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ddejavvu · 3 months ago

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Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Two) (18+) / Part One

Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post

WC: 5.3K / navigation / inbox

A/N: if you've been on my blog anytime since last year and you've heard me mention 'my big hangman fic', this is it! I've been working on Spring Fling for almost a year now, and I'm so excited to share it with you. I hope you enjoy this, and I'm glad so many new people are making their way into our top gun fandom because of twisters and Glen's role in it. Welcome, and enjoy!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

An uncomfortable nap taken out of sheer spite does nothing to improve your mood. Your neck is stiff now, as is your spine, and it pops when you stretch from your place on the tiny loveseat.

“Well, Sleeping Beauty has risen,” Jake grins, the cocky expression boiling your blood, “Ready for dinner, sunshine?”

“I’m going to push you off of this boat.�� You grumble, and Jake blinks, toning his smile down into a grimace.

“Well, maybe some food’ll improve your mood.” Jake rises from where he’d been presumably sleeping as well, though you’re surprised he fell asleep after you and woke up before you. His bedhead gives him away, and he runs his fingers through it, “We’ve got a table reserved in the restaurant for 6, darlin’. We should get there a little early, though, wanna head out now?”

Your nose wrinkles involuntarily, though you wouldn’t have stopped it, “You reserved us a table? I’m not eating with you.”

“We eat together all the time,” He scoffs, “Come on, Y/L/N, this is no different from eating in the mess hall.”

“It’s different because everyone who sees us is either going to think we just had sex, or that we’re about to,” You protest, but he’s out of sympathy to feign.

“Or both,” He grins, running a hand once more through his slightly less messy hair. He’s still barely dressed, and it takes effort for your eyes not to naturally drift away from his face.

“You’re usually wearing a uniform when we eat in the mess hall, Hangman,” You narrow your eyes at him, glancing pointedly below his neck to his bare chest, but straying no further, “Unless they’ve hired you to be a stripper on board, and I’m just now finding out?”

“Nah, I auditioned but they said I was too good,” He crosses his bulging biceps over his chest, a haughty smirk on his face, “I didn’t wanna steal any tips from the ladies.”

“Right,” You drawl, aiming to move past him to reach your suitcase that’s been mysteriously moved from beside your head to the side of the bed opposite from where Jake had been sleeping. Except, the man blocking your path doesn’t move, and you’re stuck in the small hallway-like space that the loveseat is squished into.

“Hangman,” Your teeth are gritted, and they warp your words slightly, “Move. I need my suitcase, I’m going to change for dinner.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with your dress,” He eyes the fabric with feigned consideration, “Except of course that it’s a little long. It only needs to go up to about here,” He snakes a hand towards your waist, laying two hefty smacks against the skin on your hip that lines up just beneath the curve of your ass. He moves faster than you can back away, but you land a valiant smack against his hand when he withdraws it, “Then you could join my stripping act.”

“Hangman, if you touch me again, I’ll rip off your balls,” You swear, but there’s still a glint of mischief far too bright in his eyes for your liking, so you shove past him, making sure to tap your knuckles gently between his legs for good measure.

He groans, hunching over and breathing heavily, “Shit, Y/L/N, you trying to take out the Seresin line?”

“It’s not that bad,” You drawl, setting your suitcase on the bed and delving into its contents, “But a world where you can’t reproduce sounds like one I want to live in.”

You’re already halfway to the bathroom, your evening dress in hand when he calls back, “You act all high and mighty now,” You can hear the grin that Jake’s voice indicates, even if he’s rummaging through his own suitcase for something to wear, “But later tonight I’m gonna have you beggin’ for me to knock you up, darlin’.”

Jake’s efforts to break into the bathroom you’re changing in are certainly impressive, if nothing else. He tries the knob at first, like you’d have forgotten to turn the lock before stripping naked. When you demand a reason he claims he’d forgotten his deodorant, which is a perfect excuse seeing as you miss no chances to point out his sweat-stench after training.

You spot the stick on the counter and give yourself the satisfaction of rolling your eyes, even if he’s not present to see it.

The second time he knocks, having learned his lesson, “Y/N, I need to pee.”

“I’m changing!” You cry, the straps on your dress proving impossible to untangle. Apparently being jostled in a suitcase wasn’t ideal for the dress’s shape.

“Changing what, seasons? By the time you get dressed our leave will be over, and you’re gonna have to get back into uniform.”

“If you’re so anxious to get to dinner, go by yourself!” You insist, frustration laced tight to your tone, “I’ll figure this fucking dress out, enjoy a leisurely meal, and then I’ll meet up with Daniel afterwards!”

You’re so used to Jake’s rapidfire quips that the silence ensuing after your declaration feels awkward. But it’s a victory, one that you don’t often win against the man outside the bathroom door, and you let it ease the sharp sting of annoyance that your dress is needling into you.

A fist lands heavy against the door, and Jake’s voice is unusually devoid of mirth, “Open up.”

“Jake, no!” You spit out his first name like a hex, “I fucking told you-”

“I’m going to help you,” He calls through the door, knocking incessantly, “Come on, you said you can’t figure out your dress, I’ll help you.”

“Nice try!” You scoff, finally pulling at the correct string and watching as the others fall into precarious place around them. You jab your arm into the hole it’s created and slip the rest of them into formation, standing triumphant in front of the mirror and realizing you look quite like you’ve had sex after all.

You smooth down a few flyaway hairs, grab Jake’s deodorant, and fling the door open, just as Jake flattens his hand to slam his palm into the wood, no doubt trying to make more noise than a simple knock.

You’re looking at his face, and he’s looking at yours, but both of you can feel his hand pressed firmly into your tit. You don’t doubt that he’d intended to hit the door instead of you, but he’s not moving away, either. You both stand paralyzed until his brain catches up with his body and he jerks his hand away, lashes fluttering as he blinks bewilderedly despite the wry grin purposefully etched into his features in an attempt to remain nonchalant.

“Didn’t mean to do that,” He simpers, and you’re certain that’s the closest to ‘I’m sorry’ he’s ever given you. You know him well enough to know he’s adequately flustered, but outsiders might not catch the barely-there pink tinge to his tan cheeks, too distracted by his charming smile.

You overlook the accident if only to save yourself the awkward confrontation, ducking your head and shoving the deodorant stick against his chest. His hands come up to catch it and you make a break for the heels you’d set out by the closet, intent on strapping them on instead of talking to him.

He mumbles a distracted, ‘Thanks,’ when you hand him his deodorant, but the stick remains firmly capped in his hands as his gaze trails after you.

“Your dress looks nice.” He concludes, voice a tone softer than it normally is. It’s- nice. You’re too used to the bite of his southern drawl, the way he pairs a cocky quip with an eye-roll more vicious than even the most belligerent teenager. Now they’re soft and gooey-brown as he stares at the straps on your shoulders. This isn’t the first kind thing he’s ever said to you, but it’s certainly the first in a long time, and you swallow the urge to use it against him.

“Thank you.” You grumble, then, to steer away from the thick silence you’ve been enveloped in, “Not sure it’s worth it, though, those straps were fucking confusing.”

You swear you hear a mumbled, ‘It was,’, but Jake’s back is turned to you as he sets his still-capped deodorant on the bathroom counter, so you can’t be sure.

You’re surprised to find that the elevator is just as empty as you’d left it when you and Jake board to head to the 9th floor. The restaurant Jake had reserved your table at is upscale, and you presume everyone else is too busy boning to manage a sit-down meal. You settle against the back wall of the elevator in silence, looking but not watching as Jake presses the 9 button with a thick finger.

The last time you were in this elevator, Daniel was backing you up against the railing and kissing you.

Just the thought brings heat to your cheeks, and you’re thankful for the support that the wall behind you offers. If it wasn’t there, you’re not sure your weak knees would withstand the crushing weight of your weighty crush.

“Was that where he sucked your face?” Jake’s voice shatters your reverie into a million tiny, unsalvageable pieces, and you forget any momentary truce that you might have had with him only moments ago.

“Excuse me?” You level a glare at the man across from you, unimpressed with his accusation even though it was accurate, “He did not suck my face. He kissed me like a gentleman.”

Jake lets out a bark of laughter, “Right. Because gentlemen smear a woman’s lipstick halfway over her chin.”

Despite knowing you’d have seen any makeup smudges when you’d been in the bathroom earlier, your hand darts to your chin.

Jake takes it as an admission of guilt, and his sharp grin only grows, “Exactly. I’ve sucked faces before, I know what the result is.”

A rather unsavory memory assaults you of Jake crowding a vacationing New Yorker up against a wall of the Hard Deck. You push away the nauseating burning in your chest at the image, intent on never seeing Jake Seresin’s tongue inside of anyone’s mouth but his own again.

“You suck faces,” You conclude, still slightly bothered by what you’d recalled, “Daniel kisses.”

“Daniel,” Jake snorts, grasping for something to tease, “That’s not a very moan-able name, is it?”

“Neither is Jake,” You retort, “Jake sounds like a toddler running loose at the mall.”

“That’s why the ladies call me Hangman,” Jake grins, his eyes narrowed in an attempt at a smirk, “Well, some of ‘em call me Hungman by the end of the night.”

“Oh,” Your face twists into a grimace, and you’re thankful for the dinging of the elevator, “You’re not allowed to talk at dinner.”

“Only way you’ll get me to shut up is if you gag me, darlin’.” Jake laughs, stepping out of the elevator and following behind you even as you storm ahead towards the entrance to the dining room.

It’s an opulent room, chandeliers and crystal adorning every surface. You slow your pace before you reach the reception desk, so that the poor employee doesn’t think you’re going to vault over the counter and attack him, but you’re fairly certain there’s still a scowl on your face when you attempt to speak with him.

“We have a table reserved,” You inform the man, conscious of Jake’s impressive build lingering behind you, present and firm, “Room 838?”

With a quick few buttons pressed on the screen before him, the host nods, customer service smile on full force as he gestures to his left, “Of course, right this way.”

You let him lead, and you try not to get distracted by the grandiose decor. Whether it’s authentic material, or just plastic spray-painted gold, it’s beautiful, and you’re so absent-minded that you don’t acknowledge your table until you’re stopped in front of it.

“Here you are; have a lovely meal.” The man politely excuses himself, heading back to the front to greet whoever else is waiting to be checked in for their tables.

You’d been too overwhelmed by finding out that your hot sexy mystery man was actually your brutally combative fellow pilot to think about what dinner would entail beyond heated bickering. He’d drawn a comparison to the mess hall and your brain had run with it, but this is decidedly different from the drab benches you’re used to.

This is a small, delicate, round table, a white tablecloth draped elegantly overtop. It’s two candles, giving off a small aura of warm light around the dim restaurant, crystalline dishes framed with polished silverware. It’s an enclosed space, it’s knees brushing and eyes twinkling with candlelight, it’s electric shocks when skin meets skin. It’s romantic by design, and you refuse to share it with Hangman.

But you can’t refuse.

The waitstaff is limited and overworked, evidenced by the mountain of covered trays you see them rushing to different tables. It would be rude to storm out, and while you’re not worried about offending Jake, you don’t want to inconvenience the staff.

Jake sniffs out your internal conflict by only a glance at your stiff stance, a skill he’s acquired after years of working out the perfect way to get under your skin. He can read you like a book, and he knows fury and guilt are waging war in your head right now.

You’d like to think he thought fury would win, but it’s guilt in the end. You step towards your chair, reaching out with two fingers to pinch the candle on your side of the table. The flame snuffs out beneath your touch, and the mild burning sensation is worth it to hear Jake scoff.

“Nicely done, killer,” He drawls, sounding offensively unperturbed by your obvious dislike of him. To your complete and utter indignance he reaches behind your back to pull the chair out from it’s seat, offering it to you as a peace treaty.

You are not a peaceful person, not when it comes to Hangman.

You take the opposite seat, maintaining sharp eye contact with Jake as you sit down. He inhales, and you take satisfaction in the puff of his chest, a telltale sign that he’s beginning to get aggravated. He lowers himself into his own seat, but notices the way your hand darts for the one candle that’s still lit, and he snatches it out of your way before you can snuff it out. It causes the silverware on the table to rattle, and you and Jake are required to send placatingly charming smiles to the people at nearby tables who turned at the commotion.

He turns that once-dazzling grin on you like a weapon as he relights the blackened wick of the candle you’d pinched, letting it burn once more to illuminate his features.

You don’t waste a second in snuffing it out again, “The point was so that I didn’t have to see your ugly face.”

“You are the most charming dinner guest I’ve ever had the pleasure of dining with,” Jake croons, unflappable as ever, “Put your napkin on your lap, Y/N, it’ll keep your dress dry when you’re drooling over me.”

You take ash-stained fingers and leave streaky, dark prints on the white cloth napkin, draping it over your lap and folding your hands neatly over it.

“Careful, Hangman,” You warn, your voice low and your face deceptively cheery as you nod kindly at a passing waiter, “They gave me two different knives to stab you with.”

“God, why are you so pissy?” He asks, and for a moment, you don’t know the answer. It catches you off guard, and that’s never supposed to happen, not around Hangman. He speaks again before you have the chance to respond- typical.

“So, we ended up on the same sex boat. Whatever, Y/L/N, shit happens.” His jaw is tense, fraught with annoyance while his eyes blaze like the jet engines he’s so used to gunning, “I’m just teasing, y’know. You know me, I’m not a monster, I’m not going to force you to have sex with me. If you don’t want to, then we won’t, and that’s that. You don’t have to keep snapping at me, I won’t bite you.”

It’s possibly the most heartfelt, sincere thing that Hangman has ever said to you, albeit in exasperation, and you’re not sure you’re comfortable with that. Your rapport with the man has always been full of quips and jabs, nothing like what he’s just unleashed. You’d known he must have had a soft side, but you thought perhaps he’d left it back in Texas, because this is something new. You see a waiter approaching from behind Jake and smile politely at them, clueing your dinner date in to their appearance.

“Unless you want me to,” Jake adds with an insufferable wink, using the last few seconds that you’re able to speak freely to tease you.

“Welcome,” The waiter smiles, once more with that impeccably tuned customer service politeness as he hands a wine list to Jake, “What can I get started for you this evening?”

As much as you hate to admit it, Jake’s teasing quip is familiar, a well-worn blanket you find comfort shrouding yourself in, and it breaks the awkward tension that had arisen when Hangman had spoken so sincerely towards you.

You don’t dare let a smile grace your features, but one tries; instead you settle for a kick to his shin beneath the elegant white tablecloth.

“We’ll have- mm! The- uh, the…” Jake trails off, eyes roving down the selection and realizing too late that he’s more attuned to cheap liquor in a beachside bar than he is to elegant pairings of food and wine. He recovers quickly, that special brand of Seresin charm, grinning across the table at you, “Actually, we’d like it if you surprised us. Money’s no object,” He throws in a grotesquely over-the-top wink, “Just make it special for my roommate here.”

Your teeth ache as you grind them together in a smile, and you swear you can feel your right eye begging to twitch, “How considerate of you, Jake.”

“Anything for you, dear,” He replies easily, accepting two dinner menus from the waiter and thanking him. You maintain the common courtesy of waiting until the poor man is out of earshot before tearing into Jake, and he’s lucky he’s got both of the menus still in his hands, or you’d smack him upside the head with one.

“I’m not paying out of my ass to get drunk at a candlelight dinner with you.” You hiss, courteous of the other patrons, but barely able to contain yourself.

“No, you’re not.” He agrees, blinking like he’s not sure why you’re close to shouting, “I am.”

“That’s- ooh!” You fume, eyes clamped shut and jaw so tight it hurts. You take a second to breathe, “Hangman, you know damn well I don’t like owing you money.”

You have a very strict no-loans policy, though it only applies to yourself. You have no problem spotting Natasha for a few drinks, or treating Javy to animal fries at In-N-Out, but you’d rather die than let someone use their dollar for your snack at a vending machine. Feeling like you owe something makes your skin crawl, and it’s something your friends have all had to accept. All, of course, except for Hangman, who seems to delight in making your skin crawl.

“You don’t owe me money,” He laughs, taking a sip of the glass of ice water that had been waiting at his place on the table, “And you don’t owe me anything else either, darlin’. I’m paying for the wine.”

“Then I’m not drinking it,” You decide, still caught in your blustering fury, “I’m too tired to deal with your bullshit - you can mill around the ship and beg some poor woman to drink with you, and I’ll go back to our cabin and sleep.”

You wish that the man across from you wasn’t so adept at setting your nerves on fire. You chalk it up to years and years of flying together, at each other’s throats despite being on the same team, but Jake really is able to infuriate you with something as simple as a grin. The way that hollow manipulation glazes over his eyes each time he doles out a charming smile makes your chest burn, and you wish you could get a handle on your frustration. It’s embarrassing, really, that he knows how to pick you apart and induce insanity; you wish you improved at resisting him through practice, but that’s not how it works. It only gets worse, worse and worse and worse until you’re sitting across from him at a candlelit table, yearning to whack him over the head with a black-foldered menu.

“Fine,” Jake snorts, setting the glass down in the wet indent it had made on the tablecloth before, condensation beading at its base, “You don’t have to have any. But you have to take me back to our room - if I get wine drunk, you’ll have to stop me from kissing everyone.”

The startling admission does exactly what Jake intended it to, and you’re caught off guard, the rapidly ticking bomb of frustration inside your chest temporarily disarmed.

“You’re a drunk kisser?”

“A winedrunk kisser, yes ma’am,” Jake nods, the ammunition he supplies you with a far cry from his typically competitive nature, “First and only time I’ve ever had wine was at my sister’s wedding a few years back.” He reminisces, still holding tight to both menus as candlelight flickers on his tanned face, “She wasn’t necessarily thrilled that I started kissin’ on the groom, but I looked good in the veil when the photographer came around.”

He’s good-natured about the snort you let out in response, and finally he offers the menu to you like an olive branch, “You gonna whack me with this thing?”

“How’d you know I wanted to?” You arch an eyebrow, taking the menu from him. Prices aren’t listed - the cost of your meals was included with the boarding pass, but extras like drinks are something you’ll need to pay a tab on later. Nevertheless, the food looks to be worth your money.

“You get this look in your eye when you’re feelin’ feisty,” Jake notes, taking a look at his own menu, “Your jaw gets all tight, and I start gettin’ the urge to cover my crotch.”

Today was not the first time you’ve ever whacked him in the balls; evidently he does learn, even if he chooses not to apply that knowledge.

You neglect to respond, no longer irritated enough to tell Jake that he’s deserved every hit he’s taken from you, but never vulnerable enough to apologize. Instead you bury yourself in the menu, appreciating the array of cuisine that you’re not often treated to on a naval base.

Jake lets you remain silent until the waiter comes back with the wine that he’d ordered, and you nod in thanks with a poorly-concealed clenched jaw to the man when he pours you a glass.

“That looks wonderful, thank you,” Jake gushes, eyes slightly narrowed as he raises his glass to his nose, inhaling the aroma wafting from the wine that he swirls gently, “Smell that, darlin’, ain’t it good?”

You reach for your portion with tense fingers that nearly shatter the stem of the glass as they wrap around it. The scent of the wine is oh-so-tempting; surely Jake’s objective for getting you to smell it was to wear you down into tasting it.

You won’t give in.

“Smells fantastic,” You concede, and if the waiter’s realized he’s in the lion’s den, pinned between two aggressors ready to rip into each other’s throats once more, he doesn’t show it. He merely bows, stepping away again and leaving the bottle on your table.

“That’s good,” Jake muses nonchalantly after a sip, glancing down at the menu in his lap as if you’ll believe he’s perusing it instead of plotting a way to make you explode at the table.

“Well I’m glad you like it, because you’ve got a whole bottle to finish,” You snipe, “I’m not a toddler, Jake, you can’t trick me into eating my broccoli by pretending it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”

“Who said anything about tricking you?” He leans back in his chair, wine set back on the table, “Y/N, I can enjoy a nice glass of wine without it being about you, thank you very much. Believe it or not, the world doesn’t revolve around you, and you’re not the only thing I think about.”

You’re more than used to Jake’s accusations of your egocentrism, not because it’s true, but because it’s what he defaults to whenever he can’t think of a response, but is too stubborn to let the issue go. They don’t worry you anymore like they used to, but they do irritate you, and you’re glad for the deep, smooth voice that calls your name from your left to distract you from Jake’s insults.

You know it before you turn; Daniel is there with his roommate. She’s gorgeous, her dark hair intricately braided and styled, a compliment to her skin that’s only a shade lighter, and you’re only slightly jealous of the way his arm is draped around her middle. You quell it by reminding yourself that you’d frenched him in an elevator only hours after meeting him, and this is a cruise meant for casual sex.

Perhaps your voice is a notch too sincere when you greet him, “Daniel.”

You miss it, your attention fixed on the couple approaching your table, but a muscle jumps in Jake’s jaw as it tightens.

“Well, I guess you’re all some people think about,” Jake drawls, his grin now wolfish and lethal, and while your voice was slightly too kind, his voice is slightly the opposite, scathing in a way, “So you’re- uh, Elevator Boy?”

Daniel’s slight smirk is bashful where he bites the inside of his cheek and nods, “I guess that’s accurate. I- uh, I hope you don’t mind.”

“He doesn’t,” You reply before Jake can conjure up any more misplaced snark, “We’re not hooking up.”

Daniel’s brows furrow for only a split second, a confused reaction he hadn’t been able to politely mask in time. His roommate glances back at Jake, and the knit of her brow is less fleeting; clearly she’s thinking you’re out of your mind for not fucking him.

“Random roommates don’t always work out, I guess,” Daniel smooths over the awkward silence that’s befallen your table, and you want to kiss him for it. Well, you want to kiss him regardless, but now you’re positively fiending for a repeat of earlier.

“He’s my coworker,” You explain, “We really can’t.”

“Oh!” He laughs, and his roommate seems equally amused by your poor fortune, “That’s crazy, and- there’s no changing roommates, is there?”

“She’s stuck with me,” Jake continues aiming that deadly grin towards Daniel, and you’re surprised he hasn’t caught on fire yet.

“Well, if you ever want to switch for a night,” Daniel squeezes his roommate’s side, his fingers ghosting over her exposed skin in the cutout dress she’s sporting, “I’m not an idiot; Danica’s ogling you.”

You marvel at the friendly banter they share after only a few hours of knowing each other, but Daniel seems fantastic to get along with. Danica laughs at his teasing and manages to look barely bashful when she nods at you, “I wasn’t gonna say anything when I thought you two were enjoying yourselves, but I’d be happy to step in if you wanna get lucky for a night.”

“That sounds great,” You jump at the offer, but Jake speaks at the same time, voice a hair louder than your own.

“We’re not interested.” He dismisses Danica’s offer but he looks at Daniel to do it, something dangerous gleaming in his eyes that you’re only used to seeing on the tarmac.

A laugh escapes your throat, horridly disguised as something casual and not your breaking point, “Oh, we aren’t interested? I am.”

Jake blinks, shifting his sharp gaze towards you, “No switching rooms, Y/N.”

“That’s for official placements,” You sit up straighter in your chair, turned fully towards Jake now instead of angled towards Daniel, “But they’re not gonna come check on us at two in the morning to make sure we’re all in our bunks. We can swap for a night.”

“I don’t know why you’re fighting so hard for a night in his bed, the elevator seemed to work just fine. Maybe Danica and I can have a few drinks tonight, and you can slip off and defile floors 1-4.”

“That’s not-” You’re hot on Jake’s trail, intent on defending Daniel and pointing out the hypocrisy in Jake’s scathing statements, but a firm hand falls on your shoulder that silences you. Daniel’s grip is firm, but not painful, more grounding as his touch practically sucks the fire out of your veins and replaces it with calm.

“I think drinks after dinner are a great idea.” Daniel speaks coolly, with all the perfect composure you wish you had around Jake, instead of the barrel of gunfire perpetually smoldering inside of you.

“Me too,” You add, and one of Jake’s eyebrows ticks up.

“Really? I thought you said you were going to bed after this. Something about being too tired to deal with-”

“Your bullshit, Hangman.”

What you engage in next would preferably be described as a battle of wills, but to the outside eye, might look like a staring contest. It’s your vicious glare against Jake’s lazy grin, eyes alight with mischief as he does what he does best - piss you off.

“We’ll plan on drinks, then,” Danica breaks the ice, and you’re grateful for the tones of her sweet voice, “There’s a bar on the ninth deck, do you want to meet there?”

“That sounds great,” You hope she takes your kind smile for what it is; gratitude, “We’ll head there when we’re finished with our food.”

“Right,” Daniel nods, squeezing your shoulder and letting go, taking Danica by the waist once more to lead her to the table their water had pointed at, “See you then.”

Whatever farewell you murmur is lost in the general hubbub of the restaurant, something that you wish would happen to the grating tone of Jake’s drawl.

“So,” He muses, playing coy, but you won’t have it, “You’re not tired anymore?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” You steel yourself, inhaling and letting your chest puff with the breath, “But whatever you’re doing here; trying to ruin this for me just for shits and giggles - it’s gotta stop. I’ll leave you alone, and you can fuck as many people as you want on this ship, okay? You can have what you came here for, a week-long hookup, and all I’m asking in return is for one chance. I just want one. fucking. chance. to enjoy myself. Okay?”

His eyes cloud over throughout the duration of your speech, and it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. It’s unsettling, like something’s dimming his spirit, though you can’t tell what. You’ve quipped back at him before, practically every time he’s ever teased you. But perhaps he’s just as unsettled with your newfound sincerity as you were with his, because his face settles into a hesitant expression. You press on.

“You told me earlier that you’re just teasing me, and that you’re not a monster. If that’s true, then leave me alone.”

He looks wounded only by a slight twitch of his eye; perhaps the prospect of being around you and not lunging teeth-bared at your throat is too much to bear. But he nods, slow and rickety like the joints in his neck protest the movement, “Fine. If that’s what you want, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you.” You respond stiffly, glad for the menu in your lap as it provides an easy out for you; you’re not sure if you can stand looking him in the eyes. You’re afraid you’ll see disappointment there, perhaps real dislike, and you don’t want to find out that the only reason he speaks to you is to mess around with you. You’re content in feeling like you’re friends as well, and if he gives himself away now that you’ve asked him to ease up on the teasing, you’re not sure you’ll enjoy yourself at all on this vacation, no matter how much cheap, distracting sex you have. The truth of the matter is that you value the blossom of his friendship no matter how thorny it can be, and you’re not sure if he’s capable of playing nice without an occasional bite.

You’re sure things will go back to normal on the weathered tarmac, but until then, bobbing along on ocean waves, you want Jake Seresin to be your friend, not your frenemy. If he’s incapable, you want no part of him.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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konniesreality · 2 months ago

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smh y’all still over complicating the “void” state? Omg can we stooop. We are too old for this now 😭 can we please stop calling it the “void state”? that’s not even the OG name?? It’s the I AM STATE.

this isn’t some “void motivation 🥺” post or some shi like that it’s a wake up call, cuz oms y’all need it. Neville explained the “void” as a deep meditation that, in his exact words, is a “SURPRISINGLY EASY ACCOMPLISHMENT.” Tbh y’all saw it, when i had this blog up and running when it was at its peak I would post void challenges and everyone else was doing it too. I took a long hiatus bc I was focusing on my own life and the drama around the “vOiD sTaTe” was just too much for me lol

but now im preaching the right thing, the I AM state is literally you simply just:

1. Relaxing

2. Affirming I AM

…that’s literally it?

I feel like it be on y’all’s minds 24/7 like I wake up and I don’t even think ab the i am state I’m literally thinking about brushing my teeth and school and asking my mom if she can take me shopping and about the upcoming football game and what the theme is gonna be likeeee 😭

it’s not even hard to get into? You literally are just relaxing and AFFIRMING, like ya don’t need subliminals (if it helps then sure) ya don’t need a self concept or a “void concept” like wth is that?? Y’all creating your own fandom around a meditation like it literally has names and abbreviations for it?? Like HUUUH.

“I am a master voider” like hello? A baby can literally get into this meditation YALL stop plzzz. Yes you can manifest instantly with it. The reason you don’t hear about the I AM state is cuz not a lot of ppl now about it except tumblr if you think ab it. And I remember when y’all were going crazy about sammy ingram saying y’all were going nuts but NEWS FLASH she was right. like we not gonna keep sugarcoating this and acting all sweet like no.

Also you guys are always being like “But when I affirm and it doesn’t work 🥺” “I don’t feel symptoms” LIKE AHHH? Symptoms??? THE REASON YOU ARENT SO CALLED “ENTERING” is because YOURE FOCUSING TOO HARD!! Like when you’re playing a sport and you’re tryna get a goal or something and you’re saying “don’t mess up” over and over again and then you mess up. Yep you just let ya team down!! I did that in volleyball and figure skating and guess what I MESSED UP. LIKE?? Can we use logic plz?

it’s a meditation. It’s a meditative state. You don’t need subliminals. You don’t need challenges. You don’t need a 10k affirmation challenge. You don’t need ANYTHING. so please shut up and go meditate. You can do it right now, tomorrow, in a month, before you fall asleep bc your subconscious is open to suggestion, idc.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 days ago

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🎉 Thank You for 10k+ Followers!! 🎉

A big thank you goes out to @cozymochi for this beautiful celebratory commissioned artwork for this major milestone ✨ It really captures the scope of all the content that had been put out in the last 4+ years—both in terms of official Twst materials and on this blog! I think it’s very fitting that we hit this milestone in the month of Halloween too (I just held off on posting this til the month after); it’s Twst’s biggest holiday of the year, so it’s twice the cause for celebration!!

A lot has happened over the course of my time in this fandom. I’ve written many things of course, but I’ve also had many other exciting opportunities! I’ve been interviewed for a paper, met many cool people from all over the world, attended Twst meetups + events, collaborated with other talented creators, received kind gifts, contributed to various fandom projects, and finished telling the origins of my Twst OC. This blog has been with me through a lot of major changes and difficult hurdles in my life too—it’s really been an anchor for me, a comforting and safe space for me to be creative or analytical whenever I want to be.

When I first started this blog as a very casual hobby in summer of 2020, I never even considered that it would balloon to this extent. It still doesn’t feel totally real to me 😭 I don’t usually fixate on numbers (they make me anxious), but looking back on it, 10k is a LOT, and 4 years is a long time. To put that in perspective, if we were in Twisted Wonderland for 4 years then all of the students we’ve come to know and love would have graduated by now. That’s crazy to me. We’ve come so far as a group.

I feel that a large part of fandom is the community that comes with it. I would have found it so challenging to stick with Twst had I not had so many great people keeping me engaged with it. I’d now like to take a moment to thank those folks. Keeping in line with the idea of “4 years”, think of these as little messages scrawled in a yearbook. I also have a blog event planned to celebrate! More on that later.

Please note that I’ve used pseudonyms for most of the following people, as I’d like to respect their privacy (I’m very private myself) + not all of them are comfortable with being explicitly named or tagged to a large crowd. You’ll know who you are if you see yourself on here.

Without further ado:

MSS — Thank you for being the first Twst space I felt truly a part of. It’s still the place I consider my fandom “home” beyond this blog.

April — Thank you for making MSS as a place for us to share! We’re tsunderes in solidarity.

Drinking Knight — The banners wouldn’t exist without your help. Thanks for getting the ball rolling on those; I’d like to think that I’m a little more confident in designing new ones myself now, but you were the start of it all. Your endless enthusiasm for the most insane otome boys, drinks, and bullying (positive) others is truly an inspiration.

Q. Opinionated — Can’t count the number of times you ran tech support for me 💀 Thanks so much for being patient and willing to laugh at a stupid situation. I WILL grip you (escape is not an option) 🤲

Dad with his Printer — Why are you so cheeky My unofficial proofreader and fact checker. Still treasure the teeny J word and coffin magnets you sent, and, even more valuable than those, the bad dad jokes/puns advice and wisdom you give. Wishing you luck on your art adventure.

A. Cider — An unexpected friend I met very late into the fandom and happened to run into irl by total coincidence. Funny how life works. Your shitposts are great, and I appreciate having a like-minded person to talk with about the J words and story critiques. I’d also like to thank you for the many little doodles you’ve made; I know you’re very busy and have a wife to tend to at home but I appreciate that you still make time for friends.

Hana — Extroverted pink-haired magical girl representation. Your bubbly love for Disney, Diasomnia, singing, and (yes) angst lights up the entire room. Maybe you’re not too confident with yourself are right now, but I know you’ll find your way.

Swan — For being quick on the uptake and giving me the heads up about various things! We may not talk much one-on-one, but I’m thinking of you and enjoy seeing you pitch into the conversation. You’re still banned for L*ona posting though/j

Ly — My secret French twin/j Thanks for being my cultural + equine advisor and a voice of (salty) reason. Never shut up about your hyperfixations! You’re a real one.

Oys — Enabler + encourager of my Yan!Sil delusions. Sorry for making your blood pressure spike every time we talk about our food takes. But hey, at least we get a good laugh out of it :))

Mac and Bean — For being my inspirations. Bean, you have such atmospheric writing. I hope my writing style can be just as magical as yours. Mac, it was your blog that first got me into starting my own Twst writing. You never stop being so, so funny also I blame you 120% for the L*ona rot.

Peaches and Cream — To my local Twst friends, thanks for keeping me company even through the hard times. Peaches, happy to be your local Twst dealer anytime. Cream, thanks for hooking me up with new books.

Salt and Flora — I don’t know where you vanished to, but the sea brought you back to me on its tides. I’m so happy we could meet again. Salt, you’re so talented at crochet and design work; get your coin 😂 Flora, you’re the sweetest person ever. Literally cottagecore personified, even in your art.

Piano — We don’t always see eye to eye, but thank you for being my serial debater and showing me new perspectives. Your open-minded theories and analyses are such fun. And, of course, it’s always hilarious to think about how we accidentally (?) swapped oshis 🤡 You’re a star.

The Anklebiter — For having the most unhinged jokes and ideas. Seriously, THE most unhinged. I never do any of the crazy things you suggest but I’m always really entertained from just hearing them.

Te, Mi, and Ro — Thanks for organizing local events and giving me an excuse to touch grass. It’s a lot of hard work and you guys manage to pull it off every time! Mi, I was flattered to have you reach out to me to help a little with the Tweel cupsleeve event. Happy to help anytime! Te, I remember you were cosplaying as Kalim when we first met and I kept thinking about how perfectly suited you are for the role. You were very friendly and made such an effort to include everyone in the event even when I was Idia-ing in the corner. To this day, you continue to spontaneously introduce me to new people 😂 Thanks for getting me put of my comfort zone. Ro, I didn’t think we’d meet again like this. Small world! You’re learning and improving the big events. Here’s hoping to many more!

Vic — For being Ace Trappola when very few others would. It’s refreshing to have someone tell it like it is. I wish I could be as bold and as honest as you are sometimes. You have such a big heart when it comes to the characters you love; it makes me want to adore them like you do too 🫶

Kana — For being so sweet and patient. You helped me through so many rough patches and have also contributed a lot to the look of the blog. It’s so fun gushing with you about magical girls and pretty boys, sharing our favorite shows and movies… I feel as though I’ve made a lifelong friend.

Zari — Thank you for charms and art book, big fan of your stuff 😭 So honored to have worked with you on projects too. I hope to see a lot more of your Yuu and other OCs around, I love following them ^^

Lala — You understand, encourage, and validate my weird tastes in fictional men 💕 Really admire your sense of fashion and stylish nails too. Whenever I have my shrimp apron on, I think of you.

Arisu — No longer in the Twst fandom but integral in the earliest days. Wherever you are now, I wish you nothing but happiness.

P-san — You’re a lifesaver!! Thank you so much for helping me find cute little outfits and accessories for my plushies… They are forever grateful to be properly clothed.

V, Fa, Fe, Ray, Rea, Sonny, Glimmer Group, and Incognito Crew — Thanks for being so supportive of my hyperfixation on Disney villain anime boys, even if you guys have NO clue what I’m rambling about half of the time. To V specifically 🫵 I am NOT a cat boy kisser

Mango — I didn’t know I wanted you in my life until you showed up uninvited one day and chewed your way into my heart.

Azul Ashengrotto — For being the character that first convinced me into giving this game a shot. The Little Mermaid was something I always held so dear to me, so it almost seems like destiny that you’d be the one to drag me down into Twst. You’ll always hold a special place in my heart for that, even if my feelings have changed since then.

Rook Hunt — For being there when I needed to laugh a little. It’s scary to glance over my shoulder sometimes, but you make it easier to smile as I look back.

Rollo Flamme — For letting me know that having negative feelings is normal and human, even if we don’t always cope with them in the healthiest of ways. Let’s reflect and be better together!

Leona Kingscholar — For showing me that change and personal growth is, in fact, possible. Th-This doesn’t mean I like you or anything though, so get off your high horse—

Jade Leech — For taking my hand and guiding me back on the path when I got lost in the dark. Whatever crimes you may commit in your free time, I forgive you/j

Miss Raven Crowley — The little black bird who could, the blog muse. I made you on a whim and look at where you are now… You went from a background character to the main character of your own story. So proud of you, my child 😭

Asset compilers, fan artists, fanfic writers, fan translators, cosplayers, merch makers, editors, plushie pic takers, video essayists, theorizers, etc. — You’re all so important to keeping the fandom alive, especially during periods of official content drought. It wouldn’t be feasible for me to list out all of the content creators I enjoy (chjsbsksks and it honestly might be awkward since I haven’t directly interacted with most of them), but I hope that this message still reaches you and finds you well. Keep doing your thing; I love seeing the work you put out ^^

Anyone and everyone that I’ve ever commissioned and/or received fan works from — I appreciate that you took time and energy out of your day to create something for me. There’s so much talent in the Twst fandom and I’m honored that you would dedicate some of that to a silly little birb.

You, the Readers — For supporting this blog and and what I do here! You’re an important part of my journey too.

Thank you!! Here’s to a future unknown and a page unwritten.

- The Writing Raven

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #milestone #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #Raven Crowley #not my work #Leona Kingscholar #Jade Leech #commissioned art #Azul Ashengrotto #Rook Hunt

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clarenecessities · 1 year ago

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He-man.org will close in 5 days.

He-man.org has been a staple of the Masters of the Universe community since the early days, originating as an email list that worked to document episodes before anything (not footage, not lists, nothing) was available online. It grew into a sprawling, multi-faceted beast of a thing, including an encyclopedia (an in-house wiki), merch lists, a marketplace, forums, anything you could think of.

Several years ago now, the main site went down for updates/maintenance. For a few weeks, we were told, maybe months. The forums remained open for fans to communicate, and barring a period of downtime earlier this year things were going smoothly.

Yesterday, the owner of the site, Val Staples, announced the site would be closed on November 14th, 2023. Six days later. We are currently attempting to contact him, to see if he’s interested in selling, and if he means closed as in “no new posts” or closed as in deleted entirely. Regardless of its eventual fate, the archiving of these forums is essential to preserving the history of the franchise, the fandom, and the brand.

TO SHE-RA (and MotU) FANS SPECIFICALLY: I have personally used these forums to answer questions that could be answered nowhere else. Had I not had access to them, I would never have been able to prove that Purrsia was fake, or found so much unpublished concept art, or discovered that Scott “Toyguru” Neitlich personally wrote Catra’s MOTUC bio (even if he’s put off answering my questions about it for over a year now). Forum members have conducted interviews with the likes of Jon Seisa, Cathy Larson, Janice Varney-Hamlin—essential figures in the very foundations of POP, and those interviews revealed and recorded priceless information for future generations (me! you! us!) to find. Did you know Cathy Larson named Adora? That she originally pushed for “Dorian”, after her own daughter? We cannot let this treasure trove disappear into the ether(ia).

TO THE UNAFFILIATED: Please help. Pretty please. If you’ve ever liked my art or my writing or my haphazard blogging, ever, at all, consider archiving just one board. Just one page. Literally anything helps. I am spiraling into madness & this is my library of Alexandria. The mythical one that was totally unique and persevered nowhere else and was destroyed in a single cataclysmic event. Pretty pretty please help.

HOW TO HELP:

Archive.org has several ways to upload shit but most of them are longer term than “a few days” so we’re focusing on two (which can be run simultaneously): Save Page Now, and browser extensions. From their help page:

1. Save Page Now

Put a URL into the form, press the button, and we save the page. You will instantly have a permanent URL for your page. Please note, this method only saves a single page, not the whole site.

We want to keep outlinks and screenshots wherever possible. The Archive does not keep your IP address, so your submission is anonymous.

2. Browser extensions and add-ons

Install the Wayback Machine Chrome extension in your browser. Go to a page you want to archive, click the icon in your toolbar, and select Save Page Now. We will save the page and give you a permanent URL.

One plus to installing the extension is that as you surf around, when you run into a missing page they will alert you if we have a saved copy.

More extensions, apps, and add-ons:

Firefox add-on

Safari Extension

iOS app

Android app

I strongly encourage you to use these tools even if you aren’t helping with this project/after it ends. Documenting and preserving information is essential in this day and age & The Internet Archive is at the heart of it. Please support them however you can.

I’m serious about paying you, though I may need more communication with folks I don’t know so we can coordinate/verify shit gets done. I think this is a worthwhile pursuit in itself but I recognize your time is valuable & like, people gotta eat. DM me if you’re interested and we’ll talk. I may need to adjust pay depending how many people bite but I’ll do what I can

#motu #he man #she ra #spop #pop #sorry for tag spam but this is important and relevant to you #catradora #it counts!#sorry also if the formatting on this is a disaster #i’m on my phone and haven’t updated my tumblr app in… a couple years #archives #archive #archive.org #wayback machine #help #org forums #neotag #brothers. this has nothing to do with you but don’t you wanna help a bitch out? do it for illusen #please signal boost if you can

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helpimhyperfixating · 2 years ago

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P-P-P R E A C H

Is it just me or the JoJo X OC fandom is getting kind of toxic?

Welp, it is not getting toxic, it already was. And sadly not only the JoJo X OC fandom, but every one of them (flashback to little me seeing those videos of jealous little girls that scream "SANS IS MINE YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM!! *procedes to kill you*, fucking rolling my ass on the floor because I though they were so ridiculous)

Because 💫people are such beautiful creatures💫

Now, I'm lucky to have not met those people yet (knocks on wood), but you probably know who I mean. The ones that say "NOO JOTARO IS ONLY MINE YOU CAN'T HAVE HIIIM", or "gosh your ship sucks, it's so lame", or "stop shipping your oc with Jotaro it is cringe" and other and other and other...

I saw these people somewhere else and not on my blog (fortunately), and this is so fucking disgusting. I already said it and I'll said it again to them (who will not read this, I'm very sure of it because they're such idiots but I don't care): IF YOU DON'T LIKE SOMETHING, SCROLL DOWN. BLOCK THE BLOG YOU DON'T LIKE. JUST. DON'T. SEND. HATE.

You don't know how a person could react to that hate, you don't know how much even one of these comments could affect one's mentality, because yes: behind an OC x Canon or selfship blog, THERE IS A REAL PERSON WITH FEELINGS. A person, a human that is probably struggling with real life's problems and having their blog is the way they cope with them. This is their happy way out to get distracted and feel happy when they feel down, or just somethig they do for fun. Either case, you are ruining that person's happy world.

Why? Just- because???? I really don't see the point of sending hate when you just can IGNORE what you don't like. And no, it's not a big deal, they're fucking fictional characters so you don't need to be the the "hero" of the situation by sending hate to them thinking "aaah, I've done a good thing. Now the Internet is a better place!"

Just- just no.

How are they hurting you in any way?? Just- AYO JUST FUCKING SCROLL DOWN IT'S NOT SO HARD TO DO HAHA

But now, to the people who are jealous about they're s/o and see someone else having a blog about them but with their OC. DO👏 THE👏FUCKING👏SAME!!! Just scroll down, or block the blog you don't like. Easy game!!

People, THEY ARE FICTIONAL CHARACTERS!! NO CANON CHARACTER IS NO ONE'S POSSESSION, BUT TO THEIR OWN CREATORS!! Jotaro isn't yours, is fricking Araki's.

But you can still ship yourself or your OC with him! Because who says you can't? Is there a law for it? For loving a fictional character? No, so just go ahead and do it.

And also- to give it more lOgIc if people still aren't satisfyied with sharing their s/o- in the JJBA lore with Vento Aureo and another thing I will not say because then it'll be spoiler, we are 100% sure that other universes and multiverses exists, that means infinite Jotaros for everyone and so INFINITE SHIPPINGS!

That means that everyone gets to have their own Jotaro, the way they like him in THEIR OWN universe, because there are infinite of them and so your universe is somehow canon. Do you like it better put this way? I hope so, because then idk what else to say if not "block and scroll" the things you don't like.

Let's bless the people that actually do block and scroll the ones they don't like, instead of sending unnecessary hate, because not everyone can like the same thing! It is totally normal! But they do what it is CORRECT, so let's bless them 🙏🙏🙏🙏

#reblog #no because really #Jojo is the most toxic fandom I’m in but we remedy that by curating our own fandom experience #I have blogs blocked because their content makes me unhappy #it doesn’t mean that person running that blog is a bad person #the blog button isn’t just for bad people and bots #it’s there to help you make your internet experience enjoyable #use it

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bad268 · 1 year ago

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Hey. I love your blog. It's amazing. Is it possible for you to write about actress reader x colby brock. Like they are each others favorite and Sam and colby invite her to one of their investigations. Like in one of her interviews found out that their her favorite YouTubers and colby might ask her on a date?

Thank you so much 💗

Tweets (Colby Brock X Actor! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Sam and Colby & Co.

Requested: Clearly (I had a little too much fun with this one lol)

Warnings: none.

Pronouns: First person (I/me)

W.C. 1087

Summary: An unearthed tweet leads to shocking revelations (with a best friend's intervention).

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^@/Colby's insta from November 16, 2023)

It all started with a resurfaced tweet from 2015…

I can’t say it was a lie, but it was before my big break, and I didn't have a manager running my social media accounts 24/7. I was just a normal teenager on Vine with time to kill. And now, I thought it was coming back to haunt me, pun intended.

That was until I received a DM from Colby himself asking me to be a part of their yearly tradition, Hell Week. At first, I was starstruck, but I would have been crazy to decline.

So that’s where we are now: preparing for the Conjuring House. A place of extremes. A place I told myself I would never go to because of how insane it is, yet here I am. And, of course, it’s going to be for a week.

I was invited to Sam and Colby’s place to go over the specifics of the trip. I had just finished filming my latest movie, which was coincidentally being filmed in Las Vegas, so as soon as my scenes were wrapped up, I set off for their house.

By the time I got there, everyone else who was invited was already there. At least, I assumed with the number of cars in the driveway. I was still in stage make-up, but thankfully, I had changed into something more comfortable before I left the set. I grabbed my backpack before jumping out of my car, locking it, and walking up to the door, ringing the doorbell.

Almost immediately, the door is being opened, and I am face to face with Colby. After a beat of us just staring, speechless, at each other, I cleared my throat. I chuckled nervously before saying, “Hi, apologies for being late. Filming ran a little longer than I originally planned. I hope I didn’t hold you all up too long.”

“Nah, don’t even worry about it,” he dismissed quickly as he stepped aside and ushered me inside. “Come in, and I’ll show you where you can put your stuff. You’re staying and going with Sam, Seth, and me to Rhode Island, right?”

“If that’s still alright with you guys,” I replied, walking in step with Colby up the stairs. “I don’t want to impose on your personal spaces. I can go home, just say the word.”

“I would never kick you out,” he laughed, leading me down the hall and stopping just before the end. “Here is your room. There is a bathroom attached. It’s right next to the closet, and if you need anything, my room is right there.” He paused as he pointed to the room at the very end of the hall. “I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night. If you need anything, let me know.”

“I’ll feel bad if it’s the middle of the night, but I will keep that in mind. Thank you,” I replied as I walked in to set my bag down on the vanity. “I’m just going to take my make-up off and meet you guys downstairs if that’s alright.”

“No problem,” he said, “We’ll be in the living room and we’ll either order food later or go out. We’ll see how everyone feels.”

“Ok, cool, thank you!” I said enthusiastically as he left down the hall. I closed the door over as I walked deeper into the room. I grabbed out my micellar water, cotton pads, and hydrater before walking into the ensuite to clean my face. As I set them on the counter, I noticed a piece of paper.

It was a printed screenshot of Twitter. A specific tweet from Colby in 2016 read, “Give me a chance y/n.” The back of the paper had its own handwritten note.

“You have been Colby’s celebrity crush for years. I know you posted a tweet in 2015 asking if he was single, and I don’t know if it was a joke or not. I didn’t show him the tweet, but I can say he’s single now if that tweet is still true. Please just get him to shut up. -Sam”

I chuckled at the note before quickly cleaning my face to head downstairs. Everyone was sitting on the couch or on the floor facing the TV. Everyone except Colby. I glanced around the room, trying to find him, only to see him standing in the kitchen. He was looking through the fridge, so I walked up behind him.

“Can you hand me a water?” I asked, startling him in the process. He jumped up straight, sucking in a quick breath as he snapped around to look at me. “Did I scare you or is that residual energy from the Conjuring House?”

“No, I just…” he trailed off for a second. “Yeah. I wasn’t expecting you down here just yet.”

“Kinda like how you didn’t expect me to see this?” I teased as I pulled the paper out from behind my back. Colby’s eyes grew wide as his jaw dropped. He stammered, trying to come up with a reason behind it, but he could not get a cohesive thought out. “Don’t worry. I’d give you a chance.”

Colby stopped entirely. I could see the gears turning in his mind before he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He opened his eyes, immediately meeting mine as he reached out to take the paper from my hands, setting it on the counter. He held my hands in his as he closed the distance between us.

“Y/n, will you go out with me?” Colby whispered as he bit his lip in nervousness.

“Of course, I will,” I whispered back as a smile spread across both of our faces.

“How about after this meeting we get out of here and do mini golf and dinner?” He offered, leaning his head down to rest our foreheads together.

“I will take you down,” I laughed as I leaned more into his body. “Truth be told, I’m great at mini golf.”

“Okay, lovebirds, we get it,” Sam interrupted from the living room. “We get it.”

“Shush, Sam,” I quipped back as I snapped my head to look at the group on the couch, still holding Colby’s hands. “You’re the one that left the note in my bathroom.”

“Wait, there’s a note?!” Colby shouted as he immediately let go of one of my hands to flip the paper over, reading through the note. “Sam, I told you this in confidence!”

~~~

Part 2 ->

~~~~~

#colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock imagine #colby brock #sam and colby #actor reader #actress reader #colby x reader #colby x y/n #colby brock x you #colby x you #bad268 #ship268 #thing268 #youtuber oneshot #youtubers #youtube

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dilf-issues · 4 months ago

Text

Your Eyes Tell (T.S)

Synopsis: Tommy could never accept a whore to love. But he did anyways, however his ego and pride might be the death of him.

Warnings: Thomas is an asshole and emotionally constipated. (Well he kinda always is), Former Prostitute! Reader, unrequited love?, kidnapping, torture, slight gore, mentions of unwanted pregnancy. ANGST ANGST ANGST, miscarriage, memory lost, vulgar language, sex and mentions of sex, mentions of sexual harrasment and tba…

A/N: Hi everyone this is my first ever story because I have newly converted to Murphysm. I used to write for two different fandoms (Marvel/BTS) if anybody knew me I used to be @steveodinsonbarnes and @voidswan . However I have quit writing for almost two years but recently i fell in love with Cillian Murphy and I just HAD to write about him. Please be gentle on me! It’s been a looong time since I’ve written anything. However for this blog, expect countless of fandoms lol.

PART 2

You stood in the doorway of Thomas's office, watching as he poured over some papers on his desk. He seemed to notice your presence, glancing up briefly before returning to his work. The air between you two was thick with tension. You knew how he felt, but his pride would never allow him to admit it. You slowly walked into the room, closing the door quietly behind you.

“Tommy…” You called out his name, to get his attention. Your voice was trembling slightly as you nicked on your nails and fingers, fidgeting out of nervousness.

Thomas looked up from his work, his expression unreadable. "What do you want?" he asked gruffly. His returned back to the papers, not even bothering to meet your eyes.

You were terrified. You were scared for your life because if you told him what you were about to tell him, you didn’t know how he would react. God knows. You stepped inside his office, attempting to get closer to him. By now you were already standing in front of his desk, looking down at the man you loved dearly and he didn’t even love you back. You knew that much at least.

He leaned back in his chair, studying you closely. "Well, spit it out then," he said, his tone harsh. Getting impatient, Thomas tapped his desk as he breathed out. He was bombarded with paperwork and he had no time to actually deal with you, all he felt was stress and frustration.

I frowned at his tone, looking down as I suddenly felt so small even though I was the one standing and he was sitting in front of me.

“Tommy, there’s something you should know...” Your heart was pounding in your chest as you trembled, you felt the cold sweat running down your neck and it felt like you were about to faint.

Thomas saw the fear in your eyes and his expression softened slightly. "What is it?" he asked, his tone less harsh but still guarded.

“Tommy...” I paused before taking a deep breath before saying what I wanted to say, “I’m pregnant...”

Thomas's expression froze, his eyes wide with shock. "You're.. pregnant?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. He sat in stunned silence for a moment before standing up abruptly and pacing the room.

The first emotion that Thomas felt was confusion, however it quickly turned into anger.

“Who had you been fucking behind me, eh?” You looked at him in disbelief, your hands that you were nicking and fidgeting now fell by your side as you felt anger. Thomas stopped pacing and faced you, his expression hardening. "Are you sure it's mine?" he asked, his voice laced with doubt.

“What do you mean? The only person I’ve been fucking is you, Tommy! For the past two years, I have been with nobody but you!” Your emotions were going haywire, it made sense of the hormonal changes you were going through. You cried out to him and you knew you looked stupid but you couldn’t care less. There was a life growing inside you for four months now and you had just now realized. You always thought you had just been eating too much and gaining weight. However, after a visit to the doctor, he had said otherwise.

Hearing your words, a flicker of guilt crossed Thomas's face. He knew you had always been faithful to him; his previous doubt was just a manifestation of his own insecurities. He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "And you're sure it's mine?" he asked again.

Your sobs quieted down as you looked at him sadly, “Do you still think of me as the whore you found at the side of the streets years ago, Tommy?”

Disappointment and sadness were laced in your voice. Feeling your heart breaking as Tommy stayed silent. He didn’t know what to say, he looked down on you for years and he had never seen you as his equal. At least that was what he tried to convince himself. He could never respect a whore. However, with you, there were times when he had been different, caring, and kind.

“Am I still a dirty whore in your eyes, Thomas?!” I suddenly raised my voice, feeling betrayed.

Thomas winced at your question, knowing he had hurt you. "No, no, I don't think that," At least not as much as back then. His voice taking on a remorseful tone. He stepped closer to you, reaching out to touch your shoulder. "It's just... this is unexpected, that's all."

“It’s yours. I am 4 months pregnant, Tommy...” I stepped closer to him, taking his hands in mind as I looked at him pleadingly. “We could be a family, it’s all I ever wanted with you...”

Thomas’ heart dropped at the confession as he avoided your pleading gaze. The thought sounded nice, you were beautiful and there were no doubts your child with him would be too.

But you... You were a whore. Someone he looked down upon. Even though you have left that life for almost 4 years, he still couldn’t accept that.

Thomas was silent for a moment, absorbing the information. It wasn't that he truly doubted you, but rather, he was having a hard time processing everything. "Four months, huh?" he said quietly, still trying to wrap his head around the situation.

“Yes, Tommy, we can do this! I promise you I will be a wonderful mother... Just please, give me a chance. See me as a lover, Tommy. I beg. We can be so happy, I can make you so happy” You promised him, with hopefulness filling your eyes. You were smiling, already imagining the life ahead of the start of your family with the love of your life.

Thomas's anger seemed to be directed more at the situation than at you. "What were you thinking?" he said, his voice cold and harsh. "Did you not think about the consequences? About what this might do to our lives? Did you think I'd just be happy about this?"

The smile left your face.

“Tommy, this is your child... Our child...”

Thomas's face darkened at your words. "Our child," he repeated, mockingly. "You think I want this? A bastard child with a prostitute?" He took a step closer, towering over you. "You should have been more careful."

You dropped his hands that were in your eyes as you stared blankly at the wall behind him, the tears welling in your eyes once again. Your heart was shattering so loud you could hear it but Tommy was blind, of course, he wouldn’t see how much that hurts you.

“You… don’t mean that… I know you love me, Tommy, I’ve seen you” It was something Tommy would never admit. He would die rather than admit the feelings buried deep inside for you. He had too much pride, he had a reputation to maintain.

Thomas stepped even closer to you, his face inches from yours. "Oh, you've seen it, have you?" he said, his expression hard. "And what makes you think I love you? Just because I've taken care of you? Don’t mistake that for love."

You felt your heart break in a million pieces as you held your tummy, holding the life you and Tommy had created, “Please… Tommy”

Thomas watched as your expression fell, a pang of guilt tugging at his chest. Yet, he refused to show any weakness. "Save your tears," he said, his voice cold. "You should have thought about all of this before letting yourself get pregnant." Thomas's face was hard as he spoke, his words meant to hurt you. "If you can't remember who the father is, then maybe you should go find out" he said, his voice cold and harsh. "It's not my responsibility to take care of a child that might not even be mine."

Thomas watched as you broke down, your tears falling freely. He remained stoic, not wanting to show any weakness. But a pang of guilt tugged at his heart as he realized how harsh his words were. He had taken you in when no one else would, and you had been fully loyal to him. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to admit his true feelings.

“If you don’t accept our child, I’m leaving!” You cried out as you headed towards the door.

Thomas's face darkened at your threat. "You think you can threaten me?" he said, his tone cold. "You have nowhere else to go. Do you really think anyone else will take you in once they find out you're having a bastard child?"

You had said nothing more, instead, you wiped your tears as you looked at him with pure hatred. You stormed out of his office and saying nothing more to him.

Thomas watched you storm out of his office, his expression stoic. But, inside, he was filled with a whirlwind of emotions. Seeing your tears stirred something in him, making him question his cruel words. But his pride and his stubbornness refused to let him follow you.

Thomas leaned back in his chair, a smug expression on his face. "She'll be back," he muttered to himself. "She has nowhere else to go. In a day or two, she'll come crawling back, begging me to forgive her."

However, suddenly Tommy had the thought of the family we could have been. He would never admit it because he was too ashamed but the vision was nice. The thought crept into Thomas's mind, uninvited and unwelcome. It was the image of a family with you, a child cradled in your arms. It was a scene that he hadn't dared to allow himself to imagine, but now, it was there, in his mind's eye. He tried to shake it off, but the vision wouldn't leave.

“She will come back” Thomas repeated the words to himself like a mantra, trying to convince himself that you would return. He tried to suppress the image of a family that had invaded his thoughts, but it lingered at the back of his mind. "She will come back," he muttered again, taking another drag from his cigarette.

Days passed, and you never returned to Thomas's office. Each day, he expected you to show up, hat in hand, begging for forgiveness. But each day, you remained absent. As the days turned into weeks, Thomas's smug expression faded, replaced with a growing sense of unease.

Polly, Thomas's sister, was growing increasingly concerned and frustrated with her brother. She had tried multiple times to convince him to look for you, but he insisted that you would come back on your own.

"Tommy, you can't just sit here and do nothing," Polly scolded him. "She's carrying your child! Have you no sense of responsibility? What if something happens to her Tommy?!”

Thomas scowled at his sister, his ego still ruling his actions. "She's a grown woman, she can take care of herself," he said, his voice cold and dismissive. "And it's not like I wanted this child in the first place."

“You tell yourself this lie, all the time but we all know how much you care for her Tommy. She’s out there all alone with your child and god knows what could happen to her!”

Thomas clenched his jaw, hearing the truth in his sister's words. He tried to deny it, to convince himself that he didn't care, but deep down, he knew it was a lie. He did care for you, more than he wanted to admit, and the thought of you out there alone, pregnant with his child, was gnawing at him.

But his pride and stubbornness held him back. He couldn't bring himself to admit his feelings, to admit that he was wrong. "I'm not going to go chasing after her like some damn lovesick puppy," he grumbled, his usual cold demeanor back in place.

Thomas tried to put on a display of indifference, but inside, he was starting to doubt his own words. The days were passing, and you hadn't shown up. The realization that you might not come back was slowly sinking in, no matter how much he denied it.

Polly saw the flicker of doubt in her brother's eyes, her concern growing stronger. "Are you sure about that, Tommy? You can't keep playing these games forever," she said, her voice soft but firm. "You need to take responsibility for your actions. That woman carries your child."

Tommy was about to argue with his sister again but was interrupted when his brother John entered the room, bursting in without a warning.

As soon as he saw John's expression, Thomas knew something was wrong. He stood up quickly, his demeanor changing from aloof to concerned. "What is it, John? What's wrong?"

“Tommy, you got to come quick! It’s Y/N” Tommy’s ears perked up when he heard John mention his name.

Tommy glanced at Polly, “I told you she would come back” His voice had a sense of smugness and Polly could only shake her head in disappointment.

As they both followed John to the living room, Tommy saw a crowd of the Peaky Blinders surrounding the long couch. As he got curious, he pushed past them and met with a horrible sight.

You did come back. Just not in the way Tommy had hoped.

Your body lay on the large couch in his mansion, it was stiff and not moving. There were patches of bruises everywhere, you were barely decent, and the dress that you wore was torn to pieces but luckily it covered the parts that mattered. Blood was slowly seeping into the couch, leaking out of the wound on your sides. Arthur who had looked traumatized, was holding onto a cloth to stop the bleeding, holding onto it like it was his life.

“She’s still alive, Tommy but barely. Isaiah found her on the side of the streets a couple of kilometers away from the Garrison” Arthur breathed out, feeling the pulse on your arm faint but there.

“Well, what the fuck are all of you doing? GET A FUCKING DOCTOR!” Thomas shouted at his gang members as everyone scattered, looking to find the best doctor in the whole country if they could. When everyone had fled, the only ones left in the room were both Thomas and Polly.

“What have you done, Tommy? This is all your fucking fault!” Polly cried out as she tried to tend to your unconscious body that was on the brink of death.

“S-Shut up, Poll. Shut up! Get a new fucking cloth! She’s bleeding too fucking much, someone fucking stabbed her” Tommy cried out, he had never been someone to show his emotions however in this situation he was crying and panicking as he caressed your hair. “Find out who fucking did this poll I’m gonna make them wish they were never fucking born!”

Thomas couldn't control the tears streaming down his face as he looked at you, his heart full of pain at the sight of your battered body.

“No, no, no,” Thomas choked out, tears streaming down his face as he kneeled beside you. "Please, don't leave me. I’m sorry, please my love... I’m sorry”

Thomas had stayed with you until finally, a renowned doctor arrived. Thomas remained vigilantly by your side as the doctor examined your injuries, assessing the extent of the damage. The room was eerily silent, filled only with the sound of the doctor's quiet mutterings and the occasional instruction given to one of the brothers.

Thomas watched as the doctor carefully tended to you, trying to hold back his growing sense of despair. His thoughts were filled with worry and self-recrimination, silently cursing himself for not being there to protect you.

“Mr. Shelby, her wounds are extremely severe and some of them are even internal... It will take a very long time to recover but I will try my best” Thomas was seething as he lifted the innocent man off the floor by his collar.

“You better make sure she’s fucking alive because if you fail, I’m going to fucking kill you” The doctor trembled as John stepped in and apologized to him for his brother’s behaviour.

“Tommy this man is the only chance you have to see her again, so you better fucking listen to him and calm the fuck down, alright?” John scolded.

Tommy took deep breathes as he tried to calm himself down. Thomas nodded, his expression grim. The news was not what he had hoped to hear, but he appreciated the doctor's honesty. "

What about the child?" he asked, his voice laced with both hope and fear.

“Child?” The doctor was confused and so was everyone inside the room except for Polly. Nobody had known you were pregnant with his child except for Polly, who you had told beforehand.

Thomas's eyes widened in shock. "Yes, the child," he reiterated, his voice growing more urgent. "My woman...she's pregnant."

Everybody stood in the room with shock written on their faces. Everybody knew the obvious affection Tommy had for you no matter how hard he tried to hide and deny it. But never in a million years would they hear him calling you ‘his woman’

The doctor checked for a second heartbeat inside your belly, as he looked at your unconcious body sadly. For some reason, he told everyone to leave the room, including Tommy himself.

“If everybody could leave, I need to check the condition of her pregnancy” Tommy wanted to protest but Polly pulled him out of the room either way.

Thomas felt a pang of anxiety as the doctor asked everyone to leave the room. He didn’t understand why he needed to leave but he also knew that this could mean something serious. With visible reluctance, he left the room, joining the others outside.

He watched through the window, his frustration mounting as he waited for news about the pregnancy. The tension in his body mirrored the turmoil in his heart.

The doctor called Tommy back in and this time, only he went with Polly but left everyone else outside.

“Mr. Shelby...” The doctor sighed sadly, “Your partner had insufficient blood flow due to her stab wounds... I’m sorry to tell you that the baby had passed”

The world seemed to stop for Tommy as the doctor's words sunk in. The news hit him like a punch to the stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. His mind was a swirling vortex of grief and shock.

"No," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "No, it can't be..."

As the doctor's words echoed in his mind, Tommy felt his world collapsing around him. The loss of the child hit him hard, the weight of grief crashing down upon his shoulders. He wanted to scream, to punch something, but all he could do was stand there trembling, his face etched with anguish.

"Why...?" he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "Why did this have to happen?"

“The fetus is still in her womb, I’m afraid I may need your permission to remove it so she wouldn’t have futher complications with her injury”

As Polly wept beside him, Tommy felt a pang of despair. He knew she blamed him and he couldn't, in that moment, deny that it was partially his fault. If he had been kinder, more attentive, maybe none of this would have happened. He remained silent, his heart breaking with every cry that escaped her.

The room was heavy with grief, the air thick with sorrow.

Tommy turned to his sister, his eyes dark with regret. "I know you blame me, and you're right to," he whispered. "I was a fool, Polly. A damn fool."

“I am angry but you are still my brother, all you can do now is give her all you can” Polly advised as he hugged Tommy so he could cry on her shoulders.

“I have to take the deceased fetus out of her womb, and I think you should do a burial, Mr. Shelby” The doctor remarked.

Tommy's expression hardened as the doctor mentioned the burial. The thought of having to lay his child to rest felt like another knife twisting in his heart. "Yes," he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll make the arrangements."

“I’m sorry but I need to warn you again, she is in critical condition. There’s a small chance she’ll survive”

Tommy's heart skipped a beat as the doctor spoke. A mixture of hope and fear battled within him. He clutched the doorframe tightly, his knuckles turning white. "What do you mean by 'small chance'?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Her wounds are all deeply infected, it is starting to spread internally. It could spread to her organs and it could all fail, Mr. Shelby”

Tommy felt a sharp pang of fear in his chest as the doctor's words sank in. The mention of infected wounds spreading internally to her organs sent a chill down his spine. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you, especially after everything that had happened.

“Just try your best” Thomas spat harshly as the doctor nodded.

You were transferred to the hospital to receive critical care.

Tommy felt nothing but regret. So much regret to the point where he felt like he would kill himself he lost you. He can’t live with that guilt.

The weeks passed slowly for Tommy. Each day felt like an eternity as he spent his time by your side, hoping for you to wake up. He barely slept, and barely ate, his sole focus on your recovery.

With each passing day, his anger and determination grew. He exacted his revenge on the men that hurt you, taking control of their territory and leaving no survivors. The blood on his hands was a stark reminder of his path of vengeance.

Tommy was sitting right beside your unconscious body, every day he hoped for you to wake up but you never did. Stuck in a coma from his own doings.

Polly walked into the room as she sighed, looking at his brother sadly, “It’s time, Tommy”

“Time for what, Pol?”

“She is not waking up anytime soon, Tommy”

Tommy's expression darkened. He already knew that, but hearing Polly say it out loud brought a wave of grief crashing over him once again. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing a weary hand over his face.

"I know," he muttered quietly. "I know she's not awake."

“I talked to Dr. Smith, she might not make it”

Tommy felt a pang of dread in his chest. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. The doctor's words echoed in his mind, a reminder of the harsh reality he was facing.

"He said 'might,'" Tommy replied, his voice tinged with a hint of defiance. "That means there's still a chance she could wake up."

“It’s time you say goodbye to her, love. You can’t keep her like this” Tommy's heart clenched at Polly's words. The thought of saying goodbye to you was like a dagger to the heart, but he knew that deep down, it was a possibility he might have to face.

He paused for a moment, warring with himself. "I can't," he whispered, his voice filled with grief and despair. "I can't say goodbye to her, Pol. Not yet."

“Then just tell her about how you feel because if she is truly gone, you will regret leaving things unsaid. Tommy” As Polly's words hung in the air, Tommy felt a rush of emotions he had long kept buried. She was right. There were things he had always wanted to say to you, things he had never dared to voice aloud.

Tommy looked down at his hands, his mind racing. He knew this might be his last chance to share his true feelings with you. He took a deep breath, summoning the courage.

"I'll talk to her, Pol," he whispered quietly.

Polly left the room the give her brother some space as he looked at your unconscious form. Seeing you lying there, so still and fragile, filled him with a sense of protectiveness and despair. He stepped closer, taking your hand in his.

His eyes traced the contours of your face, lingering on the faded scars left by your ordeal. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his fingers gently tracing the outline of your bruised cheeks.

Tommy's grip on your hand tightened as he began to speak, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry," he whispered fiercely. "For everything. For being an idiot. For hurting you. For not seeing how precious you were to me."

He paused, his throat tightening with emotion. Admitting his mistakes out loud, especially to you, was like revealing a vulnerability he had long kept hidden.

He continued, "I was a fool, love. A damn fool. I let my pride and my own insecurities blind me from what was right in front of me this whole time."

As the words spilled out of him, it was as if a dam had burst inside, freeing all the feelings he had kept carefully concealed for so long.

"You were my light," he murmured. "My rock in the storm. And I pushed you away, too blinded by my own anger and stupidity to see it."

Tommy's expression was one of deep anguish, his regret etched in every line on his face. He held your hand tighter, his thumb gently stroking your knuckles.

Tommy continued, his voice growing softer yet intense. "And god, love, I love you. I've always loved you, I think. From the moment I first laid eyes on you. But I was too bloody stubborn to acknowledge it, to admit it to you or even to myself."

He paused for a moment, his eyes locked on your face, silently praying for a sign, any sign, of your response.

As Tommy poured out his heart, he was too engrossed in his own thoughts and words to notice the slight movement of your fingers on your side. His focus was solely on you, on confessing his feelings and hoping that somehow, you would hear his words and respond.

"But I see it now, love. I see it all so clearly," he went on, his grip on your hand tight. "I love you. With all my heart, I love you."

He leaned closer, his voice becoming a whisper. "Please, love. Please wake up," he pleaded, his voice shaking. "I need you to hear me. I need you to know that I love you more than anything in this world."

Tommy's eyes searched your face for any sign of response, any indication that you were hearing him beneath your unconscious state.

Suddenly, Tommy could see your eyes fluttering.

At the sight of your eyelids fluttering open, Tommy's heart skipped a beat. He leaned in closer, his breath held in anticipation. "Love? Can you hear me, love?" he asked, his voice filled with hopeful awe.

“Tommy?”

To be continued...

A/N: HEHEHE HOW WAS THAT? Sorry for the cliffhanger I need your opinion on the story! So please drop me a comment or ask because your constructive criticism would really help!

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