#if you were? then go ahead and want it a different way.

[cup1drul3z]

★ — It was a bad idea

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1 : ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜᴘ

ʙꜱꜰꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ!ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | 8.1ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

TAGS : hatefucking, sexual objectification of lesbianism, height difference, porn with plot, dub con, drunk sex, messy, angst, A LOT OF SMUT, strap-on, fingering, oral

A/N : hopeless lesbians

Summary : You and Sevika, Your bestfriends sister. fall into a messy, secret fling that was never supposed to happen. What starts as a one-time mistake quickly spirals into something neither of you can control. Now you're both pretending not to care—while wanting each other more than ever.

PROLOGUE NOVEMBER 

The house was dark and too quiet. Somewhere upstairs, your best friend was snoring like she always did—mouth open, dead to the world. You’d tossed and turned for hours before finally giving up, slipping out from the guest bed and creeping down the stairs in nothing but your oversized tank top and cotton sleep shorts.

You just wanted a glass of water. Maybe some cereal. Something to kill time until your brain shut up and let you rest.

You didn’t expect her to be in the kitchen.

Sevika.

Standing in front of the open fridge in the dim glow of the appliance light, like some kind of fucking vision. Barefoot. Shirtless. Her broad back curved as she leaned forward, sweatpants slung low on her hips—dangerously low—and a black sports bra clinging tight across her chest. One hand on the fridge door, the other lifting the milk carton straight to her mouth.

You froze in the doorway.

She didn’t look at you at first. Just tipped the carton back, throat working as she drank, her scars catching silver-blue in the dim light. You saw the flex in her jaw, the lazy tilt of her head. Saw the moment she noticed you and still—still didn’t stop drinking.

Her eyes dragged over you when she finally lowered the carton.

“You lost or just thirsty?” she asked, voice low and dry with sleep. Her lips were wet.

You scoffed and crossed your arms, ignoring the way your tank top rode up a little higher when you did. “I could ask you the same thing. What, they don’t sell cups in this house?”

“Didn’t realize the guest was gonna police my drinking habits.” She leaned back against the counter, milk carton dangling from two fingers, and smirked like she was already ten steps ahead of you. “Didn’t realize you were gonna show up dressed like that, either.”

You looked down—thin fabric, no bra, bare legs.

“Didn’t realize you were gonna ogle your little sister’s best friend.”

That smirk twitched. “Please. You’ve been dying for me to look since you were sixteen.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Sevika rolled her eyes and stepped closer. “Don’t act surprised. You used to blush every time I looked at you. Couldn’t even say my name without stuttering.”

You laughed once, sharp. “Yeah, maybe back when I was a dumb little kid. But not now.”

“No?” She was right in front of you now. Big, barefoot, heat pouring off her like static. “’Cause you’re looking at me like you still want me to ruin you.”

Your breath caught, stomach dropping in that sick, electric way you’d always hated.

“I came down for water.”

She leaned in, mouth by your ear. “Then drink.”

You turned your head. “Maybe I’ll take the milk. Since you got your filthy mouth all over it.”

She grinned, teeth bared. “Thought you liked it filthy.”

It was so fast you didn’t even register who moved first. One second you were toe-to-toe, and the next her hand was on your hip, your back slammed against the fridge door with a thud. Milk carton hit the floor and rolled.

Your hands flew up to push her off—but you didn’t. Not really.

She leaned in closer, breath hot against your cheek. “Tell me to stop.”

You glared at her. “Go to hell.”

That was enough.

She kissed you like a challenge—like a punishment—teeth clashing, hands rough as they slid down to grab the backs of your thighs and lift. You gasped, arms wrapping tight around her shoulders as she carried you out of the kitchen like you weighed nothing.

The hallway blurred past.

Then the laundry room door slammed shut behind you.

“Sevika—”

“Quiet,” she growled, slamming you against the washer. “Unless you want your little friend to wake up and see how filthy you really are.”

She shoved your tank top up, teeth grazing your ribs. You hissed, fingers digging into her shoulders.

“You think I didn’t notice?” she muttered, dragging her tongue across your stomach. “Strutting around this house. Bending over in those tiny little shorts. Smirking like you own me.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” she said, biting the inside of your thigh. “And now you get what you wanted.”

You groaned, back arching off the cold metal. “You talk a lot of shit for someone who came in less than five minutes last time.”

Her head snapped up. Her eyes—dark, mean, gleaming.

“You’re gonna regret that,” she said.

She dropped to her knees.

You didn’t regret a thing.

You didn’t come down for this.

You weren’t supposed to let this happen.

But your hands were in her hair and your legs were over her shoulders, and Sevika didn’t stop—not when you gasped her name, not when your back arched so hard you knocked over the detergent bottle, not even when you bit down on your own fist to keep from screaming.

She stayed on her knees like she was starving for you. Like she hated you for it. Like you owed her this.

When it was over, she stood slowly, face flushed, mouth wet, eyes sharp and ruined at the same time. Her hands stayed on your thighs for a beat too long, like she wasn’t ready to let go. Like she might pull you back down and do it all over again.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she leaned against the dryer, grabbed the cigarette tucked behind her ear, and lit it like she hadn’t just made you fall apart in a fucking laundry room.

You tugged your tank top down, throat burning. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

She exhaled smoke without looking at you. “You love it.”

You slid off the washer and almost stumbled—legs still jelly. Sevika caught your arm without thinking. Her touch was firm, gentle.

Too gentle.

You yanked away. “Don’t.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What, now you wanna play innocent?”

You didn’t answer. You just bent down, grabbed your stupid shorts off the floor, and shoved your way past her toward the door. Her voice followed you.

“Don’t act like you didn’t want this, sweetheart.”

You turned back. Your hand on the knob, eyes blazing. “I didn’t want this.”

She just looked at you. Silent. Still smoking. Like she knew you were lying.

Like she wasn’t.

You slipped upstairs like a ghost, into your best friend’s room—back under the covers, heart still pounding, skin still flushed with Sevika’s touch. You stared at the ceiling. At the cracks. At the dark.

You didn’t sleep.

And in the morning, when you came downstairs for real this time—hair brushed, socks on, fake-smiling at your best friend pouring cereal—Sevika was already at the table. Sitting there like nothing happened.

She didn’t look at you.

But when her knee brushed yours under the table, slow and deliberate?

You didn’t move away.

You never did.

And that was the problem.

Because two hours later, you were back in her arms—this time behind the closed door of her bedroom, pressed up against the inside of it with your nails dragging down her back and your breath caught on a sob you didn’t want her to hear.

And Sevika? Sevika kissed you like you were a drug she hated herself for craving.

Like she wanted to ruin you a little more every time.

And maybe you let her.

Maybe you liked it.

But the worst part? The part you really don’t talk about? Is that it didn’t start that way.

Not really.

It started with a smile. A party you didn’t want to go to. A girl you hadn’t seen in two years just showing up like that.

It started with a stupid little comment and the slow, slow burn of a match you didn’t know you’d lit.

So yeah. Now you’re standing here with her knee between your thighs under a breakfast table like it’s normal. Like you didn’t spend all night pretending she wasn’t the best mistake you’ve ever made.

But back then?

Back then, you were just an innocent girl.

And she was just your best friend’s sister.

MAY

You glared at your reflection in the mirror, tugging at the hem of your tank top like it would magically make you feel better about being dragged to this party.

“I hate people,” you muttered, leaning closer to smear a little black eyeliner under your lashes. “I hate beer. I hate sticky counters. And I hate this playlist.”

Behind you, your best friend was already sprawled across her bed, vape tucked between her lips as she scrolled mindlessly through her phone. She didn’t even look up.

“You hate everything, dramatic ass,” she said, voice flat. “But you’re still going.”

“I’d rather stay home.”

“It’s my graduation party.”

“Exactly.”

She rolled her eyes and finally sat up, yanking the vape from her mouth with a sigh. “You’re not skipping it just ‘cause you’re in one of your moods. We both survived high school. We deserve to be drunk and messy about it.”

You turned to face her, arms crossed. “You deserve to be drunk and messy. I deserve to eat Hot Cheetos in bed and fall asleep to true crime like a civilized adult.”

She laughed. “Okay, Grandma.”

You gave her a look. “I’m serious. What’s even the point? Everyone’s just gonna get shitfaced and pretend they like each other until someone pukes in the downstairs bathroom.”

“And you’ll be hot and mysterious in the corner like you always are.”

“Hot and mysterious doesn’t mean I want to be there.”

“God, would you listen to yourself?” She climbed off the bed, padding over in her fuzzy socks to stand beside you. “You know what your problem is?”

“Enlighten me.”

“You’ve been a bad bitch for, like, a year now and you still haven’t gotten laid. It’s tragic.”

Your face flushed instantly. “I’ve been busy!”

“Doing what?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again.

She grinned, wild and wicked. “Exactly.”

You flipped her off. “Not everyone wants to hook up with football guys in the back of their trucks, okay?”

“Well, maybe if you wore something that said ‘please rail me behind a Denny’s,’ you’d have better luck.”

You were about to protest again when she suddenly darted to her laundry hamper, digging through a pile of half-clean clothes before triumphantly yanking something black and slinky free.

“Oh no,” you said, already backing away.

“Oh yes.”

She held it up. A dress. Or the vague suggestion of one—short, tight, borderline illegal.

You stared. “That’s a shirt.”

She grinned around the mouthpiece of her vape. “It’s a dress. I’ve worn it to church.”

“You have not.”

“Fine. I wore it to a concert. And I didn’t wear panties either.”

“Ew.”

“Exactly. Now put this on.” She tossed it at you with a wicked little smirk and blew a cloud of mango vapor in your face. “You’ve got the tits for it now.”

You caught the fabric midair, still frowning but already turning toward the mirror again.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like parties. Not really. You’d just… changed. A lot.

A year after Sevika left for college, something in you flipped. The braces came off, the acne cleared, your curves filled in all at once. You stopped apologizing so much. Stopped waiting for someone to notice you.

People noticed now. Everyone but her.

Sevika hadn’t been home since she moved out three years ago. No holiday visits, no texts. Just a vague shadow in the back of your memory—hoodies, combat boots, the scratch of her voice. Her constant teasing. The way she used to ruffle your hair and call you “kid.”

The house was packed now—bass shaking the floors, the air thick with weed smoke and sweat, and someone was definitely making out on the pool table.

You pushed your way back in from the yard, wiping lip gloss from your mouth with the back of your hand and still trying to remember the name of the guy you'd just made out with in the downstairs bathroom. Brandon? Bradley? Whatever.

You were buzzing. Body warm, head a little floaty. The dress Riley made you wear was riding up again and you didn’t even bother pulling it down.

You found her in the living room, laughing with someone tall, broad, and shadowed under the dim ceiling light. You didn’t recognize the profile at first—not through the blur of movement and cheap LED glow.

“Hey,” you called out, nudging Riley’s shoulder. “I just made out with some dude in your parents' bathroom. He tasted like Fireball and had, like, so much tongue.”

Riley snorted and slung an arm around your waist, pulling you in close, still laughing, face a little pink from whatever jungle juice she’d been downing.

“Sis,” she said, turning you both toward the other figure. “You know who this is?”

You blinked, lips parted, too tipsy to track the shift in her tone.

Then the other girl turned to face you fully.

And your stomach dropped.

You recognized that jaw. That scar. That deadpan stare that always made you feel like she could see through you, even when you were twelve and trying to sneak vodka into your root beer.

Sevika.

Your throat went dry.

She looked so different. Broader. Taller, somehow. A little more ink, a little less patience. Her eyes dragged down your frame—slow, unreadable—and then back up to your face like she wasn’t in any kind of rush.

Riley grinned between you. “You remember Sev, right?”

“Thought her flight wasn’t until next week,” you said dumbly.

“She surprised me!” Riley laughed, smacking Sevika’s arm playfully. “Just showed up at the front door like a creep! I was wearing a towel!”

Sevika rolled her eyes, finally taking the red Solo cup from her sister’s hand and draining the rest of it like it was water.

“I’m not drunk yet,” she muttered, licking her lips once before lifting her gaze to yours. “That’s Y/N.”

She said it so casually.

Like your name didn’t sound heavy in her mouth. Like her eyes hadn’t already dropped to your thighs when you weren’t looking. Like you hadn’t spent three years wondering what it would be like to see her again—and now you were here, wearing a dress that could barely pass as a shirt, pupils blown from weed and nerves, still catching up to the fact that she was real.

That she was here.

You felt yourself swallow hard. And Sevika noticed.

She didn’t smirk. Didn’t tease. She just looked at you.

Like maybe she did remember.

And maybe she regretted coming home at all.

The living room had thinned out a bit. Someone had passed out half-on, half-off the couch, and the playlist had somehow looped back to early 2000s hits no one wanted to admit they knew every word to.

You were slumped in a kitchen barstool now, legs crossed, drink forgotten in your lap as your eyes wandered lazily around the room—landing and lingering on her.

Sevika stood near the counter, one arm braced against it, the other curled loosely around a red cup. The neckline of her black tee was loose, exposing the sharp cut of her collarbone and a flash of ink near her shoulder. She looked good. Too good. And worse? She knew it.

You didn’t realize you were staring until she looked over at you with a lopsided grin.

“You good over there, lightweight?”

Your eyes narrowed, head tilting. “Excuse you?”

She pushed off the counter and strolled over, the heavy thud of her boots somehow louder than the music. She stopped in front of you, towering just a little, smirking down like a damn bully.

“You’ve had, what? Two drinks and a hit off Riley’s vape, and you’re already zoning out like a toddler after cake.”

“I’m not zoning out,” you said, defensively poking her stomach. “I’m observing.”

“Sure. Observing the fridge. Real deep.”

“I’m multitasking, asshole.”

That earned a laugh from her—low and raspy, not unkind. “You’re so faded you almost walked into the screen door earlier.”

“That screen door was invisible, okay?” you said, standing up just to glare at her properly. “It’s a design flaw.”

“Oh my god,” Sevika muttered, taking a sip from her cup and shaking her head. “You’re so full of shit.”

“And you’re so full of yourself,” you shot back, wobbling a little as you pointed at her. “What’s it like being the main character all the time?”

She raised a brow. “What’s it like being this fucking annoying?”

You gasped—gasped, like she’d insulted your mother. “I am delightful.”

“You’re a menace.”

“You’re mean!”

“You’re high.”

You squinted up at her, swaying slightly. “You’re hot.”

That shut her up.

Just for a second.

Her smirk faltered. Her jaw ticked. Her eyes flicked down to your mouth and then right back up again—sharp, unreadable.

You blinked. Realized what you’d said. Realized you didn’t even regret it.

“See?” you mumbled, shrugging and flopping back onto the stool. “You’re quiet now.”

“Not quiet,” she said, voice rougher. She set her cup down and leaned forward, palms on the counter beside your legs. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous,” you teased, heart in your throat now.

“Not as dangerous as you in that dress.”

You stilled.

Her eyes didn’t waver. “You know what you’re doing.”

Maybe you did. Maybe you didn’t.

But either way, you weren’t backing down.

“Good,” you whispered. “It’d be a shame if you missed it.”

You didn’t mean to start something.

But there was no denying the way she was looking at you now—like she was debating whether to shove you back against the counter or walk away before she did something really stupid.

She chose neither.

Instead, Sevika pushed off the counter, grabbed her drink, and mumbled, “You need water.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You’re cooked. Come on.”

She didn’t wait for you to argue, just turned and headed for the hallway without a glance back. You stared after her for a second, dumbfounded, then reluctantly slid off the stool and followed. Your thighs stuck to the fake leather. You were still pulling your dress down when you caught up with her.

She stopped at the kitchen sink, filled a glass, and shoved it toward you.

“Drink.”

You frowned. “You’re bossy.”

“And you’re dehydrated.”

Still, you took the glass. Mostly because you were thirsty—and not just in the literal way. You drank a little too fast, water running down the side of your mouth. Sevika didn’t say anything, just watched with that same unreadable stare.

Then she said, “Come with me.”

You opened your mouth to sass her again, but she was already walking. Down the hall, past the bathroom, and toward the sliding door that led out to the back deck. You followed without thinking. The air outside was cooler now, the night quieter. Most of the party was inside or upstairs. You could still hear bass, muffled behind glass.

Sevika sat on one of the deck chairs and lit a cigarette. She didn’t offer you one.

You stood awkwardly, arms folded. “So… you just wanted me to hydrate and vibe out here with you?”

“Yeah.”

You laughed once. “That’s weirdly wholesome for someone who used to throw lit bottle rockets at me.”

She snorted. “You were annoying.”

“You were an asshole.”

Sevika took a long drag, exhaled slow. “Still am.”

You shifted, legs cold now under the too-short dress. “So why’d you bring me out here?”

She didn’t answer right away.

Then: “Because if you stayed in there, you were gonna do something stupid.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I wasn’t gonna do anything—”

“You already made out with some guy you don’t even remember.”

“That was fun.”

“No it wasn’t.”

You took a step toward her. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you acting like you do?”

Her eyes flicked up to yours. For a second, neither of you moved.

And then she said, “Because I know what you’re doing.”

That shut you up.

Sevika leaned back, cigarette dangling from her lips. “You walk in wearing that dress. You push. You prod. You want a reaction. You want me to look.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again.

“Truth is?” she said, voice low now. “I’ve been trying not to.”

Silence fell like a drop of rain before a storm.

You stared at her. At the curve of her mouth. The smoke in her breath. The shadow on her cheek.

You could’ve kissed her right then.

But you didn’t.

You just sat down beside her, pulled your knees up to your chest, and whispered:

“…I didn’t think you’d come back.”

She didn’t answer. But after a long moment, she passed you the cigarette.

You took it without a word.

It started with a look.

You didn’t even remember what sparked the argument—something Sevika said in that low, judgmental tone that always rubbed you raw. Something about you not thinking things through. About you not knowing what you wanted.

“I do know what I want,” you’d snapped, standing now, your voice rising. “I’m not some stupid little kid anymore.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

That did it.

You stormed off, dress clinging to your hips, heart hammering in your throat. The sliding door slammed shut behind you as you made your way through the crowd, ignoring the blur of music and sweat and someone puking into a Solo cup behind the couch. You needed something to shut your brain up, to pull you out of that spiral Sevika always shoved you into.

So when you saw the circle forming in the living room—half-drunk friends laughing, a bottle already spinning—you didn’t think.

You just dropped down into the half-empty spot, tucking your legs beneath you and leaning back on your palm like nothing was wrong. Like you weren’t still burning from that fight.

It was stupid. Childish. But that was the point, wasn’t it?

Just one last dumb game before everyone scattered for college, jobs, whatever came after this summer. One last reckless night to feel something sharp and messy and unforgettable.

The bottle spun. People laughed. A few weak kisses happened. Someone dared a guy to take a body shot off a watermelon.

And then—

A girl spun it.

You didn’t even know her that well. Something-Ashley. Hair pulled up in a loose bun, crop top riding high. The bottle slowed… and stopped, pointing right at you.

The group lit up.

“Oooooh!” “Damn, Y/N!” “She’s hot, though—do it!”

You smiled, sweet and slow, letting your eyes drift across the circle… and land on her.

Sevika.

Standing at the edge of the room with her arms crossed over her chest, eyes locked on you. Her jaw clenched. Her shoulders tense. That vein in her neck ticking like a warning.

You turned back to Ashley.

“C’mere,” you said with a shrug.

The girl grinned and leaned in—and you kissed her.

Soft at first. A little shy, a little playful. But then her hand slid into your hair, and your mouth opened, and the kiss turned hot. Messy. Full-on intentional.

The guys went feral.

“HOLY SHIT.” “YESSS.” “Fucking hell—keep going!”

But you didn’t hear them. Not really.

You kissed her harder. Not because she was a girl. Not for the attention. Not for the game.

But because you knew Sevika was watching.

And then she wasn’t.

You caught the movement out of the corner of your eye—her turning sharply, pushing through the crowd, vanishing down the hallway without a word.

You pulled away from Ashley, breath uneven. She blinked at you, lips pink, dazed and clearly questioning every label she’d ever used.

You wiped your mouth.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, standing up. “You’re great. That was just…”

You didn’t finish.

You left them sitting there—Ashley with her fingers still tangled in the hem of her shirt, and the rest of the group laughing like nothing had just cracked open and spilled across the carpet.

You pushed through the kitchen. Past the bathroom line. Down the hall.

You had no idea where Sevika went.

But you were going to find her.

And this time?

You weren’t going to walk away.

The hallway was dim, quiet compared to the chaos still thumping through the rest of the house. You passed the old family photos like a ghost—Riley in braces, Sevika in a high school jersey, both of them years younger and smiling.

You reached the last door on the left.

It was cracked open.

You pushed it gently, just enough to see inside.

Sevika was sitting on the edge of the bed—her old bed, now draped in fresh sheets like it hadn’t been abandoned for three years. Her elbows were on her knees, one hand sliding down her face as she muttered something low under her breath.

You stepped inside before she noticed.

“I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

She looked up sharply.

Her eyes were darker now. Jaw set. That hand dropped from her face and curled into a fist against her thigh.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

You flinched but shut the door behind you anyway. “Look, I know that was stupid—”

“You think this is about the game?” Her voice was low, dangerous. “It’s not about who you kissed.”

You crossed your arms. “Then what?”

She stood suddenly, towering, and you instinctively stepped back—but only a little.

“You think waving your ass around in that dress and making out with the first girl who looks at you is cute? That it makes you look grown?”

Your stomach dropped.

“I wasn’t doing it for them.”

She scoffed, venom thick in her voice. “You weren’t doing it for her either.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

Sevika’s nostrils flared. She paced once, fingers dragging through her hair. “You used your body to impress a room full of drunk guys who don’t give a fuck about you. That’s what you want? Attention from assholes who only see tits and lip gloss?”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

“You act like you’re some untouchable tease, and the second people look, you fold.”

That hit. You felt it in your gut—shame and heat and fury rising all at once.

“Fuck you,” you spat.

“You wish.”

And then it exploded.

You shoved her chest with both hands. Hard.

She barely moved.

She grabbed your wrists before you could pull back, spinning you around and slamming your back against the door with a thud. Her breath hit your face, fast and hot.

“You think this is a game?”

You glared at her, chest heaving. “You’re just mad you weren’t the one I kissed.”

She didn’t respond.

She grabbed your jaw and kissed you.

Hard.

Teeth clashed. Your nails scraped down her arms. Her thigh pressed between yours, pinning you there like she’d waited years for this.

You whimpered against her mouth and felt her smirk—like she’d won something. Like she always did.

But you kissed her back anyway.

Your fingers found the hem of her shirt. Hers yanked your dress higher. There was no rhythm—just heat, collision, punishment wrapped in need.

You pulled back first, panting. “I hate you.”

“Say it again,” she growled, mouth on your neck now. “Say it while you’re dripping for me.”

You moaned—soft, furious, undone.

And then you kissed her again.

Because you didn’t want to stop. Because you couldn’t. Because this was so, so wrong.

And you’d never wanted anything more.

You didn’t even make it to the bed.

Sevika spun you back against the door, and this time when her hands caught your hips, she didn’t hesitate. She grabbed—fingers bruising, nails digging into the soft skin just above your thighs as she hauled your leg up around her waist and shoved her knee higher between yours.

You gasped, head tipping back to hit the wood with a dull thud. “Fuck—”

“Yeah?” Sevika’s voice was thick, dark, breath hot against your cheek. “This what you wanted, baby?”

You whined and tried to pull her closer, but she caught your wrists again—pinned them above your head with one hand while the other slid up under your dress. Your breath hitched when her fingers grazed your soaked panties.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, almost to herself. “You’re dripping.”

You squirmed, hips jerking up against her touch. “Please.”

“Oh, now you’re polite.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snapped, and that was all it took.

She let go of your wrists and yanked your panties to the side with one hand, the other gripping your jaw as she shoved two fingers inside you—fast. Deep. Like she already knew the exact angle that would make you moan like that.

You nearly collapsed.

She didn’t let you.

She held you up with the weight of her thigh and the thick stretch of her fingers fucking into you, slow and then suddenly not slow at all. Her mouth found your neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark, then soothing it with her tongue.

“God,” you gasped, hips stuttering. “Sevika—”

“I’ve got you,” she growled. “Fuck, I’ve got you.”

She curled her fingers just right and your legs shook. You clung to her shirt, clawed at her back, buried your face in her shoulder so no one would hear you fall apart.

But she felt it.

The way your walls clenched, how your moans turned to sobs, how your body shuddered around her hand.

“That's it,” she muttered, slowing just enough to draw it out, to make you feel every twitch. “Come for me.”

And you did.

Hard.

You sagged against her, chest heaving, lips parted, skin flushed and raw. Your dress was bunched around your waist. Her fingers were still inside you—slow, almost lazy now.

Then she kissed you again.

Slower this time. Still filthy. Still possessive.

When she finally pulled away, she wiped her hand on your thigh and leaned in close, her mouth just barely grazing your ear.

“You kiss anyone else tonight,” she murmured, “I’ll fuck you in front of the whole damn room next time.”

Your pulse spiked.

And all you could do was nod.

Because fuck… You wanted her to mean it.

JUNE

It had been three days.

Three days since the door clicked shut behind her. Three days since she walked down that hallway like nothing had happened—like Sevika’s hand hadn’t still been between her thighs five minutes earlier. Like they hadn’t both sworn, half-dressed and out of breath, “This doesn’t mean anything.”

She said it first. Sevika repeated it.

So why was she the one sending messages at 3 a.m.?

You stared down at your phone, thumb hovering over the most recent one.

3:14 AM

you’re not still thinking about it, right? bc i’m not. seriously.

And before that:

Yesterday, 6:41 PM

you looked good in that dress

Sunday, 12:02 PM

you gonna ignore me forever? cute

You hadn’t answered any of them. Not a single one.

And maybe that was cruel. But fuck it felt good.

You were dressed down today—bootcut leggings clinging to your thighs, a cropped zip-up sweatshirt barely covering the tight white tank underneath, your hair clipped up in a lazy twist. You leaned into the grocery cart like it was the only thing keeping you upright, staring at your screen like it might bite.

"Y/N," your mom called from a few feet away, comparing the price of fabric softeners like it was a life-or-death decision. "Can you grab some pizza rolls for your brother? The off-brand kind, not those overpriced ones."

You nodded absently and turned, still not looking up from your phone as you wandered off. The freezer doors were a blurry, frosty line in your periphery, the kind of quiet section where nothing important happened.

Until it did.

You reached for the handle of the frozen snacks door just as a voice behind you stopped you cold.

“Really? You’re ghosting me now?”

You froze—hand still on the glass, heart lurching, stomach flipping so hard it hurt.

You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

But you did anyway.

Sevika stood a few feet behind you in the aisle, her dark hoodie unzipped over a fitted tee, a six-pack of Modelo in one hand and a bag of something frozen in the other. Her hair was half-tied back, and she looked tired. Annoyed. Wrecked, maybe.

You tilted your head slowly. “Hey.”

“That’s all I get?”

You raised a brow. “We said no strings.”

She scoffed, shifting her weight. “No strings doesn’t mean radio silence.”

You gave a casual shrug and grabbed the pizza rolls, not bothering to hide the smirk tugging at your lips. “Didn’t think you’d be the clingy type.”

Her jaw tensed.

“You think this is funny?”

You turned back to face her, holding the box of pizza rolls against your hip. “A little.”

She stepped closer. Not close enough to draw attention—just enough that her voice dropped a few degrees lower.

“You act like you’re in control, but we both know you’d let me fuck you again if I asked.”

Your smile vanished.

You took a breath.

And then, calmly, “Yeah. But you’re not asking.”

That caught her.

For a moment, Sevika just looked at you. Like she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to grab you by the wrist or slam her head into the freezer door.

Then she muttered, “You’re such a brat.”

“And you’re supposed to be the one who doesn’t care,” you shot back, stepping around her. “Guess we’re both off our game.”

You walked away without looking back.

Sevika didn’t follow.

But the next text came before you made it to the checkout line.

2:46 PM

come over tonight or don’t but i’ll be thinking about how wet you were

You didn’t answer that one either.

Not yet.

You didn’t even knock.

The text had been vague, half-daring, half-desperate, but you knew what it meant. Knew what she wanted. What you wanted, too, even if you were still pretending it didn’t matter.

You pulled up outside just past 10, the house quiet and dark except for the soft orange glow leaking through the living room windows. No car in the driveway but hers. No one home but her.

You pushed open the front door—unlocked, like she was expecting you—and stepped inside without a word.

“Sevika?” you called softly, tone casual, like you weren’t already soaked between the thighs just thinking about her hands on you again.

You barely made it three steps into the house.

Suddenly—there she was.

Coming out of the hallway like a shadow. Loose grey tank, black sweats slung low. Her hair was damp from a shower, curling around her jaw. No greeting. No hello.

Just—“You came.”

You didn’t even have time to speak before her hands were on your waist and your back hit the nearest wall with a thud.

Her mouth crushed against yours, hard, greedy, like she'd been holding back for days. Her body pinned you, thigh already sliding between your legs as you gasped and clutched at her shoulders.

She pulled back just enough to mutter, “You think you can fuck with my head and then show up looking like that?”

You arched into her, heart pounding. “Maybe.”

Sevika growled and ducked down to bite your neck—hard enough to make your knees buckle. Her hands shoved up under your hoodie, yanking your tank top with it, bunching both in her fists until your chest was bared to the cool air.

“Fuck,” she muttered, mouthing at your breast, biting, sucking, palming it like she hated how much she wanted it. “You’ve been ignoring me just to get me like this, huh?”

You gasped. “You think too much of yourself.”

She shoved her thigh up higher. “You’re dripping.”

You whimpered.

Sevika pulled away just long enough to yank your leggings and panties down in one motion, your sneakers scraping against the floor as you tried not to collapse. She spun you around, hands on your hips, and bent you over the hallway console table like you weighed nothing.

“Look at you,” she rasped behind you. “So desperate. So quiet now.”

“Fuck you,” you hissed, cheek pressed to the cool wood.

She grinned, voice low and vicious. “You already did, baby.”

Her fingers slid between your legs, and you sobbed her name the second she pushed in—no warmup, no teasing this time. Just pure need.

She fucked you like she was mad. Like you’d betrayed her somehow. Her other hand gripped your shoulder, holding you down while she drove into you with long, punishing strokes that left your thighs shaking.

“Thought about this,” she muttered, panting, hips snapping harder. “Every night since.”

You couldn’t answer. Could barely breathe.

“Thought about you riding me,” she continued, breath hot against your ear now, bending over you as your body trembled under hers. “Thought about making you beg.”

You choked on a moan as her fingers curved just right.

“You gonna beg, baby?” she whispered, slowing just enough to make you feel it. “You gonna admit who you belong to?”

You didn’t say it.

You didn’t have to.

Your body gave her the answer—hips jerking, voice cracking, falling apart so hard and fast you didn’t even realize you were crying until she wrapped a hand around your throat and groaned, “There she is…”

You came so hard your knees gave out.

She caught you, lifted you like you were nothing, and carried you toward the bedroom—still inside you, still hard, still not done.

And neither were you.

She carried you into the bedroom like she couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.

Your arms were around her neck, head tucked under her chin, body still pulsing from that first orgasm—legs shaky, panties hitting the floor (i aint got no panties on), hair sticking to your cheeks with sweat. Sevika’s hand slid down your thigh as she laid you back against the mattress, her eyes dark and hooded.

She didn’t say anything as she peeled your sweatshirt and tank the rest of the way off. Just watched. Took her time. Dragged her fingers up your stomach like she was memorizing you. Her thumb brushed your ribcage. She looked at you like maybe you weren’t just a brat who ghosted her.

Like maybe you were hers.

You didn’t dare speak.

Not when she kneeled between your legs, shirt off, sweatpants pushed down just enough for you to see the thick black strap she’d already buckled on underneath. Not when she leaned over you, arms braced on either side of your head, gaze locked on your face like she wanted to watch you come undone in slow motion.

"You sure?" she asked, voice low now—not mocking, not teasing. Just... there.

Your throat felt tight.

You nodded.

“Use your words, baby.”

You swallowed. “Yes. Please.”

That made her smile. Not smug. Just quiet. Like maybe it was the first real one you’d seen from her in years.

She kissed you again—slower this time. Less teeth, more tongue. More push and pull and the quiet threat of something deeper blooming under it all. Her hand slid down between your legs again, fingers slipping through the mess she left behind.

“You’re still so fucking wet,” she murmured, not even pretending to hide the groan in her throat. “This all for me?”

You whimpered, hips lifting.

That was all she needed.

Sevika lined herself up and pushed in—slow, careful now, like she wanted to feel every inch of you stretch around her. You gasped, mouth open, one leg curling around her waist instinctively.

She stayed like that for a moment, buried deep inside you, just breathing against your mouth.

You whispered, “Move.”

And she did.

Long, slow thrusts that hit every nerve ending like fire. Her hands gripped your hips, then your jaw, then your thigh again like she didn’t know where to hold you because she wanted all of you. Her forehead pressed to yours. Her breath stuttered. She was whispering things you barely caught—your name, curses, “so tight,” “so pretty like this,” “don’t run from me again.”

You cupped her face, dragged her mouth back to yours, and kissed her like you were already addicted.

The rhythm built slowly, steadily, every push dragging another sound from your throat—until your whole body was shaking again and she growled into your neck, “Come on, baby, let go for me—again. I know you can.”

And you did.

Harder than before. Slower. Deeper.

Sevika held you through it—grinding her hips into yours, letting you ride it out, her arms wrapped around your waist like she couldn’t let you slip away even if she tried.

Your nails dug into her back. Your breath hitched. You clung to her like you didn’t want morning to come.

And maybe you didn’t.

Because when she finally pulled out and collapsed beside you—bare chest rising and falling, lips swollen, jaw slack—neither of you said a word.

You just lay there, tangled in sheets, silent.

Too close. Too warm. Too real.

And it hit you, then.

You were in so much trouble.

The light was different when you opened your eyes.

Warm. Soft. Unforgiving.

You blinked against the morning sun filtering through the blinds, your body sore in all the right places—hips aching, legs tangled in unfamiliar sheets, and the distinct, unbearable weight of reality settling low in your chest.

You turned your head.

Sevika was still asleep.

Flat on her back, one arm thrown above her head, the other resting across her stomach. Her hair was a mess. Her lips were parted slightly, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm that told you this wasn’t the kind of sleep she got often.

She looked... peaceful. Human. Beautiful.

You hated it.

Because everything in you wanted to curl into her side. To press your face against her shoulder and pretend none of this was complicated. That you weren’t supposed to be her sister’s best friend. That this wasn’t supposed to be just sex.

But it didn’t feel like just sex anymore.

Not after the way she kissed you. Not after the way she held you. Not after the way she didn’t say anything when you finally fell asleep beside her—just shifted closer in the dark and let your hand rest over her chest like it belonged there.

You swallowed hard and sat up slowly.

Every inch of you ached, but you didn’t make a sound. You moved carefully, deliberately. Pulled on your sweatshirt from the floor. Dug around for your phone. Slipped one leg into your leggings, then the other.

You scanned the room, heart hammering, nerves on edge.

No bra. No socks. No—

Your panties.

Gone.

You spotted them a second later—on the floor at the foot of the bed, rumpled and barely visible against the shadows.

You hesitated.

Sevika shifted in her sleep, brow twitching slightly, lips parting just enough to exhale.

You grabbed your phone and backed out instead.

Didn’t bother with the underwear.

Didn’t say goodbye.

You slipped out the front door as quietly as you’d come in, heart racing, skin still flushed, the scent of her still clinging to your clothes.

And Sevika?

She didn’t wake until nearly noon.

When she finally stretched, groggy and warm and half-hard under the sheets, her hand reached for the space beside her.

Empty.

Her eyes opened slowly—confused, heavy.

And there, on the floor near the bed, sat your underwear.

Small.

Soft.

Proof.

She picked them up without a word.

Held them in her hand like a question she didn’t know how to ask.

And the worst part?

She didn’t know if she wanted you to come back and take them…

…or if she wanted to keep them exactly where they were.

You didn’t remember the drive home.

You blinked, and suddenly you were pulling into your driveway, engine still running, hands gripping the wheel like it could hold you together. The world looked too normal outside—bright, quiet, birds chirping like you hadn’t just had reckless, wall-slamming, toe-curling sex with your best friend’s sister.

Twice.

You slammed the car door harder than necessary and made your way inside, heart still pounding in your ears. Your mom wasn’t home. Thank god. The house was still, peaceful, and you felt anything but.

You kicked off your shoes and went straight to your room, peeling off your sweatshirt, tossing your keys onto the dresser, and falling face-first into your bed.

Fuck.

You didn’t cry. Not yet. You just lay there, the silence stretching long and thin around you as last night replayed in pieces. The hallway. The bite on your neck. Her voice in your ear.

You kiss anyone else tonight, I’ll fuck you in front of the whole damn room next time.

You groaned into your pillow.

You hadn’t meant to sleep over. Hell, you hadn’t meant to go over at all. You weren’t supposed to like the way she looked at you after. Like you were hers. Like she wasn’t going to let you go.

And you definitely weren’t supposed to leave your underwear on her bedroom floor.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Your phone buzzed beside you.

You rolled over with a groan, expecting another text from her—another “where are you” or a dirty little memory from last night.

But it wasn’t from Sevika.

It was from Riley.

Your stomach dropped.

Riley 🐍

were you at my house last night?

You sat up so fast you saw stars. The air left your lungs. Your fingers trembled as you stared at the screen, the words blaring back at you like a spotlight.

Shit shit shit.

Your pulse spiked. You could already feel the sweat forming at the back of your neck. You fumbled to type something—anything—that would make sense.

You settled on:

you:

i forgot my wallet at the party sorry

You hit send.

Then immediately threw your phone across the bed like it had caught fire.

You stared at the ceiling, heart in your throat, counting your breaths. One. Two. Three.

Ding.

You launched yourself across the bed, scrambling to grab the phone, praying it wasn’t Sevika saying something stupid

You unlocked the screen.

Riley 🐍

lol ok just wondering, sevika said she heard the door this morning but thought it was her dreams or some shit lmao

You exhaled so hard you almost collapsed.

You let your head fall back against the headboard, phone still in your hand, chest rising and falling like you’d just escaped a firing squad.

You were safe.

For now.

But this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Because you could still feel her teeth on your neck.

The underwear was still in her hand.

It was soft, pale, a little lace at the trim. Barely anything at all. Just a scrap of fabric, really.

But Sevika stared at it like it had teeth.

She sat on the edge of the bed, hair still damp from sweat and sleep, sheet slung low around her hips. Her fingers curled slowly around the waistband. She could still smell you on it. Still see the shape your body had left in the mattress. Still feel the ghost of your nails dragging down her back.

What the fuck was that?

You were supposed to be a one-time thing. A mistake. A hot, filthy, memory-staining mistake that you both walked away from with a smirk and a shoulder shrug.

So why had you kissed her like you meant it?

Why had you curled into her after? Why hadn’t you said goodbye?

Why the fuck had she reached for you in her sleep?

She rubbed her face with both hands, growling under her breath. “Get it together.”

Then—footsteps.

Shit.

The door opened and Riley’s voice followed, too loud and too fast for Sevika’s half-fried brain to track.

“Sevika, do we have any almond milk left or—what the fuck, are you still in bed?”

Sevika jolted upright, shoving the underwear under the pillow with military precision and grabbing the sheet to yank it tighter across her chest. “Jesus, knock next time.”

Riley stood in the doorway holding a cereal box, one brow arched.

“Ew, are you naked?”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking are.”

Sevika rolled her eyes and stretched her arms behind her like it was just another lazy morning. “Didn’t know I needed permission to sleep in my own damn bed.”

“Whatever,” Riley muttered, heading toward the kitchen. “I thought I heard the door earlier. Weird dreams or something. You hear anything?”

Sevika shrugged—too casual. “Might’ve. Could’ve been the cat.”

“We don’t have a cat.”

“Then it was a burglar.”

“Funny.” Riley’s voice was already fading into the hall. “Let me know if they took the almond milk.”

The door clicked shut again.

Sevika exhaled, slow and shaky. She waited a beat, then reached under the pillow and pulled the underwear back out.

She stared at it.

Still there. Still real.

Still you.

She dragged her thumb across the fabric once, then set it down on the nightstand like she couldn’t bring herself to throw it out. Like she wasn’t done with you yet.

And her phone?

Still lit up on the floor.

No new messages.

Still nothing from you.

comment to be added to the taglist! @l4dyf1ngers

[rivwritesiguess]

Lost and Found - Chapter 2: Hawk

Word Count: 11.5k Still just angst, gonna be like this for quite a bit Poly!141 x gn!omega!reader Summary: The mission must go on despite reunions. The 141 is realizing just how different you've become. Warnings: Killing, reader is a meanie, military inaccuracies, bad attempts at European accents Notes: The POV changes so much in the last part, I'm moving between Price, Gaz, and reader too often lol my bad. Reader is referred to with they/them pronouns and will continue to be throughout the series. I know reader is a bitch but I promise it's for a reason, bro went through it the past year. I've been spending so much time establishing exactly what happened to them and I still don't have it fully thought out so there might be some inconsistencies I have to fix in the future when I write future chapters but that's a future me type of thing to deal with so I'm just gonna keep having fun typing away on my laptop. Made the banner with Canva and the dividers with Photopea Navigation Series Masterlist Also on AO3 previous - next

  Johnny stared ahead. He couldn’t look away from you. You were here. You were standing in the same room as him. That was you. How the hell was that you? He knew you had died. He watched you close the window. He heard the bullets fire. He saw your blood on the ground. You were dead. You were supposed to be dead. And yet, here you were.

  You had your face covered. Why? Was it simply to hide from enemies? Something you got used to wearing on the field that you stopped taking it off? Or was it to hide from them? Had you known you’d be seeing them today? You had to have, you weren’t confused and lost like the rest of them. Maybe you were wearing the mask with the hope that they wouldn’t recognize you. But how could that ever happen? You were you, of course they’d recognize you. Or maybe there were other reasons that Johnny couldn’t think of. Johnny doesn’t know exactly what it might be, but he does know that he wants to storm over there and rip the mask off your face. He wants to see your face again. He wants you to smile at him. He wants to feet his heart skip a beat when you do, and he wants to watch you tell them that everything is fine. You were fine.

  Kyle’s jaw was slacked. There’s no way. This isn’t real. No way. It’s impossible. It didn’t make any sense. This couldn’t be happening. It’d been a whole year, if you’d been alive you would’ve come to see them. You would’ve. You definitely would’ve. Maybe it isn’t even you. Maybe their minds are just playing a horrible, evil trick on them.

  Your scent wasn’t in the air. You had always sucked at hiding your scent, the act of suppressing it giving you a strong headache. During missions, you needed full gear in order to hide your scent. Even with that full gear, your scent would seep through when your emotions were really high. But you didn’t seem to have any of that gear on right now. You were wearing normal clothes. No gear. He couldn’t see any patches covering the scent glands on your neck. There’s no way you would’ve been able to hide your scent from them without patches. This couldn’t be you. Right?

  Simon was unnaturally calm. He sat completely still, looking at you. His eyes dug into yours. He knew it was you. But it wasn’t his you. You weren’t the same. He could already tell. You were no longer their Ace, you were a Hawk. Whatever happened from when you walked away from them to now had changed you, and he could see that in your eyes. The playfulness that he had always found looking back at him was gone, replaced by something he saw in his own eyes when he looked in the mirror. Something that had started to fade away when you had come along, only to come back once you had died. 

  Seeing that look in your eyes made him angry. It made him enraged. He wanted to hunt down whoever caused you to have that look. Whoever took away the hope that you always had. Whoever made you think you had to wear a mask. Whoever made it so he couldn’t smell your scent. He wanted to make them pay. He needed to make them pay.

  “What… what’s going on? How- how…” Price couldn’t even think of anything to say. He looked between you and Laswell as he asked the question, not wanting to take his eyes fully off you. If he did, you might disappear. You might leave. Again. Just like last time. You would shut the door and leave them there. Alone. Without you. 

  What… what were you doing back? How were you back? How were you standing in the room with them? And why were you so… different?

  “It’s a complicated situation, John-”

  “That’s fer damn sure,” Johnny interrupted, looking at Laswell. His anger was seeping into the room. 

  A beta’s anger was never a good thing. It was infectious. Betas’ scents were meant to be used to calm, so when their scent gets more negatively intense, it can make others in the room start to feel that anger. Simon wasn’t arguing against it, his anger starting to seep into the air as well. Price was ignoring it, trying to understand the situation. And Kyle…

  Kyle was looking at you still. He thought back to before. You always hated it whenever one of them got angry. You’d project your scent, trying to get people to calm down. You’d end up tired, the process of projecting your scent taking a lot out of you. But you did it anyway. You’d want to help them. Now, you just sat there. You were simply looking at them. You hadn’t moved since you took down your hood. You hadn’t moved an inch.

  “This can all be explained-”

  “Like bloody hell it can!” Johnny shot up in his seat, hands slamming on the table. “What the actual fuck?!”

  “There’s no need to get aggressive. You need to calm down.” Kyle shook his head.

  “You can’t be telling him to calm down when you thought this would be a good idea.” He stood up next, leaning forward on the table. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s a long story and it would do you both better to calm down. Everyone in the room will benefit if you just-”

  “Oh, can it, Laswell, you knew damn well that wisnae how this would go, didnae start wi’ this bullshit!”

  “Johnny.” Price said. It was said in the way he’d normally use to scold one of his pack members, but his tone showed he wasn’t entirely feeling it. There was definitely a part of him that wanted to watch Johnny tear Laswell and this Colonel a new one. How long had they known? How long had Laswell known? How long did she keep their omega away from them? Had she known this past year? How did she allow them to nearly tear themselves apart? How could she put them into therapy knowing the real solution was alive and well?

  “Ye better tell us what the hell is gaun on before we-”

  “Johnny.” A bit more authoritative than before. Threatening wouldn’t get them anywhere. 

  The scents in the room were mixed. Hurt, anger, confusion. 

  And yet, with all these scents, all these high emotions, Simon noticed one that was still missing. Yours.

  “Look, Laswell, if this… if this is some kinda sick joke, it ain’t funny, alright? They’re scent- it- it’s not even here, you havin’ people who look like Ace showin’ up to mess with our heads?” Kyle said, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself more than trying to call this out as some trick even though he knew it wasn’t. Laswell wasn’t cruel. And he knew that was you, even without your scent. Your eyes were enough to tell him that.

  Laswell shook her head.

  “It isn’t a joke. That’s them. That’s Ace. I know you are all confused and angry, but if you don’t calm down-”

  “Quit telling us to calm doon, god dammit! How long have ye known?! How long have they been alive?! Did ye ever even think tae tell us this?!” The Colonel spoke up now, turning to Johnny.

  “Sergeant, you need to sit down and stop yelling. This isn’t-” 

  Price didn’t like that. This alpha that he didn’t know taking a tone with his pack member? His beta? After hiding one of their pack members from them? Who the hell does he think he is?

  “Don’t you start tellin’ one of my men what to do, not after this.”

  “Maybe if you’d control your Sergeant then it wouldn’t be needed.”

  That was something Kyle didn’t like. This other alpha was getting to be too much. His tone was not one Kyle liked hearing directed toward one of his alphas. This guy asked them for their help and then chose to reveal you to them this way. He can’t be mad at them for their reaction. He should be glad they have yet to tear him a new one. 

  “Oi, watch it. You don’t get to mouth off at us when you’re the one that asked for our help.”

  “I asked for your help as soldiers. I didn’t ask for you all to scream at us over something like this.”

  “Like this?! Like this?!”Johnny slammed his hands on the table once again. “There’s nothin’ fucking like this! This shouldnae even be a thing!”

  There wasn’t much that could stop it now. The screaming started, shouting back and forth. 

  You and Simon were the only ones who hadn’t said anything. You both stayed quiet and still. Simon kept his eyes on you while you had brought your gaze back to the ground. You didn’t seem to be affected by this situation. You weren’t reacting at all. 

  Simon stared at you, trying to get some idea of what you were feeling. You used to be so easy for him to read. One look and he could tell exactly how you were doing, what you wanted, what you needed. Now? He couldn’t pick up a single thing. You were a true soldier, not letting your emotions show. Not letting your scent show. Is that what you’ve been doing this past year? Training? Away from them? Without them? Why?

  Colonel Green seemed to know you. He’d called you ‘kid’ like the two of you were close. Why did he get the right to see you but Simon and the others didn’t? Why had you stayed away from them? Did you think they’d be mad? Were you scared? What had happened in that building after you left them? Did you get knocked out? Were you captured? Were you forced to run? Have you been recovering for the past year? Maybe you were in a coma?

  Or worse, did you leave them voluntarily? Had you stayed away from them for the past year all in your own will? Did you not want to see them?

  “Screaming isn’t fixing anything!”

  “Maybe if you’d actually bothered to think this through, there wouldn’t be screaming!”

  “Maybe if you’d be an actual professional, there wouldn’t be screaming!”

  “Professional?! Ye want us tae be professional?! A member o’ our pack died! They died! They were dead! We watched them die!”

  “No.”

  The room went silent. The attention was back to you in an instant when you spoke your first words. You looked back up once again, looking between everyone in the room. 

  Your voice was different. Painfully different. It was different in the same way your eyes were. This wasn’t the voice that traded playful remarks with Johnny over comms. This wasn’t the voice that asked Kyle genuine questions about the games he was watching, trying to engage in what he enjoyed. This wasn’t the voice that coaxed John out of his office to make him take a break. This wasn’t the voice that reassured Simon that he was safe and that you loved them. 

  And yet, they still found their hearts skipping a beat when you spoke. It’d been so long since they heard you in real life. Sure, they heard your voice when they watched back videos. Those stupid videos you always insisted on making to ‘capture the moment’. You laughed from behind the camera, explaining what was going on as you all ate dinner, or explaining what you had all decided to do for vacation, or talking about what it is that Johnny had made the group watch. 

  You always had a way of bringing them back to the moment. Even after being gone for a year, you could still do it without even trying to.

  “...what d’ye mean, ‘no’?” Johnny asked. He had nearly forgotten you were in the room. You were so quiet. You were never so quiet. 

  You sighed, uncrossing your arms and pushing yourself off the wall.

  “I mean ‘no’. You didn’t ‘watch me die’. You were locked in a room.”

  “That- That ain’t- We heard-”

  “Well, you heard wrong.” 

  Your tone was so flat. You still showed no true emotion. You’d interrupted Johnny. Interrupted him. You had never interrupted him. You always let him talk. You always let him get his thoughts out. 

  For only the second time in his life, Johnny was speechless. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to react. He couldn’t shout. Not at you. He wanted to shout. He wanted to scream. He wanted to break shit. But not around you. He couldn’t around you.

  “You heard wrong, and I didn’t die. I’m here, and there’s a job to do, a pretty damn important one. So, we could either sit around here and keep screaming at each other like a bunch of babbling idiots, or we could get our shit together and focus on the task at hand. It’s up to you.” 

  You’d walked forward, standing next to the Colonel on the other side of the table. Away from them. On the opposite side as them. You stood there stiff. You stared at them with nothing in your eyes. No adoration. No love. Just business. That’s what you were now. You were just business. Focused.

  Simon remembered a time when he was like that. Even after joining the pack, he was still like that. It wasn’t until you had come along that he finally felt like he could fully relax. He had an omega, and he could keep them safe. They were safe. He could let himself rest at night with you in his arms.

  Seeing a past version of him reflected on you hurt more than he could ever describe. How had this happened? Where did they go wrong? Who hurt you so badly that this was who you now were? Why didn’t you come to them to heal instead of closing yourself off? Had they ever done anything to make you think they couldn’t? He couldn’t think of anything they’d done. 

  He doesn’t understand you, and it kills him. He always understood you. He always knew you. He knew that you always crunched your face up when you didn’t like something but quickly stopped when you realized you were doing it because you didn’t want to insult anyone. He knew that when you were standing around doing nothing you would feel a need to move around somehow because you couldn’t be doing nothing for too long. He knew that you pulled them to bed at night not just to make them rest, but also because you hated sleeping unless at least one of them was next to you.

  He can’t see this ‘new you’ doing any of that. This you isn’t his, and he doesn’t know if you ever will be again. You might be alive, but you’re not back.

  “Ace… how could you-” Kyle had started, his heart currently shattered in two. This wasn’t you. You wouldn’t be focused on work right now, no, you’d be happy. You’d be smiling at them, enthusiastically pulling them into tight hugs and reassuring them that you’d never leave again. That’s what you always did when this happened in his dreams. That’s how this scene was supposed to play out. Not whatever this is. 

  “That’s enough.”

  John didn’t know what had happened to you. He didn’t know how you’d survived. He didn’t know when Laswell had known you were alive. He didn’t know how you managed to stay away from them for so long. 

  But he did know that you were right. There was a mission to do. You weren’t supposed to be the one reminding them that. He was supposed to. He was supposed to be telling you and the others to stop goofing off. To focus. And yet you had reminded them. 

  You were different. Price didn’t know why. But he knew that standing around here and screaming at each other wasn’t going to change whatever had happened. They needed to do this mission. Price needed to see you in action. See if you were as skilled as your file and the Colonel made you out to be. Maybe, just maybe, that could explain something.

  And then, maybe, you’d talk to them. Once this was all done. Maybe.

  John took a deep breath. He had to focus. Get back to the mission.

  “When we leavin’?”

  “You should be ready to leave by 2000. You will wait in the car until we get confirmation from Lieutenant Evans and his men that the man we are looking for is going to the safe house. Once we have it, you will leave. You should get there about thirty minutes after Stone does. Then, you will take the walk. By the time you get in, he should be sleeping.”

  “Understood. Is there anything else?”

  “Price, we cannae just-”

  “Not now, Johnny.” It wasn’t the time. John didn’t look back at Johnny as he shut him down, keeping his gaze on Colonel Green.

  “No, Captain. That is all. As of now, everyone in this room is dismissed.”

  There wasn’t even time to say anything before you started moving, heading straight for the door. No one made a move to stop you.

  You left the room without a glance back at them.

  The car ride to the safehouse was deadly silent. You could hear a pin drop. Soap had tried talking to you a few times, but you ignored him. You didn’t have time for this. There was a mission to focus on, and it needed your full attention. Catching up on past relationships wasn’t important right now. 

  Soap stopped when you had allowed your scent to seep into the air ever so slightly, allowing those in the car to sense your annoyance. They knew you’d done it on purpose, but it worked nonetheless. Soap stopped bothering you, and you ran over the plan in your head a few more times before the car was pulling to a stop.

  You double-checked your gear for the fifth time since leaving before getting out of the car. You checked that the radio was working, responding curtly to Green when he asked if you and the 141 had arrived.

  You took a few steps away from the car before looking back at the group. They were whispering something. You probably should’ve tried to pick up on it, but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to hear their voices any more than you had to.

  You had to focus on the mission. The mission is what is important. Growing close again would throw you off your groove, affect future missions. You couldn’t let that happen. 

  “I’ll stay with the car.” Ghost voice ended the small argument they seemed to be having. He didn’t wait for a response before he got back in the car. It probably wasn’t the best idea. You remembered his driving. He was… he could drive, with the basic meaning of the word. Best way to describe his driving was reckless. He would get from point A to point B, not being quite safe while doing it, but still getting it done.

  But that wasn’t for you to focus on. It was his job in the mission, he could do it how he seemed fit. 

  The other three turned to you. Price nodded, signaling for you to lead the way.

  You knew these woods better than all of them. You’d been surveying out here for the past five weeks, keeping track of everything that happened. You knew when the predators hunted, you knew when the prey scrounged for food. You knew when the animals slept. You knew when the birds sang, where the fish would swim. You knew everything about this area of the woods.

  You also knew everything about that damn house. It’d been your main target. Green had sent you out here after you figured out the organization was hiding out around here. You stalked, hiding high in the trees or low on the ground. You memorized the schedule of everyone in the building. You eavesdropped on as many conversations as you could. You kept them asleep by projecting a calming scent as you snuck through the house, gathering information. 

  You’d set up microphones in the walls the third time you managed to get into the house, which definitely made your job a bit easier. The only time you went in after that was mainly to see if they’d changed the layout or to move around the microphones. 

  The most recent time, however, you had broken the lock on a window in the back of the house. The hallway it was in led straight to the basement. You had lubricated the hinges of the door to make sure it wouldn’t creak. You’d hidden a lockpick so you’d be able to unlock the door in the basement that led outside next time you came around. You had prepared so much for this mission, and you weren’t planning on letting it fail.

  You’d hoped the walk to the halfway point would be silent. However, Soap and 15 minutes of silence could never possibly mix.

  “So, ‘Hawk’, what’s yer life like? Got a special pack?” There was a hint of venom in his voice, but you ignored it. You ignored him. You weren’t here for small talk or arguments. You were here for the mission.

  “Sergeant…” There was Price, that same warning tone as always. It always made you feel guilty before. When it was directed at you, it was normally because you and Soap were hogging comms with meaningless chatter. 

  There was no chatter now though, despite Soap’s ongoing attempt. You saw no need. Before, you had needed it to keep yourself calm. Hearing Soap’s voice helped you get through your part of the mission. Hearing any of their voices helped you get through your part of the mission. Now, however, you didn’t need that. You didn’t need to hear them. In fact, you didn’t even want to hear them. It would only distract. You didn’t need to be distracted.

  “What, Captain? Ah just want tae know more aboot this ‘Hawk’ fella we’re s’possed tae be workin’ wi’.” 

  Soap definitely wasn’t taking all this well. You had never met a beta like him before. Even in the past year away from them, no beta ever reminded you of Soap. For a beta, he was very hot-headed when the time came. Sure, he was soft and kind most of the time (or at least that’s how you remembered him), but when something really pissed him off, it pissed him off. He could probably even be mistaken for an alpha if his scent didn’t give him away. 

  “Especially since, by the looks o’ it, we’ve never met them before. Or at least that’s how they’re treatin’ us.”

  You noticed how Gaz stayed quiet. He hadn’t said anything to you. The last time you heard him talk was in the briefing when he was arguing with Laswell and Green. Ghost was silent as well, but Gaz’s silence was different. With Ghost, you couldn’t quite pinpoint where his silence was coming from. With Gaz, on the other hand, you sensed confusion. Hurt. Pain. He wanted answers, but you weren’t willing to give them.

  You had smelled their scents before they put their blockers on. Price was trying to stay professional, but you could sense the hurt underneath. Soap was just pissed off. Ghost was hiding his scent, suppressing it just like you’ve been doing. Gaz, on the other hand, was all hurt. So confused. You knew he wanted to hold you, but you didn’t let him. The mission needed your focus. 

  “Soap, knock it off.” Price demanded. Soap huffed. Before he could possibly argue, you recognized the marking on the top of the tree.

  “We’re halfway.” You stopped walking, turning back to the group. They froze for a moment. It was the first words they’d heard from you directed towards them since the briefing. “One of you stays here and goes over to watch the road. Stay on the lookout for any cars. There shouldn’t be anyone coming this way at this time.”

  “What about other cars from the organization?” Price asked. You shook your head.

  “No. Not unless something happens. They like their sleep.”

  “What aboot ye, Hawk, ye like yer sleep? How dae ye sleep? Yer bed comfortable? Mebbe a bit empty?” 

  Soap couldn’t come with. He was too upset to take the mission seriously.

  “Stop it, Mactavish, that’s enough.” Soap turned his head to Price, about to argue.

  “You should stay back.” Soap’s head whipped back to you, the confusion on his face evident. “If you can’t be professional, you shouldn’t come to the house. It’ll only slow us down.”

  “Ye think ah cannae remain professional? What’s professional aboot not talkin’ to yer team members? What's professional aboot projectin’ yer scent to shut ‘em up? Think it's professional tae-”

  “I said that’s enough, Sergeant.” Price was angry now, but not at you. His anger seemed to be directed at Soap. Maybe he thought Soap was doing too much. That he might hurt your feelings. Or maybe he wanted Soap to stop out of fear of ruining chances of reconciliation. That wouldn’t be happening, even if all four of them wanted it. You weren’t planning on building a bond again.

  Maybe he was trying to focus on the mission. That’s what needed to happen. You all needed to focus, and petty arguments weren’t going to help.

  “You’ll stay back, just like they said.” Soap seemed like he wanted to argue, similar to how that one Sergeant had been during the briefing after hearing what his team’s job was. However, just like the Sergeant, Soap didn’t argue. Soap wasn’t going to argue with Price. You could tell he wanted to keep being petty, but he knew they still had a mission to get through. 

  Soap gave a curt nod to Price, unsuccessfully trying to hide the small glare creeping onto his face before turning and walking in the direction of the road, preparing to do the job you had described. 

  With that, you turned and kept walking, not wanting to waste any more time. 

  Price and Gaz didn’t try to start conversation with you in the 15-minute walk. They didn’t even talk to each other. Before, you would’ve felt awkward about the silence. You would’ve filled it with your own talking, ranting about whatever you could think of. Now, however, you kept your mouth shut. Talking wasn’t needed to complete the mission right now. Even if it had felt awkward, you wouldn’t have talked. Not to them. You couldn’t. 

  It wasn’t allowed.

  Soon enough, you were at the treeline near the house. You looked ahead, seeing the window you were planning on sneaking in. You focused for a minute, trying to catch the scent in the air. 

  It was coming from the rooftop. You looked up to see two men quietly talking. They weren’t really paying attention, but you didn’t want to risk it. You didn’t make a move until you saw them move to the other side of the house. 

  You shook your head with a scoff under your breath. The organization was far too confident. They thought they had nothing to worry about, so they didn’t take their security seriously. Those two on the roof were meant to be lookouts, but they were just chatting away and not even actually checking when they were looking out. It was foolish, but it did make your job a bit easier. Not that you would treat it as if it were any easier.

  You took a deep breath before quietly moving and taking off your gun, handing it over to the closest person to you, which happened to be Price. He looked at you confused.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I need to be silent. Having that on won’t help me.”

  “You can’t go in there without a weapon. It’s not safe.”

  “Give it to me when I let you in.”

  “You need a weapon.”

  “I have one.” 

  You didn’t leave room for any more argument before you were quickly moving out into the open, forcing Price to stop his argument so he wouldn’t draw attention to you. There wasn’t time to argue about something so stupid. You’d done this tons of times, you weren’t going to stop just because Price was worried. This wasn’t the time to be worried, not when there was a mission to get through.

  You moved quickly and quietly to the side of the house. Once there, you pushed your back against the wall and squatted down, slowly moving over to the window. You lifted your hand only slightly, grabbing the very edge of the window to avoid your hand being seen from the inside. You listened intently for a moment before slowly opening the window ever so slightly. 

  You then focused on scent, trying to recognize if there was anyone in the hallway you were about to go into. You didn’t smell anyone, so you slowly opened the window a bit more. You heard a few footsteps on the roof and paused, glancing up. You were covered by the overhang of the roof, you’d be fine. However, you didn’t want to risk them hearing you climb in, so you waited until the footsteps stopped on a different side of the house before opening the window even wider and sliding in.

  John and Kyle watched you from the treeline. John held your gun, still not liking the idea of you going in there without it. Sure, you had your combat knife and a pistol, but the weapon he’s holding is the one that you can do the real damage with. The Colonel did mention you’d get them through without needing to fire a shot, but what if something went wrong? What if you got caught? What if you got cornered and a pistol wasn’t enough? Would he and Kyle be able to get there in time before you were hurt? He couldn’t let you get hurt. Not you.

  John knew you were different. He didn’t know why, but he knew you were. Even just from the briefing, he knew you’d changed drastically. And watching you sneak into the house right now further proved it. You never would’ve been able to do that before. 

  Or maybe you could’ve. Maybe the only reason he thought that was because he didn’t see you trying. He didn’t see you trying because he never let you do this kind of thing. Was that why you’d stayed away this past year? Did you think he and the others held you back? Did you stay away from them so you could build your skills? Did you leave them for the past year so you wouldn’t have to deal with them trying to protect you? Did you hate them for that?

  “They’re good,” Kyle whispered to John, snapping John from his thoughts.

  John nodded.

  “They definitely are.”

  He watched you pause and smell for scents before going in. You were so… professional. That was the best way to describe it. You knew what you were doing, and you moved with a purpose. You did everything with a purpose. You hadn’t spoken a word to them when it wasn’t needed. You didn’t fill the walk with pointless talk like you would’ve in the past. You spoke when you had to in order to complete the mission. 

   John knew Johnny wasn’t taking this well. In the few hours before leaving, the beta had been storming around the pack house before Kyle managed to calm him down. Johnny was not happy about all of this. He wasn’t happy with John either, not appreciating how his alpha refused to let him try and get answers. He didn’t seem happy with you. You had shot him down at every turn whenever he tried to bond with you. It was as if you didn’t care about the bond you and the pack ever had in the past.

  But John knew that wasn’t the case. And he knew that Johnny knew deep down it wasn’t the case as well. But Johnny was still going to be angry. The petty comments would continue, and John would have to keep shutting them down, or you’d end up projecting your scent again.

  That was definitely a new skill of yours. Sure, you’d projected your scent in the past, but only in private. And you were only ever able to do it very softly before it took too much out of you. You’d done it a few times to try and calm people down, and John had seen how it affected you. He shut it down, telling you not to do it anymore out of fear of what it was doing to your body. 

  Now, however, you did it so easily. You’d projected your annoyance to the group without breaking a sweat, and it definitely worked. Johnny was too uncomfortable with the feeling of making an omega annoyed, so he shut up, and if he hadn’t, the others would’ve shut him up in an attempt to get rid of the smell in the air. How many times have you used your scent like that in the past year? You had to get good at it somehow, and you’ve obviously been on a lot of missions in the past year. You had to have been in order to build up a file as good as yours. Had you used your scent to your advantage in those missions? Did it exhaust you in the beginning? Why’d you start doing it? How’d you start doing it? 

  You were an omega. Omegas were never seen as threats. They normally stayed away from the military. If they did join, they didn’t get far before leaving to join a pack or pursue a different career. When omegas left, it was no big deal. No one expected them to get very far in the first place. John had only met a few omegas who stuck with the military, and they normally were in the medical field. Nurses or medics. 

  You were different. The first time John met you was on a mission. He had smelled omega in the air before you put on your scent blockers. It was a mission where he was put in charge of about 10 other soldiers. He had thought you were just a medic tagging along, but when you got fully geared up, he realized he was wrong. You were great with a gun, it was the only thing you used throughout the mission. Not an expert like him or the other members of the Task Force, but still pretty great. You stayed at the back during fights, which some people saw as being cowardly. However, with the way you continuously popped up from behind your cover to try and help the unit, Price knew what the others thought wasn’t the case.

  You also didn’t let things get to you. Throughout that mission, John heard a few of the other soldiers shit-talking you in regards to you being an omega. You had simply ignored them. Then, later that day when it was time for dinner, you had shared some of your food with one of them as if nothing happened. You’d done it with a smile on your face.

  That was when John knew that he needed you on his team. Not because of your shooting, or your smarts, or your combat. It was your smile. The way you smiled at a man who said such rude things about you despite having heard every word. He couldn’t let you go. Not when you could be going to another team that would say things just as rude purely due to your designation. Not when he wanted you to stay near him, not so he could force you into his pack and get you to retire, but so he could give you an environment where you could thrive at your work and not be dealing with alphas and betas who refused to take you seriously.

  John started working on getting you on his team the second he got back. He couldn’t exactly tell command he wanted you on his team because you smiled, so he told them the team could use someone different. He also told them that you had potential, which was true. He spent about an hour or two trying to convince them. Someone accused him of just wanting you to be his pack’s omega and he shot that down. He didn’t want you because of that, it was your ability to face someone cruel and still choose to be good. He needed someone like that on the team.

  Of course, now, a few years after that, John realizes he did want you to join the team with hopes of you joining his pack. Then, he couldn’t admit that to himself. But now? He knows that was the case and wouldn’t be able to deny it if he tried.

  Laswell probably knew at the time, even if he didn’t realize it. When he was talking to her and explaining the situation, she was looking at him with a ‘do you think I’m stupid’ type of look. He had ignored it, telling her the same reasons he told everyone else. Despite probably knowing, Laswell didn’t say anything. She read over your file, commenting how she didn’t see anything that made you stand out for the Task Force. There was nothing that qualified you to be considered. However, she must’ve known John’s unconfessed intentions, because she pulled strings on her end to get you on the team.

  John remembers feeling so relieved. He didn’t know why he was relieved, but he was. He lied to himself, saying he was just relieved because another person would make missions easier to complete. But deep down, even then, a part of him knew it was more than that. A part of him was relieved to have an omega around him. His alpha was relieved at the thought that he’d be able to protect this omega. 

  But he’d failed at that. He failed at protecting you, and for the past year, he thought you were dead. You had to have gone through so much in the past year, and that was his fault. He was to blame. He didn’t keep you safe. The omega he pulled onto his team, let into his life, and swore to himself to protect. He failed you. And now… you were different. 

  “Open.” Your voice came over comms. When John looked up, he saw the cellar doors open ever so slightly before shutting. 

  “They in, doors’re unlocked,” Kyle said. 

  John could hear the relief they both felt in Kyle’s voice. Sure, John had read through your file. He saw how skilled you were, but it was still strange and confusing to him that the file was talking about you. 

  He remembered how your file looked when he first got you on the team. It didn’t have much on it aside from test scores and a few missions. Your current file, however, was filed with field experience and a long list of classified missions. How have you done all that in the past year?

  “Followin’ your lead, Captain,” Kyle said, his voice going back to his usual tone when they were on missions.   John nodded, carefully putting your weapon on his back. He glanced up, checking for the lookouts. When he didn’t see them, he nodded to Kyle and the two quickly moved forward to the cellar door. John opened it quietly as Kyle climbed in. John followed right behind, shutting the cellar doors behind him.

  You came up behind Price once they were both in and put the lock back around the handles. You didn’t actually lock it, but you made it look like it was locked, holding it still for a moment before slowly pulling away to make sure it didn’t fall off. 

  Price handed you your weapon and you swung it on your back, not giving it much mind. Instead, you pulled out your combat knife from the pocket on your chest. You couldn’t use the gun in this house. The second you did, your presence would be made known. The knife was your best bet to keep this mission going well. You pulled out your pistol, double-checking that it was still loaded in the case where you’d need to use it. After doing so, you put it back in its holster before nodding towards Gaz and Price, motioning for them to follow you as you walked forward.

  You saw the small moment where Price wanted to protest as you got to the basement door. He didn’t want to let you go first. You didn’t give him the chance to speak before you opened the door quietly and poked your head out. 

  You took in the smell of the air, trying to pinpoint where people were in the building. There seemed to be about three people in the living room, which was towards the front of the house. Luckily, the stairs that you needed to take to get to the Stone’s room were closer to the back. 

  You’d argued about doing the mission on your own with Colonel Green. You probably would’ve been able to. You would’ve been able to carry the Stone out and simply avoid the other people in the house, but Green had said he didn’t want to risk it. So, you begrudgingly agreed to being on a team with people.

  When Laswell called you and told you that she wanted you to work with the 141, you were not willing. You didn’t want to see them again. They’d distract you. And then there’d be all the questions, all the talking. All the feelings. It wasn’t something you wanted to do. You’d argued for about an hour before Laswell finally put her foot down.

  You were even more upset when Laswell and Green told you you’d have to show your face. That wasn’t something you’d agree to at all. You covered your face for a reason. The deep scar that stretched across the bottom half of your face was something you didn’t want to ever acknowledge again. You didn’t even look at your face. You avoided mirrors. You hated your reflection and what looked back at you whenever you weren’t wearing your stupid face mask. It was a reminder of your weakness, something you never planned on showing again.

  You didn’t want to show the task force your face. You didn’t want them to question. You didn’t want them to react. Would they pity you? Would they be angry? Would they be unable to look? Would they think you were ugly? Would their memory of you be scorned? Would they hate you?

  A part of you knew you shouldn’t care. They weren’t part of you anymore. Who cares if they hated you? That wasn’t your problem. It’s not like they’re still your pack or anything. You don’t need them anyway. You don’t need a pack. 

  And no one in the world got to see your face. Not anymore. And that includes your old pack.

  So you had stormed out of the room, never once agreeing with Laswell or Green to lower the mask. You didn’t want them to know it was you. They’d want to talk. To bond. However, when Laswell had used that tone, you knew she was done with you refusing. You didn’t want to get into any disciplinary trouble, so you had reluctantly taken off your hood.

  They recognized you. A part of you had hoped they wouldn’t. That would’ve made the mission much easier. You could get through, not say a word. The mission would be over and they’d be none the wiser, still under the impression that you were dead and buried. The way you wanted them to think. You obviously didn’t get what you wanted.

  A part of you, the part you’d been keeping buried for so long, thought about doing things differently. Thought about running up to them the minute they walked into the room. Their scents were overwhelming, so familiar and yet so unknown. You stood still and focused on them while Green had talked, taking in every little thing you’d spent the past year missing. 

  But you weren’t allowed to miss them. You were a soldier. You had to focus on the mission.

  Right. The mission.

  You took yourself out of your thoughts, realizing you were actively walking and leading Price and Gaz down the hallway. Taking a left, you ducked down as you guys crept through the kitchen, making sure you all wouldn’t be seen through the back door. 

  It was going well until you smelled a scent approaching. You quickly held up your hand, stopping the crawl through the kitchen on one side of the island. You’d contemplated going back the way you came, but you wouldn’t have gotten out of the kitchen in time. So, you stayed still, keeping your hand raised to tell the two to stay quiet. 

  Someone came down the stairs and walked into the room. An alpha. They smelled like tires and coal with a hint of gasoline. They were relaxed, casually walking on the other side of the island to get to the fridge with no knowledge of the three intruders in the kitchen, the scent suppressors that Price and Gaz were wearing working wonders.

  You didn’t have one. The control you had over your scent made it so you could suppress it automatically. If you did wear one, then you’d lose your advantage of projecting your scent to make your enemies vulnerable. Which is what you are doing right now.

  Very lightly, you let out the scent of fear. You heard the alpha freeze. Nobody liked the scent of an omega fear, especially an alpha. They’d want the scent gone. Some would comfort, others would try and stomp it out.

  This one wouldn’t live long enough for you to find out what type he was.

  The alpha started approaching the island slowly, now having a hint of curiosity and concern in his scent. You saw Price and Gaz tense up, ready for a fight. They raised their guns, not looking much at you as they started to move forward. 

  You rolled your eyes slightly. They fire those things and the whole operation is a bust. You shook your head at them, motioning for them to get back against the island. Price didn’t seem entirely willing to listen, but Gaz did when he saw the look on your face.

  Price started to stand up. You were running out of time before Price would give away your position. You stopped letting out your fear, worrying that it was messing with him and clouding his judgment. You could handle this. You knew what you were doing. You wouldn’t lure him over here if you thought a gunfight was going to need to happen. 

  You replaced the fear with a sort of pleading. This made Price pause. 

  Then, you were able to take your shot. 

  The alpha started to turn around the island and you quickly stood up, combat knife in hand as you threw your hand over his mouth and stabbed him in the neck. You moved too quickly for the alpha to react. His eyes widened as he tried to call out for help with his voice but your hand stopped him. 

  You pulled the knife out and quickly stabbed him on both sides of his neck where his scent glands were, stopping him from projecting his scent and alerting the others in the house about the danger. Then, life drained from his eyes and he started to slump forward. You allowed this, sitting down as you held his body, quickly taking the cover of the island to hide from the back door once again.

  You quickly pulled the alpha’s jacket off, wrapping it around his neck to try and stifle the heavy scent of blood in the air. You wiped your hands off on the jacket as well so the blood wouldn’t be smelled as the three of you kept going through the house. Now, you just had to hide the body for at least ten minutes.

  You glanced around and your eyes landed on the pantry. You nodded to yourself before looking over to the two next to you, motioning for Price to grab the alpha’s legs and for Gaz to open the pantry door.

  Kyle didn’t know if he was horrified or turned on. He’d seen death before, obviously. He’d been the cause of death before. And he’s seen you shoot people before, but that was always from afar. He had never before seen you with blood on your hands. On missions, you always stood back and fought with a gun. Sure, it was your best weapon, but Kyle knew there was more to it. He knew it was so you didn’t have to get anywhere near the actual person. So you didn’t have to feel their blood splattering onto you like blood typically did in close combat. He understood a part of you hated blood, never willing to touch any of the pack when they had blood on their clothes.

  And yet… here you were. You acted so… efficiently. Like you’d done this hundreds of times before. How many people have you done that to this past year? How many other alphas have you gotten rid of? It had to be a lot. You did it so effortlessly. The only thing you seemed to stress about was if he and John would act.

  A part of Kyle wishes he did. He wishes he had blown the mission. Then, he wouldn’t have had to see you do that. He wouldn’t have had to have the image of your innocence killed so brutally. You hit that alpha’s scent glands with the precision of an expert. You wrapped his jacket around his neck without any hesitation. You moved with a purpose, and everything you did had a reason. It was so different from how he once knew you. You’re an expert now, unlike before when Kyle had gotten used to having to help you learn.

  When you looked back at him and John, his heart stopped for a moment. You made solid, full eye contact with him. You hadn’t done that yet. Sure, your eyes would meet his in quick glances, but you looking at him for over a second? That hadn’t happened yet. He hadn’t seen that in a year.

  And sure, there was no look of care like there might’ve been before. There was no love in that look. Obviously there wouldn’t be, you’d just killed a guy and you were trying to get help with hiding the body. But you still looked at him. You looked at him.

  When John started moving, Kyle did as well. As John grabbed the man’s legs and helped you quietly carry the man to the pantry, Kyle opened it and moved things around to make some room. 

  You walked backward into the pantry, maneuvering the man so his back was against the wall before letting him sink to the ground. Then, you stepped over his legs to exit. You turned around, wiping your knife on his pants leg to get rid of some of the blood.

  Kyle and John squatted down again as you did, taking a quick glance at the backdoor and feeling lucky that the guard out back wasn’t really trying to actually guard. He hadn’t seen a thing.

  When you turned back, you had a bit of blood on your neck from when you’d stabbed his scent glands. Your mask hid the blood that had splattered there well due to its black color, but there were still small specks of blood on your face.

  Kyle wanted nothing more than to reach forward and wipe the blood off. However, you didn’t let him think on that thought twice before shutting the pantry and continuing to move through the house.

  Kyle and John followed behind you as you kept moving like you hadn’t just killed someone. In the past, you’d have needed a second before continuing. That’s why John didn’t let you come on missions where enemy interaction was unavoidable. He’d tell you to stay back while they went ahead. Help them out over comms by guiding them through the building they were in or letting them know if enemies were approaching.

  Kyle knew that was only part of the reason John had you stay back. He told command it was what you were best at. You’d do more once you had more training. 

  The main reason, however, was concern for your safety. It was always out of concern for your safety. After all, you were their omega, it was only natural for him to want to keep you safe. 

  Every other military pack whose omegas were also in the military did it. They’d give their omegas the safest job on a mission, even if their omega was better qualified for something else. Sure, it wasn’t ‘technically’ allowed, but no one said anything. Command accepted the excuses that were made, even though they knew the real reason. They wouldn’t tell a pack what to do with their omega. Most of command was fine with omegas staying back, still having the stereotypical belief that omegas were too weak for the more dangerous aspects of the job. 

  None of the team ever held this belief. They knew you were strong, but they still wanted to keep you safe. They didn’t want you to have to use your strength. Not when there were moments where you flinched at unexpected gunfire. Not when you always hesitated to pull the trigger till the last second. Making you use your strength didn’t keep you safe. They had to keep you safe. At least until you could handle yourself better on the field.

  What was hitting John was the fact that you truly didn’t need them to keep you safe right now. You were able to handle yourself perfectly fine. Better than fine. You had just taken that alpha down without any help. You’d been trying to stop them from helping, and you did. When he recognized the pleading scent in the air, he froze. That was vulnerability directed towards him. It wasn’t like the fake fear you were putting in the air to lure the alpha. It was meant for him. Even if it was fake, you still did it for him. He’d gone so long without having your scent being there for him, so when he finally had it again, he froze. An experienced military captain like him froze. Sure, it was only for a split second, but it still happened. No one had ever managed to make him do that. And yet you did. And you had meant to.

  The second he froze, you took action. You only needed that split second. You’d stopped him from attacking the alpha and giving away the position, so you had pulled back your scent entirely. And then you attacked. And John could only sit and watch as you did something he could never have seen you doing.

  And then you kept moving after it. And now you were all approaching the bedroom that you say the man is in. You turn back to them.

  “Stay out here. If you hear someone starting to come up, come in and do it silently.” 

  You didn’t elaborate before opening the door. The target was lying on the bed, passed out. His scent was in the air. It was similar to the earlier alpha, sharing that same scent of tire. He had a smell of gasoline as well, but it was much heavier. There was also smoke. He smelled… dangerous. And you knew he was.

  Christopher Stone. He had been responsible for several attacks on military personnel across the country. He wasn’t the head of this organization, but he was definitely an important part of it. Taking him back and questioning him could finally reveal the reason for everything the organization had been doing. What their true motive was. 

  Why they did everything they did to you.

  You projected a calming scent before taking another step towards him. It would keep him asleep. It was in an alpha’s nature to feel more relaxed when an omega was calm. So, if the floor were to creak, it’s less likely he’d wake up. 

  Of course, you watched your steps very carefully, so no creaks would be happening. Whenever you stepped on a floorboard that felt a bit too wrong, you moved to another. Soon enough, you were right next to the bed.

  Here’s where keeping him relaxed really helped. He didn’t wake up when he heard the quiet sound of something unzipping. He didn’t wake up when he felt the bed shift. He only woke up when you were on top of him, but by that point, it was too late. You already had the syringe going into his neck. You were already injecting the fast-acting paralyzing agent. You already had your hand covering his mouth and had a towel across his neck, covering his scent glands and stopping him from projecting his scent for help. 

  You injected the drug in less than half a second before tossing the syringe to the other side of the bed. You moved your free hand to his neck, pushing down to keep the towel there. He lifted his waist in an attempt to sit up, but you put all your strength into pushing him down. He tried kicking his legs and swinging his arms to get you off, but you took the hits without a flinch. He tried peeling your hand off his mouth, but you were stronger. He tried pulling off the towel, but you were still stronger.

  After about three seconds, the drug was already kicking in. His movements slowed rapidly, and after another five seconds, he was limp. His eyes stared up at you, a glare set on them as you lifted yourself slightly, removing your hand from his mouth. 

  His glare didn’t affect you. You kept moving, pulling out another syringe with a drug to knock him out. You saw his eyes widen before you pushed the new syringe into the other side of his neck. He couldn’t do anything but watch as you injected the drug and then got off of him, grabbing the other syringe and pulling the needle off of both of them. You put the needles inside a tiny plastic case, something they wouldn’t be able to stab through when you put them back into the small bag on your hip. You put the syringes in a plastic bag together before putting them back in the bag as well. 

  As Stone passed out, you quietly went back to the door, opening it and motioning for Price and Gaz to come in. 

  Kyle was surprised at how quickly you had managed to knock out the target. When he heard the door open, he was half expecting to see the target there and you in the background, dead on the ground. 

  Luckily, that didn’t happen. You opened the door and stepped aside so he and John could go inside. They quickly did so, looking to the bed. There was the target, passed out. You’d done it, and you hadn’t even needed their help. 

  Kyle was a bit confused as to why they were here in the first place. You’d gotten through the house without trouble. You’d killed that alpha downstairs without trouble. You knocked out the target without trouble. You didn’t need them. If anything, them coming along puts you at more risk of being caught. It was easier to notice three people sneaking around the house instead of one. 

  “One of you grab him and then follow a few seconds behind me. I’m going to make sure they still don’t know we’re here.”

  “I’m going to make sure they don’t stop thinking it’s only someone.”

  Kyle hated that. He hated hearing those words ‘I’m going to make sure’. Anytime anyone at the time had said it the past year he’d stop them from doing whatever they were doing, even if it was just something as simple as making sure the food wasn’t burning. It was an automatic response at this point. He had to stop them because he hadn’t been able to stop you.

  He quickly stepped out, grabbing your arm.

  “I got it, Ace, you don’t have to.”

  It was an accident. He hadn’t meant to let your old code name slip, but he did. When he’d thought of the sentence in his head, he used ‘Hawk’. But that felt so wrong. It felt beyond wrong. You weren’t a hawk. You weren’t some haunting predator. You were their Ace. Their lucky Ace, always getting them through their missions and making them come out on top. Not a hawk.

  But you didn’t like it. Kyle saw that from the flash of bitterness on your face when he said it. He didn’t understand why it was there. You never hated when they called you Ace before. You smiled when they called you the name outside of missions. You laughed when they’d tease you with it, and blush when they reminded you of the reasoning. 

  There was none of that now. You pulled your arm out of Kyle’s grip. You didn’t do it harshly, but just the action of pulling away from him made Kyle feel like someone had just stabbed him in the gut. His hand now felt empty, having held you for only a moment before you were ripped away from him.

  “No. One of you needs to watch the other’s back.” 

  Once again, you left no room for argument, moving out of the room before Kyle could say anything. He stared at the open doorway as you moved out of his sight, frozen. 

  You had pulled away from him. You hadn’t listened to him. You left him. 

  It was exactly what you did to the others the day he lost you.

  He couldn’t move, feeling as lost as he did that day. He felt such regret over that day, knowing he was the only one who didn’t say anything to you. He didn’t try to stop you. He didn’t get to say goodbye. He’d been frozen, just like he was now. He only talked when you were gone. How could he do that? How could he not say a thing to you? Did you leave thinking he didn’t care? How could he let you think that? How could he just sit there and not try anything? How could he only talk once you were gone? What kind of packmate was he?

  The only thing that unfroze him was the feeling of John’s hand on his shoulder. He was pulled back to the present as he looked over, feeling so hurt and confused.

  Kyle’s face showed his hurt and confusion. It made John want to hold him. Reassure him everything was alright. You’d come back around.

  But now wasn’t the time. There was still the mission, and you didn’t seem like you were willing to let them take a quick mental health break. They didn’t have time.

  “Pick him up, Gaz, I’ll watch your six,” John instructed, lightly pushing Kyle towards the bed. He watched as his beta stood still for a moment more before managing to get out of his own head, walking over to the bed, and throwing the target over his shoulders.

  A part of John wanted to be relieved that Kyle was moving. Kyle had been frozen like that lots of times in the past year, stuck in his head as he thought about the final moments they had with you. He brought up his self-doubt a few times in the most recent group therapy sessions. The group had fully accepted your death about four months ago. About a month after that, their group therapist suggested that they all talk about how they felt when it happened. Most of the talk had been about how they were feeling towards each other, but the therapist thought their acceptance would be a good time to change the talk and address other issues.

  John remembers the anger he felt when Kyle had first called himself a bad beta. How could he possibly think that? How could John have let Kyle think that for so long without realizing what was going through his head?

  He knew Simon was upset at himself as well. So was Johnny. They were all upset with themselves. How could any of them have been so selfish to not realize what the others were going through? To focus only on themselves while the others were suffering so greatly?

  John finally understood why Kyle was freezing up at times during that session. It was because he was playing the scene of you leaving them back in his head, imagining all the different things he could’ve done. John always did his best to snap him back to the present. Luckily, he’d done that pretty easily this time.

  Despite how easily he did it, he couldn’t feel the relief he wanted to. Not when he could tell that Kyle was still shaken. Not when he no longer had eyes on you.

  The second Kyle was by the door, John was ready to move. To get you in his sights again. However, when they stepped outside, you weren’t there.

  John and Kyle felt an intense sense of panic when they didn’t see you in the hallway waiting for them. They couldn’t smell you either. They didn’t hear anything. You hadn’t been killing another alpha. You hadn’t been in a fight. What if you were caught? Were you hurt? Were you dead? Not again, you couldn’t be dead again. That wouldn’t be fair, they just found you again. They still needed to work on winning you back.

  Their fears were put on hold when you poked your head around the corner, giving them a small gesture to tell them it was safe to move forward. They were pulled back to the mission and quickly listened to what you had said, moving forward and following behind you as you made sure the path was clear. 

  John kept looking behind, not wanting someone to sneak up on the group while Kyle was busy carrying the target. They’d be vulnerable, more vulnerable than they already were by being in enemy territory. It wouldn’t end well, especially since whoever it was would be able to alert everyone else in the base before Price or you would be able to take them down. 

  Luckily, they didn’t need to worry about any of that. You got them through the house with ease, using the scents in the air to tell when it would be safe to move forward and when it wouldn’t be. After about two minutes, the three of you, with the target on Kyle’s shoulders, got back to the basement.

  John knew you were planning on leaving first. He didn’t try to say anything to stop you this time. Instead, he quickly moved forward past you, getting to the exit before you and opening it quietly. He stuck his head out first, forcing you to fall back and wait for his signal that told you and Kyle it was good to move forward.

  John didn’t have as strong of a sense of smell as you. You were always more sensitive when it came to that thing, something the guys tried to accommodate for you. They’d spritz themselves with a bit of scent blocker, not fully blocking their scent but making it less intense so you weren’t constantly scrunching up your nose whenever one of them started to feel a bit more passionately. It was another reason John had you stay behind on missions, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable due to the intense smells that would be wherever they were going.

  Your sense of smell was why you’d been going first throughout all of this. You had the easiest way to check if the coast was clear, especially since no one in this building was holding their scent due to their guard being up. The people in this building thought they were safe. They’d been foolish.

  Due to not having a sense of smell like yours, John mainly relied on his hearing. He listened for the talking of the two men on the rooftop. He listened for their footsteps. When he heard their talking move further away along with their footsteps, he took it as the chance to act. He motioned to you and Kyle before quickly climbing out. 

  John stood by the door as you and Kyle pushed the target up to him. John took the target and picked him up, throwing him over one of his shoulders as he ushered you and Kyle out of the basement. You shut the doors behind the three of you before you all quickly moved for the cover of the trees. 

  Once back in the trees, John went to his radio. 

  “Ghost, start driving towards Soap.”

  With the mission being almost over, the pack could now redirect their focus to you. 

  Now came the hard part.

[burningember0802]

Three's Company Ch. 2

Pairing: Robby x Abbot x Reader

Warnings: sexual content (nothing super explicit but gets more than PG13), cursing (let me know if I forget anything else!)

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: I'm so glad that people are liking the first chapter! Luckily I had time this week to go ahead and crank out the second one, hopefully y'all like it! Would you guys want some kind of taglist for this fic or masterlist of all the chapters as this fic goes on?? I'm planning on having it be a slow burn of sorts, not quite sure how long it'll end up being yet.

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

You quickly got lost in your work as you jumped into the shift, your issue with the two attendings pushed to the back of your mind. You went about your shift as normal, working quickly and efficiently, making your way from patient to patient. You were quick on your feet, much quicker than most expected you to be, especially on your first day, not letting the new environment affect you. Throughout the day you felt Robby’s eyes on you though, not allowing the issue to fully leave your mind. You caught him looking at you a couple times while you were working and when you two were on a case together he had a certain look in his eyes as he watched and spoke to you that gave you a fluttering feeling in your stomach. You tried to brush it off in your head as him just observing you on your first day and getting a feel for you as a doctor. 

Robby was impressed with you as he watched you throughout the shift. He noticed the way you were quick on your feet, quick to analyze the situation and assess the best options. You were good with patients too, having a charming and soft demeanor that put patients at ease while still showing that you were confident in what you were doing. He couldn’t help the way his eyes kept falling to your figure throughout the shift. He was observing your skills as a new resident but it was deeper than that. He couldn’t help but analyze the way you interacted with your coworkers in the ER, with him. He had a gnawing feeling in his stomach the whole shift as he was nervous about the situation between him, his boyfriend, and you. He didn’t want the one night between the three of you to cause you to want to leave the Pitt before you really even started, especially now that he saw your skills. He wanted to keep you on here, make you comfortable, and be professional about the whole situation. He couldn’t help but also want to get to know you better, to feel drawn towards you, just like he and Jack had been that first night. Robby quickly pushed those thoughts out of his mind, not letting himself linger on the idea of getting to know you better outside of a work setting, believing that’s something you would never want.

The shift went by quickly due to the constant rotation of patients in the ER. The constant flow of patients kept you busy, leaving little room for breaks, but you still managed to get some small talk with your coworkers throughout the day. You wanted to make a good impression on everyone, show them your skills, maybe make some friends. You quickly clicked with Dr. Mel King and Dr. Samira Mohan especially. You and Mel quickly became friendly as you discussed the struggles of working in medicine as neurodivergent people, especially being on the sensitive side. You and Samira quickly bonded over your want to focus on taking care of each patient thoroughly and taking your time with them if needed. The three of you had a lot in common and you ended up working with them frequently throughout the day, allowing for small chatting here and there. Getting to know different people around the ER helped ease your anxiety about being there. 

You were sitting at the nurses station finishing up some charting while shift change was happening when you caught a view of Dr. Abbot walking in out of your peripheral vision. You watched him find Robby before the two of them made their way to a stairwell nearby, disappearing. Robby and Jack walked up the stairwell to their spot on the roof in a comfortable silence. Once reaching the roof they stood shoulder to shoulder looking out at the early morning Pittsburgh skyline. “So how’d it go on the shift with her?” Jack asked, breaking the silence between the two. “It went surprisingly well…she’s really good Jack. She’s quick on her feet, smart, good with patients.” Robby says with a sigh. Jack nods, turning his head to meet his gaze. “Did you say anything to her about…everything?” He questioned. “I talked to her for a second…she made me a coffee without me asking, just handing it to me. She said she had no idea, and of course I told her we didn’t either obviously and that this all isn’t anyone’s fault. Then I told her the three of us could talk more about it together later, figure out how we want to handle it.” Robby explains, meeting Jack’s unwavering gaze. “How’d she react?” Jack asks. “She said she agreed and I told her that obviously while on the clock everything will be strictly professional between the three of us and it’ll be like it never even happened.” Robby explained, his shoulders tense. Jack places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly before moving his hand to run through Robby’s dark hair for a moment, trying to ease his anxiety. “It’ll be fine…I promise…we should probably catch her and plan a time to talk now though before she leaves…get it done sooner rather than later…” Jack says, his voice calm and comforting, anchoring Robby back to reality as he runs his fingers through his hair. Robby’s eyes close softly as he lets out a groan. “I know, I know.” Jack can’t help but smirk at him before pressing a short, soft kiss to his lips. “It’ll be fine babe, we’ll figure it out. Now come on.” He says softly as he pulls away from the kiss, grabbing Robby’s hand and leading him towards the stairwell again. 

The two men walk back onto the bustling ER floor. You sit at the nurses station finishing the last bit of the chart you were working on when your attention’s pulled away. “Hey, you have a minute?” Robby says softly, leaning on the counter above your computer, Jack next to him in the same position. You flick your gaze up to look at the two men in front of you. “Um, yeah, give me just one second to finish and close out this chart.” You say quietly, looking back down to the computer to finish and close out the chart quickly. Then you stand up, wrapping one of your arms around your torso in an attempt at self soothing your anxiety. Jack nods to the empty family room before walking that way with Robby and you right behind him. 

Once the three of you are in the room Jack closes the door, giving your guys some privacy. You stand there with your gaze fixed to the ground, scared to meet the brown eyes of the two men in front of you. “So how do we want to handle this…” Jack says, starting the conversation none of you guys wanted to start. “I don’t know…” You say letting out a sigh. “I definitely didn’t expect the guys I randomly had a threesome with to become my bosses” You say, letting out a bitter chuckle. Robby and Jack could help but chuckle at that too. “Yeah, fuck, neither did we…” Robby says with a chuckle. “I mean I guess the best thing would be to just act like it didn’t happen? I don’t want this to affect how either of you treat me or my work here.” You explain, finally daring to meet their gazes. They both nod as they listen. “I know neither of us want this to affect your work, that’s the last thing we want. No one here even knows Robby and I are together so we should have no problem acting professionally around each other.” Jack explains, trying to ease your worry. “Okay…good…” You say, letting out a sigh. 

Now that it was understood between the three of you that you guys were basically going to act like the weekend didn’t happen you felt a lot better about everything. The three of you stand in a comfortable silence for a moment before Jack speaks up. “You left without saying goodbye this weekend…” Jack says, looking at you, a small smirk on his face. “I-I just don’t normally do the whole one night stand thing or the threesome thing so I guess I kind of panicked when I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep and didn’t know how to deal with the morning after. I thought it would be better to just leave before you guys woke up to make it easier and less awkward on everyone.” You ramble, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment. “That sure worked didn’t it?” Robby says with a laugh. You couldn’t help but laugh because he was right, this was way more awkward than any morning after ever could be. “We were hoping to get to know you better over breakfast, but you left before we could.” Robby continues with a small smirk.

The admission that they wanted to know you more than just a normal one night stand would scared you, terrified you actually. You were never good at people taking a liking to you romantically, being too scared of being vulnerable, of being hurt like you had been in the past, that your first instinct had evolved to shut down and run. This admission on top of the anxiety you had felt all day tipped you over the edge, leading to you reacting before you had much time to really think about it. “Um…I’m sorry…I think we should just keep our relationship strictly professional…” You quickly ramble, averting their gaze the whole time, the floor suddenly being the most interesting thing in the room. “I-I really need to go anyway…” You ramble out before quickly walking out of the room, leaving the two men stunned. 

[the-au-collector]

AHAHDHDEIOWWOWJBFBFNDM

NORTHEAST BASEMENT 1

Thoughts below the cut y’all

Ok so I have been WAITING for an update with Wars and Wild. I want to see them work together. I want to see them TALK. I want to see them set shit on fire.

Ok first of all Jojo’s drawing of a shrine is beautiful once again have to shout out Jojo’s impeccable art

I also like how this acknowledges Wild’s tenaciousness, which yeah is something you need when playing BOTW. There are so many different challenges to overcome with the shrines—you really DO have to just figure it out sometimes.

Also nice to know that Wars did not, in fact, know Wild was also a newbie to true LoZ dungeons when choosing teams. It makes more sense now how he and Time figured out the groups (no doubt if he’d known, we wouldn’t have gotten the groups we did.)

I’m LIVING for the reference to Tears of the Kingdom y’all

RIP Wars who was trying to have a serious conversation, but I guess this shows that Wild tends to deflect conversations with humor.

Also poor Wild—he’s set the bar so low for himself

ART ART ART

Very nice challenge ahead, I can’t wait for them to put their heads together and make their way through it

Wild once again stepping headfirst into danger and having to get yanked out of it by someone else. Hopefully this doesn’t become a pattern.

YES WILD SHOW OFF YOUR SLATE DO IT WILD ANA FBDJWIWLSLFNFKDPWJWBEJFNF GOING FERAL RN Y’ALL

This went far more smoothly than I think any of us were expecting, and genuinely I can’t wait for the next update to see Wild use the Sheikah Slate and show off his out-of-the-box thinking! And of course see more of these two trying to make it through the dungeon as beginners. I really can’t wait to see what Wars is able to bring to the table, since I’m not nearly as familiar with Hyrule Warriors as I am with BOTW.

All art credit, as always, goes to @linkeduniverse

[bewitched-hours]

WOAH hey hi hello, i LOVED ur oneshots of telamon + child!reader and manifestation of wrath!reader, and i was wondering if you could make a part 2 of one of those, you could choose what to make a part 2 of, or you chould choose not to make a part 2 at all lol!

Make sure you get enough sleep and water and dont push yourself too hard!! <33

Y'all are too sweet omg-

But I will gladly do a part 2 on the child!reader with Telamon/Shedletsky since I was technically already kinda asking to be requested for that lol-

Like previously, reader's pronouns are She/Her!

You were terrified when you couldn't find Telamon anywhere. You knew how to take care of yourself for a few days but were absolutely sobbing for him to come back.

Did you do something wrong? Were you being too annoying again?

You weren't exactly given straight answers but what made it worse was when you somehow woke up in a completely different place. Surrounded by strangers.

You were mortified to say the least, screaming and crying the whole time as you tried to scream for 'Papa' which eventually got Shedletsky's attention and boy, was he quick to dash into the room and swoop you up.

At first you wanted to push him away in further panic but he quickly wrapped his wings around you in that familiar embrace that made you calm down almost instantly to look at his face and recognize him.

"Papa!" You'd exclaim with excitement, hugging him tight with your shaking figure while the other survivors began to panic and ask Shed a thousand questions.

Since when was he a dad, how old were you, etc etc...

He took some time to explain the story- leaving out the details about him being Telamon- while you were simply preening his wings as you liked to do.

You weren't sure why the others were calling him by a different name but you didn't bother to ask about it. What mattered most to you right now was that you had your papa back.

007n7 actually kinda offered to help out with you, given he was a dad as well and although you were wary of him, being that he was still a stranger, you accepted your papa's explanation of him being a friend and to please trust him.

Shedletsky knew you were a handful, especially with your stubbornness and distrust. But he was glad when you came around to trusting the other survivors.

You weren't sent with them on rounds often, given that you're only a child. However, you still had a role and when you were sent into a round, you usually stuck with the nearest survivor available. That usually happened to be Shedletsky, 007n7, Elliot or Chance.

You were more of a support, meaning you had different uses for each case.

For your papa, you'd raise feathery shield to protect him and rush ahead while the shield recharged again. You always hoped that he could escape in time as well...

For 007, you'd usually only have to heal him even though he insists he's fine. At that point he already became your uncle as you saw it with how he'd try to both protect you and keep you entertained during rounds so you wouldn't have to be traumatized as much.

With Elliot, you had a habit of healing each other and using your shield to protect him from getting targeted. You have no idea how grateful he is when he sees you nearby at the start of a round...

But with Chance, you practically become a second Elliot with how much he asks for heals and your shield. It's annoying but with the way he entertains you(usually with his gun exploding in his face), you allow his antics and even sometimes dare to call him uncle alongside Elliot and 007.

Sometimes the Spectre would be a little cruel and leave you without any of them outside of rounds. You'd just watch the TV to cheer them on and wait for any of them to get back... Like a lost puppy...

You technically had your own cabin but you never bothered going to it. You felt much safer with your papa after all.

And how you always loved to listen to his slow breathing to keep you calm...

Maybe you were a bit clingy-

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[sydwritess]

Tattoos

Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader

Summary: Lewis is looking to have some of his tattoos touched up before the race, but he can't find anyone. Hearing this, you then offer to do it, having experience. He doubts you at first, but then proceeds to be in love with your work.

First Person POV

Lewis and I have been together for a couple of years now. Things have been going smoothly, even if his world is chaotic sometimes. As a racer, he's always expected to be on top of things, perfect, professional, but there has been times when he's not. But in all reality. Who is?

Right now me and him were in the lobby of some building talking to Charles, waiting for their interview station to get set up.

"What are you thinking for the outfits tonight?" Lewis asked Charles.

"I have some in mind." Charles said smirking.

"Mate, you better not make me look like a fool now." Charles said smiling.

"I won't I won't." Charles said laughing.

"I'm trying to get in to someone to see if they can touch up my tattoos before the shoot. Want to look fresh and all you know." Lewis said, looking down at his hands.

"Does anybody take walk ins anymore?" Charles asked.

Lewis shook his head. "No, that's why I'm hoping someone can fit me in but... it's a lot." He said. I looked up from my phone at Lewis.

"I could do it." I said.

"You?" Lewis said.

"You say you like I'm a disease." I joked. Charles laughed.

"No no, not what I meant. Go ahead." Lewis said.

"Yeah, me. I'm the one who did my cousins." I said.

"Your the one that did her full sleeve?" He asked surprised.

"Yeah, I did."

"Wow."

"Don't be so surprised." I said.

"Hm, I don't know. I was kind of looking for someone a bit more... professional." He said slwoly.

"i am the queen of professional." I said.

"Sure, but do you even have the materials?" He asked.

"Yeah, at home. Where my professional state is." I smirked. He thought about it for a moment.

"Hm, alright." He said slowly. "But I'm having Charles there for an eye witness." He said.

"Now you act like I'm going to kill you." I said. We all laughed. Just then, their names were called to the stage.

"See you old man>" I said, as Lewis walked away.

"I am not old! He shouted from across the room, I laughed, watching them do their interview from the other side of the room.

"Lewis, Charles, nice to see you both again." the man said.

"Lewis, already off to a certain topic. You just shouted your not old, some of a audience caught that. Mind telling us?" The guy asked.

"Yeah, you see, my lovely girlfriend over there called me old. Clearly I'm not. But you know. Whatever you see at the eye." He says laughing. So did the audience.

"Well, you don't look at all old to me." The man said. I mouthed the words 'suck up.' to Lewis.

"Think she just called me a suck up over there." Lewis said with a smirk. Charles was laughing loudly at the conversation.

"Charles, you seem to be enjoying this." The man said. Charles shook his head while laughing. The rest of the interview went on, talking about the cars, the track, different tires, all different things.

"Well, Charles, Lewis, great having you here, thanking you for sitting down with us." The interviewer said, getting up to shake their hands, they both walked out into the lobby area.

"Great. Now we can leave finally." Charles dramatically expressed, sitting down on the bench with a large sigh.

"Mate it wasn't that bad of a day." Lewis chuckled at his friends state.

"Ugh, yes it was. People have way to many of the same questions." Charles laughed.

"Alright, shall we go then?" Lewis asked. Me and Charles nodded, standing up and walking outside. We walked out to the circuit parking lot, all piling into Lewis's car.

"Where first?" Lewis asked.

"My house. I have to pick my things up." I said. He nodded and drove to my house. We got there in a quick time and I went inside to get my supplies.

"Wow, I should have you decorate my house." Charles chuckled, looking around the house.

"Takes a lot." I said smiling, walking to my bedroom. I got everything that I needed and we went to Lewis's house.

"Where should we do this?" He asked, taking his coat off, hanging it by the door.

"Probably the kitchen table. It'd be the easiest." I said. We all walked in there, and I got my stuff set up. putting a paper towel under his arm, filling the ink dishes up, and getting the tattoo gun set up.

"I'm scared." Lewis mumbled.

"I would be. And old man like you has Carpal Tunnel, Could be shaking a lot." I said smirking. Charles laughed a bit, taking a seat next to Lewis.

"Okay okay. We get it, I'm so old and frail." Lewis laughed out with Charles.

Lewis put his arm out on the table and I started tracing over his tattoos. I got about a good 30 minutes in when I notice him squirming in his seat.

"Are you good?" I ask, bringing the needle away from his hand.

"God, this hurts like hell." He said, letting out a breath that had been held for a while. I notice Charles next to him chuckling.

"God, I am enjoying this." He laughed, taking a sip of his drink.

"Maybe you should get a tattoo." Lewis said.

"I so would." Charles backed.

"Good, after me, it's him. Make his hurt worse though." Lewis smirked.

"Oh I should, should I?" I said teasingly. I continued working up Lewis's arm and he eventually calmed down from the pain.

"Why do you do that?" Charles asked, as I wipe Lewis's arm with mark removal and a towel.

"It helps me see better. Because it clears up the lines." I said. He nodded along. I started working again, after taking a break. Lewis started to move, I was working on the back side of his arm which was more bone, so it made sense.

"Do you need like numbing stuff?" I ask.

"No why?" He asks back.

"Your moving around like crazy." I said giggling.

"It hurts!" He backed.

"Well stop moving. I don't want to mess up." I said, getting back to work. "After all, my name is going on your body." I said.

"Your name goes on my body ever couple of weeks darling." He backs.

"Ew. That's disgusting." Charles commented, taking a sip of his drink.

"Mate, she's the one who braids my hair." Lewis said, smirking.

"Yeah get your head out of the gutter." I said.

"Hey, my head wasn't in the gutter. You made it sound like that on purpose." He said, pointing to me and then Lewis. A couple of more minutes went by and I was finally done. Getting a towel and cleaning up his arm again.

"There you go." I said, putting the towel done.

"Wow. This actually looks... really good." Lewis said, inspecting his hand and arm.

"Told you I could do it." I said smirking.

"Alright. But you still did cause me pain." He said, smiling.

"Alright, you ready for the shoot finally?" Charles said standing up.

"Yes. Let's go. And I have high hopes that you won't make me look bad, yeah?" Lewis asks. I take care of my things and we all get in Lewis's car, driving to Charles house.

We got there in a quick time, got out and went inside. Charles went straight to his room, running down his stairs with a handful of clothes, smirking proudly.

"Right mate. First one is this." Charles says, holding up a pair of black dress pants, a black dress shirt, and a long, black coat.

"Oh yes. This is my brother Arthur. He's going to be taking the pictures." Charles says, introducing Arthur.

"Wow, you are like identical." I said. Charles just laughed.

"Nice to meet you." Arthur said, shaking my hand.

"But way more polite to." I said.

"Woah, I am tons of polite mate." Charles said, putting a hand on his chest.

"Oh boy." Lewis says. Grabbing the hanger and going into the bathroom to change.

I give Charles a suspicious look, and he just smirked.

"Don't worry. He will look great." Charles said, holding up the okay sign.

"Alright." Lewis says, walking out of the bathroom. "This isn't half bad." He says, adjusting the collar of his jacket. Charles just nods and smiles, and he tells Lewis wear to stand in the house. Arthur took a bunch of pictures of Lewis, having him stand in different positions.

"Alright. Next one." Charles said. Next he handed him blue, baggy jeans, and a tan Ferrari sweatshirt. Lewis went to go change, came back out and started shooting again. This process went on for a good hour or so, tearing through many different outfits, getting many good pictures.

"Alright. Thanks for doing this mate." Charles said.

"Anytime. I'll see you tomorrow." Lewis said, saying goodbye to to Charles and Arthur before we leave. We were in the car, driving back to my house, it was pretty much a quite ride until we pulled into the driveway.

"You did great today." I said smiling.

"Thanks. You did to. This looks amazing." He said, holding up his hand.

"Well, it was just tracing over lines." I said giggling.

"I know, but still, it's major talent." He said smiling. "Will I see you at the track tomorrow?" He asked.

"Of course. You know I will be there." I said.

"Great. I'll text you when I'm home, yeah?" He said.

"You better." I said smiling. Leaning over the console to kiss him.

"I'll see you." He whispered against my lips.

"Bye." I said slowly. Opening the car door and walking inside.

Hey loves! First Lewis imagine! Hope you like! Comment to be added to the f1 tag list!

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Somewhere Over the Rainbow pop-up event.

born to run

Prompt: Red | Song: All Too Well by Taylor Swift | Word Count: 1978 | Rating: T | POV: Eddie | CW: Self Isolation, Language | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, But He's Isolated, And Steve's Having None of It, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Lots of Springsteen References

'cause there we are again on that little town street, you almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me

The criminal case had fizzled into nothingness, dismissed before it began with some strings pulled from places higher than Eddie will ever understand. Of course, the court of public opinion has been less forgiving. Eddie's not surprised, not at all. It's always that way for guys like him. 

Different. Weird. Freak.

Guilty.

Even if he's not.

He still feels trapped, caged, locked up. Like he can't leave the house. And as someone who wants to run by nature, that's been torture. 

At the new house, the backyard is fenced, and that's Eddie's prison yard. He walks the fenceline, pacing in a big circle, the only energy outlet he has. Just a never-ending loop, wearing a path into the grass. Alone with his thoughts.

Unless he isn't. He hears footsteps brushing through the leaves, and freezes. Then he sees the hands reach up and grasp the top of the tall wooden fence. Seconds later, Steve is hoisting himself over the backyard wall with ease, like some sort of knight in shining armor.

Eddie laughs, though his heart is still beating against his chest, just a little. 

"Front door didn't work?" Eddie asks as Steve swings his body over, sliding to the ground.

"Uh, forgot my key. You didn't answer. I knew you had to be out here," Steve says, wiping his hands on his jeans, "And look! You were!"

It's far too excited of a tone, especially when there was nowhere else Eddie could have possibly been. It's not like he leaves the yard. Eddie starts pacing again, and Steve falls into lockstep. Walking in circles right beside him.

He'd never tell Gareth, wouldn't even admit it under pain of death, but Steve's been the best friend he could ask for these past months. Nobody else is even close. It's just different. What they both know. What they've been through. Seen. Survived. Together.

He finally gets the old war buddy bond that Wayne talks about. It's no joke.

"I'm going stir crazy in this prison," Eddie says, because there's never a reason to lie to Steve.

Steve's seen his worst days. Maybe someday he'll see his best, too. Eddie is optimistic that this isn't forever, even if it feels like it right now.

Jogging a couple steps ahead, Steve turns so he can walk backwards ahead of Eddie. 

"I have an idea."

"And that idea would be?" Eddie probes. He's open to anything right now.

"It's your birthday, right?" Steve asks, and Eddie didn't even realize he knew that.

"Uh, yeah. Tomorrow."

"Come for a ride with me," Steve says, and Eddie's already shaking his head. No way. 

Steve's eyes are pleading, but Eddie can't.

"Later tonight. When the town is quiet. Nothing will happen. Not while you're with me. Not on my watch," Steve says, and Eddie feels his resolve crumbling. He doesn't want to leave the house, but Steve's using those fucking eyes of his against Eddie. It's really, truly unfair. 

Eddie doesn't say no, but he doesn't say yes either. 

For now, they'll just pace the yard, loop after loop.

Laying on Eddie's bed, Steve's got a cigarette dangling from his lip, head upside down off the edge of the bed as he holds up the liner notes of Born to Run, reading them. It was Steve's turn to pick the record. Some of Steve's have slowly migrated to Eddie's room, collection intermingling.

"Hey, Eddie, this guy, he's the real thing," Steve says, just before Springsteen sings the same line of lyrics. 

Eddie laughs.

Steve's proving a point with this album, has been all night. He wants to hide out on the backstreets. Wants a meeting across the river. He wants to ride out tonight to case the promised land. 

Eddie, after all, is born to run.

Wayne appears in the open bedroom door, and they both look over at him. He's got a six-pack held up, "First legal drink on me."

"I'm not twenty-one yet," Eddie banters, tapping his watch.

"Well, I gotta get to work, wise guy. Show some restraint for once and don't crack one open until after midnight."

"What about Steve?" Eddie teases. "He's a minor. Don't make me call Chief Hopper."

Wayne laughs, putting the beer down on the desk, having to scoot some shit to the side to make room for it, "What I don't know won't hurt me."

Eddie grins. He knows before all this bullshit happened, Wayne would have taken him out to his favorite bar for that first drink. That's not really an option now, unfortunately.

Wayne smiles back at him, "Happy birthday, kid."

"Thanks, old man."

"Birthday breakfast?" Wayne asks, "Both of you?"

And they both nod. Eddie tries to not read into the fact that Wayne just assumes Steve's staying all night. Eddie knows he probably will. Steve's made it his personal mission to keep Eddie company.

"Stay out of trouble," Wayne says, a relic of years gone by. And then he's gone. Eddie's definitely not getting into trouble these days.

Steve goes back to studying the lyrics printed on the album flap.

"This town rips the bones from your back," Steve reads, and then looks up at Eddie, "Who knew Springsteen has been to Hawkins?"

Eddie laughs. Ain't that the goddamn truth. It is a death trap. But maybe that's a more universal feeling than he's considered it to be.

It's quiet for a while, Steve reading, both of them smoking. Springsteen crooning from the corner.

"Wanna go for that ride?" Steve asks, interrupting the silence, looking hopeful and earnest.

Eddie shakes his head on instinct, but for some reason he still agrees anyway. For Steve. 

"Okay, big boy. Take me out into that town full of losers."

Playing it safe at first, as promised, Steve hugs the side streets. Long patches of inky darkness only broken up by dim street lights on corners. Revealed with the soft swish of the windshield wipers. A summer shower that'll probably stop as quickly as it started.

Eventually they move out onto the main drag. Eddie isn't sure how it looks exactly the same, but also so different. They've cleaned it up well. Fast. He's shocked. The world, the town, is spinning on without him as he stays stagnant, trapped in that house.

Steve's looking at him. Staring. Eddie can feel his eyes on him.

The light changes.

"Red," Eddie says.

"Huh?" Steve asks, brow furrowing.

"Light's red!" Eddie shouts, and Steve slams on the brakes. Sliding a little on the wet road before coming to a stop. Squeezing the steering wheel, laughing.

There's not another soul on the road, but they still stop and wait for it to change back to green.

"Green means go, red means stop," Eddie mocks.

"One stoplight in town, and I almost ran it," Steve giggles, looking back over at Eddie, just like he had been before the jarring stop. Eddie can't help smiling. It's nice, and Steve's car feels safe. Like the house, like the backyard. Another extension of home.

That's all Steve. 

When the light changes, he pulls away from the intersection and the wind whips through Eddie's hair.

The clock flips over to midnight, and Eddie's a year older. Maybe this one will be different. Better.

"Happy birthday," Steve says.

"It's just another day," Eddie answers, because he can't get his hopes up for anything to change.

Steve reaches over and rests his hand on Eddie's knee, and it's shocking and comforting and inevitable, "You're turning twenty-one. That's supposed to be fun."

Eddie covers it with his own, and feels his heart flip in his chest.

"You're a poet and didn't even know it," Eddie says, deflecting, because anything else feels too big, too real.

Steve laughs and pulls his hand back to his own lap.

Eddie misses it, immediately.

So much for a summer shower. It's a full-on downpour by the time they pull back into the driveway. They run back into the safety of the house, laughing, Steve locking the deadbolt behind them. Then his hands are on Eddie. One hand sliding around the back of Eddie's head, tangling in his damp hair, pulling him close.

Looking right in his eyes, Eddie feels trapped, pinned down in another way now.

This way is much better.

"Green," Eddie whispers, and Steve furrows his brow just for a second, then he smiles.

"Green means go," Steve says back, and hell yes it does.

Steve goes, because he's brave, and Eddie feels Steve's mouth covering his for the first time. Eddie reaches for him, clings to him, kissing him back.

After three months in the grave, locked away in this tomb, Eddie feels alive again. Warmth flooding his cheeks, kissing Steve Harrington. 

It suddenly feels like a home, not a prison. Just like that. Eddie's world shifting, being illuminated with the warmth that Steve has offered him.

Eddie squeezes Steve's biceps, and Steve walks him back towards his bedroom. And Eddie goes more than willing, letting Steve pull off their damp clothing, tossing them away. He sighs as Steve presses him down into the mattress, covering Eddie's whole body with his own. Shielding him, protecting him, still. 

Harrington's got him. 

Steve finds his hand, laces their fingers together, squeezing tight. Eddie tilts his head, deepening the kiss. Humming with happiness as Steve eventually pulls back, and moves to kiss his neck instead. Lips dancing across his skin, his tongue peeking out, brushing against the juncture of his neck, making Eddie laugh, delighted.

It's soft, and sweet. 

It's everything Eddie never knew he needed. 

Even in their underwear Steve isn't asking for anything other than this, even if Eddie would willingly give it. This is enough, more than. Steve's hand holding his tightly, his body grounding Eddie's to his own, to the bed, to the world.

The noise of Hawkins, of death, of destruction finally pushed to the back burner with Steve lighting better fires to attend to with his mouth, his fingers.

Eddie's never had this, what feels like hours of staying so close, kissing, touching, just holding onto one another. They've shifted, now face-to-face in Eddie's bed. Steve's hand holding his. Like he might never let go.

He hopes he doesn't.

This was overdue, Eddie realizes.

Inevitable.

"Tramps like us," Steve says, and Eddie laughs, rolling on the bed, but not letting go. And he lets Steve tug him closer. There's no place left to hide.

Nowhere to run.

Eddie can't tell him he loves him. Not yet. Even if he knows he does. Probably has since he was stumbling through the woods of the Upside Down, trailing after Steve Harrington like a lost puppy.

Thinking he had no chance. Flirting to flirt, teasing to tease.

"Wild and real," Eddie says instead, and the way Steve smiles means he gets it. He knows what Eddie is saying without saying it.

Steve Harrington speaks in Springsteen, and after being around him for months, Eddie does, too. 

Eddie surges forward this time, taking the lead, kissing Steve again. He never wants to stop kissing him. He never wants to stop loving him with all the madness in his soul.

He's the one.

In the morning, they drink Eddie's warm birthday beer with breakfast. If Wayne notices that things have changed between them, if he sees their swollen lips and their stupid grins, he definitely doesn't mention it.

He just slides eggs and bacon and toast onto their plates before joining them at the table. Smiling as he gets to share that first legal drink with Eddie after all.

Wayne clinks his bottle against Eddie's, "Twenty-one will be better than twenty. You'll see."

Eddie grins, eyes cutting over to Steve who's already eating, wearing one of Eddie's threadbare shirts, a hickey on his neck.

Looking back at Wayne, Eddie smiles, maybe bigger than he has since before.

Fuck yeah, it will.

And if you want to write your own, or see more entries in this pop-up, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to see other entries for the Somewhere Over the Rainbow popup event!

Notes: Let's be so for real. Wayne totally already thought they've been together for months. 🤣

Tons of references to the album Born to Run in this one. Maybe more than the Taylor song that it was built around after all was said and done, lol.

[simon-egg]

I have a few different whump-related Benji thoughts, relating to the events of The Final Reckoning (spoilers ahead)

Okay, so the layout of the Doomsday Vault seemed to be: drivable tunnel -> area where the bomb was -> server room. This means that the only way to get Benji out was through the area damaged by the blast. After the explosion, this could have been blocked by debris, some lights were destroyed and the air was also thick with dust, making visibility for everyone difficult. Inhaling the dust could have made Benji's condition worse, hence why Paris covered his face when the blast occurred. Oh, and the Doomsday Vault is shielded from digital signals and deep underground... so they can't just call an ambulance for Benji. Anyway, my point is, that I'm sure it was a side-mission in itself getting Benji (unconscious, dying) to a hospital quickly and safely. I hope it gets explored in fic at some point.

~

As a whump enthusiast, I do find myself focusing on Benji's scene in the Doomsday Vault. However, he also seemed to bear the brunt of the fighting on St Matthew Island and I feel like we need to talk about that more. It made sense that the captain would be the most skilled fighter out of those Russians, and he just had to go after Benji, (a captain vs a team leader, nice). Benji got knocked around, a gash on his face and a whole heavy bookcase fell on him, which knocked him unconscious. This was while he was surrounded by the raging fire (smoke inhalation). He went through a lot! Benji needed Degas to lift the bookcase off him and had to be helped up/ physically supported by Paris. You can also see him panting and clutching his chest. The bookcase would have caused bruising, winded him and potentially even cracked a rib or a few. <- The poor guy probably thought he had enough chest trauma for one mission, only to get a bullet in his lung a day later. 😔

When Benji and Ethan reunited in the Arctic, they would absolutely worry about each other's condition. Even though Ethan had objectively gone through worse (died), he'd notice the gash on Benji's face and check on him. If they hugged, Ethan would notice Benji wince and tense up, from the ache of his fight.

~

The end scene in Trafalgar Square must have taken place a few weeks after they beat The Entity/ Gabriel but I'm certain that wasn't the next time Ethan and Benji saw each other. I have a few reasons why.

Firstly, once he was picked up by Kittridge and Briggs, Ethan would need to know what's happened with the team. After all, he left them beside a live nuke, similar to the one that killed Luther. As they can't communicate with those in the vault, Ethan would demand to be taken there. By the time Ethan arrives, Benji would have been in critical condition due to shock, blood loss and difficulty breathing. I do not doubt that Ethan would rush to be by Benji's side until they got to a hospital and Benji stabilised. Even after then, he'd want to stay close.

After Luther's death, Benji is now Ethan's only long-time close friend. He's known the new team 2 months. He's known Benji for 20 years. Benji's familiar presence in his life is a comfort he won't want to be without, especially after the trauma of that mission.

It was easy for Gabriel to trap Luther with the bomb, as Luther had become weak and unwell. He wouldn't have had the strength or speed to try and stop Gabriel (or any other attacker). Perhaps Ethan wishes in hindsight he'd done more to make Luther better protected and better hidden. He can't change the past, but he sees Benji in his vulnerable condition and knows by watching over him, he's safer. After all, i'm sure a lot of bad people want Benji dead, and Ethan knows that.

[sloaneloise]

That is all that matters, and that I finished in one piece. That actually was the most important part. Because I definitely slipped a couple of times that I thought things were going to go a vastly different way. The Polaris ATVs were fun though, especially when you didn't want to walk anymore, or move your body. I did, I relaxed pretty much the rest of the time and then took it easy in just office days when I got back. Perks of planning ahead and knowing what I was going to need to do. No nothing solid planned, aside from enjoying the upcoming beach and carnival, because I've always been the girl that loves all things carnival based. I'm sure I'll go exploring around Maine, take a trip or two, but nothing concrete set up. Anything big you're planning for the summer?

What matters is that you had a good time and you finished! If it were me, I think they would have been coming to find me back on the wooded course and taking me back to camp on one of those Polaris thingies, so trust me, you did well. And hopefully you had a little bit of time to just rest and relax afterwards! Plus, with Memorial Day being right after, that makes for a good little break. Nice! Nothing planned yet, like no destinations you want to try to visit? There's always so many fun things to see in Maine, you never know what you could find nearby.

[c1phra]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀─── ⠀𝐌ELODIES ⠀& ⠀𝐌EMORIA ✦ ⠀main post.

there's a cd in your hands. scrawled on the back of the case is a list of songs—seemingly handwritten. the selection is a mix of genres, but each seems to tell a story of its own. so what do you say? have someone you want to dedicate a song to? go ahead and press play.

mari's note : this is a songfic mini-event! please see below for the selection of prompts + characters i'm accepting this time. as of now, 10/10 slots have been filled. REQUESTS ARE CLOSED. masterlist -> here!

✦ ・ TRACK LIST ( 01 — 20 )

TRACK 01 : Blue Hair⠀ · ⠀TV Girl ( QUEUED )

“Nothing I could do to stop her from cutting... her beautiful blue hair off—”They’ve changed. You’ve changed too, no doubt. It was inevitable perhaps—knowing someone for that long, they’re bound to change at some point. But sometimes when you look at them, it’s hard to recognize who they are anymore.

TRACK 02 : Your Best Friend⠀ · ⠀Boyish ( QUEUED )

“We wasted nights, pretending not to kiss when we walk home—”Best friends. That’s all you’ve been, and all you will ever be. As much as you loathe to admit it, the stealthy kisses, the longing looks, the barely held back ‘I love you’s… they never made a difference at all.

TRACK 03 : The Exit⠀ · ⠀Conan Gray

“Feels like, we had matching wounds but, mine's still black and bruised and yours is perfectly fine now—” You share the same scars of the past. You're so alike, so perfectly matched. So why did you heal so perfectly, when they're stuck ten paces behind, trapped by a past that used to haunt you both? It isn't fair. Why do you get to move on? Why can't they? And why does seeing you like this—so happy—hurt so much?

TRACK 04 : Twilight⠀ · ⠀bôa

“You feel the same way that I do for you, about her—” Oh that look in their eyes, the lovestruck, soft look that makes your heart flutter... it's beautiful. It's breathtaking. And it's sickening, knowing that look will never fall onto you—not when it's so fixated on someone else.

TRACK 05 : Work Song⠀ · ⠀Hozier ( QUEUED )

“No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her—”Longing is too simple a word for what they feel. It's an ache, buried deep between the bars of their rib-cage, a soothing pain that yearns for you. The thought of you is the sweetest relief; knowing they have you to come home to is the only thing keeping their head up and legs moving forward. They'll always come home to you.

TRACK 06 : Cruel Summer⠀ · ⠀Taylor Swift

“I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard—” A summer fling, a whirlwind romance. It's temporary, it's fun; you knew it wouldn't last forever, but god does it feel good while it lasts. If only you could draw it out a little longer, hold back the farewells for just a few more weeks... but the end of summer is quickly approaching.

TRACK 07 : Sweet Talk⠀ · ⠀Saint Motel ( QUEUED )

“Everything you say, is sweet talk to my ears—”They're so head-over-heels in love that anything that comes out of your mouth makes them smile, no matter what it is. You could yell at them, laugh, or even ignore them entirely, but it doesn't matter—the fact that they're able to be in your presence is enough.

TRACK 08 : Out Of My League⠀ · ⠀Fitz and The Tantrums

“Yeah, you were more than just a dream—” Sometimes it feels like they're dreaming. They pinch themself, but it doesn't make it feel any less surreal; after all, how could they possibly end up with someone like you? Someone so perfect, and so unbelievably out of their league.

TRACK 09 : Memories⠀ · ⠀Conan Gray

“Can't be your friend; can't be your lover—” It would be a lot easier to move on from them if they didn’t keep showing up in your life, time and time again. And it would be a lot easier if you didn’t relent and let them creep back in, time and time again.

TRACK 10 : My Love Mine All Mine⠀ · ⠀Mitski ( QUEUED )

“Nothing in the world belongs to me but my love, mine all mine—”They're not used to having things to themself, things that won't break or be discarded, so this love—this tender, delicate sort of love, it's something new. But oh, they will treasure it. It's something for them—and you, of course... all for yourselves.

TRACK 11 : Waste⠀ · ⠀Oh Wonder ( QUEUED )

“Waste, what a waste... what a waste to be so alone—”It takes every ounce of self-control to not go crawling back. Maybe it was worse before, but maybe you had each other before, and maybe that helpless thought lingers, as much as you try to dismiss it. You'd give anything to rid yourself of this aching loneliness.

TRACK 12 : Casual⠀ · ⠀Chappell Roan

“I thought, you thought of me better... someone that you couldn't lose—” "Casual". One word that's been haunting your life for months. It's your own fault for agreeing so quickly when they brought it up, but you can't help but long for more. They have to know by now, just how deep your feelings run, but it'll never go any further. It's casual, it's always been just casual.

TRACK 13 : lacy⠀ · ⠀Olivia Rodrigo ( QUEUED )

“And I despise my jealous eyes, and how hard they fell for you—”You can't fathom it. It feels like every part of them is perfect; perfect looks, perfect poise, perfect charm. You're nothing standing next to them. And all that resentment and envy and admiration seems to cloud your gaze—do you want them, or want to be them?

TRACK 14 : The 30th⠀ · ⠀Billie Eilish

“You were scared... and so am I—” It still scares you sometimes, just how close it was. In a heartbeat you could have lost them—you almost did lose them. And it still hits you sometimes, that wave of panic, the sight of their face. You're alive, you're both alive; that's all that you can focus on, now.

TRACK 15 : Do I Wanna Know?⠀ · ⠀Arctic Monkeys ( QUEUED )

“The nights were mainly made for saying things you can't say tomorrow day—”You're stuck in a limbo; both of you know there's something there, just a little deeper, but neither of you are willing to dig for it. Instead, you save your unspoken words for late nights and chance encounters, always crawling back to the other no matter what.

TRACK 16 : Favorite⠀ · ⠀Isabel LaRosa ( QUEUED )

“Darling, can I be your favorite—”It almost hurts, how badly they want to be yours. Your favourite, your treasured one, the one you call your own. They'd give you the world, if only in exchange for those few simple words; "You're mine. I'm yours."

TRACK 17 : Broken Waltz⠀ · ⠀Holden Laurence ( QUEUED )

“Bitter tears on a white dress; make-up stains on the sheets in protest—”'Love', as they called it, is not something the universe deigned to give you. Not the fairytale, flawless kind of love you saw in romances. The 'love' that you two shared was nothing but fool's gold, a perfect replication of a relationship with none of the affection attached. And you're trapped, dancing this broken waltz 'til the music cuts out.

TRACK 18 : Anything You Want⠀ · ⠀Eliza McLamb

“You could eat me alive, and I'd let you do it 'cause it's all I know... but you wanna do it right—” They aren't accustomed to love. They're not used to the feeling of being wanted. They don't understand why you look at them so adoringly, they don't understand why, out of anyone, you'd choose to love them. They don't deserve you, but if they could be a little less of themself for just a bit... they'd be anything for you.

TRACK 19 : The Other Side Of Paradise⠀ · ⠀Glass Animals

“Bye-bye baby blue, I wish you could see the wicked truth—” The lover you once knew has grown up now, and grown out of your love. Too busy chasing the stars, it seems they forgot all about you... it's too bad then, that your attachment didn't fade as easily. It's too bad, that even though you still try, they've already slipped away. You only know them in hindsight, now.

TRACK 20 : get him back!⠀ · ⠀Olivia Rodrigo

“Oh, I want sweet revenge, and I want him again—” Is it a bad idea, reconnecting with your ex? According to every one of your friends, undoubtedly yes. But oh, don't you miss those good times? Even with the rocky parts, they had a way of making everything so exciting... What's wrong with wanting that again?

✦ ・ VOLUME SETTINGS

for fem!reader, please select [volume: high]

for gn!reader, please select [volume: low]

✦ ・ DEDICATION

who's this track playing for? see below the selection of available characters to dedicate your song to. please note, this list is limited to characters i will definitely want to write for, so i don't lose motivation.

honkai star rail : anaxa. aventurine. boothill. cipher. jiaoqiu. kafka. moze. reca. robin. sunday.

genshin impact : alhaitham. chiori. furina. heizou. kaveh. kokomi. tighnari.

zenless zone zero : harumasa. hugo. lighter. seth. vivian.

mari's note : make sure to specify a track, volume, and dedication in your song request! i'm only planning on writing one drabble per prompt, so tracks that have been selected will be crossed out.

[eunandonly]

ADMIT IT, YOU LIKE ME ⭑ ( 𝗁𝗍𝗌 )

parallel lines are not supposed to meet ─── but yet here we are, stolen glances and whispered flirtings we mask as tauntings

'𝐸 . han dongmin + fem. reader 925 · academic rivals to lovers fluff headcanons ୨୧ unestablished relationship, extreme passive aggressive behaviour archive

은혜 : a little fic before i disappear for a week bc of my school trip!! i've been wanting to develop the academic rival!taesan idea from this fic i wrote before for agessss and red hair taesan has done smth to me he is so fine like annyeong fine shyt ok i also want to write a cute fic for leehan maybe i'll work on that on the plane mmhmm

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED

academic rival taesan who you’ve shared the top two ranks with since freshman year, though neither of you are willing to admit that the competition has become personal. he always finishes one point ahead or one place below, never enough to settle the rivalry once and for all.

academic rival taesan who scoffs under his breath and starts flipping the pages of his chemistry textbook more aggressively when you shoot him a victorious smirk after answering a question faster than him. he hates you. you’re just so damn annoying.

“it’s just a calculus question,” he says, rolling his eyes when he sees the grin on your face. “calm down, it’s not that deep.” “you’re just mad you didn’t get it faster than me.” you reply with a shrug and a mocking smile that makes taesan’s blood boil.

academic rival taesan who claps sarcastically from the back of the room when you finish your presentation and makes sure to tell you that “your introduction was weak”

academic rival taesan who spends weeks preparing for a debate because he found out you’re on the opposing team. the trophy is one thing, but the way your eye twitches is another when he calls your argument “surface level at best” in front of everyone in the room.

“you sound like you spent hours preparing just for the opening line of your argument.” you say as you organise your colour coded flashcards during an interval. “i didn’t,” he lies. “yeah well,” you sigh, looking up to give him a mocking smile. “maybe you should’ve–a bit weak on your counter arguments, don't you think?”

academic rival taesan who constantly competes against you, even outside of academics because he just can’t seem to let the rivalry go. you call him petty. he calls himself determined. 

“were you purposefully only aiming at me during that round of dodgeball or am i hallucinating?” you ask during a water break in pe, out of breath after dodging twenty different throws from taesan. “i think you’re hallucinating as per usual.” “i think you should shut up.”

academic rival taesan who makes sure to pull you back by your backpack in the corridors when you shove past him, murmuring about how rude you are in a quiet voice so only you can hear before letting you go.

you and academic rival taesan who are always causing arguments during student council meetings but than end up teaming up when other members say something that pisses both of you off.

“that’s the most terrible idea i’ve ever heard. it'll go over budget, i've done all my calculations,” taesan grumbles, staring at your document with a scowl on his face. “well i don’t see you with any better ideas.” you retort, crossing your arms and shutting your laptop passive aggressively. taesan just shakes his head. “we might as well just put your pretty face to use and make you stand in the hallway to promote.” the student council treasurer cuts in, nudging the other members. “or you could just admit you’re both into each other and move on.” you and taesan both tell him to shut up in unintended unison.

academic rival taesan who doesn't know when his hatred for you starts slipping into something else that he can't describe. a strange, warm feeling in his chest whenever he talks to you. and he’s trying very, very hard to ignore it, but he can’t help but feel like he hates the fact that he might not actually hate you as much as he thinks he hates you.

academic rival taesan who stopped sitting next to you in class after your knee brushed his under the table and he forgot his six times tables for three seconds. but he’ll still lean over during class to whisper insults in your ear, his breath way too warm and way too close.

you and academic rival taesan who makes the school’s student body whisper about the strange tension between you two that both of you seem to be pointedly ignoring. someone in your class whispers about how they’re never sure whether you want to tear each other apart or make out during arguments.

“you lack the depth to understand nietzsche” “you read nietzsche for aesthetics” “says you. you’re just about as deep as a kiddy pool.”

academic rival taesan who’s the one that actually comforts you when he finds you crying in an empty classroom after school because your grades fell, rubbing your back and telling you in a gentle voice that “one stupid physics paper isn’t going to ruin your whole life” and that “there’s no reason for you to worry about unemployment in the future.”

academic rival taesan who’s possessive in a petty way. he mocks you 24/7, but he’s the only one who gets to call you a pretentious know-it-all. 

some guy snorts after you answer a question in class. “she acts like she’s the only one who knows anything.” taesan swivels in his seat. “you want to repeat that louder?” “relax, it’s just a joke.” “i don’t see anyone laughing.”

academic rival taesan who starts doodling snarky comments in the margins of your notebook or leaving you little notes on your desk with a snack he knows you like from the store. he swears it isn’t him, but you could recognise his handwriting anywhere–sharp, slanted, narrow.

academic rival taesan who’s cocky enough to lean towards you during study period to whisper in your ear, “admit it, you like me.” you smile and write on his notebook in red: “you wish.”

[tokidokitokyo]

Starting a Conversation in Japanese

A podcast I really enjoy, ことのは日本語の会話のpodcast, recently posted an episode about starting a conversation in Japanese:

やまむ先生 and きび先生 are two Japanese language teachers who talk about a variety of topics on their podcast, and the back-and-forth between the two women is a good way to attune your ears to natural Japanese language conversation.

This episode in particular - 日本で使て！日本人に話しかけるフレーズ (Use in Japan! Phrases to start a conversation with Japanese people) - resonated with me because, although I've been studying Japanese for more than half my life (^^;;) I still vividly remember when I first arrived in Japan and felt like I could barely form a coherent sentence. Speaking with people was a daunting challenge, and if I hadn't had friendly people around me I think that I would have been awkward and terrified for a lot longer than I was. They also have set phrases which I wish I had someone to tell me before I went to Japan!

Feel free to listen to this episode and let me know if you have any additional tips or suggestions to the ones I list below. This episode is designed for N3-level speakers and above, but here are the things that they hit on that I thought were particularly important:

My Japanese Level is Too Low!

When I first arrived in Japan, and the ticket cashier switched immediately to English because I was struggling, I really felt like I could not do Japanese at all, and I was pretty intimidated. But! I used Japanese regularly, and I was able to eventually have enough confidence to speak to others.

The main point brought up in this podcast is that N5 level (beginning level) is enough to start a conversation!

Using formal です・ます forms is perfectly acceptable and actually this is how many Japanese people would address each other when speaking with someone for the first time or with someone they do not know well. You could start off casually, and count on the 外人パス (foreigner card) to get you through, but it is generally more comfortable for Japanese people if you approach them with formal, respectful language. You don't need to pull out N1-level grammar to introduce yourself (and it might even be more awkward if you do), so just go ahead with the basics.

Adjust your comments to the situation!

If you are in a restaurant, a work setting, a group setting, or a school setting, tailor your opening comment to the situation. In Japanese I have heard this called TPO (time, place, occasion), which means don't ask a coworker if she's been on any dates lately (seems like common sense?) and in front of a group of soccer players (I'm imagining my own days in the soccer circle) don't start drooling over BTS' Jin (at least not until you find the other Jin fans - when you first join the club it's way too early). The podcast gives you some good conversation starters that are harmless and can be used in multiple situations. After all, Japanese is all about reading the air (空気を読む).

Think about what you'll say next before you even speak!

I know, I know, you already spent 3.2 hours coming up with your opening line and another 45 minutes working up the courage to use it... but once you've initiated the conversation, the other person may not step up to carry on the conversation, leaving the onus on you. If you're interested in continuing the conversation, have some follow up comments or questions ready in your back pocket. As in any language, if you don't make the effort to continue the conversation, it might just fizzle out.

It's a conversation, not an interrogation!

Asking about the other person is a sure-fire way to keep them talking, but you also need to be mindful that they may not want an interrogation. As they say in the podcast, try to read their face colour (顔の色) and change your approach as needed. Since you are (most likely) from a different country, you could throw in some fun facts about your country that are related to the topic you picked to keep things going.

Safe things to talk about:

The weather

Your hometown/home country

Their plans for the weekend/upcoming holiday

Their hometown

Food

In Short

People are people, and even if your Japanese is not where you'd like it to be, most people will be willing to speak with you, and I've found that most Japanese people are flattered you are learning their language. Since practicing is the best way to improve, there's no better time than now to start speaking. Just remember TPO (time/place/occasion), don't interrogate the other person, and prepare some follow up comments to keep the conversation flowing as best you can.

Hope this is useful!

[rawrkittenpurr]

i wanted some inspiration for my toxic exes love triangle, but @beachesgetpeaches said let there be domestic fluff and baby clothes instead, so behold, some maxiel.

Max is sorting through the packages that Daniel’s brought back earlier, piled high on the kitchen island. There shouldn’t be too much sponsored stuff – this is not their business address, it’s out of the way and is officially registered under the Hermanns – but he can spot a few brightly coloured, branded boxes that he supposes are work related still. Perhaps someone at Red Bull forwarded them here, stupid but not impossible. He tosses those to one side, moves the generic brown cardboard boxes stuck shut with Amazon tape to another corner, those will probably be restocks of some basic supplies that they buy in bulk; nappies, diaper cream, cat litter, poop bags.

Olivia is just starting to get fussy, Max can hear her take some heavy breaths that are usually a sign that she’s minutes away from complaining at full volume. He’d really like to finish this one thing uninterrupted, but after contemplating his options briefly, he opts to go over and pick her up from her play mat. Sorting the mail one handed is still a hell of a lot better than dealing with a hysterical baby.

“Look at all this stuff your daddy’s ordered again. He does love a treat, doesn’t he, little one?” Max chats at his daughter with an amused smile while she, now satisfied with the attention, blabbers nonsensically before stuffing the head of the rubber hippo she’s holding into her mouth. Max continues with the task at hand, an understated, pastel coloured box catching his eye. It’s not crass enough packaging to be from any sports brand, but it’s also way more tasteful than those generic boxes sex shops usually use that try so hard to be inconspicuous that they end up looking uncanny. He doesn’t recognize the brand, but that doesn’t mean anything. He considers whether he should open it or wait for Daniel, but for some reason, the parcel has him intrigued, and he’s fairly sure it’s not a sex toy. Plus it’s not like Olivia would be scarred, even if it ended up being something NSFW, whatever is inside, she’d probably only want to clutch it in her little fist, shake it, throw it, or slobber over it, potentially all of the above. Just as he’s trying to get around the logistics of opening the box one handed, Daniel walks in, sweaty and a little out of breath, and drops his earbuds on the counter next to the boxes.

“Hey, you’re back. How was your run?”

“Eh, it was okay,” Daniel comes up behind them, hugging Max’s waist and pressing a quick kiss to his lips before turning his attention to Olivia, “but I missed this little munchkin!”

“Daniel, don’t be ridiculous. You were gone for 40 minutes,” Max scolds, but he can’t keep the fondness out of his voice.

“Yeah and it’s completely unreasonable to miss her after less than an hour. Unlike when you FaceTimed us while getting your hair cut to check in on us.”

“Ah, but that’s different. You know I hate getting my hair cut.”

“And you needed her for emotional support?”

“So they only want to talk about her, and I don’t need to make small talk,” Max explains, rolling his eyes like this is self-evident. He hands Olivia over to Daniel, who is delighted by having both of them back in one place and doesn’t even squirm when Daniel presses a sweaty kiss onto her belly. She just reaches out and tries to tug his damp curls.

“Can you entertain her for a bit, just until I finish this, please? Then you can go take a shower,” Max asks, and Daniel nods. He walks over to the living room, bouncing his daughter in the air and cooing at her, while Max returns his attention to the box in front of him.

“Hey, can I open this?” he shouts, pointing at the pastel coloured box from earlier as if Daniel’s able to see what he’s referring to.

“Sure, go ahead,” comes the answer from the other room. So Max gets to work, carefully slicing the tape open with a knife and pulling off the lid once it’s unstuck. He was right, it isn’t anything R-rated, in fact it’s quite the opposite: it’s children’s clothing. When he holds the garments up, it’s revealed to be a little summery linen set of shorts and a shirt, apparently Italian themed with some pastel coloured flowers, fruit, bowls of ice cream, waves and little smiling suns. It looks exactly like the sort of thing Daniel would wear himself, Max is pretty sure he was disappointed that it doesn’t come in his size. It’s really cute, but with the clothes removed, Max now spots the invoice sitting at the bottom of the box and has to do a double take.

“Daniel, why are we paying 142€ for this?” Max barges into the living room, holding up the incriminating pieces of tiny clothing.

“Come on, Max, they are so cute! She’ll be adorable in them. And it’s getting really warm now, she needs summer clothes.”

“She’s got plenty of clothes,” Max states.

“Yes, because you got 20-packs of everything in like, three basic colours. I refuse to raise a monochrome child, Max! She needs whimsy in her life.”

“Her clothes are the same colours because that’s easier for the laundry. Besides, she’s growing so fast, she will wear this maybe twice! This is stupid money to pay, Daniel. What will we do with it in a month when she’s grown out of it?”

“We’ll keep it, duh. For her baby brother. Or sister,” Daniel flashes a megawatt smile at Max, blinking up at him from the couch, and Max is momentarily dumbfounded.

“Her baby… Daniel, you want to— you want another kid?”

“Of course I do, baby. Olivia’s been the second best decision of my life, after marrying you,” Daniel replies, standing up and pulling Max into a kiss. And Max knows this isn’t how people usually go about discussing these things, really, but when have they ever done things the usual way? They seem to be on the same page, and that’s all that matters.

[fawnme1]

WINGS OF LOYALTY joaquìn torres .˚꩜ .ᐟ

summary; after meeting during the events of TFATWS, you and joaquìn began a relationship built on trust, loyalty and shared missions. now, you’re both apart of sam’s core team, and when a covert operations reveals disturbing ties to weapon plus and experimental super soldier programs, the three of you are forced to go rogue to express the truth.

an; i love joaquìn torres. thats it.

The soft hum of the jet filled the air, low and steady like a heartbeat. You sat across from Sam Wilson and Joaquìn Torres, both suited up and reviewing tactical data for the mission ahead. You weren’t new to this life, you’d worked missions with Sam before, during the aftermath of the Flag Smashes, but something about this one felt different. It wasn’t just the classified intel or the return of Thaddeus Ross as President. It was the weight of something bigger… something that could reshape the global balance.

But also? It was the way Joaquìn kept stealing glances at you when he thought no one noticed.

“Coordinates locked in,” you said, tapping a screen on your wrist-mounted device. “We’ll hit the drop zone in twenty.”

Joaquìn leaned forward, eyes warm. “You always sound so calm. Makes me feel like we’re just out for a stroll.”

You smirked. “You want me to scream and panic? Might kill the vibe.”

“Depends on the kind of scream.” He grinned, then caught Sam raising an eyebrow. “I mean, like, tactical screaming. For backup.”

“Sure,” Sam said dryly. “Tactical romance. Keep it off comms.”

You and Joaquìn had been together officially for a little under a year now. After the fall of the Flag Smashers, the post-mission bonding over cafecito and trauma turned into long phone calls, late-night flying lessons, and eventually a kiss you initiated after a shared operation in Tunisia. He was smart, loyal, and annoyingly good at making you laugh even when you were patching him up after a fight.

Now he was the new Falcon — new wings, new suit, same heart.

You’d been recruited back into field duty after intelligence flagged strange military patterns across Eastern Europe. President Ross had pulled the team together personally, and something about that rubbed you the wrong way.

But orders were orders… even if they came from someone with a Red Hulk past.

The mission started clean: reconnaissance on a suspected Hydra offshoot in Serbia. You, Sam, and Joaquìn infiltrated under the cover of night. Your instincts were sharp — trained by Steve Rogers himself back in the day — and you felt the unease ripple beneath the surface long before the first shots were fired.

Joaqìn flew overhead, wings silent against the moonlight, “Two targets on the roof. I’ve got ‘em,” he said into your comms.

“Keep it quiet,” Sam ordered. “We don’t want a firefight unless necessary.”

You ghosted up the fire escape, reaching the server room just as Joaquìn landed behind you. His presence was reassuring, he always had your six. Inside, encrypted filed lined the drives. You started uploading the data to HQ, fingers flying across the keyboard.

That’s when the explosion hit.

The floor trembled as something slammed into the building. Joaquìn threw his body over yours instinctively, wings shielding you from the shrapnel. You coughed against the dust and looked up, heart pounding.

“Joaquìn!”

“I’m okay,” he winced. “But that? That wasn’t part of the plan.”

No, it wasn’t. The building had been a trap.

Ross had known. He sent you in anyway.

Back at the safehouse, Sam paced while Joaquìn iced his bruised ribs. You leaned against the counter, jaw tight.

“He lied to us,” you said, voice sharp. “Ross knew that wasn’t just a data center. He wanted to see how we handled a full assault.”

Joaquìn nodded grimly. “We’re being tested. Or used.”

“And it’s not just us,” Sam added. “I’ve seen the reports. Experimental tech, enhanced soldiers, whispers of something deeper. Ross isn’t just cleaning up Hydra. He’s building something new.”

Your stomach sank. “Weapon Plus?”

Sam didn’t answer, but his silence said enough.

Joaquìn looked at you then, really looked. “You still in?”

You hesitated only a second. “With you? Always.”

As the mission escalated, so did the danger. You discovered that Ross had reactivated elements of Weapon Plus and was overseeing the development of a new super soldier program. Worse — he was using experimental Gamma tech, and rumours swirled of a Red Hulk.

Tensions rose between Sam and Ross, culminating in a confrontation that saw Captain America officially labeled a rogue agent. You and Joaquìn stuck by Sam, going underground as fugitives while trying to expose the truth.

One night, holed up in a hidden SHIELD outpost, you found Joaquìn in the hanger, inspecting his wings.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked.

He turned, his eyes tired but soft. “Not really. Keep thinking about what comes next. What we’re fighting for.”

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his waist. “We’re fighting for people who can’t. For truth. For each other.”

He brought his hands up to your cheeks and kissed your forehead. “I love you, you know.”

You smiled. “I know. I love you too.”

The final battle came swiftly. You joined Sam, Joaquìn, and a ragtag group of allies — including Bucky, who’d been off-grid until now — in a strike on a secret Weapon Plus facility in Alaska. There, you faced enhanced soldiers, Gamma-powered monstrosities, and finally… Ross himself, transformed into the Red Hulk.

It took everything you had — Sam with the shield, Joaquìn flying high with precision strikes, and you using every skill Steve had ever taught you. When it was over, Ross lay defeated, exposed before the world.

Sam reclaimed the Captain America mantle, publicly revealing Ross’s experiments. The truth rocked the country. You and Joaquìn were cleared of all wrongdoing… and more importantly, you were free.

A few weeks later, you sat on the rooftop of your shared apartment in D.C., watching the sunrise. Joaquìn bought you coffee, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you leaned into him.

“No more secrets?” you asked.

He smiled. “No more secrets.”

“You think it’s really love?”

“For now,” he said, kissing your cheek. “But whatever comes next… I want you there with me.”

You nodded. “Always.”

[mysteriousxgirls]

Ella blinked slowly, caught off guard by the one thing she hadn’t expected to hear from him: It’s not foolish. Dangerous—yes. Of course it was. She lived that truth every day. She knew the game they were playing, the rules written in blood and silence. She knew they’d never let her have that kind of life, not really. That if she ever got close—too close—they’d rip it from her hands and make her watch. Because that was what this world did. It punished softness. It destroyed anything pure before it had a chance to grow. But foolish? No. Azriel didn’t think it was foolish. And somehow… that made her eyes sting. Her chest tightened as she stared ahead, cigarette burning low between her fingers. She didn’t speak at first, just let the smoke fill her lungs, let the stars mock her with their cruel indifference. But it was that last line—I hope you get it anyway—that split something in her clean through. It was the way he said it like a man who never expected anything good for himself. Like hope was a relic from a different life, one he never had permission to touch. Like a prayer he didn’t believe in. Like he’d already decided he’d never have it himself, but maybe—just maybe—she could. That was Azriel. Bleeding in silence. Sacrificing in the shadows. And it broke her. “Oh, Az…” she breathed, barely above the whisper of wind. Her voice cracked beneath the weight of it all. “Have you ever thought about it?”

She turned her head, looking at him now, really looking—at the bruises life left behind in his silence, the grief carved into his features like marble, the quiet way he bore everything no one else could carry. “To have a family?” she asked. “To fall in love?” Her voice was softer now. Gentler. “Have you ever let yourself dream about it? Even just once?” There was no accusation in her voice. No pressure. Just heartbreak. Just the raw, aching hope that maybe somewhere beneath the armor and ash, he still had something left of himself that hadn’t been taken. Something that could still want. Because she wanted. She wanted so badly it hurt. Ella swallowed hard, forcing the lump down her throat. Her voice came out quieter than she meant, hoarse from smoke and feeling. “…I would pay it,” she whispered. “Even if it cost me everything. Even if it kills me in the end.” She took a long drag, eyes never leaving him. “Because I’ve already been bleeding, Azriel. Every day in this life. And if I’m going to hurt anyway… I want it to be for something that matters.” Then, softer, almost like she was afraid to say it out loud: “For someone who matters.”

He took another drag of the cigarette, the flame snapping back to life with a soft crackle. The end glowed red as he drew in deep—longer than usual—held it there in his lungs like it might burn through whatever answer she was hoping to hear. Smoke curled past his lips, slow and steady, before dissolving into the night between them. He didn’t look at her right away. Didn’t need to. Her words were still hanging in the air like ash—soft, aching, dangerous. He smoked again. A slow drag. Another pause. Then, finally, he spoke.

“It’s not foolish,” he said, voice rough around the edges. “It’s dangerous.” The words sat heavy between them, but he didn’t stop. “Falling in love. Having a family. That’s not weakness. Wanting it…” He shook his head faintly. “That’s the strongest thing a person can want in a place like this.” His jaw ticked, muscle twitching tight beneath his skin. He stared out ahead—past the glittering, merciless stars, past the quiet ache between them—like he was seeing something long gone. “It makes you bleed from the inside out. Gives people something to aim for when they can’t hit you.” He looked at her now. Steady. Honest. “They’ll use it. Use them.” The tip of his cigarette flared again, briefly lighting the sharp lines of his face. “So ask yourself,” he murmured. “Are you willing to pay it?” Another breath. Smoke drifted from his mouth like a secret he hadn’t meant to share. He flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette, the ember tumbling to the ground between them. Then quieter—barely above the hum of the night, “I hope you get it anyway.”

[feelslikesugarinme777]

Girl I just found out the account of the guy I have a crush on, (he used to have a huge crush on me) AND WTF he follows girls that posts in bikini or that publish thirst traps. HE LOOKED DIFFERENT FROM THE OTHER GUYS WHY THE FUCK HE HAS CHANGED SO MUCH

I’m so sorry you found this out bestie, but… I’m going to hold your hand when I say this… no man is different. You should block him immediately because even if you confront him about this, and he unfollows the girls, he will look for these things in a hidden way.

These so called “different” guys try to appear as if they are different, just to trick us, but deep down all guys are the same. They are manipulative, they know what women like and what they don’t like. They know we hate when guys follow half-naked girls on instagram or talk to lots of girls, so they don’t do this, but instead watch porn or create a fake account. I mean take a look at the drama between TheWizardLiz and her husband Landon. He appeared different and fooled Liz, who is very experienced in spotting toxic men. He wrote a book about her, gave her a 100k diamond ring, showed that he loved her, got her 4 months pregnant, only to go ahead and cheat on her through SNAPCHAT. And he also said this was going on even before she got pregnant .

I want to also add, that there is a very small percentage of men who are decent human beings. But the rest of them are all the same, they are all lust-driven deep down. Even the most religious ones, the ones claiming to be religious, are lustful. Most of the sexually transmitted diseases are caused by men having had sex with animals. And don’t even think that men back then didn’t cheat on their wives in some way or another. Back then they had brothels and men would go there, have their little fun, and come back home to their wives.

I have met a handful of guys, all were different from one another. I could go on for days of how each one was, but my point is and forever will be, anything and everything a guy does for you, will always boil down to sexual things.

Take care my loves, be safe, and don’t let anyone take advantage of you 🩷