#i spent. way too long trying to figure out what the fuck his foot looked like.
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Tracking
𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You find out Miguel has been tracking something that concerns you… and him.
𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader
18+. Breeding kink. Period talk. Miguel going all scientific and keeping track of fertility windows for maximum efficacy. Dry humping. Inspired by this ask.
Miguel was in a bad mood that afternoon. You could see it coming a mile off, because having spent that much time around him over the past years had revealed many warning signs.
The circular platform was lowered all the way down to the floor by the time you walked past the door.
Miguel not turning to acknowledge your presence was warning sign number one.
You strode up to it warily, as if expecting him to explode at any given moment. Trying to lighten the mood, you tip toed to place a sweet kiss to his cheek.
He grumbled in response.
Warning sign number two.
His eyes were fixed on the multiple of screen sprawled in a half-moon in front of him, occasionally tapping and moving them around when needed.
“Someone’s in a good mood,” you teased.
“I’m nearly done here.”
“Hello to you, too, grumpy,” you nudged his arm with a smile.
Miguel merely nodded.
Warning sign number three.
At this point, you figured something was definitely going on.
“What’s up?”
“Hmm?”
You sighed. “You look and sound off.”
He tapped on a screen to his left. “You’re on your period.”
“What?”
Usually, that sort of remark would earn any man a slap at worst or a ‘fuck you’ at best. There was no shortage of men who would use women’s hormones as an easy way to deflect their feelings.
But there was something in Miguel’s tone that resembled… disappointment?
He scowled deeply, turning to face you. “You’re not pregnant.”
You stared at him for a long time, before bursting into laughter. “Is that why you’re all grumpy?”
“Oh, you think this is funny?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, his scowl deepening.
You stopped at once. “Wait… how would you know that?”
He returned his attention to the hovering screens in front of him. “Know what?”
“That I’m on my period?” you asked, suspicion rising inside you. “And I still haven’t gotten it, by the way.”
And just like that, Miguel’s crimson eyes were on you expectantly. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”
You folded your arms while tapping your foot lightly. “No. You answer me first.”
Miguel knew better than to antagonise you, especially now that you had information that interested him.
Dragging his index finger across the panel, you saw a file pop up with your name. That didn’t seem odd at all. Every spider in Nueva York was required to have one that displayed several strategic details as well as bio data that was fed by the dimensional travel watch. Your heart rate was at a steady 67 beats per minute.
“What about it?”
He tapped on a second tab that read ‘Fertility’.
Nothing could have prepared you for the influx of information you were about to be bombarded with.
And what it concerned.
July 4th
Cycle day 1 - low chance of pregnancy
Fertility window - 12 to 18
Ovulation day - 17 (high chances of pregnancy)
“You’re tracking my period?!” you snapped in utter disbelief.
“I’m tracking your fertility window.”
You glared at him. “How is that any different?”
“It’s not. Just nomenclature,” he shrugged casually as if talking about the change of weather outside.
You shot Miguel a death glare, before shoving him to the side, gaining full access to the flickering orange screen. The data collected went back as far as three months ago.
Miguel had been tracking your fertility window for months now.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shifted to stand behind you, easily towering with his impressive height. “It’s my responsibility to get you pregnant.”
Your eyes widened partially in disbelief, but mostly at the realisation that this shouldn’t be a shocking revelation.
Miguel had to be in control at all times. It was embedded in his genetic code. A few months ago you had casually joked that you wouldn’t mind having a child soon.
It seemed that it was all the motivation he needed to begin his quest.
Now it made perfect sense why he had been so insistent on always cumming inside you. You just didn’t think he would be this dedicated.
Joke’s on you.
“But it seems the data is wrong,” he said lowly, arms circling around you to have his hands atop yours on the keyboard. “You can edit it,” he whispered, pressing himself fully against you.
The added pressure pushed your lower half gently against the control table, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.
“Are you trying to seduce me, so I ignore all of this?” you whispered, enjoying how the proximity was having a noticeable effect on his cock.
He rolled against you slowly. “Me? Of course not.”
His fingers intertwined with yours, and you watched your heart rate on the screen soar to 78 beats per minutes.
You fought back a whimper, as he was nipping at your neck, fangs lightly poking at sensitive skin. You could feel the hard print of his cock pressed against the curve of your ass, and as you bucked your hips instinctively, you felt his own meet you halfway, setting a slow rhythm.
90 beats per minute.
“Let me get a blood sample so I can test out,” he said, his erection pressed against your ass.
“Someone really wants to be a dad,” you said with a teasing smile.
99 beats per minute.
His other hand came to grip your jaw, tilting your head until you met his eyes. “I need you to get pregnant.”
Your breath was coming out in shallow pants as he kept humping you at a steady and torturous pace.
“You mean… you need to breed me, right?”
109 beats per minute.
His eyeds widened lightly and he thrusted harshly into you, causing a jolt of pleasure to travel all the way down to your clit. “That’s the same thing, cariño.”
You gave him a knowing smile. “Nomenclature and all that.”
Masterlist
#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara x you#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o’hara x fem!reader#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel x reader#miguel o’hara x y/n
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Ghost Groom: Blade x Reader
𓇬♡ | Warning: NSFW, dubcon, etc.
For some fucked up reason you were forced to marry a man who has died a terrible death in a war. This was set up by higher ups, and your poor family decided to offer you as a sacrificial bride. You thought it would be scary, what you didn't expect was that the man appeared to be alive and well. The way he fucked you certainly didn't feeled like a dead person.
The sound of both of your heavy breaths filled the room. A figure of man, on top of you messaging your clit softly. His other hand pin your hands below your head. You squirm trying to get away from his touch but he holds your stomach down. His foot between your tight not giving you much space to move. Tears brimming in your eyes, threatening to fall down as you scream to make him let you go. He was silent for a moment before a sinister laughter fell off his lips. Instantly silencing your protest. From the dim light outside the window you could only make out the outline of a man, muscular with a smile creeping up his face.
"I thought you are my bride, aren't you supposed to accept me?" He sneered, words being told with a hint of sarcasm as the laughter died down. Leaving you with cold unbearable truth. You are the bride. Yes. But you are a bride for a dead person. You would never imagine spending a night with a ghost.
The word ghost doesn't sit well as you feel his finger tracing up your folds lightly before teasing your clit again. You bit your lower lips, afraid to let out even a slightest sound. At this the man clicks his tongue. You feel him insert his long digit to test your hole. Pumping it a time or two before gradually increasing the number as your wet hole stretched around him. You could not hold your moan as his fingers's movement into your hole grow merciless. Your back arch as he curls the long digit against your g-spot. Making you clench around him with a loud gasp. He continues teasing it. Your eyes rolled back as silent moans failed to flow off your pretty lips. He smiles as you clenched around him tightly, before gushing around him with a body trembling greatly. Your back fell flat on the bed, body still trembling while he pulled out his finger.
You feel his grip on your hand is gone, instead he is opting to brush your hair off your tired face. A gentle kiss was placed on your lips as he slowly meddled your breast, tongue intertwined with your own. It contradicts his scary laugh by how gentle he is with you. And it certainly doesn't do him justice to say he is a dead person by how warm his embrace, the heat radiating off his body that is trapped with your own. You were lost in his kisses and began wrapping yourself around him. Forgetting how you reject him at the start. The rest of the night was spent in blurry memories. Breathless kiss and shameless moan. You feel both your body heat was too much, but he keeps himself close to you. Pulling orgasm after orgasm out of your overstimulated body. It was so clear- the way his finger danced along your waist, pulling your hips closely against his. He fills every bit of your womb with hot thick liquid. He makes sure to fuck it back in until you looks knocked out. Unable to look straight to him. You feel like it will never end, yet the night passes and now all of it feels like a dream. Your last memories of him kissing you on your temple. How his hands gently sneak under your arm, wrapping around your body in a firm hug. You could feel his calloused palm rubbing down your back gently. Bringing your tired body to sleep.
When you open your eyes the next morning, the only thing left was you and the messed up room. Smell of after sex in the air left your mind in daze. The soreness between your legs and body is killing you. Once you are out of here you need to question the people responsible for this ritual. But for now you will go back to sleep.
#blade honkai#blade honkai star rail#honkai blade#blade hsr#hsr blade#blade x reader#blade x you#blade x y/n#blade smut#hsr blade smut#blade x female reader#hsr x reader#hsr x you#hsr x y/n#hsr x reader smut
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reckless serenade (kth)
i’ve been trying to figure out exactly what it is i need // called up to listen to the voice of reason // and got the answering machine
Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Fem!Reader
Type: One-Shot - Sequel to The Bad Thing drabble.
Summary: Your husband hasn’t looked at you in months, but his co-worker, Kim Taehyung, can’t take his eyes off you.
Word Count: 4K, with 2K+ being smut, lmao.
Content: SMUT - 18+; Taehyung's POV; infidelity; reader's husband really is just The Worst; oral sex (m and f receiving); multiple orgasms; face-sitting; penetrative sex (p in v); tbh it doesn't explicitly state whether it's protected or unprotected sex, so??; moral quandaries; Taehyung gets his own fucking warning tbh.
A/N: This Taehyung is back by popular demand. This picks up where the drabble left off, so go read that if you haven’t! Actual note and tags are at the end :)
You’d returned to the table separately, several minutes apart, to quell suspicion.
As it turned out, the subtlety hadn’t been unnecessary. Nobody batted an eye when Taehyung sat down after a prolonged absence; and, as expected, your husband’s lecherous gaze hadn’t left the waitress long enough to find you missing. So, when you’d slid back into the seat at Taehyung’s side, no one knew your dirty little secret.
Secrets. Plural.
Park Ji-won might never know that you’d just orgasmed thrice, only a few meters away behind an unlocked door. Or that Taehyung’s orgasm was still lingering where he left it, staining the inside of your little lace panties. Or that the wedding ring he’d bought for his pretty, young bride was still in Taehyung’s pocket, rolling between the fingers that now knew you inside and out.
Definitely not that you’d left that ring in Taehyung’s possession with the promise of retrieving it after dinner — if you even wanted that tacky thing back in the first place.
When the bill came, Taehyung’s co-workers — your husband included — whined like petulant fucking children that the twelve bottles of liquor they’d consumed were fully accounted for. Out of habit, Taehyung glowered and turned to see how you were reacting, only to find that you’d done the same.
There was a wry smile tugging at your lips when you whispered, “Well, well, well… if it isn’t the consequences of their own actions.”
He’d snorted into his glass of water, watched his life flash before his eyes, and — thankfully — managed to swallow down his laughter before he could choke on it.
Is this the personality your husband misses out on, listening to everyone but you?
Taehyung, keeper of the company’s black card, bowed to the waitress as he handed it over. She’d smiled at him — the first genuine one he’d seen from her all night — and scurried off to close out what had likely been one of the worst shifts of her life thus far.
Normally, he’d feel the same: eager to leave and get the fuck away from the ghouls he already spent too much time with. So annoyed by their lack of manners and restraint that his rage would carry him out the door, to his car, and home again without either foot seeming to come in contact with the ground. He’d levitate this time, too, but for different reasons.
Instead, Taehyung flew home on thoughts of you. He’d replayed the way you shivered when he pulled your chair out for you and helped you into your coat. Like a rose petal in his palm, so fucking delicate, he’d carried the memory of your hand bumping innocently against his on his way out the door. And as he drove, he thought of what you’d said under your breath.
Am I a consequence of your husband’s actions, too?
Taehyung has been home for two hours now, and he still doesn’t know what the fuck to do with himself.
He doesn’t bother turning on the television; he’d never be able to focus on whatever would end up flashing across the screen. He doesn’t pick up one of the many books in that untouched, yet ever-growing pile on his coffee table. His gaze keeps flicking hopefully towards his front door, as if staring at it with intention will manifest you on the other side.
What if you changed your mind? What if you'd been caught out? What the hell was Taehyung supposed to do with your wedding ring if you never came back for it?
Fuck. Shit! Motherfu—
His catastrophizing is cut short by a quiet knock on the door. Three shy taps in quick succession, they mirror the way Taehyung’s heart is thudding against his rib cage. He ignores the anticipation turning cartwheels in his stomach as he pushes himself off the couch and makes his way to you.
Even though you’d announced your intentions earlier, Taehyung is still semi-shocked when he opens the door and sees you standing on his doorstep. The look in your eyes tells him that you’re surprised, too. At yourself, maybe, for following this rabbit hole down to the bottom. Or at him, because he hadn’t used any of the past two hours to change from his suit into something less stuffy.
You did change, he notes immediately. You’ve traded in your dress and stilettos for active wear; and Taehyung really might die now, jealous of leggings that smooth over your curves like water. It’s the comfort that really has him fucked up, though. The hair in a loose knot on top of your head, the barely-there stain of pink on your lips now that your lipstick has been discarded.
“There you are,” He hums with a tilt of his head. There on his doorstep; there in real time; there in what he can guess is your usual state. Fucking perfect. “Wasn’t sure if you changed your mind.”
You cross your arms, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, and tilt your head just the same. “I didn't,” you breeze, “I was conducting an endurance test.”
“Oh?” Taehyung chuckles softly, “Do tell.”
“I wanted to see how long I could tolerate sitting home, alone, without even a texted excuse – and without going out of my mind.”
“Two hours? Impressive.”
“Forty-five minutes,” You correct him, eyes twinkling, “I just got really, really lost on my way here.”
“Even more impressive.” Taehyung grins as he opens the door and steps aside to invite you in.
You slink through the gap; and he can’t tell if the way you brush against him is intentional or not. Then, you toe off your sneakers and leave them on the mat next to the door. You look up at him, but he’s still looking at your shoes.
Plausible deniability, he realizes. Just in case tonight is the first night that your husband cares where you are — out on a run.
Taehyung pushes the thought away, tears his gaze off of those Nikes, and refocuses on you. Ignoring the million things he wants to do to you, he nods up the hall to his kitchen. “Care for a drink? I’ve got an incredible bottle of Bordeaux from Pomerol.”
“Just one bottle?” Your tiny smirk weakens his resolve even further. If he didn't love these little exchanges so much, he'd be worshipping you by now. “Not twelve?”
The most perplexing thing about you isn’t how quick-witted you are. Taehyung’s seen it in every conversation he’s ever had with you; and he waits patiently for it, every time. The twist is how subtle you are with your little quips. Perfectly understated, they’ll fly right under the radar of anyone who doesn’t expect them.
Does your husband even know to look?
He leads and you follow until you’re both standing in his kitchen. You take in your surroundings while you nibble thoughtfully on your bottom lip. Taehyung digs through a poorly organized drawer for a corkscrew he’s not sure he even owns.
Now, he’s nervous. This is the part where you find out he’s not a wine guy. He spent every step here praying that you wouldn’t ask him a single question about that Bordeaux because he couldn’t tell you a goddamn thing about it — except that it was a gift from a client, and that he hadn’t opened it because he prefers beer.
You, on the other hand, enjoy wine. If you do end up drinking at the firm events you attend, that’s what you choose. While your husband is off somewhere, drowning in hard liquor, Taehyung is laughing with you and your glass at a table. When the night’s over, he replays the sight of your tongue darting out over your lips, collecting the excess maroon that lingers when you pull your glass away.
Taehyung can’t point out Pomerol on a map and, as it turns out, he can barely operate a wine-opener. Thankfully, you have your back turned and your eyes fixed on the wall calendar full of shit he intends to blow off. You don’t glance back at him until, with a pop, he finally yanks the mangled cork from the bottle’s neck.
Before he can turn to the counter and grab two wine glasses from the rack hanging overhead, you’re already on task. On tiptoe, reaching up, up, up, you let out a frustrated whine when you still come up short. On instinct, Taehyung steps into the space behind you. You lean back against him while he secures one glass in each hand; he feels the heat radiating off your body and nearly drops them.
Not that he would mind.
It’s so hard to give a shit about this wine with the curve of your ass so near to his dick, but he’s a better host than he is a co-worker, so he slips away to pour you a drink. Once he’s finished, he holds yours out to you.
If he were drunk by now, he could’ve blamed it on the alcohol, but he swears there’s a faint crackle of electricity when your fingertips brush against his.
You close your eyes and inhale through your nose. “Mmm,” you hum appreciatively, eyes re-opening to blink up at him, “Smells incredible, doesn’t it?”
Taehyung has no fucking clue because he forgot to fill a glass for himself. He doesn’t care if you notice, either; he’s too transfixed by the sight of your lips parting as you bring your glass to your mouth. You take that burgundy in, the column of your throat bobs as you swallow, and he’s waiting for it – waiting for it – waiting for it...
It’s such an innocent action, the tip of your tongue swiping over your lip, but it sets off something primal in him.
Bordering on feral, Taehyung sets his still-empty glass back on the granite surface of the island and takes four, wide steps to you. A little gasp tumbles out when his hands claim your waist, but it isn’t surprise. Pupils suddenly blown wide, it’s want that prompts you to discard your drink beside his and tangle both hands in his hair.
Though he’s wanted to for years, this is the first time Taehyung has ever kissed you. It’s carnal. You kiss him back, and it’s all clicking teeth, whimpers, and desperate, clinging fingers. Insatiable, too, and it tastes like fancy French wine.
You’re starving for it, he knows, and you whine when his tongue leaves yours lonely. That pout could convince him, without a word, to rob a bank at gunpoint.
Who the fuck would leave you home alone?
“Angel,” Taehyung pants, locking eyes with you. He runs the pad of his thumb over your flushed cheek and feels the way you shiver. “I’m not above fucking you in this kitchen, but after fucking you in a public restroom, I think you’ve earned a bit more comfort than that.”
“Oh, fuck – just like that, angel. Shit!"
You’re on your knees between his spread legs with his throbbing length down your throat and your hair flicked over your shoulder. It’d all spilled from your top-knot a while ago, and Taehyung remains thankful for the shitty construction of that elastic band. Now, he has some part of you to hold while the rest of your body is out of reach.
Every instinct is telling Taehyung to throw his head back against the pillow – with his eyes screwed shut and his mouth hanging open – but then he’d miss the way you keep looking up at him under dark eyelashes. Wet eyes blink as your ravenous mouth works magic, and goddamn, this talent has been going to waste for years.
If he lets your ministrations continue, he’ll be dead long before he can pay you back – with interest. Buried before he can thank you properly for your service with his face between your thighs. So, Taehyung swallows hard, cards his fingers through your hair, and gently guides you off of him.
He’s committed a lot of sins in the past six hours, but interrupting your medal-worthy exhibition feels like the worst of them.
Your voice is a bit hoarse from how much of him you’d taken and how’d deeply you taken him. Wiping at the spit that slicks your chin, you look self-conscious when you rasp, “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Taehyung shakes his head firmly though most – definitely not all – of him feels like gelatin. “Fuck no, sweets. That’s why I have to stop you.”
Sitting back on your knees, you pout, and he melts. He’s already spent too much time wondering how your husband can leave you on the sidelines – but that was before Taehyung knew what face you make when you don’t get your way.
Goodbye world, he thinks. He’ll never get out of this bed as long as you’re in it.
He beckons you with a curl of his finger, wholly unprepared for the ramifications of his decision to do so. Now, you’re straddling him, hovering overhead with your face mere centimeters away from his. You lean in when he cradles your jaw in his hand. So sweet, you smile a little when you feel the tickle of his breath warm your lips.
“Ride me.”
Taehyung can’t help himself; he’s nearly pleading. You smirk and move your hand down towards the cock leaking all over his stomach. He reaches out, taps under your chin, and stops you in your tracks. You burn pink when he clarifies, “Not there.”
This idea has you frozen in place. Worse, there’s a speck of anxiety blooming in your eyes; and Taehyung doesn’t have to guess why. He’ll add this to the infinite list of ways Park Ji-won has fucking failed you.
Taehyung was already propped up on his elbow, but now he sits up fully to meet you where you are. “Hey,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over your chin before kissing you, “Only if it’s what you want. For what it’s worth –”
Fuck, you look so shy.
He kisses you again. “I want you to fuck yourself on my tongue –” And again. “Until you’ve taken back every orgasm –” Another kiss, and you whimper, “You’ve been deprived of.”
When Taehyung’s eyes flicker back to yours, there’s a new sense of determination burning in your irises. Even better, there’s a brief twitch in your jaw as you place your palm against his bare chest and push him back down against the mattress.
You’re a force of nature every day of the week, but as you crawl over him, it’s the most powerful he’s ever seen you look.
Your hands take hold of the headboard as you lower yourself down towards his mouth, which is already watering at the mere thought of tasting you. Pausing with your slick center just out of his reach, you glance down at Taehyung. He tilts his head to the side, nips playfully at your inner thigh, then soothes the sting with a slow swipe from his tongue.
He doesn’t say a word, but you hear him, nonetheless. Keep going. You do, and you both groan when his mouth meets your cunt.
Finally.
Tongue teasing at your clit, Taehyung’s hands on your thighs pull you down harder. He refuses to accept the shyness keeping distance between you. No, he demands your full weight; all of you.
Angel that you are, you acquiesce and grant permission for him to devour you fully. Taehyung can’t hear you keening over the suckling, slurping, and panting, but he can feel it in the way your thigh muscles clench around his head.
His name rings out clear as a bell, though, right before your whole body begins to shake.
“F-fuck!” You squeak, crumpling forward.
Taehyung suspects that your orgasm is too heavy to face sitting upright, but whatever the reason is, it’s bringing your fluttering cunt closer and closer to him; and he has no plans to stop at one. Spit-slicked and gushing over his mouth, the way you begin to grind against him says that you aren’t tapping out, either.
It’s a start, but he wants more from you. To coax it out, Taehyung pushes his fingertips deeper into the flesh of your legs and pleads with you to give him everything you have. You listen – so fucking well – and drop one hand from the headboard to grip his hair.
Yes, he screams inside his head. Use me, angel, just like that. And you do, rolling your hips against his mouth, tugging at his curls until he feels that incredible sting at his roots.
You come a second time with his tongue darting inside your hole, nose brushing against your clit. Insatiable, both of you, he forces out a third before those aftershocks can even subside.
Taehyung gasps for air when you wriggle away from him. You’re equally out-of-breath when you collapse sideways onto the bed and rest your trembling body against his. When he turns his head to look over at you, he expects to find you with your eyes closed, fully spent. Instead, despite your fluttering eyelids, you stare right back at him.
The way your fingertip traces soft spirals across his chest has his brain spinning, too. For reasons he can’t explain, that delicate touch feels infinitely more intimate than the million ways he’s touched you over the course of the night. It’s the most at-peace he’s felt, too, but you throw a curveball to keep him on his toes.
“Not tired already, are you?” You tease with a devilish grin before placing a kiss on his bicep. When he laughs incredulously at you – you minx – you keep those little kisses coming until they're trailing up the curve of his shoulder.
Taehyung is a firm believer in showing, not simply telling. Catching you completely off-guard, he rolls over until you’re pinned beneath him, head caged between his arms. Your surprise left you in a gasp, but the shock has already given way when he ducks down to nibble at the side of your neck.
You moan when he nips at your earlobe; you miss the way he smirks against your skin because your eyes have fluttered shut again. Who's tired now? He growls low from his chest to recapture your attention, “How do you want it, beautiful?”
Everywhere, all the time, like I do?
Taehyung suckles at a spot below your jaw, and he doesn’t give a fuck if your husband finds his calling card. You don’t either, it seems; you whimper and roll your head to the side to increase his access.
You keen as you place your hands on his shoulder and dig your nails into his skin, “Dealer’s choice, just – please fuck me.” It sounds close enough to a cry when you continue, “I need you inside of me – now.”
How could he ever say no when you beg like that?
Your poor thighs have been through enough, so Taehyung keeps you where you are: nestled underneath him with your heaving chest brushing against his with every breath. You spread your legs to create space for him, then cross your ankles behind his back when you feel his tip tease at your entrance.
He has to fight to keep his eyes open when he enters you; unwilling to miss a second of the way your mouth falls open, even though you’re too vexed to audibly moan. He’s not – not yet, anyway – and he can't keep quiet when your wet heat envelops him.
Slowly to start, Taehyung grinds against you, pushing his cock further into your cunt until he’s buried to the hilt. “Holy shit,” he grunts.
You’re dripping. There are rivulets of you spilling over his length, coating him all the way down. Still, your walls grip him tightly enough to dot stars behind his eyelids. Squeezing, daring him to move but fighting him as he tries to leave. You’ll milk him dry, sooner rather than later.
“I’ll never get over this – could fuck you every day, and it wouldn’t be enough.”
Whimpers spill out of you as he continues to rut against you, stretch you open for him. Your nails dig half-moons into his arms, and they sting, but Taehyung wants every single souvenir you’re willing to give him. He’d archive every touch if he could; play every mewl of yours on a loop, and savor the way it feels when you orgasm around his cock.
“So, don’t stop,” You pant, gripping his jaw and pulling him close enough to kiss. Against his lips, you repeat your demand, “Don’t ever stop.”
Taehyung is still trying to determine which version of you has him most fucked in the head.
He thought it was you and your little, black dress and heels. The version of you that followed the man who took your wedding ring into a public restroom; fucked him; and then left without your ring.
Then, he met the version of you that dresses down for clandestine, extra-marital dick appointments. A dark horse, certainly, but then there's the one who wore nothing at all; who shook, and cried, and came all over his face.
The best thing, he realizes, came last.
It's you in his crewneck, towel-drying your hair in his bathroom while he brushes his teeth. You, saying you'll stay – just this once – because you know for a fact that your husband never came home. You with your chin resting on his chest as your sleepy gaze struggles to focus on him.
Taehyung had figured that you were too tired to speak, so you startle him with your voice; even more so with the deep frown working its way over your face. With how much you shrink when you say, "I think I'm a bad person."
"Why, because you're here?"
You nod. His heart drops, though not because he didn't expect this. Rubbing gentle circles into your back, Taehyung inhales, deep in thought. There's a lot he wants to say, but significantly less that he can even begin to articulate. He can't say the quiet part out loud, even though it's screaming through his skull.
Maybe if your husband was a good person, you wouldn't be where you are right now. Maybe if he loved you, he would be home to notice that you weren't.
He tries his best, sighing, "I think people are a lot more complicated than that."
This thought catches your attention. Your chin digs into him slightly as you tilt your curious head to the side. Cute.
He continues, "I think we're given a hand of cards – some of them great, most of them shitty – and we do our best to play them well. You know, to the extent that we can."
"Do you really believe that, or are you trying to make me feel better?" You smirk, playfully tugging at the waistband of his boxers.
Taehyung exhales forcefully through his nose and tucks a runaway strand of damp hair behind your ear, "Does it matter?"
tagging: @borahae-k @i-purple-buff-bunni @pamzn @myimaginationsrunningwild @nonbinary-demonbrat @mgthecat @btschimeyplanet @jihopesjoint @jaejoontrashpanda @taebaelove @cyanide-mustard @xjoonchildx @jkoofier (couldn't tag) @bbyorchid (couldn't tag) @persphonesorchid @sncx3 @hersheytheekiss (couldn't tag) @iammisstora @quarter-life-crisis2 @here2bbtstrash @dvalitaes @1dsn @iadelicacy
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likes are always appreciated, but it's feedback that means the most — whether that's in a comment below, PM, reblog, tags, etc. tysm for reading ✨
A/N: So, by now, you've noticed that the original drabble and this fic are both in Tae's POV. I did not want to tell the reader how to feel about this. I wanted it to be as open-to-interpretation as possible, and I really, really, really wanna know what y'all think about the thing I didn't clarify: Do you think (1) they actually have feelings for each other; (2) Taehyung loves the idea of her and feels like he's "saving" her; (3) Reader just wants to be wanted, for once; or (4) it's a combination of things? HMMMM.
#re: the bad thing#re: reckless serenade#kth#kim taehyung#taehyung#bts taehyung#bts kim taehyung#bts#bts smut#bts angst#kim taehyung smut#kim taehyung angst#taehyung smut#taehyung angst#taehyung x reader#taehyung x you#taehyung x y/n#kim taehyung x reader#kim taehyung x you#kim taehyung x y/n#bts fic#taehyung fic#trashlibrary#heyryen#jade writes
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Hangin' with Dracula.
Finale of my Halloweeny drabbles with Joel!
31/10- trick or treating.
A/N: I love this trope with Joel where he falls in love with the babysitter so damn much. Also Sarah. Also Joel with slicked-back hair.
Joel Miller x f!reader
Word count: 2046
Warnings: fluff, kissing, mentions of a divorce + adoption (Sarah's not adopted in this DW), pet names
DO NOT COPY THIS WORK IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.
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You crouched down on the purple rug, picking up jewels from the pot beside you and carefully attaching them to the girl in front of you, adding the finishing touches to her witch costume.
"You've put like eighty of those things on my face, is it done yet?" She groaned, despite having asked for the fancy gems and designs from you.
"There are only 14 on there, stop complaining."
"Okay, okay, I just wanna go already!" Sarah exclaimed, foot tapping furiously beneath her as she sat on the edge of her bed.
"Calm down, just 2 more." You said as you reached for another gem.
"One.. two.. and done." You grinned, standing up and clasping your hands together as you admired your handiwork. Swirls of different sized and shaped purple gems adorned her face, with a little eyeshadow - that took a lot of convincing for her father to allow it - and her hair done as best you could. Hair was never really your strong suit.
You had spent at least an hour getting supplies and trying to make the costume look as good as possible for her though, enjoying the task and finding it a good opportunity to grow your relationship with the girl.
You had been Sarah's babysitter for almost 3 years now, and you both loved eachother, and although she wouldn't admit it she thought of you as the maternal figure in her life. You were so caring and patient with her, good to both her and her dad, and a sweet person in general.
And although you were supposed to be just her babysitter, you found yourself coming round to their place for things even when Joel was home like dinners and movie nights etcetera. He appreciated you a lot, and knowing Sarah liked you so much made him like you a lot too.
"Okay, don't touch your costume too much! I'll go get your dad then we'll go." You told her before walking out of the room and knocking on his down the hall.
"Joel? She's ready.." You called from behind the door. He adjusted the bowtie on his much too extravagant costume before opening the door, immediately hiding his face behind one hand when he saw the look on your face.
"Oh my god. You went all out didn't you?" You teased, moving his hand away from his face and starting to scrutinize the outfit.
"So it's a vampire.." you began, as he nodded. "I like the hair." You grinned. He had actually brushed his hair for once, slicking it back with some gel. "Yeah. Makes me look stupid though." He shrugged as the two of you walked into Sarah's room so he could see the costume.
"What d'ya think?" She asked him, doing a 'creepy pose' and wiggling her eyebrows.
"I think..." He started, walking over to her before picking her up and spinning her around, making her squeal and swat at him playfully. "It looks super cool." He said, tickling her sides slightly and making her erupt into fits of laughter.
"Dad! Dad, you're gonna- mess up the makeup! We spent so long on it!"
"Okay, okay. You look amazin', babygirl." He grinned, kissing her forehead before setting her down again. Your heart melted at the sight of them, they had such a good relationship despite how much Joel had to work and the other many difficulties they came across in life, ones you knew about very well. Finance, family.. more specifically her mother. Your jaw clenched at the thought of her.
When Joel told you what she did to him, to both of them, you wanted to find that woman and make her realise the impact she made on his life.
She basically had the kid then decided it was too much, wanting to put her up for fucking adoption, leading to a huge argument with Joel. He couldn't just give her up like that. It had only been a few months and he already loved that little girl more than life itself. He'd do anything for her.
So that's what he did. After his ex-wife moved out, he did everything for Sarah every single day. Woke her up, brushed her teeth, changed her clothes, fed her breakfast, changed her clothes again when she got said breakfast all over them, took her to the park, watched corny kids shows with her, read her stories before putting her to bed then working so late his eyes stung from being open too long. He did everything he could to be the best parent ever for her, feeling like it was his fault her mother left and needing to make up for it.
Then things got busy. The contracting company was not exactly smooth sailing but he needed money. For her. He didn't care about his own wellbeing anymore, he could starve for all he cared as long as she was okay.
That's when he hired you, just over 3 years ago. And you were a blessing in more ways than one. Not only were you amazing at your job, but Sarah genuinely really liked you, loved you, and the way she'd talk about you made him so happy, hearing about all the things you did with her and for her. He knew that subconsciously she probably thought of you like a mother, and you acted like you were one with her; he honestly couldn't have wished for anyone better to be that for Sarah, and it made him more than just like you. He reckons he really fell in love with you when he came home to both of you asleep, she was in her bed all nice and tucked in whilst you were kneeling on the hard floor beside it, storybook slipping out of your hand and it was evident you were staying awake just for her, making sure she was fast asleep even though you were evidently just as tired as her. You put her first before yourself like he always did, showing him how much you cared for her, and the sight might have brought tears to his eyes.
Not only were you amazing with Sarah, but you were also really good to Joel, it was like you took care of him sometimes too. You'd leave him food, ask him how he was, make sure he was drinking water and sleeping properly, even bought him new clothes after teasing him about wearing the same 3 shirts in rotation but then noticing that he only had that many.
You were pulled from your thoughts when you felt Sarah tugging on the flaps of your pirate costume which you threw together at the last second; she had practically begged you and Joel to wear costumes too, so you had gone and bought one for him the day prior then realised you only had your old one from years ago, which got stained so you didn't wear it again until now.
"Yeah honey?" You said quickly, trying to seem less out of it.
"Let's go!" She beamed up at you, shaking her candy bucket around. "This is far too empty for my liking."
You chuckled at her comment before taking her hand and walking to the front door with the two of them.
"Let's go, Dracula." You teased, making Joel roll his eyes as he unlocked the door.
The three of you spent the night going around the neighbourhood, trick or treating and even visiting a haunted house - which was put together so badly even Sarah found it more funny than scary.
She was drifting off just as it got to 10pm, Joel picking her up and resting her head on his shoulder as he walked over to you as you were caught in a conversation with a neighbour who's daughter you were friends with.
"I think it's best we head home now, unless you wanna do some more trick or treatin'?" He teased with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah, no. Let's go. Bye Mrs. Jones!"
"See ya sweetheart! Make sure you come 'round soon, maybe at Christmas?"
"Sounds good." You smiled, immediately grimacing once you'd turned around and walked away.
"Used to be friends with her kid and- shit happened so we aren't anymore. Her mom still thinks we're thick as thieves though." You explained to Joel.
"Shit happened?" He repeated questioningly.
"Yeah.. we knew eachother in highschool and stuff happened with boys. Yknow how it is."
"Boys suck. I hate 'em." He commented, making you laugh.
You rounded the corner and came to his front porch. He walked up the steps and you stood awkwardly at the bottom of them, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you waited to say goodbye.
"What're ya standin' down there for?" He asked as he opened the door and walked in.
"I- I don't know actually." You mumbled, walking inside behind him and taking your shoes off as he walked upstairs to take Sarah to bed.
He came back downstairs as you took off the outer, more cumbersome layers of your costume.
"You gonna take your costume off or am I hanging with Dracula for the night?" You smirked as his hand came to the button of his cloak.
"Right, right." He got to work with taking off his costume, ridding himself of the cloak, fangs (yes, he actually wore plastic fangs for this), bowtie and waistcoat.
You walked up to him in a moment of bravery and started unbuttoning the outer shirt he wore, he had put an extra on since it was actually really cold this Halloween.
A comfortable silence filled the room as you finished with the shirt, moving to hand it to him before his hands gently came over yours.
"Are you okay?" He asked, having noticed when you kind of spaced out earlier thinking about the past few years with them. It made you wonder if there was anything more, ever would be, and you accidentally let your thoughts get a hold of you for too long.
"What do you mean?" You replied, acting like you didn't know exactly what he was talking about.
"Well earlier you sorta.. y'were starin' into space." He explained, taking the shirt from you and putting it on the arm of the couch.
"Well, I uh- was just thinking." You murmured. You thought it would be kind of weird to tell him you'd been thinking about his ex-wife and how much better you could've been for him, for both of them.
"Thinkin' 'bout what'?" He pressed, stepping a little closer to you.
"Just about us." You said in an even smaller voice. "The past few years have been really nice and.. I just-" you groaned, cutting yourself off and looking away as you realised how awkward you probably just made things.
He took a deep breath before speaking, trying to calm his nerves and telling himself this was a good idea.
"I really like you, darlin'. Love you, I guess I should say." He confessed, making your head almost snap from how quickly you looked back towards him, eyes widening.
"You do?"
"Yeah." He exhaled, one of his hands coming to cup your cheek as he didn't see any signs of discomfort coming from you.
You leaned into his touch slightly.
"I really like you too." You said as your hands rested on his chest, feeling his heartbeat erratically thumping inside.
He closed the distance between the two of you with a cautious, slow kiss against your lips as your hands slid up and moved to his hair, pulling him closer as you deepened the kiss.
When you broke apart, you panted heavily as you looked into his eyes.
"You taste like chocolate." You murmured, making him let out a low chuckle.
"Had to take some from the bucket. Dad tax." He reasoned, making you nod in agreement.
You kissed him again, savouring the taste of chocolate and him.
"Tastes good."
"So do you." He smirked, hand still resting on the side of your face.
"Y'wanna stay over tonight?" He asked as his thumb rubbed circles on your cheekbone.
"Yeah." You breathed, unable to stop a grin from stretching across your face before you leaned in and kissed him one more time.
"Happy Halloween." He murmured.
"Happy Halloween, Joel."
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Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated and requests are open.
Happy Halloween! 🎃
#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller one shot#joel miller imagine#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller fluff#joel miller angst#joel miller x f!reader#joel tlou#the last of us#tlou hbo#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#halloween#joel miller hbo#amyispxnk fics
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False Pretenses (Eddie Munson x Reader)
Summary: eddie accidentally finds out a secret you've been keeping about your friendship. cuteness ensues.
Read Time: 5 mins
Warnings: the devil's lettuce, idiots to lovers, robin having better game than the guys
Author's Note: everyone is aged up by a few years. this came to me out of nowhere and i thought it was too cute not to write
"What do you mean you don't smoke weed?"
The entire house seems to go still, Robin and Steve staring at you with wide eyes. Eddie stands at the foot of the stairs, holding the case of liquor he went to retrieve from his van, parked in the driveway of Steve's parents' house.
"Hanging out in the basement, just like old times"! Except you forgot about the tiny little secret you've had for years - the entire reason you're in this basement in the first place.
Eddie crosses the room and flops down on the couch in front of you, tossing the hefty box of booze he's holding into Steve's lap (which he receives with a pained "oof"). He crosses his arms, leaning his elbows on his knees, eyeing you like one of the many Hawkins police officers who busted him for possession in his youth.
"You bought from me for five years," he states. "That's how we met."
It is how you met. Your senior year of high school (his second time around), you made your way to the picnic table in the woods just beyond the campus grounds and asked the eccentric metalhead you'd stared at every day for the past three years for a gram of his cheapest weed. He taught you how to grind the buds, to roll a joint, to hide the smell so you didn't get caught; he then took ten dollars of your babysitting money (seeing as it was your first time) and every week for the next year, you met him in that same spot and bought the same strain at the same amount.
When you graduated and went to college a few hours away, it became once a month. When a portal to hell opened up and killed one of his customers, and you were the one aggressive enough to get Hawkins PD to investigate further and stop suspecting him of murder, he started giving you anything you wanted for free.
And even though you never smoked it, just gave it away to friends or crushed it up in the garbage disposal, you still took it because it meant you got to see him. To hang out with him. To laugh with him and listen to his demo tapes and talk about anything at all that came to mind. Of course, your friendship got to the point where you didn't have to conduct business to be able to see him, but the routine was nice. It was only when you both moved to the city and he got a better paying job that you stopped buying from him, because he was no longer selling.
The weekly hangouts still continue, though. They've become too much a part of your lives to stop, especially when you still live so close to one another.
You give him a bashful smile, unable to hide the mortification blazing across your cheeks.
"Well... I sort of had a crush on you in high school," you admit. "And I wanted a reason to introduce myself and get to know you. So... I bought weed from you. Even though I don't like to smoke it."
Eddie stares at you for a long moment, his eyes flicking over your features as if he's trying to figure you out for the first time all over again. Then he huffs an exasperated sigh, standing so he can pull his wallet out of his back pocket and rifle through the bills inside. He holds a stack of twenties out to you.
"I'll give you the rest later," he mutters.
You don't take the cash. Instead you look up at him with a furrowed brow.
"Eddie, no, you don't owe me," you tell him.
"Yes I do," he quips. "You spent hundreds of bucks on drugs you didn't use just so we could hang out? Of fucking course I owe you! How the fuck else am I supposed to pay you back?"
"You could take her on a date," Robin suggests.
Your heads snap towards her, shocked. She rolls her eyes.
"Oh come on," she groans. "You're the only two idiots in the world who can't see you've got it bad for each other. Eddie, that groupie at your show last week was practically in your pants by the end of the night, but you didn't take her home because she wasn't the girl you wanted. I was the one who ended up taking her home."
Steve leans over and gives her a little fist bump. You turn back to Eddie.
"... Is that true?" you wonder. "I'm the reason you don't hook up? Don't date?"
Eddie shrugs, his turn to be embarrassed.
"I mean... yeah," he confesses. "I don't really wanna fuck anyone but you."
His eyes bulge, realizing the implications of his words.
"But I also don't wanna date anyone but you!" he quickly clarifies, words spilling out in a rush so that they're crammed together. "You're so pretty and funny and tough and I just... I dunno. You're my best friend. Nobody really compares to you."
If three sets of eyes weren't watching you so intently, you might have let yourself cry. You take a deep breath, reaching up for Eddie's hand; he takes it, lowering himself onto the floor in front of you. His fingers are shaking.
"... Will you be my person?" you ask.
His features break into a smile, that same gorgeous grin you fell so hard for as a freshman in high school. Nobody compares to him, either.
"Sure," he agrees. "... Even though you lured me in under false pretenses."
You smack at his arm and he laughs, reaching out to wrap you in a tight, loving hug. You melt into his touch, burying your face in his shoulder and savoring the feel of his body against yours. Just as it should be.
"Eddie confessed first," Robin says to Steve. "You owe me twenty bucks."
"Nuh-uh, no way," Steve argues. "She told him she had a crush on him in high school and you manipulated him into talking. You owe me twenty bucks."
"Hold on, wait," Eddie interjects, breaking your hug to look at them. "You took a bet on our relationship?"
"We've been doing it since the spring before you graduated," Steve tells him. "We thought for sure you'd finally get laid after you almost died."
Eddie snatches an empty beer can off the nearby coffee table and lobs it at Steve's head, which starts a wrestling match that ends with Eddie straddling him, holding him in a headlock and demanding Steve concede and admit he gets more opportunities for action, despite turning them down.
Yep. Just like old times.
#eddie munson#muerta's works#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson x you fluff#eddie munson fluff#idiots to lovers
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runs cold, runs deep
chapter 1: skin to skin
Summary: The ghouls happen upon you caught in a blizzard and nurse you back to health. When the blizzard snows you in, shenanigans ensue.
main pairings: swiss x you / ghouls x ghouls / ghouls & you
2.7k words ~ rated M
Distantly, you wonder if you had that survival rule a little backward. Maybe you were supposed to wait in the car when stuck in the middle of a blizzard, not look for help on foot.
There was no turning back now. The swirls of howling snow had swallowed the path you came. With every step you trudged through shin-deep drifts, the space seemed to fill within seconds. You thought for sure there was a gas station just a little ways up the road. Now, you weren’t even sure you were still on the winding, mountainous highway.
Fucking perfect, you think, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. I wouldn’t be dying in the middle of hell as it freezes over if I just cancelled this stupid trip.
This “adventure” was meant to be a birthday present for your partner— ex-partner, now. The outdoors weren’t exactly your best friend, but you were willing to invest in a pair of hiking boots off the sale rack for the sake of a surprise roadtrip to a few major National Parks. After all the time spent planning, booking lodging, and researching, you discovered your relationship was not quite as monogamous as you originally thought.
Unfortunately, their betrayal was revealed a bit too close to this trip. Deposits were nonrefundable, and heartbreak made you willing to entertain the delusional part of your brain you usually ignored. You convinced yourself you could do this week-long roadtrip solo, and so you did.
What you didn’t quite factor in was the reality of your winter-weather driving prowess. While your partner grew up in a cold climate such as this, you didn’t even own a winter jacket before this trip.
Unfortunately, that winter parka you thrifted was not as warm as it looked. You were soaked to the bone. Numb except for where your face burned as snow and ice pelted your exposed cheeks. So cold that when your boot snagged something hard beneath the snow you barely felt until you were falling face first into a deep snow bank. As the snow gave way to your weight and cut you off from the howling wind, the world grew much quieter. You took shaky breaths, trying to bring yourself back to reality. Think of a new plan. Find some help even though you drove for hours without seeing a single other soul on your route.
That realization furthered the dread pooling in your belly. Maybe you were as doomed as you feel. Who in their right mind would be out traveling in this weather?
_ _ _
“Maybe we should turn around?” Rain muttered, glancing out the window of the van with mild unease.
“A little late for that,” Dew grunted from the middle seat. He leaned forward, popping his head between the driver seat where Mountain was doing his best at navigating through the white-out and the passenger seat where Swiss was white-knuckling the safety handle. “How you doin’ Mountain?”
The drummer sighed. “Were almost there… I think.”
“You think?” Swiss groaned. “I shoulda gone with the girls.”
“The party poopers?” Phantom poked between Dew and Swiss.
“The ones with some fucking sense to leave early when we got the blizzard report,” the multi-ghoul said, swatting Phantom back to his seat.
“We’ll make it,” Mountain reassured. “There’s some lights up—”
“Wait, what the fuck is that?” Swiss interrupted, pointing out his window.
“What is—”
“Shit. Shit, stop the car,” his seatbelt was unbuckled and he was flying out of the car before Mountain could make a full stop. Dewdrop followed the frantic ghoul until he realized what Swiss had seen. He swore, hitting Phantom on the thigh to let him out too.
In the sea of fresh powder was a blob of red with a small dusting of snow starting to gather atop it. As the ghouls came upon the the blob it became apparent it was the figure of a human lying face down. Swiss knelt at her side, rolling her into his lap and covering her ice cold cheeks with his hands. Her eyes were closed, but there was a steady rise and fall of her chest that made the tension in both of their shoulders release.
“They’re breathing,” he said, gathering them in his arms and looking up at Dew. “Help me get them to the van.”
continue reading
_ _ _
this is part of the first chapter of my ongoing fic. it was meant to be a one-shot, but as of right now it's 5 chapters and 17k words with more on the way... so if you like ghoul shenanigans, mutual pining (with tropes!), and a little slow burn to the eventual spice, feel free to check it out on AO3 :)
#ghost band#ghost fic#runs cold runs deep#reader insert#no y/n#huddling for warmth#hypothermia#hurt/comfort#swiss ghoul#rain ghoul#phantom ghoul#cirrus ghoul#cumulus ghoul#aurora ghoul#papa emeritus iv#cardinal copia#mountain ghoul#dewdrop ghoul#sodo ghoul#the ghouls have some physical characteristics of their IRL counterparts bc that's how i see them in my head but the characters are fictiona#ghoul cuddle pile#negativeyield#ao3
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Hello! Can i request yandere sniper (or others if you want) trying to get the attention of someone really oblivious?
Have a nice day!
hi! wasn't sure if you meant in a literal way of gaining readers attention (like snapping his fingers to gain your attention). i interpreted this in more of an emotional way and wrote it that way. anyways, hope you enjoy this yandere content!
attention
it was dark inside his van. in the early hours of the morning it was pitch dark outside where mick sat at his wooden desk sharpening his kukri knife, only lamps lit up his camper.
micks eyes were painstakingly focused on the blade in his hands. too many times prior he had cut his fingers and palms on the sharp edge of the kukri. in a low tone, he muttered to himself about how unfair it was that he was surrounded by other men, unfair how you were surrounded by other men.
like many times before the blade slid just a few millimeters and it broke the skin on his forefinger just near the cuticle of his nail. mick cursed under his breath pondering why it seemed like everyone was trying to get "in his way" of you. mick had spent countless and restless nights in the cot of his van staring up at the ceiling or out of the skylight window.
he placed the knife down while he sucked the blood from out of his finger. it was a shallow cut, nothing he hadn't seen before. he sighed deeply, kicking out the chair from underneath him. he was itching to see you again and he was itching to take you away from the main base. after all, it was filled with all the other men he felt he had to compete with.
fuck. that pissed him off.
he needed to get you out of there and he needed to get all the deranged thoughts out of his head. despite it being the dead of night, he opened the caravan door then slamming it shut behind himself.
he was deadset on you. he huffed, making his way towards the main base. gun in his hand incase something were to go awry. the walk from his camper to the base was no less than a 10 minute walk and with his long and lanky legs that journey took even less time for him.
once he arrived to the base he walked around the perimeter towards your room. he knew your room was on the second floor facing the woods in the back. he turned the corner of the wooden badwater building, grazing his black gloves hand on the corner of the structure. he was careful enough not to step on any twigs or leaves on the new mexican desert that would've revealed that someone was outside. if anyone was up he would surely be caught and chased back into his van. his western style foots caused a small whirlwind of dirt and dust to kick up every step he took, only for it to drift back down onto the burnt orange dirt underneath him. a small rust colored pebble the size of a babies' palm laid still right besides feet, squatting down on his haunches he picked the little rock up. he stood up tall again and hurled the rock at your open window. a little light from your vintage club table lamp luminated the corner of your room, he assumed that you were up reading or drawing. even from outside, he heard the little clank of the pebble on your oak wood floor. a breeze of warm southern wind blew by and gave mick goosebumps, his eyes were glued on your window, watching your petite shadow dance on the walls of your room. your body came into view as you bent over to pick up the rock mick had just thrown into your room. he was studying you, trying to determine what exactly you were wearing, was it a nightgown? his eyes traced your chest slightly internally hoping to see even just a glance at your bare chest.
mick was save hidden within the shadows and the darkness of night. he stood still and as quiet as a mouse watching you move around, twisting your head around in an attempt to figure out where the damn rock came from. finally, you approached the open window, looking up at the top of the white window head down to the window sill outside that you and pyro had decorated with a new cacti and plants native to the area. mick saw you shrug in an assumption that you had finally figured out where the rock came from.
he wanted to yell out to you in a hush town for you to come outside and look at the stars with him. it was the perfect cloudless night for stargazing.
you tossed the pebble out the window, the both of you watching it tumble down until it hit the gravel floor and rolled over a few times before stopping some inches away from where it originally landed.
you lifted your arms up and shut the window, turning around and swiftly walking away.
"fuck. me." mick sighed in disappointment, pondering why he couldn't have just said your name, why he couldn't fucking talk to you. you were right there. right in front of him. all he had to do was
say.
your.
name.
defeated, his gaze shifted to the small light in your corner flick off. seems as if the random appearance of the rock in your room from nowhere didn't startle you as much as what mick hoped for. sighing, he turned on his heels back to the safe haven of his van, slinking back into the shadows of what he was loneliness he was too familiar with.
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writing prompt #04
bumping into each other as solo travelers ; park sunghoon
태양보다 찬란한 . . . 그게 바로 나
INFO : : park sunghoon x reader / romcom
wc : <1600
notes : this was lowkey rushed bcs i had an idea at 12am but i had to go sleep but i couldn't risk losing the idea
20 JANUARY 2023 : :
2:04 - it's currently 2am and i've just landed in paris, and i'm now heading to my hotel room to take a long ass nap.
13:12 - jk the nap lasted from around 11 hours. now it's 1pm and i'm going to go out for lunch. i've heard a lot of good word about a specific cafe so i'm gonna go try it out!
13:37 - the weirdest things just happened what the fuck? i bumped into this guy, who was really hot btw, by accident. obviously i apologized for it like a normal person but he just scoffed at me and left?? thanks for that random stranger.
23 JANUARY 2023 : :
12:02 - i just had a quick snack and i'm currently on the train to versailles, i wanted to have a quick look at all the beautiful architecture. i find versailles to be such a romantic and beautiful place lol
12:28 - i've arrived at versailles! i have a tour booked for today at 1pm, so i guess i'll walk around versailles for now.
13:13 - no fucking way, the guy i bumped into a few days ago is here too, like, in the same tour group as me. i said hi and he basically looked at me weird and left me standing. thank god idk this guy and i'll never see him again, he seems like an ass.
14 APRIL 2023 : :
10:16 - hi journal, today i'm in the netherlands, i heard about the keukenhof tulip garden and of course i had to come here. i just had breakfast at the hotel i'm staying in and i'm about to head out to the garden to see all the pretty flowers!
11:11 - THE GARDEN IS SO PRETTY OMG BUT THAT EXPERIENCE WAS LOWKEY RUINED. by who you may ask? by FUCKING FRANCE DUDE?? WHY IS HE EVERYWHERE???? like i was taking photos of the pretty flowers and boom, suddenly i see him through the lens of my camera, please get this guy out of my life
11 MAY 2023 : :
00:01 - i have finally done one of the things off my bucket list, and that is to visit switzerland! i always saw tiktoks and photos of the amazing view and obviously i had to come see for myself, but it's 12am rn and i am really tired so i'm gonna go sleep, then i'll explore in the morning
11:42 - okay i woke up a few minutes ago which is quite late, but i'm gonna go down to the hotel's cafeteria and have some brunch before i explore the town
4:51 - hi this isn't funny anymore, i literally just set foot into an eatery near one of the places i was visiting and i see france dude, AGAIN. can he just get out of my life atp please, i'm so sick of seeing his annoying (but ig good-looking) face. AND WHY IS THE ONLY AVAILABLE SEAT LIKE NEXT TO HIS TABLE???
-- (☆)
i'm going back home to korea today, i think i've been travelling way too much, so i'm going to go home and rest up and spend time with my family and some friends.
i boarded the plane and by that point it was 11pm and i was honestly drained. i spent a whole day exploring the more nature-y side of switzerland and the view definitely did not disappoint.
i sat myself down in my assigned seat and was so ready to fall asleep at this point. a guy walked over and sat next to me, and i bet you won't be able to figure out who was gonna be my plane seatmate for almost 12 hours. yeah it was france guy. he seemed pretty surprised to see me too i think.
after he sat himself down next to me, he looked at me, maybe i was staring too hard.. "hey" i looked at him, question marks practically all over my forehead. "can you stop staring at me" i scoffed at him, this guy is ridiculous!
the plane took off a few minutes later and i was starting to doze off, and unfortunately for me i left my neck pillow in my luggage by accident, so my head was dropping left and right.
i suddenly woke up and it felt like i was lying against something? i sat upright to see what i had been sleeping on, and it was france dude? he woke up when he felt me getting up. "you're finally up, my shoulder feels like it's about to dislocate"
'okay sorry for accidentally sleeping on your shoulder but like, rude much'
"oh shit, i'm so sorry. i left my neck pillow in my luggage and i think i just passed out suddenly" he scoffed and i was so close to losing my shit not gonna lie. but the next moment, he handed me his neck pillow and i looked at him while holding the neck pillow. "just use it, i'd rather you use my stuff than you use me" damn okay stranger. "oh, thanks?" and soon he attempted to go back to sleep.
it was currently 8:59am, which meant we still had probably less than 2 hours left of this plane ride, and i was thanking heavens because 12 hours next to this guy would've been hell if i weren't fast asleep.
france guy was moving around in his seat and i assumed he couldn't fall back asleep. i tapped on his shoulders a little to get his attention "hey, you can have your neck pillow back, seems like you can't sleep, and i'm pretty energized right now" he looked at me and sighed "it's fine, i'll just give up on going back to sleep".
after that it was pure silence. and i couldn't stand it so of course i had to open my big ass mouth.
"so.. you travel a lot?" he nodded his gaze fixed on his phone. "alone?" he nodded again still focusing on his screen. damn talking to this guy is so hard. let's bring up the past! "you remember the first time we met?" he finally looked at me. "we've met?" are you fucking serious right now.
"i bumped into you on accident in paris back in january?" he thought about it for a second before replying. "oh! i remember now, you bumped into me and almost spilt your hot coffee all over me" "hey! it almost spilt on me too okay, and i apologized for it" he shrugged it off and went back on his phone.
"you know, i kept seeing you around while i was travelling and at some point i thought you were stalking me" he looked back at me again, his eyebrows furrowed this time. "what the fuck why would i stalk you, i don't even know you?" "it happens sometimes" "hey, for all i know you could be the one stalking me right now" i was taken aback, speechless, i can't handle this guy oh my god.
"you know, your looks and personality clash a lot" he gave me a look that said 'wtf do you mean'. "you're a good-looking guy, like, i'd definitely date you if your personality was nicer" he stared at me for a while and chuckled a little. "for your information i have a great personality" "it sure doesn't seem that way" he scoffed and put his phone down before looking me in the eyes.
"i'm nice to people i'm close to, last i checked, we don't even know each other." "maybe we can change that" he looked shocked by what i said. honestly i'm shocked too, but i mean, he's pretty hot, it would be a wasted chance.
"you want us to get close?" i nodded. "you're ridiculous lady" i rested my head in the palm of my hands as i kept eye contact with him "it's y/n, lee y/n. and you are?" he looked at me in disbelief for a while. "i can't believe this is happening." he let out a deep and heavy sigh before introducing himself. "i'm park sunghoon."
"nice to meet you sunghoon. oh, i was gonna ask if you were korean, but your name just confirmed it for me" "are you heading home right now?" i nodded to his question. "homesick?" he asked, and i nodded. it seemed like he was feeling homesick too. "maybe we should hangout sometime while we're in korea" i blurted out suddenly, to my surprise he didn't oppose of this idea.
i then pushed my phone towards him, "can i have your number then?" he looked at my phone, then at me. "are you hitting on me?" i don't know, was i? i mean, i am interested in him, so i guess? "yeah i am, so what do you say, can i have your number? and maybe we can go out sometime and maybe even travel together?" he stared at me in shock, but his reply lowkey shocked me too.
"sure, let's go on a date soon"
#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen hurt/comfort#enhypen sunghoon#sunghoon#park sunghoon#sunghoon imagines#sunghoon scenarios#sunghoon x reader#wonjinburger writes
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[13] apocalypse + ex!san + "it was necessary."
part 12 | masterlist | part 14
a/n: 4.3k, a LOOOT of cursing, mentions of reflecting back on unhealthy relationships
-
apparently, yeosang can tell, too, that your threat is not a bluff. yeosang's voice rings clear through the room. san steps into the room as he talks, closer to you, and you keep your distance, the radio tucked close to you. san seems to still when he realizes you're moving away from him, hovering in the liminal space between the door and the foot of his bed.
"this isn't an excuse, but i was desperate, and you showing up the way you did seemed like a fucking miracle all on its own. i've spent years trying to figure out how to get back into the sanctuary and get someone out. i left him behind the night i escaped, and mingi and i swore we wouldn't rest until we got him out of there. wooyoung, yunho, and san refused to let us go back to the sanctuary." yeosang lets out a small, humorless laugh, "in fact, wooyoung tied us to our beds for a week once. they didn't want us recaptured, and hongjoong and seonghwa were constantly on the lookout for us."
yeosang sighs, "then you showed up. i...when i saw you had the other radio i saw an opportunity. you - i...i didn't like you at first, when i realized who you were. especially when i saw you still had the fucking radio too. you'd been an obstacle in my life long before i ever fucking met you. i really didn't want to like you, y/n, but" - yeosang lets out another humorless laugh, and you grit your teeth at the sound of it - "the opportunity you presented was nothing short of a goddamned miracle. i couldn't pass it up. we were already in hot water, anyway. the sanctuary's search teams were getting closer and closer to the bunker. we...we kept tabs on the sanctuary for years, so we could avoid them, but the tire shredders they put out were unexpected and way too fucking close."
the crackle of yeosang keeping his finger on the talk button is gone, and you find yourself lifting the radio and snapping into the silence, "so you gave me the wrong directions on purpose? is that what you're saying?"
"the sanctuary sat north of town. not south. i knew telling you that much would have you running straight into one of their search parties."
your fingers curl into a tight fist at your side, nails digging into your palms, "i fucking saved your lives, yeosang. and you repaid me like this?"
"it was necessary, y/n. you have to understand that."
you want to scream at him, and you wish this wasn't happening over the fucking radios, that you could look yeosang in the eye before you punched him. necessary?
but he still has his finger on the button, so you can't interrupt, no matter how much you want to.
yeosang murmurs, "i did hate you a little bit, but i'm not a monster. the stuff about avoiding the orange flags was true. i hoped you'd get out of town by some stroke of luck. but you didn't. the plan was to have you taken by the sanctuary, and when hongjoong recognized the knife, he'd target you so you wouldn't want to stay. you...you would do whatever we wanted to get out of there. i wasn't sure if you'd keep the radio, or even put the batteries in, so i know a lot of the plan was based on pure chance, but somehow it worked. some-fucking-how, everything fell into place perfectly and it worked. when i heard your voice, i felt...sorry, y/n. you have to believe me. but, for the first time in years, i finally had an opportunity to find my friend and get him the fuck out of there."
every word that comes out of his mouth adds fuel to the fire growing at the pit of your stomach. the ache in your chest is an added pain, just more tinder to the fire, because you thought the two of you were allies, at the very least, and here he was, telling you that he was willing to sacrifice you for his goals. here he was, telling you all this as if you'd somehow agree with his stance just because he wanted to save a fucking friend of his.
standing here, with the chair you'd always sat on acting a barrier between yourself and san, with the radio clutched in your trembling hands - trembling not because of fear, but because of anger and disappointment, so much fucking disappointment - and the urge to scream, the anger inside only grows and grows, until you're afraid it will consume you whole and you will become a raging, unrecognizable beast because of it.
"let me get this straight." you bite out, "you set me up to get kidnapped and you made sure i'd be targeted by giving me that knife, just so you could jump in and pretend to be my fucking saviors. all because of what? because you found someone to unknowingly do the dirty work in saving a friend who you abandoned in this fucking shithole?"
this time you laugh, cackle really, and you have to press your fingers to your mouth to keep it from turning truly crazed.
you say, "what if i died in the process? would you really have felt sorry, yeosang, if the person that has been haunting your stupid fucking relationship for years just so happened to drop dead while doing all your dirty work?"
san visibly winces at your words, but he doesn't say a thing. he doesn't say anything and that pisses you off more.
yeosang says, "yes, i would have been sorry. i'm not a monster."
"as i listen to this fucking plan of yours, i'm finding it really, really hard to believe that."
yeosang groans, "it's fucked up. i know. and this isn't an excuse. i'm genuinely sorry you had to get caught in the middle of it."
he's making it sound like you chose to get caught in the middle. your palms hurt with the pressure of your nails digging into the soft flesh there.
"i saved your lives," you say, "i kept your bunker location from hongjoong because wooyoung told me he hurt you, to the point where you came out of there a different fucking person. i kept your fucking secrets because i didn't want that to happen again. i bet," your voice falters, your throat closing in realization and horror and frustration. you clear your throat, say, "i suppose you knew i'd cover for you, huh?"
"i figured you were that kind of person when you didn't drop mingi and run."
the resignation in his tone makes you wince. you look at san, and watch as he closes his eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line, his brows furrowed, his shoulders slumped forward.
"i should have left you both to die that night." you say, and san's eyes snap open. you continue, tone vindictive and mean and only a quarter of the fury inside of you, "i guess the only good thing about all this is that i still have the chance to make sure you do die, right? though hongjoong's going to make it a lot worse than those aliens ever could have."
yeosang's voice still echoes as he speaks, but his tone is a hint more desperate. that feeds the fire, strokes it in a way that would have horrified you before you'd entered the sanctuary. now you're so tired and angry, you find the desperation satisfying. deserving. you want him to grovel. yeosang and wooyoung and mingi. yunho, too. and as you look at san, the way he stares at you with wide, surprised eyes, you want san to grovel too.
"y/n, please." yeosang pleads, "i know i fucked up, but san caught onto the plan a few days later. he knocked some sense into me, and i realized that what i was doing wasn't fair. especially when you were - you were apologizing to me, when you shouldn't have been sorry at all. san was so fucking pissed when he found out that he immediately decided he'd go in after you. he wouldn't listen to any of us. he's in there to get you out, and knowing he's out there... i just - i know i was an idiot for ever throwing you under the bus. it's just - if you tell hongjoong and seonghwa, they're going to kill him, y/n. they're going to kill san."
a part of your heart still twists at the thought, but the angrier more vindictive side of you shuts that down quickly. yeosang only cares about san's wellbeing. not yours. he only realized the danger he put you in, because san is in the same environment and he's realizing the consequences of actions entails san possibly getting hurt. yeosang does not care about you, or your wellbeing.
"oh," you laugh, regarding with contempt. you sound like you're ten seconds away from a breakdown, your cackle too loud, too hollow, "well, that's too fucking bad. should have thought about that a long time ago. what did yunho call it? a contingency plan? should have worked that out first huh?"
you step around the chair, and san steps in front of you. you ignore yeosang, wooyoung, and yunho's voices drifting through the radio, similarly desperate, worried, for san. not you, just san.
as you stare at san, everything else seems to fall away. for a moment, everything is choi san, wholly and fully, and you vision flickers between a young san, with betrayal in his eyes as you'd told him to get out, as you rounded on him, smacking his chest, and you'd bit out, get the fuck out. everything is that night, and your breathing comes out jagged, your chest tight. the present san exhales softly, but the sound is just as jagged as the feeling in your chest, in your heart.
you snap, "move."
"y/n, please." san's voice is calmer than yours, quieter. it makes you want to scream.
"get the fuck out of my way."
san closes his eyes, briefly, before opens them, determination brightening his eyes. he says, "the friend yeosang and mingi wanted to save is jongho, y/n."
that makes you falter, your fingers loosening slightly around the radio. so jongho's friend, the one he mentioned you reminded him of. it's yeosang. it has to be yeosang. your heart pounds, and you're still so fucking angry, but you get it, the desperation to save someone like jongho from the likes of this place, from the wrath of seonghwa and hongjoong. would you have thrown a stranger, an ex of your significant other who only ever created problems in your relationship despite never meeting them, into harm as a way to save your friend? you want to say no, but you don't know what you'd do if you were truly in such a situation. besides, you'd spent more time in the sanctuary worrying over jongho then you should have. the two of you are going to escape to the other side of the country, for fuck's sake. in that moment you find yourself in yeosang's shoes, and you despise that you get it. you understand him.
a wave of deep, deep sadness washes over you, your fist shaking at your side. you'd heard once that anger is a secondary emotion, one that had sadness or fear lurking beneath its depths. you never really understood that, until now. what the hell has this world come to?
still, despite understanding his motives, none of this okay. this is not okay.
"so what?" you stare at san, "you think that's a good enough reason for this?"
san shakes his head, his jaw ticking, "look, y/n. i didn't know - i never thought yeosang would do something like this, if i'm being honest. i caught him talking on the radio with you one night, and i lost it. i just...i know i've been an ass to you before in the bunker, but this was a level of low i couldn't get behind. i got myself captured, so i could make sure we got both you and jongho out in one piece."
"why didn't you tell me any of this?"
"i don't - i didn't think it mattered as long as i got you out. i thought i could keep the peace somehow, and protect - "
"oh fuck off with that," you roll your eyes, trying to sidestep him. he only blocks your path. you look up at him, "lying to someone isn't protecting them."
"i never lied. i just -""
"all you've ever done is lie to me!" you interrupt, voice raising, "even Before. you spent years telling me you loved me, only for you to admit you never fucking meant it. you didn't even like me. you," your voice cracks, but you power through, "you barely even tolerated me, san. you said it yourself. you were my first love, and i was nothing to you, and now this? all you ever fucking did was lie and break my heart. i can't believe you think you've changed. you're the same as you've always been."
"your -" san blinks in surprise, "your first love?"
rage bubbles at the pit of your stomach as you blink back tears born of both frustration and disbelief. your stomach curls into knots, and you feel nauseous at the feeling as you ask, "how is that a fucking surprise to you? how?"
"i never meant any of what i said that night!" san drags his hands through his hair, tugging at it, his eyes alight with a million emotions you do not care to decipher. "for months and months you refused to show me any affection. you never even said that you loved me. for years, i got nothing from you! and i get it now, that the two of us had a lot of shit to work through, but you couldn't even say it, y/n? not even once?"
his voice cracks on the last sentence, lilting up and trailing off, and the tears in your eyes well at the reminder coupled with the glassy shine in his eyes.
you'd spent so long trying to forget your relationship with him, and with the end of the world and wandering as a ghost, you'd succeeded. you were bad at expressing your affection, always avoidant, unable to really voice much, always forgetful of anniversaries, and san was too much to you. too attached. you loved him so much, but the attention was overwhelming and stressful, and you often worried you were not enough, so you tried to step away first, so he could turn around and tell you he was sick of you first. he never did that, though. instead, he started trying to make you jealous. at first it was meant to be a one-off thing. that was the only time either of you talked about it, because san's tactic worked a little too well and, out of jealousy, you'd reacted and finally showed san the attention he wanted. afterwards, you'd laid with your heads close, your fingers threaded through each others, and your legs tangled, a heavy silence between you, and you said, can we talk about it next time? instead of doing all this? and san had agreed.
but that agreement fell through very quickly. why wouldn't it when san's tactics elicited immediate responses? it was easier than talking. it was a quick solution.
but you both fell into a cycle of anger and jealousy and the type of relationship that was far from healthy. the worst part was, neither of you ever talked about it after that first time. you fought and made up and pretended like the two of you were perfectly fine. you truly believed your actions were enough. that san would understand that your cutting fruits for him, and folding his laundry when he had a long day of work and classes, and making his favorite dinners every once in a while, and leaving him handwritten post-it notes wherever you could just to see him smile softly at them, was the embodiment of actions speak louder than words. you always thought he just knew you'd loved him. you never truly realized that you never told him you loved him back.
"i thought," your fists loosen and your heart is a heavy thing in your chest, weighing you down until you have to dig your heels to keep from sinking, "i thought you knew."
san shakes his head, rubbing at his unshed tears as he looks away. the silence stretches on much too long.
then san says, "it doesn't matter anymore. back then i was stupid and young and i wanted to hurt you as bad as you were hurting me. i know, god, i fucking know i fucked up that night, y/n, and i regretted what i said."
"then why didn't you say anything?"
"you told me not to come back," san blinks at you.
you stare right back. you did tell him that. you'd hoped he wouldn't listen, but he did. for once, he did.
san continues, speaking slowly, "but please believe me when i say that the minute i found out what yeosang planned for you, i only wanted to get you out of here. i promised you i'd get you out, and i'm sticking to that promise."
"why?"
"what do you mean?"
"you had no problem leaving me tied up before sunset when you and your friends robbed me," you frown, "but you came in after me this time. is this because of guilt?"
"i thought if i left you there, i'd never have to see you again. seeing you again...it scared me."
"why the hell would it scare you?" your fingers clench around air, "i was the one who was robbed."
"i'm sorry, y/n." san frowns, "it's just...it's because" - he clears his throat - "because i care about you. i still care about you. i thought i stopped, but i saw you again and it just. it set me back to the very beginning so easily. i thought you'd get that by now."
your heart races in your chest, and this time out of a completely different emotion. he'd said he didn't care about you so often, you truly believed it. you want to be unsure if he means it, but the way he's looking at you, with sincerity flooding his dark eyes, and his gaze heavy on yours, your gut tells you that for once he is not lying.
but you are not in the right space to dissect how that makes you feel. all you can think about is the fact that he lied in the past, that all that is in the past, and in the here and now, his actions have hurt you. him telling you this, after he spent so long shooting you down, brings an ache to your chest you can't quite name. all you can wonder at is how difficult it is for the two of you to just be fucking honest with each other. it's like you're both incapable of it.
"no," you shake your head over and over, stepping back from him, not realizing that he's drawn closer until you pull yourself out of the bubble that is choi san, "no, san, no. you don't get to do this."
your voice crumbles with each word, and you hate it. you hate the way he looks at you, with the softest of eyes, with a visceral sadness that settles under your skin and makes a home there.
he lifts a hand, as if he wants to touch you, but then he drops his hand. he murmurs, "do what?"
"make me feel bad for being angry. pull me back in when you spent so long being so...so mean," your voice cracks on the word, because he's been worse than mean, but somehow you can't get yourself to say anything but that. you say, "you can't act like you haven't been withholding information from me all this time."
"i told you before, y/n," san drags his hand over his face, "i can't choose between any of you. i can't choose sides."
"if you think being honest with me is choosing sides," you exhale, "then i'm fucking done here."
you try to shove past him. he grips your elbow, dips his head, says your name in a way that makes a small part of you want to stay, while the angrier part of you wants to scream and scream and scream. he says, "y/n, please."
san's touch is light, one you can easily shake out of.
you look down at his hand, and you think shake your head, over and over and over. you say, "no."
san sighs, "whatever you do next, it's going to end badly. please just consider that at least."
you find you don't care.
you keep your eyes locked on him as you bring the radio to your lips, and you say, "yeosang, i'm telling jongho everything you've done, and he can decide if he wants to see you again. i like to think he won't. either way, fuck every single one of you."
it feels a bit like a goodbye, and you really hope it is.
you push the radio into san's other hand, before looking down at the the hand still holding your elbow. you look back up at him, and say, "let me go."
slowly, he retracts his hand. it reminds you of when you told him not to come back and he listened. you're not sure how you feel about it, but your stomach still curls with a mixture of rage, disappointment, and resignation. san's dark eyes flicker over your face, and his lips press into a thin, determined line.
if he was going to listen to you, if he didn't come back back then, then you figure he'll do the same now. and, maybe, he doesn't deserve this. he doesn't deserve any type of closure on your part, but you can't help it when you look him in the eyes and you say, "you need to let me go this time."
you say it like he's the only one who couldn't let go. like you hadn't kept his radio in your room for years and years. like you didn't feel something right now, despite every thing that's happened. he's your first love, though, and those never truly leave you. it's easier, now, you think, with the fire inside you fueling your every decision.
you study his expression, repeat, "let me go."
san's eyes are glassy, his mouth set in stone, his fingers curling into fists at his side. but he nods. he nods.
most importantly, he does not try to stop you when you turn and leave.
~.~.~.~.~
you make a beeline for the warehouse where jongho is working his nightshift. the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end as they always do when you're walking the grounds under moonlight, but this time you can't focus on anything but talking to jongho and getting the hell out of this place once and for all.
as you walk away from san's room, from the radio, and yeosang, as you process the gravity of the betrayal you've faced, you know you were better off wandering alone. at least this time, you'll have jongho as a companion, though you're unsure if he'll stay with you. he may go back. to yeosang and mingi. that thought makes your heart clench. monsters aren't born, they are made, hongjoong said. you're starting to understand what he meant.
you slip into the warehouse, but when you get to the desk jongho usually occupies, no one is there.
the warehouse is quiet, eerily so. no screams, no metal banging, no crickets chirping, nothing.
"looking for someone?"
hongjoong's voice sends shivers down your back. you spin on your heels, backing up immediately until your the back of your knees hit the desk.
hongjoong leans against the hall, blocking the way you came in, his arms crossed over his chest, his grin all teeth.
hongjoong lifts a hand, and wiggles an object in the air, dangling it in front of his face. for a moment, you can't tell what it is.
then you realize it's the radio. your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. did san...?
"i don't know what -"
"cut the bullshit," hongjoong says, smile dropping from his face, "i know you've been talking to mingi since you've gotten here. i wouldn't have expected any less from you, really. so we're going to either do this the hard way or the easy way. your pick."
monsters are made, you know. and maybe you left your last bit of empathy behind when you told san to let you go. you say, "if you want information on mingi and yeosang, i can give you that. you were right. they're liars."
hongjoong raises a brow, but the grin comes back brighter than ever. he says, "ah, i wasn't expecting this so soon. i thought i'd have to pull out at least a few fingernails before you started talking."
hongjoong raises an arm, waving you forward. you follow him. he drops his arm over your shoulders as you two walk out of the warehouse and back under the moonlight. the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end, from both hongjoong's heavy arm and the things in the sky above.
he leads you across the courtyard, through the laundry field, and towards one of the guard towers. hongjoong doesn't say a word all the while.
you try to duck out from under his arm, but he is heavy.
you say, "where are we going?"
hongjoong grins, and under the moonlight, the planes of his face is longer, shadows drawing exaggerated, jagged lines that bring chills down your spine. hongjoong leans close, mouth inches from your ear, and he sing-songs, "to see seonghwa."
just as you're coming up on the entrance to the guard tower connected to the wall, the metal door closed tight ahead of you, you ask, "where's...where's jongho?"
hongjoong chuckles, and it echoes around you, "he picked the hard way."
then hongjoong shoves you forward so hard you stumble onto your knees. you look up when you hear the clang of metal. the door swings open with a resounding thud.
it isn't seonghwa who opened the door, or even san, as a part of you dreaded.
with his head tucked and his eyes averted, jongho holds open the metal door. hongjoong crouches next to you, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulls your head back, back, back, until you're looking past jongho, looking up, at the stars and the moon and white things floating in the sky, just hovering in one place. not quite moving.
he says, and strangely enough, hongjoong's tone is gentle, kind, "take a good look. in case it's your last time."
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A hopeless confrontation with a hopeless demon.
Quarble, he's too fast. I've tried to dodge and weave and watch for openings but he nails me every time. No matter what I do, it's like he's right there, waiting for me to do it. I can't get away from him.
"Look, man. This is just a job. I'm not your therapist. Figure it out or don't."
You really don't have any ideas? You don't know anything or... have any suggestions I can use here?
How am I supposed to beat this guy, Quarble? Eleven times. He's gutted me eleven times. Yeah, okay, lesson learned about underestimating people, but I've been trying really hard. Was I wrong to think I could actually do this?
Maybe he was right. Maybe I'm at my limit. Maybe... this is where my journey ends.
"...push... through...."
Did you say something, Quarble?
"Yeah, I said 'If I don't get any Time Shards soon I'm bailing. Have fun getting dissected again.'
No, there was something... like a flicker....
"Hallucinations may be an occasional side effect of being gruesomely butchered, revived, and butchered again repeatedly in a short time period. I say 'may be' because most people give up and accept the sweet embrace of death well before it ever gets to this point."
"It's a mistake to rely on speed alone; It's too easy to push through. I figured that out early in our training. Zale learned it shortly after."
We go through.
I've been letting this job get in my head. Trying to be more cautious. Trying to be mindful. But the answer was right there in the fable. I need to stop running.
Luana spent her whole life sparring with a Blade Dancer. It's a style eerily similar to Brugaves's new demon style. To the point that it almost seems like a cruel joke for Aephorul to forge him this way.
Nobody knew better than her how to counter that style. And she wrote it down. You don't run away from a Blade Dancer. You go through.
If he's too fast for you, then he may just as easily be too fast for himself. All you have to do is stand your ground and let him strike himself upon your weapon.
I've been getting in my own head. Worrying about stupid things like safety and protecting myself. When I should have been asking the obvious question from the start.
What would Luana do?
Hey! Goat-licker. Imagine selling out the people who love you so you can be the Acolytes' gofer. I can't even be vindictive about it 'cause having to live like this is punishment enough.
Sure, you used to have respect, admiration, kids looking up to you with stars in their eyes, and a dedicated life-partner who'd do anything for you. But you're right, kissing the foot of a four-headed butt-chugger every morning is just as fucking good, isn't it?
You're a coward and a fool, Barma'thazel. You were barely any good as a Solstice Warrior. And now you're a bottom-feeding parasite living in a hellhole, clinging desperately to the one gift his master graced him with.
The goddess forgot about you long ago. She's over you. And I'm done running from you. Because I'm better than you.
It's called crippling overspecialization, ass-weevil. You'd think a general of an armed forces would be able to grasp a concept as basic as that. But I guess you're just too slow.
Hold up. Do you mean that in the figurative sense? Like, we are all pieces in a larger game that cares nothing for winners and losers, and so in the grand scheme of things we are all doo--
NOPE LITERAL SENSE VERY LITERAL SENSE GODDAMMIT
SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCK FUCK SHIT FUCK
WHY
WHY CAN'T I EVER JUST WIN SOMETHING
I LOOKED SO COOL BACK THERE
MY HAT WAS SET TO MAXIMUM AWESOME
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK
YEEEEEEEEEES Holy shit, thank you prophesized Lifesaver. Wentworth, you are a sight for sore eyes.
...wait, what?
...
Errors have been made. You know, I thought you looked a little small to be the colossal dragon that Luana wrote about but I just figured she'd embellished.
In any case, THANK YOU DRAGON BESTIE WOO FUCKING HOO
Let's blow this shithole and go home!
*deep breath*
In your name.
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i very much enjoyed the eventual explanation for Vin's Whole Deal but i also spent a good chunk of book one and two, (and maybe also more than a few idle moments in book three) waiting for a reveal that she was also a feruchemist. Just. There were so many parallels between her and the lord ruler, you know??
just thinking about the au...
a nice alternate explanation to her unnatural-even-for-a-mistborn grace, strength and power, just a bit better than she should be, and has such wild swings of fortune during a few of her fights because she's unconsciously storing up than releasing corresponding powers in her internal flakes.
of course it's taking her so long to realize - no one wears actual amounts of metal, so she's constantly burning her stores before they get large enough to be noticeable.
she was able to sense sazed's feruchemical store when she burnt it why would that be an allomantic ability i'm still kindof mad we didn't see her even TRY feruchemy anyway au
sazed teaching her...bonding moments...family...
funny moments where sazed and kelsier get weirdly competitive over who's got dibs on the daughter-he-never-thought-he'd-have
I am a SUCKER for zero-dads to multiple dad's trope...
(and thinking about how there HAD to be some feruchemy in the ska population, since the terris people weren't always so separate from the general population)
in addition to noblewoman, thief, mistborn, ska urchin - here's ANOTHER burden, ANOTHER heritage, ANOTHER identity - some pressure to be a Keeper, at least store the books, even if you do nothing else -
imagining reen as a feruchemist, constantly running from town to town because for some reason him, totally ska him, he can do things, things like a misting, but even more obvious, and allomantic vials just make him sick
unconscious feruchemy leading to mental instability (her mother). What happens when you store memories or mental attributes , but never get them back? you're just losing time and strength and willpower to the metal in your groundwater...and it's gone, passed through your body unless you happen to be an allomancer who can burn it back...
duralium-esque shenanigans during book two trying out the lord ruler's youth combo and accidentally making herself into a child. it's resolved eventually but there should have been AT LEAST a few chapters of 11 year old Vin mowing down assassins
HULK PEWTER VIN! HULK PEWTER VIN! FINALLY SHE ACTUALLY LOOKS AS DANGEROUS AS SHE IS! FIVE FOOT NOTHING HULK PEWTER VIN FIGHTING HAMM!!!!
infinite free health combo (somehow? i don't quite understand the mechanic, perhaps it's revealed somewhere else in sanderson books. is it just storing up health? seems like getting flayed would fuck that up. look, we know the lord ruler figured it out, since it's part of his whole Canon that he can't die, a Lot of people have tried)
ANYWAY I am also a fan of "unkillable" character trope where person starts getting too reckless during fights while enemies panic and their loved one's look on in horror because they're still getting hurt
All of the above does NOT help with the whole worshiping thing
staying awake for WAY too long with bronze earring...come on sanderson i know my girl was double deity op but consider if she was even MORE
FERUCHEMY IS OF BOTH PRESERVATION AND RUIN COME ON Y'ALL THINK ABOUT IT
...if it turns out there's an annotation in one of these books that she was actually a feruchemist but it never came up i don't know if i'd be more angry or more vindicated...if there is...okay people can spoil this one (1) thing...
aaah alas - it could have been so sick - feruchemist mistborn fight scene my beloved who shall never be...unless...
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𝔽𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤
So I was lovingly tagged by @residentdormouse who is great and awesome and indulgent of my bullshit. So away the shit does bull, I suppose jfkdl;safd
The rules are simple - find a sentence, or excerpt, that includes the words you're given and paste it in, and include a link to the finished story of you want. But honestly, guidelines at best - do what you want.
My words to find: White, Cold, Snow, Frost, Ice, Gloves, Hat, Cocoa (or Tea), Blanket, Snuggle/cuddle (or any variation of this)
No pressure tags: @caktusjuice-draws, @jaiesondurantkross, @beyondthetemples-ooc, and a massive Open Tag to anyone who wants to! I love seeing things y'all write <3
Your words are (really I'm just going off of moodboard vibes with a couple wild cards thrown in): Paper, Sunset, Natural, Leather, Bookmark, Steel, Chill, Ember, Storm, Makeshift.
Bullshit below the cut!
Okay, so some of these will be from published works, but several will likely be from the as-of-yet chaotically-unwritten remake of Second Lead Serenade. So it's a lot of Stand Shenanigans (tm) but I'll try to drop some other shit in, too. Just to keep things interesting. XD
White: (godfuckingdammit I was making fun of you for having so many Flagg references and the first one I got is a fucking Flagg reference. This one's from a bonus chapter from Serenade that hasn't made its way into the narrative just yet.)
“I went down to Saint James Infirm’ry…saw my baby there,” The voice croons under its breath. The predators may be gone, but the fear remains, and Piper finds that she doesn’t dare raise her head to see who belongs to the boots that draw slowly near. Didn’t Mother Abigail say something about wolves? Dark eyes in the night that were too eager to snap up good souls lost on their way? She had thought about how wolves were sacred to Odin, that not all were hungry and savage beasts, but that truth seems farther away now.
“She was stretched out on a long white table…” The voice goes on. “So cold, so sweet, so sweet, so fair.” The footsteps stop. The boots are only a foot or so away now, and the figure pauses before dropping to a squat. A warm glow lights the area around them as a hand comes into her field of vision, extended in invitation. “Hey there, Dani. Need a hand?”
Dani. No one’s been alive to call her that in weeks…maybe even months. All of the family and friends that had known her by that name are long dead. Her hair spills into her face as she dares to look up at last. Attached to that hand is a lean man with coiffed, sandy hair and a smile as sharp as glass. His eyes are pale, creased by the kindness of his expression, but she can’t shake the feeling that maybe the wolf had been in front of her all along. Dazedly, she puts her hand in his, allowing him to help her slowly to her feet. His skin burns against hers, and she stumbles when he claps a free hand on her shoulder.
Cold: (I wasn't gonna have Serenade be two for two, but honestly I couldn't resist the urge to shoehorn TedPipes into something. Teddy continues to be the Best Boi Ever, and poor Piper's just trying to drag herself out of her survivor's guilt jfkldsafd)
His worry comes off of him in waves. The last bits of her loathing have returned to their home in the hollow of her ribs, turning her stomach as it settles back into shame instead of rage. “I’m okay.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, energy all but spent. “I’m fine. It’s just…” She can’t find an explanation worth using. Trying to put this emotion to words feels like Sisyphus and his stone. Too much and not enough all at once. “...It’s just me.”
He studies her for a long moment, brow furrowing before he shifts to take his legs out from underneath him, sitting beside her on the ground instead. “...Wanna talk about it?” He asks. His radio hisses, someone’s voice reporting that a section is clear. He shifts, turning the device off with a telltale click.
“I…I don’t know.” She shakes her head, brushing a loose lock of hair out of her eyes. Her palm is scraped raw from her outburst, skin broken in a few places and stinging as dots of blood meet the cold air. “I don’t know where I’d even start.”
“Take your time.” He moves again, settling in at her side and leaning back against the tree. “Whatever you need. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
Frost: (Ohhhh I had to DIG to find this one. I don't use this word enough, I guess. This is an ooooold WIP of an original D&D-adjacent fantasy piece I was writing about a witch and a rogue finding some royal baby in a rosebush and having to figure out who and where to take it home to. Shenanigans Ensue.)
With such a blue cast to their coal-colored skin, Dark-Elves flush a shade of purple. This purple tinges his cheeks as he coughs, sitting up again as he splutters, “That...that isn’t any of your concern. The important thing is that I was at her estate and she had a need for my services. And we’ll get a tidy sum of gold out of her, so what’s the harm?”
“None at all...if you’re successful. If you’re not, you don’t live here. I’ll deny everything if her guard comes by to make you pay for ruining her land.” She decides with a hum, draining the last of her tea.
“How heartless, Ketta. After all I’ve done for you.” Despite his words, he laughs, reaching to fill her cup again.
“After all I’ve done for you, you mean. I got along just fine before you got here. And when you leave again, I’ll be all the more peaceful for it.” The banter is easy, playful, though her words ring true. Irren is a wanderer, and Ketsiyah a loner. Their arrangement is comfortable, she knows, because it’s temporary. He came into Thornfall just as the last frost was thawing, with half a year spent in the attic space above her home. The arrangement was that he would be gone by the time the first freeze came through.
Ice: (BirdBrains gets some representation! This is from Shine On You Crazy Diamond, the IT/The Stand crossover I've slowly been writing. Which.......I really ought to get back to. <.<;;;;)
“We all tried to find out what really happened--his friends and I, I mean. A bunch of kids looking for a fucking serial killer.” He chuckles wryly, only able to look at his and Crow’s joined hands. Their touch is the only thing anchoring him, he thinks. If he lets go, he might sink down into the pit again. Down in the dark, where It lived. “And I think we did find It eventually. But I can’t remember. I just remember how scared I was. And how badly we were hurt after. And I remember that we all made a promise that if we didn’t kill It like we thought…we’d have to come back. To finish the job.”
Silence falls between them as he finishes, and now, with all of the confusing, tangled pieces he has out in the open, Harold feels that ice-cold surety that he has finally, finally managed to find the one thing to say that would be Too Much. The final straw on the back of a camel that’s been struggling for the four years of their relationship. The one thing that even Crow’s infinite adaptability and determination couldn’t overcome. He can’t look at them, picking at his lower lip with his teeth.
“...It.” They say at last, putting the same weight on the word that he had. Not just a pronoun--it’s almost a title. A name for something so evil and so terrible that his mind goes utterly blank every time he tries to remember. “So this…murderer. This serial killer. You talk about It like It’s not a person at all.”
Gloves: (I was wondering when Between Iron and Silver would come into this one, but apparently I don't use this word enough either jfdkls;afd To summarize, this is an Undertale fic that's the answer to "what if a human fell into the Ruins and stayed?" and then it just...ran away from me. It's also my first foray into second-person writing, which is way more fun than I thought it'd be.)
At the edge of consciousness, you feel more than hear something snap, that ozone scent filling your senses before the weight vanishes, leaving you coughing and rolling to your side to curl around your stomach. As oxygen helps your mind to clear, you turn a little to see your assailant hovering a few feet above you, flailing and growling as they are held in place by some glowing blue force. They turn to roar at your companions, demanding to be released. As you struggle to catch your breath, you turn a little more to see that Sans has an arm raised in their direction, hand and left eye swirling with that same blue glow. Papyrus has one glove pressed against his mouth, eyes wide, looking between the guard and his brother.
“Undyne.” Sans speaks through gritted teeth, and you note that his non-glowing eye has gone pitch black. “Calm down. We’re not here about that--this is more important than Asgore’s manhunt. We’re here for help.”
“What the hell could be more important than this?!” Undyne--as you know her to be--growls, struggling anew against the force that holds her still. “This is our freedom, the only ticket we have to survive; don’t you want to get out of here?!”
“It’s about what happened to Alva.” His tone sharpens despite never raising his voice. “This human has seen it. We came here to get your help.”
At the mention of “Alva”, Undyne freezes, fixing him with a hard stare that he unabashedly returns. After a moment that feels like a lifetime, she goes limp.
“...Fine.” The conclusion sounds like a struggle. “Whatever. Just...put me down, Sans.”
Hat: (Ahhh the Fuckening. Serenade yet again, but a WIP chapter this time! I still haven't gotten around to the Fuckening itself, but I sure wanted to write down what happened after. If I ever write a fic chronologically, it'll be a cold day in hell.)
Teddy hasn’t moved since his first few hours in the clinic, laid in a bed in the main room under the rough hospital blankets and the unfinished crochet throw Piper had brought in for the chill of the night. The Free Zone’s newly-acquired electricity has been put to good use -- the steady rhythm of his heart monitor embedding itself into her thoughts as she tries to keep busy. Crow had been kind enough to bring some of their collective yarn stash and Piper’s bag of hooks, giving her a chance to try to work on the hats and scarves they were putting together for the town. Doing as much as she can to occupy her mind.
Two days, she thinks. The longest two days of her fucking life. Those old habits she’d built when Tripps was at its height have come back in full-force now -- numbly doing the bare minimum requirements of survival, following a set track and routine with no deviation. Filing her mind with tasks and media to avoid any thoughts toward the future or the dark what-ifs outside of her blinders. Much like it had with Tripps, this method works…for the most part.
When it doesn’t, it’s only in flashes -- the image of Teddy holding a bloodied hand to his stomach, the way he had clung to her as he collapsed, the shocked look on Nadine’s face as Piper had torn that gun out of her hands from twenty feet away--
No. No, no, no. Not that. Not now. Not ever. She shakes her head, pulling out a few stitches that her tension has made too tight. That didn’t happen. It can’t have happened. So she sweeps it aside, turns up the radio in her mind. Her next few stitches are much more even.
Cocoa/Tea: (Okay so it's more Serenade, but at least it's a Teddy chapter? Nostalgia and introspection abound during a chat with Mother A, while the plot continues to thicken.)
"It's a shitshow." Crow finishes matter-of-factly. "The whole world ended faster than any of us could blink, and no one's around to tell us how to pick up the pieces. And there are too many pieces around to pick up, anyway." Then, clearing their throat, they add a little more sheepishly, "...Sorry for swearing."
The older woman only laughs, shaking her head. "Don't you worry about that--I'm old enough and wise enough to know when polite words simply don't suffice. You're absolutely correct. Now that we're done running around like chickens with our heads cut off, it's hard to tell what way is up."
Teddy can’t remember the last time he’d had tea, he thinks, listening to the exchange. At least, not the kind that didn’t come in a big teal can that he could pick up for a dollar at 7-11. For an absurd moment as he picks up his cup for a sip, he’s reminded of afternoons spent with his sisters and their dollar-store tea set made from pink plastic and poorly-painted flowers. It’s an effort to keep from sticking his pinkie finger out, mind replaying their indignant cries of it being “the right way”. The nostalgia makes his chest ache. The drink itself is nothing to write home about, as far as his coffee-saturated palate is concerned. A little weak, a little earthy. Probably needing sugar. He reaches for the carafe.
“But you must have some thoughts about how things ended up the way they did. Mr. Bateman thinks it’s human folly. Ray says it’s divine providence. You know how I feel about the divine, but the Lord’s messages to me are more concerned about ‘how’ than ‘why’. What do you all think about it? Why here? Why us?”
Blanket: (ughhhh this one was tough! It isn't that I haven't used this word a lot, but it's never in places that are like. Interesting to share. Except for that post-fuckening excerpt I've already referenced. So back to Iron and Silver I go! Our nameless protag has a mission and they're gonna see it through, no matter how worried their adopted mother gets.)
Not wanting to wake your hosts, you pull the blanket from the next hook on the door, slipping out into the chill night. The lights still bathe the town in warm, inviting light, the snow muffling signs of life to near-silence as you draw the blanket around your shoulders. Steeling yourself for the scolding of the century, you flip the phone open, letting out a deep breath and watching it fog the air before you. “...Hello?”
“Where are you?” Toriel’s voice is a comfort despite the frightened sharpness to her voice. “Are you all right? Has anyone found you? Describe where you are--I’ll find you as soon as I’m able.”
The questions are fast, going past your attempts to interrupt until you find a breath’s space to break in. “Mom. Momma, I’m fine. I promise. I’m safe, don’t worry.”
A beat of silence follows. “My dearest child, what do you think you are doing?” Her voice sounds so small, so vulnerable that you feel a lump forming in your throat. “This world is so cold. So unforgiving. If Asgore finds you, if one of his soldiers catches wind of a human, not even I can protect you. It’s still very early; you should be able to return before anything should happen.”
“And what, wait for someone else to figure out what’s going on?” The sharpness you hear from your tone shocks you, shaking your head as you try to force your voice into something more gentle. “I mean...that last cave-in was right in front of our door. And that poor Migosp...Momma, it’s getting closer. It’s getting worse. I can’t let it keep going. And it’s happening out here, too--someone I met has seen it--”
“You met someone?” She breaks in, that fear never leaving her voice. “Who? How far did you get?”
Cuddle/Snuggle: (I have only just now realized I have never used either of these words. Like. Ever. I guess I've been focusing WAY too much on the pining and not enough on the actual smoochies, so here, have a cute TedPipes-flavored thing from the unfinished next-chapter of Shine On. The Derry kids come home, and realize that they'd forgotten a little too much in their time away.)
She turns, fixed by the familiarity of the stranger standing behind her. He’s almost a head taller than her, with dark curly hair and a warm smile that crinkles the edges of pale blue eyes. “You make for a terrible door.” he goes on, gesturing to her with one hand as the other slips into the pocket of his jacket.
“Teddy?” The name brings a younger face to her mind, bright and freckled and just a little bucktoothed. In a flash she remembers laying in the floor of her bedroom listening to her sister’s old record player, sitting in a dark movie theater waiting for the previews of some new movie to end, and swinging off of a rope into the water at the quarry…never more than an arm’s length away from the one kid who insisted that no one should spend summer break alone.
He’s older now, but still has that mischievous light in his eyes. “Hey, Piper. Been a while.”
“Holy shit,” Her tension is forgotten completely as she meets him in a hug that smells of cigarette smoke and cologne. The pure warmth she feels is unmistakable, beaming as she pulls back just enough to look up at him. “God, look at you.” She breathes, realizing that time has done him incredibly well. Those freckles are still there, but time has given them some softness, as well as a softness around his eyes and mouth. He’s really grown into himself, features and posture much stronger than she remembers. Oh no, she thinks. Puberty hit Weizak like a Mack truck.
“Look at you.” He returns with a self-conscious laugh, arms still looped around her back. Her heart is still racing, she finds, trying and failing to find words to say that encompass the strength of emotions running through her.
#Fef writes One (1) ship forever: news at 11#But for real I really tried to dig deep to find some more obscure pieces but like. I'm highkey embarrassed of my old writing jfkdl;safd#not like writing quality. I just write some stupid shit for fandoms sometimes#anyways this was super fun though??? I read back through fics I haven't touched in ages; I need to dig through my old docs again#fef writes
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Journey to the Past Ch 22
Bryan Kneef x reader
Sorry this one took so damn long to get out. I kept getting stuck with it and working out the logistics of everything for this chapter. plus like... life... am i right? ANYWAYS, here ya go. enjoy this chapter. we enter the final plot arc now.
“Bryan!” Your shriek turned into a giggle as the man wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you flush to him, his lips burying into your neck as they made home against your skin.
“What?” He chuckled, teeth scraping into you and you let out a soft moan, followed by a laugh as your hand tugged into his hair, pulling him off you.
“I have to go!”
“Oh come on.” He nearly whined, “it’s just a girl’s night.”
“And we spent half the morning fucking.” You laughed, turning in his arms to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’ve barely seen Kim this month. Besides…” you kissed him once more, “it’ll give me a chance to go through my apartment, see what I’m moving in versus what I’ll give away.”
“Fine.” He grinned, cupping your chin in his hand with a wicked grin, “I’ll accept that.”
“Thought you might.” With a grin you popped up on your toes to kiss him again before squeezing at his arm, “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He left a kiss on the tip of your nose that you let out a giggle at before you were finally able to turn from the apartment and disappear down the hallway to embark on your evening plans.
*
You managed to get to your place with enough time to spare, ordering some take out that would get there shortly after Kim would and cracking a bottle of wine that you poured a glass out of to drink in the meantime. You meandered into the bedroom, starting to make sure all of your personal belongings were removed, sorting through the clothes you’d left to either take home or be donated. It wasn’t long after that that you heard the knock on the door, followed by Kim’s voice and you called out to let her know you were in the bedroom.
“What’s…. going on?” She asked with a raised brow as she perched in your bedroom doorway, eyeing the piles of clothes and belongings strewn across the bed.
“Figured I should take some time to clean my shit out and you could probably help with that.” You gestured to the bottle of wine and empty glass, “grab some wine.”
“Oh fuck, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, I should probably wait for dinner first.”
“Raid the fridge?” You suggested, “grab a non booze drink or some snacks?”
“You’re an angel.” She shot you a grin before darting off down the hallway, returning with a sparkling water and a power bar, settling at the foot of your bed, “So… you just get the urge to clean out or?”
“Well…” You grinned at her, pausing for a sip of wine, “I’m trying to downsize a bit, not really with the clothes but more with the other shit. And to figure out what I own that are super personal versus stuff I’d be okay with strangers being around on a regular basis.”
“What are you talking about?” She laughed and you felt a brief heat sink into your cheeks.
“I’m moving into Bry’s place.”
“Are you serious!?”
“Oh don’t sound so shocked!” You laughed.
“I just didn’t ever see you selling this place!”
“I’m not, at least not yet.” You laughed, tossing another pair of pants into a suitcase, “I still kinda want my own space, I figured I’ll list it on Airbnb, that way I can control who and when stay here and when I’ll be able to have time on my own, or if we wanna have a super drunk weekend or something.”
“I mean… that’s probably the smartest choice, you can make bank with that shit.”
“Exactly.”
“He really asked you to move in?” Kim took a sip of her drink, casting you a knowing look and you rolled your eyes.
“Are you judging?” You suddenly stalled, “oh god. Do you think it’s a bad idea?”
“No!” She shot back, “I think it’s a fucking great idea. Have you guys talked about any more of a future yet or is that like, on the back burner?”
“A bit of both.” You laughed, your head shooting down the hall as a loud knock echoed through your apartment, “I guess the rest of this will have to wait.” You tossed down a pair of pants, “movie and dinner?”
“Always.” Kim shot you a grin, following you down the hall and picking up what you’d need from the kitchen for dinner before making herself at home on the couch and picking out a movie while you paid for the take out.
You brought the bag to the coffee table and started to scoop things out onto plates, the two of you splitting things up as evenly as you could before settling into the movie Kim had picked. Conversation flowed easily between the two of you, commentary on the movie while you complimented the food, digging into takeout containers for more. You fell into the usual routine, laughter taking over when you weren’t paying full attention to the movie. It was a few hours later, the movie over, you were on your second glass of wine, about to offer Kim one when you noticed.
“You still nursing that Perrier?”
“It’s been a weird week.” She laughed, practically avoiding your gaze and you smacked at her leg.
“What is going on?” You asked and she took a heavy breath, letting it out slowly.
“Something that I really don’t want to do but I need your help with.”
“Okay?” You raised a brow in her direction and she huffed, her shoulders sagging before looking up at you in defeat, “do we need to immediately rephase into attorney client privilege or is it something else?”
“I think I’m late…”
“Like your period?”
“Yeah.” She huffed, “I forgot to track last month’s so I’m not sure when this one’s supposed to come and I’ve lost track of time and have no clue anymore. Plus the guy I’m seeing… it’s just super casual, he doesn’t want anything past a casual relationship and I’m fine with that, but this would throw a loop into things…”
“Okay, well you don’t have to really worry about things yet.” You assured her, squeezing at her hand, “either give it another week and wait for your period, or we can run down to the store and get a test for you to take now.”
“I’ve already got one…” She admitted, glancing up to you with a sheepish look on her face, “I think I’m just way too up in my head and freaked out to want to do it.”
“You could wait the week?”
“And send my stress levels through the roof?” She laughed, “I don’t think that’s ideal.”
“Okay, then…You know where the bathroom is.”
“Yeah, but they only sell these things in multiple packs and I’m trying not to freak out, don’t make me be the only one, please….so what do you say?”
“That you’re being ridiculous, but you’re lucky I have two bathrooms.”
“Oh thank fucking god.” Kim let out a heavy breath, “I just like, didn’t know what to do and then this tik tok trend popped up where groups of friends all take—”
“Babe… do you seriously think I have enough time to engage in tik tok?”
“You’re right.” She barked out a laugh, moving from the couch to dig through her purse. She pulled out the box, ripping it open and handing you a wrapped test.
“Take the hallway bathroom, we’ll set a timer, I’m sure it’s fine.” You gave her arm a squeeze and shot her a reassuring smile before you made your way into the bedroom and crossed through to the en suite.
This certainly wasn’t the first time a friend had come to you freaking out about something like this, or even asking you about your own experience. So with someone like Kim, you weren’t about to tell her no, she was your best friend and you finally knew why she had been acting so weird all week. You didn’t take long, popping the top off the test and quickly doing what you needed to do before putting the cap back on and wandering back out to the main part of the apartment to be the emotional support you knew would be needed. Wondering if Kim would finally be wanting wine or if it would be a night of non alcoholic fun. You placed your test down on the island, letting out a soft sigh as you refilled your wine glass, picking up your phone to kill the time. You smiled at a couple of texts from Bryan, shooting off a couple of replies to him, a few about how you couldn’t wait to come home to him daily, and it didn’t take long after that for things to get dirty.
“Sorry.” Kim’s voice nearly made you jump, her own test sliding onto the counter across the sink from yours, “I may or may not have freaked out again.”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about.” You assured her, squeezing at her arm, “besides, this is just step one, you never know what’s going to happen after this and there are always a million ways things can go.”
“I guess.” She let out a huff, taking a swig of her soda right before the alarm on your phone went off and she nearly jumped, looking to you, “fuck, do I really have to?”
“Just flip it over.” You let out a chuckle.
“Fine.” Kim shot you a glare before doing so, her eyes settling on the small stick before she let out a heavy sigh of relief, “oh thank fucking god!”
“See! You’re fine!” You swatted at her arm, handing her a glass of wine and she laughed, glancing toward your unturned test.
“Are you gonna look?”
“I don’t see why.” You laughed, but you turned back to it, flipping it over and it suddenly felt like your entire world stilled at the sight of a little pink plus sign staring back at you. You felt absolutely frozen, pure shock taking over your entire system as your eyes widened briefly before you finally felt like you could breathe again. You blinked a couple of times, making sure you weren’t seeing something before you finally spoke, Kim’s relief not even realizing your awkwardness. “Are you sure yours was on that side of the sink?”
“What?” She glanced up over the rim of her wine glass, her eyes widening over the panic written across your face.
“Did you put your test down on that side of the sink or did you move around afterwards?”
“I… I don’t think so. I came in, put it down and waited.. I think?” She winced, “why?” You let out a heavy breath, running a hand over your face.
“Because this one’s positive.” You flipped the test over to face her and she let out a small gasp.
“Oh fuck.”
“Where did you get these?”
“CVS.”
“So like, not the dollar store?”
“No.” She laughed, “but I’ve heard they’re all the same accuracy…”
“This has to be a false positive.” You murmured, “fuck, oh fuck… you said these came in packs, right?”
“Yeah…” Kim replied cautiously, placing her wine glass down on the island, “you think we should do a round two?”
“Well considering this says that one of us is pregnant, yeah, I do.”
“I’m like ninety eight percent sure that I put mine down on this side.” She gestured to the island, “like you said, it’s probably a false positive, I mean, when was your last period?”
“I don’t keep track.” You admitted with a huff.
“Are you serious?”
“Kim! I’ve got shitty ovaries, or a uterus or whatever, my periods have been all over the place for like, ten years. I miss them regularly; it’s never been a concern.”
“Are you and Bryan using condoms?”
“No.” You groaned, “why would we?! Once we said we were exclusive it went out the window.” You let out a weary sigh, “what the fuck?”
“Hey, hey…” Kim grabbed at your arm, “you’re lucky these things come in packs…” she rustled through her bag for a minute, pulling out the box once again, “round two.”
“Christ…” You muttered, taking one of the tests from her before you both retreated back to the bathrooms you’d been in prior.
This time when you returned to the kitchen, the air was much more tense, only a few words exchanged between the two of you as you waited for the timer to go off. When it did you both let out a low breath, flipping over the very separated tests to make sure you knew whose was whose.
“Oh my god…” You whispered, a hand coming up to your mouth as the bright plus sign stared back at you, “this… I think this is actually real…” Kim’s hand came up to yours, gently taking the test from you as she flipped it to look at it.
“Oh shit….” She muttered, “you’re pregnant…”
“Yeah…” You glanced up at her, “I really didn’t think it was ever possible…. I mean they told me it wasn’t…”
“Maybe it’s a fluke… like you said.” She squeezed at you hand, “call your doctor, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Oh I know.” You huffed out a breath, a million thoughts swirling around in your brain, going a mile a minute, “it just seems so fucking surreal.”
“Does Bryan want kids?” She asked and you were suddenly sent crashing back to reality, remembering it wasn’t just your future you were thinking of.
“Oh god… I… I don’t even know. We very briefly talked about it, he seemed wary…. But maybe?”
“Okay, forget I asked.” She grabbed your arm, tugging you away from the tests and back toward the couch, “we’re gonna forget all of this, you’re going to make a doctor’s appointment and we’re going to finish this take out and watch the rest of this movie, okay?”
“Okay…” you let out a soft sigh, dropping down onto the couch beside her, letting yourself get distracted with the media in front of you rather than dwell on your thoughts and worries.
*
Bryan was in the kitchen, packing up his own dinner into Tupperware and doing a couple of dishes, rinsing out the bowl while he tried to decide if he was having another glass of wine or was going to swap to scotch. The noise from the front door pulled his attention, glancing up, his brow furrowing as you appeared around the corner, dropping a duffle bag onto the floor with a little sigh.
“I didn’t expect you home tonight.” He greeted with a warm smile, crossing through the space to kiss you softly.
“Guess I just missed you.” You replied with a soft smile, pecking him gently before moving through the room slowly.
“Wine?” He asked, crossing back to the island and lifting the bottle in your direction, causing you to stall, shaking your head.
“No, thank you.” You gave him your best smile, “I’m not feeling great.”
Bryan’s head shot up to look at you, watching the way you dropped against the arm of the couch, letting out a gentle sigh and he crossed the room to you a hand gently cupping at your cheek, “you okay sweetheart?”
“Yeah.” You smiled, leaning into the embrace, “just tired.”
“Alright.” He leant in, kissing you tenderly and you hummed against his lips, tugging him back for a second.
“Can…. can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” His thumb stroked across your cheek; his eyes soft as he gazed across at you.
“You want a future here, right?” You glanced up to him, your heart beating a million miles a minute as you did your best not to hold your breath.
“Are you fucking with me?” Bryan laughed, “of course I do. You’re all I ever wanted….”
“Okay.” You let out a shaky breath, smiling at the way he squeezed at your hand, “I just… fuck, Bry,” you let out a small laugh, sinking further into the arm of the couch as Bryan moved forward, his hand continuing to stroke at your cheek. “I don’t want to freak you out or anything, and I know it’s fast and kinda weird, we haven’t technically been together that long..”
“But time doesn’t really mean anything?” He murmured with a raised brow and you laughed softly.
“No, no it doesn’t.” You let out a breath, the wheels in your head spinning as you tried to put your words together. Considering how he’d reacted to a minor inconvenience before you were serious when you said you didn’t want to freak him out, and something like this might send him running for the hills. Kim was right, you should wait until after going to the doctor to bother bringing it up, there was still a decent chance it was false, you sighed, glancing back up at Bryan and you could feel the adoration pouring from his eyes onto you, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I love you, and I love you more than anyone ever. I don’t need you to say the same back right now but there is no one else in the world I would rather spend the rest of my life with.”
Bryan let out a soft chuckle, nuzzling against you softly, “if you want me to buy you a ring, I will.” His lips hit yours softly, “because you are, without a doubt, the absolute love of my life, and I would give everything to spend my life with you.”
“I don’t need a ring.” You laughed softly, your hand coming up to catch his cheek, redirecting his next kiss to your lips, “but how about some cuddles? I honestly am fucking exhausted.”
“Whatever my girl wants, she gets.” Bryan smiled, kissing you gently before helping you up and guiding you down the hallway.
You couldn’t help but smile at the way he helped you out of your clothes, shifting you into comfortable pyjamas, making sure you were okay, a bottle of water by your bedside before he changed himself. He then wrapped you in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your head, his hands ghosting over your body until they settled in a very affectionate manner. You weren’t totally sure, but you thought that you might have fully broken into Bryan Kneef’s soft side, one that wasn’t going to be reserved for just you anymore.
As you finally drifted off to sleep your thoughts shifted from whether Bryan would be as receptive to this news as you were or if he would go against his word and disappear out of your lives to ones of a long happy future with him. He had you tucked so tightly in his arms, nuzzling you deeper into the embrace with each breath, lips gently brushing against the top of your head, you felt safe, protected and most importantly, loved. And exactly where you needed to be.
__________________
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Talk to Me | Ch. 12
Fic Summary: Phoenix isn’t sure she made the right call in leaving Maverick and Rooster behind on the mission. Rooster, Bob, and Hangman try to cheer her up, in their own, very different ways.
Pairings: Past Natasha “Phoenix” Trace x Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, Natasha “Phoenix” Trace x Jake “Hangman” Seresin
Warnings: Mention of character death (past)
A/N: Hangman has some things to get off his chest
In case you chose to skip Chapter 11, here's the part that matters to what happens next!
It’s a few moments before the water runs again. Casting around for something to distract her, Natasha goes back to how amazing his bed feels. Nothing like her thin quilt, rough fleece blanket, and stiff sheets. A sneaking suspicion starts to form and by the time he returns, she’s fairly sure she’s right.
“You brought your own sheets to Top Gun?” she asks incredulously.
Hangman shrugs sheepishly. “Thought a comfortable night’s sleep would give me an edge. Guess not.”
Between his confession and the sight of him propping her foot on his bare, shapely thigh within reach of his well hung dick, Natasha loses it. He watches with bemusement as she laughs hysterically, rolling from side to side on his probably 400 plus thread count duvet. No wonder he’d refused to let her near his bed after she’d been barefoot on the beach.
“Na na na na na na na na,” she sings to the ceiling. “Sheets of Egyptian cotton.”
He freezes. Natasha catches herself too late and quickly sits up on her elbows. “Shit. Sorry. It’s this song from a Brittany Murphy movie that my sister and I used to watch. Your sheets just…" Embarrassed, she realizes it's a long story that won't make much more sense even after she explains it. Trying to recover, she babbles, "She was this actress in the nineties and early two thousands who did a bunch of Rom-Coms–and 8 Mile–but then she died kind of young.”
His lips twist in a strange smile, and he pats her calf. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, Phoenix?”
Mortified, Natasha lowers her leg. The room is awkwardly quiet while he washes and dries her other foot before going back to the bathroom. This time he shuts the door.
She’s a little relieved a moment later when she hears him start to pee. They’ve spent most of the time since they first met goading one another or standing off so he probably wasn’t expecting something so ridiculous from her. So much for letting her hair down around him. Although that probably wasn't at all what he'd meant anyway, considering where the night had led. Her embarrassment deepens.
Natasha wishes she hadn’t left everything at The Hard Deck. Now she’s stranded in Hangman’s room or downstairs until Rooster gets back with her stuff. Although she’s pretty sure they’ve figured out why she and Hangman suddenly disappeared, she’d rather not have to acknowledge anything to Payback and Fanboy. Bob has enough discretion to give her a hard time about it for a minute and then let it go, but she'll need Hangman's password to text him. Suddenly, very aware that she’s sitting in Hangman’s bed completely naked, she pulls her knees up to her chin.
After what seems like forever, but really isn’t too long, Hangman emerges. “I can’t believe you think I don’t know who Brittany Murphy is,” he snickers, picking up his boxer briefs from the floor and putting them back on. “‘You’re a virgin who can’t drive’ is a classic.”
"You dickhead," Natasha laughs, a little high with relief. One fuck, and she becomes so gullible.
He gathers up her clothes, along with his shirt and jeans. “I guess it’s early enough we could go back to The Hard Deck, if you want. Let me check where the guys are.” Hangman pulls his phone out of his back pocket then frowns. “What the fuck?”
"What?"
“Holy shit.” He grips the front of his hair. She suddenly has an inkling about what he might be looking at and braces herself as he swipes the phone open.
Mouth agape, he looks up at her. “Jesus Christ! Fucking Rooster!” he shouts. “He must have bought the whole goddamn bar a round on my tab!”
Hangman taps his screen then scowls. Natasha’s stomach plummets, remembering her texts to Rooster are likely at the top of his messages.
She hadn’t really considered having this confrontation naked. Or so soon. Or on her own. Shit.
Chapter 12
When Hangman looks up at her again all his anger has deflated, replaced by something much, much worse. His hand falls to his side. He tries to keep his face impassive, but the twitch in his jaw reveals how deeply he’s been hurt.
“Hangman. Seresin–,” Natasha tries. Nothing sounds right. “Dickhead” and “Bagman” seem too mean given what she’s done and “Jake” like she’s taking advantage of what happened.
“Can’t say I don’t deserve it,” he cuts her off. The hollow cheeriness in his voice opens a void in her abdomen.
Would he believe her if she told him that she’d wanted the hook up as much as he had and that it wasn't just to lure him away from The Hard Deck? Before she can figure out what to say, he asks, “So Rooster was in on it too?
Although he attempts to sound disinterested, something simmers beneath the surface of his composure. She might not have thought anything about the question if this weren’t the second time he’d brought up the other pilot. He can’t seem to help himself, which isn’t like Hangman. He’s too good at pushing other people’s buttons to show his own.
Feeling self-conscious about having this conversation naked, she holds out her hand. “May I have my stuff please?”
Hangman flings her dress and underwear into her lap then stomps over to the dresser with his clothes. It’s obvious that she’s avoiding his question, but she’s never seen him so openly agitated. Natasha feels bad that she didn’t expect him to be this upset, but she’s also starting to wonder if this is about what happened at The Hard Deck or something else. There’s a loaded silence between them while she gets dressed and he meticulously folds first his shirt then his jeans. He’s clearly not going out again.
Deciding that the best course, for now, is to try to leave Rooster out of it, she finally says, “I was the one who wanted to trick you into putting your phone on the bar tonight. But I started improvising when we left The Hard Deck and should have thought through what that would look like. I didn’t mean for it to seem like, um, all of this, was only a distraction. Especially after what you said on the beach. That was–nice.”
He turns to face her and she’s not prepared for the stab of pain his expression sends through her chest. Every drawn line in his forehead and cheeks echoes with the quiet devastation she saw there when Maverick chose him as the spare. He crosses his arms over the chest she was just worshipping, but it seems more like a last resort of protection rather than his usual show of confidence.
“Then why did you do it?”
Her mouth goes dry at the way he drops the words like each is an explosive meant to blow open whatever it is that’s hanging between them. Bullshitting him will only make things worse, but Natasha hates that she’s flying blind, unable to see where he’s driving her with this. The challenge in his glare tells her he knows her answer and is daring her to say it aloud.
A cold prickle on the back of her neck warns her to proceed carefully, but she can’t help bristling at the sense now that he’s deliberately withholding something from her. “I think you know when you’ve been an asshole, Bagman,” she sighs. “We were going to let you sweat a little then cover it.”
“So I’m the only one who’s ever been an asshole then, huh?”
Natasha wishes she’d abandoned the plan when it was clear their night at The Hard Deck was over. What did any of them get from a whopping charge on his credit card? And she can’t blame him for taking what she did personally. It was stupid.
“I’m sorry.” She hopes he can hear how truly sorry she is. “I shouldn’t have taken it that far.” But somehow her apology makes things worse, and his hurt morphs back into anger that rolls off him in chilling waves. This has to be about more than racking up a bunch of drinks on his tab. He has too much of a sense of humor to blow something like that out of proportion, even if it annoys him.
Natasha braces herself because she can’t remember Hangman losing control like this before. Rather than back down, like she should to let him cool off, she decides to pull the pin. Whatever he’s been holding back, she’s about to find out.
“What does Rooster have to do with this?”
He nods as if she’s finally landed where he wants her to. “Well, if we’re talking about assholes, Phoenix. You didn’t have anything to say when he got us kicked out of Mugshots for punching me. Or the time he screamed at you in the Navy Exchange food court. So you tell me, why is me being one such a problem for you?”
“Are you serious?” She pushes her limp bangs out of her face and barely holds in a snort. This would be funny if he weren’t livid. “That was almost ten years ago.”
Of course they remember that night at the bar in Meridian differently. Admittedly, Rooster was hammered before they got there. That was when he dealt with the anniversary of his mother’s death by literally blacking it out. Hangman took it upon himself to rub in a bad day in the air and the two started in on one another. More like Rooster started shouting. Their mothers came up, and then they were throwing blows before Natasha could push through the crowd to haul her drunk friend away. As for the time Rooster screamed at her…well, that was the day she found out they weren’t on the same page about what friends with benefits means. And he’d apologized for it thoroughly, in multiple ways, later.
Hangman’s jaw muscles ripple with frustration at her dismissal. “And the first thing he said to me when he got here was I look good!” His voice rises when she scrunches her nose in bewilderment. “That wasn’t almost ten years ago and you didn’t say shit then either because you always take his side. Even when he’s in the wrong.”
The Mugshots fight left Hangman with a black eye and a shaved patch around the stitches in his scalp. And yes, Bradshaw had been an ass and rubbed it in when he saw, telling Hangman he looked good. To which Seresin had responded sarcastically, I am good. But that was pretty much how they said hello from then on.
Natasha has a hard time not rolling her eyes with impatience. “So, we’ve all wanted to punch Bradshaw once or twice.”
“And the point is you haven’t!” Hangman is nearly yelling as he points at her. “Because you always stick up for him. Give him a big hug every goddamn time he throws a tantrum about mommy, daddy, and Maverick.”
“Jesus Christ, Seresin! Do you hear yourself,” she snaps, throwing up her hands. “What the fuck is your problem? Are you jealous? Mad Maverick picked him over you? Mad I fucked him first?”
Hangman sneers. “I’m not jealous of a pity fuck, Phoenix,” he spits out. He’s been a jerk plenty of times, maybe even gone as far as being insensitive, but he’s never sounded so cruel. The words smart like a slap across her face.
Natasha clenches her fists. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t fuck people because I feel sorry for them.” His hands are on his hips, and he’s breathing hard. It’s a low blow, at her and Rooster.
She falls back a step then plants her feet. Her heartbeat pounds in her ears, drowning out every alarm in her head warning her to stop. “Yeah,” she seethes, “you know what? Sometimes Rooster can be a little shit. And maybe because he lost his dad when he was three and watched his mom suffer painfully trying to hold on until he was an adult, I let some things slide. Because I can’t imagine what that’s like, but at least I have an ounce of empathy for what that would do to someone! But you know what he doesn’t do?” She blows past Hangman's darkening scowl.
“Rooster doesn’t belittle me. He doesn’t set his wingmen up to fail in front of our superiors just to prove how good he is, that he’s better than they are. He’s not selfish like you. He doesn’t always put himself first or only think about what’s best for him. He actually cares about other people and how they feel.” Even as she says it, the fair part of her acknowledges that's an unreasonable and harsh comparison, but possibly proving his point about protecting Rooster only heightens the adrenaline pumping through her.
“So no, I don’t fuck people because I feel sorry for them. I fuck them because they respect me. I fuck them because they’re usually a good person. I fuck them because they’re a mind blowing fuck. Is that what you want to know? How you measure up to Rooster? Or is this one more thing that you can’t wait to throw in his face? Because I swear, if you hurt him with this Hangman, I will make you regret it every time I see you or even hear your name.”
She’s short of breath from yelling and getting choked up on her own anger, desperately fighting not to cry in front of him. “I hate making mistakes. I really hate it. I’m sorry I charged a round on your card. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could take back this whole night because this was all a huge fucking mistake. I wish we’d never done–this!”
Natasha flings her arm out at the room, at him, at every stupid decision that led to this colossal misjudgment. Blinking back tears, she looks around for her shoes. They’re huddled in a pile with his. She storms over and kicks his shoes aside.
“You know what your problem is?” His voice is so cold it sends a shiver down her back. She’s never heard him use that tone. “You think you’re nice. You think you’re a good friend, someone who does the right thing and knows it all.”
Natasha straightens slowly, clutching her heels to her stomach. “But you know what?” Hangman’s face is flushed and contorted as he lays into her. “You have never given me any of the benefit of the doubt that you give Rooster, or anyone else if we’re being honest. At least I own I can be an asshole but you, you walk around like you’re some kind of damn saint. And you’re not. You’re not because you can be a real fucking bitch, Phoenix.”
He’s trying to keep himself together. But his chin trembles and his voice falters and cracks. “You have the nerve to talk about empathy when you looked me in the fucking face this afternoon and accused me of keeping my sister a secret. Colleen’s not a secret. My sister isn’t a secret, Phoenix. She’s dead! Colleen’s dead, and she’s been dead for the entire time we’ve known each other but you never bothered to know that about me. You never let anything slide for me or took my side or even thought I might be more than just some asshole. So don’t tell me who’s selfish or who’s so vain because you’re the one assuming I give some kind of damn about who else you have sex with.”
Hangman couldn’t have delivered a harder gut punch if he’d rammed his fist point blank into her stomach. Natasha nearly drops her shoes. “And for the record, maybe you didn’t like how I did it but someone had to get Rooster out of his head so he didn’t get himself or anyone else killed, and you and Maverick were too busy worrying about his stupid, fragile feelings to do anything yourselves.”
There’s a ringing in the air, or maybe her ears, like a detonation went off. She half expects the room to shake or dust to fall from the ceiling. Instead, the stillness is suffocating. Hangman hangs onto the dresser like he isn’t sure which way is up without it.
“I’m going to wait downstairs,” she says. Her voice sounds small and too loud all at once.
“I think that’s a good idea.”
Before the door fully closes behind her, Natasha knows she owes Seresin an apology. For what she said, for what she didn’t say, for what she didn’t ask. Or, in his words, bother to know. She needs to say she’s sorry but she can’t wrap her head around how right he is about her.
Besides, she’s probably the last person he wants to talk to right now. Natasha scrubs at the flow of tears running down her face on her way to the rec room. At first she turns on the light but the fluorescent bulbs add a lurid edge to all of the failures Hangman has just pointed out. The empty dimness is no better. It reminds her that she’s supposed to be with him right now, possibly going for another round or being carried back to The Hard Deck while laughing into the nape of his neck as he teases her about being a koala for the grip her legs have around his waist.
She puts her shoes back on and retrieves the remote out of the couch cushions where it must have been shoved before they went upstairs to harass her about braiding her hair. Remembering the way Hangman had touched it, she runs her fingers through the ends. Why hadn’t she asked him more about his sister then? The door was wide open.
There isn’t much on the television’s basic cable channels. She’s not in the mood for Law and Order: SVU or TVLand reruns of Sanford and Son.
After watching an eternity of twenty minutes drag by on the clock, Natasha decides she may as well walk back to The Hard Deck. Her reflection in the windows is faint but enough to tell her that after the cool night air and a few minutes in the bathroom, she won’t look too much like she’s had the night she has.
Catching sight of her reflection again in the glass doors on her way out, she finds a little comfort. With her finger combed hair, bare lips, and smudged eye makeup, she looks a lot more Natasha than Phoenix.
The walk back takes her longer than she expects, and her feet are complaining in her stupid shoes by the time she makes it to the parking lot. A motorcycle pauses on its way out.
“Phoenix?”
Natasha almost throws her head back because she didn’t think her night could get any worse. Out of uniform, she doesn’t have to salute Maverick but she does stand at attention and acknowledges him with a nod. “Evening, sir.”
The captain idles his bike and drops a foot to the pavement. “What are you doing out here?” She’s embarrassed by the mild concern in his voice and the way he cranes to look around her, presumably for Hangman.
“Just getting some fresh air, sir.”
Maverick cocks his head, keen eyes sweeping over her. “I was heading out to grab a bite to eat. You’re welcome to join.” Natasha debates sitting across the table from her recent commanding officer and going back in to face her friends and a crowded bar. Before she can decide, he does it for her. “Hop on. My treat. You’ll feel better after a burger. Unless you’re vegetarian.”
He grins at his poor joke.
“I’m not a vegetarian,” she admits, taking the hand he offers to help her onto the bike. The strangeness of having to wrap her arms around him almost makes her bail for The Hard Deck. “You should probably consider a car if you’re offering woman subordinates a ride.”
“I’m sure our superiors would have the same thought, Lieutenant Trace,” he calls over the revving of the bike as he kicks off. The wind whips her hair around her face as they speed away. She ducks her head behind the shield of his back. Well, it’s not like anyone is going to recognize her at this rate.
***
Rooster tries to throw himself into enjoying the night, pretending that he doesn’t notice Phoenix and Hangman’s obvious absence after he got her texts from Hangman’s phone. Between the piano performances and the open tab, he’s become fairly popular. A pretty brunette whose name he thinks is either Ally or Emily keeps flirting with him while he waits his turn in their darts game. He’s not really interested but it’s a distraction.
Payback lounges in a chair, his attention split between his phone and the game. Fanboy made them switch teams so it’s Fanboy and Bob against him and Payback. Something about WSOs having one another’s backs.
“You’re the ones who just flew that mission to take out the uranium enrichment plant, right?”
Rooster looks up to see one of the new Top Gun pilots hovering on the edge of their group. This one seems a lot less full of himself than the shithead who was bothering Phoenix.
“Sorry,” he says with an awkward laugh. “I’m Wishbone. Not going to fangirl but wanted to pay my respects.” Wishbone glances at Bob. “I, uh, know you have a tab open but if we–I–can pick up one, I'd be honored. Um, glad to.”
“We’re good,” Fanboy tells him and raises the beer he’s holding.
A slow, knowing smile spreads across Payback’s face and he lifts an eyebrow at Fanboy who presses his lips together and looks away. Both Rooster and Wishbone look between Bob and Fanboy. Oh. How long has this been going on and does Phoenix know?
“Appreciate it,” Bob stammers, reaching to push up glasses that aren’t there. His face is bright red.
“Thanks for coming over, Wishbone,” Payback says easily. “It’s cool to meet the new class of selects. How’s it going?”
Relief relaxes Wishbone’s broad, friendly face. “Can’t really complain or brag after seeing the tail end of your training, sir.”
“Don’t let us intimidate you, though,” Payback says with almost a wink. “Maverick embarrassed us all at some point.”
Ally/Emily touches his arm. “Hey Bradley! I think I’m going to get another drink. Want one?”
Rooster knows this is his cue to follow her, for him to shuffle through the crowd on her heels and order her something from the bar. If Phoenix were here, she’d practically be waving him forward like an air traffic controller.
“Going to head to the bar but congratulations on making it to Top Gun.” Rooster claps Wishbone on the shoulder on his way to pass Payback his darts. “Don’t lose while I’m gone.”
“Lose?” Payback calls. “More likely to win!”
At the bar, Ally/Emily–he’s not sure how to figure out which it is–orders a vodka cranberry. He goes for another beer. “You closed out Hangman’s tab right?” he asks Penny. “You can put these on mine.”
She nods. “Sure did. He won’t leave before closing again. By the way, Mav headed out a little while ago but asked me to tell you he’ll be around tomorrow.” She glances at the woman beside him and her chin lifts with the slightest hint of curiosity before she goes to get their drinks.
“Who’s Mav?” Ally/Emily asks.
“Old friend.”
Rooster feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.
“So your friends. What’s going on there?” He has to lean in to hear her and kicks himself for making it seem like he’s way more into her than he is. She’s wasting her time hoping this will end up somewhere.
His phone vibrates again. And again. What the hell?
“What’s going on? Hang on.” Rooster checks his phone. Three missed calls from Hangman and seven text messages. Frowning, he skips reading the texts and accepts the next call that comes in. It sounds like Hangman’s been running or…“I swear to God, if you accidentally called me while having sex with–”
Ally/Emily’s well-highlighted hazel eyes go big.
“Is Phoenix with you?” Hangman gulps.
“You’re joking right? Because she said she was–.”
“Fuck. She did. But she left.”
Not sure he’s hearing right, Rooster mouths a sorry to Ally/Emily. She waves away the apology, but he’s already heading for the exit. It’s much quieter outside.
“What do you mean she left?” he asks, hoping he heard wrong. Realizing how hot it was inside, Rooster pulls his sweater away from his waist to let some of the chilly air in. This is why he likes his Hawaiian shirts. They’re so much cooler.
Hangman groans and there’s a slapping noise. “As in, I can’t find her anywhere in the BOQ or on the beach or within jogging distance,” he snaps.
“Why would she leave?”
“Can you keep a lookout for her at The Hard Deck? I don’t know how long ago she headed out, but she should be there by now or soon.”
Rooster presses the phone to his ear and moves away from a cluster of people who stepped outside for a smoke. He keeps his voice low. “Seresin, what's going on? Phoenix is supposed to be with you. So why would she be coming back here?”
It’s quiet on the other end, and then a sniff and Hangman clears his throat. “We had a fight,” he admits quietly. “Shit, Rooster, where is she?”
He looks around the parking lot as if Phoenix will suddenly appear out of thin air, but except for the people he passed there’s no one else along the dimly lit stretch. The bottom drops out of his stomach. “Well she’s not here so you better find her.”
Rooster hangs up before he can cuss Hangman out and make things worse. Reaching into his back pocket, he checks her phone. Phoenix left it on do not disturb but except for fifteen missed calls and twenty three texts from “Dickhead” as well as two texts from her mom, there’s no clue about where she may have gone.
His phone buzzes again, and they ask in unison. “Did you find her?”
“We’ll be back in ten,” Rooster promises and hangs up.
Masterlist | Chapter 11 | Chapter 13
#top gun maverick fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfic#tgm fic#natasha phoenix trace#natasha trace fic#phoenix x rooster#rooster x phoenix#phoenix x hangman#hangman x phoenix#hannix#jake hangman seresin#bradley rooster bradshaw
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The Stepmother Part 4: Betrayal
TW: Smut. Language.
SUMMARY: Your attempts to convince Rafe of an alternative lead to unexpecting confessions…
WORD COUNT: 1900
The Stepmother Part 4: Betrayal
He wasn't exactly sure what to expect that next morning, but your absence was more than noted. Even though your perfume remained as evidence of the duration spent with his bed and his body held the warmth of your touch just hours prior, it did nothing to ease the ache of your lack of a presence. Pulling himself to the edge of the bed, fingers wrapped interlaced once running through his hair, he realized the extent of his turmoils and the depths of his mistakes. But he also knew he would endure them a million times over as long as it meant he would still know your touch, your kiss...you.
But he had to make things right. If he had allowed this lust to ruin so many things prior, he had to do one thing right. And so without the care to search for you throughout the house as he was certain you would have already made an excuse to be anywhere else, he made his way to Tannyhill to talk to Rafe to try and convince him of an alternative. After all, there was a time they were once friends. Maybe he could reach him…maybe..
He'd made his way beyond the gate and down the long drive on foot, having left his car a safe distance away from any signal his vehicle would give as he wanted Rafe to be surprised by his presence. But he would be the one in bewilderment as he opened the back entrance to find you now held by Rafe's grasp. He would release you as the tense conversation you had with him was now ceased by Topper’s arrival.
"Of course..." Rafe groaned as Topper’s eyes narrowed before looking at you in pity. He shouldn't have been surprised that you would try to handle this yourself, but he hated that you felt that you needed to.
"There must be something else you want...something where nobody gets hurt..." To this, Rafe looked to you, the focus behind your distant gaze making him scoff.
"What can you offer me, Top? Hmmm?" Rafe now moved behind you, leaning on the table with his palms pressed flat into the surface of the dining room table.
"Just get rid of the video man, she has nothing to do with this, okay? You aren't just hurting me..."
"Nothing?" He scoffed, moving back towards you with his hands on your hips as Topper’s expression soured.
"Do you find it a bit odd that it was easy for me to find and record you? That you didn't hear anything? See anything?"
"What are you talking about?"
"There's one thing we can always count on living here and that's everyone is so fucking worried about their reputations. The scandal of a your father's somewhat new bride caught screwing her stepson...might make for headline or two...Just enough that he'd give anything to erase it..." Topper clenched his jaw.
"He's seen the video...Both of them...the one from the patio too...can't say I blame you for not being able to keep your hands off of her-" He pulled you into him showcasing how you were anything but innocent in this.
"Second camera was her idea...but enough to use against you-"
"You have money, Rafe, what the fuck could you want-"
"My dad has money..." He corrected.
"I want out from under him...so WE can start the life we've been talking about..." Topper’s eyes fell to his feet in realization. As Rafe had spoken of a girl he'd met, an older vixen of a woman who taught him positions he'd only conceived in his wildest memory, he deduced how this had been you. The way you were so frightened for him to go address this figure wasn't because she was scared, but she was scared of THIS confrontation. It all made sense now.
Bitter, cold, painful sense.
"So you wanting me to watch you be fuck her, just to be a dick?"
"Actually, she HAS had a thing for you and what am I if not a proactive type of person who lives to make his girl-woman, happy?" Tears filled your eyes as these words as you wished you could make them untrue. You wished you could claim coercion or threats. But you couldn't. It was simply the truth.
"Guess we didn't get that far..."
"Fuck this..." Topper spoke as he charged out of Tannyhill as you couldn't chase after him. No matter how badly you wanted to explain how things had changed, you couldn't risk Rafe's possessive rage for a conversation you knew would go south before it even had a chance to be addressed. You had no choice but to watch him walk away and it broke your heart.
Hours passed before you returned home. With your husband due away on business, you would have the house alone with just you and Topper. But as you expected to find him in disarray or even anger, possibly even absent, you would instead find a party in full swing. Music too loud to even attempt a conversation over and his peers littering the home you'd made your own despite your deceptions with the eldest Cameron. But you knew you would have to face him and so you searched the cluttered corridors and behind each and every door before deciding to call him. Put to voicemail with each attempt, you would option for a nearby drink to try and wash away your guilt before getting a text.
"I'm in my room." To this, you sauntered up the steps you had a thousand times, but of all ventures, this one had you genuinely nervous. You had no upper hand and all of your cards were revealed, you were at his mercy completely. You hoped your words could be enough.
"Top?" You inquired, pushing open his door to find him on the edge of his bed, his palms supporting himself before you noticed a silhouette between his legs. Unmistakable in the notions, you realized he was just as vile as you.
He led you in here for you to see how he didn't need you. A vision evident to the girl on her knees for him, concealing his cock between her cheeks as his head fell back in ecstasy, the moans you missed having now been gifted to her, as he wrapped her hair tightly within his fingers.
"Best I've ever fucking had..." He breathed as you bolted from the room, turning quickly onto the bathroom and burying your face in your hands. You didn't want to admit it, but he had broken a heart you believed no longer had a purpose. But in the moments when you'd felt most alive, he had been the reason you felt the depths of such pain. Although deserving, you loathed him for it.
The next morning after you'd cried yourself to sleep, you sat at the breakfast table, finding him to walk down alone. Half relieved but mostly annoyed, you focused on your breakfast, only really able to pick at the eggs benedict as he sat across from you.
"Can you pass the salt?" He asked, acting as if absolutely nothing had transpired between you. Not the events of last night. Not a touch. Not even a look of longing. Absolutely nothing. And it built a rage within you that was too hard ro hide, not that you tried to.
For this, you threw it at him as it shattered on the table and he scoffed, leaving him behind. And this is how you existed for the next week. Tormenting one another with your presence and the taunt of an apology or mending that never came due to your mutual stubbornness. All that came of it had been further tension and aggression to closure you would never get.
But then something changed. The night your husband came back home. You had managed to evade him, but the same could not be said for Topper. An argument broke out within an hour of his return where you would hear Topper being patronized and belittled by someone he once saw as a mentor. Words of disappointment and cruelty continued between them until the sound of broken glass and shuffling feet sent you into the room.
For only a second, you saw Topper held by the throat, a line of blood cascading down his temple, before he was released. Your arrival was the distraction needed for him to break free as he would do so with teary eyes and a clenched jaw, while you were left to deal with the aftermath. A lack of being addressed by this, you were given only silence by your husband, a tactic also shared by his son as you moved into his room well after everyone else had gone to bed.
"Top?" You knocked after requesting him, finding the door to come open effortlessly as he stood in the bathroom adjacent from his bed, dabbing the blood from his skin. Once he saw you in the mirror, he turned to shut the door as you quickly caught it.
"I just wanted to see if you were okay-"
"No. I'm not fucking okay! Leave-"
"Top-"
"I will drag you out of here myself if I have to, but let me promise you that it will be the LAST time I touch you." Your eyes narrowed at him.
"We were both cruel, but can we put that behind us for a second to-"
"Behind us? This isn't some fender bender you don't want me to tell my dad about! This isn't you covering my ass for smoking or sneaking you...you are the most...depraved...evil...selfish person I've ever met. I'm disgusted just looking at you-"
"Couldn’t have been too disgusted since you found company in another girl, so don't make it sound like I kept you from-"
"I wanted to hurt you and then I realized how stupid it is because you can't break someone's heart if they don't have one-"
“I just wanted to see if you were okay..."
"How the fuck am you supposed to be? You seduced me for what? That's all I wanna know. Was it really all just to get your kicks?"
"He wouldn't give me a divorce....I thought if I was caught with you he would..." He slowly nodded.
"Let me guess, he still won't give it to you?"
You shook your head. "Guess we're both fucked.. at least YOU got something out of it..."
"You aren't innocent in this either! If you didn't want me-"
"Are you seriously slut shaming me?! You came onto me-"
"And I wish I didn't, believe me!"
"Believe you?! How can I? When a week ago I expected to wake up in the arms of the woman I loved and instead-" He paused, realizing what he'd said as you froze. When his eyes found yours again, you only saw tears, "Instead, I find out not only are you fucking my best friend but fucking me over in the process. All some master plan for such a stupid reason-"
"What do you want me to say?"
"Nothing. Just fucking go."
"No-"
"I swear to God-"
"Not until you listen-"
"Oh? And why should I, huh?"
"Because...I love you too!" His teeth clenched. "I don't know when it happened, okay? But it did. And I tried to fix it all but it didn't matter...Either way, Rafe wins and I'm trapped in a catch 22 no matter what. You get to go back to college and away from all of this and I'm here...I'm stuck here wishing I was with you!"
Suddenly his hands were on your body pushing you onto the bed, but only to sit.
"You really sorry?" With teary eyes you shrugged as he cocked his jaw before this led you to nod, exhausted with fighting.
"Then show me."
"Show you?" He took hold of the back of your hair, leading you onto your knees.
"Fucking show me how sorry you are..."
Part 5 Coming SOON!
Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @my-baexht-ls @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae
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My hoe story is long 😅 When I was 22 I reconnected with the first guy I ever hooked up with after a few years of not seeing each other. I had moved a few hours away but was in the area frequently to visit friends and family. We agreed we were together, but really we were in a psuedo-relationship, both of us had one foot out. I had a place to stay when I was in town, we both got laid, but it wasn't much deeper than that. Through him (PBF) I met his friend I had known in passing through him and other friends, and always had a thing for (Other Guy/OG). We all ended up hanging out a lot, and a year later PBF joked to me that OG wanted to fuck me too. Three months later, we had a threesome and I realized I ONLY had the hots for OG after that. The switch for PBF was turned off but I didn't know how to end it. We all hung out again a month later when I was back in town. OG and I got drunk with PBF, who was too sucked into playing LOL to see me and OG flirting heavily. PBF got tired around 2 AM and we laid down on his bed to sleep, PBF between me and OG. When PBF was clearly asleep, OG reached over him, tickled my leg, and asked if I would meet him in the bathroom. He knocked on the door a few minutes after I went in and kissed me as soon as got in the door. It was some of the hottest sex I've ever had, in so many different ways, better than any I'd ever had up to that point. He looked at me and touched me like I was the sexist person alive, and wanted to please me any way he could. We spent nearly *five* fucking hours in there, trying all kinds of positions and seeing what each other liked. In the shower, on the counter, on the floor.. until I got too warm and dehydrated and we had to get some air and water. I don't know how we didn't get caught, especially since we ended up on a giant chair in the living room where he went down on me as the sun came up, because he said he couldn't get enough. We snuck back into PBF's room just before 8 AM. PBF woke up at 11 and didn't understand why we were so tired, we just said we were hungover. PBF was none the wiser, and he ended up breaking things off with me a few weeks later after hooking back up with an old friend (a huge relief for me). OG and I continued having an on/off FWB arrangement for 5 years while we figured our lives out. I am happy to say we've been together for 2+ years now, it's only gotten better. Only a few people know how we *actually* ended up together
Happy 2+ years you nasty hoes! Honestly this was erotica novel worthy like submit this to HBO after dark or something. He better still be making you feel like the sexiest person alive!
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