#and just understand and are there for each other is so

[tizeline]

TSAU!Donnie's Ninpō Explained!

The first ability Donnie unlocks is the ability to see mystic energy! Objects or people with with mystic energy has this colourful glowing aura you could call it, the more mystic energy the more brightly is glows. For example - Mikey already has a very bright aura naturally, which becomes even brighter when he is actively using magic! ..... All of this is to say, Donnie found that out the hard way when he used his mystic sight on Mikey when he was using magic and Donnie as a result got a little bit fucking blinded!

All yōkai and mutants are naturally mystic in nature, they always have a visable aura because of that. Humans are not mystic, so they don't have that aura. HOWEVER! Humans can learn how to use magic through certain means like, y'know, Ninpō for example! When a human uses magic, they do have mystic aura, but only while actively using mystic powers.

(Also Donnie totally accidentally discovered that the "teapot" had bad vibes because his mystic sight lol)

After a while Donnie is able to start making constructs out of his Ninpō. Initially however, he can't really form complex designs, it's mostly just blocks and walls, very simplistic shapes. But it turns out he can use these simpler constructs as effective shields! Which is good considering his soft shell as well as the fact that his battle shell in the AU wasn't built to be used as armour. Both he and April gets a lot of use out of the extra defense.

With quite a bit of practice Donnie is able to actually generate specific and more complex designs! Which means that yes, to the horror of friend and foe alike, Donnie can and will summon an entire arsenal of firepower, yikes. He's not limited to firearms though, he's able to generate all kinds of technology and machinery (drill!!!!)

To create these mystic contructs, it does require Donnie to have a good understanding of what it looks like, how it functions, etc. His imagination and his knowledge of technology are what sets a lot of the limits on what he is able to create, if he can build it in his lab then he can build it with his Ninpō. This particular ability requires a lot complex thought, if Donnie wasn't so smart he wouldn't be able to pull it off as well as he does.

Another limitation is that maintaining the contsructs is very energy-consuming, he'll quickly exhaust himself if he keeps them around. He'll usually only summon constructs very briefly for an attack and then immedietly dismiss them.

The way that Donnnie's Ninpō manifests itself is already very technology-oriented, because of that he can interact with ordinary technology through his Ninpō. Personally I haven't figured out the details of what exactly that can look like, but there's definitely a lot of possibilities to explore here.

One thing though, as Donnie's Ninpō grows more and more powerful overtime, a side-effect of that is that if he gets really pissed off or otherwise very emotional, he'll accidentally make the technology in his near viscinity go haywire lmao. (This has the risk of making him even more angry, which just worsens the problem, and so on haha)

I really like the idea of Donnie being the second most powerful mystic user out of his brothers, after Mikey of course. And because he's mostly self-trained, he doesn't have the best understanding of how to properly control his powers, which evidently can become a bit of a problem. Donnie eventually agrees to let Draxum help him get a better grasp on his mystic abilities after the Hamatos and the Draxums become more friendly with each other.

So uh. About how Donnie kinda accidentally infused Shelldon with mystic energy while creating him which caused the robot to develop a kind of soul? Yeah so because of that Shelldon's mystic energy if linked to Donnie's, which means that Shelldon more or less gains access to the same abilities as Donnie does! He's not quite as powerful as Donnie, and he still needs to practice to fully get a grasp on these powers as well. But point is, that's how Shelldon gains acess to Ninpō in the AU! (He also notices their fucked up "teapot")

----------

Anyway that basically summarizes it! A lot of these ideas are headcanons I have for canon!Donnie as well honestly, the AU is just an excuse to explore these concepts. Donnie's ability to summon fucking firearms and military equipment is also something I've thought about, I wanted to try to think how it would work for him while also putting some limitations on it. ANOTHER THING I like the idea of Donnie's tech constructs basically being the same ability as when Raph creates constructs of himself. The difference lies with that Donnie is a massive nerd so his first instinct is to recreate his own tech with the Ninpō. While Raph being someone who is already so physically strong would naturally use his Ninpō to recreate his own greatest weapon, which is himself. (Donnie uses his brain, Raph uses his brawn, who would've guessed)

[monstersholygrail]

In a Free Use City, your knowledge on the subject of your job isn’t always what’s most important. And in your case, it’s the least important. You were actually known as quite a ditz in the Free Use City Offices.

You worked in the tech department surrounded by a bunch of hot and nerdy guys who spoke in yours you couldn’t even begin to understand. You were just happy to be there and they were happy to ogle you and press against you whenever you asked for their help with any simple task.

They thought they had the upper hand on you, thinking they were so clever. But you had them all on a leash. An entire department at your disposal to give you pleasure whenever you wanted.

Your favorite man to bother was IT Robot. He got his work done fast and spent the rest of the day goofing off. The easy air around him made him approachable and the way all his shirts fit snugly against his bulging pecs made you drip with need.

You can’t help but spare him another glance before hesitantly returning your gaze to your own computer, the screen filled with the program you still haven’t figured out. Great, now you were confused and horny.

“Need me for something?” IT Robot’s voice suddenly purrs into your ears. His steel-like grip grabbing onto your plush hips and pulling you back into his hard chest.

His body molds to yours so perfectly it has you tingling all over. Arousal gushing and soaking through your panties. He turns you on so bad even when he barely did anything but it was like your body was out of control. As if it could be programmed just for him when he was the robot.

“Help… I hurt,” you say with a pout, your mind turning to complete mush whenever you’re around him.

IT Robot flashes you with that charming lopsided smile of his, heavily amused by the puddle you melt into whenever he talks to you.

“Where does it hurt, huh? It hurt here?”

He caresses your soft belly with an appreciation that borders on worship before one hand slips beneath your skirt, nuzzling his fingers between your soaked folds.

“Or here?” He asks while the other gives a little pat on your head.

A low whine escapes your lips as he rolls his fingers over your clit, your hips jerking into the touch. And that’s all it takes to have IT Robot plunging three of his fingers deep into your cunt, making you gasp and tremble in his arms.

“That’s what I thought… Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll fix the issue right away. It’s what I do after all.”

Your vision blurs as you dive into the pleasure head first. Choking out harsh moans as IT Robot’s fingers move inside you with precision like he has an entire map of your pretty pussy printed in his head. His fingers move in a blur as they pump themselves inside you, hitting all the right places that have you seeing stars. Each curl of his fingers sends your pussy fluttering and clenching down around him.

“Squeeze me tight, honey, ngh c’mon! Don’t think about a thing, just focus on being my pretty baby. My good girl.”

His words send the last thoughts in your head flying out the window, reducing you to nothing but his perfect little fuck toy. Your body relaxes without having to worry about a thing, allowing the ecstasy to overwhelm you.

IT Robot chuckles again as that fucked out expression fills your features. He flattens his palm so that it rubs hard against your clit with every snap of his fingers. With a few quick movements it has you falling over the edge and exploding all over his hand. Your vision flashes white as your orgasm rolls through you and you can’t find the strength to move any of your limbs after.

But that’s alright, IT Robot will take care of you, his fingers slipping out of your pulsing cunt with a pop, and giving your temple a soft kiss. He doesn’t bother cleaning up his hand dripping with your cum as he starts typing on your computer, solving the issue with the program you were using, and successfully helping you with both your aches.

“There, there. I’ve got you, pretty. Just keep feelin’ good. All because of me,” he whispers in your ear. Planning to spend the rest of the day doing all your work for you.

[kirammanswifey]

how arcane characters would deal with mental disorders x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: writing this felt like giving myself a warm hug, a comfort that i needed. if anyone reading this is going through or has gone through any of these disorders, i want to tell you that you are very brave because it is not an easy thing, so feel proud of yourself. i hope you liked this as much as i did. as i'm a psychology student, i felt very motivated and i hope that it was quite understandable and enjoyable. as you already know request are open ;)

P.S. i know the other option won in the poll on my profile, but i need more time to refine the ideas and make something high quality that everyone will love, which i’ll be posting tomorrow ;)

Viktor Depression

The world around you feels like a constant weight, a heavy blanket that wraps around you, not letting you breathe. You wake up each day with a sense of emptiness in your chest, as if a black hole is absorbing all your energy, your motivation, your ability to feel anything other than sadness and apathy.

It’s not that you don’t want to get out of bed; it’s that the simple act of moving a finger feels like a titanic task. Fatigue is your constant companion, a shadow that never leaves you. Things that once filled you with joy now seem distant, irrelevant, as if they belonged to a life that is no longer yours.

The dark thoughts are your constant whispers, reminding you that you’re not enough, that it’s all pointless, that there’s no way out. Sometimes, you cry without knowing why; other times, you want to cry, but even that you can’t do. You feel trapped in an invisible prison, with no strength to fight your way out.

Viktor watches you from the doorway of your room, his gaze soft and full of concern. He knows the weight of shadows well, although his are different. Silently, he approaches and sits on the edge of the bed, not invading your space, but close enough for you to feel his presence.

“I have a new project I’m working on,” he says in a quiet voice, trying not to break the fragile bubble of your world. “I thought maybe you could join me today. You don’t have to do anything, just be there. Your company always helps me think.”

He doesn’t pressure you. Viktor understands that words can be hard to find when your mind is clouded by depression. He knows that the solution isn’t to force you to feel better, but to be with you, to offer you a hand, a small step forward.

He gently rises and offers his hand, not expecting you to take it, but hoping that you’ll know he’s there, ready to support you when you’re ready. “The world can wait,” he murmurs. “But I’m here, whenever you want to come back.”

His patience is infinite, his understanding deep. Viktor doesn’t try to fix you, because he doesn’t see you as broken. He knows that depression is a battle you fight every day, and he’s willing to walk alongside you, every small step, every shared silence.

You look at his hand, then his face; he’s concerned even though he tries to hide it. You make a huge effort to get out of bed, and even though your body doesn’t cooperate at first, you manage. You take his hand and gently squeeze it; that’s the most affection you can give him right now, you’re exhausted.

“Let’s go,” you murmur, your voice hoarse and broken; it’s the first time you’ve spoken all day.

You’re sitting next to Viktor in his small workshop, surrounded by pieces of metal and unfinished prototypes. He’s explaining his latest invention, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up his eyes. You feel a little better, enough to enjoy his company, and for a moment, a laugh escapes your lips when you hear one of his stories.

“Did you really say that to Heimerdinger?” you laugh, your eyes shining with a spark of life. It’s a small moment, but for Viktor, it’s like seeing the sun rise after a storm.

He smiles, pleased to have made you laugh. “Yes, and his face... It was certainly indescribable,” he replies with a softness that reflects his pleasure at seeing you enjoy yourself, even if just for an instant.

But suddenly, without warning, the laughter turns into a lump in your throat. The spark of joy fades as quickly as it came, and you find yourself trapped in a wave of overwhelming sadness. The tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you can’t stop them. The confusion in your eyes is evident, as if your body has betrayed the fleeting happiness you just felt.

Viktor notices immediately. He leans toward you, his expression turning serious, but his eyes remain warm and full of understanding. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t seek explanations that may be impossible to give. Instead, he moves a little closer, offering you his silent presence.

“It’s okay,” he says gently, his voice an anchor amidst your internal storm. “You don’t have to explain it. Just breathe.”

He offers you his hand, this time with more intent. You take it, feeling the warmth and firmness in his grip, a reminder that you’re not alone in this moment. You needed that contact. You needed to know that you could feel something other than sadness right now. Viktor doesn’t pull away, doesn’t feel uncomfortable. He knows that depression doesn’t follow rules, that it can strike at any moment, and he’s willing to stay with you, no matter how long it lasts.

“Do you want us to stay here?” he asks, his tone delicate. “Or we can walk a little, if that helps.”

His willingness to adapt to your needs wraps you in a sense of safety. Even though the tears keep falling, Viktor’s presence is a balm, a reminder that, even in the darkest moments, there’s someone who sees you, who understands you, and who’s willing to stay by your side.

“Just... stay here with me,” you say, letting yourself fall against his body, exhausted.

He caught you and wrapped you with care, it was a hug with the right amount of strength.

“Take your time, darling. I won’t go anywhere,” Viktor promised in a whisper, never stopping the caresses on your back.

And that was enough to make you feel less miserable.

Jinx Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

The echo of the explosions still resonates in your mind, even though years have passed since that day when your world crumbled. The night everything you loved was consumed by flames in an attack on the Undercity. The night you lost your family and were left alone, with the screams and the smell of smoke forever etched in your memory.

As you walk beside Jinx through the bustling streets of Zaun, everything seems normal, almost calm, until an explosion in the distance makes your heart stop. It’s a dry, loud sound, far too similar to the one you heard that night. Without warning, your breath becomes shallow, your lungs struggle to take in air, and an overwhelming sense of absolute panic takes hold of you.

Your body freezes, and it feels as if the world around you disappears. The crowd, the lights, even Jinx—all fade away, leaving you alone in that dark place where time doesn’t move. The ground beneath your feet seems to give way, and you feel yourself falling again into that abyss of the past.

"Hey, hey!" Jinx’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind. Her hands grip your shoulders, and her gaze searches for yours with desperation. "You’re not there, do you hear me? You’re here, with me."

Her words feel distant, but the warmth of her hands somehow anchors you, reminding you that you’re not alone. "But... the sound..." you murmur, barely audible, as tears start to fall down your cheeks. "It was the same... the same as that night."

Jinx guides you to a quieter corner, away from the noise, holding your hand firmly. "Breathe, hon, like we always do," she says softly, her voice tinged with controlled urgency. "Fill up those lungs, okay? Like we’re balloons."

You try to follow her instructions, but every time you close your eyes to concentrate, the images of that night hit you with renewed force. "It’s not working," you whisper, trembling. "It’s always there. No matter how much I try, it doesn’t go away. It doesn’t go away!" You scream in panic, the fingers of your hands stiffening, making them immobile.

The worry in Jinx’s eyes softens a little, but there’s something else there, something you can only describe as recognition. "That explosion... it reminded me of something too," she says after a moment, her voice quieter, almost a whisper. "I’ve been there, in that fucked-up place, where the ghosts never stop screaming."

Her words are like a key that opens the door to a deeper understanding.

She falls silent for a moment, gazing into the distance before refocusing her attention on you. "When I have my attacks, you’re always there for me, and I remember I’m not alone. That helps me a lot," she admits, a small, almost sad smile curving her lips. "And you’re not alone either, hon. We’re not broken, just a little bent. And here we are, bent together."

The hug she offers you is warm and firm, a tangible reminder that you’re not alone. You feel her strength, her determination, and something else: her own fear, her own struggle. "You don’t have to fight alone," she whispers, her voice a promise. "If you ever feel like you’re going to fall, we’ll fall together. And then, we’ll rise. Always."

You cling to her like a lifeline, letting her warmth and her words anchor you to the present, if only for a moment. "Thank you, sweets," you whisper, allowing yourself, for the first time in a long time, to feel that it’s okay not to be okay.

Vi Anxiety Disorder

The night drags you into the abyss of your mind, but you find no respite. Instead of waking softly to the day, you're trapped in pure panic. Your chest burns, each breath a lost battle. Your heart gallops wildly, as if trying to escape your chest. You are drenched in sweat, the sheets sticking to your skin, becoming yet another prison.

Your eyes snap open, the darkness of the room seems to close in on you, and the silence is deafening. The sensation of suffocation consumes you. You try to gulp down air, but it's as though your lungs have forgotten how to function. Your hands search for something, anything, to anchor you to reality, but all they find is emptiness.

The door swings open abruptly, and Vi stands there, alert, her eyes filled with concern. She doesn't need to ask what’s wrong; she knows instantly. She moves swiftly but carefully, approaching you without frightening you further.

"Breathe with me," she says gently, her hands finding yours, steady yet comforting. "Inhale through your nose... like this... and exhale through your mouth."

You try to follow her, but your body won’t cooperate. Your breath is shallow, frantic, as though every breath disintegrates before it even reaches your lungs. Tears begin to streak down your cheeks, mixing with the sweat.

"Vi... I can’t... I can't... I’m scared," you stammer, your words broken by sobs. Your mind is caught in a loop of terror, every thought spiraling downward, taking you further away from calm.

Vi sits beside you on the bed, her voice low and constant. "Don’t be afraid. Listen to my voice. I’m here with you, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you." Her tone is firm, anchoring you in the present, pulling you out of the tide of your own fear.

"But it hurts... my chest... I can't breathe..." Your body trembles, and your hands clutch desperately at her grasp. The feeling of control slipping away is overwhelming, leaving you feeling helpless.

Vi pulls you into an embrace, holding you close, offering her calm, her strength. "This is temporary. It won’t last forever," she whispers in your ear. "Trust me. Focus on me."

Slowly, very slowly, her voice cuts through the fog of your mind. You begin to breathe more deeply, following her rhythm, feeling how her presence stabilizes you, like a lighthouse in the storm. The pain in your chest begins to lessen, the pressure relents just a little, and your body starts to remember how to breathe without fighting.

Vi continues to speak, her voice a soft murmur, calming you with every word. "You’re strong. You have control, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now."

The tears still flow, but now they are tears of relief, not fear. "Don’t leave... don’t leave. I need you here," you whisper, your voice broken but sincere.

Vi strokes your hair, her other hand gently squeezing yours. "I’m not going anywhere, little doe," she says affectionately, kissing your forehead, tasting the salty remnants of your sweat.

You remain in her arms a moment longer, allowing yourself to rest, letting her strength hold you as you regain your own. Gradually, the panic fades, leaving only exhaustion and the certainty that Vi will always be by your side, no matter how dark the nights may get.

Caitlyn Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD)

The silence in the apartment is deafening. The only sound that breaks the stillness is the relentless ticking of the wall clock, its rhythm echoing in your ears like a hammer. You’re in the kitchen, eyes fixed on the glasses you’ve meticulously arranged in the cupboard. Each glass must be perfectly spaced, each one aligned to the exact same level. Symmetry isn’t just a preference—it’s a necessity. If something is out of place, you feel as though the whole world could collapse.

Your breathing is uneven, your chest rising and falling in quick succession. "One, two, three..." you murmur to yourself, counting each movement. Your hands tremble, but you can’t stop. You can’t stop. If you do, something terrible will happen. You don’t know what, but the certainty that it will be catastrophic clings to you like a shadow.

Caitlyn enters the apartment after a long day at work. Her expression shifts instantly when she sees you in the kitchen, trapped in your own ritual. She stops in the doorway, watching you with a mix of concern and sadness. It’s not the first time she’s found you like this, but each time, it hurts her as though it were.

"Darling?" Her voice is soft, as if afraid to shatter you. She steps closer, carefully setting her hat down on the table. "What are you doing?"

You don’t answer at first, your eyes still fixed on the glasses. "Almost done... just a few more minutes," you whisper, your voice trembling. You can’t stop. Every glass moved, every small adjustment is a battle between reason and irrational fear.

Caitlyn stops beside you, her eyes scanning the scene, seeing the perfect pattern you’ve created. "You don’t have to do this," she says gently, yet firmly.

Your hands freeze for a moment, but the urge to continue is too strong. "You don’t understand... if I don’t do it right, if they’re not perfectly aligned, something bad is going to happen." Tears begin to well up in your eyes, the pressure in your chest intensifying. "I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, but it’s like my mind... it can’t stop."

Caitlyn takes a deep breath, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder delicately. "You’re not crazy," she says, locking eyes with you. "I know this is hard, that your mind doesn��t give you peace. But you don’t have to face it alone. Let me help you."

You turn to look at her, your eyes filled with desperation. "I can’t stop, Cait. If I do, I feel like everything will fall apart. I can’t control what’s happening inside my head."

Caitlyn nods slowly, her gaze unwavering from yours. "I know, darling. And I know this won’t be fixed in a day. But I’m here, and I’m going to stay by your side. We’ll face it together."

Her words anchor you, a beacon in the storm that is your mind. Slowly, almost against your will, your hands begin to lower, moving away from the glasses. The fear is still there, a current running just beneath the surface, threatening to overwhelm you, but Caitlyn is beside you, her presence a reminder that you’re not alone.

"Breathe with me," she says, her voice soft and steady. "Inhale... exhale... together."

You follow her instructions, though your lungs seem to resist, full of anxiety. Caitlyn guides you, her hand never leaving your shoulder. "See? We’re doing it! You’re doing it!" She encourages, kissing your neck when she notices you’ve looked away from the glasses for five seconds. It was only five seconds, but Caitlyn knew it was a huge accomplishment, and she celebrated it.

You let out a small sigh, the tension in your muscles easing slightly. Your hands travel to Caitlyn’s waist, moving her so the glasses are no longer in your line of sight. You let your head fall against her chest, breathing in her scent. It’s so much better, especially when you start counting the beats of her heart.

"How brave my wonderful and glorious girlfriend is. I’m so proud of you," she whispered, her fingers weaving through your hair as she praised you.

"Cait, I love you so much. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me," you whisper against her warm chest, unwilling to leave that comforting refuge.

Caitlyn chuckles softly, and it feels like music to your ears.

"I feel the same way, darling," Caitlyn replied, gently swaying your bodies from side to side in a small rhythm.

You know that your compulsions won’t disappear, that the need for control will remain, but with Caitlyn, you feel like you can face it one day at a time.

Jayce Narcissistic Personality Disorder

The mirror in your room is your judge, jury, and executioner. Every imperfection is a sentence, every flaw a conviction. You spend hours in front of it, adjusting, retouching, trying to reach a perfection that always seems to slip through your fingers. Your heart beats fast, not from excitement, but from the constant fear that the world will see the cracks beneath your flawless facade.

Jayce enters quietly, his presence comforting and, at the same time, a threat. What will he think? Does he notice the imperfections you see? He steps closer, his gaze soft, but you feel the weight of his eyes as if he's scrutinizing every flaw.

"Love, it's late. Come to bed," he says in a calm voice, trying to distract you from your self-destructive spiral.

"Just one more moment," you reply without looking at him, your focus still on the mirror, searching for symmetry in your features, perfection in the unattainable.

Jayce sits on the edge of the bed, watching you. "You've been here for hours. You don't have to do this. You're beautiful just as you are."

His statement, though well-intentioned, feels like a white lie. "You don’t understand, Jayce," you murmur, your voice trembling with suppressed frustration. "If I’m not perfect, I’m nobody. I can’t let them see my flaws. I can't let… you see them."

Jayce stands, walking toward you carefully, as if approaching a flickering flame. "You don’t have to be perfect to be loved," he says, his words a whisper in the storm raging in your mind. "You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all to me."

Your gaze finally meets his through the reflection. Tears fight their way out, but you can't allow such weakness. "It's not that simple," you whisper. "Every day, every look, every word, it’s all a test. And if I fail…"

Jayce places his hands on your shoulders, his eyes filled with compassion and infinite patience. "If you fail, I’ll be here to lift you up."

"And what if I’m not enough?" The question slips out before you can stop it, the insecurity behind your narcissism showing in all its rawness. "What if one day you realize you deserve something better?"

Jayce leans in, his forehead touching yours, a gesture so intimate it almost breaks you. "I deserve someone who loves me for who I am, not for what I pretend to be. And that’s exactly what you are to me. I don’t have impossible expectations of you. I just want you to be happy, to find peace in who you are."

The internal struggle within you is fierce. The fear of rejection, the desire for perfection, the need to be seen and admired, all mix together in a whirlwind that consumes you. But in Jayce's arms, for a moment, the noise silences. His love is not a chain, but a refuge, one that offers rest if only you can let yourself fall into it.

"How can you be so sure?" you ask, your voice broken but curious.

"Because I love you," he answers without hesitation. "And love isn’t about waiting for perfection. It’s about accepting every part of you, even the ones you think are flaws."

The tears finally make their way out, releasing something within you that has been held back for so long. Jayce holds you as you cry, whispering words of comfort, letting all the pressure, fear, and anguish flow out of you.

"You’re perfect," you whisper, your voice cracked but full of sincerity. In your mind, Jayce is the epitome of everything you don’t believe you are: strong, confident, unshakable.

Jayce smiles softly, his hand caressing your cheek, wiping away the tears still falling. "No, I’m just a man in love. A man who loves you madly." His voice is warm, filled with a tenderness that disarms you. "Why don’t you show me that precious smile of yours? Please, it would make me so happy."

His sweet words touch your heart, and the corners of your lips stretch on their own, forming a sad smile.

"Gorgeous," Jayce murmured, caressing your lips with his strong, calloused fingers.

"Flatterer," you reply with a more elaborate smile, your eyes still wet, but now with a different shine, one that reflects the spark of hope he’s ignited in you.

"I’m just stating facts. I’m a scientist, honey, so I can tell you that, from my perspective, it’s scientifically proven that you’re gorgeous," he commented wryly, a wit that made you laugh.

Jayce smiled and kissed your forehead, holding you firmly in his arms. Finally, you feel like you can breathe, like air is filling your lungs again without that constant weight on your chest.

Ekko Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)

The room is silent except for the soft hum of music playing in the background, but your mind cannot stop racing. Your thoughts scatter like arrows shot in every direction. You try to focus on something, anything, but it feels as though your brain is in a constant battle between the ideas that come and go. The light from the lamp flickers irregularly, and for a moment, you wonder if the bulb is about to explode. This makes no sense, you know that, but the unease lingers.

You quickly get up from the bed, taking a misstep, tripping over a chair you hadn’t seen, barely avoiding it. Your heart races. Everything is a series of chaotic jumps in your head, an endless torrent of thoughts that can’t follow a single path. You look at the desk, with papers scattered about—unfinished projects, ideas you can’t ground. Everything calls to you, but you can’t focus on anything.

Your hands tremble slightly as you grab the pen and begin to write down an idea that came to you, but before you finish the sentence, a new image flashes in your mind. You stop, leaving the pen on the desk and staring out the window. Something about the glow of the stars makes you think of something else. You can’t concentrate. Everything distracts you, even the small noises you used to never notice. It’s so annoying.

Suddenly, you feel the stress begin to accumulate in your shoulders. It’s not just the lack of concentration; it’s the sense of constantly running toward something without ever arriving. You try to finish a task, but more and more thoughts pile up, projects, things that need doing. Everything seems urgent, and nothing seems possible to complete. Anxiety settles in your chest.

You’re about to get up again when you hear the sound of the door opening behind you. Ekko enters the room, his calming presence is the only thing that makes you stop for a moment. He watches you in silence for a few seconds, noticing the frenzy of your movements. You hadn’t realized, but your breathing is irregular, and you’ve gotten up twice without purpose. Something isn’t right.

He watches you quietly, understanding the internal struggle you’re facing. He knows what this means, what it costs you every day.

“What’s going on? Why are you so worked up?” he asks, his voice soft but with enough authority to make you stop and listen.

Your eyes focus on a fixed point, but you can’t find the words to explain what you’re feeling. You don’t know how to put into words what’s happening. It’s like you’re trapped in a cycle of thoughts that never stop.

“My mind... it doesn’t stop moving,” you finally manage to say, almost in a whisper. “Every time I try to do something, it’s like something else distracts me. Nothing stays. Everything slips away.”

Ekko watches you silently for a moment, understanding the fight you’re facing. He knows exactly what this feels like.

“I get it, babe,” he responds, his tone firm but gentle. “I know your mind’s all over the place right now, but I promise we can do this one step at a time. We’ll focus on one thing at a time, no pressure. Sound good?”

The fact that Ekko is offering to be there, without judgment, brings you relief. You know that the impulsiveness you feel, the urge to move without a plan, is something that consumes you. Your mind jumps from one thought to another, and each of those thoughts feels like an urgent need, an immediate necessity. But at the same time, nothing makes sense. Everything is scattered and out of control.

“It’s just that...” your words fade into the air, unable to be completed. You feel trapped in your own body, in your own brain. You can’t stop, but you can’t move forward either.

Ekko gently places a hand on your shoulder, his touch calming. “How can we start?” he asks sincerely, not rushing you. “Tell me what you need.”

For a moment, everything seems to stop. The flood of thoughts quiets down, and for the first time in a long while, you can think clearly, even if it’s just for an instant. It’s not about having everything figured out right away; it’s about feeling that someone is there, willing to stand by you while you navigate through the mental whirlwind.

“I just... I don’t know how to do it without jumping from one thing to another,” you murmur, frustration and shame creeping into your voice. “I feel like everything’s overwhelming, and I can’t focus on anything.”

“We’ll take it slow,” Ekko replies, his tone calm and direct. “First, breathe. The first step is to breathe, and then we can start with just one thing. The rest can wait.”

You close your eyes for a moment and follow his words. You breathe deeply, slowly, trying to find the balance that always seems so hard to reach. Ekko is there, not rushing you, waiting for your mind to settle. With his help, little by little, you manage to focus on one small task, one that’s manageable enough not to overwhelm you. It’s just one step, but it’s a step toward calm.

“You don’t have to do it all right now,” Ekko says softly. “What matters is that you’re not alone in this. We’ll go step by step.”

You feel the knot in your stomach loosening, even though there’s still much to do. But at this moment, with him by your side, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you can find a way toward a little peace.

After hours of work and soft laughter, you’re sitting on the floor, with Ekko beside you, both looking at the pieces left to place in a puzzle. It’s almost complete, the pieces fitting perfectly, and though the hours have flown by, you feel lighter, the atmosphere quieter.

“One more,” Ekko says with a smile, holding up a piece in the air. He passes it to you, and together, you place it in its spot, completing the picture. The puzzle is done, and though it’s a small accomplishment, it feels more meaningful than it seems. Not just because of what you’ve completed, but because you’ve managed to feel centered, accompanied.

When you look at the drawing you had left unfinished, now finally complete, you feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Ekko helped bring to life the image that only existed in your mind, his hands working alongside yours, following every line with care.

“You did it,” Ekko says, his eyes shining with pride. “My girl is incredible.” He pulled you into his lap and kissed your forehead.

You look at him, your heart beating a little faster. The fatigue of the afternoon washes over you, but you don’t care. All that matters is that he’s here, by your side, and that, for once, you feel at peace. The air feels lighter, as if the space between you two has been reduced, softened by the stillness of the moment.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your words barely a whisper, but full of gratitude.

Ekko turns toward you, his expression softening. “Don’t thank me. Thank yourself. You’re the one who made it happen, not me.”

The way he looks at you, the way his presence has become part of your space, makes you smile. And, in a moment of impulse, without thinking too much about it, you move a little closer. He seems to understand it instantly, and before you can second-guess yourself, his lips brush against yours. It’s a soft kiss, no rush, no urgency, just a moment where words aren’t needed.

When you pull away, both of you stay there, looking at each other, the air between you charged with something that doesn’t need to be named. Ekko smiles, his eyes sparkling with that glint that makes you feel as though everything is right, as if the world, for a moment, is in its place.

“Everything’s okay now,” Ekko says softly, filling you with calm.

And in that instant, you believe him.

Silco Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

The air in Silco's office is thick with tension, as always. The sound of the bustling city echoes through the glass windows, but inside, everything is still, almost as rigid as the gaze Silco fixes on you. You're sitting across from him, feeling a familiar dizziness, as if everything is out of control and, at the same time, you're trapped in an empty space. A mix of confusion and anxiety courses through every fiber of your being.

Your hands tremble slightly, and although you try to control your breathing, each inhalation seems to sink you further into the internal chaos. The voices in your head blend together, demanding answers, claiming something you can't give. Silco watches you calmly, but it's a cold, calculated calm, as if everything that's going on inside you is a game he knows how to play.

You feel the emptiness consuming you, and yet an unbearable pressure weighs on your chest. Your mind betrays you, throwing destructive thoughts at you, telling you you're worthless, that everything you do is doomed to fail. The contradiction is overwhelming: on one hand, you feel lost, and on the other, you refuse to give in to the feeling of helplessness.

"Are you alright?" Silco asks, his voice low and steady, but there's a slight intensity in his tone. He doesn't break eye contact, as if he's evaluating every micro-expression on your face, every movement. He knows you're not, but still, he asks. Is it a test? A need to know how far you can go? The silence stretches on, and your thoughts only intensify.

The urge to stand up and run from it all is strong. Everything in you screams to follow your impulses, to escape, to flee from the overwhelming weight of it all. But you stay there, because something in you knows that running will only plunge you deeper into the darkness you're feeling inside. You see yourself fighting, trying to maintain control, but every second makes you feel more lost.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what's happening to me," you whisper, your voice broken, struggling against the avalanche of emotions threatening to drown you. You feel the tears pressing behind your eyes, but you force yourself to keep composure. "It's just... it's all so intense. So confusing."

Silco keeps watching you in silence. There's no judgment in his gaze, only a calculated assessment, as if he's reading between the lines of your suffering. After a long moment, he sighs and stands up from his chair, approaching you slowly. It's not a sudden gesture, but calm, as if he's used to dealing with people who struggle with their own minds. He says nothing, but his presence is the only thing anchoring you in this moment.

With one hand, he takes yours. The contact is firm, but not aggressive, as if he's giving you space to breathe, but also space to not escape. In his eyes, something changes. There's an understanding that you can't fully decipher, but it fills you with a strange sensation, like, for the first time in a long time, you're not alone in the storm raging inside you.

"Your mind is betraying you," Silco says calmly, his voice soft but full of an authority that makes you feel that everything happening has a purpose. "It's an enemy that everyone must face at some point. But you don't have to face it alone."

The words fall on you like a stone, but strangely, they allow you to relax, even if only for a moment. The internal chaos you've always felt halts for an instant. And in that silence, you're finally able to breathe.

"All of this... this emptiness, the feeling that nothing matters, it's not your fault," Silco continues, his tone firm, though not without a strange gentleness. "It's just a phase, a moment that will pass. But you need to control it. Not let it take over you."

You feel vulnerable, but at the same time, a part of you relaxes in his closeness. Silco doesn't tell you that it's okay, nor does he promise easy solutions. He speaks to you with reality, with that harshness that you know comes from someone who understands suffering, but who doesn't have time to sugarcoat the truth.

"What you're feeling is real, but it's also transient. Not everything is as final as you think," he adds, his gaze fixed on yours with intensity. "You can be stronger than this."

The words resonate in your mind as you take a deep breath. You don't know if you fully believe them, but for some reason, in this moment, the darkness feels less imposing. You're not completely free of it, but at least you feel you're not entirely alone. Silco is here, firm and without judgment, waiting for you to take control of your own mind, without expecting you to do it immediately, but giving you the possibility to believe that you'll manage.

The pressure in your chest doesn't disappear completely, but a small crack of calm starts to open within you. And though you know your inner struggles won't end immediately, for the first time in a long while, you don't feel as lost. Silco looks at you one last time, without haste, but with a silent certainty.

"When you're ready, you can get out of this. I'll be here."

You're surprised by how firm his voice sounds, as if, by saying it, he's committed to being a constant presence. And although you don't fully understand how he does it, you realize that, in this moment, his steadiness helps you more than any empty words of comfort.

The world continues around you, but somehow, Silco has given you the strength to face it.

The silence between you and Silco lingers for a moment, but it's no longer the same silence as before. There's a strange peace, almost comforting, in the way he holds you, in the closeness you now feel between you both. The contact of his hand, firm and steady, gives you an anchor amidst the storm that still rages inside you.

A sigh escapes your lips without you noticing, and for a moment, it's not one of despair, but of relief. Silco, still keeping his gaze fixed on you, takes one more step closer. It's not a quick or rushed step, but a calculated one, as if he's sure that, in this moment, the only thing you need is that closeness, that calm presence.

Without saying anything, his fingers gently caress your cheek, a soft gesture that cuts through you. There's a tenderness in his movements that you hadn't anticipated, something that seems in complete contradiction with the person you know, but that, in this moment, comforts you more than any words. You feel vulnerable, but you don't fear it, not now.

Your breathing gradually calms, and Silco, silently, moves a little closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his body. The space between you is almost nonexistent now, and you can feel his breath in rhythm with yours. There's something in his presence that soothes you, that gives you the feeling that everything will be okay, even though it still feels hard to believe.

Finally, his lips come close to yours with an unexpected softness. It's not a hasty or desperate kiss, but something slower, more measured. The brush of his lips against yours is so gentle that it surprises you, as if he's waiting for you to accept it, for you to be ready. And you are. Though your mind is still filled with doubts and fears, something inside you tells you that this is the moment you can allow yourself to be vulnerable, that you can receive something that won't hurt you.

The kiss deepens slowly, and in that instant, the world seems to fade away around you. All that remains is the warmth of his body, the firmness of his arms around you, and the gentle contact of his lips, like a silent promise that, even though the future is uncertain, for a moment, everything is alright.

When you finally pull away, no words are needed. Silco looks at you with an intensity you've never seen before, but in his eyes, there's something more, something you can't describe, something that makes you feel that, despite everything you've been through, you're not alone.

"I told you you were strong," he whispers, his voice deep and soft at the same time.

And for a moment, everything seems enough.

Mel Chronic Stress Disorder

The atmosphere is thick with tension, but it's a different kind of tension. It's a quiet calm, yet at the same time, it is filled with the constant threat of what could happen. You’re there, in one of the rooms of the mansion, sitting on a chair by the window, gazing out at the illuminated city, but unable to really see anything. The world around you seems to blur, as if a layer of fog has settled over your senses, blurring every detail and leaving only the emptiness of your thoughts.

Mel, who has been watching your behavior for the past few minutes, approaches with a palpable gentleness in her movements. Her presence is firm, but not intrusive. From a distance, she’s observed how the symptoms of your chronic stress have taken over you, how anxiety and mental exhaustion have combined to make you feel beyond your limits.

She crouches slightly to be at your level, her eyes fixed on yours, searching for your attention. “I notice you’re not yourself, and I know it’s because the weight of everything has piled up,” she says in a low voice, her tone soft yet firm. “But I want you to listen. You have the right to rest. You don’t have to carry the world, not all the time.”

Despite her words, you feel a pressure in your chest that won’t ease. Everything feels too big, too heavy. Chronic stress consumes you, leaving your thoughts tangled while your body responds with a deep exhaustion that doesn’t seem to go away no matter what you do.

Mel, noticing the internal struggle that consumes you, steps closer and, without warning, places a firm hand on your shoulder. It’s not a gesture of force, but of support. A sign that she’s here, silently, but available to help you find the balance you need.

“Your body is telling you it needs to stop,” she continues, with a softness that’s hard to deny. “Those moments of despair, of exhaustion... they’re real. But you don’t have to go through it alone, no matter how much you think you can.”

The contact of her hand on you, her quiet strength, begins to offer some relief. Even though the weight still lingers, something in you relaxes. It’s as if her words offer you a rope to hold onto, something tangible in the fog that seems to surround your mind.

You lean forward, your fingers briefly touching your forehead as you try to calm the agitation still coursing through you. The stress, that constant pressure in your life, seems unwilling to let go of you, but at least in this moment, with Mel by your side, you can breathe a little more deeply.

“I’ll be here,” Mel whispers, like an unbreakable promise. “If you need to rest, I’ll help you find peace. You don’t have to go on alone.”

For the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to think that, maybe, it’s possible to let go of some of that burden. Mel’s voice, soft yet full of certainty, is a refuge in the midst of the chaos in your mind.

Mel doesn’t expect you to feel guilty for your exhaustion. She doesn’t demand that you change or “overcome” your chronic stress overnight. She only gives you space to feel what you need to feel and to acknowledge that, even though the road may be long, you don’t have to walk it alone.

When your eyes lift and meet hers, there’s something in your gaze that softens. The stress doesn’t vanish immediately, but the simple fact that someone understands you, that someone is staying with you without judging, gives you something you didn’t have before: the possibility of healing.

The silence between you both is comfortable. It’s a silence of acceptance and understanding. And as Mel remains by your side, her presence becomes something that offers comfort, not an immediate solution, but a step toward the calm you so desperately need.

After a long silence, Mel slowly approaches you, and her eyes, filled with softness and understanding, capture you. She takes your hand, with a delicacy that makes you feel lighter, as if the weight of your mind could lessen just with that contact.

“You know, right?” she whispers, her voice gentle but firm. “I’ve seen you fight, and still, you’re here, being so incredible. And to me, that’s what really matters. Not everything you’ve been through, but who you are now.”

The sparkle in her eyes makes you blush slightly, and your heart beats a little faster.

“Mel...” you whisper, barely able to find the words, feeling your nerves breaking. “I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

She smiles, moving closer. “I’m here, for whatever you need, for anything, always.”

Without saying another word, Mel gently caresses your cheek, as if every movement is a silent promise. Then, you see her lean in toward you, her face so close to yours that you can feel the brush of her breath.

“You’re my refuge, you know that, right?” Mel says, with sincerity that runs deep within you.

And without another word, her lips find yours, in a tender, almost urgent kiss, as if she wanted to convey everything she couldn’t with words. When she pulls away, her eyes shine with an unmistakable softness.

“I love you, with all my being. And that won’t change.”

You shiver slightly at her words, but instead of insecurity, you find comfort. Her eyes transmit calm to you, and for the first time, you realize that she’s willing to be the peace you so need.

Sevika Bipolar Disorder

The darkness surrounds you, but it’s not physical darkness; it’s something denser, creeping through every corner of your mind. It’s one of those days. You don’t know for sure, but you feel it deep in your gut: something has changed. There’s a void in your chest that you don’t know how to fill, and a sensation in your stomach that twists you up. You’ve been through this before. The bipolar disorder drags you, takes you as its own without warning, pushing you from one extreme to the other in a matter of hours, minutes.

You wake up feeling the weight of sadness, a sadness that feels physical, sinking you into the mattress as if the sheets were lead. You don’t want to move, think, or do anything. You just feel empty, as if all your strength has evaporated. The room seems smaller, the walls pressing in on you. Your legs don’t respond when you try to get up. A knot forms in your throat, but the tears won’t come. There’s no energy for that, just the weight of despair.

You don’t see her enter. Her presence is silent, but solid. Sevika knows something is wrong, she feels it even before you tell her. When you look at her, her expression doesn’t change, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you feel that the situation is serious. There’s no surprise, no fear, just a cold, calculating understanding. Sevika isn’t one to lose her calm easily. And that makes you even more confused, making you feel like you don’t belong in that moment, like you’re not the person she expects to see.

“What’s going on?” she asks, not softening anything. The question isn’t condescending, nor filled with concern. It’s direct, almost harsh, she doesn’t beat around the bush. She knows that, when you’re like this, empty words don’t help.

You struggle to form a response. You can’t, really. Your thoughts are tangled in an incomprehensible chaos. But she doesn’t expect you to explain anything. Sevika approaches, sits on the edge of the bed. Her gaze never leaves you, as if she’s evaluating your soul, searching for a point of vulnerability, a sign of what to do next. She has the ability to see beyond your emotions, beyond the depression that consumes you and the anxiety that makes you tremble. She knows that right now there’s nothing rational in your mind, but understanding is her only response. Patience mixes with a slight touch of toughness, as she always does with things she can’t control.

“You’re staying here. You’re not going to do anything impulsive. You’re not going to try to run out of here or make this worse,” she says with a calm coldness that leaves no room for objection. You know that, in this moment, she’s the only voice of reason you can hear.

You’re aware that Sevika is used to dealing with extreme situations, but this one is different. She watches you closely, but from a distance, as if she’s weighing the damage, calculating what she can do to keep you safe. You don’t see fear in her, but you see resolve. She doesn’t switch into “rescuer mode,” she doesn’t try to hug you or tell you that everything will be fine. What she says, she says with authority because she knows that if she gives in, chaos will take control, and everything she’s worked to keep stable will fall apart.

In the internal struggle between your broken mind and the anger that begins to build up inside of you, Sevika is the rock that keeps you from diving into the void. But she also knows she can’t ignore your emotions. Her expression hardens slightly when she realizes there’s something more going on. “I’m telling you this because you know it, not because I need to explain it to you,” she whispers, making it clear that there’s no room for games.

When you finally speak, it’s in whispers, as if your words have weight and could break you. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m... I’m so tired of this constant back and forth. I can’t handle it.”

Sevika doesn’t change her posture. She doesn’t tell you that she’s going to “fix” you, nor does she try to cure you. She knows that what you have doesn’t have an easy fix, but she does have tools to deal with the situation. “You don’t need to fix anything right now. You need to rest. Let what’s going to happen, happen, but don’t make decisions you’ll regret later. Do you understand me?” her voice is firm, but underneath there’s something else, a touch of softness she rarely shows.

The air in the room is heavy, laden with the weight of your thoughts, like a fog that prevents you from seeing beyond. Sevika is there, watching you with the same intensity as always, but with an odd calm, a calm that scares you because it makes you feel like she sees it all: the chaos consuming you, the internal battle between despair and rage.

“I don’t want this to control me. I don’t want to be like this,” you murmur, the words coming out broken. You know you’re saying it more to yourself than to her, but still, the guilt pierces your chest like invisible needles. You feel like you’re not being who she expects.

Sevika stays silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on you. There’s something in her face, a line of tension in her jaw, as if she’s weighing every word before speaking. Finally, she gets a little closer, breaking the distance between your bodies.

“It’s not about what you expect from yourself. It’s about what you need right now. And what you need right now is rest, stop fighting against something you can’t control.”

Your eyes search hers, those eyes that always seem to understand more than you can verbalize. And, somehow, you feel that there’s no judgment in them, just a silent acceptance of what you’re going through. It’s strange. In the middle of the storm in your mind, Sevika gives you the feeling of being the only anchor left in your world.

Suddenly, she stretches out a hand toward you, not rushing, not in a hurry, but with the firmness that characterizes her. You take it without thinking, as if it’s the only thing that can stop the flood of erratic thoughts flooding your mind. Her touch is warm, comforting. There’s a strength in that simple gesture, something that allows you to relax, even if just for a second.

“I’m going to take care of you, understand?” she whispers, her voice low, barely a breath. There are no empty promises in her words, just a statement of fact. But in her tone, you find a softness that she rarely shows. It’s like, for a brief moment, her heart opens a little more, even if she doesn’t fully recognize it.

The moment stretches on, and even though the storm in your mind hasn’t ceased, there’s something in you that feels a little lighter. Sevika doesn’t have the solution to your pain, but her presence, her closeness, gives you a peace you never even imagined.

Without thinking, you move a little closer to her, seeking that warmth. Her fingers interlace with yours, and for the first time all day, you don’t feel completely broken. Sevika has never promised you a happy ending, but in this moment, you don’t need one. The simple fact of being here, of having her close, gives you a reason to keep going, even if just for a little while longer.

“I love you,” you say without thinking, and the words come out with a clarity that surprises you. It’s not a grand declaration, it’s not a promise that everything will be okay, but it’s something real, something you never thought you could say to anyone before.

“I love you too, doll,” she responds with a half-smile, though her eyes seem softer than ever. And, for a second, the world seems to stop. The anxiety, the disorder in your head, dissipate, if only for a brief moment.

She leans in a little toward you, and in that instant, all that matters is the touch of her lips on your forehead, a simple gesture but filled with affection. The silence between you both is comfortable, no pressure, just the comfort of being together, knowing that, even if the world around you falls apart, Sevika will be the one to keep you steady.

[kizzer55555]

Little Artist

So I saw this

and had an idea for Danny X Damian. Where Danny likes making various stories he publishes online. Everyone said he needed a hobby and he can’t be an astronount (or join a sport since it would be more suspicious if he left in the middle of a game or practice for a ghost attack) and Ghost Writer got him to try writing, saying it’s relaxing. And honestly? It was. Danny enjoyed making stories. Sometimes he would just type what crazy thing happened to him that day while tweaking names and a few details to not give away his identity. Sometimes he made fanfiction of some stories he liked. And sometimes he tested out making original stories, taking and first hand knowledge from various ghosts and cultures to make his writing more authentic. And after much encouragement from Jazz, he posted some of his work online.

Cue Damian coming across one of his brother’s laptops. He didn’t mean to look for long but he thought the file was for a case and wanted to know more about it. ….then he got invested.

There was an author on this sight who wrote amazing stories. The emotions captured were so vivid, and he even fact checked a few historical facts and languages used. Everything from the dialogue, to the accent, and culture. Each new story completely enraptured him.

It made his fingers twitch for a piece of paper. Some paint, perhaps charcoal?

Damian started putting heavy encryption on his computer and search history. And locked his art room up. Then came a story that truly resonated with him. An original work about a boy from a different place, trying to fit into his new reality and the new rules and expectations placed on him…worried if his family would accept him. It sounded so much like when Damian first came to Wayne Manor. And it sparked his inspiration. He spent days working on his newest piece. Trying different angles and lighting, mixing colors. It looked like a collage between charcoal and watercolor, showing someone leaving a world of darkness into the light, yet this new world was unstable and strange compared to the rigid structure of his old one. When it was finally done, Damian felt like he was both looking at himself and a stranger. The character from the story brought to life.

It felt both freeing and settling, like he finally had a name for what he had been feeling. AstroBoi13’s fics always had that affect on him.

And for the first time, Damian did something he thought he’d never do. He snapped a picture of his masterpiece and sent it to the author. Quickly so he didn’t lose his nerve.

It was fine. It’s just one picture. It’s not like this would be a repeat occurrence.

[aerialmirrorss]

𝐨 𝐩 𝐞 𝐧 𝐚 𝐫 𝐦 𝐬 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ rafe cameron

playing: 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 by sza 𝜗𝜚˚｡˚ ⋆

synopsis! an unlikely alliance between the pogues and rafe forms as suspicions point to a familiar kook being behind the leaked video, but without proof, the tension’s impossible to ignore. the group teams up (sort of) to figure it out, but the kook-pogue divide is hanging by a thread, and it’s only a matter of time before things blow up.

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

warnings: angst , softdom!rafe , sexual content + unprotected shower sex! , fingering , squirting , pogues accidentally hear you and rafe , some fluff , stalker , mature , 18+ (minors dni!)

word count: 7.6k

notes: this is chapter four of my nobody gets me series. click the links below to read the first chapters! ♡

chapter one: 𝐧 𝐨 𝐛 𝐨 𝐝 𝐲 𝐠 𝐞 𝐭 𝐬 𝐦 𝐞 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

chapter two: 𝐰 𝐢 𝐥 𝐝 𝐟 𝐥 𝐨 𝐰 𝐞 𝐫 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

chapter three: 𝐜 𝐚 𝐬 𝐮 𝐚 𝐥 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆

rafe’s jaw clenched tightly, the muscles ticking as he pressed his phone against his ear, trying to hold back his frustration. ward’s voice droned on from the other end of the line, sharp and condescending, the lecture having gone on for what felt like an eternity.

“—jeopardizing everything, rafe,” ward snapped, his tone cutting through the line like a knife. “our family name is being slandered all over obx, and for what? some girl?”

rafe’s grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles white as his other hand balled into a fist at his side. “it’s not just some girl,” he growled, his voice low.

“oh, really?” ward shot back, the sarcasm in his voice grating. “because from where i’m sitting, it looks like you’ve let some fling drag our name through the mud. rose is getting calls from everyone for god’s sake! do you even understand the kind of damage this is doing?”

rafe’s breath came in sharp bursts as he stared at the wall, his anger barely contained. “i’m handling it,” he said through gritted teeth, though even he wasn’t sure if he believed it anymore.

“handling it?” ward laughed coldly. “you’ve got a sex tape floating around the island, and the entire town knows it’s you. how, exactly, are you handling it, rafe?”

“just trust me, okay?” rafe snapped, his voice rising. “i’ll take care of it.”

“trust you?” ward scoffed. “you can’t even keep your name—and our family’s name—out of the gutter. you think i’m going to trust you to clean this up? you’d better figure it out fast, rafe, because i’m not letting this ruin everything i’ve built.”

the line went dead before rafe could respond, the sound of the call disconnecting echoing in his ears. his hand trembled as he lowered the phone, his entire body tense with rage. “fucking perfect,” he muttered under his breath, throwing the phone onto the couch as he paced the room, the weight of ward’s words pressing down on him like a boulder.

from the doorway, you stood with your arms crossed, chewing nervously on the inside of your cheek as rafe’s raised voice echoed through the room. you hadn’t meant to listen in, but with the way he was practically shouting into the phone, it was impossible not to overhear.

each word dripped with frustration and anger, and though you couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, it wasn’t hard to piece together who he was talking to—or what they were talking about. the tension in his tone, the clipped way he spit out his words, made it clear: this wasn’t just an argument, it was a full-blown fight.

you shifted uncomfortably, feeling guilty for standing there, but something kept you rooted in place. maybe it was the way his shoulders tensed with every sharp word, or how he gripped the phone like it was the only thing holding him together. you’d never seen him like this, so unfiltered, so completely on edge.

“rafe?” you finally spoke, your voice soft, almost hesitant, as if you were afraid of how he might respond.

his blazed, anger-filled eyes snapped to yours, but the moment he saw you, they softened instantly. the tension in his body seemed to dissipate just slightly, his shoulders dropping. it had been a few days since the video had spread across the island, and this was one of the first times he’d seen you standing on your own.

the sight tugged at his chest. for most of that time, you’d been curled up in his bed, hidden beneath the layers of his oversized hoodie, refusing to eat or even speak to him. it had him worried sick, pacing between his room and the kitchen, trying to figure out how to help you without making things worse.

now, seeing you out of that self-imposed cocoon, he felt a flicker of hope, but also the weight of knowing you were still hurting.

“hey,” he said softly, his tone shifting completely, the frustration from his call gone. “you… you okay?” he asked, his voice careful, as if he were afraid to push too hard and send you retreating again. it was a simple question, but the way he looked at you, like you were the most important thing in the world, made it clear that it wasn’t just small talk. he needed to know—he had to know—that you were okay.

he stepped closer, his movements slow, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of what you were feeling. the silence stretched between you for a moment, heavy and unspoken.

instead of answering, you nodded toward the couch where his phone now sat after being tossed in anger. “daddy dearest, i assume?” you said quietly, your tone laced with a mix of exhaustion and faint humor, though your heart wasn’t really in it.

rafe’s jaw tightened briefly at your words, but then he let out a small, humorless chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “yeah,” he admitted, his voice low. “he’s… not exactly thrilled about the current situation.”

he glanced at you, his eyes scanning your face carefully, as though trying to gauge your reaction. “it’s all about the family name, the reputation. nothing new,” he added bitterly, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

you stayed silent for a moment, your arms crossing over your chest as you studied him. “you okay?” you finally asked, your voice softer this time.

rafe blinked at your question, surprised. he’d been so focused on worrying about you these past few days that he hadn’t even thought about how he must’ve looked to you—worn down, tense, and barely keeping it together. “me?” he said, letting out a short, dry laugh. “i’m fine. it’s you I’m worried about.”

his gaze softened as he stepped closer, his hand hovering near your arm like he wasn’t sure if you’d let him touch you. “you don’t have to worry about him,” he murmured. “or anyone else. i’ll deal with it.”

you smiled softly, not bothering to answer, and instead stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his neck in a warm embrace. his body stiffened for a split second, like he wasn’t expecting it, but then he relaxed into you, his arms circling your waist tightly, as if he was afraid to let go.

now that you were this close, you could see it—how exhausted he really was. the dark circles under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders that didn’t seem to ease even as he held you. rafe had been carrying just as much as you, if not more, and the realization made your chest ache.

his hand slid up to the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair as he sighed against your shoulder. “i missed you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, the vulnerability in his tone catching you off guard. “these past few days… you scared me.”

you tightened your hold on him, burying your face in his neck. “i’m sorry,” you whispered, the words muffled but heartfelt. you hadn’t meant to shut him out, but the weight of everything had been too much, and now, standing here in his arms, you felt a flicker of regret for not letting him in sooner.

“it’s okay,” he replied softly, pulling back just enough to look at you. his hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he studied you with those piercing blue eyes that held equal parts concern and relief. “just… don’t do that again, okay? i can’t—i don’t want to lose you.”

your lips parted, but no words came. instead, you nodded, leaning into his touch, letting the silence between you carry the weight of everything unspoken. slowly, you moved closer, your lips just inches from his when his phone, still resting on the couch, buzzed loudly, breaking the moment.

rafe groaned, running a hand down his face. “can never have anything, i swear,” he mumbled as he reluctantly reached for the phone after sitting. his annoyance only deepened when he saw the caller id: sarah.

her name flashing across the screen made his jaw tighten, the memory of their last argument still raw. he hesitated for a moment before pressing the phone to his ear.

“what?” he snapped, his tone sharp and clipped, already bracing himself for another confrontation.

a pause hung on the other end, the silence making his grip on the phone tighten. when sarah finally spoke, her voice was quieter than usual. “we need to talk.”

rafe rolled his eyes, leaning back against the couch. “thought we already said everything there was to say,” he muttered impatiently.

“not about me and you,” sarah replied, her tone softer but still steady. “it’s about y/n.”

his heart stuttered, his posture stiffening as her words registered. “what about her?” he demanded, the edge in his voice sharper now, his protective instincts flaring. from the corner of his eye, he saw you chewing your bottom lip, clearly aware they were talking about you.

sarah cleared her throat, her voice carefully controlled. “how is she doing?”

rafe exhaled, turning his head to glance at you. “she’s getting there,” he admitted quietly, his tone softening slightly. the weight of his words lingered in the air, the silence on the other end of the line growing heavy.

“good,” sarah finally said, her voice hesitant. then, she continued, firmer this time. “listen, the pogues and i are trying to figure out who sent the video. we’ve been going over suspects all night and—”

“don’t bother,” rafe cut in sharply, his words curt and dismissive. “i have rob working on it already.”

there was a pause on the other end, the silence practically dripping with disapproval. “rafe,” sarah finally said, her tone measured, “this isn’t something you can just bulldoze through like one of your deals. rob might be good, but this? this is personal.”

“and what, you think you and your little crew can handle it better?” rafe snapped, his voice rising. “this isn’t some pogue treasure hunt, sarah. this is serious shit. she’s being stalked, and i’m not about to leave this in anyone else’s hands.”

sarah’s sharp sigh cut through the line, her frustration evident. “it’s not about doing it better, rafe. it’s about doing it together. you think you’re the only one who cares about her? we all do. but if you keep shutting everyone out, you’re just going to make this worse—for her and for you.”

rafe didn’t respond immediately, his jaw tightening as her words sank in. deep down, he knew she was right—he couldn’t do this alone. but admitting it felt impossible under the crushing weight of guilt and anger pressing on him.

“if you want to help her, you’ll work with us. accept the help,” sarah said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “if you can, meet us at the chateau—”

“no,” rafe interrupted quickly, his voice resolute. “i’m not leaving the house when there’s a whole-ass stalker around, sarah.”

sarah sighed on the other end, her frustration now mixed with understanding. “then let us come to you,” she offered. “you don’t have to do this alone, rafe. none of us want her to go through this alone either.”

rafe hesitated, his chest tightening at the thought of letting anyone else into the fragile space you both had built. but as much as he hated to admit it, he knew sarah was right. he couldn’t do this alone—not if it meant giving you the support you needed.

“fine,” rafe muttered, glancing at the time on his watch. “be here in an hour.” before sarah could respond, he ended the call abruptly, tossing his phone back onto the couch with a sigh.

you took careful steps over to him, standing between his legs as he leaned back on the couch, watching your every move. without hesitation, he reached out, his hands gently pulling you down onto his lap so you were straddling him. his arms wrapped securely around your waist as you buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.

his hands moved to your hips, rubbing slow, soothing patterns that made you feel grounded despite the chaos surrounding you. “thank you for letting her in,” you mumbled softly against his skin, your voice barely above a whisper.

he smiled faintly, catching on immediately that you and sarah must have discussed this beforehand. “sneaky,” he murmured, his tone carrying a hint of amusement as his hand moved to cradle the back of your head.

you lifted your face just enough to glance at him, catching the slight curve of his lips. “it’s for the best,” you said gently, your fingers brushing lightly over his biceps.

“we’ll see,” he replied, the softness in his voice betraying his usual skepticism. even so, the way he held you closer said he trusted your judgment, even if it meant letting sarah—and the others—into your carefully guarded space.

after a moment of silence, you sighed and pushed gently against him, only for rafe to groan in protest, tightening his grip on your waist.

“rafe, i have to shower,” you whined, though there was no real frustration in your voice.

he smirked, muttering a soft, “okay,” before standing up with you still straddling him, his arms securely holding you in place. instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist, giggling as he walked the two of you toward his bathroom.

you hid your laughter against his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin as he stepped into the bathroom and set you down on the edge of the sink. his eyes softened as he began peeling your clothes off, taking his time, his movements slow and deliberate. there was something about these moments with rafe that made the rest of the world fade away, like time itself paused just for the two of you.

before long, you were both under the warm spray of the shower, the steam curling around you like a cocoon. rafe stood behind you, his chest pressed to your back as he ran a soapy loofah up your arms, his touch both gentle and grounding. you leaned your head back against his chest, letting your eyes flutter closed, savoring the quiet intimacy between you.

“this okay?” he murmured softly against your ear, his breath warm against your damp skin.

“more than okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. moments like this reminded you of the side of rafe that not everyone got to see—the side that made you feel safe, loved, and completely seen.

rafe let the warm water cascade over your body, rinsing away the lathered soap as you turned to face him. your eyes met his, and without hesitation, you reached up, finally pressing your lips to his in a slow, passionate kiss. it was soft, yet it carried all the emotions you hadn’t been able to express in the past few days.

he froze for a moment, caught off guard by the suddenness of it, but then his hands found your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. it was as if the tension in his chest melted away, his heart pounding against his ribs as he poured everything he’d been holding back into the moment.

he practically lost feeling in his legs, the relief washing over him as much as the water did. it had been days since you’d let him kiss you, days of tiptoeing around your emotions and giving you the space you needed. not that it mattered to him how long it took—he would’ve waited forever if you needed him to.

but god, he’d missed this. the way your lips moved against his, the way your fingers tangled in his wet hair, the way your body pressed against his like it was made to fit perfectly there. it was killing him to restrain himself, to not touch you the way he wanted to.

he let out a soft groan, his hands sliding up your back to cradle your face as he pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “missed you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, his eyes fluttering closed as he let himself savor the moment.

“i’m here,” you whispered back, your thumb brushing over his cheek as you smiled softly.

he opened his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability shining in them before he kissed you again, slower this time, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you all over again. in that moment, nothing else mattered—not the chaos, not the fear—just you and him, together under the steady rhythm of the water.

the kiss deepened, growing messier and more desperate as rafe pressed you firmly against the cold tiles. the chill of the surface sent a jolt through your body, a soft whimper escaping your lips that only fueled his hunger.

his hand slid from your hair, trailing down your damp skin until it reached the heat between your thighs. the moment his fingers slipped between your folds, he groaned low and guttural, the sound vibrating against your lips as your jaw went slack.

“shit,” rafe muttered, his voice thick with need as his lips brushed against yours. his fingers teased your clit, circling just enough to drive you insane. “so fuckin’ wet, huh? just for me?”

you nodded frantically, your breath hitching as he circled your clit faster, pulling a moan from deep within your chest. “just for you,” you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders for support.

rafe’s cock twitched painfully against his stomach, the sight of you unraveling beneath him nearly pushing him over the edge. “fuck,” he growled, his hips pressing into your hip in a slow, desperate grind. “you’re driving me insane, baby. can’t even think straight.”

his fingers worked faster, slipping inside you as his thumb stayed focused on your swollen bud. the obscene wet sounds of his movements filled the small space, mixing with your breathy moans and his ragged curses. “you feel so good,” he muttered against your neck, his voice strained as he continued to rut against you, craving more.

“rafe,” you moaned, your voice shaky as your body began to tremble against the tiles. “please…”

he smirked against your skin, his teeth grazing your ear as he murmured, “please what? tell me what you need.” his fingers curled inside you, hitting the spot that made your vision blur, pulling another cry from your lips. “come on, use your words.”

“hmph—i need you to fuck me,” you whined, your voice trembling with desperation. the words barely left your lips before a sharp gasp escaped you, rafe’s fingers suddenly speeding up, plunging deeper as his thumb pressed harder against your clit.

“yeah?” he rasped, his voice thick with lust, his lips ghosting over your jaw as he watched the way your body writhed beneath his touch. “you want me to fuck you, baby? want me to stretch this pretty pussy out?”

you could only nod, your breath hitching as his fingers worked you relentlessly, your hips bucking against his hand. his cock twitched again, painfully hard and pressed against you, and he groaned low in his throat. “you’re so fuckin’ needy,” he muttered, biting down lightly on your neck before soothing the spot with his tongue. “look at you, begging for it.”

your hands gripped his biceps, your nails digging into his skin as your legs started to shake, the tension in your core building to unbearable heights. “please,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as his movements didn’t relent. “please, rafe.”

“oh, i’ll fuck you,” he growled, pulling his hand away abruptly, leaving you whimpering at the sudden loss of contact. before you could even voice a protest, he grabbed your thighs, lifting you effortlessly so your legs wrapped securely around his waist. he pressed you harder against the cold tiles, his lips brushing your ear as he continued, “but you gotta cum for me first.”

his fingers slid back inside you, curling perfectly to hit that spot that had you gasping, your back arching against the wall. his thumb found your clit again, rubbing quick, tight circles that made your legs tremble around his hips.

“show me how bad you want it,” he growled, his pace relentless, his voice rough and commanding. the intensity of his touch had you spiraling in no time, your body writhing against his as heat coiled low in your stomach.

you clung to his shoulders as you fell apart, crying out his name so loudly it echoed off the shower walls. “rafe!” you gasped, your body shaking as the waves of your release crashed over you, leaving you a trembling mess in his arms.

he didn’t stop, drawing out every second of your orgasm until you were practically sobbing from the pleasure. a smug grin spread across his face as he watched you, his chest heaving against yours. “that’s my girl,” he murmured, his tone laced with pride.

he slowly pulled his fingers from you, glistening with your release, and without breaking eye contact, he brought them to his lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied groan. his eyes darkened as he savored the taste, his grin widening. “so sweet,” he muttered, his voice low and rough.

he tightened his hold on you, his strong hands gripping your hips as he pulled back just enough to create the space you needed. your shaky fingers trailed down between your bodies, wrapping around his swollen, throbbing cock. his breath hitched, and a low, guttural moan escaped his lips as you pumped him a few times, feeling the heat and weight of him against your palm.

“fuck,” rafe muttered, his head dropping to your shoulder as his fingers dug into your skin, the tension in his body palpable. “you’re gonna kill me, baby.”

you smirked faintly, your confidence bolstered by his reaction, before guiding him to your entrance. the blunt head of his cock brushed against your slick folds, and you both let out soft, shaky breaths as the anticipation built between you.

he pushed forward just enough for the thick, swollen tip of his cock to slip into your warmth, pulling a moan from both of you. the stretch was intoxicating, the way he filled you so slowly making your breath hitch.

“fuck,” rafe groaned, his voice rough and strained as he paused, savoring the way you clenched around him. his forehead pressed against yours, his hot breath mingling with yours as he struggled to hold himself back. “so tight. so perfect for me.”

your hips shifted instinctively, urging him deeper as a needy whimper escaped your lips. “rafe, please,” you gasped, your voice trembling with desperation. “i need you.”

his jaw tightened, and he smirked faintly, though his restraint was hanging by a thread. “yeah? you want all of me?” he rasped, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pressed a kiss to your parted lips, stealing your breath.

rafe groaned deeply as he pushed in further, the warmth of you pulling him in like a vice. every inch he gave you sent sparks shooting through your body, and the stretch had your head falling back against the cold tile, a desperate moan spilling from your lips.

“fuck,” he hissed, his jaw tightening as he bottomed out, your walls squeezing him so perfectly it nearly made him lose his mind. “you feel so fuckin’ good, baby. like you were made for me.”

you could barely respond, your breath hitching as he stayed there for a moment, letting you adjust to the fullness of him. his hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you steady against the tiles as his lips found your neck, biting and sucking softly, leaving trails of heat wherever he touched.

“move,” you finally gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as the ache turned into pure, unfiltered need. “rafe, please.”

he pulled back just enough to tease you, his cock dragging along your walls in a way that made your toes curl before slamming back into you, forcing a loud cry from your lips.

“that’s it,” he growled, finding a rhythm that had the obscene sound of skin against skin echoing in the shower. his grip on your hips tightened as he thrust into you with a hunger that made your head spin. “let me hear you, pretty girl. let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.”

rafe’s pace grew relentless, his hips snapping against yours with precision, each thrust driving him deeper until he was brushing that perfect spot inside you over and over. your body arched against the tiles, your hands clawing at his back as waves of pleasure crashed through you.

“rafe,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as the pressure inside you built to an almost unbearable peak. the sound of his grunts and the wet slaps of your bodies filled the air, mingling with your desperate cries. “i can’t—oh my god, i—”

“yes, you can,” rafe growled, his voice dark and commanding as his thumb found your clit, rubbing firm, tight circles that sent you spiraling. “you’re gonna give me everything, princess. let it all go.”

you clenched tightly around him, your body trembling as the heat in your core exploded, and with a broken cry, the release hit you hard. the gush of liquid that followed was undeniable, coating rafe’s abdomen and making him groan loudly, his pace faltering for just a second.

“fuck, baby,” he hissed, his voice laced with awe and arousal as he felt you squirting around him, the sheer intensity of your release pushing him closer to the edge. “look at you, soaking me. so fuckin’ perfect.”

your legs trembled around his waist, your head falling back against the tiles as aftershocks coursed through you. but rafe didn’t stop. he kept his hips moving, chasing his own release as his hands gripped your ass tightly, holding you against him.

he groaned as he slammed into you one last time, his cock throbbing as he spilled inside you. his grip on you tightened as he buried himself as deep as possible, his breath ragged against your neck.

your body went limp in his arms, both of you trembling from the intensity of what just happened.

he leaned his forehead against yours, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as he caught his breath. “never getting over that,” he muttered, his voice filled with pride. “you’re fuckin’ unreal.”

your cheeks warmed instantly at the reminder of what had just happened, and you groaned softly, covering your face with both hands in an attempt to hide your embarrassment. “shut up,” you mumbled, your voice muffled behind your palms.

rafe laughed, a low, satisfied sound, before carefully helping you back onto your feet. your legs trembled slightly, but his steady hands on your hips kept you balanced. once you were stable, he reached up to gently pull your hands away from your face, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned back just enough to look at you. “means i did something right.”

your eyes narrowed playfully, and you smacked his chest with a laugh. “rafe!”

he chuckled, rubbing the spot where your hand landed as if it actually hurt. “what? just sayin’.” his smirk widened, and the way he was looking at you��with that cocky, yet adoring gleam in his eyes—had your heart fluttering despite yourself.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆

you and rafe were still giggling over some inside joke as you made your way into the living room, his arm lazily draped around your waist, his hand resting instinctively on your hip. but the laughter died on your lips the moment you noticed your friends sitting on the couches, their expressions ranging from awkward to downright tense.

rafe’s brows furrowed immediately, his grip on your hip tightening slightly as his eyes flicked between them. “how the fuck did you guys get in?” he asked sharply, his tone clipped.

sarah cleared her throat, clearly the one to break the silence as she held up a familiar house key. her lips were pressed into a tight line,

her eyes avoiding yours. “i still have my key,” she said quietly, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

your stomach twisted uncomfortably as you glanced between sarah and the rest of the pogues. their silence spoke volumes, and rafe’s jaw tightened beside you, his protectiveness radiating off him in waves. he stared them down, clearly less than thrilled about the uninvited intrusion.

“is there a reason you’re all just… sitting here?” rafe asked, his tone touched with impatience as his gaze lingered pointedly on sarah.

pope shifted awkwardly in his seat, his tone measured as he explained, “we knocked at first, but since no one answered, we thought something was wrong.”

before you could respond, jj piped up with his signature sarcasm. “jesus, bro, we thought you were killing her in there.”

your gasp was immediate, your cheeks heating with mortification as you stammered, “jj!” you quickly brought your hands to your face, covering it in embarrassment.

rafe, on the other hand, didn’t miss a beat. his lips curled into a smug smirk, his hand tightening on your hip in a way that made your stomach flip. “if i was,” he drawled cockily, “she was screaming for the right reasons.”

“rafe!” you hissed, swatting his chest in mortified protest. his chuckle only deepened, clearly unbothered by the tension in the room. jj snorted, shaking his head in amusement, while sarah groaned audibly, pinching the bridge of her nose as if trying to physically block out the mental image.

“can we not?” sarah muttered, her voice low and dripping with exasperation. “i’m already traumatized enough as it is.”

rafe shot her an amused grin, his hand still possessively resting on your hip. “you’re traumatized? imagine how i feel, dealing with all of you breaking into my house.”

jj leaned back on the couch, throwing an arm over the backrest with an exaggerated shrug. “oh, come on, man. we knocked. you didn’t answer, and honestly, from all that ruckus i don’t blame—” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively before you cut in.

your cheeks burned hotter, and you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “oh my god, can we talk about literally anything else?”

“agreed,” sarah interjected quickly, shooting jj a death glare before turning her sharp gaze to rafe. “we didn’t come here for… this. we came because we have a problem to deal with. remember?” her tone turned serious, and the atmosphere in the room shifted.

rafe’s smirk faded instantly, his expression hardening as he stood a little straighter. “what problem?” he asked, his grip on your hip tightening protectively, his eyes narrowing as they locked on his sister.

“we might have a lead,” kie said, her voice cautious as her eyes flickered between you and rafe. “and it’s got more people involved than we think, i’m sure.”

rafe groaned in frustration, running a hand through his hair before sinking onto the couch, pulling you down to sit beside him. his hand rested protectively on your thigh as if grounding himself. sarah’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the subtle action, but she chose not to comment. instead, she simply observed, noting how much rafe’s demeanor had shifted in the past few weeks. he cared—more than she’d expected him to.

“so who’s the lead?” rafe snapped, his tone impatient as he looked around the room, waiting for someone to speak up.

after a moment of silence, john b finally answered, “we think it’s barry.”

the name was barely out of john b’s mouth when rafe’s entire demeanor changed. his eyes blazed with fury, his jaw tightening as his hand gripped your thigh. “i’m gonna kill that motherfucker,” rafe growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“rafe, wait,” sarah interjected quickly, holding up her hands as if to calm him. “we don’t know for sure yet.”

“i don’t need to know for sure,” rafe snapped back, his tone laced with venom. “if barry’s even remotely involved in this, he’s dead.” his leg bounced with barely contained energy, his rage practically vibrating off of him.

“look, we’re all pissed,” pope said, his voice firm but measured. “but if we go in guns blazing without proof, we’re just gonna make it worse.”

rafe’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring as he fought to rein in his temper. “he’s not getting away with this,” he muttered darkly, his gaze flicking to you briefly, softening for just a moment before hardening again. “not after what he’s done.”

“you said there were more people involved,” you finally spoke up, your voice soft but steady as your fingers absentmindedly traced soothing patterns on rafe’s knuckles. his hand had been clenched into a tight fist, but your touch seemed to ease some of the tension, his grip relaxing slightly under your gentle movements.

all eyes turned to kie, who nodded slowly. “we’re not sure how many, but it’s definitely not just barry,” she explained. “the way the video spread so fast, the timing—it’s organized. someone else is pulling strings here.”

rafe let out a low growl, his jaw tightening again. “so who the fuck else is it?” he demanded, his voice sharp and filled with impatience.

“we don’t know yet,” john b admitted, his tone cautious. “but if it’s barry, then it’s probably someone he’s working with. he doesn’t have the brains to pull something like this off on his own.”

“or the resources,” pope added, leaning forward with a frown. “he’s got connections, but not that kind of reach.”

you glanced at rafe, watching the way his chest rose and fell as he tried to rein in his anger. his knuckles had whitened from the tension in his fists, so you gave his hand a gentle squeeze, grounding him. “do you think it’s a kook?” you asked softly, your gaze flicking between him and the rest of the group.

“one hundred percent,” jj cut in before rafe could answer, his tone dripping with disdain. “it always fuckin’ is.” he leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms as he shot a glare toward sarah, almost as if it were her fault by association.

sarah rolled her eyes, exhaling sharply. “not every kook is out to ruin your life, jj.”

“no, just the ones we keep having to deal with,” he shot back, his voice filled with sarcasm. “you can’t sit there and tell me it’s not a rich prick playing their stupid games.”

“jj, come on,” kie interjected, her tone firm but measured. “this isn’t the time for finger-pointing.”

“i’m not pointing fingers. i’m stating facts,” jj muttered, his eyes darting to rafe with a slight smirk, the tension palpable. “but hey, maybe lover boy over here can tell us which one of his old kook buddies likes playing stalker.”

rafe’s hand tightened in yours at the jab, his knuckles turning white. his eyes locked on jj, his tone sharp and dangerous as he shot back, “if i knew, then you wouldn’t be sitting on my couch.”

jj raised his hands in mock surrender, a smirk still playing on his lips. “easy. just saying, you might want to start with your crew. i’m sure barry’s not the only one who’d love to see you squirm.”

rafe’s jaw clenched, his breathing steady but filled with tension. you squeezed his hand gently, your thumb brushing soothing circles over his skin, grounding him before he could escalate things further. “jj,” you said softly, your voice carrying a hint of warning, “not helping.”

“what?” jj shrugged, leaning back casually. “i’m just being honest.”

“honest or not, we don’t need to start a fight,” kie interjected, giving jj a pointed look. “we’re here to figure this out, not throw punches.”

“yet,” rafe muttered under his breath, his voice low enough for only you to hear. you glanced up at him, catching the flicker of anger in his eyes. despite the tension radiating off him, the way he stayed seated and quiet told you he was trying—trying to keep himself in check, for you.

you sighed softly, your eyes flickering down to your lap as your thoughts raced. the room was still thick with tension, everyone quietly waiting for the next lead, the next idea. then, a name surfaced in your mind. the name that had haunted you since this all started. your throat tightened as you hesitated, but you knew you had to say it.

“what about stacy?” you croaked, your voice barely above a whisper.

the room went silent, the weight of the name settling over everyone like a dark cloud. rafe’s grip on your hand tightened instinctively, his jaw clenching as his head turned sharply to look at you. “stacy?” he repeated, his voice low and cautious, though you could feel the storm brewing behind his words.

you nodded, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you avoided his gaze. “that day at the country club,” you murmured. “she probably saw us together at the beach. and after… everything with you and her dad… i don’t know, it just feels like she might have a reason.”

rafe sighed heavily, his jaw tightening as he shook his head. “baby, not this again. i told you—“

“i’m not saying it to start an argument,” you cut him off, your tone firmer now. “i’m saying it because i’ve always had a weird feeling about her, and it just seems too convenient. think about it, rafe. it’s obvious she wants you, and who knows how far she’s willing to go to get you.”

your words hung in the air, the room going still as everyone absorbed what you’d just said. rafe’s gaze softened slightly, his hand brushing over yours in an attempt to calm you. “i told you, stacy’s nothing to me,” he said quietly, his voice steady but laced with frustration. “she’s not a threat.”

“but what if she is?” you countered, finally meeting his eyes. “we can’t just ignore this because you don’t think she’d go that far. we have to consider it, especially if she’s been watching us.”

rafe’s expression hardened as he processed your words, his jaw tightening. “okay,” he finally said, his voice low but resolute. “we’ll look into it.”

you nodded, encouraged by his response, and pressed on. “and especially since you said her dad’s company is your family’s biggest competitor,” you continued, your voice steady despite the emotions simmering beneath the surface. “putting out a video like that? it would ruin everything—for you, for me, for the cameron name. it makes sense.”

sarah leaned forward, her eyes narrowing in thought. “she’s got the motive,” she said, her tone thoughtful but sharp. “if she’s working with barry or someone else, she’d have the connections to pull this off. and she’s petty enough to do it.”

kie nodded in agreement, crossing her arms. “it’s not just about you two, either. if her dad’s in on this, he’d see this as a way to take a shot at the whole cameron empire. barry could be the perfect tool for that.”

you sighed, running a hand through your damp hair, trying to steady your spiraling thoughts. deep down, you knew stacy was behind this. your instincts screamed it, pointing at her with flashing lights and blaring alarms. every interaction you’d ever had with her, every sidelong glance and calculated move, seemed to line up perfectly with what was happening now. but you couldn’t let your emotions or personal bias cloud your judgment—not when so much was at stake.

no matter how much you despised her, you needed proof. assumptions wouldn’t get you anywhere, and acting on feelings alone could backfire. you clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to take a deep breath, your fingers still tangled in your hair as you glanced around the room.

“we can’t jump to conclusions,” you said finally, your voice quieter but firm. “even if it feels obvious, we need evidence. if we accuse the wrong person, it could make everything worse.”

rafe’s eyes flicked to yours, his gaze softening slightly at your visible stress. “then we get the evidence,” he said simply, his voice steady.

“we’ll figure it out,” sarah reassured, giving you a small nod. “if it’s stacy, we’ll make sure she doesn’t get away with this.”

you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to push your emotions aside. you had to stay focused. if stacy was behind this, she wouldn’t just regret it—you’d make sure of it.

it was her. it had to be.

hours passed, and the pogues eventually went home. to your surprise, none of them brought up you and rafe, even during the moments he retreated elsewhere briefly. they acted perfectly normal about it, which somehow unsettled you more than if they’d confronted you outright. the silence felt heavier than words.

rafe had left you in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket tucked beneath your chin. now, he sat in his office, his jaw tight as he scrolled through emails from rob—each one filled with dead ends and pointless leads. his stress was evident, his hand dragging down his face in frustration while his leg bounced uncontrollably beneath the desk.

his eyes flicked to the painting on the wall, knowing exactly what was behind it: the safe that held passports, emergency cash, and, most importantly, his gun. john b’s words replayed in his mind like a broken record: we think it’s barry.

without hesitation, rafe stood abruptly, striding over to the painting and pulling it aside. he opened the safe, the cold steel of the gun feeling heavy and familiar in his grip. his mind was set.

walking out to the living room, he paused when his eyes landed on you. you were sound asleep on the couch, your blanket pulled up to your chin, lips parted as soft, even breaths escaped them. the sight of you like this—so peaceful, so unaware of the storm brewing in his chest—made him falter for a moment.

but then, his jaw tightened, and his grip on the gun firmed. he leaned against the doorway, watching you for another moment before turning away, his mind already spiraling with what he needed to do next.

you groaned softly, the buzzing of your phone vibrating underneath your pillow pulling you from your sleep. your eyes squinted as you grabbed it, reading the contact on the screen. it didn’t have a name, just a random number, but below it read maybe: kildare police department.

your heart hammered in your chest as you hesitated before pressing the green button and holding the phone to your ear. “hello?” you asked, your voice groggy and uneasy.

“hey, baby,” a familiar voice greeted, and your stomach dropped.

“rafe?” you stammered, your heart racing as panic crept in. “what’s—”

before you could finish, your phone buzzed again, vibrating against your ear. you pulled it away and gasped softly, your breath catching in your throat as the notification popped up.

unknown: your boyfriend shouldn’t have done that. now you’re all alone.

unknown: one image attachment.

with trembling fingers, you opened the photo, only to feel your entire body freeze. it was a picture of you, taken in the exact spot you were sitting right now. it captured the moment you had picked up your phone, your expression clear and startled.

your blood ran cold as you instinctively glanced around the room, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. someone was watching you. someone was here.

“i’m sorry to do this to you, but can you come pick—” rafe began, his voice heavy with frustration as he sighed into the phone. sheriff shoup stood nearby, giving him a disapproving look, clearly unimpressed with his request.

before rafe could finish, your voice came through the line, frantic and low, cutting him off mid-sentence. “rafe! someone’s here. they sent me a picture of me at the house—”

the line suddenly went dead.

rafe froze, the color draining from his face as the silence on the other end of the call sank in. his grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles turning white as panic surged through him. “no, no, no,” he muttered under his breath, his heart pounding in his chest.

he didn’t even bother explaining to shoup before bolting out the door, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. whoever had sent you that picture wasn’t just threatening anymore—they were acting.

and you were alone.

© aerialmirrorss

taglist!: @whatrulookingat11 @ipromiseidk @rrosiitas @percysley @pinklleemonade @tincanhat @chenslucy @furiouscopshepherduniversity @vanessa-rafesgirl @amel1ee @lxvrgirl @munsoncultedits @honeyluvsatj @esquivelbianca @k3nz13a @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @fallingwallsh @landososcar @bambiangels @witchmoon10 @harrys-housewife @littlelamy @fruitcakerafe @stylesbarnesmaybankstarkeymunson @ariana2saucyy @valsmotive @folksmione @prettybabyyyy @wolfstarsimpxx @devinefem @mastylespost @drewwhore @promiscuousg1rl @uhhsoph @aesthetic-lyss @lossfairy @belledawnidk @psychiceaglepeach @yourcrackleflame @ayy1234567

[alchemistc]

Found this in my drafts and decided to finish it up, written before the Abby reveal so we're just pretending that never happened, have some outsider pov of the alt timeline where Tommy and Buck met before Buck was at the 118.

Tommy is being weird. That's the only way Hen can describe it. He's been quiet on calls, none of the usual banter and posturing she's used to; he's been quiet in the station, prone to staring at the space between his lap and the dinner table even as Chim spouts off some ironic quote that would have had him cheesing it up a few weeks previous; he's been quiet as he packs his shit and heads out for his truck. Each afternoon since he'd quietly announced his transfer to the 217, he's been quiet, and it's weird.

Hen's not entirely surprised. Tommy's nothing if not protective of his own feelings - years and years of Gerrard all hanging over their heads even though he'd admitted a few drinks deep one night that he was pretty positive his professionally scathing complaint about Gerrard was very likely what tipped the scales ("Could have been Sal's, though," he'd said with a shrug as his eyes drifted to the head on his beer.). From what she's gleaned off Chim, there's a good chance he'd been an ass in part to protect himself from feeling too bad about losing someone, too (again) - not that that's any type of excuse for the shit he'd had a hand in putting her through. An excuse for the things he's said, in the heat of the moment, in the quiet caverns of life under a shitty captain.

(Stumbled apologies, serious expressions on a face softened only by the shots he'd been buying all night, words said and unsaid between them and the gaping maw between a Chim happy to accept and move on while Hen downed her tequila and waited for the other shoe to drop.)

It's been years since then. Years and years winding between them all, a dozen captains and more than a few transfers of good firefighters away from the 118, and something good and warm and special brewing in their house with the arrival of the captain who'd made family dinners a daily occurrence.

She'd sort of expected Tommy might finally open up, when those family dinners kept going and Nash kept staying and things started to settle into something closer to friendly instead of the soldiers of war camaraderie they'd grown so used to. And maybe he has, to someone who isn't Hen - who'd taken his little efforts to change at face value and refused to put in more work than that for a colleague who'd made mostly bare minimum efforts post-Gerrard, always accepting the new status quo, refusing to make waves. She respects Tommy. Trusts him on the job, and sometimes off of it when they've had a shitty shift and need to decompress before they go home to the people in their lives who can never really understand losing someone to the heat of a fire, to blood loss and blunt force trauma. Doesn't care for him the way Chim seems to, doesn't really desire a closer relationship than the one they've maintained through the turnover of captains and the 48's they pull on occasion.

But Tommy's being weird, and Hen's pretty sure she's the only one who sees it.

She waits until she's sure Chim has a date to hit up Tommy for an after shift drink, and his eyes crinkle around the corners in suspicion because he knows just as well as she that she's putting them in an awkward position without the buffer zone of an extra coworker to fill in the blank spots of the things they don't say to each other. He'll be gone in a week. There's not a single fucking reason for her to try to get to know him better now.

"Sure thing, Wilson," he says, and when he offers to drive them both Hen makes up some excuse about needing her car in case of some Denny related emergency.

---

She expects it to take a while. Ply him with a few drinks, figure out what it is about Howie that always puts Tommy at ease so quickly when they're out like this and try to replicate it - he keeps things close to the vest but Hen has ways of weaseling things out of people once she's got them where she wants them.

Tommy sighs and picks at the label on his bottle. Thins his lips, and stares at her sideways. "I'm seeing someone," he says, in an undertone, and Hen hasn't even taken her first sip from the bottle he'd ordered for her, too, while she scrounged up one of the smaller booths. His eyes dart, like he's checking to make sure no one else is listening, that no one here recognizes him, and Hen - Hen knows that look. She just can't square that look with Mr. Toxic Heterosexuality himself.

Hen takes a sip. Forces herself not to vibrate out of her own skin because - because - because she's gotta wait this shit out. Could be he's found himself attracted to some weird goth chick, or a woman with meat on her bones, in which case he's in for a big ole smack to the head or one of the looks she reserves for when the boys get a little too caught up in their locker room talk.

He darts his gaze up. Meets hers, steady on, for the first time in...weeks, actually, now that she's thinking about it, and the guilt there in his eyes sure is something to behold.

"He's younger," Tommy says, and Hen rolls her tongue over her teeth so she doesn't do something stupid like hone in on that pronoun with either glee or full-on righteous anger.

Hen narrows her eyes instead, and is surprised that he keeps her gaze. She's expecting - unnecessary contrition, or maybe a ducked head or excuses. He chews on the inside of his lip and chuffs out a self deprecating laugh.

"I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing and he still lives in a frat house."

Hen's mind goes somewhere inappropriate, and she has to stop herself from making a truly horrible hand gesture because he can't possibly mean -

He rolls his eyes. "I know where to stick it, Wilson, that's not the issue."

She has about half a million questions queueing - things she's not sure they're close enough to ask, things she doesn't actually want the answer to but stick there in the back of her mind anyway, things she'd never ask someone who'd been kind to her from the outset. "How'd you do it?" he asks, and Hen remembers the way he'd stood, arms crossed and face blank and something sad and vulnerable in his face while she lectured from her red and chrome pulpit. Jesus. He's known. He's known a while.

"I've never exactly been passing," she tells him, and winces at the aggression in her voice, in that statement, in the very existence of the idea. He shoots her a bitchy look that's far more familiar, in line with their normal dynamic. It has her rolling her shoulders back, has her sitting up a little more in her seat. "Is that - are you asking me how to come out?"

Tommy shrugs. Tips his head. "You're the one who wanted to get drinks."

"And if I hadn't asked?"

She knows the answer. The dumbass would have transferred out of the 118 with no one the wiser. Probably fallen off all the group chats, squared with himself for however long it took, decided one way or another who to tell from there. But he's here now, talking to Hen. Telling Hen, the person he's probably the least close to.

Hen sighs. Takes a longer drag off her beer this time while Tommy folds up a piece of the label he's ripped off. She's not gonna be his fucking gay guru. They're not anywhere approaching that close.

He could have lied, though, is the thing. Seems like he's maybe been lying for a while, if the uncharacteristic fidgeting is anything to go by. She knows him under stress, knows him when he's walking through literal fire. Figurative fire is an entirely different matter. She doesn't know that Tommy.

The words that fall out of her mouth aren't the ones she's aiming for. "You and Sal." she says, and then bites down the rest of that sentence like it'll burn them both. His eyes dart up. He shifts in his seat.

"The only reason I'm saying a word is because the answer is no," he says, and - yeah that's fair. Everyone has the right to come out of the closet in their own fucking time.

"So this kid," Hen says, moving on, and - oh. There's that look. It's a little dreamy-eyed, the way he's been getting sometimes when he's looking down at his phone and trying his hardest to keep a straight face. "What's the deal there?"

"He's new," Tommy says, and Hen can feel her brow tic up of it's own accord, because he says it with the authority of someone who isn't new. Hen has to wonder exactly how many times the perpetually single Tommy joke had been made while Tommy was less than single. God, that had to have stung, hadn't it? "He's - apparently he didn't realize he was flirting until I kissed him about it."

That's remarkably brave for a man who isn't out to a single person he and Hen are mutually acquainted with. At least as far as she knows - Chim can't keep a secret to save his damn life so at least she knows he doesn't know.

"You know you didn't have to tell me any of this."

His expression is wry. He bites his lip, curls his tongue over his teeth, shakes his head like he's clearing cobwebs. "The transfer isn't the only thing I had on the docket for major life changes."

Karen's gonna be pissed if Hen doesn't get the dirt, she tells herself as she leans forward, so she throws a teasing edge to her voice as she quirks a brow. "This life change have anything to do with your baby gay or is that just a natural progression of the coming out process?"

Tommy's posture eases, just a little. He gives her a look that she's more familiar with seeing when Chim's in the booth next to him, or they're elbow deep in shit-talk at the station.

"Happy accident, actually," he says, and Hen leans in to listen to him dish when his eyes go all soft and gooey.

___

She's known Evan Buckley a total of six hours the first time he mentions his boyfriend. There's a nervous edge to it, like he's still testing the word out, like the syllables are unfamiliar, and he glances down at the phone in his lap right after he says it, like he's double checking something. Hen wouldn't have pegged him for it, for all that she tends not to make assumptions. It's just. He's so.

Hen shoves back against the stereotypical bullshit and throws him a bone, because he looks like he's fucking desperate to share information on the fact that someone cares enough about him to let him call them his boyfriend. She lobs a layup, something relatable about 'my wife, Karen'.

"Yeah, Tommy said you were married."

Hen pauses. Wonders if she can turn her head like an owl so that she doesn't have to shift her weight to look behind her at where Buck is happily washing dishes, elbow-deep in sudsy water. There's no one else up here with them - most of the shift is working off dinner downstairs.

"We never have meals like this at home, I'm lucky if the guys I live with don't steal my last packet of ramen before I can get to it," he'd said, and she remembers Tommy grinning at the memory of this Evan he'd been seeing being inordinately impressed by the fact that Tommy could grill a steak. ("Jesus, Kinard, are you sure you're not robbing the fucking cradle?")

Hen shifts. Eyes him a little more carefully as he turns his head to meet her gaze, and - holy shit, she's actually feeling a little protective of Tommy Kinard right now. "He know you're out here sharing his business?" It's not the tone she's going for - admonishing instead of exploratory, but Buck just grins at her over his shoulder, like he's pleased Tommy has someone watching out for him. Shit. She'd been a little concerned that Tommy was in over his head, stuck up on the idea of being out out and clinging to the first boy that batted his lashes, but it feels like maybe there's more to it than that. She can't square that with what has to be at least a decade of years between them, but -

Love is love, and all that.

"We, uh. We've been talking about it."

Hen raises an eyebrow, because that's not actually a green light to air Tommy's business.

"He - well last night we talked about it again. So. I mean it's not like Facebook official or anything. But he said it was cool to talk to you. A-all of you. He's - everyone at Harbor knows me."

It hurts a bit to know that Tommy's been there less than six months and felt more comfortable being himself with a bunch of strangers, but...

It's good. That he has that. That he's not walking the world just shoving bits and pieces of himself away.

Hen watches him rinse his arms and square his shoulders and shift to face her. "How'd you two meet, anyway?" she asks, because Tommy had been so stuck on the trying to figure out how to have an honest relationship piece that she'd never gotten around to asking.

Buck's expression could be easily mistaken for a solar flare, for the way it lights up the whole loft.

[dazevi]

thinking about vi in a suit...

cw: vi x reader, fluff, smut (18+ mdni); bottom!vi, top!reader, fingering (vi! receiving), semi-public sex | masterlist

thinking about vi who absolutely hates the idea of wearing one and can’t understand why she can’t just wear something comfortable to this formal party you’re taking her to.

thinking about vi who grumbles under her breath but agrees anyway because, well, she’d do just about anything for you.

thinking about vi who looks so pretty and handsome at the same time and she starts to get why people might like this whole dressing up thing when she sees herself in the mirror—a sleek but slightly baggy black suit, snug in all the right places, showing off her broad shoulders and toned build. but what really sells it is the way you keep stealing glances at her, biting your lip, humming in approval, all while you squirm in your seat, thighs she’d very much like to be in between pressing against each other.

thinking about vi who sticks close to you at first, still feeling a little out of her element at the actual party. it really does help that you look so stunning tonight, dressed in a sexy gown that pretty much distracts her from every other thought crowding in her mind.

thinking about vi who quickly notices the subtle changes in your behavior throughout the night. you’re touching her more—adjusting her tie, smoothing her lapel, fixing her belt, tucking in her shirt properly. and when you lean in close, pretending to whisper in her ear about something but really just breathing in her cologne, she picks up on it immediately.

thinking about vi who can’t help the smug grin spreading across her face when you finally pull her away from the party by her tie, dragging her to some secluded hallway or empty room.

thinking about vi who asks breathlessly against your lips, “what’s wrong, princess?” you’re too worked up to play along, and when you push her against the wall, she lets out a low chuckle, tilting her head back slightly to look at you.

thinking about vi who likes it when you’re all handsy, clawing at the suit, wanting to get it off her, despite working so very hard to convince her to wear one.

thinking about helping vi slip her pants down slightly so you can put a hand into those checkered boxers of hers, feeling her happy trail against your wrist and how wet she is against your fingers. she groans and mutters lowly, “baby, please…” then leans her head back against the wall behind her when you finally slip inside her.

thinking about vi who is struggling so much to stay quiet, whimpering so prettily and breathing so heavily against you when you fuck her harder and faster, her hands gripping your dress for some sort of leverage.

thinking about vi who cums hard around your fingers, wet and sticky, while your other hand pulls her by her tie to crash her lipstick-stained lips against yours as she whimpers into your mouth, her body still trembling.

thinking about vi who looks so good standing slumped against the wall, her hair all tousled, your lipstick slightly smeared across her lips, some red marks peppered on her cheeks and jaw, black tie loosened around neck, her tattoos peeking out under her collar, her blazer almost slipping off her shoulders, one side of her buttoned shirt untucked and her pants loose with her belt undone at her waist.

and with a smirk tugging on the corner of her lips, she says, “hah… think i should wear this more often…”

note: if anyone knows who made the fanart pls let me know so i can properly credit them ! ( found it on pinterest and could not find a name for my life )

[naamahdarling]

This makes me livid.

I'm not going to assume this family wasn't knowledgeable or doing their utmost. I'm assuming they were doing everything they could.

But I need you to know.

This is not how it has to be, and there are things you can do to prevent this. Please do them so that you aren't stuck hoping to die or hoping your loved one will die.

If you or a loved one has a lot of medical debt or you know they will incur it, check laws in your state. Know your rights. We should not have to do this, but WE DO.

A person's will and how it is laid out has an effect on how and in what order debts are deducted from the estate, which can sometimes affect how much money beneficiaries get. If you have beneficiaries, get your wills in order! Get things set up to benefit debtors as little as possible. There are things that might be able to be done. If someone involved is disabled, find an estate lawyer experienced in their specific form of disability benefits (company, government/SSI/SSDI, etc.).

Spouses are NOT necessarily responsible for their partner's medical debt. The estate of the deceased IS, but individual debt collectors from clinics or care facilities are severely limited in what they are allowed to collect on from the actual survivors. DO NOT TRUST THEM IF THEY SAY THEY CAN. There are laws about them not being allowed to lie to you but they will still try. My ex worked in the industry for YEARS and was extremely aware of the predatory shit shady companies or even just shitty individual agents would pull. Never trust a debt collector. Ever. Know your rights, understand debt collection, record all calls.

In some cases, especially involving state funding of end of life care, and situations involving disabled folks (deceased or beneficiaries), the state may not legally be able to evict a survivor to collect that debt from the liquidated estate (i.e. selling the house after kicking you out).

Children are almost NEVER liable for ANY FORM OF parental debt.

Never ever ever pay a single penny on a debt you did not cosign or take on yourself. Do not even verbally acknowledge the debt on the phone. Claim to be unaware of it and state that it is not yours until they show proof. In general, unless it's trivial, and you do intend to pay right away or make arrangements right away, don't acknowledge even debts that are yours, not even verbally, until they have proven to you that you owe them, and force collectors to communicate leaving a paper trail and send you documentation of everything. Record calls using Talker ACR and Talker ACR Helper. If they say you have 90 days to dispute, wait 89 days and then dispute it, even if it is accurate and you know it. If the collector isn't the original place that owned the debt, insist the collection company show proof they own the debt. Contact the original place and see if you can still settle the debt there for less. Delay, deny, defend yourself. Draw things out as long as you can by their rules and seek legal advice. Fight. ACT LIKE THEY DO. BE A HORRIBLE PIECE OF OBSTRUCTIVE NITPICKING SHIT.

If you marry, get a pre-nup that lays out your debt arrangements, do it in a way that keeps your finances and debt as separate as possible. Pre-nups are not just for people who don't trust each other. They are a powerful tool to protect yourselves from predatory practices outside the marriage as well.

YOU CAN PROTECT YOURSELF AND YOUR LOVED ONES. YOU CAN PROTECT YOUR ASSETS. DO NOT LET THIS HORRIBLE SHIT HAPPEN UNOPPOSED, AND NEVER ASSUME THAT THE SYSTEM IS TOTALLY UNSTOPPABLE.

YOU PROBABLY CAN'T KEEP EVERYTHING BUT THEY DEFINITELY CAN'T TAKE EVERYTHING EITHER.

FUCKING FIGHT.

[multific]

Between Doubt and Secrets

Emperor Geta x Reader

Summary: When Geta and Caracalla left to attend to their duties as Emperors, you stayed behind due to sickness. Geta returns he notices just how distant you are, a week passed and he thinks he knows the reason behind your coldness. 

The sound of his boots on the stone floor echoes in the quiet of the palace, each step bringing him closer to you. 

After what feels like an eternity, Geta is done with his daily duties. 

Normally, that would be a relief, a reason to smile.

But tonight, the air between you feels different. It’s heavy with a secret you’ve carried alone for far too long.

You stay by the window, watching the fading light of the setting sun. You were nervous. 

The day is ending.

The news of your child you have known for over three weeks now. The doctor confirmed your suspicion and your heart sank. 

A child wasn’t part of your plan. At least not now.

In truth, it’s thrown everything into chaos. 

But now Geta is back, and the tension in the room is thick.

When he steps into the room, his presence fills the space. 

His eyes immediately find you, but there’s something different about his look tonight. 

It’s not the warmth you’ve grown to know, not the loving look he only gives to you. 

No, tonight his eyes are sharp, suspicious. His brow furrows just slightly as he approaches.

“Where have you been today?” he asks, his voice even, too calm for the question. He was angry.

In the morning he did ask to see you, but you failed to.

For a moment, you stop. 

You weren’t expecting interrogation, weren’t prepared for it. His eyes are searching, like he already knows something.

“I was... outside. Just needed some air.”

He doesn’t immediately respond, but you can see the suspicion in his eyes.

It doesn’t take much for him to read you, to notice when something’s off. To know when you lie.

And for the last week he has been home, something has been off.

“You’ve been distant,” he says after a long pause. “Too distant. I’ve been gone for weeks, and it feels like you’ve shut me out.”

His words cut deep, though you know he doesn’t mean to hurt you. 

He doesn’t understand. 

He hasn’t seen the turmoil you’ve been living with, the fear that’s kept you awake at night.

“I’m not... I’m not shutting you out,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just... a lot has happened while you were gone.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing. 

“What kind of ‘a lot,’ exactly? Have you been seeing someone else while I’ve been gone?”

The accusation hits you like cold water. 

It’s not anger that fills his voice but hurt. 

The kind of hurt that makes your stomach swirl. 

You want to tell him that it’s not like that, that there’s no one else. But the truth is so much more complicated. And far more frightening.

“Geta, no,” you say, your voice trembling. “There’s no one else. I’ve been alone while you were gone. It’s just... I’ve been trying to figure things out.”

He watches you for a long moment, and you see the doubt still in his eyes. 

You know he’s not convinced. 

But you don’t know how to explain the truth. 

How could you tell him that you’re carrying his child when you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself?

How could you tell him that you have been inside all day trying to figure out how to finally tell him?

Especially when he specifically told you he is not ready for a child. Only the senators demand such a thing. And he doesn't want to give into their needs.

He had enough to care for already, the Empires, his brother and now this.

For a long moment, the room is silent. You tried to collect your thoughts as you played with the hem of your dress.

You and Geta loved each other. Your love was known far and wide for its fire.

Then, finally, you collect yourself. You took a deep breath and realized, you needed to say it.

“Geta... there’s something I must tell you.”

His eyes shoot up to yours, but he doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t say a word. He just waits, watching you closely, as if bracing himself for whatever you’re about to say. He prepared for the worst, he is scared you are about to break his heart.

“I’m pregnant,” you finally say. The weight now lifting from your shoulders but it fills the room instead.

The silence that follows is thicker than the air.  Almost makes in impossible to breathe.

His expression shifts from one of anger to one of pure confusion. 

He was a smart man, he probably connected the events already.

“Pregnant?” he repeats, voice low. “But... how? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” you whisper, your hands trembling as you spoke. “I wasn’t sure what to think, and... I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” he shakes his head. “I... I don’t understand. I thought you were... I thought you were pulling away from me, that you found someone.”

“How can I find anyone Geta? I love you so much. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t expect this. I didn’t plan for it. And what you said about the senators... I was scared.”

He falls silent, staring at you for a long time, as if frozen in time. He realised it was all his fault. That day, he spoke out of anger, he didn't realise just how much pressure that put on you.

In reality, he always wanted a child with you, just on your own terms.

After a moment, he steps closer, his hands trembling as they reach out to you.

“Are you truly pregnant?”

You nod, and a single tear slips down your cheek. The weight that’s been crushing you lifts just a little.

Then, without warning, Geta pulls you into his arms. 

It’s a sudden and tight hug as if he’s afraid to let go of you. 

His embrace is tight, warm, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to believe that everything will be okay.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought... you didn’t want me anymore.”

You pull back slightly to look at him, searching his eyes, you offer him a warm smile. 

“I do want you. I just... I was scared. This wasn’t how I imagined it would happen.”

He brushes a hand over your stomach gently. 

“You’re carrying our child, the future of Rome.” he says softly, the disbelief still evident in his voice.

“I am,” you reply, your voice catching in your throat.

His hand rests on your stomach, his fingers warm and protective. "I'm not leaving your side again. And what I said about the senators... I don't care for them. I care for you, I love you. I will protect you and our child. I promise."

For the first time in weeks, you allow yourself to breathe. 

“We’ll be okay,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him, but he hears it.

Geta presses a soft kiss to your lips, pulling you close again. His voice and heart beat fill you with hope. 

“I promise.” he whispered again. 

And you knew Geta always kept his promise.

Suddenly, your baby felt like a blessing. The future of Rome and you.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief  

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @brevlada24

@mel-vaz @akamitrani @ange-olras @nicholaschavezslut69

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[spidercat2099]

Nanami single dad au

Fluff-ish, Nanami’s sweet as hell in this

The blond man in the office always kept to himself. He was a hard worker and hardly talked to any of the other coworkers unless it was necessary. That's why, when you asked him out, he was in utter shock. Why would you want to go out with him out of all people? He asked himself.

He didn't say no though. His eyebrows raised and he asked you to clarify that you were actually asking him out.

"It's alright if you don't want to-" You began, but he cut you off quickly.

"No, no." His hands waved you down. "I'm..." He thought for a bit before speaking again. "I'm free Friday night. How does 7:30 sound?" He asked.

"I would like that." You responded, a slight smile tugging on your lips as you were excited he accepted. You were already picking out your clothes and looking for a new makeup look to impress him.

...

You'd been out with Kento for a couple of months already. It seemed like things were going well until he put on a serious face and cleared his throat.

"Miss y/n, I have to be honest with you on something." he began to say.

Your heart began to beat quickly from anticipation. You were worried it would be something bad. "Go ahead." You nod.

"I've enjoyed spending time with you, but it has been selfish of me to keep this going without telling you the truth." It seemed like he felt really guilty as he looked down at his clasped hands on the table. But if he enjoyed time with you, what could be wrong?

"I... I have a kid." He said as he looked up at you through his glasses.

Your eyes widened. You hadn't really expected him to be a father. "A... a kid?" You blink.

"I assume you wouldn't have known that before you even asked me out. I understand it's not a situation any woman would be willing to jump into. So, I wouldn't fault you for deciding to not go out with me again."

You begin to think, was there a sign you missed? Was it obvious? Wait... does he have a wife? You snap out of your thoughts. "And your wife?" you asked, not realizing how blunt you sounded.

His face shot up at the blunt question. "She... she passed away..." He looked away, now having a solemn look on his face. "Like I said, I understand if you don't want to continue-"

"Do you have pictures?" you asked leaning forward a bit. His eyebrows raised in the middle.

"Pictures?" He asked.

"O-Of the kid... how old are they?" His hand hesitantly pulled out his phone. He wasn't sure what this meant.

"His name's Yuji. He's 3 years old. He's a troublemaker but he's a good kid." He looked through his photo app for that album he had of Yuji. You could tell he was proud to have him as he showed you the pictures, telling you the backstory of each.

If you didn't already have a fat crush on this man, you definitely did now. The way he smiled at his kid was too cute.

When he finished showing you the pictures, he set his phone down and sighed. "I... appreciate you being this kind to me. But as I said, I don't expect you to want to jump into this situation. You're a young beautiful girl who I'm sure will find a man who doesn't have someone else's kid. It's a big burden-"

"Kento..." You cut him off. You didn't want to hear him be so somber on his "situation". Especially when you think about how proud he is of his kid and how hard he must work for him.

"I... I like you a lot. You having a kid isn't some kind of burden. We're both adults."

"I know that, I just don't want you to force yourself into a role you're not ready for just because you want to be with me."

"You're not forcing me to do anything." you grab his hand. "I'm deciding I still want to go out with you."

"You... you are?" He seemed touched but also in disbelief. You nod. You always knew how to surprise him. He wanted to believe it. That you were different, maybe that you were even the one that he was meant to be with. You were perfect. That's why he hadn't told you sooner, he wanted to hold on to that fantasy a bit longer. But he knew he still had to be realistic. After all, you could change your mind at any point.

Later that night, he drove you home. He opened the car door for you as you stepped out. He leaned onto the car slightly as he looked at you. "You're a very lovely lady, y/n..."

You smiled, getting closer to him as you adjusted his already neat tie. "And you're a very lovely gentleman, Kento." Your hand then flattened against his chest as your eyes made their way up to his. His head was tilted looking down at you.

Slowly, you came closer and his hand came up to rest on your waist. Your lips slowly join together with his. For a second, you pull back, just to join them again but with a bit more passion. Your hand made its way to the base of his neck as he pulled you closer. It was getting harder to leave it as just a kiss goodbye.

You wanted him. And you wanted him bad. Your breaths mingled together as your heads tilted every so often to deepen the kiss. Hid hand couldn't help but make it's way down your waist, close enough to grab your-

Beep, beep.

His phone rang and he pulled it out. He breathed heavily as he read the message. "That's... the babysitter." He explained before putting it away. "I'm sorry. I have to go." His eyebrows tilted up in the middle, feeling guilty once again for cutting things so short.

You breathe out. "It's... it's alright. Don't worry about it." You step back a bit to allow him to leave. He wasn't sure but he knew it could very well be the last time you both go out, regardless of what you said. You could've just been trying to be nice and just let him down easy later or decided to ghost him. And he didn't like that this was how the night had to end.

...

Things had gone normally for the next few weeks. You'd talk to him whenever you could at work, spend breaks together, and go out on the weekends. It seemed like things were going well.

Then, one day. He saw you at your desk while some guy leaned over it and spoke to you. He looked like he was closer to your age. And he had you laughing.

Kento wasn't a jealous person, but for some reason, he felt a pang in his heart. Like you could be taken from him at any moment and his fantasy would go down the drain. Especially when he though that's what you deserved. A guy your age who you could decide to have a family with.

Instead of walking over to say hi to you like usual, he just passed by to go to his own desk. You hadn't even noticed, since you'd been busy talking to the other guy.

Later in the day, Kento heard your voice call to him. He looked up from his computer to see you standing next to him. "Hey..." He said with a soft smile.

"Hey... I know we usually go out on Friday's but I'll have to cancel today." His heart had that same feeling again. Could it be that you realized you'd be better off without him? That the other guy was better? Maybe you'd decided to go out with him instead.

"Oh..." He said, his eyes looking away from you now. That's the one thing he always looked forward to after work.

"It's not anything serious, I just-" Then your watch began to ring. You had a meeting to go to, just sparing a minute to talk to Kento. "Sorry, I'll talk to you after the shift, okay?" You said as you left.

Kento wanted to tell you he was leaving early. The daycare only had a half day today. Of course, you wouldn't have known that. You don't have a kid, you wouldn't keep track of when schools are open. So he decided to text it to you, seeing as he won't see you that day at all. He'd have to wait until you texted him back, or until Monday to see you again.

But you never did. Not that day. Not the rest of the weekend. Was he right? You were ghosting him? Were you that type of girl?

...

On Sunday, he went to the grocery store with Yuji. It was raining, but they were in desperate need of food. So he just zipped up Yuji in a cute yellow jacket, carrying him in one arm as his other hand carried an umbrella over both of them.

It wasn't anything special as he walked around the store with Youji's hand holding his. Except, he couldn't stop thinking of you and what you were doing. Why you hadn't responded to any of his texts. He'd read a can and slowly get distracted by those thoughts until Yuji pulled on his hand because he got bored of that aisle.

After long enough, he picked up Yuji again, the other hand full of groceries and the umbrella. As he turned he saw... you.

He froze for a second, unsure if it was his imagination. You didn't live on this side of town, why would you be at the grocery store here?

"Papa, are you gonna move?" Yuji asked, poking Kento's face. "Y-Yeah, we'll go home."

When you heard that familiar voice, you looked up. His eyes widened as he realized it was truly you. You were wet, with nothing but a sweater on to protect you from the rain. No umbrella, no jacket. Just the awning of the store you stood under.

"Kento?" You called out. Yuji looked at you too, unsure of what was going on. Why was it so quiet? He just wanted to go home.

"Who's that?" He asked, pointing in your direction. "She's... a friend from work." You weren't fond of that response, but you knew how careful Kento had to be when the relationship hadn't even been established yet.

You were endeared by Yuji. He was even cuter in person. "Oh my God is that Yuji?" you got closer pinching his chubby cheeks gently. "Aren't you the most adorable thing ever?" Yuji definitely enjoyed the attention. He was giggling a lot.

"He likes you..." Kento said as he looked at his son's expression. "What are you doing on this side of town? You don't live near here." He couldn't help but feel curious.

"I left my phone at the office and the boss said I'd only be able to pick it up today. Halfway through walking here, it started to pour, can you believe that?" Your eyebrows furrowed as you frowned.

"Bad luck, huh?" he said, trying to keep it light although he was slightly upset with you.

"Don't get me started." You looked at him with a frustrated expression, but it also felt aimed at him for some reason? But he couldn't tell why you'd be upset with him.

You held your own arms to keep yourself warm again as you turned your body away from him. "My house isn't too far from here, we should get you out of this rain." He moved his umbrella so you'd be under it too.

"Fine." Although you were upset, you couldn't deny you were freezing, and the office was still a long walk from here.

The walk home was quiet and Yuji had fallen asleep in Kento's arm. As he grabbed his key and began to unlock the door, he began to say "I would've invited you here on better circumstances, but-"

"It's fine." You said, not bothering to sweeten up your tone.

He took that as a sign that you were upset and didn't push any further. He led you in. "I'll be back in a second, I'll just go put Yuji down."

You stood by the door, sopping wet. You didn't sit down, as to not wet his couch.

He came back with some clothes in his hand, presumably for you to change into. He chuckled lightly as he looked at your usually perfectly styled hair frizzing up into curls. "Curly hair?" he asked as his hand picked up a strand an grazed it. It was funny to him that you two had been seeing each other for a while and he didn't know until now.

You turn away, your hair falling from his grasp.

"Miss y/n, I can't help but feel you're upset with me."

"Why wouldn't I be upset?" You said as you looked up at him.

"I don't know. You haven't told me. If anything I'm the one who should be upset with you." His own eyebrows furrowed at your hostility.

"Upset with me? You blew me off on Friday." You defend.

"Blew you off? You said you were busy."

"I meant when I was going to explain why I was busy. I waited for you but you didn't show. Next thing I know, the boss tells me you left early and you didn't even bother telling me?"

"I did. I texted you. Several times actually, and you didn't respond to any of them. I understand I told you that you're not obligated to continue going out with me but I had at least expected you to tell me." His eyebrows tilted upward again. You could tell he was just upset but hurt too.

"That's not it at all! I was not ghosting you if that's what you think." You defend quickly.

"You... weren't? Then why didn't you send a text back?" He asked, his shoulders relaxing just a bit.

"My phone had broken at the office and I wanted to go get it fixed on Friday, that's why I said I couldn't go on the date with you." You explained.

"That's why... you didn't get my message..." He realized. His hand runs through his hair in relief. You hadn't changed your mind.

"Why would you think I'd ghost you?" You asked, crossing your arms. Just a bit shaky from the cold.

"You're freezing, miss y/n. You should go take a shower and change." He lightly guided you to the bathroom.

"Kento, wait. You have to say why you thought that." You turned around to face him when you got into the bathroom. You didn't want him to get away with that. Did he really think you'd do that to him? He thinks you're the type of person to do that after a while of dating?

He sighed putting the clothes on the counter and leaning on the doorframe. "We can discuss it after you shower, okay? I don't want you soaking wet and freezing, you'll catch a cold." His thumb came up to your cheek to lightly caress it. "Please?"

Your cheeks tinged pink and your heart raced. You were still a bit upset but you couldn't help but be touched by him caring for you like that. "Fine," you mumbled, slowly closing the door and starting the shower.

...

You come out of the bathroom, practically swimming in his big clothes. He waited for you on the couch, reading a book in his comfy clothes as well. He looked up at you. "Too big?" He asked, holding back a smile. It was a bit attractive seeing you in his clothes like that.

You scoff, also holding back a smile. "Only cause you're too big." You walked over to sit next to him, not too close. You bit your cheek as you continued to hold your grudge. "So?" You asked, glancing at him. Hinting for him to explain now.

He sighed. "It's not anything against you, y/n. I just... haven't had the best experience with these things. Usually, women run at the first hint of me having a kid. That's why I gave up dating for a while. And when I saw you with that guy, I thought you might've changed your mind..."

You raise an eyebrow. "That guy?" You had to recollect your memories to figure out what he was talking about.

"On Friday. He was by your desk and making you laugh and everything. I thought you realized you'd be better off with someone like him."

"You thought I ditched you for him?" You asked, a bit in disbelief. Sure, maybe a different girl would've but... you were head over heels in love with Kento. Some random guy wasn't gonna change that. "That guy... has nothing on you, Kento." You admit. Your hand reached for his. "I told you, I like you a whole lot..." your eyes move from your hand to his face. "Do I not say it enough?"

"Well..." his ears began to heat up. You said it more than enough. "I just thought since we haven't established anything yet, you'd still look for other options. After all that would be fair."

"Are you looking for other options?" you ask.

He shakes his head slowly.

"The only reason there isn't anything established is because you haven't asked for me to establish it." You explain.

"Would... you want that?" he asked, his hand tightening its grip on yours a bit. You nod in a way that says 'duh'. He was usually a smart man, hell, he was the best employee in the company, but for some reason, he always second-guessed himself with this relationship.

He got up, not saying a word as he left. You were left a bit confused, you weren't sure where he went or if he was coming back.

But he came back quickly. He had a bouquet of roses in his hand and a box. Your eyes were wide. "This was meant for last Friday. Unless you'd like me to wait until next Friday. We're not out or well dressed so maybe it's not the best-"

You cut him off again. "What's that for?" You asked, looking at the things in his hand. He sat down next to you. "I was going to ask if you wanted to... be my girlfriend?" He asked. He placed the flowers on the table and handed you the box. "It's a necklace."

You were in shock. You really missed out on a great proposal just cause your phone broke? "Kento, you're so sweet. Of course, I would."

You placed the necklace next to the flowers, kissing him immediately. "I'll... do it again on Friday..." He said between your kisses. You didn't care. All you cared about was him. "New flowers... dinner... I'll ask again... make it special..."

...

You were nestled into Kento's arm as you both watched a movie. Kento fell asleep first. So he didn't notice when Yuji came out of his room searching for him. He dragged his blanket on the floor as he rubbed his eye.

Without a word, he crawled into the space between you both, nuzzling into Kento as he placed his own blanket on himself. You couldn't help but feel this sweet moment was exactly how your life was meant to be.

[wtfaniii]

I can do it alone, but he can also save me

Fem reader x Hwang In-ho / Fem reader x Hwang Jun-ho

Part 1 // Part 2

•Summary: Jun-ho's girlfriend was a decorated policegirl, strong and brave, she, along with Gi-hun were taken to the games to stop them, however, there was a setback in between

•Note: Thanks for the support! Here I bring you the second part of this one shot that is personally one of my favorites.

•Warning: Maybe some drama, Some violence and attempted abuse, ¡Don't worry! this man arrives on time like a prince on a white horse

N/A: I haven't checked this yet, sorry if it has spelling mistakes

Gi-hun had told some participants that the next game would be dalgona, but it was not so and now they were upset with him, surrounding him and complaining about his mistake, calling him a "liar."

—You guys decided to play these games —the girl said standing in front of Gi-hun —Face the consequences and don't expect someone to come and save us.

—He's a fraud! —Player 100 shouted at him, pointing at accusingly and with contempt.

—ibelieve in him word —001 interrupted, standing next to her.

Due to the first impression that the two made on all the players, the complaints immediately stopped and retreated.

—It's nothing, I really believe you —Young-il said with a friendly expression

—And if you allow me... I would like to be on your team.

The next game would be in teams of five players, counting the girl, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho and now Young-il, they were full, however, when they were talking to get to know each other a little, a woman with the number 222 on his uniform approached them cautiously.

—¿Can I be on your team? Please —Jung-bae was going to interrupt her to tell that they were full but the young woman finished his sentence first —I'm pregnant.

The five pairs of eyes fell on the small bulge of her belly and noticed that it was true. Immediately, the woman spoke. —I'll look for another team.

—¿Are you sure you'll do it?— In-ho asked, looking at her carefully. A person who looked out for someone else's well-being in these games was rare to see, but considering the situation, it was quite understandable. He wouldn't give up his place if he wasn't so interested in his enemy.

She nodded confidently and left to find another team, it didn't take long, after all, most people took advantage of having someone like her on their team just by considering the word "police" in their introduction.

Once the teams were formed and they were told what had to do, they sat on the floor to wait the turn.

As time passed and gunshots mixed with screams sounded in the background, the young woman thought silently.

¿Will Jun-ho be okay? She really hoped so, she had known him for four years and knew that there were times when he could go to extremes to get what wanted.

It was something she loved about him but right now just worried about.

—¿What game are you going to play? —246 asked sitting next to her, momentarily taking her out of his thoughts.

—Gonggi —answered immediately, she was very good at that game, it had been his favorite since she was a child.

The others nodded and continued talking, she didn't go there with the intention of socializing too much.

For starters.

She was only there because Jun-ho had asked her to.

Jun-ho...

She just hoped him could find her and Gi-hun in time.

The policeman had no intention of stopping now, even without having the tracker active and with the fact that apparently someone was sabotaging them from inside, he was not going to stop searching.

The woman he loved was in those games, that wasn't going to be the plan, she was only supposed to be Gi-hun's bodyguard but things didn't go as planned.

—I think we should stop, it's almost time to eat and we're a bit far from the shore.

—We can't be so close now —he said, somewhat irritated and helpless. —Every minute they spend on that island is a danger.

He felt guilty for having dragged her into his own problems.

He remembered the last conversation he had with her before he lost sight of her.

[...]

—We are police officers —Jun-ho said, showing his badge to the guard who was guarding the entrance of the place

—Just like everyone else tonight —the man said with a mocking laugh, pointing at the long line waiting to get into the Halloween party.

Jun-ho didn't have enough patience to tolerate this, so with no other choice he went up to the man and took his gun out of his pocket.

—¿Do you want to see if this is a toy?

The guard stepped back in fear, giving them free passage.

The girl smiled proudly and waved her hand as if it were hot while sighed.

—That's my man —she boasted to the guard as they crossed the entrance. Jun-ho managed to hear her and inevitably a sly smile appeared on his lips.

—We have to find him before they do —he said, referring to Gi-hun searching the crowd but no masked pink guard was visible.

—It will be faster if we separate —she added, taking out her weapon and pointing it at the ground just to be ready in case used it —When we leave here it will be fondue night —she said without losing her charming touch.

It was something they both shared, despite being in tense situations like this, comments like that were never lacking, especially from the girl and that was something Jun-ho adored, her daring was part of what made the policeman fall in love with her.

—Maybe I should drag you into my problems more often —He replied with a smile and separated from her.

The girl was the first to find Gi-hun and surprisingly they let her get into the limo with him.

Jun-ho was unhappy about that but he couldn't change her mind and just when they thought they could intercept the front man of those suicide games they were forced to make a last-minute decision by shooting at the tires of the cars.

[...]

His stomach turned just remembering what people go through inside those games, he trusted that she could survive but the odds of not making him tremble and want to vomit.

—Okay... we'll call off the search —He relented after a few minutes.

He looked up at the sky and asked whoever would listen him to keep the woman he loves alive.

Meanwhile on the island, they had managed to get through the second game alive, she was sitting with Gi-hun's team silently watching around them when 001 sat next to her.

—Hi... —he greeted her with a soft smile, hoping that the mask being Young-il was convincing enough to fool her —I'm curious... if you're a police officer, ¿how did you end up here?

—¿Debts? —She replied with a false smile —My job was to take care of Mr. Seong but it didn't turn out the way I had in mind —she admitted, looking away again but feeling Young-il's intense gaze on her.

—So... ¿you're here as an undercover agent? —he asked, feigning surprise and curiosity.

He himself was the one who gave the order to allow her to also get into the limousine to accompany Gi-hun.

In-ho knew his brother would be worried about her, searching for her relentlessly, but it was inevitable, he needed to meet her in person and be sure how good of an influence she was on Jun-ho.

Or at least he thought it was a good excuse.

—Yeah... —She looked at him silently and attentively when she noticed a certain peculiarity in him appearance —¿Do I know you from somewhere? I feel like I've seen you before...

Him face seemed familiar but she couldn't figure out why. In-ho kept eye contact with her, waiting for her answer.

It was a pity, if she recognize it him had no other option to let her die in the next games but luckily for the girl she denied it.

—Forget it, I'm just stressed ¿And why are you here?

—My wife is sick and pregnant.

She looked at him with pity as he told her his story, it wasn't a lie, it was just that it happened years ago and he couldn't do anything to keep her alive.

—I'm sorry —The girl said after he finished his words.—I promise we'll get out of here and I'll help you as much as I can with the expenses.

The police had money, not to say that she was a millionaire but she lived in a good social status, she was willing to help him only because her heart was softened by him story.

–You barely know me, ¿why would you do that?

—My boyfriend has also had a somewhat hard life and I took this job for a reason, to help others.

She did not consider herself a saint, but if she had the opportunity to do something good for other people, she would do it regardless of the consequences.

—Also... I think I'm pregnant —She said with a small smile.

How chaotic and unfair could fate be that just one night before she was to go to the medical laboratory for her results, she was taken to those games against will.

On the other hand, she could also feel a slight connection with this stranger, which was why she revealed that to him so naturally, but she still didn't know exactly why.

—I have to go to the bathroom, I'll be right back.

He nodded and watched her leave but his eyes also noticed three other suspicious looking players who followed her into the bathroom.

Without thinking twice he also stood up.

Not even two minutes had passed since she entered the bathroom when a woman grabbed her by the collar of the jacket and threw her backwards, making her fall on back.

–¿You remember me? —the woman demanded, looking at her with disdain and annoyance

—No —She answered standing up.

—You threw my husband into prison and won't be out for another twenty years —The woman pulled out a small pocket knife and another woman stood behind the police girl to hold her —I thought about how to kill you for days.

—Very cute, I still don't know who you are.

Those words only made the woman even more furious as lunged at her and tried to stab her,

Her hard training served her well in this unarmed fight.

But she was counting on another man to come in to help the two players who were trying to kill the young policewoman.

—Three against one unarmed is not fair... —she gasped for air as saw that he had a small opening in his head, her had hit himself on the sink at one point during the fight.

—¡It was also not fair that my husband was sentenced to twenty years in prison for attempted abuse!

—Oh, believe me, I tried to make it forty.

A kick to the face from one of them managed to stun her long enough to give them time to pin her down on the cold, damp bathroom floor.

She couldn't hear clearly what they were saying but when she saw how the man placed himself on top of her, their intentions were quite clear.

She didn't have enough strength to continue defending himself, her felt bleeding from his leg from the knife and the cut on his head hurt, but like a hero coming to save the day, Young-il walked through the door and shouted "Hey!"

That small interruption was enough for her to hit the man in the genitals with her knee, making him move away and moan in pain.

She was too stunned to see what was happening, but before she knew it, he had her in him arms and walked out of the bathroom leaving the two women unconscious on the floor and the man with a bleeding nose.

—¡You should do a better job as guards! —he yelled at the two pink soldiers guarding the door, she didn't know it but that scolding was enough to fire those two.

He carefully led her to the men's room where, due to his front man advantages, he was able to have a guard deny another player access until he said so.

—Thanks... —Her murmured as he dropped her on the ground—But I had it under control.

She let out a giggle that made his ribs hurt, In-ho refrained from laughing, now he had to focus on fixing her wounds.

—Being a police officer you made many enemies —He said while using his jacket with some water to clean her.

—You have no idea.

In-ho continued to clean her wounds and after a few minutes everything was better for her, the girl stood up cautiously because of the wound on her leg and thanked Young-il with a small bow.

—Thanks for helping me, for the second time.

—I hope it doesn't become routine —he said with a soft smile, looking her up and down unconsciously.

When they came out of the bathroom there were suspicious glances but neither of them cared.

It was cute, she liked the way this man treated whenever her found himself in trouble, in a way he reminded her of Jun-ho,

She liked that even though she could defend herself, there was still a knight in shining armor who would arrive in the worst situations.

Young-il, the gentleman who arrived just in time and the only one who knew about her suspected pregnancy.

tag list:

@raya4643 @lvspedri @iloveoldermen0204 @ravenslocked

[digital-mess]

This is how I stopped going to church, and also stopped being christian lmao I went to a protestant church that had a three hour service every Sunday and I hated it. Half of the service you had to stand. Most of it was singing the gospel. I never paid enough attention to understand what was going on (undiagnosed adhd child) and usually just spent the time counting the seconds until we got to leave I escaped the endless loop of sit-stand-sing-kneel-stand-kneel via stalling. My dad expected us to look our Sunday Best so I did so by taking hour long showers before the service. I'd purposefully lose my dress. I'd take forever getting ready. Via my tactical strategy, I cut the church service by half. I embarrassed my dad so bad because we consistently would show up two hours late to the service and everyone would stare at us each time as we entered through those massive doors to a fully crowded church and have to stand in the back, and I was proud because it meant my work was accomplished and I'd only have 45 minutes left of the service instead of 3 Eventually my dad gave up when I decided that the best way to avoid church was to just tell him I was an atheist. I genuinely believe there's a possibility of me being christain today if i went to a different church, because I hated that single service so fucking much that my 7th grade self would rather change religious beliefs then drink out of the same wine cup as fifty other pasty 70-year-olds again Anyway, sometimes disobedience is doing the thing, but being as inconvenient as possible about it

when i was a kid i had moments of being so fucking diabolical because i realized at some point the best way to leverage power over my family was to do shit that would make everybody late

[dimonds456]

Oh my god I figured it out.

When people say "we need more morally grey characters" and then immediately turn around and accuse morally grey characters of being evil, I think that is directly equivalent to the amount of screentime they have.

Like, people LOVE the characters in Arcane despite none of them being pure people, but people are quick to hate on characters like Ford Pines or Rose Quartz despite them doing similar things because we barely get to know them.

When those people say "we need more morally grey characters," they just mean they want a chance to get to love them.

No no I have proof.

The Pines Twins are pretty equal to each other in different ways about the crimes they've committed and how good they are doing it, but people adore Stan and hate Ford because Stan gets two full seasons of screentime whereas Ford only gets BARELY half a season.

We don't know him as well, and by the time we meet him we already love Stan, so hearing about him shutting the curtains or the "remember our childhood dream? Go live it out without me while doing this thing I need you to do," makes people MUCH quicker to jump to Stan's defense, which online QUICKLY turns to "I hate Ford so much" rather than a genuine conversation about the presented conflict at hand.

Or take anyone in SU. All the main characters make a pretty big bad decision at some point- Pearl left Steven to drop, Amethyst shapeshifted into Rose, ect- but we do forgive them because we love those guys and we have gotten to know them.

But Rose is dead. We can't get to know her and have to piece together who she was through other's retellings of her. The only time we see Rose as herself is in Steven's tape, and even then, her message to him is scripted. So when we find out Rose is Pink, and we see everyone fall apart, instead of trying to understand why she'd do this, people instead jump to "she betrayed everyone, I hate her."

Not saying this is an invalid way to write morally grey characters (please don't stop doing it this way actually), but I AM saying that fandom should be more aware of this from a psychological perspective.

Something to think about.

[eyesonlybutterflies]

Rebound, times two

𝘊𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘦𝘦𝘫𝘢𝘬𝘦

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: dom!Heeseung x f!reader x switch!Jake

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 4.0k

𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰: smut, mention of cheating, drinking (but everything is consensual), tension, praise, petnames, big dick Heeseung and Jake, competitive/competition (and reader is all here for it), possesiveness, desperate reader, Heeseung is so daddy (who said that??) oral (m and f receiving), throat fucking, tit sucking, needy!Jake, hickeys, unprotected sex (pls dont), jealous!Jake, pervy!Jake, sweet!gentleman!amazing!Heeseung, threesome (duh), a little rough?, p in v, slight size kink, face painting, creampie, lmk if i missed anything

18+ 𝓜𝓝𝓓𝓘!!!

𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭

The night was starting to slow down. You and your friends, Heeseung and Jake, had been drinking and playing on your switch for hours. This morning, when dropping off some stuff at home, you caught your boyfriend in bed with another woman. Heeseung and Jake noticed something was off right away and so made plans at theirs to distract you.

After the many hours of sulking, crying, laughing, and so many more emotions and conversations, there are two empty wine bottles and a soju bottle with enough for only one shot left. The alcohol had really kicked in for all three of you, Heeseung was more competitive, Jake was worse and you felt more in your feelings than before. That's how you are, you're a fun drunk until the clock hits midnight and then you become sentimental. Normally in a cute way, like wanting to kiss and hug your friends.

This was definitely not a cute way. Thinking of the times you and your ex used to play games, talking until 3 am drunk, having boxes of pizza laying around lazily. 𝘌𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥.

Jake noticed the shift in your demeanor, 'Y/n, are you okay?' You nod, trying to swallow the tears that were forming again. Jake turned off the switch, which caused a few groans coming from Heeseung, but those were quickly silenced when he saw your state. 'What's wrong, Y/n?' Heeseung asks with concern. You shrug, eyes a bit glassy, 'I'm just missing him I guess.'

They look at each other, however you're not able to read their expression. They turn back to you and plant themselves to either side of you. Jake gently lays a hand on your shoulder and Heeseung firmly places his on you knee. 'It's okay Y/n, we understand if you want to cry, we're here for you.' 'Yeah, we're always here for anything. I mean, a three year relationship is a long time. It's okay to have some trouble getting used to the changes.'

Slow squeezes and rubs ensue. You know they mean well, and yet you can't shake the feeling that these touches have a double meaning. You know they have always found you attractive; the first things coming out of their mouth when they joined your friendgroup two years ago were, 'Oh wow.' and 'Jesus Christ.' with wide eyes and mouths hanging open.

Contrary to your ex, you never felt the need to cheat, even after acknowledging their beauty. It was always friendly, so it always stayed friendly. Except there is no romantic partner in the picture anymore...

'Thank you guys, I really appreciate it.' You say, reaching for your wine glass as you're in desperate need to escape the overwhelming feelings. You know you're single, but it feels so soon to already feel like this about other people.

As you're taking a big sip of the last bits of your wine, Heeseung and Jake simultaneously lean forward, almost like they cordinated it. 'Here, take the last shot. Think of it as drinking away the last bits of that asshole.' Heeseung say as he's stroking your hair and Jake pours the last of the soju in a shot glass.

A big sigh escapes your mouth as you lift the glass and take the shot. 'Fuck that asshole,' you comment as a weird sense of relief washes over you. 'That's my girl.' A blush creeps up your cheek as Heeseung's words register in your mind. Butterflies flying in your stomach and your core flexing.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬? 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴? You assume it's just the alcohol and the weight of the day. You swallow all the thoughts, including the quiet dirty ones, and stand up. 'I'm gonna go, thanks for cheering me up guys, I really appreciate it,' You smile at them, 'I gotta catch some sleep tho before work tomorrow.'

Just when you're standing by the door, ready to open it, you stop. Where are you gonna sleep? You live with your ex and you're not feeling like seeing him, especially not in this state.

Almost as if the two on the couch can read your mind they ask, 'And where are you gonna go?' You stand there for a few seconds. More so trying to sober up than actually think. That's when you immediately sober up when a hand grabs your wrist and turns you around.

Heeseung is standing right in front of you, his expression exposing a certain satisfaction, but you don't know for what. Jake comes closer too, but he's holding the keys to their apartment. Heeseung gently pulls you in so Jake can lock the apartment.

Due to your intoxicated imbalance, you land right on Heeseung's chest. Your free hand settles right on his chest to prevent your head from hitting him. You look up at him, eyes full with surprise and mouth slightly agape. Heeseung smiles, 'Like it, pretty girl?'

In even more shock you look at him. You try to stammer out something, anything, but you just can't. Right after Jake properly locks the door, he moves to stand right behind you. One of his hands comes to rest on your waist and the other tucks your hair behind your ear. 'Calm down, dear, we just want to show you how much better you deserve.'

'Wh-what's going on right now?' You eventuelly get out. 'Oh baby, we couldn't stand seeing you in that relationship.' 'It looked like he never knew how to properly please you. Did he even eat you out once?' A shriek gets past your lips, 𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭? 𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴?

Your bewildered expression brings out a chuckle out of both the boys. 'Y/n, dear, it's so evident he didn't treat you right.' Heeseung states. 'H-how?' 'Trust me, we know how a pleased woman looks.' 'You want to find out for yourself?' Jake whispers in your ear.

Shivers spread throughout your entire body, a part of you feels bad to move on so quickly, but another part of you would fucking love to do it. It's true, your ex wasn't... the best. Never went down on you, focused more on him and only focused on you when your tits were involved. You accepted it all those years since you really did love him and he was perfect in every other aspect.

But the temptation of discovering how far Heeseung and Jake are willing to go, and how far they're willing to go for your pleasure, is growing stronger and stronger.

You nod, and then they smirk.

Heeseung grabs your cheeks softly and comes closer. You shut your eyes really tight and before your lips make contact with his, a small chuckle hits them. Heeseung finds you so adorable; so daring yet so nervous. Once his lips land on yours, you can't seem to let go.

It feels like Heeseung has casted a spell on you and the only thing you can think of are his lips. You don't allow him to stop, or even take a small break to catch his breath. Heeseung clocks what is going on and he can't help but grin. You're so needy.

As your mind is too clouded and the only thing on your mind are Heeseung's lips, you don't even notice Jake softly kissing your neck and pulling your waist closer to his groin. Jake steadily increases the kissing to more hot and wet kisses and slowly starts to grind against your ass, his cock getting more suffocated by the second.

Moans are exchanged from your and Heeseung's mouths, gasping as you finally become aware of what Jake is doing. You latch on to Heeseung's hair for any type of stability. He grunts as he grips your cheeks firmly with one hand, the other going to your wrist trying to release you hand, 'You like it rough, baby?'

Too embarrased, you close your eyes, bite your lip and nod so minute you kind of hope they don't notice. 'Fuck, babe, then you better hold on tight.' Jake murmers from behind.

Jake detaches you from Heeseung's lips and guides you with both hands on your waist to the couch. He spins you around before pushing you. Once you land you finally get to see Jake's face after that whole ordeal.

He looks hungry.

The man in front of you looks like he hasn't eaten in days. Mouth watering, eyes wandering. He licks his lips in a way similar to when you finally get to the delicious desert after a horrible main course. 'God you look so beautiful,' Jake says, unhurriedly closing the distance, almost teasing you. And it's working. Your panties are getting more and more slick and all these praises and petnames are making you go crazy.

Jake is hovering over you now, his face betraying the dilemma in his mind. 'You can touch me.' Eyes shoot up at you and as you two make eye contact, butterflies escape from your belly. He looked good... Like, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥. The starvation in his eyes makes you reconsider everything you've established in this friendship.

'Can I?' Jake asks meekly. You nod and not another moment is wasted before a pair of hands land on your waist. They promptly make their way to your boobs, hands massaging them like they're gifts from whichever god above sent them.

His wide eyes and open mouth snaps something lose inside of you. You swing one of your legs over his lower back and pull him in whilst simultaniously tugging at his shirt. You need friction, doesn't matter of what kind.

'Slow down, baby,' he pants, 'it's not your turn yet.' He slides his way down. His hands grab the back of your thighs firmly, showing you who's in charge. Without warning, he pushes your legs up to your chest, making you yelp. He pushes his face into your clothed cunt, licking at the spots that got stained from your wetness.

'Fuck, yes Jake,' you can't help but gasp. His hands are kneading your legs, his tongue sliding past you slick folds and swollen clit and sending vibrations from the back of his throat to your core. Jake's eyes are closed, really concentrating on making you feel good, but your eyes are strictly on him, anticipating every move.

Eyelids slowly rise, revealing a pussy drunk expression. It quickly turns into a wide smile, 'Was that good?' 'Good? You need to fuck her with your mouth 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 a piece of fabric in between, dumbass.' Heeseung sputters from a distance. He's sitting in a chair opposite the couch, manspreading and observing. 𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘰...

Sudden movement makes your head snap back to Jake as he's effortlessly ripping off your pants. Once you're laying completely bare in front of him, he dives back in. His tongue slides between your folds and holds eye contact with you at the same time. A moan slips out and you grip his hair and let your head fall back. Jake leaves little kisses on he border of your hole, but eventually lands on your clit, swollen, red and aching for touch.

Small licks turn into kisses, however when you let out a whimper Jake's demeanor changes and he starts suctioning your clit. Swirling it with his tongue and moving it with his mouth to get your nerves really stimulated. 'Y/n, you taste so good baby,' Jake groans against your heat, 'will you be good to my tongue?' You nod hastily, not wanting anything else but to get tongue fucked by your friend with a beautiful and filthy mouth

Just when you feel Jake's tongue slide in, you feel an extra set of hands settle on your shoulders. You look up, noticeably enjoying the pleasure by the dazed look on your face. Heeseung chuckles, 'You're enjoying this, princess?' Only thing you can do is nod with starry eyes and a loose jaw.

Heeseung looks you deep into your eyes, picturing it in his mind so he can think of this moment in the future. He takes your jaw into his hand and bends down to place a soft kiss on your lips. He just wanted to tease you a bit, but you were desperate. You grab the back of his neck and continue kissing him. You feel his lips curl into a smile as the kiss deepens fast.

A whine falls from your lips as Jake hits the sweet spot inside you with his tongue, sending shivers down your spine and making you lightheaded. In return, Heeseung softly bites your lip to regain your attention which he quickly gets. He pulls away and says, 'You'll focus on me now, darling. His time has ran out.'

The clasp of his belt is briskly undone and his pants slide down in a swift motion. Even though he's still wearing boxers and you're seeing him upside down, you can tell he's big. He strokes your cheek following the look on your face, 'You can handle it, babe. I know you can.' You gulp before preparing yourself for what's to come.

As if in slow-motion, Heeseung takes of his boxers and his hard, thick, throbbing cock hits his stomach. You almost instinctively reach for his dick, and Heeseung doesn't stop you. With one hand still on Jake's hair, you start to slowly rub his tip. You keep your eyes on Heeseung's face. Every twitch, gasp and surpressed moan going straight to your pussy.

Slow strokes and small rubs to the back of his tip makes him wanna give in and just fuck you right now, but he doesn't. He forces himself to enjoy you jerking him off, even when your attention isn't fully on him. The only thing keeping him together are your eyes, your beautiful eyes, looking straight into his. Eyelashes shuttering so prettily without you even forcing them to do that.

Without warning, your strokes become deeper. Heeseung's cock jerks from the sudden pressure and a moan slips out. 'So pretty,' you manage to get out. Heeseung's mind becomes foggy, everything is starting to blur. He knew you had an effect on him, but this big? No, no he didn't know how much power you have over him.

As your pace starts to increase, you reach out to catch his balls in your mouth. The sight is so beautiful, a low groan slips from Heeseung. Your tongue swirls around his balls, getting them completely soaked in your saliva. Your mouth leaves his balls and the immediate cold has Heeseung whining for more.

Not long after, you plant kisses all over his balls. His length now slightly resting on your face as your hand is playing with his tip. 'Shit, baby, let me fuck that pretty mouth please.' Your face beams, you're loving every second of Heeseung's desperation.

However the eye contact is broken as a whimper comes out of your mouth and your eyes shoot to the man in between your legs. His eyes dark as he softly bites your clit again. 'Is it time to fuck your sweet pussy?' Jake questions with his voice so low, it rasps a little. 'Fuck, Jake, put that cock in me,' you give him exactly what he wants.

His poor dick has been grinding against the couch, wishing to be in Heeseung's position for far too long. Your pussy tastes amazing, but the way your hole clenched his tongue as he tongue-fucked you made his self-restrain grow thinner and thinner. His clothes are off in a second and as he's pumping is already leaking penis, he watches you and Heeseung get undressed too.

Once it's time for your bra, both Heeseung and Jake watch you like wolves examining their prey. You're not dumb, you notice them looking at you with such intense, lustful eyes. So you put on a show. Your fingers are slow to unhook your clasp. Once it's unattached, you slip your arms out of the straps, but you hold your breasts as to not expose them prematurely.

'Take them off.' Jake's voice is stern as he's stroking his dick. You smirk before dropping your bra. You hear stubby growls from above and below you. Both boys rubbing themselves, waiting to see what the other is gonna do to you. And then... the moment changes.

Both boys try their best to reach you first, Jake almost climbs over you and Heeseung dips his upper body. They claim their own boob and start making you feel good. Jake is sucking on your nipple whilst moaning into your tit and looking up at you with already fucked-out, puppy eyes. Heeseung is biting your nipple, liking the jolts he sends your body into. Your boobs jiggles everytime Heeseung slightly gnaws at it and it's making the two boys go crazy.

Suddenly, you feel a finger go back down your heat. Jake can't stop touching you, he has to touch you. He starts fingering you again, his long fingers reaching your G-spot, making your back arch beautifully. 'Fuck, oh my god,' your moans come out like symphonies. Heeseung starts to suck so hard on your tits, he's trying to make hickeys, marking you his instead of Jake.

Jake quickly catches onto what Heeseung's doing. You start making different sounds and he's not doing anything differently. Jake can't stand Heeseung's attempt. 'Baby, please let me fuck you,' Jake asks with that innocent expression. You nod your head, needing more than just his fingers.

He pulls back and like lightening positions himself back between your thighs, this time with his leaking cock facing your pussy. Heeseung pulls back quickly too. 'Open up, pretty,' Heeseung lightly taps your cheek. You look back down to Jake and nod. Jake doesn't wait another second to enter you ahead of Heeseung.

It's warm, tight, yet comforting. Jake has to do everything in his power to not cum immediately. He's jerked off to all sorts of scenario's where he's fucking you so many times, but in none of those sessions did he imagine your cunt to be so tight, so good, so addictive.

Right after Jake entered your pussy, you throw your head back and stick out your tongue erotically to invite Heeseung in. All he does is smirk before putting it in. Jake might be the first to feel you, but he's so focused on your insides that he doesn't notice your gorgeous face twisting and scrunching in pleasure. Heeseung gets front row seats to the most beautiful view he could've ever imagined whilst he's getting his dick wet by your lustful tongue.

Heeseung starts of slow. He wants to make sure you can handle two cocks attached to two horny bastards who barely have any self-discipline to not fuck you unruly until the sun comes up. Jake has already lost his control as sweat beads start forming on his forehead. You take it well, face contorted into ecstasy and moans sending soft, low vibrations that Heeseung's dick catches.

Bit by bit, Heeseung increases the tempo. 'Good girl, taking us so well,' Heeseung coos, stroking your cheek that's revealing a slight blush. You grab Heeseung just below the hips and pull him closer. You want more of him. You want all of him. You look up at him with pleading eyes.

'Someone's needy, huh?' Heeseung mocks you, head tilting and a pout slowly appearing. He loves everything that's happening right now. You're getting destroyed by his best friend's cock and you still want more. Your eyes, mouth, hands, everything is begging 𝘩𝘪𝘮 for more. And he gives it to you.

His hands land on your jaw. 'You ready, baby?' He asks in a soft voice while stroking his thumb over your cheek to comfort you. You nod lively. You don't care how hard Heeseung is with you, you need it. You need both of your holes abused by their cocks.

So Heeseung goes at it. His facial expression switched to a more serious, yet horny look. He slams his dick deep into your throat, setting the tone. You take all of him. His penis is so big, you feel him go so deep, you feel the prominent vein on his right side, you feel everything.

Seeing the paradise Heeseung is sends you almost over the edge, and Jake can feel it. You hear Jake curse under his breath as you clench down.

The two of them are fucking you from either end of you, Jake pounding your clenched pussy and Heeseung humping your mouth. The stimulation is almost overwhelming, and you let them know. Your eyes roll back, thighs are shaking and even though your mouth is busy, the muffled noises coming out are as lewd as you can get. Never has sex felt this good.

Jake is going at high speeds, because he has no patience for a slow buildup. His hands on your waist for balance and a steady rhytym. He, however, can't ignore the fact how small you look under him. His cock pulses a little at the thought and the whines start to spill out of his mouth as Jake is slowly starting to lose control. His motions become sloppy and your cunt grows more and more irresistable. He decides to try and disctract himself to make sure he lasts longer.

Wrong decision.

He looks up and sees Heeseung throat fucking you. And you taking 𝘢𝘭𝘭 of it. He can't see your eyes, but he imagines them teary-eyed. Heeseung is a little bigger than Jake, but Jake is confident he can make you feel good like that too.

Next his eyes focus on your boobs. They're bouncing uncontrollably. The sight going directly to Jake's dick. He grabs your tits a little rough, for if he looked at it just a little longer, he'd be sure he would be spurting so much cum, no birth-control could protect you.

The whole scene is so pornographic, Jake can barely keep it together any longer. He speeds up even more in the hopes to get you to climax first, he needs to see you climax first. And it works. The new-found momentum makes your back arch and loud whines escape from your lips. Your head feels light and heavy at the same time, your stomach like it's about to explode and all feeling in your legs disappeared.

Then, something snaps...

Waves of pleasure crashing all over you, your mind escaping into cloud nine, your lower body starts to shake violently, euphoric sensation overwhelms your core, your hands grip Jake's wrist mercilessly, and your mouth completely abandoning it's mission on Heeseung's dick.

Right after, Jake's orgasm came. He continued fucking your even tighter hole, groaning and moaning as he pushed all of his cum deep inside you. He wanted to make sure you could see his marking on you.

Heeseung was the only one yet to cum, but it wouldn't take long. The scene unfolding in front of him alone could almost make him cum. He grabbed your cheeks with one hand, making sure he doesn't lose the wet, spongy mouth he's been pounding into. You happily let him as you see a new animalistic side of Heeseung. He's so determined it's almost making you wet again.

'Mmph, yes, keep your mouth there,' Heeseung grumbles. You suction your mouth a little more and move your tongue along his cock, which is still hitting you in the back of your throat. 'Aah shit, you're gonna make me cum.'

Not even a minute later, Heeseung starts to moan more frequently and you feel his penis twitching. He pulls his dick from your mouth and starts pumping it violently. 'Cum on my face, Hee.'

That's everything Heeseung needed to hear as he releases ropes of cum onto your face, painting it. More moans fill up the room, but it's not just Heeseung. The warmth of his release, the look on his face and the afterglow makes you enjoy it so much, a moan or two slips out.

As all three of you just came, you look at each other. Nothing is said, but smiles are exchanged. 'Do you want us to help you clean up, dear?' Heeseung breaks the silence. 'That'd be nice.,' you say with a sweet smile. The boys gently clean you up as they bombard you with praises and finish the night with cuddles. All three of you already agreeing to do this again.

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝! <𝟑

[potatoplace]

A Place In This World

The Afterthought: Chapter 5 | series masterlist

ACOTAR x Archeron!Reader

chapter 4 | chapter 6 | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: Working at Sevenda's is a welcome escape from the River House, where you've become little more than a ghost after Starfall.

Warnings: toxic family, depression, self deprecating thoughts (none of them are too terrible this chapter)

Words: ~8.4k

Author's Note: I never seem to get as far in the plot as I want to in every update... This chapter isn't too crazy exciting, but there's some sweet moments and a little bit of angst with the sisters. I hope you all enjoy this update! Title is of course from Miss Swift 🫶

18+ only pls

🤍🤍💔🤍🤍

Your neck was stiff when you came to, the beginnings of the morning sun spilling across your face.

The ground outside was glistening with a fresh layer of snow, nearly untouched at this time in the morning. It seemed even the early risers had chosen to sleep in today, after the revelry of Starfall last night.

You, however, wouldn't stay asleep any longer. Not with the cold numbness slithering through your chest, curling itself around your heart, your lungs, your ribs. An absent hand came to rub at your chest, to bring some semblance of life into your hollow heart once more.

No such luck.

A glance at the clock that had recently been placed above your bedroom door told you that it was half past six.

That gave you two and a half hours to bathe, drink tea, possibly eat something, dress, and make your way to Sevenda's.

You did just that, sinking down into hot water, a sigh leaving your lips as your body soaked in the heat. You could almost pretend you felt alive.

After forcing yourself from the bath, you dressed in a simple, dark green dress. It was made of cozy wool, and the long sleeves were easily pushed up to make whatever work Sevenda would give you easier. It fit you loosely and reached to just above the tops of your feet, something you were grateful for after last night.

The feel of all those males' eyes on you... It was unsettling then, and unsettling to think about now. You could hardly imagine wanting to be looked at like that by someone you actually liked, let alone by strangers... How could Feyre stand it? How could anyone stand it? You supposed each person was different...

You shook your head, clearing those thoughts away. No need to contemplate how inexperienced you are in the romantic world, despite what Nesta claims.

Quietly, you crept downstairs, keeping an ear out for anyone who might be awake, teapot in hand. Thankfully, no one was in the kitchen yet, and you were able to prepare a pot of tea with no interruptions. Safely ensconced in your room again, you sipped at the lovely orange and cinnamon tea you had made.

As you stared out at the still-sleeping city, your mind drifted to last night. How Feyre had had no time for you, and Mor hadn't appeared while you had been in the House of Wind. Feyre had been crowded by the citizens of her city, that was understandable... Mor not showing up worried you though, but you were sure there was an explanation. And your other sisters and their mates, well, you hadn't believed they would interact with you anyways.

Azriel had been... Surprising. Caring. Sweet, almost. Him noticing that you had left wasn't something you had even considered, with how close he had been with the pretty redheaded friend of Nesta's. And... You had become accustomed to not having your absence noticed.

Your eyes closed for a moment, a wave of sadness washing over you.

You still felt so alone.

The minutes continued ticking past as you stared blankly out the window, sipping on your tea when you remembered to.

Soon enough, it was fifteen minutes until nine, and you peeled yourself out of the armchair. Boots first, then the short cloak, scarf, and mittens Azriel had given you for Solstice- also the ones that he had draped around you last night in the cold.

You wondered how he had gotten them...

You just barely remembered to grab the cup that Sevenda had lent to you before you snuck out of the River House, into the snowy city.

The walk to Sevenda's was peaceful, quiet. Most citizens of Velaris seemed to still be sleeping, and the blanket of snow on the ground muffled everything. The silence of the normally bustling city matched the feeling in your heart.

Empty. Cold. Quiet.

Sevenda's was warm already, the smell of spices lingering pleasantly in the air when you pushed your way in through the door.

"Ah, Y/N! Lovely to see that you decided to come in," Sevenda's warm voice greeted you from the left, a hand waved in greeting.

"It's nice to see you too, Sevenda. And thank you, again. I really appreciate the offer. I brought back your cup," you added, raising your hand to show it.

"Thank you, dear," Sevenda said, taking said cup from your hands. "Would you like to get started?"

You nodded your head, and let the fae lead you to the back of the restaurant, into the kitchens. It was large, with multiple shiny, silver stoves along the back wall, three matching cold boxes, a wall completely taken up by pots, pans, anything that you would need to cook. There was also counter space galore, with two other fae already working dough in the far corner.

"For today, I'm going to see how you do with prep work, mainly with fruits, vegetables, and meats. If you do well, I'll keep you on full time, if you'd like," Sevenda said, her words sparking a bit of hope in your chest.

Chopping, dicing, cutting. You could do that.

"That sounds perfect, Sevenda. Thank you for giving me this chance."

Sevenda smiled warmly at you, and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Of course, dear. Now... Are you feeling alright?" She asked more quietly, a concerned look in her eyes.

You nodded. Even though you weren't, you didn't want to rehash last night's events. "Yes, thank you." You even shot her a smile that you hoped was at least half-convincing, relieved when she returned the expression. "What should I start with?"

"First, you'll need an apron and to wash your hands," Sevenda said, leading you to the large sink, which conviently had a plethora of aprons hanging on hooks next to it.

You did as she asked, scrubbing your hands under hot water halfway up your forearm, dress sleeves already pushed up to your elbows. You tied a dark blue apron around your neck and waist, and faced Sevenda, who was pulling a cutting board from a cabinet. You noted the location, wanting to be as useful as possible as often as possible.

"I'll start you off by demonstrating how I like everything to be cut, and you'll do the same thing right after. I know it will be a lot to take in, but most of it is fairly simple. Let me know if you have any questions, alright?"

"Alright," you said resolutely, nodding your head.

The hours passed quickly, filled with you absorbing the information that Sevenda was feeding you through her demonstrations, taking in every angle that she used the knife at. You did decently, your cuts a bit clumsier than Sevenda's but still accurate enough. She was kinda, reassuring you that in time, you'd gain confidence and surety in your movements.

It was lovely.

Feeling needed. Feeling useful. You had entirely forgotten how that felt over the last two years, being the extra sister with no magic to help in a way that someone else couldn't.

By the time your shift was finished, Sevenda had pulled you aside to speak with you, anxiety building in your gut even as she smiled warmly at you.

"I'd like to hire you on immediately, full-time if you'd like," Sevenda offered, a twinkle in her eyes. "You've already got the basics down, and you're on track to catch up with my other prep cooks so long as you keep at it with the same enthusiasm you showed today. So... Would you like to have a job?"

A smile- a true, unburdened smile spread over your lips. "I'd love to, Sevenda. Thank you so, so much for this opportunity."

"Thank you for solving my dilemma of hiring a new prep cook, Y/N! Now, do you have an account with the Bank of Velaris already?"

You thought for a moment before answering. "I do... But it's the one that Rhys and Feyre set up for me. Would I be able to make a new account?"

You still felt like such a child, knowing so little about how the city you lived in worked. You had spent so long wishing and longing to leave that you'd hardly taken the time to learn about Velaris. Seeing how you were stuck here, likely permanently... The thought sent a pang of sickness to your stomach. But still, since you were stuck here, you might as well start learning about the city in which you will die.

"I'm sure that could be set up... Would you like any help with it?" Sevenda asked.

"That would be amazing, but you don't have to," you said, hoping that she didn't feel forced to help you, after your breakdown last night.

"Oh, nonsense, I'd love to help you Y/N. We can go in a few minutes, I just have a few more questions for you. Now... Would you like to work five or six days a week?"

That was an easy choice. "Six days would be best, I think." Less time in that house, waiting to be left out of events and dinner conversations.

"Alright, and if you ever want to go down to five days, just let me know and we can work something out. Do you have a specific day that you'd like off?" You shook your head. "Would Mondays be fine with you?"

"Mondays would be just fine," you replied. "Do you..." You paused, rolling the question over in your head. "Do you know of any apartments for rent? You don't have to answer, of course, I just thought I would ask," you said quickly, already regretting the question.

Sevenda merely smiled at you. "I do know of a few close by. Once you have a week or two of pay in your account, we could go look at a few sometime, if you'd like?"

You nodded quickly. "That would be amazing, Sevenda. Did you have any other questions for me?"

Sevenda closed her eyes for a moment before fixing them on you once more. "None that I can think of at the moment, but you'll be back tomorrow in case I forgot anything. Now, let's go get you a personal bank account," she said cheerily, rising from the table you had sat at. You followed her lead, letting her take you to the large, white marble building that had a large matching sign with, presumably, its name written in the large gold lettering on it.

Making an account was easy enough, and within the hour you had a small metal card, magically linked to your bank account in hand, your first day of pay already deposited by Sevenda.

You walked back to her restaurant with her, parting with a brief hug, initiated by Sevenda.

"I'll see you in the morning, Sevenda," you said, the words repeated back to you by the kind, chocolate eyed fae.

And then your legs carried you without thinking, back to the River House. The snow had melted just slightly, and was significantly more trampled than when you had arrived this morning. The sun was nearly set already, casting a pretty orangey-pink glow over the city.

Pretty.

The River House was warm when you entered, and thankfully there was no boisterous laughter coming from the living or dining rooms.

A part of you still longed for someone to ask where you were, what you had been doing all day.

But you knew better by now. And you were proven correct when no one came to greet you, even while you made a small dinner of rice with grilled vegetables. You even ate in the dining room, a rarity for you in the past months, the tiniest part of you hoping that Feyre might come in to talk with you. Or that Mor would show up, and you could spend part of the evening together.

Neither happened, and soon enough you were back in your room, a fresh pot of tea in hand, soothing, calming lavender and chamomile again.

You had enjoyed your day at work, but it had exhausted you. All you wanted at the moment was to fall asleep, but you chose to do something else before crawling into your makeshift bed in the tub tonight.

You would try to read. With your gift from the twins in hand, you pulled the cookbook that Nesta had gifted you, filled with lovely illustrations of soups and stews from all corners of Prythian.

Slowly, you let the magnifying glass read out the title a few times, your brain trying to make sense of the letters on the cover turning into the words you were hearing. It was embarrassing, how long it took you to be able to understand a sentence, even with it being read aloud to you. Heat rushed to your face, even with no one in the room to witness your shortcomings.

You tried reading a recipe, going one word at a time with the glass. That... Sort of worked, though it was slow going. And you felt like the only reason you were mildly successful was that the words were being read aloud to you.

How pathetic.

You sighed heavily before draining your last cup of tea and shutting the recipe book. That was enough of disappointing yourself for the night.

You stripped yourself of the dress you'd donned the morning, changing into a soft, long sleeved white cotton sleep dress that met the skin of your ankles, swishing softly against them with each step.

Sleep came easily to you that night, your body tired from doing so much work when it had grown accustomed to sleeping all day and rarely moving. It was a pleasant kind of tired, though, letting you drift into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning went much the same, with you rising before the sun to bathe and have a soothing pot of tea. Work flew by, with you completely focused on improving your knife skills for the seven hours you were there, determined to not let Sevenda down.

Before you knew it, you'd already worked three days in Sevenda's homey restaurant, settling in comfortably, even with the other fae you now worked with. Josi and Torma were the other two prep cooks, and both of them had been warm and welcoming to you. Sevenda's sous chef, Wren, had been a little less friendly, but you'd noticed that he was like that with everyone except Sevenda. He wasn't rude, or anything, just quieter.

It was on your fourth morning of work, a Saturday, that your routine was interrupted.

Azriel was in the kitchen, patiently watching a pot of oatmeal cook, shadows playing around his wings and over his shoulders, a couple of them breaking away to crawl up to his ears.

"Good morning," you said quietly, going to the cupboard that housed the kettle.

"Good morning, Y/N. You're up early," Azriel remarked in a neutral tone, neither judging nor questioning.

"Mm, thought I'd have a cup of tea before everyone else was buzzing around..." You said, feeling mildly guilty that you hadn't told him the full truth. You set to filling the water and setting it on the burner next to the one Azriel was using, then turned to grab your teapot. "Would you like a cup?" You asked before you could stop yourself and consider the possibility of being rejected, even for a simple cup of tea.

"I would very much, Y/N, thank you. Would you like some oatmeal? I'm afraid I've made too much..." Azriel said softly, a tiny frown on his face as he stared at the pot before him.

A small smile grew on your face at his reaction. "That would be nice, thank you." You pulled two of your teacups out of the cupboard. A few minutes later, the two of you were sat on stools at the kitchen island, a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of tea in front of each of you. The oatmeal was delicious, flavored with cinnamon and brown sugar, which paired well with the apple cinnamon tea you had brewed.

You ate in a comfortable silence, occasionally stifling a giggle when a shadow brushed over you, their cool touch tickling the back of your neck and your ankles. Curious little things...

Soon enough, though, it was time for you to depart from the River House, and return to the one place that you felt wanted in this city. Azriel had finished his breakfast as well, so you grabbed his dishes, ignoring his protests in favor of washing them.

"You don't have to do that, you know."

You rolled your eyes playfully, even though he couldn't see your expression. "I know that, I wanted to." Bowls, cups, silverware were all placed in the dish rack, clean and shiny from the water dripping off of them. Once that was finished, you returned to your room for a brief moment to grab your scarf and hat, and when you returned downstairs Azriel was lingering near the front door.

"Going somewhere?" Azriel asked neutrally, only a bit of curiosity in his tone.

You blinked at him once, twice. Strange, that it would be him who would know that you were employed first. "Yes, I'm going to work," you said plainly, hoping that his neutrality would continue. While you wanted your sisters to know... You wanted them to find out because they paid attention, not because Azriel had.

"Oh? Could I walk you there?" His question caught you off guard- if anything, you had anticipated him asking if Feyre or Rhys knew or had approved of the job. In your surprise, you nodded in agreement, and moments later the two of you were out the door, walking through the fresh layer of snow that had fallen overnight. You noticed a few of his shadows moving in front of you, pushing some of the snow from your path.

Cute.

"How long have you been working?" Azriel asked from your right, following the path you were taking.

"Just a few days, so far," you replied, trying to give the minimum information so you wouldn't bore him... Starting a new job was hardly an accomplishment for a fae of his age.

"Are you liking it?"

You nodded immediately. "I'm loving it already, working with food is probably the most natural choice I could have made." Too many words...

"That's wonderful, Y/N. It's nice to see you smile again," Azriel said softly, drawing your eyes to him. He was wearing a small smile on his lips, one that you realized matched your expression. A light flush spread over your cheeks- was your happiness always so obvious?

"It's nice to feel like smiling again..." You said quietly, more to the air around you than Azriel himself.

Sevenda's was in sight now, and you slowed your pace. While Azriel may just be being nice... He was still being nice to you. And having someone be kind to you was something you craved nearly every second of every day, so you wanted to savor it, even if it was selfish.

"Do..." Azriel paused, as if he was considering his words carefully. "Does Feyre know that you're working? She hasn't mentioned it."

"Uhm... No, I haven't told anyone yet," you admitted.

You saw Azriel nod his head in your peripheral, and you hoped it was one of understanding.

"Do you want them to know?"

You hesitated. "If you're asking if you can tell them... I'd rather you not."

Another nod as you approached the door to Sevenda's, stopping in front of it. "I won't tell them, then. Sevenda's, hmm?" You bobbed your head in confirmation. "That's good, she's a great boss from everything I've heard."

"She's amazing, if I can be honest," you said, gratitude in your voice. And she was. She had been so kind to you, and so helpful.

"I'm glad, Y/N," Azriel said, his voice the warmest that you had ever heard from him. "I'll let you get inside. Have a good shift."

"Thank you, Azriel. Have a good day," you said, waving goodbye to him before entering the warm restaurant, a smile on your face.

Your day passed quickly, filled with the delicious smell of spices and fresh cut vegetables, the sounds of sizzling meats and bubbling stews. This job at Sevenda's was truly a blessing, distracting both your mind and body as you listened to the friendly chatter between your coworkers and focused on what you were doing.

The River House sounded empty when you returned, completely devoid of sound. No running water, or voices in the living room. The entire night, you saw no one, not even Nuala or Cerridwen. You even spent a few minutes sipping tea in the living room - though you left quickly, feeling out of place even while alone - hoping to see Feyre for a moment. You hadn't seen her since Starfall, and... You wanted to see her. You also would have been able to ask her where Mor was, but alas, the question would have to wait.

The next evening, after your final day before having a day off, you saw Feyre for the first time in five days. She was glowing with happiness, both naturally and from the magic you knew she had gotten from... One of the High Lords - you still weren't sure which.

"Y/N! Come, sit with me for a little bit," Feyre said, dragging you onto the couch in the living room with her. You had just barely gotten your boots and scarf off before she met you in the entryway. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

"It has been a bit," you agreed, settling in beside her. You glanced around, noting that Nesta and Elain were seated next to each other on the love seat, angry stares trained on you.

At least they weren't glaring yet...?

"So, how have you been?" Feyre asked you, drawing your attention away from your other sisters and back to her.

"I've been fine, Fey. Just..." You debated telling her about your job. That would also mean Nesta and Elain knowing... But... You wanted Feyre to know. "I've been... I've been working."

Nesta scoffed from where she was seated, whispering something to Elain. You frowned. What problem could she possibly have with you having a job?

"Really?" Feyre asked skeptically. "You... Where are you working?"

Her tone, the sheer disbelief in her voice had you regretting ever opening your mouth. Being honest was obviously not a good choice for you anymore. "At Sevenda's restaurant..." You said quietly, met with a dainty snort from Elain. Heat rushed to your face, especially when Feyre frowned at you, as though she didn't believe you.

"Really? That's... That's really nice, Y/N. I'm happy for you," Feyre said with a strained smile. You didn't believe her for a second.

Still... "Thank you, Feyre. What about you? How have you been feeling?"

"Tired," Feyre moaned dramatically, a hand on her forehead. "The little one seems to be draining all of my energy, I've had to start eating double what I normally do just to feel like I can function."

"Maybe you can stop by Sevenda's when Y/N is working," Nesta suggested in a snarky tone, causing Elain to giggle into her hand. "If she even works there... What Sevenda would need with you, I have no idea."

Tears pricked at your eyes, though you fought them. Why were they so mean to you?

Feyre glared at Nesta, but said nothing in your defense.

She probably agreed with Nesta's words.

"I'm sorry that you're feeling so exhausted Feyre. Maybe there's something that could be taken off your plate for a little bit, until you're feeling better?" Another scoff from Nesta.

"I don't think there is, Y/N. It takes a lot to run a court..."

You knew that. Of course you knew that. "Oh... Well, I hope that you feel better soon, then. I'm... I'm going to go take a bath. I'll see you later?"

Feyre nodded. "I'll see you later. At dinner?"

There was no way in hell you would be showing at dinner tonight. "Maybe," you said, standing from your place next to her. You made your way out of the living room, ignoring Nesta and Elain's glares, up the stairs and into your room.

Happy. You had been happy when you returned home. You were proud of the fact that you had gotten a job. And yet the three people that should have cared, should have shared in your happiness and pride? They couldn't care less. They didn't even believe you.

That only served to solidify your choice to leave this cursed house as soon as you could, to continue in your plan to have your own living space. And, of course, it put tears on your cheeks, on the blanket that you curled into as you laid in the bathtub.

🤍🤍💖🤍🤍

In your first three weeks of work, you never saw Mor. You did, however, receive a letter from her on your first day off, read to you by the glass the twins had gifted you. She had apologized profusely for not showing up to Starfall, though she had a good reason. The citizens of the Hewn City had demanded to have a member of the High Lord's Inner Circle stay with them through the celebration, and as the only one already there, that duty had fallen to her. And in the week since, she had been constantly fighting with Keir over the upcoming election that was planned, hardly having a moment to herself.

Which was why the letter had taken so long to be written.

You felt horrible for having thought she had abandoned you, though you knew there was a reason you had jumped to such a conclusion.

Every week since then, Mor had managed to find the time to write you a letter, each one asking about how you had been, informing you of the lastest bullshit her father had put her through. You looked forward to each letter from her, but wished that you could see her in person, or at least write a letter in response. You missed your friend. According to her most recent letter, the one that had arrived two days ago, she would be returning to Velaris for a few days in the next week.

You were excited to see her again, but more than that, you were excited to move into your apartment today.

Sevenda had shown you to two different available apartments last week, and on Monday you had signed your lease. The building was only a couple of blocks away from Sevenda's, and it was a cute little place on the third floor, with a balcony that had a decent view of the mouth of the Sidra and the harbor. You already knew that you would be taking your tea on it once the weather had warmed, the view was too amazing to pass up an opportunity to look over.

The walls inside had already been done in a shade of light pink the day before, the cabinets of the kitchen coated in a pale lavender, a move in gift from your new landlord. It was a small space, that was true. Besides the bathroom and built in closet, the apartment was one large room, with no walls separating the living room from the kitchen, the kitchen from the bedroom.

But you didn't mind.

Because it was yours.

And truly, how much space did you need? There would be enough room to have a small dining table, a loveseat and a couple of armchairs in front of the fireplace - which you had been absolutely delighted to see - and a large bed. You could even put up screens or curtains to partition off your bedroom, if you felt like it.

The possibilities felt endless as you lugged your small amount of belongings over to your new place, bursting at the seams with happiness.

Today, Sevenda had given you the day off so that you could move in, though you had tried to insist that you wouldn't need the whole day. Still, she had made it clear that you deserved the day to settle in and purchase whatever you needed, even going as far to give you a week of advanced pay.

Moving your belongings took you less than an hour, even in the snow, and only three separate trips between the River House and your apartment. The presents you had recieved for your birthday and Solstice, the clothing that you couldn't part with, skincare items, and your hairpin all went with you, but everything else in your old room stayed.

You had decided against informing anyone of your move, choosing instead to quietly remove your things. If they truly cared about you, they would notice your absence soon.

If they didn't... You would deal with that if it came.

By midday, you were shopping in the Palace of Hoof and Leaf, on the hunt for cookware. You already had the wonderful measuring cups and spoons that Nuala and Cerridwen had gifted you, as well as your tea set from Azriel, but you would need a bit more than that to be able to cook at home.

That lead to you entering a lovely little shop, filled to the brim with pots, pans, and cooking utensils in every color of the rainbow.

For now, you only bought one frying pan and one pot with a lid, both in a shade of pink that matched your measuring cups. You also purchased a set of three mixing bowls in the same shade, made of a light but durable clay. A spatula, wooden spoon, whisk, and a set of silverware also came home with you, along with a few cleaning supplies that the store happened to carry, but anything else could wait for now.

You carried your bounty home, arms sagging under the weight of your purchases as you climbed the stairs to your apartment. Everything was put away in a matter of minutes, and you allowed yourself to relax on the floor for a bit, letting your arms flop out to the sides.

You could hardly believe it... A smile crept across your face as you lay on the floor of your own apartment, that you had earned the money for. You had done this for yourself, all on your own.

Once your arms felt less weak and tired, you sat up and looked around the room. It was... Fairly barren. Your pink bedding set and blanket from Mor were in the far right corner of the apartment, the box of your clothing placed next to it. Near the door to the bathroom you had placed your box of toiletries, and in the kitchen you had already stacked your cookbooks and teas on the counter and placed your dishes in the cupboards.

You needed some kind of furniture tonight, if you could manage to find something your weak arms could carry home.

And towels! How had your forgotten about towels? Oh- and food, you would need something at least for tonight.

You let out a breath. Maybe Sevenda was right, that you would need most of the day to get settled. You got up after another moment and put your boots back on, along with your hat and scarf.

A trip to the Palace of Thread and Jewels provided you with the towels you needed, in an assortment of pastel shades and sizes, as well as a fluffy purple bath mat. You even remembered to pick out two fluffy pillows as well, just in case you slept on the floor or in the tub tonight. As you were leaving the Palace, you couldn't help but pick out a soft, sky blue blanket one of the outdoor stalls, the green skinned fae bidding you farewell with a kind smile. You walked home, snow beginning to fall just before you entered the building.

You deposited your bags on the floor to the left of your front door, and set down the stairs immediately after locking up. Before the snow started to accumulate, you wanted to get a chair or something so that you would have a place to sleep for the night. If you couldn't find anything... Well, the bathtub looked to be the same size as the one in the River House.

When you had been out earlier, you thought you had spotted a second hand store, filled with mismatched furniture. You retraced your steps, and found it to be in the middle of the Palace of Thread and Jewels.

Inside, it was cluttered, with small paths leading through the building. It was near the back of the store that you found something you might like- a tall backed, wooden chair with a pink velvet cushion and backing, the legs of the chair curved and elegant.

Why would someone ever part ways with this?

You continued to the back of the store, finding a pale, short fae male sitting behind a counter, reading a book.

"Hi, I'd, uhm... I'd like to buy a chair that you have?" You asked shyly.

"Which one?" He asked, without looking up from his book.

"The uh. The wooden chair with pink velvet on it."

"Fifty gold marks," the male said shortly, a hand extending to take your bank card and press it to his ledger, all while continuing to read. He handed it back a moment later. "Have a good day, miss."

"Thank you," you said quietly before leaving the counter, going to collect the chair into your arms.

The walk home was slow going, the chair decidedly too big for you to comfortably carry for more than a few steps at a time. But still, you made it, dragging the piece of furniture up the stairs and through your door. You managed to lug it in front of the fireplace, settling into it for a moment.

You almost decided to skip getting ingredients for dinner... But your stomach rumbled in protest, at the thought of continuing to neglect your health in favor of avoiding discomfort. So instead, you pulled yourself from your new chair, then went back down the stairs and into the snowy city one last time today.

The Palace of Hoof and Leaf was a bit further than the Palace of Bone and Salt, but you knew where to find what you were planning to cook for dinner. It was easy enough to find rice, chicken, zucchini, broccoli, and a small set of spices, a large enough selection to satisfy you for at least your first month. Snow had begun to fall heavily while you had been in and out of shops, already covering the tracks that had been on the bridge when you had crossed it earlier, and when you finally made it up the stairs and through your front door, you were feeling tired.

Tired enough that for the moment, you placed the chicken in your cold box then walked over your chair, and plopped down.

You would consider today a success, even with how tired you now were. After all, you were tired in your chair, in your apartment.

🤍🤍💙🤍🤍

Two days after you moved, you had an unexpected knock on your door, just a few minutes after you returned home from work.

Perhaps it was finally Feyre, realizing that you had moved.

You were proven wrong when you opened the door, however, to see Azriel standing before you, a cloth bag filled to the brim with little jars.

"I- Hello," you said, surprised at him being here, even if he had taken to walking you to work on the mornings he was in town. "Can I- Can I help you?"

"I just returned from Illyria, only to find one of my shadows to be very frantic over the sudden emptiness of your room," Azriel said, though there was no accusation in his tone. "And after I spoke with Sevenda, she... She directed me here. I hope that's alright?"

You were even more surprised by the efforts he had gone to to find you, than his presence at this point. "That's fine, Azriel. Was there a reason you wanted to see me?"

"I... Yes," Azriel said, somewhat shyly, and you swore that you almost saw a flush covering his cheeks. "You never did tell me which teas you enjoyed, so I brought you a jar of each. I thought you might like to have a bit more, now that you're living on your own."

That was... Incredibly sweet of him to do. You were running low on your tea stash at the moment, and knowing that he'd thought of you...

Don't get any feelings, or hints of feelings, you reminded yourself. Humans and fae don't belong together, no matter how kind and attractive they are.

"Thank you, Azriel," you said, stepping aside to let him through the doorway. It was only polite, after all, to let him in. "I'll take those," you said as you grabbed the bag from his hand, moving into the kitchen to take arrange the little jars on your counter.

"You don't have a bed," Azriel observed from behind you, a hand on your chair, where your blankets were still piled.

"Oh, I'm uhm... I'm still working on that," you said sheepishly, abandoning your task of organizing the jars. Your eyes darted over everything, looking for anything else he could find issue with.

"Let's go solve that, then."

"I- What?" You asked, thoroughly confused. He was offering to go shopping with you...?

"We can go find you a bed today, Y/N. You need something to sleep on, and while a chair is fine for a little bit, it really would be best for you to have a bed," Azriel said simply. You were still staring at him in shock, so he sighed lightly and said, "Think of it as a housewarming gift, Y/N. You can pick out whatever you want, and my shadows will bring it here for you."

"I- But... Why?" You managed to get out, even as you mentally kicked yourself for being so awkward.

Azriel's mouth turned up in the corners at your reaction. "You need a bed, and I'd like to know that you're sleeping comfortably."

"But... Why?" You repeated, still confused.

Azriel sighed and shook his head. "You're my friend, Y/N, I like to know that my friends are well taken care of. And that starts with a good night's sleep, which starts with a bed," he explained as he walked over to your closet, pulling out the scarf and hat that he had gifted you. He wrapped the scarf around your neck and put the hat on your head, lips turning up more as you stood there and let him. "Now get your boots on, unless you really don't want to go."

Your eyes narrowed playfully at him, but you did as he said, slipping your boots on and lacing them up. "Alright... Thank you, Azriel."

His lips turned up into a full smile this time, a beautiful sight on his face. "You're welcome, Y/N. Now, let's get going before it gets too dark."

You let him lead you across the Sidra, to a shop in the Palace of Flame and Steel that specialized in wooden furniture.

"Pick out whichever one you like most," Azriel had told you, with a pointed look telling you that he would know if you tried to pick the least expensive option.

He watched as you went from bed to bed, mattress to mattress trying to find the right combination. You had been in the store for nearly an hour by the time you made your choice, settling on a walnut frame. It had a nice headboard, with little creatures carved into the posts on both sides, a feature that was continued at the corners of the end of the bed. Some of them looked like little cats, a pet that you had always wanted to have but never could afford in the human lands, and when you had been able to, your family had firmly shut the idea down.

For the mattress, you had laid on one that felt like a cloud, supporting your body in a way that you had never experienced. Perhaps... Perhaps Azriel was right, after all.

You felt dreadful, though, as he paid for your new furniture, even as he reassured you that it was a housewarming present and he was more than fine paying double the amount if he had needed to.

He walked you back to your apartment, and, as promised, your new bed was already set up along the back wall, looking extremely inviting even without bedding on it.

"You should let me repay you," you insisted to Azriel, a hand on his forearm stopping him from leaving. "I can't... This is too much," you said.

Azriel's eyes shined with understanding as he read the guilt in your own. "It's okay, you know. To be given things, without the need to reciprocate. But... If you still feel that you need to repay me, I suppose you could make me dinner some time," Azriel suggested.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Are you sure I can't pay you back?"

He shook his head. "The only payment I will accept is in the form of food, Y/N. Again, this is a housewarming present, it is a gift that I am giving to you of my own free will. I am, however, partial to your cooking, which is why I would accept that as payment."

You sighed, but nodded your head. You would pay him back with food, as often as he liked. "What days are you in the city?"

🤍🤍❣️🤍🤍

It took two more days before Mor was in town, which you found out about two hours into your shift when she burst into Sevenda's, speaking loudly enough that you could hear her in the kitchen.

A moment later Sevenda appeared, your blonde friend in tow.

"Y/N!" Mor exclaimed, pulling you into a hug once you had set down your knife. "Oh, girl, I have missed you so much!"

You squeezed her back tightly, overjoyed to see her again. "I've missed you too, Mor!"

Mor pulled away a moment later, her face serious. "Where are all of your things? I went up to your room in the River House to see you, and none of your stuff is there! Feyre had no idea either..."

A flush spread over your cheeks. "Oh, uhm... I moved out?" You said hesitantly.

Mor blinked at you a few times before a smile slid over her face. "You... Moved out?" She giggled. "And you didn't tell anyone? Was it this morning?"

You shook your head. "No, it was on Wednesday," you admitted softly, turning your gaze to the floor.

"And Feyre didn't... Oh, sweets," Mor cooed, pulling you into another hug and stroking your hair. You pushed her away after a moment, face bright red at being comforted in front of your coworkers.

"It's okay, Mor, really. I've already accepted that they don't notice me," you said, hoping that you had successfully hidden your pain. You may have accepted that your sisters pay you no attention, but it didn't mean your heart didn't hurt.

Mor frowned at you, but accepted your answer for the time being. "Well, when are you off work? I can stop by again, and you can show me your apartment!"

"I'm normally off right around five, you could come back then."

"Sounds like a plan, sweets!" Mor said brightly before leaving the kitchen, waving at you before being shooed out by Sevenda.

You quickly got back to work, determined to make the day pass by quickly.

And it did. The next five hours went by fast, filling you with a feeling of accomplishment as you finished everything Sevenda had asked you to do a few minutes faster than usual. Something as simple as that made your day so much brighter, easier to fight away the feeling of loneliness that followed you most hours of the day.

Mor met you outside as she'd said she would, a shining ray of sunlight even as the sun had begun to set.

"So- I leave town for a few weeks, not that I wanted to," Mor grumbled as you linked arms with her and began to lead her to your apartment. "And when I come back, you've already had a job for three weeks and you've moved into your own apartment? I am so proud of you Y/N."

You blushed at her words, but still allowed yourself to soak them in. "Thank you, Mor. I'm glad that you're okay with it."

Mor frowned. "Why wouldn't I be okay with it? I think it's amazing that you decided to move out, everyone deserves their independence."

You nodded, but your thoughts were on your sisters... What they surely thought of you, leaving without a word... "It's just... I don't know. My sisters... Weren't very supportive of me even having a job, let alone having my own apartment."

"Oh, hon, don't worry about them. I think they're just jealous of you having your own life outside of our little circle. Now, Nesta and Elain... They could certainly use a talking to," Mor hissed. "And Feyre isn't much better, letting them get away with their behavior."

You shook your head. What would they have to be jealous of? Being lonely? Having at most three friends, if you were being generous with the term? "It's fine, Mor, really. I've stopped expecting them to act any certain way, it's just... Easier."

Mor sighed next to you. "I suppose so... Anyways, tell me what's been going on!" Mor said cheerily, sensing your hesitancy to speak about your sisters.

"Well... Not much, beyond the moving out and getting a job. Although..." You thought about Azriel, how you now considered him a friend- and he thought the same of you. "Azriel has been very nice, he brought me some tea blends when he found out I moved. And helped me find a bed."

"Oh, I'm sure he did," Mor said suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows at you. You smacked her arm lightly and shot her as much of a glare as you could muster.

"Not like that Mor!" You exclaimed, blood rushing to your cheeks at her insinuation. "He helped me go to a store and his shadows brought it back to my apartment."

"Oooh," Mor laughed. "Okay, I misunderstood, Y/N. I'm glad that he's been a good friend to you while I've been away."

"I am too, Mor," you said softly, a hint of a smile on your lips.

You unlocked the front door of your building, letting Mor pass through the doorway before you, then led her up the stairs.

"Three flights? I must be spoiled, only having a flight to go up one at my place," Mor said by the time you reached the top, your fingers fumbling for the correct key.

"It's not all that bad, Mor," you giggled as you swung the door open, letting her go in first, and closing the door softly behind you.

"Oh, Y/N! This apartment is so you!" Mor said brightly as she looked around. "The bed looks amazing." She flopped down on it, sighing happily after she did. "You chose good, sweets."

"Thank you," you giggled, plopping down next to her. "I'm so glad the owner was willing to paint, it saved me from trying to do it myself."

"And it looks lovely too, and as I said, very you. So," Mor started, a hand flung onto your thigh. "I thought, if you have a day off while I'm in town, we could do a sleepover again! Either here or at my apartment, whichever you'd prefer."

"That sounds lovely Mor. If you're still here tomorrow, and you don't have plans tonight, I have tomorrow off," you offered.

"That's perfect! I'll go get a change of clothes and pick up some food on my way back, if that works for you, Y/N."

You nodded. "That sounds like a plan to me, Mor. I'll see you in a little bit?" The two of you stood from your bed, Mor's hair the tiniest bit rumpled from being squished against your mattress.

"Yep! Any preferences on food?"

You shook your head. "Anything is fine by me Mor, get whatever you've been missing while in the Hewn City."

Mor's face scrunched up at the mention of the Hewn City. "Don't remind me," she groaned. "I think I'll get some kind of pasta. Pasta sounds perfect for a sleepover."

"That sounds good to me. Walk safely, Mor, it's been slick out at this time recently," you warned, smiling when Mor winked at you playfully.

"I'm always careful, sweets. See you in a bit!"

You shut the door behind her, a smile on your face. You hadn't realized just how much you had missed your friend until you saw her again.

Not wanting to waste your alone time, though, you pulled yourself into the bath, determined to finish before Mor returned. While you didn't feel disgusting, you felt a bit dirty from work still, and if you're spending the night with Mor you'd like to smell decent.

Still, you let yourself relax in the steaming water for a few minutes, bubbles coating the water's surface. Your lungs expanded and collapsed rhythmically, lulling your heart into a state of peace.

Maybe... Maybe you could belong in Velaris.

Maybe it was your sisters that you didn't belong with, any more.

But with Mor? With Azriel? At work? You felt like you had begun to carve out a tiny little place for you to exist peacefully, if not happily.

A deep sigh left you.

You wished... You wished you could belong with your sisters once more. Your heart longed to see them, to share your joy with them. But... They never seemed to share in it with you.

So, you would settle for carving out a space for yourself.

No, it's not settling, you told yourself as you began to scrub at your body with a cloth. It's choosing to live, not to merely exist.

You may not know what you want out of life, but you're willing to find out now.

You willing to try your hand at living once more.

🤍🤍💝🤍🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao

The Afterthought Taglist: @darkbloodsly @angelbunny222 @uniquedreamsblog @romantasyreader28 @that-one-bibliophole @idkmyoldonewasembarassing @deathtopistachios @saltedcoffeescotch @sleepylunarwolf @babypeapoddd @kingshitonly @bravo-delta-eccho @bluebries81 @liahaslosthermind @deepestmentalitypersona @historygeekqueen @hermajestysworld @marina468 @esposamultifandom @astrokitty18 @larissa01-blog2 @acourtofbatboydreams @angel-graces-world-of-chaos @thelov3lybookworm @weekendlusting @dxjaaaa @thejediprincess56 @casiiopea2 @butterfix @sirenpearldust @marrass @satiresunflower @mae-foster @boo-shalala @optimisticbabydreamer @sttvrdustt @bunnybella186

[h-sleepingirl]

You Are A Wizard, So Pour Over The Tomes

Hypnosis is magic. It is not just “the closest we can get to magic.” Trance practices in all kinds of forms have served as the basis for mysticism across cultures and human history -- thousands of years. It is not new. It is not western. It did not start with Franz Mesmer or James Braid or Milton Erickson or Wiseguy.

Modern hypnosis stems from a rich human history of fascination and spiritual veneration of the mind’s power. We are practitioners of a comparably new discipline where we can literally change the way that other people experience the world. Their innermost selves are as leverage to us -- putty to us, when we know what we are doing. We can transform others freely. We can give pleasure or pain. We can facilitate experiences that seem to defy reality.

People talk a big game about respecting that power. What they usually mean by that is respecting EACH OTHER. That’s crucial, obviously -- not manipulating, not harming, being a good person.

But what about respecting the discipline itself?

It’s tempting to see what we do as disconnected from the “historical” and “outdated” methods of hypnosis. But we are a part of that history. We are likely hilariously wrong about a lot of things related to trance, hypnosis, the human mind -- what will hypnosis and psychology look like in 100 years? And even as we innovate, we are always building on the techniques and ideas that came before us -- in ways we are often not even aware of. We reinvent; we use ideas from the past unknowingly.

We have a right -- and a responsibility -- to OWN our magic. I am not here to gatekeep and say that this magic is not yours. It IS yours; it’s unequivocally yours. But as a whole we could do more to respect it.

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” And hypnosis is not even a technology that we UNDERSTAND. The only real reason we DON’T see ourselves as wizards is because there is a huge motivation to legitimize hypnosis as a scientific discipline -- and non-rationalist perspectives are looked down upon in our culture. I’m not anti-science (maybe a little -- tongue in cheek) but I do think that labeling hypnosis as “just psychology” is dishonest about how much we actually objectively know about it -- and does a disservice to the phenomenon itself.

I’m not saying hypnosis is literally metaphysical. But I am saying we practice something very powerful without knowing its nature. There are secrets we have tried to suss out about this magic through history that we have written down -- past and present. We actually have tomes of knowledge, records of past experiments and modern inventors.

In the last couple of years, I’ve started teaching/facilitating “text studies” -- classes where we sit down with an excerpt from a hypnosis book and parse through it as a collaborative group. I desperately want to show people that there is value in just critically reading the resources available to us. The clinical texts -- especially older ones -- are hard to read, like they are almost in a different language. But it is amazing the insights we have come to by tackling them together.

These old texts are not pure truths -- there is a lot we’ve improved on over time. But we can learn a lot by learning what hypnosis was like historically. The entire discipline of hypnosis is extremely susceptible to change -- it is defined SO MUCH by how we view it culturally. I just recently was amazed at re-reading some Erickson where he talks about making his subjects daydream autonomously -- as a primary mode and result of inducing hypnosis. Contrast that with today, where if someone’s mind wanders for even a moment, they feel like they’ve failed. There’s something really important here -- a technique from 50 years ago that tells us something we’ve lost in modern practice.

And there are countless examples of this, of people losing and reinventing methods over and over. As I’ve watched our kinky niche grow over just the past 13 years, I’ve watched ideas phase in, out, and in again -- there is both growth and regression of our collective body of knowledge. That’s the nature of things, especially when we operate partially disconnected from the resources that are available to us.

We CAN be connected to the rich human history of trying to unravel the secrets about our minds, and about this thing that gives us enormous transformative powers -- powers that we take for granted.

You are a wizard -- so pour over the tomes.

Read a book. Read an article. Set aside some time and view yourself with the respect of being someone who can study and suss out a magical text. Take notes, look up words and concepts you don’t know. Or just absorb what you can on a first pass and go back later. Read a chapter or just master a single page. Romanticize the aesthetic of sitting with the scent of paper, or as the technomancer with words appearing on a screen.

Read. Own this art. And bring that respect of this art to the people you share it with. I promise you can do things with hypnosis that you have never thought possible.

------------------

This is a little motivational piece (for you and me!) as I gear up to teach "Analyzing Erickson" at Charmed. It's something I feel really passionately about, and I wanted to share it.

Permanently linked/free on Patreon.