#someone stage an intervention for those two

[ruewrote]

ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤.

PAIRING: evan buckley x fem!reader WARNINGS: the end of s6 e10, no use of y/n GENRE: fluff to angst to fluff, friends to lovers SONG INSPIRATION: close by nick jonas, tove lo WORD COUNT: 5.4k

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working out with buck had been your idea. you’d been needing a workout buddy for weeks, and when the team’s golden retriever of a firefighter overheard you mumbling about it to yourself, he all but begged to join.

“you kidding me?” he’d said, practically bouncing on his heels. his blue eyes lit up. “i’ve been dying for someone to spot me! eddie’s great and all, but he always wants to do leg day. you can’t skip chest, y’know?”

you couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm, rolling your eyes in fond amusement. “fine,” you’d said, shrugging. “but don’t complain when i make you do cardio.”

he’d placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “cardio? brutal. i’m in.”

truthfully, you weren’t about to turn him down. buck’s infectious energy was always a mood booster, and the idea of having some company – especially someone as good natured as buck, made the thought of dragging yourself to the gym a little more bearable. 

what you hadn’t expected, though, was just how much of a scene your new workout buddy would cause once you actually got there.

from the moment you walked in, it was clear buck had a way of drawing attention. it wasn’t just his size, though, at a towering 6’2 with broad shoulders and a physique that screamed firefighter, he was hard to miss. 

it was the way he carried himself: confident, animated, and completely unaware of how many people were stealing glances his way.

“alright, partner,” he said, clapping his hands together with a grin as he surveyed the gym floor. 

“what’s the game plan?”

before you could respond, he leaned closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “wait…please tell me you’re not one of those people who only does the treadmill and leaves.”

your eyebrows shot up. “and what if i am?”

buck gasped, scandalized. “then i’d have to stage an intervention. you’re not just here to take instagram selfies, right?”

“relax, buck,” you said, laughing. “i actually want to work out. and for the record, i don’t even have instagram.”

“good,” he said, relieved. “because i have a strict no posers policy,” he laughs.

the first hour was typical enough. you’d both started on treadmills to warm up, buck kept pace with you, occasionally shooting you goofy grins or nudging your arm to try and playfully throw you off.

but when it came time to hit the weights, the playful banter took a backseat to something else entirely.

“alright,” buck said, clapping his hands together as the two of you moved to the weight machines. “what’s the plan? you wanna start light and work your way up?”

you gave him a look, a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “not exactly.”

he blinked, his curiosity piqued, as you walked past the smaller dumbbells and headed straight for the leg press machine. without hesitation, you loaded it up with plates, a lot of plates.

buck’s eyebrows shot up. “uh…” he hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “you sure about that? that’s, like, 280 pounds.”

“yeah,” you said casually, adjusting the seat as if it was no big deal.

he stepped closer, his concern evident. “i mean, not to doubt you or anything, but… that’s a lot of weight. you sure you don’t wanna, i dunno, warm up with something lighter?”

you shot him a grin, sliding into position. “relax, buck. i’ve got this.”

he opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat as you pushed against the plate, lifting the weight with almost laughable ease.

his jaw dropped.

“holy–”

you completed the first few reps with smooth, controlled movements, your legs steady as you pressed the weight up and lowered it back down like it was nothing. by the time you finished the set, buck’s jaw was practically on the floor.

you sat up, brushing a bead of sweat from your brow and giving him an amused glance. “what?”

buck shook his head, a laugh bubbling out of him as he stared at the loaded machine. “i don’t even know what to say right now.”

“say i’m strong and move on,” you said, smirking as you got up to grab a towel.

“oh, you’re strong, alright,” he said, still staring at the weights like they might be made of styrofoam. “you’re, like, scary strong.”

you rolled your eyes, brushing off the compliment as you moved toward the next machine. “it’s not that impressive.”

“not that impressive?” buck repeated, practically tripping over himself to follow you. “are you kidding me? you just lifted more weight than half the guys i know! heck, i’m not even sure i can do that.”

you shrugged, unconcerned. “it’s not a competition, buck.”

“no, but seriously, how did you– what’s your secret? is it, like, spinach? protein shakes? did you sell your soul for quads of steel?”

you snorted, shaking your head. “hard work, buck. and maybe a little bit of magic spinach.”

he laughed, still looking at you with something bordering on awe. “okay, but now i’m scared to spar with you. what if you accidentally throw me across the room or something?”

“don’t tempt me,” you teased, grabbing a set of dumbbells for your next exercise.

but buck wasn’t letting it go. he lingered by your side, peppering you with questions about your routine, your strength, and how you managed to make 280 pounds look like a warm up as you both did your shoulder press sets.

“do you ever, like, wrestle people for fun?” he asked, eyes wide with curiosity. “because i think you could clean out a bar with those legs.”

“i don’t usually make a habit of that,” you said, amused by his relentless fascination.

“well, you should. you’d make bank,” he said, completely serious.

you chuckled, shaking your head as you put down your equipment. you moved to another machine. “buck, are you going to work out, or are you just here to watch me?”

“oh, i’m working out,” he said, grabbing a pair of weights. “but i’m also taking mental notes. i mean, i thought i was strong, but now? i’ve got to try not to be lifted by you in every single exercise.”

“good luck with that,” you said, smirking.

buck’s grin widened, his competitive streak lighting up in his eyes. “oh, it’s on.”

as the workout continued, buck kept finding new things to be impressed by.

when you did pull ups, he counted under his breath, his awe growing with each rep. “you’re gonna make me look bad,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“then keep up,” you teased, dropping down effortlessly.

when you moved back over to free weights, buck watched as you lifted with perfect form, the muscles in your arms flexing with every movement.

“i think i just found my new hero,” he said, only half-joking.

“buck,” you said, laughing. “stop staring and do your set.”

“i can’t help it,” he admitted, grinning. “you’re like… the woman version of captain america.”

you rolled your eyes, your cheeks warming despite yourself. “you’re ridiculous.”

over the weeks, going to the gym with evan had become a comforting routine. he always made your favorite protein shakes, bringing it in the reusable cup you’d picked out together on a shopping trip. 

there was a soothing familiarity to the cycle you’d both fallen into: wake up early, eat, meet evan, work out, eat again, then head to work.

it was exhausting, sure, but it also made you feel more alive and motivated than you had in ages.

as much as you enjoyed it, though, it was becoming a bit of a problem. you felt an ache of disappointment on the days evan couldn’t make it or when he brought someone else to the gym on days you were too sick to go. 

there was a twinge of something deeper, an unease in your stomach, whenever you weren’t around him.

you couldn’t stop yourself from sneaking glances at him between sets. watching him lift massive weights with ease, his face barely showing the strain, made your cheeks heat up. flustered, you quickly turned away, taking a sip of water to hide the smile threatening to betray your feelings.

the more time you spent with evan, the harder it became to ignore how much you enjoyed his company – how much you looked forward to your time together. it was in the way when he’d adjust the equipment for you, his knowing smirks when he caught you stealing glances at him, and the way he made the gym feel more like a hangout than a chore.

that morning, as you finished a set on the leg press, you caught evan watching you, his gaze lingering just a second longer than usual. he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“not bad,” he said. “looks like someone’s been paying attention.”

you shrugged, pretending to be unfazed. “someone had to. i can’t exactly count on you for tips.”

his grin widened as he pushed off the wall, walking toward you. “oh, is that right? maybe i should stop correcting your form then.”

“maybe you should,” you quipped, grabbing your water bottle. “but we both know you can’t help yourself.”

he laughed, low and warm. “you’re lucky i like you.”

you tilted your head, smirking. “oh, you like me? i thought this whole thing was me doing you a favor.”

he stepped closer, close enough that you had to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “is that what you think?” he asked, his voice dropping slightly. “because from where i’m standing, it looks like you’re the one who keeps showing up to see me.”

you rolled your eyes, even as your pulse quickened. “don’t flatter yourself, buckley. i’m here for the gains.”

“sure you are.” he leaned in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of his cologne. “and the protein shakes, right?”

you shrugged, letting a sly smile cross your lips. “well, the shakes are pretty good. i might keep you around for those.”

he laughed, shaking his head as you brushed past him toward the mats. “unbelievable.”

the rest of the session passed with the same energy. quick-witted remarks, lingering looks, and more than a little playful tension. when you finished stretching, evan handed you your protein shake, his smirk firmly in place.

“taste test,” he said, nodding toward the cup. “admit it. i’m the best gym partner you’ve ever had.”

you took a sip, deliberately slow, meeting his gaze with a smirk of your own. “mmm… you’re definitely in my top three.”

his jaw dropped in mock offense. “top three? that’s all i get?”

you shrugged, walking toward the door. “guess you’ll have to work harder if you want to move up.”

he followed after you, his chuckle soft but full of amusement. “oh, i will. don’t worry.”

as you stepped into the cool morning air, the playful grin you exchanged with him lingered. it wasn’t just the workouts keeping you coming back, and you were pretty sure he knew it too.

you should have said something before you left the station.

the bad feeling in your gut had been sitting there all morning, clawing at your nerves with every glance toward buck. he’d been his usual self. bright, charming self. in the way only evan buckley could be, but something about today felt incredibly off. 

you didn’t know what it meant but you knew it wasn’t anything to do with his usual antics that made you uneasy.

as soon as the alarm sounded, buck had been all business, as if the bad feeling had somehow missed him completely. but it had latched onto you, sinking its sharp claws deeper with every second.

"hey," he had said just before you all climbed into the engine. "you’ve been staring at me all morning. something on your mind, or do i look extra good today?" his grin was wide, teasing, just like always.

you rolled your eyes, the usual banter offering no comfort this time. "just… don’t do anything stupid, buck."

he smirked as he slung his helmet on, the motion so casual it could have been an instinct at this point. "define stupid," he teased back, his voice light as he climbed into the engine.

you watched him for a second, a twinge of frustration running through you. he wasn’t taking you seriously. but the bad feeling, the nagging sense that something was off, wouldn’t leave.

you knew you weren’t being paranoid.

"buck," you called, stopping him by holding onto his arm just as he was about to get into the engine, his back turned to you. "i'm serious. you’ve been a little more reckless lately, and i don’t want to see you get hurt. you need to be careful."

his expression softened slightly, but there was a flicker of that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. "hey, you worry too much," he said with a chuckle. "i’ve got this."

you exhaled sharply, watching him climb in and settle into his seat. you should have insisted more. should have made him listen. but instead, you let it slide, trying to push aside the bad feeling in your gut.

still, that nagging feeling wouldn’t go away.

the entire drive to the scene, you couldn’t shake it. you kept glancing at buck out of the corner of your eye, but every time he caught you staring, he’d throw you a grin or wink, as if everything was just fine, as if nothing was wrong. he didn’t see it.

you tried to focus on the task at hand, tried to prepare yourself for whatever was waiting for you once you arrived. but that feeling, that certainty in your gut that something was about to go wrong, kept escalating. 

the scene before you was pure chaos. flames licking hungrily at the night sky, smoke billowing in plumes from the high rise apartment building. the rain was relentless, drenching everything, adding a cruel, ironic touch to the flames. you worked quickly, herding evacuees to a safe distance, your voice steady despite the frantic pounding of your heart.

through it all, your eyes kept flickering to buck. he was ‘arguing’ with chimney, both gesturing toward the ladder propped up next to the burning building. you didn’t need to hear them to know what it was about; the decision of who would ascend into danger.

buck won. chimney relented, clapping him on the shoulder before stepping back. you watched buck as he adjusted his gear and started up the ladder.

your hands itched to pull him back, to ground him. but this was the job.

“be careful,” you murmured under your breath, as if the wind might carry your words to him.

he was now fully up the ladder, chimney and eddie stood close by, ready to assist

the hose spraying water over the flames as he leaned into his harness. the muscles in his arms flexed against the pull of the stream, his movements steady despite the slippery ladder and the brutal weather.

you stayed rooted on the spot, keeping a watchful eye on him. every instinct in your body screamed at you to make sure he was okay. he was professional, you knew that, you'd seen it time after time again but also knew that he was always pushing himself, always risking too much.

he adjusted his grip on the hose, pausing for a moment to glance around. his head tilted slightly, scanning the sky above.

that’s when it happened.

a blinding flash of light. searing, far too close. the bolt of lightning struck with a deafening crack, so near it sent a shockwave through the ground. you stumbled back, shielding your face against the glare. when your vision cleared, the madness continued.

eddie was on the ground, sprawled beside the truck, stunned but moving. your eyes darted to the ladder, searching frantically for buck.

your breath hitched.

he was dangling. his body hung limply from the harness. your heart dropped into your stomach, your voice breaking as you screamed his name.

“buck!”

hen was suddenly beside you, her hand firm on your arm. “i’ve got this,” she said quickly, taking your place as you stumbled toward the ladder.

everything around you blurred except for him. your heart racing as you saw chimney and eddie already scaling it, their movements urgent. your heart pounded in your ears. 

buck was still swaying in the harness.

chimney reached him first, working quickly to detach the harness, easing him on a stretcher.  the seconds felt like hours as they maneuvered to bring him down, each movement too slow for your frantic mind.

they pulled his helmet off, revealing a face that was far too pale. he wasn’t moving. he wasn’t breathing.

“oh my god.” the words left your lips in a whisper at first, then louder, more frantic. “oh my god, he’s not breathing!”

your knees buckled, and eddie caught you, his arms steady around your shaking frame. “they’ve got him,” he said, his voice tight but comforting. yet his eyes betrayed him, he was just as terrified as you were.

chimney was already working, barking orders, his hands moving with practiced precision. but all you could do was stare, tears streaming down your face as you clung to eddie.

“come on, buck,” you pleaded, your voice cracking. “please.”

time stretched endlessly, each second a cruel twist of the knife. eddie’s arms tightened around you, grounding you as you sobbed into his shoulder, unable to tear your eyes away from the still figure on the stretcher.

and then, mercifully, chimney shouted, “i’ve got a pulse!”

relief washed over you, a sensation you hadn’t realised how desperately you needed until it finally hit. the moment buck’s chest rose and fell, a steady rhythm of life, you felt a flicker of hope ignite in your chest.

you were the first to jump into the ambulance after they loaded him in, not even thinking, you just knew that you needed to be with him, to stay close. you sat beside him, as the paramedics worked, hands moving swiftly.

your eyes stayed glued to buck, to the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. the fog of his exhale against the oxygen mask was the smallest of assurances, but it was enough. enough to make you believe that, against all odds, he was still here with you.

your fingers curled into the seat beneath you, holding on to that fragile hope. his pulse was steady now, mingling with the low hum of the ambulance. for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to breathe again, knowing that somehow, miraculously, he was still with you.

later that night, the others came by to visit buck after their shifts ended.

first, it was hen. she walked into the room, her face drawn with concern, her eyes immediately seeking you out. when she saw you still sitting in your uniform, not having moved from buck’s side, her expression softened. she took a slow breath, then crossed the room to stand beside you.

“hey,” hen said quietly, her voice gentle as she took in the sight of you, your exhaustion evident. she noticed how you were clinging to the quiet hope that buck would wake up any moment. she placed a hand on the back of the chair you were sitting in, her touch light but grounding.

“i know there’s nothing i can really say to fix this, but just know you’re not alone, alright?”

you gave her a small, tired smile, grateful for her presence. “i know,” you whispered, nodding toward buck. “i just… i need to be here. he’ll wake up soon, hen. he has to.”

she didn’t push you to talk more, knowing there were no words that could change what had happened. she simply stood there, her presence a quiet comfort. she squeezed your shoulder lightly before stepping back toward the door. “i’m one phone call away if you need me.”

you nodded again, and hen gave you one last look. one filled with unspoken support, before she left the room, leaving you alone with buck, the steady beeping of machines and the soft rustle of sheets the only sounds filling the silence.

next came bobby. his steps were slow, almost hesitant, as he approached. he paused for a moment by the door, taking in the sight of you sitting by buck’s side, clearly worn out but unwilling to leave. he stepped closer, his hand briefly resting on your shoulder in a silent show of support.

“how’s he doing?” bobby asked, his voice low but laced with concern.

you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you gave him the same explanation you’d given hen. “he’s stable. the doctors said it’s just the aftereffects of the lightning strike. he’s in a coma, but they’re monitoring him closely.” your voice wavered slightly, but you pushed through, not wanting to show how deeply it was affecting you.

bobby nodded, absorbing the information. he didn’t ask for more details. his gaze lingered on buck for a moment, his brow furrowing with worry before he looked back at you.

“i know that he appreciates you being here with him.”

you offered him a tight smile, appreciating the sentiment even if it didn’t quite ease the weight in your chest.

bobby gave you one last, understanding glance before he turned and made his way to the door. 

he left quietly, leaving you alone once more with buck, the room feeling a little emptier than before but still filled with that quiet hope that he’d wake up soon.

it wasn't long until eddie got there. he stood at the doorway for a moment, looking at you with that familiar, quiet worry in his eyes. his gaze flickered to buck before he approached. “how are you holding up?” he asked softly.

you nodded, though the exhaustion was starting to hit you. “i’m fine. i just... i need to be here. he’ll wake up soon. the doctors are optimistic.”

eddie gave a short, strained smile, but his eyes didn’t quite match the gesture. “you’re doing everything you can.” he patted your shoulder and lingered for a moment, then left without another word, his presence offering you the slightest bit of comfort.

after eddie, chimney and maddie came by together, both looking drained from their shifts. they paused when they saw you still sitting there, but you shook your head, silently telling them you were okay.

you reiterated what you had said to the others.

chimney gave you a concerned glance, but maddie was the first to pull you into a hug. her arms wrapped around you, offering a quiet but comforting presence. you let yourself lean into the embrace for a moment, grateful for the feeling of someone who understood what you were going through.

they stayed for a little while, with maddie talking softly to you, her voice calm and steady, offering small distractions. eventually, she gave chimney a look, and he gave a brief nod before heading out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

the room felt a little quieter, a little more intimate, and the weight of everything seemed to settle around you both. after a beat of silence, maddie let out a soft sigh and glanced over at buck, his unconscious form still hooked up to machines. “of course evan would be the one to go and get struck by lightning,” she said with a light laugh, the sound a bit shaky.

you couldn’t help but chuckle too, glancing at buck with a fond smile. the moment lingered for a while, but the laughter eventually faded, and the air grew heavier again.

maddie’s expression softened, her tone turning more serious. “he talks about you all the time, you know?”

your head snapped toward her, the surprise evident in your eyes. “he… he does?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

maddie gave a small, knowing smile and nodded. “a little too much, if i’m being honest. but don’t tell him i said that,” she added with a wink, as though sharing some kind of secret.

you felt your heart skip a beat at the thought, warmth spreading through you. the idea that buck, through everything, even in the midst of his chaotic life. talked about you with such frequency, it was almost too much to process. 

but somehow, it made the weight of the moment feel a little lighter, the hope growing that he’d wake up and that you’d get the chance to hear all of it from him, yourself.

you requested time off, and bobby didn’t hesitate to approve it. he knew, as well as you did, that there was no way you could focus on work, not when your heart and mind were stuck in that hospital room.

so you stayed. you spent your days at the hospital, barely leaving buck’s side. the rest of your life faded into the background. the gym, your job, even basic routines. all of it felt distant and unimportant compared to the need to be there for him.

every night, the nurses gently urged you to leave when visiting hours ended. you could tell they didn’t want to force you out; the sympathetic looks on their faces said as much. they were kind, patient, and understanding, but rules were rules.

each time you left, you were reluctant, your heart aching at the thought of being away in case he woke up. before you’d go, you always leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering a moment longer each time. you’d clasp his hand in both of yours, brushing your thumb gently across his limp fingers, whispering words of hope he couldn’t yet hear.

at home, everything felt heavier. eating and showering became a struggle, but you managed, if only because you needed to be somewhat put together for him when you returned. you’d collapse into bed, trying to drown out the fear and negativity with the faint hope that maybe, when you woke up, he would too.

a week passed like this, each day melting into the next as you clung to your new routine. 

on this particular evening, as visiting hours neared their end, you sat by buck’s side again. you clasped his hand, bringing it to your lips briefly before leaning over to place another on his forehead.

and then you felt it, a faint squeeze against your hand.

your breath caught in your throat as you froze, your heart racing. slowly, you pulled back and stared at his hand in yours, disbelief mixing with hope. “buck?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

your heart pounded as you stared at his hand, still clasped in yours. for a moment, you wondered if you had imagined it, if your mind was playing tricks on you after days of exhaustion. but then it happened again, a weak, deliberate squeeze.

“buck?” you whispered again, louder this time, leaning closer to him. tears welled in your eyes as you searched his face for any other signs of movement. his eyelids fluttered, just barely, but it was enough to send a wave of relief crashing over you.

“oh my god, buck, can you hear me?” your voice cracked, and your free hand reached out to gently brush against his cheek. his skin felt warmer than it had in days, and the faintest sound escaped his lips. a low, hoarse groan.

you pressed the call button frantically, your hand shaking as you leaned in closer, desperate to see more. “it’s me. i’m here,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “you’re okay, buck. you’re safe. just keep waking up for me, please.”

the door burst open as a nurse hurried in, quickly assessing the situation. “he’s waking up,” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of joy and panic.

the nurse nodded, immediately moving to check his vitals and calling for the doctor. you stepped back slightly to give them space, but you couldn’t take your eyes off buck. his fingers twitched in yours again, his head turning just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his face. his eyes opened slowly, unfocused but alive.

“hey, there you are,” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks as you smiled through the overwhelming emotions.

his gaze drifted to you, his brow furrowing slightly as if he was trying to make sense of where he was. his lips moved, dry and cracked, but no sound came out.

“it’s okay,” you said quickly, leaning closer again. “don’t try to talk. just rest. you’re in the hospital, but you’re safe now. i’m here, buck. i’ve been here the whole time.”

the doctor arrived shortly after, giving you a reassuring smile as they began to examine him. you reluctantly let go of his hand so they could work, stepping aside but never straying far from his side.

“his response is a very good sign,” the doctor said after a moment, turning to you. “we’ll keep monitoring him closely, but it looks like the worst is over.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding, your chest feeling lighter than it had in days. as soon as the doctor stepped back, you were at buck’s side again, taking his hand in yours.

“see? i told you you’d be okay,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. his lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile, and it was the most beautiful thing you’d seen in a while.

a couple of hours later, after the doctors had left and the atmosphere had settled, it was just you and buck in the quiet hospital room. the dim light from the bedside lamp cast a soft glow over him, highlighting the color slowly returning to his cheeks.

he shifted slightly, wincing, and you immediately reached for the cup of water on the tray beside his bed. “easy,” you murmured, slipping a straw into the cup and holding it up for him. “here, small sips.”

buck obediently took a sip, his eyes never leaving yours. his throat worked as he swallowed, and you felt a wave of relief seeing him manage something so simple. it was progress.

“you scared the hell out of me, you know,” you said softly, setting the cup down once he’d had enough. “you got struck by lightning, buck. lightning. do you even realise how lucky you are to be here right now?”

he blinked, his gaze turning thoughtful. “i remember… the storm,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. you immediately reached for the water again, bringing it to his lips before he could continue.

“here. drink more. don’t push yourself,” you said, your fussing in full force now. you fluffed his pillows, adjusted his blanket, and scanned the machines monitoring his vitals, as if you could will them to show even better numbers.

“you remember the storm?” you prompted, sitting back down beside him and holding his hand tightly.

buck nodded, his brow furrowing. “yeah. i was on the ladder… the flames were bad. i remember hosing them down, and then…” he paused, his eyes growing distant. “a loud crack. bright light. and then… nothing.”

your grip on his hand tightened, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check. “buck, you were out for a week. a week. they weren’t sure if you’d–” your voice cracked, and you quickly shook your head, brushing away a tear. “but you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

buck’s lips twitched into a small smile, his hand weakly squeezing yours. “you’ve been taking care of me, haven’t you?”

you scoffed lightly, brushing it off. “of course i have. someone has to make sure you don’t do anything stupid like this again.”

he chuckled softly, the sound weak but warm. “you don’t have to worry so much, you know. i’m okay.”

you froze, staring at him in disbelief. “don’t have to worry? buck, do you even realise what just happened to you? you almost died! you were in a coma! and now you’re telling me not to worry? you’ve got to be kidding me.”

as you ranted, your free hand gesturing animatedly, buck just lay there, watching you with an amused smile.

“what?” you snapped, though there was no real anger in your tone.

“nothing,” he said, his voice soft and laced with affection. “just… you’re cute when you’re like this.”

your face heated, and you rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched upward despite yourself. “you’re impossible, buck.”

“and yet, here you are,” he teased, his smile growing.

you shook your head, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. 

“yeah, looks like you're stuck with me, buckley.”

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© ruewrote 2024.

[stilinskiandthebanshee]

I’m OBSESSED with fratboy!nat! I need more injected straight into my veins stat. The voice, Natalie’s cockiness, the scene. Aaugjjbh

(Can I be 🦦 anon?)

For you ��. Your wish is my command. I wrote this all in one night. I fear this is getting away from me. They’ve grown lives of their own.

a/n: this is a continuation of this fic but I think it could stand on its own.

wc: 6.7k (I told you it got out of hand)

Warnings: NSFW! 18+

Semi-public sex, underage drinking, Lottie x reader and Lottienat x reader if you squintttttttt really hard.

Fratboy!Natalie who disappeared off the face of the earth after your… encounter. She hadn’t shown up to a single class in two weeks. Not that you’d been counting. Not like she had haunted every dream you’d had since that night.

Nope. You didn’t care at all.

You especially didn’t care when you got back to your dorm the next morning, hickeys littering your throat like a trail of evidence, and Jackie and Lottie had cornered you the second your foot crossed the threshold.

Apparently, word traveled fast when little Miss Principal’s Scholar and the biggest fuckboy on campus suddenly made nice at a party.

You spent the better part of an hour enduring Jackie’s rant about girls like Natalie (with occasional side-eyes and apologies to Lottie), and how you “should’ve known better.” Eventually, you pacified her with a tight-lipped claim that all you did was smoke a little weed and kiss.

The lie tasted thin even as you said it, but it seemed to satiate her—for now.

Lottie lingered once Jackie stormed off to class, still muttering under her breath about “frat rats.” She reached out gently, catching your elbow before you could bolt to your room and die of embarrassment.

“Look, I’m not Jackie. I’m not gonna lecture you. Just… be careful, okay? Nat is… Nat,” Lottie said, voice softer, steadier. There was something about the way she said it—like someone who knew exactly what she was talking about. Someone who’d lived it.

“Lot, seriously. There’s nothing going on,” you said quickly, too quickly. Defensive. Which was dumb—because it was the truth. Mostly. You’d only done what any girl your age would’ve done in the face of someone like Natalie.

“No, yeah. I totally believe you,” Lottie deadpanned, rolling her eyes. “Look, you can let her rail you six ways to Sunday. I don’t care. Just… I’m pretty sure your heart lives in your vagina. And the only language Natalie speaks fluently is sex.”

You nearly choked, color rushing to your cheeks as you gaped at her. “Did you just quote Grey’s Anatomy at me?”

“Yes. You deserved it,” she said, easily. She didn’t give you a chance to respond, leaving you there sputtering as she slipped out of the door.

The weeks passed in a haze of half-finished assignments and stretched-out silences. Class felt quieter, or maybe you just noticed the silence more now that no one was kicking their boots up next to you or passing little folded-up notes with crude smiley faces. Not that you were looking for her. You weren’t.

Mostly, you kept to yourself. Head down. Pen moving, even if you weren’t really writing anything worth remembering. Lottie kept giving you looks—those knowing, nosy-best-friend stares that said more than words—but to her credit, she didn’t push.

Until one Friday night.

“Alright, get up,” she said, leaning against your doorframe, already wearing a leather jacket and her “don’t talk to me unless you’re hot” eyeliner. “We’re going out.”

You blinked at her from your bed, still in the oversized t-shirt you hadn’t changed out of all day. “I have an essay due Monday.”

“You’re typing the heading. You’ve been typing the heading for an hour and a half.”

“…Fair.”

Jackie appeared behind her, holding up two black tops like she was staging a fashion intervention. “You don’t even have to have fun. You just have to exist in a room that isn’t this one. Preferably in something tight.”

Lottie grinned. “Club’s already packed. We’re meeting Van and Shauna there. And I’m not above dragging your ass by your ponytail.”

It was easier to say yes than to argue. And if your stomach twisted a little on the walk over, if your eyes flicked across every room you passed, it didn’t mean anything. You were just trying to have a good time. Just like everyone else.

That was all.

Except, you weren’t exactly having a good time.

Parties were already a stretch for you—clubs were worse. The music was too loud, the drinks too strong, and the air thick with sweat and smoke. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, nursing something pink and overpriced just for something to do with your hands.

And it definitely didn’t help that she was here. Across the club, half-shrouded in neon light, a girl draped over her like she belonged there. Her lips were at Natalie’s neck, and Natalie—well, Natalie looked like she couldn’t care less. Like she hadn’t shattered your entire nervous system a month ago and vanished without a trace.

You weren’t staring.

You weren’t.

Except, yeah, you were. Every time you tried to focus on what Lottie was saying, your eyes found their way back across the room. Her laugh—fuck, was that her laugh?—cut through the bass like it was wired directly to your chest. And it was stupid. You knew it was stupid. But that didn’t stop your drink from suddenly tasting too sweet, too bitter, too much.

And still, you stood there. Like an idiot. Not staring.

Just… looking. Casually. Occasionally. Every two seconds.

Lottie’s voice finally cut through the fog of your thoughts, one hand circling your wrist to get your attention. “Okay. You’ve been staring into that drink like it insulted your mom. What’s going on?”

You blinked, startled, then forced a smile. “Nothing. Just… strong.”

She raised a brow, unimpressed. “Right. And I’m a virgin.”

You huffed a laugh, barely.

Lottie leaned in, her voice softer now, more careful. “You know you don’t have to prove anything by being here, right? I told Jackie this was a bad idea, dragging you out tonight. But she swore you needed to 'shake off the post-midterm blues' or whatever bullshit she called it.”

You tried to protest, but she squeezed your arm. “Just… look, if you wanna go home, say the word. I’ll make something up. Tell Jackie you got explosive diarrhea or something.”

That made you laugh for real, and Lottie smiled, pleased with herself.

But before you could decide whether to take the lifeline or not, Jackie reappeared, waving Lottie toward the dance floor with a look that said now or never. Lottie hesitated, looked between you and the crowd, then gave you one last squeeze.

“Don’t do anything reckless,” she warned, then grinned, teasing. “Unless it’s hot. In that case, tell me everything tomorrow.”

And just like that, they were gone. Swallowed by the lights and bodies and bass, leaving you standing there—alone, drink in hand, stomach twisted in knots as your gaze drifted right back across the room.

Back to her.

With your emotional support system officially gone, you turned your attention to burning holes into the melting ice in your glass.

By the time the song shifted, twice, there was still no sign of Lottie or Jackie. And worse, no sign of her. The crowd pulsed around you in waves of sequins and sweat, but the bar remained frustratingly out of reach. You’d been trying,and failing, to get the bartender’s attention for what felt like forever, elbow tucked in, voice swallowed by the bass thudding in your chest.

Your throat was dry. Your skin felt too warm. And your thoughts were a loop of why did she leave, why did she come back, and why now?

Just as you were about to raise your voice and wave dramatically across the bar like a desperate loser, you felt it.

A presence at your back, heat sliding in like it had always belonged there. Arms on either side of you, caging you in against the sticky bar top. The familiar warmth of her, so close you could feel the brush of her breath against your neck. Your whole body went rigid before you even saw her face.

And then—clink—a glass was slid in front of you.

The exact drink you’d been trying to order.

You didn’t have to turn around. You already knew.

She was right there, leaning in like no time had passed at all. Like she hadn’t disappeared off the face of the earth. Her eyes were darker under the strobing club lights, a curl of smugness already playing at her lips.

“Miss me, princess?”

Her voice was lower than you remembered—syrup-thick, smug and slow, like a secret sliding into your ear. You hated how fast your stomach dropped. Hated even more how your pulse kicked up in response.

She smelled like cigarettes and expensive perfume and trouble. The kind of trouble you’d already tasted.

And clearly weren’t finished craving.

You huffed, aiming for annoyed but landing somewhere closer to breathless. It came out as a shaky exhale, barely holding weight.

“Didn’t even notice you were gone,” you said, too fast and too soft.

It was meant to be casual, dismissive. But the words caught at the edges, stuttering out at the end like a half-truth you couldn’t commit to. You could feel her smirk without even looking, pressed right against your neck like she already knew the game was over.

“Mmhmm. Let’s go with that,” she murmured, lips brushing lightly against your skin. Her voice was teasing, lazy, so confident it almost made you dizzy.

And then her hands moved—subtle and slow—from the bar to your thighs, fingertips skimming just beneath the hem of your skirt like she had all the time in the world. Your back straightened instinctively, your breath catching as the heat of her touch climbed higher.

She didn’t rush. Didn’t have to. She already had you unraveling, and she knew it.

“Missed these,” she whispered, fingers ghosting upward in a maddening path, “All warm and jumpy for me already?”

God, she was infuriating. And terrifying. And unfairly good at this.

And you were completely, hopelessly screwed.

“You gonna say thank you for the drink,” Natalie murmured, lips ghosting over your jaw, “or keep pretending you’re mad at me?”

Her mouth was hot and sloppy, trailing kisses that had no business being that good. One of her hands slipped beneath the hem of your skirt, fingers dragging slow and deliberate along the inside of your thigh. Each brush was maddening, electric, and with every second that passed, it got harder to remember why you were supposed to be angry. Harder to remember that this was a very public place.

“Christ,” you hissed, breath catching as your fingers wrapped around her wrist just before she could reach your underwear. “Natalie,” you warned, trying—failing—to inject some authority into your voice.

She only laughed, low and satisfied, and pressed one last sweltering kiss against your jaw before pulling back like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just turned you inside out in the span of thirty seconds.

She leaned beside you, elbows propped on the bar, eyes glinting with mischief and something else. Something softer, quieter. Dangerous in a different way.

“Come on, baby,” she said, voice teasing, but gentler now. “Forgive me.”

You stared at her, heart racing, thighs pressed together like it could stop the way your body responded to her. And God, that look in her eyes—it was unfair. Open, almost sweet, like she meant it. Like she wasn’t the same girl who vanished for weeks without a word.

What had Jackie said?

You’re smarter than this.

Yeah. Right.

You couldn’t help the dumb smile that crept across your face at her words, no matter how hard you tried to fight it. You twirled the straw in the drink she’d gotten you, pretending to be casual—cool, unbothered—as you took a sip to distract yourself from the way your heart was pounding.

“Fine,” you muttered, quieter than you should have with the bass pulsing through the room. “There’s nothing to forgive you for anyway.”

“Atta girl,” Natalie smirked, all teeth and trouble as she leaned in close again, her shoulder brushing against yours. Her voice was velvet-slick when she added, “Now that that’s out of the way… do I get a kiss?”

Your eyes scanned the crowd on instinct, searching for any glimpse of Lottie or, God forbid, Jackie. The last thing you needed was your emotional support blonde launching herself across the bar to punch Natalie square in the face.

When the coast came up clear, you let out a slow breath and turned back toward her. Natalie was already watching you with that look—that lazy, smug, painfully attractive one that made your brain short-circuit.

You hesitated. Just for a second.

But then you leaned up on your tiptoes, and she was already there, meeting you halfway like she’d been waiting for it. Her hands found your waist with a practiced ease, tugging you closer like she knew she could.

And you let her.

Because of course you did.

Natalie kissed you like she’d missed you. Like she hadn’t ghosted you and let the rumors run wild while you lay awake at night wondering what the hell any of it meant.

Her lips were warm and coaxing, her hands still firm on your waist, thumbs brushing just beneath the hem of your top like she couldn’t help herself. And you hated how easily you melted into it. How easily you forgot your own name when her mouth was on yours.

The kiss didn’t last long—probably less than a few seconds—but it knocked the breath clean out of your lungs.

When you pulled back, your lips were tingling and your heart was somewhere near your throat. You blinked up at her, dazed, maybe a little drunk on the moment.

Natalie just grinned like she hadn’t done anything at all. Like she hadn’t just unraveled you in front of half the club.

“Still mad at me?” she asked, teasing, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip in a way that made your stomach twist.

You opened your mouth to respond, but your voice caught in your throat.

Because over Natalie’s shoulder, across the club and half-lit by the rotating strobe, stood Jackie.

Arms crossed. Jaw clenched. Eyes locked directly on you.

Your stomach dropped.

Natalie didn’t seem to notice right away. She was still watching you, still trailing lazy circles against your waist like she owned you. But you had frozen completely, your gaze rooted to Jackie’s, who was already elbowing Lottie and muttering something into her ear.

Lottie’s brows furrowed as she looked up—and then her face dropped too.

You took a sharp breath, already stepping back, the weight of reality crashing back over you like a cold drink down the spine.

Natalie’s hands slipped from your waist, and she finally followed your stare across the club. You watched her expression shift, only slightly, only for a flicker, and then that same smirk returned.

“Oops,” she murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face as you downed the rest of your drink in one go. That was starting to get a little too easy.

Natalie’s laughter curled around you, low and pleased. She made no effort to move away—if anything, she leaned in closer, her shoulder brushing yours, the heat of her body grounding and infuriating all at once.

You spotted Jackie across the club, still pushing her way through the crowd like a woman on a mission. Her glare was laser-focused on you, and if looks could kill, Natalie would’ve been six feet under.

“I think she might actually punch you,” you muttered under your breath, eyes flicking back to Natalie.

She just smiled—crooked and unhinged, but somehow still maddeningly genuine—before grabbing your hand without warning and tugging you toward the back of the club. “Don’t worry,” she said, glancing over her shoulder with a wink. “I know the owner.”

Of course she did.

Natalie had that air about her. The kind that turned heads, parted crowds, and demanded space without asking for it. She didn’t move through the world so much as she made it bend to her.

You followed her through the chaos—less a decision and more a gravitational pull—ducking around bodies and dodging the heavy bass that rattled through your chest. Jackie and Lottie disappeared behind you, swallowed by the crowd before either could intervene.

Natalie pulled you up a narrow staircase and into a surprisingly clean bathroom, far too nice for a bar like this, with tile that wasn’t sticky and a mirror that didn’t have someone’s number scrawled in eyeliner. You barely had time to catch your breath before the lock clicked shut behind you.

Natalie was still giggling somewhere behind you as you gripped the edge of the sink, the cold porcelain grounding you in a way nothing else could. You were so going to hear an earful about this later—from Jackie, from Lottie, from your own common sense. Not that Natalie seemed to care. Her giggles died out around you like smoke in the air.

You swatted at her, more reflex than retaliation. There was no real heat in it. Mostly, it was just an excuse to reach for her. To touch her.

Her eyes tracked the movement, lingering on your fingers like they were something delicate. Then they rose, slowly, until they landed on your face. There was always something in her gaze when she looked at you—something too intense, too focused. That was what had drawn you to her in the first place. That look. Like you were a puzzle she intended to solve. Or a meal she hadn’t quite finished.

"Y'know, you never called me," she said, circling you slowly. Her voice was light, teasing, but her eyes didn’t match. There was a pout to her mouth, lips still kiss-flushed from earlier, and an edge to the softness that made your breath catch.

"You didn’t exactly stick around long enough for me to know if I should,” you muttered, doing your best to keep your voice even.

She hummed at that—low, almost thoughtful—and stepped in close. So close the toes of your shoes touched. Her hand came up slowly, almost tender, but when her fingers caught your chin, there was nothing soft in the grip. Just control.

“Didn’t realize you expected me to,” she murmured, head tilting slightly, eyes scanning your face like they could read the things you didn’t dare say.

If she hadn’t been holding your chin, you might’ve turned away. Might’ve tried to hide the blush creeping up your neck. You hadn’t expected her to stay.

You just didn’t know what to do when she didn’t.

You cleared your throat, the moment threatening to swallow you whole. “Who was the girl earlier?” you asked, aiming for casual, even though it came out more like a deflection. A lifeline.

Natalie just smiled, slow and amused—like she knew exactly what you were doing.

She stared at you for a moment, in that infuriating way, like she could see straight through you, before her hands dropped from your chin to your waist, like they belonged there. Like she had the right to touch you however she pleased.

She leaned in close, her breath brushing over your lips, thick with hunger. “Nobody important,” she murmured. “Just a way to… pass the time.”

A quiet inhale left you as she bumped your nose with hers. So close, you could feel the shape of her smirk on your mouth.

“She seemed pretty interested in you,” you said, trying to sound unaffected.

Natalie hummed again. It felt mocking, like she could smell the lie on your breath. Her lips grazed yours, soft and fleeting, pulling back before it became a real kiss.

“Yeah, well,” she drawled, her fingers sliding down your hips and curling around your thighs. “I was a little too busy imagining these,” her hands squeezed lightly for emphasis, “wrapped around my face.”

You swallowed hard.

“I think she got the hint after that.”

She shrugged, nonchalant—like she hadn’t just set your entire nervous system on fire.

You hated the way your knees nearly gave out at her words. Hated more that she noticed, because of course she did. Her grin deepened, cocky and slow, like she could see every thought running wild in your head.

“Don’t,” you managed, voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t even know what you were asking. Don’t touch me like that. Don’t look at me like you want to ruin me. Don’t make this harder than it already is.

But she didn’t stop.

Instead, she stepped in closer, closing the tiny sliver of space left between you, her thigh slipping between yours like it had every right to be there. “You sure?” she asked, low, almost tender—like she was giving you an out she knew you wouldn’t take.

Your breath caught. You wanted to be strong. You wanted to pretend like you weren’t already leaning into her warmth, chasing that familiar scent of smoke and peppermint on her collar. But your body betrayed you before your mouth even could.

“Natalie…” It was meant to be a warning, but it sounded a lot more like a plea.

She tilted her head. “What?” she asked, all faux innocence. “I’m not doing anything.”

Her hands settled on your hips again, thumbs brushing over the skin just beneath your shirt. “You’re the one letting me,” she murmured, voice silk-wrapped sin.

And she wasn’t wrong. God, she wasn’t wrong.

You could feel it building—the part of you that still wanted to care, wanted to be mad. But it was no match for the heat curling low in your belly, the way she was looking at you like she already knew she’d won.

Maybe she had.

Because when she leaned in again—lips brushing just barely against your jaw, breath warm against your ear—you didn’t stop her.

You didn’t even try.

Her lips dragged along your jaw, slow and unhurried, like she had all the time in the world. Like she enjoyed the way your breath hitched every time her mouth skimmed your skin.

“You don’t even sound mad,” she whispered, tongue darting out to trace just beneath your earlobe. “You just sound…” her teeth grazed the sensitive spot under your ear, “…needy.”

A whimper slipped from your lips before you could bite it back. She grinned against your skin, and her hands roamed lower again, finding the hem of your skirt and slipping underneath with practiced ease.

Your fingers clutched the edge of the sink behind you like a lifeline. This was insane. You were in a bar bathroom. Your best friend wanted to commit a felony on Natalie’s face. And yet…

You didn’t move.

Her fingers found the soft skin of your inner thigh and paused, just barely brushing against the edge of your underwear. “Still pretending you’re mad?” she murmured, voice thick and low as her mouth finally met yours.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was hot and heavy and desperate, the kind of kiss that knocked thoughts out of your head and left nothing but feeling behind. Her hand gripped your waist while the other pushed higher between your thighs, teasing the edge of your underwear like a question she already knew the answer to.

You gasped into her mouth, your hips betraying you, rocking into her touch without thinking.

“There she is,” Natalie growled, her voice smug and hungry. “Knew you missed me.”

You could’ve cursed her. You should’ve. But the only sound that came out of your mouth was a needy whimper as her fingers slipped beneath the fabric, finally touching you like she owned you. Like she’d never left.

And honestly? In that moment?

You didn’t want her to.

Her fingers were relentless, certain, like she already knew every inch of you. Her mouth was on your neck, dragging sloppy, open-mouthed kisses across skin that felt like it was burning alive under her touch. You gasped when she bit down, the sting sharp, needy—before her tongue soothed over the mark with practiced ease. All of it felt like a distraction, like she was trying to keep you from noticing what her hands were doing until it was too late.

And then it was.

One finger slipped inside you, and your whole body went rigid. The air left your lungs in a shaky exhale, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto. She stilled immediately, her body going tense against yours, as if the weight of the moment hit her all at once. That this was… new. That it meant something.

Her breath tickled your ear as she whispered, gentler than you'd ever heard her, “Is this okay?”

Her free hand came up to cradle the back of your head, grounding you with a tenderness that made your chest ache. You nodded into the crook of her neck—small, uncertain—but the shift of your hips spoke louder, chasing the friction, chasing her.

She took the cue, resuming her movements, slow and deliberate. Her thumb pressed firm circles that had you clenching around her. When she slipped in a second finger, a moan tumbled from your lips before you could even try to hold it back.

Your thoughts were static. Your body buzzing.

And through the haze, that quiet voice inside you asked the same thing over and over again:

How did I end up here again?

Another fucked-up hookup with Natalie. Another semi-sketchy public place. Another moment of spiraling just barely masked by how good she made you feel.

Only this time, it didn’t feel like just a hookup. Not when she looked at you like that. Not when she touched you like you were more than just a way to pass the time.

And that was the part that scared you the most.

Her hands tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back, exposing your flushed face and blown pupils to her hungry gaze. Just enough to press your mouths together again—hot, deep, messy—her tongue slipping inside like she already owned every part of you.

“You always taste so sweet,” she murmured against your lips, her voice thick with desire. “You gonna let me get a real taste?”

A full-body shiver ran through you, the words caught somewhere in your throat. But the way you clenched around her fingers—desperate, involuntary—told her everything she needed to know. And if the way her mouth crashed back against yours was any indication, she understood exactly what that meant.

Without warning, her arm slid around your waist, and in one fluid motion, she hoisted you up onto the bathroom sink. The cold porcelain under your thighs made you jolt, but Natalie was already crowding in, her lips dragging a hot, open-mouthed trail down the line of your throat, over your collarbone, down the center of your chest.

She moved lower, hands firm on your hips as she knelt between your legs—knelt for you, like she was worshiping at the altar of your body. Her breath ghosted across your inner thighs, her lips pressing soft, searing kisses to skin that had never felt so exposed.

The sight of her there—Natalie, all smug confidence and bad intentions, on her knees in front of you—was enough to make you press your legs together on instinct. It was too much. Too real.

She smiled at that, hands smoothing up your thighs like she had all the time in the world. Then, without breaking eye contact, she reached up and hooked her fingers under your underwear, tugging them down with agonizing slowness.

And when they hit the floor, she just grinned—and slipped them into her jacket pocket like a prize she fully intended to keep.

She placed featherlight kisses along your legs, coaxing them back open with a kind of gentleness that betrayed everything else about her. Like she wasn’t the devil incarnate wrapped in a leather jacket and blonde hair. Each kiss she pressed to the inside of your thigh was maddening—slow, deliberate, infuriating. And she knew it. That smug grin was practically stamped into your skin, pressed into every inch she touched.

“One day,” she murmured, lips brushing against the soft skin just above your knee, “I’m going to fuck you properly.” Another kiss, higher this time, the warmth of her breath trailing after. “But for now…” A final kiss at the crux of your thigh. “This’ll have to do.”

And then—her mouth was on you.

Your breath left you in a gasp, hands scrambling, desperate for something to hold onto. You found her hair, soft between your fingers, and gripped it like a lifeline as her tongue moved against you with devastating precision. She didn’t rush, didn’t tease—she devoured, like she had nowhere else to be but between your thighs, like she had every intention of burning your name into the floor of that grimy bathroom.

When her fingers slid back inside, curling just right, your head snapped back and hit the mirror with a dull thunk. You barely registered the sting. Not when every nerve in your body was alight, your thighs trembling around her.

“F—fuck, Natalie, oh my god—”

You could feel her smirk even with her face buried between your legs. She pulled back slightly, just enough to let her breath ghost across your core, her lips brushing you in the barest hint of a kiss.

“Tsk, tsk,” she drawled, all fake disappointment and dark amusement. “Who knew you had such a dirty mouth, princess?”

Your fingers tightened in her hair, a broken whimper escaping before you could swallow it back. Her laugh was muffled against you, more of a smug vibration than a sound, but it sent another wave of heat spiraling down your spine. She was relentless now—tongue moving in rhythm with her fingers, curling inside you like she already knew exactly what you needed.

Your thighs trembled, but she didn’t let up. One arm wrapped securely around your waist to keep you from slipping off the counter, grounding you even as she tore you apart.

“Natalie—” Her name left your mouth again, this time more like a prayer, strangled and high. “I can’t—fuck, I’m gonna—”

She groaned in response, low and hungry, and the sound vibrated straight through you. Her fingers sped up just a fraction, hitting that spot inside you again and again, her tongue working you over until the pressure building in your stomach snapped tight—so tight it was almost unbearable.

And then it broke.

You came with a cry that echoed off the tile walls, body jolting as your muscles locked and your vision whitewashed behind your eyelids. Natalie didn’t stop. She worked you through it, slowing only when your thighs started to twitch with oversensitivity. Her grip eased, but her lips stayed pressed to your skin, her tongue soft now, soothing in the aftermath.

Your whole body went slack, boneless against the mirror behind you, chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. Natalie stood slowly, her chin glistening, eyes dark with satisfaction and just a hint of something softer.

She brushed a damp strand of hair from your forehead and leaned in like she was going to kiss you again—but stopped just short, smirking.

“You always come so sweet for me,” she whispered.

Your only answer was another soft moan and a shaky exhale, still too wrecked to manage anything else.

She helped you down off the sink and onto trembling legs, smoothing out your skirt like she was merely fixing your outfit—not like she’d just had her mouth on you, making you come undone in a bathroom that definitely didn’t deserve the memory. Your chest was still heaving, heart pounding in your ears as the reality of what had just happened settled deep into your bones. You’d given yourself up to Natalie again.

And God, you didn’t regret it.

Not when the post-orgasm haze was still wrapping around your limbs like silk.

Not when Natalie was looking at you like you were still something she hadn’t figured out yet.

She leaned in, this time unprompted. Her lips found yours in a kiss that was hurried and messy—completely Natalie in every way that mattered. When she pulled back, her fingers brushed over your cheek like she didn’t want to break the contact too fast.

“I should probably get you back before Jackie sends the cops. Or worse—her gang of, like, cheerleaders.”

You let out a breathy giggle, still dazed. “Yeah, I’d probably steer clear of her for a while. Honestly, you going off the grid for a month might’ve saved you a black eye.”

Natalie paused with her hand on the door, her grip on the knob tightening for a second before she turned back around. She didn’t look at you right away—just reached out and laced your fingers together. It was simple, easy. But it was also her, and it made your pulse jump.

“For the record,” she said, voice lower now, “I had some family stuff going on. I wasn’t avoiding you.”

Your spine went stiff at the sincerity in her tone. It was the most genuine thing she’d ever said to you. Maybe the most genuine you’d ever heard from her, period. You opened your mouth to respond—something, anything—but the words got stuck behind your tongue.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

Her trademark smirk slid back into place like a mask she was used to wearing.

“Don’t worry, princess. I was definitely thinking about you. Mostly the way you sound moaning in m—”

You cut her off with a shove, your face burning as you reached around her to yank open the door, doing your best to pretend you weren’t blushing down to your toes.

Her laughter followed you out like smoke—warm and smug and so very Natalie.

The music swelled around you again as you pushed through the thinning crowd, the bass vibrating in your chest. The club had emptied just enough to make the space feel less suffocating, but the energy was still pulsing, hot and heavy in the air.

You spotted Lottie first. Her gaze locked onto yours across the floor, expression unreadable—until her eyes dropped. First to Natalie’s hands, still planted firmly on your waist, then to the fresh hickey blooming high on your neck like a signature she’d been expecting. Her brows lifted, unimpressed, as you approached.

Two shots slid across the bar toward you the moment you reached her. “Natalie,” she said coolly, her voice clipped. But the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth gave her away.

Natalie didn’t bother hiding hers. She leaned in closer behind you, palm spreading confidently across your stomach like she was staking a claim. A tension flickered in the air as she returned Lottie’s stare without blinking.

“Lottie,” she greeted, her voice all swagger. “Got your girl back in one piece. Tell Blondie not to send in the frat rat haters club.”

A beat passed, the three of you suspended in that strange moment—Lottie clearly trying not to roll her eyes, Natalie practically glowing with satisfaction, and you stuck between them, cheeks burning.

You grabbed the shot and threw it back in one go. Probably safer that way.

That broke their staring contest. Both of them turned to you with matching raised brows, like you were the punchline to a joke they hadn’t let you in on. But at least it did the trick—no more posturing, just the sharp clink of both shots disappearing down their throats.

Natalie stepped in close again, all heat and intent, ignoring Lottie entirely as she leaned forward, smile widening like a dare. There was something in her eyes. Mischief, hunger—but also expectation. She was waiting. For you.

Waiting to see if you’d meet her halfway.

Your eyes flicked toward Lottie, who was cool as ever, but the subtle lift of her lip wasn’t passive—it was a challenge. A reminder that she knew this game too well. It was easy to forget that she and Natalie were friends. That they ran in the same circles, played the same kind of games, and maybe had even kissed the same girls.

You rolled your eyes, but you gave in. Let Natalie pull you closer, lips brushing, then parting—open, eager—as her tongue slid into your mouth like she owned the right to be there. And when she finally pulled away, you were breathless, dazed, blinking up at her like she’d stolen something.

She just winked.

Then her gaze shifted past you, catching something behind your shoulder. Her eyes widened for a split second, barely, but her grin only deepened. She pressed one last kiss to your lips, fast and fleeting.

“Gotta run, baby,” she murmured, already stepping back. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

And then she was gone.

You didn’t even have a full second to catch your breath before Jackie materialized like a storm front.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

Jackie’s voice cut through the bass like a whip, sharp and instant. You turned just in time to catch her weaving through the crowd with singular purpose, her eyes locked on you like you were the enemy. Her expression was somewhere between disbelief and disappointment, like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to yell at you or stage an intervention.

You opened your mouth, some half-formed excuse already on your tongue, but Jackie was already in front of you.

“Please tell me that wasn’t Natalie you were just making out with in front of everyone.”

Lottie snorted from beside you, clearly not planning to play peacekeeper. She leaned one elbow on the bar, sipping from your forgotten drink like she lived for moments like this.

“Oh, it was her,” she said airily, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Tongue and everything. Very handsy.”

You groaned, covering your face with both hands as Jackie’s mouth dropped open.

Lottie leaned toward you conspiratorially. “I’d give it a seven out of ten, honestly. Could’ve used more neck grabbing.”

“Lottie,” Jackie snapped, “you’re not helping.”

“I’m not trying to,” she grinned.

You lowered your hands just enough to glare at her, heat crawling up your neck. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Oh, completely,” Lottie said with zero shame. “Natalie’s playing the long game, and you are so not ready for it.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue, especially not with the ghost of Natalie’s mouth still tingling against yours and your heart doing somersaults in your chest like a traitor. Jackie folded her arms, clearly waiting for an explanation, but you just shrugged helplessly.

“She found me at the bar.”

“She always finds you at the bar.”

“And she brought me a drink,” you added lamely, as if that somehow justified the very public display of affection that had followed.

Jackie looked like she wanted to scream.

Lottie leaned over again. “Just admit you’re in love with her and let us all go home.”

“I am not—” you started, too fast, too defensive.

Lottie raised a brow.

Jackie rolled her eyes.

You sighed, defeated. “It’s... complicated.”

Jackie muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, It’s always complicated with her, before grabbing one of the shots Lottie had left and downing it without so much as a toast.

You turned back to your drink and tried to get your pulse back under control, but Lottie was already nudging your side with a smug grin.

“She’s got you so bad.”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to.

You let Jackie’s frat rat rant fill the space between you, her voice rising and falling like waves crashing over the pulsing bass of the club. You weren’t really listening—not with your body still humming from the aftermath of Natalie, and the burn of the shot now curling warm in your veins.

Lottie sidled closer, her presence subtle but unmistakably amused. She didn’t say anything at first, just let her hand drift along your thigh, fingers ghosting beneath the hem of your skirt, far enough out of Jackie’s line of sight to stay unnoticed.

Your body tensed, nerves still fried and suddenly very aware of the fact that Natalie hadn’t given your underwear back. Before you could even react, Lottie’s finger pressed directly against the angry bloom of a hickey you hadn’t even realized Natalie had left.

You winced, swatting her hand away with a glare.

She just laughed, completely unbothered, dragging her finger across her lips like she was sealing a secret.

“Yeah,” she smirked, eyes glittering. “You’re so screwed.”

Understatement of the century.

[moonchild1]

park jimin fic rec list (Ⅲ)

woah it really has been a long time since i posted but i am so glad to be back and to get back into reading i saw so many of my favourite authors have updated and i am beyond excited to start this journey again but in the mean time here's jimin rec list as promised it was so exciting finishing this list cause i got so nostalgic making it and reading all the old fics i had on my reading list ughhh i just loved it so much and it got me back into the swing of things and i cant wait to make more lists, i do have another jjk list ready and i will post it the day after tomorrow so i hope you enjoy this one and don't forget to show all the love and support in the world to these amazing authors they work so hard to create these fics for us and they deserve endless praise and love for the commitment and generosity they have so please do leave them a comment, heart or reblog a small comment can go a long way here and can make someone smile even bigger so dont don't shy away from making someone happy... as usual you guys know this fics i recommend contain smut so minors don't interact you will be blocked... i really do love hearing from you guys so if you do have a little fic you are super into right now and you just want to rant about how amazing it is feel free to send me an ask 😊🖤

a- angst s- smut f- fluff

series

plot twist by @xpeachesncream f s a

↳ jimin isn’t interested in fake dating, but he’s definitely interested in getting to know someone the right way. after all, he feels like he’s ready to put himself out there and give it all he’s got. so, he takes a risk in trying something completely out of his comfort zone and hops on the new, popular dating app - only to come across and get to know someone he didn’t expect to meet.

a remedy for mondays by @dovechim s

↳ all you wanted was just one day off work. but for that to happen, you need to invent a plausible reason. and then somehow, somewhere along the way, things get out of hand, and now people think you’re having a baby with your co-worker Park Jimin after a one-night stand. confused? join the club.

it’s okay, that’s love by @/dovechim f s a deals with deep subjects

↳ People are constantly making some kind of connection with each other- be it friendship or romance. But human bonds always lead to messy complications; commitment, sharing, driving people to the airport, letting them get up close and personal with the darkest parts of ourselves. And sure- it’s scary as hell to watch them cross those boundaries you’ve so meticulously drawn, but it’s okay, because that’s love.

so it goes by @/dovechim f s

↳ Park Jimin knows a lot about humans. of course he does, he studies them for a living. he knows that they say hello by holding hands, and when they say goodbye, they put their arms around each other. but this particular human, he notes, is unlike the rest- stuck in a slump, going about your day praying for the Universe to stage an intervention in the form of an alien abduction. when he decides to finally fulfil your wishes, he finds that you have a little something to teach him about what it means to live life on Earth the way you do: ugly crying, underwear and all. in return, he shows you the possibilities that abound if you simply adopted their mantra: everything is beautiful, and nothing hurts.

love again by @taestefully-in-luv f s a

↳ A friend of yours is eager to introduce you to her new man but what happens when Park Jimin, the man who broke your heart 5 years ago walks in through the door?

the other woman: the seduction and the illusion by @namjooningelsewhere f s a

↳ No one told you being the other woman would never be easy, No one told you that his love would be two sides to a same coin. No one told you he came to you because you were his escape to his demons. No one told you he would always call you his, but he would never be yours. And most importantly no one told you, He never loved you because you dont destroy the people you love.

FUTURE HEARTS by @jungblue f s a ft. jjk

↳ It was everything, from his tattoos, to his touches, to the way sweat rolled down his neck as he strummed into his guitar on stage; everything about him completely enthralled you. So why are you now, two and a half years later, on a train to Seoul, telling a complete stranger the recollection of how you became fated to forever have scars on all of your future hearts due to the happiness, but most of all the pain, that came along with falling in love with Jeon Jungkook. 

after the applause by @foxymoxynoona

↳ Jimin doesn't know how he would have made it this far after the shattering of his world without the support of his thoughtful, generous, helpful neighbor. Hanbyul has lived next to hottie Jimin and his adorable daughter for years now, long enough to remember the wife he was so devoted to and lost far too young. With each safely ensconced on their side of the brick wall of the Parks' grief, it will take an enterprising little scientist to set the stage for a second chance at love.

saved by @to-star-lake s a

rockstar au deep subjects read warnings

midnight memories by @hobipaint f s a

↳ there's drunk habits, and then there's drunk mistakes. What do you call meeting your friend - no, ‘former friend’ - at a bar, getting drunk with him and sleeping- 'accidentally' - with him? especially when everyone already knows that you stay away from him as much as the day does from night?

Easy. You forget about it.

heartbreak chronicles by @sugaxjpg s

↳ Park Jimin had it all — good grades, a place as the soccer team’s captain and, more than that, the broken hearts of at least half the campus’ population. Though, one thing he did not have was someone willing to break his heart and, after you were dragged inside a miraculous plan to play that part, the last thing counted on was the preposterous idea that, perhaps, you could fall for him as well. 

drifting by@hongcherry f a

↳ After being assigned different partners for your midterm routine, your and Jimin’s relationship starts to deteriorate when you both begin spending more time away from each other and with your assigned partners instead.

growing pains by @taleasnewastime f s a

↳ Growing up the daughter of the boss of a gang is never easy, but normally the problems are around being given too many responsibilities, or the risk of being connected to a gang leader, or wanting to escape but not being able to. But you’ve got a different problem, you want more responsibility, want to be like your brother who’s been named heir, want a role in the family gang. Your whole life you’ve been denied what you want, being born a female seemingly your main issue; perceived as weak, naïve, trying to step above your station. But as unsupportive and dismissive as your family is, there is always the bright light that is Jimin; the boy you love but can never have.

tuqburni by @solastia f s a ft.myg

↳ You’ve spent two years building a life with Yoongi who you loved more than anything in the world. Now, his ex-boyfriend Jimin is back in the picture, and Yoongi begs you not to make him choose between the two of you, offering the choice of a polyamorous relationship. Though your heart is shattered, you agree.

stardust by @venusjeon f a

↳ struck by your beauty, Jimin begs to paint you naked behind the world's back so as not to stain your influential family—his patrons—with scandal.

drift by @snackhobi f s

↳ You used to think that there was nothing better than the sensation of coming first place. However, your rival- the talented, gorgeous, dangerous Park Jimin- is more than happy to prove you wrong.

the deli diaries by @jimlingss f

↳ Working at a grocery store deli is absolutely unbearable (and you’re also perfectly aware of how dramatic you are). But it seems like something, or rather, someone might make the job a bit more manageable.

best of me by @xotoosweet f a

↳ when he tells the story of how he met you in a few years, he'll claim that it was meant to be. you'll laugh and call it a coincidence. it was a coincidence that on the first day of summer semester, he decided to go on a run (though he claimed he always ran in the mornings). it was a coincidence that he chose a less traveled path in the university arboretum that morning. and it was definitely a coincidence that you were there, sitting on the rail of the river bridge.

the ten days of ex-mas by @kpopfanfictrash f s a

↳ Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling.

strip by @yoonia f s a

↳ Summary | Everything you have done has always been about surviving life and raising your child on your own. Having someone else caring about you was the last thing you had expected. Especially when that someone is the same man you have watched performing every night on stage and secretly admired. But will he run the moment he finds out about your little secret waiting at home?

falling by @/yoonia s a

↳ For Park Jimin, you are everything he will ever need—his assistant, his housekeeper, his task runner, his fairy godmother. For you, he is more than everything. You have dedicated your life for him and, before you even realised it, your heart belongs to him alone. The only problem is that he is never yours, and you are living in a world that your love for him is nothing more than a fairytale ending. As you are suddenly given a chance to wake up and face the real world, will you be ready to embrace it? Will he be ready to deal with the world without you in it?

wrapped around by @jjkfire ft. kth f s a

↳ Freshman year was a mess and sophomore year doesn’t seem to be looking too good either. You know boys like them are no good for you but maybe they’re just your kind of type

baby, baby by @hobiwonder f s a

↳ When you’ve run out of savings to continue on to the last semester of your Bachelors - you take an unorthodox route. Helping a desperate couple have a child and getting paid for it? Heck yeah. But what do you know - it wasn’t as easy as it sounds.

love at first touch by bagelswrites (ao3)

↳ The first time you meet your soulmate, it leaves a bruise on both of you at the point of contact. From then on, your body begins rejecting any sustenance other than the touch of your soulmate. The trick is, the bruises take a few hours to appear, so you have to figure out who you've touched and find them before you starve to death. But once you do, all you ever need is them. So what happens if you're an idol and you meet your soulmate at a fan event?

our little family by @nightbts f a

↳ you were living a simple life filled with simple dreams; combining your two most loved things in life, children and teaching, you were starting out your career as a teacher at the local pre-school. but little did you know, how one child and her very special father, would change your simple life into something extraordinary

one-shot 35

brand new eyes by @missgeniality s

↳ Jimin’s eyes had potential to ruin you, and tonight you test the damage.

waves by @shina913 s

↳ It's Valentine's Day and your boyfriend decides to spice things up with a little surprise for you.

failure to communicate by @gukslut s

↳ Enemies to Lovers/ College AU

physical by @ppersonna f s

↳ you cant seem to escape the sexy fitness instructor that seemingly is everywhere you turn. it’s enough to make you irrational.

good for you by @candlewaxandp0lar0ids s

↳ Jimin can’t help the way he drowns himself in you. Why should he anyway?

ho-ho-home by @jjungkookislife s a

↳ Golden neighbor extraordinaire, Park Jimin, is (unintentionally) stealing your spotlight this holiday season. Despite your one sided rivalry with him, all Jimin wants is for you to remember him, to remember your past and hopefully create a future with you.

100km/hour by @chateautae s

↳ what exactly happens when you and your friends have to pile into one car for the ride home after an insane halloween party, and you find yourself sitting in park jimin’s lap? especially when he’s dressed as an angel, and you’re in the sluttiest devil costume ever?

what it's like by @jimilter s

↳ You’ve always heard great tales about how good the infamous fuckboy on campus, Park Jimin, is in bed, and wondered if there could be any truth behind these claims when the guy looks like an angel with his cheruby cheeks and precious smiles. So when a new gossip starts to circulate about how ‘hard he hits’, you have had enough of the suspense and decide to finally sample him yourself.

feel your touch by @/jimilter f s a

↳ You have always known yourself to be a sexual switch in bed, flipping between exercising and submitting control according to different situations and partners. And this camboy you are addicted to, one that seems to kinda reciprocate your interest, submits so beautifully that you just want to command him. But when things progress to levels you never anticipated, you end up discovering pleasant surprises that might just change your life.

the prince’s cinderella syndrome by @/jimilter f s a ft jjk

↳ He shows up at Halloween, every year, dressed the same, and leaves at midnight like some Cinderella. You would think he was a prankster if his eyes didn't look like they contained all the sadness in the world. You don't know him - no one on campus does. You don't know why he appears only once a year. You don't know why he never smiles. But you can't help falling in love with him. Even if he breaks your heart when he abandons you at midnight, again.

scream your panties by @opaljm s a

↳ As your midterms have ended and Halloween has arrived, you are looking forward to a pleasant time relaxing and enjoying the festivities at your sorority and Jimin’s frat houses. Luck is not in your favor, though, because things keep going wrong like a trail of dominoes falling – the only upside to your slowly deteriorating day being that you get to end it with your boyfriend’s delicious self between your legs.

first snow, last kiss by @taeshobipop f s a

↳ He broke your heart four years ago; the old loving memories of your time together now tainted by pure betrayal. Yet in the haze of new snow, after returning home for the first time, the moments you had once convinced yourself were nothing but a lie, reveal themselves to be otherwise.

antifreeze by @winetae s

↳ Jimin participates in the school’s adaption of The Nutcracker for extra credit but doesn’t expect his new dance partner to a) be this bad at dancing and b) be this fucking cute

what she likes by @untaemedqueen f s

idol au husband au marriage au

only you by @personasintro f s a

↳  you’ve been always there for your best friend, even when he became a single dad 

sucker by @/personasintro s a

↳ You wish you'd pay more attention to Jimin. Like, how his eyes kept changing color. How cold his skin was, too unrealistically to be natural. Or one second, he flashed you with his sharp canines and the next one he didn't have any. How much he craved for you, but not the way you thought he was.

please, lie to me by @ressjeon s a

↳ "centuries of loyalty vs. only months of fucking, how could you miscalculate?"

summer synchrony by @seokkgenie f s a

↳ childhood friends to lovers

neon seoul @readyplayerhobi f s a

↳ It the city of New Seoul, another homicide isn’t newsworthy but instead just a statistic. But when the son of the mayor is murdered in an alley in a shady part of the city? Then it’s important. You and your partner, Detective Park Jimin, are given the honour of investigating the crime. Will you find out who killed him? Or will you fail?

serendipity by @btsracket s a ao3

↳ It's serendipitous. Jimin braces for darkness but finds his light instead.

the boyfriend concept by @/kpopfanfictrash s

↳ Win a Date with a Porn Star! You saw the sign when you walked in, of course, but you had no idea your friend dropped your name into the raffle. Fast-forward to later that day, when you actually win. You are horrified, of course, with no intention of accepting and setting yourself up for embarrassment. But then you meet Jimin, and decide this might be worth a shot.

Lovely Demons by @/kpopfanfictrash s a

↳ As penance for a crime committed long, long ago, the Witch Council banished you to the feared Tholoss forest. Your sentence was one hundred thousand days of solitude – or death, whichever came first. Your only hope of salvation comes from the demon names routinely sent your way; creatures who escape the inner circles of Hell and pose a threat to the mortal realms. For each demon you kill, days are removed from your sentence. For years you’ve existed, biding your time, until one morning you receive a name which throws your entire world into chaos: the name of Park Jimin, High Prince of Hell himself.

blue blood by @joonbird s a

↳ “Prince Jimin was born with blue blood. His coronation is rapidly approaching, but there are two requirements he must fulfil before becoming a king. He must have the skills to fight in battle, and he must have a Queen with blood as blue as his. You, a member of the royal guard, are assigned to teach Jimin the ins and outs of combat. You are not scared of death, of blood, or of battle. What you are scared of however, is falling in love with Jimin, the one man your blood decrees you can never have.”

i want to be with you by @oddinary4bts f s a

↳ moving to Seoul has always seemed like a good idea, until the bubble bursts when you realize your new neighbor is Park Jimin, and he's not the sweet angel you've always imagined him to be. Will the reality of Park Jimin forever be a nightmare, or will he turn into a sweet dream?

locked in love by @parkmuse f s a

↳ Getting locked in the mall on Christmas eve isn’t ideal, but getting locked in the mall with your brothers best friend that you haven’t seen in a while? Well, it might have been alright if you didn’t have feelings for him.

peaches and cream by @snackhobi s

↳ you wouldn’t mind your cute neighbour being such a shameless fuckboy if a) the walls weren’t so thin and b) he didn’t seem intent on adding you as another notch in his bedpost. 

reset by @/dovechim s

↳ We are made of the pieces of what we remember, and we hold in ourselves the hopes and fears of those who love us. As long as there are memories to call our own, there can be no true loss. But Park Jimin has no such privilege. 

the dark side of the moon by @/dovechim s

↳ falling in love at first sight is cliche, not until it happens to you on a dark night in a lonely alley. but you’re only human, while Park Jimin is Alpha of his pack; it could never work out. so you resort to pining for him like a wolf howling at the moon, but when Jimin goes feral, that’s when everything changes. 

Unconditionally by @kstopping s a

↳ Jimin constantly torments you. But you love it.

Instinct by @evangelene f a

↳ A lost child appears into your life only to bring you closer Jimin–a man that you’d thought you’d hated once upon a time. Now all you want is to be there for the child, and maybe his father–but only if his mother gets the hell out of the way.

eternal sunlight by @kidguk f s a

↳ “college and soulmate au where the first words your soulmate will say to you are tattooed on your wrist. jimin thinks he met his soulmate exactly four months after he met and fell in love with you. you can’t explain your attraction or your feelings toward him, even though technically you’re meant to be with other people. taehyung and jungkook helpfully suggest that the universe might be glitching.”

foul play by @kimvtae f s a

↳ Everyone loves a good rivalry, and the students at your university are no exception. Unluckily for you, the rivalry of the decade is between yourself and a furiously irritating Park Jimin. A top gymnast and a basketball star shouldn’t cross paths, but Jimin makes his way into your heart before you can put a stop to it.

lost and found by @/kimvtae s a

↳ The only thing bigger than Park Jimin’s ass is his ego. After one too many scandals, after one too many mornings stumbling back to the dorms drunk or ruining the reputations of other idols, Jimin is given an ultimatum: complete a rehabilitation program in America or leave Bangtan.

if we were a movie by @/kimvtae f s a

↳ Friends with benefits never worked in the movies, but you and Jimin had been friends for so long, it was bound to work for you. Until, of course, Jimin gets a girlfriend, and you fear you may lose your friendship with him for good.

the pull of the tides by @goldenscript f s

↳ The expanse of the deep blue sea has always drawn you in. Each ebb and flow of the tides never ceasing to take your breath away. And now, a boy with hair as light as the morning sun and a smile just as bright does too. 

hard to say by @floralseokjin f s a

↳you've had feelings for your best friend Jimin for as long as you can remember, but you always thought they were unreciprocated. What if it turned out they weren’t...?

↬looking for pjm library or the other members check out my library

[loredrinker]

Shifting Awareness - Lover to Dread Wolf

The Trespasser slide using the name of “Dread Wolf” instead of Solas is a shift of awareness - Inquisitor Lavellan is no longer in the dark about who Solas is.

Throughout Trespasser, the Inquisitor moves through the Crossroads, uncovering hidden truths. If the player discovers all key pieces of information and pays attention, the Inquisitor is able to confront Solas using the title “Dread Wolf.” This narrative structure prepares the player to see Solas as Fen’Harel, with all the implications that name carries.  Where Veilguard drives home the “perception is reality” themes, it started here with Trespasser. How do you see Solas now that you have learned the truth of Fen’Harel?  

And so the use of “Dread Wolf” in the final slide of a romanced Solas/Lavellan confirms this recontextualization. Lavellan understands that the man she loved – Solas - is inseparable from the legend that now defines him. “Solas” is associated with intimacy, shared ideals. But the journey of Trespasser, and the revelations it holds, collapse that perception. It is no longer possible for her to see him only as Solas.  

Her eyes are wide open and have been since Trespasser.

From this point on, her search is not for the man he was with her, but for a way to reach the figure he feels he needs to be. In the post credit scene, the Inquisitor along with others start laying out the plans that lead us to Veilguard.  This is a Lavellan acting in full awareness, not clinging to illusions. She may still love him, but her pursuit is one of intervention, not denial.  

The slide also makes it clear that while it is her lover visiting her in her dreams, she knows it is the Dread Wolf’s heart she needs to change - she has already changed Solas’ heart, he's visiting her in her dreams after all, unable to let his vhenan go fully. What remains is the greater task: to change the Dread Wolf’s.  

The language of the slide names him not only as the Dread Wolf, but as her lover. The juxtaposition of these two titles is symbolic. “Lover” evokes the personal, the lived relationship. “Dread Wolf” evokes the mythic, the dangerous. She remembers the man and recognizes the god. Her private experience is converging with historical awareness.  

This symbolic duality and confirmation reappear when Lavellan meets Rook in Veilguard.  

How many of his names do you know? God of Lies, Dread Wolf, Fen'Harel. They're titles he earned from enemies, followers, and fractured history. He and I shared another name. Vhenan. 

Lavellan articulates to Rook the full spectrum of who Solas is - a man with many names, shaped by myth and propaganda. But she also names the personal. The game is confirming what the final slide of Trespasser already implied - Lavellan holds all these truths at once – her lover and the Dread Wolf. She does not need to rediscover who Solas is. She already knows. In fact, if anything, her clarity has sharpened. 

For this reason, any interpretation suggesting that Lavellan doesn't understand what she’s facing fails to account for the structure and language of the narrative. The slide isn't ambiguous. The shift in naming reflects not only her awareness, but her own transformation. She's no longer a woman mourning a lost lover - she is someone seeking a legend, prepared to intervene. 

And this shift repositions their romance story from personal to mythic. The end of Trespasser sets the stage - a legend in which the hero/heroine pursues a loved figure who has vanished into myth. The dream imagery reinforces this: Solas appearing in the Fade, in her dreams, watching from a distance, fading away when Lavellan reaches for him - because this is how myth behaves - untouchable, elusive. 

And yet, the slide does not end in despair. It ends in action: she searches, dreams, waits. These are verbs of persistence, strategy, and patience. The quest to “change the Dread Wolf’s heart” becomes the foundation for Veilguard, and for those who chose that path, there is nothing unexpected in how Lavellan is portrayed. She is a consistent extension of what the story has already shown: a woman who sees the myth and the man clearly.

[keeryhours]

the needle and the damage done - chapter two

Older! Rockstar! Eddie Munson x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

The band stages an intervention.

Warnings:

(18+), heavy drug use (heroin, cocaine), addiction, strung out Eddie, pregnancy, mention of miscarriage

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N:

Finally chapter 2! Thanks so much for reading!

—

Eddie awoke feeling like he’d been hit by a truck.

He didn’t even know where he was at first. He was sitting on a hard floor, slumped against a wall. He looked around, trying to figure out where he was and what he’d done - a usual occurrence for him. He wasn’t at home, that was for sure. He wasn’t at his dealer’s house, because this bathroom was actually clean and nice. It didn’t click until he saw the hand towels hanging on the wall, red embroidered E’s on them.

Oh. Gareth’s guest bathroom.

He looked around. The used syringe had fallen onto the floor next to him, along with the tourniquet. He must have passed out right after. His little baggie of smack also laid on the tiled floor, the white powder slightly spilling from the top. Eddie was struck by panic when he realized, scooping as much of it as possible back into the bag. Great job, Eddie, you fucking loser, he thought to himself. He had plenty of money, sure, but he still wasn’t about to waste any.

His kit was open on the floor, supplies spilling out. He must have been desperate for a fix. His cotton balls, syringes, alcohol wipes, tin foil and spoon were half on the floor. He’d have to throw some of it out.

Eddie debated on doing another shot. He had some coke in his pocket, he remembered; he could do a speedball. The idea excited him, made him feel alive. He had pulled the drugs from his pocket and was about to start measuring his dose when a loud banging came from the door. He jumped, nearly dropping his stuff, which immediately made him even more irritated than he was from the withdrawals that were already starting.

“What?” Eddie called through the door.

“Eddie, man, come out of there,” Gareth’s voice traveled through the door. “The guys are here. We wanna talk to you.”

Eddie’s head thudded back against the wall. “Can it wait, man? I’m kinda busy.”

It was quiet for a moment. “Eddie, come out.”

He cursed under his breath, shoving everything back into his kit. He quickly pushed the box under the sink where hopefully no one would look. “Yeah, okay. Give me a minute.”

Eddie stood, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked like absolute hell. Like he hadn’t showered or brushed his hair in days, and had been wearing the same clothes. Those things were probably all true. He ran his fingers through his curls, working out some tangles and straightening his dirty clothes before he opened the bathroom door.

“Yeah?”

Gareth took in his appearance, a look of…pity? on his face. He leaned over to look behind Eddie, like he was looking for something.

“What?” Eddie asked again, the irritation clear in his voice.

“The guys are here, we all want to talk to you,” Gareth repeated. “They’re out in the living room. Come out and talk to us.”

Gareth didn’t give him a choice as he turned and walked away. Eddie sighed, but followed behind him to the main room of the large house. He found Jeff and Grant sitting on the couch, Gareth standing. Gareth gestured for Eddie to sit in the chair.

Eddie was suspicious. Everyone was looking at him so seriously. He felt like a child that was about to be scolded. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Sit down, Eddie,” Jeff said this time.

Eddie looked at Jeff, incredulous. He was a grown ass 37 year old man. “What is this?”

“Just sit down, man,” Grant said.

Eddie looked at each of his (former) bandmates with his brows furrowed, but finally sat down in the chair. He waited for someone to speak. He had a bad feeling about this.

“Look,” Gareth started. “You know I love you. You know we all love you. But this is out of hand.”

Eddie shook his head. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

They all looked at him, that stupid pitying look on each of their faces. It made Eddie uncomfortable. He didn’t like this. Gareth took a deep breath.

“Eddie, you’re ruining your life with these drugs. We’re tired of watching our best friend slowly kill himself. And frankly, I’m tired of you sleeping on my couch and shooting up in my bathroom. As much as me and Roz both love you, we can’t let you keep doing this.”

Eddie looked at his best friend with wide eyes. Was this really happening? He opened his mouth to speak, but Grant spoke first.

“What’s going on, Eddie? This isn’t the guy we know and love,” he said.

Eddie scoffed. “Nothings going on. I’m fine.”

“Then why aren’t you home with your family?” Gareth asked, exasperated. “Why are you sleeping in my den? You have a wife and three amazing kids. Don’t you want to be at home with them?”

Eddie was quiet for a minute. Then, finally, “Four,” he muttered under his breath.

His three friends’ eyes went wide. “What?” Jeff asked.

“Four,” Eddie said again, looking down at his hands as he twisted one of his rings around his finger. “She’s…pregnant again.”

It was so silent you could hear a pin drop. After a minute, Gareth rubbed his hands over his face. “Jesus Christ, Ed.”

Eddie had never felt so guilty in his life. The thought of you, his daughters, and his unborn child made him feel like the worst man to ever live. He had abandoned you all, and he knew it. But he still found his fingers itching for the drugs hidden in the bathroom.

“You know your wife and kids miss you,” Jeff said. “Those girls don’t understand why you’re not home. They don’t understand when you come home all strung out. Do you ever think about that?”

That made Eddie feel even worse. He didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah,” Gareth added, “You know Roz talks to her all the time. She misses you. The girls ask about you constantly. And, honestly Ed, I miss my best friend. The Eddie Munson who was so full of life, who loved music and loved his family and friends more than anything.”

“You have so much to live for,” Grant said. “It doesn’t make any sense why you’re doing this to yourself. Your youngest is what, 3? And now you have another on the way? Come on, man. You’re really gonna let those kids grow up without a father?”

The words hit Eddie like a punch to the chest. He loved his girls fiercely - that included you. You were the love of his life. Always had been, always would be. And now he had gotten you pregnant again, and here he was at Gareth’s house getting high all day.

“We know she gave you an ultimatum,” Jeff said. “But you’re still here doing the same old thing.”

Eddie felt horrible. It was all true. He was a mess, and he did abandon you and his kids. But god, what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just stop. Not at this point. Every time he stopped, even just for a day, he got so unbearably sick, sweating and his body aching.

“It’s not that simple,” Eddie finally responded. “I can’t just stop.”

“We never said it was simple,” Gareth said, the pity evident in his voice. Eddie thinks that made it worse. “It’s not going to be easy at all. But we’re all here for you, man. And I know your wife would be right by your side the entire time if you decide to get clean. You just have to commit and put in the effort.”

Eddie shook his head. “You don’t get it, man.”

“What do we not get?” Jeff asked, sounding irritated now. “We get it, Ed. We get that you’re killing yourself with fucking drugs while you have so much to live for. We get that you ruined the band because you liked getting high too fucking much. We get that the drugs are the most important fucking thing to you and you chose them over everything else.”

“Dont fucking talk to me like that,” Eddie said, getting more upset by the minute. “You don’t know fucking anything.”

“We know more than you think we do,” Grant chimed in.

Eddie looked at his friends in shock. He could not believe this was happening. He could not believe his friends were staging a fucking intervention.

“This is bullshit,” Eddie said, standing from his chair. “Fucking bullshit.” He grabbed his bag from next to the couch and stormed out of the living room, back to the guest bathroom. He gathered his soaps and toothbrush and toothpaste, making sure to grab his kit from under the sink and shove it into the bag. He walked back out into the room, bag slung over his shoulder, heading for the front door. “Fuck all of you.”

“Eddie, where are you going?” Gareth asked, throwing his hands up in the air. He was tired. “You have nowhere else to go.”

Eddie didn’t answer. He stormed out of the house, slamming the front door behind him. He headed to his car, tossing the bag into the passenger seat before sliding into the driver’s seat.

He needed a fix bad. He was worked up from the confrontation, and the withdrawals were starting to really kick in. He pushed his curly hair out of his sweaty face with a shaking hand. He needed to get out of here.

Eddie pulled out of the driveway, driving the familiar path to his dealer’s apartment.

—

“Evie, can you pick up some of your barbies, honey?” You asked, stepping around the minefield of toys with Ivy on your hip. She was leaning on your shoulder, drowsy and ready for her nap.

“Okay,” Evie said with a dramatic sigh, but she moved to do as she was asked. She was a good kid, always did what she was told and never broke the rules. She had always been your little angel.

“Rhi?” You called, seeing her mess all over the kitchen table. “Please come clean up your art supplies! Remember when you move onto a new activity, put the old one away.”

Rhiannon groaned, stomping into the room with all her sass. “I was going to come back to it!”

“Okay, then you can take it back out when you do,” you said, not willing to argue with the 6 year old right now. You honestly were emotionally drained. Everything with Eddie had been taking a toll on you mentally and physically. Despite the harsh ultimatum you had given him, you were constantly thinking of him, missing him.

Rhiannon cleaned up her papers, paints, and markers, grumbling under her breath. You left the two older girls and walked into Ivy’s bedroom, giving her a kiss on the top of her head and laying her down in her toddler bed for a nap. The small girl rolled right over and went to sleep.

Back in the living room, the two sisters were fighting over the remote, grabbing it from each other, holding it out of reach, and pushing one another.

“What is going on??” You asked in your best Mom Voice.

“I want to watch Spy Kids!” Rhiannon huffed, turning to you with her hands on her hips. “And I had the remote first.”

“Not true!” Evie yelled. “And I want to watch Howl’s Moving Castle!”

You felt a headache coming on. You pinched the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath. “Okay, how about this. If you can’t agree, neither of you get the remote, and I pick the movie.”

Both girls groaned. “You always pick the boring old movies!” Rhiannon whined.

“Yeah!” Evie agreed.

“Then you better find something to agree on,” you said. The girls went back to bickering as you headed towards the kitchen, but you were stopped by a soft knocking at the door. You could tell who it was based on the fact they knew it was Ivy’s naptime.

You opened the front door to the sight of your best friend and Gareth’s wife, Rozalyn. You nearly burst into tears the second you saw her. She could tell, immediately reaching for you.

You let her embrace you, laying your head on her shoulder and letting the tears fall. She held you, rubbing your back and caressing your hair soothingly.

“It’s alright, babe,” she said softly. “Let it out.”

After you had cried on her shoulder for a few minutes, you stood back up, sniffling and wiping your eyes with your hand. “Sorry. That’s been a long time coming.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Roz said. “I’m your best friend. It’s what I’m here for.”

She followed you into the house. Back in the living room, Evie and Rhiannon had decided on The Haunted Mansion. They looked up as you walked in.

“Auntie Woz!” They both exclaimed, jumping up to tackle your friend with hugs. She laughed, hugging them back tightly. Her heart had been broken for the girls, having to be without their dad, but she was relieved to see they were doing okay.

Once the girls had jumped back onto the couch to watch their movie, you and Roz moved into the kitchen for some privacy. You made both of you some hot tea, handing Roz her mug when you were done.

“How are you holding up?” Roz asked, taking a sip of her hot drink.

“I’m…” you sighed. “I’m holding on, you know? It’s hard. The girls are a handful. They miss their dad. I miss their dad.”

Roz looked at you sympathetically, but not in the condescending kind of way you got from paparazzi and media. “I can imagine.”

“How is he?” You asked nervously, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer. You fiddled with one of your nails nervously.

“He…” Roz sighed. “The guys staged an intervention today.”

Your head snapped up to look in her direction. “Really? How did that go?”

Roz’s melancholy expression was enough of an answer even before she opened her mouth. “Not great. He got upset and stormed out. We don’t know where he went.”

You let out a rush of air, covering your face with your hands as you tried not to cry again. This was all so hard already, but you had been extra emotional with the added hormones from the pregnancy. Roz gently rubbed your arm as you calmed yourself. Once you were sure you weren’t going to burst into tears, you lowered your hands again. “He has nowhere else to go. Wherever he went, it couldn’t be good.”

Roz pursed her lips as she looked at you. “Yeah. I know.”

You sighed, hand absentmindedly moving to rub your stomach, the nonexistent baby bump. You already loved this new little one so much, you just wished Eddie was here. He was always so attentive during your pregnancies, and he loved seeing you pregnant, loved rubbing the belly and talking to his unborn child. That wouldn’t happen this time or ever again, you thought to yourself.

Roz didn’t miss the gesture. She eyed you suspiciously. “Babe…are you…?”

Your eyes darted to hers. You realized what you’d done immediately, a flush creeping into your skin. “Yeah. I’m 6 weeks.”

Roz’s eyes went wide. “Another one??”

You busted out laughing at that. “Oh my god. Yeah, another one.”

“Damn, girl. Three wasn’t enough?”

You laughed even harder. Roz and Gareth didn’t have any kids, didn’t want any, but they both loved your and Eddie’s girls with their whole hearts. “It was a surprise.”

“I’m getting you a box of condoms for your birthday.”

You shoved Roz in the shoulder, making her laugh, too. Things felt normal for the first time in months.

“Do the girls know?” She asked.

“I was waiting until I’m a little farther along,” you said. “Just in case something happens, you know?”

Roz nodded. She understood. You and Eddie had had a miscarriage in the past before Ivy was born, and it was really rough on you both and the girls. You still thought of it sometimes, what could have been if that baby had been born. This would have been baby number five in that case.

The thought of five kids made your head spin. Hell, even four was a lot to wrap your mind around.

You sat with your friend in the kitchen and talked for a few hours. It really did make you feel better. Roz always knew exactly what to say. And it had been so long since you had someone you could talk to about Eddie’s problems. At some point Ivy woke up, so you grabbed her from her crib and got her set up with a snack.

“It’s just…” you sighed, speaking quietly so Ivy wouldn’t overhear. “Like, I can’t explain what it’s like to watch the man you love turn into a stranger.” You wiped the tears away. “He was also so vibrant and fun. And this shit took that away. He’s not the same.”

Roz looked heartbroken for you. “Babe…”

“If a fucking nightmare. It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I just want my Eddie back.”

She listened to you vent as much as you needed to. It felt good to get it off your chest. You just wished your words could bring your husband back.

When Roz left, it was much later. You gave your friend a hug at the door, thanking her for coming and wishing her a safe drive home. By the time dinner was made and eaten, the sun had gone down and it was nearing bedtime.

Everyone got baths (except for Evie, who now preferred a shower). You got Rhiannon and Ivy dressed in their pajamas. You gave Evie and Rhiannon their goodnight kisses and tucked them into bed, then took Ivy to her room. You laid her in her toddler bed, reading a few bedtime stories and watching as she slowly started dozing off. You gave her a goodnight kiss on the top of the head then snuck out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind you.

This was the loneliest part of the night without Eddie. Typically if you had a night to yourself you would reach for a little wine, but obviously that wasn’t an option. You sat on the couch and turned the TV on, flipping to a rerun of House. You always liked that show.

As you watched, you started getting drowsy. You had just dozed off when you heard a pounding at your door. You jolted awake, noticing it had started pouring rain outside. You cautiously walked to the door, pulling it open and seeing a very pathetic looking, very wet Eddie in a heap on your porch.

You threw the door open wider. “Eddie, what the hell?”

Eddie was shivering. He looked like hell, looking up at you with big sad brown eyes. “Baby,” he said, his voice weak. It broke your heart.

“What’s going on? Where have you been? Roz said you left.”

“I…” He looked like he was struggling to find words. “I went to my dealer’s and got high, okay? But I realized something. I’m done. I’m done with all of this. I want you and the girls and the baby. I want to get clean, I want to go to rehab.”

Those were the words you’d been longing to hear for so long. You felt immense relief, reaching for Eddie and helping him up and into the house. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up. We’ll find a rehab in the morning, we’ll get you help.”

Eddie clung to you like a scared child as you brought him inside. He was shaking, and you weren’t sure if the wetness was only from the rain or if he was sweating, too. You had seen Eddie withdrawing enough times to know it was kicking in. He was high so often that it never took long.

You helped him bathe and got him set up in bed. You crawled in afterwards, wrapping your arms around his middle and holding him close, like he so often did to you. You were going to get through this. You were going to call rehabs in the morning and find Eddie the best one available. It was going to be okay.

You just hoped he was serious this time.

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[kysstar]

BURN FOR THE SPOTLIGHT | CHAPTER TWO : : RIVALRY NEVER DIES

pairing : : kang yeosang x idol!reader

series synopsis : : you and yeosang have been rivals since childhood—outsmarting, outshining, and outdoing each other at every turn. years later, just when you thought you were free, he shows up at KQ as a trainee. on camera, you're civil. off camera, it’s war all over again. but rivalry feels different now.

genre : : academic rivals to lovers, idol au

chapter warnings : : mentions of alcohol

word count : : 2.4k

[ series masterlist ]

—You never meant to become a trainee.

In fact, you could probably write a whole essay titled "The Many Reasons Why I Would Never Be a K-pop Idol." At the top of that list? You weren’t the type. Too loud. Too opinionated. And absolutely not the kind of person to spend hours perfecting a dance move when you could be sleeping or binge-watching dramas.

But life had other plans. And those plans started with karaoke and bad decisions.

It was your best friend’s birthday. Which meant drinks, singing off-key, and screaming your lungs out to second-gen hits in a tiny, overly decorated karaoke room.

You had been gone. Drunk off cheap soju, yelling the lyrics to Wonder Girls’ “So Hot” like it was your last performance on earth. Somewhere in between pretending you were the main vocalist of a nonexistent girl group and fake crying through a sad ballad, a man had stepped into the room.

You barely remembered him.

Just the vague image of him standing there in slacks and a half-unbuttoned shirt, holding some business card you couldn’t be bothered to read. He’d said something about “potential” and “audition” and “KQ Entertainment,” but you waved him off, too busy fighting for the mic with your friend.

“Cool story, man,” you had said, mid-song. “Go scout someone who can actually hit this high note.”

The next morning, your head was pounding.

Your phone buzzed with a new number and a message that read:

“Congratulations. You’ve been selected to join KQ Entertainment’s trainee program. Please report to the address below by Friday.”

You blinked. Then read it again.

“What the hell is KQ?”

Your friend nearly choked on her cereal. “BLOCK B’s company.”

“Okay... and?”

“ZICO used to be under KQ. ZICO. You have to go. For me.”

You laughed it off. “They probably got the wrong person. I was drunk, remember?”

“They heard you drunk and still want you. That’s either insane or you’re secretly talented.”

You weren’t convinced. But your friends? They staged a whole intervention.

“You literally hate school right now.”

“You have nothing to lose.”

“Just go for a day and ghost them if it’s weird.”

And so, against your better judgment, you went.

And it was… quiet.

Suspiciously quiet.

Where were the rooms packed with hopeful trainees? The hallways buzzing with nervous energy? You’d heard stories—other companies had floors filled with them. But here, the lobby was empty, the halls silent. You walked around, confused, until a staff member finally guided you to the training floor.

That’s when you met him.

Kim Hongjoong.

He was sitting cross-legged on the practice room floor, scribbling into a notebook, headphones in, completely absorbed in whatever track he was building.

He looked up as you entered. Paused. Then stood up so fast his notebook flew off his lap.

“Hi—! Are you a trainee?”

You blinked. “…Yeah. I think so?”

His face lit up like someone had turned on a switch inside him. “You’re new?”

You nodded slowly. “I just got in today.”

He practically beamed. “I’m Hongjoong. I’ve been here alone for—like, months. You’re the first person they brought in after me.”

He looked like he wanted to throw a welcome party on the spot.

From that moment on, you stuck together.

Hongjoong was your first friend in KQ. He showed you where everything was, how to check the schedule board, when Eden usually came in for training sessions, what to eat from the vending machines when lunch breaks got skipped.

You weren’t used to the schedule yet. Dance at 9 a.m. Vocals at 12. More dance. Then monitoring. Practice rooms stayed open late—sometimes until midnight—and Hongjoong? He’d still be there. So, you stayed too.

You didn’t know why at first. Maybe it was guilt—he really had been alone for months. But slowly, it became something else.

The two of you trained together under Eden, side by side. Hongjoong was serious about it. Focused. He had this hunger in him, like he had something to prove. And you? You had no idea what you were doing. But Hongjoong never made you feel behind.

He’d stay after hours to help you polish your choreo. Show you how to project in the vocal room without blowing out your throat. He laughed when you fell, encouraged you when you nailed something.

Sometimes you’d sneak out together during breaks—nothing wild, just grabbing snacks from a convenience store down the block or sitting on the rooftop with hot drinks, legs swinging off the edge as you talked about anything but training. Music, family, stupid memes. The pressure was suffocating some days. But it helped, having someone who understood it exactly the way you did.

The thing about the entertainment industry was that nothing was guaranteed. One minute, you were training to debut as KQ’s first female soloist. The next minute? Everything was gone.

You still remembered the way the company sat you down, the way they told you, in the most business-like tone, that the project was being terminated.

Not postponed. Not restructured. Terminated.

Just like that, years of hard work went up in smoke.

You had been so close. And now, you had nothing.

Hongjoong had found you later that day, plopping down next to you on the floor of the practice room. He didn’t say anything at first, just passed you a can of soda.

Then, after a long silence, “You’re not gonna quit, right?”

You exhaled. “Should I?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. But you’re too good to waste this.”

You stared down at the can in your hands. “There’s nothing left, Joong.”

“There will be.”

—You had almost gotten used to it. Almost enjoyed the peace.

KQ had become your second home—the kind that exhausted you, challenged you, and sometimes made you want to scream into a pillow, but still, home. You liked the quiet, the tight-knit feel. Just a few trainees working in the same dusty rooms with the same scuffed mirrors and overworked speakers. You knew the schedule, the staff, the vending machine that always jammed when you needed it most. And for a while, it felt like you were part of something small but steady.

Then came the announcement: new batch of trainees.

The first one was Yunho. You remembered him clearly—tall, bright, loud in the best way. He had a smile that made people relax, even when they were sweating through choreography. He introduced himself like he’d been waiting for this his whole life. Said “nice to meet you” with both hands clasped and eyes shining like it wasn’t just a formality.

Then came a few more. You didn’t memorize all their names at first, but you remembered Hongjoong talking about one of them—Mingi. Apparently, he and Yunho knew each other from before. “He’s got stage presence,” Hongjoong had said. “And confidence. Like, dangerous confidence.”

As the weeks passed, the halls got louder. The lunch table filled up. You finally had other girls to train with. It was weird, having people in the changing rooms again. Having someone to talk to about the hell that was cardio Fridays.

The instructors started asking older trainees to help the new ones settle in. Minji, your dorm partner, got assigned a guy named San—small, scrawny boy, endless energy. She came back from his building tour half in love and half exhausted.

So when your name was called to introduce another new trainee, you had felt a sense of pride. This meant the company recognized your hard work. It meant you were someone they trusted.

But then, Instructor Yang casually mentioned that the new trainee had come from Bighit.

You blinked in surprise. That wasn’t something you heard every day. Unlike KQ, Bighit was an established company, home to one of the biggest groups in the industry. If a trainee had transferred from there, they had to be good.

You felt a flicker of curiosity. Why would someone leave Bighit to come here? What kind of person was talented enough to train under such a powerhouse, yet willing to start over at a much smaller company? You didn’t know, but for the first time in a while, you were genuinely interested in meeting someone new.

That excitement lasted exactly five minutes.

The moment you stepped into Instructor Yang’s office and saw him, everything around you seemed to freeze. Your breath caught in your throat. Your body locked up. Your mind short-circuited.

Kang Yeosang.

You hadn’t seen him in years—not since graduation day, when he had walked across the stage, accepted his diploma, and vanished from your life. No more competing test scores. No more petty fights. No more constant one-upping each other. You had thought you were free.

And yet, here he was. Standing in front of you once again.

Yeosang looked just as shocked as you, his sharp eyes widening the second they landed on your face. His lips parted slightly like he was about to say something, but nothing came out. You doubted he even remembered how to speak in that moment.

“This is Kang Yeosang,” Instructor Yang’s voice broke through the silence, though it felt like a distant echo. “He’s transferring from Bighit to train under KQ. Since you’re one of our most experienced trainees, we’d like you to show him around, introduce him to the others, and help him adjust to the environment.”

Your jaw clenched. You wanted to refuse. You wanted to tell Instructor Yang that someone else—anyone else—could do it. Maybe Hongjoong. Hongjoong was great with new trainees, great at making people feel comfortable. He could handle it.

But then, reality hit you like a slap in the face.

You were close to debuting. So close. The company had been hinting that you'd be debuting as a soloist. You had worked for years to get to this point. If you wanted to secure your spot, you couldn’t risk anything—not even something as simple as rejecting a tour.

So, instead of saying what you truly wanted to say, you swallowed back your pride. You forced your lips into a small, controlled smile, ignoring the way your stomach twisted in protest.

“Understood.”

The moment you stepped out of Instructor Yang’s office with Yeosang trailing behind you, you already regretted everything.

You could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating, like the universe itself was laughing at your suffering. Of all the people KQ could have brought in, of all the trainees you could have been assigned to, it just had to be Kang Yeosang.

You barely glanced at him as you started walking down the hallway, your pace brisk. “I’m only doing this because I have to,” you muttered under your breath. “So keep up.”

Yeosang scoffed lightly behind you. “Didn’t realize you were so excited to see me again.”

You almost stopped in your tracks just to glare at him. Instead, you tightened your jaw and ignored him, leading him toward the first stop of the tour.

“The practice rooms,” you announced flatly, pushing open a door to reveal one of the smaller training spaces. “This is where you’ll be spending most of your time. Vocal training, dance practice, self-evaluations. Pretty much your second home, unless you’re planning on slacking off.”

Yeosang stepped inside, glancing around. “Bighit’s were bigger.”

Your grip on the doorknob tightened. “Well, you’re not in Bighit anymore, are you?”

He smirked at that, clearly enjoying the way your voice tensed. “Guess not.”

You ignored him again and kept walking, not even waiting to see if he followed. If he got lost, oh well.

“This is the main dance studio,” you continued, pushing open another door. This one was a lot larger, with full-length mirrors lining the walls and speakers set up in the corners. You crossed your arms and turned to him. “We use this for group evaluations. If you suck, everyone sees. No pressure.”

Yeosang chuckled, stepping inside. “You still talk too much.”

You shot him a glare. “And you still have an ego the size of a stadium.”

He grinned. “Good to know nothing’s changed.”

You really had to fight the urge to throw your shoe at him. Instead, you turned sharply on your heel and kept moving. “This way.”

The next stop was the vocal room, a small space with a single piano and a setup for recording. “You’ll be doing monthly vocal assessments here,” you explained. “But I doubt you’ll have much of an issue, since you probably think you’re great at everything.”

Yeosang raised an eyebrow. “Why? You worried I’ll score higher than you?”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, please. I’ve been training here for years. You’re new. You have catching up to do.”

Yeosang tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “We’ll see.”

God, you wanted to wipe that expression right off his face.

As you continued the tour, you begrudgingly led him through the trainee lounge, the cafeteria, and the small recording booths. Each time, you kept your explanations brief, not because you were trying to be efficient, but because you refused to let him think you cared about helping him.

When you reached the rooftop—one of the only peaceful places in the building—you hesitated.

You almost didn’t want to show it to him. The rooftop was where you and Hongjoong would sometimes escape when things got too overwhelming, when the pressure of training became suffocating. It was your space.

Yeosang noticed your pause. “Something wrong?”

You sighed, pushing open the door. “This is the rooftop. People come here when they need a breather. Not an invitation for you to follow me up here whenever you feel like it.”

He stepped out onto the rooftop, looking around. The city lights stretched far in the distance, the breeze cool against the night sky. He shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing at you. “Didn’t think you’d still be here after all these years.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the railing. “Well, I’m not a quitter.”

He hummed, leaning beside you. “Never said you were.”

You turned to him, narrowing your eyes. “Why are you here, Yeosang?”

He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze drifted out toward the skyline, his usual cocky smirk fading into something unreadable.

“…Bighit wasn’t for me,” he finally said.

You frowned, caught off guard by the honesty in his tone. Yeosang never admitted weakness. Never showed anything beyond confidence and arrogance.

For a brief moment, you almost felt… something. Not sympathy, but curiosity.

But then he turned back to you, smirk returning. “Figured I’d come here and make your life hell instead.”

And just like that, whatever momentary softness you felt vanished.

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder as you pushed off the railing. “You already are hell, Kang. Let’s go. I still have to show you the dorms, and I’d rather get this over with today.”

God help KQ. The war had started again.

© kysstar

taglist : : @yoonbroom @charlie-xo @xionarauwu

[plasmara]

currently on vacation and thinking about how unhinged the team would be in a hotel. the beach is cool or whatever but imagining this is doing way more for me so u all have to know about it now too

i think jay absolutely reverts to being a kid in hotels. like coz he didn’t get to do this kind of thing growing upso now he’s throwing himself into the whole experience. insists on being the first one into the room and immediately claims “his” bed . And it’s always somehow the worst one and everyone’s like ? we weren’t gonna fight u for that one buddy. he uses all the tiny soaps. he loves those weird little plastic desserts from the buffet that look like edible art and taste like nothing. he inhales four at a time (someone stop him!!!!!!) he also orders room service just to say he did. fully living his best life. he also befriends the cleaning staff within 24 hours and leaves them origami animals and thank u notes. he gets especially close to one older woman who reminds him of his mom and hugs her like he’s known her his whole life when they check out. they’re definitely facebook friends now

nya and kai also didn’t grow up doing hotel stuff, but they go about it in very different ways:

nya acts like she’s been dropped into an unfamiliar battlefield with no map. unpacks the second she walks in. scans the room like she’s inspecting a mission site. sits on the edge of the bed and Absolutely does not know how to relax. jay has to stage a 3-step intervention just to get her horizontal and watching trash TV. she complains at first—“this is brain rot, jay”—and then ten minutes later she’s yelling at the screen like, “OH my god she’s lying, that’s not even his baby!” (it’s an episode of “Are You the Father?” and she is INVESTED). jay looks so smug it’s disgusting. once she finally gives in to the hotel experience, jay assumes she’s gonna, like, chill out—maybe nap, but instead she fully loses her mind over the little activities hotels set up. darts, ping pong, weird lobby trivia nights—she’s there early, stretching, asking what the first place prize is. darts with her is a full-contact sport. she talks trash, she throws bullseyes, she intimidates other guests. the staff are weirdly scared of her but too impressed to stop her. jay just sits there holding her mimosa like “sorry not sorry this is my wife and i support her no matter what.” AND YES she’s absolutely obsessed with the breakfast mimosas. swears she’s “just taste-testing” but she’s tipsy by 9am and calling it research. jay’s her self-appointed assistant and takes it very seriously

and kai….. oh kai’s on his ross from friends arc. absolutely determined to get his money’s worth. he takes five showers a day. uses every single towel. drinks all the in-room coffee pods “just to test them.” takes the bathroom robe. takes the hanger the robe was on. takes the complimentary flip-flops and the laundry bag too. then stashes the sewing kit in his luggage like it’s a souvenir. he’s also fully dressed, zipped up, and sitting on the edge of the bed by 10:58am but refuses to leave a minute before checkout. silliest part is he’s not even the one who paid for the room

zane makes a whole itinerary the second they arrive. no one follows it. he pretends not to be disappointed. still gently asks if anyone wants to accompany him to the fitness center. no one does. eventually lloyd goes because he feels bad. zane considers this a win. also tries every single hotel amenity out of respect. leaves a review when they check out—not just a rating, noooooo he’s committed so its a fully formatted document. paragraphs. bullet points. hyperlinks. includes detailed notes on the water pressure and the “emotional tone of the lobby lighting.” gets the names of all the staff so he can thank them properly. two weeks later they send him a thank-you email and a gift card

lloyd’s obviously right there with jay, riding the high of free breakfast and hallway chaos. they’re up at 5:50am for the continental breakfast like it’s a red carpet premiere. standing in front of the buffet watching the staff set up, whispering like “okay i’ll hit the waffles first, you go for the muffins.” tag-team energy. he also spends half the day in the pool. makes friends with a group of kids and helps them build a pool noodle obstacle course. gives out nicknames. teaches one of them how to do a front flip. gets invited to dinner by their mom and yes he goes he feels Bad turning it down

cole ALSO loves the pool, but in a completely different way. he alternates between going absolutely feral doing competitive laps (he and kai have an ongoing bet about who can swim the most without dying and they’re both taking it Extremely seriously even tho there’s nothing actually on the line? no prize no consequences and the idiots didn’t even shake on it) and switching to full relaxation mode. like shirt half-off, sunglasses on, sprawled out on a sun-bed with three snacks and some hotel drink with a tiny umbrella. no in-between. he burns through 800 calories in the water and then eats double that in chips ten minutes later. calls it balance. and goes without saying that he treats the hotel buffet like a blood sport. says stuff like “i’m not leaving ‘til i break even” and they all laugh but he’s being dead Serious. stacks his plates like a construction site. takes food back to the room in napkins. 100% the one who suggests bringing tupperware “just in case.” gets caught trying to stuff pastries into a travel mug and just goes “uh. i thought this was a self-serve situation?” no one buys it. doesn’t matter. he’s already out the door

[lance-space-mommy]

Ready To Quit

Becoming a teacher was not on Midoriya’s list of to do’s when he was a child. The only thing running through his mind was becoming a pro hero. After losing his quirk and feeling the remaining embers slip away, he did everything in his power to avoid acknowledging how devastated he truly was.

 So, when Aizawa made the proposal to work at UA High, Midoriya was surprised that he didn’t have to try as hard to be okay with the new career path.

After spending his entire childhood bullied by his teachers for being quirkless, Midoriya knew he wanted to be the saving grace for many young and impressionable teens. He sure as hell needed Toshinori and Aizawa to get him through his first year at UA.

As graduation quickly arrived and passed, Midoriya was already preparing for the next chapter of his life. Every single college Midoriya applied to, he received an acceptance letter. Surprised they still accepted him despite his quirkless status, he took it as a sign and was ready to succeed. Considering his classmates were going to be busy with being sidekicks and interns for a while, Midoriya needed distractions.

Excelling in school was an obsession Midoriya had no problem falling back into. Before meeting All Might, focusing on school was a good distraction from his fate as a quirkless person. Now because that fate is a reality, why not go back to old habits?

School was officially his life; he had no issue embracing it. He decided to major in education and hero studies. He minored in quirk biology and psychology. 

Despite his friends being busy, Aizawa and Toshinori were two people Midoriya stayed in touch with happily. They often would meet for lunch and small catchups. Midoriya and Toshinori already had an unbreakable bond, but the one he formed with Aizawa was unexpected but welcomed.

There were days when Midoriya knew it would be more harm than good to stay cooped up in his room and would ask Aizawa if he could come over. Eri was older so she’d often stay nearby Midoriya doing whatever she wanted. Midoriya would bring over coffees and a small dessert for Eri.

Bakugo and Midoriya stayed in close contact as well. Unfortunately, their conversations were scarce because Bakugo was working himself to the bone. No matter how much Midoriya expressed his worries, Bakugo dismissed the concern and continued the way he was going.

Ignoring Bakugo, Midoriya would often make him bentos and leave it in the blonde’s mailbox because that was the one place Bakugo checked religiously for some odd reason. He’d get five messages back-to-back, each written in all caps. Midoriya would smile warmly at his phone before stepping into his first class of the day.

That process repeated his entire four years in college. As time passed, his classmates reached out a bit more. They were getting comfortable in their schedules, and many were finally out of the early hero stage and working as a respectable pro hero in their desired agencies.

Sure, a part of him was bitter at the extreme loss of contact. Bakugo was far busier than most of his classmates and still found the time to text or send a message or picture. In the end, Midoriya wasn’t too hung up on it and the loss of a familial bond wasn’t as painful after making some new friends in college.

As he began his teaching career, he knew this was where he was meant to be. Sure, becoming a hero and saving people to defeat the villain was ideal, but he was training a ton of people to do that every day. It was a wonderful feeling.

Aizawa was always up his ass, telling him to be harsher on the students to weed out those who will take advantage of Midoriya’s kindness. Stupidity wasn’t a good enough reason for Midoriya to expel someone. His punishments often came later when their training rolled around.

Those who crossed him usually feared doing so again.

Midoriya also sent a lot of the students to Hound Dog. Students held emotional and mental baggage that Midoriya could help with, but sometimes big interventions were needed. Hound Dog had reached out to Midoriya on numerous occasions wanting to know how the students were doing. They built a pretty good bond as coworkers for the greater good of the students.

Raising the next generation of heroes was intimidating, but highly rewarding. It was a big responsibility, and these students needed to know how to cope with their own problems on top of the ethical and moral troubles they would be forced to acknowledge in their journey.

Occasionally, he’d have class sessions dedicated to students asking him questions about his short time as a hero. He talked a lot about those he saved, the villains he’d met and changed, and how he dealt with the realization that their hero-based society wasn’t black and white.

Villains and heroes came in shades of grey. The students enjoyed those days when they got to hear about their young teachers' experience as a hero. It was also nice to know their teacher understood exactly what they were going through. Despite the hell Midoriya and his class had gone through, Midoriya made it clear no problem they faced was any less worthy of praise or worry.

Each teacher's way of educating was different as UA gave them free reign of how classes were taught. In the end, the second-year teachers were impressed with the progress of their new students made. Aizawa’s teaching method worked just as much as Midoriya’s teaching method worked.

When Midoriya was given a list of his next group of students, the excitement was just as high as it was his first time around. If anything, Midoriya felt more confident in his teaching abilities.

After he had a reunion with the rest of his classmates, the reveal of his hero suit, and the offer to join Bakugo’s agency, class 1-A was back and better than ever. Yet Midoriya was left trying to incorporate hero work into his busy teaching schedule. Aizawa even offered tips on how to get things done which was appreciated.

Just as the group was coming back to Midoriya, Midoriya had to withdraw. He appreciated everything they did to get him the hero suit, but now that hero patrols were inserted into his schedule, nearly all his free time was ripped from his hands and thrown in the trash.

The roles switched and Bakugo was now leaving bento boxes in the fridge of the teacher’s lounge. Even worse, Bakugo kept showing up to Midoriya’s class. Many days Midoriya would kick him out, on others Midoriya would drag the blond into the lesson.

One calm day of classes, Midoriya chatted with his class that if word got out that Bakugo was helping students at UA, his hero rating may improve. The students plotted ever since to leak of video of him helping out.

It was a peaceful day and Midoriya wanted to give them a bit of a boost from the hellish training he’d given them the day before. He gave them twenty minutes to write a poem about their time at UA. Then they’d present their poems and if time was left over, they could ask him questions.

Halfway through presentations, a large group from class 1-A decided to come over for a surprise visit since it was one of the rare times they were off on the same day. Many were eager to see Midoriya in his element, unaware that today was supposed to be a recovery day for the students.

Loud cheering came out of nowhere, causing Uraraka and Tsuyu to jump. Kaminari and Kirishima paused where they were and shared a confused look. Bakugo was unimpressed and far from surprised. Todoroki on the other hand was already reaching for the door, but his hand was quickly stopped by Mina and Sero.

“Wait a second, let’s crack the door first to see if we are interrupting something important,” whispered Sero, scooching to the entrance of the door.

Many of the heroes huddled around as Mina slowly pulled open the door. No one in the classroom seemed to have been paying attention because the cheering continued.

Midoriya was standing front and center in a nice suit with his hair pinned back in All Might themed hair clips. He was clasping his hands together with his eyes closed. “Ubukata… do not make me regret this.”

The class erupted into laughter again. Everyone standing by the door looked at Midoriya, growing more confused and entertained by what could be happening. Nonetheless, it was clear the class adored Midoriya with the way every teen was eagerly waiting for something to happen.

“I’m on a whole ‘nother level. Girl he only fucked you over cause you let him,” read Ubukata with way too much confidence.

The room remained eerily silent, Midoriya staring long and hard at the class clown. Everyone in that room was adorable and beyond charming even if some were more antisocial or aggressive than others.

“What… the hell… are you talking about right now? Maybe I should quit,” responded Midoriya slowly, beginning to scare those in the classroom. No one dared to say a word and Ubukata looked about ready to pass out or puke. Suddenly Midoriya rolled his eyes. “If you were going to just use song lyrics as your poem you could have just made it longer to win the prize.”

“No!” shouted Ubukata in defeat, falling to his knees.

All tension in the room vanished as small conversations picked up again. Midoriya looked at his list, smiling at what he saw. “On a more serious note, remember that you all are here to become heroes. If you have any criticism of how I teach my class or have any concerns about your place here, let me know. I’m sure many of you are excluding a lot of important opinions because these are being presented in front of your friends. Now, who wants to go next?”

Mina slowly closed the door again, her dropped jaw motionless as she turned around to see she wasn’t the only one completely flabbergasted at what she’d just seen.

The group shuffled down the hall a bit before Kaminari broke the silence with a whine. “Why couldn't Midoriya be our teacher?”

Smiling softly at the closed door, Todoroki sighed, “I’m just happy to see he wasn’t lying when he told us he enjoys working here as a teacher.”

Nodding slowly, coming out of his shocked daze, Kirishima agreed, “For sure. Those kids are obsessed with him! Even Kota looked mortified when Midoriya said he should quit.”

Uraraka let out some stiffled laughter, shaking her head to herself. “I’m more shocked he’s openly cursing and joking around with them. You’d think he’d want to establish authority with his class to set a good example.”

“I don’t see the harm in it. Our time at UA High wasn’t cupcakes and rainbows. I’m sure that hasn’t changed,” disagreed Bakugo, not appreciating how Uraraka was poking fun at Midoriya’s teaching style even if it wasn’t that serious.

Tsuyu, reading the room with ease, diffused Bakugo’s anger and critiqued Uraraka’s attitude. “It’s nice to see Midoriya while he’s teaching. We have no context of what is going on in that room currently or why Midoriya decided to have this activity. I’m sure he’s a great teacher and he’s passionate about his job and the students.”

Mina picked up on what Tsuyu was trying to do. “For sure! It’s always nice to have a break from the hustle and bustle of life.”

“Never say that again,” remarked Sero, wearing a wide grin.

“Whatever,” huffed Mina, looking away towards the door.

Bakugo, reflected on his recent conversations with Midoriya. “I know Izuku planned a quirk exertion test for the brats so he’s probably giving them a day to recover.”

Appreciating some context, Kirishima shivered dramatically. “Quirk exertion test with Midoriya as the teacher. I’m surprised any of them are still alive.”

Feeling a bit sheepish about her poor attempt of conversating, Uraraka pitched in, “Maybe having him as the teacher is for the best. He is great at analyzing quirks and their drawbacks. Out of all the teachers in the school a test like that would be executed safest by Deku.”

As they all rambled about what they’d seen, Midoriya being a teacher, and how Ubukata scarily reminds them of Kaminari, the bell rang. They all perked up, ready to show themselves to Midoriya. Bakugo took the lead, throwing open the door while the students were still packing up.

“Kacchan,” greeted Midoriya with a softness in his voice that the students weren’t surprised by.

Many greeted Bakugo with a knowing smile or disgusted look before heading out to leave. Only the group stopped when seven other pro heroes walked in like it was nothing. As the group of students started to squeal and gawk at the group, Midoriya seemed unphased despite their presence being a complete surprise.

“Hey guys, what brings you here?” asked Midoriya calmly, walking over to stand next to Bakugo.

“Wanted to visit you man! We all had a random day off and decided to come together,” admitted Kirishima with an energy Midoriya knew he’d always enjoy.

“Freeze,” announced Midoriya loudly, pulling out his phone, sending a quick text, and returning his focus back on the group. “I need to go for five minutes. Since you didn’t give me a heads up, my students can stay back and ask you questions. I’ll be quick, promise!”

Midoriya left the room, leaving the pro heroes stranded with the students of their close friend. All seemed well, the group moved to the front of the room as the students put their bags down to get their questions in.

Hands flew into the air. Mina took the honor of picking the first student to ask a question. After a quick whisper was exchanged with Bakugo, she pointed and called out. “Terumoto!”

The boy whose face was covered in scars was surprised he was called on. Lowering his hand, he knew exactly what he wanted to ask. “I swear we are all being lied to so… is Dynamight and Midoriya sensei dating?”

“Are they what?” screeched the group of pro heroes. Bakugo looked more annoyed than anything else.

Meanwhile, Midoriya was snickering as he lit his cigarette on the roof of the building. “Suckers.”

[ladyveravincent]

What are your thoughts on the Helion/Lady of the Autumn Court love story?

Hi anon! ��

So. Many. Thoughts.

Before I step onto my soap box, this is my headcannon: the often foreshadowed, ominous Blood Duel (that most certainly will be happening) will be Helion dueling Beron for the Lady of the Autumn Court. I sincerely hope they have a happy ending.

But! Onto my musings. Buckle up... I fear I wrote a research paper.

Helion and the Lady of the Autumn Court's relationship symbolizes a decision many characters in ACOTAR face: to choose love or duty. While their love story is star-crossed, they also are a foil to many characters and couples.

After the High Lord's meeting, Feyre learns of their affair, which took place for a few years after he rescued her during Hybern's war. He recounts to Feyre how he saved her, and doing so in a rather barbaric, animalistic way.

"I tore the beasts apart with my bare hands." A chill slid down {Feyre's} spine, 'Why?" He could have ended it a thousand other ways. Easier ways. Cleaner ways. Rhys's bloody hands after the Ravens' attack flashed through my mind. (pg. 453, ACOWAR)

This reaction, which Feyre deems excessive, is followed by the mention of Rhysand's reaction to the Ravens'. Why think of Rhys in this moment? This is intentional, because who is Rhys to Feyre? Mates.

Very clearly, SJM tells us Helion's reaction is not normal, rather aligning with how mates behave. We are meant to infer Lady of the Autumn Court and Helion are mates.

While LofA's abuse and dissociative behavior is evident to everyone around her, Feyre berates Helion for not rescuing his lover.

A furious Helion responds:

"Beron is a High Lord, and she is his wife, mother of his brood. She chose to stay. Chose. And with the protocols and rules, Lady, you will find that most situations like the one you were in do not end well for those who interfere." (pg. 455, ACOWAR)

Feyre continues to push, furious with Helion, but he silences her on the matter. Why would Feyre be so furious with Helion for not rescuing LofA?

Because she was in the exact same situation with Tamlin a book ago. Without her mate's intervention, Feyre would not have had the courage to make the choice to leave.

In this moment, Helion and Lady of Autumn's relationship shows us what could have happened if Feyre chose to stay with Tamlin.

Because, as Helion reminds us, it was the Lady of Autumn's choice to stay with Beron.

Helion gave Lady Autumn a choice, just like Rhys gave Feyre a choice. It might hard for Feyre to understand given what she endured in MAF, but there are many reasons as to why the Lady of Autumn would stay. Her sons, societal limitations, and responsibility.

But, as Mor reminds us:

"I heard a rumor once, Helion, that she waited before agreeing to that marriage. For a certain someone who had met her by chance at an equinox ball the year before." (page 454, WAR)

Woah. Sound familiar? (Calanmai I whisper)

But Helion responds:

"Interesting. I heard her family wanted international ties to power, and that they didn't give her a choice before they sold her to Beron." (page 454, WAR).

So, why have Mor bring this up? Because she too was sold into marriage, and not just to anyone, but to the Lady of the Autumn Court's first son, the icon, the baddie, Eris (love youuu).

What did Eris do? Born from an unhappy, arranged union, he did what could not have been done for his mother, and freed Mor (questionably so, but still freed her), from their union.

In this moment, we are shown Eris and Mor's relationship could have been like the Lady of the Autumn Court and Beron's.

But Eris decided not to be like his father. He let Mor choose.

And let's not forget who rescued Mor from Autumn Court- Azriel. This is significant- but bear with me before I return to this point in a moment.

So, within two pages, another son from the Autumn Court takes center stage: the beloved, sassy Lucien. Feyre realizes he was born from Helion and Lady of Autumn's affiar.

This insane plot twist, and Prythian's greatest paternity scandal, lets us know Lucien's father is a spell-cleaver. Then, while thinking on the extent of Lucien's powers, Feyre delivers this iconic line:

"A bird of flame... and a lord of fire. I wondered if they'd found each other yet." (page 457, ACOWAR).

For nearly five pages, we've heard about love and loveless unions, and when Lucien is mentioned, someone else is notably not.

His mate, Elain.

Rather, Vassa, who at this moment is referred to as the enchanted queen, is not just mentioned, but is done so in a way that compliments the newfound powers Lucien possesses as Helion's son.

Bells, darlings, bells!

Then, after this moment, Nesta barges in. She's upset, sensing a terrible omen. Cassian (her mate), heeds her concern, and validates her worries. In this moment, SJM illustrates classic mate behavior.

Then, Mor is shown flirting with Helion (uh oh, hook up time!). This prompts a very long conversation about the Cassian, Mor, and Azriel love triangle. Rhys speaks on Azriel's unrequited love for Mor, saying Az's explosion at the High Lord's meeting stems from his guilt about what transpired all those years ago with Eris.

But, interestingly enough, Rhys tells Feyre:

“There will come a day when Azriel has to decide if he is going to fight for her or let her go. And it won’t be because some other male insults her or beds her.” “And what about Cassian? He’s entangled—and enabling this nonsense.” A wry smile. “Cassian is going to have to decide some things, too. In the near future, I think.” “Are he and Nesta …?” “I don’t know. Until the bond snaps into place, it can be hard to detect.” (page 460, ACOWAR)

Here, Cassian is immediately removed from their love triangle, and is attached to Nesta as his possible mate, which is confirmed in Silver Flames. This leaves Mor and Azriel.

So why have Mor sleep with Helion in this chapter? Later on in WAR, Mor comes out to Feyre, confirming she cannot be with Azriel because she prefers females. But why, after a conversation on Helion's love for the Lady of the Autumn Court and Lucien's paternity, would he and Mor sleep together?

To foreshadow (no pun, but I'm very proud) her relationship with Azriel is not going to happen. There is a theme here- choice. Whether one chooses their heart or their duty, Helion and Lady of Autumn's love story shines a light on each character's choices in love, whether good, bad, or indifferent.

Ironically, not all choices were made because of a mating bond. Rather, we are given an array of circumstances where choice prevails, but it is the rejection of love that causes unhappiness.

Which leads me to the final thing Helion and Lady of Autumn's relationship demonstrates:

If Eris, a foil to Beron, let Mor go, then Lucien, a foil to Helion, will also have to let Elain make a decision regarding their mating bond.

In this moment, Helion and the Lady of Autumn's relationship reiterates the importance of a female's right to choose.

Elain wilts in Lucien's presence. And as Rhys reminds Feyre, Mor is frightened by Azriel's outburst of anger (she gets "spooked" when he shows the scope of his grief-fueled powers). Mor has the right to reject Azriel. The same sentiment stands for Elain and Lucien.

Could Azriel and Mor be mates? There is evidence this could be true. But, there's also evidence Azriel has a connection to Elain. This is established much earlier in WAR, when his recognition of her mysterious powers cures Elain from her vision, the contents of which, send Lucien on his voyage to none other than, Vassa.

Which, given Feyre's observation in this chapter, Lucien's powers and journey as a character are tied to Vassa, rather than Elain. This is confirmed through Lucien's choice to stay with the Band of Exiles, and remain in the Human Lands, even during Silver Flames.

So, with the old love triangles echoing the new ones, who remains?

Elain and Azriel. There's so many scenes alone in WAR connecting them romantically and through their abilities as a Seer and Shadowsinger.

In a fic I wrote, I used the Lady of the Autumn Court as a foil to Elain's choice regarding her mating bond with Lucien. The Lady of the Autumn Court and Helion were in love. While there are strong indicators they are mates, they more importantly love each other.

Lucien, often referred as his mother's favorite son, would never force a female to be with him because of an arrangement, whether Cauldron or Court ordained.

This sentiment is echoed through Feyre and Rhys's discussion on Tamlin and his lingering love for Feyre. The High Lady ends this chapter driven by choice with these words:

“It feels strange, to share a room, a bed, with you under the same roof as him.” “I can imagine.” For somewhere in this palace, Tamlin was lying in bed—well aware that I was about to enter this one with Rhysand. The past tangled and snarled, and I whispered, “I don’t think—I don’t think I can have sex here. With him so close.” Rhys remained quiet. “I’m sorry if—” “You don’t need to apologize. Ever.” I looked up, finding his gaze on me—not angry or frustrated, but … sad. Knowing. “I want to share this bed with you, though,” I breathed. “I want you to hold me.” Stars flickered to life in his eyes. “Always,” he promised, kissing my brow, his wings now enveloping me completely. “Always.” (page 462, ACOWAR).

Even within an established mating bond, Rhys, a foil to Helion, allows Feyre, a foil to the Lady of Autumn, a choice while her former lover dwells within those very walls. I like to imagine, just like Rhys and Feyre, Helion and Lady of Autumn stood on a balcony, speaking in hushed whispers, looking up at the stars.

But, unlike the Lady of Autumn, Feyre chooses love, not duty.

It's not Feyre's mate bond that makes her happy, its her love for Rhys. As SJM so often does, Feyre and Rhys show what a truly happy mating bond looks like, and its no coincidence, the female's choice is at the forefront of their relationship.

So I end this crazy long post with this: love does conquer all, even a mating bond.

[sturnboos]

CHAPTER 2 - ready to make money?

you woke up the next morning with a sore neck, tangled in sheets you don't even remember when you fell asleep and a single persistent thought in your brain Was last night real?

The headset still sat on your nightstand, quietly pulsing blue. Like it was waiting for you. You didn't even hesitate this time. You slipped it on like a second skin.

A rush of wind and light, and suddenly you were back in your lakeside cabin. The windows shimmered with morning sunlight your place was still empty as you hadn't made any in game money yet you only had basic stuff like a bed and the outfit you where currently wearing, their was also an empty shelf in the corner of your room. suddenly a notification popped up in the corner of your vision.

You accept smiling.

"Morning, newbie!" Chris grinned as his avatar flickered into your living room via a glowing portal. "Ready to make some money?"

You blinked. "i think?"

Nick and Matt popped in through the portal right after, both already mid conversation like this was just a normal Tuesday. "She's gotta do some of the challenges" Matt said, adjusting his camo hat and scrolling through his interface. "You can't live in a cabin with default furniture, that's criminal."

"Agreed," nick added, smirking. "We're staging a digital intervention. Step one get you some game creds."

You followed them through a portal into the Quest Hub, a massive floating island shaped like a coliseum mixed with an arcade. Screens flashed with challenge boards, offering missions for various amounts of payouts. Some were solo, others team based. A few had tiny disclaimers like "May result in spontaneous pixel combustion" which Chris immediately pointed at with interest. you assume that just meant those levels where glitchy, or deadly to your characters.

"Let's start easy" Nick said, dragging you toward one of the many glowing boards. "Memory march? we’re pretty familiar with that and at the moment it seems that’s the easiest one that’s available" nick says clicking on each of their usernames on the board before hitting play.

the four of us loaded into the challenge zone. At first glance, it looked empty just an endless void beneath us and a narrow starting platform suspended in the air.

“This doesn’t look so bad,” I said, squinting at the nothingness ahead. “Kind of peaceful.”

Chris snorted. “You’re about to change your mind.”

“Welcome to Memory March!” the game’s voice echoed around us. “This challenge requires precision, teamwork, and an excellent short-term memory. In a moment, the path will be revealed for twenty seconds. After that the path will go Invisible. If you win you’ll each gain 2,000 credits”

I glanced down again. There was nothing but darkness below. The void looked…deep. Too deep.

“but anyone who falls off will lose 2,000 credits from their account… if you don’t have any credits yet you will be 2,000 in debt” the voice added cheerfully. “Good luck!”

My eyes went wide. “TWO THOUSAND?!”

Matt stepped closer and leaned toward me slightly. “Don’t worry, we won’t let you fall.”

Nick gave a confident nod. “We’ve done this before. Just follow our voices. We’ll walk you through it.”

“Path reveal in 3… 2… 1…”

A glowing golden trail sparked into existence in front of us twisting, narrow, hovering over gaps and sudden turns. My stomach dropped. It wasn’t a straight line. It looked like someone had let a toddler draw it.

“Oh this is rude” I muttered, trying to memorize the sharp zig-zags.

“I’ll call lefts and rights,” Nick said quickly. “Matt will walk ahead of you for pace. Chris is behind in case you panic.”

“I’m not gonna panic,” I said.

“Good. Because the path disappears in 3… 2… 1…”

A white Flash lit up the room then gone. Darkness. The glowing trail had vanished, and we were left standing on an empty platform with a terrifying amount of nothing all around. “Step forward now,” Matt said calmly. “Two steps.” I moved. “Now angle left just a little. Like two degrees left.”

“Dude, what does two degrees mean to a normal person?!” Chris snapped. “like shuffle your foot but don’t fall!” Matt snapped back. I let out a breath and took the tiniest step left. “Good,” Nick said. “Now forward again.. count four steps. Slow.”

“One… two… three—” My foot wobbled. The air around me flickered like the system glitched.

“FREEZE” Chris shouted. “Don’t move!” I froze mid-step, arms flailing for balance. “I’m gonna die. I’m gonna fall. This is where I die in the metaverse.”

“You’re fine” Matt said quickly, stepping back toward me and gently reaching for my virtual arm. “You're still on track. Just shift your weight forward a bit. Like this.” I did as he said. The path under me shimmered faintly probably a glitch of the rendering. But I didn’t fall.

“you won’t actually die anyway you just respawn in the lobby”

“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay, I’m okay.”

We kept moving, Matt’s voice soft and steady in front of me, Nick narrating every bend like a GPS system with an attitude, Chris behind me humming theme music like it would help. Finally, we reached the last stretch. “Three more steps” Matt said. “Straight. You got this.” I stepped forward once twice and then with a burst of light, the path reappeared under my feet. We were on the other side.

"Congratulations MattTheMunch, PixelPrincess, ChrispyCream, IconNick. $2,000 has added to your credits"

I let out a whoop of relief. “WE DID IT.”

“See, easy” Matt said, clearly pleased.

Nick gave me a grin. “Not bad for your first challenge. You didn’t even scream.”

“I almost screamed,” Chris offered. “I thought we were gonna have to watch her plummet.”

“You’d catch me, right?” I teased.

He looked horrified. “I’m not losing 2k for your dramatic fall arc.” I laughed, heart still racing. Even though it was over, I could still feel the ghost of each invisible step. As the arena faded around us, I looked over at Matt. He was watching me again with that calm, unreadable gaze. “Thanks for the assist,” I said.

He winked. “Told you. I wouldn’t let you fall.”

“Let’s do another one! Just one more today cause 2k is definitely not enough in this game”

Matt's avatar smirked beside me, arms crossed casually. as we loaded into the next game

"Welcome to Truth or Trap!" the games robotic voice boomed from the sky above. "Each of you stands on a trap door. I will ask a question. You must answer truthfully. If you lie you fall and lose credits."

Nick gave a nervous laugh. "Cool. No pressure or anything."

"If all four players are honest across all questions, you win today's prize: 4,000 in game credits," the voice added.

Chris immediately spoke "I want to buy a pet reindeer. Let's be real."

"Dude you couldn't even control one of those baby dragons how-"

"First question" the voice interrupted, and the room dimmed to a tense violet hue. IconNick are you a triplet in real life?" I turned to him, brows furrowing.

"Yeah" he shrugged. voice calm. A gentle ding! confirmed his answer.

Wait, what? "Your a triplet irl?" I blurted. "Your not just saying that cause of your virtual character?"

He gave a little shrug, lips curled in a way I couldn't read. "Maybe."

"Next question," the voice said smoothly. "PixelPrincess, is it true you often talk to yourself in a mirror? you laughed nervously, eyes darting to each of their avatars. "Well.. I needed advice from someone I trust." ding!

Chris raised a brow and chuckled. Matt shrugs.

"Next question," the voice went on. "MattTheMunch have you ever pretended to lag because you didn’t want to participate in a challenge?”

"Oh my god," Chris cackled. "Say yes. We all know you do it." Matt groaned. "Fine. Yes. Whatever." ding!

"ChrispyCream do you think you're the funniest in your group?" the voice droned. He puffed up proudly. "Absolutely." A pause. Then BANG!! Chris's trap door dropped beneath him with a mechanical scream, and he vanished into the darkness below. "LIAR" the voice declared. "WHAT?!" his voice echoed from the void. "I am the funniest! This game is rigged!"

Matt and Nick were cracking up. "You litterally called me the funniest person in the world yesterday" I was too shocked to laugh.

"Final round" the voice continued. "Back to IconNick" Nick swallowed nervously.

Chris respawned but he looked transparent and was floating around like a ghost. He was in spector mode since he failed the first round.

"IconNick. What's the last thing you looked up on your phone?"Nick hesitated looking at his phone screen. "Answer. Truthfully." you said, smirking. he blushed embrassed "I looked up if you can legally marry a fictional character."

Chris snorted. "Dude. Who were you trying to marry?"

Nick shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

"MattheMunch. Would you ever online date in the realm?" Matt opened his mouth to protest, but then paused. His eyes flicked upward, thinking. You watched closely. "I think? Yeah." The floor stayed in place. ding!

"seriously?" nick asked suprised

He smiled slowly. "These avatars are still people. People are hot sometimes."

You shrugged "I- okay. That's fair."

“PixelPrincess is it true you had a dream about someone in this room that was so embrassing you wouldn’t want to share” i hesitated. “their avatars?” My heart skipped a beat. I could practically feel Matt's gaze through the pixels. “Yeah”

"Congratulations. Your honesty has been rewarded. 3,000 credits added."

Nick whooped and fist-pumped. "Wait I thought it was 4,000 credits?" Matt paused staring at me.

1,000 credits was taken from the prize money as player 'ChrispyCream' fell through his trap door

Chris yelled "TOLD YOU THIS IS RIGGED!" But I was barely listening. I was staring at Matt and he was staring at me.

tags: @blushsturns @riasturns @iloveduckssm @chrissbxby @sturnobessed @kayskreativeideas @tits4matt @cherryswifeyy @mattsfavho @sturniolobananas1 @courta13 @alexisa78 @chrisissos3xy @sturnobessed @mattschelseaa @sturniolos67 @norahsturns @dolliraez @jibitzlesscrocs @oopsiedaisydeer @gemzyy @sturniolofruitloop @mattschelseaa @hesvoid34 @phone4pills @spaghettislut1 @sturnslux3 @phone4pills @owenstar

[comrade-emma]

Benlie: Why I love these two

A lot of people in the Ben 10 fandom don’t really like this ship these days. Even back when UAF was airing, most were gushing over Gwevin and there was very little Benlie content like AMVs, fanfics or fanart. Many view Julie as a bland character and while she could have been fleshed out more, I think that’s a bit unfair as well as the idea of her being controlling, toxic or abusive. On the flip side are those that view Ben as a misogynistic incel who only saved Jennifer, Elena and Eunice to get in their pants, when he did care a lot more about Julie than some say. I am aware that there are overzealous stans who treat Benlie like the greatest romance in history and usually do it to drag down Omniverse, but many of us who still ship or enjoy it do so because we wish it could have been done better.

I like these two as a couple, partially because they’re a nice contrast to Gwen and Kevin. Gwevin was the “bad boy and smart girl” opposites attract, angst filled romance people loved. Ben and Julie by contrast are people with similar interests and personalities like Sumo Slammers, horror movies, sports and can be pretty headstrong while having a more compassionate side. Both also used “you’re not a monster, you’re better than this” to get the Dragon/Ship to come to their senses, ironically both incidents involved the Forever Knights. Friends to lovers can be overused or cliche but it can also be wholesome.

One other thing I love about these two is how they bounce off each other. Julie is someone besides Gwen who can remind Ben that there’s more to life besides being a hero, something the original Ben 10,000 struggled with and who pushes him to reign in his jerkass tendencies. Sort of like Robin and Starfire in Teen Titans. She brings out the best in him and he is aware that he’s not a great boyfriend, but he does better than most give him credit for. No hate to Benkai fans but they really brought out the worst in each other while Julie got the short end of the stick from the writers.

I also really like how she’s the one that saved him from being corrupted by the power of Dagon, keeping him from letting the power go to his head which is a nice parallel to Azmuth and Zenith. She was kind of the fourth member of the team before Rook, having helped Ben during Big Chill’s pregnancy, and helping stop the Highbreed war, Ultimate Kevin’s rampage and Ben from abusing the power of Ascalon. She also saved him twice from Elena and as well as when he got his hand cut off and was trapped in the Null Void and reassured him when his identity was leaked.

As stated above, many of us Benlie fans ship it because of its missed potential. The show should have really fleshed out their parents more as we never see them interact and Julie’s dad was shown to hate Ben in his only appearance. Julie could have staged an intervention with Carl and Sandra after the Ultimate Kevin incident and over their concerns about Ben’s fame as that arc needed more consequences. I think Julie would also have been fun to see interacting with Rook as well as the other characters Omniverse introduced.

One other reason I really like Benlie is it has a similar vibe to some of my other favorite ships like Hodaka x Hina or Connverse and it feels very animesque, which makes since as the series is quite similar to a magical girl anime. They genuinely care about each other despite their ups and downs and have a very cute vibe. I headcanon both as bisexual or biromantic given Ben’s “crush” on Nemesis and his interactions with Rook, Rex and Kevin. Julie also seems a bit queer, coming from a strict family, keeping secrets like Ship and slowly breaking out of her shell, realizing what she wants out of life.

People use them arguing or Ben screwing up as a reason it was toxic but I like seeing characters work out their issues and succeeding. They got together in AF and were fairly stable. Then conflicts arose in UA when Ben became famous and Julie began her own career in tennis, but they appear to have reconciled by the finale. Then OV could have had them as partners with Rook, having worked out their issues. Regardless of whether you like them as a couple, fans can all agree that Julie deserved better from the writers and isn’t as bad as the fandom makes her out to be. I’m aware that they were not a perfect romance but they don’t need to be for people to like them.

[ofbreathandflame-archive]

i often think that a lot of people facillitating the discussion about the 'necessity' of nesta's intervention always seem to fundamentally misunderstand what exactly is wrong with it

anytime someone shifts the conversation to the 'ends justify the means' ideology- a red flag goes off in my head; anytime someone makes any of these statements...red flag:

"the intervention might have been harsh but.."

"even though the inner circle could have done things better...

"the ic don't owe nesta anything..."

"nesta treated feyre badly so she deserves...."

"feyre cares about nesta and her intentions were good..."

"nesta did xyz to feyre, so its only right..."

because...these statements (and those adjacent to them), always seem to misrepresent what the problem is. its one thing for the inner circle to cut nesta off, for mor and rhys to hate rhys, for feyre to want to get revenge; its an entirely different scenario for the inner circle to put themselves personally in charge of nesta's wellbeing. like....they staged an intervention, they locked her in a house and did not allow to leave without an escort, the tore down her home, they locked in a home with a man she verbally and consistently reiterated she wanted nothing with.

one thing people consistently refuse to acknowledge is the fact that there is quite literally a tangible power imbalance between feyre and her sisters. feyre is literally the governing body of the entirety of the night court; her sisters....are her sisters. silver flames confirmed (and proved to me) that feyre does have tangible, official power over sisters. if feyre says, "you have to be locked in this house with this man," her sisters have no choice but to comply. if feyre says "you're banished," then elain would just be banished. nesta would be banished. and this why i've always said that feyre's function as an eternal victim is undermined by her position in the story.

and this is the kind of power imbalance i have often cited between feyre and rhys and feyre/tamlin. its the natural deference that forms between a subordinate and their superior. its not inherently negative (see: mentor/mentee; teacher/student; manager/employee) but it does mean that people in power have to be cognizant because it is often easy to fall into abusive/imbalanced roles. feyre cannot be nesta's sister and high lady through the intervention; she's either a concerned sister, or the high lady. ordering nesta as her high lady and as her sister mean two different things. feyre establishes herself as high lady in that meeting; she establishes to nesta that the intention of the invention was political in nature.

feyre isn't deferring to an professional who can properly help nesta; she (and the ic) are quite literally assuming the role of the professional. even if we did argue for the necessity of an intervention, that entails consulting and deferring to what they (the professional) outline is the best measure. its still facillitated...through the professional. and by doing that they are inherently consenting to the fact that that person is (1) a subordinate (2) their responsibility. we can't argue for the necessity of a extreme measure - and then in the same breath deny the resposiblities that entails. we can't justify the intervention by saying its the equivalent of a mental health facility and then say the people responsible somehow don't have a responsibility to the person who is essentially forced into being a patient by their standards. and then also claim they owe that person nothing.

and even then - then we have to think about the validity of the house of wind's equivalecy to a mental health facility. because (1) it's nesta that empowers the home, not feyre. its only welcoming because nesta...made it welcoming. its only caring because nesta made it caring. (2) feyre still makes nesta go on missions in her stead. nesta is sexually assaulted twice on said missions. she literally pimps nesta out to eris during her imprisionment. nesta is not getting paid, and she's only allowed to leave the house of wind during these moments. so even that comparison doesn't justify what feyre makes nesta do. she can't be in the equivalent of psychiatric facility and then be coerced into situations she has verbally expressed she does not want to do and that terrify her. we also have to think about the fact that feyre was absolutely down and allowed her sister to be locked up with another male who everyone knew was her mate; who nesta verbally rejected multiple times.

feyre is making the sister that she deemed was so mentally ill that she could not support herself then complete the tasks of a high lady? like how are justifying that? you can't say "this person has a debilitating addiction, therefore, she needs to be locked into a home, escorted, and policed" and then argue that this is the same person who should complete tasks that should be the high lady's job.

like what made tamlin abusive?

it wasn't being a concerned lover. it was that he assumes (and takes advantage of) the position of a high lord over feyre. we know whar tamlin's "intentions" were; he wanted to protect feyre. but how does he protect feyre....by presiding over her as her high lord not consulting her as her lover. a high lord can lock her in the house, restrict her access to his state, refuse to pay her. and again - the concerned lover and the abuser can absolutely co-exist. the 'good intentioned' sister or lover can still be an abuser.

we can acknowledge feyre's position as high lady, but that also comes with the responsibility of managing how you represent your power. the intervention is abusive. and illegal. and impractical. like even if you argue that "nesta heal" that doesn't change the fact that (1) nesta is fictional - of course she "benefits." writing that a character 'heals' from abuse doesn't negate that it is abuse. (2) if feyre had 'healed' under tamlin...he would have still been abusive.

its just very tiring when these conversation focus on the characters and not the frameworks behind them. nesta could have been the nastiest person to ever walk the earth and the intervention and the the behaviors thereafter are still indicative of abuse. and if the ic did not like nesta or could not tolerate for her she treated then they should have not have the power to enact extreme measures like an intervention and lock up.

[musette22]

Talking about evanstan getting together, who do you imagine makes the first move?

Both of them are just so open and honest about personal struggles and stories with the fans so it's hard to imagine them not telling each other. Especially Chris, who wears his heart on his sleeve 24/7. Unless of course they're somehow convinced the other doesn't feel the same way so they try to contain their enormous feelings which obviously doesn't work. Maybe Mackie gets sick of their puppy eyes at each other so he locks them in a room until they sort it out.

Do you have a preference?

Ooohh I go back and forth on this all the time! I can honestly imagine both of them making the first move so easily, but I do agree that Chris would be the most likely one to just be unable to hold it in anymore after a while, once he realizes how he feels. I could imagine him just blurting it out, because his chest is like a balloon filled with feelings (romantic, sappy, smitten feelings about the sweetest kid on the planet) that just bursts because it's gotten too big to contain it all (this is especially true for younger Chris, I think)🥹

Sebastian seems more the type to suffer in silence for a while longer, because he maybe "internalizes" things a little more than Chris does, and he'd probably also believe that he wouldn't stand a chance, because he still sometimes struggled with feeling like the kid that doesn't quite fit in because of his background, while Chris is basically the all American poster child in his view.

Meanwhile, Chris genuinely thinks Seb hung the moon and all the stars, and is the most fascinating, brilliant person he's ever met. If anything, Chris thinks he isn't good enough for Sebastian (he's just a big meatball, after all) which is probably one of the biggest things holding him back from just coming clean about how he feels the minute he realizes why he always feels so happy and giddy and nervous whenever he's around Sebastian...

So yeah, in all honesty, I usually end up imagining that someone ends up having to stage an intervention on their behalf, usually one of their co-stars or loved ones, because they're just both too oblivious and convinced of their own ineligibility 😅 That's probably my favourite type of scenario for these two finally telling each other how they feel! That, or it's kind of an accident - like, they get drunk and it just happens, or they're playing a game and someone says something "incriminating" by accident... Very very partial to those kinds of scenarios too! 🥰🥰 Thanks for the question, lovely, and feel free to tell me about your favourite getting together / love confessions ideas!

[aingeal98]

Hi, loved your recent Stephanie Brown post regarding the violence, the rage and general ruthless scrappiness that to me is an essential part of her character.

It also however has always begged a question in my mind I'd be curious to see your take on.

Namely, how do you think Stephanie's willingness to potentially kill or let someone die fits into a Stephcass relationship?

Cos, its easy to see how it works with basically any other character, but their relationship is so distinctly unique and Cass's stance on the subject quite iron-clad.

Not in the sense she won't help a murderer try to change, but in terms of not tolerating anyone dying under any circumstances.

That its hard to see how they'd grapple wither with the fact Stephanie would be willing, or more notably if it actually happened. Obviously context counts for a lot, but yeah, just generally curious.

Ooh good question. I think that overall Cass will never stop believing in Steph despite her willingness to kill. She saw that anger during Steph's Robin run when she threatened to kill Penguin but she also saw Steph step in to comfort a crying child when Cass could not on the exact same mission. Steph was also honest with her about where that anger comes from and why it still exists. So I feel like even if Steph did fall to morally greyer moments than Cass could accept, Cass would be firm in her belief that it doesn't define Steph the way Cass's kill defines her. Steph can change, Steph can be better etc. Even if Steph did kill a villain (in self defence) I could actually see adult Cass defending her? Not the act itself obviously but what it means for Steph as a person. Because obviously Steph would have a bunch of conflicted feelings and the bat's judgement wouldn't help with that, and Cass would be able to pick up on that and given where they are in current canon I can see her trying to shut everyone else out so she can get through to Steph and guide her onto a path where this doesn't happen again. Cass could never look at her fully the same but that doesn't mean Cass would love her any less. They would both be very very sad the whole time though and feel like they're failing each other even if they never verbally acknowledge it.

That said I can definitely see tension between them if they fail to save some scumbag's life and Cass is devastated but Steph is just... Flippant about it. Like oh no the pedo rapist got shot. Sucks but at least it wasn't anyone else. And Cass would be furious, likely saying something insensitive and accusatory as a response, which would raise Steph's hackles in return and get her from "Yeah we tried but there was nothing we could do." to "Actually I'm glad he's dead fuck him and fuck you for being an asshole about it."

If we're talking batgirl Steph and black bat Cass I think they're both at the stage where they're not willing to let this come between them, even if they both get their feelings hurt they'll apologise and talk it out within a week. Neither will fully accept the other as completely right but I think they'd be surprised to find that it doesn't diminish their respect for each other as much as they feared it would.

Unless, of course, during the argument, Cass gets so disgusted by Steph's lack of guilt over the death that she says those three little words:

"Batman was right."

Because in THAT case... Yeah this argument isn't getting resolved with in a week. It'll take a lot of stewing in their hurt feelings, dredging up past traumas and arguments, and probably outside intervention from at least one or two other batfam members. I have faith they'll work it out in the end! They'll just need a bit of help with the communication and apologies because if left alone they'd 100% make it worse.

Ultimately I think what it comes down to is that after Steph's first resurrection, their bond is so tight that neither of them are willing to give up on it no matter how it hurts, which is rare for both of them honestly! Anger and pride can cause them to get nasty but it's not going to break them permenantly because they tried that and it was horrible and they both kind of have ptsd about it at this point.

Thanks for the ask!

[aimportantdragoncollector]

These are some world-building questions on the Werewolfverse that I got asked on an Ao3 comment that I thought would be interesting to share here.

"How would werewolves react to artificial life forms or even sapient life that, for whatever reason, doesn’t have a soul?" --> In this setting, everything sapient has a soul. Werewolves can infect intelligent robots. Yes, the robots will turn into wolves. They can even infect things like an AI in a sci-fi setting though they would need to learn new methods of infection as they breach the multiverse. The first werewolf very clearly specified that anything with intelligence and a consciousness could be infected.

However, as a thought experiment, what if werewolves meet an intelligent being they can't infect? They would keep on trying. They firmly believe they can infect anything, they just need to find a way. If they have an entire society of intelligent beings they can't infect, then they would quarantine that area off and leave them alone until they figure out how to infect them. Werewolves would not wish these beings any harm, would still be their usual condescending selves, and they would not want to interact with people they can't bite. When they like someone they can't infect, it causes them stress and discomfort.

"How durable are werewolves at this time, can they regenerate from a single cell? Can they survive brain destruction?" --> No, they'll die. Werewolves have very good regeneration but not that good. If they are too maimed then sometimes they have been known to have an emergency transformation into baby form. If the brain gets completely destroyed, then it's all over. It is easier to kill them by catching them in human form than true wolf form, if they get caught off-guard then their bodies could be destroyed before they have time to transform. True wolf hides are eldritch enough to deflect nearly anything.

"While they thrive anywhere humans can, what about low oxygen, radiation. Pressure (water, molten rock, space)? How much antifreeze cupcake is too much of a good thing?" --> Werewolves in human/wolfman/wolf form can hold their breaths longer than a human but need to breathe. Werewolves in true wolf form no longer need oxygen. Ditto for the pressure question. Werewolves cannot be poisoned, they are designed eat just about anything that has calories.

"How is their aging process? (Long healthy life, followed by swift shutdown, slower, more human-like decay followed by organ failures.) Are there werewolves who remember when the empire was founded?" --> They live healthy lives and look younger than their age to the end of their lives. They will show some signs of aging like grey hair but never weaken as humans do. They have a swift shutdown at the end. Werewolves first came to this Earth in medieval times, and they live two hundred to two hundred and fifty years. So no, there is no one left alive who remembers the founding of the pack.

"Do werewolves have disabilities? Can there be communication issues?" --> You have interesting ideas but the answer is "No, absolutely never."

"Besides the base forms (human, pup, wolf, wolfman, eldritch wolf), can they mix-and match or take one form exclusively (wolf with opposable thumbs , pup that walks etc.)" --> Werewolves cannot mix and match forms. They cannot get stuck in a form, but they could stay in a form exclusively if they want. If a werewolf chose to stay as a human and never turn into a wolf that would be seen as very unhealthy by other wolves. Because it would be unhealthy, the inner wolf starts acting up if it never gets to run. Ditto for always staying in wolf form. They would stage an intervention.

"If souls of werewolves are held by the pack mind, does there need to be a minimum number of werewolves to keep those souls from escaping?" --> Yes, there needs to be the minimum number to be considered a pack. If they drop below that number then all the souls not currently alive escape. That's the only hope to stop the werewolf invasion!

"Can werewolves find and raid afterlives in the “tragic event” that this happens?" --> If this happens and the pack rebuilds, then they can tell who used to be a werewolf and will target those people (as they already do). The current werewolves do not have any ability to raid an afterlife. However, one of the scary things about werewolves is that they keep increasing in power when they breach the multiverse and invade other universes. If a werewolf bites a necromancer then suddenly a new power set is unlocked! Also the werewolves become stronger the more souls in their pack mind, they are already more powerful in true wolf form than when they started. The werewolves have the long-term goal to infect every being called a deity across the multiverse, so at that point the afterlives would belong to them. This is a multiverse where gods with a lowercase g exist in other fantasy universe.

"Can the pack mind be subverted, isolated, jammed or cut by extreme means?" --> There is no means to do this on planet Earth. It might be possible in another world to cut a werewolf off from pack telepathy, though the pack would notice and flip out. The pack mind cannot be subverted, in fact anyone who tries will get infected from coming into mental contact with the pack mind. That's one of the three most likely ways that the current werewolves could infect a minor god: if the god tries to influence the pack mind and makes the mistake of touching something highly infectious. The other ways would be: 2. a god refuses to let go of the soul of an infected follower and gets dragged down too; 3. a dark god or eldritch being tries to eat a werewolf soul and discovers they just swallowed the infection. (They wouldn't be able to eat the soul either, it is tied to the pack mind so this is like the equivalent of biting the tail of a giant fish believing it is a small fish.) By the way, if/when the werewolves get their first god then the multiverse is screwed.

"Are pack members imprinted with a “signature” that lets them reconnect regardless of time and distance apart?" --> Yes. Werewolves always know who belongs to them.

"Can the hivemind be hit directly, and if so, do the werewolves involved regenerate the pack automatically, or are they stuck as undifferentiated strays that need to rebuild the whole thing from scratch." --> The pack mind cannot be destroyed, and as previously mentioned, trying is a good way to get yourself infected. The eldritch abomination who originated werewolves is the single strongest one in existence, the manifestation of the primordial chaos that existed before anything else. Absolutely nothing is undoing what she created. She can't undo it herself because she'd be infected if she tried. That's the greatest threat of werewolves--how damn infectious they are.

"How would they handle a hypothetical war with a serious threat to their power? Can the inner wolf tolerate Heroic Sacrifices and Last Stands? How fast can they adapt from the Easy Mode they have been on for centuries?" --> If the werewolves get out of Earth and breach the mulitverse, then at some point they start playing on Hard Mode against beings who can kill them. They will adjust their tactics accordingly. They will scout out worlds and invade weaker ones first. Worlds with beings who can threaten them will be reserved for later in the invasion when the werewolves are stronger. If werewolves are driven into life or death battles, then the restrictions on their behavior will life. Werewolves will prioritize their own lives and other werewolves over the enemy. They are capable of Heroic Sacrifices and Last Stands if that will protect more packmates. Werewolves tend to be cautious and value their own lives more than grabbing new packmates. But if driven into a corner then the inner wolf becomes more ruthless than the human for a change of pace.

"If werewolves can do magic, how much knowledge of the multiverse does the Lupercal empire have? When werewolves get access to magic of different worlds, will they be able to use it as is, or Transcribe it as a facet of their own magic, or convert the energies of different systems to strengthen the pack mind beyond its soul count?" --> Right now the average werewolf knows that the multiverse exists but not much else. The first werewolf knows more. When werewolves obtain access to new worlds they cannot automatically use that magic, but once they bite someone who can, the potential opens up for the entire pack. They are beings that can absorb any power and turn it into their own.

"If werewolves end up in a sci-fi setting, how well could they reverse engineer alien tech with their pack mind? --> Same answer, the werewolves will bite an alien and get access to alien tech that way.

"If say, an overpowered (meaning can't be taken down without massive casualties) MC got bitten and was rendered at least partly immune from normal brainwashing, but wasn’t directly against the pack’s “All Must Be Bitten and All Are One Pack” imperatives but focused on their own interests instead, how would the wider pack deal with this? Would the pack prioritize exploiting the results of the MC’s actions or be focused on corralling their packmate? Would they be treated as a normal, if uncanny pack member, if they played nice? Would they be able to earn trust or be forever watched as a potential threat?" --> It sounds like overpowered MC got all the parts of the brainwashing that actually matter to the pack. The pack is chill about letting werewolves do what they want as long as they are not going against the pack. There are people living in Lupercal who personally don't believe in biting humans against their wills, and they are considered radical but they aren't forced to take part in the invasion. MC would be considered a normal packmate.

"What if they turned after they killed a werewolf or caused an atrocity (and had to be given the “emergency” treatment). What would change if the MC lost (or appeared to lose) their memories of the events in question?" --> The werewolves very strongly believe that everything that happened before someone got turned is forgiven. The rebirth wipes out all past sins. Also the brainwashing period goes both ways. Just like how people who got bitten are forced to bond with the werewolves, the werewolves are compelled to feel protective of the newly bitten and treat them as family. The brainwashing would successfully wipe out any grudge against MC. Memory loss wouldn't be needed. This mechanism exists to keep the pack united.

Most of this information won't be relevant to this series because I am focusing on Earth. The multiverse is only part of the worldbuilding floating around in my head. If I ever did write a multiverse story, then some of this may be subject to change, depending on the needs of the plot.

[princes-and-problems-au]

Michael: THE VOICES

Yeah, leading heaven is kinda stressful not gonna lie. When Lucifer and Lilith tempted Adam and Eve with the apple, it brough heaven into an all-out war. Heaven won and those that side with L&L fell to hell with them, while Adam & Eve were banished to earth, no longer 'pure'. God, who up till this point was a disembodied voice guiding the angels, became a sparse presence. Only rarely speaking to Michael, who at that point became burdened with the leading heaven forward.

Lucifer's betrayal, alongside the growing absence of God, weighed on Michael, and he began to grow paranoid, constantly expecting another betrayal from his siblings, his fellow Princes who ruled their over their own sub-domains in heaven (I.E Gabriel is the Prince of Communication, Raphael is the Prince of Healing, Uriel is the Prince of Wisdom, etc).

Taking note of these dangerous bouts of paranoia, Michael's siblings staged an intervention, and sent a young Seraph, named Sera, to try and calm Michael's nerves. This did not work well, as Michael perceived Sera as some sort of spy from the others, and Sera was quickly facing the reality that her once idol-like role model was not truly what she once perceived. However, over time the two did bond and things seemed to be improving.

Then, Michael had one final burst of paranoia, getting it into his head that Hell was simmering for a second rebellion. In his panic, over a span of years, Michael created hundreds, even thousands, of weapons specifically designed to completely exterminate souls. Sera caught on. Seeing her mentor, someone who she cared very much about, slowly fall into madness again made her call for a final intervention, were Michael realized that he may have gone too far. So, he retired and passed along his title and duties to Sera.

Without the burden of leadership, Michael's mental state began to improve, especially with the support of Sera and his siblings, as well as weekly therapy sessions. Eventually, he created the beaches of heaven, inspired by its earth counterparts, which is where he can be found at any given time. Still dour and serious, Michael is attempting to not fall victim to his own thoughts ever again.

Honestly, this guy deserves all the calm and relaxation in the world.