#such a simple thing and yet rare enough to be really noticeable

[lemonycranberries]

sometimes i almost forget how refreshing it is to watch things created and directed by women... the scene where Sarah was filming that video focused on her face and on her emotions. the victim was very clearly shown as a victim.

that's expected from Al Rawabi, though; i'm really remembering how amazing this show is.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Devout

Guardian Angel alternative POV, or Jason Todd is the Arkham Knight, and he can't stop himself from watching you, from clawing his way into the cracks of your life in a twisted, mangled mirror of what he used to be ~3.5k words

CW: Jason commits a few murders, some gore, stalking, some religious imagery for fun

Jason Todd shouldn't be watching you. He knows it's wrong, knows he shouldn't be perched on the shadowy rooftop across from your apartment building, staring intently into your windows.

He knows. He knows. But he's doing it anyway– been doing it for weeks.

You haven't noticed once, so wrapped up in your own life, your peace of mind that no one would break the sanctity of your own home that you don't even consider closing your blinds.

He thinks you should know better. Gotham is tainted– he is tainted– yet you never spare a glance over your shoulder when he follows you down the street, never linger on that sixth sense that screams that you're being watched.

You pick up on his presence on the rare occasion, he thinks. The days you walk home quicker or the nights you actually slam your blinds shut makes him wonder if you do know you're being watched. But then you go back to normal, brush off every sign and every lingering feeling that something isn't right.

It almost makes him angry, sometimes, that you'd be so careless with your safety. But everything makes him angry now. It's a constant, tight grasp in his chest, the righteous fury he has against the world, against the city and its filth, against Batman.

The anger makes him reckless, or maybe he's just cocky. Maybe he wants you to know he's there. Jason doesn't let himself wonder why he does it. He might just be a masochist. He might just miss you. But he opens the faulty window to your living room that he knows squeaks and never quite locks right.

The first time he breaks into– visits your apartment while you're asleep, he doesn't touch a thing. He just takes in everything that's you, cleanses his fractured soul in the space he used to know like the back of his hand. The trinkets that sit on your counters. The paintings on the wall. The color of the blankets thrown over your couch.

He doesn't touch anything the second time, either. Or the third. The fourth time, though, he picks over the photos you keep on your shelves, the books you leave lying around. He moves them, just slightly. Just to see if you'll notice.

You don't. Not really. Not until the eighth time. He doesn't know why he does this either. He just does. He picks up your keys from where you usually keep them and moves them. It's something you can't deny. Something tangible and real and clear, an unyielding truth. He was here. He exists, and he can affect your life, change it with his hands.

(It's the first time he feels like he's truly alive since the asylum, the first time there's more than just revenge and watching you from afar, even if he feels like he's corrupting something that's only meant to be seen and not touched by impure, broken hands)

If your keys being displaced affects you, well, you don't show it for more than a few moments. And that bothers him. You might not know he's here– alive– and maybe he's not ready for you to, but he's still a part of your life, isn't he?

So he gets bolder. He doesn't want to scare you, not really. But he can't help but dig his nails into the parts of your life he can change. It starts simple, innocent. You were annoyed when you left your kitchen, out of sugar, just another thing on top of everything else you have to deal with.

And he wanted to help. Like he used to. It was easy to get a bag of sugar, even easier to sneak into your kitchen. He leaves just enough for a few days, just enough to get you through the week, enough that you'll think you misremembered how much was left.

And he should have left it at that. But he's never been good at doing things halfway, especially when it comes to you. So he fixes your apartment up while you're at work. Makes sure your window doesn't squeak, your shower doesn't rattle, your oven actually heats up. All things he's heard you try to get your landlord to fix.

He makes a note to give your landlord a visit as he's looping the footage in your cameras over, effectively erasing any evidence of who he is.

Honestly, he's proud of you for finally doing something about him, it's just a shame he has the skills to outmatch your attempts to figure out his identity. Not that any pictures of him would do any good. He's still nameless in Gotham as the Arkham Knight, and if he's not wearing a mask while he's easily picking the new lock on your apartment window, his hood and ballcap do the job of hiding his face just as well.

He thinks he could let it go on like this forever, just doing things for you in the shadows, never revealing himself. At least until he's routinely following you home from work one night, and he sees you get tugged into a dark, lonely alley. He recognizes the man that hauls you off the faux safety of the streets, the one that's lifting a shaky hand and a gun to wave it, demanding your possessions.

Murphy is a nobody in Gotham, just another gambling addicted alcoholic that takes work from whatever rouge is paying the most that week. Jason more or less only recognizes him because he lives on the third floor of your apartment building, but it's clear you don't know who the man snatching your things is.

The Arkham Knight resigns himself to stealing your wallet and phone back after you've gotten home, to keep himself out of your sights for as long as he can. That was the plan.

But there's a flicker in Murphy's eyes, a consideration– a passing thought that Jason can't ignore, one he's seen a million times. Maybe it's the idea that he could get more from you, or maybe he's realizing you've seen his face and wants to get rid of any witnesses, whatever it is, Jason isn't going to let it happen.

The Arkham Knight doesn't hesitate to drop himself between you and the gun. He breaks Murphy's arm without even thinking about it, effectively disarming him as he kicks the gun away from him. The sound of his bones breaking is loud, but Jason doesn't register it as something to be sickened by until he turns and sees the nausea and horror written plainly on your face.

Honestly, maybe he should be more disgusted with himself. He's just sent a man into shock, revealed himself to you in a way that's not at all comforting. But he doesn't care. No one was going to save you. No one but him. He protected you, and it's not like Bruce Batman– it's not like broken bones are uncommon in Gotham.

You take a step back. He steps towards you, drawn to you. He can't help it. He shouldn't. But his head is spinning, and he hasn't been this close to you since before the asylum. You look tired, older, but no less beautiful than he remembers.

"Who are you? What do you want," You snap at him.

Jason wants to praise you for your bravery, as fake as it is. It's a good tactic, to try and get him talking. He doesn't understand why you look so uneasy of him, though. He got you out of a bad situation, even if he's wearing military-grade armor and a mask that glows in the darkness of the alley, shouldn't you feel grateful? Safe? Happy?

He tilts his head, trying to read you. Would you feel better if he offered to walk you home? "I saved you," he tries, the modulator making his voice sound flatter than he intends to. The Arkham Knight silently curses himself. He should just leave. Should have shot your attacker from the roof without you ever seeing him. He's being emotional now, irrational under your gaze.

"You've been following me. You're the one who's been in my apartment," you accuse, eyes darting like you're trying to find an escape in the dead end alley.

He stiffens. Huh. Clever thing. You've always been too smart for your own good. A part of him wants to deny it, pretend he's just some passing good doer in a mask, pretend that he's some kind of knight, an angel here to shield you from harm.

The notion almost makes him laugh, "Have I," he prompts instead with all the air nonchalance. He wonders if you'll drop it then, actually thank him for stepping in and helping you. You don't.

"Yes," You say instead, voice low like it's a secret– a confession, "You have."

Jason finds himself impressed at your stubbornness, if not a little unnerved by your recklessness in confronting the supposed stranger you believe is breaking into your home alone. He has to give you credit for piecing it together, but who else, if not a freak in body armor, would be letting themselves into your apartment without a word just to fix what's broken?

He nods, unsure of what to do. You weren't supposed to figure it out, but you have. And now there's consequences.

The Arkham Knight turns his back to you, making a show of gathering your phone and wallet before standing and facing you again. He walks closer to you, each step measured and calculated. He holds your belongings out to you, a twisted, mirrored version of some kind of sacred offering.

He studies you as you grab at them, trying to tug them from his unyielding grip. There's bags under your eyes. He can practically see your pulse jumping under your skin.

You're less than a foot away, and Jason basks in that distance, how light he feels now that you're only an arm's reach away. He could brush his knuckles over your cheek, dip his head to take in the scent of your hair, kiss the hollow of your throat the same way he used to.

He does none of those things. Because you don't see Jason Todd. You only see a threat, a monster, some kind of demon that clawed their way out of the shadows and cracks that litter Gothams hallowed corners.

He cocks his head, letting go of your wallet and phone while greedily drinking down the color of your eyes in the dim light of the alley, "And if I have?"

"I'll go to the police," You tell him, defensive, and he wants to laugh as you shove your wallet and phone back into your pocket.

"They can't help you," he grits out, and it's the truth. No one knows who he is yet, what his plans are. Even if you told someone, whatever description you give won't be enough to find him.

"They can contact Batman," you bite out, and that does earn you a laugh. You really think Bruce can do anything? That Batman has any chance of standing between him and you? Batman couldn't even find– couldn't even save–

"He can't help you either," The Arkham Knight tells you. He gives into his desire to touch you then, partly in anger that you still believe in Batman and partly because he just misses you. He pats your cheek, but doesn't let himself linger. "Get home," is all he says before he grapples into the night.

He follows you back to your apartment from the rooftops and notes how you avoid getting too close to any more alleys. But, it's not until you're safe in your bed that he goes looking for Murphy– that he goes to finish the job.

The creep's nursing his broken arm in his dingy apartment when The Arkham Knight gets to him. He doesn't make it quick, but it is quiet. (It's difficult to scream when you're choking on your own severed tongue, after all) He brings down fire and fury and vengeance for daring to lay a hand on you and leaves nothing behind but a corpse.

Murphy's brutal death is swept under the rug by the GCPD, which Jason shouldn't be surprised by. Just another mob death, the tiny obituary in the paper reports. You don't even register the death in your apartment building. He doesn't blame you for that. Not when he knows he's scaring you.

He's getting careless, sloppy. He wants you to catch glimpses of him now, he wants you to know he's watching. It's sick. He knows that, knows it so well that it claws in the back of his throat when he breaks into your apartment to fix your fan.

He's guilty about it, sometimes. It's a pressing weight on his shoulder even when he's trying to help. So, he redoubles his efforts.

He sneaks into your room and stuffs six hundred dollars into the emergency fund you keep under your bed. He sends you flowers, fills your gas tank, finally visits your landlord, and pays off your rent for the next six months. (He's already bought you a better, newer apartment, he just hasn't figured out how to tell you that)

He knows it's all wrong, but sometimes, he doesn't feel guilty at all. He wants to do things for you, that's not a lie. He wants to do everything and anything you could ever want or ask for.

He starts letting you catch flashes of him outside your window, moves your things around just out of the sheer curiosity of what you'll do. He can't justify that, because it does nothing to protect you. But he does it anyway. The Arkham Knight needs you to know he holds a spot in your life, even if it's not as Jason Todd anymore.

He's getting bolder, much too comfortable. There's times you almost walk into your apartment as he's leaving gifts on your counter, times when you wake up and walk into your kitchen just seconds after he forces himself out your window.

He's going to get caught if it keeps going on like this. But he can't bring himself to worry or care. His plans are coming together, and while he doesn't exactly know where you fit into them yet, he knows he doesn't trust anything or anyone enough to leave you to your own devices once he unleashes his legions upon Gotham and her failure of a saviour.

He never seems to do the right thing when it comes to you, at least not since he came back. But saving you– guarding you against the vile filth of the world– that can't be wrong. He'd do anything to keep you as you are, untouched by all the cruelties Gotham has to offer. It's an unwavering, righteous mission he has commanded unto himself.

It's why he reacts the way he does when three men break into your apartment.

He was late. He always seems to be late when you're involved. He had just finished overseeing the arrival of tanks and men into Miagani Tunnel, just dragged himself halfway across the city for the slightest chance to catch a glimpse of you in your apartment, when he catches sight of it.

Your window– open. You never keep it open. Dread washes down his spine, and when he gets close enough to see the man pointing a gun towards the floor– towards you– he just reacts.

He shuts down, becomes nothing but instinct, and he brings hell on to Earth in your name.

He's clinical. He doesn't hesitate to shoot the man aiming a gun to your head through his temple. If the man were alone, he would have shot the gun out of his hand, but there's two other targets, and he needs to eliminate any threats to your life first.

He climbs through your window with the ease of a man who's done it hundreds– thousands of times. You haven't moved to get up. It concerns him, but he's angry right now, so, so angry he doesn't even consider ending this quickly.

Everyone tries to take something from him. He keeps losing. If he didn't come to watch– see you tonight, he would have lost you too. The very thought makes his vision blur red, his ears ring.

It's not a fight, what happens next. It's a death penalty. The Arkham Knight is a weapon, and he proves it with each hit. He's efficient, brutal, and purposeful with each movement. He doesn't flinch at the blood that splatters on his armor, doesn't stop even when fluids and flesh start to stick to the knuckles of his gloves.

He doesn't stop, doesn't slow, until the only hearts left beating in your desecrated apartment are his and yours.

Then, and only then, does the blood pounding through his veins start to cool. It's only then, does he turn to look at you. He expects to meet your terrified gaze, but you haven't moved, still laying on the floor. It makes his heart clench. What's wrong with him? He just– while you–

He shakes his head, slowly tugging his gloves off and stuffing them into his belt. He walks over to you, kneels carefully to your side, and watches you breathe. He matches the slow rhythm of your shoulders rising and falling, and then he helps you sit up.

You're responsive to that, at least. The Arkham Knight presses his hands to your face, waiting for something. He doesn't know what, just anything. Some kind of sign. A message of what he's supposed to do. How he can make this all better.

When you finally open your eyes, they're hazy, not quite reactive. It makes him angry all over again. You got hurt. He wasn't here.

"Saved me again," you murmur, and his throat tightens. He failed you. Yet here you are, spouting words that make it sound like he's done something good.

He runs his thumb over your cheek, savoring the feel of your skin, soothing himself and you as he reassures himself that you're still here– still alive. But you aren't safe.

It's all he can think about. He saved you, but how long until you're in danger again? What if he's not quick enough this time? What if he's not there? What if– what if– haunts him. It weighs heavier than the nightmares that plague him when he finally has to succumb to sleep.

He makes the decision then and there to take you away from here, away from the rot and the fester to some place where it can never touch you again.

He picks you up, cradles you to his chest like you're made of shattered, stained glass and tarnishing silver, but nonetheless precious. You're talking, and he's answering, but he hardly registers what either of you are saying. His mind is working over plans, where he's going to take you, the guards he'll need to recruit to watch over you when he can't, which ones he trusts the most.

Jason only tunes back in when you point out that he could hurt you. It's funny, in a way. After everything he used to be to you, after everything he's done for you, he could still hurt you. He tips his head down to really look at you, the cloudy, exhausted look on your face, the heaviness of your eyes as you struggle to keep watching him.

He can't find it in himself to lie, so, he tells you, maybe he could hurt you. He tells you that he wouldn't like it. (And it's the truth)

Maybe you recognize that, because you drop your head to his shoulder and let your eyes fall shut. The Arkham Knight never wavers in his steps, mapping the path to the apartment he'd purchased in your name in his head. It's not perfect, not filled with everything you deserve quite yet, but it'll do the job for now.

Something in him simultaneously softens and hardens when your breathing goes even and slow against him, and he curls his fingers tighter into your skin. You're weak. Weaker than him. Too naive and too soft for what's going to come.

There's no other fate for you than this now. He'll have to take care of you, protect you from it all, from all the evil that festers in Gotham, even if that includes him.

He lets the mission engrave itself into his heart– into the fabric of his very soul and right next to his revenge. You're going to be safe. He is going to keep you safe, and he'll throw himself into fire to see it done.

[p0orbaby]

A Tide of Tender Mercies

summary: oh, no, i think i’m in love with you

warning: SMUT 18+, oral, fingering (alexia receiving), some angst, reader being stubborn af

a/n: thank you to @muffinpink02 for helping navigate the sexy part ! also i’ve deffo repeated some bits but i cannot for the life of me be bothered to sort it out

word count: 7k

part 1

-

The chalet is…well, perfect. It’s the kind of perfect that only comes from meticulous planning, obsessive list-making, and a kind of restrained indulgence that most people would never understand. Set high above a tiny Swiss village known for its fondue and twenty-something millionaires, it sits against a backdrop of mountains sharp enough to slice the clouds. The exterior is severe, almost aggressively minimalistic: crisp white stucco, blackened wood shutters, and glass doors that could double as showroom installations. The effect is daunting, beautiful, and—if you’re being honest—a bit over-the-top. You chose it, naturally, because it’s the type of place where “just a fling” can occur without a single hint of domesticity.

Inside, everything is pristine, hand-selected, curated to within an inch of its life. You were adamant that the linens be Egyptian cotton, but not the gaudy kind; they’re 800-thread count, light enough to seem insubstantial but woven to feel solid, unyielding. They’re arranged in clinical folds on the bed, starched and pressed in a way that suggests they’re almost afraid to be touched. You’ll mess them up later, but for now, they’re an artwork of restraint.

And then there are the wines, selected with the sort of care that would make a sommelier weep. It’s silly, of course—Alexia doesn’t normally drink during the season, so she will hardly glance at the labels, but you’ve assembled an array that hints at depth nonetheless. An entire wall of Swiss Chasselas, a few rare vintages from Bordeaux, and an stupidly expensive pinot noir that tastes like dirt but cost enough to suggest you know what you’re doing. The idea is that if she gives in to something sophisticated, she’ll find it here. If she doesn’t, you’ll find her something else. Something that says you’ve thought of everything. Which, of course, you have.

The whole thing has a sort of perverse charm, really, how every detail has been obsessively pre-arranged to ensure that she knows you’re not in this for anything serious. And yet, here you are, flying her across Europe to the kind of setting people book for anniversaries and life-altering proposals.

There’s a sort of humour in it, if you’re willing to look. You even laugh to yourself, laying out the spa towels in the bathroom—too thick, too plush, a little too “I love you”—knowing full well she won’t notice them. She’ll think of them as “towels,” and if she does notice, it’ll be because she needs a new one. But that’s fine. It’s all part of the performance, all part of the thing you’ve constructed around this chalet, around her arrival, around the notion that this is—what? Casual? Fun? Whatever word fits it neatly enough to deny what you’re feeling.

And then there are the candles. Oh, God, the candles. You tried to keep them simple, restrained, the kind of scents that evoke a distant memory rather than a specific moment. Sandalwood, bergamot, a flicker of pine; nothing too floral, nothing that says “romance,” but hints of something just familiar enough to feel safe. You even toyed with the idea of an unscented option, just in case the pine felt too… suggestive. It’s ridiculous, but you’ve learned to lean into it, to control it, to package it neatly. If it’s planned, then it’s deliberate, and if it’s deliberate, then it’s just for fun.

“Why all this?” you imagine her saying, eyebrows raised, maybe laughing as she notices the excessive stock of Swiss chocolates in the cabinet. You have them lined up in neat rows, the artisan kind—no corner-shop Toblerone here—and each one is individually wrapped in foil that gleams in the dim kitchen light. You picture her rolling her eyes at the small mountain of truffle boxes, asking if you’ve stocked up for a wedding. And you, of course, would shrug it off, offering some deadpan line about Swiss tourism. Or a joke about Swiss efficiency. Or something suitably bland that keeps the tone right where you want it—on the edge of humour, a step away from real. You’ve prepared for every reaction, really. Which is pointless, because she hasn’t even arrived yet.

It’s the first time she’s been here. The place is new, purchased after a very well-timed therapy session that conveniently rebranded “self-indulgence” as “self-care.” The therapist’s exact words were “If you want to be your best self, find the spaces that let you breathe.” And you took that literally, flying up here for private viewings until this place caught your eye. Well, maybe not your eye. But it was one of those rare places that looked exactly like the pictures, maybe better, and it had the kind of aesthetic that screams “I need nothing from you” while begging for a sense of purpose. You bought it almost instantly.

And now, after weeks of fine-tuning, she’ll be here soon. You catch yourself arranging the books on the side table, pausing over which titles to leave out—a mix of philosophy and modern fiction that says “I read but don’t take it too seriously.” You laugh to yourself at the pretension of it, yet you leave the carefully selected titles exactly as they are.

It’s silly, really, because the goal here is detachment, the freedom to keep things light and uncomplicated. You tell yourself that as you straighten the pillows on the sofa for the second time, catching your own eye in the polished mirror that hangs in the foyer.

“You’re being weird,” you say out loud, imagining her walking in, that quick smile flashing, eyebrows raised in a way that says, “Is this all for me?” You picture her laughing, maybe rolling those pretty green eyes of hers. But you have an answer for that too, prepared in advance, a casual shrug.

“Just a little atmosphere,” you’ll say, as if it’s nothing.

You check your watch. Thirty-two minutes until Alexia arrives. Thirty-two minutes to double-check that every single minutely considered, utterly detached detail says, I couldn’t care less—or, more precisely, I care in exactly the right amount of less. Because she needs to know that this is nothing. That this trip to an over-the-top chalet overlooking a town mostly inhabited by 19-year-olds in cashmere is simply an exercise in relaxation, togetherness, a concept you’re fairly sure you’re allergic to.

She doesn’t know it yet, but you bought the place partly to show her. Partly to remind her, subtly, that she could disappear tomorrow and you’d still have this. Because that’s the problem with Alexia, isn’t it? She’s not really yours. She’s something you can enjoy, display even, but never own. The complete opposite of the real estate you’ve added to your collection. You stand there, glass in hand, the Lagavulin you’ve graciously poured yourself warming your fingers through the crystal, staring out at the Alps with the vague thought that an obscene number of people have had their ashes scattered here, somewhere along this ridgeline. It’s an unsettling idea you rather enjoy.

She texts, something about a delay on the tarmac, and you stare at the message for a beat too long, analysing the exact wording like you’re looking for hidden subtext. As if there could be subtext in the word “delayed.”

A casual fling, you remind yourself, should never be complicated by subtext.

To pass the time, you scan the kitchen once again. The coffee is fresh-ground, of course, from a bag that cost as much as an entire year’s supply from anywhere normal. It’s pre-portioned in tiny glass canisters your assistant found online that look like vintage apothecary jars. The labels are printed in Helvetica Neue because you once read that it’s a ‘subtly superior’ font. Ridiculous. But also, it’s perfect. There’s also a miniature mountain of imported Spanish oranges on the counter, carefully arranged in a hammered copper bowl you don’t remember buying. You could make mimosas, you think, if you didn’t know she’ll insist on starting with a protein shake instead.

You put a bottle of Alpine mineral water in the fridge just for her, chilled to the exact 4.4°C she prefers. Yes, it’s an oddly specific temperature preference. No, she didn’t tell you directly. You overheard her mention it once, offhand, to someone else. Which is exactly why you’re bound to a polite indifference if she asks why it’s there. It’s simply what the fridge was set to. Nothing personal.

Just the thought of her walking in has you adjusting your posture as if she’s already watching. Alexia doesn’t miss a single detail. Once, she commented on the way you have a tendency to pull your sleeves over your hands. You haven’t done it since. Now, you check that every piece of clothing you’ve chosen is deliberately, carelessly oversized—but only to the point that still reads as flattering.

Then, at last, you hear the crunch of tyres on gravel. You scurry to watch from the window as she steps out of the car you sent, and she’s immediately caught in that glacial alpine light, her features so stark and defined that it’s almost cinematic. There’s a sharp thrill—one you won’t admit to yourself—in seeing her here, framed against this scene like she’s the final piece in some high-budget film. The coat she’s wearing is slightly too large, lending her a relaxed, indifferent air, as if she’d picked up the first thing she saw on her way out the door. Effortless, in that way that would feel studied on anyone else.

You stand back from the window just before she glances up, retreating into the comfort of shadows. Timing is everything. You’ve thought this through, down to each calculated second. It’s critical, after all, that she finds you not watching, but instead lingering at a perfect remove, preferably with a slight air of distraction. You’re aiming for a kind of aloofness, as if her arrival is the least interesting event of the day.

She’s about to ring the bell when you move, deliberately slow, to the door, letting it swing open just as she raises her hand. There’s a brief, barely perceptible pause as her eyes meet yours, a spark of something unspoken passing between you both before she raises an eyebrow, a look that hovers between amusement and challenge.

“Missed me?” she asks, dryly, though there’s a glint in her eye that suggests she’s perfectly aware of what she’s doing. She’s close now, close enough that you can catch the faintest whiff of her perfume, something dark and woody and just the right side of familiar.

You tilt your head, giving her a slow once-over, and shrug. “Not especially,” you say, voice low, careful to keep the tone perfectly flat. But you let your gaze linger just a second too long on her collarbone, barely visible where her coat has slipped slightly, enough to make her catch it, her mouth curling up at the edge. It’s a deliberate game, one you’ve both played a hundred times, each move rehearsed, practised to the point of art.

She’s barely through the door when you feel it—that unmistakable tension, thickening the air between you. It’s almost tangible, a static hum just beneath the surface of polite conversation, something that pulls at you like gravity. The moment feels precarious, balanced on the edge of something you’re not quite willing to name, because if you wait too long, the feeling will settle into something more familiar. Something too close to comfort, which is the last thing you want.

She doesn’t seem to notice it, of course, her mind likely on dinner plans or the slow crawl of the evening. You, however, are already teetering at the edge of patience, every nerve just slightly too aware of her. She walks in, drops her bag by the door with a casual grace that feels almost too natural, like she’s done this a hundred times, like she could do this forever if you asked her to. And you wonder if you’d even want that—something so predictably domestic, the quiet comfort of a routine. No. You want her in ways that defy that kind of simplicity, in a way that doesn’t ask permission.

You watch her from the corner of your eye as she takes in the room. Her eyes linger on the minimal, curated details you agonised over: the leather-bound books you never plan to read, the art on the walls meant to suggest a taste for something more sophisticated than it is. She’s oblivious, seemingly caught up in the novelty of the place, and that’s exactly what you intended. She can’t know how meticulously you set the scene, how every pillow and chair is positioned with an almost obsessive precision. All she has to do is be here. You’ll take care of the rest.

There’s a slow, unhurried quality to her movements, an ease that’s infuriating because it’s so at odds with the pulse of urgency rising in you. She wanders over to the fireplace, running her hand along the mantel with a soft, idle curiosity. Her fingers trace over the edge of a photograph you don’t remember putting there, something abstract and distant, chosen for the way it says absolutely nothing about you. It’s maddening, really, the way she lingers in the space, claiming it without meaning to, as if her very presence could overwrite the hours you spent constructing it.

“You’ve really outdone yourself,” she says, her voice light, unaware of the way it cuts through the silence with a sharpness that’s almost physical. There’s a half-smile on her face, something unreadable that you can’t quite shake off.

You shrug, adopting an air of disinterest you’ve perfected over the years. “Thought you’d appreciate the change of scenery”

She raises an eyebrow, still oblivious, her focus now on the bust of Venus of Arles by the window. For a second, you want to laugh at the madness of it, how she’s here, right in front of you, while you’re clawing at the edges of your own restraint.

But she’s still gazing around, her fingers brushing the edge of a table as if she has all the time in the world. As if she doesn’t know what you’re holding back. You take a slow breath, exhale, feel the tension coil tighter inside, and think that if you let this linger for even another second, you’ll start to resent the calmness of it, the quiet rhythm that feels too much like waiting. Like settling into something you’re not prepared to face.

“Wine?” You ask in a futile attempt to keep things just this side of civilised. The offer hangs in the air, a thin layer of normalcy that feels like it could snap at any moment, but she only nods, glancing over with a slight smile, one corner of her mouth lifting in that way that’s halfway between polite interest and something more.

“Sure,” she says, her voice smooth, without a hint of awareness. “You pick”

You turn to the wine rack with an exaggerated casualness, scanning bottles you chose with this exact moment in mind. You could explain the notes of every vintage, how each one was picked not because it pairs with any particular food—because let’s face it, dinner’s not exactly on your mind—but because it suggests a kind of sophistication, a subtlety. You choose a bottle of red, something full-bodied and just slightly bitter, almost as if in silent commentary on the situation. You pour, slowly, setting the glass down in front of her with a kind of precision that’s both reverent and clinical. She reaches for it, her fingers grazing the stem, the gesture infuriatingly graceful.

The first sip seems to surprise her. “Good choice,” she murmurs, eyes meeting yours over the rim of the glass.

The silence stretches on just a moment too long, the air thick with something that isn’t quite tension, more like a coiled spring just waiting for one of you to press down. You feel it building as she shifts, glancing around the room, and suddenly, you realise she’s working up to something. There’s a certain deliberateness in the way she moves, a careful consideration in her stare, and you know—know—she didn’t come all this way just to admire the decor.

“Look,” she starts, her voice softer than usual, carrying a weight that tells you she’s not talking about the view. “I’ve been thinking—”

But you can’t—won’t—let her finish. Not when you know exactly what she’s about to say. You cut her off, leaning forward, your tone light, easy, deliberately dismissive. “Please don’t tell me you came all the way here just to talk, Alexia”

She freezes, mid-sentence, and there’s a flash of something in her eyes, a blend of surprise and—annoyance, maybe? But she masks it quickly, her lips pressing into a tight line. “I thought you’d appreciate me being… honest,” she says slowly, as though testing the waters, watching you carefully.

“Honest? That’s what we’re calling it?” You let a smirk tug at the corner of your mouth, a practiced expression, something designed to be just detached enough to hold everything at arm’s length. “Come on, we’re better than that, aren’t we?”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your deflection, but there’s still a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Better than what? Talking?”

Talking. The word hangs in the air, innocent, innocuous, yet loaded in a way that feels heavier than it has any right to. You shift, taking another sip of wine, letting the liquid burn down, hoping it’ll smother the way her eyes feel like they're peeling away all your practiced layers. It’s one thing to enjoy someone’s company, but the feeling creeping in now is something else, something you’re not used to. It feels inconvenient. Like an itch you can’t reach.

You try to fire back, something witty, something cool, but the words catch in your throat, your mind scraping empty. It’s frustrating, the way she’s caught you off guard, how she’s unraveled your carefully crafted reserve without even trying. You reach for your glass again, swirling the wine, stalling for time, anything to avoid that knowing look in her eyes.

But then it dawns on you, like a spark catching flame—there’s still one thing left to do to regain control. Something you can do that would put you back in charge, bring this uncomfortable vulnerability back into something physical, where you excel. You set your glass down, slowly, purposefully, letting the silence stretch taut between you both.

She watches you with that smirk, that trace of challenge, as if daring you to break this moment of stillness.

“Come here,” you say, low and steady, injecting just enough command to leave no room for debate.

“No”

She says it so simply, so carelessly, that for a moment you’re almost convinced you misheard her. It’s infuriating, really, that one little word has the power to throw you so entirely. Your pulse stumbles, and you feel the ground slipping from under you, just enough to catch you off guard.

“Alexia.” You give her a look that’s intended to be definitive, final, but it lands with all the power of a weak threat. Her smirk widens into a full, infuriating smile, the one that says she’s entirely aware of the effect she’s having on you.

“Just hear me out,” she says, with a kind of softness that’s more unnerving than you’d like. “You’re doing that thing. The thing where you turn everything into—” She pauses, gesturing vaguely with her hand, searching for the right word, “—into some kind of performance”

It’s an odd, unnerving feeling, this loss of footing. Normally, you’d have a witty reply ready, something cutting or clever, but instead, you feel like she’s stripped you bare, left you standing there with nothing but honesty, and you hate it.

“So now you’re the expert?” you reply, finally finding your voice, though it sounds sharper than you meant. “Since when do you—”

“Since I started actually falling for you,” she says, cutting you off, her voice low but clear. It’s not even particularly dramatic, the way she says it, and somehow that’s worse. Like she’s not trying to turn it into anything, not expecting any kind of reaction—just stating it as a fact.

You feel a flush rise to your face, and you mask it with another sip of wine, a hasty attempt to cover up the sudden jolt in your chest. She waits, just watches you with that maddening calm, as if giving you all the time in the world to come up with some kind of response.

The air between you feels thick, heavy with something unsaid and unfamiliar. You feel the urge to laugh, to make light of it, anything to disperse this feeling building between you, something dangerously close to vulnerability.

“You don’t have to make this into… whatever this is,” you say, gesturing between you. “Let’s not get sentimental”

“I’m not,” she says, crossing her arms, looking impossibly patient. “I told you I’m just trying to be honest. I thought that was allowed”

“Honest,” you repeat, as though the word itself is foreign. And maybe it is. Honesty has never been the thing you reach for. Honesty is for people who can afford to look foolish, who don’t mind slipping, stumbling a little. Honesty is… unnecessary. And maybe that’s exactly why it’s got you so rattled now.

You set your glass down, more forcefully than intended, and close the distance between you with a deliberate slowness, a silence that says everything you aren’t willing to say out loud. She watches you, unmoving, waiting, that infuriating patience of hers still intact.

“Fine,” you murmur, leaning in close, your voice barely above a whisper. “If youre falling for me, fucking show me”

Her lips quirk in the barest hint of a smile, a flicker of amusement mixed with something warmer, something that makes you feel like you’re the one being dissected here. It’s maddening, really, how effortlessly she manages to get under your skin, slip past all those careful layers. And yet you’re already reaching for her, pulling her closer, desperate to change the pace, to turn this moment into something you can control.

There’s a split second where neither of you move, holding the charged silence like it might be the only thread of control left. And then it snaps. You reach for her, not gently, fingers curling around her wrist with enough force that she has no choice but to be pulled in. Her smirk flickers, only slightly, and there’s something about the momentary surprise in her eyes that makes your grip tighten further, anchoring yourself as much as her. It’s a flash of vulnerability that vanishes as quickly as it appears, leaving behind nothing but a thin layer of bravado, one you’re keen to shatter.

You pull her toward you, and the air shifts, that faint hint of uncertainty cracking into something far messier. Your hand finds its way to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair with a kind of reckless precision, not even aware of how tightly you’re holding on. You don’t waste time; you’re not even sure there’s time to waste. And as soon as you lean in, catching her mouth with a kiss that’s anything but tentative, you feel her resistance melt, her lips parting under yours with a roughness that’s almost defiant.

She meets you with equal force, as if each clash of mouths, each bruising press of skin, is a way to gain back her own control, and you revel in it, the give-and-take that feels as calculated as it is chaotic. Your hand slips to her jaw, holding her there, your thumb brushing over the corner of her mouth with a kind of ferocity that toes the line between possessive and desperate. You know it’s not going to be gentle; there’s a part of you that doesn’t want it to be.

You’re moving backwards, feeling the edge of the marble island press into your spine, but it doesn’t matter. She’s everywhere, her hands gripping the fabric of your shirt, blunt nails scraping against your skin as if she’s staking a claim, as if she’s finally caught on to the pace you’ve been trying to set and decided to match it.

“Is this what you wanted?” Her words slip out like a slow, deliberate knife cutting through the air between you. The tone, sharp, unfamiliar, though has been the soundtrack to your late-night thoughts. It’s almost as if she knows, like she’s caught you in the act of something that’s always been just below the surface. Her breath comes in shallow gasps, eyes darting between your face and the space between you two, as if trying to read the faintest tremor in your expression. It’s always a game with her, always a step too far.

Yes.

“No,” you manage, your voice betraying you—cracked, thin, like a lie too rehearsed. The words come out wrong, but they come out anyway, forced through a tightening chest.

The moment stretches, each second fracturing, bending and folding into itself. It’s like trying to hold a conversation with a shadow—everything slips just out of reach, and the harder you try to grasp it, the more it seems to twist away, leaving nothing but the sensation of your own breath hitching in your throat. You fucking hate this. You hate the way her fingers curl in the fabric of your shirt, as if trying to remind you of your place, of the expectations that have always followed you both like a silent, mocking echo.

No, you don’t hate her.

Fuck. You love her.

The thought is an ugly, dissonant thing, a weight that doesn’t settle easily, like a slow-moving tide pulling you under. The water’s cold. You can’t feel the bottom. You don’t know which way is up, and the only thing you do know is that, somewhere along the line, you’ve let yourself drown.

Your pulse is almost deafening in your ears, hammering in time with your desperate need for air. There’s something about the way she stands before you—still and deliberate, eyes trained on yours—that makes the room feel smaller, closer. You think you can hear her thoughts. Feel them. It’s maddening, how much she seems to know you, how she’s always known the way you bend. How much she’s learned to manipulate that bend, until you almost forget what it’s like to be anything but this: a response.

You swallow. The taste of her is lingering on your lips, sweet and bitter all at once, like a bad memory. How many times has this happened? You don’t know anymore. The last time feels as far away as the first time—when she leaned in, the weight of her body an invisible promise. But tonight, there’s something different. It’s in the way she watches you, cold, calculating, her fingers still gripping the edges of your shirt, the only real connection between you two in the moment.

She inhales slowly, the rhythm deliberate, like she’s listening to a song you can’t hear. The silence is suffocating.

“You’re lying,” she says, low and accusing, with just enough venom to make you flinch. There’s a tiny smile that tugs at the corner of her mouth, something fleeting, something knowing. You want to reach out, to take her in your hands and pull her close, but the distance between you both feels like a universe. The space feels like a reflection of everything that’s wrong with you: the empty conversations, the meaningless gestures, the ache that’s always there, just beneath the skin. It’s maddening, this tension.

And yet…

You want her. Fuck, you need her. You don’t know if it’s because you love her or because she knows how to make you feel more alive than anything else. She’s become your addiction, your fire, the only thing you can’t quit.

Another shift in the air. Another breath from her, shallow and calculated. It’s not a question anymore, not a challenge—it’s an affirmation. She knows, and you know, too.

You close your eyes for a moment, just long enough to lose yourself in the fleeting memory of something that almost felt like peace. The sound of her voice, the taste of her, the way she touched you. It’s all a blur, a disjointed collection of moments tied together by one inescapable truth: you’ll never be able to walk away.

Not this time.

When your eyes open again, she’s still standing there, eyes not leaving yours, studying you. Everything feels slowed down, almost too slow. Like time is bending around her, twisting the seconds into something thick, sticky. Her gaze doesn’t soften, but it holds you in place, an anchor, a force. The room is silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the background, the dull tap of your own pulse in your ears.

You don’t speak. Not yet. You don’t need to.

Her fingers slide along your chest, trailing down in that same slow, infuriating pace, until they settle on the edge of your shirt again, the same place they started. She doesn’t look away, her lips curving upward in a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

It’s like she’s trying to decide whether you want to hurt her or fuck her. And the problem is, you’re not sure you can tell the difference anymore.

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms like that might keep you steady, like that might stop you from doing the one thing you swore you wouldn’t.

Loving something. Someone. Loving Alexia.

“What are you so afraid of?” she murmurs, her voice low, almost gentle, and it’s the softness of it that makes you unravel completely.

You don’t think—you can’t. One second you’re standing there trying to convince yourself you still have your palms wrapped around this situation, and the next they’re on her, pulling her in with a force that’s almost cruel. Your mouth finds hers, hard and unrelenting, and she gasps into the kiss, her fingers clutching at your shirt, wrinkling the silk, as if you might disappear if she doesn’t hold on.

She tastes like spearmint gum and coffee. You imagine her shivering as she steps off the plane, teeth chattering in the wind, and too polite to mention it. But your driver notices, you pay him to notice, so before her luggage is out of the cargo, a café con leche is being pressed into her gloved hands.

It’s not a kiss. Not really. It’s a collision, hard and unrelenting, her mouth crashing into yours with a force that feels like defiance, like she’s daring you to stop pretending. To stop holding yourself together so tightly you’re liable to snap.

Your hands are already on her, pulling her close, so close it feels claustrophobic, but you can’t stop. You can’t make yourself pull away because then you’d have to look at her, really look at her, and confront the unbearable softness in her eyes. You’d have to hear her voice again, saying the one thing you’ve been trying to ignore since she first murmured it like a needle under your skin:

“What are you so afraid of?”

What you’re afraid of is this. Her. The way she’s stripped you bare with no effort at all, no grand gestures or declarations. She’s unravelling you with the weight of her presence, with the simple fact of her being, and you hate it almost as much as you crave it.

Your teeth scrape against her lower lip, harder than you mean to, and she gasps, but she doesn’t pull away. Her nails dig into your shoulders, gripping onto you while you take your rightful place at the helm of this godforsaken dance.

And she’s letting you. Letting you press her against the edge of the table, her legs bumping into the thick, varnished oak. The table was handmade by some artisan you don’t remember the name of, its surface polished to a high gloss that reflects the warm light overhead. You’d spent weeks agonising over the purchase, debating wood grains and finishes with a level of scrutiny that felt absurd even at the time. It’s the kind of thing people like you do when they’re too scared to focus on what matters.

But now it’s just a table. A thing in the way, a thing that’s caught between you and her.

Her jeans catch on the wood as you push her back, and the sound is sharp, cutting through the fog in your head. You hesitate for half a second, your hands hovering at her hips, fingers brushing the cool metal of her belt buckle.

“You’re thinking too much,” she says, her voice low and breathless. It’s not a reproach—it’s almost amused, like she knows exactly what’s going on in your head, and it’s ridiculous to her that you’re trying to wrestle this into something it’s not.

“I’m not thinking at all,” you say, and it’s true. Or it’s a lie. You don’t know anymore, and you don’t care.

The belt comes undone with a soft clink, the leather sliding through the loops of her jeans in one smooth motion. You let it fall to the floor, the sound of it hitting the tile lost beneath the ragged breaths you’re both taking. Your hands are shaking slightly as you undo the button on her jeans, the metal cold against your fingertips.

She doesn’t help you. Doesn’t lift her hips, doesn’t make it easier. She just watches you, her gaze steady and unwavering, like she’s daring you to keep going.

And you do.

You yank the denim down her thighs, your movements jerky, almost frantic, and it’s not until the fabric crumples on the floor that you realise your hands are still trembling. She notices too, her lips twitching into that infuriating half-smile, the one that makes your stomach twist into knots.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice soft but edged with something sharper, something that cuts right through you.

“I don’t know,” you admit, and the honesty of it feels like a blow to the chest.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers, and the words make something inside you snap.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of her underwear, dragging them down her thighs in one swift, unceremonious motion. The damp lace clings for a moment before it slides free, pooling at her knees before hitting the floor. You don’t stop to think. There’s no room for hesitation here, no space for the doubt that’s been clawing at you since this started.

Her scent hits you first, heady and intoxicating, and for a moment you freeze, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of it. But then she moves—just slightly, her hips tilting forward in an unspoken plea—and it’s all the permission you need.

You press your mouth to her, your tongue sliding through her folds with a slow, deliberate pressure that pulls a broken sound from her throat. Her taste is sharp, almost sweet, and it floods your senses in a way that makes you dizzy. Her thighs close around your head instinctively, caging you in, and you let out a low, involuntary groan against her skin.

“Fuck—” Her voice is high and breathy, her fingers digging into your scalp now, hard enough to sting. “Don’t stop. Don’t—”

You don’t. You press deeper, your tongue finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at her centre and circling it with a precision you didn’t know you had. She jerks against you, her body arching off the table, and you use the opportunity to slide your hands up her thighs, holding her steady.

The table creaks beneath her, the sound of the wood groaning under her weight mixing with the wet, obscene noises of your mouth against her. It’s filthy and raw, every sense overwhelmed, and you’re not sure if you’re doing this to prove a point or because you can’t bear to stop. Maybe it’s both.

Her head tilts back, exposing the long, elegant line of her throat, and you want to mark it, to leave evidence of this all over her skin, but you can’t pull away. Not when she’s gasping your name, her voice breaking like she can’t quite believe what’s happening.

You slide a finger into her, slow at first, just enough to make her hips stutter against your mouth. She’s tight, impossibly so, and you feel her clench around you as you add a second finger, curling them just right. Her moan is loud, sharp, and it sends a bolt of heat straight through you.

“God, you—” She doesn’t finish the sentence, doesn’t seem capable of forming words anymore, and it sends a twisted sense of satisfaction through you. You focus on her clit again, your tongue moving in quick, precise circles as your fingers work her open, the slick heat of her making it almost too easy.

Her legs tremble around you, and you can feel her getting closer, her breathing turning shallow and erratic. You don’t let up, don’t give her a second to recover, pressing her higher and higher until she breaks with a cry that sounds like your name.

Her whole body shudders, her thighs clamping tight around your head as she rides out her orgasm, and you keep going, drawing it out as long as you can until she’s pushing weakly at your shoulders.

“Enough,” she gasps, her voice wrecked, and you finally pull back, your lips and chin wet with her.

You look up at her, and she’s a mess—her hair sticking to her damp forehead, her chest heaving with every ragged breath. Her eyes meet yours, dark and unreadable, and for a moment neither of you says anything.

Then, slowly, she reaches for you, her hands shaking as she grabs at your jumper and pulls you up to meet her. Her kiss is rough and desperate, her teeth catching on your lower lip, and you realise she’s not done.

Her hands don’t go for your own clothes like you’d expected. Instead, they move to your thighs, her grip firm and commanding, and before you can comprehend what’s happening, she’s lifting you. The sudden change knocks the air out of your lungs, and you gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around her waist, locking you against her. The motion is seamless, like she’s done this before—or like she’s always known she could.

You try to tell yourself you hate how easy it feels, but you don’t. You can’t.

Your hands find her shoulders, her jaw, her hair—anything to ground yourself, but nothing works. You’re still dizzy, still untethered, even as her lips crash against yours. There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing controlled. Her teeth scrape your bottom lip, her tongue pushes into your mouth like she’s trying to devour you, and you let her because for once you don’t want to think about what comes next.

She’s walking, you realise belatedly, the steady rhythm of her steps making your body rock against hers. It’s disorienting, the way she carries you so easily, like your weight is nothing, like you’re the fragile thing here.

You kiss her harder to prove you’re not, nipping at her lip until she growls low in her throat, a sound that vibrates through you and pulls a small, involuntary moan from your lips. Her hands tighten on you, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, and it sends a sharp thrill up your spine.

The hallway blurs around you, the world narrowing until it’s just her—her mouth on yours, her hands gripping you like she’ll never let go, her body impossibly solid against yours.

When she finally kicks the door open and lays you down on the bed, it feels like surrender. Not hers. Yours.

You don’t realise how tightly you’ve been clinging to her until she pulls back, your fingers still knotted in the collar of her shirt. The fabric wrinkles between your hands, and for a moment you just stare at each other, the room charged with something you don’t have the words to name.

Her eyes are dark, searching, but there’s no smugness, no trace of victory there. Instead, there’s something softer, something that makes your chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with lust.

“I’ve got you,” she murmurs, her voice low and steady, and it undoes you more than anything else she’s done tonight.

It’s too much. The weight of her words, the way she says them like a promise, like she means it. Your chest tightens, and you shake your head, your fingers releasing her collar to press against her shoulders, keeping her at a distance.

But she doesn’t let you push her away completely. Her hands slide up your sides, gentle now, her touch a sharp contrast to the bruising grip she had on you moments ago. She’s watching you, waiting, like she knows exactly what’s going through your head.

You hate her for it. You hate her because she’s right.

“I can’t…” Your voice cracks, barely audible, and you don’t even know what you’re trying to say.

She leans in, her forehead resting against yours, her breath warm against your cheek. “You don’t have to,” she says simply, and the honesty in her tone is unbearable.

You want to argue, to fight, to push her away, but your body doesn’t move. You just lay there, your chest heaving, your hands trembling against her. You feel like you’re teetering on the edge of something vast and unknowable, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not sure if you’ll survive the fall.

Because this isn’t about sex anymore.

It’s about her, and the way she looks at you like you’re something worth holding onto. It’s about the way your body feels like it’s breaking apart under the weight of it, like you’re finally being seen for what you are—what you’ve always been.

A liar. A coward. Someone too afraid to let go, too afraid to feel, too afraid to love.

Her lips brush yours again, soft this time, barely there, and you let out a shaky breath. It’s not enough to drown in. Not yet. But it’s close.

“Let me in,” she whispers, and it’s not a command. It’s an offering.

You close your eyes, and for the first time, you don’t resist.

[pearlymel]

Ooo I know! It's just a little thought

What if capitano and y/n had their first fight in front of their kid?

"I told you I'm fine." You try convincing your ever so worried husband for the nth time.

The thing was, ever since you gave birth to your daughter, it's like he had a leash on you, not in a bad way. Capitano only wants to protect you and his daughter, and knowing his position as the fatui Harbinger, it had become difficult to keep an eye on both of you 24/7. So he trusts that you would tell him everything by the end of the day.

Capitano's protective nature was both endearing and infuriating at times, but you often appreciated his care. Today, however, his overprotective streak was starting to get under your skin.

The argument started as a simple disagreement about a minor decision, but had quickly escalated into a fiercer discussion.

"i want to keep you and our family safe." He said firmly, and he wishes you'd stop there to understand him.

"I only brought her with me to the market so she can learn how to socialize with people, and for her to experience picking treats with me."

"You were fine this time." he retorted, his voice taking on a slightly higher tone. "But what about the next time?"

You grit your teeth together in frustration, because really, this is getting ridiculous. "Maybe if you didn't think so much about it—"

He doesn't even let you finish before he speaks back, "How can I not think about it? Every time you leave this house, every time you're out of my sight, I can't help but worry." He takes a deep breath to calm his nerves, it's rare that he's ever arguing with you, usually when you're upset with eachother, he usually stays quiet.

"You don't understand. My job has shown me the worst of Humanity, the things they're capable of. I just want to keep you safe." Capitano holds on both sides of your arms, "i trust my men enough to accompany you. But i can never be truly sure that you're safe without me." He's upset, you know it by the way his eyebrows wrinkle together.

But you're not convinced just yet, "our daughter wants to go to the park sometimes. Do you know how many times i had to stop myself from refusing her everytime she frowns at me?"

Capitano's expression hardened again at your words, his jaw clenching tightly. "The park is dangerous," he argued back while applying a bit more pressure on your arms, "It's too open, too vulnerable. There are too many unknowns, too much that could potentially harm you and our daughter."

"It's not like we are going to die." You bluntly respond and it makes his eyes widen, even the sentence makes him shiver. He's one and only fear, not seeing you both because of one mistake.

Just as he parted his lips to answer back, a faint sound—a sneeze coming from the corner of the closet. One you recognise so well that it makes you stiffen in your place, and you notice Capitano pressing his lips into a thin line.

You both turn your heads until met by the little girl attempting and failing to hide on the side of the giant closet.

"she's watching," you whisper, glancing back at him and he nods before sliding his hands off you.

"You can come out," he called gently, his voice softer than the previous argument.

He knelt down on one knee as she stepped out from her hiding spot, his eyes wide with innocence and remorse for the argument she had witnessed. "Come here." He encouraged her, his arms opened slightly for her. And she hesitantly walks at first before taking confident steps towards the comfort of her father's embrace.

You join them after, kneeling down at their level and your husband opens his other arm to squeeze you in with them. Capitano's arm wrapped around her small form, holding her close against his chest.

"I'm sorry you saw us arguing," he murmured, "We didn't mean for you to hear all that." You continue softly.

Your daughter's head turned towards you, her eyes filling with tears as she heard your apologies. She looked between you and Capitano, her lower lip trembling slightly. It's like children can mimick their parents current emotions.

"Your mother and I just had a disagreement. We didn't mean to scare you."

"is everything okay?" She whispers quietly while fidgeting with her fingers together, "Yes." You both instantly respond.

her expression is still uncertain. "We promise," you reassured her again before he gives further more reassurance "Everything's okay, angel. Mama and papa are fine. We're not mad at each other. We're just... going to talk things through, okay?"

She then starts slowly nodding, "that's my brave girl." His lips curl upwards as he strokes the strands of her hair.

"and we will take you to the park."

Your daughter's eyes widened, a small gasp of happiness escaping her lips. She looked up at you, her eyes seem to sparkle even.

Meanwhile, Capitano's eyes narrowed at your declaration. He shot you a warning look, silently reminding you of his previous disagreement.

"... With your father of course." You laugh quietly and his shoulders seem to relax, "fine. We will all go."

"yay! Swings!" The little girl grins while excitedly holding her hands together.

"well, aren't you weak for the little angel?" You whisper to your husband, giving him a small smile, already having forgotten about your argument.

Capitano holds you both closer to him, as if relieved to have this little family in his life, the only thing that makes everything more bearable, "she has me wrapped around her little finger, just like her mother."

The link to my short capitano series :p

[fatuismooches]

Dottore and his segments get a taste of their own medicine after giving you a job of your own. (In other words, you ignore their need for attention in favor of your work, they get pouty, just like you did.)

As of late, a peculiar sight had made its way into the lab. Actually, peculiar wasn't even strong enough of a word for the agents to use. They had nearly tripped over their feet once they saw the new area of their working quarters in the lab.

In addition to their Lord Harbinger's desk (that was shared amongst the segments depending on the day), there was now another desk on the opposite side of the room, and the cute decorations on it were quite noticeable. Photo frames and stationery. A comfortable and plush chair with a blanket that dropped over it.

... A plushie version of the Harbinger that laid on Dottore's desk, commissioned by you to motivate him.

(A side thought - the number of desks the Doctor had was something to wonder about. One in the lab, one in the office, one in the bedroom - no wonder things were always scattered around the place. But that was something for another day...)

And most importantly, you, Dottore's spouse, standing next to their Lord, rocking back on your heels nervously as he introduced you as their new co-worker.

—

It all began when you approached your husband with a very simple request.

"Dottie, I want a job!" You said with enthusiasm, smile as wide and proud as ever. The scientist paused his work and turned to look at you with a blank expression.

"... A job, you say?" You only puffed your chest out more at his confirmation.

"Yes, a job. I mean, being your lover is already a lot of work for my poor back, but I want to actually work with you! With your research and stuff, like the old days!" Your excitement was completely serious and were it not for your health, it would have been infectious for the scholar. Rarely did he ever meet anyone who was truly interested in his work. But of course, certain restrictions have held you back for a long time now.

"We've already been over this. My work is too dangerous for you," the Doctor sighed as he turned back around to continue whatever he was doing.

"I know, I know, but I meant other kinds of stuff. I've been thinking like... a desk job! It doesn't have to be anything dangerous! I could... sort papers for you? Oh, and you have one of those fancy stamps, right? I could stamp them too! I could rewrite your notes... ah, and the best part - I could help you write reports too! You always liked my essays, didn't you?" You were doing your best to provide Dottore with a convincing case, snuggling up against his firm back. Only another sigh escaped your husband, not really that convinced.

"Come on..." you inhaled his familiar scent, tinged with that laboratory smell that never seemed to go away, but somehow brought comfort to you. "I've been so bored lately... and lonely," you muttered the last part pointedly. "I just want some work to take my mind off things!"

Indeed, there was always limited entertainment and pastimes to occupy yourself with. It was especially boring on days you couldn't get out of bed, or when no segment could afford you attention...

"And you know what, I could give those agents of yours some writing tips, too!"

Yes, there had been many times his employees were not up to his standards, despite how many of them fawned over him (for some odd reason)...

"And I'll be helping you too! It's good for everyone."

Of course, you always felt rather good about yourself if you managed to help him, being the Second Harbinger and all...

"I suppose I shall give it some thought-" Before the man could finish his sentence you started squeezing him tightly while hopping in delight.

"Oh, thank you! So, when do I start? Do I get one of your huge desks too?"

"I didn't say yes yet, darling."

"Shh... we both know what you mean!"

—

And that was how you now clocked in at "work" every day with the agents (later than normal, but you had special privileges.) It was daunting at first for the poor souls, even the ones who secretly admired you from afar (being in the fan club and all.) Even though initially you were merely sorting papers, you were the most important person in that room.

However, soon enough, going to work in this dreary lab became a lot more cheery thanks to your sweet demeanor. Somehow, the atmosphere had become a lot less tense since the last time the segments visited.

The agents had little to no problem speaking to you like a normal person, after you had graciously given them tips on impressing the Harbinger.

"Psst..." you were hovering behind an unsuspecting agent, reading the report she had for Dottore, who jumped at your whisper. "You know, he might click his tongue if you give him that." Although her mask covered her face, you could see that half surprised at how you popped out of nowhere, and half agreeing with your words. Perhaps she felt comfortable enough to spill the situation to you.

"I-I am well aware of that," she deeply sighed, "but no matter what I write, my Lord always seems to be unsatisfied..." You patted her shoulder in sympathy. Having worked with Dottore since the Akademiya days, you knew very well of his distaste for certain things.

"Well, that's why I was hired, friend! To make his and your life easier! See, look here, that's a no-no, he wouldn't appreciate those details, mhm, but this needs to be elaborated on more, uh huh..." Of course, being the good spouse and employee you were, the report was converted into the best one that had ever landed on the Doctor's desk.

On your lunch break, they provided you with some juicy gossip about anything they could get their hands on (the fan club had long reaches, apparently.) Frequently you had to debunk things about Dottore... (the handbook was swiftly revised.)

Needless to say, things seemed to be going well. You looked happier. Motivated. Having new "friends" as your company (that still watched their mouth around you after a single glance from the segments.)

However... an issue arose after a while. One that seemed entirely stupid and impossible.

Now that you were so caught up in your work, when the segments finally had some spare time to come to you, they were... rejected. Yes, they had come to you, fully expecting your devoted attention and kisses that you always gave them without hesitation, but now turned away. (Even more embarrassing, sometimes in front of the agents who kept their eyes glued to their strange chemicals.)

—

It was Omega, of all segments, who was turned away first. The most confident and charming of the bunch left uncharacteristically silent. He had come up behind you and traced his hands against your neck, always being the one who had no shame in touching you. You only softly giggled at the sensation and caught his hand in yours.

"It seems you've been busy for a while, dear." In truth, it was mostly you seeking him out and not vice versa, but the segment hadn't seen you invading his office in a while. The space had gotten too quiet without you.

"Mhm! But I can't imagine how much work you do. My desk is nowhere as cluttered as yours," you smiled as you felt the segment kiss your lashes.

"What do you say to a break with me?" Omega offered, already knowing what your eager response would be.

"Nah, I can't right now."

...

Your words took a few seconds to process through his head.

"Pardon?"

"I have all this work, 'Mega, and other people need my help," you shrugged your shoulders as you swung your legs. "But don't worry. I'm sure we can spend some time later!" You kissed him on the cheek and pulled your chair in before continuing your work.

Omega, the greatest segment, was reduced to a blankly staring man who had been deprived of his lover's attention for the first time.

He was irritable for the rest of the day.

—

Beta was next, the poor thing.

You were always the one he blew off steam to, always willing to listen about his gripes and complaints, offering him consolation in the form of kisses and soft words.

However, you hadn't come to visit in so long, the segment was all pent up and now the agents were beginning to fall victim to him.

Fine then - he'd seek you out. Not because he needed you or missed you or anything of the sort. You were just... halting his progress with the lack of your presence. Yes, that was it.

And so the scientist, donning his grand pink bow tie, swung by your desk.

"So this is where you've been? How boring." Beta was not a segment that you'd want to do paperwork. He much preferred to be hands-on.

"Ah, Beta!" You brightened in delight at seeing one of your lovers. "I missed you!" At least you were always honest about your feelings.

... But to cut a long story short, Beta faced the same conundrum that Omega did.

Someone got turned into a floating Ruin Machine that day.

—

By now all the segments had experienced being turned away from work. Alpha's signature scowl had become permanent. Zandy was pouting the whole day as he missed his parent. Foxttore kept to himself with a pathetic sopping wet eye. His segments were fighting with each other inside his mind, a great nuisance.

All because you were too absorbed with your work to pay them any attention.

... The Doctor was now realizing that it sounded like a very familiar tune sung by you. So this was what you felt for days on end? Now, it was easier for him to understand why you were always upset if you were ignored too much.

Still, it was mortifyingly embarrassing that his segments were reduced to this pitiful state just because you rejected cuddles a few times. Regardless, it was up to him to solve the issue. After all... he missed you too. He wanted you to be around him more often again.

And so the Doctor made his way to his beloved.

There you were, all cozy on your seat as you sorted through some papers. Really, he had no clue you'd be this productive, to be honest. At least it was proof that your health hadn't gotten worse, considering how well you were handling this.

"Aren't you the one who kept saying to take breaks?" His voice made you jump a bit, having not heard him walk up.

"It's you, Dottie! I was wondering when you'd come around. And of course, I take breaks, Dottore. I have lunch with the other agents!" Ah, another party that's been hogging your attention.

"You know, this job has been pretty fun, Dottore! Everyone's real nice, we make jokes, I get to write about interesting things..." You continued to go on about the research and while usually he'd be intrigued by your findings, this time he had enough.

Dottore picked you up like a long cat as you squealed from the sudden grasping.

"What are you doing?!"

"You're coming with me," was his cut and dry response as he lifted you into his arms.

"B-But I have to work on the big report for Pantalone!" Dottore's eye twitched at the mention of the banker.

"Someone else can."

"But I-"

"I'm not listening to anything you say further," he plainly said as he walked with you cuddled into his chest as you gawked at him.

Could he be... jealous? A wee bit lonely? You kept your guesses to yourself as he eventually bought you back to his room and laid you on his bed, not even saying anything to you before sitting at his desk.

Did he simply miss your presence that much? You felt a bit bad neglecting your lovers that much. But to be fair, they kinda did the same... sometimes. You got up to console your silly husband, who was just a man in your hands.

"Hey... I missed you too, dear husband... but I had to make sure no one stole the title of best assistant from me!" Dottore only sighed at your foolishness.

Of course no one could ever replace you.

"I know you'd rather die than admit it... but don't worry. You're lucky I'm sensitive to your feelings," you teased as you kissed the top of his mask. "I'll pay more attention to you and the segments, before they cause another headache for you, love. You'll give me some vacation time off, right?"

You laughed at your own joke before Dottore pulled you into his lap, biting down hard on your neck.

—

"Beloved, would you care to join me in discussing your work?"

"You fool, they're obviously coming to my lab to activate a new Ruin Machine."

"But [Name] is supposed to play with me today!!"

"As if, they're far too busy to join you all with your silly games."

"You all will stress them out with this arguing. Now, why don't you join me for a cup of coffee instead?"

"Grr, gr gr, grr!"

It was good to be loved so deeply.

[twstfanblog]

Hello I have a request, if you aren't doing requests please ignore this! But anyways the request is that may I have the TWST characters (especially the housewardens) and how would they react see their s/o in like traditional clothing from their world (example: Chinese traditional clothing is like qipao) Thank you so much! Have a fabulous day 💝

Qipao (Traditional & Modern) Reactions

Housewardens x Reader

Riddle

Traditional

Thinks the dress is beautiful. Even though it's loose, it still carries an air of professionalism. A perfect garment for his lovely rose. Really likes the modest nature of them.

Asks you lots of questions on the history of the garment if you know it. Ask if he could wear one as well. Just so many questions, he's pulled out a notebook to take notes.

Matching rose patterned qipao/tang suit for walks in the garden together!

Modern

WHY IS THE SLIT SO HIGH!?

Still thinks it's a very pretty dress, but he can not stop looking at the thigh slit. It compels him. Good lord, you're not even wearing tights!

Struggling to remain polite, but the dress is form fitting and you have a very lovely ass- excuse him, he needs to...be...out of the public eye.

Leona

Traditional

Jokingly calls it your fancy potato sack. Apologizes if you get actually mad at him calling it that.

Lowkey, he really likes it and does enjoy that it's still comfortable enough for you to nap with him. Half serious asks if they're pajamas.

Will start wearing Dashikis when you wear your qipao. Cultural matching ❤️

Modern

AYO-

Goes dead silent, his eyes are watching your every move. The dress is tight, the slit is mid thigh. You look good and he's pissed you're not in grabbing distance.

Tells you you can't wear that qipao outside of his room. Not even Ramshackle. Now walk closer, he's gonna...grab ya.

Azul

Traditional

Fascinated and asking questions. Both about the cultural history and the manufacturing side.

Thinks it's a very lovely dress with high marketing potential; simple yet perfect for all class levels due to the fabric and embroidery you can make with it.

Lowkey wants to gift you some more because he just likes them so much and he thinks you look elegant in them (Be his spouse please).

Modern

Honestly, it took him a hot minute to really notice. Since modern qipaos are made to be so fancy, he first started picking it apart to discern value like he does all new things.

Really noticed the silhouette and how revealing it was once he looked at the chest area and saw how tight it was.

Compliments the dress but then says he has important business to do. No, he will NOT stand up-

Kalim

Traditional

OH! You look so pretty! You always look pretty, but the qipao just makes you look EXTRA pretty like every other thing you wear.

He's breaking down the outfit by the quality of fabric alone. He pouts it's not 100% some super rare silk that only grows in 4 parts of the world in Spring during the rain on a full moon.

Whining at you and Jamil to let him make so many qipaos. He will have a literal factory up and running by mid day just to make you more of these gorgeous slips so that you're always cozy.

Modern

Nearly ruins it doing a spit take at seeing you. The boy is too stunned to speak, mouth open and getting coconut juice all over his front.

Once he snaps out of it he's all smiles again and asking you to show it off. Do a spin! The fabic is so pretty when you twirl, can you dance in it!? Come dance with him!

Lowkey just way too excited about you being in them. Fills him with some kind of energy where he just wants to hold you and spin around with you. Keeps fighting himself to not get down on one knee.

Vil

Traditional

'Oh?'

Interested in them but has his complaints (as always). He doesn't like how they hang shapeless, but the positives manage to outweigh the negatives in its function and appearance. Over all thinks its a cute house dress design and that you look nice in them.

Ends up commissioning some silk qipaos to have as lounge wear. Being comfortable, yet ready to host is an amazing new option he's gained.

Modern

'OH!?'

More complaints but it's because the dress is so sexy. It's too tight, the slit shows too much thigh, the boob window is unnecessary. He won't stop complaining but lowkey is so FLUSTERED.

He keeps tugging and picking at the outfit like he isn't pulling you into his lap to mutter into your neck all his frustrations on having such an attractive partner.

Idia

Traditional

Almost didn't really notice because he was showing you something in his game. Once he does notice he remarks on how nice you look.

Honestly, doesn't say much about it but will take notice if you wear them a lot when you go see him. He'll ask about them, asks if you really like them. He can and will buy you a bunch of them in various colors and patterns.

He does get you matching ones of your mains in the current MMO he's dragged you into. Lazy cosplaying for the win.

Modern

He took one look and froze, only unfroze because he started dying in game.

How could you do this? Why have you come into his room looking SEXY and forced him to look at you? What do you think hes gonna do???? Rip your clothes off and throw you on the bed????

He keeps peeking at you then turning away with his hair giving away just how flustered he is. Still manages to stutter out how nice you look.

Malleus

Traditional

Oh look at this. His lovely child of man is in new clothing. Please give him the entire history on the garment.

Lowkey, I think he'd really like them. It's very simple but with the potential of being super fancy just with easy fabric choices and embroidery.

Compliments you all the time when he sees you wearing one. Asks if only certain people can wear them. Do you think he'd look good in one? Just really likes them.

Modern

"...So, would you like a Summer wedding?"

This a dangerous game. He loves you so much already, but now you show him how attractive you are in tight clothing that shows off your skin? He will marry you, he will marry you so fast.

Lowkey rips it on accident, and apologies for hours. God forbid if you got one with a dragon winding around you. He honeslty got a little territorial and that's why his claws got caught on the stitching...

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 1/?

God I'm a sucker for a soulmate au. (AO3) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, eventual smut, slow burn

Wordcount: 2347

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

Other info: About this au - Soulmates find each other through touch, which establishes a mental link that lets feelings through, and if solid and built up enough over time, simple thoughts/words can also come through. Some bonds are purely platonic, about ⅓ in total. Multiple soulmates are not unheard of, but rare, more common with platonic soulmates. 

Quickly about the reader - mercenary/gunman/thug for hire. Great shot with pretty much any gun, has two knives as backup weapons, has fought with swords before. Looks wise he has hair and is shorter than Wade and Logan, but I try to keep no specific height in mind while writing. Has a few scars scattered over his body, but nothing specific as of yet. Does not want a soulmate, thinks it just leaves people vulnerable. Lives on his own in an apartment he owns and is content with his life.

All you were, really, was hired help.

All you were supposed to do was stand around and look scary with a few other tugs in a warehouse with high shelves stacked with crates, while your employer (a generous word for the drug dealer that hired you) met with another drug dealer.

It had gone tits up the second a man wearing a red and black spandex suit and katanas on his back of all things came crashing through a window.

You had dived for cover, because there are gunshots ringing out in the milliseconds after the glass shatters. You curse, reaching for your gun, with just one single 10 bullet magazine, because your stupid employer had insisted you only needed one when you asked for more. So to have something more you had your adamantium knives strapped to each thigh, hidden enough under your black joggers.

You curse under your breath, cause this is fucking awful. You hear gunshots over and over again, people are dying, wood from shipping crates are splintering, metal is hitting the floor. 

And there’s talking. 

Fucking talking.

“Come one guys, your aim is all off! Did none of you ever train on the neighborhood cats?”

Well, more like yelling. Because even though the warehouse wasn’t empty, it still had an echo. You are used to the loud sounds, it fuels your adrenaline as you peek out from behind the crate you are using as a shield.

The man, you are just going to call him Red for now, is flipping and bouncing between crates, avoiding any big hits. A few bullets graze an arm, but he doesn’t seem to take notice as his own bullets find their marks, bodies dropping around him. He’s nimble and quick about it, taking down guys from both sides with equal gusto, and you find yourself just watching him carefully. He’s almost elegant, light on his feet, and a jab or taunt spewing out of his mouth every few bullets. 

Careful not to alert Red or anyone else about your position, you shift, gun in hand watching him saunter over to your employer, the last man standing. Well, not really, since he’s down on his knees, begging for something incoherent while fat tears and snot roll down his face. 

“Newsflash asshole, I don’t care for your tragic backstory that the writer won’t let you talk about.” Red raises his gun, one last loud bang filling the warehouse before it’s quiet once again.

“Last fucking one, my counting skills once again making me win.” Red claps his hands together, before moving his hands to his hips, looking around the warehouse. “What a fucking mess.” He shakes his head, and you see your opportunity now that he thinks it’s all over.

You move up, pulling the trigger as soon as your gun is aimed right. Red doesn’t even get to turn before six bullets go through his chest, two through his throat, and the last two finding their mark in his skull. You shouldn’t use all your bullets on one target like that, but still you do.  Red drops like a sack of potatoes, and you draw a sigh of relief, lowering your gun as you too look around the warehouse. You’re glad it’s far away from anything else, because it should take at least a few hours before the cops are alerted, and by that time you would be far away from this warehouse that is by now covered in blood, bullet casings, and dead men.

Your earlier relief turns into utter confusion as you hear shuffling, and when you turn back towards where Red’s body is, you see him shake his head where he lays crumpled on the floor, and seconds later he’s on his feet with a groan.

“Okay, good shot whoever that was.” You gape, words slipping out of your mouth without meaning to.

“What the fuck.” Red’s head snaps towards you.

“Oh, there you are.” His voice is light, almost like he’s halfway into song. “I would return the favor, but I’m fresh out of bullets so this will have to do.” He pulls out the katanas strapped to his back. You grab your knives, managing, somehow by the grace of whatever runs this universe, to bring it out just in time to block both katanas that were coming at you in tight formation.

“Oh so you weren’t just happy to see me.” Red jokes, and though you can’t see his face under the mask, you are pretty sure he is grinning. You grunt, because there is no way for your brain to form words as you parry another attack from him, retreating.

You are in no position to attack, so all you do is stop his, and try to escape, backing off. Or rather, you try to, but Red is not letting up, so all you end up doing is walking backwards through the warehouse in a vague path between boxes and shelves as he attacks. 

He manages to get a few slashes here and there to connect, but they are shallow, just enough to draw blood and sting. One on your left arm, two on your right arm, three on your left leg. You wonder if amounts are on purpose. He seems to take it all as encouragement, laughing, keeping up his quick attacks. 

You don’t know you hold out, breathing heavy, arms and hands hurting with how you are clutching and shielding with your knives like your life depends on it. 

Because it 1000% fucking does, that’s why you manage.

Red finally lets up, just enough that you can create some space between the two of you. You don’t dare to actually turn and run, certain he has no moral code of cutting down someone from behind. So you just try to slowly create even more room between the two of you as you watch for his next attack.

“Oh I am having fun!” Red tries to clap, but he just knocks the hilts of his katanas together. “Though we are just a little unevenly matched here.” He sounds like he’s breathing just a little bit harder at least, even though there are no cuts next to the bullet holes riddling his suit. He tilts his head for a moment, then bends down, and then there’s a katana sliding over the floor, bumping into your boot. You look down at it, before looking back up at him.

“Come on, pick it up.” Shifting your knives into one hand, you keep your eyes on the white eyes of his mask as you bend down and pick up the sword. 

“Oh yeah, look at me during.” You ignore his comment, feeling the weight of the katana in your hand. It’s heavy, but perfectly balanced, feeling perfect as you spin it in your hand a few times, the hilt still warm from Red’s earlier hold. 

“Hot.” Red says as he twirls his second katana, mimicking you. Once more ignoring him, you put your knives back in their sheats. “Do you have them there to distract your enemies by making them think you are going to jerk off mid-battle?” You snort.

“No, they are there so they are more hidden, and more difficult to grab.”

“If you wanted my hands in your pants all you had to do was ask, baby.” You think Red is winking at you through the mask. You roll your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Shut the fuck up.” With both of your hands on the hilt of the katana, you are ready to defend yourself from his first attack.

“Ohhh, you remind me of someone. I think the two of you would get along, he’s also a man of few words. Maybe I’ll let you live so you can meet him and fight him too, more material for my spank bank.” He definitely winks this time, then you are defending yourself from another attack from him. It pushes you backwards, again, but this time, you are able to attack back.

Though you can’t help but wonder if he’s letting you, just indulging you. Because you can feel how strong he is when you parry his strikes, you felt how strong he was when all you had was your knives.

It’s a dance, a dance he lets you participate in as you block, attack, block, attack, block. Redirecting his sword coming for your throat so it splinters wood instead of flesh.

“How did you learn to fight like this?” Wade asks, almost spinning as his energy is redirected away from your body. He is at least breathing a little heavier, and for some reason, you find yourself having a little fun, even though you think you know how this is going to end.

“I was a loser in high school. What about you?” You speak through gritted teeth, the sound of metal on metal filling the warehouse as you block another attack. You don’t even know why you ask him back, but it feels right.

“Something similar.” It’s still kinda hard to tell, but you think he grins under his mask as you attack back.

You do get a few cuts in, deep enough that it slices through his suit and the skin underneath, but it leaves you with little satisfaction as you see the cuts heal in seconds. Though at least his suit can’t fix itself, growing more tattered by the minute as new slashes and old bullet holes make a mess of it.

“So you are not just a pretty face, there’s some skills there.” You frown, anger flaring, and you are about to say something, but with a quick move that you have no opportunity to block, and that  truly demonstrates the difference between the two of you, he nicks you with just the tip of the katanta, just on the left corner of your mouth. You startle, but on instinct your tongue goes out to lick at the blood now sliding down to your skin. It just gives you more motivation to strike back, a big one that leaves behind what could almost be called a titty window on his chest, showing textured skin underneath.

“Ohhhh, freaky.” Red taunts, slicing your chest too, though your skin doesn’t heal when metal connects after slicing through your shirt like air. You curse, adrenaline causing your ears to roar, and the world to go a little fuzzy at the edges. You touch your chest, fingers coming back bloody, watching Red. Your own katana pointing towards the floor, ready, but down as you breathe heavily.

“Leaving yourself all open for me? You shouldn’t have.” Red coos, and that is what you are counting on. Letting him attack you straight on, thinking you have given up, so you can shove the katana through his skull, killing him again, and leaving you at least a few moments to high tail it out of there.

It’s what the plan is.

It does not work out like you intend it to.

It goes in a whole new direction.

Because when he comes close enough, you manage to get a hold on his shoulder, which gets you a hopefully not deadly slice over your abdomen for your efforts. You are moving quickly, seconds away from stabbing the katana through the bottom of his jaw. But then your fingers touch a bare spot on his shoulder where his suit had gotten torn, and there’s a sparkler going off in your brain, a sizzling sensation that settles in the back of your head as feelings of excitement, adrenaline, and happiness that are not your own speeds through your mind.

You gasp out loud.

You can’t help yourself.

Because you know what that was.

And there is no fucking way.

WHAT. THE. ABSOLUTE. 

FUCK.

Fucking no.

A soulmate.

You have a fucking soulmate??????

And this is how you fucking meet him????

In all of your turmoil, you have dropped the katana that was destined to go through Red’s skull. He is a few paces behind you, not immediately attacking, just watching you as you turn around in your now mostly frozen state.

“Wh-”

“Touch me.” Red blinks, owlishly even with the white eyes of his mask.

“Wow, so forward. You know, con-” 

“Shut the fuck up.” You march over to him, and in what seems to be confusion he lets you tug the glove of his hand that is not holding his katana. You interlace your fingers, the motion absurdly tender for the moment that is currently playing out. You see his eyes widen behind the mask, and you are sure his mouth opens and closes several times even hidden as it is.

“What the fuck.” The words are so soft out his mouth that you are not even sure he said them. Not that it matters, because a second later he is wrenching his hand back like you burned him. He runs past you, and you watch as he picks up his katana where you dropped it, and then keeps running after that brief slowdown, heading towards a door you hadn’t noticed while you were fighting. You startle yourself into action finally, following him, but he’s out the door before you can reach him.

On the other side there’s a hallway, and his back is quickly retreating, and all you feel is panic. You are not sure which of you it is coming from.

You try to keep up with him through multiple hallways, but he’s fast, getting out of the building before you do. It’s enough of a headstart that you only see backlights and hear the roar of a motorcycle speeding away.

You run over to where the cars you all arrived in earlier are parked, but of fucking course all tires are slashed. Not like you had any of the keys anyway, but they would have been easy enough to find in some dead man's pockets.

“Fucking MOTHERFUCKER!” You know he can’t hear you, but you hope Red feels your frustration through your bond as you punch the hood of a car, denting the metal.

(Part 2)

[mercuriians]

connect (with you)

synopsis ��� kuroo’s walls come down after the game with karasuno.

content info — some hurt/comfort with our beloved nekoma captain because he deserves all the love in the world 🙏 SPOILERS for the dumpster battle movie so beware. reader is mentioned to be kenma’s sister a few times.

author’s note — just wanna say hi to the haikyuu fandom :) hope u enjoy this short drabble i wrote, i’ll probably make it look pretty later. lmk if you wanna see more kuroo x kozume!reader in the future.

your lips are on kuroo’s before the locker room door even has a chance to close. his skin is soft and familiar, his kiss eager yet vulnerable. something compels you to reach up, circling your arms around his neck as you pull him closer, tighter, until you’re sure that his warmth has become your own. the sound of his breathing is the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground as your mouths meet again and again. no words need to be spoken.

after years of being together, and even more years of being friends, you know tetsurou like the back of your hand. as if he’s perpetually been woven into your spirit, etched into your heart since the day he moved into the house next to you and your brother’s.

you know that the cheery grin he shot his teammates, the reverent bow he gave to the crowd, and the meaningful hug he shared with daichi at the end of the match were all borne out of three things—his sworn responsibilities as the captain, his earnest respect for karasuno, and the addictive rush of adrenaline.

the moment he left behind the arena’s blinding lights, though, the high seemed to wear off.

yet an aching feeling stayed with him.

when you pour your heart out on the court and play until your muscles feel like they’re on fire, when you devote hours of your precious time towards practicing—towards smoothening out every crack within your blocks, every blemish within your serves, every falter within your receives—and when you imagine the game countless numbers of times in your head until it feels like a memory, there’s a certain type of pain you feel when it’s all over. it’s a sadness that’s inevitable, and yet one that stings so profoundly and uniquely that it becomes a bittersweet moment you’re bound to remember for the rest of your life.

just one more second, one more chance— you think to yourself in a flurry of desperation. because as foolishly selfish as it sounds, nobody ever truly wants the game to end.

that feeling of wanting to remain frozen in the experience is something you yourself are all too familiar with. volleyball, after all, was what gave birth to the connection you now so deeply share with tetsurou.

you suppose that’s why you’re able to pinpoint the exact moment his shoulders start to shake.

pulling away from the kiss, you feel your heart plummet into your stomach before you can even see the tears trickling down his face. something you’ve come to learn about tetsurou is that he rarely ever cries, so when he does, it only makes the sight that much more impactful. wordlessly, you pull him into you once more.

the way your arms firmly, comfortingly wrap around his tall figure conveys a simple but invaluable message that resonates throughout the empty room— “i’m not letting you go.”

quietly, he sobs. you let him.

you barely notice your nekoma jacket becoming damp with his tears. when his crying slowly starts to recede, you break the silence, voice soft and tender. “you were amazing out there, tetsurou,” you whisper. “and there’s three things i want to thank you for.”

withdrawing by the tiniest sliver, just enough so he can meet your patient gaze, your boyfriend tilts his head slightly in the way he always does. his fingers subconsciously trace patterns across the small of your back. “what are they, baby?” his voice is quiet and a little hoarse. really, it’s a miracle that you manage to block out your own shadows of sadness.

“one,” you whisper, fingers reaching out to gently wipe away his tears, “thank you for being the best captain this team could ever ask for.”

“two,” you continue, leaning in to kiss away the tears that remain, before a small smile pulls at the corners of your lips, “thank you for helping my brother fall in love with volleyball.”

“and three,” you breathe out, your vulnerable gaze meeting his own, lips inching towards his once more, “thank you for being as strong as you’ve been, and for carrying the world’s burden on your shoulders when none of us could.”

when you finish your heartfelt confession, tetsurou’s hazel eyes glaze over with a fresh wave of tears—this time, however, it’s for an entirely different reason.

and this time, he’s the one that kisses you first.

[sacrificiallane]

thief ― luke castellan x reader smut

cw: filth filth filth! pls, i'm kinda ashamed of posting 😭 jerking off, male masturbation, stealing of underwear, fantasizing about reader, delusions?? dark luke! i repeat, dark luke! mention of gaslighting reader in the past! kinda pathetic bf Luke

„fuck― baby…“ stifled moans were spilling over the boys lips, quick in his movement as his hand went over his length.

fap. fap. fap. the sound purely filthy, yet completely in rhythm with his quick motion. he didn’t have a lot of time, after all, it would only be a few more minutes until your sweet voice would chime through his cabin. and Luke certainly did not want to explain just what he was doing. what he has been doing…

„gods―,“ another groan, and his tense fingers tightening around the flimsy material spread so greedily over his flushed tip.

it was sinful just as it was wrong... but Luke rarely cared for such.

if you didn't want him to steal from you, then you should keep your belongings somewhere better hidden, simple as that. although, Luke is terribly good at finding things he really shouldn't...

maybe being a borderline kleptomaniac was in his blood after all, being a son of Hermes ― a god of thievery ― and all that. so Luke could push the blame onto his heritage. but, honestly, this was all simply his own doing.

your pretty boyfriend just loves that flushed look on your face, when you‘d freak about your things going missing. especially your underwear! and maybe he just loves to make you doubt. doubt that he ever bought you a pastel pink pair, doubt that ― what ? no, you didn‘t wash your lacy blue one last week, it‘s right here' ― and it‘s crusty and dirty despite you claiming to have washed it and ― baby, are you sure you‘re alright?.

he is just so good at gaslighting and it's almost embarrassing! for you, anyway, of where you tend to believe any and every lie that spills like thick honey from his mouth just to keep some control over you, and to make you believe that you really just need him for the simplest things. because you're just such a mess without him!

Luke Castellan just really loves to fuck with your brain. sometimes he loves it even more than having his fingers wrapped around your tongue, or your tongue wrapped around... other things...

„fuck, fuck, fuck.“ conjuring images of your sweet little tongue licking up and down his shaft with little to no experience because ― of course Luke had been your first, is enough to have him hiss out in pleasure. the lace part of your underwear has him become even more sensitive, and it surely helps with pretending it's your teeth bumping into the sensitive skin, as you always claim he's just too big for your mouth, making it very hard to swallow around him without nibbling just a little!

he's already drenching the fabric, making it almost translucent by how much he's leaking. he knows it's almost pathetic, having the mere thought of you, the fantasy of you, reduce him to such desperateness. and yea, maybe it's a little unfair to not introduce you to his little... fetish. but that would only make it less exciting for him!

and honestly, Luke always makes it up to you right after, even if you're completely unaware of such! he always stuffs himself right between your thighs and licks you silly, until you're too dumb to notice the quick motion of him stuffing a new pair into the back pocket of his jeans...

yes, maybe Luke will land in Tartarus for this one, but he thinks it's totally worth it!

when the boy is sure he'll spill, feeling the familiar tightness build and build, he skillfully angles himself right where your panties would normally cup your his pussy. the thought of a ― yet again ― totally confused you, makes him finally shoot ropes of watery white until he's completely soaked the piece.

his fingers cramp a little when he detaches them from his skin, making your messy underwear fall to the side, and his head fall back into the pillows. Luke is breathing heavily still, having only barely enough time to stuff the dirty fabric under his pillows, and his softening member back into his pants, before your babbling self comes marching through his door.

oh and you're so blissfully unaware of your missing lingerie sticking to the underside of his pillow, of where he'd later hide it somewhere for you to find, just to scold you about being so damn careless with your stuff 😔 thank the gods for him, because you'd just be so lost without a boyfriend like Luke !

he's so ew! i need him, pls.

[haartemis]

CROSS THE LINE | Jude Bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader, unnamed fictional RM player x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

summary: after a fallout with your boyfriend, you find solace in a spontaneous night at the movies, where you run into his golden boy teammate. one thing leads to another and you cross the line.

A/N: first judith fic!! this was really fun to write. (very loosely) based on guilty as sin by taylor swift. let me know what yall think <3

warnings: infidelity (i don't condone it yall its just fun to write morally gray characters 🫣)

someone once told you there’s no such thing as bad thoughts – that it’s your actions that truly define you.

you wonder what they’d say if they saw you now: sitting up in bed with your boyfriend sound asleep beside you, staring at your phone with a pounding heart, silently hoping, waiting, for a message from someone else.

you wait and wait, but there’s nothing. your home screen stays empty, mocking you. you glance at your boyfriend. his shallow breathing fills the quiet room, steady and oblivious.

he has no idea you came home at 3 a.m. wearing his teammate’s jacket.

you'd stuffed it in the back of your closet as soon as you got home, a relic of a night that shouldn’t have happened. you'd scrubbed yourself thoroughly in the shower, trying to wash away the smell of jude’s cologne that clung to your skin. but it’s still there. not on your skin anymore, but in your mind, stamped into your memory to stay forever. 

the way the flickering lights from the movie theater screen cast shadows on his beautiful face, the fleeting feeling of his warm hands on yours as he handed you his jacket, the full body rumble of his laugh, the feel of his soft lips on yours.

you will never forget. how could you, when that was the first time in months you’d felt seen? desired. wanted. needed. it’s an intoxicating feeling, like stepping into the sunlight after living in the shadows for the longest time.

and now, staring at your phone, you feel it all over again. the pull. the wrongness of it all.

a buzz breaks the silence. your heart jumps into your throat as the screen lights up and a single message appears.

jude: you got home safe?

it’s innocent enough. simple. harmless.

you could ignore it. pretend you didn’t see it. block his number and put an end to whatever this is before it spirals into something else.

but instead, your fingers move on their own accord.

you: yeah. thanks for checking.

you press send before you can stop yourself. you lock your phone and put it on the bedside table before closing your eyes and willing yourself to go to sleep.

to your credit, none of this was planned. it all starts earlier that night. you and your boyfriend are supposed to have a date night, a rare opportunity to spend some alone time together. you pick out a dress he once says is his favorite and make a dinner reservation at his favorite spot.

but plans change quickly.

“babe, the guys just texted,” he says, barely looking up from his phone. “they’re hopping on fifa in a bit. you don’t mind if we raincheck, right?”

you stare at him dumbfounded as he flops down onto the couch.

“raincheck?” your voice trembles, the tears obvious, yet he doesn’t even glance at you.

“yeah. just tonight, we’ll do something soon,” he says dismissively.

it’s not the first time he’s blown you off, but tonight it stings a little more. maybe it’s the fact that he’s so indifferent to you and your feelings, he doesn’t even care to notice the relationship is teetering on the edge of a cliff. he doesn’t realize that you’re making an effort to save it while he’s unknowingly contributing to its unraveling.

you realized it too late, but you know now you’re not a partner to him, not really. you’re a glorified accessory, someone he can show off for external validation, a dependable constant in his life that’s only there to cheer him on and make him look good while he gives his attention and energy to the things he actually cares about: his friends, his family, and above all, his football.

it wasn’t like this in the beginning, but things changed quickly after he made the move to real madrid and became a bigger star. with every goal, every headline, and every paparazzi photo, you sank further into the background of his life.

you linger for a moment, waiting for him to change his mind, to look up and realize what he’s doing. but he doesn’t. so you grab your bag and leave without saying another word.

the cinema isn’t your first choice. you wander the streets for a while, debating whether to call a friend or just head home. but you need a distraction, something that can dispel all the thoughts running through your head. so before you know it, you’re buying a single ticket to whatever is playing next.

the theater is almost empty. it isn’t until you sit down and glance at your ticket that you realize you’re not seeing something new, but a re-release of a classic: Goodfellas.

halfway through the movie, you see a figure slip into a seat a few rows ahead of you. a few moments pass, and you feel a pair of eyes boring into the back of your head. it’s distracting, like an itch. you can't bear to ignore it any longer so you turn your head and look straight at the person. the figure quickly shifts his gaze, pretending to be engrossed in the screen. his features are hidden thanks to the hoodie he’s wearing, but his height and broad shoulders give him away as a man.

you hold your gaze for a second longer, just to make sure he gets the message, before turning back to the screen. but your focus is broken after that.

a few more moments pass and you notice the man stand and make his way out of his row. you let out a quiet breath of relief, assuming he’s leaving. but from the corner of your eye, you see the same figure moving toward your seat. your body stiffens immediately. why is he coming your way? maybe it was a bad idea to come to a nearly empty theater alone so late at night.

you watch as he stops in front of you and slightly crouches to not block the view of the screen.

“y/n?” he asks, voice low yet familiar.

“uh, yeah?” you respond warily.

“thought it was you.” he pulls back his hood, revealing the grinning face of jude bellingham.

a wave of embarrassment immediately washes over you. it’s bad enough that your boyfriend doesn’t love you and prefers to spend time playing video games with his friends, but now you have to run into his teammate of all people while you’re publicly wallowing in your misery—his kind, handsome teammate who always makes you flush whenever you cross paths.

this time is no different. your face grows warm as you stutter, “oh! h-hi, jude.”

you brace for the questions: why are you here alone? where’s your boyfriend? why do you have tear stains on your cheeks?

they don’t come though. instead, he gestures to the seat next to you. “mind if i join you? my seat over there was right under the AC; i was freezing.”

you nod. jude flashes you a smile as he takes a seat.

and then nothing. you watch the rest of the movie silently, the only interaction between you being an elbow nudge from him to offer his pack of candy.

he’s completely engrossed. he laughs silently at certain scenes, and in the more intense ones lets out small gasps. for someone else, it might’ve been annoying, but for you, who’s used to your boyfriend’s indifference to everything, you find his enthusiasm refreshing, maybe even a little endearing.

you spend the rest of the movie mentally going through the list of things you know about him : he's the same age as you (your boyfriend begrudgingly posted a birthday wish on his instagram story once), he can't drive (you see him being picked up by a driver whenever you visit valdebebas), he's genuinely nice (he always says hi when he sees you around, and he's politely held a door open for you once or twice), his spanish isn't the best (you once ran into him hopelessly trying to change his order at the canteen, sheepishly apologizing to the annoyed barista before you helped him out), and your boyfriend quietly holds a dislike for him because he's 'attention seeking' ( you secretly think its not his fault that he's charming and easygoing, that he has everyone he meets wrapped around his finger).

when the movie ends and the lights begin to brighten, he turns to you.

"do you wanna get ice cream?"

you hesitate for a moment.

"yeah. i’d love to," you say finally.

you exit the cinema, and when the fresh outdoor air hits you, you ask the question at the tip of your tongue.

"why and how are you here?"

"could ask the same for you," he grins.

"yeah, but—" you begin, but are immediately silenced by the sight in front of you. jude reaches into the pocket of the jacket he's layered over his hoodie and pulls out a dreadlocked toupee. with the straightest face, he carefully pulls down his hood, places the wig on his head, and adjusts it before pulling the hood back up.

you blink.

"you were saying?" the corners of his mouth twitch at your facial expression. without waiting for a reply, he starts walking, leading you away from the cinema.

you walk in tandem, still giving him a confused look. when you catch sight of his (fake) locs swinging along to the rhythm of his steps, you can’t help it; you burst out laughing.

“what’s so funny?” he turns to you, a mock hurt look on his face. “i’m part jamaican, you know.”

you pause your walking, doubling over and clutching your stomach as you laugh. he stands patiently, looking slightly amused.

after you catch your breath and fully recover, you continue walking.

“so that’s how you go places unnoticed?” you ask, still giggling.

“yup,” he says. “otherwise it’s a nightmare. need a bodyguard and stuff.”

you nod sympathetically as you stroll down the quiet street, the soft glow of streetlights casting long shadows on the concrete. jude walks with an easy confidence, his hands in his pockets while you glance over at him and his toupee every so often.

“so,” he says after a moment, glancing sideways at you, “what’s your excuse? why are you at a late night showing of Goodfellas all by yourself?”

your smile falters slightly. you look straight ahead, debating how much to share.

“just needed to get out of the house,” you say with a light tone.

jude doesn’t push, though the way he hums softly in response tells you he notices your answer is only a half-truth.

"what about you?" you ask.

"I like watching movies," he says simply.

when you give him a somewhat confused look, he pulls out his phone and opens the letterboxd app, showing you the extensive list of movies he's marked as watched. you skim through it and you’re surprised by the diversity. the list is seemingly filled with movies of all genres, from classic films to indie flicks. you didn’t expect this side of him, but somehow it makes sense.

as he enthusiastically explains the list, you can't help but feel endeared by the excited look on his face. you have the overwhelming urge to reach out and smooth over his furrowed brow with your finger. but for the first and only time that night, you don't act on that impulse.

you reach a small gelato stand located on a corner of the street, its neon sign glowing softly. jude steps forward and leans against the counter.

“pick whatever you want,” he says, winking as he passes you the menu.

“don’t mind if i do,” you say, raising an eyebrow. you ignore the way his words make you feel—warm and fluttery, like this is a first date between two single people.

after a moment of deliberation, you pick pistachio and hazelnut, watching as jude leans in to order the same for himself.

“you copying me?”

“nah,” he says with a smirk, passing your cone to you from the server. “just figured you have good taste.”

you wander away from the stand, both of you savoring your ice cream. for a while, you walk in comfortable silence. at one point, he removes the ridiculous wig from his head. it isn’t until you reach a park bench that jude breaks the silence.

"you know," he starts. "i haven’t seen you at a lot of games lately. everything good between you and your boyfriend?"

“‘your boyfriend?’” you tease. “why not call him by his name? you guys have beef or something?”

he stays silent.

you gasp half-jokingly. “oh my god! tell me everything, so i can sell the story to the tabloids.”

he lets out a laugh at that.

“you’re ridiculous,” he says, shaking his head, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“c’mon, spill,” you tease, nudging his arm lightly. “is he, like, selfish? does he refuse to pass during games?”

jude chuckles, shaking his head again. “nah, nothing like that. he’s a good player. talented, hardworking… you just start noticing things when you’re around someone all the time, you know?”

he says it carefully, almost hesitantly. you tilt your head at him. “notice things like what?”

he shrugs, his gaze dropping to his melting cone. “like… maybe he doesn’t appreciate what he’s got.”

the words hang in the air between you. you don't know how to respond, so you just gaze down at your own ice cream.

"sorry," jude says quickly. "didn't mean to overstep. i just—forget it."

"no, it's fine," you say quietly. "you're not wrong."

you sit in silence for a few moments. you feel him lean back against the bench, and the next time he speaks, his tone is lighter.

"my dad's coming to visit tomorrow," he says casually, an excited undertone in his voice.

"yeah? that's nice. does he come often?"

"not as much as i'd like," jude admits. "he's got my little brother to worry about in sunderland."

you smile softly. “what do you guys usually do when he visits?”

"usually we grab some food..."

he speaks about his bond with his dad, and also his close relationship with both his brother and mother. soon the conversation moves to childhood memories; jude tells you stories about growing up in birmingham, the football academy there, how he met his best friends at school. in return, you share stories of your own childhood, each one met with genuine curiosity from jude. you laugh, the conversation feeling effortlessly easy and natural.

it isn’t until you pull out your phone and glance at the screen to check the time that reality crashes back in. you have a boyfriend waiting for you at home. a boyfriend who hasn’t called, hasn’t texted, hasn’t even noticed that you’ve walked out of his house.

you lick the last remnants of your ice cream and are just about to crunch into the cone when jude gestures toward your chin. “you’ve got a little…” he says, trailing off as he points.

“oh,” you mumble while jude scans your surroundings for a tissue. finding none, he leans in and gently swipes at the bit of ice cream with his thumb.

“got it,” he murmurs, his touch lingering just a second longer than required.

what happens next can only be described as a a lapse in thinking, or maybe something you've been holding back all night. before your brain can catch up with your actions, you grab his hand and bring his thumb to your lips. you lick the ice cream away, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

jude freezes, his breath catching, his deep brown eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race.

"i—" you start, but whatever explanation you're about to give disappears when jude leans closer, his hand hovering near your face, as if waiting for your permission.

you don’t pull away. you don’t want to.

his lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, testing the waters. when you don’t push him away or move back, when, instead, you lean into him, his kiss deepens. it’s slow and deliberate, like he has all the time in the world to memorize every inch of you.

the ice cream cone in your hand is forgotten, melting onto the pavement as your fingers tangle into his hoodie, pulling him closer. the world fades, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble.

when you finally pull apart, your breaths mingle in the night air and jude’s forehead rests against yours.

“jude…” you whisper, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression serious. “tell me if I’ve crossed a line. i don’t want to make things harder for you.”

your heart flutters at the genuine care in his tone. you shake your head. “no, you didn’t.”

he doesn't keep his lips off you after that.

the next morning, you wake up feeling better than you have in months. there's a lightness in your chest, a warmth that’s been missing for what feels like forever.

you glance at your boyfriend, expecting to feel guilt or remorse. but there’s nothing. no pang of regret, no twist in your stomach. you feel... nothing at all.

you watch him roll out of bed and get ready for training. not a word passes between you as you sit down together in the kitchen to eat breakfast.

“so, what does your day look like today?” you try.

he doesn’t even look up, his attention entirely on his phone, scrolling with one hand while holding his fork with the other.

“i have a meeting at work that’s pretty—“ you start, but he cuts off.

“we’re doing penalty drills,” he mutters without looking up. “need to score more than bellingham so i can wipe that smug smile off his face. did you know he gets paid more than me?”

you just stare at him. you wonder what you even saw in him all those years ago. how had you overlooked the bitterness in his eyes, the envy? how had you missed it all along, his resentment towards anyone who seemed happier, luckier, more successful? his good looking face looks distorted to you now, forever changed to you to reflect the ugliness he holds inside. its as if you’re seeing him for who he really is for the very first time.

your phone buzzes on the table. without even checking, you know who it’s from.

jude: good morning :) sleep well?

you see it for what it is: an invitation to step into dangerous territory, to cross the line once more. a lifeline offering escape from the sinking ship that is your relationship.

you decide to take it.

you type a quick response and set the phone down. your boyfriend is grinning at an instagram reel now, completely absorbed.

you don’t speak to each other for the remainder of breakfast. this time it doesn't bother you at all.

[ikkyfics]

This is my first time requesting so I'm a little nervous!

Could you maybe write for Dave with a partner that has insomnia and really struggles with sleeping?

For example he would sometimes wake up at like 4 am and just see her on her phone wide awake?

Thank you if you decide to write this! Also please don't push yourself and take care! :)

Until You Sleep

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: When he entered, the steaming cup in his hand, you looked up at him, surprised. “Dave, you didn’t have to...” “I did, actually,” he interrupted with a soft smile. “Here. There’s nothing better than lavender tea to help you relax. Trust me, I researched everything about this.”

Warnings: none!

A/N: dear, i really hope you like this <333 it was a really cute request to write, please also take care

Masterlist

Dave had noticed you. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been paying attention before, but in the past few weeks, something felt different. You had been quieter, your eyes a little glazed, as if they were constantly tired. There were faint, but persistent dark circles that he had noticed while you bent over your college books or during the rare mornings when he woke up before you. It was as if insomnia had stolen some of the sparkle he loved so much about you, and that worried him more than he could express.

That night, Dave woke up suddenly. He wasn’t even sure what had woken him, but he instinctively turned to your side of the bed. You were there, still lying down, but something was wrong. Your silhouette, lit only by the faint blue light from your phone, was still, except for the soft movement of your fingers on the screen.

He blinked a few times, his messy dark curls falling over his forehead as he propped himself up on an elbow to get a better look. The first thing he noticed was the loose shirt you were wearing – one of his, navy blue, with the sleeves rolled up at your wrists. It was a sight that usually made his heart race with happiness, but now it only made him more aware of the fact that something was wrong.

“Hey,” he called, his voice still rough from sleep, but full of a sweetness he reserved only for you. “You couldn’t sleep, huh?”

You froze for a moment, as if you didn’t want him to know, but then sighed and lowered your phone. “I didn’t want to wake you...” your voice came out low, almost apologetic.

Dave leaned in closer, now lying on his side to face you. His blue eyes, even in the dark, had an intensity that made it seem like he could see much more than just your tired face. He reached out a hand to you, his warm fingers brushing against the cool skin of your arm. The touch was gentle, a silent request for you to look at him.

“You’ve seemed so tired lately. I’m worried,” the sincerity in his voice was enough to make you finally meet his gaze.

He slid his fingers down your arm until he was holding your hand, squeezing it lightly. “I know you’re trying to handle this on your own, but... let me help. I don’t like seeing you like this.”

There was something in his tone – a mix of determination and affection – that was so typically Dave. He wasn’t just awake; he was present. Completely focused on you, as if nothing else in the world mattered at that moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling like this?” he asked, his other hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You hesitated for a moment, averting your gaze to the phone still in your hand. Dave’s fingers, warm and firm, traced a gentle pattern on your arm, as if he were trying to convey calm through touch. His question echoed in your mind, simple yet full of meaning. He wasn’t just curious; he wanted to understand, wanted to know how he could help.

“I... didn’t want to bother you,” you murmured, finally responding. Your voice sounded fragile, almost a whisper. “You have so much going on with college, with assignments... It didn’t seem fair.”

Dave shook his head almost immediately, his messy curls moving with him. “That’s not how it works, you know? We’re in this together. If you’re not okay, then I’m not okay. That’s what being together means.”

He squeezed your hand a little tighter, leaning in closer. His eyes were soft, but there was determination in them, a quiet strength that made you want to believe every word he said. “You’ll never be alone in this, okay? No matter what.”

A brief, shy smile appeared at the corner of your lips, but you still seemed hesitant. Dave noticed. He always noticed. Without letting go of your hand, he leaned in closer and placed a soft, lingering kiss on your cheek, just below your eye. It was such a simple gesture, but full of affection that made your chest warm.

“Wait for me here,” he said, his voice low, almost a secret shared between you two. “I’ll be right back.”

Before you could ask what he was doing, he got up. Dave was just in sweatpants, the muscles in his back moving smoothly as he walked to the kitchen. You followed his movement, his messy curls and broad shoulders a reminder of how he had changed since high school. He was stronger now, but still the same Dave – kind, caring, always willing to put you first.

In the kitchen, he moved with careful quietness, trying not to make noise. He opened the small cabinet where you kept the teas and scanned the packages. He had bought those flavors specifically for you, after a long night researching about insomnia. The promises of relaxation and calm were printed on the packages in soft fonts, almost as if they were the solution to everything.

“Chamomile... or maybe lavender?” he murmured to himself, holding both packets for a moment before choosing the lavender one.

While the water heated up, Dave rested his hands on the counter and glanced down the hallway, where he could see the faint light from the lamp illuminating the bedroom. He wanted to do more. He wanted to find a way to lift the weight that seemed to have settled on you, even if it was an invisible weight.

When the kettle whistled, he quickly made the tea, adding a small spoon of honey – just the right amount of sweetness. He made sure it was the right temperature before heading back to the bedroom.

You were still lying there, the phone now resting beside you. When he entered, the steaming cup in his hand, you looked up at him, surprised.

“Dave, you didn’t have to...”

“I did, actually,” he interrupted with a soft smile. He sat down beside you on the bed, holding the cup carefully to avoid spilling it. “Here. There’s nothing better than lavender tea to help you relax. Trust me, I researched everything about this.”

You took the cup, your fingers brushing his for a moment. The warmth of the porcelain matched his expression – so warm, so full of affection.

“You really researched it?”

“Of course I did.” He seemed genuinely proud of himself, the smile on his face growing wider. “And you wouldn’t believe how many forums I read about what works to help someone sleep. Seriously, some people even suggest smelling soaps.”

You chuckled softly, the first time in days, and Dave looked at you as if he had just won the biggest prize in the world.

“That’s so silly,” you said, but you were still smiling.

“It might be, but if it works, I’ll do it.” He leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with that intensity so typical of him. “Anything to see you feel better.”

The silence settled back in, but this time it was different. There was no discomfort, only his presence, solid and comforting, like a safe harbor for the storms brewing in your mind.

Dave watched as you held the cup with both hands, blowing gently on the tea before taking a sip. He didn’t take his eyes off you for a second, as if every small movement you made deserved his full attention. It was that kind of thing that made him special – the way he was completely present, even in the simplest moments.

“Is it good?” he asked, his blue eyes fixed on yours.

You nodded, a small smile forming at the corner of your lips. “It’s perfect. Lavender with honey... you really pay attention to everything.”

“Of course I do,” he responded immediately, with a smile that made your heart warm. “I’m your boyfriend. It’s like... my mission to know what makes you feel good.”

The way he said it was so genuine, so full of affection, that you couldn’t help but smile even wider. He seemed satisfied to see it, as if that small gesture was confirmation that he was on the right path.

While you finished making the tea, Dave adjusted himself beside you on the bed, leaning back against the headboard with the pillow folded behind him. He was closer now, and you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, strong and secure.

“You know,” he started, his voice low, as if sharing a secret, “some people say that ambient sounds help with sleep. Like... rain noises, ocean waves... things like that.”

You tilted your head, curious, as you placed the empty cup on the nightstand. “Did you find that in your late-night research?”

“I did,” he admitted, laughing at himself. “I read a bunch of reports. There are even apps for that, you know? I thought about downloading one, but then I started wondering... what would I do if you said you preferred the sound of a waterfall or something impossible to replicate?”

You laughed softly, and he smiled along with you, as if the sound of your laughter was the answer to all his questions. He extended an arm, gently pulling you closer until your head rested on his chest.

“Well,” you began, your voice slightly muffled, the words vibrating against the firm skin of his chest, “I think I don’t need rain or waterfall sounds.”

“Oh, you don’t?” he asked, lowering his gaze to you.

You shook your head, a near-childlike gesture, as you slipped one arm around his waist, snuggling in closer. “I think I prefer listening to your heartbeat. It’s the most relaxing sound I know.”

Dave was silent for a moment, clearly surprised by your response. Then, his smile widened, lighting up his face in a way that made your chest tighten. He tilted his head slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head, while his hand began gently caressing your back.

“You’re unbearably cute, you know that?” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“You like it,” you replied, with a mischievous smile he didn’t need to see to know it was there.

“I love it,” he corrected, without hesitation. “And I love you. Far more than I can explain.”

Your face was pressed against his chest, and you could hear the steady, constant sound of Dave’s heartbeat. It was a rhythm that brought an almost immediate sense of security, as if the outside world could wait while the two of you remained like this, together.

“It’s beating fast,” you murmured, your voice soft and sleepy, as if it was more of a stray thought than something that needed to be said.

Dave laughed softly, a sound that reverberated through his body and reached you. “It’s your fault, you know?”

“My fault?” You lifted your face just enough to look at him, your brow slightly arched in confusion.

“Of course,” he replied, his blue eyes shining with amusement and something deeper, something more intimate. “You’re here, all cute, wearing my shirt... saying things that make my heart almost jump out of my chest. How do you expect it to stay calm?”

A shy smile appeared on your face, and you looked away, pressing your cheek back against his chest. Before fully resting, you left a delicate kiss there, right where you could feel the accelerated beats. It was such a small gesture, but it carried so much affection that Dave sighed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer, as if wanting to protect you from anything that might disturb you.

“You’re so silly,” he said, but there was a clear smile in his voice. “But, my God, I love this so much.”

You didn’t answer immediately, letting the comfortable silence fill the space between you. It was the kind of silence that didn’t need to be broken because it was full of meaning. The sound of your breaths blended together, and the warmth of his body beside you seemed to dissipate any trace of tension that might still have lingered.

After a few minutes, Dave spoke again, his voice low and soft, as if afraid to break the moment. “I’ll stay awake until you fall asleep.”

“You don’t need to do that,” you replied, your voice slightly muffled against his chest.

“Of course I do,” he said, as if it were obvious. “You’re the most important person in my life. If you can’t sleep, I can’t just ignore that.”

There was a pause, and he took the time to run his fingers through your hair, the movements slow and meticulous. It was a touch you knew he did on purpose because he knew how much it helped relax you.

“Dave...” you began, but your voice faltered slightly.

“Hmm?” He continued with his fingers in your hair, but tilted his head slightly to look at you.

“You make everything feel... easier,” you admitted, your eyes beginning to close as the fatigue finally started to take over. “Even when it feels impossible to sleep... with you, I feel like I can. I love you.”

Dave didn’t answer immediately but left a soft kiss on the top of your head, his warm breath against your hair. “It’s because you don’t have to do anything alone,” he whispered, as if it were a promise. “I’ll always be here, okay? Always.”

The sound of his heartbeat remained steady, and the arms around you were firm and comforting. For the first time in weeks, you felt your eyelids growing heavy for real, and before you could even realize it, sleep finally began to pull you under.

And Dave, as promised, stayed awake, watching you with a soft smile on his lips, as if taking care of you was the only thing in the world that truly mattered.

[cece693]

Secretary (Hannibal Lecter x GN! Reader)

Summary: Hannibal told Crawford that his secretary was 'pre-dispositioned by romantic whims' and traveled to the United Kingdom. However, it's rarely as simple as that.

tags: reader is Hannibal's ex-secretary, possible Stockholm syndrome, no established relationship, Hannibal being himself, kidnapping

You've been doing everything right—not disturbing Dr. Lecter unless absolutely necessary, keeping his records meticulously filed, and, with much reluctance, keeping Mr. Chilton occupied whenever he threatened to storm into Dr. Lecter’s current session to demand more of his time. Your job wasn’t easy, but you excelled at it, surpassing even Dr. Lecter’s expectations. Perhaps that should have been your cue to quit.

But you didn’t. And now, standing in the center of this impeccably furnished home—with its locked doors and an alarm system ready to blare at the slightest escape attempt—you understood the truth. Dr. Lecter would never truly let you go. He might grant you the illusion of freedom, but he would always keep tabs on you. Because, at the end of the day, he found you interesting. So much so that he didn’t kill you outright when you finally saw him for who he really was.

It had been an accident. You weren’t like the other secretaries who snooped and whispered about his peculiarities. You didn’t eavesdrop. You were just…there at the wrong moment. Gathering your belongings after a late evening at the office, you opened the door to leave, only to be greeted by Dr. Lecter standing outside. He was composed, as always. But then you noticed it—the splatter of blood decorating the bottom of his suit sleeve. Your eyes weren't quick enough to look away, and in that split second, you saw his expression change, just the barest flicker as he crossed his arms behind his back and straightened his posture.

"Ah," he had said, tilting his head slightly as if you were a particularly intriguing puzzle piece that had just fallen into place. "It appears I've caught you at an inopportune moment. I trust you’ll keep what you've seen to yourself?" His eyes were not asking. They were demanding. You swallowed hard, barely managing to nod.

"Yes, Dr. Lecter," you stammered. "Of course." He smiled then, a small curve of his lips that made your stomach drop.

"Good," he replied smoothly, stepping closer until you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "It's always refreshing to know who values their… position."

That had been the end of it. Or so you thought. Days turned into weeks, and you convinced yourself you had been imagining things, that perhaps you had misread the situation. But then came the gradual transition: the dinners you were "invited" to, the unspoken requirement to be available whenever Dr. Lecter saw fit. And finally, the inevitable—this place. His home.

Back to the present, you hear the front door click open, the soft thud of polished shoes on the wooden floor. Your heart jumps to your throat, but you force yourself to remain still as Dr. Lecter enters, his eyes immediately locking onto you with an unsettling intensity.

“There you are,” he greets, as if he were a husband returning to his spouse after a long day. “I trust you’ve been keeping yourself entertained?”

You manage a small nod, not trusting your voice to remain steady. "Yes," you reply, clearing your throat. "I…tidied up."

"Wonderful." He removes his coat with precise movements, placing it on the coat rack before turning to you, his gaze predatory yet casual. "Today was most eventful," he begins conversationally, crossing the room toward you with a grace that should make you feel comforted, but instead sets every nerve on edge. "One of my patients had quite the breakthrough. It’s fascinating, really, how easily one can guide a mind to certain…realizations."

He pauses just in front of you, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear in an unsettlingly intimate gesture. "You’ve always had such a strong mind," he murmurs. "That’s why I like you. And why I believe our arrangement will work out perfectly. Don't you agree?"

You swallow, searching for words that will appease him without sealing your fate even tighter. "Of course." you say carefully, hoping the neutrality of your response will satisfy him. He smiles again, that chillingly serene smile that never quite reaches his eyes.

"Good," he purrs. "Now, why don't you join me in the kitchen? I believe a little conversation over dinner would do us both well. After all," he pauses, his gaze darkening, "what's a home without a bit of warmth and companionship?" With a gesture, he beckons you toward the hallway, and you follow, each step a reminder of the delicate balance you must now maintain in this life you never chose.

[naughtyneganjdm]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will do,” Joel gave her a wink and then went to set up the area for him to get comfortable. Peter was still there sitting on the edge contemplating everything. Stealing a look back over his shoulder, Joel noticed that Y/N was still watching the two of them together. When their eyes locked, Joel sensed that she was sad before moving down the ladder to leave them alone. At this point? Her decision was made and Joel felt like he was just supposed to deal with it.

----

Tonight was sleepless for Y/N. Since she hadn’t called Negan during the day, he showed up at night to check in on her. It was uncomfortable considering Joel was up in the attic sleeping, but it was something that Joel was just going to have to get used to. Having Negan around was going to be a normal thing for them.

Lifting her head from Negan’s chest, Y/N let out an extended breath to look over Negan. Repeatedly the words that Joel had said to her about Negan had run through her mind. How she was just something to keep his interest while he was home. It was hard for her to believe that considering how good he had been with her since he had come to town.

Stroking her fingers over Negan’s abdomen, she lowered her head back against the center of his chest. Listening to his strong heartbeats comforted her. His breathing was loud letting her know that he was still sleeping. Forcing herself to close her eyes, she tried to sleep, yet she couldn’t stop thinking about things. Her mind wouldn’t relax.

Why couldn’t she sleep and just let it go?

“Ain’t he sweet?” a southern drawl caused her eyes to open slowly. Once she saw Joel standing at the door to her bedroom, she felt her throat tensing up with her head lifting from Negan’s chest. “Look at the two of you together.”

“Joel,” she spoke his name feeling uncomfortable that he had made his way down from the attic to come and see them together. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

“Why not? This used to be my home too,” Joel reminded her with a tip of his head, unhurriedly making his way to the corner of the bed to lower down onto it. Looking to Negan, Y/N was surprised to see that he was still sleeping with Joel approaching them. “Shouldn’t I be able to go anywhere I want?”

“Please stop this,” she begged of him, panicked that this was going to lead somewhere bad. “We’ve talked about this extensively Joel.”

“Stop what?” Joel retorted with a snort, leaning further back and bracing his weight on one hand. “I’m just having a conversation with you Y/N.”

“It’s inappropriate considering the situation,” she suggested looking to Negan when his breathing shifted, but he was still sleeping.

“What? You two are fully clothed,” Joel pointed to Negan, throwing his hands up in the air when she exhaled loudly. “For fuck’s sake, he’s sleeping anyways.”

“Can we please just talk in the morning?” she requested, pushing herself up into a fully seated position, doing her best to not wake Negan up with her movement. “I know you have a lot on your mind, but I just want to have a peaceful night, okay?”

“What is it about him?” Joel tipped his head to the side gazing over the sleeping Negan. “You obviously are still in love with me, so what is this? You’re trying to just make me jealous? Punish me for the things that I did?”

“No Joel, that’s not it at all,” she tried to reason with Joel having his face scrunch up in disbelief. “Yes, I love you, but I love Negan too. He’s incredible…”

“To you,” Joel pointed out with a huff. “We both know what Negan is capable of. Things he did. Sure, he acts different now that Lucille has passed away, but we both know the kind of man he is capable of being.”

“Knock it off,” she warned Joel who was obviously trying to start something. “I don’t know what it is about the two of you, but he’s been nothing but good to me and your children. When he didn’t even have to be. So please Joel, just go upstairs and sleep.”

“It always had to be a competition with you,” a deep rumble of a growl stammered from behind her. Looking over her shoulder, Negan’s eyelashes were lazily fluttering to an open. Negan’s voice was tired leaving it sounding raspier than normal. It took a minute to gather himself, but Negan dragged himself into a seated position, pressing his back against the headboard. “Not everything has to be a competition between us Joel.”

“Come on,” Joel scoffed, throwing his hand up dramatically. “When you’re sleeping with my ex-wife when I’m doing my best to get back with her, how couldn’t I?”

“Sleeping with your ex-wife?” Negan repeated, scratching at the side of his face. “We’re doing a little more than sleeping together. You act like I’m only here to get fucked.”

“You’re a man Negan,” Joel retorted, turning to face Negan fully. “You could have had anyone in this town, but it was my wife that you went after.”

“Ex-wife,” she corrected Joel who immediately rolled his eyes at her quickness.

“There is no feud between us here Joel. We were teenagers when everything happened and I’ve grown up,” Negan insisted, letting out a tense breath when he shrugged. “In some ways at least. I just care about Y/N and the things that she wants.”

“Right,” Joel mocked Negan’s tone having Negan snickering in response. “I’m sure that’s the only reason that you are doing this.”

“Listen, buddy…” Negan began, but Joel held his finger up in the air to silence him.

“I’m not your buddy,” Joel snapped at Negan which had Y/N in a panic. Why did this have to happen? With their children in the house, Y/N assumed that Joel would behave, but this was happening.

“You know what the difference between the two of us is?” Negan pointed at his chest and then toward Joel who shook his head dramatically waiting for some kind of answer.

“Can we not do this?” she asked them both, sliding forward in the hopes that they got the hint that she didn’t want the two of them fighting. Especially since both children adored Negan and Joel. Having them fight would just make things way more complicated for them.

“No, this needs to be said,” Negan assured her, sliding his left hand out to cover her knee to give it a supportive squeeze. Adjusting his position on the bed, Negan slid more toward the middle of the bed and it had a breath catching in her throat. “You want her all to yourself and if you can’t have her, you’ll have a shit fit. Me? If she wanted to be with you? I’d accept it.”

“Bullshit,” Joel’s jaw flexed, his angered brown eyes narrowing when his head tipped forward trying to intimidate Negan in some way. “I know that’s not true.”

“It is. I’d be okay with her picking you because I actually want to see her happy,” Negan declared with a firm shake of his head. “Even if she decided that right here, right now she wanted both of us…I’d be okay with it.”

Something switched in Joel’s face, the seriousness of the moment suddenly changing to confusion. Going to speak up, Joel stopped and then let out a tense breath, “Do you mean like a three-way?”

“Why the fuck not? If that’s what she wanted,” Negan muttered with a half-smirk. “If she wanted to be between the both of us? Who am I to say no? Unless you couldn’t handle something like that Joel. Are you too much of an alpha male to be able to share?”

“Share?” she repeated what Negan said, her heart fluttering at the idea. “You’re…you’d be okay with that?”

“Why not?” Negan threw his hands up in the air letting out an amused exhale. “I’m not an asshole. Like I said, the thing that matters the most to me is that you are happy. Joel. Me. Both of us. I’m okay with it.”

Gasping out, she felt the firm grasp of Joel’s fingers pulling on her jaw to get her to turn toward him. Hammering his lips in over hers, Joel’s kiss was determined eliciting an amused rumble from Negan behind her. A gentle tug on her jaw brought her to Negan who captured her lips in a kiss as if trying to prove something to Joel.

“Just like that?” Joel snorted with Negan faintly pulling his lips away from hers. “No jealousy?”

“Not from me,” Negan claimed with a wolfish smile, nipping at her bottom lip to give it a small tug. Chills were flooding her spine with Joel pushing at the material of the t-shirt she was wearing. Revealing her shoulder to him, Joel started pressing heated kisses over her shoulder having her trembling slightly at his touch.

“What is going on?” she placed her hands over both Joel and Negan’s chest to get them to back up. Right now it did feel like they were trying to have some kind of competition between them with her to prove a point. “What are you two doing?”

“He says he doesn’t care, so if he means it why not have both of us?” Joel growled, his thumb sweeping in over her jawline having her whimper. “It’s what you want, right? What you don’t get with me, you get with him and vice versa. So, take advantage of his offer.”

“The children are home,” she reminded both of them wondering if she was the only one that saw this as inappropriate.

“We’ll find ways to keep you quiet,” Negan captured her jaw between his thumb and index finger to bring her to kiss him. With a flick of his tongue over hers, Negan had her purring out against his lips. “So why don’t you just enjoy what it is that you really want.”

Both men were kissing over the sides of her neck having her heart rate skyrocketing with both a nervousness and want for them.

Just then, the sound of a car alarm went off eliciting a gasp from Y/N’s lips when she sat up in her bed. Letting out a tense breath, she realized that it was all a very realistic elaborate dream that her mind conjured up. The bed beside her was empty. She had spoken to Negan before bed, but he hadn’t come over.

Swallowing down hard, she dragged her hands down over the front of her face letting out a tense breath, “I can’t believe I just did that…”

If that car alarm hadn’t gone off, there was no question that she was about to have a sex dream where she was between both Joel and Negan. Reaching for her phone on the nightstand, she looked at the time and felt like the room was spinning around her.

Pulling herself up from the bed after letting her body calm down, she left her room. Taking a look around, the hallways were dark showing that everyone was still asleep. The ladder for the attic was still down which had her mind going to Joel. Moving up the steps of the ladder, she stopped when she reached the top.

Laid stretched out across the nook area of the attic was Joel deep in sleep with Peter laid out over his chest. Their loud breathing told her that they weren’t waking up anytime soon and truthfully? This was a sight that she actually liked. Even after a complicated dream like that, seeing the two of them this way warmed her heart.

Cautiously moving up into the attic, she unplugged the string lights to give them a break. Now the only light that was filtering into the room was from the stars and the moon from the outside. Which meant there wasn’t much light to filter throughout the attic that Joel had just finished for her. Thankfully there was a small light that she always had plugged in for the children when they would walk in the hallway to make sure they wouldn’t get hurt at night.

Stealing one more look at Peter and Joel together, she let out a long exhale. Leaving, she was careful to walk back down the ladder to the second floor back toward her bedroom. Laying back down, she thought about how realistic that dream was. It might have possibly been the most realistic one she ever had.

For some reason, her brain was doing a good job fucking with her lately and she didn’t know how to feel about it.

----

Tags: @chainsawsangel @fancypeacepersona @violent-darkness @negansbestie @elegantfanficluv

@sanctuaryforthelost @dead-of-niight @dilfsandmartinis @jennydehavilland

[kurogane2512]

Hello again~!

I have another Jade request. SFW and fluff, Jade taking care of injured female reader. As for the scenario... Their latest IPC deal with another planet goes awry, which leads to a battle. Reader gets hurt at one point, but she keeps it hidden until they get back to Pier Point. And when Jade finds out... She will not be happy. Her injury could be when she protected Jade (or not), entirely up to you. I just see Jade being caring and protective, and furious to whoever dares bring harm to her precious assistant. Would be rather sweet if the reader manages to calm her down, which would be a rather rare occurrence since Jade rarely loses her composure

And... that would be it for this request. Take your time. No rush! And thank you, Kuro, in advance if you decide to take this request :3

My Jade fever is back due to her rerun lol, this is so cute I totally agree she'd be really protective and internally angry seeing her beloved hurt ❤️

Game: Honkai Star Rail

Characters: Jade x fem!reader

Type: SFW, Fluff (secretary!reader, Jade taking care of your injured self, uhh slightly scary Jade?)

A deafening silence engulfed the meeting room you were currently seated in alongside Madam Jade, one of the Ten Stonehearts and a senior manager in the Strategic Investment Department of the IPC, and your boss. You were on a project for the IPC, your motive was simple enough- acquire the planet as an asset for the IPC. After deliberate consideration from the higher ups, the Strategic Investment Department was given the project and Diamond appointed Jade to head it without a second thought. After all, she was his most trusted for matters like this.

You were well-versed with Ms Jade's working style by now, it was no wonder why Diamond trusted her so much. As her secretary, you had gathered up all the necessary information on this planet to aid her in the negotiations and were now quietly waiting for the negotiations to begin. The representative of this planet was known to be a rather stubborn and crude man, often using trickery to have his way and abusing the citizens for his own gains. The IPC aimed to correct this and make the planet flourish.

"Well well, when I accepted this meeting, I didn't anticipate the IPC to send such a.... pleasing lady for my eyes to feast on. Didn't know they had women like you working there, o' great Madam Jade~" the man spoke with a sneer while eyeing Jade from head-to-toe, creepily staring at her body as she remained seated elegantly with one leg crossed over the other.

You couldn't believe the audacity he had to say such things to her, he must not be aware of who she truly is.

"Sir, I urge you to refrain from making such comments abo—"

"Yes yes, I know what you are going to say. You must be her loyal puppy, following her everywhere and obeying every order. Hahahah, what benefits do you get working for her? Does she make you please her in other ways?~ he continued in the same boorish tone.

You gritted your teeth and were desperately keeping your cool, knowing it was essential to make this project a success.

"Sir, you—!" you attempted to retort with a warning but were promptly stopped by your boss as her hand tapped your shoulder.

"That's enough, Y/n. I'll handle it from here." Jade spoke in a calm tone, a gentle yet devious smile lacing her face.

"Speaking of the benefits my subordinates get, how about discussing those as we had agreed upon?~"

Jade leaned forward on the table, resting her chin on her palm. You immediately understood what kind of strategy she was employing here and took a step back to let her have her way. The man seemed pleased with her reply and eagerly continued on the same page. His comments about her appearance didn't stop, not missing a chance to make downright creepy and abusive jokes. You were nearing the end of your patience at this rate, you couldn't tolerate to hear another disgusting word about Jade from him.

The meeting moved forward and you noticed how he was nonchalantly deflecting every condition the IPC wanted to impose. You didn't think he was actually smart enough to present counter arguments, but he certainly came prepared. Alas, to his dismay, he was facing Ms Jade. Had it been someone else, he may have had a chance of winning, but Ms Jade was unbeatable.

Sometime during the meeting, Jade secretly kept her hand on your thigh under the table and tapped twice with her index finger. Your eyes widened at her gesture; it was a code she had taught you which indicated danger. It meant this meeting wasn't going in the right direction, and Jade wanted you to be prepared for the worst. You pressed a button on your tablet which sent a warning to the guards stationed outside the room, alerting them to be prepared.

"See, Ms Jade, I understand your intentions well here and I'm impressed by what the IPC means to offer. But you must understand I'm simply not interested in handing over this planet to your greedy corporation. I know how you guys work and I have no intention of becoming just another pawn in your game." the man spoke in a cold tone, his expression turning serious.

Jade gave a simple smile, "Then, consider this as my final.... warning~"

Her brows suddenly furrowed, her tone changing drastically. She placed a file on the table and slid it to his side, gesturing him to take a look inside. With trembling hands, the man opened the file and found evidence of his illegal activitives along with pictures of his harrassment towards the citizens, even some showings of his private affairs. Everything was spelled out in bold for him, this was probably Jade's trump card against him- to back him off using his crimes and make him submit. No wonder she made no mention of his illegal activities during the negotiation otherwise.

"Well, have you come to a decision now?~" Jade probed him, the same devious smile back on her face. However, her hand didn't leave your thigh and you were sitting on the edge of your seat in anticipation.

The man gritted his teeth and threw the file across the room before abruptly standing up, his chair toppling back with a loud thud followed by him slamming his fist on the table angrily.

"You bitch! Get out of my planet! Take your greedy and vile corporation away from me! I'm not going to let you take anything!"

He shouted while pointing a gun at Jade then soon pulled the trigger. She watched the bullet approach and before she could move, you quickly reacted and came in front to shield her. The bullet flew in your arm and you expected it to be deflected by your armour but it instead hit the exposed part of your flesh and grazed by your suit. You hissed for a second feeling the bullet pierce; though, it did not embed deeply and was just a scratch you could easily handle.

However, his sudden outburst failed the negotiations. Within mere seconds, IPC soldiers burst in the room and surrounded everyone before making way to subdue the man but he had his own soldiers protecting him. Guns were pointed across the room at each other, a deafening silence once again engulfing the room but a clear air of tension and hostility hanging by. Among this, Jade remained calmly seated as ever then let out a sigh before standing up.

"What a shame.... This could have gone so peacefully if you listened."

She walked in between the IPC soldiers while holding up her cane and leisurely tapping it in her palm. She approached the frontline and peered down at the man with a knowing smirk, her icy blue eyes glowing as if she was ready to devour him.

"No matter, I have plenty of other ways to make you listen. Now, what was it you said about me? Ah right, shall I show you how I keep all these subordinates on a leash?~" she declared then swung the cane which extended into her whip and sent all the soliders flying away, instantly clearing the way to the man.

An eerie purple mist filled the room and surrounded the man, Jade walked closer to him cloaked in the mist and all he could see was a set of glowing blue eyes staring him down, followed by a snake-like figure appearing behind her. The next few moments happened in a blink as all he saw was the snake lunge at him then woke up to see himself tied up and being taken away by the IPC while Jade was nowhere to be seen. Jade may have had to resort to more extreme methods, but the project was still successful.

You were on your way back to the IPC's headquarters with Jade now, boarded on her private ship. She asked you to compile the final report to be sent over to Diamond and you agreed with no hesitation while she went to her room to rest. You went to your own room and removed the armour to finally take a look at the bullet wound on your arm. It was lodged on the surface of your skin, not too deep but still enough to hinder movement and cause pain. It was nothing you couldn't handle, but you had to be cautious.

The blood had been soaked by your uniform and the armour didn't let it be seen. You gathered the first-aid kit and carefully took out the bullet then wrapped a bandage around your arm, though it proved to be quite difficult to do alone with just one arm. Eventually, you were able to sufficiently patch yourselves then sat on the table to work on the report Jade asked. It was unfortunate that the wound happened on your writing arm since you were having difficulties making the report now, but you had enough time to complete it even at this slow pace.

Sometime passed as you were focused on the report and a knock was heard on your door, followed by a familiar voice calling your name.

"Y/n, it's me. I'm coming in."

"A-Ah, please do, Ms Jade!" you replied back and stood up to greet your superior.

Jade smiled at you as she walked in, her gentle smile instantly sending butterflies in your stomach.

"I came to take a look at the report in case you are having some issues." she said in a soft voice while stroking your cheek, a light blush appearing on your face.

"O-Oh, it's okay, you didn't need to. I can handle it...."

She moved near your desk and had a brief look at the report. She noticed how your writing was not as neat as usual, some words drawn a little messily but still good enough to be read and presented.

"Hm, good job. Take it easy, there's no need to rush."

She gently patted your arm as praise, a common action you were used to. However, she didn't expect to see you recoil your arm from her touch and let out a pained sound as if she hit you. She looked at the way you covered your upper arm with your other hand, the same place she had just touched, and became suspicious.

"What happened? Are you hurt?"

She stepped closer and attempted to pull away your hand to look at your arm but you insisted everything was fine.

"N-No, ma'am. I'm fine, that was just—"

"Don't lie to me." she interrupted your defiance, her tone sounding rather serious and you knew it was better to not hide it.

You slowly removed your hand as she wanted and let her see. She could make out a faint outline of a bandage wrapped underneath your sleeve and became more suspicious.

"Sit on the bed."

She ordered and you had no choice but to comply. You sat on the edge of the bed and she came to your side then started unbuttoning your shirt; you blushed from her sudden action but remained composed as you knew she simply wanted to see the injury. She helped pull of the shirt from one side and finally exposed your injured arm, her eyes widening for a moment at the unexpected sight.

"....Was it the bullet he shot that you protected me from?"

You hesitated to reply but eventually gave a nod. Jade stared at your arm for a moment, her fingers clenching the bedsheet underneath as an unusual anger rose in her. She then took a deep breath and gently touched your arm then proceeded to unwrap the bandage.

"You should have told me right away, look how messily this is wrapped. How did you even patch up by yourself? And, it seems you then even wrote the report.... Since when did my secretary become so stubborn and naughty, hm?~"

You averted your gaze, "No, I wasn't intending to.... It's not as bad as you think, I will be able to manage."

"Let me be the judge of that, shall we?~"

She removed the bandage and took a look at the exposed wound, a clear bullet mark was visible albeit not deep. She stared at it for a moment then brought out the first-aid kit and removed her glove before taking out the necessary medicines to treat the wound.

"The bleeding has stopped at least, but you didn't clean the area well enough. It doesn't seem like there's a broken bone and fortunately, it didn't hit a ligament either. No wonder you are still able to function this well." she commented while taking a cottonball and dipping it in saline solution.

"S-See, I told you it's okay—"

"But that doesn't mean this isn't a cause of concern and you can do whatever you please. You shall undergo a thorough examination once we are back; until then, you will only rest and not do any work."

"But, Ms Jade, I'm really fi— aah!"

You hissed in pain when she pressed the cottonball on the wound, a stinging sensation running through you due to the saline solution.

"This is an order. I trust you won't stoop to the level of disobeying orders now, will you?~" she said with a smirk.

"....Y-Yes, I understand."

"Good girl~"

You couldn't help but blush from the compliment, but the feeling was soon replaced by pain as she continued rubbing the saline-dipped cotton over the wound in gentle motions. You tried to stay still as much as possible, concealing your pained noises and groaning in place to let her do it properly. Seeing your pained cries, Jade came forward and softly blew on the wound every time she pressed the cotton. Feeling her warm breath was strangely soothing, your face turning red once again.

Once finished with cleaning the wound, she took out a fresh new set of bandages and carefully wrapped them around your arm. You were surprised seeing she was this skilled at medical dressing, you didn't really expect her to know this. Her movements were precise and the pressure just right, the bandage coiled around your arm in no time and was finished with an adorable little bow knot.

"There we go. Don't move your arm around unnecessarily, remember what you promised me just now." she said while helping you put the shirt back on and buttoned it up. She then placed the first-aid kit back in its place and washed her hands before coming to sit beside you again.

"Thank you, ma'am. I'm sorry to bother you...."

Jade sensed guilt in your voice, knowing well enough what you were implying. She smiled and extended her hands to cup your face then came closer to kiss your forehead, followed by dragging her lips down to kiss your cheek as well. You became flustered feeling the sensation of her soft lips on your face, your heart racing faster than ever.

"It'd be more appropriate for me to say that. Thank you for protecting me, and I apologize for putting you through this. I should have noticed the injury sooner."

You couldn't believe your ears; Ms Jade herself was thanking and apologizing to you. While she was always attentive to praise you for your job, you didn't really think she'd ever thank you, much less- apologize, for something.

"No ma'am, you don't need to. I was just doing my job, I'd do it as many times without a doubt."

Jade chuckled then wrapped one arm around your neck to embrace you, careful not to touch your injury. Her body pressed closely to yours and you felt a comforting warmth radiate from her, the feeling making you relax.

"I know, it is one of the oaths you take when joining the IPC, after all. Even so, I'd like to appropriately compensate you. Ask away, whatever you desire- I will ensure it is fulfilled."

Your eyes widened hearing her words, not expecting this kind of situation. There weren't many things you desired, and your deepest desire could never be fulfilled by her.

"Ma'am, there is no need for this. I genuinely mean it when I say I'd do it again as many times as I can, it has nothing to do with the oaths. I'd do it because.... um.... c-cause you are very important to me...."

You stuttered as you found it hard to find the right words to say without revealing your true feelings.

"....Therefore, I don't need any compensation. As long as I'm capable, I'll always be there for you."

Jade smiled to herself hearing your words, still continuing to embrace you but shifted closer and held you tighter. She knew your deepest desire long ago and was always waiting for the day you'd say it yourself, but it seemed like that day was farther than ever. She let out a sigh and moved back to gaze into your eyes before curling her lips into a smirk.

"Think about it again. Very few people get a chance to do such a generous exchange with me, you should not miss the opportunity when it's right in front of you~"

She teased as her thumb traced your lips with a mischievous look in her eyes. You smiled back and let out a small chuckle, "I don't think I have anything of equal value to give for such a benevolent offer~"

Her smirk widened and she brought her face near your ear, her warm breath brushing your lobe as she whispered, "I accept payment in any form. For this exchange, you have already made payment with your.... blood."

Shivers went down your spine at her sultry voice, your breathing becoming uneven as you felt her close proximity.

"How about.... settling a blood debt with blood?~"

You didn't understand what she meant, but her words made you fearful. You felt her hand that was wrapped around clench onto your shirt tightly, almost possessively.

"W-What? What do you mean, ma'am?"

Jade didn't reply and instead pulled away with a smile. Her hands cupped your face once again then she leaned in to kiss near the corner of your lips, so close that you felt she kissed your lips only.

"Rest well now." were her parting words as she stood up and left your room.

You remained motionless in place and pondered over the situation, you feared she was going to do something drastic but had no idea what. It would be futile to make her say it, she could conjure up numerous excuses to hide her intentions. For the rest of the journey, you remained cautious of Jade's movements but found her not doing anything out of the ordinary.

Perhaps she was just joking, you hoped.

For a few days after reaching Pier Point, you were once again working as usual and didn't have time to think about Jade's claim. Nothing different happened and she was acting her normal self. Until one day when you found yourself running all around the building in search for her but couldn't find her anywhere, you tried contacting her as well but received no response and became increasingly concerned.

"Where is she....? She didn't tell me her meeting was over and is nowhere to be found now. Even others don't know where she went..."

You pondered more about the possible places she could be and couldn't help but think back to her claim, you had a suspicion this was connected. In your chain of thoughts, you finally recalled one last place she could be in. It was essentially a secret room she had for herself, a place to 'discipline naughty children'- as she herself called it. You approached the hidden room and could already hear faint sounds of whimpering and cracking of her whip.

You took a deep breath and pushed the door open, your eyes immediately widening at the scene in front. There stood Jade, with a familiar man tied up in chains in front of her while she held her whip in hand. You were well aware of this.... method of hers, you had seen numerous IPC traitors being punished here. The man currently in front of her was none other than the representative of the planet you were at a few days ago.

You didn't hear anything about him after the project was concluded, you assumed he was either jailed or given some kind of responsibility to make up for his crimes. Though, you didn't know if this was a part of that....

"M-Ms Jade...." you called out to her in a trembling voice as you slowly walked closer.

Jade had been aware of your presence ever since you opened the door. She turned around to greet you with her usual smile, but you could sense some kind of sinister vibe from her.

"Ah, Y/n. Perfect timing. How is your injury now?~" she asked nonchalantly, acting as if everything was normal.

"....I'm fine. What are you doing here....?"

Jade chuckled, "As you can see, I'm disciplining an unruly property of ours. Diamond left it on me to see what to do with him, I decided he needs to be taught a lesson first~"

She grinned then turned towards the man again and walked closer to him while swinging her whip in hand.

"Remember what you said to us that day, hm?~" she probed in a silvery voice, whimpers coming out from the man. All he could reply was a string of apologies, and Jade responded by whipping him on the back. You recoiled when he let out a pained cry, numerous scars and whip marks adorning his body.

"Remember how you have treated the women on your planet thus far?~" she husked while circling around him and whipped him again, another cry of pain accompanied with apologies coming out of him.

"Remember.... what you did to the girl standing in front of you?~" she stopped behind him and whispered in his ear, a chill going down his body hearing her terrifying voice.

You became surprised hearing her words, your suspicion was confirmed.

Jade whipped him again then walked in front of him and held up his chin with her thumb and index finger, "Blood shall be repaid with blood~"

She smirked and you watched as she raised her arm to swing the whip. You could tell this was going to be a much harsher swing, purple mist started surrounding her and you could make out the silhouette of her snake behind. Your body moved on its own before you knew it and you swiftly embraced her from behind, stopping her in place.

"Wait, ma'am! Please don't! You don't have to do this!"

You pleaded to her, trying to cease her actions.

"Step back, Y/n, I don't want you to be caught up in the arc." Jade replied in a cold voice, looking at you over her shoulder.

"No, please wait! You don't need to go this far!"

"This is not just about your injury, Y/n. There are various other crimes hanging on his head, unrestrained desires left unchecked. It's time for him to pay the equivalent price."

"This is not the right way, is it?! You know better than anyone how to gauge the correct price, this cannot be it!"

Jade remained silent and clenched her whip tightly, you could see her fist trembling before she loosened it and kept it away. You never imagined she'd get this angry over a simple injury her secretary got, you didn't imagine she could get angry at all.

"I-I'm sorry, ma'am. This is my fault, I shouldn't have hid it from you. I just didn't want you to worry and waste time over a trivial matter...." you said in a sombre voice, tears welling up in your eyes.

She turned around in your embrace and cupped your face, pulling it up to look into your eyes as her fingers wiped your tears.

"It is not a trivial matter if it involves you. You should know that I won't tolerate any harm coming to you. You are my most precious gem, someone I have polished with all my heart and soul. Any kind of stain is unacceptable."

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at her words, a light blush forming on your face.

"I understand.... I will be more careful myself. Thank you so much for.... um.... e-everything."

Jade smiled at your response then pressed a kiss on your forehead.

"Well, this means that our exchange is still valid. My offer stands as it is, ask for anything you desire and I will fulfil it. The payment is already taken care of, I deem it equivalent for your wish~"

You blushed more and averted your gaze out of embarrassment, "C-Could I be given some time to think about it?"

"Certainly, but I expect an answer soon. Don't keep me waiting now~" She playfully tapped your nose before chuckling.

You realized soon after you were still holding her in your arms and had her pressed to your body, feeling even more embarrassed of your actions now.

"Ah, I-I'm sorry—!" you quickly let go of her and stepped back, chanting apologies.

Jade grinned at your flustered state then stepped closer and grabbed your tie to pull you closer. The next moment, the most serene feeling overtook you as you realized she just kissed you. Her soft lips touched yours in a gentle peck, staying long enough to make you feel it yet pulling away just when you wanted more. You stood speechless and frozen in place, unable to believe what just happened.

"That should make it easier for you to say your wish now, my darling~"

[restlessmaknae]

crush into you // myung jaehyun

When you literally crush into Jaehyun on your way to an interview, the boy manages to spill iced coffee on your blouse. That's how you end up wearing his own blazer to the interview to cover up the spot, and the rest is history.

➳ Characters: uni student!Jaehyun x uni student!female reader/you

➳ Genre: meet cute, slice of life, uni au, fluff

➳ Words: 3k

➳ Warning: mentions of foods

➳ A/N: This story had the second most votes in my recent poll, so here it is. I'm really enjoying their comeback, so it was very easy to write a story about Jaehyun. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! ❤️

➳ Taglist: @s00buwu, @dat-town

Your days were carefully planned out with written to-do lists, calendar apps filling up your phone, and multiple scenarios made up with every plan that you might have. Just like today when you were about to go to an assessment centre as part of a job interview: a 3-hour selection process with an hour of group work, an hour of one-on-one interview with the hiring manager alongside an HR specialist and an hour for individual tests. You planned out when to leave the flat, when to get on the bus, which bus to take in case you didn’t manage to get on the exact bus you wanted and when you could possibly leave your neighbourhood the latest in order to still get to the company in time.

Myung Jaehyun’s days, on the other hand, were a hot mess. He was frequently running late from classes, group work meet-ups and dance practices, high on adrenaline and energy drinks. No one blamed him because the moment he flashed a smile, it was game over for them. Taesan might have given him a bombastic side eye for such a comment, but it was rare that anyone really reprimanded Jaehyun for being a bit too hyper, a bit too all over the place and a bit of a kid at times.

So when you literally crushed into him as you turned a corner towards the company and he was running around with his iced coffee in hand, trying not to be late from a class, on his part, the collision wasn’t that unexpected.

On your part though, it totally was.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so so sorry,” the boy exclaimed first things first just at the same time as you started apologising to him, but when you felt an odd cold sensation around your abdominal area, you immediately looked down at your white blouse, your lips parting in disbelief.

“Oh nooo,” you pouted, looking at the brownish spot on your white blouse caused by his coffee, multiple scenarios crossing your head as to how to fix this. You didn’t have enough time to go back to your flat to change, you weren’t familiar with the area, so you didn’t know whether they had a clothes shop around, and you didn’t know whether trying to get the stain out would only make it worse and the spot more noticeable or not.

“Oh. My. Gosh. I’m so… very… sorry,” the stranger reacted more dramatically than you would have thought so, all wide eyes and exasperated expression tinting his otherwise boyish features, messy jet-black locks falling into his eyes. As opposed to your business casual style - white blouse with black cotton pants and high-heeled sandals -, he looked more like a sophisticated yet fashionable guy around campus with his burgundy sports shoes, leather pants, a simple white tee, a black blazer and multiple accessories crowning the look from rings on his fingers to necklaces gracing his skin. You couldn’t have looked any different at that moment.

“I’ll make it up, I promise. Are you in a hurry, are you heading somewhere?” He asked nevertheless, his puppy eyes also in contrast to his whole appearance.

“Well, yeah, I’m going for a job interview. I’ll have to be there in 15 minutes, and it’s still like a 5-minute walk from here.”

“Oh no, that’s not good,” he shook his head, and with the hand that didn’t hold the half-empty cup of the rest of his coffee, he scratched the back of his neck. He bit down on his lower lip, clearly in deep contemplation, and you were about to end this whole conversation when his actions made you freeze on the spot. In a whirlwind moment of events, he threw his cup into a nearby trash can, got a tissue out of his pocket to clean his hand that the coffee also spilled onto and slid the blazer off himself to reach it out to you. “Here, take this. It might be a bit big on you, but it will cover up the spot nicely, and I think it will go well with your outfit.”

“But…”

“Please, take it. I don’t really know what else to do right now, and you have a job interview in 15 minutes, and I’m terribly sorry, and I don’t want you to mess it up because of me. So it might be worth a try? I don’t know, I just…” The boy kept talking on and on, his voice cheery yet also filled with guilt, and seeing his puppy eyes shining with genuine care, you didn’t have the heart to say no. What could possibly go wrong about trying it on either way?

“I was about to say that it’s actually a pretty smart idea,” you pointed out as you reached out for the blazer, and the boy’s face lit up fully when you complimented him. He flashed you a wide, toothy grin, his smile pushing his lips closer to his eyes, so much that his eyes almost disappeared while he was smiling at you.

The boy even offered to hold your bag while you put the blazer on, and since it had two buttons on the bottom, it allowed you to fully cover up the spot as if it had never been there. He was right though, it was big on you, but oversized was in fashion these days, right?

“Oh my gosh, it really does fit you,” he pointed it out in a similarly excited manner as before, and you smiled back at him, forgetting for a moment why you had even been wearing his clothes. Just for a moment though, you were back to your planning self within a second.

“Thanks for your help, but I really need to go now. Would you give me your number, so I can give it back to you later on?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” he said as he fished his phone out of his pocket to exchange contacts with you. As you locked your screen after saving his number, you looked up at him, into his shining jet-black orbs, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Gosh, your days were always so planned out, plan Bs and Cs tucked into your mind with every scenario that you could imagine, yet this, this was exactly the kind of thing you could not prepare yourself for. No wonder you were awfully unprepared for what to say.

Luckily, he was the one who woke up from his stupor first as he announced:

“Let me know how the interview goes. Good luck! You’ve got this!” He cheered you on as he threw his balled fists into the air, and off he went, the picture of his wide, toothy smile and his shining eyes difficult to forget even if you had more important things to concentrate on.

You agreed on meeting at a café a few days later. Those few days were enough for you to wash and dry clean the blazer, and to get a gift bag, so you could give it back to the boy (Jaehyun based on his KKT ID) in a presentable manner. You were supposed to be early for your agreed meet-up as you made your way to the café 10 minutes earlier, but you already found Jaehyun sitting at a corner table, scrolling through his phone and occasionally laughing out loud at whatever he was watching.

Jaehyun was not supposed to be early for your agreed meet-up, but given your well-prepared state the last time you had met, he started wondering where you could be at 15:15 when he had thrown himself into the café, totally panicked that you must have already been sitting there. Only to realise upon checking your messages with you that you had actually agreed on meeting at 15:30, meaning that he was actually 15 minutes early, not 15 minutes late. Not too bad for someone like him though.

So when you walked up to him and your voice dragged him out of his mindless scrolling, he flashed a wide smile at you, the one that had been engraved into your memories since your first encounter.

“Hey! Have you been waiting for a long time?” You inquired curiously as you hopped down on the chair on the opposite side of the table. Jaehyun let out a semi-embarrassed chuckle, one that made you furrow your eyebrows in question, although the smile was still playing on your lips.

“Well, that’s a funny story,” he started with a scratch on his neck before he continued with the story. “I thought… no, I was convinced that we were supposed to meet at 15:00, and so, I was fashionably late as usual. You know how I said that I’m usually late, but I’ll try my best to come on time. When I didn’t see you here at 15:15 when I got here, I checked our conversation on KKT, and it turns out we were supposed to meet at 15:30, so I was 15 minutes early.”

“Oh my gosh,” you couldn’t hold back your laughter as you were listening to his explanation, and the way he told the story made everything ten times funnier. He used wide hand gestures while speaking, and he played with his tone to deliver the parts of the story even more clearly. The boy laughed at himself too, so it didn’t feel weird laughing at his antics, something so unlike yours.

After pulling yourself together, you gave him the bag with the clean blazer, yet, he insisted that you shouldn’t have cleaned it yourself and bought a gift bag for him in which you delivered it. Hearing that, you insisted that crushing into him was partly your fault, and he did save you from having to sit though the 3-hour selection process with a visible coffee-stain on your blouse, so this was the least you could do. Plus, even though you didn’t say it out loud, you found it cute how he had asked about your interview afterwards on KKT (what position it was for, what company it was and how it went), and how delighted he had been when you had told him that you think you had done well. He had sent some encouraging memes in return (like the kid with his balled fists and a determined face), and just the thought that pretty much a stranger like him could be so happy and cheer you on eased your frazzled nerves post-interview.

You ordered your drinks while he was asking about your days and how you had been since you had last met. That’s when your phone buzzed, and seeing the company’s name on the screen that you had interviewed for, you immediately reached for it. Swiftly, you unlocked your screen and opened the message, only to let out a little bit of a squeal when you saw that you had gotten in.

“Oh my god, what is it?” Jaehyun asked, and his confusion was written all over his features when you looked up from your phone.

“I’ve got the internship! I’ve got in!”

Immediately, the boy’s features softened, and his lips pulled into a genuine, wide smile that could outdo the sun, his jet-black orbs twinkling with joy.

“Wow, congrats! That’s so cool!” He beamed, practically as excited as you, and clapped his hands enthusiastically. You could see from the corner of your eyes that you got some stares from the people nearby, but you couldn’t care less in your state. Finally, you landed an internship offer! “It’s totally the blazer’s doing though,” Jaehyun added cheekily, his smile turning into a crooked, almost cocky one.

“Yeah, totally, me and your emotional support blazer against the world,” you replied in a similarly teasing tone, and let out a laugh at the same time as the boy did. Gosh, who would have thought that you would meet him for the first time on the day you interviewed for the company, and you would meet him again when you were notified of your result?

Maybe he was really your lucky charm.

“You gotta celebrate though. Let’s order cake! I think I saw some cakes on the menu, and before you object, it’s on me,” the boy announced matter-of-factly, and grabbed a menu from a nearby empty table. You shook your head, seeing his pumped up state, since you couldn’t believe that he was so supportive of you. After all, you had barely met a week ago, and still, he acted as if you had always known each other, and it warmed your heart.

In the end, you did order some cakes (and you let Jaehyun pay for them), and while you were munching on them, you talked… and talked… and talked some more since it seemed that you could never run out of things to share. First and foremost, Jaehyun always had a story to share - mostly chaotic, yet partly cute ones -, and even if he didn’t, he always asked about your side, and it was just so easy to talk to him. Usually, you needed some time to open up to people, but he made talking to him feel so easy, so light, so comfortable.

Your favourite was when he insisted that he looked like a wolf, and pouted when you agreed with all his friends who said that he looked more like a puppy. When you added that if not a puppy, you saw him as a bunny, he perked up because that was the first time he heard about it. Never have you ever thought that a boy like him could get so specific about the animal he resembled, but you let him talk about it all he wanted to see those eyes shining so bright, to see that smile stretching so wide.

You packed up only when the waitress came by to tell you that you were nearing closing hours, and if that wasn’t a sign that you did lose track of time beside him, you had no idea what could indicate it more that beside him, you wanted to stop time, not wait for it to go by faster.

You had one crush in your whole life, and that had been when you had been 12, and the new kid had entered your class, and he had sat beside you. Said kid had turned out to be a total nutcase when he had opened his mouth, and you had officially dropped your crush 3 weeks into the new school year, and ever since then, you had never felt butterflies in your stomach, let alone declare your love for someone.

Until him.

Jaehyun had too many crushes in his life to count. His heart was just as erratic as his life, and it’s not that he was playing with others’ feelings, it’s more like he had too much love and joy to give others, but they didn’t always appreciate it. He fell in love easily, only to have his heart broken even more easily because his crushes had never liked him back.

Until you.

At first, you didn’t know if he felt the same way because he seemed so casual, you found it hard to believe that he could see you as more than a friend.

At first, he didn’t know if you felt the same way because you seemed so cool, so put together, he found it hard to believe that you could see him as more than a friend with his very different (and very chaotic) self.

Then, you started picking up on the signs: the way he showed you his dance practice routines to ask for your opinion when it was just the two of you at the dance studio he attended; the way he was ever so oblivious to the barista girl at a café because he only had eyes for you; the way he always asked about your day on KKT and sent memes to match your mood; the way he remembered every little thing - the date of your first 1-on-1 with your manager during your internship or when you would go to the dentist - despite telling you that his memory was terrible, and when he sent you photos of clothes that he thought you would like when he was shopping.

Then, he started picking up on the signs: the way you always gave him a detailed feedback on his choreographies when he asked you to even though you said you didn’t know anything about dance; the way you totally didn’t want to acknowledge that a guy was trying to flirt with you when you went to the cinema together and said that you were with Jaehyun as if to signal that there was no room for anyone else (his heart did a thing there, he couldn’t lie); the way you always knew what to say when he doubted himself or he was under the weather and sent him songs to make him feel better; the way you remembered every little thing - his favourite colour, the brand of his favourite snack and the plushies he wanted to win in the arcade game -, and how you kept bringing up his emotional support blazer because this was your little joke, this was your little thing.

No wonder this was how he confessed: buying you the exact same blazer in your size, and saying that you could think of it as your own emotional support blazer from now on or a couple item, you could choose.

And you would be foolish not to choose the latter.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think!

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for BOYNEXTDOOR or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

TWST Cast - Fidgets/Stims/Self-Regulation

I needed something simple to write to feel like I'm. we're not actually gonna get into that, anyways, enjoy.

TW: Some of these are NOT healthy/borderline SH, but there's nothing graphic, it's just some folks don't know What's Wrong and only know how to make themselves focus via some sort of (minor) physical pain.

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

Heartslaybul

Riddle - had to mask around his mother, said his stims (bouncing his leg, and kinda just. shaking his pen? you know what I mean, like between two fingers and you just let it bounce?) made him look mentally unwell (🙄), unruly and undisciplined. Totally not projecting At All So he rarely stims in public when he's trying to focus, though during testing periods and in the safety of his own room he tends to let himself (subconsciously) stim. He also chews on his bottom lip a lot, but not enough that it was ever noticed by his mother. (Floyd gifts him a fidget ring sometime in the future and he's surprised at how well it works for him) He also loves compression but has yet to discover it.

Trey - He doesn't stim a whole lot, but even in game we know that he tends to touch/readjust his glasses when he feels awkward/about to join a conversation or make a point he's being a bit of a smart alec about. Usually when he's really stressed, (which takes quite a bit to get him there), he'll excessively wash his hands with cold water.

Cater - has a lot of caffeine, so for the most part, his impulses to stim aren't there. That being said, when anxiety comes to kick him in the butt, usually just listening to music and tapping out the rhythm of the guitar with his finger against his thigh is enough to help him out, usually while keeping the beat by tapping his foot or bobbing his head at the same time. (usually some soft rock or pop music) When he's REALLY like. needs to get emotions out but can't because he doesn't like being vulnerable he makes himself eat unbearably hot (spicy) food and insists that he likes it even as he is Crying and Sniffling because. then he can write it off to the spice and not the fact he's dying inside. (Don't do this please sdlkjfhlksdjf) Sometimes he also stims by making popping noises, but he doesn't even recognize that he does this, because usually it's just when it's him and Trey in the room, and Trey isn't bothered by it. "Like" and "Really" are both stim words for him too.

Deuce - He's still learning to self-regulate! He knows that shouting helps him get everything out, but in the moment he sometimes struggles. He's still trying out different techniques. As for stims/fidgets Deuce doesn't really have any? Well he does, but he doesn't act on them when he needs to focus since One Incident early on in life when he found out that his fidgets make noise (he's deaf as a part of my HC and didn't get hearing aids until he was like 5-6) and he hates to be a bother to anyone else. On top of that, I think he has a slight auditory processing disorder, so he has a tendency to repeat things back to people, just to make sure he's understood correctly once his brain has caught up to their words. He doesn't know it yet, but compression will help him Calm Down when needed.

Ace - Whistling/noise imitation in general, bouncing his leg, pen tapping, etc. this guy has ADHD but thank the Seven for his older brother who was patient and gentle with him when he was younger. When Ace struggles to focus, he tends to just shuffle a deck of cards, he likes the way they feel. In the rare occasion that he chooses to study, he usually does so while shuffling the cards/practicing a magic trick at the same time because the Physical task during the Mental task makes the Mental task more interesting. He also uses music as a means of self-regulation. (Usually classic rock).

Savannaclaw

Leona - His emotional regulation is out to lunch and the closest he gets to stimming is his tail flicking. It could be argued that the feeling of his blankets is Nice To Him but idk man. Catnip helps with regulation? Idk. Sure.

Ruggie - Idk are we counting his tail wagging as a stim? technically it could be considered one, right, it's a subconscious physical response to happiness? Ruggie also tends to chew on his lip when he's focusing, but his teeth are sharper than Riddle's so it often draws blood and he rarely notices. Sometimes he's kinda hit with just a Wave of what the fuck am I doing with my life? and just needs to rub something soft (Usually Leona's laundry bc it's more luxurious than anyone else's), a little bit to try and recenter himself. If that doesn't work he just tries to work himself to a point of exhaustion so he can ignore the Bad Feelings. This rarely works and he ends up calling his grandma by the end of it just to ask her to leave the phone on speaker so he can hear the chaos and rough and tumble of home. At the end of the phone call his grandma sings to him bc she knows full well what's going on and the sense of familiarity is enough to help Ruggie feel less restless. This boy also loves compression. Also, rolling with the idea that he got to keep the trumpet from the port fest event and started teaching it to himself, during the day/when he's bored he practices tonguing+breathing excercises/patterns (don't be weird about this I stg) or buzzing with or without his mouth piece. Also chews on his nails a lot. I feel like eventually someone gifts him one of those chew necklaces and he loves it but his bite force accidentally damages it much sooner than it should have been so then that same person gets one commissioned specifically to withstand a hyena's bite force and it's the best gift he'll have ever gotten (besides a wad of cash but yknow)

Jack - I mean besides his tail wagging...there isn't much else? For emotional regulation, he tends to just go running if he needs something to focus on. Music also helps sometimes, but it's specifically classical and he just sits in bed and listens to it in his comfiest clothes bc. unlike SOME people he will listen to his body and mind and rest when necessary.

Octavinelle

Azul - Him? Stim? Never. /J He masks a lot mostly because he knows that stimming can come off as anxious, and that's the last thing he wants when he's trying to be convincing to someone else, or really, in front of the twins. That being said, alone in his office he twirls his pen a lot, and late nights/Anxiety Times leads to him tugging on that strand of hair that's longer than the rest as a means of staying focused and in the moment. He thinks he can't be vulnerable in front of the twins but honestly they pick up on his anxiety so easily, they both know compression helps him out. Jade is generally touch repulsed, so usually Floyd takes it upon himself to Flop on Azul's back while he's working. Azul will sometimes imitate playing chords on the piano, on his desk for the same reason Ace plays with cards. He also finds himself stress eating sometimes which does nothing good for his self-esteem.

Jade - Also Masks A Lot. It would take someone he trusts even more than his own twin that would ever get to see him act on his impulses. Otherwise we would see Jade with the happy flappies (though I feel like he would keep his hands in fists instead). However, when things are Bad, Jade does one of two things, both of which are done in a locked bathroom. 1. Fill the sink with cold water and dunk his head in without switching to his mer form. 2. Rolls up his sleeves and bites himself. Just once is usually enough to get him out of it. He also finds the whole. Cleaning out the wound and wrapping himself pretty relaxing. He has not considered just using a tensor bandage yet to self regulate, eventually Floyd will find out wtf he's doing and suggest That instead. Jade will sometimes unmask just enough to rock slightly side to side or back and forth/up on his tiptoes and back down bc he can make it fit with his whole 'I'm innocent baby' kinda facade he pulls sometimes sdlkfjhslkdjf Also tends to need a completely silence space when he's overstimulated.

Floyd -WHOOOOOWEEE babes you already know he is STIM central WHOOT WHOOT he's got the happy flappies, he's got the leg bouncy, he's got the clicky pen, he's got the 'I gotta touch something squishy' need, etc. etc. HOWEVER sometimes he's got the Bad Stims, like he cannot focus on anything, nothing is being retained, he feels over and understimulated at the same time, nothing feels Good, he doesn't feel hungry, he wants Nothing to do with anyone, his leg is bouncing, he's kinda just stabbing his pencil repeatedly into the table and he KNOWS he should focus but just can't- and then Lilia introduces him to metal music and it's like Wow. Everything is better. It has to be blasting, but now Floyd has a means of dealing with That Feeling whenever it rolls around. Also it HAS to be over the ear headphones because of the compression and Friendly Squishy Texture of the parts that cover his ears. Makes him feel better in less than ten minutes, it's a win-win for everyone except he can never remember the name of the band, so he almost always tracks down Lilia to demand (ask) for a reminder and Lilia just almost always has his headphones and phone on hand so just Gives them to Floyd while he goes through Floyd's phone and curates a playlist for him and finds his exact headphones on the equivalent of Amazon so Floyd can order them. Floyd in general, when listening to music, tends to imitate whatever his favourite part of the song is, whether it's the bass line, guitar, drums, keyboard, lyrics, etc. and will switch between various parts as he sees fit. This also means it's not uncommon to hear Floyd essentially beatboxing as a stim method as well. Floyd also snaps his fingers a lot, he likes spinning things on his fingers (be it as innocent as a key chain or dangerous as scissors), and also imitates people a lot. He doesn't always intend to, but like. If he is talking to someone with an accent, he accidentally IMMEDIATELY takes on that accent and finds it funny because he literally can't stop himself. Idk if anyone else has this issue but dear god as someone more anxious than Floyd this has lead to a lot of awkward situations for me bc I have to CONSCIOUSLY not speak in whatever accent my brain is trying to make me take on.

Scarabia

Kalim - ALSO stim central, though his tend to be in response to happiness. He tends to parrot people a lot, beatboxes/makes noise, happy wiggles, snaps his fingers,lots of different kinds of taps, and has happy flappies. He has some. Not so good regulatory practices as well, but when he's overwhelmed he tends to rock back and forth, or ...like. Idk really how to describe it, but he taps his hand against his chest really fast, but it's like in a claw shape so after a few times it starts to hurt a little? because of his finger nails?? idk how else to describe it. He knows better than to do it in front of Jamil though. Music tends to overwhelm him when he's already overstimulated so he ends up putting headphones on just to try and block out the noise. White noise doesn't help, he just wants it to be as quiet as possible.

Jamil - Stims more than people realize, because his stims are naturally more subtle. When Kalim comes to 'bother' him in the kitchen, he keeps himself as focused and relaxed as possible by balancing on one foot at a time, to give himself something to think about besides the 'unwelcome' invasion. When he's studying, he flips his hood up and is constantly rubbing the fabric close to his face and has a bit of a leg bounce. He also uses music as a means of regulation, usually something with a lot of syncopation. Jamil also keeps his hand in a fist and bumps it against his side sometimes when he's trying to stay focused in a conversation.

Pomefiore

Vil - He doesn't really stim all that much, but on days he doesn't feel himself/bad anxiety/PTSD is getting to him, he washes his hands with burning hot water. He knows it's not good. And his hands are super sensitive afterwards. But it stops him from spiraling and that's all he needs. He takes care of them properly afterwards and will make sure to wear his gloves.

Rook - I kinda HC Rook with OCD. Most of his stims are his methods of coping with any sort of dirt or germs, perceived or otherwise. He hates not wearing his gloves, (of which he has different pairs for different Places), but in the event he can't have them on for whatever reason, or a task will be more efficiently done without them, he washes his hands until they're raw because then he can be sure that layer of skin that was in Contact isn't there. Rook regulates with scents a lot too, whether it be the perfume Neige/Vil uses or rooibos tea that his sister used to make for him.

Epel - Idk if gesticulation counts as stimming, but he does it a lot, just not in front of Vil dslkfjhksdjf. I feel like it's only really around Deuce that he feels comfortable doing his happy stomps, though for the hometown event he likely doesn't mask much so other people get to see it too. As much as Epel hates being called short, he likes the fact if he sits back far enough in his chair he can kick his feet without touching the floor sljdfhlksjd. He also tends to grind his teeth.

Ignihyde

Idia - He has SO MANY homemade fidgets but he gets tired of them really quickly so he ends up putting them in the scraps lab of Ignihyde. He likes clicking sounds a lot, (go figure /lh), and ASMR. In the (horrific) event he has to leave his room, usually he tries to keep his anxiety at bay via rubbing the ridges on his sweater, playing/rubbing at his hands/wrists in the pouch pocket of his sweater or rocking a bit, though he hates doing that bc it draws attention to him sometimes. If he does end up overstimulated in a Bad Way or anxious, he tends to pick at his lips/chew on his fingernails.

Ortho - Baby!! He tends to mimic other people's stims when they look fun! He does do happy trills/beeps now and then of his own volition and it's Adorable. He will also do them when he feels like cussing sldkfhlksjd Ortho also claps when he's happy, and if he has his boosters on might even do a little flip. As a treat. When he does need emotional regulation, he knows compression helps so he just asks big brother for a hug. 10/10.

Diasomnia

Malleus - Doesn't stim a whole lot...nor does he really emotionally regulate, though I feel like. For some reason he really likes (cloud) slime as a fidget. Like, he doesn't need it in order to regulate anything, but he finds the texture and sound pleasing. He does sometimes repeat other people to process information. I do think he would be more prone to stimming when he's more dragon than humanoid.

Lilia - Obviously uses music to regulate, bc he did it for Floyd, but he also uses his turning upside down and feeling all the blood rush to his head as a method of getting his brain out of a bad spot. Lilia does also have a chew necklace that he uses now and then, but other than that, he rarely gets overstimulated or needs a distraction. He just likes chewing sldjfhslkjdf he does help Sebek and Silver self regulate though

Silver - He doesn't stim a whole lot, but when he was younger he used to have a lot of nightmares. Usually Lilia would help him through it with breathing exercises, but if he was too panicked to focus on that he would get a few pieces of ice and wrap it in a cloth towel so as to protect him from it hurting. The cold would distract Silver enough to stop crying as hard, and then both Lilia and Silver would hold an ice cube in their hands until Silver didn't want to anymore and they could practice their breathing. Every now and then, Silver still goes to the freezer at night just to hold ice in both hands until he's calmed himself down from a particularly bad dream or anxiety just eating at him.

Sebek - Refuses to believe he stims. However, he acknowledges the ice trick does help him refocus when he finds that he isn't able to on his own. He doesn't realize he grinds his teeth or that staring at a fan actually helps him calm down. Also Lilia bought him a lava lamp and it also helps stop the overwhelming Feelings he has sometimes.

Others

Che'nya - picks at his skin a lot. He knows it's not good but he can't help it there are Textures There He Doesn't Want but also Feel Funny on his fingers. He tends to self-regulate simply by purring or scratching himself/getting someone else to scratch behind his ears. He also tends to put things in his mouth without much thought behind it. All his pencils have bite marks. He has probably eaten like 30 erasers by this point by accident. He also really likes smells, usually freshly baked bread to help regulate, which is why he sometimes comes to 'invade' Heartslaybul is just to chill in the kitchen while Trey bakes to help him tune out any bad feelings he has. Every once in a while, he'll use catnip to deal with anxiety, but Neige usually intervenes before then and like. Puts on one of those fish videos for cats. Che'nya loves them more than he would like to admit. He also carries a ball of yarn because he likes how soft it is and he can fidget with it when he needs to.

Jack T. - Almost the exact same stims as his little brother, but he masks a lot because he Had To when he was growing up. He's just glad that he was able to provide a space for Ace to be able to express himself the way he needed to.

Najma - She also stims in a fairly subtle way. She usually has a scarf on her that's a soft material that she rubs as a means of regulation, like some sort of silk, she likes the smooth texture. She has 10 hour versions of her favourite song, (whatever it may be) on her playlist. (Jamil does NOT understand this whatsoever, how Najma can stand to listen to something that long does not make sense to him sdlfhlkjsf) She also has a hand cream she carries with her everywhere because she likes the smell of it.

Neige - He has a lot of anxious bouts and PTSD that he can usually mask, but he's almost always rubbing his wrist gently, humming, singing or whistling. He kinda figures if he's always making a noise of some kind, nobody will pick up on what lies underneath. When he does have a full blown panic attack, he has breathing exercises he works through that work for him. He also journals a lot.

Extra

Vizzie - Rubs her wrist where her vambrace ends, tugs at her hair when she's borderline dissociative to help keep her in the present, and when she's really feeling. not great? She eats ice with salt on it. It's the burning sensation that helps her focus on Just That and nothing else. Once Cater introduces her to caffeine as a stimulant it does help with a lot of her ADHD-like tendencies, but listening to music with over the ear headphones helps too. When she doesn't want to. you know. punish herself with salted ice, she just has Ice but she has to let it sit until it's the Right Texture. And you might be like. Hey. This sounds like an amalgamation of A Lot of things from above. Guess what babyyyy most of those stims ^^^ are things I do too. And Vizzie is basically. An AU version of myself. Guess what I was doing that made me wanna write this post? slkdjfhslkjdf that's right doing a shitty job at self regulation but hey, writing it out made me Feel Better WOOOO yeah Later on in the Canon story she ends up being more comfortable showing happy stims. When she's listening to music, she often ends up doing the same thing as Cater with the rhythms of the guitar line being tapped out. (bc I gave him my stim wooo I'm taking it back for her lsdkjfhlksjdf)

Anyways. I'm surprised I finished this in one sitting. Must be the caffeine.

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@fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain