#tempests chickens

[lookat-allthose-chickeeeensss]

You got games on your phone?

[t3mpest98]

To whoever stole his braincell….pls give it back he chooses violence every morning pls

[tempests-bards-and-birds]

good luck to everyone on their pulls!!!

[dr-dendritic-trees]

Varice patted his arm. "Nonsense. You are far too polite. Since we can't hit bullies without getting into trouble, we learn to say cutting things. "To start with," Ozorne added. "You're always joking," Varice said, crinkling her nose. "May we please finish our meal?"

I do not like the implications of this passage both re: the expectation that Varice redirect Ozorne, and re: bullies really like victims who escalate.

[moocowmoocow]

All he ever wanted to do was the done thing All he ever wanted to make was the grade But as long as you live for other people’s opinions You’ll never be more than afraid

[beedalee]

Tempest of Lightning ⚡

August 2023!!! 💕 ❤️‍🔥 ⚡ ⛈️ Very excited abt this one 😂 I've wanted to do fanart of mommy urbosa since BotW- better late than never lol!

I've been chipping away at tears of the kingdom and I’ve been LOVING falling through the sky as my primary means of travel and avoid all major battles as often as possible because i am absolute chicken sh*t lmao. It’s been great fun!!!! 🥰

shoutout to @dyemelikeasunset  who helped me make sense of that sword 🥴❤️

[llamagoddessofficial]

I love Farmtale Sans a lot. But also, living in the country isn't always sunshine cottagecore magicalness. It can suck. But... here's some unromantic country stuff that I think could actually be very romantic when you're with him.

As mentioned before, the two of you end up spending a lot of time in the car together. The nearest big store is a ways away, after all. On those long drives, the radio often cuts out for long periods of time... it can feel pretty lonely, especially at night. But when you're together, it's alright. You sleep with your head against the passenger window, your coat over you, holding his unoccupied hand through the quiet.

He gets a call in the middle of the night from someone else further into the village that there's a surprise rain shower coming through tomorrow, and they need to move a lot of kit indoors ASAP before it hits. He grumbles, but heads out anyway. ... An hour or so later, in the middle of a dark cold field, he sees your flashlight rushing over to him. You have a flask of steaming soup and a tupperware box with a slice of hot pie inside. Despite your fear of the dark and bugs, you made your way out to him. He feels himself fall in love even harder, and just like that, the task takes half the time.

When your home is as exposed as country houses can get, the wind can be really fucking loud. Especially if your room is on the windward side of the house. It can sound like a train is driving over your bedroom at night. You decide to sleep on the couch, both because you can't sleep and because you're nervous about how loud it is; it's difficult to rest when you can literally hear the roof rattling and the shingles jumping up and down. Sans, even though his room is absolutely fine, opts to join you. He lights the fire and gets comfy with you, then stays awake so you feel comfortable enough to fall asleep. You wake up the next morning snuggled up to his chest.

The weather is horrendous pouring rain, cold and damp and treacherously muddy. But the animals have to be fed regardless of the weather. You both go out into the early morning darkness, feeding the chickens and cows, checking on the crops, making sure nothing is leaking, hands almost frozen. You come home absolutely drenched in a thick mixture of rain and mud. And as much as Papyrus complains, refusing to let either of you past the porch until you strip all your dirty items... he's got hot lunch waiting for you both, dry pyjamas and thick socks hanging up over the stove, warm blankets on the couch. There's nothing like the feeling of sheltering from a tempest in someplace cosy. Even if the power does keep going out.

[heexseung]

꒰ 🥂 ꒱ ┄ ❛ dark academia ；puppy ❜

* pairing: vampire!jake x werewolf!reader

* tags: smut, female!reader, dom/sub dynamics, peer pressure, misunderstood bad boy jake, exhibitionism, female masturbation, getting caught, fingering, handjob, slight puppy play, puppy!jake, maid!jake, jake being a good boy

* summary: somehow your pack forces you to make a bet with them; fuck Jake Sim in a week or pay for their food for the whole week.

* word count: 9.5k

* a/n: hey loves !! it's been a while, i only hope that you're all doing well 💓 this repost is way overdue, i hope you'll enjoy it regardless 🦭 also, if you haven't already, go listen to tempest 👀 they have bops !!!

Supposedly, hanging out with your pack should be comforting and fun but that's not always the case for you. It's not that you dislike hanging out with them, it's just that most of the time, they can get very annoying, not for you but for the people around you; they get noisy so they kind of disturb the peaceful atmosphere and you're not very fond of that. You just don't want to annoy anybody.

Even now as you sit with them in a beautifully decorated cafe, they're being noisy, talking and laughing about whatever it is they're talking about — you barely pay attention to their conversations anyway. Most of the time, they just gossip and it doesn't interest you so you take no part in it. Taking a sip from your favourite drink, you then swirl the paper straw around the glass, wondering when you'll be able to go home.

"What do you think, Y/N cara?" Luna sits across from you, her question catches you by surprise. You look at her in confusion as she snuggles up against her mate, Alfie, hugging his muscular arm.

"Sorry?" You say.

She just rolls her eyes in response, not even surprised that you weren't paying attention. Owein who's sitting beside you, simply snickers and say, "Luna cara, you should know by now that Y/N cara doesn't care about our conversations." He sighs dramatically, "Nobody knows what she's thinking."

Lovette, sitting beside him, slowly nods in acknowledgement and takes a bite of her chicken sandwich.

"Forget about that cara," Felan tells Luna, who has now completely averted her focus towards what truly matters: her veggie sandwich. He then turns towards you with a worried look and continues, "Y/N cara, you are not eating?"

Giving him a small smile, you reply, "No, caro. You can have my share."

"But cara, you have to eat!" He protests.

"Wait, now that you mentioned it, Y/N cara hasn't been eating with us, right?" Alfie asks, now worried as well.

Truthfully, he's right. Nowadays, when you hang out with your pack, you lose your appetite. You're not sure why.

"Exactly!" Felan exclaims.

Right as he says that, Lovette gasps and slams her hand on the table. Her usually bright and cheerful expression turns to anger as she hisses, "Did someone call you fat?"

Upon hearing that, Luna also gasps in shock, thinking, how dare they body shame my friend! Anger is apparent in Felan's face, his eyebrows furrow and his eyes narrow at the bare thought of someone being rude to you. Meanwhile, Owein has his mouth open in shock at the audacity of some people.

Before you could say anything, Lovette continues, "Who are they?" She leans in closer to you and narrows her eyes. "We'll ruin their lives."

"Now hold on, cara. Let's not jump to conclusions." Alfie tries to calm down the situation but his voice is overshadowed by yours.

"No, no. That's not it," you quickly say, hoping that they won't suddenly start making assumptions and going overboard.

"Then you can eat, cara," Owein says with a smile. With an open hand, he gestures towards the plate of delicious sandwiches at the middle of the table and asks you, "Chicken or veggie?"

When you hesitate to answer him, he continues with a confused look, "Or do you want egg? You like egg, no?"

Felan excitedly jumps in, "Yes! They sell egg benedict here!"

Usually, the mention of egg benedict would have you feeling enthusiastic and giddy but as much as you love the delectable dish, you're just not hungry right now. You don't want to eat either... but if you don't eat, they might make a fuss out of it.

Actually, their care towards you surprises you. You didn't expect them to care whether you ate or not. You're thankful that they care for you a lot, even noticing that you haven't been eating with them much lately, but now you kind of feel forced to eat when you don't really want to. 

But it's fine, you tell yourself. They have my best interest at heart.

Giving your pack a small smile, you grab a chicken sandwich and say, "Ah, it's okay. I'll just eat the chicken sandwich, it looks good anyway."

"That's the spirit, cara!" Owein happily exclaims and goes back to drinking his iced coffee.

It seems that your action causes everyone to settle down since they all seem visibly more relaxed now. A moment of comfortable silence later, Owein puts his hand on the table and speaks up, "Anyway, back to the news!" He quickly turns towards Lovette. "I cannot believe they did that right in the dorms. I honestly thought he would be a goody-two-shoes like at least he won't do it at the dorms but he did, damn. I was wrong."

As you take a bite from your sandwich, you hear Lovette's serious voice. "Caro, me too. Honestly, I kinda don't believe this bullshit like do people honestly think I would believe Lee Heeseung and that human fucked in the dorms like- that doesn't make sense to me."

Luna jumps in, "But they did! Everyone could hear them!"

Before Lovette could say anything, Alfie starts speaking, "Honestly, cara, everyone has a slut side. I mean, I wouldn't be surprised." He then gives a knowing look to Luna that she returns, which makes everyone scowl and groan, including you.

"Keep it private, for Gods' sake," Felan says, rolling his eyes as Lovette fake barfs.

Owein rests his head on his hand and sighs in frustration. What he says next is unknown to you because you're already zoning everyone out; again, you're not interested in these kinds of conversations. Taking another bite of your sandwich, you start thinking about what you want to do when you get home.

Loud laughter echoes throughout the cafe and as usual, your pack attracts a lot of attention from the other customers. You pray to the Gods that your pack won't disturb anybody too much like last time; you really don't want to get kicked out.

Suddenly, you hear Lovette calling your name. You look at her with a confused expression and then look around at your pack; they're all quiet and curiously looking at you, waiting for your answer.

"Huh?"

They all just groan and give out exasperated sighs in response. A short moment later, Alfie kindly explains what Lovette had asked of you while rolling his eyes, "She's asking about your last fuck."

Ugh, not again.

Your annoyed expression makes them laugh.

"Let's guess, let's guess!" Lovette says excitedly. "Wait, let me go first! Okay, hm…" She squints her eyes as she thinks. "Two days ago?"

Luna quickly jumps in after her, "I think it was last month." She turns to look at you and says, "You seem very sex-deprived, cara."

"What do you mean sex-deprived?" You look at her judgingly.

"She's right, you know." Owein nods and then takes a sip of his drink.

"Are you kidding me?" You ask in disbelief.

"I mean, you wouldn't be like this if you weren't sex-deprived." Luna shrugs and takes a sip of her drink.

Lovette nods and whispers, "That makes sense."

They exchange agreements while Alfie just laughs and comments, "If you're sex-deprived, you can always ask Felan to help you out."

You sigh and shake your head at their antics while Felan simply shrugs. Felan is a good person, at least you think so. He's been the most caring towards everyone in the pack and likes to help everyone out, even sex-wise, so it's not a surprise to you when Alfie brings it up. Not to mention the fact that you actually had sex with him before anyway. But right now, sex is the last thing on your mind. You're just not interested in it.

It takes you a while to realise that they're still waiting for your answer. When you do realise it, you sigh in exasperation and quickly make something up. "It was two week ago or so."

"Two weeks?!" They all stare at you in disbelief, stopping whatever it is they're doing.

Taking a sip of your drink, you reply nonchalantly, not letting their reaction faze you, "What? What's wrong with that?"

Luna gives an exasperated sigh, Owein just shakes his head while Lovette crosses her arms. Felan and Alfie don't react that much to your words. Your pack just looks at you in disapproval. There's even a bit of pity in their stare.

Feeling annoyed, you defend yourself, "I'm just not in the mood for sex these days. If I want sex then I'll have sex but for now, I don't want it. I just want to chill."

They just stay dead silent as they share glances with each other. You can tell that they obviously don't believe you by the way they look at you. Somehow, it annoys you more and you impulsively continue, "Look, I can fuck anyone I want in our university, I just don't want to."

Their eyes light up right after you say that. They share surprise and mischievous looks with each other; bright eyes, raised eyebrows, smirks or teasing smiles. Soon, Luna speaks up to break the silence. With a teasing tone, she asks, "Are you gonna prove it to us?"

Before you could say anything, Owein excitedly jumps in, "Prove it to us, cara."

Alfie tries to calm down the situation but is quickly interrupted by Lovette. "Oh, my Gods! How about you try to fuck Jake Sim?!"

Are you kidding me?

Owein and Luna both gasp at her words. Immediately, they both start talking at the same time. Alfie starts talking too, again trying to get everyone to settle down. Lovette tries her best to hear everyone but fails, given by her confused look. Meanwhile, Felan is just silently chewing on his sandwich.

This situation is making you stressed and as much as you love your pack, it's obvious that they can be a handful sometimes. By the time you're able to comprehend what everyone's saying, they've already settled on a bet.

Clapping her hand, Luna stands up and excitedly exclaims, "So it's official! Our lovely Y/N cara is gonna fuck Jake Sim!"

"Wait, what?" You ask, confused.

Lovette stands up as well, raising her drink up. "To our lovely Y/N cara!"

"It's a bet! You have a week, cara!" Owein says to you, his glass already clinking with Luna's. "Or else, you're paying for our food for the whole week."

And soon, every one of your friends is doing the same and cheering for you — once again disrupting the peaceful atmosphere of the cafe. You can feel some people getting annoyed at you and your pack, even the employees; you feel a bit bad about it, more so when you realise that you don't really want to partake in this stupid bet in the first place. But everyone's just celebrating and having fun and you don't want to ruin the mood.

Sighing defeatedly, you reluctantly agree to the bet anyway.

♡♡♡

It turns out that fucking Jake Sim isn't as easy as you thought it would be. Hell, it's even hard to find him on your campus, you've actually never seen this guy face to face. He must be in a completely different section of the university. It kind of annoys you since you only have a few days to fuck him or else you're paying your pack's meals for a whole week — and paying for one meal for yourself is already fucking expensive.

At first, you thought they'd just forget about it but they keep reminding you daily about it. They keep bringing it up, asking "hey, have you fucked him yet", it's driving you insane. Just yesterday, they made you pay for their drinks while eating lunch together because you still haven't been able to fuck him.

Of course, you could just lie… but that's kinda fucked up. Plus, you're pretty sure you're gonna get exposed for lying anyway and your pack doesn't tolerate lying. Always being truthful to each other is one of your pack's policies.

Hence, you've now resorted to asking people around about him. At first, you got nothing but with a little bit of persistence and determination, you've managed to get some valuable information and now you're standing right outside one of his classes, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed as you wait for his class to finish.

It doesn't take long and a few minutes later, you see people start leaving the class. You briefly look at each person one by one and eventually, after almost everyone has already left, you finally see him — Jake Sim, dressed in mostly black except for his soft green T-shirt, leaving the classroom with his hands in his pockets and his backpack on one shoulder.

At the sight of him, your breath catches in your throat — my Gods, he's fucking gorgeous.

It's not an exaggeration when people say vampires are so attractive but this man just takes it to a whole other level. He has an extremely handsome face; cute and hot at the same time and albeit his body is covered up, you can somehow easily guess what it looks like underneath — a gorgeous sexy body just waiting to be marked up. You could see your teeth biting his neck, him moaning into you, his fingers in your hair and suddenly you just can't help but think to yourself, you actually wouldn't mind fucking him. Perhaps your friends were helping you out?

Clearing your throat and snapping out of your thoughts, you realise that you're being inappropriate and highly so.

Also, he's looking at you.

And you notice him looking at you. That's when he quickly turns and walks away from you. But there's no way in hell you're letting him get away so easily, not after all the work you've put into finding him. With a grin, you approach him as he walks to the elevator.

However, before you could say anything, he's already talking, "If you're here for that reason then don't bother, my answer is no."

Is he talking to you?

You look around to make sure. Seeing that there's no one here except you two, you wonder how'd he get to know about your intentions. But then you realise that your pack gossips a lot and they gossip with other people too so they probably slipped it out somehow.

After realising that, you slightly nod in understanding. So he doesn't want to fuck. Are you surprised? No. Will you give up? That's also a no, so you ask him with a sweet voice, "Okay, how about I buy you dinner first?"

Surprisingly, he chuckles in response — his laugh deep and rich, it makes your heart flutter. You both stop walking when you're standing right in front of the elevator. Pushing the down button, he turns towards you and says, "I'm rich."

Fuck, you forgot about that.

"I mean, yeah but it's still nice to have someone treat you, no?"

"No."

Fuck, how is this going to work?

Honestly, it's fine if he doesn't want to fuck — okay, it's a bummer but what else can you do? No means no. But what sucks is that you have to pay for your pack's meal for a whole week and Gods know how expensive it is, given by the fact that you eat together almost all the time.

Desperate to save your money, you plead with him, "Look, can't you help me out? We don't have to fuck, we can just say we did it?"

Your words cause him to sigh in frustration. As he runs his hand through his hair, his eyebrows furrow and he starts frowning. "No. I don't want more dumb rumours spreading about me," he says in a melancholic tone, "You and your friends have already done enough. Besides, why would I ever help you out?"

Before you can reply, you hear your friends' laughter from across the hallway. Fuck, why are they here? And how did they find you?

Turning towards the sound, you see Lovette and Owein approach you two, their playful smiles evident as they get closer. Mumbling a curse under your breath because you know they're gonna fuck things up for you, you quickly press the down button. But alas, the elevator isn't going to reach you before they do.

You cringe a bit when you hear Lovette's cheerful voice near you, "Y/N cara! Oh, it's Jake."

"Oh!" Owein looks surprisedly at you. "So you guys gonna fuck or something?"

Oh no, here it is.

Turning towards them, you give them a please don't fuck my chances up look. Jake ignores them and you, he's just focusing all his attention at the elevator doors and hope that it'll quickly arrive. Looking at your apprehensive expression, Owein pouts while Lovette gives him an awkward look.

As if he's blind towards the awkward and tense situation, Owein says, "So... that's a no?"

Lovette lightly jabs him at his side and comments brightly, "Well, that's fine! But it looks like you're paying for our meals the whole week then!"

She may be trying to ease the situation but unfortunately, it's not working. If anything, she's making the situation worse just like you imagined it would be because now it's apparent that Jake is not taking you using him for a bet kindly; he looks pissed. Although he already knew about it, there was still some part of him that just hopes it's not true; turns out, it is true.

"Damn... and here I thought you'd give our friend a much-deserved fuck," Owein says with a pout.

"No, thank you," Jake annoyedly replies. "I'd rather die."

His words make you and your friends' mouths fall open in shock. You're offended but you're not that offended, more shocked. Your friends, however, seem more offended than you which is both endearing and concerning at the same time.

Not letting his comment slip by, Lovette looks at him in disgust and says, "Excuse me?"

Owein narrows his eyes at Jake with a scowl. "Wow, you're such an asshole."

Somehow that hit a nerve in Jake. His hands turn into tight fists and even though he tries to look unbothered, his eyebrows furrow and his eyes look like they could kill.

"Hmph." Lovette rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. "Guess the rumours are true after all."

You mean the lies you made, Jake wanted to say. But instead, he bites his cheek, keeping quiet. The elevator's almost here anyway. It's better to stay quiet. Besides, if he starts a fight, he's sure that he'll start getting rumours about him being in the mafia.

"Come on, cara. He's not worth it," Owein looks at him disapprovingly, holding his hand out for you to take. "Jake, you should eat some makeup. Maybe then you can be pretty on the inside too."

Oh Gods, no.

The air around you four gets heavy as he says those words. You just look at him in disbelief, a bit angry at his unnecessary words and rude attitude. You understand that he's just trying to defend you but it's obvious that his words make Jake upset, Lovette's too, and it's something that you can sense even without explicitly looking at him right now.

Before you could tell them to calm down, Lovette jumps in, "Don't be bitter, Jake. Maybe if you were a better person."

That's when they both start laughing, only agitating you and Jake, making the air tenser. You're getting annoyed; they're going too far. What Jake said has not hurt you at all, it shocked you but that's it. You could care less about what he thinks about you. There's no need to be extremely defensive over this. Plus, they're ruining your chances. There's a part of you that can't help but wonder if they're doing this purposely, wanting to see you fail.

Meanwhile, Jake is just so pissed off. He doesn't understand how they have the audacity to tell him to be a better person when they're out here gossiping and spreading harmful and hurtful rumours about everyone. Unfortunately, the elevator's still not here yet and they haven't stopped taunting him either.

"But this is actually surprising Jake, I thought you'd immediately fuck anybody at every chance you get," Owein retorts and laughs.

"What if you're actually a virgin?" Lovette questions. "Is that why-"

Feeling extremely annoyed, you cut her off. "Can you guys stop talking shit?" Your tone sounds intimidating and everyone is just surprised and silent for a while after you say that, Jake being the most surprised. He didn't expect you to stop your friends like that.

Eventually, what breaks the tense silence is the sound of the elevator ring. As the doors open, you quickly grab his arm and pull him into the elevator, leaving your friends behind before they could talk any more shit.

"Don't follow us," you sternly tell them as you push the close button.

They don't. They just stand there, looking at each other in shock and feeling awkward as the doors close. Jake pushes the ground button and as the elevator move, you quickly say to him, "Sorry, I-"

He coldly cuts you off, "I don't care. I want nothing to do with you or your friends."

You have no idea what to say to him so the rest of the elevator ride is silent and awkward while you think of how you can salvage this situation. Honestly, you're surprised that he hasn't blown up at you; if you're him, you probably would've slapped someone by now. You contemplate on just giving up and getting a part-time job to pay for your pack's meals but... you're not one to give up easily, there must be a way.

You hear the familiar ring again and then, as the doors open, you hear him say a soft thanks. It catches you off guard. As you turn to look at him, he quickly moves out of the elevator before the doors are even fully open.

There's no way you're letting him slip out of your fingers so you quicken your pace to catch up with him. Once close enough, you grab his arm again.

"I'll treat you, what do you want?" You ask him as he lets you drag him to the nearest cafe.

"No thank you, I don't need you to do that."

"Just let me treat you," you sternly say to him.

He stops in his tracks to look at you straight in the eye and tells you sternly, "We're not gonna have sex."

You open your mouth to say something but he quickly continues, "No, you can't say that we did either."

Sighing, you look at him, hoping that he wasn't being serious but by the look of his face, there's no denying that he is. He frees his arm from your grip and narrows his eyes at you. "Look, I hate you and your friends. After what you've done to me and to many other people here, why would you think that I'd ever help you out? Much less have sex with you."

His words only bring you confusion. What have you ever done to him? You never even associated yourself with him. You know of his existence but that's it. This is the first time you've seen him. Maybe he's misunderstanding something? And your friends aren't bad people — sure, they like to gossip a lot but that's just harmless gossip, right? Why would it heavily impact someone's life?

"I'm going. Don't follow me. And I don't want to see you anymore so don't try to find me either."

And with that, he quickly leaves the scene, leaving you standing there alone and confused as to why he hates you so much. You quickly get over it though.

♡♡♡

Since your plan to fuck Jake Sim went bust, you've decided to not harass Jake and instead, go with plan b which is getting a part-time job to pay for your pack's meal. It's not so bad, to be honest; you've managed to get hired at a sex toy store and it's only gonna be like a month until you quit. All you have to do is take care of the store — which doesn't sound bad at all… at least, not now.

Why sex toy store? 

Because why not? It sounds fun. Plus, you're no stranger when it comes to adult toys; you actually have a collection locked in your drawer albeit not many. That, and the fact that this is the only place far away from your campus that's hiring. You don't want your friends finding out where you work, they may cause trouble for you.

But something's weird; at the exact place where the store is supposed to be at… is a cafe? You've checked multiple times. This is the address you were given. Maybe the store is inside the cafe?

Cautiously, you walk into the cosy cafe. The first thing that catches your attention is the delicious smell of freshly baked bread and coffee. Ugh, that smells so good. It makes you want to buy something but that's not what you're here for. You look around and take in its decoration — it's very nature-themed but also has a modern twist to it. The colour palette consists of mostly white, brown and green with a few extra colours like yellow, red and blue which makes the cafe look more colourful.

There are a few customers here but not that many; understandable since it's 10am, way past breakfast and way before lunch hour.

One weird thing is the workers' uniforms… regardless of gender, they're all wearing maid outfits; the frilly black and white dress type. Is this a maid cafe? You can't help but think as you make your way to the counter. So far, you don't see any sex toys being sold, just food and drinks.

When you reach the counter which thankfully has no customers waiting in line, you greet the cashier with a small smile, "Hi."

The cashier greets you cheerfully, "Hello! Welcome to Cups of Joy! How may I help you today?"

"Hello, um… Do you sell things other than… food and drinks?" You carefully ask them, hoping that there's actually a sex toy store here and that you didn't just waste your money on the bus trip here.

A look of understanding appears on their face and they reply, "Oh, you want to see the 18+ section?"

"Oh my Gods, yes please." You sigh in relief and laugh. "I'm supposed to work here starting today."

"Oh… you're the new worker! Hold on for a moment please, I'm gonna call the boss for a second. Please take a seat!" They gesture at the empty table a few feet away from you and then proceed to call someone, "Jake, can you please take my place for a few minutes while I get the boss?"

Hold up- Jake? It couldn't possibly be the same one, right?

But then you hear his voice, "Okay, Cal!"

Holy shit.

And there he is, coming straight out of the kitchen with a maid outfit on — it's frilly, it's flowy, it's short, it looks soft and it looks so cute and hot on him. It's nearly impossible to stop inappropriate thoughts from appearing after seeing him in that, not to mention that it shows off his muscular thighs and arms — what the fuck? He's also wearing a cute dog ears headband; you want to scream. You can't help but stare at him in shock, mouth open as he walks out the kitchen doors. It feels like you're in some kind of fever dream.

It doesn't take Jake five seconds to notice you and when he does, he stops in his tracks, a horrified expression evident on his face which quickly turns to anger in just a few seconds. He quickly walks up to you and grabs your wrist, pulling you with him to somewhere private — as private as an open cafe can be.

When you two arrive at an empty corner where there's no customers or staff present, he leans into you and whispers angrily, almost hissing at you, "What are you doing here?"

Before you could even reply, he continues, "I told you I don't want to have sex with you, I don't even want to see you anymore. Why are you following me? Are you a stalker? Do you not understand that I-"

You cut him off by placing your hand on his mouth. It catches him off guard and that's when you take the chance to explain yourself, "Listen, I didn't know you even worked here. I'm only here because I'm working part-time, it's only for a month so don't get the wrong idea."

He pulls your hand off him. "Yeah, right. As if I'd actually believe you."

"It's the truth," you say to him, annoyed.

He leans closer into you, probably an attempt to intimidate you which isn't really working, and says in a threatening voice, "I swear if you tell anybody about this-"

"About what? You wearing a pretty maid outfit?" You smirk.

"Shut it," he hisses at you as his ears and cheeks slowly turn red.

"You look hot in it by the way," you tease him. Taking a step back, you look at him up and down. Shaking your head at how hot he looks and how much you can't stop thinking about how he'd look like when he's lying down on your bed and begging to cum, you ask him with your eyebrow raised, "Is this an everyday thing or a special occasion?"

He rolls his eyes. "No, it's only weekly. And I'm only covering for someone's shift today," he says defensively as he crosses his arms and averts his gaze away from you, too aware of your eyes on him. Somehow it doesn't make him feel uncomfortable, it just makes him feel… weird... but not a bad kind of weird. He also feels a bit embarrassed. Clearing his throat, he tries to push the unfamiliar feelings down.

"Aw, so I won't see you in this again?" You touch the frilly skirt, feeling the soft cotton fabric in between your fingers. Your finger accidentally brushes against his thigh, just a little bit, he doesn't even notice it but it's enough to make you want to touch more of him.

"No. Never. Not even in your dreams, not ever. You won't even see me here anymore because you're leaving. Now."

He moves to grab your arm again but before he could kick you out, he stops in his tracks when he looks behind you, his eyes wide. You turn around to see your employer standing right behind you, supporting a soft smile. She has a very magnetic aura to her, a bit intimidating but deep down, you know that she's very nice.

"Hello, Miss Jo," you sweetly greet her, giving her a smile.

"Hello, love," she softly says, "I see you've met our lovely puppy. Come, let's get you started."

Then she turns around and starts walking. You turn to Jake and give him a triumphant look and a shrug, see, I wasn't lying. And then you follow your employer before you lose sight of her, leaving an annoyed Jake behind.

♡♡♡

Just as you had guessed, the sex toy store is actually inside the cafe. Long story short, Miss Jo led you to a hallway at the right side of the cafe and in that hallway, there are two washrooms on the right side, both with gender-neutral toilet symbols on them and a door at the end of the hallway is where the store is at.

After giving you a small tour of the shop, you started your training with her and it went by smoothly. Miss Jo told you all the basic information; how to greet customers, how to help them with certain stuff, how to handle certain situations, how to package sold toys neatly and secretively, etc. Time goes by quickly and before you know it, it's already your break time and you decide to freshen up in the washroom.

Although the store is a decent size, you still feel the need to get out of here. Maybe it's because of the fact that there are no windows… or the fact that the door stays locked unless someone calls from the intercom and tells you a customer is coming… or even the fact that there are only two people here; you and Miss Jo — when you brought it up to her, she only told you that it's usually only one person here.

Exiting the shop, you make your way to one of the washrooms. Thankfully, there's no one in the hallway and better yet; there's no one in the washrooms either so you don't have to wait to go into one. Choosing the one closest to you, you walk in, close the door and start washing your hands.

It's pretty silent right now except for the sound of the water running. Lunch hour has long gone by so you bet that the cafe is pretty chill right now. Once you're done washing your hands, you take a good look at yourself in the mirror. To be honest, you don't quite like what you're seeing right now; not because you don't like your appearance — no, you know you're stunning regardless of what people say. It's just that now after taking a good look at yourself, you actually do kind of look sex-deprived. So they might've been right after all. 

But the thing is that it's not something a regular person would see... but if it's a werewolf like you, they're gonna notice it if they take a good look at you. And this annoys you. Maybe you can get off before you head back to work? You'll be quick and it's not a problem if no one finds out. Plus, you'll look fresh right after.

You just don't want to go back outside and look like this; one of your kind will notice,  you're sure of it — after all, your friends did. You don't want them to be uncomfortable or worse: pity you. So you've made up your mind. Just this one time and it'll be quick. 

As a catalyst, you know exactly who you're gonna get off to — yup, that guy. The guy who won't leave your mind, he never left your mind when you first met and he definitely never left your mind now, not after you saw him in that outfit. Gods, you just want to ruin him, what's wrong with you? You swear you're not like this to other people.

Bringing down your pants and panties to your knees, not fully taking them off, you sit down on the toilet seat and make yourself comfortable. You decide to slouch and spread your legs since you have better access that way. Not wasting another second, you start rubbing your index and middle finger against your pussy. Closing your eyes, your focus on the pressure and feeling of your fingers on your inner labia.

While doing so, you start to imagine what it'd be like to actually have sex with Jake. You bet that underneath his rough exterior, he'd be a really good boy for you, willing to do whatever it takes to please you. He just seems like that. Or perhaps he's more of a brat and likes to tease and defy you, challenging you to make him submit to you. Either way, you don't mind. You're good with both.

His lips are so full and gorgeous, you could kiss and bite them all day. Imagine how pretty he'd look when his mouth is swollen from kissing you, kissing your body, after eating you out. You wonder if he has the skills to get you off with his mouth; he must have, no? A man who looks that attractive must have some experience. He probably has the skills to get you off with his hand too.

Gods, and his hands — his huge, pretty, manly hands. Just imagining how they'd feel on your body almost makes you moan. It would feel way better with his fingers on you instead of your own.

And his delicious body would just look so gorgeous underneath you. You imagine him in that dress and what he'd look like when he's all fucked up; eyes shut tight, face red, mouth open and panting. He'd look at you as if he's begging you to touch him and you would, he'd shudder at your every touch, flinch when your mouth starts sucking on his neck, buck into your pussy and moan ever so loudly at the pleasure.

Damn him.

You think you've truly lost it, you really do. How are you so affected by this man? To the point that you're literally getting off in the washroom thinking about fucking him. Your hand is wet with your juices now and you slide a finger inside your pussy, trying to keep your moans in — not sure if you succeed or fail — while your thumb stimulates your clit. Meanwhile, your other hand starts playing with your nipple underneath your shirt.

You bet you could make him beg for you just by rubbing his tip against your entrance. He seems like such a good boy, willing to take whatever you give him. Your pussy clenches around your finger at the thought. Imagine if it was his dick inside you instead. It would fit inside you so well and so good. You'd feel so tight around him and he'd whimper in your ear as you start moving up and down his dick, fucking him into oblivion. 

Just as you were about to get close, the door suddenly opens — you jump in response.

Fuck, you forgot to lock it.

You're more pissed off than anything, to be honest. Opening your eyes, you're surprised and blessed by the sight of Jake just standing there, hand on the doorknob, eyes wide open, taking in the full view of your legs spread wide and your wet pussy for him.

If it was someone else, this would be embarrassing but since it's him, this just makes you even more aroused.

"If you're not gonna help me out then leave," you say to him, continuing your actions right in front of him. Looking at him straight in the eye, you part your lips with your fingers to give him a good view. His eyes are focused on your pussy as you slowly insert another finger in and throw your head back, letting out a moan.

With your eyes closed and your fingers moving inside you, you hear the door close. Assuming that he left, you continue on with your administrations, trying to reach your high before your employer thinks that you've been gone for way too long.

To your surprise, he didn't leave — you realise that when you feel his hands on your thighs. Jumping at the contact, you open your eyes only to find him leaning and staring intensely back at you. His lips tremble a bit as he panickingly whispers to you, trying to keep his voice as low as possible, "What are you doing?"

"What do you think? I'm trying to get off," you annoyedly whisper back to him.

He leans in closer to you, so close that there's barely any space between you two, so close that you can feel his breath hot on your face. With the same panicked tone, he whispers, "But you can't do that here! What if you get caught?"

Rolling your eyes, you reply, "I'm not gonna get caught because it'll be quick."

"I just caught you!" Again with the panic. You don't even know why he's being like this; it's none of his business anyway. He can just leave and pretend he didn't see anything.

Realising that you're wasting your time, you try to continue your actions, hoping that he'll be so unbothered and leave you alone. But as soon your hand starts moving again, he grabs your wrist, stopping you and quickly says, "No, you-"

Cutting him off, you snap at him, "Why are you even here?"

Somehow that shuts him up and suddenly, he can't meet your eyes anymore. He awkwardly looks to his left, his ears turning pink as his grip on your thigh unconsciously tightens.

Eventually, he answers you ever so slowly and softly, "I... I heard my name."

At his words, you don't know whether to laugh or be mortified. You didn't even realise you were moaning his name. Not only had he caught you masturbating red-handed but he also caught you masturbating to him. Unfortunately, there's no one else to blame for this situation other than you — after all, you're the one who forgot to lock the door. Before you can say anything, he continues with a blush on his face, looking down at your wet pussy on display and then back at your face, "Were you...?"

His eyes look so innocent, you don't know how they look that innocent when you literally just masturbated right in front of him. 

And you both know the answer to that question, it's quite obvious. After a short moment of silence, his grip on your wrist softens and he eventually lets go of you. You sigh and lean back against the toilet seat with your eyes closed, pushing down the feeling of embarrassment. Honestly, it wouldn't be that bad if he was actually into you but alas, he isn't. He's made it clear that he wants nothing to do with you.

At least, that's what you thought. He manages to surprise you when he softly asks you then and there, as if he’s being impulsive, "Should I... help you out?"

It's shocking to hear that from him. A long moment of silence washes over you two as you digest his words. Is he actually asking to help you out? You just can't believe it. Didn't he said that he'd rather die than have sex with you just a few days ago? 

Thus, you end up staring at him for a while until he gets embarrassed and quickly says, "N-nevermind, I'll be going-"

He moves to leave you be but you manage to hold onto his hand. "No!"

At the volume of your voice, he panickingly hushes you and puts his hand over your mouth. After he senses that you've calmed down, he removes his hand and looks away from you.

"You wanna help me out, pup?"

He slowly nods at you, having some confidence to make eye contact with you again. You can hear his heartbeat quicken. You don't know what's gotten into him to suddenly change his mind about you but you're not gonna waste any moment finding out. Pushing your wet fingers to his lips, your core clenches at nothing when his tongue comes out to start licking your fingers clean, his eyes fluttering close.

What a sight to see; a pretty boy in a maid outfit and puppy ears licking your soaked hands clean.

"Aren't you such a good pretty boy?"

He tries to keep his whimpers in at your praise, not wanting to make too much noise and attract any attention. After your fingers are all clean, he holds your hand and pulls it away from his mouth.

With a stern voice and look, he whispers to you, "You're not gonna tell anyone about this, okay?"

Nodding at him, you couldn't care less. You just want to quickly get off. Grabbing his hand, you move it to your wet pussy, encouraging him to touch you. Your breath hitches at the feeling of his hand softly and slowly caressing your pussy, as if he's exploring every inch. It's kind of romantic in a way but right now, you want to get off quick. Not a big fan of his slow movements, you whisper to him, "Make it quick, I gotta go back to work soon."

"Swear you're not gonna tell anyone?" His breathing is heavy against your ears as he starts rubbing his fingers against your core.

"Yes," you hiss as his thumb starts stimulating your clit. Gripping onto the seat, you start lifting your hips and grind into his hand, wanting to catch your high as quick as possible.

"Okay," he softly whispers. His hands start to move roughly against your pussy; he's obviously trying to get you off quickly but it's too rough to feel good. Thus, you grab his hand and manoeuvre it into a position that you think is good. Telling him to keep his hand still, you use his hand as if it was a toy.

Pushing two of his fingers into your entrance, you bite your lip to conceal a moan. Jake, however, can't help but release a whimper at how tight you feel around him. He knows you told him to keep his hand still but he can't help it; he needs to explore your pussy so he moves his fingers, rubbing his fingertips against your walls. It makes you shudder — he's lucky that it feels good or else you would've reprimanded him for disobeying you.

It takes you a while for you to compose yourself and when you do, you tell him to thrust his fingers in and out of your pussy. He complies with a faint whimper and starts moving, hoping the pace isn't too fast. After every thrust, he makes sure to curl his fingers and rub his fingertips on whatever they're at. His fingers feel so good that it makes you moan so much, Jake has to put his other hand on your mouth to silence you.

Soon, you're reaching your climax. Your hands that were gripping the seat are now playing with your boobs underneath your shirt, hoping that the stimulation will give you a boost to reaching your release. And it does, fortunately. With a thrust from Jake's fingers and a tight grip on your boobs, you finally achieve your climax, letting out a long loud moan as you cum on his fingers.

Jake shushes you again, afraid that your moans can be heard from people. He slows down his movements while you bask in your climax, his breathing hot and heavy on your ear. At some point his dick got hard and it's uncomfortable, he's just noticing it now. He wonders what he should do about it. 

When you finally get your senses back, you're still panting as you pull his hand out of you. Leaning against the seat, you take your time in composing yourself. Not gonna lie, that's one of the best orgasms you've ever had. But then again, you haven’t really had a lot of sex, you just say you do to appease your friends. You look at the man in front of you, his face is red, his hand is covered with your juices and his dick is straining against his underwear underneath his skirt. For being so good to you, he deserves a treat, no?

"Wait," you whisper to him. Getting some tissue paper, you quickly clean yourself up. He moves away from you as you do so, giving you some space but he's still looking at you. 

To be honest, he cannot believe he had just done that — helped you get off. He starts to feel a bit embarrassed at himself. There's a bit of regret that he feels but he can't deny that he enjoyed it way more than he should. He only came here to check if someone needs help since he heard his name being called, he didn't think he'd caught you masturbating to him, moreover kind of having sex with you.

Despite his better self, he can't deny that a part of him feels flattered that you were getting off to him; he doesn't know why but he can't deny that he doesn't mind you doing so. In fact, he might even like it. He wonders if this is the first time you did so, what kind of thoughts you had of him, how you'd touch yourself to him. He didn't think he was that attractive to anybody, especially to you.

He wants to-

Quickly snapping out of his thoughts, he tells himself that he still doesn't like you and that this is just a one time thing. It's not gonna happen again, he thinks. 

You've finally got yourself cleaned up and pulled your pants back up. Now you're just staring at him, making him feel nervous and awkward. He scratches the back of his head and asks, "Um... do we... go now?"

With a smirk, you look at him and reply, "What? You don't want your reward?"

Jake's eyes grow wide at your words. What reward?

Before he could guess, you already have your hands pressing against his hard-on. He moans as your grip on his dick tightens. Quickly covering his mouth with his hand, he involuntarily bucks into you, his other hand goes to steady himself by grabbing onto you.

"Now, now." With a devilish grin, you pull his hands away from his mouth and continue, "That's no fun. Plus, no one's near anyway."

He swallows his saliva as your hands start pulling down his underwear and letting it fall to the ground, leaving his dick and ass exposed underneath his frilly skirt. He steps out of them, not wanting to trip just in case.

It's a good move on his part because now you can easily move him. Grabbing his hips, you move him a couple steps backward. Then, you turn him around so that he's facing the mirror and counter. You then bend him right over the counter — which surprised him a lot. He turns back to look at you after his torso hits the cold counter, but not before hissing at how the coldness of the counter feels against his skin through the dress.

"What are you doing?" 

Lifting his skirt up to his hips to expose his ass, you grope it so tight that it makes him moan; he has to cover his mouth with his hand again. You tsk at him when he does that. Bending over and pressing your body against his so that he can hear your voice in his ear, you whisper to him, "Keep your hands away from your mouth." Surprisingly, he obeys you without question, putting his hands onto the counter. You continue, "Also, a puppy is only capable of barking, you know."

He looks confusedly at you for a moment before you command him, "Bark."

A moment of silence goes by as he just looks at you with wide eyes over his shoulder. It feels a bit embarrassing to bark but eventually, he does so anyway, albeit softly.

"Wolf."

Technically, that's not really a bark but you let it slide since it sounds better. You spit onto your hands and start playing with his dick, using one hand to stimulate with his leaking tip while the other strokes up and down his length. The sensation, albeit soft, still feels good and relaxing to him, it makes him bury his face into his arms on the counter as he shyly thrusts into your hand, silently hoping you'll go faster.

"Good boy. Now if you want me to go faster, keep on going, puppy."

When you tease and play him like this, he just can't help himself; he wolfs for you again. And true to your words, you go faster. He moans into his arms, his knees start to buckle under your stimulations. He wonders if you'd go faster if he did it again, and so he wolfs again... and again... and again, his voice getting more and more erotic as time goes by and you're literally going as fast as you can. It's only been like a minute or so and he's already a mess in your hands. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that the door is still unlocked and decide to comment on it. With a teasing tone, you say into his ear, "Puppy~ Look up." 

It makes him whimper. Obediently, he lifts his head up and looks in the mirror. The sight of his face makes him embarrassed and if he's being honest, it also turns him on more; seeing him with his face full of pleasure, being a puppy for you as you play with him however you like. Your touch is starting to feel too much for him to handle.

"You didn't lock the door, pup. Do you want to get caught like this? Bent over the counter with your ass in the air? Like a puppy in heat? Rutting all over my hand like this, hm?"

Your words just make him whine and thrust more into your hand. Truthfully, he's too dizzy to think properly, all he knows right now is how good your hand feels around him and all he can do is whine, whimper and pant right now. You tighten your grip on his dick and he almost chokes at the sensation. 

"Tongue out, pup."

He's really not in a position to disobey you — it's like his body is on autopilot; whatever you tell him to do, he automatically does it. Looking at himself with his tongue out, he can't help but feel embarrassed that he's even doing this. But somehow, it feels so good to him. He’ll deny it if anyone asks but he actually likes being teased and treated this way. And based on the trembling of his legs, you can tell that he's close. 

"Wanna cum, pup?"

Another whine from him. Usually, you're the type to drag it on and ruin him first before you'd ever give him his release — but right now, you got a job to get to so you let him cum anyway despite it only being like a couple minutes. Honestly, you're surprised at how quick and easy you can get him to cum and submit to you. Guess you’re right about him being obedient. "Go ahead, baby boy."

And he finally reaches his climax after a couple of thrusts into your hand. He looks so pretty like this; all ruined and a mess, face red, eyes zoned out, mouth open wide as he lets out a moan so loud that you're the one covering his mouth this time. Some of his cum got on the counter while most drip to the floor. You have to hold him still for a short moment to make sure he doesn't fall. When he’s able to properly stand on his own again, you go to the toilet seat to grab some tissue paper.

By the time you turn back at him, he's already got his head buried in his arms again. You move to start cleaning him up but as your hand touches his dick again, he flinches and quickly spins himself around to face you. With his face beet red and eyes refusing to meet yours, he quickly takes the tissues from your hand and whispers, "I-it's okay, I can clean myself up. You- you can go now."

You look at him in confusion and say, "Are you sure?" 

He nods and reassures you, "Y-yeah." He then turns arounds, his back now facing you and he shyly starts cleaning himself, his skirt now covering his dick, hiding it and his perky ass from your view. 

It takes you a while to realise that he's just embarrassed. You lightly chuckle at his antics. Leaning close to his ear, which he surprisingly lets you do since he doesn’t move away when he feels you near him, you then whisper to him, "You're cute." 

"Shut it," he hisses at you. Mustering the leftover confidence he has, he turns to look at you in the eye and whispers to you sternly, "This is a one time thing only. Don't you even think about telling your friends about this — and I still don't like you." 

Rolling your eyes, you reassure him, "Yeah, yeah, I got it." 

"Good." He turns away from you and continues, "We'll pretend we don't even know each other." 

"Fine by me," you say to him. It's a bit of a bummer though; he's extremely sexy and he just gave you one of the best orgasms you ever had. His fingers somehow feel like they're meant to touch you and you vice versa. You're not sure if you'd be willing to let this be a one time thing. 

"I'll get going?" You ask him, wanting some reassurance that he'll be alright without you.

"Please," he says as he carefully squats down, trying to clean all remnants of your activities together. As you stare at him on his hands and knees, you can't help but think about how easy it would be to hike his skirt up again, how easy it would be to pin him to the ground and ruin him again and again and how easy he would submit himself to you. 

And that's when you've made up your mind. 

As you take a look at your appearance in the mirror, you make yourself look presentable again and then exit the washroom, leaving Jake alone with his thoughts. One thing’s for sure: this is not the last time you'll both do this and you're gonna make sure of that.

[zapreportsblog]

BEEN THROUGH THIS

➥ summary : miles cheat on you but don’t worry you ain’t trippin

➥ cheating! Miles Morales x Reader, Hobie Brown x Reader

➥ a/n: had been inspired by @thebestandrealestever fic “NOT YOU TOO”

The New York skyline glowed with the soft hues of dusk as (Y/N) sat perched on the couch in Miles Morales' apartment. The familiar comfort of his living room surrounded her, yet a sense of unease lingered in the air. Miles had been acting peculiar lately, and it was becoming impossible for her to ignore.

They had spent countless evenings like this, side by side, their laughter filling the space as they shared stories and dreams. But recently, Miles seemed distant—his smile not as bright, his attention elsewhere. It was as if a curtain had fallen between them, and (Y/N) was left to grapple with the uncertainty of the change.

"Hey," Miles called as he bounded up the stairs, a smile lighting up his face. "The food's here!"

(Y/N) managed a smile, hoping to mask the concern that gnawed at her heart. "Great, I'm starving."

As Miles disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve their takeout, (Y/N)'s gaze drifted to his phone resting on the coffee table. It was there that she had seen the signs—the late-night messages he quickly silenced, the missed calls, and the whispered conversations he tried to hide. She had tried to push away the doubts, to give him the benefit of the doubt, but the distance between them had become too great to ignore.

Just as she was about to shake off her thoughts, a message notification flashed across Miles' phone screen. The name Gwen appeared, and curiosity got the best of (Y/N). A knot formed in her stomach as she glanced over the messages—innocuous at first, but as she scrolled, her heart dropped.

"You free tonight?" Gwen's message read, followed by a string of messages that seemed to confirm what her intuition had feared.

Her heart raced, a storm of emotions swirling within her chest. She felt betrayed, hurt, and a profound sense of loss. The words on the screen were a painful reality—a reality that revealed Miles' infidelity.

Just as the weight of the truth settled over her, Miles returned, a bag of takeout in his hand. He smiled, the façade of normalcy masking the truth that lay beneath the surface. "(Y/N), I got your favorite—spicy chicken noodles."

She managed a weak smile, her heart aching as she accepted the food. "Thanks, Miles."

They ate in silence, the once-comfortable camaraderie now shattered by the truth that hung heavy between them. Every bite felt like a struggle, every moment a reminder of what had been lost.

As the evening grew darker, the urge to confront Miles gnawed at (Y/N), but she resisted. Instead, she played it cool, pretending as if nothing was amiss. As their meal came to an end, a ding sounded from Miles' phone once more.

"Sorry, I have to head home," (Y/N) said, her voice calm despite the tempest of emotions within her.

Miles looked up, his brow furrowed. "Already? You usually stay later."

"Yeah, just got something I need to take care of," she replied, standing and grabbing her jacket.

Miles nodded, his gaze lingering on her. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything."

She managed a half-hearted smile, her voice steady as she spoke. "I will."

Gathering her resolve, (Y/N) left Miles' apartment, the weight of his betrayal a burden she couldn't escape. As she stepped out into the cool night air, she couldn't help but feel the sting of tears threatening to spill. The pain of Miles' actions was a wound that cut deep, leaving her to navigate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within.

Once outside, she walked briskly, the distant sound of city life a distant backdrop to the turmoil in her mind. The truth had shattered the world she had built with Miles, and the path ahead was uncertain.

With each step, (Y/N) resolved to confront the reality of her situation—to find closure and, ultimately, to heal. The foundation of trust had crumbled, but within her, a glimmer of strength burned—a determination to rebuild her life, to rediscover her sense of self, and to move forward in a world forever changed by the unraveling threads of a love once cherished.

Upon getting home she made her way upstairs to her bedroom but now in the confines of her room, (Y/N)'s emotions had transformed from sorrow to a fierce anger that roiled within her chest. She felt the need to release the seething frustration that consumed her, and so, she found herself screaming into her pillow, her voice muffled but her anger echoing in the room.

With each scream, she pounded her fists onto the pillow, the strikes serving as a vent for the fury that raged within. The pain in her knuckles mirrored the pain in her heart, and the act of releasing it felt cathartic in its own twisted way.

As the echoes of her screams subsided, her breathing came in ragged gasps, her body drained from the intensity of her outburst. Collapsing onto the bed, (Y/N) stared at the ceiling, the weight of her emotions now tempered by a newfound determination.

Her phone lay on the bedside table, a lifeline that connected her to her friend who had been a constant support throughout her tumultuous journey. With trembling fingers, she dialed the familiar number, her heart pounding as she waited for the call to connect.

"Hey," her friend's voice greeted her, warm and comforting.

Tears welled in (Y/N)'s eyes, but they weren't tears of sadness anymore—they were tears of anger, determination, and a desperate need for clarity.

"Hey," (Y/N) replied, her voice cracking slightly. "Can we talk?"

"Of course," her friend responded, her tone gentle and understanding.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) recounted the events of the evening—the cold distance, the heart-wrenching discovery, and the overwhelming anger that now coursed through her veins. Her friend listened patiently, offering words of sympathy and comfort as (Y/N) poured out her heart.

"You don't deserve any of this," her friend said, her voice carrying a mix of empathy and outrage. "You're stronger than you realize."

(Y/N) nodded, even though her friend couldn't see. "I know. And you know what? I'm done being sad. I'm furious."

There was a pause before her friend responded, her voice holding a hint of mischief. "Well, fury can be a powerful motivator."

(Y/N) furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," her friend's voice held a hint of mischief, "why not channel that anger into something that empowers you? Get even in your own way."

A surge of energy coursed through (Y/N) at the suggestion. It was a dangerous idea, one that went against her moral compass, but the thought of taking control of her life was enticing.

"You mean..." (Y/N) hesitated, her mind racing as she considered the possibility.

"I mean," her friend continued, her voice taking on a sly edge, "if he can cheat, then so can you. Show him that you won't be the victim in all this."

(Y/N) felt a knot form in her stomach. The idea of revenge wasn't something she had ever considered, but her friend's words were a tempting whisper of possibility.

"I don't know if I can do that," (Y/N) admitted, her voice wavering.

Her friend's tone softened. "I'm not saying you have to. But consider this—your relationship is no longer the same after what he did. When he cheated everything and everyone was up for grabs if he didn't want it to be an open relationship, he shouldn't have cheated in the first place."

(Y/N) was silent for a moment, her mind in turmoil as she grappled with the moral implications of the idea. The pain of betrayal was still raw, but the suggestion her friend had given her was a fierce reminder that she deserved better.

As the call ended, (Y/N) lay on her bed, her heart heavy with the choices that lay ahead. The idea of getting even ignited a fire within her—a fire that burned with the desire to reclaim her power, to rewrite her narrative, and to prove that she could stand on her own terms.

With the room bathed in the soft glow of her bedside lamp, (Y/N) stared at her ceiling, a mixture of anger and determination churning within her. The journey ahead wouldn't be easy, and the choices she faced were complex, but within her heart, a spark had been ignited—the spark of a woman who refused to be a victim, who refused to be defined by someone else's actions.

She had been knocked down, but as she lay there, her resolve crystallized. It was time to rise, to reclaim her sense of self, and to show the world that she was far from powerless. With every beat of her heart, she embraced the truth—that the fire of her fury would guide her, fuel her, and ultimately lead her toward a future marked not by the pain of betrayal, but by the strength of her own spirit.

Lying in her bed, (Y/N) couldn't shake the tumultuous mix of emotions that churned within her. The conversation with her friend had left her with conflicting thoughts, but the seed of empowerment had been planted. As she contemplated her next steps, her phone buzzed on the nightstand beside her.

Glancing at the screen, she saw a message from Hobie—a friend who had always been honest and forthright, even if his opinions often rubbed her the wrong way. A hint of a smile tugged at her lips as she read his message: "Hey, you up?"

With a sigh, (Y/N) tapped out a reply: "Yeah, what's up?"

Hobie's response was swift: "Can I come over? Got something I wanna talk about."

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with the possibility of a distraction from her own thoughts. "Sure, come on over."

It wasn't long before a knock sounded on her door. (Y/N) got up and opened it, revealing Hobie standing there, a casual smile on his face.

"Hey," he greeted, stepping into the room.

"Hey," (Y/N) replied, offering him a faint smile.

As they settled into seats, Hobie's gaze lingered on her, his eyes sharp and assessing. "You okay?"

(Y/N) sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Honestly, no. But I'm trying to be."

Hobie nodded in understanding. "It's rough, what you're going through."

(Y/N) looked at him, surprised by the empathy in his voice. "You know?"

Hobie sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I've never been a fan of Miles, you know that. But I don't like seeing you hurt."

A mixture of emotions swirled within (Y/N) as she regarded Hobie. He had always been candid about his feelings for her, even when she was in a relationship with Miles. Their dynamic had always been complicated, filled with unspoken tension and unexpressed emotions.

"I appreciate that," (Y/N) said softly, her voice tinged with gratitude.

Hobie's gaze held hers, his expression earnest. "You deserve better, you know. Someone who values you and treats you right."

The weight of his words settled over (Y/N), a reminder that she wasn't alone in her pain. Hobie's friendship had weathered many storms, and despite their differences, his concern for her was genuine.

"I've been thinking," Hobie began, his tone measured, "about what you said earlier."

(Y/N) furrowed her brow, her curiosity piqued. "What did I say?"

Hobie's lips quirked into a wry smile. "About getting even."

A mixture of surprise and intrigue flooded (Y/N). "And?"

Hobie leaned forward, his gaze steady. "I've always told you how I feel, (Y/N). And I know you're going through a lot right now, but I can't help it. I care about you, more than I probably should."

(Y/N)'s heart raced as the unspoken tension between them crackled in the air. She had always known about Hobie's feelings, but to hear him lay them out so candidly was a revelation.

"Hobie..." she began, her voice a mixture of uncertainty and caution.

"I'm not saying this to take advantage of your situation," Hobie interjected, his voice firm. "But maybe it's time for both of us to move on from relationships that aren't making us happy."

(Y/N)'s mind raced as she considered his words. Hobie's feelings for her were no secret, and her own emotions were more complicated than ever. The possibility of exploring a new path, one that didn't involve the heartache she had experienced, was both tempting and frightening.

Hobie's gaze held hers, his expression vulnerable. "I know this is a lot to take in, and I'm not expecting an answer right now. Just... think about it."

As Hobie stood, preparing to leave, (Y/N) found herself torn between the past and the uncertain future that now lay before her. The pain of betrayal still lingered, but the possibility of finding solace in Hobie's friendship—and perhaps more—was a glimmer of hope that she hadn't expected to find.

Before Hobie left, (Y/N) found herself wrestling with the whirlwind of emotions that his confession had stirred within her. The idea of exploring a connection with him held both promise and uncertainty, and as she sat on her bed, she felt a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

“You know what, sure.” She called out to him.

As they settled into her room, the tension that had hung in the air earlier seemed to have dissipated. They decided on watching horror movies, a shared love for the genre that often led to laughter and playful teasing.

With the glow of the screen lighting their faces, (Y/N) found herself leaning back against the headboard of her bed, and Hobie settled comfortably between her legs, their bodies pressed close. The atmosphere was easy and familiar, a reminder of the camaraderie they had always shared.

As the movie played on, (Y/N) couldn't help but reach out and play with Hobie's hair, a gesture that had always been a source of comfort between them. His eyes fluttered closed, and a contented sigh escaped his lips.

Needing a distraction from the gruesome scene in the movie, she reached for her phone, fingers typing swiftly as she pulled up Gwen's Instagram profile. Her heart ached as she saw the picture—Gwen and Miles, hand in hand, their smiles radiant. The caption read, "Can't get enough of him #bestfriends." The pang of betrayal cut deep, a reminder that the wound was still fresh, and the reality of Miles' actions stung anew.

As she scrolled further, her mind raced with thoughts of retaliation, of showing the world that she was moving on, too.

After a while, she felt the urge to capture the moment—a candid snapshot that reflected the companionship they had found in one another. Grabbing her phone, she framed the shot carefully, capturing the scene of Hobie nestled between her legs as they watched the movie. The flickering light of the screen cast their profiles in gentle shadows.

With the photo captured, she added a caption that held a mixture of defiance and vulnerability: "Can't get enough of this #bestfriends." The words were a declaration of a bond that had always been present, and now, in the face of heartache and uncertainty, was blossoming into something new.

Hobie's eyes opened as she finished typing, his gaze meeting hers with curiosity. "What are you up to?"

(Y/N) held up her phone, showing him the picture and caption. "Just sharing a moment."

Hobie's lips quirked into a smile as he read the words, his expression a mixture of surprise and appreciation. "I'm honored love.”

As the movie continued to play, (Y/N) felt a sense of contentment settle over her. The pain of Miles' betrayal was still there, but in the presence of a friend who cared deeply for her, she found solace.

With every passing moment, (Y/N) was embracing the possibility of healing, of finding happiness in unexpected places, and of building a new narrative that was defined by her choices, her strength, and the companionship of someone who had always been there for her. As the movie's tension built on the screen, so did the quiet understanding between her and Hobie—a bond that was evolving, transforming, and guiding them both toward a future that held the potential for a different kind of happiness—one that was marked not by the pain of the past, but by the strength of their own choices and the connection that was slowly blooming between them.

[pristinekanesays]

🦋Life Is Strange: With A Sick S/O

🦋 just like the good ol' title, how the crew react when you become sick

🐺 GN!Reader, no specific pronouns are mentioned!

🦋 warnings: swearing, mentions of the reader having a cold & coughing/sneezing a lot, fluff, cute ass stuff, nathan not giving a rats ass tbh

🎧A/N: hey dudes, i'm back and i've been missin' you, feel free to request somethin'! might be a little short and the writing style has changed, feels gooooood to be back >:D.

🦋Chloe Price:

🤍| she'll joke around with you first like 'hey maybe you caught something from that snotty-nosed kid down the street' or laugh and plead that you don't sneeze on her or somethin'.

🤍| but seriously, she's fuckin' freaked especially if you've got a pretty bad cold or cough.

🤍| props to her though, she might be a bit overboard when you're sick but at least she cares.

🤍| she can't cook all that great but hey, if life ain't going so good for you then she'll somehow convince joyce to let you stay (much against davids wishes) and then you can have all the homemade chicken soup you want.

🤍| will still blast her music as loud as she wants unless you have a pretty nasty headache then she'll turn it down a little. (only a little)

🍂Kate Marsh:

🤍| an angel in disguise with the most beautiful white wings, she's there when you need her and will literally jump when you call.

🤍| will ask if your okay (like you literally aren't basically fighting for your life) then shake her head like a disappointed mother when she hears your hoarse voice.

🤍| if you're still trying to attend class or do stuff while you're sick, then she'll be the girl rushing after you and trying to get you back to your dorm.

🤍| i've said this before, kate can definitely cook but if you're not eating then she'll settle for buying fast food you like (because at least you're not dying of starvation).

🤍| checks up on you occasionally but not every second, she acts like if she even turns a lamp on that you'll die on the spot or combust into thin air.

📷 Max Caulfield:

🤍| kinda like warren, refers to you being sick as a 'total bummer' but she doesn't mean it in a way to bash you for being sick, only really to make you laugh or roll your eyes.

🤍| she texts you a few times a day when your sick, to check up on you or to occasionally..send you memes.

🤍| visits you sometimes after class, either to bring you food or just to see if you're still alive and breathin'.

🤍| when she finally gets some time to spend with you, she'll sit down beside you and show you photos that she's taken of you before you got sick. (including the one of you in a banana suit.)

🤍| if you're chilling in her dorm while she's in class, then she'll leave some music discs out for you in case you ever get sick of the silence.

🎭Rachel Amber:

🤍| she's busy cracking jokes half of the time and when you joke back she'll hit you with a 'i'm not the one coughing and sneezing everywhere, am i?'.

🤍| she won't be able to check up on you every second since she's busy with class, drama & the tempest but will still try to make time for you.

🤍| will send you updates about what she's doing though, for example 'at drama lab, still doing good?' or 'class sucks, hope ur okay.'

🤍| she can cook, yeah! but rachel seems like the type of person to eat it out of the tin instead of making it homemade (she's just like me)

🤍| she's kinda like victoria in a way that she loves you but she cannot risk being sick, especially with all the shit she's gotta do.

🎬 Victoria Chase:

🤍| she cares and is definitely worried when you suddenly become sick but tries to pretend that she doesn't, at least not that much.

🤍| she's busy with a lot of stuff so she can't always be there when you need her but she'll try to be.

🤍| so filthy rich that it's mind-blowing, she can buy you whatever, whenever you want it.

🤍| she'll text you after she's done everything she needs to do and her schedule is clear, will ask if you need anything picked up or if you're feeling any better since the last time she saw you.

🤍| okay, if you don't like nathan then i'm sorry!! she's gonna send him to give you stuff or check up on you, even if you guys literally despise each other.

🎮 Warren Graham:

🤍| he's super sweet, so no worries! he'll make sure to check up on you and give you advice whenever you need it.

🤍| doesn't care about getting sick, he's still down to hang whenever and will look at you with an awkward but reassuring smile when you're coughing your ass off.

🤍| he's the type to rub your back bro even if he knows he's gonna catch your nasty ass cold and be stuck in bed for days.

🤍| if you're okay with touch then he'll also hold your hand when he's beside you and tell you that this is gonna pass, so don't worry!!

🤍| he's chill so he might let you get up and do shit but will definitely be scared that you'll just collapse out of nowhere, even if you've only got a painless cold he's still gonna make sure you're okay.

🤍| he didn't get any affection from his father, ever. so it's gonna be hard for him to try and care for you when you're sick.

🤍| sometimes just ends up buying you stuff to make up for not being there when you need him, if you and victoria are on good terms then he'll probably just ask her if she can get you meds or anything else that can help you. (LAZYYY ASSS!!! D:<)

🤍| checks up on you when he can but will try to pretend that he hasn't been fearing for your life the whole time he's been busy, dude it's a cold.

🤍| rich just like vic! he can bring you whatever you want, just ask and he'll tiptoe through that door like a sims 2 burglar with the things you asked for in hand.

🤍| apart from that though, just ask victoria or something if you ever need company because his brain will explode and he'll look at you all dumbfounded 'n shit.

[thisisnotthenerd]

guess who's back! that's right, it's another edition of thisisnotthenerd's d20 stats. this time we're talking level progression.

a few disclaimers: this is only inclusive of initial and final levels. i may go through each season to find the exact points of change and the full progression at some point, but not right now. i don't have the time for that. this is already incredibly long with just initial and final levels. anyways:

level progressions

these are sorted into a couple of categories: major level progressions, minor level progressions, nonprogression seasons, and nonleveled seasons (which basically just means they are non dnd seasons).

to start we have:

major level progression seasons

this includes most of the intrepid heroes' seasons, plus a couple of sidequests that had or are in the process of having major level changes. major level changes means the party levels up two or more levels during the season. without further ado:

fantasy high freshman year: this season had a fairly standard progression; everyone starting from level one, milestone leveling with each battle until they hit level 8 for the finale.

fig faeth:

initial level: bard 1

final level: whispers bard 8

gorgug thistlespring:

initial level: barbarian 1

final level: berserker barbarian 1

adaine abernant:

initial level: wizard 1

final level: divination wizard 8

fabian seacaster:

initial level: fighter 1

final level: champion fighter 8

kristen applebees:

initial level: life cleric 1

final level: life cleric 8

riz gukgak:

initial level: rogue 1

final level: inquisitive rogue 8

the unsleeping city: this season follows a similar progression to fantasy high--the characters just start at level 3 instead of level 1. this let them start with subclasses and a more features that let them swing harder in battle earlier.

ricky matsui:

initial level: devotion paladin 3

final level: devotion paladin 10

sofia lee:

initial level: drunken master monk 3

final level: drunken master monk 8 | hexblade warlock 2

kingston brown:

initial level: city cleric 3

final level: city cleric 10

misty moore/rowan berry:

initial level: lore bard 3

final level: lore bard 10

kugrash:

initial level: shepherd druid 3

final level: shepherd druid 10

pete conlan:

initial level: wild magic sorcerer 3

final level: wild magic sorcerer 10

a crown of candy: this season was a little different because of the initial party composition--the adults started at level 3, while liam and the twins started at levels 2 and 1 respectively. the entry points of cumulous and saccharina obviously affected their starting levels, since they had to match the party at the point of entry. there was also more multiclassing and subclass switches for story reasons this season. just a bit more complexity as d20 itself got more complex.

liam wilhelmina: the most effective subclass switch i think ever. he became a war guy.

initial level: ranger 2 (took beastmaster after 1st battle)

final level: gloomstalker ranger 6 | assassin rogue 4

theobald gumbar:

initial level: eldritch knight 3

final level: eldritch knight 10

jet rocks: she started in rogue with martial adept to match ruby, multiclassed into fighter and dropped her rogue level before she died.

initial level: rogue 1

final level: battlemaster fighter 7

ruby rocks:

initial level: rogue 1

final level: arcane trickster rogue 9 | shadow sorcerer 1

amethar rocks:

initial level: storm herald barbarian 3

final level: storm herald barbarian 5 | battlemaster fighter 5

lapin cadbury:

initial level: celestial warlock 3

final level: celestial warlock 5

cumulous rocks: came in as a cloud, cried over magic, killed chickens for temp hp

initial level: long death monk 6

final level: long death monk 10

saccharina frostwhip: a powerful queen

initial level: storm sorcerer 6 | tempest cleric 2

final level: storm sorcerer 8 | tempest cleric 2

the unsleeping city chapter 2: only a couple of subclass switches this season, but more new characters that played in the multiclass space.

ricky matsui:

initial level: redemption paladin 12

final level: redemption paladin 10

sofia lee:

initial level: shadow monk 8 | hexblade warlock 2

final level: shadow monk 10 | hexblade warlock 2

kingston brown:

initial level: city cleric 10

final level: city cleric 12

iga lisowski: she comes in statted with the party, but it tracks because she's been the steward of a magic Polish dragon box for decades.

initial level: genie warlock 10

final level: genie warlock 10 | draconic sorcerer 2

rowan berry: she comes in late and so only really has the opportunity to start at level 12

initial level: lore bard 12

final level: lore bard 12

cody walsh: can you imagine your intro to magic being selling your soul to a lesser devil and instantly jumping to level 10. he's so bad at everything that it balances. the athletics checks? insane. absolute loser of a mall goth sword guy. a time capsule of the year 2003.

initial level: oathbreaker paladin 10

final level: oathbreaker paladin 12

pete conlan:

initial level: wild magic sorcerer 10

final level: wild magic sorcerer 12

a starstruck odyssey: this season isn't precisely DND and so works a little differently. the party started with level differences: all nonhumans started at level 3, the humans started at level 2, and gunnie was level 1. i think this was indicative of the fact that a) takamori leveled up by getting brain slugged, b) margaret leveled up by undergoing a quarter-life crisis, and c) gunnie probably joined the ship more recently. they also have ship deployments that they take levels in to be able to competently run a ship. deployments are indicated in [brackets] like so.

gunnie miggles-rashbax:

initial level: engineer 1 [mechanic 1]

final level: engineer 6 [mechanic 3]

riva:

initial level: suggestion consular 3 [coordinator 1]

final level: suggestion consular 6 [coordinator 3]

norman 'skip' takamori

initial level: operative 2 [pilot 1]

final level: lethality operative 6 [pilot 3]

margaret encino:

initial level: scholar 2 [operator 1]

final level: politician pursuit scholar 6 [operator 3]

sundry sidney:

initial level: corsair sentinel 3 [gunner 1]

final level: corsair sentinel 6 [gunner 3]

big barry syx:

initial level: ballistic berserker 3 [gunner 1]

final level: ballistic berserker 6 [gunner 3]

neverafter: this season marks the first level 1 party since fantasy high, and also follows a similar level progression pattern. however, they got episode 3'd, and so skipped levels 2 & 3. they woke up with subclasses. the baba yaga also helped them skip from level 6 to level 8 iirc.

rosamund du prix

initial level: ranger 1

final level: swarmkeeper ranger 5 | stars druid 2 | fighter 1

mother timothy goose:

initial level: bard 1

final level: lore bard 8

pinocchio:

initial level: archfey warlock 1

final level: destiny (homebrew) warlock 8

puss in boots (pib):

initial level: rogue 1

final level: mastermind rogue 8

gerard of greenleigh:

initial level: fighter 1

final level: battlemaster fighter 8

ylfa snorgelsson:

initial level: barbarian 1

final level: bear totem barbarian 6 | moon druid 2

the ravening war: here's where the distinction between 'leveled up two or more times' and leveled up two or more levels' has to be made. technically there's really only one major change during the season, but they go from level 4-5 to level 9, so it's counted as a significant jump.

delissandro katzon: this is the second time lou wilson has played a fighter barbarian in calorum. truly i would have two nickels. also the second time he's played a champion fighter that switched to battlemaster and multiclassed. really starting to collect nickels here.

initial level: champion fighter 5

final level: battlemaster fighter 8 | barbarian 1

raphaniel charlock: i don't feel like tracking his titles. also he has so many feats. dear god.

initial level: eloquence bard 4 | rogue 1

final level: eloquence bard 6 | rogue 3

karna solara: the third triple multiclass in d20 history. the only characters that i can think of that are of equivalent assassin vibes are liam, gangie, and skip.

initial level: whispers bard 3 | great old one warlock 2

final level: phantom rogue 4 | whispers bard 3 | great old one warlock 2

colin provolone: oh what a guy. a traditional mercenary if you ever saw one

initial level: battlemaster fighter 3 | rogue 2

final level: battlemaster fighter 6 | swashbuckler rogue 3

lady amangeaux epiceé du peche: she starts lower level than the rest of the party because she's more naive and less prepared for the intrigue and assassination plots. she's the only to not multiclass in this season. the only one.

initial level: arcane trickster rogue 4

final level: arcane trickster rogue 9

burrow's end: i know that it's the ongoing season, but evidenced by the fact that they double leveled up in episode 2, i have a feeling this is going to be a major leveling season. i'm anticipating level 10 as a stopping point, but who knows where they go from here.

tula: stoat mom as a feat is all i'm going to say

initial level: redemption paladin 4

final level: ?

jaysohn: adhd karate boy, or all stoats in a nutshell

initial level: astral self monk 4

final level: ?

viola: the embryonic diapause storyline is going to kill me, i can feel it.

initial level: devotion paladin 4

final level: ?

thorn vale: anxious wife guy cult leader is something i didn't know i needed until now, but i'm so glad that that's where jasper went with him.

initial level: fey wanderer ranger 4

final level: ?

ava: if generational trauma was a stoat. the commitment to the werther's? phenomenal.

initial level: ancestral guardians barbarian 3 | fighter

final level: ?

lila: i'm living for izzy as a stoat that can sneak attack people and read???

initial level: inquisitive rogue 4

final level: ?

and that's all of the major progression seasons. with that concluded, we move into:

minor level progression seasons

as stated earlier, these seasons really only have one major level change as opposed to the progressive milestones of the major leveling seasons. i think that comes down to a couple of things: 1) they all start as midlevel characters who are reasonably powerful 2) two of these are 10 episode seasons that had less time to do progressive leveling than most of the intrepid heroes' seasons, and 3) the timeline of the level ups really only makes sense for one level change, especially since they start out of the low levels that shift easily. fhfy is like a week and a half in universe, t7 and acofaf are each like a week. anyways, here it is:

fantasy high sophomore year: mostly carried over from fhfy to start, with one major level but we really got into multiclassing and subclass switches for story here, i think in part because running live sessions is inherently a little more spontaneous than a pre-recorded season.

fig faeth:

initial level: whispers bard 6 | hexblade warlock 2

final level: lore bard 6 | hexblade warlock 3

gorgug thistlespring:

initial level: berserker barbarian 8

final level: berserker barbarian 8 | artificer 1

adaine abernant:

initial level: divination wizard 8

final level: divination wizard 9

fabian seacaster:

initial level: champion fighter 8

final level: battlemaster fighter 6 | swords bard 3

kristen applebees:

initial level: life cleric 8

final level: twilight cleric 9

riz gukgak:

initial level: inquisitive rogue 8

final level: inquisitive rogue 9

the seven: the ladies are here! they start at the level 9 baseline set by the end of fhsy and hit level 10 in like a week. granted the second half of the season is almost all encounters--three double episode battles total, with two in the back half.

antiope jones: the reluctant leader, not that kind of ranger. a choice aabria character. sometimes i think about the fact that both of aabria's spyre characters could conceivably meet, and it's not even that contrived. myrtle is sam's cousin.

initial level: arcane archer fighter 6 | monster slayer ranger 3

final level: arcane archer fighter 6 | monster slayer ranger 4

katja cleaver: half horse girl, half childhood neglect and abandonment, half rekha shankar's brand of ttrpg decisions.

initial level: battlemaster fighter 9

final level: battlemaster fighter 9 | barbarian 1

penny luckstone: eldest daughter syndrome to the max. deeply funny. an incredible rogue, even if she feeds old men horse meat candy hearts.

initial level: arcane trickster rogue 9

final level: arcane trickster rogue 10

danielle barkstock: actually erika ishii's second shepherd druid. they really like summoning geese, spiders, pixies, and various creatures that can absolutely ruin brennan's day. with a side of no self-care.

initial level: shepherd druid 9

final level: shepherd druid 10

ostentatia wallace: she lives up to the name. the forge cleric i want to be when i grow up.

initial level: forge cleric 9

final level: forge cleric 10

sam nightingale: a masterwork in character building, from a mechanical and story standpoint. i love the use of eldritch adept to maintain the build and keep with the story during their level up.

initial level: storm sorcerer 6 | glamour bard 3

final level: storm sorcerer 6 | glamour bard 4

zelda donovan: my girl! the other fighter barb of the group, but built in the opposite direction. also 55 movement speed? by god she can hustle.

initial level: eagle totem barbarian 8 | fighter 1

final level: eagle totem barbarian 8 | fighter 2

a court of fey and flowers: this season starts in a similar place to the seven with midlevel characters and levels up mostly for story reasons. it's a little more important to track reputation by episode, but i don't have the time for that at the moment.

andhera: hot, but built mid according to omar. an ace he/they king. never actually levels up, probably because they avoid conflict by beign a slippery pillar boy in wet cotton pants.

initial level: devotion paladin 8

final level: devotion paladin 8

k.p. hob: triple multiclass, builds on brennan's theme of self-sacrificial characters who don't think love can find them.

initial level: battlemaster fighter 6 | rogue 1 | barbarian 1

final level: battlemaster fighter 6 | rogue 2 | barbarian 1

lady chirp featherfowl: an assassin wizard with bird puns, a wife and daughter, and no regard for her reputation.

initial level: bladesinger wizard 8

final level: bladesinger wizard 9

lord squak airavis: the sluttiest bird you'll ever meet. the author of the green hunter. they got renner.

initial level: lore bard 8

final level: lore bard 9

delloso de la rue: made me cry when i watched them come out. the outfits. the pizzazz. the 'i love him'. the miscommunications. an icon. doesn't use subclass features, so we'll never know.

initial level: bard 8

final level: bard 9

binx choppley: another fantastic reveal. a single mom who works two jobs, but she's a warlock patron and trying to revive her dead court while masquerading as her friend while said friend dates her warlock on the material plane. truly who is doing it like them.

initial level: arcane trickster rogue 8

final level: arcane trickster rogue 9

now that we're through with the minor progression seasons, let's look at the single-level seasons.

nonprogression seasons

there's variance in these--there's not really a consistent start level. they go low level when they need to and high level when they need to. the lack of progression here also indicates timeline and season length: most of these are 4-6 episodes, and all of these seasons happen over the span of about a day or two in-game.

escape from the bloodkeep: d20's highest level season to date. unbelievable shenanigans, deeply funny. it's also fun for me to note that d20 and cr both have their morally dubious seasons that start and end at level 14 (eftbk and exu calamity) but they end up in literal opposite ends of the comedy/tragedy scale.

maggie (magfelda):

level: berserker barbarian 14

leiland (kraz-thun):

level: hexblade warlock 14

efink murderdeath:

level: grave cleric 14

sokhbarr:

level: beastmaster ranger 14

lilith:

level: shepherd druid 14

markus st. vincent

level: swashbuckler rogue 14

tiny heist:

rick diggins: the most charisma rogue i think you can get. negative dex and strength? grifter

level: mastermind rogue 4

boomer coleoptera: his subclass is unknown--it's never really mentioned during the season. it's theorized that he may be a battlemaster. the muscle

level: fighter 4

agnes: she also doesn't use any subclass specific features during the season. the other grifter

level: bard 4

ti-83: what a little fount of violence. the techie/explosive specialist

level: artillerist artificer 4

bean: the grease with a bone to pick

level: shadow monk 4

car-go jones: the mastermind, even though he's not a mastermind rogue. the danny ocean.

level: inquisitive rogue 4

pirates of leviathan: this entire season happens pretty much in the course of 24 hours. a good chunk of that time is just spent having a spa night at the gold gardens. who is doing it like them. everyone in this party can do magic.

sunny biscotto:

level: devotion paladin 5

bob (barbarella sarsaparilla gainglynn):

level: lore bard 3 | city cleric 2

cheese:

level: necromancy wizard 5

myrtle (the bitch):

level: tempest cleric 5

jack brakkow:

level: ancestral guardians barbarian 5

marcid the typhoon:

level: gloomstalker ranger 5

mice & murder: the oops all rogues season. for a low level season there are some astronomical dcs here. it really does a lot to show off the range of subclasses. all of them have dramatically different abilities, when they're not competing.

gangie green:

level: thief rogue 3

buckster $ boyd:

level: mastermind rogue 3

daisy d'umpstaire:

level: assassin rogue 3

vicar ian prescott:

level: eloquence bard 3

lars vandenchomp:

level: battlemaster fighter 3

sylvester cross:

level: inquisitive rogue 3

coffin run: this season is actually another one with mixed leveling--maybe to indicate time spent with dracula, maybe to level out powers on from a spellcasting level

aleksandr astrovsky:

level: alchemist artificer 7

squing:

level: undead warlock 8

wetzel:

level: mastermind rogue 7

may wong:

level: shadow sorcerer 6

dungeons and drag queens: i'm fairly sure they filmed this season in one shot. a great intro to dnd and the mechanics of level 5 characters.

troyánn:

level: arcane archer fighter 5

princess foehammer:

level: berserker barbarian 5

gertrude:

level: shadow sorcerer 5

twyla:

level: gloomstalker ranger 5

fantasy high oneshots: this is just the one-off characters from the fh oneshots. both of these characters show up in between freshman and sophomore year and so land at level 8.

hargis:

level: brute fighter 8

ficus:

level: dreams druid 8

and last but not least, we have the non-DnD seasons that have no level progressions:

misfits and magic

shriek week

mentopolis

and that's all folks! this one got so long. as always the spreadsheet is open to perusal. i hope you like it!

[t3mpest98]

I may be anxious but at least there’s Burnt Toast

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

New Rules

Part 1 of You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader, Past! Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Description: You feel adrift and lost when your relationship with Bradley Bradshaw crashes and burns around your ears. As quickly as your relationship ended, you're not expecting to find something new as fast as you have. And especially not with Jake Seresin.

Disclaimer: Female!Reader

Warnings: Cheating, Cursing, Sex, Sexual Themes

The content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting taglist requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story. I do my best to portray adult relationships in this fic. Please do not interact with this story if you feel you are not ready to read about these themes.

Word Count: 5191 

A/N: Without further ado, here is the first installment of the You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes Universe. I hope you all like it! This is going to be a relatively short three-part story which I've been calling the Before, During and After verse.

AO3: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist | Next Part

Rain collects in pools on the metal deck in front of you, droplets skittering into the night. It's quiet, only you, the clouds of your breath, and the drumming of fat droplets as they spatter on the metal deck. The deck roils under you, rising and falling without rhyme or reason in the undulating waves. It’s storming where you are in the Pacific Ocean, not that you can place precisely what longitude and latitude the colossal naval carrier you’re perched on is at.

But you’re miles away from everything that hurt you and even further from everything you love. You’re officially alone. You might as well be a paper boat in a tempest, at the mercy of the sea. But, as lonely as you are, those feelings are the last on your mind. Your mind is hundreds of miles away, wrapped in the sun, the sand, and a calmer, sunnier sea, trapped in a dream that turned into a nightmare. You get jolted back into yourself when an arm nudges you, and a body sinks down next to you on the cold decking.

"Heya, Bitsie." He's amused. He's always so amused, southern drawl stretching every word, including the pet name he persists on calling you by. "Whatcha doin' out here? I don't know if you noticed, but it's cold and rainin'."

"I noticed." Your voice is dull. Two weeks since you've been on dry land. You feel like a stranger trapped in a body you don't know, with a face you barely recognize in the mirror. The first morning on the carrier, you'd nearly screamed at the sight, seeing your eyes in a face you couldn't, wouldn't recognize. It shows in your actions, too, you know. It feels like your authentic self has retreated like someone is playing at controlling your body like a video game character.

"Oh! I know what it is. You miss your Chicken, dontcha? I bet you wish you were huddled up under his wing right now. Well, if that's all, you should head inside and call ole' Roostie. I'm sure he'd jump for joy at hearing your voice and seeing your face."

Hearing someone say your boyfriend's callsign, even a teasing nickname for it, shouldn't fill you with dread, seeping as cold as ice through your veins. If only he was still your boyfriend.

"He's not my anything, Bagman." Your voice is barely audible over the thunder of rain across the deck. You're not even sure he can hear you over the din.

"What happened?" His voice is more subdued than you've ever heard it. 

A flash of lightning rips through the sky, glinting off two pairs of shiny boots as they're stretched side by side next to each other. But you're spiraling, pulled into the undertow of everything that happened. The joy and pain of your latest failed relationship crash over you in unyielding waves as if you're adrift in the middle of the storm.

The dead-eye laser Lieutenant Miguel 'Fanboy' Garcia had encountered had nearly jeopardized the entirety of the Uranium mission. The Uranium mission would have failed without a stroke of near-divine luck. Everyone, from Admirals to the Secretary of the Navy, had decided unilaterally that something like that could not happen again. So you and your team, composed of mechanical engineers and computer scientists alike, had been shipped to Naval Air Station North Island to work with the squadron who’d run the Uranium Mission and improve the lasers, their targeting systems, and their software. 

That was when you’d met Bradley Bradshaw, callsign Rooster for the first time. It was like you were in a fairy tale. A perfect ray of light had shone over his head, illuminating strands of his hair golden. You felt a breeze brush over your hot cheeks and heard bird songs. The two of you had just clicked. It was easy, talking to him, hanging out, flirting. You nearly hadn't believed it when he’d asked you out for the first time. Bradley Bradshaw? Wanting to go out on a date with you? Obviously, you had said yes.

It had been a whirlwind romance. Bradley was precisely what you had thought you wanted in a man. He was sweet and charming. He never ignored what you were saying and was your partner in every sense of the word. The sex? That was dynamite, too. You’d be the first to openly admit you weren’t sexually experienced. But Bradley had never once made you feel less in your relationship. He’d swept you off your feet, starting with your first date and then every day since. You’d gushed to your family on the East Coast about how much you loved him and thought he was the one.

Sure, maybe two months into a new relationship, your only adult one was too soon to be making those overtures, but you fell and fell hard. It sometimes felt like you had been skydiving; he was the only parachute in sight. You'd consoled yourself that at least he'd fallen for you, too. And at least with Bradley, you'd never have to explain why you were leaving on a mission or a deployment. He'd understand it, just as you would when it was his turn.

While your relationship with Bradley changed and evolved and deepened, you'd also come to enjoy working with the other pilots and WSOs on the squadron. Bob, Fanboy, Halo, and Harvard were all brilliant and helpful in pinpointing exactly where the lasers seemed to fail. Their pilots were great, too. Other than Rooster, you weren't quite as close with the other single-seater F-18 pilots.

Hangman, in particular, had been intent on rubbing you the wrong way. His laugh, his demeanor, everything about him had set you off. From the very first day, he'd been calling you Itsie Bitsie or Bits or something like it. And he'd never told you why either, no matter how much you pestered him. You'd given up after a while. He didn't mean it maliciously, and it pissed him off more if you ignored him.

It helped, too, that Rooster had pulled you aside one afternoon when Hangman was being particularly dickish, kissed you until your knees were weak, and whispered in your ear, "Don't worry about him, lovely. He's just trying to get your attention or get you in trouble. I've got your back. Whatever you need to do to get him to stop, I'll help. But, if you're a good girl and can withstand him when we get home tonight, I'll let you sit on my face until you scream and then fuck you until you're all filled up with my cum." That was the end of that conversation, and as your panties flooded, you'd quickly forgotten about Hangman.

As your team and the Daggers blended and became cohesive, all those personality clashes also eased. Hangman was great to work with when he wasn't acting like a dick, and you always laughed when talking to him. And well, you're only human. You liked the look in Bradley's eyes when Hangman made you laugh. He made you feel wanted when he looked at you like that. You could've sworn that he knew you would only ever go home with him.

The sex was incredibly intense when you'd been polite with Hangman, just enough to send Bradley's jealousy skyrocketing. One incident involving a screwdriver and you in mechanics overalls resulted in fogged windows on a scenic overpass just off base. That afternoon had been especially memorable since base police had rapped on the back window of the Bronco and gotten an eyeful. You had escaped with just a warning, thankfully.

Things changed going into the sixth month of your relationship, your eighth overall in Miramar. Bradley would act the same at work but habitually ignored you when you were at the Hard Deck. He was usually clingy and sweet, always keeping an arm around your waist or kissing your skin. The sudden distance, physical and emotional, had been jarring. By then, your team and his squadron were close friends, decompressing at the bar over copious amounts of alcohol, laughter, and inside jokes. Then there were the nights you’d made plans, and he’d stood you up, calling hours later with plausible excuses. In hindsight, you never should’ve given him the benefit of the doubt. 

In your defense, things had been crazy with the announcement from Admirals Simpson, Mitchell, and Bates of a six-month mission testing out the new software for one pilot, one weapons system officer, and two members of your team, one with mechanical engineering expertise and the other software. The competition had ticked up, and tensions were high, at least for the aviators. The Pentagon selected who would go on the mission from your team and gave the names to the admirals. The Admirals kept the names close to the vest until they selected their pilot candidates. You'd chalked Bradley's exhaustion, frustration, and general downturn in mood to the pressures of being selected as the pilot for the mission. 

If only you'd known the actual reason. 

The Admirals announced the team on Friday afternoon, dismissing everyone afterward. You'd been selected as the software engineer, and one of your closest friends, Mara, was the mechanical engineer selected. Your team had cheered you both excitedly before the admirals called everyone back to order and announced the pilot going on the mission. You'd smiled reassuringly at Bradley, keeping your fingers crossed against your side in a silent plea for him to be selected.

"The pilot on this mission is Hangman. The WSO, Fanboy." 

The words had rung out with a sickening finality. Your head had swiveled so fast to look at Bradley that you'd nearly given yourself whiplash. But no matter how you'd craned your neck, you couldn't find him. You’d battled through the celebrations and raced out to the parking lot, only to see exhaust plumes pouring from the Bronco as he drove away. You texted him, offering to come by his house off-base for combination victory sex for you and conciliatory sex for him and to talk about how your relationship would last while you were in the middle of the ocean for half a year. But he left you on read, and you'd assumed he wanted to lick his wounds in solitude. So you'd left it alone that night. 

You'd messaged him on Saturday, wanting to make the most of any time you had left before you were trapped on an aircraft carrier with only Hangman, Fanboy, and Mara for company. He hadn't responded to those messages either. That had been when you'd started worrying. You'd talked yourself off the ledge of calling the police half a dozen times, imagining scenarios where he'd gotten injured or was drunk and then been injured. Or… or… or. You were half afraid he would think you were overly clingy if you'd called him. You'd slept uneasily that night, worrying about your boyfriend's health. Incommunicado wasn't his thing.

When you woke up the following day, you decided to go to his house. You had second-guessed your decision until 11 o'clock, not wanting to wake him after he'd been so tense for so many weeks. Bradley never slept well when he was stressed about something.

Everything looked alright as you pulled into the driveway behind the blue Bronco that was his pride and joy. He'd given you a spare key a couple of months into your relationship with an open invitation to join him in the house he'd inherited after his mom had passed away. He’d told you with a sheepish, sad, soft smile that it was too big a house for one person. It was an offer you'd taken advantage of before in your relationship, albeit after calling first. As you unlocked the door and stepped in, you'd rationalized that Bradley would be safe and sound if nastily hungover in his bed at the very moment.

The foyer was the same as it always had been, except for the stupidly sparkly and tall high heels sprawled across the floor. Bradley had always been a friendly guy. One of his friends probably crashed at his place. You'd felt for the poor girl looking at the shoes she'd been wearing the night before.

But if he had company, the house would be full of the smells of breakfast and coffee, with his favorite eighties playlist blaring from the kitchen. The house was absolutely silent as you trod up the stairs. You didn’t want to disturb him. You resolved to leave a note if he were sleeping. That resolve had fallen flat when you'd heard the breathy moans that spilled through the open bedroom door. 

Your heart had cracked a little, then the denial set in. Maybe he'd been watching porn? It had been a weak excuse, even in your own head. You had crept forward breathlessly, and that's when your heart shattered into a thousand tiny shards. Shards that had cut into the softness of you. Shards that were still lodged in your chest. He was home, but you doubted the girl bouncing on his cock was a friend. She was gorgeous, with her head thrown back and perky tits jolting with each movement. She was thin and blonde, waspish, her hair long and dangling down her back as he grasped at the silken strands. 

"Yeah, baby, come on, just like that." His voice was a hissed whisper, sweat dripping down his face as he mouthed at her skin, at her flushed pink nipples.

"Oh! BRADLEY!" She'd simpered and screamed, "Bet I give it better to you than your girlfriend ever can. Come on, baby! Oh! Oh! Oh! You give it to me so good. You’re so big!"

"God, yes! She's such a goody two shoes, Britney!" 

The sound of flesh smacking wetly echoed through the room.

“She’d never even been fucked. Did you know that?” His curls were sweat-matted and falling into his eyes. It had been her hand that brushed them away. She’d laughed then, as something sick had pooled in your stomach.

“I had to teach her everything. I can’t believe I took a bet so far!”

Bradley had growled about how much he hated you, that a couple hundred bucks weren't worth six months playing pretend, and you couldn't stand there to hear anymore. If you were a bolder woman, you'd have burst in there and broken up with him on the spot. But instead, you'd driven away as fast as you could.

You'd broken up with Bradley Bradshaw in the parking lot of an In-n-Out hours later over a text message, passed along your affections to Britney, and called her a whore and him an asshole. In a genuinely vindictive turn, you’d told Bradley that Carole would’ve hated the man he grew up to be and then blocked his number.

"Bitsie! Hey, Bits!" Bagman sounds worried. "Are you back with me?"

You loll your head exhaustively to look into Hangman's sage-green eyes. He looks just as worried as he sounds.

"You're crying."

You lift your hand, touch your cheeks, and stare without comprehending at your tear-stained fingertips.

"What happened, Bitsie? You're usually as sunny as can be!"

"Sometimes," You choke out, "the sun gets hidden by a storm, and paper boats get ripped to shreds by the pounding waves."

He tugs you against his chest until your head is pressed over his heart. His hands rub your back, and that's when you let your pain and frustration out. You know it's probably not right, crying in his arms, but you can't help it. He's one of the only friends, or as close as you have to friends, on this miniature floating Naval city, and he somehow feels like home. What feels like hours later, you finally sit back, letting your hand thwap solidly against the metal you’d been resting against. But you don’t hear the sound or feel the harsh sting. A hand gently cradles your head instead.

“I’m okay, Seresin.” Your voice is all stuffy, your head fogged with the pressure in your sinuses after a good cry. It doesn’t feel right to call him by his callsign or the bastardization of it, not when you’ve just sobbed unflinchingly in his arms. 

“If this is okay, darlin’, I don’t want to know what fantastic looks like.” He’s speaking so gently with you right now, proffering one of those typical mom pocket packs of tissues at you. Your smile is tremulous when you accept the tissue, turning your head away from him to honk into the feeble gauzy square like an elephant with rhinitis. You’re sure you look a sight when you turn back, eyes swollen and puffy, with the tip of your nose irritated like always when you’ve been crying and had to blow your nose. He’s still looking at you exactly how he was earlier, though, like a baby bird with a broken wing. Like you're some tiny precious thing that's injured and needs protection.

“You’ve cried now and done your best impression of a circus elephant.” You can’t help your watery giggle when he tweaks the tip of your nose.

“Do you want to tell me what’s happening with you and Bradshaw now?” 

“I don’t know if I can.” Your voice is whisper-thin, and your vocal cords feel like you've gargled glass. "It hurts too much."

"I know, darlin'. I can see it in your face. Wouldn't it be nice to tell someone if it hurts badly? To share that burden?" He's trying to wheedle the information out of you. And you can feel your resolve wavering. But, in the months after the Uranium Mission, Jake and Bradley had become something akin to friends. They had set aside all of the rivalries they'd had before, and while they ragged on each other, it was friendly. Could you destroy that relationship so quickly?

"Jake. You and Bradley just got to a good place. I don't want to change your relationship with him."

"Darlin’, tell me. Remember, we're on a carrier far away from him for the next six months, give or take a couple of weeks." He's smiling softly at you. "I promise I won't punch him in the face when I see him next for whatever he did."

"How can you assume it was something he did?" You ask, tired of seeing all of your faults in technicolor. You don’t argue with him, though, childishly curling your fingers into your palm, leaving only your pinky out. "Pinky-swear on it."

He blinks his eyes at you a few times before twining your pinky with his own. After pumping it twice, like kids on a playground, he just holds your hand captive. 

"There's your pinky promise, darlin’. You asked me why I could assume it was something he did?" He inhales deeply, chewing on his words before he continues. "I know because I've seen how you are when you're in love with someone. They're your whole focus when you're with them. While you were on Chicken's arm, he was all you focused on. I won’t say he consumed you because you paid attention to all of us. But there was something special about how you acted with him. When we were at the Hard Deck for drinks after work, it was like he was your True North. You always knew exactly where he was. You gave all of yourself to that relationship. He's the guy who leered happily at any piece of ass that walked by."

What does it say about you that someone with a reputation for being self-absorbed saw what you couldn't? You chuckle dryly before letting the whole tale spill, every salacious detail, including what Britney and Bradley had been saying about you in the bedroom. Your words finally run out as you stare at the clouds, tracing the lightning bolts as they zip through the ether. When you turn to look at him sometime after the last words have left your lips, he's glaring at the roiling sea off the deck. His jaw is clenched as the lightning makes his eyes shine golden. 

"He dated you because of a bet? And then he cheated?" He sounds angry, angry, and shocked. "He's supposed to be the most decent guy in the squadron. I promise you, I didn't know about the bet. If he made it, it wasn't with me."

"Did he ever bring her around to you guys?" Did you know? You're not sure if you want to know. But you have to. How many of your friends, your colleagues, had seen Bradley Bradshaw make a mockery of you? Condoned his cheating and lying? Had they covered for him? Had Jake? Who made money on you and him?

"Darlin, I would've told you the minute I had known if he had brought her around. We all would have." His eyes seem so sincere and soft as he looks at you. You can see pity on his face. You know it is. But it feels so good. To have a shoulder to cry on, to have someone tell you you're valid for feeling the way you do. 

"Her name seems familiar, though. I think she's one of the badge bunnies that always goes crazy when he plays the piano."

You have to laugh at that. The resulting sound is something insane choked out between sobs. Six months of a relationship and your complete devotion, love, care, and affection, not to mention your virginity, and he picked a badge bunny over you? 

"I'm sorry, darlin'. He's a fool. C'mon." He's standing before you now, blocking the brunt of the pouring rain from drenching you. "It's wet," he wheedles, wiggling his fingers until you place your hand in his, "let's get you inside. A hot shower, something to eat and drink, and a good night's sleep. That's what you need right now. I'll help you think of what to do about Bradshaw tomorrow, ok?"

You let him drag you up and usher you through the deserted carrier hallways, stopping to shield you from prying eyes with his broad back at every intersection. You can only assume what the rumor mill onboard will say if anyone sees the two of you like this. His uniform is colored caramel, rain soaking every inch, and his boots squelch unpleasantly as he walks you to your quarters. He waits, eagle-eyed, at the door to your quarters until you let yourself in.

"Go shower, sweetheart. I'll do the same and bring you some food from the commissary."

"I thought it would have closed by now?" You ask, your voice pitched low since you know from experience that everything echoes in the belly of the ship.

"The Officer's Lounge never is. I have granola bars in my quarters. I'll bring you a few and a cup of coffee. Cream, no sugar, yeah?"

He smiles at you before turning on his heel and striding away. You go about your shower by rote but spend much longer than usual under the hot water. It's all quiet when you step out and dress in the warmest sweats and sweatshirt you've packed in your luggage.

When you open it, you're not expecting anything in front of your door, but there they are. A single hot paper cup of coffee, prepared just as you like it, and two granola bars, the good kind, with chocolate! You eat and drink quickly, feeling hungry and thirsty after your cathartic release. Sleep tugs at you, and the last thing on your mind is that while Jake Seresin may not look like it, he is a sweetheart on the inside.

You wake up the following morning feeling like the night before is a glorified dream. Did you really cry all over Jake Seresin the night before? On deck in the middle of a typhoon, no less? You feel good, really good. Bradley’s betrayal still hurts, but not as much as the night before. You’ve learned so much about yourself; as much as you miss him, you can admit that he is not forever material.

You’re finally starting to see the sun through the clouds mentally, and from what you can see out the portholes, it’s a beautiful day outside. You dress quickly in your uniform and meet Mara for breakfast in the commissary. Your morning is spent far away from the pilots, making final adjustments to the laser targeting system. It's lunchtime before you see Jake again. He's got a ridiculously cocky smile on his face and a pep in his step. 

"Hey, ladies." He's oozing charm as he sits beside you, setting his tray next to yours. This afternoon's flight tests are going to be interesting. He looks like he’s in the mood to fly more recklessly than usual.

"How has your morning been?" 

“Great! Mara and I finally have the laser targeting system ready for the first flight tests this afternoon.” 

You can see the excitement in his eyes at the thought of flying and flying fast too. Mickey, who'd been following along behind his pilot for the mission, takes the seat next to Mara, and for a few minutes, it is just light-hearted chatter amongst the four of you as you talk about the test flight route and air conditions for the first test of the new systems. It's Jake, of course, who shatters the veneer of professionalism by slipping you a piece of paper. Scrawled on it in surprisingly neat cursive are four numbered points.

Don't pick up the phone. You know he's only calling when he's drunk and alone.

Don't let him in. You'll have to kick him out again.

Don't be his friend. You're only going to wake up in his bed in the morning.

If you're under him, you ain't getting over him.

You can't believe your own eyes. Do you laugh? Or do you cry? Jake Seresin just handed you a piece of paper quoting Dua Lipa's New Rules. Laughter ultimately wins out.

"Oh, my god." You've got your hand over your mouth, choking back laughter. Mickey grabs the paper from you, and it's only a few minutes before all three of you are laughing as Jake's cheeks redden with a blush. You take the note back and get yourself under control, using a napkin to blot the tears from under your eyes.

"What's this, Seresin?" You smile at him gently, knowing he meant well, and wasn't trying to make fun of you. He sheepishly runs his fingers through his hair.

"I called my sister and asked what she would do if she was in your shoes. She cursed me out for waking her up at 4 in the morning, laughed her ass off until her husband kicked her out of their bed, and then gave me that list. She said you'd probably know the song, but it was good advice." 

You goggle at him, surprised at the vehement emotion in his voice. You don't notice you've been staring into his eyes until Mickey clears his throat from across the table. Mara and Mickey are smirking at you, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks at the knowing looks they’re giving you.

"Why're you giving her the rules from New Rules, Hangman?" You can hear the confusion in Mickey’s voice.

Jake glances at you, looking for your permission. Instead of letting him tell them what happened, you speak.

"Payback will probably email you about it sooner than later, so here it is. I broke up with Bradley the day we shipped out." You take a deep breath before you spill the rest of the story, albeit without the graphic details you'd told Jake in the middle of the night. Mickey looks disgusted, as does Mara.

Mickey broaches the topic first. "You haven't been yourself since we came on board. Hangman noticed and pulled the whole story out of you, didn't he?" You nod carefully, taken aback at the anger growing on both their faces. 

"I didn't know." Mickey's vehement in his denial. 

"I know, Micks. Jake told me that any of the Daggers would've told me if Britney had been sniffing around and they knew he was cheating."

"Yeah, we would have." He inhales forcefully. "Wait. Britney?!"

You nod, sure you'll never forget the sound of that girl's name pouring out of your boyfriend's mouth as he pleasured her like he was only supposed to pleasure you.

"Shit. I did meet her. He told me she was his cousin from San Francisco. She was supposedly in San Diego for a couple of weeks on vacation. Phoenix backed him up about the lie. She told me she'd met Britney when she and Rooster were in Pensacola for flight training together."

You're aching to sock Bradley in the jaw now. Jake is, too. You can see it in how he’s clenching his hands tight, knuckles growing pale with force. You’ve come to terms with Bradley's betrayal, at least a little. Natasha's betrayal, though? That cuts deep. She was your friend, you'd thought.

As expected of the military, there aren't many women on Naval Air Bases. You, Callie, Callie's wife Meg, Mara, and Natasha had connected fast, taking turns hosting girl's nights and spa weekends. You'd thought the five of you had each other's backs in the man's world you all worked in. Natasha obviously thought differently. 

"Let us help you plan your revenge, yeah? We have six months on a ship to brainstorm ways to make him pay. And that list, it just might be the perfect starting point." Mara's got a devious look in her eyes that promises pain for Bradley Bradshaw.

"I'll brief Callie and Meg on the situation, too, with your permission. Meg will think of the perfect way for Trace to get her just desserts, too." At your nod and a weak smile,  the four of you go on your way. The flight tests will involve all of your concentration, so you put the issue of Bradley Bradshaw in the back of your mind.

When the boys are up in the plane, and the two of you are analyzing all of the data from the instruments connected to the targeting system a couple of hours later, Mara asks you a question in sotto voce.

"Hey. I know it's probably too soon for this, but Seresin's always looked at you differently from other girls flocking to those flyboys when they're in uniform. When the time comes, and you're ready to move on, promise me you'll give him a chance? I don't think the Southern Gentleman thing is an act. He also pulled you out of your funk sooner than anyone else could have."

She's right. Jake had made you feel miles better; he'd let you cry and helped you smile afterward. He'd be so easy to love if your heart weren’t as tender as it is now. You vow then and there to keep yourself from falling for Jake fast and hard. That way means disaster, you know as much after recent experiences. You'd take this burgeoning something brewing between you slowly, if only for the sake of your heart.

Taglist

@greenbaby12 ✈️ @emorychase ✈️ @girl-in-the-chairs-void ✈️

My Taglist for this fic is Open!

Want to be added to the Taglist for this fic? Leave a comment on this masterlist or drop me a message in my inbox!

PLEASE INCLUDE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO. I DO NOT ACCEPT TAG-LIST REQUESTS FROM BLANK OR AGELESS BLOGS. THIS IS AS MUCH FOR MY SAFETY AND LEGALITY ON THE INTERNET AS WELL AS YOURS.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

[dr-dendritic-trees]

He wondered if that had ever happened to Master Baldwyn, back in the old days. If it had, it wasn't in the little book. Bladwyn never made mistakes.

Oh! Baby! No!

I promise Bladwyn made terrible embarrassing mistakes too! One day some poor student is going to get in trouble and think that Master Salmalin never made mistakes.

[waltcrewlog]

Kay Nielsen illustrations for East of the Sun and West of the Moon

Kay Nielsen (1886 - 1957) was a Danish illustrator known for his distinctive graphic, intricate style. He was born to actors, and the influence of the performing arts is reflected in the detailed costumes and patterns of his artwork. He first studied painting in Paris and during his time there, he created a collection of pen and ink illustrations depicting literature and personal experiences, which garnered him an invitation to exhibit his work in London. He moved there in 1910, had his first exhibition in 1912, and worked on several gift book illustration commissions in the following years, including East of the Sun and West of the Moon. He had his first American exhibition in 1917, but following World War I, the popularity of such expensive illustration books waned. Nielsen left London and found work as a costume and set designer for the Royal Theater in Copenhagen, where he worked on productions of The Tempest and Aladdin. While in Denmark, he still found some work illustrating books for English publishers, including editions of Hans Christian Andersen and Brothers Grimm stories. Then in 1936, he went to California to work with his friend and colleague Johannes Poulsen (who had worked on Aladdin with him) to create the sets and costumes for a production of Everyman at the Hollywood Bowl and decided to remain in the States. In 1937, he found employment at Disney where he produced magnificent work for the "Night on Bald Mountain" sequence in Fantasia and created concept art for an adaptation of Hans Christian Andersen's "The Little Mermaid." Decades later when Disney eventually did make an adaptation of this fairy tale, the filmmakers put Nielsen's name in the credits as a visual developer, demonstrating how influential his work continues to be. He was laid off by Disney in 1941 and afterward, worked as a muralist and chicken farmer. By the time of his death in 1957, he had fallen into poverty and obscurity. But by the 1970s, interest in his work had revitalized and continues to this day, for the originality, elegance, and decor of his style is truly one-of-a-kind.

photo sources [x][x]

research sources [x] and "Kay Nielsen's Life and Work: Artist, Designer, Innovator" by Kendra Daniel from the Taschen edition of East of the Sun and West of the Moon edited by Noel Daniel

[winniemaywebber]

Honeysuckle Rose • Part 5

part one part two part three part four

masterlist olive's playlist

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 @hephaestn @manonsmanicmind @derry-rain @bobparkhurst @bloodynereid @archival-hogwash

“Whatcha readin’?”

John Brady stands a few meters away from where Olive is sat, deep in her crumpled and aged copy of her favorite Shakespeare play. She quickly snaps it shut, expecting to be left alone for a little while longer after tiptoeing out of the Red Cross Hut, rising earlier than she anticipated. The gray morning sky had a tint of yellow to it, the sunrise surprisingly warm on her face. It was a sense of warmth and calm belonging she hadn't felt in years and she wanted to savor the moment. Creeping into the Officer’s Club with her book, curling up in one of the large armchairs on offer, she had hoped for a few more moments of peace before the day began. Sensing Brady was having a similar issue, standing there, packing his pipe, she blinks up at him and smiles. 

“The Tempest. In my opinion, the best Shakespeare ever wrote. You know his work?”

“Boy, do I!” He replies gleefully, lighting the pipe that's now in his mouth and shaking the match to extinguish it. “It's my girl's favorite, too!”

“No way! Get outta here. That's amazing.”

“She sure is,” he puffs at the pipe, his eyes glazing over at the wistful mention of her. “She's a schoolteacher. Teaches English to high school kids and she gets so excited at the time of year when the curriculum allows her to share her love of William.” 

“I like the sound of her already. What's her name?”

He smiles, a plume of smoke leaving his lips. “Jules. Juliet.”

“Juliet?” Olive replies, smiling softly at the  apparent coincidence. “As in ‘of the sun’?” 

“The very same,” he responds as he begins to turn on his heel. 

“You'd better tell her about this in your next letter to her, Brady,” she jokingly scolds. “I need someone to read my Shakespeare essays and reviews. She sounds perfect for the job.”

“Oh, she'd love that,” he laughs. 

“No need to be sarky now, John,” she says sullenly, eyes now back on the page she left off from.

“Never!” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I'm being serious. She'd love that. Give me whatever you want her to read.” 

“Bet!”

“I'll pass some good passages on to Dougie, see if he'll give it a try.” 

“John,” she smiles, eyes twinkling. “Please try.”

—

Tattie rushes in an hour later, her eyes widened with stress as she applies her red lipstick on the move, somehow managing to get the shape perfect without a mirror. “I'm so late,” she moans, walking around the club like a headless chicken. “And so hungover. Olive, be a doll and go start setting up the–”

“Already did, Tat. Coffee hot and ready for our boys.”

“The donuts are in–”

“Yep. Got those too. Sitting pretty on their trays, napkins right next to them. Don't worry, I got it covered.”

“You're a darling. I'll buy you a drink at the club tonight to say thanks.”

“Perfect!”

—

Today being a non-mission day did not mean the girls weren't busy. Right as Val and Helen got to the truck, surprised to see Olive so bright eyed and awake - “it'll be the four coffees I've gulped in the past two hours” - the boys came to the truck thick and fast. First was Brady and his crew, M'lle Zig Zig, all wanting their second breakfast of coffee and donuts, Olive and Brady giving one another a knowing nod as she passed him his cup. Next were Bucky and the Mugwump crew, Bucky somehow even more amped for the morning than Olive was, his loud voice booming across base so far that the girls were almost sure the loud noise would have the inhabitants of the local village out of bed thinking it was some type of foghorn pulling them out of their slumber. Not far behind were Buck and Demarco, the crew of Our Baby. 

“Hi, Ol,” Benny says, softly. “Good morning.”

“Benny,” she smiles, handing him a coffee before he's even asked. “And where is the most special guy of all?” A single bark comes from next to Benny, Meatball panting at his side. Olive exits the truck to greet him, knowing that if she invited him up, that would be it for the donuts - nobody was a fan of dog hair sprinkle variety.

“You mind watching him? I know it's only a practice, but I still don't wanna risk it.”

“Sure, Benny. We'll hang out, terrorize Kenny at some point, get him good and tired.”

“Yeah, Kenny needs that,” Benny smirks. 

“You know what I mean,” shoving him playfully. “Be safe, okay?” 

“Yeah, Ol. Always.” 

—

Meatball was getting restless as a few stragglers made their way to the hardstand after visiting the Clubmobile. Despite being tied up, he was trying his best to run, his little face all sad when he realized he wasn't able to roam. 

“You got it from here, Val? That dog is chomping at the bit for a run around.”

“Absolutely, Ollie,” she nods, opening her copy of Screen Stories at the page she'd left off from yesterday. “Anything to make sure those donuts stay Meatball hair free.”

“Thanks, chicken. Be right back. Helen?” She turns to Helen, her beautiful dark hair pulled expertly under a headscarf. “You wanna come too?”

“Please!”

The two begin making their own way over to the hardstand, Meatball pulling keenly at the lead to hurry his companions along, seemingly excited for some carefree recreation time. 

“Morning, ladies!” Ev Blakely comes towards them, brown leather jacket and aviators. Olive giggles, knowing exactly how weak at the knees Val was about to be at the sight of her man in his gear. Dragging behind was the man that had the very same effect on Olive, his hair perfectly slicked back, his sheepskin jacket perfectly fitted on his broad shoulders.

“Helen,” he greets. 

“Dougie,” she replies, a slight wink to Olive as she takes her cue to depart. 

Looking around to make sure nobody is watching, he takes Olive in his arms. “Hi, pretty.”

“Hi, Dougie. Good morning.”

“Good morning indeed,” he winks, kissing the corner of her mouth. “You look beautiful as always.” 

“Stop,” she giggles. “You're looking pretty good yourself.”

“Don't we make a fine pair, doll?”

“We sure do, darling.”

A screech interrupts the moment, Meatball taking off like a shot the second he spots Kenny, sending Helen flying through the air. 

“I'd better go rescue my girl, there.”

“But I wanna stay with my girl here,” he murmurs, winking.

“Your girl, huh?” she says, narrowing her eyes at him. “Very presumptuous. You haven't even asked me.”

“D'you want me to?”

The answer burns up in her body, the yes wanting to spill out so fast that it almost makes her nauseous. She isn't one to be so forthright, forcing the agreeable answer down as fast as it tries to escape her lips. 

“Maybe,” she instead teases, looking up at him flirtatiously through her lashes. “Please be safe, Dougie.”

“It's only a practice, doll.”

“Nevertheless,” she murmurs, her hand stroking his cheek. “I need you to come back to me.”

—

A familiar rumble distracts Meatball, the ball flying past his face as Kenny throws it across the airfield. 

“Meatball!” He yells, trying to get the dog's attention. “Get it, boy!” He stands, stuck to the spot, waiting for Kenny to throw the ball that's already been chucked meters away. 

“I don't got it, dummy! I threw it thatta way. You weren't lookin’!” 

“Aw, leave my pal alone,” Olive pouts, scritching Meatball under the chin. “Here, look,” she says, standing up again. She balls her hand into an almost-fist, an invisible spherical shape in the palm of it. “Go get it,” she yells as she throws the ‘ball’, Meatball taking off like a shot in the direction in which Kenny had thrown the real ball previously.

“Jeez, that darn dog.”

Olive laughs, before turning to the landscape, the sky a cloudless blue with fields rolling along underneath it. The rumble getting louder, Olive shields her eyes with her hand as Meatball brings the ball back to Helen, who instantly screams at the sight miles from them. 

A plane comes hurtling out of the sky, the trees catching fire instantly, a loud BANG heard over the noise of the Land Girls screaming in horror. 

“Holy shit,” Olive gasps, her heart caught in her throat, her body suddenly clammy all over. Helen walks over and grips her hand, her breathing equally as shaky. 

“Get outta here, girls,” Kenny urges, throwing himself into a Jeep.

“No way, Lemmons.”

“I'll come find ya if–” 

“Don't say it.”

“Olive. I'll come find ya, kay?” She simply nods, somehow not able to formulate a coherent thought. With Helen by her side, she feels her hand being tugged on. 

“We'd better get back to the truck,” she says, ushering Olive along. “It'll be okay, doll. Promise. Now, one foot in front of the other please.” Taking Meatball's leash, Olive lets Helen lead her.

Both breaking into a sprint with Meatball running slightly ahead as they approached the Clubmobile, unopened boxes all around it, they manage to catch up with Val and Tattie who had sped back in Tattie’s Jeep. 

“What the hell happened out there?” Olive yells over the sound of the running engine. 

“Baynard, he uh… him and his crew they…”

“Fuck sake! That was them?”

“Yea, it was them.” Val steps out of the jeep, leaning against it with a heavy sigh. Olive begins to walk towards her, gesturing for Meatball to stay put. 

“We just saw them this morning…” Helen remembers, head on the Clubmobile in sadness. 

Val can only nod, not quite able to speak yet due to the shock. A moment of silence is shared between them, Olive trying her best to breathe and calm down. Tears prick at her eyes and threaten to spill out onto her face, and she blinks them back with all her might. “Be a tough girl,” she whispers to herself. “Tough girls don't cry.” 

Helen removes herself from the side of the Clubmobile and walks towards Val, who, still leaning on the Jeep, remains in shock and unblinking until Helen's words bring her back to them. 

“Val? You alright?”

“Yea… just, scared shitless if I’m being honest.”

“Oh honey, I know…”

“Could have been either of them, Helen,” she says sadly, talking of Ev and Curt. "And I’m not keen on being alone.”

“Oh chicken, you’ll never be alone. You’ve got us.” Olive says, joining the two girls, taking Val’s free hand in hers, offering the same comfort as Helen.

“I need to get used to being called chicken as a term of endearment.” Val laughs as her head weakly drops to Olive's shoulder.

“There we go,” she grins. “Feeling better?”

Val nods reluctantly, as she pushes herself up off Jeep to finally stand, walking towards the abandoned boxes. Gesturing for the other girls to give her a hand, she suddenly freezes, that all too familiar scowl appearing between those perfectly outlined eyebrows.

“Meatbal! No!” The three girls look over to where the yell came from and see Tattie, hands on her hips in frustration, the scowl on her face almost rivaling Val’s as Meatball rips into one of the boxes, bouncing on his paws with excitement to try and hold it down as the cardboard escapes from him at every bite.

“I’m gonna kill DeMarco,” Tattie sighs, arms crossed. “Olive, tell your man to train his damn dog!”

“Not my man, Tat,” she replies, feeling Tattie’s pointed look burning into her as her back is turned. 

“Either way,” she sighs, her expression suddenly softer. “Someone needs to tell him.”

—

After a long day, the girls showered and got ready for an evening at the club. Finally taking some lessons from Val and Helen, Olive had, for the first time, managed to set her hair into soft curls with minimal help. While they had set, the girls had insisted on doing her makeup, transforming her into the soft, pink-cheeked girl she was beginning to fall in love with. Val insisted on filling in Olive’s brows and Helen had taken over the lashes, carefully daubing the ink on them with painstaking concentration, her tongue sticking out as she did so. 

“There,” Helen had sighed, closing the mascara box with a soft snap. “Absolutely perfect.” After getting herself ready first, Helen had arranged to meet her other girls at the club later on, keen to soothe the woes of a long day with Tattie as soon as she possibly could. 

Exiting the hut half an hour after Helen, Val and Olive found themselves surprised to see Curt waiting for them, leaning on the building ever so cooly. He had a playful grin about his face, Val rolling her eyes and groaning the second she saw his expression. Olive giggled as he approached them, Curt giving her a wink.

“Can I walk ya to the club, Val?”

“You can; I’m hard pressed to ask what you want, Curt.”

“Honest to God, I just wanna walk ya.”

“Curt?”

“Helen told me you were a bit rattled after today, and I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

Val stops walking, and gives her friend a soft smile. Taking Olive’s hand for a second, she gives her the same smile. “Olive, I’ll catch up.”

“Okay,” she nods, still smiling. “I’ll save your seat!”

Olive begins the short walk to the club from where they had been standing, and sees Benny outside with Meatball, beaming as he sees her.

“Good evening,” he says, loosening his grip on Meatball’s leash as she approaches. 

“Hey, Benny,” she replies, bending down to greet Meatball too. “Hi, buddy, what’s up? Ready for a dance? You owe me one for tearing up all those boxes this morning.”

“Oh, shit. He did what?”

“Tore up a whole box of paper cups. Tattie went ballistic and had a sour face for the rest of the day. You should probably buy her a drink to soften her up a little.”

“Y-yeah, probably a good idea,” he responds, holding the door open for her. “After you, Miss Olive.”

“Thanks, doll.” 

As she walks into the warm, welcoming atmosphere of the club, she spots Dougie right away, standing at the bar with Everett. He’s so handsome that it takes her breath away, feeling herself get a little lightheaded as he senses her eyes on him, smiling sweetly at her as he stubs out his cigarette. 

“Uhm, excuse me for a second, Benny,” she says as she begins to make her way towards the direction of the ladies room.

“Sure. What’ll it be this evening?”

“The usual. Thanks, Benny,” she smiles, his kindness causing a pang of guilt to build up in her stomach, her eyes suddenly pricking with tears as she walks away. 

—

“Get a fucking grip, Ollie,” she says to herself as she hides in a cubicle for a few moments, centering herself the way her drama teacher had taught her. Filling her lungs with air and feeling them deflate, the built up anxiety drifting out of her with each breath. The panic, however, is still there, and the guilt is practically choking her, as two large tears drop onto her lap, taking her by surprise. Benny being such a kind, sweet man, being so genuine - any girl would be lucky to have a man like that. Her thoughts, however, quickly turn back to Dougie; the way the world practically stops turning whenever he looks at her, the way he makes her belly laugh at every opportunity. How he makes her weak at the knees, how he touches her subtly as if it’s their little secret. Realizing she had been in the bathroom a lot longer than anticipated, she washes her hands hurriedly and makes her exit. 

Just outside the door stands Dougie, two glasses in his hand. 

“You sure took your time.”

“God forbid a woman take some time alone,” she giggles, looking down at his hands. “That one for me?” She asks hopefully, the liquid within the glass looking familiar. He nods, handing it to her. 

“It is. Bought it as I came in. And luckily, that wasn’t long before you strolled in with our friend DeMarco.”

“Oh, it’s like that is it?”

“Maybe.” He takes the steps that are separating them and wraps his free arm around her waist. “I really wanna fucking kiss you right now,” he murmurs near her ear. “Can I?” 

Wanting nothing more than to finally feel his mouth on hers, the way she knows it would make her toes curl in delight and give her goosebumps over her entire body, she eyes up their surroundings and shakes her head.

“Not in front of the bathroom, James. Pick a better spot.” He sighs, resting his head on her shoulder. She nuzzles into him, her free hand tickling the back of his neck. “We’d better go,” she whispers sadly, not wanting to let go of him. 

“Don’t wanna,” he purrs into her, nuzzling into her neck now. 

“Dougie,” she pleads, reluctantly moving her shoulder. 

“Fine,” he sighs, his hand now on her face. “You better dance with me later.”

“Deal.” He walks away, leaving her there alone, which she is grateful for. Finding a lone spot right by the bathroom, she downs the drink given to her, the feeling of the alcohol rushing through her veins catching her by surprise. With one more deep breath, she makes her way back to the club where she knows her friends are waiting on her, stopping at the bar to drop off her empty glass.

Stopping is a mistake - within a moment, Olive feels herself accosted by not just Benny and Dougie, but Curt, too. Feeling incredibly overwhelmed, Olive looks around to find her friends gathered around their usual table, Val and Ev gazing into one another’s eyes as if nobody in the room - nor the world - exists. 

It’s Helen that catches Olive’s eye first, Olive’s panicked gaze causing her to stand from her seat suddenly. Murmuring something to Val, she breaks her gaze from her man to stand up, pushing her chair back as she does so. 

“Okay, boys, that’s enough,” she scolds as she pushes through the small crowd to get to Olive’s side. Olive, thankful for the rescue, clings to Val’s hand without a second thought, Val rubbing the back of her friend’s hand in comfort. “I have two very thirsty friends,” she says, referring to Helen and Tattie while staring right at Curt, “waiting on you at the table.”

“I was just–”

“Helen and Tattie are waiting,” she reinstates, a furrow fixed on him that makes him look like he’s about to jump out of his skin. It works, of course, as he hurriedly gets the barkeep’s attention, ordering two rum and cokes and a whiskey for himself. 

“You two,” She turns to Douglass and DeMarco, that furrow still fixed between her brows. “If you’d like to talk to Olive, come and sit with us.” Olive feels her hand being squeezed in comfort  as she remains silent, the panic attack still swelling within her chest. 

“Oh, uh…” Dougie stutters, struggling to come up with an excuse.

“The table, Dougie,” she grins, the smile relaxing the furrow and showing her beautiful teeth. “Benny,” she turns to him now, who is bent down, petting Meatball, trying to avoid the confrontation. “You and Meatball are welcome to join us.”

Taking Olive by the arm, Val gets them back to the table in a flash. Olive smiles, shaking her head and finally able to formulate a coherent sentence.

“You could rule the world, Valencia DiRosano.”

“No,” she laughs, her eyes slightly wrinkling at the edges with glee. “But I could certainly whip these fellas into shape.” 

They all crowded around the table, snagging extra chairs from other groups with a pretty smile to make room for them all. Four Red Cross girls, three pilots, a bombardier and a dog, all sat around a small table, looking every part a hodgepodge group. Val had got up from her chair and sat in Ev’s lap as he’d patted his knee with a twinkle in his eye, Meatball instantly jumping into the empty chair the very second she had stood up from it. That got a laugh from the whole group, as he perched on the chair with his paws on the table, quite the distinguished gentleman; the most gentlemanly at the table, Olive thought, as Curt regaled a tale loudly of an event from old times that of course included Val and a blonde that she described as “practically garbage.” Everett holding her in his lap as he laughed, Curt’s voice getting more animated and louder to keep the attention on him.

“I ain’t never seen anything like it,” he reiterates, his arms flopping as he does so. “One minute she’s across the room, and the next, she’s got this girl by the elbow, hauling her out like–”

“Trash, Curt. Because, she was trash,” she sniggers, her words overlapping his in a rushed frenzy. Olive hears Benny chuckling to the right of her. 

“So, we know who to call when we need a quick exit, then, is that it?”

“Call Tattie,” Val laughs, taking a sip of her drink. “She’s just as good as I am!”

“Oh, please!” Tattie replies from across the table. “You’re the muscle. You managed to tame Kidd of that God awful scowl he’s been wearing for weeks.”

“That’s Egan’s fault,” Helen says with a sigh. “Went and got himself demoted,” she says, mostly to Olive who has a confused look on her face. 

“How exactly do you get demoted from Air Exec?” Dougie ponders to Olive’s left as he lights himself another cigarette. Olive stares at him as he does so, the first small breath of smoke leaving his mouth as he talks. Without thinking, Olive reaches over and plucks it from pretty fingers, grinning all the while before placing it in her mouth and taking a drag. “Hey!” he teases, hand going to her lips to grab it back. She hands it back after only one inhale, feeling Benny’s sad eyes on her back as it all takes place. 

“You lot up for a group shot?” A man, stood with a camera around his neck walks up to the gang.

“Absolutely!” Tattie grins, having everyone get into place so they fit. She has Benny place Meatball up front, already doing his best pose with his tongue hanging out in happiness. Val stays put on Blakely’s lap, her arm around his neck and his on her waist. In a swift movement, Dougie pulls Olive onto his lap, looking like the cat that got the cream.

“Hi,” she giggles, trying to sit pretty, his blue eyes following her every movement. Curt had somehow squeezed himself in too, between Helen and Tattie with Benny close by.

“Alright, you guys. On three!”

—

To Olive’s surprise, Curt holds a hand out to Helen. “Humor a poor sap with a dance?”

Not hearing what else is said, Olive sees Helen take his hand as he guides her from her chair to the dancefloor. Olive sees a nod pass between Val and Tattie as Tattie stands, tugging at Dougie’s hand. “Come on, you. Let’s stretch our legs, hmm?”

“Sure, Tattie…” his eyes quickly glazing over as Benny offers Olive his hand. 

“Shall we?”

“We shall.”

The music swells all around them, Olive and Dougie making eye contact as they dance with their respective partners.

“You know,” she begins, Benny swaying with her gently. “We’re spending this time together and I still know so little about you. Tell me about yourself.”

“Well,” he starts, his expression full of thought. “I lived in Chicago before I enlisted. I decided to enlist in 1940.”

“Wow,” Olive replies, taken aback. “Earlier than a lot of these boys.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods. “I was just determined to serve my country. I knew something was coming even before Pearl Harbor, and I wanted to make sure I could be a part of it.”

“That’s very brave, Benny. Stuff like that doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“Just doing my job, Olive,” he says with a shrug. “It’s what we’re all doing.”

At that moment, Olive feels herself being softly pushed into another partner, Tattie signaling Benny to dance with her. 

“Oh, I see what she’s up to.”

“It was my idea.”

“Yeah, no shit, Dougie. Color me surprised.” Nevertheless, she feels herself smile at him, both of their eyes softening as they look at one another. She suddenly realizes what happens between Val and Everett. At this moment, nobody else in this room - nor the world - exists. It’s just her and James, swaying to a slow love song, his hand in hers and the other on her waist. She closes her eyes for a second, a slow breath leaving her pursed lips. 

“You okay?” Dougie asks, his voice etched with concern.

“Yes, doll,” she replies, her hands going around his neck. 

“You’re lookin’ at me like I’ve hung the moon in the sky or somethin’,” he grins.

“Because I think, maybe you have.” She lets her head fall to his shoulder, him planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. 

“Is this a better spot?” he asks, his lips brushing against her nose as he leans his neck down slightly. Coming back up to face him, a worried expression on her face, she shakes her head once again.

“I’d love nothing more than to have you kiss me, Dougie–”

“Then let me.”

“Not in front of Benny, darling. That’s not fair.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, his eyes downcast. “But you want me to, right?”

“I do. I absolutely do. It’s killing me to have to deny myself that. But I’m not here to hurt people, nor make them upset. Can you understand that?”

“I can,” he smiles, sadly. “You’re so fucking sweet, Ol. Just adorable.”

“Sweet on you,” she replies, her lips pressed to his cheek. 

“Ah, shit,” he murmurs, his eyes focused on something above the door. Benny walks over, patting him on the shoulder. “Gotta go, buddy.”

“Yeah, Benny. Be right there.”

Olive turns and sees the familiar red light beaming over the club, the band finishing suddenly in the middle of their song. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” She says, her voice suddenly tightening. 

“I know. I can hardly wait.” Clearing his throat, he leans in again and finds her ear. “Goodnight, goodnight. Parting is such sweet sorrow.” Olive pulls away, brows furrowed in amazement and confusion.

“You’ve been talking to Brady, huh?”

“Come on, Ol. He said his girl likes this one, so I thought I’d try it, too. Finish it.” Olive laughs at the sudden seriousness on his face, his blue eyes suddenly resembling Meatball’s. She breathes, trying to compose herself.

“That I shall say goodnight till it be morrow. There. Happy now?”

“See, wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“You’re insufferable, James Douglass.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s why you like me.”