#It's all academic darlin'
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It's all academic darlin' PART 1/10
12k+ Hangster AU. Updating 2-3 parts per week and will be finished by 31st January 2024. (Each part is ~1500 words).
Bradley is a professor but living his best life with IceMav parents. Jake is a pilot. Maverick sort-of tries (and fails) to play matchmaker, so he tries again. Touch of epistolary and sprinkling of one-sided unknown/mistaken-identity.
(Note for later parts/chapters - Ice uses sign to communicate at home, I’m typing it like sign is English despite the fact that I know it isn’t (while NZSL is my third language, I have no working knowledge on the grammar useage in ASL).)
PART ONE
The 12 hour trip has given him plenty of time to think. He doesn’t know what possessed him to accept Mav’s offer; quiet place you can just get away from everything. When faced with the idea of going home and seeing his family, not being able to answer questions versus being offered a solitary retreat into the woods for a week or two or however long he could stand his own company… Well, he’s never spent very much time alone before and he guesses the novelty had held a certain appeal. He knows he might not actually be alone when he gets there. Mav had mentioned that his son might still be there, but that he’d be leaving to get back to school. It had made him sound young. But Jake’s seen photos, knows that Bradley has at least graduated from some form of college judging from the photos in Mav’s office and hangar, proud moments documented with pictures.
Sure enough when he pulls in front of the cabin there’s another truck out front, music blaring from somewhere. He steps out of his own truck and can now hear someone loudly singing along. He follows the sound around the house and yep, definitely the same guy from the photos (the flash of moustache is the clincher). He’s cutting wood, axe swinging easily in time with the music and Jake takes his time to just watch. He’s tall, maybe a bit taller than Jake and he hadn’t been expecting that with how tall Maverick was not. Shirtless, skin tanned and gleaming with sweat from the combination of summer heat and exertion of cutting wood. Jake swallows, letting his eyes run over the scene appreciatively because it’s been a little while and this right here is… nice.
“Baby can I hold you tonight?” Thunk. “Baby if I told you the right words.” Thunk. “Ooo, at the right time.” Thunk. “Would you be mine?” Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. “Baby can I hold you tonight?” Thunk.
As he watches, he assesses; Bradley looks around the same age as Jake and the other Dagger squadron members. Not young at all then. No wonder Mav had been so insistent about getting them all home, dad-vibe just morphing to encompass them all. He’d never had imagined a man with Maverick’s history to be a family man. That somehow, somewhere along the line, Maverick managed to raise a small human into the tall drink of water in front of him. Jake doesn’t know why he feels surprised, Mav is a good-looking man despite his age but he still doesn’t see much of a resemblance between him and Bradley. He shifts on his feet, not wanting to interrupt a man holding an axe, especially one as attractive while doing so… he licks his lips, wishing for a toothpick or some gum just to have something to do with his mouth and his lips twitch as he thinks about other ways he could occupy his mouth with the man in front of him. He startles, realization hitting him hard and fast. This is Mav’s son.
Fuck.
He cannot, under any circumstances, fuck with this man. Literally or figuratively. Maverick would kill him. He’d find some way to make it look like an accident, or just commit outright murder and then hide the body. And there would be no shortage of volunteers to help him do it. It’s only for a couple of days before Bradley apparently has to leave, Jake can be on his utmost best behavior. And it’s not like he’s in any fit state anyway. It’ll be fine.
“Fucking shit!”
Jake jumps at the yell, staring into the wide eyes of Bradley Mitchell, because there cannot be that many people with that moustache in the world. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, knows he’s going to have to refrain from so many comments about that distracting caterpillar of facial hair.
“Sorry!”
“Jesus man, you scared the fuck out of me…”
The urge to bite back and tell him he shouldn’t be cutting wood by himself, or have music playing so loudly he can’t hear vehicles come up the road are on the tip of his tongue but he bites them back. Best behavior he reminds himself. And when did he become such an old man? Ugh.
“Sorry,” he starts again. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I’m Jake. Lieutenant Jake Serensin.”
The other man’s face goes pale under his tan, eyes going wide.
“Fuck. Is Mav okay?”
Shit.
“He’s fine! Totally fine. Sorry. Again. I didn’t mean to worry you. You’re Bradley though right? Mav’s son? He said you’d be here, told me he’d let you know to expect me.”
A look of relief is quickly replaced by chagrin and Jake bites his lip, because he’s definitely not expected.
“Shit, I dropped my phone in the lake yesterday. Haven’t checked in with anyone. Obviously you’re welcome though, any friend of Mav’s is a friend of mine,” Bradley says. He’s smiling, reaching his hand out to shake and Jake gives himself a mental slap. He’s not sure if he should correct him on the whole friends with Mav front, because he’s pretty sure the older man merely tolerates him. And this is the son of a superior officer and he’s a guest and he will remember his manners if he doesn’t want to deal with the certain Southern guilt that will settle on him later. Best behavior. Which is also why he won’t go asking questions about why Bradley calls his dad by his fucking callsign.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. Sorry I wasn’t expecting you. You obviously know Mav, and who I am. I figure you’re not a serial killer. Let me just, uh, grab my shirt and then I can help you with your bags.”
He wants to tell him not to bother, that he’s enjoying the view plenty, but even something as benign as ‘don’t put a shirt on on my account’ would come out heavy with the (intended) innuendo so he keeps his mouth shut and nods before realizing he doesn’t need any help with his bags and says as much, biting back another comment about the floral Hawaiian shirt that the other man is shoving his arms through but still leaving completely unbuttoned and okay, he’s thankful for small mercies. He’s going to look, he’s not a fucking saint.
“It’s fine man, come on. Let me show you the guest room. Did you bring groceries? I hope Mav warned you to bring food, because unless you like hunting and fishing you’re shit out of luck.”
Fortunately Mav had warned him and Jake had organized groceries. He carries everything inside with Bradley’s help; front door opening into a large living space with a kitchen and dining area to one side, a large wall-mounted TV on one wall and then a fireplace taking up the central inner wall, clearly used for heating in the cooler months. Down a short hallway Bradley points out Mav’s bedroom, his own and then the guest room where Jake drops his duffle.
Heading back to the kitchen he takes in the few photos, not many personalized ones, but plenty of ones of different types of aircraft and something in him feels a little more settled just looking at the pictures of the planes in the air. The piano and guitar make him pause and he wonders if either belong to Mav or Bradley. Obviously one or both of them play, although he can’t imagine Mav playing either. Then there are the books. So many books, some look like heavy texts and Jake wonders who the hell comes away on vacation to read textbooks that are thick enough to be classified as weapons. He can imagine Mav reading them over playing the musical instruments though. Bradley is putting the chilled items away in the fridge, offering him a beer and Jake takes it gratefully. One won’t hurt.
“So how was the drive?”
“Long.” Too long considering he’s meant to be taking it easy but he’s done worse.
“Where did you drive from?”
“North Island.”
“Shit. I thought you’d just come from Fallon.”
“Huh. No. That would have been much closer, but I needed to get away.”
He almost expects Bradley to ask, but he guesses growing up with Mav he knows some questions won’t get answers so lets it slide and Jake’s grateful.
“So you saw Mav yesterday?”
“Yep, sure did. He made the offer a few days ago and just reminded me of it yesterday and I thought… sure. Why not.”
“Did he give you a list of jobs?”
“No. Should he have?”
“He must like you,” Bradley laughs and Jake’s eyes catch the column of his throat as he tips his bottle to take a drink and he swallows roughly. Okay. He looks away and hums, shrugs. Doesn’t want to mention the concussion and bruises he’s still recovering from. He’s meant to be taking it easy and Mav knows it.
“So, what do you do? Or is being a lumberjack a fulltime gig?”
“Ha. No. I’m a… teacher.”
Jake quirks an eyebrow because that answer had waivered as an almost question. But it tracks with the summer break and the whole getting back to school thing Mav has mentioned. And it’s a good a conversation as any, although it is quickly turned on him, with Bradley asking him about his flying experiences, looking a little wistful when Jake mentions going through Top Gun and he wonders if it would be impolite to ask why Bradley didn’t join the Navy like Mav. Definitely. Obviously his face still asks the question, because Bradley is offering up information freely.
“My mom asked me to not join the Navy. Not quite her dying wish, but pretty damn close…”
Well shit. He winces.
“I’m sorry –” Jake starts and Bradley is already waving his hand.
“It was over twenty years ago, you’re good. I’m good. She just wanted me safe. Of course, telling a teenager he can’t do something isn’t usually the best approach. And keeping Mav from teaching me to fly was never going to happen. I got my solo license when I was sixteen and haven’t looked back. I love flying.”
“That is something I can agree with,” Jake says, tipping his beer bottle toward Bradley.
“To flying.”
“To flying,” Bradley repeats, his smile wide and friendly.
PART TWO
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Rest // Jasper W. Hale.
Jasper Whitlock-Hale x gn!reader.
Summary: You tell Jasper about your academic performance's downhill.
Fluff/angst. Burnout.
You sigh.
Your body falls down into Jasper's newly acquired bed, feeling your body slowly giving up after a very long day.
The vampire tilts his head as he gets a peek of your emotions, he lies down next to you, your head it's buried deep into one of the pillows.
He smirks and runs his cold fingers through your head. It's so pleasant, you feel the upcoming headache calm down.
"I missed you, sugar." Jasper whispers, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer. You look at him, meeting his golden eyes.
"I'm sorry, cowboy. School has been... killing me. I missed you too." You mumble back with another deep sigh, the vampire nods in understatement and kisses your forehead.
Truth is you haven't really thought about Jasper. Not because you don't love him anymore but because you just haven't thought about anything. Not school. Not about eating and waking early. Not about talking with him all day through the phone. Nothing at all. You feel empty.
"I know, darlin'. I know. Just let me take care of you today, you deserve a rest." Jasper speaks softly as his fingers rubbed small circles on your back. You felt yourself getting a little teary, being spoiled for a day sounds so nice and the little circles he rubs on are so relaxing. Now you feel so guilty for just being absent this couple of days.
"You've been working so hard." He whispers, and that makes the tears to fall down, and you can't lie. You shake your head no.
"No...No I haven't." You whisper as your voice cracks. Jasper looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"What do you mean, sugar? It's everything alright?" He asks with so much care and worry as his fingers caress your teary face.
"I- I- just...I just... I've been skipping lots of classes...entire days." You speak between small sobs. Jasper nods slowly as he listens.
"I- I- I- I can't- I can't get up in the morning some days. I just can't." You whisper, the vampire wipes your tears with his thumb.
"I just sleep so little and do so much everyday. It's not a bad thing I want to sleep a little more, r-right?" You asked.
"No, it's not, sugar. There's nothing wrong with just wanting to stay in bed and do nothing." He speaks back with a soft tone as he brings you closer. You bury your head on his chest and start to sob again. The vampire feels his heart break as he witnesses your smaller frame shake with every sob and choke on every word.
"I'm alone all day on school. I don't have friends. I don't know how to talk to anyone. I don't have a reason to get up in the morning, to get ready and shower..." You sobbed against his chest as he stroked your hair.
"Oh, my darlin'. Why haven't you told me anything? You know I'll always help you out when it's getting tough." The blonde whispers oh so gently, he means it. He'll be there.
"It's not as bad as other times. I thought it wasn't worth it to bother you, you have your life besides me." You whisper, Jasper sighs. The vampire can feel it with his gift and what he calls the boyfriend sixth sense. It is that bad.
"Nonsense, sweetheart. Bother me always. In the middle of the night, on the weekends, when I'm at school or out hunting. Bother me. Bother me and talk to me." The blonde whispers with a little more roughness, to get the message clear but still very gentle and soft. You just felt the tears falling down and the knot on your throat tighten.
He looks at you, you nod to tell him you understood.
"Can I stay here the rest of the week? I p-promise I'll go to school on monday." You whisper with a broken voice, you feel like a little kid asking their parents for permission to skip a day.
"I just want to rest. I'm so tired." You barely can choke the words out as the tears fall down uncontrollably. He cups your face as you tremble and sob.
"I know, my darlin'. It's alright. I'll take care of everything. Just breathe." He whispers softly as he guides you through a more calm couple of breaths.
"You're so nice to me I do-" Before you can finish your self-loading filled sentence Jasper's lips are on yours, a gentle kiss leaving you speechless.
"Shhh...hush now, sugar. Just calm down and rest. You deserve it. Even if you feel you don't. Even if you think you've done nothing. You're allowed to feel tired. You're allowed to rest." Jasper whispers, his eyes looking into yours, you nod slowly again as his words make you feel validated and understood for the first time in a long time.
"Good. Now, my darlin'. Close your eyes and rest for as long as you need. I'll be here, as always." The blonde smiles and kisses your forehead before you nuzzle against his shoulder.
You melt slowly into his arms, the tiredness and exhaustion finally taking massive tool on your body.
"Your bed it's so soft...." You mumble before your eyes close. The vampire chuckles as he wraps his arms tighter around you.
"Glad you like it, sugar. I got it just for you."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Hello, here is a very self indulgent fic. I'm a little stressed out in school so I wrote this before going to bed. Hope ya like it.
#jasper whitlock hale#jasper whitlock#jasper cullen#jasper hale#jasper hale x reader#twilight x reader#twilight x y/n#jasper hale x y/n#jasper hale x you#effervescent
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Good Girl | Joel Miller
Pairing: Dbf! Joel x academic weapon f!reader
Summary: You got your results back from your finals and depending on how well you did, Joel shows you how proud he is of you.
This was purely inspired by @lovers-liability , Lu ily and I hope this was everything you wanted! 🖤
CW: SMUT 18+ only, MINORS DNI. Choking, daddy kink if you close one eye, spitting, unprotected p in v (wrap it you nasties) oral (f receiving) pet names (good girl, angel, sweet girl, smart girl, etc) let me know if I missed any!
All of my dbf! Joel is pre-outbreak, but he’s not a father (I’m sorry!)
ꨄ Let me know what you think, feedback and comments are always welcomed ꨄ
School finals approached rather quickly and before you knew it you were in your bed almost every night with tons and tons of notes spread around you while Joel was on the other end of the phone snoring away. He tried staying up to help you study, but that didn’t happen most times. Still, you appreciated his efforts and left him sleeping soundly while you shoveled more information into your worn out brain. When it came time to take your finals, Joel dropped you off and left the biggest kiss on your forehead, wishing you good luck. “You got this sweetheart, you’re my smart girl and I know you’ll do great. Just lemme know when you’re done and I’ll come get ya, okay?” his index finger brushed the underside of your chin as he used it to tilt your head up to look him in the eye.
Fast forward a week later to now as you pull up to Joel's house with your grades in the passenger seat, your stomach full of butterflies. You didn’t even look to see what you got, you wanted to wait and find out with Joel. It was the least you could do with how much he pushed you to study and cram as much as you could. Everytime you wanted to see him, he asked if you studied and when you thought about lying, he caught on right away. It was hard to lie to Joel, he just knew by the tone of your voice. “Don’t lie to me sweetheart, you know what happens if you lie.” That week leading up to finals he hardly came around to see you. It was super important to him that he didn’t distract you and fill your brain with anything but school notes.
As you walk up to knock on his door, he meets you halfway on the sidewalk, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you tightly. “Mornin’ gorgeous, how are ya?” he asks and kisses your lips, his arms still around you. You pull away and wave the envelope in his face slowly, your smile growing. “I’m terrified to see how I did. I wanted to do it with you since you were on my fucking ass about it.” Joel just chuckles and drops his arm, taking your hand in his and walking you to the house. “Well come on in, I’ve got the pancakes done I just need to make some bacon.” He held the front door open for you and gave you a small smack on your ass, jokingly whistling at you. “Do you wanna open it or you want me to?” you ask and lean over the kitchen island while he starts making a pot of coffee. “Nope, it’s all you darlin’. Just rip it open and start readin’ it.” You hesitate for a second as the thought of you failing your classes seeps back into your head.
“Open it, open it, open it” Joel chants and claps his hands, trying to hype you up. Taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you rip open the envelope, your eyes land on your grades printed on the paper you unfolded. Your laugh filled the quiet room, giving Joel some type of idea of what the paper said. “Well, you aren’t cryin so that tells me you didn’t fail.” he sighs in relief, meeting you over at the counter. Joel puts his hand on the small of your back and rubs gently as he reads closer to see how well you did. “I’ll be damned sweet girl, what’d I tell ya? I told you that beautiful magnificent mind of yours would pass!” He picks you up and sets you on the counter, his hands on your thighs as he kisses you excitedly. You smile against his soft lips, the nervousness leaving your stomach and filled with excitement from Joel being so handsy with you.
“Oh god, who are you? Are you Joel Miller? Where’ve you been? Been a while since you’ve been around, yeah?” you joke and kiss him deeply, pulling him close and pressing your chest against his. “I made you wait so you didn’t get distracted, lil lady but now that we know you passed, like I knew you would, do you wanna celebrate?” His eyes never left yours as his hands moved up your thighs, his thumb practically brushing against your aching cunt. “Mmm what would that consist of?” your nails scratch his back softly while he kisses your neck and moves a hand up to your breast, massaging it through your shirt. “Don’t ask questions, just let me show you how proud I am of ya, baby doll.” he mutters against your skin, nipping between kisses. “Lift up for me sweetheart, I wanna take this off ya” he tugs at your shorts and unzips them, tugging them off you and tosses them to the floor. Joel puts his hands on your knees as he takes all of you in, his dark brown eyes going over every inch of your body. He shakes his head in awe and cups your cunt as he leans his forehead on yours. “Do you know how much you make my head spin baby girl? The way you remember shit I'd forget in a heartbeat, the way you’re so determined to do good at important stuff. You’re such a smart lil thing, so fuckin’ sexy.”
He took your tank top off and laid you back on the counter and pulled you towards the end. His mouth kissed a trail down the valley of your breasts to your stomach, and down to the waistband of your panties. He took them between his teeth and tugged playfully before pulling them down your legs. “Such a good girl for me, you’re so good” he cooed as he leaned down and flattened his tongue on your clit that was soaked in your arousal. A whimper escaped your lips and you kneaded at your breasts as he flicked his tongue on your sensitive bud. “Jesus fuck, Joel I’ve missed you so bad. You were all I could think about when I was studying. I needed you so badly, you have no idea. All I could think about was riding you while I study and you’d stop moving if I stop reading aloud. Made me so horny thinking about you bending me over my desk and ruining my notes.” You could barely get your words out between moans and he smirked, licking faster and harder. “Such a naughty little girl aren’t you? Thinkin’ about getting fucked silly while you were supposed to be studying” he tutted and stood up, crashing his lips on yours. You stole your juices off his tongue and palmed him through his jeans, letting him drink in your whimpers for more.
“Bend over the counter for me angel, spread your legs for me” he says as he pulls away and undoes his belt slowly, teasing you as he can feel your eyes on him. The pile of clothes gets bigger on the floor as you both are naked now and you eagerly wait for him with your legs spread as you’re bent over for him. He kneels down and licks from your clit all the way to your entrance, groaning lowly. It vibrates you to your core and your knees go weak a tad as he laps at your pussy like a fiend. “So fuckin’ sweet, darlin’, I can’t get enough of ya.” Joel admires your soaking cunt and spits on it before he stands up and positions himself at your entrance. He goes in slowly and you gasp as it’s been a while since he was inside you. “Jesus christ I forgot how tight this little pussy is, goddamn.”
He grabs your hips roughly and pulls you against him, watching his hard cock slide in and out of you. “Oh my god, yes Joel, harder. Show me how proud you are of me” you tease and he grunts through gritted teeth before chuckling, and he squeezes your hips harder as he starts pounding you against him. His balls slap against your pussy and he wraps around to grab your throat, pulling you up towards him. Your back arches and your whimpers get louder as he sloppily kisses your face and lips. “Look at daddy’s smart girl getting absolutely slutted out for passing her finals. My good baby, fuckk” he moans as he slams into you harder, tightening his grip on your neck. Your brows furrow in pleasure as your knees start shaking, your orgasm coming to you quickly. “Joel I’m gonna cum, don’t stop daddy please, keep going, fuck me just like that.” you clench your jaw as your brain goes foggy and your body shakes as you cum on his cock. Your moans are muffled by his hand and his thrusts get sloppy as he works himself closer to cumming. “Yeah, sweetheart? That makes you feel better cummin’ on me like that and makin’ a mess all over my cock, huh?” Joel groaned loudly as he filled you up with his cum, his body collapsing on yours. You stood there and let him fill you to the brim, thrusting into you until he slowed to a stop. As Joel started to go soft inside you, he kissed your back gingerly. “That’s my good girl, I’m so proud of you.”
#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#dbf!joel miller#joel miller#dbf!joel#pedro pascal#joel miller x you#joel tlou#the last of us#academic weapon#dbf joel miller x f reader#dbf! joel smut
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I really like the idea of Darlin being a dancer.
I wouldn’t be surprised if they did it in college either or at least something creative. They’re quite smart academically but in maths their is only right and wrong, there was no leeway, no exploring. Dancing is something they’d done for as long as they remembered. A way to be expressive with movement.
Their parents said it was a way to learn control at first, to dampen down their impulses and put their energy into something positive. Despite that, they enjoy it. Convincing themselves it makes them feel free but going through the rules and steps over and over to make it perfect. They learn to work through pain, to ignore their aching muscles and cut up feet. They don’t do anything half-assed.
It starts controlling them.
They eventually stop as their life changes but Darlin carries dance with them every where they go. Keeping themselves small to never take up too much room, letting themself be contorted into whatever shape, pose or person necessary to fit the performance and to fit into life. Using their body to communicate, to tell a story.
All of the cuts and welts, all that practise and patience only useful when it comes to agility in fights now. It was a stupid dream, bruises and anger in a leotard? Even stage makeup can’t cover their scars. What an idiot they’d been.
But then Sam comes into Darlin’s life and he makes them home cooked meals and they bulk up. He see’s them for who they are, not who he wants them to be. And he fumbles around in the moonlight with them, trying his best as they spin each other.
They feel free and Darlin doesn’t have to perform anymore but they do get to dance again.
#I don’t know if this I niche or not but it’s what I’ve always imagined them doing I dunno#there are so many comparisons in their habits#also tried very hard to find an article of clothing that both males and females wear in dance#who knew the attire was so different#anyway#redacted darlin#redacted sam#redacted audio#redacted asmr#redactedverse#arrowsqueue
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Howdy knight in shimmering armor!! :DDD it is moi~ & I come humbly presenting my req ✨🥹
So. 👏🏼 We've heard of motherly!reader, right? And we got motherly!reader. We've heard of sister!reader, and we got sister!reader.
Now get ready forrrrr *🥁🥁🥁* daughter!reader! 🩷💫
can I get some hcs for our Sodapop with a daughter/daughter!reader? I feel like he'd be such a sweet and loving parent aaaa 😭😭 whether biological or adopted it's entirely up to you, darlin'! I just live for the sweet fluff; my brain is stuck on Darry and Pony and the rest of the Greasers as uncles akshdj it's driving me up a walllllll.
uncle/godfather (!!! 😱😭🩷) Steve—maybe her taking an interest in cars or working at the DX when she gets older?? or not and somethin' else has her best interests at heart!! but everybody loves and dotes on her endlessly still bc she's their princess UGH the potential is insanity.
Work your magic, firefly!! If it's what'chur into, I'd love to see whatcha got for me! 😚 If not, then don't worry a thing at all, m'kay? <33 Entirely up to you!
↳tell the angels no!₊˚✧
➬ sodapop curtis x daughter!reader
a/n; THERES MY FAVOURITE PERSON EVERRR!!! HIIIIII!!!! ALSO I MADE READER LIKE IN THE RANGE OF A PRETEEN..BUT I MADE IT PRETTY VAGUE ON THE AGE..SAUR.
you’re sodapop’s biological child, and he couldn’t be happier omfg.
he’s such a good dad :(.
he legit can’t say no to you so you can get away with literally anything.
you punch a kid because they were annoying you?
“aw, it’s okay. i bet she didn’t mean it.”
“your daughter punched the child 3 times in a row.”
“just like i taught her!”
you get caught stealing?
“just ask for money! or take some from uncle steve.”
if you ever tell him you have a crush on a kid, he’s telling everyone. shouting it in the streets fr.
“who is he? is he cute? is he nice? rich?”
“papa!!”
and if the gang finds out?? good luck.
“what? you’re way too young to even to be thinking about boys!”
“yeah, what uncle two-bit said!”
“guys she’s a child. let her explore.”
“shut up ponyboy, this is y/n we’re talking about.”
do NOT ask sodapop for help with any of your work.
as soon as your done with adding, it’s ponyboys problem.
each person in the gang probably has their own job or role in your life.
johnny is the uncle you go to for peace and quiet.
“johnny-uhh…let’s go to the lot!! i’m tired of this house.”
“alright, kiddo. go tell your dad where you’re going.”
johnny’s jealous that you have a better childhood than he ever had, but he’s happy that it’s you getting the best childhood you can possibly get.
ponyboy’s the one you go to for academic help, or just..help in general.
“uncle pony, what’s 12 x 2?”
“what’s 12 + 12?”
“24?”
“there’s your answer.”
two-bits the uncle you go to when you’ve had a bad day. he does ANYTHING to make you laugh.
he’ll tell you any story about anyone to make you smile with tears still in your eyes.
“w-well what about dad?”
“OH! your dad used to work at this gas station, the DX, right? and one day a guy came in to rob the place, grabbed the drinks, chocolate bars, everything and just RAN! so your father ran after him but he tripped and took the guy down with him! i swear he was the same shade as a tomato when the story came out!”
“really?”
you asked, in between laughs.
steves the uncle you go to for…literally everything.
you’re probably his favourite person so…he’s ‘round you a lot.
“uncle steve, i’m trying to go to school!”
“schools for losers.”
“uncle?!”
“but don’t drop out. drop out and i kill ya.”
darry is the one you go to for actual advice and a shoulder to lean on.
you probably call him grandpa for the laughs.
“an-and i just don’t know what to do, pa! it’s so..UGH!”
“just breath, y/n. you’re a strong young girl. you can make it, like you always do.”
dallas is the uncle you go to for actual fun.
he let’s you get away with anything and everything.
he might even be worse than your dad.
“can i have a cigarette?”
“just don’t tell anyone, kay? i ain’t tryna get the tar beatin’ outta me.”
i like to think that steve’s car work was acknowledged and he moved into a better paying job.
so if you show the slightest bit of interest into cars, he’s bringing you into work on the weekends.
“pop the hood, y/n.”
“sir yes sir!”
they’d be so loving but so annoying with you omfg.
they will barge into your room without asking.
“HEY Y/N!”
“TWO-BIT, WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”
“that’s no way to talk to your uncle.”
“so?? get out! i’m trying to play something.”
they all come into your room and drag you out to the dingo.
OMFG IMAGINE THEM PICKING YOU UP FOR SCHOOL IT’D BE SO EMBARRASSING.
sodapops driving, it’s his car, two-bit and steve are fighting across the seats, johnny and ponyboy and talking over the shouting, dallas is blasting music while darry tells everyone to behave.
all that while you stand infront of school, infront of everyone, as they shout your name out loud.
“Y/N!”
“Y/N GET IN!”
“HURRY UP PLEASE”
“i don’t know who these guys are…must be another y/n.”
“Y/N CURTIS. GET IN HERE NOW!”
“ah, shit.”
“WHAT WAS THAT, YOUNG LADY?”
“nothinguhh!!”
10/10 experience overall, would sell my first born to experience this.
may 27th, 2023. 4:41PM.
#2knightt#the outsiders#the outsiders x reader#what do i tag for platonic fics omfg#platonic the outsiders#sodapop curtis#sodapop x reader#johnny cade x reader#dallas winston x reader#ponyboy curtis x reader#steve randle x reader#darry curtis x reader#HELP??
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pairing: billy the kid x veterinary student!reader
warnings: none? mild anxiety?
a/n: yes i did write this to deal with my own academic issues. i am however a politics and theology major so idk what vet school is like at all it just fit the vibe for the story
Veterinary school was, quite frankly, beating your ass. It was a seemingly never-ending stream of deadlines and test dates, and you stumbled home to your dorm each night (or early morning) with barely enough energy to brush your teeth before falling into bed for a couple hours of sleep.
Fridays were a reprieve from this monotony. On Fridays, you made the hour-and-a-half drive out of the city to your boyfriend Billy’s farm, where you'd spend the weekend resting and helping him tend to the animals. You had called him on Wednesday and told him you couldn't come this week because you had too much work, and because you were in a miserable mood that you didn't want to bring into his house, but he'd insisted that you come out. He said that, one, he wanted you in his house no matter what mood you were in – he had, in fact, called it “our” house, which sent your heart soaring every time you thought about it. He also promised that he would make a space where you could work without being disturbed, and he had sounded so earnest that you simply couldn't turn him down.
Thus, on Friday, directly after your last class of the week, you threw your weekend bag into your car and drove down to the farm. Your Fridays ended blissfully early, so it was just before noon when you arrived.
Taking advantage of the unseasonably warm day, Billy was taking care of a rusty gate hinge in just a button-down, forgoing his usual canvas jacket. You strode up to him, checking that he wasn't handling anything particularly delicate before you spoke.
“Finally worth it to fix those hinges?”
He'd been bemoaning the state of his gates all winter, but there had never been a point to fixing them – the past months had been so wet and cold that even if one issue did stay fixed, it was almost certain that another would crop up.
A half smile curved across his face at your teasing as he stood.
“Well hello to you too,” he said. There was a laugh playing at the edges of his words.
“Hi, baby,” you acquiesced, standing on your tiptoes to peck him on the lips. “How was your week?”
“Better now that you're here.”
You rolled your eyes and nudged him with your shoulder as the two of you meandered up to the house.
“Seriously, Billy.”
“I'm bein’ serious! It was a fine week. Not much happened besides the sun finally showin’ her face, so there ain't much to report out on.”
“Okay, okay,” you laughed. “How's Britta doing? Is her hoof looking any better?”
Britta was a cow who'd had an infected hoof the last time you were there. You had taken care of it, welcoming the opportunity to practice what you were learning in school, but had been wracked with anxiety all week that you had done something horribly wrong.
“She's back to her old self, just clopping around and terrorizin’ the bull,” Billy said. “You did a wonderful job, darlin’, I really can't thank you enough.”
“You thanked me plenty last weekend, I promise.”
Once inside, you hung your sweater up and turned to your boyfriend.
“I really hate to do this, but I have to get some work done. Am I gonna be in your way if I sit in the living room?”
“You wouldn't be in my way if you sat smack in the middle of this hall, Y/N,” Billy said. “I'll move ‘round you. Don't worry about it.”
You settled on the couch with your laptop and got to work, focusing on the flashcards you had made for your exam the next week. True to his word, Billy left you undisturbed, mostly finishing work outside to give you some quiet space. You didn't even notice how much time had passed until Billy was handing you a plate with a sandwich and chips and settling next to you with his own. The light in the room had changed from the brilliance of midday to the dusty gold of mid-afternoon. You rubbed your eyes, dry and tight from looking at your screen.
You shut your laptop and set it aside. “What time is it?”
“Just past three,” replied Billy. “I figure it's a little late for lunch, but we can just eat a later dinner to make up for it. Plus, I'd wager you haven't eaten anything since before dawn.”
He was right, of course, and you sunk your teeth gratefully into your sandwich. Billy leaned back next to you, one leg tucked up so he could balance his plate on his knee. You eat in silence; Billy turns to you when you've both finished.
“So,” he said, “I've yet to see that foul mood you mentioned on the phone.”
You cringed, having hoped he wouldn't bring that up. “You don't need to worry about it-”
“Careful, darlin’, or I'll start thinkin’ you're trying to avoid me.”
He was teasing, but your head still whipped up to look at him in alarm.
“No, it's not that, I promise. This week has just been so crazy and I didn't want to bring that to you, and-” You nearly overturned your plate in your rush, and just barely caught it before it shattered on the floor.
Billy set his plate on the coffee table, and you followed suit. He took your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs slowly over the thin skin of your wrists.
“Slow down, Y/N, ain't no one on your tail. You wanna talk about what's goin’ on?”
His tone was so gentle and his eyes so concerned that it made you want to cry, though you weren't sure why. Maybe for worrying him, maybe from exhaustion, but whatever it was, it was constricting your windpipe and threatening to spill out into the world.
Billy noticed even though no tears had fallen yet, and he sighed.
“C’mere, honey, I'm sorry for asking,” he said, tucking you into his side and pressing a kiss to your hair. “How badly do you actually need to work?”
Once you trusted your voice to be steady enough to speak, you said, “I have an exam on Monday that I need to study for, and a project I want to get a head start on. Plus my readings for next week.”
“‘kay. And will anything blow up if you take the weekend off? Have you already studied for your exam?”
“I've covered all the topics and I think I know it, but I can never be sure. I can't take the whole weekend off.”
For some reason, that was the straw that broke the camel's back, and tears began to roll down your face. Billy tucked his chin over your head and pressed you closer to him.
“What if you took just the rest of today off, and tomorrow morning?”
“I don't know-”
“Can't see how you're goin’ to get good studying in if you're cryin’.”
And damn, if he wasn't right about that. He just held you while you regained your composure, rubbing his hand absently over your bicep. The business of the last week finally caught up to you in something other than anxiety, and you felt your eyes begin to drift shut. Billy, though he couldn't see your face, somehow sensed you starting to drift off and eased you both into a lying position on the couch. He had your head on his chest, and the steady beat of his heart and rise and fall of his breath lulled you into a peaceful sleep.
#lowkey hate this lol! but here it is anyways#billy the kid fanfiction#billy the kid imagine#billy bonney#billy the kid x reader#billy the kid#billy the kid 2022#william h bonney x you#william h bonney x reader#william h bonney imagine#billy the kid x you#tom blyth#tom blyth x reader
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mature/explicit byler fic recs??? 👁👄👁
hi nonni!!
quick disclaimer that if ur not comfortable / not ready to explore this type of content u can just scroll past this post. I'll hide fics under the cut.
let start with explicit
"Pink in the Night" by yamilumen. Winter break after first semester of college. Will is drunk, and Mike takes care of him. The morning after, they must face the consequences. TW for dubcon ig. One of the first that I read and still one of my faves. looove byler dynamic in this one.
"in the midnight hour" by @wisehearts. He takes note of the way Will paws at his dress shirt, needy and not entirely aggressive, pressing into kisses in a way that feels like he’s asking for more rather than taking it. Persistent, but pliable if you touched him right. Red wine was fucking magic when it came to Will Byers. if u want smth sweet and hot.
"Hands" by midnighteverlark aka The Parent of byler smut. Mike doesn't like his appearance. Will wants to help out with that.
"A caged bird stands on the grave of dreams" series by AabH. Slavery AU. TW for a lot of violence and abuse.
"the feminization of michael wheeler" by one and the only lawofmurphie. how a bundle of lace and a lifelong crush distract mike from the inevitable implosion of his family unit as he knows it. not only really really hot but also great mike character study. it's more about mike's desires and acceptance at first and u have to wait till byler a bit but it won't disappoint u i promise!
"Conceived in Sin" by eternalwinters, floralsun, keeksbyers. In which Will Byers has a reputation as a bit of a prude. But Mike Wheeler, a guitarist with distinctly the opposite sort of reputation, can't seem to stop thinking about him. good boy/bad boy au we all is lacking.
"i'm starving, darlin'" by id_rather_be_home. Mike and Will are sexually frustrated eighteen-year-olds, sick and tired of having absolutely no privacy in their homes. The hand-jobs and the blow-jobs are fun but Mike will go crazy if Will isn't able to fuck him again before they leave for college in five more months. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
the whole section with my favourite trope "we pretend like it's nothing but it's actually everything". I love every fic Dearly and I would recommend to start with one of this :)
"the thing about illicit affairs" by problematicbyler. Will and Mike become friends with benefits. Which is a totally reasonable arrangement that they’re both completely content with, obviously.
"Privacy" by BottomWillByers. Dustin and Lucas were on night watch so it’s just him and Mike in the room. Having fallen asleep early, both tired from the supply run they were on earlier today, Will passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow only to be woken up a couple of hours later to pressure on his ass. It took a moment to orientate himself. Used to waking up to noise and vibration but not touch. He was pressed up tight to the wall like usual, which usually gave him inches of space between himself and Mike. But not right now. Because Mike had scootched across the bed and was spooning Will from behind. His bare chest pressed alongside Wills exposed back, one arm slung over his waist as he mumbled into the back of his head. Will’s about to ask Mike what was going on when he felt it. The consistent thrusting of Mike’s hips against the swell of his bum. His words die in his mouth as he registered that Mike was asleep. Soft moans spilled from his lips and the hard pressure of his dick stuttered against Will.
"After Hours" by pterafractal. A recently out Will Byers begins his freshman year at Indiana University, with his childhood best friend (and roommate) Mike Wheeler. Between learning to navigate the campus and keep his head above water academically, Will struggles to reconcile changes in his relationship with Mike.
"The Open Door" by Mylesime. He’s too close, too handsome, too real. And Will wants to cry because the shield has almost completely collapsed. “Mike,” he says or begs, he doesn’t know. Mike stares at him and he has never looked so serious. “I really want to do this with you.” The shield breaks. Will feels his mana bar diminish by hundreds of points. He's out of it. It will take weeks to recharge, months even. “Now?” he wails and he hates how frail he’s sounding.
"Pressure Points" by honeytart. College roommates Mike and Will begin a friends with benefits arrangement with one very important rule—absolutely no kissing.
"asking too much" by kissingpractice. Will is struggling. Guys who are nice, hot, AND good in bed are apparently non-existent at their university. Frustrated, he complains to Mike - who makes him an offer he can't refuse. Unfortunately, there's always an aftermath to hooking up with your best friend. Meanwhile, Mike has some realisations.
and mature for anyone who is not ready to deep dive yet
"Touch Me Like You Know Me" by @starsarefire824. Mike doesn't go home anymore, not unless absolutely necessary. Instead, he stays far away from Hawkins, quietly shutting himself off from the world, and burying the pain of the things he never said to the boy he'd left behind. But when his mother convinces him to return home for his thirty-fifth birthday, Mike is finally forced to confront just how much he'd given up when he runs into Will by accident. Mike-centric. Estranged Byler reconnection fic. Soft and Sweet.
"Broken Wings" by Turning_tides. Mike returns to Hawkins after his freshman year of college, riddled with regret and eager to make up for the biggest mistake of his life - hurting Will. He quickly learns, however, that his estranged best friend is being kept behind a locked door. A locked door named Keith. Now, Mike finds himself in a race against time to locate the key, desperate to free the boy he loves from the prison his abuser created just for him. TW for abuse and drug addiction.
"the comforts that make us feel numb" by @newlesbianprideflag “No, but really. If I were a girl,” Mike presses on, looking up at Will with red-rimmed eyes through dark lashes. Leaning in. Somehow, fully unaware that this line of questioning has Will's heart climbing up to his throat. “Would you want to kiss me?” Will and Mike get high in the desert.
"any semblance of touch" by stella :) Mike’s still new to this whole smoking thing. Will has a few ideas.
"In Undertow" by olliecoddle. four months after one byers/wheeler couple breaks up, another gets married. and, of course, will and mike are both the best men. and, of course, there is a plot to get them back together. nothing goes to plan.
***
there're a lot more then i thought 😭 there're genuinely so many good works. i could look for just one and stumbled upon three other I wanted to include in the list. and i think it's pretty obvious what kind of dynamics i prefer. anyway.
i hope u'll find smth new to u anon but if u won't u can drop ur fic recs in my inbox. love u <3
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college smut headcanons with the tcm boys and fem!reader getting it on. if you want one with the girls lemmie know ;) minors dni
weekly study dates with sonny and making out in the library. this man gets shy so easily and is constantly looking over his shoulder, even when the aisle is quiet and no one goes through it. as things gets more heated between you, the study dates take place in your dorms where sonny is more open and relaxed. you take control as sonny is not the most experienced, constantly asking for consent and checking if what you are doing is okay. he nods along, his heart racing a million miles per hour, wondering how he got so lucky with you. the study dates don't involve a lot of academic learning, but you soon learn this man is a natural at oral. his attention to detail lets him discover what makes you feel good, his tongue the perfect rhythm as he eats you out. his slender fingers fitting perfectly between your slick walls, showering you in kisses as he worships your body. he's too humble to know how good he's making you feel and how much his touch drives you crazy. he makes you orgasm effortlessly, holding your quivering body in his arms, bathing in your warmth.
danny likes to sneak into your dorm and surprise you when he gets off work. you tell him off, worried he will get caught. he doesn't care, he's been thinking about you and can't go another day without seeing you. distracting you from studying, wrapping his arms around you and engulfing you into a rugged, passionate kiss. a metallic smell clings to his clothes from his day of work, and they are quickly discarded as you rip off each others clothes and collapse onto the bed. there is a roughness to how he handles you, but it's powered with passion, his hands pressing hard against your skin and ready to relieve the stress that has burdened him all day. the way he fucks you is immersive, towering over you as his thick cock stretches you out. he's slow at first, looking deeply into your eyes, kissing your face and neck to soothe the temporary pain. he likes hearing you beg for him, being a slight tease, before giving you what you want. he fucks you deep into your cheap dorm bed, not caring how much it creaks, only focusing on making you feel good. he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, teasing you for liking it rough, calling you his sweet darlin'.
you end up stuck in seven minutes in heaven with leland at a party. the cupboard so narrow it's pressing your bodies together. even with the lack of light, leland can't help but check you out. your breasts press against his chest and his cock bulges against his tight jeans. you feel it too, and you're looking up at him so innocently he can't help but kiss you. it turns into a heated makeout. he grinds against you as he kisses your neck, and you muffle your moans into his shoulder. with the remaining five minutes, leland is fucking his cock into your hand, his hands cupping your breasts. you curse the small closet and the lack of time, wishing for him to be inside you and fucking you senseless. someone shouts '1 minute left!' and leland doesn't want to stop, using the last remaining time to kiss you. you both compose yourself, ready for the door to open, making a deal to meet up later and finish what you started.
#i like whoring up my favourite men#sonny williams x reader#danny gaines x reader#leland mckinney x reader#tcm game#texas chainsaw massacre#creepling.brainrot#smut headcanons
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Breathe
word count: 461 || avg. reading time: 2 mins.
pairing: post-time skip Kita x chubby!Reader
genre: comfort
warnings: uni stress
synopsis: you are having a medium meltdown about academics and your boyfriend comforts you
____________________________________________
Kita looked up from his book when your pen zoomed past him and hit the wall. It was exam season and as always it was everything but pleasant. In true student fashion you had only started your paper with three days left until the deadline. You had been trying to write all day but it wasn’t turning out anywhere close to your satisfaction - who would’ve thought. You knew what you would have to write, you knew how you wanted to make your point but you had no idea where to start.
“Ya okay there, sweetheart?”, your boyfriend asked. He had been keeping you company after getting home from work and you were happy about him being there, as that was normally enough to calm you down but today it just infuriated you more. He didn’t have to deal with uni stress. He didn’t have to think about student debt and stupid term papers.
You buried your face in your hands and groaned loudly. You took deep breaths, trying not to cry.
You heard a shuffling and the next minute, he was kneeling next to your chair.
“Hey, look at me.”, Kita said softly, pulling your hands in his. You look at him with tearfilled eyes and his heart pulled painfully at the sight.
“Ya can do this.” Even in his own ears that sounded hollow and he didn’t blame you for snorting in disbelief. He cupped your cheek and pulled you closer to lean his forehead against yours. “Breathe.”
You did as you were told. “I’m here. Breathe.” His words were barely more than a whisper, but the soothing tone of his voice gave you something to cling to and he wiped away your tears with his thumb as he repeated his mantra a few more times. You closed your eyes and silence fell.
For a long time you just sat there like this. Him on the floor, you in your chair, one hand of his gently squeezing yours, the other caressing your cheek reassuringly.
He paid close attention to every sound you made. When he was sure you had calmed down enough, he said quietly “I love ya.” and pressed the most delicate of kisses to your lips.
You sat up a little in your chair, looking at the man kneeling in front of you and wondered what you had done to deserve him. His warm smile made you feel safe.
He rose from the floor, still holding your hand and pulled slightly, bringing your soft form into his strong arms. With gentle fingers he combed through your hair and held you tighter, setting another kiss to your temple. “Come on, darlin’. I’m gonna make us some dinner and then we’ll snuggle up on the couch for a bit, hm?”
____________________________________________
✨ @rinnndoll 🫶🏻✨
#kita x chubby reader#haikyuu x chubby reader#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu comfort#chubby reader#kita shinsuke#kita x reader#haikyuu kita#kita fluff#hq kita#kita imagine#kita comfort#haikyuu x reader#hq comfort#kita shinsuke x reader#kita shinsuke x you#kita shinsuke x chubby reader#kita shinsuke x y/n
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I just got my masters degree and my bf did not want to celebrate because it’s not that big of a deal and instead he went out by himself.
Would you do an imagine with any of the Pedro boys or him himself celebrating it? I just need a Little pick me up ❤️
No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader
A/N: OH MY GOD HONEY!!! CONGRATULATIONS 👏🎉💐🎉 This is amazing! Such great news honestly, I couldn't even make it through graduation so if you managed to get your masters degree this is a huge deal!!! I hope you are enjoying yourself at the moment and forgive me if I step outta line here honey but your bf is a piece of shit honestly, you know what's not a big deal? His mf ass!!! Once again I'm sorry bestie but you deserve way better than this guy honestly, and well, I thought about it and I decided to go with Joel because he would exactly how to treat you right ❤️
• Joel loves how smart and hard working you are, he is a guy who isn't book smart even if you praise him for his emotional and rational intelligence, he knows that in your relationship you got the brains
• he supports you through everything you decide to do, concerning your academic or professional life, he supports you no matter what and he loves bragging about you and how successful you are
• he would proudly tell anyone you were getting your masters degree because
"you gotta be smart for that, you know, darlin'"
• and once you finally get your masters degree, Joel feels his heart bursting with pride and love and he just gets too excited about you, he wants to know if you will have some kind of ceremony because he will be there
• he hopes he doesn't have to wear a suit but he would if he had to, as long as you are happy he is happy
• Joel would get himself a new shirt and some new jeans, he would put on his good boots™ and his leather jacket 🫦 looking his best for you
• afterwards he would take you out to celebrate just the two of you to some place where you can have some drinks and good food, he's a steakhouse man and no one can try to prove me otherwise but I'm certain he would go for a japanese or italian restaurant if it makes you happy
• he would gift you something too, I'm sure he would go for jewelry, not something awfully expensive, our sweet Joel ain't rich but you can bet he would choose either a beautiful bracelet or a gorgeous pair of earrings and perhaps a necklace
• or even that kind of ring we all would dream of getting from him 😉
• on the weekend he would make sure to throw a barbecue in celebration of you, calling your family, your friends, Sarah and Tommy so everyone could cheer and congratulate you for your achievement
• he is just so happy you managed to accomplish your stuff, he can't even describe into words, he just loves it and he could never hide how proud he is ❤️
____
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal headcanon#pedro pascal headcanons#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#joel miller headcanon#joel miller headcanons
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Promise Kept (Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader)
This is an abo fic so if you don’t like don’t read! (no spice)
Summary: Reader is an omega aviator who has fought tooth and nail to be where she is. She never gave alphas the time of day, until Bradley Bradshaw walked into her life. Even then, she can’t bring herself to let him all the way in, until one night, after a fight with Hangman leaves her with too many doubts to ignore.
Warnings: none really, it gets a little saucy, but doesn’t go past some intense-ish making out. Some internalized prejudice.
word count: 6036 (ended up being kind of a slow burn)
Society had come a long way with how omegas were treated. No longer considered second class citizens, or fragile glass creatures in need of protection, they were treated just like everyone else practically everywhere. Practically.
As always, nothing is perfect. Some people still hold to their prejudice, much like how some women still face sexism, regardless of their secondary gender. For some reason, you just weren’t expecting to come face to face with it in the Navy. Perhaps you should have.
Being an omega, and a woman, meant you had to fight tooth and nail for every sliver of perception you could. In the academy, that meant studying every night and giving up all aspects of a social life to be at the top of the class. It meant long nights spent at the gym after studying, beating your body into a muscular shape, which was no simple task. No one ever told you how difficult it would be to keep your physique as an omega, something about your body being adapted to be softer, rounder, more protective. The odds never phased you, though. You wouldn’t have joined the Navy if they did.
And it worked. You bested everyone academically, and stood your ground in training against the alphas and betas. You weren’t the first omega to pass through the academy, but they all acted like you were, which only stoked the fire in you more, a fire that had been in you since you were young. Always push back. Don’t step down for anyone. Prove that you deserve to be there. Prove them wrong.
When you joined the Navy as an aviator, you started on your suppressants and never let up on your training. Even at that point, when everyone said you’d made it, when your parents urged you to take it slow, go out, meet people (‘an alpha’ was barely hidden in their tone), you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. You were going to prove to the world if you had to that omegas deserved to be treated with just as much respect as alphas, and you’d fight anyone if they thought otherwise.
Hence how you end up almost killing a certain frenemy of yours. Several times.
“Hangman, if you don’t shut your trap, I’m going to shave your head in your sleep,” you snap, teeth grinding as you glare up at the taller aviator.
“Ooooh, the omega has claws.” He gives you that annoying smirk, the one that makes you want to smack him over the head with a pool stick.
That would break it though. You don’t want to put Penny out like that, so you stick to a scathing growl. Placing the stick down on the table, you notice your other friends take wary steps back as you come to stand toe to toe with the prick of a blond. Good. You wouldn’t want anyone else getting into this right now.
“Do you want to go, Bagman? See just how sharp these claws are?”
He scoffs, “We wouldn’t want you getting hurt now, would we, Widow?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your eyes narrow.
“Look, darlin’-” The word makes your brow twitch. “-it’s just a simple fact that alphas are stronger than omegas. I’m just saying you’re no exception.”
“I could put you on the ground in less than a minute,” you growl, anger digging into your chest like a hot iron.
“Oh please, if you weren’t on suppressants, we’d be having a very different conversation right now.”
A low murmur spreads through your group, even amongst the standers-by who overhear your argument. Your jaw clicks with how hard you clench your teeth together, a dull pain thrumming up to your temple. Slowly, you tilt your chin up and square your shoulders, every aspect of your posture screaming of a dominance you shouldn’t possess, a dominance you’ve taken by force. Hangman’s gaze turns wary at the challenge.
“Oh, he’s done it now,” Phoenix murmurs, eyes dancing with barely contained amusement.
“I wouldn’t want you even if you were the last alpha on the planet,” you murmur, voice like a storm brewing out over the ocean, “You should just admit that you can’t beat me in a fight instead of resorting to being such a douchebag. It would look better.”
“You know what I think? I think it’d look better if yo-”
“Watch your mouth, Hangman.”
You bite down on a flare of frustration when a solid body steps between the two of you. Your eyes travel up, trailing over muscular arms, across broad shoulders, up to a mop of dark curls crowned by a pair of aviators and you stiffen.
Rooster.
You reluctantly take a step back, watching the two alphas glare at each other. The look in Rooster’s eyes sends your pulse racing. They burn with something fiercely protective, something utterly dark that curls low in your abdomen. Usually you’d butt back in, because you don’t need rescuing. You don’t need an alpha to protect you, nor do you want one.
But it’s always been different with Rooster, as much as you don’t want to admit it. When he comes to your defense, a deep neglected feeling crawls up your throat and practically chokes you. You’ve tried to ignore it. Tried to ignore how nice he smells, all leather and mahogany and clean linen. How his touch feels like warmth and ice and electricity all at once. Or how he looks at you like you’ve hung the stars when you win in combat, smile dripping with pride and something you don’t dare put a finger on. You can’t. You can’t, because if you do, you’re terrified that feeling will drown you, and you’ll turn into exactly the thing you don’t want to be.
So you settle for stepping back to watch, desperately clinging to the anger still simmering in your veins. Desperate to ignore the prominent veins tracing the alpha’s taut arms and the attractive edge of his clenched jaw.
He’s just an alpha. An alpha like any other. Even if he treats you like an equal. Even if he’s never been anything except respectful to you.
“What, Bradshaw? As if you don’t think the same thing?” A taunting smile returns to Hangman’s lips. “I’m just playing the part, but we all see the way you look at our favorite omega.”
Those words make you stiffen. Eyes wide, you glance up at Rooster, whose ears are tinging pink.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denies, a warning in his tone.
“Oh really?” The blond presses, far too entertained by the reactions he’s garnering. His eyes slide to you again, and for once, you feel unsettled by the mischief you find there. “Have you noticed, (L/n)? Because I sure don’t feel like I’m imagining it.”
You don’t know how to respond. It’s like the words have tangled on your lips, like they’re anchored there, too heavy to spit out, too terrifying to face. And you hate just how weak that makes you feel.
“Just drop it, Hangman,” Rooster growls. “You’re making her uncomfortable.”
“Fine.” Jake raises his hands, that idiotic smirk still curling his lips as he takes a mock step back. “You really need to lighten up, Bradshaw. Wouldn’t want someone getting the wrong idea, since you don’t want her apparently.”
That statement settles in your gut like a rock, especially when Bradley just clenches his jaw again and doesn’t say a word.
Leave it to Hangman to stir the pot, or to set the heat until things boil over in this case. You want to throttle him, maybe deprive him of the ability to have kids, but you are far too aware of all the eyes on you, both your friends and the various strangers populating the bar. It makes you want to disappear, or yell, but neither are really an option right now.
Running away means you’re a coward, a weak little omega who can’t stand up to some bullying.
Yelling would just make you look crazy.
So once again you’re forced to settle. You drop into the seat next to Phoenix, watching Rooster take a deep, slow breath before he storms off to the bar, for a drink you presume. It seems most evenings with Hangman require some form of alcohol to make it through. Too bad you were a designated tonight, or you’d be joining him.
“You okay?” Bob, sweet beta he is, gives you the softest concerned look from across the table.
“Yeah,” you sigh, “Nights like these make me deeply question why I’m friends with that knot-head though.”
“Who else would you argue with if he weren’t around?” Phoenix laughs into her drink.
You don’t say anything in reply. Part of you wants to say that you don’t love arguing. It frustrates you more than anything, how the blond knows how to get such strong reactions from you. And it’s even worse that he always seems to do it around Rooster, which leads to moments like this, where you can’t control the ache in your heart that clashes with the fire in your veins, leaving you to burn in your own uncertainty.
The rest of the night goes on peacefully, which is likely due to the uptake of alcohol. Despite telling yourself it’s a bad idea, you can’t help but keep an eye on Rooster. The man appears to sulk a few tables over, not paying much attention to the conversation Fanboy and Pay Back keep trying to draw him into. Worry burrows deep into your chest when he switches from nursing a beer to a glass of whiskey, dark eyes lost in thought.
You wish you knew what he was thinking. You wish you could walk right over there and ask him. Pretend the evening never happened. But that uncertainty clings to you like a tick, small and irritating and impossible to tear out.
He’s an alpha.
But he’s also your best friend.
Everythings has always been different with Rooster. At first, you’d hated him. He was just another opponent, another obstacle you had to overcome to be the best. You used to bicker, much like Hangman, but he never once brought up your secondary gender. He respected you, despite all your back and forth. He treated you like an equal, something you had only experienced with Phoenix.
Then, one day, you crashed. It was an accident, an error with the plane. Apparently something was missed in the inspection before you went up. You ended up in the hospital for a few days, and when you woke up, there he was. Sitting at your bedside, somehow asleep while looking horribly uncomfortable in one of those stiff hospital chairs.
Things shifted after that.
That day you saw a new side to the aviator. He was softer, charismatic smirk replaced with the most genuine smile when he realized you were awake. It gave you pause back then. Made you doubt everything you thought about alphas. From then on, you spent most of your time together, and your arguments turned to playful banter, which turned into late night talks, which turned into phone calls when your deployment took you to different places.
It all went so fast, leaving you grasping at straws when you first noticed how your heart skips a beat when he gives you one of those soft, lopsided smiles.
But he’s an alpha.
And you still can’t face the idea of being a typical, lovestruck omega, not after an entire lifetime and trying to be anything but. What would everyone think of you? What if you fell behind? The doubt is crippling, to say the least.
So you stay at your table, nursing your own cup of lemonade, distractedly adding to a conversation with Phoenix and Bob while watching the alpha down drink after drink. Eventually he starts smiling again, laughing just a little too loud like he usually does when he’s drank too much.
“Wanna play a round, Widow?” You glance over at Hangman, who holds out a pool stick to you. A peace offering perhaps. Some of the tension leaks from your shoulders.
“No thanks, Bagman, not really in the mood to play,” you hum, though you give him the faintest smile to make sure he knows the two of you are good. He nods, too white smile on his lips as he tosses the stick to Coyote instead.
When you look back to Rooster, you freeze. He’s looking at you, for the first time since the stand-off. His eyes, such a peculiar shade of hazel and brown, are glazed over, but they burn with an intensity that makes your breath get lost somewhere in your lungs. Smile gone, it’s replaced with a look you are far too familiar with. It’s the look he gets whenever he’s trying to figure something out, how to attack, how to win, how to succeed at a certain maneuver. But it’s solely focused on you.
You meet his eyes, one brow raising in challenge. Not a single sign of submission. A soft glint sparks in his gaze, something dark and fond, as a smile pulls at the corner of his lips. You don’t back down, even as his eyes trail down, lingering for a heated second on your lips, before trailing over the exposed length of your neck and collarbone. Subconsciously, your shoulders draw up, and your eyes narrow into a glare. Rooster leans back in his seat, eyes sparkling as they trail back to meet yours. Too dark. Too warm. Too hungry.
You break away, heart suddenly in your throat. And you’re shaking. You tuck your fingers between your thighs, desperate to hide the slight tremor. You can still feel his gaze, feel it warming your skin to the point of setting a fire. For the first time in what feels like forever, a blush spreads up your neck and across your cheeks. A low chuckle sounds from a few tables down.
“I’m gonna kill him,” you grumble under your breath.
“Who?” Phoenix asks, though the smirk on her face gives away that she knows.
“Rooster,” You tell her anyway.
“Oh please, you love him. He could wreck your car and you’d still ruffle his hair like you do and forgive him,” she laughs, and Bob nods along. “He loves that by the way.”
“Huh?”
“The two of you are very oblivious,” Bob adds, which is like a punch in the gut coming from the beta.
“What do you mean?” You look between your two friends, frustration building when they merely share a look and laugh.
“Nothing, Widow. Just might be some time for a heart to heart with ‘Roo’.” She puts the nickname in air quotes, because it’s what you notoriously call him. No one else can get away with it, lest Bradshaw bite their heads off. He lets you though, and they’ve all seen the fond smile it brings to his lips. It’s so painfully obvious, to everyone except you and him apparently.
You’re about to bite back, maybe something about her and Hangman, but the sound of a sharp shuffle draws your attention away. Rooster is jostling out of his seat, slurring something about another round, but he can barely keep himself upright. With a sigh, you slip from your booth, heading towards the idiot.
“Case in point!”
You send Phoenix a glare over your shoulder, but it turns to something fond when she gives you a cheesy thumbs up, eyebrow wiggling. They’re all idiots, you decide.
You make it to Rooster’s side just in time, as he practically trips over his own feet.
“Woah, buddy,” you laugh, catching him around the middle. You can feel the heat of his body, even through his Hawaiian shirt. Rooster has always run so warm. “I think it’s time to get you home.”
A cacophony of protests sound from the rest of the table, but Bradley just looks down at you with a doe-eyed smile. You stomp down the fondness curling in your stomach, and instead draw his arm over your shoulder and curl an arm tight around his waist.
“I’m taking this dufus home. Try not to die while I’m gone!” You call, receiving a mixture of laughter and catcalls (Hangman of course), which you ignore.
Now, moving a 6’2” alpha is no easy task. Not when it’s Rooster, who can barely keep a foot under him when he’s tipsy and is only coordinated when he plays the piano. Usually, on nights like this, the main struggle is getting him to stop laughing long enough to get his feet to move, but tonight, he’s suspiciously quiet as you lead him out to your car. You can still feel his eyes on you, but this time you’re too scared to meet them. You don’t want to know what he’s thinking now. You don’t want to think about the fact that you’re alone with him now. An alpha. A drunk alpha at that. Even if he is your best friend.
The cold, night air helps to ease the warmth dancing under your skin. It seems to help Rooster sober up just a little too, as he fumbles his way into your passenger seat. You reach across him, intent on buckling the idiot up, but freeze when his fingers curl around your wrist.
Slowly, so slowly, you lean back to look at him, ready to bite, knock him out if you need to, but Bradley just smiles. It’s one of those soft, genuine ones, brimming in his eyes, boyishly lopsided. And you melt. You buckle him up and take a moment to ruffle a hand through his soft curls, drawing a content hum from the dirty blond. He just keeps looking at you, all smiley, eyes half-lidded.
“What am I gonna do with you, Roo?” You sigh.
“Kiss me?”
A shocked laugh parts your lips at the earnest suggestion. This finally gets Rooster to frown, though it looks more like a pout, which makes you giggle more. Leave it to Bradley to always be unexpected.
“Maybe when you’re sober, Roo,” you tease, and this seems to bring back his grin.
“‘m holdin’ you to that.”
You snort, knowing he probably won’t even remember this conversation in the morning, though a small part of you hopes he will. A small part you chastise as you close his door and move to the driver’s seat.
The drive is surprisingly quiet, until the sound of Rooster’s soft snores fill the car. A fond smile captures your lips. Looks like you had the perfect timing. He wouldn’t have lasted much longer at the bar. When you reach his apartment, you take a moment to just look at Rooster. His brow, usually knotted together for some reason or another, is smooth in his sleep, making him look younger, softer. His hair is a little mussed from when you ruffled it, a few strands falling over his forehead, tempting you to brush them back.
He really is handsome, you think. You don’t often let yourself entertain it, but Bradley really is something. Tall, muscular, with a defined jaw and a confidence to match. He’s an ideal alpha. Yet, that’s not what you find yourself drawn to. No, it’s those moments in the air when he calls on you to make the decision. It’s all the times he invites you over for a drink and just listens. It’s everything else about him that drives you crazy. He’s the perfect alpha.
You wonder if he’d ever pick you, as his omega.
And then, immediately, you shove that thought down and jump out of the car. Bradley jumps awake when you slam the door, eyes blearily tracking you as you make it to him and unbuckle him.
“Come on, big man, time to get you to bed,” you huff as you drag him up.
“You’re so strong,” Rooster mumbles, the look on his face just short of adoration.
Your face flushes, “Strong enough to drag you around. Better keep that in mind the next time you try to pick a fight with me.”
A moment of silence.
And then - “’m not Bagman.”
You stop, casting the alpha a curious glance. You hadn’t been insinuating that, but suddenly he looks too serious, brows furrowed, mouth set in a firm line.
“I know you’re not, Roo,” you murmur gently.
“I don’t like how he talks to you.” He frowns, now facing you completely.
“Yah? How so?” You slowly redirect him to the door.
“Don’t like how ‘e treats you like some ‘mega. You’re an omega, but he, he-” He practically growls, and your shoulders tense. “He’s no manners. I should knock some ‘nto him.”
You loosen when you realize the root of his anger. He doesn’t like that Hangman blatantly disrespects you as an omega. You were expecting it to be some protective alpha thing, since the two of you are so close, and it is to some degree you’re sure, but it lifts a little of your unease knowing that this is partially his chivalry thing. He once told you it’s how his mother raised him, since she was an omega and his father had passed away. His only other real influence was Maverick, who happens to be a beta.
“Well, I bet if we messed his face up a bit, he wouldn’t be so rude,” you hum, laughing softly when Bradley nods aggressively.
You prop the alpha against the wall and fish his keys from his pocket, shuffling nervously when he goes quiet, heavy gaze falling down on you again. If only he weren’t a good head taller than you, then maybe it would be easier to face that look.
Instead, you swiftly step into his small apartment, busying yourself with grabbing a cup of water for him and a couple aspirin for when he wakes up the next morning. He watches from the doorway, only moving in when you tell him to go change.
And boy do you regret that when you slip into his room. You were intending to just check on him one last time, make sure he didn’t slip and die whilst changing, but you instead come face to face with a notably shirtless Rooster.
“Ah, I was just um, I just-” You gulp, unable to tear your eyes away from him.
It’s not the first time you’ve seen Rooster shirtless, but this is different. This isn’t on the beach, when he’s covered in sweat and dancing to a victory play in dog fight football. No, this is in the dim light of his room, the soft glow from the kitchen just illuminating the prominent muscles of his abdomen, the smooth planes of his chest, the line of his collarbone, every inch of him tan and glowing and perfect.
When you finally do bring yourself to look away, to look at his face, you’re met with the most wolfish grin.
“Like what you see, Widow?”
Heat flushes through your chest, your breath catching in your throat. A small voice in you screams danger danger danger, but you can’t move as Rooster inches closer. His hands hover over your sides, close enough that you can feel his warmth, but not touching.
And part of you begs him to. Wants him to touch you, grab you, hold you, do whatever he wants. It collides viciously with the relief that swarms you when his hands settle gently on your arms. But then he’s leaning over you, face coming so so close to yours and you can’t breathe again. Your thoughts are swimming, lost to the whirlwind of the homey scent that envelops you.
“I wanna tell you something,” Rooster mumbles, warm breath brushing your face, the faint scent of whiskey not as gross as it should be.
“What is it, Bradley?” Your voice doesn’t quiver. It doesn’t.
He looks at you, and for a moment, it’s like he’s completely sober. His eyes are clear and bright, swimming with more emotion than you thought someone could hold. It feels like your heart is pushing through your chest.
“He’s wrong.”
“Who’s wrong?”
He hesitates only a second before the words spill from his lips, “Hangman. He said I don’t want you. He’s wrong.”
The air fizzles between the two of you as you process what he’s saying.
Bradley wants you. Is that what he means? He wants you? In what way? You’re suddenly overflowing with questions, each one dancing on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t bring yourself to ask them. Not now. Not when he’s like this and you can’t even seem to get your head straight. You don’t even know what you want, for Mavericks sake. (haha funny)
“I think you should get some sleep, Roo,” you all but whisper, “We can talk tomorrow.”
“It’s okay-” He draws you close just to press the softest kiss to your temple. It’s so innocent and sweet, you almost melt. “-know you don’t like alphas. Jus’ had to tell ya.”
And your heart breaks. His voice softens with something horribly sad and resigned, like he’s thought about this before, like he’s told it to himself over and over again. Because of you. Because of your stubborn prejudice. You’re no better than all the people you’ve been judging.
“Let’s get you to bed,” you croak, not meeting his eyes as you pull the man deeper into his bedroom.
He flops onto the mattress unceremoniously, immediately grabbing one of your hands when you turn to leave.
“Stay?”
You bite your lip, torn between running, escaping all this mess in your heart that he’s not even aware of, or doing exactly what he asks, because that’s all you want.
All you’ve ever wanted.
“Yah,” you rasp and settle down on the edge of his bed, “I’ll stay Roo, we’ll talk in the morning, okay?”
“An’ you’ll give me that kiss?” He peaks up at you with one eye, already fighting sleep.
You smile and gently brush your free hand through his curls, “Guess you’ll just have to get some sleep and see.”
Rooster eagerly closes his eyes and buries into his blankets, though that big, dopey grin stays on his lips even as he quickly drifts off. You linger, fingers still petting his hair, until you’re sure he’s asleep. Then, slowly, to not wake him up, you untangle your hand from his and make your way to the door.
Right before you close it, you hear a low, muffled, “Night, (Y/n).”
“Good night, Bradley,” you murmur back and silently shut the door.
You slump against the wood, a long whoosh of air escaping your lips.
How on earth are you supposed to process all of that?
It feels like everything is clicking together and falling apart, all at once.
Rooster wants you. You can still feel the warmth where his lips pressed against your skin. And you can’t really deny how you feel about him, not after all of that. Not only had you brought him home alone, drunk, and stumbled in on him shirtless, but nothing had happened. He never pressed, never made a move besides some flirting which is just so notoriously Rooster. Even drunk, he was more respectful than most people had ever been to you.
You love him.
There’s no other way to describe the deep, aching fondness in your chest.
You trust him, which seems even more important. Bradley would never do anything you wouldn’t want, he would never push himself on you, he would never force you to be something you’re not. Yet, you’ve made him feel like it’s impossible, because of your stupid vendetta against alphas.
The decision is made right then and there.
In the morning, when he’s more sober, you’ll show him just how much you like him and want him as an alpha. There will be no more doubt, no more holding back, no more suppressing every instinct that claws at your chest at the sight of him.
In the morning, he’ll definitely be getting that kiss.
---
When Rooster wakes up, it’s still dark out. A habit from all the early mornings for the job. He groans softly, head pounding like a herd of elephants are traipsing around inside it. He looks around blearily in the dark, barely catching the silhouette of a glass of water on his bed stand and the pills sitting next to it. He downs the painkillers quickly, finding the tiniest bit of relief from the cool water on his throat.
That’s the last time he drinks like that, he thinks, much like every morning he wakes up hungover.
“Good morning, Lieutenant.”
Wincing, the alpha looks up with narrowed eyes, catching a familiar sight. You’re standing at the end of his bed - how did he miss you coming in? - dressed in a pair of shorts and one of his old shirts. You look significantly better off than how he feels.
“Morning,” he rasps and clears his throat, heat climbing up his neck, “What happened last night?”
“Not much. You proposed to me in a fit of undying love and cried when I said no,” you hum, holding the straightest face you can.
Absolute horror flashes across Rooster’s face, making his eyes go wide as saucers. The blush on his neck climbs all the way across his cheeks, all the way to the tip of his ears. It only lasts for a few seconds before you burst into a fit of giggles, and understanding dawns on him. His features settle into something unimpressed.
“Not funny,” he growls, but the blush still lingering on his face makes it not too threatening.
“You’re just so fun to tease, Roo,” you coo, thoroughly entertained by the glare he sends you. You give his leg a pat, letting your touch linger - Rooster notices, his brow perking inquisitively at you - before you tuck your hands between your legs and your tone turns more serious, “Last night was fine. You just drank too much so I brought you home.”
“I didn’t do anything?”
“Weeeell…”
“(Y/n)?” His voice holds something uncertain in it, which is out of character for the aviator, and makes you soften.
You hold his gaze for a serious moment, biting your lip as you think through the words you’ve rehearsed over and over in your head. It’s not helping, not with the nerves swirling in your chest. You barely slept last night thinking about this moment.
“You were mad about what Hangman said at the bar last night,” you murmur slowly, to which he nods. That he remembers. “You wanted to make sure I knew he was wrong. You um, you said you want me?”
Bradley freezes. He looks down at his hands, fingers flexing and unflexing as he traces back the events of the night. It’s all blurry, but he does remember being close to you. Kissing you. He winces. That is not how he wanted that to go. But all the best pilots know that once you make a move, there’s no taking it back, so the best route is to just keep going…he hopes.
“And if that’s true?” He asks, bringing those dark eyes up to meet yours. They burn with the same intensity they did last night, making you bite your lips.
“Well, if that’s true…” You take a breath, gathering every ounce of courage left in your body to swing a leg over his, putting you right in his lap. Rooster inhales sharply, instinctively gripping your hips to steady you. His eyes are wide, brewing with something wicked as they stay locked on your face. “I’d have to tell you that I want you too…alpha.”
A low growl rumbles through the aviator’s chest and his fingers dig into your skin, hard enough to leave a bruise, you’re sure. And you love it. The omega in your crumbles when he draws you closer, close enough that your noses practically touch.
“You weren’t drinking last night too, were you darlin?” His voice is deliciously rough, brushing over all your senses, leaving you tingling.
“Nope,” you hum, draping your arms over his shoulders to play with the curls at his neck, “I’m all here, Bradley. This is my decision.”
“And you’re choosing me?”
Instead of saying anything, you take another deep breath to still the nerves boiling away under your skin, and slowly tilt your chin, exposing the expanse of your neck to the alpha. A sign of submission.
Bradley stills, chest practically heaving as he keeps himself from moving. Both of your hearts are pounding, the moment so quiet, so tense, as you look at him from under your lashes. Your eyes swim with uncertainty and a vulnerability he has never seen, and that breaks him from his spell.
“God, I love you.” He buries his face in your neck, breathing in every bit of your scent that he can. You shiver at the feeling of his warm breath on your skin, a low giggle escaping you when he presses his lips to your neck, all gentle and slow and sure, but the brush of his mustache against your skin tickles. “I’ve loved you since that crash, probably since before it. Never thought I had a chance with you, baby girl.”
“Sorry for making you think that, Roo,” you gasp when he nips at your ear.
“Don’t be.” He presses kisses to your jaw, closer and closer to your lips. You wish he’d just hurry up. “This feels more rewarding.”
“What? Knowing you got the stubborn, little omega?” You jest, practically dizzy from all the contact, and from his scent which seems to swallow you. God, you love his scent.
“No.” He presses his forehead to yours. “Knowing you’re choosing me. It’s all you, darlin’. I never stood a chance against you.”
“I don’t think I did either,” you sigh, “Not with that stupid mustache and that face.”
“You like my face?” His eyes twinkle with boyish mirth.
“Shut up and kiss me, lieutenant.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
You can feel the curve of a smirk on his lips when they finally meet yours. And it’s perfect. His lips press gently to yours as his hands trace up your sides to cup your face. Every touch is searing, leaving behind trails of heat that make you whimper softly into the kiss. Bradley growls, the sound deep, low in his chest. He tilts your head, catches your bottom lip between his teeth, eliciting a gasp from you. He deepens the kiss, and you’re helpless against it, against him. He kisses you until you’re breathless, until you’re clinging to him and his hands are curled firmly around your waist, drawing you closer, closer, closer. Even when you break away, chest heaving for air, he doesn’t stop, just presses kisses along your neck, tugs the collar of your his shirt aside to drop kisses along your collarbone and shoulder. A shaky sigh escapes your lips, and you can’t help but curl your fingers tightly through his curls. The alpha groans, concentrating on the spot right below your ear that makes you tremble. You whine when he bites the spot, and a low rumble vibrates his chest as he traces his tongue over the stinging skin before he presses one final kiss over it.
Your whole body is like a live wire. You can’t catch your breath, can’t stop the shaking of your hands or the wild pace of your heart. But you feel alive. You feel alive for the first time in forever.
“I love you,” Bradley murmurs again as he presses his forehead to yours, eyes closed as he too tries to catch his breath.
“I love you, too,” you laugh breathlessly, “I can’t believe I’ve made you wait so long.”
“Worth it.” He hits you with that stupid, lopsided grin you love so much.
“Definitely….”
“...alpha.”
Bradley opens his eyes, glaring at you playfully, “Don’t start something you can’t finish, darlin’.”
You peck his lips one last time, teasingly soft, before you jump up from the bed and make your way to the kitchen.
“Wouldn’t dream of it! I kept my promise about the kiss, didn’t I?”
A low laugh sounds from the bedroom, and you smile.
Yah, this was the right decision.
Note: This was purely self-indulgent when I wrote it, but I liked it, so I figured I’d post it somewhere. Hope someone else likes it!
#top gun#top gun maverick#rooster#rooster x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#reader#reader insert#x reader#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradsaw x reader#abo#abo dynamics#alpha Bradly bradshaw#alpha rooster#omega reader#don't judge pls
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It's all academic darlin' PART 4/10
We have a final count for parts! 16k+ Hangster AU. IceMav is only really in Part 4 as background (and again in part 9 maybe?) Will be finished by 14th January 2024.
SUMMARY: Bradley is a professor but living his best life with IceMav parents. Jake is a pilot. Maverick sort-of tries (and fails) to play matchmaker, so he tries again. Touch of epistolary and sprinkling of one-sided unknown/mistaken-identity.
PART 1 PART 2 PART 3
PART 4
The only downside of getting picked up by Mav is that he doesn’t get to go straight home. He’s used to it though. His apartment will be stuffy after being closed up for nearly three weeks. Although he knows Kezia will have been around diligently ensuring all his house plants remain alive and well. She does it when he’s at home, knowing that Bradley only needs to look at some of the plants sideways before they decide to shrivel up and die. Doesn’t stop people giving him plants as gifts though. He’s past the point of no return, people assuming he likes them because he has them, and since he relegated their care to Kezia he doesn’t mind them. The plants and himself will survive a couple more hours.
Something smells good when he gets out of the car, and his mouth floods with saliva. Ice started cooking more when he was stressed, much to Bradley’s benefit when he was growing up because Mav lives on food he can defrost or re-heat. Ice is the one who taught him how to cook, one of the life skills he’s most grateful for. He unlaces his boots and lines them against the wall, respects the tidiness and order that Ice likes; even if Bradley leaves his shoes lying wherever he leaves them once he’s kicked them off in his own apartment. He calls out a hello and heads through to the kitchen, Mav trailing after him.
Ice gives him a smile and a one-armed hug, other hand busy stirring something on the stove Bradley identifies as a risotto. He grabs two beers out of the fridge, pops the caps and watches as Mav sticks his finger in the risotto, complains about it being hot and crunchy and Ice makes a pained face before he pushes Mav out of the kitchen, signing that he’ll join them shortly. It’s warm out so they head to the back patio, and Bradley can see Ice preparing other things and he had to admit he loves the tradition of their welcome home meal.
It had started when Mav would get home from deployment. When he was older, Bradley would cook when Ice got back from being away. Then Ice would cook when Bradley got back; even when he hasn’t even left the country, the fact that whenever he goes away somewhere for more than a couple of nights, he comes home to Ice’s cooking and Mav wanting a full debrief of his time away. He settles into one of the loungers and takes a sip of beer, waits for Mav to start in on the questions he no doubt has.
“So, what did you think of Hangman?” Mav asks, and Bradley frowns, because he has no idea what Mav is talking about. “Jake,” Mav provides and Bradley supposes he should have guessed, although he’d love to know the story behind that callsign.
“Oh. Nice enough I guess? Polite?”
“Jake Seresin was polite?”
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
“Why do you seem upset about that? What? Did you want him to be mean to me?”
“Well, you do like them with a little, uh, fire.”
Bradley chokes on the mouthful of beer and stares. What the actual fuck?
“Dad! Fuck’s sake! Did you try and organize a…” his mind scrambles. “A date?” He finally settles on. Booty call sounds ancient, and hook up when his father figure organized it… not great either. Mav looks pleased, the way he always does when Bradley calls him Dad. He’s shaking his head though.
“No. Not intentionally. I didn’t think your paths would cross as much as they did. Thought you’d be back before he got there actually. Took him long enough to accept my offer. He… hmm.”
Bradley’s used to sentences trailing away, often when Mav realizes he’s about to say something he either shouldn’t or made a connection between two or more salient points and his mind is now off on a tangent somewhere else. If he’s a little patient it comes back soon enough.
“Hangman seems like your type.”
Bradley snorts and shakes his head.
“Well, I don’t think I’m his. He didn’t even give me a once over.” Or offer up his number when Bradley sort-of suggested he get his contact details from Mav. It’s fine really, he’s not looking for anything right now, quite happy with the status quo. He has people who can scratch his itch if it comes down to it.
“Hmm. That doesn’t sound like him at all. I always got the impression that everyone is his type. Alive and breathing. And you cooked him breakfast.”
“Oh wow, thanks for that ego boost right there… alive and breathing. Biggest compliment. And I was just trying to get rid of the leftovers.”
Mav laughs and shakes his head, takes a sip from his bottle.
“You always make breakfast when you’re trying to impress someone.”
“Seriously, I was trying to use the food. I didn’t feel any need to impress Jake.”
“I’m sure he was impressed anyway, pretty sure I heard that he managed to set fire to ramen.”
Bradley frowns, because that doesn’t gel at all with the guy who had made bread from scratch, in an unfamiliar kitchen with no yeast… Huh. Interesting.
“He told me he knew how to cook…” Bradley says, taking a small sip, his mind still wondering what kind of persona Jake Seresin portrays to other people if Mav is surprised he was polite and can’t cook. A jackass that is usually incompetent in the kitchen? He’s used to naval aviators and their egos
“Well, if the cabin burns down I guess we’ll find out who’s right.”
Bradley rolls his eyes and simply shrugs, is pretty sure there’s no danger of that happening.
“Not that it matters, because we didn’t exchange contact details. But I’m guessing he has your seal of approval…”
Mav hums non-committedly and Bradley resists rolling his eyes this time. The muscles in his eye sockets need a break.
“He saved my life.”
“What?” Bradley hates hearing about it, knows Mav is safe and sound right in front of him, but the almost flippant way he says saved my life like it isn’t something someone would ever consider saving makes his heart hurt in the worst way.
“My last ever mission, and you don’t know this, but he disobeyed direct orders and came after me.”
“Jesus Mav…” His throat is tight and eyes prickle.
“Yep.”
The mood is immediately somber and he casts around for something, anything, to lighten the mood, because doing this whole emotion thing isn’t something they ever linger on.
“So, what, you wanted me to give him a thank you BJ?”
Ice comes out, fingers snapping to get their attention and they both turn.
“Who is getting thankyou blowjobs?”Ice asks and Bradley wishes the sign for blowjob were a little less visually descriptive. He really doesn’t need the mental image, although at least he’s no longer thinking about Mav dying.
“No one!” Bradley groans.
“Nothing wrong with your hearing is there…” Mav grins, eyes crinkled warm and tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth and Bradley has seen this look too many times now to know his parental figures are now making eyes at each other over the top of his head. He turns away so they can have some privacy and he doesn’t need to see any more explicit signs. Ice clicks his fingers again and he looks back, his expression one of clear forbearance but all Ice does is smirk at him. Asshole.
“Dinner’s ready. Come eat.”
They settle at the table and Bradley lets the flow of conversation travel around him, chiming in when needed, half-follows the conversation about something Ice is doing with work. Dinner is a delicate zucchini and garlic risotto with grilled chicken thighs and a side-salad, pretty low-key except for the risotto. He answers questions about the smoker he’d fixed up so that Ice can use it next time he actually uses his vacation days and catches fish. Mav hassles him about it never happening before and Bradley enjoys being back in the familiar home with them bickering with one another.
“You also work too much,” Mav says, turning to him and Bradley looks to Ice for backup.
“Hello pot, I’d like you to meet kettle. Anyway, I just had ten days at the cabin. That’s plenty restful.”
Ice is shaking silently with amusement and Bradley points to him.
“See, Ice agrees. You’re the biggest hypocrite.”
“That ten days was meant to be three weeks.”
“You’ve been retired for months. You need a hobby,” Ice says, adding some signs for breaking things and that always fucking means Bradley’s on the ropes for fixing them and he pulls a face, shaking his head and giving Ice a betrayed look.
“Meddling with Bradley’s love life is my new hobby.”
“The fuck it is. No. Pick a different hobby.”
“He could look after your plants…” Ice interjects, his sign for plants though is dead plants and Bradley pulls another face and gives him the finger which just makes him laugh roughly, making the sign for apple and tree before laughing again. He’s glad someone is enjoying themselves.
“Why do I have to be involved at all? What about another fixer-upper? Bike or plane?” Ice pulls a face and slaps his arm. “Model planes? That’d be more affordable. And take up less space?”
“And boring as hell.”
“Learn to cook!”
“No!” Ice actually says, voice low and rough, the look of sheer horror on his face makes Bradley snort.
“Mav cooking is exciting at least!”
“Waste of good ingredients,” Ice signs, mouth pulled down in displeasure now that said hobbies are encroaching on his territory. Fuck, they’re going to have to come up with something together otherwise Mav will annoy the shit out of them both. Maybe his love life is the safest, he’s had plenty of practice in ignoring Mav at least.
“Hey, I could learn to cook! I’m sure you could both teach me…” Bradley winces, because trying to teach Mav anything is painful and Ice seems to agree, hands flashing quickly with cannot teach, pushing his chair back and shaking his head before walking away while Mav blusters and says he’s perfectly capable of taking direction. Bradley snorts because that’s a load of bullshit and he finds himself making that sign automatically.
“Giving me the bird while you walk away doesn’t count as getting the final word in!” Mav calls at Ice’s retreating back, before turning to Bradley. “I could learn to cook you know, if I put my mind to it.”
“Mav, we all have our personal strengths and weaknesses…”
Mav’s eyes narrow and Bradley smirks, because it’s exactly a line that Mav has given him more than once when he’s struggled with not being good at something.
“Also Ice and I both enjoy cooking. You view it as a chore.”
“I do worry about you though, your work…”
Bradley sighs, pushes his empty plate away and rubs at his temple.
“Mav… my job is safe. Imagine how you’d feel if I had joined the Navy and went on deployment for months on end?”
“You went and lived in Europe for three years!”
“To do my doctorate. And now I’m back and have been for over a decade. Mav, I’m… I love my job okay? You love flying, and Ice… and I get that you want me to have what you have with Ice. But I’m okay. I’m happy. I have plenty of friends, and while I get it might be nice to have someone at home, I don’t need that to be happy. Also I actually really enjoy the novelty of not feeling guilty for not ignoring my partner because of work,” he states, because that is what had been the demise of his last relationship and Mav fucking knows it too.
“Do you think it would be different with the right person though?”
“Oh for… please don’t start. Look, if something happens, it happens. But it’s not a priority for me right now.”
“I was just hoping for grandkids…”
“Bullshit. You’ve got plenty of young people in your life. And I don’t want kids. You know that. Amelia scares the shit out of me and I have to work with too many teenagers as it is already.”
“Yeah, you’re lucky you survived your teen years. Ice and I held each other back from killing you on multiple occasions.”
“Sure Mav…”
“Why do you always think I’m lying when I say that?”
PART FIVE
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If my Hands Could Fix It (Joel Miller)
Part 4 of Build You the World
Joel X Reader
Rating: PG-13 (Language and some sexual references)
Warnings: fluffy, angst, talk of pregnancy related things, trying to conceive, struggling to conceive.
Tags: pre outbreak/no outbreak, fluff, craftsman!Joel, we're in the 90s folks... but wait... also the year 2000!
Words: 4260
Series Master List | Author Master list
You and Joel got married in April in the backyard. Joel built a pergola that you covered in wildflowers and baby’s breath. It was a small ceremony, only about 35 people, but you preferred it that way.
You went to Mexico for your honeymoon. A week on a beach full of sand, sun, and sex. A lot of sex with no children to interrupt you or for you to accidentally wake up. Panic hit on day 3 when you realized you hadn’t taken your birth control pills and only ensued when you realized the pills were still sitting on the bathroom counter at home. You rifled through your bags for a fourth time just to be certain.
“Darlin, what's wrong?”
You looked up. Joel already had his swim trunks on and a towel over his shoulder. His farmer’s tan was fading from just a couple days on the beach. “I think I left something at home.”
“Can’t be that important-”
“My birth control.”
“Oh.”
You looked at him. He seemed to recall the events of the past few days but said nothing else.
“Just “oh”? That’s all you have to say?” You stared at him.
He smiled at you, taking your hand. He pressed them to his mouth. Your shoulders dropped. “I can go buy condoms.” His thumbs worked slow circles into your palms. “Or… we could just see what happens.”
“What about our plan?” The five-year one. Baby-making wasn’t a part of that for another year.
He laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re really bad at planning shit, baby.”
You couldn’t help it as your lips ticked upward. It was true. You and Joel didn’t plan things. They just happened. The five-year plan the two of you started was your biggest attempt thus far and here you were, less than 2 months later talking about deviating, or maybe you’d already ruined it.
You let the thoughts of another kid wash over your mind. Pregnancy hadn’t been this wonderful, carefree experience for you, but it hadn’t been all that bad either. You decided not to dwell on the 36 hour labor experience. Sweet baby snuggles, late night feedings, smiles, first steps, temper tantrums, and I love yous all drifted through your mind. You weren’t sure if you were ready for it all right now, but you could be if you had to. Lord knows you weren’t ready the first time.
Releasing a deep breath, you nodded. “Okay, let’s just see what happens.”
Joel grinned. He kissed you, hands wandering over the skin your bathing suit didn’t cover. “Now let’s get you onto the beach.”
~
You didn’t get pregnant on your honeymoon. The relief you thought you’d feel upon seeing the negative test was replaced with disappointment. You tossed the test into the trash can.
Walking out of the bathroom, your eyes landed on Joel, reading in bed. You cocked your head to the side. He wasn’t a reader like you, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to read about woodworking techniques or the history of construction. Boring topics to you, but he could and had gone on for hours about both. You enjoyed watching the way his eyes lit up when he started on the topic, but the book he currently held was one of yours.
“Watcha got there?” You smiled but you felt its lack. It pulled at your face awkwardly.
Joel’s eyes darted up over the book, an eyebrow raised. “This is pure filth, darling.”
You laughed, straddling his abdomen. “Where do you think I learned all my tricks?” You took the book from him, checking the cover. “This is nothing, baby.”
“And here I took you for an academic, readin all the time. Is our whole relationship a lie?” He grinned, hands settling on your bare thighs.
“Yes, I’ve just been scamming you so I have a place to store my many filthy books.” You winked.
He chuckled, pulling your palm to his lips. He always did that to soothe you. Were you that readable?
“Whatcha thinking about?”
Guess the answer was yes. “Nothing, it’s nothing.” You shook your head.
His brow furrowed. “Baby…”
You shrugged, splaying your palms on his chest. His fingers trailed over your knee and up your thigh. You showed tremendous interest in the logo on his shirt, biting your lip. You felt the pressure behind your eyes. “It’s just…” You sighed. “The pregnancy test was negative and it’s stupid.” Moisture pressed to surface level. You wiped it away. “I mean, I thought I would be relieved, and now I’m crying.” You wiped more tears away with a small laugh.
Joel continued to rub your thighs. His brown eyes met yours. “I think I’m a little disappointed too.”
You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in your chest. The skin around Joel’s eyes crinkled, his dimple popping out. You leaned down, touching your forehead to his. “So that means…”
“Fuck the five-year plan.” Joel grinned.
You repeated it back and pressed your lips to his.
You threw out your birth control the next morning.
~
You’d heard about women tracking their cycles and taking ovulation tests and postponing sex until ovulation, but all of that sounded a bit overwhelming. You’d conceived Asher while taking birth control religiously. You thought it would just happen.
But three months and 4 negative pregnancy tests later, you found yourself staring at the ovulation kits. Did you go with the cheapest option? How many did you buy? Before going on birth control, you’d been very aware of when you were ovulating and since coming off it, you were fairly certain of when you were as your sex drive kicked up roughly every four weeks.
“Go with the brand in the blue box.”
You turned around. Marcia Crawly, a mom from Sarah’s soccer team, smiled at you. You were pretty sure she was on the PTO as well.
“Oh, thanks,” You forced a smile.
You grabbed the recommended box, cheeks heating up. This shouldn’t be embarrassing. You were a grown married woman with children.
“No problem. You and Joel are trying?”
Oh lord, not grocery store small talk in the family planning aisle. “Uh… yeah.” You tossed the box into your cart. Marcia didn’t seem like the kind to spread the word, but you didn’t know her that well.
“If you want any tips, just reach out. I know all the things to do.” She smiled.
You thought of Marcia's 4 children all born within 24-28 months of one another. She’d mentioned that fact several times in passing as if it was some kind of accomplishment. It never occurred to you until now that perhaps she’d meticulously planned it that way.
“Um… yeah, sure. I will.” You wouldn’t.
“See you at the soccer game this weekend.” She waved. “And good luck.” Marcia winked at you before continuing on her own.
Joel was working in the garage when you got home. Sarah had asked for a bookshelf “all for herself” for her birthday. In the summer boom of work, Joel hadn’t been able to start on it until tonight. Sarah’s birthday was a week ago. You knew he felt bad, but there were other gifts to unwrap, and Sarah got to stay up late that night helping Joel design it. You were pretty sure it was twice the undertaking Joel originally planned.
With the groceries put away, you went to investigate the lamplight from Sarah’s room. You noticed it when you got home. Her door was cracked. You tapped on it before entering. Sarah peeked up over the cover of her book. You smiled. “It’s past your bedtime, Sarah Joy.”
“Dad said I could read.”
You glanced down at your watch, soft laughter contained. “It’s 10:30.” You laid down next to her pulling her into your side. “Watcha reading?”
Sarah cuddled into you. “Box car children- Haunted Cabin Mystery.”
“Is it any good?”
Sarah nodded. “Not as good as the original series.”
“Well, nothing can beat the original series.
You took an extra minute to hold her. She was getting so big. You didn’t know how long she would continue to let you hold her like this.
Sarah nodded, pressing her back into you as she continued to read. “15 more minutes. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Goodnight, kiddo. I love you.” You kissed her cheek and tickled her sides.
Sarah’s laughing squeal filled the room. “Mama!”
You laughed. “Sarah!”
“Okay, okay!” She struggled to catch her breath and you relented. Sarah kissed your cheek. “Goodnight. I love you.”
You crawled out of the bed laughter still in your movements. “15 minutes.” You reminded
“I know.”
You took a mental picture of Sarah, freshly 10 years old snuggled in bed with a book, and filed it away.
You peeked into Asher’s room. He slept curled up over a pillow, just like Joel did when he fell asleep before you made it to bed. You tiptoed in, pushing back his sweat-damp curls. He ran hot when he slept. Something he also got from his daddy. Pressing your lips to his forehead, you pulled the covers down to keep him cool.
Opening the fridge, you grabbed a drink before joining Joel in the garage. He shot a smile your way as he marked measurements onto the boards, but said nothing. You returned his smile. You forwent the stool, opting to sit directly on the workbench. The condensation from the bottle was slick in your hands from the late July heat.
You swung your feet back and forth noticing the absence of the radio tonight. The cicadas and crickets chirped in harmony. The quick buzz of the table saw joined them as Joel made a single precise cut. He looked hot with the pencil behind his ear.
“You’re gonna get sawdust all over your shorts.”
He walked over leaning against the workbench. He smelled like pine and dirt. Your favorite. You couldn’t help it as you leaned toward him.
“Guess you’ll have to clean me off then.” You winked sipping on your drink.
Joel eyed the bottle in your hand. You’d pretty much stopped drinking since the two of you decided to have another baby.
“Somethin happen at the grocery store?” Joel reached behind you, grabbing his drink. He rested his other hand on your thigh.
“I ran into Marcia Crawly as I was getting ovulation tests. She offered to give me all the tips and tricks if I needed them.”
Joel paused, bottle mid-air. His face read somewhere between amusement and concern as he swallowed his beer. “The whole PTO gonna know now?”
“Doesn’t seem the type, but I guess we’ll find out.” You shrugged.
“So what’s buggin you?” His hand crawling up your thigh.
You rested your forehead against his running a hand through his curls. He leaned into your touch further. “I’m neglecting my wifely duties. Your hair is getting long.”
His eyebrows raised expectantly. You couldn’t deflect with him.
“I just don’t like other people up in our business,” you said. He tilted his head, kissing the palm on his cheek. “Especially people we’re not really friends with.”
“Me either.” Joel moved between your legs. Easing his hands on either side of your thighs.
You rested your chin on top of his head as the two of you enjoyed the summer night noises. It wasn’t silent by any means, but it felt peaceful.
“Sarah is still up reading. I told her 15 minutes.”
Joel smiled. “Think she’ll remember?”
“Fuck no,” You said. Joel laughed. “But if Sarah staying up late to read is our biggest issue, I’m not worried.”
“Until she starts stealing filthy books from your shelf.”
You laughed, head tossing back. Joel kissed your neck. “Get back to work. I came out here to watch my hot carpenter husband do carpenter things.”
Joel smiled, giving you a solid kiss before moving back to his project. You picked up his journal. You’d given him a new one, much like the original, for his birthday after he filled all the pages in the first one.
“This is quite the bookshelf.”
“She wants fairies on it. Not sure how I’m going to do that yet, but I’ll figure it out.”
“They don’t cover that in your books?”
“They cover it in yours?” Joel grinned.
You flipped him off.
~
You laid out across your bed still in your work clothes. Your abdomen cramped as you waited for the ibuprofen to kick in. Tears streamed into your ears, and for once it wasn’t your period that brought on the tears.
Work was shit. The company you worked for switched hands last year. Ever since, you hadn’t enjoyed work. The co-workers you were close to slowly quit one by one and your boss was an overbearing, asshole.
You heard the click of the bedroom door. The bed dipped beside you. His warm, calloused hand covered yours. His lips touched your forehead. You hummed softly.
“Rough day?”
“Carl’s an ass.”
His finger traced over your face and then he noticed the tears running between your eyes and ears. “Shit, baby.”
“Sorry.” You wiped at your tears, finally opening your eyes.
“Don’t apologize…”
“I don’t know how much longer I can keep working there.”
“Then don’t.”
“What?”
“You’re already keepin the books. Tommy and I were talking about hiring a couple more people. Business is good. We’re filling up through the winter. That’s never happened before.”
It was all a part of the five-year plan. Miller Construction, LLC was growing. What used to be just Joel and Tommy had grown to a crew of 5. You’d been doing the books for a couple of years now. The longer-term plan was for you to quit your job and run the admin side of things full-time. You would be able to stay home with the kids so daycare wouldn’t be needed. There were plans for office space, two crews, all a part of the 5-year plan. You quitting your job was still 2 ½ years away.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“You’re thinking about that damn timeline.”
“So? We made that plan for a reason.”
“And we said fuck it, did we not?”
“Joel this isn’t deciding to have a baby a year earlier.”
“Darlin, you’re miserable.”
“Even if it all worked out, what about health insurance? We’re trying to have a baby. I don’t think we want to get the uninsured medical bill for childbirth.” Health insurance was the main reason you stayed at this job. Your 30 hours a week, enough to qualify for benefits, turned into 40 more often than not.
“You don’t have to work to get insurance.”
“Joel.”
“Miller Construction can offer you great benefits.” He kissed your neck.
“Oh? Like what?” You smiled. He was distracting you and you let him.
“Flexible schedule, bring your kids to work.” His lips trailed lower. “Private meetings with the boss.” His breath was hot in your ear.
You hummed soaking in the feeling of the idea until reality crashed back down. “I can’t quit my job so we can have a midday rendezvous.”
“I want you to quit so you’ll be okay.” He took your hands in his, kissing them. “We need you to be okay, baby.”
You stared up at him, relishing the warmth of his hands. “You’re sure?”
“I’ll call Carl up myself right now. Tell him you’re done. You can sleep in tomorrow.”
You thought about it, making the decision quicker than you wanted to admit. “Fuck the five-year plan I guess.” You laughed, feeling like a weight was lifted off your chest.
Joel chuckled, pressing his lips to yours.
~
On the first day of November, you woke up feeling nauseous. Your heart lept at the thought that this was it. You managed to wait until the kids were asleep that night, your anticipation growing with the mild heartburn you felt throughout the day.
No second line. In fact, the test strip was so fucking white you couldn’t imagine a faint line. You threw it in the trash can, fighting the urge to scream.
You turned on the shower and let the hot water wash it away.
Joel had just turned out his lamp as you crawled into bed without a word. The sheets felt cool against your skin. He kissed your head before turning on his back.
You faced Joel, laying on your side. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“What’s wrong?” You laid a hand on his chest. The only time Joel slept on his back was when he fell asleep on the couch, you insisted on cuddling a certain way, or he was stressed.
He covered your hand with his. “Nothing babe, just work stuff.”
“Something that’s gonna affect the books?”
He looked at you with the one eye that faced you. “What happened to no work talk in the bedroom?”
“Well, you’re clearly stressed in our bedroom.”
Joel rolled over kissing you softly. “Better now.”
“You cheeseball.”
Joel chuckled. He kissed your forehead. “Now it’s your turn.”
You furrowed your brow.
“I can hear your thoughts, Darlin.”
“You cannot.”
He touched his head to yours, the moonlight reflecting in his big brown eyes. “They’re racing faster than NASCAR.”
You sighed. “I thought I was pregnant. I’m not. Must’ve eaten too much damn Halloween candy last night.”
Joel managed a soft smile. His hand threaded through your hair. “I’d tell you not to overthink it, but we both know that’s not possible.”
“Do you think there’s something wrong?” You bit your lip.
“It hasn’t been that long, baby.” You leaned into his touch.
“I thought it would just happen, you know.” You wanted to swear as the tears started.
Joel pulled you into his arms. “I think I did too. I mean… I’m kinda 2 for 2 in that department.”
You managed a laugh and he kissed your head.
“I love you,” He said.
“I love you too.”
~
The holidays came and went in a blur. Thanksgiving with Tommy and your mom. Your mother had warmed up to Joel over the years. So much so, she’d let him handle the turkey. He’d been so excited. Christmas morning was just the four of you. A new bike for Sarah and a train set for Asher. New Year's Eve at some big fancy house hosted by Joel’s biggest client just the two of you. In the rush of the holidays, the two of you realized it was your first date night in two months. Joel had fucked you in one of the many bathrooms, the idea of baby making the farthest thing from either of your minds for the first time in a long time.
It was the third week of January before you realized your period was late. You reeled your mind for the last time you’d had it. Did you miss December too? Your heart picked up. You had.
You glanced in the living room. Sarah was reading and Asher playing with his trains on the floor. You took the steps two at a time quickly locking the door. This had to be it. There was no way it wasn’t.
You watched the test process, confused when the second line never appeared. The test must have been bad. You grabbed two more from your drawer. The second came up negative as did the third. You just stared at them lined up on the bathroom counter. The acceptance hit you like a semi-truck, the wind knocked from your lungs.
You swiped the tests into the trash can. Angry hot tears streamed from your eyes. Your bedroom door slammed behind you and you fell into the comforter as you let the sobs wrack your body.
You didn’t know how long you’d been in bed when the door creaked open. You glanced up, eyes heavy expecting to see Sarah or Asher. Joel’s frame filled the door making you realize how long you’d actually been in bed. “Sarah said she heard the door slam a couple hours ago.”
“Shit.” You groaned. There was an ache at the base of your skull. You buried your head into the comforter.
Joel sat on the bed, his hand on your back. “Everything okay?”
“Peachy.”
“Darlin…”
You sighed, rubbing your head as you rolled to your back. You knew if you opened your eyes, the headache would get worse. “What else, Joel? I thought for sure I was pregnant. New flash, I’m not.”
Silence ensued. You were too preoccupied trying to rub your headache away. The bed beside you lifted. Joel huffed shuffling out of the room. You sat up. Your brain felt like it was going to implode. Your sinuses were stuffy from crying. You couldn’t think straight.
Joel barged back in, garbage bag in hand. He yanked open the top dresser drawer where you kept the pregnancy and ovulation tests. “What are you doing?”
“Throwing this shit out. We’re done.”
“Done? What are you talking about?” You were worried you might be getting a migraine as you rubbed your temples.
“This whole cycle tracking and taking tests every month. We need a break.” He shoved the tests into the garbage bag.
“Joel.”
“It’s tearing you apart!” He turned around. Your vision tunneled to his eyes. Tears pooled in them. “It’s tearing me apart.”
He dropped the garbage bag and climbed into the bed. His hands felt cool against your hot skin. “We need a break… please.” His voice broke.
“Okay.” You whispered.
You climbed into his lap. He kissed your head and you nuzzled into his neck. A few of his tears dropped onto your cheek as yours slid down his neck. He held you like that until you fell asleep.
~
You didn’t tell Joel you bought the pregnancy test. A part of you felt bad not telling him, but if it was negative, he’d see it in your face. He’d know what was going on without a word.
You’d only taken one other pregnancy test since you and Joel hit pause on trying last year, and that was at your annual physical. You’d expected the negative result and when the doctor told you, you felt okay.
You two still talked about having another child. Both of you wanted it, but the active trying was paused. You agreed your family felt incomplete. You discussed going to see a doctor just to make sure everything was okay, but that still felt overwhelming.
For the most part, you’d been able to unweave the constant baby think from your brain. Life felt like it was flying by at breakneck speed. You celebrated Asher’s 5th birthday in March. Sarah’s spring soccer season was well underway. There was talk that they could make it to states this year, and Sarah had been named captain. Asher started t-ball. Between the two kids’ sports, most of your weekends were full. Business was booming for Miller Construction. So much so that you were in the market for an assistant, and You and Joel celebrated your 2nd wedding anniversary earlier this month.
Your period was almost 2 weeks late. You tried not to overthink it. It wouldn’t be the first time, but the nausea had hit three days in a row now. The first day you could write it off. The kids had caught a stomach bug last week. The second day you tried to let it go, and then this morning you actually threw up, twice, and then recovered. It brought you back to when you were pregnant with Asher.
You paced the bathroom wringing your hands as you watched the second hand on your watch tick in two slow circles. You refused to look before it was time. Your mind raced. You flipped between sure and doubt.
Two minutes. You steadied your breath as you prepared to look. No matter what it said, you would be okay… you hoped.
The test lay on the bathroom counter. Two lines, clear as day, stared back at you. There was no doubting it. Shock settled in your bones. “Joel…” He was downstairs with the kids. “Joel!” Your voice steadily rose.
About the third time, his heavy footsteps rang through the house as he took the steps two at a time. He burst into the bathroom. “What’s wrong?” Panic raged wild in his eyes. His chest heaved
You looked up at him, tears brewing in your eyes, hand over your mouth.
“Darlin, what is it?” He walked over to you. You pointed to the counter.
He looked over, brow furrowing. Then he saw it. The test sitting there. He didn’t even have to look at the results to know what it said. His head whipped around. “You’re?”
You nodded still suspended in disbelief. He laughed, picking you up and spinning you around in the already tight space. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, laughter mingling with his.
~
Emma Grace entered the world on December 13th at 12:03 am with much more urgency than her older brother. Joel narrowly avoided catching her as the doctor arrived no more than 30 seconds before she was born.
Joel settled next to you, his arm around your shoulders. Emma stared up at the two of you. He brushed his finger against her cheek. She felt so small in your arms, and compared to her older brother, she was, weighing in at 2 pounds lighter.
“She was born after midnight?”
Joel nodded and the tears welled in your eyes. “She has my dad’s birthday.”
Joel kissed your head and then hers. You leaned into him. Staring down at your baby girl, you felt it in your souls. Your family was complete.
#joel miller#pedro pascal#the last of us#tlou#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#build you the world
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You | One
masterlist.exe
Summary: Jeongguk was supposed to be like the rest, easily hackable with a selection of dirty little secrets he'd like to keep hidden from the rest of the world: the typical weird kinks, fetishes, scams, evasion of taxes, lying on academic records. However, when you dig deeper it turns out that Jeongguk's secrets run, much, much deeper.
Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader | Slight!Taehyung x reader
Genre: Smut, Psychological, Angst, Romance (Unhealthy and Obsessive on both ends)
Tags and Notes: college setting, psychotic reader, computer science majors, lots of hacking, BREAKING THE FOURTH WALL, read at your own discretion, jk and reader are both fucking nut jobs, reply to be added to taglist
WC: 4.6k
chap1_jk970.txt | chap2_trojan.exe
Three weeks prior to Park Soojin’s death.
Under the bright street lamps of the fraternity housing section on campus, half a dozen cars sat clustered in the road. Knots of teenagers ran in and out of the well-known fraternity, some sat drinking and smoking on the hoods of their cars. Others laughed, argued, and stared at the colossus double-door where two frat brothers played security, awaiting anyone who wanted permission to enter.
The pounding bass beat of rap music from inside thudded into the cold night air from the various open windows. It reverberated in your chest with each step.
You zipped past at least a dozen cars, all on display as a flaunt of their social class; a Mustang GT convertible with twenty-inch chrome rims; Porsche Macan EV with a custom paint-job; Dad’s Ferrari. All indicators of economic class, an invisible glue that bounded socialites like these.
Undoubtedly, the average group of typical scumbags whose parents paid their way into an acceptance letter.
A buzz from the rear pocket of your cargos directed your attention elsewhere. You dug into the pocket and pulled out your pinging phone, scanning the street for an abandoned car until your eyes reached a lonely red McLaren. With another double-take and a clear coast, you plopped on the hood of a car that could very well cover all of your student loans and unlocked your phone.
The Linux shell you’re running through the iSH Project pings the coordinates you decrypted from Jeongguk’s cellphone earlier today.
G77; use coordinate system 1
YGeoCode.getMap {“GeoID” : “J970 CELL”
“GeoPoint” : { “Lat” : 37.56829”
“Lon”:126.9977”
“success” : 1}, 1);
You drop the hand holding the device to the top of your thighs, while your shoulders slump downward, relieving tension you weren’t aware was even building.
It’s a 1:1 ratio— you’ve got him.
“Hey, sweetheart, you sure you didn’t put a dent in my car?” An unfamiliar voice quips from somewhere behind you.
Shit.
Your fingers hurriedly type in the exit command and kill the program. If on the off-chance you did just dent a $300,000 car, the last thing you needed was explaining why you have someone’s coordinates on display.
You look over your shoulder and you’re met with a brown head of curls. The guy, who looks to be no more than your age, quirks a brow and plops onto the empty spot beside you. The car bounces and you look down at the hood of the car where Curly essentially just jumped onto, did he just dent his own car?
“Don’t worry darlin’,” Curls smirks, reaching to the side of his head and pulling out a single cigarette which you can only guess was hidden in the shell of his ear. “Not my car, was just messin’ with you.”
He lights the cigarette and places it between his lips, breathing the smoke in. When his chest stops rising, he takes the stick between his fingers and ushers it toward you, “Want some?”
You shake your head and continue watching as he shrugs and places it in the corner of his mouth, letting it rest there without the need of his fingers for support.
You turn your head away from the stranger and back to the street. The majority of the crowd that was present minutes ago made their way into the fraternity, leaving a barren road and the heavy smoke of burning herbs.
“What’re you doin’ at a party like this anyways?”
You scuff and face Curly once again, mildly offended at the question. Curly’s now moved both of his arms behind him and is using them as support as he leans backward on the car. His lip tugs upwards when he sees whatever expression riddles your face.
“What is that supposed-“
He pushes himself off his hands and raises both hands before his chest, shaking them in defense, “You’re wearing cargos and a hoodie with Doc’s in eighty-degree weather for fucks-sake.” He gestures to your outfit with one hand. “You do know what kind of assholes are in there, don’t you?”
You’re more than aware of what kind of misogynistic animals reside in that house. In fact, you know everything about every single one of them— their home addresses, hospital records, GPAs, transcripts, academic records, bank account numbers, transactions, who they sent their last text message to, to what condom sizes they like to buy at 7-Eleven even though the latex is probably way too big.
Instead of letting curly know you’ve committed about fifty offenses and earned yourself a jail sentence of sixty years in prison, you opt for a simple, “So?”
Curly inches forward, face contorting in confusion as he gestures to the house and then back to you, “So? You think they’re just gonna let you walk right in wearin’ your favorite boot camp outfit?”
Well, you weren’t exactly planning on taking the main entrance. Did you mention you found the blueprints a week ago?
“You got a secret crush or somethin’?” Curly drops his hands and digs his elbow in your rib, wiggling his thick brows.
You use your arm to push him in the opposite direction, denying his allegations. Curly, however, has other plans, continuing to playfully elbow your rib while whispering a symphony of various ‘Ooohs’ and ‘La-la-la’s’.
Your phone ping’s once again and you silently curse, the ping serving as a signal that Jeongguk’s moved over ten feet from the previously registered location. Jeongguk could very well be making his way back into his room all while you still haven’t even made it onto the front lawn.
Curly halts, dropping his elbow and peering down at your phone. You side-eye the stranger and flip your phone so the screen faces the ground. His eyebrows scrunch and his mouth goes agape, a sudden realization dawns on his face.
He recognizes the ping.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Not only has Curly wasted almost fifteen minutes of your time, but the fucker knows how to code. Not any code, though, he recognizes illegal code.
Your phone pings again and you resist the itching urge to chuck the device onto the ground and jump off the car to run home.
Curls scoots closer to you until his thigh is pressed against yours. Your eyes remain locked on the phone, watching your knuckles turn white around the device. You hold your breath till your throat begins to constrict, begging for air. What are you supposed to do? What if he knows Jeongguk?
“Who’re you tracking?” Curly whispers, low enough that you barely pick up on his words.
You can’t rat yourself out. No chance in hell are you telling him you’re tracking Jeon Jeongguk’s fucking cellphone.
You shakily exhale and push yourself off the McLaren, shoving your phone into your pocket, ignoring the several new pings reverberating through the air. “I- listen.” You raise your hand to rub your face, “Can you like, keep this between us?” You use your pointer finger to swing back and forth between the both of you.
Curly groans. He grabs the butt of the cigarette and stands up. He drops the butt onto the floor and uses his boot to crush the remains into the pavement. “Listen sunshine, clearly we’re both up to no good. N’ if it makes you feel better,” he digs into the pocket of his trousers and pulls out his own phone.
The screen lights, illuminating Curly’s face with white. You notice the mole on the tip of his nose, his one mono-lid, and the way he’s using his teeth to scrape at his bottom lip. The white cast turns a darker shade and he faces the screen to you, revealing a nearly identical iSH Project program running.
He’s tracking someone too.
“If you don’t wanna tell me who you’re stalkin’ then, fine by me. But, let’s help each other out, yeah?” He swings his arm around your shoulder, spinning you to face the house. He points to the bushes on the rear of the home, “We get in n’ split. You do your thing n’ I do mine. N’ if we coincidentally happen to meet each other inside, we have a good fuckin’ time. How bout’ that?”
He uses the hand that’s hung around your shoulder to push your face to your left, leaving you only a few inches away from the tip of his nose. Your eyes gaze at his, meeting an eerie black, the complete opposite of the light brown you took notice of earlier.
Curly smirks and leans in, pecking your forehead, leaving a glossy cast of his lips dead center. When he moves his face away, he uses his free hand to poke at the tip of your nose, “That was for good luck, now c’mon we have assholes to screw over.”
About twenty-five minutes and a ridiculous amount of bickering later, you’ve convinced Taehyung— the name Curly told you right after you confessed you had the blueprints of the home, not forgetting to add that you’re “the best little hacker he’s ever met”— to take the emergency ladder instead of scurrying through the bushes and taking the back door.
“I still think this is a shit idea, just wanna let you know,” Taehyung half-whispers, holding onto a piece of your hoodie as you lead the way through the bushes.
“Noted. Still don’t care.” You mumble, picking up the pace to spite the coder.
When your hoodie falls flat onto your back and a groan erupts from behind you, your chest swells with triumph. Smokers aren’t good runners after all.
“Hey,” Taehyung calls from behind you, “don’t be an ass, we’re on the same team here.”
We. Plural.
A tree branch cracks as Taehyung stomps over it, seconds later, your hoodie is being latched to once again and a few colorful words flutter out of the former’s mouth. Lovely.
You continue pathing through the tall shrub, much to your and Taehyung’s luck, the streets were clear as day when you made your big sprint— more of a light jog for Taehyung really— to the side of the frat.
You’d studied the blueprints in and out. Each room, bathroom, kitchen (yes, there’s more than one), and even the home gym locations are perfectly engraved into the crevices of your brain.
The emergency ladder, which according to public records was installed three weeks after the Bang Fraternities’ initial move-in, was connected to the balcony and joined the room of Park Jimin. Across the hall, two doors to the right is Jeongguk’s room. That’s your target.
And the sole reason you’d spent twenty minutes trying to convince Taehyung to take the ladder. Easier access meant less of a possibility of running into people and worse of all, Jeongguk himself.
The ladder’s three-fourths of the way to the back of the house. Most likely rolled up to prevent intruders from using it to access the house without permission. Of course, you’d thought of that too and looked into the company that installs emergency ladders in the vicinity.
You ran the password cracker you’d spent all summer coding, found the sudo root password, and boom, access to all of their clientele files. Low and behold, your university had a file and in it was the fraternities. A little Googling later, you found the exact model of the ladder they used and discovered it had a small lever that let it fall down without a key or having to be at the top to press its emergency button.
The end of the shrubs was approaching, your queue to crawl through the bush and into the open space. You halt and point to a small opening through the bushes, large enough for you and Taehyung to crawl through without rustling the shrub more than necessary and garnering any unwarranted attention.
“Once we get through here,” you point to the opening, making sure to turn around and get confirmation from Taehyung that he understood. When he nods, you continue, “I’ll pull a lever and we climb up. I’ll check if Jimin’s in the room, if not, you climb. Also, do not say anything, they probably have all of the windows open.”
You slide through first, looking back and forth to ensure no drunk college students made their way out of the home and to the sides. With the hand on the other side of the brush, you shoot a thumbs up and quickly book it to the ladder.
The ladder is in fact rolled up, and much higher than you expected it to be. You scan the steps trying to pinpoint the step with a tiny lever on the side of it. When your eyes lock onto it, you flip the lever upwards, and the ladder automatically clasps an inch above the soil.
The rusting of bushes gives you the go-to climb upwards. You sprint up the ladder and the ladder dips a little further once you’ve reached the top.
You peer over the stone balcony, and much to your surprise, Park Jimin’s glass doors are wide open. The sway of his white curtains makes an appearance every few seconds.
Without much thought, you grip the ends of the balcony and use all of your forearm strength to hoist yourself over the edge. You land on your heels and peer over the glass door to reveal a dark room. Quickly, you scan the bed, bathroom, and desk— all empty. What idiot leaves his balcony door wide open during a party? Jimin, apparently.
“Jesus fuckin’ christ,” Taehyung moans as he reaches the top of the ladder. “Lil help here, please.”
You turn to him and he extends his hand to you. Lazy shit. You groan and grab his one hand with both of yours, steady your weight onto your heels and drive backward, pushing him forward until he falls over and lands flat on the ground.
“Very graceful,” you comment, and Taehyung releases a huff in response.
After what appeared to be shame-riddling his face, Taehyung stands up straight and arches his back backward, cracking his spine in the process, “Holy hell that hurt.”
“My bad.”
Taehyung grins and raises a brow, “Worried bout’ me darling?”
You roll your eyes and turn toward the bedroom, inviting yourself in. You rush toward Jimin’s bed and dishevel the perfectly made bedsheets that a maid undoubtedly made this morning. You then turn back to Taehyung who stands with furrowed brows and run your fingers through his curls, loosening them.
He tilts his head and you sigh, “We need to make it look like we just made out.”
Taehyung opens his mouth and nods his head, “Gotcha.”
You and Taehyung stare at one another. Spit builds in your mouth and you awkwardly swallow the build-up. After a few seconds, you nod and turn your head toward the door.
“Well we should-“
“Who’re you tracking?” Taehyung asks.
“I thought we agreed-“
“I’m here for Min Yoongi. He owes me six grand in narcotics. Stole my shit and sold it somewhere on the market, gonna get into his laptop and get my money back.”
You blink at him and question the sincerity in his words. Does he have any reason to lie to you? What kind of benefit would he get from lying to you? Is Taehyung even his real name?
You lift your hand and rub the back of your neck. Hesitatingly you bite at your lip and nod slowly. He’s either confident as hell or an incredible liar. Fuck it, what wrong could it do?
“Jeon Jeongguk. I’m about ninety percent sure his girlfriend runs a Red Room on the dark web, and before you laugh at me I want to let you know the fucker completely encrypted a section of his computer. I can’t access any of her information without whatever the hell Jeongguk has listed in a ‘RR Soo’ folder on his computer.”
As much as you expected Taehyung to laugh in your face, his eyebrows lightly rise and he nods understandingly as if he’s totally cool with whatever the fuck you have planned, “Cool shit detective, good luck.”
You swallow, “You’re not gonna?”
“Laugh? Nah. We’re both bout’ to commit an offense, I have my reasons and so do you. What’s laughin’ gonna do?”
Taehyung doesn’t wait for your response, instead, he digs into his trousers and pulls out a cigarette box. His slender fingers flip the green top, revealing an array of sticks, he pulls one out and tilts the box to you, much like he did before with the single cigarette.
You shake your head at the request and he shrugs, shoving the box back into his pocket.
Taehyung lights the cigarette and lifts his head, averting his gaze to you. He winks and walks directly past you, leaving only the click of the door as a reminder of his presence.
Holy hell.
You rub at your palms, feeling the moistness that accumulated. When did it get so fucking hot? With a deep sigh, you shake your hands and rub them against the roughness of your cargos.
It was now or never. Your phone hadn’t pinged in about ten minutes meaning Jeongguk had to still be somewhere downstairs.
You turn toward the door and walk to it, pressing your hand on the knob and rotating it. When it clicks, you swing the door open and make your exit.
The smell of burning weed intoxicates you, filling the air with a cloud of thick smoke. With a quick glance in both directions, you notice the upstairs is relatively empty. In fact, there was no one in the hallway. Not even a trace of Taehyung, who left moments ago.
The boom of the speakers that were planted through the house and the screams of excited men and even more excited girls vibrated everywhere. There must be at least a hundred people downstairs.
You tug your hood over your head and avoid contact.
Across the hall and two to the right.
Jeongguk’s door was hard to miss, a large white board nailed to the center of the door with ‘BAD BUNNY JK’ written in purple. Beside it was several much smaller doodles, all drawn on in different colors.
You inched forward and knocked twice.
Nothing.
You reached down, grabbing the knob to twist it, but, it wouldn’t budge. Fucker locks his door, of course, he does.
You groan and bend down to eye level with the knob, you reach into a lower pocket of your cargos and dig out a lock-pin. You jam the metal into the door and twist until the lock clicks, unlocking the door.
You check over your shoulder and rise, bolting through the door and directly into the room, slamming the door behind you.
Jeongguk’s room, much to your surprise, is exactly how you imagined it’d to be. To your left is an unmade bed with black sheets and a matching pillow set, plus a few scattered plushies of various colors. Directly in front of you, a PC set up with two horizontal monitors and one vertical off to the side, the keyboard pulses with rainbow hues. Directly above the PC are several posters, Metallica and ACDC to name a few.
In the corner, an orange electric guitar rests on a stand, several doodles are drawn onto its surface. To the right, is a closet with closed sliding doors and a mirror hanging from the top.
It’s definitely cleaner than you expected.
You glance at the corners of his room, of which all are empty. Okay, good, he has no cameras. At least, none that you can see.
With a deep breath and a hammering chest, you take a step toward the desk. Roughly, you dig out the single USB flash drive you’ve placed in the bottom pocket of your cargos and slide out its metal component.
When you’ve reached Jeongguk’s desk, you tap on the space bar of his keyboard and watch the desktop come to life. A photograph of Jeongguk and his girlfriend, Soojin, appears in front of you, in the photo, Soojin smiles as Jeongguk kisses her cheek. How romantic.
You resist an urge to roll your eyes.
In the center of the desktop Jeongguk’s ‘BB BUNNY JK’ username is displayed in bold letters and under it is an empty white text box awaiting the correct password input to allow access to the PC.
You hacked Jeongguk two weeks ago.
His password, ‘soosoo970’ is a play-on-words of the nickname he uses for his girlfriend. Which is tremendously more idiotic than you could’ve ever imagined. Seriously, what kind of software engineering student uses the nickname he gives his girlfriend alongside the year he was born as his password?
You type in the password, press enter and the page unlocks itself. Without wasting any more time—thank you, Taehyung— you open the terminal and shove your USB drive into the computer.
You open the batch file you saved on the drive and run the script. After the script successfully runs, it allows you to automate tasks and export Jeongguk’s data into text files, granting you complete access to all of his desktop passwords while not having to be on it directly.
Using your Apple Watch’s clock, you count ten seconds until the script finishes running and lets you download the batch file. After opening the file, you see everything.
And no, Soojin doesn’t run a Red Room. From what you understand, the girl can’t even fucking run the ‘Hello World’ command if her life depended on it. And yes, you did lie to Taehyung.
Initially, you’d taken a certain interest in Park Jimin. He was in nearly all of your classes: confident, outspoken, and eerily kind. The kind that bugs you because for some odd reason it just doesn’t feel right.
After the third week and an itch you couldn’t simply squash, you hacked into Jimin’s computer, then his cellphone, and his entire life. Turns out he wasn’t as irregular as you thought, sure, he watched anal porn more than most dudes his age but, other than that, his record was clean.
Then, you hacked the rest of his fraternity. Call it simple-minded curiosity, or whatever. But, you wanted to know what type of people Jimin was okay with associating himself with.
Sure, nearly all of them were your typically coke-addicted, old-school wealth, types of douchebags. But, they didn’t have any hidden files, encrypted programs, or scripts, nothing that screamed ‘Hey look, I’m totally doing something I shouldn’t!’.
Jeongguk, unlike the rest of his fraternity, took an extra precaution in ensuring his information stays private. Privacy, like complete encryption from all proxies except the root IP typically only happens because of a single reason— Jeongguk’s hiding something.
And once you get home and decrypt all of his passwords and to what programs and sites they belong, you’ll know exactly what it is he’s hiding.
You kill the batch file, copy it onto your drive, and clear the terminal.
After shutting down the PC, you shove the USB drive back into its original pocket and proceed toward the direction of the door.
Whatever Jeongguk hid on that PC will be yours by the end of tonight. Your chest swells with triumph as you lower your hand to twist the knob.
“Soo, chill, wait until we’re inside,” a voice groans from the opposite side of the door.
There’s a sound of keys clanking against one another, “Fucking hell, which one is it again?”
Your blood runs cold and your hand freezes on the knob, unable to move an inch.
Why didn’t your phone ping? You coded it to ping three times in a row if Jeongguk’s elevation level changed, which he very clearly did.
You’re fucked. You’re absolutely fucked. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Panic settles in and you begin to rapidly look around Jeongguk’s room to find somewhere you can hide. His bed had storage containers filling the space underneath it and there’s no way you’d have enough time to move them and make room for yourself. The space underneath his desk is too open, he’d notice you the second he walked in.
C’mon, c’mon.
You continue rapidly looking around until your eyes land on the closet. In a sprint, you rush toward the sliding doors and haul one of the doors to open. Thankfully, the space on the bottom has just enough room for you to squeeze into a ball and pray to who-fucking-ever Jeongguk doesn’t need a change of underwear tonight.
After you’ve nearly collided with every single piece of clothing in his office and settled into a ball on the floor, you usher the closet door closed and hold your breath.
No more than ten seconds later, you hear the door swing open and a pair of footsteps rush in.
“Baby, I’m tired.” You hear the female, who you presume to be Soojin, moan.
Your heart pounds against your chest and you try to exhale as quietly as possible. The sound of footsteps and a thud on a cushion muffles your irregular breathing.
From the corner of your eye, you notice a dim light peeking through a gap where the two closet doors are joined by bolts. You shuffle your way toward the gap, not because you’re a creep, but, because you need to get the fuck out of here.
You catch your breath as Soojin straddles Jeongguk, giggling as she pulls off his oversized black shirt, throwing it somewhere onto the ground. She kisses his neck, and chest, and eventually reaches the border of his joggers.
Jeongguk groans, gripping the back of Soojin’s hair and giving her a light tug, “Get on with it.”
His girlfriend giggles in response and lowers herself off of him and onto her knees on the floor. You try to look away, try to ignore the pulsing in your stomach, and look into the darkness of the closet. But, you can’t.
Your eyes are glued to the couple.
Soojin pulls down Jeongguk’s joggers, along with his underwear. You bite your lip and try to steady your heart, your feet have fallen asleep and the tingling sensation makes both of them go completely numb.
From your position, you’re unable to see Jeongguk’s lower torso, Soojin’s back obscures the view. But, as your eyes trail upwards from Soojin’s waist, you notice Jeongguk’s pecks, his prominent collarbones. The definition in his toned arms as he uses one hand to steady himself and the other to guide his girlfriend’s bobbing head.
“You’ve been naughty, haven’t you?” Jeongguk moans and you can’t resist the urge to look up at his face.
Soojin moans in response, choking in the process of Jeongguk shoving her mouth to the bottom of his cock.
At this point, you’ve unconsciously moved closer to the gap to get a closer look, most of your weight shifting to the tip of your feet. Your eyes settle on Jeongguk’s lip, the smirk that tugs upwards and then to his eyes.
When they meet, your hand flies to cover your mouth to suppress the yelp that’s forming in your throat.
His eyes are completely black, the normal doe shape they carry transformed into that of a feline cat— a predator stalking his prey.
Jeongguk’s staring directly at you.
#jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook au#jungkook yandere#jungkook fanfic#jungkook angst#jungkook bts#jungkook college#jungkook college au#stalker!jungkook#yandere!jungkook#stalker au#yandere au#stalker jungkook#jungkook smut#bts smut#jungkook x reader smut#stalker bts#yandere#bts thriller#yandere!bts#yandere!jungkook x reader#bts au#you jk
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🐓🤠Hangster Fic-on-Tumblr Recs🤠🐓
🐓🤠Hangster Goodies to Read! 🐓🤠
Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕
Tumblr Authors: allbark-no-bite, film-in-my-soul, green-socks, hangster-hangout, icemavs, natashatrace, norabrice1701, ravens-words, semperhuggs, tgmsunmontue, the-sun-and-the-sky.
(Use this post to let me know about your works, it’s easier for me to keep track!)
(Reminder to come here in case Our Beloved is Down.
*True Story of why I wanted to do this specific recs list*)
TGMSUNMONTUE (AO3 – SunMonTue)
Tgmsunmontue’s Masterlist, including:
Another Time ➡️ 14 Chapters | M | BodySwap | Jake wakes up in Rooster's body ~30 hours post-Mission and they have to deal with it. They're adults. Apparently.
Bird on a Wire ➡️ 3 Chapters | E | Meet-cute | Jake tries to make a good impression on one of the servers at a restaurant. Except he turns out to be the head chef. Who in turn tries make a good impression. Their families try and help.
He remembers ➡️ 1 Chapter | Bradley remembers key points in his life as he faces starting at the USNA. IceMav feels.
It's all academic darlin' ➡️ 9 Chapters | E | Academic Professor AU | Bradley is a professor but living his best well-adjusted life with IceMav parents. Jake is a pilot. Maverick tries (and fails) to play matchmaker, so he tries again.
Lonely Nights ➡️ 4 Chapters | E | Smut | Rooster really needs to get laid.
ICEMAVS (Ao3 – Sreshaw)
Avery’s Masterlist, including:
Planes, trains, and gay people ➡️ 3 Chapters | E | Planes, Trains, and Automobiles AU | Bradley just wanted to get home for Thanksgiving to see him mom and uncles. What he ended up with was three days with a hot stranger who happened to annoy the shit out of him.
Springsteen ➡️ 2 Chapters | M | High School | Bradley Bradshaw has to pick up and move from San Diego, California, with his not-dad Pete "Maverick" Mitchell to Corpus Christi, Texas. He's not upset about it, but he doesn't expect to fall hard for a boy he meets there.
Whiskey and Rye ➡️ 1 Chapter | E | Only One Bed | The Dagger Crew got turned into a real-deal instructor squadron after the mission. They get sent on missions and demos to teach new pilots how to do what they do. On this trip to Florida, the WSOs are staying with their pilots, but Jake and Bradley, since they are WSO-less, have to room together. And the hotel fucked up.
NORABRICE1701 (Ao3 – MidnightBlast)
Twist My Heart ➡️ 6 Chapters | Twister AU | E | The hope of anything with Jake is a fool’s hope. Bradley has understood that from the first minute Jake waltzed into the lab with his dazzlingly brilliant smile, sun-kissed skin, and grass-green eyes gleaming with dangerous red flags. Yet still Bradley let the man get under his skin, burrow in his chest, and take root in his heart.
GREEN-SOCKS (Ao3 – Aprilfoolish)
(Do You) Share My Affection ➡️ 1 Chapter | M | Bradley and Jake end up on a date with each other through an anonymous dating app (because they are just a little bit idiots about each other). The date is the wakeup call they needed.
RAVENS-WORDS (Ao3 – Ravens_Words)
been you all along ➡️ 5 Chapters | T | Kid Fic | Somehow, in a truly horrifying twist of fate, Bradley's mortal enemy became his daughter's favorite person. Or, Five times Jake was his daughter's favorite person, and the one time he was Bradley's too.
(🐈 Note: +1 on Ao3!)
THE-SUN-AND-THE-SKY
The Joke's On You ➡️ 1 Chapter | Fluff | In which Hangman makes a joke and Rooster takes it literally.
FILM-IN-MY-SOUL (Ao3 – ReformedTsundere)
Ficlet Bingo
Soulmates ➡️ 1 Chapter | T | The time between getting shot down and reuniting with Maverick, Rooster isn’t alone.
First Kiss ➡️ 1 Chapter | T | The night before the rest of Bradley’s life he gets pretty drunk and a little lucky.
Whump ➡️ 1 Chapter | T | Jake is hurt. But it’s alright. Bradley is there.
A/B/O ➡️ 1 Chapter | M | Between waves of Jake’s heat, he and Bradley have a domestic moment.
Epistolary ➡️ 1 Chapter | T | In a box, there lives two letters that the writers never want read.
NSFW Alphabet
S = Stamina ➡️ 1 Chapter | E | The thing is, Jake hadn't really thought Bradley was serious when they'd made The Bet. He'd laughed when Bradley had stated his terms ( "I want to fuck you til sun up.") It had sounded like a cheesy line, like he'd never left that pre-twenties stage of sex-based hubris. And then Jake had lost.
Y = Yearning ➡️ 1 Chapter | M | He’s paying the piper for the gift he’d been given: shockingly easy submission, a slack, wet mouth, a freely offered place to rest his need and have it soothed with tongue and sex.
HANGSTER-HANGOUT
The Love Chicken ➡️ 1 Chapter | Fluff | My dad said he knew my mom was the one over a bottle of wine and the best roast chicken he ever had.” “And now you’re making it for Hangman. So he can figure out that you’re the one.” “Something like that.” Bradley cooks for Jake. It goes even better than expected.
NATASHATRACE (Ao3 – crueltether)
first I love you/bronco conversations under the stars ➡️ 1 Chapter
daily create challenge (2/365) ➡️ 1 Chapter | something something Jake thrives in chaos but craves peace, something something Bradley thrives in peace but craves chaos
Restraint ➡️ 1 Chapter | E | Smut | “What was it you said, Jake? Something about being snug on my perch?”
ALLBARK-NO-BITE
mr. iceman, sir ➡️ 1 Chapter | Fluff | they called him Iceman for a couple of reasons. Jake is sweating under his stare. a snippet of Jake asking Ice to marry Bradley
SEMPERHUGGS (Ao3 – Semeprhuggs)
Slider's Matchmaking Again? ➡️ 3 Chapters | Present day Christmas with the Daggers and the Flyboys.
Proposal ➡️ 1 Chapter
#This is a Draft. But I need to publish it so I can experience it on the field and make changes if need be.#I may as well make it available for everyone tho. :)#This won't be updated with new fics as long as it's a '“draft”'.... So nada before february or sth?#Hangster Fic-on-Tumblr Recs List#hangster#sereshaw#hangaroo#bradley rooster bradshaw x jake hangman seresin#bradley rooster bradshaw#jake hangman seresin#🐈red🐈furry🐈cat🐈tag🐈
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Can you write about how Jongho or Hongjoong of Ateez would react to their s/o being depressed and hopeless about their future? I am in college and really struggling with trying to figure out what I want to do as a career and how to plan accordingly while still in school. Just really anxious and depressed and never see imagines about this stuff lol
hey, darlin’. i just what you to know you’re doing amazing! college is super scary and stressful and trying to join the workforce after can be pretty daunting. i want you to know as someone who graduated with a degree i am absolutely not using now, it’s ok for life to take its course and it feels like you’re out of control but when it feels things are falling apart, sometimes they’re falling into place. i hope these help you feel better 🤍
warnings: mentions of stress and school shit, mentions of severe depression and isolation (please reach out to others if you need help!)
notes: hongjoong’s definitely isn’t from personal experience or anything 🙃
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hongjoong- it was official, you went to the worst school in history. for weeks you had heard whisperings from other students about how the school was going under and they were cutting back on departments, you didn’t know which ones but honestly you just wrote the whole thing off as idle gossip. that was, until one of your closest friends heard it from a professor. then, d-day. it was madness. you kept hearing about some of your most favorite professors being laid off and that’s when the worst happened. you were asked to meet with your academic advisor and told that your entire department would be removed and worked into another department. after the best semester of your life, you finally feeling you had found your purpose and calling, it was all crumbling down around you. hongjoong was in the studio super late when he got the tearful phone call. it worked out that hongjoong didn’t have any other promotions and was at a place with the album where he could pass it off to maddox and leedz to finish. he got on the first plane he could and soon enough you were crying in his arms. “joong, i don’t know what to do. i was just starting to feel like this was what i was meant to do… now it’s all over.” you sobbed. hongjoong held you tight against his chest, pressing kisses to the top of your head. he let out a sigh before speaking, “i’m so sorry, baby.” he just let you cry, releasing all the pain and confusion into his strong embrace. when you finally felt like it was out of your system, he lifted your chin to look at him. “i know it’s all confusing right now and that it seems like everything is over, but i wanna tell you that it’s not. you have so many options. there are times in life when you feel like you’re on the right path and things are really good then something happens. that doesn’t mean you weren’t on the right path or maybe you were just on the wrong way of getting there. this school may not be for you anymore and maybe you can try seoul!” he lightened his tone, making you laugh through the tears. “but things in life aren’t meant to stay the same. things happen and change. it’s scary but i know you’re brave enough to get through all of it and figure out what’s best for you. but when you find your purpose and it feels right, keep chasing that feeling, wherever it takes you.” hongjoong finished with a sympathetic smile and kiss to both of your cheeks. he always knew what to say to make you feel better. even though things seemed bleak right now, you knew that you could always manage them… especially with hongjoong cheering you on.
jongho- starting senior year was something you looked forward to pretty much since exams of freshman year. you wondered how you could take four more years of this but somehow you managed to make it all the way to the end… almost. the final year of classes was brutal to say the least. all of your hardest classes were, of course, pushed off to the very end and you were being tested in the field you would hopefully be working in some day. it was a lot of pressure. adding to the stress was the impending doom of actually finding a job in the career you’d chosen. you would no longer be under the safety blanket of studying the field but rather on the tightrope of actually managing to work in the real world. it was all too much for you and in the weeks before your final final exams, you shut down. you couldn’t eat, you couldn’t sleep, all you could do was lay in your bed and worry. jongho was used to you not texting as much, especially when exams were coming up, but when his messages were going unread and his calls unanswered, he started to worry. then when your family was calling him asking about you, he knew he had to check on you. when he spoke to hongjoong and the rest of the boys and management about it, they agreed to let him go. the whole plane ride, he was anxious to see what awaited him, preparing for the worst… but nothing could have prepared him for the state you were in. opening the door to your dorm room nearly broke his heart. he found you wrapped in your comforter, eyes hollow and sunken, staring off into the distance. “baby…” he spoke softly to get your attention. “jongho? what are you doing here?” you finally snapped out of your stupor and sat up in your bed, still wrapped in your blanket. he didn’t answer your question, it wasn’t important to him, and if you were honest, you knew the answer. jongho quietly kicked off his shoes and crawled into the bed with you, pulling you tightly into his arms, rocking you back and forth as you finally broke down. he didn’t say a word as you sobbed, letting all the pressure that had built up finally release. “i’m just so scared, jjong. what if i can’t do it? what if i fail? i can’t do this, i can’t be out in the real world!” you rambled out all your fears, and he just let you. it was so comforting to just say all of this out loud and not feel judged or like your fears were anything but valid. jongho was really good at that. you could say anything and he was completely solid. he was your rock through some of your hardest times and you were so glad he came because you didn’t even realize just how much you needed him. jongho didn’t say anything right away, he pressed soft kisses to your face and head as quiet reassurances. after a few beats of silence he finally spoke up. “i’m so proud of you.” he said softly. “what?” you looked up at him confused, but he was completely sure. “i’m proud of you. you’ve made it through college and you’ve done the very best you could. you worked hard and got both good grades and some not good grades but you made it and gave it your all. the fact that you’re so upset right now just shows how much this all means to you.” he paused to kiss your lips softly. “i know you’ll succeed in whatever you do. whether you get a job in what you’ve been studying these last four years or something completely different. if you graduate and everything changes, that’s ok too. you’re going to do so well in this life and i’m happy to be next to you while you do it.” jongho finished and smiled warmly at you. you buried your face in his chest again as his arms wrapped around you tighter. for the rest of the evening he took care of you which put you in the best place to finish the term out strong.
#kpop#kpop imagines#kpop fanfic#kpop scenarios#kpop reactions#ateez#ateez x reader#ateez angst#ateez scenarios#ateez fanfic#ateez fluff#ateez imagines#ateez reactions#ateez fanfiction#hongjoong#hongjoong imagines#hongjoong imagine#hongjoong reactions#hongjoong scenarios#hongjoong fanfic#jongho#jongho scenarios#jongho imagines#jongho reactions#jongho blurb#choi jongho#kim hongjoong#jongho fanfic#jongho fanfiction
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