#you could hate your body and still recognize that you deserve all those things

[nandolonso]

Title: Nights like this (Kimi Räikkönen x Reader)

Warnings: Kimi catches you dancing, mostly fluff, a little bit of stress, and sweet-sweet Kimi.

I want a man like this. When will God hear me out?! T_T

Word count: around 1500

English is not my main language, so I’m sorry for any mistakes. I'm also sorry for the picture and the blurred wife, but I wanted to set the mood. PLEASEFORGIVEME.

//

“Y/N,” Kimi called out your name. His voice broke the silence three times in the last 30 seconds. But nothing. No answer. Not even a little sound. Nothing. Weird.

However, you didn’t hear a thing. You were at the bottom of your shared house, inside the study with headphones on. Although, you could have chosen not to work thanks to Kimi, for some reason you still didn't want to “live that up”. You wanted to bring something to the table, and you wouldn't have been able to sit on your butt all day anyway. So, you worked. A little too much these days. All week. All month. And let’s add plural to the end of those words.

The last period has been particularly difficult for you. You had to work with a lot of clients as an account manager. And sometimes (well mostly), your bosses were assholes. More than once, Kimi almost went to your workplace to finally put them in their place and burn that place to the fuckin’ ground. But you always shut him down for some stupid reason. Even though, they would deserve it. Because all you've wanted to do lately is quit. You were burnt out, you were tired. But at least you had one thing in your life that was worth everything: Kimi.

You couldn't tell how grateful you were for him. Although everyone called him “The Iceman”, you didn't know that side of him at all. Yes, he was honest, straightforward, sometimes grumpy, but never towards you. With you he was always kind, loving and understanding. He hated everyone but you. And he showed it to you. More than anyone else ever had, he showed you what it truly meant to love: genuinely and unconditionally.

Kimi furrowed his eyebrows as he pushed himself away from the kitchen counter – where he had prepared everything for your dinner together – and headed downstairs. He was worried about you as you didn’t reply to him, and he hadn't heard anything from the study for a while now. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but for some reason it gave him an incredible sense of calmness to hear you rattle around even when you were “quiet”. He adored you, in a way that sometimes it scared him.

Meanwhile, before you knew it, you stood up from your working table with your headphones on and started to dance. The beat was infectious to you, closing your eyes, you imagined the whole place was yours. You moved with confidence, spinning, and striding gracefully, bending low and rising up with a flick of your hair, your hips swaying side to side. Completely lost in the tunes, you danced like no one was watching.

But someone was watching, and it was Kimi. He leaned to the doorframe as the scene unfolded in front of his eyes: your carefree and confident side surfacing. His mouth went dry, and he felt rooted to the spot as he watched you. Even in just sweatpants and a sports bra on, he’d never seen you look more beautiful or more captivating. Or sexier… He swallowed hard and tried to ignore the sensation which started to take over his body.

He didn't want to bother you, but he couldn't take his eyes off you. He heard the tunes from your earphones, as it was blasting at full volume. He recognized that “girly music” (as he called it) from TikTok. He suppressed a smile, secretly loving when you watched those stupid videos next to him and laughed like a fuckin’ maniac. He loved your laugh.

Song after song, you put on a full show for your (not-so) imaginary audience. When you finally spun around and opened your eyes, you saw Kimi leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Even though you’d been together a long time, a blush crept up your cheeks. You quickly yanked down your headphones, only making the music blare even louder.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked, but Kimi didn’t answer right away. Your breath caught as his gaze held yours, those icy blue eyes now smoldering with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Long enough,” he replied in that typical Kimi tone of his, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. You switched off your Bluetooth headphones, and the music started playing now from your phone speakers. A daring idea came to your mind.

“Dance with me,” you breathed out, extending a hand towards him.

“You know I’m not a good dancer,” he replied, his voice teasing. Lies. You both knew it; he was a much better dancer than he let on. You loved those moments when you’d both get a little tipsy and end up pressed close, unable to keep your hands off each other.

He shook his head a little bit, then sighed. After a few seconds, he pushed away from the doorframe and moved towards you, his gaze meeting yours. Your heart raced as he reached your side, taking your hand and placing his other firmly on the small of your back: his fingers splaying out between your lower back and…

He pulled you close, and you instantly melted into his touch, a soft sigh escaping as you began to sway together to the music. He led you effortlessly… Not a good dancer. Right. What a lie… The way he held you made your skin tingle.

It started right at your lower back, where he touched you. Then, the sensation slowly started to work its way all over your body. From head to toe, like a poison that spreads through your veins. That sweet, hypnotic, deadly toxin that you couldn't get enough of. Because when it came to Kimi, nothing was ever enough. You wanted more. More. To take and possess. And that feeling deep down scared you because no one had ever had that effect on you. It was intoxicating and something you never wanted to let go of. And you won’t because Kimi felt the same way about you.

As you looked up into his eyes, the song Nights Like This began to play, and suddenly, it felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room as the lyrics were written just for this moment.

Hold my hand until we turn to ashes...

Kimi’s gaze softened, his fingers pressing a little more firmly into the small of your back, holding your other hand tenderly with his. The way you looked at each other, the way your breaths mingled, it almost turned your world upside down. No matter how long you've known each other, that feeling never changed.

Love me 'til they put me in my casket...

Your heart skipped, feeling a rush of something deep and unspoken passing between the two of you.

I got all these feelings that I'm maskin’...

You wondered if he felt it, too: that quiet ache, the vulnerability the words held.

You let out a soft breath, barely above a whisper as you were singing the song, “Can I lay it on you? That’s what I’m askin”’.

And without saying a word, Kimi pulled you even closer, as if his answer was already there, steady and clear in his embrace.

You stayed like that with the song all the way through, completely intertwined with each other and swaying softly. When the song ended and another began, you pulled back just enough to look up into his eyes.

“Kimi,” you whispered.

“Kultsi?” he replied, a slight smirk tugging at his lips –barely there, but somehow, always present just for you.

“I love you so much… I hope you know that” you murmured, leaning deeper into his touch, feeling the last of your stress melt away. With him, you felt completely at peace, blissfully content.

“I love you more,” he replied, and leaned down to kiss you with the same impulse. He was more a man of action than talk anyway. He grabbed the back of your neck as he pulled you closer and deepened the kiss. His mouth sweetly explored yours, brushing his tongue against yours.

You pulled him even closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him back as if your life depended on it. Dinner was waiting in the next room, getting colder by the second, but he didn’t care; right now, you were all he wanted. You were the meal he craved. Even starved.

With a swift, effortless movement, he slid his hands under your thighs and lifted you, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, laughing as you pulled him closer.

He looked at you, his eyes alight with something deeper. That laugh...

“I love you,” he murmured again, his voice almost a growl, and carried you over to the worktable. He nearly swept your things to the floor, but you stopped him, quickly moving your laptop and phone aside. After all, you’d need those later…

You let out a soft chuckle as you did so and when you turned back, you could see his eyes darken with something. It made the air stuck in your lungs.

“And I’m going to show you just how much,” he whispered hoarsely and began to slowly undress you…

[uncanny-tranny]

I think abandoning diet culture and favouring the function of my body versus the ~aesthetic~ of my body has really opened my eyes and given me a new chance to be one with myself.

It is hard to get through this, but I honestly think it's worth the investment it takes to unlearn the idea that your body must serve others and must be out of the way, and must only take up so much space to be valued and for you to be loved.

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 1 : Your Name

Series Summary: You've nursed a broken heart for two years. ‘Love’ felt like a foreign term, but maybe it wasn’t so far out of reach. Chap. 1 Summary: When you catch the eye of your students' dad at a school dance, he starts showing up everywhere. Rating: 18+ MDNI (for the future smut) Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, age gap (joel is 36 reader is 27), no smut (yet), sexual tension, flirting, pining, mentions of alcohol, language, angst, reader's last name is 'Smith' for no other purpose than the fact she is a teacher A/N: This will definitely be a slow-burn fic, so please hang tight!! Tropes include: second chance at love, strangers to lovers, secret relationship, etc. I'm actually so excited about this one, so I hope you guys stick around to see where it goes :')

Masterlist

PROLOGUE

You never thought you’d be the girl sitting at the steps of an abandoned altar with your wedding dress covered in mud from the rain.

��Just minutes before you were supposed to take your first steps down the aisle, your fiancé fled. You watched the blur of his suit in the distance as he ran through the rain and left your family and friends in shock. Motionless at the back of the rows of chairs, you dropped your bouquet and stood in heartbreaking silence as the cords of the violins faded into the air. Your parents and siblings swarmed around you, trying to break the paralysis that kept your eyes locked on the vacant spot under the archway and steps of what would have been the place you said your vows. You still had them in your hand; the words scribbled neatly on a folded paper torn from your journal. You’d never get the chance to say those words aloud; he never would have deserved them, anyway. 

The ring sat heavily on your finger now as you watched it glisten under the pelting rain. Your dress clung to your body in layers of silk and lace, a taunting reminder of who you had become for a man unworthy of your love and devotion. 

Five years together, all stripped away in a matter of minutes. 

You’d never love again. 

“Everyone’s gotta do it,” Maria sighed as she stood at the student drop-off with you.

By ‘it,’ she meant chaperoning the father-daughter dance later in the week, which you seriously wanted no part of. You had been through enough school dances in your three years working at the middle school, and you were tired of watching pre-teens grinding on each other to god-awful music. You had better things to do with your Friday nights, like sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream and a horror movie playing in the background—you’d sworn off rom-coms long ago.

“Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, waving another line of kids across the road. 

You watched as they trudged across the crosswalk with their backpacks slung over their shoulders, eyes bright and broad at the realization school was over for the day. If only they were that chipper in class, maybe you’d have an easier time teaching them how to write three-point essays. 

Maria chirped goodbye to each one as they passed, her cheeks pinched with a fake smile only you could recognize. You knew she loved the kids but loved the final school bell even more. You, on the other hand, hated it. The end of school was just another reminder that you’d go back to an empty home and an empty life. 

Two years had passed since Bennett ran from your wedding ceremony—two years without closure or an answer. By the time you had pieced yourself together and returned home from the would-have-been ceremony, his things were gone, and the house filled with the ghost of his presence. Your in-laws went radio silent, avoiding all calls and emails from you until they eventually moved out of state and changed numbers. The hours leading up to the ceremony would forever be a mystery as to why he left, and you would spend the rest of your life fighting for an answer as to why you weren’t good enough to love. 

Dragging you from your thoughts, Maria bumped you with her hip, giving you a concerned look. You shook away the memories and returned her stare with a fake smile you had mastered over the last two years. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had genuinely smiled or laughed without feeling the force of a facade washing over you. Concealing the pain of it all made it easier; maybe if you believed you were okay, you’d start feeling okay. But you never did. Not even the countless hours of therapy had helped reconcile the person you once were. Bennett had left and taken every vulnerable part of you with him, leaving nothing but a raw and broken shell in his wake. 

“You’re doing it again,” Maria scolded. 

“Doing what?” You asked, already aware of the answer.

“Wallowing. You really should get back out there again.”

You focused on the next grouping of kids setting out to cross the street, your hand instinctively coming up to hold the passing cars at a standstill. You plastered on a fake smile as they waved goodbye to you, and you glanced back at Maria once they finally stepped foot on the next sidewalk.

“I’m not interested,” you stated. “I’m fine on my own.”

Her eyebrow lifted as if challenging your blasé response. Your answer always remained the same, yet Maria relentlessly attempted to change your mind.

“You’ve got to at least try. What if there’s already someone out there just waiting for you?”

“Maria, I promise no one is waiting for me.”

“I wish you’d just give it a shot. You deserve to be happy.”

You had heard that phrase often over the last couple of years; a pitying tone always accompanied the words. People loved to soothe you with words that held no weight or purpose. You learned to nod along to their sympathies and turn a deaf ear to their suggestions of what you deserved. 

The final round of kids made their way toward the line of parents waiting in their cars, and you followed Maria back to your classrooms to clean up before leaving for the day. Her words stuck with you on the quiet drive home; the radio wasn’t enough to drown out that taunting voice in your head reminding you that you’d never be enough. 

Your single-story house was nestled into an older neighborhood of Austin, only a handful of miles from the middle school. You’d argue that the house was the best thing to come out of the failed engagement; its personality stood firm against the other houses with a vibrant shade of blue painted over its wooden panels and wrap-around porch. You spent the last few months sprucing up the front yard, planting rose bushes and trees to liven up the house. It hadn’t fixed all your problems but pacified them temporarily as you dirtied your hands in the soil. 

It became second nature to shut your garage immediately after putting your car in park. You didn’t want the typical neighborly interactions or shallow conversations. You were content with living between closed doors and drawn curtains. The less of an interaction with the world, the better. 

Dropping your purse and work bag on the kitchen counter, you sunk onto a barstool, staring blankly at the fridge and knowing all too well there was hardly anything inside it. You’d settle for another frozen meal and glass of wine, a typical meal these days to satisfy a hunger you no longer had. Despite the colorful kitchen cabinets, the mustard yellow couch in the living room, and the obscure wallpaper…your life was dull. How could one person suck out all the energy from another human being? How could pain last this long? 

You stabbed a fork into the TV dinner meal before you and wondered if you’d ever feel happy again. 

**

You managed to survive another week of teaching, only to now be standing in the shadows of the school gymnasium, nursing an overly sweet fruit punch. The PTA had done a decent job of turning the space into a somewhat realistic dance floor: string lights hung corner to corner of the ceiling, a DJ booth in the center of the basketball court, and colorful balloons circled the air. You spotted a few of your students dancing with their fathers, their eyes squeezed shut from their too-wide smiles and bubbling laughter. A foreign ache in your chest reminded you how you would have had a father-daughter dance at your wedding. Your father even took it upon himself to brush up on dance lessons to sway you across the floor to some overly emotional song. As corny as it was, you had been looking forward to that moment throughout your engagement. 

“Look who got all dolled up!” Maria hollered as she strolled over, fruit punch in hand.

“I would hardly call this dolled up,” you said, tugging at the hem of your dress.

You only had a handful of dresses in your closet, this particular one being a flowy black cocktail dress with a halter top and ruffled skirt. It was barely passing the school dress code, so you decided to pair it with a low kitten heel to try and deter the admin’s scrutiny. You did, however, spend a little more time than usual on your makeup and hair, hoping if you looked pretty, then maybe you’d feel it, too.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Maria sighed.

“You look great,” you said, sidestepping her lecture.

Maria had chosen a plum floor-length maxi dress decorated with embroidered blue flowers. Her curly hair was pinned in a bun, and several sparkly barrettes were clipped to the side. Her makeup was no different from usual: a rosy red lip and simple mascara with a hint of blush on her cheeks. 

“Really, Maria. You do.”

“Well, thank you,” she blushed, looking back toward the room full of bodies dancing.

Your eyes followed hers, settling on the duos as they swayed to a slow song. Every father was dressed up in some sort of button-up or the occasional suit except for one—the same one who happened to be twirling around your student, Sarah Miller. You nudged Maria, pointing secretly at them with a questioning glance.

“Is that her dad?” You asked.

He wore a basic cotton T-shirt, jeans, and dirty work boots. There was barely any thought behind his appearance as if he had rolled up to the school right after a long shift at work, forgoing any effort or care. Some part of you hated him for it. The least he could do was get dressed up for a silly school dance, especially when Sarah wore a lavender tulle dress that complimented her olive skin tone. 

“Yup,” Maria elongated the word. “That’s Joel Miller.”

“Sure looks like he doesn’t care to be here,” you grumbled.

Maria barked a laugh, looking at you through narrowed eyes.

“As opposed to you?” She questioned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you bitching about this dance all week long?”

“Well, at least I put some effort into my looks tonight,” you defended.

You glanced back at Sarah, seeing her father twirl her one last time. You caught a glimpse of his face for the first time in the flow of his movements. Messy dark curls framed his head, curling in every which way as if he’d run his hand through them a million times. Even from a distance, you could see the patchy beard and short mustache covering the lower half of his face, alongside the several creases around his eyes as he smiled.  And his eyes… They looked like big brown saucers under the lights, reflecting a genuine softness as he watched his daughter dance. 

And then they snapped up to meet your gaze through the crowd as if you had silently called out to him. Everything slowed around you for a moment as he studied you from afar, his eyes drifting down your body and back up with a hint of a smile teasing his lips. A rush of heat crawled up your neck, and you broke the eye contact between you. Maria cleared her throat beside you, tearing you away from the man holding your sincere interest. 

“What was that?” Maria chirped. 

You shook your head, glancing between her curious face and the dancefloor. Joel had since moved on, steering Sarah toward the refreshment table. He never once looked back at you, which left you unexplainably disappointed. For a moment in time, someone looked at you and saw you. 

“I–I don’t know,” you stuttered. “Probably nothing.”

“It looked like something.”

You turned to face Maria, a scowl twisting up your lips entirely. You were tired of her pushing nonexistent things on you, and that’s what this was— nonexistent. Whatever moment between you and Joel had gone as quickly as it came. You were done with the night and standing among so many cheerful people. You couldn’t stand it any longer. 

“I think I’m going to take off,” you announced, placing your half-drunk fruit punch on the table behind you. 

Maria was defeated, knowing you'd still leave no matter what she said. Stalking out of the gymnasium, you grabbed your purse from the teacher's booth and booked it to your car with your heels in your hands. You carefully walked along the sidewalk toward your car, catching a conversation drifting through the wind between the other vehicles. 

“...Dad, you promised we’d watch movies tomorrow!”

“I know, sweetheart, but Uncle Tommy needs help on the job sight.”

You hid between two cars, listening to their voices bounce back and forth. It wasn’t until you peeked out to see the two figures that you realized it was Sarah and her father, Joel. For fucks sake. You tiptoed around the car's bumper beside you, attempting to make a getaway before either of them saw you. You must have done a terrible job because Sarah called your name as you edged closer to your car.

“Miss Smith!”

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself. 

With your purse in one hand and heels in the other, you turned toward them with your rehearsed fake smile. Sarah was standing beside her dad—Joel—a small smile shining up at you. You knew her usual upbeat personality in class, always laughing and joking with other kids. She was an A+ student, too, and her work showcased her smartness. But in her father's shadow, a distinct sadness clouded her eyes. 

“Hello, Sarah! How did you like the dance?” You asked. 

“It was really fun,” she grinned, forcing her smile wider. You saw through it. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Joel cleared his throat, extending a large hand toward you. You blinked at his open palm, afraid of making that same startling eye contact as you had in the gymnasium. Shuffling your purse into your other hand, you took his into yours, focusing on the warmth of his grip crawling up your skin. His fingers dwarfed your own, tightening around your hand until you were forced to look up finally. 

“S’nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Smith,” he said, his thick Southern accent shining through.

“Miss Smith,” you corrected. It was hard to hide the bitterness in the statement. 

“Miss Smith,” he echoed. “I’m Joel, Sarah’s dad.”

His eyes still hadn’t left yours, their piercing stare making you shiver despite the September humidity. You pulled your hand away, overly aware of how his fingers lingered a moment too long. Shifting your weight from one leg to another, you were starting to feel the asphalt dig into the soles of your feet. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Miller,” you replied.

“Joel,” he insisted.

You nodded politely, giving him another faltering smile. Hauling your purse over your shoulder, you said a soft goodbye to them and bolted to your car. In the confines of the driver's seat, you rested your head against the wheel, inhaling deeply as you steadied the nerves inside your body. Why did such a simple interaction light up your body with emotions you had spent so long suppressing? And why did Joel’s smile haunt you even when your eyes were shut?

Forcing your keys into the ignition, you tore out of the school parking lot and back to the confines of your tiny blue home. 

The weekends were usually filled with nothing more than grading papers and lesson planning. The coffee beside you on the kitchen counter had gone cold hours ago as the morning sunlight faded into the afternoon. Through tired eyes, you glanced up at the oven clock: 2 pm. You needed a break from reading through piles of essays, and your fridge desperately required replenishing. Grabbing your keys off the counter, you forfeited any plans of changing out of your sweat set and headed to the supermarket.

The packed parking lot and crowded store were daunting reminders of why you typically decided to leave your fridge vacant. But as you pushed your shopping cart down each aisle, you had no choice but to comply with your basic human needs and stock up on miscellaneous food you would want throughout the week. Rounding down the next aisle, your eyes caught on a tall figure standing in front of the bakery section, his face scrutinizing every cake in the display case. Shit. 

You tried—and failed—to maneuver your way into the next aisle, somehow crashing into an older woman’s cart, forcing her carton of eggs to fall and smash onto the linoleum floor.

“Dammit,” you hissed, crouching down to try and help them clean up the shattered eggshells.

“S’alright, sweetheart,” she assured. “I’ll just holler for a worker to come clean it up.”

“No, I—I can help,” you stammered, fingers still running over the broken yolks spreading across the floor.

“Miss Smith?” You heard a deep voice above you.

Your head snapped up to see Joel standing above you; his forehead creased with concern. The woman you had crashed into was already down the next aisle looking for a store employee, leaving you alone with a mess you had caused. Joel crouched beside you, his hands folding over yours to slow your frantic cleaning.

“It’s alright, I got it!” You snapped, pulling your hands back.

“Just tryna’ help,” he said. “That’s all.”

“It’s my fault. I can fix it.” 

You had said those words to yourself many times before, and never once did they prove true. 

“Someone will come and clean this up; you ain’t gotta do all that,” Joel said softly. “C’mon.”

He offered a hand, which you took reluctantly, leaving you both standing awkwardly in front of the mess. You shifted your gaze downward, too afraid to meet those deep brown eyes that had plagued you the night before. 

“Hey,” Joel said in a soft tone. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You huffed a sigh, gripping the handles of your cart to start moving. Today was going downhill rapidly, and you only wanted to go home and hole yourself away…like you always did.

“I, uh, was tryna’ pick out a birthday cake,” he rambled. “S’my birthday tomorrow, and Sarah wants to make sure I have a cake, ya’know? Any ideas on what she might like? I’m not sure if y’all ever have parties at school with sweets and all that.”

Your eyes snapped to his, a scowl forming on your face. Sarah’s dad was asking you what she liked? He was proving to be worse and worse by the second. But you were her teacher and needed to hold your tongue.

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy anything,” you said, a tight smile forming. “Happy birthday, Mr. Miller.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, clearly seeing through the mask you put on. It was infuriating how easily he had wove his way through your bloodstream, even in just twenty-four hours. 

“Joel,” he insisted. “You don’t need to do all that formal stuff.”

“I kind of do,” you laughed. “You’re my students’ father; that’s how I’m supposed to address you.”

“S’all I’m sayin’ is that you’re free to call me Joel. No harm in it.”

There was a lot of harm in it. 

You didn’t know what else to say, so you dipped your head to say goodbye and pushed your cart past him. You weren’t being the kindest nor the most respectful person, but your anger was at a low simmer. Any longer around him, and you might explode. You weren’t used to someone getting under your skin like he was. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even trying. You couldn’t understand why you reacted so strongly. 

“Miss Smith!” Joel called, catching up as you moved down the next aisle.

You inhaled and stopped walking, mustering another fake smile to appease him. He gripped the side of your cart with a large hand, a simple gesture to keep you firmly in place. Clearly, he decided when the conversation was over.

“Yes, Mr. Miller?”

“Did I do somethin’ to upset you? ‘Cause I swear, I didn’t mean anything inappropriate by what I said back there. 

“No, no, you’re fine,” you lied. “Just having a bad day, that's all.” That wasn’t a lie.

Joel ran a hand over his neck, studying you quietly for a moment. Something about the atmosphere around him was intoxicating and so fucking dangerous. 

“Well, I’m sorry ‘bout that. Guess I was just tryna’ make small talk, and clearly, I ain’t doin’ a good job.”

“It’s fine—no need for apologies. I hope the cake and birthday celebration go well. I’m sure Sarah will tell me all about it on Monday.”

His eyes shifted over you again, lingering on your lips, set in a firm smile. You tried your best to hide the shiver that ran up your back as he drank you in. 

“Y’probably think I’m a terrible dad, huh?” He sighed.

“What?” You blinked away the thoughts swarming your head.

“I mean, I know you probably heard us arguin’ last night, and I’m out here asking her teacher what her favorite kind of cake is. You ain’t gotta be polite about it. I know I’m not doin’ the best job,” he confessed.

“Mr. Miller, I don’t think that at all. I just think maybe asking your wife would be more helpful than asking me.”

That garnered a laugh from him, a genuine and sincere laugh.

“Never had a wife to begin with. Sarah’s mom left us when she was only a year old,” he explained. “Been doin’ it all on my own.”

“Oh.” Dammit, you really were a bitch. 

“Trust me, I get it. I could do a better job, bein’ a dad and all that. I’m tryin’.”

“I think you’re doing just fine,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

He brushed it off, replacing the sad look cresting his eyes with a lopsided grin. You wanted to hate it, but your body reacted traitorously. You felt the softness in his gaze crawl over you, slowly replacing the anger coursing through your veins with something else…something you hadn’t felt in a long time. No one had looked at you that way since—well, since Bennett. Even if Joel was only being friendly, you were drawn to the charm he exuded. Dangerous, you reminded yourself.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I won’t hold ya’ up any longer. I hope your day gets better, Miss Smith.”

“Thank you,” you replied. “And Happy birthday, again.”

Joel’s eyes settled on your lips again as you talked, and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. His eyes flicked back up to yours, a flash of something behind them, and you were ready to bolt. He muttered a thank you and left you standing in a vacant aisle, your hands still covered in egg yolks and your mind reeling.

It was hard to maintain your good mood once Monday rolled around. Seeing Sarah sitting in class was an unwelcome reminder of your interaction with Joel on Saturday, and you had to refrain from overstepping boundaries and asking about his birthday. She didn’t need to know you cared, even though you struggled not to care. You wondered what kind of cake he decided on, how old he turned if he blushed when she sang Happy Birthday. Every thought burned a hole in your head that you tried to patch up and forget. 

The final bell rang for the day, and the kids began to pack up in a rush. You straightened out the papers lining your desk, avoiding eye contact with Sarah as she slung her backpack over her shoulders and lined up to leave. Grabbing your whistle and bottle of water, you followed them toward the front gates, taking your usual place alongside Maria—who was overly chipper for a Monday.

“Soooo,” she prodded. “How was your weekend?”

“Uneventful,” you lied, walking with her to the crosswalk. 

“You really need to go out and have fun! You’re young, and you need to enjoy your 20s!” She exasperated. 

“Maria, I’m 27,” you groaned. “My 20s are practically over.”

She folded her arms over her chest, leveling you with a heavy glare. Maria was in her late 40’s and clearly exuded a motherly-type attitude. You shifted your focus to the kids crossing the road, watching as they reunited with their parents. 

“We go out on Wednesdays for Happy Hour! Join us this week,” she suggested.

“I don’t know,” you sighed.

“Come on!” Maria pressed. “If you hate it, I’ll never ask you to go out with us again.”

There was no point in arguing with her, so you relented and agreed to one night out. A few drinks and hours of mindless conversation could be good for you. It would be better than sitting in front of the TV with a bland meal and another glass of wine.

You managed to evade all thoughts of Joel somehow the next two days, putting all your time and energy into prepping your students for their first test of the year. Lesson planning and preparation took up your free period and late evenings, leaving you little room to think about those brown eyes and disarming smile. It was Wednesday evening, and you were knee-deep in your closet, trying to find an outfit for Happy Hour. You had changed at least five times, discarding every top and skirt onto your bedroom floor. Eventually, you gave up, settling on tight jeans, a flowy red blouse, and black flats. You left your hair in wavy curls over your shoulders and simple makeup to balance everything out. 

The group took their Happy Hour rituals to a local dive bar on the outskirts of town, a row of motorcycles and trucks lining the entrance. You felt a bit out of place walking into a smoke-hazed bar, with the patron's wandering eyes crawling over you, but you quickly picked out the huddle of teachers in the corner laughing over a round of beers. They welcomed you with bright smiles and hellos, offering to buy your first drink. After about an hour and a few drinks, you felt warm and far more relaxed. Conversations about quarterly goals and admin meetings flowed over the table, each teacher complaining about something. You chimed in when necessary, keeping quiet when you had nothing to contribute. You were on your fourth beer when the girls around you started whispering low about a group of men entering the bar. You stole a peek over your shoulder, eyes settling on the last person you wanted to see. 

Joel Miller.

He had on his usual simple work attire, the fabric of his cotton shirt stretched out over his broad chest. His neck was tanned, most likely from working outdoors, and his hair was just as unruly as you remembered. The man beside him, shorter but with similar features, clapped Joel on the back and steered him towards the bar. You lowered your head, taking a longer gulp of your drink to try and steady your nerves. Of all fucking places, he had to be here. 

“He’s just so handsome, isn’t he?” Maria nudged you, tossing back a look towards Joel.

You shrugged, feigning disinterest. Joel was handsome, but no one needed to know how you felt. Because what you felt was very, very confusing. 

“He’s my students’ father, Maria.”

She rolled her eyes, swirling the contents of her drinks before taking a sip. 

“Okay, and? There’s nothing inappropriate about dating a student’s parent.”

“Yes, there is,” you snapped. “And I’m not even considering dating him.”

“But you think he’s attractive,” she stated.

You didn’t want to respond to that, knowing the warmth in your cheeks was already enough of a giveaway. If you shrunk far enough into yourself, you might go unrecognized the rest of the night.

Maria thankfully dropped the subject, returning to the conversation around the table. After another hour, the ladies started to trickle out of the bar and home for the night. You, on the other hand, still had to wait a bit longer until the alcohol phased out of your body. Which meant you were sitting alone in the same space as Joel. You could feel his eyes on your back the longer you sat there, and to your detriment, decided to steal a glance over your shoulder. Joel’s eyes raked over your body, returning your stare with a soft, welcoming smile. Shit.

You watched as he slipped off the barstool, waltzing towards you with a beer clasped in his large hand. You tried so hard not to notice his thick fingers wrapped around the bottle, and you most definitely tried not to think of what his fingers would feel like inside—

“Miss Smith,” he greeted, silencing your awful thoughts.

“Mr. Miller,” you said.

“Are all these formalities necessary in a bar?” he teased. 

“A couple of drinks won’t change my mind.”

Joel slid into the seat beside you without an invitation, his arm brushing against yours as he settled into the stool. It was instinct to flinch away, afraid of the reaction his touch would cause to your body. 

“What will change your mind?” he pressed, keeping a steady gaze on you.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, deciding to change the subject. “How was your birthday?”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, that stupid lopsided grin forming on his lips. 

“Can’t say I love gettin’ old, but celebratin’ was sure nice.”

“And how old are you, Mr. Miller?”

“Ripe age of thirty-six, Miss Smith,” he grinned. 

“What cake did you choose?” you asked, watching him take a long sip of his beer. 

“Vanilla. Everyone’s gotta love vanilla, right?” 

Was he… flirting with you? 

You’d blame your following response on the beers coursing through your bloodstream, but truthfully, you just wanted to play along, even only for a moment. 

“Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t always love vanilla, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, falling to your lips as you took another drink. It was bold and stupid of you to say that, but at this point, you didn’t care. 

“What other flavors do you like?” 

He leaned forward in his chair, his thigh pressing against yours. The heat of his body and the smell of smoke on his clothes was a dangerous combination for your self-restraint.  

“I have a few guilty pleasure flavors,” you smirked.

Joel’s hand damn near crushed the bottle when you said those words, his entire body tensing beside you. You couldn’t care at that moment about how you spoke; the drinks started speaking for themselves. You hadn’t dared to flirt with a man since Bennett left, too afraid of what falling in love again might do to you. But, for some reason, flirting with Joel felt so simple. He was older than you, and maybe that piqued your interest, knowing he was far more mature than anyone else you had considered. 

“Indulge me, Miss Smith,” he whispered. 

“I think I’ll leave it a mystery,” you whispered in return. “I’ve already said too much as it is.”

“I reckon you ain’t said enough,” he countered. 

Heat flared through your neck and face as he leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. This had gone too far. You had broken any rules you had previously set in place, and now you were dancing on a fragile line between professionalism and indecency. 

Glancing at the clock above the bar, you watched as the hands ticked closer to midnight. Just like in the fairytales, your time was up. Back to reality. 

“It’s getting late,” you started. “I should get home.”

Joel’s demeanor shifted, and his grin faltered as he watched you rise from the barstool. He brushed his hand over your arm, barring you from walking away. 

“Not real sure if you should be drivin’ home yet, Miss Smith. Y’had a few drinks tonight,” Joel protested.

“How do you know? Were you watching me?”

“Gotta make sure my daughter's teacher is safe. Who else’s gonna make sure she gets straight A’s?” 

He was trying to make light of the situation, but you knew better. You knew he had been watching you since he had arrived; his attention had never been on his group of friends. 

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you argued. “You go enjoy your night with your friends, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s brows furrowed as he considered you. His hand still lingered on your arm, thick fingers flexing against your skin. You glanced between his hand and his eyes, trying to make sense of his intentions. This was far past a coincidental run-in; this was a strange desire out of reach. 

“Can I drive you home at least?” He asked. 

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Can I at least drive behind you to make sure you make it alright?” He offered.

You looked back toward the bar, seeing the man he walked in with staring at you with an apparent scowl.

“I don’t think that’s fair to your friend,” you said.

Joel peered around you and huffed loudly. 

“That’s my brother, Tommy. S’all good, he’s probably ready to hit the road, too.”

“He doesn’t look too happy.”

“He’s fine,” Joel grumbled.

Tommy noticed you both staring at him and decided to join the mix. He walked up with a grin despite the scowl he had just worn and extended his hand to you.

“I’m Tommy. Joel’s brother.”

“Hi, I’m Sarah’s teacher.” You gave him a quick shake and tried to sidestep to leave.

“Wait!” Joel called out.

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. “Be safe tonight.”

You made a beeline for the door, hoping to escape him before he reeled you back in. You let yourself float in his atmosphere for too long, testing the waters you knew were off-limits. There was still an alcohol-induced haze lingering in your head, but the sooner you could leave, the better. Tomorrow would come with a headache and a post-drunken clarity to put you back on the right track. You needed to steer clear of Joel before you slipped up and allowed another man inside the walls you built. 

You attempted to retrieve your keys from your purse, only to fumble them out of your hands and onto the dirt ground of the parking lot. 

“Fuck,” you groaned.

As you bent to pick them up, footsteps crunching on the ground grew closer. You already knew who it was.

“Miss Smith,” Joel’s voice sounded pained. 

“I’m fine!” you shouted, whipping your head around to find him nearly toe-to-toe with you. 

The moonlight above you illuminated his brown eyes, which darkened the longer he looked down at you. You shrunk away, letting your body hit the driver's side of your door while Joel stepped closer. 

“Please. You shouldn’t be drivin’ right now. Lettin’ you leave like this wouldn’t be right of me.”

Your only focus was on his lips as he talked. The plushness of his lips enticed you, leaving you imagining how soft they’d feel pressed against yours. Your control was slipping, and the alcohol was pulsing faster in your veins. 

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” You wondered aloud. 

Joel looked at you like he knew the layers of the question. He knew what battle you were fighting inside and saw the fear plastered on your face.

“No,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes bounced between his eyes and his lips, trying to grasp the moment's weight. You needed to be firm and say no; your future self would thank you for it. Gripping your keys, you exhaled and turned towards your car door. 

“Have a good night, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. 

The warmth of his body pressed against your back, the smell of smoke and liquor wrapping around you and enveloping you in a cocoon of temptation. Joel’s hands reached around to grab your keys from your shaking hand, dangling them between you and the car. 

“M’taking you home, Miss Smith. Ain’t gonna argue anymore,” he said as his mouth fell to the shell of your ear. 

“I’m—.”

“Don’t,” he interjected. “Go to my truck.”

He had the exact tone you did when you reprimanded your students, but the deep rasp of his accent made it all the more inviting. You didn’t want to listen to his demands, but you were getting nowhere successfully. Joel sidestepped to free you of the cage he had you in, watching you intently as you sulked to his truck. It wasn’t hard to know which one it was; only a few cars were left, and the truck exuded the same masculinity as the owner. 

“What about my car?” You protested, folding your arms across your body as you leaned against the truck. 

“I’ll give Tommy the keys,” he said. “He’ll drive it behind us.”

You were about to ramble another slew of protests when Joel yanked the passenger side door open and tilted his head toward the interior. 

“Get in.”

His tone left little room for arguing, so you did as he said without another word. Despite the anger radiating off his body, Joel shut the door softly before heading back into the bar. 

You fidgeted with the seatbelt, the press of it against your chest not strong enough to stabilize the rhythm of your heartbeat. You were in his truck, meaning you’d be alone with him for the next several minutes. It was enough to force a roll of nausea through your stomach. Leaning your head against the window, you watched him reemerge from the bar with Tommy in tow. There was a clear expression of annoyance etched on Tommy’s face, all at the cost of your own stubbornness. 

Joel tossed him the keys to your car before rounding the truck's hood and climbing into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, so you kept your eyes on the road as it blurred past with each passing mile. 

“Where do you live?” he asked, passing through another vacant green light. 

You rambled off your address, still keeping your gaze steady on the streetlights as they passed by your window. He didn’t attempt to make small talk after that, and the silence settled onto you like a heavy blanket. Your control of consciousness was slipping the longer you sat beside him, but you willed yourself awake. The streets started to become familiar, and you shifted in your seat. Taking a risk, you looked at Joel, finding him white-knuckling the wheel with his jaw clenched. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I—I don’t go out and drink normally. I should have just stayed home tonight.”

“S’okay,” he said, glancing at you. “Just don’t get why you’re so stubborn about askin’ for help. First at the supermarket and now at the bar. I don’t get it.”

A rush of tears stung your eyes, and you quickly looked away, trying to blink them back before he noticed. Joel’s hand fell onto your thigh, sending a jolt of shock through your body. You wanted to shy away from it, but there was no use in fighting at this point; you were already failing miserably. 

“Hey,” he prodded. “Shit, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, alright?”

You swiped away the tears running from your eyes, schooling your emotions back into a state of numbness. Your little blue house came into view, and you pointed a tired finger toward it to guide him in the right direction. 

“This is me,” you sniffled. 

“Big ol’ house, Miss Smith. Y’live here alone?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Miller.”

“I really wish you’d stop callin’ me that,” he sighed, parking his car at your home's fence.

“It’s all formalities.”

“Yeah, I know. I just think after tonight, we’re far past all them formalities and shit.”

Your hand lingered on the door handle as you took one last look at him. Joel’s eyes looked over you with a softness you didn’t deserve. You deserve to be happy. Maria’s words rang out in your head the longer you stared at him. ‘Happy’ was a foreign word to you now, out of reach and out of your control.

“Can I just know one thing?” He asked. 

You nodded, your fingers wrapped around the door handle.

“What’s your name?”

Blame the alcohol…blame your vulnerability…but you told him.

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

A couple of requests

"And this is our red witch?"

You were yanked out of your ordinary environment. You were yanked out of your house. And where were you teleported exactly?

Crawling out of fire was never a pleasant experience.

"Agatha!…" Fuck, you were getting angry. "Agatha!…" You could feel fireball forming in your palm.

"Hey! Is Harkness the only one who deserves your attention?"

You turned around as quickly as you could. That voice was familiar. That tone was close.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Out of the trees silhouette emerged. not even a second, a fleeting instant - you recognized her immediately.

"You've got something on your shoulder." Shoulder, really Rio? You shrugged, too close to your neck.

"Don't."

Oh, you didn't sound confident, Rio noticed. Rio smirked. Of course she did. Centuries you were apart and she still could read you like an open book.

____

"Did you miss me?"

You almost jumped. You forgot whether it was voice of your nightmares or dreams.

Well, the voice sure was as sultry as you remembered it to be. Not only that. You remembered all too well her obsession with a very specific silhouette, with open skin, with accent on her arms.

Rio knew you were looking at her. You were thinking about her.

You tried to keep your eyes focused on her. But it didn't work. Suddenly you stopped.

"Why are you here?"

You didn't allow Rio to get closer. Golden was your protective halo.

"Because of you." Rio was always straightforward. Even after all these years. "Not that easy to track you down. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the affort with the cover and protective spells. Clearly you were thinking about me, baby. Just not in a way I want it."

___

"I'm fine."

Of course, you were not. Your clothes was wet with your own blood. Shard of glass was bigger than you thought. And sharper, clearly sharper.

"I could…"

"Jen, I'm fine."

You let others move faster, you let them out of your sight. Potions were not good enough in this situation. You couldn't heal yourself, the only other option was… no, it wasn't an option.

You couldn't focus on the road. Pain was too much, tension was too much, moving was too much. Your own body wasfinally betraying you. You groaned.

"I definitely like this sound. But not in this circumstances."

Rio appeared just in time to help you keep the balance.

"I'm fine."

You were not strong enough to fight her hands on you.

"Yeah, I already heard that."

You leaned against Rio's shoulder. You didn't want to owe her anything. You were close, dangerously close.

Not now, not after everything. You were losing yourself on the road. You almost closed your eyes.

It was enough for her to barely wave a hand. Wound disappeared in an instant. You inhaled sharply and immediately pushed Rio away.

"You shouldn't have done that." Your whisper hit her harder than any trial. "It doesn't change anything."

"I know."

___

This coven was the worst thing you could imagine. Lunatics, has beens, humans, teens. But the worst thing - your ex-lover. You forgot at what point fucking death was a good idea.

Of course you were flooded with memories, with emotions, with tingling in your body. Fuck. You hated it here. Road was never even supposed to exist. You were not sure what spell chose you, but sure as hell Rio influenced it.

"We need to move quicker. Do you understand the meaning of this word." Agatha's voice was annoying as ever. You praised gods for living without her disturbance for so many years. Nothing was fine, while Harkness was around.

"Thief." You muttered. "What did you say, dear?" Lilia was close. Semblance of a companion at least. You bond appeared such a long time ago. "Nothing". You caught Rio's glance. Thief would be a too generous word for Death.

___

All the walking, all the fighting, all the arguing. Those witches were everything but the coven. Still rest andfire were universally accepted. Stories of the old glory were never part of your routine. You needed a practice of protections spells, you needed to think.

The last thing you wanted was to be a part of the old memory between women who hated each other. You tried to change path, but everything was too loud, as if the road itself amplified the voices.

"You took him!"

You've never heard Agatha like this. You yourself caused many cries of agony, but this one was different.

"He was never even yours." how did Rio manage to stay calm and distant?

"He was always mine, I created him."

"You cheated. And you know you cannot cheat me."

That was true. You were cursed while trying to do exactly that, while trying to live a life of pretended normalcy.

___

Of course you knew about history between Agatha and Rio. You were jealous at first. Even of the memory of them together.

But Rio managed to calm you down. You met ages after that affair. There was no reason for you not to believe she was yours. After the fight with Agatha something changed. Rio wasn't with you anymore. On her own she was wondering the woods,for brief moments appearing during vital moments.

You knew this Rio once, not for long.

"You're letting Agatha have all the fun." You didn't have to cheer her up. But… you cared. And it was betternot to upset death itself.

"More fun for her, more bodies for me. It always worked that way."

"Even with Nicholas."

Silence was awkward and not welcomed. You sat near her.

"You were the only one who refused this deal."

"And still you stayed."

Painfully soft. Painfully obvious. Painfully full of affection.

"It wasn't enough, was it?"

"It was always too much."

Of course, it was. It was Rio, all about Rio. Even now she wanted to grab you, to possess, to devour. You could practically feel the struggle in her mind. But she chose to be tender.

[bluetooththereptile]

Black Robin

(Yandere Tim drake x twin brother reader x yandere Bruce Wayne)

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Note: I couldn't resist making this, Tim's personality and also Bruce's possessiveness to his adoptive children and sometimes his cold indifference are ripe for making agnst and a good fic!

Summary: Your stubbornness ends tonight, and Bruce will make sure of that.

Tw: mentions of abuse

"Are you out of your mind?!"  you were taken aback by Tim's shout, your eyes widening behind your mask slightly. The always composed and nervous Tim was now yelling at you, well, this was new. You shifted on your feet in the dark place, sighing as you crossed your arms on your chest, trying to not groan since the bruise on your chest hurt to the touch. "Please just spare these words" you grunted, but your response only made Tim more livid, and he took a hold of your jacket, pulling you closer to him "You will come home with me!" He hissed "And that's final!"

You pushed Tim away with a scoff "Woha...easy right there bro, slow down, I'm not coming back, not after finally finding the place I deserve!" Tim couldn't help but let out a forced bitter chuckle "Deserve? Look at you! You're all bruised and battered, wearing a cheap leather jacket and military pants, and your only gadget is probably comms, you are dragging yourself around without proper care and you call it a deserving place?! Is your hatred for me that strong?"

You rolled your eyes, groaning, dear God how many of these conversations you've had already with him? Probably close to a thousand times. "Look, bro, I'm an adult, I can make my own decisions-" "Don't bro me!" Tim's voice echoed in the dark empty alleyway, after the joint mission of Batman and Midnighter, Tim finally after a whole year of not facing you had dragged you away so you could talk.

"I could understand your frustration and anger, I could have tried to make things right, I knew you were by the fact that you were not chosen as the Robin, I can understand that you didn't get enough attention and you wanted to be a hero yourself, but you couldn't leave just like that!" Pushing Tim away from you, you finally snapped "Wait a damn minute!" You took your mask off so you could talk to him properly. Approaching him you looked deep into his eyes, looking at your reflection in them and Tim winced a little at the hint of smoke on your lips, his brows furrowing as he realized what you had been smoking before the mission. You then sighed and looked away, looking down at the puddle of water on the ground. Damn, you were indeed bruised up, you were still a rookie and the hero responsible for you, Midnighter truthfully didn't have many rules for you to follow, just do the things and get them done by any means necessary, I don't care, which meant you had to do everything yourself, ending up as an official mess. In the past year, you had strained yourself so much that you couldn't recognize yourself in the mirror anymore.

Sure you were Tim's identical twin, you looked nearly the same, minus the eyes of course, but you had changed from that, your body had bulked up under the pressure of constant training under Midnighter's eyes and the diet of protein bars, you didn't have time to eat so you had to resort to those, you had forgotten the taste of normal food, yet you refused to complain. The only reason that Midnighter had taken you in was your stubbornness and willpower, no one wanted to take Batman's boy in when the old bat didn't like the idea of it, you had to prove him you were worth taking in. You had to cut your hair short to cut out the water bills, oh right, he didn't pay for you either, you had to work your ass off to make some money for yourself, you just hated working at fast food joints, sometimes you wanted to serve some Karens some of those knuckle sandwiches Midnighter gave you when you messed up. Around your eyes were still smudged with the smoky eye makeup your new friends had put on you for last night's concert, personal hygiene was sort of out of the window for you, but you still kept pushing. You were a mess, but still an independent mess out of Tim's shadow.

"I chose this path and I'm happy with it! It's none of your business anymore!" You finally spoke, "Oh so all of a sudden when you are 18 you can do whatever the hell you want?" Tim sighed as he crossed his arms "Yeah?" You answered, "We both know Bruce had only let you go just to make you realize your place is with the family!" Tim's response wasn't that farfetched, you knew Bruce was capable enough to drag your sulking ass back to the Manor but he had chosen not to, why? You weren't sure, perhaps it was because he wanted to punish you for being too rebellious, the thought made you shudder.

"Whatever..." you waved your hand in the air "You know that I don't want to go back from this path" Tim scoffed "Oh? Being the "Black Robin" is that good?" He teased you about your name, making you let out a soft groan in irritation. Midnighter was mistaken as Batman and now you, as his sidekick, was the black Robin, another mistaken identity, well you did look like Tim, just larger in muscle mass. "Yes, it's better than being compared to you all the time!" You snapped at your twin, making his lips turn into a frown. You had hit a nerve, well it was progress.

"You were always the one that was better, you were the Robin and then the Red Robin, while I had to train harder and harder, watching you get all the attention while I was just there!" You continued "You know it's not true, Bruce adopted you as well, you are still his son! You were not chosen as Robin because he wanted someone more...smart..." You rolled your eyes at that, you had heard all of those excuses so many times, you wanted something more out of your life, and you had decided to get something out of it one way or another.

When Tim was adopted you had dragged along him, but since Bruce needed help, he examined you both but he found Tim more fitting for the role. At first, you were happy for your brother, but as time progressed on, that feeling turned into resentment, Tim was the nervous smart brother, always getting the attention of others, especially Bruce, while you pushed yourself to your limits, yet since you were more capable than your brother, Bruce thought of you more of a pillar of trust for Tim while he wasn't there, but you wanted more, you wanted his attention, his fucking love, you wanted to feel like a true son, so if he didn't want to pay you attention, you'd rebel, and you did it on your 18th birthday, and your life had become a hellish arena after that, but you still kept pushing, unknowingly digging your own grave.

Your bickering with Tim was interrupted by a loud bang, and before you could react Midnighter had been thrown over two buildings, his landing making a hole into the wall close to you and your twin. Who... who had done that?! Who could do that to the superhuman clad in black? Oh no...The soft thud onto the ground and that familiar presence...oh no no no no...it was the big bat himself.

"Shit," you and Tim said in union "language" Bruce's stern voice made you clamp your lips close, you hadn't seen him like that before, his gaze burying deep into your wide eyes as he approached you with that imposing figure. "Black Robin" your hero's name rolled onto his tongue with a dark tone. "How fitting" he continued before he suddenly reached out and grabbed you by your jaws, making your mouth open.

You were too afraid to talk, you knew he wouldn't listen even if you wanted to talk "Three teeth..." Bruce hummed, before tightening his grip, making you let out a soft groan of pain "Cracked jaw..." he added "Muscle tissue of your left eyelid is hurt, your ear is broken and this is just for the head..." he hissed "I had warned him before to not touch any of my boys..." he let go of you but his hand moved to take a hold of your jacket as he looked down at you.

"Malnourished and still high on drugs, what was he thinking?!" He growled before looking up at you again, he leaned closer as he took a sniff of you, his grip tightening even more "And you've been smoking...it's the same brand as he does..."

"B-bat-" "Silence..." Bruce snapped at you, "Being mistaken for me is one thing I can sort of tolerate, but stealing my boy from me is something I can not overlook...look at you Y/N!..." he pulled you closer to him "You are on the path of self-destruction! You are no superhuman, you are a young one in need of care!" Your throat dried up as he spoke, you knew the consequences of your actions were creeping to get closer to you.

Bruce's heart ached at your sight, he shouldn't have let you go, he had thought no one would take you in and within a month you'd be back into his arms, begging for forgiveness and he'd punish you lightly. You reminded him so much of himself, that was why he didn't want you to get into the world of heroes, yet his worst nightmare had happened and you had plunged into the worst scenario head first like a mad bull.

"You're coming home with us" Bruce's words were final as he took you in "H-hey!" You wanted to pull away but his hold was too strong, he didn't bat an eye at your struggles "You need stitches and a new set of teeth, and when you are ready enough, I'll whip you into the right shape of the Black Robin..." his last words made your shudder in fear, he was angry, but deep down, a small part of you was happy that your dad had finally come for you.

You were strapped into the Batmobile and Tim sat close to you, holding onto your arm tightly, you felt something tug on your heart, that look in his eyes, you knew that too well, you were just minutes older than him but he still looked up at you as his older brother, perhaps you'd reconsider your decision and give in...perhaps...only time could tell. 

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

Chocolate-Coated Confessions

Pairing: Kakashi x f!Reader

Summary: Kakashi's been jealously hating on Valentine's Day for a very long while, but he's pushed over the edge when you suggest you might be spending the night with someone else.

W/c: 1.5k

Warnings: Fluff, just jealousy really

Notes: he's down bad, lmk if this sucks <3

Masterlist💿

Valentine's day had never been Kakashi's favourite holiday. To him, it was a day filled with superficial displays of affection, a spectacle for those who mistook infatuation for love. Nobody in love would ever put on such a show, Kakashi reckoned as he strolled down the street to the market. As he walked, he let his eyes drift past the loving couples, holding flower bouquets and boxes of chocolates, alight with temporary delight. He couldn't help but wonder if anyone ever truly felt the emotions they so desperately attempted to display.

In his time at the Academy, a plethora of cards would be found on Kakashi's desk at the start of the day. He would always look through them casually, hoping to see your gorgeous scrawl on one of them. But he never did. As a Genin, and into his Chunin years, the girls moved from handmade cards to tiny candies and strange tokens. He'd accept the things, but usually just throw it all out by the night - he'd keep a few chocolates, just to comfort him. Kakashi didn't want their gifts, he wanted just a sliver of your attention. But he never got it, with you only holding conversation with him when he would instigate it.

You never made him a card, you never gave him a sweet - but you were the first to wish him a happy birthday since his fifth. Surely, that had to be some kind of love, right?

Kakashi trudged on, down the street, and into the fruit market. Once he stepped through the doors, Kakashi's eyes clapped onto you. Your back was turned, but he could recognize you anywhere. A picture of casual elegance, the sight of you made Kakashi's heart ache with a mixture of longing and resignation. You were so beautiful, and just destined to be his - but you didn't want him, not as anything more than a friend.

"Oh," you said, turning around to see Kakashi a few meters from you. Your smile was like a ray of sunshine, and as you approached, the subtle fragrance of your perfume enveloped him. "Hi, Kakashi. Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Isn't it just," Kakashi murmured shortly, though his thoughts were racing. "I thought you did your shopping on Thursdays."

"Just like you." The gentle laugh in your tone sent a vibration through Kakashi's body, electrifying him.

In defense, he replied, "I felt like cutting up a pineapple today, but I have no pineapple to cut."

"Don't do it," you said a little too quickly. Kakashi's eyebrows furrowed as he chuckled, amused at the slightly panicked expression that flitted across your face.

"Why not?"

"Er...because...well, just don't, okay? Trust me."

"Okay," he hummed, looking at the top of a pineapple sticking out of the bag in your arm. Curiousity piqued, he asked, "What's in the bag?"

"Not yet, Nosey Rosey," you quipped, skirting past Kakashi with a brush of your hip against his. Despite the confusion, Kakashi found himself smiling down at you as the sun caught your hair so beautifully.

Yet. He would get to find out eventually, to some capacity. It was a small win, but a win for Kakashi, none-the-less.

"I've got to go, there's a lot of work I still have to for today." Like always, you shied away from Kakashi just when you seemed to be opening up. "I'll see you later, Hatake."

Before he could respond, you turned and left the fruit market, going in the direction of your apartment complex. His words died on his lips as he watched you leave him, to go do work for today. Today. Valentine's Day.

What did you mean? Did you have a valentine? Were you making something for them? Who? Who deserved your love and how could Kakashi prove to you that he was more deserving?

Getting a couple of mangos instead, still craving pineapple, Kakashi kept your command in mind. He left the fruit market and had the mangos back in his apartment, where he read for a long few hours.

The day seemed to melt away, only eating away at Kakashi's beating heart - he didn't want to spend Valentine's Day alone anymore, and he certainly didn't want you spending it with anyone else.

It was time for action. Kakashi didn't care if he would be interrupting your hot date - in fact, he hoped he would be.

Springing from his bed around the stroke of five, Kakashi left his apartment for the confectionary a couple blocks away, getting a kilo of chocolate almonds, before heading to Yamanka Flowers. There, Kakashi bought the most expensive bouquet in the store, ignoring Ino when the little girl inquired about Kakashi's big date. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but he certainly wasn't going to dash the idea.

As he dashed around the Hidden Leaf, Kakashi thought about what to say to you. It was all situation dependant, he came to realize - and, eventually, Kakashi figured he would have to let his heart speak for him, for once.

After dragging his feet, still deeply in thought, closer to the hour of six, Kakashi slowly made his way to your apartment complex. Battling with his internal monologue, he ascended the stairs, and went straight to Unit 36. He had walked you to your door a few times, but you had never invited him in.

His breath was shaking, and the items felt heavier than bricks in his arms, but Kakashi was determined. He wanted you so badly, and he needed you even worse.

Smelling a dark but sweet scent coming from under your door, he rapped upon the wood three times. Kakashi could hear a bang, then a small shout, before the lock clicked and the door swung open, revealing you, as gorgeous as Kakashi had ever seen you.

Your hair was tied up messily, in disarray from the obvious culinary tasks you had taken on. A pastel pink apron hung from your neck, synching your waist, with white frills bordering the fabric. Chocolate was smeared on the front, in thin, abstract lines. The same chocolate was on your arms and hands, even a smudge having made it onto your cheek.

Kakashi took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on," he began, voice trembling slightly. Your smile widened as you leaned on the door, opening it wider for him. Gathering every shred of courage he had, Kakashi continued, "For years... all I have been able to think about is you, morning, noon, and night. Your face, your voice... they bring me comfort like nothing else."

He paused, collecting his breath and searching for any sign of what you were feeling, but something compelled him to go on before you could reject him.

"I've tried to ignore it, tried to move on, but I can't. You have a hold on my heart that I can't break. I...I need you to know...I love you." With a sharpness, you inhaled, and Kakashi sighed, "I love you more than words can describe... and it hurts to not know how you feel about me."

Breathing deeply from his monologue, Kakashi felt as though a weight was lifted from his shoulders. Even if you denied him, even if you told him your heart was for another, Kakashi would be okay, because, at least, now, you knew.

A beat of quiet passed through your apartment corridor as your eyes sparkled in the luminescent lighting. Then you simply giggled, "Do you still fancy a pineapple?"

Blinking rapidly, Kakashi asked, "What-?"

"C'mon, Lover Boy," you teased, motioning into your apartment with a smile that seemed to light up the room. "You don't know how much easier you've made things."

Still in a state of confusion, Kakashi wasn't going to turn down the invitation. He stepped into your apartment, taking in the large window and your twenty-some paintings that lined the walls. Snapping his attention back to you, Kakashi presented the bouquet and you took it up, holding the flowers close to your nose as you inhaled.

"I hope you don't think my thing is lame," you sighed, looking between the flowers and the bag of chocolate covered almonds that still resided in Kakashi's hand. "I didn't spend half as much money as you did."

"You...got me something?"

Brightly, you nodded with a deepened smile. "Yeah- well, no...kinda." You started walking toward the other room in the small apartment. "Come to the kitchen, I'll show you."

As he walked through your apartment, he took in all your little knick-knacks and chachkies. Everything in the room screamed about various corners of your personality, corners that Kakashi hoped to one day know like the back of his hand.

The kitchen was very white - white cabinets, white counters, white cupboards, white fridge, white backsplash, white oven. All white, except for a smattering of brown mess, all over two pots and the stove and the baking sheets that sat beside. You walked over nervously and motioned for Kakashi to do the same. As he got closer, he could decern chunks of various fruits and strawberries sat on the baking sheets, covered in chocolate.

"You...did this?" Kakashi asked, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief as he took in the array of chocolate-covered fruits. You nodded, eyes shining with anticipation. "For me?"

"All for you, Kakashi. Only for you."

You didn't know just how much Kakashi had prayed to hear those words come from your mouth. It was like he was dreaming, being given everything he ever wanted, and he grew anxious that it was.

Driven by a sudden surge of courage, Kakashi stepped forward and gently pressed his lips to yours. An electric jolt coursed through him as your hands instinctively cradled his cheek and the back of his neck. You melted into his embrace as he brought you close, fitting perfectly against him. Kakashi knew then that this was no dream; he was wide awake and finally living the reality he had longed for.

He also knew that he had to reevaluate Valentine's Day.

[darcytaylor]

Nicola’s message is a reality check that everyone should listen to. We can - and need to - do better. (Harper Bazaar Woman of the Year Awards)

For a while now, I’ve been saying here on my blog: speculation is not fact. We don’t - and never will - know the ins and outs of anyone’s private life, especially when it comes to someone like Nicola Coughlan. Yet so many people see her holding hands with someone and jump to conclusions, acting like they’re gospel truth. Can we please take a moment to think about why holding hands with a guy is somehow “evidence” of a relationship, but when she holds hands with female friends, no one bats an eye? (and no this is not where I want you to go into detail about all of your reasonings why she is dating someone, the point is WE DON'T KNOW - because we don't actually know her! And if someone says otherwise, they are lying!)

Even if Nicola is in a relationship, let’s remember that we don’t actually know anything about it, which is exactly how it should be. And for those hinting about pregnancy, even if they’re trying to be subtle with terms like “delicate position” - it’s beyond invasive, and it’s honestly FUCKED UP! People know exactly what you're suggesting, and Nicola called that behaviour out directly in her speech. If you’re focusing on her body rather than her work, you’re part of the problem. (You can read my pinned post where I go into more detail why speculating on pregnancy is fucked)

If Nicola doesn't like the way the media is portraying her, it's unlikely she would appreciate fans doing the same thing. Sometimes, people try to justify their actions by separating the media from fan behaviour, but the impact on her is the same. We need to remember that our assumptions, even if you think they are innocent, can be damaging.

What fans talk about often drives what the media focuses on, because they’re chasing clicks. If people weren’t feeding into it, the media wouldn’t have as much to go off.

What the fans talk about and what the media produces, go hand-in-hand, and ignoring that is a big part of the problem. Trying to justify it doesn’t change the fact that it can still affect Nicola - especially if she’s made it clear she’s uncomfortable and hates these narratives.

Nicola’s speech was a call out to reconsider how people engage with her personal life. I know I’ve been working on doing better, and I think everyone else in this fandom could stand to do the same. Instead of spinning theories about her relationships or appearance, maybe we could all step back, respect her boundaries, and celebrate her for what she wants to be recognized for: her achievements and her talent. Let's try not to make her whole personality about a guy.

Nicola took a stand on the insane focus on things like her relationship status, age, or dress size - topics that constantly overshadow her career and accomplishments. You can tell it's exhausting for her to be boxed into these labels, and she deserves better.

One of the best parts of her speech last night, for me, was when she praised her longtime inspiration, Victoria Beckham, who was right there in the audience. Nicola talked about how much Victoria meant to her growing up, especially for how she handled herself through nonstop scrutiny. Both women have had to deal with some of the same pressures -where fans and the media feel entitled to critique and dissect every aspect of their lives.

Nicola made it clear she’s tired of being defined by these things. People are more interested in latching onto rumours about her relationship status (even though we have zero confirmation of who she’s dating) or making guesses about her body, including potential pregnancy, all because of how she looks on any given day. This rush to define her identity based on whether she’s seen with someone or holding hands? It’s reductive and invasive.

Honestly, Nicola’s message is a reality check that everyone should listen to. We can - and need to - do better.

To the bigger creators: you especially have to do better because I can see some of you fuelling everything that Nicola hates. (I actually don’t think it’s the people who ship Luke and Nicola because that is part of her job, that is part of Bridgerton and her work, it’s a testament to how good of a job both her and Luke did, Nicola understands that). But the people who are shipping her with people outside of her work? DO BETTER!

And yes, I am also putting myself in the category of doing better. I think it’s imperative to look at past behaviours and strive to do better and be better.

EDIT: THIS PICTURE IS GORGEOUS! The flowers, the lighting, the vibe. It's perfect!

[coyote-with-a-keyboard]

flashback (1/?)

a/n: not any of my old drafts or ideas, but hey! A post is a post.

warnings: breath play, rough sex, kinda public? In a unlocked but empty meeting room- Minors DNI

Normal day,  normal meetings, normal plans and a normal god damn week, that was your plans. You had had enough extra weight to carry for once, so dragging yourself to your last meeting felt like the last step on the stairs to heaven. That was until you opened the door.

Fuck. you hadn’t seen graves in an long time, but those sharp blue eyes were burned in your brain too much to forget- you two grew up together, thick as thieves and close as can be. Teetering on the edge of being more until he got bored and left- it’s not like the town you two grew up in would have been very pleased to find the only two kids of “promise” hooking up anyhow. But that little sharp stab of being left stills felt like a thorn at your side.

It was quite clear he recognized you too. How he got a bit shakier, a bit softer, a bit… guilty looking. More guilty then he looked on that film of him lying at the court, at least. The meeting droned on like ringing in your ears- not hearing a single word and just letting your mind reel. You wanted him, you wanted him to pay too- but two birds can always be hit with one stone cant they?

The meeting filed out eventually, people leaving with their desktops and slides until it was just him and you, the urge to shove him overwhelming until… snap. Pushing him up against the wall and kissing him hard; teeth, bites, blood and a want that had sat so long it had gone sour. Not that graves was complaining when he felt you cage around him, or how suddenly tight everything felt on him. The only thing grounding him was your hand snaking around his throat and the burning feeling of needing to catch his breath.

He couldn’t hear the growl of your voice in his ear over his own heart, but he could tell you were cursing him out- he deserved it, he lamented about it, so he might as well get punished like this. He only put his attention on you. Your smell, your cologne, your feeling. How rough the wall against his back was, how the hand wrapped around his throat was making him uncomfortable in the only way he ever wanted.

All he could do is sit and bask in the warmth as he felt you tug down his belt and pants, as well as his boxers, letting it pool at his legs when you spit on the two fingers of your free hands to at least give him a bit of prep, sure you had hated him and let that hate boil and rot for years- but it turns out he was still the boy you loved when it really got down to that nitty-gritty. 

He whined and whimpered softly as your fingers grazed over his walls, his hole fluttering around the feeling. His brain was starting to fell all fuzzy eyed and with fast shallow breaths to follow with the feeling of your grip on him loosen a bit to line your member up with him after making sure he could at least take you safely and tugging down your overused suit pants. 

His pretty hole felt like a damn vice around you, his body shaking a bit with every rough and out of rhythm thrust you gave him. It didn’t matter to him. He just wanted you. And he wanted you bad.

He tried to jerk himself off to the pace of your thrusts, having to guess and constantly jolting when he felt you slam or buck into him or bite his shoulder, felt like he could feel it in his throat. He eventually came with a loud whine before panting to catch his breath, his hair starting to stick to his forehead as you painted his insides white and left him to clean himself up without another glance.

That’s exactly what you needed today- suddenly the world felt an awful lot better. But to graves he felt a little nagging jealousy that he couldn’t get you permanently, not for real, not for love- not now at least. This was a start, he supposed. He wanted to see you smile again- god he missed that smile more then he missed anything in the world.

[morganas-pendragons]

All My Love | Twelfth Doctor

@pompeiianbollockr

Set during the blindness arc in Season 10 because I love me some vulnerable Doctor. I don't care if it's not in Twelve's character. He gets to be vulnerable because I SAID so :D

He hasn't spoken to you since before you landed on the space station. In fact, it's been nearly a week. It's been nearly a week since The Doctor allowed himself to kiss you. To touch you.

And possibly the most devastating part.. to see you.

Self sacrificial. That was one of the best words you'd ever used to describe him in the time you'd known this face. This face. With all its quirks, and all the things he hates about it: The attack eyebrows, the lines, the wrinkles and the age... Despite all the things he'd hated about this face, the one thing he'd learned from traveling with you is that the faces didn't matter.

He truly believed you loved him for him. You knew it. He knew it. This, though... This was something he wasn't sure he was going to come back from. The Doctor had spent centuries gallivanting across the universe, running further and faster from home because he couldn't dare look back, with promises of adventures on his lips and desperation for escape in his heart.

"Tell me... am I a good man?"

You scooted closer to where he was sitting on the stairs and tentatively rose your hand to graze your fingertips across his temple and card through those unruly silver curls. He shivered at the sensation and forced his eyes open to meet yours as you leaned in to whisper in his ear, "The best man I will ever know."

He hasn't forgotten the feeling of your lips meeting the skin under his ear. Or the first time he'd kissed you of his own accord. Or the first time you'd marked him in the dead of night in his bedroom, where your lips had branded his skin. The way he'd linked your fingers together on either side of your head.

The sound of your voice calling his name. The sound of your voice in general, so soft and sweet and good...

That is something he clings to so tightly now. All the memories of the past - mere years for you, millions of years for him - that had opened his eyes to the truth: Despite all his misgivings and all his failures, he too was someone deemed worthy of loving.

You had brought a light into his life that The Doctor had not realized he'd been so deprived of. It was the light of humanity, of hope, of a heart far too big for this universe that nobody would ever thank you for. You deserved so much better than him.

And yet, you didn't want better.

You only wanted him.

He can't figure out why he's so... sad. There's an empty hole in his hearts and his mind where someone used to be, where the memory and the love of someone he cared for used to occupy, and the realization he cannot place who they are is angering him.

The Doctor has always been vengeful. The Oncoming Storm, The Valeyard, Timelord Victorious. He has rage written into the very essence of his bones and a desire to protect and save people in a way no one had ever saved him from himself.

"Hey you," You dragged your fingers across his shoulder blades as you came to sit beside him in the open doorway of the TARDIS. "Where did you go?"

That was one of the things he'd first recognized he loved about you. Despite this body having difficulties with physical affection and intimacy, he'd learned how to communicate with body language and gazes. Absent looks. Looks of adoration. Affection. Longing. That was all it took.

And you still read him like a book.

"Something's missing," He lightly knocked on his temple as you reached out and took his hand in your own. The Doctor let you. It was like he could feel the sunlight and warmth seeping from you into him. The light overwhelming the dark. "In here. There's someone who's supposed to be in here with the rest of them. I don't remember."

You did. You did, and Clara had made you promise before she flew away that you would never help him remember. That you would help him carry the weight.

"Maybe you're not supposed to. We're all stories in the end," You whisper. The Doctor softened as he lifted your hand to his lips and tentatively brushed them against your knuckles. "And maybe some of those stories become songs. Whispers of melodies and lines that hold the things we cannot remember."

All of his memories are composed in a form of music: Lines upon lines of melancholic notes in the minor key that is his endless life, with crescendos of bright notes meant to convey the optimism and light brought by the companions who travel alongside him.

And when they leave, the decrescendo extends over what feels like years, softening to a singular note that eases into silence.

Him, alone, on his own battlefield. That's how he feels right now. Battling the recognition that he may never be able to bask in the light again. That he may always be victim to the darkness.

So The Doctor lets the darkness win. He distances himself from you because it's better to face the darkness alone.

However, you are not willing to let him.

***

You know him. You know him better then you know yourself, and you have known him long enough to know his tells when it comes to how he keeps his secrets. How he lets himself lie. You are the only person who is able to truly see The Doctor.

You would be lying if you said you weren't hurt by his sudden distance. He hadn't done this since he'd recently regenerated. When he'd been resentful of his new body, of the world, and of who he was now.

You had lost count of all of the times that you had followed the sound of grief and heartache and despair into the darkness of his bedroom. All the times he'd turned you away. All the times he'd left you out in the cold of the TARDIS hallways.

All the times he'd finally given in and allowed himself to be held.

You'd been longing to do that again. To be the one being held, to be reminded that he did indeed still love you. The Doctor always went on about having ''a duty of care'' for you and for Bill.

Did your self hatred overwhelm your duty of care, Doctor? Did the coward finally win?

When Bill and Nardole had disappeared, you had stayed behind with The Doctor when he'd attempted to read the Veritas. You had been right around the corner when you were alarmed by the sound of pained groaning coming from within the cage.

"Cardinal, it worked. I can see. Not well enough. Not yet."

Dread bubbled low in your stomach as you approached the cage from behind. Hadn't his blindness been cured? What was he talking about?

"Think about the universes. Whatever you need, you can always borrow." He blinked heavily. Once, twice, three times to try and clear the haze from over his eyes. You were standing just outside of his peripheral vision. He wouldn't be able to tell you were there. And after shutting you out, after days of nothing.. This upset you. This hurt. "As long as you pay it back. I just borrowed from my future. I get a few minutes of proper eyesight, but I lose something. Maybe all my future regenerations will be blind. Maybe I won't regenerate ever again. Maybe I'll drop dead in twenty minutes, but... I will be able to read this."

He slammed his hand on top of the Veritas. You weren't paying attention anymore. The next thing you knew, the lights were going out, and you were running to keep up with him even though he did not know you were there.

You tried not to let your hurt show. Or for him to hear it in your voice.

That would come later.

***

When all was said and done, you found him in the console room. He was still adjusting to learning how to identify when people were approaching based off of his other senses. It took The Doctor a moment to recognize the sound of footsteps approaching, but he did turn from his seat on the pilot's chair nearest to the console to where he thought you were standing.

He also didn't know that you were very aware he was still blind.

"Darling? Is that you? You should know that I always know it's you. Don't be coy."

"I'm mad at you."

His brow rose at that. "And why would that be?"

You walked forward to stand in the natural part of his legs. "For all of the times you have dragged me across the universe," You begin, swallowing your fear as you take both his hands and settle them on your hips while you settle in his lap. "For all the times I have had with you, the years I have known you. I never thought you'd be this thick."

The Doctor snorted. Did you not know this face? He was ridiculously thick headed.

"You should know by now that I am extremely thick," He argued, allowing his fingers to drift under the fabric of your cotton shirt and drum lightly against your hips. "Thick headed and arrogant and a selfish old man."

"An old man who forgot the first promise we ever made." You have yet to touch him. To properly touch him. ''Tell me. When did you forget?"

He struggled to keep hold of those memories. The early ones. When one has an infinite life, you do your best to hold onto what is precious.

"You can't." The Doctor had declared. It had been mere weeks since he'd regenerated, and he was so unsure, so scared. He did a remarkable job of hiding it. "You can't love me."

It was also the first time you'd properly been able to communicate how you felt to him. Eleven had called you, desperate and longing and begging you to understand, to remember that he's still The Doctor despite having a different face.

You had never had the courage to tell his younger face that you loved him. When Eleven had helped you to recognize the fear underneath that worn, aged face, you'd walked right back into the TARDIS and declared it with all the courage of a soldier facing a battlefield alone.

"I do love you. I have loved you. It took a while for me to recognize it, but I do. It's not a lie. It's not a trick or deception. It's me." You took your hand and placed it on his chest. He winced, though briefly, because this body was not quite ready to accept more physical contact than that. "Being brave."

"Promise me then. No secrets. No tricks." He murmured. You took the opportunity to close the gap of space between you, keeping your hand in its place as his grey eyes met yours. You shivered as he brought his own hand up to cradle your jaw. Your lips parted on their own accord as his eyes flickered down to them before slowly dragging his gaze upward to meet your own. "Promise me that you will keep them safe."

"Them?"

"Those fragile, beating things you've held in your hands since we met. Tell me," His breath fanned across your face as he hesitantly leaned inward. "What does it feel like to hold a Timelords hearts?"

"I asked you to keep me safe," The Doctor remarked. "That's not your job. It was an unrealistic promise."

"You're forgetting the beginning of that promise," You finally leaned inward enough that The Doctor could feel the rise and fall of your chest, the warmth of your breath against his cheek. He froze as you lightly tapped his sonic glasses. "No secrets. Take them off."

He did not move for almost a minute and a half. The Doctor knew that he should've seen this coming. He should've known you were clever enough to figure him out.

He removed one hand from under your shirt and removed the glasses willingly. Your heart hammered painfully hard in your chest as you were greeted with the familiar grey of his eyes. This time, however, they were cloudy. They were almost... dark.

"It never went away. I just didn't know how to properly tell you." The Doctor shrugged. "You deserve better. It's as I've said. Selfish old man, traveling across the universe with his best-"

He paused as you pressed a fingertip to his lips. The Doctor hummed and kissed your finger, reveling in the feeling of warmth tracing his face reverently.

"I wish you'd just told me." You murmured. You pressed yourself closer, dragging his hand up your hip until his thumb was pressing hard enough against your skin to feel your heartbeat. "You know me better than this. I love you. You have all my love."

"Even without my sight?" He asked. "I can't... I can't see you. And it's devastating."

That was a peculiar way to describe it. "What could be devastating about that?"

"You really don't know, do you?" He replied. You took both of his hands and slowly lifted them to your face, setting his thumbs against the curve of your lips. "It's hard to come to terms with the darkness winning when you've learned to love the light."

Oh.

"You can't see me," You whisper. You shiver as he drags his fingers across your mouth slowly, allowing them to travel across your face. "But you can learn how to find the light again. Darkness isn't forever."

You spent what felt like hours in silence after that. The Doctor allowed himself to drink in the warmth for the first time in ages, humming as you allowed him to relearn your face. The shape of your eyes. The sweep of your nose, the curve of your lips, the texture of your hair under his fingers.

When he was done, your breath caught as he tangled his fingers in your hair and dragged your head back just enough to expose the slope of your neck. "My love," His voice rumbled deep in his chest. "Tell me, what does it feel like?"

It took you a moment to find your voice as he lowered his head to drag his teeth across your pulse point, followed by the warmth of his lips that elicited a shiver from deep within you. "What does.. What does what feel like, Doctor?"

The last thing he says is, "Being the light." Before he's capturing your lips with his own, and the light overcomes the darkness once again.

[beanghostprincess]

Silly vampire buggy being so very normal about it while the rest are absolutely FERAL is so funny.

Buggy, before Roger passed, still on the Oro: hmm, I'm kinda thirsty-

Shanks, ripping his already open shirt further off: Oh Dear, Oh My Look At ALL THIS So Very BITEABLE SKIN, Sure Hope There's No VAMPIRES Thirsting Near Me, Wink Wink!!!!

Buggy: I bet Gabban still has some juice boxes. I hope he has that guava one. I'll be right back!

Shanks, half naked and drooping: 🥺😟😥😫

<><><><><><><><><>

Mihawk: I read this interesting novel yesterday which gave me much to ponder.

Buggy: oh? Awesome! Which was it?

Mihawk, side-eying Buggy pointedly: it was a supernatural romance between a human and vampire. It was rather explicit and had many scenes which piqued my interest.

Buggy, absolutely Not Getting It: oh man. I usually hate those. It's a toss up between bad writing or the vampire is always a top. Like? Give me gay bottom vampires too, we deserve to be recognized!! Oh, Hawky, can you hand me my sunscreen?

Mihawk: ........... here.

Buggy: thanks, love!

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Crocodile: hey you drink blood.

Buggy, sipping A+ out of a care bear cup: yeah?

Croc: does it work on Logia users? Or would your fangs need Haki to pierce us?

Buggy: hm. Good question? I dunno, actually!

Crocodile: seems this could be a learning experience. Would be a shame to not experiment. I know how much you like your science.

Buggy: I do like science. Yeah. Yeah. You're right! I SHOULD experiment on that!!

Croc, unbuttoning his shirt, tugging down his cravat: uh huh, well, I suppose we ought to get to it- where are you going

Buggy: to my workshop! Science waits for no man!!! Nor clown, in my case. Man clown? Vampire? Who knows. Wait. Am I a man...? Hm, what is the gender today... wait, have I eaten at all? I don't remember. Anyway, I need to grab my suit, I'm low on sunscreen again. Oh, remind me to add that to the next shipment request. Oh, I should also grab a bloody mary!! That sounds great! Okay. Bye bye!!

Croc, halfway undressed, watching Buggy run outside, start swearing bc he didn't pull up his hood and is cursing the light, before tripping flat onto his face: ............. shit.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Buggy rarely pushes the limits of his abilities BECAUSE of the vampirism. If he uses his DF more than usual, it makes him hungrier. And once he hits a certain point, he begins to lose his already loosey-goosey sense of humanity. It scares him to be so cold and uninterested, especially since he always feels things turned up to eleven. When his hits that point, EVERYTHING turns off. At best, he'll be mildly annoyed, angry, amused - but it's like being in a glass bowl, watching things happen from the outside. It terrifies him.

His partners...? Well. It does things to them too, but terror isn't exactly the dominating feeling... 👀

((Also, the romanticism of blood. Of life energy. Of an exchange of that out of love. Of giving parts of yourself to sustain and satiate another. Carrying pieces of someone else in your body to propagate your own life. Of giving and taking consensually the liquid which carries your time. The inherent provocative nature of taking someone else's essence into yourself with full permission and full understanding because they receive so much from you in turn that it is simple, easy, logical to consent to this.))

Vampires 🥰

THE FIRST ONE IS SO REAL EFJKBWEJKBWJEKBF Shanks does that constantly he's DYING for Buggy to bite him and the clown won't even notice he's trying so much. It's ridiculous. Shanks and his failguy moment simping for a vampire that doesn't want his blood.

Mihawk and Crocodile trying to flirt and failing miserably because Buggy is always oblivious to what they do is amazing and no matter the AU it's always like this. I adore. They just want their vampire boyfriend to bite them :(( Failguys.

The last thing you said is so real. Vampires can be something so romantic and I think usually books/TV shows/Media in general don't focus on the important stuff. I want to see teen!Shuggy with Buggy and Shanks traveling together right after the crew disbands (before Roger's death) and Buggy not having access to other types of blood. So Shanks offers him his blood and they have like-- This moment of realization of how intimate it is. And Buggy will forever remember what it felt like to feel Shanks' embrace while sucking his blood without any complaints. And!! Both Mihawk and Crocodile wanting to do the same but it's definitely just for the horny, they don't expect it to be so passionate and intimate, and romantic.

Also, I agree with Buggy, the vampire should be the bottom. Really necessary for this situation.

[stevie-petey]

oh also,,, whenever you wanna write. chap 6 steve & robin pov blurb because i am so sure steve would be going on and on about bug once she left so my soul needs that thank you <3

im kicking myself idk why i didnt include this scene in the chapter like its PERFECT for what i have planned later but ,,, for now all i can do is make it a blurb n tell people to read it lmao

enjoy <3

"it didnt matter that you were an ass. i was still... obsessed with you." robins confession hangs in the air. her back is pressed against steves as they lay on the floor, bound together. his eye stings and his nose is numb and crusted with dried blood. he isnt sure why shes telling him this.

"even though all of us losers pretend to be above it all, we still just wanna be popular. accepted. normal."

the rope around steves wrists tense. he clenches his fists and bites the inside of his swollen cheek. acceptance. he thought he had that, once. when he was sixteen with a crowd of people who wouldve done anything for his attention.

now hes eighteen and the crowds bruises still tinge his body.

"if it makes you feel any better, having those things isnt all that great. seriously." it took him a long time to learn that. to recognize that his acceptance was merely a precedence. it wasnt real friendship. he wouldnt learn this until he met you, until you taught it to him. "it just baffles me. everything that people tell you is important, everything that people say you should care about, its all just... bullshit."

bullshit. nancy taught him that, too.

"its all just bullshit, it was so obviously bullshit. i was an idiot for not realizing it sooner," steve bites the inside of is cheek again. somehow, his lips remained untouched when he was being beaten by the russians. your lips still linger on his. "you know, the only person who saw through my bullshit was y/n. one day, before we knew about monsters and russian lairs, she said that she knew i wasnt a bad person. it... it stuck with me. here she was, y/n henderson, telling me i wasnt so bad."

"and then...?" robin is almost too afraid to press him further. shes never seen him like this, vulnerable and open. she didnt know that his history with you went beyond just a summer fling.

steve nudges his head back and sighs. "i messed up. i... i hurt people. people she cared about."

robin frowns. you wouldnt forgive someone so easily for that. theres more to what steve is saying, she just cant figure out what. "she must really love you, then. if she forgave you."

"i dont know if she loves me, but i know that she believes in me. sees someone worth putting up with." he huffs, he cant believe he will never see you again. he hates that he will never be able to thank you for seeing a version of him that no one else could. "it wasnt until i messed up that i realized she saw something in me. its ironic, isnt it? but i guess you gotta mess up to figure things out, right?"

he had to mess up to realize that he loved you, too.

"i hope so. i feel like my whole life has been one big error." robin admits. its the least she could do, offer steve a piece of herself in return for what hes offered her.

an unattractive snort escapes steve. he laughs, and his shoulders shake against robins. he understands exactly what she means. "yup."

"god, i wonder how y/n does it."

"does what?"

robin pauses, worries that she might reveal too much. but its steve. if theyre going to die together, he deserves to know. he has to know. "shes always able to see the error in people and love them anyways."

steve is quiet. he lets what she said settle over him. its what he loves the most about you. how youve always managed to see the good in people, even in someone as cruel as billy. he hadnt known that robin noticed this kindness in you, too.

she seems to understand you in a way only he and jonathan do.

"you know, i wish id known you in clicks class." its a peace offering. an extension of himself to robin for caring about you the way he does. no one really seems to be able, despite how easy steve finds it to be.

"yeah?"

"really, i do. maybe you couldve helped me pass the class." he breathes out, the thought of all he couldve done differently will always haunt him. king steve is dead, but the persona is a ghost he will never be able to get rid of. "maybe instead of being here, id be with y/n on some romantic getaway. maybe you wouldve given me the courage to do what i shouldve done sooner."

robin doesnt say anything. she turns her face away, presses her cheek against the concrete surface.

"robin?"

she swallows. "yeah. yeah, maybe. you wouldnt have been stuck slinging ice cream with me like some smuck."

steve shakes his head. hes worried hes said the wrong thing. "hey, dont get me wrong. i enjoyed being your smuck. it was fun while it lasted."

bittersweetness creeps upon robins face. she smiles, though its a sad one. shes going to die with the understanding of why youve fallen so hard for steve harrington. "yeah. it was."

then the doors burst open and the russian find them.

[igotanidea]

Alternate: Jason todd x fem!reader

summary: I love you in every multiverse.

***

“I wish I've met you earlier…..”

She frowned.

As sweet as that sentence sounded, she could tell there was a hidden meaning to it. Something indefinable, not conveyable with words. Something only someone close to Jason would recognize.

It was a Saturday morning after a intense Friday night.  There was no obligation to go anywhere, to do anything, to rush through the task list and Jason and Y/N were laying in bed, tangled in the sheets, their bodies so close together and yet not close enough, simply enjoying each other’s presence and warmth coming from the intimacy. The sounds of rain drops thumping out on the window sill added to the atmosphere of the incoming lazy day as Y/N snuggled closer to Jason, making sure he wouldn’t run away from her.   

He was still learning how to be calm and at peace like this.

Barely a second ago, her head was laying on his chest, her fingers tracing patterns on his skin, softly, slowly in the most loving and caring gesture she could produce, almost as if she was trying to tell him to stay, without using her voice. One of his arms were wrapped around her waist, caressing the small of her back making her hum softly in contentment, the other tangled in her hair.

It was so perfect.  

And then he said those six words.

“Jay?” she asked a bit confused why he came up with something like that out of the blue. “Is everything ok, baby?” Y/N raised her head wriggling out of his embrace, searching for his eyes, her voice and gaze concerned at the sudden confession.

He knew better than to look at her, instead keeping his eyes focused on the ceiling, hands behind his head now, still laying on his back on the bed, not budging even a little. He knew that the second their gazes met he would break. And he hated being vulnerable.

Yes, he loved her.

Yes, he felt safe with his emotions while being with her.

Yes, he trusted her.

But.

He was an emotional one and pouring his heart out to someone, anyone was still hard.

So he stayed silent, afraid of as much as the possibility of being too much.

“Jason.” She said, her voice more serious now, but he was deaf to her calling. “Jason!”

“Yes, princess?” he asked casually

“Come on! You can’t just drop a sentence like that and go silent on me….”she cooed cupping his face and forcing him to look at her. “baby…..” she caressed his cheek and leaned forwards brush her nose over his. “talk to me, please…..”

“It’s nothing.”

She sighed. God, he could be so stubborn at times.

“Jace…. I love you…. It doesn’t matter that we haven’t met ten years later. Or five…. You hear me? it doesn’t matter…. I love you…. You have all of my affection now and….”

“I could have loved you for so much longer…..” he whispered chiming in and closing his eyes.

“What…..?” her heart hammered in her chest, the slightest blush creeping on her face. Out of every romantic and sweet things he ever said, out of all the poems and sentences he quoted to her this little one might have been the most intimate one. It was a suggestion that what they had was something more than a fling. And even though she knew that, hearing something like that coming from him brought tears of happiness into her eyes.

“Y/N? Oh God…. I’m so sorry, baby….” He changed position, sitting up to hug her to his chest immediately “I’m so sorry, please don’t cry, I didn’t mean to hurt you…..” he started babbling kissing the top of her head repeatedly, holding her tighter. “I just wish I knew you before so I could save you from all the things that happened in your past….  Self doubts, pain, hurt, fear…. I wish I could have been your shield, protecting you from any harm…..You didn’t deserve a single trauma that happened in your life…. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there baby….”

“You know….” she pulled back slightly “all those details you mentioned… all that trauma… it led me to you…. It led me to the only person I know my heart is safe with….. It’s like I loved you before even knowing you….? Does that make sense?

“It does to me.” He smiled softly, wiping her tears “cause I think I feel the same. Hey, I am not good with all that space and time concepts, but do you think we might have met before?”

“Are you asking me if I believe in reincarnation of souls?”

“Do you?”

“Not until now…..” she whispered “I know it may sound stupid, but ….. do you think there is a alternate reality, somewhere, where we haven’t met? Cause I don’t think I could ever be without you…..”

“Baby…..” he smiled brushing hair out of her forehead and kissing her temple, pulling her closer to him, rocking gently back and forth. “Such verse is pretty much impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you in every multiverse…..” he smiles leaning his forehead on her.

And it was perfect.......  

[yongility]

NEO TV # ROCKABYE (taeyong x reader, slightly yuta x reader) 4/?

genre: single dad au, ceo au, fluff, slightly angst, smut. nurse au. warnings: adult language, death mentions,taeyong's mom is kinda mean. idk there's not a lot of warning for this one.

word count: ??? (not proofread!!!)

a/n: if you want to be in the taglist, just lemme know;) enjoy!

Third month,

week one, Thursday.

The nights at the hospital seemed to get longer and longer as the week progressed; like everyone else, there was something that (Y/N) did not like about her job, despite the love she had for her vocation... she fervently hated the night shifts. And if a hospital was not a cozy place in itself, at night it became even colder.

A quick glance at the clock that decorated her wrist as she walked through the long, whitish corridors of the building showed two o'clock in the morning; and it was then that she realized it was time for a second round in the maternity care area, where a couple of babies lay warmly in the small incubators that kept them up to date. As she reached the transparent panel that kept her out of that room, her eyes found themselves slightly illuminated. Her heart always skipped a beat every time she saw a tiny being inside that place and for some reason.... Sun Hee Lee came to her mind.

Recalling the late night interruption that had occurred a week ago at Lee Taeyong's house, she couldn't help but think that sometimes it seemed like the universe always put something in the middle of the two of them so that all their interactions were disrupted..... Was it the universe? Or rather, Ms. Lee? Who seemed to find just the right time and place to appear next to them, and as much as she wanted to avoid feeling uncomfortable about it, she couldn't. What was it that was going on that Mrs. Lee felt she shouldn't be welcome in the little family? If it was because of monetary issues, (Y/N) she was well aware that they were indeed positioned in different places, still, she knew well that she did not deserve such treatment. She felt a kind of connection with those two people, which she would definitely like to keep close. It was difficult to explain; she knew that the situation should not be anything more than professional, but she couldn't even explain it to herself. There was something, something that called to her as soon as little Sunnie opened her eyes in the maternity ward and even though her heart was so soft and she loved to feel around little souls; no infant had ever captivated her heart more than Sun Hee had.

The same feeling of captivity that Taeyong had given her.

But it was too early to admit it.

So thanks to the enormous warmth she felt when she was around the Lee family, she knew that feeling was not something she wanted to let go.

Even looking through the big window; (Y/N) could swear that their eyes were lit up, how peaceful those little bodies were. All small, with no worries afflicting their bodies. It was in those moments where she could reaffirm to herself that she had chosen the right profession. As hard as it could be at times; she could not regret that decision. She could think that she was doing something right in her life and that made her feel a little burning in her eyes? Did she want to cry? She was moved for some reason... a reason she knew well, but would rather ignore.

If there was one thing she was aware of it was that life gave you opportunities... that there were other times that it took them away... she understood that life sometimes enlightened you and other times, it put stones in your path. She knew and recognized that life was a constant up and down and there was nothing she could do about it but accept and continue with what life gave her. The only thing she thought she would never understand was why the universe had put that in her life... or rather taken away? Something that at some point could have made her an immense illusion, now would simply remain as a desire inside her.

And a doubt that would remain in her forever... Why her?

Her long thought was interrupted when a presence was perceived at her side. She wasn't aware of how long it had been since her arrival, but it seemed like it had been a while already. Without moving her head she could tell who the person was who had come to her side and simply fell into a slight silence, only to hear a small sigh accompanied by a couple of words:

“They say it's not good to lock yourself in your thoughts” that person blurted. “especially if it's.... almost three o'clock in the morning.”

(Y/N) separated her eyes from the window and moved his head to find herself face to face with Yuta Nakamoto, who had a slight smile on his face and a pair of tired eyes that would never cease to see her with immense warmth.

“Impossible not to do after a long shift” she joked, cocking her head to one side.

“Very long shift; five deliveries in forty-eight hours” added Yuta with a heavy sigh “Incredible how this is... if for us doctors and nurses it's difficult, impossible to imagine how difficult it is for those women who carry a human being with them for nine months and then take it out of their body.”

The girl returned her gaze to the incubators and with a soft, almost disappointed whisper, continued: “yes, I can't imagine it either.”

Yuta watched her and in her countenance he noticed something different, was it the tiredness of the shift or was there something else that had her upset? He decided to overlook it for a moment, the only thing he wanted right now was a good company and what better than (Y/N)'s. He wasn't lying when he said that his shift felt very long but at that moment, (Y/N)'s aura was enough for him to feel comforted.

He wanted to say that he sensed a certain oddity that particular day in his co-worker...because today she didn't radiate the same glow she regularly did.

She must be tired, he thought.

Despite that, he longed to see the warm smile that was always plastered on her face... and longed to see her sparkling eyes as they conversed.

Impossible not to like her eventually.

“Is this a bad time to say that I really want to ask you out?” after a long moment of silence, Yuta's voice came out suddenly and managed to rumble the girl's ears.

Her eyes widened slightly and it took her a while to process those words. Her body shifted until her gaze collided with Yuta's, who could only hold his breath slightly. The boy felt his hands sweat, as if he were a 15-year-old teenager, feeling a slight point of tension in the atmosphere.

Would she say no?

(Y/N) smiled sideways and that alone managed to get Yuta's little nervousness out of his body. He noticed himself relaxing as his shoulders fell into rest and a small smile appeared on his face.

“Another coffee at the hospital cafeteria?" she asked jokingly. Yuta laughed softly ducking his head and looking at his shoes, he slightly shook his head to answer:

“No, this time it's for real. I want to ask you out. Out of our work environment, not as coworkers” he told her” I want you to be yourself and I don't want you to see me as Doctor Nakamoto, just as two people going out for a drink to enjoy the moment.

Y/N's little smile disappeared and was replaced by a big and firm one.

What a sweetheart Yuta Nakamoto was.

“ Sure, Yuta” his name left the brunette's lips so softly that Yuta thought he might faint right there. “let's go out.”

And even though all this time he wanted to avoid it and only focus on Yuta... was there any reason why Lee Taeyong's face had to pop into his head right now?

She was aware that she enjoyed Dr. Nakamoto's company. She even knew that they shared similar tastes. He knew Yuta was an excellent man.... Why couldn't he focus on that alone?

She knew Yuta for much longer than she did Taeyong, that should be a significant difference, shouldn't it?

What was it that wanted to keep her close to the second mentioned always?

“Is tomorrow night okay with you?” for the second time in all this time, Yuta's voice brought her out of her trance. “I heard there's a winter fair in the center of town, we could go for a bite to eat and then walk around.”

“I would love to.”

_______________________________________________

If Taeyong could open a trunk of memories inside his thoughts; before Sunnie, before he even took the responsibility of the company one hundred percent... when he was still a teenager with everything in hand and eager to devour the world; his favorite people would also be captured in each of his memories. Jaehyun, Doyoung and Johnny were Taeyong adventure companions even before they could remember; friends since childhood and adolescence, the three of them were really important people in his life.

His life companions.

They even felt more like family than his own family.

And don't misunderstand Taeyong, he appreciated and adored his family, but simply put, it was hard not to feel alone sometimes within the world he lived in and within that same world and with each of their parents being partners, it was easy to strike up a friendship because at the end of the day, their parents had the same fixations for them and their life, all four of them would end up in the same place, with the same responsibilities.

It was Jaehyun and Doyoung who first appeared in Taeyong's life and he could still remember that day as if it was just a year ago. A little boy who inside a huge house could not find enough comfort to feel like what he was: a simple boy. Taeyong liked to be social, but he had a hard time making friends, and he didn't understand why. In his preschool he could never form a friendship, it turns out that five-year-olds can be cruel... none of them ever wanted to join him at his invitations to play at his house after school.

That was why the day he heard his father tell his mother that his most loyal men in the business had children close to Taeyong's age, his big round eyes filled with a gleam that lasted for days; that was when Jaehyun and Doyoung came into his life to stay.... It wasn't until two years later, when he was eight, Doyoung seven and Jaehyun six, that an eight year old Johnny arrived in Korea from the United States, his father teamed up with his father and after a business dinner where it was one of those occasions where the whole family had to be present, the three kids decided to name Johnny as the missing piece to their big group of friends.

They were not wrong.

Trips, dinners, afternoons and evenings of games, being enrolled in the same schools and the same activities; these were all key points for their friendship to stick. They enjoyed their teenage years, perhaps because deep down inside they knew that they would end up well involved in their parents' businesses and that eventually their lives would not be about anything other than work.

Just like it is right now.

Being teenagers, parties weren't something they hated; Johnny was the life of the party and Taeyong always ended up being persuaded, he wouldn't deny it...he did enjoy that atmosphere.

Knowing that money was not something they had to worry about, their parties were somewhat... extravagant. They never really cared about how many people, or who went to their parties, at the end of the day, people were going to have a good time, getting drunk thanks to their money and not looking for a friendship with them and they didn't need it; they just liked to have a good time.

And after all, Taeyong could only look back and remember those moments with nostalgia. They were moments that would never come back and he knew it. He wasn't the same as he was in those years, his approach was different; so with his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk perched on his face, Taeyong shook his head slightly.

He looked at his three friends in front of him, who seemed to have done a plot against him.

He couldn't believe how childish they could be some of the times.

“I don't understand why you don't want to!” Johnny said as he pretended to be annoyed at his friend's response.

“Don't be loud, Sunnie's asleep," he chastised him. The four adults inside Taeyong's office turned to look at the corner where a small crib was set up.

After Taeyong's first few days back in the office, he felt he should arrange a special space for Sunnie if she would be accompanying him regularly to work. So, after asking his friends for help, a small place could be arranged especially for her, where she could at least sleep peacefully as often as she needed.

“We just don't really understand why you don't want to," Jaehyun continued.

“I don't know what you don't understand. I've already told you that I'm not for that kind of thing anymore," she answered obviously.

Doyoung rolled his eyes and shook his head in exasperation.

“Taeyong, don't talk like you're fifty years old," he commented, "it's just one night, so you can relax...so we can relax. Sunnie can stay home with your parents and we can pick her up once we get back.”

“Sunnie hasn't stayed alone with them," Taeyong explained, "Besides, I'm very busy these past few days.”

“One night, Taeyong. Please. Like old times, besides you deserve it, you've been a great father until today, I don't think Sun Hee will reproach you in the future," Johnny finished making Taeyong let out a heavy sigh. He brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose and exhaling nodded slightly.

“ Just for a few hours” he relented as he stood up from his seat and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He gazed off into the distance at his little girl sleeping soundly and another long, heavy sigh left his chest.

Not once in Sunnie's three months of life had she stayed with her parents. And that is, not to say that she didn't trust them, but well, sometimes they tended to be.... unconcerned? And he completely understood, they were two -retired- adults with enough money on their hands that they didn't have to worry about anything else in their later years of life. Besides, since Taeyong took the company under his command and worked it, he decided to detach himself as much as possible from his parents. He wanted his own way. So saying that he had a close relationship with them, wasn’t totally true and Sun Hee only used to spend time with her grandparents with Taeyong taking care of her.

“We swear you won't regret this. It won't even be anything crazy, it'll be a quiet outing.... we'll have something to eat and drink and when you least expect it, you'll be coming home with Sunnie. It will do you good, Yong. You need to get out of the routine you were falling into” encouraged Jaehyun as she approached him and hugged him by the shoulders “And you know what? you should invite (Y/N)” he suggested looking at the rest of his friends who nodded without thinking “She's a great girl and you can tell you enjoy spending time together, we like her. I don't see why not to invite her.”

Which made him think more than twice about his decision.

But, it really wouldn't hurt if he went out to have fun for a while.... right?

Taeyong pondered that suggestion that the more it crossed his mind, the more it didn't sound so bad. It had been almost two weeks since the small, interrupted dinner that had taken place in his apartment and just remembering it, his cheeks felt hot with the embarrassment that ran through his body, seeing in his memory the way his mother had seen and treated the girl.

It wouldn't hurt to make it up to her by inviting her to the place his friends had planned to go and although he wished it was just the two of them going out, the fact that (Y/N) knew Doyoung, Jaehyun and Johnny made him feel safe. There was no doubt that (Y/N) was someone he wanted to keep by his side as a companion for a long time. Even - even if he denied it - there were times when he thought about whether he should look for something more in her, more than a friendship, yet, anyway, incorporating her into his - small - social circle could already be a good step.

So yes, inviting her didn't sound so bad after all.

___________________________________

With Sun Hee in his arms as he rocked her from side to side and her phone in his hand, with an already familiar number on the recent call list; Taeyong couldn't help but feel like a complete teenager.

Why did he have to feel like that? It was easy what he had to do, he just had to: one, press the button. Two, chat with her and three, tell her about Friday's plan to invite her. It wasn't complicated at all, why did he feel it was? Sunnie managed to stir in his chest with a few babbles coming out of her little mouth and he couldn't help but think that possibly his daughter was reproaching him for being a coward at that very moment.

He exhaled deeply and as he inhaled, with his eyes closed, he pressed the button and the call began. He felt his heart beating steadily inside his chest.

God, he heard a galloping heartbeat in his ears.

How long had it been since he last felt like this?

The unknown vanished when a soft voice came on the other end of the line and with a smile on his face, he called out to her.

“ (Y/N)” her name came gently out of his mouth and he felt his daughter move in his chest again.

“ Taeyong...I...didn't expect you to call” she confessed, from her line, with a shy smile found on her face.

She didn't feel any different than Taeyong did.

“I know and I'm sorry, I've been busy the last few days..... How’ve you been?," he asked cooing a little to Sunnie so she wouldn't wake up.

“To be honest, quite alright. These last few days have been a bit heavy because my shifts at the hospital have been at night, but nothing out of the ordinary," she replied as she sat on the couch in her living room, with her legs crossed and feeling like a - silly - teenager, "how have you been? How is my pretty girl? Everything okay with Sunnie?

“My pretty girl”, Taeyong could swear he wouldn't mind if he heard her talked about her little girl like that again.

“Yes, everything's fine with her. I can bet she misses you” Taeyong pulled his daughter closer to his chest and continued “I'm sorry to call at this hour, but I wanted to ask you a question.”

Y/N's heart skipped a beat and with a shiver running down her dorsal sword, the girl settled better in her place.

“Sure, Yong, what's wrong?” he asked curiously.

“Umh, Johnny, Doyo and Jae have decided to go out for some dinner tomorrow and maybe have a few drinks right after that, you know to relax a bit and all that," he commented going to her big armchair and sitting down gently.

“Oh, would you like me to take care of Sunnie," with confusion on her features, which Taeyong clearly could not see, he interrupted him.

“Oh, no, no, no, no. It's not exactly that," he hastened to clarify, "I... actually wanted to know if you…," he cleared his throat as he felt it was beginning to dry out and a spark of anxiety ran through his body as he felt his hands sweat and was unable to dry them.

A total teenager.

“If I..." the girl encouraged him.”

“Ig you'd like to join us," he finished, "I mean, if you want to and are able to, of course. Don't feel compromised in saying yes, I understand if it's been a tired week and so on, so...- he quickly spoke and again he was interrupted by her.

“ Taeyong” she called him “calm down” she laughed softly causing the boy to do so as well.

And even though he tried to think normal, he felt his blood running faster and soon, his cheeks turned a crimson color. And knowing that this happened to him regularly when it came to something related to Taeyong Lee, he still felt pitiful.

But her goofy smile was erased before she could even say yes. Because, although she would love to say yes to Taeyong and accompany him and his friends, the conversation she had with Yuta earlier in the morning came to her mind and she closed her eyes and let out a sigh.

“ Yong, I'm sorry” she started and he could feel his shoulders tense up “I just remembered that tomorrow I'll be a little busy and... “

“Oh” Taeyong interrupted.

“I'm sorry. I would really have loved to go with you... with you- he corrected himself quickly “but I didn't remember I had this thing with Yuta and....”

“ Yuta?" with tremendous skill, Taeyong stood up from the couch still confused and magically without having woken up his daughter, "Dr. Nakamoto? will you... two go out alone?" afraid to hear a positive answer, he asked.

“ I...erm... Yes? as friends! as co-workers?” she replied, feeling frustrated, "Listen Taeyong, I'm really sorry...”

“ No, it's okay. I completely understand. I hope you and Yuta have fun.”

“Taeyong...”

“We can have dinner some other day if you're not busy," he suggested with a grimace plastered on his face. On his way to his room, still not hearing an answer from the girl, he reached the crib and after placing his cell phone between his shoulder and his ear to hold it, with both hands he put Sunnie down in her little crib so he could free his hands and continue the talk.

“Sure! We can talk about it later, I mean, I'll be free, that would be great.”

“Yeah, it would be…. (Y/N)? I have to go, Sunnie just went to sleep and.... you know," he sighed.

“Taeyong?" she called out to him, "give Sunnie a kiss for me," he replied with a simple yes.

And another one for you.

How much she wanted to tell him that.

“Talk to you later, (T/N). Have fun tomorrow, okay?" and after a short goodbye, they both ended the call. Taeyong dropped his cell phone on the room couch and frustratedly plopped down on it as he brought his hands to his face and exhaled heavily.

How could he compete against someone like Yuta Nakamoto?

_____________________________________________

I'm sorry I took too long for posting this!!

Taglist is open, just lemme know if u want to be added! You can ask me something if you want here!

Taglist: @geminiml95 @zooana @cathamada @hameesstuff

[petalsthefish]

The Me I Was

Day #15 of my Jilytober Song Shuffle Fic Fest featuring "The Me I Was" by Kenzie READ ON A03

Lily stood in front of the mirror, her fingers trembling as she held up the dress she used to adore. It was a soft pastel shade, flowing effortlessly in the way she had once loved, but now it felt heavy, like it didn’t belong to her anymore. Snape’s voice, sharp and unforgiving, echoed in her mind: “Don’t wear that Muggle dress. Wear robes instead .” His words clung to her like vines, weaving through her thoughts and tightening around her chest with every breath.

Men always lingered in her thoughts, especially when she didn’t want them to—like right now, when she was trying to focus on getting ready for a date. She was supposed to be excited, but all she could hear were the ghosts of their voices. Her ex-boyfriend’s dismissive tone echoed in her head: "She's just a friend," he'd said, so casually. She had believed him, until the day she stumbled upon the truth—him in a broom closet with someone who wasn’t her.

That betrayal still burned, fresh and raw, even though it had been a long time. Now, here she was, standing in her current boyfriend James’ room, staring at her reflection. She glanced at him, sitting quietly on the bed behind her, absorbed in a book. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He was kind, gentle, and understanding. But none of that seemed to matter against the weight of her past.

“Fuck me, I hate this part,” she whispered to herself.

“You say something, love?” James asked.

“No.”

The walls she’d built were high, impenetrable. Her defenses were always up, a fortress she had constructed piece by piece after every disappointment, every heartbreak. She didn’t even recognize herself anymore. Once, she had been open, vulnerable in a way that felt freeing. She had trusted, loved without hesitation. But that version of her felt like a distant memory now, a girl who had been left behind in the wreckage of broken promises and lies.

She knew it wasn’t James’ fault. He was patient with her, always offering her a hand when she needed it, never pushing too hard. Yet every time he got close, she pulled away, a reflex she couldn’t control. It left her gutted every time.  She loved to blow up her life. 

Guilt gnawed at her. He deserves better than this, she thought, her stomach twisting with self-reproach. What kind of girlfriend worried about ghosts from the past when the man she was with happened to be the best damn boyfriend she could ask for? She exhaled shakily and met her own gaze in the mirror. The dress still hung limply in her hands, its softness now a mockery of how unsteady she felt. This wasn’t who she wanted to be.

Her underwear clung to her hips, which had filled out in the last year ever since she'd stopped running. Her pale skin was flushed pink from her emotions, unsightly red freckles dotting her chest. She missed her old body, the slim little thing that had been so nice to look at. No pouch in the stomach. No stretch marks on her ass. How did James find her attractive in any sense?  

"Almost ready, love?" James' voice broke the silence, gentle and full of warmth as it drifted from the bed.

Lily winced at the question, even though it was harmless. Her reaction didn’t go unnoticed. James’ brow lifted in subtle concern, as though he could sense her inner turmoil before she even said a word.

"Take your time," he added quickly, his voice even softer now. "We're not in a rush. Just checking in, my mum and dad can entertain themselves in Hogsmede for a time.."

He always seemed to know when she was feeling fragile, even when she tried so hard not to show those cracks. She’d spent years perfecting her armor, polishing it until it gleamed, ready to repel anyone who tried to get too close. Yet with James, it was different. No matter how high she built her walls, he saw past them—saw her. He never pried, never pushed, but somehow, he knew. 

He always knew.

Closing her eyes, Lily tried to conjure an image of the girl she used to be. I wish you could know the old me, she thought bitterly. The version of herself that existed before the hurt, before the lies, before she had learned to shut the world out.

In her mind, she pictured that girl—the one who used to laugh easily, who approached life with fearless abandon. She used to be a dreamer, believed in love that didn’t falter, in happy endings that didn’t slip away. She wasn’t afraid to take risks, and wasn't afraid to fall. That girl would’ve worn this dress without a second thought, spinning in front of the mirror with joy instead of dread.

James always said he loved her from the moment he saw her, and Lily almost smiled at the memory of that carefree version of herself. Almost. But the smile never fully formed, fading as the weight of the present pressed down on her again. Her eyes opened to her current reflection, soft in all the wrong places, scared by all the past faces. 

She wasn’t that girl anymore.

That girl had disappeared, buried beneath years of heartache, betrayal, and the painful lessons that had forced her to grow up too quickly. The scars she carried weren’t just etched into her skin—they were etched into her soul, woven deep into the fabric of who she’d become. Each one was a reminder of the love she’d given and lost, of the trust that had been shattered time and time again.

What if James realizes I’m not that girl anymore?  

The thought cut through her, sharp and sudden. 

What if he grows to resent me?  

The girl he had fallen in love with was long gone, and in her place stood someone bruised, someone broken. 

Could he see the heart beneath—the heart that was still beating? 

A heart that had been all but dead until the day he'd grabbed her face and kissed her in the middle of a conversation in the library. 

I wish I could still be her. The me I was, she thought again. 

James' voice broke through her swirling thoughts, gentle yet steady. His hands slid over her shoulders, grounding her with a soft squeeze. “That’s cute, baby,” he murmured, warmth filling his tone. “You should wear it.”

Her throat tightened as she held the dress close, clinging to it like the last remnant of a girl she barely recognized anymore. She wanted to wear it. She wanted to feel beautiful, confident, free from the weight of her fears and expectations.

It is cute, she thought, the realization soft but sure. I want to wear it.

With a sigh, Lily surrendered to the moment, letting the dress fall over her head. James' hands moved with her, helping her smooth it down with gentle care, his touch light. When she glanced back at the mirror, the reflection startled her. The girl staring back looked familiar—like someone she used to know, a girl she hadn’t seen in a long time. The dress still fit, its flowing skirts reminding her of carefree nights at the old Muggle pub down the road from home, where she’d once danced without a second thought.

James leaned in and kissed her shoulder, his lips lingering for a moment. “That’s a winner, Lily.”

Lily swallowed, her emotions on the edge of spilling over as she whispered, “I love you, James.”

“I love you more,” he responded without hesitation.

“Impossible,” she teased, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.

James scoffed, pulling playfully at the end of her red braid. “I’m the one who said ‘I love you’ first, remember?” 

“Sorry it took me so long,” she murmured, her fingers threading through his messy hair as he nuzzled into her neck. “If it helps, I feel absolutely awful for ever believing anyone who ever called you a toe-rag."

"I'm offended," he argued, "I've never been a toe-rag in my life. I'm too handsome to be comparable to one."

She pinched his arm. "Honestly, your arrogance will be the death of me—James!”

He bit her neck lightly, then nosed her affectionately. “I'm just confident,” he chuckled. “And I’m confident you’ve loved me as long as I’ve known you.”

“In your dreams,” Lily scoffed, rolling her eyes, though the warmth spreading through her chest didn’t quite match the lightness of her tone. Deep down, she knew the truth—there had always been something between them, something unspoken but undeniable, something she had felt all along, even when she refused to admit it.

"You're in my dreams every night, baby."  James leaned in, brushing a soft kiss on her cheek. 

She glanced at him in the mirror, where his eyes, full of that familiar affection, met hers. His smile was steady, like a promise, assuring her he wasn’t going anywhere. Wiping away her tears, Lily exhaled, her fingers trembling just slightly. She knew healing wasn’t straightforward. She wasn’t going to magically become the girl she used to be. But for the first time in ages, she felt a flicker of hope, a small but steady pulse—like the faintest heartbeat beneath layers of scar tissue.

Maybe, just maybe, there was still a part of her untouched by the hurt, the lies, the fear. 

A part of her that had always loved James, even before she knew how to show it.

Maybe she hadn’t lost herself entirely. 

Maybe the part of her that loved him had been there all along, patiently waiting, just like he had.

[babybluebex]

long lost love: after | joseph quinn x fem!reader

summary: part two of two! eight years after you break up with joseph, you reunite with him, and you grapple with the decision of if you want to get back with him and become a household name like him, or if you want to lose him again. pairing: joseph quinn x fem!reader (rpf - don't like, don't read) tags: accusations of infidelity, lovesick joey, wes makes several appearances AGAIN, mentions of smut (but no actual smut lol sorry), brief mention of vomit author's note: thank you for your patience with this fic! i don't deserve y'all, and i love y'all so much!! thanks for reading this fic, and i hope you enjoy the end!

“Oh my god, babe,” your coworker started, leaning over to wipe down a table. She was young, a girl named Anna that was still in uni, and you liked her a lot, enough that you called her your work-sister. Yes, you were doing what you had to do; roles had washed up, and you needed to pay the bills somehow, so you were waiting tables at a little restaurant in the heart of London. It was a hellish job and you hated it, but you had no other choice.

After your short stint on the sitcom right out of LAMDA, you had auditioned and sent in tape after tape, but nothing really came to fruition. You weren’t as lucky as other people were, and you sometimes thought about going to uni proper so that you could get a meaningful degree and get a real job and give up on the whole acting thing, but you couldn’t possibly do that to yourself. Your pride was too strong and, after Joe, you were determined not to sabotage your own life again. You didn’t date, and you continued to send in tapes. “You’ll never guess who just walked in.” 

“Is it Kate and William?” you chuckled, wiping the bread crumbs from your own table. “No, wait— It’s Meg and Harry.”

“No,” Anna laughed. “Do you watch Stranger Things?” 

You shrugged. “I mean, I watched the first season,” you said. “I know the fourth one just came out.” 

“Yeah, well, Steve and Eddie from Stranger Things just walked in,” Anna said. She could barely contain her excitement, and you rolled your eyes as you laughed. “Will you take that table from me? I can’t serve them, I’m too nervous.” 

“Sure,” you said; it was a slow lunch hour, and a table meant money. Especially if these guys were on a Netflix show. “But you’re taking my next table that comes in.” 

“Deal,” Anna said. 

You smiled at her as you tightened your apron around your middle, and you approached the only filled table in the whole place. Two men occupied it, one facing you and the other facing away. The one facing you, you recognized— He was Steve, you remembered from when you watched the first season. With his head of good hair, it was impossible to mistake him, but you had no idea what his name was. The other guy— well, you couldn’t make him out too well, not from the back of his head. “Hi there, gents,” you welcomed them, smiling first at “Steve” and then turning your attention to the other man. “Welcome to—“ 

You dropped your pen, your breath sticking in your chest. Joseph. It was Joseph. He looked equally as shocked to see you, dark eyes big and wide, his cheeks pale, and tears started to well in your eyes. “Oh my God,” you whispered. You couldn’t breathe, your heart ramming inside your chest. It was actually him. He was here.

“I actually get that a lot,” “Steve” laughed. 

“Oh my… Wow,” Joseph said, a grin crossing his face. “H-How are you, how have you been?” 

“I’m fine,” you told Joseph, and he stood up to envelop you in a hug. You threw your arms around his neck and hugged him back, hand on the nape of his neck, appreciating how eight years could change a person. He smelled different, felt different against your body, he even seemed to carry himself differently. His hair looked darker, he had a bit of stubble on his chin, he had small wrinkles next to his eyes— but he still had his beautiful brown eyes, the same ones that had drawn you in, back all those years ago. “I’ve been fine, how are you?” 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Joseph said with a breathy chuckle. “It’s been— What? Eight years? Time flies, huh?” 

“Definitely,” you agreed. You couldn’t believe it. Right in front of you was your biggest regret, smiling at you and staring you in the face, and you could only manage to be cordial. You wanted to be childish, to break down at his feet and beg for him to take you back, but all you managed to say was, “Sorry for not keeping in touch.” 

“Oh, it’s—” Joseph said, and he dismissively waved his hand around.”Right after Dickensian happened, I had to change my phone number, so it’s probably my fault.” 

“Crazed fan?” you asked and laughed, and Joseph pulled a face, his eyes wide and eyebrows raised as he gnawed on his lip. 

“You’d be surprised,” he said. “Here, actually, I’ve had to change my number again since Stranger Things aired, let me give you my new number.”

“You’re blowing through phone numbers,” you chuckled. “That many crazed fans?”

“Well, this time I changed it because my old number was linked to my Hinge account,” Joseph said with an embarrassed flush in his cheeks, and your heart skipped. Had he been using dating apps? Jesus, even the thought made you ill. You hadn’t dated anybody since him, and you wondered how prolific he had been in the wake of his success, but then you stopped that line of thought. It was your fault he was single in the first place. “And I didn’t want people to find that account so… I changed it.” 

“Smart,” you nodded. “Yeah, I don’t have my phone on me right now— against the rules— so just, umm—”

“Give me your number,” Joseph said quickly. “I’ll text you instead.” He gave you a crooked smile, the same crooked smile that he had given you that first day, when he still had his braces on, and it made your heart melt. You were a little glad that the onus was on Joseph to contact you instead of the other way around; you never would have texted him, too afraid of messing everything up again. “I’m not in London for very much longer, but maybe we could grab a drink before I head to Santa Monica.”

“Yeah, for sure,” you said. Joseph handed you his phone, open to a new contact card, and you quickly typed in your name and number, then hesitated before adding a small heart after your name. That would tell him what he needed to know without actually saying it, you hoped. “I’d like that a lot. Oh, how’s Wes?”

“Wes is doing good,” Joseph told you, pocketing his phone swiftly. “He and Liam got married a few years ago, in 2018.”

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed. “Oh, good for them! I remember Wes telling me all about how he thought Liam was ‘the one’ when they first started dating.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Joseph laughed. “They’re still obsessed with each other, it makes me sick.” 

“They always were a little into PDA,” you smiled, reminiscing on movie nights with the pair. “But they were cute.” 

“You know…” Joseph started. “I was going to grab drinks with Wes tonight, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you joined. He was just talking about you the other day, wondering what was going on and everything.” 

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “I’d actually love that, I’ve been wondering how he is too. I haven’t been able to find him on social media. Or you either, for that matter.” 

“Yeah, I had Twitter for a bit, but I gave up on it,” Joseph admitted. “I just… I don’t know, I think I’m too old for that sorta stuff. I don’t know how it works or anything; I have an Instagram but my mate runs it for me, and only because Netflix basically forced me to get it. I don’t even know the password to it.” He laughed, and so did you, and you caught “Steve” out of the corner of your eye, suddenly remembering that he was there too. “Oh, fuck, sorry, where are my manners? Y/N, this is Joe Keery, he plays Steve. Joe, this is Y/N, she’s my… Well, it’s a long story, but we went to LAMDA together.” 

Wow. What a way to simplify your relationship. Although, you suppose it was easier than explaining “We used to date and then she broke up with me because she thought I cheated, which I didn’t, but she knows that now”. Long story, indeed. “We were pretty much best mates,” you added. “But after we graduated, we just… Drifted apart.” 

“What a shame too,” Joseph mumbled, then, before you could react, added, “I’ll text you about tonight, yeah? Time and place and all.” 

“Alright,” you said. “I’m looking forward to it.” 

You ended up introducing Anna to Joe and Joseph, telling her that they were good people and would tip her well, and you excused yourself to the server alley. Your hands were shaking as you sat down on a cardboard box and buried your head in your hands, and you tried to control your breathing. Joseph. No longer was he the awkward, blond, braces-and-glasses thing that he had been— he had matured nicely, luckily seemingly keeping his sense of humor that you adored, and you sniffled as you extracted your phone. You saw a text from an unknown number that just said “Joey” with a heart, and you frowned it away as you went to Instagram and typed in his name. Sure enough, his account was the first one to pop up, only one post so far, of a heavily made-up Joseph. He wore a long wig, giving the camera his best Blue Steel look, looking more serious and deadly than you had ever seen him before. Apparently, according to Anna, this was Eddie. 

Before you could do any more research into Eddie or Joseph, a new text came through from the same unknown number, Joey’s number. Wes and I are meeting at Soho House at 8 o’clock, he texted. I’ll be there a few minutes early, to make sure that you can get in.

You had heard of the exclusive Soho House before, although you had never been in it, and your heart skipped. Joseph had definitely moved up in the world. Cool, you answered back. I can’t wait. 

Wes says he’s excited to see you, Joseph told you. It’s been a while, huh?

Yeah, for sure, you answered. And you stopped, debating what to say next. Should you apologize?  Would he even know what you were apologizing for? Maybe you should wait to apologize and explain yourself in person. But Wes would be there, you wouldn’t be able to say exactly what you wanted. You wished that you could be alone with Joseph and talk, but you would take drinks. You would take anything that he decided to give you. 

You went home after your shift and instantly started to fret as you got dressed. Would it be awkward? Would you even enjoy the drinks with your old lover and friend? Or was tonight bound to be a disaster? You decided to try to look at it with as much positivity as you could— if he was inviting you out for drinks, he couldn’t hate you that much, right? Maybe he had forgiven you. Maybe he was still in love with you. 

No. Put that thought away. He was not in love with you. He had been dating since you, and probably had had girlfriends since you. He probably had a girlfriend now. He was the ultimate full package, kind and thoughtful and smart and funny and handsome and interesting, he was everything, girls should swoon over him. He should be absolutely rolling in women; there was no way that he still had feelings for you. 

When you arrived at Soho House, you saw him sitting outside instantly. He was looking as handsome as ever, smoking a cigarette and sipping on a drink in a short tumbler, and he took your breath away in a brown suit. God, had he grown even more handsome in your years apart? It didn’t feel real. “Joe!” you grinned as you approached him, and he smiled back at you, putting his cigarette out in an ashtray. 

“Hello!” he crooned, opening his arms for you. In an instant, almost as if you were drawn magnetically, you fell into his arms, hugging him tightly and pressing your head into his neck to smell his warm and earthy cologne. Joseph rubbed your back as he hugged you, just the same way he always used to, and, when you pulled away from the hug, Joseph gave you a warm, blushed smile. “Well, darling, you look stunning.” 

“Thank you,” you laughed breathlessly. “Says you! You— Fuck, you grew up! You look so good!” 

“Aw, well,” Joseph shrugged bashfully, tugging at the thin silver chain around his neck. “I mean, a lot can change in eight years.” 

“True,” you said. “But… A lot can stay the same… I’m sorry.” 

“What for?” Joseph asked, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“I…” you started. “For… You know what for. Don’t make me say it. It was humiliating enough the first time around.” 

“Let’s not have this talk here,” Joseph said softly. “Just come home with me later, we can talk there.” 

“Okay,” you agreed softly. “Can I just ask one thing?” Joseph nodded, and you carefully took his hands in yours, pressing your palms against his. You were scared to even ask, knowing that he would reject you, but you kept your resolve. “I know I hurt you. I know you probably want nothing to do with me, but… Please, if there’s any part of you that doesn’t hate me, just tell me. You are the best thing I’ve ever had in my life and I ruined it, and—”

Before you could say more, Joseph leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. It was quick, you could hardly call it a kiss, but your heart pounded in your chest like it did with your first kiss with Joe, all those years ago. You sighed and laced your fingers with Joe’s as he broke the kiss, and you started, “Does that mean—”

“Yes,” Joe whispered. “I never stopped loving you, sweetheart. You hurt me, but I never let you go.”

“Okay,” you said softly. “Good. Umm… Let’s go. Is Wes inside?” 

“Yeah,” Joe said. “He won’t stop talking about you.” With a hand on your back, he led you inside the exclusive club. You felt lightheaded even walking beside him again, and you couldn’t help the grin that covered your face when you saw Wes. He looked exactly the same, and you hugged him tightly. Wes’s arms were just as tight around you as he laughed, and he said, “Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Y/N. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Sorry.”

Joe helped you sit down on one of the tall stools, his hand still on your back, and he kissed your hair as he mumbled something about going to the restroom, and he slipped away as Wes showed you his hand and the gleaming silver band. “Liam and I got hitched,” Wes smiled as you squealed in excitement. 

“Oh, Wes, I’m so happy for you!” you told him. 

Wes hesitated for a second, looking over his shoulder at Joe retreating as he showed restraint that you didn’t remember him having, and he finally said, “Joe will never tell you, but you really did a number on him.”

“I know I did,” you cringed. 

“No, like,” Wes started. “He was going to ask you to marry him. He had the ring in his sock drawer and everything. When you broke up with him, I came home to find him on the floor, sobbing. He cried so hard he threw up. He was inconsolable for weeks. Didn’t do anything other than go to work and lay in bed. He was depressed, love. I thought he’d be like that forever.”

A ring. Marriage. The thought that you had ruined that made you sick. You rubbed the hem of your shirt between your fingers as you nodded at your lap, and you mumbled, “What got him out of that?” 

“Honestly?” Wes asked. “I don’t think he ever got out of it. I think working helps him, but he didn’t figure that out for a while. He did Dickensian, then didn’t work again for, like, a year, and he got really bad. He still really only works and goes home. I had to twist his arm to even get him to agree to this. ”

“Is it really your place to be telling me this?” you asked, halfway-jokingly, and Wes smiled. 

“It’s definitely not,” Wes said humorlessly. “But you deserve to know how he reacted when you broke up with him. It ruined him. He deserves better than that, and if you’re going to hurt him again, then don’t even bother.” 

“What makes you think that we’re gonna get back together?” you asked. “He wants nothing to do with me.” 

“That’s not what that kiss outside said,” Wes shrugged. “Just… Don’t let him down. Like I said, he’s been hurt enough by you.” 

You felt thoroughly shaken by that, but you nodded and righted yourself as Joe came back to the table, resting his hand on your shoulder. “What do you want to drink?” he asked. “I’ll get it for you.” 

“Oh, umm,” you started. “I can get it. Sit down, visit with Wes, I’ll be right back…” Quickly, before he could ask questions, you stood up and made your way to the bar. You needed a second alone to absorb everything Wes had just told you, but Joe had his own idea, taking the back of your shirt in a gentle grip and following you to the bar. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Joe said firmly. 

“Nothing,” you told him. “Everything’s fine.”

“Did Wes say something?” Joe asked. 

“No,” you insisted. “I just… This was a bad idea, all of this was a terrible… I’m going home.” 

“No, wait,” Joe said quickly. “Talk to me, darling, tell me what’s wrong.” 

“I’m not your darling,” you said quickly, edging past him towards the door. “Not anymore, I fucked that up so long ago—”

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” Joe told you, following you once again, out onto the street. 

“We could have been married by now, Joe!” you exclaimed. “We could’ve had kids by now! We could have had entirely different lives, the lives we always wanted, if it weren’t for me and-and my— I was an idiot, I was stupid and I thought I saw the signs and—”

“Hey, easy,” Joe said softly, shushing you as he pulled you into his arms. “You’re right, our lives could be completely different, but you weren’t the only one in the breakup. I could have tried to explain myself, I could have done a million things to keep you, but I didn’t, and I’ve fucking regretted it every day since then. You were the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and, if I could, I’d snap my fingers and have everything change, but I can’t do that. All I can do is beg you, please, come back to me.”

“But I did so wrong by you,” you whimpered. “Why do you still want me?” 

“Because I love you,” Joe told you. “I’ve loved you since I met you, and every morning, I wake up without you next to me and it fucking hurts. I want this to stop hurting. Please.” His eyes were big and wet, pleading and begging with every inch of himself, and you sniffled as you pressed your hand to his cheek. 

“Joey,” you said on shaky breaths. “I want you back too, but I can’t… I’ll just hurt you again.” 

“How are you sure?” Joe asked. “You don’t know that. Maybe we needed the few years apart to find ourselves, so when we came back together, we’d be more mature and… Darling, please. What do you need me to do? Get on my knees? I’ll do whatever you need me to. I just need you back in my life, please.” 

“Baby, please,” you sighed. “Stop begging. I’m… It’s such a terrible idea. How the actual fuck are we supposed to go back to being together like nothing happened? I’ll always feel guilty about the things I did to you.”

“But you don’t need to be,” Joe said. “You made the best decision you could have with the information you had. If I had the same evidence, I would have done the same. My girl, please.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut as your tears fell, and you mumbled, “Everything in me is telling me not to do this, but… I’ll do it. Maybe we can do a trial run, a few weeks together casually, and if that works, we can… We can be together fully.” 

“I’ll take it,” Joe said quickly. He nodded quickly, putting his hands on your waist, and he said, “I leave London the day after tomorrow for the MTV Awards, but-but, yes, a trial run would be amazing.” 

“MTV?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. “Were you nominated for something?” 

“Well, no,” Joe started. “But me and a few other guys from Stranger Things are presenting an award.”

“My famous actor,” you chuckled lightly, knocking his chin playfully with your knuckle, and Joe flushed. “I’m proud of you.” 

“Thank you, darling,” Joe said softly. “I’ve always dreamed of hearing you say that.”

The rest of the night went by better than you expected. Joe convinced you to go back inside Soho House with Wes, and the three of you threw back drinks and laughed like old times. It felt like no time had passed, all of the same old jokes coming back to you and making you laugh as hard as the first time, all of the “Remember when Joe…” or “Do you still…”, and Joe’s hand rested on your thigh all night, inching further and further up as the night went on. Eventually, as his thumb rubbed your inner thigh about half past eleven, you sighed and put down your glass. “Well, gents,” you said. “This has been just lovely, but I need to get going. I open at work tomorrow, which means I’ve gotta wake up early.” 

“No!” Wes sighed. “Don’t leave!” 

“I have to!” you giggled, pulling your purse around your body. “Bye, Wessy, it was so nice to see you!” 

“Wait,” Wes said, standing up and drawing you into a tight hug. You smiled into his shoulder as he embraced you, and, when he pulled away, he said, “Okay, now you can go.” 

“Alright,” you chuckled. Then, you turned to Joe, unsure of how to depart, and he stood up too. 

“I’ll walk you outside,” Joe said. “Have to make sure my woman gets home safe.” 

“Your woman?” you scoffed. 

“Won’t have anyone touch my woman,” Joe mumbled, grabbing his suit jacket from the back of the seat and tossing it over his shoulders. You smiled as he put a hand on your back and led you outside, the city bustling now, and, once you were outside, you hugged Joe tightly, hand on the nape of his neck. 

“Thank you, Joey,” you said. “Maybe we can see each other again before you leave for Santa Monica.” 

“Come home with me,” Joe said quickly. “Please?” 

“Cheeky bloke,” you grinned. “S’that all you want from me? Just a little fuck?” 

“No!” Joe huffed. “I mean, yes. I mean…” He laughed a little, and he said, “Are you drunk?” 

“A little,” you admitted. 

“Me too,” Joe cringed. “This is a terrible idea, isn’t it? I should let you go home and go to work tomorrow, and we can save this for when I come back.” 

“Or,” you started, then lowered your voice, tangling your finger in the silver chain around his neck. “You can take me home, we don’t fuck, but we can do all of that other stuff anyway.” 

“I could do with a cuddle or two,” Joe mumbled, rubbing his jaw with his hand, jokingly thoughtful. “But you have work tomorrow.” 

“So I’ll call in sick,” you said. “We can spend all day together tomorrow, catching up and everything.” 

“That sounds tempting,” Joe said. “Can we fuck tomorrow, when we’re both sober?” 

“Yes,” you told him. “Now, call a cab, and take me home.” 

It was the same flat that Joe and Wes used to live in. You still remembered your way around and all of the motions you used to go through, setting your purse on the dining table and toeing off your shoes at the door— it even smelled the same as it used to, laundry soap and cigarettes, and you giggled as Joe led you into his bedroom. The things in it had changed, a different bed frame and different photographs and different curtains, but the bed felt the same as you laid on your back, looking up at the same ceiling that you used to. Everything was so different, but so similar, and you watched as Joe shrugged out of his suit jacket and let it crumple to the floor as he went for his belt. At least that hadn’t changed. Your messy little Joey. 

“Joey?” you whispered, and Joe looked at you with big eyes, waiting for you to say more. You wanted to tell him that you loved him, that you had never stopped loving him, that you would always love him, but all that came out was, “You said something about cuddles?” 

“I did,” Joe said softly. “Let me get undressed, love.” 

You sat up and moved over to meet him by the closet door, and you nudged his hands away in favor of your own hands undoing his belt. “Let me…” you mumbled, feeling the buckle loosen, and it fell away in an instant. Joe sighed, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, and he pressed his lips to your forehead as you tugged his belt out of the loops. 

“I missed you,” Joe whispered, and you frowned. 

“I’m so sorry, Joey,” you told him. “I was so stupid, I should have just listened to you.”

“It’s okay,” Joe told you. “At least you came back to me.” 

“I love you,” you whispered, and Joe smoothed down your hair gently. 

“I love you so much,” Joe mumbled. His hand fell from your hair and went to the bottom of your shirt, and he tugged it up and off. You undressed each other with gentle love, stealing kisses and stepping back towards the bed, and you cuddled close into Joe’s warm chest as he laid down next to you. He was left only in his boxers, you in your panties, and his arm went around you, squeezing you for a moment. “Oh, my girl… I never thought I’d get to hold you again.” 

“I’m right here,” you told him, gently kissing his chest. “I’ll never leave again.”

The night passed with comfort, bundled up in Joe’s safe arms. He fell asleep quickly, just like he always used to, and you slept well in his grip. You only woke up at around 7 in the morning, with your phone going off across the room, and you groaned and wiped sleepily at your eyes. Joe was still holding you in a death grip in his sleep, and you pried yourself out of his arms and carefully crossed the room to retrieve your buzzing phone. Your mum was calling. Oh God. 

You slipped out of the bedroom, carefully shutting the door behind you, before you answered the phone. “Hey, Mum,” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself. It was cold, especially with your level of undress, and you went to the small laundry room to try to find a shirt or something. “Why’re you calling me so early?” 

“I was looking at the news as I had my coffee,” your mum began, and you flipped up a t-shirt that was sitting in the dryer. It smelled clean, like Joe, and unwrinkled, and you slipped it up over your head as your mum spoke. “And I saw an interesting article.”

“Oh, yeah?” you asked absently. 

“Yes,” your mum said. “It was a series of pictures of you and that Joseph boy on the street, snogging away without a care in the world.”

“What?” you said sharply. “Where did you see this? Send it to me! There’s a news article about us?” 

“I thought that you and Joseph broke up years ago,” your mum said. You were fully awake now, setting her on speakerphone as you went to Google and searched up Joseph’s name. Just as your mother said, there was a news article, some ratty gossip mag, your picture splayed across the front of the website: WHO IS STRANGER THINGS’S EDDIE DATING? It was a paparazzi picture from last night, of you and Joseph at nightfall, kissing and smiling, and your heart fell deep into your stomach. “Are you back together?” 

“Umm, it’s complicated,” you answered. You could hardly even register the hangover in your skull with the rapid panic of your heartbeat, and you went back into the bedroom to find Joe now awake, squinting as he looked at his phone screen without his contacts in. “Kinda? It-It’s hard to explain.” 

“Did you see—” Joe started to ask, and you frowned as you nodded. “Shit, darling, I didn’t think—”

“Well, explain it,” your mum told you. “Tell me what’s going on.”

You sighed. “Joe and I are back together,” you said. “But he’s leaving the country tomorrow and won’t be back for a while, so it’s a lot more… Casual, than I think either of us want it to be.” 

“But I thought he cheated on you?” your mum asked.

“I can call my publicist and see what we can do about getting this removed,” Joe started. “Do you want me to do that?” 

You felt sick. Everyone talking to you at once, the upset in your chest, an odd feeling of betrayal— it was too much. “Joe, stop, please,” you said quickly. “No, Mum, Joe didn’t cheat on me. I thought he did, but he didn’t. I-I have to go and sort this out, I’m sorry. Bye.” You hung up the phone and sighed, and you sank down onto the bed and covered your face with your hands. 

“Darling?” Joe asked. “What can I do?” 

“I didn’t even think that there would be paparazzi,” you admitted. “I’m so stupid, of course there were paparazzi around…”

“Stop, love, don’t do that,” Joe said quickly. “I should have warned you that it was a possibility. I didn’t think about how… I’m still getting used to being a celebrity, I’m afraid.” 

“Oh, God,” you mumbled. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this. This might be more than I’m cut out for.” 

“No, what?” Joe asked. “Darling, no, don’t say that. Just because we were outed by a trashy website doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t be together. I-I think we were made for each other, don’t let this little thing discourage you.” 

“It’s not a little thing, though!” you said, your voice wavering. “It-It’s a big thing! I was okay living in anonymity, but this is— I was fine not being well known, but you— You’re the most talked-about guy on the planet right now! I’m not sure I’m meant to be Joseph Quinn’s girlfriend, maybe it was good that we broke up before you got super famous.” 

“What do you mean?” Joe asked. He looked hurt, like a little puppy, and he said, “Do you not want this?” 

“I want this more than anything!” you said. “But I’ve only ever had a handful of acting jobs before, I’m a fucking server for God’s sake, I don’t think I’m ready to give that up! Right now, my options are to date you and lose my anonymity, or keep it but lose you!”

Joe sighed, shaking his head. “Well, love, I can’t make that decision for you,” he said. “What do you think is best?” 

You sniffled. “I don’t want to lose you again,” you whimpered. “But I… I don’t know.”

Joe was quiet, and he took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb across your palm, and he finally said, “Let me make some calls and see what I can do about getting those pictures taken down.”

“No,” you sniffled. “Leave them up. I want everyone to know that you’re the man I love. I’m not ashamed of that.” 

Joe nodded quickly. “Darling,” he started. “I don’t want to leave tomorrow if you’re this upset.” 

“I’m not upset,” you told him. “Not anymore. It’s not something that either of us can control, so why bother being upset about it? Or at least I can try to believe that… I don’t want you to leave either.” 

“What if I don’t leave?” Joe asked. “What if I cancelled and stayed here with you?”

“No, you can’t cancel the day before,” you said softly. “I wish there was some way I could… I don’t know, go with you. So that we didn’t have to leave each other right now.” 

Joe’s eyes lit up, and he said, “Actually… There might be a way. When I was first asked to present the award, they asked if I had a date, and I said no, but I wonder if it’s too late to say yes.” 

“The day before?” you cringed. “They’d have to shuffle around so much shit. And so would you. And I don’t have a dress or anything to wear, and I’m awful at doing my makeup—”

“Let me call my team,” Joe asked. “I wonder if Fabio can put something together for you, and my makeup artist might be able to… Don’t count this out, let me call my manager and see what we can do.”

Whether Joe had a silver tongue or what, you had no idea, but, by the time you had called into work to ask for the day (and next few ones) off, you were officially a guest at the MTV Awards. He had managed to secure you a spot— “you may not be sitting next to us, but you’ll be there”— and he was calling his stylist as you slipped out of the flat to go back to yours to pack. You couldn’t remember the last time you had done something spontaneous like this, and your heart thumped when you returned to Joe’s flat, luggage in hand. He was still in his boxers, although now he wore a t-shirt, and he smiled and opened his arms to you. “Tell me I’m the best boyfriend ever,” he said.

“Why?” you asked. 

“My stylist, Fabio, said that he got permission from Valentino to loan him a dress for you last minute,” Joe told you, and you gasped. “I’m wearing Valentino, and now, so are you. I still have to call my makeup artist and see if she can do anything for us, but, baby—“

You jumped forward and hugged Joe tightly, laughing and smiling along with him. It felt like a dream, and you could hardly believe your luck as you pressed your lips to Joe’s. You got to kiss him again. You got to hug him again. You were the luckiest girly in the world. He sighed as he kissed you, gentle and loving, and his lips parted from yours all too soon for your liking. “Let me make more calls,” he whispered, his eyes intensely watching you. You didn’t feel small or inferior under his gaze, only loved, and he kissed your forehead before he parted from the hug. “See what I can do for you.” 

“I love you,” you told him, and Joe’s ears tinged pink as he blushed. “You’re amazing.” 

“I love you too,” Joe said. “I… Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this, but I was… I was in a bad place when you left me. It was… I didn’t eat. I hardly slept. I could only think about how badly I had fucked up.” 

“Stop,” you said, shaking your head. “You did nothing wrong at all. You’re literally the least guilty person in this situation, you did nothing at all, and I was… I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. And I will, for as long as you want me to. I didn’t listen to you or let you speak when it happened, and you were right to, like, cut me off and out and shit, I would have done the same, and you’re remarkable for forgiving me and wanting me back, and then bending over backwards to help me so I can wreck your plans. I don’t deserve you.” 

Joe stepped back close to you, and he wrapped his arms around you and touched his nose against yours. “All I’ve ever wanted is you,” he told you. “And now I have you again.” 

You thought about what Wes had told you, how Joe was so close to proposing all those years ago, and you whispered, “Did you… Keep it?” 

“Keep what?” Joe asked. 

“The ring,” you said, and you swallowed thickly. “Do you still have it?” 

Joe nodded slowly. “I always thought that, one day, I’d have you back to wear it,” he said. “Do you want to see it?” 

“I’d like to wear it this weekend,” you told him, your heart beating up in your throat and nearly choking you. “If that’s okay with you.”

“That’s…” Joe started,, and he scoffed and smiled that movie-star smile. “That’s more than okay. I’d love nothing more. Let me go get it, a-and if you end up hating it, we can find a new one for you.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” you told him, and Joe nearly tripped on himself as he hurried out of the living room and back into his bedroom. You followed him, albeit at a slower pace, and you leaned against the doorframe as you watched him rummage in his closet. He checked the topmost shelf, pushing his hand all the way back to the wall, and he finally closed his fingers around a small box, dragging it out of its hiding spot. The velvet on the outside of the box was a little dusty from eight years in his closet, and he blew on it and gave you a sheepish grin as he handed you the box. 

You cracked it open and was met face to face with a silver diamond ring, not gaudy but big enough for it to be obvious that a large chunk of money went into purchasing it. Your mouth fell open, and you gasped softly at the sight of it, and you frowned instantly. “Joe—”

“Oh, you hate it,” he whispered. “It’s too big, isn’t it? I can get you something smaller.”

“No, no, I love it,” you said quickly. “It’s just… You kept it this whole time?”

“I told you,” Joe said. “I always thought that you’d come back and want to wear it.” 

“Well, you were right,” you chuckled. “Put it on me, darling?” 

Joe stepped forward, and he took the ring box from your hand and carefully lifted the ring from its velvet home. He took your hand in his and carefully slid the ring onto your finger, and you held it out for both of you to admire. “What kinda ring is this?” you asked. “A promise ring, or… More?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” Joe told you. 

“Can I be honest?” you asked, and Joe nodded, and you finally let your thick throat win, and you began to cry. “The thought of you being with any other girls makes me sick. I get so jealous a-and I know it’s not healthy, but I need to be your only one.”

“Have you dated since me?” Joe asked, and you shook your head. “I told you that I’ve been on dating apps, but it… I was chasing something like what you gave me, and I could only find your kind of love with you. I don’t want anybody else’s love, just yours. So… This ring?” 

“I’d marry you in an instant,” you told him, pressing your hands to his cheeks. “My sweet, amazing Joe.”

You helped Joe finish packing that day as he finished his phone calls, securing a makeup artist for you the next night, and he didn’t answer his publicist’s hounding for a response to the articles. Your flight left early in the morning for Santa Monica, and you spent every second with Joe. It felt nice to be surrounded by him again, and, before you slept that night, you gave him a kiss and bundled up in his arms. 

The day felt like a whirlwind. You barely had a second to breathe, and you followed Joe blindly the entire time, holding his hand and letting him take you wherever he needed to. It was good to be able to blindly trust someone again, especially after spending so long apart from each other; the fact that you were able to slip right back into that meant the world to you. Finally, you reached the hotel where preparations were being made for the awards show, and you met Joe’s favorite stylist, Fabio. Fabio was kind and silly, joking all the time and making you feel right at home, and he dressed you in a dark brown dress that complimented Joe’s suit. You smiled, watching your lover get dressed and get confused by the long scarf-like accessory attached to the shirt, and you held him close as his publicist nearly demanded to take pictures by the large window. He buried a kiss in your styled hair, and you grinned as you presented the ring to the camera. It felt special to be able to share your love with everyone now, and, as you held Joe’s hand as you approached the red carpet later that night, you felt like your heart would burst. 

You had to run the gauntlet of photographers and interviewers before you could go inside and escape the sunshine, and Joe held you firmly, cringing in the sunlight but smiling at you. You were very aware of the photographers calling your name, only knowing it because of the most last-minute change to the guest list, and you grinned as best as you could with your professionally-done makeup and soft lipstick smile. Your heart was lodged anxiously in your throat for the entire time (which was really only maybe 5 minutes, but felt like hours), and you sighed as Joe approached the first woman with a microphone. You tried to step away from the camera, to give him the limelight and let the focus be on him, but his arm snaked around your middle and kept you close to him. 

“Mister Joe Quinn!” The interviewer smiled as he approached. “What a sight you are! How’s your night so far?” 

“Oh, God, bless you,” Joe chuckled. “I-It’s alright. Stressful, but good.” 

“And who is this?” she asked, and Joe looked at you with his gaze playful, a look you recognized, even years on.

“This is my wife,” Joe said, and you laughed, squeezing your eyes shut. 

The interviewer grinned at you. “You’re married to the most desired man in the world right now,” she said. “How’s it feel?” 

You stammered over your words as you spoke, acutely aware that whatever you said would be broadcast all over the world. Your few roles had the same effect, but this was something different. “I-I can hardly believe it,” you said. “When I first met Joey, we were kids, and he wasn’t… Watching him grow and mature and become what he’s always dreamt of being, it’s rewarding. I love this cheeky bloke, and I couldn’t be more proud of him.”

“And what do you think of Eddie?” she asked. “Did you like him?”

If you were lying already… “Well, someone didn’t warn me about the ending,” you chuckled. “And that would have been nice.” 

“I told you you’d cry,” Joe scoffed. 

“Well…” you sighed, and you smiled at the interviewer. “I loved Eddie. He’s my favorite thing Joe’s ever done.” 

“So, Joe,” the interviewer said. “What’s next for you?” 

Joe shrugged, pouting his lips. “I’m not too worried about what comes next,” he said. “I’m gonna sit in this sun and bask for a while.” 

You leaned in and softly whispered, “You deserve it.” Joe looked at you with a small smile, and he kissed your cheek softly. 

“Alright, well, you’ve got a long night, so don’t let me keep you too long,” the interviewer said. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too, love,” Joe said kindly, and you smiled and waved at her as you stepped forward towards the next well-dressed interviewer and camera. 

“Wife?” you mumbled through a smile, and Joe nodded. 

“I’m off the market,” Joe shrugged. “Is that so bad?” 

“Not at all,” you said. “I like you being off the market.” 

“Good,” Joe said. “I like you being off the market.”

“My man,” you hummed, and you leaned forward and kissed him. “Thank you. For absolutely everything.” 

“Thank you for giving me someone to give everything to,” Joe said. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

-

taglist: @corrodedarchiv, @faeriemunson14, @steddieloverrr, @wordscomehither, @harley1608, @ellolovely22, @birdysaturne, @freakymunson, @miserybeans, @3rd-conchord

[shadowqueenjude]

For Day 6 of @sjmvillainweek Afterlife

The Trials of Beron Vanserra: read on ao3.

Preview below the cut

Summary:

Beron Vanserra has been killed by his own wife. He has been sent to the afterlife where he will be judged. However, just when he is about to be sent to hell, Beron convinces the judges to give him one chance: survive the Trials, and he can be reborn for another chance at heaven. Should he fail…he goes to hell. And given the main judge is Beron’s own sister who he wronged in life, she is not going to make to easy for him.

When Beron woke up once more, he knew he was no longer in Prythian. In fact, he was no longer alive. It was a strange feeling. He was in a space that resembled the inside of a cloud, looking down at his dead body. His wife (Seraphina) and sons stood over it; all his children aside from the two who were dead. Even Lucien- who may not have been his by blood, but was undoubtedly his- was there, along with his mate, the kingslayer. Seraphina’s hand shook around the bloody knife that she had killed him with. He sensed mixed feelings from everyone around him: anger, peace, sadness, regret.

“You deserved a far worse ending than the one we gave you,” Eris said softly. Of all his children, he had always been the most like him. “But as your family, we granted you mercy.”

And it was- a Fae mercy. A human mind would never understand it, but Beron understood. A twisted part of him was actually proud- proud that his son had mustered the guts to overthrow him after all this time.

Beron Vanserra. I have been waiting for you a long time.

Beron had expected the voice of the Mother- that was what was said they’d meet after death-but it was still jarring to hear her speak in his mind.

Beron stumbled over himself to get in a prostate position. Though she did not speak, Beron could feel her amusement in his mind.

“You bowed to no one in life, yet you bow to me in death? How very strange. But it shall not keep you from meeting your destiny.”

Beron closed his eyes. Now was the moment of truth-to determine whether he’d done the right things in life.

“You shall be judged by the dead,” the Mother continued. “Be ready.”

Then Beron was falling, falling, into an abyss. His screams disappeared as soon as they came, lost to this never ending fall. At last, he landed in a pit, where countless others lay in wait.

“Where are we?” Beron asked.

“In line,” a female voice said coolly. Beron whipped around to give her a piece of his mind when he froze. She didn’t look normal; she was a translucent steely grey mirage, and underneath, her skeleton was visible. Beron tried to focus on the mirage, but he couldn’t help but see the bones.

“A proper answer,” Beron said, but it didn’t have the desired effect. He was still disoriented by the whole being dead thing.

“You’re in the aisle of the Trials,” someone called out. Beron turned towards the sound. “There’s an arena out there. Once you leave this pit and enter the arena, people shall judge whether you were a good or a bad person in life before sending you to Narakaloka or Swargaloka.”

Beron swallowed. “Who are the judges?”

The ghost man gave Beron a horrific smile. “Typically, those amongst the dead who hate you the most.”

Cool. Cool cool cool cool. Sounded like a recipe for a biased trial. “Do I get to defend myself?” Beron asked.

The man sneered. “You can try, but I don’t think anybody can save you from the depths of hell, Beron Vanserra.”

If Beron could pale, he would’ve. As it was, his mind reeled over the fact that this ghost could recognize him in this form. “Who are you?” Beron demanded. The man chuckled. “Me? I’m just a farmer from Autumn. You treat us like shit. But in the realm of the dead, lesser faeries aren’t separated from the High Fae. Oh no, all humans and animals and faeries go to the exact same place. Isn’t that wonderful?”

It was the absolute opposite of wonderful. If he was being judged by commoners, then he was screwed.

The wait was absolute torture. Beron could no longer feel things, but it was still absolute boredom and fear-wracking to wait for so long to stand trial. It was time for him to figure out whether everything he had done in life was worth it. Centuries could’ve passed by and it would’ve felt the same to Beron. At long last, he was the first person in a long line to enter the pit. “Beron Vanserra!” a voice boomed. Filled with nerves, Beron walked into the arena.

The pit where the dead stood trial was not so different from the old Autumn Court arena where blood duels had been held. The stands were polished gold and went up as far as the eye could see. The ground was grainy white sand that somehow Beron knew was satiny soft. As he reached the center of the arena, he could see there were three ancient carved pillars before him, behind each of which a ghost sat.

Beron saw the judges then and knew he was doomed.

They were indistinguishable from any of the other ghosts, yet Beron knew them exactly when he saw them. How could he not? On either side sat his dead sons who he had sent after Lucien. One had been killed by Lucien; the other had been killed by Tamlin.

“Henri. Andre.” Beron’s voice failed him when he saw who sat in the middle. She must have died then, at some point. She had survived their duel, but she had later died, though Beron had no idea when she had died. The woman who had been more a mother to him than his actual mother. The woman who had wiped his tears and cleaned his wounds after his father beat him. The woman who had taught him how to read, how to life a sword, how to use a fire. The woman who had been his best friend. The woman who he had betrayed for power. His biggest regret in life. She had cursed him. She had warned him. And she had been right.

“Vivi,” Beron whispered.

“You have long since lost the right to call me that, Beron,” Violet snarled. His proper name was an insult, for his older sister had never called him anything but Berry before. True, she was only his sister on their mother’s side, but blood had never mattered much between them.

All the pain and regret Beron had tried to wash away in his lifetime returned in earnest in death. Had he still had the ability, he would’ve burst into tears at the sight of his sister. Despite his centuries as a high lord, before her he felt like a baby brother again.

“I know it doesn’t mean anything now, but…I’m sorry,” Beron choked.

“Spare me,” Violet snapped. “I’ve seen how you treat Lucien.”

Lucien, who reminded him of Violet in almost every way. Who was also a bastard child, with that fierce but loving personality. Who had mostly been raised by Eris. Beron couldn’t help but see himself and Violet in those two, had their situations been reversed. It made him love and hate them at the same time that they had the ending that he and Violet had never gotten, even though he had no one to blame for it but himself.

“I’ve seen how you treat your children. Your wife. You are just like Father. Nay, worse. At least father didn’t beat his wife. At least he didn’t treat me like an outcast for most of my life.”

Violet reached a hand towards Beron’s dead sons. They took hers. “Your poor sons never got to meet their aunt. Don’t worry, though. I’ve been taking great care of these two while you were down in the world of the living torturing your remaining family. These two have finally experienced what having a real family is like, and once they finish judging you, they’re free to go and be reborn into the living for a second chance at heaven.”

“That-that’s good,” Beron managed.

“Don’t say that like you care,” Henri snarled. “My mate was pregnant when I died. I never got to meet my daughter.”

Right. Beron forgot he had a grandchild. He had never met her- she was kept well-hidden from him on purpose; it did not help that Nora, the mother of the child, was Helion’s daughter. It seemed he and Helion were destined to be connected forever; they shared a lady and a grandchild? Now this was getting ridiculous.

“I’m sorry,” Beron repeated. Those two words felt feeble and worthless, but he had to try.

“No,” Henri retorted, “But you will be.”