#I’m equal to my male colleagues

[malienessan]

AITA for demanding that I get a gender neutral title on my badge at work?

[hellsburners]

soft release

summary: steven got a little rough with this one pairing: steven grant x male reader word count: 1.5k warnings: 18+ warning, s3x, top!steven, rough stuff, nods to comic steven, maybe ooc idk a/n: based on this request.

masterlist | more moon knight

His silence was deafening, all you could hear was the sound of the car speeding through the streets of London. His hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. Your hands were cold and clammy. 

You were on the way home from a gala with your partner, famous museum curator, Steven Grant of the National Art Gallery. The gala featured new historical findings from a site in Egypt funded by the Grant Foundation. 

There were at least fifty people in the museum. Everyone was clad in pristine clothing, gowns, and expensive suits drinking equally expensive champagne. You came as Steven’s partner, a surprise to a lot of his colleagues. He wore a dark pinstripe tuxedo with the brightest white tie, his shoes were polished so bright it shone under the moonlight. 

He made you wear a similarly luxurious midnight blue tuxedo that complemented his. He introduced you to the other curators in Europe. You tried not to get bored but it definitely was. Steven said he hated it himself. You anxiously downed a few glasses of champagne, which you eventually regretted.

He was still silent when you arrived at the manor, removing his coat and his tie. He looked at you with his sunken eyes, a glare you would only see from Marc but you knew it was still Steven. He licked his lips and let out a sigh.

“If this is about earlier—” you tried to say, but Steven pulled you into your shared bedroom, your back against the hardwood door. 

“Flirting with my co-workers, ‘Do you think that was nice of you, love?” he said, his face so close to yours you could feel his warm breath on your lips. His hand is above your shoulder.

You shook your head, speechless. “Don’t think so,” he pulled back and went onto the bed removing his silver cufflinks. “Come here,” he gestured to the bed, his voice deep and serious, like a general giving away orders. 

“I’m so sorry—” you uttered. He let out a few tsks before pulling his belt off. On the usual, it would be you who would be the more aggressive when it comes to stuff like this. You went to sit on the edge of your white king-sized bed, Steven looking down on you with shadows in his eyes. 

He caressed your cheek with his thumb, it was so warm against your skin. His thumb went to your lips as he bent down to kiss you. You let out a soft moan as his lips left yours. He smirked. “Can we play?” he asked. You nodded before he placed his tie around your eyes, it was soft against your nose bridge and your temples. 

Steven started to undress you, your shirt, your pants, your underwear. Before he laid you down he took the tie around your neck and wrapped it around your wrists and secured it with a knot. He gently placed you against the wide bedspread, your arms above your head. 

“I hated the way he looked at you, the way he touched your hand as he talked to you,” he whispered in your ear leaving wet kisses around your neck. You could feel the stubble prick your skin. “Is it fair, my love? To let me see all that?” he said. You shook your head before he spun you around so your face faced the sheets, your ass cold against the air. 

He smacked your rear with a loud clap, like a thunderstrike. A red print is left on your skin. He massaged it with a grip that grew tighter and tighter. You let out a cry from impact, tears forming in your eyes. Steven knew how much this might have shocked you, how it wasn’t really like him. But he saw the way that man looked at you, filled with so much lust and want, he wanted to hurt him. “Shit, I’m so sorry love was that too much?” he shakingly said. 

“No, it—it’s good I liked it,” you witnessed a new side to him, your sweet and soft-spoken boyfriend was now all rough with you. You felt your center turn and harden. Steven’s own hardness grew, the visual of you prone on the bed bound and blindfolded, he cursed. It was Marc’s idea. He heard him whisper it in the car. Do it, teach ‘em a lesson.

“You’re so naughty, what will I do without you, love?” he said as he undressed his trousers. He bent down to kiss your nape, you could feel his tip rub against your back, leaving a wet trail. He took some lube and prepared your hole, his big digits inserted in you opening you up. He left kisses against your ass, leaving a few bites. You wince from the slight pain. 

You hear a foil wrapper being opened and an elastic being stretched. “Can I be rough with you?” he said, you let out a whiny yes. He gently pressed into you, his hardness entering you. The two of you let out a loud groan, his hands gripping your waist. 

He proceeded to thrust into you with fervor, he let out loud needy noises. You could feel his fingers press into your hip bones, his skin slapping into yours through each thrust. You could feel the hard tip ram into your most sensitive spots. You cried out curses and his name. The bed started to creek and rock back and forth, your fingers dug into the soft sheets. 

The sheer amount of force he was letting out was enough to push you to the edge, you could feel your cock leak so much pleasure. Stop, he’s close, a voice whispered to Steven. He pulled out, you let out a sob from the loss of sensation. 

“Steven—babe,” you were a whimpering mess.

“Not yet pretty, ‘need to show you how mad I am right now,” he sulked before turning you over and placing hips between your legs. He started to press wet kisses around your torso, his tongue playing with one of your nipples. The lack of vision made your whole body feel much more sensitive. 

Your bound hands tried to touch his hair as he kissed you down to your leaking cock, he swiftly took your wrist and pinned them back above your head. He went to kiss around your neck, his hand going to your cock, he stroked it so fast, and with the precum, it was so slippering you were sure you’d finally cum. He stopped when your legs began to close, you let out another cry. 

“You’re leaking so much, love. No one can make you like this but us.” 

“I know—”

“Just the three of us for you. Is that not enough?”

“You’re m—more than enough.”

“So it won’t happen again?” he sounded like he was begging, pleading for you to only care for him. 

“Yes—”

The moment you gave out your answer he pressed his cock again to your hole and began to fuck you again. He was harder, it was stiff around your rear, but pleasurable sliding across your muscles. His hip bones clashed against your skin, wet sounds filled the room. Your eyes rolled back from the sensation, your legs trembling. 

The constant rubbing loosened the tie from your eyes, you saw Steven covered in sweat, glistening under the moonlight. His curly hair was all tousled and the veins in his hands were visible as it held your waist. He looked at you and noticed that you could finally see him. He placed a wanton kiss on your lips, it was lousy at best but filled with so much want. You placed your hands around his head and pulled him close. 

He untied you and your hands began to snake across his wide back. The feeling of his cock inside you was starting to make your head feel light, your eyes half-lidded and your toes curled. You were a moaning mess under him. 

He whispered that he was close. His thrusts became erratic but still hard. You asked if you could ride him and he obliged. You began to ride him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Your hips moved up and down, his hands clenched on your ass. The two of you shared one last kiss as he came inside you, your own cum shooting on your torsos. You felt the room darken as your eyes closed. 

You woke up to the room still dark, the moon shone on the window. You felt a cold wet towel on your rear. It was Steven, cleaning you up as he pressed soft kisses on the redness around your waist. 

“You’re awake,” he said, placing the wet towel on the basin near the bed stand. “‘Sorry if it was too much.”

“Marc got you into this?” you giggled. He nodded like a scolded puppy. You stroke his wet hair before you place a light kiss on his lips. “Cuddle me into bed then, my body is sore,” you said as he took out your softest blankets and covered your naked bodies. He peppered you with kisses before you went back into slumber. 

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

[sashi-ya]

𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 Äs Nödt x F! Nurse! Reader

ಇ. I had this fic saved for myself, but I honestly didn't think my heart would be that broken when his inevitable end would get animated. Don't get me wrong, I loved Rukia and Byaku's win, but... you gotta understand that for a nurse, As Nodt represents those who you couldn't save. A patient whose hand needed a squeeze, but still it was too painful for him... poor thing. ಇ. tw: medical terminology. be careful if you are sensitive to illness and death topics. it is full of little metaphors, try to understand where I was going with what I wrote. you can ask me too! ಇ. wc: 1k

Before he was even a Sternritter, As was a simple man. A suffering, yet simple man. And you knew him very well.

He was sick, bedridden. It was too painful for him to even breathe. His existence was cold, sterile, and for him so unworthy.

However, there was a Sun. A Sun that would shine a light every time it walked through the doors of his ever-pristine white room… you.

His voice has never been loud, but really, really low. It wasn’t sweet, it was very raspy, as if he was trembling in fear. His short, straight hair framed his façade, the mask giving him oxygen carved red marks on his cheeks and black eyes fixed in a boring ceiling.

Oh, but you. His only reason to smile. But did he show it to you? No. Did he tell you? Neither.

But you knew…

“Hello Äs! how are you doing today?” you ask, with a metallic tray on your hands. Who knows how many pills are in there, but all of them are equally necessary for him to stay alive.

“H- hello… g- good” he said, every time. He doesn’t feel good, he never does. But does he want for you to worry about him? No.

You come closer to his bed, leaving the tray over his tiny bedside table. Taking a swift look at his monitor, you see -as always- his heart rate slightly going up. Ah… he is at least interested in feeling something besides pain and fear about his inevitable end.

“So, Sir Nödt… I’m aware today is your physical therapy day. Nurse (male name) won’t be able to attend the hospital today, would you allow me to do it for him?” you ask. Everything should be professional. You probably were waiting a “no” but instead he took a little time to answer.

“Hmh…” he nods, as much as he could possibly move his neck without grimacing in pain.

You smile, kindly. Your look softens. You didn’t want to feel sorry, pity for him. You really thought those feelings weren’t proper. But you couldn’t help it. Your heart ached too, and you wanted to help him as much as you could… “Good! Let’s make those muscles move with utmost care! Let me put on some tunes too”

You weren’t sure about him wanting for real to do it. He never did, as your colleagues said. “He is in pain, but he is equally scared to feel pain and that freezes him even more. He won’t ever get better…”

Again, your heart ached. What do they know about getting better? Why judging him? He needed help, not critics. And… who knows, maybe, he just needed someone to believe in him to feel better.

You make sure your hands aren’t cold. You wear a mask to come close to him, you don’t want to create more problems for him, a simple germ could cost him his thread hanging life.

You take your phone and press play. A soft melody starts playing. You don’t really know when it was, but you were sure he said he likes the sound of pianos playing to relax.

 Äs widens his eyes. Extremely black orbs fix on you, he is amazed by the song filling the room, he is probably glad to hear something besides the sound of the oxygen flow on his face.

“Give your hand, please” you whisper, trying not to cover the song. You let him choose which one of his pale hands will move first.

He breathes in a considerable amount of air into his lungs, and then, with trembling motion his right bony hand reaches yours. It feels soft. Lightweight.

And so needy.

You begin to inspect his joints. Of course it’s painful for him, not only because of being sick but also because of avoiding to move them for so long. “One finger at a time” you murmur, as you can feel him desiring to grab your hand.

He goes slow. Äs wants more, but he is in pain. He is afraid.

“Don’t be scared. I’m holding your hand right now. You can try to hold mine” you encourage him. You, perhaps, wanted more and even the same way he does for him to grab your hand… Are you falling in love with a patient? A.. dying patient?

He sees you. You see him. He closes his eyes. And maybe a little smile wanted to adorn his lips. His fine, chapped, lips.

“Follow me, Äs”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ.

When he opens his eyes he isn’t lying down in a mattress. He is standing, in two feet. He is still pale, his hands show that. A cold breeze kisses his cheeks, he notices his hair is way longer now as it flows with the wind around.

He can hear kids laughing, and the greenery around feels refreshing. A park… it’s been so long since he stood in the middle of one.

Suddenly, something lands on his cold nose. It’s as soft as the wind, but it’s pink. A cherry blossom petal just flew up to where he is. And like that rosy flower, a million rain down from dark wooden trees.

“Spring? Is this Hanami?” he asks and notices he can speak louder. And when he does, it’s not painful… it’s… normal.

He slowly turns around. And again, moving doesn’t hurt. Breathing doesn’t hurt. Her arms around his waist coming from behind, either.

“Äs! Love! Turn around, I wanna take a picture of you with the Cherry Blossoms in the back!” you chime. Your camera, an old analogue one, captures the beauty of a pinkish rain that doesn’t wet but only kisses your skin with a soft, soft scent.

He is absolutely stunned by your beauty as you walk back pointing the camera lens to him. Your hair also flows. You are his nurse, his sun. What are you doing there? Why is he alive?

“Smile you silly! You are scaring me! What’s gotten into you?” you scold him, his death stare creeps you out sometimes.

As the camera shots and captures his amazed look, you walk back towards his thin arms. “Wanna have some ice cream? Or do you prefer cotton candy? Oh wait, maybe you want Takoyaki?” you excitedly jump, feeling the hard edges of his hipbones against your belly when hugging him.

“I just want to hug you for a little longer…” he murmurs. It kinda scares you, because when he ever said something sweet?

“Hug me for as long as you want, sweetheart…” you whisper, nuzzled in the crook of his neck. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, it’s so soothing to feel his chest go up and down, breathing pure air…  

Don't wake up. Don't wake up. please, just for a few moments now... Your Majesty.

[gojowh0rcs]

I’m on my period and I’m just picturing what thatd be like with Gojo as a bf. He definitely believes in PMSing. The whole shebang. He’s def annoying about it too so if you do end up snappin at him (cuz ur bleedin out ur coochie and maybe crampin so his usual teasing just feels sm more grating than normal) it doesn’t do much to refute his belief in PMS and the women being emotional and downright erratic during that time of the month (stupid man moment). he definitely picks up based on behavior when his girl is on her period too (or even before it comes if there’s a sudden mood change a week before). because even if he’d be a shit bf in terms of presence, he definitely studies his girl and notices all her little mannerisms and behaviors. he’s a highly observant individual and the six eyes just heightens everything too. notices the little twitch in ur finger or the way ur wrist flexes when your nervous type shit, but he never really says anything to allude to it or brags about it v much (unless he’s deliberately being an asshole and you think you could hide smth from him and he just feels like not giving it to you this one time so he throws it in ur face in a humorous but still very blunt and harsh way). and he doesn’t always help out with his s/o’s anxieties or just things she’s not willing to mention first neither. I think most of the time he’ll give his s/o their space to figure out things themselves and tends to mind his business unless they ask for help. That’s mostly a testament to how bad he is at comforting though. Unlike someone like Yuji, who I picture is probably just as confused on how to comfort his girl (specifically), he’d still try and it’s in his earnest sincerity at wanting to alleviate whatever she’s dealing with (and probably shoulder the weight entirely if he was allowed that opportunity), that he usually puts a smile on his girls face. Yuji is just a sweetheart, but he’s clumsy and he probably fucks up all the time. However it’s in the intention and his honest heart that a s/o could overlook any mishaps (most of the time).

GOJO on the other hand is not nearly that honest or earnest. He’s calm cool and collected. And he’s naturally a little mean too. Like he probably thinks at first his s/o could suck it up. Like shouldn’t you be used to this already? Just seems like a woman thing he doesn’t particularly understand so maybe he should stay away if he irks her nerves more than usual. But when it’s actually weighing on her or if she’s particularly uncomfortable and it’s out of her realm of control, Gojo does take pity. And he is still protective, even tho he’s detached. If he could take away her pain or switch roles he would without a second thought. But he can’t. And asking if she needs anything might feel a little embarrassing because that means he doesn’t already know what to do. (That and he doesn’t really have that nurturing of a personality so it feels a lil odd comin from his mouth). But Satoru Gojo failing at something??? Unthinkable. Unheard of. Fake news. He ends up googling how to help period pains and ends up finding some forum or subreddit of equally confused husbands and boyfriends. He ends up reading everything he could find and educating himself on the horrors and facts of menstruation and ends up learning more than he bargains for. But now he’s excelling most of the male population again and it’s just another notch in his belt, proof of not only being the strongest but the most knowledgeable 😎✨. (ends up braggin to some of his male students or colleagues like WOW how can YOU NOT know the strength of a period cramp could crush a can cmon megumi ur lackin). He also half thinks he should get some points for being so considerate and sweet. So he’s half expecting a big fat kiss and some praise when he suddenly strolls in with a bunch of bags of supplies and chocolate since he read somewhere more than half of women crave chocolate on their first days of menstruation. Snacking out on that is smth he can definitely help you with if you feel guilty for piggin out. When he finds out occasionally rubbing your back, watching movies, eatin junk and cuddles on your really bad days is all you really need to be satiated, he thinks it’s a pretty sweet deal. It might even become a frequent enough occurrence for him to call it something egregious like period parties. He’s ur pms partner ❤️ (you can smack him)

[lexiklecksi]

Happy international women’s day!

I wanted to write an intelligent post for this international women’s day, but frankly, I am exhausted. Exhausted of discussing my rights, freedom, existence and sexuality with strangers online. Exhausted of leaving my social media bubble which consists of cool, queer and feminist people to get hit by reality.

There are still too many people who think women’s rights aren’t human rights. And that is unbelievable to me because whether you identify as a woman or not, we need to care about all people in this society. I’m also exhausted about discussing why we still need feminism and why gender equality benefits all genders. But I’m also inspired.

Inspired by all these magnificent women on here who continue to fight for their rights, empower other women and inspire me to not give up the fight. Inspired by all the nonbinary folks and feminist men out there who show their identity even when they are constantly getting harassed. For all the brave people who have suffered from sexual harassment and abuse but chose to live with their trauma.

I know that I am incredibly privileged and I always considered myself to not be a victim of this patriarchal society. But the more I think about all the comments others made about my body, the way some people keep questioning my skills and competence just because I am a woman ….

The gender pay gap and the gender data gap are real, so please educate yourself. Women are still being discriminated against in all aspects of their lives, from their own home to public spaces to the court room. Even in a workplace environment, whether it is harassment or getting paid less than their male colleagues. And I’m not even in a position to talk about working mothers, who have to juggle being there for their children and working full-time while facing uninvited judgment for it.

Let’s face reality: Nobody wants to be a victim, we want to be empowered, to feel free and live our lives the way we deem right. And I hope that’s possible in the near future, at least where I live, but there’s so much to work on. So let’s work on smashing the patriarchy together!

And even though some feminists might disagree with me on this: patriarchal structures suppress everyone who isn’t rich or in power and that includes most men. So it’s not just the female urge to smash the patriarchy, it’s the human urge to free ourselves from the societal, political and religious suppression that tries to hold us down, keep us small and hush our voices. Feel free to discuss this topic further in the comments, this is a safe space.

If anyone feels the need to write something hateful in my comment section, I will delete it. That’s just to ensure my own mental health and to protect the people reading this post and comments. I am open to discussion, but my rights are not up for a debate.

Let’s smash the patriarchy together!

Noted: When I speak of women, of course that includes trans women.

[itshornokplease]

Miss Scarlet and the Duke

I started watching this show ages ago but it took me until learning that one of the actors was leaving the show to really just binge it all. I have thoughts, some may be unpopular.

- Eliza is not that likable of a character. She’s pushy, she is bossy, she disregards rules, etc. This show made me think a lot about Miss Fisher, but where Phryne does a lot of the same stuff that Eliza does, she is so much more charming and kind. I think that’s the main thing - Phryne is a kind and compassionate character. Eliza has integrity and shows compassion too, but she’s also kind of stuck up and selfish. Not that those are BAD things necessarily in the context of the show. She’s a woman in Victorian England and doesn’t get the same respect or trust that her male colleagues and counterparts do and I think it’s actually kind of a nice change that she’s not instantly likable. But by the end of season 4, I feel like she’s barely grown at all.

I feel like every other character had some growth whereas she still is the same. I read this on someone else’s comment or blog post but when you watch the flashback episode (which I really enjoyed), she’s the same then as she is now. Literally, she has not grown in personality or character.

- William. I think he definitely showed some growth (personally my favorite “relationship” is William and Fitzroy. I love how he mentors the young cop and helps him get stronger and better), and until that scene where he and Eliza make eggs, I didn’t really see any chemistry. I also think he loves Eliza way more than she really loves him. So the route his character took makes sense to me. I already knew he was leaving when I watched Seasons 2-4, so I wasn’t as invested in the relationship as many fans are. But it really bothered me that they did the whole “William tells her he loves her” thing because I honestly just don’t see it with Eliza. Yes, she was jealous when he was with Arabella but again, I feel like Eliza as a person hasn’t grown much during this show so I feel like her jealousy was more like a “I’m not sure if this is love or because you’re with my best friend” type of thing. I don’t think the show did that very well, personally. All the moments she and William had always had her freaking out and I wish that we could really see more into what she was really feeling. Did she really love him? Or did she think she maybe loved him but wasn’t sure? I don’t know, I think compared to the first two seasons, the latter two seasons really tried to hit viewers on the head that these two are meant to be, but I’m not convinced.

Anyway! I will miss William because I enjoyed their banter and friendship but tbh I miss Moses WAY MORE.

- i read this in other posts but i 100% agree that Patrick Nash seems waaaaay more well suited for Eliza than William. He views her as his equal, he’s hilarious, and I can see their relationship go more the romantic way than I ever saw it with William.

- Moses was the BEST. Moses and Solomon were awesome and I’m so mad that Moses left for Paris. He was so straight with Eliza.

If I’m being perfectly honest, I enjoyed the interactions between the characters in this show. The murder mysteries were very meh. Honestly, I just wanna go watch Miss Fisher now and enjoy the truest slow burn romance of them all between Phryne and Jack.

[waitmyturtles]

Wanted to quickly post on two ongoing shows that I am loving! She Loves to Cook, and She Loves to Eat (Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna, or TsukuTabe) and Two Office Workers Who Are Too Poisonous For One’s Eyes (Me No Doku Sugiru Shokuba No Futari or MenoDoku):

1) FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY, TsukuTabe is out and it is FABULOUS! GAHHHHH, a GL WITH GORGEOUS SHOTS OF DELICIOUS FOOOOOOD, I NEED MOOORE OF THIS:

AAAHHHH, MINCED PORK STEW, NEED A RECIPE ASAP, AAAAHHHHH!!!

But, no, seriously, the story is wonderful, which I’ve covered before, but really quickly: Nomoto is a single woman who has a small appetite, but a desire to cook HUGE portions of food. Her neighbor, Kasuga, loves to eat a lot -- so they might be a perfect match for each other.

I’ve written about the following before in the context of NHK’s 2018 dorama, Life as a Girl, in that I really love when NHK — Japan’s biggest broadcaster — tackles edgier content, such as transgender rights (in the case of LAAG) and now here, in a GL in TsukuTabe. The mangaka behind TsukuTabe, Yuzaki Sakaomi, is publicly and prominently supporting the legalization of same-sex marriage in Japan, and NHK certainly can’t be turning a blind eye to that.

But, as well, this show is loaded with commentary about gender equity and equality. It pisses Nomoto off, for instance, that her male colleagues equate her love for cooking with an assumption that she’ll be a great mother and wife. It pisses her off so much that she cooks way too much food to blow off steam — and invites Kasuga over to eat up. At the same time, Kasuga experiences discrimination by way of being served too little food at a restaurant, so she’s ready for Nomoto’s big dinner.

All of this is to say that there’s a LOT going on in each utterly darling 15-minute episode (gotta say, NHK, it is criminal that these episodes aren’t longer, but I know we have a way to go with GL in Japan), and I cannot wait to see where this goes. I really highly recommend reading the manga before diving in — it’s a fast and fabulous read!

2) I wrote about MenoDoku previously, and I’m just here to say that if you want to watch multiple office fujoshis be COMPLETELY over the top in their obsession of two guys in their office (all while the two fujoshis telepathically communicate to each other), PLEASE WATCH THIS SHOW. I am breathless, it’s total insanity. 

Basically, the show is about Oto and Shizuku, two gals who work in the same office, who discover that they both fantasize about Chief Hongou and his subordinate, Daichi, being in a relationship. The shipping is NON-STOP. Episode 13 shows the two lads having fallen asleep in the office, which is like earthquake-level for the two girls:

And later in the episode, the ladies realize that Chief Hongou had intentionally asked Daichi to drive with him to a training to help him through a rough patch in the office:

Legit, all they do is communicate telepathically and flip the F out -- it is HILARIOUS.

Each episode is only five minutes, but I hope this show goes on forever, because the shipping is perfect. I might have perhaps smelled a potential small attraction between Oto (ponytail) and Chief Hongou in another episode, but I can’t do that to Daichi, so I’ll leave it alone for now. 

Anyway, I am totally stanning these shows (kind of nice to have a touch of a breather after the Cherry Magic volcano of emosh last month), and I start Utsukushii Kare tonight, along with finishing Wakako Zake/season 5, which I will write a WHOLE THING ABOUT, because I love shows where people eat alone. And my khao man gai post will come soon, too, yay!

[walkingstackofbooks]

DS9 3x25 Facets thoughts (I’m re-watching, so beware spoilers for future episodes!)

(06/06/2023)

I love Nog's determination to join Starfleet, he really is putting his all into it, and good for him.

"Why can't you take after your friend here? He knows enough to stay out of Starfleet. Even a human can see that there are a lot more profitable opportunities out there for a young man with ambition." "Uncle, he wants to be a writer. There's no profit in that." XD yep Quark's argument definitely backfired there - surely he knows humans work for enjoyment, not profit!

"I've noticed they've [Jadzia and Leeta] been spending quite a bit of time together." Oh I can really see them being excellent friends, I wanna read more about Leeta&Jadzia...

Oh I've just realised what episode this is - hell yeah! Definitely looking forward to seeing this again!

"If you don't mind... I'd like to borrow your bodies for a few hours." I'm sure they've all heard of stranger things, but also That is Quite The Request to just come out with. 

Leeta being the one person super informed about the Trill is everything - and Julian looks at her so admiringly, it's sweet :3

The way Kira says yes is somehow so intimate, I can't with the way she smiles at Jadzia.

Ughh, I HATE oomax being used to force Quark into doing things, at any time, it's just gross - but especially here, when he's being asked to do something uncomfortable with his body but is expected to agree straight away without being given thinking time.

The special effects are so weird - the memories glow?

"I was one of the first women to serve as a council member. When I started out, I talked with my hands a lot. Lots of emphatic gesturing. I discovered some of my male colleagues were imitating of me, so I started to do this." It's always strange but interesting to see alien societies have the exact same problems as Earth - though for Trill, this was in the mid-late 2100s, so (god I hope!) long after women were treated equally on Earth. I'm curious now about how Trill society treated joined women whose symbionts had lived in male hosts, or if they once had a strict gender binary that meant symbionts were only passed down in same-gender lines? 

"It's so strange. It's like you really are Lela." Actually I had completely forgotten it was Kira's body too - Nana Visitor is an incredible actress!

I love how tenderly Shimerman is acting as Audrid - he isn't playing this for laughs.

I cannot take Torias' American accent seriously I'm sorry XD I can't tell if it's believable or not but at the very least it sounds wrong coming out of Julian's mouth!

The music and Sisko's soft voice... Chills

"I think that's enough of Joran for now." And you just believed him, Jadzia? That didn't even SOUND like Sisko!

I do love it when there's a scene and someone's head just pokes around a corner. 

Rom's bumbling about is very endearing no matter what Quark says

Rom ordering a uniform! So cute!

Odo kissing Quark on the forehead! Odo saying "Did I ever mention you're a magnificent scoundrel?" WELL THEN

This Curzon/Odo thing is quite a lot of fun though. 

"He's right, you know. And it's not fair. Starfleet has no idea who it's passing up. Nog, you would have made a good officer." Quark! That's so sweet?

"Yes, but the truth is, I felt sorry for you." FUCK YOU CURZON

QUARK YOU DID WHAT?!!! THAT'S WHY YOU WERE SO NICE TO HIM EARLIER?? YOU'RE THE WORST!!!

"And if you ever do anything to hurt Nog again, I'll burn the bar to the ground." "You wouldn't dare." "Oh yes I would. My son's happiness is more important to me than anything, even latinum." Rom is just so good. (Also, makes me think of when Angelica sings, "I love my sister more than anything in this life, I will choose her happiness over mine, every time!" in Hamilton.)

He's definitely far more Curzon than Odo imo - he's got Odo's mannerisms but Curzon's enjoyment of life and personality.

"You can't intimidate me, Curzon. And I'm not a little girl anymore." YOU TELL HIM, JADZIA

The music.. Are we supposed to feel sorry for Curzon about his revelation he loved her? Because nope. No. 

I love how we get to see Julian and Miles playing darts and Sisko, Kira and Jake having dinner together just cos. That scene could have started with any generic Quark's bar shot but it didn't :3

ROM IS SO SWEET. 

Everyone's fond smiles <3

Nog it's too :3333 "I know I haven't earned the right to wear it yet, but my father got it for me." He's obviously a little uncomfortable knowing he shouldn't be in uniform yet but he still wears it to make his father happy <3

"It just occurred to me. As soon as that kid graduates from the Academy, I'm going to have to call him sir." I love how O'Brien says this with fond amusement.

"What can I get you, Nog?" "A root beer. It's an Earth drink. Something they serve at the Academy." "A root beer. This is the end of Ferengi civilization." Always so dramatic, Quark.

[findingmypeace]

Ah fuck. I am such a pushover and have no ability to say no. As such this all my fault. I just agreed to work an AM shift at the male house tomorrow morning. Ugh, why did I do that?! Like I am fully aware that 3 floor shifts a week is pretty much my limit and I have an incredible amount of my own work to do. But as if now, for this week, I am working 4 floor shifts, doing everything on my to-do list, and I will need to teach the mental health portion of the new hire orientation in the middle of one of my floor shifts. That’s usually in person but they agreed to let me do it over zoom so I can continue to be available for my floor shift that’s at the same time.

I am seriously exhausted just thinking about it.

I have one more complaint but, again, I want to make it clear that I still ove my job and there will never be a 100% perfect job. The venting I am doing right now has more to do with the fact that I’m exhausted from working so much and I’ve got so much more going on in my head from my personal life. So I may be complaining but this is still my dream job and I’m just really tired.

So my last complaint is that while we are being asked to work so many floor shifts there is absolutely no incentive to do it. To put it simply there is no extra pay as we (management) are all on salary. I get paid the same amount every paycheck no matter what. I may be working 4 floor shifts this week plus the job I got hired for and the only incentive I get is that I will enjoy spending time with clients and staff. So despite working so much more these past two weeks my paycheck will be the same amount as every other paycheck I have received. It’s a good thing that I care about the clients, the staff, and this job because I have no doubt there are people out there that would quit immediately if they were in this situation. Yes, it’s frustrating and at the same time I have never had a job where I have been more well-respected, treated as an equal, and, in general, enjoyed my time working with my colleagues. So does this suck? Yeah, absolutely! I would always love to be paid more when I am working more. And at the same time time I enjoy this job way too much for this to be a huge deal.

So I guess I will be working an AM shift. The first of 4 in a row. I really don’t know if I have the stamina for it.  But I got this!!!!! I can do it! (I’m trying to pump myself up)

[bayernteen]

Happy International Women’s Day

(Well, to the rest of the world, except for Red Bull Racing)

And as much as I would like to celebrate International Women’s Day, I plan not to celebrate it in motorsport because of the extreme disappointment that I had to deal with last night in the world of motorsport. I made a post on my Tumblr account regarding my reaction to the allegations, and it seems like Red Bull Racing has decided to not see this issue as a problem, especially to the drivers who give to the press. It’s really disappointing to see that women are still being treated as a minority, rather than being equal. Over the years we have seen women being oppressed by men, mainly because men are much more superior than women. So far there has been little or no representation in the factories, in the paddock or even as head of an F1 team. To make things even worse, when a female colleague of an F1 team wants to speak up, the male colleagues decided to shut them down and get silenced, and treat this as if this is a distraction, or if this is not their problem.

I’ve seen a lot of hate comments from female F1 supporters by male supporters, because they think that women support drivers because they’re pretty, or men will ask who won the first F1 race, or we are liking F1 drivers because of our beauty, or we are in love with F1 because we want to become future engineers. Some men are even saying that we like F1 because we need to spend our time on something. There have been questions like: “Why do women have a reason to watch F1? Why can’t we just do it? Every day when I see news of success with women in motorsport, they are always met with reluctantly and severe hate because they always say that “F1 is a sport for men” and “You don’t understand, you’re a woman”. And they said that it doesn’t matter about it, we race as one. We have barely seen the hashtag since 2021, and so far this is not racing as one. This is men against women. As women, we deserve to be included. Women deserve to be celebrated and protected like any man in motorsport.

I truly support the women in the F1 community, especially when it comes to women inside the sport and women who watch the sport. All of us matter, and nobody should be afraid to step up and speak up because it will get washed down by the hate comments on social media. Our voices truly matter, and what we saw with the female employee who was suspended by Red Bull as well as the hate comments was truly and utterly unacceptable.

I do apologize for the rant, but I’m hoping that this message will be heard loud and clear for the future of motorsport and Formula 1. We need to stand together, not just for us, but for the community.

Change needs to be made, and they need to do better.

[matildainmotion]

MY BLOG IS MOVING! and a blog on How to Keep Going, in the aftermath of anything

I have written 92 blogs, to date. I just counted, because I am slowly sifting and sorting through them, to transfer them over to my new website, which will house them from now on. 92 blogs, but today I feel wobbly about whether I can write this – the 93rd. It’s the first since I became an Author, published a book, and so, of course, as soon as I have this apparent entitlement granted – official legitimacy to write – I doubt that I deserve it or can do it. Proof, if ever I needed it, that self-doubt is a lifelong condition, and that however much acceptance I am given, or even accolades, I will still find a way to wriggle back out to the margins, to claim outsider status, because- truth be told – that uncomfortable place is where I feel most at home.

But there is another dynamic at play here as well, which is to do with finding myself an outsider, not only to the self-assured mainstream, but to my own work, which is out there now, in Waterstones. I can go in and buy it as if it had nothing to do with me (I did this yesterday) which in a way it doesn’t anymore. I spoke at the book launch of how much it felt like a boat launch – a goodbye party, as the boat-book sails off into the world without me, and I am meant to stand on the shore, to watch and see how it fares. But I don’t like the anxious checking – on Instagram, Amazon, Goodreads – the wait to see if it will get reviewed, make a long list, a short list, win a prize, whether it will ’make it’ at all. And I don’t like the sense of emptiness that follows this achievement – the almost inevitable anti-climax: ‘And now what?’

(My book in Waterstones)

So I stand, and hold onto my doubt – that old, uncomfortable, comfort blanket, and wonder whether or not I can write another blog. I wonder, in fact, if I can ever write anything good ever again. And this is also a familiar feeling. I recognise it of old – I just finished a novel dedicated to my mother, but this doubt reminds me of my dad.

My father suffered from a kind of creative hypochondria – as if he was always on the point of losing his powers. He was a German Jewish refugee who escaped to England in 1936, at 16, and was fortunate enough to find his way to Oxford University. An outsider who deeply valued his insider status – a mirror of me, in the next generation, an insider, who values her outsider-ness. He became a medieval historian, but not the dry and dusty kind- he prided himself on his prose, at the same time as being desperately offended once when someone alluded to his ‘purple passages,’ as if his work were all surface flourish. But whenever he finished a piece of work, he would worry as to whether he could ever produce another of equal merit. He published one book – Rule and Conflict in an Early Medieval Society – a scholarly work, never destined for the bestseller charts, but he’d check on its sales in the only way available to him, this being a pre-internet age: he would go into Blackwell’s and count the copies on the shelf. He studied, lectured, wrote for forty years, and worried for all forty of them as to whether he would lose it, or ever make it. When, at the age of sixty-four, he was given a professorship, he finally had at least one worry-free moment: “I’m it!” he told a colleague, by way of sharing the news. And, having become ‘it,’ he died a few years later.

(I don’t have many photos of my father - he is the one in the middle with the impressive eyebrows, that stayed black even when the rest of his hair turned grey)

It strikes me now, as I recognise the same angst at work in myself, as a very male kind of anxiety – ‘How did I do? Was I good enough? Will I be able to do it again?’ – as if each creative act were singular and climactic – a one shot deal – rather than cyclical and iterative. Which is all very well, to lean into these reassuring biological narratives, but I have just turned 49, and my biology and cycles are becoming increasingly irregular and unpredictable. So, I am wondering how to keep going, what other stories I can find to help me, and if there is a less exhausting, worrisome way to move on in the aftermath of publication.

It is both wonderful and difficult that, as a mum to two high needs children, neither of whom are currently at school, stopping is not an option. Motherhood is one long aftermath – which is surely part of the picture in post-natal depression. The birth – the great happening – is just the beginning. The rest of everything after, involves carrying on. Tonight, my daughter needed help to barter with the tooth fairy – can she keep her tooth and still get a silver coin? Can I write a note to ask? My son wanted support with emailing a video game company, keen to offer them feedback on their demo of Street Fighter 6 (good, but it’s too easy to spam the ranged moves, apparently). These things, and others – many much more gruelling than writing notes to fairies or reviews for games- must be done daily, nightly, and they have helped me develop a kind of ‘keeping going’ muscle, which, like the heart, simply keeps contracting, come what may.

On the whole, I am grateful that I have this stubborn reflex to keep going, keep writing, and that because of it, I have begun to learn two things, of which I need to remind myself now. The first is that it is worth accepting almost any commission – notes to tooth fairies, emails to game companies – I will take them, write them all. It is even worth writing rubbish, especially when I am feeling rubbish – depressed, scared, angry, ashamed – you name it, if I start writing it, then perhaps, one day, the good stuff may turn up. And the second thing is that the good stuff does turn up. It always turns up, eventually. It’s like on stage, when doing an improvised scene, you don’t need to make trouble happen – it will come and find you. Drama, story, just has a way of happening.

This law – stuff turns up, story happens – makes me think of my favourite kind of stall at the annual fair I went to as a child in Oxford. Every autumn the fair arrived. It transformed St. Giles, so that it took me until adulthood to recognise it as the street down which my father walked to buy croissants and coffee. Many of the rides frightened me, but I loved the stalls that were festooned with cheap toys – huge inflatable hammers, colourful teddies, bubble blowers – and which promised, in large, painted letters: ‘A Prize Every Time’. There were two kinds – one where you were given a long-handled butterfly net, and in the centre of the stall, a cloud of ping pong balls miraculously hovered. You only had to catch one ball to win a prize. And then there was the ‘hook a duck’ kind – a bamboo pole with a silver hook on the end, and a pond on a pedestal with yellow ducks, numbers on their sides, hooks in their heads, bobbing about, waiting to be lifted clear of the water.

I like the ordinariness of this image. The tackiness. The idea that the secret to creative resilience could be summed up with ping pong balls blown upwards, or rubber ducks drifting in a pretend pond. It gives me a certain steadiness in the face of this vulnerable post-publication time, and in our era of constant online showcasing, feedback, and never-ending worry. The prize may be a cheap plastic toy – not the Booker or any other literary wonder- but it is somehow lovely to know that you’ll get one every time. It helps me know that’s it’s not over. It helps me to move on from standing on the shore, looking out for a sighting of the book, like an anxious parent beside the carousel – to use another fairground image – waiting to spot my child on its next rotation. It helps me look beyond to the bigger picture of this merry-go-round earth.

So look, here I am, nearing the end of my 93rd blog, which I thought I couldn’t write. And, “Look,” I want to tell my father, “You needn’t worry – some works do well, others not so much, life happens, trouble shows up, the world as we know it may be ending – but story keeps unfolding. There is always another ping pong ball to catch, yellow duck to hook – a prize every time.”

And here are your questions – your prizes- to take away this month:

How do you keep going in the aftermath of something? It could be anything – a piece of work, but also a birthday, any point in the calendar to which you have been heading and then it’s over, and you hadn’t thought about this time, but now it’s here…..?

What keeps you steady? Gives you resilience? What are the prizes you can win every time, every day?

And if you want to keep reading these blogs – because I will keep writing them – stuff will turn up – please sign up to my mailing list on my new website, where they will live from now.

[fingertipsmp3]

Me when women call me “love” or “sweetheart”: 💖💞✨💓❤️

Me when men call me “love” or “sweetheart”: 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

[creativeashproductions]

Back to the 118 // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: Buck meets the firefighter he replaced as the reader transfers back to the 118. The reader never expected to fall for a co-worker the first day back at the 118 after two years spent at the 155 in Los Feliz.

Warnings: Swearing, sickness, hospitals, health issues, pregnancy, angst and a shit ton of fluff

Words: 5.9k

A/N: So this is obviously a modern au for jatp to fit in the 911 universe. To make this work, Buck replaced Reader instead of Tommy after many failed probies. Eddie then later replaced Tommy.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Your e/c eyes scanned the outward appearance of the first firehouse you’d worked at fresh out of the Academy. The place that had become a second home from the increased tension-filled house your parents still lived in. A place you had escaped as quickly as you could for a dream career. A career your parents hadn’t been proud of in the beginning, with the danger that came with being a firefighter paramedic.

“You the new recruit?”

Your eyes fell from the building to the male individual standing near the open bay the engine and ladder truck both used. The male in question must have joined the 118 after you transferred to the 155. The stranger towered at least six feet minimum with blue eyes and short blonde hair with the slightest wave.

“No-”

“Flint!” The excited voice of the only other female paramedic called out. You only saw dark navy before you were pretty much tackled.

Hen and Chimney had equally taken you under their wings when you initially joined as a rookie. You’d been the second female firefighter-paramedic at the 118 and the youngest by far. As if you’d summoned him, you felt the arms of Chimney sandwich you against Hen.

“Flint?” The stranger parroted, blinking his eyes at the rather unusual scene of Chimney and Hen wrapped around an unknown girl.

“What are you doing here?” Chimney questioned, stepping back. Hen scoured your entire form for any differences that had occurred.

“Y/N decided to come home,” Bobby spoke from a few feet behind the reunion with the beaming smile on his features. His lips pulled into a smile directed at the first recruit he’d taken on his first year at the 118.

“Bobby!” You grinned, meeting the father figure in the middle of the distance between you two. Bobby wrapped you up in his arms tightly, a certain lightness cocooning the Captain as he took in his friends.

“You’re back here?”

“Everything is squared back at home now, thankfully, and while I loved working with the 155, it wasn’t home. This will always be home.”

“Buck, this is Y/N Patterson. She worked her first two years with the 118 before transferring to the 155 in Los Feliz. Y/N, this is one of our newest members, Evan Buckley.” Bobby gestured towards the previously nameless firefighter.

“Who would leave the 118?” Buck questioned, unable to come up with a valid reason to leave the family at 118.

Buck’s opinion didn’t stand with his only workplace after successfully becoming a firefighter solely was the 118. Never had he worked in another firehouse. He’d been a fire marshall and volunteered his time in the Austin wildfire, but he always came home to the 118.

“Family issues.”

2018, Firehouse 118, Los Angeles

A fresh-faced, albeit dirty from sweat and soot, jumped down from the engine truck’s high steps. The synchronized slam of doors sounded from your colleagues and friends Hen and Chimney. All three individuals famished for the casserole Bobby had premade during the slow morning.

“Baked Mac n’ Cheese.” Tommy breathed from his position by the driver side. Tommy Kinard was a stoic man towering over six feet. He was always a gentle giant after you’d bonded after a hard call.

“Clean up, and I’ll have it in the oven. It’s Chimney’s time to make the salad and Flint’s turn to set the table.” Bobby spoke with barely a glance to the ground ahead of him. 

Your Captain jogged towards the stairs, whereas his team made their way to the locker rooms for a well-deserved shower. You and Hen split away from Tommy and Chimney to the women’s locker room that had gotten an upgrade.

Well, before you joined the Academy, the locker room had been used as a glorified game room, all thanks to the misogynist Captain from hell. Hen often had over the years mentioned how lucky you got with Bobby being your first Captain.

“Chimney better not put those onions like he did last time.” You spoke from under the stream of warm water. Nothing beat the warmth of a shower near the end of your shift erasing the evidence of your job.

“Man needs to learn the complimentary salad to the main dish.” Hen piped up from across the shower room.

You and Hen had both showered and redressed in a fresh uniform in under five minutes, the dirty one placed in a laundry bag. You’d managed to beat the boys to the upstairs by a few seconds. Enough to set half of the able before Chimney began to making his salad of choice.

“Looks great, Cap.” Tommy complimented the gooey homemade pasta Bobby religious made every third Thursday. He alternated between pasta recipes with the odd new recipe every once in a while.

“What are you waiting for? The bell?” Bobby quipped to the unmoving bunch of hungry individuals. His words started the boisterous meal time preceding the end of shift.

“So, we’re halfway through dinner and Amber-” Your phone interrupted the disaster date Tommy had begun telling. He continued as soon as you waved him to go ahead while you took the call.

“Hello?” You breathed into the phone.

“Hi, sweetheart.” The warmth infused in your mom’s voice soothed the ruffled feathers from the call you’d come back from, “How are you?”

“I’m good! We just finished eating. My shift is almost over, and I’ll have to go straight to the store for groceries-”

“Y/N, we found him.”

The him was easy to figure out given your brother had run away from home three months prior with only his dreams in mind. You’d spent most of your off time, sometimes even during shift out on a call, to scan the environment for Luke. You became a regular in questioning hospitals and homeless shelters.

“Where was he?”

“His band had been about to play at some big venue last night.” Mom’s word choice concerned you. Her voice dripped with sadness instead of the typical disappointment and annoyance on anything to do with Sunset Curve.

“Mom, what’s going on?”

“A few nights ago, the boys got hotdogs-”

“Streetdogs.” You interrupted with evident anger in your tone at the mention of those death dogs Luke consumed. You can’t even give a number to how many times you had told him how unsanitary and dangerous the food is.

“Something was wrong with the food. They got ill fast. Alex and Reggie are being kept for observation but will be found with a few days of rest.”

“What about Luke?”

“He tried to call 911; he was weak and fell. Y/N, he hit his head. He’s in the ICU in a coma.” Emily Patterson’s voice cracked as soon as she acknowledged the current state of her youngest child.

The colours of the world dulled as soon as your mind clicked that Luke was in the hospital. Your little brother had put himself in danger all because he had a big dream. Your mind flashed through your life growing up with him.

You remembered talking to your mom’s growing bump when she was pregnant with Luke. You remembered five-year-old Luke unable to settle unless you sang to him. Your voice was nothing special, but it soothed the little boy when he had a nightmare. You could vividly recall teaching Luke how to play the guitar when he was thirteen; the brunette a complete natural at it.

“What’s his prognosis?”

“Too early to tell. The doctor is hoping Luke will be in a general room after tomorrow if the swelling goes down. I wanted you to know as soon as possible.”

“How’s Dad?”

Emily hesitated from her position by a hospital bed. Her brown eyes carefully scanning the male sleeping soundly in the bed.

“Mom?”

“Your father had a heart attack last night. That’s why I haven’t been able to tell you sooner. He’s currently sleeping, but he’ll have a barrage of tests later today-”

“I’ll be there as soon as my shif-”

“No. Don’t drop anything. I can keep you up.”

“Excuse my language, but there’s no way in hell I’m staying away from my family. I’ll take a few days off. I’ll see you in a couple hours.” Your thumb tapped the red circle on the bottom of your screen.

The 118 didn’t bother pretending they hadn’t been watching your form during your phone call. Bobby felt like something had drastically changed in a few minutes you’d been busy on the phone.

“Everything okay?” Bobby inquired from his position at the kitchen sink. His hands in the sudsy water to scrub the empty pan.

“My brother and my father are in hospital. I’m gonna need some days off.” You informed your boss with a look of utter defeat coating your expression.

Those few days transitioned to transferring to the closest firehouse to your childhood home and the hospital. The medical bills from both your brother and father had begun to overwhelm your mother with the current single source of income. Emily didn’t ask you for anything, but you started renting the home you’d bought for extra money.

It was a silent agreement that you paid rent as a cover to helping with the bills piling up.

Present Day, Firehouse 118

Buck followed behind the welcoming group to the girl that seemed larger than life. Buck was impressed by the sacrifice you’d made for the good of your family. You’d willingly given up the family of the 118. Buck didn’t know if he could do the same.

“Welcome back.” Hen cheered on her guidance to the heaven everyone called the kitchen. Your department issue duffle bag dropped out of the wall on the top level.

Your eyes zeroed in on the spread of your favourite foods prepared by the only person aware of your return. It was only one look of gratitude towards the father figure before everyone dug in.

A few changes had occurred since you’d last sat at this table. Tommy Kinard had left the 118 for the 217 shortly after your departure. He’d been replaced by the ready to impress Buck. One thing that hadn’t changed was the delicious food Bobby made.

Your eyes found the sole empty chair at the long table, “Didn’t you say the house took on two new recruits since I left?”

“Buck took your position when you left. We had a revolving door of firefighters before Buck permanently joined.” Chimney supplied with a mouth full of lettuce and grated carrot. Hen whacked his arm for his lack of manners.

“You’ll meet Eddie on the next shift. He took the day off. It’s his son’s first birthday since his mom died.” Bobby informed you with that pinched wrinkle between his eyebrows, “He joined after Tommy left.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet the entire team.” You replied, looking past to the circular table behind Bobby’s spot. Sam and Ryan both waved happily upon catching sight of you back at your unspoken seat.

You listened intently as Hen shared the changes Denny had gone through in the time you’d been away. Chimney was ecstatic to point out the faint scar on his forehead.

“You had rebar go through your skull, and you’re completely fine?” You questioned, floored by the pure luck Chimney had.

“Oh, it was nasty. Went in from the back of the skull to the front.” Buck spoke enthusiastically, recounting the scene. Chimney deadpanned a look at his younger coworker, “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s like you never had it happen.”

“Doc was shocked at how positive the outcome and healing was. I was back at work within a month on light duty. I beat my record getting in my turnout gear.” 

“And yet my little brother was comatose for two months.” You grumbled under your breath. None of the people could make out the words, but the grimace on your face was enough to show them it was personal.

In true 118 fashion, the bell rang throughout the firehouse with the disembodied voice declaring the type and location. Yoru e/c eyes found Buck climbing into the driver’s seat where Tommy had once commandeered. It was odd not having the man who’d became an older brother to you.

“How’re your parents?” Hen questioned, sitting diagonally from you. Her fingers repositioning the radio on her chest.

“Dad’s recovering pretty good. Mom’s started attending her knitting club again.” 

Buck’s eyes raised to the rearview mirror to meet yours in interest, “What happened?”

“Uh...my dad had a heart attack a couple years ago. He took a long time to recover with the further stress that caused it.” You piped up, understanding the news would come out at some point, “My little brother was in an accident that left him in a coma. Life was just as messy after he woke up.”

“He’s okay?” Chimney questioned, “I know we’ve never met them, but it really gutted you.”

“Well, physically, he’s fine, but emotionally he’s upset. He was in a band, and when he came out of the coma, he found out some devastating news.” You continued to explain, but unfortunately, or maybe, fortunately, you’d come to the scene.

It was a little known place most teenagers discovered as a hang out spot just on the edge between your county and the next. The location was the infamous spot of cliff jumping; you knew because this was something you’d recklessly done in high school.

“He’s over here!” A blonde male of average height called from the edge of the cliff. His blue eyes were bright even from this distance, matching the detailing on his swim trunks.

Surrounding the edge with the boy was a group of teenagers his age, all in different versions of swimsuits. You found the scared brown eyes of a beautiful girl you vaguely knew from the few shows of Sunset Curve you had watched. Her dark blonde hair plaited out of her face. Her face clicked as Carrie Wilson, Bobby’s sister or cousin.

You jogged towards the edge of the cliff to look over. It was easily between fifteen to twenty feet from the edge of the cliff to the water. You recognized Hen crouching by your side, looking at what you were looking at.

On the rocks was a prone body of a teenage male with bruises already forming on his face from where you could see. His thick shoulder-length hair laid still half in the ponytail and around his head.

“Head trauma.” You murmured to Hen, scanning from a distance, “I can’t tell much from this height and angle.”

“Either a broken tibia or fibula. Spinal injury is definitely a concern.”

“Okay, his name is Willie Young. He’s eighteen years old. His sister Kayla was dared to jump off by doing some kind of flip. Willie took her dare and didn’t jump far enough or tripped over a rock.” Bobby listed having been talking with the group of teenagers all shook up.

“I can rappel-” Buck began to speak before you cut him off firmly.

“It would take too long, and the angle is difficult. Nobody rappels down it; the cliff isn’t stable enough. It crumbles pretty easy, and the unofficial name of this cliff is Devil’s Dive.” Your eyes found Carrie’s tear-filled once and the utter devastation in who you pegged as Kayla.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve jumped off this cliff for years as a teenager. You’re looking at the resident champion of self reckless endangerment at Devil’s Dive.” 

Hen, Chimney and Bobby each stared, shocked at your revelation of stupid teenager decisions.

“Then how are we gonna get down there,” Buck questioned, staring at the unconscious teenager lying on the rocks.

“Easy, I can jump from here into the water and climb onto the rocks to where Willie is. I have the experience of how and where to jump safely.” You spoke to your Captain with complete confidence in your abilities, “You can lower down the kit, radio and backboard by a rope. There’s a mansion beyond the trees that you can ask to borrow a boat from the owner. He’s eccentric and questionable but nice enough.”

Bobby nodded his head to your plan. You unbuttoned your uniform shirt to strip down to the department t-shirt with the emblem on your chest and across your back. You kept the boots and emptied your pockets of anything. The butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the height of the cliff you hadn’t jumped from in years.

“I’ll jump where-”

“Excuse me?” You scoffed at Buck’s assumption he could follow you.

“You’ll need another pair of hands to roll him on the backboard. I don’t have anyone waiting for me at home. This is kinda what I do. Bobby cleared it already.” Buck shrugged with a half-smirk on his handsome face.

With a roll of your eyes, you quickly gave Buck a rundown on how to jump correctly before you tossed yourself off the cliff. The cold water momentarily shocked your system as soon you submerged under the water. You swam to the surface before swimming towards the rocks. Willie hadn’t moved an inch.

“Whoa! That was so cool!” Buck cheered once he’d appeared on the surface of the water, “No wonder you used to do that!” 

His excitement both annoyed and amused you, “Eh. I was just an idiot kid who thought they were invincible.”

The two firefighters lifted themselves onto the rock formation, where blood stained the rock. While Buck retrieved the backboard and essentials from the rope, your hands moved across Willie’s body, checking for breaks. You caught the c-collar Buck tossed without looking. You quickly but gently put the collar on Willie.

“Hi, Willie. My name is Y/N, and I’m a paramedic. I’m gonna check you over for injuries.” You informed the teenager closely. You’d only just opened his eyes to flash a light on them, “Buck let Bobby know Willie’s pupils are reactive to light and the same size.”

“Got it!” Buck called out from the open medkit, “I’ll splint his leg.”

“W-what happened?” Willie wheezed sluggishly. His brown eyes were unfocused.

“You got hurt trying to jump off the cliff. You’re in good hands, Willie. I’m a paramedic with the Los Angeles Fire Department. This is my coworker Buck.”

“Kayla?”

“Perfectly safe, but you did give her a scare. Willie, can you feel this?” Buck questioned, gently touching his right foot. Buck and you both gave a sigh of relief as Willie confirmed he felt it.

 “Okay, we’re gonna roll you on to the backboard. On three: one, two, three.” You counted before rolling Willie on his side with Buck. Willie’s cry echoed around the surrounding as you settled him on the board.

“Need a ride?” Chimney asked as a very nice boat floated towards the three people on the rocks. Hen and Bobby helped load Willie onto the boat, “Mr. Covington agreed to let us use the boat if we don’t get blood on the seats.”

“Can you call my boyfriend?” Willie sluggishly asked when he was loaded into the ambulance on the cliff. Kayla sliding into the seat in the back of the ambulance with their items.

“Alex is meeting us at the hospital.” Kayla told her older brother, “You absolute idiot! You should have just let me jump!”

“And let you be in the back of the ambulance? Dad would kill me if I had let you do it.” Willie scoffed. Their conversation was silent as Chimney and Buck closed the back doors of the ambulance.

Bobby, Buck and you climbed into the fire truck to follow the ambulance to the closest hospital. Hen and Chimney rolled the gurney to the doors with Kayla hot on their heels. You’d just turned to head back to the truck when you saw three teens loitering near the entrance.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You grumbled, marching away from Bobby and Buck to the teen who was supposed to be in class.

Luke had been forced into private tutoring to catch up to his friends in his grades, meaning every afternoon. The watch on your wrist confirmed Luke was definitely supposed to be with his tutor at the community centre.

“Luke!” You shouted, stomping right up to the wide-eyed teen.

Luke’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as his older intimidating sister caught him like his hand was in the cookie jar. You didn’t give Reggie or Alex a second look while you gripped Luke’s ear to tug him away.

“Ow!” Luke whined from the angle you dragged him at.

“What the hell are you doing across the city? You’re supposed to be in your session that our parents are paying a great deal for.” You snapped, crossing your arms in your wet t-shirt.

“We need every chance we can to-”

“Make it big in the industry.” You parroted the past discussions on Luke’s dream as a band, “Do you remember how I got mom and dad off your back? An agreement that you finish high school on time. Not dropping out.”

“So many musicians have dropped out! Green Day’s frontman dropped out his senior year to focus on the band. Several others like Elton John and Kurt Cobain!” Luke enthused, gesturing with his hand to emphasize his words.

“Luke.” You warned, “It’s either catch by with a tutor with some time dedicated to your band, or it’s a military school.”

Luke’s hazel eyes minimally widened, “They would-”

Your stoic expression stayed the same as the energetic seventeen-year-old bounced in his spot across from you. 

“There’s only so much I can do before you lose everything. I know you feel anxious after what all happened, but music isn’t going anywhere.” You reached to squeeze Luke’s hand in yours, “So, I’ll clear it with my boss to have you ride the bus to the station. You’ll have your tutor sessions with my supervision, so I know you’re attending.”

“Y/N!” Bobby called from next to the firetruck, “We gotta go.”

“I’m guessing the Alex that Willie is dating your best friend?” You questioned with one raised eyebrow. Luke nodded in response, “Let mom know you had to be there for Alex. She’ll let skipping your session go this once.”

“Thanks!” Luke chimed, lunging to hug you. Your mouth barely opened before he was racing towards a jittery Alex and a grinning Reggie.

Reggie lifted his arm to wave with his flushed cheeks a darker red colour. You found Reggie’s crush on you to be absolutely adorable. He was a friendly kid.

“He looks good for a kid who was in a coma not long ago.” Hen breathed as the teenager entered the ER with his best friends beside him.

“Oh, he healed quickly. He was crushed after he fully recovered from his head injury.”

“That was your brother?” Buck inquired, and he was just as focused on your features as he had since he first met you. 

“Yeah! He was in a coma for ten months when he was sixteen. He’s spent the last two years catching on on school to graduate with his friends. Well hopefully. He’s dead set on dropping out.” You heavily sighed, leaning your temple on the glass window, “He was supposed to be at a tutoring session. I’ll be chaperoning to make sure he goes.”

“If you need to have them at the station, send me a schedule, and I’ll make it work. Luke’s just as much family as you are.”

The rest of the shift was smooth sailing as Buck followed you around with the sole purpose of getting to know you. The friendship came naturally to the two of you. He didn’t hold back with you like he did with others. Fridays off became hangouts that varied from just Buck and you to spend it with Eddie and Christopher.

Everyone could see Buck had developed feelings for you and vice versa. Unlike the man Buck used to be, he was cautious. He wanted to do this right. And Buck did. With the help of Christopher, he asked you out.

Months Later

Buck’s eyes fluttered open in the dim lighting of your new home’s bedroom he often found himself in. Before, you had alternated staying at his apartment or yours before a significant change happened. Luke moved in to finish his senior year with the help of your tutoring, as agreed with your parents. That led to you giving up your former home, the one that coincidentally Buck’s sister Maddie had rented from you.

“Luke! You better be awake!” Your voice came from the main floor of the home. Your voice alone seduced the firefight to leave the warm sheets.

His bare feet pattered down the hardwood floor stairs into the kitchen coated in all different kinds of breakfast food. Waffles to imported maple syrup to bacon spread across the counter.

“Morning,” Buck grumbled, stepping up behind you to tug you against his chest.

Unlike Buck’s softer footsteps, your little brother tore down the stairs like a stampede of elephants. Luke wore a vintage band shirt modified sleeveless; you’d be getting a voicemail about dress code violations. The chains hanging off his black jeans.

“You have to hurry, Lu. Buck and I can’t be late. He needs to get to his apart-”

“I don’t see why he doesn’t just move in. He’s here almost every night. He helps buy groceries.” Luke’s hazel eyes stared at the plate he towered food on.

Buck raised one eyebrow in response, “You just moved in. You should be settled before we make-”

“Dude. Your lease is up in like a month; just move in already. No feathers will be ruffled. Besides, the band’s taking off now that Nick got his dad Ryan to check our music out.” Luke sprouted with a beaming smile at the good news his new band received.

After Luke had recovered from that coma, he’d woken up in a world where Alex, Reggie and Bobby, no Trevor, now continued the band. Then when Alex and Reggie couldn’t go on, the rhythm guitarist betrayed Luke. He stole every song he could get his hands on and proved successful.

“Ryan Evans, right? His sister’s some bigshot on Broadway? Sharpay, right?” You questioned recalling in the early 2000s the success of Sharpay and Ryan in some kind of Disney films based on them.

“You’re about to be the sister and brother-in-law of a certified rockstar.” Luke’s attempt at smirking made him look like a chipmunk with full cheeks of food, “I don’t need a ride. Alex’s picking me up.”

“Straight to school, Luke. You’ve got two weeks left before you can leave that behind.” Buck pointed his coffee cup in the direction of the passionate musician. Luke returned a smile of acknowledgement.

The kitchen was quiet as Luke shoved as much food in his mouth in such little time while you watched. In a flash, he’d stuck his dishes in the dishwasher before sprinting out to the van beeping continuously.

“Think we can have you moved in by tomorrow? Your one-bedroom place will be a little cramped for five people.” You simply spoke as you rinsed your coffee cup out. You could hear the wheels in Buck’s brain turning as he thought.

“Five people?”

“Yeah. Luke, Albert, me, you and baby Buckley.”

The entire home went completely still as the announcement bled into the house you’d made a home. One hand resting against the smoothness of your belly. That hand covered by the calloused one of Buck’s. His blue eyes gleaming in utter adoration and excitement.

“Baby Buckley?” Buck marvelled, turning you to face him with tears running down your cheeks, “You’re pregnant?”

“I am. I guess we’re giving Maddie’s daughter a cousin.” You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Now I’m obligated to see your parents regularly, and I still grimace at the first introduction.” Buck winced, recalling the foot in mouth syndrome he’d developed.

Buck had never been as nervous as in this moment. Not when he had to tell his parents the first time he got kicked out of college. Or when his teenage self sat beside one of his flings waiting for the results of a pregnancy test. Not even on his first date with Abby. 

“You’ll be fine.” You soothed the anxious man standing by your side on the doorstep of your childhood home. The door opened, revealing Luke standing with a grimace, “Oh Mom, made you wear that.”

Luke had been stuffed into one of the only long-sleeved shirts he owned by your mother. It was a magenta maroon hued corduroy shirt and set off his chocolate hair perfectly. Apparently, your mother hadn’t been able to get him into a pair of pants that weren’t skinny, black or ripped.

“We’re meeting your boyfriend, not the damn Pope-”

“You wouldn’t be wearing that if the Pope was involved.” You retorted, stepping to tug the younger Patterson into your arms. The only thing you adored about your little brother was he never denied a hug. Physical touch is his love language, so he never went through a phase.

“Lucas, don’t let them freeze on the front porch!” Emily shouted from within the Patterson home. Luke rolled his eyes at his mother’s request.

“Luke, this is my boyfriend, Evan Buckley. Buck, this is my not so little brother Luke.” You swiftly introduced the most important males in your life.

Luke and Buck got along better than any previous partner you’d brought home. He got along with your parents really well. Even when he slightly embarrassed himself as the time came to go home, whether it was his place or yours. He kissed your mother’s cheek and shook hands with your father.

“No offence, but thank you for having a heart attack and a coma. If you hadn’t, I’m sure I would have never met Y/N.”

Luke snickered at Buck’s odd choice of words, as did your parents. A part of Buck dreaded the next time he’d see your parents.

The gentle press of lips against your cheek pulled you from your thoughts of the first family dinner. Despite the issues between Luke and your parents, they were great people and parents; Buck had felt like he finally fit in. Even with that awkward thankful he gave your brother and dad, he was family the minute Mitch and Emily saw the mutual looks.

“How are we gonna do this?”

“Well, as the pregnant one, I’ll carry the little Bean until it’s time for them to enter the world. Then we’ll-”

“I get that but with our jobs?”

You felt guilty at the dread of not getting to do what you love, but you were excited, “I’ll keep working as a paramedic. I’ll stay away from fires, and then I’ll go on mat leave. We’ll make this work, Buck.” 

Buck leaned down to rest his forehead against yours with his eyes closed, envisioning how life was about to change. Buck adored children. He had loved Christopher from the moment he’d first met him. Buck himself was a kid at heart. 

“I didn’t think I could fall more in love, but you continue to surprise me each time,” Buck murmured with that gorgeous smile that utterly melted your heart from the first time you saw it. Back when you tried to deny any feelings beyond friendship.

“We’re so lucky to have you, Evan Buckley.” You breathed as you leaned up to kiss him with as much passion as you could. Although it was mostly clashing of teeth with the matching wide grins on your face.

“This little girl is gonna be a heartbreaker but no boyfriends or girlfriends until they’re thirty.” Buck declared, tugging you into his arms. His blue eyes twinkling in the natural lighting.

“It could be a boy.”

“Or maybe neither. Boy, girl or non-binary, I’ll love them just as much.” Buck spoke once more.

Gideon Buckley was born in the early morning to the pride of his parents and extended family. He was a healthy solid 8 pounds with sparse dark blonde hair and the trademark grey-blue newborn eyes. You everyone but Buck and your surprise Gideon wasn’t alone. Grace Buckley followed her older twin brother eight minutes later.

You rested against the propped up pillows spent from the exhausting hours of labour, but it was worth it. The two tiny babies snuggled beneath the swaddling blanket concealing your bare chest. Skin to skin contact was absolutely the best part of being a parent.

“Did you steal a baby?” Chim joked upon entering the hospital room with Maddie in tow. Right behind them were your parents and Luke.

“I’d like you to meet our twins Gideon and Grace Buckley. Surprise!” Buck quietly cheered in the nearly silent room. Buck’s curated newly parents playlist gently playing in the background.

Mitch and Emily came closer to look at the little loves they proudly got to claim as their first grandchildren. Emily’s heart melted upon hearing Gracie coo in her sleep. Grace and Gideon’s fist pressed against each other.

“Congratulations.” Maddie breathed, bending to catch a peek at the twins’ faces.

“Luke. Would you like to meet your goddaughter and godson?” You questioned the nervous musician. The nineteen-year-old tiptoed his way to the hospital bed.

“I’m both their godfather?” Luke choked as soon as Buck gently transferred Gideon onto his uncle’s chest. 

“There’s no one else in the world I’d choose to help guide them in the right direction. You always found your way back onto the right path. You’ll do the same for them.” Buck answered with Gracie nestled on his chest.

 Buck was the first to hold them followed by you and then their godfather Luke.

Gid and Gracie, although unseen, had been in Luke’s graduation pictures and watched as Julie and the Phantoms signed with a record label. Where Gid was, Luke wasn’t far beyond; the special bond melted everyone. Likewise with Gracie and Alex.

Gid overall was a happy baby compared to Grace. Loved visiting the firehouse. Loved the people working with their father and previously their mother. For the entire first year of Gideon and Grace’s life, you stayed at home with the utter support of Buck.

“First day back.” Hen spoke from beside you on the bench in the women’s change room. As a fellow mother, she’d been watching your behaviour.

“I miss them. I feel guilty that I abandoned them-”

“Okay, your feelings are valid, but you aren’t abandoning Gideon or Grace. You’re teaching them that you can be a great mom while also being a badass firefighter. I was the same when I went back to work after we got Denny.”

“Do you ever wish you could be a stay at home mom?”

“I love Denny with my entire heart, but I couldn’t do that. I was meant to be a paramedic firefighter as much as Denny’s mother. Besides, I can see Maddie pushing in the double stroller.”

Your head snapped to see your sister in law beaming with the double stroller carrying Gideon and Grace. Maddie’s daughter sitting on the seat made for a toddler. Maddie and Chimney had come to a decision for Maddie to work part-time.

Hen watched as you bounded out of the changeroom in uniform to scoop the twins into your arms. In a split second, Buck was down the stairs cooing at the absolute loves of his life. His partner and two children.

Buck would forever be grateful for finding his way to the 118, where he found his true family. A place of acceptance, love, trust and loyalty. Buck found his place in the world, and that was beside you.

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[inlustrissss]

What about a fluff one shot of L falling in love with his friend and work partner... but he has no idea how to declare his love for reader so L decides to ask for misa's help.

Also, can i get a Goth and Gender Neutral reader? 👉👈

you asked, you got it! Although I am just a little bit late, I hope you won't be mad at me for this 🥺💕 I tried my utmost best with keeping it respectfully gender neutral so I hope you like it!!! Love, Inlustris

Monitor

L Lawliet x GN! Reader

warnings: none!

summary: After solving one case after the other, in the most dangerous moment the famous detective known as L finally starts to realize what is most dear to him. Though never being involved with feelings or touchy subjects, L asks an outsider for help. 

My requests are open! Submit here!

Throughout the big room no light shone through the thick curtains which had separated the working place from the window that lead to the outside world. 

As the busy streets in the afternoon spring sun, came to an end, only the tired clicking and ticking could be heard. The static of the TV wired to one of the main bodies of the computers flickered and played over the loud chirping of the long-billed plovers. As the rainy days came to an end, the smell of fresh gras was almost visible, though the headquarters seemed to only know serious work. 

The (H/C) haired only sighed, noticing their long friend and colleague working on a file absentmindedly.  Normally, a person who didn’t know the infamous detective L, they’d always find his behavior questioning, but would never interfere- thinking the male would work that way. Though (Y/N) knew, this wasn’t his 100%, something must be on his mind.

Glancing, almost stalking him for a while, they thought the genius would notice their stares, which he usually does, but for some reason his nail biting only intensified. Having talked to Watari, L’s personal butler, both of them ad agreed on trying to remind the man to stop his habit. Even this genius is human and gets trapped by simple anxious habits.

“Ryuzaki-”, calling him with his alias during working time and while on the open, he tensed up, “Stop your nail biting.”.

Even with their soft tone escaping their rosy but now colored in a beautiful darker shade he seemed to grow more nervous. “Besides, isn’t it time for a break? I’ve noticed the past couple of hours you’re not acting like yourself.”, looking around, the noticed they were alone. “Are you okay?”, they asked in a hushed tone.

Looking around, L noticed the big, round and innocent looking (E/C) orbs,  staring back into his dark irises, worry etched on their face. Their make-up and unique style fitting and contradicting to their profession as always, L rushed his thought that they’d probably make a better model than Misa-Misa.  But it would be a waste to their current investigation and future cases, due to their outstanding performance as his right hand.

Inching closer to L their (E/C) eyes narrowed, squinting ever so slightly. L didn’t make any movement, not a flinch. Their eyes would notice everything, even the slightest squirm. Quickly turning around though, L shrugged “Whatever you are talking about-”, taking a hold of his sugary cup of tea, the male stood up to leave, ”You’re right, it is indeed time for a break.”, opening the door, he left the dazzled one behind: “Monitor each fottage I left please, thanks (Y/N)”

Taking a long sip out of his plain white cup filled with a half of tea and the other half of sugar, L placed down the now empty cup on to a silver tray, that mostly Watari used to transport little sandwiches for each hard working inspector and treats for the detective. Taking some time to think about the events, L let his hands slide into his pockets, though stopped mid way as he had noticed that certain ping sound coming from the elevator.

Looking up, it was the said model: Misa-Misa, with her blond hair swaysing each step she too and the extraordinary Lolita-Goth look he oh so liked on his partner. Meeting her sea blue eyes, her facial expression lit up and her friendly and happy go lucky demeanor showed: “Ryuuakiii!”, waving her hand at him while dragging the letter “i” into an annoying laughing fit, she revealed a fashion magazine in her left.

“Good afternoon, Misa.”, waving back to the blonde, though with less enthusiasm, he asked, “Were you on your way to see (Y/N)?”, mentioning the magazine in Misas hand. “Oh yes!”, holding the magalogue into view, showing proudly the front page which contained the last few shootings the model mentioned the week before her last visit, “I wanted to show them the new copy we’ve been waiting for and--”, L cut her off by raising his hand, “Sorry, you can’t see them right now, it’s still working time, Misa.”

“Aww, seriously? You probably just want them all for yourself!”, pouting, Misa just crosse3d her arms before her chest, but L remained silent, softly repeating her words to himself “All for myself?”. The blonde looked up, a curious gaze meeting the raven haired, “So you do want her all to yourself!”, giggling, the model covered up her red lips with her free hand. “I’m not quite sure what you mean by that, they are a person on their own, I can’t simply restrict and own them.”

“Of course you know what I mean, you’re a genius, you should know!”, sighing, the blonde twirled a lose strand of hair between her middle and pointy finger: “Maybe all of that sugar did get to you..”,mocking the male, L just shrugged, “I don’t think so.”

But this did got him thinking: Does he truly want them all to himself? It indeed has been now quite the long time he was restless while working, not entirely there. His mind wandering off into an imaginative world or worrisome state whenever (Y/N) wouldn’t be around- no, scratch that, it didn’t matter, he quickly noticed.

Wether they’d be there or not, his mind was partly fixated on their well being. Though wasn’t it always like that? They’ve been partners for a really long time, longer than his knowledge of Naomi Misora for sure, and friends too. 

He read a lot of things during his early days, a lot about solving different puzzles and games, but he could never wrap his hand around when they came.

His experimental time with how feelings would work while (Y/N) were partners were over, he saw himself to them as an equal by now, but what if- “Helloo, earth to Ryuzaki!”, waving the magazine in front of the famous detective, Misa huffed, “Man, bet you’re thinking about (Y/N) if it takes you that long to get out of your dreamy thoughts”, gifting him a look of her tongue, she mocked him again, “You should try that brain-work on finding Kira! I wanna go on a date with Light already again, he promised!”, a date?

Maybe a little trip, spending the day with his friend would make the situation a bi8t lighter- finding out about his true thoughts and feelings that hid in his clouded mind. “Can’t believe I’m saying this-”, he murmured, “But: Misa, I might or might not need your help with something.”, he bluntly responded, ignoring her witty comments., “Help? With what?”, again, her airy head. Sighing, L explained another time, “You see, you’re such an emotional person, where I’m more technical.”, shoving his hands into his pockets, in a hunched position he began to walk, motioning her to follow him into a room across the hall, “The past few days I might’ve felt a little bit under the weather and I do have my suspicion, but to be honest, even as a detective, I can’t help but not be able to solve this mystery on my own, Misa.”

Opening the door, he held it open for the young woman to step inside. “What do you mean under the weather? Are you sick?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it sick, when it’s just a feeling, I believe, and not just a condition.”, he stated, scratching his had as he continued to stay while Misa took the opportunity to relax her legs and sit down on to a couch. “Wait, was I maybe right when I said you might have a thing for (Y/N)?”, noticing how L had perked up by hearing their name, Misas sea blue eyes seemed to sparkle a few shades lighter, already rosy cheeks deepening. “Awww~ Ryuzaki, really?”, she cooed at the usually emotionless acting detective. 

Like previously mentioned, he’s also just a human.

“For a long time now, I want to find out about these thoughts that were kept in the back of my head.”, especially now the most dangerous case since Beyond Birthday, everyday might as well be the last day that he would glance at their beautiful eyes, and their wonderful perfume reaching his nose. “I’m just not sure how”

Eyes softening along with her features, Misas excitement toned down and switched with a warm smile, noticing how lost the male was when it came to the most basic human needs, “It’s fairly easy on finding out how you feel about them, Ryuzaki.”

“If it would be that easy, I wonder why I can’t put my finger on it”, lifting his thumb to his mouth he began biting down on his nail, eyes following the trail of the skyline, visible due to the opened window.

Standing up and entrusting her weight back to her feet, Misas smile never wavered, “Why don’t you just ask them out?”

Dark eyes wandering back to the model, he raised a brow: “I work with them every day, I see (Y/N) every day.”

“I don’t mean as a colleague or as a friend, Ryuzaki. I’m sure they’ll say yes regardless and besides, spending a day with (Y/N) will give you surely an idea if not a start of your thesis on how to feel about them!”, looking up at the taller male with a determined look, Misa Amane was more than sure: “And if the firt time won’t be enough, the ask them out again and again and again, until you got your answer.”, making her way to the door, she stepped out. “It’s not too late and not too cold to go yet.”, winking to the male she laughed one last time

 “Take them out-”, she waved, “There is this pretty nice café down the block! I’ll come around another time!”, with that, she had left.

Thinking over the blondes words, she must be right. Besides, some time off shouldn’t hurt, it never does. Slow steps were heard as L Lawliet made his way towards the ain investiation room, where he had left (Y/N) to continue his work, so none of the progress was lost.

Not forgetting any manners, he knocked, signaling that someone would come in and not startle them. “Oh, you’re back.”, their angelic like voice greeted the male. “Yeah, though it’s now you’re turn for a break, it’s time to wrap things up.”

Swallowing his build up lumb which seemed to sit tight above his adams apple, he stood straight, expression not changing: “Would you want to go out with me?”

Turning around swiftly, (H/C) hair danced around their pretty head in the process as their eyes widened and cheeks reddened.

“There is this pretty nice café down the block.”, he said.

Seeing them smile set her at ease, nodding (Y/N) only laughed, “Sure, L. Let’s go.”

Turning off the computers, (Y/N) stood up to join L’s side and walk down the hall towards the elevator. Smiling the whole way towards the Café and while being with him, (Y/N) couldn’t be happier.

Happy that Misa had come with her obnoxiously loud voice, gaining (Y/N)’s attention on the other side of the door and happy that the whole building is bugged.

No, they didn’t neglect their work- (Y/N) did monitor the fottage, though L did not necessarily mention which one. 

Just like spring had brought the most wonderful flowers, a relationship blossoming would soon follow up.

[whimsicallyreading]

“I just realized I’m desperately in love with you-“

Prompt Day One for Rowaelin Month

~

"Rowan, take a picture of that one. It's so cute." Aelin fawns quietly.

Rowan gives a long-suffering sigh. "There are a thousand of them here. Do you have to pester me into taking a picture of every seal pup we come across?"

"Her name is Fleetfoot, and yes. Isn't that the whole reason we are here?" Aelin looks at him equally annoyed, a strand of gold spun hair freeing itself from beneath her parka.

"I'm here to study the behavioral patterns of tiger seals and orcas in a rapidly shifting environment. You are here to keep our equipment functioning. If you keep talking, neither of us will finish our jobs and escape from this wasteland." Rowan switches the lens of his camera to focus on two male seals who were squaring up with each other in the distance.

Rowan nearly threw his camera over the boat and jumped off into the coastal waters of Argentina when he realized who had been assigned to assist him on this expedition.

He'd insisted that only he and one other make the trek across the Antarctic. Insisting a large group could impede the quality of his research. When they agreed, Rowan thought they would send him with Lorcan or Brullo. Both were accomplished survivalists and scholars—valuable additions to any team.

Instead, it was Aelin Ashryvver who waited for him at the dock. The most annoying newbie on his floor. Dorian insisted that her knowledge of mechanical engineering would make her invaluable.

So far, she was just a verifiable pain in his ass.

She sat around bored as Rowan spent the day writing notes and snapping photos. Occasionally she helped him set up microphones. On one instance, she fixed their ATV. It was the first and only time he'd found her truly useful.

Rowan couldn't wait to go home.

"Alright, we have the cameras positioned. We should head back to the base. The temps are dropping. We need to warm up and eat."

Aelin nods quietly, she would never admit it, but the severe temperatures are taking a toll on her. It was amazing how important something like fat is in a frigid environment. Rowan is naturally covered in layers of dense muscle. While Aelin is fit herself, she's still small and the first to feel the effects of persistent cold.

Watching the seals, she occasionally found herself jealous of their thick layers of blubber that kept them comfortable. She should have carb-loaded before they set sail.

They hop on the snow ski and traverse quickly over the powderlike substance.

~~~

When they reach the Terresen South Pole station and ditch their coats, they fall to the floor in a cascade of flurries. Rowan's spine straightens for the first time that day. Their coats were dense. With the additional weight of all of the equipment he carried, there was a perpetual bend in his spine.

It was a huge relief to be inside a climate-controlled building—light layers, freedom movement, and feeling in all of his extremities. Tossing that coat off was the pinnacle of his daily routine on this mission.

That is until he realized it was freezing.

Walking over to a light switch with urgency, he flicks it a few times. Nothing happens. Anxiety wells in his gut, and he hits the wall a couple of times before flipping the switch again.

"Shit," Rowan hisses.

"The power is out," Aelin's eyes widen with the realization. "That's not good."

"I thought I was the scientist, but look at you stating the obvious," Rowan growls as he shrugs his jacket back on. It wasn't nearly as frigid inside the insulated building as it was outside, but it was still bitterly cold. Keeping warm would be their first step in survival. Without heat, shit could hit the fan for them very quickly. Thankfully their satellite phones should still be functioning; he'd charged the battery the day before. There should be enough juice in the phones to send out a mayday call even without power.

Aelin doesn't put on her jacket. Instead, she heads in the direction of the lockers with a look of determination plastered on her face. It was a look he'd slowly begun to grow familiar with, mainly when Rowan was holding a ration packet she wanted. It made him uneasy.

"Where are you going?" Rowan calls after her, picking up her jacket. He wouldn't be held responsible for his younger, female partner freezing to death. HR at the University would have his head on a stick if she died on his watch.

He follows Aelin to her locker, where she's already sliding a grey jumpsuit over her clothes.

"I can fix the engines," Aelin pulls her zipper up. The jumpsuit covered head-to-toe, but they weren't nearly as warm as their snow gear. He could already see a slight blue-ish tint to her lips. "They probably just stalled. All I need to do is go down, diagnose the problem, and fix it. Easy as pie."

Ignoring the massive oversimplification of their situation, knowing it was a lost cause, he focuses on the immediate problem. "You need to keep your jacket on," Rowan thrusts the article of clothing at her. Her color was concerning him, and the longer she went without the thermal garment, the higher his stress became.

Aelin gives him a long-suffering look, all too similar to the one he gives her. "And get my hood or a sleeve caught in one of those beasts? Those machines are massive. Getting snagged could rip my arm off or kill me. It's like you don't even have a master's in engineering and a spotless safety record," she smiles at Rowan's scowling face. "Oh wait, that's me. Let me do my job, Dr. Whitethorn."

Before Rowan could argue, Aelin was gone down the stairwell towards the engines.

Dragging a frustrated hand through his hair, he tosses her jacket on the floor. His time is probably better spent getting through to their mission handlers on the satellite phones anyway.

~~~

Two hours later, Rowan has long finished his call with Dorian.

Their expedition leader had asked if they wanted a recovery team sent out to them, but Rowan hesitated. He was on the mission of a lifetime. He'd spent years waiting for approval to research at the southernmost tip of the world. It would be a devastating blow to his career and his pride for it to be cut short. The selfish part of him wanted to stay. The rationale, reasonable part of him was aching to stay the full duration of the expedition.

"You know, Dr. Whitethorn," Dorian spoke carefully. "There is a reason we chose Aelin to accompany you. She may be green and lacking a doctorate, but she's a miracle worker at what she does."

"Are you asking me to put my life in the newbie's hands?" Rowan asked without his standard vitriol. The situation and the cold had left him with no energy to be spiteful. He'd heard talk of her capabilities amongst the guys, and he'd seen a fraction of it when their snowmobile broke down. Rowan thinks back to the look on her face when she'd gone down the stairs. The steely determination of a warrior marching off to do battle.

Dorian laughs as if there was something funny about two of his most stubborn colleagues getting stranded in the south pole by themselves. "I'm not asking you to do anything. It's your call."

Rowan closes his eyes and contemplates their options. His head told him they should call the extraction team before they were nothing but frozen corpses. Yet, his heart didn't want to leave so soon. There was still so much work left to do.

Could he rely on Aelin?

"We will stay for now. Expect a call in twenty-four hours with a progress update." Rowan disconnected the transmission without any of the standard formalities.

After the fruitless call, he checks their food supply. Rowan scans the shelves, comfortable they wouldn't go hungry any time soon. Their only concern would be keeping all their shit from freezing, including their water. Rowan triple checks that everything is insulated, sealed, and stored away before moving on to other essentials, like batteries.

Another hour passes as he takes inventory, and Rowan is starting to feel the cold more than before. His nailbeds slowly shift from blue to white beneath his thick gloves, and he can't control the slight quaking spreading up his limbs.

When Rowan hears the doorway to the stairwell creak, he goes to check in with Aelin on her progress.

What he finds when he opens the locker room door sends his heart to his throat.

Aelin's hands loosely grip the zipper of her jumpsuit as she weakly attempts to free herself. Her face is a ghostly white, and her movements sluggish.

If she weren't moving, he'd have thought she was already frozen.

"Aelin, are you good? Talk to me." Rowan rushes to her and helps Aelin step out from the jumpsuit.

"I fixed the engine," Aelin coughs into the crook of her arm, her voice scratchy from the cool air. "It will be a couple of hours before they can catch up and heat the building."

Rowan rips off a glove and holds a bare hand to her cheek. Aelin's skin is freezing to the touch, even to his own icy hands. He notes that she isn't trembling the same way he is. It's not a good sign, the biologist in him notes. He knows it's her body growing too weak to keep itself warm.

"Sit down. You're freezing," Rowan helps her slide to the floor and looks at the discarded jacket that's still lying there. It won't warm her quick enough.

"Rowan?" Aelin speaks from her slightly slumped position.

Rowan is pacing, trying to think. They don't have a means of warming water for a bath. Laying next to the generators is too risky.

"Rowan," Aelin murmurs, her eyes drooping. "I can't feel my feet."

Rowan looks at her, and for a moment, she looks like an ice princess. Her blond hair is slipping from its braid and coiling across her colorless face. The cerulean blue of her eyes was the brightest color he now saw regularly beside the southern lights. They stood out even more starkly now.

It was all wrong.

"It's going to be alright, Aelin. You said the power is back on?" Rowan lifts her into his arms, her freezing nose burrowing into the crook of his neck.

"Yeah," she rasps against his shoulder. "But it will take a while for the building to heat."

"We don't need the whole building to heat. Do you trust me?" Rowan trots down the hall, careful not to bump her against the narrow doorframes.

She mumbles something incoherent into his shirt. "I trust you."

Rowan is thankful that the cold keeps the flush from his face. He reaches the desired room and fiddles with the control panel on the wall. A wave of relief hits him as the room behind the heavy door audibly hums to life.

"Okay, here we go." He says more to himself than Aelin. Rowan ditches the jacket and pulls his long-sleeved tee over his head. The buttons of his pants are next, leaving him in only his boxers.

Turning around, Aelin looks weary but not surprised. "Nice abs."

"Thanks," He says and kneels next to her, eyes searching her face for permission.

Aelin dips her head, "I'm not shy, Whitethorn. Don't fret."

Rowan helps Aelin maneuver her stiff limbs out of her garments until she is left in nothing but her bra and panties. Her face is pained as even more of her is exposed to the cold.

"Hurts," Aelin grits through her teeth, and Rowan gathers her up again. The icy room is like barbs against his exposed skin, but he's not in a position to complain.

The minute he carries her into the balmy air of the sauna, Aelin flinches. "Oh, that smarts."

"I know. It's going to suck for a bit while your blood recirculates." Rowan consoles softly, knowing he would also feel the cramping as they got their blood moving.

Drastic temperatures changes weren't the ideal way to warm up, but they'd spent far too long in the cold. He needed to get Aelin shivering again. It was the body's natural defense against the cold, and when a person could no longer shiver, it meant they were dipping into the realm of hypothermia.

The sauna was an added addition for the comfort of the researchers who visited the Southern base. It was a great tool to warm people after spending hours in the harsh climate. He'd heard tales of it from colleagues who'd visited the base before but hadn't yet saught to use it himself. Rowan was too focused on the mission. It hadn't carried any appeal for him until this moment, and now he was beyond grateful for its existence.

Rowan sits on the floor instead of the bench so that Aelin can curl up comfortably in his lap. Skin-to-skin contact was one of the best ways to help a person regulate their body temperature. He soothes a calloused hand over the length of her arm, trying to spread what remained of his warmth to her skin.

Aelin's cheek rests against his chest, and Rowan uses one hand to free her hair from its braid. The curtain of gold fans across her back, and he has to resist the urge to run his fingers through its waves.

He'd noticed how beautiful she was the day they first met at the university. Out of respect, he'd immediately repressed those thoughts. They were professionals, and Rowan wasn't about to ruin his reputation fawning over the new, young blonde on their floor.

But with her laying half-naked in his lap, it was hard to disregard how pretty she was. It wasn't even just her appearance. The girl was magnetic in every way. People paid attention when she walked in, and she claimed the lion's share of air in the room.

Fenrys and Conall flirted with her remorselessly. It secretly irked him. Rowan had long since memorized the way she laughed and how she'd smile as she shoed them away. It was all good-natured fun for them, but it always made Rowan irrationally angry. The time she'd showed up at the annual Christmas party in a green velvet dress with an open back nearly left his brain on the floor. His eyes had raked the smooth plains of skin, only turning away when she'd tried to catch his eye.

If he'd been paying attention, he would have seen her look of disappointment.

Rowan had written it off as an infatuation—a natural response to seeing an attractive woman. The scientist in him wanted to boil it down to chemistry and hormones. Cold facts that could diagnose the way he felt every time he laid eyes on her. Yet, as Rowan laid there with a hurting Aelin in his arms, he began to wonder if there was something more.

Her pain was making his chest physically ache.

A pair of arms snaked around his waist, and his body jerked. Aelin looks up at him sheepishly. "Sorry, I'm just really comfortable."

Rowan relaxes, "It's fine."

The steam in the room is slowly building. Rowan can feel the cramping beginning in his legs. Aelin's weight on his thighs was not helping the slightest, but there was no way in hell he'd move her.  

"My body is aching," Aelin says lightly, but he can hear the strain in her voice and feel a slight tremble running through her.

"That's good. Can you feel your feet?" Rowan can no longer resist, and her hair parts between his fingers like strands of gold silk.

Aelin tightens her arms around him, "Yeah. A bit. I didn't realize how numb they got until I took off my boots."

There's a slight tickle at his back, Aelin's finger tracing a pattern against his skin. A flush of warmth rushes through him, not from the sauna.

He's in unending deep shit.

"Aelin," his voice wavers uncharacteristically. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

The fingers on his back continue making their delicate patterns. "No."

"Aelin?" He asks again, but she cuts him off with a groan.

"Stop asking me questions and just kiss me," Aelin grips the back of his head and pulls his lips down to her's.

An inferno blooms inside his soul.

Aelin could never be a winter queen. She was the raging embodiment of summer. A burning ember he'd carried from the north into this land of ice. As his lips move against hers, he swears his body is lit ablaze, and when Rowan opens his eyes, he's delighted at the flush he finds unfurling across her cheeks.

"It's suddenly a lot warmer." Aelin laughs, looking more lively even as her body starts to quake from the warmth finally reaching her.

He kisses her cheek and tilts her ear towards his lips, "Aelin?"

"Another question?" Aelin's smile curls into something feline. "Is this that scientific curiosity the university is always going on about?"

"I just realized I'm desperately in love with you,"

Rowan lets the truth fall from his lips. It was just the two of them. They were the only human souls in this far corner of the earth. There was no one to stop him as he finally lets the emotions he'd been repressing until the moment Aelin was in danger wash over him.

"That's not a question," Aelin responds after a moment, her tone light and jovial.

Rowan smiles. "It's not."

Aelin curls back up against Rowan, enjoying the feel of his skin against hers. An embarrassing sound of contentment escapes her, which worsens her blush.

Not forgetting their original purpose in the sauna, Rowan grips her hands and massages them between his. "You have no response?"

"Not one that HR is going to like." Aelin winces as her hand spasms, and Rowan methodically works to ease the ache.

"Say it anyway," Rowan implores. Screw the university. He was tired of living for his work alone. Nothing outshined this moment, holding this woman in his arms. He could find a new job, but if Aelin reciprocated his feelings, he couldn't find another one of her.

"Well, I thought it was pretty obvious when I wore that dress to the Christmas party and then found a reason to walk past your office every day." Aelin huffs and looks up at him, "Don't tell me you didn't know?"

Rowan was speechless.

Aelin's eyes twinkle with amusement. "Rowan, Dorian, and I are friends. Did you know that?"

"What?" Rowan blinks confusedly. That was common knowledge, but he didn't understand why she was bringing that up now.

"Dorian and I go way back. He knew I had a thing for you, and I told him sending me on this trip was unethical when I'm such a new hire-" Aelin trails off, waiting for him to grasp her point.

"Wait," Rowan looks down at her, bemused. "Dorian was trying to set us up?"

"Human recourses won't like that very much either," Aelin grins. "But Dorian would keep our secret. He owes me a lot of favors."

The sauna's temperature had slowly been rising, and Rowan could see that his skin was returning to its usual color. Aelin still looked a bit pale, but it was probably residuals from being so close to freezing.

She'd risked herself to save the expedition and successfully fixed the engines. Rowan didn't believe for one second that Dorian only sent her in an elaborate attempt to set her up. She was bright and cunning. He was lucky to have her along with him.

"You got here on your merit," Rowan presses a soft peck to her lips as he soothes her unvoiced concern. He refused to let her doubt her level of skill. "But if the feelings are mutual, I would love to take you on a date when we get back home?"

"I would love that," Aelin crawls off his lap and holds a hand out. "Come on, now. We need to eat and sleep. We have seals to observe."

Rowan accepted her hand. Forget the seals. He would have a difficult time keeping his attention on them. His eyes were glued to her bare legs as they moved and the way her hair swung free of its constraints.

She smirked over his shoulder. Aelin knew precisely what she was doing to him.

Rowan had traversed to the end of the world to understand the natural universe a little better. While he hadn't unlocked any great mysteries, he couldn't help but think what he did find was better.

[jimlingss]

(sorry my tumblr app glitched so im not sure if this was sent twice) taking a chance for the requests! how about a seokjin or namjoon arranged marriage au with this: “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.” 🎄 happy holidays!!

↳ Playground Promises

1.9k || 100% Light Fluff || Kim Seokjin

The bell rings.

Moments later, children are sprinting from the doors and flooding the playground. You watch in fondness as some climb the monkey bars while others sit and dig into the sandbox. All of them were forging their first friendships they’ll remember forever and you were their witness.

This is one of your favourite times of day. You enjoy seeing the kids have their fun, listening to their laughter and giggles, watching their games of tag to play pretend. But today, your enjoyment is interrupted by a certain male teacher that comes to stand behind you.

Tall. Dark. And handsome. His broad shoulders carry the weight of the third-grade class and practically the entire elementary school. But you’d never admit that out loud.

“It’s a bit chilly out today. You should’ve brought your coat with you.”

You hum.

Every staff member, married and single, swoons over Kim Seokjin. It’s hard not to. But if others knew what your relationship was with him, you’re sure you’d never hear the end of it. The kids would make a big fuss and so would all the staff and faculty, and you’d rather avoid that.

“I didn’t know you were on playground duty today.”

“I switched with Sana,” he says and leans over to smile. “Thought you could use some company.”

You scoff. “She’s perfectly fine company.”

The corner of his plump lip pulls. “If you want to talk about the mathletes program. And I’m pretty sure you don’t.”

Before you can respond, a boy approaches the two of you with pink cheeks and wind-swept hair. “Mr. Kim, can I go to the bathroom?” the third-grader asks in the midst of catching his breath and the older man nods.

“Go ahead. But don’t run in the hallway, Lucas.” 

Said boy grins and dashes off.

Seokjin turns to you and lowers his voice. “My mom’s been asking about the kids.”

Your brows furrow. “Why? They’re a good bunch.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t mean your class’ kids, I mean our kids.”

You blink owlishly. “There are no our kids.”

“That’s the problem.”

You sigh and roll your eyes. “Wasn’t getting married enough for them?”

Seokjin shrugs with a faint, mischievous smile. “They want to go out for brunch with your parents this Sunday. Are you free?”

“When am I not free?” you retort lightly, but slip your phone out of your pocket to check your calendar anyhow. Seokjin glances over to your screen and once you finish, you slip it back into your pocket. “I have some marking to do, but I’ll probably finish by then.”

“Okay.” The pair of you turn back to continue monitoring the children playing and you’re glad to revel in the silence that’s been created between you. But after a beat, Kim Seokjin pipes up again. You don’t know why you’re surprised. He’s quite the talkative guy. “Hey, Y/N.”

You look over and he meets your eye.

He asks, “Am I your lock screen?”

Your face heats. If you were once cold, now you were warm from head to toe. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” you mumble. It was just a picture from the other day and you wanted to change things up on your phone. You had nothing else to use. It was convenient. That’s it.

Your entire relationship with him is built on convenience. At least...on his side it is.

Still, Seokjin grins and fortunately, he doesn’t tease.

You rush to change the subject. “A-Anyway, yeah, Sunday works for me. But we should probably talk about this after work.”

“Why? No one’s around.” His smile is spread from ear to ear and he leans in, whispering, “Are you that scared of people finding out we’re married?”

Immediately, you whip your head in all directions. Luckily, there’s no kid or nosy faculty member. You turn back to him, glaring. “I already said, I like to keep my private life under wraps.”

“I remember. But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were embarrassed of me.”

You scoff and a murmur unintentionally spills out of you, “That’s impossible.”

You don’t notice Seokjin’s smile.

It’s been three months since you got married. It was a summer wedding. More importantly, it was an arranged marriage. And not because you were both wealthy and needed to be wedded to get the inheritance under some arbitrary contract rule or because it was your grandmother’s dying wish. No. You live a much more mundane, normal life than the dramas, movies and books.

It was your mom who threw a fuss. She was scared you’d be alone and unmarried, an old maid like your aunt — you didn’t say it, she just heavily implied it. But following her practically senile meltdown, you agreed. Partly to appease her worries and partly just out of curiosity.

You always wanted to get married. And deep down, you always wanted your own kids. But at the rate you were going, you had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to meet someone on your own.

What you didn’t expect on that blind date was for the other person to be Kim Seokjin, third grade teacher. Down the hall from you at the school. Someone across the room every lunchtime. Your dads were apparently long time colleagues, but Jin was still as equally shocked as you were during that first meeting. Yet, he easily agreed to getting married when you brought it up. Even when it was only after two months of occasionally seeing one another outside of your workplaces.

You still don’t know why he said yes.

“Ms. L/N!”

You’re torn out of your trance by a little girl at your knees. 

She pouts. “Jennie won’t let me play on the slide!”

“Did you ask her to share?”

“Yes!”

Before any more can be said, she drags you over and Seokjin trails after you. There’s another girl with brown braided hair climbing on the slide, and she swivels her head over as the two of you approach, eyes the size of saucers. 

“Are you taking turns, Jennie?” you ask her, and she vigorously nods.

“I am!”

“Well, you’ve been on it for a while. How about Lisa takes a turn next.”

“Okay,” she draws out and gets off of the slide before turning to her friend. “Here you go.”

It’s always little problems you have to solve — from sharing to knee scrapes and monkey bar accidents. Sometimes it’s difficult for the children to compromise, difficult for them to apologize and difficult for you to find a good solution. But you undoubtedly wish your own issues were this simple.

While you’re stuck in your thoughts, you miss Jin watching you fondly. 

“You’re good with kids,” he says as you move out of the way of running children and walk back to the perimeter.

“I wouldn’t be doing this job if I wasn’t. But I deal with older kids much better.” There’s a reason you teach fifth graders and not any lower than that. Seokjin knows it too.

“Remember when we had to supervise that kindergarten class together?”

You shudder. “It was a nightmare.”

“You weren’t that bad,” he tries to say but then laughs. You feign a glare, and he adds on, “Okay. I’m sorry, but I still mean it. It’s not as terrible as you thought. You’d make a good mom.” 

At that, your glare vanishes in favour of furrowing brows. You really shouldn’t, but you can’t help it when curiosity pries — so you break your own rule against discussing private matters at work. 

“Do you want my kids?”

Seokjin is wide-eyed and he turns to you. “Why not? We’re married.”

“Yeah….but…”

“But? Do you not want kids?” 

“No! I definitely want them,” you declare, almost a bit too boldly. He nods and you explain, “It’s just...I don’t know if you’re serious.”

Seokjin blinks. “I’m being perfectly serious.”

“I mean I don’t know if we’re serious.” You add, “Enough to have kids.”

“What’s more serious than being married?” Jin has a genuinely inquisitive and amused expression, head quirked to the side. 

You inhale a sharp breath and his gaze coaxes you to go on, so you do. “It’s just that you agreed so quickly to be married to me. It doesn’t….feel real. I don’t know if you wanted to marry me, if you did it on a whim, if this is some kind of joke—”

He frowns. “This isn’t a joke, Y/N. I wanted to marry you.”

Your mouth hangs open. Your eyes are rounded.

“Wh—”

“Mrs. L/N!” You’re interrupted by your fifth-grader, Park Jimin. He sprints to you, huffing and puffing, before leaning his hands onto his knees to catch his breath. “Have you seen Taehyung?! We’re playing tag!”

“No, I haven’t.”

Jin suddenly points to the left. “He went that way.”

Jimin books it.

Silence fills the spaces between you and Seokjin again, but it isn’t like normal. It’s filled with unanswered questions and the suspenseful cliffhanger of an unfinished conversation. The laughter of kids on the playground and field resound around you, but for the first time, you don’t listen to it. 

It fades into the background as you turn to Seokjin, wanting to know more. “What did you just say?”

The man smiles softly. “You have to know.”

“I don’t,” you assert. “So tell me.”

“I’ve always liked you.”

You blink and he continues, “Since you substituted for the art teacher and I saw you squirt red paint all over yourself. It’s something I couldn’t forget. Plus, the way you draw those stick people.” Seokjin laughs heartily and you’re trapped in your spot, unsure of how to react or what to say. He reads your expression and softens. “Did you really think I would rush into a marriage if I didn’t have feelings for you?”

“I…” Your mouth is agape. “I don’t know. Why did we never talk about this?”

Seokjin shrugs. “You never asked and I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable if you didn’t feel the same way. I knew you married me for convenience.”

“That’s not true,” you retort within a beat. This whole time, you thought he married you for convenience sake. But it wasn’t entirely like that for you.

Seokjin’s eyes are big and you swallow down your embarrassment. “Isn’t it obvious every single breathing person loves you? It’s hard not to.”

Slowly but surely, a grin spreads into Seokjin’s puffy cheeks and he’s smiling from ear to ear again. “Well, you’re very good at hiding it then.”

Suddenly, the bell rings.

All the children reluctantly climb off the equipment, some dusting their hands while others grabbing their friends, and they rush into their lineups. There’s a few stranglers lugging their legs while groaning. But busy in their small playground worlds, no one turns around to notice you leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to Seokjin’s mouth. It’s shy and brief, like the first peck exchanged between two for the first time. And you pull away just as fast, lips left tingling.

“We can continue this later, Mr. Kim.”

You stride off while Seokjin’s left smiling. After a breathless moment, he chases after you like children who have just made promises of their first love on the playground.