#its just the presentation and description makes me question things

[nefelegies]

IMPORTANT ROUNDUP: asks, statistics, "good science", and "the follow up video". i would really appreciate if you gave me your attention span for this one.

an update i gave on youtube that i don't know if people here saw: i may be doing a follow up after all now that i'm slightly less freaked, because my data was way too much of a mess and i would feel guilty if people began taking it and running with it while unaware of the informality and weakness of my study. i am potentially working with some people on discord to do a pedantically objective demographic study that will help clear the air but it will take some time to come out. the sampling methods and the questions being asked are very different, but/as such, the percentages that are coming out of that one are admittedly less bleak; this is of course a good thing! i am not a defeatist i am not blackpill or whatever i WANT things to not suck. i very badly want them to not suck. this new study (at least in its current stage) is more about objective demographic measures and not necessarily the far more subjective or qualitative or "investment gauging" measures i considered in my original; although i believe strongly that these measures matter, i don't know if any metrics i originally considered can give an accurate picture. i guess in a way i wish i had either taken way more time on the data gathered, engaged with it differently, or presented the video solely as a matter of opinion, but i felt that no amount of talk piece would get me taken seriously. to be clear: all the data presented is the data i collected. the data i collected was collected in the exact way described by the video. i just am not sure that my methods produced results i may "responsibly" draw conclusions about, especially when people start taking them as gospel (guys please i tried to disclaimer not to do this....).

regardless of whether you agree with my rhetoric (and i of course agree with my own rhetoric), the truth of science is that research conducted with the intent of proving a truth the author is already convinced of (see: anything published by BYU about you know. lol.) is not good research. again, even if intentions are pure and that truth was held to be objective, setting out to prove it would be contrary to the philosophy of science and "good practice". even if these things are abstract to you, they do matter greatly to me, as this is my career path, and if i knew when i started that i'd hit 100k and not like. 500 people total, i wouldn't have taken the tongue-in-cheek approach i did.

i worried about whether or not it is irresponsible to leave the video up in its current form but i am also worried that with its current spread, any move on my part to take it down would see it reuploaded by someone else, at which point i would be powerless to provide disclaimers such as these. so it remains up, but with some added context like this in the description, and comments are still disabled to try and .... slow down the spread. i guess.

all that being said: as i will likely mention in my follow up, the inability to objectively measure "who cares about what characters" does not change the reality so many people have come to me to talk about. i don't know yet if i'll compile for the video the legitimately HUNDREDS of testimonies of people telling me they've been noticing this attitude in artist circles for years, but it will be trivial to do so if i want. even if these things resist the clear quantification i would like to be able to provide (i've always been a literal thinker), the impact on countless artists' and creatives' lived experiences is undeniable. there is also something ironic about the fact that, in making a video claiming the community secretly harbored misogyny, i have been targeted by all manner of explicitly misogynistic and homophobic harassment. i wonder if the video may have been received differently if i had clarified that i am dysphoric, or that i use any pronouns, or if i had made my cishet brother do my voiceover.

i don't really know where i'm going, this got meandering. i guess what i mean to say with all of this is: i am grateful to everyone who has felt touched or even vindicated by my video; i am grateful to everyone who has approached the topic with deep self reflection; i am grateful to everyone that has reached out with a newfound commitment to be the change. i stand by every opinion presented in my video and maybe one day i will make a pure opinion piece on this same topic where i really try and grapple with "why". i just wish i had been more careful to shove messy numbers into the world i suppose.

also, about asks:

good lord there is Many Asks. um. like Many A Lot. i don't know if i should reply to them individually publicly because this is meant to be an art account and presumably none of you want your dashboards flooded with them but i also don't know if people would be underwhelmed to receive private replies????? i considered grouping at least all the positive asks into one big post but i didn't want that to come off as dismissive(?). i hope everyone knows i have been reading them as they arrive but i just. it's a weird time for me right now mentally and i somehow picked the busiest irl period of my life to instigate all of this and the idea of how long it will take to actually reply to everyone is becoming a looming threat.

thank you to everyone that actually read all this. p.s. someone made a really thoughtful response that you should watch--it's in spanish but has english subs.

[something-wrong-with-us]

One weird thing that I noticed a couple times is when giving Mycroft/John/Sherlock or a story with both Mycroft/John and Sherlock/John recs (which in this specific case is either a threesome where they focus on John, or they date him separately with little overlap and there's angst about it) the reviewer will say the fic contains Holmescest (mostly describing it in this very scandalous way) and it just... does not.

And I don't mean there was false advertising, I believe the person themselves fully believes the story does contain Holmescest, but it just... doesn't. And I will read it several times because maybe I just missed it, because where is the scandalous thing they are freaking out about?

And it can't be just the close proximity in a sexual context with a third person implies some sort of grey area by itself, because that would then mean *all* Myjohnlock fics are that way and they singled those specific ones out and put up that disclaimer for a reason (maybe it's that the author themselves used the Holmescest relationship tag?).

But then the actual fic has no sexual or romantic interaction between them. Sometimes it's zero contact and sometimes... okay I will try to describe this one example.

So one of them actually means to touch John but accidentally touches his brother's hand instead and it's treated as this big moment where he hesitates and then decides to leave the hand there.

And I am like... they are... touching hands. Yes it's in a sexual context, but I think on the scale of things doing sexual things with your naked brother nearby and seeing him at his most vulnerable beats accidental hand touching.

I would classify that as mild incestuous vibes, not "I will suffer eternal damnation for witnessing" it kind of deal.

[honey-pages]

Learn your Lesson - Viktor x Reader

Description -

After an intense lecture, Viktor invites you to his study where he ensures you learn your lesson.

2.7k words

F/M. 18+. Smut. NSFW. Sex. Teacher/Student. Riding.

@kskajjwiqqj

Viktor was nothing like the other professors that you had met. He was younger, known by his first name, and was quite clearly very attractive. You had been invited along to a skills class with the rest of your department and any interested outliers. Viktor was the reason you attended. You aspired to impress him, to become his student. There were always rumours circulating, however with Viktor, the only thing you had heard was how impenetrably private he was.

His back was to you as he wrote on the board in chalk. It was strange seeing someone in the position he was at such a comparable age to yourself. You did not even want to consider how old professor Heimerdinger was. The way he looked standing there authoritatively in his everyday suit was immaculate. It was taking your attention away from his teaching.

“The principles of Hextech's functions are fundamentally rooted in our understanding of magic's interactions with our reality. The volatile nature of unrefined hex crystals stems from this. Magic in and of itself cannot be quantified with precision, only comparatively by constants. “

He was presenting half to himself as the majority of the room looked out of their depth. He stopped asking call and response questions a while ago as he had no responses. Now he was picking on people.

“So, why is it an impossibility for magic to be married to our understanding of, say, gravity? “

No one makes to answer the question. You wait for a few seconds as he looks quite disheartened. He sweeps over the room. Silence. He locks eyes with you. The questions weren’t essentially that difficult, they were just to register attention. Most of the things he asked were things he had previously mentioned or things that were graspable by taking the things he had taught and applying its logic.

You put forward an answer, “It is impossible to apply something which lacks numerical quantification to a concept as characterised by numbers as gravity. You'd end up with too many unknowns. The best you could manage is to average those constants, which is not precise enough when working with hextech “

“Close! It is certainly a challenge, although not impossible, to determine properties of a gravity field under magical influence, in precisely the manner you have described. However, more fundamentally, the issue lies in the fact that the gravitational constant is a dimensional property defined by distance and mass, while any magical constant lacks such constraints. But very very good thoughts Miss (Y/N).”

He knew your name. As he responded to you, he did a double take, watching you. You caught him scanning your whole person, losing his train of thought for a second. He smirks before catching the thought he had just lost. It was quite noticeable, the effect you had just had over him, and you were almost certain that it wasn’t just because you were the only one answering questions. Maybe the times you had thought he was being personable were something more?

He was finishing up his teaching, but still whenever he referenced something you had put forward or said something particularly related to your thoughts, he looked at you.

“We've discussed today a number of approaches to applying magical principles in our limited understanding of physical laws. The crux of what makes this application an impossibility is as follows: A dimensionless constant cannot define a dimensional property. “

He addresses you, “With all the answers you have given, Miss (Y/N), I perhaps should invite you to speak with me privately afterwards.”

As he calls over to you, you realise the invitation he has just extended to you may not be one of a regular professor. Students are beginning to pack up and filter out of the hall, noise levels rise. Your seat on the first row, closest to Viktor, enables you to be one of the first out of your seat. Your courage feels disembodied and far from you now as you face him without the defence of the group setting.

“I’d like that. When are you free?” You ask, smiling and holding his gaze. It feels more difficult at close distance to deal with his focus, like the sun being beamed through a magnifying glass.

“Come to my study.” He suggests.

He collects his jacket from the back of the chair, folding up papers and books from the lectern and placing them into his bag. He holds back a little longer, waiting for the last of the students to have left the theatre. The room feels much smaller now you are alone together.

“I am serious about your potential, Miss (Y/N). I think with some support you could do great things.”

You flatter, “If I had a teacher such as yourself Viktor, I would already be doing great things.”

“You look beautiful today.”

You fluster, it was unexpected. You stumble.

“Flattery doesn’t work on either of us.”

“I’m serious Viktor, take me on as your student.”

He pauses.

“What was my final point in today’s lecture Miss (Y/N).”

Your mind was blank. Not strictly due to a lack of memory, focus or attention as you can guarantee to certainty that your attention was on Viktor, but due to how completely attracted you are to him. As time passes, his gaze becomes more confident. He knows he has you where he wants you.

“A dimensionless constant cannot define a dimensional property.” He reiterates. “It is no issue that you have forgotten. I have identified exactly where to begin tonight’s lesson.”

You walk with Viktor through the corridors and leading passages to his study. It is an interesting place in an interesting building. It is decorated beautifully, with full bookcases and large empty boards scrawled with workings. It is a small place that looks well used and lived in, as though it were an external reflection of his internal musings.

“Make yourself at home.” He insists.

You place down your belongings in one corner, neatly out of the way of any space Viktor might need. He sits down in a chair in the corner opposite to the one you stand in, and ushers you to sit in the respective seat. Although you are diagonally placed, the smallness of the room almost presses the caps of your knees together. It is cosy and feels like a special place to be invited to.

“I do not usually invite people here, even if they are prospective students.”

You smile, not knowing quite what to reply to show gratitude, humility and not betray the all-consuming attraction you have towards him. Ever since he said you looked beautiful, any hextech knowledge you may have unlocked had been jumbled and rearranged to make some sexual collage.

“I meant it” He states.

“What?”

“You look beautiful today”

You try to play it off cooly how much that compliment meant to you. “I thought we had agreed not to flatter.”

“I wanted to be clear. I didn’t just say it because I wanted to compliment you. I said it because I meant it (Y/N).”

You freeze up again. Your pulse began to be audible through your ears and your blood ran hot.

“You look flustered.” He recognises, sitting forward.

He reaches out a hand to touch your knee. He looks concerned. He doubts the appropriateness of his actions for a second before reassessing. You are both adults, he has no direct power over you, you are both consenting to being here. Then why did this feel so strange. It felt dream like to him. He had fantasised about you for so long, had stalked your progress in your studies. He had seen potential in you from the moment you were accepted through intake, in fact he made the decision.

You sit up too at his touch. In doing so, you shifted in your chair, your legs widened slightly. Due to the change in position, his hand now sits significantly higher up your thigh. A happy accident. Viktor understands why you are so nervous. He is also aware as to the position he now has you in. In his office, in his chair, with his hand on your thigh.

He tries to make you more comfortable, “Let’s take this back to hextech. Ah yes, perfect, what was the last thing I mentioned in today’s lecture?”

You stared absolutely blankly. Every time you had begun to think real words, Viktor had knocked you back ten steps. Now you were at square one again. You tried to recall the words, but they were fuzzy and blurry and so far out of your reach.

“Viktor, I’m sorry, I can’t remember.” You plead.

“Come on, Miss (Y/N), with your answers earlier we both know what you are capable of.”

“My brain feels foggy. I think I am misremembering.”

“An educated guess is the first big step.”

Throughout the conversation, the intensity of eye contact and body language meant that neither of you had realised that Viktor’s hand now held dangerously highly on your upper thigh. He looked down at his hand on you. It had not felt like he had moved it that far up. You realised that you had gradually been spreading your legs further apart. Gravitating towards one another. Everything leading to one eventual outcome. This was all the confirmation that was needed.

“Come here” He asks, smoothly.

You hesitate, blushing.

He pats his lap, sinking back into his chair. “A good student does what they are told.”

You hesitated not only due to feeling intimidated, but that you were not wearing any underwear. To make it more noticeable to him, you were also wearing a skirt. Of all the days to be sitting on Viktor’s lap, today had to be the one. You climb up onto his lap, sitting side saddle, keeping your knees together.

“So rigid. Where was this posture when you were just spreading your legs?”

“It’s not that Viktor, its- “Your voice trails off.

His hands find themselves around your waist and hips, feeling and calculating, building and rendering what you must look like underneath. His touch is comforting, his hands are hot and hungry. You want to give yourself to him, allow yourself to be devoured.

“I’m not wearing underwear.”

Viktor’s hands stop moving momentarily.

“Is there a reason you came to my lecture without them?”

You don’t answer. You shift more comfortably into his lap, directly onto his crotch. He is satisfied without an answer. He decides that if the outcome of your studies today was to catch him, he was very much in your reach. As you shift in your seat, his hips jolt forward, grinding up into you. It is uncontrollable for him.

“Open them for me Miss (Y/N).” He continues

Viktor guides your hips to move you to straddle him, shifting your legs apart. He watches your movements, eyes focused on you. He raises his hand to his mouth, placing in two fingers, coating them with saliva, before pressing them to you. He slides them over your clit and then down to your entrance. You are already slick with wetness, mainly from the anticipation and mental chess he was playing with you.

“So wet for me already.” His voice is silk. “What a prepared student you are.”

You uncontrollably push forward against his fingers, increasing the pressure against yourself. You moan out accidentally.

“Beautiful” He watches, “And if I place them here, then what noise will you make”

He flicks his fingers over your clit, hovering them over your entrance.

“Please.”

“What was the last thing I said in today lecture Miss (Y/N).”

Your chances of remembering were zero even though he had repeated himself. You really had no excuse for not remembering but it was so impossibly difficult now. You rut against the tips, desperate.

“Viktor, I’ve forgotten again.”

“Such a shame, you seemed so attentive. You will learn and progress, you just need encouragement.”

He unbuttons and unzips his trousers, angling upwards to pull them under his hips and down his thighs to his knees. As his underwear comes away, he springs free. He is exactly as you expected. Seeing him explicitly feels like a sin in itself. With both hands on your hips, he shuffles you forwards to be directly positioned above his waist.

“Information recall is important Miss (Y/N).’ He states. “Repeat after me.”

“Yes.”

He spells the words out slowly. “A dimensionless constant cannot define a dimensional property.”

The words are alien to you, meaningless now. You try to remember, there are two long ‘D’ words, two alliterative ‘C’s. The second he says it, it’s gone from your head again.

“Your turn”

“A dimensionless… cannot contain... dimension” You know it is incorrect even as you say it.

He grins, watching you unfold under the pressure. He begins to stroke himself slowly. You may as well be dripping on him. He lifts your shirt and unbuttons your bra.

“I can do it” You insist.

He removes the shirt and bra, exposing you before him.

“Dimensionless constants contain… no, define…”

He is quickening his pace, pleasuring himself with speed to the vision of you in front of him, stumbling over words he has fed you. So desperate to impress him.

“Viktor, please can you say it again.”

“A dimensionless constant cannot define a dimensional property” He moans and signs as he speaks. Punctuating the words as they fall out of his mouth. He aligns you with him as he prepares for your repetition.

You reply quickly while it is fresh in your brain, “A dimensionless constant cannot define a dimensional property”

He slams quickly upwards and inside of you, stretching you around him. You scream out his name. He doesn’t stop moving, furiously thrusting and thrusting and thrusting. He gets deeper as you sink down on him.

“Again, Miss (Y/N)”

“A dimensionless constant cannot define a dimensional property”

There is no slowing Viktor down and you hold onto the chair for balance. He has both hands gripping either thigh and his face is warped in concentration and pleasure. His fingers are gripping firmly and roughly.

“I am going to fill you Miss (Y/N).” He commands, “So deeply that you will feel me inside of you until your next lecture.”

“Please Viktor- “

You are filling the study with swearing and ecstatic cries. It isn’t soundproof, Viktor knows that well enough in hearing conversations outside of his door. He wonders how they will react to him holding you down on his cock as he finishes, the sounds you will make. Whether people will hear his name, will recognise you as the prospective student who seduced him and got fucked consequently.

He has slowed his pace slightly, using his hand to rub your clit. You feel yourself building, unravelling. He feels you internally tense around him, gripping his cock and pulsating around it. You will finish imminently.

“I’m going to- “you pant. “Your fingers will- “

“Do it, (Y/N).” He is near his end too, “For me. Show me how badly you want it. Give me no choice but to undo you.”

He speeds up his fingers, forcing you through a powerful orgasm.

“Viktor- “You scream out.

You are shaking, quivering but he doesn’t stop. He removes his hand and buries it into your hair, tilting your head back, pulling you downwards as he pushes upwards.

“Take it” He demands, “My perfect student. Look at you - a whore.”

With these words, he firmly grabs you and holds you still, as deeply as you can manage. He feels himself twitch and spasm, coating your insides with his thick load. He begins to thrust a few more times to feel the wet slapping noise that he has reduced you to. He is at a loss of breath, a loss of words.

You collapse onto his chest, folding into his arms. It feels good being held there as your heart rates begin to settle themselves. There is something pure and honest about the way you both interlock after such an extreme session. He smooths your hair back, kissing you across the face, planting thoughtful kisses on your forehead. He sinks deeply into the chair, as you sink deeply into him. Together you fall into a tired, lazy nap.

Tag List - @gubkkki, @veru-boom

[derinwrites]

The Three Commandments

The thing about writing is this: you gotta start in medias res, to hook your readers with action immediately. But readers aren’t invested in people they know nothing about, so start with a framing scene that instead describes the characters and the stakes. But those scenes are boring, so cut straight to the action, after opening with a clever quip, but open in the style of the story, and try not to be too clever in the opener, it looks tacky. One shouldn’t use too many dialogue tags, it’s distracting; but you can use ‘said’ a lot, because ‘said’ is invisible, but don’t use ‘said’ too much because it’s boring and uninformative – make sure to vary your dialogue tags to be as descriptive as possible, except don’t do that because it’s distracting, and instead rely mostly on ‘said’ and only use others when you need them. But don’t use ‘said’ too often; you should avoid dialogue tags as much as you possibly can and indicate speakers through describing their reactions. But don’t do that, it’s distracting.

Having a viewpoint character describe themselves is amateurish, so avoid that. But also be sure to describe your viewpoint character so that the reader can picture them. And include a lot of introspection, so we can see their mindset, but don’t include too much introspection, because it’s boring and takes away from the action and really bogs down the story, but also remember to include plenty of introspection so your character doesn’t feel like a robot. And adverbs are great action descriptors; you should have a lot of them, but don’t use a lot of adverbs; they’re amateurish and bog down the story. And

The reason new writers are bombarded with so much outright contradictory writing advice is that these tips are conditional. It depends on your style, your genre, your audience, your level of skill, and what problems in your writing you’re trying to fix. Which is why, when I’m writing, I tend to focus on what I call my Three Commandments of Writing. These are the overall rules; before accepting any writing advice, I check whether it reinforces one of these rules or not. If not, I ditch it.

1: Thou Shalt Have Something To Say

What’s your book about?

I don’t mean, describe to me the plot. I mean, why should anybody read this? What’s its thesis? What’s its reason for existence, from the reader’s perspective? People write stories for all kinds of reasons, but things like ‘I just wanted to get it out of my head’ are meaningless from a reader perspective. The greatest piece of writing advice I ever received was you putting words on a page does not obligate anybody to read them. So why are the words there? What point are you trying to make?

The purpose of your story can vary wildly. Usually, you’ll be exploring some kind of thesis, especially if you write genre fiction. Curse Words, for example, is an exploration of self-perpetuating power structures and how aiming for short-term stability and safety can cause long-term problems, as well as the responsibilities of an agitator when seeking to do the necessary work of dismantling those power structures. Most of the things in Curse Words eventually fold back into exploring this question. Alternately, you might just have a really cool idea for a society or alien species or something and want to show it off (note: it can be VERY VERY HARD to carry a story on a ‘cool original concept’ by itself. You think your sky society where they fly above the clouds and have no rainfall and have to harvest water from the clouds below is a cool enough idea to carry a story: You’re almost certainly wrong. These cool concept stories work best when they are either very short, or working in conjunction with exploring a theme). You might be writing a mystery series where each story is a standalone mystery and the point is to present a puzzle and solve a fun mystery each book. Maybe you’re just here to make the reader laugh, and will throw in anything you can find that’ll act as framing for better jokes. In some genres, readers know exactly what they want and have gotten it a hundred times before and want that story again but with different character names – maybe you’re writing one of those. (These stories are popular in romance, pulp fantasy, some action genres, and rather a lot of types of fanfiction).

Whatever the main point of your story is, you should know it by the time you finish the first draft, because you simply cannot write the second draft if you don’t know what the point of the story is. (If you write web serials and are publishing the first draft, you’ll need to figure it out a lot faster.)

Once you know what the point of your story is, you can assess all writing decisions through this lens – does this help or hurt the point of my story?

2: Thou Shalt Respect Thy Reader’s Investment

Readers invest a lot in a story. Sometimes it’s money, if they bought your book, but even if your story is free, they invest time, attention, and emotional investment. The vast majority of your job is making that investment worth it. There are two factors to this – lowering the investment, and increasing the payoff. If you can lower your audience’s suspension of disbelief through consistent characterisation, realistic (for your genre – this may deviate from real realism) worldbuilding, and appropriately foreshadowing and forewarning any unexpected rules of your world. You can lower the amount of effort or attention your audience need to put into getting into your story by writing in a clear manner, using an entertaining tone, and relying on cultural touchpoints they understand already instead of pushing them in the deep end into a completely unfamiliar situation. The lower their initial investment, the easier it is to make the payoff worth it.

Two important notes here: one, not all audiences view investment in the same way. Your average reader views time as a major investment, but readers of long fiction (epic fantasies, web serials, et cetera) often view length as part of the payoff. Brandon Sanderson fans don’t grab his latest book and think “Uuuugh, why does it have to be so looong!” Similarly, some people like being thrown in the deep end and having to put a lot of work into figuring out what the fuck is going on with no onboarding. This is one of science fiction’s main tactics for forcibly immersing you in a future world. So the valuation of what counts as too much investment varies drastically between readers.

Two, it’s not always the best idea to minimise the necessary investment at all costs. Generally, engagement with art asks something of us, and that’s part of the appeal. Minimum-effort books do have their appeal and their place, in the same way that idle games or repetitive sitcoms have their appeal and their place, but the memorable stories, the ones that have staying power and provide real value, are the ones that ask something of the reader. If they’re not investing anything, they have no incentive to engage, and you’re just filling in time. This commandment does not exist to tell you to try to ask nothing of your audience – you should be asking something of your audience. It exists to tell you to respect that investment. Know what you’re asking of your audience, and make sure that the ask is less than the payoff.

The other way to respect the investment is of course to focus on a great payoff. Make those characters socially fascinating, make that sacrifice emotionally rending, make the answer to that mystery intellectually fulfilling. If you can make the investment worth it, they’ll enjoy your story. And if you consistently make their investment worth it, you build trust, and they’ll be willing to invest more next time, which means you can ask more of them and give them an even better payoff. Audience trust is a very precious currency and this is how you build it – be worth their time.

But how do you know what your audience does and doesn’t consider an onerous investment? And how do you know what kinds of payoff they’ll find rewarding? Easy – they self-sort. Part of your job is telling your audience what to expect from you as soon as you can, so that if it’s not for them, they’ll leave, and if it is, they’ll invest and appreciate the return. (“Oh but I want as many people reading my story as possible!” No, you don’t. If you want that, you can write paint-by-numbers common denominator mass appeal fic. What you want is the audience who will enjoy your story; everyone else is a waste of time, and is in fact, detrimental to your success, because if they don’t like your story then they’re likely to be bad marketing. You want these people to bounce off and leave before you disappoint them. Don’t try to trick them into staying around.) Your audience should know, very early on, what kind of an experience they’re in for, what the tone will be, the genre and character(s) they’re going to follow, that sort of thing. The first couple of chapters of Time to Orbit: Unknown, for example, are a micro-example of the sorts of mysteries that Aspen will be dealing with for most of the book, as well as a sample of their character voice, the way they approach problems, and enough of their background, world and behaviour for the reader to decide if this sort of story is for them. We also start the story with some mildly graphic medical stuff, enough physics for the reader to determine the ‘hardness’ of the scifi, and about the level of physical risk that Aspen will be putting themselves at for most of the book. This is all important information for a reader to have.

If you are mindful of the investment your readers are making, mindful of the value of the payoff, and honest with them about both from the start so that they can decide whether the story is for them, you can respect their investment and make sure they have a good time.

3: Thou Shalt Not Make Thy World Less Interesting

This one’s really about payoff, but it’s important enough to be its own commandment. It relates primarily to twists, reveals, worldbuilding, and killing off storylines or characters. One mistake that I see new writers make all the time is that they tank the engagement of their story by introducing a cool fun twist that seems so awesome in the moment and then… is a major letdown, because the implications make the world less interesting.

“It was all a dream” twists often fall into this trap. Contrary to popular opinion, I think these twists can be done extremely well. I’ve seen them done extremely well. The vast majority of the time, they’re very bad. They’re bad because they take an interesting world and make it boring. The same is true of poorly thought out, shocking character deaths – when you kill a character, you kill their potential, and if they’re a character worth killing in a high impact way then this is always a huge sacrifice on your part. Is it worth it? Will it make the story more interesting? Similarly, if your bad guy is going to get up and gloat ‘Aha, your quest was all planned by me, I was working in the shadows to get you to acquire the Mystery Object since I could not! You have fallen into my trap! Now give me the Mystery Object!’, is this a more interesting story than if the protagonist’s journey had actually been their own unmanipulated adventure? It makes your bad guy look clever and can be a cool twist, but does it mean that all those times your protagonist escaped the bad guy’s men by the skin of his teeth, he was being allowed to escape? Are they retroactively less interesting now?

Whether these twists work or not will depend on how you’ve constructed the rest of your story. Do they make your world more or less interesting?

If you have the audience’s trust, it’s permissible to make your world temporarily less interesting. You can kill off the cool guy with the awesome plan, or make it so that the Chosen One wasn’t actually the Chosen One, or even have the main character wake up and find out it was all a dream, and let the reader marinate in disappointment for a little while before you pick it up again and turn things around so that actually, that twist does lead to a more interesting story! But you have to pick it up again. Don’t leave them with the version that’s less interesting than the story you tanked for the twist. The general slop of interest must trend upward, and your sacrifices need to all lead into the more interesting world. Otherwise, your readers will be disappointed, and their experience will be tainted.

Whenever I’m looking at a new piece of writing advice, I view it through these three rules. Is this plot still delivering on the book’s purpose, or have I gone off the rails somewhere and just stared writing random stuff? Does making this character ‘more relateable’ help or hinder that goal? Does this argument with the protagonists’ mother tell the reader anything or lead to any useful payoff; is it respectful of their time? Will starting in medias res give the audience an accurate view of the story and help them decide whether to invest? Does this big twist that challenges all the assumptions we’ve made so far imply a world that is more or less interesting than the world previously implied?

Hopefully these can help you, too.

[merakiui]

thing.

yandere!skully j. graves x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, fear/paranoia, brief mention and description of dead animals note - "he is there—and there again, but you cannot see him plain, for the shadow lies so darkly on the hill."

There is a bundle of black roses propped against your door. Thirteen of them, devoid of thorns, but the threat is still there—nestled within the petals, a foreboding symbolism.

A stupid Halloween prank, you think, gathering the roses and tossing them out.

Come tomorrow, there is a new bouquet waiting for you. These are white, but they have their thorns. A small card accompanies the gift. There’s a message printed in an old typewriter font: No good?

Like before, you discard these flowers. You have no time for secret admirers or daft nonsense.

So the roses stop blooming at your door, tied up with pretty twine and ribbons. Instead, you receive bones and carcasses. A mouse skull. Deer teeth. A mangled bird, its wings snapped and bent at the joints. A rabbit’s foot, warm and still bleeding, the bone jutting out from severed flesh. The roses, you think, were a preview of what was to come—of what you’d soon be mourning.

These macabre presents are wrapped sincerely, shrouded daintily with frilly cloth. They come with their own set of cards, each one typed just like before. 

I can see you.

Good luck on your exam today. Carry this rabbit’s foot with you and you shall know fortune.

This naughty bird is always cawing outside of your window. It wakes you up, so I silenced it for you. It is most beautiful in death, is it not?

Are you going to bring that friend of yours around again? I don’t quite like the scent they leave on your sheets. :(

So you share these morbid anecdotes with your friends over dinner. They don’t believe you.

“You’ve one persistent dog after you,” one of them remarks, eyeing the pictures with a curious, doubtful eye. “A real rotten mutt.”

“But I don’t have a dog,” you reply.

“Well, something’s coming home to you every night.”

“It’s just me. I live alone.”

“Do you? You sure nothing’s following you? You don’t hear the jingle of a collar? The soft padding of paws on tile, loyally trailing after its owner?”

At the time, you thought these were foolish questions.

“The flowers? Definitely a person,” your logical friend suggests. “The dead stuff? Probably a wild animal. A hawk once dropped a mouse in my yard. It’s normal. Someone’s just making a nasty time out of it, leaving those notes to scare you.”

That sounds reasonable. You choose to believe it even when there are inconsistencies and clues that prove otherwise.

You check the locks on your doors and windows. You consider buying cameras, but maybe that’s misplaced paranoia. No one’s inside your house. No person or thing could possibly get in. You’re not sure what would be worse: a tangible human being with human hair, human eyes, and human teeth, or a thing. A thing with claws and a razored maw. A thing with inhuman strength and the eerie quietness of a phantom, plucked right from your nightmares and dropped in reality.

A human being is tangible. A thing could be anything. It could also be nothing.

“I’m not interesting enough to have a stalker,” you tell your logical friend. “Not special enough or rich enough. Not attractive enough.”

“You don’t have to be,” they tell you. “Sometimes all you need to be is alone and vulnerable. Sometimes all you need to do is exist so that they have something to latch onto—something they can covet no matter what.”

“Do you think they’ll kill me?” you ask next, hesitating around that word. Kill. It’s so final and exact. “If they can do such gruesome things to those animals…”

“Or it could be a dog. Dogs don’t kill their owners. They’re loyal.”

“But it’s not a dog. I don’t even think this thing is domesticated.”

“Then what is it?”

“Something.”

It is something malevolent. It is something malicious. It is something you can’t quite fathom—something you can’t picture in your mind because it is always swapping shapes. One minute it’s a nest of mice dwelling within your walls. The next it’s a shadow creature—a demon or a monster. The next it’s a human with strange proportions, too-long legs and too-long arms and a too-long torso. The next it’s a dog with a long, long snout and very human eyes, with human hands for paws, with a curling smile that reveals gaps in its pointed, bloody maw. It feasts on flesh and hunts little, defenseless songbirds, and it’s after you because it wants something you can’t give it.

What does it want? Is this thing even real? Perhaps the anxiety is making a monster out of nothing.

You twist and turn in the dark, wrapped up in sheets that feel more itchy than they do comforting. You’re cold all over, sweating an ocean in your bed. You think your heart might burst out of your chest at any minute. Every creak and groan of the house unsettles nerves that are already pulled impossibly taut. You gaze into the dark doorway, squinting through shadows that look like they’re waltzing in and out of focus.

Or…

Is the door breathing? Is someone there?

You rub your eyes and relief filters in. There’s nothing.

Or…

Your phone cuts a slice of light through your bedroom. You shine it towards the door from where you cower on your bed. There’s nothing.

Your friend—the unfunny one—texts you then, and the vibration scares you more than your imagination. A text is tangible, easily categorized, and yet it’s the scariest thing you’ve just received at this moment, however ghoulishly playful it may be.

u need a leash for ur dog?

You drop your phone. It illuminates the space beneath your bed for a second before the screen shuts off.

You think you hear someone breathing or a heart beating. It’s yours.

Or…

Swallowing thickly, you reach for your phone. You feel soft, fluffy hair. At first, you think it really is a dog when a warm, wet tongue laves over your palm. But you don’t have a dog, and it’s then when you feel the rest of this…thing. Human ears. Human nose. Human mouth. Human teeth. 

Another text brightens your phone. The screen flickers on.

You peek over the edge of your mattress to find a distinctly human face smiling back at you.

might as well get a collar too yeah?

[archive-doll]

Oh, sweet neighbour.

Author Note: Finally free from this. I love it.

Johnny Mactavish x f!reader. He's your neighbour. You are his new god. First meeting.

18+ CW: the military, while not very detailed it's shit. you're pregnant, that's a warning on its own. please, tell me if I'm missing anything.

Have mercy on my grammar, English is not my first language. Enjoy.

MASTERLIST. NEXT

You were delighted the first time you understood you would have a new neighbour. The sign left in front of the old house has been hanging there since you arrived three months ago, moving with the weather. When the slight bump of your belly could easily be hidden with a larger sweater.

The nice contractor assigned to the wilderness of your county has been telling you about it when you visited your house, how you wouldn’t have any neighbours for now. It wasn’t exactly surprising; the North of Scotland is not really attractive to most people. The whole world is at least a two-hour drive, and the rain seems to never quite stop, and during the winter, electricity can go out under the strength of the wind.

So, when the nice older woman, Jenny, told you about this serious candidate who was interested in the old wooden home on the other edge of the field, you assumed it was another one, trying to find rest. And from what Jenny revealed to you, your hypothesis is rather truthful. A man older than you, who was just honourably discharged from the British Army, after being severely wounded.

Truly, she shouldn’t tell you any of it, as it is supposed to be confidential information, but who would you tell? The stray cat that slowly invades your porch? The cattle you saved from a cruel death? It reassured you, knowing this information. It was a new adventure starting, having a neighbour in this remote part of the country.  

The first time you saw the old truck, it almost made you laugh in amusement. A military man retired, driving the most vintage piece of metal you ever saw, still rolling. The dark green colour seems to turn to grey at the edge, the old thing making a noise close to a dying breath. You find it fitting, somewhat, with the description you have of him.

You are knee-deep into the renovation of your newly acquired stable. It isn’t as if your home is fully finished either, since you’re trying to do it all yourself. But it fills you with purpose, with a sense of belonging you had cruelly missed for the majority of your life, one that you yearned for so strongly it almost broke you before.  

A hammer in hand, and the humidity slithering into your rainboots, you watch with slight curiosity the man park on the other side of the river that crossed the field. You can not see anything remotely interesting from where you stand, only the silhouette of him, and quickly your attention goes back to the wall you had taken all the rotten planks out of, before sighing. Your shoulders hurt, and you know you should not do heavy work considering your current state, but it has to be done. You shift on your feet, and the features on your face change to a concentrated expression before your hand raises with a firm grip. You will go greet your new neighbour soon enough, but before that, you have work to do.  

The only time you finally found to go present yourself to this stranger was three days later. A plate filled with what you tried to be a warm apple pie; you take your time crossing the distance to their residence. You hesitated between the two of them for a long time, each of the houses had a charm you were weak too. But you decided on the old Cotswolds stone house, which is a type of habitat you typically find in England. The one you were now walking to has a wooden structure, one that makes you feel warmth, where you could drink warm chocolate inside. A beautiful house, you think.  

You take a breath, slightly anxious at the now-soon-to-be interaction, feeling your heart thumping in your chest. Question roams in your skull: Is it very smart to inform an adult man, trained to kill, that you lived alone, where no one would ever know if you were to be in danger?

Your hands shake slightly around the plate you’re holding on to, everything you were ever taught against your will, everything you sadly believe in, told you it was a bad idea. But you try, just for a moment, to cease the lessons you painfully learned that paralyse you with fear and press a foot on the first stair. The wooden creak beneath your weight, the roundness of your tummy now showing as it strained beneath your coat.  

Before you could even finish graving the steps leading to his front door, it was opening. Surprised at the motion and rather tired from the walk leading you there, your doe eyes find the hardness of a man being invaded in his privacy. It makes you waver momentarily, pregnant form stilling in its walk. The mop of hair on top of his face – rather charming, you must admit – is untidy, straying around until some dark curly strands fall on his forehead. Bright blue eyes that make your breath hitch before he analytically gazes at you in a matter of seconds. It’s rather disturbing to see the threatening presence of his disappear so vividly.

The tightness on him melts away, broad shoulders loosening as his wounded arm falls against his torso. The stance he had taken at the sound of you shift into something approachable, someone really, instead of the weapon he had been groomed to become.  

Your eyelashes flutter as he opens the door wider, taking a step on the porch, finally feeling as if the tight hold around your throat is loosening. You resume your movement and offer him a careful smile, slightly disturbed by the first sight of him that he showed you. Droplets of water fall from the edge of your hood as he approaches with firm steps, the hand not pressed into that medical scarf hold out for you to take.  

“’ello ma’am.” 

The polite and confused tone of his voice widens your smile, the gentlemanly manner putting you at ease as you accept his help, finally reaching the edge of the porch. From close, you’re quite admirative of his features, finding in his eyes a storm that seems a reflection of the sea. You do not say anything, not about the way his fingers are rough around your palm, digging there, and how his ring finger misses a knuckle.

“Hello, I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“Nae, nae, it’s a’right.” He stumbles on his words with a firm shake of his head, stopping your unnecessary apologies. “Didnae thought anyone would come see me.” 

“Well, I did. And I have an apple pie for you, too.” You reply with a smile, raising slightly the covered plate you were holding, which seems to pique his attention as his eyes flicker downward as if seeing it for the first time.  

Johnny, you quickly find, hushes you inside with a quickness in his tone that you think is worry, or maybe guilt for frightening you the first second you've seen him. You give a little laugh at his own expression of regret, waving a hand in the air to signify you don't mind.

The warmth of his home makes you sigh while he closes the door behind you, your eyes admiring the entryway quietly before he moves past you with a precision unsettling. In the last three minutes you’ve known him, you can see the military experience he has bleeding out from every one of his actions.  

Johnny had been ready to shoot at the intruder the second he sensed your presence. His residence here is only because the British Army made him leave. It was a consequence of betrayal, of disaster, of disarray. Never once, since he left Scotland at age sixteen, running away from the battlefield that was home, did he ever consider the possibility of coming back. But, since the only home he ever had abandoned him, the only other place he could settle on to go back to was here. The Royal Army dismissing him doesn't mean he doesn't have enemies anymore.

After years of sacrifices, weeks of torture, months of the sand and blood invading his senses, they forced him away. He did not even have the time to process it; in a coma for a month, caused by a bullet entering his skull. By some curse, he made it, though the scar hidden beneath his hair says a different story. He awakens in that room, the white lightning cutting through like a knife, unaware of anything, only for, five minutes later, a superior officer he had never seen before telling him he would never be able to come back.  

He never imagined that the neighbour Jenny told him about, would come here. Neither did he ever fantasise about how soft and gentle you would be. As he watches you, from the edge of his previously unused kitchen, microwaved dinner is all he has ever known – he is almost distraught by the sight of you.

The dark blue sweater you wear is shifting over your rounded belly each time you move slightly too far. The patch of flesh, strained there, almost feels like a hallucination. He doesn’t process any of the words escaping your lips, and really, he should be more attentive to them. But the warmth in your eyes and the lightness in your voice as you tell him of the surrounding areas, giving him intel on the closest threat around, are unfamiliar.  

It has been weeks since his discharge. Weeks of mandatory therapy established by the organisation he surrendered his life for. Of endless pain in his head, like fresh lava melting around his skull every minute of every day. Weeks of wandering aimlessly, a shell of who he once was, blown apart. Stripped away from his sole purpose in life, abducted from the only person he ever cared for since he took control of his life. Only for it all to cease, to be taken away from him. Every scar he had been the victim of over the years, over the last decade of his life, was nothing now that he was in exile. Banished from the only world he knows.  

And now, here you are. Standing in the house he bought for barely anything at all, and his mind becomes silent. He looks at you, the soft lines around your mouth as you speak to him, and everything - the past stops his restless assault. A miracle, mirage, it didn’t matter what you are. Of course, you are too perfect to be real. You, and that warm, handmade apple pie. You and your graceful hands, free of any burden in life. You, and the warmth of your soul, he is swallowed by each time you gaze his way.

Johnny is certain he must look completely unhinged, staring too hard from a few steps away. He knows he should interact with you, at least pretend to be normal as he did since he left the military base. But everything in you, every little thing that you are, renders him defenceless. From the comically large slippers he lends you, the curve of your plush thighs, to the way you simply stand there blissfully.  

Your voice takes him away from his quiet moment of salvation, and he tilts his chin down to find you closer, a piece of apple pie on a little plate he did not even know he owned.  

“You must be tired. I know comin’ all the way here isn’t easy.” 

You’re silently wondering how he drives here, with an injured arm, but don’t think on it too long. Looking at him under the light, you can almost sense his tiredness. It’s written all over his broad frame, even as he still tenses when he watches you, the harsh line of his jaw where beard starts to grow. The thunder growling in his eyes. You do not ask, do not even mention it, and settle the plate he keeps looking at on the island counter before, with a heavy sigh, sitting down. One hand comes on the valley of your back as the reprieve of the highchair lightens your troubles. 

“You alone here?” He mumbles after a moment, and you see when it comes, the crinkles around his eyes.  

There is a moment of silence, as your face hardens, once again pondering the dangerousness of it. Johnny, since you took your first step, never truly intended to hurt you. It was instinct back then, you can tell. It is still as he stays on the edge of the room, close enough to the window and the front door. The only position where he can see the other entry points and you at the same time. Even battered as he appeared to be, there is no way his training could ever be forgotten.  

“Can’t say I am.” You settle on with a hint of humour to defuse the slight tension growing in the room. 

You, peculiarly, find great pride in the way his face widens at your words, before his eyes shine, watching your hand tap on the baby bump you expose, his way. Your mouth twitches before the grin you’re trying to hide finally breaks free. It is like seeing the sun for the first time, as his broad shoulders tremble under his laugh, the sound radiant as the summer, his head tilting backwards.  

Johnny, you understand, is much like the stray animals you scour around the country. You must allow him time to judge you; to feel safe with you in his personal space and prove you would never ever hurt him. Amusingly, he reminds you of the bull you are trying to negotiate with the farmer a little further down the hill. All broad around, with an intimidating physique that leaves you breathless when he struts toward you. Who once offered food is rather fine with your presence. 

“Good one, bonnie.” He grumbles again with a chuckle, sitting down in front of you as you fill the second plate. “No one tae look after ya then?” 

“I came here so no one would.” You admit, eyes shifting down as you push the tine of your fork into the sweet apple. “Wanted a home for myself.” 

“Can understand tha'. Where ya come from then?” 

Your eyes glimmer, seeing him inhale the pie, slightly saddened by how starved he looks, groans of contentment leaving him with each bite. The decision is easy to make, even after the scare he gave you when he opened the door.

The loneliness seems to cling to him like a dead lover, like a curse that runs deep into his blood, carving his place into his bones. For a moment, he reminds you of a haunted house after the people who inhabited it died tragically, leaving only the shell of what it was before. You’ll come and offer him food. Make sure he eats, and do not let himself be swallowed by his grief. 

You let him interrogate you. He offers answers of his own in return, and while sometimes cryptic, you make do with them. For a man surely as closed as he, he already tells you enough, especially during your first meeting. The questions are relatively innocent, if you don’t think of the ramifications of it all. Why did you decide on coming to Scotland, why the house so far away from everything, Does any of your family come to visit you before – he's searching for information. But with every answer you offer him, not hiding that you came here for freedom and safety, you watch him soften around the edges. 

Your fingers stroking along your belly, you smile as you watch his face shift when he tells you all about Scotland, where you should go visit, or where to eat a good meal. With a firm tone, though, and a long stare, he informs you never to go alone by yourself, that he’ll be your guide if you wish for it. Maybe a comparison to a stray hoarding dog would have been more accurate than a bull, you decide, as you giggle.  

“Understood, Sir.” You mock with honest gratefulness, already feeling quite comfortable around him.   

There is a twitch on the corner of his eyes, a straightening flinch in his shoulders, and you immediately regret it, your eyes widening in worry as his hands curl on the kitchen island around his empty plate.

He shakes his head then, after a moment of watching, unruly curls ruggedly flowing around his face, you are not insensitive to, as he gargles a laugh. Soon, he breaks the cold air, and he tells you to at least raise your hand next time, and you giggle happily, giving him a nod in acceptance.

Well, your new neighbour might not be what you imagined, but he’s perfect as he is. Especially when he walks you back home, his hand out in offering, grasping at your fingers to help you cross the uneven ground of the field. 

@ archive-doll - all rights reserved. reposting or modifying, including translating or use on AI, is not permitted. original characters are not my own, but the stories and writing are.

line dividers by cafekitsune

[marikosfragrance]

BLUE LOCK X READER

"Can he pass the "Orange peel" test?"

Characters : Isagi Yoichi, Itoshi Sae, Karasu Tabito, Bachira Meguru

Content : A scenario in which you ask them for an orange and ask them to peel it for you— seeing how willing they are to do acts of services.

Disclaimer : Some of you readers may be sensitive, so prepare yourself for things you might not expect like harshness in some characters

SET : I set the scenario where you and the (character) have dated for 2 years, but kaiser is not healed. Sae might come off as cold, rin might seem detached or some other traits that you might deem as a red flag. So read at your own accord, taking this warning into consideration. I won't add a description of what type of personality reader is for everyone to feel welcome.

Note : I am glad ya'll enjoyed the previous scenarios, now let us explore more. Take it into consideration that when you guys send me requests or asks, you can freely set the setting to however you'd like, if you'd like it if it is set into a time where kaiser is healed, or sae and rin have opened up, which might take ages if done slowly. Or when isagi haven't met you so he isn't in love with you, and so on and so forth with other characters. Now enjoy.

Isagi Yoichi - he would

I am sure it doesn't come off as much of a surprise if someone like Isagi would do this act of affection. For him, it might even be natural— his way of showcasing how much he cares for you. If this was set at a time where you just started dating, he would feel flustered and might even mess up a bit, but for Isagi, this act would be a symbolism of how he is willing to do anything to minimize your workload as well as please you.

Yoy two are spending some time on the couch, intitially planning to watch tv, and not let any interruptions occur. However, you had a different plan in mind. Isagi was invested in the movie and glances at you from time to time to check your reactions. Until you asked for an orange, which draws his eyes to you— away from the tv now. You repeated your request as it sinks into his mind. He chuckles lightly— an apology exiting his mouth, from how he didnt hear you the first time.

You asked for an orange and he wouldn't even question it, just thinking you might be tired as he makes his way to the kitchen. After grabbing an orange, he walks towards you then stretches his hand out to give it to you, you didn't reach out for it and instead asked him to peel it. Isagi might feel confused at first but would happily do it, seeing this as a sign of affection rather than a workload.

(Isagi's part is short, because he does it no hesitation and no complaints)

Itoshi Sae - he would begrudgingly do it

The fact that you were able to handle him for 2 years, much less get into a relationship means he can see you in his future, or you managed to really convince him that you won't get in the way of his plans and goals. Which is amazing in its own way— since it might've took you years to get him convinced. So you might already be aware that he won't give in to such pointless acts of affection. But you tried it anyway, since he isn't really always present, so why not make the most of it?

You two were just sitting on his couch. Yes— his couch. You never brought up the idea of living together since Sae seems to really like his space. And even if he secretly wanted to, you can't see him telling you about it or bringing up the idea. You are watching TV, eyes darting to whatever he is working on— eyes meeting some soccer data stuff on his laptop which is rested on his lap. You waited for a while, and there he goes. Sae places his laptop on the center table as his body relaxes, leaning more on the back of the couch— looking at whatever you were watching.

You called out his name, followed by your requests— an orange. You can see him squinting his eyes a little at your odd request, since normally you would get it yourself, but with a sigh, he stands up and heads to the kitchen. He grabs an orange and goes back to you sitting on the couch, looking at him with anticipating eyes— the upcoming second request reluctantly but successfully leaving your mouth. "Can you peel it for me?" You ask.

"Why can't you peel it yourself?" Sae questions you. Despite him intentionally trying to not sound mean, he genuinely wants to know why— his question coming from a place of pure confusion rather than a harsh reply. You might just sigh to yourself, feeling upset and grab the orange to peel it yourself till he raises his hand— keeping you from taking the orange away. And with a big sigh, he decides to sit down and peel it. But the situation is confusing for him; why couldn't you peel it yourself? He questions himself. In the end, he peels it but instead of it coming from a place of care, his decision to peel it comes from a place of "obligation". He felt the need to peel it, since he sees it as something he "needs" to do rather than "want" to do.

(It would be a surprise that he would peel his orange for you. If he never was your boyfriend, he wouldn't see the need to do it, nor the care)

Karasu Tabito - he would

For Karasu, doing something as peeling an orange might be a natural thing for him, he sees it both as something he needs and also wants to do. How he would do stuff for his partner is a sign of genuine care and affection, rather than pure obligation.

The room was quite dark. The curtains closed— the only source of light is emitted from the tv. Both you and Karasu are having a movie night, and the atmosphere was peaceful and quiet. You didn't want bother him with this, but you wanted to try it out on him; though you have a rough idea of how he might respond.

You asked for an orange, and he looks at you with his eyebrows raised, and no question— he stands up and goes to the kitchen to grab one for you. You looked at him with a smile, perhaps already knowing this is how he'd respond. And he sits back on the couch, handing it to you. He notices your silence, and has an idea on what would come next. And thus, he pulled back his outstretched hand, already peeling the orange before you could open your mouth and ask which surprised you. After he peeled it, he gave it to you as if it was the most normal thing to do, and at that moment you are reminded of why you chose to be with him— eating the orange with a small smile.

(I feel like if you really mattered to him so much, he would literally read your mind. He is smart after all, he can read body languages)

Bachira Meguru - he would be more than happy to

For Bachira, this act of peeling an orange for someone is a natural act of love. He would see it as a natural thing to do and he'd do it, no complaints. If he hands you the orange, he might even ask you if you want him to peel it, wanting to please you with acts of services.

You could be spending some time together in the living room, watching a movie. Bachira would feel more excited about spending time with you rather than the Movie. Might even let you pick the movie, and if you want him to watch something in particular, he would watch and comment on each scenes, would gladly let you talk too and explain to him about stuff regarding the movie. He would switch from looking at the movie, then to you, then the movie then to you, having fun with the feeling of watching something with another person, which is quite different to what he is usually used to.

Now if you asked him for an orange, he would no doubt say "okay!" And immediately do your request. He wouldn't see it as something to complain about, but rather it is something that he wants to do for you since to him, you are special. It wouldn't take long for the orange to arrive, and he gives it to you, and to your surprise, he would even ask to peel it for you.

It makes you smile how you don't need to voice out your needs since he already does the things you want him to do without needing you to voice it out.

( I see Bachira as one of those types that will feel the need to make themselves feel needed by their partner in some way, especially if he views his partner as someone he doesn't deserve, or a person that cures him of his loneliness)

__________________________________

Hope everyone enjoys this scenario! Had fun making it, but had a hard time a little bit from portraying their characters while still staying true to their personalities.

[noirscript]

domestic bliss

Pairing: Nicholas Sterling III x reader Description: Seven months pregnant with Nicholas’ child, you should feel safe—but the walls are too close, the air too thick, and the doors never quite open. This is normal. This is love. But you know better. Warning/s: Yandere. That's it. Note: Another commission for @violetvase ! Thank you so much for your support. I hope you enjoy this! Parts: ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

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The slow murmur of a saxophone spills from the gramophone in the corner, weaving itself between the soft clatter of silverware against the finest china you’ve ever touched. The weight of the utensils feels foreign in your grasp, as if they belong to someone else, someone meant to sit at this table without the quiet thrum of panic coiling beneath their skin.

Nicholas sits next to you, his gaze a constant, possessive thing, lingering even when he pretends to focus on slicing into his steak with meticulous care. Across you, his mother lifts her wine glass with an elegance that seems second nature, her smile warm but knowing, like she’s in on the secret of your existence here.

The music hums on, smooth and slow, a lover’s whisper against the walls. A mockery of peace.

“Eat, darling,” Nicholas urges, his voice gentle, coaxing, but beneath it—an edge, a command.

You pick up your fork, pressing it into the soft meat, feeling its tenderness yield beneath the tines. The motion is automatic, rehearsed. Just another performance in the fragile illusion of normalcy that drapes over this house like lace, delicate enough to tear if you breathe the wrong way.

The clink of silver against porcelain fades into the background as his mother sets down her glass, eyes gleaming with something both mischievous and wounded. The warm glow of the chandelier overhead does little to soften the accusation in her gaze as she looks between you and Nicholas.

“You know, I had to hear it from Nara,” she announces, her tone light, but her posture stiff, expectant.

Nicholas exhales through his nose, the smallest shift in his expression betraying his exasperation. “Mother—”

“No, no, don’t you ‘Mother’ me.” She leans forward, her manicured fingers curling against the edge of the table as if she’s physically reining herself in. “I was there for everything. I helped pick out the crib, the clothes, the bottles—I have been involved. And yet, the one detail I don’t know, the one surprise left, you keep from me?” She presses a hand to her chest, as if personally wounded. “You let me go shopping without knowing if I was buying for my grandson or granddaughter?”

There’s something almost childlike in the way she pouts, a stark contrast to the polished woman she presents herself as. It’s unsettling. Endearing, in a way. Dangerous, in another.

Nicholas sighs, setting his knife down with deliberate care. “It wasn’t intentional. We weren’t keeping it from you.”

His mother gasps, dramatic, pressing her hand over her heart as though he just struck her. “Oh, so I suppose I was just forgotten, then?”

You shift in your seat, pressing your palm over the swell of your stomach in an absentminded gesture. The weight of her attention flicks to you instantly, eyes softening. She reaches forward, fingers brushing your wrist as she squeezes gently, reassuringly. “And you let him do this to me?” she asked, though there’s no real malice in it. Just a sort of helpless fondness, the kind that worms its way into your ribs and makes you question whether you should be charmed or unsettled.

“I—I didn’t think—”

“Oh, darling, don’t you start.” She releases you with a huff, shaking her head. “Honestly, Nicholas. A boy. A grandson. And I had to hear it secondhand? You are impossible.”

Nicholas rubs his temple, the tension in his shoulders making it abundantly clear that this is not a new conversation between them. “It’s hardly life-altering news.”

“For you, maybe. But I’ve been waiting for this moment since you were in the womb.” She exhales, long-suffering, before fixing you with a smile, warm and indulgent. “At least tell me you’re excited. A little bit?”

Excited. The word rolls through you, foreign, unfamiliar, heavy. There are many things you feel—excitement is not among them. But her smile is expectant, and Nicholas’s stare unwavering, and so you force yourself to nod.

Her expression brightens instantly, eyes alight with something almost reverent as she reaches for your hand again. “Oh, we have so much to plan, don’t we? The nursery, the final touches—at least now I know which colors to lean into. Not that I mind terribly. He’ll be beautiful, I just know it.”

The weight of expectation settles around you, cloying and thick, wrapping itself around your throat like a velvet ribbon. You smile, small and polite, and Nicholas’s fingers brush against yours beneath the table, a silent warning, a quiet claim.

The music plays on, smooth and slow, curling through the air like smoke.

A mockery of peace.

His mother dabs at the corner of her lips with a linen napkin before setting it aside, fingers lacing together atop the table. Her eyes gleam with something more calculating now, a shift from playful grievance to something with sharper edges.

“There’s also the Thanksgiving party coming up,” she says, almost offhandedly. “It’s important, Nicholas. A celebration of everything you’ve built after…everything.”

Your stomach knots.

His mother doesn’t say it outright, but you hear it anyway. After everything. After you.

Nicholas’s grip tightens around his fork, just for a second, before he forces himself to relax. “I know.”

“And I think it’s time people saw her,” she continues, gesturing toward you with a knowing smile. “The world need to know who she is.”

Something flickers behind Nicholas’s eyes. A shadow of something cold, possessive. His lips press together. “That’s not necessary.”

His mother tilts her head, bemused. “Oh, but it is. People are curious, Nicholas. And you can’t just keep her locked away forever.

Can’t he?

The words hang unspoken between them, but you can feel the weight of them, thick and suffocating. Your pulse thrums against your skin.

Nicholas doesn’t respond right away. He studies his mother, his fingers curling, tapping once against the table. A silent war.

Then, his mother smiles, almost too brightly. “You know, I’ve been telling everyone in my circle how beautiful your story is. How you fell in love with her, Nicholas. How it wasn’t about the money, wasn’t about anything but her. It’s the perfect tale of destiny. The romance between the caretaker, who is so dedicated and selfless, and the patient, who fell for the one person who wasn’t just there for the inheritance.”

Your heart drops.

His mother’s gaze softens, as if she’s remembering some distant, sentimental moment. “How you looked at her the first time, knowing she wasn’t like the others. How she cried for you, Nicholas, when you missed a step and had to get stitches on your forehead. You never saw it, but she wept for you. She never confessed her feelings, not once. But I knew. I always knew.

Nicholas’s jaw tightens, but his eyes shift toward you, locking in place, dark and cold.

“I know how it looks, Mother.” His voice is quiet, but there’s a chill to it, something that cuts through the warmth of the room. “But this isn’t something we need to broadcast.”

His mother leans back, a knowing smile playing at her lips. “Oh, but it’s not just about what you need, Nicholas. It’s about what’s right. People should see the connection between you two. They’ll understand. They’ll see that this isn’t just some simple arrangement between patient and caretaker.”

Your stomach churns.

She turns her attention to you, her eyes soft and calculating as she smiles. “It’s time they knew you. Time they saw the bond that has been blossoming here. They’ll admire you, just as I do. A love story no one could ever forget.”

Nicholas’s hand clenches into a fist, the subtle tension in his posture thickening with every word his mother speaks. “I’m not hiding her, Mother. But this… this is too much.”

His mother shakes her head, dismissing his concerns. “Oh, it’s not too much. It’s necessary.”

Her gaze shifts to you again, her smile wide and almost too warm. “You’ve been part of this family for a while now, darling. You should be proud to stand by his side.”

The tension in the room thickens, and Nicholas’s words come out with a quiet but unmistakable fury. “Fine. You’ve had your say. I’ll agree, but on my terms.”

His mother beams, victorious. “Perfect. I’ll make the arrangements. And we’ll have a beautiful celebration.”

She stands, smooth and graceful, as if nothing had just shifted between the three of you. She walks toward Nicholas, kissing him on the cheek before moving to you, cupping your face with a delicate touch. “I’ll see you soon, darling,” she says, voice sweet but laced with something else.

Then, with a final glance, she’s gone, leaving behind only the scent of her perfume and the tension that suffocates the room.

The door clicks shut, and Nicholas moves without warning.

You barely have time to react before he’s on you, his arms crushing you against him with a force that steals your breath. It’s not a tender embrace—no, it’s a claim. A marking. His body presses you into the hard line of his chest, every inch of him seething with something dark, something urgent. His breath is hot against your temple, teeth grazing the soft curve of your ear as he speaks in a low, dangerous murmur.

“You won’t try again, will you?” His voice is a promise, low and silky, but underneath it—there’s an edge. A tremor of barely contained violence.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight with the weight of his words. You know exactly what he means. Not another escape. Not another attempt.

But there’s no need to answer. He already knows.

His hand slides down your arm, the touch almost too gentle, too calculating. He traces over the skin where the tracker resides—silent, invisible, but always there. A reminder. His fingers press against the spot, not gently, but with a purposeful intensity, as if marking his territory. As if claiming you even more thoroughly than before.

“Don’t you dare think you can run again,” he growls, his voice dropping to a whisper, sharp and venomous, like a blade pressed to your skin. “You think you can outsmart me? You’re not getting away. Not this time.”

His lips graze your jaw, brushing against your skin, before his teeth catch the edge of your earlobe, biting down just enough to make your breath catch. A small, cruel sound escapes you, and he groans low in his throat, the sound rough with restrained hunger.

“You’re mine. Always have been. And no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be free of me.” His grip on you tightens, his hands moving to frame your face, cupping your cheeks with a possessiveness that feels like it’s suffocating you. He brings you in closer, his forehead pressing against yours, and his eyes are dark pools of something that looks far too much like obsession. “You’ll never escape. Not from me. Not from this.”

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, slow, deliberate, as if he’s savoring the moment. His gaze never leaves your face, and the intensity of it makes your skin crawl. There’s nothing kind in that look. Only ownership. Only control.

“You don’t understand, do you?” he murmurs, almost tenderly, though the violence lurking in his tone is unmistakable. “You’re mine, and no one can take you from me. Not now, not ever.”

His fingers tighten again, pressing against your throat just enough to remind you of his power. You can barely breathe, but the air is thick with the tension between you, heavy and suffocating.

“Try to run again,” he whispers, lips curling into something that almost resembles a smile. “And I’ll make sure you regret it.”

He pulls back just enough to study your face, his gaze piercing, as if he’s waiting for some acknowledgment—some understanding that you’re his, fully, completely. The smile that creeps across his lips is soft, but it’s a predator’s smile. A cruel, possessive thing.

“You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” he asks, voice silky and lethal.

His hands fall to your waist, pulling you closer once more, as if there’s no space in the world for anyone else, least of all you.

The music plays on, but now it’s no longer a mockery of peace. It’s the sound of a predator circling its prey, the rhythm slow, steady, inevitable.

And you, like everything else in this house, belong to him.

• ─────⋅☾ ☽⋅───── •

The opulence of the evening drapes over you like the gown Nicholas selected himself—silken fabric gliding against your skin, hugging your form in a way that flatters but does not constrict. The deep, muted hue shimmers under the golden glow of chandeliers, reflecting the wealth and status of the people who fill the room.

Nicholas never leaves your side. His hand rests possessively at the small of your back, a constant, grounding pressure that reminds you of his claim. You move only when he moves, speak only when prompted, and even then, your voice is little more than an ornament to the conversation, unnecessary yet expected. His mother beams at you, at him, at the perfect picture she’s presenting to the world.

“She was never after the money,” she coos to the women gathered around. “And she never even confessed her feelings for him, you know? But the moment Nicholas got stitches—oh, she cried for him. That’s how I knew it was real.”

A delighted hum ripples through the circle of elegantly dressed women. They look at you with something warm, something approving. As if you’re the epitome of devotion, of a love story too good to be hidden away.

Nicholas answers for you when questions arise, his voice smooth and unwavering, crafting a narrative you have no say in. His mother basks in it, weaving you into her world with delicate precision, ensuring every guest understand just how deeply Nicholas loves you—and how deeply you love him.

A hand at your elbow startles you. Not Nicholas. Trevor, his assistant.

His voice is gentle, polite, carefully measured. “Forgive me for interrupting, sir,” he says, directing his words to Nicholas first before his gaze flickers to you. “But I believe she may need a moment to step away. Just for some air.”

Your breath stills. Nicholas’s fingers press into your waist, a barely perceptible squeeze. He doesn’t look at you, only at Trevor, assessing, calculating. Trevor’s tone remains respectful, non-confrontational, but he does not backdown.

“She hasn’t said a word about it,” he adds softly, “but I can tell.”

Nicholas exhales through his nose, the tension in his jaw visible, but before he can respond, his father’s voice cuts through the murmur of conversation.

“Nicholas.”

It isn’t just a summons—it’s an expectation, a command wrapped in the weight of authority. When Nicholas turns, his father is watching him from across the room, a hand raised in a subtle but unmistakable gesture. “Come. They’re waiting.”

The business partners. Nicholas cannot refuse, not without making a statement that would ripple through the evening.

His grip tightens briefly before he turns his attention back to Trevor. “Stay with her,” he commands, low and firm. “Not for long.”

Trevor inclines his head. “Of course, sir.”

Nicholas studies him for a moment longer, then his gaze drops to you. Dark. Unreadable. His thumb brushes over your wrist—a silent warning—before he finally steps away, striding toward his father with practiced ease.

The moment he’s out of earshot, Trevor exhales, lowering his voice. “Just a moment outside, if you’d like,” he offers, his tone light but kind. “I’ll stay with you.”

The weight of Nicholas’s absence is both a relief and a phantom pressure still lingering against your skin.

You nod. Trevor does not smile, but something in his expression softens.

He leads you away, and for the first time tonight, you breathe.

• ─────⋅☾ ☽⋅───── •

The night air is crisp against your skin, a welcome contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the party. The city sprawls beneath the balcony, lights twinkling like distant stars, but they feel as unreachable as freedom itself.

Trevor stands beside you, silent at first, his presence neither overwhelming nor intrusive. Just there. Allowing you the space to breathe.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. “For noticing.”

Trevor turns his head slightly, studying you with quiet curiosity. “Noticing?”

You exhale, fingers brushing against the smooth railing. “It’s been a while since someone did.”

His gaze lingers, patient, waiting for you to say more. You hesitate, warring with yourself before the words slip free, fragile yet firm. “I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t even supposed to meet him.”

Trevor says nothing, but his attention sharpens, an unspoken invitation for you to continue.

You swallow, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I applied for the job in place of my friend. She… she couldn’t make it, and I thought… just one day. Just enough to help her. But he wouldn’t let me go.”

Trevor’s brow furrows. He remains silent, but you can feel the weight of his concern.

“I tried to leave.” You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. “Three times. And every time, I failed. I don’t even try anymore. I can’t. Not when—” Your hand drifts instinctively to your stomach, fingers ghosting over the fabric of your gown. “Not when my child deserves better than a mother who keeps running and failing.”

Trevor’s jaw tightens. “So, you stay. For your child.”

You nod. “If it means they grow up safe, with everything they need… I’ll play the part he wants.”

Trevor exhales slowly, his fingers curling into fists before he forces them to relax. Then, carefully, he reaches out, his hand grazing yours before settling against the back of it. A silent promise. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

You blink up at him, unsure if you misheard. “Trevor—”

“I’ll help you.” His grip tightens, his voice unwavering. “We’ll find a way. I swear it.”

A lump forms in your throat, emotions threatening to spill over, but before you can speak, before you can even process the gravity of his words, the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

Something feels off.

Unbeknownst to either of you, hidden beneath the rich ruby of your ring, a tiny bug transmits every whispered confession. And standing just beyond the entrance to the balcony, in the shadows cast by the golden light of the ballroom, Nicholas listens.

Watching.

Waiting.

And the look on his face is anything but forgiving.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @fandangoballs @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger

[ughdontbeboring]

hidden.

Feyd x Black/WoC Reader (can be read by anyone tho)

you and Feyd have this thing and it can never be more.

warnings: Feyd bc let’s be real, smut, a little degradation, breeding kink

note: I love feyd, don’t know if I did him justice at all BUT the need to write him just won’t leave me be. I have a few others in the works so let’s see how it goes. Also no proofread, it’s late and I’m horny so yea.

No description of ethnicity but reader when I write is always written with myself in mind. It’s soooo self indulgent.

if you like it, love it, fuck with it leave some love. I DO NOT give permission for my shit to be used anywhere by anyone.

x

x

You know you shouldn’t be doing this but you just can’t help yourself. In all honesty how could you be expected to control yourself and behave like a lady of a great house when HE exists, when he was fucking you completely stupid against this cold wall in a darken slightly hidden hallway in the fortress. 

You were extremely thankful this meeting of the great houses was taking place on Giedi Prime because not a living soul on this planet would dare speak of seeing the sight that the two of you made. Completely lost in each other, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he fucked into you with a desperate need, his muscular ass on display, your face full of pleasure as he bite love marks into your chest where your breast were fully exposed - because he knows there’s less chance of anyone seeing and he only even thinks of that for you and your honor - His plump lips pulling a nipple into his soft wet mouth to suck making you cry out.

Even your handmaids could be sent away and wait where they wouldn’t be spotted without you because he could do so on his own home planet though he probably could manage it on any planet he was that feared. You were lucky enough to sway your father to let you bring the only two you knew you could trust. 

You could hardly keep your thoughts together when a particularly hard slow thrust made you scream out. You knew you were caught letting your mind wonder. 

He tsked against your ear, his blacken teeth nipping the lobe before his tongue flicked it.

“Am I boring you my lady?” His deep raspy voice questioned in the deathly quiet hallway. 

“No my love, know s-sometimes can’t help it” You answered breathlessly as you pulled your head back, your hand cradling his cheek as your eyes finally found each others.

Sometimes you got too caught in your thoughts and worries about being found, something he didn’t like. He was the kind of man that didn’t like anything to take your attention away from him and with the limited time your both able to find to be together he demanded you were fully present with him at all times and if not he’d have to bring that pretty little mind of yours back to the situation at hand.

He smirked, it was then you realized he had pulled out. The empty feeling sitting in. 

“Then let me help you” 

Before you could respond his thick long cock was pushing past your sensitive lips and burying its self deep within you to the hilt. You choked on your own scream as his pelvis pulled back and snapped forward with another hard thrust. You felt every veiny inch of him within your slick tight walls. 

“Oh fuck” you moaned eyes rolling back as he continued his short brutal thrusts “oh Feyd, please”. 

“Please what?” His deep voice mocked.

“Please, please wanna cum” you mumbled hardly getting the words out as your head fell backwards into the wall.

“Would you let me fuck you like this in front of all of them? In front of him?” He mocked some more, the “him” carrying the hatred you knew he had for the man he viewed as weak that your father had promised you to. 

“Oh god yes! ‘M all yours!” You yelled desperately, pinned to the wall like decor, a fine piece of art as he drove his cock into you at that tortuous pace. It was hard, slow and deep. 

His large rough callous hands which were somehow still soft held your bare ass under your dress to keep you in place as he fucked you. His fingers tips gripped you so tight you were sure there would be bruising. 

“Let him see how wet I make you? How my pretty girl screams for me? Begging for my cock?” He rasped as his eyes bore into yours, your faces were so close at this point your sure you both were just breathing in eachothers breaths.

Your tight walls clenched even harder on his throbbing cock causing him to falter slightly, his hips needing a split second to get back into rhythm. 

“Fuck!” He roared in that unique tone of his, “Look at you getting wet like a whore” he spat at you, though there was no malice.

“Getting fucking wet when I talk about fucking you in front of him, is that what you want? Want him and the whole known universe to know that you belong to me? That you belong to na-Baron Feyd Rutha Harkonnen? Know how well you take my cock?” He gritted, the look of pure possessiveness in his blue eyes as his nostrils flared, his full bottom lip being pulled between his teeth.

You couldn’t help the tears that sprung, and your nails that dug into his back no doubt breaking skin, you heard the hiss pass through his lips at the pleasure of it but he was just fucking you so good, splitting you wide open on his cock and saying the most nastiness things a lady of a great house should never hear. He was speaking to you a way no one would ever dare and it was driving crazy you like he knows it always does. 

“Y-yes! Wan’ them all to know!” You moaned as your shaky breath washed over his full lips. You closed the small space and took his mouth upon yours, his opening immediately to take dominance over your tongue. The kiss was just as messy and sloppy as the fucking currently happening in a hallway anyone could walk down. Yet you couldn’t care less because of the pure ecstasy he was making you feel and because you knew Feyd would kill anyone stupid enough to walk this way, let along gaze upon you in this state. 

The rest of the world may have not knew but those here did and they knew better than to ever speak on it. 

Here they all know you belong to Feyd and that made your heart soar because you’d give anything for all to know. 

“Fuck pretty girl” he groaned against your wet mouth, “You’re dripping down my balls, my fucking thighs are wet with you”.

His words just made you moan louder.

“Go head, cum for me, let go my pretty little pet” he rasped.

The scream that tore through you should make you embarrassed how much you sounded like a common whore but nothing in you could muster a care in the world. Feyd was worth everything. Worth getting caught, worth the embarrassment on your family, worth whatever came with being found out. 

Your body shook as the force of your orgasm pushed Feyd’s cock out, momentarily catching him off guard before the loss of your heat and your desperate whine at the action caused him to snap back in action and drive his cock back in til he was brushing your cervix. 

Your body continued to shake as your pussy claimed his cock in a vice grip and your eyes rolled back, your mouth hanging open with some slight drool down the corner. Everything about the moment sent a chill down Feyd’s  spine as his balls drew tight and his cock swelled, the release of his cum shooting into your warmth and drenching your walls with his thick seed. 

How Feyd wished more then anything you both could allowed it to take, the thought of you claimed in that way, round with his child caused Feyd release to prolong. A groan ripping through his chest, as his cock continued to spurt his cum into your warm haven. Desperate to see you round, full of him. 

“Fuck!” 

Your hands guided his head as you brought him in for an embrace. Your faces pressed together.

The both of you stayed that way for awhile. Deep breathing slowly coming to a normal pace as the mixture from both your releases cooled on each of your thighs. 

He slowly pulled out his soften cock as you verbally mourned the loss. 

Feyd helped you fix yourself before slipping his cock back into his pants and pulling them back over his hips. He hadn’t pull them down far to begin with with the rush you both were in. Just enough to get his impressive cock out. 

“Did you mean it?” He asked catching you off guard with the softness and vulnerability of his deep raspy tone. 

You searched his handsome face looking for an answer before it hit you. You fought back the tears that threaten to fall. The sadness that washed over you you wished wasn’t the reality.

“Of course, more than anything but we both know it would never happen Feyd. I am already betrothed” you remind him. “My father will not reconsider, not while house Fenring has offered so much and he still carry’s hatred for the Baron”.

Feyd didn’t seem surprised at your statement, it was the truth you both knew. He just seemed to be contemplating and that worried you. You didn’t want him to do anything that would get himself into trouble.

x

It was two long days later when you got to see Feyd again, this time in the arena. You don’t understand how it all happened because it had happened so quickly. 

You were sitting up in the guest seats watching with a few the other young lady’s of great houses, gossiping about Feyds skill and brutality with the rest of your respective families when Feyd had just finished his slaughter. He stood there proud after taking off his shield and finishing in an even more entertaining way when all realized some of the slaves weren’t drugged. 

He raised a single fist as the roar from the area slowly came to a stop. A servant rushed to him handing over something. You sat watching with all wondering what was happening since this wasn’t customary for the end of the fight. 

“What is the na-Baron up to?” One of the lords from the other houses asked as everyone watched. 

Your heart raced as you watched through your glasses as he brought a mic up to his mouth. He smirked before announcing his challenge to the young lord of house Fenring for your hand in marriage.

You could swear he looked directly up at you high in the sky above him smirking before he cut his palm, made a fist and pounded his chest in a salute of ultimate respect. The stunned crowed of Giedi Prime following their beloved na-Baron. The sound was deafening. Your breathing stopped as you heard all the gasps around you. The young lady’s grasping at you asking a million questions as your father and Lord Fenring jumped to their feet yelling their rage at the disrespect of the young na-Baron. For they understood things were different here and just like the na-Baron was currently explaining on Giedi Prime his challenge must be accepted by the young lord himself and he would not be able to choose a fighter instead where the laws of marriage was considered. It was fight to the death or be shamed and seen as weak. Which on Giedi Prime was seen as the worst fate. To refuse meant House Harkkonen would refuse to acknowledge House Fenring because of their weakness. All deals and trade voided. 

You couldn’t slow your breathing as you leaned on the railing watching him watching you. You could hear the commotion around you and the young lord Fenring fighting with his father over his acceptance before making his way out the room. Hope bloomed in your chest, you knew your father could not refuse a display like this. Such an open declaration of love, of ownership. You were his and he would fight to the death to make it so in all ways.

It wasn’t long before you seen doors on the stadium floor beginning to open. And Feyd’s smirk turned into a monstrous smile full of blackened teeth. You were his and it was time all knew. Giedi Prime would finally have their na-Baroness. 

x

x

[ko-existing]

Running in Circles, Searching for What?

Readers often describe feeling trapped in a loop: searching, chasing, doing more to get somewhere. Hoping for progress, proof, or an improvement that justifies all the effort. But here’s the real question:

Has it brought you anywhere?

Take a moment. How long have you been seeking? Months? Years? Have you "found" anything, or is it just more seeking, more questions, more frustration? You run in circles, chasing shadows, hoping the next practice, insight, or realization will be "it."

It’s not wrong to feel this way, but consider this: the very act of searching implies you think there’s something missing—something you lack that needs to be attained. But what if the assumption itself is flawed? What if the one seeking is the very illusion you’re trying to unpack?

Let’s step back and look at the nature of a "dream".

When "you" seem to "dream" at night, no matter what the "dream" looks like—whether it’s exciting, terrifying, or mundane—"who/what" is always "present"? Who is there in every "dream"? And how do you even know it’s a "dream"? You can feel sensations arising, hear the sounds, and even "think" within the "dream". Sounds familiar, no?

Now look deeper: where is the dream coming from? What gives it its apparent existence? When the dream ends, where does it go? And in those moments of so-called deep sleep, when you say, "I didn’t dream at all," how do you know that gap was even there? What remains?

In every dream, there’s an undeniable Knowing—a "presence" that holds it all, isn't there? The dream is fleeting, but the Knowing of it isn’t. It’s there whether the dream is "vivid", "faint", or "absent" altogether. And that same knowing is "present" now, reading these words, isn't it? You don't have to use any thoughts to notice.

So.. what are you really searching for? The next “aha” moment? A tangible shift? Something to confirm, “Yes, now I’ve got it”? But who would "get it"?

All there is, is this—this effortless "awareness" in which everything arises and disappears.

All seeking starts to dissolve when you see that what you’re looking for isn’t "out there." It’s the same presence that’s already aware of the seeking, the frustration, and the loop itself. Just like in a dream, you’re chasing answers without realizing you’re the space in which the entire dream unfolds.

Here’s the thing: I can tell you this over and over again, and I can write endless words about it, but at the end of the day, you have to see it. Nothing I say or anyone else says will make it clearer to you than seeing it directly.

Think of it like this: imagine I tell you about the taste of a "Tsampa" (tibetan foodstuff). Let me try to describe it—Tsampa has a simple, earthy taste—kind of nutty and a little smoky because it’s made from roasted barley. It’s pretty dry on its own, but when you mix it with butter tea (bo cha) or milk (or water), it turns into a creamy porrdige that’s super satisfying.

Do you now know how it tastes based off of this short description? No matter how much anyone tries to describe it, you wouldn’t really know what it’s like until you actually try it yourself. You might feel like you “get it,” but until you actually taste Tsampa (-Porridge) for yourself, it’s all just words. The actual direct experience is yours to have, and words will never compare to it.

It’s the same here. Look at the loop you feel stuck in. Look at the dreamlike nature of every experience. Look at what’s behind the looking itself. And notice: the seeking, the searching, and even the apparent struggle—what is all of it arising in?

The dream at night is your perfect clue. Who’s been there in every dream, in every scene, in every story in and out of it? Who’s the constant presence beneath it all? If you truly see that, will there be any questions left?

[inuyashaluver]

Could you please write something about patri Guijarro mabye she proposed because all these woso proposals are making me want to get married.

proposal - patri guijjaro

patri guijjaro x reader

description: in which your girlfriend invites you out on a date and you both end up in tears

warnings: nothing but fluff!! spanish in bold italics, not proofread

a/n: hiya, ITS PATRI TIME!! you and me both lmao!! all the woso relationships rn are melting my heart, hope you enjoy!! ❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, patri, had a very special relationship. the bond between the two of you igniting from the time you were both merely 16, just teammates back then, and extremely shy.

patri was probably the most shy person you knew, well, around you at least. to everyone else, she was loud and excited, always loving to mess around and prank people with her friends when she had the chance.

the girl was in love, it was so completely obvious, and the fact you hadn’t caught on not only baffled her, but everyone else around you. she never pranked you, she never did anything more than tease you, she made you laugh, she made you smile and it was one of her proudest moments.

patri swears your smile is the only thing that brings her joy, it always has, and so, through a heartfelt, though aggression confession, you and patri began to date when you were both 20. and of course, she had to be injured for it to come out. 

—

you were the first one to her when she went down on the pitch, wide eyed and concerned written all over your face. “patri” you breathe out, cradling her face to make her look at you through her pained expression. though, when she saw your face, all the pain washed away.

“amor (love), it's okay” she frowns, holding onto the wrist closest to her face, it’s her least favourite moment, seeing you upset, especially over her. she couldn’t stand the thought.

you begin to bombard her with questions as the physios access her, helping her to stand when she asks you to. she rolls her eyes so fondly as you clutch to her waist as you helped her walk, both of you getting subbed off because you clearly were not leaving this girl’s side.

“you are so careless, patri!” you cry, refusing to look her in the eye once you see her now bandaged and iced knee, thankfully nothing too serious.

“aw, am i?” she teases, giving you a mocking pout even when you don’t see it. “yes, you are!” you snide, mindlessly ushering around her to grab water, a stray protein bar, anything to help her feel better.

“will you stop moving, pollito? (little chicken)” she chuckles, stars present in her eyes. she felt her stomach do a flip, you always cared for her, but to this extent? it made her feel special.

“no, i need to go get you a pillow-” you mutter, looking around for your target, “no, you don’t” she says somewhat sternly, dipping her eyes from the physio bed she was sitting on to make eye contact with you. and once she saw your pretty eyes finally meeting hers, her heart swelled with affection.

“amor (love), you need to calm down” she says softly, her words sitting so elegantly in the air before you disrupted it. “i can’t calm down!” you shout, “why not?” she yells back.

“because i love you!” you exclaim, eyes wide with realisation once the words came out. her mouth opens slightly, this is her dream come true.

“i love you too” she lowers the volume, staring at you in astonishment. and you don’t know how, but you lurched forward, pulling her into a kiss. 

she hums against you, her hands immediately finding your waist as she pulled you to stand in between her spread legs, pushing your torsos together with a warm embrace.

you kiss her shyly at first, arms around her neck as she pulled you closer, but once patri kept kissing you and uttering ‘i love you’ against your lips, that all went out the window.

when she pulled away, she didn’t waste any time, “be my girlfriend?” she breathes out, you nod eagerly, “yes please” you smile, pulling her into another kiss and the rest is history. you have now been dating for over 6 years, and patri knew it was time to take it to the next level.

you were already living together, even had a little puppy together. you both knew you wanted to spend the rest of your lives together, it wasn't even a question. you just both weren’t in a rush.

well, patri was in a rush but she never told you, secretly planning your perfect proposal for years.

—

you were on camp for the spanish national team with patri, both of you on a rare occasion being separated. she was currently sipping on some water during a break in training, you walk up next to her and purposely bump her shoulder. she was about to start an argument until she saw your cute, cheeky face looking at her.

“amorcito (little love)” she cheeses out, pulling you into a tight hug. she smushed her face in your neck, breathing in your scent as she nuzzled into you.

“hi, bebé (baby)” you giggle, rubbing your hands up and down her back comfortingly. “don’t, i’ll fall asleep” she mumbles, lip brushing your neck in a ticklish sensation.

“ugh, can we?” you sigh, holding onto her tightly, leaning back to kiss her cheek affectionately a couple times before getting teased.

“you two used to be so shy” leila grins, making you and patri pull apart slightly. patri smiles, knowing it was true, her arm wrapping around your back and resting on your hip, her thumb brushing over the spot gingerly.

“cause she loves me” patri teases, kissing your cheek tenderly, making you giggle and lean into her, even when the rest of the team began to tease you both for being so incredibly smitten ever since you were kids.

you get called over by alexia, well scolded for not working on your shooting practice with her so you give your girlfriend a parting kiss, well, tried. “bebé (baby), ale will kill me” you mumble against her lips, desperately trying to separate from your extremely touchy girlfriend.

“ale can wait” she huffs, lightly slapping your behind, “kiss me properly” shutting off your response when her lips meld with yours. clearly, you get lost in it, patri is patri, and alexia has had enough.

“you can have her back at the end of the day” alexia frowns, flicking patri’s forehead, you pout as you look at her, “i’ll never forget about you!” patri jokes, blowing you an exaggerated kiss to make you giggle and working absolute wonders.

“you need to get her a ring, now” claudia speaks up from next to her, startling your girlfriend who was distracted watched you get corrected by alexia as you did your shooting practice.

“i’ve had one for years, just waiting for the perfect time” she grins, regretting the words because her best friend was absolutely relentless with teasing. unaware, alexia was telling you the exact same thing as claudia.

—

what you didn’t know, patri has been trying to propose at every chance she got, but it never felt right. she couldn’t explain it, it just didn’t have the right vibe, and you only deserve the best. what she didn’t know, is that you were doing the exact same thing as her.

she kept the ring close to her at all times, deathly afraid of you finding it. not knowing you were doing the same thing.

though, the day finally felt right in barcelona. the sun was warm, but not too hot, the sky was a beautiful blue and for some reason when she woke up this morning and saw you sleeping soundly next to her. it was the right time.

she woke you up, peppering the skin of your back with loving kisses, making you stir awake and lean into her touch, something she loved about you dearly, the fact you could always recognise her touch, even in a sleepy state.

“mi amor (my love), let’s go out today” she whispers, you smile, flipping around to pull patri down into a hug. and funnily enough, the moment you saw the conditions of the day, you knew it was the right time.

—

you both got ready in separate rooms, wanting an element of surprise for the date. it also gave you both time to have a little internal panic about the proposal. you both hide the rings on you respectfully, gaining all the courage you could to meet in the living room.

“you’re so gorgeous” patri breathes out, affection bubbling in the air, you smile shyly, “you look so beautiful” you grin, walking towards her to pull her into a loving, slow kiss.

“let’s go before it gets too late!” patri rushes out, grabbing your hand tightly and excitedly, leading you both out of the house.

you both chatter excitedly and affectionately through a small local market, giggling as you tried the different foods, smelt the homemade candles and fangirled over the small crafts in different stalls.

the love was so incredibly obvious in sweet, it brought big smiles to people’s faces when they saw you both so loved up.

you both end the walk at a small flower picking patch, colourful flowers spread throughout the large field, and surprisingly, it was empty.

“can you close your eyes for two seconds?” patri grins, rubbing her thumb over your cheek quickly, you laugh, nodding and closing your eyes. she kisses your lips gently before getting down on her knee, pulling out the ring and holding it out to you.

“open” she says nervously, you cautiously open your eyes, and gasp without a second thought, the tears start rolling down your faces quickly.

“mi amor (my love), you have been my best friend, my person for years, and i couldn’t have asked for a more special person to be in my life." she takes a deep breath, smiling at you.

"you make me smile, you make me happy and i’ve never been so in love with someone as special as you” she chokes out, only tearing up more with how hard you’re crying.

“i want to spend forever with you, i love you so much, will you marry me?” she cries, letting out a wet laugh when you clutch at your heart.

“bebé, you kinda have to answer” she teases, though smile drops when you go down to her level, pulling out the ring you had for her. she gasps now, crying even harder than she was before.

“perfect date, right?” you laugh, moving closer to her, she laughs, “perfect day” she pulls you in for a loving kiss, knocking all the air out of your lungs.

you were so in love, the girl of your dreams is equally in love. it couldn’t get much more perfect than this.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - just pretend it’s you, ily pinaaa xx

liked by alexiaputellas and 44,232 others

patri8guijarro: do you think she caught my hint?

view all comments

yourname: yes, i got the hint

↳ patri8guijjarro: can we get one?

↳ yourname: you don't get one, bebé (baby), we HAVE one

↳ patri8guijjarro: PLEASE??????

↳ yourname: we'll see how nice you are

↳ claudiaapina: DON'T DO IT (Y/N)!!

↳ patri8guijjarro: NO ONE ASKED YOU

[honeyhaeya]

🎮04 | Your Lips, My Lips, Apocalypse 🎭

Part-Time Lover | JxW - masterlist

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: smut, explicit language, petty arguments, depictions of stress/anxiety related to online and work life, light suggestive jokes/humor, enemies-to-lovers dynamic, mature themes, light suggestive content, jealousy/possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, mild profanity, oblivious reader (she needs proof over everything and anything), competitive tension, angst, emotional manipulation, romantic rivalry, descriptive intimacy. proceed with caution if any of these are sensitive topics for you! angst, emotional manipulation, romantic rivalry, descriptive intimacy. reader is getting bullied by her co-workers ! smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex (fictional context, not ideal IRL), rough sex (jeonghan pounding into you real hard), lots of kissing, degradation (light. reader is a slut. period.), overstimulation, desperate kisses, tension-filled build-up, power dynamics (m dom), creampie (bashful of that word), oh and lots of kissing. (i honestly dk what to even add in here - lol i added somthing unrelated to smut SORRY its already edited tho) wc: 12,180 ♪ playlist ♪ : boyfriend (ariana grande with social house), never be the same (camilla cabello), teeth (5 seconds of summer), treat you better (shawn mendes). "you aint my boyfriend, and i aint your girlfriend, but you dont want me to see nobody else"-reader "i lose my mind when it comes to you"-wonwoo "i cant have what i want but neither can you"-jeonghan

04

You woke up on a bed, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the thick curtains. The surroundings were unfamiliar yet strangely recognizable. The high-ceilinged room, the marble tiles glistening faintly in the sun, and the faint scent of expensive cologne—there was no doubt. You were in Jeonghan's penthouse.

A sharp pang of confusion hit you as you sat up, brushing the stray strands of hair from your face. How the hell did you end up here? Memories from the night before crept in slowly, like fragments of a dream you weren't sure you'd actually had.

You'd barely had a sip of alcohol. In fact, you weren't drunk at all—just exhausted. The events of the party played back in pieces: you slumped over the kitchen counter, the cool granite pressing against your cheek as the distant thrum of music vibrated through the room. You remembered Seungcheol coming over to check on you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder as he muttered something about letting you rest. The memory blurred after that.

What you did remember was Wonwoo—quiet but present, seated across the room with a Nintendo Switch in his hands. He wasn't saying much, but you could feel his gaze flicker over to you every now and then, as if silently questioning why you'd passed out in such an uncomfortable spot. A small part of you wished he'd just told you to go home, but Seungcheol had intervened before anyone could. And that was when Jeonghan stepped in.

You could imagine his smooth, persuasive voice now: "I'll take her home. She's my responsibility." It was the kind of thing he'd say to justify anything, but you doubted it was really about responsibility. He didn't even know where you lived, and yet here you were, in his space, feeling even more out of place than you had at the party.

You sighed, rubbing your temples before standing up. The soft fabric of the oversized shirt you wore—clearly not your own—brushed against your legs as you padded across the room. It was early, but you still had time to get home, clean up, and make it to work. The thought of slipping out quietly tempted you, but you hesitated. It would feel rude not to at least thank him.

Steeling yourself, you opened the door and stepped out into the expansive hallway. Every detail of the penthouse screamed Jeonghan—elegant yet understated, expensive yet effortlessly casual. You followed the faint sound of movement, eventually stopping outside a door. Knocking lightly, you heard his voice from within.

"Come in."

Pushing the door open, you stepped inside to find Jeonghan seated at his usual spot—where you often worked on his makeup during long workdays. He wasn't looking at you, his gaze fixed on his phone as he leaned back in the chair with an air of ease that irritated you more than it should have.

"Jeonghan... thanks for last night," you started, your tone stiff. "You didn't have to. You could've just taken me home."

He glanced up, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I would have, but I don't know where you live."

Your brow furrowed at the simple reply. "You could've woken me up and asked."

"And disturb your beauty sleep? That's cruel, even for me," he replied smoothly, the teasing lilt in his voice grating on your nerves.

"Seriously," you pressed, crossing your arms over your chest, "I didn't ask for you to do any of that. But... thanks. I appreciate it."

For a moment, he didn't respond, his gaze flickering over you with an unreadable expression. Then, as if dismissing the sincerity of your words entirely, he spoke again. "What are you standing there for? Do my makeup."

Your jaw dropped slightly at the abrupt shift. "Excuse me?"

"You're here. Might as well make yourself useful." He gestured lazily toward the vanity table. "Or do you need me to remind you how to do your job?"

"I don't have my tools with me," you shot back, irritation bubbling to the surface.

Jeonghan's lips curved into a sly smile. "I have my own."

"You've been making me lug that heavy-ass kit around every day when you already had your own stuff?!" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in frustration.

He chuckled softly, clearly amused by your reaction. "You never asked. It's not my fault you're utterly stupid."

You glared at him, muttering under your breath, "Asshole."

"Careful," he warned lightly, his eyes glinting with amusement as you approached him. "You're in my house."

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the nearest foundation and set to work. He tilted his face up toward you, a smug expression lingering on his features as you patted the product onto his skin. You couldn't resist pressing a little harder than necessary, earning a quiet grunt of annoyance from him.

"Is this your way of taking revenge?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You wish," you muttered, focusing on blending the foundation smoothly across his skin. Despite your irritation, your fingers moved with practiced ease, the routine familiar and oddly grounding.

But as you worked, you couldn't ignore the closeness—the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from his skin. It was distracting, and you hated that it affected you at all.

He noticed, of course. He always did. "You're quiet today," he remarked, his voice softer now, almost curious. "Something on your mind?"

"Nothing," you replied quickly, avoiding his gaze. "Just tired."

"Hmm," he murmured, but his tone suggested he didn't believe you. "You should take better care of yourself. Passing out at parties isn't a good look."

"And ending up at your boss's house is?" you shot back, finally meeting his eyes.

He smiled—a slow, infuriating smile that made your stomach twist in ways you didn't want to acknowledge. "Touché."

The whole day at work dragged on like a slow, suffocating punishment. You had done absolutely nothing but sit in the studio, pretending to relax while doing the exact opposite. Jeonghan, in his infinite wisdom, had told you to "take a break" for the day. The catch? He didn't let you rest at home, where you might've actually managed to unwind. Instead, he insisted you stay here at work, throwing out some half-assed excuse about needing you nearby in case something came up.

If he really cared about your well-being, you thought bitterly, why didn't he just let you leave? Not that you were complaining—well, not out loud. But sitting back and watching models pose endlessly under bright studio lights was far from relaxing. You were bored to death, practically counting down the minutes as you perched on a spare chair in the corner of the room. Jeonghan, true to form, was nowhere to be seen—off handling something important, apparently.

It was disorienting, not being at his beck and call for once. Usually, he had you running across the city, juggling tasks that no other assistant would tolerate without raising hell. This strange lull felt wrong, as though he were deliberately giving you time to stew in your thoughts. And if Jeonghan had one talent, it was knowing exactly how to push your buttons.

Your coworkers, of course, had their own interpretations of the situation. You could feel their glances from across the studio, hear the faint whispers that stopped the moment you walked by.

"She's getting special treatment from Jeonghan, huh?" one of them muttered, not bothering to keep her voice low enough.

"Must be nice to sleep your way into perks," someone else added, followed by a chuckle that made your stomach twist.

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms, but you didn't say a word. Let them talk. It wasn't worth your energy to correct them. They didn't know what they were saying—didn't know the difference between what they assumed and what had actually happened.

Yes, you'd slept at Jeonghan's house. But that didn't mean what they thought it did. It wasn't like anything had happened. And as for "extra treatment"? If they thought this endless game of mental gymnastics Jeonghan put you through was some kind of reward, you'd happily trade places with them. Let them walk a mile in your shoes. Let them see how long they lasted before they begged for mercy.

Still, their words lingered, gnawing at the edges of your mind. You hated how easily they got under your skin, how much you cared about what people thought—even when you knew better. But what frustrated you even more was the fact that Jeonghan knew this would happen. He had to. And yet, here you were, sitting through this ridiculous excuse for "rest," waiting for him to pull another trick out of his sleeve.

By the time the lunch break rolled around, you were practically seething in your chair. You didn't even realize Jeonghan had walked into the studio until he was standing right in front of you, arms crossed and a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Enjoying your break?" he asked, his tone dripping with mock concern.

You glared up at him, too tired and too annoyed to play along. "If this is your idea of rest, you seriously need to reevaluate your understanding of the word."

Jeonghan chuckled, unbothered as always. "You're sitting down, aren't you? Looks like rest to me."

"Yeah, sitting down and listening to people talk shit about me. Real relaxing," you shot back, crossing your arms.

His smirk faltered for just a second, replaced by something more thoughtful. "What are they saying?"

"Nothing I haven't heard before," you muttered, looking away. "Doesn't matter."

Jeonghan crouched slightly so he was at eye level with you, his sharp gaze boring into yours. "If it doesn't matter, why do you look like you're about to rip someone's head off?"

You opened your mouth to reply, then closed it again, unsure of what to say. He always did this—pulled the words out of you before you even realized they were there.

Finally, you sighed. "Why didn't you just let me go home? I could've actually rested instead of sitting here like some kind of zoo exhibit."

Jeonghan tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "Because if you went home, you'd overthink everything until you gave yourself a headache."

You blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of his answer. "What?"

He straightened up, his usual smirk returning as if he hadn't just said something that completely threw you off balance. "You heard me. Now, come on. We're grabbing lunch."

"What?" you repeated, more sharply this time. "You're joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" He turned on his heel, already heading toward the door. "Hurry up. I don't have all day."

You stared after him, half tempted to stay put out of sheer spite. But then, against your better judgment, you got up and followed.

Because as much as you hated to admit it, he was right.

As you trailed behind Jeonghan, the murmurs from your co-workers grew louder, their snide remarks almost taunting.

"See? Told you she has a special something." "She's shameless. I bet she got the job because she slept her way through connections."

The venom in their voices stung, but you swallowed your anger. It wasn't worth it—not now. Jeonghan was already a few paces ahead, his long strides creating an effortless distance, his posture calm as ever. You envied how he seemed untouched by the chaos he often left in his wake.

For a moment, you hesitated. Turning around to confront them burned like an itch you couldn't quite scratch. But as your fists clenched at your sides, someone else beat you to it.

"Back to work." The sharp voice of the head photographer cut through the chatter like a whip. All eyes snapped to her. "You guys are so shameless. I bet you two have never even slept with anyone, let alone earned your positions fairly."

The room went silent, save for the muffled clicks of a nearby camera shutter. You turned your head slightly, catching the woman's commanding glare as she stood tall, exuding the kind of confidence you wished you could summon in moments like these.

You'd always known her as strict and sharp, but fair—qualities that had earned her respect among the staff. She didn't spare the offenders another glance, her focus already back on the set. Her words, though brief, felt like a lifeline, pulling you from drowning in humiliation.

Relief spread through your chest, and before you turned to follow Jeonghan, you gave her a small, grateful smile. She didn't acknowledge it, but something about the tension in her shoulders seemed to relax.

Jeonghan was already a good distance ahead, his pace unrelenting. You had to half-jog to catch up. When you finally reached him, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable.

"You look like you ran a marathon," he remarked, his tone as light as always. "Are you that desperate to keep up with me?"

You huffed, falling into step beside him. "Maybe if you walked like a normal human being, I wouldn't have to."

He smirked, a faint glimmer of amusement flickering across his face. "Or maybe I just enjoy watching you struggle."

You rolled your eyes but didn't bother replying. Somehow, bantering with him felt like the only way to ground yourself after what just happened. As you exited the studio, the cool air hit your face, and for the first time that day, you felt like you could breathe again.

"Where are we even going?" you asked, breaking the silence as Jeonghan led you toward the building's private parking area.

"You'll see," he said cryptically, his smirk widening.

As you followed Jeonghan to the parking lot, your curiosity piqued. His cryptic response only made you more suspicious. You weren't exactly in the mood for more mystery, but you couldn't deny that something about his confident demeanor made you feel oddly intrigued.

He stopped at his sleek black car, unlocking it with a quick press of a button. The engine purred to life as he slid into the driver's seat. You hesitated for a moment, but then slid into the passenger side, watching him in silence as he adjusted the mirrors and started driving.

"So," you began, breaking the quiet tension. "Where exactly are we going?"

Jeonghan shot you a quick glance, that same smug look on his face. "It's a surprise."

You sighed, sinking back into the plush seat. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Maybe," he said, a small chuckle escaping his lips. "But you'll find out soon enough."

The drive was smooth and relatively short, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you were heading somewhere neither of you had been before. The city slowly gave way to more secluded, quieter streets—definitely not a part of town you usually visited.

The car finally came to a stop in front of an upscale, modern building with glass windows reflecting the dimming sky. It had an air of exclusivity about it, something that felt... out of place.

You glanced at Jeonghan, your brow furrowing. "What is this place?"

"Trust me," he said as he turned off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. "You'll want to come inside."

The door clicked open, and Jeonghan got out without waiting for your response. You followed reluctantly, your footsteps echoing as you walked toward the entrance.

As you stepped inside, you were greeted by a warm, welcoming ambiance. It looked like a boutique hotel mixed with an art gallery—sleek furniture, artwork on the walls, and dim lights that set a mysterious yet cozy mood.

Jeonghan led you through the lobby and past a few velvet-curtained rooms. He didn't look back at you, and you followed in silence, your curiosity growing with each step.

Finally, he stopped in front of one of the rooms. The door was slightly ajar, revealing a luxurious suite, complete with a king-sized bed, a large soaking tub, and panoramic windows overlooking the city skyline.

"What is this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Your head was spinning with questions, but something told you Jeonghan wasn't here to answer them just yet.

"Like I said," he started, turning to face you with that same enigmatic smirk, "a surprise."

Your heart rate picked up as you looked around the room. The last thing you wanted was more uncertainty, more drama, but you couldn't deny the pull. Jeonghan, for all his teasing and annoying habits, had a way of making everything feel... intense. You had no idea what was coming, but that only seemed to heighten the tension.

He stepped closer to you, close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him. "Are you going to ask more questions?" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You hesitated, your mind racing. But with no clear way out and Jeonghan standing so close, his presence overwhelming, you took a deep breath and made your decision.

You hesitated, your mind racing. The atmosphere between the two of you had shifted, and there was no clear way out. Jeonghan stood close, his presence looming, his eyes unwavering as they searched yours for an answer. You could feel the heat radiating between you, almost like an unspoken tension that had been building up since last night.

With no way to turn back now, you took a deep breath and made your decision.

"I'll take my chances," you said, your voice soft but steady, betraying none of the nerves twisting inside you.

A slow, knowing smile spread across Jeonghan's face as he reached for your hand, fingers warm and confident against yours. Without a word, he led you further into the room, the door clicking shut behind you with a quiet finality.

The space seemed suddenly smaller, more intimate, as you felt his hand guide you toward the bed. Your heartbeat quickened, a mix of excitement and hesitation swirling in your chest. Jeonghan's eyes were fixed on you, his gaze heavy with unspoken promises.

Before you could think twice, you found yourself sitting on the bed, your hands resting on your lap. But Jeonghan didn't give you much time to process. He was already standing in front of you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body, his presence intoxicating.

Without a word, you slid your hands to his chest, pulling him toward you. His lips met yours in an instant—urgent, hungry, like something had finally snapped between the two of you. Your breath caught as you melted into the kiss, the world outside fading away until it was just the two of you.

In a blur of movement, Jeonghan's hands were on your hips, pulling you onto his lap with a smooth, practiced motion. You straddled him, the heat between you both intensifying as your bodies aligned in a way that felt both familiar and completely new.

His hands roamed over your waist, fingertips grazing the skin beneath your shirt as his lips trailed down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. You gasped softly, unable to suppress the wave of desire that rushed through you.

The kiss deepened as you instinctively ground your hips against him, the friction between you both making your pulse race even faster. Jeonghan's grip tightened on your hips, pulling you closer, his body language giving away everything he'd been holding back.

It was getting hot, the more you pulled yourself closer to him, the more it felt like he was trying to lean away like he's teasing you for some reason. Until his head hit the soft mattress under him, you were on top of him and he found it so hot.

That was the plan after all. He was making you lean closer until he lays down completely on the bed. 

Your cheeks was so red as you tongue-kissed him, eyes fluttered shut with your pretty lips soft all over his. Jeonghan's hand went to the back of your head, forcing the kiss to go deeper. 

You were wearing tight jeans at the moment that you can practically feel his cock gracing your clothed cunt. Meanwhile, Jeonghan's hands wandered under your cute blue puffed sleaves flutter top, his hands moved with precision as if he's trying to memorize your curves.

And that's when his hands found your hips, pulling you flush against his hard clothed cock. You whimpered when you felt his cock rubbing against your clit. Pulling away, you took a breath, but it wasn't long until Jeonghan's hand grabbed your chin as he sat up again, kissing you deep in the same hungry way again.

For a moment, Jeonghan pulled away, his eyes locked with yours. Your lips were swollen and he's proud to think how messed up you look right now with your cheeks red and body hot as if you have a fever or something. 

You feel so embarrassed when you find yourself soaking wet.

"Undress for me," he broke the silence, and you stared at him, cheeks heating up more if that was possible.

You were stuttering, not what knowing what to do or say—not when he's looking at you with a grin that makes him look oh-so-handsome. 

Jeonghan leaned back, hands resting on the bed watching what you would do. He wasn't doing anything at all, but why does it feel like the more he pulls away, the more you wanted to act all stupid and do as he says.

And just like that, you found yourself talking your clothes off, skin exposed right in front of him. His eyes roamed over your bare body, as if he's working on all his self control to not touch you just yet. To see how far you can get being bossed around by him.

You unclipped your bra, unbuttoned your pants and removed them all the way down. Jeonghan bit his lips, but he didn't do anything just yet. He was enjoying having you follow his order. 

He leaned in close, his lips finding your jawline down to your neck, now nipping at the sensitive flesh there, making you flinch a little. 

"A- are you giving me hickeys..?" You asked, but he didn't answer just yet. He guided your hands to the waistband of his pants, and you pulled it down, revealing Jeonghan's hard length. The bulge itself was enough to make you speechless. Doesn't matter, you were already speechless as it is.

Jeonghan unbuttoned his long-sleeved polo off, with him pulling you by the chin to look at him as he devours your lips yet again. His hands travelled back to your hips, pulling you to grind your soaked cunt to his hard cock. All you can do was moan in between kisses with him swallowing every sound coming from those pretty mouth of yours.

He tightened the grip on your hips before he pulled away for you to catch your breath. 

You were panting, your pussy burning with the aching feeling of wanting his cock deep inside you. You feel so slutty that you didn't even notice Jeonghan's hand make it's way to your inner thighs.

"You're so fucking wet. You're incredibly turned on just with a few kisses?" Jeonghan mused, looking at your glistening cunt. "I'm putting a finger in."

Jeonghan rubbed your clit, making you whimper under his touch, skin shivering as you pulled your hips against his hand. He couldn't help but smirk how worked up you were right now. He's got a lot to say, but no words came out of his mouth. He was too focused at the sight before him.

When he inserted two fingers in, it slipped inside you so easily. "What the fuck? It's like I don't need to prep you."

He continued pulling his fingers in and out of you, earning a chorus of loud moans, your head falling on his shoulders when he reached that one good spot that almost made you pass out. His thumb was running circles on your clit while his fingers worked in you like he's done it a hundred of times before. 

You were breathless, biting your lips to stop yourself from moaning his name. "J- Jeonghan...!! Fuck... S- so good." You said as you cum all over his hand, followed by a sweet squirt.

But that didn't stop Jeonghan, his fingers continued to work on you, trying to overstimulate you. And just like that, you cum again. He pulled his fingers out licking his fingers as his eyes met yours in a darkened gaze. 

Panting, your cheeks flushed, Jeonghan gripped your hips, pulling you to his cock.

He was hard you can feel his precum on the tip of his cock. You grabbed it, stroking your hand over his cock, and Jeonghan grunted, head falling back.

"You're going to be the death of me," he managed to say.

You got on the floor, kneeling in between his thighs as you opened your mouth for his cock, licking the tip with your hand stroking the rest before bobbing your head all over him. 

Jeonghan groaned, his hand grabbing your hair making you blow him deeper. "f- fuck, you're such a good fucking slut."

You whimpered, having his cock reaching your throat. He was too fucking long for your pretty mouth, you were gagging. He didn't let go until he reached his highs, cumming all over your mouth. he pulled your face away to see if you were fine, but the sight caught him off-guard.

You were panting prettily, mouth opened with his cum evident in between your lips, dripping like honey. But you didn't let it drip anywhere, you swallowed his hot load, wiping your lips. 

Fuck. And he's fucking hard again.

Jeonghan doesn't usually have a high sex drive, but now that told a whole different story. He pulled you off the floor, his fingers brushing your cheeks.

You straddled on him. He kissed your cheeks before whispering, "Safe word?"

"Fox." You replied. But before he can shift you under him, you continued—"I want to ride your cock."

Jeonghan smirked, his thumb caressing your lips. "You're full of surprises, sly fox." You were too horny to reply. Screw it, he was gorgeous, and that made you want to dominate him. "Be my guest, sweetheart."

You guided your pussy to the tip of his already pre-cum cock. But just before you prepared yourself to make him fit—thinking of how it would probably hurt a little because of how big he was, Jeonghan held your hips before slamming it down his cock, your cunt swallowing him. The stretch was real and good you almost passed out, but you gathered yourself—you can't possibly back out now that you volunteered to do all the work. You knew Jeonghan would just tease you after this.

"Shit. Pussy's fuckin' made for me," he grunted, his chest falling in and out. You grinded yourself, his hot balls making you bounce on him. 

"Such a pretty slut." He watched your body bounce, tits bouncing so prettily as your moans matched the squelch of your pussy was making.

You were bouncing on his cock fast, his cock buried deep in your pussy. It reached your g-spot and it made you stop there, pulling yourself deeper, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Jeonghan grunted, whimpering as he held your hips in place, lifting you up before slamming your cunt hard in him again, it made you moan loudly.

"I- I'm cumming, hannie!" You panted. Jeonghan felt your walls gripping his cock, he furrowed his brows before moving your hips up and down to reach his highs. And just like that, you cummed all over his cock, it didn't take him long before his hot load came. He took his cock out of you, cumming all over your stomach. 

"Fuck, you feel so good," He says, carrying you under him, locking you in between his arms. "You're so fucking pretty I want my cock inside you forever."

You were processing things blinking a few times to him before his hardened cock—was inside you again, making you breath out a moan. 

"You rode me so well." He panted out, fucking your pretty little pussy recklessly but deliberately. "But I want to fuck you mercilessly."

He slammed his cock in and out of you so hard you squirted for the second time. "A- anghh !!" You moaned, your eyes rolling. "F- fuck me hard, sir!" You moaned out.

Jeonghan was panting heavily, the sudden nickname caught him off guard. "Insatiable slut." He slammed his cock so hard you were on the verge of cumming. He continued rutting inside you, with a one hard thrust, he cummed. His hot semen coating your pretty hot walls. You cummed after.

But the man didn't stop there. He was down bad for you he didn't hold himself back. He rose your legs up, making it rest on his shoulders before entering your cunt again, balls slamming your fucked up pussy as you swallowed him well.

"Fuck.... So fucking good." He muttered, pounding on your cunt like there was no tomorrow. "S- Sir! I'm cumming!" You moaned, his hands holding your thighs down so you won't have to move much. "Cum all over my cock, sweetheart." He replied, raising one of your legs so he can get a better angle of fucking in you. 

He slammed his cock hard in you, his hips pounding in and out of you, your pussy squelches over his cock.

Jeonghan made one last thrust, putting pressure between your hips until your walls tightened. He took his cock out cumming all over your stomach as you finally cummed.

You were breathing heavily, body trembling as Jeonghan's body fall beside you.

Weren't the two of you supposed to have lunch? Then why had you ended up on a bed, bare skin against sheets, your body aching after Jeonghan had worked you to exhaustion. It wasn't just the number of rounds—although those alone had left you trembling—it was the fact that you hadn't stopped him. No, you hadn't even wanted to. But why?

Why had things spiraled this way when just yesterday, it had been Wonwoo who'd left his marks on you? And now here you were, letting Jeonghan—your boss, of all people—drag you into a mess you weren't sure you could untangle.

You sat up gingerly, the soreness of your cunt pulling at your every movement, watching as Jeonghan knelt beside the bed. He was quiet as he ran a freshly dampened towel over your thighs, his touch softer than you expected.

"You don't have to clean me up. I can do it myself," you muttered, your cheeks burning.

Jeonghan smirked, though he didn't stop wiping at your skin. "Sure you can. But I'm the one who fucked you earlier, and I'm not about to leave you like this. Especially since you'll just go back smelling like me and let those vultures at work run wild with it."

You opened your mouth to argue but paused. He was right—he was infuriatingly always right—and lately, he'd been treading carefully as though protecting you from something. But why? What was he playing at?

Chuckling lightly, you ran your fingers through his soft, slightly tousled hair. "I don't get it. In the middle of the day, you pull me into some random, bougie place I've never even heard of, and then—this? What's up, Jeonghan?"

He tilted his head thoughtfully before replying, his gaze softening for a fraction of a second. "Honestly... I don't know either."

The words hung between you as he trailed the towel along your collarbone, his movements slow and deliberate. He finally met your eyes, his breath hot against your face, and you hated how effortlessly captivating he was.

Unable to resist, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was gentle at first, testing, but when Jeonghan didn't pull back, it deepened into something that stole your breath and left your lips swollen all over again.

When he pulled away, his voice was low, teasing. "Let's prove your co-workers just how wrong they are." He put your clothes over your body again, handing the rest of your clothes.

You blinked, his words snapping you out of the daze as you covered yourself up. "Prove them wrong? How?"

Jeonghan smirked as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "They said you slept with me to get this job. Let's show them that if we did sleep together, it's only now—and it's because I wanted to ruin you in a completely different way."

By the time you arrived back at work, two hours had passed, and every pair of eyes in the office practically burned into you. You could hear the whispers again, loud enough that they were obviously meant for you.

"See? I told you." "She's shameless. Bet she skipped the interview process entirely and went straight to Jeonghan's bed." "I'd kill to know what tricks she used to get where she is."

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you followed Jeonghan into the building. He walked ahead of you like he always did, tall and unbothered, but you didn't miss the way his sharp gaze flicked briefly toward the gossipers. He could stop this. He probably wanted to. But you weren't going to let him. This was yours to handle.

You stopped in your tracks, giving Jeonghan's sleeve a subtle tug. He paused, glancing back at you. "I've got this," you murmured, a sly smile tugging at your lips.

Turning toward the group, you walked over with a calm, measured confidence that instantly silenced them. You raised an eyebrow, your tone dripping with mock curiosity. "Oh, please. Don't stop on my account. You were saying?"

One of the women—bold enough to meet your eyes—crossed her arms. "We were just... wondering how someone like you manages to stick around here. Must be nice to have such... connections."

You smiled sweetly, though your eyes glinted dangerously. "Connections, huh? Interesting take. But you're right—it's been an uphill battle. Not everyone can stay in the same position for years while letting the same tired poses get approved in photoshoots. What's that phrase? Oh, right—bare minimum energy."

The color drained from her face, but you didn't stop there.

"By the way," you added, your tone light but cutting, "if you have so much free time to monitor my life, maybe I should suggest Jeonghan cut your workload. He loves people who are efficient, after all."

The woman opened her mouth to retort, but you waved her off with a laugh. "Relax. I'm joking. Maybe."

Jeonghan reappeared behind you then, his voice smooth but carrying an edge. "Is there a problem here?"

You glanced over your shoulder, flashing him a knowing smile. "Not at all. Just clearing up some... misunderstandings. Right, ladies?"

The group muttered something incoherent before scrambling back to their desks.

As you turned to walk away, Jeonghan leaned close, his breath warm against your ear. "Remind me to let you handle all my PR scandals. You're ruthless."

You smirked, shooting him a playful glare. "I told you I've got this."

And just like that, you walked back to your desk, head high, leaving the entire office wondering just how they'd underestimated you for so long.

The rest of the day passed in a strange haze of triumph and simmering tension. The office was quieter now, the usual hum of whispers replaced by nervous glances and hurried footsteps whenever you walked by. You didn't need their approval—hell, you didn't even want it—but silencing the chatter, even momentarily, gave you a sense of satisfaction.

Jeonghan, of course, was Jeonghan. He had spent the remainder of the afternoon flitting between meetings and casually dropping by your workspace, leaning against your desk like he owned the entire building (which, to be fair, wasn't entirely wrong). Each time, his eyes lingered a little too long, his smirk a little too knowing.

By the time the clock struck six, you were more than ready to head home. But as you gathered your things, Jeonghan's voice cut through the silence of the nearly empty office.

"Leaving already?"

You glanced up, finding him standing in the doorway of his office, his jacket slung casually over one shoulder. He looked as put-together as ever, but there was something in his expression that gave you pause—something unreadable.

"It's late," you replied, forcing your voice to remain steady. "I figured you'd be the first to kick me out."

Jeonghan chuckled, stepping closer until he was standing just in front of your desk. He placed a hand on the surface, leaning in slightly. "And miss the chance to give you a ride home? That doesn't sound like me."

You narrowed your eyes, already sensing the trap. "I can manage, thanks."

"Don't be stubborn," he said smoothly. "You've had a long day. Consider it a peace offering for earlier."

Earlier. As if that entire thing hadn't left you questioning every decision you'd made in the past 48 hours.

Still, there was no winning against Jeonghan when he got like this, and you were too tired to argue. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed your bag and followed him to the elevator.

The ride down was silent, save for the soft hum of the elevator music. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor numbers as they ticked by, trying to ignore the way Jeonghan's presence filled the small space.

It wasn't until you were in his car, the city lights blurring past the windows, that he finally broke the silence.

"You know," he began, his tone almost conversational, "you handled those gossiping idiots pretty well today."

You glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. "Were you expecting me to cry in the bathroom instead?"

He smirked. "Not exactly. But I have to admit, watching you put them in their place was... entertaining."

"I'm glad my misery is amusing to you."

"Don't twist my words." He turned to you briefly, his expression softening. "I meant it. You were impressive. People like that—they don't deserve your energy."

For a moment, you didn't know what to say. Compliments from Jeonghan were rare, and hearing him say something so genuine left you oddly unsettled.

"Thanks," you muttered, turning to look out the window.

The car fell silent again, but this time, it wasn't uncomfortable. When he finally pulled up in front of your building, you hesitated before reaching for the door handle.

"Jeonghan," you began, glancing at him, "why... why are you doing all this?"

He tilted his head, his eyes locking with yours. "Doing what?"

"This." You gestured vaguely between the two of you. "Acting like you care. Protecting me. Dragging me into... whatever the hell this is."

For a long moment, he didn't answer. Then, with a sigh, he leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair.

"Honestly?" he said, his voice quieter now. "I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't. But here we are."

You stared at him, searching his expression for any hint of insincerity. But all you saw was exhaustion, vulnerability, and something else you couldn't quite name.

"Goodnight, Jeonghan," you said softly, opening the door.

"Night," he replied, watching as you stepped out of the car and disappeared into the building.

Entering your apartment, you lazily set your bag down the table before falling onto your bed. Your body was aching from earlier—no, probably not just from how Jeonghan fucked you bad, but Wonwoo too, last night. You had sex in two nights streak, of course your body would ache. 

You opened your phone—though you wanted to sleep already, you still had to check on your schedule for streams tomorrow since it was sunday, you had really nothing much to do. Then you received a discord notification popped up. It was Hoshi spamming your username on one of the servers. You didn't want to open the app, you were too exhausted to even deal with Hoshi's godforsaken childishness, but you opened it anyways. 

#general ho5hi_kwon: @/kitsunya  ho5hi_kwon: Are you free tomorrow? We're gonna watch a LOL competition, Wonwoo, Jun, Minghao, and Vernon's playing. dk_is_dokyeom: Dude stop forcing her to come all the time dk_is_dokyeom: Do you like her or something 😏 ho5hi_kwon: NAH. YOU LIKED HER.  pledis_boos: We all know, Seokmin. We all know

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. These idiots. Whenever the three were in the same room, it'd always end up being chaotic.

Then there was that. Your thoughts wandered back to those days—Seokmin's shy smile when he confessed under the cherry blossom trees, his constant efforts to make you laugh, his warm hugs when you were at your lowest. You'd loved him, in your own way, but breaking up had been your only option. Your life had been a mess back then, and dragging him down with you was something you refused to do.

You shook the memories away and glanced back at the chat. Seokmin was probably sulking already. He always did when the teasing went too far, you couldn't bear to see your high school sweetheart get involved in your mess. 

But now, he isn't the type to be teased like this. You knew he'd sulk real hard and maybe not even talk to Hoshi or Seungkwan for a couple of days.

You chatted on the server once their fighting has cooled down.

#general kitsunya: yea, sure, ill go kitsunya: send me the details ho5hi_kwon: I already sent the link. Don't dare be late.

You locked your phone and let it drop onto your bed. Why had you agreed to go? You didn't even know. Maybe it was exhaustion clouding your judgment. Maybe you just didn't want to be alone with your thoughts of Jeonghan or Wonwoo.

The next morning, your alarm kept ringing. God knows how many times you already pressed the infamous snooze button. But then you remembered, The LoL competition was starting 12 pm. You checked the time on your phone—10:57 am. You groaned before dragging yourself from the comfort of your bed. 

You took your sweet time in the shower, glancing at the clock it was 11:32 already. Who cares if you were late. It's not like anyone would care. 

You took your time drying your hair and picking out your outfit—a simple gray cardigan layered over a black tank top, paired with baggy black cargo pants and sleek white Converse. To top it off, you slung pastel red headphones around your neck, adding a subtle pop of color. Afterward, you finished with your usual makeup routine, keeping it effortless yet polished.

One last check in front of the mirror, you grabbed your shoulder bag and your phone before Dm-ing Hoshi.

[DM] - hamster freak You: im going to be a little late  Hoshi: Thanks for the information. You're already 37 minutes late by the way, did you forget to set an alarm or something? Hoshi: Youre mean. You: dw baby, miss me already? Hoshi: ... You know what, you don't need to come after all. Hoshi: I don't want to see you You: aw stop ure making me want to go  You: ill be there to haunt you <3

You took out a small chuckle before you walked your way to the parking lot to enter your car. 

You arrived at the venue. And guess who's waiting for you outside the place? Hoshi.

"The hell? How long have you been waiting here?" You asked as you approached him.

He shrugged. "I thought you'd arrive 5 minutes ago, and I was with Jihoon, he went to grab us a few snacks."

"Wow, Woozi would really do something for you?" 

"No, he lost a game." He grinned. And you chuckled lightly.

As Woozi gets back, holding a bag of snacks with him, a frown on his face, Hoshi grabbed lollipops, handing one over to you. 

You grabbed the lollipop, popping it into your mouth. "Hey Mr. tofu," you greeted with a smile.

"Please don't call me that ever again," Woozi replied with a sigh. Your grin widened. Teasing him always seemed to be your favorite thing to do. You remember teasing him so hard on a stream once that he left the voice chat.

"It suits you," Hoshi chimed in biting on the candies. 

You offered to carry some of the bag, but Woozi didn't let you. He can't have a girl help him.

The three of you entered the venue and it didn't take long when you finally met up with the rest of the group. Jun and Minghao were so focused on their computers, playing an LoL 1v1 before the competition started. Vernon was sitting on one of the couches, talking to his girlfriend. And Wonwoo? He was nowhere to be found. Why were you even looking for him in the first place?

"If it isn't for Ms. Fox." You turned to see Seungkwan. A unamused smile crept through your lips. "Oh, it's just you." You replied, earning a chuckle from Hoshi.

"At least I'm not out looking for Wonwoo," Seungkwan replied. You scoffed—hell if that's even true (it is).

You rolled your eyes at Seungkwan's comment but didn't dignify it with a response. Instead, you plopped onto the nearest chair, leaning back as you popped the lollipop back into your mouth.

"You know," Seungkwan continued, sitting on the armrest beside you, "for someone who's 'not looking for Wonwoo,' you sure keep glancing around a lot."

"Get a hobby, Boo," you shot back, smirking at the way his face fell into mock offense.

Jun and Minghao, oblivious to the banter, were still locked in their intense 1v1, their focus unwavering. Hoshi, now sitting cross-legged on the floor, had already started opening a second lollipop, while Woozi muttered something under his breath about "children" as he sat beside him. Vernon, still on the couch, gave you a small wave before turning back to talk to his girlfriend.

You stayed there for a while, trying to relax, but the energy in the room was buzzing—both from the impending competition and your own thoughts. Wonwoo was still nowhere to be seen, and despite your best efforts to ignore it, you couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to find him.

"Be right back," you said, standing up and stretching.

"Where are you going?" Seungkwan called after you.

"To mind my business. You should try it," you quipped, earning a chorus of laughter from the others.

You wandered out of the room, letting the chatter and laughter fade behind you as you strolled through the venue. The place was massive—crowds of gamers and fans gathered around booths and screens, the excitement almost infectious. But you weren't here to browse or soak in the energy. Your feet seemed to move on their own, taking you toward a quieter hallway at the back of the venue.

That's when you saw him.

Wonwoo was leaning against a wall near an emergency exit, his face illuminated by the faint glow of his phone. He looked relaxed, but there was a tension in his posture that only you, someone who knew him well enough, could notice.

You hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. He didn't look up, but his voice reached you before you could say anything.

"Looking for me?" he asked, his tone calm but carrying that hint of amusement that always managed to throw you off.

You stopped in your tracks, crossing your arms as you leaned casually against the opposite wall. "And what if I was?" you replied, your voice dripping with nonchalance.

Wonwoo finally looked up, his gaze meeting yours. There was something unreadable in his eyes, a mix of curiosity and something deeper you couldn't quite place. "Then I'd say you've found me," he said, slipping his phone into his pocket.

Silence stretched between you, not awkward but heavy enough to make your chest feel tight. You couldn't help but let your eyes roam over him—the way his black hoodie hung loosely on his frame, the faint scruff on his jaw that somehow made him look even more attractive. Damn him.

"You disappeared," you said finally, breaking the silence.

"Needed some air," he replied, his voice low. "Didn't think anyone would come looking."

"Well," you started, pushing off the wall and stepping closer, "I wasn't exactly looking for you. Just needed a break from Seungkwan's mouth."

Wonwoo smirked, the corner of his lips curling in that infuriatingly subtle way of his. "Sure," he said, his tone laced with doubt.

You rolled your eyes, stepping past him toward the door. "Don't flatter yourself, Jeon," you tossed over your shoulder, reaching for the door handle.

But before you could pull it open, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly. The contact sent a jolt through you, and you froze, turning to look at him.

"Stay," he said softly, his eyes searching yours.

You hesitated, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place. His hand was warm against your wrist, and for a moment, the world outside the room ceased to exist. It was just you and him, caught in a moment that felt far too intimate for two people who supposedly had nothing unresolved between them. Supposedly.

"Why?" you asked, your voice softer than you intended, almost a whisper.

Wonwoo's thumb brushed against your skin absentmindedly, and he looked away for a second, as if gathering his thoughts. "Because I don't want to be alone right now," he admitted, the honesty in his tone catching you off guard.

Your heart clenched, and for reasons you couldn't explain, you stayed. You let the door close and leaned back against it, crossing your arms as you tried to regain some semblance of control over the situation. "Fine," you said casually, though your pulse betrayed you by racing like you'd just run a marathon. "But you're buying me dinner after this."

He huffed out a quiet laugh, his usual stoicism cracking just a little. "Deal."

The two of you stood there for a while, the silence settling again but this time less suffocating, more like a fragile truce. Wonwoo leaned back against the wall, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, and you couldn't help but notice how the dim light softened his features, making him look almost vulnerable.

"You know," you said finally, breaking the quiet, "you're not exactly the easiest person to read."

"Good," he replied without missing a beat. "Keeps things interesting."

You let out a dry laugh. "For who? You? Because everyone else just ends up confused."

Wonwoo's lips twitched into another smirk, but his eyes stayed serious as they locked onto yours. "Not everyone. You're not as confused as you think."

Your breath hitched, and you hated how easily he got under your skin, how he always seemed to know just the right thing to say to leave you teetering on the edge of something you weren't ready to name.

"Maybe I'm just good at pretending," you shot back, narrowing your eyes slightly.

He pushed off the wall and took a step closer, closing the already small space between you. You had nowhere to go, your back pressed against the door, and the air felt heavier with each passing second. His presence was overwhelming, but you refused to back down.

"Maybe," he said quietly, his face just inches from yours now. "But I don't think you're pretending right now."

Before you could respond, his hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, the gesture so unexpected and gentle it made your chest tighten all over again. His fingers lingered for a moment, grazing your cheek, and you hated the way your body reacted to his touch, how your resolve seemed to melt under his intense gaze.

"Wonwoo," you began, your voice wavering.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his voice so low it sent shivers down your spine.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but no words came. Instead, you found yourself leaning into him, the tension snapping as his lips captured yours in a kiss that was equal parts soft and demanding.

It was nothing like the heated night you two shared before. There was no hurried desperation, no reckless abandon. This was slower, deeper, as if he was trying to say all the things he couldn't put into words. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you didn't resist. Couldn't resist.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and slightly dazed, he rested his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you in place.

"Still pretending?" he asked, his voice tinged with a rare vulnerability.

You didn't answer. Instead, you closed the gap between you again, kissing him like you were trying to drown out all the questions swirling in your mind. For now, answers could wait.

The kiss deepened, your arms wrapped around his neck, his hand gripping your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, pulling you closer as his tongue teased yours.

It was just yesterday when Jeonghan had you shivering under him. And now here you were, entangled with Wonwoo, kissing him like nothing had happened with Jeonghan. It felt wrong. But then again... was there anything to feel wrong about? Did you and Jeonghan even have a thing? Did this—whatever this was—mean anything? 

Two men? Really? Neither of them knows you've been fucking with them alternatively like they're just some kind of toy for you. You didn't want that at all.

YYou pulled away, your breath hitching as your cheeks flushed hot. Wonwoo's dark gaze lingered on you, searching your face as though he could see the questions swirling in your mind.

 "What exactly is this..?" you asked, your voice a little more unsteady than you'd hoped.

Wonwoo hesitated, leaning back slightly. His arms caged you against the door, the space between you just wide enough for the tension to thrum. "What do you want it to be?" 

He didn't answer at all, it only made you even more confused. "I asked first." 

"Then I won't answer. So tell me," he said, his voice steady but edged with something you couldn't quite place. "What exactly do you want this to be?"

The question made your breath catch. It was as though he already knew the answer but wanted you to say it first. "I wouldn't have asked if I knew," you murmured, more to yourself than him.

Wonwoo exhaled sharply through his nose, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "Then figure it out." He stepped back slightly, his posture relaxing as he leaned against the wall, pulling his phone from his pocket. "You're lying again." He added before turning away completely.

It felt like a dismissal, one that stung more than it should have.

"I'm leaving," you said, your tone sharper than intended as you moved toward the door.

But his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"You're not even gonna wish me good luck?" he called out, his tone light, teasing, almost mockingly casual.

You glanced back at him, narrowing your eyes. "I came to see you lose," you shot back, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "And for the record, I'm not your girlfriend."

You stuck your tongue out for good measure before turning on your heel and walking away quickly, leaving no room for him to reply.

Wonwoo watched you disappear, his expression unreadable. But as the door clicked shut behind you, he let out a low chuckle.

"... Yet," he murmured under his breath, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. You said what you said, and you knew it would trigger him to admitting first.

By the time you made it back to the group, Seungkwan was mid-rant, Hoshi laughing so hard he nearly dropped his soda. Jun and Minghao had moved on from their 1v1 and were watching the pre-match highlights on the screen. Vernon was still on the couch, this time half-listening to Seungkwan while scrolling on his phone.

"Oh, look who finally decided to show up," Seungkwan said the moment he spotted you, his voice dripping with mock sarcasm. "Where've you been, Ms. Fox? Lurking in the shadows, plotting our downfall?"

You rolled your eyes, plopping down onto the chair next to Hoshi. "I don't need to lurk in shadows to take you down, Seungkwan. Your mouth does that for me."

The group burst into laughter, Hoshi nearly choking on his drink. "She's got a point," Minghao quipped, smirking.

"Wow, so much for team spirit," Seungkwan shot back, clutching his chest dramatically. "What did I ever do to deserve such cruelty?"

"You existed," you replied with a smirk, earning a high-five from Hoshi.

The banter continued for a while, light and easy, until the sound of a door clicking open made everyone pause.

Wonwoo walked in.

He moved with his usual calm, unbothered demeanor, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. His gaze swept across the room, landing on you for just a moment longer than necessary.

"Ah, here he is, the man of the hour!" Hoshi cheered, throwing a potato chip in Wonwoo's direction. "Ready to crush some noobs?"

Wonwoo ignored him, his lips twitching in a small smile as he walked over to where you sat. Leaning down slightly, he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear, "Miss me already?"

Your breath hitched, but you quickly masked it with a scoff. "You wish."

His smirk deepened, and before you could say anything else, he pulled up a chair beside you, his knee brushing yours under the table.

The others, oblivious to the tension, resumed their chatter, but you couldn't shake the way his proximity sent your nerves into overdrive.

"You good?" Hoshi asked, tilting his head at you.

"Perfect," you said, forcing a smile.

But then Wonwoo spoke again, this time louder. "You know," he began, his tone casual but his eyes locked on yours, "she was pretty sweet earlier. Didn't think she'd have it in her."

The room went quiet, all eyes snapping to you.

"Sweet?" Seungkwan repeated, narrowing his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

You glared at Wonwoo, your face heating up. "He's delusional. Ignore him."

"Am I?" Wonwoo teased, leaning back in his chair with a smug expression.

Before you could retort, Hoshi interjected. "Hold on. Are we missing something here? Why does it feel like there's... something going on?"

"There's nothing going on," you said quickly, shooting a warning glare at Wonwoo.

Wonwoo raised his hands in mock surrender, but the glint in his eyes told you he wasn't done. For the rest of the conversation, he kept it subtle—fleeting glances, the occasional brush of his hand against yours, a smirk every time your eyes met. It was enough to drive you insane.

The others weren't blind. Seungkwan, especially, was watching the two of you like a hawk. "Something's definitely up," he muttered to Vernon, who just nodded, looking mildly amused.

And then the door opened again.

Jeonghan strolled in, effortlessly commanding the room as always. He greeted everyone with his usual charm, but when his eyes landed on you, something flickered in his expression.

"Ah, there's my favorite," Jeonghan said smoothly, his voice laced with a warmth that felt far too intimate for comfort.

You stiffened, your eyes darting to Wonwoo, whose jaw tightened ever so slightly.

"Late as usual," Jeonghan added, walking over and placing a hand on the back of your chair. His fingers brushed lightly against your shoulder, and you could feel the weight of his gaze.

"Traffic," you replied, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing.

"Mm," Jeonghan hummed, his eyes lingering on you before shifting to Wonwoo. "Good luck today, Wonwoo. I'm sure she'll be cheering for you."

The tension was palpable. Wonwoo's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't rise to the bait.

"Of course," Wonwoo said, his voice calm but edged with something sharper. "She's already wished me luck in her own... special way."

Jeonghan's smile didn't falter, but his gaze grew sharper as it flicked back to you. "Is that so?"

You wanted to crawl under the table.

"Alright, that's enough," you said, standing abruptly. "I'm going to grab some air before this testosterone overload suffocates me."

You left the room quickly, feeling both men's eyes on you as you went. 

The cold air outside the venue did little to clear your spinning thoughts. Leaning against the wall, you tilted your head back and took a deep breath. What the hell is wrong with me? First Wonwoo, now Jeonghan. The back-and-forth between them felt like a game you couldn't keep up with, and it was messing with your head.

Your moment of peace didn't last long. The sound of a door swinging open made you flinch. You didn't even need to look to know who it was.

"Running away again?" Jeonghan's smooth voice cut through the silence.

You sighed, keeping your gaze fixed on the sky. "Didn't know I had to explain my every move to you."

He chuckled, stepping closer until he was leaning against the wall beside you. "You don't. But it's fun watching you squirm."

You turned to glare at him, but the amusement in his eyes made it impossible to stay mad. He had that effect on people—disarming them with a single glance, making them forget why they were upset in the first place.

"Seriously, what do you want, Jeonghan?" you asked, crossing your arms.

"Just checking on you," he said, his tone casual but his eyes searching yours. "You seemed... tense back there."

"I'm fine."

"Are you?" He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. "Because from where I was standing, it looked like a certain someone was getting under your skin."

Your cheeks heated, and you immediately looked away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully, straightening up. "If you say so. Just remember..." He hesitated, a rare moment of seriousness flashing across his face. "Not everyone plays fair."

Before you could ask what he meant, the door opened again, and this time, it was Wonwoo.

His gaze flicked between the two of you, his expression unreadable. "We're starting soon," he said, his voice steady but his eyes locked on Jeonghan's hand resting casually on the wall near your shoulder.

Jeonghan smiled, stepping back with an exaggerated stretch. "Guess I'll see you both inside, then."

He walked off, leaving you alone with Wonwoo. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"You good?" Wonwoo asked after a beat.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" you muttered, brushing past him to head back inside.

The room was buzzing with excitement as the matches began. You found a seat near the back with Hoshi and Seungkwan, who were both yelling their predictions over each other.

"10,000 won (seven bucks in USD) says Minghao takes the win," Seungkwan declared, stuffing popcorn into his mouth.

"Please, it's going to be Wonwoo," Hoshi shot back.

"Don't bet your snacks. You'll lose," you said dryly, earning a laugh from Hoshi.

The first round was a chaotic storm of champions clashing across the map. Jun, known for his unconventional picks, played an unexpectedly aggressive strategy, diving into enemy territory with bold moves that had the crowd roaring in surprise. Despite his daring plays, his occasional overextensions cost him valuable objectives.

Vernon, on the other hand, played a game of precision. He focused on controlling vision and sneaking objectives, his calculated decisions earning him steady ground. Every play felt like a chess move, deliberate and cerebral.

But it was Minghao who stole the spotlight early on. His champion of choice, a mechanically complex assassin, zipped across the map with unnerving efficiency. His precision in landing skills and uncanny sense of timing had even the commentators struggling to keep up.

"Unreal!" one of them exclaimed as Minghao pulled off a near-impossible triple kill under turret. "Minghao is playing like a pro today. That's a highlight reel moment right there!"

Then there was Wonwoo. His gameplay was as smooth and methodical as ever, every move calculated to perfection. His champion, a versatile mage, danced on the edge of danger, dishing out massive damage while dodging death by a hair's breadth. The way he controlled team fights, predicting his opponents' moves, was mesmerizing.

Yet, from your spot in the audience, something felt... off.

The tournament narrowed to the final rounds, the competition growing fiercer with each game. Minghao, Wonwoo, and Hyeina (Vernon's girlfriend), the other contestant dominated her brackets, while Jun and Vernon made valiant efforts but fell behind.

In the semifinals, Minghao and Wonwoo clashed head-on. Every moment was charged, the room so quiet during team fights that you could hear the players' keyboards clicking like gunfire.

Minghao's assassin darted through the shadows, targeting Wonwoo's backline with surgical precision. But Wonwoo's mage held its ground, zoning Minghao out with well-placed spells. The two traded kills and counterplays, the audience bouncing between gasps and cheers as the scoreboard evened out.

At one point, Minghao narrowly escaped a death trap Wonwoo had meticulously set, slipping away with a sliver of health. The crowd erupted in disbelief, and even Minghao, usually composed, let a small grin slip as he glanced across the row of PCs toward Wonwoo.

"Nice try," Minghao teased, loud enough for Wonwoo to hear but quiet enough not to catch the commentators' attention.

Wonwoo didn't respond, his jaw clenched and eyes fixed on the screen.

The Final Match

The finals arrived. The match pitted Minghao, Wonwoo, and Hyeina against one another in a free-for-all deathmatch—a battle royale to crown the victor.

The atmosphere was electric. Spectators leaned forward in their seats, their excitement palpable.

As the game unfolded, it became clear this wasn't just about skill. It was about mental fortitude. Minghao's assassin thrived in the chaos, darting in and out of fights with deadly precision. The pro player focused on controlling the map, securing key objectives to maintain his lead.

Wonwoo, however, was visibly different. While his plays were sharp, there was a hesitation in his movements. It was subtle, but you noticed it.

And then it happened.

In the middle of a crucial team fight near Baron, Wonwoo's mage was in the perfect position to deal a devastating combo. His team was counting on him. The enemy champions grouped together, a rare opening for a game-changing attack.

But his eyes flickered—just for a second—to the audience. To you.

More specifically, to Jeonghan.

You hadn't noticed until now, but Jeonghan's arm rested casually on the back of your chair, his body angled just slightly toward yours. It wasn't overtly intimate, but it was enough to draw Wonwoo's attention.

His hand hesitated on the keyboard. That split-second pause was all it took.

Minghao, ever opportunistic, dove into the fight with precision. His assassin eliminated Wonwoo's mage in seconds, turning what could've been Wonwoo's moment of glory into a crushing defeat.

"Unbelievable! Minghao secures the ace!" the commentator shouted, the audience exploding into cheers.

As the game ended, the results flashed on the screen:

1st Place: Minghao

2nd Place: Wonwoo

3rd Place: Hyeina

4th Place: Vernon

5th Place: Jun

Minghao leaned back in his chair, arms raised in triumph as the crowd cheered his name. Jun clapped enthusiastically, shouting something about how "he taught Minghao everything he knows."

Wonwoo, meanwhile, sat frozen at his station, his fingers still hovering over the keys. His jaw tightened as he stared at the screen, the weight of his loss sinking in.

After the tournament, the group gathered near the exit, congratulating Minghao on his win.

"You were insane out there!" Hoshi exclaimed, clapping Minghao on the back.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Seungkwan said, waving him off. "The real story here is what happened to Wonwoo? You totally choked in that last fight."

"I didn't choke," Wonwoo said, his tone sharper than usual.

"Sure," Seungkwan teased. "It's not like you were distracted or anything." His eyes darted to you, a sly grin spreading across his face.

You glared at him. "Don't start."

"Don't start what? I didn't say anything!"

Wonwoo, who had been silent, finally spoke up. "Let it go, Seungkwan." His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that made everyone shut up.

The awkward silence that followed was broken by Jeonghan's arrival. He walked in with his usual confidence, his eyes briefly meeting Wonwoo's before landing on you.

"Ready to head out?" Jeonghan asked, his tone light but pointed.

You hesitated, glancing at Wonwoo, whose expression was unreadable.

"Yeah," you said finally, grabbing your bag. "Let's go."

As you walked out with Jeonghan, you couldn't shake the feeling of Wonwoo's eyes on your back.

The walk back with Jeonghan is heavier than you anticipated. He doesn't outright tease you like he usually does—instead, his tone shifts to something uncharacteristically serious as he brings up Wonwoo's reaction during the match.

"You know," Jeonghan starts, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets, "he's never been that distracted before. I almost feel bad for him."

"Feel bad?" you scoff, trying to ignore the pang of guilt his words stir in you.

Jeonghan stops walking, turning to face you. "I get it, though. You're... hard to ignore." His gaze softens, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

"Jeonghan..."

He steps closer, closing the space between you. His voice lowers, intimate, almost a whisper. "I'm not like him. I don't get distracted. When I want something, I take it."

Before you can process his words, his phone buzzes. He glances at the screen and smirks. "Saved by the bell. Let's get back to the others before they start a search party."

The moment passes, leaving you reeling as you follow him back inside.

The group gathered after the tournament, energy high from the event. Seungkwan and Hoshi were relentless, teasing Wonwoo about his second-place finish.

"Come on, man," Seungkwan said, grinning. "Second place isn't that bad. It's just, you know... not first."

Hoshi chimed in, "And hey, at least you didn't lose to Vernon's girlfriend! Minghao's cool with it too. That's gotta count for something."

Wonwoo forced a smile, but his usual sharp comebacks were absent. His eyes flickered to you once, twice, before he finally stood and excused himself.

Minghao, ever observant, leaned toward you. "You okay?"

You nodded quickly, brushing it off. But as your gaze followed Wonwoo's retreating figure, you couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your chest.

"Minghao, the champion," Vernon announced dramatically, using his phone to film the moment. "First place for only the second-best LoL player in the room!"

Minghao rolled his eyes, pushing Vernon off. "Shut up, Vernon. You're just mad because you got fourth."

"Hey, fourth is still a medal," Vernon protested, holding up an imaginary gold medal and waving it in Minghao's face. "You know what they say, bronze is for champions too!"

"Fifth, Vernon. Fifth." Jun deadpanned, smacking Vernon on the back of the head. "Don't act like you didn't lose to your girlfriend."

"Not the point, Jun." Vernon sighed dramatically, turning to Woozi for backup, but Woozi, who'd been too busy sinking into his chair post-tournament, just shrugged. "Maybe next time, Vernon."

Meanwhile, Wonwoo, still nursing his second-place loss, had moved to the back of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His eyes flickered from his phone to you and back again, each glance slightly more pained than the last.

Seungkwan, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. "Hey, Wonwoo! Don't be too upset about second place. At least you didn't lose to a noob."

"I didn't lose to a noob," Wonwoo muttered, glancing up at Seungkwan. "Minghao's practically a legend in his own right. It's just..."

"Just what?" Seungkwan grinned mischievously, nudging him. "You distracted by someone else on the sidelines?"

Wonwoo froze, his eyes widening for a split second before he forced a grin. "What are you talking about?" he said, pushing away from the wall to join the others, a little too quickly. "I'm fine."

"You're not fooling anyone," Seungkwan shot back, arching an eyebrow. "I saw you practically zoned out when you were supposed to be taking down Minghao's assassin and then you just stared at someone—someone who happens to be sitting next to Jeonghan."

Cue the awkward silence that followed. Everyone immediately turned to look at you, then back at Wonwoo.

The heat rising to Wonwoo's cheeks was almost too funny, and you couldn't help but smirk. "I wasn't staring at anyone," he muttered, though it was obvious to everyone that he'd been thinking about something—or someone—during that match.

"Oh, please," Hoshi cut in, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's like watching a badly scripted K-drama. Wonwoo, bro, I think you might have feelings for our girl here." He wagged his eyebrows dramatically.

"Shut up, Hoshi," Wonwoo growled.

"Wow, are we really doing this now?" Minghao jumped in with an exaggerated gasp, clutching his chest. "The Love Triangle Drama: Episode 1. First place and already the star of the show!" He gave an exaggerated bow, clearly enjoying the chaos.

"You know, this tournament could've been more fun if someone didn't get all distracted by their feelings," Jun said with a wink, completely ignoring the fact that he was also in the bottom half of the rankings.

"Yeah, at least you could have gotten first if you weren't so distracted!" Vernon added helpfully. "Who needs to focus when you've got heart-eyes, right, Wonwoo?"

The entire room burst into laughter. Even Woozi, who had been trying to stay out of the conversation, snorted into his drink, making everyone laugh even harder.

Wonwoo's face turned a shade of crimson, but he could do nothing but grin sheepishly. "Okay, okay, enough. You guys are insufferable."

Just when the teasing reached its peak, the door to the room opened, and Jeonghan casually strolled in, a smug smile plastered on his face.

“Well, well, well,” he said in a voice laced with mischief, taking in the scene with a knowing look. “What have we here? A bunch of losers and an overly distracted second-place finisher?”

Wonwoo stiffened at the sound of Jeonghan’s voice, and you, suddenly aware of the charged atmosphere between the three of you, quickly stood up, trying to play it cool.

“I’m not distracted,” Wonwoo muttered under his breath, but Jeonghan was already looking at you with a knowing glint in his eye.

“Oh? You sure about that?” Jeonghan teased, eyes flicking between you and Wonwoo. “I mean, I was just sitting next to her, and someone over there couldn’t even finish a team fight without—” Jeonghan paused, throwing a glance at Wonwoo’s flushed face. “...well, we all saw it.”

Wonwoo’s face fell, the teasing from his friends now blending with the tension in the room. But before anyone could comment further, Jeonghan stepped toward you, wrapping a lazy arm around your shoulders in a move that was way too casual for the situation.

“I don’t know what all this fuss is about,” Jeonghan said, his voice smooth, his smirk never leaving his lips. “But if anyone should be distracted, it’s because I’m here now.”

Wonwoo’s gaze darkened, and you could feel the heat building in the air. The laughter from the others died down as everyone realized the shift in the mood.

“You’re really doing this, Jeonghan?” Wonwoo muttered, not bothering to mask the irritation in his tone.

Jeonghan just laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “What? Am I not allowed to stand next to my favorite teammate?”

The teasing in the room became suffocating, but the mix of humor and tension was what made it unbearable. Everyone knew what was happening. It was clear, and no one was pretending anymore.

a/n: i have nothing to say but to thank you to everyone who kept me going. want to be added to the permanent series (part-time lover) taglist? reblog or comment on the post and you'll be added to every next update of a chapter :]

(p.s. idk maybe i shouldnt have added too much angst? BTW POSTING A POLL (or shouldnt? doesnt matter)—majority wins. Jeonghan or Wonwoo? who do you much prefer to be the end game? lmk !)

taglist: @asyre @choppedballoondetective @kpoppiesofinternet @syluslittlecrow @minhui896

@october-saturn @kpop-will-kill-me @elegantdevill1 @shidily @angel-ishere

@lovrchl @codeinebelle @httpnamu-u @httpnamjoonie94 @6nadia9

@jjonghaniee @ateez-atiny380 @squishysquishjimin @jeonghaniya @thelost-soul

@foulcolorclodoaf-blog @133456789000000000000

(tysm for reblogging :3)

[bokonowriter]

Crimson & Curls - Part 6

Remmick x Fem! Reader Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Description: That night in the rain with Remmick… it was more than chance; a raw vulnerability laid bare between you and him. A mutual curiosity thrummed, a silent question about the power leashed beneath his elegant coat. And behind that devilish smile, a promise of shadowed pleasures, a darkness that whispered a dangerous invitation to your very soul. Find out, what is that devil hiding?

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

"Tell me, honey… what else are you hiding? What desires do you keep locked away? Perhaps… I can help you unleash them."

Warnings: This story contains explicit content (DO NOT INTERACT UNLESS 18+) including: oral smut, public smut, explicit language, fingering, intense sensual detail, moaning/whimpering, female orgasms, and squirting, penetration, gentle smut, biting, violence, mentions of death, character deaths, mentions of supernatural. (more will be added as the story continues).

A/N: Anyone who read part five prior to 5/31, please note that there were changes from the original post. I needed to fix it to make this upcoming chapter more smooth and apologize for any inconvenience. I hope you all enjoy the new and improved chapter and what is to come!

Crimson & Curls

THE SCENT of aged pine and damp earth still clung to your skin, even after the blessedly warm water had sluiced away the grime of yesterday. You toweled off slowly in the small, steamy washroom, your movements still feeling foreign, a strange grace you hadn't possessed before. 

Remmick had left clothes folded neatly on a wooden stool: a simple, dark cotton dress, soft and worn, and a sturdy pair of boots. You pulled them on, feeling the familiar fabric against your skin, a faint comfort in their anonymity.

Stepping back into the main room, the twilight had begun its long, slow descent. The air, once thick with apprehension, now hummed with a different kind of tension, a coiled energy that made the hairs on your arms prickle. 

Remmick was by the window, a silhouette against the fading light, his posture a study in ancient patience. Joan and Bert hovered near the hearth, their faces etched with the stark lines of worry, but their eyes held a flicker of grim resolve. They had traded their everyday wear for darker, unassuming clothes, ready to blend with the encroaching night.

Remmick turned, his gaze sweeping over you, a silent assessment. "Ready, little dove?" he murmured, his voice a low current in the quiet room.

You nodded, a surge of fierce determination pushing past the lingering uncertainty. The memory of the KKK's cruel faces, the phantom scent of smoke and hate, still burned in your mind. 

"Ready," you confirmed, your voice a firm whisper.

"Good." He gestured towards the door, the gesture encompassing Joan and Bert. "We move with the shadows. Quietly."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You slipped from the house like ghosts, the only sounds the rustle of dry leaves underfoot and the distant, ever-present song of the cicadas. The world around you transformed, the last vestiges of daylight clinging to the highest branches, leaving the forest floor steeped in indigo and charcoal. You felt a strange exhilaration in the creeping gloom, a primal satisfaction in the burgeoning darkness. Your senses sharpened; every scent, every distant whisper of wind through the pines, every beat of a wild creature's heart, amplified. 

Remmick walked beside you, a steady, anchoring presence, moving with a grace that seemed to pull the shadows around him, a silent sentinel in the burgeoning night. Joan and Bert followed closely, their steps hushed, their fear a palpable thing, yet they moved with quiet courage, their eyes constantly scanning the shadows, as if expecting not just Klansmen, but the newly turned horrors from last night to emerge, or perhaps even to question the true intentions of those who walked beside them.

The dusty road unwound like a pale ribbon through the encroaching darkness, leading to the juke joint. Up ahead, a faint, flickering glow pulsed, accompanied by the muffled strains of music and laughter—the careless, vibrant sound of life oblivious to the shadows drawing in around it.

Hidden at the edge of the treeline, the steady trickle of folk heading towards the juke joint was observed. The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of pine, damp earth, and something else—a faint, metallic tang that made newfound senses twitch. It was the scent of anticipation, of coiled violence.

Then, a low rumble, distinct from the distant thunder of the delta, grew louder, closer. Headlights sliced through the deepening gloom, crude, glaring beams cutting across the dirt road. A hulking Ford truck, mud-splattered and familiar, rattled into view, kicking up a plume of dust that billowed orange in the last dying rays of the sun. 

At the wheel, his broad shoulders filling the cab, was Hogsworth, his face a grim, determined mask as he drove the lead vehicle. Behind him, a ragged line of other trucks and cars followed, disgorging figures clad in crisp, terrifying white. The Klan had arrived. Their hateful whispers were quickly replaced by guttural shouts, a growing chorus of malice.

Panic flared in your chest, hot and sharp, but it was quickly overshadowed by a cold, protective rage. They were here. For Smoke. For Hogsworth. For all the souls gathered inside.

Before Remmick could utter a command, before Joan could whimper or Bert could even clench his fists, you moved. The world seemed to slow, the air around you a viscous current as you surged forward, not quite visible, a blur darker than the deepest shadow. Your new strength, your speed, was an intoxicating rush, a symphony of power in your limbs. Your eyes, a chilling, ethereal blue, fixed on Hogsworth's truck, the lead vehicle in this procession of terror.

The Klansmen were still dismounting, torches being lit, voices rising in hateful shouts. Hogsworth himself was just climbing out of his truck, his eyes scanning the juke joint, a cruel sneer beginning to form on his lips. Before he could even fully turn, the front door of the juke joint burst open, revealing Stack, a shotgun cradled in his arms. His face, gaunt and shadowed, was utterly devoid of expression, but his eyes, glinting with an unnatural intensity, were fixed on Hogsworth.

"Club Juke, huh…" Hogsworth drawled, his voice thick with malicious satisfaction, a sound like gravel churning in a dry well. "Grand opening last night, tonight the grand closing. Open it up!" 

He waved a meaty hand, and two cloaked figures, eager as bloodhounds, flanked him, rushing the heavy double doors that usually swung open with a welcoming groan. But the juke joint, which outwardly hummed with its forced, brittle revelry, held fast. The lock on the front door, a simple bolt, held with impossible tenacity.

"Door's locked!" one Klansman grunted, shoving harder, his breath catching with effort.

"Try the back! They couldn't have possibly locked these people in there," Hogsworth barked, his sneer beginning to falter, a flicker of irritation crossing his face.

"This one is too!" another shouted from the side of the building, his voice laced with confusion, a tremor of unease beginning to snake through the Klan's ranks.

A strange, unnatural silence descended. The Klansmen milled, their easy confidence curdling into baffled frustration. The faint, forced music from within seemed to mock them, a ghostly hum against the sudden, oppressive tension. Then, from the very heart of the juke joint, the front door burst inward with a splintering crash that echoed like a clap of doom.

There, framed in the sudden oblong of yellow light, stood Smoke. His face, usually a mask of forced cheer, was now set in grim resolve, his eyes glinting with a cold, desperate fire. He cradled a sawed-off shotgun in his arms, its twin barrels glinting dully, aimed squarely at the bewildered Klansmen.

"You brought this to our home, Uncle," Smoke's voice carried across the distance, flat and hollow, yet somehow amplified in the sudden, tense silence, like a death knell tolling across the swamp. A ripple of recognition, quickly followed by outright shock, spread through the Klansmen's ranks, leaving them momentarily petrified.

Hogsworth froze, his sneer dissolving into a mask of disbelief, then pure, unadulterated rage. "Smoke? What in God's name...?" He staggered backward, tripping over his own feet in the dust, his eyes wide with fury at the unexpected ambush.

Smoke didn't answer. He simply raised the shotgun. The roar that followed was deafening, a visceral tear through the night's fabric. A Klansman near Hogsworth crumpled, a geyser of dark crimson blossoming on his pristine white robe, painting the pristine cloth a grotesque masterpiece of sudden, shocking death.

The first gunshot was more than sound; it was a physical blow, a raw, primal command that vibrated through your very soul. It sent a shockwave of pure, instinctual hunger through you, hotter and more demanding than any fire. It wasn't the distant, theoretical hunger of a new creature; it was a primal, all-consuming beast stirring from its long, forgotten slumber within the deepest chambers of your being. The scent of fear, sharp and intoxicating, filled the air, mingling with the metallic tang of fresh blood that suddenly bloomed near Hogsworth's truck, a scent that ignited every nerve ending, every desperate, buried craving.

You stood there, rooted to the spot, watching. Your hands clenched, feeling a churning deep in the pit of your stomach. It felt like something molten was igniting inside you, a fire slowly burning through your veins as you watched the life drain from the fallen Klansman. His blood, dark and rich, pooled into the parched earth, turning it to a grim, mucky black beneath the flickering torchlight.

Then the scent called to you, a siren song sung by the very essence of life, resonating with the part of you that had lain dormant, now ravenous beyond any human understanding. It wasn't simple fear; it was the unsettling dread of a swamp creature rising from its slumber, a primal, undeniable truth thrumming a taut string within your chest until it felt ready to snap. 

The very air hummed, alive with a promise of hunger so profound, so utterly consuming, you knew, deep down, it would claim your body and soul. The raw, guttural need tore at your insides, a gnawing, aching void that demanded to be filled, to be drenched, to be sated.

The careful plan Remmick had outlined, the subtle terror, all dissolved in a hot, blinding haze. You were no longer just a protector, or a phantom, or even just yourself. You were a predator, a wolf released from winter's starve, a wild beast whose belly ached with an ancient, furious emptiness that demanded to be sated.

Remmick, sensing the monumental shift, turned to you, his hand shooting out to grasp your wrist, his grip like iron bands. "Darling, control—" he began, his voice a low, urgent rasp.

But you were too far gone. The raw power surged through you, a tide that ripped away the last vestiges of human reason, drowning his command in a flood of pure instinct. He couldn't control you—not like he could with the others last night, those newly made things still thrashing in their turning, their hunger less ancient, less absolute than yours.

You launched yourself forward, a dark blur that ceased to be seen, only felt. The Klansmen were still disoriented, stumbling, yelling, firing wildly into the shadows where they thought something might be, their fear quickly escalating into genuine, mind-shattering terror. They were prey. And you were the hunter.

You moved through them like a gale, a whirlwind of inhuman speed and brutal strength. One man, his hood askew, went down with a sickening crack as you slammed into him, his screams cut short. Another shrieked as you twisted the rifle from his grip, the metal crumpling in your hand as if it were mere clay. You didn't stop to simply disarm. The hunger demanded more. 

Your fingers, now iron talons, plunged into flesh, ripping, tearing. A fountain of warm, coppery liquid erupted, spraying your face, your clothes, an intoxicating deluge that ignited every nerve ending. You tasted the blood, thick and vital on your tongue, and it sent a shockwave through you, a euphoric, terrifying surge of power that screamed for more, more, more.

Bodies fell, their screams choked off, their white robes stained crimson in the faint, mocking light of the torches. You were a blur of motion, a force of nature unleashed, tearing, biting, rending with a ferocity that startled even yourself. Bone splintered, flesh tore, and the cries of the Klansmen turned from angry shouts to desperate, primal terror. They weren't fighting a person; they were fighting a nightmare made flesh, a creature from the deepest, darkest parts of the swamp itself.

Then, a scent, impossibly rich and vibrant, sliced through the bloody haze, striking you like a lightning bolt. Smoke. Not a face you recognized in the swirling, intoxicating madness, nor a name that registered amidst the primal thrum of your blood-soaked existence, but a scent that spoke of life, of warmth, of a pulse beating with exhilarating strength. 

A profound, aching need ripped through you—a dizzying, confusingly strong desire to bite, to turn, to make him one with this glorious, horrifying hunger that consumed you whole. It was a craving not just for sustenance, but for communion, to share this monstrous rapture, to drag him into the very darkness you had just embraced.

Your eyes, once human, now burned a stark, unnatural yellow, twin lanterns in the deepening gloom, reflecting the ravenous fire consuming you. A string of drool, thick and dark with the blood of your prey, slid down your chin, tracing a cold, sticky path across your gore-soaked face. Your dress, once dark cotton, was now a grotesque tapestry of crimson, clinging to your skin, the hot, slick liquid dripping from the hem and squelching into your boots with every predatory lurch, a squishy rhythm to your bloodlust. 

You lunged, a silent missile of pure instinct, a dark shape against the chaos, towards the source of that intoxicating scent. Smoke, standing near the juke joint door, his own face streaked with sweat and grime from the fight, saw you coming. His eyes, wide with a grief-stricken terror you barely registered, locked onto yours, not of a man seeing a monster, but a man seeing a loved one irrevocably lost to one. 

He raised his shotgun, not at the remaining Klansmen now scattering in terror, but at you, his hands trembling with a profound agony as fresh tears streamed down his face, glistening in the faint light.

Just as the cold, black barrel of the shotgun filled your vision, a breath from your forehead, a guttural roar, ancient and powerful, ripped through the night. The shotgun bucked, firing a deafening blast not at you, but towards the stars, a desperate plea to the heavens. Remmick had moved with the speed of a whisper in a hurricane. 

His hand, cold and firm as carved stone, slammed against your chin, pushing your head back, wrenching your lunge to a sickening, abrupt halt. His other hand, equally swift, clamped around the barrel of Smoke's shotgun, tearing it from his grip with a sharp, metallic clang and forcing it skyward, away from your skull, away from the devastating choice Smoke was about to make. 

The fight outside continued to rage, a cacophony of fear and fury, but in that sliver of time, the world narrowed to Remmick's iron grip, Smoke's shattered gaze, and the desperate, gnawing hunger that still clawed at your insides.

Remmick held you there, pulling you back from the abyss, his gaze piercing through the bloodlust in your eyes. He watched the last vestiges of human recognition flicker and die in your stark, yellow stare, a terrifying beauty in your primal transformation. The very air around you thrummed with a new, dark power, and for a fleeting, dangerous moment, a forgotten warmth bloomed in his chest. 

Your curls, once a deep, midnight charcoal, were now heavy with the wet, glistening sheen of spilled life, each coil clotted with the crimson hue of violence, a grotesque crown for your transformation. 

A familiar ache, an almost physical yearning that transcended centuries, coiled in his gut as he witnessed your unleashed ferocity. This raw, untamed force, this creature of savage grace… It was a vision that tore open a centuries-old wound in his soul. 

For a fleeting, agonizing instant, the world blurred, and he saw not you, but her. The same tempestuous spirit, the same untamed fire in her eyes, the same cascade of curls, now painted in the same shocking crimson. A ghost from a sun-drenched past, rising from the very soil of his memory, demanding to be seen, to be remembered, to whisper forgotten names in the wind.

He held you, pinning you against his unyielding form, whispering fiercely into your ear, words you couldn't quite decipher, but whose cadence was a desperate, familiar plea for control. The metallic tang of Smoke's blood, still so close, still called to you, a siren song echoing through the storm of your hunger. But Remmick's presence, cold and commanding, slowly began to anchor you, pulling you back from the edge of the abyss. 

He looked at you, truly looked at the crimson and curls, the wild, yellow eyes, and the echo of her face superimposed on yours. Could this desperate, broken girl, steeped in the horror of this night, truly be the impossible key? After all these endless centuries, could she finally be the one to bring her back to me? The possibility, as terrifying as it was tantalizing, seized him utterly. The answer, he knew, would either be his salvation or his final damnation.

NEXT CHAPTER>

[moghedien]

I know that Gortash being introduced as a "handsome young man" is like a joke we like to make because he is clearly not young and I might be a dyke but I'm not sure anyone actually into him would die on the hill of him being conventionally handsome either. but do we know if that was all intentional or what because I never see people talk about how the Chosen are introduced there outside of joking about it

like I'm genuinely unsure if its a side affect of Larian just saying whatever and not going back and changing with how that scene goes later, because its not just Gortash that is described in a way that seems misleading. Ketheric is also introduced as an elf when he is a half-elf. and based on how literally everything else in the game goes, elf vs half elf seems to be a distinction anyone on Faerun just inherently knows and would note, to the point that the only person who has to be corrected on the difference is a literal alien from space who hasn't met either before (Lae'zel). Not to mention the fact that Ketheric has a beard which is a very clear indication of him being a half elf, yet in that moment he's called an elf

and I want to know if this has been just like a confirmed oversight or not that maybe wasn't fixed once character designs were finalized, because I honestly want it to NOT be that. I want these questionable descriptors to be there on purpose because its actually so much more interesting. because we have to remember that these descriptions came from the Absolute, which they are in control of

like if the Absolute presents Ketheric as an elf and Gortash as a handsome young man, its so much more interesting because it means that they programmed that into her to make that be how their mind controlled cultists see them. Like Gortash wants to be this young and handsome charismatic leader, but regardless of how he looks, we know the guy ain't as young as he wants to be. Considering he sold Karlach to Zarial like a decade ago and had been working before even then for who knows how long, he might be comparable younger than Ketheric, but he's not gonna be super young. not enough to justify that being how he's described and he doesn't look it either. Handsome.....I'll keep my mouth shut.

but Ketheric being described as an elf when he very clearly is a half is more interesting to me because when we see imagery of Ketheric before he turned Sharran, he looks much more elven in features. He is clean shaven and very like stereotypical elf regardless that he isn't a full elf. and I just find it very interesting that it almost seems like this version of Ketheric he wants his adoring cultists to see him as

and its just so interesting to me that, if this was an intentional thing in the game, that apparently Gortash and Ketheric both programmed the Absolute with very specific things they wanted people to see them as when they're introduced to them. like they want to be these false versions of themselves so bad they have people who would follow them regardless brainwashed into thinking of them like that.

Idk about Orin, I don't remember what the Absolute says about her in that moment but I believe it, its true

[asmutwriter]

First Christmas (Dean x F!Reader)

DESCRIPTION: It's your first time celebrating Christmas since dating Dean. Lets just say he takes it very seriously.

A/N - Merry Christmas everyone! Hope you all have a good Christmas/solstice/Wednesday and enjoy some Dean fluff to help you celebrate

WORD COUNT: 972

One Shots / 'You Saved Me'

WARNINGS: established relationship, fluff with a light tone of more fluff

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

This story is based after the events of my series 'You Saved Me' (a Supernatural fan fiction) which I'd recommend reading before or after reading this

You roll over. Hand going to where Deans chest should be. Emphasis on the 'should'. You wink an eye open. The bed next to you completely empty. You give a small grumble. Unsure of what the time was but knowing it was way to early to be getting out of bed. Rubbing your eyes as you sit up. Squinting to see if he was in the room at all. It was dark outside. The only light coming into your room was that of the nights sky.

Not able to distinguish a figure you decide he's not in there. Reaching and grabbing for your phone to check the time. 4:07am. You were right. Way too early to be getting out of bed. You give another loud huff. Throwing the covers from your body before swinging your legs out from the warmth of your duvet.

The usual light in the hall was still on. You always had the one outside the girls room on. In case they needed the loo during the night then they could find their way to the correct place with minimal bumping into things. You could see the vague glow illuminating the upstairs corridor and falling into the hall down here. You look to the end of the hallway. Noting the light on in the living area.

Making your way sleepily down. Entering the room you see Dean sat at the dining room table. His gaze glancing up as he watches some cartoon on TV he has on in the living room. Muted with the subtitles on as to not disturb you or your daughters upstairs.

"Dean?" you whisper his name. He quickly turns to face you at hearing your voice. Turning back as he moves the wrapping he was using to hide the objects on the table. Paying the items no mind as you tiredly look at him. "What are you doing up at 4 in the morning?" He stands. Giving you a small cheeky smile as he glances downwards before looking back up at you.

"Well..." he coughs slightly. Looking back up. Trying and failing to act cool at the question. "I realised its Christmas in two days and I hadn't wrapped up the gifts I have for you or the girls... I decided to do it tonight as I know we'll likely be up late tomorrow and I won't have time but I wanted to do it before the morning so I could hide them properly". You smile at the cuteness of his notion. Going over to him you rest a hand onto his upper arm. Looking up into his green eyes as he looks down towards you.

"That is incredibly sweet". You take in a small breath. "If you want to wrap presents up then you can do it in the day. Say you need to borrow the bedroom or something and take everything into there. It saves you getting up at this time in the morning to do wrapping for us".

"But you or Anna or Lydia might suspect what I'm doing and try and look". You give a small chuckle. Nodding as you keep his steady gaze.

"I get what you mean about the girls". You scratch your head. Looking downwards slightly. Stroking down the hair your just dishevelled. Not that it overly mattered due to your already existing bed head. Looking back up at him. Giving a soft smile. "Have you wrapped everything up for me?" He gives you a blank look. Obviously saying no without the word coming from his mouth. You nod. "Ok". you go over to the kitchen. Continuing to speak as you walk to a drawer. "How about-" Grabbing out a plastic bag. Shutting the drawer shut again. Softly as to try and remain quiet so you don't wake the girls. He tries and shields your eyes from the gifts behind him with his body. Exaggerating his arms outwards. You walk back over to him. Holding the bag towards him.

"Put everything for me into here". He looks at the bag then back at you. Gently taking it from your grasp. You turn your back. Covering your hands over your eyes. Hearing shuffling as he moves everything in. A minute passes. Feeling him lightly tap your shoulder. Taking that as your cue to turn ack around and uncover your eyes. Which you do. A very noticeable bag shoved under the table but you pay it no attention. You never did have the desire to find out your presents were before you got them. "Can I look now?" he nods. Moving out your way. Seeing a few gifts already wrapped. Names scribbled into them. Smiling as you see ones for your children. You pick up the newspaper from the table. Raising your brow at him. He gives a sheepish smile. A small exhale of a laugh leaving his lips as he looks almost embarrassed.

"I couldn't find any proper paper". You give a laugh. Putting the paper back down as you go into the hallway and to the stairs. Going into the cupboard beneath it. Turning the small overhead light on as you try and locate the items you want. Smiling at your success. Grabbing out the festive paper and fancy labels. Going back over to the table and plopping them down. "You are a life saver". You laugh. Picking up a stuffed Olaf toy. Moving him to face Dean. Raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Let me guess. Anna?" He nods.

"She told me that she loves that movie and that Olaf is her favourite character so I'm not going to judge" he takes the toy from you. Whispering to the stuffed creature. "You're beautiful". Kissing the top of his little stuffed head. You smile.

"You're ridiculous" you playfully point out. Picking up other items and starting to wrap them.

TAGS: @sojuxxi

[vivalas-vega]

sunshine / jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

heyooo !!! the fic I've been teasing for the past few days is finally here ! I don't know that I'm fully happy with it but I've invested a minimum of 25 hours into this and I had to metaphorically put the pen down at some point. I hope you enjoy, as always please please please let me know what you think!

sunshine / jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

add yourself to my taglist

feel free to buy me a kofi if you like my work!

based on this request! here is your fic @gryffindormarveltwilight :)

word count: 14k (estimated read time: 60 minutes)

warnings: language, drinking, some suggestive humor, brief rooster x reader/allusions to rooster x reader, navy inaccuracies, terrible descriptions of flying a fighter jet pls forgive me

Sitting in your superiors' stuffy office underneath dim fluorescent lighting the only thing you could think of was that your best friend was right. A point that you didn’t want to admit to anyone, let alone her… but that was also a lie, the biggest thought dominating your headspace was her brother. Jacob Seresin. She’d told you a thousand times over to get ahead of it, that you couldn’t keep this secret forever and to just come clean to him and your family but you’d dug your heels in, insisted this was the right way to go about things, and god did you hate eating your words. She was fucking right. 

You were reminded of Thanksgiving two years ago, one of the events in a long list of near-misses where your secret almost came to light.

“Sunshine, your phone keeps ringing, do you want me to get it?” Jake asked from across the couch. You were fully immersed in your novel with your legs stretched out and resting against his, you hadn’t even noticed your phone… or anything else for that matter outside of the world you were holding in your palms.

“Just silence it,” you said as you flipped the page.

“Wait a minute,” he said and the shift in his tone pulled your attention to him. He was staring at your phone screen in shock… or was that confusion? “How the fuck do you know Rooster?” he asked and your blood ran cold.

“What?” you asked and he flipped the screen around to reveal Rooster’s contact photo. You thanked your previous self for cropping yourself out of it because this was going to be hard enough to explain without the addition of you in your khakis. “Oh,” you chuckled, hoping to just brush it off entirely as you sat up. “You know, I kind of forgot he was a pilot, too. I met him a few months ago when I went to San Diego for that convention.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me you happened to meet another naval aviator?”

You shrugged, “I didn’t think you knew him.” You knew he did. “We met in a bar and hit it off, we’ve kept in contact since.” 

“Are you like… a thing?” he asked, disgust evident in his tone. 

You laughed, “no, you know… it is possible to meet someone in a bar and not immediately jump their bones.” you said, trying to deflect this conversation in its entirety. 

“Nope, you’re not flipping this around on me.” Damn it. “I find it awfully suspicious this is the first I’m hearing of Rooster… by accident no less.”

You sighed, “fine, you caught me. I’m secretly a naval aviator too and Rooster was my wingman on a mission in Eastern Europe,” you said, and you didn’t try to sound innocent or sarcastic, just the right amount of indifference for him to not believe you.

He chuckled, “yeah of course you are, and I’m not an aviator, I’m actually a fucking astronaut.”  He added an eye roll for dramatic effect. “At least make your lies believable, sunshine, you know you’d never even make it to basic because I’d have killed you before then.”

You let out a laugh but there was no humor in it, “you’re right… me being in the Navy is definitely far fetched.”

“Top Gun, sir?” you questioned, trying to focus your thoughts on the present and he nodded… not even fully looking at you as he sorted through paperwork on his desk.

“Despite your insistence on keeping your achievements quiet, you’ve caught the attention of a lot of people. Mission is need to know, and apparently I don’t make the cut,” there was a bitter taste on his tongue as he spoke the words. “All I know is the best of the best from every aviation squad are headed west.”

“Yes, sir. When do I leave?” 

“You’re on a plane in six hours. Go home, pack, get your affairs in order. You report for duty at 08:00 tomorrow.”  Six hours. 

“They think I’m a research assistant to a fucking archeologist, Sadie! I mean, how stupid could I possibly be!” Your voice was shrill as you shouted in the general vicinity of your phone perched atop your dresser as you threw things into a duffel bag. You weren’t even concerned with what you were packing, you were more concerned with the fact that the single thread holding your intricate web of lies together was unraveling right in front of you. “You were right the other day when you said he already knows, he just… doesn’t know it’s me. I’ve heard of the infamous Hangman, there’s no way he hasn’t heard of Viper.”

“Just take a deep breath, I mean… I won’t say I told you so, even though I totally told you so.” Good thing she won’t gloat. “What’s the worst that can happen? He’ll be shocked, he might yell at you, he might rat you out to our parents but, maybe that’s for the best.”

“Maybe it’s for the best that everyone finds out I’ve been lying to them about what I do for a living for eight years?” you nearly shrieked as you rooted through your drawers for your one good swimsuit.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to stop taking online archeology courses on the off chance people ask you for specifics? Which… no one ever has because you picked a boring fake job to have, or wouldn’t it be nice to actually be able to tell your parents about your job, your achievements? Did I tell you that Jake actually mentioned Viper to me? Said something about some elusive hotshot pilot very few people have ever actually seen but their exploits have been heard everywhere.”

“Sadie, I called you because you’re supposed to be helping,” you groaned.

“Am I not?” she asked, genuinely sounding innocent and you just glared at the phone… and though she couldn’t see it, she definitely felt it all the way back home in Texas. “You know, you never actually told me how you got Viper as a call sign-”

 “You know what, I have to go.” you said abruptly, cutting her off.

“What are you-” you didn’t bother listening to the rest of the sentence as you hung up and quickly dialed a number you hadn’t in months.

“Hey sunshine,” Jake’s voice rang throughout your room and normally the pet name bestowed on you from a very young age, meant to be ironic considering you’ve never had a sunny disposition, would have been comforting but now it just made you feel sick. “What are you up to?”

“Hey you,” you breathed out. “I just got off the phone with Sadie and I figured I’d give my favorite Seresin a call,” you joked and his laughter on the other end did nothing to ease your nausea. 

“I’ll be sure to tell her you said so. Where are you calling from this time?” he asked and you thought there might be a winch in your chest, each sound from his end of the phone cranking it tighter and tighter.

“Uh, I’m actually stateside for a bit… lab work,” you lied. “What about you, jetsetter? Where’s the Navy got you now?” You were fishing.

“Also stateside, at least for now. Your timing is actually impeccable, I’m packing for a last-minute detachment and you were always better at that than me.” He was referencing all the times you’d wander up into his room just minutes before leaving for one of your shared family vacations, finding him standing in front of his closet with a blank look on his face and an empty suitcase on the bed, leaving you to do it all for him.

You chuckled nervously, “after all this time you still can’t pack a bag without my input?”

“Well, you’ve never forced me to figure it out for myself and the times I’ve had to go without I ended up with all the wrong things.”

“I’m pretty sure this is weaponized incompetence. Where are you headed?” You already knew the answer, but there was a small flicker of hope burning within you. 

“San Diego, all I know is I’ve been recalled to Top Gun.” he answered and you felt your heart drop into your stomach.

“Well,” you started, clearing your throat, “definitely some shorts and t-shirts, maybe a few of those ridiculously tight short-sleeve button-ups you always insist on buying… but none of the bright colored ones, they’re awful.” you said and he laughed. “Throw in those green swim trunks if you plan on heckling any innocent women simply trying to enjoy some sun and surf.”

“Heckling innocent women, how do you know I’m not the one being heckled?”

You laughed, “because I know you, you’ve been a heartbreaker since age ten.”

“I prefer the term rolling stone,” he protested and you laughed again.

“I’m sure you do Mr. Rock n Roll but that is not the perception. Your mother worries.”

“Did she call you again?” he asked, voice going up an octave.

“Oh yes, she asked me if we crossed paths in Bosnia… because, of course we would have while I was in Bahrain, said I needed to talk some sense into you.”

“When were you in Bahrain?” he asked and you internally groaned. You’d said too much. But then again, as you looked at the clock it didn’t really matter how much you said. You could say hey Jake, by the way… I’ve been in the Navy all this time, I’ll see you soon! and it wouldn’t make a damn difference.

“Uh, you know… just a few months ago.”

“Huh, I almost went there a few months ago,” he said and you could hear the contemplation in his tone.

“Small world,” you said breathlessly. “Shoot, urgent text from the lab… I’ve gotta head in, call me when you get settled in San Diego?”

“I will, when this deployment is over I was actually going to try and get some leave… come visit you if you’re still stateside, if that’s alright?”

“Of course it is, I’ll talk to you later.” You fell backwards onto your bed with a huff as you disconnected the call, “son of a bitch.”

The red neon sign above the Hard Deck used to be a comforting image, a port in the storm, light illuminating a pathway towards a night of blowing off steam but right now it felt more like the flicker was mocking you, laughing as you prepared to walk through those doors and undo years of lying and manipulating those closest to you. You knew he’d be there. You were. There was nowhere else for aviators to go when arriving in town. Well… nowhere else aviators would go.

“Oh dear god,” you mumbled to yourself, keeping your head low as you waited for your beer. You saw Phoenix strutting across the bar with Fanboy and Payback in tow and the voice that rang out from the pool table made your blood run cold. Of course he was already here.

“What do we have here? If it ain’t Phoenix,” he said, fixing her with that famous smirk as he stood upright. “And here I thought we were special, Coyote. Turns out, the invite went to anyone.”

“Fellas, this here’s Bagman,” she introduced as you carefully approached, mindful of where you were positioning yourself as you started to slide back into your work persona.

“Hangman,” he corrected.

“Whatever.” she dismissed. “You’re looking at the one of only two naval aviators on active duty with confirmed air-to-air kills.”

“Stop,” he said, and you couldn’t help but chuckle and the faux-display of modesty. Always a showboater.

“Mind you, the other guy was in a museum piece from the Korean war.” she smirked, you’d been deployed with her a few times and you always found her ability to outpace the men refreshing and oh-so-needed in the Navy. 

“Cold war,” Coyote corrected.

“Different wars, same century.” Payback said.

“Not this one,” Fanboy added.

“Who are your friends?” Coyote asked, gesturing to the two of them as they introduced themselves. “And I’m assuming this other aviator with a confirmed air-to-air kill will be gracing us with his presence tonight?”

“Her presence,” Phoenix said, narrowing her eyes as she corrected his assumption. “Call sign’s Viper, if you two made the cut then she definitely did.” 

“Ah, Viper.” Jake chimed in and you felt your ears burn as you watched him from your spot behind a beam. The way your name fell from his lips in such a condescending way made your eyes narrow. “You know, I’ve heard an awful lot about this Viper but… I’ve never laid eyes on her. Pretty sure she’s just a myth, what do you think, Coyote?” he asked and his friend nodded his head.

“You just can’t stand that the person holding you in a draw is a woman.” Phoenix quipped and you couldn’t help but smile.

“No one’s holding me in anything, darlin’, but I can’t say I’m not excited to finally meet this elusive pilot… set the record straight on who’s number one.”

“Oh Jakey,” you tutted, finally emerging from your spot behind the beam as you approached the table and you ignored the way he was physically caught off guard, quickly standing from his perch on the pool table. “I wouldn’t hold your breath because it sure as shit ain’t you.” You looked him up and down once for good measure. “Bagman, and Hyena, was it? Names Viper, pleasure to meet you.” You held your hand out for Coyote with a smirk rivaling Jake’s. For all the fear you had about your secret coming to light you knew you had to come in strong, if you showed up with your tail between your legs like your old teenage self, scared of Hangman’s wrath you’d never get out from under it during training.

“So, you’re not a myth,” Coyote responded, shaking your hand but you weren’t looking at him… you were looking at Jake who’s eyes seemed like they were about to bug out of his head as they scanned you, clad in a matching khaki uniform. 

“No, but she is a legend,” Fanboy piped in and you chuckled at the reinforcements.

“Hey V, knew you’d turn up sooner or later,” she said as she pulled you in for a quick hug and you reached out to squeeze both Payback and Fanboy’s shoulders in greeting. “And who’s this?” Phoenix asked, not picking up on the tension rising between you and Jake as her eyes glanced at the man sitting in standard-issue glasses to your left.

“Who’s who?” Coyote asked, not noticing he was there at all. She looked directly at him as he brushed peanuts off his lap. “When did you get in?”

“Oh, I- I’ve been here the whole time.” he answered with a cute smile on his face and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his earnestness. 

“Man’s a stealth pilot,” Jake finally chipped in, seemingly recovering from your shocking arrival but his eyes still held a lot of questions you knew you’d be hearing later. 

“Literally.” Coyote added.

“Weapons Systems Officer, actually,” the man corrected.

“With no sense of humor,” Jake sighed and you narrowed your eyes at him as he passed the pool cue to Phoenix before he made his way to the bar and you took the opportunity to slip away and follow him.

“Penny, my dear,” he started, leaning against the bartop. “I’ll have four more on the old timer.” he said, eyes darting to Maverick and you knew he’d regret saying that later. Everyone else might have been alarmingly slow at connecting the dots but you knew his presence here wasn’t a coincidence. As far as you knew he was supposed to be in Arizona acting as a test pilot.

“Unprepared for an ambush?” you asked and he sighed, you watched as his bicep flexed when he gripped the edge of the bar.

“You could say that,” he replied dryly.

“Doesn’t sound like the Hangman I’ve heard of… always so prepared for everything,” you shot back and he turned to look at you, expression steeled.

“Well, deception sounds exactly like the Viper I’ve heard of.” You couldn’t be surprised, verbal volleyball with him was always your forte and this time he had genuine cause to be upset. “What the hell are you doing here?” There it was.

“Recalled, same as you.” you answered, as if it was really that simple.

“In the Navy,” he clarified. “You didn’t think to mention this when we were on the phone four hours ago? Or better yet, when you joined?”

“Thought this would be better face to face.”

“What, were you calling just to get information from me?”

“I like being prepared, wanted to know what I was walking into.” you replied, keeping your features calm as you looked up at him.

“And you couldn’t have prepared me for seeing my little sister’s best friend in front of all my colleagues?”

“Your colleagues? Thought I was a little more than that,” you responded, focusing your attention forward and subtly nodding to Maverick who was sitting across the bar in lieu of a proper greeting. “You’re a professional, Hangman, I think you handled it well.”

“Like how well you’ve handled lying to your entire family? How was that dig in Bahrain, by the way?”

“Needed to come up with something to account for all the traveling and lack of contact,” you answered, cutting through to the question beneath the question.

“And where do they think you’re off to now?” he asked as Penny set the beers in front of you. “You know, just in case I need to cover your ass.”

“Croatia. Called them before I called you and Sadie.”

“Sadie knows?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why the hell did you keep this from everyone?”

“Are you forgetting the chaos that ensued when you told everyone your plans after high school?” you asked. “Besides, I did tell you in no uncertain terms, you just turned it into a joke.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Thanksgiving a few years ago? When Rooster called?” you prompted and you watched his face fall. 

“Oh my god,” he muttered. 

“Yeah, I knew you wouldn’t believe me which is why I said it to get you off my back… and what you said about killing me before I even made it to basic just proves my reasoning was right to not tell anyone.”

“Wait, so Rooster really was your wingman on a mission?”

“Several.” you answered.

“I don’t understand, I first heard of Viper six years ago. How have we never crossed paths?”

“I asked to keep my accomplishments on the downlow, they thought it was modesty but really I didn’t want you finding out through a Navy newsletter. Truthfully, I don’t know how we haven’t been on detachments sooner, that was just dumb luck.”

“Dumb luck,” he scoffed, looking you over once more. “God dammit. I am happy to see you,” he finally conceded and you let out a laugh.

“Really? I’m not convinced,” you replied as he pulled you in for a tight hug.

“Meant what I said too,” he started, picking up two of the beers and nodding for you to grab the others. “I do intend on winning this tie between us.”

You laughed again, “good luck with that, bud.” you shot back as you walked back to the pool table. You were aware of the questioning eyes but you had no intention of filling anyone in at the moment.

“Bradshaw, as I live and breathe,”Jake said, swiping Bob’s pool cue as you gave Rooster a one-arm hug.

“Hangman, you look… good,” Rooster responded, apprehension clear in his voice and you shared a look with Phoenix.

“Well, I am good, Rooster.” he replied, lining up and taking his shot. “I’m very good, in fact, I am too good to be true.” You rolled your eyes as you watched Phoenix give Rooster an exasperated look.

“So,” Payback interjected, “anyone know what this special detachment is all about?”

“No, a mission’s a mission, that don’t confront me.” You watched in amusement as he made his way around the pool table, oozing arrogance. You’d heard the stories of the cocky pilot but seeing it before you, in stark contradiction to the Jake you grew up with, was jarring to say the least. “What I want to know: who’s gonna be team leader? And which one of y’all has what it takes to follow me?”

“Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.” Rooster replied and you watched Jake continue his path with an overwhelming urge to smack the smirk off of his face. If you wanted to, you knew you were the only person here who could get away with it.

“Well, anyone who follows you is just gonna run out of fuel.” Jake shot back, “But that’s just you ain’t it, Rooster? You’re snug on that perch waiting for just the right moment… that’s never gonna come.” He finished, stepping closer. “I love this song,” he added before walking away.

“Well, he hasn’t changed.” Phoenix sighed.

“Nope, sure hasn’t.” Rooster agreed and you chuckled.

“If only you knew how untrue that was,” you said, eyebrows raised as you looked after him, a man almost completely unrecognizable to you now. You were almost impressed that he was able to suppress this new side of himself when he went back home just as easily as you did.

“Thought you were in Bahrain,” Rooster commented and you spared him a quick glance.

“Thought you were in Japan,” you replied simply.

“Looks like your intel is outdated,” he said and you finally looked over to him with a smirk.

“Same goes for you.” You nudged his shoulder with yours, “good to see you, Roo.”

“Does anyone here have a normal relationship with one another?” Coyote asked, watching as Rooster disappeared and as you went to steal some of Bob’s peanuts. 

“This is like a dysfunctional summer camp reunion, Coyote. When have we all been in the same room at the same time?” Phoenix answered.

“Any thoughts as to how this is going to play out?” Jake asked, sidling up beside you as you ordered another beer and you didn’t even look in his direction as you watched Penny mix a drink for someone.

“Thought it was just a mission… none of the details confront you,” you responded and he didn’t miss the air of mockery in your tone.

“I meant between us,” he clarified and you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Thought we were just colleagues.”

He shot you an unamused look, “are you really going to be like that?” he asked and you shrugged.

“Matching your energy, Hangman. Have to say, I was hoping the rumors were false.”

“Oh yeah? And what rumors are those, Viper?”

“The rumors that you’re an arrogant asshole. Imagine my surprise to find the Jake I know nowhere in sight.”

“Well, imagine my surprise to find out the girl who used to steal my sweatshirts and whine if I didn’t cut the crust off her sandwiches in the Navy with a reputation of being a calculated bitch.”

“I’m a woman in the Navy, what’s your excuse?” you fired back and he nodded his head appreciatively as if to say touche.

He sighed, “I just mean… we have history, how do you want to go about that?”

“Pretty sure everyone here has some form of history with each other, I don’t see why we need to go about it any particular way.” you shrugged and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Why do I get the feeling this is going to be a long detachment?”

“Probably because you’re right.”

“I just don’t understand why you can’t be a team player. You’re taking this whole Hangman thing too far,” you snapped from your side of the booth. “I’m sick of doing push ups because of you.”

“Ever considered it’s just because you’re the one that’s failing?” Jake asked with a smirk.

“No, it’s just because you’re a shitty wingman, always have been.”

“Now what is that supposed to mean?”

You laughed dryly, “Christmas? Two years ago? You had one job, be a decent wingman. You can’t do it on the ground and you certainly can’t do it in the air.”

“Hold up. Christmas two years ago? What do you mean?” Phoenix asked, having

overheard your latest round of ripping into Jake as she was walking by and you let out a sigh.

“Bagman and I grew up together,” you finally came clean and you gave her an exasperated look as she did a terrible job at masking her shock.

“Wait, like grew up grew up together? As kids?”

“My best friend is his sister,” you explained as briefly as you could. “Well, that makes a hell of a lot more sense than my theory,” she said and you furrowed

your brows.

“What was your theory?” you and Jake asked at the same time.

“I thought you two had slept together on a deployment,” she shrugged and you blinked in surprise. You looked at Jake and waited for him to respond because you were at a loss for words at the implication.

“Your quickness to assume I’ve slept with every woman I’ve come into contact with is frankly insulting,” he said and you bit back a laugh.

“But not entirely untrue,” you muttered.

“Please tell me you have embarrassing stories about him,” Phoenix pleaded and you let out a full laugh now.

“Oh, I definitely do.”

“That will remain in the vault because unless you’re forgetting, I have stories too.” Jake chimed in and you rolled your eyes.

“Hold on, I’ve been deployed with both of you, and mentioned both of you to each other, how is this the first I’m hearing of this?” she asked and you noticed the way almost everyone was not subtly listening in.

“Our families didn’t have the warmest reaction to him joining the Navy, let alone to be a fighter pilot… so I just kept it to myself when I did. Jake didn’t know until last week,” you answered.

She shot him a weird look, ��I always forget you have a real name… makes you too human,” she muttered before slipping away and you chuckled. 

“Cat’s outta the bag now,” he said, eyeing you over the rim of his glass as he took a drink and you didn’t miss the way his pupils dilated as Rooster came into his field of vision.

“Buy you a refill?” he asked you and you nodded, allowing him to pull you up and lead you to the bar. “So, you and Hangman have history?” You realized he must have only caught a piece of your previous conversation.

“Mmhm,” you confirmed, “Seems everyone has history with him, including you.” you said as the two of you sat down on the bar stools.

“Nothing beyond the obvious.”

“And what’s the obvious?” you asked and he smirked, sliding a fresh beer towards you.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he said and you raised your eyebrows at him before he chuckled. “Thought it’d be good to catch up… haven’t heard from you since our last mission.”

“And whose fault is that?” you shot back, with Rooster it was always about what was unsaid. On the surface you weren’t even sure this would be considered a conversation, too much back and forth with not enough shared in each passing remark.

“You know how it is,” he shrugged and you nodded.

“How was Japan?”

“How was Bahrain?” You stared him down before cracking, a smile spreading across your face as you laughed.

“You know I can’t tell you.”

“You know I can keep a secret. Besides, what are friends for?”

“Oh, are we friends now?” you countered, amusement clear in your tone.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we weren’t.” he shot back.

“Our last communication was you sending me a photo of bird shit on your canopy with a series of emojis that I’m honestly still unsure the meaning of.”

“That’s peak friendship,” he laughed. “What is the story with you and Hangman and why was I not allowed to tell him we knew each other?”

“He’s my best friend’s brother,” you said and realization passed over his features. “He’s a little… protective, and I knew he wouldn’t respond well to me being in the Navy.”

“Ah, well that explains why he looks like he wants to kill me everytime I get close to you,” he said and you looked over your shoulder to find him glaring in your general direction and you let out a laugh.

“That’s just his face when it comes to you.”

“No, pretty sure it’s more than that,” he replied and you raised an eyebrow at him as if to say elaborate. He reached down to grab your stool and yanked you closer, forcing your legs to slide in between his and smirked as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear while you just looked at him with wide eyes. “I give it five minutes, tops.”

“Five minutes for what?” you asked, coming out a little more breathless than you were hoping for.

“The way he looks at you is far more intense than just being his sister’s best friend… I’m just testing my theory,” he said, voice low with how close the two of you were.

“And what do you think these test results will yield?”

“I think he’s going to stew over there for a moment,” he said leaning closer as he looked over your shoulder and nodded slightly, “just like he’s doing right now… and then when I make any sort of indication of taking this further he’s going to come pull you right out of this chair and drag you off.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed, deciding to lean into it if only for the fact that your life was so hectic you had no time for attention like this… even if it was for show, and you let your fingers absentmindedly drag along his forearm. “And how are you going to indicate taking this further?” you asked, your eyes almost daring him.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as his fingers trailed along your thigh.

You gave a half-hearted shrug, “contrary to popular belief, I’m not immune to a little flirting… real or not.”

He frowned slightly, “I know you’re not immune or are you purposefully forgetting our first mission?”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” you replied and now it was your turn to smirk. You saw something in his expression shift, like he was accepting the challenge you’d just given him.

“Do I need to remind you?” he asked, inching closer and your breath hitched when his hand rested on your neck. “Because I remember it quite vividly,” he whispered in your ear and you couldn’t help the shiver that raced up your spine. 

“I think it’s coming back to me now,” you said as he pulled back to look at you and he chuckled.

“Incoming.” you furrowed your brows at him as he leaned away but before you could ask him what he meant you felt a strong hand wrap around your arm and yank you upwards and suddenly you found yourself being pulled across the bar and one glance back to Rooster only revealed a smug look that said I told you so. And he did.

“Get off of me!” you yelled as you pushed Jake’s hand off you, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared up at him and squinted your eyes to shield from the sun setting over the beach… now just a handful of yards away in your new location. “What the hell is your problem?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” You just gestured for him to explain. “Rooster? Really?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Please tell me you’re not that dense,” he said and you could see the disappointment in his features but what you couldn’t figure out was why. You just shook your head and threw your arms out in exasperation and he sighed. “Do you really think flirting with Rooster is a good idea?”

You let out an indignant laugh, “you think that was flirting?”

“Okay, I know you’re not that dense.” 

“I know this has been difficult for you to wrap your head around but I have friendships on this squad outside of you that have been in existence for years. Whatever you think you saw was me catching up with an old friend.”

He scoffed, “and he just had to have his hands on your neck and thigh while doing so?”

“And so what if he did? I’m failing to see where this is any of your business and why it gave you the right to physically remove me from my conversation.”

“Figured I’d save you from making a mistake because it’s never a good idea to get involved with someone on your squad… especially on a mission as hard as this one.”

“You would know wouldn’t you?” you countered. “Speaking from personal experience?”

“Don’t do that, you always find a way to turn it around on me.”

“Maybe because you’re always the one in the wrong!” you shouted. “I know that me being here is weird for you, and I know it’s been an adjustment having me in the air with you but that does not give you the right to act like you have for the past eight years. I am not your kid sister’s best friend anymore, I am not a teenager that needs you to bail her out when guys get handsy.”

“Well, you’re definitely acting like a teenager who needs me to bail her out before she makes a mistake that could follow her around for the rest of her career.”

“You are the one acting like a teenager right now! In case you haven’t noticed because you’ve been too busy strutting around like you’re god’s fucking gift to us all, I’ve built an incredible career for myself, and I’m pretty damn good at what I do… I have to be, right? Because I landed myself here with you. Or do you think that was just a fluke? The only reason this is new to you is because I diminished myself to hide from you because I knew you couldn’t deal with the fact that I can handle my own shit now.”

“You think lying to everyone is handling your shit? You hid because you were too much of a coward to own up to it.”

You let out a bitter laugh, “I lied to everyone because they worry. Your mother cries every day you’re on deployment. Your sister calls me twice as much. Your dad goes to church twice a week. My parents check their phones every hour waiting to see if yours sent them any kind of update. It’s easier for everyone if they believe my traveling and being out of service range is because I’m safe and sound, digging up old relics. I lied because I knew you would act like this and I lied because giving our families some peace of mind was worth more to me than getting credit for everything I’ve accomplished.”

He was silent for a moment as he processed what you’d said, and he took a step back as silence permeated the outdoor patio. “I don’t think it was just a fluke,” he finally said and you let out a sharp exhale.

“Well, obviously it wasn’t, I’m a much better pilot than you.” you joked and he gave you a deadpan look. “Every time you snap at me in the air, or dismiss me in the training room, or conveniently occupy yourself elsewhere when my previous missions become the center of focus, you're only reinforcing the reasons I kept this from you. I didn’t want to. Of course I wanted to tell you of all people, I just… didn’t want to feel like I used to when we were growing up. Like the little kid you got stuck with.”

He sighed, “well, now I feel like a jackass.”

You shrugged, “well… you kind of are a jackass.”

“You’re not the little kid I got stuck with, sunshine. I just-”

“I get it,” you cut him off. You wanted this conversation to end before it got too deep, and you could tell by the look in his eyes you were about to jump headfirst into a conversation neither of you were ready for. “Come on, buy me a beer to make up for what a jackass you were.” 

You were on your third run through of the mission today, probably the dozenth this week and each time something went wrong, or you weren’t fast enough, or nothing went wrong and you were fast enough but you missed the target. Between this and Maverick’s constant reminders of just how impossible this mission was, you were finding it hard to push through the noise and focus on your objectives… something that had never been an issue for you in the past. You’d made a career off of keeping your head down and doing what was expected of you no matter how difficult it was but this? Each time you stepped into the cockpit you couldn’t help but think you were training for your death.

“Talk to me, Bob,” Phoenix said as you flew above the dry terrain. You could feel the clock running out, both on this run through and your mission training in general.

“We are twelve seconds late on target, we gotta move! We gotta move,” Bob replied.

“Copy, try to stay with me,” you said as you increased your speed.

“Wait, who’s that?” Bob asked and you cocked your head slightly, waiting for further information.

“Blue team, you’ve been spotted.” Maverick’s voice rang throughout your headset and you winced.

“Shit, it’s Mav.” 

“What the hell is he doing here?” Phoenix asked,

“I’m a bandit on course to intercept, blue team what are you gonna do?”

“He’s twenty miles left, ten o’clock. Seven hundred knots closure.” Bob supplied.

“Your call, what do you want to do?” you asked Phoenix, looking over your shoulder in the direction of her aircraft.

“Continue, we’re close. Stay on target.”

“He’s swinging around to the north,” Bob said as you began to brace yourself.

“Stand by for pop-up.” 

“Be ready on that laser, Bob,” Phoenix ordered.

“Copy, I’m on it.”

“Blue team, bandit is still closing,” Maverick reminded you and you felt tension settling in your muscles.

“Popping now,” you communicated as you sharply moved to a steep incline. You gasped for air as the weight crushed you backwards into your seat. “Talk to me, Bob. Where’s Mav?”

“He’s five miles out, he’s coming fast.”

“Target’s in sight,” Phoenix said.

“Where’s my laser, Bob?” you asked, already feeling the panic creep in.

“Deadeye! Deadeye! It’s no good. Sorry, I can’t get a lock.”

“We’re out of time, I’m dropping blind,” you said with a slight shake of your head as your thumb hovered over the button as you tried to drop it at the exact right moment. “Fuck, I missed,” you sighed as you began your steep climb out.

“That’s tone,” Maverick said and you could hear the disappointment in his voice.

“Maverick’s got missile lock on us.” Bob groaned.

“Shit, we’re dead,” Phoenix cursed.

“Blue team, that’s a fail.” You let out a sharp exhale as you ripped your mask off in frustration. No matter how hard or how many times you tried you were always so close without ever actually making it. “That’s enough for today.” Maverick said as you leveled out and you navigated to flank him. “Bird strike! Bird strike!” he shouted as you tried to avoid the onslaught of birds but it was no use, you felt your jet become unsteady as one flew directly into your engine.

“Shit, left engine’s on fire. Climbing,” you said as you yanked up on the yoke. “Throttling back, shutting off fuel to left engine. Extinguishing fire,” you narrated as you ran through your mental checklist of everything you needed to do. “Fuck, it’s still spinning. Trying to restart,” you tried to keep your voice and your nerves steady but it was no use, the erratic beeping filling the cockpit was threatening to pull you apart.

“Viper, it’s on fire! Don’t start-” Maverick started but you cut him off.

“Throttling up.” You watched as everything flashed at you and you tried to regain control as you quickly lost altitude. “Extinguishing right engine.” Everything was in failure and you were running out of options.

“Viper, punch out.” Maverick ordered as your jet hurtled towards the hillside in a spiral. “You can’t save it. Eject, eject!”

“Fuck, ejecting! Ejecting!” you shouted as you pulled the handles between your feet and the last thing you remembered was watching your plane burn in.

You awoke in a panic, gripping the sheets as a distant beeping accelerated your heart rate and as if on autopilot your hands grabbed for the controls but there was nothing but fabric. “Hey, hey you’re okay,” you heard and you let out a sharp exhale as you saw Jake sitting beside you, leaned forward in his chair with concern written all over his face.

“I don’t- what the hell happened?”

“Bird strike. Thank god you punched out in time but you lost consciousness on the way down. Doc said you’re fine, they’re coming to discharge you soon,” he explained and you nodded as you began to calm down.

“Jesus,” you whispered before another wave of panic rolled over you. “Mav? Phoenix and Bob?” you asked, realizing you’d been so wrapped up in your own cockpit you didn’t even know if the voices coming through your headset were for you or if they were struggling with their own aircrafts.

“They’re good, Mav stopped by earlier to check in and everyone has been blowing up the group chat asking for updates,” he chuckled as he rested a hand on your leg.

“Just another thing to tack onto the long list of failures with this mission,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair.

He frowned at you, “hey, no one faults you for this. You can’t control bird strikes,” he reassured. “Everyone is just glad you got out.” His thumb was rubbing reassuring circles against your thigh and you took a deep breath as you tried to shake off the way he was looking at you. It was concern and… something else you couldn’t place.

“Jake, I don’t… I don’t think everyone’s going to come back from this,” you whispered, it was a universal truth, everyone had thought it at one point or another, Maverick had basically said it without being explicit, and you knew damn well Cyclone didn’t care about casualties so long as the mission was completed. “We can’t even get through dropping the bombs, we haven’t even accounted for SAM’s or bandits.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s us.” he said, voice firm and you knew it was a defense mechanism. He wouldn’t come out and say it but he shared the same fears you did. “Come on, let’s get you up, everyone wants to see that you’re alive and well for themselves,” he diverted but you knew better. He just didn’t want to get into it with you because if he did he wasn’t sure he’d be able to flip the switch back. He had to stay focused and so did you.

The drive to the Hard Deck was silent, much like a lot of your time had been with Jake recently and it made you want to rip your hair out. You couldn’t deal with the hot and cold, one minute you felt like nothing had changed when he brought you your coffee exactly how you liked it, or when you were doubled over in laughter by the dart board and the next he was distant, blowing you off entirely and pretending you were no more than a colleague. You knew things wouldn’t be like how they were back home, this was work and the lives of you and your team were on the line. There were more important things to focus on but when you watched him let loose with Coyote after-hours or humor Fanboy while he talked about some nerdy tv show you couldn’t help but think it felt like a knife to the back. 

“Easy, I know you’re sore even though you’re pretending you’re not,” he said softly as he helped you climb out of the car and you just gave him a deadpan look.

“I’m not pretending,” you protested and he smirked.

“Sure you’re not,” he agreed, even though he really didn’t.

“There she is!” Fanboy cheered as you walked in and you gave a bashful smile, hiding your face behind your hands to shield yourself from the commotion. “How are you feeling? What’d the doctor say?” he asked as everyone looked at you intently.

Bob elbowed him, “you are under no obligation to share your private medical information,” he said, clear disapproval in his tone at everyone’s nosiness.

You chuckled, “it’s okay, Bob. No concussion, nothing broken, just some light bruising in my ribs. Still cleared to fly so it looks like the competition hasn’t been knocked out yet,” you teased.

“Thank god, I couldn’t stand it if you abandoned me,” Phoenix said with a warm smile as she wrapped an arm around your waist carefully. “Are you allowed to drink?”

“It’s actually been encouraged,” you joked and she nodded before disappearing.

“Glad you’re okay,” Rooster said, giving you a sheepish smile. “Scared the shit out of all of us.”

“I like to keep you on your toes,” you replied. “Since I almost died today and all…” you started and he rolled his eyes.

“Oh, so you’re milking this?”

“Mmhm,” you smirked. “Since I almost died today, think you could go play a little something?” you asked and he shook his head with a chuckle.

“For you, I think that can be arranged.” you watched with a small smile as he did his usual routine of yanking the cord of the jukebox out of the wall before sauntering over to the piano. You loved watching the bar crowd around him, watching your new and old friends sing along and bust out terrible dance moves. It made it a little easier to forget the impending doom you were all facing.

“Did you make that happen?” Phoenix asked, placing a glass of bourbon in your hand.

“Not like I had to try very hard,” you laughed, watching as she nearly ran over to join him.

“You’ve always been so good at that,” Jake said, appearing beside you suddenly and you tore your eyes away from watching the fun for a moment to look up at him.

“What’s that?”

“Bringing people together,” he answered, gazing down at you. “This could have been just another detachment. Forced friendship while we’re stuck with each other before we go back to our normal squads, but nothing about that looks forced to me,” he said, turning back to watch Bob twirling Phoenix around, Payback and Fanboy doing the robot to a song completely unsuited for such a dance, Coyote and Rooster singing at the top of their lungs.

“Thank you,” you said and he pulled his attention back to you, an unasked question on his face. “For staying with me, it was nice having you there when I woke up.”

He shrugged, “no problem, you’re Sadie’s best friend… pretty sure she would have flown out here just to kick my ass if I didn’t.” Your face fell for a moment but you quickly recovered.

“Right, just Sadie’s best friend,” you muttered, polishing off your drink in one swig. Suddenly you felt silly, of course that’s only how he saw you. You were naive to think the ‘friendship’ you’d built over the past two decades was nothing more than the fact that you were in his life because of his sister, because your families had bonded over the daughters who couldn’t stand to be apart for more than twelve hours. The quarterly phone calls and drinking sessions past midnight over the holidays were nothing more than circumstantial. 

“Sunshine-” he started but you gave him an empty smile.

“Need a refill,” you said before walking towards the bar and Penny saw you coming, saw the look in your eyes and was quick to pour as soon as you’d set the glass down.

“Gave everyone quite a scare today, you alright?” she asked and you nodded. You knew she wasn’t really asking you about your ejection but you were content to pretend she was.

“All good, comes with the territory,” you chuckled and she gave you a knowing look.

“That one’s on me, consider it your unofficial hazard pay,” she joked and you took a moment to lean against the bar as you collected your thoughts. You couldn’t help but feel stupid  to think that even with the rigors of the job and learning curve of being around each other professionally you’d find some sort of groove resembling the one you settled into back home. You wondered what the hell that even was when you were home. He was always the highlight of your holidays, someone who understood you even though he didn’t know it. You looked forward to sneaking into his room when everyone had gone to sleep with a bottle to talk shit about your families and you shook your head as you sat in the embarrassment of thinking he could have looked forward to that too.

“Sunshine, I didn’t mean-” he started as he approached you and you just shook your head.

“It’s fine, I get it.” you said, focusing your attention on Rooster who was still fiddling with the keys while everyone went back to their groups and listened to it as background noise. “Training is almost over and when the mission is done we can go back to our squads and you can forget about the little kid who’s been following you around for twenty years.” 

“I don’t think you’re a little kid, I really didn’t mean anything by-”

“Jake.” you cut him off, turning to look up at him. “Really, it’s fine. With any luck after this we won’t see each other until Christmas so… maybe it’s better if we just focus on our own shit. We have enough to worry about.” You walked across the bar and slid onto the bench with Rooster who gave you a questioning look.

“Everything okay?” he asked and you nodded, taking a swig of your drink. 

“What do you say to a little Great Balls of Fire?” you asked, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment and with just a few of the opening chords he’d pulled everyone right back in just like he always did.

“It’s been an honor flying with you,” Maverick started as you all stood at attention. “Each one of you represents the best of the best. This is a very specific mission, my choice is a reflection of that and nothing more.” 

“Choose your two foxtrot teams,” Cyclone said and the tension in the room was palpable.

“Payback and Fanboy, Phoenix and Bob.” You smiled softly, that’s exactly who you would have picked.

“And your wingman,” Cyclone added and you felt the anxiety settle in the pit of your stomach. It was between you, Rooster, and Jake… You knew there was a complicated history between Maverick and Rooster, and despite your instability with Jake you didn’t want to be pitted against him.

“Viper.” he called out and the first person you looked at was Rooster who was doing a great job at masking his feelings and he shot you a tight smile. You glanced forward to find Jake looking at you and he gave you a slight nod. You thought getting picked for this mission would feel better than this, but you only felt sick.

“The rest of you will stand by on the carrier for any reserve role that’s required. Dismissed,” Warlock said and your limbs were slow to catch up with your brain as you began to move for the exit to head back to your bunk. You’d been training for weeks yet you felt entirely unprepared. Maverick stepping in as team leader restored a bit of your confidence but even with him leading you knew the odds of actually pulling this off and everyone making it back were slim. Part of you was relieved it was you and not Jake, or Rooster. Rooster still had a legacy to fulfill, and Jake simply wasn’t finished. He had a lot left to learn, and a lot left to accomplish.

“Hey,” Rooster called after you, jogging to catch up and you stopped in front of your door, looking around at the crowded hallway and you subtly nodded for him to follow you. “Congratulations.” he said as you closed the door behind you.

“I’m sorry,” you started but he shook his head.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You earned this, I know better than anyone how good you are in the air. Mav made the right call… I’m only sorry you aren’t team leader, we all thought you would be.”

“If it makes you feel any better you would have been my wingman if I was,” you offered and he chuckled.

“Not Hangman?”

You sighed, “I trust Jake implicitly on the ground, but… I can’t in the air, and he hasn’t had the best reaction to seeing me in this environment. You on the other hand I know I can trust in the air. You’ve saved my ass several times,” you said with a soft smile.

“Only as often as you’ve saved mine,” he replied. “I think you need to look at Hangman’s attitude towards you through a different lens.”

“What do you mean?” you asked as you slightly tilted your head in confusion.

“It’s not that he sees you as his little sister’s best friend, or the kid he can’t seem to escape… it’s the fact that he doesn’t see you that way, and now he’s forced to face it every day.” 

“If he doesn’t see me that way, then what way does he see me?” you asked, struggling to put the dots together and he just smiled.

“I can’t do all the work for you.” he said, pulling you in for a hug. “I’ve missed having you around, V.”

“I’ve missed having you around too, Roo. Let’s be actual friends when this is all over… which means no more sending me photos of bird shit on your canopy,” you said with a laugh.

“I told you, that’s peak friendship!” he said and you pulled away when your door creaked open.

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” Jake asked as he poked his head in, clearly uncomfortable and you and Rooster both shook your heads.

“No, I was just leaving… I’ll see you before, yeah?” Rooster asked and you nodded, giving his arm a squeeze as he walked past. “Hey, don’t think, just do, right?” he said before leaving and you nodded.

“Don’t think, just do.”

“Sure you two aren’t a thing?” Jake asked as he walked in, glancing behind him to make sure he was gone and you chuckled.

“Scout’s honor,” you replied.

“I just wanted to come congratulate you,” he said and you let out another soft laugh.

“Seems everyone wanted to do that,” you said. “Thank you, I’m sorry you weren’t picked.”

“Don’t be, you were right. You’re the better pilot,” he said and there wasn’t an ounce of dishonesty in his tone. “I need you to have a clear head while you’re up there, but… can we talk when this is all over? I handled this completely wrong and I don’t want to forget about the girl that’s been in my corner for twenty years when we go back to our old squads.” you smiled at the way he rephrased what you’d said earlier.

You nodded, “I’d like that.”

He moved towards the door but turned back to say, “I know Sadie’s your best friend, but just so you know… you’re mine,” before he left and you let out a sharp exhale and flopped onto your bunk as the door shut behind him. You put your hands over your eyes as you let what both Rooster and Jake said sink in and it left you with far more questions than you had when you entered this dorm… so much for having a clear head. You heard the door push open and let out a groan, sitting up to see who was coming to mess with your head now but quickly turned sheepish.

“Jesus, hello to you too,” Phoenix muttered as she walked in and set something on her bunk. “Saw both your boyfriends leave,” she said with a smirk and you rolled your eyes before laying back down.

“They’re not my boyfriends.” you protested and she just laughed.

“Sure they aren’t. How are you feeling?”

“How are you feeling?” you shot back as she sat next to you.

“Terrified, but we’re as ready as we’re going to be.” You sat up and turned to face her fully.

“I’m really glad you’re flying with me, Phe. How badass are we? Not one but two women selected for the uber secret, uber dangerous mission?” you asked and she let out a laugh.

“Super badass, now we just gotta make sure we come home so we can brag about it.”

You stood on the platform with nerves rattling you to your core. You took a deep breath and shook your limbs out as you looked up at your jet.  You reached up to press your hand to its exterior and said, “no funny business today, alright? I wanna come home.”

“Sunshine!” you heard from behind you and turned to see Jake jogging towards you. You stood in silence for a moment before he pulled you in for a bone crushing hug. “You give ‘em hell, okay?” You nodded when he pulled away and you watched him walk to his own jet where he’d be sitting as Dagger Spare. You made eye contact with Maverick who gave you a nod that you returned, a silent exchange that solidified you were in this together.

“Dagger One, up and ready on catapult one.” Maverick said in your ear and you exhaled forcefully, willing any reservations to leave your body with your breath.

“Dagger Spare standing by.”

“Dagger Four, up and ready.”

“Dagger Three, up and ready.”

“Dagger Two, up and ready,” you said as you focused your mind and pushed out anything but the mission. You weren’t going to think about what Rooster had said, or about what Jake wanted to talk to you about when this was all over, and especially not what you were hoping he wanted to talk to you about. Blocking out the noise was what you were good at, and one of the reasons you were selected. Get in, get out, go home. That’s all you had to do.

You launched off the catapult and fell into formation behind Maverick and listened for the command to fall below the radar. The ocean was closer than it had ever been before and somehow it felt so different from your proximity to the ground during training. This was real. This wasn’t a simulation.

“Feet dry in sixty seconds. Comanche, Dagger One. Picture.”

“Comanche, picture clean. Decision is yours.” 

“Copy,” Maverick replied and waited for a beat before saying, “Dagger attack.” Not that it was an option before but there was no turning back now. You watched the tomahawks fly over your head as you assumed attack formation and marked your time as you entered the valley and rounded the snowy ridges. “First SAM site overhead.”

“Looks like we’re clear on radar, Mav.” Phoenix said.

“Let’s not take it for granted.” You knew they were there but you chose to ignore the presence of the SAM’s above you. Worrying about them now wouldn’t do you any good, you had plenty of time for that later. Your only concern was staying below where you could trigger them.

“We got two minutes to target,” Bob said and you checked your radar, increasing your speed.

“Stay with me, Payback.” you grunted as you overtook a curve.

“I got you,” he confirmed.

“We’re picking up two bandits. Single group, two contacts.” Comanche informed and you furrowed your brows slightly.

“Comanche, what’s their heading?” Phoenix asked.

“Bullseye 090, 50, tacked southwest.”

“They’re headed away from us, they don’t know we’re here,” you replied.

“The second those tomahawks hit the airbase those bandits are gonna move to defend the target, we have to get there before they do. Increase speed,” Maverick ordered and you nodded to yourself as you did.

“We got you Mav, don’t wait for me,” Phoenix responded. You lagged as you finally saw one of the SAM’s, a visual you were trying really hard to avoid and your breath caught in your throat as some of the noise started to creep in.

“Stay with me, V, don’t think.” Maverick said to you and you nodded to yourself again.

“Just do,” you finished as you pushed forward on the throttle.

“Jesus, Viper,” Payback shouted in your ear and you chuckled.

“Come on, Payback, you with me?” you asked. “Watch your heads,” you warned as you navigated through a bridge.

“Right behind you!” he confirmed after Fanboy let out some expletives that let you know they were still tailing you.

“Phoenix, stand-by for pop-up strike.”

“Dagger Three in position,” she replied. You heard their grunts through the headset as they fought against the gravity trying to pull them backwards.

“Get me eyes on that target, Bob!”

“Dagger Three, standby, Mav… Standby… I’ve got it!”

“Target acquired, bombs away.” Mav said and you felt your body stiffen as you waited for confirmation.

“We’ve got impact. Check, direct hit! Direct hit!” Bob yelled and you felt a wave of relief that disappeared as quickly as it had washed over you.

“Dagger Two, status.”

“Almost there, Mav, almost there,” you replied as you flew over the ridge.

“Fanboy, where’s my laser?” you asked as you grew closer to the target.

“V, there’s something wrong with this laser… Shit! Dead eye, dead eye, dead eye!” Fanboy shouted and you cursed under your breath.

“Come on, we are running out of time. Get it online!” you yelled back.

“I’m trying!”

“Come on, Fanboy!” you heard Payback say and you were running a risk analysis in your head.

“Nearly there, nearly there!”

“There’s no time, I’m dropping blind.” you said, voice calm and steady as you focused on the target.

“Viper, I’ve got this!” Fanboy tried and you wanted to reassure him but you couldn’t.

“Pull up. Bombs away, bombs away!” you said as you pressed your button before pulling up.

“Bullseye, bullseye, bullseye!” you heard command say but you couldn’t focus on anything as you tried to get oxygen to your brain, the force was compressing your lungs and you could feel the edges of your vision darken as you let out breathless pants.

“We’re not out of this yet,” Maverick grunted. “Here it comes.” you listened as they communicated, trying to evade the SAM’s. “Viper, status.” You wanted to answer but you couldn’t as you flew over the ridge and onto the radar.

“Oh fuck,” you muttered, looking overhead as the missiles launched. “Smoke in the air!”

“SAM on your six, Viper!” Payback warned.

“Deploying countermeasures,” you called as you slammed the button. “Negative contact.”

“Dagger one defending.”

“Talk to me, Bob!”

“Break right, Phoenix, break right! Mav, nine o’clock! Nine o’clock!” It was pure chaos as they exploded overhead.

“Viper, two more on your six!” you heard someone say but you couldn’t tell who.

“Dagger Two, defending,” you said as you hit your flare button.

“Payback, SAM on your nose.”

“Dagger Four defending.”

“Viper, tally, tally, seven o’clock!

“Talk to me, Bob!”

“On our six!”

“Dagger Two defending.”

“Phoenix, break right!”

“I see it, I see it!” Everyone’s voices were overlapping as you tried to look out for yourselves and each other, in all your years in the Navy you’d been in some pretty fucked up situations but this one just felt different. You yelled out to Phoenix and watched as she came close to taking a hit, and you could hear Fanboy’s panicked shouts trying to keep up with what was going on around you. You thought that if you had the time you might throw up, but you didn’t.

“Dagger Two, defending,” you said as you looked over your shoulder to see two on your tail. “Fuck, I’m out of flares!”

“Viper, evade, evade!” Maverick shouted and you whipped your jet around but shook your head.

“I can’t shake ‘em! They’re on me, they’re on me!” You watched Maverick’s jet pass overhead as he deployed his flares but gasped when one hit his tail. Your heart sank as you watched what was left of his jet fall out of the sky and tears pricked at your eyes that you quickly blinked away.

“Maverick!” you yelled, trying to turn in your seat to look for a parachute.

“Dagger One is hit! I repeat, Dagger One is hit! Maverick is down!” Phoenix called out as the wreckage of his plane floated down around you.

“Dagger One status? Status!” you asked with no answer. “Anyone see him? Does anyone see him?”

“I didn’t see a parachute,” Payback replied.

“We have to circle back.”

“Comanche. Bandits inbound. Single group, hot. Recommend dagger flow south. One minute to intercept.” There was a pause before you heard, “All daggers flow to ECP.”

“What about Maverick?” you asked, chest tightening at the thought of leaving him behind. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

“Dagger Spare, request permission to launch and fly air cover,” you heard Jake in your ear and you didn’t realize how badly you’d needed to hear the sound of his voice.

“Negative, spare.”

“Dagger, you are not to engage. Repeat, do not engage.” You gripped your controls as you listened to them ask you to acknowledge you heard the order but it all sounded muffled.

“Viper, those bandits are closing,” Phoenix said. “We can’t go back.”

“V, he’s gone. Maverick’s gone,” Bob added and you could hear the sadness in his voice but you weren’t accepting that. You thought of Rooster… of him telling you Maverick had pulled his papers and how despite how angry he was you could see through it to the hurt. He’d lost his father and alienated his only male role model. You thought of him listening in back at the carrier, the regret you knew he would be feeling as he realized Maverick was gone.

“I’m his wingman,” you said firmly. “Daggers flow back to carrier.” you ordered.

“Viper?” “What the fuck are you doing?” Fanboy asked.

“Dagger Two. Return to carrier.” You heard command say but you ignored it.

“Maverick is down which means I’m team leader now, I’m not leaving him behind.”

“Viper, you can’t do anything for him,” Phoenix tried.

“Only if I don’t try. Return to carrier, now.” you ordered again as you flipped around in pursuit of where his jet had fallen. You flicked off your radio and disconnected the overlapping chatter filling your ear. You whizzed back through the canyon and saw Maverick running through the snow covered clearing, trying to evade a helicopter and you used the element of surprise to your advantage… swinging around behind it.

“Dagger Two, deploying missile,” you narrated as you pressed the button but then let out a breathless laugh as you made contact. “Don’t really know who I’m saying that to.” You moved to circle back around and unknowingly triggered a SAM that quickly intercepted you and you cursed as you pulled up on your ejection loops.

You hit the ground with a thud and rolled over onto your back as you let out a groan. “Son of a bitch,” you muttered, “I am so sick of ejecting.” Your muscles ached as you worked on rolling up your parachute and you lifted your head to see Maverick running towards you.

“You alright?” he yelled and you nodded as you stood.

“Yeah, I’m good. You alright?” you asked but were caught off guard when he sent you flying backwards into the snow. “Oh, Jesus,” you muttered as you hit the ground, again. “What the fuck?” you yelled as you got up.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as you threw your helmet to the ground.

“What am I doing here?” 

“You think I took that missile so you could be down here with me? You should be back on the carrier by now!”

“I saved your life!” you shouted.

“I saved your life, that’s the whole point.” he countered and you narrowed your eyes at him as you dusted the snow off your jacket. “What the hell were you even thinking?”

“I’m your wingman!” you shouted, throwing your arms out in exasperation. “That means something to me beyond the mission. I haven’t lost anyone yet and I don’t intend on losing anyone today.” He stared at you for a moment before letting out a sigh.

“Well, it’s good to see you,” he finally said and you put your hands on your hips as you tried to catch your breath.

“Yeah, good to see you too… so, what’s the plan?” you asked and he just gave you that famous Maverick look that said you probably weren’t going to like it.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” you said as you looked at an old plane through your binoculars. “An F-14?”

“I shot down three migs in one of those,” he pointed out and you just gave him an incredulous look.

“We don’t even know if that bag of ass can fly,” you countered.

“Let’s find out!” he said before taking off and your eyes widened.

“Mav!” you whisper-yelled after him. “Okay,” you muttered as you followed suit, stumbling into step with him as you walked out into the open, trying your best to act natural. “There’s a lot of people around.”

“Yeah.”

“There’s more over there.” you said as you looked around as subtly as you could. You knew this mission would be unlike anything you’d ever faced but you really weren’t anticipating being in enemy territory on foot.

“Okay.” he said, looking around. “Let’s start running.”

“Yeah, run.” you agreed, chasing after him into the hangar.

“Once I give you the signal for air, you’re gonna flip this switch until the needle gets to 120. When the engine starts, you gotta pull out the pins and disconnect everything. You understand?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, watching him power it on.

“Once I’m up, stow the ladder,” he yelled as he climbed up and you were quick to fold it away behind him. You gave him a thumbs up as you flipped the switch and watched the dial and when the engine fired on you ran around the jet pulling everything out.

“Ah, shit,” you huffed, struggling slightly as you jumped up onto the wing and climbed into the backseat. “Jesus, this thing is old,” you commented as you looked over everything and tried to make sense of it.

“Canopy?” he asked and you confirmed you were clear.

“Both runways are cratered,” you pointed out. “How are we gonna get this museum piece off the ground?” You looked out the window and furrowed your brows. “Hey Mav, the wings are coming out.”

“Yep.”

“Why are the wings coming out?” you asked but he didn’t answer. “Holy shit, are we really using a taxiway as a runway?” You were absolutely terrified but you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a small part of you that was absolutely exhilarated. 

“Just hang on,” he said and you flew backwards in your seat as he took off. “Come on, come on, come on.”

“Mav?” you asked, looking ahead of him at the structure you were barrelling towards. “Holy shit,” you muttered as you closed your eyes and felt the wheels lift off the ground. You looked down and switched your ESAT on, hoping they’d see you and send reinforcements.

“Alright Viper, get us in touch with the boat.”

“Working on it, everything’s out. What should I do?”

“First the radio. Throw the uh… the UHF2 circuit breaker. Try that.”

“Sure, I’m not looking at like three hundred breakers or anything… got anything more specific?”

“I don’t know, that was not my department,” he answered and you nodded.

“Where’s Bob when you need him?” you muttered as you leaned down to fiddle with what you could find and your eyes widened when you looked beneath you. “Mav, tally two, five o’clock low. What do we do?”

“Okay, listen. Just be cool. If they knew who we were, we’d be dead already.”

“That’s comforting… what’s the plan?”

“Just put your mask on. Remember, we’re on the same team.” you watched as they pulled up beside you. “Just wave and smile.” You forced a smile as you watched the other pilot gesture with his hands but it wasn’t anything you were familiar with.

“What is that, what’s he saying?”

“No idea. I have no idea what he’s saying.”

“What about that one?” you asked as they changed gestures. “Any idea?”

“Nope, never seen that one either.” Maverick played dumb as he tapped his helmet and gave a thumbs down. “Shit, his wingman is moving into weapons envelope. Alright, listen up. When I tell you, you grab those rings above your head. That’s the ejection handle.”

“Can we outrun them?” you asked, not exactly keen on the idea of punching out for a third time in as many weeks.

“Not their missiles and guns.”

“Then it’s a dogfight,” you said, and he sighed.

“An F-14 against fifth-gen fighters?”

“It’s not the plane, it’s the pilot. What would you do if I wasn’t here?”

“But you are here,” he said and you could hear the apprehension in his tone. “I don’t intend on losing anyone today,” he repeated your earlier words.

“So don’t. Come on, Mav. Don’t think, just do.” He was silent for a moment and your hands flew to brace yourself as he jolted to the side and laid into one of the other jets.

“Tell me when you see smoke in the air,” he ordered and you twisted in your seat to watch behind you.

“Smoke in the air! Smoke in the air!”

“Hang on!” He dropped a missile and led the other plane directly into it.

“Splash one! Splash one!” you cheered, still trying to find your bearings as the plane jolted around. “Here comes another one!”

“Viper, flares, now now now!” he called and you pressed the button, watching as they intercepted the missile. “Splitting the throttles, coming around,” he said as you grunted and placed a hand on the ceiling. “Give me tone, give me tone.”

“You got him, Mav!”

“Taking the shot,” he said as he deployed and you watched the other plane do an evasion maneuver you’ve seen before. “What the-”

“Holy shit,” you said, watching him practically float past your canopy. “What the fuck was that?”

“Hang on, we’ve gotta get low. The terrain will confuse his targeting system.”

“Here he comes!” you shouted as he was hot on your tail.

“Talk to me, Viper, where is he?”

“He’s still on us,” you managed to get out as you bounced from side to side of the canopy. “We took a hit, we took a hit!”

“Damn it.”

“Come on Mav, do some of that pilot shit!” 

“Brace yourself.” You quickly rose in altitude and you struggled to get a breath in as you went careening back into the valley. “I’ve got tone, taking the shot.” he said and you watched the other plane take it out with countermeasures. “Out of missiles, switching to guns.”

“You got him, Mav!” you yelled as the distance lessened.

“It’s not over yet,” he replied. “One last chance.” You watched him use his last round of ammunition to rip into the top of the other jet and you let out a cheer when it crashed into the rocky hillside.

“Yes! Splash two!” you said before you went back to fiddling with the controls, trying to recall anything from initial training back in the day and you exhaled in relief when the system in front of you came to life. “Mav, I got the radio on!”

“Outstanding, get us in touch with the boat.”

“Copy that,” you said just as alarms started ringing. “What the fuck? Where even is he?”

“He’s on our nose,” Maverick said and you really wished you didn’t hear the dread in his tone. “We’re out of ammo. Smoke in the air, Viper, flares!” 

“That was way too close,” you said. “We’re out of flares, Mav! Shit, he’s already on us.” you grunted as bullets began hitting your jet. “This is not good!” Maverick did his best to try and evade but it wasn’t any use. “We took another hit!”

“No, no, no. no!”

“We can’t take much more of this!”

“We can’t outrun this guy, we gotta eject.”

“What?” you yelled, panic creeping into your voice.

“We need altitude. Pull the ejection handles the second I tell you to.”

“Mav, wait-” you started but he cut you off.

“Viper, there’s no other way. Eject, eject, eject!” he ordered and you reached above you to pull on the loops but they were stuck. “Viper, pull the handle, eject!”

“It’s not working!” you yelled back, still trying. “Mav!” You were still rising in altitude and you pressed your hands against the canopy as you realized this was it. You weren’t getting out of this. You thought of Jake, how he was going to have to tell Sadie… how it was going to fall on him to tell your parents not only were you in the Navy but that you were dead. You thought about Christmas Eve’s with him in middle school, dancing with him at his senior prom because even though you were a freshman he’d much rather have danced with you, and laughing at his old school photos while he watched you walk around the museum that was his childhood bedroom with a bottle of whiskey in your hand. It’s not that he sees you as his little sister’s best friend, it’s the fact that he doesn’t. 

“Oh my god,” you whispered, realization washing over you. I know Sadie’s your best friend, but just so you know… you’re mine.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Maverick said and you flinched when you heard an explosion but exhaled in relief when you realized it wasn’t you. You turned to see what was left of the enemy jet floating down to the water as an F-18 emerged through the smoke. Your eyes were wide as you tried to process what was happening… were you actually dead? Is this what the afterlife is?

“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, this is your savior speaking.” Jake started and you let out a breathless laugh as he pulled up beside you. “Please fasten your seatbelts, return your tray tables to their locked and upright positions, and prepare for landing.”

“Jake…” you said, looking over at him in disbelief.

“Hey sunshine,” he replied. “I’ll see you back on deck.” he said before flying ahead of you and you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled past your lips as the adrenaline worked its way through your system.

“Maverick is downwind. No front landing gear. No tail hook. Pull the cable and raise the barricade,” Maverick communicated as you buzzed the tower and you giggled.

“Cyclone hated that,” you muttered and Maverick chuckled as you circled around and felt a jolt. “For the love of god, please don’t tell me we just lost an engine,” you sighed.

“Alright, I won’t tell you that,” he replied. You grunted as you hit the deck and flew forward in your seat at the impact before coming to a screeching halt. You were both silent for a moment, in disbelief that you actually made it back. “You good?” he finally asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you answered as the canopy raised and you were met with the cheers of all of the crewmen and your teammates. As your feet hit the ground it actually crossed your mind to drop to your knees and kiss the disgusting tarmac you were so grateful for but you had someone to find. Phoenix threw her arms around you and you reciprocated the hug but you were searching the crowd over her shoulder, muttering half-hearted thanks to the people congratulating you and you pushed everyone away as you started walking.

“Sunshine!” you heard and you turned around and finally saw him. You exhaled sharply as you ran towards him but he held out a hand that stopped you in your tracks. “What the hell were you thinking? I thought you were dead,” he shouted over the commotion and you knew you probably should have been apologizing, or explaining yourself but instead you just smiled as you looked up at him. You could see about a dozen emotions on his face, but the one you were focusing on was the one that had been there all along… you’d just been too slow to realize it. “Why are you smiling? This isn’t funny, you really scared the shit out of me. That was reckless, and it- I… Fuck sunshine, I love you so much, I can’t ever go through thinking you’re dead again. Are you even- shit, are you okay? Let me look-” you knew he wasn’t going to stop on his own so you reached out and grabbed onto his flight suit with a smirk, pulling him into you and pressing your lips to his. He reciprocated immediately and you smiled into the kiss as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He lifted you off the ground as the cheers magnified around you.

“About damn time,” Rooster muttered from beside you but you didn’t care.

“I love you too, idiot,” you said when you pulled away and he set you back down but kept his arms firmly around your waist. “Chalked yourself another kill, looks like I’m going to have to even the score.”

“Always so competitive,” he said with a shake of his head before kissing you again and you pulled away when you felt a hand on your shoulder to see Maverick. He was looking at you with so much pride and gratitude that was only mirrored on your own face.

“Thank you for saving my life,” he said and you felt tears prick at your eyes.

“Thank you for saving mine, sir,” you replied and held out your hand for him to shake, but when he took it he only pulled you in for a hug. You watched him start to disappear into the crowd and quickly turned to grab Rooster by the collar and you gave him a look that had his eyes widening in fear. “I didn’t do that for Mav, I did that for you. Go,” you said firmly, shoving him in the direction Maverick had gone.

“You know, you could have just told me. You didn’t have to be an ass about it,” you said, looking up at Jake who rolled his eyes playfully.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked as you hit his arm. “I didn’t know… not until I thought it was too late,” he said, voice lowering as he stepped closer and placed a hand on your cheek, brushing his thumb against your cheekbone to wipe away a falling tear.

“I thought I’d realized too late,” you whispered as he pressed his lips to your forehead. 

“Now we have all the time in the world… after we get our asses handed to us for deliberately disobeying orders,” he said, pulling away when he noticed Cyclone approaching and you chuckled as you looked over your shoulder.

“Hey, if we get dishonorably discharged at least we’re alive and have each other, right?” 

“That’s all we need.”

ONE YEAR LATER

“Cheers to the one year anniversary of Dagger Squad,” Phoenix said as all of your glasses clinked together and you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face as you looked around the room at your team.

“And begrudgingly, cheers to Cyclone who, in his own words, completely disagreed with our tactics and lack of respect for authority, but couldn’t deny the overall effectiveness of our squad,” you added as everyone laughed and you leaned into Jake beside you. “Happy Dagger-versary everyone.”

“Cheers!” everyone shouted as you sank back into your previous conversations and you looked up at Jake as you took a sip of your beer.

“It’s our one year too,” you pointed out and he smirked down at you.

“Don’t you worry, sunshine, I’ve got a whole thing planned,” he said and you smiled as

you rested your head against his chest. “How lucky am I to have had you following me around for the majority of my life?”

You pulled away and playfully hit his arm, “when you say it like that it makes me sound so juvenile!” you protested and he just laughed.

“Hey, those are your words. Besides, you’re the one who followed me into the Navy…”

“And hid from you for eight years!” you said, pretending to be mad but your laughter gave you away.

“It’s okay, you just wanted to follow in the footsteps of the greatest pilot in the world. No one could ever blame you for that.” he teased.

“Are you conveniently forgetting you admitted I was the better pilot?”

“Yeah, but then I saved your life, so…” you narrowed your eyes before leaning up to peck his lips.

“Thanks for that, by the way.” 

“Anytime, sunshine… anytime.”

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