#since i never felt a need to force part 2 to life if it's not needed

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

For Rome - Chapter 2

Summary: When those three days pass, he's back to see you and talk about things most important to him.

Pairing: General Marcus Acasius x F!Reader

Warnings: a description of injuries (I'm not a doctor or do not have any medical education so apologies), angst, some fluff if you squint, a not-defined age-gap. English isn't my first language so apologies for all mistakes.

Words: 4 300

N/A: The story is not really canon, but I still hope you guys will enjoy it ;)

Marcus Acasius never imagined a woman could take up so much space in his thoughts. It was absurd, really. He was a Roman General, a man forged in the fires of war, and yet he felt like a boy—a foolish, inexperienced boy—mesmerized by something he couldn’t shake from his mind.

As he sat in the quiet of his chambers, the world outside his door dimmed by night, his thoughts betrayed him once more. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. The memory of your gentle touch on his scars lingered like a phantom, your soft voice echoing in his mind, and those eyes—those beautiful eyes so full of care—they almost broke him. You made him feel strong, and yet so painfully vulnerable all at once.

Every night, as per your orders, he applied the oil you had given him. The act itself was mundane, yet it felt anything but. The subtle, calming scent reminded him of the peace he had found in your presence. Whether it was the oil itself or the thought of you that brought him relief, he couldn’t be certain. What he did know was that the angry red scars were beginning to fade, the pain that had once been constant now a dull memory. You were skilled, undoubtedly so, and he clung to that explanation for why you haunted his thoughts.

Yes, it was your talent. It had to be.

It couldn’t possibly be you.

He had traveled far and wide, seen beauty in every corner of the empire. He had shared nights with women whose allure could make poets weep. You were lovely, of course—adorable, even if he were forced to describe you. But he was no stranger to beautiful women. Unlike the younger men under his command, he had long since lost the naïve infatuation with a pretty face. He had experienced it all before, knew it well, and yet here he was.

And so, when he summoned one of his men to gather information about you, he told himself it was out of curiosity for your skills, nothing more.

The report was straightforward enough. You were from a lower-class family, though your roots hinted at something more complex. Your father had once been part of an aristocratic lineage, but when he married your mother—a woman of modest means—he was disowned. Together, they built a humble life, known for their generosity and compassion.

The tragedy of their deaths, claimed by illness, had left you alone. But it also explained much about you. Your father’s education had clearly been passed down, and your mother’s kindness was etched into every fiber of your being. It all made sense now—the deft way your hands worked, the calming air you carried, the unwavering patience and joy with which you helped those in need.

He found himself smiling at the thought of you. Even your stubborn refusal to address him with the formality his title demanded brought a strange warmth to his chest. It was improper, yes, but it was honest. It reminded him of how deeply you valued people—not their titles or their rank, just their humanity.

So when the third day finally arrived, Marcus Acasius was more than ready to see you again. He had spent the past two days drowning in reports, orders, and the endless bureaucracy of war, but the thought of you lingered like a quiet undercurrent. Of course, he told himself, this visit was purely about your skills. Your talent for healing was unparalleled, and any admiration he held for you stemmed entirely from professional respect. Or so he insisted.

---

You were exhausted. More so than usual, which was saying something.

Helping people was your calling—it gave you purpose and joy—but the demands were relentless, and lately, sleep had become a luxury you could scarcely afford. Last night, a frantic knock at your door woke you at three in the morning. A small family needed your help; their young son was sick and vomiting, and his parents were in a state of panic.

You had gone to them immediately, carrying your bag of remedies through the cold, quiet streets. After examining the boy, you reassured the worried parents that it was likely something he’d eaten. You gave him a dose of your homemade stomach drops and stayed long enough to see his color return before heading back.

But the day didn’t stop there. As soon as the sun rose, more patients arrived, each with their own ailments and needs. It was nearly nightfall when you finally sat down, the ache in your feet a dull reminder of the hours you’d spent moving from one task to the next.

Your eyes fell on the small bag of coins sitting on your table. The one the general had given you three days ago. It remained untouched, unopened—a symbol of your stubbornness. You had told yourself you didn’t need it, that you could manage without it.

And yet, as your gaze lingered on it, a small pang of disappointment stirred within you.

He hadn’t come back.

You frowned, pressing your lips together as if to stop yourself from admitting the truth. But it was no use. You wanted to see him again.

Who were you kidding? You liked him.

Marcus Acasius was a mystery to you—a man shaped by war and hardship, yet possessing a depth of kindness you hadn’t expected. The way he spoke of his men, the gratitude in his voice when he thanked you, it was like listening to a father speaking of his children. It had been endearing, yes, but it had also made your silly crush on him all the harder to ignore.

Couldn’t he have been just handsome?

But no, he had to be charming too.

And handsome he was. The image of him lingered in your mind—his broad shoulders and strong, weathered hands, his sharp jawline and the lines etched around his eyes from years of experience. His dark brown hair, streaked with just the faintest hints of silver, framed a face that seemed carved by the gods themselves. His piercing gaze, often shadowed with the weight of command, had softened when he looked at you, and the contrast was enough to make your heart race.

He reminded you of a hero from an epic tale, though he carried himself with far more humility. The ruggedness of his features, paired with the quiet strength in his voice, made him nearly impossible to ignore.

And those moments when he smiled? They felt rare, like a secret treasure, and you found yourself wanting to be the cause of it again.

He was older than you, of course, that much was clear. But the years had been kind to him, sculpting his physique and demeanor into something almost otherworldly. He had the physique of a seasoned warrior—broad and powerful, but lean, every muscle honed for purpose rather than vanity. The way his tunic clung to him when he moved was enough to make your cheeks flush just thinking about it.

So, was it foolish to hope he might return? Maybe. But hope was a stubborn thing, and tonight, it clung to you as tenaciously as the exhaustion in your limbs.

And as you sat there, staring at the unopened bag of coins and willing yourself to move, a part of you couldn’t help but glance toward the door.

Almost as if you had summoned him, the soft creak of the door and a quiet knock broke the silence. You stood quickly, brushing your hands on your apron as you approached the door, but the sight on the other side made you freeze.

It was him. The man who had occupied far too many of your thoughts these past days.

“Apologies, my lady. I am late,” Marcus Acasius said, his voice carrying that deep timbre that you hadn’t realized you’d missed. A faint, self-deprecating smile tugged at his lips. “But it seems that just because I’m off the battlefield doesn’t mean I’m free of its demands.”

The joke was awkward, and yet it disarmed you completely. The tiredness that had weighed on you moments ago seemed to lift as if by magic. You smiled, stepping aside to let him in, your voice softer than you intended. “Don’t apologize, General. I’m just glad you listened to me and came.”

I’m glad you came. The words lingered on the tip of your tongue, but you bit them back, forcing yourself to remain composed.

“And I told you not to call me a lady,” you added playfully as you waved him toward the chair by the hearth.

He chuckled, a sound that warmed the room as much as the firelight. You lit the remaining candles, bathing the space in a soft glow, and poured him a cup of wine. His gaze drifted as he accepted it, landing on the small bag of coins sitting on your table.

“I see I’m as stubborn as you are, my lady,” he said with a raised brow, emphasizing the title with deliberate mischief.

You followed his gaze and sighed, rolling your eyes as you poured yourself a cup of water.

“It’s hard for me to believe you don’t need the funds,” he added, his tone light but firm.

“I don’t take money from my patients,” you replied, your voice tinged with the stubbornness he was quickly coming to recognize. “They come here because they know I don’t expect anything from them.”

He leaned forward slightly, the light catching the curve of his jaw as he spoke. “It wasn’t meant as payment. It was a gesture of thanks.”

His words were gentle, but the glint of amusement in his eyes didn’t escape you. He seemed almost entertained by the pout that had formed on your lips, and for a moment, you thought he might laugh.

Instead, he set his cup aside and began to remove his tunic. You turned instinctively, pretending to busy yourself with your tools, but the sight of his bare chest caught you off guard when you glanced back. Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you cursed the warmth that betrayed you.

Marcus raised a brow, catching the faint flush in your face. Adorable, he thought to himself. Absolutely adorable.

You apologized softly for your cold hands as your fingertips brushed against his skin, working methodically to check his healing wounds. You peeled back the bandages carefully, your touch light yet deliberate. Each scar you examined showed clear signs of improvement, and the satisfaction that lit up your face was undeniable.

“I’d like to take the bandages off completely, if that’s alright,” you said, glancing up at him.

His deep voice rumbled with a simple, “Alright,” and you thanked him with a smile so sweet it nearly undid him.

As you revealed more of his healing skin, your excitement grew. The bruises that had once been dark and angry were now fading to muted shades. You pressed lightly against the edges of one to test for tenderness, and though he winced slightly, he barely flinched.

“Forgive me,” you murmured, pulling your hand back quickly. “I needed to see if it was healing properly.”

When you looked up at him again, your expression was so full of joy that it made his chest tighten.

“It means you’ve been following my instructions,” you said with a pleased smile.

“More like orders,” he teased, unable to resist.

You shot him a look, but the playful glint in your eye made him chuckle.

“That oil you made is fascinating,” he admitted, his tone softening. “For the first time in years, I didn’t feel like retching while using medicine.”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “The nose is a powerful instrument. Humans are naturally drawn to things that are pleasing, even when it comes to healing.”

He nodded thoughtfully, though he wasn’t sure if it was the oil or you that had been so alluring. No, he told himself firmly. It was the oil. You were just... a curiosity.

Handing him a small bottle, you said, “Three more nights of this, and you should be fine. After that, keep the area dressed for another week to ensure complete healing. And please,” you added, your tone soft but serious, “make sure you rest. Rest is as powerful as any medicine I could make.”

You placed your hand lightly on his freshly dressed ribs, your fingers lingering just a moment too long. When you realized it, you pulled back quickly, your heart racing as if you’d been caught doing something improper.

Marcus noticed, of course. But instead of teasing you, he simply smiled—a quiet, knowing smile that made your stomach flutter.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice low and genuine. “For everything.”

You nodded, your cheeks warm as you turned away, focusing on tidying your supplies. But as you moved, you felt his gaze on you, steady and unwavering.

“Actually…”

The sound of your name on his lips made you freeze. It wasn’t his usual voice—the commanding tone of a general accustomed to giving orders. No, this was different. It was hesitant, almost fragile, like he was about to confess something he wasn’t sure you wanted to hear.

“I came to ask you something. A favor.”

Your heart skipped, the uncharacteristic vulnerability in his voice sending a ripple of unease through you. You forced a smile, trying to ease the tension that seemed to thicken the air between you. “What is it, General?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze fell to the floor, his hands flexing and releasing as if grappling with the weight of his own words. You stayed quiet, waiting, though every second of his silence felt heavier than the last.

“This will likely be my last campaign for a long time,” he said finally, his voice quiet and measured. “The emperor is preparing to marry, and with any luck, he’ll have his hands too full with his new bride to concern himself with war.”

The faint bitterness in his tone made you smile despite yourself. It was rare to hear him speak so plainly about the emperor, and it felt oddly comforting to know he shared your unspoken frustrations.

“It’s a critical mission,” he continued, his gaze meeting yours for a fleeting moment before flickering away again. “Not for Rome, but for my men. Their morale is fragile, and I want as many of them to come back as possible. They deserve that much.”

There was a heaviness in his voice that made your chest tighten. You nodded softly, silently urging him to go on.

“What is it you need from me, General?” you asked gently when the silence stretched too long.

He stepped closer, his presence suddenly filling the room in a way that made it hard to breathe. Your heart stuttered as he moved within arm’s reach, his broad frame towering yet not imposing. It wasn’t his size or rank that overwhelmed you—it was the way he looked at you, as though searching for an answer he wasn’t sure you could give.

“Of course you’d want to help,” he murmured, his voice carrying a warmth that sent a shiver through you. “You really are an angel, aren’t you?”

The words caught you off guard. Your lips parted to respond, but no sound came. Before you could compose yourself, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

It was such a small gesture, but the tenderness in it left you frozen. You could feel the warmth of his hand lingering on your skin long after he pulled away.

“I want you to come with me,” he said simply.

His words felt like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of your lungs. You blinked, staring at him in disbelief. “I’m… I’m not sure I heard you correctly, my Lord.”

“You heard me,” he replied, his tone steady but lined with something raw. “You’re the most talented healer I’ve ever met. You don’t just treat wounds; you give people hope. You make them feel seen, cared for—like they matter. That’s something I’ve never seen in the ranks of the Roman army.”

His words struck a chord deep within you, and for a moment, you felt like a child again—small and unsure, standing in the shadow of something far bigger than yourself.

“The medics I take with me,” he continued, his voice quieter now, “they’re soldiers first. They’re efficient, but they’ve seen too much, and it shows. My men—they trust you. They look to you for more than just healing. I want them to have that on the battlefield, too.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, leaving it disheveled. “I’m tired,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “So damn tired of burying boys who never got the chance to live. Of hearing mothers wail when they learn their sons won’t come home. Of hearing wives weep for the husbands they’ve lost.”

His shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of his words seeming to bear down on him. He turned away, walking to the window, his hand resting on the frame as he stared into the darkness outside.

“I’m asking for a lot,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t believe you were the only one who could give them what they need.”

His words hung heavy in the air, wrapping around you like a storm cloud.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m just a girl from a low-born family. I mix oils and make stomach drops. I wrap bandages. I’m not…”

“You’re more than that,” he interrupted, his voice rising with conviction. “You’ve done more for them than anyone else has. You’ve given them hope, kindness, a reason to believe in something. Including me.”

Your breath caught at his last words. He turned back to you, his eyes searching yours, and the intensity of his gaze made your chest ache.

Tears welled in your eyes despite your best efforts to hold them back. The vulnerability in his face, the rawness in his voice—it was too much.

“My lady…” He stepped closer, his tone soft, almost pleading.

“I’m no one,” you whispered, shaking your head. “I help them because they come to me already half-healed. I don’t do anything special…”

“You do more than you know,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “And I don’t expect miracles. I just want my men to feel cared for. To know there’s someone who sees them as more than soldiers.”

He paused, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I want them to feel like they have something to come back to. And I don’t want to wait until they return to Rome to give them that.”

The room was silent, save for the faint crackle of the fire. You stared at him, his words sinking into your chest like stones, heavy and unrelenting.

“I have people here who depend on me,” you murmured, the words faltering as they left your lips. Your eyes darted anywhere but to his face. How could you look at him, knowing the weight of what he was asking? It felt impossibly heavy, pressing down on you, suffocating you.

“What you ask of me, my Lord, it’s too much…” you trailed off, your voice barely audible. The truth was clawing at your chest, but you didn’t know how to give it words.

You stood abruptly, needing movement, needing something to ground yourself. The room suddenly felt too small, the air too thin. Your fingers moved to the jars on your desk, rearranging them out of habit, though they didn’t need fixing. Your thoughts were a whirlwind, crashing into one another with relentless force, refusing to settle.

“I’m more than honored,” you said, though the words felt hollow. They weren’t untrue, but they weren’t enough to explain the tempest inside you.

You paused, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as if it could keep you steady. “Gods, this is why I hate Rome!” The words burst from you, sharp and unguarded, as though ripped from the deepest part of your soul.

The moment they escaped, regret surged through you like a tidal wave. You froze, your breath catching, your chest tightening with panic.

Behind you, you felt his attention shift, his presence suddenly sharper, heavier.

“Do you really hate Rome?” His voice was calm, but the question cut through you, leaving you bare.

You turned slowly, your heart hammering in your chest. Did I say that out loud?

His gaze met yours, unwavering. It wasn’t cold or accusing; it was something worse. Understanding. He saw you, and in that moment, it felt as though he could see everything���your doubts, your fears, your anger, and the tiny flicker of hope you’d long tried to smother.

“I…” you stammered, your throat dry, “Forgive me, General, I have misspoken.” Your words rushed out, desperate to cover the mistake you couldn’t take back.

“You haven’t,” he said softly.

The gentleness in his tone startled you, and when he stepped closer, you instinctively stepped back, your hands gripping the desk tighter.

“Perhaps,” he continued, “it’s not Rome you hate. Perhaps it’s the Rome we have now—the one ruled by men who care nothing for its people.”

Your breath hitched. His words were dangerous. More dangerous than anything you’d dared to think aloud. And yet, they resonated so deeply within you that you couldn’t push them away.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice a quiet plea. “Tell me about the Rome you dream of.”

You hesitated, your mind racing. How could you speak of the thoughts you’d buried so deep, even you were afraid to confront them?

When his hand cupped your cheek, the warmth of his touch startled you, grounding you. His thumb brushed lightly across your skin, and for the briefest moment, the noise in your mind stilled.

“My parents dreamed of a Rome that belonged to its people,” you began, your voice trembling. “They dreamed of a place where corruption didn’t rule, where the public had the power to choose their future.”

You paused, the weight of those memories pressing against your chest. You could see your parents so clearly, their faces illuminated by the flicker of the candle light as they whispered of a better world.

“But I don’t think their dream was enough,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “It was… too far away, too focused on what could be. The Rome I dream of needs to start here, now.”

His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt. He watched you, his expression open, patient.

“It needs to start with the wars,” you said, your voice growing stronger. “Ending them. No more death, no more pain, no more conquering. We have to stop trying to claim the world when we can’t even take care of the people we already have.”

The words poured out of you now, a torrent you couldn’t hold back.

“There are people starving, suffering, dying right here in Rome. How can we talk about a better future when we’re losing the present?”

Your chest heaved as you finished, your heart pounding against your ribs. For the first time in your life, you had spoken the truth of your dreams aloud, and it felt like tearing open a wound.

“And do you believe that’s possible under Geta and Caracalla?” he asked, his tone gentle but edged with something you couldn’t quite name.

A bitter laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

“They don’t know how to build,” you said, the anger in your voice surprising even yourself. “All they know is how to destroy. Every day, I see what their vanity has done to the city I love. I try to help, but it’s never enough. I can’t undo the damage they’ve done.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and this time, you didn’t bother to fight them.

“Tell me, General,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both anger and despair. “Do you know what it’s like to hear the cries of the dying? To see the fear in someone’s eyes as they realize it’s over? Do you know what it’s like to hold someone’s hand as they take their last breath?”

Your voice cracked, and the sob that followed broke free before you could stop it. Your knees buckled, but before you could fall, his arms were there. Strong, steady, pulling you against his chest.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with a sorrow that mirrored your own.

The warmth of him enveloped you, his steady heartbeat grounding you as your emotions spilled over.

“I know exactly how you feel,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ve held the hands of boys who will never grow old. I’ve listened to the wails of mothers, the sobs of wives. It’s why I need you.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands cradling your face. His thumbs brushed away your tears with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“It’s why I need you to help me help them,” he continued, his voice steady, filled with conviction. “Help me build the Rome we both dream of.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with promise and hope. You stared at him, your heart warring with your mind. He believed in you, in your dreams, in a future that felt impossible.

And somehow, against all logic, you believed in him too.

You nodded, the motion small but certain.

For the first time, you allowed yourself to hope—not just for the Rome you dreamed of, but for the man standing before you.

[illusionsofdreaming]

I know the fic is like 2 years ago (damn that’s long) and i beg. May i request a pov of cale in the next life? It would add more salt to the wound reading his pov TvT

Oh wow, has it been 2 years already? I didn't expect people to still remember that piece haha

I do have a sequel planned for it actually which is also written in Cale's perspective, but it won't be a retelling of that scene but of something else... 👀

[celiababy]

Ain't Right

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You have a major (borderline obsessive) crush on Joel, and you're on a mission to fuck him.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (56/20), swearing, fingering (fem!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, size kink, cum eating, name calling, kinda mean Joel, alcohol, vomiting, an extremely brief mention of suicide

Disclaimer: I lowkey don't know the logistics of the show so if some things are wrong please look over it I'm just trying to write smut about Joel Miller godbless.

Ain't Right part 2

Ever since that tortured old man showed up in Jackson, your life hasn't been the same.

Tommy's older brother, and your absolute undoing.

When Joel Miller rode into town, it was like everything suddenly made sense. The skies got clearer, the air smelled better, and the birds even chirped their love songs louder.

Everything about him drew you in; his cold demeanor, stoic face, tired eyes—but gentle around those he cared about, which was only a few select people.

And you certainly were not one of those select people.

Joel didn't know what to think about you.

To him, you were odd. Yes, you were undoubtedly the most beautiful girl in Jackson, but he felt distance between the two of you was essential.

He felt this way because he knew.

Joel wasn't oblivious to your stares; he might've been an old man, but he remembered the laws of attraction fairly well.

He didn't like the thought of you liking him.

You were young, attractive, and had plenty of age-appropriate prospects just begging for your attention. Every boy in Jackson wanted a piece of you—but you only had eyes for Joel.

He was getting old and tired, ain't no reason why you should be so fond over him.

He also didn't like that you made your attraction so obvious. It made people whisper, and Joel about had enough teasing from Tommy.

"You gonna let that young thing jump your bones or what, Joel?" Is an example of the few things his brother would chirp at him whenever you were around and had eyes on him like he was a target.

So, all things considered, it's no surprise when Joel is reluctant to make a supply run with you.

You had begged Tommy to let you go out and finally start pulling your weight, carefully adding that Joel would be a great teacher for a first timer like yourself.

You stand near the truck, squeezing the straps of your backpack while watching Joel and Tommy whisper to themselves a couple feet away.

"You can't find anyone else?" Joel growls lowly, narrowing his eyes at his insufferable brother who he’d really like to strangle right now.

"Are you seriously scared of a twenty year old girl, Joel?" Tommy asked exasperatedly, throwing his arm out in disbelief. "It'll take two hours tops, what the hell are you so scared of?" Joel is exhaling through his nose, dragging a hand down his jaw in complete disgruntlement.

"You know what the hell I'm scared of Tommy—goddammit," He gets in his brother’s face before realizing you’re still watching them.

He takes a moment to back up and calm down, breathing out through his nose.

"I do not need this town thinkin' I am encouraging this girls...feelin's." He murmurs lowly.

Tommy rolls his eyes before shoving Joel's backpack into his chest.

"Just don't fuck her, Joel. How hard could it be?"

Joel watches as Tommy turns his back and walks away, leaving just you and him.

Joel had spent a lot of time making sure he was never in a situation alone with you—now he was about to be your unsupervised mentor.

He feels a groan try and crawl its way out his throat, but he pushes it down.

He starts walking to the truck, not even looking at you as he passes and yanks the driver side door open with more force than necessary.

"Let's make this quick." He grunts out, climbing inside.

You do the same, only with a little bit more enthusiasm. ***

The trip is a complete bust.

Joel barely paid you any attention, no matter how many flirty gestures you made at him.

You'd say something remotely suggestive and he'd either glare at you, or just flat out ignore you.

But you were relentless. Giving up on him wasn't in the cards for you, no matter how many judgmental looks he casted your way.

You guys had been driving back to town for around five minutes; Joel has kept his eyes firmly on the road in fear of you sparking a conversation with him.

But you do anyways.

You turn your body to face him in the bench seat, your eyes cascading down his breath-taking side profile.

You zoned in on the gray patches of his beard, and how his face had the remnants of a long, unforgiving life weaved into his wrinkles and scars.

You're momentarily rendered speechless by his looks before he side-eyes you.

"What?" He huffs out, not being able to handle your intense stare any longer.

"Why not?"

A beat.

"What?" He asks again, his brows furrowing together, an annoyed and confused expression painting his features.

"Why won't you fuck me?"

Joel physically winces at your language, scoffing in what looks to be disgust as he starts shaking his head.

"We're not starting this." He snaps firmly, a tone in his voice that you haven't heard before.

Completely disregarding his words, you start.

"Is it because I'm not pretty enough?" Joel groans out, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Is it because there's someone else?" He's close to snapping. "Is it because you can't get it up? I heard thats a problem with guys your age-"

Joel slams on the brakes, sending you lurching forward. He shoves the truck into park before turning to face you, a scary look on his face.

"I am not going to fuck you--Christ almighty," Joel raises his voice at you.

You're staring at him, wide eyes and lips parted in surprise. You weren't really expecting this.

"you're bustin' my fuckin' balls, Look kid," He starts up again, this time with a softer tone. "M'about 40 years too old for you-"

You cut him off with a murmur. "36, I did the math."

"Same damn thing," he snaps, shaking his head. "Point is—you don't needa be wastin' your time with me; there are plenty boys your age that will satisfy your...you."

You scoff in his face but try to disguise it by clearing your throat.

"I'm not asking you to marry me, Joel," You start, a sad smile spreading across your lips. "S'just sex." You say with a shrug, blush coating your cheeks because now your mind is imagining sex with him.

He stays silent and looks away from you, closing his eyes like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

That urges you to say more.

"I won't tell anyone," You're practically whispering, looking down at your fidgeting hands in your lap. "I'd let you do anything you wanted to me."

Joel's heart cinches in his chest at your words, mostly because he can tell you're being so genuine.

Why the hell did you like him so much? He just couldn’t understand it.

But he can't entertain this any longer because he knows if he did, he'd give into you.

"I don't wanna hear another goddamn word outta your mouth." Joel says in a strikingly even and calm tone, putting the truck into drive and continuing back.

He's eerily silent, and so is the rest of the trip because you're too dejected to speak.

Eventually, you both arrive home and you're fast to get out of the truck.

You slam the door and keep your head down as you walk away, snow crunching beneath your boots.

Joel takes his time, watching you storm off with tired eyes.

He feels bad for being so rough on you, but he figured it was the only way to get you to stop liking him.

Tommy walks up, a concerned look on his face as he looks back between you and Joel.

"Guessin' you didn't fuck her."

***

Nobody had seen you in days.

The pain of rejection had you in a mental place that you had never experienced before.

No one has ever denied you—ever.

The situation was 100x worse considering you actually liked Joel, and he wasn't just another toy to play with.

Joel figured his life would get easier with you not around, and it kinda did in some aspects.

But he couldn't stop the gnawing feeling of guilt slowly eating at him like a parasite.

He'd been cruel to you in the way he went about things, and he felt bad.

Had he really broken your heart? He didn't know you liked him that much.

He sits in his living room, contemplating how to go about this entirely fucked up situation.

He debates making amends with you, apologizing and rejecting you again but in a gentler way.

He deliberates on his plan of action while nursing a glass of whiskey before he's interrupted by three bangs on his front door, followed by a screeching: "JOEL"

He mutters a 'what the fuck' under his breath, walking to the door and picking his 9mil up on the way.

His eyes widen when he sees you-standing there in all your glory.

It's the middle of winter and snowing like hell, yet you're wearing shorts and a tank top with a beer bottle in your hand.

"Jesus, kid-what the fuck," Joel ushers you inside quickly, taking his big jacket off the coatrack and draping it over you.

He also tosses his gun to the side, obviously you were no threat.

"You tryin' to get frostbit? Christ," he's swearing and muttering profanities as he guides you over to the couch, now basically swaddling you in blankets.

You've never been inside his house before, only ever walked passed it a few times. It smells like him.

You, however, smell like alcohol and bad decisions.

Joel picked up on how drunk you were the minute you stumbled through the door. He takes the bottle from your hand and sets it aside somewhere, glaring at you like how a mad parent would.

"The hell are you doin' out in the snow like that? Fuckin' death wish or somethin'?"

His words are kinda fuzzy in your ears, you're so drunk that you barely even register them.

An unprompted giggle spills from your lips as you shake your head at him.

"It's not snowing silly," You chide, making him out to be an idiot when, in actuality, it's a damn blizzard outside.

He knows from that statement alone that you are way off your rocker tonight.

"How much have ya had to drink, kid?" Joel asks, raking a hand through his graying hair.

"Don't call me kid," You snap, a quick flash of anger in your expression. "M'not a kid."

Joel rolls his eyes so hard that he probably caused a tsunami on the other side of the world.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. What are you doin’ here?” He asks exasperatedly, dragging a hand down his jaw while looking at your trembling figure.

There’s a long pause before you answer. You just got distracted by his big brown eyes.

“Jus’ wanted to say hi.” You murmur, unable to tear your gaze away from his face.

“Say hi?” He reiterates, looking at you like you’ve actually lost your mind.

You probably have.

After a moment, Joel can’t help but chuckle in disbelief, letting his body lean back against the couch.

The absurdity of it all turned humorous to him.

Here you are, sitting in his living room, practically nude with only his coat and blankets protecting your modesty, having just trekked through the snow all for what? To say hey?

You’re still sitting there, motionless and trying to remember how to breathe because his laughing face has your heart lighting off fireworks.

“Fuckin’ hell—hi.” Is all he says, turning his head to the side to look at you as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You smile like a dope at him, so extremely happy to be there in his company.

But the alcohol in your system is fighting you, and you’re finding it hard to keep your eyes open.

“S’it cool if I say the nigh?” You slur, falling vertically on the couch, your head crashing onto Joel’s thigh.

You nuzzle your cheek against the fabric of his jeans and Joel is just about to gently push you off, but he stops himself.

You look so comfortable and so at peace that Joel can’t do anything except stare at you.

Your cheek is slightly smushed, your lips are parted, your eyes are shut and don’t plan on opening—it’s insane to him how at home you looked.

Like you belonged here, head rested on his lap.

Fuck.

He was fucked this time.

He doesn’t move you. Instead, he fixes the blankets on top of you so you’re fully covered, and sits there with you the entire night.

He’s really gone soft.

***

When morning comes, you’re first to wake up, accompanied by a splitting headache.

You don’t even notice how Joel’s hand had fallen onto your waist some time during the night because you’re too busy making a b-line for the bathroom.

You chuck your guts up into the toliet, clutching the porcelain and groaning out in pain.

Joel wakes up to the sound of your hurling, momentarily disoriented before he remembers last nights events.

He’s quick to come to your aid in the bathroom, wasting no time gathering your hair in his fist to get it out of your face.

"S'right, get it all out," He murmurs out encouragingly, seemingly unfazed by the disheveled sight of you.

You’re too sick to be embarrassed, that’ll come later surely.

He sits on the wall of the tub as he continues holding your hair back, yawning every now and then like this was just a regular Tuesday morning.

Eventually, by the mercy of God, you get it all out of your system and slump up against the wall.

“M’sorry,” You immediately apologize, figuring that is the only right move in this situation.

“Don’t be. Been through plenty'a that in my day.”

His words are uncharacteristically reassuring and you find yourself taken back by them.

You soon realize this is probably just the hazy morning Joel, the Joel where he isn't worried about anything except coffee and breakfast—like everything wrong in his life is put on the back burner for this short minute in time.

“I’ll get you some water and Advil, sit tight.” He grunts before standing up on his feet, knees popping as he walks out.

You watch as he leaves, wiping the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand.

Aside from the vomit part, you could get used to this.

You've never seen him so...domestic. His hair was all messy, his voice was raspy, he had that morning haze over his features that you felt so honored to witness.

You suddenly felt compelled to look at your own appearance, hopping to your feet and looking in the dirty mirror.

You resist the urge to audibly gasp at your reflection, opting for a disgusted look instead.

Your hair is a rats nest, your clothes are a mess, and your mascara has rubbed off in black smudge all over the skin around your eyes.

In a desperate attempt to look at least semi-presentable, you wash your face with water and comb through your hair with your fingers.

The idea that Joel had seen you looking like that was making your stomach churn again.

Before you can grovel about it any longer, he rounds the corner with a glass of water and little brown pills in his hand.

“Here,” He says softly, handing you the water and tilting the pills into your open palm. “Take these ‘n drink all that water and ya should get to feelin’ better.”

You do as he says, swallowing the Advil in one go before taking a big sip to wash it down.

His eyes drift down to your shoulder, where your tank top strap has fallen. No doubt from all that vigorous throwing up you were doing moments ago.

Without thinking, his fingers graze your forearm before bringing the strap back up to its correct position, clearing his throat in the process.

A beat of silence falls over the both of you.

You’re gobsmacked by the complete nonchalance of his touch, staring at him with your mouth slightly open in shock.

“What?” He asks defensively, his tone pointed.

You look between him and your shoulder strap, then slowly move to set your water down.

“Are you sure we can’t fuck?”

“Goddammit—” Joels cursing before you can even finish saying the last word in your sentence.

He turns away from you, probably the fastest you’ve seen anyone turn in their life, and walks towards his room with an accelerating pace.

He shakes his head in disbelief all the way down the hall, pivoting on his heel to duck into his bedroom.

You follow him, not really fazed by how he completely refused to answer your question, though you didn’t think he would anyway.

Before you can step foot into the threshold of his room, Joel walks out, causing you to back up.

He shoves a stack of clothes in your direction, looking down at you with a frustrated face. “Put these clothes on and go home.”

You look down, realizing he was letting you borrow a sweater and jeans of his so you didn’t die walking back to your house from the cold.

Your heart warms at this thoughtfulness.

Without wasting any time, you take the clothes from his hands, smiling happily. “Can I keep them?”

“Why the hell would you wanna keep my clothes?” He’s got that confused/angry look on his face as he asks, and you have to suppress a giggle at the sight of it.

You bring the pieces of fabric up to your nose and inhale, humming as you breathe out again. “They smell like you.”

“Christ,” Joel beings his hands up to rub at his eyes. “Fine, do whatever. Just hurry up and change, jesus,"

Ever the tease, you set down his clothes and begin to lift your tank top like you planned to change right in front of him.

Joel's hands shoot out to stop you, a 'don't try me,' look on his face.

"Put them on over your clothes," Joel says sternly, watching the way you sigh because you weren't fast enough in lifting your tank top off.

However, you sieze the opportunity in front of you.

Joel's hands are holding yours down, so you work to intertwine your fingers, invading his space by stepping forward.

"Or, you could take my clothes off," You purr, your chest now flush with his torso.

Joel exhales through his nose, his jaw clenching as he tried deciding how he was going to get out of this situation.

But then he paused.

Looking down at you now, so eager and wide eyed, made him wonder.

If he fucked you, and made you realize it wasn't what you were probably imagining in your head, maybe then you'd finally leave him alone.

He would just...pretend to be awful at sex.

(Even though it had been so long and he wasn't sure if he'd actually need to 'pretend' anymore.)

There's a long silence that drags out between the both of you.

Your stomach is doing flips because it's looking like he's finally going to agree.

His resolve cracks and Joel can't do anything but sigh in defeat.

Slowly, Joel pulls you back into his room, closing the door behind you both.

Time is moving in slow motion.

You can't believe it's finally happening.

He guides you back until the back of your knees hit his bed, prompting you to sit down on it.

"I'm only going to do this once," Joel's voice is uncharacteristically low and calm, and it has your core tightening.

You nod in acknowledgement, waiting to see what he's going to do next.

With care, he pushes your shoulder down so you're laying on your back. "Are you sure you want this?" He asks, brown eyes searching yours.

"Have I not made it obvious?" You quip, a giggle following shortly after.

Joel only shakes his head before his fingers latch around the fabric of your shorts, pulling them down and off your legs.

"S'pose you have." He murmurs, scratching the back of his neck.

You're vibrating with excitement and you repeat what you tried earlier, only this time succeeding with taking your top off.

Of course, you're not wearing a bra.

Joel realizes in that moment that he bit off way more than he could chew.

He hasn't seen breast that weren't on a soggy piece of paper in at least a few years, and yours--well, his cock stood no chance.

You hear him swallow, watching as he can't seem to stop staring at your chest.

Realizing that he might need a little encouragement to start speeding things along, you smile up at him and whisper, "touch me Joel".

Yeah, screw this. His plan of pretending to be bad was now entirely forgotten—he was going to do what he wanted, so help him god.

He huffs out a curse before sliding a hand up your torso, stopping once he's fully cupped one of your breasts in one hand. He kneads it like dough while using his other hand to disappear under your panties.

A choked moan erupts from your lips once you feel his fingers brush along your clit, rubbing around and spreading your slick around all too slowly.

"haven't even done anythin' yet and you're already fuckin' soaked..." He murmurs really to just himself, his eyes casting down to watch as he rips your underwear off impatiently.

"M'always like this whenever you're around," you mewl to spur him on, spreading your legs wider.

"Oh you are, huh?" Joel repeats back, the tiniest bit of cruelty in his tone that makes you shiver.

You nod, bucking your hips into his hand desperately.

"don't get why you like an old man like me, s'gross." His tone is flat but it's clear he's teasing by the way he curls his fingers inside of you. He's not really expecting a response, but you feel compelled.

You lurch forward, gasping at the feeling. "I really like you," You rush out breathlessly. "I'd do anything you wanted me to." You say earnestly as you stare into his eyes, loving what you're seeing.

Joel remembers when you told him that the first time, his heart cinching the same way it did then.

Joel is at war with himself. One side of him is screaming that this whole situation is fucked up and he is better off without you.

Another part of him thinks that this is the most he’s ever felt in a long time. And he doesn't want to lose it.

You can see the gears turning in his head. His fingers have slipped from you and you wince at the loss.

Slowly, you sit up. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, your nipples pressing into his shirt.

He's confused and momentarily panicked when your faces get so close together, his hands seeking purchase on your hips.

In an unexpected move, you rake your hands through the side of his hair, looking lovingly at his face.

"I just wanna be someone for you," You murmur, your face breaking a little as Joel's resolve also cracks. "Doesn't matter what. I'm very versatile." You mumble the last part to try and lighten the mood.

Joel just stares at you—something swimming behind his eyes that you can't quite place.

Eventually, he crashes his forehead against yours, sighing out.

"You're makin' this fuckin' impossible." He rasps before kissing you with a passion you've never felt before.

You feel victorious.

He's finally given in to you.

Eagerly, you kiss back, wrapping your legs around his torso and grinding your bare cunt against the bulge in his jeans.

"Then stop trying so hard to get rid of me," You sigh out, chasing his lips even as you're trying to speak.

He groans and you catch it in your mouth, the pressure on his clothed cock making him dizzy.

“Fuck,” He’s quick to unbuckle his belt, sliding it out of the loops and tossing it somewhere on the floor. “Lay back.” He demands and you immediately follow suit.

He's never been that...assertive with you before. It makes you tingle all over.

He looks starved as he peers down at you, specifically your cunt.

He literally can’t tear his eyes off your sex—he only looks up to your gaze when you let out an impatient whine.

He rips down his pants, letting his cock spring free and slap against his stomach.

Now you can’t tear your eyes away from his sex.

You’ve only dreamt it so many times, but now that it’s finally in front of you—it all just feels surreal.

It’s better than you imagined, perfect.

“I don’t have a—”

You know what he’s about to say so you cut him off immediately. “S’okay, like it raw. Closer to you that way.” You murmur.

Joel looks physically pained that he’s not inside you right now. For some reason, you just know all the right things to say.

“Closer to me?” He huffs out, hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling you down to the edge of the bed where he stood.

Now your cunt is flush with the base of his member and the sensation drives you both insane. “You’re fuckin’ insane.”

Joel rasps, but the way he says it reveals just how far he’s fallen. He knows you’re crazy, and yet here he is, balancing you out.

He glides his member back and forth against your folds, gathering up your wetness with a clenched jaw and furrowed brows.

He looks so concentrated—meanwhile you’re writhing with pleasure and impatience. Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for him.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs to himself, eyes tracing all over you.

You freeze.

Joel had complimented you for the first time, and it was genuine.

He notices you stiffen and takes a moment to pause.

Your entire body erupts with goosebumps, your heart beating at exceptionally fast speeds.

He's worried for a second that something is horribly wrong.

“What?” He asks, confused at what’s got you so wound up.

Your face is flushed red as you bashfully giggle. “You called me pretty.”

Ah fuck.

Joel finds you so charming it hurts.

After he remembers how to breathe again, he rolls his eyes and clears his throat.

“I have my cock to your cunt, of course I find you pretty.”

You smile and shrug. “Still. Nice to hear.” You’re all smiles until his tip prods at your entrance, causing a gasp to leave your throat.

He continues to apply pressure with his tip and it’s driving you crazy.

“Fuck Joel—are you trying to kill me?” You whine, hips wiggling to get him in.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “Relax, m’almost there.”

Slowly, he begins pushing his way inside. His mushroom head breaches you entirely and it feels like you can hear the angels singing.

He continues forward, the stretch being mainly around the middle of his thick cock.

But you’re taking it like a champ.

Joel braces himself with hands on both sides of your torso as he bottoms out, a groan crawling its way out of his throat.

The sensation is absolutely delicious.

A little bit of pain from the stretch, but so much pleasure from the fullness.

“Joel, ohmygod you feel so good inside me.” You moan, throwing your head back.

Your hips start moving on their own, but he immediately stops you with two large hands.

“D-Don’t move—fuck.” Joel grumbles out, his face pinched together in what looked like pain.

You’re confused for a moment, thinking maybe that he might just be really into cockwarming.

But then it hits you.

“Were you gonna come?” The tone in your voice makes it seem like you’d be elated if that was the case—like the most flattering thing in the world.

Joel looks pissed that you caught on so quick.

In truth, the moment he put his tip in, he was holding back his orgasm.

Can you blame him? He’s only fucked his hand for the last couple years.

“S’been a while.” Is all he can say, his chest heaving up and down in concentration. You know he’s embarrassed, but you can’t help but smile like a dope at him.

“If you come, please do it inside, please,” you beg, reaching out for his arms that caged you in.

Joel's rational mind feels like it just touched down in looney town after hearing your begging.

He feels crazy because he liked the thought of the idea you proposed. You even see him hesitate. But then he scoffs and shakes his head.

Joel drops down closer to your face, slowly starting to rock his hips into you. "Tryin' to baby trap me, girl?" He grunts in your ear, making you moan out.

Your walls are clenching down on him, and it’s making it that much harder to hold back. “No-no, promise, just wanna be full of you." You manage to blubber out...unconvincingly.

You probably didn't really want a baby with Joel, but your lust-driven brain was working on fumes and you just wanted to do what felt good.

Joel's grunting in your ear was not helping things. His fingers were gripping your hip so hard, you figured it would probably bruise tomorrow

Good. You wanted whatever he would give you.

"Christ--m'not gonna last much longer," Joel groans, picking his head up a little to meet your gaze. He wanted to kick himself for not being able to last, but when he saw your face, all those feelings disappeared.

You looked so--perfect. Soaking up the moment in case it was the last, god you hoped it wasn't the last time. Now that you've finally had a tase of him, you weren't sure you could live without it.

Your legs tighten around his waist, keeping him firmly in your cunt. Joel notices this and also your pleading eyes, a growl leaving his throat.

"Please, please, please, please," you beg, never breaking eye contact with him as his thrusts pick up speed.

He ruins your long string with pleas with a needy kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat like a starving man.

You accept it happily, moaning out into the kiss while Joel manhandles your hips to take his cock.

The feeling is damn near euphoric for both you and him. It gets even better when Joel's hand comes down to rub at your clit again.

Your back arches off the bed as you gasp and moan out, wrapping your arms back around his shoulders. "F-Fuck!" You moan into his ear, probably drooling on his shoulder in the process. "thankyouthankyouthankyou-" you sputter out in choked sobs. He was really good at working on your clit, you couldn't do anything else but thank him for it.

Joel feels a surge of something when he hears you. He's never had a woman thank him in bed before.

It's enough to push him over the edge. And apparently you too.

"I'm gonna come Joel, please don't stop," There are pools of tears in your eyes that Joel is just now noticing. He's about to reply to you, but he finds himself speechless when he feels your cunt start constricting and fluttering around him like a vice.

"Fuck!" He groans out loudly, his hips starting to falter in their rhythm. But then he picks up speed again, and in no time he's like a madman jackhammering into you.

You're a mess of screams and cries and moans underneath him, happily taking everything he was giving you.

When Joel feels himself about to come, he notices how your legs are still tightly wrapped around him, keeping him inside, and he manages to scoff out.

"Gotta let me go baby," You've never heard that pet name from him before, and it makes you crumble. His hands move to grab at your thighs, kneading the flesh there.

You whine out but reluctantly release the grip your legs had on him. Joel doesn't waste time before hugging both your legs on his chest, keeping them firmly placed while your feet squirmed by his ear.

"Atta girl," he murmurs before picking up speed again, his cock head pressing into your cervix.

It's all too much for you. Joel looks so amazing pounding into you from above, his concentrated face, his sweat, the way his salt and pepper hair is all disheveled, you're losing your mind.

Your core is on fire and you can't stop yourself.

In a staggering turn of events, you come first.

Your walls come down like bricks on his dick, you cry out, throwing your head back in complete bliss and ecstasy.

Seeing and feeling this, Joel is quick to follow in your steps. He rips himself from that warm hole of yours and pumps himself dry onto your stomach.

You watch it all with wide eyes, you wouldn't have missed Joel's orgasm face for the world!

Of course, his eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth was open as he was breathing heavily, and his eyebrows turned down like he was mad.

God he was so beautiful.

His thick ropes of cum shoot all over your stomach and even your breasts as he jerks himself off to completion.

When he finishes, he takes a moment to catch his breath, finally opening his eyes to see you scoop up his cum from your breast with your finger and shove it in your mouth.

Your tongue swirls around his seed and you swallow eagerly, humming out in satisfaction at the taste of him.

Joel's watching in complete fascination, though his expression looks a little angry. When does it not?

"taste so good," you mumble with your finger still in your mouth, looking up at him with your big eyes.

He moves before he can think about it--ripping your hand away from your lips and caging you in a slow but deep kiss.

He soon falls down beside you and soon rolls over onto his back, his chest rising and falling from the excursion.

You curl into his side, watching his side profile so intently. You had just fucked Joel Miller.

And it was everything you had dreamed of. Extreme happiness doesn't even begin to describe your feelings right now.

There's a long stretch of silence that drapes over the both of you. Eventually, Joel breaks it with something extremely off topic.

"Last night...you didn't just come here to say 'hi', did you?"

You're momentarily speechless, not expecting that question from him at all. But you can't stop a giggle from coming through your lips.

"Actually, I came to confront you." Your voice is soft as you begin speaking, thinking back to last night's ordeal.

Joel doesn't expect this answer, his head turns to look at you while you speak. His arm comes down to drape over your shoulder.

"I was really upset cus you rejected me n'all. I just couldn't accept the whole, 'age gap' excuse. I wanted to know if you just really didn't like me or not." You're murmuring, drawing soft lines with your finger on the skin of Joel's chest.

He huffs out a breath at the explanation, shaking his head. "Guess you got your answer, huh." He grumbles out, somewhat ashamed of himself that he couldn't hold back.

You smile and lean up to kiss his cheek. "I did," you chirp happily, admiring his face again. "You know you're gonna have to fuck me, like, everyday now, right?"

You're kidding. But you're also not at all.

Joel scoffs and sits up, moving to pick up both his and your shirts. "Fat chance. Barely had enough stamina for one round." He grunts out, finding the neck hole in your tank top and putting it over your head for you.

You don't bother to pull it down over your breasts so Joel does it for you.

"It's okay, we can build up your tolerance over time." You quip with a teasing smile, loving the way Joel turned to glare a you.

He couldn't believe the youth these days.

[sugucidal]

# HOW TO SEDUCE YOUR NEIGHBOR 101 !!

CHAPTER ii. [9.1k words]

୨୧‬┊pairing: toji fushiguro x fem! reader

୨୧‬┊synopsis: the shopping trip you were forced to go on with Toji doesn't go exactly as planned.

୨୧‬┊warnings: taboo cw! + semi-smut + age difference (reader is 19 and toji is 34 ) + slow burn + one-sided pining + attempt at humor + slice of life + reader takes multiple L's + megumi is mentioned + reader gets objectified (not by toji) + toji is a serial hoe

୨୧‬┊a/n: make sure to check out my main post! ive included a pinterest board for everything described + a playlist ♡

MAIN POST | part i. > part ii. > part ii.

You didn't know if it was a blessing in disguise, or a curse. Perhaps a cruel joke the world was playing on you like it always did. Yet here you were again, your knee high fluffy socks skidding across the oakwood flooring of your room, scouring through your closet like a deranged cat looking for something to wear on today's decor run.

"Shoes, shoes…I'm missing shoes," digging through the furthest corner in the enclosed space of your closet, you spotted an unopened box on one of the shelves. It was a simple pair of heeled, white mary janes with a heart buckle. You got it 2 birthdays ago but never saw an opportunity to wear them, until now.

Your mother told you that Toji was picking you up at 10:30 am despite you telling her that you would go after lunch.

'He's a busy man. He said this is the only time he's free today.'

"Yeah, of course he is. Always busy doing God knows what." Sighing, you decided on your ensemble for this morning. It was rushed and unplanned, but it would have to do.

Looking at the time on your phone, you saw that it was 10:15. You've still got 15 more minutes left till Toji arrives to pick you up. Letting out a breath, you sat on your bed, shoe cladded toes tapping the floor as your knee bounced, restlessly waiting.

Going over to your floor length mirror, you checked over your choice of outfit once more. It wasn't too cold of a day, so you opted for a knitted long sleeved, off-the-shoulder, cream toned sweater dress that hugged your curves. With its hem stopping just right underneath your ass.

You were debating between thigh highs or leg warmers, but decided leg warmers looked better scrunched down on your ankles with the shoes you opted to wear. You didn’t do much with your hair last night since you were only at home, but since you were going out in public today, you felt like doing something with it. Something cute specifically, as you opened your vanity drawer deciding which accessory to wear today. Picking some silk ribbon you saw laying about, you braided it into your hair, sealing it with a rubber band and tying an extra ribbon into a bow to conceal it. And finally, you had your bag. Well, more like bear. The teddy bear backpack you had on matched well with the neutral color scheme. So, you went for it. Honestly, you reminded yourself of a doll. A doll with a pretty face, and a whole lot of problems.

Taking a deep breath, you puffed out your chest. Your confident expression stared back at you, but on the other side of that mirror you felt nothing but anxiety simmering the longer you stood there in silence.

"I might as well wait for Toji outside then." It was no use standing around in your room. The bed looked way too inviting as it only made you think of excuses not to go. You wouldn't let your bed get the best of you this time.

Walking down the stairs, you headed towards the entrance, petting your cat's furry head along the way. Upon opening the door, you were met with the sight of freshly layered snow. It was thin, barely half an inch thick, but it already had you feeling a little better with the anticipation of making a snowman with it once the days got colder. You remember there was a time when you used to do that with Toji.

God, you can't even reminisce about the past without Toji having some part in it.

You desperately needed to figure out how you were going to do this.

Last night was a bust. Not much progress was made besides the fact that Toji actually spoke to you for the first time in years. Not that he had much chance to do so sooner even if he wanted to, with you a couple hours away from home and all. But it was the bare minimum. Right now you needed a plan, and you needed to think of one fast.

Standing against the railing of your porch, you sorted through your thoughts. You're going to get picked up by Toji in less than 10 minutes. You'll ride in his car, pretend that everything's okay because it is, you'll buy whatever this party needs, and if it goes well you'll confront him on the ride back home. And that'll be the end of that.

Easy.

But when is anything ever easy when it comes to that man. Nothing. The answer has always been nothing.

This line of thought has you so deep into your own frustration that you don't even realize you've been ranting to your teddy bear backpack. Murmuring to it harshly, and rolling your eyes like you're gossiping with a friend about the latest dumb thing that happened on Twitter today.

And it's only when you see a black pickup truck from your peripheral vision pulling up, that you stare back at the bear in horror. Mind being snapped back to the present, and feeling embarrassed that you were seen like this. A man was causing you this much turmoil, that you've been complaining to a damn backpack about it.

Quickly putting your bag back on, you smoothed out your sweater dress. You really fucking hope he didn't see that.

Facing towards the driveway you paused. Your eyes widened, already in awe at the vehicle as you saw it more clearly up close.

The last car you saw Toji with was an old, red Toyota truck. It did it’s job, but definitely not without a couple repairs here and there every so often (that you may or may not have checked him out while he was doing so.) So seeing this new, shiny, black Chevy parked right outside the driveway was definitely an exciting upgrade. The wheels were lifted, making the body higher than its original design, and the windows were tinted midnight black, making it nearly impossible to see who was inside unless you stuck a cheek to the glass.

Overall it was big, and intimidating.

Just like him.

'Guess those freelancing jobs paid off then.’

*BEEP BEEP*

Jesus. You didn't even notice Toji had already parked. How long were you just staring at it for? If he started to honk at you, it must’ve been more than what society deemed normal.

Running up to the passenger side of the truck, albeit meekly, you stopped right in front of the door just as the tinted windows were being pulled down giving you a better view of the inside. There sat Toji on the other side, upper body turned and facing towards you with one hand still on the wheel.

Toji’s eyes almost popped out of his sockets at your appearance but it was quickly masked by a look of amusement.

"You busy daydreaming or what?"

Ignoring his remark, you placed your hands on the edge of the cold glass, peering up at him and around the interior.

“So, new truck huh?”

"Oh this? Yeah, got it not too long ago after receiving my payment for….from work."

You squinted your eyes in suspicion, noticing that he caught his words, but you weren't going to question it. No, you were going to let it go. You knew he wouldn’t tell you anything anyway, most likely just brushing it off as suddenly being hit with a stutter. He never spoke about his “overseas” jobs that he apparently racked up stacks of cash from, and despite him saying it was only freelancing work, you had a hunch it was something a lot shadier than that. You weren’t that dumb. Which is exactly why you weren’t going to ask.

Choosing to stay oblivious, you gave a compliment instead. "It's nice, Toji. Really."

You were about to open the door to get in and cut the small talk short (and because you’d rather bask in the in-system heating than out in the cold) but it wouldn’t budge. It was still locked. Why isn’t he unlocking the door?

Instead of unlocking the door for you like normal people do when picking up a person with their car, Toji isn't exactly someone you'd consider normal. Instead, Toji looked you up and down slowly as an awkward silence took over. You stood there rigid, allowing him to unashamedly undress you with his eyes. At least you think that's what he was doing. He’s being really bold today…does he seriously not plan to open this door?!

Your mind was running a mile per minute. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but you kind of liked the attention he was giving you right now. Especially since he hadn’t bothered to give you any last night. Not that you blame him. Looks like the effort you had put in, despite being rushed, was working, leaving him dumbstruck. You felt proud that you managed to have him speechless.

Unfortunately, your sudden boost in ego was quickly shut down.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Oh. Talk about anticlimactic.

"Huh? W-what do you mean?"

"I mean," He stood there, a single eyebrow raised, and vaguely gesturing to your form with his hand, "This."

Looking around to see if anyone else was witnessing this, you quirked your head in question. "What about it?"

"I know ya didn't just decide to go out looking like that when it's freezing out here. Go back upstairs and put some real clothes on." He looked at you sternly with a scowl etching onto the scarred side of his lip, arms crossing in front of his chest.

Was Toji actually scolding you right now? The nerve of this guy!

You hadn’t seen it right away, but after staring back at him in disbelief at what you were hearing, you noticed his own personal ensemble.

There’s no damn way…

Looking up and down at him as he had done to you just moments prior, you saw that he was wearing an unzipped puffer jacket with a hoodie underneath which was fine, you had no issues regarding that. The problem was what he was wearing below.

This man, who was condemning you on your sweater dress because it was apparently unfit for “freezing” temperatures, was wearing shorts and slides. At least he wore socks with it, if he hadn’t you think you may have actually gone back home and let him do the shopping himself.

You couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, but quickly shut up after seeing Toji wasn’t finding this as amusing as you were.

This was crazy.

Tilting your head to the side, you scrunch your nose in disbelief. “You’re telling me to put warmer clothes on, when you’ve got shorts and slides on?”

Toji was quick to counter. “It’s not the same, don’t compare it.”

“Yeah it is!”

“Look kid, I’m not gonna argue with ya. Either change your clothes, or stay home.”

That’s exactly what you want to do. But you know deep down you can’t, you already told yourself you had to sort things out with him. And the first step to that, is sorting this out.

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After a couple pleading looks and adamant convincing of, 'I'm not cold!' 'I swear I'm fine. It doesn't even feel like winter out here!'

Toji relented. Letting out a sigh, shaking his head as he told you, 'Fine, whatever. But don’t come cryin’ at my feet when your stubborn ass gets sick and your mom gets mad at you.'

Now here you were, seated on the heated, brand new black leather seats of his Chevy after he finally gave in and unlocked the door, letting you in. You spent the trip with your head resting against the palm of your hand somberly, as you watched the scenery of snowy trees and other cars pass by.

The awkwardness throughout the entire car ride was at an all-time high. Higher than what it'd started out with earlier. You were both quiet; your brain a little less. Toji's disappointment regarding your attire was a total blow to your ego. You were just trying to look cute.

Not like it was meant for him anyway.

Is what you wanted to try convincing yourself in order to feel better, but really, you knew it was a lie.

As for Toji, that thought you had earlier about him ogling you? It was right on the money.

But he had to quickly save face by instead acting like a concerned adult worrying about the wellbeing of his innocent, young neighbor. If he was being honest, he didn’t give two shits about what you chose to wear. As long as it was for his eyes only.

Yes, he knew he’d hurt your feelings for telling you to go change. He understood that he was being overbearing and unreasonable especially after you brought up his own attire, but you had to understand. He physically couldn’t accept seeing you wearing an outfit that barely covered your ass like that in public when he should be the only one to see you looking like that. Yes, he was sick for looking at you that way and he knew that which is exactly why he needed you to cover up. Both so that no other creepy assholes (except himself) could see you that way, and because he doesn’t think he could control his thoughts about you for the next couple hours you have alone together. It’s why he had to shift in his seat a couple times. Though, you didn’t notice that.

This game you were playing with him? This seducing thing? With little skirts and shit, yeah it was doing something to him.

Maybe you haven’t changed as much as he thought. As they say, old habits die hard.

After about 15 more minutes of unspoken thoughts, you finally arrived at the store.

Why did you agree to do this again? Oh yeah, you didn't.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you took a deep breath to try and regain your composure. Just focus on the task. Opening the door, you hopped down and out onto the recently snow-shoveled pavement with Toji following suit as he turned off the truck, taking the keys from the ignition and shutting the door behind him.

You could feel Toji’s burning gaze boring into your back as he walked behind you, keeping a slight distance between you and him but still enough that people could tell that you two came together. Entering into the store, you whipped out your phone, unlocking it and clicking on the notes app filled with a list of things you needed to get that your mom instructed you two to buy. You crossed your fingers hoping you could get all this done quickly and smoothly.

Obviously, life loves to humor you because things did not go smoothly.

Everything was going well at first, you scoured the aisles looking for streamers, fairy lights, pretty napkins, silver and white balloons, and whatever else was needed; putting it all into the basket that Toji was holding, still following you like a sort of puppy—or more like a guard dog with the menacing aura he carried around himself with every step he took.

Walking around you’d occasionally find something that caught your eye, tinkering around with the item for a couple seconds before putting it back down and walking over to the next intriguing thing—like a snow globe you found of a character you recognized filled with pink and white sparkly snow. You bet your ass you added that one to the basket. That hello kitty snow globe was a need, not a want. How something like that even found its way to a store like this was beyond you, but hey, you weren’t complaining.

You even found cute little hats while looking around and managed to get Toji to wear a pair of elf ears while you wore a Santa hat, telling him a silly joke about how he was Santa’s jolliest helper. That only earned you a huff, and roll of his eyes as he took off the ears and pulled the hat you wore down over your face, chuckling as he watched you make dramatics about how you were being suffocated despite being able to breathe perfectly fine.

Interacting like this with him gave you butterflies. You’d let him ruin your perfectly styled hair if it meant things were going back to the way they used to be between you both.

Everything was going fine.

You were actually having…fun. Which you hadn’t anticipated. You were so caught up about feeling like you were on thin ice with Toji, and though you still sort of felt that way, you felt ecstatic that things were beginning to feel normal. Like nothing even happened.

“Hmm, looks like the last thing on this list are more scented candles. Thought we already had some? Oh well.” You shrugged your shoulders. You think your own obsession with candles might have stemmed from your mom now that you think about it.

Toji leaned his body over your shoulder, looking down over your list himself at the check marked boxes except for one. You immediately stiffened up, not expecting him to get so close to you, and especially not for him to make body contact with you. You wish you didn’t have all these layers in the way. You internally shook the thought off before it could escalate. Now was not the time to be having these touched starved thoughts!

Pulling away from you, but still keeping close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, he put the basket down next to your feet. “Yeah, I saw a couple of those on the other aisle we passed by.”

“Oh good! One of us can get it. Stay here and I’ll quickly-“ Your suggestion didn’t even have a chance to reach the other end of Tojis ears before it got shut down.

“Nah, you stay here, and stay put while I grab it. And don’t go straying off you understand, kid?” Toji looked down at you, waiting for your answer. He’d rather not leave your side, especially since he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t get distracted by something and walk off like a lost mouse-but he tried to reason out in his head that it was only one item. He’d quickly get it and come back, and you’d still be there.

You weren’t going anywhere.

So why did he find it so hard to walk away from you? Must be some type of trauma he thinks.

Nodding your head, with a ‘Mhm! Promise. Not going anywhere. Nope, staying put.’ Toji searched your face to see if you were lying but decided you weren’t, and began jogging off towards another aisle in a different section of the store.

He couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about this as he looked over at all the scented candles, picking up the most expensive looking ones.

“S’not my money anyway..”

Maybe he should’ve just taken you along with him. It’s not like it would’ve caused the both of you any more hassle than going alone would. Shit. Something was gnawing at Toji to hurry the hell up and get back to you. As he briskly walked to the aisle where he had left you, he was met with something far worse than overpriced décor, and it had him seething.

There you were, face scrunched up, and looking highly uncomfortable as some random guy, around your age it seemed, was trying to flirt with you.

Keyword: Trying.

Toji didn’t know who this guy was but he knew damn well what was happening, and he wasn't going to let it slide. Not on his watch. That he wasn't even wearing. 

You hadn't noticed Toji's arrival yet. Still preoccupied with keeping calm and trying to ignore this random man that thought it would be chivalrous of himself to make comments about your body. Saying things about how he doesn't know why your man let you out like that, and if you were his bitch he wouldn't let you out his sight.

It's a good thing Toji wasn't there to hear any of that.

What Toji did hear as he was silently coming up behind the both of you, that almost made him run up and deck the guy in the nuts was when he leaned his body down exaggeratedly to look at your ass and said, "DAMN. That's more ass than…. I've seen….in a while!"

This prick didn't even know where the hell he was going with that line, but Toji sure knew where that guy was gonna end up if he tried it again.

At this point, you were more than ready to kick this guy in the balls, but you didn't want to anger him. Who knows what this guy has got going on in his head? He's harassing you at a decor store for fucks sake!

Before you were thinking about making a run for it to the direction of where Toji had gone, deeming your situation helpless without him; it seemed like someone finally answered your prayers because the moment you looked back, there he was standing right behind the both of you.

'How did I not notice him?? He's wearing slides for god sake! I should've heard the 'plip' 'plaps'!'

"The fuck are you doing?"

The guy was still leaning down when Toji spoke up. He was about to cuss out whoever this other guy was for interrupting his daily "I objectify women for fun" hobby, until he looked up. There Toji stood, 6'2, built like he was made for war, in his shorts and slides, holding candles, and a look so threatening etched onto his face, you think this guy may have almost shit his pants. If the audible gulp meant anything.

"O-oh fuck. Look sir, I was just admiring your hard work, very beautiful daughter you have here. Didn't realize…Sorry." The way he ran away was almost pitiful. Almost. But none of you had any pity for trash.

'Well that was quick', Toji thought. He assumed he might've had to light up this candle he was holding and choke him with it but it seems that wouldn't be happening today.

That's one less crime the authorities could pinpoint on him.

Turning his attention towards you, he asked if you were alright.

"Sort of…not really. Being objectified isn't exactly the greatest feeling…" Toji noticed the way you hugged your hands around yourself, most likely trying to cover up. Suddenly feeling too exposed for comfort despite attempting to brush the interaction off.

Maybe you should've listened to Toji earlier and changed your clothes to something more fitting for winter weather. Screw looking cute.

Though, the regret didn't have a chance to get very far because suddenly you were being brought back to the present.

"Lift your arms up."

Huh? "Wh- why?" The next thing he did nearly had your heart leaping out of your chest. Taking off his puffer jacket, he nudged your arms to lift up so he could help put it through the holes of the sleeves. After checking to make sure it was on properly, he zipped it up a bit more than halfway and patted you down in an effort to make you look a little bit less like the emo version of the Michelin Man.

"You gonna be okay?" You were still a little surprised at the gesture, especially since it was coming from him of all people, but you answered, "..Yeah. Yeah, I'll be okay."

"Good. Lemme finish paying for all this crap and I'll drop you off at your place."

Leading the way towards the cashier, he placed his large palm over your lower back and kept it there until your goods were paid for, and you were out the door.

Situating yourself on the seats of Toji's car, you couldn't help but feel a smile creep up on you, desperately trying to bite it back. You're wearing his coat.

He put his coat on you.

You think you could die of happiness right now. But, you'll save that for later. That whole fiasco that happened at the store still had your mood all sour. You really didn't want to go home yet. And as Toji began to pull out of the parking lot, you spoke up.

"Toji? I don't really feel like going home yet.."

"Yeah? Aight. We'll stop somewhere, I know a place."

Nodding your head, you mumbled a 'thanks', grateful that he took the hint and didn't try to argue with you or ask any questions. Toji can be empathetic when he wants to be sometimes.

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Apparently, when Toji said he 'knew a place', you didn't expect it to be…this.

"Cinnabon? Really?"

"What? You don't like their cinnamon buns? We can go someplace else if you don't want em.” 

You paused. Well, now that you were thinking about it…"Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I do like those."

“Besides,” Walking over to the counter to order, Toji got into line, “I remember ya telling me one time that you liked this place." 

He still remembers something like that? 

You didn’t answer. Instead you followed the nod of Toji’s head telling you to leave the ordering to him and to go find a table to sit at. Looking around, you saw that all the tables were already preoccupied. Damn. Walking back to Toji, you suggested ordering it to go and just finding some place else to sit at like that wooden bench you saw just outside the establishment, which he seemed to favor far more.

Leaving him to his vices, you exited the shop and went to sit outside on the storefront bench, patiently waiting for Toji to get back with your food. Looking around there was still a thin sheet of snow covering some areas of the pavement, most having melted throughout the day or driven over by now. Yet it seemed as though the temperature had no plans of rising as you breathed out a puff of steam, remaining at its crisp, nearly frosty condition. It felt peaceful.

The few minutes of alone time you had to yourself was the most silence your brain has allowed itself to be in within the 24 hours of Tojis reintroduction into your life. 

The oversized puffer jacket you still had on made those hours feel shorter by reminding you of just how much "excitement" had managed to happen—you bet you looked silly as hell with it engulfing your frame, but you couldn't find it in you to care about that at this moment. Especially since it was serving its purpose of protecting you against the cold that you found yourself surrounded by as you sat there waiting.

Leaning back against the wood, you felt something hindering you from going all the way. Your teddy bear backpack. You forgot you even had it on as it was hidden underneath the coat Toji had quickly put on you. Yeah, you must've looked really stupid. Fighting back a grimace and ignoring the fact for your own peace of mind, you went to remove the coat. Leaving it piled behind you on the bench as you took off your bag, placing it onto your lap. 

Reaching into your bag, you took out your trusty emergency makeup kit. Wouldn't hurt to do a quick touch up… Looking over in the direction of the sudden sound of a bell being rung, you peered over to your left to see that it was just someone stepping foot out the shop with a cup of what looked to be hot chocolate. 

'Hopefully Toji get's back soon.'

Focusing back on the task at hand, you clicked open a compact inspecting the state of the way you looked with the mirror. The sight that greeted you brought out a breath of relief. Not a single thing out of place. But just in case, you patted on a little bit of powder for good measure, and reapplied your clear lipgloss so the cold air could struggle to nip at your lips. 

After assessing what needed to be assessed, you put your pouch back into your bag and immediately piped up at the sound of the door chiming again. You couldn't help but do a small cheer as you saw that it was finally Toji approaching you, carrying a bag containing your icing drenched cinnamon bun, a hot drink of some sort, and a bottle of water. 

Handing you your food and drink, you thanked him and immediately dug in once it was within your grasp. Taking a bite, a bit of steam emitted from the warm and gooey bun melting on your tongue, flooding your taste buds with a mix of sweet and nutty spice. Damn, you were a lot hungrier than you thought. But you suppose that's due to having skipped breakfast in the morning. Stuffing more into your mouth, your eyes met Toji's to see him already sitting beside you and looking down at you, snickering.

"Hwat?" The question came out muffled from your cheeks being stuffed like a squirrel.

He looked off to the side for a second, still snickering before he answered, "Nothin." 

Swallowing your food down harshly, you pouted with your brows scrunched together and took notice that you were the only one eating. 

"How come you didn't get yourself one?"

He deadpanned. "I don't want diabetes." 

"Right…of course not…" Such a Toji answer, you thought.

It felt a little weird to be the only one eating, but he kept refusing everytime you asked if he was absolutely sure he didn’t at least want a bite. It was silent between you two except for the occasional slurp of your drink, and you think Toji noticed it too because suddenly he started conversing with you, catching up a little bit on how the both of you have been.

"So kid, how's the university life been treatin' ya?"

"Hm? Oh uhm, it's been alright I guess." You shrugged, fork still in hand.

"Just alright? Sounds pretty lackluster to me."

"It is." You sighed. 

"You tellin' me you don't, what- party? Or done those weird cultist initiations you kids do at sororities." 

"Yeah…no. I'm too busy actually studying most of the time. I've been to like 2-ish? parties, but that's about it. And sororities? You couldn't possibly pay me to join one of those.” You’ve heard one too many stories of premature deaths being caused by sororities. You didn’t particularly feel like gambling your chances. Plus, you weren’t really into the whole sisterhood-brotherhood thing, too weird.

As the conversation progressed between your frankly unexciting school life, Toji recalled some neighborhood fiasco that happened while you were away. 

"...Then this kid's boyfriend starts beating up the guy that tried to take her purse."

"No way! This really happened in our neighborhood? Where like.. nothing ever happens?" To think that a crime had actually happened in the most safest, suburban of neighborhoods that you lived in for your whole life and you weren't there to witness it.

"I'm tellin' ya it was set up to make himself look good. A robbery in broad daylight? In this neighborhood? Bullshit."

"Why does all the exciting shit always happen when I'm not around?" You whined, sighing out your disappointment.

Closing the box to your nearly finished cinnamon bun and placing it beside you on the bench, you suddenly remembered something. 

"By the way! My mom told me you have a son? How come you never mentioned him to me before?"

And just like that, Tojis brows immediately furrowed as if the question was one he hadn't expected to be asked, especially not coming from you. Leaning forward with a grunt, he rested an elbow on his knee, propping a palm under his chin as he proceeded to look at you with the most dramatically bored expression you’ve ever seen on someone's face- one that rivaled even yours.

It screamed, ‘let's get this shit over with.’

"You never asked. Besides, why you askin' about him now?" 

You noticed the way his mood instantly changed after mentioning him but...it was probably nothing right?

Regardless, he didn't seem to be exactly… excited at the mention of his son, so you treated lightly with your next words. “Well, my mom is telling me that I should start looking for a good boy to date and she mentioned your son.” 

He laughed out in disbelief. “Gumi? That boy? Ha, good luck with that. He wouldn’t know the first thing on how to treat a girl.” 

He couldn’t treat you the way I could. Is what he wanted to say. 

Awkwardly you answered, “Well… anyway, I don't think he even goes to my Uni…I think. So it wouldn't really be an option.” 

Toji stayed silent. 

The sudden uncomfortable silence that took over had you overthinking all over again. 

What's wrong? Does he have a bad relationship with his son? Is that why he looks irritated? Should I ask? No. He might get more irritated. Shit. Okay, subject change.

Slamming your hands onto your thighs a little too hard in an attempt to calm your nerves, the sound seemed to catch Tojis attention. Snapping him out of whatever trance he was in, and back to his usual demeanor.

You rubbed your arms out of awkwardness. “Sooo, yeah. Sucks, I wasn't there to witness a fraudulent act of chivalry right in my own neighborhood."

Toji was thankful you moved on from the topic of his son, he didn’t want to think of that little squirt right now. 

But then it got him wondering…

"You ever had a boyfriend before?" 

The question surprised you a little. Okay maybe a lot. You didn't think he'd be even remotely interested in your love life. 

"No… I've never had one." While there was no shame in not having had a significant other at your age, still you couldn't help but feel embarrassed admitting it to Toji.

Toji raised a brow in suspicion. "You sure you're staying clear of boys?" 

This behavior he was exhibiting was starting to confuse the hell out of you. First he scolds you on your attire this morning, and now he's interrogating you on your love life? He was being way overprotective, almost acting as a parent, and it was seriously beginning to make you feel hopeless. 

You nodded. "Yes, Toji. I'm not interested in college guys. They don't know what they're doing,"

That answer seemed to be good enough for Toji, but to both his and your utter surprise you continued, "But I've done other things."

Straightening his back up against the wooden bench in interest, Toji beckoned you to continue on. Truth be told, he didn't want to hear you talking about boys. Just the thought of you with some dumbass little boy made him irrationally bothered. But there was one thing itching at him to ask. 

One thing he simply had to know.

"Oh yeah?"

"Just casual stuff. Nothing serious.."

Toji hummed. It was cute how you were beating around the bush about whatever 'things' you've done. He'll humor you this time around.

"We talkin' the 'clothes on' type of stuff?"

"Well…not exactly.." 

Your lack of elaboration following your answer made Toji egg you on further.

"Don't start gettin' all shy on me now. Let me take a guess, this has somethin' to do with how you mentioned that college boy's don't know what they're doing, yeah?

And like clockwork, the words proceeded to flow past the tip of your tongue without a second thought.

"Remember how I also mentioned earlier that I've gone to only a few parties? Well at one of those parties, I got left alone by my friends in favor of hooking up with some guys they thought were hot." 

"Sounds like some shitty friends." 

You grunted. "Tell me about it. Anyways, here I am, sitting alone on this couch that's thankfully only mildly sticky from whatever wasted student had spilled their drink on top of it, and this guy sits right next to me. We talk, things happen, and we find an empty room."

Toji hums, signaling to you that he's still listening.

Immediately, irritation is apparent on your face by the way your eyes narrow as you recall the memory. "He puts his hands in my pants and this dumbass can't for the life of him find where my clit is and is just rubbing around. Then he has the nerve to ask if I came yet!? Bitch I'm not even moaning!"

Toji nods, intently listening to your rant. Biting back his amusement at your outburst.

"And the same fuckin thing happens again except with a different guy I had been seeing for less than a week. Except—get this, he asks me what a clit is. Like are you for real!?"

Taking a deep breath, you tried channeling your nerves. "So that's that. College boy's don't know where the clit is—hell, they don't even know of its existence." 

Slumping your shoulders, you kicked at the tiny stones on the cement with your shoe. 

"It's why I've never gone further than that." 

If you were being honest, even if those guys did know their way around a woman's body, you don't think you could find it within yourself to stick around for it. You already knew what your mind was banging against your skull to say. Deep down, somewhere in the backrooms of your brain, you know it's because of Toji. It's always been him; the man you're still holding out for. Hoping he'd be the one to take your virginity. 

Whatever. It was a pipe dream anyway. And you definitely weren't going to tell him that.

Speaking of telling him…

‘Why did you tell him all that!? Why did you have to run your mouth!!’

You stammered out an apology. The gravity of what you just up and confessed dawned on you, leaving you a cringing mess from within.

"I-I'm sorry…I don't even know why im telling you all this-"

Toji is quick to dismiss the apology. Truth be told, he was delighted to hear that you were still a virgin.

“Don't worry bout it’. It's nothing to be embarrassed of.

“I mean yeah…but still…”

Turning to face you, Toji placed his hand gingerly upon your thigh, giving it a light squeeze in what you assumed to be an attempt at reassurance or maybe it was comfort? You couldn't really tell, you just knew that the warmth of it felt nice.

“Listen, if I’m tellin’ you that being a virgin is nothin’ to be ashamed of, then its not. Look at it this way, you ain’t a teen mom, something not many can say nowadays.” He shrugged.

He kind of had a point. Though his comforting skills were kind of ass.

“Yeah..okay. Thanks for listening then.”

“No problem.” 

You thought after your little rant the atmosphere would return to its awkward state as it seems that's how it had been every time you spoke with Toji—yet oddly enough, it felt like you had somehow managed to get closer to him by opening up about your struggles. 

Suddenly feeling a spout of hunger befall you once more, you took the last remaining bite of your cinnamon bun, slowly licking off the icing that had gotten smeared onto your lips. 

Toji eyed the action intently, internally shaking a head at himself. 

‘This little minx..’  but before you could make eye contact he abruptly withdrew his hand, fishing a phone out his pocket and checking the time. Huh, you hadn't even noticed his hand had still been on you.

“It's already almost 4, think it's time to call it a day.”

With a sound of surprise, you rose up from your seat, closing the box once more as you watched Toji stand up from his own spot, already patting on his pockets for the car keys. 

You hadn't even noticed that much time had gone by.

“Thanks again for the cinnamon buns and of course, for listening.” 

Toji only hummed in acknowledgement.

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The ride home was spent surrounded by the sounds of muffled radio chatter, ever so slightly noticeable with the engine of the truck at a constant thrum. The sun surprisingly hadn't gone down yet as it typically would have on any other winter day and you made sure to thank your lucky stars for those few more minutes of sunlight.

On the other hand, you couldn't help but feel sad. You didn't want the day to end yet, especially not when progress had been made between the two of you. Then it hit you, progress had been made. While you didn't actually confront him about what had transpired on that faithless day, it was still worth celebrating. 

Baby steps are still steps after all. 

And the more you thought about it, it began to occur to you that today…today kinda felt like a date. In a messed up sense. To others this would've been a failure of a day, but to you? You were elated.

‘Maybe now's my chance to talk to him about what happened back then.’

Sitting up just a little bit straighter in your seat, you turned your head to face Toji, contemplating on the right words to say to him. Just when you were on the verge of starting your sentence, Toji’s phone suddenly began to ring, vibrating atop the center console. 

Without bothering to check who was calling him, Toji answered the phone, putting it on speaker. Nothing to be worried about anyway, probably some scammer giving Toji his routine call.

“Yo, what’s up?”

Without a second to waste, a feminine voice practically cried from the other end.

“Tojiiii, baby it’s been so long, when are you coming over?? You know I miss you-” 

Before this unknown lady could hope to finish her sentence, she was abruptly hung up on–courtesy of Tojis hand flying to take the call off speaker, fumbling for a good second only to ultimately end the call for good measure.

Clearing his throat, Toji continued to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead. Can't be having you both end up in a car crash right? 

“Sorry about that, that was… just one of my old close friends.”

“Uh huh. Ya’ll must've been real close.”

Toji ignored the snark.

“Anyways, go ahead, what were you saying?” 

“I…wasn’t saying anything.”

Thankfully the call was received just minutes short of arriving at your home. Pulling into the driveway, the truck on neutral, you waited a few seconds to see if Toji would say anything more. He didn’t.

Holding back a shaky sigh, you unbuckle your seatbelt and exited the vehicle, opening the passenger side to pick up the bags of decor that you went to buy in the first place.

“Wait, let me help ya out-” Toji last minutely interjected as he turned his body over in his seat to face you.

“No need. I already got it.” Picking up the last bag (thankfully they weren’t very heavy), you slammed the passenger door shut. You contemplated giving Toji a proper farewell bidding but with the way you were feeling right now? You didn’t want him to see the ache painted in your eyes. Instead, you continued walking down the shoveled path and up the steps to your house, fishing the keys out from your keychain and unlocking the door, closing it behind you.

Kicking your shoes off and slipping some slippers onto your feet, you laid the bags over the kitchen counter letting whoever discovered them first deal with the contents inside as you made your way up the stairs to your room, plopping onto your bed face first.

You nearly teared up at your own naivety.

Holy shit. ‘I’m so stupid.’ Was all you could think of as the booty call Toji had received replayed in your mind. This wasn’t any new information on Toji that you hadn’t already known about yet it hurt so bad. 

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On the other hand, Toji couldn’t help but feel the same way. When he saw you safely get back into your home, he shifted gears to reverse, pulling out the driveway and driving back to his own place. 

Closing his eyes for a moment, he pulled out his phone from the cup holder it fell into amidst his struggle to end the call earlier and proceeded to call them back.

One ring was all it took for them to answer, and one second was all it took for Toji to cut them off before they could say anything more.

“Don’t fuckin’ call me again, understand? Good. Now, fuck off.” Hanging up before she could respond or attempt to call back like an idiot, he blocked her.

Letting out a rather loud groan of irritation, he gripped the steering wheel with both hands in indignation, letting his head fall as he could feel a headache coming on.

“Fuck.”

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Laying on your bed disappointed, you curled up thinking about the events that transpired earlier. The whole trip felt like an actual date—up until that call anyway. It was probably the worst way the day could have ended. Your bad luck was unimaginable.

“I need to find myself a four leaf clover or something at this point…”

Honestly, you didn't want to get out of bed. You wanted to lay down and wilt like a flower that never gets any sunlight. Stuffing your face into your arm, it occured to you that you were still wearing Toji’s jacket. 

“Maybe I should stop trying to go after someone who’ll never like me back…” You mumbled to yourself, sitting up and throwing the coat towards the nearest chair it could land on.

Were you really this delusional? You saw the way he was looking at you—you shook your head, trying not to overthink it. 

‘I guess I had the wrong idea.’

Feeling defeated, you knew if you wanted to continue moping about this, you’d have to do it after a shower; lest you end up skipping your skincare routine leaving you with another thing to sulk about.

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You couldn’t sleep.

Restless, you tossed and turned trying to find that sweet spot that would have you suddenly waking up to the birds singing. Come the fuck on..! I just want to sleep, dammit!

Grunting, it seemed no matter where you tried to place yourself within the comfort of your sheets and plethora of pillows engulfing you, you just couldn’t seem to knock yourself out.

Only one option left.

Slipping a hand underneath the blanket, you let your fingers wander across your skin. Giving each of your tits a soft squeeze under your shirt as you slowly began to relax, sighing in content at a teasing roll of your bud, slowly hardening at your touch. 

Growing tired of the teasing and beginning to feel heavy with need, you ran a finger down your panties, keeping it firmly pressed against your slit as you slowly raised your hips up and down in tandem with your middle finger, rubbing yourself over the cotton material. You could feel yourself getting hotter, wetter. A small, sticky patch of your own arousal seeping through the garment as you finally had enough, moving your panties to the side and making contact with your sickened clit. You wasted no time in parting your lips with your pinky and index, and letting both your middle and ring finger draw tight circles over your bundle of nerves. Immediately settling into a steady rhythm that was sure to have you quickly coming undone. 

As your breathing picked up, so did the small whimpers escaping through your lips. You tried your best to stay as quiet as possible, but fuck was it hard when all you wanted to do was mewl out a certain someones name, imagining it was him playing with your pussy like this. 

Toji. 

Even just sounding his name out in your head had you bucking your hips against the friction you were creating. His large, warm hand stuffed down your panties, and cupping your pussy from behind while rubbing at the entire expanse of your puffy cunt messily. Fast. Drenching his palm in your juices. Wondering what it'd feel like to have his long, fat fingers plunge into you as your own currently probes at your clenching hole, dipping in slightly only to take it back out. It didn't feel—wouldn't feel nearly as good unless it were his. 

You felt so close. Your fingers were starting to ache as you exerted them, moving it against your swollen clit quicker than before. It started to hurt, but the feeling of adrenaline rushing through you to finish made your brain block it out, replacing it with the endorphins of white hot pleasure that you anticipated to burst at any minute now. 

You clamped your legs around your hand, curling into your side like a ball. You wanted to stop, it was too much. But you were so fucking close. Your shaky whines were no longer being held back, eyes squeezed shut and the side of your face pressed against your pillow muffling it as best you could to prevent it from being heard outside. 

Just a little more…

Come on come on come on..! Your hand wouldn't stop unless your body reached its peak, only increasing in its pace. Holding your breath, the sound of your palpating heart was deafening as you continued letting out harsh pants.

You felt the familiar feeling of your lower abdomen tightening, coiling up and finally bursting like a dam. Your toes curled up as you threw your head back further into the pillow, unable to stop the sudden cry of Toji’s name that accidentally slipped out from your parched mouth at the pressure of your orgasm rushing over you like a tidal wave.

Before you could bask in your post orgasmic bliss, Toji bursts through your door. The fucking man himself. In the flesh..?

In a panic, you pull your stiff hand away from between your legs as if it were scalding hot oil, grasping the blanket up towards your chin to cover what you’d just been essentially caught doing.

“Heard you screamin’ my name out, sweetheart.” 

You’d think any normal reaction to being intruded on by the person you were just fantasizing about would be to first ask some questions—yet there you laid calm as a cucumber, watching as he inched closer to you.

Toji smirked. “Don’t start gettin’ all shy on me now. Let me hear you scream my name again for me.”  

You don’t know how he got to you so quickly but Toji was already slipping his hand under the covers towards your pussy, finding it slick and sticky from your high, smearing it all over as he ran his fingers up and down your sensitive slit. 

Retracting his hand back from underneath, he relished in the way your arousal stuck to his fingers like a spider's web as he spread them out, glistening against the soft lighting of your suddenly oddly hazy looking room.

Fueled with newfound urgency, Toji threw the covers off of you, yanking your body up to stand on the floor as you both made your way towards your vanity, back hitting the edge of it as you steadied yourself against Toji's chest. It was all moving too quickly. Too fast. Before you could stop to process your surroundings properly, Toji’s large hand hastily groped your tits as his other fingers that were touching on your pussy earlier prodded at your mouth to open. Without a word, you wrapped your lips around them like a good girl, sucking—tasting yourself before he removed them in order to turn you around. 

Just then, you realized you both were naked as Toji lifted one of your legs up onto the vanity, dragging his wet fingers over his cock as he moved to align it with your dripping hole. You couldn't form a thought. As if on autopilot. Only the unbridled, desperate need to have Toji in you remained.  

No. Scratch that. You felt your own thoughts before you could form them, as if it weren’t your own. It definitely was though. You don’t think anyone could too how fucking badly you wanted this man. Now he was finally about to fuck you? You may as well have been the luckiest woman on planet earth.

And as you begin to feel the sensation of Toji's cock about to enter you—confirming that notion, the door to your room bursts open again.

Wait.

“Wake up.”

What?  

“Wake up!”

Is that my fucking cat talking!?

“WAKE UP!”

Groggily opening your eyes, you're met with early winter sun seeping through your thin curtains, casting a hazy glow into your room. You hear birds singing.

“What the hell was that…” Stretching the sleep out of your limbs, you noticed your hand was still situated inside your panties. 

You closed your eyes, trying to recall your dream. “So half of that was real?” Well, up until Toji bursted into your room, you suppose. And when your cat spoke up telling you to wake the fuck up. 

Ugh.

Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes, leaning over the bedside to pull your diary sitting on your nightstand towards your lap. You had to write this shit down. 

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After jotting down as much as you could recall from the dream without mixing it up with what you were actually getting up to in real life, you left the diary on the same vanity dream version Toji almost dicked you down on. 

Throughout the day, you couldn’t stop thinking about Toji. Hell, your feelings for him increased tenfold just from that measly dream alone. You don't know if it's solely your dreams doing that made you feel like you suddenly had a genuine chance with him but fuck it. 

You thought about the events of yesterday and recalled when he grasped your thigh. That couldn’t have just been nothing right? The way he eyed your lips too as you licked icing off them. He didn't think you noticed, but you did. Of course you did. It was on purpose after all. 

And the icing on the cake? When you brought up his son, Megumi. You didn't want to assume anything but you could've sworn you sensed jealousy swimming in those green eyes of his. How ironic.

Shit, maybe you do have a chance with Toji after all. All he needs is a little push.

With all the evidence stacked up in your favor, you knew you had to devise a plan.

A plan on how to seduce your neighbor.

You giggled to yourself. 

“Mama chose a thought daughter.”

© SUGUCIDAL 2024 — All rights reserved. Do not copy, modify, or redistribute my work without permission.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

If you are up for it could write more Justice League x Assistant reader?

That scenario did things to me honestly, and I can't find anything similar 😭

Maybe reader calls in sick and the each JL member goes to check on them unanounced (reader never told them were they lived but of course they'd know *sideeyes batman*) which end up on all the members questioning and pointing at each other *cue spider man meme*, because why are you at my darling's- I mean our Assistant's house!

Reader kicks everyone out except the gourmet chef batman brought to cook reader some chicken soup.

A Day in Life: In Health and Sickness

Synopsis: A day in life were you, the Justice League's assistant, find out that sickness and a bunch of obsessed superheroes are just too much to bear all at once.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Platonic!Alfred Pennyworth

Tw: Nonconsensual (not sexual) touching; A single mention of obscene acts; Kinda breaking and entering; Reader gets physically restrained; Kinda forced infantilization? But not really, just humiliation; Some members of the League might be out of character bc I don't know them well enough; I was sleepy while revising and editing this so I might fix any mistakes I didn’t see later; English is not my 1st language.

Word count: 2,6k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: Thank you so much for your compliments and the request!! Your suggestion really gave me inspiration to write as soon as I saw it. It's not exactly what you asked for but I hope it's the same vibe and you like it!! Also I’ve seen all the requests for a part 2 of “He's My Collar”, but as stated here, I didn't answer bc I’m working on it! I just didn't have any ideas yet!

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Whatever hit you today, it sucks. Yesterday, in the afternoon, you had a mild throbbing in your head, but not exactly a headache, at night, fever hit you, alongside a cough. Medicine helped enough but today you still felt a little warm, your head hurt, your nose was somehow stuffed and leaking at the same time. You've been awake for an hour and still just couldn't get yourself to care for your basic needs like showering and eating, let alone go to work, so you called in sick. At least you would have some piece for a day.

Or that's what you thought, until you heard some tapping on your window, scaring the shit out of you, and saw Superman outside with a sympathetic smile and holding a pharmacy bag, a crate of water bottles and food.

Ugh, of course you couldn't actually have some peace.

You took a deep breath to prepare yourself and got up, walking towards you bedroom window, and tried sticking your head outside, hoping he wouldn't enter your home if you kicked him out before, but before you could do anything else, he supersped inside and suddenly was at your side, making you dizzier.

— Hey! I heard what happened. How’re you feeling? — The alien’s face showcased his concern on his furrowed brows and he took a step too close (any step in your direction taken by one of the heroes was already too close for you), extending his arm forward to place the back of his hand in your forehead. You took a step back but he didn't seem to mind.

— Uh, I'm fine. You didn't need to come here. — Superman shook his head.

— I wanted to help. Here, I brought som- — Doorbell. The hero looked in the direction the sound came from, most likely using his X-Ray vision to look through the walls and doors, and squinted his eyes. Oh boy. — You called someone? — His voice is weirdly calm, contrasting with the way he abruptly starts marching out of your room and to the door.

Earlier you thought the fast exertion of movements would be too great for you, but apparently adrenaline was on your side, enough to follow him around as if you were the visitor inside your own place.

— I didn't. — You respond flatly and holding back a groan from annoyance, since you also didn't invite him.

Superman immediately opens the door as soon as it's within his reach and what's on the other side surprises you more than when you got the job at the watchtower.

— Superman. — Batman didn't seem surprised, but he also never showed emotions other than anger. — (Y/N). This is Penny-One. — He is surely referencing the old man well dressed on his side. — He is here to take care of you. — You raise an eyebrow, almost speechless.

— T-Take care of me? — You helplessly watch them invading your residency, painfully aware there's nothing you can do. Superman crossed his arms.

— This is not necessary, I came here to do just that. — Superman’s protest unfortunately doesn't give you any hint of how this will all turn out, nor does it scare Batman and his friend away..

— You have your own responsibilities. — Batman simply states. — You should go.

Penny-One simply turns to you.

— It's a pleasure, Miss/Master/Mx (Y/N), even in your condition. Master Batman talks a lot about you. — You don't know what to stay and it probably shows, since no one waits much for your reaction before Penny-One is moving towards your kitchen and Batman and Superman continue with their argument.

You just go and sit down on your couch, questioning your life decisions and escape plans, which will have to wait until this damned curse leaves your body (and your home).

Your hands raise to rub your face and maybe give you some clearance, maybe wake you up from this nightmare, but keeping your eyes closed and sitting down only remind you of your condition. You feel worse or is it just your spirits? Either way, you let your body slide down until your side rests on the couch cushions, arms hugging your own body to try to have some warmth back. When did it become so cold?

At least their voices were low, as if trying not to bother you, it's a little soothing, especially with the promise of having food. Your eyes hurt just from staying open so you don't. At some point, some type of fabric is thrown over your body and a hand combs through your hair. You are too weak to do anything.

Next time you open your eyes, it's due to disturbing noises, your head is no longer on the arm of the couch and instead is laying on someone’s bare thighs. A pair of hands is running through your locks, and a really nice smell is in the air.

Did you fall asleep?

That would explain why your head is on fucking Wonder Woman's lap and she is looking at you lovingly. Also the fabric from before is Superman's cape.

You quickly shoot up, although just as fast, four or five pairs of hands, coming from seemingly out of nowhere — startling you even more — push you back down, you don't go without struggle, and soon, all hands disappear, green lights catch your attention and you can't move your body a single inch anymore. Somehow, you ended up restrained by a green and bright cocoon, as if you were soon to be a butterfly, only your face is free. Green Lantern’s construct.

— Hey, hey, calm down, hot stuff. I know she’s scary and you would never want to be close to anyone else but me, but you still need rest. — You're turned to the ceiling against your wishes. For some reason the fact that your whole body is covered doesn't give you the comfort nor the protection it should give you, instead, it reminds you of how vulnerable you are.

Your wide and paranoid eyes try to search for anything, since your head is being held in place. You can see Wonder Woman above you, glaring at something outside your line of vision, you are still in her lap. A bit of Aquaman’s blond hair on the bottom of your vision. And Batman, towering over you and the amazon, just observing as always.

— You can release them now, Green Lantern. — It's Superman's voice.

— He is not going to. — You see Batman saying at the same time another voice speaks the same sentence, making all of them turn in the direction of the sound, somewhere you can't see, but you recognize the voice. — He thinks they're weak and incapable of making decisions. — I'm sorry, who is weak and incapable of making decisions here? — He also wants to prove he is the only one capable of protecting and taking care of (Y/N), and impress them so they will fall right into his arms, call him a hero and give him a kiss… And other obscene things. — Batman smirks. Wonder Woman and another new and deep voice loudly laugh, the masculine voice being more obnoxious. Someone scoffs indignantly.

— Okay. Get out of my fucking head or I will make you. — The Lantern's voice sounds angry and you hear hurried footsteps. They wouldn't fight right here, right?! Right beside your sick body and in the middle of your crumpled apartament… It would make such a mess…

— I wasn't inside your head. Your thoughts were too loud, it's like you are screaming in my ear.

— I will make you scream! — You hear Superman superspeeding, probably getting in between the fighting duo.

— Ha- Green Lantern, calm down. No one will make anyone do anything here.

The agonizing feeling of restriction grows.

— WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE? — You scream in a husky voice, panting right after. Everyone is silent and the next second, the construct moves you around until you're sitting up, back to the back of the couch. You are still being held and manhandled, but at least you're not in someone's lap and you can see something other than your ceiling.

Martian Manhunter is standing a few meters away from you, Superman by his side. Wonder Woman was still sitting beside you and doesn't look like getting up any time soon, Green Lantern makes his way to sit down on your other side, placing his arm around you, gladly you can't even feel it. Batman is still standing on the side of the couch, his cape covering his body. Aquaman is sitting in your armchair, his face laid on his hand, watching amused, if not a bit annoyed.

It's so weird seeing all of them, suited up, in the middle of your living room, and in plain daylight.

— We came here to nurse you back to health. — Wonder Woman speaks.

— Uhh, don't you think this is a little too much? — The heroes look at each other as if looking for the issue.

— I mean, yeah. I could do it alone, but for some reason when I got here, these freaks had already broken into your house. — Freak Lantern says, pointing an accusing finger at the other freaks in question, the trinity, Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman. — Those two came in later. — He nodded at Martian Manhunter and Aquaman, not giving them a single look, his eyes solely on you. Like everytime he insists on overly making eye contact with you, it's a bit uncanny. — Worry not, beautiful. I will kick them out for you. — Superman and Wonder Woman snort at his arrogance.

— You could go with them. I'm fine, I don't need help. I’ve been taking care of myself for years and can still do it. — You've been nice long enough, they crossed the line, they invaded your apartment, which is so unprofessional, and you need to set limits. They just look at you with pity.

— I am are aware of my neglect. — Neglect? — But it's going to be different now that we are reunited… — Uh? What is Manhunter talking about?

— Exactly. History has proven how men are unreliable and indifferent to others. I'm the only one you need, darling. — Wonder Woman caresses your face. — I don't even know what they think they are doing here…

— What are you doing here, princess? Don't you have mommy issues to fix or a guy named Steve Trevor to talk to? — The amazon furrowed her eyebrows and glared at the one sitting on your other side.

— Don't listen to him, (Y/N). I left Steve a long time ago, when I met you. — Girl, why? Go back to your man! Leave me alone! — What about Aquaman? Doesn't he have a kingdom to rule? — The man in question dismissed her answer with a hand movement.

— I’m protecting Atlantis’s future by making sure none of you get any ideas and (Y/N) survives their illness. — Batman shook his head.

— I’ve already made sure they're taken care of. You shouldn't be here. There's more important matters for us out there.

— Then why aren't you there?

Their battle of egos is just too fast for your slowed down brain to process and try to formulate any form of strategy. Before their banter gets worse, the older man from before reappears.

— Your soup is ready, Miss/Master/Mx (Y/N). — Penny-One seems unbothered by the commotion around you, walking in with the source of the heavenly smell. Your mouth waters.

— Let me do it, Penny-One. — Wonder Woman gently offers and takes the bowl from him, along with the spoon. The Justice League makes sounds of disgust when they start watching her spoon feeding you (they wanted to be in her place).

You groan, complain, try to wiggle out of the construct but nothing works, especially with your fatigued and sick state. If you weren't claustrophobic before you might be from now on. You are clearly uncomfortable and practically begging to get out but for some reason they just won't listen. It gets to the point where as soon as you finish your soup — after realizing, again, that with those people it's just easier to surrender —, and take your medicine, Green Lantern’s temper apparently gets done with your whining and resistance, and he simply makes another construct. Now you have a pacifier in your mouth. It's your limit.

They start fighting again because some of them find it degrading, some like to hear your voice even if they know how close to cussing them out you are, and some think it's cute and prefer your quietness over your cries.

You can't move. You can't spit it out. You can't bite it off. You can't ask for help.

Green Lantern is rubbing your cheek while — slightly — mocking you. Wonder Woman is cooing at you, while trying to convince the Lantern to stop with his antics. Aquaman is clearly expressing he is on the Lantern’s side. Batman, Superman and Martian Manhunter are threatening him.

Frustration gets the better of you and the dam breaks loose. Now you are wrapped, with a pacifier and crying. Like a baby. In front of your bosses. In front of people who think you are vulnerable and need them. They're practically keeping you hostage. You didn't want them here. You told them no, countless times, and they just blatantly ignored your boundaries.

You have a pa-ci-fi-er. In. Your. Mouth.

And they are talking. They are ignoring you. They're been doing it for hours. No. Months. That's abuse.

This is the most emotion they ever got out of you and it immediately quiets everyone down. They're just staring at you, shocked. This whole thing is just a shitshow. A disaster. They're a curse. You are cursed.

It's so distracting that it makes Green Lantern lose his concentration, which is what fuels his ring’s power, and the constructs start dissipating.

You immediately get up and put as much distance between you and the team, who all have wide eyes and maybe had just now realized the gravity of the situation, while thinking about control damage.

You are searching desperately for how you could effectively kick them out, while also experiencing just the aftereffects of a new trauma, when it looks like it will get even worse. Flash zooms into the apartment.

— Hey, (Y/N)! Sorry I took so long! Busy Day. N-Not that I wouldn't quit anything and everything just to help you. I just now saw the notification that you took a day off today! W-What… W-What are you guys doing here…? — The speedster noticed after his rambles the he is not the only one in the middle of your living room, and points at the whole team, who is on the complete opposite side of you. They also point at him.

— You’re late. — Batman states.

— Slowest man alive. — Green Lantern calls out his friend.

Flash looks around as if gathering his thoughts and notices your distressed state. He turns completely to them, his back to you and him being between you and his team.

— What did you do to them? — At his demand, all of them start pointing at each other and giving some sort of explanation or their side of the story at the same time, turning it into unintelligible sounds, until your yell interrupts them.

— GET. OUT!

— But-

— OUT!

— But, (Y/N)-

— NOW! GET OUT NOW!

They grumble but comply. Penny-One, who was totally unfazed during the while ordeal, just sighs, and starts making his way with them. Until you take a timid step toward him and stop him.

— N-Not you… I-I mean the soup was really good and I don't think I will have the energy to cook later… I-If it's n-not bothering you… — The older man smiles placantinly at you.

— Of course, dear. I'm getting paid either way, might as well just finish my job here.

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@wandalfnation

[bbydoll18xx]

She’s Such a Good Girl (Part 2)

Paige continues her assault on your innocence, leading you to spiral.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Themes: angst in the beginning, Paige being hot and flirty the rest of it woohoo, mentions of being horny oops

Part 1 - You move in across the hall from Paige Bueckers. It doesn’t take long before she tries to shatter your innocent persona. And you just let her.

Masterlist

A/N: I’m so, so grateful for all the love on the first part of this little mini series. Let me know if you are up for a third part:)) I have soo many ideas it's ridiculous

~

You wake up feeling anything but well rested. Your sleep was muddled with dreams of Paige, her smile infiltrating your unconsciousness until you woke up with an uncomfortable stickiness in between your thighs. You groan into your pillow, the general overwhelmingness of last night draining you even more.

Grabbing your phone from your bedside table, you see a text from Paige, and the butterflies erupt inside of you once more. 

‘We’re all planning on going out tonight. You’re coming with us.’

Her bluntness momentarily stuns you, but you were grateful to be included. It seemed she was hell bent on getting you out of your shell, for whatever reason, and you were simply just going to concede. You needed this.

You respond, your heart beating out of your chest, and the anxiety begins to set in. 

It was getting harder and harder to deny the gay feelings you had. And although it had been years since your “oh shit, I’m gay,” moment had dawned on you, this was reaching new heights of awareness. But you had refused to truly accept it thus far.

You had a complicated relationship with your sexuality. Most of the time you had shied away from even acknowledging it; it was too painful. In high school, you were surrounded by other gay people, and it felt like you almost belonged, slowly coming to terms with your sapphism. But as you moved away to college, you were the only one in your friend group who was even a little remotely queer, and you felt isolated by your glaring differences. 

Your religious upbringing did not help the situation either. You quickly learned how to hide your emotions. Slurs were regularly thrown around the dinner table, the nasty words cutting into your being, and your fists would be tightening in your lap, fighting to keep a neutral expression on your face.

You could not give yourself away.

As soon as you could, you’d seek solace in your room, hot, shameful tears sliding down your cheeks, forcing yourself to quiet the sobs erupting through your chest. The words of contempt echoed through your mind, until eventually you had nearly come to believe them yourself. 

Each evening you clasped your hands together desperately in prayer, vehemently struggling with everything you had been raised to know and everything you wanted and needed to feel. It was an eternal battle that raged on inside, slowly withering you into a ghost, haunted by the darkness that had flourished in the absence of support and acceptance.

You wondered what the people who had claimed to love and know you the most, would do if they found out about your dirty, little secret. The anxieties about being outed manifested in cruel dreams, awakening you suddenly, a thin layer of sweat glistening on your body as your chest rose and fell in quick staccato breaths. 

That was something you still wondered today. And you would certainly wonder for the rest of your life. You had vowed that you would never come out to your family unless you truly fell in love with a girl. So you had kept everyone at arm's length to protect yourself. But Paige Bueckers was slowly breaking your walls down, brick by brick. 

A wave of nausea washes over you as you realize that getting closer to Paige meant toying the line of the false heteronormative persona you’ve been carefully crafting since you were a young teenager. The temptation of feeling normal in a group of girls quickly shuts down any immediate worries. That was a problem for another time. 

You hear your roommates in the living room, bustling around without having any idea of your internal battle. With a sigh, you drag yourself out of bed to go out to meet them, already preparing for the deafening noises that would inevitably come with telling them of last night's events. 

You open your door, nearly shuffling your feet against the carpet as you walk out to greet Taylor and Sarah. Their heads turn from the focus on the television, faces set in smiles as they see you emerge from your room.

“Guess what I did last night?” You prompt them, and their faces morph into ones of natural curiosity. 

“Did you read your class syllabuses to get a head start?” Sarah asks sarcastically, and you stick your tongue out at her in false derision. 

“No,” you scoff, although her guess was not completely off base. “I went over and hung out with Paige and the rest of the team.”

Taylor and Sarah were uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. They glanced at each other, momentarily stunned before erupting in hollers, jumping to their feet in excitement. 

“How the fuck did that happen?” Taylor all but yells, still jumping up and down. It was a good thing you did not have downstairs neighbors.

“Well they were being so loud, and I wanted to go to bed, so I knocked on the door to politely ask them to shut up,” you explain, trying to hide the giddiness you felt as you recalled the events of last night.

“And Paige answered and invited me in. And now I’m going out with her and the team tonight,” you finish, carefully watching the reactions of your two best friends. 

Their faces were morphed into ones of sheer delight and astonishment.

“My innocent, little angel is growing up,” Taylor exclaims, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye, and you swat at her, giggling at the sheer hilarity of the situation.

“What am I supposed to wear to a bar?” You ask, and the girls shriek in laughter, clapping their hands and promising to help you get dressed later.

You feel better about everything, the support from your roommates briefly quelling the fears and uncertainties that had plagued your mind for years. And your excitement was a testimony to the effect a certain blonde had on you.

~

“You’ve got great tits. Might as well show them off,” Sarah says exasperatedly, shoving one of her low cut tops at you.

Your face heats up, and you hold up the tiny tank top. “Don’t you think it’s a little, I don’t know, slutty?” Your voice trails to a whisper as you think about purposely showing off your body. 

“That’s the point, girl! It’s finally your time to show everyone what you’re fucking made of. Go be a sexy, bad bitch!” Taylor urges, slapping you on the butt as she does.

You take a deep breath, nodding in agreement, finally pushing yourself further away from the perfect, good girl act that had been placed upon you since you were a child. 

You don the skimpy black tank, admiring the way it shows off your slim waist, and you pair it with tight jeans that accentuate the curve of your ass perfectly. You fluff your hair and add a layer of lip gloss, before taking one last long glance in the mirror.

You could do this.

With a few encouraging words from your roommates and a few slaps to your ass, you nervously make your way across the hall to knock once more on Paige’s door. The door is thrown open, loud cheers erupting as you appear, and KK launches herself at you excitedly, throwing her arms around you and pulling you into her. 

Giggling, you hug her back, your nerves melting away at her friendly disposition. She pulls away, eyeing you up and down with an approving nod. “Someone cooked here,” she smirks, and your face blooms an embarrassing shade of deep red.

“My roommates kind of helped me get dressed,” you admit, hands tugging down your impossibly small shirt. 

“Girl, you look fineee,” she says, rubbing her hands together, causing several of the other girls to cackle at her not so subtle attempt to rizz you up.

“Who looks fine?” you hear a familiar voice, and your head whips in the direction of the question. You see Paige sauntering towards you, and your heart immediately begins to pound as your eyes rake over her tall figure. 

Her hair was down in blonde waves, making you want to reach out and run your hand through the soft-looking locks. Her toned stomach was exposed from her crop top, her abs flashing in a way that had your stomach rolling with an unfamiliar feeling. You couldn’t necessarily put your finger on it, but it shot down in an intense display of unbridled want. And she had the smuggest look on her face, accentuating the plumpness of her bottom lip. Your tongue subconsciously darts out to lick a slow line against your own lip as you watch her approach you.

KK points at you, waggling her eyebrows. “The pretty princess over here.” 

You blush again. Shit, you really had to get that under control. 

Paige hums, looking you up and down once more. “She’s not wrong,” she mutters huskily in your ear as she pulls you in for a hug. Your knees weaken at her touch, and you aren't sure if you’d be able to survive the night. It had just begun, and she had you completely and irrevocably fucked. 

30 minutes later, you, Paige, and the other members of UCONN’s women’s basketball team were shuffling into several ubers to head to a nearby bar. Unsure of which car to get into, you awkwardly stand off to the side, the anxiety pumping through your veins once more, but you soon feel a muscular arm wrap around your waist.

Looking up, you are met with Paige’s blue eyes and that smug smirk, and with a wink, she guides you to the nearest car, helping you into the backseat. As you sit, you adjust your top, overly aware of how much of your chest was actually out. Paige sits next to you, settling in with a low grunt, and she immediately places a hand on your thigh. Your eyes focus on the veins and the length of her fingers, and that feeling in your belly ignites again. 

As you arrive at the bar, Paige helps you out of the car with a chivalrous hand. And it does not leave yours as you enter the doors. She laces her fingers through yours, and you don’t miss the way it feels so damn right. She guides you through the crowds of people, and your breath hitches, feeling slightly overwhelmed from the volume and the hoards of drunk people pushing into your frame. 

Paige notices immediately, and she pulls you closer, tucking you into her side protectively. You preen at the attention, the feeling so foreign but addictive. You needed more, and the idea of it ripped away from you sent an unsettling spike of dread shooting through you maliciously. 

Subtly, you shake your head in a futile attempt to clear the thoughts out of your head. Overthinking was sure to be your downfall. Nothing a little alcohol couldn’t fix, though.

Aside from the occasional glass of wine, you had never really drank. And you certainly had never done shots. But when Nika and Aubrey had thrusted a tray of them towards where you and Paige were sitting, you were quick to grab one, eager to dull the bitter voices in your head. 

You bring it to your face, taking a hesitant sniff that causes your nose to wrinkle, eliciting a fond chuckle from the blonde. “Do I just sip it or…?” You trail off shyly, suddenly very aware of how ridiculous you sounded. What kind of college girl didn’t know how to take a shot?

Paige bites her lip. “Lemme help you, baby,” she mutters in your ear, and she takes the shot out of your hand. “Breathe all of the air out and then swallow it all at once before you take another breath, okay?” 

You nod, letting the air leave your mouth, lips pouting. Without her gaze leaving your mouth, Paige holds up the shot glass, pouring the liquid down your throat in a swift motion. 

You swallow quickly, feeling the burn slide down your throat and settle into a warm pool in your belly. You lick your lips, trying to catch a tiny drop that had slid past your mouth and trailed down your chin towards your neck. 

Before you can chase the trickle, Paige leans in, swiping it with her thumb, placing it into her mouth and sucking, her cheeks hollowing in the process. 

Your face morphs into a look of shock, and she gives you a shit-eating grin. The effect she had on you was something out of a book you spent many lonely nights immersing yourself in. And now that you were living in the crystal clear reality, you regretted not getting out of your shell a little sooner. 

“Can I do another?” You ask, already looking at the tray where a few shots still remained. 

Paige laughs. “Maybe wait a few, princess. The alcohol will kick in soon,” she promises. “You can share mine,” she gestures to her drink, and you don’t miss the way the pet name rolls off her tongue effortlessly. 

Paige was not lying when she had told you that the effects would soon hit you. Before you could even start to feel uncomfortable, a delicious easiness fell over you, loosening you up in a way you had never experienced before. You reach for Paige’s straw once more, pretending that her mouth was not just on it, and you relish in the sweet liquid adding to your tipsiness.

Paige had stayed close all night, similarly to the night before, and you were grateful for her constant presence anchoring you. The other girls took turns dancing with you, showering you with compliments and making future plans. Even through the haze of the alcohol, your heart felt as if it could burst; they were all so nice, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you actually belonged. 

The night flies by, and as it does, you and Paige get more and more touchy. Her hands took turns between trailing down your back and resting heavily on your hips. She played with a lock of your hair, twisting it in her fingers as you swayed to the music, and she was constantly gazing at you through heavy lids, pupils blown from the darkness of the bar and pure want.

Emboldened by the drinks that had graced your lips, you don’t shy away, and before you know it, you’re leaning in closer, intoxicated by more than just the liquor. The bustling crowds and excessive noise surrounding you melts away as Paige grips your waist, pulling you closer into her. 

Your heart pounds at her proximity. She reaches up, cradling your jaw and stroking the soft skin of your neck with her thumb. You wonder if she can feel the thumping of your carotid, but you’re too enthralled in her presence to even care. Her eyes flit between your own and your slightly parted lips. Everything felt so fucking delicate, as if one small move would break everything. 

“Been thinkin’ about doin’ this all night,” she whispers, and pulls you into a kiss.

All the air is sucked out of you as her lips touch yours. And while you are momentarily stunned, it does not take long before yours are moving against her in a delicious exchange of passion. All worries of not being a good kisser leave your mind as Paige moans against your mouth, the sound shooting straight down your belly and to your pussy. Her tongue moves against you, and the feel of it does not help the slick now accumulating in your panties. 

The kiss eventually ends, much to your displeasure, and as you pull away, a giggle erupts from your mouth at the insanity of it all.

You had just kissed Paige Bueckers.

“OOH, P is fucking whipped!” KK shouts over the music, enthusiastically high-fiving Ice and Nika. 

Fuck, you were caught. 

But little did KK know, is that you were pretty fucking whipped, too. With one smooth move, Paige had broken down all your walls, and you were surrounded by the bricks of your carefully crafted innocence shattered around you at your feet. And maybe you could blame it on the alcohol, but you were pretty sure that if Paige made you anything less of a good girl, you were certainly okay with that. 

~

Part 3 - You get drunk off Paige, and confessions come out.

Part 4 - Paige makes you feel so good.

Part 5 - Paige shows you her strap.

Part 6 - Your newfound fascination with Paige's abs leads to some fun.

The beginning hits a little too close to home I’m so sorry I blacked out while writing it. It’s been almost 9 years since I realized I had feelings for girls, and I still struggle every day with accepting myself. To all the readers who are going through the same thing, I love you, and here’s to hoping things get better. If you ever want to reach out, my inbox is always open.

xoxo katy

[keferon]

Part 2 of Drift/Deadlock and Hot Rod playing air hockey with their remaining brain cells!

Ratchet desperately plays referee.

———————————————————————

The morning Sun was poking Ratchet in the eyes. He scrubbed one hand over his face while the other groped down the side of his recliner for the lever to drop his feet.

There was one more blanket on him than what he’d gone to sleep with.

Daw.

Ratchet needed something bitter immediately to compensate.

Rolling out of his chair with a patented old man grunt, Ratchet was about to get coffee when he realized there was a distinct lack of nitwits harassing him.

Ratchet could hear Hot Rod and Deadlock outside and turned heel to enforce some basic self preservation. He paused, and grabbed a broom for good measure.

Sitting crisscross on the pavement, Deadlock was rolling Hot Rod from one hand to the other and back again. The pilot alternated between somersaulting, sliding and swinging back and forth all while not breaking conversation.

“So you caught on fire and just kept fighting anyways?”

“Yup! Turned out to be an awesome way to get out of any grapple instant-“ Hot Rod huffed, tucking into another roll, “-taneoulsy!”

Ratchet cleared his throat and Deadlock instantly closed his hands around Hot Rod like a kid caught playing with something he shouldn’t have.

“Watcha got there?”

“Nuthin.” Said Deadlock.

“Nuthin.” Said Hot Rod, muffled.

Deadlocks face was twitching more and more the longer he tried to keep an innocent expression. He didn’t even bother trying to suppress the way his finales wriggled in clear amusement.

Hot Rods red mop of a head popped up between Deadlocks thumbs.

“Mornin Ratch! How’d ya sleep?”

Ratchet put the broom down, for now.

“I slept surprisingly well. And don’t call me Ratch.”

“Deadlock gets to call you Ratch! He also calls you HRUMF-“ Hot Rod was unceremoniously cut off. Deadlock frowning down at his re-clasped fists.

Ratchet couldn’t quite make out what his mech was muttering but it sounded suspiciously like “Little snitch.”

Before Ratchet could tell him to let Hot Rod go, both of Deadlocks finales snapped back with a twinned sharp CLACK.

“EUAGH.”

Deadlock whipped one hand away, shaking it vigorously while the other held Hot Rod upside down.

“He licked me!”

“And I’ll do it again!” Hot Rod yelled, tiny fists raised in victory.

Ratchet got the broom back out, “Kid, put him down. Gently. And Hot Rod, stop fucking licking people.”

Adequately humbled by threat of bristly doom, both dipshits complied.

Hrmph.

“Okay, Roddy, you know the drill before I’ll let you you head back to base.”

Hot Rod sighed in overdramatic resignation before plopping his butt on an often forgotten picnic table that got more use from spiders than humans. Deadlock rested his chin on his un-licked hand and watched curiously.

Ratchet appreciated that, though he wouldn’t admit it. Deadlock was always quiet and thoughtful while Ratchet worked. Kid had an uncanny talent for anticipating what Ratchet needed and picked up on when the bioengineer worked beyond his limits. Well, tried to work beyond his limits.

Since Deadlock started living with him, Ratchet never got away with overworking anymore. He was a big fella with a fearsome temper that dissuaded most folks from pushing him. Previous challengers that tried to force Ratchet to maintain a work-life balance usually gave up on him around the same time the first throwable object goes sailing towards their face.

Deadlock just snorted and put his foot down.

Literally.

He put his foot on top of a piece of particularly contentious machinery that had been driving Ratchet up the wall, refusing to move until he agreed to a “Power Nap” that ended up lasting 6 hours.

Ratchet snorted at the memory and pulled out a pen light as he started Hot Rods physical.

“Hey how far do you think you could throw me?”

Ratchet felt his soul sigh.

“Dunno, couple hundred feet? You’re pretty light.”

“Do not encourage him.” If Ratchet got any satisfaction from Hot Rod wincing as he checked his pupil dilation, then that was his business.

“Okay, but what if I was in a roll cage? It’d be heftier to throw AND safer. Ratchet! You could even design one so it’s definitely up to spec!”

Ratchet was going to get an ulcer from second hand stupid.

He pinched the bridge of his nose very hard before speaking, “You want me to make you a human sized hamster ball so Deadlock can bat you around like a spoiled house cat?”

“Yeah!”

“No!”

Hot Rod mumbled dejectedly to himself while Ratchet tested his range of motion. Once satisfied, Ratchet moved onto the question’s section.

“Alright Roddy, any headaches?”

“No.”

“Nausea?”

“No.”

“Balance issues?”

“You saw me do a whole gymnastics routine on a giant vampire-space-robot.”

“Hrmph. Light headedness?”

“No.”

“Lapses in consciousness?”

“Sleeping count?”

“Hot Rod.”

“Joking! And no.”

“Blurry vision, ringing in the ears or sensitivity to light or noise?”

“Nope, nope, and nope! I’m fine Ratchet!”

“I’m fine Ratchet? You know how many currently dead pilots have said that to me?”

“Well, Pharma signed off on-“

Ratchet slammed the penlight down on the cracked wood table with more force than necessary, making both the pilot and the mech jump.

“Pharma is a conceited piece of SHIT and the only thing his ‘Sign Off sheets’ are good for is WIPING. MY. ASS.”

Ratchet forced air through his nose. Both Deadlock and Hot Rod frozen in place, wide eyed and tense.

Shit.

Ratchet broke the unintended stare down by scrubbing a hand over his face. He should really shave.

“Sorry. You’re not in trouble. It’s just-“

“Pharma.” Hot Rod finished. “It’s okay doc, I get it. You got waaaay higher standards than him. S’why I keep coming back. I trust you. And I know no matter how bad things get you’ll always have our backs, and we’ll have yours.”

It was moments like these that reminded Ratchet of why he wanted to fight for people like Hot Rod.

“Plus,” Hot Rod leaned towards Deadlock and yell-whispered dramatically. “He’s been a huge asshole ever since Ratchet dumped him.”

It was moments like these that reminded Ratchet of why he wanted to strangle people like Hot Rod.

“Stop phrasing how I left the mecha program like that. It wasn’t just Pharma I had issues with.”

Ratchet tucked his penlight away and ignored the murderous plotting he could feel wafting off of Deadlock. Don’t kill my “ex” coworker was still a rule in effect until further development.

“Last question. Any weird pressures?” Ratchet did finger quotes around the last two words and waited.

Hot Rod was about to automatically say No again but stopped short, and visibly did a mental check of himself.

“Uh, kind of around my stomach and the top of my thighs?”

Ratchet hummed, “Alright, pull up your shirt a little.”

Hot Rod did as he was told, just above the waistband, Ratchet could see some mild day old bruising.

“Yep, that’s what you get for flinging yourself through a car window instead of using the door ya dingbat.”

Ratchet straightened up and appraised the pilot one more time.

“Alright, make sure you put some ice on that when you get back. Otherwise you’re good to go.”

Hot Rod pulled his shirt back down and broke into a grin.

“Thanks Ratchet! See you guys again soon! Don’t do anything awesome without me until then okay?” Hot Rod pointed back to Deadlock for that last bit and waited until he said “On my life!” before finally driving off with a wave goodbye.

—————————

They had each finished their breakfasts, oatmeal and horrible alien blood respectively, when Ratchet said “I need to talk to you about something.”

Deadlock tensed, plating pulling in close before loosening again. Kid probably thought he was in trouble but could tell immediately that Ratchet wasn’t upset with him. He wasn’t sure how the mech did it, but damn if it didn’t make talking to him easier.

“What’s up?” He wiped quintesson gunk from his mouth.

“You gotta be careful with Hot Rod. You really cannot feed into any crazy ideas he has because he will get hurt and it will be by accident.”

Deadlock pinned his finales back and crinkled his nose. “I was careful Ratch. I did everything the way you taught me. I didn’t pick him up by the head, didn’t squeeze him too hard or nothin. And I was ready to stop at any second the moment he said anything hurt!”

“Kid.” Ratchet rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the thing. He can’t.”

Deadlock tilted his head, “What do you mean?”

———————————————————————

It’s getting real late again and I’ve already resigned myself to making this a three parter.

This time on the Trio of Friendship and Bad Ideas: Deadlock gets to play with a human slinky, Ratchets looses his sanity and something is up with Hot Rod.

Secrets of the mecha programs side effects will be revealed! Next time.

- SSTP

The way I legitimately can't stop smiling while reading this.....

The way your writing feels like a beam of pure joy flashbanging me through the screen. I can't evenKTYLGMNFHD I DONT FUCKING KNOW WHAT ARE YOU ADDIND IN YOUR WRITING BUT THIS STUFF IS ADDICTING PLEASE KEEP IT UP 👁

Also the mental image of Roddy being a human equivalent of a fidget toy for Deadlock is so entertaining I couldn't resist drawing it jfyjncfh

Roddy still doesn't have a design...oh well........

[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime (pt. 2)

summary: you and logan try to steer clear of each other, the scars running so deep that certain memories of the past occur. pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader word count: 3.5k tags / warnings: angst - post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), flashbacks from both reader's world and worst!logan's universe (in italics), no use of y/n. a/n: i'm so so surprised at how well the first part was received and i just want to thank everyone who's read it!!! i'm a sucker for angst and i'm so excited to make this into a longer series. in each part, there's gonna be a song that basically sums up the feels for the chapter. song: wherever you will go by the calling prev. part - next part.

“I’m not him.”

His words repeat in your mind like it’s some kind of mantra, trying to convince you that the Logan you saw a week ago wasn’t the same Logan you lost all those years ago. 

But he was right there, so close and yet so far. The subtle touches that night only reminded you of the man you lost. Even after all this time, he still had such a strong hold on your heart. 

But this Logan wasn’t yours and he made that very clear. It felt like the world was laughing in your face, taunting you by having the love of your life resurrected in a version that wanted nothing to do with you. You weren’t naive, you knew that this person wasn’t the same man you had fallen in love with, but your soul yearned for him and you knew he felt it too. 

You never truly recovered from losing your Logan. Instead, you had just forced yourself to get up day in and day out for Laura because you knew that’s what Logan would have wanted you to do. As the years passed, you became numb to the loss of him. You tried not to think about him, tried not to reminisce of the moments you shared with each other, but there had been times throughout the years where something reminded you of him. 

And every time, it crippled you. Took hold of every inch of your being until all you could think about was Logan and it broke your heart all over again. 

But seeing him caused your entire world to stop, serving as a reminder of the gaping hole that your Logan left in your heart. 

While you tried to forget your Logan, to just continue living your life until it was your turn to go, seeing a different version of him just brought back all of the memories you tried so hard to erase. You wanted to forget, wanted these memories of him gone from your mind because it just hurt too much. 

But here he was. A walking reminder of the man you loved. 

The man you lost. 

And the man you will never get back. 

–

“I’m not her.”

Logan couldn’t stop thinking about you since that night he saw you. He tried to tell himself that you weren’t her, to convince himself that you weren’t the same woman he lost.

But having you so close where he could have just reached out and touched you stirred a lot of unresolved emotions that he tried so hard to bury. He knew you weren’t the woman that he had fallen in with – you were just some version of her in this universe and he had to wonder if this was life’s way of punishing him for all of the things he had done in his. 

Logan wanted to push you away and he made it very clear that night that he wasn’t your Logan and that he never would be. He needed to keep you at a distance, but every fiber of his being yearned for you. Since that night, all Logan could hear was your laugh, your voice. All he could see was your smile, your eyes that gazed up at him. 

He tried so hard to snap out of it because you weren’t her.

And when he was alone, when the hope that things could be different finally vanished, all he could see now was the same woman who had died in his arms because of him. All he could hear was your voice, calling out to him to save you, and the last words you told him before you took your last breath. 

He barely slept and drinking only did so much. This universe was supposed to be his second chance at being a better version of himself, but he didn’t know how he could do that when he knew you existed in this world. 

Your mere existence haunted him, causing a lot of conflicting feelings. 

He wanted another chance with you, but how could he do that when he knew that you were better off without him? Safer without him? 

This Logan didn’t belong in this universe, he knew that much. 

But he couldn’t help the hope that he felt within himself (and from you) that maybe this wasn’t life’s way of taunting you both, but rather a second chance to make things right. 

To be happy. 

To have an ending that you both deserve. 

With each other. 

—

“You know, I’d do anything for you,” you tell Logan, who’s lying in bed next to you. What had started as a very casual situationship had turned into something much more serious. 

Logan started spending more and more nights at your place, finding comfort in your presence. You were the calm within the storm, the peace within the chaos. He didn’t know when things changed, when things shifted, but his soul yearned for you. 

“I know you would, bub,” he’d reply. Logan never made his feelings for you known, never made it obvious because if he did, it would make things more complicated than he already made it to be. He often wondered why he found you so late in his life, after everything he had been through, Logan finally had a chance of happiness but he didn’t know how long he had. 

He could feel that his body was much different than before. Could feel the pain of his wounds last longer before it healed itself. 

But you made him feel young again, made him feel like he finally deserved a life that he had seen others live. A chance to be happy. A chance to love. 

“I’m serious, Logan.”

“I know,” he repeats. 

“I think I love you.” you admit. 

Logan sits up in bed abruptly. He can feel his chest tightening with so many emotions: relief, joy, fear. He feels you reach out for him and he just stands up, gathering his clothes and beginning to put them back on without a word.

“Logan–”

“No,” he growls. “No.”

You scramble to your feet, grabbing the sheet from your bed to wrap around your naked frame. With one arm holding it up, you use your other hand to rest on his chest. “Stop running.”

“Ain’t running. We both know exactly what this was, bub,” Logan says, shrugging your hand off of him. “I ain’t good for you, and we both know that.” 

“Don’t you love me too?” you ask, voice quivering as you take a step away from him. “I know who you are, what you are, the things you’ve done and seen… but I love all of you. The good, the bad. All of it.”

Logan pulls on his black slacks and white tank top, glancing over at you. He feels tethered to you, feels like if he walks out of that door that he wouldn’t come back and he’d never fully recover. 

“Of course, I love you,” Logan admits. “But I can’t– We can’t–” he feels his breath hitch in his throat. “I mean it. I ain’t good for you, bub. You deserve someone better than me.”

“I deserve you,” you hesitantly reach out for him, afraid that he’s going to pull away from you again. “There is no one better than you, Logan.” 

“Things don’t ever work out for me,” he whispers, looking down at your hand that moves to take hold of his. “If I lose you, I won’t ever forgive myself.”

“You won’t lose me,” you promise. 

“You don’t know that.” 

“What happens if I lose you? What happens then?” 

Logan shrugs. “You’ll be fine.”

You shake your head in disagreement. “I have never loved anyone as much as I love you,” you tell him honestly. ��My heart will always belong to you. In every lifetime. In every universe, I’m yours.” 

Logan gazes at you and can see the tears in your eyes. Your free hand moves to rest gently on his chest, above his beating heart. You look at him in a way that no one ever has, that despite all of the things he has done, you still see the good in him. 

And it was in that moment that Logan promised himself that he would do everything in his power to keep you happy, to make sure you knew how much he loved you. 

“In every lifetime. In every universe,” he repeats, voice quiet as he leans into you…

Suddenly, you awake, gasping for air as you scramble to reach out to the empty space next to you. “Logan…” you call out for him, the sudden realization hitting you straight to your core. Tears begin to roll down your cheeks as you bring your legs up to your chest, beginning to cry into your knees. Your dreams – or rather memories – of Logan occur almost every night since meeting some version of him last week.  

This new Logan had the same exterior as your Logan, haunted by his own memories, by his regrets and failures. But you couldn’t help the fact that while you were yearning and missing your Logan, you also craved this new Logan. 

Was this life’s way of giving you another chance?, you had to wonder. And if it was, would you take it? 

—

It was another morning where Logan was sitting on the couch, a bottle of liquor on the coffee table as he tried so hard to forget you and erase the memories that tied you to him. But even when he closed his eyes, you were all he could see. 

“So, you do like me,” you grin up at him. 

“I tolerate ya,” Logan answers with a smirk. 

“Hm,” you gaze up at him. “I think you more than tolerate me. Just admit it, Logan. You like me.” 

“And so what if I do, bub?” he asks, taking a careful step into your personal space. Logan can hear your heart race begin to beat faster and he smiles to himself. There had always been an instant attraction that he felt towards you when he came to the mansion and found you teaching a literature class to mutants. You had locked eyes with him as he was passing your classroom and flashed him a smile. 

Logan never believed in love at first sight, but you had certainly made an impression on him from that brief glance alone. The more he got to know you and spend time with you, the stronger his feelings for you grew. 

“If you do – which I think you do,” you begin. “Then I’d tell you that I like you too. A lot, actually.” 

Now it was Logan’s turn to feel his heart racing at your admission. When he was around you, Logan felt calmer. And you always looked at him like he was someone worthy of your attention. Logan knew early on that there was a lingering longing for you, a craving that showed him he wanted more of you. 

“That so, sweetheart?” Logan grins, hand gently resting on your cheek. His touch was such a stark contrast from what he was capable of. The same hands that were now touching you had hurt so many other people and yet with you, he was gentle, careful. 

“Yeah, Logan,” you whisper, leaning into his touch. “And I’d very much like it if you could kiss me now.”

“I think you’re trouble,” he mumbles, running the pad of his thumb across your lower lip. “If I kiss you now, that makes you mine.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Logan,” you reply, gently grazing your teeth across the tip of his thumb. 

“I ain’t ever gonna let you go,” Logan admits. “There is no going back if we do this.”

“I know,” you whisper. “Whatever this is, I want it. I want you.”

Logan stares into your eyes, trying to gauge whether or not you were lying. But you never did lie to him. In fact, you were the most honest person he’s ever met. There’s a part of him that’s afraid to give into this because he knows that who he is and what he is is a danger to anyone that’s close to him. 

And yet, he can’t seem to stay away from you. 

“Are you sure?” Logan asks.

“I’ll always be yours, Logan,” you admit honestly. “In every lifetime and in every universe, I’m yours.” 

Logan hears the sound of Althea cursing aloud, which causes his eyes to open as he looks around. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s not in the same universe anymore and there’s a sudden realization when he remembers that you were gone. In his universe, you were dead. 

He pays no attention to Althea, grabbing his liquor bottle and grunting in her direction before he walks down the hallway and into his bedroom. Once the door shuts, Logan sits on the edge of his bed and lies back, staring up at the ceiling as he thinks of you. Thinks of the night he saw you last week. The sound of your voice, the sound of your laughter, the sight of your smile, the gaze in your eyes… 

“In every lifetime and in every universe,” he mumbles to himself. 

—

Later that night, Wade’s having his weekly family dinner again. Logan tries to make an excuse that he’s going to leave for the night, that he doesn’t want to participate or be around anyone, but Wade saw right through it.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Wade asks, setting up the table and making sure to gather chairs around it. “I don’t even know if she’s coming,” he lies.

“Laura will be here.”

“Doesn’t mean that she will be.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “I’d rather not be here if she is.”

“You know, you’d think that seeing the woman you love alive again would get you excited. Instead, you’re running away like you usually do,” Wade says seriously. “You know what happened in your universe wasn’t–”

“Enough,” Logan interrupts. “We don’t talk about my universe anymore, got it?” 

Wade raises his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine. All I’m saying… This is your second chance to be better, Peanut. Why not actually make a life for yourself here?”

“Because I don’t belong here,” Logan answers and then grabs a case of beer from the fridge along with another bottle of whiskey. “I’ll be in my room. I won’t bother you and you don’t bother me. Got it?”

“Sheesh,” Wade says. “Fine, Peanut.” 

Logan grumbles under his breath and then walks into his room, shutting the door behind him and quickly opening a bottle of beer that he downs with ease. 

As the hours pass, Logan tries to tune out the chatter coming from the living room. He doesn’t hear your voice amongst the amount of people in the apartment and while that should provide him some relief, it instead does the opposite. It disappoints him. He wants you nearby, wants to hear your voice, your laugh, smell your scent from miles away. 

Logan wants you here. 

And just as his mind drifts, he hears a knock on his door. 

“Don’t bother me,” he calls out. 

The knocking persists and he lets out a sigh of frustration. Logan stands from the bed and then swings the door open to see Laura standing on the other side of the door. 

“What do you want?”

“For you to talk to her,” she answers, completely unbothered by his attitude. “I think you both can help each other.”

“Yeah, well that ain’t happening, kid. Now, please–” Logan’s about to shut the door when the younger woman’s hand reaches out to stop it from closing. 

“I know she isn’t her and I know you aren’t him, but I also know that you both are thinking the same thing.” 

“Yeah? And what’s that, kid?”

“That this can be a second chance for the both of you.” 

“Ain’t no such thing as second chances,” Logan replies. 

“You saved our world, Logan,” Laura says softly. “You saved her.” 

Logan can feel his chest tightening. “I killed her,” he corrects. “In my universe, I–” he shakes his head, tears stinging his eyes. “Just leave me alone, kid.” 

This time, Laura allows him to close the door. 

—

You’re pacing in front of Wade’s front door, heart beating out of our chest in anticipation that you might see Logan again. This was the first time in the last week that you managed to get yourself out of bed, having called out from work for an entire week. You had thrown on a pair of leggings and ironically, Logan’s flannel. Your Logan’s. 

With a deep breath, you knock on the door and see it swing open. Wade’s on the other side with a large grin, welcoming you inside. 

“You made it,” he grins. 

“I’m only here to pick up Laura,” you correct him. 

“Well, you and the big guy are certainly avoiding each other,” Wade points out. “Why is that?” 

“Wade,” you sigh quietly. “I’m just here to pick up Laura,” you repeat. 

Wade sighs dramatically. “Fine, fine. But between you and me? This seems like a second chance that not a lot of people get.”

You don’t respond and see Laura round the corner. You smile in her direction and pull her into a hug. You can tell that her having another Logan in this universe is also taking a toll on her and you try to tell yourself, to convince yourself, that you need to be better for her. 

“Ready to go?” you ask. 

“Yeah, think so.” 

“Great, I’m just gonna use the bathroom and then we’ll head out.” 

You release her and walk down the hallway to the bathroom. You shut the door behind you and sigh, resting your hands on the edge of the sink as you feel tears threaten to spill over. You know he’s here, know that he’s somewhere close because you can feel his presence. 

Logan had been on high alert the moment you entered the apartment building. His heart rate picks up when he can smell your scent waft through his senses followed by your voice. It isn’t until he hears you enter the bathroom and begin crying that he feels a twist in the pit of his stomach. 

He probably shouldn’t be focusing his hearing on you, especially since it seems like just being here was causing you so much pain, but he couldn’t help himself. This was the closest he can get to you while keeping you at a distance. 

—

After a few minutes, you wipe your eyes and make yourself presentable. You know if Laura sees you crying, she’s going to want to do everything in her power to make you feel better and you don’t want to burden her with your feelings. 

With a deep breath, you step out of the bathroom with your eyes gazed downwards. Suddenly, you bump into someone’s hardened chest and your hands immediately reach out. There’s a sense of familiarity with your touch and when you slowly look up, you see Logan gazing down at you. 

“Logan, I–”

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to move away. He just keeps his eyes locked on yours. Logan keeps his hands at his sides, his fingertips itching to touch you, to feel you. 

You drop your hands back to your side and bite your lower lip in embarrassment. You’re both standing in the hallway, away from the sounds of chatter and laughter. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally say. “I should have watched where I was going.”

Logan just nods, but instead, he takes an inch step towards you. It causes you to take a step back until your back gently touches the wall. He’s crowding your space, gazing into your eyes. Logan knows that he should run, knows that he should keep himself far from you, but he can’t. 

Your souls are tied to each other, bonded in every lifetime. Even if he tried to forget about you, tried to keep himself at arm’s length, Logan knows that it would only hurt you (and him) more. 

Logan’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as he stares into your eyes and just like the version of you in his universe, you’re looking at him like he’s enough, like all you can see is the good in him. And it makes his heart swell, reminds him of the moment he locked eyes with you in his universe for the first time. 

And maybe Wade was right. Maybe this is his second chance at making things right. 

Slowly, his hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Logan feels an electric pull towards you at the soft touch and he knows you felt it too. 

Quietly, Logan whispers, “In every universe and in every lifetime, I’m yours.” 

You feel your breath catch in your throat, remembering the dream you had earlier this morning and those same words you told your Logan when you told him you loved him for the first time. 

Maybe Wade had a point. Maybe this is your second chance. 

[rafey-baby]

hidden 3

c/w: hostage/stockholm syndrome situation, outlaw!rafe being his usual self, mentions of murder, pogue!reader having some sexual awakenings & some backstory on rafe, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.3k

hope u enjoy xx

part 1 part 2 & part 4 part 5

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  

The following morning, her eyes groggily open in her own bed— covers tucked over her shoulders and head comfortably propped up by her pillow.

She finds herself perplexed, doesn’t know how she ended up here since her last coherent memory from last night is sitting on the passenger seat of Rafe’s truck and letting her heavy lids close for what was originally supposed to be a few minutes.   

Her sock-clad feet pad over to the living room where Rafe is rummaging through some of his papers and whatnot; appearing as busy as ever.   

“Why don’t I remember coming home last night?” she stops to stand next to him.  

“Cause you sleep like a fuckin’ rock. Had to carry you to your room,” he sounds disinterested, not even bothering to lift his head from the piece of paper he’s pinching between his fingers.

Upon closer inspection, it appears to be some sort of a contract—letters unfortunately too tiny for her to be able to read from where she’s standing.  

“Oh. Thanks?”  

Instead of leaving her passed out in his car like she would’ve assumed, he tucked her into bed? Maybe he owns a heart, after all.   

“It’s whatever,” he dismisses her while reading something over; seemingly deep in thought.   

“Do you— do you need help with that?”  

“Nah, I’m good,” his hand lifts up to scratch at the back of his head before scribbling something down. 

“Right…” she trails off, apparently rooted in her spot and unable to move.   

“Did you want something or what?” his tone is suddenly exasperated, eyes finally flickering up to peer into hers along with his brows raising expectantly.   

“No, I just…are we going somewhere today?” she can’t help but feel a little out of place in her own home with him there; almost as if she’s waiting for his next command to know what to do. It makes something peculiar swim in the pits of her stomach.   

“Nah, just have to go over these. Can you, I dunno, go to your room or something? You’re botherin’ me with your staring,” he grumbles and shifts into a more comfortable position on the couch; not sparing her another ounce of attention.   

“Sorry,” she mumbles, a frown taking over her visage.   

Honestly, she’s not entirely sure what she’s supposed to do now. Normally, she’d go to work at the surf shop near the beach but since Rafe so kindly took her phone and texted everyone in her contacts about a family emergency that would take some days to sort through, she can’t exactly do that.

And besides work…well, she doesn’t really have much else going on in her life. It’s sad, really, how a literal criminal forcing his way into her house is the most exciting thing to happen to her in the past few years.   

All things considered though, she doesn’t mind living a quiet life in the Cut, just sometimes wishes she didn’t feel so…lonely. And don’t get her wrong, she has friends, she just sometimes yearns for something deeper than fun boat adventures or getting high with her feet dangling over the dock while a tangerine-colored sunset paints over the horizon.   

She’s always had this dream of traveling around the world or simply just somewhere that wasn’t the Outer Banks but her parents never had the money for it. Therefore, she settled and learned to earn a living by herself in order to keep a roof over her head.   

And she’s been content with her simple life, even considers herself to be happy but then she sat on Rafe’s lap and at the realization of him getting hard from her unconscious rubbing against him felt butterflies in her belly, maybe for the first time in her life. It was something she thought only happened in movies yet there they were; their fluttering wings poking at her core like some vicious reminder that she hadn’t let someone make her feel good in ages.   

Truth be told, she grew tired of guys not being able to make her come because they didn’t understand her needs; didn’t even bother to find them out which is why she sort of lost hope for the whole thing altogether. But then Rafe steps inside her home uninvited and is nothing but mean to her and suddenly she... 

It's wrong.  

It doesn't make any sense yet she still can't help but feel a certain pull towards him whenever he's close. And she doesn't like it one bit; wants to forget about it as quickly as the thought breaches her mind.  

It's far too complex for her perplexed mind to grasp onto, which is why she confuses it for insanity; simply decides that she’s going crazy. And maybe she is, because why else would she suddenly care for Rafe? Why is a hidden part of her heart beginning to harbor gooey, fond feelings for a killer who’s technically holding her hostage?  

She’s sure her muddled brain is going to explode if she thinks about the matter any longer; instead opting to take a long, scalding shower due to the clothes she’s been wearing since yesterday starting to stick to her sweaty skin and making her feel even filthier than she already does.  

Unfortunately, the steaming water doesn't quite wash away the ache between her thighs.  

She’s in the middle of pulling a shirt over the damp strands of her hair when harsh knuckles rap against her bedroom door and Rafe enters a second later; not even bothering to wait for a response.   

“Change of plans—” his words die down on his tongue when he notices her current state.   

“Rafe, what the fuck?” she quickly adjusts the hem over her waist, painfully aware of the fact that she’s not wearing any pants and his eyes are now fixed on the lace of her panties practically on show for him.  

“Why are you just barging into my room like that? I could’ve been naked!” she complains before snatching a pair of shorts off her floor; tugging them over her hips.   

“Shit, wouldn’t have minded if you were. Got a nice ass for a Pogue,” he shrugs while sporting an irritating smirk that makes her glare at him.   

“And you’ve got no manners for a Kook. Except, I’m not surprised,” she rolls her eyes when he feigns shock; exaggeratedly dropping his jaw.  

“Puppy’s getting angry, huh? Where’s this attitude coming from? Thought you were still scared of me?” he belittles her with a condescending tinge in his laugh.  

And she’s about to respond when out of the blue the ring of her doorbell reverberates around the house.   

They both tense.   

“You’re expecting someone?” his tone turns bleak, frigid; inducing shivers to litter across her arms as her head turns towards the source of the sound.   

“N— no. I’m not,” she stutters because truthfully, she doesn’t have a clue as to who could be at her door in the middle of an ordinary Tuesday.   

“Did you fucking call someone?” he takes a threatening step towards her and she panics.    

“No! I promise, I didn’t. I don’t even— you literally have my phone, remember?” she tries to fruitlessly defend herself.   

“I swear, if you’re lying right now—”   

“I’m not, okay? I didn’t call anyone!” She reassures once more, although it seems like he’s not even listening anymore. Therefore, she tries to be logical. ”I should— I should go and see who it is, right?”  

The icebound water in his eyes bores into her as he weighs out his options.  

“Right, right. Yeah, you should do that," he finally settles on. "But if you even consider telling them anything, I swear I’m gonna fucking find you, you understand?” He grits out into her face and she flinches when she can feel his harsh breaths hit her mouth with each syllable.   

She quickly nods before teetering towards the entrance of her home and twisting the lock with precarious fingers.  

Soon, she’s standing in front of two men wearing police uniforms.  

“Oh, sorry for the wait. Was um…in the bathroom. How can I— uh, help you?” she tries to appear unfazed; inhaling slowly and doing everything she can in order to not look as guilty as she feels.  

“We apologize for the inconvenience but we’ve been assigned to ask around the island in order to locate a criminal who’s potentially a threat to our entire community,” one of them says and she thinks his jaded eyes are peering into her soul and seeing right through her rickety facade.  

“Have you seen this man recently?” the other guy dangles a picture of Rafe in the air. She takes a moment to properly look at the photo as to not answer too quickly.   

“N— no, sorry. Can’t say I have. Why? Who is that?” she bats her lashes in confusion as her poor heart thuds in her ribcage. She wonders if they can hear it.  

“This is Rafe Cameron. You might’ve heard about Cameron Development? He became the owner after his father’s death a few years back. And now we have reason to believe that he’s the main suspect for the murder of a fellow officer,” he states with a serious expression.  

“Oh, that’s…that’s terrible,” her eyes widen in shock because she had no idea Rafe was a Cameron. Of course, she’d heard everyone talking about what had happened with Ward Cameron and the rumors surrounding the gold but she’d never cared enough to dig through for more information about the rest of his family.   

“Seems like the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree considering what Ward did to Sheriff Peterkin,” the one with the piercing stare snickers and her brows furrow because she doesn’t think the topic is all that hilarious.   

“I remember watching that in the news when it was all happening. Didn’t you guys also arrest an innocent Pogue with no actual proof?” her question is sharp because the whole case still itches her in the wrong way.  

“That was— listen, I wasn’t even here back then, it was all very tragic. But the investigation on this case is still ongoing and we have a reliable witness claiming they saw Rafe dragging something heavy near the ocean the night before we found the body washed up on the shore. And according to multiple sources Rafe was the last person seen with our coworker at the island club a few hours prior to his death,” the guy explains and she momentarily wonders if they’re even allowed to share this much classified information with her.   

“Right. Well, I really wish I could help you but I unfortunately haven’t seen him,” her teeth sink into the inside of her cheek and she wonders if they can tell that she’s lying.  

“At this point, it seems like no one has. We’re suspecting that he might’ve fled the country. Anyway, we’ve got orders to search every house but honestly, we don’t think he’d be on this side of the island. So, we’re not gonna waste our time on that. Call this number if you notice anything out of the ordinary, though?”   

“Yes, of course. I really wish there was more I could do to help. Hope you guys find him soon,” she offers them a tight smile.   

“We’ll do our best,” they assure her before the door finally closes.   

Her back slides down against the wood as her labored breathing begins to slow down. She closes her eyes in a moment of relief until she feels Rafe’s presence interfering with her peace.   

“Who knew you were such a good liar? Shouldn’t believe everything you say too easily then, should I?” his gaze travels down her form and he genuinely seems impressed.   

“You killed a cop?” she decides to ignore his teasing.  

“Relax. He was a sleazy bastard who was helping me with some side business and became too greedy. What can I say? Don’t like being used. But believe me, he was not a good person,” he answers her question, maybe for the first time ever.  

“Right, right,” she tries her very best to understand where he’s coming from but she doesn’t think she’s ever going to be able to justify ending someone’s life with such indifference. In her opinion, he doesn’t have the right to decide whether someone gets to live or not; no matter how good or bad of a person they are.  

“Listen, I didn’t mean to do it, it just…happened, okay?” he tries to explain himself and he almost sounds vulnerable. She nearly feels bad for him.   

“You know, I could go to jail for helping you!” she snaps when frustration bubbles to the surface instead.   

“Calm down, Pup. You’re not going to jail, alright? And watch that fucking tone, yeah?” his hands rest on his head as he begins to pace around the hallway.   

“I just— cops don’t care about Pogues. If they find out I lied to them they’re gonna put me behind bars cause unlike you, I don’t have the money to bail myself out,” she tries to pointlessly reason with him.   

“Already told you, nothing’s gonna happen to you, okay? Now can you shut the fuck up so I can think?” he demands, halting his movements.   

“Did they, uh, tell you anything?” he speaks up again and she tells him everything she remembers from the brief conversation while he mulls over his situation.  

“Right, right. So, they don’t actually have any real proof about me killing the guy? Just speculation,” he confirms.   

“I guess, yeah? But I don’t know if they even know all the details about the case,” she offers in response and can practically hear the wheels turning in his head.   

“They didn’t happen to mention who the witness was?”   

“N— no, why?” her voice wavers as she swallows around the question.  

He lifts his head to inspect her reaction when he seems to have finally conjured up some sort of a plan to clear his name.   

“Think I’m gonna have to pay him a little visit. And you’re gonna help, aren’t ya?” 

She would very much like to find out whatever sin she committed in a past life that weighed so heavily that it made her end up in a position as wretched as this one. 

[stylesispunk]

"Our little mistletoe" day 2/3

no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

summary: You got sick during the week of Christmas. Unable to leave home, Joel brings Christmas to you, and some feelings are confessed.

wc: 6,3>

warnings: just fluff. (Yes, no angst.)

a/n: welcome to the second day of my joel's fic christmas version event. Perhaps, PERHAPS I will add one more day to this mini event. Thank you so much for the love on the day one of this mini event! So glad you lived that one. ♥️♥️ It's funny that at the same time, I'm writing this, I'm sick, but instead of cozy blankets and cold weather, here it's hot. I need Joel to come and save me. I don't know if you're gonna like this one as much as the fic one, i hope you like it though. Happy reading 💌

By this time of the day, you would have been already on Joel’s house, helping him to get everything ready for tonight’s dinner. Setting some last-minute decorations with Sarah that he always had forgot to put on display inside the house.

You weren’t the biggest fan of Christmas or travelling during these holidays, but you always had put a show for him, especially for Sarah since she was a little kid.

And he loved that. He loved it so much.

The way you belonged to his house, the way your skin seemed to glow under the twinkling lights, the smile you grace when he was opening the gift you had delicately chose for him.

Or the way you smelled like sweet pastries

You, just you.

You were his favorite part of the holidays and of life itself. You were woven into every tradition, every memory that mattered. From the moment you stepped into his life, you'd filled spaces he hadn't even known were empty.

Joel watched as you carefully adjusted a wreath over the fireplace, your fingers lingering to straighten the ribbon just so. Sarah had darted into the kitchen to check on the cookies, leaving the two of you in the soft glow of the Christmas tree.

“Think it looks alright?” you asked, turning to him with a smile that knocked the wind out of his chest.

“Looks perfect,” he murmured, but he wasn’t talking about the wreath.

You laughed, shaking your head as if you could brush off his intensity. “You always say that.”

“’Cause it’s always true,” he replied, voice low and warm.

You turned back to the decorations, but Joel kept his eyes on you, taking in the way you fit into this moment as though you were meant to be here all along.

It wasn’t just Christmas. It was you. It had always been you.

Joel’s thoughts came back to the present moment as worry nagged him. He checked on his phone, the last message he had sent you remained there, not even seen.

Joel’s thumb hovered over the screen, his brow furrowing as he stared at the text.

You on your way yet? Sarah's been asking for you.

The read receipt hadn’t popped up, and that alone was enough to set him on edge.

You were never late, especially not for Christmas dinner.

The sound of laughter floated from the kitchen as Sarah shouted something about burnt cookies, but Joel couldn’t focus. His gut twisted with a sense of unease he couldn’t shake. He stood, pacing toward the window, glancing out at the driveway that remained empty.

He checked the time. It wasn’t like you to keep him waiting.

Pulling his coat off the hook, Joel stepped out onto the porch. The cold air bit at his skin, but it didn’t matter. He needed to do something, anything. The world felt too still, too quiet without you in it.

He dialed your number, pacing back and forth as the phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Then it went to voicemail.

Joel ran a hand down his face, gripping the back of his neck as his heartbeat picked up.

“Where the hell are you?” he muttered under his breath, glancing at his phone again.

Just as he was about to call again, the door behind him creaked open, and Sarah peeked out, a worried look on her face.

“Dad? Everything okay?” she asked.

Joel forced a smile he didn’t feel. “Yeah, sweetheart. Just...waitin’ for her. You know how the roads can get this time of year.”

Joel barely had time to answer Sarah’s question when the sound of tires crunching against cobblestones pulled his attention. He turned toward the driveway to see Tommy’s truck rolling in, headlights cutting through the early winter dusk. Relief warred in his chest.

Tommy stepped out of the truck, shaking off the cold as he made his way to the porch. "Merry Christmas eve, big brother," he called, his usual smirk in place. But it faltered when he got a good look at Joel’s face. "What’s with the long face? Something happened?"

Joel didn’t waste time. “I need you to stay here with Sarah.”

Tommy blinked, confused. “What? Why? Ain’t this the time we’re all supposed to be gathering’ ‘round the tree, singing’ carols or whatever?”

“I think somethin’ might’ve happened,” Joel admitted referring to you, his tone heavy with worry. “She isn’t here yet. Ain’t answerin’ my messages or calls, and that just...ain’t her.”

Tommy’s playful demeanor vanished, replaced by quiet seriousness. “Alright. I’ll stay. Go find her.”

Joel gave him a firm nod, patting his shoulder in thanks before grabbing his keys and heading for his truck. He was halfway down the driveway, his mind already running through the possibilities, car trouble, icy roads, something worse, when his phone buzzed on the seat beside him.

He swerved to a stop, snatching the phone up. It was you.

“Hey,” he answered, his voice sharp with worry. “Where the hell are you? Are you alright?”

There was a long pause on the other end, and then your voice came through, soft and raspy. “I’m so sorry, Joel. I overslept. I think I’m coming down with something.”

Joel exhaled sharply, a mix of relief and concern flooding through him. “Jesus, you scared the hell outta me. You could’ve called sooner.”

“I know,” you murmured, guilt laced in your tone. “I didn’t want to ruin your Christmas eve or worry you. I just...I feel awful.”

Joel’s grip on the phone tightened as he pulled off the road, parking his truck. “Ruin my Christmas eve?” he echoed, his voice softening. “You’re the only part of it I care about.”

There was a pause on your end, and Joel could imagine the way you’d be biting your lip at his words. “I’m sorry, Joel. I really wanted to be there, but I barely can keep myself up.”

“You don’t gotta apologize. You just sit tight, alright?” Joel's voice was firm but gentle, there was a lace of disappointment hanging there, but because of the thought of you spending all this night alone. "I’ll figure it out. Just rest, okay? I’ll check on you later."

You let out a tired sigh, tinged with a hint of guilt. "Okay. Merry Christmas eve, Joel. Tell Sarah I’m sorry."

Joel’s chest tightened at how small your voice sounded, the strength you usually carried replaced by exhaustion. "Merry Christmas eve, darlin’. Just take care of yourself, alright?"

He ended the call, staring at his phone for a moment before slipping it into his pocket. The engine idled quietly as Joel sat there, the glow of his truck’s dashboard lights illuminating his face. You might have been stuck at home, but that didn’t mean you had to spend Christmas Eve alone.

A plan had come up to his mind.

He swung the truck around, heading back toward the house with a sense of purpose. When he pulled into the driveway, Tommy was waiting on the porch, bundled in his coat, a questioning look on his face.

"Everything alright?" Tommy asked as Joel climbed out.

“She’s sick,” Joel said, already heading toward the front door. "Ain’t coming over."

Tommy frowned. "Then why are you back? Givin’ up that easy?"

Joel shot him a pointed look as he stepped inside. "Hell no. We’re taking Christmas to her."

Sarah popped her head out from the kitchen, her face lighting up when she saw her dad. "She’s not coming?"

"Not feelin’ well," Joel explained as he grabbed a couple of boxes of decorations from the living room. "But that don’t mean she’s missin’ out."

Sarah grinned, catching on to his plan. "You mean we’re bringing all this to her place?"

"Damn right we are," Joel said, already sorting through the things he’d need. "Grab the cookies, the rest of the food and some of the lights."

Tommy let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "You’re really doin’ this, huh?"

Joel shot him a look that said everything. "All of us, Tommy. Come on”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, his smirk fading as realization dawned. “Wait, me too?

Joel didn’t even pause as he grabbed another box of lights. “You’re comin’. You’re part of this family, ain’t you?”

Tommy smiled, following Joel into the kitchen, where Sarah was already busy wrapping up the food with a determined look on her face. “Fine, but don’t blame me if I eat half those cookies on the way.”

“You do, and you’re walkin’,” Joel shot back, his voice teasing but his pace relentless.

Within minutes, the truck was packed to the brim. Lights, food, decorations, everything that screamed Christmas was crammed into the back. Joel stood by the truck, taking a deep breath, his hands on his hips as he looked over the load.

“Think she’ll like it?” Sarah asked, her smile lighting up her face.

Joel turned to her with a small smile, his tone soft. “She’ll love it, baby girl”

“Alright, let’s go before I change my mind about this,” Tommy muttered, climbing into the passenger seat.

As Tommy settled into the passenger seat, he rummaged through one of the bags he’d grabbed last minute from the house. A sly grin spread across his face as he pulled out a small sprig of mistletoe, holding it up between two fingers.

“Don’t forget about this, big brother,” he said, his tone dripping with mischief as he waved it in Joel’s direction.

Joel glanced over, narrowing his eyes. “What the hell are you doin’ with that?”

Tommy shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Figured you’d want it. Never know when it might come in handy. You will Kiss her tonight, brother”

Joel rolled his eyes, though the heat creeping up his neck betrayed him. “Tommy, don’t start.”

“I’m just sayin’.” Tommy leaned back, twirling the mistletoe like it was some kind of trophy. “You’re doin’ all this for her, haulin’ Christmas across town like some kinda lovesick Santa Claus. Might as well seal the deal.”

“Tommy,” Joel warned, his voice low and pointed. “This ain’t about that.”

“Oh, sure,” Tommy said, his grin widening. “Just about spreadin’ some holiday cheer, huh? Totally normal to pack up half your house for a ‘friend.’” He made air quotes with his fingers, earning a laugh from Sarah in the backseat.

“Uncle Tommy’s got a point, Dad,” Sarah chimed in, her voice light but playful. “I mean, you like her, right? Why not just go for it?”

Joel gripped the wheel a little tighter, his jaw working as he tried to come up with a response that wouldn’t give Tommy and Sarah even more ammunition. “Ain’t the time for that,” he muttered.

Tommy leaned forward, mistletoe still in hand. “Oh, come on, Joel. You’re already playin’ the hero tonight. Don’t tell me you’re gonna chicken out now.”

Joel shot him a glare, but Tommy just laughed. “You’re impossible,” Joel muttered, snatching the mistletoe from his brother’s hand and tossing it onto the dashboard.

“Just keep it handy,” Tommy said with a wink. “You’ll thank me later.”

Joel shook his head, but the teasing didn’t stop the thought from creeping in. The mistletoe sat there, a quiet challenge he wasn’t quite ready to face, as they drove toward your house.

You had just started to drift off, the ache in your head and the warmth of your blankets pulling you under, when a knock at the door jolted you awake. At first, you thought you’d imagined it, but there it was again, a firm, familiar rhythm that made your heart stutter.

Groaning softly, you pushed yourself up, wrapping the blanket tighter around your shoulders as you shuffled toward the door. The pounding in your head didn’t do much to help the confusion swirling in your mind. Who would be here at this hour?

You opened the door a crack, peeking out cautiously, only to have your breath catch in your throat.

Joel stood there, snow dusting his hair and jacket, his arms holding a box full of things that looked suspiciously festive. Behind him, Sarah and Tommy were standing by the truck, each holding their own share of decorations and food.

“Joel?” you croaked, your voice rough from the scratchiness in your throat.

“Hey,” he said softly, his eyes sweeping over you with concern. “You look like hell.”

“Wow, thanks,” you muttered, pulling the blanket closer around you. “What’re you doing here?”

“Bringin’ Christmas to you,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Joel took the opportunity to step inside, brushing past you gently as he carried a box of decorations toward your living room. Sarah and Tommy followed suit, grinning like conspirators as they set down their own loads of holiday cheer.

“Wait, wait,” you protested, your head spinning as you tried to keep up. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“No,” Joel said, turning to face you, his expression warm but resolute. “But I wanted to. You shouldn’t spend Christmas alone, sick or not.”

Sarah appeared at your side, holding a plate of cookies wrapped in foil. “We made these for you! Well, Dad baked them”

“Did you bake them?” You asked, recieiving the plate from Sarah.

“No, I bought them, really. I made Sarah believe I was baking” he replied, without giving himself credit.

“Such a fake” you said, but you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, though it quickly turned into a cough. Joel was at your side in an instant, his hand on your back, steadying you.

“C’mon,” he said, guiding you gently toward the couch. “Sit down. Let us take care of this.”

“Joel,” you began, your voice hoarse but filled with emotion, “you really didn’t have to—”

“I did,” he cut you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. His eyes softened as he looked at you, and for a moment, the chaos of the room faded into the background. “You’re part of this, part of us. Always have been. So, yeah, I did.”

You blinked at him, your chest tightening with something that wasn’t just the cold. Before you could respond, Tommy called out from the kitchen.

Before you could say anything, Tommy’s voice broke through the moment, his tone dripping with playful mischief.

“Well, look at this,” he drawled, stepping closer with the infamous sprig of mistletoe in his hand. “Y’know, I’ve been thinkin’. She looks at you like you’re her Christmas miracle, Joel. Might as well give her a reason to keep starin’.”

Joel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tommy, don’t—”

But Tommy was already moving. With the precision of a man who lived to be a menace, he slipped the mistletoe into the back pocket of Joel’s jeans, patting it smugly as if he’d completed a masterpiece.

“There,” Tommy declared, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “Now you’re carryin’ it everywhere, just in case the moment strikes. Plus,” he added with a wink in your direction, “I think someone else here might be on board with this idea.”

Your face burned as the attention shifted to you, and you quickly glanced away, pretending to be fascinated by the pattern on the blanket you’d pulled over your lap.

“Tommy,” Joel growled, his voice a low warning.

“What?” Tommy said, holding his hands up in mock innocence. “I’m just tryin’ to help. I mean, come on, big brother. Don’t act like she ain’t got that same look you’ve been sportin’ for years now.”

“Tommy,” Joel repeated, but there was a faint flush creeping up his neck now.

You managed to peek up at Joel, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. Tommy’s teasing words might’ve been delivered with a smirk, but there was truth buried in them.

Joel caught your gaze, and for a split second, everything else seemed to fade.

“Alright, enough,” Joel said finally, dragging a hand down his face as he shot Tommy a glare. “Don’t you have somethin’ better to do?”

“Not really,” Tommy quipped, sauntering off toward the pile of lights he’d been working on.

As the room filled with Sarah’s chatter and the sound of Christmas music Tommy had turned on, Joel lingered by your side, looking equal parts exasperated and amused.

“Don’t pay him any mind,” he murmured, his voice soft enough that only you could hear. “He’s just talkin’ nonsense.”

But when you glanced down at the faint hint of green peeking from his back pocket, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Tommy wasn’t entirely wrong.

As the evening wore on, the laughter and warmth filling your small home was everything you hadn’t realized you needed. The twinkling lights Joel and Sarah had strung up bathed the room in a soft glow, and the scent of cookies and food mingled with the piney aroma of the small tree Tommy had managed to haul inside.

But as much as you loved the idea of them bringing Christmas to you, the pounding in your head refused to let up. You tried to hide it, smiling and laughing as Sarah excitedly talked about different things, but she was too perceptive for her own good.

“Are you okay?” Sarah asked gently, her brows furrowing as she leaned closer to you on the couch.

You waved her off with a weak smile. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

Sarah wasn’t convinced. She glanced over at Joel, who was mid-conversation with Tommy about fixing the uneven lights on the tree. “Maybe we should let her rest,” Sarah said softly, her concern evident. “We can go back home. It’s been such a nice night already.”

“No,” you said quickly, sitting up straighter despite the dull ache in your head. “I don’t want you to leave. You’ve already done so much, and I couldn’t bear the thought of you packing everything up after all this effort.”

Joel turned his head at the sound of your voice, his eyes narrowing as he took in your pale complexion. “You sure, darlin’? You look like you could use some quiet.”

“I’m sure,” you insisted, though the words came out weaker than you intended. “You’ve made this place feel like Christmas. Stay. Please.”

Tommy smirked from where he was fiddling with the ornaments. “Guess that settles it. Looks like we’re havin’ a sleepover.”

Sarah’s face lit up. “Really? We can stay?”

You nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “Of course. There’s plenty of room.”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze flicking between you and Sarah. “Alright, but only if you promise to tell me if you’re feelin’ worse. I mean it.”

You nodded, touched by the concern in his voice.

“Well,” Joel said, clapping his hands together. “If we’re stayin’, how ‘bout a movie? Somethin’ Christmas-y.”

Sarah practically bounced in her seat. “Home Alone!” she suggested immediately.

Tommy groaned. “Haven’t we seen that one a hundred times?”

“Exactly,” Sarah retorted, grinning.

Joel chuckled and looked at you. “What d’you think?”

You leaned back into the couch, grateful for the blanket Sarah had draped over you earlier. “Home Alone sounds perfect.”

Sarah bounced up from the couch, eager to grab snacks and drinks for everyone. As she passed Joel, she flashed him a mischievous smile. "You can sit by her now, dad," she said, her voice teasing. "She's gonna need someone to keep her warm."

Joel gave her a mock glare, but there was a warmth in his eyes as he stood up and made his way toward the couch. He carefully settled beside you, just close enough that you could feel his presence, but not so close that it felt intrusive. He was getting really nervous about your company tonight in a way his heart seemed to explode at the thought of touching you.

“Comfy?” he asked quietly, his eyes scanning your face for any signs that you were still struggling. His hand rested on the couch cushion next to yours, as if he was just waiting for the right moment to reach for you if you needed him.

You smiled faintly, grateful for his care. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice still a bit rough. “Thanks for staying. This... this means a lot.”

He glanced at you, his gaze softening. “You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily, darlin’.” There was a tenderness in his voice that made your heart flutter despite the headache.

You shifted slightly on the couch, the warmth of his presence comforting, and without thinking, you leaned in closer, resting your head gently on his shoulder. You could feel the muscles in his arm tense slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he shifted just enough to make sure you were comfortable, his warmth enveloping you like a protective blanket.

For a moment, you simply listened to the sounds of the movie and the gentle chatter of Sarah and Tommy, feeling the steady rise and fall of Joel’s breath beneath your ear. The headache was still there, pounding softly in the background, but having Joel so near helped ease the tension in your body, his steady presence grounding you.

Joel’s hand, which had been resting on the cushion beside you, slowly moved. At first, it just hovered near your shoulder, but then, as though asking permission, it settled softly on your arm. His touch was gentle, a silent reassurance that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

"Is this okay?" he asked quietly, his voice low, barely louder than the sound of the movie.

You nodded slightly, not trusting yourself to speak. His presence, his warmth, it was exactly what you needed, even if you hadn’t realized it before. You allowed yourself to sink further into him, feeling a small sense of peace settle over you.

Joel’s hand tightened just slightly, not enough to be uncomfortable, but enough to remind you that he was there.

I’m here, and I’m not leaving.

The steady rhythm of Joel’s breath, the warmth of his body next to yours, and the gentle hum of the movie in the background all worked together to lull you into a calm, peaceful state. Your eyelids grew heavier with each passing second, the exhaustion from the day and the pounding headache making it harder to stay awake.

As you settled deeper into the couch, Joel’s presence became the anchor that kept you grounded, and before you knew it, you drifted off, your breathing slowing into a relaxed, steady pattern. The last thing you were aware of was the comforting weight of his arm around you, pulling you just a little bit closer, as if he too was holding onto this moment, savoring the peace and quiet that you shared together.

Joel didn’t say anything as you fell asleep. He simply let you rest, his hand lightly stroking your arm as he made sure you were comfortable, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. His heart swelled with a tenderness that made him afraid of his feelings.

As you slept peacefully, nestled against Joel, the soft glow of the Christmas lights cast a warm hue across the room. The only sound was the low hum of the movie playing in the background and the occasional shift of movement from the others.

Tommy, who had been lounging on the armchair, glanced over at the two of you with a smirk. He was doing his best to stifle a laugh, but it was clear he couldn’t resist.

“Well, well,” Tommy teased quietly, “You look adorable together.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to Tommy, a mix of annoyance and something else flickering in his gaze. He could get used to spend every day with you like this.  “Shut up, Tommy,” he muttered under his breath, but his tone was far from harsh. He didn’t want to wake you, not when you were so peacefully resting.

Joel shot him a warning look, but the corners of his lips tugged into a smile despite himself. “You’ve got a hell of a way of making things awkward,” he grumbled, but it was clear he wasn’t bothered by the teasing.

Meanwhile, Sarah had curled up on the floor with a blanket, her eyes already fluttering closed. She was tired from the day’s events, her excitement finally catching up to her.

Joel looked down at you again, his hand still lightly resting on your shoulder as if unwilling to move. But then he noticed Sarah, fast asleep on the floor, and a new thought came to him.

“Tommy,” Joel called quietly, nudging his brother once more. “Can you help me get Sarah to the guest room? She’s out cold, and I don’t want her sleepin’ on the floor.”

Tommy, not missing a beat, grinned widely. “I can’t believe you’re getting rid of your daughter to get a girlfriend,” he teased, winking at Joel.

Joel didn’t even respond to that, his attention already on you. “Just help me, damn it,” he muttered, trying to keep the playful teasing to a minimum.

With a sigh, Tommy got up and walked over to Sarah, carefully lifting her and making sure she didn’t stir. Joel remained on the couch, his heart still racing from the tenderness of the moment, silently praying that you wouldn’t wake up just yet.

As Tommy returned to the living room, he gave Joel a quick nod, signaling that Sarah was settled comfortably in the guest room. Joel looked down at you, still asleep on his shoulder, and a deep tenderness washed over him. He wasn’t sure if he could carry you without waking you, but seeing you so peaceful in his arms made him want to do everything he could to keep you safe and comfortable.

He carefully lifted you, one arm gently supporting your back and the other under your knees. His movements were slow and deliberate, trying his best not to disturb you. Your soft, steady breathing was a comfort to him as he began walking toward your bedroom.

Tommy, noticing the situation, gave Joel a teasing grin. “You sure you don’t need help, Joel?”

Joel shot him a look, his usual gruffness softened by the moment. “Just keep it down, alright? Don’t wanna wake her.”

Tommy’s grin only widened, but he stayed quiet, giving Joel the space he needed.

As Joel made his way into your bedroom, he gently lowered you onto the bed, making sure your head was resting comfortably on the pillow. He tucked the blanket around you, his fingers brushing against your skin for a brief moment. It wasn’t much, but the way you looked so peaceful made something inside him stir, and for a second, he just stood there, watching you.

His gaze lingered on your face, tracing the soft curve of your features, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Get some rest, darlin'," he whispered, as if the words could protect you from whatever might come next. "I’m right here."

Joel returned to the living room, his footsteps quiet but deliberate. Tommy, who had been half-leaning on the couch with his feet up, looked up at him with a smirk. Joel wiped a hand across his face, trying to shake off the quiet weight of the night.

“I’ll take the sofa,” Joel said, his voice low. “You can take the other bed in the guest room. It’s all set up.”

Tommy gave him an exaggerated shrug, as if to say he didn’t care where he slept. “Alright, alright. Guess it’s good to be the one on the couch for once.” He stood up and stretched, heading toward the guest room Joel had pointed out. “Night, man.”

“Night, Tommy,” Joel muttered, already turning back toward the bedroom.

Once everything settled down, the house was quiet again, save for the soft sounds of the holiday decorations swaying and the occasional crackle from the fireplace. Joel moved softly, making his way back down the hall to your room, checking the time briefly as he walked. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt the need to be near you, even if you were sleeping.

When he pushed open the door to your room, expecting to see you still sleeping peacefully, his heart stuttered in his chest. There you were, awake, your eyes wide, watching him from the bed. The soft light of the bedside lamp illuminated your face, casting a warm glow over your features.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, just taking in the presence of the other.

"Hey," Joel said quietly, leaning against the doorframe, his voice hoarse, like he was still trying to process the night.

You offered him a tired smile, but there was something else there too, an understanding, something deeper that only the two of you seemed to share “How did I get here?” you asked.

Joel stepped closer, his eyes softening. “I carried you to bed.” he confessed, his voice gentle. His gaze dropped to the bed, the warmth of your presence drawing him in. “You feeling better?”

You nodded slightly, even though you knew you weren’t completely alright. But there was something about having Joel near you that made you feel just a little more at ease.

“I’m alright now," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "But you should get some rest too. You’ve done more than enough."

Joel stood there for a beat, as if considering what to say next. Then, he smiled softly, a trace of that quiet tenderness in his eyes. “I’ll rest when I know you’re okay.”

With that, he pulled up a chair near the bed, sitting down so that he could keep an eye on you. He wasn’t sure how long he’d stay there, but he didn’t mind. He just needed to know you were alright.

You shifted slightly in the bed, glancing over at Joel, who was still sitting in the chair, watching you with that soft, protective look in his eyes. A small, tired smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you studied him for a moment.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper, the weight of the night lingering in the air between you. "You don't have to sit there all night."

Joel chuckled quietly, though it held a hint of disbelief. "I'm just making sure you're okay," he said, his voice low but reassuring. He leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees, never taking his eyes off you. "I told you, I’ll rest when you’re alright."

You could see the exhaustion etched on his face, his shoulders slumped with the weight of the long night, but there was still that protective energy about him. You couldn’t help but feel grateful, though you also felt a small ache in your chest seeing him so worn out.

“You can sleep with me, Joel," you said, the words slipping out before you had a chance to stop them. You quickly added, "I mean, if you want to. You don’t have to keep sitting there."

Joel’s expression softened as he took in your offer. He hesitated for a moment, the vulnerability in the air palpable between you two. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he finally nodded.

"Yeah," he said quietly, his voice a little rough with emotion. "I think I’d like that."

He stood up slowly, as if testing the idea, then moved to your side. You shifted to make room for him, pulling the blanket back slightly. As he lay down beside you, his warmth seemed to fill the room, and you could feel the tension in your chest loosen just a little.

Joel settled in beside you, not too close but close enough that you could feel his presence. His hand brushed yours, and you both let out a quiet, simultaneous sigh of relief. He shifted onto his side, facing you, his eyes scanning your face as if to make sure you were still okay.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The room was still, only the quiet sound of your breathing filling the space. Finally, Joel’s voice broke the silence, low and soft.

"You sure you're alright?" he asked, his thumb gently brushing over the back of your hand.

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion as you glanced over at him. "I’m better now," you whispered. "With you here." You paused for a moment “What you did tonight…I can’t find the words to thank you.”

Joel smiled, a small but sincere curve of his lips, as he adjusted slightly, bringing you closer to him. “You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured softly, his voice warm and reassuring. “You’re important to me.”

His words, though comforting, didn’t stop the weight of your emotions from building up inside you. The closeness, the warmth of his presence, and everything that had happened tonight made your heart swell with something deeper than gratitude.

Taking a deep breath, you lifted your head slightly, your eyes meeting his with a vulnerability you hadn’t shown before. “I love you, Joel,” you said, the words coming out softly but with a sincerity that made your chest ache.

Joel’s expression softened even more, his thumb still brushing lightly over your hand. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice deep and full of emotion.

You frowned, a little pout forming on your lips as you shifted slightly. “No, you don’t understand,” you murmured, feeling the weight of the moment grow even more. “I love you. I’m in love with you.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, almost too heavy to breathe through. Joel’s gaze softened, searching your eyes as if trying to understand what you meant. And when he did, his expression shifted, becoming more tender, more real. Before you could pull away, you buried your face in the crook of his neck, hiding from the intensity of the confession, but also seeking the comfort of his warmth.

Joel’s hand gently cradled the back of your head, his thumb still brushing through your hair as he held you close. The room was filled with a silence that seemed to stretch on forever, and then, in the softest of tones, he spoke.

“Can you repeat it?” His voice was a little rough, full of longing, but there was a hint of vulnerability there too.

You shook your head, keeping your face hidden in the crook of his neck, trying to gather the courage to meet his gaze again. The weight of your own confession was still hanging in the air, making you feel exposed and raw. You mumbled against his skin, “I can’t. It’s too much.”

Joel chuckled softly, the sound warm and comforting. He shifted slightly, pulling you back just enough to tilt your chin gently upward, so you had no choice but to look into his eyes. The tenderness there was undeniable. “That’s bad,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “’cause I’m in love with you too.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you could only stare at him, eyes wide with surprise. The feeling of his words settled over you, warming you from the inside out, making your heart race.

“I—” You started, but the words stuck in your throat. The vulnerability between the two of you was overwhelming, and yet, it felt like everything had finally clicked into place. There were no more doubts. No more fear.

Joel smiled softly, the warmth of his eyes never leaving yours as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “We’re here now.”

The weight of his words hung in the air between you, a promise, a shared truth. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of his presence sink into your bones, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding you. It felt like everything you’d hoped for was finally coming into focus.

Joel gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing the softness of your skin as he looked at you, his eyes full of tenderness and something deeper. His gaze was steady, searching for any sign of doubt, but all he found was you—vulnerable, open, and more than ready for what was happening between you two.

“You’re not alone,” he murmured, his voice low but full of meaning. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here, with you.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, your heart swelling with emotions too big for words. “I know,” you whispered, a smile finally tugging at the corners of your lips. “I know now.”

Joel’s smile deepened, and in that moment, it was like the world outside of your little bubble didn’t matter. All that existed was the two of you, tangled up in something more real and beautiful than you could have imagined.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with the softest of touches, as if asking for permission. And when you responded, meeting him halfway, the kiss deepened, both of you tasting the sweet vulnerability of this new chapter.

You pulled away slowly, your forehead resting against his, your breaths mingling. “You’re gonna get sick now”

Joel chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take my chances,” he murmured, his hands finding their way back to your waist, pulling you closer. “I’m not letting go now.”

You laughed quietly, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. “You’re stubborn,” you said, but there was no annoyance in your voice—just affection.

“And you love me for it,” he replied with a playful grin, his thumb tracing small circles on your back.

You smirked, rolling your eyes slightly, though your heart was full. “I do,” you admitted, your voice soft, the words carrying more weight than you’d ever thought they would. “I really do.”

Joel smiled, his expression softening as he leaned in once more, brushing his lips against yours, but you placed your hand up to stop him for a moment, hanging the little mistletoe over your heads.

Joel raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a grin as you held the mistletoe above your heads. "Where do you get that from?" he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

You smirked, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and mischief. "I stole it from you," you replied, your voice teasing, yet sincere.

Joel chuckled, the sound warm and full of affection. "I should’ve known," he said, shaking his head with a playful sigh. "You’re sneaky."

You shrugged, the mistletoe still hovering between you. "I had to make sure it was the right moment."

He chuckled again, and this time, his hands found your waist once more, pulling you close as he leaned in, his eyes softening. "Well, since you put it like that..."

With a grin, he pressed his lips to yours, the kiss deepening as you both shared in the quiet joy of the moment.

Joel pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, his expression soft and full of warmth. "You know," he said, his voice low and sincere, "you’re the best gift I could ever ask for."

You felt your heart swell, and a soft smile tugged at your lips. His words, simple yet heartfelt, made everything feel right. Before you could respond, Joel’s grin returned, playful yet tender.

"And," he continued with a teasing glint in his eyes, "I hope you’ll take care of me when I inevitably get sick from all this kissing."

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile forming on your lips. "Oh, don’t worry," you replied, your tone light but affectionate, "I’m more than happy to take care of you."

Joel chuckled, pulling you closer again, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. "Good," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

The warmth between you both felt like the perfect ending to a night full of new beginnings, and as he kissed you again.

And again.

And he thought he would never get tired of it.

[morose-melodies]

your knight | princess reader x yandere! capitano

summary: you are forced to attend a banquet and your knight is accompanying you... if only you weren't forced to go.

content warning: none!

part 1, part 2, part 3

"your father requested that you go to this banquet. this is not negotiable."

you sat at the edge of the bed, glaring at capitano. you couldn't imagine going to a banquet in your condition - while your stomach ached so badly, and you felt faint. "go tell him I refuse to go. i don't feel well, i don't want to go."

"princess..."

"i said im not going-"

"this is not negotiable. this is the dress you will wear," your knight gestured to the dress hung near your vanity. your maid asked that capitano get you ready since you were 'being difficult' with her.

"I said-"

your knight had sworn to never harm you - it was his duty to protect you and yet, he stomped towards you, taking hold of your arm and forcing you to stand, "we are going, princess. that is final."

...

you hated your father and you hated your knight. this dress was too tight, too puffy, it made your stomach churn with each step that you took.

"keep my daughter safe, capitano."

"i swear to you, i will."

he valued your life above his own. of course he would protect you, even in death, he would.

"come now, princess," capitano took your hand into his, as gently as he humanly could while you tried to free your hand from his. he led you to the carriage and helped you into the carriage.

you swatted his hand off of your waist once you finally got into the carriage. you sat stiffly in the carriage, looking out the window as capitano got into the carriage beside you.

"we won't stay for long, if you truly don't feel well," you knight said, disrupting the comfortable silence you had gotten used to.

"id much rather we not go at all," you huffed, tugging at the gloves on your hand.

"you hardly make appearances at formal events. your father requested that you show up to the banquet, even if just for a few minutes. you are this nation's princess, after all."

you said nothing. if you only had to make an appearance for a few minutes, you could do this. you could do this.

when the carriage came to a stop, you sighed. your knight exited the carriage first, walked around the carriage, and opened the door for you, he held his hand out for you to take.

hesitantly, you placed your hand into his and stepped out of the carriage.

you and your knight entered the banquet hall and nearly immediately, you were swarmed by the people.

"princess, princess!"

"smile, princess!"

"we're glad to see you, princess!"

"will you make more public appearances, princess?"

your head ached at all the commotion.

"oh, I can't do this," you covered your face with one hand, while your knight held your other hand, pushing through the crowds to get you seated.

"sit here, princess," he chose a seat far off in the corner, your knight gestured for you to sit down and slowly you did. you lowered your head into the table, closing your eyes, "I can't do this - I can't."

capitano placed a hand on your back, leaning towards you, "what's the matter, princess?"

but you didn't reply - you didn't feel good. not at all. you knew you shouldn't have come here.

"we have a very special guest with us tonight," a voice came from the front stage, "please give a warm welcome to-"

"please no," you groaned, placing your hands over your ears, and in return, capitano placed his hands over your ears also.

"- to this nation's princess, (y/n)!"

everyone clapped and everyone cheered.

and everyone looked at you.

covering your ears did absolutely nothing. you heard it, you felt it and you hated it. you couldn't take it, it was too loud, it was too much.

"i need to leave-" you stood up, pushing away from your knight, and made a run for it. stumbling towards the exit, you raised your hands to your ears once more.

capitano stood also, following after you. he opened the door for you and let you step outside. he placed a hand on your shoulder and turned you to face him, "take a moment to breathe. i won't force you to stay, we'll leave."

"I can't stay. I feel faint..."

"we won't stay, we won't," your knight assured you, pulling you to his chest and you felt too unwell to pull away, "forgive me for forcing you to participate in this banquet. it was wrong of me."

"I should have known better," he placed his hand at the back of your head, holding you against him, "forgive me, princess."

and for once, you didn't have it in you to push away.

he would deal with any consequences once he got you home and in bed - beat him, shame him, whatever your father saw fit, he would take it and do wrong again if that meant you were comfortable.

[obsessedwrhys]

The Seven and The Boys with forced supe reader(like Billy’s little sister as revenge for billy and the boys constantly causing problems)

Rouge powers reader————powers turn on and off randomly

can absorb life forces and powers(which they can steal(albeit accidentally))

Very stubborn and sarcastic just like her brother

Home lander is probably extra yandere for tons of reasons and keeps the reader in a glass room(enclosure or whatever)(think a zoo exhibit or big aquarium tank without water—— that one room from You or the glass apartment In Supernova for the kid with the same sort of powers)so that he can see his pet/prize/whatever tf he plans to do with them

-🌑

I keep seeing this as a full blown fic in my mind but I don’t have the skills to pull it off so I’d like to see other people’s takes on the idea!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Rogue!Reader

ᯓ★ I read your req and I'm intrigued so this is my attempt on it, hope it meets your expectations. This is like a full on story lol (angst, gore, death, killing, looooots of cursing like I'm not even exaggerating, homelander being homelander, some fluff at the end?)

Parts: 2

With your brother's reputation, it's hard to ever live your whole life without the constant need to look over the shoulder. You always liked to tell yourself that after cutting ties with him, it will ensure you your safety, but those words were nothing more than just lies.

Losing Becca changed him completely. You could still recall the last time you spoke to him, the talk regarding your concern escalating into a heated argument.

"I'm telling you! You have no chance against a literal superpowered person! You'll get yourself killed!" You raised your voice, standing on the other side of the kitchen counter.

"Yeah, but this ain't a life worth livin' for anyways" He brushed your words off like he usually does. You watch in disbelief as he pours himself alcohol.

"Fuck you. You're such an asshole..." You said and he nods at you as he lifts his glass up.

"I'll drink to that" You scoff when he actually drank from his cup, the sound of him sipping ticking you off.

"Okay, fine, get yourself killed! But I won't stand to be here when it happens. I want you out of my life. I never wanna see you. I never even want to hear from you again! You're... you're..." You gasp as you start to sob. He turns to you, nothing but a blank expression on his face.

"Hey... take it easy—"

"No! Don't you fucking tell me to take this shit easy when you just admit to me that you're willing to throw away your life for some blonde american supe! You are a shitty brother! You're just like dad!"

"Don't you fuckin' compare me to that cunt!"

"I fucking said what I said!"

"Fuck you!"

"FUCK YOU!!"

The sound of your heavy breathing filled the kitchen. You could feel your chest rising and falling, your face burning from the overwhelming anger. Butcher sighs at the sight of you as he looks away with his eyes closed.

"You don't know half the things I know sis... you have to understand..."

"No... don't bother telling me. I already know that you'll never change..." You grabbed your things and before he could stop you, you left the house, slamming the door while you were at it.

For the next 8 years, you would find yourself living somehow a happier life. Making friends, going through relationships and heartbreaks, getting multiple jobs to pay for your apartment. It was like an ocean wave since it was never steady but you couldn't deny you've never felt more alive.

However, even on these good days, there were nights you'd find yourself waking up to nightmares. Nightmares of your brother dying. Nightmares of being abandoned. It always left you covered in cold sweats and sometimes you couldn't go back to sleep so you'd just sit by the window or watch some videos online to keep your mind off it.

Even though you convince yourself you were happier.

You never felt secure.

You always felt like something was out to get you.

Especially after you saw the news of him theorised to have killed the senior vice president working at Vought. You couldn't bother to remember her name cause the image of your brother was hauntingly enough. That's when you realised, if they were after him, what if they were also after you?

You stood at the counter of the restaurant you worked at. The job was new as you interviewed for the role of the cashier. Though all these days of dealing with rude customers and having to force a smile is making you want to rethink a different job. Just then, the door to the restaurant opens.

"Welcome!" You said as cheerfully as you can. Instead of searching for a table to sit, the customer approaches you.

"I'm sorry but where's the restroom? I really need to go" The customer spoke, he was wearing an awfully lots of layers, even shades indoors.

"It's just at the back to the right, there's a huge sign, it's hard to miss it" You smiled and the customer stares at you for a while before nodding.

"Thank you"

Finally, he leaves and you couldn't help but be relieved. Why were you holding your breath in the first place? After a couple more hours of standing around and smiling, your shift was done. You did your daily duties and cleaned up the place, making sure it was clean before you leave.

"Bye (Y/N)! Don't forget about our hangout this Friday night!" Your friend spoke as she leaves first.

"Trust me I'm looking forward to it!" You replied before heading to the back of the building to throw the trash away.

You were on your way to the huge bins until you felt the trash bag become lighter. You stare down and was annoyed the second you saw that the bag had tore. It's settled, you're getting a new job after you get your salary. You crouched down and tried to think of ways to solve the issue.

Once you stood up, you felt a sharp pain on your neck. Before you could even do anything to find the source of the pain, you collapsed. The last thing you could feel before becoming unconscious was the touch of someone catching you.

....

"Will it work?"

........

"We've only tested on rats. We're not sure sir"

...........

"Do I have to rephrase? If she dies, you fucking die with her, you understand?"

...............

"Yes sir"

.....................

"Good. Now do what you're only good for, you fucking worthless piece of shit"

...............................

Lights... knives... syringes... you slowly awoke on the floor as faint images of what you would recall as a memory began flashing in your head. Did that happen? It felt real. You opened your eyes and blinked a couple of time to register the room you were in.

You were... in a cage?

You looked around, the walls and floors made of white marbles which made it cold when your skin made contact with it. Now that you realised, you were no longer in your uniform, you seemed to be wearing some kind of gown patients would wear for surgery.

"Morning sunshine!" Your body jumped when you heard a familiar voice, a voice you only heard on the tv or radio shows. You stare at him as he walks to the center, a few feet from your cage.

It was Homelander. You never thought the day would come where you would be face to face to the person behind the reasons of your brother's rampage.

"Did you rest well?" He asks, an eary grin on his face. You looked around the inside of your glass cage.

"Couldn't you have given me a mattress?" You said. Your concern catching him a bit off guard but he didn't show it.

"Well, we tried to give you something more comfortable to sleep on but it seems like anyone who tried to even touch you ended up well... what's the word for it... withered. Dead. Nothing but a corpse suck dry of it's life" He said but you had no idea what any of his words meant.

"Is this some joke?" He chuckles.

"No. No joke (Y/N). I'm simply just giving my hypothesis on your new powers"

Powers? You have to be high right?

Did whatever pain that you felt was the mark of your death?

Is this some sick twisted illusion of yours created in hell?

"Yeah right... and I'm fucking Beyonce. Would you like to see my collection of Grammys?" You said sarcastically, clearly not taking anything seriously.

Homelander doesn't say anything but just laugh, since you were clearly convinced this was hell and that you were dead, you laughed along with him. He trembles his shoulders as if he's cold, that devilish grin still on his face.

"Wooo! You're a jokester aren't you (Y/N)? I know I'm just gonna love you. How about I bring you a gift as a symbol of our blossoming friendship?" He asked but he had already left the room. Your answer never even needed at all.

As your laughter died down, you were left alone in the room. You felt high. Too realistically high. Were you pumped with drugs? Shit... you grabbed your head as you tried to process the feeling until you heard the sound of a high pitched scream. You turn your head to find it to be your friend from work. She was shoved into the room and right when she stood up to leave, the door was shut.

"Let me the fuck out! You fucking bitch! You promised me weed!" She slammed on the door a couple of times after attempting to twist the doorknob open.

"Cleo?" She turns to you, her masacra ruined from her tears.

"(Y/N)? Holy shit what happened to your hair?" She said and you were confused until you checked to see the front strands of your hair now dyed white.

Okay now what in the actual fuck is happening...

"I don't know...? Why are you here?" You questioned.

"Some fucker promised me weed for some cash. I should have known better when I saw how cheap it was" She sighs as she sits against the door.

Suddenly the glass door on your cage sprung open. The two of you exchanged confused expressions. Is this some kind of trick? You wondered but either way you stepped out from your cage and began to approach your friend. She sighs as she curls up into a ball.

"What the fuck even is this place...?" She asks after you finally sat down beside her. You rubbed her arm to provide some comfort.

"I don't know... this feels real and fake at the same time. Hey, if by any chance we were in a puzzle just like in Saw, how much do you wanna bet who'd win—?" You nudged her playfully but instead of getting a response. She falls over.

Her face was pale white. Eyes dilated. The veins on her body growing visibly purple. The sight left you in shock and you quickly grabbed her by the shoulder to jerk her a few times. No words left her mouth except sounds of gasping, as if the air was getting sucked out of her lungs.

"Cleo! What the fuck! Holy fucking shit!" You cursed and it didn't take long until her body grows limp. Like a skeleton with a thin layer of skin left.

Afraid the same would happen to you, you quickly ran into your cage. You sat at the corner, trying your hardest not to look at your friend. That was real. This isn't some stupid trick set up by Satan. This is fucking real.

But why is this happening?

Why you?

The glass door slammed shut and the noise made your body jump. The door to the room opened but got stuck at the weight of your friend's corpse. You could hear the sound of disgust come from Homelander as he ends up kicking body aside to be able to open the door fully.

"So... did you like my gift?"

"What the fuck did you do? Did you poison her?" You said which he seemed offended at.

"Me? Oh please, I can shoot fucking lasers out of my eyes and I choose to poison some fucking nobody? I mean look at her" He chuckles, his eyes staring at the corpse of what was your friend.

His tone and words growing a small wave of anger within your chest.

"What do you want from me?"

"You know what I want" He said, the smile on his face gone. He was now serious. His gaze cold enough to send shivers down your body.

"(Y/N) Butcher. Butcher. I didn't know he had a little sister" He took a step closer, then another, until he was face to face to the glass, staring down at your figure hiding away in the corner.

"He really doesn't get scared huh? Not afraid of death, to take a life, not even me. And well... since he fucking hates supes so much, then I might as well make his beloved sister one. If I can't strike fear in him, you will" Homelander spoke, the corner of his lips twisting into a grin. As if all of this was bringing him some sick enjoyment.

"Everyone will be the pawn and you'll be the queen... so save your strength. You're gonna need it sweetheart" He turned around and as he leaves, he stares at the corpse for a quick moment. Even from inside the cage you could hear him shout for the people working to clean the body.

Fuck... this cannot be your life now...

You're now an animal kept in a cage.

Hours progressed to days then months. The only thing keeping you entertained was... the toilet? Aside from that was the visits Homelander would pay you every now and then to make sure you were alive. It almost seemed like he had expected you to be dead by now but you weren't, which he's impressed about.

You laid on the ground, staring at the ceiling. You were bored so you decided to try to count from 1 to 10000 this time. Just as you got to 482, the door opened and you turned to see it wasn't Homelander but rather a worker. Assuming he's just here to clean, you turned back to the ceiling to continue counting.

"Pssh, ma dame, do you hear me?" He knocks on the glass, his french accent caught your attention.

"I don't care. I'm not gonna strip for you"

"Nono! That's not why I'm here, your brother, Billy Butcher? He sent me here" His name striking something in you. You got up as your eyes are slightly widened.

"He knows I'm here?"

"Yes... he's here as well. He's gonna try to get you out of here"

Just as he finishes talking, the glass door sprung open. He gets in the cage and reaches for you but right as you reach for his hand, you remembered you weren't the same anymore, you were cursed, so you quickly pull your hand away. Your action causes the man to tilt his head in confusion.

"Do not worry, I'm not here to hurt you" He tries to take a few steps closer but you quickly stepped back.

"No.... no stop! That's enough!" You raised your hands gesturing him to stand where he's at.

"Don't touch me..." You added and he stares at you for a moment before taking a few steps back until he's out of the cage.

"Okay... but you must follow me. We don't have much time left" He said, walking out of the room and you hesitated for a while before following after him.

When walking down the hallway, you couldn't help but look around the area. This was your first time seeing the place you've been trapped inside for supposedly months. As you followed the strange man who saved you, you noticed that he seemed to be talking to someone over his earpiece. Was it Butcher?

After managing to sneak past several guards and having a few close calls, you two finally made it out from one of the back doors. You hurried as you followed the man somewhere. You couldn't believe it. The feel of the wind and the smell of the grass was making you wish you appreciated the outdoor more.

"Were you noticed?" His friend who's been on the look out asked. He shakes his head.

"No" After hearing his reponse, his friend turns to look at you.

"I'm M.M.... C'mon, your brother put in a lot to save you" He began walking away and the two of you simply went along.

He did?

"I haven't introduced myself. I'm Frenchie. It's nice to meet you" The man who saved you earlier said with a smile and you weakly smile back.

The moment the three of you reached a van parked in a safe area. The door slide open and your eyes widened once you were locked eyes with someone familiar. Yet he looked so much different now. He grew a beard. You had to admit, it made him look less ugly.

"(Y/N)..." He got out of the van and was ready to embrace you but you quickly avoided his grasp. This causes him to stand there with his arms hanging there awkwardly.

"Ooookay.... get in" M.M told Frenchie and they did just that, sliding the door close to give you both the privacy.

"All these years and you still hate your ol' brother" He jokes as he drops his hands down to his sides, but it was clear that he was upset at your actions and trying to hide it.

"Don't touch me"

"I got it"

The two of you stood there and you were staring at him a little too hard. Thoughts racing in your head like a racetrack. What the fuck has he been up to these years and how did he even find you?

"So... are we jus' gonna stand here and wait for 'em to realise you're missin'?" He nods at the facility nearby and you sigh.

"You're taking me home" You walked over to the passenger seat but the sound of Butcher clicking his tongue made you stop halfway in your tracks. Now you were standing in front of the van.

"Not gonna happen. Is your head loose of screws sis? They know who you are now, which means they know where you live. You're gonna be stayin' with me" He said.

Shit... there's really no chance of a normal life now. You really are cursed.

"Stay with you? With these guys?" You point at the van and from the front of the vehicle, you could see his friends all huddled in the back, the whole time they've been secretly listening to the conversation but once you pointed at them, they tried to act as though they haven't been doing so.

"They can protect you"

"I don't need protecting. The last thing I need is someone doing that"

"Oh really? Then mind sharing your experience in there? Was it a luxury? How much longer do you think you could have lasted if I hadn't found you" He took a few steps closer and you gave him a warning look.

"You're my sister... you think a few fights is gonna change that?" He tried reaching for your shoulder and you quickly dodged it. Failing to notice, tears were beginning to well up in your eyes because deep inside, you were desperately in need of comfort, a hug, anything physical but you couldn't even have that.

"You can't touch me... nobody can.... f-fuck... I killed my friend just by touching her..." You began to sob, your hands grabbing onto your face in an attempt to hide your expression. A frown appears on his face.

"What the fuck did they do to you...?"

"They made me a freak! They gave me these fucked up powers!! I don't want this...!" You cried, wishing this was another of your nightmares and that none of this was real.

"It's okay... come here..." He began to step closer to you but you were too numb from the feeling to even react.

Taking off his coat, he puts it securely around you before wrapping you in his arms. For the first time in months, you finally felt the presence of another person's embrace. The warmth felt so good. It was like you were melting from it. Your sobs grew weak as you nuzzle onto his chest, the fabric separating the contact of your skin with his. This was everything you needed right now.

"We'll get through this... these powers of yours ain't gonna scare me away" He said, rubbing your back gently.

"Thank you..." You muttered.

After you escaped and made it safely away from your prison. Homelander was alerted of your escape a few hours later. He arrives at the facility, walking down the hallway as the doctors walking by were scared to see him and trying their best to avoid his sight. Once he walks in the office of the head security, the man sprung up almost instinctly.

"Sir" He greets him. Homelander doesn't say anything but stare at him... before breaking into a smile.

"Great job, at least you're good at failing at your job. Now show me" He walks over to the guard's side who's hurrying to click a few things on his computer to show him what he came here for.

"The tracker we planted in her is working well and fine. She's currently in a vehicle heading somewhere"

"Good... it's like sending a cat to a bunch of rats" Homelander then gave the man a strong pat on the shoulder.

"Do we go after them sir?"

"No, keep an eye on her for now. I'll tell you when the time is ready" Without any further discussion, he left the office. A plan already set in his mind.

(I might make a part 2 but I'm not sure if anyone would be interested, it'll be sort of fluff where the boys figure out her powers, some angst? Idk, tell me if you think I should)

[mclacedes]

The Idea of You (LN4)

2. The Idea of Worthiness

summary: in which lando decides to make it up for ghostin you

previous ••• next

WARNINGS: it's pretty much all angst. in-depth described anxiety attack, anxious behaviour/mannerisms, description of depression and suicidal ideation, loneliness

wc: 3k

“but what if i can't do it?”

A/N: before anything else, i want to make it clear that my intention is NOT to trigger any kind of trauma in anyone with this. the reader has been warned of potential triggers. if you are going through some kind of psychological hardship, know that there are people who care and who worry <3 you are never 100% alone!

january 1st, 2024 — 3:30pm

you came home with a knot in your chest that seemed to tighten with every breath. the morning had been a blur, an awkward dance around lando’s mother as you searched for a polite excuse to leave.

of course you'd chosen the most simple and non-negotiable of lies: i need to spend some time with my relatives.

despite it being faintly true, you knew you'd spend the whole day with lando's family if the circumstances were different.

the night's words lingered in your mind as you walked out, wishing it could cover the truth: you couldn’t bear the thought of facing lando after what had happened—or rather, after what didn’t happen.

now, the silence in your own home was suffocating. you slumped onto the couch, your mind replaying the scene on a loop: lando's words, lando's reassurance, the way his lips had bruised yours, the heat of his breath so close, his hands on you, his hands in you, his fingers’ magic, and then... you wake up alone.

now, you knew lando felt the same, you knew that things could work out, you knew just the intensity of your feelings for him. but you also knew he hadn't texted you back all day and, seemingly, nobody knew where he was.

as his closest friend, you knew that he'd only have left that way if something really bad had happened.

what you didn't know though, was how bad it felt for him.

it had been a long time since lando had received the diagnosis. after years of wondering what was wrong with him and why he felt such a void within himself, he'd been told he had depression.

what they say is that treatment is easier when you have the right diagnosis, but that doesn't erase the fact that some days were infinitely more difficult than others—harder to get out of bed, harder to leave the house, to work, and singularly hard to live, specially because the latter is the last thing you want during a depressive episode.

he started going to therapy regularly when he was a minor, forced by his parents, but when he became an adult he left—said that talking about how horrible he felt wouldn't help, it would only make him feel worse.

and then the episodes gradually became worse as his life improve. for example, before arriving in F1, he oftentimes found himself fighting against the urge to simply end it all: the pain, the suffering, the disruption, the constant failed attempt at a better day, his very life.

even though he never attempted it, lando was caught contemplating the possibility of the end; he used to wonder how people would react when they heard "lando norris died, suicide", what it would be like if he wasn't here anymore.

“such a kind soul”

“such a beautiful boy”

“smart, funny”

“talented guy”

that's what people would say, in the best of cases.

in the worse of cases people wouldn't even notice he was gone.

well, following next to depression was anxiety.

lando’s anxiety was a constant undercurrent to his depression, feeding off it, amplifying it, tangling him further in a web of self-doubt. it was always there, an invisible weight pressing down, but some days it grew loud enough to silence every other part of him, like a swarm of thoughts buzzing incessantly, trapping him in a looping worry about everything and nothing all at once.

it started with racing—the very thing he loved was also the source of his most unrelenting fears. despite his undeniable talent and the acclaim he’d earned, the worry always crept in: what if i mess up? what if i’m not good enough? what if it’s all just a fluke, and one day everyone realizes i’m a fraud?

he dreaded that moment when the lights turned green, not because of the physical danger but because of the psychological toll—that split-second when any mistake, any misstep, could spiral out into a visible, unforgivable failure.

even beyond racing, the anxiety spilled into every facet of his life. he overthought every message he sent, every interaction, analyzing them for any hint of rejection, any confirmation of his worst fears. if he didn’t receive a response right away, his mind spun stories, convincing him he’d somehow upset the person or made a fool of himself.

and now, with you, it was worse. his feelings were tangled with worry and doubt; he feared you’d eventually see through his flaws, his bad days, his cracks, and walk away. the closeness you’d shared the night before terrified him. he wanted you desperately, yet that desire to let you in also exposed him to his greatest fear: that he would scare you away merely by the fact that he existed.

this anxiety could sometimes send him into a state of paralysis, leaving him unable to reach out, unable to bridge the gap even when he wanted nothing more than to feel your presence, to hear your voice. today was one of those days—the aftermath of a moment so perfect, so vulnerable, that his mind filled with a thousand worries. he couldn’t bring himself to message you, to even show you the rawness of his internal struggle. instead, he withdrew, waiting for the fog to clear enough for him to reach for you again.

but you had tried.

you: lando hey

you: i'm worried abt u

you: text me whenever u get the chance pls

you: i'm right here if you wanna talk”

there were another 20 texts of kindred nature from you in his phone—you spent the afternoon rewinding what had happened, wondering if there were any signs that he would do something to himself or… the devil god knows what.

you had barely moved or done anything at all since you had gotten home because lando still hadn’t texted back, and the worry in your chest was growing impossible to ignore.

you’d known him for years—long enough to see the shadows he kept hidden behind his easy smile. he had always brushed off the subject, deflecting it with humor or quick changes in conversation. but today, his silence was colder, sharper, more unsettling than usual.

hours had passed since you last saw him, and finally, you gave in and sent him a message, trying not to let the desperation seep through.

you: lando, i hope you’re alright. let me know when you’re home safe, ok?

the message delivered, but no ‘read’ receipt appeared. your heart sank, and as you stared at the screen, scenarios spun wildly in your mind.

lando was good at hiding. he knew how to pour himself into everything and everyone else, keeping busy, laughing, entertaining—until he couldn’t. when the episodes came, he retreated so far into himself that it was like trying to find someone in a pitch-black room.

you tried calling him. the line rang and rang, finally going to voicemail. your voice was barely a whisper as you left a message.

“lando… if you see this, please just… come home. or let me know you’re okay. i’m here, alright? no matter what, i’m here.”

when the call ended, the silence in your apartment felt just as cold as his void.

—

unbeknownst to you, he was okay.

at least that's what he said to max when he called saying cisca was worried about him. and thats what he said when he called his mom.

“i’m okay.”

but he knew there was nothing okay with him right now.

far away, in his silent retreat, a wave of coldness washed over him, and his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. that feeling in his chest was known: he was panicking.

it felt like the walls were closing in, a vice squeezing his chest tighter with every passing second. his hands trembled, fingers twitching as if searching for something to anchor him, to ground him in reality. he fought to keep his breathing steady, but the more he tried, the more elusive calm became. memories of your kiss haunted him—both a balm and a wound. how could something so beautiful leave him feeling so lost?

what if i’m not enough for her? he thought

a tight knot of fear formed in his stomach, mingling with the ache of longing. was he really ready for this? for you? for love? the questions spiraled, colliding with the weight of his own expectations and the pressure of his career. he couldn’t shake the sense that he was on the brink of something monumental, yet all he felt was the crushing weight of uncertainty.

the doubt crept in, fueled by echoes of his past, whispers of inadequacy that had followed him through the years. he recalled the stinging memories of being told he wasn’t good enough, of moments when his efforts felt like they never quite measured up. every trophy he’d won and every incredible milestone he had achieved done little to silence those voices. instead, they morphed into an insidious belief that no matter how hard he tried, he would always be a step behind, always falling short.

what if she hates me?

with you, the stakes felt impossibly high. what if he couldn’t be the partner you deserved? what if the pressure of the spotlight overwhelmed him and drove you away? those thoughts twisted in his gut, feeding the anxiety that swelled within him. he imagined you in a world where he wasn’t there, finding someone who could offer you the stability and unwavering support he feared he lacked. the very thought crushed him, deepening the ache in his chest, as it reminded him of all the times he had to fight for validation, only to come up empty-handed.

he was scared of what loving you meant, terrified of failing you, terrified of failing himself. the weight of it all felt unbearable, a heavy blanket of dread that threatened to suffocate him.

what if i fail her?

lando was too scared, too anxious. with every breath, his lungs ached, and with every tear that gathered in his eyes, he felt weaker. it was as if he were standing on the edge of a precipice, the ground crumbling beneath him, and the vast unknown loomed below—a place filled with possibilities but also with the risk of falling into darkness. he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, trying to ground himself as the rising tide of emotions threatened to pull him under.

every heartbeat felt like a reminder of his vulnerability, a painful pulse that echoed the uncertainty gnawing at his core. he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was teetering on the edge of something profound, yet all he could focus on was the suffocating fear of not being enough. the love he felt for you, so pure and intoxicating, was also a heavy burden, weighed down by his past failures and fears. the thought of letting you down, of not living up to the promise of what could be, sent chills racing down his spine.

she's too perfect, i'm a mess

as tears spilled over and streamed down his cheeks, he felt a mix of shame and desperation. lando had always prided himself on being strong, on facing challenges head-on, yet here he was—vulnerable and exposed, battling an internal storm that felt relentless. the very act of loving you felt like a gamble, one that he wasn't sure he was ready to take. would he be brave enough to step forward, to embrace the chaos of his heart, or would he retreat back into the safety of his own fears?

with every sob that escaped him, the overwhelming tide of emotion pulled him deeper, and he struggled to keep his head above water. the thought of calling you, of reaching out for the connection he craved, felt both necessary and terrifying. what if you saw him like this—raw, broken, and afraid? what if he could never find the words to explain what he felt, or worse, what if you saw him as nothing more than a disappointment?

what if she saw me for who i truly am?

taking a shaky breath, he reached for his phone thrown on the couch, sitting on it. his hands were still trembling as he dialed the only person, besides you, who he knew wouldn't judge, but understand him.

“hey, mate, how you doing?” max fewtrell greeted him with his usual easy grin, only for the smile to falter the second he took in lando’s state: tears streaked his face, his eyes swollen and red, his nose and cheeks raw from wiping at them. his lips, split and bloodied, told the story of how he’d been biting them all day. lando’s breath hitched in his throat, his words barely making it out.

“hey… mate, i—” he tried, but the lump in his throat choked him. lando couldn’t even speak.

“lando, what happened?” max said, his voice low and steady, concern etched across his face.

“i think i… i fucked things up with Y/N,” lando's voice cracked, desperation pouring from him as if his world was unraveling right there in front of max.

the sight in front of max sent a chill through his spine. lando's looks, disheveled, like he’d been pulling at it in frustration all day. his bright green eyes were dulled, sunken and rimmed with red. the bags beneath them were dark, a stark contrast against his pale skin. his hands trembled on his knees, unable to steady themselves. his chest heaved, like the panic was consuming him from the inside, leaving only a fragile shell of the person max had known for years.

lando wiped at his face, the back of his hand coming away wet. he shook his head, sinking deeper into the couch.

“we kissed, we slept together and i pushed her away, max. i—i could’ve stayed. i could’ve—” his breath caught again, ragged and uneven. “but i left with no explanation. i went up and left her there, max… i’m so stupid.” he cried out.

lando’s breath hitched, and he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the tears, but it was no use. his shoulders shook, and a sob escaped him, raw and unfiltered. he hadn’t felt this way in a long time—like he was too broken to be loved.

"max, i’m a mess," he whispered, his voice cracking. "i couldn’t stay, i couldn’t even look at her this morning because… because she deserves better. i mean, look at me," he gestured to himself, his hands trembling. “i’m fucked up, max. i couldn’t even say the words, couldn’t even be honest. how can i be with her when i don’t even know what’s going on in my own head?”

max’s brows furrowed, his face softening as he listened. lando looked like he was spiraling, and it hurt max to see his best friend like this—feeling like he didn’t deserve something good because he was caught in his own storm.

“lando, mate,” max started, carefully choosing his words, “you’re not as messed up as you think you are. yeah, you’ve got stuff going on, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve her, or that you don’t deserve to be happy. and running away from her because you think you’re too broken for her… that’s not the answer.”

lando shook his head, wiping at his eyes, his voice trembling as he spoke. “but i am broken, max. i don’t even know how to deal with my own shit, let alone someone else’s. she’s this… this amazing person, and i’m just… i’m just me. she deserves someone who has it all figured out, not someone who’s going to bolt the second things get real.”

max let out a breath, leaning forward a bit. “no one has it all figured out, lando. not me, not her, not anyone. she’s not expecting you to be perfect, she’s expecting you to be real with her. that’s all. and yeah, maybe you’re not in the best place right now, but you can’t let that be the reason you push her away.”

lando let the words sink in, but it didn’t ease the heaviness inside him. “i left because i thought… i thought i’d hurt her more by staying. i didn’t want her to see me like this. i didn’t want her to see how much of a mess i am.”

“but by leaving, you hurt her anyway,” max said gently. “because she cares about you. and if you care about her too, you’ve got to let her in, even if it’s messy, even if you don’t have all the answers. it’s okay to not have everything together, lando. it’s okay to be scared. but you can’t run from this.”

lando swallowed hard, staring at the floor, his fingers gripping the edge of the couch until his knuckles turned white. max was right. he had run—run because he didn’t think he was good enough, run because the idea of her seeing all his cracks terrified him.

“but what if i can’t do it? what if i let her down again?” lando’s voice was barely audible now, thick with doubt.

max’s expression softened even more. “then you figure it out, together. but you’ve got to give her the chance to make that choice. don’t decide for her that you’re not good enough. let her in. let her see you, even the parts you’re scared to show. that’s how you build something real.”

lando’s breath came in short, shallow bursts, his heart pounding in his chest. the thought of opening up like that—to be fully seen, in all his messiness, all his vulnerability—scared him more than any race ever had. but the thought of losing Y/N, of pushing her away because of his own fear… that scared him even more.

“yeah, sure,” lando whispered, his voice hoarse. “i need to talk to her. i need to fix this.”

max smiled softly, relief flickering in his eyes. “yeah, mate. you do.”

after bidding his best friend farewell, lando sat and tried to calm himself down by pressing his fingers with exposed raw flesh due to the fact he had gnawed at his own hands out of anxiety. he had to come up with something to make it up to you. he needed to.

TAGGINGS: @meglouise00 @rawr-123s-stuff

[salix-babi]

Still Yours

[ Dan Heng x Reader | SFW | Masterlist | AO3 ]

Synopsis: Dan Heng reunites with the group at Scalegorge and seeks to sooth a tension that's developed between the two of you.

Notes: Had another version of this I wrote to completion then completely scrapped it because I was dissatisfied with the ending. Perfectionism is a burden I must overcome. Writing this just happens to coincide with the return of IL's banner but I'm lowkey hoping it blesses my pulls. I need him. If he comes home, I'll work on a nsfw part 2 so PLEASE. GIVE ME YOUR BLESSINGS.

cw: SFW, some suggestive themes in the latter half, gn!reader, lil angst, yearning, reader is a tease, established relationship, reader can be perceived as TB, spoilers for Topclouded Towerthrust Trailblaze Mission.

Word Count: ~3.6k

The two of you hadn’t exchanged a word since Dan Heng managed to reconnect with the departed expedition team on the Luofu. Looking far different from how you last remembered him.

Not as he parted the oceans.

Not as you traversed the ruins of Scalegorge.

Not as you fought Phantylia.

Every time his gaze found on you, you were looking elsewhere. Occupied with murals or enemies that stood in your path. In all fairness, there wasn’t much breathing room with the destruction of the Luofu so close at hand, but the absence of your gaze felt… empty. Cavernous in his chest and tight all at once. Like he was still apart from you despite only standing a few feet away at any given time. He didn’t like it.

Dan Heng could count on one hand (one finger, even) the amount of times as you traveled through Scalegorge that the two of you were alone. An opportunity squandered by a hesitance he couldn’t quite place. A spike of anxiety as he caught you idle by a Vidyadhara egg. Your eyes (never once on him) focused beyond its iridescent sheen to the individual cradled within. He should speak. He knows he should. The back part of his brain screams to utter your name, no matter how weak it may sound in absence of your attention. Your care. …But instead, Dan Heng finds his words caught in his throat. His chest still, his limbs frozen, and his eyes transfixed. He watches with bated breath as you press a gentle palm against the egg’s cold outer shell, seeking the Vidyadhara within. You close your eyes, and listen to the echoes of a past life as it slowly sloughs away with the coming and going of the tide. A medley of fortune and tragedy washing over you in waves.

In your focus, your expression remains unreadable to Dan Heng. A detriment made worse from the distance currently held between you, yet he doesn’t dare step closer. A thousand questions run behind closed lips, forced into a neutral line despite the anxiety writhing beneath his skin. Were you sad? Were you melancholic? Do you grieve a life’s end or celebrate its rebirth? Or did you see one’s past and future united in a single entity. Do you see him?

Dan Heng wanted to speak up then. To acknowledge the silent questions that lingered between you two. To quell his own growing anxieties. However, it’s not until you’re pulling away that he seems to find his limbs. Your attention bestowed not upon him, but March calling your name in the distance. You had lingered too long and Mr. Yang was advising against getting separated. It made sense. Dan Heng watches (only watches) as your connection to the egg severs, the flow of memories fading from your mind as you reconvene with the group and once again wander out of his reach. He can only follow silently, his eyes lingering on the egg for a fraction of a moment as he passes.

There was a tension between the two of you, of that he was certain the both of you felt. A chasm that was growing wider the longer you avoided him, and he kept his distance from you. Even March was beginning to look a little antsy. But with so much to do and so little time, a lover’s quarrel was hardly their biggest concern.

His next opportunity arises as the group is rushing out of Scalegorge, Phantylia gone and an unconscious Arbiter General in arm. As others tended to Jing Yuan (greeted in a frenzy by cloud knights and a furious Master Diviner in tow), there you stood at the base of the high elder’s statue, scrutinizing its stone features. There were parts of it that were similar, features passed down through generations upon generations of high elders. The horns of The Permanence themselves. The weapon and the water known to be wielded by Imbibitor Lunae. Even the silken hair that stretches down their back. Traditional.

Dan Heng, in truth, struggled to see the differences himself sometimes. Denied his right in molting rebirth, he remains a carbon copy of the man who incited sedition within the Luofu, traitorous and guilty of unpardonable sin. Many would like to think he is the same man. Capable of the same crimes. Perhaps he would be, if it were you. Though he can’t afford to think that. Many assume regardless. But you…

So caught up in trying to decipher your expression, Dan Heng nearly jumps out of his skin when your gaze turns to him for the first time since you left him on the Express days ago. A small part of him soothes to bask in your attention once more, but the larger part of him claws with anxiety, a turning unease in his stomach. The vidyadhara stiffens, heart spiking to his throat so hard he nearly chokes. You seem equally shocked, but the sudden nervousness darts his eyes away before he could read anything beyond that.

Somewhere in the commotion Mr. Yang suggests they return to the mainland to get the general proper care and the group moves obligingly, sweeping the two of you back into the residual excitement following Phantylia’s defeat and once again snuffing out any opportunities to talk.

One chaotic trip later and you’re finally saying your goodbyes to the Luofu officials for the night. Jing Yuan was in the hands of trusted individuals in the Alchemy Commission and Fu Xuan gives you the barest skeleton of a debrief, the remaining group agreeing a more in-depth discussion can be reserved for the morning once all had at least had a chance to rest properly and the general’s condition has stabilized. Even so, Mr. Yang opts to remain a moment longer with the intention of discussing the nuances of their plan to handle the stellaron, and March had long ago left for her hotel room the moment everyone stepped back on the mainland, exhausted beyond compare. You had no doubt she’d be out like a light well into the following morning. However that, in turn, left you and Dan Heng alone to traverse the path back to your hotel. The starskiff ride was quiet. The walk from the docks to the hotel, soundless. If you had something to say you weren’t saying it yet, and Dan Heng had no idea where to even begin.

It isn’t until you’re reaching for the handle of your own room, ready to squeak out an awkward goodbye, that your hand is snatched in the grip of another. The motion was so sudden, his grip so desperate in those small seconds where he squeezed your fingers, that it nearly draws a startled sound out of you. Your fingers hover over the notch in the door, hesitating for only a fraction of a moment before turning to meet Dan Heng’s gaze for the first time since Scalegorge. You expect coldness and ferocity within the jade orbs that have been boring into you all day, aspects you’ve seen reflected throughout your battles. You braced for harsh words, some declaration that your Dan Heng (yours) was…

Well, whatever you were expecting was not what you received. Your breath hitches when instead he seems to plead, and for a moment you see your own uncertainties reflected in him. It’s the first time you felt anywhere close to being on the same page, the air swirling with questions and uncertainties barely held behind stoic lips. The hand enveloping yours refuses to let go, Dan Heng’s fingers twitching with the habitual urge thread your fingers together and feel whole again. To hold and kiss you until there wasn’t a doubt in your mind about who he was. Who he wants to be for you. But these things take time. He can see it in the way you chew at your lower lip, eyes darting to the side as you consider your options. He prays you’ll indulge him.

The few seconds of silence are grueling, the near-stranger in front of you daunting in appearance yet so gentle in how he holds on. But the squeeze of the hand around yours is so reminiscent of the Dan Heng who would comfort you during your worst bouts of anxiety — would hold you close beneath warm covers and scold you while dressing your wounds with the care of a lover — that you acquiesce, fingers retreating from your door and nodding slightly. Dan Heng nearly sighs the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Instead, you feel his grip loosen a fraction around your hand. His shoulders lose a bit of their stiffness, but he doesn’t let you go, and you allow him to lead you further down the hallway to his assigned room.

The silence between you persists.

Your eyes are trained on the back of his head, on the flow of dark hair down his back, and the teal tips of a set of semi-translucent horns. The offset of anxiety gives way for curiosity and idly, you wondered if you could touch them. Would he feel it if you did? Or would their translucent appearance allow your fingers to pass through as if they were nothing at all. Even as the battle had ended, Dan Heng remained in this form for reasons yet known to you. You had assumed (wrongly) that perhaps he was just… this now. But clearly something deeper was going on. Different from the worst of your spiraling predictions, and that gave you hope.

You’re brought back from your thoughts to the telltale click of an unlocked door and with a gentle tug of your hand in his, he leads you inside, only letting go once you’ve stepped in to close the door behind you. Your eyes scan the room in the meantime. A standard unit no different from your own on the first night here, though considerably untouched. You wonder if Dan Heng had slept at all since arriving on the Luofu. You knew he would sometimes meditate to stave off sleep, pulling countless nights working on the archives and only displaying symptoms of sleep deprivation if he got too deep into his work over the weeks. (Now that you think about it, a lot of his habits seemed a little inhuman…) No doubt he couldn’t walk the busier streets of the Luofu without drawing unwanted attention, cutting off more direct paths to more important locations. The thought has a slight frown tugging at the corners of your lips.

There’s a bit of an awkward moment as Dan Heng tries to figure out how to broach the subject, one you realize you’re all too familiar with. It’s when Dan Heng stands still, remaining dead silent when he’s expected to speak. He’ll stay there, fidgeting in his own way despite the discipline he so prides himself in. Crossing his arms, closing his eyes, concentrating as if the words would come to him easier. As eloquent with his speech as Dan Heng can be, he often struggled with connecting it to his feelings. It’s significantly easier when you’re there to help him through it. The familiarity is endearing, comforting in a way. Unintentional as it was on Dan Heng’s part. It spurs you to make the first move.

You settle on the side of the bed, marring the soft, pristine sheets. Teal eyes follow your every move, darting for any sign of familiarity from you while still being too afraid to approach. He’s uncertain of where the border lies, if it differs from what it was before, and ever the cautious man, Dan Heng doesn’t know where to push. You give your best attempt at a reassuring smile, smoothing out the worried tick in your brows and holding out a hand. An invite. One that Dan Heng accepts. You’re grateful when he takes it, movements ever so stilted as he shuffles to sit beside you. (You decide against drawing attention to how he keeps holding your hand afterwards.)

Dan Heng aches to be close, unable to help the way your thighs touch as he sits next to you. You radiate warmth even through his thick robes, gentle and familiar. He wanted nothing more than to sink into that warmth. “I…” He swallows dumbly, thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand. Your more welcoming demeanor allows him room to think. “How… much,” he starts tentatively, keeping his eyes on your connected hands rather than you, “…have you learned of the previous High Elder?”

A quiet breath leaves you, one Dan Heng knows you’re trying to measure for his sake, but his worries spike anyways. “It…” The hand around yours squeezes tighter, and in the moments where you try to formulate your thoughts, his mind spirals through all your potential answers. The reason you were here must mean that some part of you, however small, still believes the Dan Heng you know still remains. He does. He knows he does. He’s all that left. Dan Heng sits before you, no different from the man you loved so warmly before all this began. Not Dan Feng. He just… needs to show you somehow. Quell your doubts just as he quells his own. “…” He braces to hear the sins of a past that is no longer his. The Sedition of Imbibitor Lunae, the unpardonable sin, and the sealed fate of all Vidyadhara.

“Does it… matter?” Your voice is tentative, quieter than he remembers. Dan Heng’s eyes widen unexpectedly. “When we first saw you today,” you continue, “you looked so different I... almost didn’t recognize you.” Now it’s your turn to look away, a reflection of your uncertainty in that moment burning into the floor. “For a moment I thought—” It's an awful feeling, one you can't bear for much longer. Your throat tightening, heart dropping to your stomach, dread settling like lead within you. Just the memory has you shuddering, blinking back tears meant for far worse scenarios. You lean against Dan Heng's side, craving normalcy just as much as him, and slip an arm around to hug his close, “I thought maybe you weren’t there anymore.” It's hard to say and even harder to hear. Dan Heng aches with the trepidation in your tone, squeezing your hand tightly. Like he could lose you in that moment.

“…I know.” It's all he can say.

“But... you’re still Dan Heng, right?”

He swallows the building pressure in his own throat, basking in the comfort of your pressure at his side while fighting back the urge to pull you closer still. To glut himself on you until the void of your absence sates. Dan Heng knows his answer. “Yes.” It's the most sure he's sounded, courage guiding his hand as it lifts your chin to face him. Draconic eyes bore into yours, sharp with determination despite the soft edges of unfettered yearning. "So long as you’ll have me, I want to be— I am Dan Heng.” He feels you shift beside him, jaw setting beneath his palm and this time, you look back at him with a scrutinizing stare. Eerily reminiscent of the way you had regarded the statue earlier. Nose scrunched and eyes slightly narrow. He’d find it cute under any other circumstance. Dan Heng stiffens. “Hmm…” Your spine straightens for a better vantage point, slipping your hand from his to poke at his cheek and tug gently at the sleeves of his clothing. “May I?” you ask, perhaps too politely to the vidyadhara’s anxious mind, but he nods all the same and you take his permission to raise yourself higher on the bed and gently settle yourself in his lap. Your legs straddle his on either side like you would any day before this one, and you let yourself look at him – really look at him – for the first time in this new form. Your familiar weight on his thighs is already doing wonders in quelling his nerves a bit. He’s thankful for the firm pressure there to ground him, and without thinking, he’s moved to rest his hands on your waist as he usually would. Always more than strong enough to keep you secure.

Dan Heng holds his breath under your scrutiny. He allows you to explore his more draconic form as you wish, using all his self-restraint to remain still as delicate fingers glide across his features. There’s a visible bob of his throat as digits rise from his neck and follow the curve of his jaw, brushing faintly across his lower lip before moving to press warm palms against his cheek. He wants more than anything to lean into your touch right now, nerves begging to feel more than just the trace of your touch against his lips after being apart for so long. But he’s frozen in place, more fearful that any sudden movements would scare you away. You’ve already been distant from him for far too long both physically and emotionally, and he doesn’t think he can stand you being so far for much longer.

You trace along the red marks lining his eyes, two now instead of the one mark you were used to. Your eyes catch his for a moment, finding piercing teal orbs staring back at you with an inherent intensity. Even unintentionally, his gaze demands your attention, longing and uncertainty swirling behind widened pupils. He was taking you in just as much as you were him, it would seem. So, your fingers continue their journey. Across his features, his nose and his cheek until ghost-like fingertips reach the auricle of his ear. The quiet breath he sucks in is… adorable, even more so the brief flash of teal in your peripheral signifying the movement of a tail. Soft fingers curl around the pointed tip of his ear to massage the cartilage gently between a thumb and forefinger, taking note of how his body stiffens a fraction. A different form yet his sensitive points have remained the same, it would seem. However, it’s only when he feels your touch travel upward along his hairline to trail soft pads along the curve of his horns that he fails to hold back a small, shuddering gasp.

“Sensitive…?” you ask as if it were nothing at all and there’s a slight hesitance in the shake of Dan Heng’s head, red beginning to visibly dust his cheeks. “Just… unexpected,” he settles on. The last thing he wanted was for you to stop. Not when you were finally so so close to him. He just couldn’t figure out what you were thinking. Were you aware of what your touch was doing to him? What it always does to him? Did you approve of all these differences in his appearance you were exploring so diligently? Or did you find it strange? Distasteful? Briefly, he finds himself regretting not reverting back to his more familiar form the moment they had left Scalegorge. He hadn’t needed to call upon the powers of the Imbibitor Lunae once Phantylia was dealt with, but every time he had glanced your way in this form, you had been looking elsewhere. He just couldn't move forward with you so uncertain about who he was. Who he wanted to be.

“Still mad at me for leaving without a goodbye kiss?” Your voice pulls him back to the present, wondering when he had closed his eyes in the first place with the way you were caressing his horns. It takes Dan Heng a moment to register your words, so distracted by the pass of your thumbs along its ridges. “W-what?” He blinks owlishly at you, pushing your hands away when he looks up half confused and half dumbfounded by the question. You smile impishly, arms coming to rest around his shoulders. “You always get grumpy when I leave without a kiss. So… are you?” The man frowns. You were teasing him. Dan Heng wants to get in your good graces. But… he couldn’t lie to you. On top of worrying about your wellbeing in the entirety of the week you’ve been apart, he’s also grown accustomed to spending his nights with you. Warm in the archives or out on a mission. He can understand a few days away, but to be without you for a week and without a goodbye kiss was… “I’m not mad, I just-…” His eyes flicker off to the ground beside you, hesitating as he finds his footing in his words. “I missed you.” Had he inherited the floppy ears of the Permanence along with those horns, you imagine they’d be sunken flat against the sides of his head with how saddened he looked in this moment. (Though you swear, swear you see those pointed ears tilt downward!!) But then you giggle, and he suddenly perks right up in surprise.

“Then you’re still my Dan Heng,” you hum softly and the relief that immediately floods the vidyadhara has him melting into your arms, canting his head forward to bump foreheads. The chime of another laugh makes him question if you had done all of this simply to tease him, wound up as he was. He’d think it cruel but, in the moment, he’s wanted nothing more than to hear those words. “Yes,” he breathes, unthinkingly. Arms wrap tighter around your waist, heeding wants to have you closer, and Dan Heng finally gives in to his desires. He closes what little distance was left to capture you in a kiss long overdue. Your lips were so soft, so perfect against his. Warm and gentle, the sensation all the sweeter having been without you for so long. Too long. You reciprocate with ease, a thumb stroking his cheek soothingly while your other hand slides down to rest at the side of his neck and he’s on cloud nine, sacrificing a hand of his own from your waist to reach for the back of your head and pull you closer, deeper, never wanting to let go.

“Yours.”

[specialagentartemis]

ykw i am having so much fan watching you be a hater, that i’ve decided to ask for more. PLEASE give us a rant about a book you hated.

Haha aw I'm honored. And uh I hope you don't have any particular attachment to Becky Chambers. Sorry in advance.

But A Psalm for the Wild-Built won a Hugo and I do not get the love. Book 1 was nice enough, yeah. Book 2 had me tearing my hair out.

Sibling Dex is a restless Tea Monk who serves the God of Small comforts on the science-fantasy planet of Panga. I genuinely love the idea of a tea monk - part therapist, part confessor, travels around to the different towns, mixes tea blends for people, lets them talk about their worries and fears and stresses, and gives them, if not advice, then sympathy and a listening ear and some calming tea. This is meaningful work but they're unhappy. After doing this for a while they're still unsatisfied with their life, so they go into the woods searching for self-actualization, and meet a robot named Mosscap, a wild robot that lives in the woods. See, hundreds of years ago, all the robots "woke up" and became sentient one day, then they staged a quiet rebellion against humanity's greed and industrialization by walking into the woods and never coming back. Now, the continent is split in half: humans stay on the Human Side, and robots stay on the Robot Side. The Robot Side is kept wild and humans are discouraged from going in there because humans can't be trusted not to ruin Nature. The rpbots are welcome to come to the Human Side, they just never have. Dex is the first person in a While to venture into the woods of the Robot Side, and the first human since the great walkout to see a robot. Mosscap gives Dex a lot of philosophical pep talks about not pushing themself so hard, about allowing themself to just rest and appreciate the world without feeling like they need to be Providing A Service to justify their existence. It's a nice theme. Underbaked, imo, but nice. Relateable.

Book 2 was a goddamn mess.

Book 1 mostly takes place in the wilderness of the woods, so it's okay if the nice utopian human community Dex comes from was sketchily-built. It Just Works, and everyone Is Just Nice, this is a science-fantasy parable. There were some issues I had with it - like the strict ideological and physical divide between Nature and Humans, and the fact that Dex's religion seems to be the Only Religion In The World, and it's vaguely secular-humanist with the gods being not "really" gods but names given to primordial forces and philosophical concepts, and the religion not really making any demands of its adherents in any way except to become their best selves and devote themselves to what they like... it's potentially interesting, but overall kinda lazy. It felt like Becky Chambers was aware of the idea that having an enlightened-atheist sci-fi utopia is Problematic, so she made there be a central religion, but she also didn't want it to have any of the ~icky~ things religions have, like belief in anything supernatural, or dietary restrictions, or creeds, or codes of behavior, or expectations to make any kind of sacrifice in any way. All the gods "ask" is that humans observe and appreciate the world. But whatever.

In book 2, Dex and Mosscap return to Dex's society, and the book seems to want to explain how the world works, and oh my GOD is Chambers not prepared to do this.

"Observe and appreciate" is all anyone is asked to do. Book 2, A Prayer for the Crown-Shy, is an ode to ultimate virtue of Doing Nothing. There's this attitude I see in a LOT of utopian fiction, where the author is bluntly just not a good enough author to imagine a utopian society where people act like people, so in the world of Panga, utopian society is achieved through 1) homogeneity 2) no one giving a crap about anything.

As far as I can tell, there is the one religion. Most people are Fine with this. Most people are Fine with anything. There are no characters with distinct personalities. There's no money, except there is, except it's not real money and no one will deny you anything if your balance is in the red, even though your balance is available to be seen by anyone - this does not cause any kind of shame or pride or competition in any way, and Dex doesn't understand why it might. There are no hierarchies or governing bodies, people just volunteer to step up when things need doing (this is portrayed as great and not deeply concerning). There are different communities, but in them, everyone is uniformly nice, friendly, and helpful at all times. There are some parts of nature, like the seashore, where people are not allowed to go because they'll ruin the environment, and this is accepted as correct and necessary. Most people live in hippie, pro-recycling, high-tech, end-of-history green communities; there's one group they visit, however, that doesn't trust technology, and lives in a vaguely sci-fi-Amish way. You might think, Dex travelling around with a robot, this might cause conflict! It does not. The people from this community calmly explain their anti-technology position, Dex calmly explains their pro-technology position, and they politely respect each other. "Not bothered either way" is a phrase that turns up in various permutations a lot and is held up as the good, mature, responsible way to be.

There's a scene where they catch a fish for dinner, and instead of killing it, the scifi-Amish guy says "We let the air do that for us, and they let the fish slowly suffocate to death in the air while they all look on solemnly and sadly. This is portrayed as a deep, beautiful moment of them witnessing and honoring the final moments of a living being's life. And not. y'know. them torturing a living being to death so they can keep their own hands clean.

This is what I mean about the valorization of passivity: observing is all you are ever obligated to do. Letting a fish die in the air is better than killing it quickly and humanely, because doing things gets your hands dirty, while letting things simply happen is the Correct way to do it.

At the end, Mosscap and Dex blow off all their promises and appointments and just hang out at the beach chilling out instead, because do what you want forever, you don't have to do shit. This is the happy affirming ending. Mosscap you fucking said you'd meet with the city leaders as the robot ambassador to the humans, did you tell them you were blowing off this commitment because you didn't feel like doing that anymore??? Did you even let them know??????

It is SUCH a baffling book. The theme wants to be "you are more than your job, you deserve to just Be" and ends up feeling like "you don't have to do anything ever, and no one can make you do anything you don't want to do if you don't feel like it, and you don't owe anyone anything and searching for a purpose in your life is just making you stressed out so chill at the beach instead."

The thing that drives me crazy is like. Mosscap cheerfully tells Dex about robots that spend twenty years in a cave watching stalactites form because they think it's beautiful, and those robots are just as much a valued part of society as anyone else. Appreciating beauty and wonder is good enough, you don't need to be productive. And I'm just. fuckin. like. Humans are not robots! Robots don't need to eat or sleep! Humans need food, and clothes, and shelter, and medical care, and if we don't have SOMEONE working to provide that, we Die! Nice as it would be, we CAN'T just all do nothing forever until we feel like it! We can't do that!

And at the same time, the book bizarrely treats wanting a purpose in life as like... almost disordered. If you are seeking a purpose in life it's because you just haven't let go of your guilt and relaxed enough. It's bizarre. Valorization of passivity. Humans aren't meant to be in nature so we just Shouldn't. Doing nothing and having no strong opinions is the most self-affirmed you can possibly be. Letting a fish suffocate is more moral than quickly breaking its neck or spiking its brain. Someone else will do it. Who, if we're all supposed to be resting and only doing what we feel like? Don't worry about it.

"The heart of this book is comfort [...] There is nothing in it that can hurt you." YOU LIAR BECKY CHAMBERS THE FISH SCENE STILL DISTURBS AND UPSETS ME TO THIS DAY

[7s3ven]

HELL-FIRE. luke (pjo) - pt 1

PART 1 > PART 2 (in progress)

IN WHICH… Y/N doesn’t want to admit it, but perhaps she and the mischievous son of Hermes have more in common than she originally thought.

“Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. I see my reflection in your eyes.”

Warnings : mentions of abuse

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

—

The cold water lapped at Y/N’s shoulders as she sank into the tub placed strategically in the corner of the empty cabin.

Life as a forbidden kid was hard. You had no siblings and everybody was expecting you to do grand things. A small sigh slipped past Y/N’s lips as the water heated up until it was at a temperature that almost scolded her skin. Perhaps it was because Hades, the king of the Underworld, was her father but Y/N always found herself fascinated by fire. She loved to watch the blue, orange, and yellow flames flicker in the dim darkness.

It wasn’t until her arrival at Camp Half-Blood did it all make sense. Y/N, the daughter of Hades, was able to control fire. Though, she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it. It all came in random bursts and every time she walked along the crisp green grass, a trail of brightly lit flames slithered after her.

The Demeter kids hated her for ruining the plush red roses that took them weeks to nurture. Y/N could understand their fury and she did her best to avoid their plants now, especially because her fire favoured the taste of Demeter’s flowers.

A quiet knock on the wooden door interrupted Y/N’s peace. She slowly rose from the water, droplets running down her finger tips. She slowly dried herself with a soft cotton towel before slipping her bright orange shirt over her head. She slid on a pair of loosely fitting pants before turning the knob, harshly pulling the door open.

“Do you need something?” Y/N asked, frowning at the small kid in front of her. He trembled and took a nervous step back.

“Luke… he… he told me to give this to you.” The kid stretched out his hand, practically shaking as Y/N stared down at the dark red rose. A lousy gift in her opinion.

Luke was the son of Hermes and the head counsellor of his cabin. He was popular amongst the campers and girls constantly swooned over him. Y/N, on the other hand, had no interest in romance. It had always been that way ever since she was born.

Y/N was conceived into this cruel world with a cold and empty heart. Her mother thought of it as a personality disorder at first until she realized that it was just how Y/N was. No amount of love forced into her arms could change the deep anger boiling inside of her.

Y/N took the rose, peering at it and scowling. “You’ve done your job. Scram.” She shooed the young Hermes kid away, almost shoving him off her rickety wooden porch. She caught sight of Luke watching her through the clean window of his own cabin.

He had never shown much interest in her before until a year ago, where we witnessed her easily take down some of the best fighters in camp.

He grinned at her, a gesture that should have made her heart flutter. But it didn’t. Y/N silently stared at him, feeling the sudden heat rush to her fingers. She lit the rose alight and it didn’t take long until only a few crisp and blackened petals remained in her grasp.

She quickly dropped them, scattering the remains of the once beautiful flower everywhere. It acted as a constant reminder that no matter how hard Luke tried, she was simply immune to his charm.

It’s not like Y/N didn’t want to love, because she did. She saw the Aphrodite kids treating Valentine’s Day like it was some big festivals. And she noticed how many of the boys in the Apollo cabin always had their eyes glued to one of the Athena girls.

They looked at her like she was a pile of treasure; like a precious jewel. They stared at her with such admiration and adoration that Y/N felt a little jealous. How come she couldn’t love while others could?

It was probably because of the darkness lurking within her, feasting away at every small spark of happiness until it was gone, resting in the belly of the beast. Anger, jealousy, and hatred consumed her easily. And she was bitter because of it.

It was pitch black by the time Y/N collapsed on her soft mattress. She was clad in shorts and a black crop top to battle the humid weather during Summer. She was half asleep when a quiet tap and rattle woke her.

Y/N quietly groaned. She knew who was waiting by her window, wearing a spare camp t-shirt and dusty grey shorts that stopped above his knees. His tapping become quicker and sharper until Y/N had no choice but to fling the window open.

“What?” She hissed at Luke.

He always came at the same time every night. Twelve o’clock sharp in hopes of wooing her. Y/N wasn’t stupid, she knew he was after something else that wasn’t romance related but until she figured out what, she wasn’t comfortable being alone in his presence.

Luke simply smiled, resting his chin on the sill. “Walk with me?” He questioned, jabbing a thumb over his right shoulder.

“It’s past curfew.” Y/N sharply retorted, glowering at him. Beams of moonlight shone down on the pair, acting as if the world were a stage that needed to be lit. Y/N could clearly see Luke tilt his head to the side, gazing up at her through his lashes.

“It’ll be quick.” He was persistent as always.

“What part of not interested confuses you?” Y/N threw the covers back over her body, prepared to crash her head against her feathered pillow and let her eyes flutter shut.

"One walk and I'll stop annoying you for a week."

That made Y/N pause. She stared at Luke, narrowing her eyes. A week wasn't long but it was better than putting up with his presence constantly. "Okay." She slowly said, causing Luke to victoriously grin. He pumped his fist.

"If we get caught, you have to take the blame." Y/N warned Luke as she stepped out of her cabin, pointing sternly at him. He wrapped a lock of her H/C hair around his finger, standing too close to comfort.

"I'd take every blame for you." He whispered, playfully winking. Y/N rolled her eyes in reply.

"I'd let you rot in a ditch." She pushed him away, storming down the stairs of the small porch. He clicked his tongue, eyes glazing over her movements. He jogged to catch up with her, his hand brushing against her leg.

The slight breeze surrounded the two of them as Y/N glanced up at the shining stars, her eyes darting around to spot all the different constellations. Luke followed her gaze, arching an eyebrow.

"What are you staring at?" He asked, licking his chapped lips. Y/N's eyes darted to look at him before she rolled her eyes, not saying anything.

"Can't you take a hint to be quiet?" She muttered after a minute of painful silence.

"No, I can. It's a choice to annoy you." He slyly smiled, bumping Y/N with his hip. She scoffed, shoving her hand into his face.

The crickets chirped loudly as Y/N walked past them, Luke following close behind. The air was colder now and Y/N relished the feeling of it against her skin. She almost forgot the son of Hermes was with her before he cleared his throat.

"No fire following behind us?" He questioned. He was used to the flames that often licked at Y/N's ankles but never dared burn her.

"That would get us caught." Y/N retorted. She faltered for a second, "Me, I mean. It would get me caught."

Luke lowly chuckled. "Nah, too late, Blaze. You said us. So there is something between us. And here I thought you only saw me as an obnoxious idiot."

Y/N sharply clicked her tongue, glaring at him. "Don't call me Blaze. And yes, I do see you as one."

"What would you prefer then? Conflagration? Inferno? Oh, what about Holocaust?"

"I didn't even know you knew those words." Y/N uttered, blankly staring at Luke. But Blaze was surely better than being called Holocaust.

"Blaze it is." Luke slung an arm around Y/N's shoulder, carefully testing the waters. The smell of burning flesh wafted through the air and Y/N quickly shrugged Luke's arm off, panicking slightly.

"Don't touch me." She said. It was supposed to be a harsh command but it came out as more of a desperate warning. Y/N's eyes darted to Luke's burnt skin. She scowled, at both his persistence to hold her and her inability to control her angry flames. It's not like she was actively trying to hurt people. It just... happened.

"I think it's time for you to leave." She said, her voice nothing more than a whisper. "Get your arm checked."

"It's late, no Apollo kid will be awake." His sizzling flesh didn't phase him in the slightest. He had dealt with worse, far worse. Like Clarisse's spear. "Besides, I like walking with you."

"At least soak your arm in water. It'll bring down the stinging sensation as well as protect it from risk of infection." Y/N was hesitant to even get near Luke, afraid of what her ability might do lest she lost control. But Luke was fearless. He'd grip her wrist a million times, even if it meant getting burnt, just to feel her skin against his.

He was like Icarus, unrelenting in his pursuit for greatness. He adored Y/N like Icarus loved the sun; too fast and too close. In a way, Y/N was death reincarnated. Pupils so big that it was unsettling, a glare so intense it could swallow you up, and a dark grace that followed her every move. Icarus died with broken wings but a fulfilled soul, just as Luke would if it meant he could hold Y/N.

Y/N led Luke towards a small pond and dipped her hand into the cool water. It started bubbling and Y/N instantly recoiled. Luke watched her, curious.

"Why do you do that?" He asked, gaining Y/N's wavering attention.

"Do what?" She muttered, furrowing her brows in confusion. Luke lightly chuckled, staring down at the rippling water.

"The fire thing. And heating up water. Why?"

Y/N shrugged. "It's not like I do it on purpose. It's random. Heating up water is easy enough but the flames are weird. I've tried spotting a pattern but I just can't see it." Y/N held up a finger, heat rushing to the tip. A flame flickered but it wasn't like her usual orange or blue ones. It was pink.

A light pink hue reflected off Luke's face as he peered at the fire, his eyes darting to follow its wild movements. He slowly dipped his charred arm into the water, grinning at Y/N who found slight amusement in playing with the pink flame.

"You ever think your flames follow your emotions?" He piped up, tilting his head to the side.

"Excuse me?"

"Your emotions. Maybe they control your fire." He shrugged, "Your flames are usually orange but when you get angry, which happens a lot, they turn blue. And the pink... I don't know. Love?"

Y/N sneered. "Love? Who would I be in love with?" It was a ridiculous suggestion. Stupid, even. Love didn't exist in Y/N L/N's world. Luke raised his brows, silently gesturing to himself. "I'd rather kiss a dragon."

Luke reached out to touch the flame and Y/N pulled away in a panic. "Don't!" She exclaimed, but Luke's hand was already waving through the fire. It didn't hurt in the slightest and Luke smiled. Y/N's whole hand exploded into pink-toned flames and she jumped, waving her hand around until the fire went out.

"Blaze... Do your emotions... scare you?" Luke asked. Y/N lightly scoffed, glaring at Luke as she always did. A flicker of blue glazed over her E/C eyes and then it was replaced with orange which quickly shifted into pink. And it finally returned to blue before disappearing as quickly as it came.

"Your eyes... they, uh..." Luke didn't know how to describe it. "Do they... somewhat flame up a lot?"

"Ignore that." She grumbled, shielding her face from Luke's hawk-like gaze.

"You intrigue me. Why do you act so bitter all the time, Y/N?" Luke questioned, clearing his throat. She paused, lightly biting down on her bottom lip. He didn't have room to judge because despite carrying around a kind and caring facade, Luke was just as mean as her underneath it all. Y/N just... didn't bother to hide it while Luke turned his head every time his eyes darkened or his lips curled into a disgusted sneer.

"I don't have a reason. Do you ever think that maybe I'm not acting and that I was born this way? Because I'm pretty sure I was."

"There's a reason for everything."

"Okay, you want to know why?!" Y/N exclaimed, fed up with all his questions and teasing. Luke calmly gestured her to continue.

"I hate them. I hate the deities above who call themselves our godly parents. They are just as fucked up as us, if not more. I mean, what were they thinking? Fucked up people give birth to fucked up kids. They underestimate us and abandon us and still think that we'll worship the ground they walk on. If I'm being honest, I don't think they love us. My father... Hades... he had an opportunity to save me from the abuse my mother was inflicting on me."

Luke's facial expression softened. His eyes locked with Y/N's angry ones and for a split second, he saw himself in her. A demigod desperate to prove themselves to their parent only to be disappointed.

"And you know what was worse? I saw him. I met him. He came to our house one day and I didn't know it was him in that moment but after I got here, it all made sense. The man who randomly showed up on the doorstep all those years ago and acted like he knew everything about me... was my father. The same man who dumped me in the horrible care of my mother. Hades, the supposedly only God who loved his half-blood child, actually abandoned her when he had the choice to take her with him."

"I get what you mean." Luke muttered, shifting closer to her. She didn't stop him. "I feel abandoned too. My dad, he did something similar. I agree with you when you say that the gods don't love us... because I don't think they do either. We're just... their pawns. You see this scar?"

Luke's finger trailed over the scar that adorned the side of his face. "My father... he gave me a quest that Hercules had already completed. I didn't want to do something someone else had already done but I thought, how hard could it be? And I failed it... I failed the quest. And some stupid dragon scratched me and gave me this scar."

"I don't get why they think we're expendable." Y/N's hands clenched into fists and she clicked her tongue. She turned to Luke, flinching at how close he was all of a sudden.

It all happened too quickly. One second Y/N's lips accidently brushed against Luke's and the next the whole field around the pond burst into a flood of pink flames. Y/N and Luke stood in front of Chiron, hands clasped behind them. Luke stared at the ground in shame while Y/N wasn't scared to look Chiron in the eye.

"You not only snuck out past curfew, which is breaking rules, but Miss Y/N, you also burned a fellow camper and set flames to the grass."

"Chiron, sneaking out past curfew was my idea." Luke, as promised, took responsibility for his actions. "And she can't control her fire and I provoked her so I deserved it anyway." Luke shrugged.

"That still doesn't excuse your behavior. I expect you to clean all the sword before the Ares kids mess them all up again."

Y/N scoffed under her breath. "This is all your fault. I can't believe I snuck out with you of all people." Y/N poked his shoulder and a small pink flame danced across his shirt before dissolving into thin air.

"Pink means love." Luke teased.

"I will burn you again." Y/N threatened, stomping on his foot.

"Hey, you wouldn't burn your ranting partner so soon, would you?" He grinned.

Y/N didn't want to admit it but she did share a lot of similarities with Luke. From their hatred for the gods to the feeling of being abandoned. "Talking with you wasn't entirely terrible." She muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Thanks, Blaze." He gently grasped her hand, pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckle. Y/N jumped and everything went up in flames again. Literally. "Y/N... Y/N, you're on fire. You are on fire!" But it didn't hurt. The flames wrapped around her like a comforting blanket as Luke stared at her in both awe and confusion. "It's kinda cool actually. It looks like you're glowing." Luke chuckled while she glared at him, wildly trying to pat the pink fire out.

"Come on, just admit you like me, Blaze. Even just a little bit. You find me pretty, don't you?"

"I do not!" Y/N exclaimed, the flames growing stronger. Luke teasingly raised his brows, staring at her with a knowing smirk. She scoffed, spinning around.

"See ya later, Blaze!" Luke called out as she stormed away. She turned around, deeply scowling at him.

"Shut up!" She shouted, a glowing trail of fire following after her and burning its way through the grass. Campers squealed at the sight, jumping out of the way.

Luke chuckled to himself, watching when Y/N sneered at a young Apollo boy. "She's so cute." He muttered to himself, shaking his head in amusement.

From the window, Chiron sighed at the familiar sight of Y/N's fire. "She's getting stronger." He said, frowning.

"So? At least her pink flames are harmless, unlike her blue ones. And don't get me started on that huge blowup she had last year. I didn't even know black flames existed until she blew up! More like exploded!" Mr D scoffed, shivering at the memory of Y/N's black flames. It was like a massive bomb went off.

Chiron was silent for a moment until he looked at Mr D. "She likes Luke." He quickly said.

Mr D instantly sat up, slamming his hand against the table in front of him. "Oh, yeah, definitely! I started shipping those two ever since they started bickering. Catch up, Chiron!"

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