#*pilot intercom voice*

[meanscarletdeceiver]

In which everyone is all "#LetItBe🙏" while Thomas the Tank Engine and for that matter Gordon is very much all "ummm actually? actually?? #$^#& that #&@*% actually??????"

also featuring Donald's second-best spotlight-stealing scene in the fic. god help me i can't tell this engine 'no'.

[screampied]

❝ HELL ON HEELS . . ! ❞

ᡴꪫ sum. it's your third day on the job as a flight attendant. you work around a lot of snobby rich elites, but a particular one catches your eye. a particular one who tips you $300 dollars in cash and wants way more than just your uninvited attention.

wc. 6.5k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, this is how gojo and reader meet, mile high club trope, flight attendant reader, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), semi public sēx, praise kink, degradation, dry humping, squırting, spanking, edging.

an. thank u to everyone who voted for this on the poll <3

➤ sd!gojo masterlist

the low-pitched whirring of the plane’s engine was quite loud. white noise could be heard through first class as you walked alongside the aisle. with a heavy sigh, you’d just wish the day would be over. the overall duration of the flight was about a good two hours, not too bad but you were already over it. dealing with haughty a-list celebrities or elites as a whole wasn’t for the weak. a majority of them were rude, snobby, and just stuck up individuals. except for one . .

as thick pieces of rubber stick against your heels and clank against the carbon fibre floor, you sashay through and from the rows before a cheeky voice calls over to you. “excuseee me, miss ‘ttendant,” and you crane your neck to where it was coming from. sat right by the window near the left— draped in nothing but a sable-black tuxedo with a pricey g-shock wrapping around his wrist, he simpers. “do you ahh, mind if you . . ?”

“huh,” you quirk your eyebrows into a brow before he nods his head up toward the cabin compartment above all of the seats. “oh,” you give him a soft smile. he takes a quick glance at your name tag that’s glued on the left side of your blazer. you lean over against him, reaching towards the latch to pull it down. the more you get close to him, the more you smell his cologne. it’s so strong, you were sure it was some kind of expensive designer brand. a small grunt leaves your lips as you stretch before just when you’re about to pry open the cabinet, the plane grumbles with a rude shake. a rude shake in which you fall—right onto the older man’s lap who’s got the smuggest grin.

“we’re experiencing a bit of turbulence up here, sincerest apologizes passengers..”

the pilot mutters through the intercom— it’s blaring through the speakers. he talks for about seven seconds, as well as reminding for everyone to have their seatbelts on at all times before he stops.

as if things couldn’t have been anymore embarrassing, your face lands right into his crotch. “oh my god—i’m so sorry sir,” you try to atone, sitting up and as you’re up so close to him, you take a moment to actually get a good glimpse at the man.

he was pretty, simply no denying it. you knew him from anywhere. gojo satoru, the gojo satoru. the snowy white hair was a dead giveaway.

he was more of a well known business man—a ceo of some hot shot company. he had his own clothing brand, does lots of men photoshoots, and even modeled a bit in his early twenties. although, the more you gawk at him, the more it seems like he barely even aged. gojo looks like he was still in his twenties, he had a bit of a stubble but was quite really well shaved. azul-blue eyes return the stare right back at you as you take in his prepossessing features for just a bit longer.

god, he was handsome.

gojo’s hair was neatly neat, a simple slick back of a sort with a few strands of white hair running down his face. he brings a wrist up to his face to rub his mouth before covertly humming. “. . oh, am i that good lookin’, princess?”

you gulp once he catches you staring, and then it hits you again,

you were still dumbly laid on his lap as he’s gazing into your eyes with the most complacent grin. “i-i’m sorry,” you mumble, cringing at your own stutter. thankfully, it was probably about four am, it was a private jet and only a few other passengers scattered around the sectioned row. sitting up, you rub your neck sheepishly before sighing. “i . . don’t usually fall on passengers during on my shifts.”

“heh well i’d hope not,” he teases. “oh, and don’t worry about getting my luggage by the way,” and his eyes trail you down before he glances at your name tag again. “hm, i think i’d like to request something else though,” and the more you stare into his pretty cerulean eyes, the more you get lost in them.

his eyes were equivalent to a maze, you’re always getting lost in his pretty irises—never finding your way out. “you’re probably all sore from walkin’ around in those heels, how ‘bout you take a little break?”

and he was right. the entire lower parts of your calves were a bit sore, so you do. you take a break . . although,

your 'break' mainly consists of you being hunched over, propped up in front of gojo’s seat with him eating you out from behind like a starved man. your bottom lip feels all numb and puffed from chewing on it for so long. your lips part into an exaggerated ‘o’ as your head’s repeatedly being pressed against the back of the airplane seat in front of you. the softly made material rubs against your face and you moan. some older woman was snoring in the front of it, headphones plugged in both sides of her ears.

thank god, you prayed whatever heavy metal track she was listening to would distract her slumber from hearing your loud, whiny moans.

alas again, by ‘break’, you didn’t expect this but you weren’t exactly complaining either. with gojo’s tongue rummaging against your clit, it had you gasping for desperate various breaths. “s-sirrrr,” you whimper, a lewd smile pursing against your lips. two broad hands of his had your jade-colored business skirt pulled up all the way to the very hem of your torso— just about reaching near your now wrinkled blazer. as you sling an arm over the seat in front of you, you whine once his nose prods against your soddened entrance. “ngh, ‘m gettin’ close again i think. f-fuck, right there.”

“please, call me satoru, baby,” he whispers against your pussy. you shudder from the coldness of his breath aerating against your bare skin—you whine once his palm swats by your right ass cheek, giving it a mean spank. “ooh,” he coos from the recoil of your rear. so pretty, it was quite funny how things even escalated so quickly.

right before he was buried into the depths of your plush thighs, you were just chatting with him. gojo had a charm to him. he was a lot different from the other stuck up elites you occasionally dealt with. he was quite easy to talk to. you make it a habit to talk to each passenger, despite how snobby they might come across anyway.

with him though, he was a pure smooth talker.

gojo showered you with a plethora of compliments. it came natural, it didn’t seem forced—he’d point out your pretty eye color, your hair, just anything. with your job, you were used to getting a few compliments here and there—but he’d go all out, all out in a way where it makes your heart flutter and fly. you’re rutting your ass against his face, loving the way his wet tongue curls into a few alphabetic letters. he’s just filthy. each breath that escapes from your lips as if it was being held captive felt like it was gonna be its last.

“so . . fuckin’ sweet,” he purrs, dragging a thumb down your slit for a moment. gojo takes a second to admire the way you easily soak in his digit, such a breathtaking sight inside. lewd, but breathtaking. “mhm, look at her givin’ me a little show. move your ass against my face a little more, sweetheart. yeah, fuck.”

your heart does jumping jacks at his dialogue. his voice was deep, rich—and seductive.

the silvery band of his watch continues to skim all across your skin as your hips judder. you shiver, feeling yourself about to reach your inevitable orgasmic peak before you moan out loud. you tried to suppress your noises, you did—but it was no use. you’re already biting at your hardened knuckles but oh, his tongue.

every few seconds, he’d break away to spit and slobber on your pussy. his nose consistently smears all against your folds, getting you ten times more wetter than you already were. he’s nasty, making sure you keep that arch for him. your skirt was pulled up and all wrinkled. the teeth-shattering stimulation makes you feel nerves surge all throughout your body like galvanic electricity.

“s- satoruuu.” you’d huff out in tiny pants, feeling your tummy cave in a few times. your sweet moan, its like a tune—a harmony, hell, it was melodic. he’d listen to you whine his name like that all day if he could. a gentle hand of his runs down your twitching leg, giving every part of your body from behind attention.

he was starting to get addicted, you were too sweet . . candied even, it was dangerous. he’s always had a bit of a sweet tooth anyways and perhaps you were his new favorite treat.

the raving pace of his tongue was simply relentless. you’re gripping onto the back of the seat for dear life, barely able to keep up with him.

ethereal ivory lashes of his open and close every millisecond that passes. it’s as if time was going slow for you— of course it was though, considering how you were thousands of feet in the air. you don’t know why, but the thought of someone just walking by and stumbling upon you all bent over for a passenger,

not just a passenger but the gojo satoru . .

you’d be lying a bit if you said it didn’t turn you on a bit. you knew it was against policy to screw on the job, in the air at that, but it was the middle of the night and partly everyone onboard was asleep anyway. having some affluent attractive guy right between your thighs, you were living the dream. you thought this only happened in the movies.

“aw, don’t give up on me just yet, pretty,” he soothes a tune against your cunt. after a while, gojo’s speedy flicking of his tongue transitioning to pure sucks. you’re shaking within the suction of his mouth. it’s almost too much to bare yet you didn’t want him to stop. he knows just the right tempo to make you roll your eyes back too. with prying hands, gojo’s spreading open your ass a bit more to lick a deeper area with his tongue. you zealously whine once he playfully uses a thumb to poke against your puckering hole. “mhm, yeah. thaaaat’s it, but don’t be so loud though, princess. i know we’re in the back row but still, heh.”

and with that— he gifts your ass another smack. he proudly relishes in your lewd, pornographic reactions. you’re an entire mess and he’s slurping your fervor shamelessly.

“s- satoruuuu, fuck f-fuck,” your breathing starts to significantly pick up. with your chest continuing to sink in and out, he briefly sneaks his dampened lips away from your entrance to bite near your thighs. the way you were shaking to him was just so cute. the white noise that continues to sing and reverb throughout the plane’s structure grew louder. or . . that was just the ringing through your ears—regardless, it was between that noise and the sounds of your own obscene pleasure that had a competition. a competition on who could be the most louder. your name-tag that’s still pressed against your blazer remains to rub off against the fabric of the seat in front of you.

your perked nipples snag in the process as you’re arching a bit more before a wail dies out your throat. “i- i’m gonna cu— oh!”

“another few hits of turbulence, folks. please stay in your seatbelts. time of arrival should be around six thirty am..”

you bring a hand over your mouth in a cute attempt to silence yourself as you’re meeting your high—listening to the pilot, you sob out a squeal from the inside of your palm. gojo’s slurping you up again with his tongue, your grinding against his face makes him chuckle. with his jaw tightening a bit, he doesn’t care—you were so sweet, he could eat you out all day. not to mention, he was quite thirsty. instead of having you retrieve one of his bags, he was gonna originally ask for a glass of water. but this quenched his thirst a lot better in his humblest opinion. his warm breath fans against your cunt all the while you feel his stubble tickle near the undersides of your thighs. “mmph.” you moan, peeking in front of you to still see the old lady knocked out cold. with the way you were rocking into the back of her seat— you were surprised she didn’t wake up. you were glad she didn’t though. otherwise, you’d embarrass yourself yet again.

with your orgasm still having its moment, you start to calm down a bit. he’s still slithering his tongue down your folds, savoring your taste as if it’s the last thing on the planet. his chin was coated with all of your slick, and he snickers before dragging a thumb to get another taste. “good girl. give it to me, ride my—ride my tongue, uh huhhh.”

a swarm of butterflies wanders around inside of your tummy from his words—his tone, it was so soft yet the dialogue that spoke out was just downright dirty. you pulse between your thighs and it only makes you crave him more.

as you’re still arched over in front of him, you take a few hard gulps to swallow as you’re finishing your perfect nirvana state. ecstasy, just ecstasy overtakes your entire body as he gives your pussy it’s final sucks and nibbles. once he finishes, he’s still sat in his chair. spinning you around, he gives you a warm smile.

“c’mere, sweetheart..”

out of breath and pants snatching out of your full lungs with ease—you move into him with your eyes half-lidded. “. . . atta girl, taste how sweet you are. gimme a kiss,” and you get on top of him. sliding off your heels, you get onto gojo’s lap. now straddling him, you lean into a steamy, hot kiss. two hefty built arms of his wrap around your waist, pulling you in close. once your lips meet, it’s just utterly sloppy.

throwing your arms around him and tugging on his tucked out collar, you deepen the kiss. he groans at your enthusiasm, allowing his hands to glide against every inch of your body. gojo’s fingertips dance against the pieces of clothing you wore, despite it being so few. your blazer was still on and yet couldn’t help but rock against his lap as your tongue parts inside of his mouth. gojo’s head leans back as you’re enjoying yourself. but all of a sudden, you moan once you feel it. 

his boner, right in the middle part of his pants. gojo satoru was hard—hard for you.

he grunts lowly, a hand of his snaking up your leg as you taste the sweet remnants of your own flavor on his tongue. the closer you are to him, the closer you get a nice everlasting sniff of his cologne. so manly, it’s a rich scent that you could never get enough of. it was so strong—roaming through the air so much that it almost gave you a headache. 

“fuck,” he sibilates. a single hissing word that comes from his mouth makes you throb oh so easily. you’re swaying your hips against him and his adam’s apple bobs back in rapture. every few seconds, he pulls away to leave a wet slope of kisses down your neck. a hand of yours tugs against his tie that was neatly worn on him. “damn girl you’re kinda kinky,” and he finally pulls away, teasingly biting on your bottom lip before finally departing. “i’m startin’ to like you.”

“more,” you murmur, leaning in to nip a wet kiss of your own near the crooked crevices of his mouth. naturally parted lips of his twitch, causing him to wryly smile back at you. “i need more, sir. we have a few more hours left. please.”

“baby, you can call me satoru. cut the formal shit yeah?” and his voice was a pitchy low, an almost rasp hidden underneath. a hand of his gently grabs your chin and you’re met with the most prettiest eyes. if it wasn’t his long lashes, it was his celestially blue eyes. so blue that it was as if you were star gazing at a summer sky. gojo satoru a pretty man, no doubt. he hums to himself in amusement at your cute doe-eyed expression, hungry for more. sitting on his boner was already torture enough, you just wanted him inside. 

sure, you were technically working but you didn’t care about that. “satoruuuu,” he’s being playful, a thumb still pulling down your bottom lip. as you’re both maintaining such intimate eye contact, his voice softens once more. gojo’s hand slides its way between your thighs before he raises a brow in a taunting manner. “what do you want satoru to do to you? tell me, girl.”

“t- touch me.” you almost whine out, it yanks out from your throat so pathetically. the throbbing you were feeling behind your panties only turned into straight convulses. 

playfully, he tilts his head with a smile. “yeah? touch ya where.”

“i gotta spell it out for you?” you pout, and he chuckles at your frustrated attitude. you start to jerk your hips against his lap and he holds your waist in place to bring those movements to a stop. “f-fuck, ‘s hard.”

stroking a thumb against your quivering lips, his minty breath hits against your nose—you smell it and it’s minty fresh. a scent of what seemed to be some kind of tangy beverage and a gum like substance. with a mocking tone, he presses a kiss against your nose before jibing. “i just wanna know where ‘m gonna put my hands on this pretty body. that’s all,” and his voice was so smooth, an almost purr. with a chortle, he moves a few strands of hair out of your view of sight before continuing his words. “now now, i’ll ask again, pretty. where do ya want me to touch you? let’s be descriptive this time.”

“between my t-thighs,” you confess, already soaked from him devouring your pussy just merely seconds ago. the shocking friction between both bodies had you feral, had you dizzy, had you stupid.

gojo gradually brings a hand down before you press a hand against his chest, pouting again. “actually, i want you to fuck me. please, satoru.”

“there we go, good girl. ‘n heh, aw i figured,” he cheeses, licking a single stripe up your neck. “mhm, you’ll have to ride me though. ‘s only so many positions you can do on a plane, heh.”

you barely let him finish your sentence before you start to unbuckle his pants. you’re so quick with it. gojo stares at the way you’re so desperate, taking it off the tiny hooks before yanking his belt all the way off. seconds later, you’re pulling down his pants toward his ankles. “ooh,” his eyes flicker towards your chest as you start to align yourself against his lap. you take a moment to stare at his now exposed cock and it was so pretty. lengthy if anything, a leaky mushroom like tip that was a bit reddened. he was so hard too, just gawking at his heavyset bulge that had you almost drooling. gojo leans back, rubbing against his thigh before flashing you a cheesy smile. “wellllll,” he sings. “don’t be shy girl. get on up here. ride all that stress away from work, pretty thing.”

he was so cocky, yet you were so needy. 

as you’re still aligning him, your damp entrance rubs off against the head of his tip. it’s peeling open a bit, the skin that attaches to the frenulum was just so mesmerizing to look at. it’s got a pinkish color, almost red. shortly following, a mere tannish color flushes on his cock near the base down. you moan once he grabs ahold of his length, helping you adjust. 

“easy . . easy baby, i gotcha,” he sighs, feeling your warmth slowly swallow him whole. those short seconds you spend taking in gojo’s dick feels like long, consecutive hours.

you’re dripping wet. as you straddle his lap, preparing to ride him, he slouches back in such a sexy way. manspread—gojo grunts out a single breath as his chest deflates. shifting his gaze towards your cunt, he spreads open your folds to get a better view. “ughhh, look at how she opens up for me. ‘s fuckin’ nasty,” he groans, staring dead at your cunt. you were indeed coating him with your slick from the base down. “give it to me, upside daisey, yeah.”

you’re taking his inches as the seconds go by before after a while—you plop down, feeling him bottom out already. gojo moans, gifting your ass with another spank. “f-fuck ‘toru,” you hiss, knowing that was a non-verbal sign for you to start up your hips. a cooling air that passes through the plane sets against your skin as you move. you whine, feeling his hands trickle alongside the secretive edges of your thighs. “touch me more, l- like that.”

“i don’t remember saying you could tell me what to do,” he meets your eyes as you start to thrust forward. he’s got the most impish grin stretching against his lips. gojo grips your chin for what was probably the nth time within this hour before he grins. “nuh uh, don’t look away. i wanna see those gorgeous eyes,” and he sneaks another wet kiss against your mouth. “ride it like you own it baby.”

you start off realllll slow, 

sashaying your hips up and down against his lap in the most alluring way. all six eyes were on you and only you..

your arms still wrap around him and he’s keeping eye contact with you the entire time. with your blazer practically ruffled and wrinkled, you continue to move yourself against him. gojo’s cock stretches you out in such a way you didn’t even know was possible. your walls craved him, you craved him.

as he leans further back, a hand’s still glued to your ass before he smacks it . . again.

he pats it afterwards, watching a cute sour expression slowly marinate against your facial features. 

gojo giggles at your cute noises, it doesn’t take long before you bury your face into the crook of his neck, gnawing your teeth against his collared shirt. “f-fuck, satoru,” you’d whine out, feeling his grip tighten against your ass. his cologne’s got your head spinning like a merri-go-round, giving you whiplash in all the right ways. “s-so big, stretchin’ me.”

“takin’ it so good, baby,” he licks against the lobe of your ear.  his breath against your neck was warm—not so cold anymore. two rough hands grasp onto your active hips, encouraging you to go more forward, more faster. “good girl, mhm, fuck me like that. use those hips for me, yeahh.”

his dick curves through every part of your walls as if it’s exploring. you feel him reach deep within every part and it’s driving you toward the first street of crazy.

breathy pants skate out from your lips as you’re swinging yourself back and forth against him. “s-satoru,” you whimper, feeling his hands continue to feel against the bare bottom parts of your ass. you could feel the bands of rings he wore rub off against your skin also, so fridgly cold. “f-fuck, ‘s good. mhm, fuck.”

“you’re so pretty,” he groans, the brief sounds of skin slapping resounding through your ears. it’s loud, almost sonorous.

his hair was getting a bit ruffled and unkempt, adding to his suave, mature features.

as he looks off into the nearly empty dim lit aisle, a silhouette appears—someone’s coming. it’s a familiar sound of heels hitting against the floor and you were too occupied of being horny to turn your head. at first, you barely even notice as you’re still grinding against his lap. “oh shit,” gojo gasps, grabbing the sides of your hips, suddenly bringing you to a stop. with a sly smile, he hums against your ear. “baby, don’t freak but i think your co-worker’s coming.”

“w- what?” you murmur, and he makes you spin around, still having his heavy cock hidden into the swollen depths of your cunt. glancing up, it was one of your co-workers coming. in a weak attempt to fix your nearly messed up blazer that was about to pop, you lean against his chest. “who— where?”

as he’s pressed right up against you, you’re met with a playful deep voice against your ear. “relax. act like you’re totally not cockwarming me, obviously,” and he runs a few fingers down your uniform, feeling you shift your hips a bit at his touch. gojo tries to make it look like you were just sitting on his lap, moving a cover over you and him from the waist down. you feel so full, you were growing more and more needy, a pout comes onto your lips because you didn’t want to stop so abruptly. you just wanted to keep riding him, but of course—you were working. “play it cool, baby.”

“um, is everything okay?” one of your fellow co-worker flight attendants, serena murmurs.

with a furrowing brow, she takes in the sight in front of her. you, happily straddling a passenger's lap whilst you’re heaving as if you’d just finish a 5k race. “we’ve been some getting complaints about noises. also, you need to restock the snacks near back. we’re runnin’ low on peanuts.”

“y-yeah, ‘m fine,” you sheepishly nod, knowing how fishy this entire scene might have looked. gojo’s dick was just idly enshrouded into your cunt, just one move and you’d be fucked. technically, you already were fucked. he’s tracing a finger against your thighs before you exhale. “but uh— can’t you restock?”

“i would but that’s not my job,” she snaps with an eye roll. gojo chortles at your co-worker’s attitude, he presses a single kiss against your neck and you almost moan. her facial expressions twist in disgust before she backs away. “anyways, just go restock,” and as she twists her heels to walk away, she utters under her breath. “weirdos. i don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

gojo lets out a breathy laugh as you finally moan again—it’s taking everything out of you and you start up the jolting of your hips again. “f-fuck, ‘m close, ‘toru,” you whimper, the friction feeling like hot static dragging against your legs. “mhm, ‘s good.”

“you’re even more dirtier than i thought, princess,” he whispers, a hand playfully wrapping around your throat as you’re moving your hips back. “i bet your co-worker put two ‘n two together. you could have been a little more believable.”

you’re moaning, his touch sending you more deadly shivers before you feel a coil within you squeeze shut tight. the beat of your heat grows rapid and your pupils dilate from pure pleasurable lust. you’re getting close again, it’s coming so quick that you barely have any time to breathe.

his aromatic cologne nearly blinds your sinuses before you feel against his neck with your palm. “i . . i don’t care if she knows,” you mumble with a scowl, feeling his base continuously rub against your entrance. you’re coating him with nothing but a pretty viscous sheet of your slick. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum again.”

“yeah? what if i want you to wait?” he purrs, his sloping trail of kisses turning into sucks. you whine, leaning into his touch as he’s stuffing your insides full of thick cock. jello—your legs felt like jello, barely even able to move. the warmth against him had you hungry for more. it was addictive, you didn’t know what it was. you didn’t get like this for any other passenger, yet here you were. your mouth croons open, whining out a single harmony at his pace. he’s still making you grind back against him, the tempo having your head going for a spin every time. “what if i want you to be a good attendant ‘n wait just a bit longer f’me?”

“but—”

“nuh uh,” he snickers, bringing a smack to your ass. “wait for me, pretty. this pussy’s gonna make a mess when i want her to.”

and he creeps a hand down between your jittery legs, rubbing a few circles against your already sopping wet cunt. a gasp wretches from your throat as you’re laid back against his chest. the rugged fabric of his tuxedo top whisks against your skin and you’re babbling out sweet nothings.

“f-fuck, ‘m not gonna last,” you whine, feeling yourself throb at the way his thumb brushes against your throat. he’s feeling the vibrations of your gruttural moans and it’s so cute. by this point, you’d already forgotten you were thirty thousand feet in the air. thirty thousand feet in the air and you were getting your pussy destroyed by one of your passengers. 

not just any passenger though, 

gojo satoru. 

he’s panting right with you as you’re just bouncing on his lap, two soft padded hands gripping against his thighs. as you bite your lip, your ass thrashes back gainst him and he hisses. “just like that, pretty girl. shiiiiit, ‘m gonna cum too.”

with his deep penetrative thrusts, it’s got you going ditzy. as he starts to spank against your puffy cunt, he nibbles against your collarbone. “you wanna cum with me, yeah? ‘s that why you keep dragging y’r nails into my leg?”

“s—sir,” you desperately spat, but he spanks your cunt again so you could switch your words around. “ngh, i mean satoru. wanna cum with you, pleaseplease. ‘s good, want it, finish in me.”

“my, well when ya ask like that,” he hums, and you feel the sharpness of his hips pivot. gojo groans, standing up before he lies you back against the now reclined seat. “lie back, baby. actually, changed my mind. i wanna push those pretty knees up to your chest.” 

panting, you lie back against the now lounged seat. gojo flashes you that same sly grin before he lifts up your leg—bringing a sweet kiss toward your ankle. “you can lose your license over this, you know? dirty girl, lettin’ your pussy think for ya instead of that brain, huh?”

“don’t care,” you moan, watching him quickly align his cock against your slit. gojo grunts, feeling you easily swallow his tip up again. your cunt was clingy, he was very much addicted to your slippery sloppy core. with his pants halfway on and hanging down to his ankles, he starts up a rapid pace again. “uh, uh,” you whimper again and again, your thighs instinctively wrapping around his waist. you’re keeping him warm from the inside, raw moans pulling out of your esophagus like it was nothing. “right there, ‘m gonna cum, please. s-sir, fuck me.”

“satoru,” he corrects you, a hand gripping your chin. pretty blue eyes leer down at you and he’s so close to you. as he’s jackhammering his cock into your sobbing swollen walls—eyes of your own goggle into gojo’s as he’s fucking you silly. you probably look a mess from this view, the heel of your foot grazing down his strong back muscles. gojo hears the sloshing squelches your own pussy makes and you feel the sudden throb arise from his dick. he twitches inside you and it makes his head throw back. after he gains composure again, he exhales deeply, tapping a thumb against your sealed lips.“you don’t gotta be formal when ‘m inside, princess,” and he squeezes your lips together, licking near the bottom. “open.”

you’re whining, his tempo growing quicker and you’re so close. crimson-carmine lips of his twitch into a feral smile once he sees you being so easy to comply. with your lips parting open, you tilt your head back before he spits into your mouth.

“theeeere’s your tip,” he teases, pursing your lips together with two fingers as you swallow. your cunt still gripping against him as he then pulls you into a deep kiss. with your legs clutching around his waist. “uh, manners baby. where’s my thank you?”

“t- thank you, ‘toru.” you breathe, feeling your cunt throb even quicker.

“oh, you’re welcome,” he smiles and he can’t help but giving you another kiss on the mouth shortly afterwards. the lustful stare he’s giving you could almost be described as lecherous has you more sopping wet by the second. with your legs tightly and securely keeping him from breaking away, he groans. right into your mouth, his tongue collides against yours before he sucks on it. as he brings you into a loving kiss again, gojo’s girth has you feeling a sudden arch in your back arise the moment you sit up. you’re being fucking into the reclined seat, his weight almost crushing against but it feels so good. “mhmmm, ‘m gonna cum. gonna spill so much inside of you, pretty.”

“don’t waste any,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around him. you didn’t even care how unprofessional this was. in the back of your mind, you’re thinking to yourself— if someone walked in again, who cares? not you. “please.”

“well aren’t you a doll,” gojo murmurs in a cooing tone, shoving your knees all the way up near your chest. you’re preparing yourself as you’re about to reach your final pleasurable demise. it feels almost tickling, the fat tip of his cock repeatedly kisses against that same spot within you. you’re whines sound almost melodic, not even caring if your pilot a few seats back heard. “look at me.” he taps your bottom shaking lip, leaning in to plant another kiss on your lips. one turns into two, then three, then four . .

and then— his phone rings.

you’re still a moaning mess, feeling your legs just about give out as he’s pressing such amounts of weight on top of you. gojo’s hands fondle with your neglected breasts that laid underneath your blazer. he groans, reaching for his phone near the counter of the seat. with a grunt, he answers. “tch. satoru gojo.”

still snugly shoved deep inside, he’s multitasking. one hand holds onto the left side of your waist, another holding his phone up against his cheek. he’s drilling into you so mercilessly as if his occupation was a construction worker. you whine, the scratching itch never leaving you. once it comes, it comes. “suguru, ‘m kinda busy. can this wai— oh f…fuck.”

in an abrupt gasp, he ends up finishing first. it’s so much. thick gooey spurts pour into your cunt, filling up the insides of your goopy womb. gojo’s peering down at you and his lip quivers. he finished a bit early. too quick, his hand shakes as he holds up his phone before you squeeze your legs against his torso even tighter. for a moment, he almost whines himself. the strong gripping grip your pussy has against makes him swear underneath his breath.

“huh? yeah, ‘m good,” he sexily whews, slowing his rhythm down a bit.

a hand of his snaps, making you look down between your legs.

he gives you a teasing grin and you spread your folds open. it was so much, so much velvety ropes of hot cum that ooze in and out of your sloppy folds. you’ve never felt more warm from the inside. it was a feeling that had your mouth watering, salivating with your sweet, syrupy saliva. your legs were practically mush, and once you finish, you end up gushing all out at once. it takes you by surprise more than anything. the feeling comes like a crashing, unpredictable wave, a fading fade then departures from your body. minutes eventually pass and gojo’s still yapping away on the phone—yet after a while, he decides to wrap it up and groan. “yeah yeah okay, man. i gotta go now. unless you wanna listen to how i sound post-orgasm, heh.”

“what—?”

with a quick bleep, gojo hangs up. tossing his phone aside, he looks down at you—cutely sprawled out whilst chills run down your body. he can almost see you palpitating from said chills. leaning up close to you, still balls deep, he pants heavily. gojo pressed a kiss against your right temple before teasing. “heyyy, did you just squirt on me?” he asks, and he speaks in a sly soft tone.

you don’t reply and he gives you a priggish smile. “you didddd. so nasty, i should make ya lick it off me.”

you did end up squirting. it was so much. so so much.

you’re still having your legs wrap around his waist before you grab onto his wide, stiff shoulders. “s-satoru,” you moan into his neck, getting yet another balmy whiff of his manly musk. “f-fuuuck, more.”

right before he could reply though— the intercom of the plane comes on and it’s the pilot.

“ladies and gentleman, we’ve made it to our destination. local time and time of arrival is six thirty-three am. for your own safety and others around you, please remain seated and keep the aisles cleared until i announce we’re at the airport gates. thank you.”

“aw, boo,” gojo laments, slowly pulling out of your pussy. a pout unfurls against your glossed lips as you feel suddenly empty. no more thick inches inside. the only thing you felt were the leftover masses of his cum spewing out of you. the seats were a mess, he brings a hand down to strum a few fingers against your entrance and you whine. so soaked, he gifts you with a kiss on your forehead before exhaling. “well, think it’s ‘bout time we part ways, gorgeous.”

gojo helps put back on your skirt and panties and you‘re just laid back with a cute scowl as he assists you off your feet. “i . . can’t walk like this,” and he chuckles at how stiff you were— a few droplets of his cum race down your thighs and you almost moan again. you’re still sensitive, throbbing near every inch of your body before he stands up. he’s so lean and tall. as gojo towers over you, you glance up at him and you’re met with that annoying flirtatious smirk he gave you when his eyes first laid on you. “my panties are practically ripped.”

he turns around to grab his suitcases above him from the cabinet and sighs.

zipping up his exposed fly, gojo leans in to kiss your forehead. “ah, well i can always buy you some more,” and then he pauses. “actually,” he grabs his wallet and your eyes widen once he gives you three hundred dollar bills. “i can buy you more than just panties if ya want, sweet thing,” he slides the bills in between your bra before pressing a kiss against your neck. “you’ve been such a good girl,” and he then hands you his business card. it displays his name and a cheesy saying near the front, all his information in bold blue letters too. before walking away with your bawled up underwear, he leans up to your ear for a final time and whispers, “remember though, it’s satoru gojo, baby. ah, and these panties—i’ll be keeping these as a souvenir.”

[ceilidho]

prompt: ghost and you are the only survivors of a military plane crash. you spend weeks alone in the wild together. (ns/fw)

-

In the years you’ve worked as a flight attendant, you’ve never experienced a plane crash before. It’s exactly like what you would’ve expected.

Clear skies rapidly turn grey outside the tiny windows to your left and right; you notice it almost instantly because it casts a pall over the interior of the aircraft. It makes the small group of men that you’ve been travelling with sit up a bit straighter in their seats, only a few of them looking genuinely concerned. Military men often do; it’s in their nature to worry and fret. You feel it like a twinge in your gut, like something telling you that you don’t usually fly through dark clouds. 

The soft ding of the seatbelt sign comes on a handful of seconds later. The turbulence only a few moments after that.

Pilots are trained to avoid cumulonimbus clouds like they’re a harbinger of death (and they are). Even large airliners avoid crossing the path of a cumulonimbus. Your pilot should’ve known to divert and fly around the cloud, avoiding the possibility of flying through a thunderstorm altogether. The pilot’s voice crackles over the intercom for everyone to fasten their seatbelts and you notice distantly that his voice seems frazzled. 

Your hands grip the seat as you strap in. This is exactly the kind of scenario you’ve prepared extensively for, but in the face of it, your stomach tosses and turns. Practice can only hope to ape reality; it often falls short. 

From across the aisle, you lock eyes with the lieutenant in the skull mask that politely refused a beverage ten minutes ago. The plane jostles you violently in your seat as it passes through a rough patch of turbulence. Even the lieutenant, twice your size and rooted into his seat, his hands clamped around the arm rests, grunts when he’s rocked side to side. 

There’s a loud pop outside the aircraft and the plane teeters dangerously to one side. The bags in the overheads bash against the doors, the plastic squeaking under their weight. 

Someone screams. The other attendant sitting across from you is already shouting, “Brace! Brace! Brace!” The mantra bursts from his chest along with spittle and the singular, quivering note of fear. There’s not much more you can do but follow his lead, dropping your head to your knees and wrapping your arms around your legs.

Your stomach drops when the plane descends far too suddenly. You would’ve been pulled back against the wall if your arms weren’t wrapped around your legs. You have enough time to peek up briefly to see all of the other men assuming the same position, some with their heads pressed against the seat in front of them before the aircraft nosedives and there’s a sharp whistle in your ear and the lights flicker ominously in the cabin and something tears and tears and tears and—

Then it’s dark.

Your grip must have loosened because the world disintegrates after you hit your head. There’s only a faint buzz and something ice cold, something that grips you from the inside and slithers over your skin. The aftermath of a crash is so quiet for the devastation it brings.

The big one in the scary mask is the one who drags you from the wreckage, lifting you into his arms when you’re still too dazed to do more than whimper pathetically. Fear and pain and adrenaline have crumpled you up into a little ball. 

“Keep your eyes open,” he says, and maybe it’s a shout. His voice is so loud. When you open them, you nearly close your eyes instinctively when you see the gaping hole in the plane where it’s been torn apart. 

“Where are—” it hurts to speak, but you have no choice, “—the others…”

He doesn’t respond. That makes it worse. You slip your arms around his neck so he can hike you closer up his chest. Slung over his shoulder is a black duffle bag that he must have pulled from the overhead, or what’s left of them. When your head turns on a swivel, you startle at the sight of the other attendant still strapped in his seat, his neck snapped back at an odd angle. 

You turn your head away. 

“My leg hurts really bad,” you sob, fingers clutched in the sweat-matted fabric of your saviour’s shirt. 

He palms the back of your head and tips you just enough for you to meet his eyes. Something dark shutters over his face for a split second. If your eyes weren’t filled with tears, you might’ve noticed it. It passes fast though, too quick for you to register it in these conditions.

“‘Gonna be okay, sweetheart,” he says, gentler this time, rough-sounding like he’s not used to using that tone. “Gonna get us out of here and then I’ll check your leg. Just hang on to me.”

It’s hard to catalogue every moment because you drift in and out of consciousness. You feel the man shift you in his arms whenever he clambers down the side of the mountain your plane must have flown into. There’s debris from the wreckage scattered around the rocks, the other half of the plane not too far away. When your eyes blink open briefly, you see how decimated the other half is. 

There aren’t any other survivors. Only bodies. He doesn’t stop for them.

Far off from the wreckage, he sets you down onto the soft earth and rifles around in the bag he took. There’s a first aid kit with supplies that he uses to wrap your ankle, which is swollen and tender. The adrenaline crash is nearly more violent than the plane crash you just survived. It wracks through your body as the lieutenant strips your shoes and socks, gently manipulating your foot in his big hands. You notice he’s also lost the mask.

Ochre yellow and green plains spread outward from the mountains. You remember from the flight maps on board that you were somewhere over Mongolia, but the exact mountain range eludes you. This could be the Khangai or the Sayan or the Altai, but you have no way of knowing. 

“Is there a…a phone in the bag? How’s anyone gonna know we’re out here?” You sound helpless, smaller than you’ve ever sounded. 

He shakes his head. The tight ball of tension in the middle of your chest grows tighter. The thought that you’re stranded in the mountains in Mongolia, thousands of miles away from home and no way to get help is almost enough to send you into a panic attack. 

A hand cups under your chin to tilt your head up. His face up close is exquisite and haunting—weathered in the way that career military men often are, burn marks and old scars littered across the delicate skin, lips perpetually chapped, and a nose that looks like it’s been broken way more than once. You can’t look away. 

“Someone’ll be looking for us,” he says. It’s reassuring only because he says it like it’s a certain thing. “Don’t know if you saw who was on that flight roster. A lot of important men were supposed to arrive in Germany at twenty-one-hundred hours.”

You nod, tears still dribbling down your cheeks even when he swipes his thumb across to rub them away. He’s not wrong. There was a colonel on your flight after all. Dead now, hot corpse still steaming in the wreckage half a kilometre away, but he would’ve been important enough to warrant an immediate rescue. 

You go still under his touch. “You weren’t on the flight list.”

He shakes his head. “Never am.”

“But you were with them?” You remember someone on the flight addressing him by his rank. It was early on in the service, when you were still strapping down bags and doing cross-check, making sure everything was in place. But you remember, even then, seeing that there were more bodies on the plane than names on the list; you’d brought it up to the captain, but he’d brushed off your concerns. Maybe he knew the reason behind the lieutenant’s name being held off the passenger list. 

It’s all moot now anyway. 

“Can’t bring a ghost on a flight,” he says darkly, like it’s a joke. Like you’re in on it together. “Can’t put it on the roster at least. S’bad luck after all.”

It’s a monstrous joke at a time like this. Your life feels cracked in half and the scarred brute of a man that pulled you from the wreckage makes jokes like it happens to him every other day. When the sky splits later that night and pours out a lake’s worth of rain, it feels appropriate. You huddle with the lieutenant at the base of a densely branched tree and shake.

Five weeks in the mountains go by slowly. 

The shelter he builds is haphazard but meticulous, composed of various materials that Ghost scavenges from the plane wreck. A door becomes a makeshift roof. He makes you sit and wait as he collects dozens and dozens of branches, chopped down from the surrounding trees and fashioned into a lean-to. Padded with moss and leaves. 

“I can help with getting the leaves,” you protest when he catches you hobbling around and carries you back to the nest of blankets and tarps that he’d pulled from the plane. He goes back every so often to see what remains and what can be used. It’s the only time other than when he hunts that Ghost leaves you alone for even a second, preferring to be within arm’s length of you the rest of the time.

“You can help by sitting your ass down,” Ghost grunts without even looking up at you. 

You frown, fingers digging in the dirt by your feet. It’s a silly complaint but there’s never anything to do but wait. 

In the early morning hours, Ghost goes off and hunts for you, when the world is still quiet and the animals are still asleep. They’re sluggish when dawn still hasn’t peeled its pink belly off the surface of the world. Ghost comes back with a deer slung over his shoulders one week, his knife still protruding from its neck, and your stomach only twists a little bit. Not used to seeing where your meat comes from. 

There’s not much choice when you’re on your own in the elements. Every day, you expect to see a helo appear over the horizon, and you end each night crestfallen when it doesn’t. 

It’s not like you haven’t completed basic training, a prerequisite to applying as a military flight attendant, but admittedly it’s been several years and basic never taught you to hunt for your food. You did other things that seemed, at the time, inconsequential to your career path, like learning to rappel and how to wait an hour for your NCO to show up for PT in the morning. 

Even if your ankle hadn’t been badly sprained, you wouldn’t be much help. Ghost’s remarkably self-sufficient. It makes you question whether he’s done this before—whether he’s gotten stranded in the woods for weeks on end and had to learn to live hand-to-mouth. 

“Have you…where’d you learn all of this?” you ask him in the dead of night, when the wind is a shrill hiss through the trees and you cower close to him in your sleeping bag (also salvaged from the wreck, though his has a tear down the side of it).

Ghost is quiet for a moment. “All over the place. Been doing this for years, love; had to learn.”

“Anything ever like this?”

Even with the absence of his mask, it gets so dark at night that you can’t see his face. You can hear the wry smile that plays on his lips in his voice though. “I’ve had worse days.”

There’s a story there that you see like a fish darting under the water. Too quick for you to catch with your bare hands. 

You wake up with your cheek pressed against his pillowy chest most days. It’s embarrassing at first, but you learn to let it melt off you when you meet Ghost’s eyes and there’s nothing there but piercing blue. They root you in place most of the time but they never tell you to move. 

It takes a while before your ankle starts noticeably healing. In the intervening weeks, Ghost almost dotes on you, in a rough, untested sort of way. Like he doesn’t have much experiencing tending to another person besides himself for weeks on end. As the weeks drag on, it morphs into something unrecognizable, like a wounded animal healing wrong. 

It starts when Ghost insists on sharing sleeping bags. It’ll be easier for him to pull you close if something tries to drag you off in the night (and doesn’t that thought put you on the brink of a panic attack until he shushes and soothes you). It escalates when you make the mistake of tending to the meat hanging over the fire while he fiddles with the little radio he’d dragged back from the plane, and the look he gives you when you tell him that supper is ready borders on reverent. 

It gets even worse when he has you both strip your clothes off on a particularly cold and rainy night, wrapped around each other for warmth. 

“Sweetheart, you’re shaking,” you hear him rumble, big hand drawing a line down your back. You do tremble at that. “C’mon, get closer. Gonna warm you up.”

You wake up in the middle of the night when your ankle is starting to feel solid enough that you think you can manage to go off on your own to relieve yourself instead of waking Ghost up again. That’s the plan anyway. Before you’ve even managed to crawl all of six feet away from your sleeping bag, a rough hand pins you by your shoulder to the ground and the heavy, over two-hundred pound body of your companion drapes itself over you.

“Where the fuck do you think yer going?” Ghost snarls. 

For the first time in a week, there’s a moment of genuine fear. It’s like realizing for a split second that the animal you’ve let creep up behind you is a lot more dangerous than you thought it was. 

“I have to pee,” you whisper-hiss, heart still skittering in your chest.

He’s silent behind you while he mulls that thought over; you think maybe he’s still half-asleep, his body acting on instinct before his brain’s ready to take over. The tension only releases you when he finally picks himself up off you, but it’s immediately made worse when he insists on accompanying you into the woods. 

He doesn’t even turn around while you pull your underwear down and squat. Ghost’s eyes are bright in the dark, trained on you like it’s the thing that gives him purpose. 

Things change in the woods. There are people who are only one bad thing away from reverting to their neolithic mind; as the weeks go on, you see the way his eyes change when they fall on you, no longer detached but gluttonous. 

There’s a brown bear that slouches past your camp one day, sniffing around only because it’s curious, and Ghost all but completely obstructs your vision with how he shoves you behind him. He puffs up big when the bear gets too close, keeping you hidden until it snorts and ambles off, not interested in the pair of you. 

Do animals act like this? He curls you around him in sleep, legs tangled together. When you soak in the lake under the glare of the sun, he slips into the water and comes up behind you until his hands close around your waist and he tugs you closer to the edge, away from the deeper parts. It’s testament to how long you’ve been out on your own that you’re no longer unaccustomed to the feel of his hands on your bare flesh. 

His lips on your bare shoulder are a little less commonplace, but you only shiver and stare out at the mountains. 

Then one day, you look up into the sky away from the sun and there it is, a black dot on the horizon at first. You scream for Ghost, who’s skinning a fish on a damp log near you and start waving your arms wildly in the air, unbridled joy streaming out of you. He’s quick to pull his mask on when the chopper lands a few hundred yards away and two similarly dressed soldiers spill out. 

You ignore the stiffness in his body as he sits beside you in the chopper, pinning you against the side. Ignore the way he answers for you when the men start asking questions. 

What does it mean to come back worse?

“Wha’s that, love?”

“Trauma bonding,” you repeat, swallowing nervously. It’s months later, but the weeks on the mountain and the forest still haunt you. The real world seems flimsier now that you’re back in it, less real somehow. Here, no one hunts for their food. “The therapist said that we trauma bonded. And—and that’s why you won’t—”

Here’s where the words can’t seem to come out on their own. 

He sleeps in your bed these days—can’t stand to be more than a room away from you at any given time. Follows you into the bathroom when you need to clean up at the end of the day, crowding you into your too-small shower. The you from a month ago wouldn’t have been able to imagine inviting a six-foot-four soldier into your apartment, but—and here’s where your brain scrambles a bit to catch up—you didn’t invite him in. 

He lifts a brow. The mask comes off in your apartment, so you’re able to see the way his lips slip into something unimpressed. “Why I won’t what?”

You swallow. “You know. Leave.”

“Do you want me to leave, love?” 

That’s the crux of it. The heart of it. You really don’t. In the dark sometimes, if the wind rustles outside your window just right, shrill like those weeks in the forest and out on the open plains, your heart pounds in your chest until it grows so tight that you think it’ll just stop. 

“No,” you whisper in response to his question.

Most nights, you wake up drenched in sweat, still half in a dream where you turn your head and the other flight attendant is staring back at you with wide, empty eyes. Blood dribbling down from his head. Where a plane is ripped in half, grey metal strewn across a mountain and the valley below is a dark pit where you go to die. 

Then you roll over in your bed and Ghost is there, already awake and cupping a wide hand over your cheek, laying kiss after kiss across your face. Murmuring that it’ll be alright, that you’re safe. That he’s got you. 

His breath is hot on your skin.

You let him roll you over and spread your legs when he says those things. Let him be a bit filthy after being so kind to you in the woods. 

He spits on your pussy and rubs it in with a coarse thumb, chuckling when you yelp all breathlessly and squirm away. Sometimes when you fuck, he gets rough with you and slaps it, but he’s always tender with you after a nightmare, content to sooth you with his mouth on your pussy until you’re close to hyperventilating. 

“S’alright, sweetheart,” Ghost breathes, spearing you on his turgid length, barrel chest heaving when he finally crams it all in. Always a bit too big for you to take without crying. “I got you, I’ve got you. Not gonna let anything happen to you.”

It’s a new development, but it feels older than time. You could’ve let it happen in the woods and you might have, if no one had ever come. 

“Look at me, sweet girl,” he tuts when you turn your head to the side, holding your face in one hand until you have no choice but to stare at the bulk of him straining over you. He has shoulders like mountains that roll when he pushes into you. “Didn’t I say I’d take care of you?”

You don’t want to acknowledge what this is: that you found something in the woods and it followed you home.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Open Skies [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki's first time flying the Quinjet is a memorable one. Warnings: 18+ Only Minors DNI. Smut. Loki x Female Reader. Silly things. Mutual pining. Oral (M). (w/c 2.2k)

Tony dangled the key between his thumb and forefinger. The fob swung in front of Loki’s smirking face. “To Virginia, and back again,” Tony said. He was not in the mood for games. Loki’s eyebrows shot up. He pressed his fingers to his chest in mock-hurt before extending the cup of his palm out, fingers unfolding with a graceful flourish. “I need to learn, Stark..." he postured innocently. “The simulations only go so far. You know that.”

“And you’ll behave?” Loki rolled his eyes. “What egregious sin could I possibly commit with your garish vessel while under the watchful eye of our trustworthy Agent here?” he said, flicking a finger towards you. “Is that not why she has been chosen for this farce? To keep me in line? To make sure I don’t damage this metal substitute for masculinity?” Tony’s eyes darted in an aborted eye-roll. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, observing Loki with suspicion. “It should only take you twenty minutes- if that,” he said, tossing the fob in the air. The god caught it. Loki let you walk ahead up the ramp. The weight of his stare clung to your ass like wet paint as you made your way to the front of the craft and slid into the passenger seat. He paused, giving both headrests a squeeze as he observed the screens. You watched his profile stiffen, a swallow working his neck. For all his breezy pomposity, he was nervous. “Just like the simulator,” you said, “you’ll be fine.” Loki's face remained unchanged by your re-assurance. He cleared his throat, tugging at the sleeves of his sweater; the one with the Avengers logo that he swore the first time he saw it that he would never wear.

He manoeuvred himself into the driver’s seat. “Is he watching?” he asked quietly. You pressed the screen, making the rear camera pop up. Tony stood below the under-hang of the landing area, arms folded. “Right..." Loki said, lips pursing.

He ran his palms down the tight chinos creased to his thighs. One long finger tentatively pressed against the central screen.

In a matter of seconds, the Quinjet’s engines fired to life. Loki flinched. His fingers flexed before their length curled around the lever sitting between you. He pushed it into elevate. "Thirty-five-thousand feet..." Loki murmured to himself, pressing a series of buttons on the screen.

He reached up, pressing an intercom above his head.

"This is Loki Laufeyson, Avengers Unit, Stark Tower," he said, gazing out the huge window at the skyscrapers.

His voice made goose-bumps ripple on your skin. It massaged over the syllables like crude oil over glass, thick and utterly erotic in its uniform sincerity. “Lifting off - flightpath expected from New York City to above Richmond, Virginia. No target, no landing. Training exercise, thirty-five thousand feet. Copy?”

He released the button. Static hummed. Loki’s fingers readjusted around the lever. “Copy, Mr Laufeyson." the radio crackled. "Clear for take-off. Route mapped. Any changes, let us know.”

Loki let out a small, satisfied sigh. He shot you a weak smile. “Good?” he asked. You nodded. His hair was tied back in a messy bun, delicate strands falling around his face. It framed his cheekbones perfectly. “Try not to be too aroused by my piloting-skills, Agent,” Loki goaded, turning his attention to the thrusters. “I have been practising very hard to make it seem effortless.” He pressed several more buttons without a pause.

You and Loki had hooked up for several weeks just before his most recent mission. But whether it was clarity during the absence, or simply lack of interest; when he had come back no moves were made on either side. On your part, it was simple terror. Being with Loki in that way was unbelievable the first time that it had happened, never mind the seventh, eighth, ninth. Part of you didn’t want to push your luck. It had crossed your mind that he had actually forgotten. And if that was true, then you didn’t want to know.

The force of the ascent pushed you back into your seat, facing forwards. Out the corner of your eye you saw a grin stretch over the god’s face as the New York skyline became mere dots below. He yanked the lever a few more times into position, setting it in cruise. The beep of buttons and the hum of the engines were the only sounds. Ahead, there was nothing but open skies. “Well done, I’m very impressed,” you said with a smile, shifting to face him. The seatbelt dug into your shoulder. Without realising, you had set a hand to rest on his thigh. The two of you looked at it, eyes rising to meet. One of Loki’s brows cocked. “Agent?” he growled. “Are you trying to seduce the captain?”

You were about to deny it. But he was the god of lies, after all. In which case there was no getting around it. And even if there was – did you want to? “Yes.” you said. Loki barked a small laugh of disbelief, turning his eyes back to the wide windows. “It will take more than that, Agent.” he said, offering a small nod to the hand resting mid-way up his thigh. “Especially after giving me the cold-shoulder on my return.” Your stomach dropped. “I did no such thing-” you started, but Loki had begun to tut. It’s slow methodical click ticked over the air between you. His eyes never left the blue sky out the front of the Quinjet. “On the contrary. On my return, I came to your rooms. I left a note, and quite a suggestive one at that. I made myself quite vulnerable, actually.” You frowned. “Loki, I moved rooms like three weeks ago.” Loki pressed a finger to his forehead. “Who’s in your old one?” “Scott.” “Ah,” Loki said, grimacing. “I was wondering why he had been particularly familiar of late.” The god shot you a sheepish smile. “I may have gone into great detail about oral sex in my correspondence.” “Giving or Receiving?” “Receiving.” The two of your burst into raucous laughter.

Loki took his hands from the steering wheel, wiping a tear of mirth. “In defence of my uncouth written request, you do give the most glorious blowjobs,” he muttered, offering a tilt of his head. “And it was a very long mission. I was in desperate need of attention.” “Did you ever get it?” “No. Although in hindsight, Lang did attempt to ease my disposition.”

You and Loki exchanged a restrained smirk before bursting into laughter again. “I feel terrible,” you said, starting to feel giddy. “I thought you weren’t into me anymore, so I just…” “Gave up without a fight?” Loki said, pressing a button and shifting the stick. “Understandable. I am rather intimidating.”

Your hand began to dance up his thigh, following the rise of his insane quad muscle. You squeezed. The fingers slid inward, brushing the growing bulge in his crotch. Loki shifted in his seat, chinos rustling. “Agent…” he warned. But his eyes sparkled.

The god’s legs widened in the generous seat. Creases ran thick across his spread thighs, the outline of his cock stark against the light fabric. It stretched up to his hip by the side of the zipper. You bit your lip as he thrust gently into your cupped hand. “We shouldn’t…” you said, tracing the length of his cock with one light finger. “No,” Loki breathed. “But we will.” The click of your seatbelt and the resulting flurry of your fingers at his buttons was instant. Loki raised one arm to let you work, lowering the tight zipper and setting his cock free with a bounce into your waiting hand. “Fuck,” he choked through ragged breaths, “Agent you don’t have to-” You looked up at him, head pressed back against the rest and the veins in his throat tightening. He had that stoic, regal set upon his features, cheekbones hard and unwavering, mouth closed as he stared at your with hungry eyes. The only thing that gave him away was the sound of small puffs of air flaring in rapid succession from his nostrils. Without looking, you could tell his knuckles were white on the wheel. One of his forearms rested on the nape of your neck.

“If you don’t think I want to suck your cock, Laufeyson,” you whispered, pausing to place a kiss on the leaking tip, “then you’re even crazier than I thought.” Loki inhaled sharply as you swallowed him. The breath caught in his throat, forcing its way back through a series of stuttering breaks that made desire thrash deep in your cunt. Fingers wrapped around the base of him, you worked slowly back and forth until his manhood was slippery with spit. Your face lowered on to the bottom of Loki’s sweatshirt with every dip of your head. Sucking wet and hot as the vein that ran the length of his cock throbbed against your tongue. There it was, that sweet saltiness pearling at the cracked creases of your lips. God, how you’d missed that. The taste of him. There was nothing like it.

Loki’s placid moans filled the cockpit. It was polite, in a way. Gentlemanly, while his slender fingers grasped delicately against your hair. You lingered at the crown, running your tongue against the sensitive underside.

Loki jolted in his seat. The Quinjet took a dive, and you froze - cushioning his glory with your tongue as the god corrected the flightpath. He chuckled, hissing as you tightened the grip of the fingers around his root and began to pump in time with your mouth. “We’ve reached-uh...g-gods, Richmond,” he stammered. His fingers grasped at your hair, knees beginning to tremble. “I’m carrying out a soft turn, bringing us one hundred and sixty degrees before returning to the original..f..f-fuckk-flightpath.” Humming approval through a mouthful of his cock, you lost yourself in the warm musk of his public hair. The metal zipper caught against your chin, grazing with every deep dive of the god into your throat. But you didn’t care. Loki’s gentle whines were all you could hear over the engines, panting praises and murmurs of lustful promises that you would hold him to when this thing landed. If it landed.

“Gods-” Loki choked, punctuated with a thump as his skull fell against the headrest. "How can you do this to me, Agent?” he gasped, rubbing your back as you quickened the pace. “You’re the best…” he moaned, hips rising to meet the bob of your jaw, “you’re the b-best I’ve ever had..I- uhh...”

The god’s fingertips dragged down your back, fist clenching and unfurling. He let out a primal grumble. “I’m going to cum, darling-” he growled. “Has anything c-changed?” You shook your head, saliva dripping down the side of your mouth and pooling in a wet patch on his chinos. Swallowing all the spit you could, you pressed your lips tighter around his girth, sucking furiously. Loki flinched with pleasure; and although you couldn’t see him, you knew his eyes were rolling back. You’d bet a few more of those slutty little curls had come loose too. Loki’s bucks were quicker now. He was trying to be restrained, but still his hips shuddered against the seat trying not to fuck your mouth with all his might. The Quinjet thrashed to the side, immediately correcting.

The god’s breaths were heavy, unintelligible filth falling from his lips and slithering into your ear as you worked him. "Good girl," he gasped, palm flying to the window my his side, "oh, f-fuck yes...good girl-vakker... just like, u-uh-" His palm slid down the window with an obscene squeak.

With a curse-littered groan, both of his arms went flying up behind the headrest. He pulled it forwards, the force of his abdomen’s clench pressing against your forehead. Loki’s hot cum hit the back of your tongue, filling your mouth with the sweet tang you craved. It kept coming, spreading into every pocket of space not occupied by his meat. His groans of pleasure filled the cockpit while you swallowed - pretty little moans snaking from his throat as he rode higher than the clouds.

Your lips left the tip of his flushed member with a slurp. Loki looked at you, dazed and slut-drunk. His seed glistened at the corners of your mouth as you squeezed his cock from the base a final time. A thick ream of cum blossomed at the opening. With one finger, you scooped it off, placing it carefully on the tip of your tongue.

“How I’ve missed you,” Loki slurred before his mouth was on yours.

You could feel his tongue search your own, tasting himself on each caress, swallowing the mess that you had made of him. Breaking apart, you took a moment to appreciate just how fucked-out Loki looked. The god’s cheeks were flushed, his lips raw and pink from rough kisses; his tied-up hair was askew, one side falling down in inky tendrils across his shoulder. The sweatshirt was rumpled, and there was a spreading wet patch on those lovely cream chinos. “How long do we have?” you asked, realising that you probably didn’t look much better. Loki’s eyes flickered to the screen. “Three minutes.” he said, disappointed. As Loki nailed a perfect landing, you made a final check of yourself in the window’s reflection. His knuckles trailed gently down your bicep. “I’ll see you inside?” he asked quietly. His pupils were still bottomless pools. “At your rooms,” you smiled, fighting to contain a laugh. “Not Scott’s.” Loki nodded agreement, lips curling. “I really did wait, you know.” he said. “I know.” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. The two of you disembarked and Tony was waiting for the debrief exactly where you'd left him. He seemed happy with everything, by and large. But his arms remained folded. You began to make your way into the Tower. “Laufeyson. A word.” Tony barked. Loki rolled his eyes, subtly gesturing for you to go on ahead. “How’d you like her then? State of the art?” Stark hummed, gesturing to the Quinjet. Loki raised a brow. “It was perfectly fine.” Loki said. “Not ‘the best you’ve ever had’?” Tony slipped his sunglasses down his nose. Loki’s brow furrowed. “Cameras?” “Cameras,” Tony replied, tossing Loki the key-fob. “I’ll delete my evidence if you hop on back and delete your evidence with some of that magic-bleach. Deal?” “Deal.” Loki sighed.

Tags (cont in comments) @lokischambermaid @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @marygoddessofmischief @thevillainswhore @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @icytrickster17 @buttercupcookies-blog

[bibuckkinard]

Brace for Impact

Hi! This is my little spec fic based off of @mannafromtevan's excellent theory about the second disaster for the first three episodes of season 8. Hope you guys like it!

“Tommy,” Athena Grant says as he slides into the pilot’s seat next to her, where she’s strapped into the copilot’s chair. “Sergeant Grant,” Tommy says smoothly. “It’s so nice to see you.” She motions to the chaos of the cockpit around her. The whole plane is shaking, lights are flashing and alarms are blaring. She’s done a good job keeping the plane level under his instructions before he got on the plane and she looks like controlled chaos herself. “What’s a man like you doing in a place like this?” Tommy snorts, thumbs at the intercom button, and says, “Hello everybody, my name is Tommy Kinard and I’m a pilot with the LAFD. I’m here to get this plane down as safely as possible, but I need you all to do something for me. The second I give the word, I want everyone to tuck their heads between their knees and brace their arms on the chair in front of them. If you are in an exit aisle, wrap your arms around your thighs.” He thumbs the intercom off and speaks into his headset. “Kinard to Incident Commander, I’m in place.” “Copy that, Kinard. We’re ready and waiting,” Captain Mehta answers and he takes a second to be grateful it’s not Gerrard. He doesn’t need his voice in his ear right now. He looks at Athena. “Ready, Sergeant Grant?” “Tommy,” she says, checking the straps holding her to her seat. “You just rappelled out of a helicopter and into this plane and are about to attempt to land it in a field in the middle of nowhere. I think you can call me Athena.”

Or: Tommy and Athena try to land a plane safely.

Read on Ao3

tag list:

@desert--moonchild, @sazzynatural, @multishippinghussy, @mmso-notlikethat, @tommy-kinard-buckley,

@sunnywithachanceofbi, @sleepywinchesters, @buck-up-buckley, @manifestingchaoticvibes, @corvid-cryptidd

@lbltpsmspenguin

[l33bang24]

Healing Hearts (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Single Dad! Chan x Fem reader

Summary: Y/N, desperate to leave her troubled past behind, decides to start fresh in a foreign country. Struggling to secure a job, she stumbles upon a babysitting opportunity offered by an elderly woman who lives nearby. Babysitting the daughter of a famous idol is the last thing she ever expected to be doing. What will she do when her past comes back to haunt her just as she begins to find peace?

⚠️CW⚠️: Angst, Depression, Anxiety, Drinking, Yelling, Crussing, Name calling, Physical Abuse, Talks of drug use, Miscarriage, Death of character (not leading), Crying (if I missed anything, lmk)

🏷: @manuosorioh @palindrome969 @real-life-dwaekii @nebugalaxy @itzzyyyyyyydaaaa @catlove83 @ivydoesit23 @resi4skz @vinumque @ntlmundy @rose-w-00-d @rundontwalkshesaid @jennibahng @lailac13 @gn4bnahc @addies29 @greyyeti (Taglist open)

(All dividers are made by @saradika, all credit goes to her)

Next>

Y/N’s POV

“We will be arriving at the Incheon International Airport in 15 minutes," the captain's voice crackled over the intercom. I felt my hands cramp from clutching the armrest for so long. Exhaustion was slowly creeping in, but I was determined to hold out until I reached the hotel. I've never been fond of flying, so I attempted to stay awake for as long as possible. However, my efforts were in vain; I drifted off and only woke up when the turbulence jolted me from my sleep. Since then, I've been wide awake, anxiously awaiting our landing.

Taking off and landing are always the most nerve-wracking parts of flying for me. However, when the pilot announced that we had arrived at our destination on this particular flight, I realized that I hadn't even felt the plane touchdown. Perhaps I was just too lost in my thoughts to notice. I patiently waited for other passengers to pull out their bags before reaching for mine. A courteous older gentleman insisted that I go ahead of him, and I expressed my gratitude. Once my luggage appeared on the carousel, I hailed an Uber to the hotel. After retrieving my belongings, I skillfully weaved through the crowds and exited the main doors.

I spotted a cluster of cameras and excited fans as I approached the exit, signifying celebrities' imminent arrival. Feeling relieved, I silently expressed gratitude for being able to leave before the chaos ensued. Loading my luggage into the waiting Uber, I settled into the back seat and informed the driver of my resort. Once inside, I unzipped my carry-on and reached for my phone. As my fingertips brushed against the screen, a distinct memory I'd been trying to suppress suddenly flooded my mind, and I quickly returned the phone to my bag, unsure if I was ready to confront it just yet.

Closing the bag, I take a deep breath and shut my eyes. I begin counting backward from 10 to 1, trying to calm my racing thoughts. "It's okay," I reassure myself, "I can make it through the day without dwelling on it." Eventually, I'll have to switch it back on or maybe consider getting a new phone altogether.

I arrived at my temporary sanctuary, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. The check-in process was a bit of a blur as I was eager to settle in. After receiving the key to my room, I made my way through the corridors until I finally reached my destination. As I entered the room, I couldn't wait to collapse onto the comfortable bed and unwind after a long journey. As I lay down and rested my head on the soft pillow, I quickly succumbed to slumber, and soon, darkness enveloped me.

Bang Chan’s POV

I loved my lifestyle. The music, fan adoration, the energy of live performances, and the camaraderie with fellow musicians were incredibly enriching. The thrill and allure of those experiences paled compared to the sheer delight of raising a five-year-old daughter. As we strolled through the airport, a profound sense of joy surged through my entire being.

Once we hit the road, Felix turns to me and asks, “What do you think Miryung is doing about this time?” I can't help but grin. “Well, if she's listening to Mrs. Kim, she should be napping.” Lee Know glances at me with a small smile of his own.“You say that like you know she isn't going to do that.” I can't help but run my tongue over the inside of my cheek. “One of her uncles taught her how to use YouTube to watch videos of her father, particularly when he arrives or departs from an airport.” I focus my gaze on the culprit. "Hey! She pleaded with me to show her. I can't say no when she gives me those irresistible puppy eyes." Han reenacts what she did to him while Lee Know hurls his neck pillow at him and purposely hits him in the face.

When I arrived at the house, I bid farewell to the guys and pulled my luggage from the van. While carrying my bags to the front door, I noticed something new on the porch. To my surprise, an angel statue was placed there. I instantly recognized it as the statue that had been stored in the attic for quite a while.

“Oh, Channie, let's look at the garden gnomes! I bet they have some cute ones I can put in the yard.” Ryung pulls my hand toward the garden statues. “Ry, have I ever told you how strong you are since you got pregnant?” I hummed as I rubbed my hand over her still-growing bump. She smiles up at me with those honey-colored eyes. Oh, how I wished our baby had her eyes. I wished she had her everything.

As soon as I looked at her, it was crystal clear: Miyrung was the spitting image of her late mother. I shook my head, anticipating the problematic conversation I would need to have with her. I inserted the keys into the lock, turned the doorknob, and entered the house.

As I set my bags down, I heard feet running across the floor. “Daddy!” I opened my arms as Miryung jumped into them. I hold her tightly as a litter kisses all over her chubby face. “Daddy quit!” I shook my head as I pulled back. “No, ma'am, I will not quit. I'm your Dad; I can kiss you as often as possible.” She would generally try to fight back with me, though this time, she doesn't.

She places her head on my chest. “I missed you, Daddy.” There it is, the heartbreaking. I knew trying to raise a child alone in a world like mine wasn't all rainbows and unicorns. It was hard, but luckily, with the company's support, fans, guys, and family, I could take time away to raise Miryung properly. When she reached a certain age, I could return to my everyday hectic lifestyle.

“I missed you too, Pumpkin,” I say, kissing her on the top of her head. Knowing that she wasn't going to release her grip on me anytime soon, I guided us over to the couch and settled down.“Did you behave for Mrs. Kim while I was away?" When she looks up, her eyes widen. "Yes, Daddy, I was good.” I arch an eyebrow at her. "Come on, Miryung. You know I taught you always to tell the truth. Don't start lying to me now." Her gaze drops, filled with guilt, and her bottom lip trembles. “I'm sorry, Daddy. I know I'm not supposed to go into the attic, but one night, I saw you putting some of Mommy's things away. I didn't want to forget about her, so I pulled out her Angel statue.”

Miryung gazed back at me, her eyes filled with tears, and at that moment, it was as if a sharp blade had pierced through my heart. “Pumpkin, it's not just that you pulled your Mom’s angel statue down; you were up there alone. What would have happened if you had fallen off one of those beams or the latter came back up and closed on you? Miryung, you would have been trapped up there, and Mrs. Kim would have been looking for you everywhere.” I pushed her brown locks behind her ear.

“I just want you to be safe. Okay?” I gently pull her back into my embrace as she bobs her head, feeling her warmth against my chest. I fight back the tears as I look up towards the ceiling. ‘I would never want to get rid of you, Ry. Ever.’ I soon hear a stomach growl, and I can’t fight back the smile that graces my face. “Do you want to order takeout?”

Y/N’s POV

I was drying a whiskey glass when I heard the door slam shut with a resounding bang. Startled, the glass slipped from my hands and crashed onto the hard floor, shattering into pieces. Frantically attempting to clean up before he noticed, I accidentally cut myself on the shards, but I hardly noticed the pain. "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!?!" His voice boomed from the other room as he stormed into the kitchen. I hastily discarded the broken glass as he approached. I instinctively clasped my hands over my stomach, trying to shield it from view. I could tell he noticed this as his expression darkened, and he felt even more anger.

“Did you take care of that matter as I requested?” He inquired, his intense brown eyes burning with fury. “ANSWER ME! DID YOU?!” He bellowed, causing me to flinch. "No," I responded timidly. "What?" he demanded. "No," I repeated, trying to speak with more conviction. The sudden sting of a slap across my face barely fazes me as I grit my teeth. However, the vice-like grip around my windpipe sends a jolt of fear through me.“You fucking worthless bitch! I told you when I came home, you better have taken those drugs and obliterated that fatuous newborn!!” I could barely get half a breath while clawing at his hands to get free. That only made it worse as he tightened his grip. “Ad-der p-pl-please.” I was breathless, tears streaming down my cheeks, and I watched as dark spots appeared in my peripheral vision.

“I TOLD YOU THAT HEATHEN ISN’T MINE!! I KNOW IT IS SOMEONE ELSE’S!” Adder flung me into the nearest wall. "Ad-Adder, I haven't left the house. It can-" The next blow landed on my face. “DON’T FUCKING LIE TO ME! I KNOW YOU’VE BEEN HANGING AROUND DANIEL! I'VE SEEN THE WAY YOU LOOK HIM! IS IT HIS, HUH?! IS IT!!!” No words escaped my lips before a powerful kick landed on my swollen belly. “No, no, no, NO!”

I suddenly woke up from a vivid dream, or what felt more like a memory. My body was drenched in sweat, and I was trembling uncontrollably. I hugged myself tightly and burst into tears. Grabbing a nearby pillow, I unleashed all my pent-up agony and frustration with a gut-wrenching scream. “I’m so s-sorry, my b-baby.” I choked up, clinching on the pillow for dear life. “I-I’m sorry I-I did-didn’t protect y-you.”

(I'm honestly really excited for this series! I think this will be a good one. 🤞🏻🤞🏻 If you would like to be added to the taglist, just lmk in the comments 😊)

[sssammich]

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed

i got you anon! sorry this took a while.

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed for supercorp*

ask meme

THIS ABSOLUTELY RAN AWAY FROM ME IM SO SORRY

---

"your true love is an alien."

well. there's certainly a lot to unpack from that, isn't there?

let's try.

first. this short and frumpy old lady with both hands on her hips is standing in front of her desk, somehow able to bypass security and her assistant, jess, who is mysteriously absent from her desk.

second. aliens aren't real. right? (right?)

third. the concept of true love is laughable. this is the 21st century and subscribing to these silly fairytale notions of true love is a lot of bullshit. let alone the idea that there is someone even out there for lena in that capacity. nevermind that apparently the only possible candidate for such a title is someone who isn't even human.

fourth. what does this even all mean? and why is she allowing her conference call to madrid get completely derailed by this woman who looks like she's more suited for the kitchen of a small hole in the wall italian restaurant and not the middle of a fortune 500 corporate office.

(all this to say that when lena eventually looks back at her life, she'll think that this is probably not even top five of the weirdest things to happen to her. it might just barely squeak into the top ten, though.)

still, she's faced with a strange predicament at this time. like how to get this lady out of her office.

yet instead of shooing this lady out, her mouth opens to say, "what's next, are you gonna tell me that magic is also real?"

the old lady in front of her just shrugs. "true love is magic, dearie. keep up, mm?"

when she opens her mouth again, she's just about to dismiss this lady, but it doesn't even matter because as soon as she blinks, she's alone.

-

something saves her.

no wait, it's someone. someone saves her.

her helicopter is crashing, the pilot is dead and dying beside her, and they're plummeting.

until, of course, they're not.

because someone is carrying her burning helicopter down on a hellipad and yanking the door out to check on them. lena's heart is in her throat and her lungs are somewhere in her stomach and she doesn't know if she's still even alive. but this someone is definitely hovering before she's holding lena securely.

"hi," the woman says, tentative, blue eyes and blonde hair and armsarmsarms and a red cape and--

something inside of lena's heart changes-transforms-evolves.

and then she passes the fuck out.

-

when she wakes, it's to dim lighting in a hospital room, the beeping of her heartrate monitor. distantly, she hears very little outside which means she's in a much more private wing of the hospital.

she sits up a little when a nurse comes in holding a tray.

except it's not a nurse at all. but the same lady from before.

"you."

"hello, dearie."

so many questions jump at the forefront of her mind. understandable and reasonable questions like hey lady what the fuck are you doing here? how did you get in? what do you want from me? are you here to kill me? stuff like that.

except the flashes of earlier appear in her mind and she recalls blonde blue red. she gasps.

the old lady smiles. "very good, dearie. they did say you were smarter than the others."

"what do you want from me?"

"nothing."

"then what are you doing here?" she asks, her voice gaining strength, her hands balling into fists by her side.

"just consider me an invested party."

before she can voice anything, the old lady places her cup of jello and plastic spoon by her thigh.

"take care, dearie. tell her i said hello, mm?"

lena's brows furrow, questions crowding her mind as she attempts to make sense of everything but failing to do so. the last she hears is a snap of fingers and she falls into a dreamless sleep.

-

when lena next wakes, she's back in her office. a week after the failed assassination attempt on her life.

the buzz of her intercom signals jess's voice. "miss luthor, your 2pm appointment is here. would you like me to let her in."

"go ahead."

she stands by her desk and brushes at her skirt just as the door opens to reveal a beautiful and bespectacled woman with her hair pulled in a ponytail.

blonde blue red.

lena's mouth dries and her insides do a somersault. she remembers the helicopter, the hospital, the old lady. the words your true love is an alien pinballing in her head (in her heart in her heart in her heart).

"hi, miss luthor. thanks for meeting with me."

lena looks at the offered hand. strong hands that have held her before. on a burning helicopter.

"of course..." she says, waiting for the woman to fill in the blanks.

"kara. kara danvers."

"well, kara, call me lena."

it takes five eternal seconds for them to let go of each other's clasped hands.

-

lena finds out about kara bit by bit. through interviews, through professional coffee meetings, through informal coffee meetings, through casual walks around downtown and the city parks, through casual lunches and dinners and desserts.

congregating around food so she holds a fork or a burger or an ice cream cone in her hand while she fights the urge to hold kara's hand.

lena learns about who kara is. a reporter by day (who moonlights as a superhero, lena muses, but kara doesn't share that information). an avid pop music lover and movie buff. a regular buff with hard cuts of muscles. arms arms arms arms--

kara is lame. a dork. goofy. foolish. beautiful. quiet. pensive. perceptive. deep. kind. loving. oh, so loving. so very loving.

kara is a hugger. a holder. an engulfer. an overwhelmer. she is the ocean and lena is the lone driftwood that crashes against waves. lena wants to be washed ashore only for the ocean to capture her once more because the ocean can't be denied.

she doesn't want to deny kara.

"lena?"

she blinks back to her present, washing away the cloud of her thoughts. right. they're at dinner. her fork held midair just before her mouth. they are in kara's apartment.

"yes, darling?"

kara smiles at her, though there is concern in her eyes. "where'd you go just now?"

she wants to say she went to the ocean but it's true either way when she offers her best smile to kara who mirrors it easily, breezily.

"i was just thinking that your cooking has gotten better."

kara ducks her head, her smile turning shy. "thanks, lena."

lena doesn't want to deny kara.

-

briefly, distantly, lena thinks that perhaps there's an inevitability to this moment.

this moment being:

kara is standing in front of her with her button down shirt opened to the fifth button where lena sees the S emblem over kara's chest.

"i wanted to tell you. f-for so long, i just--" she stops herself and takes a deep breath. "i'm sorry, lena."

lena is quiet. her vision unable to focus on any one thing. she looks at the blonde of her hair out of its regular ponytail. at the blue of kara's eyes. at the red of the symbol atop her chest.

blonde blue red.

"you're an alien." she announces it for the first time, despite the truth have sat carefully under her tongue for months.

kara swallows, then nods. "lena-"

what did that old lady say? she can't remember right now because her brain is buzzing, her heart is thumping, and the overwhelming urge to melt into kara is all she can think about.

she propels forward, pushing up on the tips of her toes, and kisses kara.

kara's arms are around her, hands holding her, body engulfing her.

soft lips slide against hers, press upon her, permanently transforming the chemistry of her body with the way that kara is now part of her.

when they break apart, she only grins at the dazed expression on kara's face.

"you...you like me too?"

she is beaming because of course she likes kara too, likes her more than like. so she answers by kissing kara again.

-

for their first date, kara takes her to a small italian hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

"this is my favorite italian spot in the city. in the state, actually. maybe even the country!" kara exclaims, excitedly talking and gesticulating but making sure that their hands stay interlaced with one another.

when they get there, they're seated right away, a young woman seating them in the back booth.

"hi, kara. table for 2?"

kara nods and lena watches. "you come here often?" she asks.

"yeah. i hit this place up at least a couple times a month. good thing my metabolism allows me to eat as much pasta as i want. the chef in the back makes it fresh every day."

amidst drinking wine and twirling their forks in their pasta, kara is leaning closer to her, the two of them sitting adjacent to each other, their elbows grazing each other on the corner.

when they finish, kara pays, insists on it, and asks if they can stop by the kitchen to pay compliments to the chef. with hands still intertwined, kara pushes the swinging door forward, and calls for chef nina.

lena watches as kara releases her hold of lena and approaches the short and frumpy old lady who only wipes her hands on a stained white apron before opening her arms up to receive kara's hug.

over kara's shoulder, the old lady winks at lena.

and lena?

well, she just laughs and laughs, kisses kara on the lips, and hugs the old lady.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Can you do some Christmas fluff with rooster? 💕

Sure! Thank you for the request <3 Hope you like it :D

Christmas On Deck

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Summary: You're stuck at the airport on Christmas Eve and, naturally, you meet a pilot. What's his name, again?

CW: Fluffity fluff with a smidge of angst

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, are you kidding me?” you groan in response to the latest flight delay announcement over the airport intercom. The gate is packed with equally irritable travellers whose flights have been postponed on account of the blizzard. You let out a weary sigh and plop down into the only available seat in your vicinity, which happens to be right next to some dude with a pornstache who’s wearing a Hawaiian shirt – even though your destination is Vermont – and Ray Bans – even though you’re indoors.

“What a nightmare,” you hear him mutter under his breath, his lip curling sideways underneath his bizarre facial hair. He’s got several scars running down the side of his face.

You eye him inconspicuously as he pulls a book out of his backpack, partly because he smells nice but mostly because you’ve got nothing better to do. When he leans back into his seat, his shoulder brushes against yours accidentally. He looks up at you apologetically.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

You give him a tight smile, wondering if he’s going to keep his sunglasses on while he reads. “It’s cool,” you respond. “It’s not your fault we’re all cramped in here.”

He chuckles, trying to squeeze his broad shoulders inward, but his arms still manage to extend beyond both sides of his seat. Finally, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his legs, and opens his book.

For some reason, the low rasp of his voice and the way he seems greatly unfazed by the prospect of being stuck at an airport on Christmas Eve makes you weirdly interested in striking up a conversation with him. “Is it a little bright for you?” you say cheekily, noting that he hasn’t removed his shades.

The man turns his head slowly to look at you over his shoulder. He straightens his back slightly, a small smile forming underneath his ridiculous mustache that, you hate to admit, is becoming increasingly attractive with every passing minute. He lifts his hand to tap on the frame, letting the glasses slide a touch down his nose as he squints at you, studying your face. Instead of answering your question, he poses his own: “You going somewhere special for the holidays?”

“Home,” you say. If you ever get there. “You?”

He takes off his sunglasses and hooks them into the collar of his white undershirt. “Some friends are going skiing,” he says, shrugging.

You nod, not really sure where to take the conversation next, when there’s another announcement indicating that all flights have been cancelled for the rest of the night. You close your eyes in disappointment as the rest of the terminal groans in response to the news. “Great,” you say. “Christmas Eve and Christmas morning at the damn airport.”

The man watches you sympathetically for a few moments before saying, “Yeah, bummer.” His eyes scan your face for another several seconds and then he shoves his book back into his backpack and stands up. “Come on,” he says, motioning with his head for you to follow.

You furrow your eyebrows at him suspiciously, not at all eager to accompany a strange man to an unknown destination, regardless of how good-looking he may be.

He senses your hesitation and extends his hand. “It’s not far,” he says. “Promise.”

You swallow uneasily, putting your hand in his. His warm fingers curl around yours and he gently pulls you out of your seat. He doesn’t let go of your hand once you’re up, holding onto you instead while he navigates the crowd of angry passengers at the gate. He draws you out of the horde and down one of the largely empty corridors of the airport. “Where are we going?” you ask cautiously.

“Here,” he says, turning a corner into a dimly lit room with large windows exposing the flurrying snow outside.

“Wow,” you breathe, taking a step forward when he finally lets go of your hand. You walk toward the window spanning the entire wall from the floor up, watching the storm blanket the terminal, snowing in several parked planes.

Mustache walks up behind you. “It’s the observation deck,” he says, looking out onto the apron with a smile.

You glance up at him, admiring the shape of his jaw, and his neck, and his broad shoulders, and his mustache, goddamnit, and wonder if he’ll ever tell you his name because, at this point, it feels awkward to ask. You grin to yourself and then sit right down onto the carpeted floor, crossing your legs. “In that case,” you say. “Let’s observe.”

The man chuckles lightly and takes a seat next to you on the floor. He unzips his backpack and pulls out a bag of chips. “Salt and vinegar?” he offers, ripping the bag open and holding it out to you.

You laugh. “This is dinner, isn’t it?”

“This,” he says, and then pulls out a box of Ritz crackers. “And this.”

“Yes!” you exclaim, grabbing the box out of his hands.

“And, for dessert…” he adds, digging his hand back into the bag and pulling out another box.

Your jaw drops in your excitement. “Oreos!”

He nods. “I’ve got a lot of Oreos,” he says, pulling out several packages of the cookies.

“Amazing!” you say. “I hit the jackpot sitting next to you, didn’t I?”

He grins, his teeth grazing over his lip as he curls it in. “I was thinking the same thing about you,” he says.

You glance up to meet his gaze, blushing slightly.

He reaches out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You’re really fucking pretty,” he says.

You smile at him, deciding that being stuck in an airport on Christmas Eve isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.

You spend the next couple of hours eating and chatting. You find out that he’s a pilot in the Navy, that his father died when he was just a boy, and that his mother passed away when he was a teenager. He tells you about Top Gun, about his squad, about how he’s indifferent when it comes to Christmas because he doesn’t really have anybody to spend it with. He even tells you what his favorite food is. What he doesn’t tell you is his name. And he doesn’t ask for yours.

You don’t bother either; what the point? After tonight, you’ll never see him again, so there’s no sense in getting attached. It wouldn’t be the first time you spent the night with a stranger without so much as exchanging numbers. Unfortunately, besides being exceptionally cute, the guy is actually boyfriend material. He’s genuine, and funny, and considerate, and you’re finding him especially easy to talk to. Perhaps it’s because both of you know that, by this time tomorrow, the stranger you’ve shared all your secrets with will be out of your life for good.

This is great. This is therapeutic. This sort of transient camaraderie is what travelling is all about. You don’t build lasting relationships with random people you meet at the bus stop, or at a train station. Why should an airport be any different?

There’s a chiming in the distance and you look down at your phone. Midnight.

“Merry Christmas,” he says.

You look up at him with a small smile. “Hopefully Santa knows where to find us.”

He chuckles while you rub your hands together. “Cold?” he asks, pulling a blanket out of his backpack.

“Is there anything you don’t have in there?” you ask.

He shrugs. “I like to be prepared.” He hands you the blanket.

You unfold it and move closer to him, trying to wrap it around both your shoulders and his.

“Here,” he says, shifting to lean his back against one of the seats and spreading his feet so you could sit between his legs.

You stand up to walk around him, and then lower yourself in front of his body. His hands are on your legs the moment your knees bend, helping you down. His touch sends a shockwave through you, and you glance back to see him looking up at you lustfully. You gulp as you sit down, his hands sliding slowly up the sides of your thighs. You lick your lips, sliding backward until you feel your hips align with his, and then you slowly lean your back against his chest and pull the blanket over both of you. His arms close around yours under the fleece and he lets out a sigh. You rest your head on his shoulder and he lowers his face to press his cheek against your hair.

“This is nice,” you mutter, already warming up as his large hand closes around your arm. His thumb begins to brush your skin as he makes a soft humming sound in agreement.

…

You wake up to the hot sun radiating through the giant windows of the room. You’re lying on the ground with the man you met last night beside you under the twisted blanket, his extremely heavy arm crushing your shoulder. You don’t mind it, though; his sculpted arms kept you warm all night.

You rotate onto your back and he stirs, lifting his hand to rest it over your abdomen as he nuzzles his face against the side of your head.

“Good morning,” he whispers, his fingers gently stroking your stomach.

You smile at the ceiling, your eyes still adjusting to the brightness of the room. “Merry Christmas,” you say.

He sighs and his hot breath bathes your neck. “It is,” he murmurs, his hand tangling in the blanket as he grips your waist to pull you closer.

You shut your eyes, enjoying the very best Christmas present you’ve ever received. But, just when you’re about to turn your head and finally give your companion a kiss, a loud beep followed by an announcement indicating that flights have resumed interrupts the moment.

You exhale slowly, not bothering to conceal your disappointment, and Mustache chuckles into your ear, tickling the side of your face. “I wonder if Santa found us,” he says quietly.

You glance over at his mischievous smirk and sit up. There’s a Christmas tree in the corner of the room that you hadn’t noticed the previous night because it was too dark. Under the tree, there are an assortment of snacks – including more Oreos – that he must’ve gotten from the vending machine overnight. You giggle as you make your way toward it. There’s also a small package of travel socks, a neck pillow, and an airplane keychain. You pick it up, observing that the plane doesn’t resemble any commercial airline.

“It’s a Rhino,” he says, and you look up at him in confusion.

“It’s an airplane,” you respond with a smile, dangling the ring from your index finger.

He chuckles. “F-18,” he clarifies. “It’s the jet I fly.”

“They sell these here?” you ask, although you already know the answer.

He shakes his head and then shrugs. “Just something to remember me by,” he says, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants.

You blink at him without responding, thinking that his name might also help. But you’ve already decided that it’s best not to know. “Thanks,” you say finally, closing your hand around the tiny plane. “I, uh, didn’t get you anything.”

He grins. “Yes, you did,” he says. “You gave me the best Christmas Eve and morning I’ve had in a very long time.”

You smile back at him. “We should do it again some time.”

He chuckles but his face falls slightly, as though he’s not optimistic about the likelihood of an encore. “Same time next year?”

You hold his gaze for a moment before the intercom blares, declaring that you have ten minutes to get to your plane. You gather the snacks, dispersing them between your carry-on bag and his, and make your way back to the gate.

The attendant calls on the back rows to start boarding and you give Mustache one last look. He squeezes your hand, and you don’t want him to let go, but he does anyway.

“I bet you have a really pretty name,” he says. It must have occurred to him also that there would be no point in knowing it.

“Have a safe flight,” you say.

He nods. “You too.”

Your mouth is taut when you give him a final smile and turn away, but before you make it past the checkpoint, you turn back to look at him again. He waves at you but you step out of the line anyway, going against the stream of bodies desperate to get onto the aircraft. He gives you a questioning look when you arrive before him. “Uh,” you start, unsure how to express what you mean to say. “Not just this flight.”

“What?” he asks.

“You’re a pilot,” you clarify. He narrows his eyes. “So, I just wanted to say, may all your flights be safe.”

He watches you solemnly as you chew on your lip. Then, you throw your hands around his neck just as he wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground in a passionate embrace. He kisses your neck as you sink your head into his shoulder. When he puts you down, his mouth is still trailing up the side of your face, leaving in its wake a string of delicate kisses. He brings his hands up to take you by the shoulders, resting his forehead on yours. “Hi,” he says. “I’m Bradley. It’s nice to meet you.”

You smile, watching the lower half of his face transform when you respond. “Hi, Bradley. I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he whispers, his lips hovering over yours. “I knew you had a pretty name.”

You chuckle briefly, but then his hand starts gliding along your shoulder and up your neck and, suddenly, you’re not in a laughing mood. “How long are you going to be in Vermont?” you ask, closing your eyes.

“How long are you going to be in Vermont?” he responds.

You smile as his mouth connects with yours, as his fingers trace swirls into your cheek, as his tongue drifts along your bottom lip before he catches it gently between his teeth.

“You taste like Oreos and Coke,” he murmurs.

“That’s what you gave me for breakfast,” you respond against his lips.

“I’ll have to do better next time.”

You look up at him after pulling away. “I thought it was perfect.”

He nods, his eyes perusing your face as his hand slips down to grasp yours. “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks.

You grin. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

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[neonponders]

I had an intrusive thought today (wholesome Harrington parents) :

Steve’s dad is a commercial pilot, which explains why he’s gone all the time, but when he’s home during the school year, he uses his “pilot voice” to wake Steve up. Like, that smooth, tired radio voice that pilots use to talk over the flight intercom about the weather.

“Good morning Steve, it’s a quarter past the hour. I’ve knocked on your door four times now. The rain is getting progressively worse, much like your tardiness this morning. At this rate, your pancakes are cold, your first class is missed, and your mother is cancelling Puerto Vallarta this summer. God speed.”

[tessa-liam]

Life Goes On

Marabelle Series

Chapter 15 – Part 2

Choices – The Royal Romance, AU – (cross-over with Rules of Engagement)

Series Premise – An American teenager from New York City is introduced to the world of a small European country and its society of royalty, nobility, and commoners. How will her life story be transformed? Will this new adventure bring her happiness...or regret?

Marabelle Series Masterlist, My Complete Masterlist

Main Pairing – Crown Prince Liam Rys x F!OC Lady Sophia (Sophie) Taylor

Other Pairings – Maxwell Beaumont x M!OC Daniel (from NYC), Drake Walker x F!OC Melanie Smithson

Most characters belong to Choices/Pixelberry Studios

Series Rating – M*🔞Warnings: this series will have NSFW material, drinking, crude language & innuendo, gun violence

Many thanks to @selina012 for pre-reading.

Category – Alternate universe/on-going series/angst/fluff/cross-over with Choices Rules of Engagement

Chapter Summary – Liam returns home to Cordonia to find Sophie and to address his nation about the university terror attack.

Music & Title Inspiration: Life Goes On, Ed Sheeran, Luke Combs; Run To You, Lucy Thomas

A/N1: Bethany Beaumont, Maxwell’s mother, is originally from the U.S. and is Barthelemy Beaumont’s second wife. Annabelle Beaumont (deceased) is Bertrand’s mother.

A/N2: ‘Social Season’ in this AU series refers to a traditional period in the spring/summer for royalty and members of the court to take part in Balls, dinner parties and charity events.

A/N3: Heartfelt thanks to @Selina012 for joining me in writing ideas and with dialogue/content for this chapter and series.

Aboard the Royal jet, Rashad peered outside the window and took in the white sands of Cordonia's shores passing by. Suddenly his ears popped, and the pilot spoke over the intercom, announcing the estimated arrival time was in 5 minutes. He felt nervous and helpless and could not help but repeat his fears in his mind: ‘There hasn't been any good news’.

Drake watched Liam walk away from his seat, his hand curled around a glass tumbler filled with an expensive scotch. He wondered if they would hear news before they landed. Remembering his best friend's emotional spiral downward after the past assassination attempt three years ago at the palace; this had the makings of that same pattern. This time though, Drake was not going to leave Liam alone.

The dire problem of not having any clues where Sophie was at the moment was suffocating.

As they waited to land, the minutes seemed to draw out. There was not much he or any of Liam's guards could do but wait and prepare to offer the crown prince their full support.

Liam finished off his scotch, the fiery liquid barely registering, and tried to review the notes for his upcoming address to his nation in his head while stepping into his private suite onboard.

There had still been no update on his beloved Sophie's whereabouts or circumstances.

He took a deep, long breath and turned to Bastien walking next to him with unmistakable determination. "Bastien, contact the security team back home immediately. I need all the current details on the scene and an update on the rescue operations."

Bastien sprang into action, calling the security team leader and putting him on speakerphone so that Liam could hear the conversation in real time. Captain Sean Wilson answered the call.

"Captain, this is Crown Prince Liam Rys, requesting an update on the incident at the University of Cordonia." Liam's voice came through the phone speaker, clear and strong.

"Your Highness, the situation at the scene is complicated and we have deployed additional rescue teams to help facilitate the speedy rescue and recovery process.”

The captain’s voice was tired but remained professional. "We have confirmation that multiple students have been injured in the shooting. We have increased security three-fold around the campus and are working diligently to track down the suspects."

Liam's fists clenched involuntarily, but he remained stoic as he continued. "I need a complete list of all the known casualties. I want to know about each and every one."

"Your Highness, we have established a comprehensive emergency response mechanism. At present, we are compiling the information and rescue teams are working at full ability. The list of casualties is being urgently collated, and I will send it to you via encrypted channels as soon as it is completed."

Liam nodded, and though he could not be seen, there was an unmistakable insistence in his tone: "I need this completed as soon as possible. In addition, please continue to strengthen the search and rescue efforts to ensure the safety of all students. At the same time, increase the manpower to hunt down the suspects and I demand that they be brought to justice in the shortest possible time."

Shortly after hanging up, the sound of an encrypted email rang on Liam's tablet, which he quickly clicked on; and displayed a list of known casualties on the screen as asked. There were fourteen people in the column of the dead, and dozens of names in the column of the injured. Liam took a deep breath and began to go through the list of names, one by one, each name like a sharp blade, stabbing at his heart. He searched carefully, afraid to miss any possible detail. But until the end, he did not find Sophie's name.

Liam clenched his fists, his eyes shining with unshakeable determination. "Bastien, as soon as the jet lands, we will go to the scene and assess the situation personally.”

Bastien, at once responded: "Yes, Your Highness. I will ensure that everything is in place."

Liam turned his head to stare out the window at the clouds; his heart was in turmoil. Although Sophie's name did not appear on the list of casualties, his fears did not diminish. He knew that the lack of news did not mean that Sophie was necessarily safe. That she might still be struggling, or that for some reason she might not be able to communicate with the outside world. He had to ensure that Sophie was safe personally.

Thinking of this, he took out his phone and touched Sophie’s number with trembling fingers. But all he heard on the other end of the line was a cold, robotic voice: 'Sorry, the number you are trying to reach is unavailable.'

Sending a text, he carefully tapped every letter, as he expressed his worries and thoughts.

'Love, please call me as soon as you get this message. I'm worried about you.'

___

'Where are you? Are you safe? Why can't I reach you?'

___

'I'm already on my way back to Cordonia. Please wait for me. Please.'

As the minutes ticked by, the 'unread' message on the screen was an ironic and cruel reminder of the futility of all his efforts.

Frustrated, he then tried to call Sophie's aunt and then sent a text message to Maxwell. 'Max, are you okay? Where are you? Have you heard from Sophie?'

Shortly after, his phone vibrated and Liam checked the text immediately .... only to see Maxwell reply,

"Liam, me and Daniel are at the Malic Hotel now, we're all right. But Sophie got separated in the confusion!!!!😢 I have been trying to reach her without success. I'm really worried about her.'

Receiving this update, Liam, although still anxious, was also relieved that Maxwell felt safe. He immediately replied: "Max, good to hear you're okay. Please keep in touch, I'll be back as soon as I can, and we'll find Sophie together."

Liam then picked up his phone again and sent a text message to Sophie's Aunt Bethany:

'Duchess Bethany, this is Liam. How are you? Have you heard from Sophie? I am very concerned for her safety.'

A few minutes later, Bethany replied to his message: 'Your Highness, I'm fine, but Sophie hasn't been heard from since the ceremony. I am also anxiously awaiting her contact. Please try to not worry, I'm sure she will be all right'

Liam's heart sank to rock bottom as he closed his eyes, silently praying that she would be found safe and unharmed. At the same time, he also felt a deep sorrow for all the innocent victims of the attack. He understood as crown prince, he had the responsibility and obligation, along with his father, to ensure the security of the country and its people. This attack was an acute test of his leadership.

University of Cordonia, Capital

As Sophie wandered aimlessly through the maze of people, her eyes welled up. The adrenaline of an earlier escape from the auditorium faded and she felt more sadness, fear and heartache than she had ever felt before. For a moment, she could not control her emotions and tears ran down her cheeks. How she wished it all had been a bad dream, that she would wake up and find that it had all been a false alarm.

An hour later, Sophie and other surviving students and guests were evacuated in an orderly manner to a hotel outside of the campus, the Malic Hotel. The hotel was temporarily requisitioned as an emergency shelter and was surrounded by police and security personnel to ensure internal safety and order. But even so, there was an indescribable tension and unease still in the air.

Sophie had been assigned to room 302. The moment she stepped into her hotel room; Sophie could finally catch her breath. She sat wearily on the edge of the bed, looking out of the window with empty eyes, but her mood could not be calmed. She was eager to know more about what happened at the graduation, especially the mysterious men in black masks, their identity, purpose and why they were there; all of these became lingering questions in her mind.

She instinctively wanted to turn on her phone, hoping to find some clue or news report that would at least give her a sense of what had happened. But reality threw icy water at her - her phone screen was broken and riddled with cracks. She quickly pressed the power button, but the screen only flickered a few times, and then no longer responded. Sophie's eyes flashed with despair, as her contact with the outside world was completely cut off.

Thoughts came like a flood. She missed her Aunt Bethany, who supported her no matter what she was going through, who gave her endless warmth and encouragement, and who always made her feel at home in Cordonia. At the same time, she missed her horse, Marabelle. Every time she mounted Marabelle's back and galloped across the wide fields of Ramsford, all her troubles seemed to go away with the wind. Marabelle's eyes were always full of trust and loyalty, and there was a tacit understanding between them without words. How she wished now that she could feel the freedom and joy of running with Marabelle again.

But most of all, she missed Liam. In this unknown and dangerous moment, how she wished he could be with her, give her support and comfort. Liam, the man she was in love with, who gave her strength. She had never been so impatient to see him, to feel safe in his arms.

Now, however, she could only face all this alone; tears in her eyes had slipped down once again. In addition to missing Liam, Sophie's mind was filled with anxiety about the attack. She did not know how many people had been injured or even killed in the attack; whether Candy and Tom would get better, or what was going on with Maxwell and Daniel. They were her friends and family, and their safety stuck with her. She prayed silently that they would be safe.

Amidst this anxiety, there was so many questions. Who were those men in black at the graduation? Why would they target innocent students? What is the purpose behind this attack?

What puzzled her even more was the emblem of the earth and the baby. What does it mean? What has it got to do with the attack?

Her mind was full of confusion and uneasiness, questions swirled with no answers in sight, leaving her breathless. She tried to piece together every detail of the night in her mind, hoping to remember a clue or an answer. But the images were fragmented, leaving her unable to grasp and put together any useful information.

"Liam ..." Sophia muttered under her breath. She recalled what Liam had said about what he had experienced as a young prince and the memories of an assassination attempt that had fear cutting through his heart like a sharp blade.

Exhaustion came flooding in, overwhelming all her thoughts and feelings. Sophie lay in bed, breathing smoothly and deeply, and her body relaxed, as if all her worries and pain had been temporarily released at that moment. She drifted off to sleep with all her doubts, uneasiness, sadness, and longing for Liam.

The Royal Palace, Cordonia

The press was relentless. Inside the throne room, King Constantine stood stoically, as members of the press core demanded answers about the campus attack. Constantine cleared his throat and addressed the press directly and with the assurance of his years of reign and released a statement:

“At this dark hour, I stand before you with profound grief and pain in my heart. Like many of you, I am mourning the lives lost today, and we pray for the wounded to make a full recovery.

While we grieve the senseless violence that struck our country, we are also furious with the loss and sorrow brought on by those responsible for this evil act. We cannot and will not tolerate the murder and harming of innocent lives simply because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Those who commit such unspeakable acts will be held accountable and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the crown.”

Stepping down from the dais, Constantine was at once escorted by his royal guard out of the throne room. He looked visibly shaken and gripped his cane, trying to stand straight and upright.

Constantine's face was pale, and his eyes were filled with deep sorrow, his elderly face looked worn. But he refused to shed tears, still maintaining his dignified manner, while in public.

Lawrence, his personal guard, moved quickly to his side, “Your Majesty, the Royal jet has just landed with your son.”

Malic Motor Hotel, temporary safe house, University of Cordonia

The second group of surviving students were transported to the Malic hotel in orderly batches by the police in the pre-dawn night. The bright lights in the lobby could not hide the tension and in these in the air. Police officers, security personnel and medical staff were busy shuttling through the hallways to ensure that every student was properly accommodated.

The noise of footsteps and a murmur of conversation broke the sounds of the night. Sophie woke up, opened her eyes slightly, and through a gap in the half-closed curtains. She saw several figures hurrying along the corridor, as if new survivors had been brought in. She got up and dressed. Soon the door was gently opened, and a figure slowly entered the room. It was a girl about Sophie's age, a little wobbly in her step, visibly shaken by the night's horror and still reeling from the shock.

"Hey, um ... excuse me. I was assigned to this room. Is it okay if I come in?" The girl's voice was small and trembling, and her eyes were slightly timid.

Sophie at once stood up and smiled back, "Hello, come on in." The girl came closer, and Sophie could see her face. She had an East Asian face, long deep brown hair, and large black eyes full of fear and confusion, as if she had just woken up from a nightmare.

The girl said softly, "thank you, my name is Hana. What happened tonight was terrible ..."

Sophie took Hana's hand and sat her down on the edge of the bed. "Hi Hana, my name is Sophie. I know we have been through the same horror. But it is all right now. We can talk together and maybe it will make you feel better." Sophie tried to sound calm and friendly, hoping to bring some comfort to the girl.

Hana gave Sophie a grateful look, and took a deep breath. She began with great determination to recount her own experience at the graduation.

"I was with friends and all of a sudden the lights went out and they were gunshots ... I tried to run away, but there were screams and chaos all around me. I really don't know how I got out. I was taken to the stadium with some people and stayed there almost overnight until we were brought here. But I never saw my friends again. I got separated from them, I do not know what became of them..." Hana wiped tears from her eyes.

Sophie listened quietly, with a surge of sympathy and understanding. She thought of her friends Candy and Tom, and her cousin Maxwell and Daniel, and a pang of worry filled her heart.

"Hana, I've had my own friends injured and go missing too. Candy's arm was hit by shrapnel, Tom was shot in the shoulder, and they are both in the hospital; and Maxwell and Daniel got separated from me when they escaped. I am really worried about them. But I'm sure they will be all right. Your friends must have gotten out safely, too. You must believe that."

Hana's eyes flashed with emotion and trust as she listened to Sophie's words. "Sophie, you are such a strong person. If only I could be as brave as you."

Sophie patted Hana's arm gently and smiled wryly.

"Hana, it's normal to be afraid in this situation. In fact, I am also afraid, and all the people who have been through this attack."

Then Sophie's tone became a little heavier, and she decided to tell Hana what she had seen. With that, Sophie picked up the paper and pen on the table in the room and drew the sign from memory. Hana's face turned pale when she saw Sophie's drawing; her eyes widened, and she repeated in disbelief, "you saw this sign?"

Sophie nodded, her words unmistakable, "Yes, I'm sure. It was a very strange sign. I saw it clearly. They acted quickly and in an orderly manner. They were not ordinary thugs."

Hana held Sophie's hand tightly, her voice shaking slightly. "This sign, I have seen on the news, but with what specific event, I can't remember. However, it is definitely unusual and must be the hallmark of an organisation or group."

Sophie's eyes sharpened, and she frowned in thought. "This is no coincidence. The men in black were clearly prepared, and their attack may well have been targeted. We must tell the police about this as soon as possible.”

Hana shuddered, her voice filled with fear and worry. "But... will that put us in danger? If they are really that powerful, will they retaliate?"

Sophie's heartrate quickened. Of course she was afraid. The scene of Candy and Tom being shot and wounded replayed again before her eyes. The blood staining their shirts, the pain and helplessness weaving in their desperate eyes. These were images that she could never forget.

Then, in her mind, the panic of people running away, their faces showing fear and helplessness. Screams, cries, and pleas for help made up the most tragic symphony of the night. Fires were burning, the smoke was billowing, and the whole evening was enveloped in despair and confusion.

But thinking of the students who had been victimized, of Maxwell and Daniel who were still missing, and of Candy and Tom who were still in the hospital ... Sophie took a deep breath and quieted her heart. She could not let her fear consume her. She knew that her friends needed her. ... 'If you do not step up, Sophie, this kind of tragedy will happen again.'

Sophie stiffened her resolve, her voice was soft, yet powerful: "No, Hana, we cannot stay quiet. Candy, Tom, and your friends are just some of the many people who were hurt tonight. If we stay silent because we are afraid, more people will be hurt in the future. We can't let this continue to happen."

Hana's fear was replaced by a kind of courage as she listened to Sophie's words. "You're right, Sophie. I won't back down," She nodded firmly.

"Sophie, I'm so happy to meet you." Hana looked sheepishly at Sophie, blushing.

"If it wasn't for you, I don't know what I would have done."

She touched Hana's arm and smiled, "I know you have determination, too, Hana." Sophie was genuinely happy ... happy to be friends with Hana.

Sophie hesitated for a moment, then whispered to Hana, "Hana,can you show me the news? My phone broke during the attack." She pulled out her cracked cell phone.

Hana nodded, and picked up her phone from the nightstand to open the news app. Together, they stared at the small screen, searching for news related to last night's university shooting.

On the screen, several shocking reports soon came into view. The mass shooting at the University of Cordonia had attracted widespread attention from the national and international community. The report detailed the chaos and bloodshed of the night, but also said that the police were fully investigating the incident and promised to bring the perpetrators to justice as soon as possible. As she read, she felt mixed feelings.

Sophie continued browsing. Suddenly, a marked headline hit her eyes and made her heart beat faster. --

"Crown Prince Liam Rys urgently ends his visit to Italy and returns home to respond to the shooting incident at Cordonia University."

She tapped eagerly; the live broadcast of the news began automatically.

On the screen, Liam stood in the doorway of the familiar white, shadowy auditorium, behind which the smoke had not fully cleared and live images of ambulances and police cars could be seen. Liam's figure stood unwavering behind press microphones.. He wore a black suit, his eyes were slightly solemn, but his face was more resolute and decided, that could not be ignored.

Sophie stared intently at the screen, every subtle expression of Liam tugging at her heartstrings. His voice came clearly over the phone, calm and strong.

Sophie's eyes were red and brimmed with tears. Her heart was racing, as she felt Liam's deep emotion coming through the screen. And then Liam's words turned to unquestioning determination:

Sophie stared at the screen, her tears spilling onto her cheeks. The moment she heard him say the words, 'Our Cordonian family', her heart swelling with indescribable excitement and pride; she wanted to run to his side and face all of this with him. However, this emotion was quickly overcome by reason, knowing that she could not expose her relationship with Liam, especially when there were other people around watching. She gently turned down the volume on the phone for fear that Hana would notice her emotional reactions. She clutched the phone tightly, as if she could feel Liam's presence and power in her hand.

"Sophie, what's wrong?"

Hana's voice sounded softly, interrupting her thoughts. Sophie suddenly came back to herself with a disguised smile, trying to sound natural. "Oh, nothing, I just didn't expect Prince Liam to be back so soon, it's only been a few hours since the shooting."

There was a subtle tremor in Sophie's words, afraid that her mind would be read by Hana and cause unnecessary trouble for Liam. She knew that at this particular moment she had to be careful not to reveal her relationship with Liam.

"Hana, could I possibly use your phone again? I want to send a text to my family and tell them about my situation."

Hana heard her words, a flicker of concern in her eyes. She seemed aware of Sophie's inner struggle and longing, but out of respect and trust, she did not ask any more questions, just smiled and nodded, "Of course, Sophie." You can use it whenever you need."

Sophie gave Hana a grateful look, and a warm wave came through her heart. She quickly opened the text messages on the phone, her fingers jumping over the keyboard, as she sent two messages. The first one to Aunt Bethany and the second one to Maxwell. In the text messages, Sophie told them that she was doing well and that they should not worry. She expressed concern for Maxwell and Daniel and hoped they were safe.

After sending the two texts, Sophie took a deep breath and began her text to Liam. She edited the text carefully ...

"Hi, Li, this is Sophie.

I'm all right. I am in Room 302 at the Malic Hotel at the university.

There was a shooting at the graduation, and I was lucky to escape. My phone is broken, and now I'm texting you on my roommate, Hana's phone.

I know you must be terribly busy and worried at the moment, but please believe me, I am fine and safe.

Don't worry about me. Just focus on what's needed right in front of you. I love you and look forward to seeing you soon."

The message didn't mention Liam's real name, and Sophie was confident that he would get her message. After pressing the send button, the words "Delivered" appeared on the screen. Suppressing her feelings, she quickly removed the text message, making sure it left no trace.

It didn’t take long for Sophie to hear back from Maxwell and Aunt Bethany.

Maxwell:

“Sophie, it’s so good to hear from you! Daniel and I are at the Malic Hotel too, and we are doing fine. We were looking for you, too. Just relieved to hear you are okay. We’ll talk more when we meet up.”

Aunt Bethany:

“Dear Sophie, I’m so happy to hear from you! Thank God you are okay. We are all so worried about you, but now we can relax. Be safe and we will see each other soon.”

After receiving notifications of incoming messages, the corners of her mouth cannot help but raise in a happy smile, a big stone in her heart finally fell to the ground. Sophie held the phone and re-read their loving words, feeling the warmth and support from her family.

A ray of sunlight penetrated a gap in the curtain and gently spilled into the hotel room, shining on Sophie's face. She gently closed her eyes, quietly feeling the warmth of the sun, the soft light made her very at ease, like a pair of warm hands, smoothing her fear and anxiety away. She was relieved that Maxwell and Daniel had escaped safely and that she could tell Aunt Bethany about herself.

And Liam will know that she's safe. Sophie found a trace of comfort and strength in reaching out to him.

"Thank you, Hana." Sophie smiled and handed the phone back to her new friend.

Hana took the phone and put it away, quietly watching it all, with a warm glow in her eyes. She may not know the story between Sophie and Liam, but she could sense that there was a deep emotion and connection with him in Sophie's heart. In this time of uncertainty, they were supporting each other and facing life's challenges together.

Cordonia International Airport

The Royal motorcade was situated on the tarmac in wait to take Liam and his men to the university.

Liam strode quickly and confidently to his SUV after his security detail had provided Liam with a report of all the victims and fatalities. Sophie's name was not listed, and Liam's heart remained uncertain, until he saw her with his own eyes.

His duty of keeping alert and informed for his country allowed Liam to control his fears of the possibility of seeing his beloved injured or worse. He fought against every fiber of his being to not burst through the chaos, with full disregard, to search for Sophie among the evacuated students. Liam, surrounded by his royal guard, Drake and Rashad, he walked onto the university grounds.

Drake, on the other hand, was not worried about propriety and cared for none of it. He rushed in and did not pay attention to anything but finding Sophie and Maxwell. He broke past some of the law enforcement and was met by a swarm of flashing cameras and press microphones.

"Back away!" He snapped, having to put his forearm up, and not relent. The flashing bulbs, whirring of camera lenses and questions being thrown at him was enough to drive any sane person mad.

"Don't you have decency? What type of scoundrels and fiends are you?"

An officer who recognized Drake, yelled, "settle down, everyone, he's an American friend of the prince's, stand down and don't crowd him."

On the campus of the University of Cordonia, even after several hours had passed, the chaos in the auditorium had not abated by a minute. Several police cars and ambulances, flashing their warning lights, stood by the side of the road at the ready. Police officers and ambulance workers were busy moving around the scene, serious and focused, although physically and mentally exhausted, but still stuck to their posts, to deal with the incident.

A police cordon has been placed around the scene to seal off the auditorium from the outside world. Liam saw the chaos and destruction ... and the despair of his people.

Liam took a deep breath, adjusted his emotions, and walked resolutely into the crowd and up onto the raised dais. The crowd grew quiet, and all eyes turned to the crown prince.

" Last night, our university campus has experienced an unprecedented trauma. On behalf of the royal family of Cordonia, I extend my sincere comfort and deepest condolences to all those who have been hurt and who have been affected by this tragedy. Your pain is the pain of all Cordonia. We will do everything possible to provide the necessary support and needed assistance to make sure everyone gets through this."

At this point, Liam's eyes flashed a subtle tenderness, that is his endless miss and love for Sophie.

But Liam took a deep breath and condensed his emotions and anger into a powerful determination.

"We will not sit idly by and let go of any of these terrorists. I promise that the Crown will use all resources in its power to track down the attackers and punish those responsible for this tragedy. We will bring justice to the victims, and to our people, to our Cordonian family."

***

The sky in the east gradually lightened as the night slowly faded; like the tide falling, as if in response to his words. A ray of dawn pierced the darkness, and the sun rose at last. The golden light slowly and gently spread over the campus, silently dispelling the darkness and cold; to bring a touch of warmth to the morning. There was renewed trust and hope in the eyes of the crowd. At this moment, they are silently praying, their hearts are full of deep hope: may such a tragedy never be repeated, so that the dead can rest in peace, and so that the living can find the strength to move forward; In the hope that the murderer will be punished, and there will be no hiding places of any crimes and evils.

As the Royal guard escorted Liam from the stage, Bastien approached with Liam’s mobile phone in hand.

“Sir, Lady Sophia has left you a message.”

Thanks for reading ❣️

@choicesficwriterscreations

@selina012

📌tags in the comments, please let me know if you want to be added or removed.

[goldthorn-archive]

rn im thinking about john egan’s pilot voice. yk how pilots have a specific sort of cadence when talking over the mic system? yeah, major john egan does that when giving orders over the intercom, draws out certain words and clips others, new york accent accentuated

[finnbbl]

Hyunjin X M! Reader - Dancer AU | SMAU | Chapter 5

Ch. 5 - I’m attractive? | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter I

I Story Masterlist I

Written: Yes

Smau: Yes

Word Count: 600

A/N: Apologies for such a short chapter. Better to split it up for the way this is going. I hope you’re enjoying it and would love feedback <3

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive comment ?

As the intercom started to ring, you and Hyunjin briefly glanced at each other. Throwing the other one a quick smile due to your playful banter, before turning your attention to the pilot over the speaker.

It wasn’t anything special or new, general statements that you and everyone else had heard a million times. The plane had finally landed, soon enough you were able file out of the airplane over to baggage claim. Your eyes glanced around at the scenery and different shops the Tokyo airport had to offer. You were in awh, and I guess it was pretty obvious because the familiar voice you only briefly heard earlier sounded behind you. “You ever been to Tokyo before?” Suddenly, there was a presence next to you. Turning your head, it was Hyunjin. Shaking your head, a thought had crossed your mind. “Look I have to ask uh..” Your feet brought you to a brief stop, Hyunjin only followed that. “Is it… okay for idols to be this close with backup dancers ?” One of your eyebrows perked i as you fidgeted. “I mean I don’t wanna get you in trouble-“

“Is this new to you?” His sudden question caused you to pull your head back in surprise and slight confusion. “No.. why would you think that? I’m only asking because it seems to be something I’m experiencing repetitively now..” Letting out a breathy sigh as you kicked at the air below you. The tall idol only laughed. “Actually it’s fairly normal. We always love interacting with our backup dancers.” He stated and shot you a smile. “Especially people like you.” Something about the way that he emphasized the last word and gently poked your shoulder sent your head spinning. You laughed nervously, “What is that supposed to mean?” Your head cocked to the side. He gave you a mischievous look before your conversation was interrupted. “Hey Hyunjin, stop flirting with the dancer and come get your luggage.” One of the other members of their group you knew as Lee Know, placed a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes as Minho left. “You’ll have to ignore him.” His head shook as he gestured for you to follow. “Come on, I’ll show you where we get our stuff.”

You were pretty hesitant to follow, something hadn’t felt right you just weren’t sure why. Hyunjin reassured you that it was completely normal and quite common for idols and dancers to be friends, so you decided to let it go and take his word for it. After all, you didn’t really know anyone or anything about Japan.

You noticed how the bodyguards surrounded the eight boys as they walked. There were also bodyguards around you and the few other dancers there were. Fans crowded around you guys as you made your way there. It was hard to imagine how it was like to constantly travel like this all the time. You thought you’d suffocate just in the short walk. Time passed, and you all eventually had your luggage. Everyone was led to a few different tour buses. The idols in one, and the dancers in another. However you had failed to notice that a certain someone was waving bye to you. As you made your way onto the bus, you felt watched. Not sure if it was your anxiety or if everyone was actually eyeing you. Either way, it made you nervous. Doing the best you could to suppress and block it out.You ended up choosing a seat in a completely empty aisle. If this is how it was gonna be the entire trip, boy were you in for it.

Taglist: @silverstarburst @virluna148 @galaxycatdrawz

[whereserpentswalk]

There's a city built in one of the largest mech graveyards. See, back when humans had the technology to build things like mechs, they got rid of decommissioned ones within these massive fields. Generations later people found one of those and used it for a settlement.

Most people don't really know what the history of the city is. But there are local legends about the buildings all being ancient metal warriors. And scholars have a better idea of the actual history of the city.

Mechs are quite useful for this type of thing. The have a good range of sizes, allowing the smaller ones to be single family homes, and the larger ones to act as skyscrapers. Nobody needs to build anything because the graveyard is far bigger than any city, they just expand by moving into new mechs. It's quite useful for keeping off ianvaders, it's hard to attack so much metal, and scary to anyone heading in. They were even some of the first to harvest old power sources using the cores of the old mechs.

It's odd to actually be there. To see that every building is what looks like a giant war machine. They don't even rust or anything. Looking up at the skyline, or down from a tall apartment, you can see so many powerful figures, so many ancient symbols and unknown stories, and all the many colors they're painted with. Just to know that everywhere the people of this city stand, the ancients stand too. Yet also how alien it is, how clear it is that nothing was built for what it's being used for, how strange to navigate things are, how mysterious the hallways and rooms of these great beings can be.

There's always something haunted about that city. They say that mech pilots in the old days weren't just driving their mechs, they were attached to them, that they were broken, and castrated, and driven mad but attaching themselves to the machines. And that because of that a little bit of their mind is always within the mechs.

There are always some mechs turned into buildings in that city that still move a little in od ways. Screens that will light up to cry for help. Fingers that will move as if they're trying to grab something. Songs or voices playing over old intercoms. Doors opening and shutting as if panicked. Some have even seen their heads turn in the night.

They tried to get one of the mechs to work again once, to defend the city. It didn't work well. It's not the same as getting an old computer or television to work. It was almost like it was alive, when they woke it up it seemed almost angry, and terrifying, like a dog wandering to find it's old master but hundreds of stories tall. It just wandered off somewhere, nobody knows where it went.

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-Chapter Twenty Nine Teaser PT. 2

I originally had no intention of posting another cover teaser for chapter twenty-nine but circumstances changed. So enjoy these covers and the snippet below the cut!

The plane was a sort of quiet business as everyone boarded into their respective seats while I sunk deeper into mine. I hid myself underneath the rim of my hat, hoping that even with the late-night flight no one would recognize me. I didn't need it to get out online where I was going or who I was going to see.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I reached for my phone in my side bag to double-check his text, making sure I had all the details right.

I didn't have a chance to talk more about this weekend away to Noah because of the fight we had right before.

"Angel," Noah sighed while resting his hands low on his hips, the white t-shirt clinging to his broad chest. "The way you're acting isn't fair to either of us. You're letting what happened weeks ago still effect you and taking your anger out on the people you love."

I sneered my distaste at how I had been lectured yet again and crossed my arms over my chest in defiance. The large kitchen island stood as a barrier between us and Jesse and Michael watched with careful eyes from the kitchen to make sure neither of us would jump over the counter at the other.

"I already told you, I'm fucking fine Noah. I don't need you pestering me and babying me. I'm a grown woman," I reminded him through clenched teeth.

The dark circles under his eyes told the story of a man who desperately wanted his girlfriend back. But I wasn't that person anymore; the shell of who I once was destroyed by my failures.

"Dr. Poulos said-," Noah began.

"Fuck that!" I spat while throwing my hands up in the air. "We both know its psychological bullshit shit. None of what she said mattered. I'm fine, I don't need help!"

Michael sucked in a breath and Jesse froze, afraid that I would turn my wrath onto him. Noah's voice called after me as I stormed past him, slamming and locking myself into our bedroom like I had done every day for the last few weeks.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will be taking off in a few minutes so if you haven't yet, please get settled in your seats. Beautiful Vermont is a few hours away," the pilot's voice came on through the intercom, causing me to shake away the memories of Noah and fasten my seat belt.

Placing both air pods in my ears, I ignored the four unread text messages as I pulled up Apple Music and selected nothing, nowhere. Joe's soft voice danced in my ears, lulling my head back against the seat, nearly falling to the familiar shoulder next to me.

"Your lips were cherry red."

[dat-town]

fight the hurricane

Characters: Sunwoo & female reader

Setting & genre: Pacific Rim au, action, angsty with hopeful ending

Summary: In the middle of a war against alien monsters, there was a war going on inside your mind and heart too, guilt and memories eating you away. Then comes a boy who doesn’t need to Drift with you to understand you completely.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, grief, survivor’s guilt, deceased parents, past minor character death, bleeding

Words: 10.1k

Author’s note: title is from Pacific Rim; “There are things you can't fight, acts of God. You see a hurricane coming, you have to get out of the way. But when you're in a Jaeger, suddenly, you can fight the hurricane. You can win.” if i had a nickel for every time i made Sunwoo the prodigy new guy in town i would have two nickels which isn’t a lot but it’s weird it happened twice.

happy name day @lily-blue <3

By your early twenties, you had been well accustomed with the feelings of loss, grief and guilt. But again, most people were in the world you lived in.

You had been 12 when the first monster came from the sea. You had seen it all over the tv and as a kid, it had seemed exciting like a Hollywood movie and you hadn’t taken it seriously. Even your parents had been doubtful it wasn’t just the media trick.

But more and more monsters had come from the depth of the Pacific Ocean, destroyed beach towns and killed its people. They had been named Kaiju (which meant ‘strange beast’ in Japanese as your father had explained), then the Pan Pacific Defence Corps had gotten established and the Jaeger program (meaning ‘hunter’ in German) had started. It had gotten too real too quick.

You had been 14 when you had first seen a Kaiju in real life. A single one was enough to pulp your hometown into the ground. You had been shivering the whole time you had seen it march through the island. Your first thought had been that it looked like a mix of a dinosaur and an alien and the second had been that you were going to die.

You hadn’t died that day but your parents had. It had been too late when their bodies had been found under the collapsed building of your home.

A month later you had moved into the Busan Jaeger Academy and a year later Jiwon had joined too. Back then you had no idea that she would be your other half. Best friends was too mundane of a word to describe your bond.

You had been 20 when she had died… no, not just died; when she had been killed. Died was such a passive word as if she wasn’t fighting until the last moment with the Category IV Kaiju by your side in Virtual Angel, your Jaeger. The truth was that you hadn’t just lost her. You had lost yourself too. You had trained together for five years and had been active Rangers for almost two years. Something like that cannot be erased merely by death, especially not with the neural link connection you had. You had shared memories, feelings and perspectives. Sometimes you still heard her voice in your head.

After you had gotten out of the hospital, you had been declared ‘mentally unable to return to piloting’ and been transferred from the Rangers to the LOCCENT. Maybe it had indeed been for the better. You weren’t sure you could have survived losing somebody close to you again.

“Category IV Kaiju alert! I repeat: Category IV Kaiju alert,” the intercom blared through the Busan Shatterdome just like it had done simultaneously in every other Shatterdome in the world when the PPDC issued a warning. “Goddess Mercy, report to standby. I repeat…”

The voice blurred in your mind as you hurried to put on your uniform and run to the Local Command Center. Research found that Kaiju arrivals were in a certain pattern, so your scientists always predicted the next attack’s time even if they were eventually hours off. It was better to be prepared for something than to not expect it at all or always be frenzy about it.

“Reporting to duty, sir,” you saluted when you arrived at the mission control unit. Marshall Lee Sangyeon nodded at you but kept his eyes on the big screen where the Kaiju tracking was displayed. You could see the vast red spot moving fast in the blueness of the ocean, heading towards Taiwan. You swore as you took your seat next to Changmin who was on standby duty all night in case something like this happened.

“What’s the strategy?” You asked as you pulled up the necessary maps and the information on the Kaiju that the PPDC sensors could tell such as size, toxicity, speed and such when they passed through the Breach, an interdimensional portal in the Pacific Ocean. It was useful to know what you were up against as well as for the headquarters to decide how many Jaegers they would send to neutralize the threat in the ocean before it could reach and attack land.

“Juyeon and Hyunjae are getting ready. Canada sends the Snow Leopard with Jacob and Kevin and Japan reported to dispatch Rogue Kitsune too,” Changmin told you as he checked on the engineering process on your side.

“It will be Fumiya’s first battle with his new co-pilot, right?” You hummed, briefly contemplating that it could be you as well if you were strong enough to go back after losing Jiwon. Before Changmin could have confirmed, your focus shifted to the LOCCENT’s huge window because on the other side, the giant metal mecha of Goddess Mercy was gearing up for battle.

“Ranger Lee is standing by,” you heard Hyunjae’s voice in your headset, echoed by Juyeon’s and you could see on the camera on your computer screen that both of them were already in their drivesuits, heading towards the Conn Pod, the currently detached cockpit of their Jaeger. Under them dozens of J-Tech engineers worked to make sure the Jaeger was in great condition to be exported and to fight.

In the meantime technicians helped the two pilots to get fully into gear and attached the spinal clamp needed for the neural transmission.

“Their life functions and vitals are okay,” you announced after scanning the results on your screen.

“Rangers, ready?” The Marshall asked which got immediate responses:

“Yes, sir!”

“Ready to kick some Kaiju ass,” Hyunjae grinned his signature smile.

“Neural handshake initiated,” Gahyeon stated a few seconds later and you could immediately see the spike in both Juyeon’s and Hyunjae’s heart rate as well as their brain receptors’ activity. They were a well synced pair, so by the time the Conn Pod was attached to the Jaeger’s mechanical brain, the technician also announced that the drift was successful.

“Goddess Mercy is ready to launch,” Juyeon said and the Jaeger moved its right hand as a proof. Soon eight V-50 Jumphawks airlifted the monstrous size of mecha and flew it towards the ocean to drop them near the vicinity of the Kaiju.

It might have been just the two of them out there putting their lives on the line along with the other Rangers, but every Kaiju battle was teamwork. Everybody in the Shatterdome watched the huge monitor displays and followed their movements over the map via GPS signs and drones sent with them. Your team in the control room was responsible for keeping an eye on the pilots’ health, the stability of their neural connection, the Jaeger’s condition, the Kaiju’s whereabouts and the battle’s surroundings. Admittedly you had only started to appreciate this side of the work after getting disqualified as a Ranger yourself and you didn’t mind that it was only the pilots and their Jaegers that were celebrated as heroes because every win was a victory for humanity no matter who took credit or not.

“Drop happening in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… release!” Changmin counted down and you saw the transporting aircrafts release the harnesses holding Goddess Mercy in air and the metal giant landed in the water with a big splash but safely.

“Kaiju incoming from northeast, estimated arrival in 56 seconds,” you recited the information based on the map and simulation calculations into the microphone. “Snow Leopard is already on the radar too. Rogue Kitsune just left the Tokyo base.”

“It’s going to be eas–” Hyunjae’s words got cut off when something moved in the dark waters around them and the next moment they were dragged underwater.

This Kaiju was not only big in size but it had 8 long snake-like tentacles curling around Goddess Mercy’s legs. The pilots were clearly taken aback by the unexpectedly quiet attack but they managed to overthrow the slippery looking monster, engaging in hands-on combat.

Due to the toxicity and radiation level of Kaijus, it was important to make sure they bleed the least because their blue fluids could make waters poisonous and kill wildlife, flora as well as people in contact. Old solutions such as dropping nuclear missiles on them had been deemed terrible choices too due to the destruction it caused nearby. Jaegers were people’s best hope.

Hyunjae and Juyeon were fighting the monster the best they could but with its many arms, they were mostly forced to protect themselves especially because the Kaiju seemed to attack their power cell on purpose. Unfortunately the K-scientists also predicted the growth of intelligence level in higher category Kaijus. They seemed to learn during their visits and they kept evolving.

It was a relief when Snow Leopard arrived and lured the alien giant away from Goddess Mercy. This way the two of them could charge at the Kaiju at once.

“Rangers, report! Are you okay?” Marshall Lee called out for your pilots and everybody waited for their answer with their breath held back. Based on their health measurements on your screen, their adrenaline levels went frenzy but they were otherwise okay. It was the Jaeger that had some red areas in their right shoulder on the heatmap.

“We are good. Mercy’s right arm has gone limp though,” came the answer and Hyunjae’s grunting about not underestimating these bastards again could be heard.

They tried to hit and punch the Kaiju for a while, circling around it but since its tentacles were longer than the Jaeger arms, it seemed like it was just playing with them. Then Goddess Mercy released its built-in sword from its operating arm and cut off one tentacle of the Kaiju. It seemed to simultaneously weaken and piss it off, so after the blade cut off another limb, the Kaiju pushed Snow Leopard away just enough to pay more attention to Goddess Mercy as it jumped upon its chest, making the mecha lose its footing and before they could push it off or the other Jaeger could pull it off, two of its remaining tentacles pierced through the Conn Pod’s glass windows, the Jaeger’s ‘eyes’ and two others attacked the energy center in its chest, the two weakest point of the metal monstrum. Then with a snapping sound, the Kaiju ripped the Conn Pod out of the Jaeger and sent the pilots flying.

You spoke up at the same time as Gahyeon, alarmed.

“Life functions are dropping low.”

“Connection from Rangers to Jaeger is lost.”

“Send an emergency team! Get them out of there!” The Marshall shouted while the Canadian Jaeger and the just arriving Japanese one successfully neutralized the Kaiju after cutting off all its extra limbs.

Still, with the victory celebrated, your breathing was still shaky as your memories of the emergency staff pulling you out of your drivesuit was too vivid. Jiwon’s fear before your connection was cut off was too much.

You didn’t even notice that you were trembling, just when Changmin put a warm hand over your back.

“It’s over,” he whispered and you forced yourself to nod.

It’s over. For now. Your gaze glided to the huge counter on the dome’s main hall showing the time since the last Kaiju arrival: 0 days, 0 hours, 47 minutes.

At this rate, who knows when the next one will come? When will it end?

With Juyeon and Hyunjae recovering in the hospital from both physical injuries and the mental stress of sudden neural link detachment, the Busan Shatterdome and its area was defenseless and depended on the help of others. The PPDC headquarters in Seoul decided that Jeju should send their cadets to Busan to test drift compatibility between the two Shatterdomes’ residents. Busan needed new co-pilots but the more, the merrier, so the decision was applauded on all fronts except the new dorm assignments among cadets. You didn’t mind sharing a room with two more girls, especially because this was a temporary situation until the eleven Jeju cadets stayed over. Other than the housing issues though, their arrival brought excitement too. It was rare when the Shatterdome got new cadets other than following the Jaeger Academy graduation, so everybody was gossiping about the new residents. They were welcomed with an informal dinner but the next day they were in the combat rooms for training already.

“Aren’t you coming? Eric will miss you,” Changmin teased when you were leaving the canteen but you just rolled your eyes at the mention of the other boy.

“He will survive,” you shrugged. “I have a night shift tonight, so I’m going to ditch that for a nap.”

Trainings at the dome were open to anybody either to watch or participate. Sometimes you joined in for old times sake and to get in your exercise amount for the day but without Jiwon it wasn’t the same. Sometimes you went to watch though, mostly to annoy Eric with your unasked advice. He wasn’t a bad fighter, just a bit reckless and impatient.

That day you were sure the combat room would be full of people because everybody would be curious to see if there were promising matches between two cadets that show innate synchronization, the kind that was needed so two minds could pilot the same Jaeger at the same time. However with Busan’s six cadets in training and the ones coming from Jeju, the number of combinations were high, so it would take days, especially if retired ex-Rangers would like to try again too. It wasn’t unheard of that a Ranger who had once lost their partner would find another to match with but you weren’t planning on going back to the field. Not necessary out of fear, more of guilt. It had been years and you still didn’t forgive yourself for what happened to Jiwon.

Changmin promised to inform you if anything interesting happened but then you parted ways, his leading towards the training halls and yours to the dorms. Right after Kaiju attacks, you slept better knowing that you should be safe for a while but when the next predicted date was nearing you always had trouble sleeping properly, so you wanted to make the most out of these chances not only for the night shift but also for your sake as well.

By the time you woke up and got ready for work, you had like a dozen of texts from Changmin including a picture of Eric wincing at the bruises he received thanks to a girl from Jeju. Served him right though. He always went easier on girls, which might have been gentlemanly on his part but it was just stupid in your opinion, maybe that’s why you never synced either.

When you got to the LOCCENT room, Younghoon was already there.

“Hey, is there anything?”

“Nothing luckily,” he turned towards you with a greeting nod which you reciprocated.

You glanced at the giant counter that showed that it had been almost 6 days since the last attack. The K-scientists predicted at least 12-14 more before the next one based on the recent pattern but you could never know, that’s why shifts and keeping an eye out on the sensors and tectonic movements was important.

“How are Hyunjae and Juyeon?” you asked as you took a seat and signed in to your computer. Younghoon was close with the two boys since they had all grown up together but he hadn’t had a shift when his friends had gotten injured, so it must have felt terrible to just watch it from the sidelines. Not that he could have done anything from the control room. Ranger life was unpredictable like this.

“They are getting better. It will take a while for Juyeon’s broken arm to heal and both of them are still experiencing migraines because of the neural disconnection. It could have been a lot worse,” the boy noted and you knew that he was right. Some Rangers had permanent brain damage after something went wrong during Drift. That’s also why two pilots were needed to control a Jaeger, it would have been too much on one single individual.

“That’s good,” you let a small, reassuring smile paint your lips because their health mattered more than anything. But you couldn’t help but ask, your past self’s guilt towards Jiwon, the Shatterdome, the purpose of the program, sweeping into your bones. “Did they say anything about staying as Rangers?”

Younghoon looked at you with knowing eyes, like he knew exactly why you were asking. He was already at LOCCENT when you were assigned this new job after being discharged from the hospital.

“No. Maybe they are waiting for the official evaluation,” he said and you nodded. Honestly, it was hard to imagine Busan’s best duo as anything other than Rangers but then again, once you couldn’t imagine your life differently either. You had thought you would either spend your life fighting with Kaijus until humanity won or die in a Jaeger. Surviving alone had never been an option. Until it was.

On quiet nights like this when there was a low chance for a Kaiju attack, your work wasn’t particularly interesting. You recorded some info about the Pacific Ocean, the sensors’ data and created a report to submit but otherwise you were mostly reading or talking with Younghoon about Shatterdome and PPDC gossip. By the time the next shift arrived at 6AM to take over you got to know all the exciting details of the training day with the Jeju cadets.

You liked early mornings like this because everything was quiet and calm. In a few hours J-technicians would be busy running around fixing up Jaegers and building new ones, K-scientists would yell about the newest discoveries and Ranger-to-bes would compete over who could get to the combat room or the canteen the fastest. No need to get you wrong, you loved the lively atmosphere of the Shatterdome, you loved feeling the purpose that bound all of you together, the comradeship but there was something in the serenity at dawn that could finally placate your messy mind.

You walked up on the metal stairs over the hangar, right until the catwalk that led over to the other side of the building. You loved this one the most, not only because it was the highest point somebody could get without being in a mecha’s cockpit but if you sat down in the middle of it, you could face the patched up version of Virtual Angel. Your former Jaeger.

You had gained the habit of coming out here to face the elegant metal body of the weapon that once had been partly yours after what had happened with your co-pilot. The three of you, the Jaeger, Jiwon and you had shared something special. You had neutralized enough Kaijus to make any parent proud but not enough, never enough, and while you could have never made yourself pilot Virtual Angel again, she deserved to be in the spotlight again, to fight more. You hoped she would have the chance.

So early in the morning the place was always empty but not this time. You faltered when you saw a stranger sitting in your usual place, staring ahead, at the lined up Jaegers in the hangar as if he was pondering about something. He must have been deep in thought because he didn’t seem to notice your approach until you were only a few steps away from him. When he did though, he looked up at you with eyes widened in surprise.

“That’s my place,” you told him without greeting. The boy your age looked confused for a moment as he looked at the metal structure holding both of your weight about 75 meters over the ground.

“I didn’t see your name here,” he looked back at you with a tilt of his plush lips and you raised a brow, watching him do the same, his brown hair falling into his likewise dark eyes in soft waves. He wore the Jeju cadets’ uniform, same as your formal one but with a different symbol over the heart. But it was too early for even the cadets to be up.

“You don’t even know my name,” you retorted, which made the boy tilt his head in a mischievous way.

“Are you sure about that?” He questioned because he added. “Or maybe it’s my way of asking.”

“Funny, aren’t you?” You let out a little huff of laughter at that and then slid down onto the catwork and sat down next to the boy, a good arm length away, hanging your legs down, leaning against the railing. After spending years looking down from this height through the Conn Pod of Virtual Angel, you weren’t afraid of heights anymore nor the idea of falling scared you. You couldn’t be sure about the side of your unexpected companion though.

“Can’t sleep?” You found yourself asking but you didn’t look at the boy. You kept your eyes on the silver and baby blue paint over the copper Jaeger.

The cadet hummed, confirming but not elaborating. You didn’t expect it, you were strangers after all even if you were fighting the same war. You just sat down quietly for a while, not in awkward but more of a comforting silence, just the type you particularly liked on mornings like this.

“She’s beautiful,” the guy spoke up a bit later when the Sun was already up over the horizon, painting orange hues over the glass dome above your head, casting bright light over the three mechas. At first, you were confused who was the she he talked about but then you saw that he was looking at Virtual Angel too and you couldn’t help an albeit small but genuine smile.

“She really is, huh?” You agreed, feeling warmth in your chest like when somebody complimented something you could be proud of.

“I’m Sunwoo by the way.”

You turned your head to face the guy, wondering what kind of stories he could hide behind that smile of his, what kind of dreams or fears could drive him here, 75 meters high at the crack of dawn.

“I’m Y/N,” you reciprocated the introduction, forgetting about his previously mentioned intentions.

“I know,” Sunwoo nodded with a secretive smile but then he bobbed his head towards Virtual Angel. “She’s yours.”

Ah, so he really knew who you were. You weren’t sure how to feel about that.

“She was,” you corrected him, which was followed by a beat of silence.

“Aren’t you going back out there?” He asked and it seemed more genuinely curious than blaming. Some people in his shoes would have called you a coward or weak, some people would have done anything to find a partner to pilot a Jaeger together and fight but you weren’t even trying anymore.

“No, I’m not,” you confirmed, picking your nails and you weren’t sure what you expected in response. Pity? Anger? You certainly didn’t expect the boy to get playful.

“Then if I manage to sync up with somebody, can I take her out for a ride?” He raised an eyebrow and the way he phrased it made you flabbergasted.

“Are you asking for my permission?” You chuckled because it was ridiculous. PPDC owned the Jaeger, they had every right to give it to anybody who was suitable. She wasn’t really yours to begin with. But Sunwoo didn’t seem to relent. “Okay, fine. If you are cleared to pilot, kill some more Kaijus with her.”

“It would be an honor,” the guy grinned, a gummy smile showing and you weren’t sure what it was about him and his cockiness but you found yourself rooting for this random stranger to get the green light. Scientifically there was a chance of 1 to 25 that somebody would complete a successful drift without extensive training together but maybe he would be the lucky one.

Speaking of training, Sunwoo’s smartwatch pinged with a notification and he looked apologetic as he stood up.

“Gotta go for my morning run,” he excused himself and you just nodded, planning to head towards the canteen for breakfast soon anyways. You waved him off, ignoring his sly smile. You turned back to Virtual Angel, mentally warning her not to get her hopes up as if the giant mecha could have feelings on its own. It was all just in your mind.

The rest of the day passed in a blur like it often did when you had a night shift. You ate breakfast with a few early birds then went to sleep off your tiredness. At lunch you were sitting with Haknyeon from J-Tech and Chanhee from the K-science Lab when Eric slid to your table. He already wore his clothes for training, a tight fitting tee and shorts, his blonde hair flopping onto his forehead, his smile contagious.

“Are you free this afternoon?” He asked, looking at you intently.

“Hello to you too,” Chanhee muttered from the excited boy’s side, continuing to eat his dumplings the same as before, unfazed by Eric’s one track mind.

“Depends. Why?” You asked but just to be difficult, just to hear him ask you. It was just harmless teasing. You knew exactly what he wanted. You had been friends since the Jaeger Academy. If it wasn’t for Jiwon, he probably would have counted as your best friend. Even if you both had changed since then.

“We’re doing the second rounds of trainings with the new kids. I got assigned with the dude who beat everybody yesterday. Apparently he was also on the top of his classes back in Jeju too,” he chattered which made Haknyeon next to you snort.

“What kind of flowers would you like at your funeral then?” He joked which earned him a scowl but you knew Eric didn’t take it seriously either, not with that pout he looked at you.

“Please, I need you as emotional support,” he said then quietly added: “And your expertise.”

Back at school and even later at Ranger training like this you were the best strategist of your class. You might not have been the strongest but you were smart and hardworking. While the goal of these training sessions was to learn about combat skills and how to move and work together well, eventually when it came to fights, there was rarely not a winner. But even with hits and kicks delivered it was always obvious when two people just balanced each other out. It was something either innate or integrated over years, you couldn’t help Eric with that. What you could help though was analyzing this other guy’s fighting skill with other people to advise Eric about how to counterattack.

“I heard that he’s getting desperate. He hasn’t matched with anybody since he was sixteen,” Chanhee spoke up and while he himself sounded disinterested every head turned towards him at his claim.

“How do you even know that?”

“Just because I don’t talk a lot, it doesn’t mean I’m not listening to what’s going on around me,” the scientist assistant rolled his eyes at all the surprise his claim received.

You hummed, not promising Eric anything, just shoved a dumpling into his mouth, but you were certainly intrigued. You were curious how would somebody like that fight in the ring, whether he was calm because he had been doing this a thousand times already or would he be on edge, trying to prove himself every time he set a foot on the tatami. You were actually curious about it now.

So without much more pestering, you found yourself in the Kwoon combat room with Changmin and Chaewon by your side. The pairs and the match order was randomized but Eric told you that the guy would be in the third round with Beomgyu and their own match would be the seventh. Matches could last from a few minutes up to an hour maximum (stopped by the referee) and while it often ended in about fifteen to twenty minutes, the best balanced pairs could go on and on for long with close scores.  You and Jiwon preferred Muay Thai, with her it felt like a dance you both knew the steps to.

The first two pairs weren’t really interesting, they were very off-balanced too, ending in less than five minutes but you could tell everybody was excited to see the infamous new guy who apparently hadn’t lost yesterday because whispers started the moment your Navy soldier-turned-trainer announced the next match.

You knew Beomgyu, so your gaze immediately cut to the other side of the painted square, breath hitching when you saw the guy from dawn. His name echoed off the walls now that you recognized him. Unlike the morning where he was in his proper uniform, now he wore gray joggers and a black tank top, loose over his frame, his sun kissed skin glinting under the yellow light of the room.

You cleared your throat and forced yourself to focus on the match in a professional manner, since that was why you were there after all. To help Eric like a good friend would, not to drool over a guy’s biceps after a single encounter. But honestly, Sunwoo’s good looks were soon forgotten because the moment the fight started, you could tell why he made a name for himself. He moved like a predator inside that square and Beomgyu didn’t stand a chance.

“So? What do you think?” Eric nudged your shoulder, excitement and nervousness mixing in his hushed voice.

“His fighting style is similar to yours,” you responded without thinking, craning your neck to lean closer, to see better as Sunwoo cornered Beomgyu, his stick stopping just below the other’s chin, earning him another point.

“What? No! He is so… aggressive,” Eric laughed but the sound was off, a bit worried as if he was wondering if he looked aggressive too then. You shook your head.

“No, he’s just confident and being a bit cocky about it,” you corrected him because actually Sunwoo’s movements were rather elegant and calculating, he was just fast like a cheetah when he needed to attack. He acted all aloof and cool while they circled around each other and then striked in the right moment, when the enemy’s attention momentarily wavered to find a spot on him. “He knows he’s better. He knew it from the moment Beomgyu waited for him to attack first and he was obvious about it. You’re the same but not in the same way. You get bored easily when you think you could win easily, that’s why you are gentler with girls, which is still annoying by the way, and get playful with the guys, which must be equally annoying too because you take something half-assedly that they have to work so much for.”

“Okay, that’s uhm… interesting. But then how do I win?” Eric still seemed taken aback by your analysis but he seemed focused on showing his true colors now that he was up against somebody on his level. You gave it a thought because you could easily see the two of them provoke each other endlessly as well as always gaining points during counterattack, so there was really only one option.

“You have to attack first and get the first point,” you told him straightforwardly and Eric took it as a challenge.

Beomgyu lost and the next few matches didn’t last too long either. Minjeong and Mia seemed promising enough for the referee to sign them up for a test Drift which earned them a cheer but it wasn’t something to get anybody’s hopes up.

“Break a leg,” Changmin patted Eric’s back when his name was called and at the younger guy’s grin, you frowned.

“Please, don’t,” you sighed and watched him make his way towards the ring just for your eyes to meet Sunwoo’s. There was a hint of mischievousness in his as he saluted towards you but then he schooled his expressions when they were finally face-to-face with the blonde boy.

They bowed towards each other and then it started. They just stared each other off for a long enough moment for you to start wondering whether Eric wouldn’t take your advice but then he charged at the other so suddenly that even though Sunwoo could duck away from his first hit, the second got him on the side. Shocked gasps and loud cheers erupted in the room. After all, Eric was the local boy and he just took the first hit on the undefeated Jeju cadet.

In that moment, you saw Sunwoo’s entire posture change, his eyes getting darker and more focused, his grip on the stick firmer. Within three steps and a combination of hits, he managed to level out. You were right: they were similar. In their own way they approached the fight the same way and others started to notice it too. Excited whispers and claps for every hit echoed in the room the more it went on. Their points were neck-to-neck just like you guessed it would be and it was thrilling really to see this kind of balance between strangers. It felt like witnessing something special.

And you weren’t the only one who thought that.

“Cadet Sohn and Cadet Kim, please follow me to my office,” the Marshall spoke up and the entire room full of people turned towards him standing in the door with the usually stern look on his face. The sweaty and panting boys exchanged a glance before handing the sticks back to the ex-Navy soldier and broke through the crowd around them, accepting the congratulatory pats on the shoulder as if they felt it too. Their connection.

They had to be Drift compatible. They were your best hope now.

Eric was buzzing with excitement later that night. They were going to have an official test Drift the next day which was a big thing, so you made sure to congratulate him before going to the hangar instead of the female dorms. Having slept in the morning you weren’t sleepy yet. So you did what you usually did when that happened, not too surprised that you found Sunwoo swinging his legs from 75 meters high this time too.

“Trying to get on her good side already?” You teased, referring to Virtual Angel which managed to make the guy let out a raspy laughter.

“I told you I would steal her from you,” he grinned and patted the floor next to him like he owned the place. It made you scoff out loud but you sat down anyways.

Both of you were quiet for a while but then he asked you about the Drift, about how it was to pilot a Jaeger, how it was out on the field. Sure, he had done countless simulations, keeping the highest score back in the Jeju Shatterdome but it wasn’t the real thing, you both knew. So you decided to tell him the truth about how vulnerable the Drift felt, revealing so many parts of you for another person, sharing so much but it was mutual and when you get to know the other person, it was like having a soulmate. Before your voice could have cracked though from talking about Jiwon, you changed topic and recited what you remembered from your first Kaiju battle. You had rather told him about the highs of Virtual Angel’s Jaeger duties than the time when it had been reduced to a mess of metal and you couldn’t make yourself look at it.

In exchange you asked Sunwoo about how he felt about the Drift, whether he was nervous but you didn’t really expect him to admit it. But as it turned out he’d had two unsuccessful neural linking already. Those times he had been hopeful, so now he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Not after spending years working on getting better and better only to not be good enough. No high score or Academy result would mean anything to him if he couldn’t make it to the frontline of the war.

You told him that he would make it and the next day you were there assisting with their Drift compatibility test which resulted in 92%. From that day they were officially Rangers on duty.

The next Kaiju attack was predicted to be in about 10 days, so Sunwoo and Eric had gotten themselves into intensive training before their first battle. Not only did they have long hours of combat practice everyday, they were quizzed on Kaiju weaknesses constantly and were assigned as roommates to bond. It must have been working because whenever you had a meal with them in the canteen, they seemed as if they had been friends for ages.

You still hung out with Sunwoo on the hangar’s catwalks, talking about how your lives had been before and what would you do if humanity wasn’t constantly threatened to get wiped out by an alien race. Sometimes when he looked at you with eyes dark and curious you could tell he wanted to ask something else too but he never did and you didn’t push, he must have had his reasons and you didn’t particularly want to talk about how it felt to lose your co-pilot which you guessed as one of those unasked questions. Sometimes you helped him train too and while you got rusty so he was clearly better, it was fun and it had been a while since you found anything about being a Ranger fun. Him not going easy on you and smiling like the Sun on its brightest days helped too.

After Sunwoo put in his official request to be assigned for Virtual Angel out of the unused Jaegers, Eric came to you asking if you were alright with that. You told him that you were more than okay with it because the Jaeger deserved one more chance and gave him tips about controlling it. He listened attentively but his mind must have been elsewhere because right after he blurted out:

“What’s up with you and Sunwoo? You spend a lot of time together,” he hummed, looking at you with half worry and half something else you couldn’t name.

“Shouldn’t you know the answer to that?” You asked challengingly because Drifting with somebody meant opening your mind to them and even unintentionally you could catch a glimpse of the other’s some recent or most significant memories.

“I would prefer it if you told me. We are old friends, aren’t we?”

Well, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t sure what to tell him, so you shrugged.

“There’s nothing going on. He just… makes me feel normal again,” you admitted and you could see that Eric wanted to protest but bit his lip. It wasn’t you faulting him or your other friends because they had seen you at your worst, so not bringing up Jiwon or how it was to be a Ranger but not anymore was their way of being considerate. You knew it wasn’t out of pity but still, they treated you differently from before and it made you feel broken. Sunwoo hadn’t been there, hadn’t known you before, so it must have been why but he didn’t tiptoe around you like the others did and yeah, that felt good. It felt like you were finally more than the ghost of your past self. Next to him, you felt alive, not just surviving.

You weren’t on call when the Category III Kaiju came from the Breach a week later. You wished you were because this way you could only watch through the huge TV screens in the dorm as Virtual Angel ascended from its place after the neural link connection was successfully established between the mecha and its new pilots. Everybody was watching the broadcasted event with their breaths held back. People were invested usually too but it was even more apparent when it was with new Rangers. Hong Kong sent veterans, Yangyang and Renjun who had been in the business for years but if you didn’t know any better, Sunwoo and Eric could have fooled you that they had done this together before too and not just in simulations.

Later Changmin told you that they were a bit worried at first because shortly after the connection was made it seemed like Sunwoo would ‘chase a rabbit’ which was a phrase used for the event of a pilot getting lost in a memory, either their own or the other’s, too much and lost touch with reality followed by a Random Access Brain Impulse Trigger (aka R.A.B.I.T). It sometimes happened with new pilots, especially under stressful situations, but it was a good thing that Sunwoo managed to handle it before it could have gotten in the way of the battle. Yet, it made you wonder what kind of memory did he latch onto enough to hesitate. Once you had gotten stuck in there, in your mind, you had been 14 again and helpless, you had just wanted to see your parents’ face one more time. The Neural Handshake had failed then and you had recurring nightmares after that. You hoped it wasn’t like that for the boy.

When the newly celebrated heroes made it back to the base after neutralizing the Kaiju, the first thing Eric did was to envelop you in a bone-crushing hug. You closed your eyes, chuckled and congratulated him. Over his shoulder you saw Sunwoo who eyed the two of you a bit hesitantly and while you didn’t expect him to be as affectionate as the blond guy, you thought he would at least high five you but instead he just walked past you as if you were strangers.

It was the first time it happened but it wasn’t the last.

It got weird quickly. You didn’t even notice how much you got used to Sunwoo’s presence and your in dim light talks in the hangar so quickly but the difference was now striking. You never accidentally bumped into him, he was too busy to train with you and always ate together with others. You never got the chance to ask what you had done that made him avoid you.

“Are you listening?” Haknyeon waved his hand in front of your face but before he could have followed your gaze to Sunwoo with that girl from Jeju who also stayed to train with one of your own in case they could be more compatible later, you snapped your focus back on him.

“Yeah. You were saying something about a remote access Conn Pod?” You furrowed your brows, trying to make it seem like you weren’t distracted.

“Exactly. This would mean Jaegers could be piloted from here instead of risking the pilots’ life more than necessary out there. We will start testing it soon,” the J-technician guy said excitedly and any other time it would have made you more invested because if this technology had existed when Jiwon… You shook your head to not think about her and the what ifs.

“That’s cool,” you muttered, shoving the rest of the breakfast into your mouth, tearing your gaze off Sunwoo.

You couldn’t help feeling confused and maybe a bit angry too because you didn’t do anything that could have warranted the boy to act so distant. If you didn’t know better you would have thought that he acted that way because suddenly they were in the center of attention with Eric and suddenly he was too busy and popular to hang out with you but it wasn’t the kind of behavior you would have associated with him. You could have asked Eric but you would have moved to a different country sooner than giving him the chance to tease you about your ‘boy problems’.

Despite Sunwoo’s best efforts to avoid you, you saw him constantly. The Shatterdome was not that big, but maybe it was even worse because this way you saw his gaze linger on you just for a moment before snapping his gaze away, acting like he didn’t see you.  Eventually it was Eric who came to you asking if you rejected Sunwoo or something and that was why he always opted out of meals together. You snorted. At least then you would know why he was like this.

Well into a week of this weird thing going on, you bumped into Sunwoo just after he seemingly finished training. You were on your way to the canteen, passing by the Kwoon combat room when he stepped out, his hair slightly damp and sweat glistening on his bare arms. He slowed down in his steps, your presence clearly taking him aback. Then he quickly ducked his head and passed by you, heading towards the changing rooms. It boiled your blood more than you cared to admit and you couldn’t take it anymore, so you decided to bite the bullet.

“Why are you avoiding me?” You span around your axis, turning after the guy’s leaving figure, successfully halting him on the way.

“I’m not–” Sunwoo’s protest died on the tip of his tongue when he saw your cutting gaze. He averted his eyes and gulped, nervousness showing. You didn’t understand anything, but when Sunwoo spoke up, his answer didn’t make any sense either.

“I don’t want to make things awkward between you and Eric,” he said and you furrowed your brows in confusion. Why would it have changed anything?

“What does it have to do with Eric?” You asked, frustrated because this was the most ridiculous explanation ever. Sure, they might have been co-pilots and you and Eric were friends but…

It hadn’t always been like that.

Under Sunwoo’s meaningful stare, you felt the need to slap yourself but you just ended up laughing. Oh god, you couldn’t believe that you were wondering about why he hated you when it was probably the opposite. The relief was instant.

“Oh please, are you jealous?” You teased, thinking back on the way Eric had hugged you all friendly and before Sunwoo could have protested, you needed ro clarify. “I don’t know what you saw in Eric’s memories but we dated for like two weeks when we were sixteen and that’s it. We’re better off as friends.”

“Oh,” the boy mumbled and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, oh. So? Are we good?”

His reaction was enough confirmation that he saw something in Eric’s mind about you. Whether it was something like your first chaste kiss or just the boy asking you out, he might have misunderstood it, both how old the memory was or the feeling revolving around it. You knew from experience that it wasn’t easy to not get swept up in memories during the Drift especially if you didn’t know the other very well already. It could be a disorienting and confusing experience, so you didn’t blame Sunwoo for misunderstanding and wanting to be a good bro or whatever. You were a bit pissed at him only for not talking about it with you. You weren’t petty enough to whine about it though.

“Yeah, we… it’s good,” Sunwoo mumbled, embarrassment coloring his cheeks a brighter color which would have been kinda cute if he wasn’t so stupid.

“Good,” you muttered and turned your back on him, continuing your walk to the canteen. Fifteen minutes later Sunwoo showed up too, sitting down at your table, earning a gawking eye from Eric. You pushed a corndog into his mouth to shut him up.

Sunwoo’s and Eric’s next drop in a battle went smoothly as well. Hyunjae started to joke that they finally had some healthy competition at the dome which might have been true as he and Juyeon started the rehabilitation to go back out there. Virtual Angel shone thanks to the guys just like in her best days and it was a nice thing to see. Of course, you were worried about both boys because you knew better than anyone how fast and drastically things could go wrong but you also remembered the proud feeling that came with fighting for people’s lives and you would have never taken that away from them, especially not since you knew how long both of them had been waiting for this.

When it came to Sunwoo and you, things were back on the old track. You didn’t bring up the jealousy or whatever thing and he didn’t explain it either. A part of you thought, maybe even hoped that he would but you didn’t want to be pushy. He had a lot on his plate with the new Ranger responsibilities and getting used to living in the Busan Shatterdome after spending half his life in the Jeju one. You were content with just having him back as somebody you could talk through dawns over the catwalks.

It was one of those days, the quiet, anticipating ones. You were swinging your legs slowly, leaning against the handrails, chin over your arms, watching Sunwoo’s side profile and the way his fringe hung over his eyes.

“You know,” the boy spoke up slowly, his raspy voice vibrating in the air. “Sometimes it feels like she remembers you.”

He pointed at the Jaeger wistfully and you couldn’t help a small smile. The mecha was nothing but wires and metal, technically it didn’t have any feelings or memories. Still, you didn’t make a joke out of Sunwoo’s sentimentality.

“Yeah? How so?” You raised a brow instead, curious.

“I don’t know. It’s just… it feels like I have known you for so long,” he said and while it echoed how you felt, so you doubted it was the Jaeger’s doing, you couldn’t help but tease.

“That might be because of Eric,” you snorted, teasing and Sunwoo let out an exasperated sigh.

“You won’t let that go, will you?”

“Nope, not a chance,” you chuckled, watching a hint of crimson make its way onto the boy’s cheeks. He was usually so self-assured, dropping teasing smiles and comments that could have made you flustered if you weren’t expecting it, so it was rare to see him this shy.

“Will you tell me? What you saw when you almost went chasing that rabbit?” You asked, quieter, curious. It might not have been you, it might have been one of his own memories that had made him hesitate but with the way his attitude took a 180 degrees turn after that, you ought to think it was something involving you and seeing Sunwoo’s reaction you must have been right. He scratched the back of his neck and hummed.

“I saw you in the hospital after… your accident,” he answered slowly and you could only guess what exactly he could have seen: you on a hospital bed on machines with three broken ribs and internal bleeding. You had been passed out for a long time but according to Changmin, Eric had been by your side whenever he could be. “I was… khm, I mean, Eric was worried about you. It hurt seeing you like that. And then when we came back and I saw him hugging you first thing, I knew that you shared something special. I also wasn’t sure whether I was confusing Eric’s feelings with mine after sharing a neural connection with him so often lately.”

You knew that it could be confusing. Drifts had after-effects, some part of the other always stayed with you even after getting disconnected. Jiwon was still scolding you in your head when you ate too much instant ramen.

“And? Are you sure now?” You tilted your head.

Sunwoo grinned and leaned closer, balancing his weight over an arm sliding next to your hip.

“Ever since you called me out on my bullshit,” he confirmed and you let out a chuckle, ready to tease him about being jealous again but he was too close, you could see the light of the sunrise reflect in his orbs and the way his gaze dropped to you agape mouth, on point but patient.

You closed your eyes and smiled, meeting him in the middle when an alarm blared across the Shatterdome.

“Category IV Kaiju alert! I repeat: Category IV Kaiju alert,” Younghoon’s tense voice echoed in the wide space and you were on your feet before he could have continued. “Virtual Angel, report to standby.”

Sunwoo got up lightning fast too and there was a split moment of realization that you were about to go your separate ways, him to the Conn Pod and you to the LOCCENT as part of your on-call duty.

“See you later,” you said, promised, before turning your back on him and rushing down the corridor towards the control center.

You joined the others, setting up your computer while Jeongeun was debriefing you. The Kaiju was big and had spikes on its back, heading towards Osaka. You planted its current coordinates and possible routes into the system, watching as Sunwoo and Eric left the Drivesuit room and took their places in the Conn Pod. Spinal clamps attached, both Rangers nodding towards the LOCCENT, it was time to initiate neural interface Drift.

“Vitals are okay,” you reported and waited impatiently for the neural handshake to happen. But for some reason it took a longer time than usual.

“Pilot to Jaeger connection complete,” Younghoon finally said with a relieved sigh.

While you were waiting for the transport aircrafts to drop Virtual Angel in the middle of the ocean, you checked in with other Shatterdomes. Sydney was sending a duo but it would take them some more time to get there while Tokyo wasn’t answering.  Thinking of the guys going against a Category IV Kaiju alone sent unpleasant shivers down your spine, so you prayed that it was just a communication issue with the Japanese HQ and they were already on their way.

“It’s moving faster than we predicted. At this rate, it will reach the Osaka Wall in ten minutes,” you said out loud after seeing the new calculations on your screen.

“How much longer is it for Virtual Angel?” Marshall Lee asked, concerned as well.

“At least twenty minutes, sir.”

The Marshall nodded and dialed PPDC’s evacuation team with the news of the dangers regarding Osaka Bay.

It was nerve wracking to say the least. By the time the drop happened, the Kaiju was already tearing off the Anti-Kaiju Wall that was pulled up in recent years. So close to the shore, Sunwoo and Eric couldn’t even use the built-in kinetic weapons in fear of making the wall collapse. Neutralizing the monster right there would have poisoned the beaches for weeks too but there didn’t seem to be any other choice. The Kaiju was stubborn and didn’t try to follow the mecha no matter how Eric tried to gain its attention.

You watched as they approached the Kaiju, ready to strike, to punch, the first hit seemed to piss it off and the two huge beings, one alien and one human-made, wrestled in the shallow water near the bay, trying to get a grip on each other.

“Where the hell are the others?” the Marshall stood behind you to check on the communication.

“It’s at least 30 more minutes for Summer Storm and still no news from Tokyo,” Jeungeun said with a strain in her voice too.

“Damnit,” Marshall Lee cursed under his nose and you could wholeheartedly agree.

Your fingers trembled over your keyboard, a hiss unintentionally leaving your mouth when Virtual Angel got thrown on its back. They managed to roll away before the Kaiju could have trampled upon them and they even managed to wound it  across its right leg but they struggled to gain momentum.

It felt like hours, how long the battle was going on and you were too numb by the time Jeungeun gasped in shock when one of the Kaiju’s spikes pierced through the mecha and pushed it up against the Wall. The red alert appeared on your screen at the same time you heard Sunwoo’s panicked voice in your headset.

“Eric!?”

Neural link incomplete. Drift unstable.

You saw it bright and clear and you knew what it meant. Eric lost consciousness and disconnected from the Jaeger but Sunwoo was still there, still controlling this giant metal weapon, still in danger of getting sliced through by the Kaiju. It was crazy, he could die. Simply by piloting alone because that can overload one single person’s mind. There was a reason why at least two people could or should have piloted.

“Ranger Kim, report. What are your conditions?”

“Eric fainted, sir. He got hit on the side and he’s bleeding but still breathing,” the guy answered and in a way it was a relief that Eric wasn’t already dead but with the Kaiju tossing Virtual Angel around, there was no time to be relieved.

“And you?”

“I… I’m fine, sir. But I can’t feel the left side of the Jaeger, it’s like deadweight,” he said but his bodily functions were going haywire. His brain was definitely getting too much stimuli.

“Stop trying to control it, you will kill yourself,” you found yourself scolding him despite knowing that in his place you would have tried too. Because…

“A lot more people will die if I don’t try,” Sunwoo said, serious, and with the Sydney team still away, Shanghai just dispatching a Jaeger, you knew what he meant. He just needed to hold the Kaiju back until the others arrived, until he could.

You didn’t even think. You stood up abruptly and looked at Marshall Lee.

“Is the remote access Conn Pod under testing?” You asked, your conversation with Haknyeon ringing in your ears.

The superior in front of you looked confused only for a moment but then he seemed to understand what you wanted.

“Yes but it hasn’t been tested with an already connected Jaeger before, definitely not from miles away. You could die if something goes wrong,” he said and you could hear the others’ whispers, not understanding a bit.

“And if we don’t do something they both might die,” you pointed at the screen, the Kaiju trying to tear off the mecha’s arm and Sunwoo’s vitals going crazy. “I don’t want to see anyone else dying if I can do something about it and I know their Jaeger. She was mine once. I can do it.”

Lee Sangyeon looked you in the eye for a long moment and you remembered how his gaze softened when he had told you he was glad you survived. That had made you cry even harder because in that moment you hadn’t been glad that you had made it out alive. He had seen you going through it, he had seen you avoiding the hangar, detaching yourself from Ranger activities one by one. And now you were asking to go back, to Drift, to fight in an unfair battle. He knew what it must have taken you.

“Cleared. We need people from J-Tech and prepare for a new Drift,” the Marshall told Younghoon and the others but you were already running to the tech labs.

Haknyeon was muttering under his nose about you being insane as he helped you put on the drivesuit and accompanied you to the remote access Conn Pod, somebody else already hooking up Virtual Angel’s coordinates and data. There was no time to waste. 

“Neural handshake initiated,” you heard somebody say and you could feel the familiar cold feeling along your spine and the start of a throbbing migraine.

“Come on, Angel. You know me. We have done this dozen times before,” you mumbled under your nose, closing your eyes and clearing your mind.

Memories flashed in front of you. Your hometown in ruins. Jiwon’s last smile at you. Blood on your hands. Sunwoo over the catwalk. Sunwoo’s smirk on the tatami. Sunwoo’s eyelashes up close.

The headache stopped.

“You are crazy,” you heard Sunwoo’s voice in your head as clear as if he was standing right next to you. You opened your eyes and you weren’t in the laboratory anymore. You weren’t even in the Shatterdome. You saw the ocean through the eyes of Virtual Angel and when you turned to your right, you saw Sunwoo looking at you in disbelief. Realistically speaking you knew that you weren’t physically there, just in your minds and yet, it felt so real. “I thought you said you won’t be doing this again.”

“I thought so too,” you admitted, giddy that it worked against all odds.

“Drift successful,” you heard somebody exclaim and you felt yourself (the Jaeger) stumble which brought you back to reality.

“I guess we are compatible,” Sunwoo said with a smirk playing on the unfair tilt of his mouth and together, you managed to make the mecha stand up and avoid the Kaiju’s next hit.

“You talk too much. Let’s kill this ugliness first,” you said but there was a hint of a smile in the corner of your mouth too.

Despite everything, it felt good to be back. It felt like something Jiwon and Virtual Angel both would have wanted you to do. You could also almost hear Eric’s chatter in your ears, complaining about missing your big comeback but he will remember, he will get the memories from his co-pilot anyways. And Sunwoo, he was right there beside you. It felt right. It felt just like a Hong Kongese Ranger once said: like you could fight the hurricane and win.

[pianocat939]

Yandere plane company, you just chillin in your seat and then out of the blue all the flight attendants start to gift you chocolate and bouquets and gifts... because its valentine day~

I'm still sickly, but I am here for Yan plane companies again-

Tw: None honestly. Just like company breaking its own policies lol

You're on your flight to go see your long-distance beloved. The excitement to see them again the only thing you're focused on.

As you sit down at your typical economy seat you wait for the plane to takeoff. Right away, you hear the pilot's voice speak through the intercom "Happy Valentine's Day, passengers. Especially to the one sitting at D21."

Fortunately, no one was sitting beside you, but others within your row stared at you, confused. You glance away, wondering if the pilot just messed up the seat number.

Half an hour into the flight, the attendants start rolling in their refreshment and snack carts. The flight is about 4 hours long in total, so you were sure they would be walking through a few times. As the cart comes over to you, a pretty lady and man are all smiles as they ask what you want to drink.

As your cup is settled down, they give you one of those snack boxes along with some cookies and chips. Oh but they didn't stop there.

They took a heart shaped box out from the tray, and placed it on your tray as well, wheeling away before you could even ask what the chocolate was for.

Too weird.

Another hour later, another flight attendant lady hands you a big bouquet of pink and white flowers, chirping, "You look so beautiful today! I wonder what your routine is!" She's leaning a bit too close to you. As if she wants to steal a kiss on the cheek.

But then she's nudged by another attendant who comes over with a stuffed llama, his eyes forming a small glare. He puts the llama on your lap, patting it's torso. "Here, have this to keep you company. I can get you a thicker blanket if you'd like."

But just like that, one of the pilots, who rarely even show their faces during a flight, comes over. Holding a small opened box, which had a big sapphire ring in it. "This isn't an engagement, but it can be if you'd like."

The passengers watch as the poor D21 occupant struggles to keep the amount of plane staff calm as their area is overloaded with gifts.

.

.

.

How will you explain this to your beloved when you get off the plane?

(Sorry I'm so sick ah- I can't. But I'll be better soon I promise.)