#but I’ll save it for now bc these tags are already getting long

[emotivehardcore]

Thought about the state of forcemasc kink on this website and got mad again

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

then send me a son

pairing: joel miller x reader

cws/tags: so much angst (w/ happy ending! i swear), discussion of suicide attempt (the canon one), suicidal ideations, losing a child, losing a parent, survivors guilt, discussions of abortion, unplanned pregnancy, p in v, oral sex, virginity loss (but it's not that big of deal/not a kink), both dealing w grief, ellie is dead, this is set in jackson post tlou pt I

summary: joel is put on suicide watch after he returns to jackson w/o ellie and reader becomes his 'caregiver' of sorts. lowkey enemies to lovers but also not bc it's kinda one-sided 'hatred'

a/n: author is pro-choice! and also understands the complexities of mental health that reader and joel do not at times (just wanted to make it clear that i understand... from personal experience... what depression is like as well as suicidal ideation).

title is from the song 'the suburbs' by arcade fire, but listen to the entirety of the suburbs (album) and funeral (album) if you want to understand my mindframe while writing this

the last sentence is a quote and i've reblogged it before but i'll find the image and post it/reblog it again

wc: 9.4k

masterlist | ko-fi | taglist

Joel is just surprised Tommy has the gall to ask, “Where’s Ellie?” when he arrives in Jackson alone. 

In this world, when two people leave and only one comes back, you don’t ask because you already know what happened. You wait for that person to tell you about a miracle, and when they don’t, you know for sure. 

“Heaven, if you believe in that sort of thing,” is Joel’s response. 

But Joel doesn’t believe in Heaven or Hell, or anything other than ashes and dirt. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Tommy says because he’d already said ‘I’m sorry’ when Sarah died, and that didn’t bring her back. 

It takes a hefty amount of booze to get Joel to tell the story.

“I just hope she died for something. Then, at least, I’ll know I’m being selfish.”

I didn’t get that with Sarah, he thinks. She didn’t die for a ‘noble cause’. He doubts Ellie did either. 

“You’re being put on watch,” Maria tells him the next morning – when he’s sober and asking what his duties are now that he’s back. 

Life goes on, which means work goes on, so what’s my job? As long as it’s not burning bodies, I’ll be okay. 

“Watch? Like I’m watching, or I’m being watched.”

“Being watched.”

He asks why, though he doesn’t need to. Tommy knows why he’s got that scar on his forehead. 

“Fucking authoritarian bullshit,” he mutters, half into his pillow. “Thought you were a communist.”

“I am. And this has nothing to do with that.”

“I bet Tommy put you up to it anyway.”

“He didn’t ‘put me up to anything’.”

“But he told you, didn’t he?”

“He told me a long time ago.”

“Figures. You always knew I was a coward.”

“You say stuff like that, and then act like you don’t need help.”

“I didn’t say I don’t need help. I said I don’t want it.”

She’s silent, letting him continue. “Now let me grieve in peace, will you?”

She hums something akin to agreement, but asks for something that sounds like protest to him. “Where’s your gun?”

“Which one?”

“All of ‘em.”

He tells her because he doesn’t want Tommy or anyone else searching through all his bullshit because that’s what happens if he doesn’t give ‘em up.

“Want my kitchen knives too?” he says, almost wryly. 

She takes most of them, but leaves the more blunt ones out of sympathy. He can have butter on his toast. Unless she takes the toaster so he can’t take it with him in the bathtub. 

She leaves the toaster, and then, leaves him alone. 

Quite frankly, he’s too old to kill himself. Sure, people do it at his age, but he’s so goddamn tired. Moreover, he knows he could get someone else to do it pretty easily. Maybe he could be a martyr. He could save someone from a clicker or a soldier. He could save someone’s life for once. But would that be enough to save his soul? To make it to Heaven and see Ellie and Sarah again?

Maybe, he would, if God really does love people the way some say he does. But if Joel was God, he’d deny himself entry.

He stays in bed for the rest of the day. Aside from the two times he eats. And once in the middle of the night to take a piss because he may be depressed, but the last of his dignity is motivation enough not to wet the bed. 

He doesn’t shower or change his clothes. Not like he’s wearing a shirt anyway, just boxers ‘cause it’s too hot outside and he doesn’t want to get up and turn on the fan. Sleep doesn’t come easy, but it comes. It comes because it has to, reluctant as it is.

He wakes up to the voice of an unfamiliar woman. Quieter than Ellie or Sarah, less stern than Maria or Tess. Not like he was expecting to hear from three out of four of those women, not outside of his dreams. 

You’ve always cared about people, saving lives and all that. But you’re no good with a gun, so Tommy finds a better job than patrol for you.  

“You’re going to be watching my brother, Joel.”

“Like, spying on him?”

“No, like making sure he doesn’t kill himself.”

A suicidal man is nothing new, especially in this world, but Tommy’s bluntness about it is. He acts as if it’s a normal job. Like the ones in office buildings that sound wonderful even though the people who tell you about them assure you it was barely better than life is now. This new watchmen position is the same as patrol, in a way. Terrifying in the gravity it holds. You have to keep someone alive.

You can shoot deer, you can run quickly, you can hide well. You can survive on your own. But, at age 10, your mom bled out as you sat by her side. You were too weak to carry her, to dig a grave and bury her. Your survival feels unearned, but you’re no good with guns. You’d miss if you tried to do it. That’s a rare thought anyway, and surely not one you plan to ever speak aloud. They’d put you on watch too, which sounds suffocating, in all honesty.

You don’t know Joel. You’ve heard his name in passing, but you arrived in Jackson during the period of time he was gone. He was going to take some girl to some hospital for something or other. 

“What about that girl?” you ask. “Is she not taking care of him?”

“She’s not around anymore.”

“Oh,” you say. 

He just nods. The ‘why’ of the whole arrangement makes sense, but you’re still unclear on the ‘how’. Am I just supposed to stay in his house 24/7? Is he allowed to shower on his own? Do I have to cook or do laundry?

“Just check in on him. He’s not the most… personable, but don’t take anything he says to heart.”

Just check in on him. It sounds simpler than it will be, you know that much. Even keeping a plant alive takes more than ‘checking in on it’. 

You arrive at his house around 10 AM. You assume he’ll be awake, but when you look around his living room and kitchen, you can’t find him. Oh God, you think. What if he’s… 

He’s asleep in bed. You’re pretty sure. He’s lying there and there’s no evidence that anything’s wrong, but when you say his name from the doorway, he doesn’t move. So, you walk closer to him, just to make sure he’s breathing. 

“Joel,” you say softly – because your other option is reaching out to touch him, and you feel that’s a little too personal, especially when he’s not wearing a shirt. 

“Who the Hell are you and how did you get into my house?” he says. 

“Tommy sent me.”

“Oh, so they’re making you watch me?”

“Yeah.”

You’re glad he knows about the arrangement. Maybe he’ll give you some direction on what to do with him. 

“Must hate you if they stuck you with me.” 

You can’t tell if he’s being ironic, but you hope so. Still, you don’t know how to respond. You decide on a simple, “I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

Though you’re alone in the room, you sit with perfect posture on Joel’s couch, looking around at the decor – or lack thereof – looking for clues about who this man is. 

You think about making him breakfast, but you’d have to raid his cabinets to do so, and you’re terrified to make any missteps when it comes to Joel. You don’t think he’ll kill himself over burnt toast, but there is a persistent need lodged inside your brain to make him like you. It’s a little selfish when you should be focused on just keeping him alive, but maybe if he likes you, he’ll feel better, maybe you’ll feel better too. That’s still nothing but the ever-lingering hope in your heart. But it’s something.

He comes downstairs eventually, in a t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms. 

“Good morning,” you say. 

“No, it ain’t,” he says, heading in the direction of the kitchen. 

“Do you want me to help you with anything? Breakfast or coffee?”

“I can make my own damn coffee, kid.”

And he does. The first shred of kindness you get from him is an offer to pour you a cup. 

“I’m alright, but thank you.”

He sits down in a chair across from you and sips his coffee as you watch him awkwardly. 

“Are you really gonna do that all day?”

“Do what?”

“Sit there and stare at me.”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

“You could leave, for starters.”

“I’ll get in trouble.”

“What? You afraid Tommy’ll get upset with you?”

“A little.”

“He’s a softie. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

You are worried. Sure, you want Tommy to be happy with you, but moreover, you don’t want to leave Joel alone lest something happen to him. You might not know the guy very well, but you’d hate to see someone take their own life. 

“Can I just stay here? I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

He shrugs, and you take it as a yes.

He does not need a caregiver or a watchman. He does not need you, but you look like a kicked puppy and there’s no way he’ll force you to leave. Another young girl he’ll reluctantly let stick by his side. It’s almost cruel of Tommy to send someone like you. Someone young and full of life. Someone he has a hard time pushing away. 

He should’ve sent Joel a crotchety old bitch or a drill sergeant. Maybe Tommy thinks he’s doing Joel a favor by giving him a nice girl, polite and eager to please. It’s a good thing your chipper attitude irritates him. It’s the first item on the very small list of qualities that Joel dislikes.

At first, he insists on making his own food. You’re still a guest, even if he’s reluctant to have you as one. It doesn’t matter where he lives, he’ll always have been raised in Texas. He’ll always hear his mother calling him out on his lack of manners. His hospitality is force of habit.

Plus, if he lets you do anything for him, he’ll owe you something – at least in his mind. And he doesn’t want to owe anyone anything. He doesn’t want to give or get or build any kind of rapport with you whatsoever, especially since you seem to take all attention as progress, despite the fact that Joel is harsh with you most of the time. 

The whole ordeal makes him feel like more of a failure than he did before. He couldn’t save Ellie, or Sarah for that matter, and now he’s being forced into his own retirement or held hostage depending on how you look at it, so he can’t even get the satisfaction that productivity brings.

He also finds himself pretty fucking bored without work. He became so used to being in constant battle, even in his sleep. One wrong move and he was dead. The worst injury he’s gotten in the past few weeks was a paper cut.

Reading was never his biggest hobby, but it’s not bad when you find the right book. Often, you’ll sit across the room from him and read a book of your own, and the silence as he relaxes into the couch is quite peaceful for a change. 

No amount of peace and quiet can cure his boredom, though. It makes him antsy, and you notice. You notice a lot when your job is just staring at him, it seems.

“I found a book of crossword puzzles,” you announce. 

“Congratulations,” Joel says. 

“I thought since you were bored, I’d give them to you, and maybe you could do them…”

By the look on your face, he can guess that you’re regretting your words. Lest he make you cry, he accepts the book. 

“Plus, it looks kind of old so I don’t know if I’d know how to do it myself,” you add.

He knows you don’t mean it as an insult, but it sounds like one, and it makes him laugh. The list of qualities Joel likes about you is already long — and buried deep in his subconscious — but he’ll have to add the fact that you can make him laugh.

“Are you calling me old?”

“Not in a bad way. You’re just older than I am.”

He flips through the book and finds that about 80% of them are done. 

“Somebody did most of these already.”

“I’m sorry… maybe I could erase that person’s answers and then you could do them?”

“I think I’d still be able to tell.”

You hang your head in defeat. 

“Gimme a pencil and I’ll try the ones that aren’t done yet.”

You look through his junk drawer, find a pencil, and hand it to him. He doesn’t expect you to sit on the couch next to him. 

“I know you’re supposed to watch me, but you don’t have to watch that closely.”

You move away slightly, no longer looking over his shoulder. 

“I was just curious about the answers.”

“I was kidding around,” he says (though, it’s only a half-truth). “Come back here.”

It takes him about a week to finish the book. 

“Had to go back and fix some of the others,” he says. “The person who originally filled ‘em out was an idiot.”

“That’s not very nice. Maybe it was a kid.”

“Kid had great handwriting, then.”

You pause, hesitating for a reason he can’t pinpoint. 

“What? You want me to say sorry for calling that guy an idiot. ‘Cause I will if it matters that much to you.”

“No, no, fuck that guy, he was an idiot,” you say, clearly taking after him. 

“Language, Missy,” he says, jokingly scolding you. 

“Sorry. I should stop swearing.”

“It’s okay. You probably picked it up from me anyway.”

“Maybe,” you agree. You’re fidgeting, holding something behind your back, he notices. 

“Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” you say, holding it out to him. “I just figured since you finished the crossword book, I should get you more.”

He only did the crosswords for you. He never really cared for them anyway. He just wanted to make you happy — he’d rather have you content than pissy or whiny. The only thing worse than your constant insistence on getting his approval would be if you just sat there and cried all day.

He’d tried to give the book back to you, but you couldn’t do ‘em on your own since you were lacking in 90s pop culture knowledge. So, he did them, with you watching over his shoulder the whole time. 

He’s about to admit this to you and hand the new one back over to you when he looks at the pages – white paper, stapled together, all drawn up in pen. 

“Did you make these?” he asks, in awe of both your ability to draw perfectly straight lines, and moreover, how much you must care if you’re willing to go to these lengths. Kiss-ass behavior, he tells himself.

You nod, and he gets the sudden urge to hug you, but opts for a thank you with a smile he can’t repress.

“You didn’t have to do all this, but it’s very sweet of you.”

He considers taking back the ‘very sweet’ comment when he finds that 3 down is four letters with the prompt “grumpy old man”. JOEL fits perfectly in the blank spaces. 

You go on walks, read endless books, and Joel finally lets you start taking on some of the housework. It should be nice, but you get the feeling he’s not all that happy about this situation. Not that he tells you it outright. He doesn’t tell you much at all. And you’ve tried. It’s not like you’re asking hard-hitting questions. 

“How old are you?” 

“56.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

He doesn’t even bother to ask the same question back to you. Sometimes, he doesn’t even look up at you when you speak to him. You know it’s the depression of losing someone close to you, you know what that feels like – the problem is, you don’t know how to fix it. You only know how to hide it.

It’s quite simple, in theory. All you have to do is give him the desire to get out of bed every day. But you don’t even know what he likes. All you know is that your presence is not high on his list of favorite things. You try and try until you swear his shitty attitude is rubbing off on you. 

Tommy checks in with you periodically, asking you how things are going with Joel, and this would be the perfect opportunity for you to get out of this position, which Joel would probably love, but to spite him, you tell Tommy it’s going well.

And it is, in a way – Joel is not actively mean to you. He doesn’t insult you or argue with you, he just mostly ignores you. So, you figure if you ignore him, maybe he’ll miss your attention. Stupid teenage bullshit mindset, acting like you have a crush on him, playing some sort of push and pull game that he’s not even privy to. 

But that’s not like you. That brooding behavior is all Joel, so it lasts no more than a day or so until you go back to trying, and accept the fact that he’s just an asshole. Doesn’t mean you have to be one. 

You never expected to win him over with the crossword puzzles but you see the look in his eyes when you give him the homemade ones, and you know there’s something in there besides all that pain. You know that look, can’t put a name to it, all you know is that it’s a good sign, one you had yet to see from Joel.

Joel wouldn’t have thought he’d get tired of hearing someone ask, “can I do anything for you?”, constantly begging to dote on him, to care for him. The last time someone did this for him was on Father’s Day, which is an ancient holiday now, almost mythical.

But it’s been weeks of the same old shit. It has nothing to do with you. In fact, you’re probably the best ‘caregiver’ he could’ve gotten stuck with. Thing is, though, he doesn’t want a caregiver, and he’s tired of said caregiver bombarding him. It’s enough to just have her watching him like a hawk, but yapping in his ear is another thing. Because he enjoys the quiet (and because the way you ask him questions reminds him of Ellie.)

It’s a joke, a stupid joke. It’s his patience wearing thin.

“Can I get you anything?” you ask. 

“Sure. A beer, maybe. And a fuckin’ blowjob,” he mutters. Yeah, that’d be the dream but it’s a joke, bordering on a jab at you. 

“I don’t think we have any beer,” you say. You both know damn well there’s no alcohol in the house. 

“I know.”

“And, as for the other thing- is that something that you’d want… me to do?”

“Hey,” his tone softens. “Sweetheart, it was a joke. I was messing with you.”

“Okay, so you don’t want that, correct?”

“It was a joke. I’m sorry I even said it.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you say, sheepishly. “It’s your house, your rules, right?”

The concept of free speech in his house was one he’d brought up regarding ‘swear words’— It’s his house so he’s allowed to say ‘fuck’, ‘shit’, ‘bitch’, and every other word he could come up with, and he came up with some deep cuts just to make you laugh. Admittedly, it’s a nice sound.

“Yeah.” He thinks for a moment. “I just think that these sorts of topics aren’t appropriate for someone…”

“You know I’m an adult, right, Joel?”

“Yes, I know, but you’re still young and you seem a little innocent. I don’t want to put those types of thoughts in your head.”

“I know what a blowjob is, and I know what sex is. I just haven’t found the right person yet. That doesn’t mean I’ve never thought about it or whatever.”

You rarely snap at him, so he knows that word — innocent — must’ve been more offensive than he’d meant it. Maybe you’re not innocent. Maybe you’re just kind and a hell of a lot younger than him. Maybe it just seems like you should be.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just saying that I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“But do you want it?” You punctuate every word with a newfound annoyance.

“It’s not about that.”

“Yes it is.” You’re quite incredulous for someone who has been presented with the idea only a moment ago.

“Fine. Yes, in theory, if we were just two people who know each other, then, sure, if you offered, I’d say yes.”

“I offered.”

The way he calls you ‘sweetheart’ feels more like an insult than a term of endearment. You’d rather be ‘kid’ or nothing at all, anything less patronizing. It’s worse when he calls you innocent. You’re not innocent, you’re just nice — something that Joel is not. You’re painfully nice. You’ve heard it makes people like you. You’re still waiting on the results, though.

But, if he’d ordered you to suck him off, you’d have kneed him in the balls, and he would’ve thought twice about calling you ‘sweetheart’. The thing is, he doesn’t. Instead, he backs away from the opportunity, tells you it was a joke. 

But you see two things behind his eyes: one, he wants this. He might not want to want this, but he does. More importantly, you see his genuine concern for your well-being override this desire and you realize you feel safer around him than you do around most men. That’s one of the reasons that you do give him ‘a fuckin’ blowjob’. The other being that, sometimes, before you go to bed, you can’t sleep, and a certain man comes to mind as your fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties. 

When you reiterate that you offered, you exchange a long stare wherein you try to reach into each other’s souls and sort this shit out but when you both realize you can’t, Joel says, “Okay.”

And you say, “Okay.”

A new kind of tension bubbles to the surface as Joel sits down on the couch and you kneel before him. 

You fiddle with his belt, eventually managing to get it undone, but Joel does the rest of the work it takes to get his pants down to his ankles, boxers too. 

You’d imagined he’d be big, but that’s how fantasies work. Every man’s dick is big in your lewd daydreams, but it’s like you manifested it with Joel. You begin to feel like you’re in over your head, and though you aren’t innocent, you aren’t experienced enough to take him. But who are you to back down from a challenge?

Joel can see hesitation wash over your face for the first time. You pause, study the scene like you’re trying to decide your approach, and then you take his cock in your hand, looking up at him like you’re asking for the green light.

He gives you the go-ahead with the only piece of advice he thinks you’ll need. “Just don’t bite, and you’ll do fine.”

He probably should’ve mentioned another thing: don’t take too much at once or you’ll choke. His head lolls back and his eyes fall closed the moment your lips meet the tip of it. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t want you to feel intimidated by his presence while you’re exploring, so to speak. He lets out a low groan of approval to let you know he’s still with you.

But he’s fading into a beautiful oblivion until he hears you gag, feels you sputter and it shocks him out of that blissful feeling. His eyes snap open and he cradles the back of your head. 

“Easy, easy,” he says. “Don’t hurt yourself.” 

You pull away briefly and catch your breath. 

“That’s good,” he says. “Breathe, baby.”

He can see you looking for instructions, so he takes your hand and helps you get a firm grip on his cock, sliding your hand up and down, and finally letting you do it on your own. 

“Doin’ good, baby,” he says. “You gotta give your mouth a break sometimes.”

You’ve never gotten anything close to praise from Joel before. It’d warm your heart like nothing else if it weren’t so goddamn sexy in this context. 

You nod, wipe the spit from your chin, and give your mouth a brief break, but you can’t hold yourself back forever. Soon, your lips are back on his cock, kissing from the base to the tip, flicking your tongue over the head, seeing what reactions you can get from him. 

When you get into the rhythm of hand and mouth in tandem, you barely register him telling you that he’s gonna come. 

You imagine it’s an acquired taste but it’s not awful. You can swallow it. So, you do, and you look up at him with a smile. 

He looks like he’s woken up from a dream and he’s still getting his bearings straight, but he’s quick to stand up and take your hand. 

“Where are we going?”

“To my bed.”

You’d follow him anywhere but bed does sound good to you right now. It sounds like an adventure. You don’t go into his bedroom unless absolutely necessary. You’d think he was hiding something horrible in there if you didn’t have a mutual feeling regarding your own bedroom.

“Are we going to have sex?” you ask. 

“No,” he says. 

“Then, what are we going to do?”

“You,” he begins. “Are going to lie back and relax.”

He coaxes you to lie down, and he doesn’t have to try hard. 

“I,” he continues. “Am going to make you feel good.”

You’re fairly certain about what he means, so there’s nothing left for you to do but let him do the work. It’s just another part of the job you’ll have to learn from experience.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says. 

You nod. 

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he says, playing with the hem of your t-shirt. 

“Wait-” you say, sitting up, and he withdraws. “Can we kiss… first?”

He looks surprised for a moment, and you worry you’ve fucked up. 

“I just feel like we should do that,” you say, much quieter.

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess that makes sense.”

His hand cups your cheek and he looks you in the eyes like he’s trying to find answers somewhere in there. 

“Has anyone ever kissed you before?”

“Not really, not the way I want you to kiss me.”

“Feels a bit rude of me to have put my dick in your mouth before you’d even been kissed.”

Still, he leans in and kisses you, but it’s soft, gentle. It’s not a peck on the lips, though, it’s more. It gradually gains momentum and passion. Eventually, he slips his tongue in your mouth and you take it in stride. 

“You’re very good at this,” he says. “If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t think this was your first time.”

“Is that a compliment?” you ask, doubting Joel is capable of such things.

He ignores your question, and sighs. You know it’s not directed at you because you’re fairly sure he’s not listening.

“I know I said I was gonna do some things with you, but I don’t wanna take things too fast, okay?”

“Are you saying you’re just going to kiss me?”

“I think that’d be the right thing to do.”

“That’s not fair,” you whine.

You wish you could sound sexy, or whatever, but you probably come off like a bratty child.  

“Excuse me?”

“That’s not fair. You said you’d make me feel good. I thought you were gonna return the favor.”

“I was.”

“Then, why are you backing out?”

You’re shocked that he’s the pussy — pun-intended — in this scenario.

“I thought it might be too much for you.”

You grab his hand and slip it under the flimsy fabric of your shorts. 

His eyes go wide. 

Fucking hell, you’re wet, is the only thought on Joel’s mind. It makes sense. He’d be offended, maybe even worried if you were dry as a desert down there, but he’s barely touched you. Either you really enjoyed kissing him or you actually liked sucking him off too.

He gently presses the pads of his fingers against the wet spot on your panties.

“You’re right, baby. It’s only fair if I help you out.”

He’s able to get your shorts and your panties down in one swift pull. You look impressed by the action. Just you wait, he thinks. He’s not an expert by any means, but it’s not too hard to learn if you pay attention — and sex is one of the only times Joel does listen — it’s also not a skill you lose over time. It’s muscle memory, or maybe it’s innate.

His thumb rubs your clit lazily as he watches your face scrunch up in pleasure, your eyes fill with need. When the first finger slips inside you, he hears a breathy sigh come from above — it sounds like relief though he knows you haven’t come yet.

He’s never had a woman have such a strong reaction to his lips on her clit. It almost startles him at first. You’re frantic from the moment his lips meet your skin, crying out for him like you’re scared he’ll stop.

“Hey,” he says, “I’m right here. Don’t have to get so worked up. I’m gonna take care of you.”

He can’t say another word because his lips are occupied, so he relies on his hands, his soothing touch, to tell you that everything is alright. He gets the urge to tell you how good you are for him, how good you taste, how pretty you are like this, but he knows it’d be cruel to let up now. He’s callous often, sometimes harsh, but rarely cruel.

His instinct tells him to drag this out, to make your thighs shake, to have tears running down your cheeks, to tease you. To be the asshole that he tends to be when you’re around (and when you’re not). This is a version of Joel you might come to like.

He’s lived long enough to be well-practiced in this field of life. Doesn’t matter if he’s particularly romantic or even sociable, it’s just happened enough times over the course of fifty plus years for him to know the ins and outs. He can get you there quickly and lead you through it slowly.

He’s so used to you saying his name in a tone he considers pestering that he’s begun to hate the word itself. But when it’s drawn out and desperate like this, it sounds wonderful.

You’re at his mercy, he thinks. Which means he’s in control. And, as much as he’d hate to admit it, control does not mean he can kill you, control means he can care for you.

When you come down from your high, Joel is looking up at you from between your thighs with messy hair and kiss-dark lips. His smile looks like one of pride. Your cheeks heat up, only half-remembering what just happened. You could describe the event simply in a cause and effect relationship — he went down on you, so you came. You know what an orgasm feels like, but that was something beyond anything you’d ever experienced before. You fear an addiction may be coming on.

Your voice comes out shaky, which only makes your first words after a long silence sound stupider. “Thank you.”

He looks confused, and it takes him a moment to respond. “My pleasure,” he says, and you swear it might be when you see a semi through his sweatpants.

You’d offer more ‘help’ but you truly don’t think you can manage it. You can feel your body pulling you towards sleep. Your eyes have barely opened and they want to close again.

Joel notices because how could he not, you’re completely naked in every sense of the word.

“Get some rest,” he says before standing up.

He’s leaving.

“Where are you going?” you ask, instinctively.

“Downstairs.”

You do not want to say it. The fear of rejection is too strong, but so is the sudden urge to cry. Holding back tears is a strength of yours, though, so Joel never sees them. Somehow, after doing one of the most adult things, you feel like a baby in the wake of it. You are supposed to be taking care of him, and you are failing.

“What?” is his response to your refusal to meet his eyes.

“I just assumed you were going to stay. That’s all.”

“I can. If that’s what you need me to do.”

You don’t say anything. He climbs into bed anyway after picking up your underwear and handing it to you.

He doesn’t hold you but he doesn’t leave either. What he does do is kiss you on the forehead when he thinks you’re already asleep. It’s a compromise between your fear and your desire.

It isn’t as weird as one might think it would be — acting as if you’ve never done anything remotely sexual with one another. It’s easier because you don’t have to go back to being friends. You never really were. It was always awkward. What’s new? Only your knowledge that at least some of your feelings are mutual. Only the fact that you think about having sex with him every time he’s in front of you. It’s really just out of curiosity sometimes. What would he be like in bed? Does he want it too? How would you even broach the subject?

Sometimes, it’s not just curiosity. Those days are harder to navigate. You have to pretend like every little touch — most of them accidental — fuels the fire. It’s not the sensation itself. It’s just the acute awareness of his body, how close it is to yours, how easily you could reach out and touch him, that enters your mind.

“You’re staring.” Joel says from the other side of the couch.

“Sorry. I zoned out.”

“Got something’ on your mind?”

“Not really.”

“C’mon, what is it?”

“Why do you suddenly care about my thoughts?” About me.

“You think I didn’t care about you before? You’ve been in my house everyday for months now.”

“So?”

“And, I haven’t tried to kick you out yet.”

“You’re not allowed to kick me out. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Okay. How ‘bout this: I’m down here sitting with you because I know you don’t like to be alone.”

“So you pity me?”

“No, if I pitied you, I’d have told Tommy to give you a new job.”

“Okay, so, you expect me to believe you care but you refuse to talk to me half the time.”

“I’m not much of a talker. But, now that I’m trying to talk to you, you’re shutting me out.”

“I’m not— It’s just not a big deal. I don’t even remember what I was thinking about anyway.”

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“I said, that’s bullshit.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll talk.”

You take a deep breath before speaking, one long enough that he gestures for you to go on.

“I was just thinking about what it would be like if we had sex.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, since we, you know, we did that stuff… it’s not like it’s a totally crazy thought.”

“‘That stuff’? Be more specific, honey.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“I do, but you can’t be thinking about having sex with me when you can’t even use big girl words when you’re talking about it.”

“It doesn’t even matter.” Your face is burning. It so, totally, does matter. “I was just curious.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Mm-hmm. Go on thinking, I’ll get back to reading.”

“Wait, what? You just made me tell you that to make me embarrassed? You’re not even gonna—”

“What? Gonna fuck you?”

The word slips out of his mouth so easily.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Truth is: he’s been thinking about you every day since. He only caught you staring because he was doing the same. He tries to restrain himself because it feels like the right thing to do.

But he still, he acquiesces and takes you upstairs to his bedroom.

He lays you down on the bed and undresses you slowly like you’re a gift and he doesn’t want to tear the paper. He places your clothes atop the dresser, but leaves his strewn across the floor.

Wonder fills your eyes as he reveals his naked body. Hesitation and awe wrapped up in one.

“Wow,” you say, breaking the silence, “it’s, um, you know— do you think it’ll fit?”

It’s not the first time he’s heard that. It no longer brings him that bashful pride that it did when he was younger. It’s just a fact. A nuisance sometimes.

“Not if we don’t get you ready first.”

“Do you need to get ready first too?”

He looks down at his cock, rock-hard and eager.

“No, baby, just looking at you is enough to get me ready.”

A thought crosses his mind — one he thought he’d left in his teenage years — what if he comes too quickly?

He lies back on the bed next to you and reaches for you, waits for you to let him maneuver you.

“Come here,” he says.

You sit up and face him, slowly inch towards his arms that beckon you.

You’re fairly sure you know what he wants you to do. Sit on his face. But god, something about it seems awkward in the amount of control you simultaneously give up and are given in turn.

“You trust me, right?” he asks.

“Of course.”

An answer you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d give back when you first met.

“Then, come sit on my face.”

You swing your leg over him and steady yourself above his face.

He grips your thighs to guide you. You grip the headboard to save yourself from passing out the moment Joel’s mouth meets your skin.

Joel wouldn’t be the man you’d have thought would have such a talented tongue based on how little he uses it. You can’t blame him for not talking right now. Your moans echo off his bedroom walls and permeate the balmy summer air. The windows are closed and the curtains shield your naked bodies from the neighbors but even if you’d left them open, you wouldn’t have the sense to care.

You’re an incoherent mess of moans and half-words, trembling thighs and sweat. Your orgasm comes on strong, and if your eyes weren’t screwed shut, maybe you’d see the gates of heaven.

It’s been a while since he’s done this. Tess never liked it like this and the last woman before her was one from another lifetime, pre-outbreak, an inconceivable world despite having once called it home.

He’s not really thinking about that, though, in this moment, all Joel can think of is you. Your skin, your sweat, your heat, and the pretty noises you make. At one point, he swears he hears his name though your thighs are covering his ears. And he doesn’t mind it one bit.

“I’m gonna pass out,” he hears from above him.

“No, you’re not. I’ve got you,” he tries to say, though surely his words are muffled.

“Don’t let me go.”

He doesn’t. He carefully helps you lie back on the bed. When he meets your gaze, he swears he’s never seen adoration like that in anyone’s eyes before. At least, not in a long time.

It terrifies him, but in spite of his hesitation, he holds you close.

A blanket of peaceful silence settles over your bare bodies.

You speak quietly, trying not to awaken Joel’s senses. The ones that pull him away from you. The moment feels like glass in your hands.

“Are we going to have sex?”

“Hm?”

“We were going to, right? You were getting me ready for it.”

“I thought I wore you out.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I want to stop.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’d tell you if you were.”

He hesitates.

“I’ll be good. I promise.”

Those are the words that awaken his arousal. In an instant, you find his body looming above yours. He kisses you until your lips are red and puffy. He doesn’t break your gaze as he positions his cock at your entrance. Your green light is your needy hips begging him to fuck you.

He starts slow, even the head is a stretch. You scrunch up your face and hold back the urge to squirm.

“It’s gonna be a little uncomfortable at first, baby, and that’s why we’re gonna take it slow.”

Slow is an understatement. It takes ages for him to give you another inch — or maybe you’re just antsy. This one makes you whimper, makes you clamp down around him.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re gonna be fine.”

Joel’s voice is tender and sweet, and it gives you enough hope to ask for something you think he’d usually deny you.

“Can you hold my hand?”

He interlocks his fingers with yours. It feels oddly natural. He doubts he’s heard someone ask to hold his hand since— not now, he’ll go soft if he thinks about her. He’ll close in on himself and you need him — in more ways than one.

He continues slowly as he promised he would until he hears your moans of pleasure and your pleas for more, more, more. More is a little bit faster, a little bit harder, as deep as you can take it, and most importantly, his thumb tracing circles on your clit.

You squeeze his hand with yours as your inner walls clamp down around him.

“Just let it happen. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

When you come, he does too — the most blissful mistake he’s ever made.

Curses fly out of his mouth through his orgasm, stopping briefly as he catches his breath, and resuming when he pulls out and watches as his come drips out of you.

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you insist. “I liked it.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Because I fucking loved it. “But, it’s dangerous. We’ve gotta be more careful.”

In the future — it’s implied. Another time is nothing when the lines have all been crossed and when the other side brings him a warmth the hot summer never could.

You have more power over him than the sun.

It becomes a routine — briefly — and you are more careful. You discreetly buy condoms, but when your next period doesn’t come, you fear it might be too late.

You don’t tell Joel, not at first. Sometimes, they’re irregular, and you don’t want to give the man a heart attack. But then a week passes, another week passes, and eventually you have to — especially when you’re beginning to feel a bit nauseous and have no other explanation for it. It’s better to say something before he asks.

“Joel,” you say, “I haven’t gotten my period yet.”

A look of horror crosses his face before he asks, “How late is it?”

You take a breath before admitting, “A few weeks.”

“How many?”

“Almost three.”

“Fuck.” He sighs in preemptive defeat. “Have you taken a test?”

“No, I thought it would come so I didn’t want to overreact.”

“We’re going to go get one.”

He stands up immediately and turns towards the door.

“Wait,” you say, stopping him in his tracks.

“I should probably get it. It’ll look less suspicious.”

No, it won’t. Those who suspect something is up with you, will have their suspicions, and those who don’t, won’t think to pay attention.

They recommend taking multiple because false negatives are common.

The first one is a clear positive, so clear you think it might be a false positive, so you wait to freak out until you see two lines come up on the second test.

Joel is silent, even when you hand him the test.

But, so are you, because what more is there to say? The tests say it all.

“I’ll do whatever you need me to,” he says, and you’re surprised until he clarifies.

“I doubt they’ll make you pay for the pill or the procedure — however they do it, but I’ll take care of you while you’re recovering. I’ll be there through it all. Promise.”

The pill or the procedure. The abortion that he expects you to have. Truth be told, you hadn’t really thought about what you’d do until now. It’s probably the right decision. Do you really want to bring a baby into this world? Can you even take care of one?

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll make an appointment.”

You save your tears for Maria. She approaches you in the clinic. You’d be delighted to see her at any other moment.

“Making an appointment?” she asks.

“Yeah, just a checkup,” you lie.

The woman at the counter clarifies with you. “Just a checkup? Is that what you’d prefer?”

You turn back and forth between her and Maria.

“Um, no,” you say, “keep it as is.”

Maria raises an eyebrow and there is nowhere left to hide. You might be able to outrun her, but she knows where you live and isn’t afraid to confront you at your doorstep.

She saves you some of your dignity when she whispers, “How about a chat at my place? I have some tea that helps with nausea.”

The tea is persuasive but you’d have to go anyway. You don’t speak on the walk to Maria’s. She brews the tea and you sit across from each other in the kitchen before she finally speaks.

“What’s the appointment for?” she asks. “And I’m not here to judge you, I just want the truth.”

You’re not my mom, you could say, but she’s the closest thing you’ve had to one since your own passed.

“An abortion,” you say quietly, looking down at the table, at your hands around the mug.

“Okay,” she says, gently. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You try to reply but all the comes out is a sob.

Eventually, she pries the truth out of you. You explain what happened when you told Joel the news.

“So, he made the decision, and then told you he’d be there for you if he did what you wanted?”

“I guess. But, I think it might be the right choice. I mean, it'd be hard to raise a child in this world…” You cut yourself off when you look at her bump. She’s gonna be a mom, a good mom. And, stupidly, you’re jealous.

Even though it’s not there yet, you swear you can see a high chair in your periphery. You could be holding a warm bottle instead of a hot mug of tea. Maria could be feeding her child his first bite of baby food next to you.

“Let me ask you something, and I want you to really think about it, and be honest with me.”

You nod and wait for her question.

“If Joel had said he’d support you no matter what, even if you wanted to keep the child, if he said he’d step up as a father, would you have made the appointment?”

“I don’t know.” Oh, but you do. Maria waits for you to come to a conclusion, for you to spit it out.

“I like the idea of having a kid. I love kids, and I sometimes think about what it would be like being a mom, but I know that I can’t be one. Not right now.”

If there is one thing Joel can’t be, it’s a father. Not again. He’s too old, too grouchy, too cynical. He’s not the man he used to be. He was never good at it anyway. He couldn’t save his own kid. He’s already a failed father — once, if not, twice.

You’d be a great mother, and that’s the greatest tragedy. He’s failed you already. He’s not good at the kinder things of life. He shouldn’t have indulged in you, in the love you gave him when he cannot give it back. There are a lot of things Joel can’t quite get right — being a lover, a father, a good man.

Every night since the outbreak began, he’s watched Sarah bleed out in his arms. Sometimes he sees Tess, Sam and Henry, Bill, even Tommy which feels like an augury. Ellie is there almost every night, losing consciousness. Only sometimes is she in that hospital bed, often, she’s lying in the show, with blue lips and almost no pulse. Now, you’ve begun to enter his subconscious. You’re always too far out of reach, screaming his name until he’s shot dead, and the last thing he hears is you shriek as you watch him die in front of you.

Another person is another tragedy once they have the misfortune of coming into his life. There cannot be another person, especially not a child.

You should be back by now, he thinks as he splashes water on his face for the umpteenth time, hoping it’ll wash away all the mistakes he’s made.

He can tell it’s Maria by the way her knuckles rap on his front door. He can tell she’s pissed too.

When he opens the door, he sees you in standing behind her, like you’re afraid of him.

“Unless you want to have this discussion on your doorstep, I suggest you let me — us — inside.”

He does, reluctantly.

“Joel Miller, when do you plan on becoming a man?”

“What?”

“You just told her to make an appointment, didn’t even give her a chance to think about it? You managed to run away from your problems while you’re on house arrest. Impressive.”

“I thought that was what we both wanted,” he says, looking past her, to you.

“I guess, maybe,” you shrug.

The one thing he’s grateful for is Maria’s suggestion that you talk privately.

You sit further from him than usual, you refuse to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask what you wanted. I thought I was making the right choice.”

“It’s okay. I don’t even know what I want.”

But the tears suggest otherwise.

“Do you want to keep the baby?”

“Maybe, but I can’t. It’s not a good idea.”

“That’s what I think, but Maria’s right, it’s your choice.”

“But I don’t know how to make that choice.”

“You’ve got a good heart. Follow it.”

You spend a lot of time thinking, remembering, and trying to convince yourself that there is no part of you that wants to be a mother. But, in your bedside drawer, there is a handful of photos — all from before the outbreak. You see your mom as a child on a swing set, and as a teen blowing out candles on her birthday. Her mom is in that one too, sitting next to her, smiling. You wish more than anything to have pictures of you and your mom.

You think about the little girl who pretended a ratty old stuffed bear was her baby. You can hear your mom telling you that you’re doing a good job, how you’ll be good at this one day. Your bedtime stories were never about fairy princesses, but about your family, the ones you didn’t get to meet.

“I wish I could have that,” you’d say.

“One day, you might be able to — the world is scary right now, but that doesn’t mean it’s gonna be like this forever,” she’d insist.

In retrospect, you wonder if she really believed that, if she really believed that teddy bear would one day be a baby that you’d be the one carrying, and she’d be the proud grandmother.

“I told her I wanted to be a mom like her,” you explain to Joel, and he understands.

You know about Ellie, but not about Sarah. Joel never brings either of them up to you. Until now. It’s a fair trade, he tells himself. Photos for photos, info for info. But it’s more than that.

“Hold on for one minute, I’m gonna go get something, and I’ll be right back.”

It’ll only take him a second to grab the pictures, but he’ll need a moment to compose himself.

“This is Sarah,” he says, pointing to the little girl in the photo. “My daughter.”

You’re silent for a moment, gazing at the photo, at a younger Joel you’ve never met.

You’re the first person not to tell him that you’re sorry for his loss, and he is relieved not to hear the empty sympathies once more.

“What was she like?” you ask.

It’s hard to explain, and for that reason, he talks for at least a half hour about Sarah. All her likes and dislikes, all his favorite moments from the day she was born until the day she died. He tells the story of that too.

When you try to tell him that he sounds like he was a good dad, he has to explain why he wasn’t.

“I couldn’t save her,” he says.

“I couldn’t save her either,” you say, pointing to your mother in one of the photos.

“You were just a child,” he says. “It’s not your fault.”

“And, you were just a man,” you say. “It’s not your fault.”

“A grown man.”

“Doing the best that you could.”

And you’re right. He did try his best. He stops arguing not because he’ll ever concede but because the weight of the present falls upon him all at once as he meets your eyes and remembers why you’re here.

He can’t have Sarah back, he can’t have Ellie back, but you’re right in front of him — and he loves you. It’s too late to turn back and kick you out on your first day, it’s too late to never speak to you, it’s too late to not love you.

It’s not too late to fail you like he’s failed everyone else. It’s not too late to do the opposite either.

You tell him your decision, and wait for his disagreement, for him to dissuade you. But, he doesn’t.

“Okay,” he says.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try my best.”

You cancel the appointment and make the final decision, but it doesn’t feel real until Joel finishes building the crib in the spare bedroom. The most unexpected part is how excited you feel even when you’re nauseous, even when your feet are bloated, even when your back is killing you.

You’re also terrified, particularly when you hear Maria’s account of her labor and delivery. For someone describing how painful it was, she seems oddly unfazed, happy even. She’s too focused on her baby boy, and you get it — he is pretty cute.

When the day comes, you find that you’ve underestimated the pain entirely. The wounds you’ve gotten in combat are nothing compared to this. Every hour that goes by feels like a full day for you. Every time the doctor checks your dilation it’s still not yet time.

Until it is. And everything becomes a million times more chaotic. You swear the only thing keeping you sane is Joel’s hand in yours. (You have to apologize later for squeezing it so tightly.)

Finally, the telltale cry comes, and it feels like you’ve run a marathon by how exhausted you are and by how proud you are of yourself for doing it. This will go down as the greatest feat of your life and you are more than satisfied with that fact.

The doctor announces that it’s a boy and though he said he’d be fine with either gender, Joel’s smile is wider than you’ve ever seen it. You’re smiling almost as big. It hurts your cheek muscles but you can’t stop, especially when they hand you your baby boy. Though he doesn’t know how to speak, his hand wrapped around your finger tells you that it’s going to be okay.

There is so much pain in this world, but not in this room.

[vinelark]

I've been going through ur fic recs and after binging through "A Meditation On Railroading" and "The Long Way Home", I'm now obsessed with Jason and Tim. Something about hating each other but not really, all the bad blood and hurt and still becoming brothers bc how couldn't they

I wanted to ask if you know any other fics that are about them?

Thanks! :)

i had to make a real effort to keep this (relatively) short or it would just be hundreds of fics long. here is a very incomplete list of old favs and recent reads! i've definitely rec'd some of them already, but i think others are new to my fic rec tag.   you already mentioned a meditation on railroading and the long way home; i’m linking them again here for anyone else who wants them, because they are two of my favs and would kick off this list if you hadn’t already read them.   robin!jason era   Brother Wanted by Vamillepudding one of the most impressive things a story can do, imo, is pull off a really believable kid/teen pov—this does it twice, for both tim and jason, and it’s one of my fav rereads.

Like a Hinge, Like a Wing by @bonesbuckleup i’ll always be reccing this one; it’s one of my favorite slow-burn hurt/comfort fics, and the tim & jason relationship in this context is very sweet + compelling as they deal with some rough edges unique to this story.

1-800-ROBIN by spqr jason volunteers for a mental health hotline, and this leads to bonding with tim. this has some incredibly tender moments and a great robin!jason pov.   red hood!jason era

cake is a four letter word by @sonosvegliato jason just wants to make a loaf of bread. then tim shows up. i love when a writer nails tim in peak Annoying Mode (❤️).

geolocation by @envysparkler i love a good forced-to-work-together oneshot, and this one gets bonus points for the sheer amount of “actions speak louder than words” going on with every single thing jason does.

Tim in a Bottle by @coyote-nebula (wip) angst and humor galore; tim and jason and their giant pile of unresolved issues all get locked in a walk-in freezer together. need i go on?

the trolley problem by @silk-scarlet-ribbons this is—i say with full appreciation—an absolute pangfest. jason is taken by an enemy, and that enemy has kidnapped a "random civilian" (you guessed it: tim) for leverage to get jason to do what they want. (also check out requiem for the forsaken by the same author, which is the fic that finally got my best friend to start caring about robins with me.)

Short-Term Memory Loss (Leads to Long-Term Sibling) by Vamillepudding a bittersweet + hopeful story in which red hood!jason gets temporarily whammed back to robin!jason, and bonds with tim.

Say Uncle by @megaerakles an incredibly fun twist on tim’s fake uncle with layers upon layers of identity shenanigans.

of crime lords and literature by @adelfie a wonderfully angsty, plotty fic in which tim ends up in danger as himself, and—after a very rocky start—jason is somehow the one who rescues him.

unequipped by Valkirin there’s a lot of jason saving tim on this list, and this story is a delightful reversal of that trope. red hood’s in trouble, and tim shows up to bail him out.

For All The Just Alike Birds by @sunflowersandink tim breaks his arm, and jason makes it his problem. featuring some excellent begrudgingly worried jason pov!

alternate universe

clean it like you mean it by @wynterstars (wip) i adore this jason-joins-the-family late AU; the central robin!tim & sort-of-civilian!jason dynamic is so compelling. marked as a wip, but currently leaves off in a very satisfying place!

[mcrdvcks]

—what is this feeling?

summary: You and Peter have known each other since you were kids—only because you were friends with his distant cousin Olivia. While you have harbored a crush on him for years, you're sure he doesn't feel the same.

word count: 16.2k+ (31.6k+ total)

pairing: Peter Lyman x fem!reader

notes: i watched scoop (2006) for the first time a week-ish ago and i needed to write something with peter. it's kinda canon to the movie—in the sense that it follows a tiny bit of the story, mainly just the parties that were shown.

this was actually a bit hard to write, i kept second guessing myself wondering if i got his character right or not. i hope i did, bc this is a roller coaster. and also, be sure to look at the tags, because when i say toxic peter lyman, i mean it. and please don't ask how this is 32k words, i have no idea how it happened 😅

since it is so long, there are two parts to this since tumblr has a word limit!

warnings/tags: loosely follows event of scoop (2006) but not canon, miscommunication, shy!reader, slow burn, jealousy, angst, mention of murder/death, toxic peter lyman, but also sweet peter lyman (the duality of man), happy ending, not proofread

⁠♡ part 2 ♡

You looked away from the mirror at your friend Olivia, who just got off the phone. “I’m sorry. I can’t go tonight. My boss just called about a work emergency and it’s all hands-on deck.”

“Oh.” You replied, setting down your lipstick, one you thankfully hadn’t applied yet. “Well, I guess I’ll get out of your hair and go back to my pla—”

Olivia gasped, holding you by the shoulders. “What? No, you’re going to that concert.”

Your eyebrows rose and you stuttered, “but—”

She cut you off with a grin, “c’mon, it’ll give you time to bond with Peter.” Olivia drawled.

You felt your cheeks heat up, “I don’t…” You trailed off, looking away from her and focusing on the wall behind her. There was a small blotch of white paint on her tan wall.

“You’ve spent a lot of time with him. Ever since we were kids.”

"Yeah, but he’s your cousin," you interjected, hoping Olivia would drop it.

Olivia rolled her eyes, squeezing your shoulders for emphasis. “Seriously, Y/N, it’s Peter. He’s nice, he likes you, and you’ve been to a million family things with him. What’s the big deal?”

You frowned, shaking her hands off. “It’s different, okay? You’re usually there, or someone else is. I don’t—I just feel awkward when it’s just the two of us.”

She gave you a knowing smirk, leaning against the doorframe. “Awkward, huh? Or are you worried you’ll stutter every time he so much as looks at you?”

“I don’t—” you started to protest, but Olivia laughed.

“You do. You totally do.”

You crossed your arms, cheeks burning. “Can we not do this right now? I’ll just tell him you can’t make it, and we’ll both skip—problem solved.”

Olivia groaned and grabbed her coat. “Nope, not happening. He’s already on his way to pick us up. You’re going. You’re putting on that lipstick. And you’re going to sit through the concert without spontaneously combusting.”

“Liv!” you whined, but she just winked, swinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Have fun!” she chirped, then disappeared out the door before you could come up with a good excuse to chase her down.

---

Peter arrived about fifteen minutes later, sharp as ever in a tailored black coat and that impossibly confident smile. You opened the door, trying not to feel self-conscious under his gaze.

“Y/N,” he greeted warmly. “Ready for the evening?”

“Uh, yeah,” you stammered, stepping aside to let him in. “Liv had a work thing come up, so it’s just, um… us.”

He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise passing over his face before he nodded. “Shame she can’t make it. But I suppose it’ll give us a chance to catch up.”

You managed a small smile, grabbing your coat. “Right. Catch up.”

---

The car ride to the concert hall was quiet, save for Peter’s occasional remarks about the evening’s program. He seemed perfectly at ease, while you stared out the window, hyper-aware of how close you were sitting.

When the car stopped, Peter stepped out first, offering you a hand as you climbed out. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” he asked, gesturing to the grand concert hall.

“A few times,” you replied, trying to sound casual. “It’s always… impressive.”

He smiled. “Wait until you hear tonight’s performance. It’s one of my favorites.”

---

Inside, you settled into your seats—side by side, of course. The lights dimmed, and the orchestra began to tune, the hum of violins filling the air. Peter leaned closer, his voice low.

“Do you know this piece?”

You turned to him, surprised by how close he was. “Not really. Should I?”

He chuckled softly. “I think you’ll like it. Very dramatic.”

You nodded, quickly looking back at the stage, but you could feel his eyes on you for a moment longer before he leaned back into his seat.

---

At intermission, you both stood in the crowded foyer, surrounded by elegant couples sipping champagne. Peter handed you a glass, his expression thoughtful.

“So,” he said, “how are you finding it so far? Be honest.”

“It’s… really beautiful,” you admitted, fidgeting with the stem of your glass. “I don’t usually go to things like this, but it’s nice.”

He studied you for a moment, then smiled. “You’ve always been good at appreciating the little things. It’s one of the things I’ve always liked about you.”

You nearly choked on your sip of champagne, glancing up at him in surprise. “Oh. Um… thank you.”

Peter’s smile widened, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “You don’t need to look so startled, Y/N. It’s just a compliment.”

“Right,” you said quickly, cheeks heating up again. “Of course. Thanks.”

He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to figure you out. “You’re adorable when you’re nervous, you know that?”

“I—what?” you stammered, but before you could finish, the bell chimed, signaling the end of intermission.

Peter offered his arm, his tone light but teasing. “Shall we?”

You hesitated for a moment, then looped your arm through his, your heart pounding as you followed him back to your seats.

---

Once the concert was over, Peter led you out of the concert hall, his hand resting lightly at the small of your back. The crowd thinned as the night air hit your face, crisp and cool compared to the warmth inside. His car waited at the curb, sleek and polished, and he opened the door for you without hesitation.

“Still enjoying yourself?” he asked once you were both seated, his tone light.

“Yes,” you replied, glancing at him. “It was… really amazing. Thank you for inviting me.”

He gave a small, thoughtful smile, his hands resting loosely on the steering wheel. “I’m glad you came. I was afraid I’d be sitting through it alone tonight.”

The comment was harmless, but you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering—was that why he hadn’t seemed to mind Olivia’s absence? You pushed the thought aside, unsure what to say, and instead watched the city lights blur through the window.

---

When the car pulled up in front of your apartment building, Peter stepped out quickly, coming around to open your door. You murmured a quiet “thank you” as you stepped out, feeling the weight of his presence beside you. He walked you to the building’s entrance, his movements effortlessly graceful as always.

“You didn’t have to walk me up,” you said softly, fumbling with your keys.

Peter raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his expression. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, isn’t it?”

You smiled faintly, unlocking the door and stepping inside with him close behind. The elevator ride was silent, though you caught him glancing at you once or twice. Your heart felt like it was lodged in your throat by the time you reached your floor.

When you reached your apartment door, you turned to face him, unsure how to say goodnight without sounding awkward. Peter beat you to it.

“Tonight was lovely,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “You were good company.”

“Thanks,” you said, heat rushing to your face. “You too.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Peter’s expression softened, his tone casual but warm. “You don’t have to feel obligated to say yes every time Olivia drags you along, you know. I’d hate to think you’re going to these things just because you feel like you should.”

Your chest tightened. Was he saying he thought you didn’t want to be here? That you’d only come because Olivia wasn’t around to take your place? You forced a polite smile, ignoring the strange twist in your stomach.

“I don’t mind,” you said lightly, hoping it sounded convincing. “It’s always nice to catch up.”

Peter smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Good. Then… goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight,” you replied softly, watching as he turned and walked back toward the elevator. You stood there for a moment, listening to the faint hum of the elevator descending before you finally stepped inside your apartment and leaned against the door.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, your thoughts spinning. Did you just get friendzoned? You shook your head, groaning under your breath. “Don’t overthink it,” you muttered to yourself, but the knot in your chest didn’t budge.

---

The next morning, Olivia burst into your apartment, barely waiting for you to open the door. “Well? How was it?” she asked, her grin wide as she plopped onto your couch.

You blinked, still holding your mug of coffee. “Uh, it was fine.”

“Fine?” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. “You went to the Philharmonic with Peter Lyman, and all you’ve got for me is ‘fine’? No way. Spill.”

You sighed, setting your mug on the table and sitting down across from her. “It was fine. He was polite, as always, and we had a nice time. But…” You hesitated, staring at your hands.

“But?” Olivia prompted, leaning forward eagerly.

“I think he sees me as, like, your friend who tags along to family stuff. He made some comment about not feeling obligated to go to these things, like I only went because you couldn’t.”

Olivia frowned. “What? That doesn’t sound like Peter.”

“Maybe not, but that’s how it came across,” you said, shrugging. “It’s fine. I didn’t expect anything else.”

She tilted her head, studying you. “You’re not seriously going to let one weird comment freak you out, are you?”

“I’m not freaking out,” you replied quickly, though the heat in your face said otherwise. “I just… I don’t want to make things awkward.”

“Y/N,” Olivia said, crossing her arms. “Peter’s not an idiot. If he said that, he probably didn’t mean it the way you’re taking it.”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“Thanks,” you muttered, but she just laughed.

“Don’t worry,” she said, standing up. “If I know Peter, he’ll figure it out eventually.” She paused, giving you a sly grin. “In the meantime, maybe try not to overthink it.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as she left the room.

---

A week later, you and Olivia had a movie night at your place, and old romcom she loved in the DVD player.

You had your legs tucked under you, barely focusing on the movie before gaining enough courage to face her. “Liv? Do you think… well—you, I got…”

She took her gaze away from the TV. “Hmm. Could be anything that’s got you stuttering like that.” She grabbed your hand, giving it a squeeze. “Okay. Spill.”

You took a deep breath, blurting out, “Joshua asked me on a date.”

Olivia sat up straighter, grabbing the remote and pausing the movie. “Joshua? Like Lord Beckett’s youngest son? That Joshua?”

You squirmed under her gaze. “Yeah. Apparently, he works as a journalist. He came over to the firm and was interviewing my boss.”

Olivia blinked, then leaned back with an exaggerated laugh. “Oh my God, that’s rich. Joshua Beckett, out of nowhere, asking you out?” She shook her head in disbelief. “How’d he even swing that?”

You frowned. “I mean, he was… nice? Polite? We just talked for a bit after his meeting, and then—bam—he asked.”

Olivia smirked. “Did you say yes?”

“Well, yeah. I didn’t want to be rude,” you admitted, your voice shrinking.

She threw a pillow at you. “What the hell, Y/N? This isn’t ‘polite conversation’ territory—it’s a date! You can’t just agree because you don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings.”

“I didn’t know how to say no!” you shot back, clutching the pillow to your chest. “He caught me off guard. And honestly, he seemed… fine?”

“Fine,” Olivia deadpanned. “High praise, as always.”

You sighed. “Look, it’s just one dinner. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Olivia squinted at you like she didn’t buy it for a second. “Right. And this has nothing to do with Peter, huh?”

Your stomach flipped, and you quickly avoided her gaze. “This has nothing to do with Peter.”

“Uh-huh,” Olivia said knowingly. “So, when’s this casual, meaningless dinner happening?”

“Friday,” you mumbled.

“Friday,” she repeated with a hum, then grinned slyly. “Guess who’s getting a phone call.”

You looked at her in alarm. “No! You’re not calling Peter!”

“Oh, I’m not?” she teased, already reaching for her phone.

“Liv, I swear—”

“Relax, I’m kidding!” she said with a laugh, setting her phone aside. “But seriously, Y/N… Joshua? You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

You groaned, flopping back against the couch. “I don’t know, okay? I panicked. It’s not like Peter’s lining up to ask me out, anyway.”

Olivia’s smirk softened into something more thoughtful. “Peter’s… complicated,” she said after a moment. “But you know he cares about you, right? I mean, he wouldn’t—”

You cut her off, shaking your head. “Let’s not do this. I can’t think about Peter and… whatever this is. Not when I’m already overthinking everything else.”

Olivia hesitated but eventually nodded. “Fine. But for the record, I don’t think you’re overthinking. I think you’re underthinking Peter.”

You groaned again, burying your face in the pillow. “Can we just finish the movie?”

“Sure,” she said, grabbing the remote. But as she pressed play, she muttered under her breath, “You’re totally underthinking it.”

---

Peter glanced at Olivia, who was reclining with a magazine in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, her legs crossed lazily. The faint echoes of splashing water and the quiet hum of conversation filled the air around the indoor pool.

“Perhaps you’d like to come to the garden party Father is throwing on Sunday,” Peter said, his voice casual as he stretched his arms.

Olivia glanced up briefly. “Sure, sounds nice. Is it the usual crowd?”

Peter nodded, stepping to the edge of the pool. “More or less. Family, some of Father’s associates. Nothing too overwhelming.” He paused, his tone shifting just slightly. “Will Y/N be coming?”

Olivia raised an eyebrow, setting down her tea. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ll ask her after her date tonight.”

Peter froze, mid-step, before lowering himself to sit at the pool’s edge. “Date?” His voice was calm, but the word lingered in the air.

“Yeah, with Joshua Beckett,” Olivia said nonchalantly, flipping a page in her magazine. “You know, Lord Beckett’s youngest. He ran into her at work and asked her out. She said yes.”

Peter’s expression didn’t falter, though his fingers tapped lightly against his knee. “Joshua Beckett,” he repeated, as though testing the name on his tongue.

“Mhm,” Olivia said, still focused on her magazine. “Journalist. Apparently, he’s charming. She didn’t seem overly excited, though.”

“Hmm.” Peter slipped into the pool gracefully, the water rippling around him. “Well, good for her. I hope it goes well.”

Olivia glanced at him over the edge of her magazine, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You sound thrilled.”

Peter’s lips twitched in a polite smile, though he avoided her gaze. “Just being supportive.”

Olivia snorted, setting her magazine aside and standing up. “Right. Well, I’m off to the spa. I need a massage after this long week. Don’t drown or anything.”

Peter waved a hand as he began a slow backstroke. “Enjoy your massage.”

“Thanks,” Olivia said breezily, heading for the door. “Oh, and I’ll let you know if Y/N decides to come on Sunday.”

Peter didn’t reply, his focus seemingly on the water, though his strokes became a little sharper, his movements a touch less fluid. When Olivia was gone, he exhaled slowly, staring up at the high ceiling.

“Joshua Beckett,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and contemplative, before diving underwater.

---

You and Olivia walked through the hedges into the garden area, where small tables were set up and people already mingling.

“Do you think they have those finger sandwiches I like?” you asked Olivia, scanning the tables set up around the garden. Your voice was quieter than usual, the low hum of polite chatter filling the air.

“I’m sure they do,” Olivia replied, smirking. “I mean, Peter’s father wouldn’t dare host a garden party without catering to your very specific sandwich preferences, right?”

You rolled your eyes, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “You’re hilarious.”

“Always,” she said, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder before her eyes drifted to the side. “Oh, speaking of Peter—there he is. He looks like he’s on host duty already.”

Before you could turn, Olivia raised a hand, waving him over.

Peter approached with his usual effortless confidence, a light smile on his face. His suit was perfectly tailored—charcoal gray, understated but sharp—and he moved with the ease of someone who had never once felt out of place in a crowd.

“Olivia,” he greeted warmly. “Y/N.” His gaze flicked to you, lingering just a second longer than necessary. “Glad you could both make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Olivia said, grinning. “I already saw the sandwiches, by the way. You’ve kept Y/N’s favorites. Excellent hosting.”

Peter chuckled softly. “Of course. Wouldn’t dream of disappointing.” He shifted slightly, his eyes scanning the immediate area. “Where’s she gone?”

Olivia blinked and glanced beside her, only to realize you were no longer there. “Wait, what? She was just—”

Peter raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Impressive. That might be the quickest escape yet.”

“She does that sometimes,” Olivia said, sighing dramatically. “It’s like she’s made of smoke or something. Well, I’m sure she hasn’t gone far. I’ll catch up with her in a bit.”

Peter gave a polite nod, though his gaze was already moving past her, scanning the clusters of guests. “No need. I’ll find her.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and disappeared into the garden’s maze of tables and guests.

---

You were standing by one of the smaller tables, a tiny plate in hand, already nibbling on a finger sandwich. You’d ducked out as soon as Peter walked over—not because you didn’t want to talk to him, but because it was always a little overwhelming when he was around. Somehow, he managed to be both incredibly easy to talk to and completely impossible to read at the same time.

The garden was peaceful, at least. You focused on the sounds of the birds and the clinking glasses, taking a moment to settle your nerves.

“Enjoying yourself?”

You jumped slightly at the sound of Peter’s voice, almost dropping your plate. He stood just a few steps away, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“I—uh—yes,” you stammered, quickly wiping your mouth with a napkin. “I was just…” You gestured vaguely to the table of food.

“Finding the sandwiches, I see,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” you admitted, glancing down at the one in your hand. “They’re really good.”

“I’m glad,” Peter replied, stepping closer. “I’ll have to thank the caterer for getting them just right. Though, knowing you, you probably would’ve just been polite if they weren’t.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his observation. “Well, I mean… it’s not like I’d complain.”

He chuckled, his gaze steady on you. “No, you wouldn’t. But I’m glad they’re up to your standards.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that felt heavy despite the lightness of the conversation. You fidgeted slightly, unsure what to say, until Peter spoke again.

“Did you enjoy your date?”

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, startled. “What?”

Peter stood much closer than before, his expression casual, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity. “Your date,” he said smoothly, as if it were the most natural topic in the world. “With Joshua Beckett. Olivia mentioned it.”

You ducked your head, suddenly finding your plate very interesting. “Oh, right. That. It was fine.”

“Fine,” Peter repeated, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Such high praise.”

You looked up, narrowing your eyes slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He tilted his head slightly, his tone light. “Nothing at all. Just… ‘fine’ doesn’t exactly scream thrilling success.”

“Well, it wasn’t a disaster,” you said defensively, clutching your plate tighter. “He was nice.”

“Nice,” Peter echoed, his tone amused. “That’s the second glowing endorsement.”

“Peter,” you sighed, finally meeting his gaze. “What are you getting at?”

He paused, studying you for a moment before responding. “I’m just curious. You don’t usually go out with people like Joshua.”

Your brow furrowed. “People like Joshua? What does that even mean?”

“Well,” he began, his voice as smooth as ever, “he’s the youngest son of a very ambitious family. Polished, charming, likely quite used to getting what he wants.”

“So… people like you,” you countered without thinking, then froze, immediately regretting it. “I mean—uh, not that you—just that—”

Peter laughed softly, the sound low and rich. “Touché.”

You pressed your lips together, looking down at your sandwich. “For the record, he didn’t get what he wanted.”

His brows lifted in mild surprise. “Oh?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I told him I wasn’t interested in a second date.”

There was a pause, and when you glanced up, Peter’s expression was unreadable. “I see.”

Before you could decipher his tone, he straightened, glancing past you. “Excuse me a moment,” Peter said, his tone as smooth as ever. He stepped around you, heading toward the two new people with an effortless grace.

You turned, following his line of sight. A young woman with straight blonde hair and wiry glasses stood by the tables with an older man wearing a copper blazer.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his attention. Before you could process it, Olivia appeared at your side, holding a glass of sparkling water.

“Who’s he off to save now?” she asked, smirking as she handed you the glass.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, nodding toward the two strangers. “They just walked in, and he left to meet them.”

Olivia squinted in their direction, taking a sip of her drink. “Hmm. They don’t look like the usual crowd. Maybe business?”

“Could be,” you murmured, watching as Peter shook hands with the older man before gesturing toward the house.

“Should we ask?” Olivia teased, nudging your arm.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “It’s probably something private. Let’s just stay out of it.”

Olivia grinned knowingly. “Right, because that’s exactly what we’re doing by standing here and staring.”

You sighed, looking away from the scene. “I’m just curious, okay? It’s not like I’m going to eavesdrop.”

“Sure,” Olivia said, clearly unconvinced.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Peter lead the two guests toward the house. His hand rested lightly on the small of the blonde woman’s back as they disappeared into the crowd. You tried not to let it bother you, but Olivia didn’t miss the way your grip on your glass tightened.

“Who’s jealous now?” she muttered under her breath.

“I’m not jealous,” you replied quickly, though your tone betrayed you.

“Uh-huh,” Olivia said, smirking. “Well, if you’re not going to ask, I will.”

Before you could stop her, she turned and started following the trio.

“Olivia, wait—” you called after her, but she waved a hand dismissively over her shoulder.

---

A few minutes later, Olivia reappeared, her expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. She found you lingering near the garden’s edge, nervously sipping your drink.

“So, I have news,” she announced, leaning against a tree.

“Olivia,” you groaned. “What did you do?”

“Relax,” Olivia said with a grin, casually tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I just asked Peter who they were. Turns out, the blonde is Jade Spence—some aspiring actress from Palm Beach—and her father, Mr. Spence. They’re staying with the Fultons.”

You blinked, trying not to let your curiosity show too much. “The Fultons? As in… the Fultons?”

Olivia nodded, her smirk growing. “Yup. And Peter’s apparently been playing tour guide or something. He mentioned meeting her a few days ago.”

You frowned slightly, glancing toward the house where Peter had disappeared with Jade and Mr. Spence. “Tour guide?”

Olivia shrugged, swirling the water in her glass. “Or lifeguard, maybe. He said something about saving her from drowning in the pool.”

Your head whipped around. “What?”

“I know, right? So dramatic,” Olivia said with a laugh. “Apparently, it was this whole thing. She was swimming alone, started panicking, and Peter swooped in like the hero he is.”

You looked down, fiddling with the edge of your plate. “Well, that’s… nice of him.”

“Uh-huh,” Olivia said, giving you a pointed look. “And now he’s escorting her around garden parties. Very hands-on for a guy who’s usually so… you know. Detached.”

Your stomach churned uncomfortably, but you forced a nonchalant tone. “Maybe he’s just being polite. She’s staying with the Fultons, after all.”

“Polite?” Olivia echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Y/N, Peter doesn’t do polite for strangers. He’s always charming, but this is different. He’s… interested.”

You felt your chest tighten, but you quickly shook your head. “It’s probably nothing. She’s just visiting, and he’s being a good host.”

Olivia studied you for a moment, her smirk fading. “You know, you’re allowed to be annoyed.”

“I’m not annoyed,” you said quickly, but your voice wavered just enough for Olivia to catch it.

“Right,” she said, crossing her arms. “Because you’re totally fine with Peter playing Prince Charming for a random blonde from Florida.”

You frowned. “What do you want me to say, Olivia? It’s not like Peter and I—” You cut yourself off, your cheeks burning.

Olivia leaned in, her voice low but teasing. “Not like you what? C’mon, Y/N, finish that sentence.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Forget it.”

“Nope, not forgetting it,” Olivia said, pulling your hands away. “Listen, I’m not saying you need to storm the house and stake a claim or whatever. But if Peter’s trying to make you jealous, it’s working.”

You blinked at her. “You think he’s doing this on purpose?”

"Could be. I mean, Peter’s smart. He knows what he’s doing," Olivia said with a shrug, her eyes glinting mischievously.

You snorted, shaking your head. "That’s ridiculous. Why would he try to make me jealous? He doesn’t even like me like that."

Olivia tilted her head, giving you an exasperated look. "You seriously believe that?"

"Yes," you said firmly, though your voice wavered slightly. "Peter’s always been polite, maybe a little flirty, but that’s just how he is with everyone. He doesn’t—" You stopped yourself, suddenly self-conscious.

"He doesn’t what?" Olivia pressed, leaning closer with that knowing smirk.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. "He doesn’t see me that way, okay? I’m just… his cousin’s friend. The tagalong at family stuff. That’s it."

Olivia’s smirk dropped, replaced by something softer. "Y/N, you’re seriously blind if you don’t think he’s at least interested."

You bit your lip, fidgeting with your drink. "It doesn’t matter. Even if he were—which he’s not—he’s clearly more interested in Jade right now."

Olivia snorted. "Jade Spence? Are you kidding? That’s just Peter being Peter. I bet he swooped in to ‘save’ her and now feels obligated to play the perfect host."

"Or maybe he actually likes her," you muttered, barely audible.

Olivia stared at you for a beat before sighing dramatically. "You’re exhausting, you know that? The guy practically lights up every time you’re in the room, and you’re over here acting like he’s planning a wedding with some random actress from Florida."

You opened your mouth to respond, but Olivia cut you off, pointing her finger at you. "Nope. Don’t even argue. If you’re too stubborn to see it, fine. But mark my words, Y/N—he’s not into Jade. He’s into you."

"That’s insane," you said quickly, brushing past her toward the refreshments table. "You’re reading way too much into this."

"Am I?" Olivia called after you, clearly enjoying herself. "Guess we’ll see."

---

Later that day when you got back to your apartment, you walked over to the rotary phone and dialed the number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Joshua. I know I said I wasn’t interested in a second date, but—well, if you were, not that you have to…”

You cringed, gripping the phone cord tightly as silence filled the line. Then, Joshua’s warm voice came through, as composed as ever.

“Y/N, hi. I wasn’t expecting this, but… I’d love to. If you’re sure?”

You glanced at the clock on the wall, your stomach twisting with nerves. “Yeah, I mean… I thought maybe I judged too quickly last time. You’re really nice, and it wasn’t fair to just—”

“Don’t overthink it,” Joshua interrupted gently. “How about Friday? Dinner at that Italian place by the park?”

“Sure,” you replied quickly, your voice higher-pitched than usual. “Friday sounds good.”

“Great,” he said, his tone genuinely warm. “I’ll call to confirm. I’m glad you changed your mind, Y/N.”

You hung up, staring at the phone for a moment before groaning. “What am I doing?”

---

By the time Friday rolled around, Olivia had found out about the second date, of course.

“I can’t believe you called him,” she said, draped across your bed as you picked through your closet. “It’s like you’re trying to drive yourself crazy.”

“I didn’t call him to drive myself crazy,” you shot back, holding up a simple black dress. “I called because—”

“Because you were spiraling after seeing Peter with Jade Spence,” Olivia finished smugly.

You turned toward her with a glare. “That’s not why.”

“Right,” she said, sitting up and smirking. “So why is it, then?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Maybe I just don’t want to waste a chance with someone who’s nice to me.”

Olivia snorted. “Nice? Joshua Beckett is nice? That’s the bar now?”

You sighed, tossing the dress on the bed. “He’s not just nice. He’s smart, and he listens, and—”

“And he’s not Peter,” Olivia interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“Liv,” you groaned.

“Okay, okay,” she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “Wear the black dress. He’ll like it. Or whatever.”

---

While you went on your date with Joshua, Olivia went to the party Peter was hosting at his place. When she entered, Peter looked at the door and grabbed two glasses of champagne. “Ah, Olivia.” They kissed each other’s cheeks as a greeting. The door closed behind her causing Peter to glance over at the now shut door. “Where is Y/N? She’s not sick again, is she?”

Olivia shrugged off her coat handing it to the waiter with a thanks. “Oh, no. She’s on a date with Joshua.” She grabbed both glasses from Peter’s hands, one clearly meant for you.

Peter’s expression didn’t change immediately, but his fingers tightened into a momentary fist. “Joshua,” he said slowly, his tone neutral. “I see.”

Olivia sipped from one of the glasses she’d swiped, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “Yup. Second date. She called him, actually. Kind of a bold move for Y/N, don’t you think?”

“Very bold,” Peter replied, his voice calm but clipped. “I thought she wasn’t interested.”

Olivia shrugged, her lips curling into a sly smile. “She changed her mind. Or maybe someone made her change her mind.”

Peter’s gaze flicked toward her, sharp as glass. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Olivia said innocently, taking another sip. “Just that she seemed a little… distracted after your garden party. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Of course not,” Peter said smoothly, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “I didn’t realize I had such influence over her decision-making.”

Olivia tilted her head, studying him. “You know, for someone who’s supposedly indifferent, you seem awfully interested in her dating life.”

Peter’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. “She’s your friend. Naturally, I’m curious.”

“Right,” Olivia drawled, clearly enjoying herself. “Well, if you’re so curious, maybe you should ask her about it. Or better yet, tell her why it bothers you so much.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Peter said, his tone cool. “She’s free to make her own choices.”

“Uh-huh,” Olivia replied, giving him a knowing look. “So, you’re totally fine with her going out with a guy like Joshua Beckett? Polished, ambitious, very… not you?”

Peter’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “What an interesting way to phrase it.”

“Just calling it like I see it,” Olivia said lightly. She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “You know, Peter, you could just admit you like her. Might save everyone a lot of time.”

Peter didn’t answer immediately, his gaze drifting toward the door. “I think I’ll fetch another drink,” he said finally. “Excuse me.”

“Running away?” Olivia teased, but Peter was already walking off, his steps measured and deliberate.

---

“He was actually quite nice. And he likes math and sci-fi movies,” you said, plopping down onto Olivia’s couch.

Olivia leaned against the armrest, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Math and sci-fi movies? Be still my heart. Did he also show you his extensive collection of pocket protectors?”

You frowned, tossing a throw pillow at her. “I’m serious! He’s smart, and… I don’t know, easy to talk to.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, dodging the pillow effortlessly. “And yet, here you are, talking to me about him like he’s your neighbor’s golden retriever. You’re trying too hard to sell it, Y/N.”

“I’m not trying to sell anything,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “It was a nice date. That’s it.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Did you agree to another one?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “He asked. I said I’d think about it.”

“There it is,” Olivia said, sitting up straight. “You’re not even sure, are you?”

“It’s not like that,” you protested weakly.

“It’s exactly like that,” she shot back. “You’re trying to convince yourself he’s interesting because—oh, let me guess—Peter has you in knots.”

You sighed heavily, rubbing your temples. “Why does everything always come back to Peter with you?”

“Because you get weird whenever he’s involved!” Olivia said, throwing her hands up. “Seriously, you were fine until Jade Spence showed up with her Barbie vibes, and now you’re spiraling.”

“I am not spiraling,” you said firmly.

“Oh, please,” Olivia scoffed. “You practically ran to Joshua the second you saw Peter being nice to her. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

You glared at her. “Maybe I just wanted to see if there was something there with Joshua.”

“And?” she challenged.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “…And I don’t know.”

Olivia sighed, leaning back into the couch cushions. “Y/N, listen to me. You can go on a hundred dates with guys like Joshua, but it’s not going to change how you feel about Peter.”

“I don’t—”

“Don’t even try,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “You do. And it’s painfully obvious to anyone with eyes. So, instead of wasting your time on Mr. Math Enthusiast, maybe you should figure out what’s actually going on with Peter.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the sound of the doorbell ringing cut you off. You looked at Olivia who looked at you.

“What are you doing? Go answer it.” Olivia said.

“What—but this is your apartment!” You argued.

Olivia pushed your side, “go on!”

You stood up and made it past her before turning around. “Peter’s not at the door is he?” She shrugged, not responding. “Olivia! You—”

The doorbell rang again, pulling you out of your thoughts. Olivia waved her hand toward the door, not bothering to look away from the TV. “Go already! It’s not going to answer itself.”

Muttering under your breath, you shuffled toward the door, half-wondering why Olivia wasn’t doing this herself. You swung it open, and there he was—standing impeccably dressed in a casual button-up and dark slacks, as if he’d stepped straight out of a magazine.

“Peter?” you blurted, gripping the doorknob a little tighter than necessary. “What are you doing here?”

He offered you a polite smile, holding up a small clutch. “Olivia left this behind at the party. I thought I’d return it before it got lost in the shuffle.”

You blinked, glancing at the bag in his hand. “Oh. Right. Well, thanks for bringing it by.”

“Of course.” His voice was smooth as always, but his eyes flicked past you into the apartment. “Is Olivia in?”

“Yeah, she’s—”

“Watching TV!” Olivia called from the couch. “Bring it here, Peter. And while you’re at it, grab me a soda, would you?”

You shot her a glare over your shoulder, but Peter chuckled softly. “Should I let myself in, or…?”

“Oh, come in,” Olivia said loudly. “Y/N doesn’t bite.”

Peter stepped past you with an easy smile, and you resisted the urge to retreat to the kitchen. Instead, you followed him into the living room, your stomach doing a weird little flip as he handed Olivia the clutch.

“Your soda,” he said with a smirk, “you’ll have to get yourself.”

“Ugh, useless,” Olivia teased, but she took the bag with a grin. “Thanks, though. I’d have never remembered it.”

Peter turned back to you, his expression unreadable. “So, Y/N. How was dinner with Joshua?”

Your cheeks burned immediately. “Oh, um, it was… fine.”

“Fine,” he repeated, the faintest hint of amusement in his tone. “You use that word a lot.”

“Well, it’s a good word,” you muttered, crossing your arms.

Peter didn’t look away, his gaze steady. “I take it things went well, then?”

Before you could answer, Olivia snorted. “She’s not seeing him again, if that’s what you’re fishing for.”

“Olivia!” you hissed, glaring at her.

“What?” she said, feigning innocence. “I’m just saving time.”

Peter’s brow lifted slightly, though his expression remained calm. “Not seeing him again?” he asked, directing the question to you. “That’s surprising. He seemed like a… suitable match.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Peter tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Only that he seemed like someone who’d check all the right boxes.”

“Well, maybe I’m not interested in someone who just checks boxes,” you said before you could stop yourself.

Peter’s smile deepened, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Interesting.”

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken things, until Olivia cleared her throat dramatically. “Well, this is fun, but if no one’s grabbing me a soda, I’ll do it myself.”

She hopped off the couch, leaving you alone with Peter. You shifted awkwardly, clutching your arms. “So… thanks for bringing her bag by.”

“It was no trouble,” Peter said, his voice gentler now. “I could’ve had it sent over, but I thought it’d be nice to see you both.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Right. Well… it’s good to see you too.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping just slightly. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Your eyes widened. “What? I haven’t—”

“You disappeared at the garden party,” he interrupted, his tone calm but firm. “And you weren’t at my party yesterday.”

You looked down, heat creeping up your neck. “I wasn’t avoiding you. I just… had other things going on.”

“Like Joshua?” he asked, his voice sharp enough to make you flinch.

You glanced up, meeting his gaze. “Why does it matter?”

He held your gaze, his expression softening. “Maybe it doesn’t.”

The sound of the fridge door slamming broke the moment, and Olivia reappeared with a soda in hand. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you said quickly, stepping back. “Peter was just leaving.”

Peter’s lips twitched into a small smile, but he didn’t argue. “I should be going. Thank you, Olivia.”

“Anytime,” she replied, smirking. “Bye, Peter.”

He turned to you one last time, his eyes lingering for a moment. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight,” you whispered, watching as he left.

Once the door shut, Olivia let out a low whistle. “Well, that was something.”

“Don’t,” you warned, already heading for the kitchen.

“I didn’t say anything!” Olivia called after you, her voice full of laughter. “But seriously, Y/N, you might want to think about what you’re doing.”

You groaned, opening the fridge. “What I’m doing is making tea.”

“Sure,” Olivia said lightly. “Because tea will totally solve your Peter problem.”

You slammed the fridge door shut, wishing it were that simple.

---

Joshua invited you over to a philharmonic concert. He had brought it up while he had taken you out for lunch during your break.

You accepted and now were walking through the elegant, familiar foyer of the concert hall, arm in arm with Joshua. The polished marble floors reflected the soft glow of the chandeliers, and the hum of polite conversation filled the air.

Joshua glanced at you, his smile easy. “You’ve been here before, haven’t you? You seem comfortable.”

“Once or twice,” you replied, trying not to think about the last time. With Peter.

“Ah, of course,” Joshua said lightly. “It’s one of my favorite venues. The acoustics are exceptional.”

As he spoke, your eyes caught a familiar figure just across the room. Peter. He was standing near the staircase, chatting with Jade Spence, who laughed at something he said, her hand briefly touching his arm.

You stiffened, and Joshua followed your gaze. His brow lifted slightly. “Peter Lyman. What a surprise. Didn’t expect to see him here tonight.”

Your voice was tight. “He enjoys the Philharmonic.”

Joshua chuckled softly. “Don’t we all? Come on, let’s say hello.”

“Wait—” you started, but Joshua was already steering you toward them.

Peter noticed you first. His eyes flickered from Joshua to you, his expression unreadable, though there was a subtle shift in his posture. Jade turned as well, her bright smile widening when she saw Joshua.

“Joshua Beckett,” Peter greeted smoothly, his voice carrying that effortless charm. “Good to see you.”

“Peter,” Joshua replied, shaking his hand. “And Jade Spence, of course. I heard you were in town.”

Jade’s laugh was nervous. “Uh—yes, with my father.” Her gaze shifted to you, her smile polite but curious. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” you said softly, glancing at Peter briefly. His gaze was steady, focused, and unsettlingly intense.

“Ah, yes,” Jade said, her tone light. “I think Peter mentioned you.”

Your stomach flipped at that, but Joshua cut in before you could dwell on it. “Y/N is a dear friend. We’re enjoying the evening together.”

Peter’s jaw tightened, though his smile didn’t falter. “How lovely. I’m sure you’ll both enjoy the program tonight. It’s one of my favorites.”

“You’ve got great taste, as always,” Joshua replied smoothly, before glancing at his watch. “We should find our seats, Y/N. Don’t want to miss the overture.”

“Of course,” you said quickly, eager to leave the tension hanging in the air.

“Enjoy the performance,” Peter said, his eyes lingering on you as Joshua led you away. You didn’t dare look back.

---

Your seats were directly in front of Peter and Jade. As the orchestra began, you focused on the stage, but you could feel Peter’s gaze like a weight on your back. Joshua leaned closer to point out something about the composer, his voice low and warm, but you barely heard him.

Peter, meanwhile, wasn’t paying attention to the orchestra at all. His eyes never left you, the flicker of a frown crossing his face whenever Joshua leaned in or made you smile.

Jade noticed. She shifted slightly in her seat, her voice a soft whisper. “Peter, you’re not even looking at the stage.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still locked on you. Finally, he leaned back, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Just admiring the company,” he said smoothly.

Jade glanced at you and Joshua, then back at Peter. Her brow arched, but she said nothing, returning her attention to the performance.

---

At intermission, you stayed in your seat, flipping through the concert program and trying to focus on the upcoming pieces. Joshua had gone to grab drinks, leaving you alone in the steadily emptying hall. The chatter of other patrons filled the space, but you tuned it out.

The soft creak of the seat next to you folding down made you glance up. Peter.

He sat with effortless ease, one leg crossed over the other, his hands resting on the arms of the chair. “You always were the studious type, weren’t you?” His voice was smooth, teasing but gentle.

You blinked, glancing between him and the program in your hands. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s intermission,” he replied simply, his gaze steady. “Thought I’d say hello. Is that a problem?”

“No,” you said quickly, shifting slightly in your seat. “It’s just… unexpected.”

Peter smirked faintly. “I’ve been told I’m full of surprises.” He leaned back slightly, his tone casual. “You know, this concert reminds me of when Olivia insisted you both take violin lessons. What were you—ten? Eleven?”

You stared at him, caught off guard by the memory. “I was ten. Olivia was eleven.”

He nodded, his smile growing. “Right. And she quit after one session, didn’t she? Said something about the teacher being ‘a tyrant in a cardigan.’”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “She hated it. And she convinced her parents it was pointless for both of us to continue, even though I wanted to keep going.”

Peter’s eyes softened. “I remember. You were disappointed for weeks.”

You glanced down at the program, your voice quieter now. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I noticed,” Peter said, his tone gentler. “You have this way of hiding how you feel, but it’s always there if you know where to look.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could respond, Peter glanced toward the aisle. “Here comes your date.”

You followed his gaze and spotted Joshua making his way back, carrying two glasses of wine. Peter stood smoothly, his polite smile firmly back in place.

“Enjoy the rest of the concert,” he said, his tone light as he stepped aside to let Joshua pass.

Joshua handed you one of the glasses, glancing at Peter as he moved back toward his own seat. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, taking a sip of your wine. “He was just saying hello.”

Joshua nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “You and Peter are close, aren’t you?”

You hesitated. “I guess. We’ve known each other a long time.”

“Hmm,” Joshua murmured, his gaze flicking briefly toward Peter and Jade, who were chatting again near the back of the hall. “He seems… invested.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, your voice defensive.

Joshua shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. “Just an observation.”

The bell chimed, signaling the end of intermission. You followed Joshua back to your seats, settling in as the lights dimmed.

As the orchestra began, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. You didn’t dare glance back, but you could feel Peter’s gaze like a tangible weight.

Joshua leaned closer, pointing out something in the performance. You nodded along, but your focus was elsewhere.

Behind you, Peter sat beside Jade, his expression unreadable as his eyes lingered on you. Jade noticed, her voice barely a whisper. “Peter, you’re missing the performance.”

“I’m not,” he murmured, though his gaze remained fixed on you.

Jade sighed softly but didn’t press further, turning her attention back to the stage.

You, meanwhile, tried to ignore the tension coiling in your chest, the strange awareness that had followed you since intermission.

The music swelled, filling the hall, but all you could think about was the man sitting just a few rows behind you.

---

“He what?” Olivia shrieked. “Oh, man. He’s relentless.”

“What do you mean ‘relentless?’” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against Olivia’s kitchen counter. “He’s the one who’s dating Jade in the first place.”

Olivia froze mid-sip of her tea, her eyebrows shooting up. Slowly, she set the mug down and turned to face you fully, her lips curling into a sly grin. “Ohhh, so now you admit it.”

“Admit what?” you asked, avoiding her gaze.

“That you care,” Olivia said, smirking. “Because last I checked, you were all ‘Peter’s not into me,’ and ‘Jade Spence is just a guest,’ blah, blah, blah.”

You scoffed, pushing off the counter. “That’s not what this is about. I just think it’s ridiculous you’re calling him relentless when he’s clearly moved on.”

Olivia gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “Moved on? From what, exactly? Because to move on, you’d have to have been on something in the first place. And as far as I know, nothing’s ever happened between you two.”

“Exactly,” you said quickly, throwing your hands up. “So what’s the point?”

“The point,” Olivia said, stepping closer and poking your shoulder, “is that you’re jealous.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks were starting to burn. “I’m not jealous.”

“Really?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Because you literally just said, ‘he’s the one who’s dating Jade in the first place.’ That’s got ‘green-eyed monster’ written all over it.”

“That’s not—” you started, but Olivia cut you off.

“Y/N, come on,” she said, her tone softer now. “You’ve been acting weird ever since Jade showed up. You’re suddenly going out with Joshua, of all people, and now you’re watching Peter like a hawk every time he’s in the same room.”

“I’m not—” you tried again, but Olivia just kept going.

“And don’t even get me started on the way you probably looked at him during the concert,” she said, crossing her arms. “You might as well have had a flashing sign over your head that said, ‘I wish I was sitting next to him.’”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “You’re reading way too much into this.”

“Am I?” Olivia said, leaning closer. “Because from where I’m standing, it’s pretty obvious. You like Peter. And whether you want to admit it or not, him hanging out with Jade is driving you nuts.”

You didn’t respond right away, staring at the floor as Olivia’s words sank in. Finally, you muttered, “It doesn’t matter. He’s with her. End of story.”

“Y/N,” Olivia said, exasperated. “You don’t get it, do you? He’s not with her. He’s using her.”

Your head snapped up, your eyes narrowing. “That’s a terrible thing to say. Peter’s not like that.”

“Oh, please,” Olivia said, rolling her eyes. “Peter’s a lot of things, but subtle isn’t one of them. He’s parading Jade around because he’s trying to get a reaction out of you.”

“That’s insane,” you said, shaking your head. “Why would he—”

“Because he likes you, you idiot!” Olivia practically shouted, throwing her hands up. “And he doesn’t know how to deal with it because you’ve been so busy convincing yourself he doesn’t!”

You stared at her, stunned into silence. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.

Finally, you found your voice. “If that’s true,” you said quietly, “then why hasn’t he said anything?”

Olivia sighed, her expression softening. “Because he’s Peter. He’s not going to lay it all out there unless he’s sure it’s what you want too.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. Deep down, a small part of you wondered if Olivia was right—if Peter’s actions, his lingering looks, and his sudden attention to Jade were all because of you. But another part of you was too afraid to believe it.

“Well?” Olivia said, raising an eyebrow. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Olivia smirked, leaning back against the counter. “Well, you’d better figure it out. Because if you don’t, someone else is going to make the first move. And I don’t think you’ll like how that turns out.”

You swallowed hard, her words echoing in your mind as you stared out the window, unsure of what your next step should be.

---

The party at Baron Edward’s estate was in full swing, and you found yourself clinging to the edge of the crowd, sipping something sparkling and pretending to look interested in the artwork on the walls. Joshua was mingling effortlessly, charming guests with his smooth conversation and quick wit. Olivia had disappeared somewhere, likely causing her usual brand of chaos.

Across the room, Peter was standing near Jade, the two of them engaged in polite conversation with a small group. He looked as polished as ever, his tailored suit sharp against the warm glow of the chandeliers. You noticed his hand resting lightly on the back of Jade’s chair, and for reasons you didn’t want to unpack, it sent a pang through your chest.

Joshua reappeared at your side, offering you a warm smile. "What do you say, Y/N? Care to join me for a dance?"

You felt your cheeks heat up instantly, your fingers tightening on the glass of champagne you’d been nursing for the past half hour. "Oh, um… I don’t really think I’m—"

He gave you an easy smile, his hand already half-extended. "You’ll be fine. I promise not to step on your toes."

You shook your head quickly, the thought of dozens of pairs of eyes on you making your chest tighten. "I think I’ll sit this one out. Sorry."

Joshua tilted his head slightly, studying you for a moment before nodding. "No need to apologize. Maybe next time." He glanced around and spotted Olivia chatting with a group near the drinks table. "Mind if I steal your friend, then?"

"Not at all," you said quickly, grateful he didn’t press the issue.

Joshua smiled, gave you a small nod, and headed off toward Olivia, who didn’t hesitate to accept his offer. You watched as they made their way to the dance floor, Olivia laughing at something Joshua said as he spun her gracefully into the music.

"You could’ve at least warned him you were a terrible dancer."

The low, familiar voice sent a shiver down your spine. You turned to find Peter standing beside you, one hand tucked casually in the pocket of his perfectly tailored suit. His gaze was sharp but amused, his lips curved in a faint smile.

"I didn’t think it was necessary," you muttered, looking down at your glass.

Peter tilted his head, his tone light. "And here I thought you were just trying to keep him from getting too attached."

Your head shot up, your eyes narrowing. "That’s not—"

He chuckled softly, cutting you off. "Relax, Y/N. I’m joking. Though I have to say, I’m a little surprised. You used to love dancing when we were younger."

You frowned, crossing your arms. "That was different. We were kids, and no one was paying attention back then."

Peter’s smile deepened, his gaze unwavering. "And now?"

"Now," you said quickly, "it’s just… not my thing."

"Hmm," he mused, his tone carrying that infuriating mix of charm and challenge. "I don’t believe you."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to mask your growing discomfort. "Well, you don’t have to."

Peter didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he extended a hand toward you, his eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. "Dance with me."

"What?" you blurted, your heart skipping a beat.

"You heard me," he said, his voice steady. "Dance with me. Just one song."

"I—I can’t," you stammered, glancing around nervously. "Not here."

Peter’s smile shifted, softer now but no less insistent. Without waiting for an answer, he took your glass from your hand, setting it down on a nearby table, and offered his arm. "Then let’s find somewhere quieter."

You hesitated, glancing toward the dance floor where Olivia and Joshua were spinning effortlessly among the other couples. "Peter, I don’t think—"

"Trust me," he interrupted gently.

Before you could protest, he guided you out of the main ballroom and into a dimly lit hallway just off to the side. The music followed faintly, softer now, the sounds of laughter and conversation fading into the background.

Peter stopped near a small alcove, his hand still lightly resting on your arm. "Better?"

You nodded, though your heart was still racing. "A little."

"Good," he said, stepping closer. He took your hand in his, his touch warm and steady. "Now, let’s try this again."

"Peter, I’m going to embarrass myself," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"You won’t," he said firmly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "It’s just us, Y/N. No one’s watching."

You hesitated, but the way he looked at you—patient, encouraging, and far too confident—made it impossible to say no.

"Okay," you murmured, your voice so soft you weren’t sure he even heard you.

Peter smiled, a genuine one this time, and placed your other hand lightly on his shoulder. His hand settled on your waist, the touch sending a strange flutter through your chest.

"See?" he said, his voice low as he guided you into a slow, swaying rhythm. "Nothing to it."

"I feel ridiculous," you admitted, glancing at your feet to make sure you weren’t stepping on him.

"Don’t," Peter said softly. "You’re doing fine."

You glanced up at him, his face closer than you’d realized. His expression was calm, but his eyes… there was something in them you couldn’t quite name.

The faint strains of the orchestra drifted through the hallway, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away.

"You’re not bad at this," Peter said after a while, his tone teasing.

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile crept onto your lips. "You’re a very biased judge."

"Maybe," he admitted, his lips twitching into a smirk. "But I’m right, aren’t I?"

You didn’t answer, your gaze dropping to his collar instead. His tie was slightly loosened, just enough to make him look effortlessly disheveled in a way that only Peter could manage.

"Y/N," he said softly, drawing your attention back to his face. His smile had faded, replaced by something quieter, more serious.

"Yes?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. "Why do you let him distract you?"

"Who?" you asked, confused.

"Joshua," Peter said simply, his tone calm but pointed. "You’re not interested in him."

You froze, your cheeks burning. "That’s not—"

"You don’t have to explain," he interrupted, his voice low. "I just… I don’t understand why you’re pretending."

Your chest tightened, his words cutting far closer to the truth than you wanted to admit. "I’m not pretending."

Peter’s eyes searched yours, his expression softening. "You don’t have to, Y/N. Not with me."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the distant sound of the music filling the silence.

"I…" you started, but the words wouldn’t come.

Peter leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Think about it, Y/N. That’s all I’m asking."

You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as his words settled in the air between you. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the moment was gone.

Peter stepped back, his hand slipping from your waist. "Thank you for the dance."

You nodded mutely, watching as he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading down the hall.

Your heart was still racing, and as the music swelled again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that everything had just changed.

---

A few days after the party you were laying on Olivia’s couch, a box of tissues in your lap and a cool rag on your forehead.

“Oh, sweetie.” Olivia cooed, taking the rag away from you.

“’M not a baby,” you muttered, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself as Olivia dabbed your forehead with the cool rag.

“I know,” she teased, sitting back on the edge of the coffee table. “But you’re my favorite patient, so deal with it.” You gave her a weak glare, which she met with a smirk. “Honestly, Y/N, you’re lucky I love you. I’ve got work in a bit, and instead of doing literally anything else, I’m here playing Florence Nightingale.”

“Don’t let me keep you,” you replied, your voice hoarse. “I’ll leave when you do. I’ll get a cab back to my place.”

Olivia frowned, crossing her arms. “You’re really going to haul yourself into a cab like this? You can just stay here.”

You shook your head, coughing lightly into a tissue. “I’ll be fine. I don’t want to be in your way.”

“Like you could ever be in my way,” Olivia scoffed, standing and smoothing her blouse. “Alright, if you insist on being stubborn, I’ll drop you at the cab stand on my way out.”

She disappeared down the hall to finish getting ready, and you closed your eyes, trying to focus on the sound of the TV in the background instead of the pounding in your head.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. You heard Olivia’s muffled footsteps and then the sound of the door opening.

“Oh, Peter,” Olivia said, her voice laced with mild surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Peter replied smoothly. “Thought I’d check in.”

“Well, I’m heading to work in a minute,” Olivia said, her voice casual. “But Y/N’s in the living room. She’s not feeling great, though, so don’t expect sparkling conversation.”

There was a pause, and then you heard Peter’s footsteps approaching. You opened your eyes just as he entered the room, his expression softening when he saw you curled up on the couch.

“You look dreadful,” he said, his tone gentle but teasing.

“Thanks,” you croaked, giving him a weak smile.

He chuckled, crouching down so you were eye level. “What’s the plan? Olivia mentioned a cab.”

You nodded. “When she leaves, I’ll call one and head home.”

Peter frowned slightly, standing and crossing his arms. “No, you won’t.”

“Excuse me?” you said, sitting up a little.

“You’re not well,” he said firmly. “I’ll take you home.”

“Peter, that’s not necessary—”

“It is,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t trust you to actually rest if you’re left to your own devices. Come on, let’s get you sorted.”

Olivia reappeared, shrugging into her coat and raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“Change of plans,” Peter said, offering you a hand. “I’m taking her home.”

You hesitated, glancing between them, but Olivia grinned. “Well, aren’t you sweet? Take good care of her, Peter. She’s a nightmare when she’s sick.”

“Noted,” Peter replied, helping you stand. “Let’s go, Y/N.”

---

The drive to your apartment was quiet. You leaned against the cool window, trying to ignore how warm your cheeks felt—not just from the fever, but from Peter’s presence.

When you reached your building, Peter insisted on helping you out of the car and up the stairs, his hand resting lightly on your back as you walked.

“You really don’t have to—”

“Y/N,” he said, cutting you off as he opened your apartment door with the spare key Olivia had borrowed and returned. “Let me help. You’re not going to convince me otherwise.”

Once inside, he guided you to the couch, setting your blanket over you and grabbing a pillow to tuck behind your head.

“Comfy?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded, already feeling more at ease. “Thank you.”

Peter smiled faintly. “Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t even started making tea.”

“You’re staying?” you asked, your eyes widening slightly.

“Of course,” he said lightly, already heading toward the kitchen. “Someone has to make sure you don’t keel over.”

“Peter, I can take care of myself,” you called after him, though the argument sounded weak even to your own ears.

“I’m sure you can,” he replied, his voice teasing. “But humor me.”

You sighed, leaning back into the cushions. As much as you hated to admit it, having him there was… comforting.

“Do you even know where I keep the tea?” you called, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“I’m resourceful,” he shot back, and you could hear the sound of cabinets opening and closing.

Shaking your head, you closed your eyes, letting the quiet sounds of him moving around your kitchen fill the air.

Peter returned from the kitchen a few minutes later, carrying a mug of tea. He crouched beside the couch, offering it to you with a soft smile. “Here. Drink this.”

You blinked at him, your fingers curling around the warm mug. “You really didn’t have to.”

He leaned an arm on the edge of the couch, his face a bit closer now. “I know. But I wanted to.”

You swallowed, unsure how to respond, so you took a small sip of the tea instead. The warmth spread through your chest, soothing in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Good?” he asked, watching you intently.

You nodded, your voice soft. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He smiled, his eyes flickering to your hair. Without saying anything, he reached up, brushing a stray strand away from your face. The motion was so casual, yet it sent a flutter through your chest.

“You’re burning up,” Peter said quietly, his hand lingering near your cheek before he pressed it lightly against your forehead. “When’s the last time you took anything for the fever?”

You squirmed under his touch, your cheeks growing warmer—not from the fever, you were sure. “Uh… this morning, I think?”

Peter frowned slightly, standing up and moving toward the kitchen again. “Stay put. I’ll grab something for you.”

You watched him go, your heart thumping unreasonably loud in your chest. He was being nice—nicer than he needed to be—but you chalked it up to Peter just being… Peter. Charming. Polished. Practically perfect. And completely out of your league.

He returned a minute later with a small glass of water and some medicine, handing both to you while placing the mug on the coffee table. “Take these.”

You hesitated but followed his instructions, swallowing the pills quickly and handing the glass back. He set it on the side table before sitting on the edge of the coffee table again, his gaze never leaving your face.

“Better?” he asked.

“Not yet,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I will be. Thanks for… you know. Helping.”

Peter tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. “I’d hardly call this helping. It’s just making sure you’re not miserable on your own.”

You managed a small smile, sinking further into the couch. “Still. Thank you.”

He didn’t reply immediately, his gaze softening. He reached out again, his hand brushing lightly over your forehead as if checking your temperature once more. “You should try to sleep,” he murmured, his tone unusually gentle. “I’ll stay here.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you mumbled, already feeling your eyelids grow heavy.

“I know,” he said softly. “But I want to.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue, letting your head rest against the pillow. Peter adjusted the blanket around your shoulders, his movements careful and deliberate.

Just as you began to drift off, you felt something—a feather-light brush against your forehead. Too tired to open your eyes, you assumed it was nothing, just a fever-dream detail slipping through.

But Peter sat back quietly, his expression unreadable as he watched you settle deeper into sleep. His hand rested on the edge of the couch for a moment longer before he stood, adjusting the light in the room to something softer.

For now, he would wait.

---

When you woke, you weren’t on the couch anymore. Instead, you were tucked into your bed, your blanket pulled up to your shoulders. The soft hum of an old humidifier filled the room, a faint stream of vapor rising from its spout.

You blinked groggily, your gaze settling on the chair near your bed. Peter was there, his jacket draped over the back of the chair and his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. He had a book open in his lap but wasn’t reading; his eyes were fixed on you.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, closing the book and setting it aside. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” you mumbled, still half-asleep. “Did you…?”

“Carry you to bed?” he finished, his lips curving into a faint smile. “You were out cold, Y/N. I didn’t think you’d make it to the bed.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you glanced down at the blanket. “You didn’t have to.”

Peter leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You said that already. And I’m still ignoring it.”

You fiddled with the edge of the blanket, unsure of what to say. “Thanks,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his voice low. “I wanted to.”

You glanced at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his eyes softened when they met yours. He reached over, brushing a hand lightly across your forehead. His touch was warm, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“Your fever’s down,” he murmured. “That’s good.”

You nodded, too shy to meet his gaze for long. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough,” he said lightly, leaning back in the chair. “Olivia called to check in. I told her you were still alive.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh. “She’ll probably tell everyone I’m being dramatic.”

“She might,” Peter said with a faint smirk. “But I’ll set the record straight. Tell them you were very brave.”

“Stop,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket up to your face to hide your smile.

Peter chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Fine. I’ll spare you the teasing. For now.”

You peeked over the blanket, catching his grin. “I didn’t know you were such a good nurse.”

“I’m full of surprises,” he said smoothly, standing up and stretching. “Do you need anything? More water? Tea?”

“No, I’m okay,” you said quickly, though your voice came out quieter than you intended.

Peter crossed his arms, studying you for a moment. Then, without a word, he stepped closer, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders. His hand brushed yours briefly, and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Peter didn’t move right away. His hand rested lightly on the edge of the bed, and you could feel the weight of his presence. Finally, he straightened, his expression unreadable.

“Try to rest,” he said, his tone gentler than before. “I’ll be in the other room if you need me.”

“Wait,” you blurted, surprising yourself. When he turned back to you, eyebrows raised, you faltered. “I mean… you don’t have to stay in the other room. If you’re tired or something, you can… I don’t know, sit here? If you want?”

Peter’s lips twitched into a small smile, his gaze softening. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me,” you said quickly, then immediately looked down, your cheeks burning. “I just… I don’t mind.”

He hesitated for only a moment before pulling the chair closer to the bed. “Alright,” he said simply, settling back into it. “If you insist.”

You relaxed a little, letting your eyes close again. Peter didn’t say anything else, and for a while, the only sounds in the room were the quiet hum of the humidifier and the soft rustle of pages as he reopened his book.

Before you drifted off, you felt the edge of the blanket shift slightly, as though he were tucking it in more securely. It was such a small gesture, but it left your heart fluttering in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

---

As you cleaned up your spreadsheet a knock on your office door drew your attention away from your computer.

“Someone’s here to see you. A… Peter?” Alyssa said.

You rolled your chair back a little before standing up, “Peter?” You repeated. “Oh—uh, yeah, send him in.”

Alyssa smiled and went back to the reception desk. You sat back down just as Peter knocked a few times on your open door before entering, a brown paper bag in his hand.

“Good afternoon,” he said smoothly, stepping inside like he owned the place. “Thought I’d stop by and see how my favorite accountant was doing.”

You blinked, immediately flustered. “Peter, what are you doing here?”

He held up the bag with a small smile. “I remembered you’re terrible about taking lunch breaks, so I thought I’d bring it to you.”

Your cheeks warmed as you glanced at the bag. “You didn’t have to do that. I was going to grab something later.”

“Were you, though?” Peter teased, pulling up a chair without asking. “Or were you planning to survive on coffee and determination?”

You sighed, knowing he wasn’t wrong. “Okay, fine. But really, you didn’t need to go out of your way.”

“It wasn’t out of my way,” he replied, leaning back casually. “Besides, I wanted to.”

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Peter always had this way of saying things that left you completely off balance. “Well… thanks,” you mumbled, reaching for the bag.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his tone softer now. “It’s just a sandwich and some soup, but I figured it’d hold you over.”

You opened the bag, the warm aroma of tomato soup wafting out. “This is… really nice of you.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Peter said with a faint smirk. “I can be nice.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” you replied quickly, glancing up at him. “It’s just… unexpected.”

Peter tilted his head, studying you with an unreadable expression. “I like surprising you.”

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, but before you could respond, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “So, how’s work?”

You shrugged, grateful for the change in topic. “Same as always. Spreadsheets, numbers, more spreadsheets.”

“Thrilling,” Peter teased, though his tone held genuine interest. “And Joshua? Has he been stopping by with sandwiches too?”

You froze, your spoon hovering over the soup container. “What? No. Why would he?”

Peter shrugged, his eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite place. “Just curious. Thought maybe he was trying to impress you.”

“Well, he’s not,” you said quickly, though your cheeks felt like they were on fire. “We’ve only gone out a couple of times. It’s not that serious.”

“Good to know,” Peter said smoothly, sitting back in his chair.

You frowned, glancing at him. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t,” he said lightly, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just making conversation.”

You hesitated, searching his expression for some kind of clue, but he was impossible to read. “Okay,” you said finally, turning your attention back to your soup.

Peter watched you for a moment longer before standing. “I’ll let you get back to it. But if you need another delivery, you know where to find me.”

You glanced up, surprised by the sudden shift. “You’re leaving already?”

He smiled faintly. “For now. But I’ll see you soon.”

Before you could respond, he was already heading for the door. You stared after him, the warmth of his gesture lingering even as his presence left the room.

Peter paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. “Don’t skip lunch tomorrow, Y/N.”

“I won’t,” you promised, though your voice was softer than you intended.

His smile widened slightly, and then he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the small, unexpected weight of his visit.

---

The Apollo Theatre foyer buzzed with excited chatter as you stood with Joshua, clutching your program and trying not to look overwhelmed. Olivia spotted you almost instantly, weaving through the crowd with her signature enthusiasm.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, wrapping you in a quick hug before turning to Joshua. “And look who’s with you. Hey Joshua. Ready for the show?”

Joshua smiled warmly, shaking her hand. “Always. How could I pass up an evening at the theatre?”

Olivia turned back to you, grinning. “Y/N, are you ready for this? I’ve heard Wicked is incredible. And you know how I feel about The Wizard of Oz.”

You laughed softly. “You’ve only mentioned it a thousand times.”

Before Olivia could retort, another familiar voice joined the conversation. “Quite the reunion, isn’t it?”

Your head snapped toward the source. Peter stood a few feet away, looking effortlessly composed as always. Beside him, Jade smiled politely, her golden hair catching the soft light of the foyer.

Joshua straightened, his expression slipping into something cooler. “Peter. Jade. Fancy seeing you here.”

Peter’s smile didn’t waver as he glanced at you. “Is it? I thought this was the hottest ticket in town. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Olivia’s eyes darted between the two men, her smirk growing. “Wow, all four of us together. How cozy.”

“Five,” Jade corrected with a light laugh. “Don’t forget me.”

“Right, of course,” Olivia said, her tone borderline teasing.

Joshua’s hand brushed lightly against your back. “Shall we find our seats, Y/N? I think intermission mingling will suffice for this particular group.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Actually, you’re all in our row. They’ve just started seating.”

Your heart sank slightly as Peter gestured toward the usher holding the door open. Of course you’d all end up sitting together—it was just your luck.

Joshua’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he maintained his composure. “Well, that’s convenient.”

Peter stepped forward, extending an arm toward you. “Shall we?”

Joshua opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Olivia interjected, her tone bright and amused. “Go ahead, Y/N. Peter knows the way better than any of us.”

You shot Olivia a quick glare, but Peter was already waiting, his arm still offered. Hesitantly, you placed your hand on his sleeve, letting him guide you toward the theatre. Joshua followed close behind, his expression unreadable.

---

The row was, unsurprisingly, a bit of a squeeze. Olivia sat on the far end, with Joshua next to her. You were in the middle, flanked by Peter on your left and Jade on his other side.

“This is… cozy,” Olivia quipped as everyone settled into their seats.

“Intimate, even,” Peter added smoothly, his gaze sliding to you. “How are you finding your evening so far, Y/N?”

“It’s nice,” you said quickly, fidgeting with your program. “I’m excited for the show.”

“As you should be,” Peter replied, leaning closer. “It’s a masterpiece. Though, I’ll admit, some moments can be quite… emotional.”

“Good thing I brought tissues,” Olivia teased from the other end.

Joshua cleared his throat, drawing your attention. “Are you familiar with the music, Y/N? I could hum a few bars if you need a preview.”

You laughed softly, trying to ease the growing tension. “I think I’ll manage, thanks.”

Peter’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Careful, Joshua. You wouldn’t want to spoil the magic.”

Jade glanced between the two men, her smile polite but strained. “Isn’t it wonderful how theatre brings everyone together?”

“Truly,” Peter said, his tone light but sharp enough to earn a glance from Joshua.

Before the exchange could escalate, the lights dimmed, and the orchestra began its overture. You turned your attention to the stage, grateful for the distraction.

---

Throughout the performance, you couldn’t help but feel hyper-aware of Peter. His arm rested lightly on the shared armrest, close enough that your elbows brushed once or twice. Each time, you shifted slightly, but he didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps he did and simply didn’t care.

Joshua, meanwhile, leaned in occasionally to whisper something about the show. His commentary was kind and thoughtful, but your responses were distracted, your focus tugged toward the man on your other side.

When intermission arrived, Olivia stood immediately. “Drinks, anyone? I could use something fizzy.”

“I’ll come with you,” Jade said quickly, standing and smoothing her dress.

Joshua glanced at you. “Want to stretch your legs, Y/N?”

Before you could answer, Peter turned toward you, his expression casual but intent. “Or we could stay and chat. The lobby will be packed.”

Joshua’s jaw tightened, but he managed a smile. “It’s up to you.”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of both their gazes. “I think I’ll stay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joshua nodded stiffly. “Alright. I’ll grab you a drink, then.”

As he and the others filed out, Peter leaned back in his seat, his posture relaxed. “Interesting choice.”

You turned toward him, fidgeting slightly with the program in your lap. “What is?”

“Staying behind,” he said lightly, his gaze steady but unintrusive. “I thought you might want a break from all this.” He gestured toward the crowded theatre.

You shrugged, unsure how to respond. “I don’t mind staying. It’s quieter now.”

Peter’s lips quirked into a small smile. “True. Quieter can be nice sometimes.”

You nodded, clutching the program tighter. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy in a way that made your chest feel tight.

“You’re enjoying the show, I hope?” Peter asked after a moment, his tone light.

“Yeah, it’s amazing,” you said quickly, grateful for the neutral topic. “The cast is incredible.”

“It’s a masterpiece,” Peter agreed. “I remember the first time I saw it. Defying Gravity gave me chills.”

You smiled faintly. “It’s definitely the kind of show that sticks with you.”

He studied you for a moment, then leaned a bit closer, resting his arm on the shared armrest. “You know, I’ve always admired your taste in music.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What? Why?”

Peter shrugged casually, though there was a glimmer of something deeper in his eyes. “You’ve got a good ear. You appreciate the details most people miss.”

Your cheeks grew warm under his gaze. “I don’t know about that. I just… like what I like.”

“That’s what makes it genuine,” he said simply. “You don’t pretend to like things just because it’s expected. It’s refreshing.”

You glanced down, fiddling with the corner of the program. “I guess I’ve never thought about it that way.”

He chuckled softly, his voice warm. “That’s what makes it true.”

You dared to look up at him again, finding his expression unusually soft. “You’re being… really nice today.”

“Am I not usually nice?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

“No, you are,” you said quickly, stumbling over your words. “It’s just… different.”

Peter tilted his head, his smile growing. “Maybe I’m just trying to put you at ease. You always seem a little… on edge around me.”

“I’m not,” you protested, though your voice lacked conviction.

“You are,” he countered gently. “But I’m glad you stayed. It’s nice talking like this.”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. Finally, you muttered, “Yeah, it is.”

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and he leaned back into his seat, his hand resting on the armrest just a little closer to yours. “Do you remember the first play we went to? At my father’s estate? You must’ve been—what? Eleven? Twelve?”

You smiled faintly at the memory. “It was A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Olivia made me go with her.”

Peter chuckled. “And you spent the entire first act whispering that you didn’t understand why people thought Shakespeare was funny.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Please don’t remind me. I was such a pain back then.”

“You weren’t,” he said softly, his tone sincere. “You were curious. That’s what made it endearing.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, your voice muffled. “Endearing?”

“Very,” he said with a small grin.

Before you could respond, the others began filtering back into the row. Joshua handed you a drink with a polite smile, his eyes flicking briefly to Peter. “Hope I got the right one.”

“Perfect,” you said quickly, taking the glass and shifting slightly in your seat.

Peter leaned back, his expression unreadable, but his gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer before he turned his attention to the stage.

As the lights dimmed and the show resumed, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Peter’s presence beside you. It was magnetic, grounding in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

And as the music swelled, you found yourself wondering if staying behind had been the right choice—or if it had only complicated things even more.

---

It was nerve-wracking going on dates with Joshua, but meeting his parents? That felt like a completely different level of stress. Lord Beckett’s estate was sprawling, the kind of place you’d only seen in magazines, and the garden party looked like something out of a period drama.

“Relax,” Joshua said, offering you his arm as you both approached the grand lawn. “They’re going to love you. And even if they don’t, they’re far too proper to say anything about it.”

“That’s… oddly comforting,” you muttered, glancing nervously at the clusters of guests sipping champagne and chatting under the shade of elegant white umbrellas.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, his tone warm. “Just smile and let me do the talking.”

You managed a small nod, though your stomach twisted with nerves.

Joshua led you toward a group near the center of the lawn, where Lord Beckett stood in a sharp navy suit, his posture as upright as his title implied. His wife, Lady Beckett, was beside him, her features poised and polite.

“Ah, Joshua,” Lord Beckett said, his deep voice carrying over the hum of conversation. His sharp eyes flicked to you. “And this must be… Y/N, is it?”

“Yes, sir,” you said softly, offering a polite smile.

“Welcome,” Lady Beckett said, her tone more cordial than warm. “It’s lovely to meet you. Joshua’s spoken highly of you.”

You blinked, glancing at Joshua, who grinned. “What can I say? She’s easy to talk about.”

Lady Beckett’s smile widened just a fraction. “How charming.”

Before the conversation could go much further, another familiar voice cut in.

“Lord Beckett,” Peter said smoothly, stepping into the group with Jade on his arm. “Always a pleasure.”

Your breath caught, and you instinctively looked away, focusing intently on the glass in your hand.

“Peter Lyman,” Lord Beckett greeted, his tone polite but measured. “You’ve been making quite the rounds lately.”

Peter chuckled. “What can I say? It’s hard to resist a good garden party.” His gaze flicked to you briefly, his smile unwavering. “Y/N. Fancy seeing you here.”

Jade added with a light laugh, “it’s practically a reunion, isn’t it? How lovely.”

Joshua’s arm tensed slightly under your hand, but he kept his tone pleasant. “Peter, Jade. Enjoying the season?”

“Absolutely,” Peter replied, his tone smooth as silk. “And you? Busy keeping Y/N entertained, I assume?”

Joshua’s smile tightened just enough for you to notice. “She’s been wonderful company. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You nodded quickly, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze. “Yes. Very.”

Peter’s lips quirked, his expression unreadable. “Good to hear.”

Jade broke the tension with a bright laugh, linking her arm with Peter’s. “Peter’s always said these events are better with good company. Haven’t you, darling?”

“Something like that,” Peter said lightly, though his eyes flicked back to you briefly.

“Shall we, Y/N?” Joshua asked suddenly, his tone smooth but insistent. “I’d love to show you the south gardens. They’re a bit quieter.”

You nodded, eager for an escape. “Of course.”

As Joshua guided you away, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder. Peter’s gaze was still on you, his expression calm but intent, as if he was waiting for something you weren’t sure you could give.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Joshua said quietly as you walked, his voice low but firm.

“What?” you asked, startled.

“Lyman,” Joshua clarified, glancing at you. “He likes to play games. Don’t let him pull you into one.”

You frowned, unsure of how to respond. “I don’t think he—”

“He does,” Joshua interrupted gently but firmly. “Trust me.”

You didn’t answer, but your thoughts were a storm of doubt and confusion as you followed Joshua toward the gardens.

---

The south gardens were quieter, with fewer guests and a small fountain bubbling in the center. Joshua stopped beside it, turning to face you fully.

“You’re tense,” he said softly.

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, though your voice wavered.

Joshua studied you for a moment, his expression softening. “Y/N… if this is too much, you don’t have to stay.”

“No, it’s okay,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I just—this isn’t really my scene, you know? But I’ll manage.”

He nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile. “I know it’s not easy. But you’re handling it well.”

“Thanks,” you said, though your thoughts were still elsewhere.

Joshua’s gaze flicked past you for a moment, and his expression shifted, growing cooler. You turned to see Peter approaching, his stride measured and confident.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” Peter said smoothly, stopping a few paces away.

“Actually—” Joshua started, but Peter cut him off.

“Y/N,” Peter said, his tone softer as his gaze settled on you. “Do you have a moment?”

Joshua’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone even. “We were just about to head back, actually.”

Peter ignored him, his eyes still on you. “Just a moment, Y/N. That’s all I need.”

You hesitated, glancing between them. Joshua’s expression was calm but tense, while Peter’s was unreadable, his usual charm tempered by something more serious.

“Go ahead,” Joshua said finally, his voice tight. “I’ll wait here.”

You nodded slowly, stepping toward Peter. “What is it?”

Peter waited until you were out of earshot before speaking, his voice low. “You don’t have to stay with him, you know.”

“What?” you asked, frowning.

“I mean it,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “If you’re not happy, you don’t have to keep pretending.”

“I’m not pretending,” you said quickly, though your voice sounded unconvincing even to your own ears.

Peter’s eyes searched yours, his expression softening. “You are. And you’re not very good at it.”

Your chest tightened, but you couldn’t bring yourself to argue.

“I know this is all… complicated,” Peter continued, his voice gentler now. “But I can’t stand watching you with him, knowing you’re not where you want to be.”

“Peter,” you started, but he shook his head.

“Just think about it, Y/N,” he said quietly. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your heart racing and your mind spinning.

---

Later, while you sipped your glass of champagne and held a small plate with a scone, Joshua leaned down, his voice low and warm. “I’m going to say hello to the Westford’s,” he said, pressing a light kiss to your cheek before walking away.

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat as you glanced around, hoping no one had noticed. It felt like such a public display, something you weren’t used to, especially with so many watchful eyes at a gathering like this.

Unfortunately, someone had noticed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Peter standing with Jade near the edge of the garden. His expression was calm, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. And then, with deliberate ease, Peter turned toward Jade, leaning down to whisper something in her ear.

Jade laughed softly, tilting her head up to him.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t a quick, polite kiss, either. It was slow, deliberate—enough to catch the attention of more than a few nearby guests.

Your stomach twisted as you froze, your fingers tightening around your glass. For a moment, you considered looking away, but your gaze betrayed you, snapping back to Peter.

And that’s when he looked at you.

Even as he kissed Jade, his eyes met yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that sent a chill down your spine. It wasn’t a glance; it was deliberate, calculated.

You felt your chest tighten, heat rising to your face. Before you could process what had just happened, you set your plate and glass down on a nearby table and turned on your heel, heading toward the side of the lawn.

You found Joshua near the Westford’s, laughing at something Lord Westford had said. He glanced up as you approached, his expression softening. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m not feeling well,” you said quickly, your voice tight. “I think I’m going to head out.”

Joshua frowned, stepping closer. “What’s wrong? Do you want me to call for a car?”

“No, it’s fine,” you replied, shaking your head. “I’ll grab a cab. I just need to go.”

“Are you sure?” he pressed, his brow furrowing.

“I’m sure,” you said, your tone firmer this time. “Thank you for the invitation. It was… lovely.”

Joshua hesitated, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he nodded. “Alright. Just let me know when you’re home, okay?”

“I will,” you promised, already turning to leave.

You made your way out of the estate, barely registering the elegant gardens or the soft chatter of the guests. Your chest felt tight, and your thoughts were a jumbled mess as you flagged down a cab and climbed inside.

---

By the time you arrived at Olivia’s apartment, your head was spinning. You fumbled with the spare key she’d given you, finally unlocking the door and stepping inside.

“Y/N?” Olivia called from the couch, her voice muffled by the blanket draped over her. She sat up, a bowl of popcorn in her lap. “What are you doing here? I thought you were at Lord Beckett’s thing.”

You dropped your purse on the nearest chair, your hands trembling slightly. “I was. I just… I couldn’t stay.”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed as she set the popcorn aside and stood, crossing the room in a few quick strides. “Okay, spill. What happened?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening. “Peter happened,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Olivia blinked, then sighed, crossing her arms. “What did he do this time?”

You sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. “He kissed Jade. Right in front of everyone. And then he… he looked at me.”

“What?” Olivia asked, her tone sharp. She sat down beside you, her hand resting on your arm. “Are you serious?”

You nodded, unable to keep back your sobs any longer. “I don’t know what he’s trying to do, Liv. One minute he’s nice, the next he’s… playing games. I can’t keep up.”

Olivia frowned, scooting closer and pulling you into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

You leaned into her, your face pressed against her shoulder. “It’s just… he said something to me before he kissed her.”

She pulled back slightly, her hands still on your arms. “What did he say?”

Your voice wavered as you tried to explain. “He said… he couldn’t stand seeing me with Joshua. That I wasn’t where I wanted to be. And then—then he just… walked away. And not even ten minutes later, he’s kissing Jade like it’s nothing.”

Olivia exhaled sharply, pulling you back into her arms. “Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry. That’s so… Ugh, I don’t even know what to say.”

You sniffled, your hands clutching the fabric of her sweater. “Why would he say something like that if he didn’t mean it? And then do the exact opposite? It’s like he’s trying to mess with me.”

She rubbed your back gently, her voice soft. “I know it feels like that. But right now, you don’t need to make sense of it. You’ve had a hell of a day. Let’s just… focus on getting you through this moment, okay?”

You nodded weakly, wiping at your eyes. “I feel so stupid, Liv. I shouldn’t even care, but I do. I always have.”

“You’re not stupid,” Olivia said firmly, pulling back enough to look you in the eye. “You’ve had feelings for him forever. This isn’t something you can just turn off.”

You didn’t respond, your chest still tight as you struggled to catch your breath.

“Alright,” Olivia said after a moment, her tone more practical. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re staying here tonight. I’ll make us some tea, and we’ll find something mindless to watch on TV. No more thinking about Peter, Jade, or Joshua. Deal?”

You hesitated, but the thought of not dealing with any of it, even for a little while, was too tempting to resist. “Deal.”

“Good,” Olivia said, standing and giving you a small smile. “Stay put. I’ll grab the tea.”

As she headed to the kitchen, you curled up on the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around you. Your thoughts were still spinning, but Olivia’s presence was grounding, her no-nonsense approach exactly what you needed.

When she returned with two steaming mugs, she set one down in front of you and plopped onto the couch with the other. “Alright, your choice: rom-coms or reality TV?”

You hesitated, then managed a small smile. “Rom-coms. Something ridiculous.”

Olivia grinned, grabbing the remote. “You’ve got it.”

As the opening credits of some over-the-top romantic comedy filled the screen, you leaned back into the cushions, trying to let the chaos of the day fade into the background. Olivia reached over, giving your hand a quick squeeze before settling in beside you.

“Hey,” she said quietly. “Whatever happens, you’ll figure it out. You always do.”

You nodded, your voice too shaky to respond. For now, you let yourself focus on the warmth of the tea in your hands and the comfort of Olivia’s shoulder against yours. It wasn’t a solution, but it was enough for the moment.

⁠♡ part 2 ♡

[n0sewise]

I was tagged by @recents on my main blog for WIP Wednesday, so I’m posting here on my side blog since this is where I post writing/fandom stuff. I’m tagging everyone and no one bc I’m too anxious to individually tag people (//∇//)

Anyway, here’s an excerpt from my killugon royalty au. Super rough and it needs way more fleshing out, but I think you can still get the idea from what’s here:

Kurapika wasn’t all that bad. Gon actually quite liked his tutor, and he’d come highly recommended to Aunt Mito as a fine scholar and an even brighter teacher. Even now, his smooth voice carried pleasantly throughout the room as he lectured Gon on something about fish. Fishing, probably. The Eastern Coast was known for its plentiful fish, having the good fortune of being located in the middle of the Gulf of Mobius. Or was it the Western Coast? One of the coasts, anyway. He’d only just gotten back from visiting a neighbouring earl’s daughter in the east, and Gon had quite liked the beaches. There hadn’t been much time to explore; there were dances and feasts, and the earl had wanted him to get to know his—

“Prince Gon?”

“Sorry, what?”

Kurapika’s delicate brows knit together in a pinched crease on his forehead. “I asked if you could tell me why Kujira stations our naval forces on the Eastern Coast only.”

”Oh,” said Gon. He thought for a moment. It would have something to do with fish, wouldn’t it? Kurapika had been talking about fish, and about—

He was saved from answering by a frenzied knock at the heavy, cypress door.

It was Zushi once again, and breathing hard like he’d run the entire way there.

“Your Excellency,” he panted, nodding at Kurapika. “Your Royal Highness, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but the Queen wishes to see the prince.” He straightened up from his deep bow. “She’s in her chambers,” he added. “It’s urgent.”

Gon could hardly fight his grin.

”I really should—“

”Just go,” said Kurapika with a dismissive gesture.

Aunt Mito’s chambers were all the way on the other end of the palace, and nearly the complete and polar opposite of Kurapika’s study. They were bright and airy, with long sheer curtains that fluttered gently in the breeze, and nearly every surface was decorated with a flowering plant or vine of some sort. Gon smiled when he spotted his mother busily tending to one of her plants, imbuing it with her own sparkling energy until its leaves were plump and vibrant with life.

“Aunt Mito? You wanted to see me?”

“Gon!” She turned and met him with a bone crushing hug once he was within reach.

“Is everything okay? Zushi said it was urgent.”

She waved a hand impatiently, her armful of bangles and charms clacking all the while, and laughed him off. “That boy is so serious,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong, but I’ve received another courtship proposal, and—“

Gon couldn’t help it, he wilted on the spot the moment the word courtship left her mouth.

”Aunt Mito, this is the eighth one this year, and it’s only April!”

”It’s only April and you’ve turned down eight perfectly nice options!” she countered. “Come sit,” she said, moving over to settle on her bed. “Sweetheart, I really think you’ll like this one.”

Gon collapsed next to her, falling back onto Aunt Mito’s soft blankets with a grunt.

”You said that last time,” he reminded her. “And it’s okay, I didn’t mind meeting her at all! I thought Noko was a very nice girl!”

”She was,” Aunt Mito agreed, “but I really do think you’ll want to see this next one. He’s a prince just like you,” she added. “So you’ll have that much in common.”

”Sure,” he said, with a brightness he didn’t feel. “I’ll go look. It can’t hurt, right?”

”Wonderful! The Padokean emissaries are already waiting for you to approve.”

Gon blinked. “Sorry, what?”

Aunt Mito could only smile helplessly. “They were insistent that their prince’s portrait be viewed in the best possible light, and I wouldn’t let them have the throne room for it.”

”All that for a painting? I’ll meet him, if that’s what you’re asking, Aunt Mito.” He’d already pushed himself up into a seated position, but even from this angle, she was hard to read, a funny sort of smirk twitching on her lips.

“There’s no need for that, Gon,” she said. “Just go and have a look and you can let me know if you’d like us to make arrangements. The emissaries are in the courtyard.”

Weird, thought Gon as he walked through the palace. All that fuss for a painting seemed excessive, but he’d promised Aunt Mito. Padokea rang a distant bell in the back of his mind, and he remembered that it had been in one of the readings Kurapika had wanted him to finish. Nothing to do about it now, he figured, already smiling as he stepped back out and into the sunshine. He’d reached the courtyard.

The emissaries were indeed waiting for him outside. There were two of them, and they looked woefully out of place under the warm blanket of Kujiran sunlight. Both wore sharply tailored jackets with stiff high collars that covered their necks entirely. They stood among the jacaranda trees, solemnly holding what must have been the painting under a dark veil of fabric.

“Your Royal Highness,” said the one on the right, bowing his head.

“Oh, hi,” said Gon. They still hadn’t lowered the painting, and he wondered if their arms ever got tired. “You know you can put that down, right?”

The second emissary looked at him, and despite maintaining a rather stoic expression, Gon could see her lip curl ever so slightly in what he could only assume was disgust.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you!”

”We have been entrusted with the safe passage of our crown prince’s portrait,” she sniffed. “Its beauty shall never touch the ground beneath our feet.”

”Uhhh,” said Gon. “Okay, well whenever you’re ready, I guess?”

Both of them straightened immediately, standing even more stiffly than before. With a sweeping motion of his arm, the first man began to speak.

“Prince Gon of Kujira, we present to you The Crown Prince of Padokea, First of His Name, Heir to the Throne of Shadows, and Pride of the Zoldyck Family: His Royal Highness Prince Killua Zoldyck.”

And Gon hardly had enough time to reflect on either the lengthy title, or how the emissary managed to say all of that without taking a single breath, because his partner had already pulled the veil from the painting, and there, looking out at him from a gleaming silver frame, was the most beautiful boy he’d ever laid eyes on.

Gon’s breath caught in his throat as he stared. Immediately he understood why the emissaries had insisted on unveiling it among the jacaranda trees. Anything less would’ve been an insult to the boy in the painting. He gazed haughtily out of the frame at Gon, his sharp, elfin features frozen in a bored, half-lidded expression. It was hard to know where to look, Gon realized, his gaze roving every which way. There was the sharp angle of the prince’s jawline, softened only by his full, pouting lips. The prince’s hair too, was striking in its own right. It was entirely white, like the smooth, sun bleached colour of a seashell, framing his face in messy waves. In the end it was his eyes that Gon couldn’t look away from. They were large and blue, and framed by a set of long, silver eyelashes that lent him the appearance of something not quite human staring out from behind his frame.

One of the emissaries cleared their throat.

“Is he to your liking then?”

Gon forced a laugh and rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck as he grinned.

”Yeah—I mean yes. Yes. He’s…” he trailed off. “Send the letter. Please. I’d very much like to meet him.”

An odd sort of smile twitched at the edge of the shorter emissary’s mouth, and she hid it before he could comment.

“Very well,” she said. “We’ll notify the royal family.”

[too-many-rooks]

Writing procrastination game!

Thanks @lastlymatt for tagging me, I got rambly so I’ll put this under a ‘read more’

Tagging @pigandpepper @known-concepts @countessrivers

1.) what’s the name of one of your wips?

My doc names are usually very boring 95% of the time I finish a fic and think it’s ready to post and realise I need a title. How about ‘Yassen Bedroom Visit’?

2.) Describe a Wip in the format of __+__=__

SCORPIA heir Alex + totally normal kidnapping and drugging in the middle of the night get to safety orienteering exercises = childhood trauma

3.) What tags/warnings will one of your Wips need if you share it?

Forced child seperation?

4.) alternative title to a wip?

I don’t really have alternate titles! Titles tend to come pretty late in the process!

5.) which wip are you most likely to update/finish next?

Probably one of my s3 aus I’ve got brewing, there’s a longer thing I posted the first chapter of today but I also have some one shots, one where Yassen gets wounded fighting off Alex’s enemies and Alex basically has to hold him down to say he cares about him, and another where Yassen comes to chat to him in the middle of the night (while Alex is sleeping) and they catch up.

6.) what is one of your wip’s document title, not what it’s name is but what you have it saved as?

Again, extremely boring. Some examples - ‘Tom/House introduction’, ‘stables’, ‘the ball’, ‘heir apparent 1-9’, ‘hunting’ ‘hostage’ ‘orienteering.’

On reflection, these are very badly organised. But, hey Ho.

7.) post any sentence from your WIP?

Okay this took me forever to decide bc I want to share like, all of my sentences, but here’s a sentence from my SCORPIA heir Alex thing where Yassen just tries to take a day off, but is interrupted by Alex sneaking out of school/the country and mountain his school is on

‘Rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, he blocked out the little blonde headache sat before him, and sighed, already imagining the state of his email inbox when he got back to his laptop, which he’d sworn would stay folded in its case for the rest of the day.

“And how long ago was this? When should I start expecting panicked calls from your father?”‘

8.) a scrapped idea from your WIP?

Not necessarily a scrapped idea but evidently one I forgot about and rediscovered as I was flicking through google docs - originally a pre-season 3 idea (but could work post s3) where Yassen retires, and decides it’s time for Alex to retire too, even if he doesn’t want to. Very “congratulations you are being adopted! Do not resist.” Meme with Yassen that I’ve seen on here, the bit I’d written was him contemplating the least traumatising way to kidnap him, to make sure they’re a happy family unit post-kidnapping

9.) what’s a story you would love to write but have yet to start?

Alex sees dead people AU - Ian knows, when he dies his ghost becomes bound to Alex, and helps take care of him/watch over him in the field, Alex bumps into Yassen at Point Blanc and immediately recognises the ghost bound to him as his father, especially as he begs the assassin to stop pretending like he can’t hear him for once and let him see his son, to protect him.

10.) how many WIPs are you actively working on?

Four - regency fic, darker Alex s3 au, two other s3 aus I mentioned earlier. Suprised myself by how much of this longer ‘SCORPIA heir’ Alex thing that I’d put off for a while I’ve actually written. That’s one that I really want to finish before I start posting bc I’m bad at doing work without an immediate emotional reward/it’s a longer than anything I’ve written before and I don’t want to give up on it when it’s half published. I had been delaying it till after s3 but maybe time to get to work (will try and finish regency fic first)

11.) is there a scene your struggling to write now?

Oh I mean so many but the most immediate stumbling block is with the regency fic, chapter after this one they go to a ball and that’s almost basically written and so is a lot of the next two chapters but there’s things I need to thread into this chapter that just don’t want to be threaded - I need Alex to start being a bit more suspicious of Yassen, and remember that whole thing about his uncle being murdered now he’s a bit passed the initial princess diaries revelation moment.

I was thinking like Alex waiting up for him on Christmas Eve or something and falls asleep then is woken by Yassen sneaking back in and Alex noticed he’s got blood on his clothes or something and Yassen just shrugs him off and reacts more strictly/authoritatively than he has before. But the scene is a bit sludgy I my mind atm.

12.) Not a question but a second kudos!

[saltandskeletrons]

Hi! I saw your tags on my post about AI and I was wondering what your job is that you are forced to use AI? Or just, what exactly are you using the AI for? I didn't know that work places were already incorporating ai in such a way that you would HAVE to use it.

Please don't answer either question if you feel they are too personal or if you just don't want to answer them for any reason at all. I'm just curious, is all!

Thank you for reading this and I hope you have a wonderful day!! 😊

Hey! Thanks for reaching out, I really don’t mind answering, and talking about ai generated art is pretty relevant to my career so this might be long lol.

my job is a part time graphic design student position at my university. Right now I’m working on a presentation where I have to visualize a lot of technology/ products/ and architecture that don’t really currently exist. My supervisor told me I should try using playground for some images and I was just like, ya ok I’ll try it.

(Personal opinions alert) I never used any ai image generation before bc I’ve always seen it as just stealing art. And I have no personal desire for ai writing/ visual art- it completely misses the point of making art to me.

But I am a designer which isn’t necessarily the same thing as an artist- and I don’t really get paid enough or have the time to start ethical conversations at my job. So forced was definitely a strong word to use haha but ai is really looming over the whole graphic design industry.

I know of some firms that proudly use mid journey and with a lot of free software available ai is being used more in low risk, low reward scenarios. It’s definitely not a necessity but there are designers that see it as a good way to save time but their design intent/ decision making is still at play.

But tbh the playground images I’ve ‘made’ look pretty bad and I think a sketch or photoshoped concept would look more sophisticated.

Tldr: ai image generation is being used in graphic design workplaces, but it’s not the main software being used at all. (I would argue bc it’s not good enough yet, and there is a lot of skepticism on the ethics of it)

[gallopinggallifreyans]

I saw your tags on the arrow post and I would very much like to learn about the eye surgery thing but from your words bc I feel like I’ll learn in a more fun way than from googling it would u mind sharing?

Absolutely I will share thank you for asking this is one of the funniest things I've ever experienced in this particular class actually, which is really saying something because this was a class on archaic and classical Greece taught by a millennial, so you already know it’s wild as hell.

For a little bit of context, Phil loses his eye between 355 and 354. Up until that point, it’s been about 150 years of near constant tension, save for the 20 odd years between the end of the Persian War and the start of the Peloponnesian War (which is really just two wars strung together by a joke of a detente—I can tell you more about it another time). Athens lost the Pelop war, Sparta won, Sparta starts a hegemony, Lysander of Sparta installs oligarchies, Sparta Does Not Like That, Thebes comes in and starts their own hegemony, Macedon Does Not Like That, and Phil goes on a campaign to conquer Greece, and he’s got a preeeetty strong claim.

So there’s a whole lot of fighting. As you might figure, war comes with injuries, and if warriors wanted to live they had to figure out how to fix themselves before the infections got them. At this point in time, they're using missile weapons. Not like, actual modern style rocket missiles—I'm talking stones and arrows. One of these arrows found its way into Phil's eye, and this happened around 355–354, so like, ten years before Macedon's rise to real power in the Greek world, during Phil’s campaign around Greece.

There was this guy called Diocles who was a surgeon in Phil’s army, and surgeons didn’t actually do the surgeries themselves (sometimes they did but I can’t point out specific statistics, it’s not my field and I never went looking) but most of the time they would just hold the patient’s head and shoulders and direct assistants in the surgery. I can’t remember the actual reason for this and I could also have some facts mixed up, so don’t quote me on that specific bit.

Anyways, Phil had an arrow in his eye. Diocles had a spoon (pictured below). Phil was probably drugged up with unmixed wine and some other fancy plants used to get high because their version of anesthetics was alcomahol and weed (or alcohol and weed adjacent). Fast acting pain relief and all, except it doesn’t relieve pain it just inhibits like, all your pain receptors so you don’t feel anything until a day later and then you’re cussing out your surgeon.

^that’s the spoon, it was meant for removing arrows. The hole in the middle is where you’d stick the shaft of the arrow through, so you’d press the back of the spoon against the wound, and then lever the arrow out. It sounds a little impractical and there’s not a whole lot of information but from what it looks like you can infer pretty well how it’s supposed to work.

Diocles removed the arrow from Phil’s eye with that spoon, and along with the arrow, he removed Phil’s eye. There’s some mention about an eyestalk in some text somewhere, I’d have to double check in my copy of Arrian, but I won’t go into that because it’s irrelevant and kinda gory.

So now, there’s about fifteen of us in this class, and, keep in mind that we’re all or mostly in our early twenties, which means we have verbal filters made of single ply toilet paper, and our professor is this millennial guy who regularly dresses like Charlie Swan from Twilight. Flannel and all. Truly one of my favourite professors.

We’re all so morbidly curious about ancient surgery, so we derail the class into a nice long discussion about known surgical methods and hypothetical surgical methods. Someone picks up on the fact that quite a few tools looked like modified cutlery (see: the spoon of Diocles). Someone else suggests unconventional methods of surgery, like a pneumatic contraption for bloodletting. A third person suggests combining the two into a straw, and then proceeds to detail how Diocles might have used a straw to yank Phil’s eyeball out.

My professor hears this, acknowledges this, and in true millennial new dad fashion goes, “Oh, like a boba!”

And I lost it. I told my entire family that story and received varying degrees of approval.

And that’s it! @androgynyispunkashell I’m sorry for taking so long to answer but I hope this was funny and (at least somewhat) informative!

[i-never-forgot]

Y’all know I can’t leave anything alone so I’m elaborating lol—I cannot be saved from the brain worms at this point

We already know Celebi would likely suffer with “ooh, shiny” syndrome bc…well, she is shiny—plus she’s able to travel quite a bit (in space and time, evidently) and I think she’d get easily distracted by anything that even remotely piques her interest. I also think that she’s the most liberal with her affection in general (pet names and PDA), but on the flip-side I get the feeling that she treats everybody she holds in any semblance of positive regard that way—you only know if you’ve secured a place in her favorites list if she starts bringing you things that reminded her of you. It could be rocks, orbs, items, scarves, flowers—anything. She would shower you with gifts to show how much you’re on her mind—and I think she’d get a kick out of Sky Gifts, so I’ll bet she’d becomes a regular at Shaymin Village gathering presents for her little found family “just because” (and for every reasonable date/event/birthday/anniversary—because you’d best believe that she never forgets anything).

Grovyle is quiet-natured and seemingly soft-spoken until pressed—I believe the motivation behind his impatience and rashness was the looming probability of the literal end of the world, because in the slower scenes (like the night in Partner’s home after returning from the future, for example) he seems a lot calmer. Therefore I think he’s not quite as forward with his affection in the rest of these…even his dialogue seems somewhat restrained; it doesn’t seem to particularly come easily to him, in my opinion (and this could very well be a result of his upbringing in the dark future—we don’t know for how long he was on his own before he met Hero and/or Celebi). So, because of this, I think he’d find the most comfort in spending time with those for whom he feels the safest and closest—proximity and mutual silence can vary, but he’s most content when he’s able to relax with his chosen family. Oftentimes, even if he’s trying to keep busy with work, he finds himself drifting off to sleep; this result could easily be surmised, given that he’s survived on his fight-or-flight instincts for, presumably, the majority of his life. Give him ten minutes to be able to sit still, now that the world is saved, surrounded by those who would unquestionably attempt to keep him from further harm…despite himself (because I think he would also struggle to wind down because of the fact he’s been running nonstop forever), he’s knocked out and snoring like a Snorlax. (Also he would absolutely be a fiendish cuddle bug and you cannot convince me otherwise. This is my personal headcanon and you can pry it out of my cold dead hands.)

Upon first consideration in this thought experiment, I had a bit of trouble pinning down Dusknoir…the others came relatively easily, but once I tagged them, the pieces fell together for this old ghost. My supposition (which I have also discussed here) is based upon the fact that he tends to put himself out there for others—he’s willing to let the Guild crowd him for autographs (even if it was part of his guise), he saves Hero and Partner in Amp Plains without asking anyone else to do so for him and without help (even if it was urgent), and he asks the Sableye to check on Grovyle and Celebi after Primal Dialga almost crushes him to death (which speaks the loudest and most plainly to this idea of all these examples, in my opinion). He obviously has the hardest time discussing his feelings (although the only example of this we have is with Grovyle, whom he had considered his sworn enemy for a long time), he’s keen to violence as his default setting (I’ve talked with @fujii-draws about him learning casual physical affection in the past mostly via Hero and Partner as it is a totally foreign concept to him), and—like Grovyle—he’s been in survival mode for so long he would most definitely struggle emoting anything sincerely without relying on a performative sort of expression (so his enthusiasm and such might come across as sort of fake to those with whom he interacts most frequently as a result once his entire identity and worldview is altered post-SE5—he’s always been forced into a malicious role and has only played benevolent parts in a deceptive context, so it’ll definitely take him some time to rediscover himself and figure out who he really is once the danger of being erased from existence is no longer preoccupying his finer mental faculties). I think he would cope with the inevitable lack of self-worth and survivor’s guilt (among myriad other issues surrounding the aforementioned redefinition of his entire literal life) by doing way too much at first, for everybody, to try to redeem himself and his past mistakes, to earn forgiveness he’s already been granted, to amend the injuries he’d incurred although they’re well on the way to healing…Grovyle and Celebi have enough let-sleeping-dogs-lie attitude to leave all that stuff in the past, but Dusknoir’s not going to find it as easy to do so. He’s going above and beyond to make sure they have everything they need, meals are prepared, tools/bags/housing is repaired without asking, jobs are taken and done for money to put in the bank, et cetera…I imagine Grovyle and Celebi would have to set him down and talk it out so he doesn’t run himself into the ground prematurely on the second lease on life he’d been so graciously given (because he thinks his worth is defined by what he can offer in terms of his skills and energy as opposed to his mind and personality based on all his prior experiences [and this is why, with Eliana and Lu, he finds it so surprising that all they really want from him is to share his knowledge—even with Team Skull, they don’t want him to kick their asses like he was initially inclined to do, they just want him to scare them off so they’ll leave them alone]). [This tendency would get especially worse if he tries to reconcile with Hero and Partner eventually; he’s going to smother them ten times as much as Grovyle and Celebi, hovering constantly and trying to fix everything even remotely remiss and being super protective of them as a result. I could go on forever, but I hope my point has been made.]

I think that Partner is in a similar boat to Celebi—they’re relaxed with their words, don’t carry as many hangups as some of the others do (although after Dusknoir’s betrayal and losing the Hero after restoring Temporal Tower, I think this point could be debated), so without as many traumas they’d find it significantly easier to be affectionate in general. This is evidenced by the fact that they trust Hero right off the bat despite being a perfect (and rather perplexing) stranger, only tipped off to their potential benevolent nature by their assistance in recovering their Relic Fragment in Beach Cave. They’re clear with their feelings (if a bit naive about admitting them, to a certain extent), even the negative ones, throughout the entire storyline—they’re not afraid to admit when they’re excited, uncertain, or terrified—and just as transparent with their fondness and worry about Hero. The only time I recall that they don’t really open up is during the Darkrai debacle, and I think that’s only because they were putting on a brave face for Hero so they wouldn’t worry about them on top of everything else that was going on. I think it’s easy to suppose that Partner would give nicknames and not hesitate to let those for whom they care know exactly how deeply they feel about them.

And this may be a bit on the nose, but I think Hero would lean towards physical affection because: a) they don’t have a lot of spoken dialogue (partly for immersion and partly for narrative limitations, I admit, although it gives room for the player to fill in the blanks as a result, so this point could fluctuate depending on your own versions of the Hero), and b) the Dimensional Scream…maybe they develop the habit of touching/bumping into/brushing against foreign objects/other Pokémon in an attempt to get a sense of them. After Drowzee, Dusknoir, and Cresselia/Darkrai’s betrayals, I imagine that Hero would become somewhat cagey around strangers, especially those that the people around them don’t know personally (e.g. Wigglytuff already knew and trusted Team Charm as opposed to the Guild having only heard rumors of Dusknoir), in effort to better protect those they care about. As they grow more comfortable around the Guildmembers and citizens of Treasure Town, perhaps they get to the point where they don’t even think about touching others—I can see them being particularly more affectionate with Partner or Marill/Azurill, for example, and maybe some of the Guildmembers (like Bidoof). Maybe you know you’ve won them over if their previously unknown/undeveloped grooming instincts kick in and they start picking through your fur/hide/scales/feathers to make sure you’re clean and warm. (Maybe Hero had always been physically affectionate, and that subconscious trait trickled through their amnesia as familiar as their name had—maybe they had indulged Grovyle’s insecure clinginess, holding him so that he could sleep for just a few hours while keeping watch; maybe they helped him when he was shedding and itchy and miserable by scratching the hard-to-reach places on his back; maybe they introduced him to gentle, caring touch that was not strictly violent for the sake of survival, either due to the nature of their relationship or by patching up each other’s wounds after a close scrape in a dungeon or narrowly escaping Primal Dialga, Dusknoir, and the Sableye.)

(…posts this without context…)

Celebi: Gifts

Grovyle: Quality Time

Dusknoir: Acts of Service

Partner: Words of Affirmation

Hero: Physical Affection

[alloftheimagines]

eddie munson | dancing in the kitchen

masterlist | tag list | ko-fi

words: 1.8k

warnings: 18+

brief/implied smut mostly, brief mention of weed and cigarettes, suggestion of eddie's rough family and work life, but mostly just fluff this time

prompts: heyy can you do a imagine of eddie x fem! reader where she surprises eddie with a home cooked meal and he gets chocked up bc he has hadn’t had home cooked meal in a very long time and he ends up loving the food. thanks :)❤️

"we’re dancing round the kitchen in the refrigerator light." - w/Eddie pls and ty <3

tags: @whiskeypowder @lil-stark @cultofmunson86

Eddie is certain he’s walked into a parallel universe when he steps into his trailer. Instead of the smell of weed, tobacco, and his uncle’s aftershave, he’s greeted by the aroma of rich, buttery garlic and roasted chicken — and beneath that, your favourite candle scent: apple cinnamon. 

Frowning, he shucks off his jacket and throws it on the couch before following the sounds of clattering pots and gentle hums. “Babe?” 

You’re so lost in your own head that you don’t hear him, and he leans against the door jamb of the kitchen, lips tugging with a smile as he watches you pace and stir and mutter to yourself, turning the pages of a recipe book that already looks to be dusted with grated cheese. And god, Eddie is so in love with you he forgets how to breathe. It’s been a rough day — every day is since he finally graduated only to get a full-time, dead-end job at the local grocery store. His feet ache, ears still burn from fucking up a customer’s change when the cash register stopped working.

He needed this. Needed you. But he never expected that, when he gave you his spare key, he'd come home to you flitting around his kitchen, making dinner like… well, like you’re his wife. It leaves a warm knot in his stomach. One he doesn’t want to untie any time soon. You make it all easier. Make it worth it. One day, I’ll save enough to get us our own place, he told you. It’s why he works a job he hates. Why he’s still trying at all. 

Since you haven’t noticed his presence, he fights a grin and sneaks up behind you while you check on a boiling pot of pasta. He snakes his arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as you gasp and snap your head toward him.

“You made me jump.” You cast him a heatless scowl and then return to the pots on the stove. Next to the boiling spaghetti is a creamy concoction with pieces of chicken and herbs, and a plate of more grated cheese than any two people need sits on the counter next to it. 

“Watcha doing?” Eddie asks despite already having guessed the answer. But this is foreign to him. The two of you have been living off grilled cheese, microwave meals, and takeouts when you stay at one another’s place. He didn’t even know you could cook.

“Cooking." You relax into him, moulding your body to his like you’re one being. 

He rolls his eyes and presses his smile to your neck, making you squirm just the way he likes. He kisses the top of your spine just so you do it again. “My girl’s funny, huh? Why are you cooking?”

You shrug. “We’re adults now. This is what adults do, right? Besides, I realised that I never made dinner for you before.”

“I didn’t know you could,” he admits, finally prising himself away only to lean on the counter. The steam rising from the stove heats his face, mouth watering and stomach grumbling with hunger. 

“I’m not exactly a natural, but I can follow my mom’s old recipes pretty well.” Finally, you leave a peck on the tip of his nose before turning down the heat on the stove. “How was work?”

His face scrunches as you brush his hair off his shoulder. “Sucked. It always sucks.”

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” you whisper sadly, and he hates it, because he knows that though he does this for you, you hate him being miserable just as much as he does.

So he shrugs it off and nabs a piece of cheese. “Everyone hates their job, right? Besides… I get to come home to you. That makes it worth it. You really didn’t have to do all this though.”

“I know. I just wanted to do something special for you.”

“Oh, shit.” His eyes widen, and he’s certain he’s forgotten something. His birthday? Yours? An anniversary? “Why?”

You put your hands on your hips. “Why?”

“I mean, why tonight?” he amends quickly, carefully. He’s certain there’s nothing special about today, but he isn’t exactly known to have a great memory. 

“Because I love you,” you reply simply. “That’s why. Now go take a seat. It’s almost done.”

“You don’t love me every night?” he challenges with a raised brow, causing you to roll your eyes and shoo him away with a tea towel. 

“Go.”

So he does, finding the rarely-used dining table laid out with placemats and candles, the lights turned off. He feels lost in his own trailer for a moment as he glances around. You really pulled out all the stops, and he still can’t comprehend it. Not until you appear in the doorway carrying two plates piled high with pasta, chicken, and sauce. You bring in another plate of garlic bread and he just stands there, unsure what to do, unsure what this is. 

“Are you going to sit or are you going to stare at the dinner table all night?” you tease. 

“No, of course…” Eddie scratches his head and sits, and you do the same. Picking up his knife and fork, he twirls the spaghetti around the silverware as though he’s never seen it before — which probably is true. Pizza doesn’t usually require cutlery. After offering you a quizzical look, which you return with a raised brow, he digs in — and completely, utterly melts. A groan falls from him. “Holy shit.”

“Good?” you ask, eyes sparkling with nothing but hope and pride. You deserve every minute of it. Eddie’s mouth is watering, stomach warming. He’s never tasted anything this good, this fresh, this full of flavour. 

He spears another heap of pasta and gulfs it down. “Tastes like heaven.” 

The words are muffled by the food, making you giggle as you taste it yourself. “I’m glad you like it.”

Eddie swallows slowly, dabbing the corner of his dimpled mouth and then his chin. Something wells deep in his chest, and it takes him a moment as he looks down at his plate to realise what it is. 

Nobody has ever made him a real home-cooked meal before. Back when his dad was around, he survived on tinned shit — if he was fed at all. His uncle tries, but he works long days and Eddie usually ends up reheating leftovers on his own. Nobody has ever gone through the effort of making him a home-cooked meal. Nobody has ever sat down at the table with him to share it. 

You notice his watery eyes and tip your head, concern softening your features. “Everything okay, love? It’s okay if you don’t like it.” You let out a small laugh, pushing your plate away. “I told you I’m not that great. I just thought—”

He catches your hand across the table quickly. “No, hey. It’s the best damn thing I’ve ever tasted.” He clears his throat, begging the tears not to come. He can’t cry over a damn plate of pasta. That's totally not metal. “No one has ever done this for me before, you know that? Nobody’s ever cooked me anything.” 

“Eddie…” you whisper as understanding dawns. You shuffle across the table to be closer to him, and he squeezes your thigh gently, lovingly. 

“‘S been a rough day,” he murmurs, twirling a ringed finger through your hair distractedly. “But you always know how to make it better. This is perfect. You’re perfect. You make this place feel like a real home.”

You cup his jaw, peppering kisses along his stubbly chin and tired eyes. “Always. I’m always here.”

His lips linger on your forehead for a moment before he shakes his head, unable to believe how he got so lucky. Then, he goes back to his dinner, savouring every cheesy, creamy bite. He tells you about his day: the old lady who comes in every day for eggs and milk, the kids who are always skipping school and try to use their fake IDs to buy beer, the hellish manager who loves to yell. You laugh and nod and listen, and then you tell him about your own day, and it’s so damn easy and so damn right. 

When you go into the kitchen to prepare dessert, he turns on his uncle’s old record player, glad, for once, that his music taste is much calmer than the rock Eddie prefers. A soft love song is scratched out from the needle, and Eddie doesn’t want to wait for you to come back. He wants to be with you. Wants to dance with you because it’s not something you’ve ever done before, and tonight is a night of firsts. 

So before you can bring in the pecan pie, he grabs your hand and twirls you under his arm, tugging a laugh right from your belly. “What are you doing?” you ask as you collide with his hard chest. 

“Dancing with the person I love,” Eddie whispers, swaying as he laces his fingers through yours. His other hand falls to your waist. 

Your cheeks puff with the force of your smile. “If I’d known a home-cooked meal was all it took, I would have done this a long time ago.”

He smirks, pressing his forehead to yours as he hums the ballad under his breath. “You’ve been hiding all this talent from me. You have some catching up to do.”

“Well, I thought you just really liked frozen pizza,” you tease, looping your hands around his neck to be closer. 

He snorts and kisses you gently, tongue running across the seam of your lips, where he still tastes butter and spice. “You’ve ruined it for me now, baby.”

Your mouth parts, allowing him access, and your thighs slowly follow so he can lift you up. He takes you straight to the counter, and you quickly shove away the plates and pans to make room as his hands search your body.

His fingers tighten on your sensitive hips as he murmurs, “You have no fucking idea what you do to me.”

You rake your fingers through his hair carefully, gaze never leaving his face. “I love you, Eddie. So much.”

It’s all he needs to hear. He ravishes you there on that counter, as slowly as the first time and just as desperate, because he has to cherish every moment of you. Every piece. Dessert is forgotten. It’s you, him, and the music floating in from the dining room, which does little to cover your mingling moans. 

“Fuck, baby. I love you,” he whispers over and over until the very last moment, when the world stills and he pulses inside of you. “I love you.”

You think there’ll be plenty more home-cooked meals in your future.

[bumblingbunny]

The Love and Conquest BC is looking for Love Interests!

Love and Conquest is a Story-Based-On-Gameplay Bachelorette Challenge based on all of the fantasy, romance, isekai stories I love! We’re missing some important characters though and I’m hoping you’ll help. Now that Harlow has found herself in the role of Harmony, we need some other sims to take on the roles of her love interests!

SUBMISSION DETAILS Each love interest should have two versions:

Fantasy: This version should be a character from the dating sim - and unlike Harlow, they won’t know that they’re in a dream! They should have a distinct role in the story and should be fully in character (at least at the start). This is the version that will appear in most of the BC’s story posts.

Real life: At some point Harlow is going to have to wake up from this dream and hopefully her selected partner will wake up with her! These sims will get to live in Harlow’s actual gameplay save - either as her partner or in another role if they don’t win.

Since this post is already too long, check out this one to learn more about Harlow/Harmony. The rest of the submission details are under the cut! Feel free to send me any questions. :)

I’ll be accepting submissions until May 8th! Please tag me in your sim’s post so I know to reblog it. I’m really hoping to get at least 6 sims and will gladly accept any more that I receive.

SUBMISSION DETAILS CONTINUED

All genders are welcome!

I have all of the packs except for the kits.

CC is allowed! Please keep it maxis match or maxis mix.

Supernaturals are allowed for both versions! But also, their supernatural status does not need to be the same for both versions. (For example Harmony is a talented magician while Harlow isn’t.) In the real world save, supernaturals exist but aren’t super common. In the game though, it is normal to see them - except for demons who are supposed to have been sealed away centuries ago. (So any demon in Adoria probably has a disguise.)

With your submission, please include:

Name, pronouns, sexuality and supernatural status for both versions. (These can be different for each version!)

A description of their personality and lifestyle. NOTE: At it’s core, the personalities should be the same for both versions. However, since the fantasy one is in a dating sim, it would make sense for their personality to be exaggerated or buried underneath a bunch of romantic tropes.

The fantasy version can have colorful/unnatural hair and eye colors. The real life version should have realistic coloring - although dyed hair is alright.

The real life version should have at least one everyday outfit, so I can get a feel for their style.

The fantasy version should have 2-4 looks. One everyday look, one daytime party look (this can be the same as the first look if it is dressy enough) and one fancy, nighttime look that they’d wear to a ball. The 4th look is optional and can be used for a work uniform or a disguise or even a big story moment you have in mind for them.

The fantasy version should also fill a distinct role in the story. It can be pretty much anything except for the king or queen of Adoria. Some possibilities are:

Prince or princesses of Adoria (can even be heir to the throne)

Nobles from Adoria, or royalty/nobility from other kingdoms who are visiting for the season

Wizards working for the royal family or the Wizard’s Tower

Knights, merchants, guild leaders, spy masters

Villainesses, assassins, demon lords in disguise

(NOTE: I may slightly change roles or backstories to fit in with the other submissions and create existing relationships between them. For example, if I get a crown prince and a villainess, they will probably start off engaged to each other.)

Feel free to include as little or as much detail as you like! If you have ideas for their story line, how they could meet Harmony, or even just songs that make you think of them - I’d love to hear it! But most of all, if you do decide to submit a sim, I hope you have a lot of fun making them! :)

[xoxo-teddybear]

Heyo! I'm a REALLY REALLY REALLY! Big fan of angst and your works, so I have a suggestion! So like, in this au Bakugou and Y/N are aged up and they have a daughter (let's just say her name is either Katsumi or Kirumi). So, the child is 4 years old and she didn't get her quirk yet. Let's just say Bakugou got drunk when his friends dragged him to a bar and this woman decided to hit him up and let's just say he cheated- so Y/N found out because kiri just had to tell her because it wasn't manly at all for him to keep a secret and Y/N left him with his child and boom! Bad ending. Please tag me in this one tyy!

Bet.

(Changed it up the slightest bit to make Katsumi remember bc I kinda wanna do a part 2 for this)

Nobody to Blame but Yourself - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: ANGST, cursing, cheating, alcohol consumption

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Pt.1 Pt.2

You have a small, beautiful family. Your loving husband, Katsuki and your adorable daughter, 5 year old Katsumi.

Katsumi was your precious baby girl. She had Katsuki’s ash blonde hair with your silky smooth hair texture. She had your E/C eyes and Katsuki’s porcelain skin. She had Katsuki’s bravery and boldness along with your kindness and compassion. She was a perfect mix of you both.

Y/N and Katsuki have been together ever since their childhood. Their families were close and they grew up together. Katsuki always swore to protect his princess. They got together in their junior year and about 5 years after they graduated from UA high, Katsuki proposed.

—

—

“Be back soon, okay Suki?” You sweetly said to your husband as he got closer to the door. He pulled you in with a smile and pecked your cheek.

“Yeah, yeah Teddy Bear. I’ll probably be back sooner than you think, don’t even wanna go with those losers.” He complained with a strained face. You giggled at his expression and went on.

“Those losers have been your best friends since high school. You love them. You know you do,” you teased. “Besides, you haven’t spent some time with them in forever.”

“Yeah Y/N. I’m a husband and a dad. I don’t need to be around my friends, I need to be with my family.” He exclaimed with a playful voice.

“Well your family will still be here when you get back. Just as long as you always come back to us too.” You said with a wink.

“Always will Teddy Bear.” He said holding you tight. He held you close until you both heard the little pitter patter of feet running to the front door. You both looked down and saw your daughter in her pjs and watched as she jumped onto Katsuki.

“Be back soon daddy!” She said with a squeal. Katsumi was definitely a daddy’s girl. Her and her father were attached at the hip the second she was born. They were best friends and you loved their father-daughter dynamic.

“Katsumi, you’re supposed to be sleeping, love.” You said with a chuckled as you held her tiny hand while Katsuki picked her up in his arms.

“I wanted to say bye to daddy before he went to see uncle Kiri! And uncle Denki and uncle Sero and Auntie Mina!” She said and watched as you and Bakugou lip synced to her voice as she said the Bakusquad’s names. She laughed at her parent’s teasing as Katsuki assaulted her in kisses.

“That’s sweet baby bear. Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon. So get to bed you brat,” Bakugou said as he placed his daughter down and ruffled her hair. Others would look down on the rough treatment but you knew Katsumi never took it seriously. She always laughed and played back with Katsuki whenever he put on his ‘mean guy act.’

“M’kay.” Katsuki bent down to kiss her cheek and you followed doing the same action before Katsumi ran back off to her room. You and Katsuki said bye to each other after Katsuki gave you a loving kiss. He walked out the door to meet with his friends as he knew he was in for a long night.

It would soon shock him to see how true that statement would be.

—

The night was going well. Katsuki left around 8:30 and he said he would be back sooner than you thought so considering he was now a family man, you thought he’d be back by midnight. However, you woke up in the middle of the night and saw it was 3 in the morning...and he still wasn’t home. You were starting to get worried now.

If this was back in your earlier years of marriage, you’d say this was okay. Not great but okay, except now, Katsuki has responsibilities and promises that he vowed to keep. He should’ve been home a long time ago. Where was he? You stayed up deciding to sit and wait for him to come home and after almost 2 hours, your phone rang.

You picked it up quickly with a little bit of fear and anger sitting in your stomach. You didn’t even bother to check who it was so when you heard the voice of your husband’s best friend instead of Katsuki, you grew concerned.

“Katsuki! Where are you?!” You asked with worry as you slightly shouted into the phone.

“Hey Y/N..... It’s Kirishima. Umm...I have something to tell you.” He said with sadness detected in his voice.

“Kiri? Is everything alright? Wheres Katsuki?” You asked.

“I’m so sorry Y/N...”

Listening to the red head’s voice made your eyes pop. Your body trembled and tears began to pool in your eyes as you shook your head in denial. Katsuki loved you. You both had a daughter! A family! He would never....he wouldn’t....right? After talking to your friend for some time and getting the crucial information you needed, you made up your mind on what you had to do.

“T-Thank you, Kirishima. Goodnight.” You said into the phone with a hiccup.

“I’m sorry Y/N. You don’t deserve this. You and Katsumi....goodnight.” He said and hung up the phone. You placed it down and sat in silence for a moment. After about a minute, you broke down again and cried into your hands. You sobbed as tears flowed down your cheeks. Rivers of heartbreak and anger streamed down your face as you cried the night away.

Well..you couldn’t cry all night. Katsuki would probably be back in the morning and you had plans. You’d have to save your tears for later. You looked at the time.

4:18 a.m.

You set your alarm for 6 and went back to bed. The whole night, all you could think about was your precious baby girl. This was going to break her little heart. Instead of crying over your husband’s betrayal, you wept for your daughter’s future without her best friend. Eventually you cried yourself to sleep and the sun rose in time.

—

10:00 a.m

Katsuki opened his eyes to the alarm on the nightstand. He yawned a bit before adjusting his eyes to morning light. The more he looked at the stand, the more he realized he didn’t recognize it. Nor the alarm clock. He looked around and noticed he wasn’t in his bedroom. Katsuki shot up and sat on the bed and looked down to notice he was completely undressed. He looked to the side and saw some random woman. A complete stranger who was also naked in bed with him. His heart grew rapid as his eyes grew frantic.

“No, no, no, no, no, no this can’t be happening..this can’t be happening!” Katsuki said as his hands found way to his hair as he tugged on the blonde locks. The woman next to him awoken to his shuffling and smiled up at him. She placed her hand on his bare chest and cuddled in close to him as she sighed in content.

“G’morning handsome. Had a fun night?” She teased, reminding him of his affair and unloyal actions.

“Get the fuck off me!” He said as he jumped out of bed and found his pants. He pulled them on and continued to scream. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! The hell did you do to me you fucking slut?”

“What’re you talking about? And who the fuck are you calling a slut?” The woman said with sass.

“Just tell me where I am!” Katsuki demanded.

“A hotel! You know, the hotel you dragged me to so you could get your dick wet.” She said as she sat up from the bed but still covered herself with the blanket.

“Why the fuck would I do that?!” He screamed.

“You tell me. All I know is that I saw you in that bar, you drank a hell of a lot with your friends, I came up to you and flirted with you, you flirted back, we shared a few more drinks, and you dragged me here. I mean, I consented of course but still.” The stranger explained. Bakugou shook as he looked around in a frenzy. “Anyway, round 2?”

“You fucking bitch, I have a wife!” He screamed at her as he got himself dressed.

“Heh, wow. Well when your wife leaves you after she finds out you cheated, give me a call.” The woman said as she layed back down on the bed. Katsuki seethed at her as he squinted his eyes in disgust.

“You shameless slut. Like hell I will! And Y/N’s not gonna leave me! She loves me! And I love her-“

“Sure didn’t seem like it last night~” the woman said. Bakugou had enough and blasted the bed she was on with his quirk before cussing her out and leaving her there. He quickly ran out the hotel and found his car. He hopped inside and started it as he quickly sped off home.

“Shit!” Bakugou screamed at himself. How could he do that?! How could he cheat on you?! You were his everything! You and Katsumi! His two girls were his entire world! And he betrayed the both of you by doing this. He could only hope that you wouldn’t find out. He can’t tell you what he did. He would lose you! He can’t lost you! This whole thing just has to pass over and things will be fine. Right? Well something didn’t sit right with him as he inched closer and closer to his house.

—

When the 6 o’clock alarm rang, you woke up, ready for the day to begin and the drama to unfold. You were quick to get yourself ready. Brush your teeth, shower, get dressed, a little makeup, and you packed your important belongings and your clothes. Everything else would be replaceable. You put on a pair of shoes and put the rest in the large suitcase you had.

You made a quick call to Mina, assuming she already knew what happened. You asked if you could drop Katsumi off for some time and she of course said yes. After saying ‘thank you,’ you brought all your bags into your car and went back inside to get your daughter.

You walked into your daughter’s bedroom to see her sleeping peacefully. Next to her bed, a framed picture of your once happy family. It was Katsumi’s 4th birthday and she didn’t want to spend it with anybody else except for Mommy and Daddy. Now, you were gonna have to take someone out the picture. You shook your daughter awake and watched as she opened her beautiful E/C eyes that resembled your own.

“Katsumi..hey baby, wake up.” You softly said with a reassuring smile to not alarm her. You watched as she rubbed her eyes with her tiny fist and looked up at you.

“Mommy? What’s going on?” She asked as she looked around in a daze.

“You’re gonna have a little play date at Auntie Mina and Uncle Kiri’s house. Uncle Denki and Uncle Sero will be there too! You excited?” You asked with enthusiasm to hide your pain.

“Really Mommy?!” Your daughter asked with excitement.

“Mhm! Get ready and get dressed for Mommy. They’ll be here at 8, okay?” You said rubbing your daughter’s back before she quickly jumped out of bed and into her own bathroom.

“Okay Mommy!” She said as she ran into the bathroom, turning on the sink to begin her morning routine. Some time passed and Katsumi got dressed and you went back in her room to help her dry her hair. You helped her put on her shoes and by the time they were on, Mina and Kiri were already at the door.

You opened it with a soft smile and the couple looked at you with supportive, sad eyes. “Hey guys..”

“It’s okay to be sad Y/N, we’re here for you.” Mina said. Your eyes teared up at her words but you shook your head and gave her a hug.

“Thank you, but I promise myself I wouldn’t cry. At least, not when Katsumi’s around. I gotta be strong for her. Her whole life’s about to change after all.” You sadly said as you looked down and released your hold on Mina. Your pink friend nodded before walking into the house to find Katsumi in her bedroom. You and Kirishima stayed at the door and talked a bit more.

“I’m so sorry for all of this Y/N. I should’ve been watching him more.” Kirishima said as he looked down in sorrow.

“Kiri, you shouldn’t have to watch him. He cheated and that was his choice. Your choice was being a true friend and telling me. A true man,” you joked. You both gave a little bittersweet laugh before calming down again. “Thank you so much Kirishima.”

The red head did nothing but pull you in for a tight hug. You almost cried on his shoulder before your daughter came to the both of you. “Uncle Kiri!”

You both separated and looked down at the excited 5 year old. She jumped onto her uncle and he happily held her in his arms. “Hey squirt. Ready for a day full of fun?”

“Mhm!” Katsumi replied. You all talked some more before Katsumi said her goodbye to you and went off with Kirishima and Mina. You shut the door and took a break as you allowed a few silent tears to drop. You wiped them away and went to pack your daughter’s bags. Just a few more hours and he’d be home..probably. All you knew was that you’d have to face him eventually.

Finally, you finished packing your daughter’s things and placed them in your car. You put on a jacket and waited for Katsuki to walk through the doors. Soon, this perfect little family would go crumbling to the ground.

—

Katsuki pulled into his driveway and his eyes took notice of your car still there. He smiled at the sight and quickly got out of the car. He slammed the vehicle door shut and ran to the entrance. He unlocked the door in a rush and to say he was happy to see you on the couch, still there, was an understatement.

“Y/N! Hey Teddy Bear! I am so sorry!” He said as he ran to you and sat down next to you on the couch, pulling you in for a tight hug. He was too happy to even notice your jacket and shoes that you wore.

“Katsuki, you were gone all night. Where were you?” You said in a soft voice as you placed your hand on his chest so you could face him.

“I-..I overdid it and spent the night at Kirishima’s. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, love. I was passed out the whole night.” He said and attempted to pull you in again but you pressed a hand to his chest to stop him. You couldn’t believe he was going to lie to you. Actually, now that you think about it, cheating wasn’t below him so why would lying be either?

“So why didn’t Kirishima call me? Or Mina?” You questioned. Unfortunately, you underestimated Katsuki’s quick tongue. He was a good liar, and if you hadn’t already known the truth, you’d probably believe him.

“Shitty hair’s phone died and Alien girl was asleep by the time we got back. By the time he put me in the guest bed, I knocked out so don’t asked me what happened after.” He said. Your anger and fury grew at his lies but he didn’t notice. “Look, I’m so sorry I came back so late but I can make it up to you Teddy Bear. Now would you just give me a hu-“

“SHUT! UP!” You screamed as you pushed him off of you. You stood up from the couch and Bakugou watched you in “confusion.” Bakugou felt his heart racing as he had a guess at why you were so mad but he refused to believe it.

“T-Teddy Bear, whats wrong?” He asked with shaky hands as he tried to reach out to you but you dodged all his attempts.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?! You’re fucking lying to me! You’re lying to me after doing what you did! Katsuki, are you just gonna act like you don’t know what you did?! Because I know! So why don’t you?!” You screamed at him. Bakugou still couldn’t believe you knew so he tried his soft attempts once more and reached out to you again.

“Baby, please calm dow-“

“Are you fucking serious Katsuki? You’re gonna tell me to calm down?!” You laughed out in disbelief. You watched as Katsuki’s lip began to tremble and he looked down in shame. “Say it.”

“What?” He spoke softly.

“Say what you did.”

“......”

“Say it Katsuki! Tell me what you did and how you betrayed not only me but your daughter too.” You specified. It took Bakugou a second before he spoke up in a soft, quiet voice.

“I cheated on you...”

“Louder.”

“I cheated on you!” He said while standing up and facing you with tears in his eyes. “I cheated on you! Okay?! I got drunk last night and slept with someone else but baby I swear I didn’t mean it!” He said as he walked to you and tried to hold you. You once again pushed his hands away before speaking back.

“It doesn’t matter if you meant it or not Katsuki! You still did it!” Your voice grew dry as it began to break. Your eyes pooled with tears as you continued. “I would’ve NEVER done that to you. I wouldn’t even be CAPABLE of doing that to you Katsuki! Because I love you!”

“I love you Y/N! I swear I do!” He fought back but you retaliated.

“It doesn’t seem like it! Because you slept with someone else! You promised me you would never hurt me. You promised you would always protect me. You promised me that you loved me and only me! Not only that but you promised your daughter that you would never bring harm to her! Guess what?! You’re the reason her whole life is going to be so fucked Katsuki! Do you realize that?!” You screamed at him.

“I do, Teddy Bear, I do!” He said.

“Don’t fucking call me that Katsuki!” You said with an exasperated voice. Bakugou shook his head as he walked to you and kneeled infront of you.

“Baby, please! I’m sorry! I was drunk, it didn’t mean anything! It was a mistake but if we can forget about this I promise I’ll make it up to you!” He begged.

“Forget? Forget?! Are you insane?! I’m never gonna be able to forget any of this Katsuki. How the hell am I supposed to forget that my first friend, my first love, my first kiss, my first everything betrayed me like this! How am I supposed to forget that my husband, who I’ve known since we were fucking babies, cheated on me?! Tell me!” You said as the tears finally fell.

“I don’t know...I don’t know but I promise I can make it up to you! So please forgive me! Please stay!” He pleaded. The whole time he couldn’t let go of you. Every time you pushed him off, he just came right back.

“How am I supposed to trust that you’ll actually keep that promise?” You said softly with a sad voice. “If it wasn’t clear already, I’m not staying. We’re getting a divorce, Katsuki.”

Bakugou felt his heart shatter. He looked at you with his trembling body and shaky irises. “W-What?”

“Katsuki...you cheated. There’s no other way around it. No explanations or excuses. And you can’t even blame it on the alcohol because I’ve been blackout drunk before too and the idea of cheating on you never even crossed my mind. You have nobody to blame but yourself.” You said with a broken voice and a shrug. “We’re getting a divorce and I’m taking Katsumi with me.” You said and began to walk to the door.

Bakugou couldn’t believe what he just heard and so he got up from his knees and ran after you. He ran in front of you and held you by the shoulders. “What?! No! Baby!! Please, that’s my daughter! You can’t just take her from me, please!”

“I won’t be taking her from you,” you said and pushed his hands off your shoulders. “We can co-parent, but when she’s old enough, when Katsumi asks why we’re no longer together, I’ll be telling her the truth. So you can still see her, but when she’s ready to know, if she decides she hates you and doesn’t want to see you ever again, then you’ll have to accept it.”

At this point, Katsuki began to openly cry as he allowed his fat tears to flow down his face. Hiccups left his mouth as he shamelessly sobbed infront of you. “Y-Y/N....please don’t go. You guys are my family, you’re both my entire world..I-I love you both so much,” he said and went in to grab your hand, which you allowed. “I know I hurt you both a-and I know I fucked up, but please just give me another chance. I swear this was just a mistake, I never meant to do it. Please stay...please let me fix my mistake. I love you.”

Tears once again filled your eyes but you didn’t allow them to flow. “.....I love you too Katsuki,” at those words, Bakugou felt a bit of hope. “But I just can’t stay with you. If it was just me..I probably would give you another chance..but Katsumi is your daughter Katsuki. She’s your own flesh and blood and you betrayed her. You’re supposed to be her hero and you betrayed her like this. I just can’t trust the fact that you won’t do something like this again, and not just for my sake but for our daughter’s too. I’m sorry, but this is where we end.”

Once you said that you walked away from Bakugou, leaving him in shock. He stood there, regretting everything. Not just his mistake, but all the times where he could’ve been a better husband.

‘I should’ve held her more..I should’ve been home more...I should’ve been more for them,’ he thought until he heard the door open and slam shut. He turned to face it and looked around the now very empty house. He allowed silent tears to drip down his face and then he took a little tour of his new environment.

He walked to the master bedroom and saw all your belongings gone. He saw your closet was empty, all your shoes gone. He went into the bathroom and saw all your stuff was missing. The tears flowed faster and when he walked into his daughter’s room, it made it 10x worse.

He opened the door to the pink room and saw her bedsheets missing, all her toys gone, her closet was barren, and her bathroom was hollow. He walked back out to his little girl’s former bed and sat down. He cried on the bed and sobbed into his hands. He broke down as he thought back to your words. You were right.

‘You have nobody to blame but yourself.’

Katsuki looked up from his hands and when he did, he took notice of the picture frame that was left faced down on the night stand. He picked it up and his heart turned to dust. It couldn’t break anymore. He looked at the picture of his once happy family. His beautiful wife, his blessing of a daughter. His two girls who had a protector...that protector was supposed to be him...and he failed. He smiled at the picture but continued to cry. It was a beautiful sight but you left it behind.

He took the picture with him as he walked to his bedroom. He sat on the bed and held the frame close to his chest as he layed down on the cold mattress. Tears still freely fell as a shadow casted over his eyes. No words could be said except for a few.

“N-Nobody to blame but myself.”

@darl1ngmei

A/N: Hey Cubs! It’s been awhile since my requests have been closed AND THEY STILL ARE but the reason why I took this one was because I’ve been on a writing spree recently (I literally have 15 drafts full of different writing pieces🤣) and I rly liked this request! Please don’t start sending requests because they may just get lost. When I open up my requests, then you guys can send some because I love to satisfy! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this piece and thank you to the cub who requested this! 🧸💗

[tu-sugar-mami]

Warnings and uh tags?: reader death, unsolicited angst. Don't read honestly, it's crappy, im feeling angsty today don't read, this doesn't make sense at all but meh bc i always hurry i have no patience. Happy ending if course but still

###

Alcina can't understand it.

You're just another maiden of the bunch. Why are her eyes tearing up?

You're nothing more than a simple servant, as disposable as any other, just a toy kept around for her amusement only. Sure, she might have gotten a liking to you, an uncommon fixation but nothing else. So why? Why is her stomach churning with worry and why is her her mouth dry at the sight of your limp body trapped under the fallen bookshelf? Why are her eyes watering and her heart beating uncontrollably when she can't hear yours even if she's straining her ears.

When she heard the thunderous roar of something clashing to the ground she was ready to lecture you, wasting no time in climbing up the stairs with hurried steps in search of you, but her feet stopped abruptly at the sight that greeted her: Half of your body buried under the heavy wood, books littered all around you and blood spilling out of your mouth.

It takes a moment before she spins into action, pushing the bookshelf away and kneeling beside you. She doesn't know what to do, she's afraid of touching you and risk hurting you even more but she can't bring herself to call for help.

She's angry at you, at herself. At you because why did you have to be so reckless? You're fragile, human, mortal, and yet you're stubborn in doing things your way. At herself because she should have known better than to leave you alone.

With gloved fingers on your neck she checks for a pulse. You can't be de— No, she won't finish that thought, she won't accept it. There isn't a pulse but she is not letting you go.

Careful to control her strength Alcina picks you up, cradling you in her arms and close to her chest. You've always been soft and squishy, great for cuddles and hugs, but the way you feel in her hands as she carry you downstairs is way too wrong, like a pouch of glass marbles. Your face is pale and your limbs sway like those of a rag doll. At this point even Donna's dolls and puppets seem more alive than you do.

Alcina orders a carriage to the first maid that crosses her way. Her cracking voice harsh to the maid's ears while she scurries to bide the order she's given.

The daughters somehow hear the fuss and go to investigate. They find their mother trying to hold back tears, though unsuccessfully, since some of her makeup is already smudged.

"Don't." Is all she say when one of the girls try to touch you. They're worried at the dull, lifeless tone in her voice, but they obey nonetheless.

Alcina doesn't know why she's acting like this. She doesn't know why suddenly you're worthy of her wasting precious time to try and save you.

She remembers how you had never been afraid of anything, not even when you were sold to her by your parents. She wonders if you are afraid of never waking up again.

During the whole journey to Moreau's —the only one that appears in her mind when it comes to someone able to help— she never lets go of your frame, cradling your pale cheek in her hand, her thumb caressing your now cold skin.

Why is her heart hammering in her chest? Why does she feel like grieving the loss of something precious? Why is she suddenly overwhelmed by all these emotions? It doesn't make sense, not at all.

Moreau is curious as to why Lady Dimitrescu's carriage is pulling up at his door, and at such hour at that. He's not expecting a teary Alcina carrying a young maiden in her arms, ordering him to save you, and when he states what she already knows she begs for everything that is holy that he still try because you can't leave her, not like this.

Alcina didn't know how important you had become to her until she realized your smile was gone, until she realized you were not going to sit on her lap and giggle when she corrected historical events on modern textbooks again. It hit her like a bucket of cold water that you were not going indulge in playful banters whenever she's stressed again, and of course you would not braid Bela's hair while retelling stories of old books by the fireplace anymore.

It hit her that you were, in fact, not just another one of the bunch, no.

But it hit her even harder that she was the only one at fault for this.

She had been the one to send you away with a wave of her hand, annoyed. "If you want to be useful go and do something, but don't stand there like a nuisance." She had said. She was bitter. She had heard you talking with another maid, a friend of yours, about how you wanted to leave and explore the world and everything it had to offer. She thought you weren't happy with her and that hurt her, so she did what she always did when hurt: hide behind a cold mask.

She hadn't meant for you to go to the library. She hadn't meant for you to die. And now she was praying to every god she knew to get you back.

The only option left when Moreau can't wake you is to go with the only other person capable of beating death. Miranda.

And so Alcina does, and by a miracle mother Miranda agrees to try, but her motives as always are twisted. You do wake up, but you're not you anymore. A soulless beast has replaced the sweet, flirty maiden that was before. Alcina thinks she can handle it as long as you're back with her, but she's proven wrong when you get out of control.

No one admits it, but they pity her.

No one was to say it, but it's clear they have to put you down, out of your misery.

Alcina pulls out her claws and with a single tear rolling down her left cheek, she strikes...

...

...

...Alcina wakes up with pained yell. She's drenched in cold sweat. Her heart is beating a mile per hour. She touches her face and feels her cheeks sticky, wet with tears.

At her side you wake up too, startled, looking your surroundings for a sense of orientation. Next to you is your beautiful wife, sitting, crying her eyes out, covering her mouth with a hand in an attempt to quiet her whimpers. The grasp of sleep abandon you in a blink and in a second your arms are surrounding her.

"My love, it's okay. You're okay, it was a dream, everything is alright." You say while swaying side to side trying to calm her down. You cup her face, kissing her tears away while caressing her tear stained cheek.

"You died... I killed you." She whispers desperately. You shush her and hold her close to you.

"That will never happen. It was just a nightmare." You say. After a kiss is properly placed on her forehead you manage to lay side by side, and even though Alcina is much bigger than you she's hiding her face on the crook of your neck.

She won't say a word, but you know she won be able to sleep again. In the darkness and quiet of the large room your voice starts to sing a sweet, soothing lullaby while you fingers tangle in your lover's hair and start to play with it. "I love you, Alcina." You say out loud when you feel Alcina's heartbeat lower to a tranquil pace and you're sure she's drifting back to her slumber. "I'll be here for you, always."

------

If you love my work, buy me a coffee?

[earthtooz]

hi earth! i was wondering if you possibly had any advice for anyone who wants to start a writing blog or general tips. if you’re comfortable with it, it would also be cool to know what your writing process is like! you write very well so i’m just curious. thank you for taking the time to read this and i hope you have a lovely day!

first of all, this ask was what got me out of bed in the morning to go to my laptop where i did nothing for like 2 hours.

ANYWAYS I’ve been awake for seven hours now and i still haven’t answered it LOL, but thank u for taking the time to pop into my inbox anon!! so honoured u thought of me 🤭🤭

i’m more than happy to answer any questions u may have!! i’ve only been writing here for like one and a half years but I’ll gladly share some tips for new writers <3

tips for new writers - writing on tumblr in general:

formatting and your writing style is very important!!! people most of the time will like stories that have good grammar and are easy to read, so know your punctuation- duh, i mean, most people know where to put their commas, full stops, and shit, but as even a native English speaker i still need to double check sometimes 😭😭😭

ALSO, figure out if you’re a writer who likes to write with proper punctuation or in lower case like i am rn. people on tumblr don’t care which one you opt for so it’s a matter of personal preference!!

personally, i like to use proper punctuation for longer fics with more plot, and lower case writing for normal drabbles, headcannons, etc, all up to you :3 depends on what i feel like tho, i just like the look of lower case hehe

also, you can totally write drafts on tumblr or another platform - i switch between docs and tumblr. shorter pieces on tumblr and longer pieces on Google docs !!

how to get attention on tumblr as a new writer - the importance of tags:

USE THE TAGS - DON’T BE SHY !!! USE A VARIETY !!!! it’s so easy to get reads on tumblr if you just know your tags. i also will say: be mindful of whether or not you stay in tags bc your post can suddenly just disappear- this has happened to me so many times 😭😭 to do that just search if your fic is still popping up in the ‘recent’ section of the tags AND EVERY TIME AFTER U POST SOMETHING, TAKE THE TIME TO SEARCH IF IT’S IN THE ‘RECENT’ TAGS.

(this part might make zero sense, but if it’s been a couple hours and your post still is not popping up, you can either edit it again, make no changes, and press ‘save’.)

general tips:

have an aesthetic layout.

obviously it’s not ‘essential’, but i always find myself more likely to follow blogs that are pretty or have an aesthetics

it takes so long to do but it’s so worth it 😭 if you looks at the fics that do very well, the formatting it very beautiful and pleasing to the eye.

if you’re struggling with a layout, there are so many inspos available on tumblr, just search up ‘blog inspo’ or ‘layout inspo’ and you’ll generally be pretty successful. if all else fail just go to your fav blogs and see how they set up their blog/navigation/aesthetic!!!

having a set colour for your blog can also look nice and less chaotic. for example; mine is red and it’s my (usually) go-to colour for a lot of stuff. just make sure u like the colour tho ☝️

also don’t be afraid to talk to people! AUTHORS LOVE WHEN YOU COMPLIMENT THEIR WORK!! getting mutuals is such a great feeling so PUT YOURSELF OUT THERE !!!!! MAKE FRIENDS 😮😮

my writing process:

i am that writer that likes to have a plot before i start anything, but it��s never complete. normally when i’m going abt my day, i suddenly think of a piece of dialogue or scenario that makes me go ‘hold on. let me write that down’.

for example, recently i thought of a piece of dialogue for an angst fic (that i don’t know if i’ll use) that goes:

‘no i’m not upset that you forgot about our anniversary, in fact, i already predicted you would.’

another idea i had was: you don’t ever want to leave nagi seishiro hungry.

sometimes I get these ideas when i’m in bed like bro 😐 let me rest…

if i feel inspired enough to continue said ideas, i do, but i never force the fic from happening bc then it’ll be mediocre and just… okay. not something i want on my blog 😭

but then i decide the wordlength, how many scenes i want to be in there. for example, my mistletoe todoroki fic i set out for 4k and met my goal. but my itoshi rin Xmas fic only met around 1k when my goal was 2k - sometimes this happens and i cant be mad if i think the story is done there.

it’s never that organised though, if you look at my drafts, it’s a scrabble of words. i jump from scene to scene with big gaps in between that i need to fill in later 😭 but that’s just how i write LOL ! you may be totally different from me which is a-okay :3

then i grind til the fic is done, reread then bam 💪 ! do my usual formatting on tumblr, tags, and then you’ll see the final result!! easier said than done bc when you want to be done with a fic and just post it, you then need to do all the actual presentation of the fic 😭😭😭

anyways yeah, that’s my process summarised lol!! hope it helped u get a little bit of an idea for what the earthtooz blog grind looks like 🫡

so yeah, i think that’s all i rly need to say!! if you wanna follow my advice or not, up to u, but once again, thank u for popping in my inbox anon and asking me!! gave me something to do whilst on my walk 🤭

cant wait to see what you write, always feel free to come back and ask if you need some ‘extra help’, but i believe in you! good luck and have fun writing, and i hope to see u in the tags someday :D

[jikookpancakes]

JIKOOK FIC RECS that no one asked for (2021)

but im giving anyway because THE TALENT IN THIS FANDOM IS INSANE

long post incoming!! this is probably just part 1 because i wont stop reading anytime soon so i’m inserting that link just in case i do make another one in the future

What’s a Soul Really Worth, Anyway? by thisneedsmorefilth - 130k words, fantasy, demon!jm, witch!jk, listen, this and the next one are my top 2 jikook fics of all time, so well-written, plot so exciting legit reads like a book, better than a lot of books tbh, the world-building is INSANE, jungkook and the gang accidentally summon demon!jimin and chaos ensue, especially for jungkook...and you know why!!!, so funny, angsty, cried so much, happy ending but listen to me: you gotta read the sequel too, YOU GOTTA.

Militat Omnis Amans: The Beginnings by edaen - 92k words, fantasy, werewolf!jk, vampire!jm, forbidden love, super slow burn but super worth it, JIKOOK IN THIS IS MY FAVORITE JIKOOK IN ANY FIC EVER EVER EVER, this is the ultimate all or nothing will freeze hell over for the other kind of love, and the way this is written is just so... how do i describe it. like you can just tell the author wanted to be very realistic with their feelings. you’ve seen the word count, this is SLOW burn. like you will legit feel their struggle to just be able to love each other and while it hurts, it’s also SO GLORIOUS. i love this one so much and if you like reading angst with happy ending but like cranked up to 200% then read this. bonus feels if you read the whole series

Until Dawn (series) by edaen - this is the long series where the previous one above is part of. highly rec if you love fantasy and you wanna read about bts being a rag tag group of supernatural beings fighting evil yay. also it makes the above fic more satisfying because you see more of jikook just being tgt and in love (with bonus angst because of course)

7 Signs by NamHyora - 27k words, secret spies au, abo, alpha!jk, omega!jm who is always used as a raven in their operations aka they use jimin and his attractive self to attract people and gather information or acquire targets and all that spy stuff, and his bestie alpha jk is not too happy about it hehe, friends to lovers, iove this one so much i wish it was longer but i think the author is planning to write a sequel!

Drop Like Confetti by annie_vi - 110k words, ceo!jk, age difference, age swap, ahhh i love this fic so much cause jimin smart and mature and has this no bs attitude, and he can keep up with jk despite the age gap and the difference in status/experiences, jk sexy dilf in this one eheh, i love it cause the drama/angst tackles a very real concern for such couples, like there’s no angst just for the sake of having angst, it really makes sense where they’re both coming from, they’re so whipped for eo too so love that for me

Fold it Up Like Origami by annie_vi - 99k words, gamer!jk, model!jm, same author as above and jk is so boyfriend goals in this one and in all this author’s fics in general like wow my standards are so high now i will legit be single forever just reading jikook fics (with no regrets), secret relationship due to their celeb status, well-written as usual, dialogues/banter in this author’s fics are just YES

The Tournament by kinkmins - 34k words, prince!jm, bodyguard!jk, abo, i’ll paste part of the summary here “Prince Jimin gets ready to hold a tournament where 50 alphas compete for a chance to court him, his father the king hires a new bodyguard who is a little too blunt and a little too talkative.“, i really love this oneeeee

Screwed Up and Brilliant by annie_vi - 113k words, escort!jk, jimin needed a date for a work event and in comes jungkook, escort extraordinaire with a no sex rule and jimin is just dasdkjfhasl, a lot of that “is this real or is he just acting” kinda angst, fluff smut angst

Like Everything Glows by annie_vi - 180k words, merman!jm, aquatic vet!jk, ok this is like my 4th rec from this author just read all their fics you’re welcome, this is their first fantasy fic but soso good, i rec’d this to someone who doesn’t really read fics and she really loved it and said “their love is so pure hhh”, she’s right

Track one: I love you by honeydice - 30k words, they’re “just” best friends, lots of pining it hurts, there’s some yoonmin and mentioned past jinmin in this so just noting in case, angst, denial of feelings, siiiiigh

InYou by edaen - 4k words, pwp :), abo, the morning after jikook mating, more sexytimes ensue + fluff

Falling For You Again by Rose_gold715 - 30k words, amnesia au, jk forgets about jimin and idk just something about this hits right in the feels. btw i don’t support the jk hated jm before in real life agenda so i don’t like this fic for that reason but i like this fic because i love me some good painful angst with happy ending.

The President’s Son by AmeliaBedelia - 55k words, bodyguard!jk, president’s son!jm, jk is assigned to shadow jm bc his life is under threat, and things develop :), jm is jk’s gay awakening :) :)

A Touch of Sin by pettey - 102k words, fantasy au, police officer!jk, supernatural!jm, shamanism, LOOK AT THE RANGE OF JIKOOK WRITERS YALL, this is such an interesting concept, so different from every other fic i’ve read, really well-written, sometimes you come across fics and you cant help but go “someone out there rly blessing me with this art for free”

Tears to the Tide by haromame - 65k words, abo, alpha!jk, omega!jm, honestly there’s not a lot of abo elements it’s focused more on jungkook having ptsd as he just came from war, established relationship jikook, he comes back home to jimin and things have just... changed. except their love ok THEY LOVE EO SO MUCH this made me cry so f much ugh so good tho.

Zero Hour by edaen - 5k words, canon compliant, a little drabble based around rosebowl jikook, it’s part of a series/collection of canon compliant jikook so if you’re looking for more canon compliant here you go!!, also if you can’t tell already i tend to like several things from a single author, i haven’t read their other fics im legit saving for sad days but i am confident enough to say their other fics are also rec-worthy.

Wonder by wordcouture - 7k words, im sorry in advance, mcd :( pls take care of yourself, i don’t like sad endings ok i don’t, but this is so popular and i was like, ok let’s see what the hype is all about, i get it now, :((((((((((((((((((((, well-written tho, bc the author will manage to crush your heart in just 7k words ha ha

The Omega Revolution by PinkBTS  - 158k words, abo, alpha!jk omega!jm, dystopian au, the hunger games more specifically mockingjay vibes, angst with happy ending but there’s some...things... lost along the way and i think that’s realistic for a dystopian war au, well-written

Blind Switch - 226k words, jockey!jk, rich spoiled brat!jm, jm gets exiled to his grandparents ranch where he meets jk yeehaw, im sorry for the yeehaw, anyway fluff smut angst enemies friends to lovers hurt/comfort slow burn happy ending, all the good stuff, ugh jk so boyfriend goals, also the amount of fluff in the later chapters thank u writer

Finally by Rose_gold715 - 12k words, abo, alpha!jk, omega!jm, angst with happy ending, jikook mate out of convenience and jimin runs away from jk and his pack feeling unloved and outcasted, but jungkook goes after him :((

Park Jimin’s Guide to Good Housekeeping by Ashlyn17 - 235k words, fantasy au, when i say jikook has the best fic writers i mean jikook has the best fic writers because THE WORLD-BUILDING in this one?, THE PLOT TWIST?, yesyesyes, jungkook is a powerful fae and jimin is assigned to be his housekeeper hehe, listen my entire fic rec has several that could be great netflix shows and this is definitely one of them

A Spell That Reminds Me of Your Name by Chimneycricket - 42k words, wizards!au, enemies to friends to lovers and the development felt natural, well-written plus the author sometimes makes art of their fics and other jikook fics and posts on twitter, both their fics and art are so good, i’ve heard good stuff about their other fics too :)

that’s it for now!

just a quick one about my preferences: idc about tops/bottoms, i read just about anything but i prefer fantasy and multi-chaptered fics, i love established relationship jikook so hmu with recs anytime, i don’t like reading anything with cheating and mcd, i love fics where jk and jm are just so friggin in love they are just IT for eo, and at the end of the day even if there are elements to the fics i wouldn’t normally read, as long as they’re well-written then i’m all for it

[starglow-xx]

(About the brother!atsushi) aRE YOU READING MY MIND MISS?! Because that has been on my mind for MONTHS. TYSM For writing it was amazing!! If you don't mind, may I request (if requests are open) atsushi, still an older brother, but with a sister that's 10-13 yrs old? It's totally fine if you don't wanna do it. Keep up the good stories, ily mwuah!

*sobs* you’re so kind thank youu 🤧🤧

i wrote this a bit differently i hope that’s okay anon! at first i planned for this to be mainly abt atsushi and the reader, but i decided to add in relationship hcs with the agency bc i ran out of ideas

if you guys liked this don’t worry! im planning a special part two for this one so be the look out for it hehe

atsushi with a tween! sister

ft. the armed detective agency

like in my baby sister hcs, you’re still the most important thing to him period

the two of you got picked up by dazai and kunikida when he was 18 (obviously) and when you were 12

for a 12 year old, you were a bit small bc of malnourishment (which makes atsushi feel so bad) so both dazai and kunikida thought you were a bit younger than you actually were

they assumed you were about 9-10ish

you and atsushi both share a favorite food !! chazuke :)

so when kunikida treated the two of you, he made sure you got more bowls bc like i mentioned above, he feels really bad that you were malnourished and under weight

(don’t bring this up but kunikida felt bad too hehe)

when dazai went with your brother to the warehouse, you were with kunikida

imagine the surprise of the other ada members when kunikida came in with a little girl dressed in rags that popped out from behind him

kenji was the one who vocalized his thoughts 

“kunikida-san you have a daughter?! wow! i didn’t know that! :D”

when you found out your brother was a tiger, you were a bit concerned but you were actually kind of excited

you were even more excited when you found out the two of you were going to be taken in by the agency

anything was better than the stupid orphanage

and besides!

you got a tiger for an older brother and a bunch of other super powered agents to take care of you! who could want anything else?

at your age, you’re very impressionable and can be influenced easily so atsushi makes sure to teach you more in depth of good morals and the importance of kindness

his heart swells with pride and relief when he catches you being kind to others

pride bc he’s proud that even after all the two of you have gone through, you still ended up being a good kid and having a bright view of the world

and relief bc he hasn’t failed as a big brother

pfftt like he could ever fail

but please, from time to time reassure him that he’s perfect and the only big brother that you’d ever want bc he rlly needs that kind of validation

with his salary and savings, he tries to buy nice things for you

what a sweetheart 🥺

he saw you eyeing that one dress at a store window? fast forward abt a week and half and it’s inside a pretty gift bag for you

you wanted to try that dessert from the nice bakery? that’s dessert after dinner at one point

but other than buying you things, he sets money aside for you

like all the time

(y/n), here have this, you might need it”

“but nii-san you just gave me—”

“take it”

#1 spoiler

also your #1 confidant and source of physical affection

you tell him anything and everything (except crushies and those kinds of things)

atsushi loves it when you talk abt your day and he can see the big smile on your face and the sparkle in your eyes

it gives him the strength to keep going 😖😖

the two of you aren’t as touch starved as you’d probably think, but that’s only bc the two of you had each other

in your opinion, no one can match the hugs of your big brother

and it got even better bc YAYY he has tiger arms now ٩(◕‿◕)۶

if you ask, he’d carry you around too hehe

you also get nightmares quite often so he’ll always be there ready to calm you down, talk if you need to, and rock you back to sleep

god i love him 🤧🤧

atsushi will do everything in his power to protect you and make sure you get to grow up happy, supported, and loved

port mafia attack? oop he’s already taking you to the nearest escape route

someone is starting to harass you? they just got suckered punched into the next week

you want to go out to have some fun? he’ll go ask the president for a day off

you’re not feeling well? he’ll take another day off and take care of you

whatever you want to do, he’ll do it with you! (as long as it’s within reason)

will always be your #1 supporter! and he’s the president of your fan club hehe

he loves you so so much and will do anything for you; your life and happiness will always be more important to him

you are his reason to keep going

agency head canons !!

atsushi is your big brother, but kunikida is most definitely some sort of father figure

everyone can see it

except kunikida of course

kunikida scolds you lightly if he thinks your manners need work or if you make a mess in the agency

you listen to him of course and in turn as some sort of a reward, he’ll give you pieces of stationary

he always gives you the nice, good quality kind and you’re over the moon

atsushi adores it when you come running to him showing your new notebook or fountain pen and blabbering what you’re going to do with it

sometimes it isn’t even as a reward for being a good child; he’ll just give it to you and he’ll say smth like “i noticed you’ve used up your last notebook quite quickly, so here’s another one” or “did you run out of ink? here have this then”

he usually has a soft spot for children in general, but he most definitely has a soft spot (or a thousand) for you

yosano is kind of like a motherly figure to you

she gives you the guidance a mother should and goes on shopping trips with you!

atsushi always gets dragged along by you, but he thinks it’s worth it seeing you look so happy

yosano being a doctor also tries to teach the things you should know, or things that would be helpful to you

she’ll teach you the basics of cooking, sewing, how to treat a cold/fever, etc

also gives you excellent advice 1000% of the time

“remember (y/n)-chan if someone hurts you come tell me and then i’ll chop them into—”

“yOSANO-SENSEI DONT TELL HER THAT—”

fukuzawa is like a father to most in the agency but you see him more as a grandfather figure

bi weekly tea and gossip sessions hehe

along with cat talk!

most of the time though, it’s just you talking and him listening to you, but the two of you enjoy it nonetheless

“and then kunikida-san ended up crashing into a pole and dazai-san started to laugh at him and i did too because it was really funny but we ended up getting scolded—”

“hmm i see...”

he’ll let you stay in his office as he fills out paperwork; you’re usually doodling or drawing in your notebooks

sometimes he’ll meditate and you’ll join him, but 4/7 times you’d fall asleep

you always wake up with a blanket over you

dazai is like a cool but a highly concerning and kind of high maintenance uncle

frequently takes you out with him when he ditches work

walks in the park, eating at uzumaki so he has the excuse of treating you so he doesn’t have to pay his tab avoiding kunikida and sometimes chuuya and akutagawa, all that fun stuff

also tries to not talk abt suicide in front of you especially if it’s just the two of you alone

he knows that you mean the world to his pupil and that said pupil would probably hate him for putting suicide inside your brain

he teaches you random but useful things like how to pick a lock, how to steal kunikida’s notebook if you’re looking for some information, how to sweet talk your way out of things, etc.

is also the one to tell you that if you ever get a significant other to introduce them to the agency first

he always wants all of your gossip; some of them work pretty well for blackmail

“dazai-san! dazai-san! did you know that kunikida-san lost his glasses and he was looking for them for nearly an hour when he was just holding them the entire time??”

“woah really (y/n)-chan?! hey hey can you say it again into this recording device so kunikida-kun would believe me when i tell him—”

always ends up giving kunikida a heart attack when he says that you’ve been with him all day

ranpo is also like a cool but a highly concerning and kind of high maintenance uncle

will share some of his snacks, but don’t push it or you might not get anything at all

loves it when you compliment him

if you tagged along with him and your brother on a case, he will show off to impress you

“...and that’s how the crime happened”

“UWAHH RANPO-SAN YOU’RE SO COOL”

atsushi is lowkey and kunikida is highkey stressed that ranpo’s eating habits will rub off on you

“ne (y/n)-chan do you wanna try this highly caffeinated drink and this concerning amount of sugar filled snack?”

“can i really?!”

“rANPO-SAN NO—”

ranpo definitely does stuff like that on purpose 

the tanizakis are like siblings to you!

a weird set of siblings but siblings nonetheless

the two of them adore you and think you’re precious

atsushi definitely knows how to do your hair whether it’s long or short but he got even better at it when he asked the two

hehe braid trains are definitely a thing + kyouka and kenji (and maybe even dazai)

sometimes you have sibling swap days

you’re with junichiro for most of the day and atsushi is with naomi

strange i know

each of the tanizaki siblings try to make it fun bc they know that the two of you did not at all have a happy upbringing

junichiro likes spending time with you by taking you out to different places that naomi likes to frequent

like the mall, different stores and restaurants, the park, places like those

naomi does the same thing with atsushi so if you ever bump into them, you go out and eat together :)

besides atsushi, the next one in line who spoils you the most would be junichiro (and yosano & kunikida both coming in at a close third)

he honestly can’t help it; you remind him of how naomi was when she was younger

and besides

he’s always been a sucker when it came to the happiness of a little sister

“would you really buy this for me junichiro-san?!”

“of course! don’t worry about it” :)

wanna talk abt boys/girls/celebrity crushes things like that? naomi is your girl

you feel a bit embarrassed to go talking to yosano or your brother abt that and kyouka does not know a thing abt them either

“uwahh naomi-san look at all these people in this magazine! they look so good!”

“right?! but of course onii-sama is still the best—”

you get along with kenji and kyouka quite nicely being roughly the same age as them; they’re also like siblings!

just pure, wholesome vibes from the three of you

you’re over the moon when she finds out that kyouka is staying with you and your brother

atsushi is twice as happy seeing you talk your mouth off and finally having a girl around your age to talk to

“do you think demon snow can change how she looks?”

“hmm... im not sure...”

you and kenji talk abt anything and everything

he even teaches you how to take care of plants!

sometimes the two of you are kind of in the same boat bc you don’t know much abt yokohoma being stuck in the orphanage and kenji doesn’t know much abt cities in general

“wait where are we again kenji-san?”

“ah we’re close to the ports! but im not really sure how close because i don’t know what the symbols on this sign mean”

“don’t worry! neither do i!”

bonus things!

yosano was kind of too late teaching you abt you know what

“NII-SAN IM BLEEDING IN BETWEEN MY LEGS”

you’re sobbing in the agency’s bathroom and atsushi is panicking trying to get you to open the door

“Y/N?! H-HOLD ON LET ME GET YOSANO SENSEI”

ranpo overhears and cackles making everyone around him confused

suddenly atsushi bursts in the agency basically on the verge of tears rambling incoherent sentences abt the bathroom, you, and blood

it just clicked for everybody in the room

(im going to pretend that kenji has sisters back home so that atsushi is the only one who remain oblivious here hehe)

atsushi is genuinely confused and sort of concerned that no one is freaking out with him

yosano waves her hand saying smth like that she’d take care of it and junichiro pulls atsushi to the side to talk to him

fast forward like half and hour and dazai and ranpo are cackling on the looks of both of your faces

honestly not sure who’s more traumatized, you or your brother

“why does this have to happen” :(

“ne ne (y/n)-chan!~ you’re too young but at some point you’re not going to have it!”

“uwahh really dazai-san?” :D

“yeah! but first you have to have ANFK—”

next thing you know your ears are being covered by your brother and dazai is thrown across the room by kunikida

you know

the normal

you’re twelve and have never gone to school, but the agency takes care of that

it’s too dangerous to go to school so they teach you what’s necessary and whatever else they can

kunikida takes care of math (obviously)

yosano takes care of science/biology/anatomy/health (whatever you wanna call it)

ranpo even dragged poe to help you with english

atsushi even got lucy to help you out with english too!

as tanizaki and naomi used to be students, they give you their old work books and they try to teach you all the other subjects

sometimes kyouka and kenji are there learing with you too!

sorry if there’s some errors! i’ll read through it again later :)

and as always, reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3

writing belongs to me! please do not plagiarize! the reblog button is there for a reason