter. "Din, why?" "I-" he began, his voice trembling just as much. His heart was beating so heavily against his ribs you could feel it hammering against your own chest.

"I don't deserve you." 

You wanted to look up, you wanted to meet his visor again but he placed his chin on top of your head, forcing you to stay pressed against him with your head lowered. It felt like he didn't want you to see him right now, like he was afraid of your eyes. As if he was afraid to see agreement in them. "Din-" you began but he interrupted you by him continuing his explanation. "I'm not the man you deserve. You deserve better than me. Someone who's not as broken, not as defective, not… I'm not as good as you think I am." You wrapped your arms tighter around him as he began to shake and then furrowed your brows, somehow feeling angry that he would think that way about himself. "You arent broken and you aren't defective!" you began again, forcing your voice to sound strong and to blink the tears away. "You are a good man, Din." "I hurt you!" he objected and buried his fingers into the fabric of your shirt, seeking halt and comfort just like you. "All I wanted was to protect you from... me. But all I did was hurting you instead." For a few seconds you didn't say anything, your chaotic thoughts racing in your mind in circles again and again. This wasn't what you had expected when he had grabbed your wrist. And you had no idea what you were supposed to do now. You still felt hurt but the anger had vanished. But without the anger the pain just felt more present. And even though he had explained to you why he had done it... it would still hurt for a long while. The fact that he didn't feel like he deserved you, that he didn't deserve happiness was heartbreaking. 

"You did hurt me" you agreed truthfully as you swallowed down another wave of tears, putting on a strong face instead. "And I don't agree with the reason why but… it's okay." You slowly freed yourself from his embrace and took one step back. His arms were still loosely wrapped around you but his visor was lowered, staring at the floor instead of at you. "No, I'm not… it's not-" "Stop" you interrupted him firmly and then softly placed your hands on each side of his helmet, forcing him to look up and at you. When your eyes finally locked onto the blackness of his visor, on his eyes that were hiding underneath, you took a deep breath. "I decide who I deserve" you declared. "It's my decision who I give my heart to." Din nodded slowly in understanding while you collected all your strength for the next words you wanted to say. "You hurt me deeply." Din noticeably flinched at that but didn't speak up or try to move away from you. "But I'm ready to forgive you" you continued honestly. "I still feel the same, I still-" Your voice failed you, your throat hoarse and tired after all the crying but you forced yourself to carry on. "Are you ready to give us a change?" Din didn't hesitate one second, his ungloved hand shooting up to cup your cheek in a soothing manner. "Yes, I'm ready. I want this-" he faltered a bit and hesitantly wiped away the last traces the tears had left on your skin. "I want this if you want me?" "Maker, yes" you whispered breathlessly. You placed one hand on top of his that was still resting on your face, letting yourself really feel his skin for the first time. You felt the roughness of his hand, the little scars that littered the back of it. But all you could think about was how soft and gentle they were when he let his fingers slowly dance over your skin. How delicately he always touched you. But those small touches suddenly didn't feel enough anymore. Gently you curled your fingers around his and tugged lightly at them. 

"I've been waiting so long... I can't be patient anymore" you whispered and let your eyes flutter close before you placed his hand over them. The clutter of his helmet landing on the floor was left unnoticed when you finally felt his lips on yours.

_________________________________ 

Does the ending feel a little rushed? Maybe. Do I care? Nope.

_________________________________

Taglists:

Permanent Simps: @buckysalefty

Din Djarin Simps: @theflightytemptressadventure / @sarahjkl82-blog / @remmysbounty / @undeniableadrenaline / @kassidydjarin / @freeshavocadoooo / @dindaddy-ficrec / @wonderless-screwup / @helena-way07 / @n0ffitar / @24-blackbirds / @thethunderstormsgirl / @mylifeofcalculatedchaos / @mandos-co / @smoldjarin​

[taehyungsgrowl]

"because i dropped Duncan's hand while dancing left him out there standing" because "Nate's hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room."

(Ooop I don't know if I can request two but I thought a combination between these two might sound angstyyy. Otherwise you can pick just one 💋 - 🧁

i started working on the paper rings prompt the other day but i wanted to write something angsty so started this one instead fkjsfk

and youre right - this combination is breaking my heart! ily and i hope youre doing well!

changed the prompts a tiiiiny bit to flow w the story but its the same concept idea rather than the direct quote!

--

duncan should've know - should've seen the shift in the way she looked at him long before this moment. his love for her was always his biggest blind spot.

the soft glow of the twinkling lights that hung above their heads illuminated her skin and made the sequins on her dress sparkle like the stars.

duncan had set in motion the most perfect night to ask her to be his forever.

after dinner at her favorite restaurant on the pier, they walked hand in hand along the boardwalk. he felt the cool summer breeze hit his skin and was thankful for it. the nerves were making him run hot. he shrugged his blazer off his shoulders and placed it over hers to help keep her warm, leaving him in his crisp white button down. still too hot, he undid the top few buttons and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows in a poor attempt to feel the air.

they stopped at the end of the, overlooking the vast ocean. the depths of it couldn't compare to the depth of duncan's feelings.

he reached forward and brushed her face with his knuckles, taking in exactly how she looked in the moonlight - burning that into his permanent memories.

"y/n," he grabbed both of her hands in his. he felt his stomach twist and he took in a long, deep breath. "i've never loved someone the way i love you. you make me so happy. you make me a better man," he choked up, but attempted to cover it up with a laugh.

y/n could feel her pulse pounding in her ears. even in the soft lighting she could see the wash of pink over duncans cheeks. she knew where this was going.

her stomach twisted in knots for a completely different reason than duncans.

she felt her life had become mistake after mistake; snowballing beyond her control.

and even yet - she wasn't sure if she regretted what might have been her biggest one.

--

"this is the last time," she panted against his open lips. his hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer before trapping her lip between his teeth.

"that's what you said last time,"

she moaned feeling him press against her entrance.

she couldn't honestly and truthfully call nate a mistake - not when he was the one thing in her life that made her feel alive.

she loved duncan or at least she knew she was supposed to.

he was good to her; good for her.

at one point, he had been the one to make everything around her feel electric.

but as things got serious... as he began to love her, she started to feel like she didn't deserve that.

and maybe it was her self destructive tendencies to ruin a good thing that lead her into nate's arms, but it was the carnal desire and lack of feeling that kept her in them.

maybe nate's detachment mirrored her own so much she was drawn to it; maybe she used it as a distraction... a buffer... from allowing herself to be dug any deeper with duncan.

-

not even twenty-four hours had passed since her clothes were scattered on another man's floor with his hand in her hair and now she stood before the one who loved her - about to commit himself to her entirely... and she wanted to run away as far away as she could.

how could duncan really love her when he didn't know all of her?

duncan reached into his pocket and pulled out a gorgeous vintage ring. it had been in his family for generations; the marquis cut diamond was surrounded my smaller, but just as sparkly diamonds that sat perfectly symmetrical on a thin, solid gold band.

"will you do me the honor and make me the happiest man by marrying me? i promise to love you everyday past forever." he continued. she could almost hear his heart pounding in his chest, but maybe that was just the blood rushing to her own head.

he presented her with the ring, taking her hand in his to place it around her finger.

but she couldn't say yes.

not when she knew her problems would only bring duncan down.

not when she'd been doing the unthinkable to him.

she dropped his hand, shaking her head silently as tears streamed down her face. "i'm sorry," she managed to choke out before darting away.

as she sped down the pier, she recognized friends... family... his and hers... approaching. bottles of champagne and flowers becoming a blur as she ran faster - trying to get away from it all.

she left him standing there with all of his hopes and dreams.

a part of her wondered why he didn't run after her. maybe it was the shock. maybe he realized what she'd known the whole time - he deserved better.

she knew he'd find someone who would fix the glass she shattered.

with mascara running down her face, her finger hovered over nates number in her phone.

--

duncan was frozen. his whole world stopped in place the moment she dropped his hand.

suddenly his mom was standing in front of him, taking his face in her hands. he shook her off and kept his composure long enough to make everyone leave and give him some space.

he took a bottle of dom perignon from someone's hands before they left and sat down on the wooden platform, letting his feet dangle above the sea.

he took one long swig of champagne, feeling the bubbles pop on his tongue.

the rest of the night, he tortured himself, replaying every bit of their relationship wondering where he went wrong.

his mom stayed close enough to make sure he was safe. eventually she approached him again, taking the bottle away and leading him back to her car.

"guess i won't be needing this," he handed her the ring back as he stumbled into the backseat.

once in bed, he closed his eyes and saw the future he hoped for being licked away by flames in his dream.

--

i hope you like it babe!

taylor swift inspired prompts

[meenah-chan]

Quintessence

A Lucifer x MC's Over-protective! Sister fanfic

3.4k words

Genre: Angst

Trigger warning: use of violence; read at your own discretion.

Quintessence

(noun.)

purest essence of a thing.

the intrinsic and central constituent of its character

most perfect embodiment of something

“She is my greatest treasure. If it is for her safety and happiness, I'd gladly sell my soul without any regrets.”

“.. I'm certain you're the most capable for the task and no one else.”

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

A refined silhouette of a ginger-haired female emerged from a black Bentley. With a cold breeze welcoming her, the silky-smooth hands instantly felt cold. Her pale cheeks redden as she puffed out a white mist. Trailing down the cold pavement as she left the parking lot, with only the moonlight as her guide. But the freezing darkness of the night is the least of her concern.

Despite working for two straight days, exhaustion doesn't bother her, for she is brimming with pure delight and excitement.

A week worth of work is done. Now I can spend another 5 days with her... Smile was plastered on her face and warmth enveloped her chest.

It's been 2 weeks since MC, her sister, returned for the wedding of their parents and decided to stay at her place. She should have gone back to her school dorm abroad a week ago, but chose not to. It is slightly since it is semestral break in her school but mainly due to a quarrel between her and 'the Mammon' or whoever he is. Apparently, he used her debit card without permission and withdraw big time only to lose all the money to his compulsive gambling.

"What a total jerk..." Is the only thing that left her mouth when MC told her about the issue. But oh well... Thanks to that fiend, I'm able to spend longer time with my ball of sunshine...

Grinning to herself, she reached the entrance of the apartment building only to be welcomed by the shivering back of a familiar white-haired, tan-skinned guy in brown leather jacket.

She only saw him once in a picture but there's no mistaking it.

"Excuse me mister, please don't block the way." It's the jerk, Mammon.

What a pain. I shouldn't have let him crossed my mind, then he might not have been here...

"Huh?... Oh, hey you. Do 'ya know the PIN number for this gate?" He arrogantly asked.

She just raised an eyebrow. "Why would I tell you?"

"Hey, watch your mouth human. I'm asking here nice—"

"You're Mammon, right?"

"Huh? How'd ya kn—"

"MC have no business with you. Leave before I call the guards."

"I'm MC's sister. Now if you excuse me." She passed by him and tapped her ID to the sensor to enter the building, only to be stopped by a firm grip.

"Stop interruptin' me! And who're ya? Ho—"

"Sister? My human have no sister..." He squinted his eyes, observing her. "You don't look at least alike! And why wouldn't she pick up her phone for 2 weeks already...? Don't tell me... You kidnapped her, don't you?!"

Her blood started to boil from his words. "Your... human? And you said you have no contact with her. How did you know she's here?"

"Of course through GPS, duh." Stating as if it's the most obvious thing to do, her thread of patience finally snapped.

"What...GP...S? You tracked my sister with GPS?! Are you out of your mind?! You demon..." She hissed, shaking his grip off her.

He reached to her shoulders and whispered to her ears, "I can kill you this instant, you kidnapper. So if you value your life, then scamper away. I'm taking my human." He stride pass her into the apartment but in just a few steps, he heard a beeping sound followed by the words, "MC, to the car! Use the emergency stairs, NOW!"

"Demon?" Yet, in response to her reaction, his eyes glinted as if having an idea. "Then what if I really am a demon?" Suddenly, a pair of twisted horns stuck out his head. Wings flapped on the small of his back. His clothes stupendously changed as he emits a bloodcurdling aura, instantly frozing her in horror.

And before he knew it, he was lying on the cold asphalt outside the establishment, holding to his horn and tail from the throbbing pain due to the back throw he barely comprehended.

Snapping a glare back up, he saw an ferocious aquamarine orbs of the lady.

A reaction he doesn't expect. And as if to shake his senses, he watched her tearing on the length of her deep blue pencil skirt up to her hips.

"Oi! Why are you stripping?! Are 'ya a pervert?!" What's she... No, that's not how humans strip, is it? Or does it? Why would she do that? Mammon is perplexed, flustered of the sight before him.

"Why would a demon dawdle around my MC...? What are you planning to do with her? You dare touch a single strand of her hair and I'll drag you to the pits of hell myself, you pervert stalker of a demon!" She snarled at the man on the floor, making Mammon's turn to feel infuriated.

"You..! You're getting into my nerves! That's it! I'mma shred you to pieces!" And he dash towards her.

Wrong move. Just a few inch of grabbing her, he met a heavy blow from her right foot to his gut, squeezing the air out of him. Before he could even recover, she followed with a left high kick under his chin. And then he realized...

Ahhh... So that slit is for a high kick...

Mammon flew, without even using his wings and plummet on his back, unconscious.

That'll... buy us some time. Ahh, right, MC. I should contact her. She should be on her way to the car already—

"Haahhh..." A sigh stopped her halfway her phone. A man clad in black long coat, with black hair parted to the right and ruby eyes emerges from the shadows. "Really... What a troublesome brother..." He mutters to himself, but enough for her to hear.

Brother... Another demon... She clicked her tongue. She knew her chance to escape is gone... but not her sister.

She clicked her speed dial and slid the device onto her right ear. But why? What did her sister to have a demon or two come claiming at her as theirs? Just why?

"MC, why... Ahh, no." It doesn't matter. Tothing matters right now but her beloved's safety. "There's a spare car keys under the car trunk cover. And please throw away your devices. Leave now. And please do not return to your school anymore. It's a dangerous place for you." Unlike before, calmness spread to the tips of her fingers. The only thing she needs to do is hold the bay until her sister leave the vicinity and find a safe place.

But this guy... He's different from the first one. It'll be tricky to hold him off. She scanned him on her peripheral vision.

"Hmm? Did you say MC? Do you perhaps, know her?"

"MC? Hmm... Well, do you?" She smiled at him as if nothing's wrong.

"MC is one of RAD students and an officer of the student council. She's also an important friend. Well, anyways. What happened to this guy here?" The black-haired man kicked the stray arm of Mammon, still in his demon form, to his chest.

"Him? Who knows? He's already here when I arrived." Her eyes smizes as her smile widens.

"He is? Maybe my eyes did fool me when I saw you throw and kick him."

"Yeah? All I said is he's here when I arrived. You did saw it, so why bother asking?" She chuckled at the man.

An amused smirk lines on the man's face. A glint of ominous energy dispersed in the air but didn't faze her a bit.

This causes a wider grin from the male. "Ohhh... You're quite interesting." It's first someone actually bite back at him other than his brothers—namely Satan and Belphegor, and a human woman who met him for the first time nonetheless. She even managed to withstand his intimidation with a smile.

"You knew who I am, do you?"

"Yeah, you're that thing's brother, aren't you? By the way Mr. Demon, I have a question for you." And she's completely aware what I am... Intriguing...

"What is it, Miss Human?" He narrowed his eyes, inspecting every movement her muscles make. Yet, in split second he is eyeing him, her smile suddenly crumbles into horror, which also appalled him.

What did she just realized I'm a demon..? No, she not looking at me anymore... He followed her line of sight and fall to one shadow a few meters behind him.

"Alexa, Lucifer... and Mammon?" A familiar voice rang, calling his attention. "What's happening?"

"MC... Hmm, So you're Alexa.." he returned his gaze, only to find the woman disappear from her spot. She stealthly dashed through his blind spot and hiding MC behind her.

"You hardheaded child... Why are you still in here?" She asked irritably, not removing her eyes from the threat in front of them.

"I'm worried! There seems to be a danger and as if I'm gonna leave you behind. You even said my school is dangerous." MC pouts. "So what's happening? And why is Mammon knocked out and in his demon—" she flinch from her own words.

"D–Demon cosplay!" She laughed nervously, slowly glancing to her sister, only to be petrified by her death stare.

"MC... You knew something about them, don't you?" Terrified, she shifted her gaze to the man in black. He raised an eyebrow, smirking in amusement.

"Lucifer! This is no time to make fun of me! Tell me what happened?"

"It's because of this idiot here," he kicked the demon on the asphalt again, "Taking off here, making trouble and misunderstanding. He even called Miss Alexa here your kidnapper and picking a fight."

MC sighed and glance back at her sister. The stern expression is not there anymore but she is clearly disappointed.

"I didn't inquire you of your sudden disappearance nor the transfer overseas since I know you don't want to talk about it. But I can't really ignore it anymore based on the current circumstances, so spill everything. I have the right to know, right Mr. Lucifer? Or should I call you Mr. Vice president?"

"Lucifer will do. Well, I suppose... Go on MC." Through his confirmation, everything is uncovered to Alexandria. From how she got in RAD, why she is brought there, the program she is undergoing and how her life goes in Devildom.

"What a troublesome program... Out of all the million students..." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

As MC finished her story, gloom filled her chest.

If only I knew that'll be my last day in Devildom, I should have— "Alright. She'll continue the exchange student program."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, confused of the older female's decision. "Hmm? Are you sure?"

"A–Alexa?!" MC gripped and shooked her sisters shoulders vigorously. "What? You'd rather not? Then that's more ideal."

"No! I love Devildom! I'd love to continue studying in RAD!"

"Hmm, figures." She ruffles the younger's hair. "But... I also have my conditions." She shifted her gaze to the demon in black.

"Let's hear it."

"First, I'll be going with her." She held the head of the younger sibling, "I can't ensure her safety if I just leave her in a place swarming of predators."

"That's acceptable. Diavolo's approval won't be hard on that matter. And... The next one is?"

"The final condition, I'll tell President Diavolo myself." Lucifer cocked an eyebrow.

"Come again? Why—"

"My sister's safety is on the line. I won't compromise for something less. Or if you want to end the exchange student program right here, I'm also fine with it." Ruby and Aquamarine orbs bores through each other—the prior one pulling out first.

"Alright, since I'm in no position to make a decision about it."

"Come on. Just let me change my clothes. I'll also prepare my things for a moment."

"Sis? You mean, right now? And change clothes... Ahh!! Your favorite skirt! What happened?!"

"Long story. Anyways, I want to settle this as soon as possible. And these two here came to get you anyways."

"I only came here to clean the mess this idiot made."

"Yeah, yeah. If you say so... Ahh, and call me Alexandria. Only my sister could call me Alexa."

----

They reached the Devildom few hours before the morning manifest. At the request of Alexandria, they went straight to Diavolo's residence, the Demon Lord's Castle.

"Welcome to Devildom, Alexandria. I am Diavolo. It's a pleasure to hear that a human like you wished to stay here."

"No, your Highness. It is of the greatest honor to meet a Crown Prince such as yourself, Master Diavolo." A deep curtsy from her gave Lucifer a pleased and impressed smile.

"Oh wow, as a human, I never thought you'd be well informed." Diavolo raised his eyebrows.

"Not at all, your Highness. I just figured it out along the way through your household." Her second statement astound the prince more.

"Amazing... What a curious person you are... Anyways, I heard your case from Lucifer. Tell me your second condition and I'll do my best to satisfy it."

"Then," she looked straight to his eyes, "I want you to make a pact with me," Everyone in the room but her and Diavolo froze from her statement.

"Wha—" MC wobbled on her feet.

"Wait a minute, you impud—" spite Lucifer, standing a few feet away beside Diavolo.

"—or that's my initial plan, but learning of your status in Devildom, that'll be a impudent request on my part." only to be cut off by her. "This concept of pact, it's similar to its meaning in the human world, I presume?"

"Hmm, yes it is, as far as I know." Replied the Demon Prince, serious expression now on his face.

"I see. Then, instead of your Highness making a pact with me... he might be more suitable for the task?" They followed her gaze not far off Diavolo and lands to the demon of pride.

He was repulsed of her sudden attention. "What did you say..?" His horns emerging, his set of huge, dark wings materializing. Despite having his respected Diavolo being beside him, he isn't called the Avatar of Pride for nothing. This shamelessness is just too much. "You, an insignificant human, wants to make a pact with me? Aren't you full of yourself?" Dark matter fill the atmosphere.

"Yes, well... I think a pact is a bit.." Diavolo winced.

"I know I'm asking for too much. But if I won't do this much, I can't protect her. I'm powerless against a demon."

"Hey stop there, human." The sin of greed butt in, "If that's yer' problem, then the Great Mammon here is already in pact with MC so this talk's settled." She looked at him for a second and squinted her eyes. "No, you won't do."

"You—"

"A demon who easily robbed her off all the money she worked hard on earning were definitely not cut to protect her, no– he's a threat to her well-being. Just any other demon won't also do. And this little girl is far too reckless to think of her own welfare. I can even imagine her throwing herself in front of raging demons." The little girl and her greedy demon were rendered speechless.

"That's.... True..." Diavolo and MC's acquaintances sweatdropped. That actually happened...

"Human's life is more fragile and shorter than you beings. I can't consider her pacts can keep her safe."

"I'm also trying my best to trust your race, but this is as far as I could. After all, I already witnessed two demons baring their fangs in front of me. I need an insurance, a bond I could actually hold on to."

"Even if you can't trust us, we also can't trust your words. What do we know? You may use my pact with ill intention. Pacts are absolute. A demon can't decline their master's orders." Lucifer's growl shakes the ground beneath her.

"I don't need you to trust me. Pacts are absolute, so do is the deal within it."

She faced the pair of burning crimson eyes skinning her alive. "I vow to use this pact solely for her safety and no one else. Should I go against it, you can have me. My soul, my whole existence; you can have everything of me."

"Wha—!! A–Alexa?!" MC's voice fell on deaf ears.

"She is my greatest treasure. If it is for her safety and happiness, I'd gladly sell my soul without any regrets." Unwavering, with no sense of lie nor fear her eyes ablaze, sending shiver down his spine.

He felt something: as extreme as as his revererence to the future Demon King; as intense as his fondness and affection towards his brothers.

Throughout the the moment they lock stares, she invades his senses, until she broke it to return her attention to the prince.

"So, is it possible for her to study here or not?"

"Are you sure? You'll really put your life on line?" With seriousness, Diavolo emphasized the weight her offer bears.

"Yes." A single word yet an embodiment of resolution tugs the corners of Diavolo's lips in admiration.

"Now that said it like that, everything makes perfect sense. I commend you. If I'm not tied with my responsibilities in Devildom, I, myself, might have accepted your proposal. That being said, Lucifer is the one who will decide as he is the one who will took on the duty." They returned their focus on the embodiment of pride, no longer in his demon form.

The said man then step towards her. When she's only inches away, he reached out to the stray ginger strands resting near her eyes and took it with feather light touch out of her face— with a malicious grin and expression is plastered on his face.

He took her chin in his thumb and index finger, pulling her face so close their noses almost touches and stares directly through her eyes, "Really? You'll give me everything? Your soul, your body? I can have it all?"

The fire that took him in a moment ago reemerges, without any signs of fear at all. "If I broke my promise, do whatever you want with me."

"I have a question. Out of all the demons here and the whole Devildom, why did you choose me?"

"I can feel your strength and great sense of responsiblity. I'm certain you're the only one who can do this task." Lucifer chuckled from her answer.

"You really know your way with word don't you? Just remember one thing. In this pact, I'm not your possession. You'll belong to me, is that clear? Just make one wrong move and your very existence will be mine."

"If by that you mean you will abide by the contract and do everything you could for MC then alright, I am yours." He let go of her chin and took a step back.

"Very well. I, Lucifer, am making a pact with you." The very instant he finished his words, a bearable searing is felt onto the center of her chest, right above her heart. She unconsciously held onto her chest from the foreign sensation.

"Ohh..? What a good spot for the mark to appear." Lucifer chuckled.

"Hey human," Mammon wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "That's incredible! 'Ya sure tied Lucifer around your finger! Now he can't do everything as he pleased. 'Ya know we'll make a great team. I'll teach you how to use the pact then let's take down that prideful man."

"How about this..." She grabbed the shoulder above her own. "You'll pay MC full or I'll bury you deeper than the pits of hell? I won't be needing Lucifer's powers to do so." Another hand grabbed him and when he looked up, a menacing Lucifer is towering over him.

"Let's not waste anymore of Diavolo's time. Mammon, let's talk about that debt once we get home."

MC held the hem of her shirt wearing a wry expression on her face. "Alexa...uhh..." The lady stared at the teen before reaching out to touch her cheeks.

"Ow–Oww, Owwie! Wec go!" The teen tried to pried her fingers from pinching her cheeks. "Ouch.. that hurts. You didn't have to do that.." MC pouts, massaging both of her throbbing red cheeks.

"That face suits you more."

"But still... I'm..."

"Hey, don't think too much or you'll exhaust your remaining braincells." The older female giggled.

"Hey... That's not nice..." Her little sister pouts again.

"Of course, I'm not a nice person after all." She gave her a subtle smile.

"MC, Alexandria, I'm not waiting any further." Lucifer called in the doorway, literally dragging Mammon's body by the collar.

"Let's talk about it later. Right now we should get some rest. I haven't been sleeping for two days you know. And you didn't sleep last night." Alexandria reached out for MC's free hand. "Let's go."

"...Hmm!" The youngest showed her usual bright smile that brings relief to her tightening chest.

Posted at last! Hahaha.

The idea of this story came to me in my busy schedule (and meh, I chose to write it during that time cause procastination called me.)

I did this first over my drabble "Dawn to Dusk" so this is actually my first story after half a year of not writing (I did a book in wattpad, but it's not Obey Me related)

I want to right a character different than our usual MC for a change, yet I don't wanna remove her out of the picture completely (or I'll die thinking to whom am I gonna pair Alexa 😆)

The flow so far moves the way I imagine it to be, though I don't know if Alexa's personality end the way I wanted it to be. And MC's name sure gave me a headache, so I was like, "meh, let's call her MC so everyone don't blend her character with Alexandria." I also initially want to make Alexa a "reader-insert" style but didn't because of the same reason.

Formatting sure gave me a hard time 😂 Took me 30 minutes adding that 'keep reading' button and fix that picture jumping to the end like an annoying grasshopper.

I've already started Chapter 2, meeting the 5 other demon brothers. 🤭🤭

If anyone have any suggestions, recommendations, request or violent reaction, you can reach me in the Ask box~~

Chapter 2, click here

[samwise-writes]

The Gala: A Dance?

Part one, because this got really heckin' long. I've sat on this for too long, so here, have a thing.

Follows A Promise and The Invitation so those might be worth a gander for context!

CW: Hisoka; stalking; Possessive behaviour

She was uncomfortable. The fabric that was draped around her body felt as though it was suffocating her - she was painfully aware of how the outfit restricted her movements and of the overwhelming number of blind spots in the room. She fidgeted with a lock of hair that had escaped the carefully crafted updo she had managed to wrangle her ginger strands into only a few short hours earlier.

She was brought back into a more present state of consciousness as Mairi took a step closer to Serena's side. She must have sensed the shopkeep's uneasiness, as when Rea met the other woman's gaze, sympathy coloured the Hunter's blue eyes.

Rea held back a cringe and forced a smile onto her face, attempting to ease her posture into something even just slightly less defensive (at least in appearance). It certainly wouldn't do for the entire ballroom to observe how uncomfortable she was - the last thing she needed was hundreds of Hunters and other highly dangerous people to mistake her discomfort as something more threatening.

"I wasn't being facetious when I told your clown that these sorts of events were not my cup of tea."

Mairi made a face of displeasure at the mention of the redheaded magician - "Not my clown."

Rea snorted and a genuine smile cracked across her face for the first time since they had stepped into the building.

"Hey, you brought that nuisance into my life, he is yours." She paused thoughtfully before smirking, "Anyways, he seems to be a bit of a package deal with your boyfriend... so, he's yours, no take-backs!"

Mairi looked confused for a split second before a look of realization dawned and transformed into a look of horror, "Excuse me? No? Illumi is not my boyfriend." Rea cackled at her friend's reaction.

"If he isn't your boyfriend then why is he always lurking around the shop like he thinks he's being stealthy whenever you visit me?"

Mairi blinked at Rea.

"He what?"

Rea was not expecting her friend's reaction to be... well, what it was.

She didn't know that he had followed her to the shop all those times.

Rea was thinking as quickly as she could; now was not the time nor place for frightening revelations, (as one of the Zoldyck family members following you tends to be).

"You are way too easy to tease, you know. He only seems to be around when Killua is with you, so you can chill out. Probably just being a creepy and possessive older brother, like you said he has the tendency to be."

It was a lie - he hadn't only been there when Killua was with Mairi, but she didn't want to send her friend into a panic. She paused, closely observing the other woman, but for once Mairi's expression was difficult to read. Linking an arm with the Story Hunter she started pulling her deeper into the room, "let's go find something to drink."

She hadn't realized how much of an effect her words would have. Although reflecting, she should have known better. She herself had had a similar reaction to the Story Hunter’s when she first noticed the assassin's presence. It had taken a while to even become aware of him (and if he was anyone other than a Zoldyck she would've accused herself of getting rusty).

The eldest Zoldyck child was very much the opposite of Hisoka - while the magician was more than happy to make himself known through his loud and dramatic behaviour, and by flexing his aura and bloodlust all over the place - the assassin kept a very tight control on his own: if he didn't want you to know he was there, you wouldn't, at least not until it was much too late. It was a coincidence that Rea had even noticed him - and it was very much thanks (unfortunately) to Hisoka. The magician had seemed to sense something when he was in her shop one day, and the flare in his bloodlust seemed to trigger the slightest slip up in the assassin's aura (it was, after all, incredibly difficult not to instinctively react to Hisoka's bloodlust). That day Mairi had yet to make an appearance, so the shop owner hadn't initially connected the assassin's presence to her friend. She had a moment of panic where she lost control of her own aura, thinking that the Zoldycks had finally figured out who she was - and she had to fight to retain her control. She wasn't quite quick enough, and when she dared to glance at Hisoka he was looking at her with a manically delighted look. She hoped that he thought her reaction was simply from the unexpectedness of the flare in his bloodlust; something in his eyes, however, told her that he knew that she too had become aware of the assassin's presence and that the ravenette was the cause of her momentary loss of control. Needless to say, he was very interested to know what the possible connection between the little shopkeeper and Illumi was: as far as he knew only the Story Hunter had met the assassin before. In an attempt to deescalate the situation, Rea had stuck her tongue out at him in the most childish manner she could muster and told him to: "stop looking at me like that, you creep."

After that, Rea had been able to pick up on the assassin's presence whenever he did make an appearance. He never came in, but the former-Hunter was able to connect the fact that his appearances often coincided with her friend's visits. While she was concerned for her friend, she felt herself relax in the knowledge that he wasn't there for her, and therefore the Zoldycks likely still didn't know who she was. She never brought up the issue with her friend, she had clearly wrongly assumed that the woman had known.

Despite the levity that Rea had attempted to introduce by teasing the other woman (because let's be honest that royally failed), there was something undeniably charged in the atmosphere of the room. It was making the back of Rea's neck prickle. She wasn't sure if it was due to the disquiet that had fallen over her friend, or simply her own unease of being at the gala.

Unfortunately, it wasn't nearly as simple as that, and it didn't take very long to understand the true cause of the uneasy atmosphere.

The two women had managed to collect champagne flutes and were standing off to the side of the ballroom's dance floor, talking in hushed tones, both seemingly comparably more at ease than they had been just a quarter of an hour ago.

Suddenly Rea tensed up to a greater degree than at any other point during the evening so far. She stood stalk still as a certain aggravating presence loomed up beside her.

"Well, don't we just look positively delectable tonight," Hisoka purred in her ear. She could practically visualize the smug look the magician would be sporting; Rea had to fight every instinct in her body not to whip around and smack the man in the face. The women, in a controlled manner, turned to face the magician and another unexpected figure.

Rea thanked Mairi for what she did next because frankly, Rea had not expected Hisoka to look like that.

"What are you doing here?" Rea's eyes were going between a very normal(?!) looking Hisoka, her friend's quickly reddening shocked face, and a man with long black hair, a blank face and dark eyes that resembled pieces of the void. After she got past the initial shock of Hisoka's appearance Rea gathered enough wherewithal to discover that the dark-haired man was in fact the assassin who had been stalking her friend.

"You know, it is only good manners for you to return the compliment," Hisoka tore Rea's attention back to him, getting in her face with a smirk.

"You know,” Rea gave the magician a practiced bored look, “it’s bad manners to fish for compliments." She was proud of her acerbic tone. She would NOT give him the satisfaction of knowing how attractive he looked. He kept staring at her, a smirk growing wider - she could feel her own face slowly becoming more and more flushed by the second.

She gave a huff, and crossed her arms, trying to play off her affectedness with nonchalance, eyes returning to her friend who seemed to be growing tenser and tenser.

"You don't look like a clown for once: congratulations."

The assassin's eyes moved from Mairi for the first time since the men approached them, and fell to Rea, before quickly angling toward Hisoka; he blinked as though taking in the other man's appearance for the first time.

"She is right, you know."

Rea had to swallow the laugh that came bubbling up her throat at the ravenette's monotone delivery and oddly unobservant treatment of his companion. She wondered if he really hadn’t noticed or if he was just acting like he hadn’t in order to get under the magician’s skin.

The assassin returned his gaze to Mairi, his eyes drinking her in.

After a short pause, he spoke again: “To answer your question… I was invited.”

Rea watched her friend blink a few times face getting even redder, shifting ever so slightly under Illumi’s gaze.

“Oh. Right. Yeah, that makes sense.” There was a pause and Illumi seemed perfectly intent on continuing to stare at Mairi. Finally, she cleared her throat and began again, “Um. Right. Hello.”

Rea wanted to save her friend from the awkward situation but was also attempting to ignore Hisoka, who looked unfairly good in a suit and was staring her down as though she was his favourite dessert.

Rea slipped her arm through Mairi’s again, but this time pulled the other woman into her a bit closer, she proceeded to intertwine their fingers and gave the hunter’s hand a squeeze. Illumi’s eyes narrowing the tiniest degree, fell to their hands, before following Rea’s arm back up to her face.

Interesting.

“So, what, Hisoka,” Rea started, returning her gaze to the other man and inwardly cursing herself for doing so, her voice much breathier as she continued “I refused to bring you, so you annoy this guy into doing so? Wanted to dance with me that bad, huh?”

Hisoka took a step closer so that there were mere centimetres between them, and Rea had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes: they flicked down to her mouth momentarily before meeting her gaze once again.

“Is that an offer?” His voice was so low it sent a shiver down her spine. He grinned at her reaction – and then suddenly he had one hand clasped around the back of her neck, thumb stroking over her pulse-point ever so slightly. A small gasp escaped her lips – she hadn’t even seen him move. Fire spread over her shoulders, and up into her face – she could only imagine how flushed she was.

"Oh, is this why you didn't want me to be your date? Because you knew your undeniable attraction to me would be a distraction from the evening?" He had bent his head down, his red hair tickling her forehead, as his breath danced across her ear. That snapped her back into action. Using her one free hand, she pushed him away from her with a solid press to the middle of his chest.

She sputtered, "NO YOU CLOWN. Shut UP. Just. Leave. I'm leaving."

Then she tugged on Mairi’s hand, attempting to draw her attention away from the other man who was back to staring at her: however, to Rea’s dismay, she was met with a sight she hadn’t expected. Illumi had one hand extended to her friend – was he asking her to dance?

She saw her friend was looking at her with wide eyes, as though looking for an escape. Serena opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out, Hisoka stepped closer to her again, placing his hand now lightly at her waist.

“Dance with me.” His voice sounded in her ear again, this time more serious than Rea had ever heard him. She made an apologetic face at her friend. They were stuck in the situation, it seemed.

Serena redirected her gaze, opting to trace the pattern of the marble floor, rather than meet Hisoka’s too-close eyes.

“I don’t know how to dance.”

There was a pause and Rea finally met Hisoka’s gaze. It seemed he was waiting for her to do so, as his sharp grin spread further across his face.

“Worry not, Dearest, I won’t let you fall.”

She cursed under her breath “Sure you won’t.”

She heard him chuckle, assuming he had heard her, as he proceeded to guide the woman out to the dance floor. He stopped a reasonable way in, avoiding the other dancers who had already begun to gracefully move through the waltz and then turned to face Rea.

She stared at him wide-eyed for a moment, as he rearranged them: taking her right hand in his left, and placing her left on his shoulder, before replacing his hand back at her waist.

“Wait – do you even know how to dance?”

He just raised an eyebrow at her for a moment.

And then he took the first step.

A/N: Frankly I had way too much fun writing this, and once again, I blame @crocworkships and our fantastic conversations for this.

[justanotherlifeff]

Levi Ackerman × reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Fluff, matured themes, slowburn

Warning: There's mentions and descriptions of underage rape and suicidal themes and self harm.

(Y/N) POV

They caught the female titan. As I thought, Levi heichou had a plan. It was a shame that the others didn't know about it and hence, many lives were lost but I suppose that was meant to happen. After all, sacrifices like that were normal in the survey corps. We were moving far from the captured titan with Eren and the others when we suddenly heard a huge unearthly roar. "What the hell was that?" I wondered. Everyone else was equally surprised. A while passed and Oluo was talking to Eren about how the team should be trusted when we got a signal from Levi heichou to go back to his position. 

The expedition had ended. As we were flying back, Eld was talking to Eren about how Oluo and Petra pissed their pants on their first expedition as he didn't hear about it the last time Eld mentioned it. Petra and I didn't make any eye contact or talked even once the whole day. Not that I wanted to talk to her anyway. I felt.. Jealous? Maybe not jealous but totally annoyed because she came at me out of nowhere the last day. But yeah, I totally felt something against her.

 Who am I kidding? I feel jealous and I wish she would just die. Suddenly Gunther spotted Levi heichou flying towards us. We took a look at the figure and I could immediately tell it wasn't him. The figure was a lot more feminine. Then it killed him. Eren shouted out "GUNTHER!". I was speechless. Who was that? Oluo shouted "EREN DON'T STOP! KEEP GOING!". Then he shouted to Eld, " SHIT! WHAT DO WE DO?! WHERE DO WE GO?!". 

Eld commanded us to head to command at full speed or to any friendly forces as there was no time to get on horses.

 Petra was panicking and asking if that is the female titan or not and whoosh. It transformed into the female titan. SHE JUST HAD TO MENTION IT. "THIS TIME I WILL KILL IT!" Eren shouted. That boy needs to think straight. He can't even control his titan powers properly. "YOU CAN'T. HEAD TO COMMAND AT FULL SPEED EREN. WE WILL TAKE CARE OF THIS TITAN " Eld shouted. Eren wasted some more time nagging when I shouted at him, "EREN, DO WHAT YOU'RE SAID FOR ONCE GODDAMNIT! OR ELSE I'LL MAKE MIKASA KILL YOU!" and he finally succumbed. 

"Damn you are intimidating when you shout" Eld told me with a smile. Petra scoffed even if I could tell she was intimidated by me as well. The four of us charged towards the titan. Oluo and Eld blinded her. Petra and I sliced both of her hands and Eld went for the nape when it bit Eld. She grew one of her eyes back in less than 30 seconds... I was genuinely scared by that sudden comeback. I calmed myself down in a moment and came back at her from behind with Oluo. Petra was in front of it and she was not high enough. If I hurry, I can move her from the spot. I have enough time to save her. Atleast I think I do... 

But... Do I want to save her? I could blame it all on circumstances and not have blood on my hands at the same time... I might even have a chance with Levi heichou if she is out of the picture... There's still time to save her... Should I? Or should I not? Oluo, who was completely out of range shouted at her to go higher but then the titan stomped at her. Oluo didn't stop to think and went for it's nape but Oluo's sword broke. Then it kicked Oluo. They were all dead. I made a decision. I should own it. Then why do I not feel okay about this?  

Nevertheless, I knew I had to do something because I wouldn't just wait for Eren to be taken. I went as fast as I could towards her and snapped her arms off as fast as possible. I was using a lot of gas but I didn't care. The whole squad was dead. I couldn't do anything about it. No, I could've saved Petra but I didn't. I... I'm not a good person anymore... I don't deserve Levi after this... I'll have to tell him about it if I survive and I wouldn't mind if he hates me. My mind clouded with regret, I was going to cut off it's legs when it jumped and tried to kick me like Oluo. 

It was a stupid mistake that I made. I made some wrong movements because my head wasn't into the fight. As its hands weren't working, it couldn't kick me but its leg got stuck to the rope from my 3DMG. I was jerked out of my movements and flew backwards towards the trees. I tried to use my 3DMG but I realized I had no gas. Then I felt my back hitting against something and everything went dark.

Levi POV

I was moving back into formation when I heard a titan's roar. It wasn't the female titan. "Don't tell me that voice is Eren's" I sighed. I went to the place where the roar came from and found everyone dead. There was blood everywhere. No signs of breathing. There was Gunther, Eld, Petra, Oluo and (Y/N)? Wait, is she dead? Her head was bleeding. She laid by a tree. One of her legs was twisted. But I could see the slightest movement in her body. She was unconscious and probably broke her leg and hitted her head. She wasn't dead because the leaves cushioned her fall. I went down and checked her pulse. 

Yes she was alive. I took my blade and curved "She's alive. Give a signal if you find her" on the dirt beside her and fired an emergency signal. Someone should find her. If not, I will go back for her. I flew away towards the roars again. A girl with black hair was fighting the female titan. She had remarkable capabilities but not good enough for fighting this. She would get killed this way. I pulled her away from the fight and asked her to back off for now. She was convinced that Eren is alive. Apparently, according to her, the female titan tore Eren off the nape of his titan and ran off with Eren in her mouth. 

This girl thinks the objective of the titan is to kidnap Eren. "The objective might be to kill Eren too. In that case, he is dead'' I said to her. She shouldn't keep so much hope. "HE'S ALIVE!" she shouted at me. "I hope you're right." I told her in return. She was complaining about how I failed to protect Eren as I remembered that this girl was in the court and looked murderous when I hitted Eren.

 "I remember you from court. Eren's friend right?" I asked her only to receive a glare. I knew how she felt. I felt the same when Farlan and Isabel... "I see." I said staring at her.I heard an acoustic shell while flying. Someone must have found (Y/N). "First, we'll focus on one objective. Give up on killing the female titan." I added. The fact that (Y/N) is okay made me think straight. 

This girl was having weird effects on me and there's no denying it. But this was not the time to think about that. "How many of our comrades has she murdered?" Eren's friend asked. "Trust me, as long as that titan has the ability to harden it's skin, killing it is impossible. We'll bet everything on the chance that Eren is still alive and we'll rescue him before that thing can clear the forests." I replied.

After rescuing Eren, that girl and I went straight for the clearing. The supply wagons and all our horses would be there. (Y/N) would be there too. It didn't take too long to reach and the first thing I did after giving Eren to the medics was checking on (Y/N). I didn't know for sure to what extent she was hurt. "How's she doing?" I asked the medic in charge of her. "Surprisingly, she didn't have many injuries at all. She has a mild concussion, a shallow cut on her head and she sprained her ankle. She would be okay after a few hours if she keeps resting." the medic answered me. I felt a wave of tranquillity rush over me. I almost lost her. 

However, that feeling didn't last long as I saw my entire squad's bodies being carried over to the line of corpses. How did this happen? (Y/N)... She had the strength to fight the female titan. I know I trained her good enough for that... Was I wrong? No... (Y/N) is the only person who didn't break after my training. How is this possible? Did they underestimate the enemy? Even if they did, that could cause the death of... Two people at maximum if they were ambushed first. How is everyone dead? I saw a soldier wrap the corpses.

 What answer could I give to their family? That they died valiantly on duty? Because, that would be lying because (Y/N) was there with them. She had the power to save them. What exactly went wrong? I knew that I would be having a conversation with (Y/N) about when we go back to the walls. There would be much more things to handle though, like Eren's custody. This mission was a failure and I am sure that we would have to strategize more to get Eren's custody. Everything went wrong in this expedition. I walked towards my squad's corpses. 

They all are dead. I cared about all of them. I taught them everything they knew. However, what's done is done. I felt calm. Isn't this expected? Of Course they are dead. If I try to approach (Y/N) with my feelings, she will die too. I can't approach her. She came back alive and that's all that matters. I won't let her life go to waste. I can't because maybe, just maybe Petra was right.

(Y/N) POV

I woke up on a cart. I got up to see that we were stationed. I felt slightly dizzy due to the head injury but I managed to get up. I got out of the cart and looked around. A line of corpses were set on the ground. Levi Heichou was sitting beside the corpses, doing something. "So you're up" he spoke in a stoic voice without looking at me as I walked towards him. At that moment I remembered the squad being killed. I started feeling sick. I will never see Oluo bite his tongue again. Eld won't ever brag about Oluo and Petra pissing their pants. Gunther will never try to prove that he didn't piss his pants. And worst of all, I felt relieved that there won't be any Petra to try to take Levi heichou's attention away from me. 

I don't know why his attention meant so much to me but it was enough to be glad about Petra's death. It was an odd feeling really. I regretted having to make the decision that led to her death but her absence made me happy. I felt disgusted with myself because of that. "I'm sorry" was all I could croak out to Levi heicou. I looked down to see him ripping the batch on the jacket off Petra's corpse. That scene made me feel uneasy. Did he love her that much? So much that he would take a memory? It deeply hurted me and I knew that I deserved it. He was looking at that corpse because of my decision. How could I look at him in the eyes after that? Why did I do this?

I didn't talk to him any further after that. I couldn't bring myself to do so. He would be disgusted with me if he knew... I travelled on the cart after that. We were chased by titans after that due to the stupidity of some cadets but we lost the titans after throwing away all the corpses. I couldn't save one of our comrades from getting eaten because I was dizzy from my head injury and Levi heichou couldn't do it because he apparently had a leg injury. After that, Levi heichou gave that same batch he took from Petra to the young soldier, telling him that it was his friend's. The friend he risked his own and all his comrade's lives for. And here, I made the decision to let a comrade die because she was with someone that I liked. I really should get eaten by a titan.

Entering the walls was a nightmare to behold. The citizens were all staring and mocking at us. I felt ashamed to be alive. It only worsened when Petra's father gave Levi heichou the marriage proposal. He didn't talk. He must've asked her to marry him. A wave of relief went over my body "There's no Petra to get married to" I thought smugly and I instantly regretted it. It all hit me suddenly. I had been selfish. 

Because of my selfishness, Levi heichou would have to go to their parents and give excuses from my side to justify their deaths. If I saved Petra, Oluo wouldn't have charged towards the female titan. My mind wouldn't be clouded and I could've taken it down. We underestimated on our first attack and we could've made up for it. 

Only if I saved Petra, Levi Heichou wouldn't have had to go through this pain. I took two children away from their parents just because I couldn't make the right decision. I don't deserve to live. I deserve to have my corpse thrown off for the titans to eat. Because of my decision, Eren's custody will be changed to military police. His life would be at stake again. How could I face Mikasa after this? Uncle Erwin would have to come up with a new plan. How could I live with this decision? Why did I make this decision? 

Only if I saved Petra, I wouldn't have had to endure this odd feeling. This feeling of remorse and a twisted joy. I didn't know what to do with these nasty and unnatural emotions so I locked myself up in the room Petra and I shared as soon as we reached the castle and took a sleeping pill only to get engulfed by sleep. I wasn’t ready to face the repercussions of the decision I made.  

Levi POV

"I'm sorry" she said to me. Her voice had remorse but also relief. What was she relieved about? Her eyes showed pain when she saw me take Petra's batch. What was going on in her head? I only took the batch because I felt guilty of the way I treated her. I indeed was too cold with my rejection. I intended to give that batch to her family. At Least they would have something to remember her by... (Y/N) walked away after she noticed that I was taking Petra's batch. Could it be that she holds similar feelings towards me? 

The silence between Petra and (Y/N) this morning was very noticeable. Did they fight because of me? (Y/N) was there when Petra died. Knowing (Y/N), having all my comrades dead under her care seemed far fetched. (Y/N) was talented enough to save at least one of them, even if they were ambushed. Did (Y/N) have anything to do with Petra's death? That seemed like the only valid reason for their deaths. If it was something like that, could I ever forgive her?

As we entered the wall and Petra's father started giving me a marriage proposal for his dead daughter, I remembered the last thing I said to her. "I'm not interested in you Petra. Please don't do this again because you already made things awkward. You're a talented soldier and it would be bad for the squad if I have to transfer you". This is what I said. I should've transferred her. She wouldn't be dead then. She would've had a chance at life.

 I remembered her saying "You love her don't you? Ofcourse. I'm sorry." with tears in her eyes. I thought about this the whole time (Y/N) was unconscious. I remembered (Y/N)'s past. She was a beautiful strong young woman. I admired how she went on after everything that happened to her. If I were to be honest, I liked how she read books and how serious she was about things that matter. I was amazed by her resilience as she was the only person that I've ever met who didn't give up after the intense training I had put her through.

 I deeply approved of the fact that she took cleaning so seriously. She was just... Perfect. Atleast, to me, she was. She might come up as rude, socially awkward, ruthless, and intimidating to others but to me, she was the perfect woman. Women like her were very rare as getting beautiful usually meant not getting strong vice versa but (Y/N) had both strength and beauty. She was the only person I had ever found myself getting interested in. I knew the answer to Petra's question. 

Love isn't something that comes out of nowhere but I cared about (Y/N). Not to mention that I lusted on her. I lusted on her ever since she sat on my face. But I had to keep her safe from further heartbreak. As a member of the Survey Corps, living isn't granted even if you're the strongest soldier of humanity. I didn't want her to be hurt even more by getting involved with me. After all, people I care about always seemed to die.

To be continued...  

Taglist: @kingtamakimurder @realityisoftendisapointing

[skzarchivewritings]

All I Ask – ｊｉｓｕｎｇ

Summary: You're a staff in JYP and had fall in love with the rookie Han from Stray Kids, unfortunately you can't keep hiding this relationship forever.

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Genre: angst.

Warnings: breakup and slight mention of smut (not explicit).

A/N: English isn't even my second language, so I apologize since the beginning for any mistake. You can always talk to me in twitter @3RACHAGIRL to warn me about anything. This is loosely based in All I Ask by Adele.

Word count: 1804

You always knew this couldn't last forever. Even though you were selfish enough to keep this going, deep down you always knew. It was risky since the beginning, and now things have crashed down.

It was always a matter of time until people caught both of you with your guards down, but you got used to his presence. He promised you that he would reveal you to the world when his dating ban finally reached the end. Unfortunately, people got you guys before that, and after a meeting with lots of swearing, you've been fired from your job of choreographer and he was punished with less spotlight in Stray Kids next comeback.

What has hurt you most was the decision that he had to face: you or his career. Of course he wouldn't give up from his dream, and do you wouldn't let him do it. The manager spoke harshly about how you two had to breakup what shouldn't even be started, you felt the weight of this mess crash you, and the heartbreak never felt so real.

The urge to go running away and hide to cry was so intense, you were ready to leave, but Jisung hands gripped your arms, holding you close. You heard him sniffling in your hair, probably facing the same difficulty as you to hold back his tears.

"Just three years... Can you wait for me?" his voice was trembling.

You just nodded, hugging him close enough to bury your face in his chest, letting the tears fall down. He asked for a last night, you wondered if this would do good, but you needed to hold him for one last time.

Jisung went to your apartment that night, you were waiting for him patiently. Every and then you were dressing up for him, you thought that was the last time you would do it for him in a while, just to think about it alone would bring tears in your eyes. When he passed the door, you tried to get a hold of yourself, smiling for him.

"You looks so beautiful today, love" you said to him, smiling brightly.

"You look as beautiful as ever, Y/N." he smiled, taking a few steps to get closer, caressing your cheek "I am already missing you" his voice fell.

The atmosphere were tense for the next fifteen minutes, but then Jisung carried you to the couch, to watch a movie together. It was Me Before You, you guys liked the bittersweet of that movie, even if it wasn't exactly the most favorite type of yours.

He leaned his head in your shoulders, hugging you tight, sometimes joking about some scene. You were distracted by him, looking at his face, memorizing every single detail of him, from his eyebrows shape to his chin. Your heart was beating in a way that was hurting you, you were feeling feeling nauseous of how intense just his bare face was hurting you because he was leaving. Jisung noticed that, sitting up straight and leaning to kiss your forehead.

"I'm still here..." he kissed you again, closing his eyes "Don't cry in front of me, I can't handle seeing you cry." he begged, with his point fingertip in your lips, that he switched to his mouth, locking with yours.

He was passionate in his touches, placing his hands firm enough to make you sure he was there. He kissed you gently, slowly, making you feel the desire he was feeling too. Jisung carried you to your bedroom, placing you on your bed.

That night he worshipped your body like he never did, he leaved marks on you, and not the hickeys ones, the mark of feeling loved. He took you slow, with lots of locking eyes together, he made you sure you knew how much he loved you, until you two had the energy drained, and then collapsed into each other arms, falling asleep.

But when you woke up, he wasn't there anymore.

You felt the pain hit you hard. He didn't even said goodbye, you couldn't tell him one last time that you loved him. You sit in bed, putting your face in your hands with frustration. There was a post it glued to your mattress, it took you lot of courage to read that.

I couldn't face you in the morning, I'm sorry. There's coffee waiting for you. See you in three years. J.One

You cried desperately, maybe he could hear you. You heart clenched in pain, it was starting to making everything too real. It was hard to get up that day, but you convinced yourself to go at least eat the breakfast he prepared for you.

The other days were harder. Sometimes you would cry in the middle of nowhere, like cleaning up your bathroom. You tried hard to get yourself together, but you just couldn't do it.

What gives you hope was read that note every night before go to bed. It was a temporary pain, everything will pass, you thought.

The days were getting a little bit easier through the time, you were getting used to the pain. You needed to get a hold of yourself, and then you searched for another company to work for. Luckily JYP haven't blacklisted you, so it made easier to find a new job.

You spent the last three years helping to prepare a new girlgroup to debut, they were really hard working and united, that enough made your heart fall for them. When their debut date was set, you were so full of work you didn't even realized that has passed the dating ban from Stray Kids, you haven't called him, and neither did him.

Your boss told the dance staff to always be with them, so even in music shows recording for their debut stage you were there too. The girls always thanked you for helping them with female stuff, because most of the staff was men, so you understood them better, always getting their back. One day you were in Inkigayo backstage, and you passed by a loud screeching noise you totally got forgotten in the past months about it, you heart almost jumped out of your chest. You speed up your pace, running out from that sound that made you shocked.

“Noona, are you okay?” the maknae from the group asked you, and you just smiled to her. “I'm fine, I just think I saw a ghost in the corridor” you faked a laugh, getting a water bottle and drinking. The girl was so confused, and lowkey scared that you might be telling the truth.

The older one just entered the room, retouching her lipstick in front of the mirror, analyzing her features in the mirror. She looked at you so enthusiastically that you felt taken aback when she spoke with you.

“Noona, I need coverage” she looked at her feet, blushing red “I just found this sunbaenim… He is really cute, tho… Can you watch us to warn if someone suddenly appears?” she was fully red in her face, and you looked hella confused.

“I mean… Taehee… isn't it too risky to do it?” you were concerned, getting closer to her, getting a grip onto her shoulders “You just debuted, don't risk everything because of a fling” you weren't being harsh, you just knew that same path, although you never told anyone about why you have been fired from your previous job, you felt the need to explain to that girl that she has to take some manners in industry.

Suddenly you felt the weight of your own past relationship to add to your shoulder, you had to excuse yourself out of the changing room to have some fresh air, you were ready to burst into tears. For three years you didn't dated anyone, you haven't been in a blind date or something, you just waited for him. You forgot this because of how busy and stressed you were in this whole trainee process, and just by hearing him from a long distance snapped you out of your own trance. How could Han Jisung affect you that much even after all this time? That was unfair.

Walking by the corridors you spotted Stray Kids manager, you bowed to him and got ready to walk away, but he stopped you.

“Y/N! It's been so long…” yeah, like you weren't the one who denounced your secret dates with his member, you thought.

“Hey” you forced yourself to smile “Yeah, now I'm training a girlgroup, amazing, isn't it?”

He congratulated you, and looked sincere, you both small talk for a little bit, when you are ready to turn around and go away, you saw those flashes of pity in his eyes. You wished you could curse him, break him apart.

Walking around you found yourself a nice and quiet place to simply stay there with your thoughts, you found a sit in the ground, closing your eyes and torturing yourself with memories that should be long forgotten. It was so hard to keep standing still, it's almost like you've been woken up from a coma just to hear his voice. It hurted you so bad. Your heart felt terrible in pain because your mind reminded you how brightly Jisung used to smile to you, or his scared faces whenever a loud noise suddenly appeared. You chuckled to that memory of your phone ringing making him surprised when you were so close to him and everything was so silent.

He was the sweetest, but now he's untouchable for you. Stray Kids has gone way too far for you to ask him about his promise, you weren't that selfish. Also he probably has already got over you. Han never called you in these three years, and something in the back of your mind told you it was because he probably didn't wanted you back. It was foolish from you to keep waiting for something that would never happen, you could only cherish the good memories that he left with you.

You recomposed yourself and went back to the corridors searching for your staff crew members, you would probably have to apologize for gone missing for a couple of minutes. Walking fast, you suddenly stopped when the Stray Kids changing room door opened, revealing Jisung itself. He smiled at you, you smiled back, but hurried before he could start a conversation with you, for the sake of your own emotional state. You would always remind of him like a good and smiling guy, it was better for you just end things in a good mood.

It always mattered for you how it would ends, and with a smile face was the better possibility you could take from that. It was time to let him go.

Goodbye, brown eyes. Goodbye, my love.