#I have four fallout ocs

[mae-peachie]

do any fallout artists want to do an oc art trade?? 🧎‍♂️💥

[jokest3r]

First ever fallout oc posting in a while but here is my fallout oc Claire Bomb-Bomb or Ms. Bomb-Bomb ! The character I play in my independence playthroughs who is in fact not written to be the courier. But they do exist side by side I'm just too lazy to write that 1million word fic. Her story takes place at the start of Honest Hearts seeking revenge against Joshua Graham for his hand in her parent's deaths.

[subjectsix]

the problem about wanting to yap about my fallout OCs is i feel like there's too much lore involved to just yap

I guess that's true of any OC frankly

when I get myself to draw more its gonna be OC central around here

[swordbisexual]

Well, since I’m starting to think my mess is getting conflated with the RT fandom mess (by the person who started the RT mess and who is now attempting to deflect, I’m sure), here’s an abbreviated version! Because god knows I’m sure this person already has all their mutuals on high alert and is primed and ready to keep poking at me until I kick up a fuss.

For four years, I’ve had someone from the Arcana fandom keeping track of my every move and hoarding my fics (even some that are no longer on tumblr, but I always keep drafts in my hard drive) in order to, I dunno, gain clout with their fandoms and get attention and praise, all while repeatedly faking several details of their personal life, including (but not limited to) race (claimed to be Pamunkey, now claims to be Romani, is whiter than wonderbread), disability, disease (used to be Tangier disease, is now an assortment of stage four cancers that should have them on life support), and family members. And that’s not even half of it.

This person, who now uses the handle @bleumanouche (and Fallout blogs at @romaniwasteland), well and truly has more time on their hands than I ever could. I would feel pity if I wasn’t the one being followed around and stolen from. (I can’t directly tag because, while I preemptively blocked as soon as I made this account, they have blocked me right back, which means using a burner to go snooping through my friends’ notes! Class act.)

I’d been content to just try and forget about them, but shitty anons always get my back up, so of course I went to pick at the scab and saw that yes, it’s still infected.

This has happened many times before, but the latest incident that sent me into a full-on depression spiral was from a couple weeks back. Bleu posted an OC ship fic that is almost entirely copied (and mangled) from two of my Arcana fics.

(Screenshots from the most blatant ripoff after the cut for when they inevitably delete it.)

What a lovely story, you might think. I think so too! Because it’s almost word for word from a wedding fic I wrote two years ago.

(Screenshots if you don’t want to click through but do want to see how shameless this shit is.)

So yeah. I don’t care if it was for a handful of notes, Bleu. If I was your shipping partner I’d quite frankly be embarrassed and hurt that you tried to pass this off as your own hard work.

That’s the short version! I have a much longer story, but I’m trying to let it go. And I’d be able to if I didn’t keep having to look over my shoulder for this shit.

[jetii]

The New Deal

Part Two

Contribution to @clonexocweek | Theme: Intimacy

Pairing: Thorn x Senator Vale Ishani (OC)

Words: 14,400/27,656

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends with benefits to lovers, secret relationship, bodyguard!Thorn, protective!Thorn, accidental love confessions, so much flirting and innuendo, dirty talk, smut, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), it is the expected level of freak for these two, part 2 even more so

Summary: It's been a month since Thorn and Vale have returned to Coruscant from her home planet of Atrisia, and so far they've managed to keep their budding relationship under wraps. But Thorn can't help but want more than a few stolen moments in the dark, and he's ready to prove to Vale that it's worth it.

A/N: I don't know what it is about writing these two that turns me into a monster, but I felt like a woman possessed. There was supposed to be plot here...somewhere...

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist | Thorn and Vale Masterlist

Thorn isn't sure how much longer he can keep getting away with this.

The truth is, he knows that he's in way over his head. That this isn't a good idea. That this can only end in heartbreak, and pain, and a whole host of other problems that he really doesn't want to deal with. And yet, the temptation is too great, and he can't bring himself to walk away.

So instead, he spends his days hiding his relationship, his nights sneaking out of the barracks to spend time with Vale, and his free time trying to figure out what the hell he's supposed to do.

It's not the most productive use of his time, and Thorn knows that his brothers are starting to notice. They've asked him more than once why he's been spending so much time away from the barracks, and he's given them the same answer: extra training. He can't help but feel guilty, especially when he knows that they're not buying it, but he's not sure how else to explain what he's doing.

The truth is, Thorn's not sure he understands what he's doing.

It's been a month since the two of them returned from Atrisia, and things have only gotten more complicated. They'd managed to keep things quiet on the cruiser, but once they were back on Coruscant, the rules had changed.

Vale has been busy, dealing with the fallout of the assassination attempt and the upcoming election season, and Thorn has been splitting his time between his regular duties and acting as Vale's personal guard. The latter isn't something he would normally do, but the Chancellor has insisted, and Vale hasn't protested.

The fact that he's now in the position to protect her is a huge weight off his shoulders. Thorn had spent most of his time on the cruiser worrying about her safety and wondering if the attempt on her life would be repeated. Knowing that she has him there, watching her back, has done a lot to ease his mind.

But even with the extra time together, things have still been complicated, and they've only managed to steal a handful of moments alone together.

Today is no different.

Vale has had no less than four meetings with the Chancellor this past week, and her schedule has been filled with a seemingly endless list of events and appearances. Thorn's days have been just as busy. With the Senate in session, he's been tasked with assisting with the security detail for several events and conferences, and his nights have been filled with patrols and security checks.

Today, he's been assigned a shift in the Senate Rotunda, and while his job is mostly standing around making sure no one was plotting a surprise assassination attempt, he doesn't mind. It's an easy assignment, and he likes the view.

Vale's platform is right in his line of sight, and it's the perfect vantage point for watching her. She looks regal standing there, her hands braced on the edge of the platform, her voice echoing through the chamber. Her robes are a dark, rich blue, and her hair is twisted up into an intricate bun, the light catching the golden threads woven throughout it.

Not that he's paying attention to any of that, of course. He's not supposed to be noticing those things.

No, Thorn is supposed to be watching the room. Which is exactly what he's doing. And if his gaze wanders back to Vale every few minutes, it's not for any reason other than keeping her safe. That's his job, and he's taking it seriously.

That's what he keeps telling himself, anyway.

Thorn can't help but feel like he's been on a rollercoaster over the past few weeks. First, the tension, and the longing, and the frustration, and now, this. This strange, uncertain, and undefined thing that's developed between the two of them. He doesn't have a name for it, and he's not sure if he's ready to call it what he wants it to be.

He doesn't even know what he wants. Or at least, he doesn't know how to get it.

Because he knows what he wants. It's the same thing he's wanted since the day he first met her. He wants her. All of her. Not just her body, or her attention, or her time.

He wants all of her. Every last part of her.

And he's never wanted anything more.

The thing is, Thorn's never had trouble going after what he wants. If he wants something, he usually just goes for it. But with Vale, things are different. She's a senator, and the daughter of a wealthy, influential family, and she's been raised with all the privileges and opportunities that come with her birthright. She's got a whole galaxy of suitors to choose from, and Thorn's well aware that he doesn't exactly have a lot to offer.

He's a clone. An expendable soldier who was created for the sole purpose of dying for the Republic. He doesn't have any rights, or any possessions, and the only thing he has to his name is his service record. He's not a bad looking man, and his brothers have always told him he has a decent sense of humor, but when compared to the galaxy full of senators and nobles and celebrities who are throwing themselves at her, he's not exactly a prize.

And yet, here she is, standing right in front of him, her eyes locked with his, a soft smile on her lips.

It doesn't make sense. None of it makes sense.

Vale tilts her head, a silent question on her face, and Thorn inclines his head slightly, a subtle nod. She nods back, and then her gaze moves back to the Chancellor, and Thorn lets out a soft sigh.

It's going to be a long day.

The sound of the bell echoes through the chamber, signaling the end of the session, and Thorn straightens up, his hands falling to his belt. The senators and their aides file out, but Vale remains seated, her attention on the datapad in her hand.

Thorn glances around the chamber before he slowly makes his way toward her, his boots clicking against the polished floor. When he reaches her, he stops, waiting patiently. She doesn't look up, but Thorn knows she's aware of him. He can tell by the way her lips twitch and the way her breathing changes, just slightly.

He waits, letting the tension build, before he speaks.

"Senator."

"Commander," she replies. She taps a few more times on her datapad and finally glances over her shoulder at him, a smile playing on her lips. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Thorn looks around the chamber again, tracking the movement of the other senators. Most have already left, but a few are lingering, talking in small groups or packing up their things. 

It's not unusual for him to be near Vale during a meeting. In fact, it's his job. But the idea of being seen in such close proximity, especially when there's no danger present, makes his skin prickle.

He lowers his voice, leaning in to speak in her ear. "No reason. Just wanted to check in on you. See how you're doing."

Her smile widens, and Thorn's stomach flips.

"You're sweet," she whispers. Her gaze darts from person to person, and Thorn follows her lead, his eyes scanning the room, cataloging everyone's positions. They're relatively isolated, and while he knows the cameras are watching, there's no way anyone could overhear their conversation.

"I'm trying," he murmurs, and she lets out a soft laugh.

"You didn't have to come over here just to check up on me."

"Yes I did," he tells her. "I wanted to."

"Did you now?"

"Yes."

Vale hums, turning her head to look at him, her gaze drifting over his body. His skin warms, and his heart races. He loves it when she looks at him like that. Loves it when she lets him know what she's thinking, what she's feeling. It's the closest thing to an admission he'll get from her, and it's enough. For now.

She leans back in her chair, and he swallows, his gaze dropping to her lips. She's wearing red lipstick, a shade that's a near exact match for the red of his armor. He's not sure if she chose it on purpose or if it's a coincidence, but either way, it makes him feel possessive. Like she's wearing a part of hi, claiming him in a way.

"Commander," she says, her voice a soft purr. "Do you have something to say to me?"

"I do, Senator," he breathes. He takes a step forward, rounding her chair until he's standing before her, and he clenches his hands into fists behind his back. "I have a lot of things to say."

"Oh? Like what?"

He bends at the waist, a slight bow, and she raises a brow. "Things I shouldn't."

"Well, go on. I'm waiting," she urges, and he has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. She's always like this, and he's never sure if he's more annoyed or turned on by it. Probably both.

He looks over his shoulder. The room is empty, save for a handful of aides and a couple of the maintenance staff. There's no one nearby, and the chance of anyone hearing them is minimal. Still, he keeps his voice low, just in case.

"I miss you," he says. The words are out of his mouth before he can think better of them, and the coy smile on her face momentarily falters. "And I can't stand being apart from you for another minute."

She blinks, and Thorn bites the inside of his cheek. They've had this conversation before, and each time, it's ended with one or both of them frustrated and angry and wanting more than they can have. Neither of them has brought up the future. Neither of them has said the word 'relationship'. And neither of them has dared to talk about what they are. What they could be.

It's a mess, and it's only getting messier.

"I miss you too, Commander," she whispers, and he watches as the mask slides back into place, the playful, teasing facade she wears around everyone else coming back full force. Her hand slides up his thigh, her palm pressing against the inside of his leg, and Thorn sucks in a breath, his hands flexing behind his back.

"But there's nothing we can do about it. Not right now, at least," she tells him, her nails scraping lightly against his armor.

He lets out a frustrated huff, his jaw clenching. "I'm serious, Vale.” 

Her eyes widen, and her hand freezes. Thorn's not sure why he used her name, or where the sudden surge of bravery came from. But he knows that it's important, and he knows that he means it.

They've been using each other's titles since returning to Coruscant, a necessary precaution. But now, it feels wrong, almost like an insult. It's not who they are, and it's not who they are to each other. He's Thorn, and she's Vale, and the distance between them has gone too far, and for too long.

"I hate not being able to see you. I hate not being able to talk to you. It's driving me crazy. You're driving me crazy," he growls. He's not sure if he's more frustrated with her or himself, and the words pour out of him, fueled by a desperation he can't contain.

Her face softens, the teasing, coy expression replaced with a tender, understanding look. Her hand falls away, folding in her lap, and Thorn immediately misses the contact.

"I know. I'm sorry, Thorn," she murmurs. She looks around, her eyes sweeping over the chamber, and then her gaze meets his once more. Her shoulders slump, and Thorn realizes that she's just as conflicted and unsure as he is. "I'm not trying to push you away."

He shakes his head. He doesn't want an apology. He just wants to be with her. He knows it's a terrible idea, and he knows that they should end things, but he can't bring himself to do it. He doesn't want to walk away. And deep down, he knows that she doesn't want to, either.

"I know," he says. "But it doesn't change the fact that I miss you."

She gives him a rueful smile, and his heart twists in his chest.

"I miss you, too," she says softly. "And I wish we could see each other more. I hate having to sneak around. It's ridiculous."

He can't help but chuckle. It's not funny, not really, but it's true. It is ridiculous. And it's getting worse. Every time he sees her, it's harder and harder to walk away. And every time he has to leave, the pain of being separated is worse than the last.

"It is," he agrees. "It's the worst."

She lets out a short, bitter laugh. "The absolute worst."

Thorn sighs, the sound heavy. He looks down at his boots, trying to gather his thoughts.

"We'll figure something out," he says. "We have to."

"I hope so," she murmurs. "Because I'm not sure how much longer I can go without seeing you."

"Me, either," he admits with a sigh. "I'm going crazy, not being able to touch you."

He feels her gaze on him, and he risks a glance. He immediately regrets it when he sees the smirk on her face.

"Touch me, huh?" she asks, a teasing note in her voice. "Is that all you want to do?"

Thorn rolls his eyes. She's always like this, and he should be used to it by now. But every time she flirts with him, every time she teases him, it's like the first time. And he's helpless to resist.

"You're the worst," he mutters. "And no, it's not. I want to do a lot more than just touch you."

"Oh, really? Like what?"

He can't help but groan. He's tempted to tell her. To whisper all the dirty, filthy things he's been imagining, all the things he wants to do to her. But the thought of saying them out loud, of risking being overheard, is too much for him.

"Like nothing, because I'm on duty, and you're about to leave," he grumbles.

"Aw, that's no fun."

"That's what you get," he replies. He straightens and adjusts his stance, his gaze sweeping the chamber again. He doesn't have much time, and he's wasting it. He should be focusing on his job, not flirting with the senator. "I should get going. I have a briefing in an hour, and I need to get ready."

Vale nods, her teeth running over her lower lip. Thorn's eyes are immediately drawn to the motion, and he forces himself to look away, a soft groan escaping him.

"You're not making this any easier, Vale," he mumbles as he turns and starts to walk away, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He doesn't make it more than two steps before her voice stops him in his tracks.

"What are you doing tonight?” she asks, her voice so quiet he almost misses it. His head whips back to her, and he sees her watching him, a small, hopeful smile on her lips.

He's confused. Normally, she doesn't ask him things like this. Normally, she tells him what time she wants him to show up, and where she wants him to meet her. And normally, he doesn't protest, because he knows he'll show up, anyway.

"I...Nothing," he says, trying to sound nonchalant, even though his pulse is pounding.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing that I can't reschedule," he clarifies quickly. He knows he's not fooling anyone. Especially not her.

"Well,” she starts, a slow, playful smile spreading across her face. "In that case, I’ll be hosting a small dinner party for some members of the Finance Committee tonight, and I could use the company for the night. And after. Interested?"

Thorn's eyebrows shoot up. This is the last thing he was expecting. But it's also the perfect opportunity. A few hours at a stuffy party as her guard, and the rest of the night together. It's the best they're going to get. But still, he can't help but tease her.

"Oh, really?" he drawls, crossing his arms over his chest. "And what kind of company are you looking for?"

"A strong, handsome man who can keep me safe," she replies. She pretends to examine her nails, and Thorn bites back a laugh. "I have a lot of enemies, you know."

"I'm aware, Senator," he replies dryly. "I've had a front row seat for most of them."

She waves her hand dismissively. "Details."

The laugh escapes from his lips, a short, sharp sound, and her eyes dart up, a grin spreading across her face.

"So you're just looking for someone to make sure no one tries to poison your wine again?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement, though the memory still sends a shiver down his spine.

 Her aide had been the one to notice that one, and Thorn had to suffer a lecture from Fox on how the security at her events had better be airtight, or else. It had been a mess, and Thorn had made sure to double-check the food and drink at every single one of Vale's events after. And she complained about it. Endlessly.

"Well, that's part of the job," she says with a shrug. "But I'm also hoping you'll stay and keep me company after. If you're available, that is."

"I'll have to check my schedule," he teases, and Vale rolls her eyes. She rises to her feet, smoothing her robes, and her hands linger on her hips, the movement drawing Thorn's attention. He watches as her fingers trail over the fabric, skimming along the curve of her waist, and he can't tear his gaze away.

"Fine, I'll find someone else," she says, pretending to be offended. She reaches for her datapad, but Thorn snatches it away, holding it out of her reach. She pouts. "Rude."

"Senator, please. There's no need for such drastic measures," he tells her as he lowers the datapad, tapping the screen and opening the calendar. He pretends to scroll through her appointments, trying to keep his amusement from showing. “I'm sure I can work you in."

She gives him a sly look. "How accommodating."

"Only the best for you, Senator," he replies. He hands her the datapad, and Vale smirks.

"See that it is, Commander. I'll expect you at 18:00 tonight," she orders. Thorn snaps his heels together, and he gives her a quick salute.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good," she says, her eyes sparkling. She brushes past him, her hand trailing over his forearm. "I'll see you later, Commander."

"Count on it," he growls, and her lips quirk up into a mischievous grin.

"I'm looking forward to it," she says. She turns and walks away, and Thorn is helpless to do anything but watch her go, the sound of her laughter ringing in his ears. 

As soon as she's out of sight, he lets out a sigh, his shoulders slumping. He doesn't know how much longer he can keep up this charade. He doesn't know how much longer they'll have, or if there's any chance of this working out. But the fact that she's willing to try means everything. And for now, that's enough.

He'll take what he can get.

Vale’s apartment is the kind of luxury that can only be afforded by a high-ranking member of the Republic Senate.

It's located in one of the most exclusive districts on Coruscant, and it's easily one of the most luxurious buildings on the planet. The furniture is expensive, the walls covered in artwork that he can't begin to understand, and the view from the windows is nothing short of spectacular. It's a far cry from his barracks, and even further from Kamino.

The apartment is huge, easily bigger than his entire squad's quarters, and yet it feels empty. Like a showroom rather than a home. It's clean, and modern, and elegant, and completely devoid of any personality.

Vale’s aide Trina, a Rutian Twi’Lek who has been working with her since before her election, and who he’s pretty sure despises him, has been running around the apartment for the past half-hour, barking orders at servers and rearranging the decorations. He hasn't been paying attention, instead opting to stand in the corner out of the way and try not to feel completely overwhelmed.

He's nervous.

It's a new feeling, and not one he's used to. He’s been here once before, but that was only for a few minutes, and the situation was far more dire. The place had been swarming with police and members of the Guard, and Thorn had spent most of his time keeping everyone from trampling on evidence and making sure that Vale was okay. Now he's standing in the living room, and there's no imminent danger, and Vale's not bleeding out on the couch.

The night’s still young, though.

He's still wearing his armor, and he’s grateful for that. It hides his nerves, and he needs every bit of confidence he can get. Vale is still getting ready, and he's not sure what to do but stand around and wait. He's already gone over the security details for the party, and he's already double checked the guest list, and now he's just trying to occupy his time.

He's never felt so out of his element, and he doesn't like it.

“Can I help?” he asks as Trina moves past him.

She glances up, her brow furrowing. He's sure that she thinks he's an idiot, and maybe she's right. But the least he can do is try. He still feels a little guilty for Vale neglecting to tell her anything about his presence until he arrived, and the last thing he wants is to make it worse.

Trina had walked into the living room and immediately dropped her datapa, a surprised, and slightly horrified, expression on her face when she saw him. Vale had quickly explained that she'd invited Thorn to be her bodyguard for the evening, and that he was staying. And from the look on Trina's face, that's not a common occurrence. Or maybe it is, and that's the problem. He's not sure.

Then Vale had disappeared into her bedroom, and Thorn had been left with her aide. And the caterers. And the servers. And the bartender. It's been an interesting evening, and it's not even started.

Trina looks him up and down. He shifts, and she lets out a huff.

"No thank you, Commander," she says stiffly.

“Are you sure? I can help with the decorations. Or moving things around.” He nods toward the dining room. “The table is crooked."

"The table is not crooked," she tells him firmly. She turns her head, and her eyes widen. "Oh, kriff."

Thorn grins. "I'll fix it."

She lets out a sigh, rolling her eyes, and Thorn walks past her, heading into the dining room. It's a massive room, the floor-to-ceiling windows providing a stunning view of the city. The table is long, easily large enough to fit a dozen people, and it's decorated with a centerpiece of flowers and candles. He aligns it properly, careful not to disturb the arrangement. When he's satisfied, he turns to Trina, who's watching him with a look of begrudging respect.

"Better?"

"Much," she says, shaking her head. She glances at the table and smiles. "Thank you, Commander."

He shrugs. "Anytime."

She studies him, and he has the sudden urge to squirm under her gaze. Her arms cross over her chest, her eyes squinting as if she can see through his helmet.

"So," she says, dragging out the word. "Why are you here?"

He blinks. That's a good question. One that he's been asking himself for the last month.

"To protect Senator Ishani," he answers, but it sounds wrong. He knows that's not why, not anymore, but he's not sure what else to say. And judging by the look on her face, she can tell.

"Protect her, huh?" she asks, raising a brow. "I thought that's what the rest of the Guard is for. Why did she need you specifically?"

"She doesn't," he says. "She wanted me here.".

"She did?" she asks, sounding surprised.

He nods. "Yes."

"Huh," she murmurs, her brow furrowing. Her arms fall, and she braces her hands on her hips, tilting her head. "Well, that's new."

"Is it?" he asks. He tries to ignore the flutter of excitement in his chest. If she's inviting him to these things, that means something, right? Even if he’s supposed to stand guard for the evening, it still means something. Right?

"Yeah," she says. "She doesn't usually have people over. Let alone ask a member of the Guard to be here. I'm pretty sure this is the first time."

"It is?"

"Yep," she says, popping the p. “She usually just sits and pretends to enjoy herself until she can go hide in her room."

Thorn feels a flash of concern. That doesn't sound like Vale. She seems to thrive off these kinds of things, the parties and the galas and the endless parade of social events. To hear her aide tell it, it's her own personal hell.

"I thought she liked this stuff."

"No, she hates it," she tells him. Her tone is casual, as if this is something everyone knows. "But she knows how to put on a show."

Thorn has no idea what to say. He's suddenly struck with the image of Vale, alone in her apartment, surrounded by strangers. Of her, putting on a show for them, for him. The thought makes his stomach churn. 

He doesn't know Vale, not really. He knows what she likes, and he knows what she doesn't like, and he knows how to make her laugh. But other than that, he's still not entirely sure what's real and what's not. Is the woman who's throwing a dinner party for her colleagues and political allies the same one who's sneaking off to cantina on the lower levels, just to talk with him? Or is she the woman who's laughing at Senator Orn Free Taa's awful jokes, all the while planning his political demise? Or is she both, and neither, and everything in between?

He has no idea, and it bothers him more than he cares to admit.

"I don't get it," she says, tilting her head.

"Get what?"

"You," she tells him.

He feels a flicker of panic.

"What do you mean?" he asks carefully, his voice even, his posture relaxed.

"You're not the usual kind of person she brings to these things," she explains, waving her hand around the room. "Usually, it's some guy she meets at a club, or a Senator, or a businessman. But you're not any of those things."

"No, I'm not," he agrees. He has no idea where she's going with this, and the fact that she's talking about Vale's love life, or lack thereof, isn't helping. He tries not to think about it, tries not to let the jealousy creep up. But he can't help it. “I’m her guard. For the night, at least."

Trina pauses, and Thorn gets the distinct impression that she's trying not to laugh.

"Commander, I've worked for Senator Ishani for five years, and the only time I've seen her happy is when you're around," she tells him. She shakes her head. "Trust me, if she could bring you to every single dinner party and gala, she would."

His heart skips a beat, and his mind races, trying to process what she's telling him.

"Really?" he asks, his voice low and hesitant.

"Really," she confirms. She glances over her shoulder, and then she takes a step closer, lowering her voice.  "I'm pretty sure that's why you're here, Commander. Not for your ability to fix tables."

"Oh," he says, letting out a weak laugh.

She smirks. "Besides, she's been happier lately. She hasn't smiled that much since she was elected."

Thorn shifts, his hand clenching and unclenching behind his back. He doesn't know what to say, or what he should say. Probably nothing, if he was smart. But he's not, not when it comes to Vale, and the way Trina's looking at him tells him that he's already in too deep.

"She deserves to be happy," he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, she does." She looks at him, and he swears he can see something akin to respect in her eyes. "So if you hurt her, I'll have you killed."

“I would never,” he replies emphatically, the words slipping out before he can think better of them. Trina raises an eyebrow, and Thorn quickly amends, "That is, I would never let anyone hurt her, if I could help it. I’m not—we’re not—this isn't—"

“Save it for someone dumb enough to believe you, Commander. We both know that's not true,” she interrupts with a wave of her hand, and Thorn snaps his mouth shut. He's not sure how this went from a polite conversation about furniture to him getting the shovel talk, but he has a sinking feeling that Trina knows exactly what's going on.

He’s about to protest further, but he's cut off by the sound of glass shattering in the kitchen. He and Trina look at each other, and she rolls her eyes, letting out an annoyed huff.

"Karking idiots," she mutters. She shakes her head and strides out of the room, her heels clacking on the hardwood. “Hey!”

Thorn takes a deep breath, shaking out his hands, and tries to steady his nerves. His palms are sweaty, and his heart is racing. He can't remember the last time he was this nervous.

This is stupid. This is his job. He should be calm, cool, and collected. Instead, he's standing in the dining room trying not to lose his mind over a girl. A girl who's not even his.

He takes another deep breath and lets it out slowly. In, out, in, out. He closes his eyes, counting down from ten. When he opens them again, he's calmer, and his mind is clearer. He can do this. A few hours of playing bodyguard, and he gets to spend the rest of the night with Vale. It's worth it.

"Senator!" a voice calls from the kitchen.

"Coming!"

The sound of footsteps draws Thorn's attention, and he looks up to see Vale descending the staircase.

And just like that, his nerves return.

She's dressed in a black silk gown, the fabric clinging to her curves, and his eyes roam over her body, taking in every inch. The dress is simple, but stunning, and the neckline is low enough to reveal a tantalizing amount of tanned skin. Her hair is pulled back, a few loose curls framing her face, and her lips are painted the same shade of red as earlier. He's certain now that she chose the color on purpose.

He can't help but stare. He's seen her in formal wear plenty of times, but each time, it takes his breath away. This is no exception. If anything, this is the best.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she mutters as she hurries down the stairs, blowing a hair out of her face. She's not looking where she's going, her eyes fixed on the datapad in her hand, and Thorn's hands itch to reach out and steady her.

"Watch your step," he says, and she waves him off.

"I got it, Commander," she says distractedly. "Thank you."

"Vale," he says sharply, making her head snap up. Her eyes widen, and Thorn's heart skips a beat. He's usually better about using her title, especially when they're in public. But seeing her like this, her hair tousled and her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling, he can't help himself.

"Sorry, Thorn," she replies, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. She descends the final step into the living room, and her eyes dart to him. "Hi."

"Hi," he says, low and soft, and he can't hide the smile in his voice. 

He looks her up and down, drinking her in, and he's hit with a wave of emotion that he's not expecting. It's more than lust, more than desire, and it's more than admiration. It's something deeper, something that's been building between them for weeks now. Something that he doesn't have a name for, something that's terrifying, and overwhelming, and intoxicating.

She stops a few feet away from him, a shy smile on her face. He can see she's not wearing her heels yet, and it's such a small thing, but it's the first time she's seemed anything other than completely put together. It's cute. And it makes his chest ache.

"So, what do you think?" she asks, gesturing to her dress. She turns, showing off the way the dress hugs her curves. It's an innocent enough gesture, but the way her hips sway and the way the fabric shifts has Thorn swallowing hard, his throat suddenly dry.

"You look great," he says honestly. It's not a strong enough word, but it's all he can think of.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, thank you, Commander," she says. If he looks close enough, and he is, he can see a blush staining her cheeks.

"That's a good color on you," he adds.

"Color?" she asks. She runs a hand over the skirt of her dress, smoothing out a non-existent wrinkle, and Thorn's eyes follow the motion. "It's black."

He steps closer, the distance between them shrinking. He's careful not to touch her, not to let his armor brush against her bare skin, and he keeps his hands clasped behind his back.

"I meant the lipstick," he murmurs. "I like it. It suits you."

Vale looks up at him through her lashes, her gaze heated. "You noticed."

"I did," he says. His eyes dart to her lips, and then back up. "Hard not to. It's the same color as my armor."

"Oh, is it?" she asks, feigning surprise. "How coincidental."

"Yeah, funny that," he replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He braces his hand on the railing next to her, leaning down, his face inches from hers. "I wonder how that happened."

"Who knows?" she says, and her lips quirk up. She's not even trying to hide the smirk. "Maybe you can get a closer look later." 

"Maybe," he rumbles, and she lets out a shuddering breath, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. He can't help but grin.

"Commander, are you flirting with me?" she teases.

"Maybe," he drawls, his hand curling around the railing. He wants nothing more than to kiss her, but he knows he can't. Not yet. And especially not here. "But if I was, you wouldn't complain, would you?"

"No," she breathes.

He lets his hand trail down the banister, his knuckles brushing against the fabric of her dress, and she shivers. Her skin is warm, and he can smell her perfume, the scent filling his nose. He's tempted to bury his face in the curve of her neck and breathe her in, but he resists. Barely.

"Good," he growls, and Vale swallows hard, her eyes dark. He clears his throat, taking a step back and clasping his hands behind his back. "Are you ready?"

She blinks, a hint of disappointment in her gaze, and her mouth opens, but she doesn't speak. She seems to remember herself, her eyes darting around the room, and he can tell she's remembering their surroundings.

"I, um, I'm almost ready," she says, shaking her head. Her cheeks flush, and Thorn's tempted to tease her. He doesn't, but he wants to. "I just need to finish my hair, and grab my shoes, and, uh, yeah. Almost ready."

She looks flustered, and Thorn can't help but chuckle. It's cute.

"Alright, well, don't let me distract you," he tells her. She gives him a mock glare, her hand finding his chest, and she pushes him backwards. He grunts, stumbling, and she lets out a breathy laugh.

"Give me two minutes," she says, and her hand lingers, her fingertips trailing over his plastoid armor.

"I'll give you one," he replies. "You've already taken two hours."

"Oh, please, I'm worth the wait."

"Don't I know it," he mutters, and her eyes sparkle, a smirk on her face. He lets out a sigh. "Go, before you're late to your own party."

"Be right back," she says, flashing him a smile over her shoulder as she turns slowly. He reaches out and swats her ass, and she lets out a yelp, a surprised laugh escaping her. "Commander!"

"Go," he orders, pointing toward the staircase.

"Fine," she replies as she throws her hands in the air. Thorn watches her go, his gaze fixed on the sway of her hips and the curve of her ass. When she's out of sight, he leans back against the banister, a sigh escaping his lips.

This is going to be a long night.

The dinner party is, much like every event that Vale has attended in the past six months, a complete and utter disaster.

But unlike most of the others, Thorn is not entirely miserable.

He's had worse jobs, and this one is pretty easy. There are no threats, no imminent danger, and he's mostly just standing around, which means his brain is free to wander. And it's definitely wandered.

Vale has spent the majority of the night sitting at the far end of the table, making polite conversation and pretending to be interested in the political ramblings of her guests. She's good at it, the act, but Thorn can tell she's not really paying attention. He's not, either. Not with her sitting so close.

He's standing off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes scanning the room. Her guests had made a fuss when they arrived, insisting that it wasn't necessary, and he'd insisted just as firmly that it was. Vale hadn't said a word, simply nodding along. But Thorn had seen the way her lips twitched, and he had known that she was trying not to laugh as he went toe to toe with Senator Taa, who seemed convinced that the whole thing was an insult to his honor.

Now, he's just watching the people around him, doing his best to stay out of their way, his attention diverted between Vale and the servers coming in and out of the kitchen. He's keeping an eye on her, making sure she doesn't choke on a bite of food, or get poisoned, or any of the other things that could potentially kill her. But more importantly, he's also watching the way the light reflects off her tan skin, and the way her eyes sparkle, and the way her lips wrap around the stem of her wine glass.

And most importantly, he's counting down the minutes until the dinner is over and they can have some semblance of privacy.

Vale had warned him that these kinds of events would be long and tedious, but Thorn hadn't really believed her. She had given him a look when he'd told her as much, and she had promised him that it would be awful. She had been right.

It's been an hour, and his brain has officially started to melt. He's not even sure what they're talking about anymore. It's something about taxation rates, or maybe tariffs, or possibly the price of durasteel. Or maybe it's all three. Whatever it is, it's boring.

He can tell Vale is bored, too. Her posture is rigid, and her expression is tense. Every so often, she'll shift in her chair, her hand reaching for her wine glass, her lips wrapping around the rim, and he'll lose his train of thought. The movement is practiced, her movements slow and seductive, and he has no doubt that she's doing it on purpose.

She's a menace.

The senator sitting across from her, a man he can't remember the name of, is droning on about something, and Vale nods politely. Her gaze meets Thorn's, and her lips twitch, her eyes dancing with mischief. She licks her lips, and he sucks in a breath.

Karking hell.

Thorn shifts, his hands clasped behind his back, his fingers tapping an unsteady rhythm on his vambrace. Vale looks away, but not before her eyes roam over his body, and he's pretty sure that she's trying to kill him. He's not sure how much longer he can do this.

“Hey,” a voice whispers from the kitchen, and he turns his head slightly. Trina is standing in the doorway, gesturing for him. He glances back at Vale, but she's still absorbed in her conversation, and he moves toward the Twi'lek.

“Yeah?” he asks warily. She's been giving him weird looks all night, and he's not sure if she's plotting his murder or not. It's hard to tell with her.

She pulls him into the kitchen, and his stomach sinks. This is not a good sign.

She pushes him further into the room, and the staff members pause, looking up from their work. He's never been inside the kitchen before, and it's a lot nicer than he was expecting. It's huge, with counters and shelves lined with equipment that he's never seen before. A team of staff members are moving around the space, preparing and cooking the food, and the whole room smells amazing.

Trina leads him to a corner of the room, where the others can't hear, and his heart starts racing.

"What is it?" he asks, his voice low and urgent. He can't think of a single reason for him to be here. Unless Vale is hurt. Or worse.

"You're staring," she whispers, and his brow furrows.

"What?"

"You're staring," she repeats. "At Senator Ishani."

"I'm supposed to watch her," he replies, his voice thick. "It's my job."

"No, you're supposed to watch her _back_ ," she corrects, rolling her eyes. She steps around him and opens the fridge, rummaging through the contents. "Not her front."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he mutters. He can feel the blush rising on his cheeks, and his armor suddenly feels too tight. "I'm just doing my job."

She pulls a covered plate out of the fridge and places it on the counter. Her head tilts to the side, a skeptical look on her face, and she gives him a once-over, her eyes narrowing.

 "You're a terrible liar."

"I'm not lying," he says, but his voice cracks.

"Yes, you are," she says. "And it's obvious."

"I'm not!" he exclaims, a little louder than he'd intended. He glances over his shoulder, checking to make sure no one else heard. "I'm not. I'm just doing my job, like the rest of the Guard."

“Are they as bad at lying as you are?” she asks dryly.

He frowns. She has a point. None of his brothers are particularly good liars, and Thorn has a bad habit of being too honest. It's one of the many reasons Fox doesn't trust him with any kind of covert missions, why he's the last choice for undercover work. But the idea that it's somehow obvious, that he can't hide his feelings, is disconcerting.

He tries to play it off, but his voice is strained when he says, "I'm not lying."

She gives him a pointed look, and he shifts uncomfortably, the silence stretching out between them. He looks at the floor, at the ceiling, anywhere but her, and the seconds drag on, the tension mounting. Finally, she sighs, and she lifts the lid off the plate, grabbing a fork and handing it to him.

"Here. Take this," she orders, pushing the plate towards him, and he takes it without thinking, the fork clutched tightly in his fist.

"Why?" he asks, his brow furrowed. 

"Because Senator Ishani asked me to," she tells him, a note of amusement in her voice. She looks him up and down. "She said you hadn't eaten, and she didn't want you to starve."

"Really?" He can't hide the surprise in his voice. Vale had mentioned that the meal would be simple, a few appetizers and a few choice selections, but nothing substantial, and he'd been expecting to wait until later to eat. The idea that she's concerned enough to have him brought a plate is...unexpected, and oddly touching.

"Yeah," she replies. "She said that you needed to keep your strength up. I didn't ask why."

Thorn feels the blush creep up his neck, his cheeks heating, and he clears his throat, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Oh, uh, right," he mumbles, his mind immediately going to all the different reasons why Vale might want him to keep his strength up. Reasons that have nothing to do with his duties as a member of the Coruscant Guard, and everything to do with what they'll be doing later.

"Right," she echoes, and her voice is thick with amusement.

He's tempted to walk out of the room, to ignore the fact that she knows, and the fact that she's obviously amused by the whole thing. But his stomach growls, the noise echoing loudly in the quiet kitchen, and he's reminded of the fact that he hasn't eaten since before his shift ended, nearly six hours ago. He'd skipped the mess hall, instead heading straight to Vale's apartment, and he'd been too nervous to think about food.

"Well, I should, uh, I should probably eat, then," he mutters, looking down at the plate.

"You probably should," she says. She leans back against the counter, a small smirk on her lips.

He glances over at the other staff, who’re all making an effort to appear busy, before he pulls off his helmet and sets it on the counter. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and he runs a hand through the curls, brushing them out of his face.

Trina studies him, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Huh. You're cute," she says, and he snorts.

"Thanks," he says dryly as he looks down at the plate in his hands. The food is a selection of cold appetizers, the same ones that were served at the start of the evening, and his mouth waters at the sight.

He's not used to having so many options, not when most of his meals consist of ration packs and protein slurries. This is a luxury, and one he doesn't often get to indulge in. Vale has been trying to change that, bringing him food, and treats, and even a cake, once, and it's nice, but he doesn't always have the time, or the appetite, for them.

He spears a piece of what he thinks is fish and pops it into his mouth, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "Kriff, that's good."

"I know," Trina says smugly. "My cousin owns the place."

"It's amazing," he says around a mouthful. "Thank you."

She gives him a wry grin. "Don't thank me. Thank her."

He nods, looking over her shoulder at Vale, who's still engaged in her conversation, a polite smile on her face. Her gaze finds his, and the smile turns genuine, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and he can't help but smile back. He gives her a wave, and she looks away, ducking her head, a blush staining her cheeks.

"How long have you two been seeing each other?" Trina asks, drawing his attention, and he nearly chokes on his food.

"W-what?" he sputters. He reaches for a glass of water on the counter and downs it, trying to regain his composure.

"How long have you and the Senator been sleeping together?" she asks, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, and he almost chokes again.

"We're not—we haven't—" he splutters, his face flushing. He wants to say that they're not sleeping together, but the words won't come out, and the look she's giving him tells him that she's not buying it, anyway. "We're not seeing each other. I mean, not officially. Not really. We're just, uh, we're friends. Sort of. I think. Maybe."

He takes another bite, hoping to keep himself from rambling. He chews slowly, his gaze fixed on his plate, and when he finally looks up, Trina is staring at him, a bemused expression on her face.

"Huh," she murmurs. She leans against the counter, her fingers drumming on the granite. "Interesting."

"What is?"

"Nothing," she says, shaking her head, and her lekku sway behind her back. "Just...you really like her, don't you?"

He looks back at Vale, who's laughing at something someone said, her nose wrinkling. His heart aches, and he knows that his feelings are written all over his face. There's no use denying it, not to Trina, not to himself.

"Yeah," he admits, his voice soft. "I really, really do."

"That's good. She needs someone," she replies, her tone surprisingly sincere.

Thorn turns, studying her face. There's a hint of sadness in her eyes, and he can't help but wonder what she's thinking. She looks worried, her brow creased and her mouth set in a frown, and Thorn gets the sense that there's more to her concern than just his and Vale's relationship.

"Everything okay?" he asks quietly. “Is she okay?"

"No. I mean, yes. She's fine," she says quickly. She sighs, and her expression softens. "She's just...lonely. That's all."

"Lonely?"

"It's hard, being in her position," she says. She gestures around the kitchen. "All of this is hard. It's not fun. She has to put on a show, pretend to be someone she's not, just so people will like her. Just so they'll listen to her."

Thorn nods. He's seen it first-hand. He's seen the way she changes, the way she shifts, when she's speaking in the Senate, or at a conference, or at a dinner. She becomes something else, someone else, and it's not the person he knows. Or not the person he's starting to know. The one who laughs at his jokes, and steals his food, and smiles at him like he's the only thing that matters. The one he's falling in love with.

"She's been through a lot. More than most people," Trina continues. She glances back at Vale, who's now leaning forward, listening intently to a senator's rambling story. "And sometimes, it gets to her. She puts on a brave face, but it's hard."

"What do you mean?" he asks, his voice hesitant. He's not sure if he's allowed to ask, or if he's allowed to pry, and he's not sure how much he wants to know. But the urge to find out is too strong, and the words spill out before he can stop them.

She gives him a look. "Commander, how long have you known her?"

"About a year, give or take a few months," he answers, his voice unsure. It feels longer, and he's not sure when it happened. When he went from not knowing her to needing her. To wanting her.

"And in that time, has she ever mentioned her family?" she asks, and his stomach twists.

"No," he admits.

"Her childhood? Her past? Anything?"

He shakes his head, feeling a twinge of guilt. The truth is, he knows next to nothing about Vale's life. Sure, he knows her favorite foods, and her favorite holofilms, and her favorite music. He knows that she likes her caf black, and he knows that her favorite color is blue, and he knows that her birthday is in two weeks. But he doesn't know where she grew up, or what her parents were like, or anything else.

He doesn't know her. Not really. And it's not for lack of asking. 

He's tried, many times, to get her to open up, but she's always managed to dodge the questions, or change the subject, or give him some non-answer. It's frustrating, and if he's honest, it hurts. He's bared his soul to her, told her things that he's never told anyone else, and yet, she still keeps him at arm's length.

"Not really," he tells her, his voice heavy with regret. "No."

She nods, as if she was expecting his answer, and a small, sad smile tugs at her lips.

"She doesn't have much left," she says softly. "Just me, and her job, and whatever this is."

She gestures between the two of them, and his throat tightens. Whatever this is.

"And you make her happy," she says, her voice firm, and her gaze flickers over his face. "So, don't screw it up."

He blinks, caught off-guard by the bluntness of her statement. "What?"

"Commander, I've known her for years, and I've never seen her smile as much as she has these last few weeks," she explains, a hint of warning in her tone. "So, whatever this is, whatever you're doing, just...don't screw it up."

"I wouldn't," he promises. He looks down at his plate, and his gaze flickers to Vale, who's laughing at something a senator said. "I would never."

"Good," she replies, nodding, and a faint smile crosses her lips. "Because, for what it's worth, I think you're good for her. And I think she's good for you. So just, be patient with her, alright? She'll come around. Just give her time."

"I will," he says. "For as long as she'll have me."

Trina lets out a laugh. "You've got it bad, don't you?"

“It’s hard not to,” he replies, unable to keep the defensiveness from his voice. He can't help it. Vale has a way of drawing him in, of making him want things he can't have. Of making him want her, and only her, and no one else. “When someone like her gives you their attention, it's hard not to fall in love with them."

Trina stares at him, and Thorn realizes, with a flash of horror, what he's just said.

"Uh, I mean," he stammers, his face flushing, and he takes a step back, bumping into the counter behind him. "I didn't—"

"Did you just say—"

"I said nothing," he interrupts quickly, his heart racing. He can feel the panic building, and his hands tremble as he reaches for his helmet, his mind scrambling for an excuse. For anything. "I didn't say anything."

"Right. Nothing," she replies, her expression a mixture of surprise and amusement, and Thorn wants nothing more than to melt into the floor and disappear. "My lips are sealed."

"Yeah, well, it was just a figure of speech, you know, uh, a phrase, so, yeah," he mutters, and he's sure that his face is beet red by now. The implications of what he's just said are hitting him, and he's starting to panic. He can't believe he let that slip. He's going to get himself killed, and his brothers will probably laugh at his funeral.

Thorn tugs his helmet back on, letting out a sigh. This was a terrible idea. The whole thing. From start to finish.

"Thanks for the food," he mumbles, and Trina smirks.

"Sure. Anytime," she replies, her eyes sparkling, and Thorn turns away, walking out of the kitchen as quickly as he can without drawing attention.

The guests have moved into the living room, and the conversation has switched from business to gossip. The group is seated on the couches and chairs, the servers moving through the room, taking drink orders. Vale is sitting on the couch surrounded by a handful of senators and business owners, all vying for her attention. They're talking over each other, their voices overlapping and filling the room, and she's staring into her near-empty glass of wine, a bored expression on her face. Thorn can't blame her. There's nothing worse than listening to politicians try to one-up each other.

Trina steps into the middle of the group, holding the bottle of wine high above her head. "More wine, anyone?"

"Yes!" a few voices call out.

"Excellent," she says, grinning.

She refills everyone's glasses, and Thorn moves to stand next to the couch, his hands clasped behind his back. He can feel her eyes on him, but he doesn't dare meet her gaze, and he focuses his attention on the wall behind her, keeping his face carefully blank. He's not sure what to say, or how to act, and he's still not over his slip-up in the kitchen.

He doesn't even know if he's in love with her. All he knows is that he can't stop thinking about her, and he's missed her when they're apart, and the idea of her dating anyone else makes him sick. He can't stop himself from wondering if she's okay, and what she's doing, and who she's with. And he can't imagine a life without her.

But he's not sure that's the same thing.

Trina passes Vale a glass of wine, and her fingers brush against her hand. The gesture is subtle, a practiced movement, and Thorn knows it's a signal. But the effect is instantaneous, and he watches as she straightens, her posture perfect, her head held high. Her face transforms, the polite smile becoming genuine, and her eyes light up, the sparkle returning to her gaze.

Thorn has never seen anything like it. It's like a switch has been flipped, and suddenly, she's not the bored politician anymore. She's someone else, someone brighter, and Thorn has the strangest urge to protect her, to shield her from the crowd and their prying eyes, and their greedy hands. To wrap her in his arms and keep her safe, from them, from herself, and from anything else that might threaten to harm her.

“Senator, a moment please," he says, leaning over the back of the couch, and Vale tilts her head back, her eyes meeting his.

"What is it, Commander?"

"Can we speak in private for a moment?" he asks, his voice low, and she frowns, a hint of concern flashing across her face. "It's urgent."

"Oh," she murmurs, her mouth forming a perfect O. She sits up straighter, her brows furrowing, and Thorn knows she's trying to decide if she should play along or not. He nods, just a slight tilt of his head, and her lips twitch.

"Oh, alright," she says. She stands, smoothing the wrinkles from her dress, and flashes a smile at the group. "Excuse me, gentlemen."

"By all means, Senator," one of the politicians, an older man with a long, narrow face, says. "Please, attend to your duties. We'll be here when you return."

"Thank you, Senator," she replies, a sweet smile on her face. It doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I'll try not to be too long."

Thorn takes a step back, his hand resting on the hilt of his blaster, and Vale follows, a confused look on her face. He leads her to the balcony doors and opens them, holding them open for her before turning and shutting them firmly behind him. He doesn't want any distractions, and he doesn't want anyone interrupting them.

Vale moves away from him, leaning against the railing and looking out at the city, and Thorn lets out a breath. The night is warm, the air sticky and humid, and the noise from the city below drifts up towards them. It's surprisingly quiet, despite the sounds of traffic and chatter and music floating up to them, and for a moment, he just watches her.

He's still not entirely sure why he did it, why he interrupted her. He's not even sure what he wants to say. It's just a feeling, a nagging in the back of his mind, and a need to make sure she's okay.

"Everything alright?" she asks as she turns to look at him, her arms crossed over her chest. 

Her expression is carefully neutral, a perfect mask, and he can't help but wonder how many times she's had to pretend, had to lie, had to put on a show, all for the sake of being seen. He wonders if anyone's ever noticed, if anyone's ever asked. Or if they've all just assumed she's fine, that everything is okay, because why wouldn't it be? She's Senator Ishani.

He pauses, his hand still on the door, and checks to make sure that no one is watching. As soon as he's satisfied that no one is paying any attention, he walks over to her and pulls off his helmet. 

Her eyes widen, and a slow smile spreads across her face. She doesn't try to hide her reaction, and it warms his heart.

"Hi," he says, his voice soft, and she lets out a sigh.

"Hi," she breathes.

He places his helmet on the table next to him and reaches for her hand. He tangles their fingers together, and her lips part, her cheeks turning pink. She looks up at him through her lashes, her gaze dark and heated, and he steps closer, crowding her against the railing.

"How's your night going?" he asks, his voice low, and her breath hitches.

"It's alright," she murmurs, her free hand settling on his chest plate.

"Yeah? Nothing interesting happening?"

"Nothing, really," she tells him, and her tongue darts out, wetting her lips. "A lot of talking, a lot of wine. But it's a bit boring. How was the kitchen?"

"It was fine," he says, shrugging. 

"Did you like the food? Trina's cousin is the head chef," she says, her voice light. She looks nervous, a slight tremor in her voice, and he squeezes her hand gently. "If there was anything you didn't like, you can let me know. I can talk to him, see if he can add something for next time."

"It was great," he assures her, his voice sincere, and a small smile crosses her face. "Really great. Thank you. You didn’t have to do that."

"It's the least I could do," she says, waving him off. "After all, I did drag you here against your will."

"You didn't drag me," he protests, his brow furrowing, and she arches an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. He lifts their joined hands and presses a kiss to the back of her palm.  "I volunteered."

"Yeah, but not for this," she says, glancing back into the room through the sliver of a window in the door, where they can just make out the shapes of the guests inside. He can see the tension in her shoulders, the crease in her brow, and he runs his thumb along her knuckles. "I know how boring these things can be."

"You don't have to apologize, Vale," he tells her, and her eyes dart back to his. He reaches up with his free hand and caresses her cheek with his thumb, careful not to press hard enough to disturb her makeup. She leans into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut, and her hand wraps around his wrist. He leans down, his nose brushing against hers. "And I meant it. You're worth the wait."

She swallows hard, a shuddering breath escaping her lips, and Thorn can feel his heart hammering in his chest, the rush of blood pounding in his ears.

"What did you need to tell me?" she whispers, her breath ghosting across his face, and he fights the urge to kiss her, to throw her over his shoulder and take her upstairs, to hell with the dinner party and the guests and whatever the fuck else is happening right now.

"I..." he starts, but the words die on his lips.

_I needed to make sure you're okay. I needed to see you. I needed to make sure they weren't giving you a hard time. I wanted an excuse to talk to you. I needed to hold your hand. I need you._

"Are you okay?” he asks instead.

She blinks, surprise flickering across her face, and her lips part. 

"Yeah. Why?" she asks, a hint of suspicion in her voice. "Are you?"

He lets out a sigh. "Yeah. I'm okay."

"That doesn't sound convincing," she says. Her hand trails down his forearm and comes to rest on his waist, and he can feel the warmth of her palm through the plastoid. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. I just—" he starts, but he stops, not sure what to say. How can he tell her what Trina said without breaking her trust? How can he tell her how much he cares about her, without revealing too much? How can he make her see that he's right here, that he's not going anywhere, that he's not going to leave her?

He doesn't know.

"You just looked like you needed a break," he says, the lie slipping out before he can catch it. "That's all."

"I do need a break," she murmurs. She looks over his shoulder, at the door, and her lips twist. She lets out a frustrated sigh. "I don't know why I agreed to host this thing."

"Because it'll look good," he replies. He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and her eyes drift shut. He loves seeing her like this, unguarded and relaxed, and he wishes they were anywhere but here. "And because it'll help you get reelected."

She grimaces. "It's going to look like I'm trying to cozy up to the rich and powerful."

"Which you're not?" he teases.

"No, I am," she says, her nose wrinkling. She huffs and shakes her head. "It's a thin line, and I'm not always sure where it is. But sometimes, like tonight, it feels like I'm drowning in it."

He looks at her, the sadness in her eyes, the tiredness in her expression, and his stomach churns. He doesn't know much about the politics of the Senate, or the Republic, or even the Coruscant Guard, but he's learned that most people, even the good ones, are willing to compromise their values for their careers. But Vale isn't. And while it makes his job harder, and his life more complicated, it also makes him like her even more, if that's possible.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs, his hand moving down her neck and settling on her shoulder. He squeezes gently, his fingers digging into the tense muscles, and she lets out a soft groan.

“What are you sorry for?”

"That you have to do this. You deserve better," he says, his voice thick, and she lets out a breathy laugh.

"Well, aren't you sweet?" she says, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

"I'm serious," he says, and she meets his gaze, her eyes searching his face. He runs his thumb along her collarbone, a gentle caress, and she shivers. "Vale, if you need to leave, just say the word."

"You mean, skip my own dinner party?" she asks, a teasing note in her voice.

"If that's what you want," he replies, his voice firm, and her lips twitch. "If it'll make you happy."

"You would do that for me?"

"I would do anything for you," he says. The words come easily, falling from his lips like they've been waiting to be spoken. And maybe they have. He's not sure when he decided this, or when he knew, but he does. He knows.

Her eyes widen, surprise evident in her gaze, and her mouth drops open, a soft gasp escaping her. Thorn knows he's probably said too much, revealed too much, but he doesn't care. He's tired of hiding his feelings, of pretending he doesn't want her, doesn't need her, doesn't love her.

He's never been good at lying. Not to himself, and certainly not to others, and especially not to her.

She doesn't say anything, and for a moment, the only sound is the distant noise of the city, and the pounding of his heart. He can feel her staring at him, her gaze fixed on his face, and he holds his breath. Finally, she sighs and looks down.

"Well, that's not fair. Now I really want to leave," she says with a pout, and Thorn laughs, a weight lifting off his chest.

“Then let’s go. I’ll sneak you out,” he says, grinning. He leans down, his mouth inches from hers. "We'll have a whole night to ourselves."

"You can’t sneak me out of my own apartment," she protests, her eyes darting to his lips. "And I have a dinner party to host."

"Sure, I can. Come on. You've spent enough time with these people," he says. He glances back inside. The party is still in full swing, and no one seems to have noticed that they're gone. "You've made your rounds, and you've played host. And I know you'd rather be anywhere else right now. So let's go."

"And where would we go, Commander?" she asks. She reaches up and wraps her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His arm wraps around her waist, and she smirks. "Back to your barracks? So you can show me your bed?"

"I would, yeah," he growls. 

He pulls her flush against him, his grip tightening on her waist. She lets out a little gasp, and he presses his face to her neck, inhaling deeply. Her scent surrounds him, filling his nose, and his eyes flutter shut, his mouth watering at the thought of kissing her, touching her, tasting her.

"And what would you do to me there?" she asks, her voice barely more than a whisper, and he sucks in a sharp breath, his cock twitching in his blacks.

"What wouldn't I do?" he rasps. He presses a kiss to her pulse point, his lips trailing along her skin, and she tilts her head back, her body going lax in his arms. His teeth scrape against her collarbone, and she shudders, her nails digging into his scalp. "I'd show you how good I can be. How well I can take care of you."

She lets out a little whimper, her eyes fluttering shut.

"You would, huh?" she murmurs, her breath hitching as he trails his lips down across the tops of her breasts, his tongue dipping into the valley between them. "You think you can make me feel good?"

"I know I can," he replies, his voice confident. His hand slides down her body, coming to rest on her ass, and he squeezes, eliciting a surprised squeal from her. She lets out a giggle, and his lips twitch. “If you'll let me."

"You're not going to distract me with sex, Commander," she whispers. She runs her hands down his chest, her fingertips tracing over his armor, and she pats his breastplate. "I'm a professional."

"Me too. And I don't mix business with pleasure," he replies, smirking. He leans down and presses his lips to hers, a gentle, chaste kiss that makes her let out a small noise of frustration. "Unless my charge gives me permission, that is."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yep," he says, popping the 'p'. He pulls back, looking down at her. "So are you going to let me have you, Senator?"

Her eyes lock onto his, and he feels his breath catch. Her expression is open and vulnerable, the dark pools of her irises glittering with want, and her lips part. For the first time since they met, she looks unsure, her usual confidence missing, and Thorn knows it's a big step. It's a risk, a dangerous one, and the choice is hers.

He can't take it for her, and he can't make it for her, and he would never force her to do something she's not ready for. All he can do is ask, and wait, and hope.

"Yes, Thorn. You can have me," she whispers.

His heart skips a beat.

She said his name.

_His_ name. Not his rank, or his designation, but his name. Like it's something precious, like it's something sacred, like it's something that's just hers. It's not the first time, but it feels different. More meaningful. More intimate, like a promise, a commitment.

It's everything.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice hoarse, and she nods, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

"Yeah, I'm sure," she says. Her hand finds his and squeezes gently, her touch warm and reassuring. “But I can’t leave. Not yet. So if we could just..."

He nods, understanding immediately. "Want me to take care of you?"

"Would you?" she asks, her cheeks turning pink. "I wouldn't ask, but—"

"Hey," he interrupts, lifting her chin with his finger. Her gaze flits between his, and he can see the uncertainty in her eyes, the worry that he'll say no. But the last thing he wants to do is deny her. Not when she's been so good to him. "Of course, I will. Always. All you have to do is ask."

She smiles. It's a shy, tentative smile, and it's one he hasn't seen before. She's always confident, always sure of herself, but there's something different about this smile. It's not the smile of a senator, or a politician, or a socialite. It's the smile of a woman who's just as scared and nervous as he is.

"Okay," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Okay. That would, um, that would be great. Thank you."

He nods, letting out a soft laugh, and his hands drop to her hips. He lifts her easily, turning and backing her up against the wall next to the door, and her breath hitches. His hands move down, his palms brushing against her thighs, and she lets out a quiet gasp.

"Thorn," she whispers.

"I got you, baby," he says, his voice low and soothing. He reaches for the hem of her dress and pushes it up, his fingertips grazing over her skin. He can feel her shiver, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Just relax."

He drops to his knees, ignoring the twinge of pain in his back and the ache in his joints, and he nudges her legs apart. She spreads them, letting him settle between them, and he looks up at her.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his hand sliding up her inner thigh. He has half a mind to remove his gloves, but the other half, the hornier half, is too impatient to bother. "Can you keep quiet for me?"

"Yes," she breathes, her head tilting back and her eyes fluttering shut. "Yes, sir."

The words send a jolt through him, and he presses his forehead against her thigh, a shuddering breath escaping him. She knows how much he likes that, how much it affects him, and she's not afraid to use it against him. And she knows that if he's not careful, he's going to end up making a mess of his blacks and be forced to spend the rest of the night uncomfortable and frustrated.

"Kriff, baby, you can't say things like that," he mutters, and she lets out a husky chuckle.

"Why not?"

He gives her a light swat on her thigh, and her laughter turns into a squeak.

"Because I can't concentrate," he grumbles, his voice thick, and he rubs the spot where he struck her, his thumb drawing small circles over the red mark that's already forming. He wants to kiss it, wants to lick and suck and bite, but now's not the time. He has other priorities.

Thorn grabs the waistband of her underwear, yanking them down and letting them pool around her ankles. He lifts one foot, then the other, helping her step out of them, and he tucks the black lace into the pouch on his belt. She looks at him, a hint of surprise in her expression, and he grins.

"Commander, are you—"

"Shh," he hushes her as he leans in, his breath hot on her thigh, his hands tugging her dress up and baring her pussy. She squirms, her hips bucking slightly, and he rests his hands on her thighs, holding her still. "Don't move."

"Don't shush me," she says, her voice strained. “I—“

Vale lets out a soft cry as he presses his lips to her, his tongue slipping between her folds. The fabric of her dress falls back over his shoulders as his hands slide up her legs, and he wraps his arms around her thighs, holding her still. She tastes sweet and tangy, and a low growl escapes his throat as he buries his face in her cunt, his tongue darting out to lick and tease and taste her.

"Kriff, Thorn," she moans. He hums, and she shivers, her body going rigid. "Yes."

He pulls her closer, his fingers digging into the pliant flesh of her thighs, and he laps at her clit, slow, languid strokes that have her gasping for air. He can hear the muffled sounds of the dinner party through the doors, and he's reminded of where they are, of who she is, and how many people would disapprove of her being caught like this, with a member of the Coruscant Guard buried between her legs. It makes him feel powerful, in a way, and he can't help but smirk against her, a swell of pride rising in his chest.

"Fuck, you're good at that," she breathes, her fingers threading through his curls, and his eyes roll back in his head.

He loves doing this, and he especially loves doing it for her. He loves the way she squirms, the way she whines, and the way her hips jerk against his mouth. He loves how wet she gets, and how she moans his name, and how she pulls his hair.

But most of all, he loves that he's the only one who gets to see her like this. The only one who gets to hear her, the only one who gets to feel her, the only one who gets to taste her. The thought alone makes him harder, and he's half tempted to pull her down onto his lap and bury himself inside her.

But he's determined to do this for her, to bring her the pleasure she deserves, and nothing more. And as soon as the party is over, he's going to take her upstairs, and they're going to finish what they started.

He pulls away, his nose rubbing against her clit, and she groans, her thighs trembling.

"Oh, fuck," she whispers.

"Yeah? You like that?" he murmurs, nuzzling her. He glances up at her, and his breath catches. Her head is tilted back, her eyes shut, and her chest is heaving, her breasts threatening to spill out of her dress. Her mouth is hanging open, a moan falling from her lips, and his cock throbs, his balls aching. "You look so pretty like this, baby."

"Shut up," she pants, and he chuckles. Her hand rests on the back of his neck, urging him closer, and her hips rock forward, grinding against his face. "Keep going."

He obeys, his tongue returning to her clit. He alternates between soft, slow licks and hard, rough ones, and she lets out a choked gasp, her grip tightening in his hair.

"F-faster," she pleads, her voice shaking. "Please. Thorn."

"Whatever you want," he breathes, and he dives back in, his tongue circling her clit, the tip teasing and flicking and rubbing. Her legs begin to tremble, and she grinds against his face, her hand clutching the back of his neck. He’s forced to tighten his grip on her thighs, holding her in place, and a low moan escapes her.

"So good," she groans, and he pulls her closer, his mouth latched onto her clit. "You're so good."

He can't help but preen a little. He loves her praise, loves the way it makes him feel, the way it fills his chest with warmth. She doesn't give it easily, and he cherishes it, savoring the words like a fine wine.

She tugs at his hair, and a strangled moan rises in his throat. He's painfully hard now, his cock straining against his blacks, and he's grateful for the layer of plastoid covering his arousal. But the friction is torturous, and he rocks his hips, rubbing himself against the inside of his leg.

"Oh, shit," she breathes, and he realizes she can see him, can see his hand wrapped around her thigh, his hips jerking. She lets out a shaky laugh. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Fuck yeah, I am," he mumbles against her. His eyes flicker up to hers, and she bites her lip. "Are you?"

She nods, her eyes locked onto his, and he grins.

"Good," he whispers.

He sucks her clit between his lips, his tongue flicking the sensitive bud, and she whimpers, her back arching. He can feel her body stiffen, and her breathing grows ragged, her chest heaving. She's close, he can tell, and he redoubles his efforts, his tongue swirling and teasing and lapping at her, his nose bumping against her clit with every pass.

"I'm...I'm..." she chokes out, her words fading into a groan, and he can feel her shaking, her muscles tightening.

She comes with a shudder, her legs threatening to buckle, and Thorn holds her steady, his hands gripping her hips. She slaps a hand over her mouth to muffle her cries, and he keeps licking, his tongue dipping between her folds. He can feel her pulsing under his tongue, her pussy clenching around nothing, and he lets out a low moan, his cock throbbing.

He doesn't stop until she's stopped trembling, and he pulls away, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his face. He presses a gentle kiss to her clit, and she squeaks, a shiver running through her.

"There. That should hold you for a while," he says. He sits back on his heels, looking up at her.

Her chest is still heaving, her breasts threatening to spill out of her dress, and her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted. Her head rolls back, and her eyes flutter open, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. She looks gorgeous, thoroughly fucked and satisfied, and Thorn has never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

She lets out a breathless, shaky laugh, and Thorn can't help but join her.

"Good?" he asks, his voice rough.

"Mhm," she mumbles, and her hand moves from his neck to his head. She runs her fingers through his hair, smoothing it down as his lips press a trail of soft kisses along her thigh. "Really, really good."

"Glad to hear it," he murmurs.

"You're good," she says, a soft giggle escaping her. She's still breathing hard, her chest rising and falling, and her eyes are glassy. "Too good."

"Nah," he says, his tone playful. He gives her hip a light squeeze and rises, his knees cracking as he straightens. He adjusts her dress, pulling it down and smoothing out the wrinkles. "I'm just trying to impress you."

"Consider me impressed," she replies, smirking.

She leans in and presses a kiss to his jaw, and his eyes close, a soft sigh escaping him. Her hands find his belt, and he watches her, his heart pounding.

"Let me—"

"No," he says, his voice firm. He grips her wrist, stopping her, and she blinks, her eyes wide. "You don't have to do that."

"But you're..." she starts, and he shakes his head.

"I'm fine," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. He releases her hand, and she looks down, her cheeks turning pink. "Hey. Look at me."

She lifts her gaze, meeting his, and he smiles.

"We're good, right?" he asks, his voice soft. He lifts his hand, his thumb brushing against her cheek.

She nods. "Yeah. We're good."

"Okay. Then I'm okay. More than okay. Really," he assures her, and she swallows, a frown tugging at her lips. "Hey, none of that. None of that sadness. Or guilt. Or whatever that look is. Okay?"

"Okay," she says. Her lips curve into a smile, but there's a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. "I just feel bad."

"Well, don't," he tells her. He reaches down and takes her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of her palm. "I don't. Trust me, baby. This is the highlight of my day."

She laughs, a bright, bubbly sound that makes his chest swell with pride. "Highlight, huh?"

"Yeah. Definitely," he says, grinning. "You look amazing, by the way. Really beautiful. Did I tell you that already?"

She rolls her eyes. "Shut up. You're a flatterer."

"Nope. Just being honest," he says, his eyes drifting over her body. "Seriously. I'm the luckiest guy in the world right now."

“Stop,” she whines.

"Nah. It's true," he replies. He looks back at the door, where the muffled sounds of conversation can still be heard, and lets out a sigh. "As much as I want to stay here and keep you all to myself, I think you need to get back. Before they miss you."

"Right. Yeah," she says. She steps away, straightening her dress.

Thorn reaches up and fixes her hair, his hands moving deftly. It takes him a moment, but he manages to get it mostly back in place. She smooths out the front of her dress and adjusts her cleavage, and he lets out a small, appreciative hum. He picks up his helmet, turning it so she can see her reflection in the visor, and she wipes the smeared lipstick at the corner of her mouth before giving him a grateful smile.

"Okay. Ready?" he asks, and she gives a reluctant nod.

She steps towards the balcony doors, pausing and turning back to him. Her brow is furrowed, and her bottom lip is caught between her teeth.

"Um, Thorn?"

"Yeah, baby?"

“Can I have my underwear back?"

He smirks as he tugs his helmet back on. The taste and smell of her linger on his tongue, and he licks his lips, savoring the sweetness. He'll be breathing in her scent for the rest of the night, and the thought alone makes him giddy, his cock twitching in his blacks.

"Not tonight, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and deep. He pulls his blaster out, checking the charge, and gestures towards the balcony doors. "I want you thinking about what I'm going to do to you later."

Her eyes widen, and a blush creeps up her neck, turning her skin a pretty shade of pink. "And what's that, Commander?"

He holsters his blaster and looks at her. "Everything."

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @champagnejaig

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[charlioak]

full reference for my fallout new vegas companion oc, oviedo! realized I never made him a ref, so I wanted to make his extra special <3

extra info below! (it's a lot)

Introductory Stuff! oviedo vasquez is an NCR ranger. he is stationed at the colorado cliffside at the order of the NCR, observing the legion through his rifle's scope. it is intended that the courier can meet oviedo while working the NCR questline, and can even elect him as a companion after completing his companion quest, MOON RIVER. oviedo can be swayed from the clutches of the NCR and into the courier's debt after the completion of his quest. he is a very faithful man, and very dangerous, too. he will stay by the courier's side unless they side with the legion, to which he will not tolerate them any longer. oviedo also has a long-lost daughter named cassandra; the last remnant of his past he desperately struggles to find. he doesn't talk much about her, nor his past... Personality Notes! oviedo is very blunt. he is standoffish at first and can be read as rude, but beneath that rough exterior is a very loyal, and very hurt, man.  the NCR has molded oviedo into a lethal sniper, thus he is potent with his weapon of choice and very resourceful out in the mojave. he's been with the NCR long enough to become a ranger. if you can stand his distance and periodic blunt insults, you'd find oviedo to be a very useful companion.  he cares about you. a lot. even if it seems like he doesn't. Character Design Notes! some notes on the Cool Dad Companion...... this info has been borrowed from his artfight profile, so some of the language is based around helping others draw him!

oviedo has four jagged scars on the right side of his face. they trail down his neck and stop before his collarbone

he has a golden upper-right canine

hairstyle can be played with! he often sports the mullet. the graying hair is integral

facial hair pretty much stays the same :]c

outfit generally stays the same. for a simpler approach, i'll just take off his hat, duster, and glasses.

lastly, but most importantly, oviedo is latino. please don't whitewash him!

BONUS: Companion Quest and Perk? Huh? MOON RIVER is oviedo's companion quest! working the NCR's questline, the courier can meet oviedo at his post by the colorado river. he'll ignore you until you mention you've been ordered to work with him, and he really cannot ignore his orders. the legion is planning an attack on the NCR encampment across the river - or so is the NCR's hunch. they need someone inconspicuous to retrieve proof of this hunch, and that someone is you, of course! totally not because oviedo wants to be left alone and so he sends you into the legion incognito, risking your life - nope, not at all! under oviedo's guidance and sniper protection, the quest is easily completed. the pair of you present your findings together afterwards. oviedo will then pull you aside and be honest with you, informing you of how you'd overcome his expectations and that he is in your favor. now you can travel together! the courier can also complete MOON RIVER without working the NCR questline. to do this, you can find oviedo at his post by the colorado river and pass a few incremental speech checks. if speech checks fail, the courier can persuade him with charms using the black widow or confirmed bachelor perks. oviedo is... kind of a hopeless romantic and likes praise. so yeah. HAHAH if the courier has a negative reputation with the NCR (i.e. legion build) then oviedo will shoot at you before you can get too close. just... instantly aggro'ed by scent I suppose? EYES OF THE HAWK is oviedo's companion perk. it is a VATS enhancement. while traveling with oviedo, you have increased VATS chances of 50% using a scoped weapon, or increased VATS chances of 30% using a non-scoped weapon. Trivia!

you made it this far. here, take this. (gives you oviedo... no quest needed!)

oviedo is bilingual! spanish is his first language :-)

he has a daughter named cassandra. she's 23.

you can take his hat!

you can take his sunglasses!

you can even take his gun!

if you place cigarettes in oviedo's inventory, he will scold you and not smoke them.

oviedo is terrified of fire geckos. he will run from them.

oviedo's dialogue gradually gets nicer the longer you two travel together! <3 awwwww!

[wallofchynax]

PROVE THY LEGACY: CHAPTER FOUR

ORIGINALLY POSTED ON AO3

Synopsis: It's the Attitude Era and Kiran Smith has been training her whole life to be a star and prove that women aren't just pretty faces. Immediately, she faces push back and is forced to job. She finds an ally in Chyna who trains her, eventually inviting her into Degeneration X where Kiran finds her place. However, the excess of the Attitude Era begins to slowly poison everything Kiran has worked so hard for…

Ships: Shawn Michaels/OC, Stephanie McMahon/Triple H

CHAPTER SYNOPSIS: The day after Survivor Series 97. Kiran gets a warning from the Boss. The women's locker room discuss the rumors surrounding Kiran's relationship with Shawn Michaels. Kiran shares a secret with Shawn she's never told anyone and Bret Hart gives her some parting advice about trusting Shawn.

Content Warning: Discussions of intersexuality (and the stuff that come along with it such as surgical corrections, infertility, anatomy (not in depth but warning just in case)

The day after Survivor Series felt like stepping into a completely different world. 

Conversations died the second the wrong person walked into the room. Some wrestlers buried themselves in their routines, pretending it never happened. Others whispered in corners, heads tilted, voices hushed. The air was thick, too thick, like the entire locker room was waiting for something to explode. 

Kiran wasn’t sure where she stood yet. 

But she knew one thing: she was standing in the middle of it. 

Right in the eye of the storm and she didn’t know if she would walk out of it alive.  

She had barely been in the building for an hour when the message came. 

“The Boss wants to see you.” 

Of course, he did. 

She didn’t ask why. She just started walking. Through the hallways that felt different now, past the crew members whose eyes flickered toward her before quickly looking away. People weren’t sure what to make of her. Whether or not she had wanted it, she had been part of something bigger than her last night. She was aligned now. With what, she didn’t know. 

But everything felt colder. 

When she reached the office, the door was already cracked open. A bad sign. 

She stepped in. 

The room smelled like cigars, expensive cologne, and power. His kind of power. The Boss was leaned back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach, completely at ease. A man with nothing to fear. Because he didn’t have to fear anyone. 

"Ah, Kiran." His voice was too casual, too comfortable. "Have a seat." 

She hesitated for only a second. Don’t mess with the Boss. She sat. 

His eyes studied her, like a puzzle piece he was deciding where to place. 

"You must have some questions," he said, the hint of amusement in his tone almost daring her to ask them. 

Yes. A thousand. 

What the hell happened last night?  Did Bret know?  Was this planned the whole time?  Did Shawn know? 

But she wasn’t stupid enough to ask. Instead, she kept her face neutral. 

"Should I have questions?" 

A flicker of approval crossed his face. Like she had just passed a test. 

“I like that,” he said, nodding. "You’re learning fast about what it takes to be here." 

Her stomach twisted, but she didn’t let it show. 

The Boss leaned forward slightly. His voice was even, steady, filled with something that felt too much like a warning. "Do you still want to be taken seriously in this business, Kiran?" 

Her hands curled into fists in her lap. He already knew the answer. He just wanted her to say it. To prove a point. 

She nodded, careful and slow. 

"Then take last night as a lesson." 

He leaned back again, completely at ease. Like he hadn’t orchestrated an entire man’s downfall on live TV. Like the fallout of what happened wasn’t still echoing through the building. 

"You’re exactly where you need to be," he continued. "Stick with DX. Keep close to Shawn. You two work well together, great chemistry." 

Kiran clenched her jaw. This wasn’t about answering her questions. This wasn’t about justifying what happened. 

It was about control. 

It was about reminding her what was at stake. 

DX gave her security. Shawn, despite all the complications of last night, had put her over with the fans. It wasn’t the career path she had dreamed of, but she was on her way up. And if she wanted to stay up, she couldn’t push too hard. Not now. 

Going against the grain right now would be career suicide. 

So, she swallowed the bitter taste in her throat. Forced herself to nod. 

The Boss smiled. A slow, smug, calculated smile. 

"Good girl." 

Oh, she hated that. 

Kiran forced herself to stand, her face blank as she turned and walked out of the office. 

The second the door shut behind her, she exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over her face. 

That sick feeling in her gut hadn’t gone away. 

If anything, it was worse now. 

The locker room wasn’t quiet. 

It was catty as hell and Kiran hadn’t even stepped inside, but she could hear the voices before she went in. 

“Of course, our new favourite troublemaker gets herself in the middle of everything,” Sunny’s voice carried as her words were laced with that saccharine venom that she had mastered, “Shawn Michaels’ new little pet. She’s not even a real wrestler yet, and yet she gets more attention than anyone. 

Kiran exhaled, so this was how things were going to go today. 

She stepped inside.  

The conversation didn’t stop, in fact it just got worse. A few of the women turned their heads in her direction, but no one had the grace to look embarrassed about the fact that they’d just been talking about her. 

Not Chyna and not Jacqueline. Chyna wasn’t jumping to defend her but she sure as hell wasn’t joining as she leaned against the lockers with her arms cross with an unreadable expression. Jacqueline was getting ready for her match today, unimpressed by the conversation. She didn’t look at Kiran like she was a joke but didn’t fight her battles for her. 

In contrast, there was Sunny.  Perfect, blonde, grinning like a cat who’d just sunk its claws into something bloody. 

“Speak of the devil,” she crooned, tilting her head. “And here she is. WWF’s new favorite little pet.” 

Kiran’s fists curled. Oh, for fuck’s sake. Sunny was trying to bait her into reacting but Kiran refused to play these games so she strode on through, not acknowledging Sunny’s existence.  

That wouldn’t do in Sunny’s eyes. “Oh, nothing to say?” Sunny mused, pouting. “I guess when your boyfriend fights all your battles for you, you don’t really have to.” 

Chyna finally spoke up, “Knock it off.” 

Sunny ignored her. 

“Or is it true?” Sunny went on, sweet as sugar. “The rumour going around? That you and Shawn have been real close lately?” 

A few of the women exchanged glances. Some looked curious. Others just looked like they wanted to see blood. 

Jacqueline made a sound in the back of her throat. “What a dumbass thing to talk about.” 

Sunny shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know, Jackie. Seems like something worth talking about. Everyone’s been wondering. All that time together, all that chemistry in the ring, and then last night, poof. She vanishes backstage with him before anyone can say a word.” 

Kiran turned around. Sharp, controlled and meeting Sunny head on.  

“Oh, Sunny...” She said, leaning against her locker, “Are you jealous? I mean I know you guys were a thing once upon a time...” 

Sunny’s smirk faltered.  

That was all Kiran needed. 

 “This whole ‘mean girl’ thing is cute, but let’s be real. You wouldn’t be talking about me so much if I wasn’t living in your head rent-free.” 

Kiran could see Sunny’s mask slipping from her. The way her fingers tightened on the fabric of her top, the way her lips pressed together just for a moment before she recovered.  

“Aren’t you adorable,” Sunny cooed, but there was fire underneath it all, “Let’s see how cute you are when Shawn gets tired of you, just like he got tired of me,”  

The locker room was dead silent. Chyna straightened up from where she had been leaning against the lockers. Jacqueline scoffed, shaking her head like she’d had enough of this nonsense. 

Sunny wanted her rattled. 

And Kiran was not about to give her the satisfaction. 

Instead, she exhaled, rolling her shoulders like this was just another Tuesday. 

“Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” 

Sunny let out a huff of laughter, shaking her head, grabbing her bag from the bench as she turned for the door. 

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” she tossed over her shoulder. 

Kiran waited until she was gone before exhaling, tension finally leaving her shoulders. 

When the locker room finally settled, when the other women had turned away, Chyna finally spoke. 

“Is it true?” 

Kiran froze. 

“Is what true?” 

“You and Shawn?” 

And like that, Kiran motioned to the door as the two of them stepped outside, Chyna’s eyes not leaving Kiran as she walked out with her. They walked down the hallway for a few moments before Kiran began to talk. 

“...Shawn kissed me last night,” 

Chyna stopped mid step, “What? 

Kiran sighed, rubbing her temples as they walked further away from the locker room and away from prying eyes and ears. Especially Sunny...or anyone from DX, “Yeah...I mean, I don’t know what happened Chy...After everything, it just happened,” 

Chyna gave her one pointed look, “Just happened? How does Shawn kissing you just happen?” 

Kiran threw her hands. They stopped in an empty hallway as Kiran looked around before talking in a hushed voice, “Look, one minute, he’s dragging me backstage and the next thing, we are alone in a locker room,” She exhaled as she shook her head, trying to forget what his lips felt like on hers, “It was in the heat of the moment...I don’t know,” 

Chyna studied her, trying to figure something out.  

“And?” 

Kiran blinked, “And what?” 

Chyna crossed her arms and leaning in, “What are you going to do about it?” 

Kiran scoffed, a hand running through her hair, “I don’t know! I mean, it’s Shawn Michaels of all people...I haven’t even seen him since last night,”  

Chyna let out a low chuckle. “Yeah, he’s got a habit of throwing people off balance.” 

Kiran let out a groan, rubbing her face. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I’m even talking about this right now. The Screwjob happened last night, and somehow my biggest problem today is the fact that Shawn fucking Michaels kissed me.” 

Chyna gave her a side-eye as if she knew something that Kiran didn’t know already.  

“Sounds like you liked it.” 

Kiran snapped her head toward her, eyes wide. “I didn’t say that.” 

“You didn’t have to,” Chyna smirked. 

Kiran groaned again, muttering curses under her breath. “I don’t know what to do.” 

Chyna shrugged, like the answer was obvious. “Then don’t do anything. Not yet.” 

Kiran frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Chyna sighed, stopping at a quiet corner of the hallway. “Look, you’re already in deep with DX. You’ve got the locker room whispering, and The Boss is watching you closer than ever. The last thing you need is getting tangled up in that mess with him. Let...whatever it is that’s going on run its course.” 

Kiran pressed her lips together.  

Chyna wasn’t wrong. 

And yet... 

She could still feel the moment from last night. The way his hand curled around her wrist, the way his lips had pressed against hers. She didn’t even know if she had kissed him back. It had been too fast, too chaotic, too much. 

She didn’t even know what he thought about it. 

Kiran leaned against the wall, closing her eyes for a second. “Yeah. You’re right.” 

Chyna let out a low chuckle, but her expression softened just slightly. “Just be careful, Kiran. Whatever this is, if it’s anything, make sure it’s something you actually want.” 

That was the problem. 

She didn’t know what she wanted.  

Not yet, anyway. 

Kiran and Chyna made their way to where DX would normally be found, in a particular locker room. Kiran heard the laughter before she even got close. It was the usual scene but there was a certain dread she felt approaching as they walked into the room. The group barely acknowledged their arrival. Hunter was seated on the couch, kicking his feet up on the table as he laughed at whatever joke Billy and Road Dogg were cracking. X-Pac was in the corner rummaging through his bag. It was business as usual. 

Except for Shawn. 

He was leaning against the lockers, arms crossed, looking too relaxed. But Kiran could feel it, the tension humming beneath his cool exterior. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, and something flickered there. Recognition. A silent acknowledgment of last night. 

Kiran looked away. She couldn’t look at him. Not yet. 

“Well, well,” Hunter greeted finally, “Missed all the fun, ladies,” 

Chyna rolled her eyes, taking a seat on one of the benches, “Hardly. Telling the same stories isn’t fun,” 

Billy Gunn grinned, chucking an empty can at her, “You love it, don’t lie,” 

Chyna caught the can and chucked it back at him, “Hardly,” 

Kiran forced a smirk, moving into the space next to Chyna but as soon as she passed Shawn, she felt him shift. It was subtle; his arm brushing against hers ever so slightly, but enough to send her nerves into overdrive. 

He did that on purpose. 

Her jaw clenched, but she kept her face neutral, refusing to let it show. If Shawn wanted to play it cool, so would she. 

“So,” Road Dogg looked at Kiran and Chyna, “What’s the latest? The women’s locker room as catty as ever?” 

Kiran shook her head, “Same old same old. Sunny’s running her mouth...” 

“Unsurprising,” Hunter said, “She always believes her importance in other people’s lives is more important than it actually is,” 

“What is she saying now,” X-Pac asked. 

Kiran leaned back, “Same old shit. I don’t belong here. I’m just a valet and not a proper wrestler,” 

For the first time since she walked in, Shawn spoke.  

“Let me guess; she’s also saying you and I are screwing?” 

The entire room went quiet for a second. 

Kiran tensed, her pulse spiking as she glanced at him. He was smirking; that smirk, the one that could mean anything and everything at once. The one that made her want to punch him in the face and maybe something else she didn’t want to think about. 

Billy let out a low whistle. “Well, damn.” 

“Didn’t even try to deny it,” Road Dogg chuckled, clearly entertained. 

Kiran shot Shawn a look, her patience thinning. “Thanks for that, Shawn.” 

“What?” He shrugged; way too pleased with himself. “Just saying, that sounds like the kind of thing Sunny would say.” 

“And it isn’t true, so I don’t know why you needed to bring it up,” Kiran’s voice was pointed. 

Hunter groaned, rubbing his face, “If you two are going to flirt, can you do it in private? I don’t want to hear about either of your sex lives,”  

“We are not flirting!”  

Kiran was livid. She shot up from her seat, but no one took her seriously. The New Age Outlaws were just laughing at her embarrassment alongside X-Pac. Chyna was hiding her laugh behind her hand and Hunter even started laughing 

Shawn just looked at her and smiled. 

Kiran hated that it made her stomach do flips.  

For once, DX weren’t hitting the bar that night.  

But Kiran found herself pacing outside Shawn’s hotel room for what reason, she didn’t know.  

She needed answers but she wasn’t ready for whatever version of him she was about to get. Cocky, smug, dismissive… or something else. Something she didn’t have the energy for tonight. 

But she needed answers, so she knocked on the door. There was a pause before she heard movement from inside, the dull sound of footsteps against carpet. Then, the door swung open, and there he was shirtless, wearing nothing but sweatpants, his hair still damp from a shower. He looked… annoyingly good. Relaxed. Like the weight of the world wasn’t sitting on his shoulders. 

Like last night hadn’t just happened. 

“For goodness' sake, Shawn,” Kiran said looking at the ground, “Would it kill you to put on a shirt?” 

Shawn smirked, leaning against the doorframe, completely unbothered by her exasperation. “Sweetheart, if you came all this way just to admire the view, you could’ve at least brought me a drink first.” 

Kiran already regretted this. 

“That’s not why I'm here!” 

Before Shawn could reply to that, she shoved past him into his room without an invitation. The air inside was warm, carrying the scent of hotel soap and whatever cologne he used. She ignored it, crossing her arms as she turned to face him. 

“Last night,” she said, getting straight to the point. “I need to know the truth.” 

The smirk on Shawn’s face wavered just slightly. Just for a second. Then, he shut the door and turned to her, arms crossed. 

“You’re going to have to be specific. A lot happened last night,” 

She had to will herself into not making her face go red as she remembered the feeling of his lips against hers. 

Focus Kiran.  

“Survivor Series. Your match with Bret,” She clarified. 

Shawn let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck like she was already exhausting him. “Kiran-” 

“No bullshit, Shawn,” she cut him off. “Just tell me the truth.” 

He sighed, dropping his hands and leaning against the dresser. “Look, this business isn’t about telling the whole truth. You should know that by now.” 

“That’s not an answer.” 

“It’s the only one you’re getting.” 

Kiran felt heat crawl up her spine, frustration bubbling beneath her skin. She knew he wasn’t stupid. She knew he wasn’t blind to what had happened. And yet, here he was, acting like it was all just another match. 

She took a step forward, voice lowering. “So, you did know.” 

Shawn’s expression didn’t change but his posturing did, “I didn’t say that. Ki, I’m just as much in the dark as you are. You were never supposed to be part of this rivalry,” 

“Nothing to do with me?” She scoffed. “I was there, Shawn. I watched it happen. I was ringside when they screwed Bret over, and you’re telling me I should just pretend like it wasn’t a setup?” 

Shawn’s lips pressed together. His silence was damning. 

Kiran let out a slow breath, shaking her head. “Jesus Christ.” 

Shawn finally pushed himself off the dresser, stepping toward her. “What do you want me to say?” 

“The truth,” she snapped. 

Shawn tilted his head, studying her for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, he muttered, “Bret made his bed.” 

Kiran’s stomach twisted. 

“That’s it?” she asked, voice quieter now. “That’s all you have to say?” 

Shawn shrugged. “This is the business. People get screwed all the time.” 

Kiran stared at him. She had known he could be an asshole. She had known he wasn’t always the most decent person in the locker room. But this? This was something else. 

“You really don’t give a damn, do you?” 

Shawn held her gaze. “Not when it comes to him.” 

And Kiran hated that. She knew they hated each other. She knew that this was more than wrestling. This was two men that despised each other, and Kiran hasn’t wanted to be part of that but...she was. She could never take that back. She didn’t know what to say. She turned away from him because she just couldn’t look at him anymore. 

“What about that kiss?” She asked 

Ah yes. Shawn looked as if he would much rather be talking about. 

“Oh, Ki,” he said, his voice dropping into something along the side of amusement, “Poor you; was the memory keeping you up all night,” 

Kiran clenched her jaw, whipping around to face him again. “Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Deflect.” 

Shawn sighed, running a hand through his damp hair before sitting down on the edge of the bed, legs spread, elbows resting on his knees. He looked up at her, expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes. Something that wasn’t quite smug, wasn’t quite serious. 

“What do you want me to say?” he asked. 

Kiran crossed her arms. “Why did you do it?” 

For the first time since she stepped into the room, Shawn didn’t have an immediate response. He looked at her, really looked at her, then exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. 

“Because I wanted to,” he finally admitted. 

It wasn’t the answer she has expected. It was honest which threw her off entirely because getting him to be honest was a task in itself.  

She swallowed. “You were high.” 

He smirked. “And?” 

“And that means it didn’t mean anything.” 

Shawn’s smirk didn’t fade, but it did shift. Just a little. Just enough to make her feel unsteady. 

“You sure about that?” he asked. 

Kiran hated the way her stomach twisted at that. She shook her head, taking a step back. “This is insane.” 

Shawn leaned back on his hands, watching her, completely relaxed. “Then why are you still here?” 

This was the problem. She didn’t really know why she was there. Why did she come back. Was it Survivor Series or was it...something else? 

But before she could answer that, Shawn spoke up again.  

“Tell me something I don’t already know about you?” 

Kiran froze confused. 

“What?” 

“I still know very little about you, Ki,” 

Kiran narrowed her eyes. “That’s not the conversation we were having.” 

Shawn tilted his head, watching her like he was studying something he couldn’t quite figure out. “Maybe not,” he admitted, “but humour me.” 

Kiran exhaled sharply, crossing her arms even tighter against her chest. “Why?” 

Shawn shrugged. “Because I like knowing things.” 

Kiran scoffed. “Yeah, you’ve said that before.” 

“And I meant it.” Shawn leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Come on, give me something. Something no one else knows.” 

She hesitated, her fingers tightening where they rested against her arms. Kiran exhaled slowly, looking away. He was still watching her, waiting. She hated that he had this effect on her—that he could twist the conversation into something she wasn’t prepared for. 

Her fingers curled at her sides. 

Fine. 

“I’m intersex,” she said, voice even. 

She couldn’t look at Shawn. She didn’t know what even possessed her to tell him that. She never told anyone. Her family were the only people that knew. Her father always told her not to tell others if she wanted to be liked as if something like that was such a deal breaker, but she really did internalise it. She had spent her whole life keeping that part of herself hidden. She had never told anyone in this business. She knew what the locker room was like, knew how people whispered, how they turned on you the second they sensed something different. 

She had no idea why she was saying it now. 

But Shawn didn’t flinch. He didn’t crack a joke. He didn’t pull away or look at her any differently. 

He just sat there; eyes sharp with curiosity. 

“Okay,” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “So, what does that mean?” 

Kiran blinked, caught off guard. He wasn’t making it into a joke. He wasn’t laughing at her.  

He was listening.  

She let go of the breath she was holding and sat down next to him, leaving a bit of space between them.  

“I...I was born...different from other little girls,” She had never had to explain this to anyone in her life and she didn’t know how to begin, “More testosterone, no ovaries, indistinguishable genitals. I had to get surgery when I was a baby to look more...normal,” She hated that word. Normal.  

Shawn nodded, slow and thoughtful. He wasn’t staring at her like she was a puzzle to be solved, or some shocking anomaly—he was just absorbing it, like she had told him something as simple as her favourite colour. 

“Damn,” he muttered, leaning back against the wall. “They really decided all that for you before you even knew, huh?” 

Kiran swallowed. “Yeah.” 

Shawn let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “That’s messed up.” 

Kiran let out a breathy, almost disbelieving chuckle. “You’re telling me.” 

For a moment, there was silence between them. Not uncomfortable, not heavy—just quiet. 

Kiran had spent her whole life fearing this exact moment. The moment someone looked at her differently, the moment someone pulled away, the moment someone made her feel like she wasn’t a real woman. Her father told her that most men would pull away from her as soon as she told them. 

But Shawn hadn’t done any of that. 

He just accepted it. 

“Anyone else know?” 

She hesitated before shaking her head. “No one here.” 

Shawn hummed, nodding again like he understood. “Well, secret’s safe with me.” 

Kiran turned her head toward him, searching his expression for any cracks, any sign that he was humouring her or holding something back. But all she saw was honesty. 

And she didn’t know what the hell to do with that. 

“…Thanks,” she said, and for once, she meant it. 

She needed a drink.  

Shawn had left her with much more questions than answers. Not just about Survivor Series, but about...everything. He listened to her. He accepted her secret without so much as a flinch and yet, Kiran would have preferred if he had reacted badly because that would have been a lot easier to process than...whatever this was. Kiran made her way to the bar, ordering whiskey neat, something sharp to ground her. She took a seat at the far end, not wanting to be noticed, not wanting to have another conversation with anyone tonight. 

And then, she saw them. 

Owen Hart was the first to catch her eye. He was seated at the bar just a few stools down, nursing a drink of his own. His posture was relaxed, but there was something tense about his expression, like his mind was elsewhere, like the weight of what had happened last night hadn’t left his shoulders. 

Kiran barely had time to decide whether to acknowledge him before she noticed Bret. 

Bret Hart was sitting further down, his back mostly to her, speaking lowly to Owen, his fingers curled tightly around his glass. 

Kiran’s stomach twisted. 

She wasn’t sure why she felt like she’d been caught, but she did. She hadn’t done anything wrong, she hadn’t even known what was going to happen last night, but guilt still gnawed at the edges of her mind. She had been ringside. She had been part of it. 

As she turned back to the bar to enjoy her drink in peace, she felt the presence of of someone getting off their chair and getting closer. Kiran pretended she didn’t notice...until they spoke.  

"Didn't think we'd see you here,"  

It was Owen Hart. 

His tone wasn’t sharp, but it wasn’t exactly welcoming either. Just neutral. Maybe even a little tired. 

Kiran turned slightly, gripping her glass as she looked at him. “Didn’t think I’d be here either.” 

Owen studied her for a moment before sitting in the stool next to her, then let out a soft breath, shaking his head. “Hell of a night last night.” 

Kiran let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah. Something like that.” 

She expected Owen to leave it at that, maybe turn back to Bret and let her drink in peace. But instead, he swirled the liquid in his glass, glancing at her again. 

"You knew, didn’t you?" he asked. 

Kiran stiffened. She had seen it coming, but it still hit her like a slap. 

“No,” she said firmly, turning to face him fully. “I didn’t.” 

Owen’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes searched hers, trying to gauge if she was lying. Whatever he found there must have been convincing because he gave a small nod. "Figures. You didn’t look like someone in on it." 

Then, there was the presence of someone else next to her.  

Bret Hart. 

But he didn’t sat down. He didn’t look at her with the same neutrality that Owen did. His gaze was heavier, sharper, carrying something that made Kiran’s stomach turn. 

"You don’t need to be here," Bret said. 

Kiran’s jaw tightened. "Didn’t come looking for you," she said evenly. "Just needed a drink." 

Bret nodded, like he could believe that, but there was still something scrutinizing in his gaze. He studied her like he was trying to figure out if she was worth talking to. 

"You’re young," he finally said, voice lower now. "Still figuring out where you stand in all this." 

Kiran scoffed, shaking her head, “I know where I stand,” 

Bret tilted his head. "Do you?" 

That shut her up. 

Bret exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "Look, I get it. It’s easy to think that what happened last night is just business. That it’s just how this company works. But that’s exactly how they want you to think." 

Kiran didn’t respond. She didn’t really know how to.  

“Do you honestly think they care about you?” Bret continued, “That he cares about you?” 

Kiran knew who he was talking about. It was made damn crystal clear. 

“Shawn’s not-” 

“Shawn doesn’t care about you the way you think he does,” Bret cut her off, “Do you think he’s different because he bats his eyes at you. He’s waiting to use you like he does to everyone else,” 

Kiran stiffened. 

He didn’t know Shawn. Bret only saw the bad sides. He didn’t see the Shawn that listened to her life story earlier. Bret didn’t see what Shawn was like when the two of them were alone. He only saw the arrogant cocky Shawn. She saw someone different. 

That scared her. 

She didn’t saw anything due to that realisation. 

The hesitation was enough. Bret immediately continued. 

Bret sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I’ve been in this business long enough to know how it chews people up. You still have time to figure out what kind of wrestler you’re gonna be. What kind of person you’re gonna be." 

Kiran swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "And what if I don’t want your advice?" 

Bret shrugged. "Then I’ll stop talking." 

Owen sighed, taking another sip of his drink. "Look, Kiran," he said, gentler than Bret. "No one’s saying you’re a bad person. Just… be careful. The Boss doesn’t protect people like you. And Shawn? He only looks out for himself." 

Kiran felt something twist in her gut, but she refused to let it show. She wasn’t some rookie who needed to be warned. She could handle herself. 

But...something about his words stuck to her.  

[fenrelmercar]

OC LAYERS TAG

tagged by @wickedviago & @litchigaming, thank you my loves!

also thank youu for the picture @wickedviago

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

Name: Fenrel Mercar

Eye Color: Rich green, but on the warmer side

Hair Style/Color: Red straight hair, in the beginning it's long and gets chopped after she burns it at Weisshaupt. Fun fact: it is not her natural hair colour.

Height: 5'5 / 165 cm

Clothing Style: Loose but structured shirts, bold and dark colours, stark contrast, mostly wears pants (never know when you might get into a fight) in combat and during quests, full armour or at least very well enforced leathers.

Best Physical Feature: I think she would be considerably proud of her physique, despite constantly complaining about how she should be training more.

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

Fears: Letting others down, losing who she is in order to win, being misremembered, intimacy/being truly seen, sometimes herself and the walls she built.

Guilty Pleasure: Those terrible romance novels everyone is reading at book club. She doesn't attend but skims straight to the naughty bits.

Biggest Pet Peeve: Arrogance, people thinking they are above others. Injustice.

Ambition for the Future: Rebuilding Minrathous and then retiring, never to be seen again.

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

First Thoughts Waking Up: Early story "here we go again", post Minrathous & Weisshaupt "What else is on the agenda today/ugh/Maker, can I get one normal day?" and mentally checking in with Solas.

What They Think About the Most: "How can we win? Can we win? Ugh Solas. Actually, I should check in with him. Wait, no. Okay, what else is there to do? So many missives. I should check in with my companions. How's Lucanis?"

What They Think About Before Bed: Nothing, she just crashes from the never ending tide of bullshit they go through daily (or Taash beat her ass in training again)

What They Think Their Best Quality Is: Protectiveness. She would give it all to protect ones she loves.

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

Single or Group Dates: Single. Her time is stretched thin as it is, and also it's not as if she has an option to take him out with anyone.

To be Loved or Respected: Both. You cannot truly be loved without being respected, and respect without love or admiration is just fear.

Beauty or Brains: Brains. Girl goes through a roster of damage throughout the story, but as long as her mind is still there, she will be fine (well, her mind is somewhat there)

Dogs or Cats: Dogs, cats, nugs, griffons, wyverns, doesn't matter much, she's fond of animals. Has a pretty complicated relationship with dragons ever since the attack on Minrathous, but does not blame the species.

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

Lie: Yes. Or more so, withholds the full truth, in belief that she's protecting those she cares about.

Believe in Yourself: In a way, yes. But not in "I can do this", more like "No one else is willing, so I have to, whatever it takes". She does not believe she deserved loyalty or trust from her companions, for she's too focused on the fact that she was never supposed to lead. She carried this to her travels with Varric ever since her work with Shadow Dragons and their later fallout. When she leads, bad things happen. But it's not as if she has a choice.

Believe in Love: Yes. But also believes it can be a burden and hindrance. She's afraid that if she lets herself feel too deeply, she might falter at the wrong time.

Want Someone: Well. She looks at one man and sees the possibility of safety and future, and then there's... well, you know who. Would she ever admit that she wants him? She will, eventually.

LAYER SIX: HAVE YOU EVER?

Been on Stage: No. She avoids the spotlight like the plague.

Done Drugs: Everyone was young and dumb once.

Changed Who You Were to Fit In: Has she changed many outer masks to fit in? Yes. But nothing about her core changed, and thus she never truly felt like the right fit until she met the companions, and even then she felt like a fraud for quite a while.

LAYER SEVEN: WHAT’S THEIR…

Favourite colours: Deep deep red, purplish grey of incoming storm clouds, lush greenery.

Favourite animal: Cat.

Favourite book: Dane and The Werewolf (don't tell Varric, he might get offended it's not one of his)

Favourite game: Archon and Wicked grace

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

DOB: 9:24-9:25 Dragon

How Old Will You Be: No one knows for sure, since she was last seen around the age of 35.

Does Age Matter: In general? Not really. In a romantic relationship? Clearly, she goes for older.

LAYER NINE: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I love: music, the sound of waves crashing, a warm cup of coffee, the feel of new leather.

I feel: a little too much at all times.

I hide: how tired I am.

I miss: what could've been.

I wish: for my loved ones to be safe.

tagging: @amellderiva, @depmode, @curiouswisp, @rooks-dagger, @notyourmamasdeerbat

[mae-peachie]

I realize now I've never taken actual nice photos of my Hancock (or Lucky) bat because I've been too busy toting them around with me everywhere I go. So here those are!

[trekkiehood]

so you said you could be persuaded to talk about your “throughout the great war” series … i am here to persuade you 🫶🏻🫶🏻

It doesn't take a lot to get me to talk about it lol, it's all I think about anymore 😂 😅

I'm so excited about this series!! Putting it under a read more because it got long lol

So currently I'm posting "Numbers With A Death Wish" which is the starting point. Here we have Buck being shot down and it really only covers the month of October. I have some more little one-shots I'd like to write but they're not super plot heavy so I don't know when I'll get to writing them.

My current WIP is my Radio Wip (mid March 1944) followed by Great Escape Fallout (end of March 1944) and then Whipping Post Wip (April 1944). These are all from Bucky's pov and I'm leaning towards this being a long fic. If I do this then the fic would probably run through at least September 1944 but maybe I'd just run it through the end of the war lol idk.

I've written some of Radio and a good bit of Whipping Post so we'll see how quickly we move through this. I'll continue to tease as I write because I crave writing validation lol.

After Whipping Post we start to see the cracks more in both of our majors. Since this one is from Bucky's pov we'll have Bucky withdrawing while Buck is struggling and trying to control the things around him and stay positive for the men.

The next main plot point is when Buck starts acting "weird" and Bucky starts to notice and that's when Gale has a massive breakdown. And Bucky is like ?????? This is around July of 1944 and is immediately followed by a very rough August plagued with deadly illness and psychotic breaks. Now this will be a VERY important plot going forward. Trying not to spoil every single plot I have lol but I don't think it's shocking to say that one of the Buckie's nearly dying of illness will be important going forward 😂

The plot after this is in September 1944 and it will be a turning point in the story. Kind of a "things will never be the same now". But what's FUN is that it's from Bucky's POV but what happens to Buck will be behind closed doors hehe. So at least at the beginning he/we will know that SOMETHING happened and that it has lasting effects, but exactly what will be unknown. After that it's just more of Bucky watching Buck lose it. I have specific things but they are less plot heavy and more episodic. I may still keep it in one long fic but idk lol.

I also plan for some Buck POV one-shots/short stories interspersed and linking with this longfic. It will include things like what started the July spiral and what exactly happened to him in September (technically the September one will be from my OC Wesley Davidson's pov and is the reason for his existence lol). I would also like to play with Buck's German and Jewish heritage. I might let him confide in Solomon things he hasn't even told Bucky about but idk yet. I need to study Judaism more and solidify how much Buck keeps from Bucky. But regardless, even as I'm writing the longfic from Bucky's pov, we will be getting little tie in snippets with what's going on with Gale too!

The biggest unknown in this series is the forced march. I don't know what I want to do. Right now most of this series comes from a place of "canon enough no one can prove it didn't happen in the show" so I'm not sure how I want to end it. Because on one hand, so much angst potential just keeping it mostly canon with Buck escaping without Bucky. But also... idk that I want to separate them lol. And idk if that means they both stay or go. Essentially, the ending I have no real vision for. But that's a good long way away.

We have at least nine arcs I have planned for this long fic I will hopefully come up with a great name for lol. So assuming I do it this way (which the poll is also leaning towards) And then at the very least three-four Buck pov fics. So pray the hyperfixation lasts long enough to get through it lol.

Even though the "main" fic is from Bucky's pov this series is about Buck and his lack of mental stability and trauma in the stalag. It's just more fun to hurt him with Bucky watching hehe

If you have any specific questions I would LOVE to answer them!! Here is a general outline I posted awhile back if you want to ask about a specific plot. This is the ramble I have for now but I will probably ramble again lol. Appreciate all of the support and if there is anything specific you would like to see please let me know and I'll see if I can work them in!!

[bassicallymaestra]

✨Art Tag Game✨

Thanks so much for the tag @myokk and @sonny201818!!

I had a lot of fun with this and y'all had me going through my ancient deviantart account and sketchbooks 😂 unfortunately I nuked my old middle/high school digital art, but I know there is a poorly printed paper copy of some old oekakis floating around somewhere.

Starting with my redraw of my Fallout New Vegas OC, Panica 2010 and 2020

I've divided my art journey in four sections: high school, college, teaching, and post-grad school

💥High School (2004-2008)💥

I really wanted to do more digital art, but we had a very old computer and dial up internet, so I relied on oekaki boards for digital and would doodle traditionally when I didn't have access. I was very into making comics at this age and wanted to pursue animation. Then the stock market crashed as I was graduating and was spooked at freelancing (ironic that now I'm pretty much a freelance professor/musician). I was very into Megas XLR at the time and spat out so much fan art, I got attention from one of the co-creators and crew! I made life long friends with them and I'm sure it's been interesting for them to see me grow up 😂

🔥 College (2009-2013)🔥

Finally got my own laptop with my own software! I would say this time was one of my peak drawing periods, I would often get frustrated in the practice room and go back to my dorm room and doodle to cool off. I got REALLY into the Fallout franchise, especially Fallout New Vegas (tbh still my favorite game of all time) and was really into the fandom. I also got suckered into Homestuck as well

🩸Teaching (2014-2021)🩸

This was a very sporadic art time for me. I had a high drawing output at the beginning when teaching for a couple of years, and then I pretty much stopped making art for a couple of years. Did a lot of experimenting with traditional media and then the pandemic happened and I suddenly had a lot of free time again, so I started drawing more.

🌟Post-Grad School (2024)🌟

Took a hiatus while in grad school to focus on my studies, but then my significant other gifted me Hogwarts Legacy for Christmas and got suckered into the fandom HARD. I literally had abandoned this tumblr and brought it back just so I could hogwartspost. I also had to include the AWFUL first drawing I made after years of no art 😂 I set the art bar low for my comeback

Thanks for joining me on my art journey! I'm so excited to see what the future holds in store!

I tag @itsame-domi, @a-florable, @4ever2000lover, @siboom777, and anyone else who wants to join in!!

[mingiatz]

Summary: Harin lands a job as a publicist at KQ Entertainment, thanks to her friend Hana, but working with idols—especially Seonghwa—proves more challenging than expected. Seonghwa, known for his fleeting romances, is the last person she wants to be drawn to, especially when she’s dealing with the fallout of her own toxic relationship. But as their professional and personal lives collide, unspoken tension and unresolved emotions surface.

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x OC (Harin)

Trope: Idol x Company Staff

Genre: Romance, Angst, Slow Burn, Push & Pull Dynamic

Featuring: ATEEZ (being menaces), Hana & Emilia (From previous stories), OCs

This Series will have multiple Chapters with around 4000 words. I hope you like it. Please be kind this is my first Fanfiction and English is not my first language. (I am open for constructive criticism). I will try to upload a chapter everyday.

Masterlist

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Chapter Four

Harin’s POV

Harin had always prided herself on keeping her personal and professional lives separate.

It was a necessary skill in PR. The industry was ruthless, and if you let emotions cloud your judgment, you were bound to make mistakes.

But ever since she found out her boyfriend had cheated on her, keeping things together had felt like a losing battle.

And the worst part?

Seonghwa had noticed.

✧˖*°࿐ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✧˖ ✧˖*°࿐ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✧˖ ✧˖*°࿐ Harin walked into the KQ PR office the next morning, determined to push everything aside and focus on work.

But the moment she sat down, a shadow fell over her desk.

“You’re late.”

Harin glanced up, blinking in surprise as Seonghwa stood in front of her, arms crossed.

She frowned. “I’m not late. I’m two minutes early.”

Seonghwa arched a brow. “That’s late for you.”

Harin narrowed her eyes. “Are you tracking my schedule now?”

Seonghwa didn’t flinch. “No. I just noticed.”

Harin didn’t know what to do with that.

He noticed?

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’m fine, Seonghwa.”

“You don’t look fine.”

She shot him a flat look. “You’re not my boss.”

“No. But I’m not blind either.”

Harin inhaled sharply.

This was not the conversation she wanted to have before her second coffee.

“I appreciate the concern,” she said, voice tight, “but I can handle myself.”

Seonghwa studied her for a long moment.

Then, to her surprise, he sighed.

“Fine.” He stepped back, turning toward the door. “Just… eat something today.”

And then he left.

Harin stared after him, completely thrown.

He wasn’t pressing the issue. He wasn’t demanding answers.

But he still… cared.

And for some reason, that made it worse.

Because if he kept this up, she was going to break.

✧˖*°࿐ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✧˖ ✧˖*°࿐ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✧˖ ✧˖*°࿐

The last thing Harin needed was another crisis.

But, as always, PR had other plans.

Mid-afternoon, an urgent email came through from a high-profile magazine.

URGENT: Issue with Ateez Feature Article

The editor has flagged concerns regarding some of Seonghwa’s interview responses. They want to discuss potential rewording.

Harin immediately got to work.

It was standard procedure—sometimes artists’ words didn’t translate well, or reporters took things out of context.

But when she read the transcript, her stomach dropped.

The article had framed one of Seonghwa’s comments about idol dating culture in a way that could be misinterpreted.

Badly.

It wasn’t his fault—the statement itself was fine. But if twisted the wrong way, it could easily fuel rumors or backlash.

She had to fix this. Fast.

Without thinking, she grabbed her phone and called Seonghwa.

He picked up on the first ring.

“What’s wrong?”

Straight to the point, as always.

“We have a problem with the magazine interview,” Harin said quickly. “One of your comments is being misinterpreted.”

“Which one?”

Harin explained the situation, listing the problematic phrasing and potential public reaction.

There was a long pause.

Then— “What’s the solution?”

Harin blinked.

No pushback. No defensiveness. Just trusting her judgment.

She swallowed down the unexpected warmth in her chest and kept her voice steady.

“I’ll negotiate a minor rewording with the editor to clarify intent. It won’t change the meaning, just smooth out potential misinterpretation.”

Seonghwa nodded. “Do it.”

Harin exhaled, already typing an email. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thanks.”

It was such a simple word.

But the way Seonghwa said it—low, sincere— made Harin’s chest tighten.

She ended the call, pushing down the feeling.

This was work.

It was just work.

So why did it feel like something else?

✧˖*°࿐ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✧˖ ✧˖*°࿐ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✧˖ ✧˖*°࿐

Harin had barely finished resolving the PR crisis when she felt the exhaustion hit her all at once.

She excused herself to the bathroom, gripping the sink, staring at her own reflection.

The stress. The lack of sleep. The heartbreak she was still pretending didn’t exist.

It was all too much.

And before she could stop herself— her eyes burned with unshed tears.

She took a shaky breath, willing them away.

But then— the door opened.

And, of course, because the universe hated her, the person who walked in was Seonghwa.

His expression immediately darkened when he saw her face.

“Harin.”

She quickly turned away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

Harin clenched her jaw. “I just need a minute.”

But Seonghwa, being him, didn’t budge.

Instead, he let out a slow breath. “Sit down.”

Harin blinked. “What?”

Seonghwa pulled out a chair from the staff break area. “Sit.”

For some reason, she listened.

And then, in the most unexpected move of all, Seonghwa grabbed a bottle of water, opened it, and handed it to her.

“Drink.”

Harin stared at him. “Did you just command me to hydrate?”

Seonghwa didn’t even blink. “Yes. Now drink.”

Despite everything— the stress, the exhaustion, the complete and utter breakdown of her life— she let out a weak laugh.

And then, before she could stop herself, she drank.

Because Seonghwa was impossible.

Because she was too tired to fight him.

Because, maybe for the first time, she didn’t want to.

After a long silence, Harin sighed, setting the water bottle down.

“You know, you’re surprisingly good at this.”

Seonghwa arched a brow. “At what?”

“Annoying me into self-care.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face. “It’s a skill.”

Another silence.

Then— “Thanks.”

It was quiet, barely above a whisper.

Seonghwa’s gaze softened slightly. “Don’t mention it.”

And for the first time in weeks, Harin felt like maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t completely alone in this.

✧˖*°࿐ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✧˖ ✧˖*°࿐ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✧˖ ✧˖*°࿐

Next Day

The last person Harin wanted to see was standing outside KQ Entertainment’s main entrance.

Lee Jaehyun.

Dressed impeccably in a designer coat, hands in his pockets, looking like he had walked straight off a drama set.

And he was waiting for her.

Harin’s stomach twisted in frustration.

Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?

She had ignored his calls. She had ignored his pathetic attempts to text her. She had made it clear that they were over.

Yet here he was, standing in front of KQ like he belonged there.

As soon as she stepped out of the building, Jaehyun’s eyes locked onto her.

“Harin.” His voice was smooth, calculated. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Harin didn’t stop walking.

“Go away, Jaehyun.”

“Just hear me out.”

She scoffed. “I don’t need to hear anything. We’re done.”

Jaehyun moved to block her path, his perfect, handsome face twisting into something desperate.

“I made a mistake, okay? But I miss you.”

Harin clenched her jaw, her nails digging into her palms.

She had once fallen for that voice, for those words.

But now?

Now they meant nothing.

She exhaled sharply, stepping around him. “I don’t care. Move on, Jaehyun.”

“I can’t.”

Her steps halted.

He sounded… genuine.

For a second—just a second—the old, stupid, naive part of her wanted to believe it.

But then she remembered the lies. The betrayal. The way he had looked at her like she was disposable.

She turned to face him fully, her voice cold.

“Then that’s your problem.”

Jaehyun’s jaw tightened.

And then, for the first time, his mask cracked.

A flicker of anger.

But Harin didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.

Instead, she walked away.

Because Jaehyun didn’t deserve her time anymore.

Seonghwa’s POV

Seonghwa wasn’t the type to meddle.

But something about Harin was… off.

She was always sharp, controlled, and precise when it came to her job. But lately?

She had been distracted.

Forgetting meetings. Misplacing files. Staring at her phone with an expression that didn’t belong on her face.

Seonghwa wasn’t sure why he noticed.

Maybe because he had gotten used to her being a little too competent.

Or maybe because when she wasn’t at her best, he felt off too.

Either way, he knew something was wrong.

And apparently, so did everyone else.

“You keep staring at her.”

Seonghwa didn’t even look up from his phone. “No, I don’t.”

Mingi smirked, nudging him. “You do. It’s kind of cute.”

Seonghwa finally glanced up, unimpressed. “I check on all of our staff.”

Wooyoung snorted. “Oh, sure. I’m sure you’re just as concerned about CEO Kim’s well-being.”

San leaned back, grinning. “Face it, hyung. You care.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

And then it got worse.

Because Emilia and Hana walked in.

And they had heard everything.

“Wait, wait, wait—who is Seonghwa caring about?” Emilia’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

Hana crossed her arms. “I’d like to know too.”

Seonghwa sighed. “I hate all of you.”

Hongjoong smirked. “You’re avoiding the question.”

Seonghwa ignored them, scrolling through his phone. “Don’t you all have better things to do?”

“Nope.” Wooyoung grinned. “Not when your love life is finally interesting.”

Seonghwa opened his mouth to deny everything.

But then, across the room, he caught sight of Harin.

She was standing near her desk, staring blankly at a file like she had completely forgotten why she was holding it.

And for some reason, that bothered him more than it should.

He exhaled slowly.

Damn it.

Maybe they weren’t entirely wrong.

Harin’s POV

Harin should have known that Jaehyun wouldn’t give up so easily.

The first time he showed up at KQ Entertainment, she had shut him down immediately. Told him to move on.

She thought that would be the end of it.

But she had underestimated his persistence.

Because today, he came back.

And this time, he wasn’t waiting outside.

He had managed to get inside the building.

And before she could even process what was happening, he was standing in front of her office door.

Again.

If Harin didn’t know better, she would have thought he was a celebrity himself.

Tall, broad-shouldered, perfectly styled black hair, and a face that looked like it had been crafted for the big screen.

Her ex-boyfriend, Lee Jaehyun, had always been handsome. That was never the problem.

The problem was that he was also a lying, manipulative bastard.

And right now, he had the audacity to smile at her.

“Harin.” His voice was smooth, practiced. Like he had rehearsed this moment in his head.

Harin’s entire body went rigid.

“Are you serious?” she hissed. “I told you to leave me alone.”

Jaehyun sighed dramatically. “Come on, don’t be like that.”

Harin glanced around, realizing that some of the KQ staff members had stopped what they were doing to watch.

Great.

She clenched her jaw. “I’m at work, Jaehyun. You need to leave.”

Jaehyun ignored her, stepping further into the office.

“I just want to talk. To explain.”

Explain?

EXPLAIN?

Harin let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, you mean explain why you cheated on me? Please, enlighten me.”

Jaehyun’s jaw tensed, but he quickly masked it with another fake, charming smile.

“You don’t understand. It wasn’t like that.”

Harin scoffed. “Oh? So you didn’t sleep with someone else while we were together?”

Silence.

Jaehyun’s smile wavered.

Harin shook her head. “That’s what I thought.”

She moved toward the door, fully intending to throw him out herself.

But Jaehyun suddenly reached out, grabbing her wrist.

And that was the final straw.

“Let go of me, Jaehyun.”

“Not until you listen to me.” His grip tightened slightly, not hurting her, but firm. “I made a mistake, okay? But I regret it.”

Harin yanked her arm free.

Her heart was pounding.

She could feel the weight of his presence, his persistence, his refusal to just let her go.

And she hated that it still made her shake.

“You regret it?” She let out a breathless laugh. “That’s funny. Because I don’t.”

Jaehyun stilled.

Harin took a step back, eyes burning.

“I don’t regret leaving you. I don’t regret walking away from someone who treated me like an afterthought.”

Jaehyun’s jaw clenched. His eyes darkened.

And then, for the first time, his mask cracked.

“You’re being dramatic.”

Harin’s hands curled into fists.

But before she could say anything, before she could tell him to go to hell, another voice cut through the air.

A deep, sharp voice filled with cold authority.

“I think she told you to leave.”

Seonghwa’s POV

Seonghwa had been walking past the PR offices when he heard raised voices.

He didn’t intend to eavesdrop.

But then he heard Harin’s voice—low, tense, unsteady.

And then he saw him.

A man, tall and polished, with movie-star features, standing way too close to Harin.

And then Seonghwa saw her face.

The tension in her shoulders. The way her hands shook slightly at her sides.

And he knew.

She was scared.

And that?

That was enough.

“I think she told you to leave.”

Jaehyun’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing.

“Who the hell are you?”

Seonghwa didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

“Someone who doesn’t appreciate uninvited guests.”

Jaehyun scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Stay out of this, idol boy.”

Seonghwa’s jaw ticked.

Oh.

So that’s how this guy wanted to play it?

Before he could respond, he noticed movement behind him.

And then, one by one, the rest of Ateez appeared.

First Hongjoong. Then Mingi, Wooyoung, San, and the others.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t coordinated.

But the moment one of them had heard Seonghwa’s voice turn sharp, they had followed.

And they weren’t the only ones.

Several KQ staff members had gathered near the hallway, whispering among themselves.

Jaehyun, finally realizing he had an audience, stiffened.

His gaze flickered to the group, then back to Harin.

His hands curled into fists.

“Fine.” His voice was cold. “I hope you realize what you threw away, Harin.”

Harin didn’t even flinch.

“I already did.”

Jaehyun’s jaw clenched.

Then, finally, he turned and stormed out.

The moment the door shut behind him, the tension snapped like a rubber band.

Harin let out a shaky breath, gripping the desk for support.

And before she could think—before she could process everything that had just happened—she felt a warm hand on her back.

Steady. Firm. Reassuring.

She turned, and Seonghwa was there.

Not saying anything. Just standing there. Solid.

And for some reason, that was what broke her.

Her shoulders slumped.

And for the first time in weeks, she let herself feel the weight of everything.

She closed her eyes.

And she let herself breathe.

 

Masterlist

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Disclaimer:This is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and scenarios in this story are entirely fictional and not intended to reflect the real lives of the members of Ateez or any other individuals. This fanfiction is purely for entertainment purposes.

[ryanatwoodenthusiast]

how i would fix the oc

this is going to be a loooooong post

season 1 – doesn't need any fixing in my opinion, i actually don't think i'd take away the luke/julie relationship even though it was digusting because it did have a big impact on the plot and i also don't think i'd take away anna and luke leaving because it would probably take away from the closeness of the core four

regardless of that, i do think it was a mistake to make them leave but the show would've been extremely different then

season 2 – i would probably make summer care for marissa more in 2x07 when she's shouting at her parents, because summer (and the others too) all kind of watched but didn't take care of her which i found a bit odd

i would have made lindsay return at the end of season 2, at caleb's funeral

she was a part of that family and i really think she could've had a great friendship with ryan and a really cute sisterly relationship with marissa, she could have been taken in by the coopers

season 3 – they could've dealt with the fallout of the trey situation more, in my opinion and the relationship between dean hess and taylor was unneccessary and didn't impact the plot in any way, shape or form

instead of charlotte being a scammer, they could have made her a new and loyal friend to kirsten but then again, it strengthened her friendship with julie, which is one of my favorite aspects of the later seasons

when johnny died, i think ryan could have definitely been way more empathetic – he would've let marissa grieve and they would have talked out their feelings about the situation, and they wouldn't have one of their last conversations as a couple being her saying that he was glad about johnny's death

they still would have decided to break up, but ryan would not have dated sadie, but marissa still would have dated volchok

she also would have kept her friendship with chili at first, with volchok coming between the two

when she got 'redeemed' by breaking up with him, she would have befriended chili again

the end of the season would have stayed the same, but ryan and marissa would have hugged one last time before her death

season 4 – it would have started with marissa's funeral, showing a lot of old characters returning

there would have been no sound, but we would see the faces of the characters and feel the impact of her death

it would be shown that ryan is not in attendance but we would see him standing at the door of the church briefly, looking in

at brown, anna would be summer's roommate and would take in taylor's position in the group

ryan would not be in a relationship with anyone at the beginning of the season but would strengthen his friendship with the others

maybe an old ex of his would come back or he would get together with taylor, but not as early as it happened in the actual show

the impact of marissa's death would be a lot more clear, with seth also grieving (very important)

frank would come back and attempt to contact ryan and would still do his guilt tripping/lying thing but they'd decide to not remain in contact at the end

julie would not have dated him, but bullit would still exist and be in a relationship with her but he would be less of a caricature and more of an actual character, and his father-daughter relationship with kaitlin would be focussed on even more

the part where julie and kaitlin both are into his son would not exist

i still think there should be a second love interest for her, because the impact of her not choosing anyone at the end would be stronger then, but i don't like the incestuous relationship with frank and the shared sibling between ryan and marissa

the earthquake would still happen, and the sethmer storyline would stay the same as well

next is the finale, but i'll make a seperate post for that

[idiosinkratico]

i forgor to post this. these are my different couriers. more below. WARNING: theres actually A LOT of text. i went kinda crazy there..

okay so the first one... i cant choose his name, well, i do have his name is just that does it make sense? like the reason he haves that names, does it make sense? How does it make sense that a Hispanic family chose that name since they have reserved what little remains of their culture for years? So it all started clearly with the fact that their ancestors were Hispanic, the war came, they were among the few who managed to enter one of the Vaults. and well, the family wanted to maintain their identities so among themselves from generation to generation they continue speaking Spanish and having some hispanic practices adhered into them. Although over the years, after getting used to the new society, they 'lose' a bit of that. For example, they speak more English now than they did back in 2127. Yes, I made this OC to experience a bit of what other cultures/nationalities would be like in Fallout, whose world focuses more on the United States than anything else.

Well anyway his name is Ismael surname Barrera. Now to actually explain who he is, he's of course, courier six, but he is more of a traveler than anything else. his gender is quite unknown, not even them can explain it, and he doesnt care if he gets confused glances. is whatever for him (have you noticed the lil bit of self insert yet?). oh and also he likes to travel for the sake of learning new places, new people and how the Wasteland works. she also is a Prospector (polite name for scavenger. yes i robbed this phrase from the game). he loveees to collect stuff, which is why he wears the roving trader outfit! also i added other things to make it look like he does collect and reutilize things a lot. like the NCR helmet. he ISN'T from NCR (and actually critizes them a lot), but he keeps the helmet. also yes i made it deliberadly to look weird is a helmet with goggles then he wears glasses, and then again theres another goggles on his neck... why? because he never feels is enough. i mean, while collecting stuff he may have the same things because who knows if the other could be lost or broken. companions say that they look like a whole ahh brahmin pack, and that hey, they exist too. give them some of their stuff, your back doesnt look okay. as in personality, i think i let it clear hes curious. way too curious. so many times he got into combat because they looked at something and wanted to look what it was, then boom it was a big scorpion. also they are definitely idealistic, they believe that well if the world cant change, at least she haves to change, and give people a reason to believe not everything is hopeless (so yeah he has good karma). they also are analyze almost non stop, thats a part of their curiosity. and i mean like he can analyze from how the factions works and how all the options (NCR, Legion, Mr. House, and yes, even Yes Man) will affect the Mojave, lalala but also suddenly analyze hey how do robots do that thingy when a man loves a woman so much? theres way more but i think this should be enough. other stuff includes: loves history and science. collects books from time to time and reads it a lot, which explains where he gets big words. barely remembers his past other than he traveled a lot and why he does so. shes around his early twenties. major skills are: Science, Survival and Guns. Traits: Four Eyes and Hoarder. oh and;

S: 7 P: 3 E: 5 C: 4 I: 8 A: 7 L: 6

> As for the other, this one i just did recently. A compulsive liar. Havent still decided his name, though Oscar sounds good enough. Around his late twenties. Identifies as a man. Worked as a courier because he didnt have anything else better to do. After getting shot, while it wasnt of course pleasurable, he kinda liked it since finally he has something interesting to tell and is actually the truth AND he was shot for actually being important. he twists the story a bit just to make himself look better. also yes when veronica asks him where does he comes from, he unironically and bit dramatically answers "From the grave". cares a bit too much about his appearance. well more like he cares what people think of him. you can imagine the amount of joy he had when he heard in the radio about himself and how people seem to finally see him as someone famous. as for what side he goes for, he chooses Yes Man instantly. You can already see his S.P.E.C.I.A.L. status so i wont bother putting it again. Oh and he also suffers a bit of amnesia from the bullet. He has mostly good karma but since hes also bit of a robber, doesnt have the best reputation, and also, people find out he lies a bit too much. Major skills includes; Barter, Sneak and Lockpick. Traits: Kamikaze and Fast Shot.

> And the last one. Her name is Dhalia. Around her late twenties as well. Tbh that wasnt her design at first. Thats a doodle i did but i liked it so much i chose that drawing as her new design. For her i dont really know what kind of personality she may have. I guess shes the quiet, logical type of person. She values reason before all... or well thats what she says. Also shes very blunt. Doesnt tolerates at all if she sees bitchy behaviour. bit too serious but doesnt mean she doesnt have a sense of humor. She was a mercenary before becoming a courier, why did she choose to be one? to take a break... that sadly didnt last as she was shot in the head. she has more like neutral karma. Like she doesnt really 'care' about whats right or wrong. she mostly looks for herself before anything else. surviving is the first and foremost important step. that doesnt mean she can't help others though, but most of the time when she helps someone is more because she logically assumes that yeah, this is the right thing to do, and doesnt do it out of compassion. at first she was siding with Mr. House just because 'is her job' but she herself realizes that he isnt a very good choice for the Mojave. she may side more with NCR because she thinks they are the ones who may bring more stability to the Mojave, and this also probably because she was born in the NCR (i am not saying shes right) (though i cant still decided for myself what side she may take. well, i am still writting her so i guess it makes sense). Major skills are: Guns, Sneak and Medicine. Traits: Trigger Discipline and Skilled. And;

S: 6 P: 7 E: 7 C: 3 I: 8 A: 9 L: 4

- I have way more OCs (this is how i know the fixation is down bad lmao). Like i have a latinoamerican ghoul that like i want to explore once again about other cultures/nationalities in Fallout, though i guess to make it more 'fit' to themes of the franchise, will be about the American dream, though i dunno if there was such thing like that in Pre-War America, which is why i am kinda leaving him on the dust until i know better about this. Then theres also another ghoul who is an old doctor lady, actually inspired in one my very old OCs and realized that i could just make her a ghoul and thats it. That is more of my love towards old ghouls... we need them more, desperadly. also made her to be from Vault 12 and be one of the ghouls to leave the area around when Set was set (no pun intended) for leader. likes to medically study how ghoul transformation works. also works as a doctor as she has quite the knowledge from Pre-War medicine. i also have a human guy OC thats a mechanist and in him i want to explore about undiagnosed neurodivergence in a world like Fallout.

and and my favorite so far but i cant even know if she fits is a First-Gen supermutant OC thats (again) a mechanist and a crafter! shes Olivia. she makes and fixes supermutants' armor, in fact decorated her own armor hehehe. though of course she doesnt make every armor for supermutants, she came from my question of where the hell do supermutants get their armor? like of course they won't use humans' armor, thats way too tiny. then again they have to get the right resources for an armor thats actually an armor, like whats the matter in putting materials that will be just like dressing with cardboards? but besides that, she also makes other stuff that are like, common day-to-day stuff, but, for supermutants! i mean like, stuff like humans may use and if supermutants may use too, she makes it to be more accesible to supermutants, and she does so because of the feeling of community between eachother, like she cares for them and wants to help. i still feel like she may not fit within supermutants a lot though (i have the need to make OCs as accurate as possible based in the world they are in). but i guess thats whats fun is about. oh and also, i made her because man we need more female supermutants!!! for a bit of backstory, as i said shes a First-Gen supermutant meaning that she comes from The Unity, shes like one of the people that came from one of the Vaults. i still work on what her opinion is about being transformed in a supermutant... if she finds it better or not. anyway. after The Master goes kaboom along The Cathedral and Mariposa Base, she as other supermutants wandered around The Wasteland until finding Broken Hills in where she finds she likes crafting stuff besides armor. She worked as a miner there. Then basically she follows Marcus with the other supermutants until settling in Jacobstown. Also I don't know if this stupid and nonsensical but like remember Tabitha's wig? So uh yeah do you know Olivia also likes scavenging around places to find the resources for her crafts, and also along the way bring resources for her community. what if she finds a wig and some heartshapped and gives it to Tabitha, as a gift yes. im sorry for bringing Canon + Non canon interaction.... she is quite saddened by what happened in Black Mountain. if she could she would have take Neil's place to look out for the place but shes busy with her own stuff. also shes close friend with Lily Bowen hehehe and lets her ramble about her grandkids (again. heh. get it?)

Uh well i think i said enough already. that was all bye bye!

[maccreadysbaby]

My Masterpost 🥳

hello! my name is maccreadysbaby! i’m a multifandom fanfic and original content writer here on tumblr and (sometimes) on wattpad @/highschoolgirl97. you may have found me through writing tips, fanfictions, fo4 character reactions, or just general crack posting, but I’m glad you’re here! :)

please, check me out! ↴

my old masterlist was getting full and boring, and as i’m shifting away from character reactions/fo4 content and more into original/fanfic content, i decided my list needed an update. HERE IS MY STILL INTACT OLD MASTERLIST WITH ALL OF MY FO4, DESTINY, COD, AND ORIGINAL CONTENT. (IT WILL STILL BE UPDATED AS I DO SMALLER MULTIFANDOM WRITINGS.)

⚠️ I STILL TAKE REQUESTS FOR THE FOLLOWING FANDOMS (list is subject to change):

- Batfam - Detroit: Become Human - Fallout 4 - Fire Emblem: Three Houses - Voltron

BELOW IS MY CURRENT LIST (WITH LINKS!) OF ORIGINALS AND FICS I WRITE HERE ON TUMBLR!

✍︎ The Hundred Days Series (ongoing): a batfam fanfiction series starring my most popular oc ever, bentley whittaker, as he deals with his insanely crazy life that may or may not include batman.

➤ A Hundred Days to Become a Wayne (Book One!) ➤ A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne (Book Two!) ➤ Project: Killcode (Book Three!) ➤ House of Wolves (Book four!)

✍︎ Operation: Utraviolet (ongoing): an alex rider fanfiction with an additional oc where they both (begrudgingly) save the world

✍︎ Before Us (on hold): a fallout 4 maccready x oc fic, starring a female non-sole fo4 oc, with nate as the sole survivor (railroad ending)

✍︎ Crash and Burn (on hold): a fallout 4 preston garvey x oc fic, starring a non-sole female oc, with nate as the sole survivor. (minuteman ending)

✍︎ Killer Instinct (on hold): a lord of the rings tenth walker / boromir lives / boromir x fem!oc fic

✍︎ The Big Leagues (on hold): a fo4 multi-companion work journeying through each of their respective backstories — each chapter can be read as a standalone

➤ ALL OF MY ONESHOTS, REQUESTS, AND SMALLER WRITINGS (HEADCANONS, DRABBLES, ETC) CAN BE FOUND HERE, LISTED OUT BY CHARACTER AND FANDOM.

➤ ALL OF MY WRITING TIP POSTS CAN BE FOUND HERE.

➤ MY HUNGER GAMES FANFICTION (ONLY RAVENS FLY) CAN BE FOUND ON MY WATTPAD ACCOUNT, BY SEARCHING THE USERNAME IN THE DESCRIPTION AT THE TOP OF THIS POST, OR BY SEARCHING “ONLY RAVENS FLY” ON THE WATTPAD WEBSITE

THANK YOU FOR CHECKING ME OUT!

[thatspeciallad]

Just started drawing again, and I'm already falling behind. Now, it's obvious I mainly draw OC's, but I wonder which games I should go for before I start drawing whatever comes to mind.

I also have asks open, and read comments, so I will look at those if I get any. Though there is possibly a chance I procrastinate more because I need to work on character design.