#I feel like starting a bit shorter might get me back into it? I'm hoping so anyway ^^;))

[astral-athame]

((I need to start writing more again.

That said:

IF ANYONE* WANTS TO START SOMETHING NEW, TAP THE HEART AND I'LL TRY TO GET A SHORT STARTER WRITTEN UP FOR YOU THIS WEEKEND.

*This goes for new and old mutuals, people I've never written with, people I've written with a TON, anyone who thinks they might want to explore a specific dynamic with Cassia (ships, friendships, even enemies or something, etc). I just want to get back into writing please;;))

[kookooluvr]

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE — PART 2

jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

w/c: 2.7k

warnings: we meet jk's friends and tae makes his first appearance (we'll be seeing a lot more of him in future), oc is sick with a cold, jk is a simp and drops everything to make her feel better, lots of fluff, nothing explicit in this one, we find out some more of oc's rules, SATC mentioned, some marvel talk, talk of jk having a nice ass, mostly just lots of soft feels in this one <3

a/n: i'm so happy to see the amount of love part 1 got !!! part 2 is a bit shorter, but i think it's important to see their dynamic outside of the whole fwb thing. i'm aiming for the upcoming parts to be longer, i promise. i hope you enjoy all the feels in this one, and don't be shy to send me your feedback 🫶🏼💋

SERIES MASTERLIST

SPOTIFY PLAYLIST

Jungkook sits at a table in a rather fancy restaurant, half-listening to his friends as they joke about something over dinner. They've been meaning to get together for a while but they've all been so busy with work and their personal lives that it just never worked out until tonight. Well, it worked out tonight because Taehyung practically forced everyone to come.

"Yo, earth to Jungkook."

He looks over at Jimin with raised eyebrows, realizing he was caught staring at his phone in his lap. He knows he should be paying attention to the conversation happening around him, and he knows that it's rude to be on his phone while he's in company, but he hasn't heard from you all day and usually you would've exchanged words (or funny memes) by now.

It's not that he MUST speak to you all day, every day to survive, but it just happens. If he sees a funny video of a cat on TikTok, he sends it to you. If you forgot how to do something on Excel, you text him and he replies within two minutes to explain how to do it. Sometimes he even goes through the trouble of doing it himself, screen recording it and sending it to you to give you a step-by-step guide. That's just how it goes with the two of you.

"Huh? Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was just asking if there's a special someone in your life," Jimin says with a little grin, resting his chin in the palm of his hand.

"Actually, what he asked was if you're still on track to die alone," Namjoon quips, Jimin waving him off with a little "eh, same thing".

Jungkook rolls his eyes, flatly denying any romantic relations. It's not like he's lying. He just can't say that he might have started developing feelings for the woman he's casually sleeping with, so he just settles on, "Naah, I'm too busy with work." It's easier.

They know their friend is a terrible liar, but they also know that he would tell them if he really wanted to, so they don't pry. They've heard your name once or twice in passing, a little comment here and there like '___ likes that movie' or '___ uses this perfume'. As far as they know, you're his work friend. That's it. Even Taehyung doesn't know much about you, and he works at the same university as an English Literature lecturer, which brings us to rule #2.

Rule #2: It stays between us. It's just less complicated if less people know, and Jungkook knows that if his friends knew about it, they'd be pestering him about you all night and he doesn't need that right now, especially when his eyes drift back down to his phone and there's still no text from you.

You're in bed, surrounded by snotty tissues and a sleeping Miso, who really couldn't care less that you just underwent a violent coughing fit. You're about to doze off, when your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You check the notification, and when you see who it's from, you swear you feel your heart rate rise, but maybe it's just from all the coughing.

prof jeon |7:50pm]: hey, you. prof jeon 17:50pm]: haven't heard from you all day... prof jeon [7:51pm]: are you mad at me bc i said sex in the city was boring??? 👀😭😭

You [7:51pm]: first of all, it's sex AND the city 💀 You [7:52pm]: and it's not boring, you're just a nerd who can't watch anything other than marvel

He laughs, knowing he should've expected that response. Your next message comes through shortly after.

You [7:53pm]: sorry for the radio silence You [7:53pm]: i have a nasty cold 😵‍💫 You [7:53pm]: feel like i was hit by a bus You [7:53pm]: took some cough drops and slept for most of the day

He really shouldn't feel the need to immediately rush to your aid, but he does.

prof jeon [7:53pm]: want me to come over?

You [7:54pm]: you don't have to do that, kook You [7:54pm]: i don't wanna get my germs all over you 😕

prof jeon [7:54pm]: don't be silly   prof jeon [7:54pm]: i’ve had your bodily fluids on me before, who cares about a little snot 😂😂😂   prof jeon [7:55pm]: i can be there in a little bit 

You [7:56pm]: you're gross 🙄 You [7:56pm]: and really nice

prof jeon [7:56pm]: see you in a bit x

He excuses himself from dinner with the excuse of a family emergency and promises his friends to hang out again soon. He grabs his coat and heads out to his car, making a stop at your favourite Vietnamese restaurant for some pho before driving over to your place.

You unlocked the door to your apartment and dragged yourself back to bed as soon as he texted you to let you know he's on his way up. You hear the door open and in walks Jungkook, looking very handsome you might add.

"You're dressed awfully fancy to take care of my cold," you tease with a little smile, your eyes drifting down to the plastic bag in his hand, a bag you know all too well due to countless trips to that specific Vietnamese restaurant. "And you brought food?"

He smiles as he removes his coat and walks over to the side of your bed, placing the pho on your nightstand before sitting down on the edge of the bed, clearly not bothered by the array of tissues scattered around the duvet. Miso sees him and gets up from her spot on the bed, sauntering off to the living room, almost as if she knows her mom is about to get folded like a pretzel again. But Jungkook's not here for that tonight.

"I was actually out at dinner with some friends when I texted you. And I thought you might've been too lazy to get up and actually eat dinner, so I brought soup."

The thought of him dropping his plans with his friends just to come over and take care of you fills you with a warm, fuzzy feeling. Maybe it's just your high temperature. Maybe it's the fact that he's just so kind to you. Whatever the reason may be, you're too sick and weak to fight the soft smile tugging at your lips.

"Thank you, Jungkook."

"Don't thank me. I just didn't want you to drown in your own mucus."

Your laugh makes his heart feel funny, even if it barely managed to escape your sore throat.

He opens the lid of the steaming hot pho and holds a spoonful to your lips. If you were your usual healthy self, you would've told him that you're fully capable of feeding yourself, but you're sick and vulnerable and he has that soft look in his eyes, so you let him feed you the soup. It's warm and a little spicy, and it instantly makes you feel better as it slides down your throat. It's just that good. That, and the fact that he bought it for you and drove all this way to feed it to you.

He makes sure you take any necessary medication and even helps you flip over to lay on your stomach so that he can rub some VapoRub on your back, his hands giving you the comfort you didn't know you so desperately needed.

You aren't used to being taken care of by such a gentle man. He blows on your soup for you so that you don't burn your tongue. He wets a cloth with cold water and lays it on your forehead to bring down your temperature. He touches you like you're some delicate porcelain that could break at any moment. When he lays down with you and runs his fingers through your hair, you don't fight it. When he presses a soft kiss to your cheek, you don't protest like you normally would because rule #3 is 'no kissing outside of sex' but you don't even care right now. You let him take care of you when you normally wouldn't. You allow yourself to be taken care of because it feels too good to overthink.

Jungkook feels a bit selfish for relishing in your current state because it allows him to care for you in your time of need. He would do it for any of his friends because that's the type of person he is, but this is different. This is you, and he would drive for hours and hours to get to you if you ever needed him. He would put everything on hold to be there for you. Hell, he would run into a burning building if you were in there. Because it's you.

He props his head up on his elbow and looks down at you, taking in your fevery flushed cheeks, your heavy-lidded eyes, your stuffy nose, and he thinks that no other woman will ever be as beautiful to him as you. He's not Taehyung. He doesn't teach literature and he doesn't have the best way with words, but he could spend hours writing poetry about the sound of your laugh or how animated you get when you're really passionate about something. He could sit and watch paint dry all day if you sat by his side and did it with him.

Jungkook takes the tv remote from the nightstand to turn on Sex and The City, clicking on a random episode from season 6 and getting comfortable next to you.

"What happened to Sex and The City being boring, hm?" you chuckle, giving him a teasingly pointed look.

"What, you want me to turn it off?"

"No, I just thought you didn't like it."

"But you like it."

You turn your attention back to the tv as a smile threatens to break out on your face, your head turned so that he doesn't see how much that simple response affected you.

He barely remembers the characters' names or much of the plot, but you enjoy the show, so he watches it with you, making comments here and there and even asking questions just so he can listen to your voice as you explain why Carrie Bradshaw does what she does. He mentally pats himself on the back for getting through a good handful of episodes before inevitably getting bored.

When you get up to go to the bathroom, he just can't help himself and turns on one of the Avengers movies, offering you a sheepish grin when you come back and see what's on your tv.

You roll your eyes and get back in bed, watching Iron Man perform a monologue for the millionth time. "Captain America's better."

He gives you a look like you just killed his dog or something, and you already know what's coming.

"Are you insane?! Iron Man is so obviously the best Avenger, ___."

"He doesn't look like Captain America, though."

"He doesn't have to," he scoffs, looking back at the tv. "He's got that whole rich CEO thing going for him. Plus, he's like, a genius."

"Nerds defending nerds, I guess," you tease with a faint smile.

He grins, a hint of smugness in his expression. "Are you saying I'm like Iron Man? Because if you are, that's a huge compliment."

"Iron Man's a bit more of a bad boy," you chuckle, narrowing your eyes at him as you try to think of who he resembles in the Avengers. "You're more...boy next door, kinda like Spider Man."

"Wha- excuse me, I can be a bad boy too if I want," he quips, trying to sound offended, but when you mention Spider Man, it kinda makes up for it. "I guess I'll take Spider Man. I do have a nice ass."

You laugh, giving him a puzzled look. "Who said anything about Spider Man's ass?"

"He's, like, known for having a great ass. Have you seen him in his suit?"

"So, that's it? That's why you'd make a good superhero? Because you have a nice ass?"

"Well...not just my ass. I'd make a great superhero because...y'know...great power, great responsibility and all that other stuff."

You scoff, shrugging like you can't argue with that.

He's quiet for a while, a full-blown fight scene playing out on the tv, his mind starting to wander a bit.

"You'd be Black Widow. You've got that badass, independent woman vibe," he murmurs, looking over at you with a soft smile.

"You think so?"

"Oh yeah. You're smart, confident, you don't take crap from anyone. Plus, you'd look really hot in the tight outfit." He just can't help himself.

You roll your eyes, softly swatting his bicep. "Of course that's what you think of."

He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, feigning innocence. "Hey, what can I say? I'm a man, I like what I like."

And I like you. He can't say it out loud, but acknowledging it is enough for now, and when the cough syrup starts taking effect and your eyes slowly start to droop, he feels content with just having your head on his chest.

His phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pocket to see a text from Taehyung, and your eyes are barely open when they land on the screen. You didn't even mean to look, it was kinda just an instinctive thing, but you're not interested in his private texts from his friends. What catches your eye is the photo on his lock screen. It's a photo of the two of you from a year ago, both of you making silly faces at the camera. It's a cute photo. If anyone else were to see it, they'd think you're a couple.

“I didn't know that’s your lock screen,” you mumble, your voice a lot sleepier than it was an hour ago.

“Are you snooping?” he teases with a little scoff.

“I didn't mean to look, your phone is kinda in my face from this angle,” you murmur through a soft chuckle, looking down at the photo.

“I like this photo of us.” He smiles when you tap the screen after it goes black, wanting to get another look.

“Coulda used one that I actually look pretty in,” you murmur jokingly, and as the cough syrup drains the last of your consciousness, the last thing you hear is a soft, “But you’re always pretty, ___.”

The next morning, you wake up feeling a little bit disorientated after taking all that cold medicine, blinking a few times to clear your vision. You slowly sit up in bed and check your phone, seeing that it's 10am. You almost think you overslept for work, but you realize it's Sunday. You think back to the night before, the way Jungkook came over and fed you soup, the way he gently put VapoRub on your back and made sure you were well taken care of. You turn your head to find Miso in the spot that Jungkook was in last night, and you would feel disappointed that he’s not there anymore if Miso weren't so damn cute. It's not like you expected him to still be here this morning. After all, staying the night is another boundary you don't cross, and he respects that, which explains why he left a little while after you fell asleep.

You feel that fuzzy feeling in your chest again when you take a better look at what's on your nightstand. Your water bottle stands tall, which Jungkook filled before he left last night, along with a little note from one of the notebooks on your desk.

The note says, 'Hope you're feeling a bit better. Get lots of rest and drink your fluids. Don't worry about falling asleep, Miso made sure I saw myself out. Hope to see you at work tomorrow xx'

You read the note again, and then again. It's simple but thoughtful. He didn't have to write a note. He didn't have to come over last night to tend to your illness, but he did, and you aren't surprised because he's him. That's just what he does.

You think about last night until you have to consciously stop yourself from smiling so much because your cheeks feel a bit stiff. You grab your phone from the nightstand and scroll to his contact, your fingers quickly sliding across the keyboard.

You [10:23am]: thank you for coming over last night, kook You [10:23am]: i owe you fr

prof jeon [10:25am]: you really don't 🙄 prof jeon [10:25am]: i just wanted to be there for you prof jeon [10:26am]: it's what spider man would've done 👀

You [10:26am]: 👁️👄👁️ You [10:26am]: nerd

PART 1 || PART 3

[bonus-links]

IMMA BE THE FIRST TO ASK (I HOPE) CUZ IM LITERALLY CHOMPING AT THE BIT DIRECTORS COMMENTARY PLEASE

GANON??? THE EYES???? BANGER UPDATE 👹

the people have spoken and they want director's commentary (this isn't even all of them lol) OKAY HERE WE GO

the original draft of this scene was much shorter, and Loft actually didn't say anything at all in it. As I kept making the chapter it started to feel weird that he would just. Let Ganondorf say his piece without contributing anything. i like this version of the scene much better

listen. I love WW Ganondorf. He's my favorite Ganondorf. I was going to find a way to fit him into this chapter no matter what

in particular, I love that you get a sense from WW Ganondorf that he is, on some level, sympathetic to Link. Or if not sympathetic, understanding of his place in all this. He tells Link that his gods have abandoned him, that he has not particular quarrel with him, etc. But ultimately it doesn't matter. If this is who the gods have sent to stand in his way, so be it. Essentially, it's not my fault the gods are so callous as to send a child after me.

we're going w the canon that WW Ganondorf is the same as OOT, or at least remembers being him. Don't ask me how. Nintendo doesn't know either

big ol eyeball. which could mean nothing

How does Ganondorf recognize Loft? by that stupid hat. jokes aside he doesn't know Which Link Specifically Loft is, but he's smart enough to figure out that he's a hero of some sort.

Likewise, Loft is smart enough to figure it out as well. He's spent a lot of his chapter thinking about Ganondorf, and if you'll recall from Ch1, he knows from Zelda that Ganon once had a mortal form. I think, from Loft's perspective, he has a hunch that this Ganon figure is the mortal reincarnation of Demise, the way Zelda is the mortal reincarnation of Hylia. I wanna emphasize that's what HE thinks might be going on based on his experiences. He's not the knower of all things. He has a conspiracy board in his mind

the face of a guy who's like. I am not going to be lectured to about morality from the King of Evil. I was very excited to let Loft be snarky at long last. But he also, notably, doesn't push back against what Ganondorf is saying that hard. He doesn't even say that he's wrong, just implies that he's probably a hypocrite. In fact, a lot of this update is about what Loft DOESN'T say or acknowledge

Ganondorf's opening line is about how much he hates that statue of the hero of time, because it's "such grandeur for a mere child". I think he means that at face value, but he's also making another point— the hero of time was a child, but they're not going to depict him that way in his monument. It's honestly sort of ambiguous with the actual model because of ww's style, but it looks like adult proportions to me. The story Wake grew up with calls him a child, but his monument in the castle is of an adult. That was the idea behind this set of panels, the parts of the Hero of Time's story that aren't going to be put on the pedestal

speaking of that I realized making this update that I literally. forgot the pedestal. I just didn't draw it all this time. in my defense the castle in no clip looks like this. no statue or pedestal

except I recently found out by accident that he's literally. under the floor. what the fuck

ANYWAY. I really liked the symmetry of Ganondorf turing to stone at the end of the dream. He won't get any perfect monuments made to him. Also, looks like there's a suspicious lack of water in the underwater castle. which could mean nothing

I'm not gonna comment too much on other details, because i've got to keep some of my secrets. I do think that this update gives a lot away HAHA though that was kind of on purpose. We're entering year 3 of this comic and we're finally starting to get places lolol

WAIT I ALMOST FORGOT loft looks the same way he did when he last touched the triforce

and we've seen a border similar to this before haven't we

that's all i got for now, thanks everybody! im having a blast reading ur comments <3

[puckleberryfinnie]

ok so ik my req might seem a bit weird butttttt.. i have been dyingggg for ray. like his body tea, i loveeee his lil accent and smile so i just wanna see like host!reader get nervous when he gets injured, him giving reader his jersey, and a lil post-game smooch 🫶🏾🫶🏾.

girll you don't understand how glad I am that someone else feels this way about him like I feel so wrong about it but?? he's such a cutie?? thank you soso much for sending this in, love this idea <33 so sorry this took so long, life took hold of meee

Beautiful Little Fools

You being a friend of Kai's, and being in several of his streams as an internet personality yourself. Of course, you meet several of his friends, including Ray. He's just using his cheesy "rizz" with Kai's encouragement, and you're laughing on to all his funny tactics.

When the Beta Squad and AMP decide to have the match, there's almost immediately an invitation for you to join in as a host, that you accept gratefully!

The days leading up to the event, you spend a lot of time hanging out with the American group, as well as meeting new people that you become fast friends with.

Ray, however, stays close to either you or Kai at most points, finding himself most comfortable with people he knows pretty well already. Everyone (thought mostly Kai) loves the relationship you two have, and joke around about it a LOT.

You, of course, enjoy his company and help him with training that they have set up for those participating the day before the real match. It's mostly just simple things, though, like returning the balls to him or mock-guarding him.

At some point during the practice, he gets slightly injured, tripping over a ball or something like that. It really isn't that bad, but you find it concerning, especially considering the big match is the following day.

He, however, reassures you, comforting you by patting your head and giving you a brief hug. He doesn't like you being worried about it, so he tried to make sure you understand he's okay.

The next day is obviously intense, and you spend a lot of time making sure Ray is safe, keeping an eye on him throughout the game. You interview him at halftime momentarily, joking around together before he has to go. You also remind him to be safe out there, yelling after him.

He clearly doesn't follow this advice too closely, however, and ends up getting tackled by some larger player (probs Niko lets be so fr) You, of course, feel incredibly scared, watching him from the sidelines all while trying to keep composure as a host.

As he gets guided to the bench to rest, you move yourself over there to talk to him, frantically making sure he's ok. You end up in his arms, him holding you tightly.

After that interaction and him assuring you plenty that he's alright, you go back to doing your job as a host, interviewing other players and such.

Post game, he comes back to see you, striding over to you with intent. It startles you for a moment, when you suddenly see him standing so close to you. He give a short hug followed by a even shorter, nervous kiss.

After a moment of staring at each other, he takes off his jersey, handing it to you with a smile. He doesn't even say anything, just holds it out for you to take.

You end up wearing that jersey on your flight back and on many occasions afterwards. <3

guys I legit don't know why but I really can't tell if I like this style of writing or not. let me know what you think, I'm soso sorry this isn't very good, I truly hope you still enjoy <33

title is a song from great gatsby the musical ofc

anyways, thank you sososo much for being my first ever request, I love you to the moon and back tbh!!

I definitely want to do more of these before school starts to make everything crazy again, so if anyone wants to send something in feel completely free and wanted within my inbox! I'll take requests about pretty much anyone (check out the list of things I love for some reference!!) or I'm for sure here to chat <33

MUAH LOVE YA!!

[mainstreamangel]

WONDERLAND

P. Bueckers x Teammate!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Paige had been friends since childhood. Both had grew into phenomenal basketball players and started to get recognised. But a taste of fame and you two had started to lose each other in all the madness of Wonderland.

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Warning(s): Paige's story of getting into basketball is altered to fit the story, Reader is shorter than Paige but not specified, inaccurate basketball terms, a few parts are rushed so we can just get on to the main dish :), few uses of [name], timeline doesn't match for the sake of the fic

WC: 4.1k

[DISCONTINUED]

"Paige. Look, I wanna join them." You pointed at a group of kids a bit older than you playing a game.

You held your best friend, Paige's hand tightly. Hiding slightly behind her since you were a bit shy as a child.

"Huh? You wanna play basketball?" Paige looked at you.

"Yeah, maybe it'll be nice to play with kids near our age than your dad?"

"Sure we can ask." Paige smiled.

You pulled her to the court, the kids' game just finishing up. Perfect timing.

"Can we join?" Paige asks a boy.

He is about the same height as her but older. A thin sheet of sweat covers his skin.

"Uh, sure. You two know how to play?" He asks, the ball wedged between his side and his inner arm.

"Yeah, the basics." Paige says looking at you for comformation.

"Let's play then." He says getting his friends ready.

You two were the only girls on the court. A bit nervous you look at Paige and she takes off her jacket, leaving her in a t-shirt.

"We got this don't worry." Paige says, joining the boy's team.

You take a deep breath and step onto the court.

"This is gonna be so easy. Two girls? It's like playing against a bunch of Barbie dolls." One of them laughs.

"Don't worry we'll go easy on you!" Another shouts across the court.

You wanted to shut them up but you were worried that they might be right.

Your skills shut them up without words.

You honestly weren't expecting much out of you but you did pretty good. Plus you were having fun. But Paige? She was killing it. She saw multiple openings and took them. All her shots were accurate and her form was near perfect. Her height was a bonus. She was about as tall as the boys and she had them breaking ankles.

You shifted your foot and pivoted, passing the ball to Paige in one swift motion. She took the ball and ran a bit past one guy who attempted to guard her and she faked out the next, dropping a clean 3 into the net.

The guys groan and you ran up to Paige, giving her a tight hug.

"You're so good." You smiled.

"No, we are." She hugged you back and a man walked up to the both of you.

"Hey ladies, nice game." The man said.

"Thanks." Paige says with her arm around your shoulders.

"You know I came to visit an old buddy of mine. I don't work here at this school. I work at the high school. Mr. Cosgriff. This your first time playing?" He stuck his hand out to shake Paige's.

Paige shook her head. "My dad used to play and he taught my friend and I how to play."

"You know, you have some real talent kid. If you ever decide to pursue basketball, you should come see me. I would love to have you as one of my star players." He smiled.

Paige's eyes lit up. She had never been recognised for anything big before and this interested her right away.

"You'd have to try out for the team, but I have a feeling I'll be seeing you on the court. Oh, and hope to see your little friend there too." He smiles before walking away.

You turn in Paige's grasp.

"This is so exciting. I'm definitely going to try out. Are you?" She asks, with a beaming smile.

You look down and play with the hem of your shirt. "You're amazing and I have a feeling you'll go far with basketball if you continue to enjoy it. But me? I'm not sure I'm good enough." You mumbled.

"What're you talking about? We were crushing them. Sure it wasn't pro or anything but we made a pretty good team. Did you have fun though?" She asked taking your hand in hers.

"Yeah, I did but what if I can't keep up with you?" You asked, finally looking at her.

"It doesn't mean you have to make a career out of it. It can just be for fun you know? Plus I'll be there right by your side." She promised.

You nodded. "Okay, as long as you're there."

As you finished out your early years of school you continued to play casual basketball with Paige. On breaks and during recess, with your families too. You two got better, perfecting your form and adjusting your speeds. You improved greatly and on the court it seemed like you two could read each others' mind.

You had even played basketball during middle school and joined varsity with Paige.

By the time you reached high school you decided to find that man you had talked to all those years ago. After adjusting to the new environment, of course. You were wearing one of Paige's t-shirts that you stole and cut up to make it, in your words, cuter. Paired with pants of course. Paige always complained but she never really meant it since she stole things from your closet too.

To you guys, her closet was your closet and vice versa.

You found Mr. Cosgriff's room after school one day and walked in.

"Hey you two! If it isn't Paige Bueckers and [Name]. Haven't seen you two since that day on the court. How have you two been?" He asks looking up from the paper he was holding.

You two quickly caught up and Cosgriff couldn't wait to ask the big question.

"So have you two decided to try out for the basketball team next week?" He asks, hopefully.

He knew deep down that Paige was going to be a star. She had that powerful energy and those instincts. He just had to have her on the team. You were a bonus too.

Paige nodded and looked over for your response. You took a deep breath and with a faint smile you nodded.

"Can't wait to see you there."

You and Paige were nervous. You weren't sure what to expect from other players coming to try out but you two knew you had to do your best.

You were in the locker room bathroom doing your hair. Paige came up behind you and smiled, giving you a knowing look. Ever since that day on the court Paige always asked you to do her hair before you went out onto the court.

You smiled and took the two front chunks of her hair and quickly braided them. You had gotten faster with the braiding through constant practice so it didn't take as long as it did before. You grab the rest of her loose hair and slick it back, tying the braids and the free hair into a ponytail.

"There you are P." You stand next to her.

"Thanks, you always know how to make me look my best."

"It's like your signature look." You smile, leaning her head on her arm.

"Alright ladies! Good job today. We will have mandatory tryouts again in 2 days and then 2 more additional callbacks to those who need more evaluation. Rest well ladies and we'll see you back here in 2 days." Coach said, with his clipboard attached to his hip.

You were breathing heavily and tryouts had done a number on you but you knew you tried your best and there was always a second attempt in a couple days. Though, you believed there wasn't going to be anything as changing as a first impression.

You carpooled with Paige back to her house. Your parents and hers didn't mind since it was just across the street and you two were always at hers or your place.

You sigh and put your bag down before stripping of your sweaty clothes.

"That was a tough tryout." Paige says, taking her hairtie out.

"Yeah definitely, but I think it was worth it. Hope I made a good impression though." You threw on one of Paige's shirts and a pair of shorts you left at hers one time.

"I'm sure you impressed coach more than you think. We were killer out there." She smiles and changes as well before taking out her hair and brushing it free.

"You're not going to shower?" You ask.

"Too lazy."

"Ew that's so disgusting. If you're not going to shower I am." You say, starting to take your clothes off again and head to the bathroom.

"I'll just shower after you."

"Alright, and don't worry I won't take all the hot water." You smirk.

After you two showered, you crashed on her bed and you laid your head on her lap as she sat against her headboard. She combed her fingers through your hair and you sighed.

"I wanna eat the moon."

"What?" She stopped.

"It looks so chewable."

She laughed and turned on her tv. You two had started a show and now was the perfect time to watch an episode and relax.

Or so she thought. You had fallen asleep 10 minutes into the episode and she collapsed right after you. The sound of the tv lulling you to sleep.

The next morning the door creaked open and Paige's dad peeked his head through the opening.

"Paige, you're late- [Name]?" He walked over and shook the both of you awake.

"Paige you two have to get up. You're late for school."

Paige grumbled and cracked an eye open before shooting up, almost knocking into your awaking form.

"Hey!" You smacked her.

"Alright ladies enough, lets go." Paige's dad laughed.

A day had passed and you were back for the second day of tryouts. It was the same concept, just a semi-finalised analysation of your skills for the coach. You make a risky pass, and without calling out her name you give her half a second to catch your gaze before you bounce the ball to her.

In any other circumstance people would be like "what the fuck was that pass?". But you and Paige were so connected she followed up on your pass and dished a 3.

You walk up to her and give her a quick hug.

"I didn't expect that to work." You breathed.

"Me neither. But glad it did." Paige smiled.

By the end of tryouts, everyone was worked and sweating.

"Ladies, good job today. This is the end of mandatory tryouts. Call backs will be held next Tuesday and Thursday. Thank you."

Everyone started to head for the gym door.

"Paige, [Name], I'd like to talk really quick."

Anxiety gnawed at your veins and you follow Paige as you approach coach.

"What's up?" Paige asks, her hands on her hips.

"You two were definitely something. Out on that court I saw determination, risk, reward, and unspoken communication. There is a clear bond that you two share, special and nothing like it elsewhere. You two are exactly what I want on my team. So I'm offering you, Paige, to be the team's point guard and you, [Name], to be the team's shooting guard. No waiting for positions to be posted, no call backs. This is your ticket in, right away. What do you say?" He explains.

The room falls silent and you turn to Paige. One second she's taking in the information and then the next she turns and tackles you into a hug.

"We did it, I told you." She mumbles in your ear.

You're beaming and hug her back. You two are a sweaty mess but it doesn't matter. You quickly accept the coach's offer and go home on cloud 9.

That night you laid in Paige's bed again, the same show playing softly in the background. You glanced up at her and watched as she scrolled on her phone.

"P?"

"Yeah?" She put her phone down.

You sat up and positioned yourself in her lap.

"We need to talk."

Paige's heart dropped.

"What's wrong, you alright?"

"I was thinking about what coach said today. About us having a bond like no other." You looked down.

"And?"

"And it got me thinking we've been friends since the beginning and I want to make sure this new chapter won't change us. You know, if you go pro and whatever." You mumbled.

"Okay first of all, I'm not going pro. I still have a lot to learn about basketball and right now I'm just focused on having fun. With you and whoever else will be on our team. It's going to be alright. Together, remember?"

You nodded and leaned forward to hug her body. She pulled you closer and rocked you slightly.

"It's going to be alright."

Time had passed and you two had grown in both how you played and even though you thought it wasn't possible, your unspoken communication had grown stronger too.

Coach called your names and you jogged over from warmups.

"What's up coach?" Paige asked. Her hair in her signature hairstyle that she had you do before every game and practice.

Coach explained that you had been watched closely and have been chosen to participate in the underage Olympics to represent USA through basketball. It was a game changer.

You both accepted and went through multiple training and practice games, meeting a bunch of different people also coming to represent USA. Like one girl, Azzi Fudd. You had met her at camp and instantly you three clicked.

A bond was created over time and you three took the world by surprise.

One night you were alone with Paige and you sat on the floor in the room you were in for the night. She sat across from you.

A deck of cards that you always carried with you sat in between the two of you.

"Hit." Paige mumbled.

You gave her a card and she furrowed her brows in frustration.

"Bust." She flipped her hidden card.

You laughed and moved the cards out of the way before moving closer to her.

"Can't believe we're here. It's like we're actually getting recognised now." You mumbled.

She nodded. "It's all so new. Overwhelming but great. The interviews and the pictures. It's definitely ego stroking." She smiled.

"I like you." You blurted out.

You weren't sure why you said it. It was true, but you just didn't know why you said it.

"What?" She asked looking at you.

"Everything's changing and I want us to change too. For the better of course, but I just. I like you." You take her hand and rub soft circles on her skin.

She was silent for a minute and then her lips cracked into a small lopsided smile.

"I like you too."

You agreed to take it slow but you hadn't felt happier.

By the time you returned back to school, life returned to normal. But better. You and Paige had unlocked a new closeness, a new intimacy in your relationship and it only made it better between you two.

One day, you were just practicing with the team. You dribbled the ball a couple times before throwing the ball into a perfect curve, dropping it clean in the net.

You smiled and Paige retrieved the ball.

"Bet I can get it further than you." She smirked.

"Oh yeah? I'd like to see you try."

Paige internally marked where you had shot from and took a couple steps back and landed it in the net.

"Alright show-off. My turn." You laughed.

You stood where Paige had and took even more steps back. This shot was far but you were determined. The rest of the team was on the side watching the little show down. You adjusted your form and took a deep breath. The ball flew through the air and again, a perfect basket.

"Alright, alright. We get it you're good. But I'm better if I make this shot." Paige smirks.

"Whatever you say P."

Paige takes the ball and plants her feet at the very end of the court. Her eyes were on the hoop and whispers were heard on the side.

"There's no way she makes this."

"It's too far."

"This basket's gonna have mad aura."

Paige dribbled the ball and calculated. She moved her body and took the shot.

Swish.

She made it.

Everyone was stunned. You walked up to her and stuck out your hand.

"I respect it Bueckers." You smiled.

She shook your hand and laughed.

"Honestly I know I'm good but I didn't know if I was going to be that good." She pulled you into a hug and you smiled.

Unbeknownst to you a certain collegiate coach had watched the little game and took note of you both. He'd be coming for you both.

The next couple practices you don't notice the same man coming to watch you and Paige but when game day comes around. You win against your opponent and are pulled aside by your coach. Again.

"What is it this time coach?" You ask.

"This is Coach Geno Auriemma. The women's basketball coach at the University of Connecticut." He explains.

"You're a long way from home sir." You smile.

"Indeed. But I am here to hopefully persuade you both into attending UConn and joining our basketball team." He starts.

He talked a bit about how it would look like and what is there to offer and a bunch of other crap you really didn't want to listen to. Eventually you were finally released and you headed out with your families to go celebrate another win.

"Coach Geno Auriemma from the University of Connecticut came and tried to recruit us." You say to your parents, taking a sip of your water.

"And?"

"I dunno."

"I'm going." Paige adds.

You look at her shocked. It was a quick decision and you weren't sure if you were ready to be away from Paige, or away from home.

"That's far, P." You look down.

"I know, but I just, it feels right. Like a gut instinct."

You nodded. You had a few options picked out but UConn hadn't crossed your mind. You were offered a chance to go with Paige or make your own way.

You'd have to think about it.

Someone had pulled you two aside for a quick interview for the socials page.

"Where do you see yourself in 5 years, Paige?" The girl asked.

Paige sat awkwardly against the bleachers in a secluded area, you sat next to her, legs spread a bit.

"Uh you know just winning a national championship my senior year, going out strong and then preparing for the WNBA draft hoping to go as the first pick is what I'd hope for in 5 years." She smiles, looking at you.

"And you, [Name]?"

"Uh hoping to play basketball through college and maybe enter the draft, maybe as like top 5 or something I dunno. If anything changes maybe become an engineer. That's like my back up plan." You answered.

"Will you be attending the same school as Paige? You two have been together since the beginning."

Paige was nervous for your answer. You had talked about it a couple times and you knew her heart was set on UConn while yours was still trying to find.

You took a deep breath.

"Yes, I will be attending UConn."

That night you laid in your bed. Paige was next to you, scrolling on her phone.

"I'm so glad you're coming to UConn with me." She smiles and turns to you.

"I honestly tried to see if anything else was clicking but it's like you said. Uh what was it that you said?"

"It just clicked?"

"Yeah."

She leaned over and gave you a quick kiss to your temple.

"I love you. I know it's early to say but I love you."

"I've always loved you Paige, and I will continue to do so." You put your head on her chest and play with the ends of her hair.

Time flies by and before you know it you're packing up your stuff, getting ready for the big move. Paige was doing the same at her place and you both knew this would unlock a new chapter for both of your lives. Separate and together.

You texted her about bringing your stuff from her place over and she reacts to your message with a thumbs up.

You pick up a picture of you and Paige when you were younger. A cute photo with close proximity.

That one was definitely going with you.

"Knock knock." Paige opens the door, a box with all your belongings.

"This is so overwhelming." You sigh, placing the frame into a different box.

"Yeah, but it's all going to be worth it. Trust me baby, a new environment and even more professional basketball games." Paige put the box down.

She walked over to you and put her hands on your waist.

"I hope so. I think Auriemma expects much from us since we're rookies but I think I'm also ready to fill those shoes." You put your arms around her neck.

She hummed and swayed you both slightly.

"Are you all packed?" You asked.

"Yep."

You and Paige were going to make the long drive together. You both opted for a car ride over a plane trip. To spend more time with each other.

Your parents were hesitant but ultimately agreed. You were going to take Paige's car.

"Help me close up these boxes and then we can be on our way baby." You release yourself from her grasp and hand her packing tape.

You finish putting the last of the boxes into the trunk and close it. Time was up and you turned to your parents. Giving them hugs and wiping away tears.

"We're so proud of you."

"Thanks, I'm excited for this new chapter."

You exchanged hugs with Paige's parents and Paige exchanged hugs with yours.

You hopped into the passenger's seat and Paige climbed into the drivers.

"Ready?" She asked, turning the car on.

"As ready as I'll ever be." You sighed, pulling the blanket over your lap.

She took your hand and gave it a soft stroke.

You leaned into her touch and gave her a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth.

The car ride was filled with terrible karaoke and sugar filled snacks. You and Paige were having the time of your lives. Free and young, you felt at home.

In your heart, Paige was your home.

"What do you think UConn will be like?" You ask, taking a bite out of your candy.

"I dunno, fun I hope. Can't wait to make friends and get on the court."

"Of course all you can think about is basketball."

"What? I love basketball."

"Oh so more than me?" You joke.

"Come on that's not fair. You know I love you more."

"I know."

Eventually you arrive at your destination and get through all the important things and get into your shared dorm with 2 other girls.

"Babe can you come here?" You called from the room you picked.

"Yeah what's up, ma?"

"Do you know where I put my comforter?" You asked.

"I think I have the box. Let me go get it."

Paige walked out of your room and into the main area, stopping when she sees a familiar face.

"Azzi Fudd?" She smiles.

"Paige! Hey! Didn't know you were coming to UConn." She put her stuff down and gave Paige a quick hug.

"Yeah, me neither. I mean I knew I was coming but, you know."

"Is [Name] here too?" Azzi asks, hopeful.

"Yeah she's in that room." She points to your room before heading to hers to get your box.

Azzi walks up to your open door and knocks. You whip around and shock is displayed on your face.

"Azzi? It's so good to see you." You hug her.

"You too. Glad we're roommates."

You got settled and unpacked. It was exhausting but it was done. You collapsed on the couch in the main area and Paige sat next to you. Your other roommate, Nika Muhl had showed up during your unpacking. She had been here for a year already and had an empty dorm until you showed up.

You got to know the girl and all had the same connection, basketball. You all were going to be on the same team and it was best you got to know each other.

"Dinner anyone? I can make something, or we can order whatever we feel." You offered.

"What would you be making?" Paige asked.

"Probably just like spaghetti and meatballs. Unless you guys have like special diets."

"That sounds good. Need help?" Azzi asks.

"We need to get the stuff." You stand up and Azzi follows.

"P, you coming? Nika?" Azzi asks.

"Nah, we'll stay and get to know each other."

"Paige, keys." You hold out your hands and Paige tosses you her keys.

"You don't have your own car?" Nika asks.

"I do, it's just back at home. We came together."

She nods.

You hold the door open for Azzi and close it softly behind you.

[mrs-delaney]

Hide | Chapter Fourteen | Angels Like You

✨ Catch up on Hide before reading this chapter ✨

✧ the masterlist, babes ✧ 💌 so you can read all my stuff 🧃📚

💌 my inbox is open — come yell at me about the fic or just say hi

pairing: joe burrow x riley carter (oc) word count: 10.5k ish requested: no ⚠️ just a little warning: joe gets hurt in this one—not graphic, but it’s serious—and the emotional vibes are very much “something’s not right.” if that’s a tough headspace, skip or pause as needed.

📝 this story is only posted on wattpad and tumblr under miss_delaney. if you see it anywhere else, it’s been stolen. 🚫 do not repost, translate, or share my work without permission. 🌻 requests: closed! 💌 want to be added to the taglist? drop a comment or message me.

Author’s Note: posting two days in a row?? wild. who is she??

work’s been a little slow this week so i’ve been writing in between meetings (sorry to my boss..even though he sees me fuckin' around). this one’s a bit shorter, but it felt right to give it its own space.

this chapter's got that underlying hurt—you know, where nothing's actually exploded but everything still feels wrong somehow. not broken exactly, just... uneasy. like everyone's walking on eggshells but trying to pretend they're not. that's kind of where we are right now.

this part of the story is loosely based on real events. creative liberties were taken. timelines were bent.

thanks for being here. i really mean it. 💛

Taglist: @wickedfun9 @starsyoongi @amiets2 @palmettogal508 @throwaway12356123 @lilfreakjez @destinyg237

August 26

Joe walks off the sideline still thinking about Riley's voice when she hung up on him days ago. The preseason game against the Commanders just ended—they won, 24-17—but he spent most of it watching from the bench, his mind three thousand miles away. He played one series in the first quarter, handed off twice, and that was it.

"Good game, Joe," someone calls out, maybe a coach, maybe a teammate. He nods without really seeing them, already pulling his phone from his locker.

Still no response to any of his texts. It feels like an eternity of silence.

Joe showers quickly, throws on sweats and a hoodie, and ignores the team bus idling outside the stadium. Instead, he calls Sarah.

"I need a jet," he says without preamble.

"Tonight? Joe, you just played—"

"Tonight. To LAX. How fast can you make it happen?"

There's a pause. Sarah's been his assistant for two years; she knows when not to ask questions. "Give me an hour. Where are you going from LAX?"

"I'll figure it out when I get there."

The drive to the private airfield outside Washington gives Joe time to think, which is both a blessing and a curse. He keeps replaying Riley's voice from that phone call—When push comes to shove, I'm the problem you need to manage—and realizing she wasn't wrong.

He tries calling her again as he waits for the jet to be prepped. Straight to voicemail, same as it's been for days.

"Riley, it's me again," he says after the beep. "I know you probably don't want to hear from me right now, but... just call me back. Please."

He hangs up and immediately wants to try again, but forces himself to put the phone away. If she wanted to talk to him, she would have by now.

The pilot doesn't ask questions about the last-minute flight or why Joe looks like shit.

He pulls out his phone and stares at his last text to Riley: Still hoping you'll be there Saturday.

She never responded. Which means she's probably not coming to Cincinnati. Which means this thing between them might actually be over, might have ended with that terrible phone call where he said all the wrong things and she hung up on him.

Joe opens a new message and starts typing: I'm coming to see you.

He deletes it. Tries again: We need to talk.

Deletes that too.

The truth is, he's terrified she'll tell him not to come. That she'll say she doesn't want to see him, that they're done, that he's too late. So instead of giving her the chance to reject him, he's just going to show up and hope she'll at least let him explain.

It's not his usual approach—Joe plans things, thinks them through, weighs the options. But planning hasn't been working when it comes to Riley. Every time he tries to be careful, to manage the situation, he makes it worse.

Maybe it's time to stop being careful.

The flight attendant offers him dinner, but Joe's stomach is too twisted to eat. He accepts water instead and uses the wifi to book a rental car, then immediately second-guesses the choice. Should he take an Uber? Less traceable, but also less reliable if Riley wants him to leave quickly.

God, he doesn't even know if she's home. For all he knows, she could be anywhere—New Orleans, Nashville, Colorado, literally anywhere. He hasn't heard from her team either, despite texting Pete directly yesterday.

Joe stares out the window at the dark expanse of America passing below and tries to figure out what he's going to say when he sees her. I'm sorryseems inadequate. I was scared sounds like an excuse. I love you feels true but not enough - not when love hasn't stopped him from hurting her.

His phone buzzes with a text from his dad: How'd the game go?

Joe types back: Fine. Flying to LA.

The response comes quickly: Good. Bring her home.

It's such a simple statement. Bring her home. Like she belongs there, like she belongs with him. Even though they haven't met her yet.

The pilot's voice crackles over the intercom: "We'll be beginning our descent into Los Angeles in about twenty minutes."

Joe's hands start to sweat. Twenty minutes until he finds out if the person he loves still wants anything to do with him.

He tries her number one more time. It rings once, twice, three times, then goes to voicemail. 

"It's me," he says. "I... I'm sorry about everything. About the phone call, about not being there when you needed me, about being an idiot. I'm going to try to fix this, okay? If you'll let me."

He hangs up and immediately regrets it. He should have said more, should have explained, should have told her he was coming. But it's too late now.

The rental car is waiting. Joe plugs Riley's address into the GPS and drives.

The drive from LAX to Laurel Canyon takes forty minutes. Joe's locked in now, the way he gets before big games. One objective: get to Riley. Everything else is noise.

But what if she's not alone?

It's been days since they talked. Days for her to decide she's done with his shit, done with being treated like a secret, done with dating someone who chooses his image over her every time it matters. Someone like maybe Dom.

Joe pushes the thought away and focuses on driving, on the narrow roads and expensive houses hidden behind gates and perfectly manicured hedges. Riley's neighborhood is quiet, peaceful, the kind of place where showing up unannounced at midnight might get the cops called.

He turns onto her street. Her house sits at the end of a curved driveway, lights on in the living room. Her car's the only one there.

Joe parks on the street and sits in the rental car for a full minute, staring at her front door. This is it. This is where he finds out if he still has her or if he's lost the best thing that's ever happened to him.

He gets out of the car and walks to her door.

Once he reaches her front door he just stands there, hand raised to knock, suddenly terrified of what comes next.

* * *

Riley sits cross-legged on her living room floor, acoustic guitar balanced across her lap, surrounded by scattered pieces of paper covered in crossed-out lines and half-formed verses. It's past 1 AM, but sleep feels impossible when her chest is this tight with words that need to come out.

She strums the same chord progression she's been working on for the past hour, humming a melody that feels too raw to sing at full voice yet. The notebook beside her is open to a page that reads:

Baby, angels like you can't fly down hell with me I'm everything they said I would be

She stops playing and scratches out the second line, tries again:

I'm everything you didn't want me to be

That's not right either. Riley sets the guitar aside and pulls her knees to her chest, staring at the mess of papers around her. Days of not responding to Joe,  days of writing songs that all sound like goodbye letters she'll never send.

Her phone sits face-down on the coffee table, silent since she finally set up the new one yesterday and saw all his unanswered messages flood in at once. She'd read them, all of them, but couldn't bring herself to respond. What was there to say? That she missed him? That she was tired of feeling like a problem he needed to solve?

Riley reaches for the guitar again, finds the melody, tries a different approach:

They say that misery loves company It's not your fault I ruin everything

The knock at her front door makes her freeze mid-strum.

She glances at the clock on her phone. 1:23 AM. Who the hell shows up at her house at 1:23 in the morning?

The knock comes again, more insistent this time.

Riley sets the guitar aside and pads to the front door in her bare feet, wearing an oversized t-shirt that hangs to her mid-thigh and shorts that disappear under the hem. She expects to see Pete through the peephole, or maybe Andy having another late-night crisis about some girl.

Instead, she sees Joe Burrow standing on her doorstep in sweats and a hoodie, looking like he just traveled three thousand miles to be there.

Which, apparently, he did.

Riley stares through the peephole for a full ten seconds, convinced she's hallucinating. Joe doesn't make grand gestures. Joe doesn't show up unannounced. Joe definitely doesn't fly across the country in the middle of the night.

But there he is.

She unlocks the door and opens it slowly, not trusting her voice yet.

"Hi," he says simply.

Riley blinks at him, still processing. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to make sure you get on a plane to Cincinnati."

Riley stares at him. "You... what?"

"Your flight. Tomorrow. I need to know you're still coming."

She opens her mouth, closes it again. Of all the things she might have expected Joe to say, this wasn't one of them. "You flew here to ask me that?"

"I flew here because I fucked up…again."

Riley stares at him for another long moment. "You got that right," she says finally. 

She steps back from the door, and Joe takes it as an invitation to come inside. The living room is covered in evidence of sleepless nights: papers scattered across the coffee table and floor, her guitar propped against the couch, lyrics scrawled in her messy handwriting.

Riley closes the door behind him and crosses her arms, suddenly aware that she's barely dressed and he's standing in her living room in the middle of the night like this isn't completely insane.

"Shouldn't you be in Maryland?" she asks, trying to find her footing in this conversation.

"Game ended hours ago." Joe's looking at the papers around her guitar, probably reading the fragments of lyrics she's been working on. "You've been writing."

"I've been doing a lot of things." Riley moves to gather some of the papers, suddenly self-conscious about him seeing her raw thoughts scattered everywhere. "What do you want, Joe?"

"I want to know if you're coming to Cincinnati tomorrow."

Riley stops collecting papers and looks at him. "Why would I be coming to Cincinnati?"

"Your flight. You had a flight booked."

"Had being the key word." Riley sits down on the edge of her couch, putting some distance between them. "I canceled it."

Something shifts in Joe's expression. "When?"

"The other day. I'm exhausted with this, Joe."

"I know. That's why I'm here."

Riley looks at him for a long moment. "You think showing up fixes it?"

"I think not showing up definitely doesn't."

She's quiet, processing that. Joe stays where he is, not moving closer, not trying to crowd her space.

"My team lost their minds when they saw the headlines," he says finally. "Started talking about damage control and how this could affect my image. And I listened to them instead of calling you back first."

Riley doesn't respond right away.

"I panicked. When I saw those photos, when I heard what people were saying... I thought about protecting myself before I thought about protecting you."

Riley wraps her arms tighter around herself. "That's the problem, Joe. When things get hard, your first instinct is to pull away from me, not toward me."

"I know."

"Really? Do you Joe? Because this isn't the first time. Every time there's any kind of pressure or scrutiny, you treat me like I'm the complication."

Joe runs a hand through his hair. "You're not a complication."

"Then why do I always feel like one?"

Joe is quiet for a long moment. "Because I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to have you in my life and deal with everyone else's opinions about it. So when things get complicated, I default to what I know - protecting what I can control."

"At least you're honest about it. But Joe, I can't keep being the thing you sacrifice every time you get scared." Riley shifts on the couch, pulling her knees closer. "I know I'm not easy. I know my life is messy and unpredictable and nothing like what you're used to. But I can't keep wondering if you're going to choose me or choose everyone else's opinion of me."

"I'm trying to figure out how to do that.  Choose you."

Joe moves closer, crouching down in front of the couch so he can see her face. "Don't give up on this. On us."

Riley looks at him, eyes tired. "This hurts, Joe."

"I know. I don't want to hurt you. Stay with me while I figure it out?"

She studies his face like she's looking for something she's not sure is there. "You keep asking me to wait while you figure it out. But what if you don't? What if this is just who we are?"

"I don't want it to be."

"Wanting isn't the same as changing." She's quiet for a moment. "But yeah. Okay. I'll stay."

"Even though you shouldn't."

"Probably because I shouldn't."

Joe takes what feels like the first deep breath he's had in days.

He reaches for her hand, and she lets him take it. Her fingers are cold, and he realizes she's been sitting here for hours writing, probably not taking care of herself the way she does when she's processing something hard.

"Come here," he says quietly, and gently pulls her up from the couch.

Riley stands on unsteady legs, and Joe wraps his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. She melts into him immediately, her face pressed against his hoodie, and he can feel some of the tension leave her body.

They stand like that for a long moment, just holding each other. Joe rests his chin on top of her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo, feeling the relief wash over him that she's here, that she's his, that she said okay.

Riley's arms tighten around his waist, and Joe realizes she's crying - not sobs, just quiet tears that soak through his hoodie.

"I missed you," she whispers against his chest.

"I missed you too," he says, his voice rough. "So much."

* * *

They stay like that, wrapped around each other in her living room surrounded by scattered lyrics and the evidence of her sleepless nights. It's relief and comfort and the simple fact that they fit together, even when everything else feels broken.

Riley pulls back just enough to look at his face, her hands coming up to rest against his chest. "You hate grand gestures."

"I had to. I was going crazy."

She studies his expression, searching for something. When she finds it, Joe leans down and kisses her.

It's soft at first, tentative, like he's not sure if this is allowed. But Riley's hands fist in his hoodie, and she kisses him back with weeks of missing him, and Joe makes a small sound against her mouth that goes straight through her.

"Bird," he breathes against her lips.

"I know," she whispers. "I know."

She takes his hand and leads him down the hall to her bedroom, and this time it's different from every other time they've been together. Slower, more careful. Like they're both afraid the other might disappear.

Joe pulls off his hoodie while Riley sits on the edge of her bed, just watching him. When he reaches for the hem of her oversized t-shirt, she lets him pull it over her head, and then they're skin to skin for the first time in too long.

"I thought I fucked this up forever," Joe says quietly, his forehead resting against hers.

"You didn't," Riley says, even though they both know how close he came.

When he touches her, it's with reverence, like he's memorizing every inch. When she moves against him, it's with a kind of desperate tenderness, like she's trying to pour all her forgiveness into the space between their bodies.

It's not gentle, not really. They cling to each other, pace quick and rough, both of them chasing relief and something like grace. Neither of them talks. Just the sound of skin and breath, desperate and seeking, like they're trying to say I'm sorry, I love you, don't leave again—all without words.

"Joe," Riley breathes against his mouth, her hands fisted in his hair.

"Me too," he says back, his voice rough.

She pulls him closer, desperate. "Don't—" she starts, then stops, but Joe knows what she means.

"I won't," he promises against her throat. "I'm not stopping. I'm not going anywhere."

When she's close, she whispers his name like a prayer, over and over, and Joe has to bite down on her shoulder to keep from falling apart completely.

"Please," she whispers, and he knows what she needs.

"Come on, baby," he murmurs back.

When Riley comes, it’s quiet, her body shaking with it, face pressed to his shoulder. Joe follows right after, everything tightening at once, her name muffled against her skin.

After, they don’t move. He just holds her, breathing her in, as if he could anchor himself to this moment and never let go.

"Come back with me," Joe says eventually. 

"Joe." 

"Please, Riley." 

"You know I will." She sighs. "When do you want to leave?" 

"In the morning? When we wake up?" 

"Okay."

She settles back against his chest, and Joe feels something ease in his chest that's been tight for days. It's not fixed - he knows that. The conversation they had in the living room doesn't solve the fundamental problem between them. But she's here, and she's his, and tomorrow they'll figure out the rest.

* * *

Early September 

Riley stares out the airplane window at the darkness below, her reflection ghostlike in the glass. The red-eye from Cincinnati to London is half empty, which means she has an entire row to herself to spread out and pretend she's not exhausted down to her bones.

Thirty-six hours. She could have stayed in London, slept off the jet lag, maybe seen a show in the West End. But no—she flew to Cincinnati instead, burning through her only real break because she thought things might be different after LA. Thirty-six hours of watching Joe slip right back into the same patterns that broke them apart in the first place.

Her phone buzzes with a text from Pete: Safe flight. Get some sleep. Love you.

She types back: Can't sleep. Too wired.

What she doesn't text is that nothing has changed. That Joe flying to LA, showing up at her door, asking her to stay with him—none of it actually fixed the thing that's wrong between them.

Yesterday afternoon, Joe's living room:

"The Steelers run a lot of zone coverage on third down," Joe muttered to himself, remote in hand, rewinding the same play for the fourth time.

Riley looked up from her book—she'd given up trying to have a conversation twenty minutes earlier. "Joe."

"Mmm?" He didn't look away from the screen.

"Remember when you said you were trying to figure out how to choose me?"

That got his attention. He paused the film and turned to her. "I am trying."

"Yeah? Because this feels exactly like it did before."

Joe's jaw tightened slightly. "It's Week 1, Riley. This is important."

"And I'm not?"

"That's not what I said."

But Riley could see it in his face—the same look he got whenever football took priority. The same wall going up.

Riley shifts in her seat now, curling sideways against the window. The flight attendant offers her a blanket, which she accepts with a tired smile.

Her phone lights up with a message from Joe: Miss you already.

She stares at the text for a long moment before responding: Miss you too.

But the truth is she doesn't just miss him—she misses who he used to be with her. The Joe who would actually turn off his phone. Who cared about her day, not just the parts that fit around football. This version feels like someone else entirely.

This morning, Joe's kitchen:

"I can drive you to the airport," Joe offered, grabbing his keys.

"It's fine. I called a car."

"You sure? I don't have meetings until noon."

Riley could see he was already mentally somewhere else—probably thinking about practice, about the game plan, about everything except the fact that she was leaving again. "Yeah, I'm sure."

He kissed her goodbye at the door, distracted and quick. "Text me when you land?"

"I will."

But they both knew he probably wouldn't see it until hours later, buried between messages from coaches and teammates and everyone else who took precedence during football season.

Riley closes her eyes and tries to find a comfortable position. Seven more hours until London, then a full day of interviews where she'll have to smile and talk about her music while running on no sleep and too much caffeine.

Her phone buzzes again. A text from Andy: How was Cincinnati?

She types and deletes three different responses before settling on: Fine.

It's not fine, though. Nothing about this feels fine. Joe said he was trying to figure out how to choose her, but the moment football season started, everything went right back to how it was before.

She's still the only one reaching. Loving him is starting to feel like chasing him.

Riley looks at her phone again. Joe's "miss you already" text, her automatic "Miss you too" response. A week ago, that exchange would have made her heart race. Now it just feels hollow.

When did she become the only one reaching? When did loving him start feeling like chasing him?

Seven hours to London. Seven hours to figure out how to smile and talk about her music while pretending everything's fine.

For the first time since that night in her living room when Joe asked her to stay with him, Riley wonders if she should have said no.

* * *

September-1st Game of the Season

Riley - 2:47 PM London time (9:47 AM Cincinnati): Good luck today baby. I know you're going to be amazing.

Riley - 3:15 PM: Thinking about you. Wish I could be there.

Riley - 4:30 PM: Still no response? Everything okay?

Riley - 5:45 PM: Joe?

Riley stares at her phone screen in her London hotel room, watching the delivered messages pile up with no response. She's been up since 6 AM doing BBC Radio interviews, but all she can think about is Joe's first game of the season starting in an hour.

Riley - 6:00 PM (1:00 PM Cincinnati - Kickoff): Game's starting. I'm watching on my laptop. You've got this.

She settles into bed with her laptop balanced on her knees, the NFL app streaming the Bengals vs. Steelers game. The hotel room is dark except for the glow of the screen, and Riley pulls a blanket around herself as she watches Joe take the field.

Riley - 6:23 PM: You look so focused out there. Doing amazing.

Riley - 6:45 PM: I have no idea what's happening but you look good doing it.

Riley - 7:30 PM (Halftime): They're winning but you've got this. Second half.

The Bengals are struggling. Pittsburgh's defense is relentless, and Joe's getting pressured on every play. Riley finds herself holding her breath every time he drops back to pass, texting encouragement she knows he won't see until after the game.

Riley - 8:15 PM: That hit looked bad. Are you okay?

Riley - 8:47 PM: Come on baby. One touchdown. You can do this.

Riley - 9:20 PM (Game ends, Bengals lose 21-10): I'm sorry. You played your heart out. You'll get them next time.

Riley - 9:45 PM: Joe? Just want to make sure you're okay.

Riley - 11:30 PM: I know you're probably in meetings or with the team. Call me when you can?

Riley - 1:15 AM: Are you ignoring me?

It's nearly 2 AM London time when Riley's phone finally buzzes with an incoming FaceTime call. She answers immediately, and Joe's face appears on screen—hair still damp from the shower, jaw tight with frustration.

"Hey," she says softly. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay. We lost." His voice is flat, exhausted.

"I watched the whole game. You looked good out there, even though they kept hitting you—"

"Riley, I don't want to talk about the game."

She blinks, taken aback by his tone. "Okay. I was just... I was trying to be supportive. I sent you texts all day."

"I don't check my phone on game days."

"What?"

Joe rubs his face with his hands. "I don't talk to anyone the day before or day of games. I go dark."

Riley stares at him through the screen. "You never told me that."

"I thought you knew."

"How would I know that? You've never mentioned it once." Her voice gets sharper. "I stayed up all night watching your game, Joe. I've been worried sick because you weren't responding to anything."

"I can't be thinking about texts when I'm trying to prepare."

"I wasn't asking you to respond during the game. But before? After? Some acknowledgment that your girlfriend exists?"

Joe's expression hardens. "This is exactly why I don't talk to people on game days. I can't deal with this right now."

"Deal with what? Me caring about you?"

"I lost, Riley. I threw two interceptions. The last thing I need is—"

"Is what? Support? Someone who care about you trying to be there for you?"

"I need space to process this."

Riley feels something cold settle in her chest. "Space from me."

"Space from everyone."

"But especially me."

Joe doesn't deny it, and that silence says everything.

"I can't do this," Riley says quietly. "I can't keep being shut out of the most important part of your life."

"Football has to come first during the season. You know that."

"I know that football is important. What I didn't know is that means I don't exist."

Joe's jaw tightens. "That's not fair."

"Are you kidding me? When do I come first, Joe? When do I get to matter?"

"Riley—"

But she's already ended the call.

Riley sits in her dark hotel room, staring at the black screen of her phone. It's 2:30 AM in London, and she has morning interviews in six hours. But all she can think about is the look on Joe's face when she asked when she gets to matter.

Like it was a question he'd never considered before.

Riley's phone buzzes less than five minutes after she ended the call. Joe's name appears on the screen.

She stares at it for two rings before answering.

"What?"

"Don't hang up." Joe's voice is quieter now, less sharp. "Please."

Riley doesn't say anything, but she doesn't hang up either.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I shouldn't have taken the loss out on you."

"No, you shouldn't have."

"And I should have told you about game days. I assumed you knew, but you didn't. That's on me."

Riley shifts against her hotel pillows, exhausted. "Joe, I stayed up all night to watch you play. I was trying to support you."

"I know. And I appreciate that, I do. I just... I don't think clearly after losses."

"It's not just about tonight. It's about me not knowing basic things about your life. About feeling like I'm always on the outside of the most important part of who you are."

Joe is quiet for a moment. "I'll try to be more upfront about what game day stuff looks like for me. What the season looks like. I don't want you feeling shut out."

"Okay."

"Are we okay?"

Riley closes her eyes. She's too tired to fight, too tired to explain again why this hurt. "Yeah. We're okay."

"Get some sleep. I know you have early interviews."

"Yeah. I do."

"Riley?"

"What?"

"Thank you. For watching. For caring. I know I didn't say that before."

"You're welcome."

After they hang up, Riley lies in the dark staring at the ceiling. Joe apologized, promised to be more communicative about his boundaries. It should feel like progress.

Instead, it just feels like another conversation where she has to adjust her expectations to fit his world.

Riley sets an alarm and tries to fall asleep.

* * *

Riley sits cross-legged on the floor of the rehearsal studio, still catching her breath from running through "Lonely Is the Muse" for the tenth time today. The mock stage setup towers behind her—lights, risers, even a replica of the LED backdrop that will follow them around the world. Her phone is propped against her water bottle as she FaceTimes Joe, who's presumably at home in Cincinnati.

"You should see this setup," she says, angling the phone so he can see the stage. "It's insane. Andy designed this whole lighting sequence that syncs with the guitar solo in 'Lilith,' and Pete's been working on these harmonies that—"

"That's cool," Joe says, but his attention seems split. Riley can see him looking at something off-camera.

"Are you listening to me?"

"Just checking something real quick." He looks back at the phone. "Sorry. The stage looks good."

Riley tries not to let her irritation show. "We've been rehearsing for twelve hours a day. I'm exhausted but also kind of terrified and excited all at the same time. Tour starts in three weeks."

"You'll be great. You always are."

"I hope so." Riley shifts, tucking her legs under her. "Actually, I was thinking—you have your bye week coming up, right? End of October?"

"Yeah."

"You should come here. See the rehearsals, hang out while we're in prep mode. I could show you around the studio complex, introduce you to everyone properly." Riley's voice gets more animated as she talks. "You could watch us work through the setlist, see what this whole thing looks like from the inside."

Joe is quiet for a moment. "I don't know, Riley."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean, bye weeks are usually when I catch up on rest. Recovery. I don't really go anywhere during the season."

Riley frowns. "But it's your week off. And I'm asking you to come see something that's really important to me."

"I know it's important—"

"I don't think you do. Because it feels like you think my work is just a fun little hobby compared to yours."

"That's not true."

"Then why won't you come?"

Joe runs a hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable. "It's complicated."

"How is it complicated? You get on a plane, you come to LA, you spend time with your girlfriend. What's complicated about that?"

"Riley, we're still laying low, remember? After the whole Ethan thing? My team thinks it's better if I'm not seen—"

"Your team thinks it's better if you're not seen with me."

"That's not what I said."

"It's what you meant." Riley's voice gets sharper. "Joe, that was two months ago. How long are we supposed to hide because my drunk ex made a scene?"

"It's not hiding, it's being smart. The season just started, and things are going well, and I don't want to create any distractions—"

"I'm a distraction."

"No, the media attention is a distraction."

"Same thing." Riley stands up, pacing the small area in front of her phone. "God, we're right back where we started, aren't we?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're still more worried about how things look than about being with me. Nothing's actually changed."

Joe's jaw tightens. "Come on, Riley. I've been trying to be better about communication—"

"Communication isn't the only problem, Joe. The problem is that you don't want to be seen with me. The problem is that I've flown to Cincinnati three times in the past month, but you won't come here once because you're worried about your precious image."

"Riley—"

"When's the last time you came to my world? When's the last time you made an effort to see what my life looks like instead of me always fitting into yours?"

"I came to your show in LA—"

"You came to my show in July with your friends, and that's it." Riley's voice cracks slightly. "I'm about to go on tour, Joe. This is the last chance we have to spend time together before I'm gone for months, and you're worried about people taking pictures of us."

Joe is quiet, and Riley can see him processing what she's saying. Finally, he speaks. "I just think it's better to be careful right now."

Riley stops pacing. "Better for who?"

"For both of us."

"No, Joe. Better for you. This is better for you." She picks up her phone, bringing it closer to her face. "I'm tired of being your secret. I'm tired of being the thing you have to manage and protect and hide from the world."

"You're not—"

"I am, though. That's exactly what I am." Riley's voice gets quieter, more defeated. "You know what? Forget I asked. Enjoy your bye week. Rest up, recover, do whatever you need to do."

"Riley, don't hang up. Let's talk about this."

"What's there to talk about? You made your choice. You always make the same choice."

"That's not true."

Riley looks at him through the screen, this man she's been trying to love despite how hard he makes it. "Name one time you've chosen me over what's safe for your career. One time."

Joe opens his mouth, then closes it. The silence stretches between them.

"That's what I thought," Riley says quietly.

"Riley—"

But she's already ended the call.

Riley sits in the empty rehearsal studio, surrounded by the elaborate stage setup that represents months of planning and preparation for the biggest tour of her career. In three weeks, she'll be performing these songs for thousands of people who love her music, who've been waiting for this moment almost as much as she has.

And the person she wants to share it with most is too worried about his image to show up.

She picks up her guitar and starts playing the opening chords to "Lonely Is the Muse," letting the music fill the silence Joe left behind.

* * *

Late October 

Riley sits on Joe's couch, watching him ice his shin for the third time since she arrived two hours ago. He's been rotating between the couch and the kitchen, restless and irritated, moving the ice pack every few minutes like he can't get comfortable.

"How long has it been bothering you?" she asks, setting down her coffee.

"Couple weeks." Joe adjusts the ice pack, wincing slightly. "It's fine. Just annoying."

"Have you had it looked at?"

"Yeah. They said it's minor. Just needs rest."

Riley watches him fidget with the ice pack, his jaw tight with frustration. She flew in this morning from LA, using her one day off between rehearsal blocks to see him, and he's been like this since she walked in the door—distracted, moody, barely acknowledging that she's here.

"You've seemed off," she says carefully. She's been watching his games when she can, trying to understand his world better after their last fight.

Joe's head snaps up. "What?"

"In the games I've watched. You just look... frustrated. More than usual."

"Since when do you analyze my games?"

"Since I'm trying to understand what's going on with you." Riley shifts on the couch to face him. "You look different out there."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You're limping around your house icing your leg every twenty minutes."

Joe stands up abruptly, the ice pack falling to the floor. "It's just a minor thing. Shin splints or something. It'll heal."

"Joe—"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Riley stares at him as he paces to the kitchen, his movements stilted and careful. She's seen him frustrated before, but this feels different. Angrier. Like he's mad at his own body for betraying him.

"I'm trying to help," she says when he comes back with a different ice pack.

"I don't need help. I need this thing to stop hurting so I can play."

"Maybe you need to take some time—"

"I can't take time. We're 4-3, Riley. Every game matters."

"Your health matters too."

Joe laughs, but there's no humor in it. "My health matters when we're winning. Right now, I need to play through whatever this is."

Riley watches him settle back on the couch, immediately shifting to find a comfortable position for his leg. "Is this why you've been so..."

"So what?"

"Distant. Moody. Harder to reach than usual."

"I haven't been moody."

"Joe, I texted you good morning three days ago and you responded with 'ok.'"

"I was busy."

"With what? Icing your shin?"

Joe's expression darkens. "Don't."

"Don't what? Point out that you're taking your frustration out on me?"

"I'm not taking anything out on you."

"Then why does it feel like you resent me being here?"

Joe is quiet for a long moment, staring at the ice pack on his shin. "I don't resent you being here."

"You haven't asked me about tour prep once since I got here. You haven't asked about my day, about the flight, about anything. I might as well be invisible."

"I've got a lot on my mind."

"I know. Your shin, the games, the pressure. I get it. But I'm here, Joe. I'm trying to be supportive, and you're acting like I'm bothering you."

 Joe looks at her then, and for a moment his expression softens. "You're not bothering me."

"Then what's going on? Because this feels like more than just a sore leg."

Joe runs a hand through his hair, a gesture Riley recognizes as him trying to find words he doesn't want to say. "Everything's off right now. My timing, my accuracy, my decision-making. And this stupid shin thing is making it worse because I can't plant my foot right."

"So fix it. See a specialist, get treatment, whatever you need to do."

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because if they think it's serious, they'll want me to sit. And I can't sit. Not with how we're playing."

Riley stares at him. "You'd rather play hurt than take care of yourself?"

"I'd rather not let my team down."

"What about letting yourself down? What about letting me down by shutting me out every time something goes wrong?"

Joe's jaw tightens again. "That's not what I'm doing."

"But that's what it feels like. From where I'm sitting, it feels exactly like what you're doing."

They sit in silence for a moment, the tension thick between them. Riley watches Joe adjust the ice pack again, his movements careful and frustrated.

"Maybe I should just give you some space," she says finally.

"You don't have to do that."

"Yeah, I do. You clearly don't want company right now."

"Riley—"

But she's already standing, heading toward the stairs. "I'm going to go read or something. Let me know if you need anything."

Joe doesn't argue, doesn't get up from the couch, doesn't try to stop her.

Riley goes upstairs to his bedroom and closes the door behind her. She sits on the edge of the bed, staring at her phone, wondering why she keeps coming back to someone who makes her feel more alone when she's with him than when she's actually alone.

Twenty minutes later, she hears footsteps on the stairs. Joe opens the bedroom door quietly, like he's not sure if she wants to see him.

"Hey," he says from the doorway.

Riley looks up from her phone. "Hey."

"Can I come in?"

She nods, and Joe walks over to the bed, sitting down beside her with a slight wince as he adjusts his leg.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I've been an ass."

Joe runs a hand through his hair. "This thing with my shin, it's got me all fucked up. I can't plant my foot right, and it's throwing off everything. My throws, my reads, my timing. Everything feels off."

Riley turns to face him. "So why take it out on me?"

"I don't know. Because you're here, I guess. Because it's easier than dealing with the fact that I might be losing a step."

"You're not losing a step. You're hurt."

"Same thing in this business."

Riley studies his face, seeing the frustration and fear he's been hiding behind his moodiness. "Joe, you can talk to me about this stuff. I want you to talk to me about it."

"I know. I just... I don't like feeling weak."

"Being hurt isn't weak. Being an asshole to the people who care about you is."

Joe looks at her, and for the first time all day, he really sees her. "You flew here to see me."

"I did."

"And I've been treating you like shit since you walked in."

"Pretty much."

Joe reaches for her hand. "I'm sorry, Riley. Really. I don't want you to feel like you're not welcome here."

Riley squeezes his hand. "I just want to help. I want to be here for you when things are hard."

"You are. Even when I'm too stupid to appreciate it."

They sit in silence for a moment before Joe lies back on the bed, pulling Riley down with him. She curls up against his side, careful of his injured leg.

"I'm sorry I made you feel like you didn't matter."

Riley lifts her head to look at him. "Do I matter?"

"You matter the most Birdie."

* * *

November

The pocket collapses faster than Joe expects.

He's got Ja'Marr running a comeback route, sees the window opening, but Baltimore's pass rush is relentless tonight. Roquan Smith is coming hard from the left side, and Joe feels the familiar pressure that means he's got maybe half a second to get rid of the ball.

He steps up in the pocket, trying to buy time, but the protection breaks down completely. Bodies everywhere, purple jerseys converging. Joe scrambles right, looking for an escape route, the ball still tucked against his chest.

The hit comes from behind and to the side—a combination of defensive linemen collapsing the pocket. Joe goes down hard, his right hand hitting the turf first as he tries to brace his fall. The impact sends a shock wave up his arm, but it's not until he tries to push himself up that he feels it.

Sharp, electric pain shooting from his wrist straight up to his elbow.

Joe rolls over, sitting up on the field, and looks down at his right hand. It looks normal, but when he tries to flex his wrist, the pain is immediate and breathtaking. Not the dull ache of his shin, which has been manageable for weeks. This is different. This is wrong.

"You good, Joe?" Ja'Marr is standing over him, helmet off, concern written across his face.

Joe nods automatically, the way he always does, but when he tries to push himself to his feet using his right hand, the pain nearly makes him sick. He gets up using his left hand instead, cradling his right arm against his body.

The Ravens defense is celebrating—they got the sack, stopped the drive. The crowd at M&T Bank Stadium is deafening. Joe walks slowly toward the huddle, trying to shake off whatever's wrong with his wrist, but every step sends jarring pain up his arm.

"Let's go, offense!" he calls out, trying to sound normal, but his voice feels tight.

In the huddle, Joe holds the play sheet with his left hand. When he claps to break the huddle, he uses his left hand against his thigh instead of clapping normally. His teammates don't notice, but Joe notices everything. The way his right hand feels weak and unstable. The way gripping the football sends shooting pain through his wrist.

The next snap comes fast. Joe takes the ball, tries to set up for a quick slant to Tyler Boyd, but when he goes to release the ball, his wrist can't support the throwing motion. The ball wobbles out of his hand, falling incomplete five yards short of the target.

Joe stares down at his right hand, flexing his fingers. They move, but his wrist feels like it's full of broken glass.

"Joe!" Coach Taylor is calling for a timeout, jogging onto the field. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Joe says, but he's not good. He knows he's not good. He's played through pain before—the shin, countless bumps and bruises, the appendectomy his rookie year. This is different.

Dr. Sparks, the team physician, approaches with the medical staff. "What's going on?"

"Wrist," Joe says simply, holding up his right hand. "Landed on it weird."

Dr. Sparks takes Joe's hand, gently rotating the wrist. The pain is immediate and sharp enough that Joe has to bite back a curse.

"Can you grip?" Dr. Sparks asks, handing Joe a football.

Joe takes it with his right hand, tries to squeeze. His grip strength is maybe thirty percent of normal, and even that causes significant pain. When he tries to cock his arm back in a throwing motion, the pain is so intense his vision blurs for a second.

"I can't throw," Joe admits, the words feeling like giving up.

Coach Taylor's face falls. "Can you hand it off? Run some read-option?"

Joe tries to grip the ball again, tries to simulate a handoff motion. Even that simple movement sends pain shooting up his arm. "I don't think so."

The stadium noise fades into background static as Dr. Sparks examines Joe's wrist more thoroughly on the sideline. Teammates pat his shoulders as they pass, offering encouragement, but Joe barely hears them. All he can think about is the calendar in his head—nine games left in the season, playoffs within reach, everything they've worked for since August.

"We need to get this X-rayed," Dr. Sparks says quietly. "Tonight."

Joe looks out at the field, where Jake Browning is warming up, preparing to take over. The scoreboard shows 10-7 Ravens, second quarter, plenty of time to come back. Except Joe won't be the one leading the comeback.

"How bad?" Joe asks.

Dr. Sparks doesn't answer immediately, which tells Joe everything he needs to know.

As Joe walks toward the tunnel, his right arm held carefully against his body, he thinks about Riley. She's in New York doing press appearances, probably at some late night show, completely unaware that his season might have just ended on a routine play against a Baltimore pass rush that got home half a second too fast.

The crowd noise follows him into the tunnel—cheers for Baltimore, sympathy from the few Bengals fans who made the trip. Joe doesn't look back at the field. If this is as bad as it feels, he's already seen enough football for 2023.

In the locker room, alone except for medical staff, Joe sits on the training table and stares at his right hand. The hand that's supposed to hold footballs, sign autographs, win championships. The hand that's supposed to touch Riley's face when he tells her he loves her, whenever he finally works up the courage to say it.

Right now, it can barely hold a cup of water.

Dr. Sparks returns with preliminary results that confirm what Joe already knows: his season is over. The scapholunate ligament in his wrist is torn, requiring surgery and months of rehabilitation.

Joe nods when he hears the diagnosis, like he expected it. Because deep down, from the moment he hit the ground, he knew. You don't play quarterback in the NFL for five years without learning to distinguish between pain you can play through and pain that means something is fundamentally broken.

As the medical staff discusses surgery timelines and recovery protocols, Joe's phone buzzes with texts he can't respond to yet. Teammates, family, reporters. The outside world learning what happened.

But the person he most wants to talk to is in New York, probably charming some talk show host or doing interviews, completely unaware that everything just changed.

Joe closes his eyes and tries not to think about how long it's going to be before he can throw a football again. Tries not to think about Riley, and how she's going to drop everything to be here for him, just like she always does.

Tries not to think about how he doesn't deserve that kind of loyalty, but how desperately he needs it anyway.

* * *

Riley sits in the green room at The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, watching Thursday Night Football on her phone while Stephen's monologue plays on the monitor overhead. Pete, Andy, and Daniel are sprawled across the couches around her—they're all appearing together tonight, doing "Daylight" as a full band performance.

"Twenty minutes until we're on," Andy says, tuning his guitar. "You nervous?"

"Nah, this is easy compared to tour prep," Riley replies, though she's actually looking forward to it. Playing with the guys always feels more natural than solo appearances.

Daniel's practicing paradiddles on his thighs while Pete scrolls through his phone. Riley keeps her phone tilted toward herself, watching the Ravens at Bengals game. Joe mentioned this game in his last text—division rival, important for playoff positioning.

She sees him drop back to pass, the pocket collapsing, bodies in purple jerseys converging.

Then she sees him go down.

At first, it looks like any other sack. Joe gets hit, stays down for a moment, then starts to get up. But something about the way he's moving catches Riley's attention. He's cradling his right arm against his body, his throwing hand held carefully away from his body.

"Oh no," Riley whispers, sitting up straighter.

"What?" Pete looks over at her.

Riley doesn't answer, too focused on her phone screen. The next play makes it obvious. Joe takes the snap, tries to throw, and the ball comes out weak and wobbly, falling short of the receiver. Even Riley, who knows nothing about football technique, can see that throw was wrong.

"Shit," she breathes, turning her phone so the guys can see. "Something's wrong with Joe."

All three of them crowd around her phone now, watching as Joe walks toward the sideline, medical staff surrounding him. The camera zooms in on his face, and even through his helmet, Riley can see the frustration and pain written there.

"That's not good," Daniel says quietly.

"That looks really bad," Andy adds.

Riley's phone starts buzzing with notifications, but she keeps watching. Joe's on the sideline now, clearly not going back in. Jake Browning is warming up on the field.

A production assistant appears in the doorway. "Five minutes to places, everyone."

Riley looks up, torn between professional obligation and personal crisis. "I need to—"

"You need to perform," Pete says gently. "You can't do anything right now anyway. Do the song, then figure out what's next."

Riley nods, knowing he's right but hating it. She puts her phone in her jacket pocket, but her hands are shaking slightly.

"Hey," Andy says, catching her arm. "He's going to be okay."

"You don't know that."

"No, but I know you. And I know you'll go crazy if you don't at least try to get through this performance first."

Riley takes a deep breath, trying to center herself. "If I get through this song and fly out tonight, can you guys handle the interview? And tomorrow's press?"

"Of course," Daniel says immediately.

"Whatever you need," Pete adds.

Riley nods, grateful for the millionth time that these three have her back no matter what.

"Alright, let's go play a song."

The performance is muscle memory. Riley's done "Daylight" hundreds of times now, and playing with Pete, Andy, and Daniel feels natural even when her mind is three hundred miles away in Baltimore. She smiles when she's supposed to, and to anyone watching, she probably looks like an artist having fun promoting her upcoming tour.

But the entire time, all she can think about is Joe walking off that field, holding his wrist like something inside it was broken.

The moment they finish the song and the cameras cut to commercial, Riley is already moving.

"That was great, guys," Stephen says, shaking hands with the band. "We'll do a quick interview segment when we come back."

"Actually," Pete jumps in smoothly, "Riley has to step out for a family emergency, but we'd love to chat with you about the tour."

Riley shoots him a grateful look as she heads toward the exit. Her phone is already in her hand, pulling up flight apps as she walks.

"Riley!" Andy calls after her. "Text us when you know something."

She nods without looking back, already focused on getting to Cincinnati as fast as possible.

In the hallway outside the studio, Riley calls Scout while simultaneously booking the next available flight.

"Riley? How was Colbert?"

"Joe's hurt. I need to get to Cincinnati tonight. Can you handle the Morning Show appearance tomorrow, the guys are gonna do it alone.  Can you make sure they are prepped?"

"Of course. How hurt?"

Riley pauses, watching the replay of Joe's injury that's now cycling on sports news. "Bad, I think. Really bad."

"Go. I'll handle everything here."

An hour later, Riley is in an Uber Black to JFK, still in her black leather jacket from the show. Her phone buzzes constantly with updates from ESPN, texts from friends who saw the news, missed calls from people wanting to know if she's okay.

But the only call that matters—from Joe himself—never comes.

Riley stares out the window at the New York City lights rushing past and tries not to think about what it means that he hasn't reached out. Tries not to think about how she's dropping everything, again, for someone who might not even want her there.

But she knows she doesn't really have a choice. When someone you love is hurt, you go. Even if the relationship is complicated, even if you've been fighting, even if you're not sure where you stand.

You go anyway.

* * *

Riley manages to get on the last flight to Cincinnati, a red-eye that doesn't leave until 11:47 PM. She sits in her window seat, finally allowing herself to process what just happened. Four hours ago she was getting ready to perform on national television. Now she's flying to Cincinnati because the man she loves got hurt and she couldn't stay away.

Once the plane reaches cruising altitude, Riley pulls out her phone and opens her text thread with Joe. Their last exchange was three days ago—him saying good luck with Colbert, her thanking him.

She starts typing.

I'm on a plane to Cincinnati. Landing at 3:20 AM. No use arguing about it, I'm already in the air. I'll call a car from the airport, don't worry about anything.

She hits send before she can second-guess herself.

The response comes faster than she expected.

Riley you didn't have to do that

I know. But I did.

I'm having someone pick you up. Don't argue.

Riley stares at his text, feeling something loosen in her chest. He's not telling her not to come. He's not angry that she dropped everything. He's making sure she gets to him safely.

Okay.

Thank you for coming.

Riley closes her eyes and leans back against the headrest. Outside the window, the lights of the East Coast pass by below. In a few hours, she'll be in Cincinnati, and whatever happens next, at least she'll be there.

Always, she types back. I'll always come.

* * *

Joe sits in the back of a team car leaving Baltimore, his right wrist wrapped and elevated against his chest. It's past midnight, and the highway stretches ahead—about six hours back to Cincinnati so he can see the team doctors first thing in the morning. His wrist throbs with every bump in the road despite the pain medication.

Riley's coming. She's on a plane right now, flying here because he got hurt, even though they've barely been talking and he's been a complete ass to her for weeks.

He calls his parents in Athens.

"Joey?" Robin Burrow answers on the second ring, her voice tight with worry. "We saw what happened. How bad is it?"

"Bad, Mom. Season-ending. I'm flying back to Cincinnati now to see the team doctors tomorrow."

"Oh, honey. We're so sorry."

"Listen, I need a favor, and it's kind of a big one."

"Anything."

Joe takes a breath. "Riley's flying in from New York. Her plane lands at 3:20 AM in Cincinnati, but I won't get home until around six or seven. Could you and Dad drive up and pick her up, then stay with her until I get there? I don't want her sitting alone in my house for hours."

There's a pause, and Joe can practically hear his mom's understanding smile through the phone.

"Of course we can do that. Your father's already getting his keys."

"Mom, I knows it's the middle of the night—"

"Joey, if that girl is dropping everything to come here for you, the least we can do is make sure she's taken care of until you get home."

Relief floods through him. "Thank you. Seriously."

"I'll find her," Robin says. "She'll probably look exhausted."

"Yeah, she just finished a TV show in New York and got on the first plane she could find."

"I'm finally going to meet her," Robin says, and Joe can hear the mixture of excitement and concern in her voice.

"Yeah. I just... I wish it was under better circumstances."

"Honey, she's coming because she loves you. The circumstances don't matter."

After they hang up, Joe texts Riley: My parents are driving up from Athens to pick you up. Robin and Jimmy Burrow, they'll be at baggage claim. They're going to stay with you at my house until I get home around 7 AM.

Riley's response comes quickly: Joe, it's 3 AM and you're asking your parents to drive two hours to pick me up? I can't let them do that.

Too late. Already asked. Dad's already in the car.

I'm going to feel terrible about this.

Don't. They want to meet you anyway. And I don't want you sitting alone in my house for hours.

This isn't exactly how I imagined meeting your parents.

Joe stares at that text for a long moment. He hadn't really thought about Riley meeting his family before, but now that it's happening, it feels right. Inevitable, maybe.

They're going to love you, he types back.

I hope so.

Promise. See you in Cincinnati.

* * *

X (Twitter)

@NFLNewsNow BREAKING: Bengals QB Joe Burrow suffers season-ending wrist injury during Thursday Night Football loss to Ravens. Surgery expected within days. #Bengals #NFL

@SportsCenter Joe Burrow's 2023 season is over. The Bengals QB suffered a scapholunate ligament tear in his right wrist during tonight's game in Baltimore. 📺: ESPN

@PopCultureDaily Riley Carter just performed on @colbertlateshow but apparently left before the interview portion? The band did the interview without her. Wonder what was so urgent 👀

@bengalsfan2012 Replying to @PopCultureDaily Wait wasn't this the night Joe got hurt? Timeline seems suspicious...

@musicnews247 UPDATE: Sources say Riley Carter had a "family emergency" and had to leave Colbert taping early. The Rambles covered for her during interview segment.

@rileystanaccount Something's not right. Riley NEVER misses interviews. She's been promoting this tour for months. What kind of family emergency happens at 11 PM on a Thursday?

@footballwife23 Did anyone else notice the timing? Joe gets hurt around 9:30 PM, Riley leaves Colbert around 11 PM. Just saying 👀👀

@bengalsbabes Replying to @footballwife23 I've been saying they're together for MONTHS. This basically confirms it

Instagram Stories & Posts

@entertainmenttonight 🚨 JUST IN: @rileycarter unexpectedly left tonight's @colbertlateshow taping due to "urgent family matter." The singer performed but skipped the interview portion. Swipe for more ➡️

@deuxmoi Submitted Anon: "Was at Colbert taping tonight. Riley Carter seemed fine during performance but left immediately after. Heard someone say she was getting calls during commercial break and looked really upset. Band members covered for her with Stephen."

@popsugar Riley Carter makes rare early exit from late night TV 👀 The "Daylight" singer left @colbertlateshow before her scheduled interview, citing family emergency. This comes just hours after Bengals QB Joe Burrow's season-ending injury... 🤔 #RileyCarter #JoeBurrow

Reddit

r/bengals

Title: Anyone else think Riley Carter is flying to Cincinnati right now? Posted 3 hours ago

The timing is too perfect. Joe gets hurt around 9:30, she leaves Colbert around 11. "Family emergency" my ass. She's definitely on a plane.

UPDATE: Just checked flight tracking apps. There was a red-eye from JFK to CVG that left at 11:47 PM. Landing at 3:20 AM. 👀

Top comment: No way they're actually together though right? Wouldn't we have seen them by now?

Reply: They've been SUPER private if they are. Remember all those rumors that started back in February? But nothing ever confirmed even after all these months.

Reply: If this is real, Joe's making a huge mistake. She's nothing but drama and bad headlines. Remember that bar fight with her ex? We don't need that circus around our franchise QB.

Reply to reply: EXACTLY. She's been linked to like 3 different guys this year. Party girl with substance abuse rumors. Joe needs to focus on football, not babysitting some rock star.

Reply: Called it months ago - she's a clout chaser. Probably saw Joe get hurt and smelled an opportunity for sympathy headlines.

Reply: If Joe's really dating her, his performance this season makes SO much sense now. Dude's been off his game.

r/rileycarter

Title: What "family emergency" happens at 11 PM on a Thursday??? Posted 2 hours ago

Riley has never, and I mean NEVER, bailed on a major interview. She's done shows while sick, she's done press with bronchitis, she showed up to that radio interview the day after her grandma's funeral.

This is about a boy. Specifically a quarterback boy. Calling it now.

Top comment: The math is mathing. Joe injury -> Riley panic -> immediate flight to Cincinnati.

Reply: But why would she do that if they're not serious? You don't drop everything for a casual thing.

Reply to reply: EXACTLY. This feels like real relationship territory.

TikTok

@nflteaa (457K followers) Video showing side-by-side timeline "POV: You're connecting the dots 👀"

Sound: "And all the pieces fall right into place"

Comments: "NO WAY this is a coincidence" "She really said family emergency and got on a plane to Cincinnati I can't 😭" "This is either the most romantic thing ever or I'm delusional" "Plot twist: they've been dating this whole time"

@popculture.detective (1.2M followers) Video compilation of clips

Comments: "The way she RAN to that airport"

"This is giving secret relationship energy" 

"Imagine dropping everything and flying across the country for someone 🥺" 

"OK but if this is real they're actually perfect together???"

@riley.carter.updates (89K followers) Screenshot of Colbert audience member's tweet "GUYS. I was at the taping. Riley did her performance but then just... left. Didn't do the interview. Band said 'family emergency' but she looked completely shaken. Security rushed her out during commercial break."

Text overlay: "Family emergency or boyfriend emergency? 👀"

[rachxhjs]

Breeding Hyung

♡+. In which Soobin is a pervert who is obsessed with the idea of getting his best friend, Yeonjun pregnant. He would've never thought that his friend would find out, until he did.

Requested by, anon ♡

Tags;

Breeding, m preg, mentions of alcohol, size kink, bloating, top Soobin, bottom Yeonjun, mostly smut, light somnophilia, Soobin is kind of a creep, a pervert as well.

♡⁠˖.

Yeonjun exhaled as he rubbed over his stomach, letting out a grunt as he laid back in his seat, staring at the empty bowl in front of him. "I'm so full.."

Him and Soobin had started eating two hours ago. And while they watched a movie they had no time to focus on how full they felt, continuously eating until the video ended, making them both feel as stuffed as ever by the end. But especially Yeonjun, who had finished about three packs or ramen, excluding all the snacks on the side. "I think I might explode.. honestly. I ate way too much.. do you have a soda, or something? So I can burp?"

Soobin bit his bottom lip as he focused on the way Yeonjun rubbed over his bloated stomach, gulping strongly as he slightly shifted into his seat, fantasizing. He didn't know why he loved it so much, and it made him feel like a creep. But there was something about claiming Yeonjun in the way of getting him pregnant, breeding him with his babies and keeping them together forever. He wanted to cum inside of him so bad, so deeply. Wanted to press him against his body in the tightest way possible.

"Bin?" Yeonjun chuckled, following his gaze. "I know, I'm bloated. That's why I'm asking you for a soda. You good?" Soobin shook his head as he was taken out of his thoughts, hazily standing up. "Right, yes, sorry. I just zoned out." The male cleared his throat as he made his way to the fridge, grabbing the most nearby soda he could find. And then returning to the couch. Nervously handing the blonde his drink. "Thanks."

"Mhm." Soobin sat down on the couch again as he continued to gaze at Yeonjun's body, watching the way his adam's apple bounced with each gulp, making him inhale even more. Why was he being such a pervert? Yeonjun was his best friend, someone who felt safe with him. And he was ruining that. "Do you.. want to go sleep now?" Soobin brushed on the back of his head as he tried not to sound awkward, giving the older a simple smile.

"Sure, is everything alright? You look.. tensed. I hope nothing bad is on your mind."

"No, nothing bad. Don't worry, Hyung. I'm just tired." Soobin stood up as he tidied up his own dishes, brushing back on his hair as he made his way to the kitchen to rinse the plates before putting them in the dish washer, trying to be done as quick as possible. And as soon as he was, he walked to the bedroom, taking off his shirt so he'd be left in his boxers and sweats, still thinking. He had visibly become harder in his pants, and his cheeks had become red as well. But he just loved how Yeonjun was shorter than him, how cute he'd look when bulging, or pregnant. There was nothing better than comparing their sizes, it made his heart melt every time.

Just as Soobin was about to fix his pants he heard Yeonjun walked into the room, clearing his throat as he quickly covered his crotch area with the sheets, looking up at the older innocently. "Did you tidy up?"

"I did.. mhm. Are you tired? You ran off so quickly. Usually we clean up together." Yeonjun murmured, taking off his shirt as well, and then also his pants. "I just thought it was a bit weird. You love spending time together like that. And you know you should tell me when something is bothering you, we're best friends. We tell each other everything." The blonde murmured, getting under the sheets as well. Soobin turned off the main light in the room, then turning on the warm lamp on his nightstand, turning to face Yeonjun. "I don't know.. I think I was just really tired. Don't over think it. Okay, hyung? I'll be back to normal again tomorrow."

Yeonjun let out a huff before he nodded, scooting closer to his friend before he held his hand, caressing his knuckles. "Okay.. I believe you. Goodnight, then." The blonde turned around so that Soobin would face his back, closing his eyes as he breathed calmly, trying not to think too much. If Soobin said that he was just tired, then it had to be the truth. Why would he lie about something like that? There was no point. Maybe it was just a bit different today.

Meanwhile Soobin continued to stare at the older, inhaling softly as he wrapped one hand around his waist, pulling him closer as he waited for the blonde to fall asleep, occasionally glancing at him. "Hyung?" The blue haired called out in a quiet voice, staring at his features. "Hyung..?"

When the older didn't reply Soobin stared at him for a little longer, biting his bottom lip as he buried himself into the male's blonde hair, inhaling his scent like a creep. He smelled so good, it was insane. He had a comforting scent to him that was musky and warm, but not in a perfume way. Something like the smell of your childhood toy. It was the best.

Soobin let out a quiet wince as he pressed himself against the blonde, burying himself more into the blonde before he went down to his neck, inhaling on that area as well. If only he could put Yeonjun's odour and pour it into a bottle, he'd spray it all over his room, he wanted to breathe in his soul.

The younger male shivered as he let his nose rub against Yeonjun's skin, hand rubbing over the older's abdomen as he enjoyed the slight bump he had from all the food he ate, whimpering once again. In this moment, he had already forgotten that consequences existed, that he might lose Yeonjun forever if he woke up. He was too high on pleasure, too high on trying to take in every single inch of his body. And before he knew it, he was humping his boner against Yeonjun's boxers, huffing and panting needily in his ear, pressing him as close as possible to his body.

"Hyung.." The younger whimpered, squeezing into his stomach with his nails, gasping. "Need to.. get you pregnant.. I have to.." He murmured desperately, starting to buck his hips in a more aggressive way as his high started to approach, making him slightly drool over his lips. He was so close, just needed a few more seconds of inhaling his Hyung's scent and enjoying his body. "I'm gonna-"

"Get me pregnant?"

Soobin froze in his tracks as he stayed still, blinking a couple of times as the older turned around, making his face glow in an embarrassed shade of red. He was going to prison. "Sorry I- I think I.. I.. the alcohol.. I think I'm drunk.."

Yeonjun stared at Soobin's stressed face for a while longer before he pulled him closer, pressing their lips together in need while the blue haired stayed still in shock, completely catching him off guard. But as soon as Soobin realised what was happening he pressed Yeonjun closer to his body, letting out a moan as he happily melted into the kiss, almost cumming in his pants. "You were.. awake?"

"I was.. wanted to see what you would do. I was expecting an I love you.. but no, you became a puppy in heat." Yeonjun chuckled softly, cheeks pink as he had also grown hard in his pants, aching for touch. "Sorry.. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have.. I feel like a creep-"

"You are." Yeonjun replied in a giggle, staring at his best friend who was looking back at him in the most dazed way. "I never thought you'd be into.. getting people pregnant.." Soobin gulped as he looked away in embarrassment, biting his bottom lip and thinking deeply, not knowing how to reply. He had never felt this embarrassed before. Maybe if he stopped watching porn, or reading smut he wouldn't have been like this. He was starting to regret everything.

"Do you want to try?"

"What?"

Soobin stared at Yeonjun in confusion as his heart skipped a beat, watching the male as he shuffled under the sheets. And soon enough, he felt boxers being thrown at his face. He wanted to wrap them around his dick and jerk off, or press them against his face to inhale the scent.

"To get me pregnant. You never know."

Soobin could never understand how Yeonjun made it sound so casual, as if it was normal for two friends to try and get each other pregnant. It wasn't. "Are you making fun of me?" The blue haired asked as he felt scared, exhaling.

"If I was then why would I kiss you? Take these off." Yeonjun tossed away their blanket before he took off Soobin's pants, taking his boxers as well along the way and then grinning at the sight, looking up at his friend. "You'll for sure be able to get it in deep, hm? You want to breed Hyung?"

Soobin inhaled as he watched how Yeonjun wrapped his hand around his member, hissing softly and bucking him hips up already, on the verge of finishing. "Don't.. play with me.. I really.. need it. So hard.." Soobin winced softly as he continued to stare at his best friend, mouth agape as he saw him reach for his nightstand, rumagging around for lube and then taking it, applying it to both Soobin's member, as well as his entrance. "Prep me."

Soobin bit his bottom lip as he made Yeonjun climb on top of him, pressing one finger inside of him carefully and feeling around the warm area, already gasping at the tight sensation. He couldn't wait to be inside, to thrust himself against the male to make them both feel good. He wanted to make him bulge, to caress his tummy.

As soon as Soobin inserted another finger into the older male he listened to his whines, staring up at the blonde's expressions as he aimed for his prostate, pressing his palm against him with each movement. "Is it good.. Hyung?"

"So good.. add another one.. I want you." Yeonjun bit his bottom lip as he carefully guided another one of Soobin's fingers inside of his body, trembling in ecstasy. "Fuck.." Soobin watched how Yeonjun reacted to his fingers as he based his actions off of that, continued to move his hand until he thought that the other was ready, pulling out. "C'mere."

With a subtle swoop Soobin made Yeonjun lay down on his back, spreading his legs and squeezing more lube onto his entrance, panting. "You look.. so fucking fertile.. and small.. need you." The younger hissed, furrowing his brows as be rubbed himself against Yeonjun's hole, desperate. And judging from the way Yeonjun's member twitched in the air he must've enjoyed the words he was saying out loud, only motivating him to say more later.

And soon enough, Soobin pushed himself inside of the older, instantly letting out a moan of pleasure as he shivered out of sensitivity, staring down at Yeonjun who was wincing and chanting out all different sort of cuss words, looking as adorable as ever. "Good?" The younger whispered just to make sure, pressing himself more against the blonde as his mouth stayed open, pleased.

"Y-Yes.. fuck.. move, want you to move.."

"Okay, Hyung.." Soobin bit his bottom lip as he held onto Yeonjun's legs as if he was on a running machine, staring down at his friend's body for a while longer before he slowly moved his hips back and forth, whimpering needily. This could never compare to the feeling of his hand. If wasn't nearly as tight, or warm. Plus the entire experience of Yeonjun being there, and trying to get him pregnant was overwhelming. But overwhelmingly good.

"Soobin.. shit.." Yeonjun winced, arching his back as the blue haired continued to slam his hips against the blonde's butt, focused on planting his seed deep inside of the other. "That feels.. crazy.. never knew it would be like this-"

"I know.. I don't think I'll last long though.. this is all just so much for me.." Soobin admitted in a soft cry as his thrusts already started to get sloppy, tip throbbing in need of release. But he continued to thrust into Yeonjun's tight opening so he could please them both, eyebrows furrowed as he moaned. "That's okay.. me neither.. a bit faster, go faster.."

Soobin let out a quiet grunt as he leaned forward, pressing Yeonjun's legs up to his chest while leaning forward to fuck into him more precisely, continuously rubbing his tip over the older's prostate. And as soon as he saw the way Yeonjun's eyes rolled to the back of his head he knew he was doing the right thing, aiming for the same specific spot each time. It almost sounded like Yeonjun was crying at that point, and his body seemed to be in pure bliss. It was an honour to Soobin that he was the one that could make him feel like that. "Soobin.. I'm going to cum.."

Soobin panted as his eyes glanced down to Yeonjun's tip leaking in precum, letting go of his right leg so he could jerk him off in the same tempo as his thrusts, whimpering. "Me too.. cum for me.. fuck. Can't wait to see you pregnant with my babies.. want to breed you, so badly.." The blue haired male cried out as he sped up his pace, pounding into his best friend as sloppy slapping sounds started to fill the room, as well as needy, and desperate moans. And soon enough, Yeonjun came all over this chest. Meanwhile Soobin pressed himself as deep as he could into the male's entrance, pumping his seed inside of him as deep as he could, shooting it up even more deep.

It felt like both of their souls had left their bodies, all the stress, aches and bad thoughts had left their bodies with such an intense orgasm, making them both shake in pure bliss. Soobin knew this wouldn't be the last time for them to do this, and he loved that. Turns out, he was actually kind of happy with his porn addiction. "Fuck.. that was.."

"Insane." Soobin finished, caressing Yeonjun's cheek as his other hand carefully pulled his swollen member outside of Yeonjun's stretched and bred hole, making him gasp. "Mm.. crazy.. we're gonna have to do this again.. tomorrow, if we want to get you pregnant for sure."

"What?" Yeonjun giggled weakly, squirming lightly as he suddenly felt empty, holding onto his stomach. "We'll try everyday.. I need to, Hyung.. I have to.." Soobin buried himself into the blonde's chest as he continued to pant, throbbing. Meanwhile Yeonjun was just a bit taken aback by the idea, but it didn't sound bad. He'd probably enjoy, secretly. "Okay.."

"Round two? To make sure today counts?" Soobin asked softly, gazing up at the blonde with a soft grin, eyes sparkling. How could Yeonjun ever say no to him?

"Let's go."

To anon,

Hi! I hope it was okay and that it fit the description you sent me, I added some more extra kinks to really fufill the whole 'pervert vibe'. Let me know if I missed anything though, there's always room for improvement 🫶🏻

And to anyone who read this,

Thank you so much for reading and I hope that you enjoyed <3 I hope you can look forward to the future things I'll write! I appreciate any support.

[dragolord19delta]

A Meet and Greet at Sonic Fankid Showdown!

@sonic-fankid-showdown

Sonic Fankid Arena

Cafeteria

"Welcome to the Sonic Fankid Meet and Greet!"

Starlis took a sip of the cup of punch she had snagged as she watched the host for this year, a red quokka named Barry, address the crowd. "This will be a day where you all introduce yourselves in the hopes of maybe making a new friend or three." As she continued watching and listening to him speak about the meet and greet, Starlis ran a hand through her dark-blue spiny quills nervously. 'Deep breath, girl. This isn't that bad!' Starlis mentally reprimanded herself.

As Barry continued his announcements, the small bits of conversation could be heard amongst the murmurs of the other 63 Fankids present. All of this did little to ease the nerves of the 17-year-old Hybrid Hedgehog. Starlis adjusted her sunglasses before running a paw over her head quills. 'Okay, no need to overthink things, girl. Let's just do this. Gaia, Zia's the talker, not me! Still, she'll be so disappointed in me if I just hang back this whole time…'

Taking a few more steps into the room, she kept an eye out for other attendees.

They have a LOT of food…

"Here I go!"

Taking one last calming breath, she started towards the food table. 'The one cool thing about this is seeing all the… what-ifs? I guess?' Starlis mused. She eyed the people around her as she made her way towards the food table. There were even some Echidnas! Thinking of Uncle Knucks having kids was… weird. For so long, it had just been her, Zia, and Robin thinking that the rest of the family having kids was… strange.

Might as well make a good impression. At the very least, Starlis wanted not to get too nervous or flustered…

Meanwhile, Nightshade was just casually on the outside looking in as she watched everyone from a safe distance away. She didn't feel like socializing too much but came anyway to check the other fankids out, and there were a lot of them. She decided to check out the refreshment table since there were a couple of people there already. She saw a small dark blue hedgehog with red streaks in her quills that looked a lot like her dad's quills. She kinda dug the look, actually, more metal than emo, but she wasn't about judging someone else's style. Though she didn't recognize who this person was, she thought Why the hell not. She smiled at her as she went closer to the table. "Hi," Shade said with a wave.

"I-oh!" Starlis had been so lost in her own thoughts while browsing the refreshments on hand that she wasn't quite sure what startled her from her reverie: The sight of someone nearly two feet taller than her, the subtle smell of lavender and something… musky, dog-like scent wafting by her olfactory senses, or the deep yet clearly female voice behind her.

All she knew was that she jumped hard.

"WAAAUGH-!" The result of her jump was a startled yelp, and she barely held back the instinctive impulse to use Hyperspeed to boost her spin. But Hyperspeed wasn't on her feet… and her hands were full of a plate of chicken kabobs!

Despite her best attempt, the entire serving of those delectable poultry morsels… slid off her plate and onto the ground, and lay there in all of its splattered chicken glory. A moment of silence was in the air.

'…aaaaawwww, stinky weasel-babies', was all Starlis could think. "… uhm… Hello?" she said at length, her quills slumping with the same speed as her tail had. 'Great. I'm already screwing up…' And of course she had a smudge of hot sauce on her cheek too! Despite the shades she wore, Starlis had a very distinctive blush on her cheeks.

Shade felt a little bad when she watched the shorter metalhead (She had what looked like a standard metal font band shirt on) practically drop her meal just because Shade scared her. She was glad the chicken hadn't gotten onto their clothes, but the girl looked so disappointed. "Shoot, sorry didn't mean to startle you like that," Shade said embarrassed that she could have made her jump that badly.

"T-that's ok, just… nervous is all…" Starlis replied quietly as she bent down to pick up her plate and the kabobs that had fallen off of it. "… not big on socializing…"

Shade looked at the poor girl who was looking at her food. Shade thought about something for a moment, then came up with an idea. "You want me to help you get another serving while I get mine? Then maybe we can hang out for a little bit?" she asked.

Starlis couldn't help but be surprised by the offer. It wasn't what she had expected in response to… well, THAT disaster. She looked up at Shade, taking a moment to process the height difference between them. She had never met a Mobian this tall!

"… uhm, sure!" She finally said after a few more moments of thought, nodding before extending her free hand. "I'm Starlis, nice to meet you!"

Shade took Starlis's hand and gave it a firm shake, "Nice ta meet ya too Starlis," she said with a grin. "I'm Nightshade or Shade if ya want"

Starlis looked at Shade carefully, eyes flicking over her face. The third eye was… different. Mobius had no shortage of odd species and even odder hybrid traits, but a third eye? The only person she knew was… "Um, is one of your parents Shadow the Hedgehog?"

Shade nodded as she started gathering food onto her plate. "Yeah, Shadow and Sonic are my fathers, actually." She said with a smile.

Starlis perked up at that, beaming brightly. "No way! They're my dads too! That's wild…" Her expression then became thoughtful as she grabbed another plate for herself… though this time making sure to not put quite so much on her own plate.

"…I gotta admit, this is wild too, seeing all the different Fankids and all. I guess I just never really considered what, if any of my dads' friends had kids?" Her tail twitched as she pondered the idea.

"What about you, Starlis? Got any siblings?" Shade asked before taking a bite out of some chicken.

"Nope!" Starlis replied, shaking her head as she chewed on one of the kabobs. "It's just me. You?"

"Yep, I have four younger brothers and sisters, two boys, two girls." She said with a slight giggle in her tone, "The younger two are twins and can be quite a handful, but they're still adorable."

Starlis couldn't help but smile at the thought of that, thinking back on some of the antics she and Zia had gotten into when they were kids… "Well, I have two kinda cousins/friends? There's Zia De Sol, who's Auntie Blaze and Amy's kid." She mused, thinking about how much her own girlfriend had changed over the years.

"Then there's Robin, Auntie Rouge and Wave's adopted daughter," Starlis explained, grabbing a soda from a nearby cooler with her tail before flicking it up and behind her so she could catch it. Popping the tab, she took a long sip while Shade gaped at her for a brief moment.

"That was cool as fuck." Shade said, her third eye just blinking along with her normal ones.

"Heh, thanks. It took ages to figure it all out." Starlis said with a grin. "I don't get to use it much, but it comes in handy sometimes…" Her gaze moved over towards the crowd, eyes moving over each of them carefully before she turned back to face Shade. "Anyways, what about you?"

"I got some cousins and uncles and aunties too," Shade said, thinking fondly of them all, "Some I see often, others not so much.”

Starlis nodded and thought for a moment. What could she do to continue this conversation? This was actually going well! She hadn't messed up beyond dropping her plate, and even then, she'd met someone new!

"…So what do you do, you know, outside of all this?" Starlis asked curiously as she adjusted her glasses. They were starting to slip down her muzzle a tad, and she didn't want them falling off.

"Well… I'm still in high school…" Shade started, but Starlis interrupted her, "High school?!?! I thought… Oh… well, I figured with your height…" Shade shrugged her shoulders with an understanding smile. It wasn't like she wasn't used to the whole age thing. She's gotten it a lot of times before. "It's fine. It's not the first time I've gotten that question. Also, I do music in my spare time."

"Oh, cool!" Starlis replied with a nod as she glanced around. She noticed a few other dark-furred fankids drifting towards a darkened corner of the cafeteria and sighed. "Welp… I guess we can't escape the fellow edgy goth kids, even here…"

Shade laughed as her third eye moved to watch them. "No one ever is" she said as she grabbed some more food off the table.

For the next hour, Shade and Starlis were still talking and getting along rather nicely. The two quickly joined the 'Shadow Collective' as someone dubbed it in the corner. Starlis made a note to tell her Baba that his DNA apparently had an unusually strong tendency to produce 'edge'.

It was actually kinda fun! The conversations were animated, and she'd already gotten a few new numbers out of it… including Shade's. She couldn't help but feel relaxed around these people- they felt familiar in many ways. Not like her friends or the family, but just familiar in ways that seemed almost instinctual…

"So then Roxie goes-" Shade was regaling Starlis with a tale of her girlfriend after a platypus girl who had joined the corner, had gotten grumpy when Starlis didn't recognize the name of 'Doctor Starline', which had evolved from that to someone named 'Surge the Tenrec' (After Starlis heard what this Starline had done to her, Starlis swore to shoot him somewhere painful if they ever met in her world. Elsewhere a certain platypus crossed his legs instinctively.) to gushing about their girlfriends. Shade had just been getting to the good part when a loud voice broke across the cafeteria.

"Well, folks, I'm glad everyone's enjoying themselves here so far! But now it's time for some announcements." The host quokka called out from his position at the podium, getting everyone's attention.

"Oh? Hm, well, might as well pay attention…" Starlis mumbled quietly, looking at Barry. "Wonder what the deal is?"

"Okay, okay, so we're going to start with our first vote bracket!" Barry announced as a holographic projection appeared behind him. It was… a bracket. A bracket that looked almost like those March Madness brackets she and Zia had seen back on TV. Only this was different: This one was titled 'SONIC FANKID SHOWDOWN'.

"We will now start drawing names!" the red Quokka sing-songed cheerfully, "I hope you guys are all ready to show off your talents!" The crowd started muttering in an anticipatory tone. Starlis could only think of one thing.

Oh shit.

"So, how does the big battle royale work anyway?" Starlis asked as she eyed the stage nervously. She had never really been around crowds this large before… not without Zia nearby.

She glanced at Shade out of her peripheral vision, who shrugged, "Never been to one. Got the email, and I figured, why not? It sounds interesting at least."

"Fair enough," Starlis replied quietly, taking a deep breath. She was gonna need to calm down a bit. After all, it's not like this would be too stressful- just some quick introductions, and maybe a little showing-off…

"Hey, look on the bright side, it'll make a cool story for your friends back home," Shade said.

"Oh, I don't know how, but Zia snuck backstage this afternoon. She said something about 'giving moral support', and I can't say no to her…" Starlis replied with an awkward smile. "Ah, girlfriends, am I right?" Shade laughed. Starlis was still surprised that she was a year younger than her, but she seemed much more put together than her.

Shade nodded, then looked back up at the stage where the Quokka was drawing balls and dropping them in a lottery ball machine, which began to tumble them, "Well, all the balls are in the air and… here. we. GO!" Starlis watched as the formerly tumbling balls fell to the bottom before being sucked into little tubes, separating the balls into pairs "The first bracket will be… Stake VS Harlo Robotnik!"

Shade tuned out a bit after a few people were picked. She knew she was probably gonna be one of them soon, but until then, there really wasn't much she could do other than talk with some others. Her third eye looked over at the refreshment table again, looking over all the food still there. 'Hmmm, should get some more of those cheesy puffs or whatever they are. They were sooooo good!' Shade thought happily. An elbow to her knee snapped her out of her thoughts about the food, "-e the Hedgehog vs. Starlis Maria Hedgehog!"

Shade's ears shot up as well as Starlis's own as they both looked at the stage where their photos and names had appeared. "Ohhhhhh fudge…" Shade heard Starlis mutter under her breath.

Starlis gulped nervously, looking at her new friend turned opponent. Shade looked… calm? Yeah, that was it, she looked calm. The taller hybrid couldn't help but smile at Starlis, though, as if to reassure the shorter hedgehog girl. Shade gave her a friendly nod of acknowledgement. "Hey, let's give these guys a show, alright? No hard feelings?" she said with a warm tone.

Starlis could only give her friend an uneasy smile back at the reassuring words, but when Shade extended her hand, she took it in her own with a firm grip. She didn't want to disappoint Zia, or anyone else for that matter… But this? This sucked. It felt like all her confidence left her body in one fell swoop. 'Ughhhhh…. why me?' Starlis thought with a grimace as they walked onstage together. Starlis still wasn't sure how exactly she would handle this situation… What was there really to do? Her eyes scanned over the large sign hanging above them, displaying pictures of everyone participating today alongside each pairing number and name combination listed below them on a screen mounted next to it.

"Well, I hope everyone is excited to see this Showdown, Everyone! Don't forget, the competition starts in 2 days, so the training rooms are open 8 am to 8 pm. See you guys soon!" Barry announced cheerfully from his position near the center stage before he stepped away from his microphone stand, disappearing backstage.

Author's note: While I'm not an artist like most of you folks (looks at everyone's awesome art) I like to think I'm an ok writer! So if anyone wants some written stuff done, I'm your dragon! Characters mentioned: Starlis M. Hedgehog (@dragolord19delta) (Night)Shade the Hedgehog by @sonnewolfie009) Who I wrote this for! Stake (by @thefantasylife8) Harlo Robotnik (by @xinnamonbun and @halastar05) Esme Starline (by @mischeva)

[yukidragon]

Sunshine in Hell Height Headcanons

It's June 15, which as many of you know from this official profile, that it's Sunny Day Jack's birthday today!

You might also know that it's [Redacted]'s birthday thanks to this ominous picture Sauce shared last year on this day. Funny how these two totally distinct characters share a birthday isn't it? 🤔

Anyway, I was hoping to have written something for this year to celebrate, but like last year my spoons are way too few and far between. I was also hoping to do something self-indulgent for my own birthday, but same lack of spoons halted me there too.

So, until I can stock up on more metaphorical utensils to help me do the stuff I feel like doing, I'm going to celebrate by rambling a little bit about some headcanon details.

Sunshine in Hell differs from the game demos in a number of ways, and one of them is Jack's height. As you might've seen from the profile link, Jack is canonically 6'2", but in my personal headcanon continuity, I decided to make the gentle giant quite a bit taller than that. Because it amuses me, and I struggle with imagining Jack as shorter than Cove Holden.

When deciding how tall to make Jack in my stories, I also decided to do a height chart for him and a few other characters as well. It helps to better imagine characters interacting when you can see how tall they are compared to others.

Yes, I threw in a few extra love interests to the mix, as well as a couple other MCs. I was curious to see how tall Alice would be compared to her sisters, and I had to throw in their love interests as well.

As an aside, it tickles me that even after I made Jack significantly taller, he's shorter than Bo's horny "Feed Me" form.

For those of you that need the conversion from centimeters to feet and inches, or have trouble reading the image, I'll write them down for easy reference.

Alice: 162 cm / 5'4"

Jack: 198 cm / 6'6"

Shaun: 178 cm / 5'10"

Nick: 173 cm / 5'8"

Ian: 170 cm / 5'7"

Bo: 180 cm / 5'11"

Barbie: 184 cm / 6'0"

Bo "Feed Me" form: 216 cm / 7'1"

Elias: 185 cm / 6'1"

Coraline: 172 cm / 5'8"

As you can see, Shaun, Nick, and Ian stuck with the canon heights in their profiles. It's just Jack who got a height increase because it's what I imagined his height to be from the start, and Sunshine in Hell is basically my headcanons that diverge from the game's canon, so I do what I want. It's also fun to imagine scary yandere Jack towering over every single one of the love interests. It adds to the intimidation factor too despite his gentle giant persona.

Bo and Elias don't have canon heights like the SDJ love interests, so I mostly just did whatever felt right to me for them. Bo's regular height was influenced by the mafia AU picture Sauce drew. It served as a very good height comparison chart all on its own. As you can see, Bo is just tall enough to reach Jack's smile if you don't count the ears and poofy hair.

All credit to the awesome Sauce for their lovely art of course and for feeding my headcanons. As always, I want to link to the SnaccPop Patreon as gratitude for being cool with me using their art in my posts. If you're a a free or paying member, consider checking out an important survey that went up to help guide the team in their future endeavors.

Bo looks so short compared to Jack, doesn't he? In my headcanon land, it's just a matter of perspective, and next to other people Bo is pretty darn tall. Though he's just one teeny tiny inch shorter than his puppy.

You bet your sweet bippy Barbie takes smug satisfaction in that one inch height superiority. Bo talks so big as a big bad alpha dog, but the puppy he's trying to dominate is just a bit bigger and badder than he ever expected.

Of course, Bo gets to turn it right back around on Barbie with his monster sized "Feed Me" form. Like werewolves that become huge compared to their human selves, when Bo's inner beast comes out to play, he adds on quite a lot of height and muscle. He towers over even Jack! Still, even when super sized, he's no match for Barbie.

As you can see, despite being the eldest child, Alice is shorter than her two younger sisters, especially Barbie! They got more of their dad's height genes, while Alice took more after their mom in that department. Barbie and Coraline are quite a bit taller than average, a fact that Barbie revels in, and Coraline can find a little awkward sometimes, especially during moments of weakness. It can be hard to help someone stand back up and walk when they're much taller than you are after all. It leads to some embarrassing moments for poor Coraline.

On that same note of surprisingly tall people with chronic illnesses, I thought it would be interesting if Elias would have been a very tall man if not for his illness. There's no canon height for him and he's floating with Jack and Bo in the Christmas picture, so it's hard to go with a comparative height. So, I went with what felt narratively interesting to me. With his legs being twisted, and him being hunched over with a cane, he probably appeared shorter than he actually was. It's hard to see his exact height with his lower half ghostly and indistinct as well. It's only when he actually bothers to give himself legs and stand with both feet planted firmly on the ground that he can show off just how tall he really is.

While I'm on the topic of height, I wonder if one of Ian's insecurities was his height. Some men have issues if they're shorter than their peers, and Ian is the shortest of the love interests. I can imagine it certainly didn't help if he was bullied for being short along with his general "nerdy" appearance back in school.

Still, Ian has nothing to complain about at the height he's at as a fully grown adult. Even if the other love interests are taller than he is, Ian is still above average for men in the US. He's just got the misfortune of being the shortest guy in a group of very tall people. At least he doesn't have to worry about taking the bottom spot in the height chart like Alice.

Yes, Alice is a bit self-conscious about being so short compared to her peers, even if technically she's also above average height for a woman in the US. She feels especially tiny when standing next to Jack.

Though, admittedly, Alice does find it very nice to feel tiny and delicate when Jack sweeps her up into his arms. It makes her feel less self-conscious about how chubby she is when her big strong giant of a boyfriend can carry her around so easily. Once she gets over the initial fear that he might drop her, she'll soon look forward to being whisked away by her silly clown.

Oh, and if you're wondering about Mary's height... I'm still debating if I want her to be around Alice's height or a little taller. She had the same eye color in both lives due to the eyes being windows to the soul, but there were other physical differences due to different parents introducing different genetics. I need to ruminate on that fine of detail more and see what feels more interesting to me narratively.

Though even if Mary was as tall as Barbie, she'll still be short enough for Joseph to sweep into her arms since he's just as much of a giant now as he was then. Not that it would stop him from trying even if his sunshine was bigger than him. Nothing will stop Joseph/Jack from showing his love for his sunshine!

I think I'll wrap things up on that fluffy note. I hope y'all enjoyed me going off on a headcanon ramble after such a long time. With any luck, I'll be able to get to answering some asks soon. Thanks for reading!

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

[nohoperadio]

What do I want to read? This is the question @perdvivly asks us to consider in a recent book meme thing. This is not something I'm very orderly about most of the time, I don't really have a list (untrue but we'll get to that) I just possess a lot of unread books always and when I finish one I just kinda look around and see what seems good. I guess I'll be doing the post version of that here. I might not end up with 10 categories and they might not all be proper categories, dunno let's see what happens! Stuff I want to read in 2025:

Three English women I've mostly read and need to finish off who have not a ton else in common

So obviously we have Iris Murdoch, whose novels I've been deliberately rationing at 1-2 per year for the past 15 years; currently at 21 out of 26 read. I'm not gonna finish them all this year but I am thinking of picking up the pace a little bit, it would be embarrassing to die or something without getting to the end, the above numbers don't even include the philosophy and other bits that I intend to get to too, and I mean I'm obviously just going to keep rereading one or two per year for the rest of my life anyway so the sense of "oh no there'll be no more left" is maybe a little silly? Like it's cute that I've made her last this long but come on. Anyway I love her I love her I love her I love her.

There's less Jane Austen to get through, I read Northanger Abbey in January thus finishing the novels so it's just the incomplete Sanditon and then the juvenilia so I can say I've read all of her. Looking forward to seeing her get silly with it in some of this stuff. Oh and maybe there's some letters but I don't think very many?

And Virginia Woolf, again already finished all the novels as of this year but then there's--well there's a lot, I'll obviously finish the short stories soon but there's a lot of essays and stuff and I'll have to play by ear how deep I want to go there, I read vol 1 (of 6) of her diaries a while back and it was like half-fascinating half-boring, which I guess is the best we can hope for from unedited diaries... I possess the second vol but we'll see, we'll see. Do I care about her book on Roger Fry? Who knows. I wanna read Hermione Lee's biography of her too, I read the one by Quentin Bell (her nephew) which was pretty entertaining but I want to read a proper one too.

It's weird I'm pretty obsessed with her but like, you have to really get on her wavelength to actually enjoy her fiction ime, and getting on her wavelength is a mental trick I'm... kind of mid at? Like when I do fall under her spell it's like nothing else, you can really get swept up in her evident sincere conviction that every single thing that happens to everyone is intrinsically fascinating, but when the spell fails to work, I can't lie to you, it can be pretty boring? But I keep coming back to her because I crave the magic and probably always will.

(A year ago on this very tumblr I linked one of her (actually pretty unWoolfian!) stories and two people actually read it and liked it and that felt really good. If anyone's reading this please check it out and tell me what you think and I will give you. A little kiss.)

17th century British history

Fuck I gotta make these shorter than that. Alright well I've never really been a history reader tbh but I've randomly become a bit fascinated with the period around the civil wars and I'm seeing how far I can ride this, aside from like wikipedia and podcasts I've read Jonathan Healey's The Blazing World (which is kinda bleh, pretty loose narrative that often is just jumping around various anecdotes and quite shallow-feeling analysis), started Blair Worden's The English Civil Wars (much much better so far! It's short but feels way more grownup and less documentaryish). Have also bought but not started The Noble Revolt by John Adamson, intimidatingly long but highly regarded, and then for a primary source I have my eye on Edward Hyde's History of the Rebellion, written by Charles I's chief advisor and supposed to be fun... yeah we'll see how all this goes.

All this fucking poetry I have

I had to ban myself from buying poetry a long time ago because I kept falling in love with volumes in the bookshop and then when I get them home I just can't get it up for them somehow. I know I can like poetry because I can tell you poems I love but they're always isolated encounters, somehow sitting down with a book of poetry and spending real time with it is, not a thing I can really do? Or not a thing I can do on purpose very often. But like I don't believe that's my heart, this feels like it should be a solvable problem. So this section represents, I suppose, an intention to have another stab at solving it. Oh I guess I should mention some actual books right? Well this here anthology of Metaphysical Poetry is surely a promising start because the metaphysicals are clever and I value cheap cleverness extremely highly. Don Paterson's collection Rain is one I did actually succeed in getting deep into back in the day so perhaps I'll try his 40 Sonnets which I have here, a lot of it looks annoyingly avant-garde though (wrong type of clever). Two of my favourite bands have written songs about John Berryman which is probably as good a reason as any to pick up The Dream Songs. TS Eliot because I still know the first couple pages of Prufrock off by heart although I couldn't really get a handle on The Waste Land.

Muriel Spark too! Fun fact one of my earliest original posts on this account was just me posting a Muriel Spark poem I really loved and it didn't get any notes, go read it and give it some notes. I will give you a little kiss.

Phenomenology?

Okay this one is like, I'd be pretty surprised if it happens in a big way this year. Sad as fuck to say but I'm not sure the version of me that has a full time job is capable of accessing the requisite levels of not-being-tired to read long dense philosophy tomes, but I mean it's not like I've really tried lately. When I was a teen I started-didn't-finish all three of Being and Nothingness, Being and Time and The Phenomenology of Perception, and while they did technically defeat me this stuff was what convinced me philosophy was important, it's still really the only philosophy I've ever read whose value really seems beyond question. I've never really touched Husserl but at some point last year I impulse bought Ideas so clearly some part of me wants to do it. I don't know man! Maybe.

I want good nature writing to exist

This one is mostly not about specific books and is more of a cry for help, I ranted in the tags of this post about how frequently nature writing seems to go out of its way to like, be about anything other than nature? And I know it can't all be like that but I've been burnt a lot of times... I guess I've had more luck with the ones that are more pop sci branded than "nature writing" branded so maybe that's the way to go. But yeah if anyone has any recs for who is the anti-Helen MacDonald please do let me know.

Should I start reading the cool kid books?

In a way, I work in a bookshop, and I hope to keep doing that actually, so it might be professionally prudent to know something about like RF Kuang or Sally Rooney or whoever the fuck. However, I don't really care. So it's a dilemma!

I want to re-read Claire-Louise Bennett,

which might actually be doable this year because it's only two books and they're not very long or slow, but fuck she's good. The only really recent author I truly love I think? If I were asked to write a quippy quote to go on the back of her books I'd say she was equal parts Woolf and Tristram Shandy and then they wouldn't use my quote. I quoted Pond at some length in this post, I actually think Checkout 19 is probably better but there's not much between them. If you go with Pond don't be put off by the prose-poem shorts, I can take/leave 'em they're not really representative of the rest.

Weird depressed Europeans who go on about stuff too much

Some years ago I walked into the bookshop that would eventually become my workplace in a mood to find something totally new-to-me and fall in love with it, I came across Laszlo Krasznahorkai and something about War and War really grabbed me and for some reason (apparently about a guy whose suicide plans are interrupted by his randomly discovering an unknown ancient epic and his felt duty to make sure it's preserved? Sounds cool right) I bought everything they had by him (four books). And for some reason I started reading The Melancholy of Resistance instead of that one, a very unhinged and sprawling philosophical novel with no paragraph breaks that was hard-going but compelling, then I lost the book halfway through. Months later I found it again but by then I had gotten too sad about it and it's not the kind of book you can really dip back into after a long absence so like, that was kind of the end of my Krasznahorkai thing. Well I'd like to try again. And I want to start with War and War this time since that was clearly what fate intended in the first place.

The other guy in this category is Knausgaard, who I feel like I don't gotta talk about as much cos everyone has already heard about how great he's supposed to be, I read the first volume of his struggle and yeah it's pretty great. Wanna get to the second vol soon.

I want to start writing in my diary again

I'm a firm believer that every list should contain at least one item that doesn't belong on the list, so: I've proven that keeping a regular daily diary is something I can keep up for at least like a three-month continuous period, I proved it last year. If I can keep it up for three months then I can keep it up forever, right? Three months is a long time, it's like a small forever. And there's a lot of reasons why "a few words per day of record-keeping/minor self-expression that no one gets to look at" is a really useful thing for me to have, but after that initial run got derailed I never managed to get it back for more than brief episodes. Well, I hope it wasn't a fluke and I hope I can find my way back into it this year.

Oh I don't know, maybe my actual fucking list of books I want to read that I actually supposedly have? Hmm what about that? What about that maybe

So I do have a goodreads (Viv I want to be your goodreads friend but last time I looked through my read shelves like a ton of the ratings made no sense to me and I'm just kind of embarrassed by it, I've been planning to start a fresh account for a while, when I get around to that I shall add you; it looks like you went through a similar thing so I trust you understand!), and I do add stuff to the Want to Read list on there occasionally. I never look at this list, so it serves no purpose at all. I'm looking at it now and I don't even know what half this stuff is. Like wtf is South Wind by Norman Douglas, with only 314 ratings? I'm sure I've never seen this book in my entire life. Who is Witold Gombrowicz? I recognize Elias Canetti as the name of a guy who might have slept with Iris Murdoch I think but that doesn't seem like a good reason to want to read him. Yeah this is a completely useless list and I will continue to never look at it. Oh sometimes at work I take photos of books that momentarily catch my interest, and those photos are like, another one of this.

---

Okay that's ten! Hey Viv this was actually a lot of fun thank you for tagging me, I'm not really proofreading it because it's too late so uh, sorry about how it is. Everyone else, obviously I'd enjoy seeing you talk about books if we're mutuals, I hate tagging people but I'll do some anyway: @lloke @medlinka @autogeneity @jerkeline @robustcornhusk @wellmetmat @abodywithorgans, if I didn't mention you you should take it as a calculated insult obviously

[sv5hive]

womaniser | jb22

pairing: jenson button x fempopstar!reader, brief mark webber appearance

content warning(s): swearing, mentions of drinking, use of y/n, inaccurate information about the monaco paddock/circuit, suggestive champagne drinking(?)

word count: 1,771

note: first of all, thank you for all the notes on my lewis fic i'm absolutely blown away 😭🫶🏻 secondly, first fic featuring mr. playboy himself! i hope you enjoy this one bcos i had so much fun writing it 🩷

(masterlist!)

you gawked at the herds of people waiting for your arrival at the entrance of the paddock from behind your sunglasses. even after years of being in the limelight, you still weren't used to all the attention.

somehow, news had leaked that you would be attending the monaco grand prix this year, which meant that you had to cover yourself in team gear (that your manager had fortunately brought to your hotel room the night before) from head to toe and walk in with the other team members rather than make a glamorous entrance in a far too revealing outfit like you usually did.

not that you were complaining. your manager would have your head if you caused any more chaos especially after your recent stunt during some after party which involved a bit too much drinking and dancing for the public's liking. apparently people didn't think three awards was something to celebrate with several rounds of shots.

"over there!"

shit.

despite your best efforts to remain incognito, it seemed you were identifiable even while wearing the slightly grim team uniform you wouldn't be caught dead in if it were under normal circumstances.

in a split second decision you made a run for it, hoping to evade any and all slightly deranged fans who might cause mayhem if they managed to reach you. stifling a giggle, you sprinted down the road without sparing a single thought about how odd it looked to everyone else around. you were suddenly grateful for the fact that you were wearing attire suitable for an unexpected, albeit thrilling, getaway.

yep. your manager is definitely going to give you an earful when you get back.

after what felt like an eternity of running, you ducked in between two motor homes to try and catch your breath while also staying hidden. you were so preoccupied with your own endeavours that you hadn't noticed the two men who were once engaged in their own conversation, now ogling at you.

just your luck. were they fans too? god, when were you going to catch a break?

"sorry, i can't sign anything or take any pictures right now. thanks for your support though." you muttered, finally managing to get out your pr approved message while leaning against the wall.

you promptly figured out that you had obviously said something wrong by the sight of a growing smile on the slightly shorter, blond man. looking closer at his chest, you recognised the same brawn gp logo that you were currently wearing stitched onto his racesuit.

fuck.

you looked to the dark haired man on his right who still looked confused at your random appearance. as you moved your gaze down from his face, you then noticed the red bull racing logo on his racesuit.

double fuck. but of course it was your luck to run into the drivers and embarrass yourself!

"shit. ok, wait, hang on. sorry about that. i'm not actually like that, i swear. i'm just trying not to make my manager any angrier at me than she already is." you managed to huff out.

"no worries, take your time."

thankfully, the blond man could see that you were still desperately trying to get air in your lungs and graciously gave you time to recover.

"erm, sorry, can we start over? i'm y/n l/n, nice to meet you."

you moved forward to shake both of their hands.

"jenson button, it's a pleasure. although i feel like i've already met you the amount of times you've been in the headlines."

you almost lost all your breath again as he maintained perfect eye contact while shaking your hand. you grimaced at the reminder of the mischief that you had been known for since the beginning of your career.

is this the regret that your manager was talking about during one of her lectures?

"mark webber, nice to meet you too. so, what was that all about?"

the brunet man, mark as you had just learnt, finally snapped out of his daze as he lightly shook your hand.

"oh, that? it's not a big deal, just some fans who wanted to meet me. i mean i appreciate them and i'm sure they have good intentions but it's a little scary to have a horde of people chasing you. you understand, right?"

jenson's shit-eating grin grew impossibly bigger and it was starting to get on your nerves. and this intense staring contest he had initiated didn't help.

what was his problem?

"yeah, i guess? something tells me you get recognised a lot more often than we do."

you nodded at mark's response without even giving him as much as a glance. if it weren't for the fact that you refused to lose the unofficial staring contest, you might have felt bad for practically ignoring him.

mark looked between you two and made the sensible decision to not get involved in whatever the hell was going on.

"uh, i'm gonna go get ready. see you out there, mate."

"yeah sure, see you later."

and just like that, you were alone with jenson.

"so, what's the world's biggest pop star doing at a formula 1 race?"

your face warmed at the compliment from the man who was becoming more and more attractive as time went on.

"thanks. my friend was meant to be here but something came up and she gave me her pass. i don't know anything about racing but i've heard the after parties are good. is that right?"

"good? they're better than good. they're the best parties in the world."

you raised an eyebrow at his declaration. you had been to more after parties than you could care to remember and you heavily doubted that they could be topped. sensing your uncertainty, jenson made an offer.

"tell you what. if i win the race today, you have to let me take you out to celebrate. i'll even let you watch the race from my garage."

he was on pole position and it was almost impossible to overtake at monaco. but you didn't have to know that.

you did need somewhere safe to watch from. and who knows? maybe celebrating with him could be fun.

"and what if you don't win?"

"don't worry about that, sweetheart. i'll win it just for you." he replied shooting you a wink.

jesus, was he trying to make you pass out?

"well if you're so confident then sure."

"great. let me take you to our garage. don't worry, your fans won't be able to get in there. although i can't promise that some of the team won't ask you for pictures."

"as long as they don't try and trample me i think i'll be fine!"

laughing along with him to the garage, both of you failed to notice the cameras pointed at you, broadcasting your interaction to live television.

almost two hours had passed by now and you were anxiously waiting for jenson to cross the line in first place. you didn't think watching race cars go round in circles could ever be so exciting but your mind had been undoubtedly changed after today. jenson had just begun his final lap around the prestigious circuit when the mechanics started leaving the garage. through all the emotion no one had bothered to tell you what was happening so you just rushed outside with them.

eventually you managed to push your way to the front of the crowd and rested against the wall facing the number boards waiting for the top 3 drivers arrival.

"where's jenson?" you turned to the mechanic on your right after the second and third drivers, who you found out were rubens barrichello and kimi räikkönen, parked their cars behind their respective number boards while jenson was nowhere to be found.

you soon got your answer once you saw him round the corner on foot.

"looks like he got lost!" joked the same mechanic on your right.

you shook your head and chuckled at the absurdity of a professional racing driver getting lost at a track he's driven at several times before. in the end he managed to get to the podium to raise his trophy and celebrate with his teammate.

a serene smile fell on his face as the british national anthem played for him for the fifth time that season. slowly but surely his claim to the 2009 title was becoming stronger and stronger.

as his eyes fell on his team he picked out your face in the sea of people. acting solely on impulse, he blew a kiss towards you ultimately causing an echo of wolf whistles. you made a motion as if to catch the kiss and slip it into the pocket of your jeans, saving it for later.

it would just be rude to leave the man hanging after he had let you stay in his garage. it definitely was not because he was charming your socks off.

shortly after the podium ceremony, he made his way towards the wall you were stood against. joining in with everyone else, you applauded him as he walked up. you let him celebrate with the people who had made the win possible before he finally reached you.

"congratulations, jense! you were incredible!"

"thank you, darling! would you like to try some of this champagne? might not be as good as some of the stuff you've had but i like to think victory makes it taste sweeter."

you smirked at the thought.

"if you insist." came your reply before you tilted your head back and opened your mouth to let him pour the champagne in.

for the first time since you had met him, he was speechless. snapping out of it, he poured the champagne into your mouth and the cheers seemed to become deafening. you tapped his chest to signal him to stop and wiped your mouth with your sleeve.

"you were right. victory does make it sweeter."

you mirrored the grin on his face as the celebrations almost faded away into the background. you two must have had the same thought in that moment because before you knew it, you were kissing each other as if there weren't dozens of cameras being shoved in your faces.

once again, you were breathless as you pulled away.

"i know i owe you a proper celebration, but how about dinner? just us two?"

your cheeks were starting to hurt from the permanent grin on your face now.

"sounds like a proper celebration to me."

your manager was definitely going to kill you now. but you couldn't care less; you had a dinner date with jenson button.

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Chapter Sixteen

Parings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word count; 4.1k

Themes; isekai, eventual smut (slowburn), Canon divergence (wanted to add this)

Warnings; 18+ for swearing and some mature content, a teeny tiny bit of angst

Notes; I decided to post sixteen since I'm really excited for it and I'm currently working on chapter twenty-two! I think I'm going to convert back to shorter chapters in my later entries (like 3k-4k) instead of trying to fit 6-9k in one chapter. But this is a long one! I did re-look it over, but if there are any spelling errors and what not– Just know that I tried my best! 🩷

Also, believe me, I want to put smut as soon as possible, but I should probably mark this as a slow burn tbh. Especially since there's still no smut at chapter 22–

Prev || Next

Masterlist

Sylus, amidst the raging storm, remains nonchalant as he sits next to you. The racing vehicle leaves your enemies behind in the dust while intermittent light seeps through the window to obscure his silhouette and his goals. You never held onto the naive notion that Sylus assisted you in acquiring the aether core just so he could clean house. This kind of deal would result in him suffering a major loss, and it’s clear he’s anything but an ignorant businessman. Though that leads you to speculate…what exactly is his true motive?

For a moment, his expression as he gazed at the Deepspace Tunnel resurfaced in your mind. Then, you feel a growing pain in your palm. You’re still clutching the fragmented protocore, its jagged edge digging into your skin. It’s as if you’re subconsciously grasping onto an answer that has yet to be revealed. The linkage between your wrist and Sylus’ suddenly flickers, seemingly sensing the swirling thoughts in your head.

Then, your phone rings. You notice it’s Luke, one of the twins, calling so you answer with your cuffed hand and put it on speaker phone for Sylus to listen in, since he’s cleaning one of his guns.

“We heard you and boss took care of the traitors and thieves,” You hear Luke say and then, like clockwork, Kieran chimes in, “You even destroyed the aether core together! Good job!” You hear Sylus scoff across from you and you look in his direction, surprised to see a faint smile on his lips. “Just calling to let you know that we cleaned up at the Nest. No one will be causing trouble for you anymore,” Luke chirps. 

“Huh? When did..?” You murmur. “Our boss told us to do it. While he looks mean, he’s actually–” Kieran is cut off by Sylus, “See you later.”

“Oh, boss! I didn’t mean to–”

You hang up on Kieran before he can dig himself an even deeper grave. “So..What’s your plan?” You ask, keeping your linked arm close to him. “Chop it off.” He answers rather quickly and your eyes widen. “But it seems to be some kind of energy linkage. Can I even physically attack it?” You ask, confused. Sylus sighs and shakes his head, “I was talking about your hand.”

“Huh–” “Or you can also settle down in the N109 Zone. I have more than enough time to solve this problem with you,” He looks over at you as he leans back against the wall. “No thanks. Let’s use a more efficient approach.” You press your lips together in a forced smile and Sylus lazily drawls, “Let’s destroy the aether core in your body.”

He holds the gun up and you raise a brow, “You’re saying our aether cores created this link? Okay, why don’t we destroy yours then?” Sylus almost seems like he’s pouting before he looks down, “Nevermind. With your current level of resonance, it won’t last long.” “But before I started resonating with you, I saw a strange vision,” You say with a sigh, finally deciding to bring up something that’s been bothering you.

“It’s not a big deal. From now on, you’ll be seeing more things like that.” He says casually and your brows furrow. You sure hope not. You almost confused the vision for reality so if you get anymore, you might actually have a panic attack.

“So that...was real?” You clear your throat, trying to get more information. This must have something to do with past lives, especially since you know you share a past life with the other three love interests– well, not you but the original protagonist. “If I say yes, will you give me a sincere apology?” Sylus seems to be casually skirting past any questions you throw out, just like the other love interests would.

“Y/n, this world is different from what you see. But I’m not in the mood to tell stories at the moment.” 

As he says this, he uses his evol to take your brooch from you, holding it in between his fingers. “You should think about your next move after leaving the N109 Zone.” He holds the brooch back out to you, “And don’t forget our deal.” You take the brooch back, feeling a bit cold in your dress and Sylus sets his coat over your lap.

“Then, you should make sure I can leave safely. How about escorting me tomorrow?” Your hands subconsciously grip his coat on your lap, worried he’ll say no.

“The outside world is more dangerous now.” Well, he didn’t say no, so he’ll probably leave with you. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll be careful,” You sigh, looking down at the coat in your lap before your gaze leads your eyes back up to his face.

“In any case, until the resonance issue is fixed, we’ll be meeting more often in the future.” Is all he says, and then the car ride back to his place is as silent as ever. Your eyes slowly close and you find yourself unable to stay awake…You fall asleep with more questions and no answers.

The next time you open your eyes, you find yourself in an unfamiliar, yet oddly familiar, place. A classroom? Though, you soon realize that you have no control over your actions. Your body follows through with whatever, as if this were a stage play. The only form of autonomy you have is your thoughts.

Your gaze drifts across the classroom before landing on a familiar silvery-blond haired man. Though before this, you pretend to look at the clock on the classroom wall so you’re not blatantly staring at him. Then, your gaze can slowly drift to his face. You have to calm down your beating heart and do your best to avoid his eyes, if and when he looks back in your direction. Otherwise, you’ll be caught red-handed.

Pretending to be nonchalant, you shift your gaze away from those tranquil eyes and turn around. According to the First Law of Cosmic Attraction, when a person unwittingly looks at someone, there’s a 98.8% chance it’s because he’s looking at you too. Perhaps you caught him red-handed as he stared at you.

What is going on? Why is Xavier here? What is this memory? Or…is it all a weird dream?

It’s not a dream. Definitely not, as unfamiliar memories fill your head and overwhelm you. Three years ago, when Xavier first arrived at the academy, it was a rare sunny day. It was the Year 214. Two hundred and fourteen years have passed since Philos’– Philos?– birth. It also means 214 years have passed since Earth’s demise. 

What? 

Your teachers, born during the Age  of Earth, said the people of Philos had substituted Earth’s extinguished core with a powerful, artificial one. This core holds fragmented land masses together, preventing them from scattering into the starry sea. So aside from more dust, more cloudy days, and cumbersome travel between tectonic plates, your planet isn’t much different from the Earth of years past. Your feet have never touched the soil of other places on Philos. Since your evol manifested early on in life, the academy is all you’ve ever known.

Also, unlike everyone else who were brought here after their evol awakened, Xavier was a transfer student.

The memory of meeting Xavier for the first time suddenly flashes before your eyes. It was a sunny day. He was tall, skinny, and wearing the white school uniform. His eyes were a shade of light blue, as pretty as the sky that day. He enters the classroom with a wooden sword strapped to his back and glances at the seating chart, then walks to the last row by the window and sits down without a word. Serene and precise like light itself.

Other than “thank you” and “excuse me”, the two of you barely talked. You only got to know him through your classmates’ words. He didn’t live on campus because his family background was complicated and he was always surrounded by bodyguards. The rumors got even more outrageous and mysterious the more they were passed around. Yet the more enigmatic he is, the more curious you were about Xavier.

You knew this was just a memory, but you felt so immersed in it. It felt like you were actually living through it. As the dream went on, you were slowly losing touch on which reality was originally your own.

In this memory, you also realized that the you of the past (or perhaps the future?) had a crush on Xavier.

You always thought you and Xavier would continue like this, coexisting yet separated by a wall of mist but then…during your astronomy lecture, your teacher mentioned a once-in-a-century meteor shower happening next month. Seeing a meteor shower on a planet, where clear skies are a rarity…It’s even a once-in-a-century event. If you could see it with someone you like then…You could die without regrets. Die?...You were dying?

As you sat under the scorching sun with your wooden sword, you watched Xavier train and wondered how you were going to ask him. You write down what you’d say in the dirt with your sword-tip, knowing you’d forget immediately upon actually speaking with him.

People like Xavier…They’ll experience many centuries, so a once-in-a-century event probably won’t be that exciting for him…As long as Philos’ core still has energy, their lives shall last forevermore like the planet, but if he learns you’re a person who can’t even live to see 100 years, then maybe he’ll do anything you say out of pity. But that would ruin everything, you don’t want his pity.

Once class ends, you look for Xavier, noticing he’s gone before spotting him in the crowd by the academy gates. You hurry over and notice many bodyguards surrounding Xavier at a distance. They weren’t wearing black like a bodyguard were, but they exude an air of oppression. Xavier, who seems like he’s used to being stared at, actually appears slightly upset for once.

It’s completely different from how he was earlier– looking so tranquil with the sunset behind him. You knew absolutely nothing about him, but all you knew was he was not happy at the moment and you didn’t like that.

“Xavier!” You hear your voice shouting as loudly as you can. You were still terrified at the realization that you really couldn’t control yourself. You weren’t even sure how long you’d been asleep. Whether it’s been a few minutes, a few hours, days even. You hope it hasn’t been long. You didn't want to worry Sylus.

Xavier turns around with a slightly puzzled expression that softens when your eyes meet. You quickly walk up to him, saying a teacher requested his presence. Then, you grab his hand and start running in the opposite direction. As for where you were heading, you hadn’t thought that far yet. Even though you don’t see Xavier’s expression, you feel his grip on your hand gradually tighten.

“They’re catching up.” His voice scatters in the wind and while you’re dazed, he pulls you into a round tower and enters an empty auditorium. The lights are off and you both are like animals who escaped their enclosure, breathing heavily in the dark. Some time passes and Xavier pulls out a nearby chair and sits on another desk. You stare at him for a moment before realizing that he’s asking you to sit. “Why did you help me?” Sitting on the table, he’s taller than you by a considerable amount. His eyes, swirling light in their depths, look down at you in the dark.

“You…appeared to be upset, so I thought you wanted to be free.”

“How did you know I was upset?”

“Well…We’re classmates, aren’t we? It’s normal for me to be able to read your expression!” You try to find a way to explain yourself and Xavier speaks, “You learned by sneaking glances at me during class?”

“...There’s a reason for that!” Xavier looks at you as though he’s expecting an explanation. “I wanted to ask..Oh no, I mean, I wanted to invite you to watch the meteor shower at Skymirror Salt Flat with me. I heard the lake is really shallow so when light reflects on its surface, it’s exactly like a mirror. It’s going to look stunning with the meteor shower! Besides, a once-in-a-century thing…There won’t be another next time!” You find yourself rambling in nervousness.

“It’s just another hundred years.” 

“For you, maybe! But for me..”

“Huh?”

“It’s nothing…You’ll…Do you want to go or not? It’s truly pretty!” You took your chance to ask, but you’re met with silence. You could feel your heart plummeting to the ground with a heavy thud as Xavier’s gaze became distant. He only responds after some time has passed. “I can’t.”

“Is it…because of those people?”

Xavier appears to be shocked, then he nods without saying a word.

Xavier…You can be so cruel. You sigh internally and even though you know this isn’t you, you can’t help but also feel hurt. Your chest feels tight and, if you had control, you might’ve even teared up.

You watch as your hand reaches out and pokes the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be sad. I’ll just go by myself! I’ll...bring your wish with me to the stars when I do. What’s your wish?”

“I don’t have one.” His response is as quick as ever. “How could someone not wish for anything? Oh! Do you want me to make a wish for you?” You quickly rise up from the chair and face him.

Then, you close your eyes with your hands clasped in front of your chest and wish with all your heart. “I wish Xavier is forever free to do what he wants.” He’s stunned for a moment before asking, “What about you? What’s your wish?”

“I wish I could be healthy, but I don’t even know if wishing on a star actually works.” You sheepishly laugh, rubbing the back of your neck before the room goes silent. Though, you don’t open your eyes yet, waiting for the shooting star in your heart to pass before you open them.

Suddenly, a flash of light appears and you look around in confusion, only to see it’s actually coming  from Xavier’s hand. It gives an almost romantic feel in the dark.

“This shooting star has made a promise to you.”

After that day, you and Xavier had gotten much closer. Borderline friends even. You don’t have much interaction because of his bodyguards, but you do pass notes between each other during class and wave goodbye to him when he leaves. He’d sometimes poke you in the back to give you one of his earbuds, sharing his music taste with you. He even helped you clean up the classroom whenever you were caught passing notes with him and gave you an umbrella when you had forgotten yours.

You start to think maybe Xavier had a crush on you as well in this memory…

You also learn he’s been trained with his sword since he was little, he doesn’t exactly enjoy it, so it’s implied that he’s being forced to wield a sword just because he’s good at it. And as he’s about to bring up the meteor shower, his bodyguards stand in the way...

With a heavy heart, you think that if a wishing star does make your wish come true, then you wish you could be healthy. Then, you could wait another hundred years to watch the meteor shower with Xavier.

Then, the memory jumps to you laying in the nurse’s office with Xavier sitting next to the bed. It seems that whatever was wrong with your heart was getting worse.

You could hear the rattling of pills in a plastic bottle as Xavier shakes it in his hands, before setting it down on the table.

“How long were you going to hide this from me if you didn’t faint in class today?”

You don’t reply, trying your best to play dead. “Don’t pretend to be asleep. I know you’re awake.” His tone is soft, but it makes it all the more difficult to avoid him.

You decide to tell him everything that was wrong with you and then wait for him to say something.

 “What’s protocore syndrome?”

“It’s probably…a terminal illness that makes my heart weaker and weaker?”

“Is there no cure?”

“There is but…we need a special protocore.” You let out a heavy sigh, not wanting to say too much and burden Xavier. You have already given up in extending your life at this point.

“What kind?”

“They say there’s a protocore that can cure any illness…” You can tell Xavier is thinking too hard about it so you sigh, “Philos is huge. It will take ages to find it. Don’t worry. I’ll be alright for now because of this medicine…Besides, maybe a miracle might happen and I’ll be cured.”

Quietly, Xavier turns toward the window and then looks back at you, “Let’s watch the meteor shower together.”

You’re not sure how long the dream goes on. Months pass, seasons change and it’s late autumn now. You’re completely lost in this dream. Your heart restless and unsteady as you found it hard to sleep in this dream, going 24 hours without sleep at this point. It was driving you crazy. All of these feelings and you weren’t even sure which was truly your own anymore.

You board the train to Skymirror Salt Flat, getting off at your stop, and then you walk and go from a leisurely stroll to a sprint. Running across the moonlit slope and through the winding path, you finally see the mirror-like lake that’s akin to a shard of a dream. And standing in the center of the flat, underneath the still starry sky, is a familiar figure.

This is the first time you’ve seen Xavier without his uniform and his figure is perfectly illuminated by the moonlight. You hurry to him, stepping into the water that doesn’t even reach your ankles. Xavier turns toward you and grabs your hand unexpectedly, taking you to the trestle bridge to sit. You sit with one leg over the other, swinging them over the edge. Then, you quickly look around for his bodyguards, worried.

“You don’t have to check. They’re not here.”

“Truly? You got rid of them?”

“Yes.” But you notice his gaze is being a bit evasive after he says this. His eyes seem even brighter from the light reflected on the ground. “Why are you thinking about others when you requested I watch the meteor shower with you?”

Before you can answer, a star flies across the lake’s reflection. “It’s starting!” You both gaze up as the dark, inky sky was illuminated with clusters of stars and various colours. You clasp your hands together and make a wish and when you open your eyes, you see Xavier is doing the same thing. You ask what he wished for, but he shakes his head and says he can’t tell you.

Silence falls over you both before you stand up, excited. “Wait, I want to give this to you.”

Internally, you’re shocked as you see the familiar sword tassel with a star-shaped charm in your hand. He…still has that on his sword in the present day…

“Can I hug you?”

“What?”

Thinking you misheard him, you look into his eyes for confirmation. “Can I hug you?” He repeats himself. His tone is soft, fluttering to your ears like the wind.

Before you can react, he takes a few steps closer and leans down to hug you, all in one motion executed with calm precision. You’re stunned, but then your hands slowly climb up his back.

“Thank you. My wish came true.” He whispers into your ear, “Next time there’s a meteor shower, let’s visit this place again.”

Oh…Xavier, you poor thing. You knew deep down, there’s no way that the you of this time period would live to see another meteor shower. Your heart aches at this thought.

Ever since the meteor shower, your health has been on the decline. Your trips to the hospital became more and more frequent until you practically lived there, unable to leave. You expected this, but you didn’t expect it to be so soon.

It was as if you were being punished for even a moment of happiness.

And as you got more and more ill, you didn’t see Xavier for a while. It was like he disappeared without a trace. You had tried to contract him, but to no avail.

One, two, three days passed in this hell...You began to get more and more anxious about how this memory was going to end. Would you feel the pain of dying? Would it even hurt? Would you die alone?

Did he lose his freedom when he went to see the meteor shower with you?

Exactly one month after the meteor shower, you force yourself to sneak out of the hospital and back to the salt flat. You had a sinking feeling he’d be there.

Not too long ago, you could run and jump as much as you pleased but now, it feels like such a pain. It’s even hard to make your way to the trestle bridge you sat with Xavier on not too long ago. You knew your days were numbered. Who knows? You might even pass away today.

You’re not even sure how long you stayed at the bridge, but you waited there. Hoping, praying that Xavier would show up but after a few hours, you go to stand up and leave. But then, you notice a star reflected in the distance. It hangs on the pommel of a wooden sword, swinging back and forth.

It’s Xavier.

He’s running. To you.

He stops in front of you and that’s when you notice the wounds on his hands and face. Catching his breath, he holds out his hand to show you a small, glowing protocore.

This is the first time he’s looked at you with desperation in his eyes. When he moves closer, you notice a ring of light around his neck. It’s a striking, suffocating red.

“Did you…exchange your freedom for this?”

He doesn’t answer and instead says that this protocore can save you. He found it, but this withering heart inside of you was like a flickering candle about to go out at any moment, holding on only by your desire to see Xavier again.

“It’s too late. Return the protocore where you found it, alright?” You shoot him a small, pained smile and Xavier doesn’t say anything, clutching the protocore until his knuckles turn white.

“You promised we’d watch the meteor shower again.” He chokes out and his eyes are glossy with tears.

 “We have our own destinies…some things can’t be forced..” You reach out to poke the corner of his mouth, “Don’t be sad. I’ve been very happy this past month..” But you can’t help the tears that stream down your cheeks. You didn’t want to cry in front of him...you wanted to stay strong in front of him, but you just couldn’t.

You both sit down on the bridge and you manage to say, “If I wasn’t sick, would you watch the stars with me?”

“Yes...” Xavier puts his arm around you, letting you lean on his shoulder, “Not just the stars. I’d show you the mountains and rivers, the sun and the moon. We’ll see them together. I promise.”

“Okay, but…not the mountains. Hiking is a lot of work and I don’t want to–” Xavier cuts you off mid-sentence and squeezes your hand in his as he promises, “No matter what happens, I’ll be by your side. And no matter how long you rest I’ll wait for you.” “Alright, since you insist, I’ll just…have to..agree..”

Leaning on Xavier’s shoulder and dreaming of a disease-free future makes you happy. You feel your strength gradually disappear. You use whatever you have left to look up at the sky.

“It’s a shame…there’s no stars tonight.” You say, weakly. Your hand reaches up toward the inky black abyss.

“There is one.” He holds out his hands in front of you, his palm glowing. His shooting star is shining for you again. You pull your hand back to shakily touch the light in his hand with a finger. A smile tugged at your lips as your eyes felt heavier by the second.

You close your eyes and whisper your final wish. “I wish to meet you in my next life…I wonder if that will come true..”

“It will.” He holds your hand, giving you one last shooting star with his evol. It’s nice and warm and…it feels like someone is calling your name from above.

Your eyelids felt so heavy… And then, you suddenly can’t open them anymore. Before you fully lose consciousness, you hear a warm, gentle voice reach your ears like a shooting star.

“No matter how many times it takes, no matter where you are...I will find you.”

To be honest, it's really difficult for me to write about the reader actively looking into the past and being cognizant of it, but also having no control over their actions. Like the most I can do is have you comment on what is going on in your head, and even that doesn't feel like enough– but I tried and that's all the matters! I'm sure it comes off well enough. And I'm sure you know what this means...More past life dreams are coming very soon!

This is the big thing that inspired this story to begin with. I saw a TikTok where someone was talking about "what would happen if mc remembered her past lives? Would she blame herself?" Because everyone in the comments agreed that she had the saddest past lives because she's in all of them and is usually the 'reason' for bad things happening. So I wanted to do my own take on that, but with isekai, since that seemed that it would be fun! But now, it's turned into so much more than that. I can't wait to share more chapters with yall and Rafayel's myth is next!

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes , @mitzkooni , @hiqhkey, @tanspostsblog

[waynewifey]

dear mr. wayne — b.w

part one: dear mr. wayne

part two: aftermath

part three: aporia

epilogue

summary: it’s not easy being a politician’s wife. it’s even harder to love a vigilante. months of negligence make you an easy target to his enemies.

pairing: bruce wayne/battinson x reader

genre: angst romance & dark action

warnings: swearing; smoking; kidnapping; violence; a bit of gore; “you” is she/her; bruce is the worst husband ever btw

word count: 2.8k

A/N: i wrote this back in january 2022 when the batman movie had just premiered, so kinda off the hype here. i hope you enjoy it anyway. already working on part 2, let me know if you guys would like it! also, this has taken a path way darker than i had in mind so i’m sorry if it’s too much. comments are appreciated!

gotham city, USA.

it's late.

you have no clock nearby, but you feel it in your bones. in your muscles too. it's too late and bruce should be home already. laying in the sofa, only half conscious, you regret telling alfred to go to bed. at least you wouldn't be alone. of course, being married to the batman you knew he would patrol at night often. you were okay with it. but lately bruce had been too focused on his other, and recent, goal: running for mayor. at first it seemed out of character, he was never good with the public or the press. but he stared at thomas wayne's painting in the hall in such painful façade, it made sense all off sudden. you were supportive of it. you showed up to every event just to stay by his side, to show the people the lovable man he was. the man you loved. the man who couldn't even be home for dinner.

the penthouse's elevator dings, opening its doors at the end of the hallway you see perfectly from your seat. your head doesn't lift instantly, like in the first week. instead, a long sigh escapes from your lips as bruce reaches the living room.

"hello, darling." he says, still in motion as he walks the stairway up to the room you shared. not a single kiss, or a hug. you follow him, because what else is there to do? you need to go to bed anyway. by the time you get there, slowly, his suit is already on the floor and he's taking a shower.

"how was the meeting?" you ask, knowing he usually did his Wayne Enterprising meetings — which consisted of hanging out long hours in bars with business men — at night. recently, he started a complicated relationship with a real estate company he wanted to invest in.

"the usual." he stopped fully answering these questions three weeks ago, making the only time you ever talked even shorter. the city has gotten more violent than ever since his batman duties were put on standby.

"any closer to sealing the deal?" you sit on the bed, watching the open bathroom door.

"probably." it's not like he's being rude. well, maybe a little bit. he just doesn't want to talk any more, it's clear on his tone. but it's 2am and you brain isn't working too well.

"when is this gonna end, bruce?" you finally say, as he puts his boxers on. "when are we ever having dinner again? or going on a date? when are you gonna stop treating me like i'm some sort of home decor?" you almost vomit out the words that have been stuck on your throat for days. surprisingly, the heartache doesn't softens. instead, it gets worse. it's like admitting your abandonment.

six months ago, you started trying to get pregnant. it hadn't always been a dream of yours, but the idea of having an heir to all you've spent your life building is charming. you realised you were in the right time to do so, you had just turned 28, bruce was 32, and both had stable careers. a month later, bruce announced his candidacy. and so soon you gave up. you told yourself once he won the election everything would be fine. you would try again. but, realistically, being a mayor was already a lot of work on itself. he wouldn't want a pregnant wife or a child to take care of. after the four years, who knows? he might as well have a new life project. and your family would always stand on the side.

"i don't know what you're talking about..." he doesn't look into your eyes. hell, he barely looks at you. that feeling, the negligence, is enough to trigger the tears. you take a deep breath, making an effort to look composed.

"don't you, though?" your voice is shaken. look at me. look at me. look at me. look at me. he doesn't. "bruce." you call, finally getting his attention. however, the boredom on his face knocks you off your feet, legs trembling in pain and anger. "i just want you to make an effort on us..."

"really? cause that's all i ever done." he's leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed in a way you would find attractive in other circumstances. but now he's yelling and you fight back the urge to shrink into the mattress. "do you think i wanna have a kid on this fucked up town? i'm tryna fix this. fix everything!" his faces turns red-ish. something inside of you makes you want to leave the room. you've always been an avoider, that is one of the reasons you hadn't really had couple fights. so, basically, this is very new. "i've got the weight of the fucking world on my back."

"let's leave then" you manage to say, replacing the you chose this. it was true, however, that he was the one to put himself in this position. bruce wayne could've gotten his entire life without working if he wanted to. but he always needed to save everyone, to suffer for other's happiness. he was a giver. sometimes you wondered if he needed to be saved instead.

"you know i can't do that." he mumbles, in a defeated tone. a sigh escapes from his lips, suddenly the tiredness takes over his face. it's almost enough to make you let it go, to internalise your distress again. he really can't, you know that. he feels that the city is his liability, because it was the only thing he had since he became an orphan. but he had you, too. he just didn't acknowledge that.

"and i can't stay like this." it sounds like an whisper, but it's a plead. choose me. please. he seems to read it in your eyes, face contorting in agony when he realises what you're asking for. me or gotham? it's stupid to think he would ever choose you. but you hoped, so desperately, because you would choose him. always.

"let's not do this tonight, okay? i have to be in the office by the morning." tears instantly fall as he turns off the lights and lays on the bed, turning his back to where you slept. for a moment, you're static. his words were final. were you ever in control of something in your life? why were all of these decisions being made for you? mechanically, you stand on both feet and walk to the door. you don't even notice your movement until you're on the elevator. your husband didn't intervene either. this neighbourhood is one of the safest in town, which honestly isn't much but you had to get out. anyway, nowhere is totally safe at 3am.

you walk two blocks, clinging to the fluffy sweater you wore. the depressing air of gotham slows your pace, to a point you start wondering if it was really necessary to be aware. you could feel the city devouring you, starting with your hope. the blue 24h sign lights up the street, in a way that isn't welcoming, but you know the place well enough to not be scared to get in. a bell sounds over the door and wakes up the male behind the counter. he's got long black hair and seems to haven't seen a good night of sleep in weeks. same,you think.

"hi. can i get the blue one?" you point at the camel's behind the man. he nods, quickly putting a pack on the wooden board. the prices pops up on the cashier's display. you pay and go outside. smoking was an bad habit from your college days, when pressure got too excruciating. every now and then you would treat yourself to some cigarettes, for the confidence it gave you. the sense of control to be the one, for once, ruining yourself. the smoke burns your throat on the first inhale and you hold back a cough. you're too entertained by the cigar to notice the black van approaching. it stops right in front of you, and everything happens too quickly for your brain to process. it's all dark.

he's in a meeting, the boring kind.

the kind that has him seated in silence while a representative talks to his employees, who never get to listen to their actual boss. there's a chart being shown on a large tv on the other side of the room. he's not listening, though. he's writing down ideas for a thanksgiving speech. a head pops into the conference room.

"mr. wayne." it's one of the new assistants, hired especially for the election season. he didn't care to memorise her name, because temps usually don't last long. if she hadn't called him, he might've not even looked up. but the room is silent, expecting eyes on him. the girl at the door looks terrified. "you're urgently required outside, please."

he sighs as he gets up from his leather chair. the second the door closed behind him, chatter is heard again. in the corridor, the woman conducts him to his office and they get in. there's a bit of a commotion, four men lounge around his table, all their faces tense.

"mr. wayne, i'm afraid we don't have good news." the head of the marketing team speaks, a man called robert vance. he's probably said the same phrase to bruce about seven times this month, so that doesn't do much. the assistant approaches with an ipad, unpausing a video. "we received this from an anonymous email about forty minutes ago. we weren't able to get the ip address just yet."

the video starts with a black screen, zooming out to show a woman with a bag over her head. she has her hands on her back and is kneeling on the ground. bruce's heart skips a beat noticing the hair falling down her shoulders.

"bruce wayne..." an eerie voice whispers from behind the camera, breathing heavily. "i've robbed an egg from your basket, and you haven't even noticed!" there's a disturbing chuckle and the video shakes a bit. bruce doesn't move, eyes stuck on the screen. no one in the room has done anything other than breathing. someone gulps. "it's been long hours, but we're having fun, aren't we, darling?" a gloved hand reaches for the bag, pulling it out. her face - your face - is dripping blood. you're biting on a fabric, still in your home clothes. bruce's jaw clenches. you're crying, face beaten, in this degrading situation. your eyes pierce the screen right into his. suddenly, a gun is tapped on your forehead and you close your eyes into a sob. your lips mouth please. "i'm running out of patience here, you're running out of time. let's do business, shall we?" he laughs, knocking the pistol on the side of your head, making you fall laying on the floor, unconscious. the spot bleeds. "here's my proposal: you come clean about your father's deal with carmine falcone and maybe i don't shoot little mrs. wayne... or i do both. it's your choice, really. the clock is ticking. tick tock, wayne."

the video stops, the sight of a gun pointed at your unresponsive body burns into his mind. bruce is panting, the adrenaline rushes into his brain. there's a million of plans being built, but none of them seem viable.

"don't let media get this." he managed to say. one of the men in suits says it's too late. the tv flicks on showing a news report on the video. he kicks the side of his table, the contents being thrown across the room. "FUCK! you bastards wait forty fucking minutes to show me this?" he screams, no one can look him in the eyes. a hand runs through his black hair. "meanwhile my wife is out there with a gun on her head! and what have you done? i swear to god, if i don't find her alive and well i'm killing everyone in this goddamned room with my bare hands."

he storms out of there, reaching to his phone to call alfred and noticing the multiple missed calls. fucking silent mode. the sun is setting.

"i got the address." the butler says, instead of hello. a 'ding' sounds in his ear.

there has been pain for so long. you try to remember before the pain. but all is pain. he has to make it stop.

the floor is cold cement and you feel so small in this huge warehouse. the man in the mask knows you can't run. not only you're tied up, but the will had left you long before getting dragged into that van. he sees it in your eyes. so he strolls around, always in that ridiculous dark green overall. then he beats you up for fun. no cameras. just you and the devil himself. you find yourself praying, after all these years. you don't pray to get out, no. you pray so that it ends soon. you pray that the stab wound in your abdomen will get you an infection. you pray that when you close your eyes, you never have to open them again. but the divine has left you in the cold cement.

there's an explosion. your eyes open. there's smoke and dust taking over one of the walls. you're seeing everything horizontally, cheek on the floor. the man in green is just as scared as you were.

bruce wayne busted that fucking wall down. he expected a full team of psychopaths and maybe some more security. there was just one coward in the warehouse. the thing stares at him coming out of the smoke, fingers fidgeting. the batman steps forward. the freak steps back. then turns around, runs to a half broken wardrobe and grabs a gun from it. bruce walks slowly. there's a struggle loading the gun. he takes the opportunity to run and throw the thing on the floor. he bangs his head on it. the vermin screams. he takes one punch. two. tries to reach for the fallen gun. bruce steps on his hand and the loud crack echoes in the room. he screams again. three punches. the mask is taken off. his nose is bleeding. more punches. he holds the neck. the head is turning purple. oh how he wants to kill this little shit. bruce wayne will kill him. it will just take a few more seconds...

"baby, no" at first he thinks he's imagining it. it's so soft, so weak. but he looks up and there she is. his hands loose. right on the corner, chains on her legs. her face is ruined from blood and dirt. her wrists bleed too. the motherfucker chained her. hell is too good for this thing.

bang. on his shoulder. he looks down and the blood is dripping on the freak's face. he’s pushed to the side, holding the wound. tiny white dots obstruct his vision. he grunts through the pain. the man gets up and runs towards you. bruce can’t move. he arches his back, trying to roll and lay on his chest. it feels like he can’t move his arm anymore, like his bones had detached. when he finally does so, the man is escaping through a window. his hand searches for the adrenaline-boost in his belt, grabs it and quickly injects on his leg. it takes a second to get his blood rushing again. he crawls up and jumps through the window, which leads him to a metal balcony.

you’re almost standing, but he holds your chains and a gun to your face. the shooting sound had scared you awake. you can’t believe how close to bruce you finally are, but the conditions couldn’t be worse. you can hear water running below your feet, you don’t need daylight to show you the violent river you’re standing above. this is not good.

bruce has his hands up in the air and is holding himself back to not do anything stupid. the man’s face is contorting into the creepiest smile. no.

everything happens so slowly, yet he’s not quick enough to grab you in time. you’re falling in the air and he jumped after you. for a moment, the world is air. you can’t hold out your hand. your hair is flying in your face, he does not want to die without seeing you one last time. his cape holds him back and the distance between you only increases. you’re gone. the impact comes.

part two

[ananiel]

Yandere angelico and Yandere Raphael With Human reader running away from the wedding take the baby with them how were their family and friends react to this?(these are separate request)

Hello hello, i am finally feeling better, i have had a lot of medical problems lately with a lot of things and tripa to the doctors but now i am a bit better and ready to write again

I hope You did not wait too long!

This might be a bit shorter than usual, i am trying to get back on my feet for now so excuse me.

This is like a whole new story, not neceserly conected to the other idea.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The day had begun like any other in the clan’s estate, with the sun casting fractured gold through the old stained glass windows and the murmurs of wedding preparation humming through the halls. The twins were asleep in the nursery, snug and unaware of the storm that was about to break.

You had been quiet for days. Too quiet. Raphael had noticed it first—your lingering stares at the horizon, the way your hand always hovered protectively over the babies, your sharp intake of breath whenever anyone mentioned the ceremony. Angelico, though arrogant and sharp-tongued as ever, had sensed it too. He chose to ignore it, or perhaps he thought your nerves were temporary.

But when morning came and the nursery was empty, your scent trailing like a ghost through the eastern exit, the realization struck like a bolt.

She ran.

"She's gone," Fred muttered, pale as parchment.

"The babies too," Hoyle added, disbelief in his voice.

"No one saw her leave?" George barked, pacing.

"No," Murrow said, already heading for the stables. "There were guards. She's clever. She must've planned this."

The pureblood club erupted into chaos. Meanwhile, Raphael stood frozen, the letter you had left clenched in his hand, knuckles white.

"I'm sorry. I need to find myself, my truth, without being a prize in a power struggle. I love you both. But I need to be free. The babies are safe with me."

Angelico looked like he might tear the world apart.

"She took them. My babies," he said, voice low, venomous. "And you let her slip past."

Raphael finally turned to him. "She’s not a possession, Angelico. Maybe if you had treated her like a woman with a mind and not a trophy—"

"Don't you start," Angelico hissed. "Don’t pretend you’re any better."

They might have come to blows if not for the heavy footsteps of their fathers entering the hall.

Dali Delico was first. He surveyed the scene, the tension crackling like electricity. "She left, didn’t she?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips. "That girl was always fire. You don’t leash a wildf

ire."

"You’re amused?" Gerhard snapped, his tone cold as winter. "She absconded with heirs of both houses!"

"And your point?" Dali drawled. "Better she run than become a bride by force. I told you both. Love isn’t a chain, it’s a choice."

Angelico looked betrayed, Raphael looked hollow, and the pureblood club? They were stunned into silence.

"She took the twins. Her own children," Dali said more softly. "You both made her a battleground. She made a choice to protect them. And herself."

"We need to find her," Angelico said through gritted teeth.

"Not with fury. With understanding," Raphael added. For once, their voices found a rare harmony.

Dali crossed his arms. "Then you’d best start thinking like men who want a mother to come back home, not weapons of war. She might come back, if you prove you deserve her."

Outside, the wind rustled the trees. Somewhere far from the estate, you held your babies close, heart pounding, torn between love and fear.

But you were not afraid of them.

You were afraid of being swallowed whole by two loves that didn’t know how to share.

And now, both vampire lords were learning what it meant to ache in silence—left behind not by betrayal, but by a desperate woman who refused to be anything but herself.

And the hunt... had only just begun.

[38sr]

I know this is gonna be a strange one, but I do have an industry question;

I've been looking for a job for the last 4 years post-grad, I've tried every bit of advice I've gotten over my 6 years in school and 4 years out. Is it too late for me?? Or more so what advice would you have at this point?? I'm starting to feel really negatively about this venture, and getting a day job has been just as difficult;;

Hello Sky! Hope it's okay to call you that. Ah post-grad job hunting.....I don't miss that period of my life at all. Before I begin, just want to preface that what I say going forward is strictly from my perspective/experience. I am not the absolute of the animation industry so if what I say doesn't align with you, you do not have to follow it haha. Alright, advice for post grad job hunting.... Well, I think I want to start off giving a bit of context for the animation landscape these past 4 years that has been rough for everyone (trust me it'll come back around to your question): 1.) COVID Pandemic

This one might be a confusing for some people because when COVID hit in 2020, the only facet of entertainment that was able to keep going was animation. If you remember, during this time streaming numbers went up because people were stuck at home, every studio was launching their own streaming platform (HBO Max, Disney+, Peacock, etc.) and celebrities were given animated shows because live-action had stopped dead in its tracks. This period allowed artists outside of California state to get hired because what's the point of capping the talent to the local area when we're already working remotely? In short, it was a boom. But an exponential boom rather than a gradual boom. You never wanna grow too fast because you'll crash out quicker (and harder) which leads us to our second factor.... 2.) Netflix's first ever round of layoffs in summer 2022, streaming actually isn't profitable?????

In short, this year is when Netflix's growth finally stopped and was the beginning of The Great Animation Contraction. Other studios who were looking to Netflix as a the new model of distributing/creating entertainment had realized Netflix wasn't invincible. As well as their business model. So naturally, they got scared and and take action (aka layoffs). I was affected by these layoffs while working at Marvel Studios and many artists got laid off at studios to save face from the mistake that was streaming (though at this point studios were still double downing on it). Also, around this time live-action was slowly restarting thanks to vaccines and social distancing protocols. So those celebrity studded animated productions dwindled down (and also they caused so much havoc for us animation workers because most of those celebrities had no animation production experience). Which now leads us to...

3.) Mergers everywhere! Yeah, uh, mergers fucking suck. People kept losing their jobs because companies kept absorbing into each other and multiplying their debts to ungodly dollars amounts! Apparently no one took a math class and understood if you multiply any number by zero you will always get a zero. These merger also caused more shows to get shelved and canned, making the job market even slimmer. And by then we get to 2023 and the....

4.) WGA, SAG and TAG Contract Negotiations By now, studios have realized that streaming is losing them money because it costs a butt load of money to not only create a streaming site, but also maintain it, update it, create new media for it, acquire established franchises for it, and maintain the current library. Streaming shows aren't being advertised like they used to on cable so shows don't last beyond one or two seasons. Worker contracts are becoming shorter and shorter (I had a co-worker who had a 3 month contract! Isn't that insane?). And what happens in the midst of this streaming meltdown?

WGA, SAG and TAG are gearing up for their contract negotiations. And as we know SAG (actors) and WGA (writers) did strike which good for them! But now there are no live-action jobs and once again, animation (TAG) is the only one running because our negotiations don't officially start until 2024. At this point, so many animated productions have been cancelled left and right for the sake of "saving money and cutting costs". And the effects were very much being felt in the animation work force. Some animation workers were starting to leave the state of California to more affordable cities, some getting day jobs as baristas, hell some leaving the industry all together. It didn't help that studios were kind of withholding production greenlights 'cause 1) they're greedy corporations 2) these strikes were putting pressure on them. And when we did enter 2024 for our contract negotiations, that contraction was at the tightest. The job market for animation had become so bone dry that you have director-level talent taking entry level jobs to stay afloat. But because of that new, emerging artists are blocked out from breaking in. Anytime a job listing would go up people would go in a frenzy and try every thing they could to get the job. That's how little shows were in production this year specifically. Of course, by now it is public that TAG has ratified the contract (meaning we will not strike). But up until then, studios were quite literally waiting with baited breath for the duration of negotiations. A ton of stuff was in development but nothing was getting a greenlight in fear of a strike. So many animation workers at this point have been laid off for at least 2 years, got priced out of LA county, or got so burned by the industry that they left for a more sustainable paycheck. At this point of the post you're probably thinking, "Why is she talking about all of this and not answering my question?"

And the reason for that is because I what to highlight you didn't miss your chance. You unfortunately graduated at a time where the circumstances were not good for breaking in for the past 4 years.

I'm not saying this to deter you from animation either. I just want to be transparent and honest about the current state of animation because it really has been bleak for the past 4 years. So it's not your fault but rather the industry was just in a seriously bad drought. Both emerging and veteran artists have been struggling to find work and when they do it didn't even last for 6 months. Hopefully, with the renewed contract studios will start greenlighting productions again so everyone isn't fighting for one job opening. But I can't tell 'cause I am not Raven Baxter haha. But what advice can I give during this tough time? Start developing your own projects. Things may be pretty dry right now but now is the time when you can create and develop your own original stuff that can be used in your portfolio. Short or long form, showing progress videos, just create. Because once you start working it's gonna be hard to find that personal project time (trust me I'm going through that right now haha). Also, you'd be surprised how just doing your own thing can garner the attention of someone who does have the power to hire you. How do you think I got to work on the shows I have in the animation industry? Almost all of my jobs happened because I was just creating my own thing and it just happened to match the sensibilities of a show produced by a Hollywood studio. And if I had any additional advice... it would probably be don't think that Hollywood is the only way you can tell your stories.

This one is more of....a recent revelation I've had after going through a pretty bad work experience but Hollywood isn't the only way you can be a storyteller. Whether it's comics, games, streaming, animation, or film....the Hollywood system isn't the end all be all. And by Hollywood system I'm referring to breaking into a big studio like Disney, Nick or something and trying to get your own movie/tv show to win an award or something. That system often works for a certain group of people and fails other groups. That's why I say develop and create your own thing because you might find something that fits your creative voice more than Disney or any other Hollywood studio. Maybe that's inconsiderate of me to say as someone who's been incredibly lucky to work in the animation industry for almost 8 years now....but I still wanna be honest that there are other avenues that isn't the Hollywood way. All in all, please don't give up or beat yourself up. The current state of animation within America was out your control and resulted in many artists struggling to find a job. You aren't too late. In fact, I would say now is your time to do your thing in preparation for when that hiring boom comes again (or you can just take another route to tell your stories). I hope that answered your question!

[katz-rambles]

Hellooo again lovely writer ! I hope you are well, this is a new day, so it means I have a new idea for you if you're up for it ;)

I'll be honest: I have a huge praise kink that I'm a bit embarrassed about. And this got me thinking, what do you think would happen if one of the ghouls (your choice) accidentally found out that reader has a praise kink? Like, what if one of the ghoul casually praises reader's work on something one day, and her reaction kinda gives away just how much the praise affected her. (Especially with the ghouls heightened senses). Intrigued, the ghoul kinda teases her even more, praising her every chance they got after that day until finally she can't take it anymore.

(Idk, this might be a shitty idea.)

I get you, Anon. Praise kink club 🤭. You know me, I had to do Rain, hehe. I'm sorry this took me longer than usually to put out.

1k words, a bit shorter than usual 🫣

(nsfw, fem!reader, praise kink, dub-con if you squint, oral (fem receiving) PiV, cumming inside, I think this is it?)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

‘Good job,’ or ‘you did so well,’ the little praise Rain gives you sends shivers down your spine. It can be forever the simplest things ever and he'll praise you for it. Somedays you swear he's doing it on purpose. You don't want him to stop though. It feels good, knowing you made him proud, it also sparks a heat in your core you know wasn't there before.

Today's a little different. You're doing your chores, as normal, and one of them just so happens to be cleaning parts of the ghoul den. Sometimes this includes their rooms, the Ghouls take good care of their rooms and the dens but sometimes they just need a little bit more cleaning. That was one of your chores today. It's not a big job, thankfully. You had gotten assigned to the dens kitchen, it was quite quick. The ghouls take an amazing job of cleaning ready, so most of your job was already done.

Now that you've finished the job, you get ready and pack up the cleaning supplies. “I think this is the cleanest it's ever been, don't tell anyone I said that though. Good job, droplet,” Rain praises and rubs your shoulder, he chuckles when he sees your face get a pink flush. You can feel the butterflies in your stomach and the heat pool in your core and your thighs automatically rub together. His hand on your shoulder is warm and it has your mind drifting. When you look back up he has a smirk on your face and he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good girl,” He mumbles against your forehead and pulls away leaving you with a heat in your core and a bright red face.

When you reach your room and open the door, you get into more pajamas and you hear your phone go off. When you check it, it's a message from Rain. ‘Can you come to my room? Need you for something.’ His words send shivers down your spine and you don't feel like getting dressed again. You've just put your bra back on and a proper pair of pants, leaving your thin shirt on, just covered with a plain hoodie. Comfortable enough and you can move in it just in case.

The door to his room is unlocked and you walk in, he's sitting on the bed and he pats the place on the bed beside him. He's in a pair of loose pants and a too tight shirt that scruples his figure perfectly, it's mouth watering. “Come here, pretty girl,” He watches you like a hawk as you sit beside him. His hand rests on your thigh and he trails his hand up higher until he's at your inner thigh. He moves his face closer to yours and breathes out, “I hope you're okay with this, because when I start I won't be able to stop.”

And with that his lips are on yours, and your hands are pulling him closer to you, trying to get impossibly close to him. He pulls away and you start to take off your hoodie, your shirt coming with it. “Look at you, so pretty. What a good girl you are for me, so pretty,” He groans and kisses your neck down to your breasts. He unclasps your bra and grabs your breast, toying with the nipple and sucking on the other one. He grabs your waist and pulls his mouth off your nipple with a pop and a small bruise forming. At this point you can feel the gush of wetness pool in your panties, it's almost embarrassing, and it would be if there wasn't an evident bulge in Rain's pants to show he's just as turned on as you are.

He helps you get out of your pants, leaving you in your panties, he sits down on the ground in front of you. He's still fully clothed and you're almost fully naked, but you can't complain when he kisses your clit through your panties. “Oh shit, Rain.. please,” You whine and he complies, pulling your panties, almost ripping them off you in desperation. His breath is hot and it counters the cool air against your wet folds. You thread your fingers in his hair and pull him closer and he eagerly laps at your folds and sucks on your sensitive clit before moving his tongue down to fuck you with it. His tongue is long and forked so it hits all the right spots while also being able to lap back up at your clit. When he feels you clench he goes back to sucking on your clit and he slides two of his fingers inside you, curling them up with each thrust of his fingers. He lets you cum on them and he pulls them out, painfully slow. “Such a good girl for me,” He groans when he looks at them, he takes his fingers into his mouth and moans at the taste, you feel a new wave of arousal leak from you at the sight.

“Rain. Please, fuck me already,” You whine and he stands up to pull down his pants and tugs off his shirt, positioning himself at your slick hole and he quickly bottoms out inside you. His thrusts are quick and deep, the sounds of your slick and cum mixed with his saliva lets him easily move.

“Unholy fuck.. you're soaked for me. You like it when I praise you, hmm? Good girl,” He groans and lets his head fall back when you clench around him. He starts to move faster and impossibly deeper. You arch your back and lift your hips up for him, he grabs your thighs and wraps them around his waist. You can feel the coil in your core start to tighten and you know he can feel you clenching around him. He starts to rub your clit, he needs to feel you cum around him, and he needs it now.

The room is filled with slick noises of skin on skin and both your moans. At this point, you're not sure who's louder, you or him. With one last motion on your clit you're cumming around his cock, desperately milking him for all he has and he cums deep inside you, groaning as he does so. “There you go, such a good girl for me,” He pants and kisses you. You both move to lie on his bed, cuddling until you both fall asleep, you'll clean up in the morning, but right now you just need eachother.