#can’t believe someone has such a deep cut on my takes thank you

[carouselunique]

i remember you criticised Resolution for playing into stereotypes about absent Black fathers. do you think doing a storyline about the Doctor abandoning his family (as touched on in The Devil's Chord) with the first mainline Black Doctor plays into that stereotype as well.

It’s complicated because I do think that’s a terrible stereotype to play with especially with the absence of black writers in the room which was a problem across both the Chibnall Era for the most part and the RTD II Era thus far (he has promised to change that however we can’t take what’s promised to be represented offscreen into account for what’s happening at the moment because we don’t have that yet…) and I do think this being touched on immediately is a case of bad timing, trying to marry the Chibnall Era with the RTD II Era and not having enough black voices in the room.

That being said, I also think there is a responsibility as well to not treat the character as being a complex being with years and years of story including mistakes just because they’re our first real example of diversity and I do appreciate that RTD II isn’t doing what Chibnall Era did with the Thirteenth Doctor and taking their Doctor and refusing to do interesting and complicated things with the character because they have to represent a sudden inclusion of a demographic. That feels offensive to me that because a character is representation we can’t do anything real with them because we’re not treating them as real people.

So in that sense I can see the throughline they’re trying to connect and appreciating that they are trying to reckon with and address the Susan/One situation because it did suck and also it does seem to have a relationship to the character background they’re setting up for Ruby. And I appreciate that they’re trying to give the Doctor his whole background for better or worse, not treating him as a full reboot but a soft reboot that still has a whole history and he IS this character. I just think maybe I personally would have chosen writers to reflect the character if they’re going to write this sort of thing.

What was bad about Chibnall Era doing this story was that they just DID IT and seemed to never address all the ways Ryan’s background was kind of… racist. Killing off Grace for Graham’s development largely, Ryan’s mother dead and Ryan’s father a deadbeat meaning his strongest connection was all about his white grandad. If the RTD II Era going forward does it’s due care in representing the story, then I won’t have the same issues with it.

[kedsandtubesocks]

seasons of you (year 1 - spring)

Farmer!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: it’s your very first spring living in the valley & you’re very sure Joel Miller already wants you leave

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, stardew valley AU, reader is a new farmer & has a family but no physical description, mentions of unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Joel is older & in his 50’s) very light use of gendered language, handyman & farmer!Joel, grumpy!Joel, wound tending & blood imagery, discussion of family loss with light navigation of grief, Ellie being Joel’s daughter, secret softie!Joel, alcohol consumption mention, use of nickname, budding romance

word count: 5.4k

a/n: our first ‘Joel’ fic for our stardew AU series! Here’s to starting this new aventure with y’all! I couldn’t have the strength to post this without @swiftispunk @lowlights @ahauntedcowboy @burntheedges @perotovar you angels don’t know how much I appreciate y’all and am so grateful for you babes…and to you, if you read this - I’m so thankful for you too ♡

No one in Pelican Town hates you more than Joel Miller does. George, the crabby older elderly man in town, might be a close second, but Joel has him beat by miles.

For someone so incredibly handsome, almost beautiful in a rugged wilderness way with his misty mountain gray hair and sharp lovely nose, his glare could wither your entire family farm’s field.

“He’s just an ass sometimes.” Your Dad had told you with a sigh over the phone. “Been that way even when your gramps was around.”

At first you didn’t want to fully admit it but yeah, Joel is a prickly cactus of a man.

He owns a farm further down the path from yours. You love walking by it when you take the long way home and getting to spot all the sheep roaming around his fields. He’s also the town’s handyman.

“A jack of all trades, more like it.” Pierre, the main store owner, snickered that to you while Joel was in the store fixing a light fixture.

After that Joel helped you set up your first fencing gate. Then he fixed your sink. And then your water heater.

It’s been a lot and you know it. You feel guilty at how bad you can’t seem to get a hang of this new life yet. Your grandpa did it, thrived even. You can too, or you hope you can.

Until Joel glares at you like you’re a bug ready to squash, then you feel incredibly small.

Once you physically and accidentally ran into him walking out of the blacksmith’s shop when he was heading in. You sputtered out an apology, but without a single word Joel walked past you as if you weren’t even worth his time.

One night you went to the town’s saloon hoping to maybe mingle and get to know everyone better. But simply seeing him sitting inside made you turn on your heels and scramble out.

From that point on you’ve been avoiding him.

But now unfortunately, a few paces away from Joel Miller’s farm, your hand bleeds out a bit aggressively.

“Shit.” You hiss, slipping off your backpack to search for your mini first aid kit.

Yesterday you stubbornly tried fixing your fence and accidentally scrapped your hand pretty bad against the wood. Earlier you believed you wrapped it good enough but now the blood soaking through the bandaid mocks you.

“You alright?!”

The sharp accented drawl rings out loud in the early morning and fear collides into you.

Of course Joel hadn’t left for the morning.

You yell back that you’re fine but scramble frantic now trying to find the damn first aid kit.

“Is that blood?” Joel snaps, sounding closer, as his boots rush against the dirt.

“No, I spilled paint.” You grumble to yourself annoyed.

“M’old but I fuckin’ heard that.” Damn.

He’s much closer now, so close his shadow falls over you but you refuse to look at him.

“What happened!?” He barks confused.

Sighing, you give up hope on finding the poor elusive first aid kit.

“Just cut my hand, that's all. It isn’t deep. I’m fine.” You reassure him.

Joel sighs angrily.

“Come on.”

Now you turn and discover his soil eyes stare at you with such a steeled intensity you almost want to scurry away.

“Fixin’ this up inside.” He doesn’t even ask or let you leave. With one yank Joel Miller pulls you towards his farmhouse.

“I’m fine.” You snap back.

“What? Just wanna let it bleed ‘n get everywhere?” An edge in Joel’s voice silences you.

Any argument you wanted to hiss out immediately floats away the moment you cross the threshold into his house. Your eyes go wide. You never once thought you’d ever see the inside of Joel Miller’s place.

It’s larger than your grandpa's.

Joel deposits you into his kitchen. The lingering smell of breakfast, possibly oatmeal with its warm cinnamon notes, hangs in the air. Yet you feel like a caught feral cat that doesn’t know how to react being inside a house for the first time.

So you let your eyes wander.

Beautiful wood cupboards line the walls. A fridge is covered with various papers held up by sweet colorful cartoonish magnets you never would’ve expected from him. A worn cozy, well loved, couch peeks out from the slight view of the living room you spot being inside the kitchen.

Joel’s house seems knitted together by a rustic weathered comfort. Yet, there’s a hollowness to the house, like it’s waiting for more spirit to fill the halls. You can’t pinpoint or describe the stillness here in this place, but you sense it.

After rustling around a drawer, Joel yanks out a rather impressive medical kit. Largely bulky and intimidating, like him, it’s no surprise a handyman and farmer has such a first aid kit.

“How’d it happen?” Joel asks gruff and quiet as he rummages around the bag.

You tell him and his seasoned face scrunches up frustrated.

“Why didn’t ya call and have me go fix it?”

You thought about that. But you couldn’t handle the thought of asking him to help again, to deal with his frustrated sighs and gruff annoyance. He barely said a word to you last weekend when he went to check your sink again.

“Don’t need you to fix everything.” You tell him composed while Joel pulls out various things to wrap your wound.

“Besides, I can fix things on my own.” You add firm.

“Not all the time.” He replies.

You stay quiet and watch his hands, large and callous, gingerly dab away all the crimson from your cut.

He’s never been this close to you. You catch the faintest smell of wood and of something clean crisp, his laundry detergent maybe. It threatens to fog your senses knowing he smells this lovely.

“Y’dont ask for help and shit like this happens.”

Your face hardens at Joel’s words. You even childishly want to yank away your hand and storm off.

“Look I get it, you barely tolerate me and think I can’t do shit. I know I’m still new, but this was an accident. It happens.” Your words come out harsher than you intended, sharpened scythes that cut through the room, and Joel freezes.

“I don’t think that.” He replies clear as a spring blue sky.

You want to bark a laugh of disbelief, but instead you simply stay silent.

Joel sighs, keeping his eyes on the medic tape he readies.

“And I… tolerate you.” He sputters like he’s trying to muster the words out.

A moment passes. Then Joel sighs, ancient and heavy.

“Don’t mind me. M’just some grumpy old fuck-”

“Hey you’re not old. You’re just grumpy.” You interrupt trying to ease the mood and your heart jumps hearing him snort.

“M’old.” He clarifies. He is older, older than you, and that fact creates a strange flutter in your chest you don’t want to explore just yet.

“And…don’t want ya feelin’ like shit.” He continues with a curt softness.

You never knew his voice could sound this layered, so tough but tender.

“Just tryin’ to look out for ya like your gramps asked me too.”

There’s a strange apology shaded in his words but you manage to catch it. A rush of emotions drown you in their current.

“You were close with my grandpa.” You comment with a curious question lingering below the surface.

“Yeah,” Joel answers low now tenderly moving to wrap your hand. “His ol’ ass used to keep me in place.”

You smirk fondly. That sounds like your gramps.

“Miss seein’ him walk by this place and hearin’ him complain that he likes the sheep more than me.”

Joel’s fond and aching voice digs its hooks into your soul. You miss gramps too, so much.

“Used to fish a lot together out by the lake.” He adds.

This is the most Joel Miller has ever spoken to you and you worry the sun might fall out of the sky soon.

“I bet he out fished you.” You tease soft.

Joel snorts. “Damn right he did.”

You can almost picture it clearly, your gramps and Joel laughing together, having a friendship.

“He’d be proud of ya.” Joel mutters but his words chime clear.

Your attention flickers to Joel. He keeps his focus steady on your hand. However his words crystallize deep in your heart and you blink away tears. You ever expected Joel Miller to almost make you cry like this.

“Thanks…means a lot.” You truthfully tell him while you swallow back the heartache and love threatening to spill over.

“He’d also say you’re a fuckin’ stubborn thing for not askin’ for help.”

You snort at that.

“Well you knew the old guy, it runs in the family.” You reply.

Joel chuckles.

It’s small - like the faint flash of seeing a cardinal in the trees. But you heard it, his amusement, and it’s lovely for a man quietly layered as him.

“Alright, all fixed up.”

The wrap is tight, secure, and speaks of his many times previously doing this before.

“Thank you Joel, appreciate it.” You do.

“Can't be a handyman if I can’t fix up people sometimes.” He shrugs but there’s a deadpan charm to his words you’re slowly catching now.

“Doctor and a handyman, no wonder the town keeps you around.” So you dryly joke back.

This moment isn’t much. Yet it feels like gaining a good step in the direction of something right and solid.

Gathering your things, you decide to head out. Even though curiosity claws at you to take in a few more moments being inside Joel Miller’s home, you have seeds to buy.

“Where ya headin’’ to?” Joel asks.

“Pierre’s.” You huff. “Need more parsnips.”

He hums a noise of acknowledgment.

Back outside the mid morning sun’s warmth soaks you in its gaze. Maybe you could fish for a bit before you head to the store. After all, the weather is so nice.

“Hey.” Joel barks out and before heading back on the road, you turn to him.

He’s a sight on his porch. You think of the typical romance movies of the handsome farmer trying to woo the newcomer in town and how right now he puts them all to shame.

Hands crossed over his chest, his broad shoulders seem like mountains against the doorway, so striking and large taking up the entire focus.

“Don’t hesitate to call y’hear? Don’t fuckin’ care what it is or what it’s for, call me.” Joel’s face is hardened and serious, reflecting the unwavering tone in his voice.

Something heated crawls up your throat and makes you dizzy. You blame it on the blood loss.

“Besides, s’what neighbors are for, right?” He adds a bit awkwardly.

It hits you. He’s the closest homestead to you. You are neighbors with him.

“Alright will do, promise.” You nod and mean your words.

“Thanks again neighbor.” Those words tingle on your lips.

Joel nods and with that you head out.

You’re on such a strange high you simply float straight to the pier and fish. It’s comforting being among the crashing waves, the sea breeze, and the wonderful weather. You also think of your gramps and Joel here.

But by the time the sky starts to turn into a ripe tangerine you realize in horror you forget to buy more seeds.

You almost scream in anguish when you find Pierre’s doors locked. Accepting momentary defeat, you head home.

When you reach your porch, there against the steps a bundle of parsnip seeds and a small pack of bandaids sit waiting for you.

- ☼ -

Your hope to quietly enjoy the egg festival, your true first event here in the valley, is diminished when Mayor Lewis practically drags you into the egg hunt saying it’s a rite of passage.

His deadly polite politician smile said there was no way you could worm your way out of participating. So you simply start the hunt thinking of the strawberry seeds you can’t wait to plant once this is over.

You’re not overly competitive, but these eggs are getting harder to find. You want to finish at least with some dignity.

Besides the area around Stardrop Saloon you scan every inch like a hawk. Someone coughs, clearing their throat, and it catches your attention.

Under the shade of the building, nursing a cold drink, Joel slightly turns towards you.

Now instead of a hawk you feel like a surprised field mouse caught in his gaze.

Without saying anything Joel flickers his eyes a couple of times towards the corner of the building. Is he giving you a hint?

Heading to the spot his eyes vaguely guided you to, you discover a colorful egg.

You almost want to keep it as proof this happened. Joel helped you.

By the time the egg hunt ends everyone already seems to be packing up and the mysterious Mr. Miller has vanished from the commotion.

Abigail wins the egg hunt and you aren’t even upset. In fact you walk home feeling like a champion.

The next morning on the help wanted and errands bulletin board in town you spot Joel’s name. Below it is a request asking for a small pack of wood.

You readily answer it and drop off the bundle eagerly, a way to help pay him back for everything.

The pretty decent payment he gives you is nice but the crooked soft hint of a grin on his face when you arrive to deliver the request is worth iridium.

A few days after that he mails you a recipe. The letter is so simply Joel - a straightforward recipe then a scribbled JM below it. You hang the letter up proudly on your fridge.

Spring blooms more and more before your eyes.

You decide to take advantage of it by foraging for the day.

“Where y’heading?”

You’ve been taking the long way to the forest these past few weeks in hopes of seeing him again. Now that you’re not actively avoiding him, you discover, small town or not, Joel is a surprisingly busy man.

When you catch glimpses of him, instead of glares being thrown your way, Joel Miller simply nods acknowledging you. Comforting as it is to know he doesn’t outright detest, you don’t like how much you hope to run into him more.

Now he’s here sliding on his backpack while moving to lock his gate.

“Just heading to the forest, gonna forage and walk around for the day.” You answer him.

“Works out, hafta head that way myself.” Joel explains falling into step besides you.

Alone with Joel Miller once again.

The small talk comes - asking each other how your days have been, anything new or interesting happening. The heat is starting to pick up announcing summer’s close arrival. Thankfully it’s still not unbearably hot as you and him fully enter the woods.

Cindersap forest is tranquil. A beautiful glimmering evergreen haven you enjoy simply strolling through. You never thought you’d ever be here with Joel.

“No new crops coming in?”

“Nothing exciting.” You shrug. “I’m more upset that I didn't plant any tulips this season.”

“Those your favorite?” Joel asks, surprisingly curious.

“Not mine, my gramps.” Your memories of the farm might be hazy, but you always remembered fresh tulips in the kitchen.

“They’re for the fairies.” Gramps would tell you with a wink.

You were bummed after realizing Pierre had flower seeds and it was too late to see them bloom in your kitchen.

“Damn,” Joel sighs. “Ain't your fault. Pierre’s an ass and hides all the good shit, flower seeds included.”

You’re almost positive Pierre doesn’t do that, but you burst out laughing.

A giddy twinkling glee consumes you and fills you buoyant. He’s trying to comfort you in his own Joel way. And it’s dangerous how fast you’re growing to enjoy the company of this grumpy cactus of a man.

You move to snag a few dandelions and wild horseradishes. You make a face at one that smells a bit ripe and decide to leave it for the forest.

“You can eat those y’know.” Joel comments.

“Yeah so I’ve heard.” You tried your first ever daffodil this month. “A wild horseradish might be a bit too much right now though, but who knows. Maybe one day I’ll try ‘em.”

“My kid used to eat these all the damn time. Never took a likin’ to ‘em myself.” Joel grumbles kicking the disposed horseradish.

Kid.

“You have a kid?” You ask curiously.

Joel blinks to you and there’s a gleam in his earth eyes of something reserved slowly revealing itself.

“Uh… yeah. A daughter. Ellie.”

A daughter. He’s a dad.

It fits him in a way that you never would have expected.

“She doesn’t live here?” You ask but then quickly apologize for pressing the subject. Joel waves you off, casual and unbothered.

“She did, just graduated highschool this year. Wanted to do the whole college deal. She lives out west now.”

So he’s an empty nester.

Delicately, wanting to know more about him and his daughter, you ask about her.

Joel inhales deep then exhales slowly, as if an immovable weight on his shoulders rattles deep to his bones.

“She’s a headache, my Ellie.” Fondness trickles out of Joel a steady stream.

“Stubborn, damn near impossible to argue with cause she’s so fuckin’ smart. Got a good heart. Good head on her shoulders too, wants to be an astronaut.”

“An astronaut?! That’s incredible!” You exclaim in brilliant excitement.

Like the proud dad he is, adoration tugs at Joel’s lips.

“Yeah, been wantin’ to be one for years. That’s why she’s going to school.”

“She sounds incredible, Joel. You must be proud.” You earnestly tell him.

“I am…” His voice is thick, and you don’t miss the way his eyes gloss over distant and misty.

You decide not to press the subject any further. He instead does it for you.

“She loved livin’ here until the damn flower festival rolled around. Then she’d swear up ‘n down about how much she hated this town and was gonna leave the second she could.”

The flower festival is just days away. The town swirls in a controlled chaos for its arrival.

You laugh warm. “I’m guessing she’s not a fan of dancing.”

“Takes after me.” Joel nods.

“Ahh…so guess that means you’re not asking anyone to dance this year.” You comment lightly and Joel snorts.

“Ain’t danced with anyone in a very long time.”

A wistful ace now twists your heart thinking of Joel alone in his home, alone watching the others in town pair off.

“You gonna ask anyone?” Joel turns the question around to you and you almost choke on an inhale.

Not wanting to get flustered or react wildly you focus on the wild springs among the lush forest.

“Uh no. Don’t think anyone wants to dance with the newbie in town. Which is fine.” You answer.

There are lovely and gorgeous people in town. Some have caught your eye. However, you didn’t feel brave or interested enough to ask anyone to dance. And no one seemed intended to ask for your hand in the dance, and you find you’re not too upset about that.

Joel hums low, a sign you’re catching on means he’s listening without having to reply much.

“Hopin’ someone will ask ya to dance?” That question takes you by surprise.

You shrug not wanting to fully answer the question either.

Someone suddenly calls out to Joel from behind. At the edge of the forest leading back into town stands Maria, the town’s legal counsel and assistant mayor.

“Caught playing hooky, busted.” You snicker and Joel scoffs.

Maria yells out Joel’s name again.

“Can you come back to town and help us with something? Thought you’d be at home seeing how it’s your day off today. I’ve been trying to call ya but nothing went through.” She yells.

The service here in the forest was awful compared to the town, a hard lesson you’ve learned quickly.

But you also don’t miss Maria’s comment.

Joel had today off. Yet he decided to stay a bit with you. That thought has teeth and you can’t stop their bite from sinking into your heart.

Joel groans but doesn't hesitate to head towards where the assistant mayor stands. Maria of course spots you and a wonderful grin lights up lovely her face.

“It’s good to see you.” She calls out.

“You too!” You reply back thankful your voice is level.

Joel glances over his shoulder to catch your eye.

“Good luck foragin’. Don’t eat any weird shit.”

You sputter out a squawk at his casual comment.

“Next time I see you, I’m giving you a wild horseradish!” You playfully snap the ridiculous reply before you can even stop yourself, but Joel thankfully rolls his eyes unbothered.

Maria’s eyes however flicker curiously between you and Joel. Too many emotions heat up your skin now. So bidding Joel and Maria a quick goodbye you stomp back into the forest to continue foraging.

Now along in the woods, your thoughts still think of Joel. The bag of parsnip seeds, the bandages, and the recipe, come to mind. You never once discussed any of it with him or him with you. It’s something you keep locked in your heart, just like today will be.

Soon the day melts into early twilight. You snag a couple of dandelions and a few other forageables before deciding to head home.

Joel’s farm house looms quietly still with no lights. You can’t bring yourself to open the gate to his farm and walk up to the house.

So instead you place a few dandelions along with a nice fresh large wild horseradish on top of the mailbox by his gate then head home.

Even when you unwind for the night, you mind still feels like it’s snagged on Joel Miller, still there with him foraging in the forest.

- ☼ -

The flower dance, as strange of a custom as it is, is rather ethereal. So many vivid floral arrangements decorate the space with dynamic colors and the air even smells fresh.

The flower dance honors the legacy of celebrating the final days of spring. But it also is a celebration of love blooming.

“It has roots dating back to fertility rituals.” Demetrius, ever the town scientist, told you while you were chatting with him and his wife.

He was right of course. The flower dance is the opportunity for someone to extend a hand of romantic feelings towards another. Those who hope to participate in the couples dance, or possibly win the crown of Flower Queen, are dressed in glorious attire. Soft light fabrics and flowers woven into crowns create a scene conjured out of a fairy’s kingdom.

Compared to the others in lovely attire with flowers in their hair, you didn’t even dress up or change out of your messy dirt covered jeans. And the only flowers in your hair are actually twigs and leaves from cleaning up more of your property.

With no need to worry about someone asking you to dance, you instead simply enjoy the various foods prepared for the occasion.

“Be careful, the salsa actually has a pretty good kick.” You’re about to go in for a second helping when a gentle accented voice floats out to you.

Besides you is a man with the kindest eyes you’ve seen. Faintly you recognize his face and can recall seeing him around town.

“Tommy Miller.” He reintroduces himself seeing your slight hesitation and your eyes go big.

“Oh, Maria’s husband!” You fully remember her introducing him to you. But now something else clicks.

He’s Joel’s brother.

“Yup.” He grins proud at his wife’s mention.

You apologize profusely for not remembering him sooner and with a kind understanding smile Tommy reassures you it’s fine.

“Been a busy first month for ya, I get it. You’re a tough cookie handlin’ it all.”

Even though his twang mirrors his brother’s, Tommy already radiates a much different energy than Joel. He’s warm in a way that reminds you of a soft summer day welcoming everyone with his vibrant energy.

You thank him earnestly. “The town’s been good to me.”

A part of you wants to add Joel has been good to you. Weeks ago, you would’ve laughed at just the idea of Joel Miller showing you an emotion other than annoyance. But now you and him seem to slowly be warming up to each other.

“Don’t go stealin’ all the good stuff, y’little shit.” Joel arrives with a gruff grumble of a voice and quickly nudges Tommy.

Yet his eyes remained glued on you.

You also seem to notice how striking Joel looks in the crisp light jean button up shirt he wears.

“Speak of the devil… was just about to ask our new farmer here if ya haven’t scared her away yet.” Tommy jokes.

Joel’s face flickers with a scowl fighting to form but he keeps himself surprisingly composed.

Guilt sinks in your gut. You know he’s hard to read and you even feel bad for thinking he’s mean. Because you’re learning fast Joel is earnest in his own way.

“Nah,” you tell Tommy, answering for yourself and Joel almost. “His sheep are actually scarier than he is.”

Tommy busts out laughing and you grin. Your eyes flicker to Joel but see he isn’t grinning. Instead Joel’s handsome aged face stares at you guarded and you can’t read the emotions shimmering in his eyes.

Shit.

You might have overstepped and upset him. So to physically stop yourself from saying anything else you take a bite out of the delicious cornbread on your plate, wave a weak goodbye to the Miller brothers, and scurry away.

Now alone under the shadow of one of the lovely cherry trees, you’re aware of how new you still are, a fresh bud still trying to foster roots in this new ground. You wonder how your gramps dealt with this every year.

Soon enough, the music starts and Mayor Lewis claps excited ready to begin the dance.

At least this will be over soon.

The couples slowly sway to the soft melody then rustling arrives at your side. Gently your eyes turn to the source and you almost collapse seeing Joel move in besides you.

His eyes though stay on the couples dancing among the blooms.

“Could’ve at least picked better music to dance to.” He mumbles bored.

Your lips press hard trying not to smile ridiculous and wide.

“Could you imagine if someone played the wrong song?” You whisper back. “Like, some heavy metal rock song suddenly started screaming out?”

Joel snorts, masks it with a few coughs, but you did it. You made him laugh.

Golden soaked triumph fills you and it feels like the first morning you woke up and found a sprout peeking up from the dark tilled soil.

He’s a complex man and you’re barely even scratching the surface of him. But it’s a tender start you want to continue kindling.

For all the commotion and production given to the festival, the dance only lasts a few moments. It’s over thankfully fast.

“Bit anticlimactic.” You mutter under your breath.

“Yeah it’s dumb.” Joel deadpans.

Your lips fight from letting out a laugh.

Everyone claps joyously at the couples concluding their dance. You wonder, even as silly as this is, if one day maybe you’ll dance with flowers in your hair. But you don’t give that thought too much attention. Just imaging yourself next spring already seems so far away.

“Headin’ home?” Joel asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You hum, narrowing your eyes at the gorgeous meadow.

“I’m kind of tempted to maybe see if I can steal some of the leftovers but yeah, I’m heading back.” You reply.

“Tell me which food you’re eyein’ and I’ll grab it. No one will tell me no.” He offers and you laugh.

“Tempting as that is, I’m just gonna go home.” You wish Joel a warm good night.

He continues walking alongside you.

Your heart jumps until you realize he lives in the same direction. The chatter from the festival still lingers in the air even while you walk further away from the meadow.

“How do you deal with that every year?” You ask with a sigh.

“Alcohol.” Joel dully answers and you snicker at his reply.

“Maybe one day you’ll be dancin’ out there.” Joel comments like he’s trying to continue the small talk. But the suggestion makes you skin itch for a reason you can’t pinpoint.

You only reply with a simple ‘maybe’ and a shrug.

“I’d pay a hundred bucks to see you dance though.” You joke, but also quickly imagine Joel a picture of softness with a flower behind his ear resting beautifully among his silver curls and it makes your knees weak.

Joel however rolls his eyes.

“Next year we’ll just sneak in and take over the music. See what happens.” You offer.

“Now that sounds like a plan.” Joel agrees gruffly.

It sounds like a promise.

You bid him good night until his eyebrows crinkle so classily grumpy Joel.

“Whadya doin’? Ain’t lettin’ ya walk home alone, sprout. Now come on.”

He continues walking as if nothing while your mind tries to recover being tilted on its axis for a bit.

Joel is walking you home.

And he called you sprout.

You want to cradle this new nickname so tenderly in your hands.

Joel quietly asks about your plans for the upcoming season, almost as if he’s trying to keep you focused.

To settle your flutter heart, you manage to ramble about the new incoming seeds you’ve heard about. You talk about your hopes of going to the beach more, not just to fish but to simply enjoy the ocean.

Among all that discussion, in a blink you’re back at your farm.

Instead of Joel rushing home, he lingers.

He checks your porch almost like he’s making sure the thing still stands.

“Hope one day to see that dang greenhouse up ‘n runnin.” He points to the broken greenhouse and you can’t help but sigh at the sight. You hope so too.

Then Joel moves to stand next to you on the land.

It feels different seeing him here.

Just a few weeks ago he was shouting every profanity known to man trying to fix your ancient water heater. He also glared at you the entire time.

Now he stands next to you suggesting on what to grow for the upcoming season.

“You could plant the tomatoes over on this side, give ‘em more shade to grow.”

Joel already reminds you of a back alley cat, one that hisses and refuses to let others near until he decides when to warm up to others. And, like a fresh new sprout, you want to soak up this warmth of him up.

“Also… Don’t forget to plant flowers.” He adds with a soft grumble.

“I won’t.” You grin impressed he remembered.

When you bid him goodnight and thank him again, you almost want to promise you’ll stop by with coffee tomorrow morning.

However that feels too much, like you might make the wrong move and spook him. But you do want to know if he makes it home okay. You can’t even bring yourself to ask him for his phone number.

So you watch Joel leave until your thoughts move fast and you blurt them out.

“Wait how will I know you made it back?”

Joel suddenly stops then glances back to you.

A very soft twinkle comes over his face and he gives you a crooked grin. It colors him with such a boyish expression. This new face of Joel feels sacred, special, and it steals your breath away.

“Hang outside for a bit. I’ll give ya sign, don’t worry.” He nods then melts into the darkness.

You stay frozen on the spot, not wanting to miss whatever it is. You wait, hoping he makes it back safe. Then out from the darkness, far down the path, you see it.

A light from Joel’s house blazes alive.

Then it flickers on and off, like someone flipping the switch a few times. The movement of it against the darkness even feels like a wave of some sorts.

You wish so badly to wave back.

Reassured that he’s home, you head back feeling as light as a feather.

Stepping onto your porch, something catches your eye.

Resting on the main railing barrier are a batch of tulips that were not there when you left.

Your heart jumps into your throat. You didn’t even see Joel place them there.

Delicately placed, the tulips so brilliantly colored sit warm and bright for you - the most beautiful end to your spring.

Though, in your heart, these blooms feel like something closer to a beginning.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 0

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there. Some dialogue's taken directly from the English version's prologue.

This world, it’s full of despair.

It comes in different forms, both big and small.

Even so, it wears down on the mind all the same, and can even take lives.

(I’ve been searching for a way to fight against it)

--

Ellis: Thanks for queueing with me, Roger.

This morning, Ellis had asked me out of the blue to go with with him to a cafe that looked like something out of a picture book as a “favor”.

In a space that was full of women, Ellis and I drew curious glances.

Roger: So, what the hell is that “thing” making people queue up so early in the morning?

The cafe recently went through some renovations and the first 30 customers would get some kind of gift.

Ellis: A tin of biscuits. It’s something Harry wanted but since he’s on a mission, I came in his place.

Roger: Haha, so that’s it. Then I’ll give him my share too ‘cause having two will make him “happier” than having one.

The man sitting in front of me’s been busy making people happy today.

Ellis: By the way, I had some business at the pub yesterday and a woman asked me where Roger was. I gave her some excuse because I know you don’t like dealing with that kind of trouble.

I’m someone that doesn’t believe in romantic love.

It’s something that’s not scientifically proven. If “romantic love” does exist in this world, then…

(It’s a dysfunction of the brain or a misunderstanding caused by sexual desire)

Seems like Ellis knew me well.

Roger: You’re too good for Jude, you know. I’ll buy you drinks as thanks.

Ellis: Yippee. Ah, I think I’ll get something for Jude. I’m going to take a look around, okay?

Roger: Do what you want. Pick what would make Jude “happy”. 

As I watched Ellis make his way into the store with nimble steps—

(...Hm?)

I heard a voice cutting into this peaceful morning coming from the flower shop across the street

Flower shop owner: The delivery was delayed due to construction? Ha, how typical for a female postal workers.

I couldn’t see the face of the postwoman that was getting yelled at from here.

However, with my ears that let me pick up sounds 100 yards away, I could hear her heartbeat.

It was unsteady, probably because she was scared.

(“How typical for a female.” …What a bastard)

(If it escalates, I’ll step in—)

In the moment, her dignified voice rang out.

Kate: My sincerest apologies! I will be more careful in the future. For now, will you please accept this?

The man who was yelling is taken aback, likely feeling guilty after her apology.

Flower shop owner: Y-yeah… As long as you understand. Just be careful from now on.

I heard her let out a deep breath.

(So that postwoman’s someone that tries to be strong… Not bad)

Ellis: I’m back, Roger….Is something wrong?

Roger: No? Wow, you bought a lot?

Ellis: I wanted to get something for everyone. I’ll ask Victor to make tea and we can all have them together. Oh yeah, speaking of Victor…He said he has a mission for all of Crown.

Roger: Oh? Having us all together’s pretty rare. Could be an annoying one so let’s try not to get hurt.

--

Having said that, it ended without a single injury or incident.

—At least it was supposed to until an uninvited guest wandered in.

The woman standing there covered in blood, looking pale, was neither cursed nor a target. Just unlucky.

Jude: Tch…That’s why I toldja to lock the damn door!

Roger: Haha, well I didn’t think we’d have a trespasser! She’s a naughty lil’ thing, isn’t she?

My ears picked up an irregular heartbeat.

(...This sound. …No way)

—But that hunch soon came true.

The lil’ lady called Kate who stumbled upon Crown was presented to the palace’s grim reaper like a main dish.

(Now that she knows some classified info, she can’t leave without consequences)

(Worst case scenario, what waits for her is—)

Then, the lil’ lady in her hopeless situation spoke up with a dignified voice.

Kate: I swear I’ll never tell anyone about anything I just heard!

Victor: Hmm…Hm? What’s this?

Kate: I swear to protect your secret. I-I’m a letter carrier, and we’ve been trained to…maintain strict confidentiality!

Victor and William: …

Kate: If you think you can’t trust me, then go ahead and keep me under watch until you believe you can! I promise I’ll prove it.

A brave and logical proposal.

However, despite her demeanor, her heartbeat continued pounding in my ears.

The sound that didn’t match the attitude—it had me convinced.

(Ah…so she’s the postwoman from that time)

Her loud heartbeat gave away her true feelings.

(“Please don’t kill me”)

Among the anxiety was the strong desire to live and fight against despair.

(...Nice. This lil’ lady could be interesting)

I didn’t feel any sort of love or affection, but I felt this strange exhilaration in my heart.

So I thought—It'd be a shame to kill her.

(Come to think of it, at that time…)

I did “hear” her footsteps and heartbeat when she wandered in.

I could’ve made her avoid Crown.

(But I didn’t)

(Deep down, I was waiting for “something”...which is probably why I invited this heartbeat in)

I could imagine how angry this lil’ lady would be if she knew…

Victor: Well, well, what a good idea! I think we can actually make use of you. Accepted!

Kate: …Really?

Victor: Let’s see…All right, from today forward, you shall be Crown’s own personal…Fairytale Keeper!

Under the command of Victor, the Queen’s aide who controls Crown, enigmatic position of “Fairytale Keeper” was filled by Kate, saving her life.

Roger: Let’s try to get along this month, yeah?

Kate: Of course, Roger.

--

Ellis: Hey, Roger. Earlier, why did you look like you were having fun?

Roger: Earlier?

Ellis: When we were discussing whether or not to kill Kate.

(...This guy can really read people)

Roger: Well…I guess it’s ‘cause it’s been a while since I saw something interesting.

Ellis: Hehe, I see. Then… Would Kate being here overthrow your theory…and make you happier?

Basically he was asking if I’d fall in love with Kate and be happy.

Roger: Ellis, you’re aware of my curse…right?

Ellis: The double-crossing hunter from Snow White.

Roger: Right…The queen had ordered the hunter to bring her the heart of the detestable Snow White. But the hunter betrayed the queen by letting the girl go in the forest and instead, brought the queen a heart of an animal. After that, Snow White met a prince after her life was saved…And now here’s a question. Why do you think Snow White chose the prince instead of the hunter who saved her life?

Ellis: Huh?...I don’t know.

Roger: Because that’s just how it’s supposed to be. Because there’s supposed to be a happy ending.

Not to mention the fact that this is reality, not a fairy tale.

A man who doesn’t believe in love and a little robin who’ll leave after the month’s up—the relationship won’t develop into love or affection.

(...That’s what I think)

(But then why does my heart beat weirdly when I look at the lil’ lady?)

[danikamariewrites]

could i request one with rhys x reader where he is so incredibly in love with her it’s ridiculous. He is such a simp for her, she literally only has to ask and he gets her anything she wants. one day she jokes about him being very generous and says

” i’m sure if i ask for a golden pony, you’ll find a way”

next day he’s visiting Helion and asks for a golden pony.

The ic even makes fun of how much he simps for reader. One day they’re all walking in velaris to go to ritas and readers strap on her heel slips. Rhys gets on his knees to fix it with no hesitation. The inner circle looks at him with incredible shock and their jaws are dropped. Bc in acomaf it says that he has sacred tattoos on his knees and will never bow for no one and nothing but his crown. it’s the first time they ever see rhys on his knees for someone. Reader doesn’t know ab it and just says thank you and they continue walking. After a while he confesses to her and she feels the same and live happy forever 😁😁

Only For You

Rhys x reader

A/n: this is so freakin cute and writing this had me kicking my feet giggling

Warnings: none

You and Rhys had grown up together, so his kindness and generosity was nothing new to you. Whenever you needed or even just wanted something Rhys would get it for you. New shoes? Done, he knows what style you like. Need new clothes? He has your size and his tailor knows exactly what to make you.

You had always insisted on paying you back but he never let you. Rhys would always say, “Nonsense y/n. I like biting you things so please let me get this for you.” You’d breathe out a sigh of defeat and cup his cheek. “Thank you Rhys. I swear if I asked for a golden Pegasus you’d find me one.”

Rhys cherished your warm touch. He loved your soft skin and how gentle you are with him. The High Lord was so clearly in love with you but he was too afraid to admit it. If Rhys lost you as a friend because of his feelings he doesn’t know how he’d go on.

And he didn’t forget about that golden Pegasus. It was your 450th birthday present and you named her Sunny.

Tonight you were all headed to Rita’s to unwind after a busy work week. Mor had teased you about Rhys while you got ready together. “He’s completely and utterly in love with you! How can you not see he is wrapped around your finger.”

You had just rolled your eyes and laughed at your friend. “We’ve been friends for centuries Mor. Rhys would’ve said something by now. I just have to deal with that.” Deep down you were mad,y in love with Rhys. You just kept telling yourself he didn’t feel the same way. It made everything easier. You two were just friends after all.

Walking to Rita’s you and Cassian were hanging on each other crying laughing at something Mor said about Amren. Your heel caught in a crack of the cobblestone, causing the strap of your shoe to come undone. “Oops, hold on a second, my shoe.”

The group stopped as you lifted your dress a little to asses the damage. Before you could fix it, Rhys was on his knees looking up at you with a small smile. “I got it for you darling.”

His fingers gently grazed your ankle, sending a shiver up your body. You watched as Rhys carefully buckled the strap around your ankle again. Without thinking he caressed your calf and looked up at you. You swear you saw hearts in his eyes.

You run your fingers through his soft raven locks, bringing your hand down to caress his face, holding his chin. Giving it a small squeeze you say, “Thanks Rhys.” Mor giggles and takes your arm, pulling you ahead of the boys.

Cassian and Azriel stare at their brother with their jaws on the ground. Rhys stands, brushing off his pants. “I thought you said-“ Cassian started. Rhys cut him off, “Only for my equal.” Cassian didn’t think it was possible but he felt his jaw unhinge more at Rhys’s confession.

Rhys started to follow you and Mor while Cassian stood frozen. Azriel came up next to him closing his mouth and patting him on the back. “I can’t believe I knew before you.” He said with a smug look on his face.

When you woke up the next morning something felt different. You felt a light in your chest, pulling you out of your room.

Getting ready you follow that pull down the hall all the way to Rhys’s office. You find him sitting in his armchair, seemingly contemplating something. You felt nervousness radiating off him. Not only could you hear his heartbeat, but you swore you felt it in your own chest.

Pausing, you place your hand over your heart. You slowly approach him. Resting a hand on his shoulder Rhys leans back into the cushioned seat, placing his hand over yours. Rhys looked up at you with a hope on his beautiful face. The light of the fire in the hearth before him highlighting his high cheekbones and perfect jawline.

Closing your eyes you took a chance and reached out down that new glowing bond. Towards Rhys. Towards unconditional love. Rhys gripped your hand tighter as he let out a shaky breath.

Opening your eyes you found Rhys’s line with silver. You blinked your own tears away as you looked at him with adoration. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he whispered. “I said I’d never bow before anyone or anything but my crown. That changed when I found you, my equal in every sense of the word.”

Rhys pulled you onto his lap. “I love you too Rhys,” you whispered back, “I’ll share that crown with you for the rest of our lives.”

[hyukalyptus]

happy birthday — bestfriend!taehyun x virgin!reader | taehyun (kinda) giving reader her first orgasm. NSFW/MDNI!

cw. joi (f. receiving), nipple play, use of sex toys, reader is a virgin and has never had an orgasm, masturbation, fingering, pet names (good girl, pretty girl, baby), fem/afab reader. notes. i'm reposting works from my old account. this one had a cult following and part ii is coming for kinktober!!! smut under cut. wc. 1.6K

“Don’t look at me like that…it’s not that big of a deal.” 

“No, I know it’s not,” Taehyun says. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you being a virgin—there’s nothing wrong with you never experiencing an orgasm before either. That’s not why he was looking at you like this. 

He’s looking at you like this because suddenly, you’re this untouched, innocent, beautiful woman sitting in front of him. And the image of you…fucked out like you’ve never been before, hair all messy, squeaking and squealing, hips grinding against anything would not leave his mind. 

The thought of it—you—plagued his mind over the next few days. He never thought of you this way. You’re his best friend. His best friend that fell in love with strangers at the ice cream store, that was talking to a new guy every time he saw you, that was always so scantily clad. That’s why this was all so unexpected. 

Being a virgin isn’t surprising…but you’ve never even touched yourself? 

Your birthday rolled around and you were still in your life-long dry spell, too nervous to ever take that step with someone else, too nervous to see what all the fuss was about. It can't be that good, can it? After all your festivities died down, Taehyun was still with you at your apartment.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get me a present,” you pout, laying your head on the couch cushion. 

“No, I did,” he says matter-of-factly. “I just wanted to wait until everyone else was gone.”

“Wha—why?” Your head bolts up, attention piqued as he reaches into his coat pocket for a small wrapped box. “Okay…uhm, thanks?” You chuckle awkwardly, starting to unwrap the shiny paper. “But you coulda just—” and there it is. A box with sparks and firetruck-red words, complete with a plastic window revealing a small, red clit vibrator. “Uh…Tae?” Your ears turn as red as the box itself. “I think you meant to give this to someone else?”

“No, no. That’s for you.” You’re in absolute shock. “I just…couldn’t stop thinking about what you told me, which,” he takes a deep breath. “I just felt, like, that was something you really trusted me with…you know, telling me. So,” he says, taking your hand. “I wanted to see if you’d let me make you cum for the first time?”

“You’re joking,” you snort, but he is obviously very serious about this. Big eyes staring at you sternly, eyebrows just barely stitched together, lips pursed. 

“Just let me help you through it the first time? Might make you a little less nervous.”

Oh, how did you end up here? Naked, laying on your back in your bed, Taehyun sitting criss-cross applesauce on the mattress next to you, reading over the user manual of this sex toy. He’d already read them and got a tutorial on how to use it in the store, but he wanted to double check everything. 

“So, go ahead and press and hold—”

“Wait, Tae?” He hums in question. “Um…do you think we could warm up to the sex toy?”

“What, you wanna, like, kiss…?”

“No, just…” you sigh. “Just tell me what to do.” Everything in him shifts. 

“Oh, okay,” he chuckles, wrapping his brain around every little thing he wants to do to you, but this…this is about you. “Squeeze your tit for me.” Slowly trailing your hand up your side, you rest your hand over it at first, the nerves getting the best of you. “Squeeze it for me, okay?” He says. “That’s it…that’s a good girl. You listen so well, hm?” It’s taking everything in him to not take over and fuck you right there, but he wants you to make yourself cum for the first time. 

See, that was the plan the entire time. He wanted to give you the courage and ability to fuck yourself. And that just makes you positively giddy. 

“Lick your fingers…rub them over your nipple.” You follow his instructions. “Try the other…which one feels better?”

“Uh…” you stutter, breathless words on the tip of your tongue. “The right.”

“Rub the right one for a while,” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice. “Close your eyes and take some time to just feel it…tell me how you feel.”

“It feels,” you start, “kinda weird.” Chuckling, you open your eyes to shyly look over at him. But you quickly shut your eyes again, because even though it feels weird…it still feels good. 

“That’s okay. How else does it feel?”

“Feels like…there’s waves washing over me,” you say, chest heaving. “Little waves.” And suddenly—you feel it. You’re wet. You’d been wet before, but this time, it was different. You’d done it to yourself. “Woah,” you gasp, rolling your hips. 

“That’s it…just like that, baby—oh, can I call you that?”

“Please,” you groan, throwing your head back. You found your hand traveling toward your clit. 

“Don’t touch yourself yet. Just keep rubbing that pretty nipple of yours, okay?” You nod, but this is torture. You’ve never felt this before and he’s making you hold back? What a jerk. “Now, I want you to cup your pussy. Just put your hand over it and let your hand rest there for a bit.”

You laugh out loud, “What’s that gonna do?”

“Just do it.” 

You shrug, following his instructions that you disagree with, but hey—maybe he knows something you don’t. Your hips keep up a little rhythm while your hand rests there, just teasing yourself. He was right. That son-of-a-bitch was right. It’s a teasing technique and it works. 

You let out this embarrassing whine and he says, “Told you.” You roll your eyes before— “Rub your nipple again.” 

All you can think is—”When am I gonna be able to use my present?”

“Soon, I promise,” he says. “Take your fingers and feel how wet you are.”

You do as you’re told and your mouth drops open. You’re absolutely, positively soaking. “Oh my god…” you whisper, a cocky smirk appearing on his face. 

“Rub your clit…just barely.” And you do exactly that—just barely touching yourself, which you’ve never done. So this is a big moment for you. And for a moment, you’re simply proud of yourself. You can’t pinpoint why you were so nervous to do this, but you must admit, it does feel right having him here for this. 

“Now, take your toy,” you’re eager—almost too eager. “Flip it on to the lowest setting.” 

“How is this supposed to touch my clit? Won’t it hurt?” It felt a bit too strong for you, but—

“No, it’ll feel good, I promise.” He broke his one rule—his palm graced your hip, but he stops himself before he could touch you too much. “Rub your lips a bit…” you’re so, so, so eager to let me touch my clit, please. “Do you even know where your clit is?”

And it hits you. No, you don’t. 

He chuckles, “So cute. Why don’t you try and find it for me, baby?” You start moving the tip of the vibrator around yourself, nothing truly hitting the spot. It feels…fine, but not great. You’re simply testing the waters. A little poke here—no, a little poke there—nope. That is until—

“Oh…oh…oh, holy fuck.” You throw your head back, back arching, letting out the sexiest moan anyone has ever heard before. 

“Find it?” You’re already gasping for air, gripping the sheets with your free hand. “No, rub your nipple with your other hand.” You nod lazily, reaching up for yourself and it’s honestly starting to get a bit too much. “Turn it up.” You click it again, and your hips start to shake. 

Something’s building in your stomach. You don’t know what, you’ve never felt like this before, but something’s about to happen. “I think…I think I’m gonna—”

“Stop,” he says sternly and you stop, taking the toy off your clit, thinking something’s wrong. 

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I just wanna build it up a bit,” he says. You giggle, laying your head back down and starting completely over. All the way to rubbing your nipples, cupping your pussy, starting off at the lowest setting of the vibrator while he whispers dirty things to you. 

Don’t you dare cum until I tell you to.

You’re not gonna cum that quickly, baby. You’ve got yourself your first sex toy and think you know everything now, hm?

Your first is gonna feel so fucking good…you’re so lucky you get to experience your first orgasm like this. 

It’s been an hour. An hour. You’ve been teasing yourself for an hour. Tears are streaming down your cheeks, your skin is hot, your hips have a mind of their own. The only thing you know to do anymore is beg. Just “Please, Tae…please, please, please let me cum.” 

You’ve brought yourself to the edge again—for the sixth time that evening—and you fully expect him to tell you to stop, but when you tell him you’re close, he says, “That’s a good girl. Go ahead. You’ve been such a good girl for me.”

“I can cum?” You almost don’t believe it. You almost cry tears of joy. He hums and you finally let yourself go. Your body feels like…nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s a euphoric bliss that has your legs trembling, hips stuttering, mouth whimpering. Everything just feels so good. 

And he praises you through every last second of it. “That’s my pretty girl, cumming so good for me,” he moans. “Just feel so good for me, please. That’s it. Just like that.”

You think you may have blacked out a bit, you’re not sure, but once you’ve recovered enough, you open your eyes to be met by his big, brown ones. “Oh, hey, Tae.”

“Hey, cutie,” he smiles. “Did that feel good?”

You’re laying on your side, still fully catching your breath, arm over your eyes in disbelief, legs flinching every once in a while. “Yeah, that felt…wow…thank you.”

“No worries,” he smiles. “Happy birthday.”

[ghostbustting]

Hey, I was wondering if you could write something about the fact that the reader has been James's partner for 5 years, and while they are at their friend's birthday party they argue over silly things but they both take it to heart, so the reader decides to make James jealous with x man (nothing too far-fetched) then James gets really upset and takes the reader to his house and they have rough sex (where James takes out his annoyance on the reader) And by the way, let it end with some good ending.

I imagined this scenario with James 1998, when he becomes beefier 🤭.

thank u anon, I shall say the word "beefier" on a daily basis now.

╰┈➤“𝑫𝑶𝑵'𝑻 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑲𝑵𝑶𝑾

𝒀𝑶𝑼'𝑹𝑬 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑬 .ᐣ„ ๋࣭⭑

‘98!James Hetfield x Reader

Contains smut.

Hand in hand, James and I carefully step into the bar that we were told to go to by his bandmate Kirk and his wife Lani, finding all of our friends and some faces we haven’t recognized yet all gathered around the bar to celebrate the guitarist’s wife’s 27th birthday.

Smiles are on everyone’s face while I release James’ hand in order to pull Lani into a warm embrace, “Happy birthday!” I congratulate her, pecking her cheek and stepping back, watching as James congratulate her as well.

Kirk stood by her side with an even wider smile than I usually see on him daily, it warms my heart to see how many love he have as his eyes stays on Lani, seemingly mesmerized by her.

James and I stood back with the others as someone brings in Lani’s birthday cake, I feel his arm around me as he kiss my head, making me lean against him as we watch her make a wish and blow the candles.

Then, Kirk wrap his arms around her and kiss her passionately before exclaiming to the crowd, “Happy birthday to this amazing wife of mine!!” His cheeky smile spreads to Lani’s own face as everyone cheer.

I watch the look they share with each other, my eyes slowly falling to the wedding rings on their fingers.. then to my own empty finger.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot of how Kirk and Lani had only been dating each other for one year only, yet they have already gotten married not long ago in January.

I can’t help but compare the both of them and their marriage to my five year relationship with James.

We’ve been together for so long, yet only ever keeping things as boyfriend and girlfriend. Sure, maybe it means he’s extremely loyal. But is it wrong if I just want to make things even more serious with him? I only ever wanted to be tied to him by an unbreakable vow and strengthen our love.

James and I sit down with the rest, drinking. My eyes slowly gaze upon him, the smile on his face as someone make a crappy joke. I feel the need to try to talk about it to him, finding the couple in front of us as a perfect topic starter.

I wait patiently for the perfect moment, clearing my throat as he drink. “Hey, James?” I slowly call out to him. His blue eyes look over at me and he grin, “Yea, baby?” He place the glass of drink back down on the table.

Taking deep breaths, I slowly speak. “So.. Kirk and Lani make a pretty couple, right..? Can’t believe they’re already 11 months into marriage.”

“Yeah, but eh that’s love.” He answer casually.

I look down and sigh, “I um.. Well, what about us..?” I start again, he look at me with a raised eyebrow, a small hint of confusion on his face. “We’ve been dating for five years now, so I’m wondering—”

“God..” He mutter and sigh, taking another sip of his glass.

I cut myself off when I hear this, a bit surprised by his attitude. “Excuse me?” I lean back in my seat and furrow my eyebrows, “What’s with the sigh?” I ask, sounding a bit offended.

He drowned his drink and sigh as he swallow the liquid, setting the glass down. He slowly turn his gaze towards me, shrugging. “Look, I love you and you love me. Isn’t that enough luck for you?”

“Luck? That’s what you call our love? Not fate?”

He groaned and run a hand through his blond hair, “I don’t mean it like that! I’m just saying, we don’t need to concern about marriage as long as we love each other.” He rambled out, rolling his eyes.

Though his words are partially correct, it’s his attitude that bugs me. “But don’t you think we should start a family? It’s been five years, James. Five goddamn years—” But then he cut me off yet again.

“Yea you said that already. Besides, you’re already a family to me like I probably am to you.”

“But—”

“Can you just stop thinking about it? It’s a fucking birthday party, not a couple counseling.”

Feeling sick of his attitude, I sigh and stand up from my chair. “Where do you think you’re going?” James ask me, a hint of surprise in his voice. Instead, I simply shrug him off and take my glass with me as I walk away to another side of the bar.

I didn’t know why, but knowing he reject the very thought of creating an actual family, tying an ever tighter bond between us, making our love even more true, breaks my heart. I know he’s probably not ready yet. I know I’m supposed to accept his choice.

But I can’t stand the fact all of my friends had to shove their wedding rings in front of my face.

Sliding into a stool, I sigh and place my glass on the bar counter. I rest my elbow on the counter as I bury my face in my hands, rethinking the situation in my head. I find his harsh responses to be terribly unnecessary, he could’ve just responded with a softer response and try patiently to make me understand.

That’s when I hear someone slipping into the stool that was placed next to the one I’m currently sitting on. My eyes slowly peek through my fingers to see the mystery person, finding a guy I have never seen before. To be fair, I don’t know most faces here.

“Hey there.” He greeted me, a charming smile on his face, his arms resting on the counter as he tilt his head and look at me with those chocolate eyes.

“Hello..” I answer hesitantly.

Eventually, I discover that he was a close friend of Lani back then. He’s actually quite a nice and charismatic man, his style is a huge contrast to James’, yet no less intriguing. His brown eyes always looking serious whenever I speak, appreciating every letter that enters his ears. But of course.. there wasn’t any real special interest I have for him.

As he speak, I glance around the bar a little, a smile on my face now as he have lifted up my mood again. It didn’t took long before I notice the cold jealous eyes from across the bar that belongs to none other than my one and only boyfriend, James Hetfield.

Usually, it was a danger to play with fire when the James you’re dealing with is this type of James. But seeing the way his eyes sends daggers into the guy in front of me, the way his fingers grip his glass tightly to the point it seems like it’s about to shatter, the look of jealousy in his face..

I can’t help but grin to myself before I turn to the guy again.

Leaning slightly closer to the guy, I start talking more with him, making sure to laugh at a shitty joke he slip in that I’d probably actually call cringe if only I wasn’t testing James.

I put on my most stupid smile an twirl a piece of hair around my index finger as I listen to this guy ramble about something I surely and never will partake any interest in. He was definitely not James. He doesn’t share the same interest as the ones that James and I would talk about nonstop almost everyday of every year.

Bored, I take my glass of drink and take a sip of it. That’s when.. I feel a hand harshly grip my arm and tug on it.

When I turn my head, I was met by a stern looking James. It’s hard to tell what emotion was exactly built up inside those icy cold blue eyes of his, whether it’s jealousy, anger, annoyance, or everything in once. Nevertheless, the way his eyes immediately stare right into my soul gave my heart a quick pang of shock.

“Wha—”

“We’re leaving.”

“But—”

“No.”

Before I can say another word, he just drag me by my arm out of my seat and out of that bar, simply yelling to his friends; “See you, man!”

I was forced to stay silent as he bring us over to our car and push me into the passenger seat before jogging to the other side of the car and get into the driver seat. I look at him cautiously as I slowly relax into the seat.

The ride to his house was filled with tension, he didn’t even spoke a word or glance a bit at me, yet he kept his hand on my thigh, gripping it tightly and even massaging the flesh every now and then, especially when he got pissed off by the other drivers on the road.

Sure, I planned for him to fully unleash his jealousy. But I never really expected him to be this.. intense.

My heart was practically jumping in and out of my chest by the time we arrive on the driveway of his house, I try to speak. “James—” Then again, my words fail to come out as he immediately exit the car and go around to my side.

He opens my passenger seat door and suddenly grab me without another word, throwing me over his shoulder while he close the door with his other hand. I gasp and squirm on his shoulder as he carry me all the way into his house.

“James- put me down..” I practically whined and grab onto his shirt, scared of falling and possibly hitting my head hard on the floor. I let out another gasp when he take his hand and land a harsh smack to my ass. I stop squirming and wince.

I could’ve sworn I heard him mutter something under his breath that I couldn’t really hear clearly while I watch as he close the front door and lock it, still holding me on his shoulder as he start to walk us upstairs.

I wasn’t quite sure what was happening. He was quiet. Way too quiet. All I could hear and feel is my own loud heartbeat while holding tightly onto his shoulder, I can smell the stinging but nice scent of his cologne filling my nostrils.

Even without being able to see his face, I can sense how he surely isn’t playing anymore.

Then before I know it, we were in his room and he kick the door shut before storming his way to the bed and technically throwing me onto it, causing a small grunt from me.

His bed has always been comfortable, the sheets has been a witness of all the love we shared in his room and on his bed. Innocently, and.. not so innocently.

His large hand slammed down on the spot next to my head, his face leaning down close to mine, just a few inches apart. “You fucking slut.” He spat, his voice deeper than I remember and his eyes colder than I ever saw. “You did that on purpose didn’t you?”

“Did what..?” I try to play dumb, though my eyes were slightly widened, intimidated by the proximity and how much tension he’s putting on tonight. I can’t help but press my thighs together, feeling an oh so familiar soaking spot on my panties.

“You know damn well what.” All of a sudden, he flip me over and push my dress over my ass, my eyes widening and I try to squirm out of my position of which is underneath him.

Denying my effort, he pull me back and keep me in place as he lift my hips up a little, pushing my head into the sheets as his hand lands harshly on my ass, leaving a red mark in the shape of his very own large hand, a loud gasp and a wince coming out of me. “Trying to make me jealous? That jerk didn’t even look half good as me.”

I can’t help but let out a small scoff at his statement, only earning another harsh spank to my ass. I wince and try to pull down my dress back, failing when his hand slapped mine away and hit again, even harsher this time.

He was mean. Always has been when he’s not in a good mood.

The worse part is I love it.

“Did you really think I’d let you go home with a dick that small? Don’t you know you’re mine?” He chuckle and pull down my panties slowly, I just knew he was smirking wide and cocky when he saw the sinful pool on my panties. “Dirty girl..” He mutter as he throw the panties away.

An even louder gasp leaves me when I feel his tongue on my cunt, his hands holding my hips tightly in his grasp. “James—” I was cut off by another spank to my ass along with a harsh suckle on my clit, I moan and whimper, hips wiggling uncontrollably as he work his tongue’s magic on me.

I can feel him spitting onto my pussy before diving back in, his groan muffled. He sucked and licked and bite and technically made out with every part of me he found down there. Every single one of those action never failed to pull out the loudest moan from me.

My visions turns blurry, the pleasure always way too much to handle every single time. I will never underestimate the power this musician holds on me. He knows way too much about my weakness. Perhaps, that’s because he’s the only man I’ll ever let discover the dirties part of me.

The moment his tongue slips through my folds, I lost it.

I was a moaning mess, gripping every part of the sheets that I could reach while he ate me out like a starving man. Yet his cock haven’t even made it out of his boxers.

“James please.. ahn.. more..”

I whined when he delivered even more rough spanks onto my ass, feeling the mark he left stinging and will surely make sitting a difficult task for me to do later on. Each time his palm meets my skin, more tears build up in my eyes.

A tight knot is felt in my stomach and the moment he gave a harsh suck on my pussy, I start to release on his tongue, moaning loudly to the point I’m sure these walls around us might betray us and spill my pleads for him to our neighbors.

I can feel him lick me clean one last time before pulling back, his hand immediately going to his belt and unbuckling it. “Who said you can cum? Hm?” He sounds breathless yet annoyed at the same time.

Hips back down on the bed, I was still recovering from my strong release, tears spilling from my eyes to the sheets underneath me, soaking it. That’s when I feel him tap his cock on my ass. “Hips. Up.”

What else can I do other than obey him and lift my hips up, though my weak state only allowed me to do lift it a little, which then James force with his hands to be up high in the air on display for him to completely ruin.

“I’ll show you what that fucking dickhead can’t give you.” He hold onto my ass before guiding his cock in with his other hand, immediately thrusting in a harsh pressure, meeting that one special spot in me right away.

I gasp and grip onto sheets, “Oh fuck!” I cry as he grab ahold of my hips and hold it still, his hips ramming back and forth into mine, his well-sized cock stretching me out and hitting all the right spots in me I’m sure he knows all too well.

His grunts along with the sounds of his balls slapping against my pussy fills my ears, yet they were no competition to my loud moans, they just keep pouring out of my mouth and might make me lose my voice later on. But I could care less. If this man stuffed inside me felt the need to take out his annoyance to me and show me who I belong to, I’m ready all night for him.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He murmured and deliver another hit to the already numb skin of my ass.

“I’m yours!” I moaned, “I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours!!”

“So you do know your place, huh?”

That’s when I feel his fingers in my hair, fisting it into a ball. I wince when he tugged on it and hold onto it as his hips move in a surreal speed, thrusting in and out of me in a speed of light. My lips were parted as I pant and whimper at the feeling, almost like a dog. It was humiliating. But at the same time arousing for him.

My eyes rolls to the back of my head, tears rolling down my cheeks uncontrollably, my hips try to move to his rhythm as well, adding to the pleasure. I slowly turn my head back towards James, finding him smirking smugly, still groaning with every thrusts. “Yea? You like that?”

He pulled me up by my hair and my back meets his chest, his arms wrap around me as he continue to thrust into me, my hands grip onto his arms as I lean my head on his shoulder. “C’mon.. answer me, baby.” He pull down the top of my dress now to pull out both of my breasts, cupping them in his hands.

“I love it!” I moaned out.

He chuckle and took ahold of my face, his lips finding mine in an instant, starting a sloppy and desperate kiss, our tongues meeting and rubbing against one another lazily. I whimper and look down when we pull away, “James.. wanna cum..” I mumble, breathless.

He bury his face in my neck and start kissing and biting there, a mark was made right below my ear. “Do it with me, baby. C’mon.”

With one last weak yet desperate thrust, we held onto each other and let out the most sinful noises ever as we release our load together. His cum shooting into me while mine came gushing out and mixing with his while he pull out his cock.

Too weak, I fall onto the bed and whine as I feel our mixed cum slowly dripping out of my swollen and used cunt.

He let out a heavy sigh as he fell onto my back, kissing from my shoulder, to my back, to the back of my neck, and to my other shoulder. I just hum tiredly, appreciating his caring gesture in a small soft smile as I turn to him.

I lift his arm up and slip right into it, “I’m sorry for—”

“No, I am.”

I look up at him with raised eyebrows, a bit taken aback by his sudden apology and refusal of my own apology.

He shook his head and look down, his hand reaching up to play with my hair, a habit he does every aftercare. “I shouldn’t have said it like that to you.. I was being a complete unreasonable jerk. I should’ve told you I’m not ready..” He sigh and kept his head low with his eyes away, as if he’s embarrassed of himself.

“James..” I sigh and reach up to cup his cheek, “Don’t be sorry, please..” I whisper and kiss his nose, smiling softly. “What happened earlier is just a silly misunderstanding, okay..? I love you and you love me, as long as we have love and each other, the world doesn’t matter.” I spoke, using his own words yet with a better arrangement. My voice gentle as I paint his face with kisses, pulling out his own smile as his blue eyes met mine again.

“God bless your mom and dad for creating you.” He mumble as he tuck a couple hair behind my ear. I laugh softly and close my eyes as I rest my head on his chest.

[onlinesuzie]

☆ “you’re delusional, you’re like actually crazy” pt. 2 ☆

words: 1.5k

summary: Hamzah publicly mocks you on his most recent podcast episode, after confronting him, you are once again drawn back in by his manipulative affection but this time his words and actions are different.

notes: i’m literally addicted to this idea of hamzah i can’t stop writing!! thank you for all the submissions guys i love writing them!!

♡

You’re mindlessly scrolling through social media, trying to distract yourself from the gnawing feeling that something is off. It's been a quiet day, too quiet, and the silence from Hamzah has left you with a growing sense of unease. Just as you're about to close the app, a clip from Hamzah’s latest podcast episode pops up on your feed, shared by someone you follow.

Out of habit, you click on it, expecting the usual mix of humor and laid-back conversation that he’s known for. But as the video plays, your heart sinks.

“…and there’s this one girl,” Hamzah’s voice is smooth, almost casual, but there’s a sharpness to it that makes your stomach twist. “She was so crazy, man. Always checking up on me, obsessing over everything I did. It was like she couldn’t breathe unless she knew what I was doing every second of the day, and I’m like ‘oh my god, you’re delusional, you’re like actually crazy’”

The audience laughs in the chat, Hamzah still chuckling along to his own words, the sound grating in your ears. He continues, the words pouring out like venom, each one cutting deeper. “It was pathetic, really. I mean, who needs that kind of shit? Always making everything about her, so desperate for attention. It was exhausting.”

You stare at the screen, frozen in place. He doesn’t say your name, but the description is unmistakable. It’s you he’s talking about. He’s mocking you in front of thousands of listeners, turning your pain into a joke for entertainment. The humiliation burns through you like acid, your chest tightening as you try to process the betrayal.

How could he do this? The thought echoes in your mind as you replay the clip, hoping—praying—that you misheard, that it isn’t as bad as it seems. But each time, the words hit just as hard, confirming what you already know deep down.

It’s about you.

That evening, you find yourself outside Hamzah’s apartment, the anger and hurt building with every step. You shouldn’t be here. You should be walking away, cutting ties with him for good. But the pull is too strong, the need for answers too overwhelming to ignore.

You take a deep breath and knock on the door, your heart pounding in your chest. A few moments later, the door swings open, and there he is, standing in the doorway with that familiar half-smile that always makes your resolve falter.

“Hey,” he says casually, as if nothing’s wrong. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” you echo, incredulous. You can’t believe he’s acting like everything is normal. “What the hell, Hamzah? I saw your podcast.”

His expression doesn’t change, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—annoyance, maybe? He steps aside, letting you in without a word. You walk into the apartment, the tension between you crackling like static electricity.

Once the door is closed, you round on him, unable to hold back any longer. “How could you say those things? You were talking about me, weren’t you?”

Hamzah leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks at you with a mixture of boredom and impatience, like you’re a child throwing a tantrum. “You’re seriously mad about that?” he asks, his tone dripping with condescension. “It wasn’t even about you. You’re overreacting.”

Your jaw drops. “Overreacting? Hamzah, you described me exactly! How can you stand there and pretend it wasn’t about me?”

He sighs, as if you’re exhausting him just by being here. “Not everything is about you, you know. It was just a story. You’re being paranoid.”

“Paranoid?” The word struck a nerve. “You made me sound like some kind of obsessive psycho! And you did it in front of all your listeners. How am I supposed to feel?”

“Maybe if you didn’t act so crazy, you wouldn’t think it was about you,” he snaps back, his voice growing colder. “But of course, you have to make this a big deal. It’s always the same with you—blowing everything out of proportion.”

The anger that had been simmering inside you starts to boil over. “I’m not blowing this out of proportion, Hamzah! You humiliated me in front of everyone, and now you’re trying to gaslight me into thinking I’m the problem?”

He raises an eyebrow, his expression darkening. “Gaslighting? Really? God, you sound so dramatic. I didn’t do anything to you. If you’re feeling hurt, that’s on you, not me.”

Your vision blurs with tears of frustration. “You always do this. You twist things around, make me doubt myself. You make me feel like I’m the one who’s crazy when it’s you who’s hurting me!”

He pushes off the wall and steps closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. “You’re making yourself crazy, always overthinking everything. I can’t even make a joke without you blowing it out of proportion. Maybe if you weren’t so obsessed with me, you wouldn’t be so hurt all the time.”

The words sting like a whip, each one carefully aimed to cut you down. But underneath the cruelty, there’s a flicker of something else—something that makes you hesitate. Is he right? Are you overreacting? Is this all in your head?

You try to stand up for yourself, refusing to let him get away with it this time. “I could tell everyone what you really say to me. How you really treat me. Let them see who you are, you fucking asshole.”

For a moment, Hamzah’s expression shifts to something more serious, almost dangerous. Then he laughs, a cold, unamused sound. “Go ahead,” he says, but there’s a note of challenge in his voice. “They’ll just think you’re crazy. You think anyone would believe you over me?”

The words hit like a punch, but before you can respond, his tone shifts again, softer, more calculated. He reaches out, brushing your hair back from your face, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But why would you want to do that? I care about you. You know that, right? I love you sweetheart”

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. He loves you? He’s never said that before. The word hangs between you, filling the space with something heavy and confusing. You want to believe him so badly, want to believe that this is real, that he really does love you and that it’s not just another manipulation.

“Do you really mean that?” you ask, your voice trembling with hope and doubt.

His gaze locks onto yours, intense and unreadable. “Of course I do, my love. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

And just like that, the fight drains out of you. You feel yourself softening under his gaze, the anger and hurt melting away as you let yourself believe him, even if every rational part of you is screaming that this is just another way to control you.

Before you can think it through, he pulls you into a kiss, his lips pressing against yours with a possessiveness that leaves no room for argument. It’s a kiss that demands your compliance, that tells you without words that this is how things are going to be.

You kiss him back, the desperate hope that he means it overpowering everything else. The world narrows down to just the two of you, the familiar heat flaring between you, erasing the lines between right and wrong, pain and pleasure.

Hamzah’s hands are on you, pulling you closer, his touch rougher than before, as if to remind you of who’s in control. And you let him, because it’s easier to give in than to fight. Easier to lose yourself in the physical connection than to face the reality of what’s happening.

He guides you to the bed, the tension between you shifting from anger to something more primal. As your body responds to his, you feel a strange mix of relief and shame when he whispers in your ear, "Good." The words send a shiver down your spine, both comforting and unsettling, reinforcing the power he holds over you.

The arguments, the hurtful words, the public humiliation-they all fade into the background as your bodies come together, as you let him take what he wants from you, hoping that maybe this time, it'll be enough to keep him.

Afterward, Hamzah lies behind you, his arm draped possessively over your waist. You feel his breath warm against the back of your neck as he cuddles into you, pulling you closer. His lips find your hair, pressing soft kisses into it, as if to soothe the pain he's caused. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs against your hair, the words both soothing and confusing. Then, with a soft, almost vulnerable tone, he adds, "I love you." The tenderness in his actions and words contrasts sharply with the cruelty he's shown, leaving your emotions even more tangled.

But deep down, you know it won't be enough. The cycle will continue, the pain and the passion intertwined, feeding off each other in a toxic dance that neither of you can escape.

And as you lie there in the dark, Hamzah's arm tightening around you, you wonder how much longer you can keep doing this. How much more of yourself you can give away before there's nothing left.

But for now, you close your eyes and let yourself be consumed by him, by the illusion that this is love with hamzah, even if it's killing you.

[nat-20s]

THE GIRLS (FOURTEEN AND DONNA) ARE FIGHTIIIINNNGGG'

aka Donna has some lingering Feelings on the whole mind wipe thing and she's gonna shout about it <3

The Mess That's Made of Us

She didn’t mean for an outburst. They were having a calm, rational, adult discussion, not a fight. She didn’t even want a fight, not really. But The Doctor, he couldn’t just let it go and let her sort out her big stupid feelings on her own. No, he had to needle, he had to inquire, he had to push. He had to say that “everything had turned out all right, in the end”, and oh, that so wasn’t the fucking point. Nearly choking on the words, she yells out, “What would you have done?!”

After he startles and she has a moment to be thankful no one else is home right now, he’s shockingly even when he replies, “You..you know what I did.”

She lets out a right and proper growl of frustration. Clenching and unclenching her fists a few times in an attempt to ground herself, she grits out, “Not what I meant.”

“Donna, I don’t-”

“I meant, you pedantic little-”

She cuts herself off, takes in a deep breath in and out through her nose, and tries again. “I meant if our roles had been swapped. If I had been the one to take that year away from you, if you were about to have an essential part of the person you had become stripped all away in a moment. How would you have reacted? What. Would you. Have done?”

“I..”

She doesn’t let him finish, collect his thoughts, say pretty words that would fix it all. See, she can push, and push, and push too, now can’t she, Doctor? Generally, Donna doesn’t consider herself a cruel person. Sometimes oblivious, sometimes obnoxious, sometimes inconsiderate, but not cruel. But she knows she’s capable of it. She knows, if she so desires, she can hurt someone. She’s not trying to hurt The Doctor, except that she is, not to wound but to pull him to where she is right now. To make the grief and the rage and the conflict be shared. So she keeps going. “It’s not the same though, right? No, of course not. One year out of a billion, maybe more, that doesn’t make much of a difference, does it? Like forgetting what you had for breakfast that morning, barely a breath. I bet it would’ve been so easy, for you.”

“Donna!”

When he says it, his face is hard, and frustrated, but not cold. That’s something she’s still getting used to, with this new-old face. He used to have the coldest rage she ever saw, standing like a stranger. Now, he doesn’t tend to rage at all. It’s enough to make her clamp her mouth and actually listen for a second.

“Respectfully, what the hell are you talking about? Barely a breath, easy for me? Do you really believe that our time together meant that little to me? Do you really not understand by now? I mean, look at my face, Donna. And this is the second time that I’m completely rearranged myself in memory of you! One day with you changedme. One full year with you? Rewrote me.

So yes, removing my time with you would’ve made a difference. It would’ve made all the difference in the universe. And I don’t know what I would’ve done. If I had to get rid of the part of me that was made from you. I’m not sure I could.”

Such pretty words. And, well, the face in front of her right now does suggest some truth to them. But she can’t quite believe them, and she can’t quite look at said face, so instead her vision drifts over to the Tardis parked outside their kitchen window. Folding her arms and staring listlessly, she counters, “Yeah? Don’t you think you would’ve, I dunno, blinked and gone ‘oh that’s odd’ before putting on one of those manic smiles and inputting the coordinates to Venus in the 15th century, and that would’ve been that?”

Out of the corner of her eye, The Doctor’s face goes through a rapid series of motions that she can almost sort out, before stopping at realization. Oh. She didn’t like that one bit.

“Ah, that’s what you think did happen, huh? You think I flew away in my box and had magical adventures and found someone else in a day. It would make sense, right? Start pallin’ around with the nearest redhead I could find, forget all about me ol’ mate Donna, it’s not like she was gonna remember, so why should I?”

She sniffs, and tilts her face up, and resolutely does not let any tears fall. She also does not look at him.

“Donna, there was no one else, not until I was someone else. You want to know what happened, after I lost you? I broke. And then died. There was no me without you.”

Fuck. He changes his tune then, and she’s pretty sure they’re no longer fighting. They’ve always lacked a talent for it. He comes closer, placing both his hands gently on top of her still crossed arms, and moves until she has to look him in the eye. He even throws in a smile. Damn him to hell, he knows it’s near impossible for her to see her best friend smiling and start smiling a bit herself.

With a breath that borders on being a laugh, he continues, “But you! You got married, and yelled at parking attendants, and had a kid, and you existed. And I can’t regret that, I can’t. So I’m sorry, I really am. I ignored your pleas, and I took some of you away, and I’d do it again. I’d do it every time.”

She lets out a sigh and lets her arms drop to the sides. “I know.”

Wiping a hand down her face, she mixes a huff and a shrug. “Honestly, Doctor? I think I’ve already forgiven you.”

With a nod, she stands up straight and tells him straight, “I think I forgave you the moment it happened. I just..I just need time. I know it’s been years but I’ve only been able to think on it for a week.”

“I understand. Hell, there’s things that take me a couple thousand years to process, so.”

Donna rolls her eyes and let’s out a small chuckle, before opening her arms and saying, “C’mere, spaceman.”

The Doctor quite readily does, and the hug fits just as naturally as it always has. They take a moment to breathe together, and Donna gets to listen to the comforting double rhythm of the two healthy hearts in his chest. The silence is comfortable and the sharpness has eased.

When she pulls back, she can’t help but ask, “Wait, second face? What was the other one?”

“Ah. About that-”

[anzulvr]

Hii!! Can you do karma with a s/o that's rly quiet but ends up being good with kids??

Karma x Reader whose Good with kids // fluff GN! Reader

This all begins when E class gets themselves into deep trouble. Attempting to train on rooftops while studying for midterms, what they thought was a genius idea doesn't go as planned. Okajima and Kimura jump down and fall on top of an elderly man riding his bike. The old man is hospitalized for a broken foot. He ends up being the caretaker of multiple kids at a daycare he runs, Karasuma goes to talk to the man on behalf of his students-apologizing with flowers and all.

Korosensei orders the entire class to volunteer at the daycare and take the elderly man's place while he rests his leg to teach everyone about helping those who are weaker and those they’ve wronged.

Okay yeah, Korosensei was pissed- Karasuma just spent 20 minutes bargaining and apologizing to the rightfully angered old man and the class was filled with regret, shame and dread for the hard work that was coming. You on the other hand were secretly hyped! You loved taking care of kids, their cute little faces never failed to give you baby fever.

Even though you and Karma werent personally involved in the training scheme you still had to participate as it was a class effort.

The days of volunteering roll around and each day progress is made.

Everyone has a job to do, Some of your classmates are helping the kids study others are in charge of nap time and many are cleaning the space and fixing the building up.

You look over to a group of kids entranced with a theater show Karma, Terasaka and Okuda are putting on for them.

You catch yourself staring at Karma for too long, and bring your focus back towards your job;

You’re in charge of looking after the kids when they’re doing activities, (everything is in rotations for smaller groups)

Your current group is painting and drawing to their hearts content.

You notice one of the kids, Jiro, seems really upset, His eyes are getting watery. You crouch down to his level and ask him what’s wrong.

“My drawing— looks bad, I can’t draw good!” He speaks through the hiccups that slice his sentences up, now the tears are flowing down his cheeks completely.

“Don’t say that… You’re so talented Jiro, I want one of your drawings for myself!”

You ruffle his hair and he starts laughing through his tears, “You’re not lying?”

“Of course not, you’re drawings are my favorite thing ever!”

“Really?! I can draw one for you to take home!”

“The great artist Jiro will make me a drawing? Thank you Jiro you’re the best!”

Jiro rushes back to his seat with a smile on his face ready to start a new drawing as a present for you.

Michi raises her hand, "[Name] look!! I drew you!"

"Awe! I love it thank you Michi, you’re so sweet!"

She nods as she points to the second stick figure on her paper, "Look! I drew Karma because he's your best friend right?"

"Yeah he is-" You're cut off, startled by someone’s voice you turn to look and there he is.

"I'm just your best friend?" He feigns disappointment, you laugh and shove his shoulder gently.

You point at her drawing and back at him as a show of comparison "That looks just like him- you're so attentive to detail Michi!"

"I don't know what that means but thanks!" She skips back to her seat overjoyed with the praise.

Karma turns back to face you,

"Who knew you were this good with kids, it hasn't even been a full week and you're already their favorite- after me, they love me more."

You smile "You wish! Honestly I'm not surprised you're good with them, you have a fun personality, but anyway how'd the play go?"

"It went great, they're Kayanos problem now. I’ve been wanting to come over to you- just couldn’t.”

“I know, I can’t believe we’re on opposite sides of the room!”

“Can’t believe you’re still alive, clingy.”

“Shut up I caught you glancing at me every few minutes. You should focus more on your performance.”

“Hey my point still stands, if you caught me it means you were looking too!”

“I wanted to see how the story played out.”

“Righttt, rate my acting on a scale from 1 to Karma.”

“I’d give you a 9, just cause the outfit was cute.”

“Not bad, where’d the last point go?”

“You’re acting sucked-” you pressed your lip in an attempt to hide the smile threatening to come out.

He scoffed putting his arm around you, “You should do it with me! Tomorrow were doing sleeping beauty, all you have to do is sleep while I smack Terasaka with a plastic sword.”

“Sounds like fun, but I wanna see Terasaka getting hit— can’t do that with my eyes closed.”

“If you do it I’ll ask someone to film it so you can watch later, and more importantly I get to wake you up with a forehead kiss.”

“Alright then, the video convinced me.”

“You sure it wasn’t the kiss?”

“Maybe a little.”

A child’s shout brings your attention back onto your job “[NAMEE]! Michi spilled paint on me!”

Michi stands up “IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!!”

Restful moments with Karma couldn’t last forever but even the noisy ones you appreciated wholeheartedly, now you’d clean up the colorful mess together.

note: sorry for any errors in the writing pls correct me if you catch any <3! sorry this is late still have many rq to go through!

[dira333]

Head over Heels for you - Denki Kaminari x reader

Denki can still remember it vividly, something he rarely ever manages to do.

First week back in school after the war, everything different and yet still the same.

He had missed half of the explanation on why you were a new student so suddenly, but he caught your name and the way the light caught in your hair. 

Someone mentioned you being quirkless - it might have been Mineta, it might have been the wind - but he couldn’t care less. You were beautiful, in an ethereal kind of way.

And sure, he had more confidence than Bakugo had anger issues, but he knew his limits.

He still didn’t know how he got Jirou to like him to the point she did - maybe it was trauma or something else entirely - but he knew when he was out of someone’s league and you and him were so far apart he couldn’t even see the horizon separating the two of you.

So what did fate do? Fate decided to put the two of you together for team exercises.

“Sorry, you’re stuck with me.” He apologized. “I’ll try not to hold you back.”

You laughed softly and the sound sent a shiver down his back.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Kaminari-kun.”

The mission, as their teacher explained it, was as simple as it was stupid. Get on top of a building, get whatever was hidden up there, and get back down in one piece. Don’t use your quirk.

“Ha?” Bakugo called out from across the field, clearly annoyed at the stipulation.

“Can you catch?” You asked instead, your eyes intense.

“Uh, I think so.” 

“Good. I’ll climb up and throw it down.”

He didn’t even get enough time to process your words before the whistle sounded and you were off, practically throwing yourself at the building before you, leaping from one story to the other.

Some of the other teams tried copying you, but they lacked whatever you had. Talent, maybe? Or some deep knowledge about how buildings worked, because you climbed them like you’d been born doing it.

They won that race and he still isn’t sure how you did it, not even now, years later.

-

“Denki!” Your voice is soft as you pick up the call, he can hear the smile on your lips. “What do I honor that call?”

He stretches in the small hospital bed, still a bit high from the pain meds. At least he thinks he is, because the air around him is filled with glitter and he feels like laughing.

“Didn’t mean to call you.” He says, voice a bit sluggish. It sounds funny so he says it again.

“Are you alright?” You ask, worry creeping into your words.

“Yeah. Can you say my name again?”

“Denki?”

“Yeah.” He giggles. “It sounds pretty when you say it.”

“Are you alright?”

“Mhm… They had to cut me open but I’m alright now. Said I could go home in a bit.”

“They? What are you talking about?”

“I’m at the hopsital. Hotspial. Hospital. What a word. They said I broke a bone. Can you believe that?”

“Do you need someone to take you home?”

“Yes. That’s why I’m supposed to call Kirishima. He said I should call him once I got out. He’s such a good friend.”

“But you called me instead?”

“Yeah. I wanted to hear your voice.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line and he blinks at his phone in confusion, calling your name.

“Did you hang up?”

“No, sorry. No. I’m still here. Do you want me to pick you up?”

“No, it’s okay. You’re busy. I’m just going to talk to you until Kirishima is here.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea. Do you know what hospital you’re in?”

“It has an s in it’s name.” He says. “And it sounds funny.”

“I’m sure you remember it, Denki. Tell me about it.”

“Your voice is so pretty.” He can’t believe he hasn’t told you that yet. “Everything’s so pretty about you. You wore your hair differently last time, I could have cried.”

-

He blinks against a bright light, his head a fuzzy cloud of pain.

“Ughhh.” He groans.

Someone presses something against his lips, he tastes water and swallows on instinct alone.

“Thanks, buddy.” He groans and hears a snicker.

“Sure, buddy.”

The voice sounds familiar but he’s too out of it to care for it, snuggling into the warmth of a hand on his cheek instead. How nice that his mother is here.

-

When he wakes, his leg feels like someone decided to play trumpet on it, blew up all the skin, and threw away the bones.

His skin feels clammy and icky and his mouth is dry.

The headache, however, is gone, and he can see his room clearly.

Someone must have cleaned it and he fears for the worst.

If Kirishima brought in Bakugo, he’ll never hear the end of it, because Bakugo must have opened the fridge - he always opens fridges at everyone’s house - and found the pound of Tofu that’s going to come alive soon.

“You’re awake.” That voice doesn’t belong to Bakugo.

He turns to see you, sleeves pushed up to your elbows, leaning in the doorframe.

He’s never seen anyone be this pretty in casual clothes but it’s you. He shouldn’t be surprised.

��What are you doing here?”

“You called me yesterday. So I picked you up from the hospital.”

“I was supposed to call Kirishima.” He recalls. “He said he’d be done with the mission briefing by the time I was out.”

“He was. He gave me directions because you couldn’t remember the name of the hospital.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry. How out of it was I?”

“How much do you remember?”

“I remember that the air was filled with glitter.”

Something shifts in your face and you nod stiffly. “Okay.”

He knows, instantly and because he’s been himself all his life, that he must have said something or done something stupid.

“What did I do?”

“Nothing, really.”

“You’re a worse liar than I am.”

You chew on your lower lip for a second, a gesture so distracting he completely looses focus until you speak up again.

“Apparently I have the prettiest kneecaps in all the girls you’ve ever met.”

He pales. 

“Did I-”

“And my voice sounds like someone filled the taste of hamburgers into words. Which was very creative, by the way.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” 

“W-Why?”

“Yeah, why are you sorry?”

He stares down at the blanket covering his legs and wishes for a villain to crash through his window, right now, right here. But nothing happens. Because villains can’t be trusted with important tasks like saving the dignity of a typical twenty-year-old.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“If you don’t feel that way, it’s okay.” You say, sounding almost shy for the first time ever since he’s met you almost five years ago. “But if the pain-meds made you tell me that you love me because you actually feel like it, I think you shouldn’t be ashamed of that.”

He shrugs helplessly.

“‘s not going to change anything anyway, right? You’ll still be too out of my league.”

You laugh, a sound he’d anticipated but not like that. 

You sound surprised, not disgusted and when he looks at you, you’re smiling like that time you partnered up. When he caught that stupid trophy back in UA and held it up for you to see.

Something like hope blooms in his chest and he cocks his head to look at you.

“Can you say my name again?” He dares to ask. “It sounds prettiest from your mouth.”

“Denki, you dumbass.” You walk around his bed and put your hand on his cheek. “Next time don’t wait until you’re on pain-meds until you tell me something this important.”

-

He’s still on crutches when their class assembles for their next get-together.

You’re half astep behind him, mumbling concerned “Be careful”s and “Watch out for that step”s.

Kirishima is the first to notice you.

“Hey! Good to see you! Did he give you any trouble?”

“Not at all.” You smile and let Kirishima hug you for a second before stepping back to Denki’s side. “He was very talkative though.”

“Did he finally confess?” Bakugo yells from the bar only to be sushed by Momo immediately.

You laugh. “He did.” You say and the whole room falls silent.

“He did?” Mina asks, coming to her feet in an instant. “And?”

You look at Denki who looks at you, before he knocks his head slightly into yours.

“Turns out she’s been head over heels for me all this time.” He jokes lightly.

Somewhere in the back, Ochako calls out a triumphant “I knew it. Pay up sucker!” 

They all turn to watch a redfaced Izuku press money into her hands.

Your hand finds his, squeezes it tight for a second before you release.

He’s never been that glad over a broken bone.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[run-little-hero]

TW // Death threats, a little blood

“So this was your plan all along,” says Villain.

Hero has nothing to say back. The beginnings of a confession are lost somewhere in the chill of the beating rain. It’s not worth acknowledging. Villain has discovered the truth exactly as Hero planned for them to.

They continue, “Get me to trust you, let you use me, make me believe we have a common enemy.” They step forward. Their voice hides beneath the pattering rain when they utter, “How blind I’ve been.”

Hero clenches their teeth, straightening. “Correct. But it took a lot of work to get this far, so don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Villain laughs. “Course. Should’ve known there was something wrong when you suddenly began to enjoy my company.”

“I do. Truly.”

“Well, that makes it all better.”

Villain has learned Hero like a language. Their structures overlap, their consonants and vowels the same. They are threads tied together, and Villain can’t find an end between them. How is it possible to know someone’s soul so intimately and still be betrayed by them?

Hero remains silent. Villain speaks up, “What now? Do you kill me?”

Their head tilts downward minutely, something only Villain can catch, as the motion tugs a string inside them as well. “You’d do the same thing in my position. You know it’s necessary.”

“None of this was necessary, Hero.” Making me care so deeply. Maybe they’re right.

But no, what else do they have if not their hatred, however feigned? Enemies in the eyes of the people, everything in the eyes of each other. Exploitation of this relationship has brought them closer, and Hero is thankful. Mirror images, they know Villain must be as well, deep down.

A spark of anger ignites in Hero, for Villain would dismiss them so easily. “It was. Betrayal doesn’t cut so deep for people like us. We can survive it. You’ve already assessed the damage and decided it won’t kill you.”

“‘We can survive it.’” Villain’s eyes burn hot, tears creeping forth. They feel like a fuse has been lit inside them. “You think I’ll forgive you when you intend to take my life? You think I’ll forgive you while I’m bleeding out?”

“Death often puts people in the mood to forgive. Compassion is more easily repaired than mortality.”

“We’re not like other people.” Hero and Villain now stand inches apart. “How do you expect to live without me?”

Hero locks eyes with Villain. “I think that will become abundantly clear once you’re dead.”

In an instant, Villain is pressed against the nearest wall. Hero is crushing their windpipe.

“D-don’t,” they grunt out. “You’re suppose t-to be a hero.”

Just as Villain begins to black out, the pressure on their throat relieves itself. They’re tossed to the ground, choking on rain.

“I’m saving so many people by snuffing you out. And avenging countless others.” They glare down at Villain, and it strikes Villain that this is the first time Hero has looked so furious.

Something about it is so amusing Villain can’t help but smile. “Don’t—” they cough, forcing the words to scratch their way out of their throat. “Don’t act like you care.”

“What?” Hero knows what Villain is getting at. They’re pulling an ugly truth out of Hero.

“You love me. For better or worse.”

“You’re a narcissist.”

“So?” They spit. “Don’t act like you care about saving anyone. This is about defeating your only weakness.”

Hero is silent. One of the best and worst parts of finding an equal is being known. Right now, there is nowhere to hide.

“I’ll still kill you,” Hero threatens.

“But do you have to?”

“Yes.”

Villain stares up at Hero, holding them hostage through eye contact. “What if I loved you back?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, maybe it should. Maybe you should reconsider your plan.”

“No,” they growl. Suddenly, Villain is knocked back against the pavement, pinned in place by the body on top of them. There’s a blade at their throat. Where did that come from?

They catch their breath. Excitement is their foremost emotion. “We can be partners. I’ll give you a life worth living. We can be together every day.”

“I know better than to make deals with villains.”

“You said we could be saved.”

Villain feels the sting of the knife cut into their skin, just slightly. Hero is shaking.

“I am saving us. I’m preserving what we have. There is no world for us out there. Not together.”

Villain finds the strength in their left hand, and reaches towards the blade at their neck. Their hand covers Hero’s trembling fingers.

“There can be. Please,” they whisper. “Aren’t we worth saving?”

—

snippet #6

[nicosraf]

i’m sorry that because of one person’s horrible actions you (and others in the space) feel they have to justify themselves and who they are. it’s grossly unfair and i can’t imagine how it must feel for you. i hope it’s a reassurance that we trust you and believe in you and support you. sendings hugs your way, i know this must be such a difficult day 🫂

Thank you.You know, when this came out, I didn't even think that someone would accuse me of lying, and it was actually a friend who warned it might happen. I said I wasn't worried; the idea sounded nonsensical to me.

I don't use Mexicanness as a marketing tactic in either myself or my books particularly. I'm actually pretty critical of "Mexico" in my fiction; my short story Midnight Invitation is about a mestizo guy sleeping with a white settler, and The River Boy is a pre-Colombian story. I have a lot of love for my culture, but I also critique it. I was actually interviewed last year on "latin fantasy" but I refused to shared the completed article because they cut out what I insisted they keep in: I think most of the popular "Latine fantasy" books have an huge indigenous appropriation problem.

I have a small suspicion that the main person who attacked me was Taylor trying to "take me down with them" because they know I don't want to show my face, but I've shown my face to other author colleagues and more importantly I think I have ways to "prove" I'm Mexican that aren't my actual body or skin-deep (ha) references to Dia de Muertos or Chocolate abuelita, how Taylor/Freydis attempted to do on their old race-faking account:

I have a tie to a specific place in Mexico with a specific culture within a specific time, with a specific language even. And culture isn't that vague aesthetic anglo-white people believe you partake in sometimes, it tends to come with real, constant material conditions.

And I can talk about those conditions just fine; I can talk about what Felipe Calderon's failure of militarization in Mexico, and I can talk about the issue of Mexican-American ICE recruitment in Mex-Am enclaves along the southern border. I can talk about very specific experiences of being told "Ta-ta-ta-tamaulipas!" by the border patrol. So on and so on.

I'm sorry for this essay, but I keep seeing "how does this keep happening that the industry boosts a race-faker more than the actual racially-ethnically marginalized people?" It's because the industry (I'm including the wider white book community here) only want the aesthetic of diversity. They want a white experience and white understanding in a racialized trenchcoat and that's exactly what a racefaker is.

It's been difficult to learn that a friend turned out to be a complete monster and liar, but I'll survive this and laugh about it in time as long as Taylor doesn't bother me again. And if Taylor is reading this, I don't hate you. I just feel very sorry that you're spending your life doing this. Please don't bother me or anyone else again

[btsficsandsuch]

hello! if your request is still open can i request one for yoongi or jin about clumsy reader like she often get hurt like walking into a wall, burnt her hand while cooking, etc? and eventually hurt herself really bad & jin/yoongi took care of reader? just very fluffy fics please🥺

thank you in advance! i've been on bed rest for a days now bcs i broke my ankle and been reading your fics to stay sane i hope you keep writing i love your works💗

Sorry this took so long. I hope you’re feeling better by now!

I Heart Yoongi

“I can’t believe this.”, you mumbled to yourself as you waited for the doctor to come back and wrap your arm in a cast. You were currently sitting in the emergency room with your best friend after tripping over your own shoe and falling down a flight of stairs breaking your arm. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call Yoongi? He’s going to be really upset when he finds out you called me and not him.”, your friend asked. Nodding your head you replied, “Yeah he has a busy day today and if he knows I’m here the he’ll skip his entire schedule to be here. He’s always taking care of me and I don’t want him to get in trouble for me.”

Your thoughts traveled back to all the times your boyfriend Yoongi had taken care of you after you clumsily hurt yourself. Just last Monday you burned your hand while making you both breakfast. Somehow you knocked the pan off of the stove and instead of letting it drop on the floor and loosing your pancakes you thought it would be a good idea to try and grab the pan but you instantly regretted it when you felt the stinging pain in your fingers. Yoongi had helped you put burn gel and bandages on your fingers and then even cleaned up the mess you had made before making another batch of pancakes.

Then on Wednesday you thought you’d surprise him by bringing him a drink and some snacks to his studio. You had a cute serving tray that you filled with a glass of water, some snacks that you put in these cute little glass bowls, you made a sandwich that you put on a plate in case he was extra hungry, you also gave him a glass of his favorite whiskey as a treat, and then even though it was cheesy you topped it off with a single rose that you put in a little glass vase. Looking back all that glass was probably a bad idea for someone as clumsy as you but at the time you were trying to be cute. Standing in front of his studio door you were trying to find a way to knock while balancing the heavy tray. You took your hand out from under the tray and knocked three times before quickly putting it back but it was too late. The vase started to sway and toppled over which made the glass of water fall and ruined the food and next thing you know the entire tray fell to the ground with a crash and glass shattering everywhere. In your panic you were trying to clean up hoping maybe Yoongi didn’t hear anything and managed to step on a piece of glass cutting your foot. Cursing yourself you went to walk to the bathroom to find a bandaid but you were stopped when you felt a hand around your wrist and you turned to see Yoongi. Silently he walked you to the bathroom and had you sit down on the tub while checking your foot to make sure there wasn’t any glass stuck before cleaning you up and placing a bandage over the cut. Then he cleaned up your mess even chuckling when he saw the rose. After sulking for a little you walked out into the kitchen just as he was finishing up and he walked over placing a sandwich down for you and bringing one over for himself so the two of you could sit and eat together.

Finally on Friday you had decided to do a deep clean of the apartment. You were down on your hands and knees scrubbing the inside of one of the kitchen cabinets when you heard Yoongi walk in the kitchen. Excitedly you tried to quickly stand up not realizing just how far in the cabinet you were and with a loud thud you hit the back of your head on the top of the cabinet. Yoongi quickly ran over and pulled you into his arms and rubbed the back of your head. He sat your down on the couch before returning to the kitchen to finish up the cleaning job and put everything back in its place all while checking on you every few minutes to make sure you didn’t have a serious head injury or anything.

That brings you to today. You were trying to bring a load of laundry down the stairs and tripped on your bunny slipper (Yoongi always told you that they were a death trap for someone like you but they were so cute) and you went tumbling down the stairs. When you came to a stop you checked to see if you had any injuries and that’s when you felt the sharp pain in your arm and called your friend and ended up in the emergency room.

Thankfully the doctor finally walked back in, “Alright Miss Y/N. What color cast did you want? We have blue, green, red, purple, pink, and just plain white?” “Umm purple I guess.”, you responded without any enthusiasm. The doctor must’ve done this a thousand times because it didn’t take long at all and before you know it he was giving you the discharge instructions, “Keep the cast dry. Try not to over exert yourself. You’ll want to follow up with your doctor in six week to see about removing the cast. Also you’re probably going to have some pain so I’m giving you a prescription for some pain medicine. You can get it filled today at the pharmacy on the second floor.” You nodded and took the paper work before carefully stepping down off the table.

You were walking down the hall following the directions to the pharmacy but when you turned the corner you saw a familiar mop of black hair spilling out of a beanie and a black jean jacket. Turning to your friend you whined, “You seriously called him? I told you not to.” Your friend put her hands up in defense, “He kept texting me asking why you weren’t responding to his texts. I ran out of believable lies.” You then remembered how you had left your phone at home in a panic. Yoongi noticed you walking down the hall and immediately ran up to you carefully wrapping you in a hug. His eyes went wide when he saw the light purple cast on your arm before he gently lifted it up to inspect it. “Thank you for taking care of her. I can take it from here.”, he smiled at your friend. You thanked her as well and watched her walk off towards the exit.

Yoongi took the discharge papers and started reading over everything that the doctor had told you. Not that he didn’t trust you but he wanted to make sure he also knew everything that needed to be done. Without even speaking he took your non broken arm in his hand and began walking you towards the pharmacy handing the clerk your prescription and then taking a seat next to you, “Why didn’t you call me Y/N? I’ve been worried sick all day. First you didn’t respond to any of my texts and then I find out from your friend that you’re at the emergency room.” “I knew you’d come here and I didn’t want that.”, you replied. He scoffed, “And that would be so bad? Sorry I want to be informed when something happens to you.” You were exhausted and in pain and we’re starting to feel guilty for not only not calling Yoongi but now he was missing important meetings and whatnot and he was also mad at you and it all became too much. You began to sniffle, “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to worry. I knew you had a busy day and I didn’t want you to get in trouble for leaving. Of course I want you here but I didn’t tell you for your sake. You’re always taking care of me because I’m so clumsy and I jus-“. Yoongi leaned over and placed a kiss on your lips to shut you up. Then he wiped away some of your left over tears, “I’m not mad Y/N. I just got scared that you were in the hospital and I didn’t know why. You are always going to be more important to me than any schedule and I’m always going to be here to take care of you.” Feeling a little better you smiled and reached over to squeeze his hand. “I swear Y/N, I’m gonna wrap you in bubble wrap and then put you in one of those giant bubble things. I don’t think my heart can handle a life time of this.”, he chuckled and you giggled along with him.

The clerk called your name and Yoongi walked you up to retrieve your medicine and the two of you made your way to his car. After stopping to get some food you were glad to finally be back home. Yoongi was Yoongi and didn’t let you get a minute alone. Carefully he helped you undress and then wrapped your cast in plastic so you could shower. Since he knew you too well and he knew being one arm down would only make you clumsier he stood by the shower and helped you shampoo and condition your hair and he made sure you didn’t slip. After the shower he helped you get dressed and gave you another dose of your pain medicine and after following his nighttime routine he got in bed next to you pulling you close so you both could get some sleep after and exhausting day.

The following morning you woke up and looked over at your nightstand finding your pain medicine, a chocolate chip muffin with some strawberries, a glass of orange juice, and a note,

“I had to go to the company to catch up on some things I missed yesterday. When you get up take another pain pill but you can’t take it on an empty stomach so make sure you eat. I’ll be home around 3pm. Please just rest and don’t get any more hurt. I love you.”

You smiled as you took a bite of the muffin and that’s when you looked down at your cast and noticed some writing. You chuckled thinking about how at some point last night Yoongi must’ve doodled on your cast. Taking another bite of the muffin you smiled staring down at the picture of two cats sitting next to each other. One with a cast on their arm and wearing a ‘I heart Yoongi’ shirt and the other wearing a beanie and a basketball jersey. Slowly you got out of bed and as carefully as possible you carried the rest of your breakfast out to the living room to wait for Yoongi to return so you could thank him again.

[sociopathicartist]

Hello! I was wondering if you could make a headcanon of how Sans would act if his partner self-harmed, if it doesn't bother you of course. PS I love how you write and how you focus on representing their personalities in a canonical way.

Hey! So I debated for a while on whether I should do this or not since it is close to being against my request guidelines (no suicidal topics) but as someone who has dealt with self-harm issues, I know that it is not always related to wanting to commit to ending it. This was a heavier topic, but it was great writing practice to really get in-depth to Sans and his emotions and reactions. Thanks for requesting!

TW: Self-harm, Depressive thoughts.

Sans dealing with his S/O self-harming.

While I’ve made it very clear before that Sans is NOT emotionless and does have strong/vivid reactions, I don’t believe that he would react or take well to something like this. I mean, how is he supposed to respond? How do you react to something like this, the love of his life hurting themselves?

It was obviously at a time when you had no idea he would be home soon. He most likely came home from work or something, snagging Grillby’s on the way home since he wasn’t in the mood to cook and he knew it was his night to do so.

“baby, i got the good…”

His hand would pause on the doorknob of the door he had just opened, his pinpricks locked on you sitting on the edge of the bed.

“uhm… what are you doing?”

What is he supposed to do? Here you were, his lover, his baby, somehow finding in it you to hurt yourself? How had he not noticed scars on your arm before? Did you only wait until he wasn’t around to do this? Sure, he had dealt with depression back in the underground, but he just sorta gave up on everything and didn’t take care of himself. He never brought himself to the point of actually trying to injure himself in any way, more so just letting himself collect dust like an old artifact.

The bag of food is immediately set aside as he’s walking towards you, taking whatever you were using to hurt yourself out of your hands and putting it down on the mattress, not caring about the blood stains it would leave on the sheets, just focused on you.

What were you doing? Why? He can’t even get his thoughts out right now, just stuttering over his words before they can even get out and looking at your arms, your words that were apologizing and trying to soothe him just going numb in his mind right now. He had never dealt with this before or had any friends deal with this, and since you were his lover it just made it all the more worse.

He doesn’t want to call and ask anyone for help or advice since this situation is something very personal that both he and you wanted to keep to yourselves, so he just tried to help and comfort you like he did whenever you had a bad day at work. Once your arms are cleaned off and wrapped up, none of the cuts deep enough to require stitches or anything of the sort, he’s mumbling quiet praises in your ear as he runs his hands up and down your back, taking a bath with you or watching a movie, whatever you need from him right now.

Sans isn’t very confrontational unless he has to be, so if this is a one-time deal, he’s most likely never going to bring this up again. It makes him feel sick just thinking about it, and of course, he’s there to give you reassurance and the love you need, but after the night has washed away, the topic of the day's events won't be prompted by him again. Why would he want that to be a conversation? He might feel a bit woozy seeing you hold something sharp, or get a little bit more worried when you’re home alone and having a terrible day, but other than the extra ‘I love you’s’ and normal comforts, this situation will stay in the past.

[onthewaytosomewhere]

💚thanks ever so much for the tags my dears @sophie1973 @theprinceandagcd @henryspearl @myheartalivewrites @sheepywritesfics

@suseagull04 & @taste-thewaste 😘

so after posting that lil fic on Sunday I've moved right back to what I need to be working on ... my fic for the @ficwip dark & cozy event

so i played with a lil art for it and wrote some words last night so it's moving along (even if it has a fair bit to go yet lolz) (even if i really wanna work on the new liam/pez i started last night as well)

putting this all beneath the cut cuz a bit of art (still also WIP) and words shared today 💚

i'm really torn on these i really kinda like the coffee shop sign and not sure if need to work it into the title card or keep it so they just share similar elements and post both with the fic... or if i even really like the title card - i suppose that's why its a wip lolz

and now here's (wonderwall) words from the same fic 💚

“Thanks, Nora swears that I’ve become more of a klutz since the change, and I don’t need any more reasons for her to threaten to spend all my money on new cups for this place.” The smile Henry gives him as he hands the cup and saucer to Alex almost seems shy, and it should appear out of place on someone who’s lived as many lives as he has, but Alex can’t help but think how it makes him want to kiss him. It’s as if some force he can’t explain is pulling him toward Henry. He’s been able to resist the pull for the sake of not wanting to come on too strong, but really, it’s getting harder not to make a fool of himself over Henry. There’s a moment when time seems to freeze between them, and then Alex is brought out of it when Henry speaks, “Well, we can’t have that; you need that money to take me out once you finally work up the courage to ask.” Alex drops the cup in his hand, and once again, Henry catches it before it can hit the floor, this time setting it back on the table. “I’m sorry … what?! … how …” Alex takes a deep breath, begging his mind to stop acting like a computer that has blue-screened, and continues, “So, you’d be up for that?” Henry smiles at him, and Alex’s already fast-beating heart stutters, “Well, as good as your tea is, it’s not the only reason I frequent your shop.” “But, you’ve never said anything. Hell, you barely talk past your order most nights unless I talk to you first.” “To be fair, you never said anything either, but I’m not as brave as this moment would have you believe. I may have spent too much time around Pez lately, and well, if I have to hear him tell me one more time that I should ‘suck it up and say something so I could suck what I really wanted,’ well, it will be one more time too many, truly.” “Huh, so ‘ya vaaant to suck my bluuudd’ do ya?” Alex replies with his worst stereotypical vampire accent. He rakes his eyes over Henry’s body and waits until Henry takes a drink of his tea to continue, “There’s definitely a few things I wouldn’t mind getting my mouth on.” Henry nearly chokes on the tea, and Alex never actually realized that vampires could choke, but apparently, that’s a thing that can happen. Henry looks at him, blue eyes full of mirth, and smirks, “Noted.” Alex nearly falls over when the bell above the door chimes; so much for his Were instincts being strong when he’s lost in flirting with pretty men or … well, vamps. Before turning to the customer entering, he whispers, “We will be coming back to this later.” Henry gives him one of those damn enigmatic smiles of his, and Alex nearly tells the customer to leave so he can stay there flirting with him. However, once he turns and sees who it is, he knows that won’t be happening.

i'm just gonna slap some tags down here so if i miss ya and ya wanna do this consider this ur big ole open tag!!

no-pressure tag ur it! to @adreamareads @anincompletelist @blueeyedgrlwrites @caterpills @duchessdepolignaca03

@england-would-fall @firenati0n @firstsprinces @forever-fixating @getmehighonmagic

@heysweetheart-writes @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @inell @inexplicablymine @itsmaybitheway

@jmagnabo92 @littlemisskittentoes @mikibwrites @nocoastposts @priincebutt

@softboynick @sparklepocalypse @stellarmeadow @tailsbeth-writes @thesleepyskipper

@thinkof-england @tinyarmedtrex @typicalopposite @everwitch-magiks @cricketnationrise

@myheartalivewrites @porcelainmortal @eusuntgratie @bigassbowlingballhead @captainjunglegym

@cha-melodius @kiwiana-writes @judasofsuburbia @doublecheekedkinard @cricketnationrise

(i realize it's no longer wednesday for some of ya and some of ya may have already done this but - my fingers typed ur name so 'hi' if that's the case lolz)

[writersundersiege]

New Girl in Town Part 3

Rafe Cameron x F! Reader

a/n: Hello, everybody, so this is my first time making an authors' note. I want to place one on this one since I’m new to posting, and also, this chapter took me two days to write, considering I did try to go in and add more depth to my characters. I want my reader (aka you) to have a broader sense of the world. As you can tell, she knows a lot about stuff most people don’t learn, has been to places many of us haven’t had the opportunity to visit and has experienced things I can only hope as a writer is not something you have experienced. But for the margin of you who have experienced any of these warnings below, If you need any resources, please reach out. I will work on putting resources on my account later on or anyone to talk to; my messages are always open to you all as readers of my work. Feel free to ask me questions, give me criticism, or suggest things to the story. I want to continue this for as long as you enjoy it. Thank you for supporting my work, and I hope you enjoy the new chapter

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To read any other parts of this series, click here:

The New Girl In Town - Masterlist

Summary: Rafe accepts the request from your father to fill your place at the clothes drive. When he gets there, he bumps into an unlikely but friendly face, your brother Jason. During the setup for the event, Rafe gets the chance to talk to your brother and find out more about you. What if he finds out your story goes deeper than he thought? Also, what will he do when he discovers more information about your friend who mysteriously pops into town

Warning: Grief of losing family and loved ones, fears of self-harm, peer pressure, allowing someone to binge drink, mentions of potential assault, swearing, self-doubt

As Rafe pulls up to the front of the country club, he parks and throws his bike helmet off immediately. He hurriedly starts walking, hand ghosting over his pockets, double checking for his wallet, keys, and phone and that they’re all still with him. As Rafe walks to the front, his palms are getting sweaty. Rafe never gets nervous. Usually, he’s the one controlling the situation, but with you, your family, it is so different it’s like you will slip out of his fingers the moment you make contact, like handfuls of sand slipping through every time you pick it up.

Rafe stops looking into the country club one last time, taking a deep breath. Rafe has never felt as though he deserves good things. Ward has always rewarded Sarah; the town continuously believes he’s either causing trouble or breaking someone’s daughter's heart; he’s aggressive, psychotic, and a loose cannon when it comes to you, you’re like a ghost to him; no matter where he goes, the image of you haunts him. He wants one thing to go well, one thing to go his way this time, and that’s the things with you.

Straighten up, he clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair as he begins the walk back into the country club; his phone pings with a message. He quickly pulls out his phone while still making his way inside

Unknown number: Thank you so much again, Rafe! I don’t know what I’d do without you, and I owe you one! 🫡💕

Rafe: you can always count on me, angel, always. Also, I’ll never turn down a good favor 😉

He watches as three bubbles appear like you’re about to answer when he runs smack into someone, sending him flying back and stumbling a bit; this has Rafe looking up, starting to say, “Watch where—“ and he cuts himself off because standing in front of him smiling from ear to ear is Jason holding a box of clothes while some still laid on the ground from the collision.

“Rafe, right? he says, smiling with a chuckle. “Seems like I can’t escape you, man if I’m hearing about you or seeing you, I'm nearly trying to knock you on your ass,” he leans down, picking up a shirt from the ground. “Are you here to help with the clothes drive?” Your brother turns to look at him, eyes big and bright like yours are but also kind in a way that makes Rafe want to spill his guts to the guy and tell him his life story; your brother has a soft smirk on his face, not one that is intimidating or meant to be mischievous but one that shows humility like he knows it’s not how Rafe would prefer to spend a random Thursday in June.

They were finally coming to full height, looking at each other. Jason looked to Rafe like an old friend waiting for him to tell them all the things they’d missed in the years past. Smile lines prominently shown on his cheeks, and his eyes creased on the corner just like your whole family has; it made Rafe wonder how often you all smiled to have such prominent and similar facial marks that show happiness and this aura that looks like the dude is being basked in the sun in the middle of a June evening in Kilandre.

Rafe, who at this point has bent down to pick up the last shirt to return to the box, having tucked his phone in his pocket, long forgotten is your response left unread and unanswered.

Rafe decides it’s now or never; he has to play some moves right for a bit, with no snarky attitude or outbursts; he must get this right with your family and you. Show them just how much of a lovely gentleman he can be.

Smiling back and placing the shirt in the box, he looks up to meet your brother's eye, channeling the irritation and pent-up anger from earlier into charm and charisma; both aren’t so far from each other; all depends on lines and delivery.

“ I am here to help. I was not expecting it, but I’m happy to be here. Also, don’t worry about bumping into me. I should have watched where I was going.” Smiling and shaking his head, he motioned with his head inside. “Well, get in there, man. Moms about to give out-groups.” walking down the steps and to your blue Jeep of all things, he turns back to Rafe, calling out, “Also, you’ll have to try and nab us a spot with some of the girls, few in there are our age and they are pretty girls,” you brother says with an awarding smile on his face and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, spinning on heels jogging over to the back of your Jeep.

Rafe shakes his head, looking down, knowing there isn’t a single girl in the whole country club, hell, on the entire island, perhaps even this planet that compares to you. All the more, he’ll help your brother out. What better way to get close than becoming your brother's best friend? A smirk evolves on his face now that right there is a plan and a good one.

Rafe walks through the entrance down the hall to the ballroom area where they usually hold parties and events; there are tons of different Kooks from Figure 8 here to help; he sees a few of the women Rose gossips with after pilates on Wednesdays, a few of the single kook dads who you can tell their sole purpose of helping was your mother who they are ogling, as well as a few of the islands Kook kids Sarah and Topper stand near Ally and Kayla two girls they all went to school with and a boy who he can’t see with his back to Rafe.

Scanning the room more, Kiara is sitting crisscross on the ground, folding baby clothes and watching as your mom describes the night Kiara’s parents are seated at a table behind your mom, quietly talking and writing on papers. Suddenly, Rafes broke from his search of the crowd as your mom's voice rang in his ears, making a beeline for him. “Rafe, you came?” she said this with so much joy, not like she expected him to fail or disappoint her; then, before he knew it, she was wrapping her arms around Rafe's large frame, his arms limp at his sides, patting her back where he could reach but smiling and laying his head on your moms saying “Of course, I’m here Andy, where do you need me I’m ready to help however I can.”

Your mom pulls back, showing her glittering smile, stilling, holding Rafe by the shoulders and gently reaching up to pat his cheek. “You are a good boy, Rafe.” she moves her hand, turning him to look at the crowd. “your sister, I believe she is here. You can stand with her. I’ll put you in a good group, don’t you worry,” she gives Rafe a wink and chuckles, walking off back to the table where Kiara’s parents sit and kneeling in front of the table, looking at the papers they were writing on.

Once again, he eyes the crowd, scoffing when he watches a few of the single dads congregating and staring at your mom's behind, kneeling until one the guy he believes to be Mr. Chusing, who owns a law firm here in Kilandre. he watches as Mr.Chusing kneels right next to your mom and put his hand on her lower back. Your mom stands immediately and politely puts her ring finger on her chest, prominently showing the man her ring. Rafe smiles, shaking his head, knowing your family is a good set of people.

Rafe looks around again at the group standing with his sister; Sarah and Topper are focused on a guy who looks his age; he notices the guy talking animatedly, which makes everyone laugh. Sarah was laughing so hard she had to wipe tears from her eyes. He walks toward the group when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns to find your brother; he looks at him, and he shakes his head as if saying “No” and then shakes his head to the other side, where Kiara sits folding, and he follows him.

“Trust me, you do not even want to go over there, no matter how much fun they look like they are having; that kid is a rat,” Rafe frowns, looking over at the group again as he sits next to Jason, not too far from Kiara folding sock’s together.

He looks at the group, inspecting the boy; he is pretty tall around Rafe's height but not much muscle in his upper body, a thinner build, his hair is a sandy blonde color and curly, kind of like he just got a perm, he turns and sees the guys face he’s pretty tan with a set of perfect white teeth just like your family and even from here Rafe sits he sees the green of his eyes were like sea algae growing on his iris.

Rafe looks at your brother, who is already scowling in the boy's direction. “What did he do?” Jason harshly folds a pair of jeans, looking down on them, not meeting Rafe's eyes once. “He has no respect, loyalty, grace, love, compassion, empathy. I don’t know humanity,” shrugging his shoulders and slamming the pants in the box sitting next to him

Kiara looks up from the baby clothes she sits with, eyebrows arching at Jason. “You good?” she asks like she’s confused. Jason shakes his head, looking down at his hand, shaking and flexing his fingers a few times. Rafe and Kiara look at each other, and she stands to move closer and kneel by your brother. They look back down on the newly bright boy, who seems to be slowly withering in front of them.

“What’s up, bro?” Rafe reaches his hand over to your brother's shoulder with uncertainty; when he makes contact, Jason’s head drops down, hands coming to his face. “You know I was supposed to be with him- them. When they went out there, I was supposed to go with Luca and Cameron on that fishing trip, and I wasn’t because of a damn Stats test. I couldn’t break my honor roll; I couldn’t stop..” Jason’s words are muffled and broken off at the end because he’s looking down with his hands over his eyes, the energy to finally let go of what he’s been holding in dwindling before it’s even sparked.

Rafe knows immediately where this is going for them. He saw it on your face when he asked, and he’s seeing it all over again: a family that seems so picture perfect having a moment where it looks like the world shatters, but for just a moment, you’ll never let them see it too long, but why? Maybe it’s the same reason Rafe is known as the aggressor because of the sentiment he thinks of repeatedly when he’s alone; if people knew the truth, would they still like you? or would they hate it just as much as you do?

What broke Rafes thought was your brother looking up, eyes tinged pink with the welled tears created from the silence, and him looking at the boy across the room leaning into Sarah’s ear to whisper something that made Topper look like he was about to pop his lid. “I may hate myself every day for not being there with them. But I thank god every day for keeping me here and sending me home when Luca was pronounced dead every day to catch that sick son of a bitch over there” Rafe and Kiara both turn to look at Jason with a questioning look he can already feel anger bubbling within him knowing something happened.

“When my sister found out Luca was gone, she was a mess for weeks. Honestly, it would have been months if it weren’t for Luca’s best man, best mate since birth, Ethan; he spent every day with (F/N) and took her to the beach to be near Luca, the aquarium where they had their first date, it was great for months he was the only one who could get her to sleep and eat, but it all went downhill on the six month anniversary and a certain area that struck me as strange one not but basically there is this hiking trail in the neighborhood we lived in back in Malibu that goes up to the cliffs it’s gorgeous and super secluded it was only a place Luca knew and took (F/N)” Jason paused looking down grabbing more clothes to fold

“Cameron told me that that was Luca and (F/N)’s spot..” He trails off, not waiting to discuss this part, but it’s intentional for the story. On the other hand, Kiara gets it immediately, knowing this must be hard for him to talk about on a typical day, but more so for two boys; he called his family and is now gone. Rafe completely misses the hint and frowns at Kiara, giving her eyes like, ‘wtf.’ She looks at him and says, “Sorry for this, Jason, Rafe; it was the first place she was intimate with someone. Get it now.” Rafe's eyes go wide, and he feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach, but the story can’t wait for him to recover

Jason looks up with the tiniest chuckle. “Don’t worry, dude, it took Cam a while to tell me, too. I played dumb. I didn’t want to know what it was my baby sister was up to in that way anyway; on the six-month anniversary of Luca and Cam's death (F/N), she was distraught; she still had hope he was coming home, but by nearly half a year without him, the light for her simmered out. Everyone was over at our house here and there all day, and nothing. None of her friends, our extended family, or even Luca’s mother could get her out to accept a plate. Eventually, we let her be; we didn’t want to overwhelm the hurt she felt already because none of us knew exactly what she felt.” he looked down, shaking his head. Rafe brings his hand back to his shoulder, squeezing it. At the same time, Kiara says, “ Jason, you don’t have to tell us if it’s something that makes you uncomfortable.” this makes the older boy in front of them shake his head more. “ no, I’ve kept this on my chest too long, and every time I bring it up, everybody else shuts it down cause he’s family in their eyes if he said nothing happened they believe him. I need somebody else to listen and hear me out.”

Kiara looks around to see if anyone has moved since the start of this conversation, and Rafe settles back, one eye on Jason, the other on this new kid he doesn’t like in his peripheral. Kiara turns to Jason, letting him know no one’s listening and he’s good, indicating they haven’t moved a muscle or a manicured nail yet. Jason clears his throat and says, “That night, by ten thirty, I had enough. I hadn’t seen my sister in over 24 hours at that point, and I was scared. They were special to me; I mean, Cameron was my best friend since I was born. I didn’t care if she wanted to scream at me or have me hold her and cry with her. I just wanted to see my sister was okay, so I snuck to her room and knocked slightly, opening the door to check on her, and when I opened the door, she was gone.” he looked down at his hand, ringing them together back and forth like a wet rag eventually he looks up like he saw a ghost in front of him “I’ve never been more scared in my life than running to her bed and feeling that her sheets were cold she hadn't been there for at least an hour.”

Kiara put her hands on his to stop him from rubbing his skin raw. “ immediately, I went to find my friends to see if there was anything; when I checked her location, she was at her spot, but what I couldn’t understand was why she would go someplace so desolate, so lonely by herself first I was screaming waking up my parents I thought she was doing something horrible until I thought a little deeper and the only person we didn’t see all day long who didn’t come to help the family as well as Ethan.”

At this point in the story, Rafe is already seething with anger thinking about you being taken somewhere so dangerous at such a late hour; Rafe turns to laughter looking at the boy, staring at the boy across the room with a vicious look, and Jason, scowling at the boy, for whom he feels so much anger as well. Kiara, in some act of comfort, holds Jason’s hand, rubbing her hand over his knuckles, trying to calm him down. Jason clears his throat once more. “When I got there, she was so drunk she couldn’t even tell me her name; she doesn’t remember that night. He swears up and down nothing happened, but it seems like ever since that day, he will not leave her alone. It’s like he believes what belonged to Luca now belongs to him, and I can’t take it; every time I see him, I want to kill him.”

Rafe turns for a moment to look at your brother's face for the first time since he met your family; he sees the slightest glimmer of darkness behind his eye, the same kind Rafe has; the same one so many people in this town warn others about with Rafe, and then just like the sun on a rainy day it’s there and gone before you believe you saw it. His eyes only showed the cloud of grief and hurt.

Rafe pats his back again and says, “You’re in the Outerbanks now, bro, and your sister is safe; the people out here, our people, we’ll have her back.” Kiara gives Rafe a look like you can’t be serious about telling this boy he can trust any kook; the only trustworthy people on this island were the pogues and, more specifically, her group of friends.

Like always, though, with rich boys, they band together, not even acknowledging the look on Kiara's face. Jason looks up and says, “Thank you, Rafe. I appreciate you hearing me out, and my sister was right about you, that’s for sure.” Rafe's eyes blow out, and his neck turns red as he shakes his head and says, “Your sister is something else.”

To further this thread of thoughts in Rafe's mind, he feels his phone ping twice and pulls it from his back pocket

(F/N)🌊💕: Angel huh? I like that one, and yes, Rafe, I now owe you A favor that means only one. Don’t think I’m out here doing favors for anyone!

sent at 6:15 pm

(F/N)🌊💕: We should hang out sometime, maybe catch some waves tomorrow??

sent at 7:00 pm

(F/N)🌊💕: I’m heading to bed; let me know :) Thank you again, and see you around Reef 🪸🐠

sent at 7:30

Scanning these messages, Rafe starts to type a response before he’s even finished reading but immediately deletes it, thinking it better to let you sleep since something made you sick. Turning to your brother and pondering just what did make you head out? He asks, “Hey, what ma—“ but before he could finish, your mom was calling groups

“Okay, everyone, we will split into groups to make distributions easy. Take a little of each kind of clothing, men to babies, with you. The spot I give you is where you will be sitting at a distribution table, which my wonderful daughter (F/N) and her friend Ethan helped set up.” Ethan smiled and waved around at the people who were looking for you “ (F/N) who is unfortunately very sick and has to raincheck on being here was the mind of this event, and she was overwhelmed and overjoyed of the community outreach here; it shouldn’t take us more than 45 minutes to get rid of these items and help some families in need.” Everyone starts to clap. Jason stands and lends a hand out to Kiara and helps her stand as Rafe stands and moves to make sure he has a good line of sight on the pretty boy with no manners.

Everything is muffled as he stands examining the boy who’s most likely 20 feet across the ballroom from him, trying to catch a slip of any kind and the fun demeanor he’s been portraying all evening. Still, he seems respectful and well-mannered. Rafe watches, knowing under the stone image of a nice guy is a monster clawing its way back out.

Rafe hearing his name is what diverts his attention. “Rafe, would you mind leading the last group?” he looks to your mother, smiling; he shakes his head, dying inside but smiling, saying, “Would be happy to Andy.” This being out, Rafe sees for the first time in the evening; the boys' eyes snap, and it is immediately like the pin pulled from a grenade getting ready to blow.

Rafe sees Ethan’s eye lock with his; you would think Rafe has lit his house on fire and spit in his face with the disgusting face he throws his way. Rafe stares back, the usual dark look in his eye, a smirk on his face, knowing now this kid knows the monster has met its match. Looking at Ethan but saying to your mother, “Where would you like us?”

Rafe is walking outside to your jeep with your brother in hot pursuit, with no emotions, as he carries boxes to be loaded in the back. His group comprises Jason, Kiara, Sarah, Topper, the girls, and the goon. They all agreed to take separate cars, Kayla and Ally with Kiara in her vehicle; Topper and Sarah were so kind as to offer to take Ethan, leaving Jason to drive Rafe in your jeep. As they loaded the back with their few boxes, Jason turned to Rafe with an almost incredulous look. “I know what I told you is a lot to believe—“ Rafe stops him by simply saying, “I see it; in his eyes, he’s done something, and he doesn’t like me 'cause she does.” They had an entire moment of understanding between the young men he had done something that night, and now they both knew, and they will know what happened eventually.

This has both boys rounding the car and hopping in. Jason turns on the car, but before turning off the country club driveway with his hand on the wheel, he turns to Rafe again. “Just don’t let him provoke you, bro; he can be complicated. I told you the kid likes to be a bit of—“ Rafe looks at him with literally no emotion on his face saying, “a bitch.”

Jason laughs, throwing his head back against the headrest for the first time since he greeted him; he sees brightness return to Jason’s face; he lays his head there a moment, laughter dying back slowly. He shakes his head, bringing it forward. “Ethan is a crude bastard, and he’s not afraid to say what he thinks even if it's stupid, but he also likes to pick a good fight.” This has Jason looking at Rafe dead in the eyes, more serious than he’s seen or heard anyone in your family this far.

He says, “Don’t let him provoke you.” Rafe frowns, but Jason looks at him like a kid whose parents picked him up during a fight at school, and they’re waiting for him to say what he knows and won’t. Rafe starts to get a little pissed. “What makes you think he’ll—“Jason eyes him again, turning to drive as Rafe sits back silently for a moment. “I won’t. I’m here for her, and she wouldn’t, so I won’t,” Jason chuckles. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger already, huh? Yeah, she has that effect.”

Jason smiles, looking forward to driving them to the Heywards Shop to set up a pickup for clothes. Rafe stares out the window, watching the yellow streetlights mix with the blue-green hue of the evening sky and looking out at the hint of the stars he can see shining in the night sky. He thinks of you and how fast his heart beats when you smile and how warm he feels when you are next to him. You make him feel and think so differently in a way that makes him want to explore and experience things as you do; he wants to see things from a positive and enthusiastic perspective.

Against his better judgment, he pulls his phone from his pocket and pulls up the contact he’s already saved for you and the messages you’ve already shared.

Rafe: I'd take any favors you’d give, and also, I’d love for you to tell me where, and I’ll be there; sweet dreams, angel. ❤️

All rights belong to the owners of Netflix and the Outer Banks. I do not own any characters except OC characters. The fiction is simply for fun. All copyrights belong to the original owners.