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bluwavez · 4 months

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YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO PLAY AS KIWOO !

THE DEEPDIVE EXPERIENCE is a simulation game where you will experience the members' lives up until now. Currently playing as KIWOO, the story will contain themes and situations of GRIEF, DEATH, SUICIDE, DEPRESSION, NEGLECTFUL PARENTS, and MANIPULATION. Please click off now if these themes and situations will be too much for you.

CLICK HERE TO CHOOSE WHO TO PLAY AS NEXT.

— 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝟏 ; 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃.

CURRENT INVENTORY:

Your favorite teddy bear named Lucy. A copy of "Weathered Blossom" by Park Wang-Suh. A cup of tea you'll share with your mother. A bandaid for your scraped knee. Your love for your big sister, Namjoo. Stickers you stole from Namjoo's room. Strawberries for later. Your favorite treat, gummy worms. A collection of CDS your father gave you.

The house you grew up in is dusty and small. Your parents work typical office jobs that you don't know much about. You just know they're tired and don't have much time to clean the house. You wish it was cleaner here, but that's only when you think about it for too long. You have an older sister, Namjoo, who loves to sing and dance like your father did, but only on the weekends. It's been a long time since you've seen your father smile.

You're the apple of your sister's eye. She cares for you like a mother should. She brushes your hair before school, helps you with homework, and even makes dinner for you when mom is working too late. You love your sister very much. She's your best friend. You smile every time you see her even when she makes you learn silly girl group dances.

Namjoo says, "I have dreams of being a dancer. You can be the singer. You're a good singer, you know?"

You didn't know, but now you do.

— 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝟐 ; 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒.

CURRENT INVENTORY:

A camera you bought at a thrift store. Depression and Anxiety, a blossoming friendship. An invitation to train at Angelico Entertainment. A journal your mother gave you. Your love for your big sister, Namjoo. Books, lots of books. Tea you drink by yourself.

At fourteen, you realize you're gay. It wasn't a shock to anyone else but yourself. Your mom was more understanding than you thought she would be, but deep down, you know it's because she doesn't really care about your life, just getting you out of the house. Your father didn't react, just saying, "Tell me something new." He went back to eating his dinner with nothing in his eyes. Namjoo was supportive but told you to keep it to yourself. She says, "People are mean to gay people. I don't want them being mean to you for something you can't change." So you didn't tell anyone else.

At fourteen, Namjoo drags you to an Angelico Entertainment audition. You didn't really care about K-pop or being an idol--In fact, you want to be a librarian, but Namjoo can't do anything without you, just like you can't do anything without her. You two sing "Give Love" by AKMU without missing a beat, and doing the choreography Namjoo flawlessly made you practice for weeks. You're good at dancing, even if it hurts your ankles.

The table of judges loves you two. They adore your sister, but they favor you more. You're younger and a boy, but you can hit high notes like a girl. The man who sits at the center of the table, Son Jinhwa, his nameplate says, tells you that you have the potential to be a star. You've never thought about being a star before.

You start training the next week and move out of the house at just fourteen. You think it's normal.

Training is hard—really hard. You get called ugly by the managers, a pig by the dance instructors, and useless by your vocal coach, but you pass your evaluations with flying colors every time. In fact, you're one of the top trainees in the company. Even being in the top ten trainees, you feel useless and tired. You're so tired.

When Namjoo fails her third vocal evaluation, she's cut from the trainee program. You see this as your way out, and without question, you begin packing your bags with her.

"No," She tells you firmly. You knit your brows.

"I'm going with you. I always go with you."

"Not this time. This is a big company, Kiwoo. You heard Jinhwa. You're going to be a star."

"I don't want to be a star."

"Sometimes we don't have a say in what we become." You had never seen Namjoo this serious before. You hate it. You start to cry because the thought of doing this without her sounds even worse than hell. You experience your first panic attack right there on the spot. Crying, gasping for air, feeling like your heart is going to explode, you can't breathe even with Namjoo counting down from ten to calm you down.

Despite this, you keep training and Namjoo goes to a different company. A smaller one. She's sure to debut there.

You're fifteen when you get put on the survival show. The New Wave. It's awful.

Most of the boys are mean and don't want to be friends. Everyone but you is desperate to debut; you're only desperate to get to your phone to talk to your best friend and sister. Namjoo's debut is coming up soon, and if you want to be there for her debut stage, not competing on a survival show, you have no chance of winning.

Or so you thought.

The people like you—they like you a lot. Your rank only gets higher every week, and by the finale, you're in sixth place. You barely made it, but you made it. You're debuting with six other boys you either don't like or don't know the name of. Either way, you're excited. You cry when Jinhwa announces your name because you just can't believe it. The worst is over, you think as you stand on that bright blue stage.

You were so naive.

— 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝟑 ; 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒.

CURRENT INVENTORY:

The keys to your parents' house, you rarely use them. Tea bags for you and Noah. Matches because you hate using lighters. Hunger. The grief it's weighing you down significantly.

You never told anyone, but when you were 17 and Namjoo was 21, you two began planning how you two were going to kill yourselves. After only two years of activity, she brought it up first after her group disbanded. You were initially indifferent to the idea, but the more you two talked about it, the more serious it became. Truthfully, what did you have to live for?

DeepDive wasn't doing well. They weren't doing horrible, but they were underperforming to the point that Jinhwa often shipped you guys off to Japan. The group did well in Japan—nothing crazy, but better than they've ever done in Korea. You two texted about the plan daily since you couldn't see Namjoo in person. Every day, every hour, paragraphs about how and when you both will die and how freeing it will be to be dead, to feel nothing, to sleep forever.

Aside from the endless Japanese promotions, you found great success in singing OSTs for dramas you've never watched. Your songs perform well; they chart more than your group's songs, but you can't even bring yourself to care. The impending thought of your own demise sucks every bit of energy from you. Your success means nothing because it's fleeting. Death is forever.

Then you're eighteen, and Namjoo jumps off the bridge over the Han River. The detective told you she most likely died on impact when you went in with Jisung to identify her body. Your parents weren't in the country, but for once, you were.

It's an awful experience. It alters your perception of life, death, and everything in between. Seeing your best friend's dead body, feeling how cold and stiff her hands were, it changes everything—Her death changes everything. After the funeral, you go on a hiatus. You can tell by the looks in your groupmates eyes they don't think you'll come back and you truthfully don't know either. This failing group of boys you can barely bring yourself to care about is the last thing on your mind.

After a week of not getting out of bed, Jisung calls your mom because he's worried. She tells you to move back home, saying, "We should all be together right now."

You throw a fit—a massive fit. You shout at your mother the loudest you ever had, screaming at her to leave you alone, spewing the unspoken truths at her, and laying your family's business out for the entire dorm to see. There's not much business to air out, and that's the problem. Your parents weren't there. Namjoo was. She was the only family you ever had, and now she's dead, completing a plan that was supposed to include you without you. Your mother had no right to mourn, and neither did your father.

After that, you stay in the dorm, mainly in your room, rotting in your bed to the point your sheets fuse to your skin.

Jisung and Noah take care of you. Jisung helps you shower no matter how humiliating that is; Noah brings you food and sits with you even when you don't say anything for hours; Jisung sometimes sleeps in your room on the floor to wake you from the nightmares that become a nightly occurrence. Despite their kindness, you wish you were dead. You fantasize what it would be like to overdose in your bed and have one of them find you, altering their life forever.

You don't know why you think this way. You just do.

It takes you six months to rejoin the group and step outside again. The small group of fans DeepDive has collected rejoice when you step on stage again, screaming and clapping for you despite not even opening your mouth. For a brief moment, you have a purpose.

Suddenly, you're nineteen, and Jisung looks at you differently. At that point, you've never had a boyfriend, never even kissed a boy, and you're too busy. You've always been working. He calls you cute, and it makes your heart flutter. He puts his hand on your waist during promotions and when you two are in the kitchen, and he needs to get by. He watches your lips when you talk instead of your eyes. It's love, you think every time you look at him.

It took a lot of convincing, pestering even, for you to agree to have sex with Jisung for the first time. You're nervous and don't know what you're doing, but it's fine because it's love, and by the end of the discomfort, you'll be his boyfriend.

You never end up being Jisung's boyfriend. When you ask about it, he looks at you with so much pity you'd think he was looking at a wounded animal, not you. You feel stupid and used. You hate that feeling, so you end up hating him.

After that, men become easy. You go through them like tissues. It's low risk because no one knows who you are. DeepDive is slowly gaining traction, but it is not enough to make your face notable.

2020 hits like a brick. DeepDive has topped every chart and won every award you're nominated for. You're unstoppable, quickly becoming the global face of K-pop. It's very jarring, but idol life seems to be that way. One day, you're living off cup ramen that tastes like plastic, and the next, you're on Jimmy Fallon telling him about how much you love Arthea Franklin.

You're so busy you forget you're depressed. For once, you really feel like you're living your life. You're not happy, but you're not depressed.

You're finally just living.

— 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝟒 ; 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄.

CURRENT INVENTORY:

Books, you still love to read. Sweet treats you baked yourself; baking puts you at ease. Your journal. The anger, you don't know where to put it. The grief, you just can't let it go. It's too comforting.

You're twenty-three now.

You're wildly successful career-wise. You have a ton of money because of your golden voice. You're adored by your group's massive fanbase. Life worked out pretty well for you all things considered.

But the depression made you mean, and the grief made you bitter. You belittle your friends' decisions, and you shoot daggers with your words at the man you say you love. You're not sure you can love anyone at this point. You haven't spoken to your mother in years, and your father hasn't spoken to you even longer. You have no plans to speak to your father ever again, but sometimes you long for your mother's hand through your hair when you're upset.

You live a good life, you suppose.

#˗ ˋ 🌊 dive deeper ﹕ underwater !#kpop oc #fictional idol community #idol oc #kpop addition #fictional idol oc #kpop au #oc kpop group #bts addition #idolverse

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inaflashimagine · 11 months

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Did someone say a Nagumo fic? I would like to see it 🤲🏽

ask and you shall receive (pasting 2k below bc i'm unhinged)

–

You’re considering poisoning the vice principal of JCC.

It’s still in the planning phase, of course. But the true challenge, if this impossible task were to ever be achieved, would lie in the execution portion. Before leaving the airtight rooms of the laboratories, all students in the poisons department must properly discard any concoctions they’ve made in the fume hood (and any other chemicals that require extra care in their disposal are handled by the 24/7 toxic waste team). As many faculty in the department often repeat during their classes, the greatest poisons a student could ever make are arrogance and ignorance. For that reason alone, anything made for off-campus assignments is safely stored by lab managers in the school’s securely locked freezer until they must be given out.

Not to mention that every poisons professor also practices their due diligence by constantly updating the school chemicals inventory, which includes keeping track of the approved materials and poison recipes that students can take out of an extensive library of hazardous reagents, toxic substances, and highly coveted venoms.

That doesn’t mean that students haven’t tried to outsmart faculty or find a loophole in the system. Third-year Tanaka Kaito thought sneaking out with the tiny glass bottle containing his newest poison inside his mouth was a smart choice; and it might’ve been, if he hadn’t tripped over the lab assistant’s foot, which, coincidentally, happened to be in his way. Peers smarter than him have managed to avoid ruptured intestines or chemically burnt mouths, but considering these individuals–of which there are many–still fail and end up being expelled, stealing such precious items is not a risk many in your department are willing to take.

You understand the delicate position JCC is placed in when students break the institutional rules; since the JAA requires any poisons that are used by assassins or during non-educative assignments to be manufactured by those with a toxicology license, it makes sense that the JCC would adopt the most stringent guidelines to avoid a bad reputation.

Still. It doesn’t hurt to dream–or at least, you can’t get expelled for wishful thinking.

Besides, you have to find some way to pass the time in this dreadful class.

“Who are you thinking about killing this time?”

You blink, your eyes falling on the person who interrupted your delusions. The one who makes this class even more agonizing than should be tolerable.

“What makes you think I want to kill someone?” Flipping over the pages of your notebook to a blank one, you begin to scribble today’s course topic and can’t help but note the irony of you desperately wanting Ito-sensei to enter the room so he can start your least favorite class.

The Art of Espionage: For Intermediate Learners

From your periphery, you can see your dark-haired classmate leaning back into his desk chair as he deftly twirls a pocket knife in his hand, unfazed that all of his weight is balanced by one precious metal leg. He laughs lightly at your question, but it’s difficult to catch any mirth that follows it. “I always assumed only assassins carry bloodlust, but you proved me wrong. Though I guess I should’ve seen it coming.” His smile widens, a hint of smugness tugging the corner of his lips as he points the blade toward you like he’s just pointing a finger in your direction and not a potentially lethal weapon. “The ones in the poisons department do love holding grudges.”

You don’t know what others see in Nagumo. Sure, he’s objectively attractive–it would be stupid to argue that fact, and you’re not blind. And yeah, he’s one of the top second-year candidates in the intelligence-gathering department (though there are rumors of him wanting to transfer to the assassin program)–that’s not a surprise for someone who comes from a prominent family of spies, even if it is quite funny that the tidbit is well-known despite everything else about him being shrouded in the largest cloud of mystery…

…but any of those appealing characteristics seem to be thrown out the window the moment he begins to talk. And boy, does he talk.

“See, if I didn’t know any better,” he speaks up, yet again, eyes closed into half crescents as he cheerily jokes, “that annoyed look on your face says you wanna kill me!”

“Well, if you must know, you’re the third on the list. The first person is the vice principal for not switching me into another class.”

Each semester all JCC students must enroll in one class that falls outside the curriculum for their major. This is to ensure that their graduates are competent in all skills that they may need to succeed on the field or in the lab, even if it is unlikely they’d employ every skill on a daily basis. Since the best assassins, spies, weapons makers, and poison experts in the world are adept at rapidly adapting to different situations, it makes sense that the JCC would implement such a rule for their students. But that doesn’t mean you have to enjoy following said rules.

Your first semester at JCC wasn’t too bad. Technically, only third years can matriculate in poisoning classes–though there are a few introductory courses and practicums you can take starting your second year–so you’ve grown well accustomed to enrolling in classes that are beyond the usual chemistry and physics gambit. And since all students are allowed to rank their top choice electives, you were fortunate enough to get the History of Weapon Craft and Creation (considered one of the easier electives for those outside the weapons fabrication department).

The semester after, you barely passed Firearm Handling & Defensive Training, but at least that class improved your aim with the laser guns in the cafeteria, meaning getting less of those horrid JCC bowls. Yet your luck quickly ran out at the start of the second year, as this semester you now find yourself to be the only poisons department student in a room filled with good-looking, downright intimidating, and incredibly sharp intelligence-gathering students.

You have no idea how you were even allowed to take a class with prerequisites that are nested in the intelligence-gathering department, but your grievances fell on the deaf ears of administrative staff who didn’t even apologize for the scheduling mishap. (Then again, these are the same people who don’t bat an eye when students in the assassin department are gravely injured and even die during an assignment or in the middle of class. It’s no shocker that the second-year class size has considerably dwindled from last year.)

With all other courses being full, your choice was to stick to this option or switch to Martial Arts & Tactical Hand-to-Hand Combat for Advanced Learners. Even if you can’t avoid your fear of looking like an idiot in front of Japan’s future spies, you can at least evade the terror of literally dying by the hands of the country’s strongest assassins-in-training (you heard Sakamoto Taro was a killing machine, a fact you would be happy to simply believe rather than test out for yourself).

However, your earlier fears have now evolved into a living nightmare after Ito-sensei announced that everyone would be assigned a partner to work on assignments together throughout the semester. You didn’t know who Nagumo was until your roommate Asami gasped at the mere mention of him (which isn't even his full legal name! What is he, Prince?). Banging your head against the wall might be a more pleasant experience than having to hear her complain–for the umpteenth time–that you get to learn from such a ‘genius’.

Admittedly, it's only been a few weeks into the semester, but you're still having trouble identifying the genius part.

“Wow, how scary! I’m terrified!” Nagumo sounds anything but after hearing your empty death threat. “Who’s the second?”

“None of your business.”

“Aw, don’t be like that! Do I know them?”

You think about it for a second, drawing the potential lines forming the network before shaking your head. “Well, actually, yes. Because congrats, you’ve just been bumped up to #2.”

He grins at that, big eyes crinkling. “See, now that’s a better response! But wait, am I third–”

“Second, now…”

“–right, second on the list because I forgot to do my part of the presentation? I swear I meant to get to it, but I got carried away with an outside mission.”

Genius? More like a lazy piece of shit, you think bitterly, eyes squinting at him to scrutinize what he’s hiding under those large dark eyes and that apparently innocuous grin. Of course, because you suck at intelligence-gathering, you come up with nothing other than a pathetic, “Stop lying, you sucky liar.”

The corners of his lips droop a bit further down than usual, but he still manages to adopt that customary smile of his and waits for another beat. Fully aware that the silence and staring make you uncomfortable.

“About the mission or getting the work done?”

“Both.”

“You’re funny!”

“See what I mean about the lying?”

The chair he’s sitting on instantly lands on all four, the harsh sound of pegs scratching the linoleum floors making you startle against your better judgment. One hand rests on his chin as he raises a brow at you, clearly amused. “But really, why would I lie about either part? If it makes you feel any better, I’ll make sure we get top marks on today’s presentation.”

You only have enough time to offer your exasperated sigh as an answer, since Ito-sensei finally walks in and announces the start of today’s presentations.

“Good afternoon everyone, apologies for my tardiness as a meeting went over. In preparation for your first exam next week, each group will be reviewing a different fundamental skill for carrying out espionage. First tactic: seduction.”

When you hear your name and Nagumo’s being called out, your suddenly heavy legs slowly drag their way to the front of the room, already anticipating to make a fool of yourself with your half-assed presentation on how to seduce a target, a skill all these students staring at you in boredom more than likely have performed a thousand times before.

Straightening your posture, you’re ready to begin your long unnecessary speech on the purpose of seduction until Nagumo yawns. Loudly.

The action has you momentarily pause, soft tittering spreading throughout the classroom until you narrow your eyes at your beaming partner, clear your throat, and continue.

“Seduction can be used as a weapon when the person employs the technique to obtain an objective, as seen in–"

“This demo we’re about to show!” Nagumo cuts in, waving his hands animatedly as if about to introduce a mesmerizing performing act. Your confusion only continues to grow as he sharply turns on his heel to face you, bewildered to see that his usual bright smile has been replaced with a more coquettish expression on his face.

“What are you–”

“The word seduction means to ‘lead astray’ in Latin. Doing such a thing means you have to observe your target’s every move. How they move. How they look at you. At others. At their surroundings.” Every step he takes forward means you take one step back. Until you find yourself hitting the wall, your eyes widening with how cold it feels against the back of your neck. “How they react. How they respond to you.”

He doesn’t even have you pinned, his arms laying idly by his sides while you dumbly acknowledge you can easily escape right now. But for some reason, you feel trapped under that curious gaze, the upward quirk of his lips sending a weird shiver up your spine.

“Catch the changes in their body language.” He tilts his head, and when strands of his shaggy black hair tickle your cheek you fully realize the distance–or lack thereof–between you two. “Are they fearful? Or are they open to receiving your advances? Do they approach you just as eagerly?”

Since when did he get so close?

You gulp when his hand dances over your hip while the other outstretched one reaches your face, and you hate how your head instinctively leans toward the motion. It becomes harder to stand your ground while your gaze flits back and forth between the inked numbers on his fingers and those half-lidded eyes, a darkness so rare with how inviting it seems.

As he delicately brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear you wonder if he can hear the frantic hammering of your heart against your chest. Even if he can’t catch it, you can tell by the slight way his eyes glisten that he certainly knows, and maybe even relishes, the effect he has on you–the way you’re futilely trying to snap out of the reverie you’re currently in, drunk in the smell of whatever woodsy fragrance he decided to wear today mixed with the sickly sweet scent of that caramel candy he was chewing on earlier.

Well, fuck.

“And it’s in that moment, when their mind is distracted and more focused on you than their own thoughts”–his nose brushes yours, and your breath hitches as all you can do is close your eyes–“is when you make your move.”

You feel your lungs deprived of air the second he presses you deeper into the wall, one hand still on your hip as he uses the other to swiftly grab a piece of paper tucked in the back pocket of your pants.

A sharp inhale is what returns you to reality, your jaw slackening upon seeing him retreat and wiggle the neatly folded piece of paper he stole from you.

“Nagumo,” you nearly growl as you feebly attempt to get it back from him, which only seems to get him more excited as his face breaks out into a full-blown grin and he waves the item higher with that freakishly long arm.

“Should I unfold it? Reveal to all the secret recipes?”

“Do it and you die!”

“Is that a joke or a threat?” As if he’s some film actor breaking the fourth wall, he turns his head toward your classmates and winks at them. “You can never tell with poisons students.”

The room erupts into laughter.

If only you did lace that paper with poison! You’re mentally preparing to fight (and definitely lose) to him when Ito-sensei’s booming voice keeps you two in check.

“That’s enough, I believe we extracted the main point of your presentation. Either return to your desks or report to the staff room after class for wasting more of our time.”

Both of you don’t need to be told twice–you practically sprint to your desk while an elated Nagumo hums a merry tune from behind, your mind still reeling from what just happened while the chaos in the room dies down and the next group begins their presentation on deception.

How the hell was Nagumo able to do all of that? A presentation you conducted research and rehearsed for around two hours was something he easily accomplished in less than five minutes. And with you as the guinea pig! The thought makes your cheeks burst into flames, but you refuse to hide your face for fear of appearing weaker.

“What did I tell you?” He tosses the paper into your lap–still folded into its original position–as he sends you one of those big smiles that used to give you the creeps but now seems to evoke some other inexplicable feeling. “Top marks!”

The urge to spit out “No thanks to you” is so strong that you have to bite your itching tongue, because that would be a fat lie. So you let out a spiteful ‘hmm’, twitching fingers creasing the folded paper even further.

“Wasn’t it fun teaming up?”

He’s still a bit too close for comfort when he whispers the question, so you lean forward into your desk, trying your best to ignore the buzzing coming from the pest.

“You and I have different definitions of fun.”

“And how would you define it?”

“Not being near you.”

“Guess I’m not the only sucky liar on this team!”

That earns him a glare as you plot several ways to wipe that pleased look off his face. You cross off a few bad ideas that you’re embarrassed your mind even conjured.

“The silent treatment, huh…Didn’t peg you to be the type who does that.”

The eye roll you offer him appears to be a sufficient answer as he lets out a small huff and pretends to listen to his classmates’ project, his bored yawn louder than whatever is being presented. You naively think you’ll be able to endure the remainder of the class without his yapping.

And then he turns to you once again, an impish spark in those large, curious eyes.

“But I just need to ask–what’s written on that piece of paper anyway?”

You press your lips firmly into a straight line and stare at him, bemused that he hasn’t figured it out. He matches your stare, looking at you expectantly. Maybe he’s pretending that he hasn’t read it–with how fast he is, you wouldn’t be surprised if he only needed one or two seconds to skim over the writing.

Then again, you’re the idiot for having a physical copy of your plan to cheat and steal from the school chemicals and rare toxins inventory.

“It’s my formula for a poison that I’ll use to kill you.” Like a psycho, you grin triumphantly upon seeing the way his mouth turns into a tiny shocked ‘O’.

And like the maniac he is, he’s quick to return your smile, though it doesn’t quite reach those indecipherable eyes. “Looking forward to it!”

You’re too proud to admit that you feel the same.

#reader is a psychotic raging bisexual who is obsessed with making poisons and is in love w rion and nagumo what about it #nagumo annoys the hell out of reader esp when reader becomes the poisons expert for the order #(while they also run a perfumery as a front lmfao - the side hustle if you will)#once sakamoto retires reader is so sick of having to now be the one to listen to nagumo #and heavily considers shutting up nagumo by 'poisoning' him (but only so he passes out for a bit)#in the meantime reader just gives meds for nagumo's carsickness but tbh they just make him more violently ill as payback for whatever #shenanigans he pulls on mc #bc no one in that school is sane everyone there is mentally ill and they def get more unhinged leaving it #sakamoto days is such a good read too i need it animated expeditiously so more people are exposed to the goodness that is that series #again this fic will one day be fleshed out once i get more info on my beloved rion #nagumo x reader #the chokehold nagumo has on me #still thinking about him in that ponytail...yeah...

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commodorez · 6 months

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What kind of work can be done on a commodore 64 or those other old computers? The tech back then was extremely limited but I keep seeing portable IBMs and such for office guys.

I asked a handful of friends for good examples, and while this isn't an exhaustive list, it should give you a taste.

I'll lean into the Commodore 64 as a baseline for what era to hone in one, let's take a look at 1982 +/-5 years.

A C64 can do home finances, spreadsheets, word processing, some math programming, and all sorts of other other basic productivity work. Games were the big thing you bought a C64 for, but we're not talking about games here -- we're talking about work. I bought one that someone used to write and maintain a local user group newsletter on both a C64C and C128D for years, printing labels and letters with their own home equipment, mailing floppies full of software around, that sorta thing.

IBM PCs eventually became capable of handling computer aided design (CAD) work, along with a bunch of other standard productivity software. The famous AutoCAD was mostly used on this platform, but it began life on S-100 based systems from the 1970s.

Spreadsheets were a really big deal for some platforms. Visicalc was the killer app that the Apple II can credit its initial success with. Many other platforms had clones of Visicalc (and eventually ports) because it was groundbreaking to do that sort of list-based mathematical work so quickly, and so error-free. I can't forget to mention Lotus 1-2-3 on the IBM PC compatibles, a staple of offices for a long time before Microsoft Office dominance.

CP/M machines like Kaypro luggables were an inexpensive way of making a "portable" productivity box, handling some of the lighter tasks mentioned above (as they had no graphics functionality).

The TRS-80 Model 100 was able to do alot of computing (mostly word processing) on nothing but a few AA batteries. They were a staple of field correspondence for newspaper journalists because they had an integrated modem. They're little slabs of computer, but they're awesomely portable, and great for writing on the go. Everyone you hear going nuts over cyberdecks gets that because of the Model 100.

Centurion minicomputers were mostly doing finances and general ledger work for oil companies out of Texas, but were used for all sorts of other comparable work. They were multi-user systems, running several terminals and atleast one printer on one central database. These were not high-performance machines, but entire offices were built around them.

Tandy, Panasonic, Sharp, and other brands of pocket computers were used for things like portable math, credit, loan, etc. calculation for car dealerships. Aircraft calculations, replacing slide rules were one other application available on cassette. These went beyond what a standard pocket calculator could do without a whole lot of extra work.

Even something like the IBM 5340 with an incredibly limited amount of RAM but it could handle tracking a general ledger, accounts receivable, inventory management, storing service orders for your company. Small bank branches uses them because they had peripherals that could handle automatic reading of the magnetic ink used on checks. Boring stuff, but important stuff.

I haven't even mentioned Digital Equipment Corporation, Data General, or a dozen other manufacturers.

I'm curious which portable IBM you were referring to initially.

All of these examples are limited by today's standards, but these were considered standard or even top of the line machines at the time. If you write software to take advantage of the hardware you have, however limited, you can do a surprising amount of work on a computer of that era.

#computer history

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horseshoegirl · 1 year

Text

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 7 - Oh, What a Night!

📜 Have fun with this one! We got reunions! We got tension! We got some heat packing 👀

P.S..... Don't kill me for the ending.

❗ 18+, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, original child, sexual themes, mentions of violence/threats

#5.9K words

Part 6 | Masterlist | Part 8

This wasn’t the first time you worked New Year's Eve, but it was the first time you were staying past midnight.

Penny always had a rule. If you didn’t work Christmas Eve, you worked New Year's Eve. You always found it fair, though you never drew the short end of the stick when you worked for her during school.

New Year at the Hard Deck was always fun. The students in the Top Gun program would be the rowdiest, whether it permitted them to let loose or enjoy the holiday. And the locals loved it here.

Penny would decorate the bar, banners strung from the ceiling and balloons on random chairs. She’d leave the Christmas lights up to make it look festive, and she always splurged on confetti canisters for when the clock struck midnight.

And the best thing? The harbour across the water from the Hard Deck would put on a fireworks display, the best view being from the back deck—where Sadie, Will and Alyssa were currently settled in.

When Alyssa learned Sadie would tag along with you tonight, she took pity on her. She decided to forgo her New Year's Eve plans of sitting at home, watching the Ball Drop with Will, to spend it with the pair of you. Penny had graciously set up the Adirondack chairs and a small heater for the three of them as they waited for the display you knew was the only reason Sadie agreed to come.

The bar hadn’t become as busy yet as you expected, but the anxiety for the rush tonight was driving you mad. Penny had run out to do a last-minute errand, leaving you and Jimmy to cover any early customers. You found yourself double-checking and triple-checking the inventory, leaning down occasionally to make sure the bottles of sanitizer were full in the bottom cupboard, despite having just filled them.

And that stupid keg with the loose nozzle was still causing issues.

“Come on, you stupid, goddamn thing!” Huffing in frustration, you kicked it, knowing it wouldn’t solve anything. “Why do you have to do this to me? On today of all days.”

“What did that Keg do to a beautiful woman like you?”

You froze.

Turning around, you couldn't believe your eyes. There was Jake, just like the day you met him, leaning up against the bar with the same cocky Mona Lisa grin, taking in your reaction to his sudden appearance.

“Jake!” you almost squealed, quickly making a run for the opening of the bar. Jake laughed wholeheartedly as you slid coming around the corner, hand whipping out to balance yourself before throwing yourself into him.

Jake bracketed his arms against your back the second you leaped, pulling you further up and into him tightly, your legs swaying as you continued to laugh happily.

“When did you get back?” you managed to ask through your laughter.

“Late this morning,” he chuckled into your shoulder. You didn’t want to let him go. He was here. He was back. And suddenly, the mystery ache in your chest from his absence was disappearing with each second he held you.

“Where are the others? Are they here?”

“Not yet,” he said, putting you down but not letting you go, hands travelling to your waist. “On their way, I might have snuck out early.”

“Jake, please tell me you're not going to get into trouble.”

“Nah, I just got my report done before everyone else.”

You unwound your arms from behind his neck, your hands sliding down, slowly coming to rest on his chest. Peering up at Jake, you couldn't help the gentle smile.

"Hi."

He returned your grin before looking down at your mouth, murmuringly lowly, “Hi, darlin’.”

“You want to see her?” you asked happily. Jake's stare lasted a few seconds before a soft smile stretched across his face, and he nodded. “She’s here?”

You couldn’t help your glee. Sadie was going to be so excited.

“Jimmy!” you shouted, turning in Jake’s arms. “Can you handle the bar for five minutes? Somebody needs to say hi to Sadie!”

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Jimmy walked out to smile at the sight of Jake standing next to you.

"Ah, Hangman! Welcome back!" he exclaimed, reaching out his hand. Jake gripped his forearm, his grin wide as he greeted him back. “Jimmy, it's good to see you.”

“Everyone made it back, okay?”

“Just by the skin of our teeth.” He joked. Something made you uneasy about how nonchalantly Jake spoke, whether he was serious or not. You knew you couldn't really ask what happened while they were deployed, but that didn't mean you weren't concerned for their well-being.

“Go say hi to our girl. I can take care of it,” he winked at the both of you.

Jake held your hand as you led him out to the back deck, coming to stop just before the doors. You turned to him, pressing a finger to your mouth, telling him to be quiet and to remain hidden.

When you stepped outside, Sadie and Will were deep in a conversation, Alyssa with her nose buried in her phone. She looked happy, you thought, a different comparison to Christmas day. While she seemed to have a good time, the traditions that she and Ridley had that you tried to keep up only made her sad. And you couldn’t help but shed a few tears when she admitted she thought she could be making new traditions with everyone else while opening her gifts, staring at the ones she left under the tree for her aunts and uncles.

“Bug!” you called out to her.

She turned her head mid-conversation, and you resisted the urge to laugh, her entire body, minus her head, encased by the big fluffy blanket she had brought with her.

“There’s somebody here to see you!” you called out to her, barely containing your excitement.

Sadie leaned forward in her chair, thinking somebody might be behind you before looking to the door with a curious gaze. You motioned for Jake to leave his hiding spot. He took a gigantic step, placing himself in her line of sight and out of from behind the door frame, his voice loud as he said, “I heard somebody missed me?”

It took Sadie all but three seconds to gasp.

“Uncle Jake!” she shrieked, blanket floating behind her as she practically flew out of her chair. Sadie slammed herself into his legs, gripping him tight as the first bouts of happy tears started to make themselves known. Jake did a double take, registering what Sadie had called him, a new weight settling in his chest.

Sadie wanted him in her life. She wanted to have him as one of her honorary uncles. A slow smile spread across his face at the thought. He leaned down to peel her off his legs, picking her up and spinning her in a circle while laughing with her.

“Wait, does that mean Auntie Nat and Uncle Roo are back? Uncle Bob?” she asked as he came to a stop, putting her down.

“Coyote, Payback and Fanboy, too,” he nodded, kneeling beside her, his hand coming up to wipe at one of the tear tracks on her face. You never saw her smile as big as she did then, dimples on full display as she tilted her head back towards the sky, shooting her arms up in joy, before going to hug Jake once more.

You weren’t surprised Sadie didn’t want to let him go - her hand was small in comparison as it rested against his wide shoulder. But it seemed like he didn’t mind, looking at you with a smirk every so often as Sadie filled him in on what he missed before looking back to her with interest. He latched on to the warplane museum story, asking her about all the different planes she saw; Sadie happily named off the ones she remembered.

Alssya came to stand beside you, bumping your hip with hers as she watched the pair interact with each other.

“Whose this hunk?” she asked, making googly eyes at Jake. “Is there something you're not telling me?”

“What, Jake? He’s just a friend.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, friends.”

“Lyssa, don’t. He doesn’t really have anyone else. And Sadie adores him.”

Alyssa stared at you, really stared at you, before shaking her head. She leaned down next to your ear as she returned to her seat.

“Just friends don’t look at each other like that.”

____

You got another break when Penny returned from her supposed errand, though it was more like a 'supposed reunion' with a certain Captain. Bob, Fanboy and Payback had followed her in not long after. Sadie booked it from sitting on Jake’s knee, crashing into them while crying and hugging them.

Then shortly after, Rooster, Phoenix and Coyote arrived. Rooster hung back as Nat swept Sadie up in a full-bodied hug, Coyote also picking her up, much like Jake did and swung her in a circle. But last to the approach was Rooster, Sadie turning to spy him nervously, smiling at her as he held out his arms. Sadie stood stock still, tears welling in her eyes and her face becoming red as she held out her arms in front of her, racing to Bradley as he knelt down, pulling her into his arms.

Out of all the people she welcomed home tonight, Rooster’s welcome made her cry the hardest.

The night progressed. You noticed Jake and Coyote playing a game of pool from behind the bar. Sadie had spent, and was still spending, a good chunk of time curled up in Nat's lap, retelling her the stories of what she missed while coming down from her crying spree. Bob was with them, sitting next to Sadie while striking up a conversation with Alyssa. Fanboy and Payback had left after saying hi, explaining they already had plans to go back home for the rest of the holidays.

And Rooster found his perch, sitting at the piano taking requests.

Your found family was back. And you couldn’t have been happier.

You were saying goodbye to a customer when Coyote approached the bar, smiling as he ordered more drinks for himself and Jake.

"How was she?" he asked as you reached down to get two beer bottles. "While we were gone?"

“She was miserable. Worrying about you guys every day,” you answered, taking each bottle to the opener fixed to the door. “The video chats really helped. I’m sorry I couldn’t speak with all of you guys. Cyclone made me choose.”

Coyote shook his head, chuckling to himself. “It’s okay, Liz. We knew you were thinking about us.”

"How was everyone else?" you placed the beers down on the counter. Javy turned, looking out at the rest of the squad.

"Missing home,” he said while looking at Jake.

___

Penny finally came to relieve you again a half hour before midnight.

You found a quiet booth no one had touched yet, sliding all the way to the back to put your legs up on the bench, sighing in relief when the pressure came off your ankles. You tilted your head back against the wall and closed your eyes. You finally felt like you could breathe and take a moment for yourself.

Till you felt a hand on your bottom ankle, lifting up your legs so somebody could slide underneath them.

“Whoever that is, you have five seconds before I kick you off this bench.”

“And here I thought you missed me?” Jake replied back amusedly, hand resting on your calf. You kept your eyes closed, though you smiled fondly.

“I’ll still kick you off this bench. This is the first time I’ve sat down in hours.”

"Nope, I don't think so." He said, pulling your legs forward and trapping them in his hold as your butt slid forward on the slippery wood. You let out a startled laugh, your hand whipping out to grasp the table to prevent the back of your head from connecting with the wall.

"Hey, watch it!" You called out, laughing with him as he dramatically held your legs closer. That was until he caught you staring off into the distance, eyes unfocused, once he noticed your laughter dying down.

“What’s wrong?”

You jolted. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. Just tried."

He didn't buy it. “I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me what’s wrong.”

He could read you so well, you thought. You weren’t fine. Ever since finding the letter, you were on edge, looking over your shoulder in parking lots and grocery stores, making sure you were never late to pick up Sadie from something. Or if Penny or Alyssa did, you’d stress making sure they let you know when they had her.

It was only a piece of paper. And yet, it was burning a hole in your pocket.

Sighing, you slid your legs off Jake’s lap, using the momentum to sit next to him and pull Tyler’s letter out of your back pocket. It had been folded over so many times from you looking at it that the page was starting to crease.

“Take a look at this. I found it in Ridley’s stuff.”

You held it out to Jake. You couldn’t help but leer at his hands, prominent veins moving while long fingers worked to unfold the piece of paper. You watched his eyes scan the page, eyes tracking over the words until they paused at the bottom. You knew the exact moment he realized, his body becoming stiff and tense sitting next to you.

“That fucker.”

You gulped. Jake turned to face you, harshly throwing the letter down to the table. “Do you think he’s the one who put the review in?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think he can.”

“Liz, he was threatening her." His words made you drop your head to the table. Your voice was muffled as you replied sadly, “And Sadie.”

The contents of that letter scared you more each and every time you looked at it. Tyler had written inquiring after Sadie, demanding your sister return her to him or else. There was no legality in what he was requesting, Tyler having signed his rights over. And after witnessing what he did to your sister, there was never a hells chance you'd let him get close to her.

You’d sooner die than let her suffer at his hands.

It was a quiet cry on your lips when threading your fingers through the roots of your hair, you admitted, "I'm so scared, Jake."

“Did you take this to the police?”

“What good would that do?” you cried out, pulling your head back up. “They’ll probably tell me there’s nothing they can do without evidence he’s actually been in contact with me. That letter is how many months old, Jake.”

You picked it up, playing with one of the edges, bending it back and forth.

“I keep looking over my shoulder. Worrying about Sadie while she’s at school. That he's going to do something,” you sniffed, pressing the heel of your hand into your eye before letting the letter fall once again to the table.

"Elizabeth."

You turned to face Jake upon hearing your name. He looked furious, his jaw firm and a vein on his forehead protruding angrily. "I'm not going to let that happen. He'd be flat on his ass in two seconds before he got that close to Sadie," he spoke harshly before his face relaxed slightly. "Or you."

"I can't ask you to do that. You're not getting in trouble for us."

"Too fucking bad."

Feeling overwhelmed, you pressed your forehead into the side of Jake’s shoulder, taking the opportunity to try to compose yourself before turning to rest it against his shoulder. Jake turned his head, pressing his lips to the top of yours, murmuring into your hair, “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

You leaned back, looking up at Jake thankfully. However, you were suddenly confused by the look of determination on his face.

Liz," he said softly. "There's something I need to tell you."

You straightened a little, placing your hand on top of his resting on the table. You couldn't hide the concern from your voice when you replied, "Of course, Jake. What's wrong?"

Jake took a deep breath, turning his hand over on the table to grasp yours. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped when he noticed the worry in your eyes.

Unfortunately, in that hesitation, it took almost two seconds for Bradley to slide into the booth opposite, a permanent scowl on his face as he immediately remarked, “And what do we have going on here?”

“Hi, Rooster,” you said, turning to him while attempting to force a smile on your face, letting Jake's hand go to place it under the table.

“You two seem pretty close. Something you want to share?”

The heat in his voice caused a bundle of nerves to form in your stomach. You knew what it looked like, you and Jake being this close to each other. You hadn’t really told him about Sadie, and you knew any attempt to tell him now would only result in complete denial, to cover up whatever he thought he knew.

You picked up the letter on the table before looking up at Jake.

"It's up to you," he told you, not bothering to once turn towards Bradley. “I’m not saying a word.”

Jake’s choice of words didn’t help either. But you respected that he was letting you choose to tell Bradley about the issue with Sadie for yourself. And something told you he would back you up either way.

“Bradley, whatever your thinking...”

“I don’t know, Liz,” he interrupted you. “I think you didn’t listen to us when we told you to stay away from him. That he's bad news."

"Wow, subtle Bradshaw."

Rooster ignored Jake, still eyeing you harshly.

"Are you fucking him?"

You felt Jake tense beside you, a hand coming out to grip your thigh. Instead, you calmly asked, "How much have you had to drink tonight, Roo?

He didn't answer, too caught up in his words to listen to you. “Are you even thinking about Sadie? What this might do to her? Do you even care to think about her first? You're her aunt, you should be!"

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

“Jake, let me up. I need to get back to Penny.”

He didn’t move. “Your break isn’t over yet.”

“Too fucking bad.”

Noticing your need to escape, Jake stood up to let you out. He reached out when you weren’t mindful of the coat hook above your head in your desperate urge to flee. His hand prevented what would have been a painful moment for you, and despite the pain on your face from Rooster’s words, you managed a small smile in thanks after your head bumped his hand.

You took two steps forward before deciding to stop, turning around in a silent rage, only to throw Tyler’s letter to the table to stare dead into Bradley’s eyes.

“It is about Sadie, you asshole.”

Jake watched as you stomped off back to Penny, helping to relieve her of the sudden line forming around the bar. Penny’s face was one of gratitude as more people eagerly gathered in line to get their next drink before midnight. As he sat back down, Rooster watched you march off with an open mouth.

“And here I thought you liked staying on that perch,” Jake leaned back, staring at Bradley while crossing his arms. “Observing, learning everything before you made your move.”

“Fuck off, Hangman.”

“You might want to take a look at that before you start mouthing off. Least of all to poor Liz.”

Rooster glared at Jake before looking at the piece of paper you threw down to the table, reluctantly picking it up. Jake remained seated as Bradley read, his eyes frantically moving back and forth the longer he read, and not unlike Jake’s reaction, Bradley reeled back, dropping the letter to the table as it burned him.

“Motherfucker.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

Rooster eyed the piece of paper wearily. Then he started to put two and two together. Jake knew something he didn't. And he didn’t like that.

"What's going on, Hangman?"

It took Jake a moment to think about what you’d want him to say. Bradley was always a stubborn person. He didn’t know your reasons for not telling the rest of the Daggers what had happened. But if Tyler really was going to follow through with his threats, Sadie needed to be protected. Bradley needed to know.

“CPS called Liz in a few weeks before we left. Somebody put in a review on the paperwork for Sadie’s guardianship.”

Rooster was stunned. Out of all the things he expected Jake to say, that wasn't certainly one of them. Jake's words sobered his rage, at least for the moment.

“Can they do that?” he asked, throwing himself back into the seat in disbelief.

Jake nodded, replying, "Somebody requested it from the outside. It wasn't internal." Bradley took a moment, staring at the piece of paper now in between them.

“She says the list is non-existent, though my money is on Tyler if his letter isn't a dead giveaway," Jake glanced down, picking up the letter. He was brought back to that day of the hike when you told him of Tyler and your family, how you told him about the promise you ensure Sadie never suffered the same trauma you did growing up. He folded it up as you had done and pocketed it into his pants. “Regardless if she says he can’t.”

Rooster thought about his words before asking, "Why didn't she come to us?"

“If you haven’t noticed, she puts up a mask whenever she’s around you guys.”

Rooster scoffed. "How would you know? You’ve only really known her for less than a month.”

Jake didn’t hesitate when he answered, “She’s the first to ditch on a Saturday night—collecting the dishes and disappearing when nobody else is looking, not bothering to ask someone to help to carry them in. And you should know better than anyone, Liz doesn’t have a tendency to ask for help.”

It was true, Bradley thought. Not once did you ask for help with anything. He practically had to sweet talk you into letting him pick up Sadie from school. But regardless, if it was about Sadie, you still would have let them know.

"She still would have told us."

“Really? Cause I think it’s no wonder she didn’t trust you if you’re resorting to calling her names because you saw something you didn’t like.”

Bradley had enough, sliding out of the booth and starting in the direction of you to set the picture straight.

“Bradshaw,” Jake called out after him. “Have you really asked her how she’s been since bringing Sadie home?”

Bradley stopped but didn’t turn around. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t be the only one that notices she clams up when her sister is mentioned. Whatever you see, It's clear she’s not grieving.”

Bradley turned back around, staring at the floor for a few seconds before looking back up at Jake.

“Whatever resentment you have for me, can you at least can it for now? Until we figure out who's targeting Liz and Sadie.”

Rooster sighed, making his way back over to the booth and popping himself back into the seat.

“Okay, fine,” he relented. “Until Sadie and Liz are okay.”

“For Sadie and Liz," Jake nodded, looking down to straighten his nameplate. “Besides, I’ve officially got Sadie's stamp of approval. What type of Uncle would I be if I didn’t look out for her?”

Looking back up at Bradley, Jake had to give Sadie credit.

Her statement about his ability to turn 'Red as a Rooster' was surprisingly accurate.

___

At five minutes to midnight, you found yourself ringing the bell three times. Jake and Bradley were the closest to you, having stayed in the booth talking. You’d be stupid not to realize Jake would have filled in Bradley regarding the issue with CPS. It was the longest you’ve ever seen them together in each other's company, let alone that close to each other, without deciding to tear one another apart.

The minute the guy realized, somewhat drunkenly, he would be manhandled by two naval officers out of the bar, he quickly got up with both hands raised. Jake led him outside with a hand on his shoulder while Rooster stayed behind, observing you somewhat regretfully.

“I’m sorry, Liz.” As he spoke, you didn’t look him in the eye, deciding to polish a glass instead. This only made Bradley feel worse, hating that you were treating him like he wasn’t in the room.

"I should have..."

"Should have what, Bradley?" you snarked, pulling the rag from your shoulder and throwing it into the small sink under the bar. "Should have asked why I was so upset before jumping to conclusions?"

You glared at him, leaning forward on the edges of the makeshift counter. "For thinking that I don't put Sadie first? For thinking that I was fucking Jake?"

Some of the older patrons sitting at the bar shot you a look. You grimaced at your choice of words, but it didn't stop you from raging. Lowering your voice, you continued, "You know damn well I don't do anything without making sure she'd be okay. That she comes first before all else."

“I just wish you would have told us. We could have helped.”

You sighed, looking down and picking up your rag. “Honestly, Bradley. If I told you why, you’d hate me.”

Rooster paused for a second before replying, “Because of Sadie.”

You looked up at him, instantly regretting it once you saw the look of pity on his face. You couldn’t stand his face, suddenly deciding you needed to collect the empty glasses Penny had left on the side of the bar. Only Rooster followed along the opposite side, coming to stand directly in front of you.

"Bradley, don't."

He didn't listen to you. "She's always with us. Saturday nights, special occasions, simply hanging. If not, your working."

You placed the whiskey glass in your hand down, head hanging low as you fought the pressure behind your eyelids.

"You don't want her to know what is going on. And I don't mean with Tyler or CPS, but with you."

You gripped your forearm, bracing yourself for his next words.

"It's okay to grieve Ridley, Liz."

His words made you crumble.

God Dammit, Rooster.

"I'm sorry I said you don't put Sadie first. I know you do. We all do," he said gently. Then his next set of words surprised you.

"And I'm glad you at least told someone. Even if it was Hangman."

That made you pause, finally deciding to look him in the eye and let your arm go, already knowing you were going to forgive him for his words about Sadie. But while you didn't care for the implications behind his words regarding you, there was something you needed to get off your chest. Your voice was fierce as you gave into that split-second urge to divulge the one thing that had been bothering you since after the Hike.

“Don’t shit on Jake all the time, okay?”

He gave you a look, arching a brow almost playfully, but dropped his face the minute he realized how serious you were being.

"I get it. To you, he's rude, ignorant, and defiantly says the wrong thing at the wrong time. And he might be a womanizer, but he's been nothing but good to Sadie, okay? And me."

Bradley’s face remained blank as you continued. "Sadie's picking up on all the animosity and hates it. So either you get over whatever issues you have with him and be there for Sadie, including letting Jake be involved in her life, with the rest of the Daggers in line, or I don't accept your apology.”

"Okay."

Wait, What?

You looked at him shocked. He nodded to you once, knocking on the top of the bar twice with his knuckle before turning on his heel to leave. There was no way it was that easy, especially with Bradley.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" you called after him.

Bradley whipped around, hands gesturing out as he replied, "Because you asked," before continuing his walk to reclaim his previous spot at the piano bench, calling over his shoulder, "Besides, it's a new year. We need to make resolutions and shit!"

You had no idea what happened after you left Jake and Bradley to their own devices, but you couldn't help but chuckle, even somewhat nervously, at Bradley's sudden carefree attitude.

How long it would last was another thing.

After a quick bathroom break, you caught yourself in the middle of the Hard Deck as the final countdown started. You spied Will and Sadie with the sparklers you had brought, waving them around to match the numbers being said aloud.

Alyssa had joined Rooster momentarily at the piano, and you had a feeling she was purposely putting herself in a place where she’d be easily accessible for a midnight kiss. Something you'd be grilling her about the next time you saw her.

Coyote was standing next to the girl he had been chatting up all night, Bob and Phoneix were shouting the countdown together, and Penny and Mav smiling at each other.

But Jake was nowhere in sight.

You sighed, turning around to go back to the bar, anticipating the rush once Penny popped the bottles of champagne. You were one step in the opposite direction before hitting a solid chest, a cry of surprise escaping your lips as a pair of arms came to stop you from toppling over.

Jake was coming back into the bar when the countdown started. In years previous, when he wasn’t stationed somewhere or found himself out celebrating, he’d generally chat up a girl to seal the deal with a midnight kiss, which would usually end the night in someone’s bed.

He had nothing but you on his mind, searching for you as he walked, finding you staring out the back doors to look at Sadie and her friend before your eyes travelled the rest of the room. You were there, standing in the middle of the floor, and as he told you not once, not twice, but three times now, you were beautiful.

Time has a funny way of changing your priorities. Time spent away from your friends, family and home. Moments when you have nothing but time, waiting around for something to happen. Instances where, in life-or-death situations, you found yourself wondering how much time you had left.

Would he ever own up to the fact that one of the photos Sadie must have accidentally sent him ended up in his cockpit? A photo of you from the picnic when Sadie was messing with the blanks. You weren’t looking at the camera, not even aware she had pointed it at you nor taken it, but rather staring off over the lookout, a soft smile on your face.

And on those runs, the ones where enemy fire was inescapable and on the ones where they’d simply fly over doing recon, he’d look to that picture and think about you.

He thought about how you scared him with your presence, how you cared. You challenged him to think more about life in the sky, the impending moment he would eventually burn in, simply by allowing him to see into your and Sadie’s lives. How much more time would he have left to be a part of your lives?

Women always told him he wasn’t the type you’d settle down with. He was the one-night stand, the fling from the bar the night before deployment because it would be the last time he’d ever feel something. Being involved with him came with consequences, and it was just too high of a price to pay.

And yet, before he left, you told him to come home. On that video call, you told him to come home. Sadie even wrote to him on the back of her plane photo she wanted him to come home. So he secretly found himself looking at your picture, at Sadie’s, wanting to come home to both of you.

You were off limits.

But he was tired of listening to what others were telling him to do.

If the world, fate, or whatever guiding force was telling him all those other times weren’t right to kiss you, a kiss to start a New Year had to be it.

He found himself behind you, about to say your name when you turned, slamming yourself into his chest with a cry, and wobbled, so close to falling over. He reached out to grab you, pulling you upright and into his body.

Ten, Nine, Eight…

"Jake?" you asked concerningly. His eyes were blown wide, just a bare line of green making up his irises. Looking up in worry something might be wrong, you found nothing of the sort.

“What’s..” you started to say, but the words died in your throat. Jake’s hand came up to grip the side of your face, fingers hooking themselves around the edge of your jaw, pausing momentarily before sliding to the back of your neck to find a grip within the roots of your hair.

You drew in a sharp breath, feeling like your body was drowning underwater, ears muting out the shouts of everyone counting down around you. Instead, the voice in the back of your head took over, strangely sounding a lot like your sister's, attempting to encourage you to believe It must be lust.

Seven, Six, Five…

He found himself tilting your head back, pressing forward where your noses nudged together. Your fingers mocked his, slipping delicately up his cheek and settling into his hair. Finding yourself thinking, what harm would it do if you did give in to whatever this thing was if it felt so right?

Four…

As Jake’s grip got tighter on your waist, you started rising on the balls of your feet to meet him, pressing your body into his. Ridley’s voice, a mantra in your head, was screaming fuck it, fuck it, fuck it as you felt the warmth of his breath caress your lips.

And Jake, wondering how you’d feel under him. What would your lips taste like? Would they be as soft as he’d imagined on those sleepless nights on the carrier during his deployment? Or would you kiss him as you did in his dreams, the ones that would make him startle wake?

Three…

But then came the little traitorous thought, ‘Would you care for it if he did?’

Two, One…

At the last second, just before the final shout of Happy New Year, Jake moved, pressing a delicate kiss to the farthest corner of your mouth instead. The sound of popping outside overtook the sound of your heartbeat as you registered the softness of his lips just on the barest part of yours, his hands relaxing their grip on the back of your neck and waist.

His words warmed your cheek as he pulled back an inch; his breath was shallow as he spoke, “Happy New Year, Liz.”

You almost chased his lips, eyes fixed on his mouth, as you managed to choke out a reply.

“Happy New Year, Jake.”

Hehe, I'm sorry for another 'almost' kiss. I promise stuff is happening soon.

Tags:

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@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern

Part 8: Drift Away is coming Soon.

Wickett ;)

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