#this has been bothering me for weeks off and on

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Prologue

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?)

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Azriel had always liked Starfall. 

Even he could enjoy one night a year where they danced and were merry…where they pretended that everything was just fine. 

Just that this year…he couldn’t quite manage it. 

Feyre had invited Lucien. 

A year after that catastrophic Winter Solstice. 

And for the very first time, Elain…Elain seemed not just willing but genuinely happy to converse with her mate.

*Keep away from her,* Rhys had repeated his order that morning, making it very clear what he wanted his spymaster to do. And Azriel…well, he had acquiesced. 

Of course, he did. 

Nobody had even noticed when he had slipped away…Nobody had wanted to notice. Why should they? They were all content...they were all happy.

Mor's mating bond with Emerie had snapped just weeks before and that had...everybody was so very pleased for her.

*You are not going to ruin this for Mor,* Rhys had snapped into his mind. *She has been through enough.*

Azriel wasn't going to ruin it. 

So he pretended that everything was normal. And then he disappeared silently, and launched himself off the balcony and went flying. He didn't need to think when he did that. Even the shadows kept silent.

The night sky was a velvety black, speckled with countless glittering stars. 

Azriel loved to fly, loved the rush of the wind buffeting his body, the exhilarating feeling of power and freedom. He soared high into the sky, basking in the cool breeze on his face.

At least he had this .

As a child it was all he had wanted. And now...now it was...now it was seemingly the one thing that gave him something close to peace. The last few green sparkling streaks on the sky...Skyfall was nearly over, once again.

He basked in it for a little while. Until he felt the scratch of Rhys' mental claws against his walls.

*Azriel,* Rhys' voice was harsh, sharp, demanding. *Where are you?*

* Out. * Azriel answered simply. * Flying. *

*Come back,* Rhys ordered with a sigh. *Look, I get it. You are angry at me.*

Azriel didn't even bother answering to that, swooping lower and then pushing higher again, revelling in the cold night air.

*Elain and Lucien are figuring things out,* Rhys continued.

* Good for them, * Azriel replied, his tone still bland. * Is there anything else? *

Rhys let out an exasperated breath.

*Azriel...I am sorry,* his brother apologised. *Be angry at me all you like. This would have only ended in heartbreak for you anyway.*

*That should have been my decision to make,* Azriel's voice was cold, curt, brooking no argument.

Rhys sighed. *Not if the political ramifications could have upset an already strained peace,* Rhys snapped. *Be reasonable, Azriel.*

* Are you done? * he asked Rhys drily.

*Azriel... * Rhys' voice was exasperated. *Fine. Be angry with me, if it makes you feel better,* his brother snorted. *If you want to throw a tantrum like a child, be my guest.*

Azriel gritted his teeth. This was not a tantrum. *Great. Thanks.* he shot back at Rhys nonetheless.

*Elain is happy, Azriel,* Rhys said softly. *And you should be happy for her.*

* Fine, * he said, voice toneless. * I am happy for her. What else do you want from me, Rhys? *

*For you to stop sulking,* Rhys replied. *And to come back to the Party.*

*No,* Azriel said simply, making another loop in the sky, feeling the wind rushing past him.

*Azriel,* Rhys growled, his temper shortening. I mean it. 

*I think I'll go to that pleasure hall near the harbour instead,* Azriel said, his voice cold. * After all, if I want to fuck somebody, I should go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, right? *

*Azriel!* his brother snapped, clearly irritated. *That is enough.*

* What? I am just following your orders, High Lord, * Azriel gave back icily.

*You sound like a petulant child.* Rhys snapped.

* Go back to your party, * Azriel said drily. * I'll be just fine. *

Rhys let out a huffing breath. *Fine. Go and pout some more.*

Azriel ignored his brother, closing the connection and feeling his walls snap back into place.He would pout some more. Thank you very much.

Azriel flew higher, ignoring the party, ignoring everything. He pushed his wings faster, harder, revelling in the wind, in the silence, in the stars above him.

The only sound he could hear was his heartbeat, pulsing in his ears, matching the beating of his wings as he flew. He flew and flew and flew, until his muscles ached, until his wings felt heavy.

It was nice. He liked it. He loved it, in fact.

There was a reason he loved flying so much. It was freedom, it was a rush, but most of all it was quiet.

He did go back to the House of Wind…even when he had no plans to go back to that party. He would go to his room and pout some more. Maybe write some more reports.

Do whatever the High Lord expected the Spymaster to do. 

He landed one one of the many, many balconies, recognising the Priestesses’ herb garden with a start. 

"Spymaster."

Azriel froze for a heartbeat, closing his eyes, cursing mentally. He had wanted to come back unnoticed, to slip in silently. But apparently he wasn’t the lucky. 

One of the Priestesses was sitting on the balcony’s ledge. He wasn’t scared that she was going to jup, simply because the balconies were spelled to prevent exactly that. 

Sitting there, wrapped in a thick knitted blanket, with dark brown hair reached her waist was Irena. 

Clotho’s right hand. The one in charge of seemingly all the paperwork that involved the library. All the bureaucracy went over Irena’s desk, all the accounts and acquisitions… 

She was the daughter of one merchant of the midlands, married off to another richer merchant as soon as she had been barely old enough. 

Azriel had met her for the first time two centuries ago. There had been a string of disappearances of young girls in the surrounding areas and his shadows had very quickly found the culprit. 

Azriel had killed her husband…before he could kill Irena. Her husband had had a taste for violence…his young, beautiful wife had been one of his long-suffering victims. 

Azriel had brought her to the library. He hadn’t really thought that she would bloom here as she had…hadn’t thought that a girl raised with a silver spoon in her mouth would be content with in the library. But she was. 

And Irena turned out to be one of those scarily efficient people that could do the job of three people. In two hundred years, she had actually managed to make the House of Wind cost Rhys nearly nothing in upkeep anymore. Thanks to the gardens of the priestesses that kept them in fruits and vegetables and herbs…some of them sold to the vendors in Velaris, some turned into creams and potions in the stillroom, that were also sold…the library was just one thing the priestesses did. Some preferred the stillroom or the gardens or even needle work, knitted sweaters that were handed out to the needy in Velaris.

She had done that. Had bloomed and flourished here. 

"Irena," he finally brought out, his voice hoarse.

She turned to face him for the first time. She had just grown more beautiful over the years…with long dark hair and dark doe eyes sat in a delicate face. 

But all of that didn’t matter anymore. The moment their eyes met...suddenly everything changed.

His priorities were rearranged. All he cared about anymore was her. Was the priestess wrapped in her wool blanket sitting on that balcony ledge…

Irena. 

She was his mate .

" Oh ," she breathed, her brown doe eyes widening near comically large.

Azriel just stared at her, feeling as though even the world had stopped breathing.

His mate .

His mate was sitting in front of him. 

Irena .

Irena was his mate.

"Azriel," she whispered,  her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper.

 They just stared at each other for a long, long time. He stepped closer to her, wanting to touch her, wanting to feel her soft skin beneath his fingers, her soft lips against his. He wanted to pull her close...he wanted...

But Azriel didn't reach out. he didn't want to scare her. Didn't want to corner her. So he simply leant next to the railing a little bit away from her, still staring at her. "I..." he stuttered, trying to come up with he perfect sentence to tell his mate.

"I...I didn't expect that," Irena whispered.

"Me neither," Azriel said quietly, still slightly breathless, the information slowly sinking in.

"But it's not... unwelcome ?" Irena offered next.

"Absolutely not," Azriel said immediately. "I mean..." he said. She looked so small, sitting there on the ledge, wrapped into her blanket. One delicate shoulder poked out of it, only covered by white, near translucent cotton. She must only be wearing her nightdress, he realised suddenly. 

She looked…so young right at that moment. 

"Are you okay?" he asked her quietly, still staring at her, a soft, tender feeling spreading through him.

His . She was his .

Irena closed her eyes with a heavy breath, before nodding hesitantly. "I just....this was..." she said slowly, not daring to look at him. "It was unexpected."

"For both of us," Azriel said quietly, trying to read her expression. Was it...was she happy? Was she upset ?

She nodded, and then bit her lip. "I..." she started and his eyes lingered at that small, plump lip of hers, wishing that he would be the one biting it.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly and he instantly snapped his eyes back up to her face. "Sorry?" he echoed, frowning, because...what was she apologizing for?

"I mean," she continued, her dark brows knitting together as she bit her lip. Oh dear god, Azriel had never wanted to be a lip so much in his life. "I... I don't think I'm what you were expecting ."

Azriel took a breath, ready to assure her that he was positively delighted at the prospect of her being his mate but the words didn't quite leave his lips because...

"Are you dissappointed?" he managed, his hands clenching around the railing. He was scared what her answer would be.

She finally looked at him. Looked into his eyes and Azriel felt the world slow down for a moment, felt his throat tighten as she searched his expression, searching for something.

Whatever she was searching for, she seemed to find it though because she let out a sigh of relief, her lips quirking into a small, self-depreciating smile. "No," she said honestly. Azriel's breath caught at the Genuity on her face. "No, I'm not. But I...I don't know what...if I can ever give you..." Irena said weakly.

He shook his head. "We have time," Azriel promised her fiercely. All the time. They could figure this out at their own pace.

"Time," Irena echoed softly, looking towards the vast, twinkling night sky, the stars reflected in her eyes.

She looked back at him for a moment, and he could see an almost helpless expression in her eyes.

 "I...I don't want to disappoint you,” she said quietly. 

"You couldn’t," Azriel whispered, still staring at her, at the beautiful face of his mate. "Believe me, you never could disappoint me."

She gave him the tiniest smile. She didn't believe him, he knew that. Regardless of how ridiculous it was. She deserved more than him. More than scarred and battered and broken warrior.

"I will never...I will never force you," he promised her softly. "I will never..."

She nodded, but Azriel still saw something like relief flash over her face.

It broke his heart. "You are a good male," she whispered.

"No. I am not," Azriel immediately disagreed, because he knew he wasn't. He couldn't even begin to name all the things he had done, all the horrors he had committed. 

He had killed her husband. That was just one of the things on his long, long list. “You deserve better than me,” he said weakly. 

"You are my mate," Irena murmured softly. "There is nothing better."

"I...have...killed people," he protested. Killed her husband too. though he did think that that male deserved it.

"You did," she agreed. "You are a warrior. A protector. You were the one that saved me" she said quietly.

Irena took a deep breath, and then, slowly, reached out, touching his scarred fingers, running small, delicate fingertips over the back of his hands, and Azriel froze, completely still, hardly able to breath as she slowly traced the scars on his skin.

Her touch was light, but searing, making his skin tingle.

He slowly turned his hand, catching her fingers between his, squeezing gently as he intertwined their hands.

"I will never force you. I will never lay a finger on you. Whatever we do in the future, is your decision," he swore. 

She stared up at him, the stars reflected in her eyes, her cheeks a faint pink.

Beautiful . Azriel thought, mesmerized and completely enraptured.

"I believe you," she whispered and Azriel's breath caught.

From her...that had been hurt so much...to hear that...it was...

"I will protect you," Azriel promised fiercely and her breath hitched as he lifted her hand, carefully, gently pressing his lips to the tips of her fingers. "I will protect you with my life."

She smiled at him then, a real smile, and Azriel felt as though his heart might stop. He had thought her beautiful before, but now, with her face illuminated in all its delicate beauty by the starry night sky...she was breathtaking .

"I...I will need some time to adjust," Irena said softly. Azriel just nodded dumbly, still a little star struck by her smile. "I...I haven't..." Irena said and she turned her head, looking out into the night sky, her hand still in his.

She hesitated, clearly struggling for words, and Azriel felt his heart seize up in his chest. Had he overwhelmed her? Had he pressured her?

"I haven't been with anyone in a long time." she admitted quietly. Irena didn't look at him, but Azriel was still looking at her, taking in her soft, almost angelic features, the slight blush on her cheeks.

He swallowed."I understand," Azriel whispered, and he did. He understood her hesitation, her uncertainty. And he would be patient...he would wait for as long as she needed.

"But...if you wanted to...you know where to find me," she said softly.

Azriel felt as though he was dreaming. He had found his mate, his beautiful, incredible mate, and she had welcomed him, wanted him even, and

Breathe .  He told himself as he tried to calm the hammering of his heart. Breathe .

And slowly, carefully, he nodded, his fingers still interlaced with hers. "I will come to you," he said, his voice husky. "Whenever you want me too."

She was...a gift. A gift he didn't deserve but would treasure always.

Slowly...and so, so very carefully, Azriel stepped closer to her, still holding her hand, before lowering himself slowly down to sit next to her on the ledge. And this close he could sense just how much smaller she was than him, could feel the heat radiating from her body, smell her scent.

Poppies and something sweet and warm like…apple blossoms maybe?

Azriel wanted...gods, he wanted to kiss her.

But he didn't. He just held her hand, trying to memorize every small detail of hers. The curve of her cheek, the soft blush on her skin, her nose, the full lips.... The tiny flecks of gold in her eyes that reflected the stars above them.

She was breathtakingly beautiful

For a moment Azriel forgot where there were, forgot the cold air around them. For a moment there were only the two of them on this ledge, beneath the stars and a soft night sky. And it was...he felt peaceful .

It wasn't a feeling he had a lot. But here, on the ledge, his hand in hers, he felt at peace. And when Irena slowly rested her head on his shoulder, Azriel could feel nothing but utter contentment.

His heart swelled with affection for her, and he carefully rested his cheek against her head, taking a deep breath.

This was real. She was his mate.

She was truly, truly his.

His .

And nobody knew. Nobody had a clue. He could keep her all to himself.

And selfishly...that felt really good.

Nobody was going to have an opinion about them. Nobody needed to know now.

He wanted to keep her a secret. Gods, he wanted to.

She let out a soft, content sigh, her head still resting on his shoulder, and Azriel smiled to himself.

Notes:

If you liked this fic, then kudos, comments or constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!

[the-gay-trashmouth]

I think something that's bothers me about how folks talk about mouthwashing is how they talk about Swansea. It's either "Swansea would have killed Jimmy immediately if Anya had told him" or "he knew and he did nothing just like curly." because, to me at least it leaves out a lot of nuance to his character and situation. Curly and Swansea are really good foils to each other, one who's got a reputation for being the kind and helpful captain but in the end does nothing to truly protect the crew from Jimmy, and one who's gruff, harsh, and cruel but genuinely tries to help in the background, the reliable mechanic.

(read more for a long Mouthwashing character ramble tw for unwanted pregnancy and SA)

Because Curly is the one with the power. He doesn't take what Jimmy did seriously enough. And you can say that he might not have known fully what Jimmy did, but I think the "I told you" pregnancy conversation and his reaction to Jimmy right before the crash ("come on we'll get through this together. We'll figure it out, you've had hard times before-") are indicators that he knew, but he still chose to stick by his friend and treat it like a "mistake" rather than what it really was.

Now that's my own personal speculation of course, there's no outright scene of her telling him "your best friend assaulted me", but I think there's enough evidence in game through Anya and Curlys interactions to say that he knew, and he knew before Anaya knew she was pregnant. He had a fully functioning ship and four fully functional cryo-pods. He could have at least given Anya more security, kept her far away from him, and at most forced him into the cryopod until they got back to earth. Jimmy STILL had full, uncontrolled access to the cockpit AFTER his freakout with curly. AFTER Anya tells curly she doesn't feel safe with him. AFTER Curly finds out he raped Anya. He's so focused on seeing the good in his friend that he does NOTHING to protect Anya, doesn't strip away not one of Jimmy powers as copilot and consequently endangers her and the rest of the crew.

Curly was the captain, he had the power to relegate Jimmy to the fucking storage closet if he really wanted, at least put him in the cryopod until they got back to earth. In fact, he was the only person above Jimmy in terms of rank on the ship, but he chose to do nothing. He chose to let Jimmy continue as acting co-pilot, chose to comfort him rather than actually confront him. Slides off his weird sexual comments as jokes "So what's this about horses?"

Now let's compare that to Swansea, the mechanic.

We don't have any evidence that Swansea knew about what Jimmy did until after the crash ("it's been her telling me things") where they were trapped with no captain, barely any rations, and a single cryopod that he kept hidden away in the one room he had the key too (and the only room that could lead into medbay). He didn't use it for himself, he makes it clear he didn't intend on getting off this hunk of metal in his last few conversations with Jimmy.

Swansea as the ship's mechanic, was used to fixing things in the background. He didn't need to get along with anyone to keep the ship running, he didn't need people to like him to keep them safe. We see that with Daisuke. He's harsh on him, for sure, but he leaves constant notes to help him learn. Genuinely tries to keep him out of harm's way when it comes to more dangerous jobs. We know Anya was scared of Jimmy getting a weapon, she hid the gun case in the medical bay even knowing she would never get it open. We can see Swansea and Anya off on their own towards the first days after the crash, and Swansea still has a tight grip of the axe weeks and months later.

I personally think that was him trying to keep Jimmy from having access to a weapon. The only time Jimmy gets the axe while Swansea is alive is when Anya Specifically asks him to use it to get medical supplies. I don't think that's a coincidence.

Swansea, like any good mechanic, was quietly trying to keep things running out of Jimmy's sight. It's not until everyone is dead or dying that he snaps, that he finally takes direct action. But it was too little too late.

Both Curly and Swansea thought they were doing the right thing, helping in their own way. Curly genuinely wanted to see the good in Jimmy, wanted it to just be some challenge they could overcome, but in doing so he failed to see the monster right in front of him. He had all the power (in context of the crew, the company is a whole other can of worms I have so many other thoughts on), but he was too afraid to use it. Hell, he was DISCOURAGED to use it if the memo about HR complaints are anything to go by. Swansea, on the other hand, never trusted Jimmy, never even really liked him, but he didn't want to make anything worse either. He didn't know what would actually set Jimmy off, or what he was capable of, and aside from just straight up killing him what else could he do that wouldn't just push Jimmy further off the edge? Like with the foam. "One wrong move and you'll rip this ship a new asshole", he worked carefully, hiding the last pod from Jimmy, keeping the only other weapon on himself, guarding the only other entrance into Medbay, but Jimmy was escalating quickly. He underestimated how far Jimmy was willing to go, just like Curly had, and in the end suffered the consequences.

The only character who actually understood how dangerous and unstable Jimmy was is Anya. She knew the moment she found out she was pregnant he would hurt her ("you won't let me protect myself"). He wouldn't be able to take it, he would do something drastic. She knew he was escalating the longer they were stranded. Anya is the only crew member who truly understood how dangerous Jimmy was and took direct action.

And interesting thing to me is that she doesn't just kill herself. She locks herself in the medbay. She could have waited for Jimmy to sleep, or locked herself in the cockpit, but she locked herself in the medbay with Curly. She knows that with her gone there would be no one left to take care of him, she knew Jimmy would continue to escalate his abuse, and with her gone all of his anger and fear and guilt would turn on Curly.

And wouldn't you know it? She was right. Without Anya to stop him, he takes curly out of the bed, forces him upright into the cryopod, and forces a man with no skin, no arms, no legs, and infected tissues to be frozen for 20 years while the rest of his crew Rot. And that's only what we know to be reality- if any of his delusions had some basis in reality he could have done so so much more. Anya is the Only one to take reasonable, direct action to keep herself, and then Curly, safe.

But she didn't have enough power over Jimmy to truly protect herself. She didn't have the code to the gun case, she didn't have a weapon or a rank to fall back on. She was outnumbered by men who she knew from experience either wouldn't or couldn't keep her safe, and she was heavily pregnant with a baby she didn't want and most likely couldn't even get enough nutrients to sustain either her or the fetus. She was physically weakened and trapped in a stranded ship with her abuser with no way home and a medical miracle (curse) in Curly.

This game is a really good reflection of reality, in my opinion as an abuse survivor. Some people will see them as "one of the boys" and constantly excuse or downplay their actions (Curly), some people will do small things in the background, recognize the abuse and disprove, but don't want to get in the way or make things worse (Swansea), and some people are just straight up oblivious/naive (Daisuke). But in the end, it's the system that allows abuse and incentives coverups to keep peace or save face that really allows abuse to fester and escalate.

Which is why I personally have a problem with the idea that Anya should have just Told A Different Man because it ignores the very real chain of power and her own agency in her story, AS WELL AS the idea that Swansea and Diasuke knew but didn't care because that's just not reflective of real life. Not every man is some rapist apologist who doesn't care what abusers do until it happens to them, some people just don't know what to do, or don't have any good options that wouldn't result in further abuse. Hell some people just don't even fucking notice! Not everyone has had exposure to the signs or knows what to look for.

It's easy when looking at fictional depictions of abuse to say "well if I was there I would have just punched him/killed him/called the police" but real life, in that moment, its never going to be clear cut. You can call out abuse, but that might just lead to that abuser taking it out on their abuse victim later. They could even start to target you for daring to speak out, or try to hurt you and cut you off from the person being abused. You can know all the right steps and the right programs, but in the moment, when faced with a real situation where someone could get hurt or even killed? You stumble. You think things over, you don't try and make any direct moves that would set their abusers off. Sometimes that's a good instinct, and sometimes that just lets abuse escalate. It's never a good situation, and it's never actually anyone's fault but the abusers. And this way of thinking also conveniently leaves out the survivor of this abuse, and portrays them as someone who needs to be saved, rather than someone who needs support and resources to save themselves. It also very conveniently lets the company that Put Anya in this situation in the first place get off Scott free.

The solution isn't "oh one of the men on board should have personally killed Jimbo and saved Anya all by himself" its "Anya deserved the support of her crewmates instead of being forced into close proximity with her rapist and also maybe Jimmy shouldn't have access to the fucking controls or medbay or any weapons- AND ALSO the crew shouldn't have financial incentives not to report things to HR"

[ppleasexanny]

pictures of us.

matt x reader

you’ve never been in a relationship, not that you don’t want to be in one, but no one has ever found you attractive. your friends always came to you for advice, talking to you about their problems, their crushes, their love lives. 

“what should i say to him?” 

“he’s mad at me, what should i do?” 

“he’s been avoiding me for weeks! should i break up with him?” 

of course, you were happy for them, always offering advice with a genuine smile, but sometimes, deep down, you wished you were in their shoes. so many boys were enamored by their beauty, constantly chasing after them, leaving you to wonder, what about me? what was wrong with you? why didn’t anyone ever look at you the way they looked at them? 

it didn’t take long for you to stop caring. you convinced yourself that you didn’t need anyone to be happy. your life could be complete without someone else filling that space. 

“...but i also was- are you even listening to me?” matt’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his words breaking through your trance. you blinked, realizing that you were sitting in his room on his bed, watching him talk while your mind had drifted away to places you didn't want to acknowledge. 

“hm?” you looked up, surprised by how much you had zoned out. matt was standing in front of you, dressed in his usual grey sweatpants, the waistband of his red calvin klein boxers peeking out from under them. he was just a few feet away, but your mind had wandered so far. 

“oh, sorry. i think i just... zoned out. what were you saying?” 

matt sighed, sitting beside you, his presence a little more serious than before. something about his tone didn’t sit right with you. 

“you’ve been acting... strange for the past few days. what’s up with you?” his voice was soft, but there was a frown on his face, concern in his eyes. 

“what do you mean by strange? i’m perfectly fine!” you didn’t realize how defensive you sounded until the words left your mouth. your voice rose sharply, startling both you and matt. 

he looked at you, his brows furrowing in confusion. why had you raised your voice? he hadn’t said anything wrong. he was just worried. but why did it bother you so much? 

matt’s voice softened, his gaze shifting from confusion to something else—something unreadable. “i’m just worried, okay? you’ve been... different. more distant.” 

you felt a tightness in your chest, but you didn’t know how to express what was really going on. maybe it was just easier to pretend like everything was fine. 

“maybe i’m just tired,” you said quickly, trying to brush it off. “nothing to worry about, matt.” 

but matt didn’t let it go. “i don’t think it’s just that. we’ve known each other forever, and i can tell when something’s off with you. if you’re going through something, you know you can talk to me.” 

your heart skipped a beat. was he just being a good friend? or was there something more? the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so concerned—it made your stomach flutter, but you quickly shut the thought down. no, you couldn’t be thinking like that. 

you didn’t respond immediately, your mind racing. instead, you changed the subject, almost too quickly. “hey, are you still watching gravity falls with your brothers?” you asked, hearing the familiar voices coming from the living room. “i love that show.” 

matt’s frown deepened, but he didn’t press any further. “yeah. they’re probably still watching. you wanna join them?” 

you smiled, but the thought of spending time with matt felt... different now. what is wrong with me? you thought, shaking your head. stop overthinking. 

𝜗𝜚

you loved music. you loved drawing. and those two passions, together, created something perfect for you. when you drew, it wasn’t just about the lines and colors. it was about the rhythm of the music guiding you, inspiring every stroke. you were like a painter with a soundtrack, each note blending seamlessly with the colors swirling on your canvas. music pulsed through your veins, setting the tempo, and guiding your hand. without it, drawing felt like trying to drive a car without fuel—motionless, incomplete. you couldn’t imagine creating anything without the melodies that calmed your mind and stirred your soul. 

matt was in the living room, watching gravity falls with his brothers. you loved this show. it was fun, clever, and full of strange adventures. but today, your thoughts felt distracted. you knew you shouldn’t, but something about the quiet of the house and matt being so engrossed in his show made you do it. you stood up from the chair that was next to matt’s desk and grabbed the diary he’d left behind, curiosity gnawing at you. 

inside, you found something unexpected 

pictures of you and him. 

at first, you giggled, feeling a warm sensation spread through you as you flipped through the pages. it was filled with things you two had talked about, little moments that seemed so simple but meant so much. but then you turned to the last page. 

it was a recent entry, dated for today. 

"might tell her how i feel tomorrow." 

your heart skipped a beat as you stared at the words, your mind trying to process what it meant. could it be? was matt talking about you? 

you ran your fingers over the page, over the ink. your thoughts raced. he’s been acting different, you realized. but i thought it was just me... 

you remembered the way matt had looked at you earlier, his eyes soft and full of concern. his subtle touches, the way he’d always been there when you needed him. you never thought much of it, not really. but now, the idea that he might feel something more made your chest tighten, and a strange warmth flooded your cheeks. 

you weren’t sure what to do with this new information. should you confront him? did you want him to tell you how he felt? what if it changed everything between you two? what if it ruined your friendship? 

you closed the diary, setting it down carefully on the bed. for the first time in a long while, you weren’t sure what to think, and the uncertainty was overwhelming. 

𝜗𝜚

later that evening, you were sitting in the living room, drawing absentmindedly. matt was still watching gravity falls, but his brothers weren’t there. you could feel his presence next to you, a palpable tension hanging in the air. you kept stealing glances at him, trying to figure out how to bring it up, or whether you should at all. 

just tell him, you thought. but fear of rejection, fear of ruining everything held you back. 

when matt finally turned to you, his voice was soft. “hey... i was wondering if we could talk about something.” 

you froze. oh no. here it comes. 

“sure,” you said, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. 

he hesitated for a moment, then exhaled slowly, as if gathering courage. “you’ve been distant lately. and i know you’ve been... busy, but i just want you to know i’m here if you need anything. i... i care about you, okay?” 

your heart skipped another beat, and for a moment, everything else faded away. i care about you. 

suddenly, everything seemed clearer. but as you looked at him, you realized something—this wasn’t the same as what you had imagined. it was more. the butterflies in your stomach weren’t just from curiosity anymore. 

you swallowed hard, your throat dry. “i care about you too, matt.” 

he smiled softly, but there was something more in his eyes. something he wasn’t saying yet, but you knew it was there. and in that moment, 

everything changed. 

a/n... first fic hellooooo what are we thinkingg? send some requests please! i was literally so excited before even posting this lmfao 😭 @strnilolover <3

© PPLEASEXANNY

[zombii-hoe]

Yandere M! BFF x Reader

Yan BFF who you've been friends since middle school , the poor kid being bullied relentless from his peers for his weight. Stepping in, the bullies threatened to also beat you but that didn't really bother you. A few punches later, they run off with their tails tucked and yan bff stares at you in awe.

Yan BFF who then follows you around the school, too shy to approach and ask if you want to be friends. Luckily for him, you made that move yourself

Yan BFF who somehow becomes your best friend a few weeks later. Just don’t ask your old friends why they’ve been so distant with you. They don’t want to deal with anonymous threats again. This doesn't change even when he's an adult.

Yan BFF who questions EVERYONE you try to befriend you. "Are you sure you want to be their friend, [Name]? I think they're the same weirdo that probably stole that kid's puppy, but if you want to their friend go ahead, I won't stop you."

Yan BFF who grows to become a dick to others but a total mess for you. He could scare off people with a simple glare but becomes a stumbling, clumsy idiot who tries his best to impress you.

"The hell are you looking at, fuckface?"

*Notices you waving at him from down the street from the corner of his eye* "OMG HI BFF!!"

"...h-hi, [Name]!"

Yan BFF who puffs out his chest when people mistaken you as a couple, he doesn't say anything and basks in the title of 'couple', but you let out a snort and wrap a hand around his slutty waist. "Oh! No, no, he's my best friend!"

Death has never looked better for him. But Yan BFF can't give up! Not when he's the only one who ever understands your obsession of that one guy from that anime you always, or reading downright smutty fanfiction of them together, or when he cuddles you when you're sick, not caring that he'll also get sick, just ignore him smelling your hair.

Hell, even strangers think you guys should be together. Maybe you might need a little nudge in the right direction. It's okay though! He'll give you some more time to realize you guys are meant to be together.

Yan BFF will always try his hardest to make you fall for him, no matter how much you cry and scream at him when he finally has you in his grasps.

Want more of this? Buy me a ko-fi! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[s1m0nth3swag]

Could you write “How would Viktor does when reader has depression”.

Of course! Thanks for the ask pookie :)

These r a little short because I am still ill (and my head is literally killing me as I type this) but Viktor is more important than getting well!! (Also bawling my eyes out after act 3, even though I'd still love Viktor nonetheless, machine or not, he's getting it)

WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO: Mentions of Depression (obviously), GN!Reader, sweet Fluff, Viktor has no clue what he's doing in all honesty, he tries (and succeeds) to be sweet

2 Stories - One more casual/not yet dating and the other is established relationship

You've been off lately, Viktor had noticed. Isolating yourself bit by bit, looking more tired and overall acting just weird. You've had your phases before, but this one was too long. It wasn't like you at all. You've barely even spoken to him or Jayce, when usually you'd yap both their ears off about whatever topic you had learned about the previous night. Now, the lab was silent. Jayce was away on some Council party, and god knows Viktor would never start a conversation on his own while working. Though, he couldn't focus tonight. He mindlessly tinkered with small parts that laid around his desk, his thoughts clouded with the question of what was bothering you. Whatever it was, it bothered him as well. He'd never say, but he missed the cheery and chipper way you'd usually be.

"Are you... alright?" He questions after a while, clearing his throat slightly. This was already too awkward for him, but he did care. Totally just because the atmosphere of the lab would suffer if you weren't your usual self. He noticed the way you shifted uncomfortably as he glanced over to where you were sitting, like you were pondering how to answer. He wondered why you'd need so long to think of an answer, as if you couldn't tell him the truth. "I'm fine. Just a little tired, I just haven't been sleeping well." You answer, a soft, akward chuckle slipping from your lips. Viktor doesn't like that answer. You're different from how you are when you're just tired - not that he actually paid attention to that, but you weren't on your fifth cup of coffee yet. Actually, you hadn't had coffee at all today, another unusual happening. He sighs softly, and you immediatly know that he's gotten into questioning mode - he was a scientist after all. He really couldn't help it. "You can talk to me, you know? We don't have to be lab partners and nothing else, we can be friends." He speaks, his voice softer than before. "What's bothering you, hm?" Viktor adds, turning his chair around to look at you properly. It's your turn to sigh, letting your head hang slightly. "I've just been... feeling off. Like, actually tired but in a mental way? I don't know how to explain." You mutter, awkwardly averting your gaze from him. "We should take a day off, then. Do whatever you want instead of working." Viktor answers casually. "I don't want to miss important stuff in the lab Viktor, I can't take a day off." You throw back at him. He huffs, a slight chuckle filling the room. "Not you. Us. Maybe all three, if Jayce is willing." He clarifies, already noting it down in his notebook to make sure that day off actually happens.

Viktor noticed the moment he woke up next to you. You'd fallen into another slump. He could tell just by the way you didn't just not want to get up - it was a physical challenge for you. He's seen you like this before, though usually it didn't last too long, at least not that he's noticed, maybe only a day or two at most. But by now, it's been almost a week, and you haven't spoken to him about it. You've been more abrasive, have started caring less about your personal hygiene, and while Viktor doesn't mind, he always hated when you didn't take proper care of yourself. He wanted you to feel good, not fall into a depressive hole. He offered to take a shower or bath with you, to make a game out of brushing your teeth, but you had shut everything down. It wasn't because you didn't think the ideas were sweet, but more because you didn't think you even deserved that much effort. Viktor had to helplessly watch you get worse, and he couldn't even do anything to properly help. It was absolute hell to him.

He'd had enough, wanted to be mad at you, even, but he couldn't blame you for it. He could, however, force you to stay cuddled up in bed with him. You liked staying in bed anyway, and cuddling with him was always one of your favourites. So, here you two were, snuggled into the covers of Viktors way too confortable bed. "You know that I love you, right?" Viktor mumbled, his accent more heavy with sleep. He didn't say it enough, at least that's what he thought. "I do know..." you answered, just as sleepily. "I know you can't control this.. but let me help you, please? I know it's hard, trust me I do, but I hate having to watch from the sidelines as you get worse..." He sighs, pressing a kiss against your forehead. "Let me just be there for you, yeah, my dear?" Viktor adds, pulling away slightly to look at you. "Alright.. I'll... I'll try, I promise." You answer, scooting back towards him so you could press your face into the crook of his neck, basking in his warmth for a little longer.

[anemptypuddingcup]

Love-Bombing.

Corazón (Rosinante Donquixote) x Female Reader.

I’ve been working on this for a good long while and I wanted to post it not only because I enjoyed writing Corazon’s personality but because I wanted to practice a bittersweet story. Writing dark stories kinda helps me practice and also makes it easier to write them the more I do, even if I shrivel up like a balloon while I do it.

Contains: SOMEWHAT UNCOMFORTABLE THEMES AHEAD! Use of sign language (Headcanon). Corazon is mute for the majority of this fic. An obsessive Corazón. Just about Corazón rushing a wanted relationship. Corazón and Reader are neighbors. Reader just recently moved in. Reader loves to cook. Reader and Corazón having a healthy relationship as neighbors. Corazón rushing their relationship a bit. Law makes an appearance. Mentions of Law being Corazón’s adoptive son. Non-consensual to consensual touching. Corazón breaking into Reader’s home. Dub-Con. Size difference kink. Oral & Fingering. Next part will contain…Y’know. This fic is a very long and also has a bit of time-skipping.

Corazón was sitting in the living room, his fingers softly pulling down the blinds as he stared out of the window observantly. He was paying attention, looking out for something…or rather someone.

A beautiful woman had just moved into the neighborhood a few weeks ago and boy could Corazón have not been more happier.

Ever since this beautiful woman has moved in, he hasn’t done anything else but stare out through his window, waiting for her to step outside for a bit or sit on her porch.

As he watched and waited patiently, the sound of his son’s voice startled him and causes him to gasp out shakily as if he’d just had a heart attack.

“Pops…You keep staring out at her yard…”

Corazón’s eyes widens in shock as he jumps from the sound of Law’s voice behind him, his hand nearly tearing the blinds before he quickly fixed them back up and whipped his head around. He looks down and see’s his adoptive son’s worrisome eyes staring up at him. His arms were crossed as he’d just witnessed and grew disappointed in his adoptive father’s distasteful behavior.

“L-Law!-“

“If you like her so much, why don’t you just talk to her more? It’s weird to just…watch you stare at her porch all day…” Law asked, patting him on the back while Corazón sighs out nervously. Corazón pouted and looked away before pulling his turtleneck up a bit more in slight shame.

“I’m a bit nervous to speak to her. She did just move into the neighborhood…Maybe she doesn’t want to be bothered…or pestered by my persistence..” Corazón admitted, asking himself if you’d be annoyed by his behavior. Law huffs out irritably and scratched at his raven strands before patting at his father’s back.

“I’m sure she’d be happy to talk to you since she’s new around here. It wouldn’t hurt to try and speak to her a bit more…” Law sighed to himself, his hand slowly lifting up off of Corazón’s back before he began leaving the living room. Corazón watched as his son leaves the living room before continuing to peek out the window, his eyes widening in sudden delight as he watched your beautiful figure step out onto your front porch.

You had brought a beautiful pot full of azalea flowers out onto your porch before you began watering them. Watching you water the flowers out on your porch made Corazon’s heart skip a beat. How could he speak to a beautiful woman like you when he himself was a clumsy loser?

He felt as if you both were on different levels and him putting you on such a high pedestal was exactly what brought his himself down even more.

He’s only spoken to you once or twice since you’ve moved into the neighborhood, but he pressured himself to speak more regardless if he was so nervous to. Law always told him to make a good impression for himself around the neighborhood, but he’s never spoken to anyone else but you.

Maybe his body was attracted to you the moment he saw you. That pretty smile and adoring demeanor is exactly what brought him out of that hard shell of his. All he could really do is hope that he could possibly speak to you again or even more in the future.

Your moving frame suddenly pulled him from his negative thoughts, his eyes squinting as he noticed you holding a glass pan in your hands.

It looked as if…you were walking over to his home, his eyes trailing across as he followed your frame.

You continued down the sidewalk and turned down to his driveway, the sight of your frame growing closer and closer to his front porch.

She’s coming over!?

And with sweets too!?

Corazón immediately begins panicking out of nervousness and a sudden shriek left his lips as he slips a bit along the floor, his hands accidentally tearing the blinds before he falls down onto his back a bit hard.

“Owww…” He groans out to himself and reaches his hand down towards his back before rubbing in slight discomfort. A knock at his front door causes his eyes to shoot open and his body to freeze up in place.

“Hello? Anyone home? I have some brownies to share!”

Hearing your voice on the other side of the door immediately causes Corazón’s face to flush and he quickly shot up to his feet before rushing to the front door. He swallowed thickly before his hand grabbed at his doorknob, his other hand unlocking the top lock before he’d steadily began to crack the door open.

You watched as nervous eyes peeked through the crack of the door before trailing down your figure and back up to your face.

“Corazón? Is that you?” You asked all sweetly, your hand still holding that glass tray which was full of those brownies that you’d mentioned. Corazón huffs out shakily before steadily opening the door for you, his eyes looking down at your smaller frame while you smiled up to him.

“It is you! Good afternoon, Corazón! I hope you don’t mind but…I was baking some brownies and ended up baking too much for myself. So, I thought I’d give the rest to you…if you want them.”

Your sweet words and loving tone made Corazón’s heart pump with anxious, and his vision grew a bit blurred as if he were about to faint any second now. He shakes off the feeling and smiles before nodding to you, his hand taking the brownies from you while your face began to flush.

“I-I hope you enjoy them! If you’d like anymore again then, just let me know!” Your hand reaches up to your warm cheek and you begin to watch as Corazón opens the tray before he’d take a brownie from the it. He takes a big bite and chews softly, tasting all of the fudgy flavors that melted in his mouth. He himself out softly in delight, his taste buds adoring the taste of the sweet treat.

He nods profusely as he continues to chew and you looked down in nervousness as you listen to him finish up his brownie. Corazón reaches a hand down to your temple and pats it softly, your eyes widening before you looked up into his sweet little eyes. His lips were slightly covered in chocolate which causes you to let out a little snicker while he smiled nervously.

“I’m…I’m happy you love them! Please, come by my home any time and I’ll promise to have something ready. I…do enjoy cooking for my family and friends.”

Corazón freezes as he heard you mouth those words and he watches as you begin to step down off of his porch. You waved to him and walked all the way out of his yard, his eyes following your body as he watched you walk back over to your home.

Corazón stayed watching you as his heart pounded out of his chest, his body and growing breathless and his mind infatuated on the mesmerizing sight of you walking back to your home. As your small frame faded from his keen sight, he blinks a few times before looking back down to the glass tray in his large hands.

Corazón’s eyes softens and he smiles while continuing to look down at the brownies before steadily stepping back into his home, his hand closing the door behind himself. He twists the top lock before he sets himself down on the couch, his hand reaching for another brownie before he popped a bite into his mouth.

Your baking was filled with as much love as he had for you, if only you had knew how much he love and feelings shared...

He couldn’t help himself but to eat another brownie…

And another…

And…another…

Corazón ate mindlessly at the brownies, unable to stop and neither contain himself from the thought of eating your beloved cooking.

It was too good…and he couldn’t stop…

The pan was nearly empty, and he’d finally stopped at he looked down at the pan in slight shock.

He ate all of that…? Already…?

…

You stood at the stove and rocked your hips to the tempo as music blasted out of your radio, your voice humming along to the lyrics as you cooked at some breakfast all excitedly. You had already cooked more than enough for yourself, but of course you wanted to cook more just in case if a certain guest decided welcome himself over to knock on your door.

Your next-door neighbor happened to be the most friendliest one out of everyone in the neighborhood. The two of you had ended up taking a liking to each other after meeting for the first time which happened to be a few months ago after you moved into the neighborhood. It was as if…you both just clicked immediately, which wasn’t a bad thing at all.

It honestly made you more feel more welcomed and more comfortable.

The sound of your doorbell ringing causes you to crack a wide smile as you slide the last pancakes off of your skillet and onto a plate of other fresh pancakes. You quickly washed your hands and rushed out of your kitchen, the doorbell ringing once again as you quickly ran into your tidy living room. You swiftly opened your door and look up to see your neighbor, Corazón, staring back at you with those adorable doe eyes of his.

An ecstatic smile spread across his face as your face immediately lightens up at the sight of him, his hand lifting up before waving to you while you giggled all nervously. “Good morning, Corazón!” You greeted him, your hands brushing down at your apron while he hummed warmheartedly in response to the sound of your adorable voice.

‘Good morning!’ He signed, his greeting making you smile even more before you’d grab his large hand. “Please, come in! I’ve made enough breakfast for you to eat this time since you always come so early.” Your tone grew a bit higher as you grew flustered from Corazón tall stature, your body feeling as if you were expressing yourself a bit too much to Corazón.

You watched as Corazón ducked his head down before stepping inside of your home, his body so much taller than yours could ever be. You gulped as you stared up at him before turning away, a shaky exhale leaving your lips while Corazón tilted his head and quirked a brow.

“Come, my kitchen is this way…”

Corazón followed you throughout your home as you guided him into your clean kitchen, the fresh aroma of maple syrup and bacon filling his nose as his eyes met the all of the breakfast you cooked for him. His stomach growls at the sudden smell of fresh hot food and you giggled as held a porcelain plate up to him. He lifts his hands to sign to you once again and you wait for him as he did.

‘Isn’t this a bit too much? I wouldn’t want you cooking too much just for me…’ He signed, expressing both his gratitude but also his worries as he looks away all shyly. You placed the plate in his large hands before handing him a fork. “It’s fine, really. I know you have a hearty appetite to match.“ You replied, your hands reaching behind your back before you’d untie your apron and hung it up on your coat-hanger on your wall.

Corazón held his plate up to his face and watched as you grabbed yourself a plate from the dish dryer rack before proceeding to place one of everything on your plate. You grabbed a few extra pancakes and look up to Corazón while standing in place, watching as he grabbed a few breakfast items while you waited for him.

Once he grabs enough for himself, he walks over to the kitchen table and takes a seat. You followed behind and sat down beside him, your head bowing as you prayed over your breakfast before looking down at your plate. You look over to Corazón who was already eating, a hungry hum leaving him as he immediately began eating at the sausages on his plate.

Corazón huffs out in satisfaction, tasting every bit of love and energy that you put in the breakfast in each bite he took. Your eyes focused on his expressions, observing at what he’d like the most and what he’d like the least. He blinks before glancing over to you, his eyes causing you to quickly look away before your face began to flush.

You hoped he didn’t notice your bothersome staring…but he did. Though, he found it to be more flattering than anything else.

You look down at your plate and realized that you forgot both the maple syrup for your pancakes and a fork for eating. You chucked nervously and looked up at Corazón, who happened to be returning the interested stares back to you. You blushed before looking down at your plate again.

“You can always get seconds whenever you’d like.” You tell him, your frame slowly standing up from your chair before you’d went and grabbed the maple syrup off the kitchen counter. Corazón nodded and continued eating his food, his mind melting at the flavors of your cooking that coated his tongue all evenly yet delightfully.

You grabbed yourself a fork and grabbed a knives for the two of you before grabbing the bottle of maple syrup. You brought everything back to the table and walked away front the table once again. “Would you like some orange juice as well?” You asked him, your eyes watching as he turns to you and nods in response.

You opened your cupboard and grabbed two cups before placing them on the counter. You opened your fridge and dug through it for the orange juice, your hands pushing through sandwich meat and packaged foods before you finally found the carton.

You grabbed the carton out of the fridge and closed the fridge door, your hand grabbing the cups as you poured a bit of juice in them one by one. You grabbed the cups and walk back to the table before finally taking your seat, your eyes glancing down towards Corazón’s plate which happened to already be half eaten.

“Sorry about that…I’m not getting back up now.” You responded, your hand grabbing your fork before you began eating your scrambled eggs. Corozón gave you an adoring smile as he continued eating, his hand grabbing the maple syrup as he popped the top open.

…

‘Sorry if that I ate a bit much…’ He signed to you, his face shifting into a pout as he began to feel bad that you’ve cooked so much for him. You chuckled in response and waved him off.

“It’s no problem, Corazón. I always have enough for us both or even more.” You reassured him, a soft huff leaving him as you

You rubbed at Corazón’s shoulder to comfort him, continuously telling him that eating too much was perfectly fine especially for his size.

He smiled at your kindheartedness…and then it slowly grew silent and more comforting rather than awkward.

“…Did I cook everything well enough? I-If I didn’t, I can always try again and do better!” You stammered, your hand taking his perfectly clean plate and placing it on top of your own which was also clean. Corazón grabs your hands softly, causing you to stop and slowly look up at him with anxious eyes.

He stares blankly into your pretty eyes, his stare hiding his strong love behind it while you blinked a bit. He smiles and lowers his head, his lips peppering a loving smooch to your hands while a soft sigh leaving his lips as he did. Your face flared up in slight excitement and it flushed as you watched him lift his head, his lips curling into a sweet smile.

You watched as he softly wrapped his strong arms around your smaller frame, a surprised gasp leaving your lips as he hugged you delicately yet so tenderly. You shuddered within his arms in delight, your face burning a deep shade of scarlet while your sparkles began to appear within your eyes.

You softly wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him back while he begins to smile all erotically at the feeling of your touch. “I’m glad y-you liked it so much…” You sighed softly, your lips curling up into an adoring smile as you rubbed at his upper back. You both sat there for a moment embracing each other for a few minutes, the two of you enjoying each other’s warmth in the silence of your kitchen. A soft sight leaves your lips as you finally pulled away from his embrace, your eyes trailing up and looking into his.

Staring into his eyes for so long slowly causes your stomach to grow butterflies, making you turn your head away from him before pressing your hand against your cheek. You hesitated to speak and Corazón tilted his head in question as if he was wondering as if you had something to say.

“W-Would you like to go in the living room. I-I know my kitchen chairs and be a bit small and uncomfy for you…”

Corazón smiles and immediately nods before shooting up from his seat in excitement, his hand softly pulling your seat back from the table before he helps you up out of your chair. You blushed at his sweet gesture as you grabbed the two porcelain plates off of the dining table, your eyes watching as Corazón ducks his head while he walks through the doorway while he walks into the living room.

You walk over to your sink and softly slide the porcelain plates into the sink full of soapy dishwater before leaving them to soak. You walk through the doorway and see Corazón sitting on your couch, his eyes sharply staring down at his hands as he waited patiently for you to sit down beside him. You smiled and walk past him before setting yourself down beside his larger frame, his eyes looking down at your body seductively while you sat there playing at the hem of your blouse.

Before you could even utter another word past your lips, Corazón sneakily slide his large hand over your thigh. His sudden physical contact causes you freeze in place while your face begins to burn up. Your eyes slowly trailed up to his which happened to be full of love and a hint of lust while he moved in closer to your adorably flustered face. You could feel his hand sliding up higher and you felt your heart beginning to pound out of your chest while your body sat there…frozen.

“Ah…C-Corazón…” You gasp out a bit fearfully as your face begins to twist and brows began to furl, your body a bit bothered that Corazón was beginning to rush the process of his affection and yours. His hand softly grasps your chin and he smiles all sweetly before moving his face in closer to yours.

So pretty…How could he think to miss this only opportunity he had for himself to confess his feelings or at least make it known.

He pressed his lips against yours, causing a sudden moan to erupt from his throat while your eyes widened in sudden fear. “Mmh- M-Mhh!” Your body immediately goes into panic mode and you began to squirm uncomfortably while you felt Corazón trying to allow his tongue past your lips.

Your hand reached down towards his hand that rested at your thigh and you gripped it tightly before you’d hurriedly pull away from his lips. You exhaled shakily as you stare up into his eyes, his head tilting in question as if he was trying to figure out why you looked so…pale.

Didn’t you feel the same way?

“A-Ah…Cora…” You call out to him shakily, your hand holding his larger one before you lifted it off of your thigh. Corazón brows twisted into a look of slight sadness and he turns away from you, realizing that maybe you didn’t the same way and that he may have just made a rather terrible mistake.

You shook off the feeling of unease and hid it with a smile as you stared up at him, your arms slowly wrapping around his larger frame. “I-It’s okay…Let’s just…Let’s not rush things…alright?” You tell him, looking up into his eyes with slight concern while he stared down at you with a rather fearful expression on his face.

Corazón pulled away from you, his body scooting away from your smaller frame all together as he…genuinely felt sorry for kinda rushing things.

Though he didn’t know how to express them…At least not well enough.

‘Sorry…I’m so sorry-‘ He signed to you, his hand pressing over his mouth as he turned away from you.

“It’s okay, really! I know how much we express a passion for each other…but…may we go at it slowly…please…?”

Corazón stared back at you blankly as he listened to your words.

“I…I like you too Corazón…I really do. I just want to take my time with this though…at least go at a slow and soft pace, Y’know?” You confessed to him but putting your foot down gently in the process, hoping he would get the message and respect your boundaries and give you time.

Corazón’s eyes glistened as if he was seeing a diamond in the light, at least he finally knew that you shared the same feelings for him. He looks away as his hand begins to play at his sweater, his throat swallowing thickly before he’d finally decided to speak to you for the first time.

“Y…Yes. I…understand. Sorry…” He said in such a gentle and quiet voice, his voice suddenly catching you off guard as you heard it for the first time. Your eyes widened in shock as you lifted your head up to him, his hands covering his face as he looked down. His face burned a deep shade of red as he spilled out his voice to you.

“C-Cora…”

Your face slowly began to burn up from how attractive he sounded. Honestly…

His soft tone and the way he executed his sentence, it was just…so cute.

It was so unexpected…Hearing him speak for the first time…Then he spoke again, this time slightly more fluently than the last sentence.

“May…May I ask…Would…it be okay to…at least touch you…here and there…?”

His question caused you to stiffen and you hum out slightly, your eyes looking down as he asked you that question. You blinked before looking away, your hand pressing against your cheek as you sat there and thought to yourself…

He did ask…after touching you without your acknowledgment…but…It was still…a slightly uncomfortable situation.

Though, you didn’t even want to deny him after he went through the trouble to speak to you…

So you obliged and gave him permission.

You placed your hand against his, the skin at the top of his hand soft as you ran your palm along it.

“Y-Yeah, y-you can…” You accepted, your hand grabbing his larger one before you rubbed your thumb along the soft skin of his hand. He sighs out shakily and ran his fingers along your smaller palm before intertwining his fingers with yours all together, his large fingers overlapping over your smaller hand. He rests his head against yours, his eyes looking down at your smaller frame while his hand continues to grab at soft and plushness of your thigh.

‘So cute…and so soft…’ He thought to himself, watching as you squirmed at his touch while you soft whimpers left your throat.

You couldn’t help but to feel uncomfortable. You weren’t ready to move this quickly with Corazón, yet nothing came out when you wanted him to stop since you knew this is what he wanted.

You were hoping to take your time with him, to get to know him even more before you’d get to this point. Though…It couldn’t be helped…Not when you knew that Corazón preferred to show rather than to tell since he was mute.

While you were deep in your thoughts, Corazón peeled his hand away from your thigh and ultimately lets go of your hand. His sudden movements caused you to look up at him and he smiled before pulling away from you. You watched as he stood up from the couch, your body wanted to reach out yet feeling constricted to do so.

“Corazón?” You called out to him, your face giving him a slight pout as you grew a bit upset to see him go.

He lifts his hands and blinks softly, your eyes focusing as you realized that he was about to sign again.

‘I hate to leave so soon but…I’ve got errands to run…’

His hands signed his sentence before he lowered them down, his arms opening out to you as if he wanted a hug. You smiled softly and slowly stood up from your couch before falling into his embrace, your body relieved but your mind saddened to see him go so soon.

“I’ll…see you tomorrow. Mi Amor…”

Your body shudders at his voice as he called you those words, your hands clenching on to his shirt tightly as if you really…really didn’t want him to leave. You sighed out at your mind’s indecisiveness and felt as his arms slowly loosened up and pulled away from your frame.

“Be safe…” You say to him softly, his head nodding in response to you while you as he rubbed his hands along your back. You slowly pulled out of his embrace and he waves before walking out of the front door, his hand locking the bottom lock on the doorknob on his way out.

You stood there still for a moment before exhaling shakily, your body falling back onto the soft cushions of your couch before you slowly sunk deeper into them. The cushions nestled your body as you sat there in silence, your body and mind reflecting on what had just happened moments ago. Corazón obviously liked you…but disrespected your personal space.

Part of you wanted to give him another chance…while another part thought that you should just stop talking to him. You didn’t want to, you really didn’t…yet you knew what he did was wrong. You hum to yourself and turn over on your couch, your couch cushions cradling your body as you rested there in the returning peace and quiet of your own home.

A heavy sigh spilled from your lips as you slowly stood back up and walked back into your kitchen, your mind deciding to clean up to keep itself occupied from what had just occurred.

… (Bonus scene??)

Law sighed out heavily as he slowly inserted his house key into the keyhole of the doorknob, his hand twisting the knob before he’d let himself in and pulled the key out of the knob. The entirety of the house was dark and nothing but silence filled the empty house as Law slowly looked around in the slight darkness.

He flips the light switch on that connected to the living room, the bright light burning his eyes slightly as he lifted his arm in slight reflex which provided slight shade to him. Law throws his work bag onto the floor and slowly stumbling into the kitchen, his stomach growling as he groaned from the hunger whcih cased his stomach to eat away at itself.

“Pops? Ya home?” Law called out into the empty house, his voice echoing throughout the house for a few seconds after he called out for Corazón. A heavy sigh leaves his lips as he stood there alone in the kitchen, his stomach growling once again as it yearned for food to feed and fill it.

He fell deep in his thoughts for a moment, his pockets empty with nothing but crumpled paper and lint while his back barely had any change left in it. As he stood there in his thoughts, he pressed as hand to his chin as he slowly began remembering his adoptive father’s words about food.

“If you ever get hungry and have no money, just go to our neighbors house. She loves to cook and to told me that I’m free to come or invite anyone who’s hungry here at home…”

“Ms.________’s house yeah? It’d be worth a shot.” He said to himself, his feet turning him around before he walked back through the front door. He made sure to lock it behind himself before he’d shut the door and settled on walking to your own home next door.

Law was very skeptical. Not only because he didn’t know you well, but because he had never been over to your home before. Even if you seemed more friendly than ever, he didn’t know how you acted when it came to things like this. Though on a hungry stomach, he’d rather risk it than sit in his home starving while his stomach swallowed itself.

As he walked over into your yard, he slowly crept up along your front porch, his boots clacking against the wooden planks of the porch as he nervously walked up to your front door. He lifts his hand but immediately pulls back, hesitating as he began to have second thoughts.

Just wing it Law…

He lowered his knuckles repeatedly against the wood of your door, swallowing a gulp as he grew anxious for who was on the other side.

…

A knock to your door pulls you from your television and you grab the remote before turning down the TV. You stood up off of your couch and walked over to the door, your hand unlocking the bottom lock before you opened it. You look up and were immediately met with drained golden eyes staring back down at you. You fluttered your eyes a bit before tilting your head, your hand gripping the doorknob as you stared at the young man for a few seconds.

“H-Hello…May I help you?” You asked, wondering what exactly this stranger was doing on your front porch. The young man scratched at his temple before sighing out to himself. He didn’t necessarily want to bother you, but as someone who sought out something he needed, he had to ask.

“Sorry to bother you…We haven’t met before…I’m Corazón’s son, Trafalgar D. Water Law.” He introduced himself, your eyes lighting up as soon as he’d mention Corazón’s name. Your eyes widens and sparkles in delight and interest at Law’s response.

“Oh! I wasn’t aware of him having a son! I’m so happy to finally meet you then!” You exclaimed in excitement, your hand pulling the door open even wider to let him in.

“Come in! Come in! Make yourself comfortable!”

“A-Ah- I didn’t say exactly what I wanted yet-“

“It’s fine! You can explain it to me inside! It’s getting chilly out here anyways and we don’t want you getting sick.”

Law huffs out and reluctantly walks inside of your home, listening as you closed the door behind him before he’d steadily set himself down on your couch. You immediately begin walking over to the doorway of the kitchen, your eyes peeking over to Law who had his arms and legs crossed so politely.

“Can I get you anything? Tea? Cookies maybe?” You asked, already wanting to provide hospitality towards Law. Law’s eyes widens in surprise to your kind nature and he looks down before clearing his throat.

“Actually…That’s what I wanted to talk about…”

You stood there and patiently waited for him to continue speaking, your smile not moving an inch as you happily listened to him.

“My dad said that you liked cooking…and he said that I was welcomed to come over if I was ever hungry…Is…Is that true?” He asked you, his hand tilting his hat down even more as he tried his best to avert his eyes from you. You smiled wider and nodded in response to his question, your sweet demeanor slowly calming Law down to where he could get a little comfortable.

“Y-Yeah! That’s right! I told Corazón that he could come by any time for something to eat. Though since I’m just now finding out that he has a son, you’re absolutely welcomed into my home!”

You words makes a soft smile appear across Law’s face and he huffs out happily as he stared down at his spotted jeans. His growling stomach cuts your conversation short and it alerts both you and himself.

“S-Sorry-“

“Hungry aren’t you? What is it that you wanted by the way?”

“W-Well…We don’t have much at home so…I was wondering if you had anything I could eat anything you had…If it’s too much then I can just go back home-“

“Nonsense! Of course I have something for you to eat! I just cooked pasta not too long ago for dinner! It’s still fresh if you’d like some!” Your words had cut off Law and your excited tone startled him a bit. Hearing you speak so enthusiastically about feeding some stranger honestly made him feel safer around you. You were a genuine kind and gentle woman, someone who probably cared more about the people around herself rather than being selfish.

Law smiles and lifts his head to look up at you, his golden eyes filled with a sense of comfort as he stared into your eyes.

“That…That would be nice…Thank you ma’am…” He thanked you, his eyes watching as you motioned for him to come inside the kitchen.

He obeyed, and immediately got hit with the strong smell of garlic and butter.

“I hope you like Shrimp Alfredo! I made a bit too much so if you want to you can just take some home!”

You watched as Law takes a seat at the dining table, his eyes scanning your tidy kitchen before he’d look back over to your frame. Law watched as you grabbed one of your clean porcelain plates before you began placing a scoop of Shrimp Alfredo onto the plate. You followed up with two slices of garlic bread and turned over to him before bringing him his plate.

The sight of bread immediately made him froze and his face immediately scrunched up in distaste as he saw the two slices of bread on the plate.

You softly set the plate of pasta down onto the dinner table in front of him, the strong aroma of the food already making Law’s mouth water as he grew anticipated to try your food.

Though part of him wanted to push the plate away due to the sight of the bread.

You handed him his silverware before stepping away from the table, your hands grabbing your kettle off of the dish-drying rack before you ran it under the sink’s faucet.

Law shuddered and gulped before groaning out, knowing that he had to eat the bread to be polite. After all, he was the one who asked to eat some of your food. It would be wrong to not at least eat one of the two slices that rested on his plate.

Law lowered his head in defeat as he grabbed his fork, his stomach growling as he stared down at the delicious-looking plate in front of him.

“Thank…Thank you, Miss…” Law said, his eyes looking over to you as he watched you begin to make a fresh pot of tea. You giggled to yourself as you dig around in your cupboard for your tea leaves, your eyes occasionally glancing over to Law as you observed him saying a silent prayer before eating.

“Just call me ________! No need for formalities when your father knows me good and well.”

Law nodded before humming out in delight, his fork giving him a mouthful of pasta before he chewed profusely out of slight hunger. He already adored the flavors that melted in his mouth. While he wanted to avoid the bread, he decided to be respectful and eat a slice. While the bread made him want to spit it out, part of him couldn’t deny that it didn’t taste so bad.

Though that didn’t mean he didn’t want to spit it out.

God, it was super good. You definitely put your foot into the pasta if not your whole leg. It was a plus that he got good-tasting food even though he was looking for something to satiate his hunger.

…

“Thank you so much for the food ________, it was so so good…” Law thanked you once again, his stomach now full of delicious food while his hands held on to a little plastic bowl with a top on it. “Of course Law! I’m happy to feed you and your father any time!” You smiled, your face flushing as you fell rather ecstatic to feed someone full and happy once again.

Law waves and turned around but stops before turning back to you for a moment, it seemed that that’s not all he wanted to say. You tilted your head out to curiosity and watched as Law spoke for a final time.

“My dad…really likes you. I hope…I hope you two can get along well.”

“I know he may be a bit shy at times but…he’s a good guy once you get to know him. Affectionate too...”

You smiled to Law’s words, happy to hear that he thinks sweetly of his father and cares about him.

“I…I honestly hope you two can get together…He really…has a huge crush on you. He just refuses to confess.”

Law’s face suddenly flushed and he quickly turns away before walking down the steps from your porch, his tatted hands clutching on tightly to the bowl of food within his hands. You chuckled as you noticed his flushed face, your eyes focusing on his frame as you stayed to watch him get back home safely.

“Come back anytime! I’m always open to feed you two!” You exclaimed, your hand waving to a flustered Law as you watched him make it back over to his home beside yours.

You slowly stepped back into your home and close the door, your fingers twisting at the bottom lock before you twisted at the top as well. You hummed to yourself as you stood at your front door, buried deep within your thoughts as you found yourself wandering in that brain of yours.

Corazón really did like you…didn’t he?

If that wasn’t obvious enough, Law’s words was definitely enough to convince you that he wanted you as a whole and not just for something you were special at.

Then again, you were still taken back by his disrespectful behavior earlier. Yes, you still loved him. Though sometimes, even actions can push past your genuine love for someone. You sighed out loudly to yourself and shook your feelings away, a yawn now leaving your lips as you fell sleepy.

You slowly drug yourself down the hallway and into your bathroom, your body bending down as you began running hot water into the tub.

Maybe tomorrow, you can forget about it and try again….Yeah.

Maybe you can…

[mlqueen89]

Two | Ego

i took the miracle move on drug the effects were temporary (i love you) it's ruining my life  

Fortnight by Taylor Swift ft. Post Malone | TTPD |  

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin / ofc (top gun: maverick) 

rating: 18+ (minors dni) 

warnings: smut, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of oral (f receiving).    

word count: 9,776 

summary: “if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions.” in which ellie has to deal with the consequences of having the best sex ever with an actual pilot who she actually has to work with. A familiar face makes an appearance to guide ellie through politics at miramar.  

A/N: guys guys guys, you are giving me liiiiife. the reception to the first chapter has been crazy. lots of jake head canon developing here. essentially, i've decided that watermelon sugar by harry styles is jake coded. for... reasons. my guy is all acts of service. 

this one was also beta read by my bestest friend, so this one goes out to jj. love you girl, thanks for reading the smuttiest part of my brain. i also apologize for the amount of taylor swift/pop culture references (srry, not srry). also, the number of videos i watched on F-14s (tomcats) and F-18s (super hornets) is cray.

working my way through the november prompts, slowly but surely! there are a few left, so if you want to request, head on over there.

❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ❥  

Ellie groaned deeply, her face dropping to her hands as she slouched over the kitchen island from her perch on the stool.     

“I sat on his face, Yan,” Ellie mumbled through her fingers, her voice laced with the mortification of the memory from that afternoon. The way Lieutenant Seresin’s eyes passed over her, undressing her, seeing the mark he’d made on her neck and then coolly, calmly, pretending like he wasn’t put off by her presence. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck until it radiated from her cheeks. “Now I have to work with him.”  

Yan, unfazed, was busy bustling around the small kitchen, assembling her version of a “girl dinner,” which currently included an obscene number of jarred olives in a variety of colours, a smattering of mixed Harvest Snaps, Ritz crackers and a chunk of Swiss cheese she didn’t bother slicing. As she pushed herself up on her tip toes to peek into cupboards, her manicured nailed fingers reaching for a box she’d seen near the back of the space, Yan reminded Ellie of the squirrel family that lived under the deck at their old college house.  

“I dunno,” Yan replied with a shrug, nonchalant as ever, giving the box she’d retrieved from the back of the cabinet on top of the fridge a shake. “Maybe he’ll forget?”  

The remainder of her day at Miramar had been filled with facility tours, and security briefings, introductions to ground crew and the radar teams in the tower—the usual M.O. of any other airfield she’d worked on for the past six years. Routine, smooth, reflexive, comforting in its predictability after her unexpected morning.  

To her relief, she didn’t see Lieutenant Seresin again and in part, it was because she hadn’t necessarily been looking for him. Between seeing him again, being caught off-guard, her mind scrambling and having RADM Stark offer her concealer, she’d had her fill of shame and awkward interactions to last the entire week, possibly month.   

When, at the end of the day, Tony let her know that he’d be emailing her in the next hour or so about her office space, she was already thinking about how quickly she could scurry off to her car and peel out of the parking lot.  

Driving home from North Island was completed in a fugue state, doing everything she could to keep her mind off what would happen from now until whenever her contract was over in a few months and the possibility of her putting in for remote work. Canada, Mexico, Iceland… somewhere, anywhere far away from him.  

By the time she tripped through the front door, trudging up the stairs, shoulders sunk low, Ellie was glad Nic wasn’t home. She wasn’t sure she could handle the interrogation surrounding how her first day had gone (terribly) and why she had disappeared from the Halloween party so abruptly last night without saying goodbye. Both discussions would lead to the same, inevitable, infuriatingly handsome, source. Lt. Seresin. A pilot. A mistake. A five-time in one night mistake. 

When she’d instead found Yan in the kitchen, scrounging around in the cupboards, Ellie had offloaded her previous night and the resulting day in what felt like a single sigh, a mass exodus of mismatched thoughts and side drabbles. Disaster, social and career ruin the overarching themes. 

Ellie lifted her head just enough to scoff in her roommate’s general direction. “Forget? He’s a pilot, it’s highly unlikely. Have you ever met a pilot? Those guys have egos the size of the jets they fly. There’s no way he’s going to just forget without some kind of semi-serious head trauma. Unfortunately.”  

Before Yan could respond, mouth opened in what Ellie could only assume would come next, she held up a finger, a footnote to add, “Before you say it: Bradley doesn’t count. He’s a weird… mustachioed outlier.” 

Data couldn’t track the trajectory of Rooster. Ellie had tried and failed many a time—just when she thought she had pegged him, he escaped the pigeonhole with a dogfight level of evasive maneuvering. With a lack of data or evidence, she’d been forced to accept that Rooster was just untraceable. He didn’t fit the mold of the pilots she’d met.  

“Okay, but hear me out, maybe he will forget without a smack to the dome?” Yan tapped her chin as she glanced down at her plate of smorgasbord, as if considering what was missing. “For all we know, this is his usual modus operandi and you’re just another girl in the long line of hook ups?”  

Ellie felt her stomach drop. Long line of hook ups. “Great. That makes me feel so much better.”    

Yan popped a few pitted olives into her mouth and tipped her head, gathering herself for a moment before she spoke again. “Let’s have a choose your own adventure moment: do you want friend or therapist version of Yan Like, do you want advice advice or just to vent?”  

“Are you going to bill me if I say therapist, Yan’s version?”  

“How about we split the difference?” Yan held the absurdly sized chunk of Swiss cheese in a two—handed grip, nibbling at the corner as she leaned across the island. She was never going to get out from under the squirrel family allusion at this rate. “If I was your therapist, I’d say that maybe we should look at how this serves you? What does this embarrassment, feeling it, stewing in it, what does it do for you?”  

Ellie considered for a moment, her forehead slowly coming to rest on the cool quartz countertop as if the answers could be found there.  

How did the embarrassment of working with a man she’d slept with serve her?  

Maybe the root of the mortification was the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about it, about him. The intrusive thoughts, floating around her brain, still, of the man who had undone her so completely, mapped out her body with his mouth, re-wired her brain through life-altering, transcendent orgasm, one chasing another, each cascading into the next like a line of tumbling dominoes.  

Maybe her fluster was tucked behind the idea that he’d dragged sounds from her with his tongue, fingers, filled her in ways she hadn’t realized she’d been empty until he was inside of her, easing his way in as she gasped and moaned. She’d made sounds she could never have imagined making in the presence of another person, sounds she wasn’t even aware she was capable of making.  

The shame was most likely rooted in the fact that she had liked it, enjoyed every moment he’d been on her and inside of her. Touching her, playing her like an instrument, tugging at all the strings that moved her. She’d melted at the way he called her sweetheart and darlin’ in that voice of his, drawl rough and husky, while doing the things he did to her. How eager he’d sounded when he’d asked her what she wanted from him and how he’d nearly read her mind and fulfilled her needs without needing to be told. 

Ellie could only groan in response, the sound muffled into the countertop as she shifted on her stool, clenching her thighs together tightly as a warmth coiled low in her abdomen.  

The embarrassment didn’t serve her, though it did serve to remind her that she had to have her head on straight going forward. This couldn’t happen again, even if it was all she could think about, even if her body was telling her she wanted more. Her control, careful and composed, had to be stronger; it couldn’t happen again—especially not with him, not with a pilot. Maybe if she repeated it enough, hummed it to herself like a mantra, she’d get herself back on the trail leading to the summit that was the culmination of her life’s work. 

Lt. Seresin was her Voldemort. He who shall not be named. Her Darth Vader. Her Hans Gruber. She couldn’t have sex with Voldemort again. Couldn’t risk the Resistance and give herself to the Dark Side. Couldn’t let the terrorists take Nakatomi Tower on Christmas. 

“It doesn’t.” 

“Exactly. I’m not sure what just went through your beautiful noggin’ just now, but next steps: be the badass I know you are. So what? You had a spectacular night—this guy has no idea how lucky he is to tap that.” Ellie wasn’t sure how seriously she would take it if her actual therapist sat across from her and crunched on gherkin pickles, folded between a slice of prosciutto and used tap that to drive home a point. She’d let it slide for Yan. 

“Also, don’t think I don’t see it,” Yan pointed with the Harvest Snap olive hybrid in Ellie’s general direction. “I’m being nice and I’m not even going to touch the fact that you had crazy, wild sex with a guy dressed as a pilot considering your no pilots rule.”  

“In my, very feeble attempt at self-defense: Who dresses as their actual profession on Halloween?”  

“Oh, that’s just Big Dick Energy vibes, El.” Yan smirked, quirking an eyebrow, as if she was waiting for Ellie to confirm if the vibe had basis in reality. When Ellie simply rolled her eyes, Yan continued, “let’s be real though—we’re in San Diego. You could probably throw a stone and hit a minimum of three pilots in a five-foot radius.” 

Ellie propped her elbow up on the counter, resting her head in her hand, her eyes scanning the swirled pattern in the quartz to the right of Yan’s paper plate. “So, just like that? I just, what? Duplicate the BDE?” 

“More like mirror it. Sometimes that’s all it takes,” Yan nodded, using a Harvest Snap to spear an olive. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, so I won’t, but if I could talk about it, I’d say that I have a client who is an author, who shall remain anonymous, and he uses this crazy, hostage negotiation tactic when he wants to disarm and redirect.” 

Hostage negotiation. Great. This is what is had come to. 

Yan was right. Ellie couldn’t honestly say she was thinking straight when he’d looked at her with his green eyes and easy grin, the level of confidence with which he carried himself so goddamned attractive. She definitely hadn’t been thinking with the prefrontal cortex part of her brain when he’d touched her waist and leaned in close. 

Ellie levelled Yan with a narrowed gaze. “What would friend Yan say?”  

“As your friend who has witnessed some spectacular mistakes in your romantic track record, I’d say,” Yan paused for a moment, considering, Ellie thought, on how she might soften the therapist speak, “so what? You hooked up with him. Big deal. You didn’t know he was a real pilot. It was Halloween. You thought, reasonably, that he wasn’t. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s not like you have to work directly with him, right?” 

“Except I actually do.” Ellie sighed—she'd already thought about it on the drive home, if avoidance was a viable tactic for the next little while. “I’m the one with the new tech, remember? That means seeing him all the time. He’s part of the team they’ve recalled—he’s one of the best the Navy has to offer. He might need to test my tech if I have any hope of getting it off the ground.”  

Yan paused, mid bite of her cracker, processing for a moment in silence. “Okay. First—love the pun. Second, yeah, that sucks, but maybe he’s, like, cool? Like, he hasn’t been a complete ass about it yet, right?” 

“He pretended like he didn’t even know me,” Ellie muttered, crossing her arms as the memory of his infuriating smugness resurfaced, the way his eyes found the mark he’d made on her like she was his. The way she, for a fraction of a second, let him suck all the air out of the space between them. “Which, I guess is fair, since we didn’t exactly exchange names before....”  

“... before he fucked your brains out?” Yan offered, snapping a piece of Ritz cracker off between her teeth, nonchalantly, as if fucked your brains out was a normal, everyday, part of conversations she engaged in.  

Ellie balled up a nearby tea towel and threw it at Yan as hard as she could manage, and it fell woefully short on the island between them. 

“Okay, so, he’s trying to be professional. That’s not necessarily a bad thing?” Yan turned her back to Ellie for a moment, heading to the fridge to grab the jug of pink lemonade from the fridge before she turned and poured it into a cup that sat on the edge of the sink. 

Ellie shook her head as Yan shook the juice jug in her direction. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just—weird? I don’t know how to act around him now.” 

“Oh girl, act like it didn’t happen, obviously. We both know you’re the queen of compartmentalizing, right?” 

Ellie sighed, sweeping her hair back, unconsciously touching the concealer hidden hickey, feather-light. “This is going to be a bit harder though. I just wasn’t planning on hooking up with someone I’d have to see every day.” 

Yan propped her elbows up on the counter across from Ellie before she carefully slid the plate of crackers, olives, cheese and mini pickles toward her with a grin. “Well, welcome to what we true believers call the Frequency Illusion. You’ll see him for as long as he’s front and center in your noodle. Simple explanation. Either that or you have some karmic balance to restore.” 

Ellie sighed, a sigh that sounded more like a drawn-out lament. “You make it sound like a go around kicking puppies.” 

“As my grandma used to say—God rest her soul—” Yan continued, hearing Ellie’s comment about karmic retribution, and traced a cross over her body, turning her eyes upward for a moment before she mocked pouring one out, “pussy rules the world. You set the tone. Own it. Be confident. If someone is going to squirm, let it be him. You’re holding all the cards.” 

“Set the tone?” Ellie repeated, slowly, considering. She didn’t bother to ask why Yan’s grandma, an unassuming small-statured, Filipino lady, obsessed with backgammon and finding the freshest cinnamon scones up until the very day of her passing, would have come to such a firm stance on pussy and its power level. 

“Yeah,” Yan was around the island now, fluffing Ellie’s hair and fixing the collar on her blazer, “you’re the fucking gorgeous, brainy radar engineer. He’s just some dude who got lucky on Halloween.” 

Ellie shrugged, avoiding eye—contact with Yan. “Maybe you’re right.” 

Yan leaned forward to tap Ellie on the tip of the nose, evidently satisfied with herself. “I’m always right, girly pop.” 

“Oh, is that right, huh?” Ellie swatted at Yan as she danced away, skip-hopping over to the fridge.   

Yan grinned, piling more olives onto her plate. “You know it. Now, eat some olives and get your game face on. Tomorrow’s another day, and you’re not letting some hotshot flyboy get the better of you. Even if he’s gorgeous and a generous partner.”  

Ellie shook her head, but she picked up a cracker as Yan tapped the plate before migrating to the living room. “God, this is a mess.”  

“Eh,” Yan shrugged, dropping to the couch and patting the empty spot beside her as she nestled under an oversized blanket. “Messy is more fun. Let’s watch Love is Blind Brazil, there’s apparently this super unhinged guy, Evandro who picked this girl, Ariela, who clearly isn’t over her ex—” 

“Speaking of,” Ellie crossed the room and dropped to the couch beside Yan, tugging some of the blanket over for herself. “What happened to Frankenstein?” 

“Oh, turns out he couldn’t keep it together,” Yan didn’t bother to look at Ellie, waving the remote at the TV as she scrolled, her lips quirked up in the corners into a smirk, “needed someone with a bit more heart.” 

“You’re so ridiculous.” 

Naval Air Station Lemoore, California - 2004 

Even after hours, the Californian sun sinking low on the horizon, Lemoore Naval Air Base was alive with a low hum of activity. F-14 Tomcats rested, wings folded in against their bodies, on the tarmac like sleeping giants, the lights from nearby hangars casting long shadows across the hot asphalt. 

She’d woken from another nightmare. It was always the same, a nightmare in which her dad didn’t come home, his plane screaming through the perfect blue sky one moment and then whistling to the surface of the azure water below, no ejection seat, no parachute. Just churning waves as they swallowed the body of the grey metal, silently, until there was nothing left. 

It was why, at 8:45 PM on a hot fall Californian evening, she found herself in her Justice League pajamas, shoes tied haphazardly, sneaking around the base. 

“Dad, we’re not supposed to be here,” Ellie whispered, her eyes wide as she hustled across the airfield, her small, seven-year-old hand clenching her father’s as he snuck from corner to corner, aircraft to aircraft. Stealth mode he’d called it. In her chest, Ellie’s heart pounded, the excitement mixed with the mischievousness of it all.  

Rick “Hollywood” Neven grinned, a roguish glint in his eyes as he glanced down at her by his side. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I know the boss.” He offered her a sly wink and Ellie could feel the anxiety ebb away slightly. She trusted him, always had. He was her dad, after all—the coolest person in the world.  

Slipping through the open hangar bay doors, Ellie’s eyes focused on the jet parked up in the center of the building. The one she’d only ever seen from a distance, her fingers laced through the chain link fence, her mom at her back, as the engines fired to life and her dad took to the air. Now, larger than life, it was here, looming large over her tiny frame. Ellie’s breath caught as her dad led her closer, the heavy scent of engine oil and metal filling her nostrils. Ground crew engineers milled about, running through their checks, but none of them stopped or questioned her dad. He was a legend here, and everyone knew it. Everyone knew him. 

Rick nodded at one of the crew members, and they moved aside as he led Ellie closer to the jet. “Come on, squirt,” he whispered, lifting her up to stand on a ladder beside the plane’s body. “Want to see where the magic happens?”  

Ellie’s eyes widened as she gazed at the jet’s gleaming surface. “This is your plane?”  

“All mine,” he said proudly, patting the side of the jet, his hand passing over his name Lt. Rick Neven and call sign, Hollywood, painted on the side just below the seam where the bonnet would connect. On the body, beside the rear seat, Lt. Leonard Wolfe, Wolfman was painted in white, his RIO.  

As she stared, wide-eyed, taking it all in, he pointed to different parts, explaining each with ease of someone who had lived and breathed this life for years, someone who could identify this machine as an extension of his own body. “That’s the engine, and those are the intakes. That right there is the radar, it’s here, in the nose too—probably the most important thing in the whole bird.”  

Ellie’s eyes scanned the instruments inside the cockpit, levers and buttons, throttles and sparkplugs. “Why?” Her face scrunched in thought.  

“Because without it, I wouldn’t know what’s coming my way. You see, when you’re flying up there, things happen fast. You need to know everything around you—what’s out there, who’s out there.” He turned, giving her a proud smile. “That’s where a good radar tech comes in. But the best radar tech?” He winked. “They’re sitting right behind the pilot.”  

“Like the RIO?” she asked, her voice full of wonder, eyes trained on her godfather’s name.  

“Exactly.” He gestured for her to step up higher, holding her waist as he lifted her into the cockpit. Ellie settled her tiny frame into the seat, her feet barely skimming the pedals in the footwell. Reaching back into the rear seat, he grabbed his helmet, the one adorned with his call sign, and the “lady butt” as Ellie called it. Carefully, he placed it on her head. The weight of it pressed on her neck, far too big, but she didn’t care. The weight of it made her feel important—like she was a part of something bigger, like she was in the cockpit with her dad. 

“Dad…” Ellie began, her voice small and muffled from under the oversized helmet as she pushed it up so she could see him. “What’s it like? Flying up there?”  

Her dad leaned against the side of the F-14, his gaze drifting out toward the open hangar doors where the night sky stretched endlessly above. “It’s like…freedom. Like nothing else in the world matters. Just you, the jet, and the sky. And when you’re up there, you feel like you can do anything.”  

Ellie’s eyes sparkled as she imagined, endless skies, horizon boundless, freedom. “Maybe I can be your RIO one day?”  

Her dad chuckled and Ellie could feel her heart swell, the thought of being here with her dad in his favourite place. He reached out and gently tapped the helmet on her head. “You’re already halfway there, kid. One day, you’ll be up there with me. I’ll be the one flying, and you’ll be the one keeping me safe, making sure we’re on the right track.”  

Ellie smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. “Promise?”  

“I promise,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto hers, and Ellie could feel the pride growing in her, the thought of following in her dad’s footsteps both thrilling and nerve wracking. “Just don’t tell your uncle Wolfman. You’ll be putting him out of a job and I don’t know if the Navy is ready for two Nevens up there.” 

For a moment, it was just them in that cockpit, the noise of the hangar fading into the background as her dad told her to pull back on this throttle and showed her where the ejection handles were. Ellie could feel the importance of it, the way her dad talked about all of it. If her dad said she could do it, then she could—her hero, strong, invincible. Maybe she could be his RIO one day.   

He grinned and grabbed the straps of the helmet, giving it a loving shake. “Alright, kiddo. You got school tomorrow. Let’s get out of here before someone catches us.”  

Ellie laughed as he lifted her out of the cockpit and set her down, but as they walked out of the hangar, her hand still in his, she couldn’t help but glance back at the jet.  

“I think we just found your call sign, huh?” Her dad hummed as they stepped out into the night air, the sun now gone from the sky, replaced by the moon glow of a clear night. “Eleanor Rio Neven.” 

Ellie glanced up at him, her gap-toothed grin, wide. “I like it.” 

“Rio it is then. Hollywood and Rio.” 

One day, she thought. One day she’d earn that call sign. 

Ellie glanced at the email again to stick the office assignment in the forefront of her mind, standing in front of her open car trunk, before she locked her phone and tucked it into the back pocket of her pressed pants. She was thankful she wasn’t Navy; she knew her strengths fashion wise, and it wasn’t the khaki tan colour of the service uniforms. Civilian contractors had the best of both worlds.  

Grabbing the heavy box of her things, Ellie dragged it from the trunk and hefted it, balancing it on her hip as she reached for the close trunk button.  

“Comm Center 11,” the security officer barely suppressed a chuckle as Ellie used the ledge in front of the glass to hold the box while she fished out her pass, “that’s clear across the airfield from here. You’ll have to take the perimeter; they’ll be running drills at this time. Pattern’s full.”  

“Thanks.” Ellie nodded, taking a moment to clip her pass to the waist of her pants before she lifted the box and used her hip to open the door onto the base.  

Shifting the weight of the box, Ellie tipped her chin as she passed a few officers and a few of the ground crew she half-recognized from the myriad of tours yesterday. Her things weren’t heavy individually—a few office supplies, models of the tech, schematics, a monitor, her MacBook—but stacked awkwardly, they made a clumsy, unbalanced load in the flimsy box with the caved in corners, reinforced with layers of packing tape.  

The morning sun was already intense, gleaming off the pavement so she had to squint as she moved forward, all her concentration on not dropping the box as she felt the cardboard bow under the shifting weight of her belongings, the occasional silence between the sound of jet engines and shouting staff filled by the steady clicking of her heels.  

“Need a hand?”  

The voice was unmistakable, easy, with a hint of banter around the edges, the barely concealed smugness cutting through the noise of the airfield. Ellie knew who it belonged almost immediately, the feeling of recognition hitting her square in the gut before she turned.  

Hangman. 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ellie set her shoulders, adjusting her grip on the unwieldy box. Set the tone, she reminded herself, hearing Yan’s voice echo in the back of her mind. She had to hold her ground.   

Turning, her eyes landed on him immediately. He was standing just a few feet away, arms crossed casually over his chest, the khaki tan of his service khakis was definitely doing something for him, something dangerous for his sharp features and easy confidence. He knew he looked good. She could feel herself bristle slightly, caught off-guard by how cool and collected he looked, his lips quirked into a lazy grin, almost infuriatingly amused as he took her in. It felt tailor made to annoy the living hell out of her at this specific moment. He looked ready to swoop in if she so much as tipped the box the wrong way and she wasn’t sure if that grated on her nerves, or if it was something else entirely. 

“No, I don’t need a hand, Lieutenant Seresin,” she replied firmly, adjusting her grip on the box and her resolve. She turned around again resolutely ignoring him and starting off in her original direction, the corner of the already flimsy cardboard buckling, her belongings shifting inside as the box threatened to give way any moment. 

Sure enough, she heard his footsteps fall into pace beside her, an easy saunter as if he had all the time in the world. “You’re a civilian contractor; you can take it easy with the Lieutenant. You can call me Jake…” he began casually, before his voice dropped just enough to add weight to his next words, “since we’ve already been… acquainted.” 

Ellie’s jaw tightened, her pace slowing until she came to a stop. The box crumpled further under her suddenly tightened grip, and she thought she heard the tape coming away from the bottom of the box. She turned slightly, just enough to level him with a glare, all heat and warning. “I’m aware of what happened. That was… before.” Before she knew he was a real pilot. Before she knew cocky and smug were his default personality traits. “This is work, not—” 

“Not what?” he interrupted carefully, the mischievous glint in his eye almost twinkling now. “Not two, consenting adults who had a good time and now coincidentally find themselves working on the same base?” 

Great. So he hadn’t recently happened upon a semi-serious, short-term memory wiping head injury. How unlucky for her. She’d have to work on quashing the butterflies causing the stupid feelings in her stomach currently. The ones that told her she liked looking at his aggravating, annoying, idiotic, handsome face and hearing the charming southern drawl in his words. What was it that Yan had said? Another girl in a long line of hook ups? 

Ellie felt her face heat and not from the sun continuing to beat down. “That’s exactly what this is, actually. Coincidence. That’s it,” Ellie lifted her chin, defiant in the face of his easy charm, her voice dipping low as a crew member zipped past them in a golf cart. “One night. A one-time thing.” 

This time, he broke into a wry grin, but he didn’t speak, and Ellie felt as if he was waiting for her to continue, so she did. 

“Listen, I don’t know what your angle is, but whatever you think happened between us? It won’t happen again.” She kept her gaze trained on him, looking for the moment it might sink in. “I’m here to do a job, that’s it.” Ellie turned again, squinting against the sun as she continued on her way, her dramatic exit. She’d taken three full strides, the box betraying her confident pace, folding in as a piece of lose tape flapped in the breeze and stuck to her hand as her belongings rolled around, loose at the bottom, before Jake was at her side again.  

His eyebrow quirked up, but he didn’t look fazed. Amused, that was the more fitting word, Ellie thought. He looked entertained. By her struggle, by her refusal of his offer for help, even now as the box pitched, weight shifting oddly as the things inside moved around, uncontrolled. “My angle?” He repeated, almost as if he couldn’t believe it wasn’t butter. His tone was teasing and light. “So, you think I have an angle? You been doing a lot of thinking about me then, sweetheart?”  

Ellie rolled her eyes hard, and she picked up her pace. She pointedly ignored his question about her extracurricular thoughts, which definitely included thoughts of him despite her better judgement, but he didn’t need the confirmation. “I don’t know what it is, yet” the box pitched, and Hangman’s hand moved to right it, but Ellie angled it away from him, the sound of her monitor being smacked by the decorative arc reactor paperweight sending her stomach into a tip. “But yes, I’m sure you have one.”  

Firmly, Ellie pushed down the memory of Halloween. The chemistry between them had been a wildfire, quick, easy, starting as something small, possibly insignificant, and then grew unexpectedly, fast, all-consuming, searing, white hot, uncontrollable, unpredictable. It was only spoiled by seeing him again and realizing that he had been telling her the whole truth and nothing but the truth the entire time. He was a pilot. A Lieutenant. A pilot just like every other pilot she’d ever met. Cocky, self-assured, overly confident, reckless. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Whatever you’re thinking, do me a favour—don’t. You’re not fooling me.”    

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” He responded, smirking as he watched her wrestle with the box each step of the way. Part of her appreciated that he let her, liked that he respected that she’d said no and turned down his help.  

Before she could deflect, Ellie felt her heel catch just enough on an uneven bit of pavement, and the box, already unbalanced, began to teeter forward, the weight of the shifting contents making it more difficult to recover as she simultaneously tried to save her things and steady herself. Instinctively, she reached out to steady it, but Jake’s hand shot out, steadying her with one hand on her elbow and the other catching the box. He was good… really good. 

“Careful there,” he said softly, all hints of ribbing gone, his eyes locked on hers. “It’d be a shame if all that attitude ended up in a broken ankle.” 

Ellie felt a flush of frustration and something else she wasn’t willing to name, his touch igniting something in her she had to fight to press down again. Stiffening against his grasp, she quickly steadied herself and once she was sure the box was as balanced as she could get it, he carefully let go. In the wake of his skin on hers, she felt a coolness and part of her missed the contact. 

“I can handle myself, thank you” she murmured, but there was less bite. She left no room for him to question her assertation as she straightened herself to stand taller. Looking him dead in the eye was a feat, all six feet of him towering over her, even with the added height of her heels. 

“Never said you couldn’t.” He stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender, but the smug look didn’t fade. “But just so we’re clear, if you ever need a hand, I’m around. For whatever. Work-related, of course.” 

Ellie didn’t answer, just tightened her grip on the box, ignoring the way her heart had quickened in that split second of closeness, his hand on her arm a beat longer than necessary after she steadied herself. She turned and continued toward her office, keeping her chin high and pretending she couldn’t feel Jake’s eyes on her. 

As she walked away, she heard him call out, “See you around, Ace.” 

“303,” Ellie murmured, clicking past the numbered doors, closed and plated with names that weren’t hers. “304,” she blew out a huff of air as her eyes flicked to the next door. 

She’d broken out into a bit of a sweat by the time she’d made it to Comms building 11, her calves aching. Now she knew why that security officer had laughed at the sight of her, the sad box of things in her grip already failing. Between the pace she’d kept up, a speed between confident stride and hectic hustle to get away from the man she’d been trying to avoid, and the distance between the parking lot and here, she’d hit her workout goal for the entire week. 

“305.” 

Rigby, E. Ellie glanced at the nameplate secured to the door and used her elbow to press down on the paddle handle, maneuvering expertly to use her hip to wedge the port open when she heard the click of the latch releasing. 

Turning into the space, Ellie paused for a moment, glancing back at the nameplate on the door for half a second longer when she took in the sheer size of the office. This had to be some kind of mistake, civilian contractors didn’t get windows, especially not eastern facing windows.  

The nameplate stuck to the door still said her name. The number above the port hadn’t changed. This was 305 and that was her name on the door. 

Stepping further inside, Ellie kicked the door closed behind herself, only registering that another person was in the room when they spoke. 

“Hey, Rio.”  

The call sign hit her, broadside, and drew her eyes immediately to the source.  

The man who leaned against the corner of the window ledge on the other side of the room, arms folded across his chest, was silhouetted against the bright morning light streaming in. Though his face had changed, laugh lines deepened around his eyes, the crease between his brow mostly cemented, likely exacerbated by all the young, hot shot pilots he’d watched breeze through Miramar over the years, she would recognize him anywhere. 

Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: Maverick. 

Ellie smirked as he stepped forward, taking the box from her without hesitation and sliding it onto the edge of the small coffee table, situated in front of the quaint sitting area which included a couch and an armchair. Free from the weight of the box, Ellie took a deep breath and, hands on hips, surveyed the space. “I think they made a mistake, Mav. This has to be your office. Way too big to be a civilian contractor’s, that’s for sure.”  

Maverick chuckled and Ellie could see the younger version of the man she’d met years ago behind the softened angles of his face. She guessed, in his eyes, she looked a lot different from the kid running around the airfield, causing trouble, getting in the way, herself. “Pulled a few strings. Anything for Hollywood’s kid.” 

She met his wry grin with a smirk of her own, a flash of gratitude filling her with a sense of the calm of familiarity, but she shook her head with a laugh. “Well, thanks for the royal treatment, but I think it’s a bit much.” Ellie gestured to the large space, the window behind Mav looking out onto the airfield, the grand mahogany desk waiting for a touch of personalization, an expanse of empty bookshelves behind it and the sitting area to her right.  

Her “office” at the base in Turkey had been little more than a space between two filing cabinets, open to the coffee station, water cooler and any Air Force pilot who thought she looked unassuming or unaware. She’d accepted that space as workable for over a year. This, by comparison, was at least seventeen steps up. For one, there was a door. “I was half expecting a supply closet, to be honest. Somewhere with more dust and a lot less… light.” 

Maverick closed the space between them, pulling her into a quick hug before he stepped back to really take her in, his hands framing her shoulders. “How’re you doing, kid? How’s Miramar treating you so far? Wouldn’t expect it’s anything Rio couldn’t handle.” 

“Rio,” Ellie tested out the old call sign, the second time she’d heard it from Mav in such a short time, a soft smile pulling up the corner of her lips slightly, “haven’t heard that one in a long time. I’m good.”  

She’d leave out the footnotes that included Hangman, or any possible complications that were attached to him for now. Instead, Ellie took a moment to look at Maverick, she hadn’t been expecting him to be here, hadn’t expected to feel the comfort in the presence of his easy nature. Seeing him settled the anxiety simmering beneath the surface, if only just a little bit. “So, they called you in to keep tabs on me, huh?” 

“Something like that.” A knowing look crossed his face, a smirk, the look of the old Maverick Ellie had known for the majority of her life. Cocky, self-assured, non-conformist, Maverick was the typical archetype of a pilot, at least every one that Ellie had ever encountered. “I figured I’d be a friendlier face than Admiral Simpson. Someone to get you started. I know Miramar’s not the… smoothest place to transition into.” 

Admiral Simpson. Stuffy, hard-lined, hard-nosed, Admiral Simpson. The same Admiral Simpson that had watch-checked and foot-tapped his way through her presentation the other day. The same Admiral she couldn’t help but feel would sideline her project if it meant delaying a mission for even half a minute. On the other hand, there was RADM Stark—welcoming and excited, and yet, there was something unreadable about her. Something that Ellie wasn’t sure she could trust behind the glad to have more estrogen in the room facade. 

There was a reason she had a reputation as someone to impress, there was a reason she was thriving in the man-made, old boys club that was the Navy. 

Ellie made a face, and Maverick simply pressed his lips into a thin line and raised his eyebrows quietly. Maverick understood—he almost always did, especially when it came to following protocol, or rather, breaking protocol. Maverick hadn’t ever been any Admiral’s favourite pilot—especially not Admiral Benjamin, even if his daughter, Penny, thought differently. If anyone could help her navigate the difficult politics of Admirals and strict rules of engagement, it was Maverick. Maverick who, somehow, hadn’t been dishonourably discharged… yet.  

There was no doubt in her mind she would be thankful to have Maverick and his rule-bending in her corner as the go-between. 

“Smooth is overrated,” Ellie scoffed, shrugging. “I’m here to work—maybe make a few of you Navy boys cry in the process, if I’m lucky.” 

Maverick’s laugh was sudden and loud, genuine, the grin on his face wide.  

“Good,” he nodded, approvingly, patting her arm. “Well, in the spirit of smooth in the context of work, I’ve got some updates from the Admirals. Did you want to—” Maverick nodded toward the desk, and it took Ellie a moment to understand what he was suggesting, lost in the soft, blurred edges of nostalgia.  

“Yeah, of course. Better to just dive into the deep end with this, I guess.” 

Ellie rummaged for a second and dug her MacBook from the box, doing her best to ignore that there was a fresh dent in the lid as she swept over to the desk and Maverick settled in on the other side. 

“So I’ve had a chance to go over your reports and the preliminary data from the prototype testing on base in Turkey,” Mav started, his expression unreadable, though his posture suggested a relaxed, nonchalant approach. She supposed this was the most professional he would get with her. “It’s really impressive, Ellie. Your dad, he mentioned you were top of the game, he didn’t mention that you were running circles around the rest of us.” 

“I mean—” Ellie started, she kept her eyes on the screen of her laptop as it started up, “it’s all still relatively untested….” 

She pointedly ignored Mav’s mention of her dad. Hollywood wasn’t exactly a subject she wanted to touch on right now. Especially not with Maverick. She knew where it would lead. 

“Still. Must be something promising to get them to pull you here from halfway across the world.” Mav didn’t push the topic further as she saw him cross his legs, ankle on knee, in her peripheral. “It’s going to make a big difference to a lot of people if we can get it off the ground. I’m putting my weight behind this one, Rio—that counts for something. At least the Admirals think so.” 

“I hope so.” Ellie straightened herself in her chair, MacBook finally at the ready, despite a few broken pixels in the top left corner of the screen. “How do we tackle this then? Do I want to know what kind of resources they’re allocating for this?” 

Maverick paused for a moment, his hands passing over the armrests before folding his hands. “Good news or bad news?” 

“You know me, Mav—news is news.” 

“Well, they’re giving us pilots and significant testing time. They’ve put me on the testing schedules too, so you’ll be seeing a lot of me. We’ll run this as seamlessly as possible and get you the data you need to make this a reality.” Maverick’s fingers drummed on his knee, casual, calm. 

“Okay, that sounds like the good news to me….” Ellie cautiously made notes, her eyes returning to Mav as if she expected the other shoe to drop at any moment. So far, these were all workable resources. “I’ll get Records to pull the pilot files—”   

“No need, I’ve got them here.” Maverick reached to the chair beside him before sliding a folio across the desk toward her, thick with dossiers. “Fifteen pilots. They’re the best the Navy has to offer. All Top Gun graduates, all recalled for the current mission training. They’re giving us four of our choosing.” 

Ellie shrugged, her hand resting on the top of the stack of files, her thumb flipping through the first few tabs with call signs. Bob, Coyote, Duke, she nodded slowly, processing. “Well, to be honest, I was expecting far less—”  

“We have to run the testing of your tech alongside the mission training. They’re giving us two and a half months.” Maverick’s words hung in the air for a long moment, a moment in which Ellie’s eyes snapped to his and she searched for the lie there she knew she wouldn’t find. Maverick didn’t lie, he wasn’t the type. 

And there it was: the other shoe. 

Two and a half months. The initial research alone had taken years. Years of algorithm building, years of theoretical practice, years of begging for funding. Hell, the prototype alone had taken a year to create in a lab with her close oversight. Two and a half months was a drop in the ocean, a near impossibility. This was an out of the frying pan and into the heat situation if Ellie had ever seen one. “No pressure, right?” 

“RADM Stark is in our corner for now—Admiral Simpson has made it clear he’ll recommend moving forward with the mission with or without your tech,” Maverick didn’t sugar coat it and Ellie appreciated that about him—it wasn’t in his nature to soften the blow. “I think you and I would both prefer that it’s with. The more of these pilots we can bring home, the better.” 

Ellie glanced at the stack of files again, folded in the larger tan manila, and nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay then, deep ending this.” 

“Pick your top candidates based on the needs of the tech and the testing. I’m looking forward to reading your report.” Maverick tapped the corner of the desk, standing before shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Let’s say my office. Tomorrow morning, 0800 sharp. Bring coffee.” 

“Careful Mav,” Ellie tutted, her eyebrow raised in a teasing way as she looked up at him over the top of her computer screen, “that sounds an awful lot like protocol. You’ve got a reputation for throwing out the rulebook to uphold around here.” 

Maverick waved her off as he headed for the door and Ellie watched him pause for just a moment, halfway out, his hand on the knob. “This isn’t exactly going to be a walk in the park, kid. But if there’s anyone who can pull this off, it’s you. Whether the name on the door is Neven or not—” Mav’s knuckles rapped against the solid wood, just under the name plate displaying her mother’s maiden name, “—the Nevens have a way of making things happen. You’re where you’re meant to be.” 

“Thanks.” 

Maverick offered her a small smile, cleared his throat and then stepped out of the door. “Oh, Ellie?” Maverick’s head was back through the door, his finger pointing to the shelving behind her. “I brought you a little office warming gift.” 

Ellie quickly found the small potted fern, the decorative pot it sat in painted with Be-LEAF in Yourself in neat block lettering. Ellie lifted the pot, turning with a raised eyebrow, displaying the saying. 

“Penny picked it out.” Mav shrugged, as if he himself were above the plant pun. When Ellie’s gaze didn’t shift, Mav waved a hand and retreated again. “0800 sharp, Rio. Two sugars, no dairy.” 

With a dry chuckle, Ellie turned back to the shelf, her eyes quickly finding something else where the pot had been, hidden. 

The photo in the frame was slightly faded, but the energy captured within the image felt timeless. It was a group shot, clearly taken at Miramar a lifetime ago, the California sun bright overhead, casting shadows across the tarmac where the four men stood, exuding effortless swagger. The aura of young pilots in their prime. 

Maverick was front and center, his signature aviators reflecting a blurred image of the photo taker, a familiar cocky grin stretching across his face. His flight suit was unzipped at the top, revealing the white T-shirt underneath. To his right, Ellie’s eyes focused on her dad. His posture, shoulders relaxed, mirrored Maverick’s, his smile easy but sharp, his trademark confidence that matched his call sign. 

Next to him, Wolfman, her dad’s RIO, his stance a little more casual but no less self-assured. He had an arm slung around Hollywood’s shoulder; their camaraderie apparent even through the static image. His grin was wide and mischievous, like he had just cracked a joke that made Hollywood laugh. Wolfman was always the one for jokes—always inappropriate, never failing to make her dad laugh. 

On the far left, slightly more composed but no less iconic, stood Iceman. His jaw was set, his aviators pushed up into his blond hair as he looked at the camera with a subtle smirk. Even in the informal setting, he carried himself with the unshakable confidence of someone who knew he was the best. 

The four of them stood against the backdrop of an F-14 Tomcat, the jet’s sleek frame gleaming in the sunlight. 

It was a snapshot of a time when they were young, fearless, and seemingly invincible—a moment frozen in time, untouched by the years and the weight of everything that would come after. In the reflection of the glass, Ellie could just make out her own face as she refocused, her eyes soft and her brow pulled together. 

Rolling her eyes, Ellie shook herself out of her own thoughts, scoffing as she snapped the picture face down, its support leg sticking up like that of a dead bug. 

If she wanted to survive here, if she had any hope of making a difference, she would need to keep her head on straight. No more distractions. 

“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that if you want to leave here with something other than lint in your pockets, Bradshaw.”  

Jake grabbed the triangle and racked the balls as Rooster groaned, the wad of bills in the fold that came out of his pocket thinner than it had been at the beginning of the evening. He thumbed out another twenty and placed it on top of the growing pile of cash sitting on the edge of the table before he took a swig of beer. “Keep taking my money, Hangman and you’ll have to tell Nic why I can’t take her out on Friday.”  

“Oh, you want me to tell your girl her boyfriend can’t handle his balls?” Hangman smirked, shifting the triangle up to the foot spot on the table before carefully removing the rack. “You know, I’d be real happy to do that, Rooster.” Grabbing his cue, Jake nodded across the table, “how ’bout I let you break first then, give you a head start.”  

As Rooster leaned over the table to line up the break, Jake grabbed his beer, leaning up against the wall. The late-day sun streamed in through the windows of the Hard Deck, casting long shadows across the scuffed hardwood, the warm glow of golden hour adding a certain charm to the scrappy, Navy watering hole. It was routine by now, mission training, the Hard Deck, hustling pool for a little extra spending money, embarrassing Rooster who always seemed eager to try to prove he was better than Jake at the game. Wash, rinse, repeat. Steady pace for a Tuesday night. But tonight, Jake’s mind wasn’t on the pool game, or the growing pile of Rooster’s cash.  

Instead, it was occupied by thoughts of a particular Radar Tech who had, in two short days, carved out a space in his head: Eleanor Rigby. That surprised Jake—surprised him in ways that took the routine out of his usual one-night M.O. 

After he’d seen her that morning, struggling with the box, almost comically, and she refused his help outright, the end of the day had come quickly. Quicker than Jake had anticipated. Between the packed mission training and the maneuver refreshers, his head had been on a swivel, his eyes peeled, but he hadn’t managed to catch her again. 

The sharp crack of the cue ball breaking and scattering the striped and solids, pulled Jake’s focus back to the game. Rooster managed to sink one solid, smirking as he stepped back to find himself for another viable shot.  

“Nice shot, Bradshaw,” Jake drawled, his eyes twinkling as he set down his bottle on the edge of a nearby high-top table. “I think this might be the first time you’ve hit something clean all week.”  

Rooster’s breathy laugh sounded for just a moment, his eyes sizing up the next shot. “Just wait, Bagman,” Rooster murmured, leaning over to line up his cue again. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be asking me for a loan.”  

“Bold for someone down to their last twenty.” Jake smirked, chalking his own cue. He waited for Rooster to take his shot—missing a corner pocket by a hairsbreadth—before stepping in to size up the table, tutting. “Might have to start playing some tunes for tips,” he nodded over to the piano in the corner. 

They rotated between trading teasing banter and goading remarks for a moment before Jake’s inquiring mind got the better of him, swimming with thoughts of her face, the way she looked at him within the new frame that existed outside of their Halloween encounter. 

“So,” Jake started, casually, nonchalant, as he chose his next shot, Rooster having missed his solid, and bent to take aim, lining up a striped ball with the corner pocket. “We have a new radar tech or something—Rigby?” Jake played dumb, played disinterested, acted as if he didn’t know her name, pretended he didn’t like the way the mark his mouth had left on her neck stuck out in sharp contrast to her put together, professional look the other day. 

As he looked up from under his lashes, Jake could see Rooster pause mid-sip of his beer, eyebrow raised. “Rigsy? Radar Tech, Engineer I think the proper term is. She’s Nic’s best friend. Her roommate now too, actually.” Rooster set his beer down carefully, “Why? What’s your angle?” 

Rigsy. So Rooster knew her outside of work. Jake carefully stored the information, his eyes never leaving the cue ball and the line of aim with the striped ball. “No angle,” he replied evenly, taking the shot and sinking the striped ball and another in its path with ease. “Just curious. Seems like she’s got the brass wrapped around her finger already.” 

“That’s because she’s good at what she does,” Rooster said, stepping away to the bar and grabbing two more bottles of beer before he returned to the table. “Smart, like, real smart. No nonsense, she won’t put up with any crap. Not the usual type you’d chase, though,” 

Jake took the shot, and the ball ricocheted off the pocket point in a way he hadn’t expected, missing the striped ball he’d lined up with that pocket, wide. Straightening, he chuckled, leaning against his cue stick, stepping back for Rooster’s turn. “Who says I’m chasin’, Bradshaw?”  

Rooster’s response was a snort as he stepped up to the table. “Sure, man, whatever you say,” he glanced up at Jake, a knowing look crossing his face, eyes incredulous, eyebrow peaked. “You don’t exactly have a reputation for curiosity without motive, Seresin.” 

Jake smirked, but didn’t respond, moving in to take another shot instead when Rooster missed his second shot and Jake sunk two more stripes in quick succession. He felt Rooster’s gaze lingering, and despite trying to play it cool, he couldn’t shake the curiosity that had been brewing since he’d seen her on Halloween. More so since seeing her here, at Miramar again, of all places. When she’d let him come back to her place and he’d fucked her until her knees shook, he hadn’t expected to see her again. Now, now he thought about what it would have been like if she’d known his name then, what it would sound like for her to moan it, beg him for more. It was enough to drive him dangerously close to mad. 

Jake missed the next shot, his mind hazed with the thought. Stepping back, he folded his arms across his chest and tried to act uninterested. “Say I’m curious for… curiosity’s sake: what’s her deal? Anything I should know?” 

“Oh shit—you really don’t know…” Rooster raised an eyebrow, taking a deep swig of his beer, studying the label as he tried to contain his smirk, before replying. “You don’t know who her old man is, do you?” 

Jake froze slightly at that, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed at the pilot across the table from him. “Her old man?” 

Rooster chuckled and shook his head, his tone low as he tapped the cue stick on the floor. “Rick Neven. Hollywood. Shot down in combat on a mission over the Gulf. Made sure his WSO got out first and ejected too late just above hard deck. Broke his back in three places. Docs said it was nothing short of a miracle he was alive, but that he’d never walk again.” 

Jake blinked, the weight of the name hitting him immediately. Hollywood. One of the legends. The same pilot whose photo was framed alongside Maverick and Iceman, Goose and Slider in the halls all around base. He took a breath, trying to process it, while trying his best to keep composure. “You tellin’ me she’s Neven’s kid?”  

Rooster nodded, continuing as if he knew the exact thoughts running through Jake’s mind. “Yeah, man. That’s Rigsy’s dad. Big shadow to live under. She’s been pretty much anti-pilot her whole life, from what I’ve gathered.” 

Jake felt the words settle in his gut, realizing just how tangled this was becoming. Ellie wasn’t just some random civilian contractor; she came with baggage, a history that had been shaped by the same world they both lived in—but from a very different perspective. And after their Halloween encounter, he suddenly understood why she hadn’t mentioned anything about it. It also explained the guardedness in her eyes, the bite in her sarcasm. 

“She doesn’t really talk about him much,” Rooster added, his voice dropping slightly, as if sensing Jake’s shift in mood. Rooster had always been good at that, even if Jake didn’t want to admit it. “Nic says it’s a sore spot. That and her folks splitting.” 

Jake set his cue down, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to wrap his head around it. “Damn.” 

“You’re in over your head with that one, Hangman,” Rooster said with a knowing smirk. “She’s not your usual type, and if you somehow manage to get past all those SAMs she’s throwing out, she sure as hell won’t make it easy.” 

“Wouldn’t be any fun if she did, Rooster.” Jake let out a dry chuckle, picking up his beer and taking a long drink. “Wouldn’t be any fun if she did.” 

tags bbs: @hookslove1592 @mrsevans90 @avengersfan25 @jbennsquared @dempy @obsessed-fan-alert @djs8891 @lunatygerqueen @khouse712 @alipap3 @yuckosworld @marvelouslyme96

taglist if you want to be added/removed!

[woncon]

➳ sick duty.

➶ poly!ateez x gn!reader (yungisang focus) ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ Yunho is sick, and you and Yeosang are on sick duty. When the others still haven't arrived with jelly, you decide to go to the nearest shop in the raging storm and buy some, because Yunho really wants them.

➴ genre: slice of life, sickfic, estabilished relationship, polyamory, non-idol!au

: ̗̀➛ warnings: poor yunho has a fever, one sexually suggestive offer, petnames, nudity

⌨ :: 3.5K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ This idea came to me when I saw a double rainbow in early June while listening to Golden Hour Pt1. It was supposed to play in the summer, but I never got to the end. Now autumn came and I decided to write it. But in this rainy, gloomy weather it seemed better to set it in a more autumnal setting. That changed my basic idea a lot, but I'm happy with it as it is.

⁀➷ My lovely @wonsheep, I'm still sorry the rain poured on you so heavily on Wednesday. :( But it was very motivating, as you can see. Many thanks for reading through the story and founding my silly mistakes!

➳ mlist

I'm hot.

I want tea.

I'm cold.

The sickly season of the autumn-winter months spares no one. Yunho, who is hard to dislodge from whatever well-endowed giraffe's legs he has, is now curled up in the middle of the bed, disconsolate because he didn't pull on a thick enough scarf, or was carelessly underdressed in the living room, or simply spent too much time around a co-worker who has been lurking with some virus. Whichever the case, the poor guy is in a terrible mood.

"I want medicine," he whispers his next wish.

You look at your watch.

“One more hour before you can take the next one,” you say, brushing his hair away to touch his sweat beaded forehead. It's still as warm as underfloor heating.

Frustrated, he rolls to the side and buries his head fully into the pillow. You drop your hands back into your lap, helpless. It's simply exasperating to watch him suffer, to listen to his snotty, ragged breathing mix with the rain beating against the window.

“Do you want something to help?” you ask, when he turns to you again and raises his feverish eyes to you. The skin around his nose is flushed from all the blowing.

“Jelly.”

Yunho is convinced that jelly sweets can help him. Or at least when he's sick, he likes to eat sweets. Other times, not so much. Unfortunately, you guys weren't prepared for Yunho being sick in the near future. Plus, there's a storm brewing, the kind you haven't seen in a long time. It's been raining steadily for a week now, sometimes more, sometimes less. The others went to do the shopping with the car, leaving Yunho behind with the promise to bring him some jelly. He responded with a small, grateful smile.

Now, looking at his tortured expression, you would give a lot to see that smile again, the hope in his eyes. You reach out and take his hand. You sigh. Gently, slowly, you caress the back of his hand, knowing how sensitive he is to touch when he has a fever. You don't want to overdo it and hurt him, but at the same time you want to let him know physically that you're there for him.

"It's on the way." You really hope it is. The last time Jongho called, they were already at the checkout. Your youngest friend boasted that they were bringing five full bags of jelly beans. That was about twenty minutes ago. No news since then. It bothers you that you can't offer an immediate solution to Yunho's every wish.

Before Yunho can ask any more questions, the door opens. Yeosang arrives with a tray holding a steaming mug and something wrapped in napkins that you can't identify yet. With cautious steps, he moves to the other side of the bed among some discarded clothes - because Yunho didn't want to shower this morning, just threw everything off the bed he'd chosen as his regular place - and then takes a seat, placing the tray safely on the bedside table, gently moving Seonghwa's half-finished book.

“I've brought the tea," he says to Yunho. "And I found some biscuits to go with it."

Interested, the patient moves up on the pillow, but still looks vulnerable. Yeosang holds the cup in his hand and gives the man small sips. Meanwhile, you get up and gather up the laundry strewn around the bed and take it to the bathroom. On the way, you hear a conversation emanating from the kitchen, from which you hear the word 'jelly bean' clearly spoken at one point. So after throwing the laundry in the hamper, you go to the kitchen instead of the bedroom. The room is filled with the smell of hot water and tea leaves. Mingi is putting away the tea ingredients. The call is already finished, his phone is on the counter.

Originally, Mingi wouldn’t be on sick duty today. Today's subordinates are you and Yeosang, Mingi just didn't want to leave the apartment in this crazy weather and he’s helping you instead. It's not like this sick duty thing is strict in your relationship, and it's set in stone that Mingi can only nurse Yunho on Mondays and Fridays and holidays or anything. That said, there are rules. For example, Mingi usually only needs one nurse when he gets a cold or something more serious, but at such times it is Yunho for most of the time. Then there's Jongho, who, if he falls ill, no matter what the schedule, has all eight of you at his disposal twenty-four hours a day. Or, again, there's Seonghwa, who hides the fact that he's sick until it's too obvious, and you're all freaking out as to why he won't let you take care of him.

Yunho usually hardly gets sick. When he does, even a mild cold will get him down. And when he is ill, he's even fussier than the sick Wooyoung, and only one lover has a hard time coping with his demands. Usually two people are enough to care for him if there are jelly beans nearby. Which, for now, there aren’t.

“Are they on their way home?” you ask Mingi, who's packing honey. 

"It's worse downtown than here," he says. "The traffic's bad. They're just moving towards home inch by inch."

You both look out of the window, and the tapping of the rain remains as unrelenting as the fever that plagues Yunho.

“Is the tea to his liking?”

“I'm sure of it,” you smile at him. Mingi is usually insecure when it comes to Yunho's well-being. You suspect that the boy's illness was a more significant reason for Mingi to stay home than his desire not to get wet. “But you can ask him.”

You return to the bedroom with Mingi at your side. You remind yourself that this room now functions as a ward. The patient is huddled near the edge of the bed, munching on biscuits soaked in tea, so that they don't scratch his throat.

“It's not jelly,” he mutters, then pulls away from Yeosang and lies back on the upholstered cushions.

You look at Yeosang. Your theory is that you're thinking the exact same thing. If jelly beans are the only thing that helps your boyfriend, you'll do anything to get them. You're even willing to go to the convenience store in the pouring rain, because when you are on sick duty, Yunho mustn't lack anything.

"We'll go and get jelly beans," you say. Yeosang nods his head in commitment.

“We'll go?” Mingi looks terrified. “All of us?”

You can't leave Yunho alone in this state. It's a good thing that Mingi is here, in addition to Yeosang and you, ready for action, and not stuck in traffic with the others downtown. 

“No. You stay here with Yunho and look after him.”

Mingi continues to blink. 

“We'll be quick, don't worry, you don't have to multitask. Yuyu will probably fall asleep soon.”

"It's not me I'm worried about," he protests, "You'll get wet and cold."

"The store is not far away. We won't have enough time in the rain to freeze to death."

Yeosang wraps Yunho in a blanket and kisses him on the head.

"Mingi?" The man folded in a burrito addresses the worried individual.

“Yes?”

“Gimme a hug.”

Mingi doesn't resist, but climbs onto the bed, swapping places with Yeosang, who pats his shoulder as he passes. Before you even leave the room, you hear Mingi apologize and ask for Yunho's forgiveness.

Yeosang sticks the umbrella out the door. Just a little to test how much it rains. There's really barely any surface out, but the wind immediately grabs it and tugs it further. He pulls it back in time before the umbrella swings out or the wind wins, and you close the door with a great struggle, which also wants to jump off its hinges from the violent gusts of wind.

“I think this will stay here,” Yeosang says, and then drops the solid black umbrella behind you.

You zip up your raincoat. It occurs to you that maybe Mingi is right, and you're so wet you'll get stuck in a puddle of icy water. Yet the idea doesn't discourage you, doesn't make you stay, because Yunho needs the jellies.

Yeosang adjusts his hood, then holds out his hand. You embrace him tightly. You check your wallet stashed in the waterproof pocket one last time and place your hand on the doorknob. Then you push it down. The door swings open, and you let it drag you along with it. The back of your coat gets soaked immediately. The rain doesn't fall, it instead pours down from behind in a wave with the wind. Clinging on to Yeosang in vain, it's hard to keep up your own pace and not lurch forward like a rag doll. It's a wonder your boyfriend can close the door.

Although the shop is indeed a block away, at this time it feels like you're wandering for eternity. For one thing, the scenery is completely different in the rain, it's harder to navigate, especially in the raging, commanding wind. Around one corner, Yeosang has to pull you in, because out of nowhere a car appears, its wheels gallantly splashing a full puddle onto the pavement.

Somehow, you do reach the store. As soon as the automatic door closes behind you, the storm is out of the way. Inside, the weather is pleasant. Only the clothes clinging to your skin and the small puddles and mud stains on the floor left by other shoppers are reminders of what a doomsday is happening outside.

“Huh,” you sigh in relief. The first game of the war against weather is over. You only have one more to go to succeed in the jelly bean mission.

“We're crazy," Yeosang shakes his head in disbelief. Then he smiles up at you, sweetly and lovingly, because he's proud you're crazy. You return it.

Insanity is part of sick duty to some extent. Last time San must have used up thirty tissues a day, and ran out in the middle of the week. Hongjoong ran so fast to replace the used-up packets that he was almost hit by a truck. And when you were sick and craving nothing but a mug of hot tomato soup when all the shops were closed and there were no tomatoes at home, only ketchup... Well, Jongho tried.

You purposefully seek out sweets. Luckily, you don't have to wander around and scout the place, you'll often find yourself here. You take off two bags of Yunho's favourite flavour, sour apple. You remember again how pitiful your otherwise healthy and cheerful boyfriend looks.

“This will help him,” Yeosang says encouragingly, as if he's reading your mind.

You nod, then head for the cashier. You get in line. From here, you can see the window and the rain pouring down.

For the first time since the jelly bean plan was born, you have time to think about Mingi's excuse when he cuddled up to Yunho. It's my fault. I'm sorry. But how could it be his fault that Yunho caught a cold?

You're rewinding the previous two weeks. Yunho was in home office the whole time. He really enjoyed it, and when he wasn't working, he was playing video games. He didn't put his foot out until one time when he had to pop down to the shop for something. It didn't rain so heavily that day, just a gentle drizzle. Maybe Mingi had taken off Yunho's blanket one night? It couldn't be, either, because they'd been sleeping far apart lately.

It's your turn, so you suspend your musings. When you get back, you'll ask Mingi and hope it's not too embarrassing for him not to tell you. If he feels guilty, you could help him and reassure him that it's not his fault.

You and Yeosang pay. You put the bags in your coat pockets. You pull the hood up, not that it matters. You cling together again, then step out onto the soggy pavement. 

The way back is harder. This time the wind brings the rain from the front. Each blast smacks you in the face. Neither of your hoods can stay up. Your hair gets wet, the rain drips under your coat. You successfully step into a puddle, literally splashing in the muddy water, and the inside of your boots get soaked. You're wet everywhere, from your elbows to your toes. It's really annoying, but you don't falter, clutching Yeosang's arm until you reach the sheltering door of your home to drop in like two wet rags on the threshold and with a combined effort you shut out the cold, ominous wind. Yeosang slides along the door, his hair leaving a wet streak on the wooden panel.

“We did it,” he sighs, and proudly rattles one of the jelly beans he pulls out of his pocket. The bag is intact, of course.

“We did,” you agree, and pull him up off the ground.

Suddenly you're faced with the problem of not knowing what to take off first because everything is equally soaked. It's almost as if your clothes are the cool part of your skin, plus outer layers. Finally, following your boyfriend's example, you throw your coat on the floor first, then your shoes on the doormat, and socks after.

Before you reach for the next layer of clothing, there is the sound of footsteps. You think Mingi is coming, but when he sighs, you realize it's not your tall lover.

“You guys are adorable and dedicated, but silly at the same time," says Hongjoong with crossed arms.

“But at least Yunho’s jellies will hold out until he heals,” answers Yeosang, taking off his shirt.

“When did you arrive?” you ask.

“About a minute ago. But we'll talk later. Now go take a shower before you too end up feverishly next to Yunho,” Hongjoong advises, then retreats and San steps forward. He unconcealedly runs his eyes over Yeosang's naked torso, and yours, which still has your shirt stuck to it, rather tightly, so it might even be useless.

“If you get sick, I'll be on sick duty every day. The thing is, the adorable, dedicated, silly people are just my type” he winks.

“Move over, Sanie," Wooyoung appears and nudges the other one in the side, "You promised to help hyung pack up.”

San hums and walks away, but still smiles in your direction. You all love to oblige Hongjoong and Seonghwa, and that goes for when there's an opportunity to flirt as well.

“You two are sexy, all wet,” Wooyoung admits. “If you need help with the shower, let me know. I'll be within earshot.”

“We'll consider it,” you promise. Wooyoung nods with a grin, and he also retreats to the kitchen.

You pass through the hallway, but before you can go to the bathroom, Jongho stands in front of you with a plate of jelly beans. “Here. I thought you should be the ones to give it to him. You made a greater sacrifice, and most of us stayed dry. Except for Hwa hyung, who opened the door and held the umbrella.”

“Thank you,” you say at the same time. While Yeosang takes the bowl, you press a kiss on Jongho's cheek.

When you retire to the bedroom, the scene is quite cozy. Yunho is in bed, hugging Mingi, craving jelly beans, and you offer him what he craves most, and what you fought Mother Nature for.

“We got it,” you report.

Yunho snaps his head up. The mere hope brings life to his sick features. You stand by the bed, careful not to get rainwater on it.

“Here, hyung," Yeosang hands the bowl to him in a soft whisper.

“I hope you weren’t too desperate, baby. We hurried as much as we could.”

“You're the best," says Yunho, touched, between bites. “I love you.”

“We love you too, giant baby. Very much,” you assure him.

And he smiles up at you. The mission is a complete success. Whether all that time and getting soaked was enough to put you to bed remains to be seen. In the meantime, you bask in success.

Mingi sneezes. Then he reaches under the pillow and takes out a handkerchief. “My throat may be a tiny bit scratchy.”

“Should we set up someone on sick duty for you too?” Yeosang offers readily.

“Our poor boyfriends,” you sigh, watching them. Yunho in the midst of illness, Mingi as he probably slips into a state of flux.

“I deserve it,” murmurs Mingi, looking ruefully at Yunho.

“Why do you think so?” you ask the question that has been nagging at you for a good twenty minutes.

“When we ran out of milk last week, Yunho and I went to the grocery store... I offered to make out with him in the rain. It didn't rain much, and there was no wind. Still, that's how Yunho got cold.”

"Come on," the other protests hoarsely. He sucks on a jelly bean with great enthusiasm. You wouldn't believe he can taste it. “You offered, I agreed, I could have said no, but I didn't. All in all, it was worth it.”

“Worth it?” Yeosang raises his eyebrows. “You were dying before the jelly arrived.”

"If you haven't kissed Mingi in the rain, you won't understand," he declares, then turns to Mingi. “Want a jelly, princess?

Yeosang and you leave them alone, let them romance each other in the infirmary. Barefoot, you stomp off to the bathroom. You open the door, and a thick, fragrant steam rises from the room. A pleasant warm breeze reminds you how cold you are. You hurry inside. Yeosang closes the door to keep the comforting steam from escaping.

Seonghwa is already drying his hair and got dressed. You look at him expectantly, ready to be reprimanded. But he has no such plans. He takes your face with one hand and Yeosang's with the other. “I am proud of you. Take a bath, then we can watch a movie. We made a whole list while we were stuck in traffic.”

Yeosang hums, you nod in response. Good idea. At this time of year, there's no point in doing anything other than curling up on the sofa together.

You bask in Seonghwa's soft touch until the last moment, and the knowledge that he's proud of you. It's really enjoyable to play good cop, bad cop with Hongjoong, and they don’t scold you twice. Regardless, you need to figure out a way to cheer up that boyfriend of yours who called you adorable, dedicated, and silly all at the same time. 

“So he probably caught it while kissing,” you acknowledge what you've heard by tugging your trousers down after Seonghwa has left you alone.

“Interesting.”

“And understandable. Sounds romantic.”

“Do you want to go back?” Yeosang glances up at you as he pulls towels out of the closet. The look in his eyes is willing. It embarrasses you to know that he would take a single word from you and go back with you into the pouring rain to fulfill that desire.

“I wouldn’t do it in this weather. But, for example, standing in a cool summer drizzle, refreshing after the heat. When me and my partner won’t be so likely to have a fever for a week.”

“Last summer Woo did it with someone. I think it was with Sanie, but I'm not sure. Maybe he caught Hongjoong hyung in a moment of weakness.”

“Really? Is it fashionable to kiss in the rain in our relationship?”

“A bit.” Yeosang undresses completely. 

Your hand is over the laundry basket, you've dropped the last of your clothes in it, yet you don't move. You’re looking at Yeosang. At his naked back, how rainwater is dripping from his hair, onto his delicate muscles. The line of his shoulder blades as his back narrows, ending in the lovely hips you'd hold in your hands for days. And of course you can't neglect his ass or his thighs or his whole being, because once you start looking at him, one part of him is not enough, and the whole of him is overwhelmingly wonderful.

He turns back to you. “Are you coming?”

“Sure.” You follow him into the bath. You take his face in the palm of your hand and kiss him on the lips. “Wooyoung was right.” 

“About what?”

"You're sexy when you're wet," you explain, and at the same time you probably reveal that you were just staring at him.

"He didn't just say that to me, love," he replies, pulling you close. Then he opens the water. The warm, soothing drops fall on your head and drip down your chilled skin. Like rain.

“I have an idea. Let's kiss here like it's raining.”

“Oh,” Yeosang smiles sweetly. His thumb caresses your cheek. “Okay.”

And you shower until the hot water runs out.

[m4rv3l-girl]

I got this idea from another user @logansgaar who recently posted about Bucky language switching. I thought it’d be a funny and interesting post, our Bucky Barnes forgetting the English word and maybe Sam and the likes really confused and he keeps repeating the word he’s meaning in another language? Idk.

Can you make it a Bucky x Reader?

In English, Bucky

Bucky x Y/N

Warnings: None

Bucky wasn’t new to the chaos that came with remembering—or forgetting—things. After decades of Hydra programming and years of self-reclamation, some parts of his life still felt like piecing together a shattered mirror.

This week? It was the languages.

It started small. Just a few words slipped through the cracks, ones he couldn’t quite catch in English even though they floated vividly in Russian, Romanian, or even German. At first, it was no big deal. Y/N was used to his occasional mutterings in foreign tongues when he couldn’t quite put his thoughts into English. But now? It was different. He’d been waking up thinking in one language, holding a conversation in another, and ending his sentences in a third. The confusion? Bucky’s teammates—and poor Sam—were the first casualties.

Sam squinted at Bucky, who was pacing the room, waving his hand wildly as he gestured at the television.

“Ты не понимаешь, да?!” Bucky exclaimed in Russian, throwing his hands in the air.

“What. The. Hell.” Sam deadpanned, looking toward Y/N as if she were his last lifeline. “Seriously, why does he keep yelling at me in Russian?”

Y/N stifled a laugh, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. “He’s saying you’ve got the remote in your hand, and the volume is too loud.”

Sam glanced down at the remote, blinking as realization dawned. He turned the volume down, but that didn’t stop him from pointing a finger at Bucky. “Man, if you’re gonna yell at me, at least do it in a language I understand!”

Bucky groaned, running a hand down his face. “I said that, didn’t I?”

“No, Buck,” Y/N replied with a smile tugging at her lips. “You said it in Russian. Twice.”

Bucky froze mid-gesture, his brows furrowing in confusion. He opened his mouth to argue, only to shut it again, his eyes darting toward the ceiling as if replaying the conversation in his head. A moment later, realization dawned, and his shoulders slumped.

“Seriously?” he muttered, scrubbing his flesh hand down his face.

“Seriously,” Y/N confirmed, biting her lip to keep her amusement in check.

“I thought I—” he began, then groaned, cutting himself off. “Great. Now I’m yelling at people in the wrong language. Next thing you know, I’ll be ordering coffee in German and getting blank stares from the barista.”

Y/N tried and failed to stifle her laughter, the sound bubbling out of her as Bucky shot her a half-hearted glare. Even Sam, ever the instigator, couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You know, Barnes,” Sam said, leaning back with his arms crossed, “it’s bad enough you’re already hard to understand half the time with your whole grumpy-man shtick. Now you’re throwing in Russian? Man, no one’s gonna bother arguing with you anymore—they won’t even know how.”

“Thanks, Wilson,” Bucky deadpanned. “Really helpful.”

Sam shrugged, grinning. “Anytime.”

Y/N shook her head, stepping closer to Bucky as she placed a hand on his arm. “Hey,” she said softly, her tone cutting through his frustration. “It’s not a big deal. You’re juggling more languages in that head of yours than most people could even dream of.”

Bucky huffed, his metal fingers flexing absently. “Doesn’t feel like it. Feels like my brain’s broken.”

“It’s not broken,” she assured him, her voice firm but warm. “It’s just...overloaded. Like trying to open twenty browser tabs at once. You just need a minute to figure out which one’s playing the music.”

Her analogy earned her a faint, lopsided smile. “You always know how to make me feel better, Doll.”

“Someone has to,” she teased gently.

Sam, watching the exchange, rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, cue the rom-com moment. Can we get back to the part where Barnes was yelling at me in Russian, though? I feel like I deserve an apology in English for that.”

Bucky’s smirk returned in full force as he glanced at Sam. “Apology? I think I said it perfectly the first time, Wilson.”

This time, it was Y/N who groaned. “Here we go again.”

🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺

Later that evening, Bucky was sulking. Y/N watched him as he slumped into the couch, his metal hand twitching against the fabric as he stared blankly at the ceiling.

“You okay?” she asked gently, settling beside him.

“I’m losing my mind,” he muttered, switching back to English. His Brooklyn accent was thicker when he was tired, which only made Y/N’s heart squeeze. “I used to be fluent in English. Now I can’t even remember how to say…ugh…what’s the word for when someone’s being difficult on purpose?”

“Stubborn?” she offered.

“Yes! Stubborn!” He sat up, glaring at his own hands as if they’d betrayed him. “I tried to tell Sam that earlier, and I said it in Romanian instead.”

Y/N chuckled, her fingers brushing against his metal arm in a soothing motion. “It’s not a big deal, Buck. You know so many languages—it’s bound to happen sometimes.”

“Yeah, but it’s annoying. And embarrassing.”

“Not to me,” she murmured, her voice soft. “I think it’s cute.”

He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at her in mock suspicion. “Cute?”

She shrugged. “Cute.”

The next morning, Y/N walked into the kitchen to find Bucky hunched over the table with a stack of index cards, a Sharpie, and a determined expression. He was muttering to himself in what sounded like Polish as he scribbled words in different languages on each card.

“Are you…making flashcards?” she asked, stifling a laugh.

“Don’t laugh,” he grumbled, holding up a card. “If I write them down, maybe my brain will keep them where they belong.”

Y/N bit her lip to suppress her smile. “Baby, your brain isn’t a filing cabinet.”

“Yeah, well, it’s acting like a busted one right now,” he retorted, flipping through his growing pile. “You know how frustrating it is when you’re trying to say something and your brain’s like, ‘Nope, here’s the German version instead?’”

She slid into the seat beside him, resting her chin in her hand. “Maybe your brain’s just reminding you that you’re more than just an American soldier. You’re a man who’s lived through so much, in so many places, and somehow you’ve carried all that with you.”

Bucky paused, his blue eyes softening as he looked at her. “You’re too good to me, Doll.”

“You’re just lucky I took Russian in college,” she teased, nudging him playfully.

🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴🇷🇴

The multilingual confusion came to a head during a mission briefing.

“Barnes, are you ready?” Sam asked, looking expectantly at his friend.

Bucky nodded, and he blurted out, “Да.”

“...What?” he blinked.

“I mean, ja! No—uh, yes!” Bucky groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Sam burst out laughing, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Man, he’s broken.”

“Shut up, Sam,” Bucky snapped, glaring at him.

Sam only laughed harder. “Dude, you just said yes in three different languages in under five seconds. Are we sure you’re not a Hydra sleeper again?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his hand twitching toward the knife strapped to his thigh.

“Bucky,” Y/N said gently, placing a hand on his arm. Her tone was soothing, pulling his focus back to her. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous he can barely speak one language.”

He sighed, his shoulders relaxing under her touch. “Yeah, well, it’s still embarrassing.”

“It’s endearing,” she corrected.

🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪🇩🇪

When the day crawled in and night came, as they lay tangled together on the couch, Bucky buried his face in Y/N’s hair. “You really don’t think it’s annoying?” he mumbled, his voice muffled.

“Not at all,” she replied, turning her head to kiss his cheek. “I think it’s a reminder of how far you’ve come.”

“How do you figure?”

“You’re not just James Barnes from Brooklyn anymore. You’re Bucky Barnes, a man who’s lived a hundred lives in a hundred languages. And you’re mine,” she added, her voice dropping to a whisper. “That’s what matters.”

He pulled back to look at her, a rare smile curving his lips. “I’m yours, huh?”

“Absolutely,” she said with a grin.

“Then I guess I can deal with forgetting a few English words every now and then,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.

🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

The next morning, Bucky walked into the kitchen to find Sam waiting for him with a smirk and a stack of flashcards.

“What’s this?” Bucky asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Your new study guide,” Sam said, flipping through the cards. “I took the liberty of adding a few important phrases. Like, ‘Wilson is the coolest.’”

Bucky groaned, snatching the cards and tossing them onto the counter. “You’re the worst.”

Y/N walked in just in time to hear Sam reply, “No, I’m the coolest—remember?”

Bucky turned to her with a pleading look. “Do you see what I have to deal with?”

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You’ll live, Sergeant Barnes. You’ll live.”

——————————————————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed this, it was so much fun to create! I love acknowledging Bucky’s past without it having to be upsetting, thanks, Hun. 🫶

Requests Open!

[loulovingho]

deacon/rocker cockwarming... rocker sitting pretty for his daddy.

Rocker's at Deacon's place this time. He is having to stay for the week because a pipe burst in his apartment. He was mentioning it during some SWAT event and Annie overheard and insisted he stay at their place. He tried to decline but she simply wouldn't hear of it!

It's late. Annie is asleep beside Deacon, out like a light and has been for a couple of hours. He knows how to roll out of bed without waking her. Knows how to creep down the hall without the floors creaking.

He also knows this is a line they shouldn't cross, but God he needs to be by Rocker. He needs to be near him. They don't have to do anything, but he can't handle that this man is two rooms away from him, probably shirtless under the covers, nipples perky as always.

Rocker's awake when he slowly cracks the door open. He doesn't say anything, just pushes back the covers on the other side of the bed. "We can't do anything," Deacon whispers as he closes the door behind him and sits on the bed.

Rocker nods, but as soon as Deacon is sat and resting his back against the headboard, Rocker is straddling his hips. "What are you doing?" Deacon asks, eyes wide.

Rocker smirks, tugs as Deacon's waist band. "Nothing," he replies. "You can tell me if you want me to stop."

But Deacon just lifts his hips. Lets Rocker pull his pants midway down his thigh. "Don't do anything," Rocker says. "Just let me..." his voice trails off as he takes Deacon's cock in his hand. Deacon's heart is racing. He's not hard, not because this isn't so fucking hot, but because he's so damn nervous about this. But Rocker settles himself between Deacon's legs. It's not the most comfortable position, but he doesn't seem to mind. He takes Deacon in his mouth and just, holds him there. Closes his eyes and breaths as Deacon's cock rests in his mouth, heavy against his tongue.

He's not sure how long they stay like this. Every once in a while, Rocker will pull back slightly to swallow, but then he's right back at the same position. Never even bothers to open his eyes. At one point, Deacon thinks he's fallen asleep.

But as time goes on, the anxiety dissipates and seeing Rocker down there, just holding him like this, makes Deacon start to get hard. Rocker's eyes blearily blink open and he lets out a little moan before he starts to suck. He knows what Deacon likes, and he can take all of him without gagging a single time.

It's not long before Deacon is coming down Rocker's throat, and he swallows every last drop before he pulls off of him. Deacon wants to return the favor but Rocker gently swats his hand away. He presses a kiss to his lips, and Deacon can taste himself on him. "Go sleep with your wife," he whispers against Deacon's lips before he plops back down in the bed.

Deacon does get up and he goes back to his room. When Annie turns and wraps her arm around him, the touch feels like it burns his skin. He doesn't get any sleep that night.

[therealsaintscully]

Thank you for the tag, lovely @crepesuzette2023! It's been nice to take some time to think about my fics!

How many works do you have on ao3?

20; 18 are Johnlock (BBC) and two, the most recent ones, are mclennon.

What’s your total word count?

306,378 (I was stunned to see this, I had no idea).

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

All are Johnlock: Mark Your Calendars, my beloved Erosion, Detours, Plus One and Turned - Part I : Queen and Country.

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I try to be very good about it and respond as often as I can, but the truth is I'm a bit of an emotional wreck so when there's a rush of comments I get overwhelmed and over emotional about them, and tend to put it off for a while. I read them ALL, and I often go back and re-read them.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I had to refresh my memory but it's def Every Other Universe ("What if in every other universe John Watson leaves?"). It's one of my very earliest ones and I cringe a little reading it, but it's a very neat idea. Gretna Green Waltz, a mclennon fic, is very devastating if I may say so myself, and was written as such knowingly. It only reflects reality, though, and that's just as devastating.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I think Mark Your Calendars has the happiest ending, judging by the numbers of kudos, but for me as the writer, the cosiest, most joy-bringing ending was that of Simon (or: Love Calls You by Your Name).

Do you write crossovers?

The sadly abandoned Turned series is a crossover with Homeland.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not hate, but some less-than-considerate "when's the next chapter???" comments. I don't bother with them.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes I do :)

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Don't think so!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I remember being asked, but I'm not sure what happened with it! Some of my fics got podficced, though: Mark Your Calendars is available as podfic, and so is I Have not Lingered (thanks to the lovely @helloliriels)

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I'm so neurotic and particular I don't think I'm cut out for that.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

Mulder and Scully are DEFINITELY the mothership and always will be. I still sigh about them in a special, exasperated way about three times a week. I'm still here with Johnlock of course, but I'm pretty sure mclennon has been in the back of my mind for decades, but I was too haunted by other ships to fall down that rabbit hole. Look at me, though, here I am.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Turned, very sadly. So much so that I've considered taking it off AO3 but I'm so proud of what I did achieve with it.

What are your writing strengths?

I think my best writing moments are the ones that hook unto my real, personal experiences, not just a general idea of life situations. Erosion is based on my own personal grief and family losses, and Gretna Green Waltz is a retelling of my biggest heartache. I have noticed readers can tell when you're really putting your heart into a story.

What are your writing weaknesses?

English isn't my first language, which means I have to rely on betas which for me sadly slows me down - I want to be able to just write them and post them otherwise I overthink. I'm also a screenwriter irl, and I noticed a pattern that is another weakness - I always have banger openings, or first acts to my stories/screenplays, but sometimes I don't know the ending and I get lost and hesitant. That's why Gretna Green Waltz was SUCH a surprise - much like Junk, the song that haunts Paul throughout the fic, came to him in one piece, GGW landed in my head as a full story. I wrote it in TWO WEEKS! That NEVER happened before!

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

It really depends on how it's done. If it's 2-3 sentences and they're simple I assume the readers will Google Translate it. Jinglebell stands out as someone who did it really well in multi-chapter fic that's all about Sherlock discovering that John is a polyglot, so it can be done well.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Johnlock (for which I started writing during covid in 2020), although as a reader it was TXF, back in in 90s and early 2000s.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

The X-Files. I've had a Scully character study in my head for years that I just can't get right.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

With Johnlock it would have to be the now-abandoned Turned, and mclennon it would be Gretna Green Waltz. I am very proud of both.

Tagging @menlove, @discordantwords, @saint-mona, @totallysilvergirl @m1ssunderstanding @slippinmickeys @kettykika78 @agrlsname @arwamachine @calaisreno @aggressivewhenstartled and anyone who sees this who wants to participate :)

[the-thieves-gambit]

Our usual. Those words bothered her in a way she couldn't identify, maybe because there was a usual. A routine of sorts that had developed between the two. She would have to correct that, as much as she was kidding about finding him a girlfriend while he was gone, she'd have to consider doing it to make sure that would break this up. He wouldn't be able to hang out around her office all the time if she set him up with someone else to occupy his time with. Though for some reason, it made her a bit sad that he wouldn't be around as much once she did.

Sipping from her coffee, she noticed the way he bit his lip and raised a questioning eyebrow. What was so funny? but she dared not ask glad that he had changed the topic to his case. "Hmm. I'm sure with you they'll have their shit solved in no time. Just need someone that knows what they're doing. Thanks," she made a sound between a clicking of her teeth and a sigh as she thought about it. "I don't do divorce things, never have but I don't know. I felt bad when she came to me, I was her last resort. He's a cop and making her life hell," shrugging she put her mug down" Time to make his one." Thinking it over for a moment, she put the cinnamon sugar back in the cupboard and finished off the coffee as it was. "Hmm," was the respond she gave as she listened to him tell her about his allergy. Genetic. Well that sucked.

"Please don't." She held her hand up. She loved Dolly, the thought of her barking until she ate made her anxious. "I do eat," she began to say a bit faster than usual as she came up with a lie. Words spilling faster than they ever had before out of her. "I just haven't gone grocery shopping. I usually have a lot of food around, fruit too, this case just has taken a lot of my attention right now. Please, don't have her do that. I'll be eating a lot when she's here after this disposition I'm going out for groceries." Hoping that it would be enough to have him drop the matter.

"Oh, thanks." The words were said with surprise. Someone had to find comfort in it. There were times when it couldn't lull her to sleep. When it would bring the nightmares on instead of help. "You didn't have to do that but thanks. I'm glad you were able to get comfortable."

There he went again, we. That is where we're gonna go. He was so sure in including her,like it was a guarantee that it was happening and she would be a part of it. "It sounds lovely." She didn't want to add that it would be a shame that she wouldn't see it, seeing as when he got back, she'd have him occupied with a shiny new person when he returned. That was neither here nor there, no one would miss her once she got her replacement hired and the office fully up and running. She would once again be that person someone vaguely remembered once. "Wildfire," she repeated with a smile. "Now that sounds like a horse that would definitely kick me."

As much as she thought about getting rid of him from her life, when it was time for them to part now she felt the odd sensation of missing him already. Shaking it off, she nodded. "Great, I'll be waiting. And you have my word," she held up three fingers on one hand, despite never having been a scout. "I'll walk you out, gotta unlock the door for the Holden's anyway." Though he had tucked one side in, she couldn't help it, just like last night, and reached over and tucked the other side in too. "There, even. Better." Holding the door open for him, she gave him a small smile. "Have a safe trip and again thanks for letting me borrow Dolly for the week. I'll watch over her well. Promise. "

As if to give her confirmation he merely nodded his head and chuckled. "Gotta choose your words wisely around me. I find loopholes." Wally kid just enjoying his time with her in her kitchen. "Gotta admit this is quite a change from our usual. I actually like it." Shaking his head he didn't want to inconvenience her. "No, it's okay. Poptart is fine. Though the fact you know I like toast and jelly is freaking me out a bit. Not in a bad way." he added not wanting to make her feel like he was mad or anything. "It's usually me who notices things. I'm glad you didn't say peanut butter and jelly." His hand did the kaput gesture and laughed to himself.

He nodded as he kept chewing and smiled biting down on his lip to keep from laughing. She had the cutest pair of bunny teeth and that made him want to scream. But didn't he kept his composure. "Right? I can only imagine what type of chaos I'll be walking into. Though maybe it won't be that bad. Case hasn't officially closed so maybe I can offer up help after all." Cheating cases made him feel queasy. Never were truly easy so he hoped for her sake that this one would be a breeze. "I hope that it won't get dragged out into court. I know sometimes it's not so black and white but they wouldn't have come to you if they didn't have confidence you could get this case done and over with without the dragged on notions."

There she went again taking him by surprise knowing something so deeply personal that he hadn't noticed she even knew it. "Mhmm. That would be deathly allergic. But I do carry my epipen so if I happened to ingest some I'd be okay. If I didn't have it then we'd be screwed. Don't worry you can put it in your coffee." Just for good measure he scooted over a bit to be a safe distance from it and smiled going back to his poptart. "Unfortunately I got my grandfather's allergy. Skipped my mom but trickled down to us. Mine is the most severe though. My sisters just get itchy."

"You don't eat?" His shock was audible the more he thought about it and shook his head. "I'll have to tell Dolly to come bark at you at breakfast and lunch and dinner so you can have your meals." He'd do that too no lie. Dolly was easily trainable since she was a former K9 in training.

He smiled that smile that told her he was happy she slept well. "I'm glad. Weird thing. I never can sleep in a new place. Can never get comfortable but last night was different. Your bed is heaven though just saying that." Then remember he had made the bed. "Oh that reminds me I made your bed. I didn't want to leave like that and I tucked the ends underneath the mattress." Wally was neat and organized most times and that did go down to the way he made his own bed.

"They do," he laughed thinking the change in topic was peculiar. "They can never sit still. It was a passion project when we all moved to the islands. My sisters loved horses and Di also grew up riding them so Andy went and bought the land and built the ranch ground up." Normally he was the one asking the left field questions. "They have a ranch actually. That is where we're gonna go. It's in Kaneohe. Which is about 2 hours and change from Lahaina to Kaneohe. So, we don't go often only if it's one of the kids birthdays or when we want to make it a weekend thing. Sometimes I go to keep an eye on things. Their ranch hands keep it running. They stay on property. Andy built them a giant house so they didn't need to go back and forth." One thing was certain, they were paid fairly and treated like family. "You'll get to meet them when we go after I come back from LA. Finally will get to meet Wildfire's filly. She's one."

He pulled his hair behind his ear and shot her a grin. "Good luck." As she said that his phone dinged telling him he was to be headed to the air field. "Actually, perfect timing. I'm gonna head off. I got Jamie to agree to bring Dolly to you before dinner and bedtime so take care of my furry best friend. Enjoy your week and I'll see you for adventure week." His grin was bright as he hopped off the counter and landed on his feet.

[thunder-wolf64]

Just ranting about something that's been bothering me for yearsss

So I've mentioned my friend before. Ima call her bestie bc that's what she calls me.

I've known bestie for years.. about 7 I think? I met her when I was forced out of my normal lunch table. The most open table was hers. She started talking to me after r few days of this happening.

Bestie and I were friends. She said we were, and I needed friends. Her behavior was far too much for my shy demeanor. She's neurodivergent, and she has no filter. I'd be scared to be associated with her because of how commonly she said things I would never dare whisper. That was mostly a me issue though.

Sometimes I enjoy her company, sometimes I wish she would leave me alone. Being older now, I have a lot more confidence, I've found it easier to tell her off. She still has no filter.

I've found good friends in my high school years. People who i don't feel cautious around, people who is don't get mad at. People i don't have to hush and keep out of trouble. I feel less like me and bestie are friends, let alone BFFs.

She frustrates me, pokes fun at me, and judges me. I'm not supposed to be mad at her, she can't help it. How terrible would i be to leave her or tell her to stop?

We sit together at lunch as of now, we might not soon due to changing schedules. But she's been leaning into me and grabbing my arm for warmth. And I don't like it. I do my best to show my displeasure, encouraging her to let go as I scroll my phone, but really I'm staring into space and freaking out. She lets go eventually, she's not bad or anything. But it upsets me. She's been stealing my food, making me have to be defensive. Earlier this week I was looking forward to eating a rip banana for once, i told her and she grabbed it, I gently pulled it back, not wanting to damage it or anything and she squeezed it, ruining half the banana. After giggling for a while, she apologized. But she's just been pushing boundaries more.

We were walking down the hallway, and i bumped into her a bit instead of another student, I apologized and she started to pretty much shove me with her entire body weight. I didn't want to be shoved into something or someone, so i purposely shoved her back a bit, which apparently was to much for her. She stopped for the moment but would continue to push me and joke about it for the next few days

Everyone thinks she's my best friend, and I can't just leave her. She has had a lot of rough things happen to her. And she's going through some stuff. I think atleast, she's hard to read.

It's just so conflicting. By nature she's not the easiest person to get along with, but she has a valid excuse in my mind. So i feel it's wrong to dislike her most of the time.

Anyways, that's the yap. Nothing horrendous.

[manebioniclegali]

Friendly reminder:

You fundamentally can't make "headcanons" about real life people; there is, really, no "story" that you can read between the lines of and fill in the gaps as if there isn't information there.

What you are doing is speculating; you are taking what information you know and extrapolating it to decide if X person would do Y thing(s), regardless of whether or not the person knew about it or if it even existed at that time. If you are "headcanoning," that implies that the information you state, you are taking as fact, even if it goes against the reality of what happened or who they are/were as a person. You can say "oh I think they'd do XYZ or like XYZ bc of ABC," but painting it as a "headcanon" just feels squicky to me.

(note that there is a difference between just doing this, and making headcanons based on a specific trope that therefore make the person an alternate universe version of themselves, i.e. yandere; there, you're able to headcanon bc that is not how the person is/was irl, so you are able to create a narrative to fit the headcanons into.)

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[bittsandpieces]

Debating starting to limit my orgasms to see if it increases my sensitivity... maybe limit myself to just one a week for a few weeks and see how that goes?? I wanna see if I can get more sensitive and more desperate/depraved because frankly I'm too level headed lately and could use some deranged sexual energy