[Translated Comic] This Is (not) Our First 520

Renjun, talking to a ghost about a flashlight: Turn it on if you want to hurt us.

[Light Turns On]

Jeno: Fucking shit- God. Why do you keep asking questions like that. What’s wrong with you? Do you want to fucking die?!

Writing Tips

Words to Avoid

This does not include dialogue.

These can be used (of course, it’s your writing!) just try to make sure they are not overused.

❉

↳ tell & don’t show

➳ telling words force the reader away from the story; showing immerses them

➝ consider

➝ decide

➝ feel / felt

➝ got

➝ has / have / had

➝ hear / heard

➝ is / are / was / were / am

➝ look

➝ next

➝ notice

➝ ponder

➝ recall

➝ remember

➝ see / saw

➝ smell

➝ taste

➝ then

➝ think / thought

➝ watch

➝ wonder

❉

↳ extra & can be removed

➳ declutter your writing; keeping your story concise holds the attention of the reader better

➝ absolutely

➝ completely

➝ down / up

➝ just

➝ really

➝ totally

➝ very

❉

↳ vague

➳ don’t make the reader guess what you mean; show them exactly what you’re describing

➝ a little

➝ a lot

➝ about

➝ almost

➝ appear

➝ approximately

➝ few

➝ like

➝ lots

➝ many

➝ might

➝ more

➝ most

➝ much

➝ often

➝ perhaps

➝ rather

➝ roughly

➝ seem

➝ some (somebody, somehow, someone, something, sometime, somewhat, somewhere)

➝ thing

❉

↳ absolutes

➳ don’t give the reader the opportunity to find discrepancies in your story

➝ absolute

➝ all

➝ always

➝ complete

➝ entire

➝ every (everybody, everyone, everything, every time, everywhere)

➝ never

➝ none

❉

↳ adverbs

➳ be as concise and meaningful as possible; every word you use should be the ideal descriptor

➝ anything ending in ‘-ly’

➝ if you’re using ‘-ly’ there is a better verb or adjective to use

➝ angrily, quickly, sadly, softly, suddenly, etc.

❉

↳ continuous action words

➳ these words reduce the sense of urgency; keep your readers hooked by keeping the tension

➝ after

➝ as

➝ continued

➝ when

➝ while

➝ ‘-ing’ verbs

❉

↳ transitions

➳ transition words allow writers to avoid finding connections between sentences, but meaningful connections increase immersion and flow

➝ after

➝ also

➝ anyway

➝ as

➝ besides

➝ even though

➝ finally

➝ however

➝ later

➝ meanwhile

➝ next

➝ so

➝ soon

➝ then

#thankyouwoojin

forever and always, nine or none. woojin, thank you so much for everything you have given stays during your time in stray kids. we will always love and support you, and good luck with your future endeavors! take care, and you will always be one of the stars in my galaxy 💫

⋆ Story Teaser: Only Old Memories Remain ⋆

Can I pkease request for someone who's trying to impress their partner as much as they can cause its their first love?

wanting to impress your partner

'' you're doing good. ''

'' it's already perfect, all right, you are enough. ''

'' i want this night to be special. ''

'' i want [our first kiss] to be special. ''

'' you deserve everything. ''

'' it's my job to spoil you. ''

'' breathe. ''

'' am i dreaming? '' '' nope. this is all me. ''

'' i've never felt this way before. ''

'' you brought me flower? ''

'' you don't have to do this. '' '' i want to do this. ''

'' come with me. '' '' what have you planned? ''

'' oh my god, it's beautiful... ''

'' you did this all by yourself? ''

'' what do you want in return? '' '' maybe a kiss or two. ''

'' close your eyes. i have a surprise for you. ''

'' just something small. '' '' something small? this must have taken hours... ''

'' if you're trying to impress me, it worked. ''

'' i wanted you to have something to remember me by. ''

'' gotta give a good first impression, right? ''

'' you mean for our next date? '' '' i was thinking third anniversary. ''

'' you said your ex never did these things, so i took it upon myself. ''

'' it's not too over the top, is it? ''

'' i know just my company is enough, but sometimes, all i want to do is spoil you. ''

─── 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 4.7k | content: fluff (i promise), slight insecurities, comfort, 5 times he says yes and 1 time he says no

notes: ok ok so guys !! i know i’ve been posting angst recently so i offer you comfort sae !! <3 this man has my entire heart so i’m just gonna embrace it hehe may or may not have been thinking of ‘daylight’ when i wrote this .

summary: the way sae loves you is beautiful. it’s nothing like you envisioned and something you never knew you needed.

“be my girlfriend, then, idiot.”

he’s handsome, seventeen.

even more handsome when he’s on the field, being the beast you know he is. he dribbles past everyone like they’re robots, like they’re snails. he gets into the penalty area and scores, and everyone in the stand cheers.

if there’s one common knowledge in your high school, it’s that itoshi sae is one of the world’s best soccer players.

maybe it’s no wonder that you’re holding a bag full of gifts for sae for valentines, being assistant manager for your school’s soccer team. it’s astounding how heavy this bag is. but you’ll know that in the end, whatever’s inside will likely get distributed between the entire team anyway, given how sae never accepts a single one.

“is it that time of the year again?” sae sighs, squirting water from his bottle into his mouth, towel hanging around his neck as he walks out of the locker room shirtless, fresh after a shower and hair all damp, sticking to the sides of his face.

still handsome.

“would it kill you to accept at least one of them?”

you expect one of his usual retorts—maybe a yes or a one of them could be poisonous. but instead, he grabs the bag from you, still frowning. “fine then,” he says, opening the bag and peering inside before he turns his gaze back onto you, “which one’s from you?”

the one with the purple post-it attached to sae’s favourite candy bar.

“i didn’t give you any, itoshi,” you lie, keeping your calm and crossing your arms. but sae cocks a brow because he doesn’t believe you. “really!”

“yeah, you sure about that?” sae’s tone takes a surprisingly gentle turn, and you find it hard to get used to. especially when it’s coupled with an amused expression.

“really, i’d die before giving anything to a grump like you.”

sae nods his head like he doesn’t believe you and starts rifling through the contents. he takes something out—a candy bar with a purple post-it attached to it. you can’t escape from him even if you tried.

“you’re the most irritating smart handsome guy i know, i hope you make it to the big leagues, i’ll never get tired of watching you play,” sae reads out loud, monotonously because it’s his way of mocking you. his gaze shifts from the note up to you, and he has his answer by your unwillingness to meet his eyes. “slick.”

“oh, shut up,” you tell him before turning on your heels and walking off.

“you want me so bad.”

“you wish, itoshi sae.”

“hey, take the rest of these away from me,” sae calls after you, referring to the big bag of valentines’ gifts you’d just left him with.

you turn around, walking backwards. “i’m not your girlfriend, itoshi, not my job!”

sae smirks. “be my girlfriend then, idiot.”

taken off guard, you fail to watch where you’re walking and fall over a broom, knocking several of the janitor’s stuff over. sae runs over, straight-faced while he holds his hand out to you.

“damn klutz,” he remarks as he pulls you up on your feet.

you’re thankful sae’s not the kind to make jokes like how he swept you off your feet, but the close proximity is making you giddy, in a good way, and you’re not sure you want to pass up on that.

“so?”

“so what, itoshi? and let me go,” you say, trying to pull away from him. he doesn’t let go though.

“say yes, then i’ll let go,” he tells you, and you can feel his breath fanning your lips and you’re sure he’s having a field day watching you get flustered.

“sure you want me, itoshi sae?” because a part of you finds that hard to believe, with the way he rejects other girls left and right and barely feels any remorse.

but what you don’t know is how different you are to him. if he dare say, special. maybe it’s the way you’ve always seemed like the stubborn kind, the kind of girl that refuses to ask for help but secretly wants to be protected. the kind of girl who can always help herself, but kill him if he thinks you’re someone who wouldn’t mind having someone to lean on.

maybe at some point, he started to want to be that person for you. no matter how many times you scream his name for not complying to schedules, no matter how many times you flip your hair against his face. you have everyone on the soccer team on a leash, and most of all sae.

that’s the first time he tells you—yes, he wants you.

“not even if you bribe me.”

at nineteen, sae’s serious about you.

it’s no secret that he’s devoted—you can feel it. because sae isn’t the type to profess his love every day, no. he’s the kind that shows it through his actions, through the way he automatically carries your shopping for you, through the way he always takes your side in public, through the way he looks at you whenever you’re talking.

you have no doubt about it. it doesn’t even cross your mind that he might stray. yeah, you have your priorities, and he has his. you’ll go after them, and he’ll go after his—there’s no reason why you can’t chase your dreams in parallel.

your parents think otherwise, though.

like some rather typical parents do, they’re sceptical; sae can see it in their eyes. the way they furrow their brows whenever you invite him to chime in during dinner, the way they ask investigative questions—things about his past history that even you never asked him.

“mom!” you’re fed up with their interrogation tactics, shooting a warning glare at your parents.

your mom and dad look at each other in resignation before resuming to quietly eat their dinner. you’re reluctant to leave sae alone at the dinner table with your parents while you help to wash up, but sae tells you he’ll be fine. because he will.

they’re humans. they’re like you, just older and less prettier. why should sae be scared?

as expected, the moment you turn the tap on, your parents jump on him.

“you know, she really likes you,” your mom tells him. “i can’t say the same for you, though.”

sae’s never navigated around conversations with parents. he doesn’t know the first thing about this. he’s just keeping his fingers crossed he doesn’t fuck up.

“you look like someone who has a lot of girls, itoshi,” your father chimes in before sae can speak up. “you have a lot of girls on the side?”

he could not be more wrong.

“none, sir.”

why does this effort feel much more than necessary?

“why y/n?” your mother jumps in, and for the first time tonight, sae spots a genuine curiosity in her eyes.

not the best question to ask someone who doesn’t even remotely talk about their feelings. sae finds himself stumped, but your mother is, fortunately, a nice person deep down.

“just tell me this,” she leans forward, and your father seems to relax a little bit, sinking back against his chair. none of you realise the tap’s turned off. “do you love her?”

that’s… premature, if sae has any say in it. and he thinks it’s criminal that he’s telling your mother before he even tells you, but he knows that not admitting it would likely cause a rift between you and them—not something he wants.

making you miserable? no thank you.

so he nods, “yes, i do.”

“you realise that—”

“sir, let me put it this way: you can’t force me to stay away from her, not even if you bribe me.”

from the kitchen, you smile as you listen. looks like you had nothing to worry about after all.

“they’re nothing compared to you.”

you love seeing sae living his dreams; love having front-row seats to his matches, love catching the fleeting glimpses he gives after he wins.

he’s twenty-one and thriving in the soccer scene, more than ever. world-famous and revered. the two of you are stronger than ever, still, because despite how sae looks, he’s much softer than people think.

when he’s running late from practice, he texts you the moment he can, tells you what’s up. when he has to cancel on you, he makes sure he makes it up to you. if he has soccer obligations on special occasions, he’ll let you know.

it’s funny thinking back to the days when you used to squabble with each other, to the days when everyone was tired of hearing you and sae argue.

not that that should be a problem now anymore—why? simple, because non-disclosure agreements are ass. but a highly recommended thing by his publicist; to protect his image, and then he told you not to take it personally because he’s asking all of sae’s close contacts to sign it too.

which didn’t take long.

it was mostly rin and his parents, and some other guys he used to know back in high school.

oh, and there’s you. apparently, you can’t divulge anything about being in a relationship with itoshi sae. so, as far as the world is concerned, he’s a bachelor.

“it’ll sell better,” was all the explanation his publicist offered.

sae had been against it, because why should he hide you from the world? and it’s stupid. but his publicist is smart, pointing out that you might get harassed online if his loyal fans find out. (to which sae begrudgingly agreed to, for the interim.)

it was fine, up to a point, but you’d never really considered how you’d feel seeing all these headlines of sae possibly being romantically linked with all these socialites and up-and-coming movie stars.

a part of you, the prideful part, is too stuck-up to ask your boyfriend for assurance. mainly because you think it’s stupid. sae constantly texts you when he’s not with you (as much as his schedule allows), and whenever he’s done for the day he goes back home and calls you if he can.

the other part of you, the lovestruck one, is afraid that maybe you can’t measure up to everyone else. that just maybe, you’re worlds apart and you’re not good enough.

usually you’d wait for sae to tell you he’s home, you’d let him rest his mind on the way back, but this time you’re impulsive and you’re dialing his number before you know it.

“hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, picking up after just two rings. even he knows you don’t usually initiate the calls.

“um,” you stutter because you don’t actually know how to tell him you’re calling to ask for assurance. despite having been together for four years, you realise that neither of you have actually sat down and talked about feelings.

“babe, talk to me,” sae urges you, and you can hear him getting off the bus. he must have just reached his apartment complex. he must’ve been tired from an entire day of intensive bootcamp and here you are, calling him with your trivial matters.

“it’s nothing, sae, forget it.”

“wait, what—”

you hang up before he can say anything and quickly text him.

i’m feeling a little sick tonight, just going to rest early.

sae leaves you on read and you think you’ve fended him off.

you did not.

an hour later, he’s at your door, carrying all your favorite convenience store snacks and a worried expression.

“what is it?” he asks you. you’re a little too stunned to speak. sae lets himself in, placing the snacks on your dining table before he really looks at you, surveying your face. “what were you crying about?”

you suddenly feel stupid for thinking your puffy eyes wouldn’t give you away.

sae tips your chin up when you try to look down. “y/n, tell me,” and he sounds only concerned, and the guilt builds up inside you.

so you tell him—you tell him about your intrusive thoughts as he lets you lay against his chest on the couch. you tell him about your insecurities as he sits in silence and listens. you tell him that you think it’s stupid of you to think this and you’re beginning to think you’re an ass for keeping him up so late when he has training tomorrow morning.

but sae doesn’t feel that. not one bit.

“it’s not stupid,” he tells you, and if you’d been able to see his expression, you’d know that he can never look at anyone the same way he looks at you. “all those girls you’re worried about, they’re nothing compared to you.”

“really?” you sniffle, appreciating the fact that even though he’s horrible at talking emotions, he’s trying his best for you.

sae pulls some hair away from your face and you pull back to get a good look at him. “really, stupid.” you laugh and he laughs, and now you’re really feeling stupid because there’s no way sae would ever choose anyone else over you. would never dream of having any other option.

“promise?”

sae sighs, in that lovingly way he does. “yes, i promise,” and he means it—he’s never thought of being with anyone else. “i love you, don’t i?”

you nod, chuckling because yes, yes he does. and yes, you know that more than anyone. even if it has to be kept under wraps for now; there’s no cause for concern.

when you fall asleep on his chest and sae’s too cautious to wake you up, your mother wakes up to take some water and stumbles upon the sight. she greets sae with a nod and a smile, the softest one he’s seen so far.

“my daughter has good taste.”

“that’s a secret.”

sae’s only getting more and more famous as he gets older. a year later and he’s already garnering attention from everyone, with girls lining up to be a possible mrs itoshi.

you’re still unknown; hidden in the crevices, tucked between pieces of signed contracts. you’re dealing with it, it’s fine. it’s going great, only because you’ve learned to get used to it. it was either that or to call everything off, and you don’t want that.

it’s a friday night and sae’s away for another match, this time in london, and you’re watching post-game interviews on your screen while you finish your pack of chips.

they finally get to sae, throwing the normal obligatory questions like how he feels after winning the match, how he feels like being the man of the match. until they start asking personal questions like who he’d like to dedicate his win to.

he dodges the first few easily with vague answers. but then they get even more personal.

“so, itoshi, rumours have it that you’ve been in a long-term relationship now, is that true?”

you freeze up hearing the question, noticing how sae momentarily looks to the right before he rolls his eyes and turns back to the interviewer.

“maybe,” he answers, and you’re surprised. that’s the first time he’s probably not listened to his publicist.

“now who is this lucky lady?”

sae sighs, “that’s a secret.”

his interview ends there as he retreats back into the locker room, your phone vibrating almost immediately after.

one day i’m gonna show you off to everyone.

you smile as you type your response.

sure you want the whole world to know you belong to me?

you expect a retort about how it’s the other way around, but he does one better.

fuck yes.

“you make me lose my goddamn mind.”

you’re both comfortable, twenty-three and lounging in sae’s apartment, curled up in the couch, fingers intertwined and spending a lazy sunday in.

it’s right smack in the middle of his break and you’ve got him to yourself for four entire months. it’s been good, so good.

everyday you’re reminded of why you love him, of why he’s yours. the way he pulls you back against him in the mornings when you wake up. the way he says your name when he’s sleepy, the raspiness in his voice known only to you.

“hey, i’m heading out for a while,” he tells you, slipping on his slides and unlocking the door.

that’s how it usually goes; you’re still not allowed to admit to your relationship, even if sae has hinted at being in a committed relationship. what his publicist considers as minimising risks is that both of you shouldn’t be seen out in public together. that’s why you’re having fun nights out at odd hours and being romantic in private.

sae often just leaves in the middle of the day, some alone time and maybe get some groceries since you can’t let yourself be seen leaving his apartment. it’s not an ideal situation, but you’ll take it. the last thing you want to do is make his life harder.

while he’s gone, you do the chores—make the bed, defrost some chicken breasts, vacuum, maybe wash the laundry. he’s doing his best to learn the right way to do chores (because one time when you asked him to help vacuum he ended up vacuuming the bathroom too), but you find it’s easier if you just do them instead.

usually he comes back by now, takes about a half an hour because his apartment is nestled in the centre of town, surrounded by all the stores and amenities he could need. but you stare at the clock.

it’s been an hour and a half, what’s he up to?

sae doesn’t even respond when you text him. right as you’re about to call him, worried, you hear his keys jangling and the door opening.

you expected to find him carrying a huge bag of groceries with the amount of time he was gone, but he’s empty-handed and you’re starting to think maybe he was hounded by paparazzi.

“did you have trouble with some press?” you ask innocently, mop in your hand.

sae sighs, “fuck no, thank god.” he toes off his slides and tosses his keys on the dining table, taking his cap off and tousling his hair. his pretty pretty reddish brown locks.

“oh, then where’d you go?”

sae smirks at you this time, hiding something behind his back.

“what’re you up to, itoshi?”

he rolls his eyes because you only call him that when you’re afraid. “relax, baby,” he coos, inching closer to you and revealing what he’s holding.

sae’s holding up your keychain; a mini figurine of sae you got from one of the gift shops during his match. but you spot something that wasn’t there before—a key, painted black like the door to his apartment.

“sae?”

“this key’s yours.”

you blink at him, a little stupefied. “sae, did you get lost while trying to find the key copy place?”

sae clicks his tongue, annoyed. “shut up, do you want this or not?” by the way he’s all red, he did get lost.

you take the key from him, suppressing a grin. “aw thanks, now i can let myself in.”

sae sighs again, “i’m asking you to move in, stupid.”

“y-you want me to move in here?”

“yes.”

“like, you want to see my face everytime you wake up and before you go to bed?”

“yeah.”

“you want me to live here with you, together?”

“yes and if you ask anymore i’ll take it back.” because sae’s aware that you’re asking out of disbelief—he loves his alone time yet here he is, asking you to be with him whenever he’s back home. which isn’t that hard to believe for him; you’re the only one he’d ever want to be alone together with.

you giggle, “okay okay, roomie.”

sae only sighs. “you make me lose my goddamn mind.”

“i don’t want this anymore.”

it’s your fault, it’s all your fault.

sae’s publicist is at the house, screaming at the top of his lungs, and by sae’s unamused expression, he’s not having it. he’s just controlling himself so he doesn’t end up getting a lawsuit filed against him for employee abuse.

“who thinks it’s safe to go out wearing their boyfriend’s jersey, which isn’t even for sale yet by the way,” he rants, staring straight at you, “and go down and buy a birthday cake on his birthday and take it up to his apartment, all while knowing that the press is gonna be camping outside the complex?”

he makes you feel stupid.

sae steps in front of you, his broad shoulders the only thing making you feel safe from his publicist’s constant attack. “you yell at my girl one more time and you’re done,” sae threatens, managing to get his publicist to storm out of the house.

apparently, sae had a big endorsement deal all planned with the one stipulation being that he had to appear a bachelor up until the stunt was over. and now his publicist’s mad because that’s all down the drain and his commissions are gone.

“hey, you okay?” sae asks you, gently, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

you’re fine, you’ll get over it. it’s just what his publicist said that gets in your head.

it’s like you’re trying to ruin his deals.

being with a famous pro player comes with some form of caution, you know that right?

she’s just in the fucking way!

weeks pass and it’s not easier to drown out the voices. sae’s good at it, so he’s already moved past it, resumes work as per usual, assumes you’re okay too because of the multitude of times you insisted that you are.

but really? it’s fucking difficult.

if you thought you were insecure before everyone knew about you, it’s ten times worse now. while the majority of people are nice about it, saying wonderful stuff like how the two of you are so sweet and look so good together, there’s still so many people who shit on you.

wait, i thought he was with that model from that one shoot? damn, he got the short end of the stick with his gf lol

lmaooo what a downgrade from that other soccer star he was dating

@itosae you okay, dude? you blind or something?

there’s a lot more than that. a lot. some of them even found your account, messaged you directly and said some less-than-nice things.

you keep it all from sae, though. the last thing you need to do is distract him any further, especially when he has the champions’ league coming up.

“i’m fine, mom,” you say one night when your mother calls to check up on you. “i promise.”

you’re a bad daughter, keeping these from your mother who’s just concerned. she isn’t convinced, but she hangs up anyway afterwards, telling you to rest.

it’s easy for things to spiral when you keep them all to yourself. the voices in your head that belongs to sae’s disgruntled fans growing louder, drowning out the words of affection sae tells you everyday.

until one day you think you can’t take it anymore.

they’re all telling you that you’re not good enough, that you’re just a burden. his publicist is nowhere near your side, instead silently siding with the fans who berate you. sae’s oblivious to it all, you think, because he doesn’t do anything about it.

one day you’re just sitting side by side, watching a movie, sae’s arm around your shoulders, his fingers idly twirling your hair.

“sae, we need to talk.”

like the lover he is, he pauses the movie, adjusting himself to look at you. “yeah, what is it?” he’s smiling at you because he has no idea what’s coming.

and you know, you know if you tell him what you really think that it won’t work, so you put on your best game face. truth be told, you’d been building up to this moment anyway, purposely telling him you’d be busy whenever he’s back from his games just so you won’t spend time together. it was all to give him the illusion that you just weren’t interested anymore, no matter how fucked up that sounds.

“i don’t want this anymore.”

sae furrows his brows. “what? what’s this?”

you sigh, feigning frustration. “this, sae. us. i don’t want this anymore.”

“why not?”

“because i’m tired. i’m tired of dating someone who’s half here and half not, i’m tired of tolerating your stupid habits, i’m tired of being with you, sae.” you’re raising your voice, but sae doesn’t flinch. his expression doesn’t even change. you’re beginning to think you broke him, made him malfunction.

when sae doesn’t say anything, you continue.

“i want to break up.”

sae looks away from you, at the patch of rug on the floor beside him, jaw clenched. he blinks a few times before he looks back at you.

“no.”

now it’s your turn to be confused. “w-what?”

sae tilts his head to the side, concern etched in his expression. “i said no, y/n,” he repeats, sighing. he puts his forefinger under your chin, his thumb caressing the side of your face. “who are you trying to fool?”

“i-i mean what i said, sae.”

you’re in disbelief. you hate how he knows you better than anyone else, maybe better than yourself, and you’re beginning to realise no one can come close to sae for you.

“so you don’t love me anymore? don’t wanna be my girl anymore?” he asks, but it’s redundant because he knows the answers. “i love you, okay? and i’d be a shit boyfriend if i let you go like this.”

you’re speechless, so you don’t say a thing, just sit awkwardly in front of him while for the first time in his life, he resolves to being there for you.

“look, i don’t know what mean things people are saying online, but fuck them,” he tells you.

“sae, it’s not easy,” you sniffle.

“then talk to me, and stop shutting me out, you idiot,” he chastises, and you find yourself falling onto him. “i fired my publicist too, by the way. couldn’t stand him spouting shit about you even after i told him to shut the fuck up.”

you laugh at his exasperation, your chest somehow feeling lighter.

“and, do me a favor? ignore the mean comments, yeah?” sae tells you, softer this time. “i kinda don’t ever wanna lose you, so.” he has his head resting on top of yours, your fingers intertwined and your heart soaring.

until now, you’d thought it’d be easy to drive sae away. you thought if you’d been enough of a nuisance, an eyesore, that he’d just take your word for it and run, that he’d throw a fit and let you leave.

but he doesn’t.

sae stays. and he tells you to stay. because he doesn’t know much about laundry, or how to handle feelings, but what he knows is how to love you. he knows what you need and he knows what you’re thinking, even if he doesn’t necessarily tell you about it.

and sae is a bitch to the world. he’s not the friendliest to fans nor does he care about making friends or enemies.

but to you, he’s everything. he says no to either of you straying and he says yes to whatever you ask except when it doesn’t make sense and you never knew that this was the beauty of being with someone who wants you—in every sense of the word.

there’s a certain threshold to pass before you can see everything clearly. suddenly it’s like the mean voices are faded into the background, and suddenly sae’s love is all you hear, and nothing is blurred because now all you can think about is how even if the world fails you, sae never will.

“hey, sae?”

“mhm?”

“thank you.”

he smiles against your head and you can feel it. “i love you, stupid.”

and you love him; recognising your handwriting and sweeping you off your feet. you love him; braving your parents, living his dreams. you love him; protecting you and showing up at your door. you love him; bashful yearning and unwavering emotions.

so you kiss him in response, and that’s all he needs to know that you’re with him for life.

Under His Skin ~ Chapter 7

Series Masterlist

Words: 7.2k

Pairing: Jonathan Crane aka Scarecrow (Nolanverse Batman) x F Reader

Warnings: Stalking, gaslighting, coveting, drugging, voyeurism, manipulation, plans to falsely imprison, vandalism.

Your world continues to implode in the wake of Ares' breakdown. What happens with his apartment now that you were added to the lease? What of your wedding plans? And the art gallery...

Jonathan realizes that the League of Shadows gave him the key to a fully-realized fear toxin. But what will they want in return? The only leverage they have to use against him is her so he's running out of time to lock her down...

She knocked softly three times. Right on time. The clock read 12:13 exactly. 

Jonathan didn’t say anything, just opened the door with deliberate calm. 

She smiled faintly as she stepped inside, a takeout bag in hand. “Lunch, love.” Then she froze, and her eyes widened. “I... I'm so sorry. That was habit. I didn’t mean...”

Jonathan tilted his head slightly, just studying her. 

Habit.That word didn’t belong to me. But it will.

She moved past him, setting the food carefully on his desk. She was dressed like she had been in the early days when she'd arrive for Ares with a calm smile and soft conversation, confident in her skin, polished without effort. A tailored coat with a simple blouse tucked into slacks. Her jewelry was understated.

But it wasn’t what she wore that caught his attention. It was the scent of her perfume. He just realized she hadn't worn it in many days, the faint, clean smell of linen and her. 

Jonathan turned slightly as she passed, tracking the air she disturbed as he closed the door.

You’re trying. Putting yourself back together, and keeping the routine intact. Making it look whole again.

But it isn’t. Not anymore.

He looked at her more closely now. The illusion of routine was in place. But the light was gone from her eyes. The easy laughter he’d observed on her first days at Arkham? Absent. The subtle self-assurance in her posture? Faded.The confidence in her voice when she used to tease Ares or distract the staff? Muted.

There was something else now. Strain. She was tired. Not just physically, but beneath the surface. 

I’ve bent something in you. Not enough to break. Just enough to shift the balance.

It would make her easier to guide and shape. Now she'd ask fewer questions. She'd trust him faster, doubt less.

Jonathan should like that. He should want that. But something about it… unsettled him.

She was vibrant when I first saw her. Untouched by decay. Now there’s a shadow.

And I cast it. It works in my favor. But it’s mine. I’ll have to fix it. 

Not to restore her. But to own every piece of her, including her joy and warmth. Not just what was left after the storm... but what he rebuilt from the ruins.

“Well,” she said, trying to recover, “I asked a few of the nurses if they knew what you liked. A couple mentioned this place. I hope it’s okay.” She took her normal seat while he sat in the chair next to her.

Jonathan opened the bag slowly, surprised. Yes, he did like that restaurant. Lean protein, quinoa, a side of steamed vegetables. Not quite his usual order, but remarkably accurate.

You did research.To please me.

He looked up, as she pulled a wrap from her own bag. She was watching him, not expectantly, but hoping.

“Yes,” he said. “This is fine.”

This is perfect.

The meal unfolded quietly, comfortable. Until she asked. “How is Ares today?”

“Stable,” he said gently. “Still nonverbal and disconnected, unfortunately.”

Jonathan didn’t soften the truth because it served the narrative now. He watched her fingers stiffened around the tea cup.

With practiced ease, he continued. “We’ve adjusted his protocol. Low-dose antipsychotics, and a carefully managed sedative taper. I’ve removed all environmental stressors.” He glanced at her briefly. “Limited light. No auditory stimulation. Strict familiar routines. We’re treating it as an acute psychotic break with fear-induced catatonia.”

Let her hear the language. Let it sound official. Make her feel like she’s already in too deep to find clarity on her own.

You see? I’m the only one who can help him. And I’m not done trying. But if he slips too far… you’ll already be anchored somewhere else.

Her eyes dimmed slightly, and he watched it happen with controlled detachment. Jonathan saw sadness and guilt. Dependency. All of it played out across her features like the stages of a test subject adjusting to new sensory inputs.

And when the new toxin is ready, Ares will be its first vessel. If it works the way it should… he’ll never speak your name again.

She took a sip of her tea from the restaurant. Habit? But her shoulders were drawn just slightly inward, like she didn’t realize the shape of her own grief.

Jonathan set down his own water glass and leaned forward, not too far. Just enough to make the moment feel deliberate.

"How's your tea?" he asked.

She made a face, then smiled. "Not the greatest."

"I made tea for you," he said, moving to get it for her. 

She held up a hand to stop him. "I'll get it," she said. 

But he didn’t miss the subtext. She was trying to keep her balance. Trying to reclaim routine. 

Still trying to move freely in a world that belongs to me now. And I let her. Because watching her move is its own kind of control.

Jonathan stayed in his seat, enjoying the lunch she brought him. But he watched her, shoulders drawn back, the loose fall of her blouse shifting with each movement. Her fingers wrapping around the handle of the teapot with familiar confidence. The lines of her body moved like muscle memory. Not quite graceful, too tired for that. But sure and natural. 

Jonathan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to conceal his body's reaction to her. Her slacks fit her like a second skin, showing off a perfect ass and those long, long legs...

I want everything. Not just her body .Not just the sound she makes when she exhales into my collar or the shape of her mouth when she says my name. I want her gaze, her choices, her routines. I want her to wake up and make my coffee without realizing it’s devotion. I want her to forget that she ever had mornings without me.

She poured the tea carefully, still unaware of how closely he watched her. Still safe in the belief that she was here by choice.

You’re building a new life. And I’m going to be every part of it. Even if I have to burn down everything you knew to make room.

She returned to her chair with the cup in hand.

"You’ve asked about Ares every day,” He said low and steady. “But you never talk about yourself.”

That line of conversation caught her off guard. Her mouth opened, then closed. “I… I’m fine,” she said quickly, but not convincingly.

He tilted his head. “Are you?”

She hesitated. And that tiny gap between instinct and truth? That was his opening.

“You witnessed a deeply traumatic event,” he said softly. “You went into shock. You were attacked when that patient was accidentally freed from his room. Today you returned to the same environment. That’s not ‘fine.’ That’s survival.”

She lowered her gaze, a faint, strained smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. “Guess I have a talent for being in the wrong place at the worst possible time.”

Jonathan didn’t return the smile or reward the deflection. “It’s not bad luck. It’s trauma. And it’s not something you’re meant to carry alone.”

She didn’t answer right away, just stared down at her tea, fingers wrapped too tightly around the cup. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. “I think I’m just… alone.” She didn’t look up. “Ares was my rock. Even when things got hard. He could be stubborn, but he was... he was steady.” Her thumb rubbed anxiously along the porcelain. “My parents are gone, and I don't have siblings. I have an aunt in Boston, but we haven’t seen each other in years. And Lex...” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “She and I own the gallery together. Lexi has enough on her plate. I don’t want to add more.”

Jonathan listened, saying nothing yet. He’d already known all of it, including her reluctance to burdening others. It was all in her messages, her patterns and silences. It was data first.

But now, it was confirmation.

You feel you're drifting, untethered. And you’re telling me that directly. You don’t even realize what you’re giving me.

Every anchor you’ve lost becomes another reason to bind yourself to me.

He leaned forward just slightly. “You don’t have to perform for me,” he added.“Not here.”

Her shoulders loosened, she exhaled. Her fingers curled slightly around the base of the teacup. “I don’t really know how I’m doing,” she admitted finally.

Jonathan nodded, slow. “That’s common. You’re in a state of transition, there's uncertainty. It can cause disorientation, fatigue, even self-blame.”

Finishing his lunch, he asked. “Have you been sleeping?”

She nodded too quickly while he tried not to remember watching her sleep last night. Those red panties...

“Restfully?”

Her silence was the answer.

“Your mind hasn’t accepted the change yet,” he said gently. “It’s still trying to reconcile what happened to Ares with what it wants to believe about the world.” He watched her face closely. “That disconnect is painful, but manageable. With guidance.”

With my guidance.

She looked at him then, vulnerableand tired. But still trying to stand upright in her own shoes. 

He admired that, the way she still tried to hold herself together and meet his eyes without trembling. But it couldn’t last. She was already falling apart at the seams. Held together by routines and the memory of stability, or Ares. 

And now him.

“I’d like to help you with that,” he said finally. “As someone who’s… invested in your well-being.”

That was the softest he’d ever said it. Invested.

She looked at him, really looked. Her eyes were red-rimmed but dry. Searching his face like she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to see.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” she admitted, almost a whisper. “But… thank you. That means more than I know how to say.”

She smiled, grateful. And lost.

Let the line blur, and feel like comfort, not intrusion. Let her reach for it without knowing what she’s touching.

She was quiet now, the kind of quiet that comes after surrender. It wasn't because she wanted to give in, but because she didn’t know how to keep standing on her own. She was exactly where he needed her, and where she'd be safe. 

You won’t have to worry much longer. Very soon, you’ll be somewhere warm, quiet, protected. Safe and sound. Because I’ll put you there.

And no one will ever touch you again.

She glanced at the clock then,startled by how much time had passed.

“I should probably go.” She stood slowly, not rushed, but reluctant. She gathered her things, and stood with a tired, grateful smile.

Jonathan rose with her. “Let me walk you out.”

She hesitated, but nodded. They moved down the corridor together in silence, her footsteps slow beside his.

Jonathan kept his hands folded behind his back, resisting the urge to touch the small of her back. He was so close now. Close enough that if anything happened, she’d reach for him without thinking. She already had. And she would again.

Outside, the afternoon sun filtered through a thin layer of clouds, casting everything in a grayish hue. Her car sat in the visitor lot which was emptier this time of day.

Pausing beside her, he said, “Be mindful when you’re out in Gotham. There’s been a rise in petty crime lately, muggings, break-ins. Especially downtown.”

She looked up, concerned. “Really?”

Jonathan nodded once. “It's been all over the news.”

She swallowed hard. He watched her eyes flicker with unease.

Good.

You won’t have to worry much longer. Soon, you won’t drive yourself to work. You won’t sleep alone. You won’t lie awake wondering if the city outside your window still remembers how to be cruel.

Because I’ll have you. And that will be the end of it.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, unlocking her car.

He didn’t respond, waited. He watched her slide into the driver’s seat, close the door, and glance back once before turning the key.

She didn’t know it yet, but she’d just survived her last solo trip to Arkham.

The gallery had been quiet all day. Almost too quiet. Lexi hadn’t come in, again. Another family issue with another vague apology by text.

You didn’t mind helping. You never did. You loved the gallery. Loved the way it smelled in the mornings, like fresh paint, old wood, and a thousand possibilities. You loved seeing an artist’s face light up when their work found a home. You believed in what you were building, and to you, it was a valuable contribution to the world.

But lately, it felt like the whole weight of it had been dropped into your arms. Every exhibit, email, meeting... The pedestal that cracked mid-install? Yours to fix. The broken lightbulb over the entrance? You replaced it. The delivery that showed up two days early? You made it work.

And Lexi? She was always sorry, overwhelmed, and somewhere else. You understood. She had her problems, and always had.

But Ares was in Arkham right now, fighting for his mind. And Lexi had barely asked about it. Once. Other than that, she hadn’t followed up or offered to help. Nothing.

It wasn’t fair to expect more. But wasn’t it also unfair to expect so little from someone who was supposed to be your friend?

And then there was Jonathan.

You didn’t even realize how much you’d started to depend on him until recently. The way his voice could cut through the noise in your head. Staying calm, you knew, was a big part of his job. Ares had been the same, only when everything was slipping sideways, Ares could help talk you down and couch it in humor and affection. When he decided you were okay, the matter was done. Even if it really hadn't been. Jonathan didn't do what he thought he should until you seemed stable. He saw you. Not only was he taking care of Ares, trying to bring him back to you, but he also took care of you, thought about your needs. 

Without him… I don’t think I could even walk into the gallery right now. What would you do without him? And the scariest part? You didn’t want to find out.

You locked the front door at 8:47 PM and stood in the street a little longer than usual.

Jonathan’s warning crept back into your mind. Be mindful when you’re out.

You made it home fine. You had leftovers for dinner with the tea you always made yourself. But now, it didn't seem nearly as good as what Jonathan made for you. 

Jonathan had been particularly kind today. You hated how much you clung to it. How it filled the space Ares used to take up, and on another level, that felt wrong. 

Ares is still here. Somewhere. You can’t give up on him.

You curled into bed with your phone, scrolling back through your old messages with Ares like you did every night. The casual ones.The late-night ones.The ones he sent on nights he worked late, telling you how much he couldn't wait to see you. Couldn't wait to marry you. You read them slowly, trying to remember the last one where he still sounded like himself.

You missed him. More than that, you needed him. And the ache of that need twisted something in your chest. The only person who seemed to understand that pain…Was the man who’d replaced him.

Jonathan would be Arkham’s new Chief Administrator. It wasn’t official yet, but everyone knew. And you knew what that meant. Even if Ares recovered, if some miracle reversed what had happened to him, he couldn’t go back to that role. That part of his life was over. But he’d still have you. You’d help him rebuild, and start again somewhere. You’d take care of him. You just needed him to come back.

Just come back.

And still, your mind kept drifting to someone else. To the way Jonathan had stood between you and danger. To the quiet way he said your name like he already knew your breaking points.

You trusted him, hard to believe with how he'd treated you when he arrived at Arkham. You hated that the voice that calmed you most was no longer Ares’s.

You just needed time to get through this. And when Ares comes back to you… this will all be something you survived. Together.

But the world kept moving around you. Two emails sat unread at the top of your inbox. The first was from the realtor, the final paperwork for the apartment was ready. Ares had added you to his lease. After six years of loving each other in borrowed spaces and parallel lives, you were finally going to live together. The forms were signed. You hadn't started packing because honestly, you didn't have a lof things to pack.

And now? Now you didn’t know what to do. What happens to his apartment if he doesn't come back? Do you move in without him? Do you cancel the lease? Do you wait… and for how long? And it wasn't like you could afford to keep up both places for long. You’d reached out to his brother, Colin, over the weeked. He’d been kind, but shocked like you. He asked for updates saying he and his wife were planning to come visit soon. They’d meant well.

But you weren’t ready to face anyone who’d ask all the questions. You were barely holding together yourself.

The second email was from the wedding planner. Lexi had found her for you back when things were normal. When there were color palettes and tasting appointments and venues to tour. Now the planner was asking why you hadn’t responded.

“Still waiting on final headcount and floral preferences. Please call me tomorrow!”

Tomorrow.

You closed the app. Let the phone slide onto the pillow beside you. You’d do it tomorrow. You just felt so tired. You fell asleep sometime after midnight.

Jonathan’s eyes remained fixed on the mirrored phone screen. He could picture her in bed, phone cradled in both hands, the way someone might hold a fragile memory. She was scrolling through her old text messages with Ares. She did it every night. Always in the same order, far enough to catch the softness. The in-jokes. The familiar cadence of a man who hadn’t yet come undone.

But tonight, she didn’t go as far. He watched as her scrolling slowed. Her thumb hesitated, and stopped. She had read only half as many messages as last night. And last night had been fewer than the night before.

The threads are fraying. You're unraveling the attachment by accident. Thread by thread. Memory by memory.

You weren’t forgetting Ares. But the ache was dulling.

Jonathan leaned back slightly in his chair, watching the screen. You don’t even know you’re letting go. But I do. And I’ll be there when your hands are empty.

Exhaling through his nose, he rose. He still had a couple of hours until the gallery strike began. He had plenty of time. 

Downstairs, the air in his lab was cool and sterile, just the way he preferred it. Glass glinted under the recessed lights. Notes were neatly ordered in columns on the back wall. Every variable mapped. Every failed attempt annotated.

But tonight, something was different. 

In the small glass vial on the center table, the powdered extract from the Himalayan Blue Poppy shimmered faintly in solution, an iridescent tone that hadn't existed in his earlier trials. Adjusting the syringe, he introduced the compound into the toxin’s latest base, and watched the reaction unfold under the microscope.

And there it was.

The lattice he couldn’t form before, the depth he’d been chasing. The new compound didn’t just amplify the fear response, it personalized it. Jonathan’s pulse rose slightly. Enough that he noticed it, but didn’t stop it. He adjusted the formula, refined the carrier agents, and made detailed notes on dosage calibration. 

He was already thinking ahead to first trials. Ares was the perfect subject with his personal history and emotional significance. And the public explanation? An already unraveling mind. It wouldn’t just work, it would validate everything. And if it worked there would be permanent fear, silence.

He straightened slowly, stretching his spine, the faint ache in his lower back a familiar sign of real progress.

His visitor was right. It was the missing piece. The breakthrough he’d been chasing for months, buried in the petals of a rare flower used for centuries by those who understood that fear was not a symptom but a weapon.

And the man who’d given it to him? Jonathan had since learned his name. Henri Ducard. At least, that was the name he currently used. He wasn’t in any medical or scientific registry. No academic papers or corporate affiliations. But Jonathan had found traces, buried in older intelligence archives, outdated MI6 records, a few declassified CIA fragments. 

Ducard was the kind of man who didn’t exist until it was too late. The kind of man who walked in the shadows of governments, who led the shadows. 

The League of Shadows. A myth to most, but Jonathan didn’t believe in myths. Only patterns, and Ducard had a pattern. He didn’t extend help, he extended control. And now, they had their eyes on Jonathan’s work because it was effective, and aligned with their vision. 

Order through fear. Correction through collapse. Change through control.

He didn't know the full extent of their plans. They want my fear toxin. Mass-produced, scaled, and fully weaponized.

And if I refuse, they’ll tear apart the only variable I haven’t fully locked down yet. Her.

Jonathan sealed the formula sample and entered the compound into a new encrypted file. 

But if he played this right, the League could become his resource, not his threat.

But if they touched her, if they even whispered her name again, he’d find a way to bring all of them down without hesitation.

Checking the time, Jonathan saw that he had thirty minutes until the gallery would be hit, until the silent alarm would trigger. He had scheduled it down to the minute. He had already watched the footage once, looped security camera test runs, trajectory paths, the placement of the crowbar, the sound the first frame would make when it hit the floor. He didn’t plan chaos here. He had engineered precision.

While he waited, he scrolled through the rest of her activity. There were two emails, and he read them quickly. The first was from the realtor about Ares adding her to his apartment lease. 

He meant to live with you. Even while he was drifting from you, even as his mind fractured, he was still trying to claim space beside you.

Jonathan’s thumb hovered over the message, reading the subject line again: RE: Lease Addendum—Co-Occupant Approval Finalized

It had been sent the night of Ares’s collapse.

So close. You almost had a life together. A shared bed, a shared name. Almost.

Jonathan’s gaze sharpened. Now it’s just logistics. The apartment--Ares’s apartment--would be in limbo soon. Jonathan knew how these things worked. If no family stepped in quickly, the property manager would initiate forfeiture. His belongings would be boxed up, returned to his brother or disposed of quietly.

Her name was now on the lease. A late-stage gesture from a man already unraveling, still trying to carve out permanence even as his grip on reality slipped away. She could move in, in theory.

But Jonathan had already done the math. She couldn’t afford it alone. Even if she gave up her own apartment. Not with her gallery barely sustaining itself.

The rent, the utilities—it was impossible unless she drained her savings, if she even had anything left after months of stress and stagnation.

And she wouldn’t let herself ask for help from friends or family. Not even from me…

But she would.

She’d wait until the pressure built just high enough, until it squeezed out the last bit of independence and left her standing in the doorway of that empty apartment, surrounded by boxes she couldn’t lift and a future she couldn’t carry alone.

That’s when she’ll look to me. And I’ll be there.

He wouldn’t push her. He’d just be the solution when everything else fell away.

And when she stepped over that threshold, into his house, into his design, she’d start to see what he already knew.

You don’t need a place of your own. You need a place that keeps you safe. And that place… is me.

His home was large, private, and already secured. Already adapted for the kind of control he needed to maintain equilibrium. All he had to do now was coax her out of her apartment, make it feel like her idea. 

Your world is shrinking. And I am the last structure still standing.

All he had to do was tilt the floor a little more.

It’s mine now. Not just the role he lost. Not just the institution he failed to protect. But the life he left behind. And the place you were supposed to build with him, it will be mine, too.

The second email was from the wedding planner. A brief, cheery nudge. “Still waiting on final headcount and floral preferences. Please call me tomorrow!”

Jonathan didn’t smile. But his breath shifted, steady and possessive.

There will be a wedding. Eventually. Until then, we'll burn the pieces of your old life until there’s nothing left for you to hold onto except me.

Jonathan moved through his house with purpose. The sedative was already prepped, measured precisely, and tucked into the breast pocket of his coat. He moved to the garage, remote-started the car. 

It was time. He tapped once on his phone. The signal was sent.

The hired crew, three of them, masked, gloved, and ready, would be at the gallery in five minutes. The timeline was set. Fourteen minutes inside. No more.

Enough to terrify. Not enough to be caught.

He returned to the mirror feed from her phone, watching her screen come to life.

Gallery motion alert.

Her gallery. Her sanctuary being ripped apart. He had ordered it because she needed to be shaken. Fear clears away confusion, faster than grief, sharper than guilt.

And this? This was the final nudge. The gallery was her last tie to the life before him. The space where she clung to Ares, to Lexi, to independence.The place where she smiled without him.

So I broke it. You only truly run to something when you’ve been stripped of everything else.

She was still in bed, but she'd be awake in a few seconds if she wasn't already. Her hands would shake, move too fast, fumbling with her phone. Trying to refresh the footage, trying to open the app, trying to do something.

Jonathan watched and waited. 

Here it comes. The moment fear overtakes reason. The moment you forget everything except what you’re losing.

Lexi’s texts started coming in fast. 

Lexi: Are you seeing this?

Lexi: Should one of us go down there?

Lexi: Please tell me you’re awake.

Jonathan smiled faintly. Perfect. Now Lexi looked careless. Her so-called friend looked like the kind of person who asks others to risk what she never would.

She started typing. Deleted it. Typed again. 

You don’t know what to say. The only person you want to talk to right now isn't the one texting you.

He picked up his keys. 

Tonight wasn’t just another step in the plan. It will be the moment you finally believe it’s not safe unless I’m near.

Jonathan stood in front of her door in just under ten minutes. Inside, he could hear her steps, frantic and disorganized. The unmistakable sound of keys clattering in a bowl. A coat being shrugged on. The zip of a bag.

She thought she was going to walk into the storm he started.

No. That’s not how this ends.

He knocked once, then softer. The door opened seconds later.

She stood there dressed with shoes on. Her coat was half on, her phone in her hand. Her eyes were red-rimmed and wild, from tears. From fear.

Jonathan looked at her, truly looked, and for just a second, the image froze in his mind like a painting. 

You’re so beautiful like this. Unguarded, spiraling. And reaching for me because there’s no one else left.

Her fear didn’t worry him. It filled him, like a current running through his blood.

It’s not fear of me. It’s fear of everything else, everything I protect you from. And that makes it mine to soothe.

“Jonathan?” The desperation in her voice made him shiver.

“I saw the alert.” He kept his voice was calm, grounding. “I came straight here.”

She just stared at him. “You saw it?”

He nodded once. “Of course.”

Her hand went to her mouth. Her voice cracked. “I was going to go down there... Lexi said someone should...” She broke off, breath hitching. “They’re destroying everything.”

Jonathan stepped forward gently and took her by the shoulders. His touch was firm, but careful. Just enough to make her still. She was trembling under his hands.

“You're not going anywhere,” he said firmly. “The police are already on-site. There’s nothing you can do there except get hurt.”

Her face crumpled. Not into sobs, but into that quiet, collapsed panic. The kind where the body hasn’t caught up to the fear yet, and the tears are already too late.

He stepped inside without asking, closing the door behind him. 

This is where you need to be. Not out there. Not with them. You freeze in place when the world unravels, and I can hold you steady.

You just need to be reminded. Who gets to decide where you go... and when.

She let him lead her back toward the couch, no resistance at all. She sat numbly on the edge, still holding her phone with shaking hands. She wasn’t texting anymore, just staring at the camera feed like maybe, somehow, if she looked hard enough, she could undo the damage.

Jonathan crouched in front of her, not too close. He kept his expression neutral, his voice gentle.

“You need to breathe,” he said quietly. “You’re safe. But I need you to sit still for just a moment.”

She didn't speak, just nodded, her eyes still locked on the screen.

He walked calmly into the kitchen, pulling one of her tall water glasses from the glass-front cabinet where she kept them. The filtered pitcher was right where it always was, cold and half-full. His hand reached for the sedative inside his coat pocket, practiced and precise. Two drops. That was all. The compound was odorless, tasteless, and fast-acting. Short duration, but enough to still the tremor in her hands. To slow her pulse, weaken resistance.

It’s not sedation. It’s protection. You won’t remember the moment you stopped panicking. You’ll just feel better… because I'm near now.

He brought the water to her, offering it without a word. She pulled her gaze from the screen and accepted it. Her fingers brushed his. She didn't drink all of it, but enough.

Jonathan sat beside her, not touching her, but close. Within minutes, her shoulders began to ease, and her breathing slowed. The screen dimmed in her hand, and the shaking stopped.

That’s it. You’re winding down, and you think it’s you. You think your mind is calming itself.

She set the glass down on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch with a quiet exhale. Her eyes fluttered shut for just a second. That’s all it took.

You won’t be leaving tonight, or waking up in a panic. I'm here. And soon, you’ll want me to be. Every night.

Not sleep, not yet. But close. Jonathan shifted slightly beside her, and she leaned without realizing it, dropping her head to his shoulder. Her breath slowed. The adrenaline was gone now, flushed from her system with chemical assistance. Now she was perfectly calm, and he didn't move.

You’re still holding onto the idea that you’re okay on your own. But tonight proved otherwise.

A few minutes passed like that, with soft breathing and the occasional twitch of her fingers. She’d curled slightly toward him, instinctively.

Jonathan eased her gently down, sliding his arm away and lowering her onto the couch. She murmured something, but didn’t wake. He found a soft blanket in the hall closet and draped it over her. Her breathing had deepened now, rhythmic and even.

Jonathan moved silently to the chair next to the couch, sitting just out of her reach, where he could observe and think.

Her phone buzzed, then again. He moved instantly, catching the phone from where she’d left it on the arm of the couch. The screen lit up with her name.

Lexi

Jonathan stared at it.

You had your chance, Lexi. You sent her toward danger. I pulled her back. You don’t get to disrupt that now.

He unlocked her phone easily. There was no biometric set up on her phone. No PIN. That made him pause, just briefly.

You trust too easily.

With one smooth swipe, he declined the call. Then he toggled her phone into Do Not Disturb, silencing the noise that didn’t belong to him. He put her phone where she'd remember it last.

Returning to the chair, he watched the soft rise and fall of her chest. 

Let Lexi panic, and wonder why you’re not responding. Let her guilt swell.

Jonathan was staying right here tonight. She was too shaken to be alone. Lexi had failed her, and Ares was gone. He was the only one who clearly saw what she needed and delivered it without being asked.

You were mine to protect, even before you knew it. Tonight, I kept you here. Tomorrow, you’ll thank me for it.

And someday soon…you’ll wonder how you ever slept without me close by.

Jonathan didn’t close his eyes. He watched her sleep.

The sharp, hard knock startled you out of a dead sleep. You jolted upright on the couch, your heart hammering. The blanket slid off your shoulders, and you blinked into the gray light filtering through the blinds. It was dawn, and the next knock was even louder. 

You were already on your feet, stumbling towards the door with sleep-stiff limbs and a racing pulse. You weren't alone, which made you pause. Jonathan was there in the chair by the window, completely still. Asleep, somehow. He looked exactly the way you remembered from the previous night, calm, arms folded lightly, as if he'd kept watch until he couldn’t anymore.

But there wasn’t time to process that.

You opened the door, and there was Lexi. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail. She looked pale and furious, with dark circles under her eyes and exhaustion hanging off her like a second coat.

“Are you serious right now?” she snapped.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

“I texted you, I called you, and I went down to the goddamn gallery myself at four in the morning. Did you know that?”

You were still half-fogged, still wearing the same clothes.

“Lexi, I—”

“My son is home sick, I was running on two hours of sleep, and you—” She jabbed a finger towards your chest. “You didn’t answer anything. You didn’t go. You didn’t even let me know you were okay.”

You felt panic clawing at your insides. Your throat tightened, and shame washed over you in a single wave.

"I just..." Your voice cracked, and you glanced over your shoulder. Jonathan hadn’t moved. You didn’t even know if he was awake yet. "I froze. I didn’t know what to do.”

Lexi’s jaw clenched. Her expression shifted slightly, but the lines of anger carved in her face didn’t soften.

“The gallery’s wrecked. No one got caught. They took pieces. Vandalized the whole front.” She exhaled sharply. “We’re insured, but still. We built that place.”

You looked down, your fingers curled around the edge of the door. You didn’t know what to say. But she was right. Last night you couldn’t breathe. You didn’t call Lexi, or anyone else. And Jonathan arrived...

You felt small standing there in the doorway with Lexi in front of you, furious and tired. You swallowed hard, trying to find words that would make any of this okay.

“I didn’t mean to worry you or let you down,” you said quietly.“I was watching the cameras when it happened. I panicked.” You shook your head, your eyes starting to sting. “I called the police and then..."

Lexi crossed her arms. She wasn’t yelling anymore, but the hurt was still there, flickering behind her exhaustion. “I get that you’re going through a lot,” she said, more clipped now. “But I needed you. The gallery needed you.”

“I know,” you whispered.“I just…”

You felt backed into a wall, still shaking from the night before, and the weight of guilt was already pressing hard against your ribs.

You felt him before you saw him. Behind you, Jonathan rose from the chair, his footsteps light. He moved to your side, pinning Lexi with a glare. As you watched, he pulled off his glasses. 

“Lexi, isn’t it?” Jonathan’s voice was low.

Lexi blinked. “Excuse me, who the fu—”

But Jonathan didn’t let her finish. “I’m sorry about the gallery. I truly am.” He said it like he meant it. “But tell me, what kind of friend asks someone to walk into an active break-in?”

Lexi’s mouth parted slightly. “I didn’t—”

“You did,” he continued. “You suggested she go alone to a crime in progress.”

You froze.

Lexi turned to you, flustered. “Is this guy serious?”

Jonathan didn’t let you answer. “Ares is in Arkham. His mind is—” he gave the smallest pause, “hanging by a thread.”

He looked back at you, briefly, softening just enough to make you feel seen, and then returned to Lexi.

“She’s been carrying your gallery alone while trying to survive the collapse of her personal life. Where have you been? You pushed the weight onto her and expected her to keep moving without rest or reason.”

Lexi recoiled slightly. She wasn’t used to being challenged. But she was used to being right, and Jonathan’s words hit like facts on paper. 

“I made the call last night not to let her walk into danger. You might want to consider the emotional impact before demanding more from someone who’s already depleted.”

Lexi crossed her arms, but didn’t speak.

Jonathan’s tone didn’t change. “You’ll hear from her when she’s in a better place. But that won’t be today.”

Lexi opened her mouth, then closed it.

Something about the way he stood, utterly immovable, unnerved her. Jonathan then literally shut the door in her face.

And you stood there, stunned. Your heart still pounding. 

He didn’t just protect you. He dismantled her. With words so quiet, they left an echo.

You stood there, frozen. Still holding the edge of the door like it might steady you. Your heart was still racing, but now it wasn’t just from the confrontation, it was from the way he had handled it. Handled Lexi. You'd never seen that before.

You slowly turned back toward him.

Jonathan stood a few feet away, his hands loosely at his sides, like he hadn’t just flattened one of your oldest friendships in under two minutes. And he just stood there, watching you calmly, waiting. You weren’t used to anyone stepping in like that. Not since your world cracked down the middle. Lexi had been your friend for years. She could be difficult, sure, but she’d been there when you were still finding your way in the art world. She’d come up with the idea for the gallery, and you'd done everything to help see it realized. Now the gallery was gone, and Lexi likely was too. Ares never liked her, maybe now you understood why.

Jonathan sent her off. And the terrifying part was that you couldn't bring yourself to be that angry. Relief at having her dealt with outweighed everything else right now. 

Lexi came at you with demands and judgment. Jonathan came with boundaries and protection. 

And it felt good. Especially at a time when one more thing would break me.

You didn’t know what that said about you, but you were too tired to unpack it right now. You let your back rest against the door, the tension in your shoulders slowly giving way to something else. Something heavier.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

Jonathan inclined his head once, just slightly. 

You shifted your weight against the door and glanced at him. “What you said to her…” Your voice trailed off, your throat still tight. “Do you really think I’m depleted?”

Jonathan moved closer, but not in an imposing way. “I think,” he said gently, “you’ve been through more in the last week than most people survive in a year.”

You didn’t look away, but you felt the heat behind your eyes again.

He stopped just in front of you, lowering his voice. “You’re not weak. You’re exhausted... There’s a difference.”

He wasn't wrong.

Dropping your gaze, your voice was barely audible. “I didn’t know what to say to her.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said quietly.

And somehow that helped. That shouldn’t have helped, but it did. He gently gestured toward the couch.

“You don’t need to move right now. Not unless you want to.” Another pause, warmer now. “But if you do, let me take you to the gallery. I’ll be with you the whole time.”

You nodded slowly, but didn’t move. “Just a few minutes,” you murmured. “Then I’ll go.”

But it wasn’t the gallery that had you frozen in place. It was the fact that he would be the one taking you. He offered without being asked, without expectation. Like it was natural. Like it was his responsibility.

And maybe it was. You couldn’t go alone. Not after last night. The thought of walking into that ruined space made your chest feel tight. Lexi’s words still echoed somewhere behind your eyes, but Jonathan’s voice had stayed with you longer. 

I made the call last night not to let her walk into danger.

At the time, it had unsettled you how confidently he said it. But now? Now it felt like an anchor. 

He’s going to take me. He’s going to be there.

And for the first time since the texts, since the camera feed, since the break-in... that felt like enough.

He nodded. “Take your time.”

For the first time in days, you felt something close to stillness. Jonathan didn’t hover or push you. He just stepped away, quiet again, and let you feel whatever you needed to feel. Maybe that was what made it work.

She hadn’t looked at him like that before. Not even after the patient, not after Ares.

This time it was different. There had been fear, yes, but not of him. She'd given herself to dependence, but not desperation. Something shifted behind her eyes when she said thank you.

Relief. The most dangerous kind of loyalty, something given willingly. Standing by the window, he kept his hands behind his back. The early light spilled across her living room floor.

Lexi was gone, and she wouldn't be a problem now. Not after what he’d shown her. 

You don’t belong in her life anymore. And soon, she’ll realize that too.

Behind him, he heard her moving quietly. She hadn’t gone to her bedroom, or left him just yet. And that was enough. 

You needed someone to speak for you. You needed someone to protect you. Now you need someone to guide you. 

And I will.

Soon, he would get her out of this apartment. He'd get her away from all the people who kept pulling her back into a life that no longer fit. She’d outgrown it.

Or rather, he’d taken a scalpel to it until it no longer fit her anymore.

All that remained now was him.

And soon, she would see that too.

I was thinking....

5 years old Atsumu! that hates you because you punched him when he stole your games.

6 years old Atsumu! Who thinks you're the coolest around because you scared away the bully that made his brother cry.

7 years old Atsumu! Who makes you his best friends and he don't care if the other boys don't like him. You're still the coolest around.

8 years old Atsumu! Going to the volleyball camping trying to convince you to come too and not talking to you for a month because you didn't want to be there.

9 years old Atsumu! Crying so much that his mother got scared because you broke a bone while trying to get the ball down from a tree.

10 years old Atsumu! Wearing the shirt you gave him for his birthday for a week straight because it was the best gift ever.

11 years old Atsumu! Trying to sneak you out of detention after you made one of his teammate cry but you wouldn't say why you did it.

12 years old Atsumu! Convincing your mother to make you stay with him for a week while your parents stayed with your grandmother.

13 years old Atsumu! Laughing at Aran because he had a crush on you, his best friend and for sure not a cute girl.

14 years old Atsumu! Losing an important match and staying all day with you and Osamu, watching comedies and without talking to anybody else.

15 years old Atsumu! Stealing his father booze to try it with you and ending up throwing up while you lied to his parents to cover him.

16 years old Atsumu! Fighting with you because you didn't want to be the club manager and swearing he wouldn't talk to you anymore but ending in your club everytime Kita tried to make him clean the lockers.

17 years old Atsumu! Getting angry because while he was in the volleyball camp you stayed all the time with Osamu.

18 years old Atsumu! With a girlfriend but still jealous when the first year started to say how pretty you were and they tried to confess to you.

19 years old Atsumu! Fighting with you because you wanted to go to an university in Tokyo and saying horrible things to you.

20 years old Atsumu! Who has seen you just three times in the whole year because he found you talking with his brother but he was never sure of what to say for the first time in his life.

21 years old Atsumu! Getting dumped because he talked to much about you.

22 years old Atsumu! With a new girlfriend, finding you in Onigiri Miya to help his brother with work and talking again with you, smiling everytime like an idiot.

23 years old Atsumu! Coming with his brother to help you to move out of your apartment after you dumped your roommate, now ex.

24 years old Atsumu! Asking you out for the first time, tongue tied and legs trembling.

25 years old Atsumu! Getting drunk with you at his cousin wedding and asking you to move in with him.

26 years old Atsumu! Planing to propose after the Olympics.

27 years old Atsumu! Never been more sure in his life when he said yes during his wedding.

28 years old Atsumu! Being his brother bestman but flirting so much with you that everybody said to him to shut up.

29 years old Atsumu! Going off the airplane to find you waiting for him, hugging you and spinning you everytime, his nickname, loverboy, sticked to him for the fifth year in a row.

30 years old Atsumu! Making you pregnant during the Olympics, and having a little panic attack after discovering it was a triplet before deciding he wanted a full volleyball team.

31 years old Atsumu! Who decides that three kids where enough after the problems you went through during labor. Searching you every night to make sure you were still there with him.

32 years old Atsumu! Trying to teach his kids how to play volleyball.

33 years old Atsumu! Laughing his ass off with you after his kids traumatized Bokkun when he proposed to be their baby sitter for a day even if it ruined his romantic day with you.

34 years old Atsumu! Arguing with you because you took home a dog before the dog became his.

35 years old Atsumu! Slow dancing with you during one of his teammate wedding before getting drunk with you and remembering the morning after, when his sons jumped on him, that he was no more a twenty years old. Video of him hitting on you all the night while you tried to show him off because you were married went viral.

36 years old Atsumu! Thinking of renewing his promises because he loved you every day a little more and he wanted to marry you every day of his life.

I will read again when I have time to fix the mistakes

00line: mark’s old lol 00line: *realises they’re adults too* wait a minute…

How Alluring…