#card made w canva

[rainintheevening]

[princessmisery666]

The Full Seresin Service - Part 2 of 3

Series Summary: You and Jake have been dancing around each other for a while. The Dagger Squad set it up so that the dancing stops, but a case of miscommunication could ruin it all.

Summary: The rules are set, the deal is made, and the Full Seresin Service begins. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Right?  

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: Fluff, flirting, teasing, smut, miscommunication.

W/C: 5.2k

Characters: Unnamed female reader (you/she/her), Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace, Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado. 

Pairing: Hangman x Female Reader. Phoenix x Coyote.

Notes: Reader has a call sign. 

Beta(s): @deanwinchesterswitch - thanks for saving the smut section 😄 // all mistakes are mine. Special shoutout to @writercole

Graphics: made by me on Canva.

Master Lists: Series // Top Gun Maverick // Main

I do not give consent for this or any other of my works to be reposted/reworked or translated on to any other account or platform.

You take your bottle of wine and a glass to the room. Your credit card will not thank you, but you don't care right now. You need to drown your sordid thoughts of Jake dropping that fluffy white towel and showing you what’s beneath it.

While juggling the bottle, a glass, your phone, and book, you manage to slip the keycard in and elbow the door handle down, using your butt to open the door and shuffle into the room. 

“Oh crap,” Jake grumbles.

He grabs his T-shirt from the end of the bed, but it's too late. You’ve seen it all, and it doesn’t help that he cups himself, the fabric of the shirt perfectly shapes his cock. He has to be doing it on purpose.

“Sorry,” you say, but don't bother turning around now that he’s partly covered up.

“What are you doing back here?” It’s more of an accusation than a question. “I saw you in the bar.”

“I didn’t feel like reading after all,” you say, walking further into the room and placing the bottle on the nightstand. “What are you doing back here?”

“I lost concentration too,” he says, “came back to change, was gonna work up a sweat in the gym.”

“You brought gym gear?”

“Like you didn’t.”

Urgh. You hate that he knows that you did. You never planned to do a full workout. After all, you're on vacation, but you’d have done some light cardio at least.

You backtrack, annoyed at yourself that you're predictable or that he knows you're better than you like. “And I didn’t say I lost concentration. I’m not that easily swayed.”

He snorts a chuckle, “Could’ve fooled me.” His cocky smirk spreads wide. “You can’t keep your eyes on my face.”

Of course, your eyes betray you, drifting down to his crotch and back up again. “Well, that’s because I’m not blind, and I saw everything and can still see it ‘cause you're holding it like a…a…dick.” You realize your mistake and quickly try to correct it. “I don’t mean a dick like a cock. I mean, you’re a dick!”

Jake laughs, an actual stomach laugh, and you do not take to being laughed at lightly. You grab a pillow from the bed and launch it at him. Naturally, Jake, being Jake, catches it with one hand and replaces the tee with the pillow. 

“Better?” he asks smugly. “Now you can’t see it.”

“Whatever,” you sneer.

“That’s not a yes.”

“Jake,” you scold. “You promised you wouldn’t annoy me. And you’ve already annoyed me by letting Javy and Natasha set this whole thing up, so just stop, please.” 

“Wait? Set what up?”

“Don’t play dumb ‘cause I know you’re not.”

“Pretend I am.”

“The whole fuckin’ dagger squad set it up so we’d team up and win to send us here to…” Your arms flail around, searching for the word, but it doesn’t help, and you drop them, defeated. “I don’t even know what.”

Geez. You hate how flustered he makes you. When you are face to face and not in a cockpit, you always have to be careful about what you say. You're always conscious of how he can misconstrue something or turn it into innuendo. 

“Cosmo, I swear I didn’t know anything about that.” he pleads for you to believe him. “Coyote gave me the ice cream clue, but honestly, at the time, I thought he was playing me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say softly. “We’re here now, so can we just do what we said we’d do and stay out of each other’s way.”

“I will, I promise,” he states. “But I really need you to know I had no hand in setting this up. Us teaming up or winning, or you walking in here and seeing me naked ‘cause that’s disgusting, creep-level shit, and I swear it’s purely coincidence. Coyote texted me about you, and I needed an outlet, so I was going to work out, I swear.” 

“Fuck,” you huff, “Coyote and Phoenix strike again. She texted me, and I needed to stop thinking about it, so I came back here to drink away my…” 

“Feelings.”

“Thoughts.” You correct with an incredulous look. “I don’t have feelings for or about you, Hangman.”

“That’s bullshit,” he states. “You avoid being alone with me ‘cause you don’t trust yourself.”

Shit. He really does know you better than you thought. But you're saved by the bell, or rather the knock on the door. You walk to answer it and hear Jake moving around. You hope he’s dressing to go to the gym.

You take the ice bucket from the concierge and thank him before closing the door. So as not to get another peek at Jake, you keep your head down as you make your way back to the wine on the nightstand. You pour a glass and put the bottle in the ice. If Jake weren’t there, you’d probably swig from the bottle. You need to be done with the conversation and Jake.

“I’ll leave you alone,” he says sincerely. “If you answer me one thing.” 

You gulp half a glass of wine and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “What?”

“Why are you resisting this?”

“Honestly,” you sigh, turning to face him. He’s pulled on a pair of boxer briefs but nothing else. It makes it slightly easier to talk to him. “I’m not a true member of the Dagger squad. You all have this deep bond I’ll never be a part of. I had to earn my place, and sometimes, I’m still an outsider.”

“That’s not true,” Jake argues. “You’re one of us. None of us ever think otherwise.”

“Maybe,” you shrug with a half smile. “But you have a reputation, Hangman. You’re not exactly the stable relationship kind of guy. A couple of weeks with someone is the most you can manage. I know if I gave in to you, you’d get a ‘atta boy’ and proud slaps on the back, but me, I’d lose the respect of our friends.”

“You mean the friends who set this up?” he asks. 

He has a point, and he knows it too. You're silent for too long, and he slowly makes his way around the bed to stand in front of you. “You want this as much as I do. We make a good team. Scrap that. We’re the best team in the air. I wanna know if that translates to the ground, too. There’s something between us that each of us is trying to ignore and clearly failing miserably.” 

You laugh lightly because he’s right. “There’s nothing but lust between us, Jake,” you counter. “We want what we can’t have, the low-hanging forbidden fruit.”

“Ouch,” he laughs. 

“Don’t pretend you're not an easy lay,” you jest. 

The dig of his promiscuity doesn’t deter him. He steps closer, his eyes soft and his tone sincere. “Give me a chance,” he suggests. “A weekend pass. We’ll keep it between you and me. We’ll eat the forbidden fruit, and it’ll be our secret.” he winks. “No one has to know.”

He’s right. Again. No one would need to know, and they’d have no way of finding out. Sure, Hangman could be a douche and tell them, but what proof would he have?

He’s already wearing you down, so there’s no need for the extra, “I promise I’ll make it the best weekend of your life. No-holds-barred. Full Jake Seresin service,” but it’s nice to know he’s committed.

“You know I’m seeing someone. Klay, remember him?” 

“Please, that fizzled out a week ago for you,” he jeers. “You’ve seen him a total of three times in the last five weeks. Two of those were drinks at the Hard Deck, and I gave you a ride home. If I know you as well as I think I do, you’ve got a text saved in your notes telling him you don’t want to see him again. You're just waiting for the right time.”

You really need to put some distance between your personal and professional life. 

“I have two conditions,” you say. 

He nods, smile already morphing to an air of smugness. “Anything.” 

“Whatever does or does not happen, we remain professional. It doesn’t affect our work.”

“Done.” 

“No one knows anything,” you say sternly. “They can guess and speculate, but nothing is ever confirmed.”

“Done.” he holds his hand out for you to shake, but you have other ideas. Stepping into his personal space, you deliver a gentle kiss to his lips. 

His reaction is immediate. It’s a flurry of caressing, groping, and clothing being removed. A hand cradles the back of your head, and the other finds purchase on your hip. The press of his flesh against yours is electric, and you shiver as his tongue sweeps over your bottom lip.

Jake moans as you open up to him, deepening the kiss. His hand slips to your ass cheek as he slowly shuffles you both toward the bed, pink lips now suckling on your neck. You laugh as you both tumble onto the mattress when he misjudges the distance. He’s quick to follow as you shuffle toward the headboard, his mouth latching onto a breast, and his tongue swirls over the taut nipple.

“F- fuck,” you whimper as you arch into him.

Sharp teeth gently graze the nub, and he mumbles, “You have beautiful tits,” as he shifts to suck the neglected nipple into the damp heat of his mouth. Jake’s hands rest on your hips as he knees closer between your legs. A hand replaces his mouth, kneading your breast as he sits up. “I’ve wanted you like this for a long time.”

“Well, now that you’ve got me, what’s your plan?” you snark, eyes mere slits as you stare up at his pretty face. The smirk you typically want to smack from his smug features is now inexplicably sexy as he pops a brow.

“Well, I was thinking maybe a little begging…”

The hard pinch to your pebbled bud contrasts with the soft brush of fingers up your thigh, and your walls clench as goosebumps race across your flesh.

“Maybe a little screaming.” Jake leans forward and presses a hand into the pillow next to your head as the other splays over your stomach, thumb lightly brushing your clit.

You tilt your hips, seeking friction, and he chuckles, shifting his hand up and away from where you need him. Refusing to give him what he wants so easily, you bite your lip to keep the plea locked away.

“Now, now, none of that. I want to hear you.” Jake nips at your bottom lip, pulling it from between your teeth. At the same time, he slips two fingers into your already slick heat, causing you to jerk and moan loudly. “There we go.”

Not wanting to give him the upper hand – you silently chuckle at the unintentional pun – you reach down and encircle his dick with a gentle squeeze.

The steady pump of his fingers falters as he growls, “Shit!” But he grasps your wrist to halt any movement on your part. “Nope. Not yet.”

“Jake,” you whine, dragging out his name. “That’s not fair.”

“I haven’t heard any begging yet.” The pressure of his grip increases, and he pulls his fingers from inside you, slowly licking each one clean as he stares you down.

You hate to admit how easily he got you worked up, but your body betrays you. You’re right on the precipice, and you want him to send you over the edge in the best way. Loosening your hold on his throbbing dick, you whimper, “Please…”

“What was that?” He releases your wrist, capturing your hand and entwining your fingers as he pushes them into the pillow above your head. “Do you need something?”

The smug smile is back, and you have reverted to wanting to slap it off his face, but instead, you give in and plead, “Please… please… I want you to make me come,” while plotting your revenge.

“That’s better.”

He squeezes your hand and swiftly pushes his fingers back inside you as his thumb circles your clit. 

Jake is as adept with his hands in the bedroom as he is in the cockpit of a fighter jet. Within moments, you’re screaming his name, your free hand gripping the back of his neck, your inner muscles contracting tightly around the fingers pressed against that sweet spot.

“Damn,” Jake groans, “that’s so hot. But we’re just getting started.”

Jake struts into the bathroom and presses himself to your back, resting his chin on your shoulder. He smiles at your reflection in the mirror while you set your toiletries out on the countertop. He lived up to his reputation, and after a few rounds of him making you come with his tongue, fingers, and cock you decide to shower to give you both some time to recover.

“You're getting all clean just for me to make you dirty again,” Jake smirks, kissing your shoulder and scrapping it away with his teeth.

“You can get me as dirty as you like,” you say, “but I need to shower.”

“Seems like a waste, but okay.” he shrugs and holds up the room service menu. “Do you want more wine or water?”

“Both,” you chuckle, “we’re gonna need to hydrate.”

“Copy that,” he says before smacking your ass and walking back into the room to put the order in.

You overindulge in the shower because the water pressure is impressive, and the waterfall showerhead is calming. You also need a minute, or ten, to get yourself in check. The sex is phenomenal, but Jake has surprised you. Shockingly, he’s respectful, attentive, and not as selfish as you expected. He constantly checked in to make sure you were okay, and that you liked what he was doing, and though he rarely needed it, he asked for direction. 

You recognize this is dangerous ground to be walking on, but it’s only a weekend, two nights of surrendering to your desires, and then it’s over. You can do this.  

There’s little point in dressing again. Jake is sure to have you naked and moaning again soon enough, so once you’ve showered, you opt for a t-shirt and clean underwear - you need to be somewhat presentable when room service arrives.

You're pulling the garment over your head as you leave the bathroom, but you freeze as soon as your head is free.

Jake is standing beside the prepared table, wearing nothing but a smile and a white towel slung over his arm. The dimmed lights and the candles dotted around the room create dancing shadows on the walls. The table is set for two - silver serving trays with large round lids hiding the delicious-smelling delights beneath them, and a bottle of wine is cooling in the ice bucket. A single rose in a slim vase adorns the center of the table, with a small gift-wrapped box set in front of it.

“Jake,” you gasp, unable to hide the shock.

His smile is full of charm and pride at the reaction. “I told you,” he says, walking closer, “full Seresin service.”

“I’m getting more naked butler vibes,” you jest, accepting his offered hand and letting him lead you to the table.

He laughs, pulling out your chair, “Same thing.” Quickly, he rushes around to his side, picking up the gift and handing it to you as he sits down. “I swear I picked this up before the whole setup and sex thing. It‘s meant as a thank you for letting me join you.”

Intrigue has you ripping off the fancy bow and paper with perhaps too much enthusiasm. It’s a bottle of your favorite perfume, thoughtful, expensive, and unexpected.

“You said it was your favorite back at the store,” Jake explains. 

“Thank you.”

It’s a lovely gesture, and though you don’t want to think about it, you can’t help but wonder how many women have been charmed by the Full Seresin Service. He clearly knows what you want, the romance of it all, but come Monday morning, this will all be a distant memory.

The following day is a blur of sex. Jake doesn’t hold back, and you each teach the other a thing or two. He takes a shower around four and has some kind of epiphany while seemingly enjoying the fancy shower because he exits with a wide grin and a burst of enthusiasm. 

“Do what you need to get ready for a fancy event,” he says.

“What?” you question, watching him pull on sweats. “I didn’t pack anything to wear to a fancy event, Jake.”

“Trust me,” he says, sitting on the chair and slipping his sneakers on. “Take a shower, do your make-up, leave the rest to me.”

“Where’re you going?” 

He grabs his wallet and phone, swipes the room key from the top of the dresser, and gives you a swift kiss. “Trust me,” he says again, leaning back to look at you. “I won’t be long, you’ve got an hour.”

He’s true to his word, and less than an hour later, he returns carrying three shopping bags and a proud smile. 

You’ve applied light make-up and styled your hair, “You look good.” Jake compliments. “Here,” he hands you the largest bag and one of the smaller ones. “Take them in the bathroom, but don’t come out until I tell you.”

He’s far too excited, but you don’t protest his instructions, intrigued by what the big surprise is. 

In the bathroom, you pull the garment out of the bag - a long, bronze, cowl-neck chiffon dress. It’s beautiful and undoubtedly expensive because he’s already removed the tags. There are strappy heels to match in the other bag.

You slip the dress on over your head, careful not to touch your hair, and it instantly makes you feel sexy. The fabric is soft, and the color looks good on you.

“Ready when you are,” Jake calls.

After putting the shoes on, you take a few extra moments to check your reflection, twisting left and right. It’s not the kind of dress you can wear underwear with, and you shuffle your panties off. Now, the gesture of the dress makes a little more sense. You assume there’s something in it for Jake, too.

Jake gasps as soon as you step out. “Wow.” his mouth remains in the O shape while you twirl for him. “Damn, you look… wow.” 

You look him up and down - black suit pants, formal shoes, his shirt and jacket are the same bronze color as your dress. He looks edible, but before the drool can escape your mouth, he’s in your space.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in close to him. He nips your ear. “Maybe we forget the rest of the plan, and I’ll just fuck you in this dress instead.”

“I mean, that is the deal,” you laugh, scrapping your nails down the nape of his neck, “but I’m intrigued about the rest of the plan.”

“Come on,” he grins, taking your hand and leading you out of the room.

The room is filled with joy. Everyone is smiling and happy, people chatting and dancing, eating the canapes being served by the wait staff. Jake feels giddy. He has no other word for it and brushes it off as the atmosphere in the room, but he knows better. It’s you, or rather the two of you.

It feels right. Like the last puzzle piece falling into place after months of trying to figure out the complex picture.  

Jake senses you’re nervous, eyes darting around the room, sipping your drink too often. “Relax,” he says, placing a reassuring hand on the small of your back.

“How can I?” you ask, “we’re gate crashing a wedding.” 

“Act like you belong,” he advises, “We look like we belong. Stop worrying.” He catches a server as they pass, grabs two fresh glasses of champagne from the tray, and hands you one. “To the bride and groom.” 

“Whoever they are,” you toast.

Jake keeps his hand on the small of your back as you each watch the celebration for a while. It’s not only to assure you he’s there but also to make sure anyone looking, and he’s seen a few men looking, knows that you're with him.

“So, Jake,” you start, wistful and light as you turn your back to the room and focus on him. “Is this your end goal? Marriage? Kids? The whole nine yards?”

“Definitely,” he nods, “someday.”

You can’t hide your expression, even though you try by taking a delicate sip of your drink. 

He cocks his brow. “Why does that shock you?”

“It doesn’t, not really. You're a family guy. I’ve seen that on family days and heard you call your sister, but” you grimace around in an apologetic tone, “you don’t exactly pick the settling-down types.”

“Ha,” he laughs. “Okay, that’s fair.” He sobers a little, mind reeling at the list of exes he knows you're aware of to have made that conclusion.

“You tend to go for the jealous, insecure, toxic type,” you explain. “And that’s not to say you’re not as toxic sometimes, but there’s a pattern.”

He scoffs in offense. “Wait a second, when have I been the toxic one?”

“Laura.” You say without hesitation. “You let her believe you and me were screwing because you wanted to break up with her.”

“No, no, no,” Jake corrects, “you got that all wrong. I did break up with her and she assumed it was because of you. That’s not my fault.”

“Did you explicitly tell her we weren’t sleeping together?”

He shrugs, laughing around the rim of his glass. “No, ‘cause I was too busy trying to sleep with you.”

You shake your head, rolling your eyes. “And Nicole?”

“Okay, yeah, she was just a crazy person.”

“I know!” you remember. “She threw a bottle at me in the Hard Deck. If it weren't for Nat’s cat-like reflexes, I’d have a scar right now.”

“That was some kung-fu master shit she pulled. I think that’s what made Coyote fall for her.”

“Don’t change the subject, Lieutenant,” you say. “What about Kate? I had to pretend to be your pregnant wife to get her to leave you alone.”

“Point made, toxic, jealous, and insecure.” he agrees. “I guess I’m not ready to settle down yet, so I keep making bad decisions.”

“Well, what’s one more?” you wink. 

His heart skips, and he feels a little sick. You’re not a bad decision. In fact, you're probably the only good decision, women-wise, he’s made since he was a teenager. 

You're the take-back-home type of girl. The kind of woman he’d proudly introduce to his family. Though the predecessors who had the privilege didn’t work out, he feels if it were to end the same with you, you’d forever be the ex that his family continued to invite to family functions, and his mom would sigh and tell him he’d lost a good one every time she saw you.

“You are not jealous, insecure, or toxic, Cosmo,” Jake says. 

“Exactly,” you laugh. “So clearly not your type.”

He doesn’t correct you, even though you are absolutely wrong. “What about you?” Jake asks. “You want the whole nine yards?”

“I guess, with the right guy.” You finish your drink and put the empty glass on the table. “Okay, if we’re doing this,” you say, “let's do it right. Mr Seresin, may I have this dance?” 

He accepts your offered hand and leads you to the dance floor. A few people give you odd looks, trying to place who you are, but it’s easily ignored.

Jake’s raging boner after one and a half slow songs and perhaps too much winding and grinding for a public place is not so easily ignored. “Let’s get out of here,” you whisper, and he gladly takes you back to the room.

The sex after the wedding was mind-blowing. Jake doesn’t know how, but every time, it gets better. He feels the butterflies in his stomach every time you touch him, casual touches, a brush of his hand, a lazy sleep-hazed kiss. 

It’s Sunday afternoon, the last night, and Jake knows without a doubt that he’s not ready to let this go. It’s not just about the sex, which is fucking - excuse the pun - amazing, but it’s the intimacy of it all too.

You're different. In the confines of the hotel room, you're freer, shameless, and adventurous, revealing secrets that only make him want you more. The pillow talk is deep and meaningful and, at other times, fun and light. Both make him want to talk to you as much as fuck you. 

He lies on the bed, watching you pack your suitcase. The items you won’t need in the morning. “Urgh,” you groan, “I hate packing.” 

“Me too.”

“I wish I was that last-minute kinda person,” you say, folding a clean t-shirt and placing it neatly in the suitcase. You haven’t had much use for the clothes you packed. 

Jake cocks his brow at you in the mirror, “You are wasting precious fuckin’ time.”

“I know,” you say with an apologetic grimace. “The weekend pass expires at midnight. But I can’t not do this.”

He laughs lightly, shuffling off the bed, and saunters over, slipping his arms around your waist while you organize your things. “Worth the price of admission?”

“Absolutely.” You smirk at his reflection in the mirror. “Ten out of ten. Would highly recommend.”

“Repeat customer?” he asks, sucking in a breath and holding it while he waits for your answer. He can laugh it off as a joke if the reply is negative, but he hopes it’s positive.

“I’ll leave the money on the dresser,” you squirm out of his embrace, turning to kiss his lips quickly. “Gigolo Jake.”

“I’ve been called worse,” he admits, delivering a harder kiss to your cheek. “I’m gonna take a shower.”  

The shower is running, but he’s not under the spray. Instead, he’s naked, sitting on the cold closed toilet lid, texting Coyote.

He’s breaking the rules. He knows he is, but he needs to talk it through with someone because what he’s feeling is new and confusing.

<Hangman: I need you to promise me this stays between us. Not even Phoenix can know. 

>Coyote: What’d you do now bro?

<Hangman: Promise me. 

>Coyote: Promise.

<Hangman: I slept with her. 

>Coyote: So?

<Hangman: Repeatedly.

>Coyote: I’m confused. Was it bad or something?

<Hangman: No. It was…

He struggles to find the word, and his cock twitches while his memory replays the last twenty-four hours.

<Hangman: Phenomenal. I wanna do it again and again and again.

>Coyote: 🤣🤣🤣. Sorry to tell you but that’s what happens when you like someone Jake. You go back for more.

<Hangman: Not me. 

>Coyote: Except now you feelin’ some type of way and you’re freaking out.

<Hangman: YES! What the hell man?! It was supposed to be a one-and-done!

>Coyote: Man, I'm the wrong person to ask. I never meant for Nat and me to be a thing but now I can’t imagine not being with her.

<Hangman: Not helping. 

>Coyote: Sorry bro. It is what it is now. Embrace it. 

<Hangman: Embrace it how?

>Coyote: You could start by telling her you actually like her. Do some of that Seresin Speciality romance stuff. 

<Hangman: She has a tattoo low on her hip, a fighter jet in the night sky. I swear there’s a H in the stars. I can’t stop looking at it. It’s like it’s meant to be.  

>Coyote: Wow, you sound like you’re way below the hard deck.

He’s not wrong. Jake’s flying below a level that isn’t safe, and he can either pull the ejection handle or do some pilot shit and finish the mission. 

>Coyote: Phoenix says she’s all for grand gestures and actions speaking louder than words.

<Hangman: 🙄way to keep a promise.

>Coyote: She can read too dude. Sorry.

<Hangman: I forgot you have your text size big enough to read from the moon. 

>Phoenix: 🤣 He does! Now quit stalling. Go tell Cosmo you like her. 

<Hangman: I might have an idea or two for a grand gesture. Thanks for the tip. 

>Coyote: Hey I’m not straining my eyes and having to wear glasses and not being able to fly. 

It probably would have been easier to start a group chat.

Jake decides not to reply. He’s wasting water. Setting his phone on the countertop, he steps into the shower.

He’s not ready to say goodbye to the weekend and go back to reality, and grand gestures should happen somewhere nice and memorable. He needs to set things in motion. 

“Cosmo,” he calls out. 

“Yeah,” you yell back. 

He doesn’t want to scream it at you, so he asks, “Come here, will ya?” while he lathers his hair with shampoo.

He sticks his head out of the shower as you enter the bathroom. You chuckle, smiling as you swipe soap suds off his brow before they trickle into his eye. It’s a sweet and delicate touch, but it sends his heart racing.

He clears his throat. “You’re not scheduled to work till Friday, right?” he asks, though it’s unnecessary because he’s always aware of your schedule.

“Yeah,” you sigh. The reminder brings a touch of reality to the room. 

He feels a wave of nerves but ignores them, hearing Coyote’s voice in his head, ‘Embrace it.’ “How about we stay a couple more nights? I’ll upgrade you to the Premium Seresin Package.”

You chuckle and look a little sheepish when you reply. “Um….yeah, okay. But the same rules apply.”

“Yeah, obviously. I wouldn’t want…”

His phone chiming interrupts, and simultaneously, you both look at the message preview. 

>Coyote: Go chase that flying jet and make her see stars…

“Really?!” you scoff. “Couldn’t even make it back to base before you go shooting your mouth off! What happened to ‘no one has to know’?”

“Cosmo, wait,” he calls as you leave, slamming the door. As quickly as he can, he rinses the shampoo from his hair. “Shit!” There is no towel hanging up, and he has no choice but to exit naked and dripping wet.

You shove your feet into your sneakers, carry-on slung over your shoulder, suitcase zipped and ready to go. “I can’t believe I fell for your bullshit!”

“It wasn’t bullshit,” Jake says, grabbing your wrist to try and get you to slow down. 

“Don’t touch me.” You snatch your arm away. “I can’t believe I trusted you, Hangman. I should’ve known you’d hang me out to dry, too!” You sneer, and the disgust in your expression breaks him a little.

He ignores the jab of hurt that stabs through him, trying again. “Cosmo, I swear it’s not what you think.”

You grab your suitcase handle and march toward the door, but Jake is closer, and he steps in your path. 

He pleads, “Please let me explain.”

“Move.” 

He doesn’t, and instead of asking again, you shove into his shoulder and drag your suitcase behind you. The wheels hit his toes. “Fuck!” he yells, hopping around on one leg, clutching his injured foot before falling onto the bed. “Don’t leave, please, Cosmo.”

But it’s too late. You're out the door and gone.

Part 3 - Didn't Know Then What I Know Now

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[jenchan-writingmultis]

Hi, darling! Sorry for the bother, first and foremost. I've seen a similar post of yours before so I would like to see ur take on Cruella!Reader x Vil if it interests you enough. Their duo would really be smthng, especially w/ such distinct & contrasting personalities. I would love to see it platonic. Have fun & thanks!

Add a Little more Flair

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

A/n: ackk you’re so sweet Anonnie, I didn’t expect being called a darling (๑>◡<๑) and the fic you might be talking about is Beauty in Chaos! Genre: Fluff Pairing: None (Platonic Vil & Gn Reader) Credits: The design was made by me in Canva and the art that was used is all from the Official Twisted Wonderland Cards. The line breakers are from Kaomoji dividers! Masterlist

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

If there was a dormitory you were most suited for, it was Pomefiore, you just felt at home in the luxurious vibe of it, while in your world before, you were someone who got by and was financially stable enough to buy the latest fashion trends of outfits, in this world you had a tiny bit of problem with that.

With no income to take out from, the thaumarks you’re given could only be used for necessities that could sustain you and Grim, any extras would be used to renovate Ramshackle. You were fine with it of course; however, you knew your worth and hoped that the extra overtime you had to put in due to Crowley’s incompetence would soon be recognized and rewarded. He was fortunate you hadn't filed a complaint.

When you first met Vil, you didn’t expect him to look this divine at all, he was the epitome of beauty! However, you knew that he could use a bit of glitz in his taste in fashion, you would expect someone like him to choose colors that truly highlighted his features, rather than the bland shades that made him blend in with all the "Potatoes."

“You know,” You spoke, breaking the tension that was marinating in the living room of Pomefiore, the reason you were there was because Epel decided to invite you to play cards with him, Ace and Deuce, using some new game cards from his hometown that his grandmother gave him, but didn’t expect that Vil would be around and not doing any housewarden duties outside.

“What is it?” Vil glanced down, surprised by your sheer audacity to stop him from scolding Epel for inviting you and the others without his permission. “You’re gorgeous” you blurt out as you touch the helm of his sleeve “But would it hurt you to add a little more flair to your outfits?” you let his sleeves go. Vil’s eyes narrowed “What do you mean by that?” he questioned further, crossing his arms as his eyebrows furrowed, not expecting you to give constructive criticism on his outfit, especially since all he’s wearing is his dormitory’s robe, what’s wrong with it? , but he’ll bite, he’s curious about what you have to say.

“There’s no rule against adding a personal touch to your uniform,” you said, your hand gently clasping his wrist as you pulled him closer, your eyes fixated on the luxurious silk fabric. “You could incorporate some elegant jewelry,” you suggested, your voice trailing off as you imagined the possibilities. “And how about a stylish fur coat? Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“What exactly are you suggesting?” He was growing increasingly confused by your mixed-up words. Did you want him to add jewelry? Wouldn’t that overshadow his face if he wore fancy jewelry or a fur coat? Who are you? Crewel?

“If you’d let me, I’d be thrilled to sketch a design to make Pomefiore’s uniform more lavish!” you exclaim, your earlier composure giving way to enthusiastic fangirl excitement.

“Hey- dude- I don’t think” Epel was going to grab your shoulder, but you ducked down on your bag, opening it and pulling out a sketchbook. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity Epel!” you said, eyes twinkling, “Pomefiore is one of the most eye-catching dormitories I’ve seen out of all the dormitories, it'll be nice if I could find a way to make all of your designs more outstanding”

Hearing that made Vil huff almost proudly, “Well, with a compliment like that” he drawls out, eyes closing as he presses his hand on his head, “If you could present to me a “lavishing” design of an outfit, then you’re free to do so,”

Epel stares at you out of shock, along with your two other friends, even Grim is surprised. “I didn’t expect you to have such a …” Epel tried to find the right word while looking shocked, But Rook popped out of nowhere and finished his sentence. “passionné for beauty?”

“Gah!” Epel squeaks out, while you are busy sketching a quick sketch of your inspiration. “Bonjour” he greets, eyes scanning everyone as he goes beside Vil, who is intently watching. “My, the sketch on the other side shows experience in their work” he compliments you, as his eyes tear off from your book to Vil, “If the outfit they sketch fancies you” he says, as he backs away, creating a bit of distance to fully admire Vil, who glanced at him “Would you consider changing the design of our fair uniforms? Roi du Poison?”

“That’ll depend” he sighs, while he was intrigued that you immediately went to work in front of him, he has an inkling of suspicion that you were related to Crewel in some way, one of the professors that helps him with the creations of designs.

“Here” You shoved the sketch into his hand, and he grabbed it, scanning the piece of work you created, he’s impressed, this looked rather beautiful he’ll give you that, but with how big you made the fur that was wrapped around the host’s shoulder, (which he thinks might be him due to the hairstyle)  you made him look like some kind of beast, which irked him, remembering how Leona is. Overall, the colors that were added were solely complimenting and making the individual dorm robes prettier.

“While I certainly think that the… furs are lovely” he says, looking at you while you look back at him with sparkling eyes, as if you’re waiting for his approval, for some reason, he couldn’t say what he’s about to say to your face, sighing in defeat, he hands you back your notebook. “How about you give me a physical design of this?”

“Really?” you nearly jump as you grab your notebook, closing it swiftly, but freezing up as you stare at him, a nervous smile etched to your face “I… don’t have the materials”

“I know,” Vil said, extending his hand expectantly. A student promptly placed Vil’s wallet into his palm. “That’s why I’ll be sponsoring you for the silk and equipment you’ll need,”

Rook watched the entire exchange with a gentle smile, pleasantly surprised that Vil hadn't rejected the idea outright. Vil was known for his discerning standards and rarely entertained notions he deemed absurd. As Rook tapped his chin thoughtfully and gazed intently at Vil, he wondered if Vil genuinely desired a fur scarf, or if it was a test of your sincerity in your admiration for the Pomefiore Dormitory. New designs were always welcome in Pomefiore, but the housewarden had high expectations for anything that adorned his dorm. As long as they met his exacting standards and were deemed beautiful in his eyes, they had a chance.

“Are you sure about this?” You felt guilty as Vil showed you a credit card, was he going to let you run around with it? It’s a black card too!

Seemingly reading your mind, Vil scoffed. “You’re mistaken if you think I’ll just hand this over to you,” he said, seeing your hand twitch toward the scarf only for it to be pulled away and slipped back into the dark purple wallet. “I’ll be accompanying you to the mall,” he declared. Epel, wide-eyed, gasped, “What?” and quickly went besides you instead of staying behind.

“I doubt you’d know what fabric our dormitory use,” he remarks before shushing you when you were about to speak, knowing that you were about to say the exact fabric that it uses “And even if you do, you don’t have any expenses to create one”

“But-“ he glares at you, effectively shutting you up, he knows you were planning to appeal to him that you can buy the fabric on your own, and while that was what you were planning to do, it wasn’t to max out the credit card, but it’s to avoid burdening Vil.

“I will come with you, no questions asked,” he finishes, turning away, “Also please find an appropriate attire for that, we’ll leave in Friday “As he leaves you stood there dumbfounded, you turned your head to Epel, who looked as shock as you.

“…. I don’t have an appropriate attire to wear for Friday”

“That’s what you’re worried about!?”

The day you were anticipating with Vil wracked your nerves either way, your wardrobe wasn’t exactly befitting you, especially with your will to look as impressive as you are currently, which isn’t as impressive as one thinks.

You only had a few shirts, and some pants that Crowley bought you during his time of vacation the blinding color of bright orange and light blue made your eyes sore, and that design…

You gulp, grabbing it, your uniform’s pants were already dirty, and you would either suck it up and go like this or smell bad, a “pick your poison” type of choice.

“What in the world are you wearing.” Is what Vil said the moment he knocked on your door, expecting a decent outfit instead of whatever monstrosity you decided to assault his eyes with.

“It’s not that bad” you jab, not wanting to look down at all as you tried your best to at least make the colors work but it became a rainbow of disaster instead.

“You’re not going to go out with me in that outfit” he pushes you back in,  as a flurry of protest came out, Grim was currently out with Ace and Deuce, talking about going on a hangout without you as revenge for going to the mall with Vil only. The moment Vil reached your bedroom, you sat down on your bed with a huff, “Surely you’re just creating a mockery of me with how horrendous that outfit is” he said, glaring at the wardrobe as he opened it, only to reveal… nothing. His eyes widen at the sad aura the inside was letting out, it almost looks depressing. “You weren’t just making it up” he droops a bit as you stand up, “my uniform is in the laundry I haven’t cleaned it up” You sigh, feeling embarrassed by the lack of finesse. Vil sighs exasperatedly, offering his hand as he pinches the bridge of his nose “I have spare clothing that would look better on you” he extends his hand for you to take easier, which you do, not wanting Vil to come dragging you out.

Strolling back to Pomefiore with his hand on yours, he immediately goes to his bedroom, opening his own wardrobe, which has its own room.

Vil checked on the plastered tags on each outfit, these were what he had worn long ago, surely there was one that would fit your vibe and whole aesthetic, as you watched from behind him, Vil’s attention diverted to a black outfit that would fit your figure, he promptly takes it out, giving it to you. “Here”

Your eyes fixated on the black outfit that Vil pulled out, feeling a magnetic pull on it as you grabbed the outfit, “I’ll try it on” you declared before Vil could even say anything, a faint smile was now plastered on his face as he chuckles “Very well” he liked people who didn’t question his taste, and much more if they understood that what he picked was simple phenomenal, it fits you.  He couldn’t stop his heart from fluttering since this time you didn’t question or debate him with his taste.

Which made him wonder if he wanted your approval?

The moment he walks out of the wardrobe room, you start to dress up, pushing the fabric down, to smoothening the wrinkles off your outfit. To others the outfit might be extreme considering you’re not going to a fancy party, just going to the mall to go on a shopping spree. However, to you and Vil, looking your best no matter what situation it was crucial.

You stared at the huge mirror in front of you, humming while you thought it looked great however something was missing, more specifically… you look around hand touching each fabric as you feel something soft, eyes widening out of mirth as you grab it out of the hanger, your expression beams as you wrap it around yourself.

“A scarf! Perfect!” You squealed out as you looked at yourself, now you look fantastic!

Vil on the other hand was sitting down, fixing his face with light makeup, the fabric had a subtle sheen, catching the light with every movement, and the jacket's sharp lines accentuated his impeccable taste. Complementing the suit was a silk tie in a deeper shade of violet, perfectly knotted and adding a touch of luxury to his ensemble. It fits him, hopefully your unique taste made your body and face stand out as well as his does.

Although, in his mind, when it comes to elegance, both the body, face, and the attire they’d be wearing speak volumes of what kind of person one truly is.

“I’m done” his thoughts were cut briefly as his eyes darted to where you were, he blinked in surprise at how you looked. The outfit you were wearing was perfect, it made you look elegant, as well as the fur scarf that was draped on your shoulders, he didn’t even think that he had one hiding in his wardrobe, and is that…

“Are those some of my jewels?” he chuckles, standing up and walking over to you. As he pushes your hair back, admiring the intricate design of the earrings you picked out. You’ve outdone even his expectations.

You earned his respect, unaware of his admiration for your taste you sheepishly grin, “You don’t mind right?” you asked, fiddling with your fingers as Vil shook his head. “Nope, I trusted my judgment to let you pick your own clothing after giving you that outfit”

He pats your head before stopping himself, not wanting to ruin the hairstyle you picked out for yourself, “I didn’t expect us to both be wearing something extravagant just to go on a shopping spree” You laughed, nudging his arm “Please, the employees might think we’re millionaires” you joked, making Vil laugh with you. “I am a worldwide known model, they’ll know that, for you though,” he hums, thinking about the possible scandal, which he prepared thoroughly for, as he walks over to his phone, grabbing it. “I decided to go to the mall my father frequents,” he adds, tapping his phone as he texts his driver. “My reputation won’t be scandalized with that mall, since it is often frequented by businessmen and ambassadors”

You nod in acknowledgment, excited to go to a mall with such high profiled people around. “Alright, I’m fine with that” You tap the heels of your feet, trying to fit the shoes that you picked out better, you’re pleasantly surprised that Vil almost had all the sizes, man or woman, which is great.

The moment you went out of Night Raven, Epel went to meet up to you, he looked a bit flustered seeing you in such an outfit that it looked almost natural. He was going to check If Vil was going to drag you but didn’t realize that you wanted to do this in the first place, the bracelet you were wearing, the lipstick and light make up you placed on your face fluctuated your prettiness, making Epel look pale in comparison to you. Rook on the other hand, spouted compliment after compliment to you and Vil, how you two looked like partners in crime, Vil’s nose crinkled as he sighs.

“Enough with the pointless compliments Rook, I appreciate it” he stops Rook, who obediently went silent, a small smile on his lips plastered on his face.  “We’re running late, take care of the dormitory in the meantime”

“Oh, Roi du Poison, I apologize for keeping you,” he says as he walks closer, touching Vil’s hand and placing a kiss on it. “Have fun on your trip, I’ll make sure to keep Pomefiore in flawless shape once you’re back”

Vil nods as he opens the door to the back seat, letting you go in first before he does. The driver greets both of you with a good morning before Vil instructs him to drive.

You had a mirror with you as you reapplied a bit of your chipped makeup because Epel hugged you tightly to the point some of your makeup stained his uniform, hopefully, the foundation you used was easy to take off, worried for your friend’s outfit.

During the whole ride to the mall, you and Vil were silent, both busy with your own thing, the driver who thought you might be Vil’s lover started to feel uneasy that he might have gotten it wrong, happy that he didn’t decide to pry into Vil’s life.

After the ride, you and Vil managed to arrive at the mall safely, your eyes once again sparkling as your heels tap on the pristine floor, the whole vibe of the mall screams luxury, with well-known brands from all over the world spreading out. Louis Vuitton, Chanel, and Prada are on the first floor already. “Wow” you gasp out while Vil smiles, no matter how many times he has gone here already, the architectural designs of the building never fail to impress him either way, the mix of nature and intricate designs, it made him feel at home sometimes.

Too bad you’re only around here to buy fabrics for the creation of the uniform you desire. “Where should we go from here?” you asked, eyes tearing away from admiring and back to Vil’s face.

Vil hums as he walks forward, not looking behind since he knows you’ll follow, like a chick to a mother hen. “Since we’re already here” he trails, “might as well buy something for you”

“What?” your eyes widen, buying, here? Sure, you could do that in your world before, but currently, you don’t have a cent to your name as Vil only gave you a dismissive wave. “Think of it as repayment for helping me snap out of my Overblot” he says, hoping that this adventure of yours wouldn’t look like he’s always going to give out charity.

“Also” he adds, staring down at you realizing the stark contrast of your horrendous outfit to the one he recommended you in, “I rather see you in decent outfits than that monstrous combination you had due to your limited wardrobe” “Fair” you said, nodding at that outfit you had to force yourself to wear.

Half of the day was spent with you and Vil idly picking dresses, outfits that would fit you, ranging from what you can wear for outside, inside, formal and others. Vil seemed to have said less about your unique taste, realizing how much you love synthetic fur, similar to Crewel.

“Are you related to Crewel?” he asked since you two recently just finished a shopping spree, with him carrying your bags since he could never let you carry Them, you carried a few bags, but most of it was carried by him, you, who was munching on the parfait you ordered. “No” you flat out said, if you were related to him, he would have given you plenty of outfits instead of leaving you with one uniform and a few other uniforms such as PE pants and shirt.

“Your taste in outfit reminded me of his” Vil hums out, taking a bite of the banana cue desert. “Oh please, if he was truly related to me,” you add, pointing the spoon at Vil, “You think I would have to wear that blinding orange, blue pants with matching maroon colored shirt?”

Vil laughed pushing the spoon down with his spoon “Seriously” he chuckled, hiding his lap using his hand. “You’re hopeless with that outfit, I’m glad I dragged you here”

You smile softly, liking the way that he relaxed around you. You and Vil were like two peas in a pod. After taking a quick break, you grabbed the sketchbook you had out, looking at the fabric you needed and how much you needed. Vil stared at the sketchbook before guiding you up to the last floor, where they sell fabric. “Is this where the fabric for Pomefiore was bought?” you asked, curious if that’s how expensive it would be if that was true, imagining the expenses already made you dizzy.

“Of course, not” he flat out said, making you droop “Then what’s our trip for here?” you complained, unsure if you want to use any other type of fabric if you’re truly set out in changing the form of their attires.

“Fret not” he says rather confidently, “The fabric here is more top-notch than ours,” he says “If you manage to create a fascinating example of your sketch, then I’ll try contributing extra money to have the headmaster let us handle the major changes,” he says, causing you to think about it more deeply. If you could do a good job in this, then your desired outfit will come true!

Nodding to Vil, you went ahead and went inside the store to get the necessary things you need. It only took you about an hour to pick as the employee is ecstatic to see the Vil Schoenheit buy from them. After finishing, Vil was already having trouble carrying the plethora of bags, so you two decided to sit down for a second, as he calls for the driver.

The driver immediately went to aid both of you, sweat dropping when he saw how many bags you and Vil had, is that even going to fit the trunk?

Miraculously the driver managed to get it all in, with minimal struggling, he should get a raise for his hard work as he smiles proudly at Vil, who gives him a tip for his work. “Good job, my father compensates you fairly, yes?” he asked as he went in, the driver pocketing the money as he nodded. “Yes sir, thank you for trusting me in your endeavor,” he said, as he started the car, quite happy that Vil was like his father, nice and sweet.

The moment they reached the Night Raven College’s parking lot, Vil already had a few students called out, specifically Rook and Epel, who was surprised by the number of bags. “Some of them shall be distributed to the Pomefiore students” he states, Epel is surprised remaining as he received an article of clothing, this is… a clothing from Prada?!

You who went out looking pretty as ever went to hug Epel who hugged back, but he just showed you the contents of the bag. “What is this?!” he asked, hoping that it wasn’t your money or you who coerced Vil to buy such expensive clothing.

“I didn’t! that’s all your housewarden’s doing” you teased, ruffling Epel’s hair. While Vil went to speak with the other students, handing them distinctive clothing that he put a lot of thought into buying, the driver went to give you the fabric and designs you had bought.  Carrying it, you walk to Vil. “Vil” you called out, catching Vil’s attention almost immediately, you seemed to struggle carrying the heavy bag so he advised Rook to carry it, which he did without complaining. “Thank you” You were starting to take off the gold jewelry you were wearing since you are planning to go back to your Ramshackle, thinking about how you left it locked all day, plus you wanted to start working on designing.

Vil stops you as he sighs “Just keep it, wear it whenever we go out” he adds before touching your cheek and giving it a pinch “It suits you, get some rest, I’ll be taking my rest as well” he advises, making you smile. “Sure, Good night Vil,” you said as you took off your heels, feeling the sole of your feet throb from all that walking. “Rook, you don’t mind escorting them back right?” Vil said, as Rook nodded, “Of course Roi du Poison” he looked down at you “You don’t mind me right Trickster?” he said softly, you laughed slightly“Of course not,” you said, as you were going to rest for awhile at first, but Epel seemed to have noticed that your legs were starting to hurt, he goes to take his shoes off, giving it to you. “Here, your feet looked bad” he mutters, as you watch him kneel down, grabbing your leg. “Oh!” you jolt at the sudden gentlemanly behavior of your friend, who seemed flustered having to do this. “Thank you, Epel,” you said, after he finished you ruffled his hair making him whine “Hey!” As you bid farewell to the Pomefiore students and the housewarden, Rook was silent throughout the way back to Ramshackle, he stood there, as you checked to see if the door was still unlocked, and to your surprise, It was unlocked, upon opening it you see Grim who was playing cards with Ace and Deuce. “Took you long enough!” Ace glared at you, clearly disdained at the idea that you had to be gone the whole day. “Grim was crying the whole time you were gone” Deuce teased as he placed the +4 uno card down, making both your friends whine and throw the Uno cards down. “I quit!” Ace huffs, clearly annoyed that Deuce was kind of good with this. You chuckle as Rook goes inside, “Bonjour” he greets them once again with a smile, seeing the heavy bag, the trio went to clean the table in order to make way for the bag.

“Merci” Rook says softly, as he lets the bag go. Grim already went to look inside, expecting tuna but all he saw was fabric. “What is this?” he whined as you sigh, sitting down on the couch, and planting your head on the soft pillow. “You were there when I asked Vil to let me design the robes right?” “Yeah” Ace nods, scratching the back of his neck, “I thought you were joking?” he admitted, making you laugh. “That’s ridiculous,” you said, as Rook smiled. “I admire your resilience Trickster” he turns around “I hope to see the fruits of your labor soon” he adds as he waves goodbye, to you and your friends, not wanting to intrude further. You sigh, realizing that you showed your project to Vil way too early, not thinking about the amount of hard labor you’ll have to do, while you’re happy with the outfits he bought you aren’t exactly sure if the payment matches the labor you’ll be doing.

Realizing your little problem as if he’s a mind reader, Ace sighs “We can help you if you want” he offers, making you glance at him, Deuce didn’t seem to be bothered by the idea. “I agree,” he adds “It’ll be payment for helping us on the overblot last time”

Grim who huffed, crossing his arms while he flops his ears “I guess it’s fine by me too”

“You guys…” you smile, jumping on them as you hug them tightly, “Thank you so much” you said, happy that they were friends you could rely on.

So, in a few weeks, you had help, making the workload much easier, the design had to be tweaked and you went to Pomefiore just to measure Vil’s width, height, and length, taking an extra robe for reference too.

You truly made your friends go ragged, Ace looked like he’s on death’s door with how he’s been cutting fabric, and measuring it, while Deuce helped you with knitting, and Grim, whose tiny paws were starting to get tired of holding your sketchbook.

After a whole month of nonstop grinding, you were happy that schoolwork was lenient as well, with the professors busy preparing for other events, and guiding each individual club.

The moment your past sleepless nights finally paid off as the design you created came to life, your eyes sparkled, falling down on the floor, making Ace catch you. “Hey! Careful!” he scolds you, but you just laugh. ‘It’s done” you said, feeling exhaustion creeping into your system, “Hey… Call Vil I’m going to…” before you can even finish the sentence, your vision goes black.

The only things you felt were being carried, placed on something soft, as you drift into sleep.

After a few hours, you heard talking, making you stir up from your sleep. “… the fabric is nice..” you heard as you regained your senses, with Vil already tracing his fingers on your finest creation. You jolt awake, and the sudden sit up made your head ache. “Don’t move” Vil said, noticing you’re finally awake as he walks towards you, giving you water. “You…” he glares at you, eyebrows knitting in frustration. “I never set a deadline” he said apprehensively, “So why in the sevens did you have to push yourself that hard?”

You scratch your cheek sheepishly “Sorry, I thought that if I don’t finish it within a month you would forget” you admit, knowing that Vil’s expectations were high you truly didn’t want to disappoint him.

Vil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose once again when he felt a migraine coming. “You did a great job,” he says, making you jolt cause that compliment was out of nowhere “But if you created the outfit with moderation” he adds, standing up from kneeling to go to your eye level, “I wouldn’t feel guilty for having high expectations for you.

“Wait, do you mean?” you frown, your hard work would go to waste if he disregarded it. “The outfit is fascinating, however, I cannot just implement such a complicated design”

You were close to crying, all that work just for nothing. “However” Vil added with haste “I could wear this in occasion” he said, “Like foundation day, I’ll keep this” It was rare for Vil to stumble over his words, placing a hand on your head, “So, don’t cry, you did great, splendid even” Feeling relief wash over you, you lean to the pat, “Thank you”

[everparanoid]

For you, I'd steal the stars w/ Wriothesley

Modern Teyvat Au! Wriothesley x f! reader

cw: fluff, minor hint at soulmates.

word count: 3.5k

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠...

╭────────────────────────╮

Wriothesley couldn’t recall how he found himself standing on an unimportant cyan Tuesday afternoon in Autumn, staring at a painting in the Fontaine National Art Gallery not too far away from his office. The painting, Wriothesley reckoned, couldn’t be any larger than two sheets of parchment and yet it hung alone in the centre of a white room. A masterpiece of simplicity. Above him, a giant white ball spun in slowed motion as plain as the rest of the room, a compliment to the art. The canvas however was a deep navy blue, the same shade as the night. Covering this deep blue were speckles of white, spontaneous in their positions. Some gathered in clustered constellations unknown to man. Others, singular. In the middle a golden speck shone, overwhelming the image the longer he stared. He stared and stared until it appeared to be shooting out of the blues and whites and filling his vision. He couldn’t for the life of him understand why such a simple concept had moved him. Why an image alone in a room far away from all the other extravagant displays of artistic prowess had managed to give him such peace; for in the time that he had been staring at the image—lost to time and the world—he had experienced a thousand lifetimes. He’d been everything; from a small sapling to an ancient oak tree; from a huge wolf to a small squirrel; from a primordial narwhal to a tiny transparent fish swimming in the bottom of the darkest blue seas. He’d experienced nations crumbling and rising again and loves that transcended time and space. All beautiful. All but a millisecond in the eyes of the vast universe.

“To you in every universe,” an unknown voice said.

“Huh?” Wriothesley responded, his attention stolen. His reality returned to the same bleak normality which he had just escaped.

You nodded to the painting, “That’s its name.”

He stared at you with an uncertainty reserved for strangers. He hadn’t heard your footsteps as you entered the room nor had he seen you stop beside him, and yet here you were. A stranger. A golden fleck in his blue world.

“Are you interested in it?” You spoke using a soft tone that Wriothesley particularly liked. He hadn’t heard a voice like yours before. He hadn’t heard much past the same blue tones of business tycoons and wannabe entrepreneurs who wished to fill his and their pockets with mounds of green. Being a successful CEO of a Fortune 100 made one lose the many colours of life to shades of blue and green. At the end of a long day, he often found himself wondering what the sun might look like beyond the aeons of blue.

“In what, sorry?” he responded, confused.

“The painting.”

He noticed your name card pinned to your collar announcing you as a member of staff from the gallery.

“Oh, yes. I am,” he said almost sheepishly; his interest was still new to him. Wriothesley always prided himself on his curiosity though he’d never thought himself to be one interested in art. Yet on that random Tuesday when his assistant had got his meal wrong, he’d found himself wandering into the art gallery as if compelled by some supernatural force. “I’ve never seen this before.”

Wriothesley was sure that if he had known such a masterpiece was here, he would have come to see it.

“It’s new,” you said.

“Ah, I see.”

He felt your eyes linger on him for a second before you continued. “Most people are disappointed when they pay the five thousand mora to get past the security only to see this.”

He supposed objectively that he could understand why. If one was hoping for a room of mirrors or a light show they were bound to be disappointed. Then again five thousand mora did buy a meal deal at the local supermarket. But what was five thousand mora to him?

“How long has it been here?” he asked.

“As of right now?” you appeared to be looking up as if calculating, “Three weeks.”

“And how are the numbers?”

“At first people came for the exclusivity and the curiosity. But because the artist is anonymous, they didn’t advertise their art. It’s their thing, I guess. A sort of authorless art. I think it lets people project more. You know? Imagine themselves as the artist…”

Wriothesley did know. Even as a successful man, more than half of the projects happening in Fontaine were due to his discreet puppeteering. He did not like the limelight. He’d make appearances here and there but the people who needed to know him knew him, and those who didn’t could read the credits. It was his philosophy that one didn’t need their face everywhere to do their job.

 “But now… I guess we are lucky if we get twenty people in a week. There is other interesting stuff to look at in the gallery so…” your speech faded off.

Wriothesley hummed in acknowledgement.

“Honestly, there aren’t many people that show true interest in this piece,” you continued.

He could feel the excitement seep from your pores like solar flares, and he almost found himself stepping closer to absorb its heat.

“Do you want to know about it?” you asked suddenly.

Buzz Buzz.

“No,” he hesitated, glancing down at his phone. “Thank you.”

Your shoulders dropped but your smile remained.

“It’s okay.”

“Perhaps another time?” He found himself saying. He hadn’t known why he had proposed that. He had no intentions of coming back. He didn’t have the time to come back. To see; to stop; to experience, but he would. He knew that he would. Even if he had to make the time. He’d return in hopes of experiencing that feeling once more.

#

On a random cerulean Tuesday in Winter, he returned. It had been two months since he first witnessed the painting. Once again, he had wandered into the art gallery during a lunch break. And once again, he stood in the empty room. Alone. Lost in a dream within a dream. This time, as he stared into the painting that had once again entranced him, he became a blade of grass growing next to a beautiful flower. Watching it; admiring it; loving it. He couldn’t understand why in every instance you seemed to seep in. He didn’t know you, and yet it felt like he’d seen you in everything since that day.

‘A moment where time stops, worries fade, and everything feels right. That is the feeling we are chasing. That is the feeling we must never stop searching for. In those moments, I will recognise you in every lifetime. Across every state of being. My heart will seek out yours like eyes do at night, in search of a northern star. I will seek you in every beautiful thing. To you in every universe—’

Wriothesley leaned back, perplexed. The plaques lining the walls of the white room and under the ball held no information about the artist. What had it meant? He couldn’t fathom the thought of something so abstract.

“It’s you,” that same voice from before said from behind, tearing Wriothesley from his thoughts. He didn’t need to turn to know that the owner of the voice was you. Your silent presence had a magnetic quality, pulling him in without him realising it, and suddenly there you were, standing beside him.

“Hello,” he said, though the greeting felt insufficient when he laid eyes upon you. He couldn’t decide whether you had grown more beautiful, or his memory hadn’t held up the splendour that took his breath away when you stood with that genuine smile on your face, and your hands tucked into the pockets of the blazer you wore. You looked like a painting yourself, like something that had just stepped out of a Constable landscape and wandered into the gallery. An angelic apparition. You had a gentle sway to you like you couldn’t stand completely still. Wriothesley wondered if a gust of wind were to blow through the white room, would it blow you away too, like a leaf flees a tree in a breezy morning?

“Did you experience something different this time?” you asked.

Wriothesley’s features darkened. You couldn’t possibly see into his mind, and he wasn’t one to wear his emotions on his face. He’d learnt not to.

“Have I been standing here for a while?”

You shook your head. “No more than ten minutes.”

He blinked.

“It felt like longer, right?” you asked, cheerily.

“A lifetime,” he admitted, his voice softening.

“It does that.”

“Should I leave? Am I holding up the line?”

“No, you’re good,” you said. “No one comes here anymore anyway.”

You turned to the painting. It hadn’t changed, and yet for Wriothesley, the beauty of it seemed to spill out of the edges and illuminate you. Golden. Flickering. He found himself stealing glances at you, an intriguing stranger who had effortlessly piqued his interest. An intriguing stranger, who he only knew the name of and nothing else. Unconsciously, he leaned toward you, and you did too, as if pulled into each other’s gravitational field.

“Why is it alone?” he asked.

You stepped back and looked up at the giant white ball above, spinning in slow circles, and then to the plain white walls in the otherwise stark room.

“It’s not alone.”

“But it is,” he snapped, growing quite annoyed with his inability to understand your abstractness.

Wriothesley liked answers. Puzzles were fun, and they had their place in his world, but answers were like keys to locked doors.

“What makes you think that just because there is a singular piece in a room the whole place is not art?”

His brows furrowed.

Your smile widened as you turned to the painting. “If this room was filled with paintings, would you have noticed it?”

“No.”

“Why?”

He didn’t have time for this, but he couldn’t seem to tear himself away from you and your questions.

You took another step back, and Wriothesley watched you as you stopped directly under the giant white ball this time. With an open hand outstretched to him, he gathered that you wanted him to join you in the centre of the room. Eventually, he took one long step, and then another till he stood closer to you but not beside.

You lowered your hand.

“Let me put this another way for you, when you sit in your—” you looked him over, “meetings, and you attend your fancy work dinners, do you notice all the art around you? The furniture, the architecture, the choices made by your colleagues to look expensive. Do you stop to take it all in or does it become lost in singular shades of monotony?”

Wriothesley pictured the blues and greens of his life but dismissed the idea of you understanding his thoughts. “You don’t make millions by not noticing.”

You shrugged. “But you do become numb to it.”

“Correct me if I am wrong, but you’re saying that the whole room is art?”

Wriothesley couldn’t say that he was fond of modern art, but he did appreciate that it had a time and place.

“This room, stark and colourless, is as much a part of the painting as the painting itself. Without the painting, the room remains devoid of colour, but with it, the room comes to life. It’s as if the artist intended the painting to be a guide in an otherwise monochrome world. By which, you who see it realise that the painting was never confined to the canvas. But can see the beauty of the entire world, in all lifetimes, across universes. Or maybe it is something completely different, art is subjective after all.”

“To you, the world must be a beautiful place,” he mused aloud.

“And yours is not?”

He chuckled, “I can assure you it’s not as vibrant as yours.”

“What makes you think that mine is vibrant? What if mine is like this room? Bland and empty.”

He wouldn’t believe it, but then again, he wouldn’t not believe it either. It was always the people with the brightest souls who hurt the most.

“I’ll do you one better. What if it’s mine?” he asked.

“Are you seeing your golden star right now then, mister?”

“It’s Wriothesley, and maybe.”

Wriothesley noticed your eyes widen briefly before you suppressed a small smile and took a step back. “Well Wriothesley, I’ll have to agree. It is yours. It’s your mind, your world. The painting is your universe. At least that’s how I think the artist intended it.”

“There is no artist,” he said.

You tilted your head to the side slightly and clasped your hands behind your back.

“There always is,” you said and glanced back at him before returning to the painting. “If you have the time to hear about them, I will gladly tell you.”

In his pocket, his phone rang, filling the silent room. His time was up once again.

“Next time,” he said.

A sadness flashed across your eyes before you smiled.

“Sure,” you said.

#

A month passed, and the sad lingering look in your eyes haunted Wriothesley through his blue days. Green still rained from the sky, but every time he caught a glimmer of gold passing his office or on the street, he’d imagine it was you.

On a random Wednesday in Winter, one that felt more azure than usual, Wriothesley came again to the gallery. But this time, the white room was filled with modern paintings. Gone was the white ball and the night sky painting, and you. Gone was the security guard who would grumble every time Wriothesley dropped a small wad of mora in the man’s hand to let him into the paid exhibit. In its place, people heaved; phone cameras flashed and made snapping noises as they posed before the art, hoping to add it to their social media feed. Wriothesley didn’t enter the room; he couldn’t. He didn’t like crowded places, and none of the art was of interest to him. And none of them were you.

Wriothesley cleared his throat and straightened his tie as he approached the help desk by the entrance of the gallery. Behind it sat an older man, staring down at his mobile phone, humming along to a Vocaloid song that played in his earbuds. Beside him, a younger man, barely eighteen, who looked excited at the possibility of not staring into space any longer, waved Wriothesley over.

“Can I help you, sir?” the young man said. His name card, Timmie, glimmered under the artificial light.

“Yes, I think you can,” Wriothesley began. “There was an exhibit here about a month ago. One with a singular painting in it—no artist.” He wanted to ask about you but thought better than to do that.

“No artist?” Timmie asked.

“Yes, no artist.”

Timmie rubbed the back of his neck as if he couldn’t comprehend the idea of an exhibition without an artist.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I am.”

After apologising quickly, he began typing aggressively at his keyboard. Typing and then deleting and typing again. Presumably, he was bringing up the list of art that had been exhibited over the last year. Wriothesley waited, tapping his foot, and watching people pass, nodding at the occasional person who stared.

“I’m sorry, Sir, I can’t seem to find the exhibit you are talking about.”

Wriothesley frowned.

“Oh? But it was here last month?”

“It’s not showing up on my files without an artist’s name unless you remember the name of the piece?”

“To you in every universe,” Wriothesley said, remembering only the colour of your eyes and the gold aura that seemed to follow you. He was sure he’d remember that name until all the stars left the sky.

Timmie typed it out, and for a second, Wriothesley had hope. Until Timmie looked up and said, “Oh, that. It’s moved temporarily to the International Modern Art Gallery in Inazuma.”

“Inazuma?”

Timmie nodded.

“As has the artist,” His eyes widened. “Who would have thought? She’s one of our own.”

Wriothesley perked up at the information.

“Did you happen to have her name by any chance so I might look her up?” Wriothesley asked, trying to mask his desperation with cool indifference.

“I mean if you want,” Timmie said.

#

In the art shop attached to the gallery on an emerald Friday, more than a year later in Spring, Wriothesley found you assisting an elderly woman, wrapping a print of a painting. He paused, captivated by the sight of you. You were even more stunning despite the time passed and in comparison to the modelesque women he saw in his everyday life. Your beauty, accentuated by the soft lighting of the shop, and your radiant smile, seemed to light him up inside. He lingered amongst the shelves waiting for you to finish up with the elder woman, who was eagerly telling you about her seventh great-grandchild, to which you seemed to listen with just as much interest. He found himself mirroring your joy as he admired you until he stumbled upon a postcard of the piece he had spent months searching for. The one that had moved to Inazuma, then to Mondstadt, then to Snezhnaya, Sumeru, and Natlan, till he bought it at an auction, white room, giant spinning ball, blue painting, plaques, and all. In this picture, the last plaque was too small to be noticed, just as it had been when he’d stared at it both times in person. But he knew it was there, the final part of the collection of plaques. And the full name of the exhibition.

When the elderly woman left, he approached you, his eyes locked on you who had become his universe.

You looked up and smiled, “It’s a beautiful piece,” you said, gesturing to the postcard in his hand.

“It is,” Wriothesley replied, his gaze fixed on you rather than the inferior postcard print. Nothing could compare to the real thing. “But the exhibition has gone.”

“It has,” you confirmed. He was sure you knew that it was him who bought it. It wasn’t hard to figure out, he was obvious despite his outward coolness.

“Are you leaving too?” he asked, a hint of concern in his voice. He had thought you were a dream. You’d been gone for so long that he feared he would have to wait a lifetime.

“Why?”

“You weren’t here,” he said, trying to keep his voice casual.

 “I was volunteering at a cat shelter,” you lied. “Did you miss me?”

“Mildly,” he responded, though he too was lying.

“Only mildly?”

He laughed, “Okay, maybe a bit more—”

“Just a bit?” you interrupted, your eyes sparkling.

“I missed your commentary,” he admitted.

“My commentary? Wow,” you said, feigning surprise.

“Oh? Not enough for you?”

You shook your head, your eyes dancing with mirth. He pretended to think, but in truth, he was searching for a simple way to express such complex emotions.

“I missed your sunny presence,” he finally said.

“My sunny presence?” you echoed.

“Are you going to keep repeating everything I say?” he asked, unable to suppress his smile.

“Maybe,” You leaned forward on the counter, your intelligent eyes tearing down his icy walls. “What have you been up to? Aside from missing me, of course.”

“I just abandoned a meeting to chase after a shooting star,” Wriothesley confessed, for once wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“And? Did you catch it?”

“Half of it,” he affirmed. “When does your shift end?”

“I’m just finishing. Why?” you asked, curiosity piqued.

“I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee with me?” he proposed, hoping he wasn’t too late. He’d already blocked off the rest of the night. He’d block off the rest of the year if he knew he’d get to spend it with you.

“I don’t like to drink coffee this late.”

“Tea, then? With dinner? I would love to hear about the artist of that piece. What was its full name again? For the painting and the room.”

“To you in every universe—” you began.

“For you, I’d steal the stars,” he finished. “Very sneaky of you by the way.”

Your lips parted as you took in a breath.

Wriothesley could feel every nerve in his body fighting to touch you, to be closer to you. You who brought gold into his monotonous world. You who he’d steal all the stars in the universe to be closer to.

“You know I never believed in coincidences,” Wriothesley said.

“Neither have I,” you said.

“I learned a long time ago that if you want something you have to fight for it. So, no pressure of course, but does tea and dinner sound good?”

Your grin was a small act that set his night sky ablaze with more glimmers of gold. To him, the shop couldn’t be filled with any more colours than they were then. Gone were the shades of green and blue, washed away by a spectrum of magnificence; where suddenly he was him and you were you, existing in the same universe.

“It sounds perfect,” you said.

╰────────────────────────╯

KO-FI MASTERLIST

[cozymochi]

ALTERNATIVELY TO MY PREV QUESTION <3

Is there any saved something you have which needs context, and that you definitely could write a whole post essay about, and maybe even wanted to, if someone had only asked or only the opportunity had arisen?

And if so, would you like to use this ask as a perfect excuse to do so~? ;)

One time I conceptualized a 1st year sleepover at Ramshackle event type thingy. They’ve had them before but what can i say— im a sucker. It’s was more so catered specifically towards things involving my MC and their specific issues, but, for brevities sake— it involved trying to cheer up the Prefect, then in trying to come up with something cool to do, one guy has a brilliant plan and it suddenly becomes an unwanted escape room/home-invasion horror movie thanks to a magic skeleton key that fucked with Ramshackle. I never ironed out the details. But here are 5 out of 6 hypothetical “cards” I drew for it.

These are all hella old, and the only thing that bugs (aside from never finishing Ace’s rip, sorry😭 ) is that I drew them on a canvas that was too small and I didn’t notice until it was too late!! Then i had the grand idea to make them bigger, but that made them more jank. So the quality has been compromised across the board. There’s a lot I’d change design wise nowadays. BUT I’M STILL a fan of Deuce and Ortho’s appearances specifically (even if there are minor things i’d adjust, like maybe Ortho’s pose since i wasnt comfy drawing him and his machinery aesthetic yet.)

Hypothetical “SSR” belongs to Sebek because at the time he didn’t have an event specific one. This era was a throw a bone W. Nowadays I just want the guy to always have Ws.

It’s a little janky presentation wise across the board imo, so if I ever come back to this one day with more refinement, everyone is getting redone. And maybe Ace can be an “SSR” too to make up for never finishing his image (not showing the old wip). No promises though, even dropping this much in the states they’re in is enough to shoot my nerves tbh. I like the base idea fine, but it could do with a lot more refinement everywhere. AND NEXT TIME I’D REMEMBER THE RESOLUTION SIZE. BUT YEAH THATS IT REALLY the end. This wasn’t an essay this was venting lmfao rip

[alaezasmystery235]

PILE 1 -> PILE 2 -> PILE 3 -> PILE 4

↛ Paid Readings ��Pick a Cards

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝒶 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝒹 ; 𝗚𝗹𝗶𝗺𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗕𝗶𝗴 𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝗮.𝗸.𝗮 𝗪𝗲𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗗𝗮𝘆

rules, disclaimer and notes ☆

⋆·˚ 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 ⋆·˚ ----- This reading was made for entertainment purposes only. this is obviously a general reading so takes what resonates and leave when it doesn't, you don't need to force your energy to read this and leave such a bad comment just to say it doesn't resonates with you at all because the answer is very obvious!

⋆·˚ 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞 ⋆·˚ ----- All of the pictures are collected and downloaded from 'pinterest' i don't own any of them but credits goes to the rightful owners however edits goes and belong to me only @alaezasmystery . I use the editor tools canva and kapwing for the header and divider. Extra credit to @daninixx for giving permission to use her rules and disclaimer.

ＰＩＬＥ 1

First court marriage then there will be big luxurious wedding party . It's a royal wedding !!!! You'll look like a powerful person . That's your day and you're just not ready to share it with anyone . Your Future Spouse can be famous or has fame to their name . Many people will make posts of your wedding photo viral in social media .

Extra information :- owl , Tik tok , China , Sushi , Pens and highlighter , Baby cradle , Red hair , Green and black eyes , 5 ' 6 - 6 ' 0 in height , garters , stockings , statement jewelry , diamond bracelet / heirloom , summer and June .

☜♡☞ TIPS :- PAYPAL 222 > If you love my reading, you can leave a tip or donation here , any amount will do since i just really need money or you can check or book an order from here.

𓊆 εїз 𓊇

ＰＩＬＥ 2

Big fantasy wedding ceremony . There will be a huge celebration in your wedding . You'll look so gorgeous and luxurious on that day . You're manifesting a successful huge ceremony . I'm seeing many expensive gifts being given to you . A presence of child / children will be there too. Maybe you'll own a pet by then whom you treat like your own child.

Extra information :- Swan , Sunflower , mesh net , Zari works , minimal jewelleries , boots , blonde highlights , peach and white colours , grandparents , 2211 , 1818 , Name starting with R , S , W , U , 2009 , 1998 , 25 .

☜♡☞ TIPS :- PAYPAL 222 > If you love my reading, you can leave a tip or donation here , any amount will do since i just really need money or you can check or book an order from here.

𓊆 εїз 𓊇

ＰＩＬＥ 3

Cute destination wedding is going here. Small amount of people are going to join your wedding . It's like a magical sacred union of two matured person. This wedding is going to be so intimate and exquisite. I'm seeing nature is included in your theme . Like beach , waterfall or ocean is present by your side. You'll look like an angel straight out of a fairytale .

Extra information :- Candles , fairy lights , cars , potluck , hotpot , 444 , piano , fluffy dresses , braids , ace of spades , Middle of the night by Elley Duhé , tulips , Netherlands , old photos , X , D , G , H , Ticket .

☜♡☞ TIPS :- PAYPAL 222 > If you love my reading, you can leave a tip or donation here , any amount will do since i just really need money or you can check or book an order from here.

𓊆 εїз 𓊇

ＰＩＬＥ 4

Okay this is giving me destination wedding vibe !! It maybe a small wedding but this is going to take place in different place than yours . I'm seeing a very vintage vibe from here . You'll be radiating so much that day. A sense of pride is in the air. People will be talking about this for a while . Many of your family members will be shocked to see that you're finally getting married .

Extra information :- Old money , Manor , Dolce & Gabbana , Jesper , Finland , Bees , Long drives , 26 , 30 , 4+ years age gap , Teacher - Student vibes , Seashell , Mirror , Buddha .

☜♡☞ TIPS :- PAYPAL 222 > If you love my reading, you can leave a tip or donation here , any amount will do since i just really need money or you can check or book an order from here.

𓊆 εїз 𓊇

© @alaezasmystery ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, alter, or repost my work without my explicit permission.

[thesandsofelsweyr]

What is the 'wild card' option do?

from Headcanon Game - A to Z (NSFW)

It means I get to share a sexy headcanon of my choosing, so of course it's gonna be scar related 😎

(This is not the aforementioned scar headcanon post. Still working on that one.)

⚠️ cw: here be more angst than smut 😅, torture mentions

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Scars: he’s covered in them—from his scalp to the soles of his feet. Joker made use of nearly every square inch of flesh available on his “canvas” for his “artwork” 😞 Jay doesn’t want them seen: by himself, by others, by you especially. He feels like anyone can read his entire humiliating history from his scars, because all he sees are flashing advertisements for his many failures, for his cowardice, for his weakness. So he wears hats and hoodies, long sleeves, pants, and even gloves year-round (sexy driving gloves in the warmer months 😎). He’ll let you tug down his pants and boxer briefs to his thighs, but that’s as much of his ruined flesh as he wants showing, especially since he’s already feeling emotionally vulnerable when you two are intimate.

Touching his scars brings up a knotted tangle of emotions in him. They’re ultra sensitive. Not physically, per se, but the sensation reminds him that they’re there, reminds him of what happened to him. He remembers all of the times he “let” Joker touch him… how the man would trace the ridges of scar tissue almost tenderly, admiring his masterpiece, his plaything, his boy toy… His… and that godawful feeling makes him want to puke. But then you touch them—the crude mockery of the Robin logo carved into his breast, the puckered “HAHAHA” cut into his stomach, the Clown’s laugh permanently imprinted into his flesh—you trace them gently, absently with your fingertip while you rest your head on his shoulder in bed, and he can’t help but feel as though you’re reclaiming them and him from the Clown.

You place a soft kiss on his brand, and immediately that red hot iron is sinking into his cheek again—he can feel the Clown’s cruel fingers twisted into his matted hair, yanking back his head, can hear his wail of agony echoing off the walls of his torture chamber, can smell his flesh as it cooks, can taste the salt of his tears pouring down his permanently disfigured face—but then it’s your fingers combing through his hair, your soothing voice reminding him you want him, love him even, it's the scent of your perfume filling his nose, the taste of you lingering on his lips…

Over time you carve out much of the hatred, the pain, the blackness left by the Clown, and fill that hollowed out shell back up with your love, your loyalty, your light… and he trusts that you see more than the scars that litter his naked body… that you don’t see him as a coward or a failure, that you’ll never abandon him like the others he thought had loved him, that you don’t care about his past mistakes, only his future. With you 💕

(A/N: GOD, I could talk about his scars all day long, hehe. I love that he finds them disgusting, while all of us find them sexy as hell 😋)

[swagmagussupreme]

@whiterose-fans-blog White Rose in Bloom, Day 3: Business life.

cw for drugs (weed lol it was the first kinda off-kilter thing my brain conjured for a business one of them would own)

Word count: 1521

“Could I check your ID real quick?”

Weiss jumped. “S-sorry, I've just… never done this before,” she admitted, reaching meekly into her purse. She also hadn't seen silver-colored eyes before, and that fact coupled with her unfamiliarity reduced her to a state she was wholly unused to: idiocy. Producing her ID, she asked, “A-and the card?”

The clerk, a college girl (from the Beacon Academy sweater) with red-highlighted black hair and a sweet face, smiled politely. “Yes please. And just so you know, we can only accept cash. There's an ATM in the corner.”

Weiss handed the two plastic cards over, shaking her head. “No thanks, I have cash.”

The girl gave the cards a mostly cursorial inspection before handing them back to Weiss. “Weiss, huh? Pretty name. Foreign?”

Weiss took her cards and blinked. “Uh… yes. Sure.” Did this girl not recognize the surname?

“Oh sweet,” the girl commented, holding out her hand. “My name's Ruby, I can help you out with anything you need. You said this is your first time?”

Weiss floundered, her mouth parting wordlessly before she accepted the handshake. “Yes. Thank you. I… could use some help.”

Ruby gave her hand a firm squeeze, one big shake, then separated to splay her hands over the glass-front counters beneath her. “Well, we've got all kinds'a stuff for all kinds’a needs. Whatcha need?”

“Well… I need…. I need to relax,” Weiss said, shuffling on her feet. “One of my… less couth coworkers said I need to ‘get slonked until I go blind,’ which I… well, this is as far as I got with deciphering that,” in a murmur, she added, “Can't believe it's not a sex thing.”

The clerk snorted. “You must be some kind of cartographer if you managed to decrypt that much on your own with no experience.”

“You mean a crypt-ographer?"

She snorted again, longer, more fervent, giving way to a goofy chuckle that seemed to rumble out of her throat. “Oh shoot, I'm uh… look, this is kinda…” her face reddened, cheeks splotching. “I'm slonked blind here, okay? So I guess ya picked the right place.”

Weiss reeled, then leaned in to stare into Ruby’s eyes. She confirmed the girl’s statement. “But you work here.”

“Well yeah!” the clerk dismissed, waving her hand. “I own the place!”

The shock of a girl this young owning her own business was severe against Weiss, who feebly grasped at some kind of counterpoint. “But… but… your own supply…”

The clerk— owner, somehow— leaned over the counter with a grin, her bulky canvas jacket wafting out a scent of heavy herbs and something sweet. She crossed her arms beneath herself confidently. “How else would I know my stuff’s any good?”

Weiss wavered. Ruby’s eyes were silver, which accentuated the redness of her sclera, which in turn further accentuated her shining irises. It was a devastating feedback loop, like staring into the sun. “Uh…”

Ruby whirled back around with a swoosh of her jacket and the heft clomp of a boot. She dramatically shimmied along the glass counter, pointing to the products inside. “You said relax, right?” she asked, sending a smile up at Weiss that made her gulp at its sincerity. “Generally speaking, these’ll relax ya. Like, a lot. A lot, a lot.” Her face scrunched up pensively. “Uh, maybe too much. First-timer, right?”

“Yes?” 

Ruby nodded, beckoning Weiss to follow her a bit further down the counter-space. Weiss stared at the contents there, flowery and exposed and named weirdly, and felt like she was committing a crime just by seeing. She looked over her shoulder, which Ruby caught. “It's okay,” she promised, her voice rough at its lower register. “No one’s coming to arrest you, dude.”

“W-why isn't there anyone else here?” Weiss found herself asking, feeling pathetic at her own voice.

“It's, like…” Ruby checked the analog clock on the wall, then seemed to grow genuinely confused. “Uh… twelve! It's twelve-fifteen on a Tuesday. Everyone’s at work or school.”

Weiss eyed her suspiciously. “Did… did you just struggle to read a clock?”

“Anyway!” Ruby diverted, ducking behind the counter to gesture at the contents from the other side. The glass did nothing to hide her growing blush of embarrassment. “These are all hybrids, so you won't get tipped too much in either direction, but these—” she motioned to a group of spindly green-and-purple bunches sealed in tubes. Some had bright orange sprigs sticking out from the green, some looked… frosty, and some had both qualities. Ruby pointed to them in succession. “These are the chill ones. ‘My Friend Sappho’ is a relaxing strain, great if you wanna crash on the couch and watch something stupid while still being able to get back up. ‘Mouthfeel’ is super fun, very giggly, conks out the body so you can chill in your own brain-soup. ‘Smart-shoes’ is really move-y, like it feels good to move, kinda has the opposite effect as ‘Mouthfeel,’ so your thoughts all get tucked away and you can just be in your bod. And ‘Moving Day’ here—”

“These all seem… targeted,” Weiss said tentatively, half-cringing at herself.

Thankfully, Ruby didn't seem to take offense. Instead, she barked out a laugh, and said with undisguised smugness: “Well, yeah. You saw the sign. You saw the flag.” Ruby rose back up to the counter and leaned over it, smirking. “You did your research, Weiss."

The girl who thought she was either being threatened or openly flirted with, flushed red at the sound of her name coming out that way. She had done her research, enough to pick The Crescent Bud— which was a godawful name— over all the other places in her area because its sign had a subtitle, ‘World’s Gayest Dispensary’, which she took to for… reasons. She coughed. Her voice came out tightly. “Yes. I did do… that. Research. This place had good prices. And reviews.”

The smirk showed no sign of faltering from Ruby’s lips, but she pointed into the counter without any further interrogation. “Anyway, ‘Moving Day’ is wonderful,” Ruby drawled, with an affect that slightly terrified Weiss. “It's super pretty. I mean, just look at it.”

Weiss looked at the transparent canister of buds, purple-green and frosted, abundant with little bits of orange. In her peripheral vision, she noted that Ruby was very much not looking at them. 

“It goes down really smooth,” Ruby continued. “Very fruity tones. It takes a moment to kick in, but once you've chilled out and you're ready for it, it gets you."

Weiss gulped. “Ah. That sounds… nice.”

“It's really nice. Captivating, even.”

Weiss stared at the sealed tube, her skin feeling tight. She did not look at Ruby.

When Ruby spoke again, her voice was a lot quieter, but a lot closer. “I've got a sofa and a TV in the back room. Could close up for lunch; going into this kinda thing can really suck if ya do it alone. I'll even roll you a free sample, my treat.”

Weiss’ neck felt like wood as she turned to Ruby, stiff and creaking and entirely unsure, but those lambent eyes were soft, and her smirk had tamed into an inviting grin.

No. A million times, no. Weiss was a department head. She couldn't let herself get lured into some stoner's backroom just because Coco said she needed to chill! This was stupid. This was wrong. She was better than this. She didn't need drugs to have fun, to relax, she was a grown woman! Weiss opened her mouth for a hundred protestations, a million damnations, a trillion justifications that roiled up her throat and—

Ruby passed the little cigarette-thing directly into Weiss’ lips, which would've made Weiss detonate if she wasn't already high as shit. 

“Subtle,” Weiss snarked, feeling emboldened by the lightness in her head. “Really subtle.”

Ruby settled back on the couch, remnants of pungent smoke trickling past her lips. “Dude, it’s ‘Moving Day’. You think I was trying to be subtle?”

Weiss took a cautious drag— Ruby had freaked out after her first hit had apparently been huge— and shifted her legs, adjusting herself so her knees and her shoulders brushed against Ruby’she. She passed it back. “I'm glad you weren't.”

Ruby took it blindly and let it dangle between her lips, her eyes fixated on whatever streaming platform she had. “Uh… shitty vampire movie or stupid docuseries that's vaguely racist in a funny way?”

Weiss didn't really parse the question. Her eyes were zoned out on Ruby’s mouth, on the streaming dance of smoke rising from the cigarette. “One of those, sure.”

Ruby didn't notice her staring. Or she did. Weiss couldn't tell, nor did she care to, because she was slonked halfway to blindness and it felt glorious. Worries and anxieties, usually invasive, couldn't penetrate the fog of her mind. She felt loose, her body felt stupid, but her brain felt mostly normal. It was like her corporeal form was little more than a meat-jacuzzi for her brain. 

Weiss jolted when the TV awoke with sound, which graciously caused Ruby to look over, grin, and throw an arm over Weiss’ shoulders. 

Coco had been right.

[grimescum]

I DECIDED IM GUNNA TRY TO FINISH THIS & MAKE IT AN ANIMATIC !!!!!!!!! remade and condensed the sketches i had!!

very excited!! theres details i've left out because the canvas was too small like the gift card having claudine's handwriting (seen in the later sketches) on it and the numbers on the clock being replaced w "party"

wanted to incite a feeling of claustrophobia with the panels progressively getting smaller (? might change it later)

im talking about it like im done.. im not . im guesstimating that i have like, 3-6 left? maybe more. im kinda just winging it and pulling from the various animatics ibe made in my head

ANYWAY SORRY IM EXCITED AND ITS PARTIALLY THE COFFEE TALKING

[ipsen]

Blank Canvas 13

Read on AO3. Word Count: 2785 Summary: The vacation ends. cw: sexual content Chapter 12 Chapter 14 Master Post

“H-Haise…” Sen breathed his name into his mouth, then— “W-Wait— Pffhahahaha!!”

“Sorry!” Haise took his hand from her side, smiling. “I-I didn’t know—”

She swatted away his concerns with her hand and another kiss. “It’s fine, it’s fine…”

It was morning. What once was artificial yellow brushing against the curtains was now white natural light that fully illuminated their room.

They were supposed to be out hiking with the others. Tatara had texted Sen exactly once, but it went completely ignored. Haise had asked if that was okay, and she stuck her hand down his underwear in response.

She massaged his scalp with her other hand, carding through the black locks like sheep’s wool and coaxing pleased hums up from his throat. In response, he pulled her closer by the waist, earning a surprised giggle from her as she slid across the mattress.

“You know…” She tugged at his robe belt. “I have more condoms.”

He shuddered slightly. “W-Well, um—”

“‘Well’ what?” She tugged a little harder, hooking her finger in the knot. “Not in the mood?”

“U-Uh…” He groaned when she gently bit down on his lower lip.

“That’s too bad.” She removed her finger, and the belt snapped weakly against his waist.

“Wait wait wait—” He grabbed her wrist without thinking. 

“Woah there.” She smirked, pulling back. “Excited?”

He hesitated slightly, but smiled at her challenge. “Something like that.”

“Good.” She gestured to the drawer, lying down with her hair splayed out. “Go on, then.”

With swifter, more experienced hands and a newfound confidence, they shed their clothes once more. Sen hugged Haise’s waist with a leg, gazing up at him with a smile spread across her face.

She was so beautiful, he thought, like the night sky unpolluted by streetlights. He could count all the stars in her freckles and the swirling galaxies in her irises. No canvas could ever capture her the way she was in this moment, in all moments.

And the way she stared back at him— the way her eyes told him he was everything in the world— made him want to cry all over again.

“Ready?” she asked tenderly, her hand cupping his face.

He nodded back and leaned into her touch, blinking back the tears. “Ready.”

Her feverish panting and gasps of his name, almost like a moniker, filled his ears as he pounded into her. Even as he arched his back with the ecstasy of release, savoring the sensation of her clenching around him, he couldn’t get enough.

—

“Woo!!!” Naki cheered at the resort. “Thanks, resort, for an awesome-as-hell vacation!!!”

Ayato and the Bins whooped in agreement, jumping up and down. Even Tatara, silent, still raised a fist into the air. As for Miza, she went over to Haise and Sen, who were standing awkwardly off to the side near the back.

“Did you two have fun last night?” she said with a grin, elbowing Sen’s hip. “Or even this morning?”

Sen glared at her, face turning completely red. “Miza—”

“What? Just a question. You weren’t on the terrace with everyone last night, nor did you join us in the hot springs, nor were you there for the hike! I’m just wondering what could’ve taken up all your time.”

“W-Well—” Haise began, searching for the words. “We, uh…”

“Haise,” Sen warned. “Don’t.”

“Ugh, fine. I was just teasing at first, but alright, fine.” Miza pointed at Sen. “I can see the hickeys on your neck.” She then pointed to Haise. “Both your necks.”

Both of them flushed the same scarlet color. Haise tried to pull up the collar of his shirt in embarrassment, and Sen shrank into her hair.

Miza sighed. “Alright, if you won’t talk, I’ll have to ask your lovely new boyfriend.”

“Boyfr—?!” Sen sputtered.

Haise froze. Okay, that was true— technically— but hearing it out of someone else’s mouth was strange. Like it wasn’t real, and would disappear with a snap of the fingers.

He didn’t get the time to dwell too much on it, though as Miza spoke again. “So what’d you do last night, Sasaki?”

He wanted to disappear on the spot. He scratched his chin, smiling. “J-Just some light reading! That’s all! Nothing— Nothing else! Hikes were never really my thing…”

Sen palmed her face and climbed into the van without another word. As soon as she was out of sight, Miza yanked him down by the sleeve and whispered excitedly to him.

“So?” she asked. “Did you see my gift?”

Gift? Gift… Oh. Gift. “Er, yes…?”

“Yes!” She pumped her fist. “Oh, I’m so proud of you two!”

He rubbed his neck. “I-I, um, I really don’t think—”

“That girl is endlessly frustrating, you know that? You’ve basically been all she’s talked about since you got hired and finally she does something about it!” She laughed, but it quickly died. “She’s always hated seeking her own happiness, ever since we met.”

Haise pursed his lips. It was something too relatable.

“So thank you, Sasaki, for reaching out to her.” Miza patted his arm, smiling softly. “Teasing aside, look out for her, okay?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I’ll do my best.”

—

After the Bins and Ayato were dropped off, they reached Haise’s apartment. Under Tatara’s squinting gaze, Sen followed Haise out. Every few steps, she would brush up against him, and he would wish he was bold enough to just hold her hand.

When they reached the stairs leading up to his apartment, he didn’t go up straight away.

“Thank you for coming out to the resort with me.” Sen laced her fingers together in gratitude. “I really don’t think I would’ve enjoyed it without you.”

He let his ego devour that one, though his words were much more controlled. “Y-You think so?”

“I know so.” She came closer and picked off some lint on his shoulder. “That is to say, you… Well…”

She trailed off. Haise hesitated, but scooped up her hand and kissed her knuckle, hoping it communicated the jumble of thoughts rattling about in his mind.

It worked. “Such a gentleman,” she teased, even as pink dusted her cheeks.

He laughed. “Thank you.”

Unfortunately, they couldn’t stand at the foot of the stairs forever, as nice as it sounded. Sen stepped away eventually, hand falling back to her side. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He rubbed where her fingers had just been, already missing her touch. “See you tomorrow…”

She walked off and he stayed where he was to wave everyone goodbye, but about halfway to the van, she turned back around.

He tilted his head in confusion as she marched toward him. “Hm? Did you forget something or—”

He was promptly shut up when she pulled him down by the shirt and crashed their lips together. He made a surprised gasp at the sudden contact, and had to grab the handrail before he fell onto her. Afterward, though, his hands settled at her waist, and he leaned down to give her better leverage.

She pulled back far too quickly. “Yes,” she whispered.

“H-Huh…?” His brain was still catching up.

She giggled. “I forgot something.”

“Oh, uh…” He was completely lost in her gaze. “Uh-huh.”

Sen thumbed his cheek, expression as soft as velvet. Words, for all that they worked with them, failed them now. For a moment, it seemed like she would lean in for another round, and Haise was happy to oblige, so he closed his eyes and—

HONK.

One van honk jolted both of them out of the moment. They turned back and saw a grinning Naki with his head sticking out of the driver’s seat. “You want your luggage, Sen, or you coming with?!”

She backed away immediately, flushed red. “N-No! Coming, I’m coming!!”

Yeah she did. Good job, brain. So helpful, as always.

She turned around again at the halfway point and pressed her palms together in apology. “I’ll see you at work, Haise!”

It snapped him out of his trance long enough to let him respond. “S-See you at work!” He waved a little too excitedly, but maybe that wasn’t so bad.

She climbed into the van, and he waited until he couldn’t see it any longer to head up the stairs. There was a wonderful spring in his step; he couldn’t help it. Him and Sen. Sen and him. It wasn’t some silly dream or idle musing— it was real.

He unlocked the door and went in. It was dark; Hide was either still asleep or still out on his latest business trip. And over the weekend, too! He was getting busier by the day, now that Haise thought about it. That was probably what happened when you spoke six languages.

He flipped on a light switch and kicked his shoes off. He hoped Hide was looking out for himself; Haise had yet to see him take a day off that wasn’t their birthday or a regular holiday. There were exceptions, such as a new entry of a video game series release, but those were few and far between. Haise made a mental note to tell Hide as much; maybe he could get Touka in on it.

He put his luggage in front of his room door to unpack later, and set about searching the kitchen for any ingredients he might be able to use to make something for Sen in the morning. It was the least he could do for her, and as far as he could tell, she made a habit of skipping breakfast. It would certainly explain her appetite during lunch and simultaneously lithe figure.

Her figure… Haise shook his head, trying to dismiss the thoughts of her naked body. He was supposed to be figuring out what to make her, not fantasizing about her body pressed slick against his as she gasped out his name over and over as he just stopped thinking about it right now.

His search bore no fruit. A sigh escaped his lips, and his cheeks burned despite his solitude.

Second note: grocery shopping.

———

The next morning, Hide, who really had just been dead asleep last night, accompanied Haise to Anteiku before work. Touka, as always, dropped whatever she was doing to flank him with Hide at their favorite table, and Yoriko dropped off a plate of pastries, with coffees all around.

“Alright, man, you made a decidedly delicious breakfast this morning, so something’s up,” Hide began. “What happened during your little trip?”

“Oh, this’ll be good.” Touka grinned.

“Go easy on him, you two!” Yoriko called from the kitchen.

“Aye-aye, captain.”

“So?” Hide rested his cheek in his hand.

Haise turned scarlet, grip tightening on his cup of coffee as he remembered the feeling of being inside Sen Takatsuki. “W-Well, uh… I-I— Um, you see, I—”

Touka rolled her eyes. “Did you fuck her or not?”

It felt like steam was coming out of his ears. “I-Is this really necessary?”

“It’s important.” Hide looked dead serious. “Yes or no question.”

Haise sighed, swallowed his pride, and squeaked out, “Yes.”

The effect was immediate. Touka gaped at him. “Holy shit, really?”

“No.” Hide’s jaw hung open.

Haise dropped his head on the table and covered himself with his arms. “Please don’t make a big deal about it…”

There was a long stretch of silence, which was arguably worse than either of his friends congratulating him or saying literally anything. Please say something, he begged them in his head. He couldn’t stand the statement just hanging in the air like this.

“Son of a bitch,” Touka said, still shocked. “Oh my God, you slept with her.”

A hand slapped onto Haise’s shoulder: Hide’s. “Congrats, man,” he said. “Proud of you. And I’m sorry for what’s about to happen now.”

Haise looked up. “What?”

“Touka.” Hide took out six thousand yen in bills and slid it across the table. “Congratulations.”

“Wait,” Haise said, looking between who he thought were supposed to be his best friends, “you were betting on me?!”

Touka burst out into laughter.

Hide sighed. “The actual bet was just if you’d confess not, but sleeping with her? That’s insane, haha!!”

“By the way, how was it?” Touka scooted her chair closer.

Haise looked away, scratching his chin idly. “I-It was fine…”

“‘Just fine’, huh?” Hide raised a brow. “You can’t be serious.”

“He isn’t serious.” Touka touched Haise’s arm softly. “If you’re not comfortable, just say so.”

“I-It’s not that, really.” Haise scratched his head. “Just embarrassing, because, well…” He coughed. “It was great. Amazing. Like stars aligning in the sky, or— or the perfect sunny day, with the perfect breeze! And, and—”

“Okay!” Touka clamped her hand over his mouth before he could launch into a soliloquy. “Got the picture! You had lots of fun. Cool. The easy part’s over! Now you just gotta date her.”

“Which, by the sound of things, has been going on for a while.” Hide took a bite of the pastries at the table. “I mean, lunch every day with her with no one to interrupt? Going out to various places and learning more about each other? Sounds pretty date-y to me. So honestly, the hard part’s over too.”

Haise sat up in his seat. Were those dates? He and Sen only visited those specific places because of the story. Sure, they were fun, but there was work attached to it.

“Oh my God.” Touka was looking at him. “You’ll be fine. If Takoyaki’s—”

“Takatsuki,” Haise corrected.

“If Takatsuki’s anything like you, then fucking her brains out—”

“Touka!”

“Fucking her brains out means you are very important to her.” She rolled her eyes. “We’re not babies anymore; we’re adults, and we can talk about sex!”

The bell rang, and a customer came through. Haise’s gaze flicked from them, then back to her, making his stance clear.

She glared at him, red in the face, then stood up. “Point taken.”

She went to deal with the customer, leaving him and Hide alone. Hide chuckled. “She’s so much fun,” he said, sipping his drink. “So glad we met her.”

Haise smiled. “Me too.”

“But really, man, proud of you.” Hide slapped his arm. “You’ve earned it.”

Haise rubbed the area sheepishly. “Th-Thanks…”

Hide sighed. “Ken Kaneki, my brave boy, is growing up.” He wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Time flies.”

Haise, instead of being embarrassed, blinked. ‘Kaneki’? Why did— Oh, right. Reality check. That was still his name to them. He was still Ken Kaneki to everyone before Sen, still sharing the space with the bruised boy who was always nursing his wounds, always making room for new ones.

He looked down at his hands in his lap as Touka slid back into her seat. Sen had paid attention to his chosen name. Could others do the same?

“You okay, Kaneki?” Touka asked, looking at him.

“Hm? Oh, um, yes…” He cleared his throat. “Actually, there’s something else I wanna tell you guys. Or, um, ask, rather.”

They waited patiently for him to continue. They always did, didn’t they? So if they could tolerate him for years, then he could request one silly thing.

“I’d… I’d like it if you called me Haise.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Your alias?” Hide asked.

Haise nodded quietly. Was… that weird? Well, it kinda was weird. Years of calling him one name, only to be asked to refer to him by something completely different? It was a little presumptuous when viewed in that way. Maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut.

But Touka just shrugged and said, “Alright. Haise.”

“Yeah.” Hide tapped his chin. “Haise, Haise… Sounds like a last name, now that I’m saying it out loud.”

Was… that it? Haise smiled. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“Haise… Wait, is Sasaki cool too?” Touka asked. “You’ve always been Tree Branch to me.”

Now he laughed. She always liked that one kanji in his name, and he did too. “Yeah, that’s fine too. Which reminds me…”

“Hm?”

He told her and Hide about Ayato’s lighting job at the Chì Shé Theater Company, and that Tatara, as the lighting director, had invited him with the others.

“Well, shit.” Touka put her hands on her hips. “That asshole didn’t even tell me about you! Then again, he’s denser than you are…”

Hide chuckled. “He’s still a kid, cut him some slack!”

Haise was totally lost. “Huh?”

“Of course you don’t know.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, suppressing a sigh. “My shitty brother’s got a… thing for Hina.”

He blinked. “What?”

———

“Heartbreaking news tonight, as Nashiro Yasuhisa, daughter of the late Nanao Yasuhisa, has been discovered dead in the 13th ward. The Washuu Task Force is investigating the scene as we speak, and some sources claim that the Torso may be to blame…”

[borreloadsavagedragon]

Give Kaito essay (for the character meme)

Oh god, I’ll read more this because it’s gonna be a journey and that's also why it took so long gjdaslgk-

And the standard zexal and arc v spoilers warning message-

1. how long have i known about them A LONG time though it didn’t get to like he’s my whole world status until pandemic era-- MalindaChan did her cosplay for him back when I was still a certified Yugiboomer who entertained GX and 5DS because "lol abridged series jokes" and that’s when I first remember seeing his design? I tried watching Zexal briefly when it was actively airing but just couldn’t get far bc Boomer Brain ™, but I remember him being cool but the "Kaiba-likeness but not being Kaiba" Yugiboomer wall couldn't be overcome right away, I had to train my skills Then 2020 happened, I watched Vrains to understand Link Summoning, got SUCKED into it, and was like wow past me was dumb, ALL of the spinoffs are GREAT Zexal reached a hand back out to me when I was kinda struggling with the Vrains community and I'd decided to start writing more spinoff muses with some mutual friends and that's also when I realized I’d be subconsciously collecting Galaxy and Photon monsters since they’re pretty + space themed but also because they were inside of ALL of the Kaiba support sets(because DUH) so it was like,,, well, let’s try that again

Now I’m In Hell And It’s All His Fault Do you think I ENJOY playing Photon competitively? Well yes, but also NO. It means learning new decks is HARD because I can't look at dragons and knights in SPACE.

2. whether or not they’ve ever made me cry Moon duel? W,, what Moon duel,,, I don’t,,, remember any space dueling, ahaha, isn’t that another yugioh, the rush of the go,,,,,,, In all serious though, yes lmao The duel against Zexal when he tells you his reasoning for why he’s the Number Hunter and he looks so broken, that got a solid few tears The flashback of him trying to break Haruto out of the city got some tears  The duel with Chris is also really good show of his character at the root, the thing that gets him back to his feet is the moment Chris even considers Haruto as part of his suffering, g o d The moon duel of course. That’s. That one was brutal. Yeah. 

3. whether or not i have any merchandise/objects with them uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

There’s a wall scroll behind my work desk that sneaks into my Zoom calls, there’s a canvas print he’s on that sits at my work desk, my ita bag has a handful of charms, pins, and buttons for him(still hunting for artists who draw him with merch wink wink)

I guess my Photon tcg deck counts? The tcg is just one big merch machine if you squint enough-

My Book of Moon themed binder is literally just all of my collector Photon and Galaxy/references to Kaito cards + a small page for Miza since Tachyon is a Galaxy Eyes

Do cosplays count? Because I’ve got all but his space suit basically done + his duel disk 

4. what about their personality i like How seriously he takes himself despite literally everything else about his character 

He’s often off to the side with his arms crossed, pouting or frowning, having the cool guy edge lord behavior But also he’s screaming in the rain, jumping through a window on a kite glider he made himself that also doubles as his robo-butler, flying to the whole ass moon because a rock told him to, and beefing 14 yr olds, he’s just a legend 

I also love that he's like... very clear about himself and on how you should treat him. He straight up says he's going to hell for what he's done and just continues to be there because that's how he'll atone because atonement isn't forgiveness, like he's not ours to forgive. Love him so much.

5. what about their backstory makes me emotional Honestly, most of it

Watching Kaito slowly lose his autonomy (his brother whose been his responsibility for what could be read as since birth, his father just becoming a figure head in his life versus an actual parent, Chris walking out on him with no closure until they duel, being watched by and trained under brutal conditions by the government, failed escape attempts, getting lied to and used, etc) and then knowing one of the people who he attributes half of that loss and suffering to is someone he never gets closure against is very hard to watch

Even in Arc V, he loses his entire family in a way that makes him cut ties with every single person left in a desolate city and hunt his enemies down one by one to pay them back for his suffering, and it happened before we finally actually get to see him or hear of him for the first time so god knows the details

He really just gets put through it time and time again, yugioh be nice to that onion challenge

6. the moment of theirs that made me the saddest there was no duel on the moon in yugioh zexal

But actually, Kaito dying is tragic for a few reasons

THEY JUST LET HIS BROTHER WATCH IT HAPPEN? FAKER??? HELLO?

He was... ok with it happening-

He was killed off before the final duel and before he could reunite with Yuma and Ryouga again, and even though he came back as a spirit, it felt like a such a cop out

7. the moment of theirs that made me the happiest The pure look of joy on his face reuniting with his brother after they defeat Vector the first time, it’s so good The first time Prime Photon is summoned, goated, perfect, all boss monsters should be willed into existence like that But also Arc V, Kaito watching Dennis duel Yuya after everything with Zarc and clapping for him is so sweet omg

8. something about them that made me laugh HIS ONE LINERS, yugioh really gives the rivals the best solo lines I swear to god

Ok listen, dub and sun debate aside, I watched both because I’m a mess and need as much Kaito as I can get, but the dub has some heaters and Kaito’s got a few good ones, ESPECIALLY when he's talking to Mizael

The one to Shark, “You’re quite the romanticist”, who the fuck says that out loud to another person Kaito talking to Dennis is also a fever dream, the dub especially is so jarring, I love them

9. my favorite canon outfit of theirs White coat with the gazer tattoo, you can never go wrong with the Photon coat Numeral Hunter is also based, I know that's not like HIS look in any show, but... I HC that would be his Vrains Avatar, he could go to Vrains very easily, Solflare is an exploitable card in his deck

10. my favorite moment with them in canon UUUUGGHHHH CHOOSING ONE IS HARD

Uhhh, episode wise Shark Hunter is prooobably my favorite(for obvious reason but besides those LOL) because it’s such a tone setter for who Kaito is and also I could listen to these two bicker all day long, we really didn’t get nearly enough of their side rivalry as opposed to like Kaiba and Joey or Takeru and Ryoken

And then the Moon Duel is like my second favorite duel in the whole franchise, only outclassed by Soba and Revo in Vrains, you really get to see just how strong he is because he's half blind, still actively dying by dueling, and gets his helmet cracked in the vacuum of space, and he's still able to win

Character moment, the duel against Chris comes to mind again because it shows a lot of Kaito to his core, but also Kaito hauling ASS to get Yuma to Astral world to reunite with Astral is iconic, Kaito's always ready to take the plunge when everyone else says not to because he just KNOWS he's right

11. my favorite relationship they have with another character sweats profusely, I said it above somewhere I think- removing shipping from the equation entirely, I REALLY like all of the bff / rival dynamics across all of the shows, I love how well done they are and I fully find them more interesting than the standard protag/rival ones, even with KaiRyo having like the least amount of time dedicated to theirs comparatively. Ryouga and Kaito being treated so similarly by the hands dealt to them to where they'd understand the other one like looking in a mirror and yet they cannot stand each other, I eat that shit up. But also knowing the other person so well that they don't even have to talk and also realizing that person is their one of their only option to success? Give me MORE of that I also really love the foil between Mizael and Kaito a lot, I REALLY wish it got the time it was rumored to get, guess I gotta do everything myself In Arc V, Kaito and Shun's dynamic is really good for the little bit we're allowed the time to see it, Shun being one of the only characters who actually goes back for him after leaving so abruptly between Arc V and Zexal... tugs on the heart strings I also love that Kaito took ONE look at Edo in the safe house and decided to speed run the enemies part of the enemies to lovers arc they were going to have, I wish they could have spoken in canon more, hell GX Edo and Zexal Kaito would also be such an interesting dymamic

12. what i like about the way the fandom portrays them Everyone drawing him like >:D all of the time, keep doing that The white lab coat look too? Like not the Photon one, like a standard white lab coat? Perfect, DO NOT change that

nsfw next but also just how everyone knows he's a bottom no matter which ship it is lmao

13. what i dont like about the way the fandom portrays them that no one talks about him except in “WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE RIVAL” polls fndhxjshxbs

I’m going insane in my thoughts alone over here, I need to convert everyone to watch Zexal

14. what i liked about the way canon portrayed them Ok here we can get heated for a bit because I’ve seen an argument somewhere that Kaito didn’t develop at all from season 1 to 2 of Zexal but he 100000% did and I honestly like how it's done

Season 1 Kaito was purposefully talking to the air Astral could be in to avoid even looking at Yuma because he thought so little of him despite how much clawing to get on the same level as him Yuma did

Season 2 Kaito is jumping in to keep Mizael from killing Yuma without a second thought, he's going to the arctic despite ALL of the protests to build the bridge to Astral

His development is subtle, but it's very there, not to mention he can now stomach being in the same room as Faker, gave Chris a second chance, his dying words to Yuma are all the more apparent how important Yuma became to him Like the ONLY person we should have seen an actual conversation touching on Kaito's actions with WAS Ryouga but... be honest, Ryouga's not accepting that from Kaito, they're both very much people of action and they established their bond through the snark and bickering, that's how they communicate Plus Kaito's also outward about not being a good person, telling Yuma he sold his soul to the devil, telling the gang in the first episodes of Zexal II he's already going to hell because that's what his guilty soul deserves Ryoken and Kaito would be SUCH an interesting duo, I'm just saying

15. what i dont like about the way canon portrayed them Oh boy now here we go LOL

The duel against Mr Heartland. - This one's unbelievably bad for so many reasons, mostly because there’s no universe where Kaito struggles against Heartland of all people in a duel, but also this is the person who’s been THE symbol for most of his trauma and trials up until that point. There is no chance in hell he struggles, gets crippled by him, and has to have Yuma take over. That was and always should have been his duel to win, but Yugioh has the unfortunate "this is a story through the protag's eyes" shonen protag bug at its core (Yuma sweetie you’re lovely and wonderful, it’s literally not your fault) 

Arc V giving him literally no time for their version of Kaito to have a more satisfactory character arc because of how long and bad the Synchro Dimension/Friendship Cup arc was. Just another victim of the Synchro Arc, sighs. The dub also puts this weird and bad attempted joking line about how Kaito doesn't do family and like have you literally watched any of Zexal, you're the whole ass studio Kaito just doesn't feel very Kaito the same way in Arc V, it's very sad, lots of shit you know og Kaito wouldn't let fly that just goes by in Arc V, but different versions, dimensions, stories, etc etc, it's just such a whiplash coming from Zexal where he's just so much more

OCG Structures was a coward and didn’t want to play with dimensional physics because Kaito 110% could find a way into that timeline I haven't read the Zexal manga in full just yet because I wanna collect them all physically so that'll be later- And a little bit for the games since Konami wanted at least one of those to be canon thanks to Vrains world-

Cross Duel literally had you consider killing kids for him but honestly this one is more funny than infuriating, everyone's a worst version of themselves in Cross Duel agjdaslkgj Duel Links is usually pretty good, but since Kaito’s first launch event where he's hunting you down, he’s been very much more like an NPC for the Zexal world events, just seems weird to me, I'm sure that'll get thrown out once Chris' unlock event actually happens coming up here and when Miza gets added... then that digital world won't know WHAT to do

[collectingsparechangemadeeasy1]

Song of Summer

Oop! I got another one! The Small Moments AU lives rent free in my brain, and I love sharing it with y’all! Also, if you have any questions, headcanons, or anything like that, send them my way!!!

Qrow was lounging on his wooden lawn chair, his straw hat resting over his eyes as he chewed idly on a stalk of hay. The day was hot, the air shimmering in the distance as cicada’s cried and the shade was barely a reprieve. Qrow didn’t mind much though, sure he had to forgo his usual charcoal work shirt and black canvas pants, and he definitely couldn’t wear his red cloak in this heat. No, now he had to wear a white billowy t-shirt with red embroidery along the collar, in the artistic shapes of crows and trees. Along with tan shorts, cuffed at the ends, and no shoes.

His black unicorn, Harbinger, wasn’t too far. He was napping in the shade of Qrow’s little shack at the edge of Oz’s property, laying down to preserve energy and because he felt safe to do so with Qrow around. He himself made damn sure there was a bucket of water for Harbinger, and a cool breeze blowing on them both whenever there could be. Wind magic was his second strongest type after all.

He was supposed to be working technically. As the officially unofficial grounds keeper of Ozpin's land, he took care of a lot. He’d generally let everything grow wild, but sometimes he’d snip loose branches before storms, top up artificial watering holes or feeders for animals as needed, get rid of invasive plants and bugs, and he’d patrol the grounds. Patrolling was his least favorite, but most important job.

He had to patrol, check for illegal traps, and free anything caught in them. He’d drive off trespassers, or occasionally save some poor lost soul in Oz’s forest. Or get rid of trespassers. Oz was fine with people wandering onto his property, so long as they didn’t touch anything. No taking souvenirs, no hunting or foraging without his express permission, and absolutely NO hunting of the rare or magical creatures in the woods. Those were protected species.

Right now though, Qrow was taking a break. He’d done his second patrol, topped up what needed to be topped up, and he’d gotten rid of a type of ivy that was extremely fast growing and could smother whole trees in a matter of days. He’d earned a little break for himself.

He lifted his hat as he heard approaching hooves. He smiled seeing the familiar black and white coat of Long Memory, Oz on her back. He was sporting a red bandana around his neck, white button up, with the sleeves rolled up to the forearm and blue jeans embroidered with vines and leaves in green thread along the sides, and his usual signature glasses; even if they resembled sunglasses more right now. “Good afternoon Qrow! I wanted to check on you, see if you needed anything.” Qrow waved a hand dismissively, “Nah I’m fine. So’s Harbinger. I appreciate the check up though Oz.”

Oz dismounted Long Memory and walked over, offering him a sip from his canteen. Qrow sniffed and took a swing, it was some kind of potion that cooled his entire body when he drank it. “Thanks. One of Glyndas?”

“Her recipe, but I brewed it.” he explained, sitting on the grass next to Qrow, sighing contently. “I may not like the heat, but I do like the way the world sings in the heat of the summer. Don’t you?” “It certainly adds the right touch, wouldn’t be the same without.” Qrow agreed, laying back on his chair and putting the hat back over his face. “Where’s Oscar today?”

“Visiting my brothers at home. They stopped by unexpectedly.” he hummed, playing with a wild thistle in his fingers. “I’d be over there, but it was getting a bit much. So I thought I’d check on you.”

“So to translate, you used me as “Get out of social engagement” free card?” he smirked, chuckling at how Oz blushed.

“I suppose it’s one way to look at it. But you know my brothers! Ozma and Diggs can get so… rowdy when we’re all together! I just needed a breather.” he almost seemed to pout, which Qrow thought was almost cute.

He shrugged, running a hand through his long messy black hair, speckled with strands of gray here and there, it was tied back in a messy ponytail at the moment. “Don’t gotta defend yourself to me Oz. I use you as an excuse just as much. I wanna leave, I just say “Oz needed me to get some work done on the property today! Gotta go!” and no one ever questions it!”

Oz laughed and shook his head fondly, “Well, you’re more than free to continue that practice. After all, what are friends for?”

“Cheers to that!” Qrow chuckled, sipping the cooling potion one more time before handing it to Oz, who also took a big swig.

They sat like that for a bit, listening to the song of summer around them. Their horses lay in the shade, snorting at each other, cicadas crying out looking for their potential mates, the occasional breeze from Qrow cooling them and rustling the drying grass. A true symphony.

Qrow eventually stood and stretched, “Alright, you should head back, I’ve got some work to do after… all. Huh.” Looking at his companion, he found Oz had fallen asleep. Hands behind his head, relaxed expression, chest moving up and down in a slow steady rhythm. There were wild thistles, black eyed susans, and regular daisies framing his sleeping form. The picture made Qrow smile, Oz just looked so peaceful. But he was also pale as anything, and Qrow didn’t want him to burn.

He picked up a stick and poked at Oz with it, “Hey! Sleepin beauty! Wake up!”

Oz grumbled and swatted a bit at the stick, but his eyes squinted open. “Qrow? Oh goodness did I fall asleep?” He rubbed his eyes and  yawned, stretching languidly. But suddenly froze. 

“…Oh gods I’ve been gone too long! Long Memory! Here girl!” He sprang up, as did the horse, and Oz quickly hopped onto her bare back, and smiled sheepishly at Qrow. “Thank you for waking me, I deeply appreciate it! I’ll see you soon Qrow! Come by the house if you want! HIYAH!” With a light kick, Long Memory ran off, leaving Qrow and Harbinger alone once again.

“See ya’round Oz.” he chuckled, walking towards Harbinger. Time for another patrol. Maybe he’d catch sight of Ozpin's brothers on his way around. Who knows?

[princessmisery666]

Didn't Know Then What I Know Now - Part 3 of 3

Series Summary: You and Jake have been dancing around each other for a while. The Dagger Squad set it up so that the dancing stops, but a case of miscommunication could ruin it all.

Summary: With the help of the Dagger Squad, Jake sends you on a personal scavenger hunt. He’s sure you’ll love the idea, and then you’ll have to forgive him. Right?

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, fluff, 

W/C: 4.8k

Characters: Unnamed female reader (you/she/her), Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace, Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado. Small Parts/Mentioned: The rest of Dagger Squad, Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, and Penny Benjamin. 

Pairing: Hangman x Female Reader. Phoenix x Coyote.

Challenge/Bingo: Prompt/Square Filled:

Notes: Reader has a call sign. 

Beta(s): @deanwinchesterswitch - thanks for saving the smut section 😄 // all mistakes are mine. Special shoutout to @writercole

Graphics: made by me on Canva.

Master Lists: Series // Top Gun Maverick // Main

I do not give consent for this or any other of my works to be reposted/reworked or translated on to any other account or platform.

The first available flight will get you home only a few hours earlier than you would have before, but you no longer care that your credit card will be taking a massive hit for this weekend. This added expense is worth every penny. The thought of sitting next to Jake the entire flight home is too much to bear.

Seething anger rolls through you in waves the whole journey home, and you can’t bear to face the Daggers, knowing they know more than they should.

You go directly to see Captain Mitchell, suitcase and bags in tow, and request a change in assignment. 

“Take a couple of days,” Maverick suggests, “think about it.”

“All due respect, Captain, there’s nothing to think about,” you counter. “We are all aware Lieutenant Seresin isn’t the easiest person to work with, and I feel I’ve served my time.”

“That may be so,” he nods, “but you are a good team, whether you like it or not.”

You can’t argue that because it’s a fact you are aware of.

“Put the request in writing,” Mav tells you, “I’ll see what I can do.”

You thank him and lug your bags back out the door, kicking the wheel to get it to go in the right direction. You don’t look up until you crash into someone. Phoenix, accompanied by Coyote.

Perfect. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, carrying on your way. 

“Wait, Cosmo,” Natasha says, catching up to you. “Why are you back so soon? Your flight doesn’t get in until later. What happened?”

“Exactly what I thought would happen,” you say, “and I really don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Oh, Cosmo,” Phoenix sighs, knowing exactly what your fears had been.

“Don’t,” you say, holding a hand up to silence her. “I don’t want your pity.”

Coyote senses the hostility in your tone and changes the subject. “What were you doing with Mav?”

“Requesting a reassignment,” you say. There’s no point in hiding it. They’ll find out eventually. 

“But,” Phoenix starts, doing the mental math. “The only other person to fly with would be Harvard.”

You shrug, “So be it. I gotta go unpack and shower.”

“Wait,” Phoenix says, rushing to stand in your path. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to talk,” you snap, “least of all to you.” 

The hurt on her face breaks your heart a little, but you’re hurting too. You want to take it back, but the more she looks offended, the more you remember this is partly her fault, and Coyote’s, for that matter. They both stuck their noses in your business when it wasn’t needed or wanted. 

“All this,” you wave your arms as wide as you can with your bag, “is down to you two. Jake and I were fine the way we were, but you two had to meddle.” 

Coyote pleads, “Cos, we were just…” but you cut him off, holding your hand up. 

“Save it,” you growl. Coyote shuts his mouth with an audible pop, and you turn an accusatory finger at Phoenix. “You knew,” you accuse, “you knew how I felt, all my reservations, all the ways I thought it would go wrong, and you still set me up!” 

“I didn’t think anything bad would happen,” Phoenix defends, “Javy told me how much Jake likes you, and I knew how much you like Jake and how conflicted you were about it all. But I thought if you could just have some time together… so I nudged you in the right direction. I thought I was helping you out, being a good friend.”

You scoff, aggravated, and hurt. “Well, maybe you’re not a good friend.”

“Hey,” Coyote chastises, “don’t put this on her. We all played a part.”

“Yeah, you did,” you sigh, tears filling your eyes and tingling the end of your nose. “Because, like I always suspected, you're more Jake’s friends than mine.”

You don’t give them time to respond by walking away.

Jake hopes you’ve checked into another room or a different hotel. He repeatedly called, but you rejected every one of them.

He leaves one voicemail but doubts you’ll listen to it. “Cosmo, please. Don’t shut me out. I know what it looked like, but I promise I can explain.” 

On the way to the airport, he prays you're still on the same flight. A few hours of being unable to escape would be enough time to explain himself. He starts to lose hope when he checks out and finds that half of the room service bill has been paid. He finally admits defeat when he doesn’t see you in the seating area near the gate.

Still, when the flight is delayed, he roams the airport, searching for you. His search proves futile, but he continues to check the boarding queue as he shuffles forward with the other passengers. 

He bounces his leg the entire flight like it will magically make the plane go faster. The only good thing about the empty seat—your seat—between him and the other passenger is that it probably keeps him from being punched for the annoyance.

He’s exhausted by the time they land, and the cab ride from the airport to his house is deafeningly silent. Finally, as the car pulls away from the curb, he gives in and messages Phoenix. 

<Hangman: I know I’m probably outside your good graces, but at least tell me she’s home and okay.

>Phoenix: She’s home. And you’re not on my shit list. I’m on hers. 

He begins typing a reply to question that bit of information, but a message from Coyote interrupts him. 

>Coyote: If you define ‘okay’ as requesting to be reassigned, then yeah, she’s great!👍🏻

The sarcasm seems unnecessary, but he ignores it. There’s a bigger battle to be fought.

>Coyote: What happened man? One minute you were gonna tell her you liked her and the next she’s getting reassigned. 

<Hangman: Just a bit of miscommunication and if I could get her to talk to me I could explain it.  

He needs to do something. Calling isn’t working, and he knows if he shows up at your door, you’ll likely slam it in his face. Besides, this is bigger than an apology. 

<Hangman: I’m gonna need your help.

>Coyote: name it. 

The following morning, you wake early and wash off the residual anger in a hot shower. By the time you're ready to face the day, the outrage has subsided, and you’re left feeling foolish, humiliated, and a little betrayed. Despite your reservations about Jake, you trust him. He���d never done anything to make you believe you shouldn’t - until now.

You shouldn’t be all that surprised. You’ve been witness to and on the receiving end of many of his sexual encounter stories. He’s not someone to keep intimate secrets.

“Urgh, stop!” you berate your reflection in your bedroom mirror. You need to stop thinking about it. Going over it repeatedly in your mind isn’t helping. 

Some retail therapy and blasting your favorite music on the drive to the mall will help. You dress in jeans and a nice shirt, put on your jewelry and then spritz yourself with perfume. 

It brings tears to your eyes. Jake bought you a bottle, and now you won’t be able to smell it without thinking about him. “Fuck!”

You hear the squeak of the door opening, and shortly after, Phoenix sings, “Honey, I’m home.”

It’s an olive branch to let you know she’s disregarding yesterday’s outburst. She understands you didn’t mean it, and don’t blame her for anything. You know you were becoming insufferable when it came to your assigned pilot, and Natasha was always on the receiving end of it. 

“Glad you’re back,” You smile, jogging down the stairs. 

“Woo, where’s the fire?” she asks, kissing your cheek when you reach the bottom step.

“At the mall,” you say, “I need to find a new perfume I like.” 

“So you forgot,” brow raised high, she reminds you. “Tuesdays are jogging and bagels?”

It’s usually more bagels than jogging but you don’t mention it because you had forgotten. Stupid Hangman, messing with your head. “Shit, sorry. I did forget, but a run might help clear my head. Give me five minutes to change?”

She waves off your apology. “Nah, it’s fine. Let’s skip it. I drank way too much last night. The last thing I wanna be doing is running around in the heat.”

You laugh, remembering that yesterday was the last Monday of the month, which meant, “Karaoke night?”

“Karaoke night,” Phoenix confirms with a firm nod and regretful sigh.

Of course, the Daggers can’t make it a normal sing-a-long. Someone, you don’t remember who, bought a decibel meter. Whoever gets the least applause after a song has to do a shot and a song of the squad’s choosing. Of course, Rooster is always the sober one. Maybe it was him who bought the meter.

“If you wanna join me, I’ll treat you to a breakfast burrito on the way,” You offer.

Her eyes light up like a Christmas tree. “Yessss!”

Natasha insists on driving, and as you get into the car, she tells you that she left her wallet in her dorm, and ‘just in case’ Apple Pay doesn’t work, she needs to pick it up before going shopping. You offer to spot her, and she can pay you back later, but she refuses. 

The radio is playing quietly, and it’s a pleasant ride with not a lot of traffic, but when Nat leans in and turns off the radio, you know the pleasantness is over. 

“Ready to talk about it?” she asks. 

No. 

But now is as good a time as any, and it’s rare these days to get her alone without Javy nearby eavesdropping.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t already know,” you sigh. 

“I know Jake’s side of it,” she admits, “but I wanna hear your side.” 

“I made a fool of myself. I thought Jake would be different with me, but I was wrong. Plain and simple.”

“It’s not plain and simple, Cos. You asked to be reassigned. That’s not nothing, so tell me what happened, specifics.”

You explain everything. The weekend arrangement, the promise to not let it affect work or to tell anyone. Crashing the wedding, the gifts, the pillow talk. 

“I can’t explain how he made me feel,” you exhale sadly, allowing yourself a moment to reign in your emotions. “From the moment he touched me, it was like the world didn’t exist. The things he did to me, wow.” Your eyes widen to emphasize the WOW because you really don’t think she gets it. “He made my body react in ways I never knew it could.”

“Well, that’s not surprising,” Nat offers, “you don’t get an ego the size of Hangman’s by being mediocre in bed.” Quickly adding, “Don’t ever tell him I said that.”

You mimic locking your lips and throwing the key out the window. “But confirmed. There is nothing mediocre about him.” You laugh, but the jesting tone is short-lived. “I caught him staring at me a couple of times, and the way he was looking at me… It was… I don’t know, but I swear my heart skipped a beat.”

Phoenix huffs a knowing chuckle. “The small moments that are really the big moments.” 

“Exactly! He asked me to stay a few more nights, and I thought it might have been to… Urgh,” you growl, sick of trying to analyze Jake’s thoughts and feelings. “It doesn’t even matter. I was an idiot to believe it would be anything but a fun memory to recall when my serotonin was low. He couldn’t even respect my privacy. He had to go shoot his mouth off to Coyote.”

“He didn’t,” Phoenix explains. The defense of Jake is so surprising you stare open-mouthed at her as she gives your ID badges to the gate staff. “Don’t get me wrong, there’s probably something in all you said that we can hate him for, but if all this is a reaction to him talking to Coyote, you’ve got it wrong.” 

“What?”

“He wasn’t bragging about sleeping with you,” Natasha explains, “He was asking for advice.”

“Advice about what?” 

She shakes her head, “That’s for Jake to tell you. I get why you jumped to the conclusion that you did. I’d have done the same ‘cause, let’s face it, it’s Hangman we’re talking about. But, and I hate to say this, in Jake’s defense, you overreacted, and if you had let him explain, you wouldn’t be feeling foolish.” 

“So what? You’re saying I owe Jake an apology?”

“I’m saying you should at least speak to him.”

You momentarily impersonate a fish, opening and closing your mouth while trying to understand everything she’s said. 

“But later,” Nat continues, “I need breakfast.”

Natasha drags you along the corridor, tugging on your hand while your eyes dart around, peeking into windows of closed doors, hoping Jake isn’t back on base yet because you aren’t ready to face him. You haven’t quite digested Natasha’s revelation. You need more time. 

You bounce on the balls of your feet for the whole twenty seconds she’s gone, jumping at the slightest sound, expecting Jake to stalk around the corner like some serial killer.  

Natasha emerges from her room, waving her wallet. She takes your hand again, which stops you from rushing away like the scared victim of a horror movie. “Do you trust me?”

You eye her suspiciously, and your stomach drops when she winces, preempting your less-than-happy reaction. “Jake was the last person to ask me that, Nat, and look where that got me.”

“I know,” she says, “but you know I wouldn’t do anything that I thought could potentially hurt you.”

“Natasha Trace, I swear to the all-mighty God Icarus, if Jake is about to walk around that corner, I’ll make you feel like you flew too close to the sun.” 

She holds her hands up, palms out, full surrender. “I swear he’s not here, and you don’t have to talk to him.”

“Can we just go shopping?” You whine but refrain from actually stomping your foot. “Forget Jake, forget men exist for a few hours, and definitely forget setting me up again ‘cause it worked out so well the last time.”

Phoenix shakes her head, “Sorry. No. The whole Coyote text thing at the hotel is a complete misunderstanding, and if I didn’t know that, I wouldn’t be doing this.” 

“Fine,” you practically growl. Forcing an overly enthusiastic smile, you say, “Curtains up on this shit show!”

“The show must go on,” She laughs but pulls you along as she makes her way to the mess hall.

Javy is in position, and Jake has a perfect view of the mess hall doors. Now, he just has to wait. He doesn’t doubt Natasha’s powers of persuasion, but he does doubt your willingness to allow her to set you up again. You’ll have figured it out. You won’t be fooled twice.

The phone is jostled, and then Javy’s face fills the screen. “My arm hurts,” he complains.

“Suck it up,” Jake says.

“How long before she arrives?”

“Are you questioning your girlfriend's ability to get someone to do what she wants? I’m telling Nat you doubted her skills.”

“Don’t you dare,” Javy points into the phone. “If anyone can convince Cosmo to give you a chance, it’s Phoenix.”

“So suck it up and turn me around.”

He does so barely in the nick of time. When the phone stops jiggling and focuses, the door opens, and Phoenix literally drags you through the entrance. You spot Javy first, and when you see him holding his phone out and Jake on the line, you begin shaking your head as Phoenix draws you closer. 

“He’s not here,” you sneer at Nat. “Nice deception.”

“Wasn’t lying,” she sings, kissing Javy’s cheek.

You sigh heavily, and Jake can tell from your expression you’re already over this whole thing. You aren’t going to stick around long, and he knows he’s running out of time.

“This is the first place we met,” Jake begins. “I remember it was a Thursday. You were talking to Harvard. I clocked you the second I walked in. I interrupted, and you rolled your eyes before I even said a word. ‘Hangman, I presume.’ That was the first thing you said to me. You didn’t even give me a chance to reply, ‘I’m Cosmo, your new WSO, and if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go somewhere else so you can’t hit on me.’ I was shocked and intrigued,” he chuckles fondly at the memory. “That was when I knew I’d do everything possible to ensure we were friends.  And yes, I was hoping for more than friends. But I didn’t know then what I know now…” 

There’s no opportunity for you to react before Coyote ends the call, as instructed.

Jake blasts out a relieved breath. You didn’t turn away and ignore him, so that was a good start. Now for part two…

Finally, you’re en route to get your breakfast burrito. You ask the loved-up couple what it is that Jake didn’t know, but they both smile smugly and, as if they had practiced, in scary synchronization, tell you - “all in good time.”

You don’t have the mental capacity for games, so you let it go after Coyote promises the breakfast burritos are on him to apologize for the text misunderstanding. Though he still hasn’t explained what exactly you misunderstood.

The all-night diner always has customers. It’s the place the locals flock to for the coffee and chilled atmosphere. But at eleven on a Tuesday, only a few people sit in the booths near the windows. Natasha enters first, Javy covering your six and you're suspicious that it could be to block your exit because Jake is waiting for you.

It’s not Jake, though. It’s Bradley - floral pattern shirt over his white tank, aviators tucked in his collar, and that boyish smile with a hint of an apology. He gives a small wave, then turns his phone, holding it up to your eye level to show you Jake again on a video call. 

Jake is smiling, but you see his chest puff with a deep inhale. You wonder if he’s nervous because your friends are listening or he fears your rejection, maybe both. With a soft exhale, he begins, “This is where we came to escape Rooster’s awful murder mystery night.” 

“Hey!” Bradley complains.

You grimace. “Sorry, Rooster.”

“No, it’s fair,” Bradley shrugs, “it was pretty bad.”

Jake chuckles but continues, “You picked Fanboy to partner up with, and I was so damn jealous. I got stuck with Harvard, but after an hour, you convinced me to ditch it all, and we snuck off here. We spent the whole night talking. We never came up for air, we just kept swapping stories and getting to know each other. I told you about my family’s ranch back home, and you said you’d love to see it.” 

“I remember,” you say, half smiling. 

His smile grows. “For months after, I kept trying to work out how to make it happen. I spent most of my time daydreaming about introducing you to my family, but I didn’t want to do it as my coworker or friend.” he pauses and sighs, “I think I had some idea then, but I still didn’t know what I know now…”

Rooster turns the phone and ends the call.

So this is it, you realize, this is your grand gesture. This is the moment in your story where you get the big speech and happy ending. But maybe you shouldn’t let your hope get the better of you. 

You roll your eyes. “I swear if what he knows now is some sexual innuendo or anything shy of I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him, you’re all in big trouble!” 

They all laugh, and you try to hide your smile, but it’s not easy. 

“You still owe me a burrito, Javy.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he winks and walks to the counter.

You sit at the usual table the Daggers have adopted as their own. You don’t want to be that annoying person who fishes for information because A, you know they won’t tell you, and B, you need to be in the moment and enjoy it, so instead, you ask for a rundown of Karaoke night.

Bradley animatedly tells you about each of the Dagger’s very unsuccessful attempts to beat his record as Javy brings the food over. Seven burritos are stacked high on the serving tray, and before you can ask who the extra ones are for, you feel a hand on your back.

Mickey is smiling down at you, holding a single red rose. “This is an apology for the Laura incident,” he says, handing you the flower and dipping to kiss your cheek. 

Reuben follows, doing exactly the same but stating, “This is an apology for the Nicole incident.”

Finally, Bob follows suit and explains, “This is an apology for the Kate incident.”

You laugh to hide the well of emotion that brings tears to your eyes. Jake is genuinely taking this seriously, and for all he knows, you might not be on the same page. He’s taking a considerable risk. 

“So you’re all involved,” you say. 

“Yep,” Fanboy says, sitting across from you. 

“And just like Jake said,” Payback smirks, “we can see how much you hate that we know what’s going on and you don’t.”

Immaturely, you sneer mockingly at him, “Ooo, you all know a secret,” you say, accompanied by a roll of your eyes. But despite the jests and your outward irritation, something a lot like affection blooms in your chest as you realize how well Jake knows you. 

Apparently, Natasha is helping with whatever is happening next because as she quickly swallows the last bite of her breakfast, she announces she has to ‘run an errand’ and leaves you in the capable hands of the guys.

You ride with Javy in his 1968 Chevy C10, realizing the next part of this scheme must be a big deal because he only brings out the deep red glossed vehicle for special occasions.  Bradley follows in the Bronco with Bob, Mickey, and Reuben, and you honestly have no idea where you're headed or why everyone is tagging along. 

The drive takes you out of the city. Desert and cacti are the only scenery for a while. The conversation is light, Javy mostly being a fanboy over Natasha, and it’s beautiful and endearing to hear how he talks about her. He’s completely besotted. 

You see the small cluster of hangers up ahead, and you know that's your destination before Javy pulls off the road and makes his way to the furthest hanger.

“Why is this a team outing?” you ask as he drives across the airfield. 

“It doesn’t need to be,” Coyote laughs. “But if all goes to plan, Bob agreed to drive Jake’s car back to town. And if it doesn’t, the others…well, they’re here to watch Jake burn-in.”

“So Jake’s here?” you ask. 

“Yeah,” Javy nods, pulling into a hanger beside an old P-51 Mustang. 

“Mav’s?” you ask. 

“You know it,” he smiles, shuts off the engine, and turns to face you. “Look, if you don’t want to do this, I’ll drive you out of here right now. Take you wherever you wanna go. But Jake is my boy, and I’ll be the first to admit he’s got a shitty track record.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “But I promise, he’s different when it comes to you and deserves a chance to show you.”

You inhale deeply, holding it in for a loaded pause. “Okay,” you exhale, “but get the guys out of here. I don’t want an audience.” 

“Done.”

Coyote hops out of the car, and slowly you follow. The guys grumble at being ushered away while you walk around the plane admiring the pristine condition, wondering how Maverick keeps it up with everything else he has going on.

Your step falters as you round the front of the plane. Jake is standing a few feet away, one hand behind his back with a bashful smile.

“I hear I owe you an apology,” you say.

“We both made some mistakes,” he shrugs.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” you sigh. “I should have listened to you or at least given you the chance to explain yourself. I truly am sorry.” 

He strides toward you, a man with a purpose, and cups your cheek with one hand. He draws you to him as he dips to kiss you softly. It’s short but tender, and he pulls away, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. “But I wasn’t sure you’d ever let me do that again, and I needed to…” 

You cut him off with a searing kiss, deepening it with a swipe of your tongue and a hand around the back of his neck.

Way too soon, he mumbles, “Wait, wait,” against your mouth.

Reluctantly, you release him, taking a half step back to be able to see him better.

“I have this whole thing planned out, and you're ruining it,” he admonishes playfully. 

You chuckle. “Sorry, I’ll stop kissing you.” 

“Please,” he says, nodding, then quickly correcting himself, “but only for a minute or two.” He sweetly pecks your lips and pulls a single red rose from behind his back. 

You accept, bringing it to your nose to inhale the sickly sweet aroma. “So, who’s this an apology for?”

“Not a who,” he says. “It’s an apology for me breaking the rules and going about this all wrong. When I suggested a weekend pass and promised it wouldn’t affect our work, I didn’t know what I know now.”

“Which is?” 

“I know now that a weekend with you will never be enough. I know that at the time, I was willing to take whatever I could get. I wanted you in any way I could have you, and in true Hangman style, I didn’t think, or maybe care, about the aftermath.”

“Neither of us did,” you admit. You had thought about the consequences, but the idea of being with Jake, even for the briefest time, outweighed the negatives. 

“I know now that I don’t want you for a weekend, Cosmo, and I don’t want you to be a secret I have to keep. I want to tell the world you’re mine, and I’m yours. I want you as more than a friend and colleague. I want to be with you for a lifetime or as long as you’ll put up with me.”

You smile, “a lifetime sounds like a good place to start.”

He snatches the flower from your hands, throwing it over your shoulder before grabbing your waist and tugging you into him. “Can I kiss you now?” you jest.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Butterflies do cartwheels in your stomach, his hands hold you tightly, and every brush of your tongues feels like a promise for the future.

Jake groans, and you melt into him. An approaching car engine is ambient noise until applause and wolf whistles drown it out. Jake doesn’t release you until Coyote slaps him on the back.

Natasha steps out of the car, smiling happily, and Javy greets her with a sweet kiss.

“You missed it,” you tell her as she approaches. 

“Didn’t miss a thing,” she smirks, shaking her phone and showing you she’s connected to a video call with Javy. 

You should have guessed. You yank her into a too-tight hug, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she whispers, kissing the side of your head. “But you might not want to thank me yet.”

She walks back to the car and around to the trunk, where she pulls out a suitcase that Javy kindly takes from her and carries over to Jake. 

“What’s going on?” you ask, suspiciously. 

“I wanted more time with you at the hotel,” Jake explains. “I wasn’t ready for it to end, and I hate that it ended the way it did so,” he draws the word out, a hint of nerves in his tone. He slaps the front of the plane before flinching immediately. It takes half a second to realize that Mav is probably watching from somewhere - or at the very least, Jake can hear your commanding officer chewing him out for the inappropriate treatment of his aircraft. “What do you say to a week on my family’s ranch?”

The fact that you're standing beside Maverick’s P-51 means he’s already got the leave approved.

“I say,” you pause, keeping your face neutral just to mess with Jake a little longer. “Take me away, Cowboy.”

Jake’s smile beams brighter than you’ve ever seen. “My family are gonna love you.” 

End.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog.

Master Lists: Series // Top Gun Maverick // Main

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