Verse 1:
In the heart of the forest, where the trees reach for the sky,
Lies a spirit that haunts these woods, never letting them die.
Its whisper echoes through the leaves, a haunting melody,
Guiding lost travelers home, or setting them free.
Chorus:
The ghost of the forest, a legend come to life,
A guardian of the wild, with secrets to hide.
It watches over us all, with a knowing, ancient eye,
And leaves us feeling changed, in its mysterious, moonlit night.
Verse 2:
Some say they've seen its face, a pale, ethereal glow,
Others hear its voice, a soft, soothing flow.
But all agree that when it comes, it leaves a lasting mark,
A reminder of the power of the wild, and the magic of the dark.
Chorus:
The ghost of the forest, a legend come to life,
A guardian of the wild, with secrets to hide.
It watches over us all, with a knowing, ancient eye,
And leaves us feeling changed, in its mysterious, moonlit night.
Bridge:
Some fear its presence, and avoid the woods at night,
But others seek it out, drawn by its eerie light.
For those who face it bravely, it holds the key to truth,
And opens up a world of wonder, and a sense of deep, primal youth.
Chorus:
The ghost of the forest, a legend come to life,
A guardian of the wild, with secrets to hide.
It watches over us all, with a knowing, ancient eye,
And leaves us feeling changed, in its mysterious, moonlit night.
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*The story would be like *Unter the red hood* where Jason sees the reader when he fights Bruce and Dick… I don't know what to add srry
This song got me into the headspace whilst writing this along with Mr Loverman. 🦦also I’m adding the fact that reader knows Jason during his time as Robin cuz I can.
Jason had taken many things into account with his plan but the one thing he didn’t however was seeing you again, and god were you still as beautiful and or handsome as the least time he saw you, a little worn and tired and yet you were still you; Fierce, powerful, kind, sweet, loving, generous, you.
His Achilles heel, now and forever.
He still remembers the times where he would always go to you whenever he got himself injured from crime fighting with Bruce and was too stubborn to accept medical treatment. He always did prefer your approach to patching him up, scolding him for his sheer recklessness whilst still being tender with his wounds, telling him with sarcasm that you much prefer to have him alive rather then dead at your fire escape.
To which he laughed despite it hurting his fractured ribs. ‘You worry too much about me, buttercup. If I didn’t know any better I would start to think that you care for me more than a friend.’ He teased, nudging you in the side with his good arm. You scoffed but you neither denied nor confirmed that you did in fact care for him more than a friend because you genuinely thought at the time that you would have enough time to tell him.
You were wrong…Jason died not long after.
You grieved hard and for so long afterwards, always sitting on rooftops by yourself whenever you missed him more then most days, only to feel your heart break even harder and before you knew it you were crying, crying your heart out in pain, anger and loss at the very city that ruthlessly took him from you until your throat went hoarse or your eyes had no more tears to shed. You didn’t want to believe that Jason was gone, never to come back and greet you on the fire escape with that cheeky smile despite being conceded in cuts and bruises.
Even now you still look out towards the fire escape whenever you heard a peculiar noise coming from there, thinking that this was the one, this was the moment where everything went back to normal, that you would see Jason again and that everyone was lying to you. Only to be disappointed every single time.
So to be stood here now, across from the man known as RedHood, something about him strikes familiarity in you but yet felt forgein at the same time.
‘Buttercup?’ RedHood asked in disbelief and your eyes widened. Only Jason called you that nickname and when he did, it felt like home. So when RedHood said it, it made you feel the exact same way. ‘Jason?’ You whispered tentatively, almost as though you were expecting for that small glimmer of hope that you desperately held onto to be shattered into a million pieces. ‘You’re alive?’ You added.
‘Came just as a surprise to me too.’ He replied strongly, only for his voice to grow soft when he then said, ‘I’m sorry that we never got enough time…I just thought-‘
‘That we would have enough time?’ You interrupted, smiling at him bitter sweetly, already having had similar enough thoughts yourself. There wasn’t a single moment in your life after his death did you think about whether or not things would’ve played out differently had you told him, or how his death would hurt you even more then it already did had you told him that night.
Now that he was right in front of you, it felt as though far was giving you that chance to find out but you were frozen to the spot. You knew this man was Jason, he was practically telling you with his body that he was but he was too different from everything that had happened to him, he’s been through things that you could only being to imagine.
He was your Jason but he also wasn’t.
‘Yeah.’ Jason said defeatedly, wishing to go back to the night where you first met, two young and naive kids who had no clue of what the future held for them and how it would tear them apart in the worst ways, only to bring them back together in the most unlikely circumstance but this time on opposing sides.
Silence befell you both, allowing for everything to sink in but it didn’t prove in making anything that happened before your fated reunion any better, it didn’t take away the hurt and the grief you felt nor did it take away the pain and the anguish that Jason felt. Seeing each other again didn’t magically heal either of you, if anything it made you incredibly numb to anything and everything that could possibly come next.
‘Nightshade, any visual on the RedHood?’ Bruce asked through the intercom and just like that the peace was shattered and the reason why you were here in the first place was revitalised. ‘Negative Batman. I lost him after he blindsided me.’ You replied, eyes still locked onto to Jason as you headed Bruce’s next chain of command before switching off your intercom, consequences be damned, you’ll deal with what’s to come later; As for now all you wanted to do was ingrained this version of Jason to memory before you were destined to part ways once again.
‘You should go, I’ve given you a brief window to escape but it won’t be long before he figures out somethings amiss.’ You told the vigilante, just about getting ready to leave when he desperately grabbed at your arm. ‘That’s it? You’re just going to leave after finding out I’m alive? Do you even care?!’ Jason roared and it was enough for you to snap because how dare he think that you didn’t care about him when he was all you ever thought about after his untimely death. ‘I always fucking care about you Jason!’ You exclaimed. ‘No! I fucking loved you but you died! You fucking died. I told you that you’d get killed one day and but you didn’t listen! You never listen! Do you know how much i grieved for you, mourned for you!? I became a vigilante IN YOUR MEMORY! So go ahead and claim that I don’t care for you when all I ever done was care for you, you stupid boy because I was stupid enough to fall first!’
Jason froze. You loved him? Since when and why didn’t he know? Why did you tell him? But most importantly, why him? He’s broken, he wasn’t worth your time.
You smiled weakly at his silence and quietly slipped from his grasp and left to meet up with Bruce and Dick, knowing it was for the better. Silently hoping that you would get to see him again but you weren’t exactly holding onto any form of hope.
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character/story inspiration tag
rules: write up a blurb or make a visual collage of the people or characters (from books, TV shows, movies, etc.) that inspired your story and/or OC, either visually, personality wise, or just a general vibe
tagged by @morrigan-sims & @goldenwaves ♥
FROZEN PINES: Strange Trails by Lord Huron with lyrics from Frozen Pines // The Wall by Pink Floyd // The Sixth Sense (1999) // Life is Strange // Supernatural s4ep1 "Lazarus Rising" // lyrics from Kin by Radical Face // a magic 8 ball // It (2017) // Stand By Me (1986) // Lovers of Modena // SYFY article on black holes
CASPER MAYFIELD: Montero by Lil Nas X // French Exit by TV Girl // Troy Bolton from High School Musical // Carmy Berzatto from The Bear // lyrics from Off My Mind by Joe P // Brian O'Conner (+ Mia Toretto) from Fast & Furious
COCO ARIAS: Lyrics from My Own Dance by Kesha // Fiona Gallagher from Shameless // Back to Black by Amy Winehouse // adult film star Angela White // Lyrics from Gimme More by Britney Spears // Who Really Cares by TV Girl // Xena from Xena: Warrior Princess
ELAINE NGUYEN: Fearless by Taylor Swift // the record by boygenius // quote from Lang Leav // lyrics from Seventeen by Sharon Van Etten // Juliet Capulet from Romeo and Juliet // Jackie Taylor from Yellowjackets // lyrics from Let It All Out by COIN
STEVIE DONOVAN: Lyrics from Big Fat Mouth by Arlie // unknown artwork // Aloy from Horizon Zero Dawn // lyrics from Space Cadet by The Technicolors // Broken Bells by Broken Bells // Dreamland by Glass Animals // Nomi Marks from Sense8 // climbing by Lucille Clifton
JADA CAREY: Lyrics from Hush by The Marias // quote from Frank Bidart // When the Pawn... by Fiona Apple // Raven Baxter from That's So Raven // Mystery by Jesse Jo Stark // unknown artwork // quote from Margaret Atwood
ALISA MARCIANO: Lyrics from Under Your Skin by Aesthetic Perfection // Carrie White from Carrie // artwork by griefmother // You Forgot It In People by Broken Social Scene // So Tonight That I Might See by Mazzy Star // lyrics from Desire by Meg Myers
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character/story influences tag
rules: write up a blurb or make a visual collage of the people or characters (from books, TV shows, movies, etc.) that inspired your story and/or OC, either visually, personality wise, or just a general vibe
thanks for the tag @tricoufamily :DD i am tagging @gunthermunch @lucidicer @itsmariejanel @orphyd @goldenwaves this is FUN u should do it. thank u
medias/characters
meet me in the woods: man in the dark (paul auster), orlando (virginia woolf), lord huron's entire discography, specifically meet me in the woods and the ghost on the shore, the godfather 1972 (barely), age of adaline 2015, the old guard 2020, this specific cc cross, and reading homer's the iliad in my final year of high school. somehow
don't go where i can't follow: the raven cycle (maggie stiefvater), his dark materials (philip pullman), adventure time 2010-2018, mitski’s bury me at makeout creek album, next of kin by alvvays, bite the hand by boygenius, matilda (roald dahl) (jokingly), horrible no good homoerotic teenage friendships, the chosen one trope, and this post by tumblr user @/louisegluckpdf. also my life which explains why the aesthetic is completely disjointed RIP
violent affairs (with @lucidicer): nbc hannibal, bones and all 2022, arachnids, ethel cain’s preacher's daughter, sir chloe’s i am the dog album, mine and olli's deranged combined mental energies mutually focusing on t4t cannibalism
vinny reign: matt murdock (netflix daredevil), joel miller (tlou), the fallen angel painting by alexandre cabanel, caravaggio paintings, catholic guilt, arsonist’s lullabye by hozier
caleb vatore: those italian twinks that renaissance artists kept referencing to paint religious figures, dorian gray, orlando, timothee chalamet (LMAO), the reveal that the noo don’t kill yourself you’re so sexy guy is a twink
[redacted] morrow: gojo satoru, howl pendragon (studio ghibli), jay gatsby, kageyama shigeo and also a bit of reigen arataka (mp100), ronan lynch and gansey (the raven cycle), eden's entire discography, birdcage by novo amor, mercy by sir chloe, myself
ophelia griffin: ophelia painting by john everett millais, blue sargent (the raven cycle), clairo, phoebe bridger's discography, strawberry blonde and your best american girl by mitski, clairo’s immunity album, the first crush i ever had
manny pluto: yotasuke takahashi (blue period), tbh a lot of blue period in general, alhaitham (genshin impact), adam parrish (the raven cycle), a hint of geto suguru, working for the knife by mitski
nayef al karim: spiders, abel AND cain, julian slowik (the menu 2022), hannibal lecter (yes obvious i know but moreso the focus on fine dining as opposed to the psychology), stewy hosseini (succession), inbred by ethel cain
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"Once A Soot, Always A Soot."
Chapter 04 of "If You Look At Me, I'll Listen To You."
➵ PAIRING! clinic!villain!wilbur x hero!reader
➵ CREATING! 12.26.23 | 4103 words
➵ CONTAINING! the origin of how wilbur and reader met, child neglection, lovers to strangers angst, tommy being a clueless little soul
➵ SAYING! holy shit it actually pained me to write the last couple sentences of the chapter. i had so much fun writing this i immediately started working on chapter 6, and im also on the works of making the origin story of how they started dating so that’s going to be super fun :) message me if you’d like to be on my taglist for this series!
My masterlist :)
─── ・ 。゚☆: .☽ . :☆゚. ───
“You never told me you had a lifelong best friend!”
We both smiled, but Wil and I could see it in each others eyes.
It was much, much more than that..
“Wilbur..?”
My mind was racing a thousand thoughts, but all of them screamed the same coherent thought. My eyes lingered on that white streak in his hair. The same hair streak I saw when Siren was sitting right up close to me.
It was all the same.
The same jawline.
The same mop of hair.
The same sleek body shape.
It was all there and right in front of me.
“Hey.. Uh, didn’t expect to see you out so late.” Wil chuckled as he scratched the back of his neck. “Were you just heading in? Y’know the shop is closing in like an hour.”
Quick, think of an excuse.
“Oh, um— yeah. I had a late night and was just in the area so I— I decided to go here.” I stuttered out. Though it was messy explaining, it was believable. Wil stood there, seemingly a bit nervous as his hands wrapped around the strap of his bag.
“Ah, yeah, I get those too..”
The tension was thick and awkward. If I wanted to break out of this thoroughly, I’d have to go with my lie. Which also meant another minute with Wilbur.
Or shall I say—
Siren.
“I-I’ll be going in now..” I muttered.
“Oh— yeah, hold on let me get the door for you.” Wil jogged to the door before I could get there to hold the door generously. I muttered a quick thank you before being met with the familiar chimes of the cafe. There behind the counter was Tommy, who was just cleaning the counter.
Audibly, I could hear a groan erupt from Tom’s throat before I approached the counter. “Welcome to Puffy’s Cloudy Cafe what can I—” Tom turned around only to be met with my nervous expression and Wilbur behind me. “..Started for you. Hey, (y/n). What’re you..” He seemed to be trailing off as he maintained eye contact with the man behind me. He decided not to ask any questions.
“I’ll just have a flat white with two shots of espresso.” I dug into my bag and slid over $10 bucks. “Please.” Tommy nodded before taking the bill and stuffing it into the register. He proceeded to make my drink as I nervously moved side to side.
It felt like my heart was skipping beats. I thought these circumstances couldn’t get any worse. My childhood best friend, my first love, my ex, they’re all siren?! The dangerous man I see on the news near 24/7 terrorizing the city as he simply watches with a smirk on his face. It was all too overbearing to even think about.
“(y/n)?” Tommy snapped me out of my thoughts. I shook my head, realizing I was still at the counter.
“Thanks, Tom.” I hastily grabbed the cup of coffee before taking a seat. I took a minute to myself, just sitting there with no type of expression on my face. All of these thoughts, connections, drawn out lines, they were all finally aligning, and it was as if just like that..
I figured out the dynamic of the syndicate.
I rushed to open my phone, and as if my thumbs had a mind of their own, I began to jot down every thought that ran across my mind. I didn’t let one bit of information be forgotten. Everything was going to be written down and stored in my phone, and God forbid anybody knows this information until it was ready for the world.
In a way I felt like I betrayed the hero society and all of L’manburg, knowing that I’ve dated the one and only Siren. And not only that, I’ve been associated, with the founder of the Syndicate.
That’s right.
If Wilbur is Siren, then it would be a god damn miracle if Phil and Techno weren’t associated with the Syndicate.
I haven’t seen Phil and Techno in years as well, but based on what I knew growing up, whenever Wilbur, Techno, and I would play, Techno would always be training or practicing with blades. He was nothing but a God at swordsmanship.
Blades.
If Wilbur was Siren, then Techno had to be Blade! That would explain the dynamic between Blade and Siren whenever on the battlefield. They argued like brothers because they are brothers. Shit, there’s no way I’m figuring all of this shit out?!
My hand covered half of my face, and I almost had to stop myself from bursting out laughing. I was going insane because of this realization, and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take before this would drive me to the edge.
I couldn’t help but think about the past when I would spend nights sometimes at the Soot household. I remember the little lectures Phil would give Wilbur and me to keep the door open and if I was going to sleepover then Wil would have to sleep on the floor and I would sleep on the bed. That rule didn’t last long though. By the third time I was spending nights at their house, Phil would quietly creak open the door only to see Wil and I’s limbs tangled around each other like inseparable vines.
But these.. People.. Can’t be murderers. Can they..?
They raised me. They helped me understand the world better than any of my relatives could. They took me to the diner where I could eat tasty muffins— Hell, they were my family! But to be the leading members of the syndicate.. I..
“(y/n)? Are you okay?!”
The last thing I remember was clicking my phone off before dropping to the ground.
.
“Tommy, are you sure they’re going to be alright?!”
“Yes, Wil, stop being such a baby.”
Fuck.. What happened..?
My eyes fluttered open, only to meet the blaring ceiling lights flooding my vision. My back ached from lying on the stiff tile floor with only a towel to shield me from the dirty marble. My throat felt dry and my head was pounding.
“Where..” I rubbed my head as I used all of my strength to hoist myself up. “Where am I..?” I muttered hoarsely. Wilbur and Tom whipped their heads around, immediately their attention was on me.
“(y/n), fuck! You’re okay!” Wil cried. He was about to lunge at me for a hug, but the moment he raised his arms I flinched, making him back down on his actions immediately. His smile quickly faded before he glanced at Tom, who only thinned his lips in response. I looked at the two of them, a little uncomfortable at my given position now. Tommy was the first to speak up after the uncomfortable silence.
“You’re in Puffy’s Cafe right now. You fainted suddenly and you’ve been out for thirty minutes.” Tommy explained. “Are you okay?” I blinked a few times, and almost at an instant, all my memories came back.
The Soot family..
Fuck..
“Y-Yeah..” I lied through gritted teeth. “Yeah.. I’m just a little overworked I guess.” I looked down shielded my eyes from the light. I couldn’t stand to look at them anymore. Could I even trust them..? Be even in the presence of them, especially Wilbur?! I took a deep breath, biting my tongue before I could say anything I could regret. “I-I need to head home soon.. What time is it?” I asked. I watched Wil’s hand move to check his watch.
“..It’s around 11pm, which is like 30 minutes after closing.” Wilbur looked at me worriedly. “It’s dangerous to be out this late.”
“I-I live in West End which is like two hours from here..” I muttered. I could only imagine Wil’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Well that’s damn far..” Tommy thought to himself. “How about they stay at our place, eh?”
Immediately my head perked up, and I’m sure the expression of shock wasn’t hard to notice. The same expression reflected on Wilbur as well as we both stared at a blank faced Tommy.
“What?” Tom said. “You guys know each other, don’t you?” He sounded so clueless to Wil and I’s given relationship, I could almost feel bad for the boy. Wil and I looked at each other in confusion and distraught.
“I.. Uh..” Wilbur muttered. I could see he was regretting some choices as he frantically looked at me. His eyes were split between “Please ignore this dumb child” and “I’m embarrassing myself right now just being this close to you.”
“I guess I could stay.” I replied, blankly.
“What?” Wilbur said.
‘what’ was the right reaction, because what was I even saying?! Staying over at the Soots when I barely just realized that they are the Syndicate?! Maybe I was still dazed or hit my head too hard after I knocked out because honestly what the fuck was I even doing here being surrounded by.. By them?!
“Y-yeah..” I stuttered out. “I could stay. Plus it’s like what Tom said—” I turned over to look at Wilbur. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Wilbur looked like he was about to go on a rampage of words, but at the same, his throat prevented him from any sound coming out. So instead, he was stuck in this awkward pose of almost saying something but then saying nothing at all. Tom just shrugged before standing up.
“Well that makes things easier doesn’t it? Will doesn’t have to stress so much, and (y/n) can be somewhere safe for the night.” He said, dusting his hands off.
Yeah.. “safe.”
I stood up as well, removing the towel from the floor and handing the fabric to Tommy. Wil was still in shock. sitting as he stared blankly at the floor. “The house is just a train ride away, so it shouldn’t take so long. Maybe twenty minutes at max.” Tommy explained. “I’m going to put this away and lock up shop.” And with that, Tommy left Wil and I together .
Alone.
Siren
and me.
Wilbur stood up, brushing off his pants before looking at me. His glasses glistened under the beaming ceiling light, and his sleeves were rolled back to his elbows. He didn’t stand up straight, instead he had this sort of hunch posture, and was too mesmerized to correct it. I looked down, shifting my weight from left to right as we awkwardly stood in front of each other.
“So, uh..” I spoke. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been uh..” Wilbur scratched his head. “—Good. I’ve been doing good.”
Wow, this was extremely uncomfortable. As much as that clueless, gremlin child didn’t serve much of a purpose for me, right now would be a great time to come back.
“You look.. Really beautiful, by the way.” Wilbur quickly uttered out. I swiftly looked up, taken a little aback at his compliment. “I mean uh—! You look nice, (y/n)! You look.. Uh..” His face became a red mess. To save himself from anymore embarrassment he covered his hands with his lengthy fingers and looked away.
If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t believe this man was the same person that has killed thousands of people, much less a few dozen right in front of me.
Tommy returned from the backroom, holding the keys to the establishment. “Alright, you two,” he announced. “Let’s go.”
We all exited out of the building in silence with Tommy being the last so that he could lock the door closed. The three of us treaded in near silence with the midnight crickets and the hum of the streetlights to keep us company. Tommy walked between Wilbur and I, serving as our saving grace from anymore awkward tension. That was until Tommy started to ask questions about me.
“So, (y/n)..” Tommy dragged out.
“Yes, Tom?” I responded. I kept my head straight forward as we spoke.
“How do you know my buddy Wilbur over here? Since y’know, he decided not to tell me anything about y— ow!” Tommy was interrupted by a harsh shove served by Wil.
“Well I uh..” I peeked over to look at Wilbur, who still had that embarrassed look on his face. Only he looked more upset at Tommy than anything. His cheeks were still pink from the previous flush. “I-I’m comfortable telling the story, but only if Wil is.” I clarified. Tommy’s interest immediately turned toward me, no longer annoyed by Wilbur’s silent bullying. Wilbur perked his head up as well, his expression softening.
“I.. I’m okay with it.” Wil finally mumbled. I smiled a little before turning back to face forward.
“Then I guess we should start with how we met.”
I was 12 when I moved to South Bay with my aunt and uncle. After my family had suffered a tragic fate, I was given the choice to either live within the foster system or to reside with my closest relatives. Obviously, I chose my relatives. Though they were smiles and light-hearted jokes on the outside, they couldn’t care less that I was someone living under their roof. I was always given the leftover portions of their meals and never had anything to myself, but if I were to, it would’ve been a hand-me-down older than me or something they saw as useless. I was blessed enough to even have my own room, but even then, it felt so alone and cold.
After I turned 13 I thought of myself as “grown,” so I would often leave the house without telling my uncle or aunt, but even then, it was like they didn’t even care. I wasn’t lectured, I wasn’t taught any differently, I was simply just an accessory to the house. I remember vividly I wandered around the neighborhood as the sun was staring to set, and the streets were starting to quiet down. I wanted to spend that evening at the nearby park, swinging as I watched the sky turn orange and red.
When I made it to the park, there was only one family there. It was a father, and two boys who looked about the same age. Though neither of them look related in the slightest, they were close and bonded together as if they were. A panging feeling in my chest kind of stuck with me at the sight of them— a family so close together despite not being blood relative. And here I was, freely exploring the world with no parents to worry about me at home. Though it sounded like a damn blessing to other kids my age, I’ve never felt so.. Isolated.
I did my best to avoid where the family was and made a B-line to the swings. The two boys were playing around on the jungle gym as the man watched with a content smile on his face. I tried my best to ignore the sight, and instead focus on the sky, glowing in such warm colors.
I rocked back and forth, trying to swing as high as I can. Every time I would swing, my goal was to be able to touch the sky. A childish dream I had.
“Dad, who is that?” one of the boys asked while tugging at his father's sleeve.
The man looked over, a little surprised to see me. I pretended not to notice them talking about me and proceeded with my swinging.
“Hm, I don't know, Wil,” the dad said. I learned that the boy asking about me was named Wil.
“Can I play with them..?” he asked. Immediately I stopped swinging, dragging my feet into the mulch and looking at them. I don't know if I was scared, surprised, or excited that someone had finally noticed me. I'm sure the man saw the mix of feelings in my eyes too.
The man leaned down and talked softly to Wil before he nodded. Wil then walked toward me, and immediately I was freezing up. I gripped onto the swing chains tight as I could only watch in fear. Once Wil was in front of me, he smiled.
“Hi,” he greeted. “My name is Wilbur. What's your name?”
“(y-y/n)..” I stuttered. Wilbur nodded before pointing at the swing next to me.
“Can I swing with you?” he asked. It was an innocent offer, but something about it made me tear up. It was the first time anybody wanted to play with me.
“O-okay..” I nodded. “Do you want to know the game I'm playing?” I quietly asked. Wil nodded eagerly before hopping onto the swing.
Once I explained the game to him, we were having the time of our lives, swinging through the breezes while reaching our little hands to the sky. We were giggling, making it a little competition to see who could swinging the highest. And even when the sunset disappeared we were still reaching for the stars, and it took some lecturing from, who I learned to be, Phil, to get Wil finally off the swings.
“Where are your parents, little one?” Phil asked.
“I.. Um..” I fumbled for some sort of excuse. “My parents are here! They're just.. Shopping right now.” I pointed to the town just across the playground. “There.”
Though it looked as if Phil didn't buy it, he simply nodded, and wished me a goodnight and safety.
After that, it began routine to meet Wil at the playground with his family. We would make up games together and run around. Or sometimes, Wil and I would hide under the jungle gym and talk of stories and dreams. One day, I decided to have a private conversation with Phil on my living circumstances, ultimately asking if I could stay over at their place every once in a while. Phil being the caring man he is, agreed, which led to sleepovers and finally finding safety and comfort within a family.
Bringing myself back to the present, I sighed and looked over towards Wil and Tommy. Wil had a nostalgic smile on his face, as if he was also reliving those memories with me. Tom on the other hand, had a face of curiosity and surprise. Tom turned over to Wil and playfully nudged him on the shoulder.
“You never told me you have a lifelong best friend!” Tom exclaimed. Wil chuckled before ruffling the boy's hair.
“Well.. I mean yeah..” he sighed. Wil and I looked at each other. We both knew it was so much more than that.
We had finally made it the house. As it stood in all it's glory, it looked no different from what I remember. Tom and I walked inside as Wil locked the door behind us. It was definitely refurnished to match the wealth of their family.
Another clue as to them being the Syndicate.
Regardless, I took my shoes off and hung up my jacket. I turned to look at Wil, who looked like was thinking about something.
“Wilbur?” I called out. He shook his head and looked at me.
“S-sorry.. I was just thinking about where you're going to sleep. When Tom moved in he took the guest room— and I feel like it would be rude if I made you sleep in the living room—” Wil began to ramble but then paused before exhaling. He clasped his hands together and looked at me. “Are you.. Okay with sleeping in my room—? Not that I'll be in the room with you! I could sleep in the living room or with Tom or something..”
Wilbur's room..?
A jumble of memories began to flash all at once, and I was starting to feel lightheaded again. I quickly shook out of my thoughts before looking at Wil.
“Y-yeah.. Sure..” I replied softly. Tom had already headed upstairs for bed. I trailed behind Wil as he led me upstairs to his room, which if anything, I could've located on my own based on muscle memory.
Wilbur creaked the door open, and if anything, it was all exactly the same. A pile of clothes in one corner, a desk littered with papers with scribbled writing, and a guitar on the bedside.
“Wow,” I said out loud. Wil turned to look at me with slightly raised eyebrow. “it's almost as how I remember it..”
“Ah.. Yeah..” Wil nodded. He walked in and started to go through his drawers, fetching some spare clothes for me to wear. I circled around the room examining any crevice. I knew this was my opportunity to seize new evidence, but that child in me refused, and only wished for me to enjoy the moment.
“Here.” Wil handed me a pair of folded up sweats and a shirt for me to wear. After further examination, I realized that these were the pajamas I would often wear when coming over to their place back then: Wilbur's dark gray sweatpants and a large black graphic tee of our favorite anime.
“..Thank you.” I said to Wil. I looked up to face him. A melancholy smile rested on his face as that small tint of pink rested on his cheekbones. His brown eyes, though we were in a dimmed room, sparkled a bit with sincerity.
“Of course uh..” He stood there for a minute, staring at me, before he cleared his throat and headed out the door. “If you need me, I’ll be in Tom’s room which is just the next room to the left, okay?” He held onto the doorknob. “Goodnight, (y/n).”
“..Goodnight, Wilbur.” I replied, softly. He gave me one last look before closing the door shut.
I stood there with Wilbur’s clothes still in my hands.
My heart was pounding, and if anything, the room felt stuffy despite the A/C in Wil’s room being at a cool 69 degrees. I felt the butterflies fluttering in my stomach, and all they wanted was to escape far and away. I wasn’t sure if I was flustered or anxious being in this room again. Whatever it was, I desperately needed to pull myself together.
Siren is Wilbur.
And Wilbur is Siren.
But Wilbur also gave me these soft clothes to wear whenever I was too scared to sleep by myself.
And Wilbur, despite our final argument before we separated, still kept the clothes after all these years. I sighed before changing out of my clothes. As I did, I noticed that the more I looked around, there were still bits of me still left in his room.
On the wall, there was a band poster we got for free after a concert we went to together. On his nightstand was an action figure I bought for his birthday, and scattered around the room, there were small house plants I got for him throughout the years. After I fitted into the sweatpants perfectly, I walked over to his desk. In a little box there were pieces of ripped paper and different colored sticky notes. Curiously, I picked one of them up.
That's when my heart stopped.
Without realizing, tears were starting to form in my eyes, near clouding up my vision. My chest ached and my throat tightened up, as if my whole body was forcing down a loud sob.
“I love you, my honey voice :)” was written in my handwriting. On the next line was written in Wilbur’s handwriting.
“I love you more, my beautiful star.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: .☽ . :☆゚. ───
a / n ~ ouch the bittersweet angst was STINGING. notes of all kind are super duper appreciated! I am actually in love with this series, so its exciting to see other people also in love with the story :) spoiler for next chapter-- DELUSION AND SIREN ARE FINALLY FIGHTING RAGHHH
tagging ~ @listenheresweaty @joviepog @missy1138 @heartofwritiing @tiredandbisexual @themonsterunderurmom @ax-y10 @itstumblerwhyareyouangry @virusalex @meowm30ws
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hello! I luv your writing <3
I wanna request the creeps (whoever youd like) and their fav music! fav songs or genres, etc. thank you :)
🗒 ❛ Their Music Taste ༉‧₊˚✧
Featuring: Jeff The Killer, Ben Drowned, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, Masky, Hoodie
#Notes: *tiktok sound voice* YOURE ASKING ME ABOUT MY THEORIES?? IVE WAITED YEARS FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ME ABOUT MY THEORIES!!!
˗ˏˋ back to navigation ´ˎ˗
꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Jeff The Killer
Anything kinda emo and with intense screaming in it or just a violent vibe in general. Pierce The Veil and Bring Me The Horizon are two big favorites. My Chemical Romance and Kim Dracula are also a good example of what he likes. (Might or might not listen to Evanescence in secret). Here's a quick look at his playlist:
OBEY bring me the horizon & yungblud
BREAK STUFF limp bizkit
CAN YOU FEEL MY HEART bring me the horizon
CARAPHERNELIA pierce the veil
1-800-CLOSE-UR-EYES kim dracula
MAMA my chemical romance
꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ben Drowned
Honestly I think he's kind of eclectic, but if I had to choose one genre, it'd be brazilian trap, specifically Uxie Kid and Yung Lixo (though I might be biased). Maybe some general trap metal as well, those that you can't even find on Spotify and are only in Youtube.
BLOW UP cam steady & fabvl
RAGE TALK eru
ILLUMINATI shark47
FLOW BOMBA PATCH uxie kid
ZORRA TOTAL yun wob & uxie kid
9MM yung lixo & d$ luqi
꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ticci Toby
I mentioned in my headcanons post for him, but he loves folk punk. His favorite artist is definitely AJJ, but he also likes The Taxpayers and some other genre bands/artists like McCafferty and The Front Bottoms. Will listen to pretty much anything, but these are his favorites.
BRAVE AS A NOUN ajj
I LOVE YOU LIKE AN ALCOHOLIC the taxpayers
TREES mccafferty
TWIN SIZED MATTRESS the front bottoms
ROMEO & JULIET hobo johnson
I'M NOT ALRIGHT shinedown
꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Eyeless Jack
Besides classical music and maybe even lofi while he's reading, he really enjoys calmer and softer songs and artists, such as Sufjan Stevens and some Mitski songs. Anything that had a tranquil vibe is perfect to him. Also, major Hozier fan.
JOHN MY BELOVED sufjan stevens
I BET ON LOSING DOGS mistki
ALL I WANT kodaline
TAKE ME TO CHURCH hozier
OPHELIA the lumineers
THE NIGHT WE MET lord huron
꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Masky
Really into classic rock, like from the 80's up to early 2000's. Gigantic AC/DC, Kansas and Bon Jovi fan, probably has some shirts or something. Also, he's one of the most judgmental when it comes to other people's music taste, thinking that his is "superior". Honestly, if you wanna know his taste, just search up "Supernatural series soundtrack".
BACK IN BLACK ac/dc
AERIALS system of a down
CARRY ON WAYWARD SON kansas
EYE OF THE TIGER survivor
LIVIN' ON A PRAYER bon jovi
TNT ac/dc
꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Hoodie
Will listen to pretty much anything, but his favorite has gotta be indie, rock or a combination of the two. Definitely knows how to play a few Nirvana songs. Really likes bands such as Arctic Monkeys, Lovejoy and The Neighborhood. Since he's nice and doesn't really mind other genres, he normally lets other people pick the music even though his taste is top tier.
A LITTLE DEATH the neighborhood
ARABELLA arctic monkeys
CALL ME WHAT YOU LIKE lovejoy
SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT nirvana
I DON'T DANCE i hate myself because
SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK joji
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DAY 11 | NIGHT WE MET
PAIRING: lee minho x reader
GENRE: angst, unrequited love, college au, non idol au
WC: 1.27k
CW: profesional dancer!minho, mentioned reader/gunil (xdinary heroes), seonghwa (ateez) cameo
PROMPT: realizing they fell for the other one too late
this is the angst one. i'm sorry in advance. i know i sneaked in yet another random relationship, but it fits the plot. and i will use any excuse to sneak gunil anywhere lol. also i have no idea how weddings in sk work, so i just wrote what i know. the wedding isnt even important anyway lol. i hope you enjoy reading <3
title from the night we met - lord huron
general masterlist here
<< previous | mctc masterlist | next >>
Minho propped his head on his hand and looked out of the window. He wasn't really watching nature outside the train window; it just served as a distraction. And a cover, so the other people sitting around him won't see his face, even though it's covered by a mask. His deep brown boba eyes weren't, and that eyes are the windows to the soul was a saying for a reason. Especially for Minho. Many people have told him that despite his mysteriously closed-off attitude, his eyes have always betrayed him, telling his deepest secrets to the world.
And especially now, he didn't particularly feel the need to spill his heart to the unknown woman sitting opposite him. Not that she would notice, given the fact that she had been arguing over the phone for the past twenty minutes, but it was better to be safe than sorry. His thoughts were in dangerous territory. As they always did for the past few months, they wandered to you. Minho hadn't seen you for almost a year. The last time you two saw each other was last summer, when you took advantage of the summer break to go on a late August vacation with your whole friend group. Then your lives kicked off; you became busy with your university work, and Minho didn't even make it to Jisung's birthday before his company sent him off to dance for some idol group on tour. But now the tour was finishing, and Minho was on his way back to Seoul. He wasn't supposed to be back for another week, but he made a deal with the company. His best friend Chan was getting married, and Minho planned to surprise him.
But because Chan was also your friend, it meant you would be there too. And here was the core problem. In the time spent around the world and being able to exchange only a few texts a day, often with multiple-hour delays, Minho realized something. Minho realized that he was a complete idiot for what he did back in August. He pondered over the conversation you had the last night of your vacation many times. When it got late and he was in his hotel room, unable to sleep, his mind found its way towards that specific moment, replaying every second of it so vividly that it felt like watching a movie. And with every replay, Minho began slowly realizing something important.
He remembered how you pulled him aside that day, telling him to come meet you outside the beachhouse you and friends rented. He remembered standing there while you went to put on something warmer than a tank top. You walked barefoot alongside the beach, the waves occasionally splashing your ankles. Minho remembered how the stars shone brightly above your heads, mirrored in your eyes. It was romantic, Minho recalled. The breeze had been playing with your hair as you stopped and turned to face him. And then you told him. You confessed with tears in the corners of your eyes, telling him about all the heavy feelings you had harbored since March. You told him how it would be fine if he rejected you, but you just needed to get it off your chest because it was killing you on the inside to have him so close yet so out of reach.
And Minho, being the fool he was, said no. He said he was flattered but didn't feel the same. He only saw you as a friend. You nodded. Minho reached to wipe the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, and you smiled at him. You told him it was okay, you understood. You would just need a little time to allow your heart to get over it as well. Reaching forward, you pressed a light kiss to his cheek and began walking back to the house, leaving Minho on the moonlit beach alone. When he woke up the next morning, you were gone. And that was the last time he saw you. He gave you time, like he promised, and then he left for the tour.
Sometime after two months of touring, you began texting like you used to, but Minho could sense something had shifted. As a matter of fact, it took him several more months to realize what, but he knew it from the start. He got too used to the fact that, in his life, you were a constant. You never left, not even after a few particularly nasty fights. In the end, you were there. Everywhere. Always. So being away from you made him realize just how much he missed you. And not only that. In the lonely, sleepless nights, he had room to think. And he did indeed. He thought about you, what you were doing, or how you were feeling. He thought about how dear you were to him and that he wouldn't know what to do if he lost you. He thought about what his heart did at the mention of your name. He thought about what your texts made him feel. And he came to the conclusion that he was completely, utterly fucked.
Because he was in love with you. He was in love with you for the whole duration of the tour. He was in love with you even back then, in August. He was just too stupid to realize it then.
But now he was going to fix it. He was going to surprise you, spill his heart, and hope you haven't moved on yet. He had watched your Instagram almost obsessively, and you haven't posted anything about a new partner. That hope was what got him through the tour, because as soon as he realized it, he was really close to just packing his things and leaving right there and then. He wanted to tell you in person because you didn't deserve anything less, and he wanted to do it soon.
When Minho arrived at the venue, he went to greet Chan and his friends but avoided you at all costs. As soon as reception began, though, he immediately began searching for you. When he found you, he had to remind himself to stay calm. You hugged, exchanged a few sentences about how you were, and then he came. An unknown man holding two drinks joined you, giving one of them to you. You smiled as a thank-you and said the words that shattered Minho's world. “Oh, Min. Meet Gunil, my boyfriend.”
It took all of Minho's willpower to smile, bow, and shake Gunil's hand before he excused himself. He knew this was his fault. He couldn't blame you for moving on and for finding someone who was there when he couldn't. He cared too much about you to do that. He was the one who was late, and now he had to suffer the consequences. He found himself at the bar, a drink in hand. He downed it in one go and, with a raspy voice, asked the bartender, Seonghwa, according to the name tag, for another one. He didn't ask questions; he simply filled Minho's glass again. And again. Until Minho had too much to drink and the bartender had to take him out for some fresh air.
As Seonghwa led him outside, Minho caught a glimpse of you on the dance floor in Gunil's arms, head thrown back in laughter as your boyfriend spun you around. A part of Minho felt happy for you. Another part of him wished he would find someone to pick up the pieces of his broken heart, just like Gunil did for you.
taglist: @stayconnecteed @saintriots @vivioluh @ivaneedssleep @jazziwritesthings @darkypooo
©starlostastronaut 2023 | do not repost/translate my work without permission
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Is there a song where the minute you hear it you think of the story itself or the vibe of it? Same question about the characters. (This can include mc and willow)
General Vibes/Willow/MC: Ghost on the Shore by Lord Huron.
" Lie where I land let my bones turn to sand / I was born on the lake and I don't want to leave / Every eye on the coast ever more / Will remember the sight of the ghost on the shore. "
Beck: Bloody Shirt by To Kill a King
" Oh you lie next to me / Heart is beating heavily / Blood in your hair though / Blood on your shirt / It's too late to say you're sorry / Say you're sorry still. "
Croft: Hollow by Cloudeater
" I move in all directions / I don't need any protection / And this beast is interjecting / And this soul can't help but connect it / And I'm ill with all that I know / Cause it shows what little I know / I want sacred, I want final / And I'm seeking it wherever I go. "
Jay: May Loving Hands Show You The Way by Grand Commander
" The thought of moving on is wrong when / All I want is feeling a / Forgotten song that's falling from my / Fingers like a dream into the mist. "
Perri: Touch-Tone Telephone by Lemon Demon
" I try to call you every day / I'm rehearsing what to say when the truth comes out (of my very own mouth) / I've been working on a unified theory / If I make it through tonight, everybody's gonna hear me out. "
Ravi: The Fear Song by Amanda Palmer
" They left me at night in the heart of the forest, the air full of noises / The creatures that eat us just feet from my face / As their wild cries sounded, and darkness surrounded / And still I did not bat an eye. "
Yasmin: Like Real People Do by Hozier
" I could not ask you where you came from / I could not ask, neither could you / Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips / We could just kiss like real people do. "
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Right Where You Left Me
WC: 5.5k
Pairing: Echo x f!reader
Summary: After Echo was presumed dead, you started a new life on Tatooine, but what happens when he comes back?
A/N: This is a two-fer! @starboytech and I did the roll for clone that @ghostofskywalker created a while back, and I was able to combine it with a prompt for @clonexreaderbingo! My roll for clone prompts included Echo, exes, fluff, and a playlist! So enjoy this fic that got away from me, I will be writing another part or so, and enjoy the playlist below! Also this playlist is for like this fic vibes and I prommy its fluffy but the general synopsis is slightly angst so sorry for all the sad songs!!!!!
You Missed My Heart- Phoebe Bridgers
Cornelia Street- Taylor Swift
Come Back, Be Here-Taylor Swift
Chicago-Louis Tomlinson
Right Where You Left Me-Taylor Swift
Fine Line-Harry Styles
Francesca-Hozier
The Night We Met-Lord Huron
You really had no idea what brought you to this godforsaken dust pile. Well, technically it was a collective bantha shitload of grief and a well placed advertisement promising a new life and a new career. What the advertisement promised was the aforementioned new life and career, somewhere exotic where no one knew your name. What the advertisement didn’t disclose until you were on the landing platform of the Mos Eisley spaceport with your bags in hand was what an absolute wasteland Tatooine really was. In reality, you could’ve coughed up the cash and went home to Coruscant, or even to your birth system, but what was there to go back to? Echo, your love and light and bright spot in every way, was gone, he’d been gone since the Citadel and there was no chance he was coming back. You couldn’t keep dragging his brothers down when they came to visit you, or moping around your friends’ wine nights. Besides, your credits went far here and you were out of the way enough to escape the general turmoil of the war–and the foundation of the Empire.
The work came easy, and you settled into a stable routine. The cantina paid fine, and you were able to afford a small house in one of the lesser crime ridden areas of the town. Serving drinks was simple and mind numbing, and you found it easy to bat your eyelashes and flirt your way into extra tips. Every so often a rogue bounty hunter or homesteader tried to take you out, and once or twice you even obliged. The last man you agreed to go out with, a quiet moisture farmer named Timo, became one of your closest friends on the system when you explained you just didn’t have it in you. You hated pulling the “dead boyfriend” card, you had built your character here on being strong and dependable, so just settled with calling him your ex. And so he remained your ex Echo, allowing you only the quiet moments of the night to truly mourn him.
What you hadn’t counted on, exactly, was how hard it was to stay dead.
*
Timo was hunched over the bar, sipping some new ale your boss had smuggled in recently when his eyes pointed over to the group of men sitting down nearby. “New bounty hunters?”
You eyed them suspiciously, four men, two with their backs to you. Of the two who faced you, one had the familiar face and stature of a clone trooper, altered only by his shaggy hair and face tattoo, and the other appeared to be his brother, though you hadn’t recalled ever seeing a clone of that size and stature before. You’d seen a trooper or two around here before, but seeing a full squad was surprising. The other two men appeared buried in their work, and your heart ached at the sight of cybernetics on one of the men’s bodies. You looked a little further and your mouth dropped open, eyes shooting back to Timo. “Did they bring a fucking child in here?”
Timo looked over before bringing a hand up to his mouth, stifling a laugh. “I mean, when in Mos Eisley I guess?”
You made to move over there, you rarely got involved in customer’s business, frankly you were convinced that's how you’d survived this long, but a child in the bar was evidently your line. You leaned closer to yell at them when an all too familiar voice broke through the air.
“Right, ‘cuz Cyd’s never given us a reason to distrust her before.”
You knew it was crazy, he was dead and there were quite literally a million other people with that voice, but it was so him. His cadence, his tone, it was all so surreal it had you dropping the glass you were carrying onto the floor, and you dropped to follow it before the troopers turned to look at you. Timo glanced down worriedly at you, and you looked up at him, eyes wide and mouth open. A memory, one forced down in a feat fueled by both pain and survival, fizzled into your brain.
You were both tangled in your bed, your hands dancing around the tufts of black curls you had your fingers threaded through as Echo murmured sweet nothings into your neck.
“Why do you have to leave, why can’t we just run away to Scarif or something?” you murmured, bringing a hand down to cradle his cheek. He leaned to press his lips against your palm.
“You know I can’t do that.”
“I know, I’d never really ask you to. You know I’m always here waiting for you.”
He’d smirked, pushing himself off of your chest and placing both strong arms on either side of your head. “You’ve never given me a reason to distrust you before.”
You hadn’t realized how long you’d been down there, or how frozen you must’ve been, because Timo was suddenly disappearing from behind the counter and approaching the troopers. You heard his voice murmur something, and more voices responded, before he dashed back to where you crouched behind the bar. “I got help, these two guys are soldiers or something, they said they can check if you’re hurt-”
“Timo…” you groaned, but your voice was pulled back out of your throat when you looked up into Echo’s wide eyes, filled with a heartbreaking combination of fear, shock, and complete adoration.
“Echo?” you asked, voice barely traveling past a whisper, and his eyes widened again in realization that it really was you. Your name came across his lips so soft it was like a prayer, and his arm reached down over the bar to help you up. You grabbed his hand, still not sure if he was even real, how this was even happening. You glanced at your friend who was staring between the two of you with a concerned curiosity, and to the other goggles wearing trooper who seemed to be making the same expression. “Timo, this is Echo.”
“Ahh, the ex. Nice to meet ya’!” Timo extended his hand to Echo and he shot a look at you.
“The ex?”
You sighed, running a hand through your hair and shooting a glare at Echo, “I hardly think that is our biggest issue right now.”
“No, it certainly is not,” goggles trooper stated, looking at the datapad in his hands, “it appears Echo is on the brink of a heart attack.”
“Great, that makes two of us.”
*
It was a short and relatively silent walk to your apartment. Timo had told your manager you had fainted and, given your spotless record, he agreed to give you the rest of the day off. Echo and his squad, and their child soldier, followed you to your house, where you promised they’d be safe and he promised he would talk. It was hard not to stare at him as you walked side by side. He was your Echo, but so much had changed. He was pale and still slightly gaunt, as if the mental scars would never feel. His legs looked to be cybernetic below the mid thigh, and one arm had been replaced by more circuitry and ended in a heavy looking scomp link, not to mention the ports and wiring that wrapped around his head. Above all, he just looked sad. You unconsciously ran a hand through your hair. You didn’t feel much different.
The walk ended shortly and you approached the house. Echo turned to face his brothers when you started unlocking the door. “Guys, it’s fine we can trust her, she’s my ex.” He had huffed as the group of you walked inside.
“Well technically I’m your widow but that seems to be a little redundant now doesn’t it?” You nearly chucked your keys onto the small table near the door, and the child soldier, whose name you learned was Omega, burst in infront of them.
“Look at this place! It’s like a real home!” She yelped, and your heart softened at the way he smiled down at her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Maybe this was why Echo hadn’t called, hadn’t reached for you. He had a family now, and it was becoming strikingly clear that it did not include you. You let them all filter into your home, and pointed out the features around you. It wasn’t huge by any means, but it was a good enough space. You had a small living space with a few sofas and chairs you had collected from neighbors and a well-to-do art dealer you’d met at the bar. There was a kitchenette attached, and you had two bedrooms, though one was doing little else other than collect space. You weren’t entirely sure why you had elected to pick the home with two bedrooms, some gnawing hope in your gut that maybe one day you really would have a family.
“You all can stay as long as you want. I’ve got a spare bedroom, and there’s space to sleep here,” you gestured to the couches around you, “how long will you be on system?”
Echo chimed in, “Three rotations, but we can stay on the ship, really it’s not an issue-”
“Come on Echo, don't be such a downer!” Wrecker is the first to respond, quickly sprawling out on, and dwarfing, the couch closest to the door. “This is the softest couch I’ve ever felt.” His words are enough to spur the interest of Omega and Tech, who both settled on the couch opposite Wrecker. Hunter stayed standing, shooting an apologetic look to his brother. “If it isn’t too much trouble?”
“Not at all, I’d appreciate the company.” You hustle over to the kitchen, pulling out various takeout containers and inspecting each one, placing them on the small counter. “There’s a bunch of leftovers here, don’t know what you’re hungry for but help yourself.” You grab a bottle of wine and a small food container and move closer to Echo, voice dropping to a murmur. “I think you and I ought to have a moment alone.”
He follows you immediately, without even throwing a glance over his shoulder.
The thing you loved about this house was the outdoor space. It wasn’t exactly orthodox, but if you crawled through the window you were able to sit out on the small ledge that gave your back entryway some shadow. It was small and private, due to the small courtyard your house backed up against, and you often left a small candle and a blanket out there to rest after a long day. Now it provided the perfect backdrop to sit with Echo, the chatter inside the house fading to a mumble as you both settled. He was so radiant, even now, eyes looking up at the crimson colored sky. It took everything in you not to reach for his hand right then and there, even though you desperately wanted to. The quiet is deafening, Echo will hardly look at you, and your body is screaming for him, to touch him and make sure he’s still real. This doesn’t feel real, the whole experience. You both quietly sip from your glasses, until one glass turns to two.
It was you who broke the silence first.
"I mourned you, you know." You say, biting with more venom than you intended.
"I'm sorry I hurt you-"
"I was stuck there, stuck in the spot you left me. I couldn't study, couldn't eat. Echo, I missed you."
He has nothing he can say, and you see your words hit their mark. He's hurt you, and he knows it. You sit in the silence for a beat longer and continue.
“I know why you didn’t call me.”
“So you understand?”
“She’s a remarkable little girl, Echo. I don’t know how she came to you, but, I understand. You’ve got a family now.”
“What? Cyare, no-”
“No, I don’t want you to apologize.” You did betray yourself then, placing a hand atop his, “I just want you to know that she seems like she’s worth it.”
“I didn’t call you because you deserve something better.” His voice comes out fast, bitter. He pulls his hand back so fast you gasp at the lack of warmth, even though you haven’t been cold in what feels like millenia since you got to Tatooine. “The day that Rex came to you, I should’ve died. I, I think it would’ve been better.”
Your heart nearly shatters at the admission, and you move closer to him. He doesn’t resist when you put a hand on his cheek, your breath shaking. “Don’t ever say that again.”
“I’m a mess mesh’la. I’m not even whole, I couldn’t see you, couldn’t face you. And my brothers,” his head dips towards the house, “They get me, you know? And we’ve been on the run, honestly, I just figured you’d have found someone else by now.”
You shake your head fast, your tears finally slipping as you watch something, hope perhaps, slip back into Echo’s eyes at your admission. “There’s never been anyone else, there can’t ever be.” You bring your forehead to his, and he closes the gap to press his against yours. “You’re always you, Echo.” You pull backwards, resting on your folded legs. “You’ve got a hand to hold, a face to kiss, your heart to love,” you put a hand on his chest at the admission, and you don’t miss his eyes going glassy, the way he gnaws on his lower lip. “Did you think I wouldn’t love you anymore? That I’m that superficial?”
“It’s not that, you need someone better, someone who can make you happy. What about that guy at the bar, Timmy, Tibo…”
“I don’t want Timo,” you don’t care how pouty you sound now, your face scrunching up, “I want you.”
“You shouldn’t.” It’s an admission that betrays his heart, and his voice cracks as he says it. All you can do is stand and reach for him. He accepts your hand in silence as you hoist him up, long having forgotten about the wine, as you lead him back into your room.
“Sit.” You push his shoulders so he’s seated on your bed, and you walk out of the room. The suns have dipped below the horizon during your conversation, and you want to make sure everyone is settled for the night. Wrecker is fast asleep on the couch, mouth open as he snores with Omega curled into his side. Tech and Hunter are hunched over your kitchen table, though Hunter stands quickly before you get in the room. “I’m locking up for the night, you’re all ok to rest.” You turn to walk away before a voice cuts you off.
“He talked about you. A lot.”
You whip your head around to face Hunter, who is slowly trying to scoop a sleeping Omega into his arms and carry her to the small spare bedroom. He and Tech will figure out who gets the floor or the spare couch. The unspoken implication does not miss you.
“He used to say he had this girl on Coruscant, that she was so smart but so crazy. That you and his brother would steal drinks from Cody’s boys on nights out.”
You laugh at the memory as the two of you walk down the short hall, but there’s a pang of finality in your gut. Echo would never have left Fives alone.
“He said you were a student,”
“Was.” You smile, and unlock the spare door as Hunter sets Omega down. “Hard to grieve and focus, you know?”
He gives you a knowing smile and a grateful pat on the shoulder before turning back towards the living room, leaving you to go into your bedroom alone.
Echo is sitting on your bed where you’ve left him, but there’s a few things moved from where you’ve left them. An old necklace he got for you on a mission has been pulled from your jewelry box, the perfume you used to wear is on your nightstand. He’s currently pouring over your datapad, and when you sit next to him you see he’s looking at the photogallery.
“Do you remember this?” You ask, pointing to the one he’s currently looking at. You’re both clearly drunk and walking around one of the fairs Coruscant would host in the square. Echo has one arm wrapped in your hair and another dropping low down the skirt of your dress, and you’re both beaming like lovesick children.
“I think about it nearly every day.” He swipes to the next one, he’s at a gala for your university, his ARC trooper armor looking freshly scrubbed while you accept an award. The next, you’re both laying in civvies, watching a flick on the holonet together.
“I am not going to beg for a spot in your life. You have to know you deserve me.” You move the datapad off of his lap and stand up, wedging your body between his knees. “But I am yours, body and soul. I’ve lost you once, but I can’t do it again.” You press a kiss to his forehead, thumbs sweetly caressing the side of his face before you turn to the small chest of drawers in your room. You rifle through them quickly before finding your prize, and hand him the bundles of fabric.
“Are these my blacks?”
“Now they’re my pajamas,” you smile, pulling your dress off over your head and pretending to ignore the way his eyes rake over your body before pulling on a thin shirt, “figured I could share. Let’s go to bed.”
*
You wake up to the movement in your bed when Echo rises, and you let yourself bask in the bliss of the reality you’ve created. Watching through curtained lashes, you watch as he stretches his arms up high overhead, muscles straining taught against his back. You want to reach out and pull him back to bed, want to press yourself against his body, but you don’t. He moves quietly as he clicks his armor together, a task you used to do easily and with the training of a well practiced soldier. You slept together last night, but you didn’t sleep together. You still aren’t sure where you stand, and your chrono is ticking internally. He’s only here for two more days.
“Good morning,” he murmurs when he catches you starring, and you smile back at him, a real and raw one.
“Mornin’” sleep is still dripping from your voice while you stand and make your way to the kitchen as Echo follows. The rest of the squad is idling in the kitchen, having figured out your caf pot. You offer them a small wave and don’t miss the way Tech’s eyebrows climb high on his forehead at the two of you.
“We’ve got a busy day today, Cid has evidently presented us with a number of small jobs here and in Mos Espa. I’ve charted a day that puts us at the most efficient, while also avoiding the most direct sunlight.”
“Thanks, Tech,” Hunter claps his brother on the shoulder before moving over to you. “Do you think you could keep an eye on Omega? I hate to bring her on missions if I don’t have to.”
The pit in your stomach grows, “Is it dangerous?”
“Nah,” it’s Echo’s turn now, and you notice the smile at your worry. “Hunter’s right though, just better to be safe than sorry.”
You shrug, “sure! Just got some errands to run. I’ll let her sleep in as much as I can.”
Hunter gives you a grateful shoulder squeeze and you send the squad your wishes. You reach for Echo’s hand as your fingers dance around one another. “Come back please.”
“Of course.”
Omega doesn’t rise for a while, which gives you time to warm up some bread and jams and run to the market near your house for a jug of blue milk. You suspect the girl hasn’t had a real home cooked meal in her life, and you’re eager to provide the experience for her. Something pulls hard in your gut, the domesticity of the actions, caring for this little girl and waking up with Echo, that makes you want to cry. This is, essentially, everything you’ve dreamt of for so long, but maker at what cost. You know Echo is hurting, it’s written clear across his face whenever he looks at you, and you can’t imagine the extent of what he’s suffered. You want this, you want him and you want this little life, but the cost it required makes you feel sick.
Omega wakes up not long after breakfast is done, and she rubs her eyes as she walks into the kitchen. “Where is everyone?”
“They left for the mission, but you’re in very good hands, I promise.” You smile, leading her to the table. She beams up at you and at the food you settle onto her plate. “Have you ever had these before?”
“No, Kaminoan food is kinda weird, and we normally just eat snacks and ration bars on the ship.” She cuts into the bread cautiously, and takes her first bite. The grin that overtakes her face is contagious, and she whips her head to you. “This is amazing!”
You come up and ruffle her hair, “I’ll make it for you whenever you like.”
“Thank you.” Her words are so kind, so genuine, that it sends a pang to your chest.
“How long have you been with the batch?”
“I dunno, it’s hard to say. I don’t like counting, I feel like it’ll jinx it.” She shrugs, “but definitely a while. They rescued me. We’re a family now.”
“You certainly are.”
She continues to pick at the food while you go into your quarters to get ready, pulling on clothes and tying your hair back. Mos Eisley isn’t exactly the ideal place for children, but you suspect she’s seen worse. Besides, you’ve got credits burning a hole in your pocket and an insatiable desire to mother this child. You come back out to her cleaning her dish and smile, “How do you feel about a day on the town?”
“Really! We don’t have to just stay here?”
“Something tells me you can handle yourself.”
She beams at being recognized, “You bet! Let me get my bow.”
The market is full of life as usual, and Omega is happily bouncing between stalls, picking up anything and everything that isn’t nailed down. You’re happy to oblige her, and you've got a bag full of dolls, snacks, a shawl, and some drawing supplies. She’s walking a few paces ahead of you, blonde hair bobbing in the sun, and she frequently turns around to make sure you’re close by. It’s rather endearing.
“You know, I used to know another blonde Kaminoan.”
“Is it Captain Rex?”
You’re surprised she knows the name, and you blink a few times. “Have you met him?”
“Yeah, he came by the cantina on Ord Mantell,” she slows her pace to walk next to you, “he’s old.”
“Yeah he is,” you laugh, thinking fondly of the captain who looked out for you. “He’s an old friend too.”
“Did you know him on Coruscant?”
“I did. He was Echo’s captain in his old squad.”
“Oh yeah, I think he mentioned that. Did you meet him when you and Echo got in love?”
There’s a scuff as you stumble over your feet and you look down at her. “What do you mean by that?”
She shrugs, “I thought you guys were in love. At least, that’s what Echo says. You’re the girl from Coruscant, I saw the holopicture of you two in the hallway.”
Shoot. “I mean, we definitely were-”
“Because I heard Echo tell Hunter he loved you back on the ship not that long ago. They thought I was sleeping, but I wasn’t, and I heard him say he felt sad ‘cause he still loved you. At least, I think it was you. He said she was a student at a fancy school, and she was so smart, so it seems like you. Which is good because now we’re all together again, so Echo won’t be sad, because you love him too, and you’re together!”
“Omega…”
“Besides, I like you, and Echo is nice and gives really good hugs. And I think you’d be perfect together.”
“I wish it was that simple kid,” you lean down to ruffle her hair. “Let’s pick out something good for dinner.”
*
Cooking with Omega is fun, there’s something precious in the way she washes the leafy greens and vegetables while you chop beside her. The holo is on in the background, creating a warm hum of noise that keeps you both company. She’s chatty, eager to tell you about their adventures. You’re pleased to hear that Rex is alive and well, and that they’ve been helping rescue other clones. She talks about their ship, her room they’ve made for her. It’s so endearing, the way she talks about her family. You feel so drawn to it, to her. You want so badly to share in this with Echo. To have him here by your side. There’s a sigh that escapes your chest, of both relief and pain, and for the first since you’ve gotten him back you let yourself completely melt into the ache in your heart of missing him, of having him back. You don’t notice you’re crying until Omega comes up to your side.
“You must’ve really missed him.”
“Yeah Meg, I really did.”
“What was he like when you first met him?”
“He was so confident, but so strict with the rules.”
She scoffs endearingly, “Don’t worry, he’s still like that.”
“He was so clean cut, but so handsome. Always so worried, wanted to be so polite,” you lean down to whisper to her, “One time, when he first started staying at my apartment-”
“At least give me a chance to defend myself, come on!” Echo shouts as he enters the apartment, the rest of the batch in tow. He removes his helmet and he’s smiling, the lasting effects of a blush on his cheeks. The rest of the men follow noisly in, and are quick to remove boots and blasters at the door and start bustling around the kitchen to help finish dinner. You sidle up next to Echo as he finishes putting the meat in the small leafy cups, and the tips of your fingers ghost around his waist for just a moment. He freezes, then melts into your touch almost immediately, letting your hands hang around his midriff.
“Hi,” he murmurs, low enough that even Hunter doesn’t hear, filling Omega in on their mission.
“Was worried about you, Tatooine’s no good.”
“Funny, I was gonna say the same thing to you.”
You look up at him with a smirk and remove your hands as you help him distribute plates to the batch. “You got any better suggestions?”
It’s so quiet you nearly miss it, and you suppose he had hoped you would, but still, it carries over to where you stand near Wrecker. “I have a few suggestions.”
It’s not until later that night that you get Echo alone again, when you slip out of the fresher and notice him perched up on your bed in his blacks. He stiffens when you enter the room, conveniently dressed in nothing more than his blacks tops, hanging loosely off your body.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed you’d want me back in here.”
You shake your head and slip into bed beside him. “You assumed correctly.”
He grins at you before setting your datapad now. You’re still so attuned to him, you notice the rigid movements in his hips and torso as he twists to set it down, and your hands are on him almost instinctively.
“Where does it hurt?”
“It’s nothing, just chronic stuff, nothing you need to worry about.”
“Even though you tried to fire me,” you murmur as you coax him to his back and encourage him to flip on his stomach, “I’d argue it is my job to worry about.” You pull yourself up and straddle his back, perching yourself right above his hips. Your hands are quickly underneath his shirt, rubbing soothing circles along his back and shoulders, wrapping down his biceps. You pause for a moment at the spot where the prosthesis begins, and he offers a muffled sound of encouragement when you begin to rub small, gentle circles along the meeting point. Cautiously, you work your hand further south, and the sound of bliss that leaves his mouth when you find the spot where flesh meets metal in the middle of his thighs is all the encouragement you need to keep going.
“You know, the heat here helps the pain.” He tosses over his shoulder, turning his head and propping himself up on his arms to look at you.
“Maybe you should just stay then, you know. For health reasons.”
“Oh? Would you like that?”
You say nothing, but you can see him pick up the smile, the twinkle in your eye. Instead you roll off of his back and lay down beside him, turning your head to face him. “Omega told me something funny today.”
“Oh yeah? I can’t even imagine.”
“She told me you’ve been telling stories about a girl you left on Coruscant.”
“Really? Didn’t know she’s been hearing all that. What else did she say about this girl?” Even in the low light of your darkened room you can see him starting to blush.
“She said she was a student at a fancy school, and that you thought she was smarter than you.”
“I remember saying so smart, but, sure, she’s smarter than me.” His fingertips float along your thigh, up your body. He’s so cautious, but getting bolder by the second.
“She told me you still loved her.”
His hand freezes at its spot on your waist, moving from a light touch to a grip, as if he’s afraid this is it. This is the moment you’re gone forever.
“I think she was probably hurt at first, because she missed you and she mourned you. But she could never stay mad at you. She thinks your family is cute.” Your hand comes up to rest on his cheek, pulling him in close to you. “I think she still loves you too.”
There’s a beat where you hear him exhale, it’s shaky and soft, and his words flow quickly afterwards. “Mesh’la, I thought of you everyday. I couldn’t face you, not after what I’d been turned into, after I let you down.”
“Don’t.” Your forehead is against his now, breathing him in close, “Don’t start with that.”
And then you kiss him and it feels like coming home. Like a warm glass of bantha milk and a cookie set aside just for you, or a warm towel after a cold shower. It feels like being wrapped in a blanket of adoration, like this is all you’re meant to be doing forever. In fact, you’re pretty sure you could actually die here as his tongue grazes your bottom lip, and you absolutely blossom into the touch. You feel like the lovesick first year you were when you met Echo in the first place, when the only thing that mattered was passing exams and spending all of Echo’s shore leave tangled in your sheets.
He pulls back too soon for your liking, though you know in reality you’ve been wrapped up in each other for maker knows how long. There’s a pitiful little whimper that breaks past your lips when he does, and it makes you blush.
“Don’t disappear like that again.” You whisper, and he pulls you into this chest and presses a long kiss to your hairline.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
*
The next morning is, of course, full of goodbyes, and the walk to their docking bay has you fighting tears. You and Echo stayed up all night wrapped up in one another, whispering confessions and plans for the future like you were both nothing more than two lovesick shinies again. You had both decided that you would stay on Tatooine, stay in your life. In turn, the batch planned on paying off their debt to Cid and set up base on Tatooine. Tech had agreed that, logistically, Tatooine made the most sense for those evading the empire, and Wrecker was happy to have the option of sleeping in an actual home. You had given Omega and the batch rations and well wishes, and you stood outside the ramp of the Marauder, hands clasped behind your back as you looked up at Echo.
“Come back soon?”
He moved to catch your lips in a kiss, and you reveled in the slight taste of caf on his mouth from the morning, “Wouldn’t dream of staying away.” He broke away a moment later and moved to stand on the ramp. You waved goodbye as it began to life and he grinned. “And stop calling me your ex!”
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Left Behind | Newt
Hiii!! First post after a year and a half of inactivity!! Im finally going to start writing again becuz my bf has inspired me to start sharing my work again!! This is a very old one shot and I barely touched it b4 actually posting it because I need something to get my account bumpin again!! Anyways I hope you enjoy, hopefully I’ll post more soon :)
𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
Inspired by Wait by the River, by Lord Huron!
Warnings: Angst, terribly written (written a year ago and just now posting!) also long asf.
Words: 1,634
•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*
People say time heals. But to you, time was the opposite of what you wanted. The more time passed, the more you missed Newt. The longer you spent apart from him, the more your heart ached, and burned.
He healed you, and without him- time is nothing but an aggravating evil.
Your heart tore in two pieces the day he left the Glade, choosing your brother over Newt. You were scared to leave, all you knew was the Glade. You remember the look of defeat on Newt’s face, how he welled up with tears as you gave him one last goodbye. How tight he held you before he was hurried by Thomas. You wished he never let go, you wished he never left you.
You were afraid, terrified even, but as you watched the love of your life leave the only home you’ve ever known you broke. Shattering like a mirror - splitting your ideals from reality. To follow him, you’d risk your life to do it.
Gally was watching you closely, you knew it. His eyes never left you when the blonde left you behind, he had a firm grip on your shoulder for comfort. You knew it was to also keep you within the Glade.
It was minutes later, your shoulder ripped from Gally’s hold, throwing yourself into the maze. Shouts of protest bubbled from the remaining boys in the Glade. Gally’s shout was the loudest, his own footsteps following behind you.
You weren’t worried about him catching you, as you had always been faster than him. You didn’t know the maze, for fucks sake you were a gardener with Newt, but you had seen the map. Minho was one of your closest friends, he shared everything with you. You had helped Minho study the map with Thomas, so you remembered generally where you were supposed to go.
The hard part was trying to fight the feeling that you were losing control of your own body. Your fingers had grown numb and your eyesight had fallen hazy. The further you ran down the path of the Maze, the less yourself you felt. You felt angry, angry that Newt would truly leave without you, angry with Thomas for cutting your goodbye so short. You couldn’t explain it, but you were angry with the world.
You had lost Gally minutes ago, you didn’t care. You needed to reach the group.
When you reached the Griever Hole you stopped in your tracks, and everything went black.
—
There you were again, you were in a new place, your surroundings electronic and gray. As the hazy feeling in your body faded you saw in front of you were your friends, Newt, Thomas, Minho- but something was wrong. Chuck, on the floor, bleeding.
That’s when you felt it, a flame of pain erupted in your chest. Looking down to your hand you realized you had something in your hand. A gun. You thought.
No, no, no, no-
You looked down to where the pain was in your chest, seeing a large sharp pole sticking what felt like, straight through your heart. You tried to gasp, as time seemed to pick up its pace, two bodies rushed to you. One catching you before you fell to the ground.
The two bodies were Newt and Minho, it seemed as though chaos was erupting around them and you. Light poured into the room, you could only hear Newt’s desperate cries.
“Please (Y/N) stay with me-” salty tears trailed down the blonde's face as he held you closely to his own body. Newts free hand grazed your dirt stained and sweaty face. Your skin was so pale, it made him sick. Minho stood above him, his face filled with fear. He was yelling at someone across the room, his angry words too distant to understand.
The soft touch of Newt’s hands sent you into a flurry of unexplainable emotions. You felt like you couldn’t breathe when he was holding you, although - the spear sticking out of your chest probably had something to do with that.
“I..” you tried your best to gasp out a few words, sorrow coating your tone, “I’m.. I’m so.. So sorry.” Tears welled up in your lashes, you couldn’t see anymore. Your vision was failing.
“(Y/N) please-” Newt’s voice echoed through your once again hazy mind, you could tell he was crying; his voice raspy, “Please don’t leave me, I.. I love you please baby.”
His heart wrenching pleas were the last thing you heard as you faded into nothingness once again.
–
Months passed without Newt, unsure if he was even alive. You and Gally had been saved by Lawrence and his group. Only being picked up moments after Newt had been snatched up by WCKD. It was scary, leaving the only home you’ve ever known, knowing you killed the sweetest boy you’ve ever met, Chuck.
After telling Gally how you weren’t even conscious when it happened; he tried to convince you it was WCKD who was controlling you. And although you knew this was true, you couldn’t help but feel as though it was you the whole time. You remember feeling angry before, but you never wanted to kill anyone.
And now here you were, perched on the large windowsill in Lawrence’s office, gazing out into the Scorch as your brother patrolled the outside of the Last City.
You were close with Lawrence, he grew to be like a father figure over you and Gally. You had confided with him about Newt and your friends in the Glade, and he understood. Lawrence himself lost a lot of friends, especially since he was half cranked-out.
Gally had been a big support system for you as well, he had comforted you through the nights you had cried yourself into exhaustion, missing the one person who made you feel whole.
You missed the warm summer nights in the Glade you spent with Newt, under the starry sky - wrapped up in his arms. He held you so tight, like he never wanted to let go - but he did.
“Y/N,” Lawrence’s raspy voice startled you from your thoughts, looking to the older man you noticed he was holding an orchid gazing at you quizzically, “Where did you go?”
You pulled your legs up to your chest, glancing out the window once more as you hummed in response, “Oh you know, wonderland.” You scoffed slightly at your own words, turning back to Lawrence.
Lawrence chuckled in response, his focus shifting back to the roses he was watering.
You sighed, your head resting on the window pane next to you. Closing your eyes tiredly - before you could pass out you heard commotion in the hallway. You sighed frustratedly, tucking yourself further behind the plants that guarded the windowsill. Maybe it was Gally finally coming back from patrol, you didn’t care though as you really just wanted to get some shut eye.
The door of Lawrence’s office flew open, causing your own eyes to snap open. You were hidden far enough in the window that you couldn’t make out who it was that had barged in so rudley.
“Gally- I’m glad to see you made it back, Jasper told me what happened,” the Crank man hummed his words.
“It was a slaughter,” The gruff voice of your brother seemed to cut through the eerie environment of Lawrence’s office, “there was nothing we could do against those guns.” Your heart sunk, you didn’t want to hear anymore - tuning out Lawrence’s response you played with your hands. Ignoring the aching feeling of sorrow in your chest, more people dead in an already deserted world.
Lawrences sudden sternness of voice caught your attention, causing you to tune into the conversation once more, “Now. Who are these people? Why are they here?”
Gally brought someone to Lawrence?
There was a tense pause of silence, and you held your breath, awaiting the unknown person to speak.
“We need to get into WCKD.”
The familiar voice sent you into a spiral of emotions, your body freezing up and going numb, was it really Thomas? You made a move to stand as Thomas continued speaking - “Gally said you can get us through the walls.” Your heart stopped, it really was him, his voice was more serious than it was back in the Glade, maybe even a bit fearful.
You froze before moving into sight of the others. You were preparing for the worse, what if Newt wasn’t with him? What if… You didn’t even want to think about it - your eyes welled up with tears as you hesitantly moved from behind the wall of plants.
You froze, looking to where the familiar group stood in front of you - each of their eyes now on you. Every expression showed surprise, but you didn’t care about that - your own eyes meeting the one person you missed so dearly. Newt.
You gasped - the tears that threatened to fall earlier now trailing down your face.
The blonde boy lurched forward, his arms around your frame immediately, crushing you with a force you didn’t know he had. His own shoulders seemed to shake - he was crying too.
You broke a sob as your arms wrapped weakly around his waist. You never expected to see him again, you thought he was gone.
“Newt- I’m so sorry,” your sobs broke through his chest as your arms pulled him closer to your body.
He shushed you immediately “No (Y/N), I shouldn’t have ever left you,” his own cries broke his composure- pulling you closer than ever.
Your head shook, apologizing over and over again while Newts lips kissed the top of your head, whispering how much he loved you.
This time, he truly would never leave you behind.
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ZAYN Signs With Mercury Records Ahead of New Music
The singer, who was previously signed to RCA Records, has a new single coming "very soon this summer."
ZAYN has signed a new record deal with Mercury Records, Billboard can confirm. Along with the news, the singer wiped his social media yesterday and has launched a new pre-save link and teaser in preparation for his Mercury Records debut single, which is said by the label to be arriving “very soon this summer.”
A former member of One Direction and a chart topper in his own right, ZAYN was previously signed to RCA Records. Sources close to the singer told Billboard that the new music ZAYN is making marks a major departure from the sound that defined his previous hits like “PILLOWTALK” and “I Don’t Wanna Live Forever.”
Label president Tyler Arnold says of the deal, “As soon as ZAYN and I met, I knew we had to work together. I was blown away by the new music, but just as impressed by his vision, drive and spirit. We’re honored he and his team have joined us at Mercury Records. We’ve got an incredible opportunity to tell the next chapter of his story together.”
Mercury Records was relaunched in April 2022 as a U.S. imprint of Republic Records, helmed by Arnold and Ben Adelson as president and general manager, respectively. Mercury’s roster includes Post Malone, whom Arnold signed to Republic in 2015, and James Bay, signed by Adelson in 2014. Other signees at Mercury’s launch included Stephen Sanchez, Chelsea Cutler, Jeremy Zucker, Lord Huron, Noah Kahan, BoyWithUke, Ka$hdami, Lyn Lapid and Camylio.
Mercury Records also acts as the hub for Republic’s partnerships with Big Loud Records, home to Morgan Wallen, and Imperial Music, the independent distributor that released Bo Burnham‘s Inside (The Songs).
As a solo artist, ZAYN has released three records: Mind of Mine (2016), Icarus Falls (2018), and Nobody is Listening (2021). They peaked at No. 1, No. 61 and No. 44 on the Billboard 200 chart, respectively. He has also placed six songs in the top 50 on the Pop Airplay chart, including two in the top 10. “PILLOWTALK” peaked at No. 1, and “I Don’t Wanna Live Forever” reached No. 2 on the chart. The two songs also reached those same chart positions on Billboard’s Hot 100 chart as well.
You can pre-save ZAYN’s upcoming single here.
VIA BILLBOARD
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THERE'S A MAP FINALLY LOL (EXPLODES)
Hey, it's Cas! In my last post about mapmaking, I wrote that the next time I posted about it, I hoped it'd be because my map was finished. Well, guess what? I FINISHED IT! It only took me, like... uh... half a year to get around to it. Well, here it is! Two versions: one plain, one labeled.
It's such a relief to have this finished. Finally, after a thousand years of just thinking about it, I have something resembling a visual resource! Yay! That said, it's not perfect, and definitely more of an approximation than anything. There are touch-ups to be made, many touch-ups, but I might just save that for an end-of-year progress check. For now, it's good enough!
The lack of labels has nothing to do with minimalism and everything to do with the fact that I really hate naming things. V-shaped icons point to major settlements. Dot icons mark settlements that are smaller, but subject to show up often for whatever reason. Those ones in particular I'm sure will get edited or shifted around over time.
Now, to meticulously explore each and every region!
I'll work from top to bottom!
Surprise, I'm starting with the name! I find myself drawn to names that sound simple but have lots of interesting connotations. In this case, I'd been searching for a name that captured the feeling of a far off, enigmatic place, something vast and always just beyond reach. Then, while I was searching, and in a manner not unlike that one Overwatch meme, the word "Hinterlands" played in the Lord Huron song I was listening to and I had my HOLY SHIT moment. There's no way a name this whimsical hasn't already been snagged by some cartoon or something, but I can live with that.
As an aside, if I were to pick just one piece of media that encapsulated what I'm going for with this project, it'd be the album Strange Trails by Lord Huron. Of all my many inspirations, it's the one that's had the most profound impact. So the name also works as a homage!
Starting off spooky with our first region, the Old Waythrough. It's a place most people don't like to talk or even think about, but it's always there, looming just under the surface. It has remarkably little presence even in local folklore, and what little there is has been cut into pieces and scattered about through generations of oral storytelling. That said, there are a couple surviving records of Parthans attempting flyovers, eager to prove their courage. None of them get very far, but interestingly, even across the centuries, their recounts have all been similar, describing endless, desolate lands that are empty save for random objects and footprints in the snow.
One famous story, and the tale behind the region's common name, recounts the miraculous journey of the first partha who made contact with the mainland using the Waythrough as a guide. If true, this partha is the only known creature to have crossed the Waythrough in its entirety—and in doing so, gave the fasa who saw them quite a scare!
Our next region is Parthesa, or the parthan homelands! Yeah, get ready for some confusing naming conventions. I'll try to break it down:
The species itself, singular and plural, is known as "partha". Its descriptive form is "parthan".
Partha born on Parthesa, as well as any outsider accepted into their flocks, are known as "Parthans" with a capital P.
All partha born on Parthesa are also called skyborn, while their mainland cousins are called wildborn.
It's a bit much, but I promise, so are they. Parthesa itself is frequently described as a paradise, mostly for the fact that there seems to be a strange lack of spirit activity on the islands themselves. Is that the full story, though? Who knows — Parthans aren't exactly scrambling to brag about how UNbetter-than-everyone-else they and their homeland are. On that note, did Parthans name themselves after their homeland, or did they name their homelands after themselves? Mysteries upon mysteries...
Famously, the islands are beautiful — flower fields, waterfalls, seaside cliffs, mountains and valleys to dip and dive through, and that wonderful ocean breeze! Plus, as long as you've got parthan feather insulation and love storms, the weather's great! Infamously, getting to Parthesa is incredibly dangerous without a Parthan guide, something that's hard to come by. Without one, travelers don't have a great track record of being seen again.
On the opposite side of the Waythrough, we've got the fasan homelands! This dashing, idyllic little landscape is defined by mountains, rivers, lakes, colorful flower fields, and forests of towering boreal trees. Also, ignore that green mountain I forgot to recolor.
Fasa like to incorporate waterways into their architecture in interesting ways, building settlements that trace the length of rivers. Despite their homeland's cutesy appearance, their deep forests harbor all sorts of dangers. Uniquely, this danger doesn't just concern spirits, but entire swathes of dangerous, predatory animals. Still, as long as you take the proper safety precautions, it's a lovely place to live. Their main city can be found by following the paths of the rivers into the mountains. Their harbor town is much newer but has quickly become prosperous!
Okay, you see this gigantic piece of land with almost zero markers in it? This one's my sandbox. Why does nobody seem to want to live here? Well, they tried. They really tried, judging by all the bizarre artifacts poking out of the ground everywhere. The place is a mass graveyard, with evidence of ancient raswa, fasa, and who knows what else engaged in constant territory spats going back centuries. However, these battles seemed to have stopped very suddenly. It's assumed that the appearance of spirits was the last straw that pushed people back into their homelands, finally convincing them the place was just not worth it, something that countless deaths couldn't accomplish. But it's been thousands of years, and people are making tentative attempts to settle again, this time in unity—and hey, so far so good! The few settlements that exist here are characterized by the diversity of their people.
If you follow the trails, you're sure to come across fellow travelers, traders, and the like, but the vast majority of the land is void of people. You could walk for weeks or longer and not come across a single soul! There's a lot to discover, but it's a bit lonely...
Down south, you'll find the Underbelly! The Underbelly is the common name given to this region of wetland and swamp. It's one of the deadliest—and in many people's opinions, the grossest—places in the Hinterlands. Miraculously, there are a hardy people who've managed to make a living in the deep swamp, their treehouse cities literal lights in the darkness. They trade with and have close relations to raswa!
Nearly done! Now we've come to the raswan homelands. Not to be an edgelord, but this region is one defined by utter darkness. Well, okay, it's supposed to be a little edgy, but that part of it comes second. On the left half sleeps an incredibly dense roofed forest, such that light rarely grazes the forest floor. Mushrooms spawn like wildfire, and only those with the grace of raswa are going to have much luck navigating it. On the other side of the mountains lies the raswan desert, a place where sandblood raswans lead nomadic lifestyles. It's also a place many go to get in touch with their spirituality. Sandblood raswa wander the depths of the desert, traveling by night, when sand in the air lights up like stars. With their unique skin colors and plain dark clothes, raswa disguise themselves as part of the night sky to avoid deadly desert spirits. The spirits are a pain in the forests, too—raswa have devised safe pathways for travelers, but all they can really do is hand you a charm and beg you not to stray. Due to the regions' conditions, the settlements here remain mostly raswa, save for their newer harbor town.
We're onto the last area! This island is in a weird spot, and it's kind of just weird in general, so I saved it for last. It's even weird in the formatting of this blog post! What is wrong with you, fae homelands? This island was created very recently by one of the gods, although they are all credited for it. "Homelands" is a strange word for fae to use, though, because most fae do not come from this land at all. In fact, there are barely any trees here! In any case, This island is what connects all people, encouraging unity in times of despair. From edge to edge, the place is a gigantic market space, full to bursting with different kinds of people, vivid colors, and overwhelming sounds and smells.
And that's that! I'll be real, I had way more fun just writing all that than I did even making the map, so I hope that even 1 person skimmed it and got something out of it. But if not, this'll be a good resource for me, too, so, I guess it's win-win.
I'm not really sure what's next for me! I kinda want to work on more visual development for the fauna, spirits, and gods, but the other, realer, and more boring side of me thinks I should probably figure out the extremely basic information like fasan & raswan government styles first. Cause, you know, the fundamental structure of their society is kind of important...
I've made progress in other areas as well, so I may make a separate post for that! But for now I need a short break. Hope you enjoyed. Yay!
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How Would Eternity Do? - Malleus
Author's Notes: Back at it with the Twisted Wonderland fics. I suppose I'm a little hopeless at this point. This one was written while I was listening to Lord Huron's song "Meet Me in the Woods." I did use the English nickname for Malleus "Hornton" rather than the Japanese one. Reader is gender-neutral as per usual.
Type: Romantic/fluff
Word count: 1477
I smiled quietly to myself as I set out into the dark trees that surrounded Ramshackle dorm. I’d seen the faint green lights that resembled fireflies and now led me down an old path through the window.
Truthfully, it probably looked like a scene out of a horror movie. A lone person traipsing through dead trees and a decrepit graveyard, following some strange lime green lights into the darkness that held…. Well, in a horror movie it would hold unimaginable horrors, but for me it just held a close friend.
Despite my surroundings I was perfectly comfortable, happy even, as I let the lights guide me down the unfamiliar path because I knew what these lights meant. They always signaled Malleus’s arrival.
Well, technically they signaled my friend, Hornton’s, arrival. But I had learned that ‘Hornton’ was, in fact, Malleus quite some time ago.
It had been months ago when I’d been walking to class with Ace and Deuce. Ace had pulled me to a halt and pointed out Hornton just before whispering in my ear, “That’s Malleus. He’s one of the top mages and the Prince of Thorn Valley.”
My eyes had widened at Ace’s hissed words but not for the reason he thought. Ace had only nodded, with Deuce mirroring the motion, “Scary looking guy ain’t he?”
I’d opted to ignore my companion's comment, instead thinking about how at long last I knew why my night-time visitor always seemed kind of lonely.
I hadn’t told Malleus that I knew his identity though. He seemed happy thinking that I didn't have a clue who he was. Judging from the rumors abounding in the school he probably thought I’d be terrified if I knew he was the one and only Malleus Draconia.
Even if he had told me his name when we’d first met I wouldn’t have been afraid of him though. After all, I hadn’t the foggiest an idea of just who Malleus Draconia was up until recently.
Sebek had been quite generous with his education of the great and powerful Lord Malleus while my other classmates had been quite generous with their warnings regarding Malleus. Had I not known better I would’ve thought they were talking about two entirely different people.
Luckily for Malleus, I’d received another education regarding his personality. I’d gotten to know the man himself and found him to be quite charming. Malleus was dorky, elegant, unimaginably powerful, and unimaginably petty. He was so far behind the times I feared there was no hope for him and he was a constant tease.
In short, he was a perfectly normal but perfectly marvelous young man that had a penchant for presenting himself as terrifying when he was, in fact, just lonely and rather awkward.
It wasn’t that I didn’t understand why others viewed him as terrifying. He was beyond powerful and that, paired with his pettiness, could be quite scary if one didn’t realize how affectionate and ridiculous he could be.
As I progressed through the woods the number of green lights only seemed to grow alongside my confusion. Usually Malleus would simply show up on the porch or in the front yard, perusing the gargoyles and grotesques around Ramshackle.
I didn’t know if I had ever spoken to him anywhere other than my front, side, or back yard. We certainly never left the view of the house. In fact, we usually never left the shadow of the Ramshackle.
The fact he had me traipsing through the woods was both confusing and a little exciting since it probably meant he had something to show me.
And sure enough I found the man himself, standing in the middle of a clearing alone. The only light was that of the moon and his strange dancing lights that so resembled fireflies.
He twisted, a fond smile gracing his features as those glowing green eyes found my form in the darkness. “Child of man,” He reached out, beckoning me closer with a single twitch of his long fingers.
I smiled and walked towards him, abandoning the shadows of the trees to meet him in the surprisingly bright clearing. I’d never seen so many of his little lights in one place before. It made me wonder what they were.
I reached out, poking one slightly which only caused to flit away and him to chuckle. I glanced, looking at the swirling lights, “What are these things anyway?”
He let out a quiet hum as he looked around the small lights that surrounded us, mirroring my actions, “I suppose your people would think of them as ‘faerie lights’ or perhaps ‘will-o-the-wisps.’” He met my eyes and smiled, a wicked sort of grin, “I believe your people also think they lead people astray. Were you not concerned, following their lead?”
I snorted at his not so subtle amusement, “Hardly. They were just going to lead me directly to you.”
His grin turned almost smug as he looked down at me and I felt myself starting to grin back up at him. I glanced around the clearing, spreading my arms to gesture to the odd little area, “So is this what you wanted to show me?”
His eyes went comically wide at my question and he looked around in an almost childlike manner before looking back at me, “What I wanted to show you…?”
I only smiled at his curious sounding tone before I started to explain, “Well, you didn’t show up in the front yard like you usually would and instead used your lights to lead me all the way out here. I just figured you wanted to show this place to me.”
He blinked silently at me before chuckling slightly and shaking his head, “I see…. No, this is just a place I like to go to… get away.
He tilted his head in an oddly catlike manner before continuing, “I suppose a small part of me might have wanted you to know its location so that you could use it should you wish.”
I nodded, turning in place as I looked around. It was sort of odd. A random clearing in the middle of the woods that had a tiny old dirt path leading to it.
It made me wonder what this place was supposed to be. There was nothing really here and it was quite obvious that it hadn’t been used for anything for a long time. Malleus had probably been the only person who’d been coming here at all.
“It would be a nice place to go when you’re lonely,” I mused aloud, thinking about how quiet it was here. Peaceful really.
“Do you get lonely often?” Malleus’s quiet question drew me out of my thoughts, causing me to turn and look at him. Before I could respond he continued, “You are often with our friends so I’d always thought….”
He trailed off, a strange expression on his face that made me sigh slightly, “You can be lonely even when you’re surrounded sometimes, Hornton.”
His gaze met mine mine, understanding flickering deep within his almost fluorescent lime green eyes, “Do you feel lonely when you are with me?”
His question caught me off guard. At first my eyes widened and then I frowned as I actually had to think about his question.
Truthfully speaking, I‘d never been lonely when I’d been with Malleus. But it was always just the two of us. The loneliness I’d been speaking of was that which occurs when you are in a group or crowd but somehow feel all alone.
To be fair, I didn’t know that I would feel lonely even if I were in such a crowd alongside Malleus though. He always seemed to place most, if not all of his attention on me. Even when he was talking about how fascinating a specific gargoyle was he still focused on me. After all, he always seemed to know when my mind wandered. Although that could just be him pouting because he didn’t think I was paying attention….
“No… I don’t think I have ever been lonely around you Hornton,” I smiled as I met his gaze.
A smug grin crossed his face and he leaned forward, sweeping into a sort of bow till his eyes were at almost the same level as mine, “Then you could always come to me when you are feeling lonely. I will be certain to comfort you.”
I found myself grinning at his words, but I shook my head, “I’m not going to waste your time like that Hornton. There is no way you have enough time to always keep me company when I’m feeling down. I mean really, do you realize how long that would take?”
His smile only spread, causing his eyes to crinkle slightly as a glimmer of mischievousness flashed through them, “How would eternity do?”
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tailspin pt two (take me back, to the night we met)
pt one | pt two | pt three | pt four | masterlist | sequel
pairing- jake 'hangman' seresin x female bartender!reader (no use of y/n)
synopsis-
“When was the last time you went on a date? Better yet, when was the last time you got laid?”
Somewhere to your left Hangman chokes on his beer. You debate purposefully choking on a lime, so Penny is forced to do the Heimlich on you and forget about Alex.
warnings- 18+ only, explicit cheating (once again this is not an oops didn't see his wedding band fic), piv sex, thigh riding, teasing/begging, belt as restraints, jake is fed up and has a dirty mouth, lil bit of rank kink, probably some praise kink and dumbification idk, men are generally shitty (not necessarily hangman but also definitely hangman if you think about the premise of this story)
length- around 8k words I think, I got carried away sorry
an- this is the second part of tailspin, vignettes of the beginning of the reader x hangman relationship. this is a flashback so not set in the same time span as the other three parts
chapter title credit to the night we met by lord huron
basically, my plan to write smut for rooster and end this hyperfixation with top gun that’s keeping me from focusing on flight school didn't work so here's 8k words of hangman stuff, can't get the characters from this damn movie out of my head
Before.
Take me back, to the night we met.
“Thank you, my dears.” Hangman is nearly beaming, gorgeous green eyes bright and crinkling at the edges.
Penny turns away, and he rakes his eyes down your body like he’s been in the desert for weeks, maybe months, and you’re the only source of water.
You raise your eyebrows at him, aiming to knock him down a few pegs with an unimpressed purse of your lips—though you’re not entirely sure you manage it while heat is igniting under your skin. When he pulls his gaze up to yours, he doesn’t bother looking embarrassed at being caught, throwing a wink your direction.
It almost makes you laugh, you expected nothing less than shameless from him, having carefully noted that self-important demeanor pouring off in waves the moment he walked into the Hard Deck. Maybe you’re being a little rash, but you’re pretty sure you know his type, a guy who knows how handsome he is and uses it to his utmost advantage, to distract everyone from all the flaws he spends so much time silently counting in himself. Even beautiful people tend to have glaringly obvious defense mechanisms.
The hunger in his eyes still strikes a match deep within you regardless. It's something you’d be embarrassed to admit out loud, but it hasn’t happened in a long time.
Then, like it was nothing, like he didn’t just eye fuck someone he met two minutes ago in a bar full of people, in their place of work no less, he takes his beers and saunters back to the pool table where his friends are waiting for him.
No one’s ass has a right to look that good in khaki. It’s cruel, really.
Hangman knows your eyes will be following him after that little display, and maybe he shouldn’t have been so obvious, but can you really blame him, if he wants a pretty girl’s attention on him?
The day he turns that down he’ll call Cyclone to ground him permanently, because clearly his life is over.
“Is he always like that?” You ask Penny when he’s safely out of earshot, desperately trying not to betray the heady effect those sculpted arms have on your brain.
“Ignore him,” Penny chuckles. “He’s always been a flirt, even worse before he got married.”
Married, you remind yourself with a quick glance at the band on his left hand.
“That’s not what I meant, he hardly even said anything,” you manage to say out loud, despite the flashes of him panting above you that are suddenly running through your mind.
You find yourself wondering how far the pink beginnings of his sunburn extends, if it goes all the way down his abs, if he he's hiding chest hair underneath that undershirt, or a little line of hair going down into his waistband, when Penny pulls you out of your daydream.
“Hangman doesn’t need words to flirt.”
•••
The flirt in question ends up coming to the Hard Deck more and more after work, falling back easily into old habits he thought he’d grown out of when he and Katelyn had Callie. He tells himself it’s because he needs a breather after fighting the urge to smack overconfident pilots he’s supposed to be teaching upside the head all day.
It’s not because he wants to feel your laugh permeating the air around him, and definitely not to watch your raised eyebrows and pursed lips fighting back a smirk when you put cocky Navy guys in their place.
“Magellan,” he hears one of the young pilots say to you as he walks in, chest puffing out, obviously proud to have the callsign of a famous explorer.
“Do they call you that because you’re shit at directions?” You ask dryly, eying his stature.
Hangman nods a vehement yes from behind the pilot, earning a small chuckle from you. Before Magellan can piece together what’s going on behind him, the blonde sits down in what is quickly becoming his favorite barstool, not missing the way your eyes break from the younger man to follow him.
“I’m here,” he announces instead of commenting on it, effectively cutting off your conversation with the other pilot. “What are your other two wishes?”
You attempt to make your laugh sound mocking and not genuine, but you don't know if you pull it off. He always makes you giggle like a high school girl, no matter how bad the line. You just pray your voice doesn’t sound nervous as you ask, “Has that ever actually worked for you?”
He smiles amicably at your thinly veiled insult. “Sue me, I’m a little rusty, been out of the game a long time.”
“The fact that you unironically call dating a game tells me you were probably never winning in the first place,” you roll your eyes, hoping he doesn't notice your retort barely making any sense. Hard to be on your A-game with him smirking at you like that.
“So, that’s not a game you were in the middle of when I got here?” He counters, chin tilting in the direction of Magellan’s now vacated barstool.
“Not a game I intend on actually playing.” You shrug. “He’s a little young for my taste.”
An imperceptible flash crosses his tanned features, and you’re dying to know what it means, but you turn to reach into the cooler for a beer before you can focus too hard on it.
By the time you’ve turned back to hand him the beer, it’s gone.
Hangman convinces himself it’s innocent, he simply enjoys hearing the laugh that falls from your lips when he says something particularly cheesy, that you treat him like everyone else that throws half-joking advances your way. The pit in his stomach remains unsettled, but he pointedly ignores it.
He can lie to himself all he wants, but he always catches your eyes lingering a beat too long on his hands around a pool cue, notices the way you steal glances at him, when you think he’s not paying attention.
If only you knew that he’s always paying attention to you, has been since the moment he got back to North Island. His skin tingles as his body stays attuned to you, knows wherever you are in the room even with his back turned.
He’s used to it, being admired, he knows what he looks like. There’s something different about your regard of him, though, like when you examine his hands you already know everything they’re capable of, and the things they would stutter with nervousness at.
It terrifies him, the way you seem to see straight through him.
•••
Sometimes, when his jokes have more barbed edges than usual and he’s looking for someone to go toe to toe with him, he turns to you for the banter. Sometimes, you go along with it. You work at the Hard Deck; you know how to handle his kind.
Sometimes, and somehow always when he needs it the most, you answer his quips with gentle words and understanding looks, as if you know what the bravado is really covering up for.
“My leg hasn’t stopped twitching all day,” Hangman admits after you’ve called him out for his bad mood, rolling his beer in his palms. He’s aware he’s probably warming it up, but he’s too antsy to be bothered with ruining his drink. “I don’t know what to do when I feel like this, what it means. It’s like I’m—”
He cuts himself off, staring at his bottle like the label might have the words for him.
“Restless,” you supply. “Like an itch under your skin.”
“Yes,” he breathes out, so quiet if your attention wasn’t already centered on him you might not have heard.
There’s a long silence before he speaks again, but when he does it all comes out in a rush. “Sometimes I feel trapped by my life. I know that sounds childish, but it makes my heart race, and my leg won’t stop shaking, my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and I can never figure out why.”
“Maybe you’re scared,” you suggest, softly, like you think he might be mad at you. Some people would cackle at the very idea, Hangman, scared?
But it’s you, and you know better. “That itching under your skin, to be free, it scares you because it makes you feel out of control."
He gives you a long, searching look, so you continue.
“You feel trapped because you’re constantly holding back. When you’re in the air, you get to feel free while still being in check, but flying is only one piece of your world now. It can’t make up for the unrest you feel in the rest of the puzzle.”
Hangman takes a long chug of lukewarm beer as your words sink in.
He’s used to holding back, being disciplined. But it breeds this discomfort, deep within. He’s chomping at the bit for something more, feels like he’ll crawl out of his skin if he doesn’t get it.
That’s why he flies, why people like Rooster and Phoenix hate the way he flies, just on this side of reckless. Always pushing for more, one second quicker, one knot faster. It’s the only place in the world he feels like himself. But on days like this, it doesn’t seem like enough.
He’s never allowed anyone, even his wife and especially his daughter, to see him out of control. He knows you’re right, knows he gets edgy from holding so tightly on the reigns for too long, from pretending to be normal, from playing like this is the life he always planned on. But going through the motions of being normal and stable does make them true, to some degree. What’s the difference between performing the part of a good family man and actually being one? Just because sometimes it’s an act doesn’t mean it isn’t a part of him.
Jake always thought it’d go away, that he’d grow out of this itch under his skin. He married a nice girl because that’s what he was supposed to do. He bought the suburban house, got the white picket fence, the life that a decent military man gets when he grows out of sleeping with a different girl every night.
He loves his daughter, he truly does, would die for her without a second thought. But sometimes he looks around, at this life that he was supposed to want and thinks, now what?
He always figured there was something wrong with him, but that he’d be able to stomp out the rebellion burning in his chest the older he got.
He never considered maybe he settled before he really knew what love was supposed to feel like.
Too late now.
•••
Hangman’s mouth is drier than the Sahara.
You’re wearing a dress.
His brain has been short circuiting since he walked in and saw you in that tease of an outfit. He’s willing himself to say something, literally anything, besides breathing out an order for you to bend over.
“That’s a nice dress,” he says finally. Having recovered somewhat he jokes, “Can I talk you out of it?”
Only a couple steps above want to let me fuck you senseless in front of all these people? But he’ll take what he can get at this point. With your normally jean clad legs on display, his self-control has all but jumped out the window of a moving car.
You don’t know what possessed you to put it on for work, but you’ve already decided you’re not going to examine the impulse too hard. It’s nothing scandalous, a simple black sundress long enough not to give everyone in the bar a show when you bend down to grab bottles from the cooler, but short enough that it shows off your legs, soft from being exfoliated by the California sand.
He doesn’t need to know about the warmth that spreads from your fingertips to your toes when he notices your outfit, you’ll take that little secret to your grave.
You’d be an idiot not to notice his jokes getting more direct. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it.
It’s harmless, you try to convince yourself. He’s a flirt, you’re a flirt, it’s not like either of you would ever do anything about it.
If he weren’t so tall, so tan, so blonde, so Hangman you’d probably think he was a creep. But there’s something about the confidence with which he says shit like that that makes the comments panty melting instead of disgusting.
“Go home and talk your wife out of hers,” you quip, ignoring how hot it suddenly is in the room in favor of indulging in your usual banter with him, making a show of rolling your eyes for good measure.
You expect another lewd joke in response, but instead receive silence and lift your eyes to see a beautiful man shifting uncomfortably in his chair.
Stupid, you think. No one spends this much time in a bar when things are good at home.
“Sorry,” you say quickly. “Bad joke, I—”
He smiles at you, not his usual smirk, more reassuring, but firm. “It’s okay.”
You almost thank him for interrupting, because you have no idea where that sentence was going. There’s a beat of awkward silence before he speaks again.
“That’s uh, not really an option at home, hasn’t been for years now."
Surely his brain is broken from that stupid dress, because that's about twenty paces beyond typical bar conversation honesty.
You try not to react to the slight melancholy tinge in his words, but your face clearly betrays the shock you feel, because he immediately starts backtracking.
“I’m sorry, that was too much information.” He’s apologizing now, and you start to feel bad for making that face out loud. “I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Your lips can’t help but twitch upwards a little at the ever-confident Hangman tripping over his words, how quickly your roles have reversed in a matter of seconds.
“You didn’t,” you promise, placing a gentle hand to still his fingers fidgeting with his beer bottle. “We’re friends, that doesn’t make me uncomfortable. Took me by surprise, is all.”
Because who could go a single day, let alone years, without ripping your clothes off is what you don’t say.
He nods once, eyes on where your fingers touch before trying to shrug, playing at nonchalance, but not quite getting away with it as he’s still uncharacteristically tense.
Well now, you really do feel bad for not being able to control your facial expressions.
“It’s hard, you know, with Callie. She’s our number one priority, other things tend to fall by the wayside.”
“For years?” you ask, using the gentle tone you’ve started to adopt when you know he’s opening up to you, well out of his element.
Hangman picks at the label on his beer, avoiding your eyes. “I was gone so much before. We got so used to being apart I think we forgot how to be together.”
You hum an agreeable noise, not sure if there’s words that could help him at this point.
“I thought, well hoped, when I came back to instruct at Top Gun it would help us. Since I’d be around more.”
“But it hasn’t.”
It’s not a question because the answer is that he’s sitting here with you instead of home in bed with his wife.
“No,” he confirms. “At least now I know it’s not the distance. We’re not in love anymore. Haven’t been for a long time.”
You settle into a comfortable silence, patting his hand again before moving on to another pint glass.
“I get to spend more time with Callie this way,” he says, suddenly bright. “That makes it all worth it.”
•••
The thing about Alex is, he's handsome, hot even, but you err on the side of caution with him, assuming he's flirting with an angle. No one as conventionally attractive as him is actually this nice.
Plus, you feel pretty uneasy about him making conversation with you with Penny and Hangman a few feet away. You’re trying not to think too hard about why that is.
“Are you allowed to drink at work? Do a shot with me?”
You lean into Alex conspiratorially, gesturing to Penny and keeping your voice low, but loud enough that she can still hear you. “Thank you for the offer, but no. Between you and me, the owner is kind of a stick in the mud.”
He outright chuckles at that. “That’s too bad, I guess she’s not as cool as I thought.”
“He was hitting on you,” Penny informs you after he’s gone back to his group, completely ignoring your dig at her.
“No, he wasn’t,” you reply automatically, no part of you wanting to have this conversation with present company. Penny means well, but she’s far too invested in your love life—or lack thereof. She’s always telling you what a catch you are, how she can’t believe you’re single.
You’ve never told her about the insecurities that simmer under your confident service industry persona. The fact that you’ve been burned by plenty of seemingly nice guys like Alex, texts going unanswered the moment they got what they wanted. That you got tired of playing games, of pretending not to care because showing you’re interested in someone always lead them to lose interest. It just seems easier to not bother, it’s not like you mind being alone.
“Yes, he was,” Penny and Hangman say in unison.
You shoot Hangman a glare, who’s side are you on?
He shrugs in response, strangely subdued.
“Maybe he just wants a free shot,” you say evenly. “I always offer to buy my bartenders shots when I go out. Usually ends up being free."
Hangman snorts and you flip him off without looking over.
Penny hums in agreement with him, and you kind of wish she wasn’t your boss for a second so you could flip her off too. “That is not why he asked you that.”
Wishing you were literally anywhere else, you focus your efforts on cutting limes into perfect little wedges, refusing to look at the silent conversation they’re sure to be having behind your back.
“You should ask him out,” she continues, and you should’ve known ignoring her wouldn’t end your suffering.
“Pen, I’m not going to date every guy that comes in here.”
“Honey, middle schoolers have more dates than you do, you’re definitely not in danger of that.”
Uh, ouch. You open your mouth to protest, but she barrels on.
“When was the last time you went on a date? Better yet, when was the last time you got laid?”
Somewhere to your left Hangman chokes on his beer. You debate purposefully choking on a lime, so Penny is forced to do the Heimlich on you and forget about Alex.
“Don’t overthink it, you don’t have to fall in love with him. All I’m saying is, a night or two couldn’t hurt.”
“You have to stop,” you groan, putting your face in your hands. “I’m begging you to stop.”
“I mean have you seen him?” Penny asks incredulously, she clearly hasn’t heard a single word you’ve said.
You look to the ceiling praying for strength. "I have seen him, yes, so I'm sure that's supposed to be referring to the fact that he's hot like the surface of the sun. He’s not my type.”
You hear another noise, something almost pained, from the other side of the bar, but you and Penny studiously ignore it. If you weren’t so distracted by your verbal judo with her you might have time to wonder if this is the longest period of time Hangman has gone without saying anything in his entire life.
She waves her hand dismissively, like you couldn’t possibly know anything about your own type, turning to the bar. “Don’t you agree, Hangman? She deserves a nice man. It’s just a bonus that he’s gorgeous.”
He clears his throat, expression unreadable.
“You do deserve a nice guy,” he concurs eventually with an upturn of his lips, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
You crinkle your nose. “I’m not into the nice guy thing. Doesn’t do it for me.”
At least with assholes I know what I'm getting. Even if it's not what I really want.
That earns a full smirk from him, eyes sparkling with trouble, and you really would like to pour ice water over the comforting warmth spreading through your chest when you see them not carefully devoid of emotion. “Is that so, sweetheart?”
Penny clucks her tongue in a disapproving noise, and you almost jump, having forgotten she was there for a moment. “You going to save any sugar for your wife, or use it all on my bartenders, Hangman?”
That shuts you both up real quick.
Don’t overthink it, you mull over in your head. You don’t have to fall in love with him, but a night or two couldn’t hurt.
Penny, so comfortable with herself, so unabashedly free with her feelings while still being effortlessly tough and cool, sees a lot of herself in you, she’s alluded to it on many occasions. You’ve always taken it as a compliment, that your mask is so good even the people you’re emulating can’t tell.
She’s broken many hearts in her day, you’re sure of it. Had her heart broken too, you have to assume, but it's never incapacitated her the way you're certain it would paralyze you.
If her wild stories are to be believed she's had plenty of fun nights, not overthinking things, able to have a spontaneous fling without agonizing over it for weeks afterwards, not always conflating romance and sex.
You’ve never mentioned to Penny how you never quite figured out how to untangle the two, how you’re embarrassed at secretly being a romantic, believing in everything romcoms have told you.
That’s the thing about pretending, about putting up fronts. Everyone makes assumptions and you never bother to correct them, no matter how off base they are.
So, when Penny, your friends, your regulars, pretty much everyone you know thinks you must be afraid of commitment, that you avoid dates because you don’t want to deal with other peoples’ messy feelings, you go along with it, even encourage it with sly comments of your own. Because it seems less pathetic than the truth.
Somewhere along the way you never learned that it was okay to love love.
You always wanted to be different than the stereotypes, to prove you were more than the little girls they made fun of for planning their weddings, chided for being a romantic. You know you shouldn't care if other people think you're soft. But you do, and you haven't quite figured out how to stop.
You’ll never admit the duplicity, that you love love, want the happy ending, but can’t seem to stop chasing the spark that comes with winning over the emotionally unavailable assholes.
•••
It’s Wednesday. If anyone asked, you’d vehemently deny it, but it’s quickly become your least favorite day to work. Not only is it your Monday, but it might have a little bit to do with the fact that Callie has soccer on Wednesdays which means your favorite pilot only stops in for a moment after work before leaving to take her.
“I should ring the bell, since I’m pretty sure you know where I found this,” you tease, grabbing Hangman’s phone from behind the bar, after he’d left it on top to go greet some other officers.
Luckily for him you’re wearing jeans again, so he’s completely unfazed by your hint of a threat. He raises an eyebrow, challenging. “You won’t.”
That does not knock the wind out of you, that self-assured confidence radiating from him, that powerful inflection in his tone, it absolutely, resolutely does not make you weak in the knees and your panties wet.
And if it does, he doesn’t have to know.
“Someone seems awfully sure of himself,” you murmur, trying to maintain your composure against his commandeering, unblinking stare.
You forget, sometimes, that when he’s not undressing you with his eyes or cracking inappropriate jokes in your place of work, Hangman is actually in charge of other Navy officers. That fact seems abundantly clear right now, since it feels like he’s able to give you orders with just two little words.
You wish every cell in your body didn’t want to comply, but you find yourself handing his phone back almost immediately after the remark leaves your lips.
If you weren’t already so distracted, you’d notice a playful spark lighting up those green eyes, before he drawls, “Atta girl.”
You’re pretty sure your jaw goes slack.
Not one hundred percent sure, because your brain has gone offline and all you can hear is your heart pounding in your chest.
He smirks.
Suddenly, you’re thanking God it’s Wednesday and he leaves shortly after that little exchange because you’re not sure you’ll be responsible for your own actions if you hear that come out of his toothpick wielding lips again.
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when the door swings shut behind him.
Later, you go to thumb through your phone while it’s slow, only to realize you must’ve switched yours and Hangman’s earlier. You’re not surprised, really, you both have plain black cases, and you were awfully distracted by his mood, whatever the fuck that was.
Typing in your own number, you shoot a quick text, Missing something?
Hangman is decidedly easier to deal with through the phone, without having to hear his husky voice and feel his praise raise goosebumps up your arms.
He doesn’t answer, you don’t expect him to since you’re not a neanderthal and actually have a passcode on your phone, but you figure he’ll see the message lighting up on the lock screen eventually.
Long after the sun has set over the water he strides back in and you suck in a sharp breath, he’s in civvies.
Absolutely no one should look this sinful in jeans and a sweatshirt.
You debate quitting on the spot, because how much can you really be expected to take in one day?
Hangman shoots you a dazzling grin in thanks as you two switch your phones back and you’re glad he hasn’t said anything yet, since your brain is currently sputtering asefjsdflkjsibrjsl.
“You staying?” You ask finally, mouth still parched, after he settles into his stool. You move to pull a beer out of the case, just to have something to do besides stare at him open-mouthed. He seems marginally more relaxed now, less commanding, which is probably good for your psyche, but the way his thin blue hoodie is stretching over those shoulders is still not doing your ruined panties any favors.
“I don’t feel like drinking,” he admits, but he doesn’t move to get up.
You try to ignore the warmth that blooms in your chest at the clear indication he’s staying to spend time with you. You pull a pint glass, filling it with ice and soda water, topping it with a lime and barely resisting the urge to add cranberry juice or some other pink liquid before setting it in front of him.
He smirks, like he somehow knows he won the battle because you didn’t bother to tease him with a vaguely girly mocktail. You’re still recovering from his atta girl hours ago so you’re immediately thankful he doesn’t comment.
The only issue on this otherwise now perfect Wednesday is Brian. You’re fairly certain that’s his name anyways. He usually comes in on Wednesdays and sometimes you pass the time by making small talk with him, but he must be feeling resentful tonight because with Hangman in the room your interest is emphatically elsewhere.
He’s coming up to the bar more than usual, creating excuses to leave his friends and force your attention away from the blonde sitting nearby.
Brian is blathering on about some bar crawl in San Diego his friends want to go on this weekend, if you want to come along. You’re busy sneaking looks at Hangman’s biceps which are way too visible underneath that joke of a sweatshirt. After realizing a couple beats late Brian is actually looking for a response, you politely decline, citing that you work weekends. He unfortunately takes that as a sign to ask for your number, so that he can invite you out on one of your nights off.
“No, I don’t give my number to customers, sorry.”
Hangman hopes the puffing out of his chest isn’t too obvious at overhearing your remark, proud that your number in his phone is proof that he’s not just another Hard Deck regular to you. He also studiously avoids that off kilter feeling that simmers under needing the proof at all.
“Aw, come on, can’t you make an exception for me?” He asks. “I must be your favorite customer by now.”
Not by a long shot, buddy. You’re sure your eyes are rolling obviously at this point.
“You should really learn how to take no for an answer.” Hangman’s voice slips into his syrupy southern drawl as he gets annoyed with Brian’s insistence.
“This doesn’t concern you,” Brian replies dismissively.
“It does when you don’t seem to understand that no means no, pal.” He’s sitting up straighter now, muscles taut and tensed underneath his jacket.
“I don’t know what your issue is man, she your girl or something? The bitch flirts with me every time I come in here.”
You were ready to let Brian off easy until this little gem of a comment.
“She’s working,” Hangman spits venomously, volume rising. “Do you think strippers want to go home with you too?”
You bite back a laugh because, honestly, this guy does strike you as the type. Luckily, you have just enough sense to keep your amusement to yourself and dedicate your efforts to deescalating before Hangman does something that’ll get him kicked off the island, paying very little attention the part of you that heats up at him coming to your defense.
“Hey.” You wave your hand in front of Hangman’s face, his mind still sharply focused on the man on the other side of the bar. “You’re being a dick right now.”
He blinks once, twice, finally looking at you, expression softening a miniscule amount. “Sorry, sweetheart.”
His volume has returned to normal, but his jaw is still clenched, spine bristled straight. Your panties are probably drenched right now in response to the testosterone pouring off of him in waves, fighting a shiver at the stark difference between the sweetheart that rolls of his tongue in your direction and the incensed glare he sends to the man behind you.
After what is hopefully not a long, telling silence divulging all your dirty thoughts, you wave your hand again, less aggressively this time. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but don’t start yelling or sink to his level. You’re better than that.”
Oh, how Jake wishes that were true.
He wishes he didn’t look at you with the same lust in his eyes that this creep does, wishes he didn’t want to bend you over the bar till you’re drunk on his cock and all you know is his name. He almost understands why this guy is so insistent, he’s no stranger to the dizzy, overwhelming air you fill every room with.
But he’s a fighter pilot, the Navy’s best, supposedly a master at discipline. So, he’s able to keep those thoughts mostly inside his head, unlike this asshole. He has that at least.
He stares at his club soda instead of answering.
Only somewhat sure Jake is no longer two seconds away from hitting this idiot over the head with his pint glass, you turn back to the asshole in question.
“I’m done with you,” you inform him, ice in every syllable. “It’s time for you to leave.”
“C’mon I was only...” he tries again and either your face or Hangman’s—probably both—must be murderous because he snaps his mouth shut when he looks in your direction.
“Leave,” you repeat stonily, “before I change my mind about letting Hangman here ruin your fucking week.”
He glances quickly between the two of you as he backs up from the bar, hands raised in defeat, before turning on his heel to powerwalk out the door.
“I don’t know how you do this job,” Hangman grumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face.
Brian is already becoming a distant memory with him there to distract you and you can’t help but brush your hand over the knuckles of his other hand in silent thanks.
“It’s not so bad with you as my bodyguard.” Your tone is light, teasing and ideally not betraying the electricity sizzling as you take in his strong fingers laying on the bar.
You swear your eyes must be playing tricks on you because his green eyes seem to flash a shade darker when you touch him.
Shaking your head to rid it of that ridiculous thought, you turn around to take care of customers that were neglected during Brian’s little tantrum.
“I really am sorry,” Hangman tells you later when he stands to leave, hands in his pockets, he looks almost bashful. It’s annoyingly cute.
“Phoenix has told me off enough times for things like that…I should know better by now.”
“I’m not upset.” You pat him on the shoulder, friendly, but it’s really just an excuse to touch him while you’re on your way to pick up glasses from empty tables. “I don’t want to set a precedent of needing you guys to take care of me around here, but I won’t lie and say it’s not charming when you do it.”
There goes that flash again.
“Plus, I was pretty worried about what you’d do to him, you had a crazy look going on there,” you tease, trying to maintain your light and breezy air, but you know your tone is heating by the second. “Better be careful, Hangman, or a girl might start getting ideas.”
“Jake.”
You furrow your brows as you attempt to read the expression on his face.
“Call me Jake,” he reiterates, decisively. There’s a beat of silence as he debates whether he can really cross this line. “Or sir.”
Maybe he is no better than the piece of shit that just left.
He’s not sure he cares. How could he, when it’s clear you don’t need to give in to him, but he’s pretty sure you might choose to anyways?
How could he resist that?
You have to actively stop your knees from buckling, feeling his quiet domination in every nerve ending.
Idly, you think that no one in the Navy has probably ever described Hangman as quiet, he always preferred to be loud, brazen and inappropriate. This was inappropriate too, but in a way that made you want to rip his clothes off instead scoff and ring the bell at him, inappropriate in a very Jake way.
Before you can even begin to formulate a response, he leans down to press a kiss to your cheek, those strong fingers brushing against the exposed skin between your shirt and the top of your jeans, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
It’s almost chaste, really, but your body is ablaze, lips parting and air coming out in shallow breaths, barely holding back a whine.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Jake rasps in your ear, meeting your eyes with an intensity you assume is normally reserved for flying multi-million-dollar airplanes before striding out the door.
You nearly collapse on the bar as soon as he leaves, mind reeling.
•••
You’ve always taken Jake for a dominant guy, overly so. He certainly thinks of himself as an Alpha male, that much is clear. Never in a million years did you expect to have him shirtless beneath you, writhing on your bed, hands fisted in the sheets to keep you from slapping them down every time they get close to your body.
“Please, sweetheart,” he’s begging now. “Let me touch you.”
You’re trailing your hands down his abs, tracing the defined ridges, playing at innocence. “But I want to make you feel good, don’t you want to let me take care of you, Lieutenant?”
Jake tenses, every muscle in his body going taut for a brief moment before he leans his head back, eyes on the ceiling and whines.
And well, that’s just about the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.
First palming your tits, you run your hands down your body, watching the way his eyes follow their path hungrily. You’re grinding your aching cunt on his jean clad thigh, and Jake is pretty sure he’s going to pass out.
The sight of you, gorgeously flushed and fully naked on top of him while he strains against the confines of his jeans is too much. He knows he’s going to see it behind his eyelids every day for the rest of his life, can already picture it perfectly with his gaze fixed on the fan in your bedroom, praying for strength.
Rocking your hips back and forth on his leg, you lose yourself in the sensations. You had grand plans when you pushed him down onto the bed, intended on teasing him a little just for fun and getting your mouth on him, but after seeing him squirm underneath you, carefully laid plans are quickly unraveling.
Intoxicating, is the only way to describe what it’s like having all six feet of self-assured Jake Seresin wanton and begging for you. That in itself has gotten you closer than you ever expected, the rough denim pushing against your clit with every roll of your hips doing the rest.
Tension building, there’s a spark of pleasure building at your center, spreading out to your limbs on either side of Jake’s muscular leg. Then the dam breaks, washing away any scrap of tension you might’ve had left.
You’re only vaguely aware of the noises leaving your mouth, some garbled mix of yesyesyes, fuck Jake, yes, as you grind out your high on his leg.
The vein in Jake’s forehead is throbbing.
He’s never been more turned on in his life, watching you take, take, and take from him. Not able to touch you, having to be a passenger in your ride, frustrating him more than he ever thought possible, forcing him to find depths of willpower he didn’t even know existed in him.
You fight a blush when you look down at the wet spot on his jeans, but quickly move past it when your eyes reach the bulge of his cock beneath his zipper.
Pulling his jeans off, you bite your lip when you see how achingly hard he is for you. He’s leaking precum, cock twitching under your gaze.
“Please,” he gasps again, the lines of his body tense with need, eyes raking up and down your nude form as you kneel above him.
You throw a wink in his direction, roles still delightfully reversed before you turn around and line him up with your cunt, facing away from him and giving him the perfect view of the back of you.
“You’re gonna kill me one day,” he grinds out, hands immediately going to grab your ass. You allow him a couple squeezes before pulling his hands off you again, biting back a giggle when he lets out a grunt of displeasure.
Slowly, you lower yourself down on him, unable to keep in the breathless whimpers as he stretches you more than you ever thought possible. It almost hurts, right on the line of pain, but that’s quickly overtaken by white-hot, slick pleasure.
You’ve never felt so full.
Looking over your shoulder you see Jake’s mouth wide open, no sound coming out as you adjust to the size of him. His hands are white knuckled in the sheets again, you’re honestly surprised he hasn’t ripped them yet.
You roll your hips, starting to find your rhythm and a guttural sound rips out of his chest, head thrown back on your pillows, long line of his neck exposed.
When he meets your eyes again you hardly see any green in his irises, pupils blown with lust, just barely visible under hooded eyelids. He’s flushed pink all the way up his chest, lips swollen from being bitten. He looks absolutely debauched, exactly how you’ve been picturing him since the moment you met.
You arch your back, breaking your gaze from the sinful sight behind you, fingers trailing down to your clit again and pressing in quick, decisive circles. You know it’ll be easy, coming again when you feel so full of Jake, with him hitting that spot inside of you over and over with every movement of your hips.
He can feel you fluttering around him, can feel how close you’re getting as you take exactly what you need from him, mewls getting higher and higher and—
That’s it.
The idea of you coming again without his fingers being the ones to send you over the edge makes his vision blur scarlet. He’s let you have your fun, but he will crawl out of his skin if another second goes by without his hands on you.
He sits up, long fingered hands going straight to your hips. You’re not even sure how he manages it, but he pulls you off him and pushes your face down into the bed before you can even register the loss of him.
You were wondering how long it’d take him to get fed up with your little games, using his sheer strength to overpower you. That thought sails away easily as he slides back into you, then drawing himself nearly all the way out and back in at a brutal pace.
You reach back, fingers tracing those muscled quads, loving how they flex as he pounds into you.
“No,” he growls, grabbing your wrists in one hand while the other reaches for the belt in his discarded jeans. “Teased me like a fuckin’ brat and now you think you’re allowed to put your hands wherever you want? I don’t think so, darlin’.”
Jake looks at you tenderly for a moment and it’s so out of place in the charged air between you, you almost don’t notice silent question in his eyes. You stare back defiantly, head twisted to the side, mouth closed and certainly not letting out your safe word.
He grins, almost evilly, tightening the belt around your wrists. You take one look at the manic fire sparking off of him and try not to laugh, oh I may have just fucked up. Guess you shouldn't have pushed so hard.
Jake confirms your suspicions, slowing his thrusts as he runs his hands over your ass. “Wanna fuck you stupid, till my name is the only thing coming out of that bratty little mouth.”
His gaze is fixed downwards, watching himself slide in and out of you slowly, the stretch of his cock in your pussy. You whine, pushing back to meet his thrusts in an effort to get the hard and fast pounding you crave.
“So fuckin’ needy for me,” he grunts, hands wandering endlessly after having been denied for so long. “Tight little cunt’s taking me so well.”
Keening at his words, there’s unintelligible noises that maybe sound something like more, harder, please pouring out of you and he speeds up without even thinking about it, so intensely focused on the way you look writhing beneath him, wanting to give his good girl whatever she needs.
He realizes, even as he has you face down, ass up and wrists tied, you’re the one in control here.
Which is nothing short of terrifying.
Seeing quite possibly the most captivating woman he’s ever had the chance to know falling apart because of him, he’s not sure how he’ll ever be able to give it up.
He’s had plenty of rough, dominating sex before. Until you, he’d never put any thought into what it means, the responsibility that comes with taking. That you’re really calling the shots here, knowing he can only take what you allow him to.
And he knows already, he’ll always be right there, chomping at the bit to take every single drop you’re willing to give him.
He wants to edge you, wants to make you regret teasing him, wants to hear his name fall from your lips over and over and over again. He wants he wants he wants.
Wants to take care of you, he thinks languidly, so misplaced in the scorching air between you. His hand snakes down, almost of its own accord, fingers deftly working your hot button, finding a rhythm when he hears your mewls getting familiarly frantic again.
His hold on the reigns is slipping away, and he knows in this moment he doesn’t have it in him to deny you a single thing.
“Come for me, honey,” he murmurs, soft and sweet, desperate fervor from being teased by you having dissipated as he watches you give everything to him, trust him so wholly so you can let go.
Jake groans as you clench around him, head dropping to your shoulder blade and leaving panting, open mouthed kisses there, as you whine Jakejakejake, please, oh my god, Jake.
He wants to last longer, wants to draw this out forever, you arching into him, blissed out and repeating his name like a prayer, but he can’t help the way your moans wreck him, the best kind of music to his ears, pulling him over the edge with you.
Your wrists are untied, and you’re wrapped up in Jake’s arms, his cock giving a valiant twitch when he hears the sinful whimper leaving your lips as he pulls out.
With you shuddering in his arms, clinging to him as you come down from your high Jake realizes he is totally, completely and utterly fucked.
It would be easier if it was just sex, but even he can’t lie to himself that extensively. Katelyn doesn’t light his mind on fire the way that you do. The way he feels with you, he never felt this with her, even at their best.
He’s always been Hangman with her, but with you he gets to be Jake.
Somehow, he just knows, that you feel the same, that your souls are cut from the same cloth, that the same fire flickers in your chest. He trusts, like he trusts instincts in the air, that this is a part of you no one’s ever seen, that you constantly feel the magnetic pull between the two of you.
Drawn to each other, like a moth to a flame, fatally attracted to something that’s destined to burn your lives down into the smallest of embers.
When he goes leave, he kisses you deeply. Honeyed, like the Jake you’ve come to know. Affectionate enough that it softens the blow a little, that you can almost forget that he can’t spend the night with you, that you won’t be able to lace your fingers in his the next time he visits you at work.
You glow when he walks in a room, but the longer he’s there the more you want. You want to be happy, want to feel special, having this secret part of Jake no one else gets to see, want it to be plenty for the love in your heart.
You know it’s not enough, but you can’t ignore the insecure part of you that tells you it’s more than you deserve.
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So I seen your wired Joe Keery x reader fic and I really loved it alot!! I was wondering if you can make different interview(probably with jimmy Fallon) with the same reader or different if you have time!!^^
𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓. + 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐑𝐘
m.list / support me. / taglist.
synopsis. Y/n's viral trending interview where she shuts down rumors about her marriage that has got Twitter in a chokehold.
pairing. joe keery x reader
word count. 1.7k
genre and warnings. milf!actor!singer!reader, VMA’s award, social media fic, mentions of depression, black coded, dilf!joe, parent fic, voice claim: Adele, marriage not beta read | — read the first part one here if you want, they're connected. sorry this took so long <3
Y/n L/n shares details, pics, and heart throbbing memories from Joe Keery wedding weekend.
Y/n L/n The normally private celebrity gave her Instagram followers a sneak peek inside her fairytale wedding to husband Joe Keery.
In a private ceremony at L’Olivetta, a villa owned by Dolce & Gabbana, in Portofino, Italy on Sunday, May 22. All of their closest friends and family members watched as the couple swapped vows surrounded by wildflowers and dreamy nature.
Tying the knot with her husband, Joe Keery, wearing a dress described by Vogue as “a custom off-the-shoulder lace bodice embellished with tiny pale pink and white flowers and seed pearls, layered with tulle for volume, and laced for a fairytale look.”
The ceremony was very private and protected for the famous stars, with less than 30 friends and family members gathered to watch the couple.
Even details of the event were scarce in the days immediately following it. Until Y/n let her fans and the world know by sharing a few photos from her big day.
The first post shows her and Keery exchanging their vows surrounded by their loving family members and friends.
The 26-year-old actress posted a video of herself walking down the aisle to Lord Huron's "The Night We Met," which she and Keery, 30, thought was the "most romantic love song."
The video gives us enough details of how stunning her dress truly looked in addition to some of the details of her dazzling edgy makeup.
Keery and L/n’s romantic history is like something out of a romantic romcom, when the two first met in 2017 as co-stars during the production of the show “Stranger Things” second season.
By the end of the season premier, the two actors were spotted around more and more, until their public announcement was posted that they were in fact a couple just keeping it on the low away from the media.
Unbeknownst to their fans, Y/N took to Instagram in 2019 to make a surprise announcement: she was not only pregnant, but she had already given birth to their beautiful son, Graham.
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"I'm here with one of the biggest icons of this generation, Y/n / L/n has grown to become a household name since her start in the spotlight of Stranger Things, showing off amazing talents as well as starting her admirable music career, added to being a mother on top of that." The interviewer announced to the camera a very dazzling Y/n standing next to her with a contented smile, adorned in expensive jewelry.
Her makeup look was dark and dramatic with earthy tones that paired well with the main attraction: the dress.
The trailing sheer maxi dress sparkled in hand sewn pearls and different shades of brown beads that covered all of the parts that mattered, with a deep v-line tuck that stopped at the mid of her torso and long flared sleeves that were perfect against her brown skin.
"Y/n, this is your first music awards appearance. How are you feeling today?"
"Oh, I'm always nervous, but mostly excited to be in the company of so many talented artists. It sort of feels weird not watching from behind a screen." Y/n chuckled, folding her arms to cover her chest; her outfit was already trending on Twitter.
"Yeah, I wanted to ask you, what made you want to break away from just acting in the first place?" The lady leaned in as Y/n nodded her lips, pouting a bit as she thought about the question.
"Honestly, my husband Joe, he makes his own music and I've always just been drawn to everything that he writes. He definitely played as a huge inspiration for pushing me into songwriting; without him, I probably wouldn't even know where to start." Her response was humble, pulling on the heartstrings of all of the fans watching that adored the couple.
Y/n has received nominations for a number of awards for her debut album, after breaking into the mainstream with an ep written with her husband Joe Keery, the musical duo collaborating on award-winning songs including their music videos that had collected 3 billion views all together.
Fans conspired, claiming that the album was a response to the media harassing the actress to the point of hospitalization in 2019, with the hit song, Easy On Me, even reaching global charts.
Y/n struggling with the experience of being a new mother paired with Hollywood's nastiest, the couple unbeknownst separated during the time because of the stress.
In 2022, all secrets were revealed with the release of the song's music video.
Y/n directed a 20-minute short film depicting all the emotions and things she had to go through during and even after her pregnancy. With being thrust into the media spotlight, the actress expressed through her lyrics how it took a mental toll on her in some scenes and even talked about heavier topics like suicide.
Y/n uses her music to show fans how truly unhappy she was in her early days of acting and how she was able to heal with the love and support of her now-husband, Joe Keery, and son.
The media was excited to finally see her perform live for the first time since her parody song in 2017 with the Stranger Things cast, her album being promoted virally online as many of her fans couldn't wait to be brought to tears watching the star get the recognition that she truly deserved.
Racking up nominations for: video of the year, artist of the year, song of the year, best new artist, video for good, album of the year, best cinematography, best direction and best longform video.
"I know that I am personally happy that you’re here. There was a rumor going around that you would even be coming."
"Girl, this LA traffic is a mess. I had to lie in the backseat of a van for two hours so I wouldn't crease my dress and don’t even get me started on the heat. My makeup was melting the entire time. I was thinking about just calling it and telling the driver to turn around, but luckily I had my support."
"Yes, it doesn't get pretty hot here. Your dress is so amazing, by the way, you look so stunning. Was that support that you needed, your husband and cast mates that decided to also make an appearance to help cheer you on?"
"Oh lord no, it wasn’t Joe. He was in the van with me annoying the hell out of me. It was my son Graham. It's his first award show and—fingers crossed—if I end up winning anything, I would like him to be there to thank him since he’s the entire reason why the album even exists."
"To elaborate, in the very inmate-looking music video for All Night Parking, you had Hollywood hottie Sebastion Stan as your love interest. How was filming some of those scenes as well as how did Joe feel being behind the camera being the one to film those scenes?"
"He was actually the one that brought up the casting in the first place, but there wasn't really any awkwardness there. The environment in general was just really comforting and I remember we had to do that many times because I kept making Sebastian laugh. It was just all a mess since we were all friends." Y/n answered professionally, staying clear of any negative rumors spreading about her marriage.
"I have just one more question that I know that the fans at home are curious about as well. In your album you talk a lot about your past experiences as well as your break in relationship with Joe, but fans have been theorizing a lot online about your song. Rumor has it, some of the songs may bring up a theme of someone cheating in the relationship or the song was a shade towards actress Maika Monreo, who in the past has had a relationship with Joe. What are your thoughts on those theories? "
After the question was asked, fans watching held their breath, actually surprised that the interviewer would even be disrespectful enough to ask that question to Y/n’s face, the actress sighing, knowing that the headlines would catch up to her at some point.
"Neither actually. The song was actually written about one of my less loyal ex's. I don't write music to spite anyone, nor do I really plan to in the future." The answer came off more stiff, Y/n's tone shifting from friendly to stern at just a snap of the finger.
The interviewer almost crumbling from the weight of the actress's blank stare.
"Of course! Well, I just wanted to feed the fans, you know, we’re all just so excited to see you perform." In the interview, in hopes of saving her career.
Y/n exits away from the frame of the camera with an eye roll, already being used as a meme online.
33,048 Comments sorted by top comments….
User: Y/n..makes an album hoping to cope with her trauma wanting to move on with her life and heal. Interviewers..brings up her trauma for clout.
User: bro the amount of disrespect Y/n has to face baffles me but the way she handles it..QUEEN BEHAVIOUR
User: Poor Y/n. It just goes to show how interviewers don’t care what they ask, they’re making money either way.
User: Y/n was just being so real. She’s so straight forward and said what needed to be said.
User: I felt like apologising to Y/n for not even doing anything
User: i never did anything to offend y/n, but i’m just gonna apologize right now. yaknow, just in case.
User: It’s weirder when you think that all these female celebrities are experiencing this behaviour ON TV. So what goes on behind closed doors? The whole industry is rotten
User: The media seriously owes an apology to women, BIGTIME.
User: the way that Y/n snapped and stood up for Joe yet was still able to keep it classy and professional gave me so much more respect for her.
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IIRC the difference is power flow. Archaon is lord of the Norsca, he's king of Chaos' worshipers, undisputed, and happens to have won the investiture of the Gods.* Abbadon is Chaos' chosen one to the point of in-game plot armor in 9e but he's not the prime leader of their worshipers, not with Huron and Daemon Primarchs and all running around.
*Wulfrik doesn't count. He disputes everything.
That is definitely the most major element of it. Archaon is basically THE guy to unite chaos under one banner and gain absolute favour from all four major gods. Everchosen are just that; an evil/cataclysmic spin on the "Chosen One" trope. But like final season chose one who changes the setting forever.
Abaddon is... not that. As I've said, he's positioned as Archaon's loose 40k equivalent, and you can draw comparisons, but he isn't even close to Archaon in terms of role significance and general authority.
He is, however, still looked on extremely favourably by the chaos gods, and seen as their strongest bet moving forwards. 40k's setup just doesn't allow for him to be as oppressively impressive as Archaon. And that's fine. They're different settings.
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