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motorsportbarbie13 · 17 days ago

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One New Voicemail (Jenson's Version)

your relationship with jenson as told through voicemails

(i'm aware jenson doesn't have twin girls but he does in this. also potential trigger warning for boss/employee relationship? age gap as well. thank you to @lestapiastrisgirl for encouraging my daddy issues with this one <3)

His Daughter Is Sick

“Hey, it’s Jenson.” He pauses, a breathy chuckle cracking over the line.

“You know that, caller ID and all. Sorry, I’m scattered.” He shakes his head. He’s scattered because calling you is always a nerve-racking experience.

Jenson can’t quite explain why you make him nervous. You’d been working for him for almost a year now, nannying for his twin girls Gracie and Molly but it was like he was brand new at this whole ‘interacting with a pretty girl’ thing. Which was total bullshit. He was Jenson Button, for crying out loud. And you were the NANNY for fucks sakes.

“I know it’s your day off and you already work so hard with the girls and I appreciate all that you do for them…” Another pause, a quick breath before he pushes it a bit more.

“And for me too.” The words hang in the air, like he’s testing the waters.

You’re always willing to take on more with the girls. Saying yes to anything Jenson asks of you. He feels the guilt that comes along with needing someone, but you never make him feel like a burden.

“But Gracie is sick, the school just called.” Desperation is back in his voice. He’s panicking, you can hear it in how quick the words tumble out of his mouth. He loves his girls more than anything, you know that. Know how hard it is for him to ask for help.

“She has a fever and it’s my week so Mallory is saying this is on me,” Frustration edges into his voice, when he speaks about his ex. She’s nice enough but there’s something about the way she shirks off her parenting responsibilities when she knows you’re around that rubs you the wrong way.

“But I’m in London today so I’m at least an hour away, I wasn’t planning on needing to be back until pickup. Can you go pick Gracie up?”

You know how hard that question is for him to ask. How he hates depending on you. You don’t mind. The girls mean everything to you.

And so does Jenson.

“I’m leaving the city now so you won’t have to give up too much of your evening.” To punctuate his point, you hear a car door slam in the background. An engine firing up.

“I’m sorry. I feel like I’m always asking you to help bail me out. I’m really shit at this whole single dad thing, aren’t I?”

You made a mental note to remind Jenson how well he was doing. You knew it probably wound’t make much of of an impact. You were only 25, no kids of your own but you knew the girls. You knew Jenson. You knew how well he was doing with them.

“I appreciate your help…for everything you’re willing to do for the girls. For me.” He sighs, knowing full well there’s more he wants to say.

So much more.

“You’re a Godsend, really. I hope you know how much the girls love you. How much you mean to them.”

How much you mean to me, he nearly says. The words are on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill like a forbidden confession. But that would be wildly inappropriate.

Wouldn’t it?

“Okay. Please let me know if you can swing by and pick Gracie up.” Jenson shakes his head.

“Bye.”

Click.

It’s Late and He’s Tired

“Hey.” Jenson’s voice is low and raspy, a direct result of spending the weekend in Austria commentating for Sky Sports.

Your heart squeezes at the exhaustion edging into his voice. The moment hear how tired Jenson sounds, you get up from the couch and put the kettle on, wanting to have his favorite peppermint team steeped and ready for him when he gets home.

It’s beyond your nannying duties. You know that. But you can’t help your desire to not only take care of the girls but to take care of Jenson as well.

“I just landed at Heathrow. I should be home in the next hour or so, depending on how bad traffic is. Hopefully the girls went down good for you. I’m sure they did, they always do. They adore you.”

His girls weren’t the only ones either.

“Thank you again for agreeing to stay overnight with them for this trip. I hope you know how much you mean to the girls. How much you mean to me.”

A breath. Was that too much?

“I don’t know what I’d do without your help.” The words hit like a forbidden confession, twisting something deep in your chest.

Jenson pauses, like he knows there’s not much more to say but he doesn’t want to hang up the phone quite yet. He realizes how much he likes talking to you, even if it’s just to your voicemail.

What he doesn’t know is how you save each and every message he leaves you.

“I know it’s super late.” His flight had been delayed getting out of Austria, but you’d known that was a possibility.

“You can just sleep in the guest bedroom tonight. It’s not a big deal.”

Oh, but it was a big deal.

“I don’t want you driving home this late really, and my weather app says it’s going to rain in the next hour or so.” He was scrambling for excuses now, hoping to give you enough reason to stay over.

It had been a while since he’d been able to spend much time with you, with all of the travel he’d been doing. Not that he should be focusing on that. You were the nanny. Just the nanny. Right?

“So if you’re not already asleep, please stay.”

You weren’t asleep. You were moving around the kitchen quietly, making sure the last bits of dinner were cleaned up and the kettle was set on the burner, peppermint tea already steeping for him.

“It’s just not safe for you to leave.” He reasons, like you hadn’t already decided to stay the moment he’d told you he’d be late.

“Plus it would be a nice surprise for the girls to see you there in the morning.”

And not just the girls. But he can’t say that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Jenson pauses again, working up the courage to ask the next question that’s been sitting on the edge of his mind for weeks now.

“Maybe we could all go out to breakfast together?” His heart races as the question lands.

“They’ve been asking to go to that little cafe down the road from the house for months now and I’m just never home enough for us to go.” The explanation stutters out of his mouth, swift and fast like he wants you to keep listening.

“So, if you don’t have anything going on tomorrow morning, maybe the four of us could all go together.” He winces, knowing what this sounds like. Knowing that he sounds like he wants more.

Because he does. He does want more with you. More than the stolen looks while you prepare dinner after he arrives home. More than the late night talks that have become more and more frequent after the girls are fast asleep. More than the lingering press of fingers against hands as you catch up on that day’s activities while the girls unwind in front of the television.

He wants more with you but Jenson is terrified to ask for it.

“If you’re not busy.” He says quickly, hoping to save himself from embarrassment if you reject him.

Jenson couldn’t stand that. Not from you.

“I’m sure you are, so maybe just forget I asked? Or not. Whatever.” He fumbles.

You smirk because there was nothing more you’d like better than to spend the morning with the girls who have stolen your heart and their dad, who has also worked his way into your soul. You smirk because there’s no way you’re ever going to forget he asked. Forget how nervous he sounded, how much you wished he’d asked you to your face so he could have seen the blush creep up your neck at just the thought of spending more time with him.

“Okay. Well, I’m in the car and on my way home. See you soon.”

Click.

You Both Have A Rare Free Weekend (aka Jenson Button Asks the Nanny Out)

“Hi.” Jenson clears his throat. You pick up on the nerves instantly.

“The girls are fine, I don’t need rescuing.” He chuckles, palming at the back of his neck.

“They’re actually at their moms this weekend.”

Pause. A deep inhale.

“But you knew that. You did the exchange for me yesterday.” He laughs, nerves fraying at the edges.

“So, the girls are at their mom’s for the weekend and I don’t have anywhere to be, no races, nothing.”

Was he really going to do this?

“I remembered you talking bout that Monet exhibit that the National Gallery was debuting this week and thought maybe…”

Jenson sucks in a breath. Does he risk it? Everything that’s passed between you over the last year flashes before him. The lingering looks. The secret smiles shared when the girls weren’t looking. The way you seemed to always find a reason to stay later and later lately, insisting on helping Jenson with dinner or bedtime or homework. It felt domestic. Serious. Natural.

“I just thought maybe if you didn’t have any plans, we could go…together.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and big and dangerous. Jenson knew what he was risking here. Knew that you could retreat behind the professional veil that you wore, even if it was becoming less and less lately.

“It’s been ages since I’ve been to the gallery and you were saying the same thing the other night. How you never get into the city anymore.” He’s scrambling now, trying to speak over the nerves.

“I thought maybe we could make a day out of it. If you want. Get an early start into the city, wander around the gallery for a bit and then maybe lunch?” Jenson hates how desperate he sounds. It’s the truth though. He’s desperate for you.

You haven’t been ‘just the nanny’ for quite some time now.

“Dinner too, if you want.”

Jenson wanted to wring as much time with you out of one of his rare lazy weekends.

“You are just so good with the girls and you do so much for us and…” He’s trying to decide how far to push this. How honest he should be.

“I just want to spend some time alone with you.” He murmurs, the confession making his chest constrict.

This was so dangerous. If you turned him down, he could lose you for good. His girls could lose you for good. But he had to try. Had to risk the rejection.

“Fuck.” He hisses, losing his courage for just a moment.

“I’m sorry, I know this is probably the worst way you’ve ever been asked out on a date.”

Jenson freezes. What if he hadn’t made it clear enough that he was actually asking you out on a date?

“I’m really rusty at this. And nervous.” He chuckles.

“You make me nervous.” What was it about you that made Jenson forget how to act? What had happened to the man that just had to crook a single finger to get a girl into bed? Where was that man?

Long gone for you, apparently.

“Okay. Well. If I haven’t totally fucked up this entire thing, give me a call. I can pick you up any time tomorrow morning…”

Click.

The Morning After

“So last night…” Jenson’s voice is rough, still heavy with sleep.

“I genuinely can’t remember the last time I had so much fun at a bloody art gallery. And then lunch. And dinner.” He pauses.

“And then after dinner…” A smirk collects at the corner of his mouth.

You and Jenson had crossed all sorts of lines last night. Starting with going out on a date with your boss and finishing with…well. It was now Sunday morning and you were just easing your way back into your apartment for the first time in over 24 hours.

“I hope you’re okay with everything that happened last night.” Jenson’s stomach twists suddenly, anxiety gripping at his throat.

“It felt right though, didn’t it? It did for me. Natural, fun, like this was always supposed to happen.” Jenson would never forget the way you’d smiled at him when he suggested you two go home together.

It felt dangerous, new, comfortable.

“You’ve been a goddess in my life since you found us and I know this might be a lot.” The reality of what had happened last night began to sink in.

What this meant for your working relationship. How badly he wanted this to work with you.

“I know people are going to talk. Our age gap is going to raise some brows but…I’m willing to risk it if you are.” Jenson imagined when people found out that he had fallen for you, the nanny, tongues would wag.

He was right, of course. You two ended up being a huge scandal around town.

It hadn’t mattered.

“I don’t give a fuck what other people say and last night was…God, baby.” He chuckles, easing his way into the nickname.

Your heart squeezes. Baby.

“Last night was…” He laughs again, shaking his head.

He wouldn’t have been able to predict how well last night had gone. It had meant everything.

“I’d been working up the courage to kiss you all night. And then when we were on the couch after the movie and you were right there, you were so close.” Jenson pauses, reliving the moments just before he had pressed his lips to yours, warm and inviting and everything he’d been dreaming about for weeks now.

“I suspect you kept scooting towards me the entire time, weren’t you? Cheeky girl.” He wasn’t wrong. You smirk.

“You just looked so warm and cozy and you smelled so good, I couldn’t resist.” The way he’d kissed you on the couch you’d already spent so much time on was something you’d never forget.

Soft. Tender. Reverent. Like he never wanted the moment to end. You certainly hadn’t.

“I know this is…not conventional but I want to give this a try.”

This. You and Jenson. Something that felt right and natural and a little bit dangerous.

“I can’t get you off my mind.” His confession hangs, heavy and thick.

“The girls are with their mom until Wednesday.” He says it like an invitation.

“Maybe we could do something tonight?”

Pause. He was getting ahead of himself, wasn’t he? Fuck.

“Too much?” Jenson winces. The last thing he wants to do is scare you off.

You both were risking so much by giving this chemistry between you a chance to bloom. He didn’t want to fuck it up.

“Not enough for me, if we’re being honest.” He felt like he was 18-years-old again. Fumbling and dumb.

“God, I’m in so much trouble with you.” Jenson chuckles, low and thick. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“Okay, I’m going to hang up now before I really embarrass myself. Call me if you want to do something tonight. Even if it’s just us making out on my couch.”

Another laugh.

Click.

Overheard.

“Daddy! What do you mean she won’t be our nanny anymore?” Gracie wails.

You frown at the phone. You can hear dual sniffles, slightly muffled, like they’re farther away than the phone would like.

“Why is she leaving us, daddy?” That’s Molly. She’s upset too.

“Girls.” Jenson soothes. “Girls. It’s okay. Really.” He leans over, resting his elbows on the kitchen counter. The girls sit opposite of him, plates of pancakes and bacon sat in front of them for their Saturday morning breakfast.

“She’s not going to be your nanny anymore because well…” Jenson wasn’t quite sure how he should word this. The girls were young, sure but they were old enough to understand.

“You know Michael is Mummy’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah…” Gracie is skeptical as to where this is going. Molly just blinks.

“Well, she’s not going to be your nanny anymore because she’s my girlfriend.”

Silence.

“WHAT?” Molly and Gracie shout in tandem.

“Is…is that okay?” Jenson wasn’t prepared for what would happen if the girls rejected this news. His heart hammered, chest constricting at the possibility.

The way grins split both of his girls faces instantly set Jenson’s mind at ease though. This was going to be fine.

“So she’s not leaving us?” Molly asks in her delicate 4-year-old voice.

“No, honey.” Jenson shakes his head, a relieved smile pulling onto his face.

“She’ll still be around and taking care of you, she just won’t be your nanny anymore.”

It had been a tricky conversation but one that had needed to happen. Details were still being ironed out, but this was step one of untangling your professional relationship while your personal relationship with Jenson grew fast and strong.

“In fact, you’re probably going to be seeing her a lot more than you did when she was your nanny. Is that…okay with you girls?”

You couldn’t see it, but both Molly and Gracie nodded their heads vigorously.

“Are you going to kiss her?” Molly chimes in.

Jenson chokes on a laugh.

“Probably.” A smile crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“Will she still tuck me in at night?” Gracie asks. She depends on your bedtimes stories now.

“Of course.” Jenson nods.

“And she’ll cook us dinner? She’s a lot better at making dinner than you are, daddy.” That was Molly, a serious fan of your cooking.

“If you want her to.” Jenson laughs, full and bright.

“She loves us.” Molly says solemnly.

“Yes she does, bug.” Jenson answers, just as seriously.

Your love for his girls had never been in doubt. Not since the first day you’d started caring for them.

“Does she love you?” Gracie asks.

Jenson sways on his feet, the full force of the innocent question nearly bowling him over.

“Well,” He struggles.

Your heart stops.

You do, you realize. You do love him.

“I don’t know. We haven’t talked about that yet.” He sounds anxious and you suddenly can’t wait to confirm what you just figured out yourself.

“Do you love her?” That’s Molly.

Silence.

Jenson thinks. He knew the answer immediately but he’s almost afraid to vocalize it. It’s only been six months since your first kiss. Is this…too fast? Too much?

“I think so.” He manages around a thick knot of emotion that’s suddenly settled in his throat.

“Good.” Gracie says.

“Yeah. Good.” Molly agrees.

“Daddy…” Gracie starts and Jenson looks over at his daughter. “Why does your phone say her name on it now?”

Jenson’s heart ceases to beat.

“Bloody hell.” He groans.

“Hi, honey.”

Click.

Checking On His Girls.

“You fell asleep putting Molly to bed, didn’t you?” Jenson chuckles.

His hotel room door snicks closed.

“Or maybe my old man habits are just rubbing off on you and you’ve fallen asleep on the couch already.” He teases.

You never missed an opportunity to remind him how old he was. He never missed an opportunity to remind you that you were the one that fell in love with an old man.

“ I just got back to the hotel, wanted to check on my girls.”

A pause. Sheets shuffle as Jenson sits on the edge of the bed. He glances at your contact photo on his phone. You and him and Molly and Gracie, all piled together on vacation earlier in the year.

“All of my girls.”

You’d never get tired of being called his, of belonging to Jenson.

“I rescheduled my flight to leave a bit earlier from Spain so I should be home before bedtime, hopefully.” He leans back onto the headboard, closing his eyes.

“If I don’t quit live on air after having to deal with Danica for another six hours.” Jenson groans just thinking about his coworker.

“Anyway, I miss you. God, I miss you.” He whispers, voice dropping an octave as he mentally goes over exactly what parts of you he misses.

“I’m so glad you finally agreed to move in with us. Not having to say goodbye to you twice is just…lovely.”

That had certainly been a big step. One that had been nerve-racking and anxiety inducing. One that felt big and scary but natural and like it was the next step all at once.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of waking up next to you.” He muses, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Coming home to the girls was always the highlight of my weekends away.” He pauses, remembering what it was like before he had to say goodbye to you when he got home.

Now he doesn’t.

“But you being there too? God, Baby.”

You’ll never tire of hearing him call you that.

“Your things being with our things, you being in our family now. The place finally feels…complete. Like this was how it was always supposed to be.”

Jenson falls silent, reflecting on how much has changed since you came into his life. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve you, but he was never going to allow you to walk away.

The Tiffany blue box in the far corner of his closet, hidden beneath a pile winter jumpers, was going to ensure that. Jenson was certain of it.

“I’m going to order room service and eat, I’m famished. FaceTime me later? I want to see your pretty face before I go to sleep.” He grinned, once again looking down at the photo that was displayed on his phone.

“Okay. I love you.”

Click.

#f1 #formula 1 #jenson button #jenson button x reader #jenson button fluff #jenson button x you #f1 x reader #f1 fluff

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thef1diary · 1 year ago

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Little Big Fan | Eight

— Little Big Allergy

Series Masterlist

wc: 3.6k

Note: I am not a medical professional, so please let me know if something is incorrect

"Don't you dare think about cancelling, you are going on that date," your best friend's voice rang out of your phone on speaker while you were choosing a dress for tonight.

You turned to look at the phone, as if your best friend was standing there, "I'm not going to cancel, I just don't know what to wear," you responded, placing another dress against your body but frowning.

"Wear that one sexy red dress you have, who knows, you might just get laid tonight."

You shuffled through your closet, finding the red dress in the back, which was expected since you didn't wear it in a long time. You held it out in front of you, "don't you think it's too revealing for the first date? Maybe I could wear this next time."

It was a backless, short garment with two straps. While the back was revealing, so was the front, which featured two cutouts around the hips and exposed a bit of cleavage due to the lack of material.

Your friend hummed, "so we're planning a second date as well huh?" You could basically hear her smirk on the other end. "Well I hope this date goes well," you reasoned, but the jittery feeling didn't go away.

"You and Max are already good friends who happen to flirt occasionally, what could go wrong?" Then after a short pause, she added, "actually no, don't answer that. Try your blue dress, I bet he'd like to see you in blue."

After almost every interaction you've had with Max, starting from the grocery store, you've told your friend everything. Which is why when she suggested wearing blue, you weren't opposed to it.

Putting your red dress back in the closet for another time, which was hopefully soon, you held a navy blue dress in your hand, examining it before holding it up against your body.

While this one, like the red dress, had two straps holding it together, it was longer, reaching a few inches past your knees and including a little slit down the side for convenience.

"Alright, this is the one," you stated and continued conversing with your friend while you changed and began doing your makeup.

"So Bella is at Tyler's?" She asked, making you nod before realizing that she couldn't see you. "Yeah, she'll be there for the weekend."

"Oh how fun!" You could hear the sarcasm in her voice and chuckled, "it's fine, she should be spending time with her dad."

"The same one who called her overdramatic? Did you seriously have to have a kid with a guy like him?" This was a conversation you've had with her many times, and you would always reply with the same answer, "we were young and immature, but Isabella is the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"She truly is, which makes me glad that she turned out like you more than him." You chuckled, "oh trust me, I am glad about that too. It would've been a nightmare if I had to see a little version of him all the time."

"So, speaking of Isabella, how are you going to tell her that you are dating someone who happens to be her favourite person in her favourite sport?"

You groaned, "I don't know, I really don't know. I can't stop thinking about it, because of what Tyler told me," you explained. "Are you still believing his words? Actually scratch that, why are you letting your ex determine your future relationship?"

"God, why do you have to ask such questions," you muttered, taking a moment to think about your response.

"I don't want to believe him, I have a feeling something else happened that day which he didn't tell me about. Plus he's not only my ex, he's the father of my child. I don't think of him as anything more than that."

"Honestly that asshole shouldn't even be considered the father of such a beautiful little girl," your friend stated, and you couldn't help but agree with her.

"Anyways, let's not talk about him, I don't want to ruin my mood before the night even starts," you comment, with your friend humming in agreement.

"You're right, let's talk about Max!" She exclaimed, making you chuckle. That's whom you ended up talking about for the remainder of the time you were getting ready.

Even though she knew all the details right from day one, she wanted another whole story time of how you and Max met, leading up to when he asked you out. Instead of opposing to repeat the story, which you don't even know how many times you've told her by now, you happily told her all the details as if it was the first time.

A few minutes after you ended the phone call with your best friend, your phone rang again which you initially thought was a call from Max. However, it was a call from an unknown number.

You answered the call, and you were met with a woman's panicking voice on the other end, "is this Isabella's mother?"

"Yes, who is this?" You asked first, calming down the inner voices that instantly thought about the worse possible scenario involving your daughter.

"I'm Emma, I don't know if you know me but I am actually at the hospital, with Isabella." You tightened your grasp on the phone, as it was close to slipping away from your hands at Emma's words.

"What happened and which hospital are you at?" You instantly began moving around your house, finding your car keys as you waited for a response.

Emma told you the address as you were leaving through the front door. "She had a severe allergic reaction, and I thought it would be best to bring her to the hospital. I am sorry for disturbing you, I wasn't able to get in touch with Tyler."

You took a deep breath in, knowing that it was bound to happen someday, even though you would rather not have it happen at all. "I'm on my way, should be there in ten minutes. Thank you for letting me know."

It would've been pointless to argue with her, especially since she was the one who informed you of the situation at hand and had the decency to take your daughter to the hospital.

You rushed into the hospital within eight minutes, a record time for you, and you might've broken a few speeding laws but it was for a good reason. It didn't take too long finding Isabella, considering she was in the ER, with a frantic woman standing nearby, whom you assumed was Emma.

As soon as she spotted you, her first words to you was another apology, "I am so, so sorry, I had no idea she had a peanut allergy." That led you towards one question, well more than one but you started off with just one, "what happened?"

She sighed, before telling you how she spent the entire day with Isabella. "One of my friends came by and dropped off some baked goods, I swear I had no idea that it had peanuts in it."

You reasoned that if you calmed her down, it would calm you down as well, because the increasing dread in your thoughts would not benefit you in any situation. You put your hands on her shoulders, "I'm not blaming you for it, you didn't know."

You looked at the doors leading to the ER, "how bad was it?" Emma hesitated before muttering words that made your heart ache, "really bad, she started swelling up everywhere and then passed out."

You tried to sit down, but the need to know her well-being caused you to walk back and forth in the hallway. Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you were about to ignore it until you recalled something really important.

"Shit!" Max was calling. Of course he was, after all he was expecting you to be home and ready for a date tonight.

"Hey, I'm standing at your front door, are you home or?" He started and awkwardly chuckled, causing you to shut your eyes, imagining how the night was expected to go. He was probably holding a bouquet of flowers, looking like an idiot standing by the door because you weren't home.

"Max, I'm so sorry, I'm actually at the hospital." There was no reason to lie, but even after telling the truth, you didn't feel any less guilty.

"What happened? Are you okay? Is Isabella okay?" His response was quick, and slightly surprising but you've known Max long enough that his kindness wasn't as shocking anymore.

"It's Isabella, allergic reaction," you briefly described, and heard some shuffling around on the other end before he asked for the address. "You don't have to come," you told him as you normally did, but he didn't agree again, saying "I want to."

You didn't argue with him, as your heart warmed at the fact that Max wanted to see Isabella himself, and stay right by your side until she was completely fine.

Quickly telling him the address as you noticed a doctor walking towards you and Emma, you hung up the call. "Which one of you is the patient's guardian?"

You stepped forward, "I'm her mother, how is she?"

"It was an anaphylactic allergic reaction, however everything is under control. We've administered epinephrine but we will be moving her to the ICU for a few hours just for observation purposes in case the symptoms are back."

You let out a sigh in relief, as did Emma. "Thank you," you nodded towards the doctor. Once they left, you sat down, the anxiousness leaving your body.

Looking at Emma, who was standing against the wall in front of you, you had another question brewing in your mind. "Where was Tyler when all this happened?" You asked, remembering that she called you only because she couldn't reach him.

"He said he had an emergency meeting come up," Emma spoke her words carefully, earning raised eyebrows from you. "He left you alone with my daughter?" You had to confirm the words you were hearing and scoffed once she nodded.

"It's not your responsibility to take of my child, it's his. You're not her guardian nor babysitter, you shouldn't have to do that." Emma shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, "it's not the first time."

"How dare he?" You muttered under your breath before standing up and stepping closer to her. "We both have epipens for situations like this, and I am assuming that since you didn't know about her allergy, Tyler didn't tell you about the epipen either?”

Emma shook her head, "no, he didn't."

His lack of attention, led Isabella right to this moment. If he had told Emma about your daughter's allergy, or even what to do when she has allergic reaction, neither of you would be this worried about her health.

Emma, having realizing the depth of the situation, sighed, "I haven't been able to get a hold of him and if it weren't for Isabella constantly talking about you and telling me your phone number to the point where I had it memorized, I wouldn't have known what to do in this situation."

You pitied the woman standing in front of you, especially as you also knew that it was not her fault. You cracked a smile, "she talks about me huh?"

"Oh yeah, she considers you the best mother in the world, and based on her stories, I agree with her."

Then, you heard Max calling your name, walking towards you in a rush. He instantly wrapped an arm around your waist as if it was an instinct, "is she okay?"

Emma stepped away, picking up her phone for another useless attempt of calling her boyfriend.

You wrapped both arms around Max, bringing him in a hug, "yeah, she's okay."

Once he pulled back, he cradled your face with his palms, "are you okay?" You smiled, and your eyes filled with unshed tears because of his question. "Much better now."

Then, Max noticed your outfit which happened to be the dress you were supposed to wear on your date. "Wow," he breathed, his gaze unwavering, taking you in.

He was also dressed up, wearing a suit with a bow tie, and you couldn't help but reach up to touch it, "cute," you commented, making him raise his brows.

"Cute?" He repeated with a questioning tone. You nodded, biting your bottom lip to prevent a smile. "Cute and handsome."

"You are beautiful," he replied, watching as you avert your eyes because his gaze was intense.

"Oh, Max, this is Emma," you decided to introduce them, and added, "she's the one who brought Isabella here."

Max raised an eyebrow in question, "I thought Isabella was with Tyler?" He asked, directed at you more than Emma.

"Well, he wasn't home when this happened, only Emma and Isabella," you stated, and Max gauged your emotions for a moment, quickly recognizing the underlying rage you had directed at your ex. Max knew you'd be discussing this later, in the safety of your own house, so he didn't ask you to elaborate.

A nurse came by, "Isabella is now conscious, and asking for her parents," they stated, along with the room number.

Emma looked at you and Max with a fond smile, before turning towards you, "I think I should get going now that you're here."

A genuine smile graced your lips, "thank you, Emma, for bringing her here and for staying with her even without him."

"Of course, she's the cutest little girl and I'm glad to get to know her." Both of you stood still for a moment, debating on whether or not you should hug her. Then, without thinking twice you initiated a hug that was easily welcomed by her.

You waited till she left your sights before looking at Max, "let's go?" You held out your hand but he shrugged, "she's asking for her parents, you should go."

You stepped forward and grabbed his hand, "you're coming with me," you decided for him. Although Max didn't pull away, he asked, "what if she doesn't want to see me?"

"Trust me, she'll be happy to see you," you convinced him and walked towards the room she was admitted in while holding each other's hand.

When you entered, Isabella's smile widened once she spotted you and Max. "Mama, Maxy!" She cheered, though quieter than usual.

A nurse stood by her side, monitoring her health and checking the IV drip inserted into your daughter's arm.

"Oh my angel, how are you?" You dropped Max's hand and walked closer to her, lightly kissing her forehead. Instead of a verbal response, she formed a thumbs up with her hand.

Then she looked at the door again, "is daddy coming too?" Isabella asked, sounding hopeful. You shook your head, "no sweetheart, daddy is not coming."

Instead of the usual deflated mood, she shrugged, "it's okay, Maxy's here." She held her arms around asking for a hug, only flinching for a moment since she forgot about the drip connected to her arm.

Max quickly stepped forward, bending over to hug her. "All good, Bella?" He asked, once he felt her arms wrap around him tighter. She nodded for a moment then shook her head against him, "it hurts," she whispered.

He brought his hand up to ruffle her hair before pulling away, "you are a very brave girl."

"Really?" She asked, and scooted over a little so Max could sit beside her. He nodded, "of course! Very brave."

She beamed, snuggling closer to him before looking at you. "Mama, come here," she patted the other side, and surprisingly the three of you were able to fit on the very small hospital bed.

A nurse was constantly in the room, checking in on Isabella's health from time to time and since there weren't any repeated symptoms of an allergic reaction, the three of you were out of the hospital in a few hours.

Max followed you in his car, and carried your sleeping daughter inside the house. Instead of taking her straight to her bedroom, he laid her down on the couch in case she wakes up and needs her mother.

It was safe to say that you were not going too far away from her any time soon.

You were in the kitchen, filling up a glass of water when he returned. He stood behind you, with his hands trailing down your sides before resting on your waist, and his chin on your shoulder. "Did I tell you how stunning you look?"

You hummed, "maybe a few times but I don't mind hearing it again."

He turned you around in his grasp, "well, you look breathtakingly beautiful."

You blushed, "you and your compliments," you chuckled. "What's wrong with it?" He asked, but you shook your head, "nothing, it's just I'll never get bored of hearing it."

He smiled, "good, because you'll be hearing at least one every day."

You tilted your head to the side, "every day? Are you sure you won't run out?" He shook his head, "not unless you keep finding ways to make me speechless."

Both of you remained in that position for a moment but then you frowned, "I'm sorry,"

"For what?" He tilted your chin up as soon as you averted your gaze away from him. "We weren't able to go on the date."

Max let out a sound in protest, "I'm pretty sure your daughter's health matters so much more than our date night. Plus the night isn't over," he added with a smile, confusing you even further.

"What does that mean?" He parted away from you and it quickly made you miss the warmth that his body provided you. "Why don't you go change into something comfortable," he suggested, almost pushing you out of the kitchen.

You weren't opposed to the idea, so you went upstairs to change after checking on your daughter. You found the most comfortable pair of sweatpants and a shirt, and removed your makeup as well.

Walking back downstairs, you saw Max waiting at the bottom of the stairs for you. He had removed his blazer and bow tie, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt as well.

He held out his hand, waiting for your hand to hold his, and although you were confused, you wouldn't pass up an opportunity to hold his hand.

"It's not much, definitely not up to first date standards but we'll manage," he commented as he led you to the kitchen table where he had prepared two packets of instant noodles.

"I haven't been on a date in forever so anything you do will set my standards." You smiled when you noticed the lit candle.

"Well, then I will raise your standards next time by taking you out on a proper date." He held the chair out for you, waiting for you to sit before rounding the table and sitting down himself.

It took two minutes before Max moved his own chair right next to yours because he didn't want to sit on the opposite side. You chuckled at his antics but it was much appreciated.

"What's on your mind?" he asked once he saw you visibly thinking. You shrugged, "I don't think we should be discussing these thoughts on a first date."

"This is far from what a first date should be like, so there are no rules. I know you want to talk about what happened at the hospital," he prompted and he was spot on, so you agreed.

"I can't believe he actually left Isabella under Emma's supervision. Not that there is anything wrong with her, but it's not her responsibility!" Max nodded in agreement, "where was he?"

"In a fucking meeting," you exasperated, eating another forkful of the noodles. "It must've been very stressful for Emma," you sighed, finishing your short rant because you truly had no words for your ex's irresponsible behaviour.

Still, Max listened to every word. Once you were finished eating, he turned your chair towards him. "We can agree on the fact that he is an incompetent father."

"Yeah, I don't even know what would've happened if Emma wasn't there either. He surely wouldn't have left Bella alone right?"

Max shrugged, "hey, stop worrying about what could've happened. Bella's safe, she's okay." He placed a palm on your cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth in a soothing motion.

You nodded, "you're right." Making eye contact with him, you were quickly lost in his gaze. While it almost made you want to look away, you couldn't.

"You know," you started, wanting to divert away from the current topic. He hummed, urging you to go on.

"I don't really care for an extravagant date, all I really need is you. I'm happy with this, with us." He smiled, to the point where you could notice the creases forming at the corners.

"I'm happy with us too, but I will be taking you out on an extravagant date because you deserve it, as well as much more."

You rolled your eyes playfully, knowing that it would be hard to convince Max otherwise, but you could think of a few ways to try when the time comes.

"Thank you for being here with me," you added, needing him to know about your appreciation. Your words also hinted at all the moments he shared with you, and Isabella.

He seemed to understand your hint, "I'm glad to be here with you, both of you."

Taglist: (continuing the taglist in comments) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly @llando4norris @wonnou @randomgirlnumber13 @dark-night-sky-99 @chanshintien @leilanixx @gisellesprettylies @peachiicherries @monsieurbacteria6 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @arian-directioner @distancedss @morenofilm @sachaa-ff @lighttsoutlewis @teamnovalak @casperlikej @sadg3 @d3kstar @lewisvinga @lpab @queenofmanydreams @glitterf1 @honethatty12 @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @its-avalon-08 @yourbane @oconswrld @noneofyourfbusinessworld @ssrcsm @softtina @hockeyboysarehot @formulaal @namgification @tallrock35 @bloodyymaryyy @formulanni @ellouisa17 @phantomxoxo

#little big fan fic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #thef1diary fic #f1 fluff #fluff

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violettwrites · 8 months ago

Text

trust i seek, and i find in you — daryl dixon

a/n: hi guys ! sorry it’s been a little while, i’ve honestly not had much motivation but i managed to get this out for the person that requested ! i think i may have a little writers block, but i’m gonna try and rewatch twd to help me out with my inspo 🫶🏻 i apologise that it’s short, but hey, what can we do !

if you enjoy my writing, please don’t forget to like, reblog, and/or comment ! your support always means the world to me 🫶🏻 requests are currently closed, but i will be opening them up soon hopefully !

summary: daryl thinks he isn’t good enough for you because he’s too “old”

requested: @/nuhogom requested; could you do an age gap fic with daryl? reader is well into her/their 20’s though!! i’d love a secret relationship too! maybe if it’s set in twd, it’s because daryl is still kinda insecure etc.

warnings: none ! a bit of angst maybe???

word count: 879

resources: divider by @/adornedwithlight

➵ rules

➵ masterlist

➵ ask box

it was late at hilltop, and the faint hum of crickets mixed with the occasional groan of a walker beyond the walls. inside, everything felt peaceful. you sat in your little trailer, curled beneath a blanket, waiting for daryl. he didn’t stop by every night, much to your dismay, but you could always sense when he would. there was something between you—something electric, fragile, and unspoken, like a current neither of you dared disturb.

a soft knock echoed through the quiet, followed by the slow creak of the door opening. there he was, crossbow slung over his shoulder, eyes a mix of stoic and softened by the dim light of your trailer. his gaze found yours immediately, warm and inviting.

“thought you weren’t comin’,” you said, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself as you watched him, your eyes tracing every one of his movements.

“had to finish a run for tara,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly. he didn’t need to explain further—his presence was enough. it always had been. words had never been necessary between the two of you.

you’d been seeing each other for months now, in secret. daryl, being in his forties, knew that people would talk if they found out. they’d whisper, judge, say you were too young for him, too bright for someone as worn as him. he hated the idea of being the one to pull you into those whispers, to tarnish you with their judgments. but at the same time, he couldn’t stay away.

you didn’t care about any of that, though. not in a world like this. what did other people’s opinions matter when survival was all that was left?

“no one’s gonna know,” you whispered, sitting up a bit and placing a hand on his arm. “it’s just us here.”

he hesitated, glancing away for a moment before his eyes settled back on you. “it ain’t right. yer young. people’ll talk, make it worse.”

you could see the conflict in his eyes, the way his need to protect you warred with his desire to be close. but you weren’t a kid anymore. you were capable of making your own decisions, and you had chosen him.

“i don’t care what they think,” you said softly but firmly. “none of that matters. i care about you—that’s all i need.”

daryl sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as he shook his head, but his hand found yours. his fingers, rough and calloused from years of surviving, wrapped gently around yours. he pulled you closer, tucking you under his arm as you leaned into him, your head resting against his chest. his other arm came around you, solid and protective, as though he were the only thing standing between you and the chaos of the world outside.

“don’t know why you want someone like me,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you.

you tilted your head to look up at him, his expression clouded with doubt. “i want someone like you because you’re kind, and you care more than you let on. you see me for who i am, not for who people think i should be.”

his brow furrowed slightly, the weight of your words sinking in. it wasn’t often that anyone took the time to look past the walls he kept up, and fewer still bothered to try.

you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “stop worrying about them. it’s just us.”

daryl didn’t reply, but his arms tightened around you, pulling you in until you were practically in his lap. your head rested against his chest, and you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear, a sound that brought you more comfort than you ever thought possible.

his fingers slowly combed through your hair as the silence stretched between you, easy and familiar. your eyes drifted closed, feeling the tension seep out of him as his body relaxed against yours. this was a side of him no one else saw—vulnerable, unguarded, and you cherished it, every rare moment of it.

time seemed to blur, the rest of the world fading away as you sat there together. daryl’s hand never stopped moving through your hair, his touch so tender it was hard to believe it came from someone so hardened by life.

“i ain’t good at this,” he mumbled after a while, his voice low and almost apologetic. “don’ know how to do relationships—how to… be what you need.”

you lifted your head, meeting his gaze. “you’re already everything i need, daryl.”

his eyes softened at your words, the usual tension in his features melting away. he leaned in slowly, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips. it wasn’t rushed, as though he wanted to savor every second, commit it all to memory.

when you finally pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, breathing him in. “i’m not going anywhere,” you whispered. “not unless you want me to.”

he shook his head, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “ain’t ever gonna want that.”

your heart swelled at his words, and you smiled, nestling back into his chest, his arms keeping you close, holding onto you like you were his anchor in the storm.

and for now, that was all that mattered.

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jeonstudios · 11 months ago

Text

dextrocardia | 14

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 9.7k

warnings: a LOT of bodyshaming and fathobia and sexism

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 14/?

“I hope you know that I appreciate all the things you’ve been telling me. I know it can’t be easy, all the things you’ve gone through. So I appreciate it, even if I unfortunately…”

“Don’t have much to say?” you smile at him as you turn to close his bedroom door behind you.

“Yeah. It’s a lot different than when I’m talking to someone who maybe just got out of a… situation because, while that’s always hard, you just have to listen and assure them they did the right thing, going to the cops and that we’ll guide them through the rest and hopefully help them get justice. That it wasn’t their fault, you know? But you know all that already, and I’m not much help; in fact, I was a big part of your problem and going to the police probably made it worse in your case because we let you down instead of helping you.”

It’s sad, the way he says it, reaching for the collar of his t-shirt at the back of his neck. He pulls it over his head before he suddenly stops, the shirt stuck across his lowered arms. You meet his deer-in-the-headlights eyes and see how it dawns on him that despite explaining earlier that he wants to keep his shirt on–at least with you in the house?–he hasn’t actually been committing to that promise. You wonder if it had anything to do with his scars, if he wanted to spare you from seeing them or just not risk you being uncomfortable.

“It’s fine, take it off,” you comment casually, “but do know that I might warm my cold feet against your skin.”

He grins, finally removing the shirt entirely and throwing it onto the chair in the corner. “Feel free.”

Flicking the lights off, Jeongguk joins you in the dark, getting under the duvet and getting comfortable.

It’s silent for a while, and you’re halfway between sleep and consciousness when Jeongguk says something you definitely weren’t expecting.

“Are you still scared of me?”

You roll over to face him, even though the room is almost pitch black.

“Do you want me to be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I think that I will always be aware… of what you can do. Even right now, if you in this moment decided to hurt me, there would be nothing I could do about it. I can spend my days in the gym but odds are a vast majority of men could overpower me anyway. If I were to trust my gut, it would say that you’re a… good guy, but I know that most women murdered by a man they knew or even their male partners didn’t fall for someone openly abusive. They’re sweet at the start, and then they change. Hoseong was like that too; kind until he wasn’t. I know you know that because he fooled you too.

“When it comes to you, I think the only reason I’m here with you is because of what you did that night. I would’ve found any reason to believe that you were still playing a game of making me trust you, just waiting for the right moment to strike, if I hadn’t seen you fight them. No matter how talented of an actor you are, they were prepared to kill you, and you… were prepared to die.

“And this…” you move your hand under the sheets, tentatively finding his chest and the scar. “I don’t like looking at it, and it feels like it’s my fault your mom almost lost her son, but it’s also… almost a relief. I don’t have to second-guess if you really want to help me or if it’s just a long con to… finish something. But like I said… just because you haven’t tried to kill me yet doesn’t statistically mean you won’t. I don’t think you will, but then again, there are a lot of dead women who probably wouldn’t have imagined their murderer being someone they knew.”

Jeongguk places his hand over yours on his chest. “For what it’s worth, I could never hurt you. I know I did; that I hurt you emotionally and scared you, but not even when I thought you were the most selfish person on the planet would I have physically hurt you.”

“I will let the fact that I came to live with you speak for how I feel about you, or at least want to feel about you. Also the fact that I’m sleeping in your bed with you.”

“That you find me entirely irresistible, dying to be close to me at all times?”

You roll your eyes, however, blood rushes to your cheeks. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

“Good that we’re on the same page then, cause I’m kinda stuck on the fact that you kissed me.”

Inevitably, your cheeks warm up further, but it’s okay since it’s dark anyway.

“I did. It was a good kiss.”

“Yeah. I totally wouldn’t hate it if you did it again. In fact, I am open to kisses anytime, just as I am hand-holding.”

“You’re sure? Even from me?”

You hate that you have to ask, but… you do.

“Absolutely.”

You consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to trust his words, at least tonight. Empowered by the dark, you move your hand from his chest. It travels over his warm neck before it reaches his jaw. Your heart beats so hard you’re almost convinced he can hear it, but you ignore it and move closer. Despite the dark, you see his face and how he’s smiling, patiently waiting. It’s both a blessing and a hellish curse how handsome he is; he truly takes your breath away.

Using your hand, you move your hair away, and you lean down to connect your lips. His are so soft, and he kisses you back so sweetly, letting you set the pace. You move your mouth against his, pulling back an inch just to do it again. Jeongguk lets his hand hold your waist, and even though kissing him is… a dream, you’re reminded that there’s a limit you’re not comfortable crossing.

So you pull back, but you still let him hold your waist.

“There.”

You fall asleep quicker than the nights before. A few hours later–and a few hours before morning–you blink your eyes open, finding yourself entangled with him. You’ve got your arm thrown over his middle, your cheek resting on his naked chest, right below his chin, and one of your legs lies between his.

For a while, you listen to his breaths, thinking about what it is that you’re doing. He’s so warm, and he feels so… safe, but there’s still a certain thought in your head.

When you wake up the next time, you’re once again alone in Jeongguk’s bed, and the first thought crossing your mind is how unnecessary boarding up your window really was when you’re practically almost always sleeping in his bed these days. Also, does he count on being able to hear a potential intruder trying to break in through his window? Because there is one, and it’s definitely not boarded up.

Your curiosity grows when you hear Jeongguk move throughout the house, and the sound of a…. what is that?

Rolling out of his bed, you yawn as you open the bedroom door to almost run head first into a stressed-looking Jeongguk. The sound you heard you identify as the now turned off blow dryer, something you’ve borrowed yourself but never seen him use. Looking up, you realize that, yeah, his hair is still wet from a shower and blow drying it means that he either doesn’t want to wait for it to air dry or he can’t.

“You’re going to the station?” you ask, noticing that he is actually indeed wearing his dark blue, almost black uniform.

“Yeah, uh, multiple trafficking victims on their way. Want to be there before they arrive.”

A very specific feeling moves through your chest; an uncomfortable sadness that someone has most likely been through hell, but there’s a warmth there too, for Jeongguk.

“What are you looking for?”

He looks around, patting his pockets, “Uhm, I have my phone, wallet, house keys. I need the… bike key and the helmet. The helmet is probably in the garage, but I’m not sure where the key is.”

You blink, trying to remember what jacket he was wearing the last time you recall him using the bike. The leather one, right? You step up to the coat rack, looking through the jackets until you find it. Swiftly, you search the pockets until…

“Found it. Do I put it in your uniform jacket?”

“Oh, thank you. Yes, please,” he says over the sound of the blow dryer that he grabs once more.

You watch him dry his hair, incessantly running his fingers through it to speed up the process. A few minutes later, he turns the machine off and runs his fingers through the black hair one last time, “It’ll have to do.”

Then, he’s gathering his stuff, taking the jacket from your hands and heading toward the door leading to the garage as he throws it on. “Not sure when I’ll be back, it might take a while cause I don’t know how many they are or what they’ve been through, but I can update you?”

“Jeongguk?”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Come here for a second.”

Confused, he takes the four steps until he’s in front of you looking down curiously but a little stressed at you.

You smile at him, at how pretty and caring he is. “Be careful.”

He grins, a little surprised. “I always am. But it’s mostly just letting them talk and writing it all down, and–”

“I meant on the road. With the bike. I know you can handle the case.”

“Oh. Will do.”

For a millisecond, he looks at you, his bottom lip bitten. Then he’s pulling you closer by your waist, pecking your lips sweetly.

“I’ll see you later.”

With warm cheeks, you watch him enter the garage, thinking of his kind, brown eyes. You don’t know what to feel.

When Jeongguk returns, he’s angry. He doesn’t say much except frustratingly relaying that apparently, one of the women had called the police about a creepy neighbor appearing to watch her house six months ago. The two officers sent did absolutely nothing at all. Couldn’t offer any protection, didn’t talk to the neighbor, couldn’t even give the woman any advice, just left. Two weeks later, the neighbor takes her. You understand Jeongguk’s frustration toward the system, but when he’s spent two hours in the gym without any kind of break, you decide to check up on him.

You hear the brutal beating of the punching bag long before you spot him.

“How are you doing? You’ve been in here a while…”

Jeongguk stops and looks at you from behind the sand-filled bag, breathing heavily. He’s shirtless, and there’s sweat covering his skin and wetting his hair.

“I’m alright.”

But you can tell that he’s frustrated by the turmoil in his eyes. Although it’s hot to see him work out, you don’t like seeing him like this. It has an uncomfortable feeling growing in your stomach.

“You’re doing what you can.”

“Yet there’s always more to do. It never ends, and it’s never enough.”

He’s definitely right about that, but does it help to be so worked up about it? Or are you the weird one, more likely to go apathetic when reminded of the injustices of the world these days?

“But you did your part today, and I know you made an impact in their lives.”

He looks disappointedly at the sandbag, as if your words didn’t affect him at all.

“Hey,” you call softly. He looks at you.

“If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”

‘Right now’ as in alive.

“But I–”

“If you never transferred, they would’ve gotten me at this point.”

“Bare minimum,” is all he mumbles.

“It meant a lot to me. Everything, actually. And I’m really grateful.”

At that, he finally smiles a little, and you find yourself dangerously lost in his eyes again.

Thirty minutes later, at nine p.m., the power goes out. You stop what you’re doing, your hand, holding the kettle frozen in mid air over the mug. Even the very, very low humming of the fridge and freezer stops. You put the kettle down, glad that you probably managed to fill your mug with enough tea water.

Where is your roommate? Last you heard, he was about to take a shower.

“Jeongguk?” you call, but the moment you peek out into the hallway, you run straight into him, still wet from the shower and with a towel around his hips, you think.

“What happened?” he asks, his hands steadying your elbows.

“Uh? I don’t know? I was pouring tea and the lights and everything went out.”

“Oh? So that means it wasn’t our doing. I’ll check if there’s a blown fuse; you never know.”

“Okay,” you pat the pockets of your sweatpants, “Here’s my phone if you want a flashlight.”

“Thanks,” he nods, grabbing it from your hand.

He taps the screen to turn the flashlight function on, the light pointed down immediately illuminating every little crevice in his abs and the glints of water still on his skin. The white towel hangs low, exposing a bit of a happy trail.

You look away, and Jeongguk, seemingly none the wiser, turns around to find the fuse box somewhere other than in the kitchen, guided by your phone.

Sighing to yourself the moment you’re alone again, you go back to your tea, removing the bag from the mug. Opening the fridge, you’re once again reminded of how dependent on electricity you are when the open door doesn’t trigger the built in light. Still, you find the milk, and you manage to pour a little bit into the mug and put the container back in the still chilly fridge.

By the time you finish stirring the tea spoon around, you hear Jeongguk’s steps approaching you, and you see the ray of light illuminate the floor in front of him.

“No blown fuses. I’m gonna see if there’s anything on the provider’s site or else I’ll give them a call.”

“Are you gonna get dressed as well, or?” you joke, watching him smile cheekily.

“Yeah. I was just barely done washing my hair when the light went out.”

“I can see that; you’re dripping all over the floor.”

“Sorry,” he says and shakes his head like a dog, launching drops of water at your clothes and face.

“Jeongguk!”

Laughing, he leaves the kitchen and steps out into the dark.

“What if I slip and fall?” you call after him, wiping the drops from your face before returning to your mug to take a test sip. It tastes good, but you’ll definitely try to remember to buy honey next time you go grocery shopping because you’re a sucker for a little sweetness.

Half a minute later, you hear footsteps approaching, and when you turn around from the sink, Jeongguk is drying the floor with the towel he was just using, now wearing what looks like a pair of sweatpants of his own. He doesn’t say anything, just makes sure the floor is dry and then he leaves again, much to your amusement. Like you said; you’re a sucker for sweetness.

While he’s gone, you use your phone’s flashlight to pour the rest of the water into another mug in case Jeongguk wants some tea too. Then you venture carefully into the living room, trying not to spill the hot contents. It goes without accidents, and so you set the mug down onto the coffee table before reaching for the remote. Which doesn’t work.

“Fuck, no TV,” you mutter to yourself. And you’ve used your laptop without the charger all day. Even more fuck.

“Jeongguk, is your laptop charged?” you call out, praying to the gods.

“Uh, yeah,” he appears behind you, having matched a black hoodie to his gray sweatpants.

He’s holding something in his arms, a lot of smaller things. Candles, you realize when he leans down to gently dump them onto the table. From his pocket he then produces a lighter.

“You wanna watch something?” he asks, lighting the candles one by one, the coziness factor doubling with every flame added.

“I was gonna watch this documentary, but my laptop isn’t charged,” you pout. “Oh, and also, the Wifi won’t work.”

Jeongguk chuckles. “Mine should be fully charged. And we can use my mobile data.”

Wow, way to flex.

“Great. I made tea, do you want some?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

While he goes to grab his laptop, you return to the kitchen to fix his mug of tea as well, returning as he’s setting everything up, the screen illuminating his face where he sits on the couch. The flickering candles are doing their best too, casting a more yellowy glow across the room.

“Thanks,” he says once more when you place the mug in front of him. “Here.”

You accept the laptop, navigating to the specific streaming site and the documentary released just last week about the development of the space shuttles. Due to the size difference between Jeongguk’s TV and that of his laptop, you take your seat closer to him than usual.

Jeongguk sips his tea, but the moment he’s put the mug back safely on the table and is leaning back against the couch and watching the screen, he slowly lets his hand find yours.

In turn, you find yourself moving closer, leaning your head against his shoulder. He smells nice, and he feels nice. And it’s suddenly like someone started some kind of wordless game. You don’t say anything, but there’s also a kind of tension that builds, no less in your body.

Perhaps also feeling the… electricity building, Jeongguk makes his next move, this time slowly lifting his arm to put around you, making you lean against his chest instead. The action has his hoodie riding up just a little, exposing a sliver of his stomach.

When it’s your turn again–and you feel your shared anticipation grow–you try to psych yourself up. He likes you, he likes you.

So, you place your hand on the exposed section of skin, caressing it carefully with your thumb.

Besides the documentary, it’s quiet, although you’re almost positive Jeongguk can hear your heart beat erratically; it’s definitely beating loudly in your ears. For his next turn, Jeongguk somehow both swiftly and slowly pulls you onto his lap, and before you know it, you’re straddling him, staring down at his smiling face.

The narrator speaks in the background, but you can only focus on Jeongguk and how your heart might soon beat its way out of your chest.

You could kiss him. You could.

He looks at you like he’s hoping for it but not expecting it, and you pray to God he actually does want you to. Because you want to kiss him so badly.

He’s got his gentle hands on your thighs, and you place yours softly on his face, holding his jaw and rubbing your thumbs slowly over his cheeks. Until you move one thumb and press it even softer against his lips.

This man is too good to be true, he has to be. As you let your eyes admire him, you think about the fact that, even if you disregard how he literally took a sword to the heart for you, he’s done more for you in the short period of time you’ve known him than any other man in your life.

So you move your finger from his mouth, nervously switching it out for your lips. You can’t even describe how much you like kissing him. When it’s sweet and innocent and just lips and a wordless confession of ‘I like you,’ or when you use a little tongue, and he chooses to follow your lead, kissing you back with the same growing heat. But there’s still something bothering you that you can’t ignore.

In the midst, you pull back an inch, eyes glued to his lips to avoid his eyes. “I like kissing you, but… “

“But what?” he wonders, his hands drawing innocent shapes on your thighs. Your heart pumps even harder as you choose your next words.

“I’m not really your type.”

He smiles, looking carefree, “You are. I think you’re a sweet girl.”

Jeongguk kisses you again, and you try not to think about it, but even with his lips against yours, it’s hard. A sweet girl. Letting one of your hands fall from his face, you grab the collar of his hoodie, clumsily placing your hand inside it to touch his chest, feeling for the scar.

Taking it as you wanting it off, he pulls away to yank the hoodie over his head, and it ends up somewhere toward the end of the couch. Even without it, his bare skin is just as warm under your hands, but before you know it, you’re on your back on the couch, and he’s above you. He’s very sweet, and in this moment–with your hands splayed across his back and the scar there–you know he won’t hurt you.

A sweet girl.

Right?

A sweet girl. You hear the voices and feel the anxiety and fear return to fill you. You go with the flow, unsure of what to think or do. Jeongguk helps you out of your shirt and then your bra, and you watch him sit back to throw them onto the floor somewhere.

But the moment he returns his attention to you underneath him, he stops. Because you’re covering your naked chest with your hands like your life depends on it, eyes teary and absolutely and helplessly begging him to look anywhere but at you.

He still does, and you can tell he’s surprised, his wide eyes taking in the situation from above you.

So you plead quietly, “Please don’t look at me.”

It takes half a second, and he’s immediately closing his eyes, turning to feel around for something behind him. Your shirt probably lies somewhere farther away on the floor, and so his black hoodie is what he ends up grabbing, handing it to you still with his eyes closed.

And he of course moves off of you, the only sounds in the room being the documentary, the slight rustling as you’re putting the hoodie on, and your quiet breaths.

When he assumes you’re dressed, he opens his eyes, heart visibly breaking when he sees how absolutely shaken to the core you look, hugging your body and sitting up. You turn your eyes to the documentary on the screen even though both of you know you haven’t been watching it.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he starts to explain, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, wanting desperately not to make a big deal out of it. If you could just will your hands to stop shaking.

“No, I–”

“Jeongguk, please. I’m fine, okay. I’m not… I’m not ready, but… Can we not talk about it, please?”

Reluctantly, you meet his eyes and see the somber worry in them as he watches you from where he’s sitting, still shirtless.

“Okay. If there’s anything I can do…”

You smile tentatively at him, desperate to move on from the subject, “Watch the rest of the documentary with me?”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat, “I’ll, uh, go and change so you can get your hoodie back.”

“No, no, it’s alright. Keep it,” he’s quick to rise to his feet, already on his way somewhere–presumably his bedroom.

The forty seconds he’s gone you use to calm your breathing and stabilize your voice. It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t going too fast or not listening to you. He listened to what you gave him; you, yourself only figured out where exactly the line was drawn when it was basically already crossed.

He’s wearing a black t-shirt when he returns, taking a seat next to you and focusing his eyes on the screen, probably more so for your sake than his. “I hope you know that you can tell me anything. And I have no certain expectations you have to fulfill or so.”

You already know that he’s not asking sex for rent, if that’s what he’s wondering. But regarding his first statement… there are definitely things you don’t want to talk to him about.

“Yeah,” you answer regardless.

When the credits roll only a few minutes later, you know that you have two options. If you sleep in your own bed like you ideally want to, you risk there being an awkwardness tomorrow and that you definitely don’t want. Or you sleep in his bed with him like you have the last few days, and sure, it might be a little awkward, but he probably realizes you’re not up for cuddling, and it’ll be easier tomorrow.

“Oh. Finally,” Jeongguk exclaims when the ceiling light flickers on, signaling the return of the electricity. “I was starting to worry about all the food in the freezer.”

Subsequently, he leans over the coffee table, blowing out the small candles one after the other. It’s late anyway.

“So, uh…” he rises from the couch, “I’ll keep my door open, but I’m not offended if you choose to sleep in your bedroom.”

“Okay,” you nod at him, watching as he leaves to brush his teeth and get ready for bed.

You stand up too, but no matter how much you want to crawl into bed next to him and have him hold you the entire night, you get ready for bed, and you lie down in your own room. You’re still wearing his hoodie because it smells like him, and it ironically brings you comfort. Still, you lie there in the dark, and you think about his face, and his eyes, and his body. His voice, even, and how he might actually be a good guy. Maybe even everything you want, even if it doesn't matter. And you curl up, a few tears running silently down your cheeks. Because Jeon Jeongguk is so very far out of your league, it’s not even funny.

After waking up, you trudge toward the kitchen, still feeling half asleep. After everything that happened yesterday, you still managed to sleep pretty well, most likely because you were exhausted and sleeping alone.

“Morning.”

You stop, hands mid eye-rub.

“I… thought you’d be at the station?” you say, redirecting your focus to taming your hair. Jeongguk is sitting at the kitchen table, donning a white t-shirt and black, what looks to be cotton, shorts.

“No, I’ll use today to go over some of the potential leads you helped find. Can do that from here.”

He takes a bite of a cupcake, and you catch his eyes linger a second on your body and how a small smile pulls on his lips before he looks into his phone in front of him. Glancing down, you realize that since you didn’t expect him to be home, you didn’t change out of his hoodie so what he saw waddle into the room was you, swallowed by his hoodie, sweater paws rubbing your eyes.

“It, uh, smells good,” you mumble quietly, realizing way too late that it’s not that great of a defense. “But I’ll wash it and you can have it back.”

It smells good because he smells good.

He waves his hand, still looking almost… fond. “It’s okay, keep it as long as you’d like. I have a ton of them.”

“Okay, uh, thank you.”

“No problem.”

At least the awkwardness was for another reason.

You decide to do a bit of laundry, although skipping the black hoodie and hiding it away under your duvet for a little while longer. Doing the laundry, vacuuming most of the house, and emptying the dishwasher takes you almost an hour, and then you find yourself outside Jeongguk’s office, knocking on the open door and peeking inside.

“Making any progress?”

He lifts his head from the laptop screen and swivels around in his chair to face you, a pen in his hand.

“No,” he sighs, “I’m looking into the girlfriend angle and so far, we’ve put detectives on a recent ex of Seunghwa’s and on two of Ryung’s flings, but it hasn’t resulted in anything. Regarding Hoseong… I’m not sure I ever actually heard him mention anyone by name, at least not any name that I can seem to match to anyone.”

“What about… I remember him talking about this Jimin?”

“Who’s that? I think we’ve covered most of his friends?”

You search your memory, but it’s hard to remember details. It’s been years since the conversations you try to recall, and as far as you remember, he only mentioned her in passing. “It was a woman, and I think they were more than friends. Or at least she wanted to be.”

“I didn’t even think of that; I only know male Jimins. Tell me more,” he urges, and you can tell he’s trying to recall if there was ever a mention of a Jimin.

“Well, I heard him complain about her a few times; said she was clingy and honestly a little obsessed with him. He made it sound like he didn’t care for her that much. In retrospect–besides being a very red flag–it sounds like something he could’ve said about me when I liked him.”

“Someone who maybe is mostly just a regular woman and would still maybe help them if they’re desperate enough to ask. Or him, at least.”

“Yeah.”

For a few hours, you and Jeongguk work together in his office, and you nearly forget about yesterday’s mishap, trying to find more info on this ‘Jimin.’ Until you find yourself nearly chest to chest with him after turning around too quickly and not expecting him so close. Instead of meeting your eyes sweetly and slowly lowering his head to kiss you like he probably would’ve even yesterday, he smiles and… backs up a few steps.

“Hey, should we take a break? Have a late lunch?” Jeongguk stretches his arms out in front of him.

You continue noting down some last names from your phone onto a paper, using the chair Jeongguk wheeled into his office specifically for you as a table while sitting on the floor. “Uh, you go ahead. I had a late breakfast.”

He stands up. “Oh. I didn’t notice.”

“Mhm, you were already in here.”

“I can wait then, and we can eat together.”

“It’s alright; go ahead.”

He mumbles something you don’t quite catch, but he does leave you to your notes and disappears from the office.

For the rest of the day, it’s just as if you’ve taken two or even three steps back. You don’t… touch a lot, and you definitely don’t kiss. A part of you misses it, but another part is relieved that he’s giving you space. He’s still very, very sweet, of course. You didn’t expect anything else.

Like when you open a cupboard, gaze set on a specific mug of his you’ve taken a liking to thanks to the very big ear that prevents the hot tea from burning your hand even through the ceramic. Compared to your male roommate, you’re lacking a little more in the vertical department and for some reason, whoever emptied the dishwasher placed the mug on the top shelf.

You look at it for three seconds, debating on whether you should grab a kitchen chair and climb or simply admit defeat and choose the next best mug. You’re about to go for the latter option when your hero swoops in, wordlessly and casually picking it down for you, a mug of his own raised to his mouth.

“Thank you,” you take the offering from his hand, a smile growing on your lips.

“You’re welcome.”

Or how he’ll still open whatever door you run into for you, to the point that it wouldn’t surprise you if he tried to open the automatic doors and hold them open with his hands when he takes you grocery shopping.

And sometimes, you do touch. Whenever he’s quick enough to exit the driver’s seat and open the passenger door for you, he holds his hand out for you, and when you take it, he helps you out as if you can’t step out of the car on your own.

When you watch a movie, you don’t sit glued to each other, but he’s not scared to gently pull your feet–which you’ve complained all day of being tired–onto his lap to briefly massage them for you. He smiles at you, all crinkle-cornered sparkly-eyed and dimpled. On two short occasions, he holds your hand carefully, something you don’t object to because it feels nice, it really does.

But despite all these things, you still sleep in your bedroom. You don’t lock the door, but you do sleep alone.

Three days after the incident during the power outage, you’ve worked a long day in Jeongguk’s office. Alone, because he had to leave for the station at nine a.m.. You’ve had a lot of time to think, not only today but ever since what happened–and before that honestly–and it’s become very clear that you need to make a decision. Maybe you should simply gather your courage, give it a shot, and tell him how you feel about him, no matter what happens after?

Despite feeling somewhat determined and having some kind of honestly not very thought out plan, you’re anxious, wandering around the house as you wait for him to return.

An hour before he comes home, you find yourself in front of the washing machine, throwing the black hoodie into it finally. With the machine on, you head into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of wine. It helps a little, and the remaining nerves that still reside in your chest, you decide to just try to ignore.

The sound of his bike is what notifies you of his return, and you leave the kitchen to meet him in the garage, watching as he swings his leg over the bike and takes the black helmet off, holding it under his arm.

“Hey,” he greets when he sees you waiting, a genuine smile on his face. “How was your day?”

“Uh… good. Narrowed down the Jimins a bit, I think.”

“That’s great,” he grins, his elatedness infecting you too, causing you to smile a little hesitantly despite the nerves devouring you. “Have you eaten yet? I know it’s kinda late but if not; I could cook something?”

He puts the helmet on one of the shelves that line one of the walls, and then he comes to stand before you.

You keep your eyes on the jacket with the police emblem on it before you peer up at him. A little hesitantly, you reach for the zipper of his jacket, fiddling a little with it.

“I, uh… actually have something else I want to do. Something I’d like to try… If you’re up for it…”

Tentatively, you reach your hand out, fingers pulling down the zipper of his jacket. He watches you curiously, doing nothing to stop you.

“What is it? That you want to do?” he asks, his warm voice definitely sounding curious but not overly so.

You swallow, deciding to just go for it and slowly placing your arms around his neck, “Well… Do you have any… handcuffs?”

He tilts his head, holding your waist while looking at you, searching. “For me? I do, but we don’t have to do anything; you know that, right?”

“Yeah, but if I really want to? Or maybe you…” you realize that he might just not want to. Like, at all. Oh, how embarrassing.

Seemingly noticing the way you take a step back, lowering your arms from around his neck, he stops you, his hands keeping them there.

“No, no. I’m always willing to let you do whatever you’re comfortable with. I don’t mind.”

His encouragement has a more genuine smile pulling on your mouth.

“Meet me in your bedroom then?” you ask, “And bring the cuffs.”

Not waiting for a confirmation, you drop your hands from his neck, and you turn around to head inside the house. Your heart is pounding, going absolutely haywire while you wait for him on the edge of his bed. Maybe you should’ve worn something else? Something other than just a pair of mom jeans and a blue sweater, but it’s too late now, you guess.

He shows up only a minute later, eyes curiously observing the heavy chair you’ve moved from the corner and into the middle of his room. The first thing he does is unbutton the dark blue shirt of his uniform, sliding it down his arms and throwing it onto the bed. You look at his chest and his arms and his stomach, and you see how he notices. This… humble confidence looks so good on him, and it’s so insanely different from how he acted during the mission. You’ve never seen anyone so attractive.

The next thing he does is approach you where you’re sitting, offering you his hand all while smiling sweetly… but still a little cheekily.

Placing your hand in his, you’re pulled up to your feet, basically chest to chest with him. There’s heat in his gaze, but it’s not scalding; it’s just warm.

You give in.

“Kiss me?”

He searches your eyes for hidden answers, but you really do want him to kiss you, and so he does. He places one hand on your lower back, moving your body with him as he steps back and sits down on the chair. Ending up sitting across one of his thighs, you open your eyes when he pulls away just enough to speak.

“I don’t mind you doing… whatever you want to do, if that’s just sitting on my lap or… exploring me. I’m all for it. Do what you want to do. But,” he says, emphasis on that last word. “Only do what you actually want to.”

You nod, and he reaches down to pull something out of his pocket. The handcuffs. You take them from him, pocketing the small key.

“By the way, how did you get out of the cuffs at the house?” you ask, weighing the metal in your hand.

“I went and got another key before. So I threw you one key and kept the other.”

You feel your forehead crease as you think about what that means. You were only able to relax when you thought he couldn’t hurt you, but he… could? At any point, he could’ve simply unlocked the cuffs himself?

“I didn’t keep a key because I had ulterior motives or anything. I was just worried you might hurt yourself or pass out for real, like, stop breathing and everything, so I needed a way to get to you if that were to happen.”

“I didn’t even think about that,” you admit quietly. It’s true; the fact that you had multiple pairs of handcuffs with you to the house, and they all use the same universal key entirely slipped your mind. “But of course. How stupid of me.”

“It wasn’t stupid. You were under a lot of stress, and I used that to my advantage, hoping you wouldn’t think about it.”

Standing up, you round the chair to kneel behind it. Without having to be asked, Jeongguk puts his hands back and waits for you to cuff them together.

“So I’m tightening these extra hard and making sure I have all keys,” you joke, still fastening them tight enough for him not to be able to slip them off.

“If that’s what you need to feel comfortable. But I hope you know that I’ll always listen to you.”

You nod, maybe more so to yourself when you stand in front of him again. He looks up at you where he sits, shirtless and looking gorgeous and absolutely mouthwatering.

You bite your lip briefly. “Can I… kiss you?”

“Whatever you want,” he grins, a smile that widens when you sit down on one of his thighs again.

“Okay. Close your eyes?”

Without a word, he obeys your request, and you feel yourself get almost hypnotized, looking at him. You’ve truly never seen anyone so stunning, even to the point that you could sit and gaze at him for hours. The best of mankind but still very much a man. You remember how you used to hate him, thinking God wasted this incredible beauty on someone so ugly, but although you’re not entirely sure how you feel about him, you know you don’t hate him.

Carefully, you trace your fingers along his sharp jaw, and despite his eyelashes fluttering, he doesn’t open his eyes. Unable to help yourself and because you truly don’t think he minds, you allow your gaze to drop. His neck is relatively thick, and the veins are only slightly visible compared to when he’s physically active. Your eyes then land on his collarbones. Then his wide, muscular shoulders and pecs. Then the scar, before traveling across his abs.

“You’re so pretty,” you state quietly, looking up at his face just in time to watch him smirk.

“Pretty is for girls; I’m a man.”

You can’t quite explain the emotional wave that hits you as you come to terms with what you have to do–the decision he’s made for you–but you know that you have to hide it, can’t make a sound of hurt in the silent room. Pressing your lips together, you look around the bedroom before you rise from his thigh.

“What are you doing?” Jeongguk asks, still smiling and oblivious, his eyes closed.

Already at the window, you untie the white curtain’s tieback and hold it up. “What about this?”

He opens his eyes and looks at the white piece of fabric in your hand, but doesn’t appear too skeptical. “For what purpose?”

“Blindfold.”

Trying to keep a positive and somewhat fear free mindset, it still hurts when you see how he immediately connects the blindfold to how you shielded your chest from his eyes. There’s pain and there’s guilt swimming in his dark eyes.

“You can, but please don’t do anything you don’t want to.”

“I won’t,” you promise.

“Okay then.”

With his permission, you place the folded sash over his eyes and tie it in the back, careful not to trap any hairs. When you’re done, you take another second to look at him. There is something so irresistible about him, something that has your heart yearning and your body pulled in. He’s so warm, both body and presence. You bite your lip, using your hand to trace his cheek softly while thinking about how he’s so conflicting. What if you want to stay here forever? Curl up like this where he can’t touch you, and lean your head against his neck where he can’t see you?

Like the time when you kissed three days ago, you touch your thumb to his soft lips, and you let the smile and the mask you’ve been wearing fall. Quietly, you stand up, and you take a step back.

“I thought you were going to kiss me?” Jeongguk jokes lightly.

You don’t know what to say, stuck in your footing to the floor and how he can’t see you. It’s like a weight has dropped from your shoulders, but your heart still feels heavy.

“I’m sorry.”

Not picking up the real meaning behind your words, Jeongguk tilts his head. “Okay. It’s alright. Why don’t you uncuff me and we can maybe order dinner instead?”

“I’m leaving tonight.”

“Wait… what?” he straightens up, struggling to process your words, “Why?”

But you go silent again, unsure of exactly how you’ll ever be able to tell him everything. He calls your name, sounding stressed, and you hear how he tugs on the cuffs.

“You scare me.”

He stops, and you can tell by the way he seems to almost be holding his breath that it wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear.

“I… I understand that you’ve been through a lot, but I’m never going to hurt you.”

You keep your eyes on him, feeling like he, himself most likely believes what he’s saying. But it’s not that easy.

“I know… that all in all, you’re a good man. You want to help me and others, and I know you said that not even when you thought I was the most selfish person in the world would you be able to hurt me physically. But you had no problem hurting me in other ways.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry for what I did. I’ve apologized for that, and I’ll keep doing it.”

“I don’t know how to read you,” you add, disregarding what he said because he has apologized, but not in the way that you needed. Not in a way that really matters to you. If this man hasn’t had you broken in a thousand pieces and still insisted on stepping on the remains.

So you keep going. “You look sweet–you’ve been sweet, but you look just like him. Hoseong was sweet too, until he wasn’t. And you… you have this desire to hurt, you want to inflict pain on those who wrong you or who you think have done you wrong. What happens if you think I’ve done something you don’t agree with?”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions without talking to you, I’m not making the same mistake again–”

“What if I actually do something you don’t like?”

For a few seconds, he goes quiet. “I’m not going to hurt you ever again, I promise.”

You fiddle with your hands, glancing down at them. “Are you sure? It was so easy for you, using all my weaknesses against me and breaking me down without ever asking me for my side of the story. And it scares me how you, during the mission, showed just how easy it was for you to one moment act like you could stand me–looking just as sweet as you do now–then angrily tear me down the next.”

It hurts in your whole body but the worst pain originates from your chest. You feel small, insignificant, but also like you take up too much room.

“I know that you probably don’t want to hurt me physically, and that you’re a better man than most, and at first when we came back, it wasn’t too difficult to ignore what you…. think of me, but now…? I kissed you, and you kissed me back, and it just… everything is coming back. I’ve been trying to tell myself that you wouldn’t hurt me at all anymore and that maybe you even like me like I like you, but I know that you don’t. Which in turn makes it hard to know why you’re doing all of this. I think maybe you feel guilty or want to be nice? Give me a chance even though I’m not your… type. But I… I like you. I really, really like you.”

It’s easier to admit than you originally thought, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “I want to look at you every second of the day and my hands absolutely yearn to touch you all over. But I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want you to look at me. I don’t want to be perceived at all. I know that if I stay here and show myself to you, you will not like what you see. You will be disappointed.”

Jeongguk shakes his head, not straining against the cuffs anymore but taking on a calmer approach. “It’s not true. I really do like you, and I think you’re really pretty. Please, I apologized for the things I said, and I’ll do it again. I’m really sorry; I just said those things because I wanted to hurt you. “

“You did. You hurt me, and I’m hurt. You apologized for wanting to hurt me, but you’ve never impli–actually, It doesn’t matter. I know what I look like, it’s kinda hard to forget when you’re constantly reminded. You and your friends came for every single flaw of mine, Jeongguk. “

“I only continued because you never seemed fazed by it.”

“‘I never seemed–’”, you stop to chuckle in disbelief. Your eyes are tearing up as you recall the moments you’re about to remind him of.

“Are you saying that you never noticed that I stopped eating lunch at the cafeteria after what you did? Hoseong said that maybe someone would actually like me if I ‘ate less,’ and you laughed like it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard. That was the day after you walked past me in the cafeteria, saying ‘leave some for the rest of us, why don’t you?’ Jihyo brought cookies for her birthday two weeks later, and you suggested–in front of everyone–that maybe I should do something else with my mouth besides eat. I criticized the fact that no male officer wanted to work on ‘low-rewarding’ cases like my trafficking case, and you… Do you remember what you said?”

Your eyes are already blurry with silent tears, and you feel the humiliation drown you. There’s no way to go, nowhere to hide. People like Jeongguk are watching, inspecting and observing every little part of you. Your bottom lip trembles.

Jeongguk is silent. If he could see, he’d be looking at your feet. You were right to blindfold him because you would’ve never been able to speak so earnestly had you not. Although you like him, and he’s been so kind and sweet to you, you’re back to feeling like nothing in his eyes.

“‘It’s not about the case; it’s about you. You couldn’t pay me to even look at you. In fact, I bet not even the traffickers would take you, otherwise we would’ve definitely traded you.’”

The pain radiates from your chest, leaving no cell of your body unaffected at the implications. You are so ugly and disgusting to him that if he had the chance, he would’ve sacrificed you to a fate no one should ever have to face.

He doesn’t give you a reaction now either; he just sits there with his head lowered. But this is your one chance to tell him how you really feel. You take a big, shaky breath.

“I was doing okay before all of this. Sure, I’ve always known that I have a lot of flaws, but I was doing okay. But you’ve said over and over again that I disgust you, my body makes you want to hurl, you wouldn’t fuck me if your life depended on it, etcetera. It takes its toll. Eating around men gives me anxiety, even if I try to hide it. I cover up my… shoulders as much as I can because I can hear you describe them as ‘manly,’ and how every man within earshot chuckles.

“I wear thick bras and tops, especially around you, because you made it a habit to comment on my breasts and how unfortunately shaped and sized they are. I remember how you asked me how on earth I ever expected Hoseong to like me when I had the ‘saggiest tits in the district.’ And I remember the field day you had when you found out they’re a bit uneven, finding a way to lower your rating of me from a 0.5 out of 10 to a 0.1. Then you asked the other men for their opinion and rating. Or how you’ve so kindly informed me that I didn’t have the tits for that pretty, blue dress and that it looked awful on me. Are you saying that you didn’t notice that whatever you’ve commented on, I’ve never worn again? Not even anything similar?

“I don’t wear tighter pants without a longer shirt to cover my ‘misshapen,’ ‘unfeminine’ hips and the ‘weird dips’ you’ve laughed at, and whenever work dress codes require me to, I’ve avoided you and other men the best I could.

“I wore a skirt to work once, and when I ran into you before changing into my uniform, you said that skirts are for pretty girls and that no one wanted to see my… cellulite. You took every chance to remind me that I have myself to blame for being undesirable, and that men weren’t the problem, I am, and ‘how wasn’t I ashamed for thinking someone like Hoseong could ever like me?’

"Believe me, I was ashamed. I am ashamed. Do you think I never considered just… drinking the poisoned coffee? Or just starting the car even though I knew the brakes wouldn’t work? If there was a way to get rid of one’s body, believe me, I would’ve. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t know what he did to me at the time because how I looked never changed. But looking like you do, I get that you don’t understand how it is to walk around, filled with shame for existing in such an unfortunate body, but I can tell that you want to be better. Maybe you feel bad and want to give me a free trial of how it is to be with a Good Man. Or you want to do the ‘right thing’ so that your dad would be proud? I don’t know, but I can’t ignore the fact that I know how you really perceive me and how you are so far out of my league, it’s embarrassing to even stand here and say it.

"So while I appreciate everything you’ve done for me cause I’d be dead and gone without you, I can’t stay here. You want someone to hold hands with and to buy flowers for, but that’s not for people like me.”

Finally done, you wipe the tears that fall, and you shakily swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat.

“Take the blindfold off and uncuff me,” he begs, once again straining against the handcuffs. You know he isn’t getting out of them, and while he could stand up, the chair is too heavy for him to just pull along with him when he’s got the blindfold on and no sight. He knows, just as well as you, that there’s no use.

“No.”

“Then listen to me; none of that was true. You are so pretty, so breathtaking. I like you so much.”

“Forgive me for not believing you. If you really thought I was even remotely pretty, there have been countless opportunities for you to say so. Or even just a ‘hey, you know you’re not actually as revolting as I told you.’”

“I… I didn’t want to overwhelm you or have you doubt my intentions, but I’m telling you now that I’ve always thought you to be beautiful.”

You scoff sadly. “Yeah, now when the consequences of your actions have arrived,” you glance down at your feet, feeling so insignificant.

“Please don’t leave.”

“I’ve already packed my stuff.”

“Where are you going? You can’t go home; it isn’t safe there.”

Truly, at this moment, your safety doesn’t seem like your top priority. “I’ll be careful.”

“Can’t you stay with someone, at least?” he bargains, “Jihyo or Sana?”

Another tear falls, and your voice goes quiet. “I want to go home.”

You really do. You haven't been home in months, and you feel like a child sleeping over at a friend's, missing your mom so much it hurts and just wishing she'd come and pick you up.

“I know, but you just gotta hold out a little bit longer. Call Jihyo, please. Do you want me to watch your house twenty-four seven, cause I will.”

You consider his words, and if there’s anything you don’t want, it’s to have him so close again. “Fine. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah…”

With nothing really left to say, you pull your phone out of your pocket, opening the Uber app.

“I’ll uncuff you in a few minutes, I’m just ordering an Uber.”

Luckily, a car is only three minutes away, and so with quick fingers you confirm it. You packed your stuff three hours ago in case this would be the outcome, something you’re very grateful for now. Maybe, maybe, if he had said something, you would’ve kissed him and decided to stay, hoping that he was being honest. But you know that you might be a sweet girl to him, but you're not a pretty girl.

A minute passes, and you sigh sadly. “Okay, I’m gonna open the handcuffs, but I’m begging you, Jeongguk, stay there until I’m gone, okay? Don’t remove the blindfold, please?”

It’s his turn to seemingly consider what you’re saying. What you did, agreeing to call Jihyo, was for him and respecting his wishes. So he has to respect yours. He can’t rip off the blindfold the moment you twist the key in the cuffs and try to persuade you to stay, no matter if he wants to.

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You decide to trust him, and with the key belonging to the cuffs, you round the chair where he’s sitting. Kneeling like before, you manage to unlock one of the cuffs in two seconds, and the metal clinks as it falls off his wrist. Instead of freeing his other wrist as well, you grasp his free hand and put the key into his palm, closing his fist around it.

Though you shouldn’t have expected him to be entirely quiet and still, because while he doesn’t make any move to rise from the chair or remove the blindfold, he does swiftly grab your hand, holding it firmly. Despite being blindfolded, it definitely feels like he’s staring straight at you behind him.

“Don’t believe anything any of us said, please. You really are so gorgeous, and not only that but you’re incredibly smart and hard-working. You’re amazing, and I will regret what I did to you for the rest of my life.”

But you hurt so much on the inside that you don’t say anything to that, you just pull your hand out of his grasp.

author's note: so.... anyway, uh... like, comment, and subscribe <333

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firstdivisiongirl · 1 year ago

Note

Babe please I got to see Izana, Chifuyu, Haitani brothers, and Kazutora reacting to reader suddenly giving them a kiss on their cheek and even leaving a lipstick stain on them

Hey there. I was actually wanting to write something like this before you even requested this. Thank you so much. Hopefully, you like it!

Izana, Chifuyu, Haitani Brothers, and Kazutora Reacting Getting a Kiss on Their Cheek and Leaving a Lipstick Stain on Them

Izana Kurokawa:

He hasn’t really felt love from anyone in his life.

Thanks a lot Karen!

But once he finds you he feels so happy and loved.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get flustered.

So when you kiss him on the cheek randomly, he is shocked

And he blushes

Not a ton because he doesn’t want his men to see him all flustered.

He doesn’t even blush that much when Kakucho points out that he has red lipstick on his cheek

But on the inside he is freaking out

In a good way of course

Chifuyu Matsuno:

Boy loves all things romance and love.

But he has little luck when it comes to love.

So when you say that you’ll go out with him. He is so happy!

But when you do something cute, his cheeks are pink.

He can’t help but blush.

But when you randomly kiss him on the cheek and leave a lipstick stain..

Chifuyu.exe stopped working

Boy is red as a tomato and can’t speak

Like Izana, he is a bigger mess on the inside.

Baji smiles a little at how in love Chifuyu is

Ran Haitani:

Ran is a ladies’ man

Nothing with women phase him, unlike Chifuyu and Izana

So when you give him a kiss on his cheek, he isn’t even phased

Rin thinks he is a smug idiot

But in reality, Ran is extremely happy

If anyone else besides you did this, you wouldn’t be happy but more because he doesn’t like them like he likes you

He just doesn’t want to show an weakness because if he does, someone could use you against him

He’s a good guy like that

But just know he will return the favor

Expect a kiss on the cheek back

Rindou Haitani:

When he gets a S/O, he is a little inexperienced

He just doesn’t know what to do exactly or how to react

It’s not his fault

He can be a little awkward

But you love him anyways

When you kiss him randomly, he doesn’t get it

He is so confused

So he asked you why you did that

You tell him because he’s really cute and you wanted to his is cute little cheeks

Let’s just say, Ran will never stop teasing Rin now about his “cute little cheeks”

Kazutora Hanemiya:

Oh poor boy.

He didn’t know what real love was for the longest time

But after he meets you, he now knows what it is.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t confused

After you kiss him on the cheek randomly, he doesn’t know what’s going on

Even more so when he has a lipstick stain on his cheek too

He freaks out and calls Chifuyu

His romance encyclopedia

Chifuyu explains that you were just showing him that you love him randomly

He starts to hope you surprise him with more kisses

Please do not copy, modify, translate or repost my writing on other platforms. Comments, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated!

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five-thousand-loaves-of-bread · 10 months ago

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“dont feel comfortable share my autism level or support needs, AKA own medical information, online to strangers” ok yeah understandable

“don’t personally like autism levels or support needs n don’t feel they accurate describe own experience” ok am not gonna tell you how to feel about self

“autism levels & support needs arbitrary and needlessly divisive and useless and only separates autistics so will not be tolerating levels & support needs” you being ableist asshole and ignorant.

don’t care who you are how you are how you daily life struggle no struggle. don’t care if you been described as or you fit mild or level 1 or low support needs or severe or level 3 or high support needs or everything in between or beyond. by deny this language for everyone, stigmatize this language for everyone, take away this language for everyone— you reinforcing & supporting dominant erasure narrative of autism community.

yes, “autism” alone should be enough. should include everyone autistic. but right now in lots autism community it doesn’t. right now loudest place of autism community make autism mean very specific version of low-to-no support needs, high masking, late/self/undiagnosed, verbal, level 1 invisibly autistic without ID (who often white)—version that not even include everyone with experiences just listed. not to mention erase ignore or downright deny experiences of more marginalized autistics.

so we use term describe ourselves. level 2 level 3 medium support high support. all autistic in one community yes but sometimes we need separate sub-community (especially when main community ignore us be hostile to us bully us mock us, but we deserve regardless, deserve community with people we relate more to). sometimes that separation important. we need word say “our experiences n abilities n world may be different than yours.” we need word for find own sub community. because autism so wide, just by say you autism no one know what you really talk about. because autism so wide but it being forced into something narrower.

especially those us with language disabilities. who can’t go on explain all details. who need quick word. sometimes word “outdated” or imperfect in your opinion, or word you feel icky about when applied to you.

if “autism” been made to mean only “level 1 autism” or “low support needs autism” or “verbal autism” or “high masking autism.” n only when level 2/3 & mid/high support needs adjective mentioned do people mean to include those things. then. we put it back in. if we mean all autism we say all autism. if we mean specifically level 1 autism we say “level 1 autism”. we not leave “level 1” out. we refuse.

it help level 1 (etc long list that not always equal eachother) autistics out too. imagine talk about how “today when talk to friends missed sarcasm” n all comments about “lol you able keep friends (plural)? you already working on sarcasm? am can’t even joint attention” (exaggerated example) actually don’t have to imagine. because don’t you all talk lot about how look up autism n only thing able find is white autistic boy who Really Like Trains (that some you all ableistly mock their stereotypical visible “ugly” symptoms n say not all autistic people embarrassing like that)? yeah imagine that all you find everywhere when you just trying find someone relate. because yeah sometimes you want find little corner of specific people like you to relate to even though you (hopefully?) know autism wider than you n your presentation n your symptoms.

fine if you don’t need all that, or you don’t find these words helpful for you to face this erasure.

not everyone does.

if you speaking for more than yourself. then your world need be bigger than yourself. or people you agree with.

by stigmatize these words, by deny these words, by spread misinformation about these words, you stopping those us who cannot always remember or elaborate on details of our autism. aka. silencing us. which. only make loudest autism people who erase us seem louder.

if you think levels or support needs deny humanity for all maybe that you problem. just like how if you need emphasize person before disability every single time to see them as people maybe that you problem.

levels imperfect. levels important.

support needs imperfect. support needs important.

don’t care who you are. how you are. what you are.

#long post #loaf screm #actually autistic #actuallyautistic

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rosedpetal · 10 months ago

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Until Death Do Us Part

Summary: Harvey and you have been on a rocky road lately, but hopefully, you can still find each other.

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Word count: 932

Warnings: stablished relationship (reader and Harvey are married), mentions of body image struggles, hints at +18 themes.

Masterlist

"No. Absolutely not." Your husband frowned when you came out from the closet wearing your 'costume'.

A huff of annoyance leaves your lips.

"What the fuck is wrong now? Did I gain weight and suddenly you can't get up or something?" Venom drips from your sarcastic remark and Harvey rubs his temples.

"Why are you like this? Jesus Christ, Y/N, it's not about some shit like that, stop trying to make me a bad guy at every given chance!" He snaps. "It's just your stupid wings, okay? You look like you came straight from a Barbie movie, when you said you'd like to roleplay being a fairy, I thought you'd use one of those Lord of the Rings-"

"Those are elves. Not fairies. They don't have wings!" You seethe, taking your plastic wings off and accidentally pressing the light button on them, turning the pink leds on, and Harvey's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I'm sorry if my knowledge in a fictional world lore is lacking, it's because I actually have a real job."

That was cruel and uncalled for and he knew it. Harvey had a bad habit of saying the most callous things without even thinking. It didn't help that he hated the idea of roleplaying from the very beginning.

"How could I forget, it's the only thing you care about!" You raise your voice, and it breaks in the end. "Tonight was supposed to be fun!"

Harvey immediately regrets the jab he made at your wings. Well, it's not that he couldn't get himself to be motivated by you while you were wearing them... It's just that it was fucking weird because he was a grown man and he was pretty sure his kid niece wore the same pink fairy wings every Halloween.

And he could explain that to you, but you just had to make a self deprecating comment about your body and imply that he wasn't man enough to look past his partner putting on some weight.

Which was another ridiculous thing, because, seriously? He couldn't care less if you were a size 2 or 20. It didn't matter. He married you because he loved you, inside and out, and you weren't an airhead that couldn't carry on a conversation with him. He respected you. He was interested in what you had to say (most of the time, at least).

But for months now, you two have been fighting nonstop, and more than often saying some hurtful shit to each other and no longer searching for the comfort of each other's arms in the middle of the night.

He wondered if your sudden self consciousness regarding your body was because you've been stress-eating ever since the chasm between you two was created.

Harvey was selfish, harsh, arrogant and snappy, but he wasn't insensitive to how women sometimes had insecurities that ate them alive.

He sighed, following you in the closet, his chest tightening at the sigh of your angry tears while you put on sweatpants and a top (the sleepwear you wore on nights you made sure no intimacy was gonna happen).

He even agreed on going to therapy with you, which he thought was an admission of defeat, that you two weren't mature enough to solve your problems on your own.

"Honey." He called, his voice soft with regret.

He hates the 'homework' your therapist gives you every week. A dinner date, a little getaway, a road trip, sitting down and talking for an hour. He feels like his own relationship is being scripted and that you can't find common ground anymore.

"What?" You wipe your tears, unable to look at him in the eyes.

"We don't roleplay." He said in a teasing tone. "Why would I want you to pretend to be someone else when you already exist?"

He gently holds your face in both hands, wiping the remaining tears with his thumbs.

"I'm an idiot. I promise my reaction has nothing to do with whatever's been making you feel vulnerable right now. Seriously. The wings just reminded me of halloween, and halloween reminded me of children going trick-or-treating and you don't want your husband to be thinking of children in the bedroom, do you?"

You grimaced. "God, no."

"Glad we're on the same page, babe." He gently pressed his forehead against yours. "Dance with me."

"There's no music." You sniffled.

"We have a nice record player in the living room. Come on, baby."

Gently, he guided you out from the room, his fingers intertwined in yours as he put on some sappy jazz music. He sways barefoot with you on his arms, your head on his chest, and it takes you back to simpler times.

"I'm sorry. For everything." He's the first to speak, and you appreciate the sentiment, because you know how hard it is for him to apologize, specially when he's the first one to bend the knee to make peace.

"We'll get through this." You mumble, and he kisses the top of your head, and suddenly the golden ring on your finger feels lighter.

"I love you more than anything in the world, darling. Please, don't doubt that. I need you to remember that every single day, specially when I'm at my worst."

"I love you too, Harvey."

He knows there's a long way to go, but the little progress you made tonight makes his heart feel more at ease, as long as you're both on the same side, because he knew with every fiber of his being that he meant it when he said 'until death do us part'.

#harvey specter x you #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter imagine #harvey specter fanfic #suits usa #suits fanfic

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ghrgrsfdesfrfg · 3 months ago

Text

Back at it again with another OC, the Iron Maiden ! what are the secret of this serious and elegant toy ?

i hope you'll like her introduction, it took me a while to write, i also had the help of a friend who gave me tips and suggestion, if you read this you know who you are and i thank you.

Picture doesn't belong to me, credits to the artist, found on pinterest.

I wanted to make a toy with element from "The Thing" and add more horror to my ocs, there's also mention of other toy like baron, eudora and the king as well as the mysterious [REDACTED] and the reject.

Writing tips, critics and request are all welcomed here so don't hesitate to send them in the comments.

Some elements might be changed in the future but i'll make an edit if it's the case.

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Archived information about the ‘‘Iron Maiden’’:

-Experiment 1167 known as the ‘‘Iron Maiden’’ was created in 1992 to be the bodyguard of higher-ups of the company but other Maidens were also put to work at a cafe built in the game station.

-She measure 1m85 or 6,06ft in height, her body is separated in 3 parts, the first known as the “outer shell” is made of carbon and metal giving it a metallic shine and rigid movement in some case, the second is the cage inside the “outer shell” who help the final part of the body to work properly as it cover the entire interior and is akin to a skeleton of sort.

[Third part of the body will be discussed in another part of the document].

-Like huggy-wuggy she is capable of extreme act of violence thanks to her unshakable loyalty in the company and natural obedience, making the Iron Maiden an excellent toy for protection in Playtime Co.

Early life :

-Penelope Spencer was an orphan for as long as she could remember as she was given to playtime Co soon after her birth, the only memento of her parents being a letter explaining they couldn’t take care of her because of financial issue and another section with her given name and some apologies for abandoning her.

-Despite this rough start at life Penelope adjusted easily to the life of an orphan and quickly built a reputation of a reliable and obedient child willing to work and take any task given to them, sometime even helping the staff of playtime to organize activities for the children.

-Speaking of the staff, be they counselors, scientist or random cleaning crew she quickly came to associate the staff of playtime as her family even if she would only see them once or everyday. This was swiftly put to use as the staff were ordered to build a good relation with Penelope in order to gain her trust and possibly spy on the children at the orphanage or other task involving collecting information on other children without having to use the counselors or another toy.

-Soon enough she was acting as a spy of sort gathering information on whoever the scientist ordered her to spy and was rewarded with toys, books and better living conditions at the orphanage much to the anger or confusion of the orphans who didn’t understand how Penelope gained such privileges.

-The staff nurtured her loyalty by acting more and more like a family to her, giving her the connection she was always after. Even if she was an asset of the company more and more people came to appreciate her for who she was and not what she was doing for the company, even cold-hearted scientist started to like the blonde girl and her friendly, playful nature.

PROCEDURE :

-She was selected for the procedure rather early in her life and finally taken after turning 11 when the scientists didn’t need her around the orphanage anymore and decided to give her a better station (in their judgment) by turning her into the first Iron Maiden.

-The body and procedure for the Iron Maiden was upgraded and modified several time to make sure only the best candidates could be turned easily and hopefully retain a maximum amount of cognitive functions. The first procedure, specially designed for Penelope, was meant to make her into an even better Maiden compared to the future generations that came after her.

-The procedure was a resounding success despite the grueling process, her vital organs were removed and placed in a vat of Poppy-Gel for 48h in order to fuse with them and being capable of transferring the blob of flesh into it’s new body. Once the organs and Gel have fused they need to be carefully transported into the Maiden’s open body and laid in the cage then closed and left in a room with adequate temperature and constant life support to ensure the blob of flesh can properly awaken and move on it’s own inside the Maiden.

-This so called “Blob of flesh” is all that remains of the subject before being transferred in it’s new body, this mass of moving tissue, fused organs, eyes and deformed hands is capable of moving on it’s own slowly and “possessing” any maiden’s body provided it’s empty. The blob can be carried by hand but protective equipment is needed because it can produce an acidic liquid which can penetrate the skin of a human being with enough time and exposure.

-When placed in a Maiden, it anchors itself to the cage and then adapt to the shape of the body to occupy it in it’s entirety in order to use it, scientists described this disturbing process as “filling up a body with a living, breathing, massive organ and seeing it come to life”, once the adaptation is done the testing of cognitive functions starts such as using the body by moving the hands and legs or speaking because unlike many toys the Maiden doesn’t use a voice-box but modify their own vocal cords to take on a voice they like.

-Penelope or now, the Iron Maiden, adapted to her body extremely quickly despite a short period of confusion and took her security training with disturbing ease while perfecting her stealth and mannerism as she would blend in with the other Maiden’s or toys to gather information or dispose of them if needed.

Work for Playtime.Co :

-With her training done extremely quickly she was handed to Leith Pierre to act as his personal bodyguard and assassin whenever needed, she would also clean his office or bring whatever drinks he required or paper to work on, she was virtually always seen with Leith or never too far away.

-Her targets marked for assassination were often whistle-blowers, nosy journalists or disobedient employees whose usefulness came to an end either because they uncovered something they shouldn’t have or harmed the company’s interest in some way.

-She was also seen handling customers at the cafe in the Game Station when something went wrong or to lead them to a higher-up if they were to meet one although many people reported feeling the “Uncanny Valley” effect when looking at her or another Maiden for too long, this was further amplified by the fact that many Maidens kept their eyes closed (for reason we’ll explain further down this document).

-While she preferred handling her targets alone, she would sometime team up with another Maiden or even the Rat King on rare occasions however the two toys didn’t like each other much as the Maiden was suspicious of the King while he found her to be an uncompromising zealot regarding the company’s order.

-She was rewarded for her work with a better holding cell than most toys and it was more akin to a private room than an actual cell, the food given to her as a result was also of much better quality and she was even permitted to eat with other employees.

Hour of Joy:

-High involvement, she and some other maidens were focused on escorting the few high value employees like Leith Pierre to safety and exterminating whatever toy or adults coming their way, virtually every Maiden sided with the company and started an extermination campaign in the company and the various levels to purge it of the rebellious toys to varying degrees of success.

-Penelope and the [REDACTED] were the sole people responsible for Leith Pierre’s escape to safety much to the absolute rage of the toys who learned of this, Penelope was also responsible for the single highest death toll of any toys in the factory as she tore a bloody path to allow Leith to escape.

-Leith’s final order were for her to work with the [REDACTED] to capture the Prototype and secure the factory to acceptable level no matter the time it took or the methods used to do so. Leith was escorted by a high security team and left the Iron Maiden to her task, one she set out to do immediately.

-She then went to the [REDACTED] level and contacted the [REDACTED] in order to start the reclamation of the factory and capture of the prototype, this is the last know sighting of the Maiden while some toys reports seeing her in the prison alongside the Warden or in the Labs hunting the toys there.

Design:

-The attire of the Maiden is comprised of a maid uniform with an iron diadem, a white and black uniform with a royal symbol at the bottom of the robe. The symbol vary depending on the Maiden’s station and seniority.

-Her hair is made of silk to complete her regal appearance and unfortunately require a lot of maintenance, this is often done by another maiden or two employees dedicated to taking care of her hair.

-Her body is made of carbon with a mix of pliable and lightweight metal in order to sustain damage, contain the blob of flesh and it’s acid at the cost of sometime causing the maid to have rigid movement, especially when walking, talking or even cleaning.

-The first generation of Maiden were forced to keep their eyes closed as the flesh inside of them would bleed out of the socket which forced later generations to be outfitted with a small glass panel in the eye socket to prevent the bleeding.

Abilities:

-The maiden is capable of creating an acidic liquid similar to the bile produced by the stomach, she can use this acid and spit it at the enemy to melt the skin or fur over prolonged exposures and period of time. She can also coat the flesh of her body to use it as a defense mechanism or even specific part of the body such as the hands to create a lethal weapon if she were to grab or punch someone.

-The most horrifying ability of a maiden is to open her body in any way she sees fit as the cage inside her body and the outer shell is capable of splitting open in an almost limitless amount of shape like splitting her head open or even her entire body in half to absorb a very unfortunate target, she can also split another part of her body in various disturbing shape such as forcing her hand to split in dozens of parts to better grab a target.

-Once a target is incapacitated, she will split her body in whatever way she sees fit (often splitting in half) and force the target or pieces of them inside her for consumption, this is even worse for a target who can fit inside her as they are slowly dissolved by the acid and heat of the flesh.

-In some rare occasion, a Maiden is also capable of sticking to the ceiling and crawl on it if the splitting is done in the right way, this was used by some employees to give the scare of a lifetime to other when they saw a Maiden and their exposed flesh looking at them with deformed eyes and hands from the ceiling.

Employees and toy's opinion of the Iron Maiden:

-Leith Pierre who was happy about her service although slightly unnerved by the impassive face or stillness of her body, saying it was “a moving statue, unseen and undetectable”.

-Stella Greyber who saw the Iron Maiden for what they truly were, a security and surveillance system. She didn’t like them and tried to avoid them but was assigned one nonetheless, she would try to converse with the maiden but she found them to be poor conversationalist.

-Harley Sawyer who considered them a massive improvement upon all the other Bigger Body and a masterpiece of union between science and biology, although he was never assigned one because Leith Pierre didn’t trust him with a Maiden.

-The Rat King who hated her because he saw a twisted reflection of himself in her, his loyalty toward his friends and Clara was twisted to become an enforcer for the company while Penelope betrayed all the orphans for some recognition. This unnerved him as it showed him what he could’ve been, a monster dedicated to the company willing to do anything to please them.

-Baron Bon-Bon who was scared of her, seeing her as an assassin ready to strike anyone whom the company saw as a burden, he worked harder when she was around, desperate to not be seen as a target much to the twisted amusement of the employees.

-Eudora who did her best to avoid the Maiden and worked quietly when she was around, scared of the quiet monster who loomed around her train, she sadly had to work with the Maiden on some occasion when delivering certain items to the lower levels of playtime.

-The [REDACTED] who saw her as the perfect tool and ally, willing to strike down anyone and do anything in the name of the company no matter how gruesome the order is. The [REDACTED] who worked with her even after the Hour of Joy and upgraded her when needed to continue her sinister purpose.

The others Maidens who saw her as the example to follow when it came to service, obedience and performance as she was a toy held in high regard by the highest employees of the company, none faltered from doing their job be it serving customers or killing a curious journalist.

Trivia :

-Penelope was said to always be smiling or trying to cheer up other, this facade was never broken and served to gain the trust of other children. While she wasn’t as popular as David Bohman she still managed to gain a large group of friends and some of them even helped her to spy on other children although they didn’t know it was to help the company.

-Some called her a “Mini miss-Delight” due to her happy and sunny smile, always saying how her presence brightened a room with happiness and joy, she had few bullies and would even turn older, meaner children to her side in a few days at most.

-Her room was bigger and more comfortable than most orphans thanks to her service for the company as a child, her room had a radio, a bookshelf along with many toys that few orphans could afford or even obtain in the company.

-The first time her procedure was truly discussed with her was when she saw other Bigger Bodies such as Catnap or the Baron and asked a scientist if she could get a “cool body like them”, her wish was granted sooner than she ever expected.

-Even as a bodyguard for Leith Pierre himself she was still required to work at the cafe and often dealt with complaints or rowdy customers (as rowdy as someone can get drinking tea or coffee), she didn’t hate this part of her job but she appeared notably happier when she could roam around the Game Station following some employees or potential target.

-An avid consumer of tea, especially lavender tea which would often be shared with other Maidens or any employees who were nearby.

-As a child she enjoyed the Treasure Hunt of Baron Bon-Bon and won it many times, earning her two Brass Compass and a Golden Coin with her own face on it. She would also play with Mommy Long-Legs a lot, finding it fun to try and tangling her legs.

-Stella Greyber notoriously hated the Iron Maiden for who and what she was, a security system. This ironically put her high on the list of people to be watched by the Maiden much to the ire of Stella who complained to Leith about it, only to be told that each Head of the company (except Harley Sawyer) was assigned one to serve as an assistant.

-Penelope, even as the Iron Maiden would often read her books and even write some herself, most were fairy-tales or folklore from her country and had varying success with the orphans of Playcare.

-The Iron Maiden stealth’s was almost as good as the Rat King, the two would often be compared in some competition amongst the guards and made bets on who could fight the other or best them in various stealth-based bet. She could move around silently while standing up and even sneak up on someone in broad daylight and appear as if she suddenly teleported.

-Her eyes were almost always closed and despite this she could move around a huge crowd or in complete darkness without much trouble, she would only smile when asked how she could do this.

-She was later given the glass panels all Maiden were later equipped with but even then, her eyes would remain closed at all time but those who saw them said they had a beautiful purple color.

-During the Hour of Joy she would fight against many Bigger Body such as Boxy-Boo, the Reject (who made the most damage and was the most difficult to fight off) and huggy-wuggy already weakened after his fight with Eudora, few wounds or scratch were present on her body.

-Her collaboration with the [REDACTED] is a closely guarded secret and those who knows of it often try to understand their plan, only to receive an unexpected visit from the Maiden and be left with grievous wounds or outright dead.

-To this day few Maidens are left and most toy in the factory knows better than to mess with the ivory-faced Maiden, she never hunts them but word of her presence on a level of the factory is often enough to incite the toys to retreat until her departure.

141 notes · View notes

inuyashaluver · 1 year ago

Note

hi angel!! was wondering if you could do a grace clinton x reader fic where they’re doing media together and everyone is speculating that they have something going on bc of their chemistry?? thank youuu i love your fics!

chemistry - grace clinton

grace clinton x reader

description: in which you and your best friend are always caught up in dating rumours

warnings: really not any?

a/n: kicking off pride month with gracie girl!!! hello, lovely!! love love love this request, too cute 🥺🥺 thank you so much for the love ❤️❤️❤️ enjoy! happy pride month to all of you!!

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if there was something to know about you and your best friend, grace, the two of you were two peas in a pod. the two of you were quite literally attached at the hip, and you have been ever since you were 15.

and if you were to tell those cheeky 15 year olds that you were now dating, they would’ve said you were crazy.

—

you and grace were slight opposites and that’s what made the two of you so balanced out. the two of you were extremely cheeky and always getting caught into mischief.

yet, you could be reserved at times, needing a little extra time to open up to people, but grace always made it easier.

grace helped you out of your shell from a young age, and a lot of your teammates found that you calmed grace down a lot when she got over excited.

your relationship was pure, it just worked, it was fun and exciting yet heartfelt and genuine.

you both played together for england and followed grace around to different clubs. it was rare to see the two of you apart.

—

back in 2022, the two of you moved in together as you both played for manchester united, and during this time, you by very high demand made a tiktok account to document your daily life.

they were regular videos, some silly ones, serious ones, you didn’t think much of it until they blew up because of yours and grace’s videos.

videos of the two of you giggling on the couch playing with filters, or going to training together. people couldn’t deny the chemistry between the two of you.

you tried to act like the shipping comments didn’t affect you but they did. you harboured a crush on grace but pushed it aside knowing that the comments made her uncomfortable, as she would never look you in the eye when you would bring them up.

but what you didn’t know was that the comments overwhelmed grace because she thought she was being too obvious.

if people on the internet were catching on to her massive crush, she would surely be caught out by you. but of course, the two of you were clueless.

—

in 2023, you and grace both got loaned to tottenham and that’s when things really kicked off.

“hey, everyone! today i’m doing a get ready with me for game day” you smile at your phone propped up on the mirror of your bathroom.

you were chatting mindlessly, explaining who the match was against, how you were feeling, what was going to happen in the process.

these were your most popular videos, and you loved to make them to communicate with the fans.

“i’m feeling good today, hopefully i get to start, i had a niggle in my hip that was bothering me for the last two weeks and haven’t been able to play” you pout slightly at the camera, fixing up your hair the way you liked it for the game.

suddenly, grace comes in the room, sending the camera a cheeky grin as her arms wrapped around your middle, chin resting on your shoulder.

“gracie girl is here” you chuckle, growing louder when grace playfully pinches your waist with a quick kiss to your cheek.

she stares at you affectionately through the mirror, ready for the game and clearly waiting for you. she fixes a stray hair away from your forehead with her arms still wrapped around you tightly.

“why don’t you tell everyone why you have a niggle in your hip?” she laughs, you glare at her through the mirror, your hard gaze meeting with her amused one.

“no” you grit, trying to take grace’s arms off you but she was stronger, “yes” she quips, a shit eating grin evident on her face.

“grace, no, stop it” you warn, grace shakes her head, really wanting you to say the real reason you’ve been out for two weeks.

“fine, i’ll say it” she grins, your eyes widen, you turn in her arms, your hand clasping over her mouth as you glare at her, letting out a squeal when grace licks the palm of your hand. you could be a germaphobe at times.

“fuck, clinton, that’s gross!” you grimace, washing your hands immediately, clearly a bad idea because grace grabs your phone and makes a run for it.

you let out a heavy sigh, fighting a smile at the corner of your lips hearing grace’s little excited giggles.

“(y/n/n) hurt her hip because i stole her water bottle and she chased me in the rain and fell right on the pitch” she laughs, hearing you groaning from the bathroom.

“but don’t worry guys, i carried her everywhere and kissed her better” she says cheekily.

you laugh as grace comes back to you, pressing her cheek to yours as she held the phone close to your faces, both of you making silly faces.

you cut the video and get dressed into your kit, making grace film your finished look which really caught the attention of the fans.

“okay guys, final outfit, literally the spurs kit” you do a little spin and grace lets out a whistle, “so beautiful” she says adoringly, your cheeks slowly turning pink before you scrambled to get the phone off grace.

—

13,456 comments

gracex(y/n)fann: we love silly girlfriends

↳ (y/n)lover13: girlfriends? i thought they were best friends?

↳ ilovewoso: they are best friends

↳ wosofan99: they’re definitely dating, the way grace looks at her 😩

gracesfangirl: anyone else think they’re flirting orrr?

↳ (y/n)ismywife: they’re flirting so hard i feel so lonely

↳ graciestar: you and me both😞

—

you and grace continued to make videos and the popularity grew more and more on your account.

so much so, later on when you and grace made the senior lioness team, they always paired you up for media days.

—

“hello, i’m (y/n) (y/l/n)” grace says cheekily, you hold back a laugh, “and i’m grace clinton” you say back matching her energy. grace glances at you quickly with a smile before turning back to the camera.

“today, we are doing a food challenge, which will be interesting because gracie is a picky eater” you chuckle, receiving immediate protests from grace,

“nah, you’re picky too!” she accuses, pointing her finger at you sternly before gently booping the tip of your nose.

you scrunch your nose up slightly at the action, grace can’t help but blush a little at your soft gaze, quickly snapping out of it knowing you were on camera.

“okay, i’m a little picky but grace is a lot more picky than me” you shrug, looking down at the covered plate in front of the two of you.

“okay, whatever” grace scoffs teasingly, bumping your hip with hers. “so, we will be doing rock, paper scissors and one of us will be blindfolded, and then we guess the food” grace explains.

your eyes were trained on her the entire time she spoke, and when she turned to see you already looking at her, her heart sped up faster than her playing a full 90 minutes.

“let’s go!” you smile, turning to grace to start rock, paper, scissors. and of course, grace won.

she snickered as she gestured you to spin around, gently tying the blindfold over your eyes and spinning you around by your shoulders after she was done.

“is it too tight?” she asks with a hint of worry, you mindlessly wave out your hands, feeling for grace’s face, both of you giggling when you cupped her cheeks.

“nah, i’m good, hurry up!” you pinch her cheek, making her roll her eyes and face the camera.

“so impatient” she mouths, smiling before taking your hands off her face, squeezing them quickly before taking the closh off the plate.

and when it was opened, there were two little bowls, one with ice cream and one with hot sauce. clearly, the media team wanted you both to be evil, but grace couldn’t do that to you.

she spoons the ice cream into your mouth and you smile, “too easy, ice cream” you giggle, grace wiping off the remainder on the corner on your mouth, licking off the excess.

“well done” she praises, squeezing your bicep gently before moving to take off your blindfold after the media team presented a new plate.

the next time, you won and grace had a go at being blindfolded, and you felt a little cheeky with the options. one being wasabi and the other being peanut butter.

you scooped up the teenist amount of wasabi and instantly felt bad as it made way to her mouth. she immediately grimaced and coughed, you handed her water immediately and giggled when grace assured she was okay.

“that was disgusting” she coughs as you take the blindfold off, you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her down into a tight hug, uttering apologies as you kissed her cheek repeatedly.

grace flushed completely, her hand pressed firmly into the small of your back.

“i can’t believe i did that” you say against her cheek, holding her close with an apologetic smile, grace chuckles as she held you, pulling away slightly to press her own kiss against your cheek that had you flushed as well.

both of you pulled away with a clear of your throats, continuing the video with shy glances at each other. and like clockwork, the video. blew. up.

—

40,232 comments

graceswife: okay there is no way these two aren’t married with three children

↳ (y/n)swife: they have grandkids too, there’s no way they’re friends

ilovewoso: …i’m questioning everything i know

↳ (y/n)lover13: …so am i

graceand(y/n): i don’t know if i want to be (y/n) or grace

wosofan: grace, can you fight?

—

you both didn’t expect the amount of attention you were getting. gaining more and more followers, as well as an increasing amount of dm’s and comments questioning your’s and grace’s relationship.

on a free saturday, you were sitting on the couch in your shared flat, scrolling through endless comments about you and grace. you were up earlier than her, as grace liked to sleep in.

you looked worried as you scrolled, breathing a little heavily with a pit in your stomach growing. maybe you were coming on too strong? grace was probably so uncomfortable, you should have known better.

you couldn’t help the tears pricking in your eyes, it was overwhelming. you loved grace, you really did, and you felt occasionally that she might feel the same but the uncertainty grew larger through the years.

you heard the door of grace’s room open and you hurriedly wiped your tears, grace heard the sniffles and rushed over to where you were, worry flooding over her features.

“love?” grace says cautiously, heart breaking as you turned to her with a tearful smile, “morning” you choke out, grace moves around the couch to sit next to you, her hand grabbing yours and interlocking them.

“love, what’s wrong?” grace asks softly, her free hand wiping a stray tear escaping your eye. you take a deep, shaky breath, subconsciously moving closer to the girl you loved so much.

“the comments on the video we made is just a lot to handle” you breathe out, fighting back the tears seeing grace’s concerned face.

“the ones about us?” grace clarifies, you nod, your hand squeezing hers a little tighter. “you don’t like them?” grace asks cautiously.

“i just think i’d like for them to be true” you say after a moment of silence, bracing for the impact of rejection from your best friend.

“we can make them true” grace says without hesitation, her demeanour changing completely knowing you felt the same.

to say you froze was an understatement, your eyes meeting with grace made your body feel like it was on fire.

“i’ve always wanted that, babe” grace says earnestly, smiling brightly at your look of relief. “i have too” you say shyly, hearing grace tutt next to you.

“and you didn’t say anything? tsk” she mocks, her face stoic for a split second before you both broke out in a fit of giggles.

“you didn’t say anything either” you roll your eyes teasingly, “i didn’t say it verbally, no, physically, yes” she says charmingly, moving forward to place a kiss on your cheek.

she smiled feeling it grow warm under her lips, pulling away with a satisfied smirk. but what she didn’t expect was you leaning in for a kiss on her cheek, grace moving her head so your lips met with hers gently.

you pulled away slight with a surprised expression but leaned forward again until your lips just ghosted over hers, teasing her with a smile.

“so annoying” she joked, her hand making its way to your cheek and pulling you in for a kiss.

you giggle against her lips and she bites your bottom one warningly, both of you heavy breathing as grace lowered your back to meet with the couch, both of you kissing breathlessly in a languid, yet loving kiss.

when grace pulled away, she took in your appearance, kiss swollen lips with enlarged pupils, admiring how beautiful you looked, knowing you were doing the same with her.

both of your eyes twinkled. you both knew the wait was worth it to get to this moment.

—

“hey guys, today we are doing a get ready with me for camp for the lionesses” you smile at the camera, hearing a snicker coming from beside you.

“i have a very special guest for this one” you say cheekily, glancing over at grace with a knowing smile, holding out your hand for her.

she took it instantly, letting you drag her into the frame, grace with a bright smile that made your heart feel warm.

“my special guest is my girlfriend” you grin up at her, letting grace peck your lips quickly knowing it would go crazy on the internet.

“before we start, baby, i want to answer a question i saw in your comments” grace says pleadingly.

you giggle and nod, your girlfriend squeezes your hips gratefully as she kissed your cheek.

“to answer your questions, yes i can fight, and i will” she says with a hint of anger in her words, wrapping you up in a tight hug from behind as she kissed your cheek repeatedly, deja vu from the first video that gained a lot of attention.

your hands rest on grace’s with a loving smile before you helped each other get ready, answering some questions as you go along for fun.

when the video got posted, everyone flooded the video with messages of support, feeling the pure love emanating from the both of you.

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you know the drill - imagine it’s you! ily tooneyyy