#thanks for your question! this does not happen :)

[the-offside-rule]

Joe Burrow (Cinccinati Bengals) - Game Day and Grammys

Requested: no but someone asked about NFL imagines and the Pro Bowl and Grammys were on so how could I miss this opportunity?

Prompt: Joe Burrow x singer!girlfriend

Warnings: none other than it being long and full of fluff

Y/n sat in the plush chair of her hotel suite, a stylist curling sections of her hair while another dabbed powder on her already flawless face. The room buzzed with quiet excitement—her team murmuring about last-minute dress fittings, run-throughs, and camera angles. After all, tonight was the biggest night of her career. Five Grammy nominations. Five.

But her attention? Completely divided. On the sleek flatscreen across the room, the Pro Bowl was in full swing. Her boyfriend, Joe Burrow, was out there, tossing passes and leading drives while she got glammed up for music’s biggest stage. She’d wished she could be there, but the Grammys and the game fell on the same night, and there was no way to be in two places at once.

Her phone vibrated in her lap. Another text from Joe.

Joe: This is so much fun. Wish you were here

She grinned, typing back quickly.

Y/n: Wish I was too. But you better be focused, Burrow. No interceptions.

Another buzz.

Joe: No INTs. Just vibes. Also… scored a touchdown. No big deal.

Y/n let out a laugh, her lips quirking as she typed her reply.

Y/n: A touchdown?? Damn, you haven’t scored one of those in a while.

Her stylist stifled a giggle behind her. "Good news?" She smirked. "Joe just ran one in himself." Her phone buzzed again.

Joe: Wow. The slander.

Joe: But fair.

Joe: Good luck tonight, superstar.

Joe: Ja'Marr said if you win two tonight, that makes it 9 grammys you have ever won

Joe: And guess what my number is?

Y/n chuckled at the coincidence. No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, they were always supporting each other.

Y/n: Alright, QB1. Ill get the Grammy's you worry about not getting tagged.

With one last glance at the game, she turned back to the mirror, ready to take on her own championship night.

The flashbulbs were blinding as Y/n posed on the red carpet, her dress hugging her perfectly while she effortlessly smiled at the cameras. The energy was electric; reporters calling out her name, fans screaming behind the barricades. She was used to this, but tonight felt different. Bigger.

As she moved down the carpet, she began her interviews, each asking the same old question that she had rehearsed about a million times. How does it feel to be nominated 5 times? She had been nominated for Album of the Year, Song of the Year, Record of the Year, Pop Vocal Album and Music Video of the Year. She had been to the grammys before but she had only ever been nominated twice each year. Granted, she did win them, racking up an astonishing 7 grammys in just 4 years, but her once edgey music had shifted to softer love songs, all thanks to a certain quarter back.

She smiled as she moved on down the carpet to her last interviewer, a little kid who she had seen on tik tok time and time again. "Oh my gosh, hello!" She smiled as she did her best to get down onto the kid's level. Her calf were killing her from the heels standing, nevermind squatting down. "You look beautiful. I love the dress." She said. "Thank you! And you look so beautiful too." The child replied. "I have a few questions for you if thats okay?"

"Of course! I would love to hear them." Y/n said warmly as she held her own microphone. "So, obviously this is your record for the most amount of Gammys that you have been nominated for. If you could go back in time and tell your younger self that this would be happening, what would you say?" Finally a way to answer the question of how she felt about being nominated that didn't involve her rehearsed answer. "I think I would tell my younger self to keep going, to believe in myself and don't put the guitar down because it's gotten me this far." Y/n replied. "Your album Nine Sunday Mornings was a very abrupt change in your music. It was more edgey and angsty the last time you were here-" Y/n laughed at the very blunt question. "Why do you think this change happened or is it because you just got bored of that genre?" Now that was a good question.

"I mean, as you said it was a big change. I mean any love song I wrote before was scrapped because I thought it was too sappy so I stuck to breakup songs or rage songs. I think the change came in meeting Joe. From the songs right down to the title it's all him. I remember the very night I met him I stayed up nearly all night writing about the like 5 minute encounter we had and now it's nominated tonight so. I have to give credit where credit is due." She answered. "Have you been keeping up with the Pro Bowl?" Y/n laughed, adjusting the Grammy-branded microphone in her hand. "Of course! I have it on in my hotel room. Joe keeps texting me updates, so I think I might have a better play-by-play than some of the commentators."

Her manager tapped her shoulder to tell her to make her way inside, so she bid the mini-reporter farewell and walked in to the packed venue.

Once inside, Y/n glanced around, trying to spot her team. The Grammys were always a production, but tonight, the room felt even bigger. Row after row of tables and glowing stage lights. She turned in circles, scanning the room. Where were they? Her manager, her producer, anyone?

"Y/n?"

She spun around to see Jack approaching, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. "Hey, are you okay?" She let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, I just… I can’t find my seat. I have no idea where my team is." Before Jack could respond, a familiar voice chimed in.

"She can sit with us!"

Y/n turned to see Taylor Swift standing a few feet away, a warm smile on her face. Taylor, dressed in an elegant yet edgy ensemble, motioned toward her table. "If you don’t mind sitting with us, of course." Y/n hesitated for a second. She didn’t want to intrude- Taylor was with her own crew, and this was a huge night for her, too. "Are you sure?" She asked cautiously.

"Of course! Come on." Taylor said, looping an arm around her gently as they started walking toward the table. "Besides, we have a lot to talk about. I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting." Y/n chuckled, relaxing a little as she took a seat beside her. "Are you going to the Super Bowl?" Taylor asked after a moment.

Y/n shook her head. "No, I’ve never actually been. I told myself I wouldn’t go until Joe is the one playing in it." Taylor’s brows lifted in amusement. "Oh that is goals."

"Plus, I’m heading to his family’s house to watch it with them." She added. "I think it’ll be more special that way." Taylor smiled knowingly. "There’s nothing like watching a game with the people who love him most. Honestly, I think you guys are gonna be there next year." Y/n nodded, already picturing herself in the Burrow family’s living room, wearing one of Joe’s sweatshirts, surrounded by his parents and siblings. It felt right. "Honestly, I don't wanna be too picky but I want a Bengals and 49ers Superbowl. That would cure the world, I think."

"That would be a good one."

Just then, the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show. Y/n took a deep breath, ready to take on the night—Grammys, football updates, and all.

Joe stretched his arms over his head as he stepped into the hotel lobby, still buzzing from the Pro Bowl. The game had been fun, a rare chance to play a little looser, joke around with the guys, and even run in a touchdown himself—something Y/n was sure to remind him about later. His teammates followed behind him, still hyped up from the day. "Alright." Ja’Marr announced, clapping his hands. "Let’s turn on the Grammys. Gotta see Y/n win some trophies since Joe isn’t bringing any silverwear home."

Joe grinned as he nudged Ja'Marr for that dig, leading the way to the suite where they all piled onto the couches, flipping the TV on just in time to catch the ceremony in full swing. The room filled with snacks, drinks, and casual conversation, but anytime Y/n appeared on the screen, the guys would nudge Joe, who was watching intently, phone in hand, ready to text her.

Then came Best Pop-Vocal Album of the Year.

Joe sat forward, hands clasped as they listed the nominees. He knew how much work Y/n had put into this album—how many late nights, how many times she’d called him exhausted but excited, how much of her heart was poured into every track.

"And the Grammy goes to…"

Not her.

Joe exhaled, lips pressing together as he watched her smile and clap for the winner. She was graceful as ever, but he knew her well enough to see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. "She said she was gonna be surprised if she got that one. She like, knew Sabrina was winning that hands down."

Then came Record of the Year.

Not her again.

"She got robbed." Russell Wilson muttered. "Bro, you're gonna be the first one singing Not Like Us at the halftime show next weekend." Lamar Jackson replied. "She's in like the toughest categories." James Cook added. Joe didn’t say anything, just shook his head. He hated seeing her not get what she deserved, but he knew Y/n. Knew she’d keep smiling, keep pushing forward. And damn it, he’d keep cheering her on, just like she always did for him.

It didn't matter. 2 down, 3 to go. Music Video of the Year.

Joe sat up straight. He knew this one mattered to her, too. Her video had been a passion project, something she’d fought to bring to life exactly the way she envisioned it. The competition was stacked—the other nominees had incredible visuals, and any of them could take it. Y/n sat at her table, her hands clasped in her lap, holding her breath. Joe could practically feel her nerves through the screen.

"She’s got this." He murmured. "She’s got this, she’s got this, she’s got this, come on, baby."

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n!"

Y/n gasped, letting out the breath she’d been holding. Taylor pulled her into a tight hug as the entire table erupted into cheers. Joe leapt off the couch, throwing his hands in the air. "Let's go! Yes! Wooh!" The suite exploded with excitement- Ja’Marr was shouting, some of the guys were recording Joe’s reaction, and others were laughing as Joe jumped up, singing along to the snippet of Y/n’s song that played as she made her way to the stage.

On the screen, Y/n’s smile was blinding, eyes slightly glossy as she accepted her award. Joe grinned, pride swelling in his chest. She’d done it. Just like she always did. "Oh my god, wow." She began. "I’ll be honest, I did not expect Music Video of the Year. There had been some amazing Music Videos so I just wanted to congratulate my fellow nominees and their directors." Joe clapped as he listened to her. "I want to thank my team, the fans, my family and all of you who voted for the video. My boyfriend Joe of course, who may or may not be still playing his game of tag football but I'm gonna thank him anyway." His face grew red. "I think that's all I have to say to be honest. Maybe I'll see you up here again pretty soon."

Joe lounged back on the couch, finally feeling like he could relax a little after all the emotional whiplash of the night ao far and he was still buzzing from it. "She’s performing next." Ja’Marr pointed out, nodding toward the TV. Joe sat up again, straightening his hoodie as the camera panned to the stage. The lights dimmed, and then—there she was.

His girl.

Y/n stood center stage, bathed in golden light, singing a balld version of her nominated song. She wore the most stunning outfit—a gold sparkling, elegant number that hugged her perfectly. She looked ethereal. "Jesus Christ." Joe muttered under his breath before saying a little louder, "Her outfit is so pretty." Some of the guys laughed. "Yeah, it is." Ja'Marr teased with a smirk. "You good over there, Burrow?" Russell asked, causing all the other guys to take notice of his blushing face and tease him further.

Joe just waved them off, eyes locked on the screen. Then, just as the song picked up, she reached down, grabbed the edges of her outfit, and-

Riiiipppp

The elegant gown was gone, revealing a bold, dazzling second outfit underneath—sleek, fun, and perfect for dancing. "Oh my God." Joe groaned, immediately hiding his face in his hands as the entire room exploded. The guys were shouting, laughing, some recording his reaction as they all clapped and cheered. "Ayyy! Okay, Y/n!" Ja'Marr called.

Joe shook his head, chuckling as his ears burned. He peeked through his fingers just in time to see her seamlessly transition into the next part of the performance, moving with ease, completely in her element. She was dancing, smiling, engaging the crowd like she was born for this moment. "I didn't know she could move like that! Damn!" Trey said.

Joe dropped his hands, watching as Y/n held the mic out, getting the entire crowd to sing along with her. She looked so happy, completely in control of the stage, like she was having the time of her life. Joe smiled. His teammates might have been teasing him, but he didn’t care. He was just so damn proud of her. As the song ended,she looked aroukd for the camera that would be zooming in on her. She spotted it and winked, before blowing a kiss right to it. Joe reached for the imaginaru kiss and put it to his heart as the guys teased him even further for it.

Joe sat back against the couch, his arm draped over the back as the next category came up—Song of the Year.

"Alright, this one’s huge." Ja’Marr said, leaning forward. Joe nodded, eyes locked on the screen. Y/n had poured everything into this song and she loved it the most for reason unknown to him, and even though she’d already won Music Video of the Year, he wanted this for her. Badly.

The nominees were stacked— some of the biggest songs of the year, including Y/n’s. The room quieted as the presenter opened the envelope.

"nd the Grammy goes to… Kendrick Lamar, Not Like Us!"

Joe exhaled, shaking his head, but before he could react, he spotted Y/n on screen, grinning and dancing along to the snippet of Not Like Us that played through the venue speakers. Joe burst out laughing. "She doesn’t seem too bothered." Trey snickered. "Bro, she looks kinda tipsy."

The whole room chuckled as they watched Y/n dancing up out of her seat singing along as Kendrick made his way to the stage. She was still clapping and smiling, showing nothing but love for the win, and Joe couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly cool she was about it. "She’s just vibin'." Joe said with a smirk, shaking his head.

And then finally came Album of the Year.

Her final nomination.

Joe sat up one last time, his heart pounding a little harder. He could see Y/n on screen, hands clasped together, her lips pressed tight as she waited. The tension in the room was thick, even through the television.

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n, Nine Sunday Mornings!"

She didn’t move.

She didn’t react at first—just sat there, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Joe felt like the air had been sucked out of the room before he erupted. "Yes! Let's go baby!" He jumped up again, fists in the air as his teammates laughed, recording his reaction for the second time that night. "That’s my girl! That’s my girl!" He cheered, pacing the room as the suite filled with whoops and applause.

Back on the screen, Y/n finally stood, still in complete shock. As she made her way up to the stage, she kept shaking her head, her mouth open as if she still couldn’t believe it. She took the award in her hands, staring down at it, blinking before looking around. The crowd chuckled. She looked up at the mic, then back at the award. "What?" She squeaked.

Laughter rippled through the audience. Joe grinned, shaking his head. He could practically hear her thoughts—How? Against all those incredible albums? She took a deep breath, exhaling sharply, still looking down at the trophy. "I—I don’t even know what to say, honestly I'm a little drunk so-" Joe smiled proudly, watching her collect herself and begin her speech. She had done it. Two Grammys in one night. And even though he wasn’t there in person, he cheered for her just as loudly as she did for him on Sundays.

"I want to thank the incredible Jack Antanoff for helping me produce this album first and foremost, my team also. But there is one person in particular who I will ramble on about because he was the inspiration for every single song I wrote since the 9th of December 2023, when we first met." Joe felt his eyes watering upon hearing it. He didn’t lile seeing her cry, it often meant he would cry too. "The album itself is a hommage to the fact that it took just nine sunday mornings for us to decide we wanted to become a couple and honestly, those 9 Sunday mornings were the best I could have ever lived through because I got to fall in love with the love of my life." Joe wiped his eyes, lookong down as Ja'Marr patted his back in support. "Joe, wherever you are, I wanted you to know that this award is for you, you can put it right next to the Heisman and my other 8 Grammy's."

Joe chuckled lightly as her little dig. "And just in case this wasnt a clincidence enough already- I'm going to shout out Ja'Marr Chase for this information- this is my ninth Grammy, and its for Cinccinati's number 9." The microphone cut out, singalling that her time for speaking was up. She mouthed a very animated 'I love you' to the camera before smiling and heading off the stage.

As soon as Y/n sat back down at her table, she reached for her phone. Her hands were slightly shaking—part adrenaline, part sheer excitement. The night had been a whirlwind, and there was only one person she needed to talk to right now. She hit Joe’s contact, pressing the phone to her ear as the Grammys continued around her. The line barely rang once before he picked up.

"Baby!" She let out a breathless laugh. "Joe!"

"Oh my God!" He said, and she could hear the pure excitement in his voice. "You were insane. I mean first of all, two Grammys? And then that performance? What was that outfit change? You’re trying to kill me?" Y/n giggled, running a hand through her hair. "Did you like it?"

"Like it? Babe, I almost had a heart attack. These guys aren't gonna let me live it down." She laughed again, picturing Joe hiding his face in his hands while all his guys teased him. "I was just thinking about you the whole time." She admitted, voice a little softer now. "I figured you were watching."

"Of course I was watching." He said immediately. "Are you kidding? We had the Grammys on as soon as we got back. I was cheering for you all night." Y/n smiled, glancing down at her awards sitting in front of her. "It still doesn’t feel real. I mean…Album of the Year? What?"

"You earned that, Y/n. No one deserved it more." She bit her lip, warmth spreading through her chest. "I mean, Billie should have won it." She replied. "Oh my God, I'm gonna cry again."

"No, don't cry." He said quickly. "Not unless it’s happy tears." She laughed, leaning back in her chair. "How was the Pro Bowl? I feel like I barely got to ask you." Joe chuckled. "It was fun. I mean we lost, but it was fun."

"What was the score?" She asked. "Like 76 to 63 or somethin' like that?" He looked around for nods of approval. "Did I mention I scored?" Y/n chuckled. "Yeah and as I said before I haven’t seen you do that in a while."

"Okay, woah." He deadpanned, and she could hear his teammates laughing in the background. "I’m kidding." She teased. "I’m proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too, baby." Y/n exhaled, her whole body finally starting to relax after the chaos of the night. "I just wish you were here."

"Yeah, I know." Joe said softly. "But I’ll see you tomorrow. And then we can celebrate properly." She grinned. "Deal."

"I love you, Baby."

"Love you too, Shiesty "

As she hung up, she clutched her phone to her chest, still smiling. It had been a night to remember— and she couldn’t wait to get home to him.

[nakylvr]

MISSED YOU (FINAL)

daniela avanzini x fem!reader

summary: dealing with the repercussions of your actions, you try your absolute best to fix everything.

warnings/tags: hurt/comfort(?), happy ending (yay!), dealer!dani au, language

wc: 3,5 k

part 1 | part 2

you woke up to knocking on the door. lifting your head from the bed, you immediately felt your head pounding with a headache, making you groan quietly as you got up and left the bedroom. walking to the front door, you peer through the peephole and let out a sigh of relief to see manon.

you unlock and open the door, being met with the taller woman who was holding a convenience store bag in her hand. 

“did you sleep?” manon questions, taking notice of the dark bags under your eyes mixed with the tear stain marks on your cheeks.

“a little.” you shrug, opening the door wider and walking further inside. 

“better than nothing,” manon replies, walking in and shutting the door behind her. she follows you to the living room, setting the bag down on the coffee table as you sit on the couch and curl up into a ball in the corner. “here,” she rummages through the bag before pulling out two cans. “i didn't know if you'd want the redbull or the coffee, so.” she holds both of them in front of you. 

“thanks,” you mumble, taking the energy drink from her hand and opening it. 

a silence fills the apartment again, one that lasts a while before you finally manage to speak up. 

“i don't know how to fix this,” you say quietly, making manon look over at you. “i doubt she wants to see me right now, or ever again.” you look down at the drink in your hand, finger spinning around the rim of the can. “i should’ve listened to her, then none of this would've happened.” 

“it's okay,” manon says. “i mean, it's not, obviously, but it’ll be fine. you can't say that she probably doesn't want to see you, because we both know that she always wants to see you. whenever you're not around you are literally the only thing she talks about, and with what you told me about your last conversation, she probably thinks sophia forced you to do it – which she did, so i don't think she's mad at you exactly. if she is, i’d be surprised.” she pauses for a moment. “you have to just do it. get her out, and then you can talk it out. you can figure the rest out as you go.” 

“yeah,” you murmur, still looking at the can in your hands. 

“yn,” manon grabs one of your hands making you finally look at her. “i’ve known dani for years, she isn't going to be mad at you. when i say you are the only person she talks about, i mean literally you are the only person she cares about. i’ve seen her go through girls so fast that when she started talking about you i felt bad. i thought ‘well, there's another poor girl to add to her list’. but she said you were different. so i tried to believe her. now, i’m going to be honest with you here, okay? because i love and care about both of you very much, and i want you two to fix this, okay?” she stops, waiting for you to nod before continuing. “dani has said multiple times to multiple girls that they're different. so when she said it about you my first reaction was how you were going to get hurt. but things started changing, dani started changing. and that has never happened. you know dani is a pretty independent person, and what she does has her that way because of shit that's happened in the past, but to see her changing – changing for the better? i knew she was right about you.”

“not one other girl has even been able to remotely change one thing about dani,” manon continues. “she always kept them at a distance, she never let them get too close. and the day she told me she took you with her to one of the deals? something that she never let anyone do? i knew she seriously loved you. when she said that you insisted on going with her, she told me that she hesitated. but not for the same reason it usually was. she wanted to protect you. she always wants to protect you, yn. but she lets you come with. she trusts you with the money. she trusts you with certain clients. she trusts you. she loves you. no one else. i don't know why she did what she did, but i know she regrets it. you are the best thing that's ever happened to her, and i don't want this to fuck it up for you two. i can't tell you what to do, but i will support whatever decision you make, okay?” 

listening to everything manon said, you slowly nod your head while taking in all of it. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you could feel them threatening to spill, with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth to keep it from trembling. “i ju-st want to fix this,” your voice cracks as you speak. “i love her so much.”

“i know you do,” manon is quick to reply, scooting closer to you and wrapping her arms around your shaking frame. “and i know she loves you just as much. you just have to tell her. you have to talk this out, and you have to tell her about what happened last night.” 

you physically tense up at her last words, the memories of the night before flooding your mind as you put your hands into fists to keep them from shaking so much. “i can't– she’ll really hate me then,” you reply, shaking your head. 

“you have to, yn,” manon tells you. “i know you don't want to, but you have to.” 

a few tears fall from your eyes, but you slowly nod your head, knowing it was the truth. it could make matters worse or it could improve them, but you had no idea how to even go about it. “can you– can you come with me to the sheriff's station? i already have the bail money in a bag, i-i just don't want to go alone right now,” you speak quietly, more tears trailing down your cheeks. 

“of course,” manon replies with a nod. “has sophia tried reaching you?” 

“there was texts and calls for the first couple of hours, but i think she gave up,” you answer with a shrug. “i read a few of them…” your voice goes quiet again.

“bad?” manon questions, judging by the tone in your voice when you said it.

“yeah.” you nod. 

“ignore them,” manon tells you sternly. “you don't need to be seeing her lash out on you because of something terrible she did. you didn't do anything wrong, okay? you don't deserve any of what's happened to you in these months, and it's not your fault for going to the person you thought would keep you safe. but this means you have to fix things with dani. if all else fails, then you can stay with me for some time, okay? you’ll always have a place to stay with me.” she rubs your back reassuringly.

“okay,” you mumble, nodding again. “thank you again, i owe you for this.”

“no you don't.” manon shakes her head. “you're one of my best friends, i’d do anything to make sure you're okay.” she then pulls away from you, grabbing the can from you and setting it on the coffee table. “when does the sheriff's station open?”

“nine, i think,” you answer. 

“we’ll go right when it opens, then,” she says. “get it done as fast as possible so that she doesn't have to stay in there too long. then you can talk things out. i’m sure you'll already be on her good side just by bailing her out after what you said when she was arrested, so you have a good starting point. get her something to eat, get some drinks, and talk it out here in the home you two have made. it’ll all be okay. i promise.” 

“okay.” 

…

one week later you were standing outside the jail, biting your nails with your foot tapping on the ground anxiously. thankfully, you had enough to cover the bail and have a little leftover, which was a relief knowing it didn’t take everything in the safe. you had yet to even speak to daniela, despite manon telling you to at least try and see if she would talk to you. you didn’t want to hear yelling over the phone, you’d rather hear it in person where you could explain everything easier than if you were arguing over the phone line that would cut after five minutes. manon told you over and over again that she wouldn’t be mad at you, but the nervous feeling was still rooted deep inside you as you heard the loud buzzing and the gate slowly opening. 

looking up from the ground, you spot daniela walking with her bag of things. her eyes subtly widen a bit from what you can see, since they didn’t exactly tell her who bailed her out, just that she was able to leave. 

she slowly steps over to you, stopping in front of you and looking at you without saying anything. 

“hey,” you say quietly. “i’m really sor–”

you’re cut off from your apology by daniela kissing you. your eyes go wide for a second, but when her arms wrap around your waist you find yourself melting into the kiss, practically feeling all the emotions she was pouring out into it. 

when she pulls away, you’re both a little breathless, quiet panting coming from you two. 

“do you wanna get something to eat and head home?” you ask softly. “i’d rather talk at home.” 

“yeah, we’ll talk at home,” daniela responds in the same voice.

“okay.” you nod. 

…

by the time you two arrived at the apartment, it was already leading into the evening, the sunset coming down just as you opened the door and walked inside with bags of food and drinks in your hands. 

walking behind you into the apartment, the first thing dani notices is how clean it is. she figured it’d be destroyed when they came to get her, only feeling worse when she realized it had to have been you that cleaned up the place. she follows you silently, setting the food down on the dining room table and going to sit on the couch next to you. 

there’s a silence that fills the room. one that was far from comfortable. both of you sitting there not knowing what to say first, or to say anything at all. until you speak. 

“i’m really sorry,” your voice is barely able to be heard as you fiddle with your hands. “i-i didn’t think– i didn’t mean for it to go down that way, i-”

“don’t apologize,” daniela cuts you off, shaking her head. “there’s no reason for you to be apologizing. i deserved it.” she goes quiet for a moment before continuing. “i’m really, really sorry. i shouldn’t have done what i did, and i know i fucked up. i’m not sure why i did it, but i regret it so much. i don’t know why you bailed me out, i thought the last time was really going to be the last time. but…i’m glad you did. i just want to talk it out.” 

“i know, and that’s why i bailed you out,” you start. “listen, dani. i went to sophia to figure out what to do, and…it wasn’t a smart idea. i know you two already don’t like each other, but this could really make things worse for everyone. i– she convinced me to call the police even though i didn’t want to. i felt so bad once i saw how upset you were. i knew you knew you fucked up and was trying to do anything to make me stay a-and i ignored it. i-i thought it would make things easier but it made everything so m-much worse. everything just t-turned into a shit show a-and i didn’t know what to d-do.” you began stuttering over your words as a few tears fell from your eyes. 

“hey, hey, it’s okay.” daniela is quick to wrap her arms around you and pull your head against her chest. “it’s okay, okay? i’m not mad at you for what you did. i deserved it. so please don’t beat yourself up over what you did, baby. i’m not upset at you.” she presses a gentle kiss on your head. 

“there-there’s something else i h-have to tell you,” you manage to get out, your anxiety growing and your breathing getting heavier. “please don’t get mad when i tell you th-this.” 

“nothing will make me mad, i promise,” dani responds. “what happened?”

clutching onto her shirt, your face is still pressing against her chest as you try to find the words to explain it. “i-i went to sophia’s after. y-you know she’s always had feelings f-for me, so i-i…i fucked up, dani.” you start fully sobbing into her chest at this point, which has her arms tightening around you both from you crying and what she was thinking you were going to say next. “i-i let her have her w-way with m-me b-b-but i hated it. it was t-terrible. sh-she didn’t care that i w-was uncomfortable, she di-didn’t stop even when i w-was crying. all i c-could think about was how y-you would never do that. i-it didn’t feel the same. sh-she didn’t care, she continued a-and i felt so bad after th-that i left immediately. i’m so sorry.” 

once you finished your words through sobs, daniela pulled you closer to her onto her lap, her arms tight around you as you cried. there were hundreds of thoughts running through her head, but they were far from being mad at you. she wasn’t mad at you. she was livid at sophia. “it’s okay,” she tells you over and over. “i’m not mad at you, i swear. i’m not mad.” hearing your cries continue made daniela wonder just how much sophia put you through when she wasn’t around, and thinking it made her jaw clench, anger bubbling inside of her. “baby, look at me,” she says softly. 

you slowly lift your head to look down at her, your eyes red and puffy with a few sniffles coming from you now and then. 

“i’m not upset, okay?” she says, running her hand through your hair. “i understand, i do. which is why i’m not angry at you. i’m angry at sophia, okay? she should’ve known better than to try and do that, let alone continue when you were crying. you haven’t seen her since, have you?”

you immediately shake your head quickly. “no, no, i haven’t. she tried texting and calling but i just ignored them.” 

“good.” daniela nods. “that means it’ll be a fun surprise for her when i show up at her front door.” 

the way she says that has your eyebrows furrowed together. “what do you mean?”

“don’t worry about it, mi amor,” she says, pecking your lips. “let’s just say she won’t be a problem anymore.” 

“as long as you don’t get arrested again, you can do what you want,” you tell her, hooking your arms around her neck. 

“i won’t, i promise.” she smiles at you. “are we okay?” she asks after a moment. 

it takes a minute for you to respond, but you nod your head in the end. “yeah, we’re okay.” 

“i love you,” daniela says, looking you in the eye. 

“i love you too,” you reply, leaning in and kissing her. 

…

it was late into the night when daniela got up. but not for the same reason it had been the past few months. was she going to see someone? technically. was it sophia? yes. was she going to beat the living shit out of her? probably. 

the latina carefully got out of the bed, unwrapping your arms around her and looking at the time on the digital clock. late enough. you shift around feeling her presence leave the bed, and you open your eyes to see her putting on a hoodie and her shoes. 

“where are you going?” you mumble tiredly. 

dani turns when she hears your voice, leaning down and pushing some of your hair out of your face. “i’m heading to sophia’s with manon and minji. don’t worry, i’ll text you once i’m there and when i’m on my way back.” she presses a soft kiss on your forehead. “i’ll bring you back something to eat if you’re awake when i’m leaving.” 

you nod your head, murmuring out a quiet “okay”. this is what you missed. if you were too tired to go out to deals with her, she would always say this. that she’d text you when she was there, and that she would text you when she was leaving that everything was okay, even then she would send more messages than necessary. but, you didn’t mind it. she knew you often got worried when it came to certain clients, and she always reassured you when she would go alone. it hadn’t been like this in months. for the past few months you’ve woken up to her already gone, not bothering to tell you where she was going. for the first time through this hell that’s been these last few months, it was starting to feel normal again. 

“be safe, please,” you say quietly. 

“always,” she replies, kissing your head again. 

walking out of the apartment, manon and minji were already waiting outside in front of minji’s car. the two turn when they hear footsteps coming towards them to see daniela walking towards them. 

“is it bad to say i’m surprised you showed?” daniela says, stopping in front of the car. 

“not really,” manon shakes her head. 

“thanks, anyways then,” daniela looks between the two. “are you both sure you want to do this?” 

“obviously,” manon says. 

“i’ve never liked her anyways,” minji adds, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“alright,” daniela nods. “let’s go then.” 

…

it was three in the morning when you heard the front door open. you were partially awake after daniela told you where she was going, glancing at your phone occasionally when it would light up. it had been thirty minutes since dani told you she was on her way back. just when you were getting worried you heard the creaking of the front door opening, and the jingling of keys. you sit up on the bed a little bit when daniela walks into the bedroom with a bag of food and drinks in her hands. 

“hey.” she smiles at you. “i got you some food and a milkshake from sonic. i’m sure you’re tired of it by now but it’s like, the only place open at this hour.”

“i don’t mind.” you shake your head. “thank you.” 

“it’s no problem,” she says, sitting down next to you on the bed. “here.” she hands you one of the drinks and takes the food out. 

sitting in silence while eating, you had a warm feeling radiating through your body. the type you hadn’t felt in months while everything was going on. the silence wasn’t awkward, it wasn’t tense. it was comfortable. it was normal, like it used to be. 

“i really missed this,” you say randomly in a quiet voice. “i missed you.” 

daniela looks over at you when you speak, seeing the small smile on your face that subconsciously makes a smile grow on her own face. “i missed this– i missed you, too,” she replies in the same voice. 

when you look over at her, you can barely make out her face with the lamp on your nightstand, but staring into her eyes, you know she’s genuine about it. “promise me we won’t do this again,” you tell her. 

“i promise,” she replies in a heartbeat. “you know why?” 

“why?” you encourage her, curious as to what she’ll say. 

“because i’m gonna marry you one day.” 

your breath hitches in your throat at her words. in the two years you’ve been together, she’s never mentioned anything of the sorts revolving marriage or that kind of commitment. and after what manon told you, you weren’t sure she would ever even consider the thought. to say you were surprised would be an understatement. 

“really?” your voice comes out in a whisper, as if you were doubting her words. 

“really.” daniela nods. “i don’t want to be with anyone except you. i don’t want you to be with anyone except me. i know i fucked up right now, but i swear in the future i’ll give you the newlywed life you want. i swear.” 

tears build in your eyes without your knowledge, so focused on her words that you didn’t even notice a few falling until dani’s hand reaches towards you and wipes them away with her thumb, her hand cupping your face. “you can’t go back on me now, y’know,” you say in a hushed voice. “you better stay.” 

“i will,” she responds. “i will, i promise. i don’t want anyone else. i just want you.” 

“then you’ll show me?” you say, your voice changing into a tone daniela was far too familiar with.

“oh, i’ll show you.” she leans in and kisses you. 

[favefandomimagines]

I Know Places 2 (r.c)

Summary: Rafe goes to Y/N at the bait shop and his presence is not celebrated

AN: part 2 of ‘I Know Places’ and I’m deciding to go the traditional route! I’m used to the old school way of fics so this will be fully written out and not SMAU! Though I do love how that’s on trend right now!

Previous part

The next morning, Y/N Maybank was up before the sun had fully risen, her mind too restless for sleep. She had spent the night tossing and turning, debating whether or not to tell JJ and the Pogues about what happened at Tannyhill. It wasn’t that she wanted to keep secrets—she just didn’t know how to explain the strange feeling of being pulled into Rafe Cameron’s world, if only for a fleeting moment.

By the time the bait shop was ready to open, she was already elbow-deep in her morning routine: feeding the live bait, checking inventory, and wiping down the counters.

Summer was here, which meant the shop would soon be crawling with locals and tourists alike, and she needed everything to be in order.

The small bell above the door jingled, pulling her attention away from the tank of minnows. She glanced up to see Rafe Cameron standing in the doorway. His broad shoulders filled the frame, his usual air of arrogance replaced by something quieter.

“Hey, Pretty Girl,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Y/N quirked a brow, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused. “Rafe Cameron on the Cut? You must’ve hit your head harder than I thought.”

“Funny,” he replied, stepping closer. “How’s business?”

“It’s early,” she said flatly, then tilted her head. “How’s your head?”

“Better,” Rafe said, though his hand instinctively went to touch the bandage she had applied the night before. “Still aches.”

“Maybe now you’ll listen to me and see a doctor,” Y/N said, crossing her arms. “What if you’ve got brain damage? You must have if you thought coming here was a good idea.”

Rafe chuckled under his breath, but his expression quickly sobered. “I need to talk to you about last night.”

Y/N set the container of fish food on the counter, her brows knitting together. “What do you mean?”

Rafe leaned against the counter, his blue eyes scanning the shop briefly before landing back on her. “How many people did you see leave the house?”

“Three,” she said slowly, thinking back to the shadowy figures slipping through the side gate. “They looked like men, but I couldn’t see their faces. They had black hoods on.”

She watched as Rafe’s jaw tightened and his eyes clouded over, clearly running through a mental list of possibilities. It didn’t take a genius to realize there was more to the break-in than he was letting on.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Y/N asked, her voice softer now.

Rafe shook his head quickly. “No. Don’t worry about it.”

“Rafe, someone broke into your house and assaulted you. You need to tell Shoupe,” Y/N said firmly.

“I’m sure they didn’t find what they were looking for,” he replied cryptically.

“What does that even mean?”

Rafe ignored the question, shifting his weight uncomfortably. “I just... I wanted to see you. And to thank you again for helping me last night.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “It’s no problem,” she said, though her voice faltered slightly. “But you should probably go before JJ finds you talking to me.”

“Do you always do what JJ wants?” Rafe asked, but there was no malice in his voice.

Y/N hesitated, his question catching her off guard. Did people really think that? “No,” she said finally, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It’s just that a fight is bad for business.”

Rafe returned her smile, a rare softness in his expression. He pulled out his phone and handed it to her. “Here. Put your number in. You know, in case I need another house call.”

Y/N stared at him for a moment, her instinct screaming at her to say no. But Rafe seemed... different. The last time they’d spoken, he’d been consumed by grief and arrogance, still reeling from his father’s death and struggling to take over the family business. But now, he seemed calmer—more grounded, though still carrying an edge.

She grabbed his phone and began typing her number. Her head was screaming at her to not do it, don’t give him access. But she did it anyway.

“Rafe?”

Both their heads snapped toward the dock, where Sarah Cameron was walking toward the shop. Rafe stepped back from Y/N, his demeanor instantly shifting.

“What are you doing here?” Sarah asked, her gaze narrowing suspiciously.

“Thought someone broke into the house last night,” Rafe said smoothly. “I knew you parked outside when you went to that party, so I came to see if you saw anything.”

Before Sarah could respond, Y/N interjected. “I already told him I didn’t see anything. We were still at the party when it happened.”

“Someone broke into the house? Did they take anything? Are you okay?” Sarah questioned. “I’m fine. It didn’t look like they took anything. Just a window and a door I have to replace.” Rafe answered.

“I uh, gotta go, I’ll see you around.” He added, his gaze fleetingly on Y/N.

He walked past Sarah and up the dock, leaving Y/N standing there, her heart pounding for reasons she couldn’t fully understand.

“Was he bothering you?” Sarah asked, stepping into the shop.

“No, no,” Y/N said quickly. “He just wanted to ask if we saw anything.”

But even as she spoke, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Rafe’s visit meant something more. And as much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t entirely mind.

“JJ is going to freak when he finds out.” Sarah commented. “We don’t need to tell him. I’m sure Rafe came here looking for you but I was here.” Y/N quickly replied.

As Sarah stepped closer, Y/N busied herself with the container of fish food on the counter, her mind racing. She could still feel the heat of Rafe’s presence lingering in the room, and her stomach twisted at the thought of Sarah catching onto something she hadn’t even figured out herself.

“What’s going on?” Sarah asked, crossing her arms as she studied her friend.

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, hoping her casual demeanor would be enough to shut the conversation down. “Nothing.”

“Since when does Rafe come to you for answers?” Sarah’s tone was skeptical, her piercing gaze making Y/N feel like she was under a microscope. “And why didn’t he just ask me?”

“Maybe because you were at the party too?” Y/N said, raising a brow. “I don’t know, Sarah. He didn’t exactly give me his whole life story.”

Sarah frowned but didn’t press further, instead moving to grab a soda from the mini fridge behind the counter. “Still... I don’t like him showing up out of nowhere like that.”

Y/N let out a short laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “What, you think he’s gonna rob the bait shop? Pretty sure we’re not hiding any family heirlooms in the minnow tank.”

Sarah snorted, but her expression remained thoughtful as she leaned against the counter. “I just don’t trust him, Y/N. You know how he is.”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her shirt. Sarah wasn’t wrong—Rafe Cameron was trouble. He always had been. But last night, when he was bleeding and vulnerable, he didn’t feel like the same guy she’d written off.

“Yeah, I know,” Y/N said quietly. “But he’s your brother, Sarah. He can’t be all bad.”

Sarah gave her a sharp look, clearly not expecting that response. “You’re defending Rafe now?”

Y/N shook her head quickly. “No, I’m not defending him. I’m just saying... people can change, right?”

Before Sarah could respond, the bell above the door jingled again, and John B strolled in, followed closely by JJ, who was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Morning, ladies,” John B greeted with a grin, grabbing a bag of chips from the shelf. “What’s the gossip?”

“Rafe was here,” Sarah said bluntly, making both boys freeze in their tracks. Y/N glared at her friend, eyes saying ‘why the hell would you do that?’

“What?” JJ’s tone immediately turned sharp as he walked over to Y/N. “Why the hell was Rafe Cameron here?”

“Someone broke into his house,” Y/N said quickly, trying to downplay the situation. “Wanted to know if we saw anything suspicious last night. That’s it.”

JJ’s jaw clenched, and he let out a humorless laugh. “Since when does he care about what we saw? He’s up to something.”

“Relax, J,” Y/N said, placing a hand on his arm. “He wasn’t here to start trouble. He just... wanted answers.”

“Well, he better not come around again,” JJ muttered darkly, his protective instincts kicking in. “I don’t care what he wants. You don’t need to be talking to him.”

Y/N bristled at his tone, but before she could respond, Sarah spoke up. “Let’s not make this a thing. Rafe’s gone, and he’s not coming back here.”

JJ muttered something under his breath, clearly still annoyed, but he let it go for now. Y/N, however, felt a tinge of annoyance in her chest. She loved her brother, and it was just the two of them at the end of the day so it makes sense he’s protective. But he’s not her father, she’s 20 years old, she doesn’t need her brother telling her who she can and can’t talk to.

||

The fire crackled softly, its orange glow casting warm shadows on the Pogues as they lounged in the cool evening air. John B was sprawled out on the sand with Sarah curled up beside him, their laughter intertwining as they recounted the story of JJ’s infamous fight with Topper outside the country club.

“And then Shoupe shows up, and Y/N’s out here sweet-talking him like she’s auditioning for a soap opera!” JJ exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.

“Sweet-talking?” Y/N interjected from the hammock, her tone dripping with mock offense as she rolled another joint. “I’ll have you know I was using logic and reason to keep your ass out of juvie.”

Kie snorted. “Logic and reason? You told Shoupe Topper started it and then cried about how JJ was just trying to defend your honor.”

“Exactly,” Y/N said with a smug grin. “And it worked, didn’t it?”

JJ grinned back, leaning over to flick sand at her. “I owe you for that one, Sunshine.”

“Damn right you do,” Y/N quipped, expertly twisting the joint closed.

The group dissolved into another round of laughter, the kind that came easy after a long day and a few too many hits. Pope was stoking the fire while Cleo leaned against him, teasing him about his terrible impression of Shoupe. It was one of those rare nights where everything felt simple—just them, the stars, and the stories they carried.

“Hey, Sunshine!” JJ called, breaking through the chatter. “Toss me one of those masterpieces!”

Y/N smirked, flicking the newly rolled joint in his direction. JJ caught it with ease, holding it up like a trophy before lighting it.

As she reached for another paper, her phone buzzed against her thigh. She picked it up without much thought, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the name.

Rafe.

The text was simple but enough to tug at her carefully guarded smile.

RC: Hey, Pretty Girl.

Y/N: Can I help you, Cameron?

RC: What are you doin’?

Y/N: Currently? I’m rolling a joint.

RC: Lol, save one for me?

Y/N: Maybe.

The next text froze her in place.

RC: Just wondering, is asking you out against doctor’s orders?

Her breath hitched, her mind racing. Was Rafe Cameron—Rafe Cameron—really asking her out? She stared at her phone for a moment too long, trying to process what this meant.

Y/N: Hm, that might be bad for your health

RC: What if we don’t tell anyone?

This wasn’t the Rafe she’d known before. The old Rafe was reckless, arrogant, and self-absorbed. But now? He felt different, quieter. Something had shifted, and Y/N couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

RC: Did I lose you, Pretty Girl?

She glanced around the fire. Her friends were laughing, oblivious, completely immersed in the stories of summers past. Sarah was teasing John B about his failed attempts at surfing, JJ was leaning back with a lazy grin, and Kie was high enough to be softly singing to herself.

Y/N was the odd one out—always had been in a way. The one without a partner, without a storybook romance. And yet, there was something undeniable about the way her chest had tightened in Rafe’s bathroom, how she’d felt something she couldn’t ignore.

Y/N: Better plan a good date

The reply came seconds later.

RC: Is that a yes?

Y/N: It’s a yes. Don’t mess it up.

Y/N set her phone down, the smallest of smiles playing on her lips as she leaned back in the hammock.

“Who are you texting?” Kie’s voice came from beside her, making Y/N jump. Kie had slid into the hammock, her eyes glassy but curious.

“My cousin,” Y/N lied smoothly, reaching for another paper. “We need more weed, and he’s got the good stuff.”

Kie leaned her head on Y/N’s shoulder, her movements sluggish. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Y/N froze, the lie suddenly feeling heavy in her chest. “Of course, Kie,” she murmured, though her voice felt hollow.

“You’re my best friend,” Kie continued, her words slurring slightly. “You and me, we’re a team, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said softly, guilt twisting in her stomach.

But as Kie drifted into a half-asleep haze against her shoulder, Y/N’s thoughts drifted back to Rafe. Whatever this was, it wasn’t something she could tell them. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

[cognitiveoverload]

Rejection (Aaron Hotchner x reader)

summary: Being Hotch’s favorite is hard, but when he suddenly asks you out, you don’t really know if you’d like to make things harder for yourself.

tags: fem!tech analyst!reader

note: There will be more parts, not necessarily in chronological order. What do you think, what situations will they find themselves in? Send an ask with your idea, and let’s see what will happen.

At first, it was just a casual and genuinely innocent observation from Spencer. “Have you noticed that Hotch calls only you if he needs something?” he asked one day as he sat between you and Penelope in your little den.

But then this comment spread through the BAU like wildfire, making everyone think back of all the times their boss needed information, and look at that, they all remembered the same detail–it’s not just the fact he was always calling you, it was the fact he always called you by your first name.

And that’s how the constant teasing began. Derek, Emily, JJ and Penelope tormented you, with Spencer occasionally joining to spit out some facts about the both of you, while Rossi targeted Hotch as far as you knew. It was mortifying, really, but you got used to it.

What you still can't get used to is the change in your boss’ behavior. Recently he’s been different, although you can’t quite put a finger on what it is that changed. Sure, maybe he shows up a little more often in your office, strictly when Penelope isn’t around, and he brings you coffee when you’re working late or arrive a little too early as he does.

“How are you holding up?”

You turn your swivel chair around to look at Hotch, who’s standing in the door with an almost worried expression on his face. He sent Penelope home a few hours ago when a case affected her too much, and now apparently it was time for another wellness check in your little office. It’s hard to miss the way he’s flexing his fingers, a clear sign that he’s nervous, although you’re not a profiler, so you remain silent before you say something stupid.

Thinking about his question, you realize one thing. “It didn’t really affect me. Does this mean something’s wrong with me?” you ask him.

His lips part as he takes a shallow breath and thinks about what you just said. For a moment you think he’ll not give you an answer, but then he sits on the edge of your desk and watches you with a small smile. “It only means you’re tough. Look, you said, ‘It didn’t really affect me,’ which tells me it did affect you, just not as intensely as it did Garcia for example,” he explains kindly.

Nodding, you look down at your hands in your lap, but your gaze rises when he bumps his leg into your thigh. You expect him to say something, but Hotch remains silent, and he even acts like he didn’t do anything at all. There is one little thing that’s different, though. That barely visible smirk, the one you’ve all seen before.

Times like this it’s hard to comprehend the extremes in his behavior. He can act like this, so kind and supportive, but he can play rough too, especially when he loses control. And times like that, like a few days ago when he yelled at an agent who tried to take a case from him, you can’t help but think about how he could yell at you any time with you even thanking him.

Because, as pathetic as it might sound, an angry Hotch is simply irresistible. You probably have some issues that should be analyzed, but that’s tomorrow’s problem.

“I often wonder how you all can do this every single day. Penelope told me to brace myself when I arrived, but… It’s hard sometimes,” you admit quietly. “Yet, there are cases that don’t really make me feel anything. I can’t really wrap my head around that.”

His brown eyes soften in sync with his expression, and then his lips curl into a smile. “You’re a good person, never forget that. Not feeling anything might be your brain’s way of protecting you. Either way, if you ever want to talk, you know where to find me,” he tells you as he stands up.

You nod, then return to your computer once he’s heading to the door. But then the sound of footsteps suddenly dies, and when you turn around to see if he has just disappeared into thin air, you find him watching you with a thoughtful look. Your brows furrow in confusion, but you don’t say anything, you just wait for him to spit out whatever’s on his mind.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asks casually.

It seems like an innocent, regular question between co-workers. The members of the BAU often team up in pairs or bigger groups to grab something, even Hotch joins them for a drink in a bar or dinner in some restaurant nearby. But he has never, ever gone out to eat with someone alone. Maybe with Rossi, but that doesn’t count.

So, it’s no wonder you have to think about the offer. You would be on thin ice, the team already has a little too much fun with the fact Hotch is playing favorites with you. If you have dinner with him alone, they might think you’ve been in some secret relationship all along.

In the end, the rational–or maybe rather paranoid–side of your brain makes the final decision. “Thanks, but I’d rather go home after I finish this,” you say, pointing at your computer.

He nods, and you begin to think he’s about to leave, but then he gulps and takes a deep breath, as if he’s gathering the strength or courage to say whatever’s on his mind. “I have paperwork that can’t wait, but I can give you a ride home after I’m done,” he offers, and there’s a look in his eyes that you can’t quite identify.

“No need, I’ll be fine, but thanks anyway,” you tell him with a forced smile.

The last thing you need and want is Hotch taking you home. He means well, you know that, but you can’t risk being seen by someone who could easily start a rumor. The problem is, he’s almost as old as your dad, so people would talk about your nonexistent daddy issues, and he’s your boss, which would only make things worse.

So far the whole joke about being his favorite is something that stayed within the team, but if it gets out and reaches HR, you’re both done. You don’t want that, but not because of yourself. Hotch is ambitious, he’s insanely good at office politics, and if he wants to be promoted, he can’t be involved in such scandals.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the sigh that leaves his lips. He looks almost disappointed, which is something you don’t really understand, because you can’t remember anything that could be even remotely rude. What is his problem? Or is there something he wants to talk about, something he wants to get off his chest?

Before you know it, he closes the door and walks back to you. “I’ve been making offers, and you turn down each and every one of them without hesitation. Why?” You can’t help but give him a confused look, because you have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. Well, you know, but why does it bother him? “Is it because we would be alone?”

“It’s just… Wouldn’t it be weird?” you ask.

He inhales and exhales slowly before he suddenly crouches in front of you. “Look, there is a chance it will be weird, yes, but why don’t we give it a shot to see, huh? Come on, just you and me. If you’re afraid someone we both know will see us, we can go somewhere away from the usual crowd.”

You tilt your head to the side as you watch him, observing the look in his eyes, the small smile that makes your heart melt, and you simply can’t get yourself to say no to him. “Why?” you ask, although you know the answer, you just want to hear him say it.

“I’m sure I don’t have to spell it out for you,” he says with a boyish smile.

Gulping, you nod. A date. Aaron Hotchner wants to go on a date with you. But he’s your boss, if you started a relationship, there would be the danger of the aftermath of a breakup. Would you really like to risk it? You love this job, you love this team, you love Penelope, losing them wouldn’t be worth it.

You lick your lips as you push your chair back to build some distance. “I really have to get back to work now, and I’m sure Jack would be happy if you got home before bedtime,” you say, even though it hurts to turn down the invitation.

Hotch lets out a disappointed sigh as he stands up. “If you change your mind… you know. Good night.”

“Good night.”

[exilethegame]

i apologize in advance if this is too long and rambling lol. i just need to make you aware of the moral quandary i’ve found swimming around in my head all day. firstly, your book is amazing. i don’t think ive seen a writer capture my attention and also rip my heart into pieces so throughly (although, I, the Forgotten One is maybe tied with yours in my mind).

so, trystan and syfyn.

IRL i consider anyone who sits by as atrocities happen to be completely complicit and (sometimes) as equally as guilty as the perpetrator. your story makes my head spin as this is a stance i take very strongly and i struggle with hating syfyn and trystan. on one hand, my MC does hate them for things they’ve done (breaking his arm, holding him down while people essentially experiment on him, and even not really doing anything after finding out what happened to MC and learning that the queen is working with the “enemy”). other times, my MC can’t hate them for being a victim of circumstance, just as MC himself was (and is). my MC sees them for who they used to be, how their circumstances have shaped them, and how they may be punished for defying the crown but also can’t help but feel a personal and… maybe political betrayal? my MC, and me by extension, have been grappling with a couple questions: at what point does being a victim of circumstance no longer absolve someone of guilt? how many horrible things must someone do before their allies see that something must change? at what point does someone become just as guilty as the perpetrator because they refused to lift a finger either way? is it wrong to hate someone as a whole because of circumstances that, up to a certain point, were beyond their control? is it wrong to hate someone that follows a tyrant because they fear for their safety? what if it’s all they’ve ever known and they have no clear path forward without their leader?

i hope all of that made sense and don’t seem like the ramblings of a lunatic lol. i’m not very intellectual but these are just some things i’ve been thinking about as i gave your story another read last night and i was bursting at the seams to share my thoughts. like i said before, your story is beautiful. tragically beautiful, perhaps? i’m wishing you the best of luck in your work and personal life! and thank you so much for sharing this story with us; we don’t deserve it, but we will try to.

(also sorry if i misspelled trystan lol)

Ah no don't apologize!! I love discussions like this re. the characters, especially because pretty much all of them are morally questionable to one degree or another. It always makes me happy to hear when the game has made people start to think and worry about bigger moral questions like this :)

I think both Syfyn and Trystan definitely are intended to make that question be asked. And the game won't push a particular agenda either way re. if the Commander forgives/doesn't forgive, blames them/finds them to be victims, etc.

Of course, something I do think is fun that plenty of characters are wondering this very same question about MC, and the role they used to fulfill for Plaithus vs. what they are now, post-exile... 👀

Thank you so much for the kind words :)

[hypnobeauty]

a chance encounter - a cho hyun-ju x reader fic (part 8)

summary: a story about how you and hyun-ju met and the following years of your relationship. masterlist cw: no use of y/n, reader is afab, fluff, hurt/comfort, slow burn, pre-squid game, slice of life, domesticity, very wonky timeline. a/n: thanks for the answers to my questions last chapter! i have decided what to do, but i'll keep it a secret for now lol this chapter is just a bunch of snippets i've written and couldn't fit anywhere else in the story, so it became... this! in my head, you two first met in jan 22, and the games happened in oct/nov 24, so imagine these things happened during this time period. and again, thank you for all the positive response, it makes my heart warm to see you enjoy my silly story! as usual, enjoy xx comments are always welcome (i’ll definitely take longer to post now since my vacation is officially over, one minute of silence please) (song inspo: the land & the sea - hannah & maggie) taglist: @strayteez3staner @dekiruxxx @jeongteen @sunnysurvives @3leni @etta-huracan @honeyhyunju @basoressia @antisocial-aina @googie-jeon @christinamadsen @deernat @vvlwvvy

part 8. love, unrushed and unfolding

there was no grand moment when you and hyun-ju officially became girlfriends. no nervous confession, no neatly rehearsed lines. it just happened, like slipping into warm water, natural and inevitable. one day, while running errands together, you were at the grocery store, arms full of snacks, when ha-neul called.

"hey, where are you?"

"mart," you said, wedging your phone between your ear and shoulder as you grabbed a bag of tangerines. "hyun-ju’s making dinner, and i got stuck with shopping duty."

you didn’t think anything of it at first, but ha-neul caught on immediately.

"hyun-ju’s making dinner? cute. look at my girl playing house with her girlfriend."

the word landed like a pebble in water—small, but rippling outward. you froze for half a second, then stole a glance at hyun-ju, who was a few feet away, inspecting a carton of eggs with a level of seriousness that made you fond.

"yeah, well," you said, voice casual. "she’s the better cook. i just follow orders."

"uh-huh," ha-neul drawled. "and does your girlfriend know you’re completely whipped?"

you rolled your eyes and hung up, but the word stayed lodged in your brain. that night, when hyun-ju was stirring a pot by the stove, you leaned against the counter and said it out loud.

"so, i called you my girlfriend today."

she didn’t stop stirring, didn’t react immediately. then, without looking at you, she said, "yeah?"

"yeah."

finally, she glanced up, lips twitching like she was holding back a smile. "and?"

"and… i think i like it."

she hummed, nodding as if considering it. then she set the spoon down, stepped closer, and hooked a finger into one of your belt loops, tugging you toward her.

"good," she murmured against your lips. "because i’ve been calling you mine in my head for a while now."

and just like that, it was settled. no ceremony, no discussion. just two people who had already chosen each other in every way that mattered.

it became clear that you were hers, and she was yours, in the little things. how she always reached for your hand in the car, even if it was just resting on the gear shift. how you always saved the last bite of your food for her, even when you didn’t want to. how she let you steal her hoodies, even the ones she pretended were off-limits. and then there were the moments that felt bigger, like the time she gave you the locket.

it was your birthday, and hyun-ju refused to let you lift a single finger the entire day. she cooked breakfast, surprised you with an impromptu and fast trip, and insisted on carrying everything—even the small coffee you got on the way to the beach.

"aein, give it," she said, holding out a hand as you walked down the shore.

"it’s a cup of coffee, hyun-ju, not a ten-kilo weight."

"doesn’t matter. birthday rule."

you rolled your eyes but handed it over because she looked so damn pleased with herself. the beach was quiet, waves rolling in and out in a lazy rhythm, the sky painted in hues of gold and soft lavender. hyun-ju shifted beside you, pulling something from the pocket of her windbreaker. she hesitated for a second—just a second—then turned to you and said, "here."

she pressed a small black box into your palm, fingers warm against yours. you blinked at it, surprised. "what’s this?"

"your present," she said simply, but her voice was softer than usual, careful in a way that made your chest tighten. you opened the box, and the moment you saw what was inside, the world tilted just slightly.

a gold heart-shaped locket rested against the dark velvet lining, gleaming under the fading sunlight. it was simple, delicate. you carefully pried it open, and there, tucked inside, were two tiny photos—one of hyun-ju, the other of you. your fingers tightened around the locket, a rush of warmth filling your chest. you swallowed, trying to steady yourself.

"you… put our pictures in here?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

hyun-ju exhaled a small, nervous laugh. "yeah."

"hyun-ju—"

"don’t make it a big deal," she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. "i just… i wanted you to have something of me. with you. always. "

“and i’d have mine too," she says, pulling out a matching locket from beneath her collar.

that’s when you notice she’s been wearing hers this whole time.

you stared at her, at the way her eyes stayed fixed on the locket in your hands, like she was afraid of what she’d see in your face. like she was already bracing for you to tease her about it. you didn’t. instead, you shifted closer, cupping her cheek and tilting her face toward you.

"it is a big deal," you said softly. "and i love it."

her eyes flickered, lips parting slightly. you pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, slow and lingering, like an unspoken thank you. when you pulled away, she exhaled, resting her forehead against yours for a moment before reaching out to take the locket from your hands.

"let me," she murmured. you turned around, sweeping your hair aside as she clasped it around your neck. the chain was cool against your skin, but the locket itself felt warm—like it belonged there. you touched it lightly, turning back to face her. she watched you, eyes steady, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"looks good on you," she said.

you grinned. "yeah?"

"yeah."

you leaned in, brushing your nose against hers. "i’ll keep it forever, you know."

hyun-ju’s fingers ghosted over your collarbone, resting just above the locket. "i know."

and in that moment, you knew—without question—that she meant it. the weight of it against your chest became a quiet, constant reminder, not just of her, but of everything you were building together. it was easy to get lost in the warmth of it, in the quiet security of knowing that, no matter what, you had each other. the city stretched beyond the shore, distant and unconcerned, but right here, with her, the world felt small, safe, and just enough.

you were staying in a hotel for the night, to rest before the drive back in the morning. the night was still, the kind of deep quiet that only comes when the world outside has long settled, leaving just the two of you in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. the soft hum of the ocean filtered through the window, distant enough to feel unreal. you were both tangled together, half-awake, neither of you willing to fully succumb to sleep yet.

hyun-ju’s fingers traced slow, absentminded circles on your back. you had your head on her chest, her heartbeat steady beneath your ear, grounding you in a way nothing else ever had. she smelled like warmth, like safety. like home.

your eyes fluttered closed as you exhaled, completely at ease. her other hand rested in your hair, playing with the strands, twirling them between her fingers. you could tell she was tired—her touches were lazy, unfocused, like she wasn’t thinking about it, just feeling you. you liked when she was like this, when she let herself be soft with you.

"you're quiet," she murmured, her voice low, a little hoarse from exhaustion.

you hummed in response, nuzzling closer. "just thinking."

"about what?"

you didn’t mean to say it. you didn’t plan for it. but it slipped out, as natural as breathing.

"i love you, hyun-ju."

her fingers froze in your hair. you felt the sharp inhale she took, the way her chest rose a little too quickly beneath you. her heartbeat had quickened.

your own breath hitched. maybe it was too soon. maybe you had ruined something—

but then her hands were on your face, tilting you up to look at her.

she looked stunned, lips slightly parted, brows lifted like she couldn’t quite believe what she just heard. and then, slowly, her expression softened. her eyes—deep brown and endless—searched yours like she was committing this moment to memory.

and then she smiled. that smile, the real one, the one that melted you every time.

"i love you too."

the words came out barely above a whisper, but you felt them everywhere. before you could respond, she was already pulling you in, arms locking around you, pressing her forehead to yours. her breath trembled as she exhaled, and you realized she’d been holding it in.

you smiled against her, cupped her jaw as you kissed her—slow and deep, like trying to pour everything you felt into her, trying to tell her that this was real, that you meant it, that she didn’t have to be afraid.

she didn’t say much after that. she didn’t need to. she just pulled you into her arms again, held you against her chest, her lips pressed to the crown of your head as her fingers traced gentle patterns on your back.

neither of you spoke for a long time. just the sound of your breaths, your heartbeats, intertwined and steady.

and then, as you were drifting off, she whispered it again. "i love you."

just to make sure you knew.

*

the first time hyun-ju told you about thailand, it was a slow evening, one of those where neither of you wanted to say goodbye yet, so you found yourselves in the fluorescent glow of a convenience store. the air was thick with the smell of warm broth from the instant ramen station, the low hum of a refrigerator filling the silence as the two of you waited for your onigiri to heat up in the microwave.

"thailand has some of the best surgeons in the world for gender-affirming surgery," she had said then, like it was an idle thought, a passing remark.

you glanced up from your juice selection, tilting your head. "yeah?"

she nodded, taking a slow sip of her strawberry milk. "a friend of mine from the support group, jaidee, she’s thai. she told me all about it–her surgery. people from all over the world go there. the doctors are some of the best, and it’s still expensive, but not as much as here."

you closed the fridge door and leaned against it, watching her. there was something careful in the way she spoke, like she was testing the waters, unsure if she should let herself hope.

"i thought insurance covered some of it here?" you asked.

hyun-ju scoffed, shaking her head. "barely. and even then, you have to jump through a million hoops. you have to prove you're 'serious enough,' that it won’t be a 'regretful decision.' they make you wait, make you beg for something that should already be yours." she sighed, stirring the ice in her cup with her straw. "even if i could qualify for aid, i'd still have to pay most of it on my own. and i don’t exactly have that kind of money lying around."

there was something in her voice—something tired. you hated that she had to carry this weight, that something so personal, so necessary, had to be treated like a privilege she had to earn.

"is that where you want to go?" you asked softly.

she hesitated, then nodded. "yeah. when i can afford it."

something about the way she said it made your chest ache.

"i have money saved up," you offered. "i could—"

"no," she interrupted gently, shaking her head before you could finish. "i can't ask that of you."

"you’re not asking, i’m offering."

she smiled, small but warm. "i know. but this is something i need to do for myself."

you understood, even if part of you wished she’d let you carry some of the burden.

so instead, you squeezed her hand and said, "well, when the time comes, i’m coming with you. you don’t even have to ask."

that was when she laughed, something bright and unguarded. "of course you are. it was never a doubt"

and now, months later, that conversation echoed in your mind as you stood outside her apartment, an a3 folder tucked under your arm.

hyun-ju had been sick all day, a minor flu keeping her in bed, her texts throughout the afternoon slow and pitiful—“i think i’m dying.” “i hate everything.” “the only thing keeping me alive is the hope of your love.”

you laughed at your phone every time she sent something dramatic, teasing her relentlessly, but a part of you did feel bad that you couldn’t be there earlier. so, you decided to bring her something to lift her spirits.

when she answered the door, wrapped in a thick hoodie, her hair still slightly damp from a shower, she blinked at the folder in your hands.

"what’s that?" she asked, voice scratchy.

you leaned in to kiss her, only for her to lean back immediately. "i don’t want to give you my virus, aein!"

you laughed, nudging her inside. "fine, fine. but come sit with me, we’re making something."

she followed you to the living room, watching as you spread out the contents of the folder—paper, markers, scissors, glue, magazines, and printed images.

"a vision board?" she asked, tilting her head.

"yep." you arranged the materials with the same focus you used when planning ad campaigns at work. "we make them all the time at the agency. it’s basically a collage of images and words representing a project–-in our case, a goal. so today, we’re making a thailand vision board."

hyun-ju blinked at you, then at the scattered materials. "you're really serious about this."

"of course i am." you cut out a small photo of a bangkok skyline and placed it in the center of the board. "it’s your dream. and we’re going to make it happen."

you didn’t notice at first, too focused on arranging the pictures, but when you finally glanced up, hyun-ju was staring at you, something unreadable in her expression.

"what?" you asked, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious.

she shook her head with a soft chuckle. "nothing. you’re just… too cute when you get all excited."

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the warmth in your chest. "shut up and help me cut these."

for the next hour, the two of you worked side by side. you printed out images, flipped through old magazines, and carefully glued everything onto a large sheet of paper. there was a map of thailand, images of white sand beaches, street food stalls, and bustling city streets. you glued an old 1,000 won bill to the bottom corner—"for good luck," you said. hyun-ju found the phrase "new beginnings" in a magazine and placed it near the center, close to a selfie of you two. you added tiny heart stickers, while she carefully placed the trans and lesbian pride flags in the corners.

and right in the middle, in bold marker, you wrote thailand.

when it was done, you both sat back, admiring the finished board.

"it’s perfect," hyun-ju murmured.

you grinned. "we’re perfect."

she laughed, shaking her head, but you could tell she was touched.

her fingers traced over the edges of the board, her smile softening. "this means a lot."

you reached for her hand, squeezing gently. "we’re really going to do this, hyun-ju. one day, we’ll be standing there for real, looking at the actual thing."

she exhaled, pressing her forehead to yours, eyes fluttering shut. "yeah," she whispered. "one day."

you hung the board on the living room wall, right beside her taekwondo belts, where it would be impossible to ignore. every time she saw it, she’d be reminded: this dream wasn’t just hers anymore.

it was yours, too.

*

but being with hyun-ju wasn’t always effortless. in the beginning, she kept parts of herself tucked away, hesitant to voice her feelings or desires. she had a habit of retreating, of swallowing words before they could fully form. it wasn’t that she didn’t care—you knew she did—but sometimes, it felt like she was afraid to ask for too much. you remember the first real fight you ever had, just a month into your relationship, and how it all started because of this—because you wanted openness, and she wasn’t sure how to give it yet.

hyun-ju has always been touchy with you. in your apartment, in her apartment, curled up on the couch, wrapped around you in bed—her hands are a constant presence, tucking your hair behind your ear, tracing slow circles on your wrist, squeezing your knee when she laughs. she holds you like it's instinct, like letting go isn’t an option.

but outside, it’s different.

she walks beside you but doesn’t touch you. when you try to loop your arm through hers, she shifts, just slightly, so the moment passes unnoticed. when you reach for her hand, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, busies herself adjusting her sleeves. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but once you notice it, you can’t unsee it.

at first, you tell yourself it’s just a habit. maybe she’s distracted. maybe she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. but then weeks pass, and you see the pattern—the careful space she leaves between you, the way she subtly angles her body away in public, the contrast of how freely she touches you when no one else is around.

and it starts to eat at you.

you don’t want to care. you don’t want this to feel like a rejection. but the inconsistency claws at your chest, whispering things you don’t want to believe. she’s ashamed of you. she doesn’t want people to know.

you try not to think about it. until you can’t anymore.

it happens on a quiet evening, walking back from a late dinner. the streets aren’t crowded, the air is cool, and the city hums around you. it’s one of those moments that should be easy—just the two of you, walking home, full and content.

you reach for her hand. and like always, she finds a way to avoid it; she scratches her arm, pretends to fix the sleeve of her jacket, tucks her fingers into her pocket.

that’s it.

"are you ashamed of me?"

the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. they hang between you, sharp and heavy, cutting through the night air.

hyun-ju stops walking.

"what?" her voice is quiet, careful, like she misheard you and hopes you won’t repeat it.

"you heard me." you turn to face her fully, arms crossed, trying to keep your voice steady even though your chest feels tight. "are you ashamed of me?"

her brows furrow. "what are you talking about?"

you laugh, but it’s hollow. "i mean, it’s obvious, right? you won’t even hold my hand in public. you keep your distance like—like you don’t want anyone to know we’re together."

hyun-ju flinches, just barely, but enough.

"that’s not true," she says, but there’s something fragile in her voice, something unsure.

"then what is it?" you press. "because i’ve been nothing but honest with you. you know how hard it was for me to come to terms with this, to finally let go of all the shit i was taught about what my life was supposed to look like. and now i just— i want to live, hyun-ju. i want to hold my girlfriend’s hand. i don’t want to have to wonder if she’s embarrassed by me."

her jaw tightens, her eyes dart away. she’s silent for a moment, then she exhales sharply, like she's been holding something in.

"it’s not you," she says finally. "it’s never been you."

"then what?" you demand, frustration creeping into your voice. "because it sure as hell feels like it’s me."

hyun-ju exhaled shakily, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “because i’m afraid,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

the words knock the wind out of you.

“afraid of what?”

hyun-ju looks away, crossing her arms over her chest. "you don’t know what it’s like," she says firmly. "to have people glare at you just for existing. to hear whispers, to feel their eyes on you like you don’t belong. and sometimes, it’s worse than that." she pauses, as if debating whether to continue, then finally says, "i’ve been grabbed before. shoved. just for being me .i’ve seen what happens to girls like me when the wrong person decides to take it further. and i can handle that—i’ve always been able to handle it. but you…” her voice cracked, and she looked away. “you’re not like me. you shouldn’t have to deal with that.”"

your heart clenches.

she lifts her gaze to yours, and her eyes are burning, raw with something you recognize as fear and fury tangled together. "and you— you’re…" she exhales sharply. "you’re strong, but you’re not trained for that. what if someone tries something? what if i can’t stop them in time?"

she rubs her face, looking exhausted. "it’s not that i don’t want to hold your hand. i just— i don’t know how to stop being afraid."

the anger drains from your body, leaving only aching frustration and something softer, something unbearably tender.

you take a step closer. "i get it," you say, voice gentler now. "i do. and i know it’s different for you. but i don’t want to live my life in fear. i’ve already spent too much time doing that. i don’t care what people think anymore. i just want to be with you."

she looks at you, something unreadable in her eyes.

"you don’t have to prove anything," you continue. "i’m not asking you to throw yourself into danger. but i- i want to hold your hand, hyun-ju. that’s all. just… let me hold your hand."

she nods, just once. "i’ll try."

and she does.

the next time you go out, she intertwines her fingers with yours. it’s hesitant at first, light, as if she’s testing the weight of it. then she squeezes your hand properly, and warmth spreads through you. but then, two old women pass by, their expressions twisting in distaste. hyun-ju drops your hand immediately.

another time, a man mutters something disgusting under his breath as he walks by, and again, she pulls away. both times, you fight. not because she let go, but because she keeps trying and then stopping, keeps giving you hope and then snatching it away.

the third time, you refused to let go.

hyun-ju’s hand was in yours as you walked through the busy streets, her palm damp with sweat. you could feel the tension in her grip, the way her fingers twitched as if she wanted to pull away. but you held on tighter. when she glanced at you, her expression a mix of fear and determination, you gave her a small, reassuring smile.

by the time you reached your car, her breath was labored, her shoulders rising and falling as if she’d just run a marathon.

“i didn’t let go,” she said, her voice shaky but triumphant.

“you didn’t,” you said, your chest swelling with pride.

hyun-ju exhaled, a small, tentative smile spreading across her face. “it was hard, but… it felt good. being with you like that.”

you reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “you don’t have to do it all at once. just take it one step at a time. i’m not going anywhere.”

*

ha-neul’s apartment looked like something straight out of a lifestyle magazine—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, sleek modern furniture, a dining table that seated twelve despite the fact that she lived alone. the kind of space designed for entertaining, and she loved to entertain. her dinner parties had become something of a tradition in your friend group, always featuring a private chef, good wine, and an excuse to indulge in both food and conversation. the guest list was carefully curated—never too big, always people she trusted to create the perfect balance between fun and relaxed.

this time, you wanted hyun-ju to be there.

when you first brought it up, she hesitated, shifting uncomfortably on your couch. "i don’t know… your friends might not be comfortable with me there."

"hyun-ju, they’re my closest friends," you reassured her, squeezing her knee. "they know about us, and they’re the most open-minded people i know. it’s not going to be weird."

she still seemed unsure, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. "it’s just… i don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable."

you sighed, tilting your head at her. "aein, you’re not an outsider. you’re my girlfriend. i want them to know you."

that word—girlfriend—made something soften in her expression. she looked at you for a long moment before exhaling, nodding once. "okay," she said. "i’ll go."

you arrived at ha-neul’s place right on time, greeted instantly by the scent of something buttery and rich wafting from the open kitchen, where a chef was busy plating appetizers. soft jazz played in the background, and the apartment was already buzzing with chatter and laughter from the small group scattered around the living space. ha-neul spotted you from across the room, raising a glass of white wine in greeting. "my favorite couple has arrived!"

hyun-ju tensed slightly at the attention, but you simply rolled your eyes and guided her further inside.

"stop embarrassing me five seconds after i walk through the door," you muttered through a smile, and ha-neul grinned.

"no promises. now, introduce me properly before i steal your girlfriend away."

hyun-ju chuckled at that, and you relaxed.

the introductions went smoothly—hyun-ju’s natural charm quickly melting away any lingering apprehension. by the time everyone sat down at the long dining table, the initial stiffness had disappeared. the conversation flowed effortlessly, moving from topic to topic. ha-neul and you remembered the time a ridiculous client who demanded fifteen logo variations before going with the first one she was shown. one of your coworkers, ji-won, admitted he had fallen asleep on a zoom call that morning, only to jolt awake when his name was called.

"did you play it off?" ha-neul asked, smirking over her wine glass.

ji-won groaned. "i tried, but there’s security footage. my manager literally sent me a screenshot of my drooling face."

laughter rippled around the table, hyun-ju included. she had been quiet at first, mostly listening, but now she was leaning in, engaged in the conversation.

"i fell asleep standing once," she admitted, making everyone turn to her in surprise.

"no way," ha-neul said, intrigued. "how?"

hyun-ju shrugged, a small grin tugging at her lips. "during a night drill in the army. we were in formation, waiting for the officer’s orders, and i guess i just… blacked out for a second. next thing i knew, someone was shaking me awake."

"wait, wait—so you were literally upright? just unconscious?" ji-won asked, eyes wide.

"yup," hyun-ju confirmed.

"that’s a new level of exhaustion. i’m impressed."

the night unfolded in a haze of stories, effortless laughter, and wine glasses that never seemed to stay empty for long. by the time dessert was served, hyun-ju had fully settled in, her usual guardedness replaced by easy amusement. she chuckled when another friend enthusiastically showcased their never-ending repertoire of k-pop choreography and outright laughed at your attempt to belt out a duet with ha-neul, shaking her head at the dramatic high notes you two definitely couldn't reach. at some point, beneath the table, your fingers brushed against hers. you gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and without hesitation, she squeezed back.

by the end of the night, ha-neul pulled you aside before you left and whispered, "i like her. you better not mess this up," you just smiled.

"i don’t plan to," you replied.

the next morning, as you sat at your desk, sipping coffee and scrolling through the group chat, when a notification popped up. a photo from the dinner party, everyone laughing, glasses raised. you and hyun-ju were seated close, your arm looped around hers, your head tilted slightly against her shoulder. you loved the photo. it was warm, real, a snapshot of a night you’d remember.

then a message from your boss: who’s the new girl?

you quickly replied, that’s my girlfriend.

your heart pounded as you sent it. it wasn’t that you were ashamed—never that. but there was something unnerving about seeing it stated so plainly in a professional space. you weren’t sure if it was anxiety or anticipation, but you felt it settle deep in your chest.

later that day, you were called into your boss’s office. the door was slightly ajar when you arrived, the faint hum of the air conditioner filling the quiet space. you knocked lightly, and she looked up from her desk, offering a small smile.

“come in,” she said, gesturing to the chair across from her.

you stepped inside, your stomach twisting slightly. you’d been replaying the events of the dinner party in your head all morning, wondering if this meeting was about the photo.

your boss folded her hands on the desk, her expression kind but cautious. “thanks for coming by. i just wanted to have a quick chat.”

you nodded, keeping your face neutral. “of course. what’s on your mind?”

she hesitated for a moment, then offered a small, apologetic smile. “i saw the photo from the dinner party last night. it looked like a great time—everyone seemed so relaxed and happy.”

“it was,” you said, your voice steady. “it was nice to spend time with everyone outside of work.”

her smile lingered, but there was a hint of something else behind it—concern, perhaps. “you mentioned that the woman sitting next to you is your girlfriend?”

your chest tightened slightly, but you nodded. “yes, that’s hyun-ju.”

she paused, her expression softening further. “first of all, let me say that i’m so happy for you. it’s clear from the photo that you two care about each other a lot, and that’s wonderful to see.”

“thank you,” you said, your voice quieter now.

she paused, her lips pressing together briefly before she spoke again. “i want to start by saying that i respect your personal life, and it’s not my place to comment on who you date. you’re an excellent employee, and that’s what matters to me.”

you exhaled a small breath of relief, but you could tell there was more.

“that being said,” she continued, her tone careful, “i feel like it’s my responsibility to… make sure you’re aware of how this could be perceived by others. not here, of course—our agency is very open-minded, and everyone i’ve spoken to has nothing but respect for you. but outside of this bubble, in the broader professional world, things can still be… challenging.”

you stiffened slightly, your hands gripping the edge of the chair. “challenging how?”

she sighed, her fingers drumming lightly against the desk. “you know how things are in korea. while there’s been progress in recent years, there’s still a lot of stigma around lgbtq relationships. some clients, some partners we work with… they might not share the same level of acceptance. and i worry that if word gets out, it could complicate things for you.”

you felt your stomach twist, the weight of her words settling over you like a heavy blanket. “are you saying this could be a problem?”

she sighed, her fingers drumming lightly against the desk. “not here, no. your colleagues respect you, and your work speaks for itself. but with clients… it’s hard to say. there are still people who hold outdated views, and sometimes they let those views influence their decisions, even if it has nothing to do with the work itself.”

you frowned, leaning forward slightly. “has that happened before? has a client ever withdrawn a contract because of something like this?”

she hesitated, her lips pressing together briefly before she nodded. “it’s rare, but yes, it has happened. not often, and not always for the reasons you’d expect. but i’ve seen clients make excuses, find ways to back out of deals, and it’s hard not to notice the pattern when it happens.”

her honesty stung, even though you’d expected it. “and you think that could happen to me?”

“i don’t know,” she admitted, her voice soft. “your portfolio is incredible, and your work ethic is unmatched. but sometimes, people don’t see that. they only see what they want to see.”

you leaned back in your chair, your chest tightening further. “i’ve worked so hard to get here,” you said quietly. “i’ve put everything into this job. and now you’re telling me that it might not matter because of who i love?”

her eyes softened, and she shook her head. “i’m not saying it doesn’t matter. it matters so much. and it’s not fair that you even have to think about this. i just want you to be aware of the risks so you’re not blindsided if something does happen.”

you looked down at your hands, your mind racing. “it’s just… i’ve spent so much of my life hiding who i am. i don’t want to do that anymore. i don’t want to pretend that hyun-ju isn’t important to me just because some client might not like it.”

“i understand,” she said gently. “and i admire that about you. truly. it’s not easy to live authentically, especially here. and i want you to know that i’m here to support you, no matter what. if anything comes up—if you ever feel like someone’s treating you unfairly—i’ll be in your corner.”

her words eased some of the tension in your chest, and you nodded slowly. “thank you. that means a lot.”

she smiled, her warmth returning. “hyun-ju seems lovely. i hope i get to meet her someday.”

“she is,” you said, your lips curving into a small smile. “and i think you’d like her.”

as you left her office, the knot in your stomach began to unravel. the conversation hadn’t been easy, but it also reminded you of why you were fighting to live authentically. for yourself. for hyun-ju. for the life you wanted to build together, no matter what anyone else thought.

[bludragongal]

Hi Meg! I've been a fan of your work since the Cheeko days on DA. I seem to recall a post a few months ago saying that you underwent a significant change in your life and your beliefs. Ever since, I've been curious -- are the changes in your beliefs and philosophy going to be reflected in the future chapters of DotL? Or are the "main beats" of DotL staying the same? Like, "Three Who Is One" or "Main character works through PTSD" and that kind of stuff?

Heyo!

Thank you so much for asking this question. I've had it open in a tab for like 9 days, not because I am struggling to come up with an answer, but because there's a lot I want to say about it!

I'll put the actual answer beneath the cut because it does reference some heavy stuff currently happening and I want to be considerate to those who are struggling and trying to take care of themselves during this time.

TLDR: Very little that has already been shown in the story is changing! It's still about mental health, working through and healing from PTSD, and found family. The deeper worldbuilding, themes, and lore are what's changing! I hope you enjoy where it goes now. :)

Basically, Christianity was/is a huge part of my self identity and I give it a lot of credit helping me survive a neglectful and lonely childhood. However, due to life changes, finally getting to therapy, learning what kind of help I really need, coming to accept that I am worthy of that help, recognizing and unlearning the harmful conditioning present within the organization, and seeing how the faith has been further twisted and used as a weapon to fuel the rise of Christo-Facism in the United States... the story's themes as they were originally conceived are both dishonest to the current state of the world, the people who are reading it, and to myself as I currently am and who I've become.

The world lore and answers to the larger mystery in the story have been rewritten to reflect these things. I hope I can still honor and show what it was about Christianity that helped me, what I am thankful for in it, while also doing right by the way it's been used to harm others in the past. If you are currently religious yourself and reading this, look for ways to stand between the people your faith is being weaponized against, and the weapon itself. This is not what Christ wanted. This is not what I want. Not any more.

DotL's core theme, ultimately, has been empathy and love. This theme remains unchanged.

Thank you for your question. <3

[bugisastranger]

hey babe 🩷 if you have the time or inspiration to write please consider fake dating to lovers with Clark Kent, like a to all the boys I’ve loved before typa situation

a/n: thank u for the request anon!!! sorry it took me a bit to get around to it - i can be a busy busy gal.

"you want me to what?"

clark's voice is unlike anything you'd ever heard from him, his shock nothing less than apparent. you shush him, looking around the hallway to see if anyone's noticed. it's lucky for you that nobody did.

"come on, clark. it's one night! not even! it's like, a few hours at most."

"can't you ask someone else? pete?"

"i don't want to ask pete. he won't be able to sell it."

"and you think i can?" he's exasperated, leaning closer to you as if he's suddenly aware how many people could overhear this conversation. "i'm a horrible liar."

"please? you know how my family can be," you whisper, looking up at clark. he sighs, hanging his head. he does know how your family can be—overbearing—which is exactly why he's hesitant. but you're you, so how can he actually say no?

"okay. okay, fine."

"really?" you ask, nearly jumping out of your skin. your arms slide around clark's neck as you excitedly let out a few small 'thank you's. clark's still frozen in place from his decision, but forces one of his arms to slide awkwardly around your hip. he's in for it, isn't he?

the ringing of the school bell pulls the two of you apart, and you quickly shut your locker, making your way towards your first class. clark keeps his place beside you. "so, what does this mean, exactly? what do you want from me?"

"jeez, clark, that sounds like i'm holding you hostage. it's just a favor."

"yeah, yeah. whatever. what do you need me to do?" he asks, taking his seat next to you at the lab table.

"i don't know. whatever feels natural," you say, bending to the side to pull your textbook out of your bag, a gesture which clark never would've took a second glance at. but today, with your hair falling in front of your face (and then you pushing it away), something's different. he doesn't even notice he forgot to say something in response to you until you glance back at him, confused at his silence.

"uh—" he clears his throat. "how am i supposed to know what's natural? we've never dated before." oops. overly sarcastic.

"have you never even considered it?"

"what?" clark's baffled by your question, but you ask it so casually, like it's not taking the ground out from beneath his feet. it's not that he hasn't considered it. it's that he has. he knows all too well how he wants to walk with his arm around your shoulders, how he wants to have you cuddle into his side as you watch a movie, how he wants to absolutely spoil you—as if he has the money for that anyway. "i—"

"you know what? forget i said that. i don't wanna know," you mutter. "just, like, pretend like you're obsessed with me, i don't know."

"hey, lovebirds! you done?" the teacher calls from the front of the classroom.

as clark starts, "oh, we're n—"

you say, "sorry! we're sorry." and then the both of you, red in your faces, stay silent. you barely even move, feeling reprimanded, even though your teacher was barely offended.

when the teacher lets the class work in pairs, clark decides to use the time to talk to you instead. he could do the work later. "can you just give me an idea of what the night's going to look like, at least?"

you take a quick glance at the teacher, making sure her eyes aren't on you and clark. "you'll come over and i'll introduce you as my boyfriend. my parents won't be suspicious, because i'll start bringing it up today. and they won't be too intimidating. my uncle might, but they'll love you. there's something about you that screams 'good guy' and they'll pick up on it." you twirl the pen in your hands. "it'll be fine. you have nothing to worry about, really." clark feels his heart skip a beat when you place your hand on his bicep—which is supposed to be a comforting gesture. what's happening to him? you've touched him before. plenty of times, actually. this shouldn't mean a thing.

a few days later, and clark is taking deep breaths as he walks down the path to your front door. before he can even meet the porch, you're outside, greeting him. he nearly stops in his tracks when he sees you, your hair half up, half down. the dress you're wearing is baby pink, and something about this sight—seeing you so... girly does something to him, even if he won't admit it.

"hi," you say, breaking the awkward silence. "ignore the dress, i'm trying something a little different."

"no, it's good. you look great," he forces. and then, he remembers he's supposed to be your boyfriend, he's allowed to flirt with you. "you look really pretty." he swears he sees your expression change, like you're nervous. it makes his hand tense, and he nearly crushes the stems of the flowers he forgot he's holding. "oh, these are for you."

"thank you. this is..."

"good enough, i hope?"

"better. i knew you wouldn't let me down."

"can't leave my girlfriend hanging, can i?" oh. oh. that gets you. and clark knows it, too.

"uh—" you start, looking at him with what can only be described as a mix of shock and infatuation. "we should go inside."

and as you're walking towards your front door—"i should call you something, shouldn't i?"

"what?" you turn back around, facing him.

"honey," he tries. "no, too mature. babe?" clark watches your reactions carefully, and even though you seem affected, 'babe' doesn't have the punch he was hoping for. "sweetheart?" bingo.

"sweetheart is fine," you mutter, trying to ignore the way your face heats up.

"okay, sweetheart. you ready for this?" you nod, walking towards the door with clark at your side. "what about princess?"

"too much. you can't call me that in front of my family."

"but i can call you that when we're alone?"

"clark!"

"it's just a question, sweetheart," clark teases, fighting back a chuckle. he could do this the rest of his life.

part two coming soon?!

[utopiastri]

Put That Guy in a SituationTM - look something about Landoscar in a 20/32 type situation has me hooked….trying to not let others on to their predicament, maybe it’s a bit embarrassing how it happened 🤔

hi anon!!! thank you for the prompt! i went a smidge away from my usual cutesy fluff for this one - your suggestion of embarrassment really sparked something in my brain, even if i took it in a slightly different direction. i hope you enjoy!!!

(prompt list here)

“Look, we just gotta act natural,” Lando says.

Or, well, Lando-as-Oscar says, because it sounds like Oscar’s voice and it’s Oscar’s mouth that’s moving, but it’s Lando that’s actually saying the words and–

Lando-in-Oscar’s-body huffs. “You’re having a crisis again aren’t you?”

“You know it’s weirder of you to be 100% ok with this.”

“It’s a body swap curse, mate, it’s not rocket science.”

Oscar runs a hand through his hair and cringes at the uncanny feeling of there being someone else’s hair on top of his head. “I understand the concept, Lando, what I’m struggling with is everything else related to it like, I don't know, how the fuck this happened."

“I don’t know. Do you reckon we need to have sex to break the curse?”

“What?” Oscar squawks, “Why would we need to have sex to break the curse?”

Lando flushes. “I dunno. Just felt like the right solution.”

“Based on what?”

Lando mumbles something about seeing it online once and Oscar chooses to ask no more follow-up questions lest Lando tells him he learnt about it from some random porn he watched once. He heaves a sigh.

“Listen, like you said, we should just act normal. This whole thing is,” Oscar pauses to search for the right word, “Strange. And I’d really rather not bring anyone else into it to begin with.”

“Agreed,” Lando says before adding, “Hey, if we’re still like this for the race tomorrow and I win but in your body, does that mean you get the points?” Oscar glares at him and Lando pouts. “It’s a genuine question!” he whines.

Oscar’s about to point out they have bigger things to focus on than the effects of this on a race when Jon sticks his head into the room.

“Debrief in five, guys.”

“Sounds good, mate,” Lando says, in an accent no human being has ever used before.

Jon blinks at him. He turns to look at Oscar. Or, rather, he turns to look at Oscar who he thinks is Lando. Oscar smiles weakly.

“He’s, uh, trying to do an impression of me doing an Australian impression," Oscar lies, hoping it sounds vaguely believable.

“Oi!” Lando says, “My Australian accent’s mint.”

“Yes, Oscar,” Oscar says pointedly, “Your Australian accent would be mint because you are from Australia.”

Lando's eyes light up in realisation and he starts nodding furiously. “Right, yep, what he said, exactly.”

Jon blinks at both of them this time. He sighs.

“If you two are doing roleplay, I don’t want to hear about it.” Lando and Oscar both start spluttering, but Jon keeps on talking over both of them. “Just be on time for debrief.”

With Jon gone, Oscar breathes a sigh of relief. Or he starts to, until Lando pipes up.

“I still reckon us having sex will fix it.”

Oscar reminds himself that if he kills Lando right now, he’s possibly going to do irreparable damage to his own body.

The thought’s still tempting.

“Is there a particular reason you’re so desperate to have sex with yourself?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

Lando clearly wasn't expecting that question because he freezes. Oscar’s always hated how easily he flushes but right now, watching it brutally incriminate Lando, he can’t help but be grateful for it.

“I’m not fucking desperate to have sex with myself.” He doesn't sound like he's lying, but the blush on his face suggests he's not telling the whole truth.

Maybe…

His eyebrows raise. “So you’re only desperate to have sex with me then?”

Lando looks up at Oscar, eyes wide. He swallows.

Got you, Oscar thinks to himself.

[themoonlitquill]

Whispers Woven in Shadow. (2/?)

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧? 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚? 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚? 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮.

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 ; 𝖠𝗓𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗅 𝗑 𝖥𝖾𝗆!𝖮𝖢 (𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; Okay, first of all, you guys are AMAZING. 🥹🩵 Thank you so much for all the love and comments on the first chapter! I honestly didn’t think anyone would like it because of all the incredible Azriel fics out there, but I’m grateful for how well-received it is! I hope you enjoy this just as much! And thank you again to @coffeebooksrain18 for the moodboard. She does an amazing job, so check her out pls!

𝖳𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ; 𝗠𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳-𝗱𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳-𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲, 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗻, 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘂𝗺𝗮, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿-𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗺𝗼𝗶𝗹.

𝖶𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖢𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 ; 3633.

The shadow spoke in a breathless whisper, trickling in with the cool breeze of the night, and a hand flew up to her mouth. She held in whatever sound was threatening to burst free and struggled for a minute to remain focused.

I can hear you in my head! Just like I do myself. Oh! Ariadne blinks in a rush, her vision becoming watery. You’re the first voice that I’ve ever heard in my life besides my own! This is incredible! Have I always been able to do this?

Since you were Made.

Does this mean I can talk to anyone now? Ariadne felt like she was going to explode, every one of her limbs trembling as she tried to process exactly what it was that was happening; she could hear - not in a traditional sense, but it was still something - and it was the most exciting thing that she had ever had.

Once you learn.

She supposed that made sense. It would be just like anything else; practice makes perfect and being immortal meant she had nothing but time, right?

Will you… help? Ariadne opens her palm as the shadow circles around before wrapping around her arm. Normally, I’d teach myself but this isn’t exactly the same as what I’ve done in the past. I don’t even know where to start. Does Azriel know you’re here? Did he send you? Does he know too? Does anyone else?

You will be led in the right direction. And no to your other questions.

How did you end up knowing? Especially when no one else did? That was what was bothering her the most. If the shadows were commanded, then why had this one in particular broke away from the rest to come to her?

The shadows gather information from all across Prythian and have come across Daemati before. They are rare, but they are out there. Feyre Cursebreaker is one. We could sense it in you.

Then why wouldn’t Azriel know? Aren’t you supposed to report everything to him?

Not always.

It sounded almost amused at that and Ariadne was beginning to realize that Azriel’s shadows had a mind of their own. Emotion too. That would definitely be something.

But for now, you need to sleep. There are bruises under your eyes.

She rests her other hand in her lap, trailing the tip of her finger along the embroidered filigree. I don’t sleep very well.

You have nightmares.

Her eyes widened a fraction. How did you know that?

When you made the entrance in the wall in your mind, you allowed access to what is inside and everything is chaotic in here. I did not snoop.

A tickling sensation bubbles up in her throat and Ariadne quickly swallows it back down; she didn’t know what her laugh sounded like, so she didn’t do it often. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed.

I don’t know why, but I believe you. I’ll… work on the chaos, the corner of her mouth curves upwards, not quite a smile but it was progress. And I’ll try to sleep too. I won’t make any promises though.

Good. Tomorrow, we will go to the library.

Ariadne’s gaze flicks to the closed door and she nibbles on the inside of her lip. Today was the first time she had left this room and now she was going to do it the very next day? Even if - she had to admit - it wasn’t so bad. Nothing horrible happened to her and she had managed to do what she wanted, almost, on her own.

Surely she could make it to the library and back with a similar result.

Alright, she nods. I can do that.

Of course you can. Sleep now.

The shadow’s whisper leaves her mind and she blinks, feeling around at the opalescent wall to see the opening was still there. How could she close it? Think of it molding back, Ariadne takes a breath. Piece by piece until it’s shut.

She grits her teeth with the effort it takes, a bit of sweat forming on her brow as the pressure builds beneath her skull; her breaths were heavier and there was a flash of bright light behind her eyes, yet she continued on until it began to come together.

It wasn’t happening as fast as she would’ve liked and it hurt, but by that damn Cauldron, she was doing it.

And she couldn’t help the glimmer of pride that shone in her when the opening closed completely, leaving only that moonlight glow behind.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

The nightmares came as they always did. In flashes of images that she desperately wanted to forget and in bursts of pain that reminded her she had screamed in the water after being thrown in, and there had been no one to hear her as liquid filled her lungs, cutting off her air supply and choking, burning. Too much. It felt like everything was on fire and she was being torched from the inside out.

And she never wanted to feel that ever again.

It also led to her only lightly napping for a couple hours, which did her no good at all, but she was in no position to complain either. Everything had happened so quickly, even if she was sleeping well, it would still take awhile to recover.

At least she tried.

Ariadne had managed to wash up in the bathroom, which actually went better than she thought, and was already dressed, though she didn’t eat. Her appetite could still use some work. None of it was appealing and made her want to vomit, in truth, so that was for another day.

The shadow hadn’t come back yet and it was approaching mid-morning. Did that mean she was expected to go alone? She’d never been there before and sure, the kitchen was easy enough to find, but what if this was harder?

And that means what? That you’re going to quit? You’ve dealt with worse and you can make it to the library on your own, Ariadne stands with a huff and strides over to the door, opening it and walking out to the left instead of the right. See, I can do it myself.

She keeps going with purpose in each step and passes by the doors that housed more bedrooms until she reaches the end of the hall. It curves to the left and she decides to follow it, figuring this was the best option right now.

I wonder if Nesta has at least been reading. I know she’s worried about Elain, but she needs to worry about herself too, Ariadne glances over her shoulder as if she would find the steely-eyed gaze of her sister and is relieved when she doesn’t. Maybe you could bring her some after you’re done.

It would give her a chance to feel some sort of connection back to their old life and what she loved to do.

They all needed that.

Ariadne’s fingers twitch and she takes a breath as she looks up to see a set of double doors, made of some sort of mahogany - she guessed - with iron handles. Hilarious, she rolls her eyes and pulls it open to see inside. Ah-ha! I’m good at this.

She’d found the library.

It smelled like ink and paper with a hint of lemons. And it was cozy too, with overstuffed armchairs and a loveseat arranged around the fireplace, decorative pillows, tables with potted lilies and vines, stacks of notes, plush rugs, and rows and rows of shelves filled with books.

You gotta be kidding me, Ariadne walks over to one of the shelves and runs her fingers over the spines. There has to be hundreds in here. This is insane, she bites her bottom lip. Where do I even start?

She squints at the titles and selects a few that she thought might be useful, along with one or two that just seemed like they would be fun to read. It couldn’t hurt to see what type of fiction was over here in Prythian.

After gathering them all in her arms, Ariadne makes her way over to one of the armchairs and sets the stack of books on the small table beside it. She moves to grab for plain paper and something to write with when a bound leather notebook and a cream colored quill with an inkpot appears right before her eyes.

Just like the orange juice, she sits down and pulls her legs up underneath herself. Amazing, really. I didn’t even have to ask you to do that, the first book she grabs is one about magic and powers of the Fae in Prythian; if any of them would have information about Daemati, this would - probably - be the one.

Ariadne flips it open and runs her finger along the page, finding herself wondering how old it was, how far the history went back. It was truly something to think about.

The seven Courts of Prythian each have a type of magic that is specific to that area and the High Lords are the most powerful, some of them even having additional abilities.

Winter Court Fae have ice manipulation, which also extends to frost and snow.

Autumn Court Fae have fire, able to create and wield flames.

Summer Court Fae control water, forming it into any shape, any size, and will it where they wish.

Spring Court Fae are connected to the earth and air, finding their power in nature and blending into their surroundings.

Dawn Court Fae brings the art of healing, producing some of the greatest Healers in Prythian, talented enough to mend any injury.

Day Court Fae have light and are able to break through darkness, showing the truth. High Lord Helion is known as the Spell-Cleaver.

Night Court Fae controls darkness, bending it to their will and stealing sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell.

Ariadne tilts her head and quickly grabs the notebook and quill, settling the inkpot on the arm of the chair and beginning to jot down notes. She wanted to know everything that she could; Feyre came back with multiple powers after being resurrected and who was to say the same hadn’t happened to her?

She deserved to know that about herself if that were the case.

To control the mind is deadly. If a Fae holds this power and wields it against another, death is certain to follow.

That didn’t seem like something she would be able to do, so maybe it was just the mind reading then? Or rather, Daemati? What was the difference?

Ariadne underlines a few times and turns through the pages in search of the word ‘Daemati’, knowing that there had to be something. Rare or not.

They are called Daemati. This is an exceedingly rare gift that the Mother only hands out to those She chooses. A Fae who has this ability can read, influence, and shatter one’s mind.

Many, especially those in positions of power, learn to train against a Daemati. The methods differ for each Fae and each Court.

So it did mean she would be able to do that. Supposedly. But how? Ariadne wasn’t a violent person and to crush someone’s mind and kill them? There was no way she could ever be capable of something like that.

Not in a million years.

All she wanted was to be able to talk with another person - even if it wasn’t the usual way, who cares? - and then it wouldn’t just be her anymore, which was huge. It was something she had wanted for a long time and she would be a fool not to at least venture into the mind reading portion of it.

And letting in another person like she had managed with the shadow last night.

Ariadne wanted to figure out how, but it seemed that whoever had written this one decided not to give out too much information on the subject. I could ask Rhysand? He’s one, isn’t he? But I have no idea how to ask him and even if I did… I don’t really want to, she frowns.

It can’t be too hard. If a Daemati controls the mind, then I’d need something to protect myself, wouldn’t I? That’s what that wall could’ve been. Think about it, she taps her finger on the page. You had to create an opening for the shadow to get in and be able talk to you, then when it left, you had to close it back.

Her finger moves faster and she sits up a little straighter, writing down a few more notes. That keeps people out, but also lets people in, she dips the end of the quill into the ink. And from what the shadow said, it could see I had nightmares and said it was chaotic, so maybe I have to organize everything and keep certain things locked away. Like in a safe.

The movement of the quill across the paper quickened, putting all Ariadne’s thoughts in black and white, her mind racing with how much she was discovering and absorbing already.

That’ll be hard, considering I’ve never had to worry about anyone being in my head before. Not impossible though, which is good. Where should I start? Raising and lowering the wall? That would be the obvious choice, she places the cap on the inkpot and sets it back on the table, not wanting it to spill. Okay, her eyes fall to a close. Imagine a doorway forming in the light, a big enough space for a person. Just like last time.

She takes a steadying breath with her hands clasped together in her lap, beginning to focus on an entryway and feeling her body shake with the effort; her nails dig into soft flesh and she withholds a wince, knowing that her concentration couldn’t be broken, not when the wall was coming apart little by little.

Come on, come on, Ariadne’s brow furrows and she bites down on the inside of her lip, her breathing slightly quicker and more labored than usual. Almost there. A little more and you got it.

With a final push, the opening appears in the same spot it had before and she very nearly cheers aloud, but quickly decides against it and instead, she gives herself a small pat on the back. Well done, Ari! Again.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

She wasn’t sure how long she spent in the library, a few hours at least, or how long she had been practicing opening and closing the door in her mind, but she was sure that she needed a break. It seemed she had gone too far and exhausted herself even more so than she already was.

Probably not the best idea.

And she realized how deep she had gone with the way her once artfully messy bun was now falling to the nape of her neck, strands of rich brown and caramel frazzled in complete disarray; what a sight she must be.

Ariadne sighs and closes all the books she had read through, stacking them on the table along with the notebook and standing up to stretch herself out. A couple of her joints pop and she makes a face. What time is it? It has to be past lunch, she wiggles her toes against the carpet, thinking for a moment.

You should probably try and eat something. When was the last time you even ate? Do you remember? She couldn’t. It must’ve been when she was still human, which definitely wasn’t a good thing.

With a final sigh, Ariadne leaves the library and makes her way back in the direction that she came, knowing that she would be able to find the kitchen again fairly easily. She didn’t really want any food, but it had been awhile and she had to have something eventually, if she didn’t want to waste away to nothing, that is.

She enters the kitchen and finds it empty, as usual, her hands splaying out across the countertop as she mulls over what she might be able to keep down.

Soup, maybe? I won’t have to chew and it sounds less intimidating than anything else, a small hum, followed by honey eyes lifting to gaze at the ceiling. Would you mind getting me some? Tomato, please. Nice and hot.

There’s a shift in the air and in a matter of seconds, a steaming bowl appears in front of her, along with a spoon and a porcelain cup filled with tea; Ariadne offers the smallest hint of a smile. Thank you.

She grabs one of the stools and pulls it over before perching herself on top of it, feet dangling a few feet off the floor as she leans over to take the first spoonful into her mouth. It was smooth and creamy, igniting her tastebuds with the flavor of tomato, basil, and a subtle heat - pepper flake? - that elicited a small groan from her throat.

It was one of the best things she had ever had and she wanted to scold herself for not eating sooner. Better late than never, I suppose. Right?

Ariadne continues to eat, taking a small break in-between bites to add milk and sugar to her tea; she stirs it slowly and taps the spoon lightly on the rim before taking a sip. Her eyelids flutter. Gods, that’s good, she licks her lips and goes back to the soup. I should check on Nesta and Elain after this, shouldn’t I? But what would I be able to do? I still don’t know how to talk to them yet. Maybe waiting would be the smarter decision. I’m sure the last thing Nesta wants to do is read or write anything down.

The youngest Archeron was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the little shadow that had flitted towards her until she felt a cool sensation around her ankle. She looks down and her eyes brighten, immediately working to open the doorway in the shimmering wall of her mind.

It happens fairly quickly, much easier than it had when she first started, and she feels the presence of it enter.

There you are! I thought you said ‘we’ were going to the library.

The shadow wraps tighter around Ariadne’s ankle, its voice still that same breathy whisper. You managed just fine without me. It’s time you realize and accept that you are capable of more than you think.

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. How did it know her so well already? It was a bit unsettling, but not entirely unwelcome. Then why are you here now? If I can manage so well without you, as you say.

We were worried.

We?

Yes, Ariadne. We.

There was a part of her that wanted to ask more questions, but she also felt that if she were supposed to know, she would’ve been told. She had never been one to pry, always fearing that she would be overstepping somehow.

And even though the shadow wasn’t a real person talking to her, it was all she had right now and she wasn’t about to make it go away by not shutting up when she needed to.

Which is why she chooses to change the subject instead.

I know how to make the entry in the wall and how to close it. I practiced for a few hours. Not perfected, but that should mean I’ll be able to talk to someone else now, yeah? Ariadne feels goosebumps rise on her skin when it moves from her ankle to her calf, then disappearing entirely. Hey! Where did you g-!

The shadow reappears on her shoulder, the end of it looping through her hair and she felt a small vibration in the back of her mind; was it… purring?

No. Surely not. That was ridiculous.

Very good. I am proud of you. And yes, you should try it.

A warmth blossoms in Ariadne’s chest, spreading through her veins and giving her a sense of something akin to happiness. No one had ever been proud of her before. There was never a reason to be and now that there was, she found she liked the feeling.

What else had she missed out on?

Thank you! That’s sweet of you to say and it means a lot actually, her head turns, hand lifting to brush her fingers over the silken shadow. I’m nervous though, she swallows. I don’t know if how I talk in my head is okay for a normal conversation. What if…

She falls silent. What if she sounded… wrong?

What if how she ‘talked’ was silly and amateur? What if she didn’t make sense and confused them? Ariadne thought she sounded alright, but then again, no one could read minds as humans and tell her otherwise; she could come off utterly ridiculous for all she knew.

Do not think that way about yourself, the shadow’s whisper had changed, now holding a slight edge to its words and she couldn’t help but wonder why. You have a brilliant mind and what you are lacking does not take away from that in any way.

Ariadne blinks, caught off guard and momentarily rendered speechless. It was strange; it almost seemed… upset with her, which didn’t make sense. Why would it be when it barely knew her? Either she was predictable or more had been seen last night than what was admitted.

I just don’t want to be… foolish, her tone had lowered, now a whisper of her own, though it was meek and not at all like how she normally was. I’ve only ever talked to myself and how would I know what I’m going to sound like to another person?

No way to know unless you try.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ; @ashblooddragons , @rcarbo1 , @waytoomanyteenagefeels , @prettylittlewrites .

[biancadoes1]

If this is how Luke treats his girlfriend, they why do we want him for Nic? Our queen deserves better!

We saw the love and respect that they have for each other, but her 'just' friend interview followed by the Boss event debacle seems very strange, not on his grid and nothing from her?

He said in one of the BTS 'Im an actor, that's what I do', well if he is more interested in having countless holidays, parading arm candy, and seeking modelling rather than acting jobs, then Nic is doing the right thing by being a friend and 'just' that. Narrow escape if you ask me.

Let me rip you a new asshole, anon.

First off, grown woman Nicola Coughlan is going to decide what’s best for her and what she deserves. She’s her own person. We can want things for her, sure, but ultimately it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme.

Also, what does the just friend interview and the Boss event do to make you question or even link their mutual love and respect they have for each other? No matter what you believe is happening here, the love and respect we had the opportunity to see between them hasn’t changed. This tells me you think Luke is picking at her or some shit which is stupid af.

And thank you for showing your hurt feelings by reducing Luke to a vapid asshole frat boy that he’s been characterized as heavily since June. I thought it had lightened up a bit after his People SMA spread and interview but here we fucking go again.

Answer me this:

1. How many holidays equals countless? Because we saw maybe two or three trips after he worked and traveled and did press for six months? And if he took more, how do we know that wasn’t for work? You don’t.

2. Parading arm candy? When have you seen arm candy paraded? Antonia at GQ? Work event. Rory’s bday? A friend trip. Is she on his IG stories? Is she on his grid? Seems like he’s never planned to post her. I don’t call that parading either when he’s unknowingly part of a picture posted by friends.

3. Modeling jobs? People SMA is always a photo shoot. Are you referring to that or those pap pictures (that I believe were planned)? Are you forgetting he was filming a movie in Rome around Christmas time? So wtf are you talking about no acting jobs???

You sound like a hurt bitch. I can’t stand hurt bitches too because they like to come up and start saying shit like this when their own insecurities feel like they’re taking a hit.

And because you’re a hurt bitch all the sudden Nicola has made a ‘narrow escape’. Meanwhile your ass was probably up in the notes rooting him on when he was quiet everywhere.

Stop projecting yourself on to this woman. It’s not cute and you look weird.

[quintessenceofdust88]

Life is Changin' Tides, ch. 4 🌊

[Ch. 1]

[Ch. 2]

[Ch. 3]

[Read on AO3]

Sal is exactly where Tommy left him; sitting up on the bed, a pained look on his face as he frantically looks around. "The second he spots Tommy and Vivie, his face is taken over with relief, and Tommy can see how desperately he wishes to get up, but he doesn't. He just grips the sheets, staring at them intensely, his face going from anxious to relieved.

"Vivie!" He exclaims, and Tommy's daughter raises her head so fast that he worries she’ll have whiplash."

-

Everyone reunites. There's a lot of apologizing. There's a little bit of oversharing (it's the painkiller's fault).

When Tommy wished for a guardian angel watching over Genevieve, he didn’t think the universe would take him so literally. Because this man, this Evan? With earnest big blue eyes, blond curls, a pink birthmark that looks almost like a heart against his eyebrow? Yeah, that’s an angel he’s looking at.

He doesn’t have much of a chance to look at him, though, because as soon as Tommy thanks him, the man promptly passes out in front of them.

“Buck!” Captain Nash exclaims in surprise, and extends his arms to support him. His eyes are furrowed in concern, and both Hen and Howie are also fussing over Evan. Tommy has never seen this man before, but it’s clear they all know and care about him.

Thankfully there’s an empty bed close, and Nash lays Evan in it with surprising gentleness, in a way that vaguely reminds Tommy of when he puts Vivie to bed. And speaking of which.

Tommy finally manages to stop hugging Genevieve for long enough that he can take a good look at her. Her beautiful yellow dress, a present from his Nonna, is filthy, covered in grime and dirt (thankfully no blood); her hair is matted and frizzy, escaping out of the pigtails Tommy’s done for her this morning, and she looks pale and exhausted. She’s still the most beautiful sight Tommy has ever laid his eyes upon, and he can’t get enough of looking at her.

“Vivie, oh my God, I was so worried!” He admits, placing a thousand kisses to her wet hair, her sweaty forehead, her flushed cheeks. “Are you okay, baby? Does anything hurt?” Tommy asks gently, checking her face and arms for bruises or cuts, but thankfully, probably thanks to this Evan angel, his baby girl looks perfectly unharmed.

“I’m fine, Daddy! But what happened to Mr. Evan?! Is he gonna be okay?!” She asks agitatedly, her arms firmly wrapped around Tommy’s neck. Her blue eyes are looking scaredly at Evan’s unconscious form, and Tommy rubs her back soothingly. Her grip around his neck tightens, seeking comfort that Tommy is more than happy to provide.

Howie, who looks a thousand times less worried once Hen hooks Evan up to a saline IV and it looks like he’ll be alright, rushes to them when he hears Vivie’s question. He smiles sweetly at her, and she smiles a little back at him.

“Hey, kiddo, don’t you worry about Buck, okay?” He tells her. “If I tell you a secret, do you promise not to tell him? Cause I don’t want his head getting too big.”

That gets a small giggle out of her, and Tommy would hug Howard if he didn’t have an armful of Genevieve. She nods eagerly, and looks curiously at the other man. Frankly, so does Tommy.

“Well, that guy?” He says, pointing at Evan, who still hasn’t woken up, but he’s lying peacefully now, his cheeks starting to get some flush in them. (God, he’s handsome, a treacherous part of Tommy’s brain says, and he promptly tells it to shut up). “Toughest guy I know. He survived a lot of crazy stuff, and he’ll be just fine, I promise.”

“For real?” She asks, and Howie nods as if he’s complete sure of himself.

“Totally for real.” He says, and winks at her. “He’s a survivor, just like your dad Tommy here.”

Tommy feels his cheeks flush, and he smiles gratefully at Howard. Vivie looks between them, curiosity clear in her face.

“You know my Daddy?! How?!” She asks in wonder, and Howie and Tommy smile at each other, but Howie points his hand at him, giving Tommy the chance to explain it to his kid.

“Actually, Vivie, mr. Howard here saved Daddy’s life once, can you believe it? Way before you were born.” He explains, and Vivie gasps.

“So mr. Howard is a hero too?!” She asks, notably impressed, and Howie shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck.

He’s saved from having to answer, though, because there is a man coming towards them with a boy, a bit older than Vivie, secure in his arms. The boy is looking at Evan, with eyes full of worry, and so is the man. With a jolt, Tommy recognizes him as the paramedic that was taking care of Sal earlier.

“Chim!”, the medic exclaims, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He looks at Evan, who’s fidgeting slightly, but still has his eyes closed, and then back at Howie. “Is Buck alright?!”

“Will Buck be okay?!” The boy asks at the same time, his voice breaking as he sniffles.

His red hoodie is as dirty as Vivie’s clothes, and Tommy realizes he was probably caught in the tsunami too. He wonders briefly if the kid is Evan’s son, but then realizes he probably wouldn’t call him by a nickname if that was the case.

“Hey, Christopher, Buck will be fine, I promise.” Bobby is the one to answer, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “He’s just a little tired right now. But you can sit by his side until he wakes up, what do you think?”

“Can I, dad?” Christopher asks, and the medic that’s holding him nods, then puts him down by Evan’s bed. He takes Evan’s hand in his, gently squeezing it. Hen gently takes the pair of glasses that are hanging from Buck’s neck and places them on the boy’s face, and he smiles at her.

The familiarity between them makes Tommy realize that his father, the medic that took care of Sal, is with the 118, and the coincidence leaves him speechless. What brings him back to reality is the small tug on his shirt, and as he looks at Vivie, he realizes she’s asking him to put her down. Tommy does, and she goes straight to Christopher with a small smile.

“You’re Christopher, right?” She asks, and the boy nods at her, a frown on his face. “Mr. Evan was worried that you’d be mad at him because he lost you. But you’re not, right?”

“No!” Christopher exclaims, as if the mere idea of being mad at Evan is absurd. “He was trying to help people, it wasn’t his fault!”

“I told him that!” Vivie exclaims triumphantly. “I said he was a hero, and that you wouldn’t be mad.”

“How do you know Buck?” Christopher asks her curiously.

“He saved me! When I got lost from…” She trails off, and her little blue eyes widen as if she’s just remembered something important. Vivie turns back to Tommy, and he sees in alarm that she’s on the verge of tears. “Daddy!”

“What, pixie? What’s the matter?” Tommy asks hurriedly, picking her up again and holding her close, but it’s no good, she’s still agitated, clutching his shirt in her tiny hand.

“Uncle Sal got hurt! We need to find him! I was s-so happy to see you that I forgot, but we need to find him! Mr. Evan was going to help me, but now he can’t, and I don’t want uncle Sal to get more hurt!” She sobs against his shoulder, and Tommy shushes her, rubbing circles on her back and bouncing her slightly.

“Baby, it’s alright, shh.” He whispers to her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I found uncle Sal.”

She looks up at him, her sobs subsiding and her eyes widened in surprise.

“You did?!”

“Well, not me, but someone did and brought him here. But I’ve seen him, and he’s okay, I promise.” Tommy reassures her, and Vivie sobs once more, but it’s filled with relief this time.

“Daddy, do you promise? Can I see him?!” She asks, and Tommy nods right away.

“Of course you can, pixie. He’ll be so happy to see you.” He promises, and then turns to Howard, who’s been watching them with a fond smile. Tommy shifts Vivie so he can hold her with one arm and extends his hand for him. “Howie. Thank you so much. To all of you. I wouldn’t have found her if I hadn’t run into you” He says, looking at Captain Nash, Hen and the medic whose name he still doesn’t know.

“We’re just glad everything turned out okay, Tommy.” Captain Nash says warmly, and Tommy smiles at him.

Then, he looks at Evan’s still unconscious form on the bed, and back at the captain. He desperately wants to thank the man properly, but he knows Vivie won’t be settled until she sees Sal, and he knows his best friend is probably beside himself, wondering what’s happening to Tommy and her. Nash, however, seems to understand Tommy’s struggle, and nods at Tommy.

“Go. We’ll wait.” He reassures him, and Tommy nods gratefully at him.

“We’ll be back.” Tommy promises, and then he is gone, heading towards his best friend, his daughter safely in his arms thanks to the angel he’s leaving behind.

--

Buck doesn’t wake up all at once. Consciousness comes in small waves; at first he’s only aware of the sounds around him, the low murmur of familiar voices that allow him to come back slowly and steadily. Then, he becomes aware of the throbbing pain on his leg, which is stretched out. That’s how he realizes he’s lying down on scratchy sheets that feel very hospital-like (and yes, he wishes he wasn’t that familiar with what hospital sheets feel like). But as the events of the day come back to his memory, a sense of urgency forces him to full conscience, and his eyes open with a rush.

“Christopher! Genevieve!” Buck exclaims, and only when he tries to sit up on the bed does he feel the tug of a small warm hand against his.

“About time you woke up” Christopher says, and Buck looks at him with tear-filled eyes.

The young boy has his glasses back, and that signature smile that never fails to make Buck happy as well. He can’t understand why he’s still on the receiving end of it after everything that happened, though, or why Eddie is allowing Chris to be near him in the first place.

“Chris,” Buck says, sitting up on the bed, and taking Chris’ other hand in his. Because if this is the last time he’ll be allowed to be around him, he’s going to make it count. “Listen, buddy. I am so so sorry. I should have kept you safe, and I didn’t, and I…”

“Yeah, you did.” Chris argues, looking earnestly in Buck’s eyes, and he feels absolutely vulnerable under his gaze. “You kept me safe from the first wave, and you had me safe in the truck.”

“Yeah! But then I lost you!” He says, worried that Christopher is not understanding how bad Buck screwed up.

“Well, yeah, but you looked for me. A lot. Vivie told me. And she told me you thought I’d be mad, but I’m not. You’re still my favorite grown-up, Buck.”

Chris’ words and the way he’s looking back at Buck, like he’s still a hero, like Buck didn’t fail him, are too much. Buck blinks, trying to keep the tears at bay, but he can’t; the day has been too rough. Chris, however, seems to sense Buck’s emotions are getting the best of him; he wraps his small arms around Buck’s waist, resting his head against Buck’s chest. Buck hugs him back, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his curls.

“Thank you, bud. I’m so glad you’re safe.” He whispers, and Chris just hums at him.

“‘Favorite grown-up’, huh? I’m kinda jealous, gotta admit.”

When Buck hears Eddie’s voice, he lets go of Chris and looks up at his best friend, bracing himself for the anger in his eyes. But Eddie is smiling playfully at them, his posture relaxed. As Buck looks around, he faintly notices Hen and Bobby hovering near him, but he can’t talk to them before he apologizes to Eddie; that has to be his priority.

“Eddie! I am so sorry, man, I can’t even begin to…”

“Then don’t.” Eddie says softly, placing a hand on Buck’s shoulder and squeezing it. “Don’t even begin, because you have nothing to apologize for. He’s here, and he’s safe, and that’s all that matters, alright?”

Buck can’t take Eddie’s forgiveness yet, not entirely anyway. There’s still too much guilt pooling on his chest, so he decides to focus on something else.

“And Genevieve? Where is she?” He asks, looking around and not seeing either Genevieve or her father. He tries not to be disappointed by the fact they’re gone; he’d have liked to say goodbye.

“Tommy took her to see her uncle Sal, but they’ll be back.” Bobby tells him, and Buck looks at him in surprise at the amount of information in that short sentence.

“You know her dad’s name?!” It’s the first thing he registers, and then the rest of Bobby’s sentence sinks in. “Wait, you found her uncle?! Is he okay? Is he alive?!”

“Calm down before you pass out again, please.” Bobby asks calmly, and then he sits at Buck’s side, his eyes alternating between Buck and the IV still hooked up to his arm. The captain looks weary and relieved at the same time. “As it turns out, the little girl you were helping is the daughter of a former 118 guy, Tommy Kinard. He’s a pilot at Harbor station now. And Sal, her uncle, is his best friend. He used to work with us too, a long time ago. He’s hurt his head pretty bad, but he’s alright”

“Oh thank God. She was so worried.” Buck says, relaxing back against the pillow. Eddie has taken Chris and they are sitting on a stool next to his bed, cuddling together in silence. That fills Buck with relief, and he sighs, closing his eyes for a bit.

He’s still exhausted, and the dull throbbing in his leg is intensifying into stabs of sharp pain. Buck forced his body to the limit, and now he’s paying the price, but he can’t regret it. Not when Chris and Vivie are reunited with their dads.

Before he can voice his discomfort, though, he sees Chimney jogging towards them. He smiles when he sees Buck is awake, and promptly shoves a water bottle and a cereal bar into his hands.

“Welcome to the land of the living, Buckaroo.” He says, patting his shoulder gently. “Eat something, or Maddie will kill us both.”

“Thanks, Chim” He says hoarsely, sitting up on the bed..

Buck eagerly opens the bottle first, taking a big sip and sighing as it eases the pain on his sore throat. As he takes a small bite of the cereal bar, easing his hunger and thirst, his leg decides it’s done waiting for attention. The pain intensifies, and Buck can’t help but flinch a movement that is quickly caught by Hen’s sharp gaze.

“Alright, Buckaroo, finish your snack so we can get some painkillers into your system.” She asks, and Buck, who’d usually stubbornly reject the idea of using painkillers, especially the strong ones that help his leg, just nods meekly; he’s in too much pain. “And then I think you should take it very easy the next few days. It wasn’t your fault, but you pushed yourself way too hard today.”

“Hen’s right, kid.” Bobby adds gently. “Once the painkillers kick in, we’ll take you home, and then you can get some rest, ok?”

Getting some rest sounds wonderful in Buck’s opinion, and he nods at them both, his mouth too occupied with chewing. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until now.

“Not so fast, Cap.” Chim quips, and inexplicably smirks at Buck. “He can’t go anywhere before Tommy and Vivie come back and he gets to play the hero.”

Buck blushes at that, but he can’t help a small smile from coming to his lips at knowing Genevieve and her father are coming back. And, with a small leap in his heart, he thinks that his giddiness isn’t entirely about Vivie.

But he’s wise enough to keep that thought to himself.

--

Tommy crosses the field hospital with quick strides, Vivie's small frame a comforting weight in his arms. As they walk around, he notices that things are calming down; there are fewer people around, the doctors and nurses don't seem to be rushing so much, and the overall chaos is more controlled.

Things are settling down, as they usually do after a big tragedy, and Tommy privately thinks they’ll only see how bad it was on the next day. He sends a silent thought for all the people who didn’t have the luck he did, of finding the loved ones they lost to the waves.

Sal is exactly where Tommy left him; sitting up on the bed, a pained look on his face as he frantically looks around. The second he spots Tommy and Vivie, his face is taken over with relief, and Tommy can see how desperately he wishes to get up, but he doesn't. He just grips the sheets, staring at them intensely, his face going from anxious to relieved.

"Vivie!" He exclaims, and Tommy's daughter raises her head so fast that he worries she’ll have whiplash.

The minute she sees Sal, she gasps loudly, and her little hand curls up in Tommy’s shirt, gripping it tightly. Vivie’s staring at Sal as if he isn’t real, as if she’s trying to convince herself that he is.

"UNCLE SAL!" Genevieve's exclamation can be heard through the whole hospital, and she tugs insistently at Tommy's shirt. "Daddy, daddy, put me down, please!", she begs, and Tommy is more than happy to abide.

The second her feet hit the floor, she's rushing to Sal's bed, climbing up on it as fast as her little legs allow. Sal wraps his arms around her, pulling Genevieve to his lap and holding her close. Her arms wrap around his neck, and they hug each other tightly. Tommy can see the tension leaving Sal’s shoulders as he wraps his daughter in his strong arms, and his own heartbeat seems to finally settle as he sees them together.

“Vivie, oh my God! I was so worried, kiddo, so worried!” Sal says, his voice thick with emotion like Tommy’s never seen before.

“Me too, uncle Sal!” Vivie says, and then she looks at him, her eyes filled with tears. “Cause you got really hurt, and then I didn’t see you anymore, and I was so afraid!”

It’s clear that all the events of the day are finally catching up to Genevieve, and she lets out a broken sob, her whole body shaking with it. Tommy’s first instinct is to jump in and get her in his arms so he can comfort her, but he holds back. That’s not what Vivie needs; she needs reassurance from the uncle she almost lost, not from him. And he trusts Sal to do it.

“Hey, hey, shh” Sal soothes her gently. “I’m here, you don’t have to be afraid, kiddo.”

He picks Vivie up, sitting her on his lap, pressing her head against his chest. She clutches his filthy Ramones T-shirt in her tiny fist, and Sal runs one massive hand in her hair, messing it up even further. They’ll wash and braid it again when he puts her to bed, which will happen about a thousand hours later than it should, but he couldn’t care less.

“It was scary…” She admits, her voice a tiny whisper, and Tommy’s heart breaks for her.

Genevieve has always been his brave little girl; the only fear she’s ever had was the dark. Tommy has been able to protect her from that, putting a night light in her bedroom, letting her sleep with him when it gets too bad. But will he be able to protect her from this? From the fear of water, fear of the sea, from the nightmares that she’ll get from this? He doesn’t know, and the thought scares him.

“I know, kiddo.” Sal tells her, bringing Tommy back to the present. “It was scary to me too.”

“I r-really thought I wouldn’t see you anymore, uncle Sal.” She tells him, and Sal exchanges a helpless look with Tommy.

Neither of them wanted her to learn what losing someone feels like, and Tommy would have given anything for his daughter not to have this experience. But it’s happened, and now all they can do is reassure her that everything turned out okay in the end.

Sal takes a deep sigh, and then presses a long kiss to Vivie’s forehead. Tommy can see his eyes are filled with tears, but he does his best to swallow them and smile at the little girl on his lap. “What, and leave all the fun of watching you grow up to your boring dad? No way, kiddo.”

Genevieve lets out a watery giggle at that, looking from Sal to Tommy. “Daddy, uncle Sal said you’re boring!” She gasps, and Tommy smiles wryly, coming closer to them.

“I heard it, baby. Maybe we should let Uncle Sal go home on foot, then? He won’t want a ride with someone this boring after all.”

“Nah, I’ll take it the ride. Even if you’re boring, Vivie is cool.” Sal teases, Sal teases, which makes Vivie giggle in delight and Tommy smack his shoulder (a lot more lightly than he normally would). Then, his expression turns serious, and he looks earnestly at his best friend.

“Tommy. I am sorry, man. I am so sorry.” He says, and Tommy can see he’s about to cry again. Without a word, he wraps his arms firmly around Sal, Vivie caught between them, and hugs his best friend tightly.

“I know. You don’t have to be. What matters to me is that you’re both okay.” Tommy says, and he means every word. Sal pats his back and nods at him when Tommy finishes the hug.

He sits by the edge of Sal’s bed, and Vivie scrambles from Sal’s lap to his, cuddling up against his chest. Her body is heavy against his, exhaustion catching up to her. He holds her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“How are you feeling, man?” Tommy asks, and Sal smirks at him.

“Like I’ve been hit in the head by debris.” He quips, and Tommy glares at him until he shrugs. “Look, I think I’ll be worse in the morning. They gave me good stuff for the pain, so I won’t feel it for real until tomorrow.”

“Yeah, well, it’d make me a hell lot more comfortable if you spent the night with us. I don’t want you going home alone.” Tommy says, and Sal rolls his eyes, poking Vivie’s arm.

“Your dad is such a mother hen, isn’t he?” He teases, and the little girl giggles. Tommy loves that sound more than anything in the world. “But okay, I think a sleepover sounds fun.”

“Sleepover!” Vivie celebrates, making Tommy and Sal chuckle. Then Sal frowns, as if he remembered something, and a sad expression takes over his face.

“Aw, kiddo, and I still owe you a unicorn, don’t I? Can’t believe we went through all that trouble and you didn’t get him in the end.”

Vivie gasps at that, kneeling on the bed and covering her mouth with her tiny hands. She looks from Tommy to Sal and then to the floor, her eyes widening.

“No, uncle Sal, but I did get him! I protected Marsh, but I forgot him with Mr. Evan! Daddy, we have to go back to your firefighter friends and get him back!”

“We will, baby. Daddy wants to thank mr. Evan anyway.” Tommy reassures her, and Sal frowns at him.

“Mr. Evan? ‘Firefighter friends’? The hell she is talking about, Tommy?” He asks, and Tommy refrains himself from scolding him for saying ‘hell’ in front of Vivie, because she doesn’t seem to pay much attention.

Tommy smirks, already anticipating Sal’s reaction to knowing it was Nash’s team that got Tommy to Vivie. “So, you’re never gonna believe this…”

--

After telling the whole story to Sal and telling him to stay put until Tommy comes for him (‘What, you think I wanna get up and go give Nash a hug and a cupcake? I’m better off here, thanks’), Tommy takes Vivie back to where the 118 was gathered around Evan’s bed.

Sal, who’s much better at keeping up with LAFD gossip than Tommy, has already informed him that Evan is the firefighter who got caught under the ladder truck a few months ago, and that only makes Tommy admire the man even more. He can only imagine how painful it must have been, walking around with a kid all day with his leg still recovering from such a trauma.

When they get there, they’re greeted by the sound of laughter, and the bed is surrounded by Nash, Howie and Hen. The medic - Eddie, according to Sal - is sitting on a stool, with his kid asleep against his chest. They’re all looking at Evan with exasperated fondness and soft smiles.

Evan himself is leaning against the pillow, his leg stretched out in front of him. His cheeks are flushed, and he doesn’t look as exhausted anymore, but his blue eyes are hazy and his smile is a little loopy. Even so, Tommy can’t help but notice he is absolutely gorgeous, and that his earlier comparison to an angel was not too out there; Evan has positively cherubic features, and the fact that he has his arms wrapped around an unicorn plushie only adds to his charm.

“Marsh!” Vivie exclaims the minute she spots the plushie, and everyone turns to them.

Tommy smiles at them in greeting as Vivie tugs on his T-shirt to let her down. Tommy does, and she rushes to Evan’s bed, stopping herself before climbing in it and looking at him shyly. Evan, however, smiles at her, bright and welcoming, and Tommy’s heart skips a treacherous beat. Get a grip, Kinard, you can’t lose it just because he is kind to your kid. He’s probably straight anyway, he tells himself firmly, but his eyes are still taking in the charming scene unfolding in front of him.

“C’mere, Vivie.” Evan says, and it’s the first time Tommy’s hearing his voice. It’s warm, and cheery, even though his speech is a little slurred, probably from everything that happened.

He pats the mattress next to him, and Genevieve doesn’t need to be told twice. She climbs up on the bed, and Evan offers the unicorn to her. “Your friend was missing you, you know?”, he tells her with a lovely smile.

“You kept him safe for me, Mr. Evan! Thank you!” She says in wonder, hugging the plushie close to her chest. Then, she looks at Evan, and puts the plushie aside, kneeling on the bed and wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against his flushed one. “And thank you for keeping me safe. You made things not so scary, and you helped me find Uncle Sal.”

It’s clear the heartfelt thanks from the five-year-old takes Evan off-guard, and he’s slow on his reaction. Still, he wraps his arms around her, closing his eyes in delight, gently stroking her hair.

“You’re quite welcome, baby. Having you with me made things not so scary too, so thank you. For helping me to get here.”

The others are all watching the scene with a mix of fondness and amusement. Tommy himself could forever stand there and watch this ridiculously adorable man interact with his kid, but he can’t; he has his own thanks to give. He approaches the bed slowly, and both Vivie and Evan look up at him. His daughter promptly holds the unicorn up so Tommy can see it. It’s wet, and filthy, but he guesses it’s still sort of cute.

“Look, Daddy, this is Marsh! Uncle Sal got him for me!” She tells him excitedly, and Tommy chuckles, bending down to kiss her forehead.

“Marsh looks like a great addition to your plushie friends, baby. He’ll probably look even better after we give him a bath.” He muses, and Vivie giggles, going back to stroke the plushie’s fur gently.

What surprises Tommy, though, and apparently everyone else, is that Evan giggles right along. Tommy refuses to acknowledge how adorable it is to see this 6-foot-2 man giggling along with his five-year-old.

“Isn’t that funny, though? A unicorn taking a bath? It should be a glitter bath at least.” He says, and then laughs at his own joke. His friends are looking at him in amusement, and Hen crosses her arms, smirking.

“I guess the painkillers are kicking in, huh, Buckaroo?” She says fondly, and Evan tries to handwave her, but the gesture is a tad bit clumsy.

“M’fine!” He exclaims, and then he runs a hand on Vivie’s plushie, looking at it in wonder. “Oh my God, he is so soft! Eddie, have you ever seen a softer plushie?”

Eddie snickers, and so does Chimney. Bobby is staring at Evan with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. And Tommy? Tommy is trying very hard not to melt from the sheer cuteness.

“Tommy, if you have anything to say to him, I think you should say it now, before we completely lose him.” Chim recommends with a chuckle, and Tommy startles. He does have something to say.

He turns to Evan, and the man has a loopy smile on his face, looking at Tommy with hazy eyes filled with something that he can’t quite define, but it makes Tommy blush furiously. He fidgets with the hem of his shirt, and forces himself to look the man in the eye.

“Mr. Evan”, he starts, and the man frowns, as if something isn’t quite right about that greeting.

“No mister. You can call me...” He trails off, as if he’s looking for the right word, and then he smiles at Tommy as if he’s had the brightest idea ever. “Evan! Yeah! You can totally call me Evan.”

“Evan, then. I’m Tommy. Tommy Kinard.” He says, offering a hand, and Evan shakes it.

His hand is warm against Tommy’s, even if his handshake is a little wobbly. The moment they touch, Tommy feels as if a spark of electricity rushes through him, as cliché as that sounds. Evan must feel it too, because he looks up at Tommy with raised eyebrows.

“I know, Bobby said. I’m your re… re… Ah, it’s a big word, but I entered the 118 when you left. Small world, huh?” He says, with a tiny frown between his eyebrows as if he’s trying to make sense of it, and Tommy has an irrational urge to kiss it away. He doesn’t, but it’s a near thing.

“Very.” Tommy agrees, and then he sits down by Evan’s side. Even if he’s not entirely aware of what’s going on, Tommy needs to thank him. “Evan, I will never be able to thank you enough for what you did. Vivie is my life, and you saved her. There are no words to express how grateful I am.”

Evan seems to take a while to process his words, but then he shrugs modestly. He looks down at Vivie and tries for a wink, but it comes off as more of a sleepy blink. Tommy’s daughter giggles anyway, holding Marsh close to her chest.

“Ah, you don’t have to thank me, you know?” He slurs. “I did what everyone would do.”

“No, you didn’t.You did way more. You kept her safe, and you protected her, and you brought her to find her uncle.” Tommy tells him firmly, taking his hand in his and squeezing it. He tries to ignore the goosebumps it brings to his arms. “I owe you a debt that can never be repaid. But if there is anything I can do for you, ever, you just have to say the word.”

Evan nods, but stays silent. His hand is still wrapped around Tommy’s, and he looks down at them for a moment. Then he looks back at Tommy, his blue eyes determined.

“I mean, you could ask me out!” He exclaims, and everyone turns at him, eyes widened, including Tommy. He’s so surprised he doesn’t remember to separate their hands.

“I… I could… W-what?” Tommy asks, sputtering and feeling a blush covering his cheeks and all the way down to his neck (nice going, you idiot). It doesn’t help that half his former team is watching it with smirks on their faces.

“You could ask me out!” Evan repeats it, his brows furrowing as if he can’t quite understand what’s giving Tommy pause. “You’re ridiculously gorgeous, you know that? I’d say yes if you asked me out.”

Tommy is left completely speechless and wishing that the floor would swallow him whole. Captain Nash is looking at Evan with that same fatherly exasperation of before, and Eddie and Howie are shaking with silent laughter. Not even Vivie helps; the minute Evan says he’s gorgeous, her daughter starts giggling uncontrollably, looking between them with way too much amusement. Hen is the only one who seems to take pity on the two of them, because she puts a hand on Buck’s shoulder.

“Alright, Buckaroo, that’s enough out of you! Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

“Can’t sleep, Hen, I’m going out with the hot pilot. Weren’t you paying attention?” He grumbles, but as Hen helps him lay back, he closes his eyes, resting back against the pillow with a soft sigh.

Tommy is flustered, and shocked, and impossibly endeared. He wants to ask Evan out, he wants to do it now, but he won’t hold a man accountable for things he said under heavy painkillers.

“Daddy, are you going out with mr. Evan?” Vivie asks, and Tommy, if possible, blushes even more. He takes one more look at Evan’s face, eyes closed and a small smile still playing on his lips, and he desperately wishes to tell her that yes, he will.

“I… No, baby. Mr. Evan didn’t really mean it, he’s just sleepy. It’s like when you say silly things in your sleep, remember?” He tells her, and she nods, but looks absolutely disappointed. “Besides, we have to pick up uncle Sal and go home, don’t we? It’s way past your bedtime. Say goodbye to everyone and let’s go.”

She does as she’s told, sparing a hug for everyone and making Eddie promise she and Chris will have a playdate soon (Tommy actually likes the idea; Vivie has plenty of friends, but she could always do with more). He agrees to set it up and says his own goodbyes, shaking everyone’s hands. When it comes to Chimney’s turn, though, he smirks at Tommy and slips a paper into his pocket.

“Here’s Buck’s number and address. You know, just in case you wanna check if he meant it or was just being silly.” He says with a knowing smirk, and Tommy looks at him in surprise. Howie shrugs, and then goes back to talking to Hen.

And Tommy should throw the paper away, he really should. Evan is probably straight; Tommy has a daughter and hasn’t really dated in years. Everything tells him this is not a good idea.

He folds it carefully in his pocket anyway.

Tag list:

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter

@typicalopposite @littlepaws9 @aplaceinme @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21

@dearqueend @laundryandtaxesworld @buckleyskinards @actuallyitsellie

@agentpeggycartering @chaoticdisasterbi

@deelovesbooks @teabroomsandbooks

[k1mbe3rly]

HAII BB !! REQUEST FOR AOUAD AGAIN HEHEHEHEHHE

Can you do a Sub!cheongsanxDom!fem!hambie!reader where the reader is jealous of onjo because of how close cheongsan and onjo are?

Punishing him with rough sex to the point he cant walk and not letting him cum? (He probably would like it tbh)

(PLEASE SNEAK IN A STRAP)

Tiny bit obsessed with you

warnings; smut, pegging, dom!fem!reader, mommy kink, overstimulation

You wouldn’t say you had a crush on Cheong san..you found him cute, maybe peg-able? you weren’t sure but all you knew was that you wanted to do something with him

The moment the apocalypse happened you were so done for, you couldn’t find Cheong san at ALL, and all thanks to Gwi-nam, you turned into a hambie.

You groaned out as you kept searching for cheong san, not in a murderous way, you just wanted to see him

It took you awhile to find him but the moment you found him you saw On-jo hugging up on him, god damnit..were they dating? you always figured On jo like Su hyeok, guess not

You watched them for a moment until cheong san noticed you, “Y/n!” he yelled out a bit as he shoved on jo out of the way softly and ran to you

“Oh my god..your still alive?!” he said not even noticing you were a hambie

You nodded “What? you thought i wasn’t?” you said back “..I mean i didn’t really think about it, but i’m glad you are” he said back, you rolled your eyes “Wonder why you didn’t think about it..” you said sarcastically

He stared at you in confusion “What do you mean?” he said, but before you can speak On jo slightly grabbing his arm

“Cheong san..we’re gonna go to broadcasting room, come on” she said tugging on him, “Wait- ima stay with Y/n for a bit okay? i’ll meet yall down there” Cheong san said to her

On jo looked a bit shocked but brushed it off and just nodded, she had left yall alone

“Are you dating On jo?” was the first question you asked Cheong san, he blinked momentarily

“What? no? w-why do you ask?” he spoke

“It just seems like yall are really close, i saw yall hugging and besides that yall are really glued together even before this happened” you spoke with a small tense of jealousy

He noticed it a bit but brushed it off “No..we’re not uh dating, we’re just friends, i promise, she likes Su hyeok anyways” he said rubbing the back of his neck a bit

“Well do you like her?” you said with hesitation “What..? no! well..why does it matter if i do?” he questioned

“..well i don’t really care it’s just a question.” you said hesitantly “i should..get going.” you said you turned away

You begin walking until you get a hand wrap around your wrist “Wait..” he said softly as you turned around to him

He stared at you and you stared back at him simply making intense eye contact, you were about to speak until his lips crashed into yours

Your widen your eyes for a bit but quickly metled into the kiss, your hands wrapping behind his neck as he wrapped his own hands around your waist

Soft lip smacking filled the empty classroom as yall passionately made out, he slowly moved his hand under your uniform feeling your tummy , he lifted his hands up to your breast and softly felt the fabric of your bra

He pulled back for some air as he panted softly, you opened your eyes at him, you were still mad about him and on-jo as you pushed him slightly, “W-what are you doing-?” he spoke a bit

“Shh…shut up.” you said as you kneeled down you rubbed onto his crotch a bit, he gasped out, you felt his boner a but as you smirked up at him

“Ah..so hard already, is it..because of me or On jo huh?” you said slightly pulling on his pants and boxers, he let out a soft whine at your question but didn’t answer

As you continue pulling down his pants and boxers his semi hard cock sprung out, you softly stroked him a bit “Answer me” you said

He looked down at you his breath uneven “Y-you..you got me hard okay?” he said his chest rising up and down

You smirked and begin stroking faster, you watched as he whined out and soft pre cum already leaking out

“Your gonna cum already? that’s..kinda pathetic cheong san” you said to him as he whimpered out

“Sorry- sorry! ah fuck!” he said out as his cum fell all over your fist, you let his cum leak all over you as you smirked

“How do you feel about being pegged?” you asked innocently, he eyes widen a bit “What?” he quickly said

You looked at him again, you had a strap on in your backpack for your friend since she told you she wanted to test it out on her boyfriend..

“Being pegged?” he asked as you nodded

“U-um i don’t know..?”

Not that long later he was literally bent over a desk as you spread his cum all over his hole, using it for lube, you already had the strap on as he looked over his shoulder

“D-do you know what you’re doing?” he spoke as you nodded “Of course i do” you responded

You slowly lined up the tip of the strap against him as he gasped out

“Are you uh… ready?” you asked him as he nodded, even tho you were basically doing this to ‘punish him’ you didn’t wanna hurt him

You slowly pushed in as he let out a whine, you smirked a bit as you than pushed it all the way in, he let out a loud whimper from it

“Does it hurt?” you asked, “N-no i think i’m good” he said shyly

You nodded as you slowly pulled back and thrusted back in, another whimper came out of him

You kept the gentle pace for about a minute or two, you than begin picking up the pace as you watched the strap go in and out of his hole, he moaned out quickly as he covered his mouth, you reached over grabbing both of his arm and pulling them back a bit, his moans were a bit loud more clear for you to hear

You kept thrusting roughly as the desk begin creaking a bit, you weren’t focused on anything else but him, all you could hear was his moans

“Ah~! fuck!” he whined out, he was surprised on how good it felt as he felt an orgasm approach

“Mm~! i’m cumming~!” he moaned out as you thrusted even faster, his eyes widen a bit at the sudden faster pace and was quick to cum

He let out a loud long moan as you slowed your thrust watching him twitch a bit, he panted but those pants quickly turned into moans as he felt you pound into him again

He moaned out as he felt your thighs crash into his the sound of soft skin slapping filling up the room, along with sweat running down both of yalls bodies, his moans we’re loud and choked out as he felt his own legs shake a bit

You reached over grabbing into his hair and slightly pulling it back, he let out a whine as your lips assaulted his neck, your tongue dragging over his neck and biting into it, you gave him a few hickeys as he gripped onto the desk

“Ah~!! pl..please~! it’s too much! I Already c-cummed twice!” he moaned out begging for mercy as he felt overstimulated, “No it’s okay..come on be a good boy and take it” you said back to him with heavy breathing

You continued pounding into his ass, your hand slowly traveled to his butt and gave it a soft grip and slap, “Are you gonna be a good boy?” you spoke to him

He quickly nodded

“Use your words.” you demanded

“I-i’ll be a good boy! i wanna be a good boy for mommy~!!” he moaned out, his eyes slightly rolled back

“Yea…such a good boy baby. Those pretty sounds you make, making those sounds for me? only me huh?” you told him

“Yes! yes!! only you mommy! i’m yours mommy! fuck i’m gonna cum!!!” he moaned out loudly as you fucked him even faster

He let out a soft sob as his cum quickly fell out on to the table, you kept thrusting into him

“Mommy..please…no more~ please mommy!!” he whined out

You smirked a bit, “No more? you can’t take no more baby?” you asked slowing down your thrust, he nodded “I can’t take it..please..i’ll- i’ll make it up to you” he said softly as you slowly pulled out giving out soft low moans

He panted as he collapsed his head into the table, you stayed there for a moment before moving, looking around for a towel which you found, you helped him clean himself off as he got dressed

“So..does that mean..wait- do you um..like me?” he asked nervously, you stared at him as if he was dumb are something “Yea i like you” you simply told him

“Is that why you got mad? because of on jo?” you asked again, you nodded

“Oh..well i like you too and i wanna date!” he said as you smiled and laughed a bit

Everything was great, your crush liking you back but..what are you gonna do if your a hambie.

[lu-is-not-ok]

hi there! i’ve been motivated by previous asks, so i would really like to hear your thoughts on hong lu’s relationship with yi sang, as it is currently and how it may progress with the story… they have very interesting parallels to me and i wish i could see their relationship explored somewhere other than my own head lol

also, (if you would allow me two questions) do you have any particular thoughts about hong lu’s particulars (bachelor and sheltered)? i find the sinners’ particulars to be really interesting too but i never see them discussed anymore. thanks for your time & have a good day <3

When it comes to Hong Lu and Yi Sang, their relationship is much more straightforward but also much more genuinely positive.

The two don't really interact with each other in any notable manner until Canto 4, which is also where their dynamic Truly gets established. Canto 4's Dungeon is where they both end up connecting, as Yi Sang recognises Hong Lu as someone who heavily resembles Young Ji from the League of Nine, while Hong Lu himself appears to relate to and understand some of Yi Sang's struggles.

This all comes to a head when Hong Lu is the one to recognise the emotional core of what was happening and gives Dante the advice they need to actually reach out to Yi Sang at his lowest.

From this Canto onward, Hong Lu appears to consistently check up on Yi Sang during moments that remind the latter of his past with the League. Hong Lu shows that he not only holds concern for Yi Sang's emotional well-being, but also wants to make sure he doesn't bottle up his thoughts the way he learned he did in his past.

Likewise in Canto 7 Yi Sang is shown to be returning the favor to Hong Lu so to speak, though he's shown to struggle a bit more with processing how Hong Lu responds in comparison.

Outside of these moments, Hong Lu and Yi Sang are shown to generally have a cordial and amicable rapport, both showing curiosity towards each other when they share their respective knowledge and likewise jumping off of each other's observations to add their own. While Hong Lu does tease Yi Sang once or twice, it doesn't read nearly as mean-spirited as some of the shit he pulled with people like Heathcliff and Rodya.

Their relationship is perhaps one of the few on the bus that I can genuinely say is an entirely positive one for both of them. They both clearly care for each other and enjoy speaking with one another, even if they might struggle to understand one another at points. No ifs or buts, they're just straight up honestly decent friends.

It really makes me wonder how Yi Sang is going to take it once Hong Lu's lies are revealed... Compared to a lot of the relationships Hong Lu has with the other Sinners, his bond with Yi Sang seems the most genuine. Will Yi Sang be able to recognise that and will he decide to still stand by Hong Lu side?

Now. As for your second question.

I don't have much to say on Hong Lu's particulars beyond mentioning that their translation is. Interesting to say the least.

According to someone who speaks Korean, the term that got translated to "Bachelor" would more accurately be translated to "Young Master", aka it doesn't really have anything to do with marital status in its original language.

Similarly, the original wording for the "Sheltered" particular is more so an allusion to Hong Lu having a different sense of reality to what is considered normal. It's an interesting specificity that the English translation added that from my understanding wasn't there in the original text.

I don't have much else to add beyond the fact that people are too quick to trust the Manager Instructions as being the ultimate truth on what the Sinners are like. Their description of Ishmael as someone whose "patience runs deep" is proven incorrect in the fucking Prologue where her impatience is directly called out. This shit isn't a trustworthy source of info.

[vicky-0933]

Here is the story, just finished during class. Let me know what you think.

————————————————————————

My Flower Girl

“Here are Lilies” you say while pointing to them, the couple goes to them and looks, you smile, watching them talking about the flowers and, looking outside seeing how there is dirt everywhere, grabbing your cleaning supplies, you head outside, sweeping away the dirt and to take care of the flowers, putting the flowers in there places. As you were outside, you started to take in the view of the sky seeing the different colors, “Hello there sweetheart” a voice says to you, which surprised you.

Stopping what you are doing, you turn to see an older looking women with a pink dress that hugs her curves, “Oh hello, how can I help you” you ask, then soon you hear a ringing in your ears and she does too, she looks at you with a confused but stern look. You both don’t say anything, you don’t understand why that happened, she just looks at you. “Oh I just wanted to come see my new neighbor” she says chuckling, and you snickered, “Well I am glad you came to see me” you say.

You both start talking for a bit, she starts to talking about something until “Excuse me mam” someone says behind you, it’s one of your customers, “Oh yes how can I help you” you ask, they tell you which flowers they want to buy, “Oh yes, I will be right there” you say to them, they walk inside talking about other plants, you turn to the older women, “Would you like come with me” you ask and she nods.

Both of you walk inside, and you bring her over to the back of register, you help the couple buy their flowers, “Thank you, I hope you enjoy them” you say, they says thank you back and walk out of the store. “So, what got you into this business” the older women asks you, turning you say in a teasing manner, “Wow, I would like to have your name first before we know each other” you say.

She blushes, “Oh right well, I am Lilia Calderu” she introduces herself, you smile, “well nice to meet you, I am Yn Ln” you say putting out your hand, she takes it then gasp, you panic, pulling away and taking a step back, trying to figure what’s going on, then she stopped and just looks at you, “your a green witch” she say and you start to stutter, “I am- I umm I am” you nervously say, putting you hands on your head, “oh really, your young one are ya, well I am a divination witch” she says with a smirk and her hazel eyes go a bit dark.

You start to blush, “we-well I umm hello I guess” you say stuttering again, little flowers spring out of your head, she looks at you with a questionable look. “Umm hi” she chuckles, “how did you find out that you where a green witch” she asks but you don’t answer her, you close your eyes praying for it to stop, you both just stand there in, “you didn’t answer my question” Lilia say, you open your eyes looking at her with apologetic eyes.

“Oh right, well I started growing them out of hands and hair, which is weird, but non the less, that’s when I started noticing people come to ask me for flowers and then I started paying attention more” you say, putting you hands down, the little flowers showing and Lilia hums, “at some point, I started to get over welled with this power of mine, so I stopped for a bit, but then got back into it a few months ago. It’s been scary, I’m still learning about it” you finishing saying, and she just looks at you with pity.

She smiles, “well at what age did you decide to do this” she asks you, you smile “when I was 16, once I started to work on magic, and with flowers was the best way to help with my magic by growing them and what not, then I started growing a lot of flowers of different kinds and selling them to a few witches here and there, soon I knew I wanted to do a flower shop” you say looking around your shop. You make a fist with your hand and opening it to show a blooming flower coming out, and she gasps, you motion to her to take the flower and she does.

“How old are you” Lilia asks, while covering her face with the flower, you chuckle,”I am 300 years old” you say, “and you, how old are you” you ask, she sighs “450 years old” says. “You look good for a 450 year old witch” you and she blush, she takes a note and looks around from she is, taking in the view from the flowers, making the entrance look beautiful, she nods and smiles. Lilia feels safe, as if she was meant to be there, surrounded by the colors and smells, calming down.

“What are the best types of flowers for my type of witchcraft” Lilia says taking a step towards you, grabbing the desk behind you, you take a deep breath, “I umm I” you stutter, she takes another step towards you. You getting nervous, and looking around to see what you can tell her, so you thinking about something that might help you with the situation.

“Umm HERE, ummm I hear, over here” you stutter walking towards the foxglove, trying to get the flower to go away from your head but they won’t go away, she just look at you with a smug expression and laughs to herself and follows you, “Here are the foxglove, they are one of Europe’s prettiest wildflowers. Doctors in the 1780s, used this flower to make medicine, for it to treat heart failure. But they are extremely toxic, so I would handle them with extreme care.” You say, trying to calm yourself down from the experience before.

“Oh wow, that’s cool.” She says in aww, “Would you want this flower, or a non toxic one?” You ask nervously, and she chuckles, “I would want a flower that wouldn’t kill me” she says and you gasp, “right, right ummm over here” you tell, she follows you to the carnations, “Here yea go” you say while grabbing a bouquet of carnations and letting her grab one, “You know that these are native to Sicily, so I feel like these are good for you.” You say blushing a bit.

“Well, want to know something” she asks and you look at her, a little confused, “I am from Sicily, but I guess it has been so long since I saw how the flowers looked and now that you are here with the flowers, I can look at them again” she says in a low tone and you look at her a little surprised. You then look at her with awe, seeing her take in the flowers, starting to take in her features. The way that her hair makes her face look sharper, as you look at her you didn’t notice that she was looking at you.

She walks up to you, and puts her hand your cheek making you jump a bit. “You ok there sweetheart” she asks you and you blush and nod but you don’t do anything you both just stand there, looking into each others eyes, you see the way her eye colors change, “umm yes i am, miss i am just a but nervous” you say looking away, she doesn’t says anything but grabs your hand examining it, you don’t move as your blushes mess. Lilia lets go of your hand, and starts to walk around, you can feel flowers growing around your head making a crown.

Something that always happens when your nervous, stressed, or fluster, in this case it happens to be both. Lilia finally turns around and sees your crown, “Oh honey, that look beautiful on you” she says walking to you with a smile on her face, “oh umm thank you” you say looking away, she cups you face making you look at her. And something that has never been done before, you crown seem to be going to her, wrapping around her head and making a crown around her head.

“Oh wow that has never happened before” you say while she gasp, and suddenly you both feel a pull at your heart, Lilia smiles, pulling you in for a kiss, which surprises you, the kiss feels gentle and soft. You slowly melt into it, feeling your body get pulled into hers, how your body matched each others. Feeling her hands go down to your lower back, you wrap your her neck, bring her as close as possible, you both pull away from each other, you see the flowers wrapping around both your hands making them stay together.

“This has never happened before, I have no idea why this is happening” you say a bit nervously, studying your hands, Lilia doesn’t say anything but just stares at you, “do you believe in soulmates” Lilia asks. You turn to look at her, “Well kinda, I believe that it doesn’t exist but I never really thought of looking for them” you say feeling guilty. “Well when I looked at your palm, I saw you’ve meet your soulmate, and I think this is a confirmation. I think we found each other” Lilia says softly, you smile.

And without thinking you hug her which makes her gasp, “I never thought I would find you, now that I have, I will never let you go” you whisper in her ear, Lilia chuckles softly, hugging you back. She cups your face again and pulls you into a kiss again, this time it’s more dominant and hard. You let her take control over this, her tongue exploring your mouth, she pushes you against the well, “Umm Excuse me mam” you hear a voice say and turn and see someone standing there.

“I got my professor pregnant and I need to get flowers to say I’m sorry, and what not. So can you help me or can I come in an other time” The person says, and you sigh, “Yea sir I will help you, just pick out what you want and I’ll be there” you say and he goes. “I am so sorry, but let me help him and then I’ll close up and we can do whatever you want” you say and Lilia nods, you go and help the guy, “Alrighty sir your total is $12.99, and I hope you have a great day” you say, and he leaves. You sigh putting your head down, you feel hands on your waist, and a body come behind you, “Where were we, hmm sweetheart” you hear Lilia say.

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Hi y’all I will post a poll later to see what story will be posted next. See ya!!

[littlemissshifter]

Hi dear! I have a question that is out of pure curiosity

I've seen a couple of posts about permanent shifting, and it sort of spooked me and intrigued me at the same time...? Like. The implications of permanent shifting are such a complex concept for my brain to grasp, and forgive me for the rambling but-

Let's say a person does shift permanently. What would happen to their physical body in this reality? Because I know there's a lot of things at stake, like family, friends maybe a job or something?

Is permashifting safe? It's been plaguing my brain even though I have no intention at all of doing so, but it got me wondering! Because if it was me, I'd be very worried about the things I have going on in this reality, y'know? What if I permashift and it goes right, but then what? Does my body get old in this reality as I'm living my life in another? and maybe even what if someone comes looking for me and I simply don't wake up because my consciousness is in another reality?

Again, sorry for rambling, I just really wanted to talk about it with someone :) and I mean no harm to people who consider permashifting too, this is 100% out of curiosity

Thank you in advance! I love your blog. xoxo

hii!! thank you!!

Shifting is changing your awareness only. Your physical body has nothing to do with it. When you permashift, you will be living in the awareness of the reality you shifted to. Your cr is also a reality with it's own rules that you made up. That self here will keep on living here just like any other reality. Nothing will change for them.

You're already living infinite lives. You just shifted your awareness to one of them. And yes it is safe. You need to see my masterlist and read all my shifting posts. You shift every moment. Even sleeping. It is not something you do when you lay on the bed with an intention to shift. It is continuous.

Consciousness is awareness. Awareness is infinite. You will wake up in this reality because like I said only your awareness shifts. Every you in every reality has this awareness. It's like playing a game with yourself when every character is you. You can choose a different character every time.