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markleessodalite · 1 month ago

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Letters to Lovers: NCT Dream

content: letters that lover!dreamies write to you. some cute and sweet, some a little angsty, some are short and some are a little longer. i wanted to have a lot of variety in these so hopefully i accomplished that

warnings: none that i can think of, chenle's letter is written after he calls reader annoying so if you're sensitive about that i guess maybe don't read that one

a/n: i wanted to intentionally keep the dreamies' roles as just lovers here bc its a vague term that can mean anything, so you can imagine them as whatever that term means to you :) but if you're curious about how i viewed them as i wrote these: mark, jaemin, chenle and jisung as established bfs (jaem is maybe a lil husband coded too), jeno as a friend, haechan as a skinny love of sorts, renjun as a situationship

Mark:

Hey baby! I hope you’re doing well… we’ve both been pretty busy, yeah? I guess that can’t be helped. But I’ve been missing you a lot, and I guess that can’t be helped either. I feel like our signals have been constantly getting crossed lately, don’t you? It just seems like anytime we make plans, one of us gets the time confused, or something else comes up, or one of us is just too tired from everything else going on to make any plans… Now that I think about it, I don’t know why I’m writing this on paper instead of just texting you. Calling you would be the preferred method anyway, but you’d probably be too busy to answer. I know there’s been a lot of times when you’ve called me, but I was too busy. But anyway, I guess a letter feels more important? Or like… sentimental? That word sounds so dumb right now for some reason. I guess what I want to say is that I don’t want this weird rut we’re in right now to prevent us from getting closer. I want to turn this into something that makes our relationship stronger instead of weaker. You kind of alluded to that last time we met, that you were getting fed up with how things are right now, but I think you were trying to pretend like you were joking? But I could still tell you were disappointed, y/n. When you think about it, there’s so many reasons why we decided to be together, right? It just seemed so obvious. Like we’re meant to be, as cheesy as that sounds. So I know that right now it kind of looks like this is something that’s gonna break us, but I think we should just change our perspective a little bit. This isn’t like a mountain that’s gonna block our path, its just a hill we have to climb over. And then we can keep on going. Last night I was listening to that one song by The Script, For the First Time, I think you should listen to it too. I think it kinda explains how we feel right now. Just don’t give up on us yet, okay baby?

Renjun:

Hey y/n. I’m sorry for ignoring your calls. I’ve never liked talking on the phone. I was gonna text you, but I never really found the courage to, or the right words. I still don’t think I have the right words, but I really need to say this. This needs to be said now. I can’t keep putting it off. That night we spent together, it was amazing. Please don’t misunderstand. I don’t think I’ve ever been that comfortable with anyone before, and I walked away from it feeling something that I don’t think know that I never felt before. I think you thought that I regretted going that far with you or something, but I promise there is nothing about that night that I regret. And this is where I always get stuck. I don’t know how to say what I want to say from here. I’ve tried to think about how to say it without causing you pain, but I’m not sure that’s totally possible. So I’ll just say it. We can’t be anything more than friends. I’m sorry. I know we said a lot of things that night that may have given us false hope, or made us think that we should be together, but I’m thinking realistically now. We have nothing in common. We don’t want the same things in life. There’s nothing really bringing us together besides a mutual physical attraction, but that’s not something that can last. Its not a you problem, believe me. You’re beautiful, and you definitely would make a wonderful partner for someone– just, not me. And I don’t think I’d be good for you either. So, I’m sorry if I said or did anything that night that may have given you a certain impression. I really, really am sorry. But, I’m not sorry that we got to share that experience with each other. I don’t know what exactly makes people a perfect fit, but I’ve always imagined it has a lot to do with how a person is raised. Our experiences shape who we are, right? Maybe if I was raised differently, or if you had different experiences, maybe we could have worked out. But, not in this lifetime… But I’ll always be your friend, y/n. Always, until the end of time, in every lifetime. I love you, my friend.

Jeno:

Y/n, I hope this doesn’t make you feel weird or uncomfortable. I would have preferred to do this in person, but I guess I’m a coward in that way. Last night you said some things that really made me think. You said that I don’t move very fast, that I just let opportunities move past me. You’re right about that. I think that I’m very comfortable in my own bubble. I like my home, I like my friends, I like my job, so I guess I decided I don’t really need or want anything else. I just like the things I’ve always liked. I like doing the things I’ve always done. I think part of me doesn’t like change either. Or just not knowing what’s coming next. After what you said, I realized I want to change that. If I’m being blunt, the main reason I want to change that is because I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. I don’t think I wanted to admit it at first, because it makes me feel vulnerable in a way, and I hate feeling vulnerable. So I guess my plan was to just… keep it to myself. But I realized if I did that, I could be missing out on so much. I don’t want to miss out on things with you. (I mean, only if you feel the same way, of course) So, that’s all. I really, really like you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it in person, but I hope this letter conveys what I want to say. Although I don’t think I’m the best writer either to be honest, haha. I guess just, let me know what you think? I’ll talk to you later, hopefully. - Jeno

Haechan:

Dear Y/n, Ha! See? I told you I have pretty handwriting. It looks like one of those old romantic letters from the 1800’s or something, right? Back when they used a bunch of fancy expressions. Like saying you could swim in someone’s eyes. I wonder who was the first person to ever say that… Another thing they used to do was put stuff in their wallets, like photos and stuff. My dad had photos of me and my siblings in his. But then he started using Apple Pay like everybody else and now no one carries wallets anymore. What a shame. The whole thing is so romantic– the wallet thing, I mean. So, here’s what I think we should do: we should start carrying wallets with us, and you’ll put this letter in yours, and you can write me a letter to carry in mine. Isn’t that cute? I’m actually curious to see what your handwriting looks like, I know its not as pretty as mine though. Okay, I should probably end this so that it will be small enough to actually fit in your wallet. Wait, what if we got MATCHING wallets? Love, Donghyuck <3

Jaemin:

Good morning, pretty! Sorry you didn’t get to wake up to my kisses, I needed to make an early run to the bookstore before it gets busy (definitely not to get that book you’ve been talking about lately or anything…) I brewed some coffee, I put some in the fridge for you so you can make your iced latte :) Also, did you know you mumble in your sleep sometimes? I could’ve sworn you said my name this morning, but I was too enamored by your cute sleeping face to really pay attention to what you were saying. Actually, I realized that I might do that pretty often. I know sometimes you get annoyed with me, for spacing out or not paying attention. I’m sorry for that. It’s really not intentional! Honestly, how can I not be distracted when you’re the most beautiful person in the world? Sometimes when I look at you it takes my breath away– literally, and then I have to focus on breathing and I might miss a detail or two. That usually happens when you wear those pink diamond earrings, they bring out your eyes so well… But I’ve been getting better! At the detail thing, I mean. So hopefully by the time I get back you’ll be awake, and I’ll have a new, collector’s edition of this book for the prettiest person in the world. I love you y/nie! <3

Chenle:

I know a letter slipped under your door is probably the last thing you would expect or want to see, but you’re not answering my texts or calls, so this is my last resort. I’m sorry for what I said. All of it. I was out of line. I was just angry, and like the immature brat that I am, I just wanted to make you angry too. But I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you, especially since I wasn’t even angry with you in the first place and you were just trying to help me. I think it hurt my pride a little bit that you had to help me. It made me feel inadequate, or like I can’t do anything. But that’s not something that’s your fault. That’s my own insecurity that I need to deal with, because there’s nothing wrong with receiving help from people that care about you. I don’t know why I was so sensitive about it. I think part of it was that I didn’t want to seem weak in front of you– I want you to feel like you can rely on me, and instead I made you want to avoid me. But all those things I said, about you being annoying or too much, none of it is true. I was annoyed and frustrated with myself. I could never be annoyed with you. I want you to be around all the time. I want you to come back. I understand if you don’t want to, if I hurt you enough to make you leave for good, I know that’s my fault. But I really, really hope you don’t feel that way. I think that’s all I can say. Please come back. Please.

Jisung:

Y/nie, Happy birthday! I hope you like this gift! I’m sure you probably will. Its all you’ve been talking about lately. You weren’t kidding when you said it was super rare– I had to basically stalk this one eBay account to make sure I won the auction thingie (I’ve learned that I HATE using eBay by the way) So, I can imagine what you’ll say when you get this. You’ll probably be like “something like this is way too special” but that’s… kind of the point. We’ve been dating for a while, and it’s been mostly casual stuff, but I’m at the point where I want to be serious with you. I want to be your boyfriend, officially. I would have told you this in person, but a letter seems better. Because you said once that you love having mementos to remember good things, so maybe you can keep this letter and it will remind you of a good feeling. At least I hope this letter gives you a good feeling… So yeah, I’ll leave this gift in your living room and just wait for you to call me when you get it :) P.S. I know you said the extra key you gave me was just for emergencies and this isn’t really an emergency… oops!

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lemon-berri · 3 months ago

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Perfume (pt 3)

There's that floral smell again. It's the first thing you notice, like a hand reaching out to you from reality. You take it, holding on tight. You're ready to come home.

Your other senses follow suit. There's a soft mattress below you, a cover like a cloud covers you. You're warm, in a cozy kind of way, and the covers beneath you rustle softly as you attempt to move- a gasp follows. You try and recognise the voice but can't seem to concentrate right now.

Finally, you open your eyes, and the real world comes into focus again. Blurry light immediately floods your vision and you have to squint. But soon you start to make out familar shapes, colour floods your world.

You're surrounded by flowers. Bouquets of your favourites flood every visible surface, and you might've thought you were in a meadow were it not for the familiar bed and furniture surrounding you.

You're in the medical rooms of Jujutsu Tech. That's right. You were on that mission, and then the wretched cursed spirit managed to trap you in your mind. There's a sinking feeling in your stomach as you realise you must've worried everyone.

When you try and move your limbs they feel weak, almost foreign to you. Your entire body feels stiff. Just how long were you out for...?

Someone's calling you name.

"Hey... hey can you hear me? Are you alright?"

You move your head slightly to find Shoko by your bedside, examining you with a concerned expression. Your heart clenches at the worry in your friends eyes.

"Sho...?" you croak out. Your own voice is a foreign thing.

She only chuckles, shaking her head slightly. "I knew you'd come back."

You try and speak again, but this time no noise comes out. Your heart races, why can't you move? Why can't you talk?

You felt like you were out for a day, possibly two. But then why can't you control your body? Just how long were you out?

"Don't put unnecessary strain on yourself." Shoko tells you. "I know you're confused, it will pass. You'll regain control of your body gradually." You watch her put a hand on your shoulder, but the sensation of touch takes a while to register. You feel even more afraid now.

"I'll help you every step of the way, okay?"

She's saying something else now, but you can't hear her anymore. Your eyelids feel heavy, and though you fight it, the darkness pulls you under again.

Rest. Yes. You need to rest.

The next two days are exactly the same. You wake up, try to move, get a few words out, and then you sleep again. But you're making progress, slowly managing longer conversations ever so slowly.

Shoko kept true to her word, she's been here every time you've awoken, she has not left your side. You've found out from her that you were gone for 3 months. It's still processing in your mind, how you could've missed so much time. It's a sickening, dreadful sort of feeling. One you haven't quite come to terms with.

No one else has come yet. Shoko is probably trying not to stress you. But you've noticed all the cards left for you. Some from your friends, others from your students. And an overwhelming amount from one very important person.

You've noticed his absence of course, but you try not to let it discourage you. You've seen the flowers around the room, the sea of gift bags along the floor. There was a white teddy bear next to you when you woke up, and you noticed you were tucked in with your favourite blanket from home.

There's no doubt he's been here. Clearly he's spent a lot of time here. He hasn't abandoned you.

On the evening of the second day, you finally manage the words to ask Shoko.

"S'toru.. where is he..?" Your voice is getting better now, you're making good progress.

"He was sent on an overseas mission just before you woke up." Shoko explains. She's writing something down in a notebook, you watch her hands move quickly along the paper. "Trust me, it was a massive argument between him and the higher ups. He didn't want to leave. But I've called to tell him you're awake, he's likely already on his way"

That makes you smile, he's coming back. Something burns in your chest. It's the same kind of determination you used to beat the cursed spirit. You'll be better by the time he comes back, you'll make even more progress.

Shoko seems to notice the fire in your eyes, she returns your smile. "Let's try sitting up next, yeah?"

The next day you're reading sentences out loud from a sheet of paper, getting used to your voice again, to forming full sentences. You've managed to sit up by now, and you've been moving your legs slightly- building up to standing again.

There's no one in the room but you right now. Shoko had other things to attend to, she's still at work after all. But you know she's only a call away.

"Dogs are better than rabbits, but rabbits are better than snakes-" You pause, musing to yourself. "What...? Who wrote these?"

That's when you hear a commotion down the hallway outside your room. Two sets of loud footsteps, walking fast. They're talking in raised voices, but you can't quite make out the words.

Your attention is immediately swayed, the earlier task all but forgotten. And you listen carefully as their voices become clearer.

"You have to stay calm or you'll stress her unessersaily."

"I am calm!"

"Sure. Clearly you are. Because this is how a calm person acts."

"I don't have the time for this-"

The door to your room swings open.

Your eyes instantly meet his. And you find yourself enraptured by a stormy blue ocean of emotions. He stops in the doorway, as if unable to move.

Not that you can either. Time stops entirely, and you take him in. Satoru. Your Satoru. He's home.

Your relief is quickly replaced with concern as your eyes trail along his form. His hair is dishevelled, and dark bags have formed under his eyes from a lack of sleep. He's trembling, his uniform is messy and unironed, and he's not wearing a blindfold so his head is probably already hurting.

Tears well in your eyes, for what he must've been through these past few months.

Perceptive as ever, he instantly notices.

"Nonono- Angel, I'm sorry, don't cry-" Satoru moves in towards you, wrapping his arms around you ever so gently. Like you're a porcelain doll that might break at any moment. On your end, you hold him so tight you feel like you might squeeze the air out of him.

Shoko stands at the doorway, making sure you're okay and that he's not causing you trouble, before deciding its safe to leave you alone. There's a gentle sound as she closes the door.

Satoru nuzzles your shoulder, white hair ticking your jawline. He breathes out your name like a prayer, like you're the only thing that exists.

You can't help the tears that flow from your eyes.

"I'm sorry-" you try to say, but it comes out as a sob.

He looks up, meeting your eyes. "Sorry? Why are you apologising?" His hands come up to hold your cheeks, brushing your tears away with his thumb.

"For making you worry..." You mutter out.

"Never-" Satoru shakes his head "and I mean never ever apologise. Okay? I should be on my knees thanking you for coming back."

He starts to crouch down, earning a laugh from you in the midst of your tears. He's always known how to make you smile.

"Please don't do that." You say.

He smiles, straightening up again. "There she is."

Then he's holding you again, tighter this time. You lean against his firm chest, feeling like you're home as you listen to the steady heartbeat you've grown so familiar to.

You're both quiet for a moment. Content with each other's presence. He's your peace, and your warmth, and the steady shelter in the middle of your storm. Your entire world. And you know, by the way he holds you, that you're his too.

"Toru..?"

Theres a pause before he answers. "Hm?"

"Did you have to get so many flowers?" You ask.

"Yes-" He starts to say, but his voice breaks. You don't need to look up to know he's crying. You just let him.

"It's okay... I'm back now, it's alright." You reassure him softly.

"M' sorry Angel..." He breathes out. "Its just... its been too long since I heard your voice..."

You hug him tighter, letting out a calm sigh. Theres a strange scent on his shirt. One that's familiar, but you can't quite place it.

"Well.. you'd better get ready for me to talk your ear off." You say to lighten the mood. Your nose scrunches slightly. What is that smell?

"I'd like nothing more." He says. You finally look up to find red puffy eyes staring back at you. Its unfair, even like this he's still irresistible. His eyes carefully study your features, like he's mapping them to memory. There's a glint of concern in the midst of the azure, and you wonder for the first time what you look like now.

You're probably weaker, undoubtedly more frail from the lack of movement. Does he like what he sees? Does he recognise you? Maybe he doesn't even know what to make of you. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

As if sensing your concern, he kisses your forehead.

"I love you... so much. You know that right? You're everything to me."

You don't hesitate to respond. "I love you too."

He smiles, leaning down to kiss you. After all this time, he needs this. But just before your lips can meet, you pull back slightly to ask.

"Toru, why do you smell like my perfume?"

Pt 1 Pt 2

And that concludes Perfume! Thank you so so much to everyone who read it and followed the series! When I started this I didn't intend to write more than one part, but you all inspired me. I sincerely hope you enjoyed the ending 🩵

You already know the drill - not proofread, please don't point out my mistakes.

You're all amazing 🩵

Dividers by @bunnysrph

🌟Tag list 🌟 @seternic @hel1nn @just-another-idk @moonchhu @kvroomi @ourfinalisation @laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #my glorious blue eyed king #gojo #satoru gojo #gojo x reader angst #gojo angst #dose of angst #angsty #angst #jjk x reader #part 3

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milessunflowers · 3 months ago

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Hello! Um... lestappen (they aren't together, not because they don't want to be but because it doesn't feel right) being happy about seeing their shared crush again after not seeing him because he decided to go to nascar only for him to switch to formula 1 for 2025 because he accepted the offer the new team gave him and because he missed them too. (Feel like lestappen doesn't tell reader that they have been in love with him since f3 because they thought he was straight, male reader thought that max was straight and charles was bisexual leaning to women and also didn't tell them he was in love with them)

Also! Love everything you've written so far! Love the franco, paper rings, fic its my fav so far!!!

–🍑

thank you so much peach!! that motivates me so much!! also this idea *chefs kiss*

max verstappen x male!reader x charles leclerc

synopsis: when you finally make your debut back in the world of formula racing, max and charles come to terms with how much they loved you, leading to you finally confessing.

author's note: okay so after some practice, i am now comfortable enough that i can write well enough for a driver!reader. for purposes, cadillac will already be a team and reader will be american AND LOGAN IS HIS TEAMMATE BC I SAY SO (miss my american sm😔) EVEN IF IT IS ONLY BRIEFLY MENTIONED. anyways, feel free to request, read the guidelines first ofc! (also apologies for the lack of dialogue in this one. i kinda forgot how to write good dialogue and kinda just let things flow! felt right for the vibes to me idk)

formula one, a true dream come true for you. you had raced in earlier formula series, alongside the likes of now four time world champion, max verstappen, and ferrari golden boy, charles leclerc. you hadn't seen them in a few tears as you had been busy racing in nascar, dominating the tracks at almost every track. you missed them, more than you would ever admit.

when you first heard that cadillac would be joining formula one as a brand new team, you felt sparks of hope erupt deep in your chest. maybe, just maybe, you would finally get the chance to race against your once competitors (and the two men who were your first real crushes).

you hadn't expected to be approached by your manager with a multi-year deal with the american team. without a second thought, you signed immediately, ecstatic that you could prove yourself to those you grew up racing, not including your all-time hero, fernando alonso. you couldn't keep in your excitement, which was clear to everyone in your immediate circle, including your new teammate and mentee (who in reality is a year younger than you), logan sargeant.

when it was revealed you were to be racing for the newest addition to the paddock, max and charles had almost the same reaction: joyful nervousness. they realized all to late the feelings they harbored for you.

but now... now you're back. it was exciting and terrifying for the two men, who have grown accustomed to only really seeing each other and never acknowledging those feelings.

to say that you were all big fat chickens was an understatement.

the first time you reappeared in the busy paddock, charles felt his heart jump to his throat while max just felt frozen. in ways, they each thought you looked better, less stressed and more mature. you seemed genuinely happy, especially in what they always called your natural habitat. you were a social able person after all.

they struck up small conversations during the driver's parade, mainly catching up and swapping jokes. it reminded you three of the old times, even if max and charles back then had some sort of beef. it made you feel even happier and more excited to be back and racing in the formula series.

it took a good few races before the three of you finally shared a podium. you would have never expected to feel more excited about p2 then now. in the cool down room, you chatted heartedly with max, awaiting for the winner to finally arrive. once the three of you were together, it was nothing but subtle flirting and chatter until it was time to go to the podium. even there (save for during monaco's national anthem as well as the italian one ringing) the three would not shut up.

it wasn't until the after party at the club where the three of you drank half of your body weight, confessing with no shame to each other. you couldn't remember the night, having had way too much to drink after celebrating your first podium of the season.

when you awoke the morning, you were in an unfamiliar hotel room, a warm weight behind you. you groan awake, blinking as the morning sun shone bright through the curtains, bathing yourself, max verstappen, and charles leclerc in a beautiful golden li-

wait, max and charles? you sobered up real quick and scrambled out of bed, falling with a loud thud in the process. you curse yourself, trying to grab whatever shirt was closest and pulling it on.

charles was the next one awake, stirring on the farthest side of the bed where he had curled around max. he blinked those beautiful eyes awake, a soft smile gracing your lips before you snapped out of it.

this couldn't be happening. you were half panicked, half happy to have woken up with the two men you had secretly loved for years but never, in a million lifetimes, would have ever thought were anything but into you. charles rubbed the sleep from his eyes, not yet having caught on what was happening. you stood there dumbly, still as a statue as you both finally made eye contact.

you chuckled awkwardly and charles let out a surprised yelp, loud enough to startle the last man asleep awake. you stared at each other for a good, long, ten seconds before max broke the silence with a cough before he sat up, as if all this was casual. it was very on brand for the dutchman.

it was quiet again, charles blinking blankly while you scrambled to collect your belongings. max stops you, sits you back down on the bed, and tries to calm you and charles down. and for some reason, it was too easy for him to.

he was gentle and sweet, carefully explaining what was going (or at least what he thought) before he finally comes clean, opening up about his feelings. after that, it was easy for you and charles to do the same, just in a slightly less organized and calm manner. it was no longer awkward but sweet and caring, soothing each nerve in the three bodies to a nice, warm hum.

you offered to make breakfast while max and charles cleaned up. from then on, it had become routine. from the hotel stays in different countries, to moving into the same apartment in monaco now overrun with pets. it was healthy and well established, the three of you keeping things strictly business at work but at home, leaving raving behind for a nice night in with the lobes of your life.

TAGS! (if you would like to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m

#f1 x male reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 x male reader #formula one x reader #charles leclerc x male reader #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x male reader #max verstappen x reader

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mothandpidgeon · 6 months ago

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Nine Lives (witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader) - Part 3

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader

rating: T (evenual E) MDNI

summary: As you came into your powers and your curves filled in, Ezra realized he feelings for you were more than just affection. The only problem? He's a 300 year old cursed witch. Oh, and he's a cat.

contents: age gap (like 300 years), angst, slow burn, yearning, probably anachronistic witchy stuff, Ezra is a cat, he won't be forever, this isnt a beastiality thing, mentions of abuse moth never uses y/n.

wc: 4.3k

a/n: I've had a tough couple of weeks (I mean, this week, who hasn't). I hope this will bring some of you joy this weekend. You deserve it. If it did, please please let me know. That would really cheer me up. Also, in case you missed it, going forward I'm going to be updating every 2 weeks. I really hope I can keep it up!

I must thanks @moonlitbirdie and @lowlights for the beta and their massive support of me in life and in writing this. Also thank you @schnarfer for helping me brainstorm some plot!

🐈‍⬛

Aunt Margot’s ringing up a tattooed girl with glasses when you stomp into the shop. You swing the door open so violently that it’s bell thwacks into the wall. You had almost a mile in the woods to walk it off but your anger has only grown, ballooning into a hot rage that’s devouring everything in your path.

“How was it?” Margot asks with a sly smile once the customer’s left with their little brown paper bag.

“River’s disgusting,” you announce.

“What happened?” her expression immediately clouds with concern.

“This is exactly why I don’t date witches. I told you that I didn't want to be set up with him.” you rant, blowing past her into what was once the dining room.

There’s still a turned leg table at its center, now piled with goods for sale. Percy winds his way between beeswax candles and hand-poured soaps.

“Oh yes I really forced him on you,” she says with sarcasm. “I recall the two of you were practically necking in front of the whole coven last night.”

You’re not sure if it’s the idea that you almost fucked River or the term necking that grosses you out more but you cringe.

“He’s so backwards. Guys like him make me ashamed to be a witch,” you say.

“How can you say such a thing? Ashamed to be a witch! Do I need to remind you just how lucky you are? After what we’ve been through? Our kind was almost wiped off the face of the earth. By mortals like your little boyfriends,” she says.

“I’m so tired of hearing that. It’s a shitty excuse. Mortals killed witches hundreds of years ago so we get a free pass to do whatever we want. To treat our familiars like slaves,” you reply.

She scoffs. “Percy do you hear that?”

He squeaks indignantly.

“He’s offended by that,” she tells you.

“He should be. It’s worse than offensive. It’s evil!” you say. Your voice echoes so loudly it rattles the antique silvered mirror hanging over the mantle.

Margot gathers Percy in her palm calmly stroking his white fur, her eyebrow arched in a way that tells you she’s trying to be patient. You shouldn’t take out it on her. She’s never been anything but good to her familiar.

“Do you know what he said about Ezra?” You can feel tears begin to bite at your eyes.

She frowns when she reaches into your mind to hear it herself.

“His family’s always held onto the old ways," she says, shaking her head in disappointment.

“Don’t make excuses for him,” you snap.

She tucks Percy into the pocket of her cardigan and places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“He’s an idiot and I’m proud of you. And you should be proud of yourself too. All of you,” she says.

–

The basement of the Arcane Page might be described as spooky, what with its cobwebs and dusty, amber jars. Apothecary shelves stocked with potions, rare ingredients, and animal bones meet the low ceilings. Disused broomsticks sit in the corner along with willow branches and a black goat’s horn. There are all manner of spell books down here along with hand written notes from your ancestors. At the center of the room there’s a wide oak table carved with runes and spells. It smells like ink and dried leaves and magic.

The warm sunset streams through the egress windows catching the dust that floats in the air. Margot didn’t have to be a mind reader to know you wanted to be alone and so she didn’t put up a fight when you offered to close up on your own. After you closed the register and locked the front door, you ventured down to the part of the shop meant only for witches.

Your plan was just to have some quiet before venturing upstairs where Ezra would be waiting. For all you knew he was still huddled under the bed. You could abhor River but only one of you had actually hurt your familiar. You couldn’t bring yourself to face Ezra knowing you were just as bad as the rest of them.

You start opening old books. Spell books and ancient texts. You’re looking for something, what it is you can’t be certain. All you know is that you felt drawn down here, your fingers itching for the parchment pages.

When you were a young witch, you came here often. There were spell books that had become your favorites, embellished with intricate illustrations. You memorized charms for changing the color of your hair and shuffled a dog-eared set of tarot cards. This was where you cast some of your very first spells. Magic made the world feel full of wonder yet it gave you some control, an order to things that would otherwise be chaos.

That’s gone now. All of it mixed up— pride and shame, power and weakness, love and loss.

You pull a large volume from the shelf, its soft leather cover embossed with constellations. heavy and thick, You need both hands to carry it to the table where it lands with a thud and a gasp of dust escapes into the air.

You turn it open, the aged glue of its spine cracking. You run your fingers over the delicate pages, so thin you can practically see through them. They’re covered in a careful hand and you can’t help but wonder about the witches that set these spells down, what advice they’d have for you.

The magic in here is convoluted, singular spells that spill over pages and pages with diagrams and celestial calendars. Some are written in verse so dense you can barely make out their meaning. They remind you of the cadence of Ezra’s voice.

These are not small acts of witchcraft. There are instructions for summoning beasts and recipes for potions that restore youth to be brewed specially on the solstice. Some of it feels dangerous— curses against unfaithful lovers, spells to wake the dead and use them for your bidding.

You read through them all with mild curiosity. You have no reason to reanimate a dead horse or brew a cure for quinsy— whatever that is— though it would be amusing to cast a perpetual dancing spell on River if you didn’t think it would kill him.

You chuckle to yourself as you imagine him dancing uncontrollably, his limbs uncontrollable, as you turn the page. And there you see it.

What you didn’t know what you were looking for has found you.

–

You barge into the apartment with a wild look in your eye. Ezra’s still curled up in your spot on the bed. He’s been there most of the afternoon, letting bad memories flood his mind.

After the elders turned him, Ezra promised himself that he would be better. He’d been selfish and dishonest. Quick to anger. It was out of necessity, he’d told himself, but obviously it had only brought him suffering. He would change. But had he? He’d let you care for him, had loved you and fantasized about you, and he’d hurt you.

You’re calling his name, breathless from running up the stairs, with a leather bound book under your arm.

Ezra lingers in the bedroom door, guilt still festering.

“Look,” you say, setting the tome open on the little breakfast table with a thud. It seems as though you’ve forgotten everything, a whirl of urgency about you.

Ezra hops up and seats himself in front of the weathered pages. He takes in the verses there, the drawing scratched with quill and ink. It’s complicated and obscure, laborious instructions that must be followed to the letter. Behind him you’re nearly bouncing with untamed energy.

“What are you showing me?” he asks. He knows. The spell is exact but its outcome is clear.

“It’s a transfiguration spell,” you explain.

“That much is clear but—“

“I want to do it,” you say. There’s a determination in your words, a fiery assuredness that makes Ezra’s heart pick up. “I want to turn you back into a human.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No. It’s all right here. And it says under the moon of All Hallow’s Eve. That’s just in a few weeks,” you add excitedly.

“Little mage, I needn’t explain why this is folly,” he says.

It pains him to say it and not just because being human again would be the greatest gift. Your expression is a mix of frustration and heartbreak.

“You propose to defy the Elders’ judgment. They won’t take kindly to that,” he says.

“Fuck them,” you hiss. “The laws have changed. If you were convicted now, they’d take your powers but they wouldn’t make you live like this.”

“They’ll take yours if you do something so foolish,” he says. It comes out harsh but he’s angry that you’d risk your powers for him. That he wants so badly to accept.

“You don’t deserve to be a fucking cat. You should get a normal life,” you say, your body sagging onto the sofa like it can’t stand the weight of it all anymore.

“That’s quite a touching sentiment.” Ezra tries to couch the words in sarcasm but his voice breaks. He jumps down from the table and situates himself on the cushion beside you.

“Why didn’t you tell them?” you ask, defeated. Tearful eyes look towards the ceiling before falling onto him. “When they put you on trial. Why didn’t you tell the elders what he’d done?”

Ezra’s head sinks between his shoulders.

Damon was the kind of witch that only used his powers to numb himself to the rest of the world. He brewed potions that made him neglectful of his daughter one moment, belligerent towards her the next. Ezra had never considered himself a do-gooder. He saw the girl with bruises and said nothing. He was so disinterested in the goings on, he’d never even bothered to learn her name until his trial. Largely, he ignored them until the night he took Damon’s life.

Ezra hadn’t meant to engage him. It was a snide remark he made that pulled Damon’s attention away from berating Cee. Soon the two of them came to blows, Damon throwing the first punch with an accusation. Ezra was scrappy but there was a point when Damon had him pinned down and he thought his time was up. So when he was able to break free, Ezra made sure he wouldn’t be bested.

“You can’t understand how precarious it was for us then,” he says. “A hundred years of witch hunts. The life of a witch, even one as detestable as Damon was precious.”

Maybe if they’d known how Damon treated one of their kind, they would have shown Ezra leniency. But the real reason he accepted his punishment was because he knew it had been his own fault. Had he intervened earlier, gotten the Elders involved, it wouldn’t have ended in murder. You might think him a hero, but when the Elders made Ezra her familiar, Cee made it clear that she did not.

You sigh, a slight shake of your head, and you sink back into the sofa.

“You are a more than capable witch but this is ancient magic. It took the powers of no less than three elders to change me,” Ezra says as if it’s any consolation.

“Maybe Margot—“

“You’d both risk your powers,” he stops you. “No, little mage. It’s impossible.”

—

“I’m not coming,” you say.

Aunt Margot is loading a carpet bag into the trunk of her station wagon. Nearly a month has passed since the equinox. Halloween is two days away which means it’s time for your annual trip to Salem where the coven will be gathered through Samhain. The celebrations will be days long, singing and food, apple bobbing and fortune telling. Your little gathering doesn't compare.

Last night you couldn’t bring yourself to pack.

“What do you mean?” She asks.

”I’m sorry,” you say with a shrug.

You’ve been waffling on this decision for weeks but you’ve made up your mind. Even if it disappoints Aunt Margot.

”But everyone will miss you. And Simone’s making her gumbo,” she says.

”I know,” you say.

As Margot babbles out more reasons why you really shouldn’t stay home (“The spirit walk just won’t be the same without you”), Ezra snakes between your legs. You were nervous of how she’d take this news and Ezra promised to be moral support.

She throws out her hands with a pout. “I can’t stand thinking about you alone for All Hallows Eve,” she says.

“I won’t be alone,” you say, picking Ezra up and scratching under his chin.

“I will miss the gumbo,” he tells her.

“No Ezra,” she contemplates. “Maybe I can actually win at Scrabble.”

“Perchance,” he says, and you know she’s mentally tabulating the word score.

“Is this because of River?” She narrows her eyes.

It’s not. While you certainly won’t miss him, you wouldn’t let some dickwad keep you from having a good time. It’s all of them, really. Esme and the rest of them. Knowing how they think of Ezra, how they think of you, it makes you want to scream. You can’t subject him to their scorn and disdain, you won’t. You’d rather spend All Hallows Eve at home.

And then there’s that little part of you. The one that knows it’s preposterous and downright idiotic yet still hopes that you can put the Halloween moon to good use. Ezra shut that down fast but, oh, how good would it feel for the funny little witch to give them all the middle finger? .

“I’m just not in the spirit,” you say.

“Well it won’t feel like All Hallows Eve without you,” she sighs.

“I know,” you say. There’s a lump in your throat. You’ve never been apart from her for Samhain. There are countless warm memories of Halloweens past. When Margot got you your very first cauldron. The taste of pumpkin pie. The year of the freak snowstorm.

With another sigh and the jingle of her bracelets, Margot pulls you into an embrace. The smell of vetiver hangs off her hair and you breathe it in deeply.

“I’ll light a candle for you,” she promises.

“Thanks,” you say.

“And I’m going to jinx River’s socks. They’ll be damp for a month,” she says.

You laugh.

The horn of her car beeps and you break the hug to see Percy appear at the top of the steering wheel.

“He’s worried about the traffic on the Thruway,” she tells you. “I’m coming!”

“Take care of her,” she says to Ezra, petting along his jaw

He nods.

When Margot’s tail lights disappear down the street, you sit beside Ezra on the front steps.

“You could go,” he says.

“I made the right choice,” you say, stroking down the shiny fur on his back.

“So what now?” he asks.

“I don’t know. I've always wanted to go trick or treating,” you say.

“That’s blasphemy, little mage,” Ezra quips.

—

Ezra holds you in his arms. Human arms. Your skin is warm against his as you lay tangled together. The morning light catches on the prism beads you have hanging in your bedroom window, little rainbows dancing across the walls and rumpled bedspread. His lips brush across your forehead, leaving a ghost of a kiss at your hairline. You sigh dreamily and your fingertips graze his bare chest. You‘re just barely awake when you turn your face up to him, your eyes warm like you missed him while you were sleeping. He greets you with a kiss, your lips opening to him with a low hum. His fingers tangle with yours as the grasp the spindles in the headboard.

His name comes out of you in a gasp of breath.

He’s had these dreams for years but they’ve been happening almost every night since you showed him that spell. Sometimes passionate– your thighs opening as he explores your body— but just as often innocuous. Picking flowers in the meadow by his boyhood home. Bringing you tea as you read on the porch swing.

Each dream is so alluring, even the most banal, he wakes up with the words on the tip of his tongue, ready to ask you to risk it all and turn him.

You haven’t brought it up again in the weeks since you set that spellbook in front of him. Maybe you thought better of it. Maybe you were just angry. You told him about your spat with River and, while it touched him that you’d come to his defense, he knew it was an impulsive choice.

Either way, it’s for the best.

It wouldn’t end well. Of course, you’d be putting yourself at risk. He’d made that very clear to you. There are a thousand other reasons why it shouldn’t be done. He’s probably forgotten how to be human and what he would do with himself in this day and age, he has no idea. The only job experience he’s had in the past two hundred years is rat catching.

The logistics of being a human matter little to him, though. His real concern is with you.

He’ll no longer be your companion. You won’t scratch behind his ears, invite him to lay in your lap. You’ll probably expect him to move on and live the life he’s always wanted. He can’t think of one that doesn’t involve you.

At least as a cat, he never has to know if you’d choose another man over him.

He’s laying awake, pondering this once again, when your eyes crack open. Warm mid morning light pours in through the lace curtains, bathing you in a honeyed glow. With Margot out of town and the store closed, the two of you had been on your own, spending the previous dsy together. A walk in the woods, a visit to the coffee shop where other patrons greeted Ezra with friendly scritches. You bailed on plans with the mortal Connor to watch movies and snuggle Ezra on the couch. It should have been enough, that’s what he thought when the credits rolled and you were snoring on the couch, your fingers buried in his scruff. He could share a lifetime of this with you and be grateful for it. But he was greedy.

”Happy Halloween,” you say.

You pull him close and he nuzzles into your warm skin.

“You were in my dream,” you say. Your voice is still rough from sleep, still somewhere far away like you haven’t fully regained consciousness.

Ezra’s cheeks heat under his fur. It’s not just the raspiness of your throat but his shame. If only you knew what he’d been dreaming about.

“I was doing that spell. To change you,” you say.

“I would’ve hoped for something more scintillating.” He plays it off as a joke.

You huff a laugh and rest your wrist across your forehead, eyes cast towards the ceiling. “Right when you turned I woke up,” you say.

Ezra doesn’t want to admit it— that he was thinking about that very spell, that he wants your dream to be a premonition. Witches have been known to have those. No, that’s wishful thinking.

He gets to his feet and stretches out.

“What a pity you missed my face. I can’t quite remember my own countenance,” he says.

You sigh with exasperation. “I think it’s a sign,” you say.

“Our dreams are just that,” he tells you.

“Not this one. It wasn’t just a dream,” you insist. You sit up on your elbows meeting his eye with eagerness. “I can do it.”

“I told you—“

“Ezra, I want to do it,” you say with finality. “I want you to be human again.”

He grits his teeth. If he was capable of crying, he might after hearing your words, seeing that resolution in your expression. It takes all of his strength to not just give in and say yes. You know the reasons why it shouldn’t be done and he can’t tell you the ones that make him hesitant.

“You would turn me knowing how much more capable I am of violence? I might be declawed but I will be far more dangerous as man than beast.,” he asks. It still weighs on him even though it’s been weeks since the equinox and it seems you’ve all but forgotten it.

“I trust you,” you say. There’s a tenderness in your eyes that makes Ezra’s heart swell.

He knows you mean it. You shouldn’t. He doesn’t deserve to be trusted, to be loved by you. He was never a good man, never stood up for anyone else. And it’s that very reason that’s had his mind in knots. He’s selfish. He wants this chance.

Maybe, maybe you’ll give him the same look as a human and he can love you back the way he’s always wanted.

“Besides, I know how to defend myself,” you say with a grin.

That’s his little mage.

“Very well,” he says. “I’m ready.”

–

You light the final candles on the oak table. The basement is illuminated by the dim glow of candles. You’ve spent the whole day down here with Ezra readying everything for the moon of All Hallows Eve.

Luckily Aunt Margot will be gone for the week so you don’t have to worry about interruptions. You’re not sure how she’ll react but right now, frankly, you don’t care. This is the right thing to do, you keep telling yourself. It’s justice. It’s not about the thrill you feel now, butterflies in your belly.

You’ve daydreamed about it and after last night’s dream, your imagination feels closer than ever There’s no good picture in your mind of what Ezra will be like but his looks aren’t important. You can’t wait to do normal things with him. What will it be like to get a coffee with Ezra? To do rituals together at Ostara. To hear his old stories again, made new by his facial expressions.

He’s quiet, nervous you’re sure, beside your cauldron. His golden eyes flit from the flames to the spellbook to the darkened window. Your excitement cools and suddenly you’re worried that your enthusiasm got the better of you. Had you pressured him into agreeing to this? He’s still your familiar after all, bound to serve you.

You kneel at the edge of the table.

“Are you sure you want to do this? We don’t have to,” you say.

“As long as you’re certain you’re willing to take on the risks,” he tells you.

You nod.

“Very well,” he says.

You look at one another for a long time, both knowing that this will be the last time things are the same. You memorize everything about him, his elegant face, the whiskers beside his little black nose, the streak of white fur above his eye. This is your Ezra, will always be even if he doesn’t exist in this form. You wish you could thank him for everything he’s done for you but the words are stuck in your throat. It won’t do to start crying now when you need to focus and recite the incantation clearly.

“I love you, Ezra,” you manage.

He responds with a long, slow blink and you kiss his forehead.

The potion is murky and thick as you ladle it into a dish. Ezra recoils when you place it in front of him.

“Smells like piss,” he says with a wince before lapping it up. A shiver runs over his body, down the length of his tail. “Tastes like it.”

He leaps onto the table and settles at the center of the carved pentagram.

“Work your magic, little mage,” he says.

This is it. It’s all laid out just like your dream but you’re still anxious. There’s no room for error.

With a deep breath, you straighten your back and begin to say the words. You read them countless times throughout the day, memorizing each verse so that it can flow from your heart to your tongue. As each one leaves your mouth, you visualize them on the page. Magic begins to stir in you, a tingle beneath your skin.

Ezra lays on his belly, his eyes drifting close, paws outstretched towards you.

You shut your eyes tight and focus your energy, like a beam of pure magic directed towards him and say the words again.You think about him, really envision his details down to the hair. Memories flood you. Ezra rubbing up on the old books in the store. His soft purrs against your chest when your heart felt heavy. The time he slipped on the edge of the tub and fell into your bath. The love you feel for him radiates in your chest all the way to your fingertips.

You’re squeezing all of it palms, every drop of energy within you aimed at Ezra. A vibration, an earthquake.

You say the words a final time.

Lightheaded. Breathless. Exhausted.

Your eyes flutter open.

Ezra lays on the table just as you left him. Unchanged.

“No.” The word slips from your mouth nothing more than a whisper.

Ezra blinks, looking down at his black paws.

You see his shoulders sag and a long moment passes as he gathers himself before looking at you.

It doesn’t make sense. You did everything right, just as you’d seen in your sleep. You’ve never cast with such fervor.

“Okay,” you say, swallowing hard around a sob. “We’ll do it again. The moon will be higher.” You can hear your own desperation, voice shaking as you try not to lose faith.

Ezra slowly sits himself up.

“Maybe you need more potion,” you suggest.

“No, little mage,” he says, resigned.

“Ez–” You’ve failed him. Your chest burns, tears brim in your eyes.It feels like you might collapse from the exertion and sheer heartbreak that’s overwhelming you.

“It’s alright. I’ve been a cat for more than a few years. And so I shall remain,” he says.

🐈‍⬛

Part 4

Again, it would really make my day to hear from you if you've come this far! My asks and dms are always open!

#ezra #ezra prospect #witchy #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra x f!reader #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal #prospect fic

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mlqueen89 · 2 months ago

Text

Four | Boundaries

Are there some aces up your sleeve? Have you no idea that you're in deep? I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found That makes me think of you somehow an' I play it on repeat

Do I Wanna Know by The Arctic Monkeys

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin / ofc (top gun: maverick)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

Warnings/triggers: smut in overall series, mentions of parent death/absence, swearing (let me know if i missed any!)

word count: 8,274 summary: the one where ellie assembles the avengers her team and pulls back the curtain on her tech. jake switches up his approach and ellie grapples with early push back from the pilots. A/N: this chapter and the previous chapter were originally one chapter, but my magnanimous beta kindly told me to chop it in two, which left some breathing room for the wonderful opening scene, of which i’m so incredibly proud. and then i let my fingers go wild, and this chapter got split in two. basically, it’s so clear at this point that i’m gonna need more than 10 chapters to tell jake and ellie’s story properly. these kids are just the most fun, but also, the most stubborn.

this one is plot heavy. this whole chapter (technically 4 & 5) was the most exciting and fun chapter i've written for jake and ellie’s story so far, i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. i've added a bunch of terms to the glossary, so feel free to head there if there’s something you’re not sure of terminology wise. i really wanted to make this authentic – ya know, as authentic as fanfiction could be. ❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ glossary of terms ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ❥

Midway Park, Lemoore, California — 2005

The early morning October air was crisp, carrying the faint smell of fresh cut grass and rubber tires as families gathered around the makeshift track for the annual soapbox derby.

Ellie clutched her helmet under one arm, the other hand resting on the sleek grey soapbox car she and her dad had worked on for weeks with interspersed help from one or more of his old wingmen. Its reflective paint gleamed under the sunlight, a perfect replica of his old F-14 Tomcat, right down to the call sign, now replaced with her name and RIO painted on with the steady hand of her uncle Wolfman.

She’d excitedly run the race in her head as she tried and failed to sleep, her eyes scanning over every detail of her helmet sitting on her dresser across the room and the olive one-piece flight suit hanging behind her door in the dim glow of the moonlight seeping in through the cracks in her slatted blinds. She hadn’t even eaten her whole breakfast that morning, partly because Wolfman had cracked the egg wrong in the pan and there were shells to pick out of the scrambled eggs, but mostly because her stomach tossed. Her legs swinging impatiently under the table as she pushed her food around her plate and watched her dad read the paper and sip his coffee like he had all the time in the world.

“Alright, Ellie, here’s the deal, kiddo,” her dad said, crouching to her level. In his aviators, Ellie could see the reflection of her wide eyes before she took a look at the lineup of cobbled together cars and the other kids crowded around the roped off track. “The under-10 category?” he waved his hand, dismissive, “that’s baby stuff. You’re better than that.”

Ellie frowned, her small hands gripping the curved edge of her old ski helmet, scrawled with uneven, bubbly kid letters RIO. “But I am under 10. I’m eight and a half and...” Ellie paused to count on her fingers, her pink nail polish chipped and barely there, “... two days!”

Rick tilted his head toward his wingman, Leonard “Wolfman” Wolfe, who stood nearby with a clipboard and a devil-may-care smirk. “Not today, Rio. Today, you’re 10 and a half—officially. Right, Wolfman?”

Wolfman tapped the clipboard with a pen, his mischievous grin widening. “Right-o, born two years earlier than the records say, 1994. Funny how paperwork can get all... mixed up.” His hand waved in the air, a magician performing a disappearing act, shaking an etch-a-sketch.

Ellie’s eyes widened as her gaze shifted between the two men. “Dad, is that… allowed?”

Her dad chuckled and ruffled her hair playfully. “Let’s just say it’s a tactical adjustment. Mid-flight maneuver. Trust me, you’re ready for the big leagues.” He crouched closer, lowering his voice. “You wanna race against kids who can barely steer, or you wanna take on the best and show them what the Nevens are made of?” Her dad tapped the patch with the wings stitched to the left side of her olive coloured jumpsuit, the last name Neven, E. embroidered there.

Ellie’s lips twitched into a gap-toothed smile, her nerves melting under her dad’s infectious confidence, the feeling of pride blooming in her chest. “The best.”

She reached up to touch the patch, her tiny fingers grazing the fine stitching. Ellie, her dad and Wolfman had hovered over her mom’s shoulder as Ellie’s thrift store coveralls turned flight suit passed under the thumping needle and thread of her mom’s sowing machine, each stitch pinning the embroidered patch to her uniform. She’d felt the importance of it then and now she carried it like a plate of armour.

“That’s my girl,” her dad beamed widely before he stood again, slapping Wolfman on the back. “Alright, make it official, Wolfe. She’s in the higher category.”

Wolfman offered a half-salute before he scribbled something on the form tacked to the clipboard and stepped up to the registration table, where a volunteer in a bright yellow shirt shuffled through forms. “We’ve got an entry for the 10-and-up category,” he said, sliding the clipboard across the table with a pop of the chewing gum in his mouth, a wry smile on his lips.

The volunteer, a woman in her mid-forties, frowned, gathering the clipboard with a wary look at Wolfman before she redirected her green eyes to squint at the paper. “Eleanor Neven? Didn’t she race in the under-10 category last year?” The woman’s eyes passed between Wolfman and Rick and then stood slightly to peek at Ellie over the edge of the table before they returned to the form, her finger tapping at the birthdate, skeptical.

Rick flashed a dazzling smile, the aviators reflecting the woman’s face back at her as he clicked his tongue. “Kids grow up fast, don’t they? She’s been eating her Wheaties.” For effect, he patted the top of Ellie’s head and pulled her to his side.

“Plus, last year was a mistake. Wrong birthdate on the form. Happens all the time with military families. You know how it is—paperwork gets shuffled around, lost.” Wolfman added smoothly, leaning against the table as a line formed behind him with other families waiting to register.

The volunteer hesitated, glancing between the two men again before she sighed, unclipping the form from the clipboard before she slid it into the appropriate pile and began gathering the numbered aprons. “Well… if the birthdate checks out—”

“It does,” Rick said firmly, all the while his smile never wavered. “I triple-checked it myself. Wolfman here looked it over too. We were both there when she was born. She’s ten and ready to roll.”

The volunteer’s eyes narrowed, her gaze passing from her dad then to Wolfman before she quietly handed over the documentation.

Ellie watched the exchange for a moment before she reached up and tugged on her dad’s sleeve as Wolfman collected the stamped form and they stepped away for the next family to register. “Dad, what if they find out? Isn’t this cheating?”

Rick crouched again, resting a hand on her shoulder as Wolfman crouched behind her, clipping the numbered bib there. “Rio, here’s the thing about flying—or racing,” he reached out to pat the edge of the soapbox plane’s greyed body, “sometimes, you gotta bend the rules a little to get to where you’re going. It’s not about cheating—it’s about knowing you’ve got what it takes, even if the rules don’t think so. Pushing against the limits a bit so we know where the edge is for next time. Tell you what, when we see Uncle Mav, we can ask him about it, huh?”

Over her shoulder, Wolfman snorted loudly, before he coughed, clearing his throat as Rick shot him a look before he moved on to wrap a numbered arm band around Ellie’s bicep.

Ellie’s gaze flicked to the track, where older kids were already testing their cars, their faces set with confidence. She squared her shoulders, set her jaw and nodded, though her fingers fiddled with the straps of the helmet tucked under her arm. “Okay, Dad. Let’s do it.”

“Atta girl,” Rick said, standing and saluting her before he clapped his hands together, rubbing them in anticipation. “Now, get ready to smoke ‘em.”

They wheeled the soapbox to the race area, Ellie’s fingers tapping out on the outside of the helmet under her arm, her heart beating hard in her small chest. Instinctively, Ellie walked around the soapbox car, her fingers brushing the frame.

“Always do your preflight before boarding,” her dad had been gazing at her in the rearview at the red light two intersections before the race grounds.

“Visual 360, fuel and instrument check.” Ellie had nodded, listing off the checklist; her neck craned from the back seat to see if she could scope out any other racers headed to the track. She unbuckled her seat belt to slide closer to the center console before Wolfman threw her a look over his shoulder.

“Seat belt in this aircraft, kid.” He tutted at her, sliding his aviators down his nose as he popped his gum, pausing on filling out the registration forms in his lap, “you think we’re rule breakers?”

“We’re not?”

“Rule benders,” Wolfman corrected, levelling her with a look until she slid back into her seat and buckled up with a click before he pushed his glasses back up and turned his eyes ahead, “we prefer the term rule benders.”

Climbing into the soapbox, Ellie settled into the low seat as her dad crouched beside the car, sliding the helmet over her head and clipping the strap under her chin. Wolfman leaned forward and tapped dutifully on the top of the helmet, as her dad adjusted it, tugging at the chin strap sharply. Wolfman grinned at her, but when he spoke, it was for his wingman. “She’s ready for this, you think?”

Ellie’s eyes found her dad’s through the clear visor as he snapped it down over her eyes, his features softened as she smiled her gap-toothed smile at him and adjust the helmet around her head. “She’s a Neven, Wolfman. She was born ready. Right kiddo?”

“So, Tilly’s given the a-okay, then?”

Ellie didn’t miss the look her dad threw at his WSO over his shoulder.

Wolfman raised his hands and chuckled. “Fair enough. Let’s hope she doesn’t notice we didn’t tighten the steering bolts all the way.”

Rick’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

“Relax, Hollywood. I’m kidding.” Wolfman chuckled, clapping him on the back. “Mostly.”

Her dad groaned as the announcer called for racers to line up and he pushed her car onto the pitched ramp, the ready position. Ellie gripped the wheel as her front tires settled against the gate, the countdown echoing overhead.

Ten.

Nine.

“Preflight checks complete, Lieutenant Neven?” He asked, standing at attention beside the soapbox, his voice calm and steady as the countdown reached the last eight seconds.

Eight.

Seven.

“Preflight checks complete.” Ellie’s foot tapped on the break and twisted the steering wheel, leaning over to watch the tires pivot on spot. “Pattern clear?”

Six.

Five.

“Pattern clear, aviator.”

Four.

Three.

“Requesting clearance for take-off, sir.”

Two.

“Clearance granted, Lieutenant Neven.”

One.

“Go get ‘em, Rio,” she heard him whisper as he leaned over, pressing a kiss to his fingers and slapping them on the call sign stuck onto the front of her helmet. “Let ‘er rip, kid.”

The gate in front of Ellie’s car dropped, her wheels moving forward and the soapbox rolling down the pitched track. Despite herself, she gave out a squeal of excitement as she gained speed, the wind picking up and whipping the strands of hair that escaped from under her helmet around her face.

The world around her blurred, the orange, red and yellow hues of fall rushing by her in a wash of colour, thrill of the speed and the race flooding her senses. For a moment, the sound of the wind and the beating of her heart, she felt like she was flying, a small dot in an endless blue sky. Hollywood and Rio.

On the second turn, as she broke from the pack of other racers, Ellie felt the change, the sudden increase in speed as the wheel in her hands vibrated and rumbled, wobbled and jammed, harder to steer. But then the hill grew steeper, and her soapbox car picked up more speed than she expected. Ellie’s heart jumped into her throat as she tried to remember what her dad had said about staying steady, about procedure if she came up on a problem with the steering. The third and final turn came fast—too fast—and Ellie leaned into it hard, pulling the stiff wheel as far to the right as she could muscle, but she felt when the car beneath her veered sharply, suddenly uncontrollable. When the front wheels hit a natural dip and then sudden bump in the track, Ellie felt it in her stomach.

The next few seconds were a blur. Ellie’s grip on the steering wheel slipped, the wheel jerking to the right. Ellie felt the soapbox pitch before she left the seat inside, the sting of pavement rubbing a hole in the arm of her flight suit, hot and raw. In an instant, she felt the sharp pain shoot up her arm from her elbow as she tumbled awkwardly, the world around her spinning.

The prickle of the hay bale stuck through the back of her clothing as the shooting pain in her arm intensified, the world stilled as she looked up at the blue sky above. Around her, she heard the hum of the wheels passing her and the eruption of cheers as the racers crossing the finish line.

The taste like a handful of pennies in her mouth came next and when her hand went to her lips, it came back red. From where she lay on the grass, she could see the canopy of autumn leaves clinging to the branches, the blue sky filling in the rest of the mural overhead.

Her head was spinning, and tears welled up in her eyes, leaking down the side of her eyes into her ears, as the pain in her arm intensified. She tried to sit up but whimpered, clutching her arm close to her chest. The finish line taunted her in the near distance, the checkered banner billowing lazily in the breeze.

Suddenly, her dad was there, dropping to a knee beside her. “Ellie! Hey, hey—are you okay?” His voice was panicked, but his hands were gentle as he scooped her up into his arms, holding her close to his chest.

Ellie sniffled, tears rolling down her cheeks despite her best attempts to hold it together, the pain in her arm and the sting of losing when she had been so close, the perfect storm that threatened to break her composure. “I-I broke it, Dad,” she managed through choked sobs, her arm cradled against her body, her breaths coming in gulps. As if an afterthought, she traced her front teeth with her tongue and hiccupped a small sob when she found a larger gap there than had been before, “and I lost a tooth.”

Her dad’s face softened with a mix of something Ellie couldn’t quite map, his brow pulling together into a line as he brushed hair away from her face, tucked it up the lip of the helmet still stuck on her head. “Aw, kiddo, I’m so sorry. We’ll get you fixed up, okay? Let’s get you to the hospital.”

Shifting her, he fished the car keys out of his pocket and handed them to Wolfman who, without a word, took off toward the parking lot at a clipped pace.

Ellie could only nod weakly, burying her face in his chest, the familiar scent of his aftershave and coffee settling her, cocooning her. Even through the pain, there was a comfort in his arms, the sound of his heart pounding in his chest, thumping against her tear-stained cheek centering her like the tick of a metronome guiding her back to calm.

As they headed to the parking lot, each bump or bounce of her dad’s gait a painful jolt to her arm, pushing a hiss from her lips, she heard him whisper softly, against the side of her helmet. “You were so brave, Rio. I’m so proud of you.”

Ellie nodded with a sniffle as the sound of Wolfman pulling up the van closer, brakes squealing, drew her attention. “Mom’s gonna be mad.”

“Oh, don’t worry about your mom, kid.” Ellie watched as her dad tried to laugh, but there was also a hesitation there that stopped his lips from turning up into his usually contagious, mischievous grins. “Your mom’s not gonna believe I let you get behind the wheel on the 10 and over track.”

Ellie let out a soft, watery laugh. Tilly Neven wasn’t one to trifle with. “You’re in trouble.”

Rick chuckled this time, the sound reverberating through her as he stepped over the curb into the parking lot and Wolfman slid open the door to the backseat, for a second, her dad held her a bit tighter. “Yeah, well… wouldn’t be the first time. Won’t be the last.”

Ellie had never been good at public speaking. She’d never joined a debate club or been the first to volunteer her ideas if it meant a presentation.

Once she’d received the text from Tony, confirming the tech upgrade and the program installation in the jets, she’d relaxed, but only slightly. It still meant that she had to do the part of her job she disliked the most, “the elevator pitch”.

She’d have to face the men who would be flying her tech and say Hi, I’ve added a hunk of metal and some wires into your jets. It’s going to help, trust me. Ask them to put their trust in her, their lives in her hands. It won’t malfunction according to these computer simulations. It won’t leave you hanging in a dogfight. Pinky promise.

She didn’t expect it to go off without a hitch. She didn’t expect them to cheer and lift her up on their shoulders.

All she needed was a chance, a small bit of faith before they leapt.

Ellie stood at the front of the briefing room, her hands resting lightly on the podium, her gaze scanning the faces of the four pilots clad in green flight suits seated before her. The air smelled of stale coffee and old leather, the scent of a room that had seen countless debriefings, strategy meetings, and quiet moments of reckoning.

She had spent years developing this technology, refining it, arguing for its place, its relevance, in the future of aviation. She’d tweaked it here, twisted its usefulness there, bridged a gap when she’d been turned down at one turn and climbed through windows when doors closed in her face. Now, standing here in front of the men who would be the first to fly with it, she had to vault this hurdle too, convince them it was worth trusting with their lives. Standing here, pitching for their faith in her, was more nerve wracking than presenting in front of Admiral Simpson and Rear Admiral Stark.

Taking a breath, Ellie steadied herself, ignored how Teak and Lover scuffled between each other in their seats, how Hangman’s eyes never left her, the feeling of his gaze, eyes focused, hot on her even when she wasn’t looking at him. Rooster sat behind him and kicked his chair with a well-aimed boot, the sudden jolt of his seat enough to knock Hangman out of his stare.

She didn’t ask for their attention, didn’t wait for them to notice that she was ready to begin. With a click of the remote in her hand, the screen behind her flickered, displaying the blueprint layout of an F-18, its labelled components taken straight from the NATOPS handbook. “Gentlemen. I assume Captain Mitchell has already given you a brief overview of what to expect, so I won’t waste your time on introductions or small talk and formalities.”

From the corner of her eye, Ellie could see Mav fold his arms across his chest, his eyes trained on her. He’d given her the floor immediately without preface, without introduction.

“You’ll recognize this as the wireframe of your F-18,” Ellie continued before she clicked to the next slide. An overlay slid into place, the standing systems overlaid with a complex web of radar signals, AI pathways, and electronic warfare integrations—her tech, on full display, laid bare. If she was expecting a reaction, they didn’t give her one, just silence.

“What you’re looking at is the next step in avionics evolution,” she pressed on, her voice steady, turning toward her audience. “A fully integrated, adaptive system that combines radar, AI-driven threat assessment, electronic warfare, and seamless data-sharing into a single interface. Instead of relying on separate, often outdated systems, this package will allow you to fight, evade, and communicate with a level of efficiency we’ve never seen before.”

If her heart wasn’t beating in her ears, she would hear the silence that met her words. She’d recognize it as the silence that wasn’t the good kind, the kind of silence that led her to over-explain herself. But she didn’t.

Rooster, sat forward, his forearms on the table as he studied the schematic with an unreadable expression. Lover was nodding slightly as he squinted between the screen and scribbling notes in a small flip notebook he’d pulled from the breast pocket of his flight suit. Hangman lounged in his seat, fingers laced behind his head, smirking, carefully flipping a toothpick in his mouth. And Teak—Teak sat back, arms folded over his chest, a look Ellie recognized as the tell-tale look of skepticism written across his face.

Ellie paused, her eyes drawn down to her notes. Pause for pushback, she’d written. She didn’t have to pause for long.,

“So, what?” Teak drawled, tilting his head slightly, waving at the screen. “You want us to trust some... glorified autopilot to make our decisions for us?”

Unflinchingly, Ellie met his gaze, actually looking at him for the first time. Teak’s jaw flexed; the sharp lines of his cheekbones and nose lending him a striking appearance. His eyes, an intriguingly particular shade of cerulean, not unlike a clear September sky, studied Ellie as she took her time to process the response. “No. I want you to have every possible advantage when you’re up there. The AI isn’t replacing you—it’s making sure you have all the information you need, exactly when you need it.”

Ellie clicked the remote again, and the screen shifted to a simulation. Two aircraft maneuvered through a contested airspace, one operating on traditional avionics, the other using her system.

The first fighter responded only to what its sensors could detect, reacting to threats as they appeared through visuals or radar. The second fighter’s system anticipated missile locks before they happened, evaded before the pilot even registered the danger visually, and counter-jammed enemy radar before the target was painted. “It’s all based on data, numbers. But right now, those numbers look very good,” her eyes turned to the screen and watched the simulated planes for a moment, observed as they streaked through the mock mission, data readings popping up on what looked to be a pilot Heads-Up Display.

“This system isn’t meant to fly for you,” she continued, turning back now as the simulations continued to play on loop on the screen behind her. “But it will see threats before you do, adjust possible countermeasures dynamically, and ensure your radar stays clear even in a fully jammed environment. In short? It gives you an advantage over the enemy, helps make sure you have a better chance at coming home.”

Hangman broke the silence next, the sound of his low whistle drawing Ellie’s attention as he leaned back in his chair, his open legged posture, relaxed as ever. “Well, damn. That’s one hell of a sales pitch.”

Rooster, his eyes still flicked across the data readings displayed on the screen behind Ellie, his fingers tapping absently against the table. “How fast can it adapt if an enemy starts throwing curveballs? Let’s say a bogey or SAMs or laser guided missile systems.”

Ellie clicked again, dismissing the simulation and bringing up another set of figures. All colourful charts and data sets. She’d come prepared for this line of questioning.

“Milliseconds. It’s built on machine learning models trained on thousands of real-world engagements. The more it’s used, the smarter it gets. If someone tries to jam your frequency in one way, it recalibrates instantly. If an unknown aircraft enters your airspace, it cross-references flight patterns to find weaknesses, predict its next move before you would have to react. It shows you possibilities.”

“So, you’re saying it levels the playing field against fifth-gen threats?” Lover was sitting up now, his pen tapping against his open notebook, his broad shoulders rolling forward as he pointed at the data set. Ellie thought she read excitement in his hazel eyes as he thumbed his nose.

“I’m saying it not only evens the playing field, but it tilts it in your favour.”

Silence stretched between them, charged with something between curiosity and uncertainty.

“Sounds like a lot of fancy tech that can get hacked, fail, or—oh, I don’t know—override pilot input at the worst possible time,” Teak said flatly, Ellie could almost detect the chortle behind his words. Convincing Teak would be a challenge.

Ellie forced herself to pivot—she had dealt with resistance before from officers ranking higher than Teak. Early on, she had learned pilots didn’t like change, especially not changes that altered the way they had trained, the way they had survived. Wolfman had told her as much the first time she’d passed the idea by him, Mav had all but told her what to expect from every level of Naval officer, so she wasn’t about to let skepticism derail the entire briefing. Skepticism was a given.

“It has redundancy systems,” she said evenly. “If one function is compromised, the AI reallocates resources to keep the essentials running. If something catastrophic happens? Manual override is always in your hands. It’s a tool, an aid, not a replacement for skill.”

Teak scoffed before he loudly popped his chewing gum. “Yeah, well, forgive me if I don’t put my life in the hands of an algorithm.”

Hangman chuckled, tilting his head toward Teak who sat a row behind and to his left, a lazy grin growing on his face. “Teak, buddy. You sound like my granddad bitching about GPS when it first came out. Relax, old man.”

Rooster huffed out a quiet laugh. Lover fought a smirk. Teak’s jaw ticked as if he swallowed his words.

Ellie let the moment settle before she spoke again.

“Look, I know this is all new. And I know change isn’t easy to trust. But the fact is this system isn’t here to hold your hand. It’s here to keep you alive in environments where traditional systems would leave you blind, deaf, and dead in the water.”

She let her words sink in before she continued. “I don’t expect you to trust it yet. That’s what testing is for. But I do expect you to fly with it and see for yourselves, let it speak for itself.”

Ellie scanned the pilots before her; Teak’s jaw flexed, but he said nothing more. Rooster sat back, nodding slightly, still mulling it over. Lover shrugged, casting a quick look around the room, eager. Hangman just grinned, his eyes never leaving her.

“Well, sweetheart,” he said, the amusement in his tone clear as he adjusted his seat in the chair, “I do love a good test drive.”

Ellie rolled her eyes and ignored him, clicking the remote one last time to pull up the first test flight parameters.

“Good,” she said. “Because you’re all wheels up in about 30 minutes.”

Maverick clapped his hands together, rising from his chair. “Alright, aviators; suit up and make your way to the tarmac. Let’s see what this tech can really do.”

The room stirred to life, chairs scraping against the floor as the pilots stood, some stretching, others already discussing the upcoming test amongst themselves. Ellie stayed put, gathering her laptop and notes, methodically shutting everything down.

The pilots filtered out one by one. Rooster passed the podium, tapping out a quick rhythm on the edge and shooting her a small nod on his way out, and Lover muttered something about looking forward to seeing it in action as he tucked his notepad away before air drumming with his pen. Teak, however, barely spared her a glance as he brushed past, his shoulder grazing hers a bit too close for comfort.

Ellie exhaled, letting the tension in her shoulders ease. That had gone about as well as she could’ve hoped, a little (expected) pushback, but three out of four pilots being open to try it wasn’t too bad of a ratio. She’d had worse before.

“Nice job, Rigby.”

She blinked, glancing up. Hangman was still there, standing a few feet away, hands on his hips, the toothpick sticking out the corner of his mouth, and that ever-present smugness dialed down to something… different.

Ellie hesitated before she responded. “Thanks,” she said, closing her laptop. “Though I’m sure you’ll find something to critique once you’re in the air.”

Hangman chuckled, that familiar twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, sweetheart, sounds like you know me better than you think.” But there was something almost appreciative in his expression, something that lingered a beat too long.

Ellie’s fingers curled around her MacBook, as something unreadable settling in her stomach.

Then, movement near the door caught her eye, breaking her from the moment.

Teak.

He hadn’t left after all. He lingered just outside of the briefing room in the hall, his sharp gaze passing between her and Hangman pointedly, assessing. Ellie wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but judging by the way his expression flickered—something tight, something almost knowing—he’d seen enough to form some kind of opinion.

Jake winked at her, clapping a hand on the edge of the podium as he stepped past her, “see you on the tarmac, Rigby.”

Ellie forced a nod, schooling her expression as Hangman stepped out, his hand grabbing Teak’s shoulder and giving it a shake, “c’mon granddad, I’ll show you how all those buttons work.”

Teak shook Hangman off, his lips pulled into a tight line as he lingered, just a second longer. Ellie’s eyes met his for a beat, a moment when he held it. Then, just as quickly, he was gone.

From the control tower’s observation deck, headset on, fingers drumming against her folded arms, Ellie listened the comms chatter.

From her vantage point, she could see the three jets taxi into position, the Californian sun sitting high in the blue, cloudless sky. It was as perfect a condition as she could have hoped for, at least the weather was cooperating. Around her, the Control Tower hummed with the activity of the staff, coordinating clearance with the ground crew and flight patterns of aircraft already in the air.

For years she’d imagined standing here, envisioned a time in the future where she’d be watching as her tech did its thing and the numbers started rolling in. Now, actually standing here, her heart beating in her throat, she found herself overrun with the need to fidget, the chew her lip, to bite her thumbnail.

Down on the runway, she watched as the jets roared to life, sleek bodies glinting in the afternoon light. Rooster, Teak, Lover, and Hangman. All of them sitting in cockpits wired with the most advanced avionics package ever put into a single system. If this worked—if it really worked—it would change everything. On the other hand, if it failed... well it didn’t bear thinking about, not right now at least. Ellie felt her foot tapping out on the tiled floor as her fingers dug into her arms.

“Alright, gentlemen,” Maverick’s voice crackled over the comms from somewhere in the sky, the feedback from the cockpit scratchy in her ears. “Today’s a simple test. We’re looking for a baseline. The system is going to integrate with your HUDs and onboard AI, feeding you the real-time data and making sure you have everything you need to stay alive. Your job? Fly how you normally would. My job? Try to kill you. Hard deck is 5,000 feet—let’s keep it clean, nothing fancy.”

“Clean and ‘nothing fancy’ ain’t exactly in my wheelhouse,” Hangman drawled, his accent cutting through the frequency, his voice sounding isolated, in a tin can. Ellie resisted the shiver that rolled up her spine. Though he was hundreds of feet away, a small spot on the runway, his voice in her ears sparked something in her.

Ellie rolled her eyes, mostly at him, but a little at herself, instead choosing to focus on the screens in front of her, hovering over the shoulders of the techs sitting in front of the radar equipment which beeped dutifully.

Rooster’s sigh was deep as he cut in over the frequency. “Just try not to break anything before we even get started, Bagman.”

“No promises, Rooster. No promises.” Ellie could hear the smirk in Jake’s voice. “Lover, you ready to walk your old man through this?” “I swear to God, Hangman,” Teak shot back, quickly, his comms fizzling to life. “Keep running your mouth—”

“Easy, easy—” Jake responded without missing a beat, the clicking of toggles being flipped dull in the background behind his voice, “no need to get feisty now, just say the word if you need me to break it down real slow for you.”

“Knock off the chatter,” Maverick cut in. “Wheels up in thirty seconds.”

Down on the flight line, the engines surged, afterburners flared, and one by one, the jets launched down the runway, blurs of speed that streaked into the sky like silver bullets. Ellie’s gaze shifted, watching their flight paths on the monitors in front of her, the integrated system humming to life as it started pulling in data, linking each aircraft into the seamless digital web one by one.

“Telemetry looks good from here,” Ellie spoke into the headset, her eyes took in the data as it began streaming to the screen in front of her. “All systems online and reading normal. How’s it looking up there?”

Rooster was the first to respond, his familiar voice filling Ellie’s ears. “HUD’s crisp. AI’s already starting to flag heat signatures and terrain. Feels intuitive.”

Ellie could feel the prickly of excitement before she schooled it back; too soon to start celebrating.

“Same here,” Lover added, a smooth calmness in place. “Looks good from where I’m sitting. Got anything nice to say, Teak?”

“System seems a bit chatty. Lots of information to sort through. Feels like it’s thinking for me.” Teak’s voice came through on cue, predictably, less enthusiastic.

Ellie bit her tongue, she’d make a note to address it later in the debrief. She’d carefully remind Teak that the whole point of the system was to boost and enhance their decision-making, not replace it. As with anything new, it wouldn’t seem natural or easy in the beginning but would benefit them in the long run. Old dogs, new tricks.

Hangman’s voice came last. “It’s good, I’ll give you that. But let’s see how it handles when I put it through the wringer.”

Suddenly, a spike of data jumped on Ellie’s screen. Hangman’s jet shot forward, pushing past the planned test parameters before Ellie could yell out a warning over the comms. Outside, Ellie could see his jet as he yanked into a high-G turn, rolling hard, his plane screaming through the sky at an angle that should have stalled out lesser, greener pilots.

Alarms flared on Ellie’s screen, screamed in her ears, so loud she instinctively lifted the headset off one ear. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, already flipping through the diagnostics filling her screen, her fingers flying over keys to manually redistribute the generative thinking, fast.

“Hangman!” Rooster barked, his voice booming over the screaming of her tech in her ear. “You trying to rip your own wings off?”

“Relax Rooster,” even as Hangman grunted through another high-G cartwheel, strained against the force that pushed him back into the seat, Ellie could hear the playfulness in his tone, “just seeing if this fancy tech can keep up with me. So far, it’s keeping pace.”

Barely, Ellie thought, her mind scrambling as she worked through the manual controls, pulling the recalibration coding from the back of her mind as her heart threatened to pound right out of her chest. The system was compensating as best it could, shifting power away from instruments and recalibrating to track Hangman’s sharp, unexpected turns and dives, climbs and rolls. It was working—but Ellie could already see stress indicators creeping in, the red signals flickering in the corner of her screen, the warning signs of a catastrophic failure. She hadn’t coded the parameters today for bullshit. If Hangman kept pushing, he might overload the AI’s allocation process before it had the chance to adjust and provide the baseline she was looking for.

Her tech picked up Maverick on her screen as he joined in.

Maverick’s jet came in fast from above, dropping out of the sheltered glare of the sun like a streaking missile. Ellie could see the system flag Mav on Hangman’s HUD in an instant, feeding Hangman a collision path before Mav entered weapons range.

“Bogey incoming,” Ellie heard the AI voice warn in Hangman’s ear, on her end, she could see the system scanning, populating his HUD with information on the unknown aircraft.

“Yeah, no shit,” Hangman muttered. “Breaking left. You got eyes on him Rooster?”

He rolled hard to evade, dipping lower into the valley, barreling toward the 5,000-foot Hard Deck, forcing the system to compensate for rapid altitude changes, environmental shifts, and G-force strain all at once.

Bitching Betty dinged through the cockpit, through Ellie’s headset. Altitude. Altitude. Pull up. Pull up.

Ellie’s pulse ticked up as the warnings started going off again.

“Break right, Hangman.” Rooster was in through the comms now, “I’ll get tone if you’re out of the way.”

“Hangman, ease off,” Ellie cut through on the comms, her voice carefully controlled and calm but firm. She tried her best to keep the panic out of her tone, “You’re overloading the processing core. The AI needs time to redistribute resources, give it half a second to think and do what it’s there to do.”

“Sounds like a ‘me’ problem.” Hangman was into another roll, breaking right as Rooster’s jet streaked in to assist and Hangman tumbled into another evasive maneuver, Mav hot on his tail.

“It will be when you lose your radar feed,” Ellie shot back, around her the Control Tower Operators calmly diverted aircraft around the training area. “If you don’t—”

The screen flickered on Ellie’s end, the system’s red flashing code stuttering, reflecting the same blip on Hangman’s HUD on the top corner of her display.

A half-second glitch.

A data delay.

Not long enough to crash the system—but long enough to be dangerous if this were a live, life or death dogfight.

In her ear, Hangman cursed under his breath as Mav capitalized on the momentary hiccup, his jet screaming in with impossible speed, locking a missile tone before Hangman could fully react, adjust.

“That’s tone. Fox Two!” Mav’s voice cut through the comms, calm, collected.

A simulated missile strike. If this had been real, Hangman would be punching out right now.

The comms fell silent for a beat before Maverick’s voice came through, even and unreadable. “That’s a splash.”

Ellie let out a slow breath as the system regulated, the red indicators disappearing from her screen as the system isolated the issue and rerouted, recalibrated. The system had held. Barely—pushed into the red, hanging on by what seemed to be a simple line of code.

Hangman, to his credit, was quiet for a moment.

“Well,” Jake began, the huff of exertion from the laundry list of evasive maneuvers and the strain of the resulting G-force on his body, “guess I found the breaking point.”

Ellie pinched the bridge of her nose, the tips of her fingers turning white, closing her eyes to breathe out a noisy, measured breath.

“You found it immediately,” Rooster at least had the decency to sound as exasperated as Ellie felt.

Lover hummed in agreement. “Kinda impressive, Hangman, honestly. You always go around breaking your most expensive toys?”

Ellie exhaled sharply, evacuating all the air from her lungs before she breathed it in anew. Patience. She’d need to practice patience or take a vow of silence to keep herself in check. “Hangman, get back into formation. The rest of you, continue the test as planned. And for the love of fucking god, stick to the parameters this time.”

“Copy that,” Rooster said.

“Got it, Boss Lady,” Lover added, his voice light.

Teak, gruff as ever, just muttered, “Knew this was a bad idea.”

Hangman sighed, pulling his jet back in line. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave. For now.”

Ellie didn’t believe that for a second.

Ellie pushed open the control tower door with more force than necessary, so hard it swung back against the outer side of the building with a heavy slam as she stepped onto the sunbaked tarmac at a clipped pace. Her boots hit the pavement hard as she strode across the flight line, headset hanging loosely around her neck, her pulse still elevated from the way Hangman had handled the test.

She’d expected the first test flights to be bumpy. What she hadn’t been expecting was that the bumps might come from Hangman. After his tone in the briefing, Ellie had expected pushback from Teak, had been waiting for him to act out, but Jake? This was just him being a cocky son of a bitch, and she wasn’t about to let it slide. She couldn’t.

The rest of the test had gone according to plan, but the baseline readings had been skewed because of Hangman’s hadn’t followed instruction. Today had essentially been a wash for anything except for redline readings.

As she approached the line of jets, she threw her hand up to shield her eyes against the dipping sun, catching the last pilot climbing out of his jet—Rooster. He caught sight of her immediately, his pace shifting, angling himself in her path before she could storm clear across to the hangar and into the locker room and rip into Hangman in front of everyone.

“Cool it, Rigsy,” Rooster murmured, hands up in a peacekeeping gesture as he tracked backward while Ellie pushed forward. Against his 6’1 frame, Ellie looked small, and the wall of his body blocked her trajectory. “You look like you’re on the warpath.”

In the reflection of the aviators over his eyes, Ellie could see herself, eyes narrowed. “Move, Bradshaw.”

Rooster didn’t budge, shifting as Ellie tried to step around him when she realized he wasn’t going to clear the path. “Not until you take a breath, or maybe seven.”

Ellie let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, trust me, I’ll breathe just fine once I’ve had a word with Seresin.”

Rooster exhaled through his nose, arms folding across his chest as Ellie stopped abruptly. There was no way he was moving. Fleetingly, Ellie wondered if being stubborn was a requirement for flight school. “Yeah? And what exactly are you planning to say? Because from here, it looks like you’re about to walk in there and lose it in front of the entire locker room.”

Ellie clenched her jaw. “He went off-script, overloaded the system immediately. Forced it into a failure point before I could even establish a baseline. That’s not testing limits—that’s recklessness. You have to establish the baseline before you—”

Rooster shook his head. “That’s how he flies. You knew that.”

“That’s how an asshole flies,” she shot back, a flare of anger, not unlike the flickering lick of a solar flare, rising inside of her.

Rooster’s lips twitched, almost as if he might laugh, but in a moment, he was composed again, not taking the bait. His hands were on his hips now, helmet tucked neatly under an arm. “Look, I get it. Maybe better than anyone. He’s frustrating. He’s cocky. But he’s also one of the best pilots in the Navy, and trust me, you want him pushing this thing to its breaking point. Better him than someone out there getting shot at when the stakes are high.”

Ellie’s arms crossed tightly over her chest, the muscles of her jaw working to bite back the words she really wanted to say. It took her a moment, carefully choosing her words before she spoke again. “That’s not what this was about. He didn’t do that for the sake of the test. He did it to prove he could break it. That’s all he cares about—looking good, coming out on top. He doesn’t give a damn about the work that went into this.”

Rooster studied her for a long moment, his eyebrow quirked high. “That’s a lot of assuming for someone who works with provable theories and data sets for a living.” His jaw ticked as if he was clenching and unclenching. “You don’t know him.”

“And he doesn’t know me,” Ellie shot back. She wanted to say that Jake didn’t know what it was like for her, he didn’t know how many pieces of her life and her time and her blood, sweat and tears had gone into every fiber of this tech. She wanted to say that he didn’t know why she was doing this. Instead, she shifted her weight and tightened the fold of her arms across her body. She could be stubborn too—it practically ran in her DNA.

Rooster sighed, shifting his weight. “I guess you’d better get used to being pissed off then, because he’s not going anywhere.”

Ellie pressed her lips together, her frustration still simmering, but Rooster wasn’t done. “Look,” he said, more measured this time, “I told you before—Hangman will follow if you make it clear who’s in charge. But he’s got to respect you first. And right now? You’re just reacting to him. He pushes; you push back. Wash, rinse, repeat until you both die. He thrives on that. I tried it that way. It doesn’t work.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes, studying Rooster for a moment, before she rolled her eyes and threw her hands up. “And what exactly do you suggest? That I just let him run the show?”

Rooster shook his head. “No. I’m saying he’s testing you just as much as he’s testing the system. You want to keep him in check? Show him you can handle him.”

Ellie’s fingers twitched at her sides. She hated that he had a point, hated even more that Hangman would probably enjoy knowing just how much he was getting under her skin. It took a measured breath and a focused thought with intent to push down the anger into her toes. “How do you suggest I do that?”

Rooster shifted his weight, as if he were trying to pull something out of his hat. “Maybe start by coming out tonight?”

Ellie huffed, the sun starting to heat the back of her neck uncomfortably. She didn’t shoot it down right away and so, likely sensing an in, he continued.

“Hard Deck. Might help your case if the guys see you as something other than what they’re pegging you for now.”

Ellie arched a brow, she didn’t want to engage Rooster right now, she hated that her anger was ebbing away, if only slightly. She hated that there were politics she had to play into to get her tech where it needed to be. “Oh? And what exactly are they pegging me for now?”

At that, Rooster smiled. Ellie knew Rooster knew her well enough by now to see that her anger was dissolving. “A mysterious, tech-obsessed hard-ass who spends too much time in her office and not enough time pretending to be human. Also, someone trying to make their lives harder.” Ellie huffed a laugh despite herself, shaking her head. “Great. Love that for me. Is it terminal, doctor?”

“Not entirely, it’s fixable at this stage,” Rooster teased as she watched his shoulders relax. “Couple rounds at the Hard Deck, let ‘em see you’re not a soulless drone, and suddenly you’re one of us. I’ve seen you with Nic, I know you can be fun, or at least fun-adjacent.”

She gave him a skeptical look, choosing to ignore the comment about her being fun. “I don’t think drinking beer with you guys is going to make Hangman and Teak be any less of pains in my ass.” “No, but it might make Teak less of a pain in my ass if he stops thinking you’re some uptight, out-of-touch scientist trying to change the way he flies,” Rooster pointed out. “Might be worth it.” Ellie exhaled, considering. “What about Hangman?”

“You mean the way he flies or the way he’s been trying to flirt you into submission since he laid eyes on you?”

Ellie felt her stomach dip and she took a careful, measured swallow. “Both.”

“Not sure that’s curable.” Rooster hissed, perfect bedside manner for delivering a terminal prognosis.

Ellie huffed and set her hands on her hips. She wasn’t the type to care what pilots thought of her—she built tech to save their lives, not to win their approval. But Rooster had a point. If she wanted them to trust her system, they had to trust her first. “Alright,” she said finally, pushing back from her desk. “One drink. But if any of them start talking about ‘mansplainy’ shit, I’m out.” Rooster nodded, the grin on his face. “Fair deal.” Rooster waited for a beat, stepped back and waited another, as if he were testing to see if Ellie might sprint past him on her way to the locker room anyway. When she didn’t move, he offered her a small wave and turned, stalking down the tarmac and peeling parts of his flight gear off as he did so.

As his figure shrunk, Ellie sighed and rubbed her temples. Great. Now she had to go pretend to be human.

a/n: i mean, does ellie even have a mom/dad with wolfman and mav stepping in? not me cackling as i imagine wolfman in an apron making scrambled eggs, terribly. anyone wanna crack that with fanart? haha

if you love this series, reblog, comment, like! chapter 5, the technical ending of this chapter will be up tomorrow!

tags: @hookslove1592 @mrsevans90 @avengersfan25 @jbennsquared @dempy

@obsessed-fan-alert @djs8891 @lunatygerqueen @khouse712 @alipap3

@yuckosworld @marvelouslyme96 @luckyladycreator2 @lovelylndskies @cardi-bre91

@whatislovevavy @qutequeersstuff @tgmreader @writergirl28 @literal-tv-menace

@queenslandlover-93 @fantasyfootballchampion @marrianena

taglist if you want to be added/removed!

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the0p · 2 months ago

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letters

based off of "to all the boys I loved before" cuse YES I AM A LOSER LIKE THAT FIGHT ME. mlm, fluff, and some spice?? very long story also a bit of a size thing going on cuse...yeah.

I sat on the floor of my bedroom writing yet another letter to a guy I had complicated feelings towards.

it was a recurring patern in my life as the moment I shared something special with someone instead of telling them my feelings I'd write them down on a piece of paper and trow it in a box I kept under my bed.

it was a bit pathetic for sure, but can you blame me? love has never worked out for me before, so I much rather admire from a distance.

this letter was addressed to a guy in my school.

Jeong Yunho.

back in 6rd grade, me, him, and some other friends had a small party where we played spin the bottle. at the time a friend of mine had a crush on him that I knew about, so I begged for the bottle not to land on him, but of course it did. I was hesitant, but nonetheless, we shared a short, small kiss, which was my first. safe to say me and her are not on good terms even till this day.

the cringe letter was finished, and I folded it up nicely, putting it in an envelope and writing down his name on it before throwing it in the box and sliding it under my bed.

I didn't think much of it knowing they couldn't get out, so I chose to go to bed for the night.

in the morning, I rushed to the kitchen, my sister sitting on the sofa on her phone, ready to go as I ran around looking for my laptop.

"we'll be late, you know." she said, looking at me from the sofa standing up, trowing her bag over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, okay, i just can't find my computer. can you go back to my room and look? maybe I missed it. please?" I asked her with a pleading look, hoping she'd go check, and thankfully, with an annoyed groan, she agreed.

she came back after a few minutes computer in hand. "it was by your bed, clothes trown over it."

"Thank you so much." I said, taking it from her and rushing out the door to my car, her following not too far behind me.

the school day passed by normally. the usual boring classes until lunch period hit.

I never ate in the cafeteria as it was way too crowded for me, so I always camped out in the bathroom eating and scrolling through my phone. sure it wasn't the most sanitary thing to do, but it was quiet.

as I was enjoying my lunch devouring a sandwich I made in a rush I heard the door open a familiar voice coming trough.

"y/n? you in here?" it was yunho. I was confused about why he was looking for me, but I didn't make a sound, wanting him to leave in all honesty. I brought my legs up so he couldn't see which stall I was in, but sadly, my phone fell out of my lap as I did so making a lot of noise.

I knew he heard as he knocked on the door. I didn't answer until he slid my letter under the door.

my heart dropped.

I quickly put my things in my bag, stuffing the sandwich in my mouth, and opened the door.

"how did you get that?" I asked my words a bit muffled thanks to the food.

he stumbled back as I opened the door, putting one hand into his jean pocket.

"I found it in my locker this morning. you didn't put it there?" he asked obviously a but confused.

I was panicking. the thought of him knowing how I felt about him was one of my biggest nightmares. I shook my head, no trying to figure out how he could have gotten it and if any of the other guys got it.

he must have picked up on the panic "your hand writing is nice. I'm actually quite flattered you think of me this way."

his words caught me off guard. was he playing, or was he for real?

"Look, you were never supposed to get it. just forget about it, okay?"

"What if I feel the same way? do I still forget about it?"

I stayed quiet, staring at him, not expecting anything like that to come out of his mouth. he sighed, putting the letter in his bag and turning his attention back to me.

"it's actually a bit funny how you never picked up on any of the signs. I don't just go around the school campus trying to strick up a conversation, give compliments, and try to hang out with random people, but you seem quite oblivious."

the last sentence struck a bit of a nerve. "I'm not obliviou-"

my words were cut off by a pair of soft lips on mine. I was shocked, eyes wide in surprise, tho slowly I calmed down and returned the kiss my hand making its way to his cheek.

he pulled away first, both of us silent as we registered what we (he) just did.

he opened his mouth to say someone, but the bell rang, signalling us that lunch was over.

I pulled away, clearing my throat, and my ears a bit red from embarrassment.

"Let's talk after school, okay? we can meet you back here...if you want, of course."

he nodded the sweet smile on his face that I always adored. "See you then"

...........time skip............

I stood in the bathroom waiting for him. I was a bit scared he would end up not showing up, but I tried to have a bit of hope. my sister decided to go hang out with her friends after school. I didn't really have anything to rush.

20 minutes had passed, and he was still not here. it was upsetting, but somehow, I wasn't too surprised, so I just chose to leave. I got home relatively late as I had stopped at the store to get some food since our fridge was very empty.

my sister was already home sprawled out on the sofa watching a movie as I placed the bags on the kitchen counter.

"How was school?" I asked, glancing at her. for some reason, she was avoiding all eye contact and seemed a bit on edge.

"it was okay. how about you...?"

"it was...interesting, to say the least." I responded, putting the food away as she nodded and stayed quiet.

Once everything was done, I went into my room and instantly checked the box that I kept my letters in. the rest where there but the one yunho got. I instantly knew my sister must have done it in the morning. I wasn't mad, tho since maybe she even did some good?

I sighed and changed, choosing to put my homework off for a bit and relax for a bit to decompose everything that happened today.

it was calm for a while. silent even. until my sister barged in practically braking my door down as I quickly sat up from my bed worried that something had happened. i looked her way, a mischievous smile on her face as she pushed yunho inside my room.

wait, yunho!?

he stood there an awkward smile on his face as he looked around and back at my sister, who closed the door quickly.

"use protection!!" were her last words before she left us there.

I got up quickly and started picking up my clothes, throwing them in my closet to make the place some what clean.

"Hi yunho, I wasn't really expecting anyone, so it's a bit messy"

he laughed and took off his coat, placing it on my dresser that was by the door looking around the room. "it's okay. I did show up without a warning."

I hummed fixing myself up as well to not look too much of a mess.

"I'm sorry that I didn't show up today. I got held back in class. I promise I didn't do it on purpose."

his words seemed honest, and his face had regret written all over it. he walked closer to me, towering over me thanks to his height.

"I couldn't have even texted you a heads up cuse I don't have your number, and I'm so sorry"

I let him finish staying quiet. I had figured as much cuse he didn't seem like the type of person to do something like that. Once he was done, I just kissed him.

I didn't know I had the guts to do something like that but I was glad I did as he returned the kiss immediately his hands finding their way to my waist as mine wrapped around his neck pulling him down slightly.

it got a bit heated surprisingly enough, which I wasn't expecting.

we had moved to my bed making out. it was obvious to both of us that we've been wanting each other for a very long time as things wouldn't be going this far otherwise.

his hands moved up my legs. As I pulled away, taking his shirt off, pulling him back into the kiss, we were both getting desperate, but sadly, we got interrupted by my sister.

she came in, completely ignoring the sight in front of her, and sat down on my bed, throwing her homework next to us.

"help me." is all she said.

me and yunho were both very embarrassed, but nonetheless, we stopped what we were doing and both ended up helping her.

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bsd-yokohama · 30 days ago

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Sᴛᴏᴘ Wᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ – Sᴛᴀʀᴛ Pʟᴀʏɪɴɢ!

𝑀𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑜𝑘𝑜ℎ𝑎𝑚𝑎 𝐴𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒

Alright, let’s talk about it: Everyone keeps complaining that no one interacts, but at the same time, the only thing I see is "interact with me/my blog" and then? Nothing...

So, instead of just shouting into the void, why not write what you actually want? Angst? Fluff? Silly moments? Drama? Long-term arcs? Just say it, and people will know how to approach you!

1. Use the Resources Available!

I have already built multiple blogs to help people interact, but they only work if you use them!

→ The @bsd-rp-masterlist sorts everyone by organization, AU, etc. It’s literally designed for you to find people easily!

Example: "I have an OC in the ADA. Let’s check who else is there and start a conversation!"

The Masterlist also collects independent characters: consider recruiting them into organizations or even founding your own! If you see someone missing, help me find and add them!

→ @bsd-yokohama: This isn’t just a generic rp setting. It’s a city I carefully mapped out based on BSD’s unique version of Yokohama. Many places in BSD don’t exist in real life, so I used Google Street View to find the location where it could be and marked them accordingly. I’ve included key spots from the series and made sure to create a city that feels immersive and alive. Use it to place your character in specific locations and build natural interactions!

→ @bsd-bdays helps you check who has a birthday coming up so you can throw maybe an rp party!

2. Let’s Make the World Feel Alive

We all live in the same city. Why don’t we act like it? If we were actually in Yokohama, we wouldn’t just sit at home screaming "Interact with me!" and then sulk when nothing happens. We’d go out and do things. So let’s create events and shared moments:

I already made 2 missions, but I also want to introduce city-wide events. And not just any events, but events that make your characters feel real. What are they passionate about? What skills or professions do they have? Let’s bring that into the city!

→ A writer could host a book reading or a literary discussion at a café.

→ A painter might hold a vernissage at the Yokohama Museum of Art.

→ A detective character could get involved in solving a high-profile case.

→ A journalist might uncover a major scandal.

→ A chef could organize a ramen contest.

→ A scientist might present a breakthrough discovery.

→ A local bar could host a karaoke night that gets wildly out of hand.

Think outside the box! Yokohama isn’t just a backdrop! It’s a city waiting to be lived in. If you have an idea that could work as a mission or a city-wide event, tell me (@bsd-yokohama)! I’d love to incorporate it!

3. Small Groups & Social Bonds

Something I love from Vampire the Masquerade (which I rp in real life as pen&paper) is forming small groups, "coteries", even across enemy factions:

→ Why not have an ADA, Port Mafia, and Guild member who always meet at the cemetery for goth picnics?

→ Or create independent gangs, new organizations, or just a group of friends who always hang out at the same bar?

Think beyond basic interactions – build something that lasts!

4. Get Out There & RP!

Lᴇᴛ’s sᴛᴏᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʏᴄʟᴇ ᴏғ ғʀᴜsᴛʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ sᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ.

Yᴏᴋᴏʜᴀᴍᴀ ɪs ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ! 🔥

Much love,

Tilsk

#mod rants #motivation #motivational speech #bsd rp #bsd yokohama #roleplay #bsd #bsd rp yokohama #bungo stray dogs #roleplayblog #bsd rp blog #bsd rp community #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs rp

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 1 year ago

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candlelight 🕯️

hii it’s me again! congratulations on 1k!! i’ve thinking about this recently (a lot) because im seriously in my miguel ohara kick🥰

but can you do shy & nerdy reader with popular miguel who are dating?? he adores making her flustered and how shy she is.

he makes her ask for his help because he knows how badly she needs him? because she’s just so stressed out about school and stuff? as always if you’re not comfortable writing totally ignore this! this is my first time requesting smut so i don’t know if it’s silly or not! but if you write it i know you’ll do good by it bc ur such an amazing writer😌

-🎀

hiiii, thank you so much!! and thank you for requesting! ahhh, i'm so thrilled you asked for miguel; i was dying to write him and probably will more, especially if people want; i hope you like it! i hope i got enough of the request in here

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader word count: 2.2k notes: modern au, established relationship, fluff, smut (i'm going to keep with marking where it gets smutty, though, bc it's like a full fluff fic before any smut, for those who only want the fluff; MDNI!) part of my 1k celebration!

for anyone who doesn’t speak spanish, i don't want translations to be annoying in the middle or for you to have to scroll to the end, so thought putting them here was best: mi amor / amor mío: my love / literally something like love of mine but works more like emphasis cariño: term of endearment kind of like dear, literally affection mami: another term of endearment, more often cheeky or sexier descansa: rest dime: tell me que maravilla: a joke from the movie, literally what a marvel / wonder, kind of like how wonderful or even just amazing hope i didn't miss any others

The phone buzzing beside you startles you almost completely out of your chair. Coffee makes you jumpy. An entire pot in one night makes you… suspect what you’d be like on cocaine. You’d thought you’d put it on silent. No phone till at least one paper is done, you’d told yourself. Finals had you reeling, and you were desperate to make some progress. When you grab your phone, you see a text from Miguel:

You take your headphones off, and sure enough, a moment later hear a knock at the door. You open it to a Miguel in loose sweatpants and hoodie, dark hair messy, gym bag slung over one shoulder. Even these clothes could do nothing to hide the impressive broadness of his shoulders.

“Hey, baby,” he says through a bright smile. He kisses your cheek and steps into the apartment. “I know you were trying to focus, but I was getting worried.” “Sorry, I had my headphones on; the neighbors were being too loud again, and I really needed to focus.” “No, not the waiting at your door, mi amor. I’m talking about all of… this,” he gestures wildly around the apartment then his gaze lands on you. “Those dishes were there when I was here days ago, and even though I’m pretty sure adding anything to that tower would topple it, you haven’t. When’s the last time you ate?” “I ha—“ you begin to retort, but he cuts you off. “And I mean real food.” You start again but just give up and shrug. “And you.” He steps close to you and frames your face with his hands. You lean into his touch as he caresses your face. “Baby, you know I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, right?” You blush and look down immediately.

It used to be worse, before you got together. When you were confused about his even noticing you, and instead he’d flirted with you. Even now that he was your boyfriend, it took very little from him to fluster you.

He can’t help but chuckle at your reaction. He always does.

“Don’t you? My gorgeous,” he kisses one warm cheek, “gorgeous,” he kisses the other, “girl,” he gives your nose a concluding peck.

You nod shyly. “C’mon, cariño. Tell me,” he encourages, his tone still teasing but ever adoring. “I want to hear it." “I know you think I’m pretty,” you whisper. “Pretty? No, amor mío, I think flowers and bright colors are pretty; the ocean or a view of the mountains, too. But you, you are beauty personified.” “Miguel, stop,” you whisper through the smile you can’t help, hiding your face in his chest. He laughs lightly. His hand comes to your hair and scratches lovingly.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew that.” He gives your forehead a kiss. “Before I told you you look terrible, baby.” He starts laughing loudly and holds you closer into his hug when you smack his chest and try to pull away.

“That’s so mean!” gets muffled into his sweatshirt. “It’s not mean; it’s true. You’re still beautiful, but you need a break.” “I can’t, Miguel. I’m drowning in work still, and you know being sick last week really got me behind, and it feels like no matter how long I sit there, I’m no closer to finishing anything, and you’re right my apartment is falling apart, but every time I do something else I feel guilty for stalling on work, and, and —“

Before you can find another overwhelming thing to list, Miguel is hushing you and stroking your back in his warm embrace.

“Breathe, baby, breathe.” He sways you lightly then pulls back a bit to look into your eyes. His hands are caressing your face again, and his fingers brush lightly under your eyes, where you know there are dark circles, as he whispers, “You haven’t slept.” He sounds sad rather than accusatory.

“Okay,” he starts softly. “Look, I know how much you have on your plate, and I’m not telling you you’re wrong to be stressed. I get it. But you can’t get it done like this, running on fumes and caffeine. How about this? I’m going to help you relax tonight, you’re going to forget about everything you have to do, you’re going to sleep well, and then tomorrow morning you’ll get back to it all.” “I’m fine, really. You don’t need to worry about me. And I’ll rest after finals.” Just then a car horn blares near your window, making you jump cartoonishly. “Yeah, you seem totally fine,” Miguel deadpans teasingly. “There’s nothing wrong with taking some time, Y/N… And accepting a little a help, okay?”

You nod lightly. “Great,” he gives you a quick peck and moves toward your kitchen, hunting around your barren fridge and cabinets. “Here’s the game plan then. You are going to put on your favorite playlist then go take a warm shower for as long as you like. Your kitchen is as empty as your stomach, so I am going to run down the street to pick up some empanadas then I’ll work on cleaning up this war zone a little bit when I get back.”

“You don’t have to clean.” “Stop fighting me,” he tsks. “Besides you know I don’t mind cleaning. I’m glad I’m not hearing complaints about the food at least,” he laughs. “I love empanadas,” you whisper defeatedly. He cackles. “Who doesn’t?” He kisses you as he moves past you toward the door. “Be back soon. No working! I expect you in the shower when I get back.” You quirk an eyebrow teasingly at him. You were still too shy to say anything teasing, but he’d been working you out of your shell during your time together. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t really like that aspect of being with Miguel.

His eyebrows mimic yours, and he chuckles lowly. “Don’t give me that look, mami, or you’re not getting me out the door, and you’ll miss out on the empanadas.”

You pull the neck of your shirt up to cover your face, making him laugh. You hear him bound back over to you from the door. He pulls your shirt back down, gives you a short but intense kiss, then heads out.

Miguel is back before you know it. You are in fact in the shower when you hear him return. You’re already rinsing, but you linger a little longer, enjoying the feeling of the warm water easing the stresses off your tense body.

When you leave your room to join him again, you’re immediately hit with the delicious smell of food. You see it resting on the counter and find Miguel washing your dishes.

You come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his firm torso, resting your head on his back. “Hola, cariño,” he coos. “I’m almost done.” You nod into him, humming.

When he finishes up, he turns in your arms, bringing his own large ones around you. He leans down and kisses you softly. “Hungry?”

You nod enthusiastically, and he chuckles.

You opt to eat on the sofa, getting comfy. Miguel does most of the talking. Between how tired and how hungry you are, you don’t have the energy or available mouth to talk much. He doesn’t seem to mind, happy to regale you with his silly stories.

When you finish, Miguel cleans up, holding you down and giving you a faux menacing look when you try to get up to help.

When he comes back, he settles much closer to you than he had been before. You relish his warmth, physical and emotional, and lean into him.

“Turn around,” he whispers.

“Hm?” “Like this.” He adjusts your body so you’re facing away from him and starts massaging your shoulders. You hadn’t realized just how tense you were until the amazing feeling of its being relieved somewhat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ NSFW beyond this point ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Miguel,” you exhale approvingly, earning a chuckle.

“I like it when you say my name like that.” He leans in and whispers into your ear, his breath tickling the back of your neck deliciously, “Reminds me of other times you end up whining my name.”

It’s shocking how quickly he works you up. You turn to look at him, and when you do, his expression shifts from teasing to intrigued.

“Oh?” he asks. He smirks. “I know that look.” He leans in and kisses your neck sloppily, and you whimper. You’re embarrassed at the sound, but he seems to like it. You feel him smile against the skin under your jaw. “I’m more than happy to give you what you want, but I need to know what that is to give it to you.” His voice is much lower but just as mischievous.

“Miguel,” you complain. “Dime, mi amor.”

“I —“ Any other words get caught in your throat. Your throat he’s busy sucking on.

“Please, baby. C’mon, I know you can. Tell me what you want.” He runs his teeth along your neck like he knows you like. You often joke he feels like he has fangs when he does. “I want you,” you tell him.

“Yeah?” “Mhm…”

“I’m yours, mami. How do you want me?”

“I want you to make me feel good.” “Oh, I’ll make you feel good. I’ll make you feel so, so good.” He punctuates his words with kisses, working his way up your neck, your jaw, your mouth. “Tell me how,” he whispers, and you feel his lips grazing yours with each word.

You want to relax, and you know exactly what relaxes you the most. “I want you to eat me out.”

His eyebrows jump in surprise. Such directness was unlike you. Your exhaustion was probably weakening your filter, and the way he was already making you feel certainly wasn’t helping it. You almost get shy about it, but when you see just how dark his eyes have gotten, see his Adam’s apple bob and his bottom lip come between his teeth, you keep yourself from shrinking away. He nods slowly, staring deeply into your eyes, then kisses you hard. “Get naked,” he says gruffly.

Already starting to do as he says, you weakly whisper, “You too?” He chuckles lightly but obliges quickly.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing him like this. He’s so beautiful. His broad chest and toned abs; his caramel skin and dark hair.

You look back at his face and find he’s noticed you staring at his body. He’s so confident, you think he’s going to tease you about it. Instead, with an adoring smile, he tells you, “That’s how I feel when I see you, too.” You lean up and kiss him, pouring all the emotions you can’t articulate in words into it.

Without disconnecting your lips, his body guides yours back down until you’re completely prone. He keeps kissing you until you’re breathless, lovingly attends to your neck and down your chest. He lingers there, his tongue making you arch your back, pushing your body up into the sensations he’s delivering. He sucks harder at your visceral reaction then hotly finishes his path down, his face now aligned between your thighs.

He looks at you intently and whispers, “Que maravilla.”

He looks up at you, eyes black storms you lose yourself in as his mouth connects with your body.

From your delightful vantage point, you watch his muscular shoulders contort as he moves to pleasure you. He looks like he’s thoroughly enjoying it, and seeing him so into it gives you confidence. You start subtly moving your hips in rhythm with his motions. His hands tighten where they hold your thighs, and, mortified, you interpret this as his telling you to stay still, so you do.

Then Miguel shakes his head hard — the vibrations of which shoot shocking pleasure into you — and he pants, “Keep doing that. Show me how you want it.” His strong grip pushes and pulls you in a movement close to what you were just doing. You take over and move faster. He’s nodding now, and the shake of it has your thighs shaking on either side of his head.

You’re making loud whimpering sounds when you yell, “Mi — ahh — Migueeell.” He doubles his efforts, picking up his pace and pressing hard against you. You come on his face, and he looks feral as he eats you through it. When you’re done, he licks up your entire slit before shuffling his body back over yours. You’re chest to chest, and his hand comes up to stroke your head. “Good?”

Your cheeks warm, and you nod shyly. He giggles and gives you a peck. “You’re adorable, mi amor.”

Your legs feel delightfully like jelly as you move them, wrapping them around his waist. He hums approvingly and gives one thigh a tight squeeze, pulling it impossibly closer to his body. He begins stroking it as he kisses you lazily. Your hands entwine in his thick hair, stroke his strong back, hold him close.

When he shifts his weight slightly on top of you, you notice his hardness against your body.

“You want me to…” you whisper, thrusting your hips up into his in place of words.

“Uh-uh, maybe in a little bit, baby, but for right now, I just want you to relax.”

He continues kisses you languidly, enveloping you in his body heat, and as you close your eyes and melt into the sensations, you’re sure you’re going to have no trouble sleeping soundly tonight.

#miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel ohara imagine #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara fanfiction #across the spiderverse #1k celebration #ria1k

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sereinreality · 3 months ago

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making a luis lives au and having it lead up to re6 so i just want to write down my ideas so far

- ada saves him without a shadow of a doubt. somehow, someway, she gets him off the island and takes him to a hospital to heal while she spends those next couple of months making plans. when luis is properly healed, she would offer one of two options; either work with her or she’ll leave him some things but they have to keep little to no contact. luis obviously goes for the first choice.

- they definitely bond over the course of time they work together from re5 to re6. i like to think their similar backgrounds, history, and goals bring them closer together. luis would always try to find a reason to throw festivities, he’s very insistent on celebrating ada’s birthday or any holiday.

- luis’s nickname for ada is “mariposa” she rolls her eyes every time he says it but she genuinely loves it

- they do a lot of moving around which means time to kill and lots of stories. luis likes to play a game where he tells a story and ada has to guess wether it actually happened or he just made it up. most of the time he’s lying but argues “you never know! maybe someday it will be true!” it makes ada smile. luis tries to make her smile as often as he can.

- luis didn’t change in terms of making jokes. he figures there’s no point in falling to despair when you’ve been given your last chance so he makes the most of it. it annoyed ada at first, thinking that luis wasn’t taking this seriously but upon closer inspection, she realized he’s grown way more cautious than before. she excused some of the teasing after that but never backed down from some back and forth

- ada and luis are like soulmates in the way that they are two sides of the same coin. where there’s one, you’ll find the other. they are connected by coincidence but they treasure it. more than anything, it’s a deep understanding between them. everything they did to survive, to get out of their respective situations, the choices they made, and the loneliness they felt. luis swears that as long as he lives, ada will never feel alone again. ada says likewise. both of them mean it with their whole heart.

- under NO circumstances can leon learn that luis survived. it’s a depressing truth they both understand that if leon got the smallest hint of luis’s survival that he would begin a manhunt to find him. they have too much work being carried out that cannot be compromised. that doesn’t stop luis from searching for leon’s name in government files or papers, he keeps up to date with anything where he’s involved. what can he say? the knight misses his prince.

- that being said leon does not handle post valdelobos very well. he still has luis’s lab key which he keeps in a box tucked away somewhere. sometimes the smell of smoke brings him back to spain and the mines where he lost someone he’s grown so close to in just a small amount of time. it shouldn’t break him as much as it does but it’s something that stays in the back of his mind. leon feels like he missed something. that there was an opportunity open to him that he failed to see, it could have been something but now he’ll never know. the door shut in his face just when leon realized what was being offered to him.

- once he saw don quixote displayed on a bookstore window with a lovely red cover and bought it immediately. it sits on his shelf collecting dust, leon hasn’t had time to read it or so he says.

- the trio do reunite in re6 but more importantly, luis catches wind of some of the stunts leon had been pulling and their first interaction after years was luis marching up to leon as he backs into a wall. luis is shouting in spanish, probably complaining about leon not prioritizing his own safety, then switching to english so he can yell in a language leon understands. it was here that he catches leon’s face. he’s so much older now, worn out like leather. leon looked exhausted but he also seemed so amazed? confused? whatever it was, he looked softer now and his eyes widen a little. he simply says, “you’re alive?”

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #ada wong #luis serra #luis serra navarro #re4r #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil 6 #re6 #serennedy #platonic serrawong #WHEW that got longer than i thought #i figured i just get my ideas out because idk how long this fixation will last #not taking any chances #rebel rambles

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theharrowing · 23 days ago

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White Lies 3: There you are

Yoongi is everything you could ask for. He is attractive, confident, and smart. And his partner Taehyung is as possessive as he is beautiful. Too bad a relationship would be a major conflict of interest.

You need to have them, at all costs.

🤍 Yoongi x Female Reader x Taehyung

🤍 word count: 9k + screencaps of conversations

🤍 college au, cop au, partial social media au with a lot of written story, strangers to lovers & established relationship, yandere, hurt/comfort, smut, fluff, angst, slash, poly, minor character injury & death, graphic violence, nsfw, 21+.

🤍 warnings: the morning after being drugged (forensics test is done, see more info in note below). kissing, phone sex (sort of), masturbation (sort of), semi-explicit thoughts. mc is a bit of a mess but she's our mess. 😤

🤍 note: wow hi sorry for the 16 months in between updates 😅 to say life has been hectic is an understatement. reminder: mc's fake name is Sandra. she won't be called this throughout the entire fic but we are still establishing relationships. also Taehyung & Yoongi have all kinds of aliases for now - that will also change soon. hang in there!!! i had to redo all the screencaps for the earlier chapters and while doing so i reworded some messages & provided a little more context, so if you feel like you want a refresher, go check those chapters out! Josie's character calls mc "bella" which is pronounced like "beya".

🤍 also note: mc has a forensics examination done to test for sexual assault. in the biz/true crime media it's called a rape kit. this is done off screen and there are not a lot of details provided but if you still feel the need to skip those bits, please do so. 💜 your safety comes first. i can happily tell you any details you might miss in those bits if you want, you can even dm me on anon and ask. this goes for any possible triggers in anything i write.

🤍 this is a sequel to Boy Blue! i highly recommend that you start at the beginning!!!

🤍 beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🤍 posted april 2025 | read on ao3

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

Waking up with a splitting headache is cause enough for concern, but sitting up in your bed and realizing you have no idea how you got here or what time it is, is worse. Instantly, your body goes into panic mode, tensing up and taking inventory of any aches and pains, trying to determine what it went through.

As you sit up some pretty stark hints begin to reveal themselves. For one, you are fully clothed. Both of your phones are with you – one on your pillow and the other in your pocket – and your purse is on your bedside table along with a full glass of water.

You remember sharing a drink with Cody and then the details become fuzzy. There is a split moment in your memory where you think you can picture yourself standing in front of a soda dispenser holding onto tiny paper cups filled with ketchup, but when did you go to a place with ketchup? And were you alone?

You reach for the phone that is on your pillow to see what it can offer in terms of hints. Two calls were received from an unknown number at 10:49 and at 11:24. The first of the two calls was not answered but the other one was, and you were on the call for just under three minutes.

Could that have been Cody? But why was he calling you?

You sit up and fish your actual phone from your pocket. Seokjin has already sent a text this morning and you bypass it for now; it is still early enough that you can feign being asleep while you continue to sort this mess out. In fact, your 8:00 alarm still has ten minutes before it goes off, giving you plenty of time to go into detective mode before your 10:20 class this morning.

You open up the app that monitors both your doorbell camera and the camera that is tucked away in your living room bookshelf, and you select the last capture that was made from your hallway at 11:25. The video that pops up makes your heart sink.

Closing your apartment door, with his head down enough that his black baseball hat obstructs his face, is Cody. The camera captures him saying, "I have left your humble abode," before he turns and walks to the stairs.

What was Cody doing at your apartment? You only had two drinks and a shot; how could you have gotten so drunk that you forgot about this?

You select the second to last clip and sure enough, there you are stepping up to the door with your head tipped forward, muttering, "Thank you. Small gold key." Cody unlocks your apartment door and then you both enter.

This feels wrong. Your hands tremble as you back out of this camera and select the one in the living room. It is a little more sensitive to motion and sound, and you are unsurprised when you click on the last video and it is eight minutes long.

In the footage the two of you enter the apartment – you stumbling over your steps and him as calm and collected as can be. You kick out of your boots, flinging them to the side while propping yourself against the wall, and he has a hand on your arm to keep you steady, then he toes from his sneakers, saying, “Just want to get you a glass of water, okay?”

You are the first to hobble away, in the direction of your bedroom. Cody pulls his phone from his pocket, thumbs around like he is sending a message, and then his phone's flashlight comes on, shining directly into the camera but not bright enough to obstruct the image of him. He looks up as if surprised by the mistake, muttering, "Shit," as he pans his phone left to right rather quickly, and then he shuts it off and walks deeper into the apartment. Your heart pounds as he disappears from the frame and you listen intently for whatever comes next.

It is a relief when you hear the kitchen sink running, then you hear the sound of a cabinet door closing. The water shuts off and you hear the faint sounds of footsteps, followed by seconds of silence and then distant voices. Although you are unable to make out what the two of you say from the end of the hallway – presumably from your bedroom – you are able to pick up on the tone of your voice, which is even and calm. His voice is too soft and deep to hear clearly.

Minutes pass and then footsteps can be heard coming back down the hallway. You think that you can hear him say, "It was nice meeting you, Sandra," and then he comes into frame speaking into his phone. This must be the second phone call.

"Sorry the night ended this way," he says as he continues to the front door. “If you ever want drinks and a burger again let me know. I’m just a short cab ride away.”

He steps into his shoes as he speaks, wiggling his heel into place. Then he reaches for the front door, opens it, and hovers. You watch as he stands perfectly still for a couple of seconds and then turn back around. His gaze appears to be scanning the room, but for what, you are unable to say. And although you know that the camera is hidden well within your bookshelf, you could swear he looks into it and stares for just another second. Then he turns back around, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out your keys. He hangs them onto a hook and then walks out, quietly shutting the door behind him.

"What the fuck?" you mutter under your breath.

Something about this night is not right and you immediately thumb through your phone and dial Josie. She should be on her way to the lab right now and you hope that she is alone.

Josie picks up on the third ring. "Good morning, sunshine!"

"Josie," you mutter, squeezing your eyes closed. "Can you…fuck. Do you think you can do a blood test for me?"

Through a chuckle, Josie asks, "A blood test?"

"And maybe a urine test? I think I was drugged last night."

"Whoa whoa, slow down," Josie says, voice laced with concern. "What happened? Did you meet what's-his-face on a date?"

"Vante, no. I didn't meet him. I mean, I went to meet him but I think he stood me up." You sound frantic, and as you speak, sweat pools on your forehead and palms. "I ended up chatting with some other guy instead and we shared a drink and a shot, but I blacked out."

"I mean, you are a lightweight," she chides, making you chuckle nervously. This is Josie's way: to tease you until you feel less frantic. And it works. Your shoulders drop and you shake your head, letting out a deep breath.

"I know,” you laugh somewhat forcefully, allowing the faintest of smiles. "But this is different. I swear I didn't drink very much. I wasn't out for more than a few hours but I know I nursed my drinks. And we only had one shot."

"Have you told Seokjin?"

You grimace, feeling awkward as you admit, "No."

Josie hums, then says, "I'm actually not at the lab right now. Special Victims needed me to process something for one of their cases, but they have me over in Queens for the day."

"Shit," you mutter, feeling hopeless.

"Oh, I know! I'll call the nurse at your school and speak with them. I'll tell them that you have already met with a case worker about getting a forensics kit done and let them know that you will be coming in. They should be able to get you situated. I will swing by on my way back to the office in a few hours and take care of it for you."

Although you are certain you were not assaulted, you agree with Josie's offer to have a full forensics kit done, which includes a rather thorough examination. You just hope that you will be able to keep it all under wraps and that nothing will be reported to any of the higher-ups. You are not one hundred percent clear about who on campus knows that you are an agent and who thinks you are a student. As far as you have been able to glean, only the dean has spoken in a way that suggests he is in on it. But part of keeping your persona in check is not actively seeking confirmation that someone is unaware; you operate as if everyone is.

Still, it is too good of an offer to pass up. "Thanks, lovely," you say with a smile.

"Anything for you, bella," Josie sing-songs, making you smile even harder.

You say your goodbyes and get ready for the day. In case something happened last night, you keep the same clothing and underwear on but swap your flannel for a warm oversized blue sweater. You also pack a pair of underwear to change into once the examination is complete.

Then you think of something to tell your boss.

For a Wednesday morning campus is packed. There is some sort of event in the quad with live music and various tables that appear covered in informative brochures and colorful freebies, but you are disinterested in what is happening. Likely, it is something to get students excited for exams, with snacks and plastic trinkets to brighten their moods. You swerve through groups of students and head straight toward the nurse's office in the centermost building on campus. In the somewhat horseshoe-shaped area, it is the building that all paths lead to. Anxiety simmers as your heavy footfalls carry you up a short incline and through automatic sliding doors.

Ahead and to the left is a lady sitting at a computer and you slow your steps as you make your way toward her, eyes adjusting to the dimmer indoor lights. The woman is older with curly greyish-blonde hair and she types for a while before lifting her gaze to notice you.

"I should have an appointment with the nurse," you say, sliding your backpack from your shoulders with the intent to pull your student ID card from the smallest front pocket.

The woman nods her head to the door behind you and says, "You can go on in."

Nervously, you nod, mutter a thanks under your breath, and bounce the fairly heavy backpack to adjust it in place on your back. As you turn to make your way into the nurse's office the edges of your vision blur and you feel your head get foggy. Now is certainly not the time for a panic attack but it is hard not to fear for the worst as you reach for a metal handle and turn, then pull the heavy wooden door open. There is a small waiting room with some black leather chairs and you glance around, wondering if you should have a seat. You are relieved to find nobody else is waiting.

With a deep, fortifying breath, you shuffle over to a stiff armchair by a window and wait. You decide that if the tests come back with a positive result you will spill the beans to your boss and get the police involved. Either way, you are back at square one.

* * *

You were a wreck during your first two classes, barely able to focus during set design and missing so many keys in piano that you begin to worry that maybe you are not cut out for this whole undercover college student thing. And now that Josie has your samples in hand, you feel nauseated and lament going to your next class. Sure, you have experienced the stress of college before but you have never done all of this with test results looming over you. Not this kind of test, anyway.

The moment piano class is over you check your email, wondering whether Min's pupil has gotten back to you. At this point, you are less worried about the undercover job than you are about acing your piano exam. You may not actually be gunning for a degree but that does not mean you want a poor grade for all your efforts.

There is a part of you that finds your anxiety funny. Why you are worried about grades for a fake degree is beyond you, and you chalk it up to needing something to keep your mind busy.

Deciding you have no stomach for costume design, you shoot your professor a message letting her know that you are feeling under the weather and then quickly make your way through campus, shivering as a gust of afternoon breeze hits you. You keep your eyes on the sidewalk, clenching your phone in one hand and your black backpack strap in the other, just beside your armpit, as you walk quickly toward the bus stop.

A short bus ride to the train station, and you pop underground for three stops before surfacing a block and a half from your apartment. Your phone buzzes to life once you come about halfway up the steps from the underground station and you check to find Josie has sent you a text.

Josie's news has assuaged most of your concerns but you still cannot shake the fact that you blacked out, lost time, and allowed a strange man into your home. You are thankful that nothing went wrong but the fact that so many things could have gone terribly wrong weighs on you. One thing is for certain, you are not going to leave a drink unattended with a stranger ever again. And no more accepting drinks that you do not watch the bartender make and hand over, preferably directly into your own hands. These are survival tips you have always been aware of, especially in your line of work, but never have you considered that you could fall victim.

As you dangle gold earrings in front of your pierced lobes your phone vibrates. Ordinarily, you do not hear from Josie until she is on her way to the club and you are confused by who could be contacting you this early.

You hope beyond hope that it is not Cody. The possibility even causes your hand to stall beside your hip before you finally reach into the pocket of your tight blue jeans and pull the device out.

The text is not from Cody, but you are just as surprised by what you find. Steeling yourself, you take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Although you know that accepting any invitation from Vante is best for the sake of your mission, you are not eager to bend to his will whenever he commands you to.

From the way he texts, it seems clear that this man is definitely Vante. Or, at least, the man with whom you were texting when the two of you first matched on tinder. It does not assuage your indignance, but it does make you wonder whether there could be something here for you to work with.

You think it over, weighing whether a night with this man would be worth missing a ladies night with Josie. He is your target, after all. If he is who he says he is...

You should go for it.

Your heart is a caged animal behind your ribs and you almost feel ridiculous for allowing a man to get to you the way he seems to have a knack for doing. You almost lament the thought that the deep, rough voice who spoke to you on the phone two nights ago might not be attached to this eager texter. But if it is both Vante and Min who you are communicating with then your chances of being in the company of both men seems high. You cannot even begin to wrap your head around the thought that you get butterflies like this from two separate men.

With a deep exhale you fan yourself with your hands and continue to get ready. Feeling flustered over a man who you have been instructed not to become attached to is not going to get you anywhere.

Your phone buzzes as you apply lip gloss, this time with a text from Josie to say that she is on her way. You take in your simple outfit of a tight black tank top tucked into a white high-waisted tennis skirt, and do a little twirl, admiring the flash of thighs and the way your curves are highlighted. You grab a black silk bomber jacket with floral watercolor print and slide your feet into some loosely laced black boots, then you tuck your lipgloss, phone, and wallet into the pockets of the jacket and slide your hands inside. The walk through your building, down the steps, and out the lobby is short, and you quickly make your way to the curb with your hand out, delighted when it only takes a moment for a cab to pull over.

The ride to the club is quick and you stare out the window, watching brick and cement buildings pass by. The streets are still busy for a Tuesday but scarce compared to the weekends, with far fewer food stalls and people milling about. Even the club is much slower and as the cab pulls to the curb you do not see anyone, including Josie, waiting outside. You suppose she has probably gone inside, so you pay for the ride with your phone, thank the driver, and get out into the cool night air.

The music coming from the club is much tamer than it is on the weekend and you wish you had dressed a little more casually. But, of course, Josie put thoughts of Daniel in your head, and if you are being honest, it really has been far too long since you have let loose and had a little fun.

A security guard sits on a stool just inside the door, and you pull out the ID with your fake identity to show him. Once inside, you glance around the space and find Josie leaning against the bar, holding a tall mixed drink while an identical one sits waiting for you. Although you wave to Josie, your eyes scan the bartenders. There are two women on staff and you are instantly disappointed to see that Daniel is not working. You do your best not to show your disappointment, however, approaching Josie with a pep in your step and a wide smile.

Josie holds her arms out and wiggles into a hug, swaying in a way that matches the tempo of the music playing – some indie pop song with delicate female vocals that feels out of place in a nightclub, but that fits the more relaxed vibe.

"Damn, bella, you look cute tonight!" Josie says as she lets you go and takes a step back, eyeing your outfit.

You roll your eyes and shake your head, attempting to be modest, while taking in her gorgeous low-cut black velvet dress with long sleeves and a short a-line skirt. The dress has shimmery stars covering its surface and you rub your hands over the shoulders, feeling as the velvet goes soft and rough beneath your palms.

"You look cute tonight," you say, squeezing Josie's shoulders before leaning against the bar and reaching for your drink. "I love this dress."

"It low-key gives Miss Frizzle," Josie says as she grabs her drink and pulls the straw to her lips.

You laugh, nodding in appreciation of such a timeless reference. "Fitting, since you are our little science wiz."

Why Josie finds it wise to drink Long Island iced tea on Tuesday night is beyond you, and you pick up the tall thin glass and take a sip through the straw, instantly recoiling from the strength and sweetness.

"These girls don't fuck around!" Josie says, clearly laughing at your reaction. "They don't make it as strong as Daniel but they make it sweeter."

At the mention of Daniel you must pull a minuscule enough expression for Josie to notice because she mock-pouts and says, "Aweee, are you sad the hot bartender isn't here to flirt with you and give us free drinks?"

Affronted, you scoff, hold your hand to your heart, and ask, "Excuse me?"

Josie laughs. She says, "Don't worry, I saw him around here somewhere," and you instantly look over your shoulder and begin to scan the place, trying your hardest to get a peek.

When Josie bursts out laughing even more you sigh and realize she is just picking on you. Although you have the urge to smack your lovely friend, you pout instead and say, "Not funny."

Josie's entire face is scrunched up in delight, but she widens her eyes as if pleading with you to say, "I'm serious, though." Nodding her chin, she says, "He's right there."

At this point you are unwilling to turn and look. You are determined that Josie is making fun of you some more, and you have already worn your eagerness on your sleeve.

So when a deep voice says, "Well, hello, there," in your ear, you gasp and flinch, causing Josie to laugh even harder.

Daniel walks around until he is standing beside the gap between you and Josie, and you catch his gaze dropping down to your boots before he blinks and looks you in the eye.

"Ladies," he says, smiling wide at Josie and back at you. "What brings the two of you here on a Tuesday night?"

"Great question," you mutter as you lift your strong mixed drink and take a hearty sip from the straw, filling your mouth with sugar and booze, and feeling the cold of the drink all the way down your throat.

"I had a breakthrough at work and decided to have a drink to celebrate," Josie supplies, nice and vague. "But we probably won't be out long. I, for one, am exhausted."

This part is news to you and you widen your eyes as if to ask Josie what she is talking about. She simply ignores you, flashing her winning smile at Daniel.

"Well I have some things to finish up here," Daniel says, cocking his head to the side, to where you assume he was before this moment. "But if you're still here in, say, twenty minutes, I would love to share a drink with you two."

You open your mouth to say that you may still be here, but Josie is louder, saying, "She will definitely be here."

"Sounds good," Daniel says through a chuckle. He turns to walk away, then twists back and mutters, "See you soon," with a wink, causing your entire face to burn bright hot.

The moment he is out of earshot you give your friend a light smack on the arm, whisper-yelling, "What are you doing?"

Josie is a giddy, giggly mess, and she drinks back the remainder of her Long Island in one sip then sets the empty glass on the bar. "I'm giving you space to have a little fun," she says, causing you to feel a range of emotions all at once.

All of this has been her idea – from coming out to the club to abandoning you so you can have a drink with a handsome man who you hardly know – so you do not feel guilty about her choices. But you do feel a tinge of something akin to regret at the thought of her choosing to leave so soon.

"I'll have another drink and we can dance while you wait for him," she insists, turning to the bar to flag down one of the tenders. You accept this proposal but choose to nurse your drink for the time being. After all, you need to attempt to be more present in class tomorrow.

With the dancefloor less crowded and the DJ playing hits from the 90s and 00s the two of you spread out and goof around, pulling out all the stops with dance moves from your yesteryears, taking turns fishing for one another and rolling your legs in tootsie rolls. Winded from a very eager attempt at the running man, you bend with your hands on your knees and laugh, catching your breath. Josie is all but collapsed into a tall table laughing and wiping tears from her eyes.

This is nice, being out with a friend and letting go of your inhibitions the way you used to. Typically the club is so crowded that all you can manage is a wiggle here and there on the dancefloor. Time has flown and you are surprised to glance toward the bar and find Daniel standing with his arms crossed over his chest and his attention on you.

"I think we have an audience," you say, too happy to feel embarrassed.

Josie pulls out her phone and checks the time, then yawns dramatically and says, "Damn, I sure am tired!"

With a roll of your eyes, you shake your head. Once Josie gets something in her mind there is no going back, so rather than try to convince her that you would like to spend more time together, you follow her off the dancefloor and prepare to say your goodbyes. Josie wraps you in a nice tight hug as Daniel kicks off the bar and approaches.

"Take good care of this one," she says to him, making you roll your eyes again.

Daniel says, "Of course," in Korean, then he clears his throat and says, "You have my word," in English while slightly bowing his head.

As Josie walks away you approach the bar eager for water, watching from the corner of your eye as Daniel follows.

"Josie doesn't speak Korean," you tease, half turning your attention to him while waiting for one of the bartenders.

"I wouldn't think so," he says with a chuckle. "After a long day it sometimes feels a little muddy on the tongue to be bilingual."

You hum and nod. "I know what you mean."

"I spent the evening meeting with a couple who are scouting the club for an event and they switched a lot between both, so now my wires are all crossed."

"Tongue twisted," you say with a smile, catching a glint in Daniel's eye before one of the bartenders approaches. You turn to her and say, "Just water for me," while Daniel holds up a pint of golden beer to silently let her know that he is already taken care of.

Suddenly the noise of the club feels overwhelming rather than welcoming. Perhaps it is the shift from dancing like a fool with Josie to standing still and struggling with what to say to this man who has only ever served you drinks. Yes, he is beautiful and he smells like a masculine athletic body spray, but his presence isn't quite as titillating as you always imagined it might be.

A glass of cold water is set before you and you mouth, thank you, as you take it and drink back half of its contents. The chill works a shiver up your spine and you close your eyes for a beat and take a deep breath. As you open your eyes and turn to Daniel his gaze is fixed on you and smoldering hot.

"Wanna go someplace a little more quiet?" he asks.

You nod, unsure where this someplace could possibly be, and he turns away from the bar and leads you to a door along the nearby wall marked Employees Only. Although it is a reprieve from the club as the door is shut and all the noise is drowned out, you feel extra awkward standing in this much smaller space.

There is a desk, a leather chair, and several grey metal filing cabinets. Strewn about are stacks of paperwork and other stationery, and along the walls are cardboard boxes spilling over with branded shirts, cardboard coasters, and other bar paraphernalia. Daniel walks over to the desk and lean-sits with his legs outstretched. Rather than take the chair, you step close to him and lean against the wall.

"Tell me about yourself," Daniel says as he lifts his beer to his lips and has a sip, never taking his eyes off you.

His attentive stare makes you squirm and you rack your brain for information. "Currently I am studying theater arts and music."

Daniel's eyes widen and he cracks a smile. "That's…interesting."

You roll your eyes and mutter, "Shut up," feeling an odd sense of defensiveness despite smiling.

"I thought you were older," he says, straightening up.

You hum and nod. "I am. Took some time off to help with my father's veterinarian office and did a little traveling before finally settling on a major. So, compared to my classmates I am definitely several years older."

"Man, everyone's talking about traveling today, it's giving me the itch," Daniel says as he lifts his beer to his lips. He takes a drink and says, "That couple I was telling you about were talking about living in Japan. One of them is a model and just spent time in Italy."

You straighten up, feeling your blood go cold. What are the odds? "This couple…did you say they were Korean?"

"Yeah!" Daniel beams. "They were very eccentric but clearly have a knack for throwing parties. It should be fun."

Daniel gulps back the rest of his beer, slowly draining the glass of its golden contents. Your mind races with questions to ask about this pair but they all seem too strange to ask unprompted and you cannot imagine Daniel would give their names or physical descriptions outright.

Think, you berate yourself. Put your detective skills to the test and think. You suppose it is not outside the realm of possibility for you to pretend to know an eccentric globetrotting Korean pair. After all, if these are your targets then one of them works at the same university that you attend, giving you reason to be acquainted with him.

You lick your lips, steady your breathing, and decide that the best course of action is to pretend to recognize the pair based on his description. But you are surprised when Daniel stands up straight and delicately takes the glass of water from your fingers, setting it on the desk and interrupting your plan.

"Enough of this talk," he says, stepping so close the heat radiates from his body. "I didn't bring you in here to chat about clients."

Fingertips graze over your chin and you instinctively tilt your head toward him, letting out a shaky breath as you ask, "Oh?"

"I see the way you look at me," Daniel utters softly, lips mere inches from yours. All thought screeches to a halt and you stare at his lips in shock. Is he really about to do this? "I like you, Sandra. From the moment you first sauntered up to my bar I have fantasized about bringing you back here and pressing you against this wall."

You say nothing, merely lick your lips once more. You have thought of it too – of course you have. Daniel touching you just as he is now. Daniel slotting his lips to yours and stealing away your breath. But now it feels so abrupt and strange. And honestly, you hate the thought of being romanced by someone who doesn’t know your name.

"May I?" he asks, leaning closer and gently wafting warm breath over your mouth.

Like a fool, you nod, eager for his touch despite not feeling wholly present and receptive. After the last few days your life has been a whirlwind and rather than feeling like an exciting reprieve, Daniel's presence only seems to add to your anxiety. Still, you close your eyes and tilt your chin forward. When Daniel's lips meet yours, you suck in a gasp and allow him to press and lick and tease.

It feels good the way he very delicately urges your mouth to move for him. Tiny sparks ignite causing you to tense and then relax into the touch. But it is not Daniel's sharp features and deep voice you picture as his tongue dances over the length of yours and sends a shiver through you. It is Vante's sultry photos and alluring flirtation that cause your body to react. As Daniel's fingertips graze down the lengths of your arms you imagine Min's skilled musician hands playing you like one of his well-loved instruments. Daniel groans and deepens the kiss and you remember the way the mysterious deep voice on the phone hummed and chuckled in your ear before asking what you were wearing.

Your hands lift as Daniel's fingers dance from your fingertips to your waist. As you bring your arms up to drape over his shoulders Daniel's palms press into your hips, thumbs digging in circles over your hips and catching on the fabric of your skirt. You struggle to hold your balance, gasping and whimpering as Daniel's kiss becomes sloppy and somewhat frantic. You know he is picturing you bent over this desk or sitting at the edge with your skirt hiked up and inviting him to have a taste. The thought is enticing but it also feels wrong. All of this feels wrong.

With a gasp, you tilt your head back and turn it to the side just enough to evade another eager press of lips against your mouth. Daniel's nose grazes over your jaw and his lips mark your throat and neck with spit, causing you to shiver and smile. You are at war with your senses and you wish that you could easily let go and allow him to have you any way he pleases. But you cannot, for the life of you, stop thinking about them.

"Sorry," you all but whisper, sliding your arms from Daniel's shoulders and attempting to gain your composure. "This feels great, really," his fingers graze over your hips and move closer to your heat, "but it's moving a little too fast."

This slows Daniel's movements to a stop but he remains pressed against you. He nods as his lips trail slow warm kisses just below your ear. You wish you could fully lose yourself to the feeling.

"Alright," he mutters, finally standing up tall and giving you a measly amount of space. "I get it."

Daniel looks positively wrecked and you question your decision, absolutely swooning over how his lips are pinkened from use and his hair is slightly disheveled. There is a light sheen of sweat over his neck and you imagine marking the skin and tasting its salty tang. But alas, he is not the one you imagine with your eyes closed and if you are going to remain professional and not get attached to those phantoms who linger in the depths of your innermost desires, then allowing another man to distract you and fill you with wild fantasies is probably not the best course of action.

"Thank you," he says, leaning forward to press one last kiss against your forehead. The move feels a bit odd and somewhat patronizing, and you smile, fighting back the urge to chuckle.

"Thank you," you say, doing your best to sound sweet.

You are sweaty and aroused and confused and you need to remove yourself from this situation and go home. When Daniel finally takes a step back and gives you space, you reach for the water and drink half of its remaining contents then pull your phone from your jacket pocket and begin to order a cab.

"I can give you a ride," Daniel offers, and you consider it for a moment before deciding that you would like to keep the number of men who know where you live to a minimum for the time being.

"It's alright," you insist, confirming your address and watching as a car icon appears on a map and begins making its way toward your location marker. "I have an early morning so I should run. Lost track of time. But this was really fun and I hope to see you soon."

Daniel seems taken slightly aback by how quickly your mood has shifted and he watches as you shove your phone into your pocket and rub your hands down your front to straighten yourself out. Feeling a bit guilty for how eager you are to jet, you stand on your toes and press a kiss against Daniel's jaw, then quickly turn for the door.

In a rush, you are out into the loud club, and your heart riots in your chest. Everything feels off balance and you make your way quickly past the bar to the open door, sparing a glance at nothing and nobody as you keep your head down and speed toward the exit.

As you step outside your phone buzzes and you are delighted to see that your cab is close. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and weigh the idea of making a really, really bad choice. What if you did reach out to Vante and tell him all about how pent-up you feel? What if you allowed the deep, rough voice you heard the night before to lull you into pleasure as your hands pinch and squeeze and caress your body.

The car pulls to the curb and you hop in quickly, wasting no time to strap into the seatbelt and rest your head back. You absolutely should not reach out to Vante. But god, you want to. As the city lights pass and you quickly arrive to your apartment, you weigh the pros and cons. Realistically you could be forward on the phone and more reserved in person. Is it really a big deal allowing a disembodied voice to get you off, even if that voice belongs to a target with whom you should absolutely not form any sort of relationship?

You pay for the cab ride on your phone as it pulls in front of your brownstone, thanking the driver as you hurriedly and haphazardly slide out onto the sidewalk and scurry to the front door. Your fingers fumble with your keys as one hand grips tightly to your phone. An evil little voice in your head echos text him, text him, text him, taunting you with a world of possibility.

What could one innocent message hurt?

As you make your way to the second story and ready your key, you make your decision. You are full of frenetic energy that just your hands and toys alone will not satiate. You need to hear that voice again, regardless of which of those men it may belong to. In a rush of fabric you drop your jacket in the middle of the living room, kicking your boots off in different directions as you shuffle to your bedroom. You must be a sight to behold and you laugh softly at the thought of replaying the footage of this entrance on the camera app.

In your room, you climb onto your bed, sitting against the wall with a pillow wedged behind your back. There is a tremble in your hands as you lift your phone and type and delete multiple messages before settling on a simple emoji. It takes your breath away to see how fast Vante responds and you close your eyes to take a deep breath before reading his reply.

It takes under a minute for your phone to ring and you take in a fortifying breath. You still have time to back out. You can decline or ignore this call and continue not crossing this threshold. He may understand if you are shy and apologize…but you do not want to back out.

You accept the call and slowly lift the phone to your ear, eager to hear the man on the other side. Silence hangs briefly and you will yourself to lick your lips and softly say, "Hello, V."

The deep, rough voice you remember says, "There you are," and your arms instantly break out in goosebumps.

"Sorry," you utter, squeezing your eyes closed, "I feel shy."

"So you said," he responds with a soft chuckle. "But you have me now, and you are hearing my voice. Are you satisfied?"

What a loaded question. You grin and bite down on your lip, doing your best not to loudly swoon as reality settles over you and you formulate just how far you can safely take this interaction without losing your wits entirely.

"I suppose…" you tease. Perhaps he will eagerly play along and supply you with what you need without you having to ask for it. You absentmindedly dance the fingertips of your free hand up your thigh, teasing just below the hem of your skirt. You feel electric but far from satisfied and you add, "It's a start, anyway."

The man hums, filling you with warmth. It is dangerous the way he sounds in your ear and your lips fall open on the sound. "A start? So, tell me, what can I do to fully satisfy you, pretty?"

Why must he force you to ask for it? You take another deep breath and feel the way it fills you. Your head absolutely spins as you formulate your request.

"I need…" You lick your lips.

"You need…" he taunts back, drawing out the words.

"I feel pent-up, V…" you admit, eyes still squeezed shut.

A pleased hum fills your ear and works a shiver along your spine. Is this how he sounds when he moans? Or is it even more pretty? "And my voice excites you?"

Your lips flounder slightly before you swallow your pride and whisper, "Yes."

His voice sharpens ever so slightly as he says, "Ask nicely for me."

Your eyes flutter open and you take in the dark room, grounding yourself in your familiar surroundings. You can still back out. You can change your mind. But you won't. Not now that you have already come so far.

"Please," you ask sweetly, a bit desperately.

"Are you home?"

Your voice is barely above a whisper. "Yes."

"So early."

You feel inexplicably sheepish. "Yeah...wasn't feeling it tonight."

"Fair enough. Are you alone?"

"Yes."

A brief pause, then, "Are you touching yourself?"

You shake your head and say, "No," as your eyelids flutter closed and you continue to dance your fingers over your thigh.

"Do you want to be touching yourself?"

Your breath hitches. He is so forward and yet it is precisely what you need. "Yes."

"What are you wearing for me, baby?"

Baby. That's new. You like the way it sounds on his tongue.

"A tank top and skirt," you say, dragging your fingertips higher up your thigh.

"Bra and panties?"

"Yes. Thin. Cotton. Matching set." Suddenly you are incapable of stringing a full sentence together and you are relieved that he does not seem to mind.

"Color?"

You smile to yourself. "White."

"White," he says in a gruff voice, as if the image affects him the way his voice affects you. You hum in agreement and he says, "So if you happened to be wet for me I would be able to see it through the thin fabric."

"Yes," you say on reflex because you imagine that what he says is likely true.

"Are you?" he asks, and you hesitate, unsure precisely what he is asking before he clarifies and adds, "Wet for me."

"I am," you admit as warmth floods your neck and cheeks.

"Touch your panties," he softly commands, "for me."

You drag your fingers higher over the crest of your thighs until finally, they graze over your slit, causing you to sigh happily to the touch.

"Such a good girl," he praises and you swell with pride, touching yourself more firmly. "I can hear the way you breathe with pleasure. Don't hold back, baby. Tell me how it feels to touch yourself to my voice."

"Feels good," you groan, swirling your fingers over your clothed clit.

"Do you enjoy being told what to do?" he asks, taking you by surprise.

Your fingers hesitate then continue as you mull over how risky of a question this could be. "Yes," you finally admit.

"There is nothing that turns me on more than a beautiful, eager, submissive toy in my bed. Is that what you desire, baby? To be praised and used like a fuck doll?"

You should not give this information to a man who is potentially dangerous. You should absolutely not admit to the way this question fills you with a hot, deep arousal that courses through you like lava.

As you open your mouth but fumble around syllables, unsure whether to confess to just how much his words affect you, there is a sound from the other end of the line like a door closing and a voice calling out.

"Shit," the man says, ripping you from your thoughts. "My roommate is home already."

"Oh," you say, trying not to sound too disappointed. This so-called roommate must be his husband.

"I, uh…I gotta go, baby. So sorry."

"No worries," you say, swallowing thickly and taking a deep breath. It is probably for the best that this conversation was interrupted where it was.

"Finish what you started and tell me all about it on our date?" he asks teasingly.

"Oh my god," you say, embarrassed. There is no way you would be able to talk about this to his face. Not on a first date, anyway.

"Sleep sweet, pretty," he says, giving you goosebumps. This phrase sounds familiar, but from where? "We'll chat soon. Text me if you're feeling lonely."

"Alright," you say and you hang up before any more words can be exchanged. Everything about this interaction – about this entire night – feels fucking weird. You have the distinct feeling that there is something you are forgetting but nothing comes to mind and it fills you with anxiety.

You opt to shower off this day and climb into bed with your favorite bullet vibrator. You remember only the intriguing things the deep voice belonging to Vante or Min has said to you and selectively forget everything else. There is plenty of time to unpack this mess tomorrow. For now, you must sleep.

* * *

Your classes are a blur. All you can focus on is getting through the day and arriving to the practice rooms at 5 p.m. The events of last night replay in your mind and you do your best to shut them out but it is hard not to think about Daniel's lips and V's (Min's?) voice and your fingers… You fidget with the hem of your sweater sleeves and dig your fingernails into your palms in an attempt to stay present. For the most part your efforts fail.

By the time you make it to the practice rooms your nerves are so alite that you have to shake out your hands and silently pep talk yourself. You're okay, you're okay, you are going to be okay. It is not as if you are going to see Min today. Relax.

A tall man with dark skin and a wide, welcoming smile greets you. "You must be Sandra," he says while lifting a hand for you to shake.

"Yes," you say, taking his hand. His shake is firm and brief.

"Mateo. Follow me."

Mateo wears a mustard yellow beanie, a blue sweater, and blue jeans. He leads you into a wide-open practice space that contains a brown upright piano on one side of the room and a desk on the other. You approach the piano instinctively and sit on the bench while Mateo grabs a wooden chair and pulls it close.

"Tell me what you want to focus on and then we will assess where you're at," he prompts, and you take a deep breath.

"Speed, mostly," you say, imagining what might be easy to fake being bad at. "And fluidity. I am getting the notes but it still feels clunky."

"Common issues," Mateo assures with a smile, making you smile in return. "Can you play the song that I have provided?"

You turn to the piano and observe the book sitting open on the rack, finding Mozart's Turkish March. You smile, holding back a grin because yes, you absolutely can play this song.

Feigning sheepishness, you nod once and settle on the piano bench facing the keys. You start slow at first, taking care to make mistakes with your thumbs and middle fingers. Although your attempt sounds better than you would like considering you are in a tutoring session, you are proud of your performance as you huff out sigh after sigh of frustration. At the end of the second page, you squeeze your eyes shut, shake out your hands and take a deep breath.

"Sorry," you mutter. "Nervous."

"No sweat at all," Mateo says kindly. "You're not as bad as you might think you are."

Great, you think, perhaps I should be worse.

You open your eyes and begin again from the top. This time you allow yourself to be a little better, taking it slower and hitting more correct notes.

Mateo says, "Very good," filling you with confidence as you continue on to the second page.

You get close to the bottom of the page when you notice a figure entering the room, and when you lift your eyes for a brief moment the world screeches to a halt and your hands clumsily strike discordant keys before stopping entirely. Silence hangs as a familiar man gives a wry smile and nods his head to Mateo, muttering something you are unable to hear.

"Mister Theodore," Mateo says as he stands and approaches Min, who walks over to the desk on the far side of the room. Is that…his desk?

The two of them quietly exchange words before Min takes his leave, holding onto a folder and quickly exiting the room. You feel warm all over, hands prickling with sweat as you watch his retreating form and recall everything you know about this man from his file.

He is beautiful and slender in a dark button-up shirt and slacks, commanding the room without having to audibly speak a word. You hold your breath in anticipation to hear his voice but he is in and out with hardly a sound, gone just as fast as he arrived.

“Apologies,” Mateo says as he takes his seat, pointing with an open palm toward the piano. “Please continue.”

On the plus side, Min’s sudden appearance has caused a tremble in your hands that is strong enough that you genuinely make mistakes while playing. At least your need for a tutor sounds believable. What are the odds that his desk is right there?

lie down in the fire with me i burn everything frequently if it don't feel good when you first get in wait 'til it gets under your skin

🎵 visit the playlist

hello, hello!!! how are we feeling???

some housekeeping: you may notice that the mc had a realization at the end of the last chapter that she forgot about in this chapter. that was the drugs. you also have notice that the blood test came back negative. that was not an error on my part. more will be explained in the future.

i might do a short TaeGi POV chapter to show where their heads are at and why the call was cut short at the end of the chapter 😈😈😈

QUESTIONS??? CONCERNS??? REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE THE LIFEBLOOD OF THIS SITE, BUT LIKES ARE ALSO SUPER APPRECIATED!!! 🤍🤍🤍 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! I LOVE YOU! DRINK SOME WATER AND STRETCH YOUR NECK!!!

tags will be on a separate reblog! 🤍 visit the master post to read the warnings & request to be tagged!

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#yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #taegi x reader #taegi #taegi smut #bts poly #bts angst #bts dead dove #bts smut #bts social media au #undescribed #undescribed images #fic: white lies #Spotify

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kyrithenerd · 2 months ago

Text

JASPER HALE HEADCANONS 2

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

I can see him being really into Arctic monkeys, HIM and Chris Isaac.

He feels terrible about the civil war and what happened with Maria and is often depressed about it.

He's also very insecure about his scars and bite marks. He doesn't wear anything that shows them around anyone except you and some of the Cullens.

When you two first started hanging out he was constantly asking Rosalie for advice, and still does when he runs out of gift ideas.

Had a phase where he tried wearing contacts to blend in more but it irritated his eyes enough to stop.

Gets really overwhelmed in crowded spaces bc he feels everyone's emotions, so he's not the concert buddy.

He still goes to festivals with you, but that's bc he loves you and not the festival in itself.

Has a huge vinyl connection.

Misses the 60s-80s A LOT.

He thinks a lot about what would happen if he lost you, and he can't see himself.

He secretly thinks Tanya is very annoying and foolish for being into Edward like that.

He's part of the school paper.

Reads a lot of books and often compares your relationship with fictional couples.

"You know darlin', I love you like Gatsby loved Daisy"

"Honey, you're my Nastenka" and so on.

Has a private library bc he can and why not.

I can see him fighting in one or both of the world wars (on the side of America, obviously)

He's big on geography and visited every country, collecting fridge magnets from everywhere.

He hated Bella at first but won't admit it bc of the Cullens. He also didn't understand why Edward was so open with her.

Mythology fanatic.

Didn't take P.E. for a long time bc of his bloodlust.

Isn't a fan of Spanish bc of Maria.

He has awful short term memory but an incredible long term one

HELL OF A DANCER. I mean really, he knows every famous dance from every decade he was alive for.

Was a hippie at some point (he doesn't like to talk about it)

Got his motorcycle license taken away a few times for going over the speed limit.(He wasn't putting anyone in danger tho)

Is addicted to energy drinks.

"Hun, I can't have a heart attack, my heart is not beating .... You can make it race tho-"

His fav monster is the violet one and his favorite hell is black cherry.

Can't say tongue twisters, blames it on his accent.

In over a century he never learned how to drive a car, bike guy till the grave.

Still has horses and rides, breeds and cares for them as a hobby.

He's very good at archery, both from shooting while in the saddle or not, he doesn't miss his target.

Got canceled on Twitter for saying that pineapple belongs on pizza.

Despite his tasting being mostly gone from being a vampire he loves Italian and Greek food!

Cracks his knuckles loudly to annoy people

Writes a diary.

He actually has a pretty good handwriting bc he studied calligraphy.

Loves Victorian poems.

He's a little sad that he missed victorian Europe for the wild west.

Writes his own books but never publishes them bc he's afraid of judgment.

He has self-image issues. He often compares himself to Emmett and hates how lean he is. Even if deep down knows he can't change that now it bothers him no matter how much you tell him that he's perfect.

Takes a bath every day despite the lack of need for him to actually do it. He just likes the hot water.

He sings and acts surprisingly good! He played in musicals too.

Knows people like Stephen King personally.

He's a DiCaprio over Pitt type of guy.

He watches the titanic with you every time you want him to

Collects real swords from all eras and all around the world.

He doesn't like Taylor Swift but listens to her with you if you want him to.

Loves when you get your nails done for some reason.

Played the "get Rick Rolled" meme w/ Emmett for months.

He loves classical music but instead of being Debussy obsessed like Edward he's more of a Puccini person.

Actually calls Carlisle and Esme mom and dad instead of their names.

Unbeatable at Monopoly

OKIII THAT'S ALL FOR TODAY!

I'd like to apologize for being inactive in these past days, I have a school play/ dance (basically English waltz) we have to do and it's consuming me so excuse my absence! My requests are still open so feel free to ask me anything<3

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janeyseymour · 1 year ago

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Potential part 2 to Bridge Over Troubled Water. Maybe something about them finally confessing their feelings, or the reader finishing their degree and Mel is worried about seeing them less thinking they're going back to working in the suburbs but maybe they get transferred to Abbott. That's if you're feeling up to it of course

So... this took way longer than anticipated, but it's here, and she's done (and as always unedited). I hope you enjoy!

Bridge Over Troubled Water Pt 2

Part 1.

WC: 5.5k (exactly!)

Since the two of you finally confessed your feelings for each other, you’ve found the balance between work and home life as well as the dynamic between the two of you as teacher and aide. Really, not much has changed- you can’t blame Ava for having figured the two of you out before even you two knew what there was with the two of you.

That was two semesters ago, and you’re quickly approaching the end of your masters degree. You’ve been seeing Melissa for a little over a year, and it’s been great. She’s your best friend, the best mentor, and the biggest supporter for you when you need to be told it’s going to be okay in terms of your graduate degree. But now that’s almost finished. You have three more final papers to write, one group presentation, and a speech to finish, and then you’ll have your masters in reading.

“You’re doing great, hon,” your girlfriend tells you as you type away furiously at your laptop at her kitchen island.

You jump nearly a foot in the air. You had been so focused on your paper that you didn’t even realize she had moved from her station at the stove to right behind you.

“Jesus, Mel,” you chuckle once your shock wears off. “Give a girl some warning first.”

She wraps her arms around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. “I thought you saw me move from the stove. Sorry, babe.”

You turn red. “My bad.”

“It’s alright, amore. You were focused on your paper, and I’m so proud of you.”

“I can’t wait to be done with it all,” you sigh.

“You’re almost there,” she tells you. “And then you can just relax through the end of the school year with me and figure everything else out during the summer.”

You worry your lip through your teeth. “I think I’ve figured out what I’m doing already though.”

“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

You close your laptop and turn around in her arms. “I think I’m going to go back to the school I was at before- at least for a little bit. I know I have job security there, and the principal already asked me about returning to finish out the school year for one of the old second grade teachers who has to go out on maternity leave- at least to finish up the school year.”

“What?” she sounds shocked. “And you’re going to-“

“I think I have to if I want any sort of job security for next year,” you tell her. “But I’ll still do everything I can to-“

“You’re just going to leave the kids like that? Leave me like that?”

“Baby, it isn’t like that,” you whisper and pull her in closer. “You know how the teaching career paths are. And I know that my old school finishes before Abbott, so I can come in for the last week with you, and-“

Melissa takes a shaky breath. “You have to do what’s best for you, as much as it kills me… have you told anyone else?”

“Just Ava,” you mumble. “I was going to tell you tomorrow when we went out for dinner.”

“Okay.” She bites her lip. She knows you have to do what’s best for you, and she knows you’re right. You need job security. And she’ll be fine with the two classes together again; the two of you have pretty much figured out how to teach both classes seamlessly. But now she’s worried about how this is going to affect the relationship between the two of you- she won’t see you nearly as much.

“Please tell me you’re not mad,” you practically beg her.

“I’m not,” she tells you truthfully. “Just thinking about how the kids are going to miss you… how I’ll miss you.”

“You’ll see me,” you promise her. “We’re dating.”

“I know,” she sighs. “But it’ll be different. I’ll have my classes, you’ll have your class, and when we’re together, we’ll both be swamped with grading and planning.”

“I’m sure we can figure it out, hon. We’ll set aside time to grade together, we’ll see if at least our second grades line up to plan together for, and I’ll make sure that we have our time together to focus on things other than schoolwork.”

“You better,” she chuckles nervously, reaching down to palm your ass.

“I love you,” you whisper as you set your forehead against hers.

“I love you too,” she tells you, but she’s still nervous.

When you get your degree, Melissa is the first one to wrap you up in a hug, peck your lips, and tell you how proud of you she is. Your parents are second, and they grin when they see how happy you are with your girlfriend. They had been wary in the beginning of your relationship, but now they fully embrace the fiery redhead in your life as family.

The four of you have a wonderful meal provided by Melissa at her house, and your parents sing her praises.

“My god,” your dad chuckles. “What you do with food woman… you should’ve been a chef instead.”

“I thought about it,” your girlfriend laughs. “But I’d say being a teacher worked out just fine.” She gives you a nudge and squeezes your thigh just slightly.

Dinner is wonderful, your parents head out with warm hugs and kisses to both yours and Melissa’s cheeks, and then it’s just the two of you.

“I’m so proud of you,” she tells you as you curl up on the couch together. “So proud.”

“I know you are,” you chuckles softly. “You’ve only told me a million times today.”

“Because I am,” she grins brightly and kisses you again. “My girl’s got her masters, and she’s going to do great… wherever she might end up.”

That night ends with the two of you in bed, sweaty and grinning as she pulls you into her arms. You both get good rest that night.

On your official last day at Abbott as Melissa’s aide, the kids shower you in presents, cards, poems, drawings… anything and everything you could think of- one of the kids brought it in for you- even a jar of pickles. You chuckle at that one.

“I’m assuming this is your doing?”

“I had it put on the list,” she laughs. “And I had to specifically ask for the dill, because I know you refuse to eat gherkins.”

“You’re the best,” you hip check her.

“I do my best, babe,” she whispers back. “I am going to miss working with you.”

She hands you a note to go along with all of the kids’ stuff.

“Can I read it now, or should I read it later?”

“Maybe later,” Melissa tells you. “For now, enjoy your party, and then we do have dinner with the crew after school today.”

“We do?”

“You think we’d send you off without a true Abbott celebration?” she laughs. “Of course we have a special outing for you- down at Oscar’s- your favorite skanky dive bar.”

“You’re getting the Barbara Howard to my favorite skanky dive bar?”

“I am,” the redhead chuckles. “She loves you a lot, and I promised her it wouldn’t be too much since it’s a Wednesday at four in the afternoon.”

After many tearful goodbyes (even though you promise the kids they’ll see you for the last week of school), you walk out of the school hand in hand with your girlfriend.

“Can I open it now?” You clutch the envelope Melissa had handed you earlier in the day.

“If you really want to,” she rolls her eyes playfully as she opens the door for you. “But you can’t get all weepy. We have our friends to meet, and they don’t need to know I’m soft for you.”

“Everyone knows you’re soft for me,” you tease her. “Janine fully walked in on you massaging my back the one day in the teachers’ lounge because I had terrible cramps.”

“And I told the kid that if she told anyone, she’d regret it,” Melissa tells you.

“And then she told everyone, and you still haven’t made her regret it because you love me too much to harass our friend.”

“Shut up. Are you going to read it or not?”

“Maybe later if it’s going to make me cry.”

“I really am dating a softy, aren’t I?”

“You really are,” you grin innocently. “And you love me for it.”

When the two of you walk inside, everyone else is already there with drinks in hand.

“Aye, there’s our girl!” Jacob grins and wraps you up in a hug. “You did it!”

“I did,” you chuckle as you awkwardly pat his back before pulling away and being passed around to your friends.

You make eye contact with your usual bartender, who just smirks and starts pouring your drink for you. He slides it over to you with a wink and a nod of the head. “Congrats, kid. We’re gonna miss having you come around here.”

“I think everybody forgets that I’m not really going anywhere,” you laugh as you take a sip of your beer and find your way into Melissa’s side again. “This one’s keeping me around for a long time, so I’ll be around.”

“But it’ll be different,” Janine argues. “You won’t be at Abbott with us anymore, and you won’t get to see half the stuff we talk about!”

“I wish I didn’t have to see half the stuff we talk about,” you joke. “And I will be back for the last week of school. It’s really just these three weeks that I’m filling in at my old school.”

There’s a nagging thought in the back of your girlfriend’s mind that tells her that might be your actual last day at Abbott if you decide to go back to your school in the suburbs.

“I, for one,” Ava cuts in. “Am glad that I will no longer have competition over who is the hottest in the school.”

“Ava!” Melissa rolls her eyes.

Everybody raises their glasses towards you and cheers to you and your accomplishment.

After quite of few hours of drinking, exchanging silly Abbott stories, recounting how you and your girlfriend tiptoed around each other’s feelings for quite a bit before finally just biting the bullet and dating and how Ava won a shitload of money off of Mr. Johnson over their bet, and some good bar food, your crew starts to head out.

“You did good, sweetheart,” Barb hugs you gently. “Gerald is here to pick me up now, but I assume I’ll see you on Saturday for shopping?”

“You will,” you mumble into her shoulder.

“I’m just going to miss you so much!” Janine wipes a tear as she lunges forward to hug you.

“I think she had a little too much to drink,” Gregory takes his girlfriend by the hand to pry her off of you. “Congrats, Y/N. Hopefully, you’ll rejoin us at Abbott soon.”

“I’m with them, but it was really great getting to work with you!” Jacob grins. “And getting to see our favorite toughie soften up for you has been-“ he cuts himself off at the glare from your girlfriend. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.” The three of them exit quickly, Jacob and Gregory half carrying Janine.

That leaves you with Melissa, Ava, and Mr. Johnson.

“I’m actually going to have to do my job in that room now that you’re leaving,” Mr. Johnson sighs. “It was nice having you around, kid.”

“Thanks, Mr. J,” you chuckle. He gives you a gentle pat on the back, downs his beer and heads out.

“I know you’re going back to your old school, but…” Ava tells you. “Know Abbott will always welcome you back with open arms- even if that means I’ll have competition for who is the hottest.”

Your girlfriend rolls her eyes as she pulls you closer by the hip. “It isn’t a contest, Ava. It’s Y/N, and then me… The Philly twelve and Philly eleven.”

“Yeah, whatever,” the principal laughs. “My mans is here, but I’ll catch you later.” She heads out.

“I’ll take the tab now,” you tell your bartender.

“It’s all covered,” he waves you off. You glance to your girlfriend, who shrugs. “It’s on us… for our favorite teacher crew, celebrating one of our favorite teachers from the crew.”

You leave a generous tip before you and the redhead head out of the bar.

“Did you have a good day?” Melissa asks you gently as you get into the car.

“I did,” you smile softly. “It was a bit over the top, considering I’ll continue to see everyone, but… it was all very sweet.”

“You know we all love you,” your girlfriend tells you as she pulls her car out of the parking spot.

“I know,” you say softly, resting your hand on her thigh. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about your note. I’m waiting to read it when we’re inside.”

“I do need to get ready for work tomorrow… my first day without my gorgeous girl next to me. So I have to shower when we get home.”

“That’s fine. I’ll read it then.”

Your girlfriend tries to tempt you with a dual shower, but you politely decline.

“I actually need to shower, you actually need to shower, and we both know nothing gets done when we shower together,” you tell her pointedly.

“Actually,” she smirks. “We both get done.”

“Melissa!” you groan.

“I’m not wrong,” she grins as she strips her clothes, hoping to entice you. It doesn’t work, but she knows you’re watching as she heads into the bathroom.

With a shaky breath, you take the card out of the envelope that she had given you at school today. It’s a beautifully decorated card- one that she clearly put a lot of effort into making special just for you. You open it to see her beautiful penmanship.

Y/N, it reads. Congratulations, amore. I’m so unbelievably proud of you- you did it! I never had a doubt in my mind that you could do it, and I truly consider you to be one of the brightest lights there is in this odd profession we’ve found ourselves in.

I want to take this time to tell you how eternally grateful I am to have found you. I know we got off to a rocky start- I was angry at Ava and my last aide, and I was about to admit defeat when I stormed into her office. When I looked at you though, all that stress melted away. I would realize later that any time I looked at you, I would feel more at peace.

I expected you to waltz into my room and add to the mayhem, much like Ashley did, but you proved me wrong from the start. You immediately proved that you were a pro- that you were worth keeping around. From your organization to the way that teaching and classroom management just comes so naturally to you… you’re the real deal, babe.

And somehow, in the middle of the absolute chaos that we call our classroom, I fell for you. I was able to see every side of you- the professional and the personal. I was able to see the way that you worked seamlessly between organizing papers and handling the students in a matter of minutes of you being there. I saw the woman who is tough on the kids when they need it, but also knows how to soften up for a student who needs some extra love. I saw the goofball who isn’t afraid to be the butt of a joke because you create the joke and embrace it. I’ve loved watching you maneuver all of the staff- who even I haven’t figured out quite yet. I watched you grow professionally, but I also watched you grow personally. I’ve loved being able to be here for you through it all- all of the highs of celebrating when you got a 100% on an essay you worked your ass off to write by a deadline, to loving you through when your professor gave you a wrongful failing grade and we worked our asses off to write a better paper. I’ve loved watching you come into your own and figure out who you are. But mostly, I’ve loved loving you. I’ve loved being able to hold you on a good or a bad day, being able to cherish our time together and make memories that I never thought I would have. I’ve loved being your person, and you being mine. Thank you for being my person, thank you for letting me be your person, and here’s to you, my love. Congratulations.

She signed her name at the bottom with a heart scrawled next to it, and you can’t help but wipe a few tears away. You look towards her bathroom and smile when you hear her voice singing softly. You strip down before heading into the bathroom.

“Hon?” she calls.

You step into the shower with her, and her eyes are immediately all over you. You crash your lips into hers.

“I read your note,” you mumble against her lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

That night, the two of you hardly get any sleep.

You take the next few days off to ensure that you’re prepared for your new second graders, and then that weekend, you and Melissa find yourselves diving into your work to make sure that everything is just as it should be. You know you’re in good standing with your school, but you want to make sure that you still impress.

You end up staying at your apartment out in the suburbs (you aren’t even really sure why you have it anymore- you almost stay exclusively at your girlfriend’s in Philly) on Sunday night so that you’re closer to work.

“I’ll be fine, Mel,” you promise her over the phone as you’re driving.

“I just know that you’re nervous, and sometimes your anxiety gets the best of you,” she sighs into the phone. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay over with you?”

“I mean… you know you’re more than welcome to, but that commute for you is going to be a bitch tomorrow,” you chuckle.

“It’s a worthwhile sacrifice for you, my dear,” she tells you. “Let me pack a bag, and I’ll be there not long after you.”

After a night of Melissa assuring you that you were going to be just fine- it’s just first day jitters, you wake up to an empty bed. You can smell breakfast being cooked. You yawn, get yourself dressed for work, and stumble into the kitchen. Melissa is already ready for school, and she’s just plating breakfast when you walk in. She smiles gently at you, pouring a cup of coffee for you as you slowly make your way into her arms.

“Good morning, my love,” she whispers, kissing your head. “Are you ready?”

“I’m gonna have to be,” you mumble into her shoulder.

“Well, I have to head out if I’m going to make it in time for the news, but I’ll drive back here to hear all about your first day? We’ll cook up somethin’ nice?”

You nod. “I love you. Thank you for staying over with me to help calm my nerves.”

“Anything for you,” she kisses you softly before slinging her bags around her. “Keep me updated throughout the day.”

Your first day is great. The kids are so excited to see you, your old coworkers are thrilled to have you back, and you don’t necessarily miss the piss stench that would waft itself in from the streets at Abbott.

But you find yourself comparing this school to Abbott- the odd little school in center city that has your heart. You find yourself missing sitting in the teacher’s lounge with your girlfriend and your friends, joking over whatever happened that day. You find yourself missing the knowing glances from Melissa when one of your kids says something funny. You catch yourself looking for someone to share a look with, even if it’s just one of the camera men you’ve grown fond of.

After your first day, you drive yourself back to your apartment, fully ready to pour over quite a few notes and start planning for the next few weeks. Melissa strolls in not too much later, a grocery bag in hand.

“There’s my girl,” she smiles and makes her way over to you. She kisses you deeply. “How was your first day, amore?”

You shrug. “It was nice being back.”

You don’t fail to see the way her shoulders shrink slightly.

“But I missed you today.”

“Well, you have me now, before I have to head back to my house,” she tells you. “I’ll cook us up some dinner?”

“That sounds wonderful,” you smile as you wrap your arms around her.

“I can’t really cook if you don’t let me go,” she quips. Begrudgingly, you let her go. “So tell me about your day.”

You do. She cooks dinner. The two of you find your way into your bedroom. After quite a few rounds, she sighs and cleans you up.

“So…” she sighs softly. “When will I get to see you again?”

You bite your lip. “Maybe this weekend?”

“Baby, that’s… four days away.”

“I know, but I’m already drowning in planning, and the kids are working on some of their projects from their teacher that I’ll have to grade, and I-“

“It’s okay, love,” she promises you, knowing you’ll get worked up. “I’ll see you on Friday?”

“I’ll come down for the weekend,” you tell her. “I promise. I might have to do some work, but we can spend the weekend together.”

She nods, kisses your nose, then your cheek, then your lips before slipping out of bed.

You don’t end up seeing Melissa on Friday, or Saturday, or Sunday. You actually don’t see her until the following weekend until she comes over to your place after you hadn’t texted her all day on Friday. She’s worried about you.

“Y/N?” Melissa calls as she uses her key to let herself in. You’re asleep on some papers that you’re attempting to grade. “Oh, hon,” she sighs.

She shakes your shoulder gently, and you immediately sit up straight in a panic. Who was in your-

“It’s just me, amore,” she whispers and kisses your head. “It’s just me. You’re alright.”

You bring your hand to your chest as you continue to try to steady your breathing. “You had me so scared.”

“I’m sorry to just drop in on you,” your girlfriend apologizes. “I got worried when I didn’t get a text this morning or at all today.”

“I’m sorry,” you immediately say. “I’ve been up to my eyeballs in grading… and I may have taken a cat nap.”

“I think the cat nap took you, love,” she chuckles. “Have you slept at all?”

“I slept for like forty-five minutes last night?” you blush. “I was up making sure that all of the things for the last week of school were ready.”

“Babe,” the redhead says sternly as she lifts you into her arms. “We’ve talked about how that’s not healthy.”

“I know, I know,” you sigh as you cuddle closer to her. “I just-“ you yawn. “I want to make sure everything is perfect for them next week.”

“You need sleep. And you always could’ve called me to ask for help.”

“You have both classes though,” you mumble, sleep already threatening to take you. That’s really the last thing you remember until you wake up again. Your girlfriend’s warm body is pressed up against yours, and you roll over to look at her.

“Sleep,” Melissa grumbles against your head. You feel her press a delicate kiss to your temple.

“I have to finish everything up,” you sigh as you try to pull away.

“I graded everything, and I made sure their bags were all made up, and I made sure the stuff for their party is in order… you really need to utilize your classroom parents more; how much did you spend out of your own pocket?”

“More than I’m willing to admit,” you mutter. You pull away from her slightly as you realize everything she did for you. “Mel. You didn’t have to-”

“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to while you got some much deserved sleep. Now, did you eat before you fell asleep grading?”

You shake your head sheepishly against her chest.

“So if I order Korean, you’ll be happy?”

“You know how to treat a girl right,” you sigh in content. Your eyes flutter shut again.

“I’ll call it in and wake you the food gets here,” she chuckles as she kisses your head again.

Your final week with your second grade class passes quickly, and while you grew to love those kids, you find yourself thrilled to be able to set foot back in Abbott with your girlfriend. Ava had graciously added you back on as an aide, even if just for the last week of school- the lord knows Melissa needs help calming down over thirty children during the final few days of school.

You’re greeted with whoops and hollers as you enter the break room. It’s like nothing changed. Melissa makes your coffee in the mug you usually drank, you sit in between the two veteran teachers while you watch the news, and then the two of you walk hand in hand down the hall to your classroom.

“Do they still remember me?” you ask her quietly as you perch yourself on her desk.

“They’ve been chattering about you nonstop,” your girlfriend tells you. “They’re so excited to see you ag-”

“Miss Y/N!” one of your kids comes running in. She immediately tackles you in a hug, and you have to place a hand on Melissa in order to steady yourself before you wrap her up in your arms.

“Hey, baby,” you grin. “I missed you!”

“We missed you!” the little girl grins.

As the rest of the kiddos come trickling in, they greet you with bear hugs and lots of chatter about all of the things the redhead has been teaching them.

Before you know it, you’re saying goodbye to the Abbott crew for the summer, and probably for the foreseeable future. You had been offered your position back at your school in the suburbs, and you hadn’t been offered a position at Abbott- as much as you would love to come back. You leave the school helping your girlfriend carry a few things out of the classroom with a sigh.

“It’s been a good run,” you sigh softly. “I’m going to miss this place.”

“Abbott’s gonna miss you,” Melissa mumbles quietly.

You spend the summer with the fiery redhead, often times at the beach. Occasionally, Barbara would join you, but for the most part it’s just you and your girl.

The beginning of the school year starts to creep up on you quickly though. You’re actually in the middle of decorating your new classroom, Melissa holding the push pins for you when your phone starts to ring.

Your girlfriend glances over at your phone. “Ava’s callin’.”

“Hand it here,” you request, a confused look on your face.

“Hey,” you say into the phone, as you cradle it between your ear and your shoulder. You continue to try to pin up the bulletin board. “Trying to get ahold of Melissa?”

“If I wanted Schemmenti, I would’ve called Schemmenti,” she tells you bluntly. “No, girl, I’m trying to get ahold of you!”

“Oh?” You pause your actions.

“Girl, Latisha just quit ‘cause she got a new job. Suburban white girl couldn’t handle it,” the principal of Abbott says. “So, naturally- as owner of the school: I thought I would bring you back! As a third grade teacher!”

Your eyes grow wide. Melissa’s do too; she can hear the loud woman through the speaker.

You stammer out a “W-what? R-really?”

“Of course!” she grins into the phone. “So, what do you say?”

“I- I have a contract at Old Eagle,” you say softly, a frown on your face.

“So break that bitch!”

“I-“ you pause. You glance at your girlfriend looking at you hopefully. “I can try. When do you need an answer by?”

“Today,” she sighs dramatically. “If you can’t take it, I gotta hire someone else, and it’s gonna be a bitch trying to find someone two weeks before school starts.”

“Let me- uh, I have to go talk to my principal, but I- okay,” you start to think out loud as you climb down from the desk you’re currently standing on.

“Get back to me soon. I can’t hold this job for you forever,” she tells you before hanging up.

Melissa is looking at you with curiosity. “So, what’re you gonna do, hon?”

“I’ll be back,” you tell her as you give her a quick peck on the cheek. “I have to try to quit.”

You practically sprint down to the principal’s office. You speak with the principal about your situation, and despite his efforts to keep you at Old Eagle, you tell him your heart belongs to Abbott.

Two hours later, after far too much paperwork, you return to your classroom- your almost classroom. Melissa had finished your bulletin board for you, and now she’s scrolling through her phone with her cat-eyed glasses on.

“Sorry, hon,” you apologize. “I didn’t think it would take that long.”

“Well?” She looks at you imploringly.

“I have to call Ava and tell her I will be accepting the second grade position at Abbott,” you grin brightly. “And then I have to take all of this down to set it up in my own classroom- right next to yours.”

Ava is delighted with your news, telling you she’s thankful that she won’t have to interview “any boring ass people who will leave in three weeks anyway”. Then she tells you to get your tasty ass into Abbott today if possible to sign your contract and start decorating for your class.

“I know we were supposed to have a nice dinner tonight, but-”

“You signing the papers to get your contract at Abbott is way more important than our dinner, amore,” Melissa says as she starts taking down the things you’ve place around. “And besides, we can always have a nice dinner afterwards.”

The two of you head down to the school in Philly, you sign your papers, and start to set up your room before heading back to her house. You pull your laptop up, eager to sign back in to your Abbott email and check your roster for this upcoming school year. She cooks, and by the time dinner is ready, you’re looking for apartments to move into in Philadelphia.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, hon?” she asks as she slides your plate over to you. “I know you ain’t still looking at your roster.”

“Apartments,” you sigh. “I figure now that I don’t have any ties to my suburban school and my lease is up in October, I might as well make the move out here.”

Your girlfriend bites her lip nervously before blurting out, “What if you just moved in with me?”

You have to stop yourself from dropping your jaw. “What?”

“I mean… you’re always here and spending the night anyway. You have a drawer at my house. Why not just- move in?”

“Are you being serious right now?” You ask her as you stand and make your way to her side of the table.

She gives a noncommittal hum. “It’d make sense. If you-”

“I would love to,” you tell her as you crash your lips together.

The next few weeks are hectic for the both of you. In between preparing for the school year, packing up your apartment, and then development week, you both are up to your eyeballs in work. But you’re always together, and that’s what matters.

There really isn’t even a big shift in moving in with your girlfriend. She was right. Half of your things were there anyway; now it’s just official that the two of you share a home. And it truly feels like a home- much more of a home than the dingy apartment you had out in the suburbs ever was.

On the first day of school, the two of you walk in hand in hand, having taken only one car. You watch the news together with your crew, and then you head off to your own classroom. She heads to hers. And when you go to stand outside of your room to greet your new students, you catch a glimpse of Melissa. In that moment, you know you made the right choice. Abbott is home. Melissa is home.

#abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader

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scarletwinterxx · 1 year ago

Text

your beginning and middle and end - mark lee imagine

hello🥺 sooo this one is a bit longer than my usual posts. think of it as a valentine special. i loved writing this one, i hope you like it too🤍

if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

FEBRUARY 09, 10AM

"That's the fourth date you declined, girl valentines is around the corner" Yun-jin tells you the moment the other guy walked away

"Genuine question, do I need a guy to celebrate it or do I even need to celebrate it?"

"If Valentines has a version of the grinch it would be you"

You laugh at her statement, reading over the small note that was given to you along with a single rose. It was cute, you appreciate the thought but you really didn't want to go out with the dude. You'd rather let them down now than pretend to have fun during a date.

"It's just not my thing" you tell her

"Then what's your thing? Tell me and I will personally look for him"

Looks like luck is on your side because you spot the big clock behind her, your next class about to start.

"Once I know, I'll tell you. I'm gonna be late. Bye" you gather your stuff and rushed out the hall, you can hear her protests making you laugh on your way out.

When you got to your next class, the other students are just arriving. A lot of vacant seats, you choose the one in the middle. You get your notes and laptop out to skim over your notes from the last session.

"Another one?" you hear someone say from behind you making you look up

"Yep, want to read it?" you chuckle, passing the rose over to Mark.

Mark Lee, the boy you sit next to class with. You see him enough around campus to get acquainted. He's friendly, known by many, a poet by heart. And he's also well aware of the failed confessions to you.

The first time you brought a flower to class he didn't say anything, the second time he thought it was from the same person but then the third time it happened right in front of him. He witnessed how you gently turned down the poor lad who was asking you out after handing you a rose.

Mark takes his usual seat beside you before reading the note

"You and Me, on v? huh like Valentines?" he laughs, holding the little card in his hand

"I'd give it a 4 out of 10"

"Ouch, so the lowest one then. I'd say my favorite is still the one about cats" he tells you, passing the rose back to you

Do you like cats? Because I’d like you to take meowt

You remember that one too. You thought it was cringey, but Mark smiled when he read it. You even let him keep the card.

"Do you still have it?" you ask "The card? Oh yea, I drew like little cats all over it. I'm sure it's somewhere in my bag"

"Why? Planning to use it on someone?"

"Yeah right, I think I'd have a bit more game than that" he jokes

"Ha, we'll see about that" you snorted. Missing the way Mark is looking at you with small grin on his face. Trying to be as inconspicuous as he could be.

The two of you might be on good terms but he wouldn't put it past you to reject him too. Since he got to know you, one thing he learned about you is that you're always so sure of yourself. To you, no is a full sentence. You like what you like and say no to what you don't. You're unapologetically you and he likes that.

He's not sure yet whether he likes you or likes you.

"Earth to Mark?" you wave your hand in front of his face, making him break out of his thoughts

"Lost you there, where'd you go" you joke

"Was just thinking about this paper I have due on Tuesday" he says, it's not a total lie. He does have a paper he needs to finish before Valentines day.

"Need help? I have a few works to catch up on too"

"You don't have plans?" he asks, it's like asking if you have a date on Valentines without asking if you have a date on Valentines day.

"Not really no, and if I'm being honest I heard this guy planning to ask about dinner and I'd rather not..."

"Am I... the getaway car?" You chuckle at his question

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but if I could avoid it I would. So library or the cafe near campus?"

He looks at you like he's weighing his options, playfully hitting him on the arm making the guy laugh "Cafe it is, I'll see you there?" he says

"It's a date" you grin at him

FEBRUARY 12, 11AM

"It's not"

"You said she said it was" Jungwoo says, looking at Mark who is currently trying to find something to wear. After that little moment with you, Mark made sure to clear up his schedule for that day. Ofcourse Jungwoo being the nosy bestfriend didn't let it pass without making Mark tell the whole story.

"Also if this wasn't a date, why are you freaking out about what to wear? You're just going to study, are you going to study her?"

Mark throws the hoodie at Jungwoo's face before looking through his closet again, "Maybe it was just a slip of tongue. It's Y/N, she rejects everyone who asks her out" Mark says while his head is buried deep in his closet

Jungwoo rolls his eyes at his bestfriend, Mark swears he doesn't like you like that and yet here he is. He only met you a couple of time, Mark introduced you before when he went to give Mark a book he forgot to bring.

"I can think of something else you want her tongue to slip in" he mumbles, "Shut up, don't talk about her like that" Mark stands up straight, looking at the other guy. Jungwoo holds his hands up, "Sorry"

Mark gives him another glare before getting a hoodie inside his closet, "Whatever, I'll just wear this. Should I bring an extra one just in case?"

"Just in case what? You spill something?" Jungwoo jokes

In case she gets cold, Mark thinks to himself.

"Just cause" Mark grumbles, walking back to his closet to get another hoodie then stuffing it inside his backpack.

"You're going to be late, go have fun at your not a date date"

About an hour after that, Mark is waiting for you at the cafe. He got there first and sent you a quick text. After a few minutes, the door chimed making Mark look up.

And that's when you walk in, a bouquet of blue tulips in your grasp. You look around, quickly spotting Mark. You make your way towards him, Mark stands up to pull the chair out for you. Saying a quick thank you then you set your stuff down.

"Sorry I'm late"

"Nah, I'm just early" he tells you, "You uh the guy caught you?" he jokes, pointing at flowers

"Oh these? No, I got them actually like I bought it this morning. Yun-jin forgot to buy milk so I had to go out this morning then I saw these. Here" then you're handing the flowers over to him

When you notice the confused look on his face, you giggle. This made Mark look more confused at what's happening, "What? No one ever gave you flowers?" you joke

"No, it's suppose to be the other way 'round?" he asks but accepts it nonetheless

You shrug, getting your stuff out

"I don't like flowers, main reason why I always say no to those dudes. I appreciate the effort, I do but it's not my style. But I remember you said these are your favorite during our class introductions, so I got them for you" you smile at him, he smiles back.

"Thanks, no like really thank you" he says, this made you chuckle finding the situation cute.

"Okay, back to business. I do have like three agendas to finish today" you tell him, gesturing at the small stack of papers on the table

"I'll buy you a chocolate cupcake if you finish it all" he offers, your face lighting up at the mention of the sweet treat. Mark also remembers something about you during that class intro.

Actually he remembers everything about you and that day. The professor asked everyone to say their name along with two random facts about themselves.

"Hi everyone my name is Y/N, I love chocolate cupcakes and I can recite the graduation speech from Twilight"

That earned a few laughs from the class, and from him. You really did leave an impression on him. As days, weeks and months passed by the two of you got acquainted.

If someone asks (mainly Jungwoo) Mark when was the exact moment he felt different about you, he can't pinpoint the exact moment. It just sort of happened for him. Maybe from all the small gestures you unknowingly do, or how it's easy to talk to you. You just get him.

"Can you make it two?" tilting your head to the side for effect, making Mark laugh and nod his head "You got it"

A few hours later, and a few cups of coffee the two of you finally finish. Mark actually finished his paper an hour ago but you weren't done with the last module you had to do,

"Are you done? Am I making you wait?" you ask, noticing he stopped doing anything and was just looking at you

"Huh? Oh uh yea, but don't worry about it. I can wait" he tells you with a smile

"You sure? I'm almost done"

"Don't rush it, I'll still buy you the cupcakes" he tells you, you shoot him a smile before going back to work. Meanwhile Mark goes to the front of the store to get you your cupcakes.

You didn't even notice he stood up, focusing on saving the file before sending the final file to your professor.

"And done! Mark?" you look up only to find the seat infront of you empty. You spot him over the counter, choosing to wait and tidy your things in the mean time.

"Hey, you done?" he asks when he got back to your table

"Mhm, finally. Sorry for taking up your whole afternoon"

"No worries, I finished my work too and I enjoyed your company. And as promised, here's your cupcakes" Mark then opens the box, he might as well presented you with a pot of gold with the way you're grinning from ear to ear. Your joy radiating, making him smile too.

"For me?" you asked, he nods his head

"These are the chocolate ones, I got two. The others are their best sellers, then this one I just thought you might like" he points at the cupcake with heart sprinkles on it.

You laugh, getting the box from him "Okay fine, I believe you. You definitely how to make a girl say yes"

He shakes his head, suddenly feeling shy "Believe me I'm not an expert when it comes to girls" he mumbles

"No, but you got this type of vibe about you you know" you tell him, getting one cupcake from the box

"What vibe?"

"You know like someone could've been in love with you for ten years without you knowing, a classic case of unrequited love but not in a mean way you just don't really know. It's the way you see the world, it's always nice, forgiving, full of chances. You see meaning even in little things. You got this boyish charm about you, the kind that girls would pick over their fictional boyfriends. You're better than any guy written by anyone" you tell him not noticing the way he's just staring at you

"I follow you on your socials, it's cute when you take pictures of the moon or the sky. Makes me remember to take a breath and be in the moment every once in a while"

He don't say anything, still processing what you said. He has never heard himself be described that way, atleast not to his face but he doubts anyone can be as eloquent as you.

"Can I ask you something?" he finally finds his voice, you nod at him

"Why do you say no to all the boys who ask you out? besides the cringey one liners and flowers"

You chuckle, "Because I know me. All of them would've just ended one way or another. I know what I want, what I like. I like a guy I can have an actual conversation with from philosophical point of views to something so random. Someone that makes it feel easy to talk and listen to"

"Do you know how hard it is to control my expression when I'm in public? Yun-jin said my face is too judgy" you jokingly add "I'm an open book if you know how to read it exactly, if that makes sense"

"No, I totally get it. You're not complicated or hard to get, they just don't know how to. You deserve more effort than that" he tells you

"See, that's what I'm talking about. If you keep on doing that I'm gonna be the one asking you out" you tease him, the guy across you laughing. Trying to hide his blushing cheeks and fluttering heart.

The two of you talked some more before he offered to walk you home. It's almost sunset when Mark got back to his place,

"And he's back, how was the date?" Jungwoo shouts from somewhere inside. Mark spots him lounging on the couch, taking a seat beside him with the bouquet of flowers on his lap

"You got rejected too?" Jungwoo asks and Mark just shakes head

"Did you forget to give it? Got too shy? I'm pretty sure you're suppose to give it to the girl not take it back home"

"I didn't get it, I mean I got it but I got it from her. She bought me these" Mark clarifies, taking the bouquet to look at it again,

Jungwoo looks back and forth between Mark and the flowers, "Let me get this straight, the girl whose notorious for turning down guys who gives her flowers gave you flowers on your not a date date?"

Mark just stares back at his bestfriend because honestly it doesn't make sense to him too.

"Homegirl got more game than you" Jungwoo says with a chuckle

"She said she remembered I said these were my favorite. I mentioned it once during freshmen orientation week and she remembered"

"Oh my god, he's in love" Jungwoo laughs

"And you know, I gave her cupcakes and she got so happy I actually thought about signing up for baking classes" Mark grumbles, setting the flowers on the coffee table before taking a thrown pillow to bury his face in.

Jungwoo watches his bestfriend realized what he's known for a while now. Mark likes you. He just never said it. It's Mark. He thinks everyone is nice, most time he overlooks the nice gestures of other girls to him thinking it's normal when in reality they were trying to get his attention.

"Oh. This must be serious then. You don't even know how to cook"

"Yeah I know! Like I know I like her, I didn't know I like her." it felt surreal finally admitting it out loud.

"So you do like her? like like her"

"I think?"

"It's a yes or no"

"No, I don't"

"You got him flowers"

Meanwhile back at your dorm, Yun-jin is also interrogating you. You just finished giving her a recap of your day, she was half listening half watching her show when you suddenly mentioned you got flowers for Mark

"Just because I got him flowers don't mean I like him, I just remembered it was his favorite" you shrug, trying to not make a big deal out of it.

"What's my favorite flower?" she asks, you blink back at her coming up with a blank answer

"See! Oh my gosh, my baby girl is growing up" she dramatically hugs you

"Was that weird? That I gave him flowers?"

"No, it's the 21st century. Guys can get flowers too"

"He got me cupcakes too" you mumble, looking at the box on the table.

Yun-jin watches you, smiling to herself. She's with you twenty four seven and she's never seen you like this. There are a few times she's seen you on campus with Mark, you always smile whenever he's around. Choosing not to push further, she gives the topic a rest and changing it to something else

"So what are you doing for valentines? because if you're free I know this dude who's free also-" "Actually Mark and I are hanging out again" you cut her off

"You're spending valentines with Mark?"

"Yea, so uhm actually I'm gonna call it a night. I have classes in the morning, we're meeting again around lunch. Night" then you're making a beeline towards your bedroom.

FEBRUARY 14, 10AM

Come Valentines day. Yun-jin thinks you're out with Mark while the boy is completely unaware he's being mentioned.

Choosing a place you know Yun-jin won't find you, you stayed at the farthest lounge area after class. Most students won't even walk all the way here since it's a long way going back and forth.

Finding a spot to sit on, you spot someone sitting alone on one the benches

"Mark?"

The boy looks up, immediately smiling when he sees it's you

"Hey, you. What are you doing here?" he asks, getting his stuff from the seat beside him to make room for you. Putting your stuff on the table before taking the seat beside him

"I just finished for the day, and currently hiding from Yun-jin"

He chuckles, "Why?"

"She's trying to set me up with a blind date so I pretended I had plans" leaving out the part he was mentioned

"You don't have plans?" he asks, giving himself a pat on the back for not sounding too nervous

You shake your head, "I have something to say though, I might have told her I had plans... with you"

Mark just looks at you, feeling shy under his gaze you look away.

"With me?"

"Yea, sorry. You don't have to stay though if you have plans don't worry about it. Go enjoy your valentines day" you told him a bit too energetic than you intended.

Then he smiles, Mark smiles at you like he's keeping a secret he can't wait to tell.

"What?"

"I don't have plans, I was going to ask if you had plans yesterday but I didn't want to overstep"

"What do you mean? You're just asking" you smile back at him, "Did you think I was going to say no like always? Oh my gosh I swear I'm not as heartless. I wasn't-"

"No no no, of course I didn't think that. I mean I don't think you're heartless" he pauses to collect his thought because right now words are flying out faster than he can think of them.

And if he got one chance at this, he'll make sure to do it right the first time.

Then you start speaking again, surprising Mark once again with your words

"Yun-jin said I smile a lot when I'm with you, now that I think about it I think I do. It's just you're easy to be with, and I feel relaxed like I can talk to you about anything and you listen. It's also so fun to listen to your stories, especially when you get this animated look on your face. And when you laugh before you can even say the joke. Am I rambling, sorry I'm rambling"

He takes your hand, holding it in his. Testing the waters to see how you'll react. When you don't pull away, he gets a card out from his notebook. Then he hands it over to you,

Today we are obliged to be romantic And think of yet another Valentine. We know the rules, and we are both pedantic. Today’s the day we have to be romantic. Our love is old and sure, not new and frantic. You know I’m yours, and I know you are mine. And saying that has made me feel romantic, My dearest love, my darling valentine.

You read the note carefully, a smile slowly forming on your face while Mark watches you. When the thinks you finish it, he speaks up

"I read that, and I thought about you. You're worth more than a one liner, more than a single flower. You deserve poems to be written about you, gardens to walk through with the prettiest flowers"

You playfully hit him, reading the card again before putting it in your bag for safe keeping

"I love it, thank you. Now I feel bad I got you nothing"

"It's okay, I didn't even know I was going to give it to you. I was ready to just hide it in my bag for the rest of time" he admits

"Why? It's so nice though"

"Yea but I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable"

"I appreciate it really. Out of all the notes I received, I'll keep this one"

At that he smiles.

Like how the story began, with one liner notes and a single flower, who knew you'd find a friend and now something more. Mark is someone you didn't expect you'd have something romantic with especially since you're not really looking for it but it makes sense that you'd end up with him. He makes your days brighter, it's like he bring everything that is good into your world.

When you said he's the kind of guy who beats every fictional character, it's true because he gave you something better than a fairytale; a reality worth living in.

And yes spoiler, you do end up with him. The story ends with you and him. Spending all of your valentines together.

end.

#fic #story #tags #nct #nct imagine #nct scenario #nct au #nct fluff #nct boyfriend #nct mark #mark lee #mark lee fluff #mark lee scenario #mark lee oneshot #mark lee imagine

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