#i made it when i was in a really dark time of life

[luveline]

hi lovely, was wondering if you would be able to write any hotch x bombshell!reader ? maybe before they got together or any scenario/prompt you feel like!

take care of yourself and have a great day!!💝💝

The problem with Aaron Hotchner is that he’s too lovely for his own good. He might not think of himself that way. Not many, if any, of the office would agree. Morgan thinks Hotch is a hard-ass and Elle likes him in her way, but she rolls her eyes when he gets snippy, and Spencer… well, you think you and Spencer are probably on the same page. 

Hotch is kind, and a good man, and if he looks handsome when he’s frustrated that’s just how nature intended it to be. 

“Stop it.” 

“No.” 

“Stop.” Hotch levels you with a look over his computer. You’re surprised he knows how to use it, considering the semi-permanent callus on the pointer finger of his right hand. You must’ve watched him pen a thousand case files, consults and forms in a love letter to the old ways. 

He types slowly, but you’ve decided to keep your comment about it to yourself. “You’re looking at me like you know something I don’t,” he says. 

“Maybe I do.” 

“I’m sure you do. Stop bragging.” 

You lean on your elbow on the desk. He’s got a file open in front of him he’s transcribing for the sake of security. It details a case from a few months ago, and each line of the investigation is printed in Hotch’s neat script, lilting to the left over time. He frowns as he turns a page and realises it’s practically margin to margin with detail.

You want to offer to do it for him, but he’ll say no. You want to slide your foot up the leg of his slacks to see if he’ll blush as he did last Friday when you’d done the same thing, Gideon in the doorway none the wiser and somehow disapproving regardless. 

And Hotch, he’d laughed like a kid when the door closed, not turned on in the slightest but endeared by the guts it took you to try. Then he’d sort of enticed you around the desk somehow —you don’t remember the before of it, only slinking to his side with your heels tumbled on their sides under the desk still, his palms wide and open as you settled on a wooden corner. 

“I’m pretty good on the computer.” 

“I know,” Hotch says. “I authorised your computing and communications technology seminar myself.” 

“I was good at it before the mandatory company training garbage,” you say without heat, wondering how you might entice him over your side of the desk. Flirting aloud doesn’t work. Neither does footsie, and besides, what fun is that for you? But he’d looked at you in this strange way, none of his commanding sternness about him. A smile lingered on his lips; he can’t have known he was smiling at all, or it wouldn’t have shown. He’d left something honest there for you to see. 

Maybe it’s in your best interest to let down your own walls for a minute, too. 

“I could help,” you say. “Perhaps not from the same file, but I can get the laptop and start on the Maryland stuff. If you like.”

He looks at you steadily over the computer. His eyes seem lighter, the suspicious set to his mouth oddly close to smiling. “What do you want?” he teased quietly. 

“Nothing. Just figured it would make your life easier.”

“When have you ever made my life easier?” 

Your smile slips before you can stop it. Immediately, Hotch isn’t smiling either. The, “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that, honey,” almost doesn’t reach you, over that sharp second of hurt. 

“It’s fine.” You plaster on a smile again to save him the trouble. “I know you didn’t.” 

“No, really. I didn’t mean that.”

“Hotch,” you say, thumbing over his name slowly, “I know. We were teasing.” 

“Flirting,” he corrects. 

Your smile is real, then. “Flirting?” you ask. “That’s rather forward. Flirting might imply we like one another enough to, oh, I don’t know, help each other with our overflowing workloads?” 

He looks at you, all dark and him, steady, strong, all the stupid things that draw you in. You’re not just in it for his arms, however tightly corded they might seem when he’s pulling off his tie after a long day. “You do more than enough for me just sitting there,” he says, holding your gaze with a careful casualness that has your heart tripping in your chest. “Can you do that for me?” 

“Do what? Just sit here looking pretty?” 

His shoe touches your ankle. “Exactly,” he says quietly. “Just sit there exactly as you are. I promise I don’t need anything else from you.” 

Warmed from the inside out, you sit back in your chair. Grinning like a fool. “Why didn’t you just say that?” you ask. Any chance at sounding casual is lost when your voice comes out gossamer thin. 

He looks you over appraisingly. “See?” he says, turning back to his case file. “Thank you, honey. You’re a big help.” 

You swing one leg over the other to get comfortable, crossing your arms over your stomach smugly. “I know.” 

[astertimberwolf]

I feel insane (in a good way) because I somehow managed to do this to myself: resolving all of my trauma, with very little to no guidance. Blindfolded. In the dark. With pitfalls sporting spiky bottoms surrounding me on all sides and while balancing myself on a thin thread.

I did fall and survive being impaled several times, where I thought I was done for, for good- each time thinking "this is it, this is how it ends" ...and yet, finding a way to climb back onto the darn thread over and over again. It only cost me like...

(Hold on im gae, tired and counting with limited brain cells and energy)

...16-17 years of my life to get there? Yeah. That's how long ago it's been, since depression hit me hard... All the way up until now.

That's a long-ass time. Over a decade and a half...

...Was it worth it?

Remains to be seen. Depends on how the next couple of years play out.

I hope a healed mind, heart and body will finally give me the chance to thrive- something I've been robbed of for all of my youth... No thanks to my shitty parents and other blood relatives that enabled neglect and abuse. No thanks to all the people who sexually assaulted or groomed me, r*pist included- and definitely no thanks at all to the shitty human beings that bullied me, used me, made fun of me, verbally, emotionally and psychologically tore me down, never gave me the benefit of the doubt, called me the worst names in any book ever written- and betrayed my trust, taking advantage of my ignorance, benevolence and naïvety. Y'all can go f*ck yourselves. I have forgiven very few of you- and only partially when it comes to some of the things you've done to me. Some (people and things), I will never forgive... Karma will return the favor tenfold, don't you f*cking worry.

*takes a deep breath*

Despite the justified rage boiling up inside of me for all the shit that I've had to endure... I know I've done damage as well, some of which permanent. If anything, I want those people to know that 98.5% of the times where that happened, it really wasn't intentional, planned or whatnot. Life is just chaotic- and at times I've snapped where I couldn't take the pain anymore. But I've become a lot stronger, wiser, kinder, better- and I won't show my anger / rage / ugly side if I can help it.

I'm far from perfect. Doubt I'll ever even come close to scraping- or even so much as seeing perfection.

I'm battered, but sharper than ever. Like steel being turned into a sword, hit after hit. I hope the blacksmith of life is happy with their work. They've created a weapon that will cut through anything in its wake- and will hopefully be used to defend rather than offend.

May blood never coat my blade again.

You will patch up all the holes in 2025.

(this isn’t a post about knitting)

[kangnoeulsdoll]

Behind Closed Screens.

OF user!Se-mi x fem!reader

𐙚₊˚🪷⊹ ᰔ

synopsis: When you discover Se-mi’s secret OnlyFans account, your world shifts.

word count: 836

a/n: my next fic is definitely gonna be either Nana Osaki or Kang No-Eul :3

warning(s): suggestive

Your first clue was the late nights. Se-mi used to disappear into her office, shut the door for her job, and would not be heard from for hours. You'd imagined she was working on something important—a project at the office or one of her endlessly creative side interests she didn't actually share so often.

But now, as you "picked up" after her, you found out the truth.

Her laptop was on, the screen buzzing with a soft glow, displaying a website that made your heart skip a beat. OnlyFans.

It wasn’t just any profile—it was hers.

Sleek promotional photos of her in a bra and panties, soft videos with her voice topping the captions, and tens of thousands of likes and comments thanking her.

You felt your cheeks burn as you realized just how many people had watched her this way while leaving enormous amounts of tips and pleading for more.

"Enjoying the show?"

Her voice sent a jolt through you. You turned quickly, finding her leaning casually against the doorframe, her arms crossed, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. She wasn't ashamed—in fact, she seemed to have been looking forward to this moment.

"Se-mi," you stammered, stepping away from the desk. "I—this isn’t what it looks like."

Her giggle was soft mumble as she approached you. "It’s exactly what it looks like," she teased. "You found my page."

"Y-you’re on OnlyFans?" You held it together, absorbing all flood of data.

She pressed back into the desk, out arched her finger across the laptop computer monitor and shut it down. "It’s a little hobby of mine," she admitted. "Something to keep life interesting."

You blinked, your heart pounding. "And you didn’t think to tell me?"

"I was waiting to see if you’d figure it out," she said, her smile widening. "You’re clever. I knew it was only a matter of time."

You weren’t sure whether to feel shocked or impressed. "How long has this been going on?"

"A few months," she said. "It started as a curiosity—something fun. But people really seem to like me." Tilting her head, she fixed her eyes in the darkness of her gaze. "You’re not mad, are you?"

Mad? No. Flustered? Absolutely.

"I don’t know," you admitted. "I just… I didn’t expect this."

Her hand found yours, her touch warm and grounding. "It’s not a big deal," she said softly. "It’s just me having fun, expressing myself."

"Expressing yourself?" you echoed, glancing toward the closed laptop.

She giggled and her other hand continued to hold it firmly on the arm, and so on. "You’ve always said I’m good at being confident," she murmured. "Turns out, other people think so too."

You choked, and your heart raced as it hit the sweet spot. "And what exactly do you… do on there?"

Her smile widened and she edged in, her breath warm under your ear. "Why don’t I show you?"

Her cheeks flushed as she flinched, the stare glittering with dark whimsy. "Unless, of course, you’re too shy."

I'm not shy", you blurted, to which a cute laugh escaped from the girl.

"Good," she murmured. "Because I’ve been thinking about involving you."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Involving me?"

She nodded and, using fingertips, lightly stroke over your chin to lift the head upwards to meet hers. "You’ve always been my biggest supporter," she said. "Why not let everyone else see what I see?"

You couldn't help but be drawn to her, the strength of her voice, which began to run down your back. But, it was a beginner's trip, a somewhat exhilarating and a somewhat overwhelming journey.

"I don’t know if I’m ready for that," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"That’s okay," she said, her tone softening. "There’s no rush. But maybe… you’d like to see how I work?"

You blinked, your pulse quickening as she grabbed her laptop, flipped to the next page of her notebook and logged in. She managed the page without difficulty, retrieving her drafts.

"Here," she said, tilting the screen toward you.

The video was simple but captivating: Lying in bed in a silk robe. She wasn't making much progress—just fiddling with the hem of the robe, letting it fall off of one shoulder, her voice a bit of whisper every now and then, something you couldn't quite make out.

"People pay for this?" you asked, incredulous.

"Of course they do," she said with a grin. "It’s not just the visuals—it’s the attitude. The confidence. That’s what they’re here for."

"Still think it’s weird?" she asked, her voice low.

"No," you admitted, glancing at her. "I think it’s… incredible."

Her expression softened and she took your hand. "I’m glad you think so," she said. "Because I’ve got plenty of ideas—and you’d be perfect for them."

with Se-mi, life would never be boring.

[nmakii]

everything is blue!

— what colors do kunigami + bachira + kaiser + rin + nagi + otoya + nanase love in?

u guys can argue that they see love differently, but i j thought this was cute. tried another format for this btw lmk wyt

the deep maroon shade of the roses he buys for you; the scarlet stains you leave on his lips. rensuke kunigami sees love in red. yes, it’s pretty boring— maybe even expected from a good guy like him. but, it’s what he grew up associating love with, so why should anyone expect anything different from him? his scars and cuts all bleed red, the color of his love for you. it’s a fiery color that expresses all of his affections and desire to be your one and only in one simple shade. every piercing sun rise that overwhelms the gloomy dark sky with a burning red as he takes his morning jog reminds him of his passion for you. it also reminds him to work out, just so he’s strong enough to be your man— someone who’s strong enough to keep you safe from the world’s troubles, and be your hero. every valentine’s day, the corridors of his school are filled with red cut out hearts, and the only thing he can think about is you; the owner of his heart and body. to kunigami, red is love, and love is you.

the gentle flutter of a monarch butterfly landing on your nose after the two of you went butterfly catching; the orange juice that spills on to the plate after you had asked him to peel your orange. meguru bachira sees love in orange. he’s never had a friend he can trust will stay before. so when he falls for you, he falls hard and fast. no one else besides his mother has understood what he meant by his monster. so, it left him unbelievably jaw-dropped and star-struck when you told him of a similar monster that haunted you. his eyes shone a bright marigold to learn more about you and your monster; an imaginary friend that made life just as exciting for you as his has made soccer fun for him. all of a sudden, all he could think about was you, and how much he wanted to know everything about you. his mind— once filled with only hope for the next day to come, so that he could play more soccer, was suddenly overflowing with excitement for the next time he could talk to you again. just imagine— the lonely, weird kid finally meeting his match. but hey, misery loves company, right? who cares if the world is against him? fitting in would be too boring anyways. he’d rather have one person who understands him, than a world that supports him. they say that the color orange isn’t rare in nature. but, it isn’t common either. the same could be said for bachira. people who tolerate and accept him such as isagi, nagi, or aryu are a dime a dozen amongst geniuses such as himself. but, to find someone like you who can understand his eccentricity and what he means below the surface-level— you’re his one of a kind gem. one that’s his, and his alone.

the champagne blonde strands of hair that flow through your fingers; the gold rays of sun that shone on his skin after another win as he ran to the stands to kiss you. michael kaiser sees love in yellow. he really didn’t expect to fall in love with you. he kept trying to push you away by any means— undermining you, ignoring you, even physically pushing you away! but, your stubborn ass never got the point, and just thought that he’s always like that. that’s how he treats ness after all, so he just teases people he likes! your persistence eventually wore off his walls, and he finally allowed himself to be vulnerable. he finally let you into his life, and against his better judgment, told you about his mental scars. now, you were simply just too dangerous of a person to push away now, he’s told you far too much. well… he doesn’t see himself pushing you away anytime soon though. he’s found himself to be much more fond of your presence. when he’s with you, everything feels okay. he doesn’t question if he’s worthy of all this happiness— you make him forget all of it. after the cold winter of his childhood, spring has finally came. it’s why he buys you daffodils, instead of the roses he loves so much. while roses, blue ones, represent the impossible becoming reality, daffodils represent a new beginning— one where he hopefully doesn’t need to cling relentlessly to the past to evolve, and instead evolves to become a man you can proudly say you’re dating.

the sound of your footsteps on a football field after he practiced into the night for the nth time; the cute cactus plushie he won for you after you told him how cute it was. rin itoshi sees love in green. he knows that after his big brother abandoned him, he hasn’t been the kindest of people. which is why he was so confused as to why you still stayed. you were amazing— you could certainly have any other guy. but, you still wanted him! why is that? why do you want sae itoshi’s stupid little brother? after another night of questioning himself, he’s found his answer when you talk him through his emotions, and help him sort out his problems. it was because you actually cared for him. you knew rin isn’t as indifferent as he pretend to be. there was more to him than that. but, he’s wrapped that part of himself in chains and spikes, making sure he doesn’t get hurt again. he wasn’t sure if he could ever love the same way again. but, just as a plant needs tender care to grow, he needs you to be patient with him to let him heal and carefully take down the walls he built ever so meticulously.

the denim jeans you wear when he takes a nap on your lap; the stone color of the usually bright sky when it rains, which makes you have to stay the night in his apartment again. seishiro nagi sees love in blue. just like how he can rely on the sun to rise again the next day, nagi knows that he can always rely on you to be honest with him. his trust with you runs deeper than skin and bones. he knows he isn’t the most ideal boyfriend, he’s always afraid that you might leave him for someone who’s more outgoing with him one day. but, he always manages to remind himself that you’d tell him if he was lackluster in a certain way. but just because you’re saying he’s doing nothing wrong, it doesn’t mean he’s gonna remain the same lazy genius. for you, he’ll always try to improve and evolve to be someone whom you can rely on as well. like the bright blue sky that wakes everyone up in the morning every day without fail, nagi will never forget the moment you jumped into his life and promised that you’d stay until the end of times.

the bright mauve lights in the karaoke room whilst the two of you sang ‘i wanna dance with somebody’ by whitney houston; the vibrant violet takis bag carelessly dropped on the floor after the two of you fell asleep marathoning the harry potter series during the weekend. eita otoya sees love in purple. even though he was quite the lover-boy, he found relationships quite exhausting. having to date a high maintenance girl that needed to constantly go on dates and be given gifts was something that killed his vibe; very unenjoyable. so, he enjoyed it when he finally found you; someone who didn’t need the high life to have a good time. whether it’s the both of you speeding his car at 1 AM with some of your friends after blowing through 3 weeks worth of allowance money in one night, or staying over at your place and just doing whatever little arts and crafts sounded fun that day, you always had fun as long as the both of you were together. sure, at first, he just wanted to have some fun until the next one came along… but, he finally found himself to be enamored with someone. it isn’t so bad if he just doesn’t tell you that, right? all’s well that ends well..? either way, he finally feels fulfilled in a relationship, and like he might actually stay for a while this time. it’s fun, fresh, but still deep with an unspoken connection— just like the royal eloquence, yet playfulness, of purple.

the rosy blush of his cheeks when he saw you for the first time; the cherry blossom kitkats he shaped into a heart for your first valentine’s as a couple. nijiro nanase sees love in pink. being from the countryside of japan, he’s a stereotypical country boy. he was raised well by his grandparents, he’s been taught well in the likes of chivalry, and he’s unbelievably naive. oh, to be looked at the same way as the way nanase’s eyes gleam— star struck, at the sight of you. now, he doesn’t know what to do! his hearts’s all… what’s the word…? thumpy thumpy..! he can’t help, but get jittery whenever you’re around. this is what love feels like? it feels good! he wants to feel this fluttery feeling all the time. and to have that, he has to be your boyfriend. nothing can compare to the feeling of first love— slowly falling deeper and deeper into a pit that swallows him from the inside out. he feel like he’s drowning, but at the same time, it’s so gratifying, he can’t help but get addicted to the sound of syllables falling from your heaven-sent lips. he can tell you’re new at this too. you’re nervous— maybe even more nervous than him. but, hey! that’s alright. the two of you will go by this whole relationship thingy step by step. like how a pink rose is so delicate that it falls apart when crushed by the fist, he’ll make sure to be careful with your heart. as long as you promise to be careful with his.

[notthegrouch]

The reasoning of "just a tool" shows an incredible understatement of understanding of how much the generative AI is impacting the professional fields, and as a consequence of that, the aspirations of amateurs.

A famous saying in the artistic and literary world is "Ideas are cheap". it's the actual work that goes into the execution that makes art art, and that doesn't have to mean that it all needs to be photorealistic, but that does mean that the process of the art creation is often what is talked about when you see it in museums or at competitions.

Jackson Pollock splattered paint on a canvas, Marcel Duchamp declared a urinoir to be a fountain and it was art; the idea was cheap. The boldness of actually going all in on the simplicity of that process and taking it seriously, openly and honestly showing that their process WAS in fact just splattering paint or picking up ready made objects, that was all very new.

in the same way, you can't really pull that off nowadays anymore, because you'll just be someone who imitates Pollock or Duchamps.

Some artists, however use large machines and robotics. This looks very cool! The Robotic art piece Can't Help Myself has been seen on tumblr, the sad robotic arm that does a little dance as dark red liquid oozes out, until it seemingly panics and quickly starts wiping the liquid back into itself. The machinery is used here as "just a tool" too.

But the incredibly widespread application of AI art combines all the worst factors of all of this; AI makes it very easy to execute any cheap idea and get an artwork that looks decent at first glance, but there's nothing really bold or honest about pretending to have made an oil painting while you know nothing about oil, paint, or color theory. There is barely any process to speak of, other than the prompt/programming that was offered to the AI and the amount of iterations the computer went through until you reach the desired result. but since most of the process happens through machine learning, we can't really peer into that in the same way that we can peer into humans without humanizing the machine. At the same time, because a lot of AI function via the internet (though of course not all of them do), there's also a little bit of obscuring that goes on when it comes to the process. in art, when I think of "just a tool", I think of a brush, a pencil, a pen. in some cases a personal computer, or a drawing tablet. house hold items, that, although some can be expensive, or big, are ultimately clearly tools.

What I DON'T think of when someone mentions tools are factory machines that could replace 90% of a work force. When a car factory is managed by 100 mechanics, and 90 of them get replaced by robotic arms, it's not the correct terminology to say "don't worry, that arm is just a tool". And if hundreds or thousands of amateur crafters suddenly start building shoddy cars in their back yard because they could afford to have such a mechanical arm installed, would you still feel safe on the road? The amount of mechanical arms suddenly being on the market drives up the prices of computers. Generative AI is that mechanical arm. The internet is being overrun with quickly made, shoddy art, often presented as realistic depictions of either hand made art, or even real life photography. AI art that, within it's own picture, boldly shows to be AI art is very rare and unsurprisingly THAT is the AI art that can also be seen in museums sometimes. At the same time the popularity of the AI art causes a host of environmental concerns and unforeseen political problems. Art, messaging and propaganda is made at a scale never seen before, and it's doing damage.

So when people say AI is just a tool, no it's not. It's a factory machine capable of replacing an artistic team, being put into the hands of the common people, and treated as if it's merely a pencil. And it is spreading very very cheap ideas very very quickly.

i literally dont care what your excuse for using AI is. if you didnt put your own effort into making it im not putting my own effort into interacting with it.

[leia-writes]

hi! i had a dream about this recently and was wondering if it would be anything you'd be interested in writing :)

it starts off with the reader and in-ho going through a really rough break up but they still have feelings for each other. right before the s2 games started, in-ho went to a bar and saw reader there and her job is to perform live music, so she sings about in-ho and their breakup, not realizing that he was actually there

Maybe You'll Be There

hwang in-ho | front man x reader

ao3 link

masterlist

song inspiration: maybe you'll be there by etta jones

note: thank you so much for your request!!

warnings: angst

“Get out.”

You glared through teary eyes at In-ho, who was standing in the middle of your apartment with a bouquet of flowers. He sighed and dropped his arms in frustration, a few petals and leaves falling to the floor.

“I said I was sorry. I really am.”

“How many times have I heard that? You’re a broken record at this point.” You turned away from him and began cleaning up your kitchen. It took everything in your power not to break down crying right then, but you were just so tired of doing this with him. 

“I know. I messed up again. I’m sorry. Please.”

You sighed, dropping a glass into the sink. It clattered noisily as you turned towards In-ho. “Please what? Please forgive you for the thousandth time? Please forget how you ignore me whenever something important happens for me? Please let you play with my emotions?”

He stood there silently, trying to mask the shame spreading across his face.

“Which one, In-ho?”

He clenched his jaw, looking away from you. He still wouldn’t say anything. With every passing second he was silent you could feel your heart breaking even more.

You scoffed. “That’s what I thought. Get out.”

He gave you one last look, tears starting to form in his eyes. You’d never seen him cry, never even close to it. You wanted so badly to run to him, but you had to be strong this time.

You watched him as he set your flowers down on the table and walked to your door. He looked at you once again. For a brief moment you hoped he would say something, anything to make it right again.

Instead, he left, closing the door behind him.

~~~

You cried in bed that entire night. It was supposed to be a good day - you had just performed a full-blown concert all by yourself for the first time ever. Even though you worked for a very dark and secretive organization, you always made it a priority to pursue your passion for music. As time went on, you started gaining a reputation for being an outstanding jazz singer, and you found yourself wanting to move on from your high-stress job and live a more normal life.

After winning the squid games you participated in a couple years earlier, you soon found yourself working for the same organization alongside In-ho. Despite his cold exterior, you got along well. You had been dating almost a year before you started running into problems.

In-ho worked as the Front Man for a while before you joined him. You had only been working with him for a couple years, and you didn’t really have the same connection to that place like In-ho had. You both went through something extremely traumatic by playing and winning the games, but it seemed to bond In-ho to that place when you couldn’t care less. In-ho seemed constantly tormented by his decisions, as if he didn’t want to be there but couldn’t help himself.

As you started becoming more popular, you didn’t feel the need to work for them anymore. You wanted to leave many times, but In-ho always convinced you to stay. He promised over and over that you two could make it work, splitting time between the island and your apartment. And he promised he’d be at every one of your performances.

A promise he was never able to keep.

There were so many nights like that night, where In-ho would show up late in the evening, well after your performance, begging for forgiveness and promising to be better. You’d cry in front of him, break his heart a little, fall for his sweet words, and then make up as if nothing happened. Then you’d have another upcoming performance that always happened to conflict with work, and fight endlessly about how you navigate your relationship. Repeating the same vicious cycle over and over.

You couldn’t stand to keep breaking your heart like this. The love you felt for him was undeniable, something you felt you’d never get over, but the pain was just too much. Tonight was your final straw.

The next day, you finally quit your job and started your new life.

~~~

In-ho waited outside the lounge, the cold, night air whipping across his face. His hands were awkwardly stuck in his pockets as he scanned the people around him, looking for her. He was reluctantly waiting to meet someone on a blind date, set up for him by an acquaintance.

He didn’t want to be there at all, but figured he needed to start putting himself out there. Or at least that’s what everyone else was trying to convince him to do. After looking around for another brief moment, he spotted her approaching him.

She was beautiful. But she wasn’t you.

Ever since your painful breakup, he was tormented by thoughts of you. He couldn’t help but remember you in the little things around him, even now a year later. It was a constant reminder of his failings, how he ruined one of the only things that was good for him and made him truly happy.

He knew he was pushing you away the more you wanted to quit. He knew he was hurting you every time he missed a performance, ignored a call, prioritized anything else over you. He knew you’d be better off without him and his baggage.

In fact, it seemed true. Ever since you had finally broken up, he saw you rise to a whole new level of fame. You were constantly putting on performances and releasing new music. He tried his best to ignore any news he heard about you, but in moments of weakness couldn’t help but look you up and try to get a glimpse into your new life.

She approached him with a smile and they entered the lounge together, sitting at a small, intimate table for two. The atmosphere couldn’t have been any more romantic - warm, low lights, candles and a rose on the table, drinks and conversation flowing with ease around them. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt, as if he was doing something wrong.

A waiter approached the table and took their drink order. Upon returning, he excitedly pointed to the currently empty stage.

“Are you here to see the show?”

They looked blankly at the waiter, and she asked who was performing. In-ho felt his blood run cold when he heard the waiter say your name.

You.

You were performing at the lounge tonight. 

He gave a polite smile as he internally screamed. “Oh, we’re just staying for a drink, so we’ll probably miss it, won't we?” He glanced at his date.

She scoffed. “What? Of course not, we can’t miss this! I didn’t even know she was playing tonight.”

The waiter smiled. “It’s a special one-night performance, just for us. This is where she had one of her first solo performances!”

The waiter and In-ho’s date chatted briefly as In-ho tuned out all the noise around him. The one night he tried to get you off his mind, he found his way into the one place in the entire city you’d be. He felt his heart rate quicken and his head start to spin.

Suddenly he was pulled from his thoughts. “Are you a fan too? You seem the type,” his date asked.

He snapped out of it. “Oh, uh,” he cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “Yes, I am.”

She smiled. “Great! We can’t wait.”

The waiter smiled and left. In-ho and his date casually sipped their drinks while making small talk. His eyes would dart wildly near the stage, anticipating when you’d appear on stage, wondering if you’d be visible nearby. 

“Are you alright?”

In-ho brought his attention back to his date, who had a concerned look on her face. He smiled. “Oh. Yeah, sorry. Uh… just a bit nervous, I guess.”

She smiled and sighed, relieved. “Oh god, me too. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

He laughed softly, but couldn’t ignore the uncomfortable feeling he had inside. He looked around, noticing how busy the place was getting as your performance was about to start. 

“Want another drink before the show starts?” he asked. The waiters were incredibly busy, and he needed an excuse to step away.

“Sure. Just the same. Thanks.”

He quickly got up and walked to the bar. It was filled with people getting their last minute orders in, but he took his time getting the attention of the bartender. Anything to delay having to go back to the table and put on a facade. How was he supposed to act once you began performing?

As he was waiting for the drinks, you arrived on stage. The entire place erupted with applause. In-ho wanted it all to not be real, just a dream he could wake up from at any moment. He wanted to look away from you, to keep his focus on the drinks he was supposed to be getting, but he couldn’t stop himself from turning to you.

It was as if all the air in his chest escaped at once. You were standing at the microphone looking like an angel. The lights had dimmed in the room, with a single spotlight illuminating your face. You scanned the room with a soft smile on your face.

“Wow. Thank you all for coming. I’ve never seen this place so packed!”

A quiet laughter sounded from the audience as you continued. “As some of you may know, this is the spot where I had my very first solo performance ever, almost a year ago now. I have so many memories in this place. Some good, some bad, but… that’s life, isn’t it?” 

You paused to take a deep breath. “Tonight I’ll be singing some of your favorites, some I even performed here that first night. And I even have a new special song I’ll be performing at the end for you. I hope you enjoy.” You smiled as the band started, the crowd applauding again.

In-ho stood still, frozen at the bar as you began singing. He immediately recognized your first song, remembering so vividly even now how you practiced it and played it for him over and over. He didn’t even notice when the bartender gave him his drinks.

Instead, he stayed there almost your entire concert, completely mesmerized by you. With the songs he recognized, it was like watching his memories in a movie in front of him, as if he was experiencing those feelings again just like before. And with your new songs, it was like getting to know someone he’d never met. He saw the parts of your life he had completely missed. It created a deep sense of loneliness and longing in his heart.

Before your last song, he finally became aware of himself and brought the drinks to his table. His date looked surprised.

“Oh. I thought you ditched me.” She scowled.

In-ho gave her an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. The drinks…”

“The drinks didn’t take that long.”

In-ho sighed. “I know. I’m sorry, I got distracted.”

She sighed, taking a long sip of her drink. “You know, it’s fine. I was warned you might be like this, anyways.”

He was taken aback for a second. “What?”

“Your friends, they all told me they basically forced you into this.”

He scoffed. He wanted to defend himself for a moment… but they were right. He stayed silent.

“I just thought you’d have better manners than this,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He wasn’t sure what to say. Before he could think of something, you spoke before your last song.

“I want to thank you all for being here tonight. It means the world to have your support. Thanks to you, I’ve been able to make my dreams a reality. I’d like to thank you by playing a brand new song, just for you all. I wrote this recently, but it’s about what some of my life has been like this past year. 

“Like I said before, some good memories, and some bad. I wrote this to reflect on some of those bad memories, and hopefully let go of the pain with them. I’m sure some of you can relate, right?”

Many in the crowd nodded. “This one is called Maybe You’ll Be There. Thank you.”

As you began your song, In-ho’s blood slowly ran cold. He knew after the first verse you were talking about him. He studied your face as you sang, watching how your eyes would subtly flutter at particularly emotional moments. It was something most people wouldn’t pick up on, but he knew you. He still knew you so well.

Your voice filled the space with ease as you reached more intense moments, gracing the ears of the audience with your rich tone. Once you reached the last verse, a tear fell down your cheek in perfect timing. In-ho’s heart strained in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to run to you on that stage and wipe the tear from your face, and do anything to make you happy again, anything to make the two of you whole again, anything to heal the wound that festered over the last year.

He almost cried listening to the final words of your song, hearing how you wished he would come back. After everything you had gone through together, and all the time you spent apart, you still missed him. His heart broke - he didn’t deserve you, and you deserved so much better than him. And you said it yourself, that you hoped you could finally move on after releasing this song.

Although it pained him greatly, and forced him to defy the longing he felt in every fiber of his being, he knew you’d be better off without him. And so, after your performance ended, he politely excused himself from the date and went home. 

~~~

You entered your apartment later that night, pleasantly exhausted. It was late, but you were still buzzing with emotion. You hadn’t expected to become so emotional while performing your new song. It had been a long time since you cried on stage, but singing that song brought back so many painful memories that you couldn’t help yourself. Despite that, you were proud of having such a vulnerable moment become something beautiful.

You collapsed on your couch with a glass of wine, too tired to get changed just yet. The silence enveloped you. You remembered a year ago, the last time you saw In-ho in your apartment. The somber look he gave you as he left. The ensuing rush of tears and pain that you couldn’t keep in that night. 

And the painful ache of longing you’ve had ever since then.

You sighed deeply, finishing your glass of wine and willing yourself to stand up. Life goes on, you told yourself. You were well-acquainted with the act of ignoring your feelings and pressing forward. No matter how much you wanted In-ho to appear in front of you, it wasn’t going to happen. He never once tried to get you back in the entire past year. Maybe now you could finally let go.

As you walked to your bedroom, you heard a light knocking at your door. 

You stopped. Were you hearing things? The following silence was filled with tension.

You were about to dismiss the noise and continue walking when you heard it again, this time louder. Your heart was beating through your chest. 

Slowly, you walked to the door. Your heart leapt, as if you knew who was behind the door. You weren’t sure whether to cry, or get excited, or get angry. A flurry of emotions filled your mind as you grasped the door handle, turned it, and pulled the door open.

You froze at the man standing in front of you. His grief stricken face. Flowers in his hands. The way he breathed a sigh of relief. 

The way your heart breathed a sigh of relief.

In-ho.

[mocchii-writes]

hii!! i love your work! i would like to request head-canons with a reader who is an ex cop (could be from the same reason as jun ho, as they failed to investigate the mysterious island) but this time, they’re actually able to infiltrate into the games. you can do separate characters for gi hun, in ho, dae ho, thanos, and nam gyu?!

Squid Game Boys if You Were Undercover in the Games

Paring: Seong Gi-hun, Hwang In-ho, Kang Dae-ho, Choi Su-bong (Thanos), Nam-gyu x fem!Reader (Separate)

Warnings: Drugs

A/n: I hope I understood this correctly, Anon, it's a very cool one! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

~🍡🍡

Hwang In-ho:

This would be very interesting indeed

Since he's also an undercover spy-esc. type, he might not even notice if you act suspicious in that type because he's covering up himself

but he also seems smart enough to figure it out

he would admire your bravery, if so, and originally planned to shut you down once he thought you'd had enough fun

but there was something about the way you looked at him sometimes that made him pause

it took him a while to realise he actually liked you, and the thought didn't exactly comfort him

you guys would play a game of tag in the dark, jumping around the fact that you're on opposing sides of a growing war

and you'd both pretend you knew nothing so you could be friendly guilt-free

he wouldn't hesitate at the chance to save your life, unlike he would for many other "friends"

he's very protective and defensive of you anytime anyplace

if anyone even thought of hurting you, pray for them fr

he's almost ashamed to admit to himself that he cares about you, but the thought hardly crosses his mind when met with false hatred for you instead.

(or what he calls hatred)

Seong Gi-hun (s2):

You knew he could use all the help he could get, and he seemed almost too kind to be in this place

and you knew you could use all the help you could get as well

so you didn't have to think long on it to decide to tell him what you knew

he trusts you, for sure

he's also protective of you, trying his best to ensure your safety even though that's a hard ask

and you protect him too, to the best of your abilities

you both have a common goal, too, and that helps with the bonding

speaking of

you two would bond pretty well imo, sharing your stories and fears with each other at night

he's not very confident in terms of romance, and he'd probably miss most of your hints because he's so used to people never glancing his way

but eventually he would understand

if not your feelings, then his own

and he would probably confess to you by like either exploding a bunch of words out of his mouth that are hardly understandable, or very quietly and clearly, like he's sharing a secret with you

Kang Dae-ho:

If you told him he would be so impressed, let's be honest here

literally star-struck, because an undercover ex-cop is the sickest thing ever??

and not to mention he definitely already admires you

he wants to know everything about your investigation and your backstory

he feels very safe with you, but still holds himself to the standard of defending you if he needs to

you'll probably have to make the first move unless you can boost his ego a little more because like I said, he thinks you're way too cool for him

you would do your best to help him, and he does the same for you

which really makes you two a crazy power couple because when you guys really link up you're unstoppable

I just know yall would devour in the riot omg

he loves loves loves you, and he loves talking to you about all the police stuff you do and his time in the military

Choi Su-bong (Thanos):

It's an understatement to say you were wary of him, and even more wary of telling him your reasons for being here

but it's not like he would notice anything weird, so you'll be alright

you were trying to keep a low profile, but Thanos didn't intend to just let a pretty girl like you get away

He tried his usual charms, and whether or not they worked is... irrelevant... 🤭

anyways

you joined his group because you thought it gave you safety, but that didn't stop Thanos from trying to win you over

after your suspicions died down, he seemed pretty genuine

so you told him your story, and he listened

he told you he'd try to help you, but neither of you know if he could really help that much

but he definitely respected you more after that

and nobody dares to mess with Thanos's girl, but if they did, you know he'd handle it

he thinks of you as a close friend as well, and he trusts you more after you tell him you're undercover

he would want to tell Nam-gyu, but he wouldn't if you didn't want him to

he would think it's hot lmao

he'd be like, "So you're a super secret spy? cool, cool. Where's your earpiece?"

"bro"

"Hm?"

it overall wouldn't really affect how he treats you, but your relationship would sift, probably for the better

Nam-gyu:

Depending on how you met, he would be really gentle with you imo

he's really nice with thanos (though he claims it's for the drugs)

so I think if he liked you he would really like you

we know he's very touchy and probably protective of you

but when you tell him your real story, he's flabbergasted

I mean sure, it makes sense, but what??

his perfect wife? (he's known you 4 days)

he's very proud of it

will probably yap to everyone about it, sadly

you'll really have to hold him back, if you can

he'd say he wants to hear about it but hed probably lose interest lmao

but he'll ask you late at night, and you two will talk for a while about your lives

he'd say he's ashamed of his life currently, and that you have so much more potential

you'd have to comfort him and tell him it's okay

also, please comfort him when he takes drugs from thanos because they make him pretty anxious sometimes

and he just wants to be with you, so hold him ♡

protects you but also knows you can handle yourself, just give him this

Sorry, I'm posting really slow but all the req will be out once I get on that grind ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

~🍡🍡

[logoleptic-since-06]

It's Two-Faced, It's Too Late

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader Content: Fem!Reader, College AU, Athlete!Toji Fushiguro, Hacker!Reader, Stalking, Crack, Profanity, Suggestive, Not Proofread

MDNI

<- Prev Part 2 Next ->

Toji checks his phone to see the time is exactly 7 PM, so here he is standing in front of your dorm room’s entrance just as you asked him to. He rings the bell and waits. A few seconds pass and the door opens by itself, revealing a dark room only lit by purple LED lights.

“Toji Fushiguro,” he hears a voice call. His eyes follow the sound to find you sitting in front of your computer setup, your back facing him.

“Y/N?” he asks as he steps in hesitantly. Once he does, the door closes and locks behind him automatically.

What have you made your room into?

You kick the chair next to yours before saying, “Sit.” And for the first time in his life, Toji feels as though he is the one being intimidated. He sits on the chair and finally sees your face when he feels his heart do something it has never done before. 

It skips a beat.

Toji clears his throat. “Hi, I’m Toji.”

You look like you’re suppressing a mocking smile. “I’m aware.”

“Right, so–”

“Give me your phone.”

Right on business, huh? Just the way he prefers anyways. Then why does he feel a pang of disappointment? Ignoring the confusion bubbling in his head, he unlocks his phone and gives it to you.

“Has this stalker ever called you?”

“No, they just send me texts from different numbers.”

“When did it start?” you ask as you begin to connect his phone to your PC.

“About two weeks ago.”

“And how frequently do you get these texts?”

“At first, I used to get one every day, but after a week of that had passed, I’ve been getting multiple texts a day.”

“Show me the texts.”

He hesitates.

“What?”

“Well, the texts are just them telling me where I currently am and sending me screenshots of the tape.”

“I genuinely don’t care about seeing anything explicit, if you have the courage to film it, you can show it to me. I’m helping.”

He opens each text one by one and shows them to you; and in the last one, you see that Toji had finally asked what they demanded to which they talked about him having to resign from the basketball team.

“Is it okay if I transfer data from your phone to my PC so I can work on this?”

“Do anything, it doesn’t matter.”

“Okay then, just a second,” you say as you open a window on your computer that is completely unknown to Toji. He unintentionally stares at you in awe as you work on your craft like an expert. As he watches as you type in what he assumes are codes, he can’t help but feel impressed by your skills.

“So how come I’ve never seen you around campus before?” He breaks the silence.

Your eyes don’t divert from your screen when you answer. “Uhh, I attend most of my classes online, and I don’t really have that many friends that I hang out with.”

“Why do you attend your classes online if you’re already on campus?”

“Well, first of all, I have a job so time management can be a hassle. And most of my work is online anyways, I have everything on this PC that I can’t carry to my classes.”

“Right.”

You soon disconnect the cable from his phone and hand it back to him. “I will do a thorough check up on the data and reach out to you later, okay?”

“Sure, thanks, doll.”

“Fushiguro, I have access to your entire photo library along with your browser history. If you call me that one more time, I won’t just go through them but also leak every single one of your secrets.”

“You have my what? I thought by data you meant my phone bill history or some shit.”

“I had to take everything just in case.”

“Just in case of what, exactly?”

“Who knows?”

Wow, he is terrified of you. “So like, are you gonna go through my shit now?”

“I’ll go through whatever I need to go through in order to investigate. Nothing more, nothing less. Now leave.”

“But you–”

“Leave.”

“Fine, damn,” he snaps before stealing one last glance at your face and turning back.

Note: The writing feels very bland and that's definitely not because of my busy schedule (it totally is). Part 3 will be out tomorrow hopefully.

Tags: @linaaeatsfamilies @aseqan @corvid007 @sevensdigitalheaven @minkoq

[sunshine6ixty]

i think this is where i've landed with the whole gaiman thing.

some background, i was a gaiman girlie. i paid money to see him speak, i volunteered for a signing, i've taken pictures in front of the world's largest carousel; hugely formative, resonated on a level that nothing else i've encountered did, and so on and so on etcetera. (i got to say "mr gaiman i wouldn't be who i am today without your books" to him, which is a Different Flavored Memory now than it once was, i can tell you)

and like. though his books had a familiar and fond place in my life, i'd already gotten to a point of... nebulous disenchantment? not disgust or anything-- just that nature was taking its course, and i was drifting away. i started reading neil gaiman at age... what, thirteen? maybe eleven? and i read his work consistently for a while. i'm in my thirties now, and i haven't been keeping track, but i've read american gods once a year for at least the past five years. it was just... kinda time, in a way. he seemed like he'd said what he had to say, and was coasting in a perpetual victory lap, which i was fine with. i'd just... keep picking at the gaiman books again when i was bored.

and i remember thinking, around when i first noticed this distance i'd been feeling, that i was just... running dry. things felt stale and i didn't know where to look to change that.

and then this all happened.

and all of a sudden, my perception of this person has been wrenched into a completely new perspective. just, twisted sideways, seams popping, eyes bugging, can't-unbreak-the-action-figure wrenched. the spell is broken, in an ironically gaiman-esque way, and this mythic figure (~*nEIL GAIman*~) is revealed to be just a shitty, spoiled brat of a complete fucking monster.

i've read the article, i've heard the stories about how weird he was for doctor who, i've seen not-unreasonable allegations of plagarism floating around-- suffice it to say, he's just a shit of a dude. he's... not special. not really. he's a good writer who said one thing with his work, and lived another. who saw something that resonated, and put his name on it. who said something that we felt, and said he gave it to us.

and i realized, from this angle, that the reason i was feeling so dried out was likely because neil gaiman (some might say purposefully) took all the fucking air out of the room. like, nobody was neil gaiman, right, so what right could you have to try to do a neil gaiman? he was the only gaiman. the apex of gaiman. peak gaiman. the mystical, profound, monotheistic god of dark poetic storytelling.

but like. he wasn't. it turns out, he was just a shitty dude. magic or no, he was mostly just entitled.

and i think that sort of broke something in me. if the curtain was pulled back and there was just a weird, shitty little dude in there, then what the fuck have i been doing? in an... i-should-probably-talk-to-a-therapist-about-this sort of way, neil gaiman kept me from writing! like-- i was a kid who took pictures of graves at age five, who made up a story about a child bricked up in the school belltower who's ghost still wandered the halls (and published it in the school newspaper, next to what flavor milk does mrs k's 5th grade class prefer), who believed there was a door to another world beneath their neighbor's ornamental bush, who mapped the lost city (/junk dump) in the open space drainage ditch! this is the stuff i did before i knew gaiman! i liked gaiman because i was into this stuff already, and then after a while, without me really noticing it, neil gaiman became this stuff. the only source of it. the only rightful creator of a gaiman.

and like... if you know you can't do it like neil gaiman, because he's him and you're not, you kind of start despairing before you even begin, right?

fuck that.

i think, what i can take away from the whole debacle is this: it's time for all of us who have ever felt like this to do a gaiman.

... by which i mean, make our art. not the other stuff.

you have every right to be as audacious as neil gaiman with your art. take it as seriously, tell everyone it's as important. put that thing down on paper; the thing you otherwise wouldn't.

look, chances are, you're actually a better person than neil gaiman. he sucks. he was a skilled craftsman, but skill can be learned. what he did was practice and talk himself up. and there is nothing magical about neil gaiman that hasn't also run beneath our fingertips.

there was never anything unique about ~*neiLGAiman*~. not really. neil just made him up to be the special-est most darkest and dreamiest boy there ever was, and it was a fucking lie, and its insidious the degree to which it ate an entire genre.

because, honestly? i want to read more shit like neil gaiman! i've been hungry for more of what he said was solely his for so fucking long! i want to see what weird, fever-dream stories we've all been sitting on because he ate the entire ecosystem! i want to read all of the beautiful, terrible, fucked-up magical things from everyone that never saw the light of day because neil was too busy basking in it!

and now that the mask is off, it's fucking time. i'm going to take my shit back, neil. fuck you.

in a weird, fucked-up way, what a relief.

[elyxir1zz]

★ — Between the lines - part 3

CW : meanie sevika, artist reader, hockey player vi and sevika, modern au, highschool shenanigans, cheating, sex, dark themes, love triangle

A/N : i love readers mom. i know some of you were upset about reader leaving vi but reader will get justice i promise

previous part

“Your gonna drive home?” the low voice startles you. You look over to see sevika standing there. Shes making a weird face at you that makes your eyes dart to avoid her gaze

“No! I was gonna sleep the weed off in my car!” you shake your head. Obviously you werent gonna drive- well you had the thought- but youd always back out of something like that

“In the dark? With drunks around? Come on let me give you a ride on my bike” sevika looked back at her motorcycle. Of course, something that made her even more hotter 

You raise an eyebrow at her “go home on your whore bike?” you sigh 

Sevika blinked at you for a moment, then let out a low, amused chuckle. “Whore bike? That’s what we’re calling it now?” she asked, leaning against her motorcycle, arms crossed. Her smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, teasing but not unkind.

You crossed your arms, giving her a pointed look. “Well, isn’t it? Bet you have a long list of people who’ve taken a ride.”

Her laugh deepened, low and gravelly. “You really think I’m that busy, huh?” she said, shaking her head. “Hate to disappoint, but not everyone gets a ride.”

“Right,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I’m sure it’s just some exclusive club.”

Sevika stepped closer, her gaze leveling with yours, her smirk softening slightly. “You’re not wrong about it being exclusive,” she said, her voice dipping just slightly lower, sending an unwelcome shiver down your spine. “But tonight? It’s just a ride. No strings, no ulterior motives. Got it?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked away, suddenly regretting opening your mouth. “Fine,” you muttered. “But only because I don’t want to deal with any drunks tonight.”

“Uh-huh,” Sevika said, turning back to her bike. “Its cold. Here take my jacket” she said taking her coat 

You glared at her, snapping, “im fine” as she tossed you her jacket. Reluctantly you slide it on. 

She didn’t even glance back as she climbed onto the bike, her movements smooth and practiced. “Hop on,” she said, patting the seat behind her.

You hesitated for a second, staring at the bike like it was some kind of wild animal. Finally, with a resigned sigh, you climbed on behind her, gripping the seat tightly.

“Hold on,” Sevika said, glancing back at you over her shoulder.

You awkwardly placed your hands on her sides, trying not to think about how warm she felt. “This is fine, right?”

“Not unless you want to fall off,” she said with a smirk. “Wrap your arms around me.”

You froze for a moment, then reluctantly did as she said, looping your arms around her waist. You could feel her body shake slightly as she laughed at your hesitance.

“Relax,” she said, revving the engine. “I don’t bite… unless you ask.”

Your face burned, but before you could retort, the bike roared to life, and she took off down the road.

The wind whipped against your face as you held on tighter, your heart racing—not just from the speed but from the adrenaline coursing through you. The streets blurred past, and for a moment, it felt like you were flying.

Sevika slowed down as the bike approached your neighborhood. She pulled up in front of your house, cutting the engine. You slid off the bike, legs slightly shaky as you handed her the helmet.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, not meeting her gaze.

“Anytime,” Sevika said, smirking. “You’re not too bad at holding on. Might make a decent passenger.”

You rolled your eyes, though your lips twitched into a small smile. “Goodnight, Sevika.”

“Goodnight,” she said, her tone softer this time.

—

You walk up the stairs, stopping halfway when you realized you were still wearing Sevika’s jacket. “Oh, shit,” you muttered, glancing back at the front door as if you could run after her and return it. But she was long gone. With a sigh, you adjusted the jacket and continued up to your room.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you shuffled down the hall and pushed open the door to your darkened room, fumbling along the wall until you found the light switch.

“Well, howdy, stranger!” your mom’s cheery voice nearly made you jump out of your skin. She was sitting on your bed, a glass of wine in hand, grinning at you like she’d just caught you sneaking cookies before dinner.

You screamed, stumbling back into the doorframe. “Mom! Were you just sitting here in the dark?!”

“Don’t yell at me! You’re the one who snuck out,” she retorted, giving you a pointed look over the rim of her glass.

Your stomach sank. “Oh, please, I know you’re not actually mad,” you said, recovering quickly.

Your relationship with your mom had always been… unconventional. Less parent and child, more frenemies who occasionally tolerated each other.

She scooted over, patting the bed beside her. With a sigh, you walked over and flopped down next to her.

“You’re right,” she admitted with a smirk. “I’m not mad. Honestly, I’m impressed. Never thought you’d be the type to sneak out. So? Where’d you go?”

“A party,” you mumbled, leaning into her shoulder and nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? A party? Did you drink?” she asked, her tone curious rather than accusatory.

You hesitated, glancing up at her. “A little… is that okay?”

She sighed, rubbing your arm gently. “Yeah… yeah, it’s fine. Did you like it?”

You shook your head, a sheepish grin tugging at your lips. “Nah. I’m stoned, though.”

Her eyes widened briefly before she chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, great. My kid’s a stoner now. Wonderful.”

“It’s not a regular thing,” you said defensively, though the way she was smiling made it hard to feel truly scolded.

“Well,” she said, taking another sip of her wine, “at least you’re honest. And hey, next time, maybe don’t leave me sitting here wondering if I need to call the cops, alright?”

You laughed softly, settling more comfortably against her. “Deal. But for the record, you scared me more than anything else tonight.”

“Good,” she said, ruffling your hair affectionately. “Keeps you on your toes.”

—

You woke to the sound of your name being called, loud and insistent. “Someone’s here to see you,” your mom said, standing in your doorway, one hand on the knob and a figure behind her.

“Sevika?!” you blurted out, sitting up in bed so quickly it made your head spin. Your eyes widened, already anticipating the awkwardness of Sevika showing up to reclaim her jacket. The last thing you wanted was for her to think you'd stolen it on purpose.

But the figure stepped into the light, and it wasn’t Sevika.

“Violet,” Vi said, introducing herself with her usual calm yet serious tone. Her eyes locked onto yours, searching your face with an intensity that made your heart skip.

Your mom glanced between you and Vi, clearly amused. “I’m just gonna leave you two to whatever western showdown this is,” she teased with a smile, stepping back and leaving the door open as she disappeared down the hallway.

“Hey, listen—I’m sorry about last night,” you said quickly, throwing the sheets off yourself and standing. “I got stoned, and I wasn’t in the right headspace.”

“Don’t be. I understand,” Vi said, her smile soft as she stepped closer. Her hands rested lightly on your shoulders, urging you to sit back down on the edge of your bed. “But I wanted to talk to you.”

Your stomach twisted into a knot at her words. It wasn’t the lingering haze of the weed making you nervous this time—it was her. “Okay…” you replied hesitantly, offering a nervous smile as she sat down beside you.

Vi kept her gaze steady, though her fingers fidgeted with each other in her lap. “I really like you... but I’ve been getting mixed signals,” she admitted softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

You opened your mouth to respond but stopped yourself, sensing she wasn’t done.

“Do you like Sevika?” she asked, her words blunt and direct, though concern flickered behind them.

“No!” you replied instantly, far too quickly for it to sound casual. Your hands instinctively reached out, interlinking with Vi’s. “I don’t like her like that. I mean, she’s... I just—” You stopped yourself before rambling further, squeezing her hands as if the action alone could convey the truth.

Vi raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of your quick reaction, but her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. “You sure? I’m not trying to be possessive or anything, but... it feels like there’s something there.”

“There isn’t,” you assured her firmly. “I promise. It’s just you. Always you.”

Vi studied you for a moment longer, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Okay,” she said finally, her voice quiet but steady. “I just needed to hear it from you.”

You nodded, relief washing over you. “Thanks for telling me how you feel,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean to make things confusing.”

“Just... don’t keep me guessing, alright?” Vi smiled faintly, her fingers still tangled with yours. “I don’t want to lose you over some misunderstanding.”

“You won’t,” you said, squeezing her hand again. “I promise.”

“What does this mean… for us?” Vi asked, her voice soft but steady as her eyes searched your face, looking for any trace of doubt or hesitation.

You avoided her gaze for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked down. “I like you, Vi. I really do,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Her hand came up to cup your cheek, her touch gentle. “I want you to be my girlfriend,” she said, her tone filled with both vulnerability and hope.

“…Yes,” you nodded quickly, unable to stop the warmth spreading through you. Your eyes flickered to her lips as you leaned into her hand, nuzzling against her touch.

Concern briefly clouded her expression. “Are you sure? I don’t want to push—”

You didn’t let her finish, cutting her off as you pressed your lips against hers. Her words melted into the kiss as her hand instinctively found its place on your waist, pulling you closer. Vi leaned into you, her presence grounding and electric all at once.

When you pulled back, your gaze locked with hers. “You needed to shut up,” you said softly, a playful giggle escaping your lips.

“Sorry…” Vi smiled, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. Her fingers ran through your hair, her touch lingering as she glanced at your alarm clock and let out a sigh. “I have work.”

You watched her stand, already missing her closeness. “I’ll talk to you later, girlfriend,” you teased, the word sounding strange but perfect coming out of your mouth.

She smirked, stepping toward the door. “Bye, girlfriend,” she teased back, throwing a playful glance over her shoulder before disappearing down the hallway.

You flopped back onto your bed, a goofy, uncontrollable smile plastered across your face as you replayed the moment in your head.

—

You stood in front of your locker, trying to ignore the whispers and glances from people passing by. Over the weekend, your mom had accidentally spilled the news about you dating at her wine club, and it didn’t take long for that tidbit to spread like wildfire. By Monday morning, the entire school was buzzing—not just about you dating Vi, but also about how you left the party on Sevika’s motorcycle only to show up the next day with Vi on your arm while also wearing sevikas jacket, because you were dumb and left the house without a jacket and the only one in the car was sevikas

“Hey…you okay?” Vi’s familiar voice broke through your thoughts as she leaned casually against the locker next to yours, her signature soft smile easing your nerves.

You glanced up, your anxiety softening slightly at the sight of her. “Yeah…” you mumbled, though your tone wasn’t entirely convincing.

Vi tilted her head, her smile turning sympathetic. “I know this isn’t exactly your favorite thing—being the center of attention.” Her hand moved to rub gentle circles on your back, grounding you.

You groaned quietly, shoulders slumping. “It’s not like they’re saying anything bad, I know that. It’s just… the attention. It makes me so nervous.” You wrestled with your algebra textbook, trying to fit it into your already overstuffed bag.

“I get it, babe, and I’m sorry.” Vi’s voice was soothing, her tone filled with genuine empathy.

You shook your head, exhaling as you finally managed to calm yourself enough to fit the book into your bag. “It’s not your fault,” you reassured her, straightening up and giving her a small, grateful smile.

Vi checked her phone, her expression shifting slightly. “Class starts in ten,” she said softly, her voice apologetic. She reached out, squeezing your arm gently before leaning in to kiss your cheek. “I’ll see you after, okay?”

You nod with a smile watching her walk down the hallway

"Nice jacket."

The voice catches you off guard, and your eyes widen as you turn to see Sevika standing nearby. "Sevika!" you exclaim, startled. Your gaze drops to the jacket you're wearing—her jacket—and a flush of embarrassment rises to your face. "Uh… sorry, I accidentally took it on Friday night."

She raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable but enough to make your face heat up even more.

"It was cold," you mumble quickly, flashing her a nervous smile. You shrug it off, fumbling to hand it back to her.

She chuckles, the deep sound making your stomach flip. Instead of taking it, she pushes it back toward you. "Keep it. It looks good on you."

Your cheeks burn even hotter as you slide the jacket back on, catching a glimpse of the smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

You close your locker, looking up at her briefly before glancing at your phone. "I have class..." you mutter, shifting awkwardly on your feet.

Sevika’s gaze flickers to the side before she speaks again. "You free during lunch?" completely ignoring you

Her question makes you pause, caught off guard. You stand there for a moment, processing. 

"Uh… yes," you finally answer, your voice betraying a mix of nerves and excitement.

"Meet me at the café down the road," she says, her tone firm yet slightly tense, as though she's bracing herself.

You hesitate, glancing at her before nodding. “...sure” you smile softly

Sevika’s smirk deepens, and with a nod, she turns and walks away, leaving you rooted in place.

You stare after her, maybe for a little too long, before the sharp ring of the bell snaps you out of your thoughts. Your eyes widen as you glance at the time—had ten minutes already passed?

— 

You stand outside the café, leaning against the wall and fidgeting with your phone. Was this a good idea? You couldn't tell. This wasn’t a date—at least, you didn’t think it was. Sevika wouldn’t pull something like that... right? Letting out a heavy sigh, you try to push the thought away.

“You’re early,” Sevika’s voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts.

You glance up, noticing her approaching. She’s got that same calm confidence as always, but her eyes give you a once-over.

“You’re late,” you quip back, smirking as you push off the wall and slide your phone into your pocket.

Sevika steps past you, grabbing the door handle and pulling it open. She waits off to the side, gesturing for you to go in first.

“Thanks,” you mutter with a small smile, catching sight of a “Help Wanted” sign taped to the window as you walk inside.

She follows close behind, and the two of you make your way to the counter.

“A black coffee,” Sevika orders, her voice steady.

You glance up at the menu, considering your options. “Can I get a cinnamon latte, please?” you say, reaching for your wallet.

Before you can pull out your card, Sevika leans over and taps hers against the reader. The beep confirms the transaction before you even register what happened.

“Did you just pay for me?” you ask, stunned, staring at her like she’s just done something unimaginable.

Sevika shrugs, her expression unreadable.

At the pick-up counter, the silence between you both feels heavy. You shift awkwardly, tapping your fingers against the edge of your cup as you wait.

Finally, you break the quiet. “So… why did you want to talk to me?”

As the barista sets your drinks on the counter, Sevika grabs hers without a word, and the two of you settle into a nearby table.

She takes a sip of her coffee, glancing at you over the rim of the cup. “About… Vi.”

You almost choke on your latte, setting it down hastily to avoid spilling it. “Yeah?” you mutter, wiping your mouth with your sleeve.

“You’re too good for her,” Sevika says bluntly, her fingers tightening around her cup.

“Oh.” Your voice comes out flat as you avoid her gaze, your eyes darting around the café. “What—what do you mean?”

Sevika leans back slightly, her gaze steady. “I knew her in freshman year,” she starts, resting her head on her hand.

“Oh, so we’re doing this now,” you snap, your tone sharper than you intended. You’re appalled that she’d bring this up right when things were finally starting to go well for you and Vi.

Sevika doesn’t flinch. “She’s a bad person.”

“Sevika.” You lean forward, your tone low and defensive. “Why are you even doing this?”

She lets out a sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Because she has everything,” she says, her words clipped.

“What?” Your annoyance gives way to curiosity, though you don’t bother hiding the edge in your voice.

“She has everything,” Sevika repeats, leaning forward. “She grew up in a huge house. Had filling meals every night.” Her voice drops to a whisper.

You can’t help but focus on her, your eyes scanning her features as she continues.

“She’s got money, a future…” Sevika’s gaze locks onto yours, her tone growing softer. “And now, she has you.”

For a moment, you’re silent, guilt creeping into your chest. “Why are you telling me this?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

Sevika glances away, her jaw tightening. “…Because I don’t.” Her voice is barely audible as she adds, “She has you.”

The weight of her words presses down on you. Blinking, you push back your chair and stand abruptly. “I have to go,” you mutter, grabbing your things before she can stop you.

“Wait—” Sevika calls out your name, her voice laced with something you can’t quite place. But you’re already walking out the door, the sound of the bell overhead echoing as you step into the cool air outside.

Taglist:

@vyvvycg

next part

[the-phiwi]

Phiwi!

I would love to hear your adoption story, how did Dan and Phil find you?

I am so glad you asked!

I was but a lonely kiwi sitting on a shelf, I mean, I did have my fellow kiwi friends but I yearned for something more.

I had always felt like my purpose in life was more than just to sit on a shelf collecting dust. Hoping that some stranger buys me for their garden as I sit there to rust.....

That's when a mysterious hand reached out and picked me up. My kiwi mates all watched me, the chosen one in envy.

The hand started stroking my metal feathers gently, assuring me that everything was going to be okay. They explained that I was to be spray painted gold and put on a stage in front of thousands of people. I almost shat myself. Alas, we went to the front of the store to buy the paint, and I got to see the outdoors for the first time. It was a beautiful moment.

I was strapped to a chair. I hear it's called a seatbelt, and is to keep passengers safe.

I was then taken to an undisclosed location and spray painted a bright yellow. (Mysterious hand person bought the wrong paint).

But that was okay, cause they got the right paint in the end. It felt nice when it was sprayed up my bum.

After I had dried, I got to meet this 'Dan and Phil' I had heard so much about. The dark haired one cackled very loudly when he first saw me, and the blonde one just started into my soul with a little smirk on his face.

Come show day, I was placed on a big black box. I was super nervous to be in front of all those fans. I was told about the legend that is the Golden Pig. How could one ever live up to such an iconic creature? I was afraid I would let everybody down, and that they'd wish that the pig was there instead of me. Phil gave me a pep talk before they went backstage to start the show, and I felt a little better.

After the end of the show, I wasn't sure what my fate would be. I am a pretty big kiwi, and London is 24 hours worth of flights away. Would Dan and Phil really bother to bring me back to their home? I thought I was done for.

Luckily, I was wrong, and I was brought all the way across the world to my new home in The Phouse.

And now finally, my life has a meaning. The sense of fulfilment is crazy. I got to be onstage in front of thousands of people. I am now painted gold and feel like a STAR. I have made great friends (hi Pheal and Golden Pig, ily), and have the most loving dads who treasure my existence. The Phouse is the height of luxury. When I was a lonely orphan at The Warehouse, I could have only dreamed of a life like this.

Thank you Dan and Phil for adopting me 🥝💛x

[reocidal]

FILM DIVA!

PAIRING ALHAITHAM X GN!READER

WARNINGS alhaitham gets hit by one (1) (soft) (cardboard) popcorn bucket, one (1) instance of swearing. romcom ish? vibes?

WORD COUNT 703

AUTHOR'S NOTE um. haha whats this @phantasmaebg

ALHAITHAM has always lived his life in black and white, clear cut rules and a perfect routine. he has no need for the mundane "joys" of everyday life, or whatever kaveh's been harping about most recently. he'd made that clear to himself — and everyone else — on his first day at the akademiya. he's skipped lunch dates and dinner dates and movie dates and hangouts with his friends (they're not his friends, he says) in lieu of studying more. black and white, study and sleep, that's all he needs in his life.

he thinks it's only fitting that you waltz unapologetically into his life, whimsical splashes of colour and noise as a sick sort of karma afterwards. you're loud and bright and your blood (he assumes) is liquid rainbows and you're everything he isn't. you're also dragging him to a movie theatre right now, and he really doesn't want to go.

there's a permanent scowl etched onto his face, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black hoodie. you'd told him to dress casual, and then gone through his entire closet when he'd opened the door in something appropriate only for the most depressing and sombre of funerals. after a lengthy consultation with "the committee", as you claimed — he thinks you just spoke to the other voices in your head — you'd come up with the most casual of outfits possible in his (rather hopeless) case. a dark hoodie, and even darker jeans.

"seriously, dude, get something nicer," you'd grumbled, and he'd glared at you in response, but the mental note was still made.

you're quite the contrast to him — what colour even is this? chartreuse? whatever you're wearing is absolutely hideous and would make anyone wearing it look even worse, but not you. never you, apparently. he really hates his brain, but you're positively glowing in this lettuce-coloured garbage bag.

the movie is boring; he prefers to look at you instead — though he'd never say that out loud. the micromovements of your face, the expressions that you make, bathed in the ever-changing multi-coloured light of the screen — it's all a thousand times more intriguing than whatever's going on in the film.

halfway through the film, you turn to him accusingly. "you're not paying attention!"

"i am," he protests, although without any effort to actually oppose your claim. you raise an unconvinced brow and he shrugs. "not that this needs a lot of attention to be given in order to be understood. it's quite simple, actually."

"that's one of my favourite movies ever," you snort. "you shouldn't insult people like that, you shit!"

how does he fix this?

"or consider," he begins, smooth, placating. "the simplicity of the film is the exact reason why it appeals to you. it provides you the comfort that you yearn for without making you feel the discomfort of having to use your brain."

"are you calling me dumb, alhaitham?"

he grimaces. "no, y/n, you're very smart. really."

unfortunately, he also accidentally uses his comfort unruly children voice and not his i am being sooo serious voice.

your empty popcorn carton hits him square in the jaw. he picks it off the floor (no littering!) and rubs his face with his free hand. "this was somewhat unnecessary, don't you think, y/n?"

"thanks for the heads up," you reply, rather unremorsefully. "it'll probably happen again."

he's never been happier to be alone with you, he decides. better to be embarrassed alone than in front of an audience. wait, technically he's the audience here, right? how confusing; he hates to think about it. the rest of the movie passes rather uneventfully — he pays a little more attention than before, and you tone down the physical violence to only one or two jabs that you declare are accidental. (he knows they're not.) on the way home, you buy him an ice pack and a meat stew: PIZZA edition; 40% off! as an apology.

back at home, alhaitham thinks it over and decides that he does not hate you at all. after all your antics today, it concerns him tremendously. surely… surely not. he doesn't do romance; this is impossible! yet, a pale flush spreads across his face all the same.

© reocidal 2024

[callsign-rogueone]

some girl on a horse

Sawyer Henrick x reader (peach!) words: 4k 🏷: major iron flame spoilers in this one, peach is a horse girl lowkey, temporary heartbreak, miscommunication (or just lack of communication), sawyer should really be in the doghouse here but he's too damn cute to be mad at, sweetheart cameo... that's all I got. onyx storm tomorrow! why am I dreading it...

With each passing day, it has become more clear that you and Sawyer are done playing pretend. He’s fulfilled his duty, and is probably glad to be done with it, not having to cross the bridge to go see you every day, or to spend his weekends with you in town. He has better things to do as a rider, and an executive officer at that. 

Maybe this was the will of the universe, having your paths split, then cross, then split again. It was childish to think that you’d stay close forever, that he’d stick around longer than he had to. He’d invited you out with his friends as a nicety, and then been too polite to decline when Rhiannon had volunteered him to be your knight in shining armor. You’d been an obligation to him, nothing more. 

But there had been so many moments where you saw something like love in his eyes when he’d looked at you, felt it in his touch and heard it in his words.

He’d have made a great stage actor.

Hot tears slip down your cheeks, blurring your view of the setting sun. You’ve started spending your free time out by the end of the bridge. You can’t cross it, but you can sit there and wait. And wait you do — a book laying in your lap unread, your hands numbing from the cold wind as you gaze across the river.

Your heart leaps every time anyone comes by, falling harder each time you realize it’s not him. It’s getting dark earlier each day, getting closer to the solstice. If Sawyer and his friends have really dumped you, then that’ll be a lot fewer presents to make. 

But the boy you’d grown up with wouldn’t do this to you. He was good to the core, always one to do the right thing, the one person you could always rely on and could always trust to keep your secrets, that you’d been content to die beside when that fire had swept through the village all those years ago.

That’s what’s kept you putting on the necklace he’d given you each day after you say your prayers, kept you reading the death rolls every morning for his name and waiting out here every afternoon for any sight of him — the belief that he’d come back to you if he could.

He’ll be back tomorrow, a little bruised but otherwise intact, and you’ll bandage him up, and everything will be alright. It’ll go on like that until July, when you graduate and get shipped off… somewhere, and then maybe the gods will be kind enough to let your paths cross again.

You’d quietly accepted that you’d drift apart at school, but now that he’s back in your life, losing him is going to hurt so badly.

Your friend bursts through the doorway, panting. “The riders are leaving.”

“What?”

“Look,” she wheezes. 

Your heart drops at the sight: at least a hundred dragons all flying straight overhead. Dozens of them are red, and any one of them could be Sawyer’s. Did he leave with them? Where are they going? Is something terrible happening, and they were called in as reinforcements? 

They’re headed south, not west — not to the border with Poromiel. Navarre probably isn’t going to war, then. But what else would demand that much firepower? 

Nothing good, that’s for certain.

————————

Rumors swirl around the quadrant for the next few days, every patient and healer having something to say about the week’s events.

Are we sure this isn’t just another one of their games?

Traitors, the lot of them. They should be rounded up and hung.

I’m sure there’s a reason why they left. Maybe they know something we don’t. 

Someone calls your name down the hall; Yara, a scribe cadet you’d befriended last year.

“It’s good to see you— oh!” you squeak in surprise as she pulls you into a hug — you hadn’t taken her for a hugger, and you really aren’t that close.

“Don’t react,” she whispers into your hair, “but his name is on the list. He left, and the rest of his squad, too. The Sorrengail girl, at least.”

You blink, stunned. “To where?”

“They’re saying Riorson led them all to Tyrrendor. That venin and wyvern are real, but the leadership and the crown are ignoring the threat.” She breaks the hug, painting on a bright smile. “Me and some of the girls are going out for drinks this weekend. You should go.”

You search her eyes for some indicator that she’s hinting at what you think she is.

“It’ll be a bit of a hike,” she continues, “but we’ve done crazier things.”

Have you, really? What she’s suggesting would be capital-I Insane, and potentially land you in prison. And wyvern and venin are just fairy tales, aren’t they?

You chew your lip, thinking. If Yara is right, and Violet, the smartest person you know, had left with the rest of them, there must have been some pretty damning evidence to convince her. And if she left, then Sawyer, Ridoc, and Rhiannon definitely went with her. 

“Maybe,” you respond a moment later than appropriate for the conversation you appear to be having. “I don’t know if it would be the best idea — I have a botany test that I really need to study for.”

“Understandable. Let me know either way. Good seeing you!”

“You too,” you manage, your heart and mind both racing. Did she really suggest that you follow them to Tyrrendor, or are you going completely insane?

There’s only one person you can talk to about this.

—————

“I can’t decide if this is the best idea you’ve ever had, or the worst,” Sarah offers around a yawn.

“Hopefully not the worst,” you reply, looking around the barn. Your eyes settle on a chestnut mare, the only one awake at this hour. “Hi, girl. You wanna go on an adventure with me?” She snorts softly, happily letting you scratch at her chin. “I’m taking that as a yes.” You turn back to Sarah. “If anyone asks…”

“I have no idea where you are. Do you have everything you need?”

“I think so. I took everything I care about, so if they want to assume I’m dead, I’m fine with you burning it all.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t get to that point.”

“Thank you for everything,” you say softly, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll write from the road — or your uncle Fergus will. Leave her stall and the barn open. Some idiot forgot to lock up properly and she bolted.”

“This is why you’re the smart one. Too bad you’re absolutely nuts.”

You laugh, quieting as you realize that it’s still very much four in the morning, and you’re supposed to be making a silent exit. 

“I really fucking hope you’re right about this,” she whispers, holding you tighter.

“Me too.”

The horse lets you saddle and mount easily, walking you toward the door. “Alright, girl,” you say, patting her neck. “Let’s see how fast you can go.”

————————————

“Did you need something?” Brennan asks the infantry officer, looking rather peeved that he’d interrupted his lecture. 

“We have a bit of a situation,” he says quietly, embarrassed. “There’s some girl on a horse outside, says she’s a healer. Came all the way from Basgiath.”

Second squad exchanges a look.

“There’s only one healer I know that’s crazy enough to do that,” Rhiannon whispers.

Violet looks over at her, incredulous. “You don’t think…” 

Ridoc grins from ear to ear, clapping a hand onto Sawyer’s shoulder. “Why are you still here? Go get your girl.”

Sawyer bolts from his seat, ignoring Brennan’s protests as he races down the hall toward the front gates. “She’s on our side,” he calls, and the two guards lower their swords, letting him through.

Your head snaps up at the voice, your body flooding with relief at the sight of him. You spring forward and hug him tightly, clutching the black leather of his jacket for dear life. “You’re alive,” you breathe, and his heart cracks right down the middle. “Gods, Sy, I was so scared… The leadership wouldn’t tell us anything, and I didn’t hear from you or Violet or Ridoc or anyone… I waited for you at the bridge every day, but you never came, and I thought…”

He wraps his arms around you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, peach,” he whispers, rife with guilt. “It hurt so fucking bad to leave you behind, but I knew you’d be safer there, under the wards.”

You’re crying now, tears slipping down your cheeks and seeping into the fabric of his shirt. “Don’t tell me that anything is safer than being with you.”

He holds you a little closer, rubbing your back gently — slow sweeps of his palm, up and down, up and down, letting you get it all out. 

“I mean it,” you sniff, still clinging to him. “I need you, Sy. I don’t ever want to be away from you like that again.”

“Hey,” he soothes, holding you closer, “I swear to every god who’s listening that I will never leave you behind again. You have my word.”

“Good,” you say in that same cracked whisper you’d used when you’d agreed to let him protect you from James, to play pretend with him.

He continues to whisper soft reassurances to you, rubbing your back. “I’m okay. Everyone is okay. They’re all here, Ridoc and Violet and Rhiannon and everyone. They’re all safe.”

That makes you feel a little better — you’ve become deeply attached to his squad in the last three months, and you couldn’t bear the thought of any of them being injured, or worse. “Is it true?” you ask softly. “All those fairy tales about wyvern and dark magic?”

“It is,” he says quietly. “All of it.”

You exhale deeply, sitting with the information for a moment. “I don’t know what to say,” you admit.

“That’s okay,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Your tears have dried by now — you don’t have any left, likely because you’re so dehydrated. Water had been scarce the last few days. 

He finally puts it together. “Did you steal a horse?”

“I prefer the term liberated,” you wheedle, and Cinnamon chuffs softly in agreement.

“From who?”

“Some poor infantry cadet. They didn’t treat her right, anyway.”

He laughs, bewildered. “You’re absolutely crazy, Peach.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, waving him off, “but you love it.”

He holds you tighter, letting you lean into him — you’re exhausted, your entire body sore from your journey. “I do,” he says softly. “I do love it. I love everything about you.”

Your breath catches. “Sawyer…” you whisper, a warning that you’re getting close to something you can’t ever come back from. 

He ignores it. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m so grateful that you came back into my life when you did. I don’t want to play pretend anymore. I want this to be real.”

“I want that too,” you say quietly. “I was going to tell you the day that you left.”

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “I promise you that I’ll spend the rest of my days making it up to you.”

“I don't think I was ever really pretending,” you admit into his shoulder.

He laughs softly, his chest shaking against yours. “I wasn’t either.” You shiver, burrowing into him further — it’s freezing out here, but he’s impossibly warm. “Alright. Let’s get you ladies inside.” 

Cinnamon lets him take the reins easily, trusting him to be gentle with her after seeing the way you ran to him and hugged him so tightly. 

You stay tucked into his side as you make the short walk to the stables. 

He turns to you after a moment, pausing his work of undoing the tack. “Wait. It’s a twelve-hour flight from here to the school… When did you leave?”

“Nine days ago,” you answer tiredly. “It would have been eight, but there was a rockslide in the mountains, so I had to double back and take the long way round.”

“Nine days?” he echoes. “How did you…”

“I followed the south star,” you explain, gazing up at him. “And then a friend of ours found me, and led me the rest of the way here.”

“You’re welcome,” Sliseag adds.

Sawyer blinks for a second, processing. “You two never cease to surprise me.”

You laugh, the puff of breath visible in the air. “Him and I have an understanding.”

“Evidently so,” he agrees, finishing up.

You step outside, tilting your head up to watch the flakes fall. “Just like home.”

He smiles, tugging you closer. “Just like home,” he agrees, leaning his head down…

You put your hand in front of your mouth to stop him. “That’s not a good idea,” you squeak, your cheeks warming. 

He looks at you, confused and a little hurt.

“Sy, I’ve been camping for the last three days,” you prompt, embarrassed. “There weren’t any inns between here and Deaconshire.”

It dawns on him after a second. “Ah.”

“Yeah. So if there’s a bathtub and a sink in that castle back there, I’d like to use them.”

———————

He isn’t expecting you to start stripping so fast, but you’re so eager to be out of your dirty clothes and into the warm water that you don’t think about the fact that Sawyer is still standing there.

He whirls around as soon as he realizes.

“Facing the wall and closing your eyes? I’m almost a little offended,” you tease.

You can see how red his cheeks are in the mirror as he responds. “It’s called being respectful. I’m gonna find you some clean clothes. I’ll be back.”

You hum, letting your head tip back against the tiled wall. By the time Sawyer returns, you’ve washed up, and are just relaxing, enjoying the moment of peace. The warm water is so nice after the freezing cold weather outside, and besides the last week of traveling, you haven’t taken a real bath in two and a half years — showering at Basgiath just isn’t the same. 

“You about ready? It’s almost dinnertime, and you need to eat something.”

You whine in protest, sinking deeper into the water.

“Okay,” he concedes. “Five more minutes. But you’re gonna get all pruney.”

You wiggle your fingers at him playfully. “Oh, it’s too late. I’ve been pruned.”

He rolls his eyes. “What am I going to do with you?”

“C’mere,” you coax, sitting up a bit and resting your forearms on the edge of the tub, leaning toward him.

He settles onto the floor, at eye level with you.

“I brushed my teeth,” you tell him. “So I’m ready for that kiss now. Are you gonna do it, or should I—” Your sentence is interrupted with a soft whimper as he pulls you forward with a hand on your jaw, guiding you into a dizzying kiss. Water sloshes against the side of the tub as you rise up onto your knees, wanting him even closer, but you have to pull back for air. 

“Minty fresh,” he pronounces, brushing his nose against yours.

“Gods,” you breathe, “Why didn’t we do this earlier?”

“I have no idea. But we have the rest of our days to make up for it.”

It’s your turn to tug him forward. You bring a hand up to cradle his cheek, sending water droplets running down the side of his neck, but he doesn’t seem to mind, still entirely focused on you as the kiss gets deeper and deeper, making up for lost time.

He pulls back after a moment, and you whine softly, pouting up at him as he stands. “Dinner,” he reminds you gently. “We can pick this back up later tonight.”

That seems to appease you — there’s that mischievous little twinkle in your eye, the one he loves so much. “I’m holding you to that,” you warn.

“Please do,” he answers a little too quickly, holding out a thick towel and turning his gaze to the wall so you can get up.

“Averting your eyes again? Ouch.”

He reddens, still looking away. “If I see you naked right now, we won’t make it to dinner.”

You giggle, taking the towel from him and pressing a kiss to his flushed cheek. “You, Sawyer Henrick, are adorable.”

He clears his throat, gesturing to the pile on the counter and changing the subject. “I think these should fit.”

Black on black, of course. This castle… palace? fortress? is full of riders. At least it’s cotton fabric and not all leather — that would be a bitch to put on with wet skin.

You throw your still-dripping hair into an easy style; you’ll take the time to dry it and detangle and everything later. “This feels like a hallow’s eve costume. All I need is the jacket,” you joke, examining your reflection.

He shrugs his off, draping it over your shoulders, and your heart nearly stops. 

You’d had his tongue in your mouth not three minutes ago, but this somehow feels even more intimate — wearing his jacket, with his name over your heart, being wrapped in his scent and the warmth of his body that lingers on the fabric... Definitely against regulation, but so are a lot of things you’ve done in the last week, namely taking an unplanned and unsanctioned leave of absence from Basgiath with no real plans to return. 

You’ll deal with those consequences later. Maybe.

—————

You freeze at the sight of the group of people entering the hall, their brown uniforms and the quivers of arrows over their shoulders marking them as gryphon fliers. You’ve never seen one in person before. 

“It’s a very long story, but they’re on our side now,” Sawyer explains, but he still holds you a little closer anyway — it’s unclear if he doesn't fully trust them, or if he just wants to comfort you in the presence of the people you’d been taught to treat as enemies.

“That should not have been a surprise after everything else you told me,” you laugh, but the sight of them still makes you a little nervous. 

He stops at one of the long tables and drops a kiss to your forehead. “Sit. I’ll get you some real food.”

Rhiannon is the first to spot you. “I told you it had to be her!”

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” Violet says, wide eyed.

You laugh, settling into an open spot on the bench. “I feel like a little kid playing dress-up. But at least I don’t stick out so much anymore. The blue was a little…”

“I thought it was nice,” someone says quietly — a girl sitting next to Ridoc with a book open in front of her. You recognize her from the infirmary; he had brought her in one morning, covered in cuts and bruises. A little butterfly had fluttered around her the whole time, landing on your arm once as you worked.

You offer her a soft smile. “Glad to see you in one piece.”

“I hear you’re our newest healer,” someone greets — a man who looks a bit older than you. Your eyes catch on the Lieutenant Colonel insignia on his jacket, and then the mender’s patch. He must be the equivalent of Nolon around here.

“Yes, sir,” you answer shyly, suddenly a little embarrassed to be wearing someone else’s uniform. “Or one in training, anyway.”

“We’ll take what we can get. Come by the infirmary tomorrow, and we’ll get you started.” He pats Sawyer on the shoulder in passing, giving him a knowing smile. “Your squadmates can fill you in on what you missed this afternoon.”

Sawyer reddens. “Thank you, sir.”

You wait until he returns to the head table before you look back at Violet, wide-eyed. “Is that…”

She nods. “Officially, he isn’t. But yes, that’s my brother. How did you know?”

“You have the same smile. And the signet patch — Nolon talks about your brother all the time. He’s the best mender there’s been in a hundred years.”

“He’s pretty good,” she concedes. “Second only to Lieutenant Avan, but don’t tell him I said that.”

Your ears prick up at the mention of the girl. “Is she here too? How’s she doing?”

“You know her?” Ridoc’s girl asks, curious. 

You nod. “She came in all the time with Professor Carr to practice. Oh, I hated that guy. Poor girl always looked so uncomfortable around him, and he’d work her to the bone every time. I talked back to him once, telling him to let her stop before she keeled over, and I was sure that he’d get me in trouble for it, but he just gave me that creepy stare and left.”

“I know the one,” she says with a shudder. “He’s the worst.”

“Food,” Sawyer prods before you can reply, pushing the plate closer to you.

You roll your eyes at him, but you finally realize how hungry you are, tucking in to your first real meal in days — nothing fancy, just some kind of fish and vegetables and brown bread, but it’s much more appetizing than anything you’d had at any of those terrible inns in Deaconshire, and with much better company. You had to cut everything with one hand, the other under the table clutching Sawyer’s dagger to defend yourself against any of the other patrons, but praying that you wouldn’t have to. Mercifully, they’d all left you alone.

It feels like you’re back at school, crammed around one of the tiny tables at the tavern you’d frequented — the same laughter and easy chatter, as if you aren’t preparing for a war of proportion you don’t yet understand.

You keep up with the conversation for a little while, finishing your plate and resting your head on Sawyer’s shoulder for a moment, a gentle gesture of thanks. He wraps an arm around you, tucking you into his side as the squad continues to discuss several things that go in one ear and out the other, but are likely important to this effort — journals and runes and wards and the original six.

You can’t keep your eyes open. Now that you’ve reunited with Sawyer, gotten cleaned up and eaten something, the adrenaline has faded, and you just want to sleep for the next four days — in a real bed with real blankets, not a thin sleeping bag on the frozen ground.

“M’sorry,” you murmur. “Just really tired.”

He chuckles softly. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Let’s get you to bed.”

You bid everyone goodnight, trudging up endless flights of stairs to a barracks room that’s devoid of anything except a bed made up with plain sheets and the pack you’d taken from school. 

“Home sweet home,” he announces. “At least you don’t have a roommate. I get to deal with Ridoc twenty four hours a day now.”

You manage a laugh, kneeling down to look through your bag and setting a few things on the empty desk. “Now it’s home.”

He raises his eyebrows, amused. “Glad to see that your bunny made the cut when you were packing a bag to commit treason.”

“I wasn’t going to leave him behind after twenty years,” you defend, a little embarrassed.

“Understandable,” he offers. “Alright. You’ve got pajamas, bathroom’s down the hall, you have your key… you all set?” You nod in affirmation, and he kisses your forehead, giving you a soft hug before he turns toward the door. 

You whine softly, holding on a little longer. “You’re leaving?”

“I need to shower, but I can come back after, if you want.”

You cover a yawn with your hand. “That would be nice.”

“Alright. Get changed. I’ll be back.”

The door unlocking and the movement of the mattress under his weight stir you from your sleep. 

The bed is just barely big enough for the two of you, but you don’t mind, curling into his side and nuzzling your cheek into his shoulder. He’s warm, and the weight of his arms around you is soothing.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Get some rest. You’ve had a long week.”

[ssa-danhotchner]

Jealousy jealousy | Aaron Hotchner x reader

summary: reader has finally started moving on from their past relationship with Aaron

cw: fem!reader, BAU!reader, reader is seeing someone new, Hotch wants to come back, regret, emotional conflict, jealousy, tension, let me know if I missed anything

wc: 1.1k

note: English isn't my first language so please be kind. I'm not really good at seconds part but I tried my best

read the first part here

The soft hum of conversation filled the BAU’s conference room as you glanced down at the case file in your hands, pretending to be focused. You weren’t, of course—not when you could feel Aaron’s gaze on you from across the table.

It was happening more often lately. The way his eyes lingered on you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, the way his jaw tightened whenever you laughed a little too brightly at one of Morgan’s jokes. You told yourself it didn’t matter. Whatever he was feeling—or thought he was feeling—didn’t change anything.

You were done waiting for Aaron Hotchner.

It had been months since that late night in the bullpen when you sat alone, drowning in memories of him. Something had shifted in you since then. Maybe it was the realization that holding onto the past was only hurting you, or maybe it was the encouragement of Penelope and JJ, who had both gently nudged you toward prioritizing yourself for once.

Or maybe it was him.

Ethan.

You glanced at your phone sitting on the table in front of you, the screen lighting up with a new message. You didn’t even need to open it to know who it was from; Ethan had a knack for checking in at the most unexpected yet perfect moments.

The thought of him brought a small smile to your lips. He was nothing like Aaron—charming in a carefree, easygoing way that made you feel like you could finally exhale after holding your breath for so long. You hadn’t planned on letting anyone new into your life, but Ethan had a way of breaking down the walls you’d built around yourself without even trying.

You could feel Aaron’s gaze sharpen as your smile lingered.

“Something funny, (Y/N)?” he asked, his tone deceptively light but laced with an edge you couldn’t ignore.

You looked up, meeting his dark eyes across the table. “Just a message from a friend,” you said simply, refusing to elaborate.

“Must be a pretty funny friend,” Morgan chimed in, grinning at you.

You laughed, the sound coming a little too easily. “He has his moments.”

Aaron’s jaw clenched at the pronoun, but he said nothing more, turning his attention back to the case file in front of him.

The tension in the room was palpable, but you forced yourself to stay focused. You weren’t going to let Aaron’s mood swings ruin the progress you’d made. You were moving on—finally, truly moving on—and he had no right to pull you back into his orbit.

---

Later that evening, you found yourself at a small café just a few blocks from the office. Ethan sat across from you, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief as he recounted some ridiculous story about a coworker.

You laughed, genuinely this time, and for a moment, it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders.

“You have a great laugh, you know that?” Ethan said, his voice warm and sincere.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Stop,” you said, though you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m serious,” he insisted. “You light up when you laugh. It’s… it’s really nice to see.”

Your heart ached at the kindness in his words, so different from the guarded affection you’d grown used to with Aaron. Ethan was open in a way Aaron had never been, and though part of you still felt guilty for comparing them, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the change.

As the evening went on, you felt yourself relaxing more and more, letting go of the lingering shadows of your past. Maybe this was what you needed—a fresh start with someone who saw you for who you were, not who they wanted you to be.

But as you walked back to your car later that night, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out to find a text from an unfamiliar number.

Aaron: Are you free to talk?

You stared at the screen, your heart skipping a beat. You hadn’t heard from him outside of work in months. What could he possibly want now?

Against your better judgment, you texted back.

Is everything okay?

The response was almost immediate.

Aaron: I’m outside your building. Can we talk?

---

You found him standing on the sidewalk outside your apartment, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. The streetlights cast a warm glow over him, but his expression was anything but.

“What are you doing here, Hotch?” you asked, your voice sharp as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I needed to see you,” he said simply, his dark eyes searching yours.

You resisted the urge to laugh. “And this couldn’t wait until tomorrow at work?”

“No,” he said, his voice firm. “It couldn’t.”

You sighed, stepping closer despite yourself. “What is this about, Aaron?”

He hesitated, the silence stretching between you like a taut wire.

“I saw you today,” he said finally, his voice low. “Smiling at your phone. Laughing with him.”

You stiffened, your defenses going up immediately. “And?”

“And I realized something,” he continued, his gaze never leaving yours. “I don’t like it. I don’t like seeing you with someone else.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “You don’t get to say that,” you said, your voice shaking. “You don’t get to act like this after everything.”

“I know,” he said quickly, his tone desperate. “I know I don’t have the right. But I can’t help it, (Y/N). I can’t stand the thought of losing you—to him or anyone else.”

“You already lost me, Aaron,” you said, your voice breaking. “You made that choice a long time ago.”

His shoulders sagged, and for the first time, you saw the cracks in his stoic exterior. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he admitted. “But I was wrong. I was so wrong.”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “You don’t get to do this,” you whispered. “You don’t get to come back now, when I’m finally starting to move on.”

“I know,” he said again, his voice barely audible. “But I needed you to know how I feel. Even if it doesn’t change anything.”

You stood there, staring at him as the weight of his words settled over you. Part of you wanted to believe him, to let yourself fall back into the comfort of his arms. But another part of you knew better.

“You don’t get to be jealous, Aaron,” you said finally, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to fall. “You had your chance, and you let it go. Now it’s my turn to be happy.”

He nodded, the pain in his eyes cutting you to the core. “I just hope he knows how lucky he is,” he said softly.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone in the glow of the streetlights.

---

tags: @cocopuff213 @zaddyhotch @lillyrob

[kxtsukixoxo]

”boy i know what you desire, oh you’re such a bad bad liar” PART 1

⋆.˚ dabi x fem!reader

“open up (y/n) i don’t have time for your games”

“i don’t have time for this shigs” you removed your glasses, walking towards your back door. the only people who knew about this side of your house, was the league and the only time they ever needed you was when they needed medical attention. you were a huge asset to shigariki and his bandits, atleast according to Kurogiri.

opening the door, you noticed a splayed collapsing figure thrown across shigarakis shoulder, “quick.” was all that left Shigarakis lips, you let out a deep breath rubbing the bridge of your nose, “one quick text wouldn’t hurt y’know, i don’t even have the room prepared” “i’ll pay double the price, i need him alive no matter what.” taking the deepest breath you possibly could, you made sure he knew you were pissed about this “toss him on the table” while you slid on a pair of nitrile gloves, grabbing a metal tray for whatever you need. Shigaraki held down the dark haired man, while he groaned in pain. From the many years you’ve worked with Tomura, he’s never showed this much value towards a person, you couldn’t imagine how valuable the guy is to him. “what happened to him?” “shot.”

deciding you should sedate the big guy, you grabbed a sedative from the bar fridge, grabbing a needle, flicking the bottle twice and transferring the drug. You made your way to him, “hold him down, i need him to calm down before i do anything else” Shigaraki nodded as held onto the man’s legs, you noticed he was covered in scars, adorned by piercings, dazed due to the amount of blood he’d already lost, looking at you through half shut eyes.

tending to his wound, you worked through layers of ripped and wounded skin, “just one bullet?” “yeah” “he’s lucky it’s only one” removing the gloves, you tossed them into the trash, not bothering to check if they actually made into the trash or flipped onto the floor. “i need him to be supervised at all times, he’s strictly on bed rest for the next 24 hours at least” Shigaraki looked at you in disbelief “you’re on thin ice with me shiggy” sighing as you decided to let him rest in your house til he was finally okay to move, Shigaraki left you alone with the absolute stranger, you don’t even know his name, how should you trust him? Kurogiri never mentioned him before, you had no idea the league was expanding. You decided to let the man rest comfortably in your bed, your quirk allowing you to be able to sustain his heavy weight ontop of your shoulders. You placed him carefully on top of your sheets, leaving him to rest while you scrubbed your bloody floor and the steel table.

two bottles of bleach and endless squirts of dish soap later, it looked like the mess never happened. You collapsed onto your couch, eyes drooping as tiredness washed over your face, the muscles in your body relaxed as you lulled into a deep sleep.

“where the fuck am i?” your eyes fluttered open, as you scanned the figure towering over you, noticing a blue flame exerting from his palm,“calm down hotcakes, i saved your life” you chuckled as the flame died “who are you?” “well aren’t you talkative, you should really sit down i don’t recommend moving considering the damage your body endured” stretching your body, deciding to finally get up, just before you could, he held you down, the flame in his palm igniting once again. “who are you.” you shrugged, “i suggest you put your flames away, it doesn’t make you any more of a man, and by hurting me, you disadvantage the league” he watched you carefully, narrowing his eyes as you grabbed a cig from your pocket and lit the end with the flame exerting from his palm “quite a mouth, huh” he chuckled as he grabbed the cig from you and took a drag “you really shouldn’t be smoking” you watched as he titled his head back, smoke leaving his lips.

“(y/n)”

“what?”

“my name.”

“dabi”

dabi would stop by every week with minor injuries, it confused you deeply, small wounds that he could stitch up himself or with the help of an acquaintance but he refused to. eventually you’d wait for him almost everyday, waiting for the rhythmic rap of his knuckles agaisnt your door to let him in, today was one of those days, you watched him walk into the room, clutching his bleeding arm. “i’m starting to think you have a little crush on me dabi” “don’t flatter yourself dollface, i’m just terrible at this stuff” you pouted mockingly “aw, i bet Kurogiri could stitch you up pretty good, don’t ya think?” he chuckled as you cleaned his wound attentively and carefully, “i like it better when you do it” “i know you do, there’s no other explanation as to why you show up at my door at 2 in the morning to stitch up your wounds when you could just ask one of shiggys bandits”

“go on a date with me”

[faithisyours]

Basement Hangout

Vi X Fem!Reader

Chapter 4 of The List

Previous chapters can be found here

Summary: you (along with your mutual friends) surprise Vi with a basement hangout. Shenanigans ensue.

cw: timebomb, melvika, and jayvik included, Caitlyn is also here, Claggor and Mylo mentioned, some other supporting cast appearances, light smut, fingering, some dirty talk, alcohol consumption, smut while slightly intoxicated, Vi’s more dominant in this one, kinda choking but not really, some fluff, I think that’s it.

Word count: 3.3k

an: Hello little gay people in my phone! I give you chapter 4, hope you enjoy it, this one fought me the entire way. Sorry for such a long wait, I just got back to college, which will probably continue to alter the pace at which I post these, but I do plan on continuing to post, although my pace may slow. I’m also predicting a couple caitvi fics in my future, so be on the lookout for those. If you want to see anything specific in this fic, or be added to the tag list, let me know! And as always, men and minors dni.

“M’ so fucking cold, is he incapable of answering his door in a timely manner?” Vi huffed. You and your girlfriend stood waiting outside on the steps of Ekko’s house. It was now full blown winter, and was, in fact, actively snowing as you stood there.

It had been over a month since you and Vi made that blanket fort in the living room of your shared apartment, the last thing you had done off the list. Between work, holidays, and overall life in general, you both hadn’t gotten to cross any more things off it, but on the bright side, Vi had finally shared the list in its entirety with you. And it was long. A lot of the things were season specific, such as camping, but many were not, like the one you were surprising Vi with tonight.

“I don't understand why we couldn't have just picked this stuff up tomorrow. We’re freezing our asses off for nothing,” Vi continued with her complaining.

“Ekko asked nicely, so we’ll just get this over with and then we can go home, alright?” you soothed. Of course, this was all a ruse to get Vi over here, and hopefully she would feel differently when the surprise was revealed. When you had read over the list, the idea of a “basement hangout” had burrowed its way into your head and would not leave. So, you decided to band all your friends together to help surprise Vi. Ekko had been the one to offer his place as the setting, considering he was the only one with a finished basement. The trickiest part was getting Vi over here without having her get suspicious. You had Ekko call you while you were in front of Vi to ask if the two of you could come over to pick some things up left over from the holiday party he had. Vi was not happy about it, but she’d do basically anything for a lifelong friend, so here you stood. And, safe to say, Vi was too cold to be suspicious, if she ever was to begin with.

At that moment, you heard the sound of a lock sliding back, and then the door swung open, revealing Ekko, who was dressed in black sweatpants and a dark olive-green sweatshirt.

“Come in, come in.” Ekko ushered you both inside. Vi hurriedly marched indoors first, giving Ekko a somewhat pointed look when passing him. “It’s just down in the basement, I’ll show you where.”

He shot you a wink while Vi wasn’t looking, then led you both down the stairs to the basement. It was warm down there, string lights hung against the walls and wrapped around the exposed beams on the ceiling, but other than that, it was completely dark.

“It’s just over here…” Ekko said, pointing vaguely around the bend of the stairs. He turned on a floor lamp, drenching the room in light, and simultaneously people jumped out from behind the couch, from the closet, from around the corner, and yelled “Surprise!” Vi turned to you, a shocked look on her face. You just gave her a smile, shoving her shoulder lightly with yours.

“Surprise,” you said, grinning at her and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“But it’s not my birthday,” Vi countered incredulously, like that was the only time surprising her was acceptable.

“I know. This is from the list, a ‘basement hangout’ if I remember correctly,” you said. She hummed in response, then, abruptly, gave you a rather salacious kiss that caught you off guard and had your friends either groaning out ew’s or whistling low. You pulled away breathless, a blush creeping up your cheeks, and Vi gave you the cheekiest grin of all time.

After recovering from that, you turned your attention to your friends, who were already getting the party started by pouring drinks and playing music through the surround-sound speakers. And it really was appropriate to say party, considering how many of your mutual friends had shown up. There was Ekko, of course, and Jinx, as well as Caitlyn, Viktor, Jayce, Mel, Sevika, Lest, Maddie, Claggor, Mylo, Scar, and Steb. Maybe you had overdone it with the invitations, and it no longer resembled a chill hangout with friends, but everyone seemed to be having a good time, so you supposed it didn’t really matter.

You and Vi, stripped of your coats, took your time saying hello to everyone, but only after you got drinks in your hands. You got a malibu cranberry, while Vi got a vodka redbull. Settling down on one of the couches, Vi wrapped her arm around you and leaned back. It was almost comical the way your position mirrored the other couples in attendance: Mel and Sevika were sitting on the adjacent couch, Mel basically in Sev’s lap, while Jayce and Viktor were occupying an armchair, Jayce in the chair while Viktor propped himself on the arm. And then there was Ekko and Jinx, who were sitting on the same couch as you and Vi, but where Ekko sat normally, Jinx sat perched on the back of the couch behind him. Your uncoupled friends dotted the rest of the room, either sitting or standing in semi-circles talking with one another.

“Beer pong, anyone?” Jayce asked, pointing to the empty table near the hallway.

“I’ll play,” Viktor answered.

“So will I,” Jinx volunteered.

“Either of you want to play?” Viktor asked when no one else said anything, pointing towards you and Vi.

“I’ll just watch this first round,” you said, giving Viktor a smile.

“And I’m gonna stay with my girl a while longer,” Vi answered, subconsciously pulling you closer to her. You blushed slightly, always going a little red when Vi called you her girl. It didn’t matter that you had been together for years, you were still going to blush. But what you were also going to do was blame it on the alcohol.

“Alright, I’ll play,” Ekko said, shooting you both an exasperated look.

The two couples rose from their seats and made their way towards the table. Jayce and Ekko occupied one end, while Jinx and Viktor stood at the other. And soon enough, ping pong balls began bouncing back and forth. The table was at a good angle and distance away to where you could watch them play and still contribute to the conversation, but could also tune it out or have a separate conversation with Vi and the others sitting down around you.

You sipped on your drink, already half downed, and did your best to pay attention to your friends playing, but your girlfriend was making it increasingly difficult to focus. The hand that was not holding her drink was around your waist, drawing lazy patterns there and working together with the alcohol to heat your skin. You fidgeted, squirming slightly in Vi’s grip, which only made her grasp on you tighter.

“So I heard about this list…” Mel said, pulling your attention away from the beer pong and towards where she and Sev sat on the couch next to yours. “What is it exactly?”

“Oh, well, um…” you tried to find a decent explanation without having to explain the ‘why’ part of it, but Vi beat you to it.

“It’s a list of things we both have never done and want to do,” she said simply.

“So, like a bucket list?” Sevika interjected.

“Kinda, but more to the tune of stupid teenager shit,” you said.

“I see, alright, that makes sense. Maybe we should start one, huh Sev?” Mel said, nudging her partner.

“Anything you want, my love,” Sevika replied, smiling at her girlfriend. Mel just shook her head, amused at Sev’s response, a smile curving her mouth.

“That makes sense, considering what we're doing. Very teenager-esque, I must say. But I feel like something’s missing, like we need to be playing spin-the-bottle or explicit truth or dare,” Mel said.

“Ekko has drunk jenga,” you said, pointing to a pile of games stacked high in the corner.

“That's perfect. Alright, who wants to play drunk jenga?” Mel asked the room, and a chorus of ‘I will’s followed. So while Mel and Sevika grabbed the game and began setting it up, you went to grab yourself another drink, Vi following behind you.

“Do you want another one, babe?” you ask Vi, who was in the process of snaking her hands around your front to hug you from behind.

“I’m alright, thank you though,” she said from just over your shoulder. So you fixed your drink, a Dirty Shirley this time, all while having a rather clingy Vi attached to your back, then joined your friends.

While Jinx, Ekko, Jayce, and Viktor played beer pong, you, Vi, Mel, Sev, Lest, Scar, Maddie, Caitlyn, and Setb (in that order) huddled around the coffee table to play drunk jenga. Since it was Mel and Sev’s idea, they went first. Mel pulled one from right in the middle, sliding it out and reading it aloud.

“Take a shot with the person to your right,” she said, then looked towards Sevika, who was already getting up to go get shot glasses and vodka. Sev came back, poured the shots, cheered with Mel and downed it, barely making a face at its taste. Mel, on the other hand, made a twisted face at the taste. And since they had pulled a block semi-together, it was now Lest’s turn. She pulled one from the edge close to the bottom, its removal slightly more difficult than the block Mel pulled, then read it aloud.

“Kiss the person to your right,” she said, and a small blush appeared on her cheeks. She turned to her right to face Scar, Ekko’s long-time friend, who looked a little shocked and flushed, but played it off well. Hesitantly they kissed, a quick and gentle peck, but it was cute enough to bring a smile to your face.

It went on like that, your friends pulling blockers that made the structure more precarious each turn, reading them aloud and quickly getting more intoxicated. And then it was your turn. You surveyed the tower, looking for a block to pull that wouldn’t tip the entire structure over, and went with the bottom middle block. As you poked and prodded, the tower shifted, but you were able to pull the block free without losing the game.

“Seven minutes in heaven,” you read out, and as soon as the words left your lips, Vi, with a wicked grin on her face, was pulling you away and down the hall. She stopped at the hall closet, flung the door open, then pushed you inside, closing the door behind her.

The slats in the door allowed enough light in for you to get the gist of shapes, but it was still pretty dark. Your heart was pounding, probably due to the combination of alcohol and adrenaline in your blood. Vi had hauled you off rather quickly, you barely had time to set your almost empty cup down, and now you were standing very close to your girlfriend in a very confined space. Good thing you weren't claustrophobic.

“I haven't been in one of these in years,” you joked, looking around the small space and attempting to diffuse the growing tension. Vi had been exceptionally touchy this evening, and being in a confined space alone with her was only making you more soaked.

“I think we should play a game,” Vi whispered, leaning in close.

“Besides seven minutes in heaven?” you asked.

“I think we should play the game where whoever makes the other come first wins.” Vi leaned back slightly, surveying your face with a small grin on hers. She knew you were two drinks down, and even though you weren't completely drunk yet, you were still pretty tipsy. Her surveying you was your chance to say no. But you didn’t want to. That grin on her face let you know she knew you were tipsy, and because of that would be at a disadvantage when it came to the game. And you wanted nothing more than to prove her wrong.

Instead of answering her with words, you launched yourself at her, pulling her into a hard and frantic kiss. You threw your arms around her neck, pressing your body against hers, and tangled one of your hands in her hair, pulling slightly at the strands. Vi moaned low, and the sound went straight to your clit. You pulled back from the kiss only to have your hands shoot straight to the front of her pants, working the button loose. Vi, catching on, did the same to your pants. Soon enough you were dragging your hand through her happy trail and into her boxers, her hand not far behind in yours.

Vi’s fingers pushed into you, only to find you completely soaked. “All this already? If you were so needy you could have just said something,” she taunted.

“Shut up,” you retorted, but there was no bite behind the words. While she dragged her fingers through your folds, spreading your slick and lazily circling your clit, you pushed two fingers into her and slowly ground the palm of your hand against her clit. Her walls clenched around the intrusion, but the new wave of slick, along with her surprised moan, let you know you were welcome.

Both of you seemed to have differing strategies: where Vi was more lazy and teasing with her movements, you were precise and strategic. Or at least you were trying to be. As soon as Vi sunk two fingers into you and started curling them, your movements faltered. You tried to keep up, tried to play it off by stifling your moans and rubbing her clit harder, and while, yes, Vi was moaning and whimpering slightly, your ministrations were nothing compared to hers. She knew your body like the back of her hand, knew all the right buttons to press, when to press them, and how to make you fall apart in her hands.

“What's the matter, babe? Can’t keep up?” she taunted. You kissed her to shut her up, but also to hopefully regain some control. You knew she loved when you were loud, and you knew she loved when you played with her tits. So you did both. You moaned, excessively, into the kiss, syncing it up with her thrusts, and worked your free hand inside her shirt and under her bra. You grazed your fingers over her nipple, which elicited a gasp from her, breaking the kiss for only a second before she pulled you back into it. You knew she knew what you were doing, so you tried to be as unpredictable as possible. You pinched her nipple, which earned you a guttural moan, the sound making you smile against the kiss. Now you are in control.

But it didn’t last long. Vi broke the kiss and instead pressed her forehead against yours, her heavy breathing mixing with yours. And then the next thing you knew there was a hand on your throat and you were being pushed back against the wall, her fingers still circling tightly around your clit. Your back hit the wall, and you wanted to complain that this position wasn’t fair, but then Vi started kissing you again, and the hand on your throat was squeezing just so, and her fingers were working you closer and closer to the edge. You were dizzy, hazy from the alcohol, breathless, still kissing her, and you tried your hardest to keep up, circling her clit and adding a third finger, but it was a lost cause. You were losing your footing, your hand was stopping and starting, your jerky movements doing little to bring Vi much pleasure.

You pulled away from the kiss, panting, and rested your forehead on Vi’s shoulder. You just needed to focus.

“Not very good at this game, are you?” she whispered into your ear, her voice dripping with mock-condicention. You tried to speak, tried to come up with a retort, but all you could manage was a weak moan. “Why don’t you come for me, baby. It’s okay, you can do it,” she said, her breath ghosting your ear. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, she was kissing your neck, your jaw, that spot behind your ear that always made you squirm, and it was your undoing.

You came with a strangled cry of her name, wave after wave of pleasure crashing into you as Vi kept up her movements, and you would have collapsed if it hadn’t been for Vi snaking the hand that was previously on your throat around your back to keep you upright. She soothed and cooed at you, bringing you slowly but surely back to reality.

Foreheads pressed together and hands still in each other's pants, there was a small nock on the closet door. “What?” Vi said, while her breath still mingled with your.

“Um, I’m supposed to tell you that the seven minutes is up,” you heard Jayce say from beyond the door.

“Got it,” Vi responded, and you couldn't help but laugh, Vi joining you in your giggles. You removed your hand, Vi mirroring your movements, and when Vi slipped her come-covered fingers into her mouth to clean them off, you did the same.

“I may have lost,” you said, “but did I really lose?” You gave Vi a cocky look as you buttoned your pants.

She hummed. “I guess we both won, in different ways.” You gave her another quick kiss before readjusting your clothes and smoothing your hair, making sure everything was as it should be. Vi did the same, and soon enough you were opening the closet door and stepping out to join the party once more.

As you made your way back, hand-in-hand with Vi, a handful of your friends gave you knowing looks, and some of them even whistled, but most didn’t react. You knew you should have tried to be quiet, and you had for the most part, but you had assumed the distance plus the music would have drowned out most of the moaning. Maybe you had miscalculated. But it didn’t matter now.

You and Vi rejoined the party, chatted with friends and played a couple more games, but stuck to water for the rest of your time there. And after a couple more hours, you were yawning, curled up against Vi, about ready to fall asleep. Vi had been talking with Ekko, a conversation you were too tired to follow, but noticed your yawning and decided it was time to go.

She got you into your coat, pulling your hat onto your head and zipping you up, then put her own on. She thanked Ekko profusely, as well as your remaining friends, which you also did, albeit more groggily, then guided you up the stairs and out the door towards the car. It had stopped snowing, and the car didn’t need much scraping off before it was able to be driven. Vi guided you into the passenger seat, making sure your seat belt was clicked in before closing your door and making her way around to settle into the driver's seat.

“Thank you for tonight, it was wonderful,” she said. Though you were on the verge of falling asleep, you heard her through the haze.

“You’re welcome, baby. Anything for you,” you mumbled, then proceeded to fall asleep.

Tag list: @usuck @saqqarasdissent