#driving instructor woking

[violentdevotion]

just slept 11 hours. what did i miss?

[evermorecountsastherapy]

y'all I just procrastinated an assignment for the past 2 hours that literally took me 7 minutes to complete and hand in... like what... what is so wrong in my brain chemistry that I am like this...

[gold-dustwomxn]

mystified

part 2

summary: after sudden attacks on women around town, you take a self defense class. ellie, your long standing crush is the instructor

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

each chapter will have their own warnings please read them! eventual smut

cw: mentions of child abuse and implication of attempted sexual assault (does not go into detail for either), panic attack

fluff and angst

light rocking against your shoulder and a distant call of your name pulls you from your deep slumber making you groan, not conscious enough to take in where you are. “hey sleepyhead, wake up.” ellie’s raspy whisper has you cracking one eye open. you’re too tired to even speak or think coherently, making you hum in question.

ellie chuckles and looks at you for a moment before speaking. “sorry to wake you up so early.. I gotta be at the construction site in an hour.” you blink away your remnants of sleep and realize ellie has damp hair, is fully dressed for the day and the sun isn’t even up yet. “it’s okay. sorry I fell asleep here I didn’t even realize.” she smiles softly, “no worries, I don’t mind. you looked pretty comfy..I can drive you home on my way to work.”

the short drive to your house shares a peaceful, comfortable silence between you and ellie. the sky painting a breathtaking winter sunrise of pinks and purple. ellie pulls up to your house way too quickly for your liking, the small disappointment of having to part ways felt in your chest.

“thanks for the ride and letting me crash at your place.. I had fun last night.”

“me too,” she smiles and you feel that warmth settle deep in your stomach again. it’s a rarity to see her full smile “it’s no problem, really.. are you busy tonight?”

“no, I don’t think I have anything going on.” you know you don’t actually have anything going on. you bite the inside of your cheek to try to suppress a smile, but ellie looks between your eyes and down at your mouth and smirks at you. caught.

“well, if you’re not busy later you wanna hang out? I get off at 3, we can go to a cafe or something.” she clears her throat and you can see how physically painful this is for her. she forces herself to keep eye contact though.

you giggle and she narrows her eyes at you playfully, unspoken words and body language received between the both of you. “yeah, I’m down. just text me when you get off.”

“alright cool I can pick you up. see you later, ___.”

me: DINA wake the fuck up!!!!!

dina🤍: bitch its literally 7am why tf are u disturbing me

me: wow. anyway! last night I was walking to ur house and some creepy dude pulls up next to me asking me for directions and shit acting super sketchy. ellie pulls up out of nowhere and goes all psycho ellie mode and pulls out a fucking switchblade. I was like 😦 but it was also so hot. he skids off and she gets pics of his plates and we go back to her place for joel to deal with it. he thinks the cops can keep an eye out for that car and see if that guy has anything to do with the assaults happening. it was lowkey really scary but I’m okay. we ended up smoking and talking for hours and it was literally perfect and then we ended up falling asleep and I woke up in the middle of the night laying ON HER CHEST with her arm around me. we’re hanging out again tonight

dina🤍: wtf that’s so fucking scary! im glad ur okay:( but ommg im so excited for u angel. its ab damn time some moves are made and we can go on double dates tg hehe

me: ok let’s not get ahead of ourselves here we’ll see what happens. that’s all I wanted to tell u. ur allowed to go back to sleep now:)

dina🤍: wow how gracious of u. lmk how everything goes though <33

clothes are strewn all over your bed and floor, while you frantically try to find a cute outfit to wear. it’s fine, it’s just ellie. she’s seen you a million times since you were both 14. you finally settle on a pair of jeans and a black sweater, with your chelsea doc martens. good enough.

ellie🌿🗡️: Hey, I’m outside whenever you’re ready.

me: be right there!

okay, just breathe. everything’s fine!

as you hop into the passenger seat, ellie looks you up and down. “you look good.” you give her a shy smile and observe her; hair tied half up, in a dark green flannel with an oversized black denim jacket, black jeans with her usual pair of converse, multiple rings on her long fingers, and the scent of her woodsy cologne. “thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself.” she smiles and shakes her head, pulling out of your driveway.

“yeah, he almost dropped a whole fucking plank of wood on my head today!”

you start laughing, walking out of the coffee shop together. “maybe the hit would’ve done you good, ellie. you are very hard headed.” ellie’s jaw drops “wow, someone’s feisty today, huh?” you smile and roll your eyes, going to shove her and she catches your wrist, pulling you close to her. your breath hitches and you look down at her lips. something behind you catches ellie’s attention, her smile dropping instantly and face turning ghostly pale.

“ellie? what’s wrong?” she grabs your hand and walks you quickly to the car, opening your door to make sure you get in first before frantically hopping into her seat and speeding out of the parking lot.

“hey, what’s going on?” she shakes her head and doesn’t respond, her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate, eyebrows scrunched together.

the speed of her driving and her concerning behavior is stressing you the fuck out. she pulls up to her house and lets you both in before she runs up the stairs to the bathroom, whipping the door shut with a loud slam.

you slowly walk up the stairs, not knowing whether or not to give her privacy. you suddenly hear her crying and hyperventilating. “ellie, I’m coming in.”

ellie is seated on the floor next to the tub with her head between her legs, forearms laid on her knees. “hey, hey I’m here. can I touch you?” she nods and you gently take her hand, softly rubbing the back of her palm while you place her other hand against your chest. “try to follow my breathing, okay?” you take slow, deep breaths for her to follow until she calms down.

“I’m sorry.” she avoids looking at you. “no, I’m here for you, okay? you don’t have to hide from me.” she wipes the rest of her tears from her eyes and nods. you move to sit next to her and gently rub her back, still holding her hand.

“do you wanna talk about it?” she clears her throat and looks straight ahead. “I uh… saw one of my old foster parents. he was pretty fucked up,” she lets out a dry laugh. “thought I was over it but I didn’t expect to see him.”

“what did he do?” she looks at you in contemplation before looking away with a cold, steely gaze. she sniffs and nods, “he… used to beat the shit out of me all the time for no reason.” she looks down at her scarred tattoo and rubs the skin. “this burn… he tried to-“ she clenches her jaw and shakes her head. “anyway, I managed to get away before he did anything, but I ended up burning my arm on the stove in the midst of it all. tried to press charges but that didn’t work, big shocker,” she scoffs. “I ran away and refused to go back so they placed me with joel and he eventually adopted me.”

she looks back up at you, trying to gauge what you’re thinking. you don’t realize you’re crying until she wipes away a tear from your cheek. “hey, don’t cry it was a long time ago I was just… not prepared for all of that.”

“sorry, I just hate that you had to go through all of that, especially at such a young age.” she lets out a deep breath and nods. “sorry our date got ruined” she gives you a sad smile.

“it wasn’t,” you squeeze her hand “I had a good time and I’m just glad I was able to be here with you.” you look up in thought, “do you have brownie mix?” she looks at you in confusion and lets out a small laugh “uh, I dunno, why?” “whenever I’m sad or going through something, I like to bake because it gives me something to do to take my mind off of everything and brownies are fucking good.” you nod with conviction. ellie laughs, “you are so fucking cute. c’mon let’s go see if I have some brownie mix.”

as you mix the chocolatey batter, and hum to the song playing on the speaker, ellie leans against the counter and watches you. she loves the domesticity and warmth you surround her with, and you were right, doing all of this is making her feel better.

“are you just gonna stand there and stare at me or are you gonna help?” “nah I think I’m good right here” she smirks at you. you nod slowly and look at her with mischief, holding up the spoon. her eyes widen and she points her finger at you, “don’t you fucking dare.”

you chase ellie around the kitchen island, out of breath from laughing and she ends up slipping on her sock, grabbing onto the counter for balance. as you run up to her and try to smear the batter on her face, she grabs your arm. you struggle against her, making you trip over her leg and she catches you, wrapping her arms around your waist. both of your laughters fade into small smiles as both of your eyes trails to each other’s lips. ellie’s face becomes serious as she leans in, lips ghosting yours. the sound of the front door opening has you both abruptly backing away from each other. fucking joel.

“hey kiddo, what are y’all up to?” ellie’s face is beet red and she clears her throat, “just making some brownies. why are you home?” ellie’s voice holds a bit of an edge to it.

“well, damn, I’ll get outta your hair in a minute, just stoppin’ by, forgot to pack my dinner.” she hums in annoyance. your eyes widen at the tension ellie is radiating.

“joel! my parents wanted me to give this to you as a thanks for the free self defense lesson, and for helping me out yesterday.” you open up your bag and take out a bottle of whiskey. ellie’s brows furrow, oops you forgot to tell her.

joel holds the bottle at a downward angle “would’ya look at that.. I’ll be sure to send my thanks to them.” he walks to the fridge and grabs out a container. “alright I’m headin’ out,” he looks at ellie “do me a favor, don’t burn the house down.” she groans and rolls her eyes.

“mm, these brownies are fucking good. you were right after all.” you scoff and smack her arm, “of course I was right. don’t ever doubt me again.” ellie rolls her eyes, “yes ma’am,” she quips sarcastically. “now, pay attention, this is my favorite part of the movie,” you say with feigned sternness. she smiles and nods, finishing off her brownie and leans back into her pillows.

you rest your head on her shoulder and place your hand on her stomach, tracing small patterns. you look up at her and whisper, “ellie?”

“hm?”

“do you really feel okay now?”

she turns her head to the side to look at you, face only inches away, and nods slowly. you feel her breath ghosting your lips and your heart starts racing, chest rising up and down quickly. ellie parts her mouth and licks her lips, leaning in, kissing you softly. she pulls away to look at you, before sitting up and grabbing your face, deepening the kiss.

HA sorry to edge u all. things are gonna get spicy as fuck in the next chapter. interactions are much appreciated 💗

taglist: @me-and-your-husband @fireflyels

[sunlightmurdock]

My Future in You | 2.5 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be out of the academy by now. Instead, he’s retaking his senior year of college and praying to god that he gets into flight school. Mav’s gone, his mom’s gone. He’s mad at the world. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, will be smut so 18+, enemies to lovers kinda thing, extreme inaccuracies on hospitals and the entire birthing process but this is fiction so we move. WC: 4.7k

…

Bradley spins the padlock, humming as he does, twisting the lock and pulling open his locker. That run was awful, his instructor has been breathing down his back and Bradley had fucked up two consecutive manoeuvres. He’s sweaty, and tired.

It’s nice out, though, and you’ve been so couped up recently that it’s driving you crazy. If he’s done early enough he could take you out. It’s the middle of summer, there are tons of properties not far that host drive-ins.

You’d probably like that.

He reaches for his bag first. Towel, clothes, soap — the necessities. Under that, is his phone, which he picks up absentmindedly, without checking. Immediately, it starts to buzz in his hand. He turns it over as he walks towards the showers, seeing an unknown number flash up on the screen.

Instinct tells him to answer. He taps the button and cautiously brings the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“There you are, you son of a bitch!”

Bradley blinks, frowning slightly. His stomach drops.

“Jake?”

“No, no! Don’t you dare fucking speak, where the hell are you?” Jake rants on the other end of the line. Bradley’s brows furrow as he plugs a finger into his ear to try to hear. He knows for a fact that Jake gets one call a week, and he hasn’t ever wasted that call on speaking to Bradley.

“What? — I’m at work, what’s going on?” About fifteen other pilots just piled into this room behind him, it’s hard to hear, even with the way your brother is screaming.

“My baby sister’s about to have your kid in your dumbass uncle’s car is what’s going on! — I’m so serious about this, Bradley, if you fucking let her down today, I will kill you — I promise you that I will actually—“

“Uncle? Jake, slow down, I’m grabbing my keys. Where the fuck is she?” Bradley turns on his heel and shoves his way back through the steam-filled locker room, pressing the phone closer to try to hear. It has been hours since he was able to check his phone and the thought makes his throat tight. He can’t think of how many times you would have tried to reach him, how scared you must be.

It’s the entire reason you’re here, away from everything you have ever known; so that he could be there for you. And he isn’t. He might have missed it. He could have let you down all over again.

“She’s on her way to Sacred Heart Hospital! Do you know how many fucking times she tried to call you?” Before Jake even gets to finish his second sentence, Bradley has started running, hoping that he doesn’t turn a corner and knock hot coffee into someone important.

Jake continues to rant on the other end of the line but Bradley’s far from even listening. All he can think of now is when he woke up the night after halloween and saw you laying in his bed, wrapped in his jersey. You had looked so comfortable that he hadn’t wanted to wake you.

On his run that morning, he had thought about it. If he had woken you. Asked you for your number, asked you on a date. He had thought about the way you had joked the night before and the instant connection. But then he came home and realized who you were. It was all downhill from there with the way he had treated you.

He should have just woken you that morning, asked you if you would go to dinner with him. There are so many things he would do differently now. He swallows as he climbs into the driver’s side of his truck and wraps a hand around the wheel just to notice how much he’s trembling now.

“Are you fucking listening to me?”

Bradley swallows, fumbling to get the key into the ignition and balance his phone between his ear and his cheek. “Look, Jake… I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you when I can.”

Jake starts to protest, but Bradley hangs up anyway. His heartbeat thuds in his ears as he backs out of the parking spot. August third. It hasn’t ever been important before, it will be every day for the rest of his life. It’s his son’s birthday.

Maverick winces at your bedside. He has been told by nurses six times now to just sit, that it could be a while before a doctor can see you. But, he won’t. He has been standing to the right side of your bed for over an hour now. He has been acting on autopilot, he barely even knows how he got you here. It’s the one thing that has kept him alive in his career so far, probably. Instinct.

He watches as you double forwards, gritting your teeth, whimpering in pain.

Bradley doesn’t have anybody, Maverick never had anybody. You’ve got two parents out there somewhere who are willing to let you go through this alone. He swallows softly at the thought and lifts his hand, brushing it tenderly over your head as he leans closer.

“It’s alright, you’re going to be just fine.” He says quietly. Your hand darts out and your fingers link between his, squeezing hard at his shaking hand. As much as he’s certain that your grip is going to bruise, he just exhales slowly and smooths his thumb over the back of your hand.

He didn’t even know your name this morning.

“Alright, Miss Seresin,” The snap of a surgical glove alerts the both of you, looking up quickly to see the smiling woman in the colourful scrubs entering the room. “My name is Lucy, I’m just here to do a quick check on how things are progressing. How does that sound?”

Still gritting your teeth, you’re too busy holding your breath and waiting for the pain to subside to answer her. Maverick makes a pained sound at your side, exhaling deeply as you finally let go of his hand.

“Mhm.” You manage out.

Lucy offers you a sympathetic smile as she pulls up a stool at the end of the bed. Maverick turns his attention towards the ceiling as she settles between your legs. You make a soft sound, closing your eyes. You wish that your mom was here holding your hand, rather than Bradley’s last standing family member.

“Okay, you’re still at six centimeters,” Lucy hums. You drop your head back against the pillow and groan in frustration. You’ve been at six centimeters for an hour and a half. Maverick squeezes your hand softly as Lucy grabs your chart from the end of the bed. “How would you rate your pain at the moment?”

“I don’t know. Does it get worse than this?” Your voice trembles as you speak. After sobbing hysterically into both Bradley’s voicemail and to Jake’s commander, begging him to put Jake on the phone, you’ve been doing your best not to cry again. It seems to make Maverick uncomfortable.

“Can you give her anything? — An epidural, or whatever?” Maverick presses.

Lucy presses her lips into a line as she pushes herself to her feet and sets the chart back into its place. She gives a small shake of her head. If she knew anything about Pete Mitchell, she would know that ‘no’ isn’t a word he often agrees with.

“Why not?” He urges, brows knitting together as he drops your hand and straightens up. You glance between him and her.

She sighs softly. “With pregnancies that have complications, we tend to advise against epidural. It could put more strain on his heart, we would have to monitor very closely.”

“So monitor it closely. If you’re so worried, why has she been sitting here for an hour on her own?” Maverick challenges her. Lucy looks towards you and wrings her hands together.

“Pete, stop.” You breathe out.

“I can get the doctor to discuss it with you. It’s still an option at this point, but—“

“I don’t want it.” Your answer is instant. It’s the most confident you’ve sounded all day. Maverick’s head whips around and for the first time, you catch sight of Bradley in his eyes. It’s not a genetic thing, just more of a temperament. All of those hours spent together, Bradley’s quizzical, developing mind. He’s been copying those mannerisms subconsciously since he was in the first grade.

“But—“

“I don’t want it. We’ll be just fine without it.” You decide calmly, smoothing your palms over your swollen stomach for one of the last times. Pete opens his mouth at your side, he almost argues with you, but he stops himself. This isn’t his kid, or even his family — Bradley has made that clear. So, pressing his lips together, he just nods.

Bradley can feel all of the eyes on him. Maybe it’s because he’s in uniform, maybe it’s because he is walking so fast that when he collided with a doctor two minutes ago, he knocked the poor guy straight on his ass and just kept walking. His eyes widen as he spots the reception desk finally.

“Seresin. My, uh — my girlfriend is having a baby. Her last name is Seresin, she should be here.” Bradley breathes out. The nurse looks up at him and smiles. She sees a lot of stressed out, first time dads. This isn’t unusual.

“Alright. What’s your name, honey?” She smiles.

“Bradley Bradshaw.”

“I’ll tell her you’re here, I’ll come get you as soon as she says it’s okay. Why don’t you get some water, just take a breath?” She reaches out and pats the hand that he has resting on top of the counter. Bradley swallows, managing to give her a stiff nod.

She’s gone for less than two minutes, but Bradley’s pounding heart just makes it feel like it’s an eternity. She can see it on his face when she walks back towards him that he’s terrified. So, she just offers him a smile and nods for him to follow her.

At first, Bradley doesn’t even notice that there’s anyone else in the room. All he sees is you, sitting up in the bed, your hair pulled back and tears in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He rushes towards you. You whimper as he wraps you in his arms, grabbing onto him tightly. He leans down and kisses the top of your head. “Jake got through to me, I got here as soon as I could.”

“I was scared you wouldn’t make it in time.” You whisper into his chest. Bradley turns his head and kisses your temple, nodding. He opens his mouth to agree, and then takes notice of who is standing at the other side of your bed. His uncle. He hadn’t taken much notice of what Jake had said on the phone.

He stands up straight and stares, silent for a second. Maverick has learned by now to just keep his mouth shut.

“I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from my family.”

“Bradley, don’t. He got me here, he stayed with me.” You frown up at him. Bradley just stares over you, looking at the man who has let him down again and again for as long as they have known each other.

Maverick takes a slow step back, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’ll go. I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”

“No, Mav—“

“I don’t want him here. He doesn’t need to be anywhere near—“

“I want him here.” You answer back, scowling up at your boyfriend. Of all the stupid arguments that the two of you have had, Bradley knows better than to pick a fight with someone who is in active labour.

Even so, Maverick has spent more than two decades going against Bradley’s wishes. Making him eat his vegetables, refusing to let him drop out of little league, almost ruining his career. He needs to give his nephew some leeway here, if this is going to work.

“I could go to your place. Get you some things, give you two a minute. I’ll come back, sit in the waiting room. If you want me, I’ll be right outside.”

“No.” Bradley deadpans. You shoot him a look, then turn to offer Pete a small smile.

“Can I text you a list? I have it all written on my phone.”

Maverick nods. He still has your keys from earlier, and honestly, he’s grateful to be out from Bradley’s glare once he leaves the room. You’re grateful that you aren’t going to have the two of them fighting while you’re trying to do this.

Bradley’s scowl fades once he’s certain that Maverick is far enough away. He turns around and perches on the side of your bed, draping his arm around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head.

“How are you feeling? — Did they give you anything for the pain, yet?” He asks softly, smoothing his free hand tenderly over your stomach. You scrunch your nose slightly and turn to frown at him.

“No — Bradley, you smell disgusting.”

He stares back at you, blinking slowly. “Honey, I ran a red light to get here. Showering wasn’t my top priority.”

“No, I know, but — could you maybe put your arm down?”

His mouth twitches, giving an amused shake of his head as he unwraps his arm from around you. He entwines his fingers with yours instead, giving your hand a soft squeeze. “What do you mean they haven’t given you anything? — Do you want me to talk to someone?”

“No, no. I can’t have an epidural, it would put him at risk. I’m going to do it without.” You’re quiet as you explain it, just waiting for Bradley to freak out like Maverick had wanted to. He’s quiet for a minute. You brace yourself.

He strokes his thumb softly along the fabric of the hospital gown. It takes him a minute to finally lift his head and look you in the eye. He exhales slowly.

“You’re sure?”

“You couldn’t change my mind if you tr— ah.” You wince, sitting bolt upright and holding your breath. Bradley barely even notices you squeezing his hand. He feels sick, watching the way your entire body goes rigid with the pain. He has read that this can take like eight hours the first time, and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to sit through eight hours of watching you suffer like this.

That being said, there’s nothing he can do but be here. An hour later, he’s already on the verge of tearing his hair out as silent tears roll down your cheeks while you sip on water. He has suggested the epidural twice more since your first conversation, you’ve refused it twice.

The contractions are more regular now. You’re trying to keep him calm, knowing that he’s freaking out even more than you are, but they’re close enough together now that you haven’t spoken in a while. You knew this was going to hurt, but the last ten minutes have been agony.

“Okay, Miss Seresin, just here for another quick check.” Lucy strolls back into the room smiling again, shooting a quick look to the new man standing at your bedside. Bradley glances between you and her, fighting to ask her where the hell she has been. She sits between your legs once more. You sigh in discomfort. The thing about not having an epidural — you can feel everything. “Oh.”

Bradley looks at her. “Oh?”

“She, uh — We’re just about there. That was fast, you’re sure this is your first?” Her smile has faded for the first time. You stare at her face. She looks scared. You feel like you’re going to throw up.

“She’d notice if it wasn’t, wouldn’t she?” Bradley bites. You swing your arm out and smack him in the stomach. Lucy stands up quickly.

“I’m going to grab the doctor.”

You’re quiet as she hurries off, turning your head and looking up at Bradley. He watches your lip tremble and reaches out instinctively, stroking gently at your cheek. He wipes a salty tear from your skin.

“She looked worried.” You whisper to him.

He leans down, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your mouth as he squeezes your hand. “You’ve got this. You’re going to be just fine. This whole time, you’ve been so strong. Just a little longer.”

Squeezing his hand, you lean closer and rest your face against his arm.

“I’m so fucking scared.”

“Nothing’s going to happen, to either one of you.” Bradley kisses the top of your head, his eyes sting. He closes them and inhales the familiar scent of your hair. There’s no way in hell he’s going to cry in front of you. “Just a little longer and he’s going to be here, this is all going to be worth it.”

He doesn’t know that for sure, there’s no way that he can, but it’s enough for you to believe it. Besides, there isn’t a lot of time to be caught up in the fear. Once pushing starts, there’s only one thing on your mind and that’s getting this over and done with.

Bradley isn’t sure what he was expecting labour to be like, but he wasn’t expecting so many people. There are six people in this room and Bradley isn’t sure exactly what any of them are here for specifically. His main focus is you.

Each time you push, your body goes tense, you grit your teeth and you hold your breath. He’s sure that you’re going to pass out any minute now.

“Okay, another big one. You’re doing great.” The doctor instructs. Bradley shoots him a furious look. A nurse at your side is quick to rub your shoulder and tell you to breathe. He leans in close and kisses the top of your head. Once again, you grit your teeth and push hard. Bradley feels like he can’t breathe himself.

This time, you don’t hold your breath. Instead, it’s all forced out of your lungs at once as you scream out, digging your nails into Bradley’s palm, hot tears spilling onto your cheeks. The second that you’re done screaming, there’s no getting your breath back. You inhale too fast and sob back out an exhale. Again and again as the nurse at your side tells you to slow down.

“Alright, and again.” The doctor sighs.

Your eyes flicker to him, and Bradley snaps. He can’t stand the pain in your expression, and he can’t stand that doctor’s fucking tone. “Again? — She needs a break. She can’t go again.”

The abundantly calm older lady between your legs simply lifts her head and looks up at him through her glasses. She has been delivering babies longer than either one of you has been alive. “Son, there’s no time for a break right now. This baby’s coming. Rather than yelling at me, focus on her.”

Bradley’s jaw ticks as he settles in closer and brings your knuckles up to rest against his lips. He winces, blinking back tears as you have to go through another tough push. Your head falls back against the pillows in a moment of brief respite.

He studies your face for a second. Up until this exact moment in time, as he’s wiping tears from your cheeks with his free hand, Bradley had seen the two of you maybe having another kid. Right now, he’s certain that he’ll never put you through any of this again.

“You must hate me right now.” He whispers, giving a soft shake of his head. Honestly, he doesn’t really expect you to answer. He barely expects you to hear him. He definitely doesn’t expect you to laugh.

Your face is hot, and blotchy with tears. Your entire body is exhausted and trembling, and you’re laughing at him. Sniffling, you blink through the tears, “I’ve hated you more than I do right now, it’s okay.”

He can’t help but smile, brushing a few strands of hair back off of your face, then leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I’ve been thinking a lot, about the future, and about our family—“

“Don’t you dare fucking propose to me right now, Bradley. Don’t.” You growl. The nurse at your side just can’t hold it in. Bradley frowns at her as she giggles and rubs soothingly at your back. He kisses your knuckles and closes his mouth.

You’re right. He’ll finish that speech another time.

“Here’s his head.”

Bradley looks swiftly away and stares at the ceiling. The death-grip that you’ve got on his hand is the least of his worries. The thought alone is enough to make him dizzy. Jake’s going to kill him if he passes out. He inhales slowly through his nose and leans in again, resting his forehead against your temple as you cry out.

“There we go, that’s perfect. Keep going, he’s almost here.” The doctor’s tone never lifts above a breezy cadence. She’s beyond cool, finally glancing up to offer you a small smile.

He sticks to your side, kissing your temple. Your chest heaves. There’s not long to go, you’re almost done. But, the end is the worst. It really does feel like you’re going to black out. You don’t know how people have been doing this for so long, or why some of them choose to have so many kids after this pain.

You half expect to give up, to break down crying and begging for your mother before it’s all done. You’re right on the verge, whimpering into the sleeve of Bradley’s flight suit. And then, it’s over. The doctor exhales deeply and hums.

He takes his first big inhale and promptly wails into the air.

The doctor has him in her hands when she looks up and catches sight of the two of you before her. You’re clinging onto his hand and he’s pressing as close to you as he can without crawling into the bed. There’s a fearful, awestruck look plastered across both of your faces as you stare in the direction of the scream.

She smiles at the two of you. You’re going to be just fine.

“Would you like to cut the cord?” The doctor asks Bradley calmly. He regrets yelling at her now, but she doesn’t seem to be holding a grudge.

Bradley blinks, then shakes his head. “No, I don’t want to hurt him.

She chuckles, then shakes her head. “You won’t.”

He does as instructed, rolling his sleeves up, and quickly cleaning his hands and arms. He’s the first one that gets a look. As he sets the scissors back down, he turns his head towards you with a look on his face that you haven’t seen before.

Blinking back tears, Bradley smiles softly at you. And then he’s all yours. They set the baby down on your chest, starting to clean and dry him off right away. Bradley moves to your side once again, brushing your hair back off of your forehead.

Still wailing, you whimper quietly as you stare down at the infant. Ten fingers, ten toes, a good set of lungs on him. Bradley’s lips press softly to your forehead as you reach out, hands trembling, and trail your fingers featherlight along the length of his spine.

His plush, pink lips tremble as the wailing starts to subside. Bradley strokes tenderly at the nape of your neck with his thumb, rendered silent as he watches you with him.

“Hi,” You breathe out, hugging the towel closer to him. You inhale deeply, then exhale through your nose. A nurse smiles as she reaches around you to place the soft knit hat on top of his head. He’s warm enough now, you want to keep it that way. “Hi, baby boy.”

Bradley swallows the lump in his throat. Four and a half hours of labour without any tears. Twelve seconds of watching you with your baby and hot tears are stinging his eyes.

You get five minutes with him before they have to check his vitals, his weight, his height. As much as your arms feel empty without him there, you want those results. You want him to be fine. You want to see him in that bassinet beside your bed tomorrow night.

Blinking, you look up at Bradley. He scoffs as your mouth falls open.

“Allergies.” He mumbles, crouching down to kiss your mouth as tears dampen his cheeks. You reach up and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, turning your face into his neck. You feel him relax into your touch. He kisses your shoulder, sniffling.

Both of you let it be quiet for a moment. You won’t be getting a lot of that once you’re at home, not with that boy’s vocal chords.

“Thank you,” Bradley mumbles into the crook of your neck. He pulls back from the hug just slightly, brushing the backs of his fingers along your cheek. He sighs, then nods seriously. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t ask me to do it again.” You joke, watching his tearful face shift into a grin. He sits forwards and kisses you. You close your eyes as he trails his fingertips along your arms.

“I’m serious,” He tells you softly, watching you blink tiredly. “I’d have nothing if it wasn’t for you. I was bitter and mean, and you were way too nice to me. It’s because of you that we have him. I’m so, so grateful.”

Your lips quirk up into a soft smile. If Jake could hear some of this, he would probably start to like Bradley again.

Exhaustion starts to set in, but there’s no time to sleep when there are doctors and nurses fussing over you, and then he’s being bundled back into you again.

Your eyelids are heavy as you turn your head and look over at Bradley, sitting in the chair beside your bed. His flight suit is tied around his waist and his t-shirt is draped over the back of the chair. Your baby looks tiny nestled into his arms.

You fight to keep awake as your always calm doctor walks into the room once again and sits down between the two of you.

“Seventeen inches, four pounds and ten ounces. Congratulations.” She tells the two of you with a small smile. Bradley doesn’t look up at her, smoothing his fingertips through the soft, dark hair on your son’s head. She looks at you, then at Bradley. “He’s strong. He’s doing well. We’re going to move you to the neonatal intensive care unit so that we can keep an eye on his feedings. We need to get that weight up, keep him warm. But, I’m not concerned.”

You swallow softly. “The tests and everything… he looked okay?”

She stands up and takes two small steps towards you. She rests her hand softly on your forearm, giving you a sincere nod. “Aside from his weight, he’s perfect. Does he have a name?”

Bradley finally lifts his head and looks, offering you a small smile. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and nod at her. “His name’s Thomas.”

It breaks your heart when it’s time for him to go. The thought of him being without you on that ward. Bradley holds you while you cry, and truthfully, he feels like crying too. It’s been a long day. You’re all emotional.

He stays with you until you fall asleep. Then, half-awake himself, he heads off to see your son. It’s the first night that he gets to say goodnight to the both of you.

Bradley stops as he closes the door to your room behind him. He stares at the man asleep in the waiting area, drooling on his hand as it props his chin up. He knew Mav had gotten here a while ago, someone had brought the bag in. Bradley just figured he would have gone home by now. Exhaling slowly, he clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides.

“Mav?”

The older pilot startles awake, blue eyes wide and blinking quickly as he tries to figure out where he is. It takes him a moment to figure out who is in front of him. Tall, flight-suit, mustache. Maverick feels the lump in his throat grow as he realises that it isn’t his best friend.

He looks Bradley up and down. He looks older now than he did a few hours ago, not just because he’s tired. Because Maverick isn’t looking at a little boy anymore.

“There’s someone you probably want to meet, huh?”

…

tags: @chaoticweirdogeek @alanadetigy @itsmytimetoodream @oldnatgwenaccount @khaylin27 @bioodforbiood @luckyladycreator2 @mizzzpink @cherrycola27 @unordinare @shanimallina87 @heli991113 @ghxst-heart @momc95 @asteria33 @lilyevanswhore @diamond-3 @galaxy-moon @jostyriggslover96 @forgiveliv @shawnsblue @little-wiseone @lovemesomevesey @alm33 @averyhotchner @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @slutford

[hikarry]

So, as someone that has been trying to take their drivers license for months now but is too gay and stupid to do so, I believe I have the knowledge to judge if Crowley is actually a good driver or not

First off, contrary to Aziraphale whom took driving classes like the good angel he is, I solemnly believe Crowley not once in his life looked at the rule book or met with a driving instructor. After the debacle in St. James Park because of the Holy Water and taking a long ass nap, one day he woke up, saw a Bentley, desired it, bought it and winged it

For the first few years winging it was enough cause the rules weren't so strict. That's why he is so chaotic driving. He learned by doing with no formal instruction

Sure, now he is somewhat "good" cause it has been a century or so since he started faking it till he made it and, let's say, he has very good reflexes to drive around other cars and pedestrians. But ask yourselves how much of the actual "good" driving is made by the Bentley herself

We know she's sentient. She can easily drive herself. Bet Crowley has avoided being discorporated multiple times while on the wheel because the Bentley took charge without him noticing and saved his ass, especially in the early days when he was still learning the ropes. And yes, she needed to be subtle about it or Crowley would be hella offended

So, no. In my superior and knowledgeable opinion, technically Crowley isn't a good driver, the Bentley is. Crowley is good at pretending he's good

(And, yes, technically speaking Aziraphale is a better driver than he is)

[cherriegyuu]

Cherriegyuu's Masterlist

(💧) angst - (💓) fluff - (🌟) favorite - (⚡) smut - ( 🫧) writing - (✅) done

❁ Willow ➝ marriage of convenience (💧✅ ) word count: 16.7k summary: seungcheol always knew that he was going to marry you, but things only get harder once he does ↳ one, two, three, drabble

❁ Enchanted ➝ oneshot (💓✅ ) word count: 1.2k summary: in which you meet seungcheol for the first time ↳ read here

❁ Strange Love ➝ oneshot (💧💓✅ ) word count: 3.1k summary: years after your divorce, you meet your ex and he wants to pick up where you left off ↳ read here

❁ Red ➝ oneshot (⚡✅) word count: 1.6k summary: the sight of seungcheol driving had always been your favorite but when both of you were trying to escape while being chased down by the police, you couldn't help but make things a little more… interesting ↳ read here

❁ High For This ➝ oneshot feat. mingyu (⚡✅) word count: 4.3k summary: seungcheol is willing to make your fantasies come true. ↳ read here

❁ Back Room ➝ oneshot (⚡✅) word count: 2.3k summary: while seungcheol is on a meeting you decide that it's a great moment to send him nudes. ↳ read here

❁ Calendar ➝ oneshot (⚡✅) word count: 3.1k summary: the red mark on the calendar is one of seungcheol's favorites ↳ read here

❁ Drabbles ❁

➝ in which he comforts you (💓)

➝ in which you get hurt in a car accident (💧💓)

➝ in which he helps you drive again (💧💓)

➝ in which he tore his acl (💧💓)

➝ in which he forgets a date (💧)

➝ [2:08] glimpse of us (💧)

➝ [6:45] in this light (💓)

❁ Breaking Point ➝ one shot (💧✅ ) word count: 1.5k summary: Jeonghan was never one to lose his patience with people, least of all you. But one day a fight gets out of control and it leaves you wondering if your relationship has come to an end. ↳ read here

❁ Lens of Ice ➝ figure skater!au (💧💓⚡✅) word count: 29k summary: jeonghan has only one chance left to make it to the olympics. as he embarks on this decisive journey, you, a documentarist, are set to follow him as he seeks the ultimate glory. ↳ part one, part two

❁ Drabbles ❁

➝ in which he finds you crying because of your period (💓)

➝ in which you reject him (💧)

❁ Sunday Afternoon ➝ oneshot (💓✅ ) word count: 2.4k summary: everyday Jun goes to the same café in hopes that one day he’ll get enough courage to ask the cute barista out. ↳ read here

❁ Drabbles ❁

➝ in which he comforts you after a long day at work (💓)

❁ Way Back Home ➝ one shot (💧💓✅ ) word count: 6.3k summary: after twelve years apart, you finally meet wonwoo again ↳ read here

❁ Asellus Australis ➝ collab (💧💓🫧) word count: 6.3k summary: Wonwoo couldn’t possibly be the only person living in Sydney who didn’t know how to swim, so he reluctantly says yes to the lessons his friends signed him up for. When he learns that you are his instructor, he figures learning how to swim as an adult isn’t all that embarrassing after all ↳ part one

❁ Drabbles ❁

➝ in which he is late (💧💓)

❁ Elevator ➝ soulmate!au (💧 🌟 ✅) word count: 27k summary: in a world where soulmates exists, Jihoon is faced with difficult decisions ↳ one, two

❁ One More Day ➝ parent!jihoon (💧 ✅) word count: 10k summary: every day jihoon has to make you fall for him again ↳ part one, part two

❁ Slow Motion ➝ oneshot (⚡💓✅) word count: 3.4k summary: when you offer to cut jihoon's hair, he has a hard time holding himself back from touching you ↳ read here

❁ Midnight ➝ oneshot (💧✅) word count: 2.1k summary: a sudden text leads you to the place you wished you never left ↳ read here

❁ Drabbles ❁

➝ in which you visit him at the studio (💓) ➝ to the start of forever (💓)

❁ Strange Love ➝ oneshot feat. seungcheol (💧💓✅ ) word count: 3.1k summary: years after your divorce, you meet your ex and he wants to pick up where you left off ↳ read here

❁ Crossing The Line ➝ oneshot (⚡💧💓✅) word count: 5.4k summary: Mingyu had always been your best friend and that line had never been crossed before, then, one day, you woke up naked ion his bed with a vivid memory of the previous night. ↳ one, two

❁ High For This ➝ oneshot feat. seungcheol (⚡✅) word count: 4.3k summary: seungcheol is willing to make your fantasies come true. ↳ read here

❁ So High School ➝ hockey player mingyu (💧💓🫧) word count: 8.8k summary: when you’re suddenly thrown in Mingyu’s direction, you have no choice but to stay by his side, and maybe it’s not as bad as you think ↳ read here

❁ Drabbles ❁

➝ in which mingyu wants to sleep on the couch after a fight (💓)

➝ in which you tell mingyu about a movie you watched as kid (💓)

➝ in which he he cuts his hair (💓)

❁ Memories of Us ➝ soulmate!au (💧 💓🌟 ✅) word count: 11.9k summary: every night seokmin dreams of his past lifes, when he met and fell for his soulmate countless times. ↳ read here

❁ Midnight Rain ➝ one shot (💧 💓⚡ ✅) word count: 17k summary: after seven years away, you finally return home. meeting seokmin again wasn't in your plans, but life wasn't willing to let you have it your way. ↳ read here

❁ Drabbles ❁

➝ constellations of him (💓)

❁ Raindrops ➝ oneshot (💓✅) word count: 2.5k summary: you and minghao walk home after a party, when you are surprised by the rain. ↳ read here

❁ Drabbles ❁

➝ midnight regrets (💓💧)

❁ The Road That Leads To You ➝ oneshot (💓✅ ) word count: 3.6k summary: double dates are bound to go wrong ↳ read here

➝ seventeen as mafia

➝ seventeen as songs from red (ts)

➝ seventeen as songs from 1989 (ts)

➝ seventeen as songs from lover (ts)

➝ seventeen as songs from folklore (ts)

➝ seventeen as songs from midnights (ts)

➝ seventeen as romcoms

➝ seventeen and perilla leaves

➝ seventeen as brazilian words

[smokescreenimusprime]

watched tf one the other night with my best friend and now I've been Re-Mental Illnessed, here's some Rescue Bot Smokescreen Rot I rotated while driving home :]

I think I've finally hammered out some more details of Inside Job and this is what I came up with:

like canon it starts with the Omega Keys. Specifically when Bulkhead gets attacked and knocked unconscious when looking for one

And against direct orders, Smokescreen leaves the base to go get him

there were a bunch of reasons why he did what he did. A desire to prove his capability as an EMT. He wants to be a field medic like Ratchet is, he wants to be able to do more than just wait for them to come back injured when the more time that passes the more dangerous it could be. There was also the fear of losing anyone else, especially so soon after he befriended Bulkhead. It's barely been a few days since they started getting along, and the loss of the entire Rescue Bot Force is still raw

so he goes, and finds Bulkhead unconscious and alone in the woods, with the only injury being some scratches and a blow to the back of the helm. Smokescreen doesn't have a scratch on him as they hobble back to base

it doesn't stop Ratchet's anger

Now, don't get me wrong, Ratchet is angry because he was scared. Smokescreen could've been in very real danger. He didn't know what awaited him on the other side of that portal. For all they knew, the Decepticon soldiers could've still been there, and they could've lost the last Rescue Bot in existence

but unfortunately, he says all this when still angry

and Smokescreen, as thick as his skin is from experiencing years of discrimination, is genuinely hurt by it. This isn't just a fellow medic or instructor yelling at him, this is his idol berating him for what he thought was the right thing to do

this is his idol unknowingly repeating the words that followed him all throughout his training and that he sought to prove wrong, and he has no idea how to respond

so he runs. He drives as fast and far away as he can, shuts off his comm because he just. Can't right now. He can't interact with them right now because frankly he doesn't trust himself to speak and not say something he would regret to his dying days

and unknowingly this puts him right in the Decepticon's claws

some aspects of his capture stay the same. He wakes up in the medbay strapped to a table, the Omega Key is extracted, and he is placed under the cortical psychic patch

but the differences happen in the details

His restraints are barely more than a pair of manacles that he could've probably figured out how to escape if given enough time. The Omega Key was removed before he even woke up, the incisions of surgery fresh on his frame but the work is well done with obvious care. With the patch, the mental prodding and information gathering is... oddly gentle and quick, doing barely more than verifying what the Keys are and Smokescreen's identity as a Rescue Bot before retreating

Smokescreen is not a warrior after all. He is a bot thought to be long since extinct who quite literally dropped out of the sky at their feet without warning. He may have loyalty to the Autobots but... he's not fighting this war. Not really. He's just been doing what Rescue Bots do: helping those who need it.

The "cell" he's kept in, if it can even be called that, was an old now-dead officer's quarters. The door is locked and there are guards stationed inside watching him at all hours, but they are not cruel. He gets a healthy amount of rations regularly, and has even been given a data terminal to keep himself entertained (of course, no before Soundwave had thoroughly firewalled and restricted anything that could be used against them)

the most stressful part of his capture is when Megatron comes to visit. Every day without fail, he will come check in on how Smokescreen is doing. He will ask how he's doing and they talk. About Cybertron, about the war, about how accepting the Rescue Bots were, allowing any Cybertronian regardless of caste to join, how much of a tragedy it was for them to have been wiped out.

Smokescreen is not blind to how he attempts to sow seeds of doubt into the Autobots into him. About how cruel it was for them to keep him confined to the base, how cruel Trion was for implanting a relic without his knowledge, questions if Smokescreen truly wanted to help them or if that's just what they've pressured him into doing with false promises that crumble like glass

but instead of refuting him... Smokescreen decides to play along

after all, Megatron obviously sees him as a poor, innocent, helpless bot who could be swayed by some sweet words and a cage advertised as protection

and that facade would make it all the easier to escape when the time came :)

[doritochoi]

driving test | C.S

pairing: choi san x fem!reader

genre: smut because is my fav

warnings: strangers, boss x secretary relationship, unprotected sex( kids dont do that irl)

summary: You fucked up with your driving instructor's son and find out that he is your boss and you are his secretary.

A/n: It took me 1 month to write this, but I finally finished it. Let me know what you think. I am waiting for new suggestions in the comments. ✨

banner by @cafekitsune

Today you were supposed to meet with your driving instructor. Usually 12 o'clock was not a problem for you, but this morning you woke up at 11:30. You wanted your license for a long time and you worked really hard. You got ready quickly, and when you left the house you received a message from your instructor that he can't come because he got sick and someone else will come in his place, his son. This day could be worse than it was. You didn't like to meet new people, especially if its someone you didn't know. However, you were curious about this mysterious guy. Maybe he was really nice and maybe it won't be that bad.

You arrived at the place where you were supposed to meet him. You can say that you saw an angel in front of your eyes. This man had such beautiful features that you couldn't even move from there. What If you couldn't focus at all because of him? He was dressed in a slightly transparent shirt, making you look at his well-sculpted body .Those leather pants fit him perfectly and that perfume smelled incredibly good making you feel like your in heaven. His sharp eyes were looking directly into your soul giving you unusual sensations. This man was extremely gorgeous and he wasn't even that close to you. His hair was curly and fluffy, making you want to put your hands through his hair and ruffle it. He was standing in front of you, and all you did was just stare at him.

Mr. Choi often told you that his son was really handsome and good at driving, but you didn't really pay attention to him until now. "Hi, I am Choi San , nice to meet you!",even his voice was so sweet just like him."H-hello! I am Y/n!", you couldn't even form a sentence. You stuttered so badly that he noticed. "You don't have to be shy, I won't eat you." Your voice was already lost. You couldn't say anything anymore, it made you feel really embarrassed. "Let's go, the car is here". You were driving, but something unexpected happens. You never failed. Is it because of this handsome man who was sitting next to you? Ofc it was, well..it wasn't his fault, but he intimidated you so much that you couldn't concentrate at all. "Are you okay? You dont look good.Do you want to stop?" The only thing you were thinking right now, it was how his lips would feel on yours. You were already staring at him too much, until he started to notice. "Dreaming about me, sweetheart?" His voice made you startle and come to reality. You widened your eyes, seeing him tilt his head towards you, looking at you with those lustful eyes. "If you don't answer me, I might kiss you and I don't think you want that." His voice had already changed to a husky one, making you feel dominated by him. His hand slowly went down to your thigh, caressing you there, then going as high as possible. He started to bring his face closer to yours. You thinked he wanted to kiss you, but he just moved closer to your ear whispering some words. "My dad is home right now, if you want i can book a hotel for us." You couldn't say a word. You blinked a few times and looked at him. "I'll take this as a yes."

You got out of the car and he called a taxi to come. You arrived at the hotel. It seemed to be super expensive and not everyone could stay there. But you don't really about that right now, all you care about is that you will definitely have sex with a stranger. A fucking handsome stranger. When you entered in the elevator, San couldn't take his hands off you. He pressed you on the wall and put his hands on your hips, kissing you passionately as if you were his dinner. "Fuck, I want you so bad." ,he said through the kiss, then a sound was heard, knowing that you had reached the floor. The room that he booked was a very large one, with an elevator, making your situation easier. You got out of the elevator, and the first thing San does is to throw you on the bed, laying on top of you. You could feel how excited he was just through his pants so he started to kiss your neck and you moaned with pleasure at his touches." Take it off!" ,he told you this referring to the mini dress that you were wearing ,which was extremely revealing anyway. Seeing your skin makes him even more turned on. You struggled to take off the dress, but because you were too excited at the moment and the fact that you were put in an unusual situation, you got stuck and couldn't do anything. He got angry and tore your dress with his teeth. I don't need to say anything about the panties, because they were already gone is 2 seconds.

Now, you were in front of him. He looks at you like a piece of painting untouched by anyone. One of the most beautiful pieces he ever seen. He started to kiss you so passionately. You have never been touched like this. You could see that he was experienced. His cold hands roamed over your perfect boobs, then he went lower and lower until he felt how wet you were. "Oh, i made you wet, sweety?" , while he puts two fingers in you. He looked at you how you were moaning and screaming his name to do it faster, making him satisfied by the sounds. They were music to his ears. Then he started to lick you, feeling his tongue exploring every part of your dripping pussy. His tongue was moving so well, all you could do was scream his name as loud as you could. When he realized that you were close, he stopped instantly, stealing a good orgasm from you and in 5 seconds you were seeing his huge cock. Your eyes were focused at his pink tip, seeing how much attention he needed. His veiny hands were spreading your legs, rubbing his cock against your cunt, making you to throw back your head on the pillow. You felt so needy that you wanted him inside you, but he kept teasing you and watching you struggle. "San...please...", you beg him to be touched. "Please what?", he looked at you, seeing that he was able to get what he wanted, being proud of himself. You stood up, your face moving closer to his lips, his eyes exploring every feature on your face. "Fuck me", your hand roamed his abdomen, until it reached even lower, touching his member. You didn't even get to put your hand on his dick, because he grabbed your hand and threw you back on the bed.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

You never imagined that you would ever end up sleeping with someone, especially someone you don't know. You stopped thinking because you felt something entering you. The way you moaned, made San push himself even harder into you. One hand was on your boob massaging you, and the other on your pussy, rubbing it with slow movements. "Ah baby, you take me so good", you heard him groan, then a slap was heard that made your ass itch after. "Ready for us to cum?", You nodded, unable to say a word. His cock was hitting that sweet spot deep inside you, that spot only he could reach. "Fuck ," San cooed in your ear as you came. He whispered sweet words, kissing your temple as you began to calm down. He groaned, pumping into you a few more times before filling you with his white seed. He fell next to you, exhausted. You fell asleep so quickly that all you remembered was that he held you in his arms and you both fell asleep.

The sunlight woke you up, feeling a terrible pain between your legs, reminding you of what happened last night. Your cheeks turned pink, seeing that a muscular arm was holding you, not wanting to let you go. You slowly got out of bed, not wanting to wake him up and ruin his precious sleep. After all, he was just as tired as you. But you had to go. Today was your first day at work. You were looking for a job for a long time, and yesterday before this incident happened, you received an email that you were hired. You don't know what was in your mind to do such a thing. Even if you didn't want to leave, you had to. Without leaving a note or a phone number, you hurried, taking the elevator because San had rented a room on the top floor. What a good idea.

Getting into the taxi, you told the driver the address and in 10 minutes you reached your destination. You got out of the car, seeing the biggest building you had ever seen. Of course, rich people worked here. You could see it only by the way they were dressed and by the cars they had. You went inside, and while you were staring at how beautiful that place was. A lady came towards you. "Hello miss! You are new, right?", "Yes! I got hired yesterday.", she took your hand and you headed to the elevator. "Let me guide you to the meeting room.", you were a little surprised not expecting someone to help you on the your first day. You entered that big door, and there were a lot of people, probably looking for a job just like you. Someone opened the door causing the noise in the room to disappear. You turned around, your eyes not knowing what to do at that moment, whether to look or not. It was Choi San. Just when you thought you got rid of him, he just appears in front of you. He was dressed in a suit. The shirt and pants fit perfectly on his body. His hair was different. Everything was different. His glasses fit perfectly, and those fucking lips. You remembered how those lips kissed you all over, making you moan with pleasure. His eyes were looking somewhere, as if they wanted to look for someone. You turned your back pretending to look through the sheets. Feeling how he passes by, you could see him talking with other people. The meeting was over, you were getting ready to pack your things and go to see your office, but a hand appeared and closed the door in front of you. "Not you, Y/n", once you heard him call your name, your heart started beating fast. You turned around and your back felt the wall and a chest appeared in front of you. "Why are you trying to act like nothing happend, Miss Y/n?", he smirked at you putting his hands on your waist, going lower. "Why don't you pretend like nothing happened?", you told him, believing that if you look like you don't care, he will leave you alone. "Nothing? Was it all nothing to you?", you were really surprised. You didn't expect that answer from him, you thought it was just a one-night stand, but in fact he was interested in you. "Why? Are you interested in me?" , "Maybe", he untied his tie in front of you, throwing it on the desk, sitting on the chair looking at you with a look that you couldn't describe. "You can go to your office Miss Y/n, I'll come to you later", you didn't say anything, you just closed the door leaving him alone there in his office sipping his coffee.

While you settled in the office, San was extremely sad and confused. A wave of unknown feelings began to come to make him think about you and about last night. Walking down the hall, passing by his office, you heard that someone was there. The door was a little open so you could peek inside. Your body started to boil, seeing an employee talking to San. She was next to him, slightly bent over so that her cleavage could be seen. As you headed back to your office, A hand pulled you into a dark room and then pinned you to the wall. You were a little scared, but when you felt that wonderful scent of San's perfume, you relaxed. " Huh? Weren't you too busy? What do you want?" , He didn't have to say anything, he came closer to your face and kissed you passionately so that the kiss lasted forever, never forgetting this moment. "W-wait not here". "Then, after we leave come to my house, we have to finish something."

[talkfastromance4]

I have had more thoughts about Sugar and Jake and I was wondering… what would Sugar do/feel like if Jake was deployed? In my mind she sleeps in his bed every night because she misses him, and that’s how he finds her when he comes home. What are your thoughts?

I love this so much I wrote a oneshot for it! Title is inspired by Leon Bridges “coming home”

Wanna hold you close—Jake Seresin (An Arrangement Series)

An Arrangement Masterlist

Follow here for all updates as I do not have a taglist

word count: 3.1k

warnings: pure fluff and more than likely navy inaccuracies but this is ficland and anything goes

Feedback, asks, comments/reblogs mean the world to me!

Enjoy!

It’s been a good day. You were able to get off work early and so did Jake so he came and picked you up then took you to the coffeeshop you both love. Once you got home, it was a little after three and you changed into comfy clothes then settled on the couch to watch a movie. You quickly fell asleep, head in Jake’s lap and his fingers in your hair. 

When you woke up just as the credits were rolling, Jake suggested going to The Lark, the restaurant he invited you to when the arrangement was first brought up. The two of you changed again, you put on a pretty pink dress and Jake wore an olive green ensemble that really brought out his eyes. 

It was a wonderful way to end the day but once dessert arrived, Jake’s brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong? Is your dessert not good?” you ask peering over at his plate. He had ordered a lemon meringue bar drizzled with raspberry and blueberry sauce. Upon your inspection, he hadn’t even taken a bite.

“No,” he shakes his head, twirling his fork in his fingers. “I have to tell you something.”

“Okay,” you feel a weight in your stomach. The spoonful of creme brulee is shaking slightly in the spoon. “Tell me.”

You start thinking he wants to end things, that you aren’t really what he wants and that this whole thing is a big mistake. His eyes are still downcast, a frown on his face as he stares at the prongs of his fork rotate over the red and blue drizzle. 

“I got called for a mission,” he says slowly. 

“Oh…” you exhale the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Well, it’s only a few days right?” you pop the sweet custard into your mouth.

“No, Sugar,” he sighs, setting his fork on his plate. His green eyes finally meet yours, they’re still sad. “It’s longer.”

“How much longer?”

“Forty-five days.”

The weight in your stomach plummets. The longest he’s ever been gone is a week, and you were fine then because you weren’t living with him yet and you were so busy with work and Betty. But now, now that you’ve gotten closer and comfortable and more familiar with each other…now his job really sets in. 

You knew he would be deployed eventually, while he’s a Top Gun instructor, he’s still an active duty pilot. Your throat turns dry and your mind starts to race of any and all possibilities. As if knowing what your mind is doing, Jake’s hand covers yours that’s holding the spoon and works your fingers open. The spoon clatters to the table.

You were gripping the spoon so tight your nails were digging into your palm and Jake peeled your fingers apart so he could trace over the four crescent shapes indented into your palm.

“Sugar, look at me,” he says softly but you can’t find the will to do so. 

“Can we go?”

***

You remain silent in your thoughts on the drive home, Jake’s hand placed in its usual spot on your knee, his thumb stroking circles on your thigh. Once you’re home, you’re the first to get out and Jake follows you all the way to the wine room that’s just off the kitchen. His hands are in his pockets watching you go to the corner that holds your favorite wine.

In the kitchen, you’re struggling with the wine opener but Jake takes it easily from you and opens the wine for you. You lift it up and walk towards the back door, Jake following after he grabs two glasses. You flicked the string of lights on and fell onto the couch, taking a deep drink of the wine. 

“Okay, no glasses,” Jake sighs and sits next to you, watching you. “Okay that’s enough for now, y/n.”

Some wine dribbles down your chin, but Jake is quick to swipe it away with his thumb. 

“Are you mad?” Jake asks, suddenly feeling helpless. He’s never seen you act this way before. 

“No,” you tumble your fingers with his so you’re holding his hand. You trace the circumference of his Navy ring. “When do you leave?”

“Two days.”

Your head snaps up.

“So soon?”

“That’s the Navy, Sugar,” he nods, scooting closer to you on the couch. He cups your cheek.

“What are you…what do you have to do?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why is it so long?”

“Can’t tell you that either,” he smiles sadly and you sigh. 

“Is it dangerous?”

“That’s always a possibility,” he licks his lips as he nods. 

“You’ll come home, right?”

“Trust me, leaving you is the hardest thing ever. I’m already counting down the days and I haven’t even left yet.”

Those words make your eyes sting and you quickly press into him, Jake’s arm wrapping around your back. You have to remind yourself that he’s not leaving you for someone else. He’s leaving for his job and it has nothing to do with you. 

For the next two days, you ask him all the questions you have and he answers as best he can. He reminds you that you can use the credit card he gave you for anything you need and that payments are already set up for Betty. Texting and calling won’t be easy but emails will work best and he promises he’ll respond when he can. 

Jake has no problem saying yes to you except when you ask if you can be there when he leaves and he says no. 

“You don’t want me there?”

“If you’re there, Sugar, I won’t get on the damned plane,” he pulls you into his chest. He kisses the top of your head. “I’d be kicked out for insubordination of not listening to my Commander.”

You’re giggling then but you know he’s telling the truth. You lift your head so your chin is resting on his chest as you gaze up at him. 

“I wouldn’t let you go either,” you admit and he bends down to give you a sweet kiss. 

***

The first day you felt his vacancy immediately, even though you woke up as he came into your room to say goodbye. He was in his service khakis and had a large duffel bag over his shoulder. He whispered your name softly then whispered sweet words and reminders before kissing you so sweetly you had no clue how he was able to pull away. 

“I’ll be coming home to you, Sugar, I promise,” he whispered. 

You held onto his hand as long as you could, watching him back out of your room. He told you to get some more sleep, blew you a kiss, stared at you for ten more seconds before leaving. It wasn’t until you heard the front door shut that you started to cry. 

You researched about Navy Fighter Pilots but only found articles or blogs from retired members that recounted the good ole’ days of their time in the service. They were great reads but not what you needed. You found a blog of wives, girlfriends, and other partners but theirs were mainly about how their children missed the one who was gone and what stores had the best deals.

By day nine you kept glancing at his open doorway in his room. You’ve only been in there once, when he gave you the tour of the house. You were aching to go in there but wanted to respect his privacy. 

You emailed him each day but still had no response back. Some of the articles said no news is good news but you were feeling the opposite. If something happened to him you wouldn’t know because you’re not family. You contemplated reaching out to his sisters, Annie and Nora but you haven’t met them so you thought that’d be weird. 

By day twelve you’re getting antsy from not hearing from Jake and you’re tossing and turning in your bed as wind howls against your windows. You haven’t been sleeping all that well since Jake left and you grab your phone to use the flashlight and you head towards his room. 

You flick on his lights just as lightning flashes beneath the blinds of his windows. His bed is clean and pristine and you see a piece of paper on the nightstand nearest the door. You recognize Jake’s handwriting immediately and begin to read:

In case you get cold and want a fire, the remote for the fireplace is on the coffee table by the couch. Feel free to use it as much as you’d like. See you soon, Sugar. Thinking of your smile as I fly through the skies. X Jake

That makes you smile and you shuffle over to the couch finding the remote exactly where the note indicated. It’s easy enough to figure out. When the fire ignites, you turn it to the medium setting, warmth emitting from it immediately. You grab the large knitted blanket from the couch and plop down, the cushions are comfy as a bed. You watch the flames flicker and dance and then you’re fast asleep.

By day twenty-two you’ve been sleeping on Jake’s couch every night and that’s when you finally get an e-mail from him. He apologizes for taking so long. The internet is pretty spotty on the carrier and it’s hot as hell, he says he’s never not sweating. He said he’s bunking with Rooster and it reminds him of their first years during flight school, Rooster always talks to him at night. 

He doesn’t mind so much now because Rooster asks questions about you and Jake is all too willing to talk about you. He ends the e-mail by reminding you the forty-five days are halfway up and he can’t wait to come home and see you. He also includes a photo of him and the squad on the carrier. It’s a little blurry but he’s in his real flight suit with his aviators on, his hair blowing in the wind. 

You printed it out and placed it against the stack of aviation books on the coffee table so it was the first thing you’d see.

Day thirty-seven had you rethinking your sleeping arrangement. During a very real dream, you rolled onto the floor and smacked your head on the coffee table. You saw several stars before you sat up and decided to move to the bed. You’re not sure which side he slept on so you chose the left side. His cologne and aftershave washed over you, his pillow plush and smelling more like him as you laid down. 

You made sure to put Jake’s picture against the lamp so you could see him.

It was the best sleep you’ve had since he left so you decided to sleep there until he got home. You’d make sure to wash the sheets so he’d be none the wiser. Sometimes, to help you fall asleep, you’d play The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face and you’d dream of him.

Reynolds assured you that Jake is very good at what he does and that he will come home without a hair out of place. You appreciated his assurance but you missed talking with Jake and eating with him in the kitchen or finding him in the pool when you’d come home from work. 

Day forty-five came and went and you were a worried mess. 

What could that mean? Was he hurt? Did they get stuck in bad weather? Do Navy Pilots get layovers?

All the thinking and worrying gave you a migraine so you called in sick and slept  with the fire on. The sheets were cool on your neck and head, the bump from the coffee table pulsated in pain every time you moved. 

***

As soon as the debriefing was done at the hangar, Jake bolted out of there so fast to his truck. His windshield wipers were on the highest setting as he raced home to you. He was irritated he had to stay for an extra three days because that was an extra three days away from you. 

Because he was still on duty, he couldn’t call or text or e-mail you until they were back at the main hangar. He’d thought of you everyday and kept a photo of you tucked away in his pocket and cockpit when he was flying. He took it while you were out for brunch and you found a small patch of flowers. You knelt down to pick them and Jake took his phone out so he could capture the moment.

He called your name and when you looked up, he snapped a photo. Embarrassed, you held up your hand laughing as he tried to get a clear shot of your face. It was his favorite photo. He gazed at it when he woke up, tuning out Rooster’s monotone snores.

When he was flying and things got dicey in the sky, he’d look at your smiling face and find it within him to persevere and give the enemy pilots hell. You filled him with adrenaline and a purpose so when three extra days went by he was antsy. 

He wanted to call you and let you know that he’s on his way home–on his way to you–but the numbers on his truck’s screen reminded him it was too late. You’re probably sleeping and he didn’t want to wake you in a panic, even though he was sure you’ve been panicking the last seventy-two hours. 

When he finally pulled into the garage and ran inside without his duffel bag. He took the stairs two at a time then noticed your door was open. Usually you sleep with it closed so that concerns him. He was even more concerned when he didn’t find you in your bed. 

Panicking, he ran downstairs but didn’t find you in the living room so he ran back upstairs. His door was opened wider than he usually keeps it so he went to investigate. Seeing you curled up in his sheets and comforter hit him with such want and a deep rooted care for you that he had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. 

The fire was on and old re-runs of Friends was on his tv. He approaches you quietly, kneeling on his side of the bed (you were hugging his pillow tightly) when he notices the picture he sent you leaning against the lamp. That filled him with more glee. 

“Sugar,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers on your forehead and into your hair. “Hey…Sugar.”

You groan and shift, mumbling his name. 

“Sugar, I’m home,” he says a little louder, fingers still in your hair. 

“Am I dreamin’?” you mumble again into his pillow. 

“No, baby, I’m right here. Open your eyes,” he chuckles and your eyes flash open. 

“Jake!” you launch yourself at him and he has to brace himself so he doesn’t fall back on his knees. You breathe in his hair, his shampoo is different but you smell his aftershave, a little bit of sweat and his cologne and you feel comforted.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Sugar,” he kisses your shoulder. “Had a little difficulty getting home.”

“I was so worried, I didn’t know if I should contact someone or who I would even–”

“I made sure you’d be notified, but you don’t have to worry about that now. I’m home.”

“You’re home,” you repeat weakly. You fall back into his bed, pulling Jake with you. He hovers over you, one arm squashed beneath your back and the other caressing your face.

“And you’re in my bed,” he smiles.

“I–I couldn’t sleep. I found your note and I was sleeping on your couch with the fire on but then I fell and hit my head on the table so I tried your bed and it smells like you and is so comfy but you’re home now so I’ll leave–”

He silences you with a kiss that turns from sweet to passionate in seconds. You move further back to the center of the bed, yanking Jake with you. You hear his shoes fall to the floor, lips still connected as he lays over you. 

“Don’t want you to leave,” he mumbles on your lips. “Stay here with me.”

“Okay,” you whisper tugging his comforter over him. His body heat fills your space quickly, the weight of him on top of you feels so nice. He gives you another deep kiss, the arm moving from beneath your back to your waist. 

“Is this my Navy shirt?” he asks staring down at the shirt you’re wearing. 

“Um..yeah. I saw it folded on your bathroom sink when I used the bathroom one night and I like when you wear it so I…borrowed it. Is that okay?”

“Seeing you in my bed and in my shirt…it’s more than okay, Sugar,” he grins. “Better than I’d dreamed it would be. How long have you been sleeping in here?”

“Since you e-mailed me the first time…” you admit sheepishly. You’re tracing your finger over the chain of his dog tags that spilled out of his shirt when he clambered onto his bed. “If that’s weird–”

He’s kissing you again, this time rolling over so you’re laying on his chest. His hands are gripping your waist as you adjust yourself over him, his fingers tickling you in the process and you’re giggling. 

“What?” he asks, adjusting his head on his pillow.

“You’re interrupting me a lot,” you laugh. 

“I’d apologize but I wouldn’t mean it. I missed you so much, Sugar. Finding  you in my bed and my shirt is the best homecoming I’ve ever had.”

You bite your lip, his sweet words heat up your cheeks. Being in this position gives you the opportunity to touch his face, he has a bit of a beard on his cheeks. A little sunburn on his nose and forehead. 

“Do you want to watch a movie or have a midnight snack?”

“No, just wanna hold you close.”

You’re half draped over him, his arm holding you against him and your hands joined on his stomach. You’re playing with each other’s fingers, staring at each other in the dim glow of his fireplace. When your eyes start to get heavy you blink them open quickly to stay awake. 

“Go to sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promises with a kiss to your head. 

“Welcome home, Jake,” you whisper then close your eyes. 

You’re safe and warm tucked against him, the sound of his heart lulling you to sleep, his thumb rubbing your hand and the soft hum of him singing your song sends you off into dreamland.

[zenonaa]

idk if anyone has noticed the number of tofu fics (or fics in general) that i write/post has gone down in the past few years, but i want to kind of talk about that. i love togafuka. i love writing. my love for them has not diminished.

in early 2022, my mother was hospitalised and soon diagnosed with cancer. she came to live with me for the next 5-6 months during her chemo treatment and such. as well as helping look after her (and seeing her ups and downs) i was working a full-time job and looking after my younger brother a lot who is autistic and epileptic (the latter was diagnosed this year). my father worked and helped how he could, my sister helped my mum a lot but my sister and younger brother were in their early twenties at the time so i felt like a lot of the responsibility fell on me.

i appreciate the time i spent with my mother in that time, i would not change that, but it was very traumatic for me. my relationship with her wasn't always the best growing up, and i think she had mental issues that she refused to get help for that caused a lot of it (and i was a troubled kid too, well-behaved but depressed/socially anxious. also prob have autism). everyday i would see my mother get stronger, or weaker. i remember one night, my brother woke up crying (mum was in my bed, i was downstairs on a sofa bed and bro was on a beanbag bed) saying he was scared she'd never get better. i had to comfort him and support him a lot, all the while trying to be optimistic and keep myself together.

she was meant to have surgery to try to remove the cancer in october 2022, but it was cancelled due to her thyroid. in early december 2022, she went to have fluids drained and i went too. a nurse told her in front of me how they wouldn't resuscitate her which wasn't... great. anyway, she had to be moved to the hospital because she wasn't draining, and a bit before christmas, she told us that she was terminal. on my last visit to her (23rd), i forced myself not to cry and as i left, i said i loved her and i'd see her on xmas.

on xmas day, she passed away. the hospital had lost our phone number, so we found out when a friend who had been with her phoned us. can't describe how surreal that day was. she was supposed to come home after the hospital stay. she told me to make her bed at home. we were going to visit her on xmas. she was going to have chemo again in january. who's going to eat all her favourite foods in my fridge? what do i do with this walking stick? her clothes? her medications? how could i have saved her? why didn't i realise she was sick and get her checked out earlier? why couldn't i have been a better daughter? why must the radio sing christmas songs about this being the most wonderful time of the year, why must people get excited for this one day when my mother died? then i had to help with the funeral, choosing her flowers, choosing what she was going to wear when she was cremated. she won't see me get married (assuming i do) or her first grandchild. it's... a lot to process.

i've had other life events happen after this. i broke up with my ex after 7 years. i was ousted from my job and got a new one. i've resumed driving lessons, even managed to get the same instructor my mother found me 10 years ago when i first tried driving and stopped. so yeah. busy.

also i have been working on a novel. my mother when she was still alive was my biggest fan, she would sit with me and we'd go through editing together. my novel has changed a lot since she was alive, as my writing has improved etc. i've recently been considering self-publishing it. which is daunting because i have the charisma of a potato but i believe in this novel and most importantly my mother believed in it, even in its early stages. but that costs money - i should be getting a pay rise from work soon, but i might open writing commissions again to help fund this as it's not cheap lmao.

soooo my fic writing has gone down because i'm usually exhausted, busy with work and irl stuff, and still recovering mentally from life events. i still need to write my last tofu week fic, which will either be a mastermind au or little sequel story to elusive/mermaid au.

i don't really talk about my personal life here, but even if no one reads this, it was therapeutic to write at least haha.

[blackbloodedisabel]

WOKENESS gone MAD: LIBERAL driving instructor always telling me to GO FASTER and PUT MY FOOT DOWN HATES when I SPEED

[threeletterslife]

33 | Legends of Darlaria

⨰ summary: You wake up in yet another unfamiliar place. This time, however, these strangers seem to recognize you. With your previous judgments and aspirations thrown out the window, you're now forced to face where your loyalties really lie. Who will you betray? And which General will you choose to stand by his side?

⨰ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader & jungkook x reader | PG-15

⨰ genre: 70% angst, 30% fluff | war!au & magic!au

⨰ warnings: profanity, depictions of violence

⨰ wordcount: 6.9k

⨰ join the taglist! (pm/send in an ask/reply/reblog)

⨰ previous | series m.list | next

⧖⧗Many, Many Circas Ago⧗⧖

That night, Instructor Shin came to you in your dreams—quite vividly too, for your dream worlds have always been picturesque.

She was staring at you with her sharp eyes, but her gaze was strangely gentle. It felt so real—especially as she held her black pointer bedazzled with her emerald birthstone, which twinkled in white light. May you one day change Darlae for the better, she whispered, her ruby-red lips moving just enough to enunciate her words.

You tossed and turned in your sleep.

She smiled at you—it was one of her rare smiles that brought slight wrinkles upon her face, but it made her look incredibly kind. And may you one day still remember me, your strict, old, incompetent instructor, who nearly stopped you from achieving greatness in the Darlaean Army.

When you woke up at the break of dawn, there were dried tear streaks on your face and a new fire burning inside of you. You’d forgotten your dream for a moment—amongst all of the fuss with the rankings and the training and the duels. Your life had picked up its pace and while living in survival mode, you’d simply unremembered what made you join the Darlaean Army in the first place. But Instructor Shin’s words reignited what you lost.

She believed in you and so did Hajin, her father, and even General Son, who was willing to give you a second chance. So how could you so easily give up on your dream? How silly of you to simply let go of all the efforts you’ve put into your training! General Son was right; there was no place for cowardliness in his army. Heroes got nowhere from fear!

But perhaps you could compromise. Sometimes, fear drove people to do great things; you couldn’t exactly think of any examples, but maybe you could be the first instance. Maybe you could leverage your fears—your fear of hurting others, your fear of getting hurt yourself, your fear of dying unaccomplished, your fear of losing the life you’d built for yourself in the 12th city—to drive yourself to stay in General Son’s army.

You gritted your teeth. You had exactly three days to pull yourself together and rise from the deep end, so you decided to put yourself through hell to prepare.

The only problem was, fear was a damn hard thing to shake off.

“Okay, okay, that was good, Y/N,” Hajin said, nodding her head as you masked a flower petal into a pebble and threw it hard at the wooden dummy before you. “But it was a pebble, Y/N. No one in their right damn mind would surrender to a tiny piece of rock.” She hummed, circling around you in the small practice arena. “It was an improvement, though.” She sighed. “Try to think bigger. Think, what is a showstopper?”

You nervously tugged at your necklace. The dirt arena was littered with harmless objects that were standard when it came to these duels. Cadets were expected to use alchemy to create non-lethal weapons to force their opponents to surrender. But to you, the term non-lethal truly meant something that couldn’t harm anyone. “I’m sorry,” you sighed, wiping the sweat off your brow. “It’s just… if I turned that pebble any bigger… I mean, what if I accidentally give my opponent a concussion?”

Hajin snorted. “It happens. They shouldn’t take it personally. And if they do, it’s on them. You’re dueling! Something like that is expected to happen! Look, I gave someone a black eye last week, but they healed it in several days! So don’t worry too much about hurting someone.”

You bit your lip. It was much easier said than done. You wished with all your heart that you could stop giving a shit about hurting your opponent, but there was always a degree of unpredictability in these duels—you never knew what arbitrary objects would be placed in the arena and you never knew who your opponent was until the duel began. What if something happened and you seriously injured them? What if something happened and you were seriously injured? It was such a selfish thought to have, and you hated yourself for it.

The truth was, there were soldiers out there, sacrificing their lives for Darlae and here you were, unable to participate properly in a small duel. On the battlefield, no arbitrary objects were littered on the ground for Darlaean soldiers’ ease of use. On the battlefield, Darlaean soldiers survived on pure instinct and adrenaline—at least that was what was rumored amongst your squadron, for no cadet truly knew what a soldier went through when they marched to battle. On the battlefield, it was kill or be killed.

But this wasn’t the battlefield, thank Guseul, it was a damn little arena. You weren’t expected to kill anyone, and now that you thought about it, your primary goal technically wasn’t to injure. In fact, your real goal was to make your opponent surrender.

“Look,” Hajin said, breaking you out of your thoughts, “you need to win this damn duel because I’m not letting my best friend leave me. So, you’re going to take this very, very seriously, all right? It’s just like when you taught me alchemy, Y/N. You told me to stay true to myself when I cast my whims. You let me continue to use light magic; you honed my strengths. You made me embrace them. So do the same!” She grinned. “What kind of alchemy are you best at? What can you use to make your opponent surrender? Surely, masking some rose petal into a pebble isn’t the best you’ve got. You’ve ranked first amongst 100 cadets before! You have it in you, Y/N!”

Hajin’s words of encouragement made you feel a little better. 

“You’re the masking master!” Hajin cheered you on. “You can mask everything into anything!!!”

That wasn’t exactly true as of yet, but you were trying to get there anyway.

You smiled, a new idea suddenly materializing in your head. “Thanks, Hajin. You’re the best.”

She grinned. “Now get to work, cadet! Time’s ticking!”

The sunlight was too bright. The dirt was too loose. And there were one too many spectators. You could feel their gazes, boring into your back, and in that moment, you felt so small, so tiny, so insignificant. Your hands were shaking, and you hoped no one was observant enough to notice.

“YOU CAN DO IT, Y/N!” Hajin yelled from the crowd. You couldn’t find the energy to smile, but her words did ease off a little bit of the tension. Still, your heart felt like it was in your guts, and you could barely see past arm’s length.

You clutched your trinket, trying to feel the magic course through your veins and calm your nerves. While taking deep breaths, you carefully surveyed the objects scattered around in today’s arena. There were cotton balls, a few towels, a roll of gauze, an apricot seed, a mug from the dining hall, and what looked to be someone’s lost sock to name a few. You looked away from these objects, not even bothering to study them at all.

Instead, you looked ahead to study your opponent, who was all the way on the other side of the arena. Unlike you, she didn’t seem too nervous at all, which made sense since rumor had caught on that you automatically surrendered every duel you were put into. For a second, you felt a little guilty that that wouldn’t be the case today—that was, if you were able to pull off what you spent countless hours practicing. Your opponent—Eunhae was her name—began studying the objects on the ground, which made you sweat just a little more. She was ranked fairly high—somewhere amongst the top 20 cadets—so you knew she wouldn’t surrender so easily. You could practically see her already calculating what to shift and what to mask.

Nervously, you looked to the stands, glancing momentarily at General Son. He rarely came to these duels—his officers were the ones who usually supervised them—but he was undoubtedly here for you today. Even worse, the man was staring straight at you, your eyes making contact with his sharp ones. You jumped a little and looked away. 

For a split second, you wondered if this was all a good idea.

But there was no time to second guess yourself. 

A vivid purple streak shot up in the bright noon sky, courtesy of one of the judging officers.

The duel had officially begun.

Your ears began to ring. 

Eunhae charged at you, her long, brown hair flying behind her. She had her teeth gritted, her fists clenched. 

But everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. 

You watched as Eunhae laggardly crouched down, carefully picked up the mug from the dining hall, then gradually size-shifted it, where it became the size of her head. Your eyes widened slowly as she sluggishly heaved the giant mug at you with all of her might.

Your breath hitched.

Then all at once, everything was moving too fast.

Every bone, muscle, nerve in your body screamed at you to surrender, to make it stop, to feel that sweet sense of relief and comfort that you were going to be safe. Instead, somehow, somewhere, something in you made you jerk away, and just in the nick of time, you managed to dodge the attack as the mug crashed into the arena’s walls behind you. 

There was an ear-splitting crack!

You felt like you were going to throw up.

Eunhae picked up one of the gauzes. 

You were stumbling away, attempting to avoid being cornered, but your feet felt so heavy; were you imagining it, or were your black leather boots sinking into the dirt? When you looked up from your daze, you saw an arrow—where the spearhead was the harmless white gauze—spiraling straight at you. 

You frowned.

Eunhae cursed under her breath.

Failed masking happened rather often during duels when the stress levels were high. You let the gauze-arrow hit you on the arm, trying not to expend energy unnecessarily. While trembling, you rubbed the impact area with your hand, not because it hurt, but as if to calm your nerves. It wasn’t exactly working.

Somehow, you were already panting. The breathing echoed in your ears in slow, loud huffs. A single drop of sweat rolled down your face, over the hill of your cheeks and down the slope of your chin.

It felt like you were running out of time.

Any minute now, after she recovered from the shock of her failed masking, Eunhae was bound to attack again. You knew you wouldn’t be able to keep up—stamina wasn’t your greatest strength, but it was definitely hers.

Your trembling hand reached up to clench the pendant of your necklace.

Immediately, just a tiny bit of courage flooded back into you.

Right. 

The plan. 

The plan that you weren’t so sure was allowed.

But you didn’t exactly have many options now that you were already here.

Focus, now…

Deep breaths in, deep breaths out…

And soon, the world fell silent, save for the loud beating of your heart.

The only thing in your vision now was Eunhae, running towards you in slow motion once more. Her face was contorted, and there was sweat beading on her forehead. She was already holding a new object—ready to attack you with it—but that didn’t matter to you at the moment. She was so close to you now that you could see the splash of freckles across her nose. Her lips were parted, and her dark eyes seemed to see no one but you.

But more importantly, she wore the standard cadet uniform—the black, stiff cotton material, the silver and purple stitchings, the shiny leather boots. It was identical to yours and that of the 70 other cadets left in the program. It was the uniform you saw every day, the uniform you hand-washed, the uniform you folded, ironed, and donned each morning. You spent more time in your uniform than not; thus, you knew every stitch, every crease, every stretch of the fabric like it was on the back of your hand. You could recreate the uniform from memory if you wanted to—even with brand-new material: velvet, corduroy, wool… It wouldn’t be so challenging, considering how well-versed you were in designing apparel.

Perhaps you could even recreate it with more untraditional fabrics like chenille, taffeta, or brocade.

Or what about with outrageous material like rubber? Wood? Perhaps stone? 

Yes, stone—that was perfect! You could practically feel the cool, hard sleeves, the stiff body of the uniform, the heavy boots… The smoothness, the dark gray color, the sheer heaviness… Yes, that charcoal color would suit Eunhae quite nicely—possibly bringing out her freckles. Gone would be the cotton and the silver purple stitchings, and gone would be the leather on the boots, too. Everything would be stone.

Dense, immovable stone.

Somewhere along your vivid train of thought, you must’ve closed your eyes—it happened often when you were attempting to mask something big. There was that familiar migraine seeping in, too. When your eyes finally fluttered open, relieving yourself from the darkness, you came nearly face to face with Eunhae. Her eyebrows were deeply furrowed, and her teeth were gritted in concentration. Her forehead was now wet with perspiration. And her eyes, they were screaming with what looked like anger.

You let out a tiny squeak, your whole body tensing up as you squeezed your eyes shut again—too afraid to face your impending doom. You waited for the blow to come, to feel some sort of pain in your side, but when nothing happened after several seconds, you slowly opened one eye, then the other.

Less than an arm’s length away from you, Eunhae was wobbling from side to side, on the verge of losing her balance. She grunted, her face completely red as she struggled with the new weight of her uniform. The sweat from her forehead began rolling down her face.

Your lips parted in shock.

“Y-You!” Eunhae stuttered, trying to move forward, but when that proved to be futile, she tried another tactic. With all of her might, and with a mighty scream, she swung her arm at you. You flinched on instinct, but her arm fell limp before ever reaching you from being encompassed in a stone sleeve. Eunhae was struggling to keep her arm up—she was trembling from head to toe—and she was successful for perhaps half a minute before her whole body collapsed onto the ground.

With a loud groan, she heaved her body forward, straining her muscles in an attempt to move, but she could barely keep her head lifted from the ground. Her face was growing near purple now as her stone uniform kept her pinned to the ground. Sweat continued to roll off of her body, streaking the gray stone with a darker charcoal color. 

You watched her struggle, which felt so incredibly wrong, but there was nothing else you could do. You would lose everything if you lost—you had to make sure you walked away victorious. So you stood your ground before the poor girl, staring down, shaking in your uniform boots.

Sweat rolled down your neck, disappearing underneath your cotton uniform. The masking had to hold until Eunhae surrendered. It was all you needed to win. You couldn’t bear looking her in the eyes, so you closed your own, your fists clenched at your sides.

“You can’t keep me like this forever!” Eunhae shouted, but she sounded desperate. 

For a second, you feared that she would somehow be able to unmask her uniform material back into cotton, but the logical part of you countered that with a simple fact: Eunhae was an expert at size-shifting, not so much masking. But, if she just so happened to be angry enough to unleash powerful light magic, that would also be a different story.

Nervously, you cracked open one eye, wondering if this was even enough to stop a cadet like Eunhae. There was unbridled rage in her eyes as she lay on the ground, unable to move. But the longer you stared at her, the look gradually morphed into one of capitulation.

Finally, Eunhae let out a long, labored sigh. “I’ll give you this one, then.” She was completely limp. “You win. I surrender. Now get me out of this thing!”

You collapsed to the ground in shock, and it was your loss of concentration—not quite exactly her request—that unmasked Eunhae’s uniform. As the stone eroded away and the familiar cotton material faded into existence, you stared at the dirt, unblinking. Grumbling, Eunhae sat up, stretching her limbs and brushing herself off while looking quite disdained at her loss.

There was an eerie silence.

Normally, there would be clapping by now.

Now you were shaking, though you didn’t know why, and suddenly, it felt like you were the one donning the stone uniform. You could hear your breathing echoing in your head, and your legs refused to listen to you anymore. It was as if all of the energy in your body had been zapped away.

Were you allowed to do this? Was masking your opponent’s uniform on the grounds for disqualification? Is that why everybody was so silent?

But then, you heard a joyous cry from the audience.

“YOU DID IT, Y/N, YOU WON!”

It was Hajin—bless her—and in no time, others followed the princess’ lead. Your victory was welcomed with a roar of applause. The world began spinning. You were still shaking, but when you turned slightly to the side, you saw General Son, standing up with the rest of the audience, clapping for you. He wasn’t smiling, because he never smiled, but he was nodding in approval, and that was all you needed for all of your worries to wash away.

You were safe.

You could stay here.

Who knew that the Fashion Studies class you took years ago would be so useful in the army? From your first victorious duel, you learned that you didn’t have to resort to violence if you didn’t want to. There were definitely officers who didn’t approve of that notion, but they couldn’t do anything about it since General Son never found it wrong, though he did later admit it was unorthodox. 

Still, he confirmed that you were no longer on probation, and with the momentum of your first victory, you went on to win a majority of the rest of your duels. As a year flew past, your ranking gradually, gradually increased until one day, your name was next to that shiny, silver number 1 once more. But you never really gave two shits about the rankings. In your mind, this was all for a bigger cause—the cause of one day changing Darlae for the better. The change that Instructor Shin believed you could make.

But you did have to admit, though a bit begrudgingly, that it always felt good when your opponent would take one look at you from across the arena and surrender right away. You didn’t let those instances get to your head, though; you worked hard, just like everybody else. If it just so happened that your masking skills were more advanced and your hexes were mostly successful, then that was that. There was no need to make a big deal out of it. But Hajin always liked to, anyways.

She was your biggest supporter, attending every one of your duels and cheering you on the whole time. As more circas passed, she grew into her light magic, and though she still occasionally cast an unpredictable whim, she was a much stronger alchemist than before. Her father was proud of her as any father would be, but he was just as proud of you, who he practically took under his wing as his second daughter.

And then there was General Son. He was always watching you with those sharp eyes of his, not saying much in both words and expression. But you knew he had a lot of thoughts—whether they were good thoughts or bad thoughts, you were never too sure. Still, he seemed satisfied with your performance in his army, and you liked to imagine that he looked mildly pleased every time you saluted him when he walked past.

Just like that, your life as a cadet in the Darlaean Army became routine once more, with the occasional ups and downs, but nothing life-changing. And before you knew it, you were already 17.

Hajin slumped over her bed in a deep pout. “I can’t believe he’s making us wait another two years, Y/N. Two! I swear on Guseul’s heart that I’m going to die waiting for the day we can finally go to battle!”

“Your father’s just trying to protect you,” you said, patting Hajin’s shoulder. “You’re his only daughter. Also his last living family member.” 

Hajin let out a loud sigh. “Everyone else in our cohort has already been moved to the 1st city!” She groaned, hiding her face in her silk pillowcase. “We’ll be the oldest ones in the new cohort! It’s going to be so embarrassing!” She suddenly sat up, turning to face you. “This isn’t fair! We were ranked in the top ten!”

“I know, I know,” you said, patting Hajin’s back. “It sucks, but I mean, we’ll be able to explore the tunnels for two more years, isn’t that the good part? Why do you want to go to battle so much, anyways?” You didn’t mean to sound so exasperated when you asked the latter question because you knew full well what Hajin was going to say. But before you could open your mouth to apologize, Hajin was already speaking.

“I just need to avenge my mother’s death!” she announced valiantly as predicted. She sighed, looking out the window, where the dim moonlight filtered in. “That’s all I want. I just need to be out there and fight the same bastards who killed her.” Her voice grew quiet, which happened quite rarely and only when she was dead serious, which was also a rarity. “You didn’t have to stay with me, you know, stuck in this damn training program. You finished first in our cohort; you should’ve graduated and marched on to the 1st city.”

The truth was, Hoseok had invited you to another private chat in which he’d given you a few options. One of them was, of course, graduating from the training program for adolescents and moving on to becoming a true soldier who would march to battle. But the other choice, the one that Hoseok wanted you to choose, was to stay in the 12th city with his daughter before he finally deemed her ready to leave the royal nest. 

“She still casts unpredictable whims from time to time,” was his biggest worry. “She must be absolutely formidable before I let her on that battlefield.” You knew it would break Hajin’s heart if she found out her father withheld her from graduating due to her erratic alchemy skills—when those who were far worse than she had already graduated—so you never mentioned it to her. The plan, if you stayed, would be to help train Hajin’s light magic skills until her alchemy was sound, and that would all be under the guise of her father’s protectiveness over his only daughter, which was also true. 

“But I don’t want to hold you back either, my dear. I don’t want to withhold such a promising soldier from my nation; General Son tells me he sees the future in you. But ultimately, my dear, the choice is yours.”

And you’d chosen to stay. Mostly because the prospect of going to battle terrified you, though you never admitted that to anyone—not even Hajin. It was too humiliating. But another part of you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Hajin, of leaving her father, of leaving the secret tunnels, too. It would be like entering a new chapter of your life, which wasn’t always the worst thing that could happen. But you simply didn’t feel ready. What good was an unprepared hero, anyway?

You sighed, staring outside at the moon along with Hajin. “Well, I wasn’t going to leave you here. And besides,” you said, a small smile forming on your lips, “we can eat all the deviled eggs we want for two more years. Isn’t that paradise?”

Hajin didn’t laugh at your joke; she was too lost in her thoughts, which was something that you usually did and not the other way around. Then, she spoke in a quiet murmur: “Y/N, why do you want to fight in the war?”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, I mean, um… it’s…” You sighed, not having expected Hajin to ask such a question. “It’s going to sound silly.”

Hajin finally turned to you, and it looked like she was finally back to her old self because she was grinning madly. “Try me,” she snorted. “How silly can it really be?”

“Well…” You hesitated. “Okay, fine. Ever since I was little, I’ve always wanted to be some sort of hero. I guess I just read too many fairytales, but that’s beside the point. I want to accomplish something big, you know? Make a difference. I dunno. How cool would it be if I could contribute even just a little bit to Darlae’s freedom from the war?” You tugged on your necklace. “It’s stupid, I know. Your reason is much cooler—”

“No way!” Hajin’s eyes widened. “Your reason is so… mature. It’s high level, you know? Above seeking vengeance and all that crap. Oh, Y/N,” she laughed. “You could definitely do it. You’ve already made a difference in my life! I just know you’re going to do something great. Oh, I know! You’ll become an officer—I don’t need to be a divinist to know that!” 

You laughed along with her. “Aw, thanks, Hajin. I wouldn’t say it’s a mature reason—I mean, I’m 17 and I’m still dreaming of heroes. But thanks. Really. That was kind of you to say.” You nudged her playfully. “You’re more officer material than I am. You’ve got the energy and charisma. You’re a people magnet!”

Hajin beamed. “You really think so?” She plopped back down on her bed, rolling her eyes. “Tell that to my father, will you? Then maybe he’ll let us go to war.”

You laughed, plopping down on the bed right next to your best friend. “I don’t think he’ll budge.”

“Bummer,” Hajin sighed. “Whatever.” Then, she turned to her side, grinning at you mischievously. “Wanna have a late-night deviled egg party?”

You would be crazy to resist.

Even though you and Hajin weren’t technically allowed in the 1st city as both of you were still cadets in the training program, that never stopped the two of you from simply using the secret tunnels to infiltrate the 1st city’s sewers. But all there was to see in the 1st city was soldiers training. Though you found it fascinating, Hajin found it boring.

“What’s so fun about watching a bunch of soldiers train?” Hajin sighed. “We see that in the training grounds all the time.”

“No, but they train so differently,” you answered, your voice tinged with excitement. “Look! They don’t do the stupid duels at all. They’re focusing on masking scraps of junk into weapons! See how that soldier just masked that blade of grass into a dagger? See how it pierced through the wooden block without unmasking itself? Amazing,” you breathed. “That’s not easy to do.”

“I’d rather watch a duel. They’re more exciting,” Hajin snorted. “Come on, let’s get back to the 12th city before anyone finds out we left.”

“W-Wait!” you said, eyes widening. “Look! We can’t miss this—they’re practicing formations! See how impenetrable it looks? It’s a formation meant for defense! And see how perfectly identical every soldier’s stance is? That must take hours and hours of practice!”

Hajin just laughed. “Only you could be so excited by army formations,” she teased.

But it wasn’t just you.

General Son also had a penchant for formations, which he made obvious to you after he caught you and Hajin snooping around the 1st city. He wasn’t angry, only stern, but when he found out that you had been drawing out his army’s formations and studying them on your own, he invited you to his study in the 12th city to “discuss”—though what about, you weren’t quite sure. But the invitation, of course, only came after you and Hajin ran a couple of laps around the training grounds for breaking regulations—it was only a formality.

The discussion ended up being hours long and was more like a lecture than anything else. The General asked you to explain what you had gleaned from snooping around the 1st city and observing the different formations, and though you were nervous, you were able to explain each one and the purpose you believed it had. He had no discernible expression on his face when you finished, but you must’ve done something right because he began to spread out a few of his own battle plans, which were a work in progress.

“See this, cadet?” he asked, running his fingers through the five obvious sectors drawn into the paper in black ink. “This is the battlefield. Memorize it by next time,” he said. “A good soldier must know the terrain she fights on.” 

The mention of a next time filled you full of excitement, and you spent the following several days thinking about nothing but the battlefield. You woke up in the morning and stared at the copy of it that the General had given you. During your training—which was now too easy for you—you tried to draw it from memory in your mind. And at night, you dreamed of it—the five sectors, the soil, the hard dirt, and the soldiers charging through it.

General Son didn’t show much of a reaction when you completely redrew the battlefield from memory during your next “discussion.” But the more time you spent under his guidance, you realized that he had particular ways of showing his praise. When he deemed you ready, he simply moved on to the next thing he wanted you to learn. He pushed you harder than any other person in your life—nearly rivaling your own spirit—always sending you back from his study with a stack of books to read for the next discussion, along with formations to review and comment on. You spent your days training—though you always finished early—and your nights studying battle plans and formations.

Hajin found it tedious.

“You look like you’re having fun,” she snorted, staring at you hunched over, studying your books in the moonlight streaming through her large window. She shuddered. “On second thought, I don’t think I could ever become an officer. I can’t handle the logistics! I would never want to spend my free time studying battle plans and doing extra reading. But you’re fit for the job, Y/N. I think General Son thinks so too.”

You didn’t want to believe that at first. It seemed impossible to you that the General of the Darlaean Army could ever see someone like you as an officer. You weren’t even sure if you could handle it! What kind of officer was afraid of going to battle? What good was knowing the battlefield like the back of your hand if you were too afraid to fight? 

Despite your doubts, the General believed in you—at least it seemed like he did. He began granting you special access to the 1st city to observe the soldiers’ training. He also invited Hajin as a formality, for she was also a well-respected cadet yet to graduate from the training program, but she declined. “I’d rather give up a week’s worth of deviled eggs than go sit and watch soldiers train for what feels like an eternity!” she told you quite vehemently.

So, by yourself, you diligently traveled to the 1st city once a week to study the applications of the formations you’ve read about and to learn about the different charms that the soldiers used. Most of these charms were cast as whims because in a battle, where anger and passion drenched the air, light magic became much more powerful. It was still difficult for you to get rid of that scholarly instinct of using dark magic, and since the General never commented on your tendency for casting hexes, you continued to use the magic that brought comfort to you.

Sometimes, you wondered what the General saw in you to privately teach you the ways of battle planning. You often wondered if you deserved the treatment. Hajin was aware of your self-doubting tendencies, and she was always kind enough to point out that you were, indeed, a talented cadet, and you have been, for circas now, ranked first on the board—that the newer cadets feared dueling with you because you never lost. 

But you weren’t as charismatic as the majors, captains, sergeants and privates you observed in the 1st city. And you sure as hell would never be as charismatic as the General. There was something about him that elicited fear and respect. He never had to raise his voice; just one look from him and he could have even the strongest soldiers cowering. He was brutal out on the battlefield, you’ve heard. Perhaps actions spoke louder than words.

Of course you knew not to compare yourself to the damn General of the Darlaean Army, but self-doubt was in your nature. Still, your fear of disappointing the General was somehow greater than your self-doubting tendencies. You continued to make an effort in your private discussions and visited the 1st city with a fiery passion in your eyes, ready to commit everything you saw into memory. 

And slowly, as you began to catch up to his expectations, General Son became just slightly amiable. He no longer watched you with his sharp, discerning eyes, and he gave you short, laconic compliments when you deserved them. You had the feeling that he was warming up to you. Perhaps he wasn’t sure if he could trust you before, especially with the stunt you pulled when you had refused to participate in duels.

He asked you quite often about Hajin and her progress with her light magic, which you suspected Hoseok put him up to. It was no secret that General Son and Hoseok were quite close. You’ve heard them call each other by their first names, which was shocking considering one was the king and the other was the general of the nation. You don’t think you’ve ever heard anybody else refer to General Son as Taegi except Hoseok.

Though General Son didn’t exactly show you the same kind of warmth that Hoseok did, he showed you generosity and patience. The discussions no longer felt like lectures; they were truly discussions—an exchange of ideas and feedback. Sometimes, General Son invited over a few of his majors to participate, which made you incredibly nervous, but every time self-doubt sank in, you reminded yourself of Instructor Shin’s words: may you one day change Darlae for the better. You were going to do it—someday in the future. This was simply your journey of mentorship and preparation.

It became increasingly clear that General Son trusted your opinions, and you naturally trusted him, for he commanded the entire army with a steady hand. Gradually, things fell into a routine again. You still had your moments of diffidence, of course, but that was part of the routine, too. And soon, before you knew it, seasons passed until the leaves of the trees reddened and the weather became chillier.

You would never forget this particular day in Circa Opal. The day that altered the routine of your life.

You were walking back to the castle from a long discussion with General Son. In your uniform pocket was the smaller, size-shifted stack of books he’d assigned you to read and the shrunken scrolls he wanted you to annotate. The air was brisk and the sun was setting, which were all the more reasons for you to quicken your pace as you promised to meet Hajin for another one of your secret tunnel exploring rounds, which had become rare with your busy schedule. The plan was to explore Hajin’s favorite: the 6th city. She was undoubtedly already waiting for you, wearing her purple pantaloons that you’d gifted her two years ago—her “exploring pants” as she called them. You could just imagine her pacing around her room impatiently, wondering “Where the hell is she???”

You smiled to yourself, practically running now to get to the castle faster. The red leaves made a satisfying crunch underneath your feet as you sprinted. But in your haste, you bumped into someone nearby and the force of the collision caused both of you to fall to the ground. 

You felt a dull impact on your behind and winced, but you’ve been through worse during training. Luckily, your miniature textbook and scrolls didn’t fall out of your pocket, which was a better outcome than what you would’ve hoped. But the stranger—the boy—whom you’d bumped into wasn’t so fortunate. He’d been carrying a large bag of what seemed to be filled with all sorts of equipment, which dropped to the ground from the impact and landed with a raucous crash! At the same time, a twinkling blue stone slipped from his pocket and landed on top of a few fallen leaves on the grass.

“O-Oh! I’m so, so sorry,” you said, quickly scrambling to pick up the sapphire from the ground and wiping it clean from the dried leaf debris. “I wasn’t looking where I was going! Here, you dropped your birthst—” 

Your breath hitched as your eyes met his. The rest of your words became lost in your throat.

He was beautiful.

As the two of you slowly stood up together, you couldn’t help but notice his big, doe eyes, perfect nose, gently tousled hair, delicate, pinkish lips… The warm glow of the setting sun backlit his face, softening his features, and the mild autumn breeze mussed his raven-colored hair, where strands of it fell over his dark brown eyes.

Time slowed down as he reached out to take his birthstone from you. And when his hands brushed yours, there was a shy spark that ignited in your chest. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him in shock. 

His own tender eyes met yours, and he blinked slowly, his lashes long enough to kiss his face. It was as if you were in a trance. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. His voice was quiet, silvery, perfect as you would expect from someone like him.

Your lips parted as you readied yourself to respond, but no words fell from your lips.

Who was he? Why haven’t you seen him before?

He surely wasn’t a soldier, for he wasn’t wearing the uniform, which meant he most likely worked for the royal family or perhaps even for the army. He looked too kind to be a soldier, anyway. 

A soft splash of rosy pink emerged on his cheeks as the two of you continued to peer into each other’s eyes. His hands began fidgeting with his birthstone. “You…” he said, face brightening in recognition. “You…” he whispered again, eyes softening.

Did he know you?

You surely didn’t know him; you would’ve remembered if you did.

“You…?” you barely managed to get out when the boy suddenly picked up the bag he dropped from the ground and began stepping backwards, though slowly.

You wanted to tell him to wait, to at least ask for his name, but how could you? He was already walking away from you. Maybe something about this encounter terrified him. It was rather odd. He was a complete stranger, but he strangely felt like comfort. There was this foreign tug on your heartstrings—a fleeting feeling that maybe you will get to know him in the near future. Did he feel this too? Was that why he left? 

You couldn’t help but watch him walk away, your head tilting as you stared at his back. It was stupid to think such a short encounter could blossom into something more. But…

No. Nothing was going to happen. This fate-like encounter was nothing more than a figment of your imagination—perhaps it was acting up after all of those tales of romance you read when you were young. Perhaps the boy left because there was nothing to stay for. With a sigh, you turned around and began walking away, towards the grand castle and to Hajin, who was undoubtedly waiting for your arrival.

But unbeknownst to you, soon after you turned around, the boy stopped in his footsteps to watch you leave. He had a bright look in his eyes, a look of mostly curiosity, really, but there was another thing. A look of longing. It was gone in a second, however, when he finally blinked. Then, he began walking away too, as if the encounter had never happened at all in the early days of Circa Opal.

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⨰ a/n: sorry for the short delay! had to attempt to proofread :') but hehe we finally get to meet jk!!!

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[epic-potato-crisp]

The Monday Incident

A very belated Secret Santa Gift for @kaseytransboi-blog (hope this is your Tumblr!)- so belated it is from 2022. So incredibly sorry about that! 🙈 I wanted you to still receive this gift, even if it means arriving in time for Ajin Secret Santa 2023. You wanted "Generally Wholesome" so It's a little One Shot featuring the Ajin Cast in the Brooklyn 99 universe - I hope you will (still) enjoy! <3

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LINK:

The Monday Incident - epic_potato_crisp - 亜人 - 三浦追儺 & 桜井画門 | Ajin - Miura Tsuina & Sakurai Gamon (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

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Detective Nagai had a terrible day. A day that had started with a diffuse ache in his abdomen and his heart palpitating at a mile an hour when he woke up an hour before his alarm from a nightmare he could not remember.

Seeing as it was pointless to go back to sleep, he cursed himself and the entire squad out, a plethora of creative insults he would, most likely, never voice out loud.  Then he went to brew a cup of coffee. He would have loved to say it immediately jolted him out of his stupor and into an active, motivated, pre-case solving state, but of course it didn’t. Rest assured, he was mercifully saved the one benefit of caffeine that he was betting on. The only change he experienced was a familiar burn in his throat, his reflux’s friendly way of reminding him that it was planning on becoming a permanent resident.

What a bother. Kei had always hated the concept of roommates.

He didn’t own a car, neither did he drive- not, as some might assume, because of not passing the ridiculously simple theoretical exam (He had, with a stellar score of 110% , the bonus resulting from giving himself extra credit for a formatting and spelling error he noticed). No, he simply chose not to, because frankly, the idea of riding into oncoming traffic on four shaky wheels with nothing but steel-aluminium walls that dented at the lightest scratch and a sorry excuse for an airbag keeping him from certain death, did not seem very appealing.

(And perhaps also, because the look his driving instructor had given him after his most recent attempt at the practical exam had etched himself in his soul forever. Sure, Kei might have avoided the head-on collision with the HAYAKAWA CIGARETTES truck, but the terror in the man’s eyes and the scathing indictment that followed made him wonder if actually getting mowed over by 4 tons of vehicle would have been the better alternative.) Ah well, now he would never know.

Thankfully, there were other people in his squad. Some compensated for their mediocre cognitive ability with a surprisingly solid physical skill set. One example was Nakano Kou, the overly-energetic detective who had declared himself Kei’s best friend two weeks after the latter had joined. It had been an unanimous decision Kei had interestingly never been consulted on. But he could live with that, he supposed.  Nakano could be incredibly annoying, but he did give Kei rides to work, which was appreciated.Especially , on a day as frosty as this one, where Kei would have rather stabbed himself than get up an hour earlier to spend his precious pre-work time scratching ice off car windows. Nakano, thankfully, seemed to have no such problem.

He was even punctual when he pulled up to Kei’s apartment that morning, dressed in his signature yellow parka.

“Good morning!“ he cheered loudly, turning down the Black Eyed Peas‘ “I GOT A FEELIN“ that was blaring in the background at Kei’s raised eyebrow. Orange strands as unkempt as ever, one hand on the steering wheel, he held out a cup emblazoned with yet another caffeine franchise that people with lack of a spine might pledge addiction to.

 “Kei”, the cup read.

He grinned as Kei got into the car, strapping on his seatbelt: “You gotta call shotgun, Nagai.”

“I’m not saying that every single time.” Kei sighed, “And I don’t want coffee.”

“That’s hot chocolate.”

Kei narrowed his eyes: “Without caffeine?”

“Yes, yes! Without!” Nakano said, lifting his left hand in an idiotic gesture of sincerity.

“Careful.” Kei snapped, not wanting his idiotic attempts at being genuine to endanger them in the morning traffic.

“Dude, chill, I’m still parking.” Nakano said, conveniently ignoring how Kei had told him to never call him dude  under any circumstances in their first week working together. He revved the engine to life and then, placing a hand on the back firmly of Kei’s headrest and turning to look behind himself, maneuvered them backwards and then out of their parking spot. The close proximity of his teammate’s fingers to his neck and the self-assured, almost cocky way with which his colleague steered them back into traffic did nothing for him, Kei reminded himself, gripping tightly around the cardboard wrapper. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and chased away a flicker of regret when Nakano’s hand dropped from its place on the headrest, fingers curling back around the steering wheel.

“You know, a “thank you, how was your weekend” wouldn’t kill you.” his colleague said, side-eying the stiff way he stiffly occupied the passenger seat.

“Just drive.” Kei grumbled, managing to avoid the eye-contact he was afraid would sell him out.

“Screw yourself, seriously.” Nakano said, fondness tinged with annoyance, as he shifted into third gear. Thus started their morning bickering- the only way, Kei realized, to properly wake him up.

They managed to get to work a good fifteen minutes before their morning meeting at 8 am. Which was good, because arriving any later than the designated time would be a surefire way to draw the wrath of their captain.

“Good morning, Sarge!” Nakano cheerfully greeted Sergeant Hirasawa, who was already sat at his desk, two yoghurt cups stacked in front of him.

“Good morning, detective Nakano.” Hirasawa replied. Age was not lost on the seargant, who combed back his hair in an effort to mask the balding patch, tucking his glasses behind his ears.  Calloused hands spoke of many years in the service, but in the seargeant’s case, he had followed an unconventional career path, having spent his years before training in the Academy as a bodyguard of sorts. “Well, hired gun is more like it.” the Sarge had shared during one evening during a post-working gathering a pub. Manabe, one of the four guys that had been employed about the same time as the Seargeant and who seemed to have known him for even longer, chuckled dryly at that.  Kei hadn’t bothered asking what the vague job description meant, he could put two and two together. Unlike Nakano, who had stared at Hirasawa with a quizzical look. Before the words “What’s a hired gun” could leave his mouth, Kei had grabbed him by the back of his parka and dragged him to the bar.

“The next rounds of drinks are on you.” he said sullenly, as his colleague complained loudly about the rough treatment. There must have been something in Kei’s eyes however, as Nakano dropped the topic pretty much immediately. When he came back carrying an armful of beers, their table cheered,  detective Suzumura and detective Kuroki slapping him on the back appreciatively. Nakano preened under the attention and was engrossed in a lively conversation within minutes.

Kei nipped at his rum-filled beverage, grimacing at the bitter taste and cursing out the bartender for clearly misjudging his soda to alcohol ratio preference. But just as he was about to call it an early night, Sergeant Hirasawa slid on the stool next to him. “So, I’ve heard some impressive things about you, Detective Nagai.”

“Which would be?” Kei asked, skeptically. The Sergeant laughed at his open mistrust. Well, someone tells me you are planning to become a captain of a squad yourself someday. Your stellar scores graduating from the Academy and your track record of solved cases also speak for themselves.”

Kei did his best to not feel too flattered under the praise. “That is, if I make it that far. I’ll have to pass the Sergeant’s exam first.. It would be a fool’s error to rest simply because of previous success I had.” He took a sip, and forced himself not to avoid the Sergeant’s gaze, which seemed downright friendly and empathic. Sometimes, he had to remind himself not everyone he ever worked with had ill-intent.  But then again, he had to keep an eye open for the possibility.

“I still have a long road ahead of me.” He concluded a conversation that he felt was becoming too personal for a work acquaintance.

“Spoken as a true contender for the position of Captain would.” Seargeant Hirasawa said, and Kei attempted not to startle too much when he amicably slapped his back, and in a tone, that sounded too genuine to be false said,  “I’m rooting for you, Detective Nagai.”

Well, at least, someone was rooting for him. Kei felt as though he was not having the same luck with the new Captain that had been assigned to their district.

Captain Tosaki Yuu  was not one for humor, or slacking, or any other form entertainment that would have made the arduous work days in the precinct more bearable. Kei would have been fine with that. Instead, it was Detective Nakano’s morale that took a major hit when their new commanding officer introduced himself and how he planned to run the precinct. However, it took him only a few weeks to win even the sour-faced captain over in that strangely charming way of his. This didn’t necessarily mean that Detective Nakano didn’t still make a fool of himself- he did- or that the Captain had never yelled at him for his tardiness or unserious attitude – he had – but it did meant that even tall,  pale, consistently stressed Captain Tosaki begrudgingly accepted the cheerful detective as vital member of his squad.

Which caused Kei even more of a headache because he himself wasn’t having any of that luck.

He had tried every strategy from mute respect to blank sincerity to disinterest to word-by-word conduct of corporate advancement guidelines but he kept clashing with the Captain more often than he had probably should. Conflict with superiors was not a favorable strategy, that was what he’d learned in the Academy. Sometimes, he laid awake at night, ruminating on the possibility that it could be a death sentence for his career that had not even properly begun. It was simply that he, Detective Nagai, had his own way of doing things which had served him well over years in service, and was only the slightest bit aggrieved at the fact of being presented with a new Captain that seemed to micromanage his every move.

If he was available to speak with at all.

As Nakano settled into his desk, finishing his coffee and chatting with the Seargeant, Kei flicked his eyes over to the Captain’s office. At the desk right in front sat Naomi, his personal secretary, who spent 1/3 of her time relegating calls, another third being mean and the final third playing Flappy Bird on her phone.

“Sorry, Captain’s not available right now.” she warbled into the speaker, examining her sapphire acrylics with genuine interest, just as Captain Tosaki came into view behind her.

“Who’s that?” the Captain asked sharply, flanked as usual by his right-hand Sergeant Shimomura, who stood stoically next to him.

To Naomi’s credit, she was used to his unannounced entrances and didn’t as much as startle, left alone appear guilty being caught blatantly avoiding her job.

She swiveled around in her desk chair, blowing maroon strands out of her eyes, perfectly manicured fingers held over the mouthpiece.

“Oh, just Ogura from Forensics.” she said, batting her eyelashes and dragging out the “a” with an annoyed sigh, “I told him I don’t get paid to deal with this before 9 am. Do you want him to call you back later?”

“That is exactly what you are getting paid to do.” Tosaki said monotonously, “But yes.” He grimaced, “Let him call back later.”

The fact that there was no love lost between the Captain and the leading physician of the Forensics Department, who liked hassle him at every turn, was not a secret for the crew. Naomi smirked, delighted at having her expectations met and withdrew her fingers from the mouthpiece, “He’s busy right now.” she faux-sweetly announced, “Try again during our office hours.” She slammed the phone down before Ogura’s distant voice on the other hand could as much as bring forward another jab.

Now that the matter was dealt with, Captain Tosaki moved onto the next target to air his morning frustration out on.

“Detective Nakano, Detective Nagai.” he barked.

“Sir, Yes Sir!” Nakano immediately jumped to attention, almost spilling his drink in the process.

Kei rolled his eyes.

“What is it, Captain?” he asked, feigning politeness.

“What are you standing there for?” Tosaki said, irritatedly, “Get settled in the meeting room. I’d like to start on time for once.”

Nakano cheerily shouted his affirmation, as the Captain strode off. Sergeant Shimomura remained behind, noting something on her clipboard.

“Good morning, Detective Nagai. Detective Nakano.” she greeted them properly, obsidian eyes calmly meeting their gaze.

“Good morning, Seargeant!” Nakano exclaimed, grinning back at her, not even attempting to hide his delight as having received her full attention, “How was your weekend? Did you do something fun?”

This was a one-sided love affair at best, Kei was certain, but that didn’t stop Nakano from being hopelessly infatuated with the Sergeant the moment he had stepped foot into the precinct. It’s good that he himself never had to deal with this type of ridiculous experiences, he thought, quenching the faintest annoyance that bubbled within him whenever he realized Nakano did have a habit of being very flirt-friendly with a lot of his female colleagues. Shimomura faintly returned his smile.

“It was fairly uneventful.” she said, in that reserved, cryptical way of hers, “I hope yours was enjoyable, as well.” The open-ended question was a rookie mistake.

As Nakano launched into an overly-detailed recitation of his weekend which included a paintball tournament and a barbecue (where on earth did he take the energy, Kei could not imagine), he observed the Seargeant more closely.

Fairly uneventful could mean anything when it came to Sergeant Shimomura. The last time she had used that description, she had single-handedly led a drug bust that had carried on into the early hours of Sunday morning. She was only few years older than Kei. He was also fairly certain they’d both trained at the same academy, although he had no proof of that. Upon joining their precinct, Tosaki had immediately recruited her as his second-in-command, which came to no surprise. Shimomura was not only loyal to the core, but also greatly skilled both in detective work and martial combat. She also did not seem fazed by the fact that she often got mistaken as Tosaki’s secretary. Whenever that happened, the Captain made sure to correct the mistake immediately, referring to her as his “highly talented Sergeant” and, and redirecting whoever misspoke to see Naomi if they wanted to speak with his “highly talented secretary.” (It was a blessing that he always made a show of loudly announcing these corrections, so Naomi at least had a few seconds to save her level on Wintry Workshop and pull up an Excel Table on her computer so as not to undermine his statement.)

Apart from this, he had not a single clue about the Seargeant’s backstory, interests or even exact whereabouts. Which was fairly unusual for a  department as…sociable as theirs. This was the most polite way Kei had of putting it.

“I know exactly three things about you.” Kei had pointed out one evening, as stacks of paperwork were dragging them long past the end of their shift, “And one of them is that you don’t let anyone know where you live.”

“That is already one thing more than you were supposed to know, Detective Nagai.” the Seargeant had said, the corners of her lips tilting up ever so slightly, “Not even my relatives have the information.”

He had left it at that. He had once seen her body-slam the leader of human trafficking ring that towered two heads above her after the man had attempted to pull a gun on her. It really wasn’t worth the risk.

“So in conclusion.”  Detective Nakano said, gesturing towards the projector, “I’m really certain this is the man we’re looking for. Here he is, on his way of committing crime.”

With a dramatical flourish, he moved onto the next slide of his presentation.

The grainy photo, taken from a security camera inside the Forge headquarters, showed an elderly gentleman wearing a baseball cap and a knit cardigan. His eyes were unfocused, almost closed, giving the impression of him having just woken up from a nap.

Kuroki and Manabe erupted in laughter.

“No way.” Kuroki said.

“He’s on his way alright, but to the next retirement home.” Manabe scoffed.

Kuroki cackled at that and held out his hand for a fist bump, which Manabe returned.

“Alright, let’s give Detective Nakano a chance to present his case.” Seargeant Hirasawa spoke up patiently, ever the mediator, “Detective, what proof do you have?”

“Oh, uh- proof.” Detective Nakano said, scratching his head, “Well…”

Kei looked over at the Captain, who was observing Nakano from his seat at the front of the  meeting room with a stony expression. Never a good sign.

“Well, the evidence speaks for itself, doesn’t it?” Nakano said, shrugging helplessly, “He’s in this footage, he was on the previous footage…I’m sure if I contact the Cyber Crimes division they could retrace the IT address that the perps used to hack into the Forge database, and that would probably lead back to—”

“We do not operate on the basis of probably, Detective.”  The icy tone in the Captain’s voice made even Nakano cringe.

Tosaki got to his feet. He swiftly moved towards Nakano, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Zoom in, Detective.” He ordered. And Nakano did.

Kuroki whistled at the sight. ““Man, let’s hope he meakes it to the retirement home at all.”  he said.

As much as it pained Kei to admit it, he was right. Upon closer inspection, the suspect appeared even older, properly geriatric. Fragile. If Nakano had meet him outside of work, he would have likely asked if he needed assistance crossing the streets. And then helped him cross said street. Nakano was friendly like that.

“Are you telling me.” Tosaki said, each word laced with scathing disbelief, “That this is the man you believe to be behind the string of seven flawlessly executed robberies, most recently at the Forge headquarters, a company that prides itself on their bulletproof security system?”

“I’m not sure he even knows what Windows is.” someone muttered in the background. Probably Kuroki. Kei shot an unnerved look in his direction. If someone was to harangue Nakano for his mediocre presentation abilities, it was to be him.

“He could- could have allies!” Nakano defended himself, now gesturing wildly, “Like, most of them big time dudes do.”

The big times dudes, right. Whenever Kei doubted his own capabilities as a detective – which happened more frequently than he would like to admit – it was moments as this one that reassured him that perhaps a future command wasn’t this far out of reach, if this was the competition he was to contend with.

“He has a caretaker, at most, that- “

“Enough.” the Captain snapped. He massaged his temples.

He turned towards his right-hand, the only other detective’s – except, in some instances, Hirasawa’s- opinion he regularly took into consideration. “Sergeant Shimomura, what do you think?”

The room grew quiet, as everyone’s attention focused on the Seargeant sitting in the second row. Nakano seemed to be holding his breath. Shimomura was silent for several moments. When she then spoke, there was the faintest trace of sympathy in her otherwise emotionless tone.

“As much as I appreciate your case work so far, Detective, I believe you at this point that you are lacking the necessary evidence to make an accusation, let alone an arrest.”

She concluded by clicking her pen shut. Upon this judgement, Nakano visibly deflated. Shimomura had likely been his last and most important pillar of hope.

Tosaki nodded. “I agree.”

“Listen, guys.” Nakano called out, a tinge of desperation creeping into his voice, “You know I have a really good intuition.”

That he had, Kei had to admit. Despite his own record of solved cases, Nakano wasn’t lagging too far behind. Or at all. There had been one too many times where they had made a competition, with a humiliating punishment for that month’s loser in terms of numbers. Though even those didn’t seem to faze him. He had worn the pink, glitter-adorned “Boss Babe ” shirt with pride to the precinct the day after Nagai had bested him one glorious August evening. Kei would have called sick before he sat one foot through the doors in this get-up. He imagined his little sister calling him a misogynist and scowled at the idea.

“And it is because of said intuition”- wow, what a big word for you, Detective, Kei thought drlyly, “That I am so very certain.”  Nakano continued, his voice becoming more steadfast and louder in his determination, “This is the culprit!” He pointed back towards the screen, the image woefully undermining the earthshattering point he was trying to make, “this is the guy we have been chasing for months, who has been making our lives hell since he robbed that gaming store a year ago.”

“That’s a hell of a nice deal on those retro consoles.” Ogura had whistled through his teeth when Kei had shown him the recipes of the robbery after the doctor’s persistent badgering, “Wish I had a Pacman game at home.”

“So, if you believe me, I can say that it’s him with like” Nakano frowned, running the numbers in his head: “85% certainty! That’s how certain I am!”

Kei was about to throw in his own comment on the situation when the Captain shut down the projector, much to Nakano’s gasping dismay and feeble protests.

“85% are not enough, Detective.” he said coldly and turned towards the room

, “Meeting dismissed.”

Kei tried to spend the rest of the day in a productive state, in an effort to be able to go home at the designated time that was almost never kept. Nakano, who had not quite bounced back from their morning meeting, unintentionally made every effort to thwart this plan.

“I just don’t get why my case work wasn’t enough.” he whined, for the second time that afternoon, head placed on Kei’s desk, where the later was filing, or rather, attempting to file a report.

“And I don’t get why you continue to ignore my work space, but here we are.” Kei said monotonously.

“Come on, dude, we’re basically desk mates.” Nakano argued, which was a very convenient stretching of the truth.

The fact that he had to roll past four other desks on his way to Kei’s – courtesy of Tosaki, who had placed them apart in his first week in order to improve work flow - was no deterrent for Detective Nakano. He enjoyed making the way into a race of sorts, often timing how long it took him to get from one desk to the other. His record of five seconds was still unbeaten.

“I pulled so much overtime for this, it’s like the Captain didn’t even properly read my report-“

Kei saved his document, and sighed, deciding to spare a few seconds of his valuable time for his colleague.

“I’m certain he did. It’s just not that simple.” He said, “Seargeant Shimomura has been on the same track for months. If she’s finding it to be a challenge, why did you think it would be an easy solve for you?”

This seemed to resonate with Nakano. “Well.” he said, appearing thoughtful of suddenly, “Guess you have a point. Still sucks, though.”

Kei hummed affirmatively, leaving his colleague alone with his own thoughts, which was thankfully a peaceful situation. He chanced a glance at the large office clock. If he kept working at his previous speed, and if Seargeant Hirasawa didn’t magically appear with another apartment break-in for him to process, then perhaps- today he would actually be able to leave-

“Detective Nakano, Detective Nagai.” Captain Tosaki barked from his office door, “A word. Now.”

Kei did not even attempt to suppress his groan.

“Well, suppose we should go, right?” Nakano said, squaring his shoulders and throwing him a questioning sort of look to which Kei could only respond in kind. No, he too had no idea what could possibly be going on.

“Oopsie.” Naomi said, a grimacing-type of smile clear with Schadenfreude, as they walked past her desk, “The Captain is still in kind of a bad mood. The fact that Doc Ogura just called back a few seconds ago didn’t help with that at all.”

Kei saw that she at least had the decency to pause her Candy Crush game for that short, albeit pointless conversation.

“Great.” he replied sarcastically, “Thank you for the info.”

“No worries.” Naomi chirped, “Let me know if there’s anything going on, yeah? The office has been so quiet these past few days.” She leant forward and lowered the register of her voice: “I could use some juicy info.”

“We’ll see what we can do, Miss Naomi!” Kou called out enthusiastically, as Kei, unnerved, dragged him to Captain’s office.

Captain Tosaki wasn’t alone. Sergeant Shimomura stood on his right side, giving them the hint of a smile as they entered.

“Close the door properly and pull down the blinds.” Captain Tosaki instructed promptly “I have a matter of great importance to discuss with both of you.”

Kei had not expected this turn of events. He took a moment to recollect himself, while Nakano already jumped into action with an enthusiastic “Yes, Sir!” and carried out the tasks.

“Sit down.” the Sergeant said, gesturing to the seats in front of the desk.

They both did. Anticipation had Kei sliding to the edge of his chair, toes poised on the carpeted floor. Nakano seemed equally as nervous, but in stark contrast, as far as Kei could tell, carried himself with less with dread, even with a hint of excitement.

“So.” Tosaki said, after a few beats of uncomfortable silence, “I have called you here to inform you that I – or, rather, we both-“ he glanced at the Sergeant, “Would like to revise our statement on Detective Nakano’s casework.”

Something lurched in Kei’s chest.

“Revise?” Kou said, in a puzzled tone, because of course he did.

“Retract.” Sergeant Shimomura interjected, “We have reviewed your work and believe that you are on the right path, Detective.”

“All evidence considered, we believe you have identified the correct culprit. Responsible for the burglaries of several stores, the Forge headquarters and beyond.”  Tosaki continued with a sigh, “Your intuition, unfortunately, was correct.”

Kei could see the wheels turning in Nakano’s head.

“Heck yeah!” his colleague shouted, pumping his fist in elation, which earned him an insistent Shush from his unamused superiors.

“Sorry.” Nakano .said sheepishly, scratching his head. “I’m just glad I got it right. It’s good when your work pays off.”

The Captain sighed again.

“Why unfortunately?” Kei spoke up, raising an eyebrow at the odd turn of phrasing, “How is a progress in a case not beneficial?”

The Captain and the Sergeant exchanged another one of their trademark looks.

“Well.” Sergeant Shimomura said, hesitating, “The matter appears to be larger than we originally anticipated.”

“That being a rather euphemistic understatement.” Tosaki said, producing a file from his drawers and slapping it down in front of them, “Our culprit, Samuel T. Owen, is not only responsible for the string of robberies.”  

CLASSIFIED, red letters read.

“We also believe him to be the leader of an anarchist uprising with ties to the black market, specifically organ trafficking.”

Fuck, was the first thought to enter Kei’s mind, More overtime. He was exhausted as it was. He ignored the sliver of interest he felt at the promise of a case far more thrilling than he had ever worked one, even dreamed of working when he chose his career path. Nakano, on the other hand,  made an odd, high-pitched noise next to him, which Kei correctly identified as a suppressed whimper of excitement.

“Heck yeah.” his colleague whispered in awe, fist clenched,  beaming like Christmas had come early.

“So we have asked you here to promote you to primary investigators on this case that must be carried out with utmost-“ Tosaki paused, eyeing Nakano scrutinizingly, “disrection. No- one is to be informed the nature of this investigation, or any new developments, apart from Sergeant Shimomura and myself. At least, for the foreseeable future. Understood?”

“Yes Sir!” the Detective replied, an excited almost-yell that made the Sergeant shush him again.

The Captain massaged his forehead. “You both, including you, Detective Nagai.”

“Yes, Sir.” Kei responded, dully.

“I hope you do not disappoint us with your work on the SATO case.” The Captain concluded.

“Sato?” Nakano asked, frowning.

“It’s the acronym we have chosen.” Sergeant Shimomura explained, “Samuel T. Owen is the name of our suspected culprit. Or in other words-“ she paused for effect,  “SATO.”

Even if Kei had had more time to prepare, he would not have been able to quell Nakano’s shout of excitement this time. It would have been hard too, with excitement and anticipation thrumming in his own veins.

“Heck yeah!”

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Rest in Peace Andre Braugher (01.07.1962- 11.12.2023) - your incredible portrayal of Captain Raymond Holt will be missed. You will always be the Captain of our Hearts!

[freeophelia]

woke up in a bad mood & it took every bit of willpower i had to refrain from telling my driving instructor to fuck off during our lesson this morning

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

So Bethy is back with us again now that school is over, and she's going crazy with nothing to do, so she keeps leaving to go on walks or whatever, and she wanted to go to Dollar Tree to get stuff for food for the next few days. We have a whole $30 left in the PayPal and mom gave her a small list that would get us enough food for 3 days if we're careful, and just as she was about to checkout(she had mom on-call) Dave demands ice cream.

And now he's being passive-aggressive acting like he's oppressed or something cuz I called out the fact that we have no money just to waste on ice cream. Cuz 1.) he won't be sharing that with the rest of us, and 2.) he's been lying to the food bank for weeks to get extra snacks that he hoards for himself.

Dave has dozens of bags of chips, choco chip granola bars, mini rice krispy treats, and chocolate donuts he stole from all our food bank bags. He rifles through the bags in the van before he distributes them to everyone. He has several Walmart bags beside the chair he sits in, that are just filled with junk that he then hides under a blanket.

He does not need more junk, nor does he need ice cream. Chips, donuts, and rice krispies ain't enough?

1.) the majority of the PayPal money comes from my Ko-Fi. I have a say in what it is spent on as a result. 2.) he was the one who claimed, "I need $20 for gas to keep it above half!" and then went behind our backs and used $70 instead. The reason we have so little left rn is because of him specifically, especially when he admits that he was going to put in $90 but decided to stick to $70. So, since he decided that he had to fill the tank all the way, he doesn't get ice cream. Too bad. Regular food is more important.

But he's acting like some oppressed maiden now.

EDIT: I made this post on June 11th but left it in my drafts because I wasn't going to post it, however it is now June 12th and I have more to add.

So, Bethy's school has driving instructors and the teens have to take and pass the class or they can't go and get their permits. Her teacher, a dumbass who can't do basic math apparently, mis-scheduled several kids so they all have to come to school, despite school being over now, to take the rest of their classes. And these are one-on-one courses that take hours of driving to locations hours away from the school. The kids aren't getting fed despite how they had to arrive at school time and won't leave until after noon.

Bethy has to do this June 12-14 and then has nowhere to go as she waits around because there is no arranged transportation either.

This morning, Dave was complaining about having to drive her to school personally, which pissed her off since he acts like being a parent is unfair.

Remember I said he was lying to the food bank to get more food? He was saying Bethy was with us this entire time and that's why he needed more, for a growing teen girl. So, she's back with us now... and his ass didn't give her the share meant for her. He didn't just steal all the snacks added to the baggies, he literally kept the extra dinner that was meant for Bethy, for himself. And yeah, it was a small turkey sandwich but it's more than nothing!

So today, as he has to get up early and go to work, he gets up at 5 AM and is gone by 6 AM. He put together a large bag for himself full of leftovers from yesterday(pasta and a sandwich), 3 bags of chips, several granola bars, rice krispy treats, water, slim jims, and some kind of cake thing.

And he couldn't spare one damn thing for his child. To make it worse... he has cash on hand and didn't think to give her any despite knowing she wouldn't be having breakfast or lunch. He woke her up a few minutes before they had to leave, so she did not get to eat or even prepare leftover pasta for herself.

She arrived at school at 6:30 AM and they wouldn't let her in, so she had to sit there until 8 AM. THEN, she had to do the whole driving course thing, which last 3 hours for her, and then wait for her partner who finished. Dave picked her up around 1 PM, and then forced her to sit in his boss' truck for 5 hours and didn't think to get her any food or give her his own food.

So they go to the food bank before coming back, and Bethy is exhausted and hungry and hot, but she wants to go and see if she can apply for a job at a nearby pizza place since she worked at their other location last year. Dave hands her $20 and tells her to go to Dollar Tree and get him Pepsi and ice cream while giving me a nasty look.

...I'm such an unfair person, huh? How dare I think to preserve what little money we have?

Anyway, I've gone around pulling everything we have together and it mostly is canned mixed veggies, off-brand unsweetened apple sauce, and what I have left in terms of granola bars.

But you know, we should be spending money on ice cream and soda instead of meals.

[squeeze-lemons-in-my-eyes]

Just woke up from a dream where I straight up forgot to take my instructor and a car to my driving test

There's a stress I didn't know I needed