#||And good luck to everyone who plans to pull for the second half of the phase

[husbandhoshi]

title: ghosted pairing: seungcheol x f!reader wc: 6.1k, mature/18+ only! tags: based on this drabble. porn with a considerable amount of plot, fwb to lovers, rich guy!cheol, yn is able to be picked up. horrible terrible excessive amounts of fluff. smut tags below the cut. everyone say thank you to @wuahae for reading this over :)

smut tags: softdom!cheol, unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), spanking/biting, yn has hair that can get pulled, mild ass play, boob stuff, fingers in mouth.

--

you think you have seungcheol's number memorized.

well, you definitely should have by now, with how many times you considered deleting it. instead you ended up changing his contact name, first to seungcheol club, which is where you met him. second time--rebound guy. the third iteration, your roommate had made it DO NOT TEXT, and you had left it like that because she was probably right anyway.

for better or for worse, you are not very good at following instructions. you're two and a half weeks fresh off of a heart-to-heart with your friends where you agreed that no, the best way to get over your ex was to not get under somebody else, and yes, you should absolutely stop sleeping with a guy who brags about being a playboy.

so you deleted his number and your text history, and everyone swore up and down that this was a good thing.

and you're sure you were on the same page as them until about five minutes ago, when you were doing your laundry and you had come across one of his white button-up shirts.

(he let you keep it because he said you looked better in it than he did. that morning, before you left his place, he had buttoned it all the way up for you--don't want anyone else looking at you the way i do, he had said. plus, the amount of hickies he had left behind were in no way presentable to the general public.)

the effect this has on you is instantaneous and humiliating.

"fuck. fuck," you groan, now scrolling through your camera roll to look for literally any screenshot with his number in it.

there's one from back when he was rebound guy--he had sent you ten dollars in apple cash so you could buy a coffee when you said you were too tired to fuck. you ended up coming over that night anyway, and you both watched four hours of law and order until you fell asleep on his couch.

there are a handful from when DO NOT TEXT had sexted you in the middle of the workday, which you kept for posterity and nights alone with your vibrator.

and then, finally, a few weeks before that, when things were simple and he was just an unsaved number in your phone--hey, i know you ran out this morning, but i wanted to let you know i had a great time last night, if you know what i mean. even with the winky face emoji, it was a strangely wholesome text from a first time hookup.

you favorite the screenshot and curse the fact that you have never had good impulse control.

you up? i miss you.

the words fly so fast out of your fingers, you have no time to consider whether or not this is a good idea. you vividly recall the time he told you he had never seen the point of putting a label on a relationship, which was the whole reason your friends staged an intervention in the first place.

still, the white shirt on your bed taunts you. even thinking about it makes your head spin.

yeah. let me send you an uber.

that too--he had money, and he wasn't ashamed to spend it on you. between that and the dick, you don't think you're willing to squander your luck.

besides, seungcheol is still rebound guy. you're still getting over your ex, and he's just a quick fix in the meantime. you tell yourself this, and you keep telling yourself this until you're out the door, without a second chance to tell yourself otherwise.

--

"can't go long without getting your back blown out, huh?"

this is the first thing seungcheol says to you, oblivious to the fact that you were planning on forever ghosting him less than an hour ago.

"as if you didn't answer my text almost immediately," you laugh, letting him help you take your coat off.

"never said i wasn't happy to provide," he replies. his gaze is hot, sticky, like he's forgotten what you've looked like already. "i think it's been almost a month. i thought you got tired of me or something, you know."

"of course not. i...i got busy."

it's a half lie. the other half? you wouldn't dare admit it, but you missed his apartment a little. partly because it's much nicer than your own, but the bachelor pad decor was starting to grow on you. (and maybe the bachelor, with it.)

"work was good today?" you ask, letting him draw you in by the waist. his hands are so warm as he draws them up and down your sides, underneath the cotton of the thin shirt you have on.

"oh, please," seungcheol says, his grin now hovering right over your lips. "don't play innocent. you didn't come here so i could talk about my job."

he's right, so you let him kiss you. it's hot and fast and it tastes like his twenty dollar mouthwash, which you take small pride in because it means he would have been sleeping if his hand wasn't on your ass right now.

seungcheol has never been slow nor patient. your shirt has come off, and he now thumbs at the waistband of your jeans, grasping at the button to undo them.

"i don't think i even know what you look like with pants on," he says, lips dragging against the shell of your ear. "you always dress up when you come here, and it all ends up on the floor. pity."

you feel all the heat in your body surge towards your core. somehow your jeans are already on the floor and seungcheol's palm is fanned over the thin lace of your panties.

"thought about me the whole way here, huh?" two fingers are meanly sat over the seam of your cunt, pressing the damp fabric to your skin. "let yourself get all wet for me on the car ride?"

"maybe," you manage, not wanting to betray the embarrassment in your voice. you don't need his hand there to know how wet you are, and yet you know he's doing it to tease you anyway. he finds the bump of your clit over the fabric, now clingy and warm over your skin, and runs his thumb over it. "what else was i supposed to think about?"

"no need to be shy. can't lie with such a needy pussy." he chuckles as your thighs squeeze helplessly around him. "it's cute."

before you can protest, he pushes your panties to the side, now undoubtably soaked through, and his fingers find your clit again. it just takes two, three, rough strokes to draw the pleasure out of you like a fire in your belly.

"cheol," you whine. somehow things always end up like this--you, almost fully naked, and him, still with all his clothes on. he likes reminding you of it too, now enjoying the way you press against him, searching for skin. instead, you feel his cock under his sweatpants, right up against your thigh, and it only turns you on further.

your hands find his waist, but between the new welt he's sucked into your neck and the paralyzing feeling of his thumb on your clit again and again, you falter. your fingertips hover on the downy hair peeking over the band of his sweats, and you've never ached more to have him inside you.

that's all seungcheol needs to yank you back in line. "bed. now," he says, and you listen.

his apartment is big, and the walk feels dizzying as he follows behind you. what's even worse is that you can feel his eyes rake over you--he loves it. the humiliating stumble of your two left feet, the glistening slick at the apex of your thighs, how your panties cling to your ass, now ruined.

even now, as you clamber onto the bed like you're learning to use your limbs for the first time, he loves how easy you are for him. but you can't help it--no one fucks you as good as he does, and that was the reason he was rebound guy in the first place.

"face me," is his next command. at the foot of the bed, first, he pulls off his shirt, and your eyes wander first to his chest, then to the trail he's got down his stomach, teasing you as he pushes down his sweats.

one of his hands, strong and veiny, disappears under his waistband to play with his cock. you watch the slow flick of his wrist and see the shape of his length underneath the fabric, and you almost start salivating.

you're sure he's punishing you by now.

"you're staring, pretty girl. use your words." a turn of his wrist, and he groans. he might just make himself cum like this, and the notion that it wouldn't be somewhere inside you absolutely shatters the last bit of pride you had left.

"need you in my mouth, cheol," you whine, now sitting up straight against the headboard, as if looking any more pitiful would persuade him to join you.

and he does, just not in the way you want him to. instead, you watch his sweats fall to the ground before he kneels on the edge of the bed, on the end furthest from you.

"what, you think i'm gonna give it to you easy? after you made me wait for you?" you are not thinking straight enough to decipher what this means. who knew ghosting a fuckboy would have actual consequences, but you watch his grip tighten around the fat base of his cock and decide this is not the time to play detective.

so you swallow your pride and all your questions and you crawl. you crawl all the way down the seemingly endless length of his king sized bed, feeling seungcheol's gaze swallow you whole, and you like it.

when you stop at the foot of the bed, you take pause to look at seungcheol, really look at him. his eyes are dark, almost unrecognizably so--maybe it's the way you so readily make yourself perfect for him, arching your back just how he likes and letting your swollen, wet mouth fall open like you've never wanted anything more than him.

"so pretty like this," he coos. he runs a thumb over your bottom lip, feeling it quiver under his skin. you feel the saliva pooling in your mouth; it's as humiliating as it is desperate but you can't help yourself. it feels so good to be touched, and seungcheol's clings to you like nothing else.

he pushes his fingers into your mouth, almost to the back so you choke. you're at the point where you'll take anything, so you suck. you let your tongue run all over the digits, long and calloused enough that you can only dream of having them inside the other half of you. he pushes onto your tongue, wanting you to taste him, and you whimper, the feeling harsh but not unwelcome.

"dumb mouth just needs something in it, huh? my girl will just suck anything?"

you can't talk, so you whine around his fingers, feeling your pussy clench around nothing. he's been playing with his cock with his free hand, forcing you to watch him trace every vein with his own skin instead of yours. you hollow out your cheeks and suck him nice and tight, trying to fool yourself otherwise.

then he laughs, low and quiet--as fun as it is to slut you out, he's never been patient. "open wide, darling." he slides his fingers out from your mouth before pulling your hair out of the way. thank you, you want to say, but it's quickly washed away by the shock of his cock between your lips, rough but never too much so.

god, you didn't even think you liked sucking dick that much, but sleeping with seungcheol for this long must have altered your brain chemistry for the worse. his familiar, heavy warmth sits on your tongue, and you can't help but moan around him. you love the stretch of your jaw, the way his eyes always wrench shut no matter how in control he is.

"fuck," he groans, carding a hand through his hair. "slutty little mouth's made for me."

you hum around him, taking him all the way to where your nose skims the dewy curls on his abdomen and all you know is the scent of his heat. you're drooling so much, thanks to all the fingers in your mouth not too long ago, but you don't care. you run your tongue on the veiny underside of his cock, back and forth, savoring the hurt in your cheeks and all the spit on your chin.

seungcheol makes a low-pitched, strangled noise, the first time you've seen him crack tonight, and it sends another gushy wave of heat to your cunt.

you toy with his slit, let the salt of his precum fill your mouth, and suck hard around his cockhead. your scalp stings wonderfully with how he pulls at your hair, and you lean into the feeling. a deep breath through your nose, and you sink down again. the way he hits the back of your throat makes you yelp pitifully, but you persist like a dog to a bone. again, again, and you're gagging on your own spit as your throat spasms around him and you go cross-eyed.

he's all about control, but he lets you have this--perhaps he likes seeing you give yourself to him without him asking. he doesn't have to lift a finger, and you'll still choke around him, bruise your own throat. surely that had to mean something, but you'll chalk it up to some astrological sexual compatibility you're unaware of at the moment.

"enough," seungcheol finally says, voice gravelly, and he pulls you off him by the hair. "fuck, you probably would've cummed from that alone, huh?"

meanly, he reaches over your back to grab at the strings of your underwear so it digs into your cunt. you cry out, feeling the warmth of arousal leak all over your twitching hole, even between your ass. he's right--any more, and you really might have cummed all over yourself.

" 'm so wet, cheol," you plead, toes curling as he pulls the elastic of your panties further back. "please, please, please."

he releases the band, and it snaps hard against your skin. it feels like electricity as it connects with you, and you cry out again, the noise high-pitched and whoreish.

"gonna need you to face the other way if you want me to fuck you, darling," he says. "my baby likes it best from behind, right?"

you have nothing left in you but insatiable desire. you turn around to face the headboard, still on your hands and knees. seungcheol runs a careful hand down the curve of your spine before landing a hard slap on your ass. your skin sings, and all the blood in your body feels like it's been turned to fire.

"cheol," you warble, pressing your face into the sheets. your pussy actually hurts from how neglected it is, and when the second slap comes down, your clit aches like a bruise. "need you so bad...can't believe i went so long without you."

the words just fall out of you but you think they're true regardless. you were really fooling yourself thinking you could go the rest of your life without this. somewhere deep inside you, in the working part of your brain, you wonder if he's come to the same conclusion. that underneath the show, all the greed and the meanness, he missed you too.

"you must really need to get fucked," seungcheol chuckles. "you've never been this nice to me."

"not true," you protest, muffled by the sheets, and he laughs again. then he peels your underwear down your thighs before spreading your ass underneath his palms, and the cool air makes you twitch under him.

"you smell so fucking good. fuck." he groans, low and desirous, and it's the last thing you register before you feel the swell of his nose, his lips, as he buries his face in your cunt.

it's all too much at once--it rips a squeal out from your chest, one of those slutty, loud ones he loves, and it spurs him on further. you feel the wet pressure of his tongue, first between your folds, then up to the tight ring of your asshole, still messy with your arousal.

"o-oh my god," you cry. the pressure in your belly is now wound tight; you're so, so close and he's barely even started. he seems to know this, and deprives you of his mouth in lieu of his two fingers. the change in sensation is instant and toe-curling. something, anything, is finally inside you, and it's better than anything you have ever known. he drags the pads of his fingers brutally over your g-spot, loving the way you cry and tremble beneath him as your orgasm builds.

"have you had enough, pretty girl?" seungcheol asks, voice cruel, teasing. it's a rhetorical question--before you know it, his fingers are gone, and you instead feel the length of his cock between the curve of your ass. he's got a hand between your shoulder blades, pinning you down, just so he can see you struggle to push yourself against him.

"n-no," you reply, voice catching in your throat. you feel the head of his cock against your slit, and your thighs tremble with anticipation. not good enough. it only takes him a few times, rocking against your cunt, for you to crumble. you ask for things you can't even remember, and it's then when he pushes into you, so meanly you really do forget what words mean.

seungcheol swears under his breath, and his grip on your ass feels tight enough to bruise. your cunt flutters around him, god, you forgot how fucking big he is, but he doesn't give you much time to get used to it. his pace is unforgiving, and his hips slam into your ass like he's trying to fuck the sound out of you.

"cheol," you hiccup, listening to your voice jolt with every thrust. " 'm so full...."

"yeah? you like how i fill you up?" he squeezes your ass hard, and you moan into the sheets. "better than anyone else?"

"o-only you," you reply, slack-jawed at the feeling of being split open so well and the delicious, unending drag of him against your walls. "just you."

this seems to satisfy him. he enters you, deeper still, until it feels like he's in your stomach.

"so fucking tight," he says, from somewhere deep in his chest. "you need me to stretch you out like this every once in a while, yeah? you take it so well, pretty girl."

all you can do is moan his name. it's what you've been doing, and at this point, it's the only word you know. he bottoms out again, and the pleasure is so white-hot it feels like it burns.

it only takes two, three, punches into your cunt for you to come undone. you're gushing, gushing around him, babbling something incoherent, and still he is unrelenting. you feel your mouth move in an attempt to tell him you're too sensitive, and he only shoves his cock deeper in you so he can feel you clench hard around it.

then he pushes your head into the sheets, deeper still so the neighbors won't write him up in the morning, and fucks you again. you foolishly think another orgasm will break you, but all it takes is for him to press his thumb into the dip of your asshole and tell you he's going to fuck you in both holes one day for you to fall apart again.

by the time he's done with you, your legs feel boneless and you don't even want to think about the situation between them. (you had asked him to cum in you, and he did. there was so much, he had to push some back into you with his fingers, and you cummed one more time.)

you feel seungcheol's dead weight slump onto the bed beside you. you're still face-down, but you turn as far as you can to look at him. it's unfair how he still looks good now--his bangs, dark and curly with sweat, crown his forehead, and you watch his long eyelashes flutter shut.

"fuck," he groans. "how does every time with you get better?"

somewhere inside you, in the parts that still work, you feel a small gleam of pride. it feels traitorous, in a way--the whole point of being friends with benefits was that it was supposed to be conditional, but you're running out of conditions. clearly, it didn't take much for you to come back and not regret it.

seungcheol laughs at your silence. "did i break you? no," he jokingly whines, and he rolls onto his side to return your gaze. he brings a hand up to brush the hair out of your eyes, as if that would somehow magically repair your body. but it does feel nice. "please speak."

"maybe broken. to be determined." seungcheol grins stupidly when you say this, and you watch how his eyes crinkle up at the sides.

usually, it's every man for himself at this point in the night. seungcheol will order takeout and draft some emails, and you hobble over to the bathroom so you can pee and use the shower. he leaves you alone for this part, which is the perfect opportunity to mix all his fancy shower gels together like you're a kid again.

but today seems different. you lie there for a beat in silence, watching each other blink. then seungcheol gets up, slowly then all at once, and walks over to your wrung-out body.

"i'm picking you up," he says, like a warning. "hopefully you're not afraid of heights."

you think he's joking until you feel the strong cords of his forearms--one around your middle and the other under your legs. you didn't even think you were able to be picked up at this point in your life, but somehow he's got you flush against his chest now, almost nose to nose with him.

"wait," you waver, suddenly feeling self conscious about literally everything. you're sticky and smelly and you're not curious to find out if your post-coital form will scare him away. "seungcheol."

"you really plan on walking yourself over to the bathroom? you couldn't make it to the bedroom earlier, and i hadn't even fucked you yet."

"hey!" you protest. he laughs, and you can feel his whole body shake. "wait, i can't laugh too much, or i'm gonna start leaking."

"you've got another thing coming if you think i'm afraid of a little body fluid."

seungcheol bumps the bathroom door open with his ass, which is somehow the funniest and most endearing thing to you. you flip on the light, and he sets you on the counter like it's just a normal friday night for the both of you.

he turns the shower on and turns back to look at you. "how hot do you want it?" then his eyes narrow playfully. "are you one of those freaks who likes getting their skin boiled off?"

"well, you can answer the first half of that question on your own."

"ok. freak."

while he messes with the shower knobs (he's got one of those showers with three separate showerheads), you take a moment to do some more snooping. the first time you were here, you did go through the various things he had on his counter. most of them are still there--the overpriced moisturizer you shamelessly use when you stay the night, a quarter-full bath and body works foaming soap, and a folded up hand towel with his initials on it.

there are some newer additions too. you don't miss how the little jar for your toothbrush is still there, or a small tube of lip gloss you had forgotten to take back a few months ago. he restocked the hand lotion that you said you liked, too.

you're starting to think that there is a small possibility that you are no longer friends with benefits. you're not dating either, but something somewhere in the middle. but how do you say something like that? how would you know, especially when seungcheol is a self-proclaimed forever bachelor who may never, ever date?

you have no time to think about this any further.

"sooo," seungcheol hums, wiping his hands with a bath towel. "i'll be in the bedroom. you want me to order chinese?" you watch him linger around, lamely, like a stray dog.

"wanna join me?"

he smiles, ear to ear.

"thought you'd never ask."

--

morning comes slowly.

you wake to birdsong and the quiet chatter of the city beneath you. the sun from the curtains is buttery and warm on your bare skin, and time seems to drag its feet. it feels perfect, which is a word you would have never used in relation to any of this, and yet nothing else seems more appropriate.

last night, after your shower (in which you learned that seungcheol always makes his hair into a shampoo mohawk, without fail), you talked for hours over the fattest spread of takeout you had ever seen.

the plan was to put on the office and dissociate like usual, but he finally answered your question about how his day at work was. (tumultuous and drama-filled--that was his first mistake. you love drama.) strangely, by the end of the night, you learned that you had more in common than you thought with a man whose watch collection was valued higher than your entire college education.

"you up?" seungcheol's morning voice comes out sounding like a croak from behind you. you're sure he's about to complain that his arm is asleep from your big head on it, but he doesn't. instead, he settles deeper into your warmth and pulls you closer by the waist.

"yeah," you reply, enjoying the feeling of his skin against your own.

you grab your phone from the nightstand, wondering if your roommate has discovered your betrayal and has blown up your phone. she has, so the two voice memos and twenty text messages in the group chat are no surprise to you.

what is a surprise is the text you get from your ex. can we talk? it reads. it's the first time you've heard from him in months--before that, he had broken up with you (over text) and then proceeded to block you on every platform possible.

your mind starts to spin. you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to text him back. just for closure's sake, you tell yourself, as if you haven't cried at least seven separate times about this. but you will admit, seungcheol has been a great diversion. you don't remember the last time you had a cry, and any progress was good progress to you.

complicating things, said diversion has slotted a leg between yours, and his hand has found its way to your ribcage, distractingly close to your chest. such are the consequences of only wearing a shirt to bed.

"you're so warm," he murmurs, right in the space where your neck meets your shoulder. his hand creeps up, now right over your heartbeat. it doesn't really take much for your body to respond--his fingertips find your nipple, and with a light squeeze, you're already arching back into him. "is this ok?"

"yeah," you breathe. you're distracted, but you figure the best way to un-distract yourself is with a new, better distraction.

now emboldened, he rolls the skin between his fingers, finding he loves the way you shudder underneath him. quickly, he moves out from behind you to hover over you instead, propping himself up by his forearms, and pushes your shirt up over the swell of your tits.

"you good?" seungcheol asks, lips flush to the skin over your heart. he presses another wet kiss to one of your nipples before taking it into his mouth.

"yeah, why?" you have half a mind to hold his head down so he can't ask more questions and ruin the point of being a distraction in the first place.

"dunno." he switches to the other side, licking over a mark he's bitten into your skin. "you looked at your phone and you seemed worried. also, you're frowning, and it's not a sex frown."

damn. you guess you're easier to read than you thought. you don't even have the heart to ask what the fuck a sex frown looks like.

seungcheol's mouth returns to your nipple, and he sucks hard, making you gasp into your palm.

"my ex," you tell him. there's no point in keeping it a secret. the first time you slept together, you had made it clear what your intentions were, which is what made this arrangement work so well in the first place. "he wants to talk or something."

"that asshole?" then another suck, and you keen into him. "you're too good for him."

it's literally one of the three appropriate responses he could have chosen from, but it still feels like a compliment to you. almost too much so.

"yeah. i guess." your voice sounds more wobbly than you'd like, but you chalk it up to the fact that he's now pressing his lips down your middle, all the way down to your core. "hey, i'm ticklish."

"i know." he kisses your belly button, and you smile in spite of yourself. "you smell good, by the way."

"it's your forty dollar body wash," you remind him.

"damn right it is." you feel his breath fan over your thighs, and your stomach flips with anticipation. "legs over my shoulders. you know the drill."

"you don't have to do this, you know," you say, before immediately regretting it. you have a spectacular knack of self-sabotage, which you think seungcheol knows by this point. "you've been really nice to me."

"am i not allowed to like being nice to you?" seungcheol jokes. "would you prefer me to be mean?"

"no," you laugh. you don't know how to ask what he meant. what made yesterday and today so different? it feels like you're on the edge of something, coming close to what you could only describe as more than casual affection, more than desire. "go back to being nice. forget i said anything."

you put your legs over his shoulders, like he asked. one good orgasm wouldn't solve the ex problem or this new seungcheol problem you are starting to discover, but it sure would help you think more clearly.

his lips are soft on you. he has none of the urgency or greed of yesterday; instead, he takes his time with you. his mouth skims over your inner thighs, lightly, drawing out all the breath from your lungs. you make a small noise of impatience, and you feel the stretch of his grin against you.

before you have a second chance to complain, you feel the heat of his open mouth over your cunt, as to drink your taste up. then his tongue, warm, insistent, on your clit, circling it before he sucks.

"o-oh, fuck," you whine, voice muffled by the back of your hand. it feels too early to be loud, and you're already embarrassed by how sensitive you are.

"don't text him back," seungcheol says. he's replaced his mouth with two fingers, now leisurely teasing you at your entrance.

"don't worry--" you manage to say this before he crooks the pads of his fingers into you, right at your sweet spot, and the words are stolen from you. "--about him."

"i'm serious." he laps at your cunt, and with his fingers still buried in you, the feeling makes you dizzy. "did he ever make you feel like this?"

"n-no," you whine, now with your palm shoved right against your mouth. he's added a third finger now, and the stretch is so good, you're going cross-eyed. "never ate me out."

"what?" you hear him tsk between your thighs as his fingers still. "he's missing out."

it's then that seungcheol must have resolved to give you the best head of your life, because you think you black out after that point.

his lips return to your clit, and the pleasure is so startling, you can feel your thighs squeeze shut around his head. unfazed, he continues to pump his fingers in and out of your hole, still fluttering, unused to the size.

"close, 'm so close," you mewl, hips now lifted to chase his tongue. he indulges you, gives you the flat of the muscle to grind against as he stuffs you full.

your other hand finds his hair, and it only takes a moment, a slight pull, for him to moan into your heat--the sound breaks something inside you, and you're gasping, crying out with your high. by now, there are marks from your teeth in your palm, but something about the sting only makes the feeling better.

seungcheol stays sealed to your cunt, removing his fingers only to replace them with his mouth, eager to taste you. he lingers until you're shaking and whimpering, spent from your orgasm and too sensitive to endure another.

he looks up at you, swollen lips and bedhead made worse, and a surge of affection overtakes you.

"kiss me," you tell him, and he does.

it's long, and it's slow, not even close to any of the ones you've had before. you wrap a hand around the back of his neck, and he sighs. you don't think he's ever done that before.

when he pulls back to look at you, it feels as though the air has changed. there are words pushing at your lips. this isn't casual anymore. it can't be, not with what just happened.

yeah, the sex is good, but the first thing you thought of this morning wasn't you or your saturday plans or how to endure the dismay of your entire friend group, it was about him. if didn't count for something, you don't know what did.

"seungcheol, i--" you pause. his eyes are so brown, it's distracting you, and you start to second guess yourself.

"is it about your ex?" he interrupts. "if he asked you to get back with him, would you?"

it's not his question, but his insistence that takes you by surprise.

"n-no." you watch his gaze flicker at your hesitance, and you don't like it. "no, i wouldn't."

"good, because--" he pauses, seeming to gather his thoughts. you try to read his expression, but he can't even meet your eyes right now. "look, i know i haven't had the best track record with dating. i don't even think i know how to date."

"what are you saying?" you ask softly. there's a part of your heart that feels like it's peeling itself back, in a good way.

"i'm saying i want to try." and when you still look confused, he continues. "dating you. if you'd let me."

against all odds, past all the swirling, terrible emotions in your chest, there's a bright surge of relief, of joy. the last time you saw him look so vulnerable was when he reached into his oven to pull out a tray of cookies and burned his hand because he forgot a glove. maybe this whole thing would crash and burn, but you like him enough (honestly more than enough) to try with him.

so you smile, and you watch him frown and pout and look unbearably terrified, and you smile harder.

"ok," you say, playfully feigning indifference. "you can try."

instead of replying, he kisses you again, and it's even better than the first one.

when you finally head out that morning, there's a lightness in your chest.

in the doorway, seungcheol pecks the top of your head before showing you his phone. "which emoji do you want?" he asks, completely seriously. "i want the blue heart."

you pull out your phone to find his contact, which still shows his plain number, just like old times.

"i'm unsaved?!" his jaw drops open like he's animated, and you laugh.

"gotta go," you tease. "see you later."

it's only in the uber home (that he called for you, of course), where you finally put in his real, government name, for the first time. finally, it feels a little more right.

choi seungcheol, it reads. with the blue heart.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Lonely in Misery

Requested Here!

Part 2 Here: Lonelier in Misery

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!paramedic!reader

Summary: Bailey notices that you're lonely and miserable while Nolan notices the same about Tim. They decide to set you up on a blind date, but it only ends with more sadness.

Warnings: mention of motorcycle accident, pure fluff (the title and summary are misleading, my bad)

Word Count: 2.0k+ words

A/N: @newobsessionweekly here's some soft Tim if you're interested🥰

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Let’s go!” your chief calls. “Motorcycle accident on Wilshire.”

You nod as you gather your equipment. Being a paramedic is stressful, but you work with an amazing team. It’s too bad you don’t have the same kind of community in your personal life. Working with your best friends is great until you can’t hang out or talk to anyone because they’re on different shifts.

“Single rider?” you ask as you climb into the ambulance.

“Dispatch didn’t say. Only called for one ambulance, so I assume,” your chief replies.

“Hey, maybe it’ll be a single guy and you can nurse him back to health and finally get a date,” your teammate in the driver’s seat jokes.

“Ignore him,” Bailey says, rolling her eyes.

“Ignore who?” you tease.

As the BLS rescue ambulance pulls out, you sit back in your seat.

“Are you okay?” Bailey asks softly.

“Fine,” you reply. “Just… I don’t know.”

“I get it. We, uh, we haven’t been able to hang out in a while. What have you been up to?”

“Nothing. Work, eat, workout, sleep, repeat.”

“Yeah, you’ve been kind of mopey.” She reaches her hand toward you and smiles when you lay your hand in hers. “This job is hard enough without being lonely. Why don’t you go on a date or just go hang out somewhere, meet somebody?”

You shake your head and brush off her concern with a half-true promise, “I’ll be fine. I’m looking forward to when our schedules give us time to be friends again. If I can get out away from Nolan, of course.”

Bailey smiles and rolls her eyes but squeezes your hand reassuringly. You know she isn’t convinced that you’re fine. Your job is more important, though, so you decide to focus on the motorcycle rider who needs your help rather than the empty home, the empty life you’ll go home to after your shift ends.

“Hey!” Tim yells harshly. “Socialize on your own time, boot!”

His new rookie ducks his head and walks quickly after abandoning his conversation. Tim has been grumpier than usual lately, and he’s taking it out on everyone in the station. When he yelled at Sergeant Grey, who only shook his head and told Tim to take a breather, Nolan knew what was happening.

“He’s lonely, right?” Nolan asks Angela.

“Incredibly,” she answers without hesitation. “It’s been worse, though, so his sports buddies must have gotten busy, married, something.”

Nolan nods. He has an idea, but he knows better than to suggest Tim go on a date where he could overhear or be told. As he walks toward his shop, Nolan makes a mental note to ask Bailey if she knows anyone who would be willing to go on a date with Mid-Wilshire’s resident grump.

“Do I look like I care about your engagement party?” Tim asks across the garage.

“Hey,” Nolan says as he walks into the house.

“Hi,” Bailey replies.

Nolan hugs Bailey and sighs against her.

“I need your help with something,” Bailey says.

“Anything,” Nolan replies as he steps back. “But I need a favor, too.”

“My best friend is lonely and needs a date.”

Nolan’s brows raise as he adds, “My coworker is lonely and needs a date.”

“Did we just plan a blind date in under thirty seconds? Are we really that good?”

“Depends. Is your friend interested in someone like Tim Bradford?”

Bailey considers the pairing for a moment but smiles as she pictures you balancing Tim and him providing an edge that you haven’t experienced in years.

“Oh, yeah,” Bailey decides. “She’ll be interested.”

“Great! Now I just have to convince him to actually go on the date,” Nolan muses.

“Good luck.” Bailey laughs before she realizes, “I have to get her to let me set her up too.”

“Well, if she’s anything like Tim, appeal to her misery.”

“Yeah, because it’s better than absolutely nothing and complete unhappiness is the perfect way to pitch a date,” Bailey scoffs. “I’ll get my friend there, and you convince Tim your way.”

“I hope this works,” they say together.

“What’d you do last night?” Bailey asks as you exit the locker room.

You step back in surprise at being ambushed the moment you arrive but recover quickly. “I made dinner, watched a movie, and went to bed. Why?”

“Because you’ve got a date tonight, so we’re switching it up.”

“Bailey,” you begin.

“No, no, hear me out before you decline. Please? I’m doing this as your best friend, I promise.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “Pitch this guy. But, Bailey Nune, if you say it’s Nolan’s brother Pete I will find a new best friend.”

“Oh, no. I love you, I would never do that. Besides, the whole point of a blind date is that I don’t tell you the guy’s name. But…” She raises her finger to emphasize as she adds, “Nolan and I both know him well and he’s a great guy.”

“You’re gonna have to give me more. I don’t want to go on a date just to say that I didn’t spend another night alone, Bailey.”

“Completely. I know you, though, okay, and this guy he’s- he can do and be everything you want. The romance, the connection, the best friend that is also your life partner, what you are looking for in a guy, this is it. I promise. And, if I’m wrong, I’ll bail you out of the date and I will clean your equipment for the rest of the month.”

You purse your lips as you think about her offer. She does know exactly what you want in a man, and you trust Bailey’s judgement. “Fine. I’ll go on the date.”

“Yes!” Bailey cheers as she hugs you. “I’m so glad. You’ll feel so much better after you’re not miserable and lonely anymore.”

“You should’ve been a motivational speaker,” you deadpan. “Now don’t mention it again until we get off. This can’t be the topic of conversation for the rest of the day; I’ll never live it down.”

“I’ll stay quiet and think of the perfect outfit for you,” Bailey says as she follows you into the heart of the station.

“Officer Bradford,” Nolan calls as he walks across the bullpen.

“Yeah?” Tim asks.

“I’ve got a proposition for you. Or a question, idea, whatever you want to call it.”

“Then spit it out, Nolan.”

“Right, yes, sir. Bailey has a single friend, and we want to set you up on a blind date.”

Tim’s face remains impassive as he shakes his head. “Pass. Ask Aaron.”

“No, Tim, I’m asking you.”

“And I’m not interested,” Tim argues.

“Look, you’re lonely and miserable, so you’re making all of us miserable. I know you – sort of – and I know this woman. She could be really good for you.”

“If you’re wrong? Because I think you are.”

“Then leave the date! You’re not losing anything more than a few hours.”

Tim takes a deep breath before he asks, “Why do you think she’d be good for me?”

“She can be the balance that you need, and she understands some of what we deal with daily.”

“Don’t tell me she’s a lawyer.”

“Oh, no, I know better than that. So… is that a yes?”

“It’s a hesitant yes,” Tim answers. “When?”

“Tonight.”

Tim nods once before he walks away to reprimand a rookie. Nolan watches him yell and hopes that he and Bailey are right. Because if they’re wrong and the date goes poorly, Tim will be worse in the morning.

You sit in the front of the restaurant and await your date. Bailey said he’d arrive after you. She never explained how you were supposed to find each other, though. As you watch people come and go, you grow discouraged. You shift your attention from the door to your hands. Several minutes pass before the door opens again, and you look up but don’t expect anything.

“Tim?” you ask.

You’ve seen Tim Bradford several times in passing. At wrecks, crime scenes, and various Los Angeles law enforcement meetings. He’s always been kind to you, and you remember that you may have mentioned finding him attractive to Bailey before.

“I’ll assume you’re my blind date, then,” Tim replies. He smiles as he adds, “I’m not as disappointed as I expected to be.”

“Wow,” you say through laughter. “If I’d known you were such a flirt, I would’ve asked Bailey to set us up sooner.”

Tim shakes his head, and you join his side as he gives his name to the hostess. As you walk to the table, a sudden awkwardness descends. There’s no good way to begin a conversation on a blind date, you realize. Tim taps his hand against the menu but looks similarly lost about what to say.

“I guess being lonely and desperate worked in my favor,” you joke.

“Oh, I can guarantee that I was lonelier and more desperate,” Tim replies. “Nolan used that to convince me to come tonight; said I was making everyone else miserable with my misery.”

The mood lightens with your playful jokes, and you smile at Tim.

“Since you’ve had to pull an arson suspect off me before, should we skip the small talk?” you ask Tim over your menu. “Or do this the normal way?”

“There’s nothing normal about this,” Tim comments.

Your phone buzzes in your bag, but the Are you still miserable? text from Bailey goes unread.

“Okay, I hate this,” you murmur as you set the menu aside. “Can I just sit beside you?”

Tim’s smile grows as he stands and offers his hand. Once you’re seated beside him, where you don’t have to lean across the table to talk, you don’t even remember the miserable feeling that led Bailey to set this date up.

Tim leans over to whisper, “I’m glad I agreed to the date,” and you move closer to him as you answer, “Me too.”

As you walk out of the restaurant with your hand in Tim’s and a joyful smile on your face, you don’t want the night to end.

“Same time next week?” you ask as Tim slows.

“What about the same time another day this week?” he suggests. “I had a great time, and I want to go out again. If that’s what you want, of course.”

You pull your phone out and hand it to Tim, ignoring Bailey’s text. He puts his number in and texts himself, so he has your number, too. You grow giddy, something you thought was a thing of your past.

“I think this is the best date I’ve ever been on,” you tell Tim as you begin walking again. “Thank you.”

“Nolan and Bailey are gonna take credit if we tell them the blind date worked,” Tim points out.

“Yeah,” you agree, drawing out the word. “But I don’t think I can hide how happy tonight made me. Not from Bailey, at least.”

Tim nods like he understands as you stop. You turn to face him, and he raises the hand that isn’t in yours to hold your cheek. There isn’t a question or doubt in your mind as you kiss Tim. What was supposed to be a date to cheer you up and get you back out of your mundane, lonely life is already becoming so much more. As Tim releases your hand to hold you and pull you closer, your entire world brightens. Neither you nor Tim are lonely, let alone miserable, with the prospect of a new relationship with one another. You pull back when you can’t stop smiling against Tim’s lips.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

“For what?”

“All of it.”

Tim smiles and brushes his thumb under your bottom lip. “If I don’t see you before Friday, I’m looking forward to our date. And I’ll pick you up at the fire station.”

“Are you sure about that?” you question. “Bailey will tell John.”

“They’ll have to learn sooner rather than later that there’s no room for them in our relationship.”

Your smile grows at our relationship, but you lick your lips to keep your excitement from showing. “They’re both born meddlers.”

“Let’s stop talking about them,” Tim murmurs as he leans in again.

Bonus:

When you arrive home, you see the text from Bailey and answer: More miserable than you can imagine. I’m going to sleep to escape it. Sure, you left off the part about being sad because the date ended, but she’ll find out soon enough.

[missbellie]

I NEED ANOTHER part of your last fic… i love it

who said i wasn't planning this?

Redline, and...GO!- B.E

Synopsis: You and your ex-girlfriend are illegal car racers. Your breakup wasn't very amicable due to both of your toxicity, so you've avoided competing with each other. But apparently fate has other plans for tonight. Tonight, with Billie on the road, her group of friends decide to play a little prank - Sabotage Billie's car. And fuck, she's mad...

Pair: B.e-F!×Reader

Words: 6k

Warnings: cursing, fighting

Style: Fanfic | Imagine | Headcanons

Part: part 1 ⇽

The next week, there was another race—and Billie was back on the lineup.

“This is going to be good…” you muttered, eyeing the way Alisson and Billie exchanged those dangerously familiar looks.

“Looks like you’re the one setting the stage tonight, hot stuff,” Jonathan said, nodding at the red cloth in your hand.

Your smile widened as you grabbed the red cloth, and without another word, you walked between the two cars, stopping right by Billie’s window—conveniently rolled down.

“Good luck with this one,” you said, your tone casual, teasing. “Alisson’s good. And, well… you’re not exactly famous for winning lately. Three losses in a row would be kind of embarrassing.”

Billie slowly turned her head, eyes dragging over you like a slow burn, her mouth curling into a half-smirk.

“Didn’t you have shorter shorts?” she murmured, gaze locked on your legs.

“I did,” you replied, flashing a wicked grin. “But I didn’t want to impress you too much…”

Billie chuckled under her breath, low and dry. “Afraid I’ll get distracted?”

You leaned in just slightly, enough to let her catch a hint of your perfume and the curve of your smirk.

“Not afraid. Hoping,” you whispered.

Then you took your place between the cars, red cloth in hand, heart pounding—not from nerves, but anticipation. This race was going to be explosive.

"Alright... Redline!" you shouted, raising the red cloth.

"And... GO!"

You dropped the cloth with your body, the cars tearing past you in a flash, making your hair fly wildly as the engines howled into the night.

You turned to watch them shoot forward when you felt someone step behind you.

“We sabotaged her car,” Jonathan muttered.

You let out a nasal laugh. “You guys are boosting Billie’s ego...”

“No,” he said, more serious this time. “We sabotaged Billie’s car.”

You turned sharply. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Jonathan glanced at Benny, another friend of yours, and nodded.

“Try to calm down, Y/n... The worst that could happen is something breaking down in her car if she tries to speed,” murmured the red-haired girl next to you, leaning in closer so no one else would hear.

“By the way... it’s another step forward for us, yes?” she added in your ear.

Your lips pulled into a small smile, which made both Jonathan and Benny chuckle knowingly.

“You guys are horrible…” you muttered, still smirking, arms crossing in front of your chest.

And sure enough—just as Billie’s car passed the midpoint—she tried to push it, stepping hard on the gas. A loud PUM echoed through the air, and her car stuttered violently before coming to a full stop.

There were a few seconds of stunned silence.

Then Jonathan and Benny burst out laughing—and, like dominoes, everyone else followed. You brought your hand to your mouth, trying to hold it in, but the sight of Billie slamming the door shut with a scowl that could kill made it nearly impossible.

“Fuck…” you whispered through your fingers, biting down a grin.

But then she looked at you.

Her eyes locked on yours—icy blue, but something in them darkened the second she saw you laughing.

And in that moment, you could’ve sworn the girl’s eyes weren’t blue anymore. They were black with fury.

She stormed toward the crowd, her jaw clenched, that signature swagger of hers even sharper with rage. People started parting as she approached like she was a loaded gun.

She didn’t stop until she was inches from you.

“You think that was funny?” she asked, voice low, lethal.

You looked at her with a look of confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about" You say, shrugging and tilting your head.

You could feel Billie's anger projected onto you through the silence.

"Don't fucking play dumb with me, shit!" The girl says, pushing your shoulders, making you stagger.

"Are you fucking out of your mind?" You scream, slapping the girl's face.

Jonathan grabs you from behind, pulling you away from Billie who was panting with her hair in front of her face, as if thinking about what to do.

"And you don't fucking touch me, bitch!" You scream once more, giving the girl a cuff while trying to get away from Jonathan who was dragging you away.

"Alright that's enough, let's go home. Benny, take her to the car" The redhead nodded as she hugged you by the shoulder and led you to the car, while listening to you complain.

A few days later...

Your garage was calm—almost boring. Jonathan was underneath your car, tightening something, and Benny was wiping down your new ride like she was detailing a damn museum piece.

Then the door slammed.

Hard.

You didn’t even need to look. That heavy, pissed-off energy announced her before you saw her.

Billie.

She stalked in like she owned the place—or was about to burn it down.

Jonathan peeked out from under the car. “Shit…”

“Get inside,” you said, your eyes locked on Billie.

Jonathan hesitated. “You sure?”

“I said go.” Your voice left no room.

Benny wiped her hands and exchanged a look with him before heading in. They knew better.

You turned toward Billie as the door shut behind them. “You’ve got some fucking nerve showing up here.”

“Oh, I’ve got nerve?” Billie barked a humorless laugh. “That’s rich coming from the backstabbing bitch who tanked my car in front of half the damn city.”

You rolled your eyes, arms crossing. “If I really sabotaged your car, babe, you wouldn’t have just stalled. You’d be in the fucking hospital.”

“Oh, so you admit it?”

“I just said I didn’t do shit,” you snapped. “But maybe your little ego can’t handle the idea that your car just gave up on you, same way I did.”

Billie stepped closer, nostrils flaring, fists clenched. “You think you’re fucking clever, don’t you?”

“I know I am. And I think you’re fucking pathetic—coming in here like some unhinged ex with a grudge and no game.”

She was in your face now, breath heavy, hot. “Say that shit again.”

“What, pathetic?” you spat. “You want to hit me now? Come on. Fucking do it.”

Her jaw tightened so hard you thought her teeth might snap. Her hand twitched like she actually might. Instead, she just grabbed your collar, yanking you an inch closer.

“Careful,” she growled. “I might not stop at hitting.”

Your heart jumped in your chest—and not just from adrenaline. Your eyes dropped for a second to her lips. Mistake.

Her gaze caught it.

There was a pause.

A breath.

Then you shoved her back, hard. “Don’t fucking touch me, Billie.”

She stumbled but caught herself, her laugh bitter. “Right. God forbid I treat you the way you treat everyone else.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you snarled.

“You already did,” she snapped.

Silence.

Just heavy breathing. Clenched fists. Wild stares.

And under all that anger—just for a second—something dangerous flickered.

Something unfinished.

Then she turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door so hard it rattled the tools on the wall.

You stood there, heart pounding like you'd just run a damn race yourself.

"Fucking bitch..." You mumbled, leaning against the counter, running your hand through your hair.

One thing was certain: This didn't end here.

loved this, XOXOOOO

[fic-heaven]

Ghost x witty reader

Good luck's kiss

.

Running through the hall heaving like a dog earned you a few confused looks from the passerbys, but the fact that your lieutenant was in the armory about to leave for a month to a mission you were not quite informed of, made you skip breakfast to at the very least, say goodbye. Because obviously that's what friends do... Not crazy fucks with a big-ass crush.

"Hey! Hey!!" You call out to Ghost who by the looks of it, is not happy at all while rearranging his bag near the exit from where you just busted in.

"Don't got time to humour ya, sarge. We are deploying in a few minutes." The tall Brit growls rushing to collect his things, the heavy bag he previously had on the floor was now being launched to his shoulder as Simon got ready to leave the room.

"Weren't ya leaving in like... Half a week?" You breathlessly said getting on his way.

"Yeah well, change of plans. That's our job, sweetheart."

You crossed your arms with a patient look and that seemed to tick him off.

"You weren't planning to simply leave without saying goodbye, right? That's not something my favorite lieutenant would do."

He busied himself checking his gear for the last time on the crusty, broken mirror near next to you that someone had forgotten to throw away as an excuse to spend a few minutes listening to you.

"What would ya have me do? I ain' got no time to fuck around kissing everyone g'bye."

"Do you need a good luck's kiss, LT?"

That shocked Ghost, but he was obviously not going to openly show it, he knew if he was too obvious he wouldn't hear the end of it with all your teasing, so he stood there staring blankly at your reflection next to him in utter silence and you, always so straight forward, weren't one to shy away from this even if it was only a joke.

You moved the paralyzed lieutenant by the shoulders to face you so you could lean in, to your surprise he crouched a bit to your level when he picked up on what you were about to do, your hand went to his jaw tilting his head a bit to the side with his permission, then you planted your lips to the cold surface of his masked cheek. Ghost's eyes remained open, never blinking in a seemingly bored expression while you smiled in amusement at your lieutenant until you spotted the clock hanging from the wall behind him and realization hit you.

"Y'gotta go, what are ya waiting for? A second kiss?"

That seemed to pull him out of his hidden stupor, he blinked twice, leaned back and stretched his neck. "Thanks for the offer. That wasn't awkward at all..."

"Why! I bet you are blushing under there~"

"On your dreams, I only indulge in your stupidity-"

"Oh, for bonding I bet."

"Not really, it's only for my sole amusement."

"My goodness, Riley. You are cold..."

Ghost was about to leave the armory with his hand ready to open the door until he heard this, he turned to you, took a few rushed steps closer his right hand shooting to grab your nape and pressed the teeth of his mask to your forehead simulating a kiss. It was your turn to look openly dumbfounded. Ghost took a peek your way, said his quick goodbyes and left.

He'll never acknowledge the loud dreamy sigh that scaped his mouth when his lungs deflated once he got to the humvee.

Simon could die on this mission and feel a type of peace only belonging to a man who has seen and done everything on his list. Although next time, if everything goes right and he gets back to you, he hopes you'll give him another kiss but this time with no mask.

[ambiguous-avery]

Moon Without Stars, Epilogue

Sam Winchester x fem!Reader/You | WC: 1279

Summary: Hunters – the people who lived fast and lawless – had one rule they all abided by. No attachments. And in a world where your first touch with your soulmate would leave a brand behind, No Touching was an unspoken second rule. Not everyone followed that, but you did. Or you tried to. The last thing you needed was for fate to be cruel and bind you to someone. Least of all someone like Sam Winchester.

Tags/Warnings: Soulmate AU, fluff, idiots fighting fate, strangers to enemies to lovers, no use of Y/N, no beta we die like men

A/N: This is it! Here we are! I would like to say thank you from the absolute bottom of my heart to everyone who has been with me on this wonderful journey! I’ve loved every second of it, and I hope you have as well. I promise you that this isn’t the last you’ll see of these two! I’ve got some other fun things in mind for them! Moon Without Stars Masterlist

The sky was soft with pinks and purples painted across it as the sun set over the hills. Gravel crunched under your boots as you crossed the open lot to where your car sat. Dirt and bird droppings had covered it in your absence. The tires looked half-sunken into the ground. It had only been a week and a few days, but it felt like it had been an eternity since you last saw it. Sam matched your pace as you approached it, circling it and making sure no vandals had broken a window or something. They hadn’t.

“Didn’t think it would still be here,” you said after a beat. “With my luck, I thought the earth would’ve swallowed it whole by now. Forced me to stay.” You ran a hand over the hood, brushing away some of the dust that had settled there. The metal felt familiar under your palm, almost as if the car was greeting you after your separation.

“I’m glad it’s still here,” Sam said, his voice close behind you. “Would’ve been a shame to lose it.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him, taking in the way the sunset painted his features in warm hues. There was a careful neutrality in his expression, but you could feel his uncertainty bleeding through your mark. He was trying not to pressure you. There hadn’t been any mention of your plans since everything with Mason and the Hollow Man. And he was giving you space to make your decision. But the slight tension in his shoulders told you everything you needed to know.

He wasn’t sure if you were actually going to stay.

You pulled your keys from your pocket. The familiar weight of them in your hand was both comforting and strange. For days, they had been nothing but a reminder of your eventual departure. Now, they represented a choice that seemed heavier than ever before.

You unlocked the driver’s side door and swung it open, the creak of old hinges breaking the silence between you. The inside smelled like leather and the faint traces of fast food you’d eaten on the road. Your duffel bag was still on the passenger seat where you’d left it, your journal tucked into the side pocket.

“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” Sam said, leaning against the hood. His voice was careful. Measured. Like he was worried about saying the wrong thing.

You slid in behind the wheel. The engine turned over on the second try. The battery hadn’t died. A part of you wished it had. You leaned forward, brushing the dust from the dashboard with the edge of your sleeve then sat back, hands on the wheel. You were quiet for a long moment, staring at the abandoned factory through your dusty windshield.

“I think I’m ready to say good-bye,” you said at long last. Sam’s breath caught in his throat, and you felt the way his heart dropped into his stomach through your mark.

“Oh,” Sam’s voice was barely audible over the idling engine. “I… understand.”

You turned to look at him. Really look at him. His eyes were downcast, staring at his boots as they shifted against the gravel. The line of his shoulders had gone rigid, bracing for impact. Your mark ached with his resignation. The quiet acceptance of someone who had grown used to people walking away.

“Not to you,” you clarified, watching pure relief wash over his features. “To her. To the version of me that died in that factory. The one who couldn’t believe in anything anymore.” Understanding dawned across Sam’s face, his eyes softening as they searched yours.

“I’ve been running for so long,” you continued, your voice steadier than you expected it. “Running from what happened with Mason. Running from myself. Running from the possibility that I might be worth something after all. I don’t want to run anymore.”

“Are you sure?” Sam moved closer to the driver’s side door, his hand resting on the window frame.

“No,” you admitted with a shaky laugh. “I’m not sure about anything.” You paused. “Except you.” The words slipped out, but they felt right. True. The leather of your steering wheel creaked as your grip tightened. “That’s terrifying.” Sam’s eyes widened slightly, and you felt a surge of warmth through your mark.

“Terrifying is kind of our specialty, don’t you think?” he asked softly. You let out a laugh that was more air than sound.

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

The sunset cast long shadows across the abandoned lot, turning everything golden. You were acutely aware of how pivotal the moment felt. Like standing at the edge of a cliff, knowing that whatever choice you made would change the direction of your life in ways that couldn’t be undone.

“So… where will you go from here?” Sam asked carefully. You met his gaze, looking up at him over the edge of the open car door.

“I was thinking… about heading back to that Men of Letters Bunker I’ve been staying at,” you said, watching the way hope flickered across Sam’s features. “If they’ll have me, of course,” you added quickly. “There’s this hunter there who makes terrible coffee and has an extensive library. Seems like a good place to figure out what comes next.” Sam’s responding smile was radiant, transforming his entire face in a way you had grown fond of.

“I think they’d be more than happy to have you. Though… you might want to work on your flattery skills if you’re planning to stick around.”

“Hey, I said the library was extensive. That’s a compliment. There’s one caveat though…” Sam’s eyebrows rose, and that familiar crease in his brow made an appearance. “I don’t know my way there.”

“You don’t know how to get back to the bunker?”

“Not from here,” you admitted with a one-shouldered shrug. “Wasn’t exactly in the best shape on my way outta here the last time I left.” You drummed your fingers against the steering wheel. Then, “I could use a navigator.” Sam’s smile widened, and there was something so genuine in it that your mark practically purred with contentment.

“I think I can help with that.”

He walked around to the passenger side, and you leaned over to grab your duffel bag from the seat, tossing it into the back. When Sam opened the door and slid into the seat beside you, the car felt different somehow. Not cramped like you expected but complete. Like the empty passenger seat had been waiting for him all along. His knees bumped the glove box, and the seat creaked under his weight.

Then, he paused.

There, coiled in the power outlet below the dash, was your GPS. Plugged in. Fully charged. Ready. His eyes darted between the GPS and your face, one eyebrow slowly arching upward. The beginnings of another smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t say anything. Not directly.

“So, navigator, huh?” he asked, his voice warm with amusement.

“GPS can’t tell me which backroads to take to avoid state troopers,” you said, trying to sound casual despite the way your heart was hammering against your ribs. “Besides, it’s terrible company.”

The truth hovered between you, unspoken but obvious.

“I’d like to see where this road takes us. Together.” You held your hand out, palm up. An offering. Sam intertwined his fingers with yours.

“For now?” he asked.

“For now,” you echoed, but the words felt different this time. Less like a compromise. More like a promise. And if you were being entirely honest with yourself, you could already see the beginnings of your for now turning into forever.

---

That’s it. That’s a wrap. Thank you again so very much for joining me on this journey! It has been such a blast, and I love each and every one of you for all of your support and comments and likes and reblogs! Seriously. It makes my day when I get notifications from y’all.

Also, shout out to @waiting-so-long for correctly guessing why reader’s mark disappeared in the first place. And just so y’all don’t think I changed anything, I’ve got proof from my texts with a friend from when I was first drafting out my plot! Gosh… I can’t believe I started this thing back in April. You all are amazing 💜💜💜 hope to see you all in my next fic!

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

Sam taglist: @jollyhunter @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @voodoochildthings @sir-thisisadndserver @colours-of-thewind @kiddieclaws @theamuz @mostlymarvelgirl @rurwu @imalapdog @losers-clvb @zyra-7 @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @alexfms97 @jbear750 @myceliumsunshine @bananapocalyps3 @tinysnacklefan @pisces-celeste @springflwer07

Drop a comment, ask away, or add yourself to my taglist!

Part 13

[callme-holly]

okay asdfghjkl I need more book!soda content 😭🩷something tooth rottingly fluffy like maybe a first kiss thing?? the reader gives soda a kiss for good luck before a rumble or something?? I love your writing so so much!! 🩷🩷🩷

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 [𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐩 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

a/n: sorry this took me so long to get to. i finally dug into my inbox and im trying to work through everything !

The house was alight with a mix of nerves and pent-up excitement, all of it channelled into frustration that would fuel the rumble. Everyone had filed into the Curtis house, one by one, hanging in the living room until the clock struck 7pm. You would’ve liked to go, would have felt better knowing what was going on and who was getting hurt; however, it seemed you were being forced to stay behind, left to stew in the growing pit of your anxiety. 

Soda was grinning brightly, darting about the room like a kid on  , and while his cheerful expression would usually bring you some sort of comfort, it did nothing but unsettle you. He could be careless, forgetful, and get too caught up in the moment, and that was dangerous during a rumble. Sure, he's managed perfectly fine before, but you still can't help the nerves clawing at you from the inside.

He rushed past you once more, and you reached out quickly, catching the back of his shirt and tugging him back gently. "Wait..." Your voice came out incredibly quiet, and it took you by suprise. "Soda, just...   down for a second." 

Soda paused, his blonde hair flopping over his forehead. "Are you okay, baby?" 

You swallowed heavily, hesitating for a moment. Your mind was buzzing, running at a thousand miles a minute; you could vaguely hear Darry shouting in the background for everyone to get ready, and you knew you only had a few seconds to get out what you wanted to say.

"I'm not sure about this." Soda tilts his head at you, his brows furrowing with confusion, his honey eyes alight with curiosity.

"Why not? I've done this before. I'll be okay--"

"I know," you cut him off sharply. There was an urgency building up in your chest that made you feel sick with the need to keep him safe. "But I hate seeing you hurt, knowing you're out there getting your head bashed in by some soc bastard!" 

Soda blinked, looking almost surprised at your sudden burst of anger. The room continued to hum with life around you, but in that pocket of time, it was just the two of you. 

"I'll be back before you know it," he mumbles eventually, his arms winding around you, pulling you into his chest. He was warm, and you let your eyes slip shut, allowing yourself a moment to listen to the quiet thrum of his heartbeat. "And I won't get hurt. I promise. I'm tougher than that." He flashes you a blinding grin, and you can't help but return it. 

"Really?"  You ask, half joking, half sincere. 

He kisses the top of your head, and you snuggle closer, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "Really," he assures, his voice firm. "I'll come back in one piece. You can clean me up, and then we can, I don't know, eat crap and cuddle."  

Your breath huffs against his neck, but you nod nonetheless, pulling away when you hear the front door open and see everyone out of the corner of your eye piling outside. 

Soda looks down at you, and before you can stop yourself, you lean up onto your toes and press a fleeting kiss to his lips, lingering for a moment, savouring the taste of him: Pepsi, mint, and something that was uniquely Sodapop Curtis.  He smiles against your mouth before drawing away, brushing your hair out of your face tenderly, his fingers tracing over your cheekbones.

"Be safe." You mutter, and he nods, stepping back.

"I will. For you, sweetheart." 

And you know he'll stick by that, because he never breaks a promise, nor a plan.  

[billybob598]

Wanna Know Something? (Mary Earps x Reader)

Yoooooo, i posteddddd. I know, I haven't written anything in so long, my bad lol. Hopefully this makes up for it. Remember, any feedback good or bad is welcomed. Enjoy reading!

Word Count: 1.6k (wtfff idk how i did that ngl)

“Hey, good luck today,” you hear somebody whisper. Turning to look at the speaker you see Mary reaching out her fist towards you. You smile and bring her into a hug.

“Good luck querida,” (darling) you mumble into her ear. Mary places a soft and discreet onto your neck, your legs almost give out at the action. As you pull away you reach out to Leah who was ahead of both of you. She turns and gives a quick hug to you, her Arsenal teammate.

“Vamos Y/N,” Rafaelle says over her shoulder as the officials start to move forward. You quickly get back to your line and try to focus on the game ahead. 

Mary had been your girlfriend for almost a year now. You were the starting goalkeeper for Arsenal and Brazil. Sometimes, you couldn’t believe that Mary loved you, she was so amazing, so funny, so kind, one of the best people you knew for sure. Now, you were playing against each other in the Finalissima. This was a big match. Brazil was hungry to prove that they could compete against top European teams and this was a perfect opportunity. When the national anthems start to play you feel a sense of pride grow inside of your chest. Here you were, in front of a packed Wembley Stadium, playing against your girlfriend for a trophy. It doesn’t get much better than that. 

As you near the goal you’ll be protecting you do your pre-game traditions. Touch the left post first, then the right, then jump and touch the crossbar. After, you sprint to the edge of the 18-yard box, kneel, and say a quick prayer. Done. You mentally lock in for what you know will be a tough match.

At halftime, you’re frustrated. England had been controlling most of the ball, they had also gotten a few shots on target. You could do nothing more when Toone finished off a fantastic build-up by England in the twenty-third minute. All throughout Pia’s halftime talk you are planning a speech to the team. Just before you guys head back out, you stand in the middle of the locker room and start to speak,

“Listen, I know everyone out there is rooting against us, so let’s use that to our advantage. Let it fuel us, make us hungry to beat them. They came to see an England win, not a Brazil one. Let’s show them why we are Copa America champions!” This gets everybody fired up. You can sense the shift in the energy of the team, everyone is excited and motivated to prove themselves. The second half is a different story than the first. While England still controls most of the ball, your Brazilian team was creating more chances, being quicker on the counterattack, and finally starting to test Mary. As the game heads into stoppage time, you can feel your heart start to sink. You feel yourself start to lose hope. Then, out of nowhere, Mary bobbles the ball and Andressa jumps all over it, putting it in the back of the net. You scream, jumping up and down with excitement. Soon after that full-time is called. Taking a deep breath, you calm your nerves before the penalty shoot-out. Your goalkeeper coach reminds you of all of England’s penalty takers habits. 

After giving your teammates fist bumps and high fives, you make your way towards Mary and the ref who are already waiting for you. The ref runs through all the penalty rules for you guys. When she finishes speaking and leaves the two of you alone, you turn to Mary and with a smirk reach your fist to her. She grins at you and moves to fist bump you, only for you to dodge it at the last second. She shoves you with a playful smile tugging at her lips. You laugh, before starting the walk to the goal. 

England has the first penalty. You jump up and down on your goalline, doing jumping jacks trying to distract Stanway. As she takes her first step, you analyze her, deciding to dive to your right. It turns out to be the right decision, but you can’t quite get enough to push it out of the net. You groan as the ball ends up behind you. When Mary gets a hand on Adriana’s shot you hold your breath, only to release it as it rolls into the back of the net. When Ella Toone lines up to take the penalty you know where she is going. You dive to your left, reaching your hand out to block the ball. It bounces off your hand, and for a second you can’t believe it, you saved it. The ecstasy is short-lived however, as you watch the ball roll back towards the penalty spot your head smashes into something quite hard. The post. You black out immediately. Most of the fans groan at the missed penalty. Toone turns away and starts to make her way back to her team. Mary’s the first one to realize something is wrong when you don’t get back up right away. She runs over to you, turning you over to see your eyes closed and a massive gash on the side of your head. Panic overwhelms her body, she grabs a hold of your face trying to get you to wake up. Your Brazilian teammates rush over, all screaming for medics. Rafaelle reaches you and checks for a pulse. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief when she finds one. Some of your fellow Brazilians wince at the amount of blood coming out of your head.

“Come on baby, please wake up,” Mary begs to your limp body, “wake up for me please.”

The medics finally reach you, they wrap something around your head to try and stop the bleeding. Geyse takes your girlfriend’s arm and slowly moves her away from the situation. Mary feels tears start to sting her eyes as she watches the EMTs load you onto a stretcher and take you straight to an ambulance. Wembley breaks out in thunderous applause as you get taken away from the field. The backup goalie jogs onto the field while slipping on her gloves. Mary is conflicted, on one hand, she wants to go to the hospital with you and make sure you’re okay. On the other hand, she knows she can’t just bail and that she has to finish the rest of the shoot-out. She decides to stay on the field with the knowledge that she’s going to dedicate the last few penalties to you. 

Mary saves two of the last three and lets out a warrior yell when Kelly sinks her last penalty. She’s so happy and proud that she almost forgets about your condition. Almost. When she sees Rafaelle talking to Leah with a solemn look on her face she rushes over eager to see if your best friend had heard anything about you.

“So?” Mary looks at her expectantly.

“She’s still out, but she’s stable. So far everything is okay.” Mary breathes a sigh of relief at the news. 

“I’m gonna head there now,” the English goalkeeper decides, moving towards the locker rooms. Leah grabs her arm.

“We have to do the trophy lift,” her captain tells her. 

“Leah, come on, can’t I just go see her?” Mary asks.

“You can go right after, but you should be there for the trophy lift, at least.” Mary nods, sighing. During the celebrations, Mary is just going through the motions. She tries to hurry up the process so she can go see you. Finally, Leah gives her the go-ahead and she rushes to the hospital. When she reaches the hospital reception she’s panting heavily,

“I’m here for Y/N Y/L/N,” she says in between heavy breaths. The receptionist nods and shows her to your room. Mary slowly enters, confused when she hears the TV on. Fully opening the door, she’s met with you grinning at her with your arms spread wide.

“Congratulations! Finalissima winners, that’s pretty cool!” You say brightly. You cock your head to one side when your girlfriend doesn’t respond instead just staring at you. “You okay?” She doesn’t answer, opting to hug you. The air gets knocked out of you, but you hug back.

“Oh my God, Y/N. Y-You were bleeding and w-weren’t moving or an-anything,” she chokes out, tears streaming down her face. You kiss the top of her head gently.

“Don’t worry querida. I’m right here, see?” You gently whisper to her, tilting her head up so that her eyes meet yours. “I’m okay.”

“You’re okay,” she nods looking like she’s trying to convince herself. You nod and wipe the tears off of her cheeks delicately. You scoot over and pat the space beside you. She hesitates for a second before giving in and getting into the hospital bed with you. You guys cuddle as you watch the Lionesses celebrations on the TV. She can tell you’re starting to doze off so she whispers into your ear,

“We would’ve won even if you were in the net.” You smirk slightly.

“In your dreams Earps. We all know I would have saved at least one of those.” She rolls her eyes at your antics and kisses the top of your head,

“Just go to sleep, love.”

“Wanna know something?” Mary gives you a questioning look, prompting you to continue. “Metal posts are really, really hard. I would not recommend ramming your head into them. You might not feel great for a bit after.”

[lewishamiltoniluvu]

Proud of You / Jobe Bellingham

ps i made this gif so give creds if u use it!

warnings: established relationship, fluff, bar setting

summary: tired you cozying up to your winner of a boyfriend. based loosely on the Sunderland vs Plymouth Argyle match and it’s (fictional) aftermath.

You sat patiently with the other wags for the majority of the first half. Your boyfriend was on the bench and so was his mate Chrissy. There were yellow cards thrown, One at your boys in red, and two at the opponents in green. Approximately one every ten minutes. You pulled your Sunderland scarf a bit tighter and sighed. To you, the match was plain and boring. You adored football, even teams other than Sunderland, but if it was Sunderland, your Jobe better be playing. A few minutes after Phillips earned his yellow, you heard cheers and cries erupt from the Stadium of Light. Everyone around you looked disappointed. Plymouth Argyle had scored. As you stared at the number nine on Hardie’s back, You felt it taunting you. That should be a red jersey, with a number 7 that read ‘JOBE’. If only were that easy.

Relief came for you as the ref blew his halftime whistle, reminding you your boyfriend still had forty five minutes to go out and prove himself.

You expected the manager to have him walk out onto the field, and start the remaining forty five, but he didn’t. Your sighs grew louder wondering when your man would get out there on the field.

seven minutes passed and you joined in with the roar of fans, as Roberts moved with the ball, you could tell if he passed it to Ekwah he would score. And he did, equalizing it for the two teams. You cheered for the Jobe-less Sunderland, wishing it had been your Jobe who scored the equalizer.

Seven more minutes passed and Clarke sank a second into the back of the net giving Sunderland an advantage over the visitors. It was like someone was winking at you with the number seven and everything associated with it. Good luck, Jobe. Jobe. Jobe is the number seven. You were sure in seven minutes his manager was going to sub him in. You were sure.

At the 65’ minute mark, two minutes before your seven minute timer would go off, Jobe was subbed in along with Chrissy in exchange for Abdoullah, and Pierre.

So, maybe I was wrong, about the seven minute thing but who cares, he's in now, you thought to yourself. You smiled as he ran up and down the field. as your timer begins to alert you, you see Neil make an amazing pass to Jobe and him just put that ball away in the corner.

You cheer so hard for him, yelling “That’s my boy!” and he celebrates with his teammates before turning to your section and blowing a few kisses. You begin to blush and the wags around you laugh and poke a bit of fun.

The rest of the game flew by, the result remaining where Jobe had left it. 3-1. You made your way to wait for the boys to shower. As you waited, Keeley, Alex Pritchard’s partner came up to you and talked with you about plans for the night and how they were all going out to a bar. You told her you’d run the idea past Jobe and she thanked you.

As he walked out to go see you the fresh-faced Jobe couldn’t help but smile. You ran to him and he picked you up and spun you around.

“I’m so proud of you! That was amazing Jobeee!” you exclaimed.

He grinned cheekily and tilted his head.

“You think so?” he asked.

You laughed and kissed his cheek as he put you down.

“I think some of the guys and their partners are going out for drinks if we want to join them,” Jobe said.

“Oh yeah, Keeley mentioned something yeah.”

“lets go out with them yeah?” he asks.

“Sure,” you reply as you leave to his car hand in hand.

Jobe and you make your way inside a bar close to the outskirts of the city. You see it’s been mostly cleared so the lot of you could hang out there without many disturbances.

You sat between Keeley and Jobe drinking just a club soda with lime since you didnt feel like drinking.

After a few hours and meters of seperation from Jobe, you began to get tired.

You crept into Jobes lap and cuddled into his neck with your eyes closed. His cologne was as intoxicating as alcohol to you and you breathed it in like it was your oxygen.

He rocked you back and forth humming and your ear was pressed to his chest listening to his heartbeat as it steadily pounded.

He kissed your hair and you smiled.

“baby, im so proud of you.” you said.

He laughed and picked you up bridal style, putting you in the car to bring you home

————————————————————————

that’s it!

a/n - I turned off anon requests bc literally the same person is using it over and over again for the same request and also left rude ones so i’d rather know who they came from. Requests are open but not anon… In due time i will turn anon back on. dw. Thanks for the understanding

thanks for reading! leave comments, like and follow! thank youu!

[wrrrenff]

Restless Nights In the Devildom

Obey Me: Shall We Date Mammon x F! Reader Synopsis: After a long day in the devildom you can't seem to get any sleep! So of course the only thing to do is go annoy your best friend Mammon. Thing don't turn out as expected when you get to his room...

Warnings: 18+, smut, restraints, bondage, p in v sex, kissing, marking, domination

Gif credits to the creator!

Today had really taken its toll. Three exams, breaking up a fight between Satan and Lucifer, and in the middle of cooking dinner for everyone Beel kept trying to eat my ingredients! All of it was adding up and you were dead tired. So why couldn’t you fall asleep? It’s been two and a half hours and nothing. You could cry at how frustrated you were.

You decided that if you can’t sleep you might as well go annoy your favorite demon. You don’t even bother to knock on Mammon’s door. At this point you are both so used to each other just barging in. When you opened the door you noticed a lump on the bed. As you got closer you saw the white hair you’re so familiar with. He was asleep. Perfect opportunity to fuck with him. His face does look really peaceful… Do you really want to ruin that? Hehe fuck yeah i do.

You slowly reach towards his shoulder, ready to shake the ever-living hell out of him. As soon as you make contact Mammon grabs your hand and quickly fling you onto his bed and straddles you and holds your wrists tightly against the mattress. *What the fuck just happened* you thought.

His furious eyes take a moment before realizing who is underneath him. He smirked. “Well well well. Look who we have here. Does the little human think she can sneak up on me that easily?”

You were breathing hard. This is not how you expected this to go at all. But you weren’t mad at this situation. Or the position.

“You okay princess? You’re breathing real heavy.” Mammon said with slight concern, slightly lifting his weight off your legs but still holding your wrists tight.

You liked this. You didn’t want it to stop. Instead of responding you decided to try something. Slowly but carefully, you lift your knee and press it between his legs, rubbing it back and forth slightly. Mammon moaned. Hard. So devilishly sweet.

“Oh, you want to play like that huh?” Mammon flew off of you and started digging through his dresser drawer. Did he not like it? You worried that you upset him and went too far. That is, until he turned around and you saw the rope and cuffs.

Before you even had a second to think you were being tied up to the demon’s bed frame. You pull at the restraints with no luck at getting out.

“Too tight?”

“They’re fine but…”

The demon raised a brow. He gently grabbed your chin and slowly lifted your face until you were forced to look at him. “What is it darling? Use your words.”

Damn demon. You didn’t want to admit how badly you wanted him but you conceded. “I want to touch you. Make you feel good.”

He chuckled, low and rumbly. It made you squirm. “You came to me. I make the rules. You’re lucky I didn’t use my gag.”

“Well there’s already one flaw in your plan, genius. You forgot to take my clothes off before tying me up.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem sweetheart.” Suddenly he uses his strength to rip your clothes off. It was so easy for him. Like taking a tissue out of the box.

“So wet for me already and we’ve barely even started.”

He was staring at your figure, eyes full of lust. They were hungry eyes, intimidating. You couldn’t help but shift under him, suddenly feeling self conscious. Before you had too much more time to think about it, Mammon dove in and kissed you hard. You didn’t reciprocate at first, taking a moment to register what was happening, but quickly enough you came to your senses and kissed back. Mammon place one hand on the back of your head, slightly pulling at your hair, his other hand at your breast, lightly teasing your nipple.

He started moving his lips lower. Down your neck biting and sucking hard, almost like he was trying to leave the most obvious marks he could so everyone would know you belonged to him, even if just for this one time. He is the demon of greed after all.

You were a moaning mess. You wanted to touch him. Feel the closeness between you too. It was so FRUSTRATING. It didn’t take long for your moans to turn to impatient whines.

“What’s the matter, princess?”

“I- I want to feel you” you were a panting mess.

“Not yet, baby.”

“Can’t you at least strip too? I want to see you. All of you.”

He seemed to contemplate this for a moment, stroking his chin in the most dramatic way like the idiot he is. He was drawing this out. After a minute he got close to your face and whispered “I’ll see what I can do”

He straddled you and started taking his shirt off. You’ve seen him shirtless before but this time was different. You’ve never wanted to feel up to someone more than you did right now. You try to reach for him but don’t get very far due to the cuffs.

“You’re cute” He continues stripping, your eyes watching hungrily. As he takes off his underwear you can’t help but wonder how the fuck that thing is going to fit inside of you. But you didn’t care. You want him and you want him now.

“Fuck me please! I need it now!” You were practically begging at this point. You could see Mammon wanted to tease you some more but even he was getting to his breaking point. He lines up with your entrance and slowly starts pushing in.

“F-fuuuuucking hell!”

He stops half way through. “Need a sec?”

You nod, struggling a bit to get any words out. After a moment you tell him to continue. He eventually bottoms out inside of you and you have never felt so full in you life. You Loved it, but you needed more.

“Move please!”

“As you wish my princess.”

He starts thrusting and immediately hitting all the right spots. Mammon leaned down and started lapping and sucking one breast while teasing the other with his hand. Feeling the heat between your bodies and all of the sensations he was making you feel, it was pure bliss.

“Mammon faster! Break me!”

Without any hesitation he started going faster and harder, your hips meeting his as best they could considering the restraints. The bed was creaking like crazy. Any other day you’d be worried that this much noise would get you in trouble with Lucifer but you could deal with the consequences later. Mammon moved off your breast and up to your neck, creating more love bites. You were getting close and he could tell. Mammon reached down between you and started rubbing your clit in circles, turning you into a blubbering mess. You couldn’t even form words and more. The only sounds filling the room at this point was just the sound of skin and both of your grunts and moans.

Feeling himself getting closer to the edge, Mammon angled himself a bit differently and was hitting your g-spot perfectly. Only a few more thrusts and you were cumming hard. You went to grab Mammon as you came but were stopped by your cuffs so you were just squirming as you came.

You lay there, still bound by the handcuffs and ropes as Mammon kept pounding into you. You were so sensitive. It felt great. Each thrust into you had you whimpering. He just kept hitting your g-spot. After a minute, it was like you had gained a second wind and you could feel yourself getting close again. Mammon, realizing this, started thrusting even harder into you. You could swear the bed was going to break. Soon you both came, screaming each other's names. You were in such a trance after that you didn’t even know your own name. Mammon collapsed on top of you, panting like crazy. After catching his breath and regaining some strength, Mammon released you from your restraints. You immediately grabbed onto him like a koala to a tree. He chuckled and held you close.

After a few minutes of cuddling, you finally broke the silence. “You know, I just came in here to annoy you but if the thanks I get for barging in here, I think I need to do it more often”

The demon smirked “From here on out you can expect a lot more, princess.” You both cuddled up as close as you could to each other and eventually drifted off into the deepest most refreshing sleep you’ve ever had.

[joocomics]

hii sweetie ! it's been such a long time since i ranted in your inbox because i've been so busy with uni and all the things i had planned this month (and btw i hope you're doing alright too and are having the best day <3) BUT to the point : dom!junhan (yes, you ignited something in me with remember your first, i admit). because i was looking at the photobook of my livelock album the other day to show it to my friend and i stumbled back on the pictures of junhan on a fucking motorcycle and i need to talk about it.

so dom!juhan who's also a racer, and maybe he's even doing some illegal races because that's even more hot. he'll be getting cocky everytime you come to see him race, asking you to keep your eyes on him only before kissing you roughly and pulling you closer by your throat to show all the other men that you are his (AAAAH)

also he'll insist on bringing you everywhere you want to go, reminding you to hold him tight, maybe even pulling you closer to him when he feels you hesitating because you don't want to hurt him. and of course he does that because it's safer for you, and not at all because he loves to feel your whole body pressed against his back. not at all.

whenever he brings you homa late at night, he doesn't stick to dropping you in front of your door, no. he's coming up with you, pining you against the door and kissing you roughly. if he's frustrated because he lost his race, he'll be extra rude and mean : never letting you cum, calling his slut and whore, forcing his cock down your throat, holding your down into your pillow while he's splitting you in half to muffle your screams of his name, but even that is not enough to make you shut up about how much you love it when he takes control of you. also fucking you before his race because you're his "good-luck charm", leaving every exposed part of your body littered in his marks and your panties stained with his cum to keep you waiting until you both get home and he gets down on his knees to reward you. <3 (do whatever you want with that, i needed to let it all out)

I’M SO HAPPY TO HAVE A HARD DOM!JUNHAN ENTHUSIAST ON MY SIDE especially when it’s you omfg

cw: hard dom!junhan, pain kink, possessive behaviour, degradation, orgasm denial

racer bf!junhan who loves seeing you in the crowd and winks at you before the race starts. most times he wins and the first thing he does is to make his way to you and kiss you deeply in front of everyone. you feel his crazy heartbeat; the familiar hand is hugging your throat possessively; you taste the adrenaline rush from his tongue. so many eyes are watching you from all sides, because even though many of them don’t know you personally, they know who you are - junhan’s girl. you’re always there for him with fresh love marks on your neck and big heart eyes not letting him out of sight

racer bf!junhan who is extra mean if he loses - yes. he rarely does, but it always affects him a lot when it happens. he’s silent on your way home, and he’s still silent when he sits on the edge of the bed with hands covering his face. you want to make him feel better, and you do what you always do in moments like this - you stand between his legs only in your lingerie, and you caress his hair while anticipating what’s about to follow. you feel the warm sensation already forming in the pit of your stomach as he grips your ass roughly. “giving your body without me even asking for it? desperate slut.” he pushes you on the mattress watching your behind turning pink from his heavy slaps. “shh, you’re not doing this for me, you just want to get your fuckin’ cunt wet”

racer bf!junhan who lets out his frustrations all over your body in the forms of bites, pinches, hand prints and slaps. he fucks you doggy style with one hand around your neck and the other one on your mouth, because you start crying too loud from knowing that the ecstatic rush you feel building up in your tummy will be painfully stolen from you in a second. every time he pulls out he lets you fall apart on the bed with tears in your eyes, but you always rise up, mewling how much you love him; making sure he knows there’s no one else like him

he ends up overstimulating himself every time. not only does he get completely and obsessively lost in your body to the point of being unable to stop after he cums for the first time, but he simply cannot comprehend how much you can handle, and he wants to see when will you finally tell him to stop and ask for what you need. even through tears you keep looking at him with burning lust; your legs sticky from his cum, are shaking and barely keep you up, but you willingly spread them open again, because his desires come before your own. it results into him repressing your voice into the pillow and pounding into you till he reaches his high again. your overwhelmed body starts slipping from his hands as you break down, finally asking the question. “baby, can i c-cum now? please”

he flips you on your back, positioning you between his legs. “not yet,” he answers calmly, shoving his cock down your throat. he cannot always have control over his life the way he wants to, but he can have a perfect control over you…

[l-norris]

The summerbreak is over and the Dutch GP is underway!

Honestly, I can feel the years subtracted of my life already, heh.

DISCLAIMER: Remember that this is just for shits and giggles, I'm not trying to actually hate on any of the drivers cuz all (most) of them are very dear to me!

As always - numbers in brackets = lap numbers

- Formation lap is on

- Welcome back to F1, where your hairs grey in a matter of seconds

- Mom I'm scared

- it fuckem wimdy

- heart rate through the roof, anxiety growing

- Lando don't bottle the start please🙏🏻

- It's lights out and away we go!

- ... UGHHH

- death, taxes, Lando bottling the start

- (not actually him but more like the car)

- Didn't even make it to the first turn this time

- 'Red Bull aren't fast' MY ASS

- To be fair Oscar's start was also kinda meh

- so much wheelspin

- Kevin locks up on lap 1 too

- Max pulls away (8)

- "Lando who are we racing?" Uuuuuh... everyone??

- Some battling and overtaking from Lewis (10)

- Spicy battle between Carlos and Pierre (11)

- "We are on Plan A"

- FERRARI🤨

- Just a quick note that Lando actually keeps up with Max

- Alex pits (13)

- Lando in DRS window

- Lewis is on the chase (16)

- It's getting spicy up front

- Boys. Behave.

- "There are no smiles on the Red Bull pit wall. Only grimaces." Good!

- Lando overtakes Max! (18)

- Masterpiece of an overtake

- Guanyu pits (20)

- Lando pulls away (21)

- Wind is picking up

- Bro I was looking away for two minutes and Lando is 3 seconds ahead??

- Lewis pits (24)

- Charles pits (25)

- George pits (26)

- Ferrari got their shit together also?

- rare Ferrari W

- Max pits (28)

- makes me nervous

- Lando pits (28)

- left front issue😀

- But he overcuts Max!

- Sheer, dumb luck, McLaren. Sheer, dumb luck.

- We currently have a McLaren 1-2

- Lando fastest lap (32)

- Only three people left who haven't pitted yet

- Hello McLaren? Are you gonna pit Oscar anytime soon?

- Now's the time (34)

- Charles is third in THAT SHITBOX?!

- Pierre unsafe release

- Lando is now 8 seconds ahead of Max (36)

- Lance speeding in pitlane

- Lando is now 9 seconde ahead of Max (38)

- Pre-Miami me would have an aneurysm

- Lance 5-second-penalty

- Oscar is in George's rear

- GET HIM!

- Oscar is now fourth

- Lando is now 10 seconds ahead of Max (40)

-Kevin gets OBLITERATED by MULTIPLE cars

- Alex is almost in the points

- Why is Max gaining all of a sudden

- Nevermind just a moment of weakness I guess

- Lando is now 11 seconds ahead of Max (44)

- Sorry I'll stop lmao

- Oscar is chasing down Charles

- While Carlos is stuck behind Checo

- Why are McLaren so positive that a Safety Car will come out (47)

- There hasn't been a single yellow flag or retirement so far what are you lot planning

- Carlos finally passes Checo

- Lewis pits (49)

- I know I said I'd stop but 13 SECOND LEAD?? INSANE (51)

- Bro's gonna be a whole pitstop ahead at the end of this

- Very demure. Very mindful.

- A few pitstops happen (54)

- 15 laps to go

- Nothing is happening (59)

- Rare Lando footage on Live TV (62)

- Lewis P14 to P8 btw

- Ferrari flop era is no more

- Fernando passes Nico (64)

- The rookie is in the points now

- Quick update: 18 seconds gap between Lando and Max (66)

- You're doing amazing sweetie

- Nor Ver Lec Podium looking real nice rn (67)

- 5 laps to go!

- Dead silence in the McLaren garage

- 20 SECOND LEAD NOW HOLY SHIT

- 3 laps to go!

- LET'S GO LANDO!

- FINAL LAP!

- RAAAAAAAAAAAH

- 21 SECONDS NOW

- ANY SECOND NOW!

- HE WINS IT!

- SECOND WIN FOR LANDO NORRIS

- POLE, WIN, FASTEST LAP AND DRIVER OF THE DAY!

- GRAND. SLAM.

- He's very calm, very collected.

- Weekend saved, thanks Lando👍🏻

- Also Charles is back on the podium

- No more 'Terrible day for Tifosi'

- CHAMPAGNE POP!

What. A. Race.

Awesome way to start back into the second half of the season. I'm on an all-time high right now, hahaha. Really happy for Lando, and also happy for Charles to be back on the podium!

[voxiiferous]

NPC Spotlight: Takumi Himura (née Masaru Ueyoshi)

Born in the waning years of the Taisho era, in 1923, Masaru Ueyoshi was a talented child. His math skills exceeded, his art skills awed, his English was passable. His parents were proud. He probably could have done anything and received, at least moderate, acclaim.

And well, this all probably would have been true had he not come of age during the war. He turned 18 in 1941, and applied to university to begin a medical degree- much to the delight of his parents. It became a safe haven in a city increasingly ruled by rubble as Tokyo was bombed.

Two years later, when he turned twenty, and all men over 20 become subjects of enlistment, regardless of education status, he no longer had a choice. After several months of training, he was sent to an island that, as far as he'd been concerned, might as well have been nameless to fight the Americans.

Or, that was the idea. In his second actual military engagement, he ended up in the medical tents, injured and then infectious. Between that, and his limited education, he ended up spending the last two years acting as a medic.

When finally the war was over, his dreams of becoming a doctor had been thoroughly, and completely destroyed. Instead, he devoted himself to a different matter of rebuilding, and began studying architecture in 1946 at the same university that several years prior, had meant something wholly different.

Four years later, he graduated, just in time for a new program to have been unveiled. The GARIOA program, for a year, sponsored him to live in America-- ostensibly to learn of their culture and democracy. A year later he came home, new ideas of a post-war architecture floating around in his mind.

Modernism, brutalism, potentials of a new era. He took it all home.

Masaru became one many of the more... experimental architects of the era. For close to thirty years, he designed, and made real the ideas that had, during his year in America, been far off concepts discussed at bars and in dorms rooms. In 1955, Tokyo overtook New York as the worlds most populous city. As the city recovered, and the economy, more people began heading towards the city, leaving density a question underpinning a lot of his work.

In the 1960s and 70s, these experiemental ideas gained more traction, as ideas of metabolist architecture grew in popularity, and strange organic structures began to eclipse brutalist and functionalist buildings that were boring.

But even his predilection for good luck, that which his family name derived from, was not enough. In 1969, Masaru began working alongside one of his colleagues. His academic bedfellow, his accomplice, his co-author. And for a few years it was good, and then it was plagued by competition, disagreement, accusations of plagiarism. From 1975, until 1978, Masaru found himself embroiled in a drama that refused to see him land on top.

Until, quite literally, it did. On top of the scaffolding for a half-finished new project that is. His rival pushed, Masaru pulled, and they both went down.

He woke up in Hell, blinking away the phosphenes of the Blue Light District, and it was perfect. By 1979, he'd sold his soul to Overlord Vox, and donned a new name: Takumi Himura, artisan of the red village.

Vox gave him something earth never had: freedom, money, and an expanding district, and most importantly, somewhere so embroiled in daily conflict and the yearly exterminations that work never tired. Anything he liked could be rebuilt, and anything he decided he didn't, would be taken care of soon enough, something new to replace it.

It's an ideal career, and Takumi has never regretted his choice. As the Blue Light District grew, and the needs of, and the pure numbers of the population did too, he was given more authority and more direct involvement with Vox. Now he's the executive in charge of the entire urban planning department. Everyone who deals with The BLD's infrastructure reports to him, even if his area of expertise remains architecture in specific.

It's a department of Vox's company, that while incredibly important, tends to deal more directly with Vox himself than a lot of other departments themselves. It's them who have been landed with the arduous, and seemingly impossible task of implementing a subway system to Pentagram City, a task they all take to with great enthusiasm.

At a certain point, Takumi is fairly certain that most of the architects in Pentagram City have eventually ended up working for Vox for many of the same reasons he himself did.

(picrew)

[londonhalcyon]

Writing has not been happening the past few weeks (the non-academic kind at least), so here’s an unedited snippet of Chapter 42 to tide you guys over. Enjoy the little sneak peek.

* * * *

On the afternoon of the 27th, Penny came with me to prep the thestrals. I hadn’t asked her to. She had volunteered, even after I had told her how long the flight would be. Each further attempt to deter her earned me a glare, but I still had to try one last time as we walked into the forest.

“We don’t both have to fly,” I said. “I can have Tenebrous follow me. We can meet you and Kingsley there.”

“It’ll be faster if I take him,” Penny said tersely.

“By a few minutes, maybe. It’s a two-hour flight, bareback. It’s not going to be fun.”

“I want to help. But since it’s obvious you don’t want me there—”

“I never said that.”

“Then stop arguing with me. I’m coming with you. That’s final.”

“I just don’t want you to put yourself under any unnecessary stress,” I said. She was afraid of heights for Merlin’s sake.

Penny tapped a finger to her chin. “Hmm, where have I heard that before?”

I rolled my eyes. “Point taken.”

We stopped a few meters into the trees, near where I had first taken the trio hunting for potion ingredients. A flat, grassy field stretched out at our backs. The perfect takeoff point.

Bringing my fingers to my lips, I gave a loud three-note whistle. The bushes rustled, and Nyx promptly trotted out of the shadows, her identifying scar visible on her flank. A younger male thestral trotted after her. Good, Hagrid had already sent them our way.

I levitated two dead birds out of my bag, which I flicked towards them. Each thestral caught the offering in its beak-like mouth with a disturbing crunch.

“Are you afraid I’ll freeze?” Penny asked. “When it matters, I mean.”

“I watched you stare down a werewolf last year,” I said. “You know it’s not that. I’m going to worry no matter what.”

“Tough luck, love.” But she said it with a smile.

I gave an exaggerated sigh. “I know.”

She lightly elbowed me. “Do we have everything we need?”

“I think so. Here, one second…”

I handed her half the gear in my bag: gloves, flight goggles, and a full face balaclava. No hoods. Certain things like “peripheral vision” and “not being mistaken for a Death Eater” seemed important.

I donned the same items myself, pulling the balaclava over my head until only my eyes and the bridge of my nose were exposed—then only the bridge of my nose after I added the goggles. We looked like we were on our way to rob a store, but anonymity was key. Plus, it was going to be frigid and dry in the air at that altitude, and I had no interest in going blind if my contacts dried out in the next two hours.

Penny held out her arms. “How do I look?”

Unrecognizable, if I hadn’t been close enough to see her eyes through her goggles. With her face covered and her hair completely tucked away, it would be impossible to tell who she was at a distance.

“Gray,” I said.

“How boring.”

“Like a shadow,” I amended.

“Better.”

We wore dark gray dueling robes, which were form-fitting enough that they wouldn’t get in the way, but just fluttery enough to make a more difficult target. The idea was that, in moments when there was at least a little light, the gray would blend in with the shadows better than pitch black. That was perhaps the paranoia talking by this point, especially when we had Disillusionment Charms at our disposal, but overkill was better than the alternative.

It would be fine. With luck, everything would go according to plan, and we wouldn’t even have to fight. The Death Eaters wouldn’t realize we had moved the date until it was too late, and by then, everyone would already be safe at the Burrow.

I tangled my hands in Nyx’s mane to hold them steady. I ignored the distant roaring in my ears. “Ready?”

Penny grabbed hold of Tenebrous. “Mind giving me a leg up?”

I gave her a boost. In the next minute, we were both on our thestrals, ready at the edge of the field.

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Scattering colorful petals around the Wild Flora Express for good luck

In Cotton Poppy Loch, it’s a custom to scatter a bouquet of petals around the Wild Flora train station to bring good luck. There’s always a gentle breeze blowing to the east towards the lake where the scattered petals eventually land. Watching the colorful petals fluttering in the sky before coming to a gentle landing in the water, there’s just something so peaceful about it. I don’t know, it’s kinda like telling me that the world may be chaotic and life may be giving you a hard time, but rest assured, like many moments in life, it will pass. And eventually, the dust will settle, and life will go on, just as it always does. Even though it’s obvious, sometimes we just really need to hear that just to be sure.

Unlike its neighboring city, Cotton Poppy Loach is relatively peaceful for the most part. The lake is right between two big cities, which are connected to other areas, and the only way to get across is through the Wild Flora Express, and so it is a major travel route. If something big happens around the area, there’s no doubt you’d hear about it here because word travels fast. Not only that, but if you know who and what to ask, you can even get some valuable intel on information that’s not even out to the public and only known to a select few. I know a couple people who could definitely pull something like that off - not me, obviously!

We came here just for a short vacation - the usual travels outside the camp to broaden our horizons and just appreciate the world and how vast it is - when we ran into the Epiphany crew. They’ve been dealing with an ongoing crisis in a planet called Gradient Ivory, which is about 50% resolved according to Landry, but right now there really isn’t anything they can do because they’re waiting on someone who seems to be taking their sweet time despite the situation. Well, it’s out of everyone’s hands, so the commander told the Epiphany that there’s no use in them sitting around and waiting, insisting that they take a break and that she’ll notify them the second that something comes up. Yang doesn’t have a solid confirmation on the identity of who that other person they’re waiting on, but if his speculations are spot on, then it’ll be a bit of a long wait.

As for whether or not that’s a good thing, no one knows. Sometimes all you can do is play it by ear and hope that everything somehow works out. Something about a broken clock being right twice a day. Or a man who sleeps with a machete is a fool every night but one. Kinda concerning that they’re putting everything on this one person who may or may not be able to help, but I trust their process. Sometimes you just have to see how things play out before making your next move. Otherwise, a wild card pops up and changes the whole board, so if you’re in the middle of something, too bad, you just wasted your time, better have another plan ready because things are quickly going south.

In the meantime, the Epiphany’s just gonna hang out here, mainly just to chill. Of course, they have their reasons for choosing Cotton Poppy Loach, which has to do with an acquaintance of Yang’s who is seeking refuge over there. That person is actually a noble, but to the general public he’s some eccentric mage known as Des. His family hails from the Kingdom of Cevilia, which is located to the north of Cotton Poppy - a two and a half hour ride on the Gold Route of the Wild Flora. He wasn’t personally involved in the incident that took place not too long ago, but his siblings and niece were.

The incident at the Cevilia Castle is one of those classified things that has been swept under the rug by authorities - or, at least that’s what they hoped would happen. Cotton Poppy is basically a hub for stuff like this as it’s considered a neutral zone for those trying to flee, as well as the best place to find out what really happened - that is, if you know how to seek out the right information without putting yourself and others in danger. Even though it looks relatively peaceful for the most part - which it is - there’s a lot going on behind the scenes.

In a way, the people here kinda serve to bring the truth to light and maintain stability, which makes sense because it’s kinda in the center of everything, especially the Wild Flora. If something happens, like political instability, then everyone’s basically fucked since a lot of places can only be accessible through the Wild Flora. There’s actually a contract that states that Cotton Poppy Loach will always be a neutral zone that’s accessible for all and that those who violate any of those terms will be severely punished because, like I said, the consequences would be disastrous.

As far as we know, no one has ever gone against that contract - I mean, you’d have to be really stupid enough to want to do something that actively ruins everyone’s lives and potentially lead to political strife. Then again, there’s (hopefully) very few people who actively want to see the world burn just so they can profit off it. Cotton Poppy Loch has its share of those kinds of people throughout history, and their attempts fail because they underestimated the relationships between Cotton Poppy and its neighboring cities. Their secret weapon? Effective and open communication.

Only a select few know Des’s true identity, including Yang and Hongxia. Des also happens to be a distant relative of Hongxia’s sister-in-law Liangli, whose family is from Cevilia. He actually met Hongxia over 20 years ago when he was passing by Qiangshou, long before Liangli was sent to the Senlin Pavilion to accompany her father and later marry the Tianlin. Obviously Hongxia didn’t recognize Des, though he noticed a bit of a resemblance between him and Liangli, who is said to look more Cevilian than Qiangshouian.

On a similar note, Des noted that Hongxia looks a lot like his brother, minus the Tianlin’s most distinguishing feature, which really is unusual. Hongxia says a lot of people claim to have met the Tianlin, so he has a quick way of verifying that by asking what he looks like. Basically, it’s not something you can miss because it will catch your eye the moment you look at the Tianlin. It’s the fact that he has a qilin horn on the left - a defining feature of his family that Hongxia also has. Yes, that’s right, one qilin horn, unlike Hongxia, who has two like most qilin would. On the right is a xieshi horn - a chipped one. Yeah, that’s not something you see every day.

So basically, the Tianlin family are qilin, like most of the noble families from the pavilion. Then came Lady Qiangwei, their mother, who is part xiezhi, so she and the Tianlin have that horn. Apparently, the current Tianlin’s appearance caused quite a stir in the pavilion as some saw it as a blessing, while others saw it as an abomination. The reason why his xiezhi is chipped is because his grandfather, his predecessor, tried to cut it off. Now the Tianlin shows off his chipped horn as a source of pride.

I’ve heard a lot of not so good things about the former Tianlin, mainly that he was a decent politician but a cold and arrogant person. His son, who never inherited the title, was another story - as in, he was and always will be remembered as a pedophile who hid behind his father. Lady Qiangwei was his second victim, the first being the daughter of a physician who gave birth to a daughter the family never fully acknowledged - something that Hongxia and his brother only found out a couple years ago. The first time, they brushed it under the rug, which was pointless because everyone already knew what really happened. They tried to cover it up again with Lady Qiangwei, except her family was of a higher ranking, and then she happened to give birth to a son, so the former Tianlin married his son off to her now that he had a successor.

I was aware that Hongxia had a dysfunctional family, but now after learning about how fucked up the previous generations were, it’s a damn miracle that he and his brother turned out to be decent people. Meiying and Yang credit Lady Qiangwei for protecting her sons from them. By the time Hongxia was born, his father had become a hermit while his grandfather was showing signs of senility. They both died within months of each other when he was around 13, and not too long after, a rebellion took place within the pavilion that his mother and brother played a big role in. More on that later as it’s kinda connected to why Des called for Yang.

So, an incident took place in Cevilia Castle, which is why Des is laying low at Cotton Poppy Loch. Although the officials don’t want to admit it, there has been growing dissent between the aristocrats and the common folk that’s been brewing for the past 20 years or so. The current regime had become arrogant and greedy, which is why Des and his siblings chose to distance themselves from the aristocrats to the point that most people are unaware of their true identities. But now, with the current state of things being a fucking mess, he might have to reveal his true self and retire his Des persona for good, something he prefers to avoid as it’ll bring on more trouble for him later on. Politics really is troublesome.

A protest took place at the castle that was led by Des’s adoptive niece Eliandra over a decree the aristocrats put out the week before that would result in an entire village being kicked out of their homes because one of the aristocrats claimed that his family owned the land and so he could do whatever he wanted with it. Seriously, the nerve of some people! Who does that guy think he is, barging into people’s homes and telling them to leave so he could build a mansion over it? And if anyone protested, he’d be like, “Shut up, I have money. I can do whatever the fuck I want.” Ugh, yeah, I can see why this would cause an uproar because it’s fucking wrong.

Although Eliandra is officially Des’s niece by blood, she was actually born to a commoner family in a nearby village. She was born with an incurable disease and wasn’t expected to live past the age of 8. However, medical science broke through when she was 7, buying her time she never thought she would have, and she became part of an experimental treatment regime conducted by a bunch of scientists, including Des’s brother Felicio. Their sister Graciele, who was a baby at the time, was also a patient. The treatments later proved to be effective in suppressing the illness, allowing Eliandra and Graciele to grow up and experience less debilitating symptoms. However, there’s no telling what will change in the long term as it’s been only about a decade, but for Graciele, who started treatments at a very young age, she has been doing well for the most part. It’s not a cure, but at least it’s likely she’ll live into adulthood without being completely incapacitated.

Around the same time Eliandra started her treatment regime, she was training to be a priestess at the castle, so she became a regular over there. Des said she was a feisty young thing, a precocious girl full of wisdom beyond her years, yet she was no pushover. She was the kind of person who wouldn’t hesitate to call out on anyone’s bullshit, which was why she immediately butted heads with Des’s uncle, a former priest who saw the common folk as livestock, being he can control like he was playing God or something.

He initially took an interest in Eliandra at first because of her unusual composition, a side effect of her condition, which meant she had an unusual amount of mana that made her a valuable tool - the biggest concern being whether or not her body could handle it. Of course, he was only interested in using her. Then he found out she was a commoner, the daughter of a guard and an accountant, and he took that an an insult, calling her a fraud and insulting her parents. She lost her temper, which meant losing control of her powers, and he used that as an excuse as to why she would make an incompetent priestess. Then for some reason Eliandra was forced to apologize to him or else her parents could be executed, which is just fucked up.

Des said it could’ve been worse if Felicio hadn’t stepped in, who also clashed with the uncle often. Still, despite Felicio’s efforts, his uncle tried to sabotage Eliandra, only to be outsmarted by her. Eventually, he took things too far by endangering Eliandra and her family by selling her out to some shady organization that planned to use her as a weapon. Des is sure that Eliandra would’ve killed him if he and Felicio hadn’t intervened in time, which would have gotten her executed, even if it was justified.

That whole thing resulted in a huge mess that forced Des to show himself, as well as make a proposition that will save Eliandra from severe punishment, but with a price. She would have to live under a new identity as Des’s niece and grow up as an aristocrat’s daughter. Yang added that it’s not unusual for a noble to adopt someone with a unusual composition like Eliandra and pass them off as their own, often for their own gain and to keep them close. Since those like her typically die young, it’s also not unusual for them to be kept out of the public eye until they reach a certain age, which is sad. At least he allowed her parents to keep an eye on her from a distance and allowed her to talk to them if they ran into each other as long as they don’t act overly familiar.

Years passed and Eliandra adjusted to her new life. Although the uncle was out of the picture, he had a few loyal followers known as Purists who wanted to avenge his execution, including Des’s stepmother, his uncle’s half-sister. That small group was the one behind that decree Eliandra and her friends protested against. And that wasn’t the only problem with them. Eliandra and Felicio also uncovered that they were also planning to seize control of the Wild Flora as well as take over Cotton Poppy Loch, which is a big no-no.

Des blames himself for what happened afterwards. Had he known about his stepmother’s ties to a major weapons manufacturing company, he would’ve stopped told Eliandra to call off the sit-in and come up with another plan. The Purists knew where they’d be protesting and rigged the area with well hidden bombs. They went off, injuring and killing protesters and civilians. Eliandra was unfortunately one of the casualties along with a couple of her closest friends. Felicio managed to save countless lives, but was severely injured in the process and is currently in a coma. Graciele was there too and escaped with minor injuries.

And now here we are. Des is laying low for now while he tries to come up with a plan to retaliate. The Purists are already in hot water, but he suspects that will be the least of their problems. There already has been a divide within the aristocrats, and this incident will likely bring more conflicts to light. Ugh, I feel bad for him. While a part of him wants to take his siblings and make a run for it, he knows that Eliandra will likely kick his ass and call him a stupid coward - because she’s right. After all, he’s part of it too whether he likes it or not, and if he’s serious about setting himself apart from the other aristocrats by showing solidarity with the common folk, he needs to mean it. Words can only take you so far, and unless you don’t get your hands dirty and take action, all you’re offering is empty gestures. Good to know that he’s serious and not just all talk in order to please the masses.

Although the situation in Qiangshou was nowhere as drastic, the divide in the pavilion caused a lot of conflict and upheaval. The former Tianlin wanted to seize control of the pavilion despite the fact that he was clearly unfit to maintain a political position, especially one as powerful as Tianlin. He and his successor, the current Tianlin clashed constantly, and he was becoming threatened by his grandson once he realized that his successor would surpass him. Also, the current Tianlin is a compassionate yet strict leader who actually cares about the common folk, so it’s no wonder why everyone was so eager for him to step up.

Eventually, that led to a confrontation between the Tianlins and a couple of the former’s loyal retainers. The meeting turned out to be an assassination attempt, a feeble last-ditch attempt by the former Tianlin in keeping a hold on the pavilion that was one of his many poorly thought out plans throughout his final months. What exactly happened during that meeting continues to be debated, but one thing was certain, only the current Tianlin, Lady Qiangwei, and his guard walked out of that room.

What happened afterwards was like a domino effect thing with other families rebelling against their predecessors, mainly those who were loyal to the former Tianlin. Hongxia recalled that it was an uncertain time where everything was unstable as people were either leaving or getting kicked out. The scariest thing for him and his family was the fact that they were targets for assassinations for almost an entire year afterwards. He remembers at least 5 attempts against his life being averted, mainly through poisoning. And he doesn’t even want to think about how many near misses his mother and brother had. Like, damn, that’s horrifying, and he was just a kid at the time.

It’s too early to tell as everything’s still a mess, but it’s likely that Cevilia would experience something similar in the aftermath. At least Felicio and Graciele are safe - that was Des’s main priority. He already has a couple plans in mind, but they’ve all reached snags at different points, so he’s reaching out for help, specifically towards those who have some experience in that sort of thing. Yang’s gotten involved in political messes, so he has a lot to say on that. While Hongxia wasn’t personally involved in the Qiangshou affairs, Des said his insight is just as valuable since he lived through it, which gives him some much needed perspective as whatever happens next will have an effect on those who aren’t involved, namely the common folk, so if possible, he hopes to avoid causing too much disruption for them.

Well, that was a lot to take in, but that’s kind of the nature of a place like Cotton Poppy Loch. There’s often a lot going on in the background that may or may not impact your life in some way. The people here worked hard to maintain the peace, and it really shows. Des said the Wild Flora is the heart of the lake, like the circulatory system. Without the heart, the body would cease to function, which is why he can’t let the Purists achieve their final goal of getting their hands on the Wild Flora.

After learning about all that, I see why scattering petals for good luck is a big deal. It’s because of what the Wild Flora stands for - hope, peace, and stability. Things that can often be too easily taken for granted.

Read on AO3

[davidwhinney1996]

Behind the Scenes: How Music PR Gurus Get Artists Into Rolling Stone

Picture this: you’ve spent months perfecting your latest track. You’ve played gigs in tiny venues — sticky floors, half-empty rooms — and shared demos online, hoping someone notices. You’ve got a small crew of fans, but you’re still waiting for the world to care. That’s where Rolling Stone steps in. Even in 2025, a feature in this magazine tells everyone — fans, bookers, labels, investors — that you mean business. It lifts your streaming numbers, lands you on festival lineups, and opens doors you didn’t know existed.

Why does it still carry weight? Trust. Rolling Stone has been a name in music for decades. People turn to it to find out who’s worth listening to. When they feature you, it’s not just exposure — it’s proof you’ve got something real. In a sea of uploads on Spotify and SoundCloud, Rolling Stone cuts through the clutter. It says you’re not just another artist with a laptop.

Take Jake, a indie rocker from Austin. He’d been grinding for years, booking his own shows, scraping by. Then he landed a Rolling Stone feature. Within weeks, his streams jumped 40%, and he got a call to open for a bigger act. “It was wild,” he told me. “One day I’m begging for gigs, the next I’m turning them down.” That’s what a feature can do — it flips the script.

The numbers back this up. Rolling Stone pulls in over 60 million online visitors every month. That’s a huge audience waiting to discover you. And when they run your story, other sites often pick it up — blogs, local papers, even bigger outlets. It’s a chain reaction. Your name spreads fast.

But here’s the catch: they don’t feature just anyone. Thousands of artists pitch them every week. Only a few get through. Why? Editors want stories, not just songs. They want a reason to care. You could have the best track out there, but if you don’t stand out, you’re lost in the pile. That’s why pros — like PR agencies — exist. They know how to turn your music into a story Rolling Stone can’t pass up.

What about you? What’s your story? Have you got a track that could catch their eye — or a moment in your life that ties it all together? Think about it. Rolling Stone isn’t out of reach — it’s just a matter of knowing how to get there.

How PR Agencies Make It Happen

Landing a Rolling Stone feature sounds daunting, right? You’re not wrong — editors get buried in pitches daily. Most don’t even get a reply. But PR agencies don’t mess around. They’ve got a system. Here’s how they crack it.

They Nail the Pitch

Say you’ve got a new single. You might think, “I’ll just email it to Rolling Stone and see what happens.” Good luck — editors trash generic stuff in seconds. PR pros don’t take that chance. They dig into who’s who at the magazine. They find out which editor covers your genre, what they’ve written lately, and what grabs their attention. Then they write a pitch that fits like a glove.

For example, they might tie your single to something big happening now — an award show, a social movement, a trend in music. They’ll drop a line about a recent Rolling Stone piece to show they’ve done the work. And they’ll throw in an exclusive hook — maybe a behind-the-scenes look at how you made the track. It’s not a random shot. It’s a direct hit.

They Time It Perfectly

Timing matters — a lot. Send your pitch too late, and your moment’s gone. Send it too early, and it’s forgotten. PR agencies watch the clock. They know when Rolling Stone plans features and when editors need fresh ideas. They match your release to that rhythm.

But it’s more than just the magazine’s schedule. They look at what’s happening around you. Is a big event coming up? A cultural shift brewing? They’ll frame your music as part of it. If your song fits a protest or a holiday vibe, they pitch it that way. Editors love stories that feel current.

Data helps too. If your streams climb or you hit a playlist, they use those stats to show you’re on fire. I heard about an agency that tracked a client’s single hitting 50,000 streams in a day. They pitched it to Rolling Stone with that number front and center. The editor saw the buzz and ran a piece. Timing plus proof equals results.

Ever wonder when your next release should drop? Could you tie it to something bigger? PR folks figure that out so you don’t have to.

They Lean on Relationships

Editors aren’t robots — they’re people. PR agencies build ties with them. They meet at events, swap emails, share updates. Over time, editors start to trust them. When a pitch lands, it’s not from a stranger — it’s from someone they know.

Say you’ve got a win like landing on Forbes 30 Under 30. A PR team drops that into the conversation. Suddenly, your pitch has weight. Relationships turn cold emails into warm handshakes.

I’ve seen this play out. A PR agent spent months chatting with a Rolling Stone editor — nothing pushy, just updates on artists. When their client dropped an EP, the editor wrote back, “Send me more.” The feature was a done deal. Trust pays off.

They Tell Your Bigger Story

Rolling Stone doesn’t just want music — they want culture. PR agencies get that. They don’t pitch your track alone — they pitch you as someone shaping the scene. Maybe your sound uses new tech, or your lyrics hit on something raw. They make you a player, not just a playlist.

They might even aim for Wired Magazine first, showing off your tech angle. That win becomes ammo for Rolling Stone. They’ll weave in details — your process, your collabs, your take on music today — to give editors a full picture.

One artist I know got pitched as part of the lo-fi boom. His agency tied his bedroom recordings to a bigger trend, offering a deep dive into his setup. Rolling Stone bit. His story went beyond the song — it became a snapshot of now.

What’s your angle? Are you just making music, or are you part of something larger? Agencies find that thread and pull it.

What If You’re Short on Cash?

You don’t need a big budget to get noticed. PR agencies adapt. They might offer Rolling Stone an exclusive premiere of your track — editors jump at first dibs. Or they’ll set up a small listening party, invite a few writers, and let your music do the talking.

They could pitch you to smaller outlets first — local blogs or niche sites. Those wins stack up, creating buzz Rolling Stone can’t ignore. Or they’ll plan your release around events where press show up, like a music festival. Smart moves don’t always cost much.

I heard about a folk artist who threw a pop-up gig in a friend’s basement. His PR team invited local writers — 20 people showed up, including a Rolling Stone freelancer. A month later, he got a write-up. Low cost, big return.

Why One Feature Won’t Cut It

A single Rolling Stone story is a win, but PR agencies aim higher. They want you back — again and again. Maybe a cover down the line. How do they pull that off? They keep the ball rolling.

They send editors updates — your next single, a tour announcement, a collab. They share early demos or invite them to your shows. Over time, you’re not a one-off — you’re a name they track. Your career becomes their story.

Think about a rapper who got a quick mention in a Rolling Stone roundup. His agency kept the editor in the loop — new tracks, a viral video, a packed gig. Six months later, he landed a full profile. Now he’s a regular.

How do you stay on their radar? What’s your next move worth sharing? Agencies don’t let you fade out.

Real Wins From Real Artists

Let’s get concrete. Picture a hip-hop artist in Miami, unsigned, with a loyal local crew. His PR team saw his latest track hit 300,000 streams. They pitched it to Rolling Stone, linking it to a trap revival, and threw in those numbers. The editor replied in a day. The feature dropped, and his next show sold out.

Or take a pop singer from LA. She’d been hustling for years — decent streams, no big break. Her agency pitched her new ballad, tying it to a mental health push she cared about. They shared her personal story. Rolling Stone ran a piece. Her streams doubled in a week.

Then there’s a rock band that hired a PR Agency for Celebrity campaigns. The agency scored them a Rolling Stone blurb and a TV spot. Bookings tripled. One move led to another.

These aren’t flukes. PR pros made them happen. Could your music do the same? What’s the hook that gets you there?

Your Next Steps

Want that Rolling Stone feature? Here’s what you can do — solo or with help.

Find your story. What makes you different? Write it down — keep it real.

Track your stats. Streams, gig turnout, playlist adds — numbers matter.

Time it right. Drop your track when the world’s paying attention — an event, a trend, a moment.

Reach out. Follow Rolling Stone editors online. Send a short, personal email — no copy-paste junk.

Think bigger. Link your music to culture — tech, issues, vibes. Give them a reason.

Start small. Hit up local sites first. Small wins build to big ones.

Feel overwhelmed? A PR agency can handle this. 9Figure Media gets artists into Forbes, Bloomberg, Business Insider, and WSJ — guaranteed publicity that drives sales. They’ve got the moves down pat.

Beyond Rolling Stone: What PR Really Does

A PR agency isn’t just about one feature. They save you time — hours you’d spend chasing contacts or drafting emails. They bring connections you’d need years to build. And they score coverage that grows your name — playlists, radio, interviews.

Take that rock band again. Their PR Agency for Celebrity team got them Rolling Stone and a late-night show. Their calendar filled up fast. One win snowballed.

Or look at credibility. A big feature tells fans and pros you’re legit. Streams rise — data shows a 30% bump after major press. Sales follow. Opportunities knock.

Ever think about how much time you spend chasing exposure? A PR team hands it to you — ready to roll.

Questions to Keep You Thinking

What’s your next track about — beyond the sound? Who’s already listening — can you prove it? When’s the best time to push it? Are you ready to pitch, or do you need a hand? Your answers point the way.

Getting into Rolling Stone takes effort. You need a sharp pitch, perfect timing, and the right people. You can grind it out alone, but PR agencies make it faster — and smarter. If you’re ready to move, 9Figure Media can get you into major outlets and build trust that turns into sales. Your music’s worth it. Let’s make it loud.

[imaginationofomi]

Come Together

Thirty-Seven

It was perfect. Or at least it looked perfect. It certainly looked better than the picture on the website where she'd found the recipe.

Nayeli made hundreds of desserts in her lifetime, but the cake she baked for Isaiah's birthday was something she hadn't tried before. Home cooks and some self-proclaimed chefs wrote of how similar it was to rum cake. While the baking process had similarities no matter the flavor, she found that the only thing Guyanese black cake and rum cake had in common was alcohol content.

While a batch of infused whipped cream finished up, she packed the cake into a box and snatched a few crumbs for a taste test. To her, the cake was amazing, but she didn't know what exactly it was supposed to taste like, if all the flavors that were supposed to be there popped out, if it tasted anything like his mom's. Some recipes were personal, and she likely had a few secret ingredients. Nayeli did her best. That was all that mattered.

She put the whipped cream in a separate container and pulled her hairnet off as she walked out of the kitchen. "Grace, hold down the fort. I'll be back in a few hours," she said, heading for her office so she could grab her purse.

"Got it, Boss."

Danielle click clacked away on the keyboard, wireless earbud in and closing out an important conversation. She bid the person on the phone adieu and stopped typing as Nayeli picked up her handbag.

"We need to talk when you get back," Danielle said, face neutral.

"That doesn't sound good."

"It could be good. It could be bad."

"Just tell me now." Nayeli didn't want to deal with the anticipation while she was with Isaiah. She would be worry about what could be when she was supposed to be thinking about him.

"The owner is selling the building. The block, actually."

"Shit. It's almost time to renew our lease, too." She was a glass half full kind of girl, so she wanted to believe that the new owner wouldn't come in and try to force everyone out by hiking up the prices. However, the world was a selfish place, and most people were looking to make a dollar no matter the cost. They were already in a high rent district. Luck wasn't likely to be on their side, "Can we afford a rent increase?"

"A small one. Anything more than 4 percent, and we're toeing a very dangerous line."

"I have cushion money if we need it." EJ kept her pockets padded while they were together. Between never letting her spend her own money and the weekly allowance, she had a fat savings account tucked away for emergencies.

"Hopefully we won't need it. The weddings are keeping us in good territory."

"They're going to slow down after October. We have time, but we need to figure something out before then."

"We will. There's no doubt in my mind. You go do whatever you were doing. I'll come up with the first game plan, and we'll talk more when you get back."

Nayeli was worried, but not too worried. God hadn't failed her yet.

Being that it was early afternoon, she got caught in the lunch rush traffic of people heading back to their offices and other places of employment. It wouldn't have bothered her if she wasn't trying to make it to the fire station before they were called out.

She noticed an uptick in first responder presence, not unusual in the middle of fire season, but the last time she visited, she'd only seen her Isaiah for a couple of minutes and her dad for about thirty seconds before the alarm sounded, and they were called to a fire started by a fallen power line.

That day, she found favor. The garage doors were open when she pulled up and parked. A couple of rookies were cleaning hoses while a few more checked the trucks for what needed maintenance. She greeted who she knew by name, waved at the others and walked inside. The reception desk was empty, and people were scattered around. She dropped the cake and whipped cream off in the kitchen and found Isaiah in the day room with Tommy, Marshall, and Andrea playing Mortal Kombat on a PS5.

"Nothing but a bunch of big ass kids," she laughed as Marshall put his hand in Andrea's face to block her vision. They cursed and protested along with Tommy when Isaiah paused the match and got up to hug her, "Happy birthday!" she said loudly and grinned up at him.

"Thank you, Lil Bit." Their hug was longer than normal in the presence of his colleagues but still too brief for her. Outside of the station, they never held back. She was worried about her dad inserting himself into their business, but with EJ permanently out of the picture, the hard questions she didn't want to answer were obsolete. And she was sure people were catching onto them anyway.

"I left a surprise for you in the kitchen." Ignoring the stares of the other firefighters, she tugged him along and unclipped the tabs on the plastic cake holder. She lifted the top and presented it to him, "Tada!"

"Is this....."

"Guyanese black cake. You have to tell me how I did. I've never made it before." He smiled at her, nodding slowly before he closed his eyes and rubbed them. Nayeli panicked and touched his arms as he started sniffling, "Oh no. What did I do?"

"Nothing. I haven't had it since my mom passed." Tears made his eyes red. He wiped his face with his t-shirt and pulled her into another hug, rubbing her back and pressing repeated kisses to her forehead, "She made it for me and my dad all the time."

"I'll make you one every year until we croak," Nayeli promised, not caring if anyone saw her kiss him, "Wait, taste it before I agree to that," she said, breaking off a tiny piece because the whole thing was potent with liquor. She fed it to him and waited for his reaction. His eyes bugged then closed. He reached into the container for another piece, "I did good?"

"You did amazing. Thank you." He held her neck and brought his lips down to hers again. Rubbing her cheek with his thumb, he looked into her eyes and said, "I love you, Nayeli." She knew it to be true, but she was stunned all the same. She recovered quickly, opening her mouth to respond when a loud alarm halted their conversation. There was an apartment building on fire, and Isaiah jumped into action, "I'll see you tomorrow." He kissed her quickly before he ran off to do his job.

Nayeli stood in a daze for a minute, cheeks aching from grinning. To love and be loved. That was what life was about. She lost a lot in a short amount of time, but she would always be a lover girl. It was just in her.

Closing the cake box, she labeled it as Isaiah's along with the whipped cream and left both in the refrigerator for him. The streets were less crowded on her way back to the bakery, but the line inside was long for the time of day. She said hi to a couple of her regulars and went into her office.

Danielle worked nonstop in her absence, and Nayeli felt even less worried once her plans for the potential future of the business were laid out. Danielle had excellent ideas and even started shopping for locations with a similar amount of foot traffic in a decent price range. Push came to shove, they were going to be okay.

The afternoon wound down, transitioning into evening. Nayeli would be the last one out that day. She hadn't closed the store herself in a while, but she wanted to get some things done and let her employees go early.

She checked inventory, added up receipts, closed out the register and started deep cleaning behind the service counter. Making it a once a week task kept the work from being too hard or time consuming, but no one enjoyed moving or taking apart machines to clean them. She put on music to help her along, and it drowned out the sound of someone walking in but not their voice.

"I was hoping you were still open."

"We're not. I just forgot to lock the door." She didn't have to turn around to know who was there with her. That voice soothed her so many nights she knew it like the back of her hand, "There's nothing in the kitchen, so you can go," she said, lowering the music to pay better attention to her surroundings. She still had her back to him, but she could feel that he hadn't moved, "I don't hear you leaving." No footsteps then, either. Sighing, she turned around to face her troubles that weren't supposed to be troubles anymore, "What do you want, EJ?"

"To apologize," he said. His eyes were tired, shoulders slumped. Even with a fresh haircut, it was easy to tell that he was going through it.

"I don't really care to hear your apology but thanks. You can go now." She pointed to the door only for him not to budge.

"Tati misses you."

"I wonder why."

"I'm sorry."

"That's all you have to say? Do you even know what you're apologizing for?" she asked.

"Being a bitch," he answered her, "Wrong is wrong, and I know I'm wrong. I was pissed off, same way you would've been had I brought some bullshit about an open relationship to you, but that had nothing to do with your relationship with Tati. You mean a lot to her, and I know she means a lot to you. I shouldn't have lied to her, and I shouldn't have cut you off from her."

"She must be giving you hell." Nayeli laughed humorlessly, pushing the cappuccino machine back into place.

"She is, but that's not the point. I spent all that time talking shit about Savannah not wanting to be a parent and fucking up Tati's head, and my actions weren't any better. She's down two moms because of me. I need to fix that."

"I'm sure your next girlfriend will be happy to take on the responsibility. Just warn her you like to snatch things when you get mad." It was good that he finally came to his senses, but she didn't appreciate the way he handled things. When he said what he said to her at the pier, she expected that to be the last time they had any type of contact with each other. She wasn't down for anything else at that moment.

"You really have changed," EJ said, tone laced with disappointment, and it made her angry.

"Why wouldn't I after being traumatized by one man that I loved and shit on multiple times by another? Why wouldn't that change me?" she demanded to know.

"You used to understand that people fuck up. You didn't write them off because of it."

"You see where all of that got me. I've been passive my whole life. People have walked all over me my whole life. I didn't write you off until you decided that I didn't deserve to be a part of Tatiana's life because I asked for something you weren't even willing to discuss. I'm finally standing up for myself and setting boundaries and suddenly I'm in the wrong? I'm no longer the meek little woman that holds her tongue and accepts everything so now I'm a bad person?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. Your tone said it all. I'm not reacting the way you want me to, and you can't stand it. Well, none of what you are going through is my problem. You made sure of that," she snapped and turned her back to him once again.

"Alright, I get it. We're not cool anymore."

"Glad you got the hint."

"Tati wants to see you." His audacity truly knew no bounds.

"No."

"What do you mean no? The whole point of me coming down here was—"

"To try to manipulate me. It's not happening. I don't want to see her unless you have your shit together," she started, "She needs to know the truth. You need to explain that we are not together and will not be in the future. She should understand what that means, and it might change her mind about wanting to see me. If she's okay with it, I want something in writing because you're not going to use her as a pawn. She doesn't deserve to be jerked around whenever your feelings towards me change. If you can't give me paperwork, leave me out of it. It was hard enough saying goodbye to her the first time. I don't want to have to do it again." Some would consider her demands unreasonable, and she was counting on that this time around. Whatever would get him to leave her alone.

"I hear you. I'll take care of it, butI don't like this side of you."

"I don't like what I've seen of you either. You hurt me intentionally. You've thrown what you've done for me in my face when I never asked for any of it. You pushed for me to be a parent and then decided to erase me from the picture. Over and over again, you made a choice to show me that you never truly loved me. I am tired, and you have disrespected me for the last time," she stated firmly.

"You got one thing wrong. I do love you."

"How could you? What in your actions screams love?"

"You're not the only one that's hurt." He dodged the question.

"I'm very aware of that. We haven't been able to address how you were feeling because.....oh, right. You were ignoring me and treating me like shit when you did acknowledge me. Instead of talking about your feelings, you just reacted. You're two for two at this point."

"Third time's the charm." He tried to lighten the mood, but her face said everything that didn't come out of her mouth.

"My mind hasn't changed."

"I never thought it did."

Her phone cut into the conversation, and she enthusiastically answered the unknown number so she could have a few minutes of reprieve from EJ.

"Hello?"

"Nayeli? it's Jessica." Her voice was shaky and worried, never a good sign coming from the wife of a first responder.

"Hey. You don't sound so good. Is everything okay?"

"It was bad today, it was so bad. They thought everyone was out, but there was a boy trapped inside and Isaiah went back in. He got the boy out and then the roof collapsed on him," Jessica rushed out. Every inch of Nayeli's body went cold.

"Please tell me he's not dead," she whispered, her eyes sliding shut as her heartbeat slowed.

"He's in the hospital. I don't know details, and no one knows who to call for him. Tommy said you guys are close and he needs someone there for him."

"Text me the name of the hospital. I'm leaving now." She hung up and abandoned the cleaning supplies, pushing EJ toward the exit.

"Hospital?"

"This does not concern you at all. Out." She forced him through the door and locked it, running around to turn lights off and make sure other doors were locked before she hopped in her car and followed her GPS to the hospital.

She stopped at the desk to grab a visitor's pass and get the information she needed.

"Hi, I'm looking for Isaiah Patton," she said, trying not to sound too panicked.

"Are you immediate family?"

"He doesn't have any immediate family. I'm his girlfriend."

"Name?"

"Nayeli Gallagher." A woman that was passing by stopped when she heard her name.

"I'll take it from here, Jocelyn," the nurse said, leading Nayeli away from the desk, "He asked for you after he came off the anesthesia. I'm Camille, his nurse. He's in recovery, pretty banged up, but he's okay. There's a lot of bruising. The worst of it is the broken tibia, but he's already had surgery. I'll let his doctor know that you're here."

"Thank you."

"Are you planning to stay the night? I could have a cot brought out for you." 

"Yes, please." Nayeli made the decision to stay before she even made it out of her car. The light in his room was on, but when she first opened the door, it looked like he was sleeping. The creaking made him open his eyes, and she smiled at him, "Hey," she said softly, walking up to his bedside and sliding her hand into his. He had a few cuts on his face, a bruise near his temple, right leg in a cast.

"I didn't think I was gonna see you until tomorrow. Your dad said he didn't want to worry you."

"It's okay. Jessica called me, and I'm glad she did." Bending down, she kissed his lips and leaned her forehead on his. "I am so happy to see you alive and breathing. When she told me the roof collapsed on you, I thought the worst."

"I'm okay. I've broken bones before. Sorry I ruined our camping trip, though."

"I don't give a damn about a camping trip. You're okay. That's all I care about." She kissed him again and exhaled slowly. "I love you, too," she said, heart swelling when his face lit up, "You had to go before I got the chance to say it back."

"Tell me again."

"I love you."

He grabbed her face weakly, groaning in pain as he slipped his tongue past her lips. The nurse told the truth about him being banged up, but he would suffer through all the pain in the world for the woman beside him, "I've been hoping to hear you say that for the last seven years."

"Get ready to be sick of hearing it."

Reality hit her that day. Every time he went to work, his life was on the line. She thought she understood that having a firefighter for a father, but a new level of fear was unlocked. She couldn't ever allow him to leave without knowing that he was loved and cared for.

"I'll never get sick of it. Come here." He scooted over to the best of his ability, leaving some room for her to climb into the bed with him. 

She hesitantly walked around to the other side, "Are you sure it's okay? I don't want to hurt you. Your nurse said you were bruised." 

"You weigh two pounds. I'll be alright. I just want to hold you right now."

Climbing into the bed, she kept most of her weight off of him, lightly placing a hand on his chest next to her head. She could breathe easy knowing he would live to see another day, but she worried about the next time she would get a frantic phone call.