#wait I should add my friend oc tag

[elecman108]

Went to a Trans Day of Remembrance dinner with my sister and the group was putting together a mural.

Naturally, we both drew our Sonas on it with a pride flag each <3

[yexthiccxa]

Secrets of the Second Shift - (Part 3)

summary: you find out that choso is your mystery man from last weekend (part 2). finding out this news has you turning to an unexpected friend for advice. if this if this is going to work between you two, you need to set some rules. but everyone knows that rules are meant to be broken.

wordcount: 4.9k words

full fic c/w: choso smut, choso/fem!reader, choso/oc, modern!au, some plot, plot what plot, porn with plot, gentleman!choso, soft!choso, praise kink, blindfold sex, oral, fingering, vaginal sex, enemies to lovers, fingering, oral, multiple orgasms

a/n: this chapter is mostly meant to build plot, but it has has a lil banter and fairly mild spice and then some! enjoy! let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this!

Tumblr Master List | Read this chapter on AO3!

✦✧✸✧✦ 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ✦✧✸✧✦

Choso’s words hang in the air as you try to collect your thoughts. Hello my little vixen, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.

You try to respond but the words struggle to leave your mouth. All you can focus on are his dark brown eyes gazing into your soul as if trying to unlock the cage guarding your heart. One moment longer, and you’re terrified he might find the key.

The elevator dings, signaling the lobby.

Before you can even react, Choso releases his hold with casual ease and steps beyond the doors. It’s as if the past few seconds hadn’t completely shifted your entire world.

You follow his lead, lagging shortly behind. “I have so many questions,” you say, trying to keep your voice low in hopes no one would hear you. “But I think it’s probably best if we didn’t talk about it here.”

The lift in his brow is followed by a confident smirk. “Hmm, I guess dinner is on after all?” 

His charm has you wrapped around his finger and you both know it. “I guess you’re right,” you mutter. 

“So quick to agree this time. What happened to not mixing business and pleasure?” he teases.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t resist the small smile that tugs at your lips. “I think we crossed that line a long time ago.”

“Crossed? More like blew right through it…” he jokes, hoping you’d catch his drift. “which felt exceptionally good, I might add. I’ll have to return the favor one of these days.”

You lightly nudge him away, jaw dropping in disbelief. Generally speaking, you’d like to think you’re fairly quick witted, but something tells you that you’ve met your match.

Choso lets out a chuckle— it’s sincere, but just like him it remains effortlessly poised. You’re starting to envy his ability to navigate the tension without breaking a sweat.

“So where do you want to meet for dinner tonight?” you ask.

“I’ll pick you up,” His voice is smooth, almost like he's already settled the matter in his mind.

You arch your brow with a hint of suspicion, “That didn’t really answer my question.”

He stops to brace your shoulders. “Do you trust me?” The look in his eyes makes it hard to say no.

He could either be a serial killer or a completely normal guy who just wants to take you to dinner. Given your existing history, you decide to take your chances. “Fine. But if this backfires, I’m getting appetizers, an entrée, and dessert.”

His confident grin returns. “Oh, I count on it. Let’s say 7?” 

You look down at your phone to check the clock. Hmm, that should be enough time. You nod in agreement and decide to exchange numbers before going your separate ways.

When you get to your car, you feel your phone buzz. Your heart skips a beat when you see the notification across the screen.

Choso: Get home safe, I’ll see you later.

The butterflies in your stomach start to build, but you try not to relish in the moment for two long. While you appreciate the kind farewell, you have other plans—and none of them involve going home.

You’ve found yourself tangled in a mess of your own making, and the only person who can help you now is the one who led you here in the first place. You make a call and wait as it rings on the other end.

When he picks up, you exhale a deep sigh. “Satoru, I need your help. I have…a situation. I’ll be there in 10.”

✦✧✸✧✦

Instead of going home, you find yourself heading to Blinded Bliss to see Satoru. While he’s technically your manager, the two of you have always operated more like friends. And you need advice—desperately.

You push open the door to Satoru’s office without knocking, immediately regretting it.

“Oh my god, seriously?” you groan, covering your face.

You find him tangled up with one of the club’s bouncers in a position that makes you wish you had bleach for your eyes. Lucky for you, you’re friendly with this one too. 

“Hey Suguru didn’t expect to see you here,” you say, your gaze still shifted away.

Suguru chuckles, pulling back slightly. “Someone doesn’t know how to knock.”

You slowly peek between your fingers to see if the coast is clear. “Sorry to interrupt, but did Satoru not tell you I was coming?”

Suguru lifts himself off before making his way to the door. “He had you on speaker, we just lost track of time,” he turns back to Satoru, giving him one final kiss before heading out. “I think this is my sign to leave.”

As Suguru steps out of the office, Satoru casually zips up his slacks like nothing had happened. “This better be good—you don’t even work Mondays. What are you doing here?” 

“Remember, my client from last weekend?” you say, stepping inside despite the awkwardness. “He’s a manager from the company we acquired… which means we now work together. Unfortunately that also means he’ll most likely be the one taking my promotion.” You shut your eyes tight to help relieve the stress.

Satoru leans back in his chair, rolling his eyes as if this was everyday news. “C’mon! I asked for something good!”

The vibrato in his voice brings your focus back.

He continues, “Surprising, sure—but everyone has their guilty pleasures and secrets to hide, even the corporate drones.” Satoru sighs in disappointment. “While I can’t give you work advice, I don’t think you have to worry about him spilling your secret to get ahead. If that’s all, I’m gonna call Suguru back—”

Before he can finish his thought, you add, “And I have a date with him …tonight.”

Satoru whistles low. “Wow.” 

“Yeah, wow,” you agree.

The silence sits between you both while Satoru tries to think, fingers tapping thoughtfully against his chin.

After what feels like a lifetime, he finally speaks, “And this is something you want to do?” His voice is slightly tinged with concern.

You bring your hand to your temple before nodding—trying to sound certain. “Honestly, yeah.” You let out a deep sigh and seat yourself onto the chair in front of his desk.

He cocks an eyebrow, studying you carefully. "This is new for you. I’ve seen you do repeats, take regulars, but only ever inside these walls. Dating in the outside world is a bit… intimate for you, no?”

“I mean, yeah. But…I don’t know what it is. Something keeps pulling me into him, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

Satoru lets out a low, thoughtful hum before speaking. His voice is softer now, “Hmm. “What it is”, is attraction. And that "something” is emotion. No one says you have to stop it.”

You hesitate, a sudden flicker of doubt crossing your face. “But then it gets messy... and complicated.”

His gaze sharpens, and he walks toward you, stopping just in front of where you stand. He softly tilts your head up towards him. "If you know what you want, then set some boundaries. I know you—despite the damsel in distress act you put on in those rooms, we both know you’re a strong woman who gets what she wants."

A small, rueful smile tugs at the corner of your lips, but you look away, ashamed to say what will come out next. “I mean, sure, but what am I going to do about this place? Do I just stop working? Unlike my other job, I actually like it here.”

Satoru raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. He braces your shoulders to comfort you—a move Choso did not long ago. His eyes are determined when he looks at you and says, “Slow down. First and foremost, if you want to keep taking clients, don’t let anyone stop you from doing so. It’s your body, and you can choose what you want to do with it. You can take clients for ten thousand dollars, ten dollars, or zero dollars.”

You exhale and speak, but Satoru doesn't give you a chance to respond, his voice still measured. “But if you don’t want to take clients, it makes no difference to me. Hell, you could just use the room for you and twirly tops for all I care. You and I both know that we don’t do it for the money at this point—although it is a great perk.”

“You have a point there.” Before you can fully process Satoru’s words, you find your brows furrowing when you remember an unexpected phrase. “Wait, did you just call Choso twirly tops ?”

Satoru chuckles, “Yeah, you know, because of the...” He trails off, his hand making an exaggerated motion to outline the ties in Choso’s hair.

You can’t help but laugh. A smile spreads across your face, and you find yourself feeling lighter, even if just for a moment. "I can always count on you—thanks, Satoru."

Satoru waves you off, grinning. "You're welcome! You know I’m always here for you wherever you need it.” He starts to head to his chair before pausing. “…But we both know this would have easily been a phone call. So why did you really come here?"

You glance at the floor for a moment, shifting uncomfortably before lifting your gaze to meet his. “I was wondering if… I could get some clothes from The Vault?”

A mischievous look sweeps across his face. "Absolutely, you don’t even have to ask." He pauses, opening a drawer to hand you a set of keys. "But let me just say—if this guy has you eyeing The Vault…” His grin morphs into something almost wicked as he steps closer and lowers his voice, “…You. Are. Fucked.”

You laugh, but a nagging feeling in the back of your mind tells you that Satoru might be right.

As you two make your way over to The Vault, your mind begins to wonder if this is the right move. You take a deep breath and instinctively tap the space between your thumb and pointer finger to soothe your anxious thoughts. Remember, you try to tell yourself, no matter what path you’ve chosen, the stars will always align for you.

Before you know it, you’ve reached another set of platinum double doors.

Satoru dubs The Vault as his secret “supply room” (cough, sex shop) tucked away in Blinded Bliss. It’s a treasure trove filled with outfits, costumes, lingerie, toys and any sex related thing your heart desires. Typically this room is only reserved for long standing regulars to shop at before their appointments, but Satoru will always make an exception for you. 

When you step inside, Satoru follows, already rifling through the racks.

“Do you have anything here that says ‘I’m interested but not desperate?” You ask.

Satoru pulls a black leather form fitting dress from the rack. Absolutely not. It’s beautiful and very sexy, but a little too sexy for a casual Monday dinner.

“Immediate pass, Satoru! It’s just one meal, not a masterclass in submission !” 

“Oh sorry, let me just go over here to the Sexy Sunday Service aisle,” he teases, rolling his eyes.

You laugh, but he actually directs you to a set of more modest outfits. “Oh you’re serious.”

Both of you are sifting through the items before Satoru pulls out another one. “How about this one?” he asks, showcasing a corduroy mini dress that’s easy enough to dress down, yet fitted enough to perfectly accentuate your curves.

“You know, this is actually perfect. Thanks!”

He brings you in for a hug, and the security of his embrace relaxes you. “No problem, baby girl. Kill it tonight, I expect a full debrief on Friday.”

You slightly pull away, “Right, Friday…” your tone is filled with uncertainty.

Satoru gives you a reassuring look before bringing you back in. “If you come in …of course, no pressure.”

After locking up The Vault, Satoru walks you to your car. You fight the initial urge to check your phone to see if you’ve gotten any additional messages from Choso. When you plug your phone into the car wire, you’re disappointed to see that none are there.

You make it back home with an hour to spare and use the remaining time to freshen up and get ready. At 6:45pm, you see your phone illuminate on the bathroom counter with two new messages. Your body can’t help but be giddy at the sight.

Choso: leaving now

Choso: be there in 15

You’re all done up with 5 minutes left, and catch a final glimpse of your reflection in the hallway mirror. Your outfit hugs you in all the right places and your makeup is effortlessly on point—but still, it feels like too much .

“It’s just dinner,” you mutter to yourself, pacing back toward your room. “Why am I trying so hard?”

The urge to change into something simpler tugs at you, but before you can make a move, the sound of your ringtone fills the hallway. You glance at the screen: Choso.

You answer on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Just wanted to let you know I’m downstairs,” he says smoothly, his voice laced with that casual confidence you’re starting to recognize. “No rush though, I’m a little early. Sorry.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you give yourself a quick once-over in the mirror. Go hard or go home I guess. “Be right down,” you reply, grabbing your bag before heading out.

When you step outside, you see Choso leaning against the side of his car. When you make your way over to him, you say, “Didn’t expect you to be here so soon. Looks like someone couldn’t wait to see me.”

Your mere presence triggers a primal instinct that he can’t control. Without warning, Choso grabs you by the waist, his hand slowly trailing downward. When his fingers graze the skin near the hem of your dress, you feel a tightness building in your core.

He pulls you into him until you’re pressed against his firm chest and your leg meets the bulge growing in his pants. “Oops…guess I’m not the only one who can’t wait.”

“Very funny,” you reply. Before you pull away, your gaze locks into him. You want to stay in this moment just a little bit longer. When your eyes trail down to his lips, you find your thoughts running off to the dirtiest part of your mind. You don’t stop it though. Instead you let it consume you until you’re inches away from tasting him.

You stop your momentum just short of a kiss to see if Choso will take the bait. To your surprise he challenges every muscle in his body to show restraint. Such a gentleman.

You smile, rewarding him the only way you know how.

It feels like eternity until your lips finally meet, but when they do they crash together like endless tides being pulled by a full moon.

“Seems you couldn’t wait either,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with amusement as he pulls away slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

You shift your gaze away, slightly embarrassed by the wave of passion that took over you.

He places his hand against your cheek to guide your focus back to him. “Shall we go to dinner?”

You smile and nod before he opens up the passenger door and gestures to get inside. “Your chariot awaits.”

You slide into the seat, the faint scent of leather and his cologne mixing in the air. As he gets in and starts the engine, he casts a quick glance your way. “You look great, by the way,” he mentions.

“Thanks,” you reply, smoothing the fabric of your outfit. “I was a little worried I might be overdressed.”

He smirks, his eyes briefly darting toward you. “Oh trust me you are overdressed,” he starts, placing his hand firmly across your thigh. You feel the goosebumps sweep across your skin. “I’d rather see you in nothing at all.”

Your mouth falls open slightly as you turn to him, “You are quite the comedian aren’t you?”

“I prefer to call it charming,” he quips, shooting you a grin. “You don’t like it?”

You shake your head with a soft laugh. “On the contrary, I think I like it …maybe a little too much.”

“Hate to say I told you so,” he replies smoothly, remembering his words from Friday night.

The 15 minute drive goes fairly quick, but confusion begins to set in when you see Choso slow down into a residential area. Your stomach twists when he parks in front of an apartment building, killing the engine.

“Where are we?” you ask.

“Dinner,” he says simply, nodding toward the building.

He invited you to his apartment for dinner? As the thought crosses your mind, all you can hear is Satoru’s voice ringing through your head: if you know what you want, then set some boundaries.

You take a deep breath and turn to face Choso, your brows furrowed in thought. “Listen, Choso, I hope you don’t get the wrong idea when I say this, but if we’re trying to keep things from getting messy, we need boundaries,” you begin, your voice steady despite the nerves bubbling beneath. “As much as I would love to repeat Friday, I think apartments should be off-limits. It’s too—”

Before you can finish, Choso grabs your hand to keep you from spiraling. His grip is gentle but firm, grounding you instantly. “While I am flattered that you also have an interest in continuing where we left off, I am offended that you think I just brought you here to fuck you.” The humor in his voice pulls you back to center.

Heat rises to your face as you look away, flustered.

Choso keeps his focus set on you before continuing. “Listen to me when I say that I will respect your boundaries. But since I’m new here, I haven’t tried many restaurants yet. I didn’t want to fuck up my first shot by bringing you to a shitty place so I brought you somewhere I knew would be good.”

His sincerity catches you off guard, and your heart skips a beat. You blink, momentarily stunned, before managing to reply, “That’s… so sweet of you. I appreciate that.”

Choso’s smirk grows into a genuine smile as he releases your hand. “Now if your mind is at ease,” he says, gesturing towards the door, “we’re one lobby, and 25 floors away from a delicious meal and a conversation full of answers. Will you please accept this offer of entering my apartment, just this once?”

You hesitate for a moment, but the earnestness in his voice makes it hard to say no.

“Fine,” you concede, shaking your head lightly, “just this once.”

✦✧✸✧✦

When you get off the elevator on the 25th floor, the smell of something rich and savory fills the hallway. The scent grows stronger as you get closer to his apartment. After he opens the door and gestures to you inside, you notice two plates set with silverware on the dining table across the room.

“It smells amazing, you cook?” you ask, as you’re taking off your boots by the door.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Choso quips back, heading toward the kitchen. “Did you think I brought you here just to order take out?”

You follow his lead. “No… but I mean, you kind of strike me as the bland chicken and broccoli type.”

“Well, we both should know by now that looks can be deceiving,” he says, turning on the oven to heat up the food. He pulls out a bottle of wine from a shelf. “Care for a drink while we wait?”

After you give him a nod, he tells you to make yourself comfortable. You settle into a cozy spot on the couch and he joins you shortly after, handing you a glass of red.

Without hesitation, he jumps straight into it. “We both have questions, but please—ladies first.”

You take a sip before setting your glass down on the side table. “Ok, for starters… What brings a guy like you to a place like Blindness Bliss? You seem like you’re perfectly capable of getting anyone you’d like without having to pay for it.”

Choso pauses to collect his thoughts. “My friend Kento actually referred me there. He mentioned that he visits from time to time when he’s in town. Kento knew I had just come off of a tough week before moving here and he suggested I try it out to blow off some steam. I initially resisted, but he kept insisting and finally told me that he paid for the night. At that point I had to go.”

Kento? Never heard of him. I’ll have to ask Satoru about him one day, you think to yourself.

Choso shifts closer to you, his arm draping over your shoulder in a casual, confident movement. He puts his glass down and leans in just a little—his voice dropping to a quieter, more intimate tone. “...but seeing how things have turned out, I have no regrets.”

He slowly moves to kiss you between your neck and shoulder. “And I’d do it again.”

His kisses drift closer to your lips before you’re face to face. “...and again.”

“...and again.”

You feel the heat immediately rise to your cheeks. You can’t decide if it’s the alcohol or the feeling of his lips against your skin. Before he can reach your mouth, your finger presses against his lips to give him pause. “I believe it’s your turn to ask a question.”

Choso pulls back smiling, accepting your challenge. “Well, I could ask the same for you. Why the second shift? We both have the same position at work, which means I can assume that you don’t do it for the cash.”

You give yourself the space to think. “Well, you are right about that. It may have started out that way, but I guess I just kept doing it because I liked the way it made me feel. I spend so much time trying to prove myself at Zenin Tech, especially reporting to Naoya. It’s like I always need to keep hustling otherwise I’ll never make progress or get anywhere.” You sink into your seat and release a deep sigh. “It’s exhausting.”

Choso listens with undivided attention, absorbing every word without interruption or question.

You slowly pick yourself back up, directing your attention back to him. “But when I’m at Blinded Bliss, it’s the complete opposite. Over there I don’t need to claw my way to the top or earn respect, I already have it. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. I don’t know how he does it, but Satoru makes it easy for us. He truly only lets in the best of the best. So consider yourself lucky.”

Choso perks back up. “Satoru?” he asks before the realization sets in. “Ahh, yes. The guy who—”

“Oh no, wait… please don’t worry about him,” you interject quickly, holding your hands up in defense. “That thing that we did, it’s all just for show. There’s nothing between us. It’s just part of the gig, I swear.”

Choso stops your movements, his palm gently pressing against your cheek.“Hey, it’s okay—no need to get your defenses up. It's your body— what you do with it and who you choose to do it with is all up to you.”

Your jaw hangs open—savoring every last word that just left his mouth.

The moment your eyes meet, everything else in the room fades away. You feel the tension grow heavy between you while the electricity from his touch draws you both closer. 

You’re close—maybe a little too close, maybe not close enough.

Once again you’re face to face but this time all you can think about is how he makes your heart race without even trying.

Before Choso leans in, he gives you one last look—it’s a look of passion and desire. It’s a look that aims to claim you the first chance he gets. He stares intently into your eyes before he whispers, “But just so you’re aware, if there’s ever another opportunity for me to be one of those people, just know I will always say yes.”

The moment stands still.

Every inch between you feels like an eternity, and you want to do everything in your power to change that.

Within moments, it finally hits. Your hands slip to the back of his neck as you crash your lips into his, planting open mouthed kisses and claiming every part of his tongue. He follows your lead, his movements are urgent and unrelenting—as if he’s been keeping himself restrained for far too long.

Without a second thought, your hands find their way to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt to deepen the kiss. He uses the momentum to climb on top of you until his frame pins you against the cushions, back arching to feel the warmth of his body consume you.

As he moves his mouth down the side of your neck, you take the moment to continue your thoughts—still giving in to the heat of the moment. “This brings us... to a great point." Your breath becomes slightly labored. "I meant what I said earlier... about boundaries.” Every kiss he plants on you makes it harder to speak.

Choso breaks in between kisses to say, “Yes, boundaries. I’m listening.” He slips one strap off your shoulder and pulls the neckline down just far enough to expose your breast.

“We keep our work lives and personal lives separate.” A breathy moan escapes you when his lips reach your nipple.

“Agreed,” his replies are brief but affirmative. All he can focus on is tasting every last bit of you.

The way his hands graze down your side are too distracting. To get out your remaining thoughts, you push yourselves back up completely, narrowing your eyes slightly to make your point clear. “I take back what I said earlier today about us being enemies, but that doesn’t mean I am going to back down and let Naoya hand you this promotion on a silver platter. So everything in that office is strictly professional —got it?”

He pauses for a moment, as if he’s etching every word you said into his brain. He replies with a nod to confirm. “Professional. Loud and clear. Anything else?”

“I’ve already let this slide once, but after tonight—no apartments. It’s too intimate, and we need to keep this clean.” Or as clean as it can be.

Now you’ve piqued his interest. Choso tilts his head in confusion, but doesn’t let that stop his hand from trailing towards your waist. “Hmm you have a fair point… but if apartments are off limits and the office is strictly professional, any suggestions for a neutral zone?”

Before you answer, you let his touch guide you—bringing you on top of him until you’re straddling his waist. You pull yourself towards him before you whisper, “Let’s just say I know of a place with platinum doors, that’s private enough for us to feel alone, and equipped with everything we’ll need to have a good time.”

You grind yourself into him but this time you set the pace. It’s slow—excruciatingly slow for Choso, but deliciously playful for you. “I’m currently taking offers for regulars…well, just one.”

His hands find your ass and grips you tightly, allowing his bulge to press against your clit. “Keep talking.”

You let out a quiet moan when he slips his hand underneath your dress. “...and if I like them enough it’ll be free of charge.”

For a moment, you pause—remembering his offer from earlier. “but if I recall, you did mention something about returning a favor.”

Choso returns your comment with a wicked smile before hooking his fingers into your panties, “I did say that, didn’t I?”

He finds his way to your center, teasing you with the wetness that pooled below. His fingers graze against your folds, wiping up the mess you made between your legs and you can’t help your breath as it begins to falter.

“F-fuck, Cho—” you manage to get out.

Choso wraps his arms firmly around you and sets you back down on the couch. He sets himself up to pull down your panties, alternating kisses between your inner thighs.

You feel a rush of desire dripping from your folds. "The last time you had your mouth around me, you made me feel so good.” he whispers. “Can’t wait until I get my mouth on your wet little pussy and make you feel the same.”

His breath, his touch—it drives you wild. Why does being here feel so wrong, but being with him feels so right?

As he slowly moves closer and closer to your core every nerve in your body lights up—

…Until you hear a jarring noise pierce through the room.

Beep. beep. beep. The sound of the oven timer blares from the kitchen, snapping you back to reality.

Choso pauses—looking back up at you until he processes what’s happening. When it finally clicks, he gives you a quick kiss to your clit before securing your panties back in place.

No, please—stay, your dirty mind begs.

Choso smoothly picks himself up, leaving you dumbfounded when he acts like the last few minutes never happened.

He extends his hand to help you up, but you can still see a glint of fire in his eyes. His tone is playful when he cocks his brow and says, “Well, I guess we need dinner before we get to dessert.”

--

taglist: @jud3thedude @makingtimemine @chosslut @liiiacke @trishiepo0 @celestialforce

[smoooothoperator]

Rewrite The Stars

00: Prologue

Lando Norris x surgeon!OC (Lyra Montgomery)

runnaway bride, forbidden love, destinated lovers, love triangle, second chance, road trip

a/n: Are you guys excited to get into this new story? Because I'm so excited to show you this story!!

next part

If you want to be tagged don't forget to message me!

Every way of feedback is very welcomed

🩺

I have always known exactly what my life was supposed to look like.

From the moment I stepped into my first anatomy class, from the first time I stitched skin back together, from the first night I stayed awake in the trauma bay, I understood the path that had been laid out for me.

Surgeon. Like my father. Like my mother. Like my siblings.

A Montgomery.

And now, with the weight of my engagement ring pressing against my skin, I had one more title to add to my carefully built life.

Fiancée.

Soon-to-be wife.

The future Mrs. Davis.

A soft laugh escapes my lips as I glance across the ballroom, my fingers curling around the crystal champagne flute in my hand. The engagement party is in full swing, and everything about tonight feels like it’s been taken from the pages of some perfect love story movie.

The city skyline stretches beyond the glass walls, London twinkling in the distance. The hum of conversation blends with the soft notes of a string quartet in the corner.

It’s elegant. Sophisticated. Everything my mother wanted when she helped plan the party.

And at the center of it all, standing across the room in a tailored navy suit, is Edward.

My fiancé.

The man I love.

His blond hair is neatly styled, his sharp features relaxed as he listens to one of my father’s colleagues. But as if sensing my gaze, he looks up, his dark eyes locking onto mine.

A smile tugs at his lips. The smile that still makes my heart skip a beat.

I don’t wait for him to come to me, I move first, weaving through the crowd, murmuring polite greetings to family friends and hospital board members.

When I finally reach him, his hand finds the small of my back, pulling me effortlessly into his space.

“Having fun, Dr. Montgomery?” he murmurs, amusement in his tone.

I roll my eyes at the use of my last name, even though I secretly love the way he says it. 

“Immensely.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe a little.” I smirked.

His hand tightens around my waist, and when he leans in, his breath is warm against my ear. 

“Let’s run away.”

“My mother would kill us.” I laughed.

“Worth it.”

I shake my head, resting my forehead against his shoulder for a brief moment, breathing him in. He smells like home.

My mother would call him the perfect match, and for once, she would be right. 

So why do I feel like something is missing?

The thought comes out of nowhere, like an uninvited guest slipping into the party. I try to shake it off by drinking a small sip from the flute glass, to let the champagne and laughter drown it out, but suddenly, I find myself scanning the crowd.

Looking for someone who isn’t here.

I exhale, forcing myself to focus as my father raises his glass, commanding the room’s attention.

“To the future of the Montgomery legacy” he says proudly. “Lyra, my brilliant daughter. Edward, the man we are proud to welcome into our family. This marriage is more than a union of two people. It is a symbol of trust, history, and the bright future of the Montgomery Memorial Hospital.”

A round of applause follows. 

And yet, I can’t ignore the emptiness creeping in at the edges of my happiness.

I know what, or rather who, it is.

Lando.

He should be here. He was supposed to be here.

For years, we talked about this moment, jokingly, then seriously. He always swore he would be at my wedding, standing in the front row, probably making some inappropriate joke under his breath to make me laugh.

But he’s not here.

And I don’t know why now that suddenly matters so much.

Edward’s fingers lace through mine as the speeches continue, his thumb brushing absently against my skin. I let myself sink into the warmth, the familiarity, the certainty.

This is the life I have always known I would have. This is the man I will marry.

This is everything I want.

Isn’t it?

🏎️

I shouldn’t care.

I should be happy for her. That’s what best friends do, right? They show up, they smile, they make stupid speeches about how they always knew this was meant to be.

But I can’t.

The wedding invitation has been sitting on the table of the living room for weeks, unopened. I don’t need to read it. I already know what it says.

Lyra Montgomery &  Edward Davis request the honor of your presence…

I let out a slow breath, gripping the railing of my balcony as I stare out at the city lights below. Monaco is beautiful this time of night, but the view feels empty.

Because she’s not here.

I shouldn’t be surprised. Lyra was always going to end up with someone like Edward. Someone perfect. Someone steady. Someone her family approved of. Someone that wouldn’t risk everything by getting in a car.

Still, knowing that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Fourteen years.

That’s how long I’ve loved her.

Fourteen years since I met her in the halls of our high school when we were both twelve, when she was the only girl who ever managed to shut me up.

Fourteen years of friendship. Of late night calls, of her showing up at my races, of me sitting with her while she studied.

Fourteen years of wanting more. Of almost saying something. Of swallowing it down every single time because I was terrified of losing her.

And now, I have lost her anyway.

A sharp laugh escapes me, bitter and quiet. 

Maybe I already did. And the worst is that I can’t remember why we grew apart.

She hasn’t called. Not about the engagement. Not to check in. Not even to ask if I’m coming to the wedding. One day the invitation arrived to my mail, without a warning.

That’s what stings the most. Because once upon a time, she promised I would be there and give me the invitation herself.

We used to talk about it. She used to say I would be the one making her laugh right before she walked down the aisle. That she would be the one rolling her eyes at my terrible speech during the reception. That no matter what happened, I would always be there.

But then Edward came, erasing me from her life.

Edward got her.

I exhale, running a hand through my hair, trying to shove the thoughts away. It shouldn’t matter anymore.

I shouldn’t go.

It would be easier to stay away, to pretend this doesn’t bother me, to let her marry the man she loves.

But I’ve never been good at staying away from her.

And a part of me, the reckless and selfish part, wants to see her one last time.

Because if I have to lose her, I at least want to know if she ever felt even a fraction of what I’ve felt for her all these years.

Even if it kills me.

taglist

@alltoomaples @helvegen-s @leptitlu @mendes-bae @cmleitora @elisysd

[hyuneskkami]

02 ✦ pushing me further, pulling me closer, some sorta chemistry ? ༄.°

𝒽wang hyunjin x f!reader

masterlist . . . ✰

𓆩♡𓆪 𝒶n : hdjwjdjjs this part took a while to post even tho I had all the content ready, sorryyyy 😭🙏 also the fluff in this chapter is so cute, if I do say so myself hehe. look forward to the next chapter too (: ! plus, since this series is only a five-part fic, everything is much more fast paced than I wanted it to be. so i’ll probably end up writing bonus scenes for backstories or the aftermath of the ending (: anywayy, hope you enjoy mls ilysm <3 thanks for reading 🩶

𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌arnings + tags : oc (jae-won) to add some drama , oc (ae-ri) : y/n’s best friend at her school , fake dating , hyune and reader attend prep school , holding hands , swearing a little bit (‘bitch’) , name-calling (‘loser’) , mention of hyune meeting reader’s parents , unserious talks about marriage and blessings , best friend!hyunjin , non-idol au , high school au , f!reader , best friends who do more-than-best-friends things , fluff , smart!hyune x smart!reader , cutesy hand holding , banter ;

𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌c : 0.9k

DAY #02 . . .

the next day, hyunjin told me he was going on a trip with his family, so he wouldn’t come to prep school. I wondered if I should just attend my classes online since he won’t be there anyway.

I quickly texted him an hour before I left for prep school.

‘so, you aren’t coming today?’

he didn’t read my message even by the time I was leaving for prep school, so I just assumed he had no internet, wherever he was.

I decided to attend my classes offline since the other guys would be there too.

I walked to prep school with my earphones in, playing my ‘anti-romantic’ playlist, wondering how my imaginary boyfriend would walk with me everyday, if I had one.

about 10 minutes after the class settled down, hyunjin ran into class. he looked at me as soon as he entered, and I opened my mouth in a look of betrayal.

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna come! I almost didn’t come today because of that!” I whisper-yelled at him, as he unzipped his bag, taking his seat beside me.

“‘course I came. I couldn’t miss seeing your pretty face, now, could I?” he smirked at me, and class continued.

our physics and biology lectures ended soon enough, and all of us walked down the stairs to the ground floor.

we stood outside the building, talking and laughing, like always, as we waited for each of our friends to get picked up by their parents, because they lived farther away.

felix, who lives closer that the others, split ways from us soon, as we began walking home.

hyunjin always drops me home before walking to his house, because he lives just a little farther than I do, and my house was on the way to his.

as we were walking to my house, one of the new kids from our school, jae-won, who my friends thought liked me, was also behind us. he lived in the same apartment as I did, and went to the same prep school too, just for different classes.

he was always kind of weird, though, and definitely did not understand the concept personal space whatsoever. and I did not like him at all. I told hyunjin the same thing, twice, before. he also thought jae-won was creepy.

“you know what we should do?” hyunjin whispered to me.

I had thought about it a few times before and wondered if I should really ask hyunjin the question i’d been meaning to.

“what if we… fake date… just in front of jae-won?” I asked.

“I was literally just thinking the exact same thing,” he grinned at me. I smiled in relief. “I have the practical experience, and you have so much of the theory experience, don’tcha?”

I gasped at his mention of my binge reading era of romance novels with the fake dating tropes. he truly did know me at my weirdest moments, huh.

something also itched in my brain at his mention of ‘practical experience’. I knew he had one bitchy girlfriend before, and I knew what they were up to, but still.

he suddenly held my hand, glancing over his shoulder to make sure jae-won was still watching, and started swinging our hands together. way too much.

“oi! you’re gonna break my ball and socket joint!” I yelled, as he swung our arms in circles.

“oh, smartypants! stop studying so much,” he complained at my use of ‘ball and socket joint’ instead of just ‘shoulder’.

“not my fault we just studied that, like, five minutes ago,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.

jae-won caught up with us in a while, and hyunjin whispered to me, smiling, “he probably saw all that.”

I hope he did.

jae-won stepped into the elevator and waited for me.

“oh, she’ll come later, you can go. good night,” hyunjin smiled, and jae-won nodded quietly, letting the automatic door close.

as soon as the doors closed, we both burst out laughing.

the next elevator was taking too long to come down, so we decided to walk up eight floors to my house.

such a bad idea.

“I should never have stopped going for my athletics classes,” I whined.

“how are you already tired? we’re literally still at the 3rd floor!” he laughed.

“shut up!”

he pulled our hands together, lacing his fingers through mine. “you don’t even know how to hold hands,” he rolled his eyes.

“excuse me, I hold hands with ae-ri everyday,” I said. he rolled his eyes again, and continued talking as if I never spoke. loser.

“you know that prank? one day i’d propose to you, and you’d think it was a joke, but i’d be serious? and then you’d say ‘yes’ and we’d end up being legally married?” he said, laughing.

“oh my god! that’s literally the plot of a book I saw on instagram!” I said, and explained a book plot to him.

the whole time our fingers were interlaced, I almost forgot about it.

we reached the eighth floor, and I said, “you should come say hi to my mum. she hasn’t seen you in two weeks. it’s the weekend anyway, come on. you’ll need my parents’ blessings if you wanna get married to me anyway,” I smirked.

“oh, i’m coming, fine, but don’t worry. I know I already have their blessings,” he smirked back at me. I mumbled a ‘whatever’ and rang my door bell.

the next 20 minutes were spent in conversation between my parents and him about how studies were going, and slowly the topic of the conversation shifted to the latest movies being released.

I could get used to this sight forever, I thought.

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kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

[wide-nose-and-wonderful]

Hello my fellow Black People. How y’all feelin’ Good? Good. So I had this idea. As a way to contribute to the celebration of us this month, I thought a little monthly challenge might be fun. Let this be our opportunity to really show each other some support and love. How are we gonna do that? Well I'm glad you asked. I present to you the Black History Reader Challenge, tumblr edition? What that means is for the entire month I want black readers or black reader/writers to challenge themselves to search tags, ask around, check blogs and find some x black reader coded fics to read and leave comments on. That means you will be choosing 5 or 10 (if you really want to challenge yourself)  black writers on this platform to comment on their work, then leave a nice little excerpt about why we should check out the fic. 

Not only are you providing them encouragement and love with the comment you are leaving on their stories, but you are also shedding light on their beautiful works for others to check out. While it’s totally fine to choose your friends and give them a shout out, it’s also cool to find a writer you haven’t read yet and see what they got. The idea here is connection and interaction. Getting to know one another through the lovely stories we tell as black writers here on tumblr. When you’ve gotten your 5 or 10 selections you would like to highlight, please reblog this post and add your findings as an attachment so we can keep a running chain. 

Please see below on how this should look. 

Writers URL:  Title of Work You Read: (make sure you link) But did you leave a comment?  Why do you recommend it?

Here are mine to kick us off. 

Writers URL: @kumkaniudaku

Title of Work You Read: Saints And Sinners

But did you leave a comment? ☑️ 

Why do you recommend it? The Saint and Sinners Series. Yeah y’all know I read it, I mean look at my blog. Crazy about Franklin. This was such a good read I was sad to see it end. I was like no, this can’t be it! The writer really did a good job of writing transitions, and she really conveyed the characters well. The whole time  I felt like it was watching an episode of the TV show. Oh yeah I was totally invested. Franklin was everything in this, and you’ll dig the OC Dorianne also. She fits right in with the dynamic. This was just really fun. I hope we get to see a continuation one day.

-Wide Nose And Wonderful / Mrs. Saint Writes.

2. Writers URL: @twistedcharismaaa

Title of Work You Read: Contemplating….

But did you leave a comment? ☑️ 

Why do you recommend it? This was very soulful. That’s the best way to describe it. Like sitting and listening to spoken word. This writer took this story and explored it through a third person perspective. So by doing that we were in Lakeith’s head, and seeing things through his eyes. We got to see how he felt, what he saw, it was just a really good read.

-Wide Nose And Wonderful / Mrs. Saint Writes.

3. Writers URL: @megamindsecretlair

Title of Work You Read: Camp Wanderlust 

But did you leave a comment? ☑️

Why do you recommend it? Well, for one I think the concept of doing something pre Snowfall was brilliant, and the fact that we have a camp story that features an all black cast pretty much, that’s awesome because when do you ever see us doing that? Also, if you love Franklin Saint as much as I do, then getting to experience him in that little bubble of safety and innocence is everything. He’s just enjoying his life as a young man, flirting and having a good time. The series has gotten off to a promising start and I can’t wait to see where this writer takes it. 

-Wide Nose And Wonderful / Mrs. Saint Writes.

4. Writers URL: @notapradagurl7

Title of Work You Read: Could've Been

But did you leave a comment? ☑️ 

Why do you recommend it? I liked this fic for the simple fact I knew it would probably be one of its kind. What do I mean by that? Well with the low amount of Franklin Saint fanfics, Leon fics is like come on now, not a chance. I saw this and it made me happy. It was nice to see Little Leon get some shine too. I have a thing for characters that don’t get much spotlight. Sometimes they are the best ones depending on the genre, but I loved seeing this pop up.

-Wide Nose And Wonderful / Mrs. Saint Writes.

5. Writers URL: @slippinninque

Title of Work You Read: You Learned To Like Pretty Things Too

But did you leave a comment? ☑️ 

Why do you recommend it? Everyone is on this TCT kick, and I finally got around to reading one after being tagged. I was like okay okay, I can see what the fuss is. Hey I liked Fontaine, the whole crew actually. But this was a nice read because we got to see a softer Fontaine taking care of his girl and just being in the moment. It was sweet. Might have to check out some more Fontaine fics now. Make sure you give it a read! 

-Wide Nose And Wonderful / Mrs. Saint Writes.

Yay! Got my five, but the month is not over so I plan to get another 5. Happy readings everyone! And again happy Black History Month And Always My People!

No pressure Tags: @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7 @slippinninque @fairy-cores-world

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 25: Gareth

Word Count: 995

Rating: T

Pairing: Slight Gareth x OC

CW: None

Summary: Gareth’s little sister is a pain in the ass when it comes to the band, but ends up being a pretty good wingman.

Have to tag @the-unforgivenn because this is her man 💕

@corrodedcoffinfest

When the band first started practicing in his garage, Gareth loved it. Now, he thinks he’d rather rehearse in goddamn Jason Carver’s bedroom. 

Initially, he’d worried that his mom would be the one to interrupt them, with her tendency to ask if anyone is hungry. Gareth would kill for his mom to be the problem now. At least he would be able to talk some sense into her. 

“Why can’t I just sit on the couch and watch?!”

“Because you never stay quiet! You always bother us.”

“I do not! They don’t think I bother you! Right, guys?”

Both Emerson siblings turn to look at Eddie, Jeff, and Frank. The three Corroded Coffin members are caught between a rock and a hard place. 

Gareth is fuming; his nostrils flaring, and his fists clenched around his drumsticks. Fourteen-year-old Olivia stares with wide green eyes, hands on her hips as she waits for a response from her big brother’s friends. 

“Uh…” Eddie starts, eyes moving from left to right to see if the band member on either side of him is going to speak up. But no dice. “We, um, we… Jeff?”

Out of the three of them, Jeff has the thinnest tightrope to walk, and Eddie knows it. But he also knows that Olivia is apt to do whatever Jeff says since he’s the reason she wants to sit in on practice anyway. Doesn’t stop Jeff from wanting to wring his neck, though. 

“Well,” Jeff starts, clearing his throat before he continues, “do you think you can stay quiet this time, Olivia?”

Irritation flashes in Gareth’s eyes, while Olivia gives her best smile and bats her eyelashes. 

“Yes!” 

She bounces over to the raggedy couch in the corner while Gareth rolls his eyes and heads towards his drum set. 

Olivia does manage to stay quiet until the end of rehearsals but that somehow annoys Gareth even more. She’ll hold that over his head as a reason to sit in practices more often. 

But as much as that bothers Gareth, it’s nothing compared to what his little sister announces once they’re done. 

“Mom said I can go with you guys to your show next week.”

“What?”

“Well, I can’t go when you guys play at the bar,” Olivia drawls, as if her brother is stupid. 

“But this…this isn’t even our show. It’s Roane County’s Battle of the Bands,” Gareth says. 

“Whatever. Mom still said I can go.”

Gareth runs his hands over his face in frustration and turns to his friends. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to my mom,” he tells them. 

“Mom, we’re playing one song. We’ll be backstage for the rest of it and that’ll be hours.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is, Gareth,” his mom says as she adds another later of cheese to the lasagna she’s preparing. “She’s fourteen, she can sit in the audience by herself. It’s at a community center. She’ll hardly be able to find any trouble.”

“She only wants to go because of her crush on Jeff!”

His mom smiles at this, finding the infatuation Olivia has with one of Gareth’s best friends adorable.

“It’ll be fine,” is all she says. 

Gareth has a hard time psyching himself up for the show. He should be focused on playing his best so they can win this thing and gain any exposure that comes from it. Instead, he keeps peeking out at the audience to make sure Olivia is still in her seat in the fourth row. She may be a giant pain in the ass but that doesn’t mean he wants some creep to abduct her. 

“She’ll be fine,” Jeff assures him. 

The drummer sighs and nods his head. “You’re right. Anyone who would try and kidnap her would return her after fifteen minutes anyway.”

With his bandmates’ help, Gareth is able to get his head back into the music and is able to go out on stage without being preoccupied. He still sneaks a glance at his sister as he walks on stage, though. 

Corroded Coffin comes in second place, which is higher than any of them expected. As they emerge from backstage after the show, Gareth also sees that his sister is just fine—in fact, it looks like she made a friend. 

Frank is called over by the bassist of an all-girl band and Eddie spies a redhead smiling at him, who he wanders off to flirt with. That leaves Gareth and Jeff to approach Olivia and the girl she’s standing with. The girl is older than Olivia, at least Gareth and Jeff’s age, or maybe even graduated from high school. 

“Gare Bear!” Olivia says before throwing her arms around her brother.

He hugs her back, but his cheeks redden at the nickname in front of this beautiful girl.

“I’m so proud!” Olivia crows.

The mystery girl smiles at Gareth and Jeff can practically see the hearts growing in his friend’s eyes. He knows what he has to do.

“Hey, Liv, do you want to come with me and get some ice cream from the truck outside?” Jeff asks.

Speaking of heart eyes, Olivia lights up, making her brother’s excitement seem dull in comparison. 

“Yes!”

Gareth gives his friend a grateful look as Olivia takes him by the hand and leads him towards the door. 

“I’m Annie,” the girl in front of Gareth says, offering her hand, which he shakes.

“Gareth. I hope my sister wasn’t bothering you during the show.”

“No, she’s so sweet,” Annie says with a lilting laugh that has Gareth’s heart pounding against his ribcage. “She sat next to me, and we talked in between bands. She was so excited to see you play.”

This bombshell was sitting next to Olivia the whole time and Gareth hadn’t even noticed? Holy shit, he must care about his little sister more than he thought. In fact, he knows he does by the way his heart warms at Annie’s words. 

“Yeah, she’s a good kid.”

[emilykaldwen]

*pinches the bridge of my nose*

Okay kids, sit down. I think things in the fandom space needs a little clarification.

Fan Artists and Fan Fiction writers are frustrated and upset about how the reblog rate has plummeted over the years as the rest of the internet moved to a 'hit the heart to help the algorithm'. Tumblr doesn't work that way. Likes don't do anything for a post, it just locks it in your personal scrapbook.

You Do Not Have to Reblog things YOU do not want to

When people say 'reblog the post' they mean reblog instead of ONLY hitting the like button. Tumblr relies on reblogs to put things on your dash. If you're liking something, then it hits your interests, and you should be reblogging it.

HOWEVER YOU ARE NEVER OBLIGATED TO REBLOG ALL THE THINGS.

Most people, including myself, will reblog from friends because we're friends! I support your foray into a fandom space I have no understanding of, but odds are if you are into it, then some of my other mutuals may be into it so I'll reblog. But I'm not out here reblogging every post I see from people I don't know in fandom spaces I'm not familiar with. It's my blog. I curate what I'd like. Some people have a dozen sideblogs for every fandom niche interest. Some of us just have the one blog and you strap in for whatever fandom chaos we go on. If you tag me in something, I occasionally miss it because I get the notification on my phone but don't have the free moment to do it and forget. Or maybe I add it into my queue.

When you are creating something you need to be mindful of your audience.

I'm in my mid 30s. I do not play in the Disney space (I know Disney Descendents is popular? That came out waaaaay after my time I don't know what it is), I don't know what that girl with the ghost band thing is that was going around a few years ago. I have fellow adult friends who do not engage with fan creation that involves minors. Additionally, I've seen people create OCs for shows like Criminal Minds. Hey! more power to you, I've never watched the show, and I know there's fic out there (I had someone tell me about a what I think was a Harry Potter/Criminal Minds crossover??? wow), but it's not going to get the same kind of traction as say, a Teen Wolf fan work.

I'm not saying don't create for your niche interests! CREATE! BE FREE AND MERRY! but understand that those creations just won't get the same kind of traction because it's a niche interest.

We create for ourselves, we share to find other people who enjoy our hobbies.

Which brings me to my second point:

NO ONE IS KNOCKING ON YOUR BEDROOM DOOR TO MAKE FRIENDS

Making friends is hard! I totally get it. But a sure fire way to turn people off way fast is to start a conversation with me but make it abundantly clear you care about nothing that I say/offer and are just waiting for your turn to talk so you can tell me about YOUR things and expect ME to ask questions. Conversation is a two way street. It's a back and forth. It is not me sitting there like a parent patiently listening to my child tell me about the cool toy adventure they're doing. I'm not your parent. I'm not your captive audience. I'm another person, and if you want friends - MEANINGFUL friends - then you need to make an effort to engage with people.

And it's hard. It's hard because so many people out there are very navel-gazey, and people get so caught up in the excitement of their own creations that they forget to ask other people about theirs. And... you're gonna have to be okay with that. You're gonna have to be okay with it feeling like pulling teeth, and know that hey! you're never gonna be buddy buddies with everyone. You just keep being you, you just keep showing the kind of person you are, and eventually it'll happen.

It's taken me over a decade to form meaningful mature friendships online. I've had friends over the years, ofc, but it's only now, when I can approach something with clear expectations and not thinking everyone is off having fun without me in some little clique, that I've been able to connect with people more honestly. And taking a five year break from tumblr helped a lot with that. I bought a house, I got a new job, I did other meaningful things with my life that wasn't on the internet.

The internet isn't actually a popularity place. You do not have to be popular to exist. I have been on tumblr since the inception pretty much. I have 200 followers and I only interact with 10 of them, maybe 15. And I'll tell you that outta those 200, 90% of them are blogs that haven't updated in years. A follower count does not promise reblogs, does not promise friends. It's literally impossible to be best buddies with 2000 people, to have a meaningful connection with every. single. one.

anyway I'm tired. I'm too old for this shit. Go touch some grass, go get off tumblr and play a new video game, join a book club, read more books, do things that aren't perpetually refreshing your dash and thinking everyone is off having fun without you because I promise you it's not fucking true. You need to have a life offline. You need a hobby that doesn't involve the computer. Seriously. Go touch grass.

[runningfrom2am]

achilles heel - I: Ben's Sister

summary:

Grace is the very opposite of her brother in every way. when she finally moves onto campus at UNC Chapel Hill, she feels like she gets to be her own person, make her own friends, and hopefully start a promising career in the museum industry, and maybe, one day, get married to her high school sweetheart and live the American dream for herself. Rafe Cameron however, upon their very first meeting, throws a wrench in her very perfect plan.

tags/warnings:

rafe cameron x fem!oc, rafe is giving very much homewrecker, fanon!rafe (kinda), college!au, friends to lovers, slow-burn (maybe?), minimal oc description, drug and alcohol use, mostly unedited, (these tags are not exhaustive, lmk if i should add anything!)

wc: 2.1k

my master list

series masterlist

requests

January 4th, 2019

B: i'll be at the caf in 10 if you want to grab breakfast before class

Her phone buzzes twice in quick succession as the screen lights up on the table in front of her. She leans over to read it, putting down her coffee mug and rolling her eyes slightly to herself. Grace had already eaten the same thing she always does, being frozen strawberries and whipped cream for breakfast, and is finishing up her first of several cups of coffee for the day when she receives this text from her brother.

g: okay, back table in the corner

She sends her quick reply and goes back to what she was doing, pretending to read her textbook and hoping to absorb at least the key points before her eight am class. So far, this method has worked well for her. Only one semester down so far, but with a 3.91 GPA, Grace is feeling pretty good about her academic career.

Her brother, Ben, on the other hand, got into the same school on a scholarship for soccer, and Grace is pretty positive he's only doing the same degree as her so she can tutor him while he lives in a frat house. Which he very promptly moved into after orientation, leaving Grace on campus alone, and she didn't mind it one bit. Having some space from her brother and her parents for the first time has been amazing.

Grace looks up as her disheveled-looking brother slides into the seat across from her at the table, practically throwing his plate down. She removes her headphones to hear what he's saying. "Huh?" She asks, prompting him to repeat himself.

"I said..." He draws it out, clearly frustrated his sister didn't listen. "You're already reading that? It's only the second class."

"Oh, well yeah, they're assigned readings for a reason." Grace replies, putting in her bookmark and closing the book, shoving it in the bag at her feet before looking back at her twin brother. He looks like he just rolled out of bed, which, of course, he did.

"Right. Give me the summary then, yeah?" He asks through a mouthful of cinnamon and sugar toast.

Grace sighs a little. "So, basically, there's this guy, totally a dick." She begins to explain and Ben nods, but he's already looking down at his phone. "So he shoots this elephant, right, and then someone else shoots him, and then that's how the third world war started."

"Wait, what? Really?" Ben asks, his attention suddenly drawn back to her.

"No. There was no World War III, dumbass." She replied flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Do you even know what this course is about?"

"Not yet but that's why I'm here isn't it?" Ben chuckles, taking another bite of his toast and instantly chasing it down with his orange juice.

Grace cringes a little as she watches that. "Not exactly..." She replies, looking down at her watch. "We have fifteen minutes. We should probably go, we have to get all the way across campus."

Ben nods and shoves the rest of his one piece of toast in his mouth and picks up the other to carry with them while they grab their bags and clean up the table.

No one really knows what it is about the first week of the semester, but Grace, as well as every other girl she's seen so far, has fallen victim to the idea that you need to look put together and organized knowing damn well that by two weeks from now, she'll be showing up in pyjamas. But today, for the time being, she's actually wearing jeans and makeup to class.

They walk across the beautiful campus that overlooks the city from a hill. It's January, but the sun is rising and there's hardly any snow left on the ground, not that there ever was much to begin with at UNC. Grace grips her coffee cup with both hands to try and warm them- it was probably an oversight to leave her gloves back in her dorm.

They make it inside and find their classroom, walking in and looking around, scanning to see open seats. Grace's eye lands on a table with two seats that no one is sitting at, and makes a beeline for it, placing her bag down before realizing her brother isn't at her side anymore.

"Hey, man, how's it going?" She hears as she looks back over her shoulder, seeing her brother grabbing the hand of a boy sitting in the back row. She sighs and sits down as he sits in the back with someone she's assuming he knows from his frat or soccer or something,

"I'm pretty good. Don't know why I took an eight am but here I am I guess." Ben's friend, Rafe, says as Ben takes a seat next to him.

"Honestly, same." Ben laughs slightly, pulling his laptop out of his bag and placing it on the desk.

"Hey, uh..." Rafe starts, leaning closer to his friend and lowering his voice. "Who's that girl you came in with?"

"Why?" Ben asks, taking on a defensive tone as he digs around in his bag, looking for his textbook.

Rafe instantly shakes his head, leaning back in his seat. "Just wondering." He says quickly, looking forward at the long-haired girl sitting a few rows in front of them. "I didn't know you had a girl- I just thought you would have told the team."

"What? I don't." Ben looks up at him to see his friend staring at his sister. "That's just Grace. My sister." He admits, leaning back in his chair as well.

Oh, his sister. Rafe thinks to himself, nodding slightly in response to his friend, that was now watching him, watching his sister. Time to look away. "You have a sister?"

"Uh, yeah, dude."

"You never talk about her," Rafe says, glancing back at her.

"Not much to say I guess." Ben shrugs in response. "Uh, we're twins, I don't know she likes to read apparently. She's a history major, she lives here on campus. I don't know what really there is to add."

"Oh, really? I was thinking of doing history."

Ben laughs. "Dude, as if Ward would ever let you even think about taking anything other than business. Pretty much the only thing you can do with history is write or teach, that's boring as hell."

Rafe sighs, he knows Ben is probably right. "I mean, like, I wouldn't hate that. At least it would be my choice."

"Yeah, I mean, whatever you want man. Why not, right? Being a prof makes bangin money too. People respect you and shit-" Ben rambles on but Rafe isn't really listening. His eyes are trained again on the girl sitting closer to the front of the room, as her hair cascades over her shoulders when she leans forward more, writing something down in a notebook.

"Right?" His thoughts are interrupted.

"Oh, yeah, totally." Rafe nods, completely unaware of what his friend was talking about by now.

"Okay, so we've got some new faces in here today." A man who Rafe assumes to be the prof says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention as the room quiets down. "You, in the back there. You missed introductions on Monday, so basically we all shared our names, our majors, and what year we're in if you'd like to share as well."

He's looking dead on at Rafe in the back, and everyone's heads turn to look at him. "I, yeah, sure. I'm Rafe, uh, this is my first year, so I haven't made any big decisions yet, but I'm thinking about majoring in history." He says, making eye contact with Grace and giving her a slight smile.

"Right, yes, Rafe Cameron. You're on the soccer team with Ben here. Your dad is Ward, right?" The prof asks and Rafe nods.

"Yes sir."

"I've met your father, he's a really nice man, hey?" He grins and Rafe nods again slightly in response, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Anyway, let's get started, shall we? Did everyone get the readings done?"

——

Grace gets up at the end of class, placing everything in her bag and her headphones back in, assuming that her brother would take off with his friend.

"Shouldn't we wait for Grace?" Rafe asks Ben as his friend turns to the door.

"Nah, I'll talk to her later." He shrugs in response. "Come on- we've got practice this afternoon and I want to have a nap first."

"Hold on one sec," Rafe replies, holding his hand up at his friend signaling for him to wait, and watching as Grace turns around evidently surprised to see them still standing there looking at her- waiting.

"Oh, hi." She says, removing one of her headphones.

"What did you think of the first real lecture? Did you write down every word?" Ben asks her and she laughs a little.

"No, but I'm glad we're getting into something interesting at least." She replies, avoiding eye contact with his friend, who's watching her intently.

"Hey, uh, I'm Rafe, by the way." He says to her before Ben can get a word in.

Grace looks briefly at her brother, who is staring at Rafe with an indecipherable look on his face. "I'm Grace." She says, looking back at her brother's friend and smiling politely. "You said you want to take history? That's my plan too." She adds, making an effort to move the conversation along so they don't just all stand there staring at each other.

"Yeah, I mean, maybe. My dad wants me to take business because he owns a company and I'll have to take it over eventually and all that crap." Rafe shrugs as the three of them head for the door.

Grace nods at that, shoving her hands in her pockets as they walk out the door and down the hall. "My boyfriend was supposed to take business too, or that was originally his plan in high school. He decided to go into chemical and electrical engineering instead and he's loving it, but I guess it's a bit different than your situation but I still think it's important to do what you want, not what other people want you to do." She shrugs, as Rafe looks at her brother, giving him a 'what the fuck, man?' expression.

Ben raises an eyebrow at him, the silent exchange finished with his confusion, and Rafe quickly continues his conversation with the girl who wasn't watching them, eyes straight ahead as she walked. "Yeah, I guess you're right. My plan right now is to sell it as soon as my name's on it, so my degree won't really matter."

"Yeah, you probably don't need a degree in business for that." She agrees, laughing slightly as she shakes her head.

As the three approach the end of the hall, Rafe takes a few quick steps forward to grab the door, and Ben smiles at him, laughing slightly and patting him on the shoulder as he walks through. "Thanks, bro." He steps outside, leaving Rafe to stare at the girl who took a turn down the hall instead of following them out. 

"Not going back to dorms?" He asks her, making her turn as she continues to walk backward staying with the flow of other students.

"I have a class in C building in ten minutes- this way is much faster. It was nice meeting you!" Grace smiles with a slight wave, popping her headphone back in as she turns around and continues down the hall. Rafe smiles back and raises his hand in a quick wave, sighing as he's stuck holding the door for a few more people before he can follow Ben.

"Dude, you didn't think to tell me she has a boyfriend?" Rafe asks, jogging slightly to catch up with his friend.

"Sorry, didn't think you'd be into my sister. Didn't think it mattered- that's not like, the most important thing about her, you know." Ben scoffs, shaking his head.

"Well, of course not. Would've been nice to know, though." Rafe grumbles, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

"You're not hooking up with my sister. Listen, even if she wasn't dating that loser I wouldn't let you. That's like, fucked up." Ben says sternly. "What would you say if I said I was into Sarah, huh?"

"Dude- gross. She's like, seventeen." Rafe shakes his head, scrunching up his nose at the thought.

"Exactly." Ben agrees. 

"Okay, well, that's different."

"You're digging yourself deeper and deeper man- you've just got to let it go." Ben insists, turning to walk towards his car on the opposite side of the parking lot from where Rafe parked his bike. "I'll see you at home!" He shouts back.

"See ya'," Rafe replies, walking in the opposite direction. He pulls the other side of his backpack over his shoulder, holding tightly onto the straps as he makes his way back to where he parked his bike- completely unaware that he was being watched through an upstairs window in C building by his friend's sister.

ahhh finally part one!! i’ve been working on this one for a hot minute so lmk all your thoughts and everything- i don’t have the whole thing planned out so also if anyone has any requests on where this should go, pls lmk!!

taglist: @madelynie @slut4drudy (message me or reply to this to be added!)

[lemongingerart]

Chapter 3 - Taris (II)

Fic summary: The second arc of my Armitage Hux x OC fanfic, “chocolate cookies and tarine tea”, in which both need to deal with the mess they got into (and with each other, eh eh eh). Involves cookies that won't be eaten and tea that will get spilled. Same goes for certain feelings... they are going to be hungry ant thirsty 😏

You can find the link to AO3 and other chapters on Tumblr in the pinned message on my dash, both for the first and second arc 😊

Rating: Explicit. This is going to be very NSFW. So, Minors, do NOT read or interact. 18+. Family, friends and colleagues, please don’t read this. :’-)

Tags & warnings: TRoS fix-it (kind of), Hux!lives, Hux doesn’t like Kylo, Not a Redemption Arc, maybe a little bit, shameless fem!OC insert (there are cliches but entertaining ones imo), slow emotional burn, medium sexual burn, Enemies to Enemies With Benefits to Lovers, Hux is still a villain don't forget, Virgin Characters, masturbation against the door, pinv, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Awkward Sexual Situations, Past Child Abuse, dubious first kiss, Dom/sub Undertones, Mental Breakdown, Unprotected Sex, wet Hux, that deserves a tag/warning on its own, Minor Character Death

I will add tags as we proceed in the story, please let me know if I forgot one!

Taglist: @mylifeisactuallyamess, @morby and anyone who’d like to join 🥰

A/N:    I realized that both Taris chapters are short... too short to read on their own.That's why I decided to review and publish the second part, so at least we get some general ginger 😊

"I need you, remember?”.

Did I really say that out loud? 

Armitage shivered from disdain, hating himself for sounding so desperate. He wasn’t, and by any means this was not the signal he wanted to give the headstrong girl. Who knows what that overexcited mind of hers was thinking now. If she even begins to think she has power over me and tries to stab me in the back… 

Only now, he started to realise there was some truth behind these poorly chosen words. He was completely dependent on Miko to make his risky plan succeed. He felt vulnerable, having to place his faith in her hands. He was supposed to be guiding her with his tactics, hopefully coercing her into doing the right thing and making sure the mission ended successfully. But right now, with the connection cut off, she was out there all by herself and he felt lost, the lack of control eating away the last piece of trust he harboured for a positive outcome. Stars, he hadn’t been feeling confident enough with the plan and her possible lack of abilities in the first place, and this was the consequence. A new level of distress, right on top of his other concerns.

It was already about half an hour ago, when the direct line with her earpiece commlink had fallen away. She had signed him that she was just about to enter the designated building by then, so no doubt the place was shielding off all type of communication.

That left Hux without any means to know what was going on, and he felt empty and way too nervous to his liking. 

Hux started checking the perimeter sensors now, making sure no one was spotting his shuttle with the naked eye. They could mess with clearance codes, but anyone who took visual confirmation of the shuttle would know that they weren't exactly a cargo vessel. Something that should automatically sound the proximity alarm, but you can never be too certain, he sourly thought, aware of how the stress was eating him and making him do irrelevant things.

He sat down in the cockpit’s seat again and brought his hands together, the fingers locking when he rested his forehead on them. He didn’t know what to think, he wasn’t used to just… waiting. How long was she going to take? Every minute that passed made him wonder if things weren't going to work out as planned, or even worse, she was selling him out. Maybe something happened to her, out there in the streets, and he could be waiting here for nothing.

He tried to think about something else, but the only other thing apart from Miko he could focus on, was his anger and spite towards Ren. 

Ren… Resentment was all that he had left. That, and the knowledge that the unguided projectile with a lightsaber and the other officers had always tried to put him aside. That they were out there, wrecking the First Order. But they underestimated him. He would prove that he has what it takes to lead the Order. They will see.

The proximity alarm bleeped, and he only noticed by now that Miko’s location sensor had become active again. He made a mental note that he shouldn’t dwell too much on Ren and the misery he brought to his life and the Order. The self declared lord of the Dark Side shouldn't be plaguing his mind, now or ever, he wasn't worth the attention. 

He swiftly stood up, ready to check on the girl; he was dying to know what happened and if she in fact obtained the coördinates to the Resistance’s base. 

Actually, that feisty girl has proven to be an adequate distraction from these dark thoughts, he realised once again while watching the sensors bleep and pressing the command to lower the ramp. Seems like he should appreciate her company after all. If only not to overthink his sightless situation and drown in his depressing theories. 

Miko was coming into view of the cockpit’s transparisteel viewport, and Hux paused his movement. 

What is she up to now?  He wondered, started seething, when looking at the small cargo container floating behind her.

[magicshopaholic]

The Test (Seokjin x OC)

Summary: You and Seokjin deal with the possibility of an unexpected - and unplanned - discovery.

Pairing: Seokjin x OC

Genre: Best friends; angst

Word count: 5.9 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language; talks of pregnancy; mentions of death and amputations (Nari's a surgeon, duh); allusions to abortion, childbirth, complications and miscarriages

A/N: Whew, this was rough. Takes place the day after The Wedding.

Tagging:  @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @kflixnet (italics could not be tagged; drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: "don't know why" by norah jones

seokjin masterlist | main masterlist

Seokjin is just done brushing his teeth, bleary-eyed and exhausted, when someone knocks on the door loudly. For some reason, his first reaction is to duck, as though afraid of a gunshot through the window of his sixteen-storey bathroom.

He splashes some water on his face and makes his way to the door, all while the knocks grow louder and more inconsistent. It’s annoying, not least because it’s reasonably early in the morning, but there’s something terribly frantic about the way the sound echoes through his living room.

Seokjin knows who it is before he opens the door.

“Nari, it’s - do you know what time it is?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s late,” she says hurriedly, brushing past him without invitation and entering his house. “Or it’s early. Or - I don’t know. I’ve been at the hospital,” she adds, and her voice trembles a bit.

He shuts the door slowly behind him, taking in her mildly dishevelled state. It’s strangely similar to how she’d looked twenty-four hours ago at her parents’ house, but different in every other physically conceivable way. In faded jeans and a grey t-shirt that she’d changed into at the hotel yesterday, with her hair tied back messily, she looks completely drained of energy. Yet, her tone is upbeat, almost jumpy in a way.

“Are you - have you slept at all?”

“What? No,” she says, shaking her head jerkily. “I told you, I was at the hospital. I had to monitor a patient all night, so I’ve been hitting the caffeine. I had to make sure he didn’t conk off on my watch,” she explains vaguely, moving some items off his couch to make space for her bag.

Uncertain how to respond to that, Seokjin swallows. “Okay. Um… don’t you think you should get some sleep? You’ve been up all night -”

“I will - I’ll take a nap at the hospital. I have a surgery this afternoon,” she tells him, eyes shining. “It’s a below-the-knee amputation. It’s my first orthopaedic rotation all year but I’ve been with this patient since he got admitted, so if everything goes well, I’ll get to saw the leg off,” she finishes excitedly.

There’s a distinct rumble of thunder in the distance while Seokjin processes this information. “Jesus Christ, Nari,” he says finally, running a hand over his face. “That’s - that’s really morbid. And weird.”

“It’s not! The patient has cancer and he’s in pain - believe me, he wants this leg cut off as soon as -”

“Okay, stop!” He cringes when she gets cut off. “Sorry, it’s just… a lot. And not what you came here for.” He pauses, watching her smile fade and knowing he’s right. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Nari swallows, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and dropping her gaze. “Why - why would you assume something is wrong?”

Because the last time we saw each other, you seemed like you couldn’t wait to get away from me. But no good can come of reliving that. 

“Um, you seem a little… frazzled,” he says. “Is everything okay? Is this about - about yesterday?”

Nari’s breath hitches a bit. “Oh. Well… yeah, actually. Oh, God, I don’t know where to start,” she mutters, covering her mouth and sitting on the sofa. She drops her head in her hands and groans. 

Shit. Seokjin hoped it wouldn’t come to this, that the things he’d said to her yesterday would just stay buried - would stay on the other side of the door, like she said. But that’s too much to hope for, even though he’d done the right thing. He takes a hesitant seat next to her.

“Look, I - I’m sorry if it came out the wrong way,” he murmurs, not knowing whether to look at her. “I never wanted to hurt your feelings and I - I guess was taken a little off guard when you asked me. But… I understand if you’re mad at me.”

Nari frowns, and he can almost hear her brain working. Then her eyes widen. “Oh… God. No, no, that’s - that’s not what I’m talking about,” she says quickly, her cheeks flushing. “I heard you. Loud and clear,” she mutters, looking away, clearly embarrassed.

Loud and clear. It’s ironic, for he’d heard her loud and clear, too. The timing was impeccable - and fortunate - for if Seokjin had not accidentally overheard Nari with her mother, right when he’d been on his way to apologise for his horrendous behaviour, he may have destroyed their friendship for good. 

You thought I was dating Seokjin? God, mom, there’s just no way.

In hindsight, it makes sense. They were never supposed to have feelings for each other. She knew it - he just had to put into the right words for her.

Seokjin clears his throat, trying to ignore his heart sinking at the memory. “Oh. Okay. What is it then?” he asks, suddenly struggling to remember anything else that might have happened yesterday, but drawing a blank.

“Right.” Nari nods before abruptly standing up and facing him. Their positions now reversed, she takes a deep breath. All her jumpiness seems to have disappeared; she looks more worried than he’s ever seen her. 

“Okay, for the record, I didn’t want to have to tell you this, but… it’s the right thing to do.” She exhales again, deeper this time. “Seokjin, I… my period is late. I - I might be pregnant.”

There’s that thunder again, somewhere in the distance. It’s strange, for the sky is blue, with not a cloud in sight. 

“Did you hear what I said?”

“I -” Seokjin tries to swallow, but finds his throat is dry. He shakes his head and meets her gaze. “Are you telling you’re pregnant? With - with my -”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“No,” she says, pacing around the living room now that the words are out of her mouth. “I haven’t taken a test; I’ve been awake all night and the coffee and the - the alcohol from the wedding - they can mess with the result. A blood test is better. But the lab is backed up, so I won’t get the result until later tonight.” She looks up at him expectantly. “But… I can’t remember the last time my period was late.”

That last detail is enough for Seokjin. “Oh, my God.” It feels like a tree trunk that’s broken during a storm and is blocking the road, clouding his entire future as he knows it. “I - we’re going on tour next year,” is all that comes out of his mouth.

He knows instantly that it’s the wrong thing to say, for he looks up to see Nari’s face fall.

“Of course. I - I know. You’re - I would never ask you to give up -” But here she breaks off, and her face screws up as though she’s about to cry. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no,” he mutters immediately, getting to his feet and standing right in front of her. “That’s not what I meant. I’ll be with you, okay? Whatever you decide to do. I mean it,” he adds, squeezing her shoulders. “It’s just a lot to process. But… we’ll figure this out.”

Nari doesn’t say anything for a moment, her eyes searching his face. Her fear is visible and he wonders momentarily if she’s thinking about yesterday, about his hesitant confession in response to a question he never thought either of them would have the courage to ask each other. As he thinks it, another possibility occurs to him.

“Wait, is that why you asked if -”

He’s cut off by a beeping sound. Nari steps away from him and fishes her pager out of her pocket. “Fuck, I have to go. My patient’s vitals are dropping,” she mutters, moving around him to get her bag.

“Now?” Seokjin frowns, bewildered at this sudden change in atmosphere. “Wait, Nari. We - we have to talk about this.”

She sighs, looking more tired than ever. He’s so tempted, so tempted, to ask her whether she’s eaten anything decent but the words catch in his throat.

“I know. We will. I just… I can’t deal with this right now.” She shakes her head and heads to the door, pausing at the exit. She turns around to face him, and she looks almost guilty. “I’m sorry, Seokjin.”

It’s too loaded to be about anything else, but before he can ask her again, she’s gone.

— 

Seokjin hurries into Big Hit an hour later, his mind going a mile a minute. There were too many variables in front of him once Nari left his apartment, so his solution was zero down to the one most within his reach. He’d blasted a message in the group chat before heading into the shower, vaguely hoping to drown himself, and had emerged to a single lone reply from Jungkook who told him exactly where to find Namjoon for the rest of the day.

He races to the younger member’s studio and bursts in without warning, all formalities set aside for now. Namjoon, head bent over laptop and a pair of gigantic headphones perched on top, doesn’t even notice him for a few seconds.

“Whoa,” he says, doing a double take and pausing something on the laptop before taking off the headphones. “Hey, hyung. What are you doing here?”

That’s a great question. Seokjin knows the gist of why he’s here, at Big Hit, in the leader’s studio even though he’s not on schedule right now. But he hasn’t the faintest idea where to start because suddenly, for the first time in over an hour, the full force of Nari’s news is occurring to him. He exhales shakily, still standing in the doorway, feeling like his legs might give out.

Namjoon frowns. “Hyung? Are you -”

“Yeah.” Seokjin nods and steps in, the door swinging shut behind him. “Sorry, I know you’re busy and everything, but I just wanted to, uh… discuss something.”

“Uh, yeah. Of course.” Namjoon gets up and pulls a chair over to the monitor, gesturing for him to sit. “Do you want coffee or anything?”

Something strong. But it’s much too early for that.

“Just water. Thanks.”

Namjoon nods and takes two small bottles out of the fridge and hands one to Seokjin, who unscrews the cap and takes a large swig, not emerging until he’s drunk the whole thing. He pretends not to notice Namjoon’s frown deepen, staring at the screen instead.

“What are you working on?” he asks, hearing the barely-masked indifference in his own tone.

Namjoon stares for a moment before gesturing to the screen. “Uh, nothing, really. Just mixing some stuff. Something for the next album probably.”

“That’s great.”

“Something on your mind, hyung?”

“Yeah, okay.” There’s no point beating around the bush right now. Time is of the essence and as much as Seokjin would like to skirt around the topic and make nonsense small talk with a clearly busy Namjoon, there are some things he needs to get out of the way.

“Hypothetically,” he begins, then pauses. Before him, Namjoon sits still, patiently waiting for him to continue. He tries again. “What if… what’s the company protocol on… taking a break? For a single member to just… step back for a while?”

It’s clear that this isn’t what Namjoon was expecting. “What do you mean? Do you want to take a break? How long -”

“Just hypothetically,” interrupts Seokjin, feeling his own pulse race in response to Namjoon’s tone. “What would - I mean, how would that conversation go? What would you have to do?”

“Well… I would have to talk to management,” he answers after a moment, and Seokjin can tell he’s struggling not to roll his eyes. “I would have to talk to marketing, to PR, who would analyse the revenue hit, the stock price and a bunch of other things. I would have to discuss it with Production, because a lot of content is in the works already, so if this… hypothetical member wants to take a break, he’s got to be really sure about it,” he finishes ominously, his gaze unmoving.

Seokjin is quiet, the slow realisation hitting him that logic is not what he was looking for right now, and that he’s sought out the wrong member in that case. His palms feel sweaty and he stares at his shoes, feeling his stomach churn painfully.

“But if this hypothetical member really does need a break,” begins Namjoon, startling him a bit, “I can work it out. I just need to know. Hyung, do you?” he asks after a moment, dropping all pretence of hypotheticals.

He sighs, dropping his head in his hands. “I might,” he confesses, feeling like he might throw up.

“Okay. How long are we looking at?” Namjoon asks, tone calm and deliberate. “A week? A month?”

“More like nine,” he mutters, hesitantly meeting his eyes. Seokjin watches with the feeling, once again, of a slow-motion car crash as the words sink in. There’s nothing first, then the registering, then the confusion, then the hope that it’s some sick joke, and then horror.

“When you say -” But Namjoon doesn’t need to finish his sentence, for Seokjin’s expression apparently confirms everything it needs to. His hands fly to his face and he’s in sort of a mid-gasp where he seems to be unable to exhale. It occurs to Seokjin that when Namjoon heard “break”, he possibly thought it was due to tiredness or burnout of some kind.

“Yeah,” he confirms uselessly, feeling, for the first time, a creeping shame throughout his body for he knows he’s putting Namjoon in an unbelievably difficult position, for no fault of his.

“But who -” He doesn’t seem to be able to finish this sentence either. 

“Um… it’s - it’s Nari.” He doesn’t add anymore, and something in Namjoon’s eyes seems to soften slightly. He seems as though he wants to ask, but decides against it at the last moment.

“She’s pregnant?” He whispers the words, finally letting a gust of breath out.

“Yeah, most probably.,” he admits, his heart sinking. 

“Um… when exactly -”

“About a month and a half ago.” When Namjoon doesn’t respond, probably because the maths checks out, Seokjin shakes his head. “In any case, I need to be with - I mean, I can’t just not -” He breaks off, finding it impossible to explain.

“No, of course,” says Namjoon almost mechanically, his eyes unfocused. He seems to be thinking about a hundred things simultaneously. “I understand. We’ll work it out somehow. I mean, we’ll have to get PR involved - I’m not sure if you’ll be able to keep it a secret - or if you’ll want to,” he backtracks hastily. “But, uh… yeah. And - and I don’t think nine months will cover it,” he adds, giving him a sideways glance.

No, probably not. Feeling sick to his stomach, Seokjin clears his throat. There’s so much he wants to say, to vent, to ask and get off his chest but one look at Namjoon tells him he’s burdened him enough for one day. He’d burst into his studio on a normal Monday to change probably every single plan he’d made for the group for the rest of the year or more, just like Nari had barrelled into his apartment this morning to change his life forever.

“I should go,” he says abruptly, standing up so suddenly that his chair wobbles. “I just - I just wanted to give you a heads up.” Without waiting for a response, he turns around and leaves the studio and the building, making a beeline for the only person he wants to see right now.

When Seokjin is a few minutes away from the hospital, he calls her.

“Can we talk?” he asks, striding up the sidewalk, waiting only for her to respond with an uncertain “Sure, I guess?” before he hangs up. Heart racing but this time with something else, he reaches the entrance to the hospital where he spots her jogging down the stairs.

Nari is in hospital scrubs this time, her hair tied into a higher and tighter ponytail, and her shoulders straighter somehow. She shows none of the anxiety she’d displayed this morning in his apartment, and Seokjin wonders for a moment if this is her preparing to cut a person’s leg off. Still, as she nears him, he sees a hint of nervousness in her eyes and feels a grim sort of satisfaction at the sight.

“Listen, about this morning -”

“Not here.” She turns abruptly to lead him away from the reception, up the stairs and down several corridors until they reach their destination, and she shuts the door behind him. When she switches on the light, a harsh, white tubelight, he’s momentarily speechless.

“You brought me to an on-call room? Are you kidding me?”

“Yeah, the irony isn’t lost on me,” she mutters, shrugging. “But there isn’t anywhere else here that we can get some privacy. And I’m assuming this requires privacy.”

It comes out a bit like a question. Seokjin can’t be sure if this is the exact room in which they’d had sex weeks ago, a spur-of-the-moment mistake, with consequences they should’ve been more responsible about. It had been dark, with nothing but their sense of touch to guide them, warm and soft inside the small room while outside, it poured.

Right now, however, Seokjin can’t reconcile that room with this one, this medically bright room, clean, sterile, a reminder of when their impulses had got the best of them.

“Seokjin?” She breaks him out of his reverie. “What is it? I have surgery in a bit and I need to prep the guy and everything -”

“Okay, I need you to stop talking about surgery for a second,” he interrupts her. “I - I can’t hear about another dead person or a - or a body you’re going to saw in half. Just - please.”

Nari frowns and opens her mouth to respond but apparently changes tacks at the last moment. “What’s going on?”

Namjoon’s face swims in his mind again, his twenty-five year old friend and leader, with the burden of the company on his shoulders while Seokjin could do nothing to help him. 

“We need to have a plan. I’m going to tell the company that I need to go on a hiatus,” he announces, his voice dangerously calm. “Or - or Namjoon will, but he said that it can be done if we talk to -”

“Wait.” Nari takes a step forward, her frown deepening into what almost looks like a glare. “You told Namjoon? What the hell, Seokjin?”

And something snaps.

“Of course I told Namjoon!” he exclaims. “This - this changes everything! Not just for me, but for him, for the company, for all the guys! For my parents, for  -” He stops abruptly, this thought having only just occurred to him. “This isn’t just your problem, okay? I get to freak out about it, too!”

“But you don’t get to freak out at me!” she shouts back and to his horror, he can see her eyes start to fill with tears. “You think I don’t know that everything is going to change? I’m in the second year of my residency - and now I’ll have to cut back on surgery time, go on maternity leave, probably change specialties. If I’m a single mom in the city, there’s no way I’ll be able to keep this up! My career… it’s over,” she murmurs, taking a step back and looking away, her voice trembling.

“I didn’t -”

“No, you really didn’t. God, you think this is about you?” She sounds scathing now, her voice slicing through him with a fury he’s never heard before. “This is in me! It’s the rest of my fucking life! It’s my - it’s my body! If there are complications, if there’s a surgery, if I fucking die on that table - nothing happens to you! I’m a doctor, you know - I see this shit happen every day.” She shakes her head and scoffs, jabbing a finger in his chest. “You can walk away whenever you want. So, no, you do not get to freak out at me.”

Seokjin stares at her, all thoughts wiped clean from his mind. His conversation with Namjoon feels like a minor inconvenience from ages ago, her fears taking precedence over everything else he’s ever known or cared about.

“You think nothing happens to me if you die on that table?” he asks quietly.

“Fuck you.”

She moves past him to leave, taking care to knock his shoulder with hers, but he grabs her arm to stop her.

“Don’t you dare, Seokjin, I’m not in the mood for your -”

“I’m an arsehole,” he says softly, tugging gently and sighing in relief when she stops. “I’m a complete arsehole and you’re right, okay? About everything. I have no business freaking out.”

Nari doesn’t fight him. She turns around on the spot to face him, her eyes and nose red. “That’s not what I mean,” she mutters miserably, wiping at her eyes and not meeting his gaze. “You’re allowed your reaction, too, but… it’s going to be hard enough telling my parents that I’m pregnant while being single and unmarried, but if I have you blaming me, too, then I don’t know how -”

“Whoa, I don’t blame you,” he interrupts her, holding her shoulders now. “How could I blame you? There were two of us there, two of us who chose to go ahead without a condom.” He’s quiet for a moment. “It wasn’t our finest moment, but we were in it together. We are in it together,” he adds, squeezing her shoulders. “Nari, I swear I’m not going anywhere.”

Nari bites her lip. “Seokjin, you don’t have to say that,” she tells him in a small voice. “You don’t feel that way about me and I can’t hold you to something like this.”

“Forget about that,” he says immediately, shaking his head. “That was completely - I mean, this is -” He swallows and squeezes her shoulders again. “You’re still my best friend, Nari.” And if you’d let me, if you wanted it, too, who knows what else you could be?

But her own words ring in his mind, incongruous and unwelcome, reminding him of truths he’s not sure he’s likely to forget. Seokjin? Mom, there’s just no way.

Her lower lip trembles, and he resolves in his mind that no matter what else might be going on, he will not fail her when it comes to this.

“I’m so scared, Jinnie,” she admits, a tear escaping.

Seokjin’s heart hurts, so much, and he pulls her into his arms without a word. He feels her body shake against his and holds her tighter, his hand on the back of her head, lips against her hair as he tries, tries and fails, to find the words that can make it even slightly better for her. 

But it turns out he doesn’t need to say anything at all, for after about a minute of  their silent embrace, devoid of anything other than his silent promise to be there no matter what, she sniffs and pulls away slowly.

“Thanks,” she says with a watery smile. “But I, uh… I have -” She gestures awkwardly outside.

“Surgery, yeah.” He nods and steps away, feeling her warm body separate from his. “I’ll meet you at your apartment tonight?”

“Yeah. I get off at eight, so… after that?”

“Done.” There’s a few seconds where they don’t move, staying in the moment of a mutual promise. Then Seokjin steps forward and hugs her again, kissing the side of her head and feeling her arms wrap around his waist. 

“For the record,” he murmurs against her hair, “if you die on that table, they’re going to have to try and save two of us because I’m not making it without you.”

—

It’s late afternoon when Seokjin heads to the dorm, and it’s the longest he’s ever gone without a meal. But hunger seems to evade him today, his stomach occupied instead with nerves and stress so strong that it’s beginning to physically hurt. 

He enters the living room, simultaneously glad yet slightly disappointed to find it empty. He flops down onto the leather couch and drops his head on the back, feeling more tired than ever as his future swims before him, completely unknown.

“Hyung?”

Seokjin looks up, a bit startled, to see Namjoon coming out of the hallway, in his hand a backpack. “Hey,” he says hoarsely, not moving. “I thought you were at the studio all day.”

“I was. I mean, I am.” He holds up the backpack. “Just came to pick up some stuff.”

Seokjin doesn’t respond, not even when Namjoon walks over and gingerly takes a seat next to him. 

“How are you doing?” he asks lightly.

“Fabulous.” His eyelids feel heavy, but he doesn’t think he can fall asleep for several days now.

“And Nari?”

Seokjin doesn’t respond. There’s a frustration bubbling within him, a low simmering frustration at how he’s lately been managing to constantly say the wrong to her. He hates it; it feels cheap and cowardly and thoroughly undeserving of her.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon,” he says after a moment, still unmoving as he stares at the ceiling. “For doing this. I know it’s going to be a lot of trouble for you.”

“Stop it, hyung,” chides Namjoon gently. “You know you have nothing to apologise for. It’s your life.”

“Yeah, but it’s your job.” He finally looks at the younger member, wondering how many more people he’s going to need to apologise to. “You sounded troubled before and… I get it.”

“Well… sure,” he replies slowly. “I have to have certain priorities. But they don’t have to be your priorities,” he tells him. “You should really only have one priority right now.”

I do. He realises then that it’s true. All other worries aside, there’s only one thing that’s non-negotiable to him, and she’d been crying in his arms less than a couple of hours ago.

“Have you ever been in one of these situations? Like, a pregnancy scare?”

“With Kaya? No.” He pauses. “She’s on the pill.”

“What if she forgets to take it?”

“She’s not the type to forget stuff like that. Actually, she is,” he amends, “if she’s busy. But… not with this.”

It doesn’t help. Namjoon seems to realise it, for he sighs. “Obviously, I don’t know what you’re both going through right now, but… you don’t have to worry about anything else. Not the management stuff or anything. I’ll take care of it.”

Seokjin can’t seem to find the right words to express what that means to him, so he simply nods and pats Namjoon’s knee.

“You and Nari,” he begins, then pauses. “Were you… are you dating?”

“No. It’s just been a few times,” answers Seokjin in a low voice. “God, I can’t believe how stupid we were.”

“Cut yourself some slack, hyung. Everyone makes mistakes.”

He scoffs quietly. “Hell of a mistake.” He shakes his head, the same feeling of shame rising up in him again. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he mutters.

Namjoon hesitates. “Which part?”

“Everything.” Seokjin sighs. “A year ago, Nari and I made a pact. We were drinking and fooling around, but… we decided that if we were still single when we turned thirty, we’d give it a try. Give us a try,” he clarifies.

“Oh.” He nods. “You still have a couple years to go.” When he doesn’t respond, Namjoon nudges him gently. “Come on, hyung. You said it yourself - you two were drinking and everything. People say stupid shit when they’re drunk.”

“Yeah, but even that drunken pact was more of a plan than this,” insists Seokjin. “We would’ve been thirty, we would be dating like normal people, I’d be back after enlistment… and then we’d move forward with our lives.”

“Hyung,” he begins after a moment, and Seokjin can tell he’s trying to be delicate. “I know it isn’t the ideal situation, but… I don’t know, isn’t it better that it’s with Nari at least? Over some random girl that you may have dated but didn’t know very well?”

Seokjin opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Isn’t it better that it’s Nari? It’s not a thought that’s crossed his mind thus far, the idea that having a baby out of wedlock with Nari is somehow preferable to having it with someone else. It’s been the most shameful part in his mind, the thought of irrevocably changing the most important relationship in his life. His childhood best friend, his lifelong constant, now quite possibly the mother of his child. For the first time, it doesn’t automatically fill him with dread. 

He pictures it, the unknown future now taking shape. Nari, her skin glowing and her belly swollen with his child. Nari, on a hospital bed, sweaty and happy as she cradles their newborn in her arms. Nari, right beside him as they watch a toddler take its first steps, the pride and euphoria almost making him choke.

It’s Nari. It always would be.

Seokjin exhales shakily, his chest loosening up just slightly, just a pinch, and for the first time all day, he feels hungry. 

“What if she did forget?” he asks after a moment, almost hopefully. “Kaya. If she forgot to take her pill… if it was you in this situation?”

Namjoon is quiet for a few seconds. “It wouldn’t be ideal,” he admits, shrugging. “But there’s no question. I’d do whatever she wants.”

 —

At eight pm that night, Seokjin goes to Nari’s apartment, half a block away from the hospital. He hopes she’s home; there’s a very good chance that either her surgery ran long or she got pulled into another one or she just fell asleep somewhere and lost track of time. Given that it’s been almost forty-eight hours since she last got a proper night’s sleep, he really hopes she’s home.

And the other thing, of course.

He rings the doorbell with a shaky determination, anxious but certain of what he wants. When she opens the door and gives him a small smile, stepping aside to let him in, he prepares himself for it.

“Do you have it?” he asks. She nods in response, holding up a folded sheet of paper. “Okay,” he says, licking his lips and nodding back. “Okay. Nari, listen. Before we look at it, I just need to say something.”

Nari tilts her head and gives him that same small, forced smile. “Seokjin, I know. I know you’ll be there.”

“No, it’s not that. Can you just -” He pulls her gently by the hand and guides her to the armchair, silently requesting her to sit down. When she obliges, he kneels before her, his heart racing again.

“Look, I know I haven’t been… I mean, I’ve been a bit of a dick the last few days and I’ve been apologising for something or the other constantly,” he begins, spotting a hint of amusement in her eyes and feeling heartened. “But… I meant what I said today, Nari,” he says, squeezing her warm hands between his own. “I’m going to be right here with you, through everything. Whatever you decide.”

Nari swallows. “Even if I choose to…” She trails off, but it’s enough for him.

“Even if you choose to,” he confirms. “And even if you don’t. Doctor’s appointments, midnight cravings, diaper changes… everything. You can move in,” he offers. “Save on rent, more space, more help. My career is a lot more flexible than yours - you don’t have to give anything up.”

Her lower lip is trembling again. “Do you really mean that?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this serious about anything in my entire life. I think I might pass out from the seriousness.”

She chuckles and his heart leaps. “Thanks.” Her thumb strokes the back of his hand lightly. Seokjin wonders if it would be inappropriate to kiss her right now; just a peck on the lips, more out of comfort than anything else. Before he can consider it, however, she reaches for the folded paper and Seokjin realises he’d forgotten why he’d come over in the first place.

“You ready?” she asks, sitting on the edge of the chair.

Seokjin nods, moving backwards to sit adjacent to her on her mismatched sofa. He clasps his hands together, his chest going back to contracting painfully as she slowly unfolds the sheet, a medical-looking document with the hospital logo on the top right corner.

He watches as her eyes scan the sheet, clearly making sense of numbers and results he has no idea about. Then her face goes slack and she exhales, her breath coming out raggedly.

“Oh, my God,” she whispers, and her mouth starts trembling again.

“Nari, it’s okay, I -”

“I’m not pregnant.”

“- will be - what?”

Nari lowers the sheet of paper and tilts it towards him. “My hCG levels are completely normal. They’re normal,” she repeats, although it seems more to herself than him. She stands up and drops the paper, ignoring it fluttering down on the coffee table.

“They’re normal,” she murmurs again, rubbing her hands over her face. “They’re normal, they’re normal - yes, yes, yes - yes!” She lets out a shaky, relieved laugh, pumping her fist in the air. “I’m not pregnant - fuck, yeah! Oh, thank God, I was so worried…”

Seokjin watches her, a continuation of the car crash he can’t help but watch, much as he’d like to turn away. His own anxiety is gone, too, and he waits for the relief - but it never quite comes. The anxiety is gone, taking everything else with it, too, and leaving behind a strange emptiness.

He watches her, trying to ignore the irrational disappointment he can feel deep in stomach. She doesn’t seem to notice at first, still marvelling at their luck, at their near miss. It isn’t until she turns around with the same relieved smile, the one making her face brighter than the sun, to see his own expression, and her smile fades.

“No…” Nari shakes her head. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just - I mean, this is a good thing, right? Now nothing has to change,” she explains, a different sort of uncertainty in her voice this time. “I really appreciate that you wanted to step up and - and I’m sure it would’ve been…” She swallows, and a small frown appears on her forehead. “Seokjin, come on… I mean, you didn’t want this either.”

Not trusting himself to speak, Seokjin nods. It doesn’t matter, he realises. It doesn’t matter that he’d pictured Nari holding their child or Nari living with him or Nari coming home to him every day - Nari didn’t want any of that. There’s just no way. It finally hits home.

“Yeah,” he manages, forcing a smile that he’s sure she can see through. He stands up, needing to be anywhere but here. “I’m - I’m happy for you, Nari,” he murmurs honestly, unable to meet her eyes for longer than a second. He is, it’s true. She’d said it herself: this was not about him. She’s got her life back, and Seokjin has got yet another confirmation of where they stand.

“Jinnie, I didn’t mean it like that,” she starts to say, but he’s already on his way to the door. “You don’t have to take a break now,” she blurts out. “You can go on tour next year, just like you planned.”

Good news for Namjoon, he supposes. “Yeah, you’re right,” he says softly. There’s nothing more to say - he can see that on her face as well. She looks confused, hurt - and somewhat knowing. But Seokjin doesn’t think he can take any more today.

“Take care, Nari.” Tearing his eyes away from her tall, familiar form, he steps out of her apartment and shuts the door behind him.

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

[readychilledwine]

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thank you for the tag @acourtofladydeath

Our brains must be similar -this is aside from what I've posted as coming an upcoming fic

Fragile (Azriel x Reader)

Heart of Ice (Lucien x Winter Court OC)

Indulgence (Rhys x reader)

Champagne Papí (Rhys x reader)

Ex Best Friend's Sister (Pollux x hunts sister reader)

You Should Be With Me (Azriel x Reader)

Like Mother, Like Daughter (girl dad headcanons)

Death Incarnate, Sunshine Eternal (Rhys x Dawn Court Reader)

Thorn in my Side (Rowan x reader)

Call My Name (Lucien x reader)

Body Language ( Azriel x reader)

Den of Foxes (Lucien x reader)

Blame the Hormones (batboys x pregnant reader)

Good Girl (Cassian x Reader - yes.. it's smut 🤣)

Marry You (Rhys x reader)

Among the Lilies (Tamlin x reader)

All for Show (Cassian x reader)

Until Death (Rowan x reader)

Art of Submission (Rowan x reader)

Simple Delights (Ruhn x reader)

Rebellion (Apollion x Ruhns sister reader)

Lessons in Breeding

No pressure tags to:

@claireswritingcorner @cupidojenphrodite @thehighladywrites @honeybeemain @serpentandlily @leafsandstarlight @loneliestluvr

Did I purposely wait until I was tagged more to fix this and follow the rules (yes)

Did I also add a WIP due to a late night conversation (yes)

[cantevenbeachhere]

Ken’s quick RP policy guide

Thanks for the tag @writingsinashes

Bold all that apply to you and your blog. Italics if you’re on the fence about something. Feel free to add anything I may have missed in the appropriate category, or recategorize something that is in the wrong place!

My blog is _______

Open to all - Semi-selective - Selective - Moderately Selective - Highly selective - Exclusive - Only going to RP with mutuals - Mostly going to RP with mutuals - Indie - Affiliated with a group - Spoiler free - Spoilers tagged - Spoilers mostly tagged - Not spoiler free

I will RP with ______

Any fandom - Most fandoms - Only Preferably fandoms I know - Only people in my fandom - OCs - OCs with no fandom ties - OCs who are related to/know my character in their backstory - Only one version of any particular character (depends) - People who have the same muse as me - People who do not have a rules page - Multimuse blogs  - People in RP groups - Indie RPers

When RPing, I like to use _______

Paragraphs - Shorter forms of text -  *Action* - Icons - Gifs - Gif icons - Formatted text- Whatever my partner is using - My own style regardless of my partner’s reply

I will ship with _______

No one (currently focusing on self improvement and friendships right now)- Anyone - Chemistry - Select ship - OCs - Others of my own muse  -Crossovers with characters from different fandoms - Only one version of a particular character - One person in my main verse - Multiship - One main/canon ship within my main verse

My blog WILL contain ______ in it’s content

Fluff - Angst - Gore - Violence - Smut - Blood -Torture - Shipping - Death (maybe?? Depends??) - Dark humor - Cheating - Assault

I will follow ______ back

Pretty much everyone - Only some people - Most people - Only people in my fandom - Every RP blog - Only people I actively wish to RP with - People who do not post a lot of OOC - People whose posts I am comfortable with on my dashboard

To RP with me, you should _______

Any of the following -> Follow back - Answer an open - Message me OOC - Message me IC - Make a starter - Answer my starter - Send in a meme - Like a starter call - Send me an ask starter

Other:

I practice reblog karma with memes - I expect reblog karma with memes - I expect my rules/about to be read - I always read the rules/about before following/interacting - If you follow me, I would like nsfw tagged - I expect all smut to be beneath a read-more - I am a multiverse blog - I am multi-muse - I do not wish for my OOC posts to be reblogged - I do not wish for my threads to be reblogged by those not involved - I expect post length to be matched - I expect icons/gifs to be used in a reply if I have used them - I don’t expect post length to be matched, but I will try to match yours - I am patient when waiting for replies and expect the same courtesy

Mmmm…I don’t really have RP friends sooooo umm…

//so Malibu Mun will pass to the other half of her brain @antvnger

[foxys-fantasy-tales]

OC in 15 or Fewer Tag

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Thank you for the tag @jezifster! My friend @fracturedfable suggested I do this for Maleth~

"You know, my commands used to carry a lot more weight around here. Now I have to stoop to mostly empty threats.”

2. “Your kindred were despised by the Order, as were most of mine. They don’t care much for anything beyond their control or anyone who wouldn’t bend when the tide changed.”

3. “I’ve long forgotten what her voice sounded like, but I’ll never lose her entirely."

4. “I finally reached you both. Do you have any idea how much work I put into this spell? How hard is it for both of you to be near a reflective surface?"

5. "Another mistake to add to my growing list, though from what I can see, I’m grateful sending you two down there together was not among them.”

6. “If you want alone time, you could simply ask."

7. “It would have turned any normal person to dust. You’re lucky you grabbed that relic first. You have enough energy to keep all of your spirits rooted to this plane after all.”

8. “While dreams can be glimpses past our consciousness, that does not mean that everything seen in them is to be taken at face value. At times, a dream is a dream."

9. “Keep your chin up. Down in the dumps does not suit you, and it does neither of you any good."

10. “You wish to send us back to the beginning. Is that the plan? Whatever it may be this time, I will not make the same mistake and lose twice.”

11. "I left all of them to look for the tower I am now sick to death of. I needed a book here, and now I find myself having read them all more times than I can count. Ironic at best, yet depressing most days.” 

12. “It was not I who brought the bastard in to commit the deed.  I recall you on your knees, half-dead and still begging us all for mercy for him. Whether it was his fault or not, that being should have never been invited into our town. We kept so many entities at bay, but you let the worst one in because of a pretty face.”

13. “You only want that to crack on the enemy, and surely not in the inn that already thought to evict you both after the last incident.” 

14.  “My point being, you cannot be so set on a path you forget to check your direction. You will end up lost."

15.

I waited.

I bid my time until it seemed right.

I waited and watched things gods would look away from.

All that remains is more of the same. 

If I raise my hand, far more will fall.

Wait.

Wait.

Wait. (The last is an entry from his journal that kills me.) Open tag for this one as it takes a heck of a lot of time and don't wanna pressure anyone ha. Just spent about two hours on this scouring documents.

[dovithedarklord]

Age of Monsters - Chapter Eight

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

...................................

Author's Note

The team receives new disturbing news, and Leona sets off on an exciting adventure with her two companions.

Hello!

I don't have a separate trigger warning for today's chapter, but I probably will next week! :) The story truly starts with this chapter, so have fun! :D

I.M.L. - Infected mammalian lifeform. I.H.L. - Infected humanoid lifeform.

if you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter Eight

.................................

I’m waiting with folded arms and with rather impatient tension for something to finally happen and for Laswell to appear, who called this little meeting together as urgently as if someone's life depended on it. And judging by how ominously Price stares at the screen sprawled on the wall, I can rightly assume that she's going to come up with something insanely interesting. And even though I was dragged here for the first time to sit through a briefing, I have enough brain capacity to understand what my presence means. It's clear the pleasant atmosphere that we shared recently and the miraculous survival of my forest trip gave them enough impetus to dare to send me to the idyllic location of one of their small operations, and I don't know if that should make me feel better. Because this could be a sign that, enjoying their complete trust, they will finally let me play a crucial role in a mission, but at the same time, they will also put a target on my pretty little body for the monsters. And it doesn't help that all my intuition tells me that it's a bad omen that I have to wait on pins and needles in the same room where I introduced myself to the Hunters two and a half months ago, tied up and freshly captured. The whole situation could be almost nostalgic, but instead, it sprinkles the surface of my brain with crumbs of foreboding.

The captain may already know something that not even one of his friends is aware of, because his gloomy mood doesn't rub off on the other people present, who are comfortably sitting in their chairs with the relaxation they have acquired over the years. And I suspect that they have already encountered one or two tricky situations, so the thought of another potentially deadly adventure tour doesn't raise their pulse. Of course, unlike them, I'm not excited at all by my possible little getaway, because even though I knew that I would inevitably join their operations, I secretly hoped that they would wait a few more months before throwing me into the deep water teeming with mutants. But Laswell seems to have other plans, and I await with suppressed and rather cynical curiosity what crazy idea she has come up with to take my mission-virginity.

And as if she sensed how often her name is mentioned in my little head, the door to the room opens, and the woman storms in with unprecedented haste, clutching a computer and a stack of papers in her hands. For a minute, I feel sorry for her worn state, which shows that sleep has been a rare guest for her in the past few days, but then my attention is focused on the troubled wrinkles deep on her face. Something serious had to stir up the stagnant sea of shit to cause such a disturbance in the whole aura of the woman, whom I had the pleasure of seeing only as the embodiment of confident calmness until now.

"I'm glad you're all here." Laswell nods towards our small group from the other end of the table, and as her blue eyes settle on me, a fleeting but sincere smile crosses her face. "Especially for you, Woods." The woman adds, and I am genuinely surprised by the sudden direct tone she takes on, because up until this moment, the wall of formality has stood between us as a strong boundary. But it seems that the exceptional role-model behavior that I channeled in these recent months has brought her closer to my humble person.

"What have you brought, Kate?" Price inquires before anyone else can speak, and there is an urgency in his voice, based on which my suspicions about the seriousness of the news that will soon be presented to us become even stronger. Although I haven't known the bearded man for long, I've studied him just enough to know that there's a limited amount of things that can shake him from his calm confidence. And I suspect I'm not the only one who notices this, because the mood of the other Hunters also turns progressively grimmer in the blink of an eye, as they assess the not-so-promising vibrations of their captain's and the woman's behavior.

A quick glance from Laswell is enough for me to understand the potential risks of the information she has brought us today, as she arranges her small packages on the table to begin the briefing. And this makes me instinctively straighten up in my chair, because I have a strong suspicion that I will have to soak up all the information like a sponge in order to avoid as many necessary unpleasant experiences as I can during my upcoming adventure.

"Two days ago, a merchant group left for Colony no. 20." Laswell begins, and breathes life into her computer with practiced movements, and then, after a few skillful button presses, unveils the data she has collected on the screen resting on the wall. A more or less sharp recording appears on the display, which, based on the location, could be at one of the gates of the wall surrounding the colony. The whole interaction, caught on the security camera, seems ridiculously ordinary, where the leader of the small team is probably negotiating with one of the soldiers guarding the wall. But what goes on in the video glowing in a bluish tint looks so routine and harmless, that I dismiss the idea that the mischievous little group might have been dealing with some illegal activity, and that's why it's important to mention them to us. "They went on the designated route, but their signal disappeared at the border of the red zone and the uncontrolled region." The woman continues, and as a map appears, with the red flashing dot where their last recorded signal was possibly seen, I recognize that this story indeed ended in a not so illegal, but rather bloody manner.

To be fair, this wouldn't be such a rare occurrence, because the red zone itself hides many dangers, but those who dare to go even beyond that will have a rather eventful journey ahead of them. The areas that are outside the zones delimiting the colonies are not called uncontrolled regions for nothing, since someone only goes there if they absolutely have to, or if they feel an irresistible desire to be deprived of their limbs. And for those who have been selected for this noble career path, or who have joined such a group on their own accord, the constant danger to their lives is no stranger to them. Even if their colony is so gallant and selfless that it assigns a Hunter to accompany them between the two endpoints of their journey. But something tells me that a whole new kind of worrisome factor has emerged in connection with the unfortunate destruction of the merchant team just mentioned, because this small brigade specializing in special cases wouldn't deal with this story, if the biggest problem was a simple everyday mutant attack.

"I.M.L.s?" Price asks the obvious, but his tone reveals that he doesn't believe that the monsters' rampage is the only reason why the woman has such a troubled expression on her face. And we don't even have to wait long for the explanation, because Laswell conjures up another shot on the screen the next moment, and the image of a car windshield and the landscape filtering through it appears before us.

"This was recorded by the on-board camera of one of the cars. The officials on patrol rescued it." The woman adds the marginal note next to the small piece of evidence, and based on this it becomes quite clear that it isn't worth counting on any kind of happy ending.

The recording begins with an idyll similar to the material recorded on the previous security camera, and through the bumping vehicle, a view of the passing scenery can be seen in all its glory, which may once have been a busy highway, judging by the many rusty wrecks that appear scattered on the side of the road. The uneventfulness that unfolds before us from the other side of the screen is ominous, knowing that the passengers are probably living through their last minutes of life. The noise of a soft conversation filters into the room through the video, as the people in the car discuss information about the shipment, and I instinctively feel the tense anticipation that prepares my mind for the catastrophe that will surely occur, because it's guaranteed to make its appearance in the widescreen. But no matter how well I prepare for the worst, even this doesn't make me ready for how, next to the vehicle moving in front of the people recording, a ruthlessly large dark spot suddenly appears from behind the skeleton of one of the wreckage. And even though I know how strong these bastards are, I'm still amazed at how easily the mutant pushes the multi-ton vehicle away with a ridiculously simple movement. The people in the video try to stop their car almost immediately amid loudly screeching brakes, and the on-board camera shakes wildly from the force of the sudden halt, but still reports on the events. But when those, presumably coming behind them, crash into them from behind accompanied by an even more obscene noise, then the chaos is unleashed. For a moment, the image becomes hard to dechiper, as the car sways forward from the force of the impact and the camera drifts off the dashboard, and only the faded shouts of the passengers break through from behind the erratic frames. There is a small break in the recording, then the broadcast returns after a short wait, and I am not one bit happier about it, as I assess what kind of novelty greets me. Because by the time the events recorded by the camera become sharp again, only the last act of the futile fight remains, where a few armed men try to decimate the beasts that cross the road. Despite the angle of the camera turned to the side, it’s clear that the fight is unfortunately hopeless, because there are many more of these monsters, and they easily crush the people to the ground, who, although they disappear from the recorded material this way, the stomach-turning crunching of bones, the wet smacking of organs and the pain-distorted screams of the victims still reach my ears perfectly. And that could be the end of the whole horrible incident, but it seems that some new friends of the mutants who are eating their snacks want to get in on the fun as well. As soon as a couple of once human-like, but now extremely distorted creatures appear and join in the feast without any disturbance, as if they had improvised a fucking picnic, I suddenly understand that Laswell's dramatic entrance was nowhere near exaggerated.

"Are those I.H.L.'s?" Bursts out the shocked question from Garrick, and the disbelief on his face perfectly reflects the sinister mood slowly appearing in the room. And at this development, the bad foreboding that had painted the woman's face since her arrival began to well up in me.

The very fact that people don't just pass away when bitten these scumbag mutants would be enough to cause a frenzied panic among the common people. When the virus broke out, people quite simply died of the infection, because in some magical way, the little pathogen was incompatible with our bodies. Therefore, until now, everyone has spent their everyday lives in the safe dream bubble that their survival is unquestionable within the walls of the colonies, but if they are attacked by these feral beings, even though they will probably end up in several pieces, they will depart this life with dignity. But when the first mutant humans appeared a year and a half ago, everyone shat bricks. This meant that the virus had undergone enough evolution for humans to become sympathetic hosts for it, and of course, governments have remained silent on this ever since, as the danger seemed negligible. Because even though this factor posed a risk, thankfully the unfortunate idiot who was gnawed by an I.M.L. only turned into the brainless, deformed fool, similarly to the infected mammals fifty years ago, and so it was relatively easy to free them from their suffering. They didn't need to be turned into a pasta strainer by bullets, because they were less tough than the mutants, so anyone could take them down with a few shots. Not to mention, that even though both types of mutants were affected by the same disease, the I.M.L.s took great pleasure in tearing apart their humanoid friends. Until now.

"Why didn't the I.M.L.s attack them?" I'm turning my attention to the problem that concerns me the most, because the fact that mutants don't kill I.H.L.s is a fairly new piece of information that even I didn't have the luck to observe, even though I've been studying these bastards for nearly six years. The little monsters unmistakably befriended each other, as if they had become a real big, grotesque family, and this starts a series of very threatening assumptions in my head, which immediately demand a solution.

"This is exactly what we want to get an answer to." Laswell sighs, and her gaze returns to the frozen image of the already stopped video. The recording is too short to draw far-reaching conclusions from this little tidbit, but it contains just enough frightening detail to put a serious worry on the face of everyone present. Since this is a huge slap that pushes us down to the depths of the sea of shit and helps us drown. Because although it doesn't matter why these two previously hostile species ally, the end-result is the same. Destruction. "Fortunately, we identified the nest where the infected life forms probably came from." She continues her explanation, and brings the map up on the screen again, where now, next to the location marking the unfortunate death of the traders, another brightly flashing small dot has appeared.

"They settled among the ruins of the city." Price concludes, and I'm not surprised at how easily he identifies the details appearing on the enlarged map, because I have the feeling that he knows the entire red zone like the back of his hand. "Where's the nest?" He immediately gets to the point, his voice takes on an objective tone, and his eyes search every available square centimeter of the area revealed on the screen with such intensity that it's clear that he is already starting to fabricate the details of the mission in his mind.

"Based on the information from the patrols, they're probably hiding in an old subway tunnel." Laswell turns to her computer again, and she suddenly zooms in on the area that houses the potential nest, where a neon yellow flashing band surrounds the zone identified as the target. And although the picture decorated with superficial and simplified figures doesn't tell me much, I still guess the fact that the location of the mission has a rather large diameter. A vast, desolate no-man's land, full of ruined buildings, where the potential attack surfaces of mutants are limited only by the imagination, and where a life-threatening surprise can emerge from behind every concrete monster built by humans. Fabulous.

But it seems that, unlike me, the small team is not so pessimistic, because they don’t seem to be horrified by the possibility of fighting their heroic little battle in an arena where a cute mutant monster can shred them into a confetti around every corner. Moreover, the captain looks at the map with at least as much indifference as if he were admiring a painting from the archives.

"Tricky field, but we've seen worse." Price notes with a sour smile on his lips. And if I take the tale he told me during our first drink together into account, I don’t doubt that he has indeed seen far greater horrors than a ruined city hiding ghosts and man-eating brutes. This mission seems like a peaceful holiday in comparison, where the team-building activity will be the creative killing of mutants.

"At least we can surprise these bastards." MacTavish remarks confidently, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin on his face, from which it's quite clear that he has already assembled the details of the vile little traps in his head, with which he intends to make the promise hidden in his words come true. And if I only think about the creativity with which he carries out my torture, I'm certain he will use enough cruel little tricks in a real mission too.

"The primary command is to terminate the nest. Colony Leader Shepherd contacted us because he wants to put a certain end to the matter." Laswell nails the details down strictly, and at the mention of the name of the man leading Colony no. 17, I understand that this problem must have got the head of the government in a flap. Of course, I am not surprised, because the existence of the I.H.L.s has been top secret until now, and the news providers skillfully withheld this small piece of information from the public, which has been filling researchers and official bodies with horror for some time now. Because if the people were to find out that from now on they won't be able to get away with just kicking the bucket in the event of a bite, then the idyllic peace would surely end. "But keep your eyes open in case we get more information about the phenomenon." The woman adds, looking at all the members of the gathering, and judging by her voice, she mostly wants them to find answers to the dozens of desperate questions. And there is absolutely no doubt that it will depend on this action whether the house of cards of peace and security that has been carefully built so far will collapse or not.

"Who do you want to send?" Price turns to the head of the base again, thus breaking the short silence that had set in, and to this question, all the potential candidates raise their gaze to the woman at the same time, and it’s clear that all of them would gladly and preferably immediately throw themselves into the action. At first glance, either of Hunters would be a great choice, which immediately makes me think that this is probably why Shepherd turned to a private unit. He doesn't want the operation to receive more attention than it should (mostly none) even by chance, because he knows what it would cause if the civilian population found out about what he has been hiding from them with tooth and nail so far. And although it may seem heartless to take away the people's right to obtain information, blissful ignorance is much better than chaos and panic. What nobody knows doesn't give anybody naughty ideas about rebellion. It's enough if only brutal, human tanks like Unit 141 care about such little things.

"Ghost will lead the operation, and Soap, you'll go with him too. I'll leave it up to you who they take with you, but they can't be new recruits under any circumstances. We have to anticipate that the mission will be risky." Laswell directs her words to the two men, who nod in agreement to the instructions given. It was smart of the woman to highlight this detail, because it's almost a dead certainty that the newbies would end up as fresh, savory meat after meeting the mutants. "Woods, you're going with them too. Due to the potential danger, they'll need a Healer on site." She gives me her orders as she raises her blue eyes at me, and I am not at all surprised by this development. Until now, I was quite sure that this top-secret information wasn't being shown to me by accident. And the possibilities that seem to be taking shape in my head promise a rather life-threatening outcome, one by one. Still, despite all this, the phenomenon seen in the video arouses sparks of curiosity in me, which makes me want to go on a study trip among the ruins full of dangers. Mainly because the information has the potential to destroy the security that has been built for fifty years. And I'd better check it out up close. "However, your most important task will be observation. You have professional experience in the subject."

"Makes sense." I give only this succinct answer to Laswell's significant hint, and it reassures me that she doesn't only see me as a spare, living first aid kit, but assigns me a chore that is truly suitable for me. I don't doubt that the Hunters have seen enough of these scums to know what's unusual and what's not, but it doesn't hurt to have my sharp eyes on the scene too, just in case I observe something suspicious that might escape others' attention. It seems that she didn't run through my file superficially, but engraved the important factors deep into her gray matter, and although this is a self-evident fact for a person in such an important position, she still manages to soften my dark little heart by caressing my pride.

Of course, the fact that MacTavish and Riley will be my companions in this rather risky adventure fills me with just the right amount of nervousness and cynicism for a moment. My gaze automatically finds the masked man sitting on the other side of the table, whose brown eyes are studying the map on the screen with intense attention, and although he gives the appearance of calmness, his entire figure imperceptibly pulsates with impatient tension.

I don't refute for a minute that the two Hunters will do their jobs with brutal efficiency, but the hatchet buried between Riley and me is still fresh enough for me to welcome the possibility of working together with complete peace of mind. It may well be that since the test in the wilderness, our previously bloody altercations have softened into creative little verbal battles, but that still hasn't silenced the voices of suspicion in me. While I don't think he still wants to get rid of me, I'm not so foolish and naive as to think he won't leave me behind without hesitation if it comes down to it. He will have the success of the mission in mind, and unfortunately, besides that, my physical health will be very far behind in the order of importance. And this is undoubtedly an obvious fact, which helps me to see, that it will be better to make a plan from A to Z for the eventuality, if I will have to rely only on myself to save my pretty little rear.

And as if sensing my momentary struggle, one of MacTavish's big hands moves on my shoulder encouragingly, and the warm grip of his fingers beneficially breaks me out of the web of assumptions in my head. As I turn towards the man sitting next to me for a fleeting moment, and my gaze meets his blue eyes, I manage to catch the lively little sparks dancing in them.

"Don't worry, we'll take good care of ya!" The Hunter reassures me, and the corner of his mouth is pulled into a smile that radiates understanding and warmth, and even I am surprised at how quickly the nerve that has been moving unnoticed in my stomach responds and lets go of its starting grip. But I'm slowly getting used to the fact that, despite how relaxed and carefree MacTavish seems to be, he can pinpoint when the aura of one of his companions changes. And now that it seems, that I too will receive such privileges from him, my nervousness about the mission eases a bit.

"I strongly suggest, you do." I throw my comment at him with a rather cheeky edge, but despite all my skepticism, I know that if it's up to him, I will most certainly return with all my limbs intact. And this assurance seems to confirm that it was indeed a good idea for me to join this fun outing even more. It's true that it would be an adequate reason for me that the unknown and rapid escalation of the I.H.L. situation fills me with curiosity, as it threatens with potentially worldwide dangers that even my crafty little self wouldn't be able to get away from. But without a doubt, the fact that I would like to escort this man, and possibly his dangerous and less sociable friend home safely, is a very compelling motive for me to stay with them more willingly. I have no illusions about how useful I'll be to them, but it never hurts to have someone there to patch them up if one of the vile creatures attacks them.

"Let's get to the plan." Laswell directs the attention back to the mission, and with routine movements, she slides us a significant part of the stack of papers she brought with her, which at first glance contains even more thorough information about the area that houses the previously mentioned nest, as well as the details of the unfortunate accident that happened to the traders. Intrigued, I reach for one of the documents, which contains the patrol’s report about what was found at the scene of the accident, and as my lively little fingers find the paper, a gloved hand with bony details appears in front of me, and it targets one of the documents, also looking for knowledge. It's automatic how my gaze is intertwined with Riley's dark eyes for a fleeting moment, and this small instant is enough for me to see the seriousness prevailing in his features. And I can't decide whether this gloominess speaks to the worrisome nature of the whole mission or to the cooperation with me. But it doesn't matter what he's stressed about, because he's involuntarily driving the foreboding in the back of my skull back to where MacTavish just drove it away from. Because, if a seasoned professional Hunter like him suddenly feels the need to become more cautious before a mission, then it's time for me to pull myself together, because my life will really be at stake here. And I'm quite adamant that I don't bite the bullet at such a young age. It would be a shame for me.

So, taking the report in front of me, I begin to study it, and with half my attention, I listen intently as every little detail of our trip slowly unfolds with the leading of Laswell and Price. And in the meantime, I'm starting to hope that karma doesn't see this as a good opportunity to collect my debt for the many shits I've committed over the years. Because that would affect me terribly sensitively.

⃰*

The night landscape slips past us with an uncomfortable silence, as we slowly but surely move towards the designated destination. My stomach has shrunk to the size of a tennis ball since the beginning of the journey, and despite my confident mask, it's actively pumping out pleasant waves of stress all over my body. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't filled with increasing anxiety about the fact that, for the first time in my life, I'm wandering in such an area that was mostly talked about in only horror stories, and I'd be a fool if that wasn't the case. After all, it wasn't by chance that the zones were drawn around the colonies. This was done precisely so that even the weak-minded know where they should never venture, unless they have incredibly suicidal tendencies. And yet I'm heading right to the middle of the red zone for a nice evening party.

Even though the silvery light of the full moon illuminates the desolate area, it doesn't ease my suspicions about the dangers lurking in the shadows. Here, from behind every bush, tree, and ruin, there can be a danger to the wanderer, and that is why it frustrates me how calm the Hunters are throughout the whole car ride. In the back of the huge van, I may be the only one with ominous tension bubbling over, because neither the Hunters sitting across from me nor the soldiers traveling with us seem particularly excited about the festivities that will soon begin. I could attribute this to the fact that this isn't their first rodeo, but it's probably the hundredth, if not the thousandth time they've visited these barren, bleak regions, but it doesn't fill me with any more confidence. Although the discussed plan seems almost foolproof, and every single contingency has been discussed with unnerving precision, the likelihood of possible unexpected threats still lingers in my skull inexorably.

I divert my gaze from the wasteland that passes behind the car window, promising countless deadly surprises, and it suddenly seems like a much better idea to assess my companions assigned to me for today's mission. Both men are armed up to the chin, with ammunition hidden in every corner of their tactical vests, prepared to take action, which is only natural, because unlike me, they will really be intimately involved with the mutants. Despite everything, MacTavish examines the assault riffle clutched in his hand almost cheerfully, checking with the routine movements one would expect from a man trained as a killer from childhood. I’m not taken aback by his experienced firearms handling technique, but rather by the casual attitude that he managed to bring with him even here, from which an outside observer could believe that we're really just out for a peaceful weekend trip with this sweet little group. And I suspect that this carefree behavior has something to do with the fact that the mere mortals who are with us need this little bit of reinforcement so that they can throw themselves into the midst of danger with the right morale. And if this is the goal, then the Scottish man fulfills his task brilliantly.

However, his partner sitting next to him is a completely different story. Riley's whole being has the tension of a spring ready to jump, and maybe the soldiers don't notice it, but it's no coincidence that I've spent the last few months studying him. And now it seems like a much more pleasant pastime to analyze him than to think about the potential loss of my own physical integrity. It doesn't escape my attention as his long, gloved fingers tighten around his own gun, and in the dim light from the car's instruments, there's a grim shine in those dark eyes. Perhaps a touch of seriousness from the leader of the mission would be natural, but I have the stray idea that his unusually quiet behavior is due to my presence. Although he didn't openly express his displeasure, it's quite obvious to me that he doesn't like the idea of me dragging my pretty ass to this nest sweep. I'd like to think that maybe he finally found his humanity and that prompts him to worry, but the voice of reality tells me that it probably just immeasurably angers him that he had to carry a useless and, above all, hindering element with him. The assumption might hurt me a little, but I'm also aware that, unlike them, I'm not nearly as effective at killing, even with blood sticking to my lovely little hands. Fortunately, my role will be realized at a safe distance from the events, which I hope won't be thwarted by any unexpected twists.

"We're getting close, sir." The driver alerts us, breaking my undisturbed contemplation, and I just curiously lean forward to take a look at the concrete road swimming in the headlight of the vehicle, at the end of which, shrouded in soot darkness, the shadows of the buildings that once housed tens of thousands of people can be seen. Fifty years ago, a flood of colorful lights and deafening noise would have signaled the existence of such a large city, but now it's nothing more than a pile of buildings on the verge of rotting and crumbling, whose empty skeletons give way only to revived vegetation and bloodthirsty monsters.

"Stop here." Riley orders, and now he also directs his attention to the outline of the city's border, and then his hand almost automatically finds the radio on his tactical vest. "It's Hunter 0-15. We've reached the edge of the combat zone. We're going to stop here and continue on foot." He announces in a firm voice, informing the other two cars behind us that we have arrived at the starting point of our fun little adventure. And for me, this one factor is enough to mentally pull myself together, because from now on, stress and worry will become a luxury if I want to complete this task. Which will also mean my survival.

The car slows to a stop in the middle of the road, and I instinctively reach for the camera attached to my tactical vest, checking that it's still resting rock-solid next to the other gear as Garrick attached it before our little team was sent on its merry way. Laswell gave me the small device after I raised the idea that maybe it would be easier to get data that way, which my brain, not driven by adrenaline and total burnout, might process more easily later. I'm sure my sharp eyes will take in enough information, but no human being is perfect, and surprisingly, not even me.

"Let's go." Riley gives his instructions to the passengers in the van, gets up from his seat ready for action, and opens the back door of the van easily to step out into the warm night air. MacTavish and the other two soldiers huddled in the back dutifully follow their leader tonight, but I take advantage of these few seconds to collect my thoughts. It's okay, Leona. You stay behind, observe, and after these two madman and their entourage have bulldozed all the beasts, you comfortably ride home with them. Plain and simple. Still, the unpleasant tension that awakens in the depths of my consciousness warns me not to count my chickens before they're hatched, because that will be the last thing I do.

And the cautious feeling ringing my alarm bells gives me the impetus to leave the empty vehicle and join the small council of people gathered outside, and as soon as my eyes get used to the visual conditions outside, I also stroll closer to the briefing. Riley stands out from the group like a real giant, and for some reason in the moonlight, his whole being has a very otherworldly effect. The skull attached to his mask looks even more terrifying now, and his figure, swollen with power and piled high with weapons, is at least as scary as if a modern-day grim reaper had sprung out from nowhere. However, there's something strangely reassuring about the way he looks over the crowd with a firm stance, because I get the feeling that even if he's rather grumpy about my presence, he's got everything and everyone under control, so nothing can slip past him. And I want to lull myself in this dream, more than anything.

"The Watcher team stays behind and secures the edge of the combat zone." The masked man begins his last explanation, and in the meantime, he turns to four soldiers, who, after acknowledging the instruction with a short nod, head towards the road in front of us and almost immediately start placing the explosives carried in heavy bags.

According to Price's reasoning, the edge of the combat zone, or the point where our small escape vehicles are waiting for us, is always equipped with some kind of trap, so that if it's time to retreat, the mutants following the escapees will have one last surprise, which will have enough punch so that the bastards kick the bucket. Of course, they usually hope that most emerging threats will be neutralized at the beginning of the combat zone, at the starting point of active fights, but leaving the possibility, no matter how small, to chance is insanely stupid. That said, I hope with a wild passion that the final fireworks don't happen, because that would mean our little venture has failed miserably. And that would mean a lot of death.

"The Hunter team is coming to the nest with me." Riley continues, and when he only gets a nod of agreement or a shout of "yes, sir" from everyone, he doesn't even waste any more time, but the burning light in his eyes flares up, which is the only sign that now he too felt the need to activate his rather dangerous power. And if possible, this makes the harmless aura emanating from him even more dangerous than before. "Let's go." He issues his final order, and grasping his weapon, he begins his decisive march on the road leading to the heart of the city, and the little soldiers snapping on their night vision goggles, follow him like little ducks.

"Keep up, Woods!" MacTavish suddenly appears next to me, and one of his gloved hands pats my back encouragingly, perhaps in an effort to somewhat reduce the tension that is surely radiating from me. And he succeeds, because as soon as I turn to him and take in the red glow of the otherwise bright blue eyes, I immediately sober up. "Stay behind me until we get to the observation post." He advises, and after a last uplifting smile, he also sets off on the rather risky path ahead of us.

With a strained sigh, I start the camera mounted on my chest, then, clutching my machine gun slung over my shoulder, I run after the group, and following the recommendation of the Hunter with the mohawk, I hide in his shadow and also begin to sneak skillfully. And now I thank the man in front of me and his crazy friend many times over, for tormenting me so enthusiastically every goddamned day, because the pace dictated by Riley, who is in the lead, is much more bearable than it would have been before my endurance was boosted.

Despite the hurried speed, the entire team moves in familiar unity, and runs through every corner of the surrounding landscape with such thoroughness that it's clear that the two Hunters brought experienced warriors with them. And the rush of the masked man and the fact that he wants to get to the destination as soon as possible is understandable, because even though these mutant bastards retreat to their nest for the night to have an intimate slumber party together, they can still appear and surprise us at any moment. There is never a good time to sweep out nests, but perhaps the cover of night offers the best chance to attack them unexpectedly. Of course, this doesn't neutralize the fact that, while the limited visibility is not necessarily a problem for the Hunters' cunning little abilities, and perhaps not even for my cute little eyes, the small accompanying squad of ordinary people has every reason to be cautious. They aren’t protected by super sharp senses or superstrength, or even by my self-healing ability, which is less useful in other circumstances, so it's a very likely scenario that they meet their maker after one mistake. And yet, they move forward resolutely and with cold calmness, without any hesitation, and I have to give them credit for their dedication.

As we move further into the road, the rusty piles of wreckage resembling cars slowly disappear, and their place is replaced by the towering frames of buildings wild with green vegetation, which tell of carefree times lost long ago. An eerie silence descends on the whole area, and apart from the soft tapping of several pairs of booted feet, nothing else makes noise in the emptiness of the deserted streets. The moon covers the whole place in a flood of white light, and the broken glass of the vacant stores, and the lush, emerald carpets of moss growing on the walls glisten in it, and this peaceful sight could even be cozy if I didn't know what chaos has driven this place and millions of its peers around the world into desolation. Although all traces of the massacre that took place over here decades ago have almost certainly disappeared, an abandoned shoe frozen in dirt, an overturned, filthy and torn baby carriage on the edge of the sidewalk, or even an empty suitcase lying open, all reveal the horrors that happened here. And though I am by no means a sentimental fool, yet I have to forcibly fix my gaze on the back of MacTavish, marching unperturbed before me, before I can find more forgotten things, which could bring its sad and rather bloody origin to my mind. Because the ghosts of the people who died here haunt these horrible mementos, and I don't have the slightest desire to devote my attention to them instead of my own survival. As selfish as that may sound.

Minutes that seem like hours pass before we are sufficiently swallowed up by the sea of ruins, and the overpass designated as an observation point appears on the horizon, reaching high and crossing the road leading us to our destination. It stands out gloomily from the deteriorating buildings and rests alone above the empty square, where only the charred wrecks of cars bear witness to the fact that the road section once arched over the busy urban maelstrom. It's ideally separated and high enough for me to be able to observe the events from a safe distance, yet it fills me with the right amount of anxiety that only a narrow kilometer will separate me from being in immediate danger. According to Laswell, this is a favorable position for me, but based on the distance I've covered so far, it's clear that I only have a hair's breadth more chance to escape if something goes wrong. A few minutes is the only advantage, which further consolidates the keen attention in me, which has been kept awake by the adrenaline spreading in slow waves in my veins until now. If it wasn't clear by now that I'd better be on the lookout, it's a dead certainty now.

As we reach the beginning of the winding stairs leading to the overpass, the soldiers sneaking in front of me slow down, and I turn from my previous speed down just in time before I bump into the Scottish Hunter. Obediently, the small group separates in front of Riley to make way for the man walking towards me with measured steps, and as he gets close enough to me, I'm blocked from prying eyes by him and MacTavish, who turns towards me too. My presence didn't elicit any reaction from the soldiers participating in the mission, yet I know that the edge of doubt they felt towards me didn't completely disappear from them. And maybe that's why it's much more pleasant than it should be that these two people, the size of a small mountain, are now shielding me from unwanted attention.

"Take the observation position and keep an eye on the action with the binoculars. Record everything." The masked Hunter gives me his short instructions, and his eyes, glowing like liquid fire, stare seriously at my face, looking for possible resistance. He will be disappointed, because I have absolutely no motivation to argue with his suggestion. "Don't leave the position. Stay here until further orders." He emphasizes this rather important detail, and it's not difficult for me to notice how his eyebrows run together from the strict expression, from which the grimness also settles in his deep voice.

"It didn't even occur to me to do otherwise." I signal back to him about my intentions, and with this, it seems, despite the breath of sarcasm hidden in my voice, I successfully convince him that I really don’t wish to get any closer to the epicenter of their entertaining activities. Even so, I will enjoy spending time alone, which means just a little more security.

It seems that it's once again MacTavish's turn to bring calmness to the situation, which is becoming more and more tense, but not due to my behavior this once. It's clear, judging by Riley's more than usual sinister aura, that today's operation is bombarding his mind with the possibility of dubious outcomes just as much as it does to mine. But he hides it well, because it may not be the first time that he has to sweep these intuitions behind the wall of professionalism to be able to perform his task effectively. And I suspect that this may also have something to do with his partner, who always senses when he needs to act to lighten the mood.

"Don't worry, it's all routine work." The Hunter with the mohawk focuses his gaze on me, which shines bright red in the darkness, and he takes a small step closer to me, trying to radiate the reassuring aura towards me with his whole being, but it's emanating from his word just as sufficiently too. And for some reason, even I am amazed by the confidence with which he can act so casually, when we all know that this mission could be much more than the average and mundane killing that they carry out. Because it's possible that due to the rapid mutation of the virus, we are facing a danger that has never been seen before. Still, it's ridiculously good to hear his encouragement. Because even my paranoid brain believes that all will be fine.

"I'm sure it is." I note easily despite the doubts in my mind, and even this few-word answer is enough for the man to conjure up an enthusiastic half-smile on his beard-framed mouth, and one of his big hands once again finds my shoulder and pats it for the second time tonight. Although I normally don't let anyone get close enough to perform such friendly gestures, I let him and his little crew give me such pleasant attention. And now the vice-like grasp of worry that grips my insides happily relaxes its hold at the small movement of the Hunter.

"But take care of yourself and let me know if somethin' happens!" He insists with a gentle tone, and despite all his firm positivity, the small concern that may have arisen in him because of my presence filters through his voice. I don't think he's doubting my abilities with this, instead, he might be just afraid of unexpected surprises. And based on the faintly outlined wrinkles on his forehead, he already has enough expertise to know, that there isn't an impossible event that can be ruled out with absolute certainty in an operation like this. Thus, he may rightfully have uncertainties about my protected position.

“Don't underestimate the effectiveness of my training, MacTavish." I raise my head, and now my lips also bend upwards in a rather cheeky and self-confident arch, to alleviate the concerns he has shown towards me. This effort is instinctive, because the fact that I'm distracting him from his potentially life-threatening entertainment depresses me even more than the uncertainty lurking on us. If it's a problem, I'll solve it somehow. Like I always did. "If I were you, I'd be more worried about my own safety." I point towards him with my head, glancing briefly at his figure dressed in combat gear and the large weapon clutched in his hand. As the force that makes the Hunters stand out from the crowd is actively raging in his body, his posture changes completely, and I can almost see the red-burning energy, which makes them almost invincible, bubbling under the muscles ready to attack.

"Don't ya worry about that! This isn't the first nest we've taken care of." MacTavish reminds me, straightening himself out with such confidence, that makes him look like the poster boy for a real, proud Hunter, as he weaves his fingers into his vest with his free hand. I know that with this light banter, he wants to calm my, everyone else's and probably his uneasiness as well about the guaranteed and smooth success of the mission, so I decide to banish the ominous voices that warn me of the possible problems to the back of my skull for a minute.

"I hope so. I don't feel like cleaning up after you." I note with a rather mischievous edge, but in spite of this, it's clear that he feels the message behind my words. It would be impossible for me to break the guy's goal-oriented confidence, but for the first time, I choose to put my pride aside, and at the gate of the threat, I rather release what's waiting to come out from my mouth from the stress that is raging freely inside me. "So take care of yourselves." I say, and my wish sounds more like a warning, as I raise my eyes meaningfully to the two Hunters, unspokenly asking them to come back for me in one piece and as unharmed as possible at the end of the whole damn party.

"I'll do that!" The Scottish man assures me, and when Riley considers the conversation finished and turns to the soldiers who are waiting for them, his cheerful little friend also pulls himself together and heads towards the small group, clutching his weapon. "Don't forget to use your callsign, Viper!" He shouts back to me, mentioning the funny little nickname he came up with while we were drinking, saying it was just the right time to be gifted with a callsign to match my sneaky little attack methods. It was a most fitting, yet terribly unjustified move on his part, but I feel as if it brought me one step closer to him and his small team.

"Oh, for God's sake…" I sigh in agony, but I can't wipe the faint smile from my face, because despite the fact that I would probably swallow my own tongue rather than use this name, regardless, my dark little being is warmed by the man's attention.

And as I monitor the small group slowly setting off again, my eyes meet the masked Hunter for a fleeting glance, who only hesitates for a moment before leaving, but that's enough for him to say goodbye to me with a curt nod. And I forcefully suppress the surprise that arises in me from this impossibly short interaction, because although the distance and dislike between the two of us have improved a lot, this gesture is still a very surprising novelty. Although I also had to fight against my self-esteem and my previous habits when I asked them to protect their own physical integrity, even this small gesture from the man is equal to the miracle that happens once every leap year. And that gives me the impossible thought that maybe he wouldn't like it if I bit the dust here. How nice. And maybe it wouldn't be happy either, if he met his end.

Before I can weave the long web of my assumptions even further, I decide that it's time for me to fulfill the task assigned to me, and guided by this, I start off to the stairs leading to the overpass, leaping up on the rickety and crumbling steps two at a time, so that I can be at my designated observation point as soon as possible. And when I reach the wide road, I take quick steps through the area full of potholes, so that when I get to its edge closer to the nest, I can take up the position, which I hopefully will keep from now on. With my eyes, I almost immediately find the brigade moving away in the darkness, and reaching for my own radio, I turn it on with my fingers, so that I can join in on the events, albeit from a distance. I am greeted by silence for a moment, but then I hear the murmur of quiet instructions and feedback coming through, based on which the progress of things so far has been encouragingly problem-free and uneventful.

As soon as the members of the team are reduced to tiny specks the size of ants, I fish out my binoculars from the side pouch attached to my belt to follow Riley's recommendation. As I raise the neat little device in front of me, the slowly sneaking figures appear crystal clear again. They are moving steadily along the road littered with debris and abandoned vehicles, and so far it doesn't seem like any difficulties will cross their path. It's no wonder, since they move with such precision as a pack of wolves scouting for its prey, none of whose members shows any sign of fear, but unwaveringly rush forward after their leader.

"We split up at the alley behind the building." Riley's deep voice filters right into my ears, and through the binoculars, I can see his tall figure standing out at the front of the group as he points to the buildings on both sides of the street with his hand. I look around and understand why he is doing this. At the end of the road and beyond the intersection, at the feet of a late skyscraper, there is the bottomless, dark hole-like entrance of the subway tunnel that is home to the creatures for whom we came here so enthusiastically today. Although it seems deserted, the eerie emptiness of the stairs leading underground somehow brings back the suspicion that MacTavish previously banished. I don't like the silence one bit, because it puts the same anticipatory tension in my limbs that I felt in the forest. And as it turns out, my womanly instincts are quite accurate in detecting when something is wrong. Still, I steel my nerves and warn myself of the fact that, unlike me, the soldiers reaching the goal and the Hunters leading them are not beginners, and they can certainly assess this situation, which is full of risks, more realistically.

As they reach the point marked as the beginning of the combat zone, they stop for a moment, and the masked Hunter hands out his further orders with a silent hand signal, and despite this, his men standing behind him immediately know what he wants to convey with his hands gesturing towards the ruined buildings rising above them on both sides. Even this unspoken instruction is enough for them to understand what they should do, and when Riley departs towards the side street opening from the right, the members of his team obediently separate from the others. Without any hesitation, the other five soldiers follow their example with similar speed, and soon after are absorbed by the shadows in the alley on the other side. And so only MacTavish and a handful of his small team remain at the end of the road they have followed so far, but they don't waste time, but sneak with deliberate steps to the beginning of the intersection, and then, under the guidance of the Hunter, they immediately start working diligently. One of his men unfastens his large backpack from his back with lightning-quick movements, and as all the tools necessary for the nasty little surprise are displayed, the fantastic experiences I witnessed in the forest awaken in me. I wasn't wrong about that whoever came up with the fun little gadgets hidden there was a scumbag, but contrary to my assumption, it was probably meant to give the little Hunter apprentices a first-hand experience of what it's like to suffer at the hands of their own stuff. Just to feel and understand what the weapons that they themselves hide to kill the bastard mutants are capable of. But now MacTavish and his minions, according to the detailed information from Price, are setting up equipment even more evil than the one that tormented me.

The sensors, that they attach to the walls of the buildings blocking the road, are almost invisible, and the tiny packages that are placed with perfect geometric precision in a line behind the sensors disappear even more cunningly among the debris and cracks of the road. I'm not fooled by how small the bombs seem, though, because I know they'll easily tear apart anything unlucky enough to stray near them. This nifty little solution isn't enough to finish off all of the nest's inhabitants, but it's just enough to deal with the first wave of beasts that come out. And according to Price's explanation, this gives the team just enough of an advantage to take care of the rest with the dozens of weapons they brought with them. Maybe I should thank fate that I didn't walk into a beauty like this, because now I would probably be a few limbs poorer. Provided I miraculously survived the meeting.

I see the serendipitous soldier who appears and sticks a sensor to the side of the building that is standing next to the nest for a fleeting moment, and this is the only sign that the small troops that disappeared into the darkness of the side streets have successfully bypassed the structures and arrived at the roads opening from the intersection. And although they are hidden by the walls of the truncated buildings and the shadows stretching out from them, I can still see how the clever little hands are working, and with hasty, but no less routine movements, they set up their own gifts for their little monsters.

The whole thing only takes a few minutes, and every detail falls into place, turning the area into a deadly obstacle, because in this way the nest dwellers are trapped on all sides of the T-shaped intersection. And after this, there is only one stunt waiting to be done. It would be suicide, even for an all-powerful Hunter, to venture into an unknown, confined space full of mutants, but fortunately, they are able to overcome this problem as swell. And as MacTavish's soldiers place the last element of the trap right in the middle of the road, I pull the corners of my mouth in disgust, because the little structure has only pleased me with near-death experiences so far, although this doesn't take anything away from its usefulness. Because now it will lure the bastards out of their hiding places with the same efficiency as it directed the piggy to me in the forest.

"This is Hunter 1-15. Traps in place." I hear MacTavish's voice on the radio, and I follow with my binoculars as he and his assistants retreat in search of cover to move to a safer distance from the explosives left on the ground. They pull in behind the rusty frame of a car forgotten on the side of the road, and as they crouch down, they melt almost imperceptibly into the shadows and the emptiness dominated by the ruins.

"Be ready. We start after the signal." Riley gives his commands, and to this statement, my hand nervously moves towards the handrail in front of me to look for something to hold onto due to my increasing anxiety. Because all my nerves are straining, as I realize that the important part of the whole night will soon begin, and even though I feel that every little detail has been realized so far without disturbance, I still can't calm the tension that is growing wilder and wilder in my body. However, I don't have time to dwell on this anymore, because I hear the masked man's voice once again on the radio and he gives out the order that starts the real excitement of the mission. "Activate the sound alarms!"

And then, after that one announcement, that unpleasant, eardrum-splitting screeching sounds up again, which, despite the comfortable distance I'm at, reaches me and rips into my ears just like I previously experienced. But now I'm not concentrating on the noise, which cuts through the undisturbed calm of the night, but, frozen in nervous immobility, I fix my gaze through the lenses of the binoculars on the entrance to the nest. A few nerve-wracking minutes pass, and for a torturous moment, the unsettling immobility sways me into the belief that we may have received the wrong information and we came here completely unnecessarily. But all my doubts disappear when something stirs in the darkness of the underpass and moves up the stairs with slow, jerky steps. A lanky, human-like form emerges from the shadows, and as it fully leaves the nest, the pale light of the moon envelops it in a sickly light, which is only enhanced by my binoculars. And I furrow my brows in confusion, because it doesn't mean anything good at all, as the once human being steps out into the emptiness of the street, of whom now nothing but a distorted, grotesque creature is left. The I.H.L. doesn't stay alone for long, because a couple of its friends soon appear behind it, and they begin to drag themselves in the direction of the sound that lured them out, as if they were just going for a pleasant evening walk as an intimate friend group. And although not nearly enough time has passed since their appearance for us to know every little detail about the effect of the virus on humans, the way in which, belying their previously observed bloodthirsty behavior, they head towards the traps in sync is more than unusual. The normal thing would be if they galloped into the trap mindlessly. But these almost seem to behave in a premeditated and intentional manner.

"What the… what the hell is going on here?" I hear the bewildered voice of one of the soldiers, and his disbelief, suppressed into a low murmur filtering through the radio, faithfully reflects my shock. Because by now a whole herd of I.M.L.'s should have poured out of that fucking pit and casually jumped into the trap the Hunters had set for them. Still, the fact that mutated humans appeared in place of the beasts only confirms the rather ominous fact that I observed in the video. Which, in the best case scenario, means that the virus is going through a completely new kind of evolution, which not only happened faster than after its first appearance, but also promises additional risks for which we are not prepared at all. Because if they start getting just a little bit smarter, we're done for.

However, as slowly as they begin their path, they suddenly start running at such a speed, as if a switch had just flicked on in them, and the teams waiting for them don't have time to react to what is happening. The humanoid creatures rush towards the pre-prepared surprises with an almost crazy momentum, and although I could be happy about this development, the knowledge that they appeared too few and too organized for it to be so simple doesn't let me rest. And even when the I.H.L.s, in a frenzied rage, almost throw themselves into the line of the sensors, the bad feeling doesn't disappear from the skull. The bombs hidden on the ground are activated with a loud noise, and for a moment I see nothing but the blinding light that flashes after the detonation accompanied by a bang. Smoke and dust cover the street, and suddenly everything goes quiet, as the field becomes empty again after the neutralized threat. For a fleeting moment, I nervously look for MacTavish and his crouching comrades, and when I find them, I’m briefly reassured that they are still safe, albeit rather disturbed, waiting for the next step.

However, my joy doesn't last long, because an unmistakable roar cuts the silence left after the explosion in two. My hand clenches almost painfully around the rough metal of the handrail, but the ache caused by pieces of rust biting into my skin doesn't cut through my astonishment. My brain is much more occupied by the mass of mutants emerging from the nest with bloodthirsty anger, who pour out like an unstoppable herd from the mouth of the underpass, which until now was believed to be ominously bleak. And my mind suddenly cannot put together the chain of events, because what is happening now doesn't fit into any line-up observed over the years. And it seems that the reception committee is similarly surprised by the appearance of the originally expected guests.

"Fuck! Take cover and start shooting at the bastards!" I hear Riley's quick instruction, and an icy grip of doubt closes around my stomach as I hear the concern in his voice. Because the fact that, even through the radio, I can feel the shock and urgent restlessness of his words, plants the first seeds of fear in me. And I have every reason to be terrified, because as the monsters break through the slowly disappearing clouds of dust, chaos begins, and all of a sudden I lose all hope that I can survive this night.

[endlesstwanted]

A Devil You Forgot

My entry for the @flashfictionfridayofficial #202 prompt The Devil You Forgot and the @domaystic day 24 prompt Secret language!

Fandom: MCU

Rating: General Audiences

Characters: Blue (OC), Rick “Ricky” Jones, Riley (platonic relationship)

Tags: Domestic Fluff, Cuddling, Sharing a Bed / Room, Friendship, Teasing, The Snap (MCU), Open Ending

Summary: Riley, Blue and Rick are having a quiet afternoon when they hear the news. Somehow the Snap was reverted. Somehow, someone got everyone back; and for better or worse, that means everyone, both loved and hated ones.

Wordcount: 958

Author's note: Like last week’s FFF ficlet, this is set to be a part of one of my MCU-verses. This post also includes Hulk comics’ character Rick Jones, but with the version I created to add him to the MCU where he’s not shown. Also featuring Riley from Captain America movies, again, a version I created for this verse! This takes place in 2023 and is true to canon in that sense. Not beta read or edited. This piece won’t be posted on Ao3 either.

Thanks for reading, ficlet under the cut!

Rick curls closer to Blue, making a happy hum when they hug tightly in response.

It has been his idea to watch a film, and even if Blue knew he was going to fall asleep in the middle of it, they had to take advantage of the fact that they still get a signal down there.

When fingers bury in his dark black hair, Rick instinctively pulls closer and presses a kiss on Blue’s neck. They hug tightly, shifting to get their legs intertwined with his friend’s.

“So when’s the wedding?” Riley asks from the end of the bed, where he has made himself comfortable resting against the wall to watch the film with them, turning to them with a teasing eyebrow rose.

“Shut up, he’s resting,” Blue blurts out. Rick is not even half asleep, but he’s not going to make the effort to talk back either.

“You should get a room,” Riley pusses.

“We have one. I’m sorry to tell you we have to share,” he’s reminded, making him chuckle.

Riley’s expression changes, turning more serious but still with a soft smile. “You know I don’t mean it, right?”

“We know,” Blue returns the smile.

“You gotta make the most out of every second together. I know that, that’s what we had to do.”

Blue knows who Riley is talking about, so they don’t ask more and just nod. They have been through enough, the three of them, to be teasing each other without an apology afterwards to reassure each other that, at the end of the day, and no matter what they’ve been put through, their best friends still have their backs.

The cuddles and the caressing, along with spending lonely hours of a Sunday until they are required to show up for a meeting or mission, are the only love language they can share there, when it’s the three of them and no one else threatens to disturb their peace. Their home, which they’ve created over years of bonding over the bad stuff they’ve seen in the world, trying to find the bright side of it, and just getting together to fight against what was there to come.

Riley understands that and does his part too. He sneaks out of the security’s room during shifts to pay them a visit in the laboratory, and sometimes late at night in the room, when he's working double, as quiet as he can not to wake them up. They’re too comfortable there to let his teasing be a problem after all.

Rick waits until they are back to normal, with the chatter on TV as a soundtrack and a feeling that reminds them of happiness back in their hearts, to speak up. “If you’re jealous you can join us.”

Blue and Riley burst out in a laugh, because they know that’s not teasing. And they know that Ricky doesn’t care that three of them don’t fit in the bed, even if the little scar on his forehead should be a warning, and he will keep trying to get Riley in their bed until he gets him to kiss him. He can’t do much to hide it, and at this point he doesn’t want to.

What happens next takes them by surprise: the film stops playing as the breaking news flashing banners get over the screen. A spark of bittersweet memories flashes on Blue’s mind, recalling that the last time it happened was when the Snap occurred.

Snapped back up too, the three of them now sit on the bed with their eyes glued to the running headlines and the commotion on the street they are livestreaming from.

“Sources have been informing of people appearing out of nowhere around the town,” the reporter says, as the traffic is stopped behind them. “Most believe it’s a new alien invasion, but the first theories from our experts point towards the possibility of another natural disaster like the one suffered five years ago with the Snap.” They stop to catch their breath, move a bit with the camera following them, and show a smile to the watchers. “We’re yet to confirm if this is happening at some other places at the moment, but I’m hopeful to say that everyone, the people we lost after the Battle of Wakanda, they are coming back!!”

The transmission quickly changes to the news studio and somewhere else starts talking.

Blue, Rick and Riley exchange a look. If what the reporter believes is true, they know exactly what that means: their lives are going to turn upside down yet once again. And the hope they held, for the first disaster to be undone somehow, now have to face the fear they never let go off about how to deal with overpopulation then that they had got used to losing half of the world.

But Rick is thinking of his younger sister, picturing her like the last time he was home. He hadn’t seen in years before the Snap, but neither did he lose track of as she entered Midtown like he had done.

Riley is thinking of Sam, and that's an understatement. The timeless dream of seeing him once more, finally reuniting with him, finds a way to run through his mind again.

And then Blue is thinking, even though they really don't want to, about Ross. Their friends look at them with a hopeful smile, figuring out that they are thinking about Betty and Leonard, the parents they lost with everyone else. But no, they’re thinking of General Ross coming back to Earth, the man who had been in charge of their lives since they turned eighteen. The returning of the devil himself isn’t something they had thought of, and now it’s about to happen.

[runningfrom2am]

on the one screen in my town; one

summary:

mason’s life with drew was absolutely perfect, she was happier than ever; until everything came crashing down all at once.

tags/warnings:

drew starkey x fem!popstar!oc, drug and alcohol use, death, grief, these tags are not exhaustive, idk i'll add to this as it goes on.

wc: 2.3k

this is the first plot chapter from the same universe as my oneshot kinda famous! i did the poll ab whether or not i should continue it as an x reader or if you guys were cool with me using the oc it was originally written with and a large majority said it was fine so everyone meet mason! (and este slayyyy)

i hope you guys enjoy!

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"No, Mom, I'm just not sure about this one. I feel like it's just not me," Mason said, tugging at the top of the thirteenth white dress she had tried on that day.

"Honey, it's gorgeous, but this isn't about what I think anyways. Get whatever one calls your name," her mom, Catherine, replied from the couch behind her, catching her eye in the mirror.

"I'm so tired, let's call it a day and come back another time," Mason insisted, turning to face her mom and her best friend.

"Mase, this is the fourth designer we've met with. And every last dress you've tried on has been amazing," Este said. "Just don't forget, they can change anything you want."

Mason let out a sigh as she turned again to face the mirror. "Yes, dear, what don't you like about this one?" the designer asked, fiddling with the train.

"Well, nothing in particular. The neckline feels off... and the bodice, I don't like where it sits on the waist."

"Then that's a no. Just try one more, dear. Try this one!" Her mom grinned, putting her champagne glass on the table, grabbing the designer's 2024 portfolio, and pointing to the dress on the cover.

"Okay, yeah, let's try that one," Mason agreed, nodding, stepping off the pedestal, and lifting the mass amounts of the dress's fabric with the help of the designer's assistants.

With their help, she went back into the changing room, removed the billowing dress, and sat down with her phone as the assistant took the one-of-a-kind wedding dress away. Mason was met with no less than one hundred notifications on her phone, texts from friends and colleagues, and her agent had called no less than three times even though she was technically on vacation. The only thing she was interested in was calling Drew. She opened his contact and hit call, his name lighting up the screen as she put it on speaker, then opened Twitter while she waited for him to answer.

"Hey, my love, how's dress shopping?" Drew's voice echoed through the small speakers as Mason scrolled through endless photos of the crowd forming outside the studio she was currently in, and some pictures in the windows that they thought were fully closed were already making headlines.

"You know I can't tell you that," she laughed slightly, shaking her head.

"Sure you can, I just can't see it. Find the one?"

"Nope," she shook her head, despite him not being able to see her. "I'm trying on one more, then we're calling it a day."

Mason heard some shuffling and laughter in the background on his end as he spoke. "You're real picky about this one, huh? You were less particular at last year's Met."

"Is that Mason?" he was interrupted by a voice she instantly recognized as Madelyn. "Hi, Mason! We miss you!" she shouted into the phone, making her friend smile.

"Hi, Mads! Hey, can I fly out to see you guys in the morning?" Mason replied, chewing on her lip a little and standing as the curtain slid open and the assistant returned with the last dress.

"Yeah, of course. I'll call Amanda and get her to book your flights for you. Does Este want to come?"

"Duh," Mason giggled, putting down her phone and raising her arms so the young girl could slide the dress on. She couldn't help but notice her hands shaking, just slightly. "I've got to go, love, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow," Drew agreed. "Love you!" he said before he hung up the phone.

The dress was now settling over her shoulders as the nervous assistant clipped the back. "Are you alright?" Mason asked, turning her head slightly to try and get a glimpse at the girl.

"Yes, ma'am," she said softly, her voice slightly shaking.

"You don't have to call me that," Mason chuckled and shook her head, holding up her hair.

"I do, my boss insists on it with all her clients."

"What's your name?" Mason smiled as she asked, trying to get the girl to relax.

"It's Melissa. I don't want to be weird, but I'm a big fan of yours and I've always wanted to design something for you. I'm a student still, but your Met looks are always my favorite," she rambled on nervously.

Mason's smile grew at this. "Aw, thank you, Melissa. I'd be honored to wear your work someday."

Melissa blushed. "Thank you, that means a lot to me," she finished tying up the back and took a step back, picking up the train and fluffing it out. "While my boss isn't here, can I make a suggestion?"

"Of course," Mason replied. "You don't like this one?"

"No! No, I love it, it's stunning. I just think maybe it would suit your style more if we extended the train, then brought down the waistline just a little bit, and maybe did a bunch back here above the hips, then coated the whole thing in silver Swarovski diamonds. It will just scream Mason more, you know?" she said, trying to explain the vision as best she could as Mason nodded through the whole thing.

"You... are actually a genius," the star replied, nodding enthusiastically.

Melissa smiled wide, clapping her hands together and bouncing on her toes excitedly. "Yay! We can make that happen. One hundred percent."

"Let's go get my Mom's thoughts first," Mason joked, letting Melissa help her with the dress as they walked back out to the viewing room.

"Mason, that is stunning, honey. What do you think?" Catherine asked as Melissa adjusted the train so everyone could see the full vision.

"I really love it," her daughter agreed, looking at herself in the mirror, for the first time being able to see the whole thing. She smoothed out the front gently, turning a little bit and looking herself over. "Este? What do you think?"

Este nodded quickly, taking the final sip out of her champagne glass. "It's beautiful."

"Okay, yes, but I think I want to make some adjustments—could that be arranged?" Mason asked, looking briefly and smiling at the young girl now standing at the edge of the room.

"Yes, dear. Anything," the famous designer nodded, standing next to her in the mirror.

"I'm thinking we lower where the waistline lands, to like here, and then bunch it in the back right here, so it has more of that draping effect, and then extend the train and cover the whole thing in fine diamonds. So it looks like a silver fabric, almost..." Mason explained as the designer frantically took down notes and snapped at her assistant to grab the measuring tape.

"Yes! That will be perfect," the woman instantly agreed. "How long do you want the train? About four yards?"

"Maybe five..." Mason thought out loud, looking back to her mom and best friend for approval, and they both nodded in agreement. "And can we order a matching veil as well, please? I'd like our initials embroidered on it as well. Just above my left shoulder, I think."

"Consider it done, my dear," the designer nodded. "We'll send you some samples of material and fonts for that, and you can take your pick."

"Thank you," Mason smiled. "Oh, and can we please have them sent to my mother's address? I don't need Drew feeling nosy and opening my packages." She giggled, looking back at her mom and best friend, who had been awfully quiet.

"Oh, guys, c'mon. Don't do that," Mason chuckled, covering her face with her hands as she saw their eyes fill with tears.

"I'm sorry, honey, I just..." her mom sniffled, grabbing a tissue from the coffee table in front of them. "You look so beautiful, and it just makes me so happy to see how much you have grown in the last few years and how happy and successful you are. I am just so proud of you. That's all."

"Oh, mom, oh my god now I'm going to cry!" she laughed, already feeling tears welling up in her eyes as she tried to blink them away, fanning her face with her hands and tipping her head back.

"No, c'mon. You can cry, babe," her best friend laughed, already wiping her own tears. "Please actually do, it'll make us feel less weird about it."

She nodded, noticing Melissa standing next to her now with another tissue box and holding it up to her. She laughed a little as she took it, thanking her and dabbing it under her eyes. "You just did such a good job on my makeup this morning, I don't want to ruin it," she said to her friend, a smile still stuck on her cheeks.

"It's going to be beautiful. I just can't wait for the wedding," her mom smiled, taking a deep breath to try and level her head.

"Oh, god," she laughed. "It's just all going by so fast, you know?"

With only eight months left until the wedding, she had to make it her constant priority. She had hardly had a moment to think about anything else. Of course, it was so much fun and such an exciting time; but pretty much since the moment Drew proposed the media had labeled it 'the wedding of the decade', which had put so much pressure on both her and Drew.

"Yes, and you need to enjoy every second," her mom smiled.

"Oh! Speaking of, Este, we're flying out to Charleston in the morning. Drew's manager should be sending our tickets to you any minute." She tells her friend who nods, giving her a thumbs up with a crumpled-up tissue still in her hand, tears still fresh in her eyes.

"I'll be ready."

"Will you hold on to the fabric samples, Mom?" Mason asks her mom with a sniffle as Melissa helps her gather up the fabric of the dress to go get changed.

"Yes, of course, dear."

"Mom, wait- you should come with us!" Mason says, stopping in her tracks and turning again to face her mom, catching Melissa off guard as she struggles to make sure the dress doesn't tear. "I'll get Drew to get you a ticket as well, it can be a girl's trip." 

Her mom smiles back at her, shaking her head. "I appreciate the invitation honey, but you should go be with Drew. I've got brunch with Andrea tomorrow anyways, I hardly ever get the chance to meet up with her." Catherine insists.

"That reminds me, could you let her know that she and Taylor will be getting invitations to the bachelorette trip in the coming weeks? Este has already sent them out," Mason says continuing her way to the dressing room slowly and looking to her friend who nods in confirmation.  

She quickly gets changed back into her day clothes, passing on her card to the designer to take down the information and grabbing Melissa's social media for future reference before they make their break for the back door where their driver had been waiting. To no avail, however, considering at this point that the whole back alley was even swamped with fans and people holding cameras, immediately flashing at them as the door opens.

The environment goes from relaxed to chaotic in a second, and out of habit, Mason smiles wide as her mom and friend are quickly ushered by security into their waiting car. "We have a few minutes to chat with people, yeah?" She smiles at the guard who nods, taking place at her side as she walks up to the makeshift fence around the car.

Among screams of her name and cameras flashing in her face, she makes out a question from who she assumes is a journalist. "Mason! Did you find your dress? Can you show us?"

Mason turns her attention to them, handing back a phone to a fan who asked her to sign the case. "Uh, well, I can't share much right now, but I'm feeling good today!" She laughs, waving at a few fans and reaching over the barrier to give someone a hug.

"How's Drew doing? Is he still in Charleston?" The fan asks as she pulls away, and Mason decides to focus her energy on the fans from here on. 

"He's great! Yeah, they're still filming in Charleston. It's the final season! I'm so excited about it." She grins, nodding and giving a quick wave over her head.

"Are you going to have another song in this season?" The fan asks.

"I can't share that, unfortunately," Mason says, tapping the young girl's arm to draw her attention down and giving her a quick and subtle thumbs up, making both of them smile.

Mason moves down the line, giving people hugs and signing things, almost in tears by the time she steps back to the car with an arm full of letters and bracelets and little handmade gifts. "Thank you! Thank you guys- it was so nice to meet everyone!" She calls out, waving an awkward goodbye before climbing in the back seat.

She sighs with a smile as the security pushes everyone back so they can drive away, placing everything on the empty seat next to her and Este starts to shift through everything.

"They're so sweet, hey?" Mason sighs happily, giving another quick wave out the window.

"They're lovely." Catherine agrees, looking back from the passenger seat of the car. 

"Did anyone ask you about Drew?" Este asks curiously, holding up a letter to the light so she can read the envelope.

"Of course." Mason giggles as they pull out into the street. "Doesn't bother me, though."

"No, of course not." Este agrees. "I just wish they could focus more on you and your music, you put so much work into all your projects I just think that should be the focus when they meet you."

"Right now everything is about me and Drew. After the wedding I'm sure it will shift back to normal, you know?" Mason insists, opening a different envelope to read it.

"I hope so." Her friend sighs. "You did this yourself, it's important to me that you remember that. That's all."

Mason looks over at her friend, tilting her head at her. "Let's be honest, babe, I wouldn't be where I am without him. I don't mind giving him the credit he deserves at least for widening my audience."

Este nods and smiles at her friend, already worried that she's losing her to his shadow.

taglist: @veescorneroftheworld, @totalswag, @madelynie, @cecesrings, @slut4drudy, @mutual-mendes, @winterrrnight, @sadfury, (lmk if you want to be added!!)

also let me know what you guys want me to post from this next! more plot? maybe a oneshot like their first date or the proposal? give me absolutely all your thoughts :) and send me an ask with any ideas for this!