#even though it’s no longer easter

[toherlover]

[chelseeebe]

just a taste

18+. mdni. smut. kinda perv!eddie x fem!reader. he is a lil freaky in this i'll admit.

a/n: i just love the idea of the citrus six all living together lol idk i think it’s so nice also i have never watched cheers i just googled 1991 american tv shows and picked one at random LMAO ++ for the movie, i thought it’d be a nice lil easter egg for them to watch something with winona in:,)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

eddie doesn’t know who you are or why you’re coming to visit or why exactly it was him that was being made to vacate his room for the two weeks that you were here. 

“c’mon eddie,” robin pleads, nay, demands, “you sleep on the couch most nights anyway, what’s the difference?” 

“uh, maybe because it’s my room? i don’t want some random girl in there touching my stuff,” almost flabbergasted that she’s even asking. 

“she’s not a random girl,” robin frowns, “she’s my friend and she needs somewhere to stay.” 

“tell her there’s a great hotel in town,” rolling his eyes, trying to leave the conversation before she breaks out the puppy dog eyes. "i'll even give her a ride if you ask nicely," no longer interested in entertaining this conversation.

“i’ll give you fifty bucks,” robin deadpans, using her last resort.

this was bribery of the highest order but eddie's not stupid. fifty bucks is fifty bucks.

“now?” 

she sighs, sliding her wallet from her pocket to reluctantly hand over the bill. she stops just before it touches his palm, “promise you’ll clean your room.” 

eddie goes to grab the paper but robin’s faster, jolting her hand into the air, “and change your sheets.” 

“okay,” he huffs, holding his palm outstretched. 

she graciously places the note down, smiling wickedly as she does so before skipping off back to her own room. 

he can only roll his eyes, turning around to the shit hole that was his room, wondering if fifty dollars was worth having to tackle it. 

-

eddie’s sat on the couch when you arrive, barely looking back as robin begins to fuss, talking loudly about your journey. he doesn’t really care enough to involve himself, besides, elvis presley had just given sam a very important message. 

“eddie,” robin hisses, standing in front of the screen, “don’t be rude, say hello,” her hands firmly on her hips like she was his mother or something. 

he looks up at the looming figure by the couch, hoping his eyes hadn’t given his immediate shock away too much. 

you flash him a sheepish smile back, waggling your fingers in a short wave. 

two weeks on the couch didn’t seem so bad now. 

not if you were sleeping in his bed. 

it’s just a shame that he wouldn’t be in there sharing it. 

“hey,” he stands, hoping to indiscreetly catch his breath, “i’m- uh, i’m eddie,” offering his hand out, though he regrets it as soon as it’s done. 

who shakes hands now? christ. he needed to get a grip, and badly. 

“hey,” you reply, your name dripping from your tongue. though you do shake his hand, not bothering to hide your confusion in the process. 

“eddie very kindly said you could have his room,” a bright, big sarcastic smile on her lips. 

“yeah.. no biggie..” christ, he’s almost panting. “do whatever you want in there.. or you know, just- just make yourself at home.” 

his desperate pleas for the earth to split open and swallow him whole go unanswered. instead, robin shoots him a concerned glare before ushering you away from his weird, longing gaze. 

'pull it together loser' she mouths before disappearing, leaving him to reflect upon how utterly hard he had just fumbled that entire situation. 

-

when everyone’s home from work and you’ve exchanged niceties and greetings with the rest of the house, robin brightly suggests a movie. 

eddie usually hated movie nights in the house. 

jonathan would want to watch some indie cult classic that no one else had ever heard of, steve wanted to watch some dumb comedy that only he’d find funny and then nancy and robin typically opted for the romance genre. 

leaving eddie and argyle with absolutely no choice but to sit in silence as they bickered. 

tonight it’s different, you get to pick. 

and now he’s not saying that whatever you choose will forever change the way he views you but.. well, that’s actually exactly it. 

you land on edward scissorhands. 

not the worst choice you could’ve made, and hey, his mom used to call him edward when he was in real bad trouble. 

in the end, it doesn’t really matter what you had picked because eddie can’t muster up enough energy to actually care about the film. not while your thighs are peeking out from underneath your oversized shirt. he can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around his ears. what previous sounds would fall out of your mouth in response.

at some point during the movie, you stand up and walk out of the room to the kitchen but that doesn’t stop him. staring through the open door, marvelling at the way the hem of your shirt lifts, exposing the tiny shorts you had on underneath. 

he’s practically hanging over the back of the couch to get a look, craning his neck at a ninety degree angle just to get a glimpse of your soft, pillowy skin. pinching himself as he tries to resist the urge to just sink his teeth into your inner thigh.

robin jabs her elbow into his ribcage, drawing his eyes back to the room with a grunt and a harsh glare thrown her way. 

“you’ve been staring at her all night,” she whispers angrily into his ear, “stop it, or next time it’s your balls,” a harsh warning he didn’t find entirely necessary. 

you sidle back into the room, drink in hand and eddie can’t help but let his eyes wander over again, short glances that robin hopefully wouldn’t pick up on. 

he can’t help it, some magnetic force swaying his gaze in your direction. he wishes so badly that he could just crawl out of his head and tell you how much he wanted you. 

unfortunately for eddie, he’d instead spend the night dreaming of your ass and all the ways he could have you if he’d only grow a backbone. 

-

living alongside you is an entirely new feat eddie’s not sure he’ll survive. 

it’s torturous. 

testing the limits of how ridiculously horny one man can get without self-imploding. 

so close and yet so far. each night you’d tuck yourself into his bed, doing god knows what in between his sheets all without eddie getting a look in.

of course he’d made up a hundred different scenarios to fall asleep to each night. 

his favourite being the one where he walks into his bedroom to find you mouth open, legs apart, too encapsulated in your pleasure to notice him. only until you do, inviting him closer, between those supple thighs of yours, a forbidden nirvana he’ll never get to know. 

though more often than not he’s cruelly forced back into reality by robin ripping the curtains open at the ass crack of dawn, blaring sunlight on his face as you slip away from the grapples of his dream land. 

now is his opportunity, the house quiet, bar the muffled giggles of you and robin upstairs. he’s safe for now, he thinks, rather foolishly. it’s late, the rest of them asleep or too busy in their own rooms to catch him in the act. 

eddie’s never done anything like this before. it’s disgusting, perverted to the core. 

good grief, this is prosecutable behaviour. 

tiptoeing down the hall to his room, the door open just a crack, enticing him in further. he can still hear you on the floor above, giving him enough confidence to push it open a little more, edging inside with a quick glance back down the hall, just in case. 

gratefully it seemed that you were just as messy as he was, your clothes strewn across the floor. his eyes immediately turning to the peeking of lace from under the pile. glancing one last time at the cracked door, ensuring that absolutely nobody would see him. 

reaching down to gather the fabric in one quick swoop, bunching them in his palm as he lets out a quick sigh of relief. 

oh fuck. they were so soft, fingers spreading to really get a feel. he wasn't even going to take them, he'd just wanted a little look, something to help his overactive imagination get all the important details right.

“what are you doing?” startling him in this precarious position, the lace of your underwear entangled around his fingertips. 

eddie freezes, he can feel the heat rising through his chest, all the way up to the tips of his ears. scarlet red. 

“uh.. i..i-i don’t know..” he hasn’t done anything like this before, he swears. 

your mouth is open in a sort of half-smirk, half-perplexed gawp, closing the door before he could bolt. 

you move around the mess, creeping closer until he can feel you brushing against his side, peering over into his hand. 

“oh wow..” you remark, breath hot and sweet against his cheek, “what were you gonna do with those?” 

eddie feels sick, trying not to projectile vomit across his room. there’s no way you wouldn’t tell robin. fuck. he could hear you now, voice full of disgust, robin laughing at how pathetic he was. 

“n-nothing i swear..” stumbling through his sentence, “i was just..” excuses fail to come to mind, “i was uhm.. looking for something,” the absolute best his flustered mind to muster up. 

“oh really?” reaching around to untangle them from his hand, “you sure about that?” 

there’s no anger to your voice, but he doesn’t dare turn around to look at your face. afraid of what he’ll find. your eyes pitying, sad that he has to root around your dirty laundry to get off. 

“i’m- i’m sure,” though the crack in his voice gives him away. 

you hum, coming around to stand in front of his gormless face, “so you don’t wanna keep these?” holding the evidence up to his face, the hem just barely grazing his cheek. 

eddie’s knees almost buckle, his breath shuddering as any semblance of composure he had left, floats right out the window. 

“here,” reaching forward to tuck the baby blue fabric into the waistband of his sweatpants, your eyes never once leaving his as you do so. “you keep those.. but next time just ask, okay?” 

he nods like an obedient dog, lapping up the scraps you were throwing him. he could stand here all night long, keeping up the weird little power game you’d started. 

“goodnight eddie,” you smile, giving him a gentle nudge, a sign for him to get the fuck out. 

you were the master, he was just the lap dog, eager to please. 

-

at breakfast the next morning, he struggles to even keep his eyes open. having spent an embarrassingly long amount of time on the couch last night shamelessly sniffing the lace you’d gifted him. 

you don’t even acknowledge it, or him for that matter. happily chatting along with nancy about some news article. 

“oh and eddie,” robin begins, flashing him a stern look, “i don’t appreciate finding your fucking panties in between the couch cushions,” 

he chokes on his mouthful, his knife clattering against the table in shock. a multitude of eyes turn to stare at the spectacle he was making. 

“they’re- they’re not mine,” clearing his throat as he clears his name, though he doesn’t dare look in your direction, terrified that he’d absolutely lose his mind if he did. 

“well whoever’s they are, i don’t care, stop leaving them on the couch.. i’m sure our guest doesn’t want to sit amongst dirty underwear,” she bites, calming down now she had gotten her point across. 

if only she knew. 

eddie must’ve fallen asleep with them still attached to his hand, thanking his lucky stars that no one had walked in on him with them pressed to his nose.  

he keeps his head low, focusing on the plate in front of him. nothing had ever been as mortifying as this. not even the time he had slipped off the dinner table in the middle of the cafeteria. 

cutlery scrapes and clinks against the china, uncomfortable silence until argyle clears his throat, “gnarly meal robin, thanks dude,” seemingly settling the tense atmosphere, for now. 

everybody hums in agreement, getting back to their food without another word. but your eyes peek up, meeting his with an indescribable glint. and really, the worst part is that eddie would sit through this horrific situation a hundred more times, just for one more measly sniff at your panties. 

-

eddie can’t take it anymore. 

he’s never been so pent up in his entire life. and he’s tried to hold on until he could move back into his room but he couldn’t last any longer. 

but he’s careful, waiting for everyone to trundle on off to bed, listening carefully for the muted click of the light switch and even then, waiting another hour to be sure. 

the clock glares an alarming 1:04 by the time his belt clinks and his jeans come down, the first of them would be awake in just a few hours, ready to take you on to the airport. 

he wishes it would’ve played out differently, that he wouldn’t be sat here on the last night of your stay alone. but alas, eddie’s never been particularly brave and especially not in regards to hot women. 

your panties wrapped around his right hand as he spits on his left, wrapping around his stiff cock while his fingertips play with the lace in his other hand. 

“ohh fuck,” he hisses, wanting nothing more than to start hollering the house down. 

robin wouldn’t be too pleased if she ever found out what he’d done. and he can’t really afford to get the entire couch dry-cleaned so he really must be careful. 

thinking quick, he shoves his t-shirt into his mouth, muffling the chorus of grunts and groans threatening to spill over into the dark room. the muted light from the tv illuminates his face, breathing loudly through his nose 

he hadn’t heard the door open or the soft sound of your feet padding down the hall, only made aware of your presence when he reopens his eyes, near enough jumping out of his bones. 

how long had you been there watching him shudder and whine?

“fuck,” he exclaims, fist still wrapped tight around his throbbing cock, too aroused to care about it too much. 

“you want some help with that?” 

eddie looks at his dick, then back at you, mouth hung open in a mixture of awe and confusion. 

it’s not very clear but you move closer anyway, sinking to your knees and nestling in between his spread legs. 

“okay?” maintaining eye contact despite how difficult it was, eyes bright and eager. 

he nods, unable to comprehend what was happening. knowing he’d wake up from this twisted dream to some soggy boxers and a whole lotta shame. 

your palm wraps around the base of his cock, shooing his hands away to make room, smiling as your lips wrap around the already leaking tip. were you a psychopath? were you placed on this earth to goad and tease him?

this isn’t real. this isn’t real. the voice repeats around his head though it’s quickly silenced by your tongue swirling circles around the tip of his cock, readjusting his t-shirt to bite down harshly on the fabric. 

eddie’s hands lay useless on his thighs, twitching to intertwine with your hair, still doubting the reality of the situation. this could all be a dream and the second he touches your hair, you’d disappear from in front of his eyes.

the t-shirt falls from his lips, “fuuck,” grunting into the tense air, gritting his teeth so as to not expose your precarious position to the rest of the house. 

the wet sounds of your lips wrapped tight around his cock make his toes curl, his hands find your hair, not without prompting from you. tugging gently at the tendrils as his head starts to spin. 

when your eyes look up to meet his, eddie thinks he might just cum right down your throat then and there. he can see that troublesome glint in your eye, a roaring fire that he so desperately wants to keep stoking. 

your fingers slide up his thigh, finding his neglected balls and with a slight smirk, you grab ahold, gently fondling them as his brain melts out of his ears. 

no one had ever, ever made him feel so good. collectively losing brain cells when you hum on his cock, getting just as much out of this as he was. 

“oh yeah, fuck- shit fuck, i’mcummingi’mcummingi’mcumming,” eddie’s mouth rushes, louder than he ever should’ve been. bright flashes of light fill his peripheral, using your scalp as leverage to keep himself on the couch. 

his hips stutter, thrusting into your mouth with his fingers tight in your hair, yanking harshly in an effort to get your lips off of him before he came everywhere. 

you don’t budge, nails digging into his thigh as his release seeps down your throat, his eyes squeezing shut as his fist instinctively comes up to muffle his mouth, moaning into his clammy palm instead of alerting the entire house. 

eddie’s other hand lets go of his strong hold on your hair, allowing you to get off of his dick, panting happily as you sit up between his knees and with lips glistening with his release, you kiss him. all soft and gentle while his brain fails to compute. 

it should be gross. but eddie just can’t find it in himself to care, because in reality, this was the hottest thing that had ever happened in his measly little life. 

“please let me taste you,” he begs between kisses, grasping desperately at your waist, the fabric of your shirt slipping between his desperate fingers.

you giggle, pulling back to look at him through the dimmed light, “not now,” you hover just above, constantly teasing and unobtainable

“well when?" jutting his bottom lip out in hopes it'd convince you to change your mind.

"when i'm back," letting him down gently. eddie'd count the seconds till you came back if that was what it took to get even a tiny glimpse of your pussy.

“what time do you leave?” he pants, chasing your lips. eddie was nothing if not a chancer, though if it hadn't happened already, there's a miniscule chance of it happening now.

“seven,” whispering back, a hint of annoyance that this build up had only crescendoed now, just as you were about to leave. he'll blame robin for that, poking her nose in and trying to turn him off. it shouldn't have worked. he should've been braver.

“but it’s your turn,” an awful sadness and regret overcoming him. someone better, someone like steve, would've had you pinned to that couch by now, his head between your thighs and your slick dripping down his chin.  

“next time,” only repeating yourself, smiling coyly before you plant one last kiss to his longing lips before standing fully upright and disappearing back off to his room, leaving him reeling with a story nobody else would ever believe.

[moonbakeries]

HOW I MANIFESTED MY DREAM LIFE IN A WEEK

BACKSTORY

So I decided to fully immerse myself in "persisting" and fulfilling when I listened to Lonely one by LOVA because I spent around an hour just sobbing because I related to the song.

the week that I started was around Easter break and I was under the most amount of stress I have ever been through and I could see it the effects on my body

I was breaking out with huge pimples even though I was on accutane, I was averaging 2 hours of sleep a day every week for 2 weeks, my period had going on for 2 weeks, I was losing weight rapidly (was under 35kg:( ) my anxiety was at an all time high because I got harassed again(sexual assault victim). I used to have severe depression and have had multiple failed attempts of suicide. AND YES I WAS DESPERATE AS FUCK TO MANIFEST THIS DREAM LIFE OF MINE WHICH IS NO LONGER A DREAM

in the mornings I would be super anxious but I learned how to deal with it and get myself into the state super easily

HOW I DID IT

I GOT OFF TUMBLR: you know how many times I doubted myself only to realise I was doing everything right

I also read and listened to Edward Art MULTIPLE TIMES

Within a week of fulfilling and persisting, I had manifested my dream life. just like that. I woke up one morning and everything I had ever desired was right there. and it was super easy.

all I did was affirm(to remind not to get), visualise and feel. I would only do these methods if I wanted to, if I didn't I wouldn't.

Within a few days, the anxiety lessened so much and it started to feel natural. 

this was a question on Bambi's " how I manifested with hard circumstances " post which has now been sadly deleted but I remember copying this because it gave me hope at the time I copied it (don't hope, just know)

"But isn’t ranting “not letting the old story die out?” you and i could rant until our minds are cleared, just as long as you flip my thoughts, you are on the right track.  I rant for 2% of my 24 hour days. The other 98% i was persisting in the fact that creation was done. as “time” went on, it began to feel more natural and I felt more at ease. I held onto that feeling because I knew this was when I would get my desires and I did."

and that was when I knew I shouldn't give up and I just kept going even when I wanted myself to just get on tumblr and overconsume 

I actually nearly decided to see what I was "doing wrong". I clicked on one of Aphrodite's posts but I didn't read it. I just asked myself if I would look through it if I had my desires and I wouldn't and since I already have all of my desires I didn't.

Whenever the anxiety was too strong and I could feel the frustration and desperation building up, I would just rant and it helped me calm down and get back into the state super easily.

why?

because STATES MANIFEST THOUGHTS DON'T

which is why you can rant.

you know how many FUCKING DOUBTS I had, but I didn't even give them attention coz they didn't deserve any and how many times I wanted to just give up, but I was like NO, STFU, I DON'T WANNA LIVE MISERABLY ANYMORE and now I'm not :)

The affirmations I used:

It is done

I am living my dream life

I am in my desired reality

The 3d will conform as long as i keep persisting

Imagination is the real reality

I also daydreamed, but since imagination is the real reality they were real

WHAT I MANIFESTED

- desired appearance

- name change

- family change

- skills (drivers licence etc)

- apartment and furniture

- wealth

- a bunch of random materialistic things

- desired friend group (I absolutely love them!)

- desired uni and always getting good grades

- outfits from pinterest

and a bunch of other things

- I also ended up manifesting an sp without even knowing and he's pretty much I everything I scripted him to be(scripted a year ago because I didn't really care for a relationship) but this happened before I manifested my dream life

after a year and half of being on loablr I finally manifested my dream life. and you can too

(there was probably over 100 things I wanted but I realised what I want is not much, nothing ever is when you know about loa and yes, i was super desperate)

you don't need anymore information other than @angelsinluv states post and fulfillment challenge

you shouldn't ever be stressed or worried while manifesting whatever you want, because you wouldn't stress if you had it

TAKE YOUR TIME

YOU GOT THIS

[moonlightcycle571]

Lantern Corps and a 10 year old Child

In a last post, I said the Lantern Corps would love Captain Marvel because he’s omni-lingual (and there’s so many different species so it makes sense that they would feel comfertable around a guy who can speak their mother tongue, no matter how obscure it is).

And then it came to me in a glorious vision, the Cores would LOVE or absolute HATE Billy Batson, be it as a kid it as Captain Marvel.

First on the Love Captain spectrum:

Red Lantern: that’s the corps that’s the most insistent. Man’s fights littéral Wrath and demons alike on a weekly basis. Man’s go to weekly poker night with Satan and other Wardens of Hell. Why? Because he has his own prison dimension in th Rock of Eternity, who also holds the strongest demons.

Yellow Lanterns: as champion of magic, he holds a lot of weight. Especially for magic users. One flick of a wrist and boom, your magic is gone. The whole concept of ‘The Champion’ is enough for most to fear him. That and one does not play poker with The Devil from The Bible and other figures from various religions, and just have a normal presence. He’s terrifying when he wants to be. In his Cap form, he needs to actively tamp down to appear more family friendly, and not the eldricht horror he knows he could easily look like.

Green Lanterns: Homeless Child Superhero dealing with horrors must adults can’t handle. That takes willpower. Even before Captain, I’m pretty sure off willpower alone he could qualify. But what’s the real ringer is his imagination. The Rock of Eternity has access to magical dimensions that no amount of crack could dream up. Man’s had to learn how to use Looney Toones Logic irl and it works. Man’s got a while Disney Dimension with Ballerina Hippos with their Croc partners. Mans has debates about files with littéral walking talking dinosaurs. Billy is hella creative, and who knows what would be made with a ring.

Blue Lanterns: do I … do I need to explain? There are the lantern corps of Hope, I think the rest is pretty self explanatory. I will say though, he was close to accepting when he found out they got a Corgi. Even closer when Dex Starr, the red lanterns cat got a

Orange Lantern: bro fights the physical manifestations of the Seven Deadly Sins , including Greed on a regular basis. By right of conquest, he really should be wearing the ring rn. They be trying to put a ring on it for ages.

Black Lanterns: he once revived Freddy and or Mary by reconnecting them to the rock, and since then is considered a ‘nécromancer’. Also (similar to the Avatar State) he has memories of past champions, including death, so one can argue he’s in a life and death loop.

White lanterns: same reasons as the Black Lanterns. They’ve been trying to get Billy to also out-do said Black Lanterns (who in turn try to recruit him some more). It’s just one vicious snowball effect now.

Now for the Hate Captain spectrum:

Star Sapphire Corps: The thing about Billy is that he’s AroAce. Very Aro and Very Ace. So those who draw power from love and try to flirt are met with the disgusted face of someone who’s famously nice. It was a devastating blow to the whole corps. At some point Hal decided to hide behind Cap to escape another Star Sapphire who fell inlove with him, and they just, lost their power. No longer had the ability to fly and everything. He’s Ace-ness is crippling. And it did bring memes. The Ace community was winning.

Indigo Tribe: he’s too autistic for them. And while being the warden of multiple dangerous beings fits their MO and all, they ain’t touching the bullshit magical logic with a ten foot pole. That, and the first time a ring was sent to him to recruit him to keep the evil ones in line, he roasted their whole system, their ugly ass uniforms (that particular shade of indigo clashed with his Hero Outfit way to much) and ended with a comparison to them with a guy called ‘King Kid’ and the fucking ‘Easter Bunny King’ that somehow did a much better job at Machiavellic while also being uhly. They never sent a second one. The red lanterns sent more.

Ultraviolet lanterns: again, man’s fights the Seven Sins on the regular, is their warden along with other sick evils, lies to the Justice League on the regular and plays poker with Demons (and wins) despite being one of the most honest people there is. That and he’s so dad shaped, it counters their power of daddy issues.

Bonuse:

It’s not uncommon for various JL members to receive lantern rings. They just don’t want to. So the standard procedure is to find your local lantern, and give them rings. At some point all the Corps made a lantern offers chart (and maybe the JL got a bit competitive).

Problem, that screen was using old alien tech that didn’t have colour. So they knew Cap had the most lantern offers, but they didn’t know which colours. Until it got fixed.

J’le looking at the rainbow that’s Captain Marvels Ring List: …

Batman: Captain, why is there so many red ones?

Billy, sweating: …

Hal, not comfy with the amount of yellow: I… I need to make a few phone calls.

John, the one who’s been receiving all of his rings: Uh, don’t remind me. I’ve been getting cramps with the amount of times I had to input the different colours.

Dinah: I don’t think even I’m qualified for the amount of therapy everyone is going to need.

WonderWoman: How to you have Negative Pink Rings??? You can’t get a negative number in a list

Billy, inputing the Zeta Tube: haha, it’s so weird

John: … do I need to add AroAce as a weakness for the Sapphires???

Bonus points if the results are open to the galactic public, and just wonder who tf are and ‘Billy Batson’ and Captain Marvel and why they are dominating the top ranks. What is in the Terra city Fawcette.

Extra Bonus Point if the JL go: Who tf is Billy Batson, and why is he ranked above Captain Marvel.

I’ve been waiting to do this one for a while. But never got the motivation. Let me know if I missed any, and feel free to write fanfic (please tag me if you do, I wanna reeeeead).

Final note, I want to give a certain someone a comment of appreciation.

@wonderjanga you are my favourite person on this app. You are the reason I decided to get out of my procrastination slump. Thank you for you content, it’s always so creative and I deeply enjoy it.

For those who don’t know them, I recommend checking out their content. It’s genuinely inspiration for me to start writing again. I don’t think I’ll be writing on ao3 soon, but maybe one day.

[razrbladekiss]

GUILTY AS SIN? | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: your dad’s ex-best-friend explains just why your old-man no longer associates with the man whose blood once ran through his veins.

PAIRING: dads(ex)best friend!joel miller x afab!reader. joel is in his fifties, reader is early twenties.

WORD COUNT: no idea i raw-dogged this on tumblr dot com.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, 18+ WORK BELOW THE CUT. kinda established friendship between reader and joel, despite not seeing one another for a few years. insinuated NSFW, nothing strictly dirty. just wordy shit.

PART TWO

He’s a lot grayer than you remember. Broader, too. He looks positively stacked beneath the faded red flannel he’s donning today. For an old-ish man, Joel looks good.

Too good.

Much, much too good for a man who has the audacity—the absolute temerity—to show his face in this town after all that he said about, and did to your father.

Apparently—though, you’ve never been too sure how true the tale of brotherly betrayal had been—Joel had broken the “sacred” pact between himself and your father, when you had moved out of state four years ago, and neither spoke a word to the other since.

Joel left Point Pleasant and took with him his shame for whatever it was that he’d done. But now he’s back—to the dismay of your father—and you’ve just so happened to cross paths with him.

And though you don’t understand—or care to learn about—just what happened between the two who’d been friends since childhood, you respect your old man and his desire to keep you from Joel.

That was, until today.

When you bumbled through town—hunting for a padlock to secure the gate in your backyard that keeps blowing open with the fucking wind—you didn’t think you’d come face to face with him.

You’d waltzed into the hardware store on St. John’s Road, roaming the aisles—feeling uncomfortable in the mundane—for the biggest, brassiest lock you could find and when you got your hands on it, a familiar—though not entirely expected—voice filled the space between you and the monotony of being back home.

He showed himself and you all but shit yourself. You hadn’t expected to see Joel God damn Miller in your town, but you did. And it knocked you for six.

The two of you made small talk for a few minutes—mindful of who could’ve been around—before Joel was inviting you out for drinks later that evening. And being the sweet—slightly intrigued as to what happened between him and your father—soul you are, you said “yes.”

And that’s how you wound up in this position.

Joel sits opposite to you, puttering with the beer mat between his pointer finger and thumb. He flashes you a smile whenever you speak, and you’re filled with a strange sense of warmth in his presence. Nostalgia, perhaps.

“And college was a drag.” You say honestly. “I dropped out after the second semester, but I didn’t tell my parents.”

He laughs in disbelief, not for one second thinking that your father would’ve let that slide.

“What’d dad say?” Joel cringes when he realizes the way he’s spoken about your old man, remembering that they were no longer on friendly terms. “Sorry, Mike.”

Tight lipped, you smile.

“I didn’t tell him for six months. Mom knew, but she never told him.” Breezing past that hiccup, you tell him. “But when he did find out, he kicked my ass. Didn’t speak to me for a year. Didn’t want me back at home for Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, my Birthday. Didn’t want nothin’ to do with me, ‘til I re-enrolled.”

“And did you?”

You shake your head. “No, sir. I moved to Atlanta, instead. Got a job in marketing, worked my way up to a senior position, met a great guy and got engaged, built the best life I possibly could’ve.”

Proud of you—genuinely pleased—Joel smiles. “So what brings you back here?”

The wine glass in your hand is suddenly bone-dry, empty of it’s once fruity contents. You laugh wryly. “Got fired. Fiancé cheated on me with the CEO of my company. Lost my house in the split. So I came back here last summer.. taken me ‘til now to be able to move outta dad’s place.”

“Oh, sweetheart..” He sense that you don’t want his sympathy, but he can’t help it. “How did d—Mike take it?”

Again, you laugh.

“Badly. Didn’t speak to me for a while.” You smile tight-lipped. “Common theme, that. Dad not speaking to me.”

Joel whirls his whiskey around its tumbler, refusing eye contact. “I know how that feels. Been four years since he last said a word to me, and I kick myself for that everyday.”

It’s sad. Meditative. Almost makes you want to keep your nose out.

Almost.

“Yeah,” you put down your glass. “What happened there, then? ���Cus nobody seems to tell me jack-shit here, anymore.”

Usually, Joel would say something along the lines of “darlin’, it’s best you don’t know,” or “none ‘a your damn business.” But he supposes that it is your business—what with it being your father.

And the fact that you’re the fucking reason for your dad wanting to murder Joel, and use his guts as drapes.

“Well.” He begins—feeling his chest constrict and heart pound wildly inside of its ribcage. Joel takes a deep, drawn out breath, and a swig of his liquor for some well-needed fucking courage.

But it doesn’t work.

He’s a trembling mess, now.

“Alright, you needa know…this ain’t somethin’ I’m proud of.”

You blink at him, feeling crimson bleed into your cheeks while simultaneously knowing that all color is draining from your face.

“And I’ve been on my own for years. Since Sarah’s mother died—“

“Joel.” You say, warningly. “Spit it out.”

He swallows thickly the residual bile on the tip of his tongue. Joel didn’t think he’d ever be in this position. Least of all today.

“Your father and I, we got drunk at a yacht party one night.” He begins. “Some hot-shot at his company invited us and I wasn’t gunna go, ‘til Mike convinced me.”

You can tell he’s trying to drag it out, and so you stare at him pointedly.

Joel clears his throat, continuing. “Anyway. We got hammered, told one another some shit and shared a few heart-to-hearts. And then I crossed a boundary that—darlin’—I know I never should’ve crossed.”

“Go on..” Apprehensive, you say.

He rubs his lips together, sending you a very apologetic gaze.

“I told your father that I had a crush on you.” Finally he admits, and your heart falls out of your fucking cunt. “Now—this ain’t somethin’ I ever wanted to act on—“

“You had a crush on me?” He nods, ignoring the venom in your tone. “Joel! That’s fucking—that’s—“

You can’t find it in yourself to be disgusted with him. In fact, you’re quite flattered, actually. Because for as long as you can remember, Joel Miller was desired by every single woman that he’d ever known, and yourself would’ve been included in that.

Despite being the father of one of your closest childhood friends, you often fantasized about what it’d be like to screw around with Joel. Because he was so handsome—so rough and rugged—and he made you squirm whenever he put a friendly hand to your shoulder or hugged you at a family event.

You’re completely dumbfounded, actually.

He says your name as you’re lost in your lascivious thoughts, hastily plummeting you back to reality.

“I’m sorry—“

“Don’t be.” Completely unfazed, now, you say. “My dad’s a drama queen. I should’ve known it’d be something stupid that split the two of you up.”

He stares blankly at you, brows fused together.

“If I’m being honest, Joel, I’ve wanted to fuck you for years.” Candid, you tell him. “So I guess that now you and my dad hate one another, I have nothing to feel bad about.”

“What the f—I mean—thanks? But, sweetheart, this is wrong.” He reasons. “Your father ground me into the sidewalk when he found out, and I can’t imagine what he’ll do to me if he finds out you’re sayin’ all these things—“

You wave, completely detached from reality. “Aw, fuck him. Never cared much for him, anyways. Was always tryna control my life.”

Joel actually can’t believe what he’s hearing. It’s like some strange music to his ears, but it feels so wrong.

“And, y’know what? He can’t control me now.” You say matter of fact before you’re hopping off your bar stool, and shifting to stand in front of Joel. “I’d love to hear his thoughts on this.”

In a moment of completely blind, unadultered passion, you fuse your lips to Joel’s. His left hand comes up to take purchase on the skin of your neck while the right lands on your waist. He moans, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

You laud the sweetness of Honey on his tongue, and drink the lustrous flavor of him. He’s so steamy. So beautiful, for an older man.

And now that you’re back in the same town, then who knows what’ll happen?

“Joel?”

He hums against your lips, holding tightly your skin.

“Take me home with you.”

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (12/?)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, descriptions of sexual fantasies, smut, the angst, semi-public sex, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

You will live with me.

She didn't know why this thought simultaneously frightened and relieved her.

The truth was that she had always wanted just that.

To be with him.

To their relief, Aegon recovered quickly and remembered his lesson well, appearing no more at his brother's premises.

The state in which he returned to her that morning, the way he looked, sobbing like a small child exactly as he had done then, that summer, meant that even though she knew what he had done was wrong, so very wrong, she could not denounce or reject him.

She knew that something had simply snapped inside him and that he was terrified that she would leave him now.

Although he had thought for sure that this would be the end of them, she saw his sincere despair, what he had hidden inside for so long as well as the depth of feelings, which made her finally believe that he really loved her.

He loved her and it was a love beyond reason, deep and hot, terrifyingly dark and giving her a sense of security at the same time.

From the moment she made her choice, it seemed to her that for some reason something had changed, although she did not know why.

In her mind, they had simply started living together as a couple.

They worked together, studied together, shopped and cooked together, talked for hours in bed, made love and fell asleep in each other's embrace only to wake up the next day and start all over again.

After she turned off her phone so she wouldn't see the missed calls from her mother and Jace, a strange calm settled in her mind.

The calm before the storm.

They both knew it, but they didn't talk about it, focusing more on spending time together, enjoying the simple closeness, the touch of each other's hands, the kisses on the forehead and nose, the safe, warm embrace of their arms.

Her uncle's jealousy had prevented him from forming any kind of relationship with Robb that she could recognise as warmth, however, the fact that he had then stood up for them meant that they had no longer glared at each other with malevolent glances and both seemed to have come to terms with their presence.

She knew that there had been some sort of complete climax of his emotions that morning, and that everything he had felt had poured out along with his tears, which had for some reason made his nature and behaviour soften a little, at least in her presence.

It seemed to her at certain moments that he was a child again: not in terms of his naivety or the vocabulary he used, but something in his gaze, his touch, the way that even when they were among other people he would lay his head on her thighs, sitting on the grass with her, used to her always stroking his hair, made her feel that he was that boy again.

He seemed tired to her, but also relaxed and at ease, his manner and reaction no longer so aggressive with his existence limited to working by her side and being as close to her as possible.

She knew he was trying to recover, to pull himself together after what had happened, to understand who he was now and what he really wanted.

This theoretical calm was disturbed when Criston called him, saying that his people wanted to meet with him to discuss a few things. The expression on his face as he listened to Cole was unnatural and some part of her thought he was afraid to go back there.

He was afraid of what they all thought of him now.

"Let me go with you." She said and before he could refuse, she completed her thought. "They know we're together. Let them see that I am doing this of my own free will. That you are no deviant or rapist."

He swallowed hard at her words, looking blankly at his phone, fighting with himself in his mind.

"…only this one time. On the condition that you stay next to me all the time and don't speak. Do you understand? Even if I tell them something you don't like. You can't rebuke me in front of my men." He said coolly, looking at her carefully, and she sighed.

"Do you really think I could do this to you?" She asked in pain, seeing that he was closing himself in the stone fortress of his mind again.

Something changed in his gaze, warmth and affection flashed across his face, proof that he felt something deep inside himself at her words.

"No. Of course not." He whispered in shame, looking down at his fingers as if to remind himself that, in fact, she had never done anything to hurt him.

That she had always been on his side.

She wasn't quite sure how a mafia boss's girlfriend should present herself: she imagined girls in short leather skirts and cabaret tights, with cut-out cleavage and strong, defiant make-up.

She decided she wasn't going to pretend to be someone she wasn't and wore a simple, black, tight-fitting dress, the only one she had with her, her hair loose and falling in light waves over her shoulders.

She wondered if her uncle would comment on her appearance in any way, he, however, was immersed deep in his thoughts, clearly impatient, walking around the room.

"Ready?" He asked as she turned towards him, and she nodded.

"Let's go."

As they got into the car, midnight struck on the clock: all around them the road was empty and dark. She swallowed quietly as she looked at her fingers, wondering if she should ask.

She decided, however, that she couldn't stand it and needed to know.

"Will Alys be there too?"

She noticed out of the corner of her eye that he flinched at the mention of that name and glanced at her quickly, surprised, looking back at the road after a moment.

"No. Where did that question come from?" He asked, forcing himself to be calm, but she heard his voice tremble.

She felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that he was terrified.

That there was something between them that he didn't want her to know about.

"She told me that you were sleeping with each other. I found out from her that you overdosed." She explained, turning her gaze towards the side window, feeling an unpleasant discomfort in her heart.

The thought of their naked, sweaty bodies entwined together, their heavy breaths, her hands trailing over his skin made her feel tears under her eyelids.

She heard him draw in a loud breath, at once terrified, impatient and frustrated, his tongue licking his lower lip before he spoke his next sentence.

"There's been nothing between us for over a year. Since…" He didn't finish and she looked at him, wondering if what she was thinking had happened.

He revealed to me the name he calls you by accident.

Let's just say it slipped out to him in a moment of elation because he forgot it wasn't you lying beneath him.

She remained silent, feeling that he was tense and angry, sensing subconsciously that if she kept dragging the subject and asking more questions, he would eventually explode.

There has been nothing between us for over a year.

Although she should be relieved, her body was filled with sadness, tears one after the other running down her cheeks at the thought that instead of writing her off, meeting her, he preferred to fuck another woman, to spend time with her, to open his heart to her.

"– hey – hey, baby – I told you, there's nothing between us anymore – why are you crying? –" He asked in a shaky voice, placing his hand on hers, his voice soft and quivering as his thumb stroked her skin in a gesture he surely wanted to comfort her with.

"– I wrote to you for eight years – begging you to see me – to talk to me – and you spent that time with her – that realisation hurts me so much –" She muttered in a breaking voice, suddenly bursting into sobs, hiding her face in her free hand, the other held clenched on his.

"– baby, no – no, no, no, shhh –" He mumbled out in a panic, stopping at the side of the road, leaning over her immediately as he switched on the emergency lights.

He stroked her cheek and unbuckled her seatbelt, pulling her close to him, and though she didn't want it, she allowed him to lift her awkwardly and sit her on his lap.

She twisted, trying to find some more comfortable position as his arms locked her in a tight embrace, snuggling her face into his neck. His lips placed several warm, lingering, sticky kisses on the skin of her face before he sighed heavily, apparently trying to gather his thoughts.

"– I was afraid to meet you – I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to let you go – that I would pull you down with me – and that's exactly what happened – with her I was only fulfilling my fantasies about you, but we weren't in a relationship – we were both sleeping with other people at the time as well –" He muttered and she just listened, shocked by his words, letting his fingers comb lazily through her long hair.

"– the first woman I fucked was twenty years older than me – I guess I was looking for a reflection of my mother in her and just wanted someone to hug me – when she put her hand in my trousers, when she sat on top of me – mmm – I felt dirty – I closed my eyes then and thought of you – I imagined you lying on a towel on the beach in a bathing suit, reading a book – I imagined that you looked at me and smiled – that you held out your hand to me and told me we should go swimming – that as soon as we were submerged in the water up to your waist, I drew you to me and kissed you –"

He whispered in a trembling, breaking voice, and she just continued in his embrace, horrified and heartbroken by what she was hearing, feeling herself whooping with her own tears as she tried to catch her breath.

They both sighed as one of his hands slid down to her thigh, travelling lower and lower.

"– I imagined that you enjoyed it – that you moaned when I enclosed your buttocks in my hands – when my fingers pushed the material of your panties aside and sunk in here –" He muttered, clearly letting his fantasies carry him away, brushing his lips against her neck as his fingers slid under the material of her underwear, invading her warm womanhood, dripping and pulsing because of his words.

"– I imagined that you were leaking for me – that when I slipped my fingers into you, you were all wet – ah –" He moaned as, in keeping with his words, he teased her throbbing pussy, moist and slick under his fingers, two of them slowly sliding deep into her slit.

"– Aemond – yes –" She whimpered and they kissed, hot and passionate, panting into each other's mouths, her hips involuntarily beginning to roll back and forth to the rhythm of his hand, letting his fingertips go as deep as he desired.

His tongue burst between her sweet, puffy lips at her words with his grunt of satisfaction, his hand let go of her and reached for his belt, undoing it in a quick, nimble motion.

"– come here –" He whispered, watching with dreamy eyes as she turned in his lap, slipping her panties off her legs, feeling like she was having déjà vu.

It had looked exactly the same when he had betrayed her.

She knew he wouldn't do it this time – the almost childlike helplessness in his eyes, his wide-open mouth, his erection pulsing in his hand which he squeezed with primitive, simple strokes merely looking at her.

She settled herself over him, slowly lowering herself onto the thick head of his cock: they both sighed loudly, wrinkling their brows as if in pain, their hands stroking their cheeks and hair in some powerless attempt to soothe each other.

"– Rhaenys –" He called out to her, as if melting into the darkness that was his heart, like Hades who called out to his Persephone from the cold, terrifying underworld, unable to bear separation any longer, wanting his wife back.

She was like Cora, stolen from her mother by her own uncle, the god of death, cold as black marble, who devoured her and her light every day.

She moaned into his mouth at that thought, letting their lips melt together in greedy, loud, fiery kisses full of their saliva, their tongues colliding and licking each other, their hands clenched on their bodies refusing to let go.

A pleasant tingling sensation rippled through her lower abdomen as she let him slide deep inside her, all the way in, responding eagerly to his every sharp, sure push.

"– yes – yes, yes, yes, baby, yes –" He breathed out into her throat, thrusting his hips forward so that he slammed into her at the angle where he could give her the greatest pleasure. She hugged his neck, pressing her forehead against his, looking deeply into his eyes, seeing in them everything she wanted.

He was helpless, weak, thirsty, terrified, in love.

"– please –" He mumbled, and she snuggled into him, sinking her swollen lips into his, feeling her weeping cunt begin to throb around his erection, sucking it inside. They both groaned, letting their bodies find their own pace, with the loud splats of their bodies building their way to their fulfilment.

"– I love you – I love you –" She whispered into his mouth again, again and again, feeling his cock twitching deep inside her each time, all wet with her fleshy walls, dripping with her desire, his fingers digging hard into the soft skin of her ass letting her know he was close to his peak.

His free hand tightened on her hair and his lips pressed against hers as he came inside her, bursting into a sob the sound of which was muffled by her throat, his eyes clenched in pleasure and pain as one by one tears began to run down his cheeks red with emotion.

There were no words with which she could reassure him, explain to herself or him the relief they felt when they both finally came to terms with what had happened, the fact that there was never any going back for them, that all the bad decisions they had made were because they believed they would only be a disappointment to each other.

Meanwhile, he had found peace, solace, fulfilment in her.

His lost haven.

She cuddled him into her, letting him snuggle against her chest, his arms enclosing her in a tight grip as her hand stroked his hair and face slowly, trying to reassure him.

"– I'm here – it's alright – shhh, my love –" She whispered, her voice like the quiet hum of the sea.

She felt him tremble all over with emotion, his breath heavy and uneven, his embrace pathetically childlike, innocent, wanting only to find shelter.

They lingered like this for a long time, trailing their fingers over each other's bodies, once in a while placing a gentle, warm, soft kiss on each other's skin, his soft manhood still deep inside her. His free hand stroked her bare buttock exactly as it had been before he had forcibly taken her for himself, never to return her again.

Her heart belonged to him.

Before she slid off him she kissed his forehead and his hand found hers, squeezing it, looking straight into her eyes.

"– I've never kissed any of them – I've never fallen asleep next to any of them –" He mumbled, and she smiled, wide and genuine.

They kissed again, this time tenderly and innocently, like when they were children, eight years ago, their lips only pressed together.

She sat down on the seat next to him as he switched off the emergency lights and moved on, trying hard in the darkness to find her panties. When she finally succeeded, she put them on over her legs and sighed.

His hand found hers blindly, their fingers entwined in a warm, sweet embrace.

Her heart was filled with affection so intense that she felt like it would burst.

When they got out of his car and she saw the big blue neon sign in front of her with the words Heavenly Beach and the two palm trees standing just outside the entrance, she felt herself grow sick at the mere memory of what had happened to her there – her uncle must have seen the horror in her eyes, as he walked up to her and placed his hand on her back.

"– let's go –" He said, his hand rising from her back to her shoulder, stroking her skin with his thumb.

The security guards standing in front of the entrance made big eyes at the sight of them – or rather at the sight of her uncle – and of course let them pass without a line, muttering under their breath a quiet ‘good evening, boss’.

He, however, did not answer them, not even bestowing a single glance on them, stepping into his role – when she looked at his face it was like stone, his gaze blank and dark.

Exactly as it was then, that day, during his father's birthday, when they were talking on the pier.

He let her walk in front of him between the people, but his fingers touched her waist, her shoulder, or her back again and again, as if he wanted to give her a sense of security, the fact that he was close and nothing was threatening her.

She swallowed hard as she saw that people sitting at tables or dancing on the dance floor were looking at them, saying something to each other, intrigued and terrified.

She wondered if they had just talked to each other about the fact that she was the famous girl he was related to and liked to fuck.

Although she shouldn't, she felt amusement and pride at the thought.

For her he had given up everything.

For her he defied his grandfather.

For her, he became a different kind of monster.

Her Hades.

When they reached the lodge where his men and associates were apparently seated, everyone froze: there were young girls hugging most of them, some looking more defiant, others sweet, laughing loudly, looking at her with big eyes.

On the table, besides whisky and vodka, lay a white powder that they were apparently just snorting through their noses.

She stopped and looked at her uncle, not knowing what to do or where to sit, after a moment, however, several men moved over, making room for them, seating themselves on the other side.

"– come –" He whispered in her ear so that she barely heard it, his hand touching her back.

So she sat up first, not knowing where to look, and he sat down beside her, his hand immediately on the side of her waist, holding her close.

"– why are there such delays in payment? – I warned your father that one more situation like this and I would take over the Black Storm – I knew he had problems with reading, but I didn't know he had them with counting as well –" Her uncle hissed harshly and coldly, looking over the gathered with a gaze from which she herself shuddered, yet feeling no fear.

His thumb stroked her waist almost invisibly, but she felt it, his gesture indicating that she shouldn't worry about it and let him do his thing.

One of the girls twisted in place, crossing her legs, bending over slightly, probably because she wanted her rather impressive cleavage to be seen better. She smiled in a way that was probably meant to be seductive, but she wasn't sure it impressed her uncle.

When she looked at his face she could see that he was bored and impatient.

"– my father is not happy with the fact that you have assigned him so few people – by having so much goods coming through the club, he thinks he deserves more protection –" She said, fiddling with her necklace with the logo of some expensive, tacky shop.

"– Floris –" Her uncle began, rather calmly and gently. "– don't piss me off –"

The girl swallowed hard, her hand frozen in a half-motion, as if she wondered if she had overheard herself.

"– your father got as much of my people as I saw fit – if he has a grievance, let him sell the club back to me and I'll pay him off – the deal was different – several of my boys complained about you and your sisters not knowing the boundaries of good manners and that you make them drive around town like princesses in their free time –" He said coldly, complete silence all around him.

She looked at him in disbelief, seeing the fire in his gaze, his jaw clenched in rage, his fingers on her waist involuntarily digging into her skin under her dress.

Her heart was pounding like mad.

Floris licked her full lower lip, clearly thinking hard about something.

"– is that your famous niece? – her persona is already legendary in our circles –" She said, something in her uncle's gaze that frightened her.

His face was suddenly indifferent, his irises completely black and empty: she thought he looked like a predator who was just looking at his prey.

She involuntarily touched his thigh, wanting to reassure him, but he didn't look at her, apparently afraid that he would then step out of his role.

"– what's your name? –" She turned suddenly towards her, all eyes on them.

She froze, not knowing what to do or say, for she was not supposed to speak after all – she looked at her uncle, his gaze fixed on her face, full of pain, rage, but also affection.

She felt his hand stroke her waist, his wordless permission for her to speak.

She looked around at the faces around her, men and women huddled against their chests, staring at her as if she were some rare object in a museum they were looking at from behind glass.

"– Rhaenys –" She whispered.

She felt his hand on the back of her head, and with a soft movement he forced her to lean in, nuzzling her face into the hollow of his neck, as if he wanted to protect her.

"– you will get one more of my men, but no more driving you shopping or to the beautician – my men are not your dogs –" He said coolly, but already a little more politely, as if he hoped that if he complied with her request, she would leave her alone.

Floris wanted to say something, but was interrupted by another man, tanned and handsome, with dark hair elegantly combed back and an evenly trimmed beard.

"– we have a problem with one of the deliveries – several packages are stuck at the border – the police are bribed, but the prosecutor's office is snooping around and trying to get the secret service involved –" He said, and her uncle sighed heavily, hugging her closer to him, putting his hand on her head so that he covered her ear.

He didn't want her to listen.

"– talk to who you need to talk to, Cole – we're not short of money, but we're short of trusted people – we need someone in the prosecutor's office – let them focus on the human traffickers, not us –" He said, but she heard it as if through a fog, the blinking, bright lights around her tiring her already exhausted eyes, so she just closed them.

She could hear conversations and music all around her, felt her uncle glancing down at her, stroking her back, apparently wanting her to just fall asleep in his embrace. As a natural reflex, she placed her hand on his chest, where his heart was beating, and he did not push her away.

She could feel him smoking a cigarette, the smell of his black leather jacket, his aftershave and his own scent calmed her, making her finally do what he wanted and fall asleep.

She shuddered when she felt him shake her gently, there was no one around them on the couch. He took a strand of her hair behind her ear, his lips placing a soft, tender kiss on her forehead.

"– we'll sleep here in my office and drive back to the hotel in the morning – okay? –" He whispered, and she only nodded.

She let him take her in his arms and lift her up, holding her buttocks. She threw her arms around his neck, hugging her cheek to his, seeing the last drunken people sitting at the bar and dancing on the dance floor, barely able to stay on their feet, as if through a haze.

They walked into some dark corridor, then she heard the clack of keys and the sound of a door opening. When they got inside it was completely dark until he turned on the desk lamp – he walked over to the sofa and laid her on it, pulling his leather jacket off over her head.

He turned off the light and came to her, laying on the cramped space behind her back, covering their bodies with his jacket, his face snuggled into the hollow of her neck, his hands closed on her breasts.

"– sleep – you're safe with me –" He whispered, and she simply tightened her fingers on his arms, surrounded by his wonderfully familiar warmth.

"– you're my Hades – and I'm your Persephone – that's how I see us –" She hummed, half asleep, and he froze, cuddling her into himself harder.

"– Persephone –" She heard him hum next to her ear and closed her eyes, feeling at peace.

His Queen of the Underworld.

She thought she had only been sleeping for a few minutes when the alarm clock on his phone snapped them out of their deep slumber, but it turned out that it had actually been several hours. They left the club through the back exit to which her uncle had the keys and got into his car, barely conscious and tired.

"– I need to get a coffee at some station –" He muttered, starting the engine, and she nodded.

She couldn't believe that the boy who sat next to her now and the one she saw then, at that table, were the same person.

They stopped at the station to buy themselves something to drink and to eat. Her boyfriend stepped behind her, placing his hands on her hips, leaning over her ear.

"– look how many lollipops you have, a whole lot to choose from – I'll buy you some if you want –" He murmured, placing a soft kiss on her cheek, and she smiled involuntarily, feeling a pleasant warmth in her belly at his words.

"– strawberry –" She said and heard him smile too, satisfied.

"– I'll have coffee, tea, two sandwiches, this strawberry lollipop and this candy bracelet –" He said and she hugged him like a teddy bear, feeling only joy, only peace.

She didn't know how it was possible that they were so happy, that in some fucked up, unexplained way it was working.

They, together.

It seemed so right.

As they moved further down the road it was just beginning to dawn. Eating her lollipop and looking around it was only after a while that she noticed they were driving the wrong way.

"– where are we going? – you need to turn back –" She said, looking behind her, feeling a sudden attack of panic and terror.

No, no, no, no, please, God, no.

Her uncle looked at her surprised, his mouth parted wide when he realised what had frightened her.

"– no – no, baby, easy – we'll go back to the hotel, but later – there's one place I want to visit on the way – nothing bad, I promise –" He said, squeezing her hand in his, but she remained uneasy until she realised that she had seen the landscapes they passed before.

They were driving to the sea.

She felt a tightness in her throat as he parked close to the beach, on the other side of which was the large villa that now belonged to him, where they had then spent their entire holiday.

As soon as they got out of the car she was struck by the pleasant, crisp sea breeze, the squeal of seagulls flying over their heads and that familiar hum. She moved ahead thinking how when she was a child it all seemed so much bigger to her, reaching into infinity, as if this sea had no end.

She felt the tears one by one run down her face as she heard their childish voices in the back of her head, the precious coins, shells, cartridges and bottles they found, thinking themselves explorers.

She pulled off her shoes as she stepped onto the sand, wanting to feel it under her feet – it was pleasantly warm and soft, slightly damp, exactly as she remembered it. She only stopped at the shore, the salt water washing over the toes of her feet, the sun rising lazily over the horizon.

She felt his arms embrace her shoulders, snuggling her back into his body, his lips placed a soft, gentle kiss on her neck.

"– in my fantasies, I always imagined that I would take you here again – that I would be standing with you, as I am now, watching the sun rise –" He said, she heard him smile, while at the same time his voice was breaking, as if he was as moved as she was.

Her fingers clenched on his arms at the thought, her hair blown by the light breeze.

"– have you often thought about what we have lost here? –" She asked quietly, looking far ahead, thinking that somehow a new day had dawned for them too.

She swallowed hard when his fingers ran over the inside of her wrist, tracing the thin line of her scar.

"– relentlessly – it was like torture – thinking of hundreds of scenarios – what would have happened if I hadn't been your uncle, if my father hadn't been submerged in all that shit, if I hadn't lost an eye then, if Rhaenyra hadn't taken you away from there that day –" He said with a regret from which she felt a sting in her heart.

She looked at him over her shoulder, and his full lips, in some natural, sweet reflex of tenderness, placed a warm, soft kiss on her forehead.

"– I took you from your mother – I forced you to sink into the darkness with me –" He whispered, stroking her silky cheek with his thumb, something in the look of his healthy eye from which she felt a pleasant pulsing between her thighs.

"– it was my choice this time –"

He swallowed hard at her words, something in his gaze from which she felt a shiver, as if he had made a decision.

"– I want to be the father of your children – I want us to be a family – to have a home – a future –" He whispered, letting her go slowly – as she turned, he saw that he had knelt down.

"– Aemond, what are you –" She gasped, terrified, unsure if he really wanted to do what she was thinking, his gaze hot and pleading, filled with tears.

"– I want it, Rhaenys – fuck, I've always wanted it – I don't give a shit about this country, about the law, about morality, about good manners, about how and why we're related –" He mumbled out in a breaking voice, looking at her with eyes big with terror and affection, making her heart stop in her throat.

"– but if I pay the right people, if we get a dispensation, we can have a religious marriage, the one in the church – I don't give a damn if I have to bribe the Pope himself and all the cardinals in the Vatican, I don't care how long it takes – please –" He sobbed, clamping his hands on her waist, pressing his face into her stomach, trying to catch his breath.

She swallowed hard, feeling her hands tremble, still raised in the air, tears one by one running down her face red with emotion.

After all, they had been together for such a short time, she thought.

And yet they had loved each other all their lives.

"– yes –" She whispered.

She saw him lift his head, meeting her gaze, his lips parted in a heavy breath of shock and disbelief.

"– do you mean it? –"

She nodded, not knowing what more she could say, feeling helpless and ashamed.

"– we've completely lost our minds –" She mouthed, wiping her red face, trying to calm down as he got up quickly from his knees, reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket.

She involuntarily burst out laughing when she saw that he had taken out the candy bracelet he had bought her earlier at the station.

"– what? – they didn't have rings – I had a difficult task –" He grunted, putting the bracelet on her wrist, sweet and colourful.

She looked up at him with a smile as he pulled her close, looking at her with a gaze in which she saw only love.

"– then you get to pick out a real ring for yourself, and this is something you can eat – it's a win-win situation –" He purred, and as she threw her arms around his neck they kissed tenderly, melting their lips together in a warm, moist kiss.

She stroked his cheek as he pressed his forehead against hers, both of them looking sideways towards the building that had once belonged to his father.

"That's where we'll raise our children. One day."

They walked the distance to the house where they had spent that holiday on foot along the beach, holding hands, taking exactly the same route as every day when they seemed to be the happiest children in the world.

When they finally arrived at their destination and her uncle opened the door with the keys he had taken out of his trouser pocket, she was struck by how, although everything looked the same, it was completely different. The main hall and corridor seemed cramped to her, the smell inside was stifling, indicative of the fact that no one had gone inside for many years.

They both made their way up the stairs – she involuntarily headed for the room that belonged to her at the time.

She looked inside, feeling some strange kind of discomfort and fear, as if she were about to see something terrifying. However, she saw before her an ordinary, bright little room with white wooden furniture, the bed she had slept on for the first few nights, a desk, a few chairs and a wardrobe.

She approached it with a smile, seeing that it was, as always, slightly ajar, the long, old gowns of Alicent sticking out of it.

"– I always thought it was the tentacles of a monster – that's what it looked like at night – I was afraid someone was hiding inside and would devour me –" She said, stepping closer, tucking the soft material into her fingers, feeling her uncle's presence behind her.

She heard him swallow hard, his fingers running over her back in an affectionate gesture.

"– let's go to my room –"

She stared at the bookshelf filled with small volumes of Mighty Vhagar stories panting along with him, hearing his grunts and sighs of pleasure at her ear each time with the soft, lazy thrust of his hips he sank into her moist, warm flesh, welcoming him home.

They were bare; the embrace of their arms held them close, as if they felt subconsciously that they needed to experience this together, here, in this place, to take something that had been taken from them. Her fingers traveled along his neck and down his spine to his buttocks, kneading them in her palms, his low groan of pleasure and the shudder that shook him testified to what he thought of her touch.

"– who took you for the first time? – hm? –" He breathed out into her ear, stroking her soft hair, slowly quickening his pace.

She closed her eyes, tilting her head back, letting his full, thirsty mouth find the crook of her neck, her leaking pussy opening again and again on his hard, swollen erection, filled to the brim with him.

"– you – here, on this bed –" She whispered and felt his cock throb harder inside her, delighted by her response. His fingers clamped down on the soft skin of her cheeks, forcing her to look at him, his mouth wide open, his gaze clouded with pleasure and something else, darker, deeper.

"– are you sure? – not some Robb? –" He hissed, something in his words sounding both threatening and despairing at the same time, his deep desire to regain everything in his mind he had lost over these eight years.

She shook her head, combing her fingers through his short hair, spreading her thighs wider in front of him, rocking her hips in response to his lustful, sharp thrusts, the slapping of their bodies against each other loud and shameless, sticky with her moisture.

"– no – Alys, Robb – it was just a dream, my love –" She whispered. His brow arched in pain as he leaned towards her, his puffy, moist lips finding hers in a sweet, tender, warm kiss, at once childlike and mature, full of affection.

They groaned into each other's throats as his wide hands clamped down on the soft skin of her buttocks, his hips began to slam into her slick, throbbing pussy as if he wanted to erase any trace that deep inside her could ever be another man.

"– I will never let you go –" He breathed out, their tongues meeting halfway, licking the very tips of each other, making them both gasp with delight.

She threw her arms around his neck and let him sink into her mouth, his body pressing her to the bed, which creaked loudly beneath their silhouettes writhing in ecstasy, the slaps and clicks of her moisture so loud that its sound brought her to the edge of her peak.

"– uncle – take care of me – ah –" She mewled and threw her head back, moaning from the sweet delight that shook her body, his loud, surprised gasp told her that he had come too, his body froze in stillness, wanting to focus only on the greedy pulsing of their bodies around each other.

She felt his warm seed inside her, a pleasant tingling in her lips, in her nipples and the corners of her fingers at the thought that her own uncle loved her a little too much.

Afterwards, they lay in silence, cuddled into each other: her head was lying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, the fingers of his hand roaming her naked body from her shoulders, to her head, neck and back, making her shiver.

"– our parents will never accept this –" She whispered, stroking his stomach with her hand. She heard him sigh softly, his fingers combing through her hair.

"– it's too late anyway –"

Although they were terribly tired and could barely see with their eyes, trying to stay awake while they worked, they were both happy. Even though no one understood the meaning of the bracelet on her wrist, he kept playing with it when he said or asked her something, making her walk around smiling all day.

And then she noticed her mother in the distance talking to her professor.

"Miss Strong. Would you please come over?" He called out, and she froze, feeling her heart stop beating.

She'd endured anything, the screams of Daemon and Jace, but not this.

Not her.

When she looked at her uncle, she saw panic in his eyes.

She lowered her head and moved forward, unable to even look at her.

They sat down in one of the tents where the workers usually rested during breaks, but now it was empty, and she knew that this conversation could not be heard by anyone.

Her mother's hand clamped down on hers as soon as he sat down next to her, its familiar touch making her feel tears welling under her eyelids and a deep, all-encompassing shame.

"Why aren't you answering your phone? Do you know what it feels like to die of worry and then hear that your child has turned up with a gangster at his club? What did he do to you that you do things like that, get sucked into this world?" She asked in pain, and she remained silent, looking at her legs, feeling her whole body was shaking.

When she finally looked at her, what she said slipped out of her involuntarily.

"Then, during that holiday by the sea, before he lost his eye. We kissed. I was even his girlfriend for a while. He let me sleep in his bed when I was afraid of the dark." She muttered, feeling the tears of shame run down her face one by one.

Rhaenyra shook her head, looking at her as if she did not understand what she had just heard.

"It never ended between us, Mum. Quite the contrary. We sleep together. We are together." She sobbed out with difficulty, and her mother took her hand from hers, looking at her with wide eyes.

"What did he do to you, what did he put into your head to make you do such awful things? He is using you to show everyone that he has me and Daemon in his grasp. That he rules this city because neither I nor his grandfather can do anything to him now. He brags about you like a trophy. Good God, this is not how I raised you." She said in a quivering voice full of regret and disappointment, from which her heart broke.

She pressed her lips together, playing with the bracelet on her wrist in a nervous gesture, seeing a scar beneath it, his two faces, two parts of his love.

Light and Darkness.

Kora and Persephone.

Her mother had to come to terms with the fact that from now on she would spend part of the year in Hades.

She drew in air loudly, whooping with tears, not knowing what to say.

The words he loves me sounded so cheesy and naïve.

"I love him, Mom. I want to stay by his side."

Her mother shook her head, as if her words had made something inside her snap.

"He will destroy you. He'll drown you in his own greed like tar. He's already done it. He manipulated you into leaving us, your own family."

"It was my decision." She said in pain, feeling her heart pounding like mad, her breath heavy and ragged.

"You have completely lost your mind." She said coldly, rising from her seat, making her freeze all over, feeling a squeeze in her throat. "The door to your home will always remain open for you when your common sense returns. You are an adult and sooner or later you will feel the consequences of your choice. You will never be safe again, you will never be able to go anywhere alone, he will create a cage for you, just like…"

"… just like the one Daemon created for us? I've managed to get used to it. I, at least, don't pretend to be free." She growled, surprised by her own words.

Her mother pressed her lips together in pain and walked out, leaving her with a complete emptiness in her mind.

She felt awful – as she walked out, she felt the sun hit her hard, her face flooded with tears. Her uncle approached her quickly, horror and concern on his face.

"– what did she say? – no, no, calm down – calm down, shhh, come here –" He muttered as she went into a state of complete panic, covering her face with her hands, bursting into such a strong sob that she felt like she was about to spit out her own lungs.

She was unable to control herself or calm down, everything around her seemed to be spinning, his warm hands and arms cradling her was the only thing that kept her from falling to her knees.

You will never be safe again.

You will never be able to go anywhere alone again.

He will create a cage for you.

But wasn't that the life she had lived for as long as she could remember?

Her father, Daemon, her uncle.

She was never free.

She just didn't realise it as a child.

That night they only embraced, but there was something beautiful about it: the thought that he knew she didn't want sex now, but his closeness and tenderness, his broad hands stroking her back and hair, his full lips kissing again and again her forehead and nose.

"When I live with you, will I be able to go out alone?" She asked quietly, and he swallowed hard, running his fingers down her back, surprised by her question.

"Well… it depends where and during what time of day." He said uncertainly, tense.

She pressed her hands tighter against his warm skin – it was so hot he was only wearing black tracksuit bottoms.

"To the shop. To the bookshop. To class." She whispered, his lips placing another warm kiss on her forehead, clearly wanting to soften what was about to leave his throat.

"I'm constantly being watched. People who don't wish me well probably already know that you're not just a chick I fuck. You are my weakness and if I lose my guard, they will try to take advantage of that. I would prefer to keep the risk that something could happen to you to a complete minimum." He explained hesitantly, brushing his fingertips against her collarbone.

"So no." She said regretfully, feeling an unpleasant chokehold in her throat at the thought that she had escaped from one cage only to be locked in another.

She heard him sigh as he lifted her chin with his finger so that she looked at him.

"If something were to happen to you because of me. How would I explain it to your mother? To Daemon? How would I continue to live with it? We can go to your classes together. You can be driven to the shop and other places by my people, who will just wait for you in the car and not bother you. We will work something out. You are not my prisoner, but I have to keep you safe in some way. Do you understand me?" He asked, and she looked at him.

"Are you going to check my phone?"

"No."

"How can I be sure?"

"I trust you."

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, his fingers tracing gently across her cheek making her feel a pleasant shiver run down her spine.

"I want you to take me with you when you run your errands."

"Absolutely not." He replied immediately, his face curved in an expression full of annoyance and frustration.

"Why? You did it last time." She muttered in pain, feeling rejected, like a small child who could not be trusted with an adult task.

"It was a mistake. I exposed you." He said regretfully, his thumb running over the line of her jaw. "It will never happen again."

"So you're going to come back in the morning to fuck me, have breakfast, go for a walk with Vhagar, sleep off, and then disappear again, leaving me alone?" She asked with despair, unsure if she could bear what he asked of her.

She saw him press his lips together, horrified at how it sounded from her mouth, certainly simply not knowing what to say.

"What do you expect from me?" He asked quietly. She was silent for a moment, feeling the quick pounding of her heart.

"Honesty. If I have to endure this in silence, I want to know what's going on. I want you to tell me what's happening in your clubs and pubs, what problems you're having, what you're facing, who you're seeing. Because if you can't give me either honesty, freedom or choice, then there's no hope for us."

"Would you leave otherwise?" He asked, looking at her with his eyebrows arched in pain, stroking her warm cheek with his palm.

"If you had locked me away, told me nothing and treated me as your consolation prize after a hard day? What would you do if I made you sit in my flat, while I met with Robb? You would certainly be a happy, fulfilled man then." She said coldly, making him swallow hard, lowering his gaze in shame.

"In that case, I'll tell you everything." He whispered.

She shook her head and grinned under her breath, feeling tears under her eyelids.

"You know what the worst thing is? That I don't believe you."

He looked at her, his eyes big and filled with suffering, as if something in those words of hers had hurt him particularly badly.

"I'm trying."

She felt her heart squeeze at his words, which were so simple, so direct.

So sincere.

Because, after all, she knew they were true.

"I know."

He licked his lower lip and drew in air, as if he was thinking very hard about what he wanted to say, as if he was afraid he wouldn't be able to describe it properly.

"I get the feeling that whatever I do – no matter how hard I try – it's not enough for you. You always want more. As if it were that simple. To protect you at the same time, to meet all your needs, to not come into conflict with Daemon and to be a good student. I stand caught between dozens of things and get lost in it. The right choice in one context is the wrong one in another. I don't know what to do to please you anymore." He confessed in a trembling voice filled with regret, sadness and fatigue, from which she felt ashamed.

While her feelings and thoughts were valid, she realised on hearing his words that she had put an enormous amount of pressure on him without even thinking about how he would be able to bring all these things together and at the same time make their world not fall apart.

"You're right. I'm sorry." She whispered, his eyes growing wide in surprise, as if he hadn't expected to hear that from her. "I know how hard you're trying. I'm proud of you and I love you more than ever before. The reason I have a lot of concerns is because I realise how difficult our situation is. I just want us to succeed."

"I want us to succeed too." He muttered. "It's the only thing I want. But please, baby, try to understand me."

There was something sweet and natural about the way their bodies snuggled into each other and embraced, wanting to comfort and soothe each other, to give them the feeling that they were trying to find their way together.

She decided that there was no turning back for her now.

Parting from him would mean that she would always be dying in agony.

When their work ended, their professor thanked and congratulated them all, telling them that all the objects they found would be exhibited in the castle museum after conservation.

Her fiancé was tired, but also happy: after just a few days there he was able to work independently, knew the procedures and was able to find his way in this rather chaotic world.

The oldest thing he found were the remains of a beautiful medieval steel dagger, of which he even took a photo as a souvenir.

She thought fondly that their childhood play had turned into a passion.

They were both excited at the thought of her moving into his apartment. It was in the city centre in a very nice, modern high-rise building and was surprisingly large.

When she stepped inside, she noticed a huge space stretching out in front of her: the gigantic living room was decorated with nice modern dark wood furnitures. A big sofa, bookshelves and a TV was practically all that was there – one of the walls was composed of only windows, making the whole room seem incredibly bright.

Adjacent to the living room was the kitchen on one side, while on the other stretched a small corridor leading to other rooms and the bathroom.

"Where is Vhagar?" She asked, not seeing her or her bedding. Her uncle looked at her surprised, placing their bags on the floor.

"At Helaena's. She took care of her while we were away. She'll bring her back tonight." He explained and nodded for her to follow him.

He opened one of the rooms in front of her, which looked like a gym and storage for things that didn't fit in the other rooms.

"It can be your room. So you can run away from me when you want and all that. I'll organise a gym in the basement, it's quite spacious." He hummed, running his hand over her back. She looked up at him and nodded.

"I've ordered a removal team for your house. They should bring everything tomorrow if they don't encounter any difficulties." He said, heading towards the kitchen. "I don't have anything to eat. We have to go shopping."

They spent the rest of the day lazily – they cooked the simplest spaghetti and ate it while watching TV – there was a programme on ancient Egyptian history that was airing at the time, which piqued their interest, so they just spread out on the sofa with their bowls and listened to a lecture by one of Egypt's most famous archaeologists as he spoke about the pyramid at Giza.

It was so wonderfully normal.

She felt uncomfortable when Helaena brought Vhagar – she didn't know where to look, thinking with shame that she must have thought she was a complete idiot after trying to take her own life by living with the man who did this to her in the first place.

"Are you two together?" She asked softly, and her brother nodded.

"I'm glad. Take care of each other." She said, and she felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that she was the first person to wish them well.

Her uncle looked at her, a gentle smile on his face that made her hot.

Hades and Persephone.

"We will."

_____

Author's note: My husband often asks me when we argue what I expect from him and describes his feelings about how the situation looks from his perspective. He doesn't do it maliciously, and it helps me understand that sometimes I really want something different than what I say and that there is often a lot of truth in his words. I didn't know for a long time how to lead the conversation between Aemond and Rhaenys at the very end when they talk about their future and difficult topics and it turned out that the best scripts are written by life, lol.

[cheesec4kee]

hi beautiful !! i hope you had a wonderful easter (if you celebrated) and are well. can you please write a charles x reader isnpired by colonge by beabadoobee !! maybe like a secret relationship they have to keep private

much love xxxx

hate what this song is about — CL¹⁶ ୨୧

keeping it private to respect his boundaries, but is it wrong for you to want a little more?

**warnings ! : gn reader, slightly if not very ooc Charles, angst (sorry if this wasn’t what you wanted I couldn’t help myself), mentions and acts of intimacy, unprotected sex (do not try at home!!), not proofread, slight smut, cliche writing lol

**a/n ! : we’re just going to ignore how i disappeared for like months without a single trace and how this is so rushed lol. I completely lost track what I was supposed to write about and maybe this ended up not being similar to the song at all so it’s probably weird but either way hope you enjoy this :P (reblogs very much appreciated!)

— angst (and slight smut?) under the cut

You would love if Charles could just stay for a little bit longer, a little bit more. And though it was selfish to admit, you couldn’t help the frustration bubbling up inside of you when you could barely see him, how the two of you couldn’t go out like a normal couple because of how he wants to keep you safe from the flashing cameras of the paparazzi — the microphones and the mountain of questions which would burden you. And you wished you didn’t care, wish you could just let it go, and accept the fact that he’s just trying to protect you.

But you can’t. You want him to come back home to you, to call you back in a hour and ensure you that he was fine. You want him to — shit, the list goes on.

And you wish he could leave the scent of his cologne, how you see couples wearing their significant other’s clothes, you want that to be you. And you should’ve heed his warning when he mentioned he doesn’t have a lot of availability to give you the attention you deserve, and fuck you should’ve taken it into consideration because you were struggling so much — struggling to take in the fact that he wasn’t here with you whenever you needed him, that he wasn’t here with you doing things a normal couple would, no — you felt like a hoe he would pick up on the streets to fuck.

There were nights you find yourself spiraling, swallowed by the darkness of your room bunched up in your blanket while growing dizzy at the thoughts haunting you, thoughts of how you weren’t conventionally attractive or seductive enough for him to love you. And it hurts, no matter how much he reassures you, his praises slipping past his lips and how beautiful you are, you could hardly believe it. You could hardly believe the fact that he genuinely loves you, even if it was such a mean thing to think about, how much of a terrible significant other you would be for thinking about such thing and how hurt he would be once he found out.

You hate the fact you felt like a toy during intimacy, a toy for him to use then discard so easily on the streets, and you wish you could have more than that, you want to be more than just a toy for him. One round wasn’t enough for you to feel it. To feel how much he loves and cares for you, to feel how he wants you the same way you want him. To feel satisfied. And maybe you’ve been reading too much books, because oh how badly you want him to kiss your neck and leave pretty markings, own you against your own will — you want it all.

It’s fucking toxic. The way you want him so much and all to yourself, how you could barely give a shit about anyone else if it wasn’t him. You couldn’t last a day without thinking about him, without needing the constant reassurance from him that the two of you would be fine — because he claims that your relationship will be public very soon with a tender kiss to your forehead which sends pleasant tingles down your spine, claims that soon enough, you two could be a regular couple together, out in the public — going on dates, and he promises, that you’d enjoy it.

“Please, kiss my neck.”

And the silence that follows is stomach swallowing, how you noticed the way his expression softens a little while he caresses your cheek gently, his hot breath grazing the side of your jaw gently, noticing how he whispers softly into your ear.

“You know I can’t do that, sweetheart.” and though you’ve heard it so many times, it still hurts. It still feels like a punch right in the gut. You could feel the disappointment creeping up inside your stomach, the way your arms grew slightly more tense around his neck, how a forced smile tugs the corners of your lips as you instinctively reply with, ‘it’s okay, I get it.’

But you don’t. You don’t get it. You don’t get how a simple kiss on your neck would be such a big risk, how it would be like gambling all your investments away on a double or nothing bet. You hate how you don’t feel satisfied despite the fact he was so deep inside of you, thighs wrapped around his waist, your walls clutching him tightly. You hate how you can’t focus on the feeling of desire and pleasure while having intimacy with him, having to fake your pleasure and enjoyment, you hate how cumming doesn’t feel like a wave of emotions and relief anymore, you hated it — hated it all. It’s like it was so hard to ask for, to be a normal couple. He’s done it with other people before you, so why is it so hard with you?

The sound of skin slapping and the lewd squelching noises bounces off the room, followed by the heavy breathing and soft pants slipping past from both of your lips as he rolls his hips, grunting and lost in pleasure — but you were lost in your own world, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes and slowly streaming down your cheeks, but they weren’t tears of pleasure, no. You hate how selfish you are, hate how the tears streaming down your cheeks aren’t from pleasure during intimacy right now.

You want the floor to open up and swallow you whole. You could feel the way your gummy walls drag against his cock, and you should be loving it right now, should be shuddering and moaning his name — but you weren’t. You can’t, no, not anymore. Even after he shoots his load inside of you, hot and thick ropes slowly oozing out of your hole as he pulls out, mixed with your own mess, you weren’t satisfied. You needed one more round, to ensure what you were feeling was just fake — to ensure that you were just overthinking things.

“let’s go for another round.” And you should’ve put in thought about the possibilities of his answer instead of blurting it out. You noticed the way he pulls back slightly, looking at you hesitantly — the way a forced chuckle escapes his lips as he pulls his boxers up with a small shake of his head.

“wish I could, pretty. but I got work to do,” he breathes out, chest heaving and breathing still heavy and labored from the ‘intimate’ moment the two of you had just shared seconds ago. And he notices the way you shift in the bed uncomfortably, the way disappointment creeps up into your eyes, written all over your face and it made him feel a little guilty, how your intimate moments had always been so rushed, not slow and sensual like how it should be — but he can’t afford that, no not right now. He has far better things to do, he thinks.

He leans forward, brushing the hair out of your face and pressing a soft, tender kiss against your forehead while murmuring soft praises and how he’ll be back soon which you knew was complete bullshit before pulling back and slipping his shirt back on, zipping his pants up as he packs up his stuff swiftly — walking out of your bedroom and leaving you there on the tousled, stained sheets of your bed.

‘Are you attractive?’ No, you don’t think so. It was somehow a miracle you had managed to even pull a man as gorgeous as Charles. Your thighs clench, sticky and messy with cum as you lay there, naked — chest heaving as you try to focus on anything else then him, than what had just happened. No matter how much he reassures you that you’re perfect, how he loves you for you are — you can’t find it in your heart to believe him. You were certain he was beyond annoyed by now with you constantly asking for his reassurance, and the thought made your stomach twist, how he would wake up late in the mornings to reply to you, to reassure you. You despise the fact that no matter how much you try to get yourself distracted, even in the showers, all you could think about was him. About your relationship, about the fact he denies having a partner out in the public when you’re here, hiding in his shadow.

You’ve been on and off so much lately, constantly going from confident that he indeed does love you, to back to overthinking everything and pressing the send button on your phone. You let out a sigh, cleaning up the mess between your thighs with a hot, damp towel and pulling the sheets off from your bed. You try to ignore the uncomfortable churn of your stomach, how heavy your heart feels and how your bottom lip is quivering. Your brows furrow as you feel the numbing on your arms, and maybe you’ve been hurting too much — because intimacy with Charles has just been so draining lately, no longer sensual and passionate, leaving you longing and wishing for more.

Not any amount of roses and candles lit inside your room could bring the sensual and passionate feeling anymore. Even if the room smelled pleasant, even if the room no longer smelled like his cologne which has now left you with a burdening feeling, it didn’t feel the same anymore. It was like that feeling was long gone, no longer present in the bond between you two. The once, passionate and loving bond the two of you had was long gone in your eyes, only left with the burdening feeling of being just a mere sex toy for him to use then discard, forget about, and move on.

He’s been in your head too much lately, and fuck you hate it. You hate it so much, you hate the way any simple thing could remind you of him so easily, how doing mundane tasks couldn’t be done without you thinking about him at least once. You hate the way the discomfort creeps up on you and how your shoulder tenses as soon as the thought of him comes back to haunt you, like he was always lurking at the back of your mind, like he was always there to creep up behind you and haunt your whole being until the unpleasant fate of death would soon wash upon you.

‘You’re so pretty.’ He would say, and gosh you’d explode. His praises would constantly ring in your head, the thoughts of him were always so confusing. A part of you wanted to love him, and another part of you wanted to hate him. You were conflicted — because he’s a good boyfriend if you exclude the ‘secret relationship’ and the lack of time he has for you as of late. You just wanted him to take a break from all the racing, all the paparazzi and the fame — from everything. You know it’s selfish to think of such things, but shit — you wanted, craved his attention so badly.

And you’ve been home alone, watching him race on the TV, wishing you could be there to celebrate and congratulate with him, not staying home because it was ‘too risky, and you’d be bombarded with questions.’ You constantly found yourself shifting in the couch uncomfortably, thumb hesitating to press the call button on your phone — brows furrowed in thought.

‘Won’t you just drop your shift and pick up the phone?’

Before you could stop yourself, to stop and think for a minute, you found your thumbs acting on their own — typing in its own message that they’ve been dying to type in, thumb hovering over the send button hesitantly until you ‘accidentally’ slipped and sent the message.

“I wanna break up.”

an : this is so different from the song cologne lmao but I literally don’t know anymore

[lightwing-s]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐢 ; 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: It was a normal night, till he had to look for you. And then, the storm began.

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

word count: 8k warnings: pregnancy, talks of abusive parents, mentions of abortion.

a/n: as Jesus is reborn, so am I! Happy Easter to everybody that waited so long for this chapter to come out. I'm sorry it took me so long, but I got so busy this past month that if I hear anyone say 'illicit trade' or 'online trafficking' I might kill somebody lol. I hope this chapter compensates for the time, though. It is mostly Jason's pov, with references to the reader as she/her rather than you because I thought it might sound better. Idk, lmk if it's weird lol.

a/n 2: also, I can't begin to thank everyone for the incredible support in this series. I've got so many messages that had me on the verge of tears with happiness and how sweet they were. I trully hope I'm capable of continuing to bring you guys joy through this series and other stories. I love you all, and thank you so much for allowing me to finally let my ideas become words, and my words to have meaning

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

links: previous ; next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

A cold shiver ran up Jason’s spine. The soft breeze coming off the opened fridge climbed up his shirtless torso, drying the sweat on his skin and leaving it cold and sticky. The nearly freezing water slid down his throat, giving him the refreshment he craved for after a long session of training, and an even longer day of work.

It was finally over. His session, his day, his week. Saturday couldn't have come sooner. Sighing in relief, he refilled the water bottle, shoved it back into it’s previous place and turned on his heel heading for a much needed shower. He was tired. Drained. And all he wanted to do was drop down in his bed and sleep for a whole entire night.

Picking out his phone from his joggers’ pocket, he took one last peek at the screen. Almost 10:00pm, and a weather report of an incoming rainstorm soon. Perfect, he thought. He loved to sleep to the sound of rain. So, he locked his phone, threw it on the sofa, and rushed to the bathroom, hoping to get a shower before it got too cold, leaving fast enough to get to bed before the raindrops started to fall.

He stripped down his pants in front of his mirror, a quick stop to admire his progress. Chest, arms, and back. All proof of his hardwork and commitment. And yet, a reddish mark by his neck was what really caught his attention. Roy had poked fun at it earlier, but his joke couldn’t be farther from the truth. A bug bite, as simple as that. An allergic reaction to a stupid bug. But that stupid reaction, that stupid mark, brought him back to the last time something like that was left on his skin.

Yn had left with countless marks after that brief session in a stranger’s office. Enough to last him a while. But not more than the first time he had you, right under the same roof he was at now. Marks on his neck, on his chest, arms, and back. If he thought too long of it, he could feel her lips warming his skin, making his mind go crazy, and his blood to boil.

Shaking his head, he tried to keep those thoughts away. It wasn’t time. It wasn’t appropriate. Yn was now the mother of his child. Nothing more than that. He couldn’t keep the thought lingering. So, sliding the glass door open, he entered the shower, hoping to wash away all the thoughts off his mind.

As the cold water hit his shoulders, relief spread to his entire body, even if the chilling weather of the start of fall was not the most adequate for such water temperature. Sinking his head under the cascade, he closed his eyes, mind emptying, and peace reaching him after a long and rough week.

It was silent in his head. But it wasn’t enough.

He couldn’t wash his mind off of Yn. It was first the night he had you over, and under him, moaning his name repeatedly in his ear.  He remembered how soft her skin felt, how light was her touch, and yet he couldn’t forget the burning pain her nails had left on his back. 

He drowned in the memory of her intoxicating smell, and how the skin under her ear tasted sweet. For a moment, even through the freezing water, he swore he could feel her blood catching fire running through her body, warming him along the way through their skins, glued to one another, tangled in each other, in a night he would never forget.

And then came the memories of the second time. How annoyed she was, and how easily she gave in to him. It was like her body responded to his, knowing it was only him that could give him the pleasure she craved. He missed the feral, animalistic, feelings of that afternoon, and how she fit perfectly around him.

Stop, he thought to himself, opening his eyes to the bright room. This isn’t okay. But again, it was already too late. His throbbing cock rested against his lower abdomen, hard and leaking. He smelled his arousal mixed between the smell of his soap, and his hand reached for his tip, light touches already driving him insane. Resting his hand on the cold porcelain tile, he allowed his eyes to close again.

And then, he remembered the picture. Sent to him just a few hours earlier. It wasn't dirty. On the contrary, it was as innocent as one could be. It was her, playing along with a baby toy, those usually overpriced, but that could distract even a grown adult. And thus she was, distractedly playing with the toy as a picture was snapped without her acknowledgment, and probably sent to him without her knowing either. Her barely visible smile caught his eyes immediately. 

For the almost six months he had known her, it wasn’t a sight he got to see often, but that had been gracing his presence much more frequently now. It was beautiful. To him, it was art. Pure and soft. Bright and warm. He could watch it all day. He remembered the first time she smiled at him, in his kitchen, over snacks and laughter. Just before he had her pinned under him in the most intense lovemaking session he’d ever had.

He cursed himself. How could he turn an innocent picture into fire for his wet dreams? But how could he stop thinking of the soft skin of her neck, almost the focus of that picture, when it was exposed right there just for him to see? How could he stop his mind from wandering when it had been so long he had been with anyone? When he had been with her.

Only a few touches brought him his high, spilling all over his wall like a firetruck. Gosh, he hasn’t fucked anyone in so long it was almost pittyful. Feeling himself grow soft, he sunk himself in the water again, washing his face ferociously to wash the shame away. He wasn’t religious, but he prayed he could keep you out of his mind. He couldn’t keep doing it. Things had changed. It wasn’t appropriate. Fuck.

He walked to his bedroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Straight to his closet where, after a few minutes of searching, he found the new pair of sweatpants he had gotten. Gray like all others he owned. Putting it on, he returned to the kitchen, threw himself on the sofa, and prayed, while watching the darkened ceiling, that he could keep her out of his mind.

Soon closing his eyes, the darkness and the tiredness sank him into sleep. Letting go of lights and noises coming from the outside, he allowed the quietness to embrace him. However, his peace didn’t last long.

Underneath him, he felt the incessant vibrations of his phone, even if he couldn’t seem to find the device anywhere. It was just as the phone had stopped that he found it hidden between the pillows, and he unlocked the screen to a scary surprise. 

Yn 6 Missed Calls

“What the fuck!” he screamed out loud, worry slowly creeping up his chest, weighing it down and making it hard to breathe. 

She didn’t call him. Never. Not one single time. He was the one to always call and message to check if she was okay, or to start any conversation. Something must have happened, and going by the sheer number of times she had tried to contact him, it wasn’t good. Quickly unlocking his phone, he typed on the notification, calling Yn back straight away. She didn’t take long to pick up.

“Yn, what happened?” he questioned as soon as she picked up.

“Oh, thank god!” He heard from the other line, but the voice wasn’t hers. “Jason, It’s Vanessa here. Nessie. Yn’s friend.”

“H-hi, Vanessa,” he greeted through his wavering voice. “What happened? Where’s Yn?” he inquired. He wasn’t only met with silence from the other line, although Vanessa’s tense breathing indicated she was still on the call. With a demanding voice, he asked one more time, “Vanessa?”

“Jason…” She took a deep breath. “Yn is gone.”

It felt as if a heavy weight pulled his heart down, as it dropped lower than it ever had. Yet, his mind was empty, none of Vanessa’s words making sense to him. Yn was gone. Gone where? Why? Where was gone? He had so many questions, yet only once made it out of his lips.

“What?!” his voice faltered.

“She’s gone. I don’t know where to.” Vanessa’s voice too was shaky, and seemed to be holding back tears from falling down. “I heard everything through the walls but I was too afraid to go out and find him, because he scares the shit out of me. He’s really huge, you know, he could easily knock me down if I tried to help her,” Vanessa was rambling, and he could hear her incessant steps, as if she couldn’t keep herself still. “And they were fast too, by the time I got the courage to come out they were already gone, and…”

“Vanessa, calm down,” he requested, already fishing for a t-shirt and shoes from his bedroom. Whatever it was she was trying to tell him, it was worrying. Had someone taken her? Why?

“ ’m sorry. I-I just… I got her phone by accident. She accidentally left me with it when she handed me her shopping bags. So I’ve tried calling you ever since.” 

“Are you at home?” he asked and got a hum in responde. “I’m coming over, okay? I’ll be there in a second. But who took her, Nessie, please. Who was it?”

“No one took her,” she started to explain, pausing for what sounded to be a glass of water. Jason too prepared a glass before he left. “Her dad kicked her out. He found out she was pregnant.”

“He did what?!” he nearly screamed on the line, blood beginning to boil. He hadn’t heard much about her parents, but taking by how shaken about the pregnancy at first, he had no doubts they were partially responsible for her nervousness.

“He found out she was pregnant and kicked her out of her apartment,” she repeated. “Well, technically it’s his apartment, he pays for ever- But it doesn’t matter now. She’s gone and we have to find her! She was crying, a lot, and she left with only a backpack and a small suitcase. She can’t have taken much…”

“And it’s going to rain,” Jason added, already sitting in his car after flying down his building’s stairs. It wasn’t just rain, but a storm. She can’t be out in a weather like that, I have to find her. “Wait for me downstairs. I’ll be in front of your apartment in just a minute. I promise we’ll find her.”

“Vanessa!” he screamed at the girl standing on the sidewalk, looking left and right before turning to face the voice that had just called her. Jason had parked by the entrance of the building, fancy enough to have its own doorman and a beautifully decorated lobby behind its glass front doors. “How are you? Have you got any news?”

“I’m fine. At least trying to. And no news of her yet. I tried looking up and down the street, but she’s not around here anymore.” She looked at him apologetic, eyes now evidently holding back a pool of tears.

“She can’t have gone far. She was walking, right?” he asked, looking around at the still fast moving traffic on that grim Saturday night. The sky was starless, and heavy clouds filled it instead.

 “I’m so sorry, Jason,” Vanessa apologized, making him turn. Her chin trembled as her tears fell from her brown eyes. “I heard it all and couldn’t do anything. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hey, Nessie,” he tried to soothe her, calling her by the familiar nickname he so often heard coming off Yn’s lips, and wrapping her in a friendly hug. “It’s not your fault. There wasn’t much you could do. But, please, tell me everything that happened. I’m still trying to understand it.”

Breaking off from his hug, Nessie ran her hands up and down her arms in search of warmth before looking up to meet Jason’s eyes. “Her dad is an asshole.” Oh really?, he thought. “We were coming back from the mall, you know. I sent you the picture while we were there.” He nodded. “When we arrived back her door was open, and it usually means that her parents are around. So she shoved me all of her bags before her mother could snoop in and claimed they were for my cousin’s baby shower. Before I knew it, there was screaming outside and when I went to look, her mother was weirdly pacing around and Yn and her dad were nowhere to be found.

“I thought of running down the stairs, but the elevator was already on the ground floor and I knew I couldn’t make it on time. So I just looked down the window and saw him pushing her into the streets. Her bags as well. I couldn’t understand what he said, but he was still screaming at her. Jason,” she called him, but his attention hadn’t gone anywhere. “She looked so scared, even from that far. I could see her crying, on the floor, and walking down the street. I heard movement, so I hid back in my apartment. I even heard a knock on my door, but I was too scared to open and just started calling you.”

Jason’s rage slowly grew as Vanessa continued her story. How could anyone treat family like that? He couldn’t picture treating his mother, father, or any of his siblings like that. And he specially could never imagine doing something similar to his own daughter. Whoever that man was, he wasn’t a father. He was a fucking monster he wanted to beat up so bad…

“Since she moved here for college he keeps trying to take her back to their hometown, because he says Gotham is a corrupt city and that it will “corrupt” his “baby” daughter,” Vanessa continued her story. “From what she told me, they frequent this church, and he’s seen as this “model citizen”. A joke, let me tell you. He was always controlling of her and her sisters, and they couldn’t ever walk out of line or it would ruin it for him, whatever he meant.

“I’m not sure if it’s up to me to tell you this, but it's not the first time he kicked a daughter out of home. He found out her sister kissed another girl at a party and threw her out. I guess having an unmarried pregnant daughter does the same to him and he kicked Yn too.

“I swear,” Jason ran a hand on his face. “I can kill this man.”

“Get in line. Although I do think you have more chances than me,” she tried to joke and Jason let out a dry laugh. He really could kill that man. With every single word from Vanessa, he only got worse.

A few drops of water hit his head, announcing the rain he eagerly waited for earlier was about to start. “We have to go before the rain gets heavier. She can’t be on the streets in a fucking storm.”

“I called a friend to help us look for her. He’s just by the corner. We can split up and find her quicker,” Nessie informed, waving her hand at a car that parked just before the two of them. She fixed her belt in the passenger seat while Jason rested his forearms on the window.

“You go down the street and look for her south. I’ll go north and look for her there. Nessie, please call me if you…”  he instructed the guy when exalted voices caught his attention. Coming out of the glass doors of the modern apartment complex, a large man and his wife walked out of the building in a loud exchange, aiming for the taxi that had parked just behind Nessie’s friend black SUV. “Is that him?”

The sudden change in his tone frightened Vanessa, and she stood quiet for a while until she responded with quite uncertainty, “Y-yeah.”

In that moment, Jason’s knuckles turned white from how hard he gripped on the car’s window, and his face turned a bright shade of red. Letting go of the car, Vanessa’s scream wasn’t enough to stop him from stomping in the pair’s direction, not even her repeated attempts to hold at his wrist. He shook her hold easily, legs moving fast as he eyes were set on the man responsible for all of this.

Jason exhaled a trembling breath through his nose, and he could hear his own heart thumping in his chest. His arms hung as hard as stone to his sides, and his nails dug deep into the skin of his palms. There were a few blurry sports in his sight, and his eyes burned with anger. He was seeing red, both figuratively and literally, as the neon lights of a store close by shone brightly in shades of scarlet, painting the man’s frame in its bright colors.

The large frame of the man was closer. The bald spot in his head, now much more visible. He didn’t know the man’s name, nor how looked. They never shared a word, or even a glimpse at each other. But Jason knew, oh he knew, that he would never, ever again, let him step a foot close to his girl. He would never treat you like he did, and he would pay for it even if it came little by little. 

That man would never get close to his child and its mother, and he would make sure he remembered his name. Or the feel of his punch.

“Hey!” Jason called him with a loud growl. The old man turned in his direction immediately, unaware of the fist flying into his face.

The man all but fell to the ground with a loud thud, as his wife screamed in despair. His rage not vanishing after he knocked the man down, Jason climbed on top of him, throwing punches left and right to the man’s face and stomach, until he felt his hands aching and he was pulled away from him by two pairs of strong arms.

“Stop! Jason, let go!” Vanessa screamed as he squirmed in the two men’s arms, wanting to go back to the man who failed to sit up while his wife cleared his bloody lips.

“Get over it, mate. Let’s find her,” said Vanessa’s friend, and just then he let it go.

His hand shook as he held the steering wheel. Knuckles bloodied and in throbbing pain. He still drowned in adrenaline from the well beat up he gave Yn’s excuse of a father. Vanessa’s friend, Dale, had followed him to the car to make sure he was alright to drive, but Jason assured him he was fine. The man got what he deserved, and Jason was glad he was the one to deliver it.

Alone in his car, however, he could finally allow his emotions to come out. As he drove up the opposite direction of Dale’s car, a loud scream left his lungs. Pure rage evaded his body, as his eyes burned with tears he hardly fought against. 

Why is it that when it comes to us it is always so messy? Why can’t we catch a break?, he thought. From day one, everything with you was confusing, borderline stressful most of the time. He wanted better, quieter and more peaceful days. If he was having a hard time with all that is happening, he couldn't fathom how she’d be doing right now. And the baby. It certainly wasn’t healthy for the baby.

The lights became blurry as he tried to wipe the tears away, and he had to slow down his car to not cause any unwanted accidents. With the lower speed, he could more carefully watch the sidewalks, the remaining open stores, and street corners, all looking for any sign of her. At a traffic light, red made him stop, and his eyes roamed his surroundings.

However, the blinking lights of a ‘C’ were what trapped his attention. It was a clinic. An abortion clinic. He had to swallow dry as he tried to watch its inside through the glass door. The mere idea of Yn going by it making his heart drop. If that idea ever crossed her mind, he didn’t know, but he prayed it never did. He grew attached to it too quickly. To the baby, and to her. He’d been planning, purchasing, painting and drawing a future in his head, where the two of them would be a part of. He wasn’t sure he could let it go.

When the lights turned green, his foot pressed hard on the throttle, speeding out of there before he got even more nauseous. One street turned into another, and another, and another. Still not a sign that you were around. He was growing more and more desperate as the rain got heavier and heavier. If his hands weren’t hard glued to the steering wheel, they’d be trembling tremendously. It had been long since he’d felt like this. Alone, lost and desperate. A sense there wasn’t much else he could do, and that all he did didn’t seem to work. And as every single second passed without you there by his side, his anxiety  multiplied by millions.

The rain now poured, as if the sky was about to fall down. People rushed around, their umbrellas doing nothing to shield them from the water, and coats and jackets getting drenched as they looked for shelter. He was driving desperately, looking for anything, any sign, any indication that you were safe. He checked his phone for messages from Vanessa, or a call from his brothers he had begged for help.

Dick had called his colleagues, giving them Yn’s description, asking them to keep an eye out. Tim and Stephanie were looking for you in every camera they would hack in the city, and Damian was probably begging rats and insects to lead him Yn’s way.

A lighting strike hit the ground and illuminated the sky. And then he saw it.

Hidden in the darkened entrance of a now closed store, sat on the floor, curled down in a corner, was a girl. A bright orange suitcase laying beside her, a blue backpack resting on her side, as she had her face shoved between her knees. Shaking, from cold and tears. A girl that couldn’t be anyone but you. 

He stopped the car without thinking. Without caring if there was anyone behind him on the road. He just wanted to get to you. Stepping out, he felt the rain soak his head and his shirt, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was that he’d found you. Shouting into Gotham’s dark and gloomy night, he called her name and rushed to your side.

Her head bobbed up as quickly as he ran, and it searched around for the voice was coming from. When she realized it was him, she pulled herself up from the floor swiftly and into Jason’s arms, tangling her own around his waist and letting her face fall into his chest. Her tears soaked his shirt quicker than rain had done, and she shook in his hold and her loud sobs filled Jason’s ears.

His heart broke in one million pieces. The sight of her crying once again, too much for him to handle. He couldn’t even care for the harsh way in which she had slammed against his body, he was just glad you were there. Safe and in his arms. Thus, he held closer and tight, one hand caressing her nape and he left soft kisses at her temples. 

“Hey, hey,” he cooed. “I’m here, okay? I’m here. You don’t need to cry anymore.”

Vanessa and Dale didn’t take long to arrive, but Yn didn’t stop crying even after they arrived there. The two girls, tangled in a tight embrace, cried on each other’s shoulders and the rain dropped as heavy as their tears did. Jason, on the other hand, tried to dry his eyes without anyone noticing, wiping the sleeve of his shirt on his face and turning away.

“You gave that man a good punch out there,” Dale’s raspy voice began by his side, bringing his attention away from the walls. “I would’ve done just about the same if it was my girl who was kicked out like that. Your girl should be happy she has you.” He tapped Jason’s shoulder, that way boys always do, and Jason let out a chuckle.

His girl. Yn was as much his girl as he owned the moon, and yet, he couldn’t make himself correct him.

“I just hope she will be fine.”

“I’ve heard she’s a strong one,” she chimed.

“Yeah!” he agreed with a smile. “My girl really is.”

Watching the two girls, he noticed Vanessa wipe Yn’s tears away, pushing her away then bringing her back into another hug that made Yn give out a teary laugh. She seemed to have calmed down, as no more tears ran down frenetically down her cheeks and her breathing seemed to have eased. Jason, then, decided to walk closer, with the other man trailing just behind. Yn soon took notice, as she gave him a smile as he approached.

“Are you gonna be fine?” Vanessa asked, rubbing a hand over her arm.

“I don’t know,” Yn answered. Her voice was weak, hoarse and fragile. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Jason noticed her chin restart to tremble, and he was about to hug her again if Vanessa wasn’t closer and quicker. Over her friend’s shoulder, Yn’s teary eyes caught his, staring at him sadly. Pulling away from the hug, Vanessa made an offer.

“I can make some space in my apartment for you. It isn’t big but I guess I make it fit, right?”

Giving her friend a soft smile, Yn appeared to agree.

“No!” Jason protested, louder than he had hoped. “I have a spare room. I was planning on fixing it for our baby, but you can stay there. It’s yours. Besides, it would be more practical,” he explained. “I can easily take you to appointments, or even for work. I wouldn’t mind. And when the baby arrives, I can help you with taking care of it.”

He eyed Yn hopefully. “C’mon. I’m the baby’s dad. I wouldn’t be right if I didn’t help you out.”

“I just don’t wanna be a bother,” Yn said.

“Yn, you could never bother me,” he stated.

Staring at her, Jason waited expectantly. He knew she was weighing every option and considering every mild detail. But he just wanted her to say yes. He wanted to have her near. It wasn’t just convenient, it was necessary. To him it was. To have her close meant to always know if her and the baby were alright, safe and taken care of. He wouldn’t worry if she had arrived home, or if she had gotten sick at work. He would know. Because he would be there.

Yn took her time thinking, while Jason agonized in his spot. He had built too much hope in such a short amount of time, he was scared of how he would be if she didn’t accept his proposal. After all, he was just the stranger she was having a baby with, not her best friend. But a response came out, eventually. Nodding shortly, Yn offered him a smile and a watery stare. A stare that said everything she didn’t need to voice, but that he caught anyway. Thank you.

“I’ll miss my neighbor,” Vanessa cried out, and hugged Yn tightly by her side.

“I’ll miss you too, nugget,” Yn returned. “But I’m sure Jason won’t forbid you from visiting me.”

“Would I even have the chance to?” Jason asked playfully.

“No!” they replied in unison, bringing out laughter out of the four of them. Even though the rain progressively got worse, finally, the mood had lightened.

Vanessa offered her jacket so Yn could get in the car without getting wet, and Jason was about to take her bags when Dale stopped him before he moved. “Take care of your girl, I’ll take the bags.”

Nodding in gratitude, Jason instead moved to your side. “Did you manage to get a lot? I mean, out of your apartment. Into your bags?”

Yn only shook her head.

“I can ask Mr. Emmons for the spare key and pick up some of your stuff,” Vanessa said, walking beside her. “He loved you, I’m sure he’d make that exception for you.”

“Are you sure?” Yn asked. “I really don’t wanna bother anyo…”

“Yn!” Jason and Vanessa scolded in unison.

“I’m sorry,” Yn let out a soft laugh. “If you want to, I won’t complain.”

It was past midnight when both Vanessa and Dale left Jason’s apartment. With them, four trash bags full of Yn’s stuff were brought in, and thus started Yn’s moving process. The girls worked on taking notes of everything that had come in the bags, and of everything there was missing. Vanessa was going to play dealer for a few days, and weirdly, she was very excited for it.

While they worked on the bags, Jason and Dale took a look at the spare bedroom. It was nearly empty, except from a few gym items and boxes laying around. With the other’s help, Jason cleared out the room, sweeping the floors and the spider webs off the walls. Also, he made a promise to find her a bed, somewhere. No one cared enough for dinner that night, and the pair left as nonchalantly as they had arrived.

“You can stay in my bedroom tonight. I’ll take the sofa,” Jason explained, once the two of them were alone. “At least until I can get you a bed.”

“It’s okay,” Yn reassured, and left him alone to take a shower.

While she readied to go to bed, Jason made sure he picked up everything he would need to sleep in the living room out of his bedroom. He didn’t want to bother her by coming in and out of it while she was there. He knew she was going to be uncomfortable enough for today, this new arrangement requiring time to get used to. So, he changed into comfortable clothes, prepped his makeshift bed with pillows and blankets, and waited for her to come out of her shower.

The faint water noises coming from the bathroom mixed with the storm sound coming from outside, creating a relaxing atmosphere he was grateful for after all the stress he’d gone through. He could only hope Yn felt as calm as he did now, that she wasn’t hiding any tears from him in her shower. But he knew it was asking for too much, she was not going to get over it this easily. She had cried a lot in the car ride to his apartment, and when he passed by the bathroom door he could hear her sniffles.

It killed him to see her like that. He’d do just about anything to make her stop hurting. Sat on the sofa, he thought about everything in his reach he could possibly attempt to do to ease her pain, but none of them were possible this late at night. However, as soon as the door opened and Yn came out, her hair wet and fresh smell spreading through the whole apartment, his thoughts emptied out to just her.

“I guess I’m going to bed now,” she shyly stated. Jason simply nodded, too stunned with how she looked in just a plain t-shirt and pajama shorts to form any coherent sentence. “Goodnight, Jay.”

“Good night, Ynie,” was all he said as he watched her close his bedroom door behind her.

“And Jay,” she suddenly reopened the door calling out for him. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

Her soft smile was genuine, adorable, and made his stomach spin. In normal circumstances, he’d have told her she didn’t need to thank him for anything. Tonight, though, he didn’t want to argue.

“You’re welcome,” he offered her a gentle grin. But I’d make this your home even if you had yours.

Upon his return to solitude, he hoped the sounds of the night would lull him to sleep. He was tired, and on any other night he’d have dozed off easily. However, tonight wasn’t the case. Even if he closed his eyes, even if he was curled up comfortably, he couldn’t seem to fall asleep. He continuously rolled and rolled until he got tired of trying. So he fished for the remote in the total darkness of the room, and turned on the TV, the volume on the lowest, to see if anything in there could make him sleepy.

He had found a cartoon. One of those late night, highly inappropriate ones, and actually found it to be mildly entertaining. But the creaking sound of the door was more interesting. Lifting his head slowly to look over the back of the sofa, he found Yn peeking out of his bedroom.

“Can’t fall asleep?” he asked, and she just nodded. “Come here.”

Sitting up, he made some space for her to sit  beside him, making sure he left her with the softest pillows. Adorably, she sat down and immediately pulled her legs up to her chest, hugging it protectively, and resting her chin on her own knees.

“What are you watching?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. However, his attention was now far gone from the TV. “I just put it on to distract me. See if I could fall asleep to it.”

Moments of silence followed. Yn’s focus on the cartoon, while Jason was fixed watching her. She looked so serene, it didn’t even look like she had just been kicked out by her own father. He wanted to ask her if she was alright, but he feared she would get mad with how much he had asked it since they’d arrived home. He also wanted to hug her, feel the comfort of her warmth and maybe fall asleep to it, but he knew it would be too much for one single day. So, he was content with the light brushes he’d get on her skin.

“Nessie told me what you did to my dad,” she said suddenly, and Jason got nervous about what she thought of it. It was still her dad, even with all the pain he had caused. He was afraid she’d be mad at him for it. So, he had to explain himself.

“He deserved it,” he quickly added. His throat was dry, but he still insisted. “He deserved it for what he did to you. I could not…”

“I get it,” she broke him off. “It just… feels weird. I’m glad you did, but also not.”

He understood.

“I was mad at him at some point, and thought of doing it myself. But he is my dad. I don’t think I could do it if it ever came to it. Even if I collected all the anger I harvested throughout my entire life, I couldn’t lift a finger against him.”

Her head moved, now facing him with her cheek laid on her legs. Her eyes were intense, but sad. Glowing, but it wasn’t happiness.

“I get it,” he told her. “I really do.” And he continued to look at her till it gave him courage to finally ask. “Was he this bad your whole life?”

She shook her head. “He had his good moments. Few, but they were there. We just had to be doing something he’d actually be happy about.”

“He’d always make us take the classes he wanted. Go to places where he liked to go, and where his ‘friend’ could see him, you know, boast about how great his family was. Even our friends he got to pick. They had to be from church, and from rich families. People we could fawn over, grow attached to like vines. I guess he thought if we were friends with them, he would become friends with the parents, and what better than rich friends for you to parasite, right?

“I don’t even know how he let me come to Gotham in the first place. He made my sister marry young so she wouldn’t go away for college, so I don’t know how he didn’t try that on me too. I mean, he did try, but none of the guys were actually interested in pursuing me for him to insist on it… What?” he questioned when she heard him scoff.

“Why wouldn’t they be interested in you?” he let out before he knew it. Yn shyly hid her face from him before continuing.

“I kinda looked mad all the time.”

“Oh, really,” Jason mused, earning a slap on his bicep.

“I was just… an angry teenager,” he gave her a look. “And young adult too, okay?” she let out a brief laugh. “I don’t know why, I just was. Am. I don’t know. They were just always up my ass, and I guess it got me riled up. I could talk back to them, he might have killed me if I did. So I just… I just…”

“Stocked up with anger?” he finished for her.

“Yeah, I stocked up with anger. And didn’t know where to let it out,” she said, and went quiet for a while. “Was your family as insane as mine?”

“Sorta,” he scoffed. “They are wild, but not bad.”

He didn’t want to talk much, but she looked at him curiously. Almost begging him to talk.

“I was adopted when I was nine. My father had already adopted my older brother, and after me he got Tim, Steph and Cass, and then he found out he had a biological son that is just like him and annoying as shit. I’ll tell you, Damian is a lot. He adopted a cow and just told Bruce to deal with it. Kid is insane. ”

The girl looked at him baffled. A cow? Where would a middle class kid raise a cow in Gotham?

“That sounds… fun,” she gave him a big smile.

“Really?” he wondered.

“My family never did anything out of the ordinary,” she stated.

“My family doesn’t know what ordinary means,” he joked. The two of them laughed, TV show long ignored. Jason never forgot how, when she wanted it, her company could be so pleasant. He felt like she really listened to him, that she didn’t think his takes or stories were just a joke or meaningless. He actually enjoyed having her around, and hoped moments like this would become more frequent with her habiting the same place as him.

“You know,” he found the confidence to start speaking again. “I lied to you… That day at the doctor.”

Yn eyebrows frowned in a questioning look, and so, Jason continued. “I… My birth parents. I know who they are.” 

He felt guilty that day. For lying so blatantly. But it was something too personal for him, something he hadn’t shared with many. It was a part of his life that still hurt him, even if years had passed, and he had finally gotten a new family. He wasn’t ready to share it then, not in front of a doctor, a total stranger. And he knew the risks of his lie. He was omitting important information for his baby’s health and future, but he wasn’t ready.  In fact, he didn’t even know he was ready now. But Yn had been so honest, so open about that part of her life, one he knew now caused her much pain, that he felt the need to offer something back.

It was Yn’s soft hum that broke him from his thoughts and made him continue. “They were addicts. Very poor. I know they did the best the could to raise me, but their addiction was unstoppable. My dad started working with bad people to put food on the table. Last time I checked on him he was in jail. Might as well be dead by now, I haven’t cared to look him up.” His voice came out low, timid. A lump tightened his throat, making it hard for him to speak, but he still insisted. “My mom… She passed away. I’m not sure if it was the drugs, or if she got sick. I just remember her looking really bad.

“I was on the streets for a while, stealing tires and other things, when my father found me. He took me home, gave me food, and I haven’t left there ever since. I mean, I have my own home now, and life wasn’t easy there either, but they still are everything I have. I guess that’s why I grew attached to you so fast… I-I mean, the baby. The idea of the baby. I think I just wanted to have something that is really mine, that I can say I was the one to build and care for. My own family. I just got excited, you know. Let me show you something.”

Avoiding the tears by a millisecond, Jason stood up from his place and went to his closet. There, in the same place he had left it ever since he had bought it, he took the deep brown romper, with cute little ears and an even cuter fluffy tail. He saw it just a few days after Yn came to his apartment with the news he was going to be a dad, just as the idea started to settle in. He hadn’t told his brother, nor his father. The idea just lingering in his head, and once he found it on-line, he had to get it. He proudly got his baby’s first outfit on a whim. But it was too perfect to let it pass, and it was on sale too. It must have been a sign.

Walking fast back to the living room, he dropped at her side on the bouncy cushion. “I got this on-line I think two weeks ago. I thought it was adorable and I just needed to have it. I saw so many babies wearing those on the internet that I couldn’t stop picturing my own baby in one of them. Strolling around, you know. Stumbling on his, or hers, steps, or crawling around in it. Like an actual bear,” he let out a laugh, admiring the garment in his hand.

When he turned to look at Yn, though, he found her eyes watery. Her chin trembled as she bit her bottom lip, an attempt at making it stop. Jason wondered if he had said something wrong. If he had hurt her unknowingly. His own heart started to beat like crazy, bleeding pain upon her painful expression. “Yn? Did I say something wrong?”

“No!”, she cut him before he could finish. She dried her eyes with her hand and continued, “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day, Jay. I’m gonna head to bed.”

Placing a quick peck on his cheek, she might as well have run back to the bedroom.  Her sniffles, barely audible. She left him alone, to his own torturing thoughts of what he might’ve just done to make her react like this. Or was it just the hormones? Did pregnant women just act like this? 

No matter the answer, he stood in the darkness of the night and in the coldness of the rain. But the lingering burn of her kiss on his skin kept him warm, and could finally sleep soundly.

Sunday was quiet, and Nessie had spent the whole day by your side. Not much talking happened between you, her, or Jason. You just hung around, in silent company.

Jason, somehow, had gotten you a bed, and he and Dale, who had stopped by per Nessie’s request, built it in an instant. The room that was now to be yours wasn’t large, but it was enough. You had to learn to leave with enough now. Jason told you he would help you decorate as you wished, even though he had just painted the walls white in expectation of the baby’s gender. He sounded like he was full of ideas for a nursery, excitedly talking about items he had seen on-line or at stores. Nessie joked he might be the one nesting, and not you.

She left early this time, and your dinner with Jason was shared in silence. The two of them had tried to convince you to call in sick at work on Monday, to try to relax a bit more. Let your new reality sink in. But you knew you couldn’t. Sandra needed you, and you needed the distraction.

When morning came, the sun rays hit you straight in the face, the lack of curtains allowing the room to be bright and warm even if it was still early. You came out still in your pajamas, and immediately the smell of food filled your nose. The past few weeks of your pregnancy made you slightly wary of the smell’s potential to make you sick, but it was impossible to deny it smelled good and tasty.

“Good morning,” Jason greeted with a beaming smile. He seemed to be ready to head out to work. “I made you some breakfast. I’ve already eaten.”

“You got me feeling like a baby with all this food and stuff,” you commented. But it was true, he had been doing just about everything to make you feel comfortable and at home in his apartment.

“Hey! You are a baby,” he stated, and you scoffed. “At least while you don’t deliver my baby, you’re baby.”

You rolled your eyes at him, unable to hold back a smile. “Anyway, I have to go now. Are you really going to work today?” he asked. You just nodded. “Okay…” he breathed out. “If you need anything. And I mean, anything, don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll be ready to answer you whenever.”

“You don’t have to worry, Jay,” you started, but one notification from your phone stole your attention briefly. “I’ll be alright. I promise.”

Jason looked at you as if he didn’t believe your words. His deep blue eyes boring into yours as if he tried to catch your lie in them. With a deep and long exhale, he accepted, or at least he pretended, that you would be fine without him. “Still, call me, okay?”

“I will,” you promised. “But I don’t think I’ll need to.”

Sitting on the island stool, you took a look at the meal he had prepared you. It really did look as delicious as it smelled. But you suddenly weren’t hungry.

You watched him pick up his bags, put on his shoes and leave. The guilt eating at your chest the entire time. He waved you goodbye with a large grin, happy to be starting his week it seemed. Yet, this morning, you struggled. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat with the notification staring right at you. A memory of your darkest hour.

Picking up your phone, you read it one more time.

Clinic girl Are you still going to schedule your abortion appointment?

It still stung as strong as it did minutes ago, when you first saw it on your screen. Your mind battled with the idea, even though you knew your answer very well. The smell of the food suddenly was making you sick, and your appetite, by this point, had completely vanished. Rubbing at your temples, you decided on putting an end to it.

You It won’t be necessary.

Putting your phone away, you got up to change. And you changed quickly, just like your life had done. Quick and sharp like an arrow, or an assassin’s blade. Changing everything in its course. Soon, you were closing the apartment’s door behind you, taking one last glimpse of what your life had become. Of what your future was going to be. You and him. Your baby soon to come in.

.

.

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[theartofprongs]

Lily's Yearbook

"Sev does Hogwarts publish yearbooks every year?" Lily asks curiously from her spot at the library table.

Severus, who has taken up residence in the seat directly next to Lily, pointedly ignoring the other two Gryffindors at the table, grimaces at Lily's question.

"No Lily, that's a muggle tradition, why would we need such a thing?" Snape shakes his head tersely before pushing his nose farther into his Potions book.

Lily shrugs and hums lightly, "I guess I just think yearbooks are brilliant, oh! Especially the signing! Everyone leaves messages for each other and you get to look through them all summer."

Lily's eyes sparkle with excitement at the prospect of receiving handwritten notes from all of her dearest friend's at Hogwarts, ones that she can re-read during her time away from the magical world.

"Lily I'd forgotten all about yearbooks, it would be so wonderful if Hogwarts had them!" Little Mary Macdonald squeals from across the library table, her smile gleaming.

Marlene also perks up at Lily's excitement, "What's a yearbook?"

These new interjections cause the lone Slytherin tucked into the corner of the table to let out an annoyed huff, "Lily I cannot study here any longer, can we go somewhere that is actually quiet?" Snape directs his sneer at the two girls across from them.

Lily looks over at her two friends, who both have varying looks of disdain now plastered on their eleven year old faces.

"Sure Sev, I'll see you guys at dinner, Okay? Save me a seat if I'm late?" Lily quickly packs her books into her bag so that she can catch up with an already exiting Severus Snape.

"Oh, he is such a git, I don't understand why Lily puts up with that," Marlene snaps, "He doesn't even want her hanging out with people from her own house."

Mary nods in agreement, watching as the two finally disappear out through the library doors. There's a loud echo as the doors slowly close, and then Mary suddenly turns towards Marlene with wild eyes.

"I think I have an idea."

Marlene snorts, "An idea? That's a new one for you."

Mary gasps over dramatically at Marlene's quip, but continues smiling, "No Marly, we're gonna get Lily those signatures, like the ones in a yearbook, so that she can read our notes while she's stuck with him all summer."

"Wow Mary, you do put together some good ideas here and there!"

First year, 1971-1972.

Second year, 1972-1973.

Third year, 1973-1974.

Fourth year, 1974-1975.

Fifth year, 1975-1976.

Sixth year, 1976-1977.

Seventh Year, 1977-1978.

This was a lot of fun for me to do, but it also took me a while to get everything how I wanted. You'll notice that as they get older their handwriting (and for some even their writing utencils) change and grow with them. There are a few different themes and relationships going on throughout this whole thing so I hope you enjoy all the little easter eggs. Also you'll notice that it is heavily smudged and (wet?) even in some places, that's because I tried to make it seem as though it was pulled from an archive, whether from Lily's belongings or even Hogwarts. Let me know if you can't read anything specific and I'll tell you what it says. It's not perfect but I'm very proud of it!

[newnitz]

I don't really see people talking about how cultural Christianity is applied to Jews.

In Christianity, Jews are the people who rejected and betrayed Jesus and are punished with statelessness and destitution, whose only redemption is accepting the Messiah and the Son of God. This is the basis of several antisemitic tropes, most prominently deception, religious supercessionism and the Wandering Jew.

In cultural Christianity, these tropes are considered tenants of Judaism rather than Christianity, as Judaism is considered Christianity without Jesus.

Christians see themselves as tortured saints, persecuted for spreading the truth of Jesus and God across the globe. Missionaries who go to non-Christian lands to try and get the people to convert by fearmongering with damnation to Hell see themselves as victims when they're rebuffed and asked to stop.

Cultural Christian non-Christians are usually atheists and adherents of folk religion revivalist movements who have suffered religious abuse, as many sects of Christianity normalize emotional abuse by instilling inherent guilt in the Original Sin and even physical abuse in "Spare the rod; spoil the child". These cultural Christians see the millennia of antisemitism and roll their eyes, to them we're just another sect of delusional religious people with a persecution complex.

To become a Christian all you need to do is accept the Father Son and Holy Spirit, to affirm your beliefs and confess your sins. To become a Jew you are either born a Jew, or you learn the Jewish culture and religion for months on end and must live half a year under the strictest restrictions of the Jewish lifestyle to show commitment. That is the difference between a universal religion and an ethnoreligion.

In a Culturally Christian world there is no room for ethnoreligions, and they do not exist. All religions are about your faith and which God(s) you believe in. So in a Cultural Christian's eyes, a country of Jews is a country that holds one faith supreme above all others and conditions rights with conversion, as that's how Christian countries have historically been.

Christianity's common ground with Jews comes from the Roman Empire appropriating the religion from the Cult of Jesus, and making it more appealing to the masses by introducing Greco-Roman and Germanic folk religion aspects into it. Xmas is Yule but with Jesus, Easter is a fertility holiday but with Jesus and so on. In the eyes of the Cultural Christian, Christianity and Judaism are two once-antagonistic sects of the same religion, no different than Catholics and Protestants.

Cultural Christianity erases and appropriates Judaism and is as inherently hateful of Jews as religious Christianity.

Now, when it comes to the elephant in the room: Islam.

Islam, like Christianity, is a universal religion. You must believe in Allah and accept the prophets, which include both Jesus and Muhammad. It is no more inherently violent than Christianity, though it's no less. In the Christian's eyes, Islam is the competitor, the enemy. The Muslims conquered Christian lands and converted them, and they've fought holy wars against one another throughout the Middle Ages.

To become a Muslim the Cultural Christian doesn't need to unlearn any of the core tenets of their culture. They can simply apply it to Islam.

Which is why many Cultural Christians, damaged by Christianity, are sympathetic to Islam. And since Muslims and Jews are no longer on good terms, they use this sympathy to give themselves a free pass to be antisemitic. Whether Muslims check their converts for bigotry, allow it or are powerless to stop them, that's another issue.

Jews are not diet Christians. We have less in common with you than you have with Muslims. Unlearn Christian cultural appropriation.

And no, I don't care that it's "offensive" to associate you with Christianity due to the religious abuse you endured. You still see the world through a Christian lens.

[lupine-trees]

hallowed

[ boys being self-sacrificial & savior-coded, doing penance, etc. what can i say, the religious themes got to me. for the @drarrymicrofic october prompt: halo ]

word count: ~452 | rating: t | cw: reference to canon-typical neglect, implied violence, blood

_ _ _

Harry finds himself remembering less and less of the Dursleys these days.

(Not that there was much to begin with.

Cupboard, spiders, pots, pans, the sharp clap of a palm, dust raining down from stomping on the stairs, hiding hastily in thorny shrubbery, bread crusts, smashed fingers, the distant sound of laugh tracks distorted from the television.

Less and less.)

Church lingers— Easter, especially. Not that Harry was particularly into, well, all of that, but still. He got to go. Got to wear a jumper that almost fit, and shiny shoes, even though they pinched his toes. Got to eat— ham and potatoes and green beans and carrot cake, and made himself eat slowly, careful.

The stained glass remains, in his mind.

Green like bottles, soft reds like wild roses, the yellow of a halogen bulb. Saltwater blue. Cream, and ochre, and a color like clay. Light would cast through, leaving color streaked on the carpets, the pews.

In the windows, the people looked sad. The angels, too. All upturned eyes and prayer-clasped hands.

The haloes caught his eye. Golden and round, a point of definition in a shifting kaleidoscope. Steady.

Anyway, it’s like that. The cold & the crack of apparition & the sound of shiny shoes on cobbles.

“Christ,” Draco hisses, dropping to his knees beside him in a blur of Healer green.

Harry wants to smile, wants to say, You should see the other guy, but his words feel far away and his throat feels thick, and a sad sort of gurgle comes out in place of any semblance of a sentence.

“Shut up,” Draco snarls, shirt sleeves torn up to his elbows, hands pressed to, oh, yes, the gaping hole in Harry’s middle. He can feel the web of spells curling out from Draco’s fingertips, knitting over his stomach, stringing him back together.

And of course there’s the light.

There’s a hole in the roof behind Draco’s head, and daylight is making every effort to pour through it, slicing through the heavy dust. It’s illuminating.

It’s ridiculous, really, that his hair can look like that. Halo, Harry thinks, and “Light,” he burbles, his fingers (blood-stained) sliding up through strands of silver-blond.

“Don’t,” Draco mutters, eyes frantic, sweat at his furrowed brow, “go towards any fucking light, so help me, Merlin.”

And Harry laughs then, a rasping sound, fingers tangled in his hair, and Draco, flushed, pushes down harshly on his abdomen, and then Harry’s coughing, and Draco, “Sorry, I’m sorry,” easing, gentling.

“S’okay,” Harry manages around the bubble in his throat. His eyes are heavy, but Draco’s hair is soft, so soft, and what a shame to miss it. He’ll stay awake a little longer.

A little longer.

[blossom-hwa]

a very fine line, indeed [2] | c.bg

pairing: Beomgyu x fem!reader genre:  fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, regency era!au, nobility!au warnings: cursing, period typical misogyny word count: 9.3k notes:  — updates every M/W/F at 8pm EST until the series finishes — inspiration taken from an amalgamation of different bridgerton stories - let me know what easter eggs you find! — story takes place in the same universe as my duke!yeonjun and earl!taehyun fics - check out the link to the series below for some more easter eggs :) In a society where it only takes a year for a young woman in search of a husband to be considered out of season, it is no wonder that by your third year out, you are desperate to marry. Known as one of the beauties of the ton, such a task should not be difficult for you—but with an absent father, no dowry, and a reputation centered around your inability to keep your mouth shut around one certain Beomgyu Choi, your prospects are more limited than you’d like. While you cannot recover your family or your wealth, however, the one thing you can try to control is your reputation. So when the third season rolls around, you resolve to keep your distance from Beomgyu Choi, your childhood enemy, and the man you hate most in the world. Enter Beomgyu Choi, second son of the Kensington Viscountcy, one of the most eligible bachelors in the ton. His older brother, cousin, and good friend have all recently married, leaving the mamas to salivate at his doorstep for the chance of marrying one of their daughters to him. When Beomgyu walks in on a particularly traumatizing moment between you and one of the most unsavory men in the ton and learns of your desperation to marry, despite your history of enmity, he proposes you a devious deal—to pretend to court you. It seems like a winning situation for both of you—more gentlemen will take notice of you, enhancing your prospects, and he will have the ton’s mamas off his back—and so, despite your misgivings, you agree. With you hell bent on marriage and Beomgyu completely indifferent to the concept, even independent of your hatred for each other, it seems unlikely that any sort of true affection will bloom. But as you begrudgingly put aside your differences to spend more and more time in one another’s company, and as you grow to know each other beyond your ill-conceived preconceptions from childhood, you begin to realize that perhaps you two have more in common than you had once thought. And as your faked acquaintanceship becomes more truth than fiction, a friendship beginning to bloom most unexpectedly— Perhaps you no longer need to convince the ton of the veracity of your courtship, because anyone with eyes can see that it is true.  Part 1 >> Part 2 >> Part 3

Series Masterlist | TXT Masterlist

Beomgyu might have to go down in history as one of the great geniuses of the century, because it is no exaggeration to say that his plan is working splendidly. This isn’t to say there haven’t been a few hiccups—you’ve had to get used to telling your cover story to different people, not to mention having to learn to tolerate one other’s presences for hours at a time, which was no small feat for either of you. For the first few days there were more people than ever trying to get your and his attention because apparently the sight of you two together was just too bizarre to comprehend. Whistledown herself expressed her astonishment for two entire paragraphs in her gossip column, which did give him a good laugh. Overall, though, especially now that those first hellish days are over, Beomgyu feels that the results now far outweigh the initial complications. 

And results there are, even after just a week of pretending to court you. Mostly for him—at the last ball, after the news of this new relationship had spread, only perhaps a third of the mamas from before kept trying to hog his attention. With some luck, in a couple of weeks, even those will disappear too. 

Though there have been results for you too. At that very same ball, after dancing with you not once but twice (following the proper protocol of ninety minutes between each dance, of course), Beomgyu could point out no less than three of his gentleman peers eyeing you in a different light. And for all of your skepticism, when he pointed it out, you had to admit he was right.

Ha. When this is over, Beomgyu will just have to rub this success in your face every time you meet, just to see your teeth grind in that amusing way of yours.

The two of you are promenading in the park today. It is not the sunniest of afternoons, with several grey clouds drifting slowly across the sky, but there is a nice breeze in the air and Beomgyu likes the way it feels against his skin, cool and refreshing compared to the crowded ballrooms. This is nicer than he thought it would be, really. Not just the weather, but you on his arm as well. When you decide to be civil, you can be a strangely pleasant presence.

He would die before admitting this, of course.

On Beomgyu’s arm, you’re also looking at the sky. “This is strange,” you say. 

He blinks. “Strange how?”

“It’s a nice day and I’m promenading in the park with a gentleman and that gentleman is you,” you state plainly. “I never really thought this would happen.”

Beomgyu frowns. “You’ve never gone promenading before?”

“With my family, many times. With suitors, perhaps once or twice. Maybe three times.” You shrug. “My family doesn’t have much money, Mr. Choi. I know it can be difficult to look past my radiant exterior, but once they remember my background and lack of dowry, it is a bit harder to forget.”

Radiant exterior. Beomgyu wants to roll his eyes. Sure, you are beautiful and it’s not something anyone would deny, but you could stand to maintain a humbler image, even if it isn’t quite truthful. “Men are very easily blinded by pretty things, though,” he says, snickering when you roll your own eyes. “I really do find it hard to believe that you have not had a proposal from anyone better than Mr. Thompson.”

“Oh, so you think that I’m pretty?”

Beomgyu gives you the stink eye in response to your mocking grin. “Your beauty is well known throughout the ton, Miss L/N,” he deadpans. “I would be in extremely poor taste if I did not acknowledge it.”

“That is true,” you say, adopting a supercilious expression that Beomgyu almost wants to laugh at. “But...well, I have had one other proposal. It was much less offensive than Mr. Thompson’s. I would rather go insane than marry him,” you add, and this time Beomgyu does give in to the urge to laugh. “Don’t spread the word, for he is now happily married and I do not wish to embarrass him but…Lord Kierston.” You sigh and your gaze turns a little regretful. “Maybe I should have said yes.”

Beomgyu stares. “…The man is at least twice your age. And his breath smells rotten.”

“That is true.” A flicker of a smile shows on your lips, just like the night of that first ball, but before Beomgyu can really catch it, it disappears immediately. “But for all his rotten breath, at least he wouldn’t assault me.”

Beomgyu instantly feels like a jackass. “I apologize. That was insensitive of me.”

“Don’t apologize.” You look at him with half a smile on your face. “If I were in your place I probably would have said the same thing, and then had the exact same reaction.” 

The two of you walk in silence for a few moments. “Maybe that’s why we have never gotten along,” Beomgyu finally muses aloud. 

You look at him, an eyebrow raised. “Why?”

“We’re too much alike,” he replies, smirking. “And because we are the type to butt heads at the slightest invitation, we butt heads with each other far too often.”

“Never compare me to you again.” You shudder. “But I can concede that there might be some truth to your statement.”

“Don’t make that face, you should be honored to be compared to me.” Beomgyu snickers as you roll your eyes again. “But no, in all seriousness, you might not want to make that face. There is a group of men observing you beyond those trees.”

Beomgyu marvels at how quickly you rearrange your features into a pleasant mask, placid and pretty and bland, nothing like the scowls he usually finds himself on the receiving end of. If he didn’t know you he’d say you were the picture of a perfect debutante. You look up at him with a lovely little smile, batting your eyelids just so as your fan flutters gently in your hand, and for just a moment Beomgyu finds himself at a loss for words. 

“What say you?” you whisper, oblivious to his current predicament. “Do I look like I’m actually enjoying your presence?”

He coughs. “Unfortunately, yes,” he says, because he can currently form only two coherent words without needing to choke. He clears his throat slightly. “Christ, where did you learn to playact so well?”

You look around with that same little genuine-but-not smile. It is so unsettling to see that on your face. “Well, when the people around you don’t care much for your wit or sarcasm in favor of your beauty, you find ways to lean into it.” You turn back to him with a meaningful expression. “Only I’m not quite so adept at holding up the façade when it comes to things I dislike.”

Beomgyu squints, affronted. “Did you just refer to me as a thing?”

“Apologies, my lord. Even I couldn’t be so demeaning.” You flash him a brighter, far more sarcastic smile that looks so much more genuine than before, and that he finds much easier to stomach. “Allow me to correct myself. I’m not quite so adept at holding up facades when it comes to things and people I dislike.”

“Well, you’re doing quite an admirable job now,” Beomgyu mutters, casting a wary glance at the group of men. “They seem quite interested in you.” He peers at you, narrowing his eyes just a touch too much to be sincere. “Where did you learn to bat your eyes like that? You almost look normal.”

You glare at him for a split second before returning to your previous serene expression. “It’s a skill all ladies eventually acquire,” you snip back. “You men are very simple. Very weak to perceived beauty.” As if to accentuate your point, you flutter your fan ever so gracefully to coquettishly hide your face. 

Beomgyu raises an amused eyebrow. “Are we truly so simple as that?”

“Of course you are. You said so yourself, earlier.” You snort, then cast a glance over the small group naturally, so naturally. “Lord Fife, is it not?” you say out of the corner of your mouth, giving them a little wave. To Beomgyu’s disgust, one of them actually looks a little starstruck. “And his usual group of friends.”

“I believe so.” He looks away from the scene. They are not the best group of people in the ton, but a far sight better than the likes of Mr. Thompson. “One of them looks quite entranced by you.”

A small snort puffs out of your nose. Against his will, Beomgyu almost finds it endearing. “He might be starstruck, but his mother gave me the cut direct once when she found out I had no dowry.” You roll your eyes, but your smile has dimmed. “I won’t say it is hopeless, but his mother isn’t the type to allow her son to marry someone like me. At least not without a fight.”

“Then he should grow a spine and stand up to her, if he really wanted you,” Beomgyu mutters. You look at him sharply, eyes narrowed, but before he can try to decipher your expression his eye catches on a familiar couple in the distance and he blanches. “Oh, God.”

You follow his gaze and react equally as badly. “Why did you not tell me they’d be here?” you hiss. 

“Does it look like I knew they would?” he hisses back. 

Fast approaching the two of you are Soobin and his wife. Unfortunately for Beomgyu, Soobin is his damn brother and his wife is, if he remembers correctly, one of your good friends. Soobin decided to stay in the country for a couple weeks longer than Beomgyu did so he hasn’t been around to ask questions, but apparently that respite is gone now too. “Just remember the cover story,” he mutters. 

“You remember the cover story,” you snipe back. “I know it just fine.”

He wants to retort but Soobin is waving, which means Beomgyu has to acknowledge his brother’s presence. He pastes a smile onto his face, making it as phony as possible. “Good afternoon,” he says with false cheerfulness, shooting his brother a look. “Soobin, I didn’t know you would be back today.”

“We only returned a few hours ago,” Soobin replies, smiling brightly at Beomgyu’s nonplussed expression. “My wife and I wanted some fresh air after so long spent in the carriage, so we came out for a walk. And what good fortune—” his gaze slides to you somewhat warily— “to see the two of you here.”

“It is lovely to see you,” you say prettily, bobbing a little curtsy. “Especially you, Lady Choi.” The two of you smile brightly at each other, and Beomgyu is once again privy to a side of you that has never appeared before him. “How was the country?”

“Most refreshing, though I suppose it is good to be back in town,” Lady Choi answers for the two of them. Beomgyu fakes a gag at Soobin’s doe-eyed expression of bliss when he turns to his wife, which earns him a pinch from you. “Might I ask…” Her eyes turn curious as she gestures to the two of you. “When did this happen? Certainly we have not missed so much in just a few weeks.”

“You did miss quite a bit, unfortunately,” you reply. Your face betrays no fear but Beomgyu feels your grip tighten on his arm. With his own heart beating a little faster than usual, he honestly welcomes it. “Quite a few things happen in the span of weeks.”

Lady Choi looks at you, nonplussed. “With all due respect to you both, this—” she waves a hand at the two of you again—“is not something that could have happened in just a week or two.”

If only you knew. 

Judging by the tightness of your arm in his, your thoughts are the same, but when you look up at him with a pleasant smile, Beomgyu is certain he would never be able to tell by looking at your face alone. “Well, you are correct. This didn’t happen overnight.” You laugh so naturally, with just the right hint of shyness and embarrassment that one would expect from your enemies to courtship situation. “Last summer, we agreed that our…ongoing feud was too childish to continue. So we decided to finally put it behind us.”

“Yes,” Beomgyu jumps in. As well as you are handling the situation, he can’t exactly leave you to do everything alone. “We began exchanging letters shortly after.” Thank God he’d gotten into the habit of writing regular correspondence with Kai and Taehyun over the past year, or else Soobin would smell a rat immediately. “And when the season came…well, we decided to see how a courtship would work between the two of us.”

“I see,” Soobin says slowly, looking between the two of you. “And how exactly is it working?”

You shrug with the perfect amount of levity. Again, Beomgyu is in unfortunate awe at how well you act. Maybe it is a good thing you can’t hold yourself back when it comes to dislike or aggravation—otherwise, you would be unsettlingly perfect. “Well enough.”

“Well, it is good to see my good friend and brother in law finally getting along.” Lady Choi claps her hands together, smile bright, hopefully oblivious to Beomgyu privately wanting to gag. “We shall have to have the two of you over sometime, shouldn’t we, Soobin?”

“Of course we should,” Soobin agrees with a little too much enthusiasm. Beomgyu’s heart spasms unsteadily as his brother smiles at him cryptically. “I suppose our teasing last season about you finding your lady love in your own sworn enemy did have some level of truth to it?”

You look at him curiously, something mischievously dangerous glinting in your eyes. Beomgyu does not look back at you. “I suppose it did,” he replies through mildly gritted teeth. 

“Well, we will not keep you any longer,” Lady Choi says with a smile that leaves Beomgyu—and you, if your expression is anything to go by—a little warier than before. “Soobin, let’s leave the young couple to their promenade. Us married folks can’t relate to them, nowadays.” Ignoring your sputters of “you are hardly three years older than me!”, she tucks her arm merrily into Soobin’s and leads him away, though Soobin sends Beomgyu one last meaningful glance before he allows himself to be dragged off. 

You and Beomgyu travel on sedately for a few steps before Beomgyu casts a glance backward and says, “We’re safe.”

Immediately you let out a massive sigh, and your grip on his arm loosens significantly. Christ, he hadn’t realized you were holding onto him so tightly until you let go. “That was not in my hand of cards for today,” you mutter. “Though perhaps it is better we got that out of the way sooner rather than later.” You look at him. “Do you think they believed us?”

“If they don’t, it will have not been any fault of yours,” he answers frankly. He’s loath to admit it, but it’s true. “You acted very well.”

Your mouth opens in surprise. “Well, thank you,” you reply slowly, like you’re not quite sure what to make of his words. Beomgyu privately feels the same way, but he also feels the need to give credit where credit is due, so he shoves the strangeness of the feeling away to process later. Maybe never. “I could say the same for you.”

“Thank you,” he says, still feeling slightly off-kilter for whatever reason. It’s probably just the conversation with Soobin. Then he groans. “Did she say they’d invite us to dinner?”

You sigh. “Unfortunately, I think she did.” You mutter something under your breath in addition that Beomgyu doesn’t really hear. He catches something that sounds like evil friends, though, and decides that he probably agrees with your sentiment. “Anyway, what did Lord Choi say about last season? Something about teasing you about your worst enemy?” You narrow your eyes, evil amusement glinting in your eyes. “I am assuming he spoke of me.”

“Oh, that.” Beomgyu silently curses his brother for being the annoyance that he is. “If you must know, my friends decided to take our disagreements out of context and thought that because I had never paid more attention to a woman in my life, I must actually be in love with you, otherwise I’d never have held on to this grudge for as long as I have.”

For a moment, you remain silent. Then you burst into hysterical laughter. 

Beomgyu watches, bemused, as you hide behind your fan, still trembling with giggles as he continues to lead you forward. “I didn’t think it was that funny,” he mutters when you eventually start to calm down.

“Oh, but it is hilarious.” You wipe a tear from your eye, the last few rounds of laughter still shaking your chest. “You, being in love with me because we disagree so often? Tell me, are your friends quite all right in the head? Perhaps I should ask Lady Choi to get her husband checked.” 

“Well, I would agree with you on that front.” Beomgyu gives in to your amusement and cracks a smile. “But in their defense, I am almost certain they were joking.”

“Almost certain.” You snort, looking up at him with a sardonic half-smile that looks so much more natural than the pretty, placid expression you had on earlier. “Well, good thing their delusion isn’t true, because that would be simply absurd.”

Despite himself, Beomgyu returns your conspiratorial smile. How ironic it is that he feels much closer to you in this moment, sharing this secret and laughing at his friends, than any other time before. “You’re right,” he agrees, snickering. “It would be absolutely absurd.”

. . . . .

Dry the linens, scrub pots, clean the kitchen… You hurry down the corridors of your home, listing your tasks over and over so you won’t forget. Last time you missed something, your stepmother slapped you hard across the face. She’s been doing that more often lately—frustrated at your lack of marriage prospects, you think, even though you’d think that having to heal from her bruising you black and blue would only hurt your chances even more. It’s a small miracle that the scratch mark from her ring healed enough for you to hide before the next ball you were set to attend. 

“Here, let me help with that, Miss L/N.” A familiar voice sounds by your ear, and then your load lightens as a pair of hands takes half the linens out of your tub. “Drying, right?”

You shoot Soyoung a very grateful smile. “Yes. And how many times have I told you to call me by my name?” you scold. “It’s awfully stuffy to hear you call me that—we can be casual together.”

“Even though your stepmother may not treat you like it, you are still a lady of the house,” Soyoung retorts. The two of you exit the house into the fresh air of the garden. “I will not disrespect you or myself by behaving otherwise.”

“Come now, Soyoung,” you beseech as the two of you pull one of the linens out of the tubs. Each holding one end, you begin twisting to get as much of the water out as possible. “You must admit that it’s a bit awkward for me to call you by your name when you won’t do the same for me.” Which is true, and which is why you’ve brought the topic up time and time again even though Soyoung—and the other servants’—response is always the same. 

You’ve managed to squeeze most of the water out of the sheet by now, so you toss it over one of the drying lines hanging outside. Soyoung helps you pull it flat on both sides until it hangs properly, then looks at you with more solemnity than you’ve ever seen on her face. “My lady, I and the staff respect you,” she says seriously. “Not because we are required to, like with your stepmother, but because you have always been good and kind to us even before she started ordering you around like one of us. Thus, I must show you the respect we would give the lady of the house.” She huffs. “You shouldn’t even have to do any of this, yet you handle everything without complaint on top of all your own embroidery and mending—”

You clap a hand over her mouth. Then you wince, because your hands are still wet. “Shh,” you hiss, searching the garden. No sign of your stepmother, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t near. “Not too loudly.”

Soyoung gulps when you release her. “Of course. I apologize.”

“It’s all right.” You smile. “And I must apologize for pushing you so hard on the matter of my name. If you truly feel this way, I shall not try to move you any further.”

She smiles back, and the two of you begin on another one of the sheets. “Thank you, my lady.”

Water drips on the grass, dotting the hem of your dress and seeping into the cracks on your hands. You keep a smile on your face as Soyoung chatters on about some gossip she heard from other servants in town, but inside you can’t help but feel a little more alone. It is true you have friends, both in the noble sphere and among your fellow servants, but with your in-between status as half a lady, half a servant, you can’t help but wonder where you stand. Your noble friends do not know of your home situation. Your servant friends do, but while they laugh and joke around you more easily than most, there is still a status difference.

You sigh. If it wouldn’t bring the worst of your family’s financial troubles to light, you might tell Lady Choi. But being worked as a servant would bring even worse ridicule to yourself than your lack of a dowry—not to mention there's not a single man in the ton who would deign to marry a servant, even half a servant like you. If you want to leave this house, you need to marry, so no one can know your situation...but it doesn’t mean you don’t feel alone. 

“Oh!” Soyoung’s exclamation jolts you out of your brief wallow in self-pity. “I heard something about you, my lady.” Suddenly her face is in front of yours, her dark eyes wide with curiosity and mischief. “Is it true that Mr. Choi is courting you?”

“What—” You choke on air and start coughing.

“My lady?” Soyoung pats your back, but she’s far too gentle for it to actually do anything. “Are you all right?”

“Quite,” you manage, holding out a hand. You wheeze out a few more coughs before you can finally look at her. “What did you ask me, again?”

She looks at you with wide, eager eyes. “Is it true that Mr. Choi is courting you?”

Good God. Well, you should have expected it. If the nobles are talking about it, the servants most definitely are. They hear far more than anyone ever expects—many times you’ve learned things about society that you never wanted to know from Soyoung and the others. You sigh. “It’s not quite true,” you hedge. Not the truth, but not a lie either. “We patched our relationship, somewhat. And so we decided to see what would come of a courtship. Do not misunderstand things,” you warn when Soyoung’s smile grows too bright. “I don’t know what will come of it. Neither of us does.”

Soyoung’s shoulders slump. “Oh. I see.” She looks up at you. “Forgive me, my lady. I was only…I was so happy when I heard he might have an interest in you. I know you have had your disagreements in the past, but whenever I have seen him he has always been a kind man. I thought the two of you could be quite happy together.”

Damn. Now you feel like you’ve kicked a puppy. Even though Soyoung’s interpretation of the situation is almost laughable—how could you and Mr. Choi be happy together? Even now you still have to keep yourself from hissing obscenities at him every time you see him—but she’s still your friend and only wants your happiness. “I mean, we don’t know how things will proceed,” you say, hanging up the second sheet. “Anything could happen.“ A gust of wind blows the still damp cloth onto your face. “Ugh—”

“Miss L/N!”

You flail around for a moment before you manage to tug the wet sheet off your face. “Huh? Brighton?”

Your family butler always looks put together, but for the first time ever, you detect a hint of panic in his eyes. “My lady,” he says. “Mr. Choi has come to call on you.”

. . .

You never thought you could get cleaned and dressed so quickly. 

In all honesty, you’re not sure what happened over the past twenty minutes. It was a whirlwind of activity—Soyoung nearly choked, Brighton said something about telling Mr. Choi you were out, and then Soyoung was dragging you back into the house via the kitchen all the while hissing something like you said he wasn’t really courting you! Then somehow you were smuggled to your room and Soyoung had pulled out a dress and Sabine popped out of nowhere to pick out your accessories and then you were being dragged out of the house again through the servants’ quarters to make it look like you just arrived back from town—

And now you are in your own drawing room, still processing the events of the past half hour with Mr. Choi standing in front of you, flowers in hand. 

“Miss L/N,” he says, bowing slightly as he extends the flowers to you. “A pleasure to see you today.”

You take the bouquet with numb fingers. “And a pleasure to see you as well.” Thankfully, the practiced words roll off your tongue easily even in your frazzled state. “Thank you for the flowers. I hope I didn’t leave you waiting too long.”

“Not long at all,” he replies smoothly. “I understand you were in town?”

“Oh, yes. I was trying to find some…” You rack your mind for something to say that might be believable, painfully aware of the growing silence. “Gloves,” you finally blurt out, looking down at the thin cloth covering your hands. You just mended them yesterday, and thank God for that. “Please, do sit down,” you say, wincing internally at Mr. Choi’s lingering glance on your hands, and the slightly raised eyebrow he shows you as he sits on the couch. “I’m not quite sure where my stepmother is, but Brighton should serve as an adequate chaperone until—”

“Y/N.” Your stepmother’s voice rings sharply from the corridor and in your surprise, you flinch. Mr. Choi looks at you sharply, a strange expression on his face—concern? Strange indeed, coming from him—but you’ve already schooled your features into what you hope is a bland, pleasant façade. Her footsteps echo ominously on the floor as her voice grows louder. “Why do I hear you in the drawing room? I thought I told you to—”

“My lady.” Brighton cuts in, saving you from a near panic attack. “A Mr. Choi has come to call.”

“A caller?” Her voice suddenly switches from its previous cold tones to the much silkier, smoother voice she uses in society. You look down to see your hands clutching your gown far too tightly and force yourself to release them. The footsteps get faster. “For my Y/N?”

My Y/N. You barely manage not to gag. Though apparently you don’t quite hide it well enough, because Mr. Choi looks at you even more closely. “Miss L/N,” he murmurs, and you can see that there is real concern in his eyes. “Are you all right?”

Fortunately—or unfortunately, really—you’re saved from having to give him a coherent response when your mother sweeps into the room. You’ve always marveled at how she is able to keep her snooty, evil countenance at bay whenever she is in the presence of company. You’re no blood relation of hers, but the sickening thought occurs to you that you may have learned a thing or two about switching faces from her. “Mr. Choi,” she says warmly, like she didn’t yell at you for hours earlier this morning about not having the drawing room dusted quickly enough. “I apologize for not being here to welcome you in.”

The two of you stand. “Do not worry at all, my lady.” Mr. Choi bows slightly, the smile returned to his face. “Your daughter did the job admirably.”

“Of course she did.” She spares you the briefest of glances—good, because you wouldn’t be able to continue smiling if she decided to look right at you—and gestures for you to sit down again. “Please, do not stand on my account. I will have someone bring in biscuits. Y/N, how could you have forgotten to give our guest some refreshment?” And with that parting jab, she whisks out of the room, leaving you feeling murderous and somewhat lightheaded all at once. 

Mr. Choi looks after her a moment, then turns to you. “Your stepmother,” he says, looking vaguely bemused. He clearly doesn’t know what to say. If you weren’t still struggling to breathe normally, you’d laugh at him. 

Unfortunately, your conversational skills seem to have been swept away by your stepmother’s arrival, so all you can do is echo his words. “Yes,” you say. “My stepmother.”

You lapse into awkward silence that you don’t know how to break. Even yelling would be better than this dead quiet, but you don’t know how to break it. Eventually Beomgyu clears his throat. “Miss L/N, are you sure this is a good time?” he asks quietly. “I can call another day if it would suit you better.”

You glance at the clock. It has hardly been five minutes since you entered the room, and for all you dislike him, you feel bad turning him away this early, especially after he waited for so long. Also, your stepmother might yell at you for chasing away yet another suitor who might take you off her hands. But keeping him longer means less time that you have for finishing your chores, not to mention that you’re starting to get a headache…

Well, if your stepmother is displeased with you, she’ll end up giving you more chores and maybe a slap to boot. You can stomach Mr. Choi for a short while longer. Besides, it will at least keep up your pretense of courtship. Aware of all the servants’ eyes in the room, and aware that they truly believe you and Mr. Choi to be courting, you manage to paste a small smile on your lips. “No, don’t leave so soon.” You force the smile a little wider. “My stepmother has already gone to find you some refreshment—you must not leave without having tried them first.” You lean closer, lowering your voice as though to tell him a secret. “Our cook’s butter biscuits are the best.” 

Mr. Choi scrutinizes you for a long moment, during which you try your best to decipher what his expression means to no avail. “Very well,” he says finally with a soft smile to mirror your own and even though you know he dislikes you, in this moment, he seems very genuine. For some idiotic reason this threatens to bring tears to your eyes but you manage to push them back. “For the butter biscuits, I will stay.”

You manage to make some small talk until there’s a commotion in the hall. Your stepmother appears in the doorway, looking harried and vaguely annoyed, and you see the reason when your little sister blinks her mischievous eyes behind her mother. “Delia, no,” she hisses, as a servant maneuvers a tray of biscuits around the two of them. “It is not proper!”

“But I want to see Y/N and her suitor!” Delia cries. Despite the situation, you smile. “You said I could be there when I was older, it’s not fair—”

“Please don’t have her leave on my account,” Mr. Choi interrupts. You look at him in surprise, but he’s already smiling warmly at your younger sister. “Delia, is it?” he asks, holding out his hands. 

For all her previous bravado, Delia shuffles forward somewhat shyly, shrinking away slightly when Mr. Choi takes her little hands. “Hello,” she mumbles. 

You pat her head gently. “Mr. Choi, please meet my younger sister, Delia.” You smile at her. “Introduce yourself, Delia.”

Not for the first time, you have to hide how adorable you find your little sister as she looks up at Mr. Choi with her big, soft eyes. “My name is Delia,” she whispers. 

“A pleasure to meet you. That is a lovely name,” Mr. Choi says, and he sounds perfectly sincere. For a moment you hold as still as you can just to take in the picture of his soft smile directed right at your sister, his large hands holding her small ones, her wide eyes blinking trustingly into his. It’s a strange portrait, but a surprisingly lovely one. “How old are you, Delia?”

“Ten,” she whispers. 

“Almost eleven,” you add. “Her birthday will be in a few months.”

“A very good age to be.” Mr. Choi nods approvingly. 

Delia blinks, her face solemn. “Are you going to marry my sister?” she asks. 

You choke. So does Mr. Choi. Someone hands the two of you some water and your stepmother steps in, her lips pinched in disapproval as she makes apologies and tries to take Delia away, but Mr. Choi waves her off. “Well, nothing is set in stone yet,” he says conversationally, though you still detect some redness in his cheeks. “But if all goes well, it is possible.”

Your sister nods solemnly. “I see.”

“I apologize, Mr. Choi, but this really isn’t proper.” Your stepmother takes Delia by the hand and tugs her away. “Delia, come back to the nursery. You can play with your brother there.”

You have to stifle a laugh when Delia starts complaining that Henry is annoying, that he’s boring and only ever wants to play with his toy soldiers, and when you look to Mr. Choi, he seems to be having trouble suppressing his smile, too. “She’s adorable,” he says when they’ve left the room. 

“Very much so,” you agree. One of the few bright spots about your stepmother marrying your father. “You’re very good with children.”

“It depends on the child,” he says, and you almost snort. He gives you a half smile that doesn’t even look forced. “I jest. They are very interesting creatures, and see the world so differently from us jaded elders. They are very adorable, and I like them very much.”

This time, you can’t hold back your laugh. It’s a strange feeling, holding polite, natural conversation with Mr. Choi without it devolving into some argument, but you can’t say you don’t find it pleasant. You know that if he provoked you at this moment, you’d still rise to the bait in a second, but right now you can’t help but let your feelings toward him soften ever so slightly. “I do agree with you,” you say, smiling. 

He looks at the clock, then, and turns back to you, looking vaguely put out. “I apologize, but I must go now,” he says, standing up. You follow suit. “I have an appointment with my family’s solicitor. But it was very good to see you, Miss L/N, and to meet your family.” He glances at the biscuits and smiles. “The butter biscuits were wonderful as well.”

You make your goodbyes, and then your stepmother comes in just in time to catch Mr. Choi before he’s fully out the door so she fusses over him some more. When he leaves, you try to sneak out of the room before she can start questioning you, but to no avail. “Y/N.”

You sigh, then turn around. “Yes?”

“Mr. Choi?” she states. Her eyes are narrow, flinty, sharp. “I was under the impression you disliked him.”

You hold yourself as still as possible. “Things change, Stepmother.”

For a long moment, you hold her gaze, saying nothing. She finally breaks the silence with a sharp tch. “Well, as long as he takes you off my hands, I don’t care what your relations with him are,” she says. “Take care not to sour them.” She sneers at you. “Now get back to your chores. You should be finished before our supper with the Haynesworths.”

Supper with the Haynesworths. As if the day could get any worse. You grit your teeth and nod, giving her a brief curtsy. If murder were legal… “Of course, Stepmother.”

. . . . .

If murder were legal, Beomgyu isn’t certain his brother would still be the heir. In his defense, Soobin would deserve it—no one so evil as to force his poor younger brother to attend the annual Smythe-Smith musicale with him is suited for the family title. 

Unfortunately, murder isn’t legal, and honestly, Soobin’s own attendance at the dreaded musicale might be punishment enough for his crimes against Beomgyu. Why people still show up, Beomgyu has no idea—he suspects it has something to do with politeness—but one has to wonder how the Smythe-Smith family has gone generations without hearing a single comment about how truly little talent their daughters have. If the Smythe-Smiths weren’t so influential and kind, surely someone would have said something already. 

They are just—terrible. Beomgyu himself is no musician but he can at least carry a tune. The Smythe-Smith girls don’t seem to even know what a tune is. According to Taehyun, who by unfortunate chance happened to be in town last year when the musicale took place, no one should be able to play a string instrument like that, all screechy and squeaky and off-tune. And yet, apparently, the tradition of Smythe-Smith daughters performing an annual quartet has continued for several generations. 

They actually think that they are good. 

All of which is to say that because Yeonjun has oh-so-regretfully cited baby related concerns as his reason not to attend this year, Soobin is forcing Beomgyu to go. And when Beomgyu pointed out that Taehyun was also attending, Taehyun immediately stated that because Kai wasn’t going to be there, Beomgyu would have to take his place. To share in the misery, or something like that. 

(Beomgyu feels very bad for Taehyun’s wife. She’s never been to one of the musicales before and keeps asking how bad it really could be. Unfortunately for her ears, she is a world-renowned pianist, and Beomgyu isn’t certain she will come out of the musicale alive.)

Which is why on this fine evening, Beomgyu finds himself being dragged kicking and screaming to the Smythe-Smith’s grand London home. Soobin is extremely adamant in his philosophy of “if I have to suffer, so do you,” and his wife just likes to see the world burn—Beomgyu’s world, specifically. “I’m going to get you both back for this,” he mutters under his breath as they join the crowd thronging into the Smythe-Smith’s home. 

“Did you say something, Beomgyu?” his sister in law asks sweetly, glancing back at him with a sickly smile. 

Beomgyu returns the smile with equal sincerity. “Nothing at all, sister.”

They enter the reception room, where they find Taehyun and his wife standing morosely in a corner. “—can’t be that bad,” Beomgyu hears as they approach. “Not if they’ve been holding performances for generations.”

“Oh, they are that bad. Possibly worse,” Soobin mutters. 

Lady Kang still looks unconvinced. Bless her musician heart.

“The musicale hasn’t started yet,” Beomgyu says hopefully. “There is still time to fake a horrific headache or the plague and make it back home safely.”

“And exactly how would the five of us manage to get away with that?” Taehyun says, raising an eyebrow. He tosses back the rest of his drink like his life depends on it, which it very well might. “No,” he declares with grim certainty. “If one of us has to be here, all of us have to be.”

Beomgyu groans, but deep inside he knows it really is too late to run anyway, so he just picks up a drink and prays that it will get him through what is to come. Lady Choi leads Lady Kang off to a group of their friends, so Beomgyu makes idle chatter with Taehyun and his brother until a familiar face catches his eye. 

Your expression is so blank when you meet his gaze that Beomgyu almost laughs. He’s never seen a person more resigned to their fate than you in this moment, plodding along just behind your stepmother with about as much will to live as Beomgyu feels right now. Even without asking, he knows you’ve been to one of the musicales before, and he knows you’ve been dragged along this time too. 

“Is that Miss L/N?” Soobin asks, squinting. “Poor woman.”

Poor woman, indeed. For all the ill will between the two of you, Beomgyu wouldn’t wish the Smythe-Smith musicale on anyone, not even you. 

By now you’ve caught Beomgyu’s eye as well. A tiny smirk lifts the corners of your mouth, and without hesitation, you begin wading your way through the mess of people over towards his little group. “Lord Choi, Mr. Choi. Lord Kang.” You make a short, pretty curtsy. “Allow me to convey my deepest apologies for seeing you here this evening. Not because I don’t particularly wish to see any of you, but because if you are here, you might be carted out on a hospital wagon within the next hour or so.”

Beomgyu chokes into his drink. Next to him, Taehyun looks to be biting back some sort of chuckle, and Soobin just laughs. “A pleasure to see you too, Miss L/N,” he says, smiling warmly. “I take it you’ve been to one of these before.”

“Two years ago.” You shudder, and it doesn’t even look exaggerated. “I am no accomplished musician, but I am almost certain the piano is not meant to be played the way I saw.” Your expression turns mischievous. “I’m afraid I found myself ill the next year.”

“Not ill this year, then?” Beomgyu asks. 

You look at him, and to Beomgyu’s surprise, a moment of genuine amusement passes between you two. “My illness was unfortunately not believed.”

Soobin bursts into laughter. “Miss L/N, I’m so glad you are on better terms with my brother now,” he snickers, hopefully not seeing the sidelong glance you and Beomgyu share. “Your wit was always the best part of our gatherings when we were younger.”

You shoot Beomgyu a triumphant glance that makes him want to grind his teeth. “I am honored to hear that you hold me in such high regard,” you say sweetly, so sweetly Beomgyu thinks he’s going to have a headache. He’d certainly fake it and leave if he wasn’t supposed to be courting you. Unfortunately, though, the crowd is starting to shift towards the hall, so even if he tried to escape Soobin or Taehyun would definitely catch him. “It looks like the music is starting soon,” Beomgyu says, hoping you catch the hint.

Fortunately, you do. “I will leave you for the musicale, then,” you say, searching the crowd for someone. “I must find my stepmother.” 

Unfortunately, Soobin does not catch any hints whatsoever, so he interrupts. “Sit with us,” he invites, oblivious to Beomgyu screaming at him with his mind. “You can bring your stepmother, I’m sure no one would mind.”

If Beomgyu hadn’t been looking at you, he would have missed the slight shadow that passes over your eyes, the miniscule wince that pinches the corner of your mouth at the mention of your stepmother. Your features turn pleasant so fast that he almost wonders if he was imagining things, but even as you agree and go to wave your stepmother over, a feeling of unease settles at the back of his mind. You look the same, act the same even as you follow your stepmother into the hall, but only when you settle into seats next to each other does something finally twig for Beomgyu.

You sat together like this in your drawing room when he called on you last week. When you hurried in, having just come back from town on a search for gloves, when your stepmother walked in and you froze for a moment. Beomgyu looks at you sideways, sitting placidly on your chair, hands folded neatly in your lap. Is it just his imagination, or do your fingers look more clenched than usual?

And aren’t those the same gloves you were wearing last week? In fact, the same gloves you almost always wear? He frowns. Last week you just said you went shopping for a new pair—did you not buy any?

The sound of muted applause temporarily distracts him as the musicians step onto the stage. He dutifully joins in, but as the crowd begins to settle, Beomgyu allows his mind to wander back to you and your small miscellany of strange actions he’s seen this evening. It might be disrespectful not to listen to the music—good God, even their tuning sounds terrible—but Beomgyu is already being respectful enough by showing up. The only other requirement for respect as far as he’s concerned is to just get through the program, and everyone knows the best way to get through a Smythe-Smith musicale is to focus on anything other than the music. 

A cacophony of screeching starts sounding from the stage. Beomgyu peeks over at Lady Kang and almost cackles out loud. Horror, disgust, and regret war on her features while Taehyun looks quietly miserable next to her. On their other side, Soobin has already spaced out and is staring blankly into the distance, and Lady Choi seems to be fighting back tears. 

Beomgyu looks sideways at you. You look even more resigned than before if that is even possible, your features arranged in an expression of silent pain and suffering. Your hands have changed position in your lap from their previous polite fold to clenched fists. Beomgyu agrees with that sentiment. But your clenched fingers remind him of the day he called, when your butler called your mother in and he looked down to see your hands balled in your gown, very similar to how they are now. 

He glances at your stepmother. Her face always seems to be pinched—pinched right now, pinched when she took Delia out of the drawing room, pinched even when she smiled to greet him that day. He’s never really heard anything about her—she married your father when Beomgyu was going off to boarding school, and anyway your families never really became close after it became abundantly clear that you and Beomgyu couldn’t be in the same room without trying to fight. She doesn’t walk in the same circles as he, and she doesn’t appear much in Whistledown. Come to think of it, in your family, the only one who keeps managing to make a fuss in society is you. 

All of this just means Beomgyu doesn’t know much about your stepmother, and thus based off of prior information, he can’t form much of an opinion on her. But there’s something about her continual sour countenance that rubs him the wrong way. And…

The day he called, before she knew Beomgyu was in the drawing room, your stepmother called for you. Instead of the screeching music piercing his ears from onstage, he hears her cold voice asking why you were in the drawing room, why you weren’t doing whatever it is she wanted you to do before the butler interrupted. As soon as he announced Beomgyu’s presence, her tone changed. 

Right. He remembers the sudden shift jarring him, then seeing your expression grow strange in a way he couldn’t describe—something like discomfort, but worse. 

Beomgyu glances over at you again. Well, you look uncomfortable now, but that could very well be because of the tragedy occurring onstage. He himself has half a mind to explode his eardrums right here and now.

No matter. Beomgyu thinks back to the other day. He asked if you were all right, and you said…well, you said nothing. Your stepmother interrupted with her welcome. And then there was the headache of having to hold small talk with you, then the flurry of meeting your absolutely adorable younger sister before he actually had to leave, and between all the legal discussion that followed at the solicitor’s and the drinks at Mondrich’s after, he didn’t think much of the day after that. 

Well, he’s thinking about it now. And now that he has actually applied his brain to your situation, Beomgyu finds himself coming to the conclusion that you don’t get along with your stepmother. At all. And not in the usual way that children fight with their parents every so often—this dislike seems to be deeply rooted somewhere else. 

Maybe that isn’t so surprising, given that your stepmother is not your birth mother. Beomgyu can understand how that might start conflict in a family. But he looks at your clenched hands and remembers how your fingers balled into your gown in something like…anxiety. Maybe even fear. 

Do you fear your stepmother?

No. That must be going too far. Beomgyu shakes his head slightly. How could you, a veritable spitfire, be frightened of anyone? Besides, all of this is based just off of speculation from one day. While he’s fairly certain you and your stepmother are not on good terms, to assume anything else would be pure conjecture, and he isn’t ready to go that far. 

Applause breaks out throughout the hall and Beomgyu nearly jumps. He hadn’t realized the program was over, but he’s so grateful that he joins in on the clapping with enthusiastic verve. As everyone begins filing out back into the previous reception room, he hears Lady Kang tell her husband they need to go home immediately. Smart woman. It would have been smarter to not have come at all, though. 

Next to him, you heave out an audible sigh of relief. “Oh my God,” you mutter. “It was so much worse than I remembered.”

“It always is,” Beomgyu mumbles back. “Oh, look—refreshments.” He jerks his head to a table laden with drinks and small trays. “Shall we?”

You glance back at your stepmother, and maybe it is just his imagination, but you seem slightly more relieved when you realize the refreshments table will be taking you far away from her. “That would be lovely.”

The two of you make your way through the crowd in time for Beomgyu to snag two of the last glasses of lemonade from the table. He hands one to you, then raises his. “To our everlasting health,” he says, “and the preservation of our eardrums.”

You laugh out loud. It’s a lovely, bright sound that almost takes Beomgyu aback for a moment—surely he could not have made something so genuinely happy leave your lips like this. But you only raise your glass with an accompanying smile, and Beomgyu can’t help but smile back when you echo his sentiments, then take a sip of your drink. “I will be honest, I found myself praying my eardrums would explode halfway through,” you admit under your breath. 

“Me too,” Beomgyu agrees. “I thought the performance would never end.” He snickers, a memory returning to him. “Did you see Lady Kang’s face?”

You laugh again, bright and genuine. “It was one of the first things I looked for,” you say, mischief entering your eyes. “And it was absolutely priceless.”

And that’s it. That’s how easy it is, apparently, to hold a conversation with you that isn’t full of barbs and taunts and teeth gritted between every retort. Beomgyu doesn’t know if you find this as strange as he does, but for all its strangeness, he likes it more than he probably should. So he says nothing of it, and neither do you, and as your glasses are slowly emptied, the only barbs you share are those Beomgyu would say are of…friends. 

Friends. He never thought he’d use that word in conjunction with you. But right here, with lemonade in hand and the screeching strains of a violin fading in his ears, it doesn’t seem so out of place. 

Too soon, you finish off your glasses. Beomgyu turns to the refilled table to pick up two more, but before he can extend another one to you, someone else’s hand appears in front of you. 

Beomgyu blinks. You blink. Both of you turn to meet eyes with Lord Kim, and a few other gentlemen standing behind him. 

“Mr. Choi. Miss L/N.” Lord Kim gives Beomgyu a brief nod before turning back to you. “Might I offer you a glass of lemonade?” 

You look at Lord Kim and his group, then at Beomgyu. Slowly, you reach out to take the glass from Lord Kim’s hand. “Thank you, my lord,” you say quietly. 

Beomgyu watches the exchange, feeling oddly detached from the scene. His brain is doing something strange in his head. Why is it that he resents Lord Kim for interrupting the two of you, and why is it that he seems to want to continue his conversation with you?

“Might I take the opportunity to speak with you, Miss L/N?” Lord Kim asks. “I don’t believe we have had the pleasure of being formally introduced, and I’d like to take the chance to do so.” He gives Beomgyu a little smile that seems to lack any fondness whatsoever. “It seems Mr. Choi has been keeping a rare jewel hidden from the rest of the ton.”

Inwardly, Beomgyu bristles. He never kept you hidden, and anyway, if Lord Kim thought you were such a jewel, why didn’t he pursue you during either of your previous seasons? Instead, though, he forces himself to smile back. After all, this is what he is here for. To help you find a husband. You’ve already done your part of driving away determined mamas and delusional admirers. It’s time for him to uphold his part of the bargain, and this is the first time a man has showed such direct interest in you. He has no right to refuse you the opportunity. “Could you blame me for wanting to keep such a gem to my own self?” he retorts with an easy grace honed only by years spent in society. “But should you like to speak with Miss L/N, I will not refuse you the chance to be in her presence.”

You give him a little smile before you leave, something like gratitude glinting softly in your eyes as you let Lord Kim lead you away. Beomgyu tells himself he’s happy, that he has you out of his hair and out of his realm of responsibility, that he no longer has to feign pleasantry he doesn’t actually feel around you. He can’t quite explain away the bitter feeling on his tongue as you leave, though.

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)

[thatsatricky1]

𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐬

There are many things in life that others enjoy at a younger age much more than when they grow up. One of those things was seasonal holidays. Of course there are the most obvious ones that come to mind. New years, Easter, Halloween and Christmas.

Halloween was the time for little ones to explore creativity, dressing up as their favourite characters for the most part. They got to traverse the streets way past their scheduled bedtimes to go door to door in hopes of sweet treats getting dropped into their filling candy bags/buckets. Their parents rushing to get costumes or make homemade passable ones, watching their kids from the sidelines knocking on trusted neighbours doors and already thinking of the headaches they’d receive off their sugar high kids for the next couple of weeks.

Though as children start to grow up experiencing hardships and gruelling puberty Halloween turns into parties and hang outs. Costumes became more elaborate as their taste in media changed, no longer needing the help of their parents. For some Halloween has already become trivial and a past seasonal holiday they no longer participate in preferring to go about their mundane day or just putting on a quick horror flick.

Young adults indulging in the seasonal holiday, not for the childlike wonder it used to cause but as an excuse to party or celebrate only with the difference of wearing an outfit, a rare gem here and there but the main focus for most was to dress as elaborate as possible to catch the eye of others. Whether that be a goofy costume to get a laugh out of friends, or a sexy outfit to attract that one person they wanted most. Though for many, Halloween in that age range was already a long forgotten concept and not of importance with many other things in mind.

But just because you may not be indulging in Halloween it doesn’t mean Halloween won’t worm its way back into your life whether you want it to or not. Maybe just maybe you really should have paid attention to the rules of Halloween a little better, don’t you agree?

Y/n was no exception to time, growing up and growing out of her childlike wonder. Why focus on something like Halloween when she had deadlines to meet? A part time job that was really trying to push her boundaries on the ‘flexible shift times’ and going to university in an attempt of getting that one slip of paper that held hope for possible good jobs in the future.

She’d made it clear this year to each and every friend she wasn’t interested in being dragged to a Halloween frat party that was just another excuse for young adults to get drunk, high and forget about those stacking student loan debts and responsibilities looming. The closest thing she’d entertain was a quiet day in, a quick horror movie and then a well deserved nap.

So which one of her friends had decided to trick her on Halloween? She stared down at eight envelopes, each laying flat on her bedroom dresser in various colours. Each letter looked just as inviting to open, yet she picked the one closest that happened to be a crisp mundane white colour.

Grabbing her knife letter opener and slicing the top of the envelope clean open before dipping her index finger and thumb inwards, tugging out the lettered content inside.

Flicking it open and scanning the page she was met with very confusing context.

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝,

After all this time we were certain our intentions would have been clear to you by now, yet I think we must have overestimated ourselves in terms of how well we fitted in with your mundane life. Or to reword it a bit more bluntly, we toned down our true selves to be able to be near you.

However our patience only extends so far, we aren’t exactly known or fond of it. So in some maybe even sick way, why not do this around the time of year people decide to self indulge in the more thrilling seasonal event, Halloween. Quite ironic with the needed context.

Laid out on your desk are seven more envelopes, each varying in size and colour belonging to different individuals. All you need to do is pick one. Just one. And that in itself will give us our answer.

𝐒𝐃𝐒

Her hands were quick to close the letter, eyebrows furrowed in pure confusion. It lacked all and any context needed. Just words printed down on a clean sheet of paper. With a flick of her wrist, the letter was discarded, landing just an inch from the trash can below her desk.

Her eyes shifted now over to the seven unopened envelopes on her desk. Many questions flicking through her mind all at once. How had the anonymous sender known she’d pick up the white envelope to begin with? What would have happened if she’d opened up a coloured one? What will happen when she picks one envelope to open and read? Why only pick one?

Disregarding the hoard of questions, she held back a roll of her eyes considering just how dumb the whole situation was figuring she’d find out which one of her friends had done this soon enough when she read one of the letters in front of her. She reached her hand out, going off of pure instinct knowing exactly which envelope she wanted to open.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞

Why not pick the Purple card? It was the obvious choice. It laid in the centre as if calling out, the better choice, the only choice. A perfect and neatly waxed seal right in the centre with lavender tucked underneath it, wafting a calming and relaxed scent into the air overpowering any other smell nearby. This was clearly the right one to choose.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞

The Yellow card practically wanted to be opened, needed to be opened. It was meant for you and no one else. If only one could be opened it would be this one. A little too much golden wax around the seal proved that more was better. Two daisies nearly falling out of the envelope basically showed there were many more inside, all for you. The choice was already made the moment you laid eyes on the thick envelope.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞

The Pink card called out, demanding attention, the delicious smell of floral scents hitting your nose just right in its delicate small pink pouch sitting at the corner on top of it. The waxed seal was messily like raw emotion stamped by its anonymous sender, drying before it could drip any further down the envelope. Picking this one was like breathing, you had to, it was just so tempting.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞

The Green card, it should be the one you choose. None of them compared to this one, the leaves wrapping around the top so meticulously, leaves winding down to gently rest on top of the waxed seal that was perfectly circular with quite the curious choice of wording melted into it. It was supposed to be yours from the start, no one else’s.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞

The Orange card looked enticing, a single flower tapped to the front of it as if a promise of what could lay inside considering it was thick, more flowers most likely waiting to be revealed. Even the waxed seal promised more and more, slightly overflowing from where it had been pressed too much wax having been used. And who were you to deny picking something with just that more involved inside.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞

The Red card screamed, no demanded to be chosen. Rose petals flicked half hazardly underneath it, the waxed seal having been stamped with force, causing extra wax to be shoved outwards to the right side drying over the envelopes opening. A red silk bow laid on the bottom right corner whether an afterthought or meticulously placed there, it was loud and bold. Who were you not to give in to its demands, that was your card.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞

The Blue card laid out on the desk was much less noticeable than the others, less elaborate. The waxed seal having most likely been pressed with little force by the way the melted wax oozed dry on all corners and lifted too soon to completely seal the envelopes opening, two pieces of sticky tape randomly placed on each side to properly close it instead. So little thought put into it, but even with little effort it was the most preferred one. Choosing this one was as easy as blinking.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @rotinyzen @wonyoungmywife @snflwrhaerecs4u @thegreenlynx @serinebsblog @delululi @molensworld @morkiee @marvelahsobx @kaciebello @kgneptun @bluedbliss @haechansbbg @officiallyjaehyuns @bunnychui @audreybub @sleepyvic @winwintea

(This Taglist is used for all my nct context so if you’d like to be tagged in my nct content please comment or write to me to be added)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Y’all better be as excited as I am for this, I’m hoping to have this posted on time for Halloween fingers crossed.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

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[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

the thing is. why bring Rose back for this finale. she didn't particularly do much other than standing around and looking pretty. I assume there'll be more of her for the second part. I stand by my original assertion from the star beast that it doesn't make sense that she can just 'give up' the alien DNA she was born with. my point back then was that it would be fun if she could regenerate, and ended up becoming the timeless child herself, thus making the Doctor's entire existence a very fun paradox AND also canonizing the 'half human, on my mother's side' line from the 8th doctor's movie (my beloved) (because Donna was only half human whether she knew it or not).

HOWEVER.

all the susan-baiting is really getting to me. I want our weird little granddaughter back. they canonized the fact that the Doctor doesn't actually know who her parents were. and I REMEMBER. that Susan's original gallifreyan name was Rose. well, their language's equivalent of it. that's how Rose Tyler got her name, it was meant to be a cute little easter egg, the first classic companion and the first new who companion sharing a name. so walk with me. the weird girl daughter of Donna Noble, who grew up on earth but never fit in there, who has the Doctor's DNA woven into her being, and access to a yardis, and can in this scenario regenerate...coming across a younger version of the her father/uncle, introducing herself as Rose (which translates to gallifreyan, I really don't feel like looking up the spelling rn I'm sorry it started with an A), the doctor can recognize her- as family, he thinks, not knowing its a spark of him, their shared mind. she knows about how risky spoiling the future would be, she doesn't know if he has siblings and he looks older than she's ever seen him, so she says she's his granddaughter instead of his niece. daughter. him. she's part time lord. she lives longer than her human family. the Doctor is all she has left and she wants to be with him even if it isn't a him that knows her yet. she's heard the phrase 'timey wimey' before, and she's a smart and careful girl. she finds she doesn't fit in on gallifrey any more than she ever fit in on earth. the Doctor knows exactly what that feels like. they travel. when her human friend renames her Susan, she likes it a lot. feels like when she changed her name the first time. freeing, empowering, becoming. feels like the new name fits her new life better. Rose has a long dead family but Susan has her grandfather. the part of her that is her mother and father, though, still craves human connection. the love and fascination with humanity that she inherited from the Doctor is still there. she tells him all about humans and he takes her to visit them more and more to humor her. she ends up fostering his love for earth that will one day define him AND lead to her creation. she accidentally coins the name tardis the same way the doctor will accidentally invent a banana daiquiri a few centuries too early. he just thinks she's creative and silly. a very dear child. odd and bizarre to her classmates at school, but it's nowhere near as bad as it was the first time around. sometimes she even goes to see a younger Wilf. he's somehow exactly how she remembers him as an old man. she's so grateful they're in the 60's though, because if she ever has to look into the eyes of a Donna Noble who didn't know her, she thinks she may actually die. but the Doctor- he IS enough. he is still part of her, part of her mother, even if he doesn't realize it. she can't help but worry over his health, even knowing he lives long past this, because she got so used to helping his older self in his retirement. she knows him better than he knows himself. she'd do anything for him, and she knows he'd do anything for her.

she just never thought leaving her was something he'd do, though.

[rotating-hyperfixations]

Teen Yellowjackets Niche Specific NJ Headcanons:

Watching Yellowjackets has me reflecting on my own teenage hood and I grew up in NJ, so therefore I constantly think way too much about dumb shit they could do that’s specific to growing up in New Jersey and thus this list was born:

Growing up Nat was a CEO catholic (Christmas and Easter only). Her parents don’t really believe, but there’s enough Catholic guilt there from their childhoods that they feel like they should go for the big holidays. They stop going when her dad dies.

Lottie was informally adopted by an elderly Italian couple who owns a deli. In middle school she started going there nightly for dinner when her parents were out of town, and the owners were so confused/disgusted that they always made sure she had a meal free of charge, even though she could pay. Even into high school they give her extra food, she usually pawns it off on Van or Nat, or sometimes Shauna if her mom’s working the night shift at the hospital.

Van worked at a pizza place. She hates it, but they let her take slices home for free and she likes that it feels like one of those jobs a character would work in an 80s coming of age movie.

Jackie’s parents have a beach house in LBI. The soccer team takes it over for one week every summer

Shauna likes to drive down Ocean Ave late at night listening to her mixtape that she made specifically for those drives (this basically a right of passage for teenagers who grew up by the shore, myself included).

There is infighting amongst the team about which is better: Dunkin Donuts or Wawa. They had to put a moratorium on the topic because things were getting too personal.

Van looks up to Kevin Smith and loves Clerks because he was also from a small town in NJ and was able to get his movie made.

Tai is ready and willing to kick anyone’s ass who tries to defend Pineapple on pizza, she thinks it’s a crime against pizza and it should be outlawed. Jackie is a pineapple on pizza enjoyer, this causes problems.

They all live in central Jersey and fight with opposing teams at tournaments and matches about whether or not that section of the state exists.

Nat is a transplant from North Jersey and they all give her shit for her accent that she just can’t shake.

Misty is an NJ transit defender, even though the service barely functions.

Shauna is banned from watching the Giants and Yankees because she has anger issues and spends their entire game yelling at the tv.

Nat and subsequently Van (Nat-Van childhood best friends you are very dear to me) call it Taylor Ham, whereas the rest of the team calls it Pork Roll. Each side has attempted to convert the other, but have yet to be successful.

They were all devastated when Action Park at Vernon Valley closed because it meant they could no longer get shitty cheap beer without being carded.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I was staring at Rook’s dream room for longer than is probably socially acceptable trying to find more Easter Eggs and did you notice the banner with the pansexual colors on the left side? Interesting because it also says “someday my *prince* will come”, but Neige’s beret says “someday my *princess* will come”. Rook buddy what does this mean?

[Referencing this post!]

Oooooh, I see it! I’m not sure if those are the colors of the pansexual flag though; the blue looks too dark, even if we discount the shadow. It’s more likely the same shades of red, yellow, and blue that we see Neige wearing; it’s a pretty prominent color scheme in his side of the room:

If you look at Neige’s beret, it does say “Someday, my princess will…” until the words can’t be seen anymore due to the angle that we’re looking from. We can infer that the last word in the phrase is “come”, as this is a reference to a song by the same name that Snow White sings.

Veeery interesting that Rook’s dream contains the “true” phrase whereas Neige’s hat has the same phrase but slightly altered. It makes me a little suspicious, especially since Mickey seems to be dreaming about Twisted Wonderland whereas Yuu seems to be dreaming about Mickey’s world… So do all the dreams of the Twisted Wonderland characters actually contain some nugget of “truth” about the true Disney original???

Another reading could be that “Someday my prince(ss) will come” could be…? Neige’s UM…? I only say this because the banner that mirrors his on Vil’s side says “Fairest One of All”, which is the name of Vil’s UM. Then again, these could be general phrases that are just commonly associated with both celebrities and I could be talking out of my ass here.

… Silliest interpretation of this detail is that in Rook’s ideal world/happy ending, Neige is gay/bisexual and Rook aggressively ships him with Vil 🥺 (which honestly I would believe, given that melodramatic scene where Vil steps up to defend Neige and Neige gets all teary-eyes about the possibility of Vil getting hurt).