#THERE ARE THREE YEAR OLDS THERE!!!! I THOUGHT ID HAVE TO GIVE UP WORKING WITH THE BABIES BUT I DONT!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingforstraykids · 4 months

Text

Always back to you - Chp.4

Pairing: Minho x m!Reader (mention of 3racha)

Word Count: 7000

Summary: Minho gets a call from his ex-wife, asking to meet Minjun. Hesitating, he agrees to the meeting but not without you by his side. You both find your way around each other as the boundaries between friendship and love dissolve more and more...

Warnings/Tags: fluff, single dad!min, angst, domestic shit, emotional hurt!comfort, panic attack,

A/N: Thank you for all the love for the story and little Minjun so far. I hope you enjoy this chapter, some of you have been waiting for what happens here hehe🖤

PART THREE | PART FIVE

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

The steady rhythmic sound of a knife chopping vegetables abruptly halts as the sharp, insistent ring of Minho’s phone pierces through the quiet kitchen atmosphere. Minho's hand stills, a sense of dread creeping up his spine as he stares at the caller ID. What?

Minho glances out of the window quickly, seeing you and Minjun still playing peacefully outside. His eyes wander back to his phone and it takes everything in him to take it into his hand, his thumb hovering over the screen. He takes a deep breath before picking up the phone. "Hello?"

"Minho, it's Yejun," comes the voice on the other end, unmistakable and unexpectedly calm. The sound of his ex-wife's voice, not heard in conversations for years, is enough to make his heart skip a beat.

"Hi, Yejun...What's up?" Minho manages to keep his voice steady, though his grip on the phone tightens.

"I’ve been thinking. It’s been a long time, and I want to meet Minjun. I want to see our son," she says.

Minho feels as if the floor dropped from beneath him. The request comes as a shock, reopening a chapter of his life he thought had been firmly closed. He leans heavily against the kitchen counter, trying to gather his thoughts. "I...that’s quite sudden. I’m not sure that’s a good idea," he replies, the discomfort clear in his voice.

"I know it’s sudden, Minho. I just want to be a part of his life," she says.

“Mhm,” he hums sourly, feeling nothing but defensiveness bubbling up in him.

“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?” she asks sharply and Minho closes his eyes, swallowing down the memories that flood his brain at that tone.

“Means I wonder what makes you think you can leave and then come back once he’s old enough to do a lot on his own,” he says, chewing on his lower lip.

“It’s my right to see him, Min,” she says.

“Don’t,” Minho says firmly. “Don’t even start claiming it’s your right to meet him. You left him once he was old enough to drink from the bottle. You have absolutely no right to demand anything.”

“Gosh, Min, still so emotional, hm?” she groans and Minho puts his phone on speaker, slamming it down on the table and mocking her quietly. Her laugh rings in his ears as she starts talking again. “I want to meet him. If he doesn’t like me, I’ll go.”

“Gosh, Yejun, still taking the easy way out, hm?” he gives back dryly, bracing himself at the table. “Why now?”

“As you said, he’s easy to handle now. I’m curious,” she says.

“Curious…If you meet him, I’m there every damn second, you hear me?” he asks, and she agrees reluctantly. “If you hurt my son in any way, I’m taking him home, and that’s the last you saw of him.”

“Relax,” she snorts. “I’ll be in Seoul next week from Monday until Friday. Let’s meet up then.”

Minho agrees hesitantly, ending the call with a heavy sigh. As soon as he puts the phone down, a wave of nausea sweeps over him, his hand flying to his stomach as if to quell the rising sickness. Pacing the kitchen, he feels his mind race with worries about the past getting back at him, about the potential destruction of Minjun’s more or less stable but happy life.

You get back inside to refill Minjun’s water bottle as he quickly uses the bathroom in the meantime. You find Minho in the kitchen, his face pale, bracing himself on the table. "Minho? What’s wrong? You look sick," you ask worriedly. “You’re feeling dizzy again?”

Hearing your voice seems to ground him momentarily. He looks up at you with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. "That was Yejun," he manages to say, his voice a whisper of distress. "She wants to meet Minjun. She says she wants to be part of his life."

Your expression shifts from concern to shock. You’ve heard of her, of course, the woman who had left Minho to raise Minjun alone and caused much of his earlier heartache when you met him. "Oh, Minho," you murmur, stepping next to him. “What are you going to do?"

"I don’t know," Minho admits, his voice shaky. "Part of me thinks maybe it’s good if Minjun knows his mother. But another part...I can’t bear the thought. What if she leaves again? What if she hurts him? I can’t let Minjun go through that."

You nod, understanding his inner conflict. "This is tough, but whatever decision you make, I’m here. You’re not alone in this, Minho."

Minho looks into your eyes, finding peace in your unwavering support. Taking a deep breath, he tries to calm his racing heart. "Can you... Can you just hold me for a minute?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly asking for that, but somehow, it feels right.

Without hesitation, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. Minho buries his face in your shoulder, allowing himself to feel vulnerable, to accept the comfort being offered. As they stand there, Minho feels a tiny fragment of his anxiety ebb away, the warmth and steadiness of your embrace lending him strength.

After a long moment, Minho steps back slightly. "Thank you, Y/nnie. For being here," he says, his voice thick with gratitude.

"Always," you reply, squeezing his hand.

Minho feels a little steadier, bolstered by your support. "Would you...come with me to meet her? I think I might need someone there, just in case. I uh…I don’t know how it’ll be seeing her again and everything."

"Of course, Minho. I'll be there," you reply gently.

The day of the meeting arrives with a tense air. Minho is quiet as you both drive to the cafe where the meeting with Yejun is scheduled. Every now and then, he glances at Minjun in the rearview mirror, who is blissfully unaware of the gravity of the situation, chatting excitedly about the new game you had taught him. He seemed excited to meet his mother, which was the only reason Minho decided to let them.

As you arrive and find Yejun already there, a chill runs down Minho’s spine. She looks different, yet somehow the same, and his stomach tightens as he watches her wave them over with a bright, practiced smile. Minjun gently tugs at his jeans, as always when meeting new people. He’s glad to have something to hold onto as he picks him up and soothingly pats his back.

You stay close to them, looking at Yejun curiously. You had never felt the need to look up old pictures of Minho and her, so you had no idea what she looked like…and looking at her makes you realize she’s stunningly beautiful. Her dark, long curls frame her perfect face, skin smooth and accentuating her bright eyes. A red dress hugs her body in all the right places, and she looks delicate but elegant. God, no wonder Minho had a hard time getting over that. Getting closer, you realize Minjun must’ve inherited the freckles covering her nose, as well as the curly texture of his hair.

"Minho, it's been too long," Yejun greets, standing to embrace him swiftly. She presses a short kiss onto his cheek that has Minho tensing up, eyes widening. Ah, lovely.

"Yejun," he nods, taking a few steps back, then turns to you. "This is Y/nnie."

"Nice to meet you," you say, offering a polite smile, though you feel the undercurrents of tension.

“And that’s..?” she asks, glancing at Minjun.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Minho mutters quietly making Minjun giggle and cover his mouth with his little hand.

“Bad word, Daddy!” he protests, making you smirk.

“That’s some kid I stole on the way here,” Minho rolls his eyes at her. “That’s Minjun…obviously.”

“Oh…you’ve gotten big,” she nods, looking at Minjun curiously.

“Well he was six months old when you left, go figure,” Minho says patiently, with a fake calm smile on his face. “Minjunnie, say hi to your mother.”

Minjun frowns at her softly before looking up at Minho. “Daddy? Mum who ran away?” he asks and you have trouble biting back a laugh at her perplexed face.

“Mhm, that one,” Minho nods, pulling himself out a chair. “She wants to talk to you, so be nice, buddy.”

“Okay,” he nods, getting comfortable in his own chair, blinking at her curiously.

The conversation starts with trivialities, Yejun asking about Minjun's interests. But soon, she shifts the topic to her life in the US, describing her home, the parks, and the schools that she says would be wonderful for Minjun once he’s old enough.

Minjun listens, wide-eyed, clearly taken with the idea of such places. "Can I see them, Daddy? Can I visit her in America?" he asks, looking excitedly between Minho and Yejun.

Minho feels a pang in his heart at the words, his fear creeping back as he watches his son’s enthusiasm. He tries to keep his voice even. "We'll see, buddy. We're just talking right now."

Yejun leans forward, her tone persuasive. "I have a great life there, Minjun. You could have your own room, a big yard to play in... I'd love to show you around."

Minho feels sick watching the scene unfold, his hands clenched under the table. You notice his discomfort and place a reassuring hand on his knee. As the meeting draws to an end, Minho is quiet, lost in thought as Yejun makes plans to visit Minjun again. "Let’s take it slow, one step at a time," Minho finally says, not committing to anything more.

On the drive back, Minjun chats happily about the things his mother had told him, while Minho remains silent, his expression drawn.

Once home, Minho retreats to the kitchen, his movements sluggish, each step seeming to weigh heavily on him. You watch as he leans against the counter, his face pale and his eyes distant. Concerned, you approach him, your hand gently touching his arm. "Minho?" you call softly, trying to get his attention.

He looks up, his eyes meeting yours, and there's an unspoken plea for comfort. The day had drained him, dredging up past pains and uncertainties about the future. "I just... I don't know if I did the right thing today," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "What if she convinces him? What if he wants to go with her?"

You understand the turmoil he's in. The possibility of Minjun wanting to leave with Yejun is his worst nightmare coming true. Stepping closer, you wrap your arms around him, offering him a silent reassurance. "Minho, you're an incredible father. Minjun knows that. Whatever Yejun says or does, it won't change the bond you two have."

Minho rests his forehead against your shoulder, his breath shaky. "I hope you're right," he murmurs. "It's just hard not to feel threatened, to feel like everything we have could be disrupted by her return."

"It's understandable to feel that way," you reply, holding him tighter. "But remember, Minjun loves you. He's grown up with you. That connection, those memories, they're not easily broken or forgotten. You're his dad, the one who's been there for him every single day."

As you speak, Minho's tension begins to ease. He pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes, searching for the certainty he so desperately needs. Seeing the sincerity in your gaze, a small smile begins to form on his lips. "Thank you, Y/nnie," he says. "For being here, for supporting me through this."

"Always," you reply, smiling back.

The kitchen is quiet for a moment, the only sound being the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Minho seems to ponder your words, letting them sink in. Gradually, the anxious lines on his face smooth out, replaced by a more resolute expression. "I won't let her take him away," he states, more to himself than to you. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep Minjun with me."

"And I'll help you," you assure him.

As the evening sets in, you and Minho prepare dinner together, the earlier tension melting away into a comfortable routine. Minjun joins you, chatting excitedly about his day, blissfully unaware of the complex emotions his father has been grappling with. Watching Minho laugh and interact with his son, you feel a profound sense of admiration and love for him.

Later, as you sit down to eat, the atmosphere is light, filled with Minjun’s laughter and stories. Minho looks over at you, a silent gratitude in his gaze. Despite the challenges, he knows he isn't alone. With you by his side, he feels ready to handle whatever may come.

That night, after Minjun has gone to bed, you and Minho find yourselves on the couch, a comfortable silence enveloping you. Minho leans his head on your shoulder, his earlier fears now calmed by your presence and the peaceful end to the day.

"Today was hard," he admits quietly.

"It was," you agree. "But you got through it. And you’ll get through whatever else comes your way."

Minho stands silently in the middle of the living room, the soft hum of the evening settling around him. The faint laughter and shouts of children playing outside drifts through the open window, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside him. His hands tremble slightly as he turns over a small toy that Minjun had left on the couch—a constant reminder of his responsibilities, his fears, and his deep-seated insecurities about being a father. Minjun is staying with Felix and Chan for a few hours and you'll visit to work through a few important aspects of his schedule.

The weight of his thoughts and the relentless pressure he placed on himself were reaching a boiling point. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in as each of Minjun’s innocent questions from earlier that day echoed in his head, “Are you happy, Daddy? Does Yejun like me? Can I go to America?” The questions are simple, filled with the childlike curiosity of his young son, yet to Minho, they are a reflection of his deepest fears—is he truly enough?

The anxiety that had been simmering throughout the day suddenly surges, a tidal wave crashing over him with suffocating force. His breathing becomes shallow, each inhale sharp and unsatisfying. His heart races uncontrollably, pounding against his ribs as if trying to escape. The room spins, and a nauseous feeling tightens in his gut. He's having a panic attack, the intense fear of failing his son overwhelming him completely.

Just then, you walk in. You stop in track at the sight of Minho, his face pale, his body tense and trembling. Dropping your bag, you rush over. “Minho! What’s happening?” Your voice is laced with concern as you reach out to steady him, your hands gripping his arms.

“I...I can’t breathe properly,” Minho gasps out, his voice shaky. “I feel like I’m not enough for him...like I’m going to fail him.”

You quickly lead him to the sofa, helping him to sit down. “Look at me, Minho. Follow my breathing, okay? In and out, slowly,” you instruct him gently, demonstrating deep, steady breaths.

Minho tries to mimic your breathing, focusing on the rise and fall of your chest. Gradually, his own breaths begin to deepen, the tight grip of fear around his chest loosening slightly with each exhale. You don't let go, your presence a calming force in the storm of his panic.

After a few minutes, as the initial wave of panic begins to subside, Minho feels exhaustion seep into his bones, replacing the adrenaline that had surged through him just moments before. He leans back against the sofa, his eyes closing briefly in fatigue.

“You’re doing great, Minho. Just keep breathing like that,” you murmur, your voice a soothing balm. “You are enough for Minjun, more than enough. You’re an incredible father.”

Tears prick at Minho’s eyes as he listens to your affirmations. “I’m scared,” he admits, his voice a broken whisper. “What if it’s not true? What if I’m not what he needs?”

You shift closer, your side pressing against his, a silent offer of solidarity. “Minho, look at everything you’ve done for him. He adores you. Your fear doesn’t define your reality. You are exactly what Minjun needs because you love him, and you show up every day for him, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

The sincerity in your words, the warmth of your body next to his, it all pierces through the fog of Minho’s anxiety, reaching a part of him that he kept walled off from everyone else. He turns to look at you, really look, seeing not just a friend but someone who has come to mean so much more to him.

Without thinking, driven by the emotions swirling within him and the need to be closer to the one person who seemed to understand him completely, Minho leans in. You hesitate, leaning in a little before you both stop for me a moment. Then you meet halfway, your lips touching in a kiss that is soft and hesitant at first but quickly deepened with shared urgency and emotion. But as seconds pass, the kiss deepens, driven by a mixture of long-suppressed desires and the comforting familiarity that has grown between you over countless shared moments.

All that matters is the here and now—the warmth of your lips against his, the gentle exploration that grows bolder with each passing moment. Your hands move to cup Minho’s face, your touch tender yet assured, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until it is all-consuming.

Minho’s hands find their way around you, pulling you in, his heart pounding against his chest. The kiss grows more desperate, a silent confession of the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. Your breaths mingle, quick and shaky, as the kiss ignites a fire within you both, a blaze that seems to fill the voids you had both carried inside.

But as the intensity of your embrace grows, so does a creeping fear in the back of Minho’s mind. His heart, scarred from past hurts and losses, begins to recoil at the vulnerability he is exposing himself to. The memory of his past, of being left alone when he had dared to love openly, surges forward, casting a shadow over the warmth he feels.

Your hands trace the line of Minho's jaw, gentle yet insistent, pulling him closer. Minho responds in kind, his hands finding the small of your back, pressing you together. The kiss grows more fervent, more desperate, as if you're trying to communicate every unspoken word, every suppressed emotion through this single act.

As your breath quickens, Minho’s emotions swirl chaotically—a blend of exhilaration and deep-seated fear. The intensity of your connection right here is something he hasn't allowed himself to fully experience for a long time, not since his heart had been guarded against such vulnerabilities.

Suddenly, the weight of his past, the memories of abandonment, and the fear of experiencing such profound loss again surge to the forefront of his mind. It is overwhelming the way these fears claw their way up, threatening to overshadow the warmth and safety he had just been reveling in.

With a sudden intake of breath, Minho’s hands still, and he pulls back slightly, breaking the kiss. His heart is racing, not just with the passion of the moment but also with a creeping dread that he might be setting himself up for another heartbreak. His chest heaves as he tries to steady his breathing, his eyes wide and vulnerable as he meets your concerned gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice choked with a mixture of fear and regret. “I... I need a moment.”

Your face is a mixture of worry and understanding. You reach out, brushing a trembling hand against Minho’s cheek. “It’s okay, Minho. We don’t have to rush anything. I’m here, okay?”

Minho nods, feeling a lump form in his throat. He is terrified, not of the kiss or the connection but of what it signifies. To let someone in so completely was to risk being torn apart again. And yet, as he looks into your eyes, he sees a reflection of something pure and steady—a commitment not just to the joy of their relationship but to the struggles, too.

Minho takes a deep breath, each inhale laced with the scent of your skin, a reminder of the now. “I just... I’m scared of losing myself, of losing Minjun, of being left alone again if this... if we don’t work out,” he confesses, his voice barely a whisper amidst the quiet of the room.

Your expression softens, your eyes filling with empathy. “Minho, love doesn’t come with guarantees, but not giving ourselves the chance to experience it fully is a guarantee of regret. I don’t know what the future holds, but I promise to be by your side through the highs and the lows. You’re not alone anymore, and you won’t be.”

These words, gentle and reassuring, seem to stitch up the raw edges of Minho’s fears slowly. He allows himself to lean into you, feeling the solidity of your presence. “Thank you,” he murmurs, allowing himself to feel the full extent of his vulnerability.

“Thank you for not running,” you say, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. The tension begins to dissipate, replaced by a cautious hope.

“Thank you for staying,” Minho shakes his head gently.

You smile, your hand squeezing Minho’s. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” you assure him. You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to Minho’s forehead, a simple gesture that holds a depth of meaning.

Minho allows himself to be held, his head resting against your shoulder, feeling the steady beat of your heart against his cheek. It is comforting, grounding. Slowly, his breathing evens out, the immediate panic subsiding under the gentle rhythm of your assurances.

“You mean a lot to me, Y/nnie,” Minho confesses, pulling back slightly to look at you. “I don’t want to lose you, not because of my fears.”

You smile, your hands sliding down to grasp his. “And you won’t lose me. I care about you, Minho. We’ll face this together, okay? Step by step.”

“Okay,” Minho agrees, squeezing your hands. “Step by step.”

The moment is tender, a delicate truce between Minho’s fears and the possibilities that lie ahead. You stay like that for a while, simply holding each other, finding comfort in the presence of one another.

When it is time for you to leave, Minho finds himself not wanting to let go. The goodbye is lingering, filled with the promise of soon and more. You leave him with a smile, and Minho watches from the doorway, feeling a mixture of contentment and longing.

That night, as Minho lies in bed, Minjun peacefully asleep next to him, he thinks about the kiss - the way it had made him feel alive, the way it had scared him. He touches his lips, still feeling the ghost of your touch. The fear is still there, a quiet whisper in the back of his mind, but it is slowly being overshadowed by a stronger, more insistent feeling: hope.

He knows the road ahead will be fraught with challenges, but for the first time in a long while, Minho feels ready to face them. With you by his side, he isn't just facing the future; he is stepping into it, one kiss, one conversation, one promise at a time.

Minho nervously ties Minjun’s shoelaces, hoping his attentive little boy can’t see the anxiety written all over his face. He gently takes Minjun’s small hands into his and searches his eyes. “Minjunnie?” he asks softly.

“What, Daddy?” his son asks curiously.

“Daddy loves you a lot, okay?” he asks, and Minjun nods contently. “I’m sorry I can’t always be there, I’ll try to get better.”

“It’s okay,” he says, gently patting his father’s head.

Minho giggles at him and pulls him into his lap. “I will always love you, okay? No matter what happens.”

“Always?” he asks softly, and Minho nods firmly. “Always come back?”

Minho cups his face, smiling at him encouragingly. “I’ll always come back to you, buddy.”

“Good,” he smiles brightly. “Yejun now?” he asks, and Minho nods.

“Yeah,” he says, almost feeling a little ashamed for being so relieved about Minjun not calling her his mother.

You open the door, glancing inside. “You two are ready to go?” you ask. “I’ll drop you off at the café, make sure everything’s in place at the location for the shoot, and then come back. I won’t be gone longer than ten minutes, it’s on the other side of the road.”

“Sounds good,” Minho nods, subconsciously chewing on his lower lip. He pushes himself back up and meeting your eyes, you can tell he needs a hug.

“Come here,” you say gently, opening your arms for him. Minho laughs weakly and hugs you tightly, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt. “It’ll be okay,” you tell him, earning a timid hum in return.

“Daddy?” Minjun frowns up at you two worriedly.

Minho leaves your warm embrace, picking him up. “I’m okay,” he assures him, his one hand finding yours. Your fingers intertwine almost naturally, and you can feel his hand tremble in yours a little.

“Liar,” Minjun says softly, not even sounding like he’s judging him for it.

Minho chuckles weakly and searches your eyes. “Minjunnie? You really like Y/nnie, right?” he asks, watching you with a gentle smile.

“No,” he shakes his head, making your heart sink for a moment. “I love Y/nnie, Daddy.”

You both laugh softly, and you gently poke his cheek. “I love you too, Minjunnie…and I care a lot about your Daddy too.”

“I…I love Y/nnie too,” Minho says quietly, and your world stops turning for a few seconds.

“What?” you ask just as quietly, swallowing hard as tears brim Minho’s soft chocolate eyes.

“I love you, Y/nnie,” he tells you again, a little less shaky this time. “I do,” he says as if he has to reassure you both he put it into words.

“I love you too, Minho,” you whisper happily, your heart warming. Minho squeezes your hand, searching your eyes timidly. You don’t think much, closing the distance between you two and kissing him softly. Minho sighs quietly, feeling at ease here in the moment of kissing you.

Minjun squeals making you break apart again. “Eww, but yay,” he says with wide eyes, making you giggle.

“Okay, let's go,” you laugh and gently shove Minho out of the room.

You drive them to the café and Minho shares another quick kiss with you before getting out. You quickly cross the street to check the set, hoping it won't take long.

The tension in the air is thick as Yejun sits across from Minho at a small, brightly lit café in the heart of Seoul. The noise of the bustling city outside does little to fill the silence that hangs between them. Minho watches her observantly as she tries to talk to Minjun, who’s busy coloring in the book she gifted him earlier.

"Minjun, you would love it in America," Yejun begins, her voice infused with excitement. "We have huge parks, and there are so many fun things you can do. There's Disneyland, with all the rides and characters you love."

Minjun's eyes light up at the mention of Disneyland, but his smile falters as he glances sideways at Minho, who sits silently, his expression unreadable. "Can Daddy come with us?" Minjun asks innocently, his voice tinged with hope.

Yejun’s smile tightens slightly. "No, it would just be you and me. But think of all the adventures we’ll have!"

Minjun’s face falls. "But I want Daddy...and Y/nnie," he ads, his small voice growing firmer. "I want them."

Yejun’s patience began to crumble. "Minjun, I’m your mother. I have a wonderful life set up for us in America. You need to think about what I’m offering you."

Minho, who has been quietly observing the exchange, sees the confusion and distress growing on Minjun’s face. "Yejun, that's enough," he interjects calmly. "You’re overwhelming him. He’s only a child."

Yejun turns her gaze to Minho, her eyes flashing with irritation. "You have no right to keep him from me, Minho! You’ve turned him against me, huh? You stole my son!"

The accusation stings, and Minho’s voice grows stern. "Yejun, I haven’t stolen anyone. I’ve been here for Minjun every single day since he was born. He’s my son too, and I have been his only parent for years."

“Well, I’m his mother and-”

Tears well up in Minjun's eyes as the tension rises. He can tell his father is upset and trying not to show it, he may be young but he knows him well. The woman opposite him glares at him and he doesn’t like that at all. "You're not my mum, Y/nnie is!" he cries out, the emotional toll of the conversation beginning to show. "Y/nnie plays with me. Y/nnie makes me food. Y/nnie cuddles me!"

Yejun blinks, her face contorted with a mix of shock and disgust. "Y/nnie? That babysitter? You think he's a better mother than me?”

“Yes,” he says stubbornly, staring down at his coloring book again.

“Minho, what the fuck have you done with this child?” she asks frustratedly.

Minho reaches out, taking Minjun’s hand in his, providing a comforting touch. "Y/nnie has been here for him. What Minjun is trying to say is that family isn’t just about blood; it’s about who cares for you, who’s there for you."

Yejun’s anger flares, and she stands abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. "He is my son, and you’ve turned him into this...this weak, dependent child clinging to a man who has no business raising him!"

Minjun’s tears spill over, and he buries his face in Minho’s side, sobbing. Minho wraps his arms around his son protectively. "He is not weak. He’s a child, Yejun. And you’re upsetting him."

“I can’t believe you’re letting his babysitter take my role!” she protests loudly.

“That babysitter is my boyfriend,” Minho says firmly. Technically, the two of you aren't there yet but he couldn't care less right now. “So you better watch your mouth now.”

“Really? Dating a man?” she scoffs. “Did I break your heart so much you’re too scared to face another woman?” she spits out.

“What?” Minho almost chokes on his breath.

“You’re stupid,” Minjun states, pouting at her through tears. He doesn’t like how she’s talking about the two most important people in his life. “Daddy loves Y/nnie. Not you.”

“You’re coming with me now, if you like it or not!” she says firmly, reaching out for him.

"Don’t touch him," you snap, your voice icy as you move to block her path. "You need to leave, Yejun. You’re only causing him distress." You can’t believe what you got back to here.

Yejun stares at you, her anger boiling over. "He’s my son, not yours! You have no right—"

"He's not your son!" Minho interrupts firmly, standing up to face her, his voice echoing in the small space. "Not if you can’t see the damage you’re doing right now. Minjun has made his choice!"

“Not my mummy,” Minjun agrees. Still clinging to Minho, he peeks out and yells in his small, fierce voice, "Go away! I don’t want you! I want Daddy and Y/nnie!"

The raw honesty in Minjun’s voice seems to hit Yejun hard. For a moment, her resolve wavers, her features softening as she looks at her son. But the bitterness and resentment are too deep, her expression hardening once again.

“You’re disgusting,” she says toward Minho who stares at her quietly. “One day, he’ll leave you just like he left me,” she tells Minjun, who whimpers, clinging to him.

“You’re such a bitch,” you tell her and stare her down until she storms off. “You forgot your stuff!” you call out for her and she spins around, stomping back to get it.

“Fuck you.” With that, she turns sharply and storms out of the café, leaving behind a heavy silence.

Minho kneels down, wiping the tears from Minjun’s cheeks. "It’s okay, buddy. She’s gone now. You’re safe," he murmurs, his voice soothing.

Minjun sniffles, nodding as he leans into Minho’s embrace. "Stay with me, Daddy. Stay with Y/nnie."

"We will, Minjun. We’re not going anywhere," Minho reassures him. “Always back to you, remember my sweet boy?”

“Yes, Daddy,” he nods bravely.

Back at the company Minho walks straight to Chan's studio, telling you to go and get some snacks with Minjun first. He closes the door behind himself and starts cursing as soon as it clicks shut. “I swear that woman is insane! I don't know what the fuck I saw in her but it's gone!”

Chan slowly pulls off his headphones and Jisung clicks his pen, blinking at Minho worriedly. “Mate, what happened?” Chan asks gently.

“Yejun happened!” Minho snaps. “She just tried to pull Minjun away from me so he'd go with her! She called him a weak, clingy child for wanting to stay with me!”

“Okay, take a deep breath,” Chan says soothingly.

“I don't feel like taking a deep breath right now,” he says fuming with anger.

Changbin picks up a pillow and throws it at him. “Scream into that for a moment. Let it all out. You haven't told us much but I suspect Minjun needs his father to be calm now.” Minho blinks at them stunned before doing as they say, his scream getting muffled by the pillow. “Better?”

“A little,” he nods, making them all laugh. Minho flops down onto the sofa between Changbin and Jisung, huffing softly. Then he tells them about everything that happened, all of them growing quiet, exchanging shocked glances.

“Not to be that type of person but..I never liked her,” Jisung snorts and Minho hums agreeingly.

“I know…but I wouldn't want to miss the time I had with her. I'd miss my little boy,” he sighs and rubs his face.

“If she starts causing trouble you let me know, alright?” Chan asks. “Everyone of us can tell whoever needs to know that you've always been there for him and raised him well so far.”

“Thanks, hyung,” he smiles gently, looking up as the door opens and you and Minjun enter the room. Minjun runs up to everyone handing them their favorite snack and smiles proudly at the many encouragement he gets. Minho scoots over and pats the space next to himself, gently tapping your hand to make you sit.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” you ask and Minho nods, getting up quickly.

As soon as you leave the room Minjun climbs into Chan's lap and nibbles on his chocolate. “Exciting day?” Chan asks gently.

“No. Yejun’s a bitch,” he announces dryly. Chan bites back a laugh and Jisung nods proudly.

“Woah, that's a strong word,” Changbin laughs. “Did your daddy teach you that?”

“No, Y/nnie,” he tells them.

“You like staying with your daddy more, right?” Chan asks amused.

“And Y/nnie,” he nods happily. “Y/nnie and Daddy.”

“Yeah? Y/nnie stays with you a lot,” Jisung agrees.

“Daddy loves Y/nnie.”

“Loves?” he asks curiously.

Minjun nods and leans up to Chan, kissing his cheek. “They did that.”

Chan giggles, exchanging a glance with his friends. “They kissed?” he asks curiously.

“Mhm,” he nods and continues munching his chocolate. “But not there,” he says, pointing at Chan's cheek.

“No?” Chan asks stunned.

“No. Like uncle Lix and you,” he announces making the whole room go silent.

“You mean here?” Chan asks, pointing at his lips.

“Yes,” Minjun nods. “Y/nnie is my new mum.”

“That's so cute,” Jisung whispers, smiling at him adoringly.

The door opens and you two are back from your short talk about everything that happened. You sense something's off, judging by the way the three are glancing from Minho to you and back again. “Minjunnie, are you ready to go home?” you ask him. “Daddy has to work but he'll come later.”

“Work?” Minjun asks heartbreakingly timid.

“I'm sorry, baby,” Minho tries, swallowing hard as Minjun climbs off Chan's lap and walks over to him, his small face scrunching up. Minho scoops him up, hugging him tightly. "I'll be back before you know it, okay? And Y/nnie will be with you," he reassures, glancing over at you with a grateful smile.

Minjun seems somewhat calmed by this, nestling his head against Minho's shoulder. "Promise?" he mumbles, his voice muffled.

"I promise, buddy," Minho affirms, pressing a kiss to his son's hair.

You can't help but feel a pang of warmth at the scene, your heart swelling at the depth of their bond. As you prepare to leave with Minjun, Minho sets him down, adjusting his little backpack and smoothing down his hair.

"Be good for Y/nnie, okay?" Minho instructs, kneeling to be eye level with Minjun.

"I will," Minjun nods solemnly, then looks up at you with those big, trusting eyes. "Let's go, Y/nnie."

As you lead Minjun out of the studio, his hand in yours, you glance back to see Minho watching you both, a mix of love and a tinge of sorrow in his eyes. It's clear how torn he feels, the duties of his work pulling him away from moments he cherishes with his son.

Back at Minho’s house, the evening unfolds with a quiet kind of normalcy. Minjun plays with his toys in the living room, occasionally chatting about things he remembers from the day or asking questions about what tomorrow might bring. You keep your answers light and reassuring, mindful of the emotional turmoil he’s endured.

Later, while Minjun is absorbed in a cartoon, you step into the kitchen to prepare a simple dinner, your thoughts wandering back to Minho. The way he had leaned into your kiss, the vulnerability he showed—it all painted a picture of a man deeply in love but equally scared of the implications. Your heart aches for him, wishing there was more you could do to ease his fears.

As you set the table, Minjun comes running into the kitchen, his earlier worries seemingly forgotten in the wake of his current excitement about the cartoon.

"Y/nnie, did you see? The superhero saved everyone!" he exclaims, his eyes sparkling.

"I saw that, buddy. It was pretty cool, wasn’t it?" you smile, lifting him onto a chair.

"Yeah! I wanna be like that," Minjun declares, his chest puffing out proudly.

"I think you're already a hero, Minjun. You know that?" you say, ruffling his hair.

He giggles, beaming up at you. "Really?"

"Really," you affirm, serving him his dinner.

Dinner passes with playful chatter, and soon it's time for Minjun's bedtime. As you tuck him into bed, he hugs his beloved bunny.

"Daddy comes home soon?" Minjun’s voice is small, tinged with the weight of his earlier tears.

"He promised, didn’t he? And your daddy always keeps his promises," you reassure him, smoothing down the blanket. “Did you know your daddy's animal of the group is a bunny?”

Minjun nods proudly. “Yes.”

“There are plushies of his bunny, just like yours here. Would you like one?” you ask gently and Minjun nods with wide eyes. “Then you can cuddle it if he's not here.”

Minjun nods contently, curling up with the plushie. "Night, Y/nnie."

"Goodnight, Minjun. Sweet dreams," you whisper, turning off the light and leaving the door slightly ajar.

Once Minjun is asleep, you sink onto the couch, the quiet of the house settling around you. You're startled by the sound of the front door opening—Minho is home.

He looks exhausted, the lines of his face deeper, his eyes shadowed. But when he sees you, a smile, tired yet genuine, crosses his lips.

"Hey," he greets softly, dropping his keys into the bowl by the door.

"Hey," you reply, standing to meet him. "Rough day?"

"You could say that," Minho sighs, pulling you into a hug. It's a long, tight embrace, one that speaks volumes.

As you pull back, you hold his gaze. "Talk to me," you encourage.3

Minho shakes his head slightly, a weary chuckle escaping him. "Just the usual chaos. But coming back to this—coming back to you—it helps more than you might think."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the simplicity of his statement underscoring the depth of your growing bond. "I'm glad," you murmur, your hands resting on his arms.

"We didn't get much time earlier... to talk about... us," Minho hesitates, searching your face for signs of what you might be feeling.

"No, we didn’t," you agree, feeling the momentous weight of the conversation that looms between you. "But we’re here now. We can talk."

Minho nods, taking a deep breath. "I meant what I said earlier, before everything with Yejun. I love you, Y/nnie. I know it’s complicated, and I know my life is... a lot. But I want you in it, in every way."

The earnestness in his voice, the open vulnerability—he’s offering you his heart, and it’s yours to take. You smile, your decision clear. "I love you too, Minho. And I’m in this. All of it, with you," you say.

The relief that washes over Minho's face is evident. He pulls you close again, his lips finding yours in a kiss that seals the promise of a future together, come what may. In that moment, wrapped up in each other, the challenges that lie ahead seem manageable. With love as your anchor, you both feel ready to face whatever comes next, together.

PART THREE | PART FIVE

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves @lost-in-avoidance @moonchild9350 @spicxbnny @queer-possum @james-is-here @roriiror @minholover1 @cb97s-laptop @iknowyouknowminho @iatethem @constrellar

189 notes · View notes

love-lilly02 · 6 months

Text

The Challenge- Ch. 7

An- hey. (drops random half edited chapter that’s probably the shortest one i’ve ever written) see ya🚶🏾‍♀️

A total of two months, three and a half weeks and six days.

That was how long you had been MIA. Each time another day was added to that count, you grew more restless than before. You wanted to go home, to sleep in your bed, eat american food, damnit just to have a different color shirt to wear.

And yet you were still stuck here.

Each day started off the same. You would wake up at the ass crack of dawn, eat something akin to breakfast with Nikolai and wait to see if today was the day you were going back. Instead, he would silently place a knife on the table— some days it was different— and walk out of the room. The same routine, every day. for the past two months.

It was enough to drive any normal person insane. and it had almost driven you insane, definitely would have if you weren’t in the military.

You had managed to work up the courage to ask why he didn’t immediately send you back one day, why he tolerated you staying with him for this long.

“If i send you back they do things different. Look at you oddly, treat you weirder. Here you can rest, regain your skills.” He had said, not pausing to spare you a glance.

“I take you back when you ready.”

according to him, you had not been ready in a long time.

you never really gave up hope. Not actually, you knew logically at some point he had to bring you back to them. And going back on your own was a suicide mission, one even worse than the thing that had gotten you into this mess. So you waited.

If it took five months or seven years, you would wait.

Kate Laswell was a woman of action.

She knew this for a fact, it had been thrown back into her face so many times she lost body parts to count it. Which is why your disappearance bothered her so much. You were a person of action as well, it’s what prompted her to introduce you to the 141. So then why had you been MIA for the past three months? The thought sat there constantly, turning even the best days sour.

That, and what you were doing to the team.

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out, although you did have to look a bit harder to see the changes. Especially in people like Ghost and Price, whereas Kyle and Soap might as well have worn their emotions on their sleeves. She wished she could do something to help, to find where exactly you were. Or if you were alive, even.

All given evidence suggested otherwise.

She had replayed the shitty camera footage of your disappearance, watched it frame by frame, pixel by pixel. Mutiple times, and she couldn’t figure out how there could be a way for you to get out of there. It just wouldn’t have added up.

But she didn’t give up there, of course she wouldn’t.

She kept searching, looking for any sign of you. As a civilian, one of the russian’s captives, anyone. anything could come into play, you were a smart girl and everyone knew it.

Unfortunately, that also meant you could cover up your tracks well.

It took another month for anything good to come up. And that something good came as salvation always does.

In the form of a call.

John had made an attempt to push the situation out of his mind, to allow you to handle your own business. His thoughts screamed at him to be more active, to do something more, but there was literally nothing for it.

Or so he thought.

The call came in while he was walking out of a meeting, silently dreading the mound of paperwork he would now have to do. When he saw the caller ID he had to do a double take, and he rushed to answer the call.

“Nik?”

“Captain. It’s been a while, no?”

“Damn right it has. Makes me scared.”

His old friend laughed, and Price could imagine the way he was shaking his head.

“Yes, yes. But i have gift—what? okay, okay sheesh. I have… surprise… for you.”

Price just stared. “Is there someone else there? What’s goin on Nik?”

There was silence on the other end of the line, then a lot of rusting.

“Um. Hey.”

Price almost dropped the phone.

The process of getting you back wasn’t as hard as they thought it would be, but it certainly took a very long time.

In reality it took two weeks. But to them each day felt like a decade.

The entire flight took 11 hours, and they weren’t allowed to meet you halfway (something about using military vehicles for non military purposes. all four boys thought that was absolute bull shit but they couldn’t do anything about it) So they did the next best thing.

wait.

And they waited. and waited. Each time a chopper landed on the helipad they were rushing to the window, seeing if it was you. It got to the point that they had someone constantly surveying that area of the base, just so they could be immediately notified.

And finally, finally you were back.

It was a whole ordeal, theatrics that even soap had to roll his eyes at. The moment you got off the plane you were swamped with people asking questions, doctors trying to assess how you were alive and unharmed, people just staring in awe.

But you ignored them all, scanning the crowd with a panicked expression. It didn’t disappear till you saw the four of them, standing far, far away from the mob of people surrounding you.

Nik walked out behind you, placing a steadying hand on your shoulder. The two of you made your way down the ramp to the group, and Price smiled for the first time in a long time when he saw you.

“Welcome back, kid.”

this was gona be an akward chapter anyways, i had NO idea how to write the reader's return. I'll make it up to you guys next time, pinkie promise

My Masterist

#cod x reader #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #poly 141 #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost x reader

130 notes · View notes

emjee · 4 months

Text

hiiiiiiiiii I've had three glasses of wine and here's a WIP preview of the fic I'm calling "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood (Library)" (aka Steve Rogers gets a library card circa 2011 and quickly learns about Librarians Vs. The PATRIOT Act)

“I can help who’s next.”

The next man in line at the reference desk of the Brooklyn Public Library was so handsome that Marian’s brain quickly supplied a list of five potential nicknames for him that the staff could use among themselves if he became a regular.

“Hi, I was uh, wondering about getting a library card?”

“Sure, I can help you with that! Are you a Brooklyn resident?”

“For a long time.”

“Have you had a card with us before? If you have I’ll check and see if you’re still in our system.”

“I did, but it was a very long time ago.” Neighborhood kid, she wondered, maybe just moved back to the old stomping grounds?

“Well, we keep the records for a couple of years, and we do like to check so we avoid duplicates. What would the name on file have been?”

“Is there something else you can search by?”

“If it’s under a name you don’t use we can try address and date of birth.”

“My birthday’s July 4th.”

A year would have been helpful, but they could circle back to that. “What’s it like sharing a birthday with a country?” she asked as she started typing.

“Well, the fireworks always made me feel special when I was a kid.”

“I’m sure. Do you remember what address we might have had on file?”

He took a moment to reply, and when he did his voice was calm, but soft enough that she had to learn forward to hear him. “I don’t think it’s there anymore.”

House fire? Gentrification?

This sort of thing happened from time to time—a patron came in who clearly had a story that made getting them what they needed less straightforward that it might otherwise have been. That wasn’t a problem; sorting that sort of thing was literally what the fine people of Brooklyn paid her for, but she was always curious about people’s stories. Sometimes they told you, sometimes they didn’t. She wasn’t going to ask, though. Curiosity or no, it was ultimately none of her business.

“None of that’s a problem,” she assured him. “I can make you a new card right now, if you have an ID and proof of address. Driver’s license would work for both, or a passport, state ID, student ID plus a piece of mail…”

“This is going to sound like a silly question, probably…” He looked at the ceiling, like he was trying to figure out how to phrase it.

“No such thing,” she said lightly. “Besides, we’ve probably heard it before. Probably ten times a day.”

“If I do get a card, does anyone…know? Besides you all, I mean.”

Marian sat straighter in her chair and immediately became all business. “Not a silly question at all. Any record that identifies you by name is confidential under New York state law. We don’t even let law enforcement have it.”

A genuine grin dawned on his face and she immediately thought of three more possible nicknames. “Seriously?”

“Not unless they’ve got a warrant or a subpoena.”

“Huh. But it would have to be under my legal name?”

“We do need to have it on file, but if you have a name you’d rather use, we can make a note in the record. That’s the name your mail would come addressed to, and what the staff would call you.”

She watched him glance down, smile, and put a hand in his pocket.

“Yeah,” he said, producing his wallet and handing her his ID. “In that case.”

She set the ID on the counter in front of her while she opened a new card registration form and didn’t give it a proper look until she had her hands on the keyboard.

Well. That certainly explained a lot.

After entering ROGERS STEVEN GRANT into the record in a rapid clatter of keyboard strokes, she glanced back up at him and said, “What would you like me to put in the preferred name field.”

He gave it a moment’s thought. “Fred.”

She couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Excellent choice. Same last name?”

“Joke’s not as good if I change it.”

“Fair point.” She grabbed a fresh card from the drawer and scanned the barcode into the system, then saved the record. “Welcome to the Brooklyn Public Library, Mr. Rogers.”

#fic #mine #steve rogers #captain america #wip #mg says stuff #fixed the typos thank u augacity #best friend for this very reason

117 notes · View notes

loveshotzz · 6 months

Note

pretend i wrote this when you were sick - pretend it's also not this long. also sorry if it looks like there are parts missing.

He's on his third call while he waits at the door in the early spring breeze, unbottoned work shirt billowing with him -- silently chastising himself for not throwing on a sweater since you told him to do it before he left. He presses the bell again, hearing it go off in the house for the second time, anxiety brewing in his chest. He'd never seen you so sick, and even though the doctor said it was just a bad flu, seeing you in bed like this made his heart pound. He wasn't sleeping, had been working from home the past few days. He'd set up shop right outside the hall of the bedroom, ignoring his office so he could hear if you called out to him -- Bandit dutifully keeping watch over you at the end of the bed. It was something he wasn't expecting to affect him like this, his thoughts getting clouded with the sound of hospital monitors and oxygen machines.

You did your best to understand and assure him you're okay -- you're just kind of a baby about being sick. Lucky for Steve, he's been loving a chance to get to baby you - despite the ache it causes to see you like this.

But the babying would start even quicker if the front door of the house he was in front of would open.

"Honey, am I gonna have to file a report? You can't just be showing up to my house -- I got a wife at home," the tease comes from a familiar smoky voice, "Do you really want her to find out about us?"

"I called three times," Steve huffs, "I said I'd only be gone for ten minutes."

"Do you really think she's counting? She's probably asleep. Plus, you're a minute man," Eddie winks, beckoning him into the house, "And if she calls you can run right home, you're around the fuck--effing corner."

"Yeah, you're around the effing corner, Big Guy," Gwen's tiny voice repeats from the island in the kitchen.

"Gwendolyn," Eddie warns. "Sorry," she whispers back, "I won' say id again."

"Thank you, doll," he smiles, "Can you ask mommy to bring the soup and meds we packed up for your aunt so we can give it to Steve?" She patters away with her light up sneakers glinting pink and purple with every step, disappearing into the house only to run back winded a few minutes later. "Mommy said you have two hands that work just fine so you can get it," she smiles, not fully understanding what she means, "And then she said to say please after. Please!"

Steve snorts, "Yeah, loser, go grab my shi--stuff."

Eddie rolls his eyes, "Whatever."

As her father leaves, Gwen climbs back up on the bar stool and looks up at Steve curiously, "So when does she get to come back over?"

"When she feels better, angel," he smiles, "Why?"

She shrugs, "I dunno, I like when she comes over 'cause then it's not just you."

His mouth gapes with a smile, "What do you mean? Am I not enough for you?"

Gwen shrugs in the way four year olds shrug when they're feeling sneaky, "She's juss funner, Big Guy." "Do you hear this?!" Steve gasps as Eddie re-enters, "She doesn't think I'm as fun."

"You haven't been playing 'Cool Barbies' with her, lately," Eddie shrugs, popping the two tote bags filled with sick day amenities on the table, "Ow, ow Lu, don't pull daddy's hair, please." "It's okay Luce, you can do whatever you want," Steve coos to the baby on Eddie's hip, grabbing the bags and putting them over his shoulder. He leans forward to kiss her only for Eddie to step away.

"Dude, not with your potential flu germs -- they're picking up enough sh--stuff at daycare," Eddie says, taking the baby's pudgy hand and waving, "Say byyyyeee Big Guy." "Bah," Lucy gurgles in her post nap haze, head resting heavily on Eddie's shoulder. "Bye, Big Guy," Gwen smiles, hugging him at the knees, "Tell Auntie-I-said-hi-and-I-miss-her-and-love-her-and-that-she-is-so-pretty-and-that-I-have-new-Barbies."

"I will tell her, thank you for the message," Steve nods, chest hammering again at the thought of you sick and bed without him. He flicks his head up at Eddie, "Tell Peach I said hi."

"Yeah, I'll tell her somethin' alright," he half grumbles, hoisting Lucy higher up on his hip. Steve blows Gwen a kiss before making it back to you in the quick trip is takes to get back to your place. He knocks softly before stepping in, hearing your soft 'hm?' that sets his whole body a buzz with affection. "I have..." he starts, opening the bags, "Two quarts of Peach's famous 'sick soup', a shit ton of orange juice, 800mg motrin, a card from Gwen, a drawing from Gwen, three new pairs of fuzzy socks, a toy for Bandit? Okay..." He lists off the rest of the care package before looking at you with a smirk, "And absolutely nothing for me." "I can gib you someding," you murmur out with a stuffed nose, "I can gib you a kiss." "Ooh, how about I give you a kiss tough girl?" he asks, chestnut hair falling into his eyes as he leans down to kiss your forehead. His lips are warms against your clammy skin, enough to soothe you back into a cozy half sleep under the covers, "How're you feelin'?" "Dired," you admit, "Bud I could really use thad soup." "Okay," he nods, "I'll heat it up for you." He gets back to the door looking back with a soft gaze on you, thinking of Lucy's face and how it looks when you hold her on your hip, how you look when you play Barbies with Gwen. How it would look when there's a baby that's the perfect blend of the two of you bouncing on your lap, when there's a baby monitor in the bedroom, when you're both complaining about germs at daycare. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it before going downstairs. Right now, babying you is just enough.

CAROL!!!! Stop 😩 I physically cannot handle this amount of yearning. What have you done to me?!? I’m still sick (it won’t go away) so this was still perfect. Of course he’s imagining getting me pregnant while taking care of me, ILL GIVE THAT OLD MAN ANYTHING HE WANTS!!

Also shout out to the number one couple here and that’s ocs!eddie and airwiy!steve. I love that the little glimpse we get of them living close to each other now and the little growth of the munson family 🥺

#asks #WE’RE GWEN’S FAVORITE OVER STEVE #that’s what I thought #my heart is full #carol 💅🏻#all i really want is you #orange colored sky #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #older!steve harrington

102 notes · View notes

vivalas-vega · 4 months

Text

longshot / part one / bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader

heyooo! new fic alert - with bradley !!! i'm not sure i even want to call this part one as it's more of an intro but here we are. super excited to finally be writing for mr. bradshaw, and even more excited to be revisiting this idea from back when this was exclusively a star wars blog and my writing was ass compared to now (professor poe dameron, anyone?) anyways, i wanted to get this out to get some feedback -- as always please please please let me know what you think !!!

longshot / part one / bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader (nickname dove!)

follow my taglist blog and turn on notifications to be updated @vegaslibrary

word count: 1.4k

warnings: mention of parental death -- general warnings going forward: typical 18+ content (drinking, swearing, smut, the works), me not knowing anything about college - this is my ideal world where everything works how I want it to not how it probably is :) (prob should mention this is not an au)

You relaxed as you stood in the aisle of the dimly-lit bookstore, taking in a deep breath of that new book smell and coffee from the in-house cafe, a smell so recognizable you almost felt the urge to cry as you reminisced. Your fingers nimbly opened a book, eyes scanning the description hidden within but you weren’t really absorbing the words so you closed it with a soft thud and slid it back onto the shelf. You continued to make your way through the store, thoughts as scattered as your approach to book shopping tonight but that was because you weren’t really shopping at all.

You weren’t even entirely sure why you’d come in, the comfort of your old college hangout called out to offer solace on your drive home and you couldn’t resist. You felt like the walls were caving in and to be standing in such a meaningful place, looking the same as it ever did, wrapped you in a sense of security. Your guard was beginning to drop for what felt like the first time in years and it was in that exact moment that you bumped into a familiar stranger, their voice raising the hairs on the back of your neck and flooding you with memories of a different time.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, let me help you…”

“Shit, my bad. Let me get that,” the handsome stranger that had just walked straight into you quickly knelt to pick up the books you’d both dropped. You felt your cheeks flush as you suddenly felt embarrassed, your wits already weren’t about you this morning and here you were colliding into the solid man currently gathering up your belongings in a perfectly fitted button up with a mustache that shouldn’t have worked and beautiful brown eyes.

“That’s alright, everyone needs a little jolt to keep them awake in the mornings,” you replied easily. You wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t checking him out, and it only made you flush further as he handed you your things, “Professor Bradshaw?” you asked, gesturing to the ID badge pinned to his pants and he nodded. “Weird coincidence, I was actually on my way to introduce myself to you,” you said before giving him your name, trying to put your earlier thoughts out of your head as his warm hand wrapped around yours to shake.

“Ah, yes… you applied to be my teaching assistant,” he said and you nodded.

“Figured it would be harder to tell me no if I came to pitch myself in person,” you chuckled.

“I take it you haven’t checked your email yet this morning?” he asked and you gave him a confused look. “Save the elevator pitch, I was inviting you to coffee to get to know you better and go over expectations.”

“Expectations? Does that mean I got it?” you asked, excitement palpable. “I thought you only accepted students who had taken your class before?”

“Decided to make an exception for you,” he replied with an easy smile. “Does three work for you? Here?”

You nodded, “absolutely, I’ll see you then. I promise you won’t regret this, Professor Bradshaw.”

“Please, call me Bradley.”

“Professor Bradshaw,” you said with a smirk as he looked up at you, and he quickly fumbled with the books before standing to give you a proper once over.

“Professor,” he sighed, “you know I hate that.”

“I know,” you responded. “Nice to see that this is still your go-to spot.”

“Old habits die hard,” he chuckled, “are you back home because of your parents?” he asked and you nodded, and you didn’t miss the solemn expression that passed over his features before he quickly corrected it. “I’m so sorry, Dove.”

You smiled softly, “haven’t heard that name in a while,” you replied, dodging past his condolences entirely.

“Sometimes I forget it’s not actually your name,” he chuckled. “Half expect the banner at the bottom of the screen to say Dove and I’m always shocked when it doesn’t.”

“You’ve been watching?” you asked, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Of course I have,” he replied as if it would have been absurd for him not to. You lapsed into comfortable silence as the two of you drank each other in, noting what had changed and what had stayed the same… you had to keep from squinting at him because he looked the same as he did four years ago, maybe the lines around his eyes were a little deeper when he smiled but it was the only indication that any time had passed at all.

You were taller, which he couldn’t reconcile until he glanced down and saw the stilettos on your feet, sharp and black and perfectly matching the black suit vest and jeans you wore. Your style was the same, classic and a little academic with an edge, only now it seemed more elevated, you seemed more elevated.

“How long have you been in town?” he finally asked.

“Only a few days,” you answered, “feel like my head is spinning with how unchanged everything is… and this certainly isn’t helping my deja vu,” you chuckled.

“If I remember correctly this is right about the same spot you ran into me all those years ago,” he said, looking around and you gave him an incredulous look.

“Me? It was you who ran into me, just like you did a few minutes ago,” you said through a laugh and he shrugged.

“He said she said,” he replied as you shook your head. “Well, how long are you here for?”

“Indefinitely, I’m afraid,” you said and he gave you a confused look. “Dealing with typical dead parents stuff, turns out there’s a lot more to it than one would think.”

He nodded in understanding, “yeah, no one prepares you for all the paperwork.”

“That and they were too busy to keep up on the house… I always knew it needed some love but I’ve got a contractor telling me it basically needs a top to bottom renovation,” you sighed. “But hey, it’s a nice distraction from Capitol Hill.”

“You’re not rushing to get back?”

“God no, if I even go back at all,” you said with a soft laugh and now he was really surprised. “Oh,” you said, suddenly a little self conscious about how much you’d already said in this bookstore aisle, “I’m keeping you.”

He shook his head, “you’re not. It’s not everyday I run into my favorite student,” he said and you couldn’t help but flush.

“Still? Guess I set the bar too high,” you teased and he nodded.

“If only you knew,” he chuckled. “I would love to see you again though, actually catch up if you have any free time?”

You smiled as you fished your phone out of your bag, “I would love that,” you said as you exchanged phones to input your numbers.

“I’ll text you,” he said and you were about to part ways but you were unsure of how to do so… you didn’t want to simply walk away, but you didn’t know if a handshake were too formal or a hug too personal, but he made the decision for you, already seeing the gears turning in your head as he opened his arms subtly and you softly laughed as you stepped in, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “It really is good to see you, Dove.”

“You too, Rooster,” you replied and he gave you a squeeze before letting you go as he laughed.

“Still regret telling you that.”

“What? You can use my callsign but I can’t use yours?” you asked with a smirk as you started walking backwards away from him.

“You don’t have a callsign!”

“Then what’s Dove?” you retorted and he didn’t have an answer, and so you gave him a soft nod as you turned for the register, and as you checked out you were unable to keep the smile off your face. Everything about returning home had been jarring, but not this… not him. Your favorite professor, your mentor, maybe even your friend towards the end of your working relationship. Your mind had been reeling as you tried to piece together what life would be like now with your career up in the air and your parents gone, and for the first time in weeks you felt like maybe this trip home wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

98 notes · View notes

the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 2 years

Text

#331

“Well, well, well. Lookie here. When I heard that there was a faggot in the woods behind the rest area shithouse taking load after load in the early morning, I didn’t give it a second thought. I figured it was one of those San Francisco flag waving faggots passing through. It wasn’t until my truck driving buddy sent me a video of you getting plowed by this farmer looking guy and you were begging him to breed you right after you took my buddy’s load in your cunt and he pissed in your face. I had to see for myself. And here you are….

“You are handcuffed, naked, on your knees, head bowed, and crying like a total bitch. You know something’s up when I didn’t bring you in to the station, but rather took you here. You have been kneeling in that position for twenty minutes processing what’s going to happen to you. Well, let me tell you.

“Normally, had you been one of those faggots from the city, your ass would have been hauled in. But you are local, granted from the other side of the mountain pass. Yeah, I grabbed your clothes including your ID after I handcuffed you and placed you naked in the back of my squad car. After a quick search through my systems and then some independent internet searches I see you are a 52-year-old divorced father of four, three of which are on their own and the fourth lives with your ex-wife across the state. Being 6’ 4”, it’s obvious from the pile of hairy beef kneeling in front of me that your 320-pounds mostly comes from a long history of working as foreman at Hilbert construction after twelve years as a Sargent in the Marine Corps. Your ID says your name is Doyle Allen Delong, but I see you like to go by Allen or even more informally your initials, DAD to your crew.

“I did find that twenty years ago you were arrested for public sexual indecency at a public bathroom outside San Diego, but that charge got dropped. Interesting.

“Now I bet due to the torrential rain last night and the rain forecasted for this afternoon, construction has come to a halt today. That gave you the opportunity to be a cumdump for truck drivers beginning their day, and you made a bee line here. Now did I get any of that wrong?...

“Your silence speaks volumes. And I am assuming you are invoking your right to remain silent. Well let me address your rights here. You have none. You ain’t being arrested….

“Well that changed your demeanor. Look up. Look at me. Yeah, I figured as much. You are still hungry for cock, and you are salivating staring at my cock. Well bitch, you are going to get it. This isn’t some random spot I pulled you out of my cruiser. This is the backside of my property. Behind you and over the hill is my stable, and then another hill to my home. Since your work day went to shit, you have the entire day to spend buck naked in my stable like a beast that needs to be broken.

“I don’t need to ask your permission; your hard on tells me everything I need to know. Damn! That is one giant pecker you have there. Too bad it’s going to be ignored for the rest of the day. When I approached you spread over that fallen tree, I saw you had your cock and balls tucked under your belly so no one can see. I bet you did that so that no one would pay attention to it. I don’t think you can fit into my biggest cock cage. Fuck, you are leaking.

“Damn, this is some slimy leak. So you like being naked on your knees, hands cuffed behind you, your dick betraying an idea of you being any type of alpha male. I bet it kills you to be a foreman, bossing your men around knowing they are more of a man than you. I bet you fantasize about them pulling a train on you. I was a First Lieutenant in the Army. I know that you Marines are all alike. Either you are a sadistic bastard or the most depraved cumdump animal. Either you want to control, or you want to be controlled. There’s hardly a middle ground.

“You haven’t said one damned thing yet. You know it’s true. You know you want to be under the control of a natural superior, one who will put you in your place and expect you to remain there.

“I assume you have no plans for this weekend. If you do, you will be canceling them. You are going to be my beast, my animal. I’ll lock a hood on you, and a remote-controlled shock collar made explicitly to control animals. I have about 8 to 10 guys that I will invite over to use you. Your cunt and toilet mouth will be used continually throughout the weekend.

“So will your cock. I think I'm changing what I said earlier. There is no way that baseball bat is going to be ignored. I’m in control of it. There will probably be slaves over; their owners will want to see them get fucked by a beast like you. The thing is beasts don’t show mercy when they fuck, neither will you. The more savage the better.

“What you say, you want to be my beast, my animal for the weekend?

“…Are you cumming? Jesus Christ! You are. Fuck! Let it go. Damn! I've never seen a no handed eruption like that. That’s an impressive load. I hope you can remain hard throughout this weekend, if not, there are injections to keep you hard.

“I don’t care if you lose interest. You will be expected to perform continually. As you can tell, I am horned up. My dick needs attention, and you ass is going to provide it.

“Jesus! Now that is a fuckable ass if ever I saw one. Here lean forward, let me guide you down. Get that cunt up in the air. My driver friend said you were a sloppy fuck.

“And he was right. How many loads are up here?... Shut up! Animals don’t fucking speak. Grunt your answer. Four? It feels like a lot more. Fuck! After I dump my load in you, I’ll plug you up. Then tonight, I’ll have you dump the cum stew on the concrete in front of everybody. Then I will have you lick it up so they can see what kind of disgusting animal you are.

“Oh fuck, I’m getting close here. Clamp down. Jesus! You aren’t all stretched out. Here it comes. Uh! Uh! Ahhhhh! Ah! Fuck!

“Fucking hell. Clamp down further; I’m pulling out. There. You made a fucking mess on my trousers. I’m going to have to change them. Let me get you over on your back.

“You’re a fucking mess. You are probably thirsty. Open up that toilet mouth, and drink what you can. Ahh….

“Damn, you are one beefy beast. Normally I shave my slaves, but there is no way in hell I am going to touch one hair on you. Your chest is perfect. Your nips look a bit soft. Titty clamps will be in your future, angry ones.

“Close your mouth. We need to get you collared, hooded, plugged, chained up, and installed in the stable to start this weekend. Is there anyone we need to notify? I need to call a guy to get your work truck here.

“If you work out this weekend, you may be spending a lot more time here than you did at that rest stop.

“Grunt me your ‘Thank you SIR’… Atta cunt!”

2K notes · View notes

beansprean · 2 years

Text

Why is Stu working at a Sunoco in Staten Island, you say? Why don't u mind ya business! God forbid werewolves do anything.

My Familiar's Ghost part 8

Masterpost

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Wide shot of a Sunoco gas station at night, the pumps empty, an open sign glowing red at the door. In the foreground, Nandor and Colin are walking toward it, backs to the viewer. Colin, now wearing a wool coat, pipes up "Nandor, did you know if your hand is bigger than your face, you have cancer?" Nandor replies shortly, "I am a vampire, Colin Robinson, I cannot get the cancer." Colin responds, "Right. Can't be too careful, though."

2a. Close up of Colin doing a talking head. With a wry smile, he explains, "Yeah, I've been experimenting with early 2000s-based humor." 2b. His voiceover continues over the next panel: "My housemates seem mostly immune, but reminding millennials how old they are provides a remarkably quick drain." Overlayed in sepia, we see Colin in another scene, sitting next to a young woman on a bus. He looks at his phone and remarks, "Huh. Shrek was released 21 years ago today." The woman next to him immediately slumps over and slams her head against the bus window, fully asleep and drooling.

3a. Back at the Sunoco, Nandor and Colin have reached the door. Nandor grins triumphantly, pointing toward a sign that reads "Please come in!" Colin smiles and gives him a thumbs up. 3b. Shot from inside the Sunoco from behind the counter, showing a close up of an employee stocking cigarettes. The employee is a white man in his 40s with lank dark blonde hair and three large pink scars on his forehead and cheek. His name tag says "Stu". He glances over to the side as there is a loud rattling at the door, and offscreen we hear Nandor griping "I thought that would work! Fucking door!" Colin snaps back, "It says push!" Nandor just responds with an "Oh," and the door opens with a ding.

4a. Stu turns around to face the new customers, starting to say "Welcome to-" before Nandor leans in on the counter and cuts him off, wiggling his hand in front of Stu's face. Nandor uses his best hypnosis voice, speech bubble glowing green, to command "Smelly shop worker, you will tell me the whereabouts of the one called Eric-" "Derek," Colin corrects, sidling up to him with a patient smile. "Derek," Nandor finishes. 4b. Reverse shot, extreme closeup of Nandor and Colin in the foreground facing each other, Stu framed between their profiles in the background. Stu looks mildly perturbed but unhypnotized as he replies, "Oh, uh. I'm not allowed to give out employee information." Nandor hisses to Colin, "It's no use! He doesn't want to tell us!" Colin drawls back, "You're really crap at this hypnosis thing, huh?"

5a. Reverse shot, Colin says "Step aside for the pro," and plants a hand on Nandor's chest to move him back, stepping confidently in front to face Stu. Nandor looks ruffled but allows the switch. Colin points upwards and asks, "Say, is that a Panasonic WV-S3131L security camera? I prefer the Argo system myself. You really can't beat the 4K resolution..." 5b. Shot from behind Nandor's head as he waits, Colin and Stu conversing quietly with blank speech bubbles. 5c. Colin turns and rushes back over to Nandor, looking a little panicked as he explains, "Well, that didn't work. He was actually interested in what I was saying!" Nandor puts a hand to his chin thoughtfully and narrows his eyes at Stu, who is standing behind the counter staring at him with a question mark over his head. Nandor declares, "This guy is crafty...we need a new plan." /end ID

#wwdits #my familiars ghost #nandor the relentless #colin robinson #what we do in the shadows fx #what we do in the shadows #nandermo #stu wwdits #my art #fanart #image described

803 notes · View notes

ashiemochi · 2 years

Text

tangerines and oranges - lsk

✠ tangerines and oranges ↳ don't they both taste the same? ➶pairing: ID! Leon S Kennedy x (FEM) Reader ➶genre: angst to fluff ➶Content includes: contemplating suicide, mild mention of sex, super old writing like this shit was written in 2018, some won't make sense and that's okay, might find her/she pronouns instead of you bc my proofreading skills are dogshit <3 ➶WC: 1.9k A/N: short and sweet blurb whilst I work on the smut one!! shouldn't take too long - might post it tomorrow <3

The kettle softly whistled in the background, the sound echoing in the kitchen where you sat. Today was probably one the worst day you had ever gone through. Time itself seemed so slow, stretching ever so widely just to irritate you. It was like nature as a whole was against you just for shits and giggles.

Even the thought of hiring a hitman to take care of you had crossed your mind; just a quick and silent death. You wouldn’t mind seeing God or burning in Hell if it meant you could leave Earth for a bit. You wondered why you were even breathing in the first place.

You didn’t sign up for this Life thing.

Your tired eyes blinked lazily at the tiny eight-legged-demon-from-Hell, unfazed as it just used its freaky long legs to walk along the counter. You would’ve screamed bloody murder, packed your bags, ran out of the flat, and burned it down.

But you didn’t.

Tilting your head slightly at it, your dead eyes bore at it. A question ran through your mind. Was it poisonous, you wondered?

Finally, your mind seemed to slowly rewind everything that happened today.

Your alarm clock decided to give you the middle finger and not ring like it was supposed to, causing you to miss the train to your job. Your stomach continued making grumbling sounds, incredibly disappointed with the fact that it didn’t get its breakfast nor did you have the money to buy lunch.

Your clumsy co-worker had tripped over his shoelaces again, causing your papers to get showered with coffee. Your boss almost popped a vein at how the logo you designed looked more like a tangerine than an orange; you didn’t even get the chance to remind him that they both look the same. While printing out a paper, the printer decided to swallow the paper to oblivion with a big fuck you.

One of your clients was a dick wad of a boomer who has the tendency to remind you each day that technology is killing the environment but then requests another digital painting of his dog.

You lost count of how many times he had requested the same painting of the same dog. Later you learned that he can be forgetful. Hence the constant reminders of how the very evil technology is killing the very innocent generation.

You had forgotten that you had a presentation today and ended up getting scolded by your uptight boss in front of all of your co-workers. That resulted in extra work and a late-night shift.

You wondered if the clumsy co-worker had cursed you since when you got your cup of coffee, you accidentally hit it, sending it all over your clothes.

At night, after everyone had left to go to their warm and lovely homes, you had to stay in the office with your boss and his wife.

Even your headphones couldn’t block out the disgusting, lips-smacking, and probably even skin, noises. You could swear that they would repopulate Earth worldwide if they would stop using condoms.

Your sister called you, telling you that your parents aren’t going to be able to attend this year’s Christmas. You had to redesign the logo again and show it to your boss, who was, unfortunately, three inches deep into his wife when you opened the door.

At that moment in your life, you deeply wished that God would bleach out your eyes or miraculously make you blind.

And God answered your prayer; by making you accidentally set a heavy file on your specs. You cringed visibly at the cracking sound.

Hoping you’d catch the train before the weather would decide to give you a middle finger; you got caught under the heavy rain that soaked you to the bone, making you look like a street rat.

Curse the weather and its indecisiveness.

By the time you had gotten home, your stomach was beginning to ache for food, almost internally stabbing itself.

And there you were, sitting on the counter with your damp sweater and messy, wet hair. Blinking once more, the eight-legged monstrosity had vanished. The memory itself of the day made your body’s function slow even more, making you slump slightly.

Tomorrow was another day and you still had work to do.

Feeling very overwhelmed, your vision blurred with tears behind your cracked specs. Taking in a trembling breath, you brought your hand up to run it through your knotted hair. You winced slightly at a new forming bruise on the back of your head that you had gotten when your head hit the door on your hurried way out of your boss’s office.

The entire universe was against you at this point.

You let out a shaky sigh, hoping that taking deep breaths would assist you with containing your tears, but even that was failing. Oh, how you wished you could just vanish to the ends of the universe.

The sound of keys jiggling and the front door opening caused your heart to skip a beat. His deep and loving voice reached your ears in a floating melody.

You wanted to greet him, but feeling your body aching and it might as well be dead; you just sat there on the counter.

“Y/N, I'm home.”

The lump in your throat would be a dead giveaway if you even utter a simple letter, but then you heard his footsteps getting closer to the lit kitchen. You barely looked at him when he made his presence known.

His smile dropped as his eyes scanned you from head to toe.

Your once soft orange-coloured knitted sweater now had a big dark brown stain. Your black skirt had smears and dots of what seemed like a correction pen. Both of your socks were intact and well, but your left sock wasn’t even attached to your inner belt, making it fall and roll beneath your knee while the other was all the way up your thigh.

Your hair might as well be a birds’ nest and your face was just tired. Not only did that make him worry, but the tears behind your broken specs were now threatening to escape.

“Y/N?” Leon questioned, getting worried by the second.

You only sniffled, taking a deep breath before letting out a small but tight hi, whilst casting your eyes away.

His brows furrowed as he walked into the kitchen, making his way to the counter to put the white plastic bag that he was holding. He seemed as if he was quietly waiting for you to speak out but taking notice of how hard you were gripping the edge of the counter to the point your knuckles would resemble the white of the snow, he knew you were holding back.

“Sweetheart, what happened?”

You could hear the worry oozing from his lips as he moved towards you, trying to take a good look at your face. Your shoulders slightly shrugged as your teeth bit down onto the bottom of your lips, setting your eyes on the kettle.

You didn’t feel like talking at all, only praying that you would get sniped out of this God-awful day. His hips settled between your legs and your tears were just teasing you at this point when his big hands gently cupped your cheeks, making your eyes meet.

His azures immediately softened when he saw the broken and exhausted look etched on your face. A frown reached his lips when he noticed the lightening shape of the cracks in your specs and with the tips of his fingers; he gently removed them, giving him a clear look at your eyes.

You cussed internally when a tear rolled down your cheek, betraying you.

“Honey, did something happen?" Leon asked softly, as if afraid he'd break her, "Why are you crying?”

Your bottom lip trembled as the lump in your throat was getting heavier to swallow. Finally, you looked at him behind the thick walls of your tears and your cheeks flushed red at the close proximity.

“Today sucked so... Fucking bad...” You uttered weakly, your voice seemed to be tight and squeezed.

Leon blinked at this and you broke down, allowing your tears to run freely down your reddened cheeks. Without even hesitating, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close to his embrace.

Your cries were weak and small but filled and etched with pain as your fingers gripped the back of his blue suit jacket. Ever so slowly, his fingers tangled your hair between them, lightly pushing you closer to him.

It seemed like an eternity just being in his arms but you felt incredibly safe and invisible to the world. For once, all your bottled-up emotions for this day were poured through your tears. Even when your tears had stopped, only leaving behind a heaving chest with minor hiccups, you still stayed in his embrace.

“You ready to talk about it?” The richness in his voice made your body almost melt against his warmth.

Pressing your face into the crook of his neck, you ever so slightly nodded, letting out a small hum. You stayed like this for a good few seconds before pulling away slightly.

His blueblue orbs were filled with love as he gave you a gentle smile, wiping away your tears with his thumb. He leaned in, pressing a lingering and loving kiss on your forehead.

Suddenly, the kettle began whistling loudly and both of them looked at it. Leon moved away to turn the stove off and he noticed a mug with the chocolate and milk powder jars and a small cup with a teaspoon beside it.

“Hot chocolate?” He questioned, looking at you from over his shoulders.

You nodded silently, using your sleeves to wipe away the remaining of your tears as you sniffled quietly.

He hummed, opening the cupboard as he asked, “How about you change and I’ll make us hot chocolate?”

You looked at him, “Aren’t you tired from today’s training?” She asked, already feeling needy.

Leon took out his favourite mug, “Not really,” He shrugged, “And no.”

Leon ended it, sternly before setting his eyes on you, “You’re not a burden to me, Y/N. Never was and never will be.”

It’s like he had read your mind as he returned to the task at hand.

“You had a bad day with your uptight boss, and I’m guessing that coffee stain is by your clumsy co-worker.”

You looked down at your sweater as if you had just realized it was there before letting out a breathy chuckle.

“Ah, no... It was me this time.” You admitted, softly and he let out a sound of amusement, stirring the hot drink of Heaven as he turned around to look at you.

“Seems like he’s rubbing off on you.”

“Oh, shut up...” You rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless.

His chest rumbled a bit with his chuckle as you jumped down to the ground. Wrapping your arms around his slim waist, you gazed up at him with such adoration in your eyes.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love you?” You sighed dreamily and he stared into the distance, pretending to think deeply about your question.

“Huh, I don’t know, care to remind me?” Leon looked down at you, slightly bumping his nose against yours.

The corners of his eyes crinkled with his grin when you got flustered. Pressing a peck on your lips, Leon gestured to the corridor.

“Go change. I feel like your boss did something incredibly stupid today.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “Oh, you don’t even know...”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil infinite darkness #leon kennedy #dbd fanfic #resident evil fandom #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy imagines #resident evil memes #dbd memes #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy smut

304 notes · View notes

ottoslab · 1 year

Note

(Shakes you) otto you've GOTTA tell me more about the freelance mystery solvers I GOTTA KNOW ABOUT EM WHAT ARE THEY DOIN !!! I love your designs sm btw your SO REAL FOR THIS AHH

HEEHEE ohhh ok cracks my knuckles. Im gonna be writing this right before passing Out for the night so apologies in advance if this isn’t very comprehensible but i will GLADLY explain the funny freelance mystery solvers o7

EDIT HI This got so long im putting it under a readmore KGJFNGKJSGK.

Also! I didn’t draw anything to go with this ask because i told myself id give my hand a break, but I do actually have some recent doodles of Vern and Kitty i was doing in between the lineup so I’ll put them here for a little display ^_^ theyre not in context of anything im about to mention, just some dynamic exploration stuff that are their own whole other rambles

Ok! Readmore time! Paragraphs of nonsense! For your viewing pleasure!

So!! Vernon and Kitty are both employed by True Psychic Tales independently of each other when theyre older. Vernon is an illustrator/interviewer for the graphic novel division and Kitty works in special effects makeup for the more-recent live action film division! They don’t end up crossing paths for a while until being assigned to work together to research stuff for an up-and-coming TPT film project or smth. They become work buddies after reconnecting (though they choose to mostly ignore the fact that they knew each other as kids due to How They Were back then. They’re both very embarrassed about it for numerous reasons)

It becomes commonplace for them to help each other out with projects, and eventually through their research (fact-checking and digging through old psychonauts mission archives) they start to come across old psychonauts files of unfinished or ‘suspicious’ looking missions, ones that normally didnt get the green light to be told in graphic novel form due to the fact that they were inconclusive and, as a result, don’t make for good stories.

Kitty and Vernon end up sort of… picking up on these old missions in their spare time. It’s not psychonauts work but its also not not psychonauts work, you know? They team up to try and work out what lead to dead ends in missions and cross-referencing possibly related stories with other stories, and go out into the field to try and get answers. I picture it a lot in my brain as an episodic mystery series vis a vis scooby doo. They pick their archived mission log of the week to check out, go out, get some answers, and get a conclusion to bring back to TPT and a new graphic novel is made of the story they were able to uncover! With some more overarching plots where they get a little in over their heads here and there.

Franke’s got a bit less of a fleshed out role in all of this atm, mostly because i havent thought of him as much as the other two? My current vague-idea i have is that she and kitty had a falling out during their teen years, and Franke calls Kitty and Vernon falsely claiming to have a lead on a mystery theyve been working on, in order to try and reconnect with Kitty after she stopped talking to him. He has to come clean when whatever she leads them to actually ends up being a real psychic issue, and she has to explain that she doesn’t know what’s going on because she hadn’t actually called in about anything legit.

Franke does end up being a good help despite technically being the reason they got into deep shit in the first place, and Vernon’s probably the one who asks her to stick around (Kitty isn’t against it, but definitely isn’t really all too welcoming about it either.) They definitely have a whole thing where they all get closer and Kitty and Franke get to mend fences (a character arc along the lines of franke realizing he was kind of a hardass who wanted to make up without actually accepting any faults, and some other super impressive character arcs along the way im sure.) And all three of them continue to go on mystery deep-dives and uncover unfinished psychonauts missions!! Wahoo yahoo!!

Mystery incorporated asses! They’re fun, i enjoy them a lot! Hopefully this is some good tidbits of detail for u thank u for asking about them :]

#psychonauts #agent aquato and co au #art :0]#asks :0]

142 notes · View notes

triangle-strategy-notes · 11 months

Text

Cordelia Concept Art

Cordelia concept/reference art. Translation notes and image id below the cut.

Translation Notes

The word for "sash" on this page was literally "obi," the type of sash a woman would tie around a kimono. "Obi" is a valid English word, so I went back and forth between what to use, but since her dress isn't technically a kimono + the sash isn't tied in the style an obi usually would be, I decided to go with the more catch-all term.

"White as snow" was a word that literally just meant "white," but the first character and the word in general had some connotations with innocence/purity, so I added "as snow" to try and give that same connotation.

"Simple" as it refers to the fastener might have also meant "casual."

"Once upon a time" wasn't exactly the Japanese phrase for "Once upon a time," but it was fairly close. A more literal translation would be, "In the olden days, it just so happened that..."

"Girl of innocence" appears to literally be the word "witch". However, if you take the first character as a separate prefix to the second, it would mean something along the lines of "pure/genuine/true girl." I'm not really sure if that's how it works, but it seemed to make more sense than "witch," so that's what I ended up going with.

Image IDs

[id: Five images. The first two are the full pages of Cordelia's concept art in Japanese, the other three are translated versions of the text. On the first page, there is a colored and uncolored version of Cordelia's portrait. Underneath, there is an illustrator's note that reads, "Cordelia's overall tone is pale, so I thought it ended up being pretty difficult to choose a shading color. And actually, her initial facial features were much younger, but Mr. Ikushima redesigned her several times to give her the elegant look she has today. (Rina Yoshiura)". The second page is titled, "Morality's Sister (Healing Hands to Protect) Rough Draft". It has a small illustration/comic of a childhood Cordelia and Roland. It has the notes "Country A," "13 year old," and "girl of innocence." It then has a note that says, "I have to protect," with a large bracket beside it that contains the list, "small, dainty, gentle". There is also the word "pure" nearby. Underneath that is the illustration, titled, "Sister and Morality" with the subtitle "about 8 years ago". In the illustration Roland seems to be throwing a caterpillar-like bug aside. It's labeled, "Weird Bug Arm Bar Throw." Roland has some dialogue that reads, "I've for real gotta catch it!" Cordelia has some dialogue that reads, "huh?" Underneath them both, there's a note that reads, "Once upon a time, a warm fuzzy feeling made him think, 'I have to protect her!'" To the side there are several portraits of Cordelia, some full-body (one of which has a note about her braid being brought in front of her shoulder), and two that are labeled as "Bust portraits". One of the portraits shows Cordelia in a simple cloak with the fastener being labeled, "simple metal fastener." There's a top-down diagram of the metal she wears at her dress's neckline, labeled, "Decoration rough draft." On the second half of the page there is a portion labeled, "Working out the sister's hair ornament….." One version has a large flower on it. Next to it is a small portrait of Groma. A note reads, "Big flower, three strand braid. Doesn't she look like Grandma?" Another section is labeled, "Morality Facial Features and Morality's Sister WIP". There are several drawings of Cordelia's face, along with a full body rendition of an alternate design. She still wears the same sash as she does in canon, and nearby is the note, "For women. If they are wearing a dress, the sash should be wrapped like this." At the bottom of the page, there is another illustrator's note that reads, "She had this more child-like sort of look to her character during the drafting phase. But she ended up taking on a more serious role than I had originally expected, and the design was tweaked to fit. I recall she was a difficult character for us. (Yasuaki Arai)" /end id.]

#triangle strategy #triangle strategy artbook #ts artbook character ref sheets #cordelia glenbrook #roland glenbrook #that weird bug comic was one of the first things I translated! kinda fun coming back to it again #and this page was just fun in general #cordelia's such a cool character. I would play a whole game of just cordelia #sometimes I wonder how exactly she ended up being the character that she ended up being #bc it seemed like she was originally supposed to be younger + just serve as roland's main personal motivation for taking back whiteholm #but then someone must have looked at her and said okay but consider! we could have her try and stage a coup #and I want to give that writer a high five you know??????

36 notes · View notes

ladymordecai · 10 months

Text

I have been reading DC comics fic again for the first time in like . . . a decade-ish? because I'm a masochist, apparently. Finding new stuff and reading old favorites and being reminded of canon and all my thinky thoughts about superheroes and specifically Tim Drake, because he's my Robin and I imprinted (much like he did).

canon has put that boy through the wringer in the last decade, including smushing like, all his tragedies from 15 years of comics into like, ten seconds of comics time. I was reminded of the storyline where his dad found out he was robin and threatened batman into making him give it up, which at the time pissed me off because it was both a clear illustration of what a terrible parent jack drake was (in a way the narrative itself didn't seem to get??), and also because everything about it was so obviously For The Plot.

There was like, nothing in that storyline that I remember that actually came from the characters. It read like the writer or editors or whatever TPTB* decided they wanted to write a story about robin's dad finding out about robin and making him stop**. it's an obvious story for the only robin at the time who wasn't an orphan, and one of few kid heroes whose parents didn't know about them, and also it was Batman and Robin! The Drama! it so clearly had nothing to do with TIM when he should've been the main character, and it made me so angry, and then that anger was compounded because TPTB used it as an excuse to screw over Steph and then make the only non-orphan robin into an orphan, i guess just because. I hated it then, I hate it now.

BUT

I have a lot more perspective now, and have read a lot more (both published work and fanfic), and I have had a thought that I cannot believe I didn't have back then and that I've never heard before anywhere. (which doesn't mean somebody else hasn't had it, i just haven't found it)

One of my core objections about the storyline is that Tim's dad didn't figure out his ID, he just found the Robin uniform in Tim's room. Which is so out of character that it should invalidate the entire storyline.

This is the kid who wore another mask under his mask to prevent his other superhero friends from SEEING HIS FACE--not knowing his ID, just seeing his face. The kid who kept his identity from goddamn ORACLE for a while there. The kid who was able to sneak out and photo-stalk BATMAN AND ROBIN for literal years as a preteen and never get caught. Nobody ever knew anything about Robin III unless Tim made a deliberate decision to reveal the information. This had been a cornerstone of his character for 20+ years. Robin III's secret identity was arguably second only to Oracle's in-universe.

Yet that entire story rested on the idea that Jack Drake, inattentive parent maybe-kinda-misguidedly-authoritarianly trying to connect with his son for the first time ever, snoops in Tim's room and finds proof that Tim is Robin?? AND that Bruce Wayne is Batman?!?? Tim, whose best friends still call him "Rob," left proof of his identity and Batman's somewhere his civilian father could find it??!??!

There is NO WAY THAT MAKES SENSE. There is no version of canon in which that makes sense.

Things that would make sense: Is that old poster of the Flying Graysons how you met the Waynes? or Hey So I Noticed You Have Three Half-Empty First Aid Kits, Talk To Me? or Dad! Did you read my freaking diary and find whatever normal-teenager angst I wrote as a cover and possibly also some real civvie-ID angst mixed in?! Not cool!

Somebody set that up.

That was a freaking supervillain plot.

There's like. No other explanation for what Tim's dad found. Either a supervillain figured out Tim's ID and took him off the playing board in the way most likely to disrupt as many other superheroes as possible, or a supervillain who didn't know Robin's ID mind-controlled him into revealing it for nefarious reasons.

So uh. I really don't want to get into writing DC fic, because I have shit to do that is not that, but SOMEBODY NEEDS TO TELL THAT STORY. Like, either all the characters involved don't contract plot stupidity and thus realize there's something hinky going on, or at some point after that in canon new evidence comes to light or an existing rogue says something suspicious or . . . there's just so many possibilities.

AND THEY'RE ALL MORE INTERESTING AND MORE IN-CHARACTER THAN CANON, DC!!!

(the creators involved in that storyline should feel very very lucky i don't remember who they are and am too lazy to look them up. because i would bring up how bad they are at storytelling every chance i got, forever)

--translations for fandom young'uns and some snark:

*TPTB: the powers that be, shorthand for the vast array of people in charge of multi-creator stories run by companies, such as tv shows, movies, and comics

**Buffy did it better

#tim drake #dc comics #meta #dc comics meta #fic bunny

18 notes · View notes

whatsitcalledfromthingy · 3 months

Text

reading tag game!! thanks for the tag red <3 @jonsaremembers

tagging (as always no pressure): @finn-is-in-the-binn @philsmeatylegss @daisyjay887 @homohabu @fromemotoangel @sinistergooseberries

last book i read: ashes in my mouth, sand in my shoes- per petterson, beautiful book about a kid who wets the bed going through shit. my favourite types of book are slice of life books (0 plot whatsoever, just a section of someone’s life) and my favourite characters are clearly autistic young boys who are struggling with life. so yeah i loved this.

book i recommend: carmilla- sheridan le fanu, lesbian vampire story written in the victorian era, need i say more.

book i couldn’t put down: vile bodies- evelyn waugh, this was a difficult one because the way i read books is either it takes me a month or a day so i often do not put a book down but i read this in the space of a few hours. i loved it. i read it because of the film bright young things (one of my favourites ever) and honestly it did not disappoint. it’s a slice of life again and also a classic again. these are going to be common themes i feel. also honorable mention bright young things- scarlet thomas, i read this immediately after vile bodies and it’s another slice of life but this time with a slight plot. it’s written so well i couldn’t put it down either. one of my favourites of all time.

book i’ve read twice: good omens- terry prattchet and neil gaiman, yeah i don’t think anyone’s surprised. my favourite book of all time. not only is it good omens and obviously i love the story but the writing style is perfect to me (i have read quite a lot of terry prattchet i love him so much)

book on my TBR: it’s mainly series on my tbr because i have a lot of time on my hands at the moment. i really want to read sherlock holmes so ill say that.

book i have put down: history is all you left me- adam silvera, i loved they both die at the end so many years later i thought id try another one and no. it was not good. maybe it was the same and i’ve just grown up a bit but i really couldn’t get very far though it at all.

book on my wish list: again i’ve been mainly looking at series so i really want to read discworld (my dad owns the whole series but it’s like really old and i may not be allowed to touch them so it might be searching the library for me)

a favourite book from childhood: hetty feather- jacqueline wilson, this book started my strange childhood obsession with orphans. most books i read for quite a while after this were about orphans, i wanted to be an orphan (don’t read too far into that) and jaqueline wilson was a fav in general plus she taught me how to spell my middle name.

book i would give a friend: stoner- john williams, surprise surprise it’s a slice of life book again. this one a friend gave to me after i was telling her about how i love books with no plot. and i would pass it on to any other friend honestly (obviously this is difficult because i don’t own a copy of the book but shhhh use your imagination) stoner is boring but in a purposeful way and it is such a calming read and i think a lot of my friends need that.

book of poetry or lyrics i own: i’m not sure i really do own one but i was in one when i was 5 . i filled in the blanks to some poem about what i wanted to be when i grew up and it got printed in an anthology.

nonfiction book i own: on liberty (and other essays)- john stuart mill, i’m a philosophy girly what can i say.

currently reading: i’m not. that’s not how i work. when i pick up a book, i finish said book and then go back to being in a liminal space of not reading anything

planning on reading next: the cockroach- ian mcewan, one of the three books i got from the library months ago that is sitting on my shelf (i’ve renewed them dw) this one is about a man who turns into a cockroach

this was fun :)

#reading tag

5 notes · View notes

cup1dt3a · 2 years

Note

How does the 1st year ob look like? I mean, what outfit/accessories are they wearing?

So basically I am actually working on some concepts for this but here are a few I have came up with. Hope you like them! I didn’t do a full design due to a time limit and art block please forgive me.

Adeuce duo they basically have the markings of their respective card suits on their head. Their markings downward are kind of like helmets too. But they both still have the heart/spade on the corners of their eyes.

With Aces overal design I had wanted it to be like a jerster and soldier like outfit. Because I had loved the traitor Ace theorys and some particular designs of his ob form had stood out to me a lot. But I had taken a lot of inspiration from the card soldiers from Alice in wonderland a lot.

With Deuce I wanted his more delinquent side to show throughout his appearance. Because his delinquent years were a big part in his life. A part that he tries to repress so I just thought what if he hadn’t changed? What if he was just very impulsive and didn’t hold back his tounge on snarky comments like Ace. So I have just been looking for the most grunge and delinquent styles I could find for him. His messy hair was kept since he probably doesn’t care that much for appearances. I had given him chains as his neck mark and to surround him. Because of his gangster persona and as a symbol of the weight of guilt he carries from seeing how upset his poor mother was. Not even bothering to change his ways because he was too deep into it and went “ FUCK GRANDMA!”

Epel like deuce would be a menace. For he must have a lot of built up gender dysphoria and hatred from always being called a girl. Even after constantly stating it to others only for them to still call him girly. So I wanted to give him a very delinquent-y look along with a long cloak since he is obviously inspired by the old lady queen? I forgot the name but anyways I wanted you to convey that through giving him a more intimating and messy look to convey how manly he is. Along with the fact he doesn’t care for his appearance either and is just a messy and chaotic farm boy. His blot markings are very similar to Vil’s but extremely messy and he has splashed markings everywhere on him.

Jack I am not too sure for his reasons of overblotting. Because sure you could have a good supportive family and childhood but still have issues. So I’d say that he maybe overused his powers to a point he had overblotted. But he is an obvious leader of the group due to him always keeping them in check. So I’d see his overblot form showing his animalistic side a lot more. Id keep his little shark tooth? Or fang necklace. But adding more fur onto him for a more animalistic look. Along with his very complex hair being more disheveled to add to his blot form looking very over worked. I’ve added the three scratches on his nose because of Leona.

Sebek… it’s just very obvious that he was bullied as a child for being half human. Due to Briar Valleys rarity of humans being there so he probably would have occasionally been bullied or felt different from the rest of the kids there. This would result in his self hatred. So his adoration for malleus besides his strength and other admirable characteristics would probably also be because he’s living perfection in his eyes. So his human racism would be at its max! But his loyalty to Malleus would still shine throughout his design because of how devoted he is to him. So most of his outfit would contain little accessories similar to malleus but expressed in Sebeks own unique way. Along with his reptilian looks shining through so he would most definitely have many inky and real scales around his face and body. Kinda like freckles for example.

I haven’t gotten his yet due to running out of time but still hopefully you all enjoyed this and are having a good day/ have your day get better! Sincerely Cup1d T3a💕

@simping-on-the-daily Got you some food!

#Overblot #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #ace trappola #deuce spade #epel felmier #jack howl #sebek zigvolt #First years #Overblot series

81 notes · View notes

alwaysonthemend · 1 year

Text

taking a break from the horniness for a sec to just say that jake kiszka has made me so much more confident in my body.

(adding a cut bc im talking about negative body image and shit)

let me start by saying that im 5ft 2in tall and have spent my whole life being picked on for being so small. im not skinny. ive got thick thighs and a small chest and i haven't had a flat stomach in years. and for a very long time, i hated everything about my body. i used to never even look in the mirror because i hated what i saw. id always wear shirts that covered me completely and id never wear anything tight fitting. i always made sure to get pants that looked okay when i sat down. and no matter how much i tried to convince myself that i was just being harsh on my own appearance, it never worked. i couldn't ever imagine someone finding my body attractive.

but seeing jake being so openly himself - wearing whatever he wants and being so confident... it inspires me to be confident too. he's one of the sexiest people ive ever seen and seeing so many other people find him attractive too has made me feel sexy in my own body for the first time in years.

i found greta van fleet three years ago, and in the time that's passed since then ive started wearing crop tops again. i wear low rise pants. i wear form fitting clothes. and i feel sexy when i do. and i genuinely don't think id have ever gotten to this point if it weren't for jake.

anytime i find myself slipping into the old negative thoughts about my body, i think about all the people on here appreciating jake's body and it reminds me that there really are people who find our body type attractive. and i see videos of him up there on stage rocking it out and not giving a shit and it reminds me to stop giving a shit too.

i hope he knows how much hes helped people feel good about themselves again.

#might delete this later #but i just wanted to get my thoughts out #i love jake kiszka with my whole heart #jake kiszka

30 notes · View notes

vivalas-vega · 2 years

Text

Real Friends / Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader / Part Seven

happy valentines day my loves - this seemed to be the perfect chapter to mark the occasion ;) i hope you all had the most lovely day, here is some pure sap and a much needed break in tension between our two favorite friends. I have always wanted to reference a very specific grey’s anatomy scene in my writing and I thought this was the perfect pairing to break it out for - you can watch that here and that is all I’ll say in order to not spoil what’s to come - it is up to you if you watch it before or after you read it ;)

real friends / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part seven

one - two - three - four - five - six

word count: 4.5k

warnings: sap. lots of sap.

“Cobra,” Penny started but was cut off by a round of rowdy frat boys to which she gave you an annoyed look. “Cobra, you know I would never ask…” she said, and you just nodded before she even had the chance. She’d lost one of her weekend bartenders and she was definitely feeling it right now as the Hard Deck thrummed with energy and you had no problem slipping behind the bar and taking the spare apron from Penny.

“And you don’t have to, who knows, could be fun to get back into the swing of things,” you smiled as you took an order and got to work. You’d never liked living on base and avoided it at all costs, which resulted in you picking up some bartending shifts in your early twenties to help cover the costs of living on your own on just the Navy’s salary and in all honesty you’d loved it. The energy was usually always good, tips were fantastic, especially on the nights when you dressed to make the old-timers wallets hurt, and it was a great way to distract yourself from the stress of your day job. It was like riding a bike for you, easy to slip back into your old routine of managing patrons and keeping up with the conversation as well as making sure their drinks were well taken care of and you smiled brightly at Rooster as he approached.

“Have I stepped into an alternate universe?” he asked as you set a beer in front of him.

“Pen was swamped and I happen to know my way around a bar,” you said, mixing up an old fashioned for the guy waiting beside him… based on his young appearance and choice of drink you’d inspected his ID three times to make sure it wasn’t fake.

“Full of surprises aren’t you?” he teased and you just winked in response, flitting around to clear empty glasses.

“Get away from my bar, Roo, you’re in the way,” you said as you made your way from table to table, pushing him in the direction of the pool table and watching as he joined your group of friends. You helped Penny through the rush, and even got to ring the bell once which was secretly something you’d always wanted to do, and you wiped your hands in satisfaction as you looked over the bar, now only occupied by regulars who weren’t quite as demanding.

“Cobra, you’re a literal lifesaver,” Penny said, giving your shoulders a squeeze from behind as she slid a rather fat stack of tips your way and you just shook your head.

“Pen, I didn’t say yes for some extra cash, I was happy to help.”

“Come on, most of these are from all the boys on base that are utterly obsessed with you anyways, just take them as a token of my gratitude otherwise I’m never making your margaritas spicy again,” she warned and you placed a hand on your chest in faux shock.

“You would never.”

“Try me,” she smiled, pushing them closer to you and you gave her a soft smile before tucking them away in the pocket of your shorts as she waved you off to join your friends with a fresh drink in hand.

“Have to say, Cobra, you are a much better bartender than I would have thought,” Rooster said when you approached the pool table.

“I take offense in that, I’ll have you know I bartended for years.” you retorted, “but nevermind that, I uh… I actually have some news, guys.” you said hesitantly, waiting until you had everyone’s attention, trying not to linger on the fact that you’d had Hangman’s all night.

“What, is this where you tell us you're ditching us to spend your days here instead?” Rooster joked and you just shoved his shoulder.

“No, it’s a little bigger than that… I got a call from Admiral Simpson today, I’m being promoted to Lieutenant Commander,” you said and the entire group broke out in cheers.

“Holy shit, Cobra, this is amazing!” Phoenix cooed as she pulled you in for a tight hug, “I am so proud of you,” she whispered in your ear.

“Alright, alright, break it up, let me get in there,” Rooster said, pulling you from her arms and into his own. You were essentially passed around the entire group, being hugged so tight you almost thought your ribs could be bruised until you made it to Hangman who really wasn’t sure what to do or say. You still hadn’t spoken, but he didn’t want to let this moment pass either of you by.

“Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander,” he said, giving you a salute and you laughed, shaking your head at him. You tentatively reached out for him and he immediately wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the ground before twirling you in a circle as you let out a giggle, “I always knew you’d be the first to break Lieutenant,” he said setting you down but keeping his hands on your waist and you had no intention of removing your arms from his shoulders. “You deserve it, Cobra, this and so much more.” You just beamed up at him, his words of praise washing over you and filling your chest with warmth and you pulled away from him when Coyote cleared his throat behind you.

“So, when’s the big celebration?” he asked as you turned to face him and adjusted your dress awkwardly.

“Rather soon actually… they thought we would want to do it before we return from break, turns out they know a thing or two about what we get up to in our free time,” you laughed, “it’s this Friday.”

“Well, then you and I have to go shopping for dresses. Of course we’ll wear our stuffy dress uniforms for the actual banquet but… afterwards we’re going out for a proper night on the town to celebrate our girl, what do you say?” Phoenix asked, addressing the rest of the group and everyone nodded.

“Oh, oh no…” Bob said and you all looked at him in confusion, “this is going to be a repeat of the night after the uranium mission isn’t it?” he asked and you let out a loud laugh before reaching over to ruffle his hair. Poor sweet Bob had been the only sober one present to keep everyone alive and well after you’d all returned home, desperate to let loose and blow off steam once the mission was over.

“Oh, Bob… have I told you today how much I love you? These new glasses really suit your face,” you said, fully redirecting the conversation which was confirmation in and of itself that yes… it was going to be a repeat.

—--

You stood at attention as Admiral Simpson read out your new rank and you saluted, smiling softly as Maverick came to affix your new pin to your uniform, as was tradition for a loved one to do the honors. You’d thought about calling your family, but with the short notice you knew they’d be unable to attend and Maverick was the next best thing, he’d been absolutely delighted when you’d asked. The night had passed with a blur, you making introductions with several important people you’d not yet had the chance to meet as Cyclone essentially dragged you from person to person. You kept chuckling as you’d spare glances towards your team, keeping up an air of professionalism but if you looked just a little closer you could tell they were getting up to nothing but trouble as they sipped the champagne that seemed to be flowing freely and laughed amongst themselves. You couldn’t help the laughter that escaped you as they all scrambled to salute you when you finally approached their table, almost yelling Lieutenant Commander completely out of sync.

“God, I love you guys,” you said through your laughs, “things are finally wrapping up, still the plan to meet at the Hard Deck at nine?” you asked and everyone nodded as they got ready to leave.

“Mind if I drive you?” Hangman asked, and you nodded at him despite everything in you telling you no. You made your way out to the parking lot where he opened the door for you and helped you climb in, chuckling to himself as you grunted.

“No reason to have a truck like this in San Diego,” you muttered, buckling your seatbelt as he got in, “purely aesthetic, Jacob Seresin, people back home would laugh at you.”

“They would not,” he scoffed, pulling out of the lot and beginning the short drive to your home.

“They surely would. They’d call you a poser, say you’ve forgotten your roots with this fancy thing in the city.”

“If anything this truck is me remembering my roots,” he countered and you shook your head.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but all the real cowboys back home don’t drive frilly rigs like this.”

“You know what, I’ll let you have it, seeing as it's your day and all,” he said, smirking at you before returning his eyes to the road.

“As you should,” you said simply, turning your attention out your window as a silence settled over the cab.

“I really am proud of you, you know,” he finally said, “you’ve been busting your ass. Not just on the mission, but by naturally stepping into a leadership role at Top Gun, going out of your way to help everyone… it’s really impressive and I just thought you should know that.”

“Thank you, Jake,” you said, cheeks flushing under his praise as you pulled into your driveway. “You coming in or will I see you in a few hours?”

“I’ve got my change of clothes with me but… I- I don’t want to impose,” he said and you smiled softly at his suddenly sheepish demeanor.

“I did ask, Hangman,” you said, getting out of the truck and making your way to unlock your front door and he was quick to follow. You made your way through the foyer, checking the clock on your wall and seeing you had plenty of time to spare as you kicked your boots off. “I don’t know about you but I am dying to get out of this uniform, bathrooms right there if you want to change,” you said as you made your way down the hallway and into your bedroom where you changed into a tee shirt and flowy shorts to get ready. When you reemerged you had to fight to keep your jaw off the floor, blinking slowly as you took him in, wearing a neutral patterned short sleeve button up with well-fitting blue slacks and he smirked as he noticed.

“Well, you certainly clean up nice,” you said, fetching the pair of you beers before motioning him to follow you to your bedroom where you took a seat at your vanity.

“I should say the same, San Diego won’t know what hit them when you hit the town in those… What are those, daisy shorts?”

“Oh hush, this obviously isn’t what I’m wearing,” you said as you gestured for him to take a seat on your bed and you made eye contact in the mirror as you plugged your curling iron in, “on a scale of one-post uranium mission how rowdy do you think it’s going to get tonight?”

“Considering Phe was already a little tipsy when we left, I’m gonna say it might be a little worse,” he chuckled, taking a sip of his beer.

“Poor Bob,” you mused, sectioning your hair and beginning to curl as he watched with amusement.

“I think he actually enjoys it,” he shrugged. “Look, I’ve been wanting to talk to you… I understand why you’ve been avoiding me, I was entirely out of line with what happened and I just wanted to apologize.”

“You weren’t out of line, Jake,” you said, dropping a section of hair before starting on the next. “You surely took me by surprise, but you weren’t out of line.”

“If it wasn’t out of line you wouldn’t have dropped off the face of the earth for three days… it’s really okay, you have no obligation to spare my feelings, I just want us to go back to how things were… I’ve really missed you.”

You sighed, setting the iron down and turning to face him, “I did kiss you back. Twice.”

“It’s a little detail I’m willing to overlook,” he said, looking at you with pleading eyes and you felt your body thrum under his gaze, drawing you in and clouding your judgment. Ever since Rooster had shown up at your door, you’d been thinking and overthinking, carefully considering his words and the chord they’d struck within you.

“I’m not,” you said, turning back around and starting back in on your hair as silence fell over the room. You’d gotten almost all of the way through when he finally spoke again.

“What does that mean?” he asked, running a hand through his hair as his knee bounced nervously. You finished the last strand of your hair, unplugging the iron as you took a swig of your beer and clipped the front sections away from your face.

“It means I don’t want to overlook it.” you said, taking a makeup wipe to your face and removing any trace before you could start fresh.

“Okay, but like… what does that mean?” he asked again, confusion clear as day across his face as he tried to understand what you were implying. You made eye contact in the mirror as you blended foundation into your skin.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since you kissed me. Ever since that day you came over and we agreed to be friends I’ve been fighting this… attraction towards you with every fiber of my being because you scare the shit out of me. I’m okay right now, I have great friends, my career is progressing exactly as I would like it to,” you moved on to swirl blush onto your cheeks, speaking so nonchalantly it was as if you were giving him the weather report. “Giving into this, giving in to you, threatens all of that. I’ve never been good at relationships and your track record speaks for itself but I know enough to know that this? This is just dangerous,” you dusted your cheeks with highlighter before taking another drink as he just stared at you blankly. “Letting you in means potentially compromising the friend group, compromising everything I’ve worked so hard for, hell it compromises my own sanity because honestly I think when this burns in it’s going to devastate me,” you said, moving onto your eyes, still speaking so calmly. “These are all things I know to be true and yet I just don’t have any fight left in me anymore.” He finally moved, setting his beer bottle next to yours and placing his hands on the back of your chair, watching you in the mirror as you continued on with your makeup, your focus sharp as you drew wings onto your liner.

“Sweetheart, are we going to get to the part where you tell me what this means?” You remained silent for a moment, sweeping mascara across your lashes before discarding the tube on the messy table top and taking another drink of your beer as you met his eyes.

“It means that if that kiss was foreboding something that is just physical for you, you need to tell me so I can… so I can process it and move on, because I-” for the first time emotion seeped into your voice as you stumbled over your words, and he gently grabbed your arm to pull you up and into him as he stared down into your eyes.

“Honey, I am just as terrified as you are, but you and me… we don’t run from the scary stuff, we dive in headfirst and I don’t want to do anything but that with you. This has never been just physical for me,” he whispered as he cradled your jaw between his hands.

“You are… god, I just, I can’t stand you sometimes because you’re… it’s like you’re in me, even when we weren’t friends and all we did was fight it was like you were apart of me, like I was infected by Jacob Seresin,” you chuckled dryly as tears welled in your eyes and you lost your grip on all the reasons why not you’d been clinging so tightly to as his hands slipped down to grip your waist, “I- I… I love you and I, fuck I didn’t… that just flew right out but I love you,” a tear slipped down your cheek as you unraveled before his eyes and as much as you wanted to force yourself to shut up, to claim some kind of psychotic break and lock yourself in the bathroom you couldn’t stop now that you’d started. “I-I do, I love you and I have been trying so hard to just mash it down and ignore it and not say it because this is just… this is a bad idea and I know it but I just can’t think about anything or anyone and I can’t sleep, I can’t- I can’t breathe because I am just so in love with you and I-” you were cut off by his lips on your own and you melted into him, tangling your hands in his hair as you pulled him closer only for him to pull back and leave you breathless.

“You’re in love with me,” he said, wiping a falling tear and looking down at you almost as if he didn’t believe it and you chuckled, cheeks flushing at the uncharacteristic emotional outburst.

“Be cool about it,” you sighed and he brushed your hair away from your face before placing another quick kiss to your lips. His hands enveloped your jaw, fingers splaying across your neck as he tipped your head back and drank you in.

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispered, kissing you again and you couldn’t help but smile against his lips. He pulled back, reaching to grab your makeup sponge and dab at your cheeks and you gasped, plucking it from his hands and swatting him away.

“What are you doing, you’re going to make it worse,” you said, “very sweet but I’ll fix it myself.” He chuckled, sitting down in your chair and pulling you into his lap as you fixed the tear streaks and ran your fingers through your curls.

“So beautiful,” he mumbled, placing kisses to your shoulder and you smiled softly, standing and pulling him up with you.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, kissing him again and retreating to your closet where you picked out a set of strapless lingerie you’d bought a few weeks ago and slipped your dress on, walking back out and turning away from him, “zip me up?” you asked and you felt his fingers trail up your arm.

“Is that a bit of red lace I see?” he asked, slowly tugging the zipper up, “you’re killing me, honey,” he whispered into your ear before roughly turning you around and pulling you into him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said innocently, giggling as he rolled his eyes at you.

“Sure you don’t,” you escaped his grasp, grabbing your shoes and sitting on the edge of the bed to strap them on and he crouched before you, taking them and sliding them on, carefully fastening them into place as you watched in adoration. His hand trailed up your calf before pulling you up and twirling you around, “you are a sight for sore eyes, honey.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you said, smiling up at him as his fingers brushed just under the hem of your dress.

“Where have you been hiding this thing?”

“You have Phoenix to thank for this,” you laughed and he promised you he would. You briefly thought you should have been freaking out. You should have been overwhelmed by what had come tumbling out of your mouth but you weren’t, you felt lighter than you had in weeks and you felt nothing but excitement at the idea of embarking on a night of celebration with him at your side.

You walked into the Hard Deck hand in hand with Jake, having just got into an argument about kissing you and disrupting your perfectly applied lipstick as everyone’s heads turned to face you. “Look at the lot of you,” Penny said shaking her head, “is the Navy only accepting movie stars these days?” She set a drink before you as you laughed, “this one’s on me, congratulations, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Thank you, Pen,” you blushed as you approached the rather dapper looking Dagger Squad. “I see everyone understood the assignment tonight,” you teased.

“Yes, and everyone finish their one drink, we are not wasting this on the place we wind up every night.” Phoenix ordered as Penny approached with her phone out.

“I’m going to try not to take offense to that. At the risk of sounding like a mom on prom night, everyone squish together, I want a photo of you on this most momentous occasion,” she said, gesturing you all to pose and Jake swiftly pulled you into him, his hand settling on your waist as you leaned against him and smiled for the photo before you all broke apart.

“I’m serious, you might be the woman of the hour but chug. There’s this super cute bar downtown and I want to go before it gets too crowded,” Phoenix said, gesturing to your margarita and you just looked up at Jake.

“And so it begins,” you said, tipping your head back and polishing off the drink, “oh fuck, that was spicy,” you wheezed and everyone laughed as you were whisked away to a rather swanky little bar that seemed a little too posh for what you were sure this night would entail. One shot turned into two, then three and suddenly you were on top of a table with Phoenix as you both drunkenly sang along to Beyonce, flipping off the camera Rooster had pointed in your direction. Your heel precariously slipped off the edge of the table, causing you to lose your balance entirely and before you could even process what was happening you found yourself in Jake’s arms as he just looked down at you amused.

“You doing alright, princess?” he asked and you beamed up at him.

“Wonderful. This is the perfect night,” you grinned and he leaned down to place a kiss on your lips, lipstick be damned, only pulling apart at the chaos it caused.

“Hold on.” Phoenix muttered.

“Oh, I fucking knew it,” Fanboy laughed.

“Are you guys blind? They walked in holding hands,” Rooster pointed out but it only added fuel to the fire.

“To be fair, I was distracted by her legs,” Phoenix said and you hid your face in Jake’s chest as he placed you back on solid ground. The group devolved into questions and Phoenix just gave you a look, grabbing your hand and pulling you to the bathroom to leave Jake to fend for himself.

“When did that happen?” she asked and you sighed as you leaned against the sink.

“After the banquet… he drove me home and we got ready together and I don’t know what came over me. I was telling him all the reasons why I didn’t want to and before I knew it I was telling him I was in love with him.”

“A big night for you, indeed,” she said, fixing your hair. “I really am so happy for you. This is good, and I’m not even going to tell you I told you so.”

“I think you just did,” you giggled before the two of you stumbled out of the bathroom with your arms linked.

“Come on you booze hounds, we’re switching locations,” Rooster said, slinging an arm over Phoenix’s shoulder as Jake navigated you out into the cool night air. The next bar was much more your speed, filled with people just as drunk as you all were and decorated modestly. It was the group's natural instinct to migrate to the pool table, overtaking it and claiming it as your own as you and Jake went head to head.

“Don’t think I’m going easy on you just because I got mushy earlier,” you said as you racked the balls and he just shook his head and laughed.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.” The game went as it always did, with the two of you hurling insults left and right but with the addition of subtle teasing on your part to throw him off his game. Just as he was lining up the winning shot you rested your hands on the pool table just in front of the eight ball, leaning forward and giving him what he considered to be the best view in the house. His eyes raked over you and even from your spot across the pool table you could see them darken but it only served as motivation instead of a deterrent, “as much as I love you, I’m not throwing the game that easily.” he said as he sank the ball and you groaned.

“I am not going to get used to hearing that,” Coyote said as you perched yourself on the edge of the pool table and pouted as he came to stand between your legs.

“Come on sweetheart, no one likes a sore loser.” he teased and you rolled your eyes, pushing him away.

“I am not a sore loser,” you protested.

“You are when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not that either,” you said, narrowing your eyes and he just laughed at you as he brushed your hair behind your ear.

“Oh princess, you are absolutely hammered.” He kissed the tip of your nose and you just smiled dopily at him.

“Okay, maybe I am…” you giggled as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into him. You breathed in his cologne as you clung to him and sighed in content as he placed a kiss to the top of your head before you pulled away to look up at him. “Everything is perfect, so very perfect.” you said, turning your gaze to look over your friends, smiling as you saw Rooster and Phoenix over at the dart board, Coyote and Fanboy talking to a pair of girls at the bar, and Bob sitting in a booth keeping a watchful eye over everyone.

“It really is, isn’t it?” he said, never moving his gaze from you as you lovingly looked at all of your friends.

“You cheeseball,” you said when you turned back to him and he just chuckled.

“Your cheeseball.” he said, cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss, “I love you, darlin’.”

“I love you, too.”

previous part / next part

taglist: @potato-girl99981 @olliepig @roosters-girl @angelbabyange @loveforaugust @seriouslyseresin @sopheeg @shanimallina87 @laneyspaulding19 @djs8891 @zbeez-outlet @startrekfangirl2233

#Jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #hangman #Hangman x Y/N #hangman x you #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction

191 notes · View notes