#He’s my only friend and I’m a repressed idiot

[fucknugg3t]

sometimes you fuck up and people stay

[say-al0e]

Just Friends

Rating: M | This is smut, minors, DNI! No one under 18!

Summary: Everyone seems to think you’re Jake Seresin’s girl. It’s easier than explaining to them that you’re just friends with benefits. But that arrangement doesn’t seem to be working for either of you anymore. | Ft. “No, you idiot. I’m in love with you.” + “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” requested by anonymous and “You matter to me, you asshole.” + “I think you were put on this earth for the sole purpose of being a pain my ass.” requested by @dreamlandcreations

Warnings: Miscommunication, idiots FWB to lovers, fear of unrequited feelings, jealous!Jake, therapist Bradley, unprotected PinV. (I think that’s it but let me know and I’ll tag anything else)

Pairing: Hangman x fem!Reader

Word Count: 9.3k (....sorry)

Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

The Hard Deck was, as it always seemed to be on Friday nights, packed to the rafters. A sea of khaki greeted you the moment you stepped inside with Jake following close behind but, for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t dressed to match. Instead, he’d opted for a pair of jeans, a button-down you’d stolen on more than one occasion, and boots that had seen better days - though he had to be talked out of the cowboy hat, less to protect him from ridicule and more to protect your sanity. However, he still managed to blend into the crowd as you weaved your way through to the bar.

Jake remained close, as he always did, and kept a hand on the small of your back as he nodded his greeting to the handful of familiar faces he came across. The heat from his body bled through the thin material of his shirt - he always seemed to run hotter than the average, warm to the touch on even the coldest of days - and you could feel it warming your skin as he took a half-step closer to allow someone to pass.

Only one stool remained at the bar, the others occupied with the beginning of the night’s rush, and Jake pulled it out for you with a wink and a grin when you squeezed his bicep in thanks.

“Are there more people than usual or have I just not been in in a while?”

The question went unheard by those sitting closest to you, drowned out by the noise of a group cheering in the corner, but he heard you clearly. He leaned in, breath fanning over your neck - the scent of mint gum and that woodsy cologne filling your nose, sending a shiver down your spine that you worked to repress lest he notice - as he laughed quietly. “See, sweets, this is what happens when you avoid going out with me,” he teased, grinning when you rolled your eyes.

Avoiding Jake Seresin was the last thing on your mind. If anything, you’d gotten into a bad habit of altering plans just to spend more time with him and he knew that. Still, you huffed petulantly and shifted to lean against the bar. “If you want to blame anyone, blame my boss.”

Jake waved a hand, teasing, dismissive, and shook his head as he met your gaze. There was an easy amusement in his eyes, dancing across the sharp planes of his face, and you forced yourself to draw in even breaths even as you felt your heart rate skyrocket. “Excuses, excuses,” he drawled, biting back a laugh when you rolled your eyes at him, now second nature, regardless of how difficult it still was to think with his full attention on you. “But I’ll let you have it. Tonight, anyway.”

“How generous of you, Hangman.” It was deadpan, a stoic jab he’d heard a thousand times over, but you couldn’t help yourself as you raised a teasing brow. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a damn saint?”

Another laugh, this one a little louder and drawing the attention of a handful of nearby service members, escaped Jake as he shifted his hand to squeeze your side. The heat of his palm bled through the thin material of your top, sank into your skin and branded his touch into your memory, but you refused to dwell as you focused on his reply. “What can I say, sugar? I’m a giver.”

Despite his reputation - narcissistic, selfish asshole - Jake was, indeed, a giver. He prided himself on giving just as good as he got, if not better, and you were grateful to be on the receiving end. Still, the innuendo made your face heat and had you glancing over your shoulder, just to see if anyone had heard.

With another roll of your eyes, you nudged his side but said nothing. There were moments Jake flustered you silent, struck you quiet with a quick retort, and the thought of his selflessness - in the form of that handsome face pressed between your thighs - had you ducking your head as Jake laughed. He shifted closer, trying to move out of the way, and you sighed quietly as you spared a glance around the bar.

There was no question what you and Jake looked like to anyone who glanced your way - to the table of women who’d clocked Jake the moment he stepped through the door, the group clad in flight suits who’d eyed you as you crossed the room - or anyone who overheard a snippet of your conversation.

The protective hand he kept on you, snug at the small of your back; the way he lingered at your side, body angled toward you, rather than toward the crowd; the way he tipped his head down, pressing himself even closer in an effort to hear you over the din of the bar - the implication was clear. You looked like any other couple, out for a night of drinks with friends, and you only wished it were that simple.

Nothing ever was, especially not when it came to Jake, so you refused to allow yourself to dwell on that thought. You’d resigned yourself to your fate - doomed to be little more than friends with benefits, comfortable with casual intimacy until you began to consider your feelings - and figured Jake didn’t give your situation any thought at all.

Pulling you out of your distraction, Jake nudged your side and tipped his head toward the pool tables in the corner.

Spotting the rest of the group was always easy - they rarely strayed far from the pool tables by the windows, usually busying themselves with a game as they decompressed - and you returned their greetings with a grin and a wave of your own.

Penny, who was manning the bar alone for the time being, shot you both a smile as she placed the same bottle of beer Jake usually ordered on the counter in front of you. It would be a few minutes before she made her way to you, if the crowd was any indication, and you could feel Jake shifting at your side. 

This wasn’t the first time you’d accompanied him to the Hard Deck - you ended up by Jake’s side in the little bar more often than you cared to admit - and had a routine. “I’ll be fine, Jake,” you assured him, laughing as you caught him glancing at the pool table. You turned just in time to see Javy tip his head in invitation, urging Jake to join him in a game against another set of pilots, and nudged his side. “Go ahead. I’m gonna get a drink and people watch. I’ll make my way over eventually.”

Just as he always did, Jake eyed you for a moment, clearly debating being chivalrous. He would offer to remain by your side, wait with you for Penny to make your drink, and guide you over to the pool table to hang out with the others, but you always nudged him away.

When you cut your eyes at him, he relented. “Alright,” he acquiesced, lifting his hands in mock defeat, though he still managed to grin. “I’m going. You need me, you know where to find me.” When you nodded, acknowledging the same declaration he gave every time, he turned his attention to Penny. “Penny, m’dear, her drinks are on me.” She knew that by now - had been given the same instruction at least every other Friday for nearly a year - but still nodded, acknowledging Jake’s insistence.

With that, Jake nodded and squeezed your side gently before heading for the group.

From the bar, you were able to catch sight of the group as he approached and laughed as Rooster pointed at the boots Jake wore with raised brows. Through the din, you weren’t able to make out the comment but knowing the pair, you figured it was a dig at Jake’s fashion sense. True to your assumption, the pair began to trade good-natured jabs and you shook your head as you turned your attention elsewhere.

In the beginning, when Jake first invited you to join him at the Hard Deck - back when you could confidently tell the others that you were just friends, back when you believed that yourself - finding your place amongst the crowd seemed next to impossible.

The bar, once overwhelming and far too busy for someone used to less populated divers, was now familiar. Many of the faces were now ones you knew, ones you’d seen a dozen times over, and most of them would even greet you alongside Jake now. You often marveled at how quickly it seemed to become something akin to a home base, beloved and revered and a highlight of your week, but the thought never lasted longer than a moment. The Hard Deck was part of your life now, just as Jake was, and you weren’t one to question it.

Questions, in general, weren’t asked outright.

Though people stopped to speak with you occasionally, no one ever asked about your relationship status - no one outside of the group of friends Jake managed to make, anyway - and no one needed to. Just friends or not, it was clear to anyone who glanced your way that you were Jake Seresin’s girl.

Knowing that everyone saw you as Jake’s girl eased some of the weight pressing on your chest. It made it a little easier to breathe, made you feel a little more secure as you sat at the bar, but that feeling never lasted very long. It didn’t matter much what everyone else thought, not when you knew different. You weren’t his girl, not really, and that hurt more than you cared to admit.

The little moments, hallmarks of a relationship, were the ones that got you the most.

Jake had no problem placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you through the crowd or throwing an arm over your shoulders in a brief greeting when you joined him near the pool table, but that was as far as PDA went. 

Not being able to wander over to him, press a kiss to his shoulder, his jaw, the corner of his mouth as he stood with a pool cue and a beer in hand; not being able to warp your arms around his waist and lean fully into him, lose yourself in the weight of his arm wrapped around your shoulders or the feel of his hand in yours; not being able to love him in the way you so desperately wanted, eager to show him just how deeply you cared, made your chest ache in a way that was growing all too familiar.

It was growing all too difficult to keep up with the charade. Pretending that you were fine with the arrangement you made before you really got to know Jake - before you fell in love with him - seemed to be getting harder by the day but there wasn’t much you could say without losing him entirely. 

And when it came to Jake, you were used to being halfway happy.

There would come a time when halfway happy wasn’t enough, you knew that. But you hadn’t figured out how to live a life without him yet. The vast majority of your free time was spent with him - tucked into his sheets, his body between your thighs; lying on your couch, watching some shitty movie in one of his t-shirts as he lounged in sweats; sitting on the beach, sand covering your entire body and crashing of waves replacing the sound of his soft moans in your ears - and you knew that life without him would be an adjustment.

For now, however, you refused to dwell on what that might look like.

However, as hard as you tried to brush that thought away - the thought that one day, maybe soon, you’d be forced to live a life without Jake Seresin in it - it continued to plague you as you sat at the bar. The crowd shifted around you and you watched, eyes skimming the crowd but not truly seeing, as service members came and went.

The seat beside you had been empty for a while but you really only noticed when a new body filled the void to your right and knocked a knee into yours.

Bradley Bradshaw smiled at you, that soft half-smile he used when he wasn’t quite sure how to approach, before glancing at Penny and raising a hand for her to bring him another beer. When the bottle was placed in front of him, he turned back to you.

“Long time no see,” he began, smile growing a touch more real when you met his eyes. “Where’s Hangman been hiding you?”

A scoff, practiced and easy - hopefully enough to hide the dark cloud that had formed above your head - escaped before you took a sip from your now watered-down drink. “He wishes it was that easy to get rid of me,” you joked, smiling slightly when Bradley laughed. “I’ve just been busy. Work’s been kind of insane.”

Bradley hummed thoughtfully, considering your statement, before taking a sip of his beer. “Explains why Hangman’s been more annoying than usual lately.” The comment was teasing, a jab you’d heard more than once - most of the Dagger Squad claimed that Jake was more manageable with you around - but Bradley gave you no time to dismiss the thought as he continued, “Glad you were able to get out tonight, though.”

The group had been nothing but kind to you, welcoming in a way you hadn’t expected, and your smile grew a little wider as you nodded. “Yeah,” you agreed readily, “me, too.” Even if you’d driven yourself to distraction, thinking about what may never be, you were truly happy to be back at the Hard Deck. Still, you decided to shift the conversation to Bradley. “How’re you? I’ve heard this first class is… challenging.”

Jake didn’t speak of work often but he’d taken to venting some of his frustration with you, occasionally sharing his annoyance as you lounged in your living room, and you knew that their first class of Top Gun recruits was not the cakewalk they’d imagined. Bradley’s wince seemed to confirm Jake’s assessment.

“I know I wasn’t a saint when I was going through it,” he began, sparing a glance over his shoulder at a group of pilots in the corner, “but I don’t think I was ever that cocky.”

“I’m willing to bet Jake was.”

If the comment surprised Bradley, he didn’t let it show. Instead, he laughed and nodded his agreement easily. “Yeah, he was. Hasn’t changed much, either,” he pointed out, eying him where he stood near the dartboard with Coyote. You knew that it wasn’t exactly a negative observation - Jake and Bradley had grown to be friends, truly fond of one another, despite their differences - and smiled as he returned his attention to you. “Some of these kids are going to give him a run for his money, though.”

“Another Hangman? Yikes. How will the Navy survive?”

Bradley hid his grin behind his beer as he shrugged. “We may never know.”

The conversation tapered off then, a comfortable silence falling over the pair of you as the crowd continued to thrive around you. As Bradley turned his attention to the group of friends he’d wandered away from, you spared a glance at Jake. He hadn’t seemed to notice your new companion yet - or didn’t care enough to glance your way - and the thought made you sigh before returning your attention to Bradley.

It was no secret that Bradley Bradshaw was beautiful. His beauty was different than Jake’s - a little less polished, a little rougher around the edges - and there was a certain charm to him that drew people in. Some days, you wondered what life might’ve been like had you met any of the others before Jake managed to sweep you off your feet, but that wasn’t a thought you ever let run very far.

Like it or not, Jake Seresin had you in his clutches. You were in love and there was little you could do to change that.

Still, Bradley seemed to read the look on your face and laughed quietly. A wry smile twisted his lips as he took a pull from his beer. “No offense,” he began as he spared you a sideways glance, “you’re beautiful and if you were here with anyone other than Hangman, I wouldn’t hesitate. But I don’t feel like fighting him. Today, anyway.”

As Bradley glanced over his shoulder, in the direction of the dartboard, you allowed your gaze to follow. This time, Jake was already eying you and the expression on his face was unreadable, a stoic mask that you weren’t in the mood to decipher. He hadn’t given you that look in months and you had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn’t be giving you that look were it not for your company.

With a sigh, you returned your attention to the drink in front of you - now melted ice and a hint of vodka. “We’re just friends,” you explained, though the declaration sounded weak in your own ears, hollow and rehearsed, and you were unable to look him in the eye. You weren’t sure who you were really trying to convince; him or yourself.

“Does he know that?” When you tipped your head to fix him with an unimpressed look, Bradley raised a hand in mock defense. “Look, Hangman’s a lot of things - an ass, mostly - but he’s not subtle.”

A snort of agreement - undignified but honest - escaped with a nod. Jake Seresin didn’t believe in subtlety and you were a firsthand witness. Though, that was at least part of the reason you were certain friendship was the only offer on the table.

“Subtle he is not,” you agreed, swirling your glass just for something to occupy your hands, “and he has made it very clear that he’s not interested in a relationship. So, just friends. With benefits.”

“When was the last time you talked about it? Because, I’ll be honest, on that first night, none of us thought we’d see you again. But then you came back,” he reminded you, expression as serious as you’d ever seen it. “It’s been nearly a year. Even when you’re not here with him, he’s with us or Coyote, doesn’t even look at anyone else. We’ve all seen the change in him,” Bradley admitted, knee knocking into yours to get your undivided attention. “There’s more to you and we can all see it. We get Hangman but you get Jake.”

Realistically, there was no reason for Bradley to lie to you. There was no way he could know the fantasy you were certain only existed in the depths of your mind. You considered him a friend - an acquaintance, at least - but you weren’t close enough for him to feel the need to protect your feelings. There was no reason for him to tell you what you wanted to hear but that did little to calm the churning in the pit of your stomach.

The thought that Jake Seresin could love you in the way you loved him, that he could truly want you - all of you, not just the parts that were convenient - seemed impossible. Too good to be true, even.

“Y’know, if flying doesn’t work out, you could make a hell of a therapist.” Bradley fixed you with an unimpressed look, accompanied by a disappointed tilt of his head, at your deflection. “Fine,” you sighed. It was clear that he wouldn’t be swayed, convinced that he was doing you and Jake a favor, so you gave in to the line of conversation. “Sure, I get Jake, but not all of him. I get just enough to break my heart and, honestly, I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Bradley.”

“I try to avoid talking to Hangman at length,” Bradley joked. That was true once upon a time, though things had changed since the first Dagger mission. You knew he wouldn’t be trying so hard unless he truly cared about him - about you both - but the joke still pulled a small smile to your lips as he nudged your knee once more. “You can’t, though. That’s only setting you both up for hurt.”

“Alright, Dr. Bradshaw,” you teased, though it sounded weak in your own ears. Bradley rolled his eyes and you relented with a nod. “Yeah. You’re right, I know. I just… I don’t want to ruin what we’ve got. It’s better than nothing.”

“For now,” he reminded you before sparing a glance over his shoulder. When you followed his gaze, it landed squarely on Jake who was eying the pair of you with a look that you didn’t like very much. It was harder than it had been only moments before, darker. The set of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes, the thin line of his lips - it was a look you’d only seen a handful of times and it tied your stomach in knots. “Looks like you’ll have plenty to talk about tonight, anyway.”

Bradley had the decency to hide his amusement with a pull from his beer as you huffed. “I really don’t like that look.”

“In his defense,” Bradley began, lifting himself from his stool, “I’m pretty sure it’s directed at me, not you.” He shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the weight of Jake’s gaze on his every move, and offered you a final smile as he reached for the new beer Penny left in place of his empty bottle. “Believe it or not, Hangman really is better when he’s with you. He’s tolerable, almost. And I think you’ll both be happier when you talk about it.”

“Yeah.” Another sigh, this one resigned to the fact that your night would end with a conversation you weren’t sure you were ready to have, before you shot him a half-hearted smile. “Thanks, Bradley.”

With a nod and a tap to the bar, Bradley turned to make his way back to the pool table. You could see the question in Phoenix’s eyes - in the raise of her brow when he returned - but didn’t bother keeping an eye on the conversation as your attention returned fully to Jake.

The moment Bradley wandered away, Jake pressed the remaining darts into Coyote’s hands and made his way through the crowd. He stood close, body radiating a heat that you usually found so comforting, and you nearly held your breath as he offered Penny his card to settle what had to be the smallest tab he’d ever started.

Green eyes, alight with an annoyance that told you Bradley was right - there would, indeed, be a conversation of some type before the night’s end - met yours. Instead of calming the rapid beat of your heart, it only seemed to send you spiraling further when he pressed a hand to the small of your back.

“You looked like you were having fun.”

It was casual - almost dismissive - the way he said it, but you could feel the ice in his comment chilling you to the core. Try as he might to feign nonchalance, you knew him. You could read the acid behind the charming smile he wore and swallowed hard.

This was his way of picking a fight - just as he had the first time a stranger at the Hard Deck hit on you, just as he had the last time a stranger at another bar stood a little too close - and you were in no mood to indulge him. You weren’t interested in admitting you hadn’t really considered anyone else a possibility in months, that you hadn’t even really looked at anyone else since beginning your relationship with him.

Instead, you brushed his hand away and stood from your stool before beginning to nudge your way out of the bar.

There was no doubt Jake was on your heels, so close your could still smell his cologne, but you didn’t dare spare him a glance until you reached the passenger side of his vehicle. When you turned to glance at him, shoulders slumped and backs of your eyes stinging with traitorous tears, the frown on his face drew a weary sigh.

“I’m tired, Jake,” you lied, arms folding over your chest. “Just take me home, please.”

Jake’s hands flexed, desperate to keep himself calm - and to keep himself from falling into the habit of reaching for you, tugging you into his chest and kissing you breathless with the intent of reminding you just whose name sounded best on the tip of your tongue. “I’m sure Rooster would have no problem taking you home. Why don’t you ask him?”

The sneer was unsurprising. Jake’s tried and true tactic in response to any kind of hurt - real or perceived - remained a sharp remark, designed to cut deep and you could feel your own weariness being replaced by annoyance. It tasted bitter, harsh and unfamiliar, as you shook your head. 

“We were just talking.” It took considerable effort to keep your voice even, devoid of the anger you knew he was hoping to draw, but you managed as you met his gaze head on.

Jake scoffed, wholly unconvinced, and smiled that sardonic smile that made you understand why so many people seemed to dislike Hangman - a persona you were fortunate enough to have been beyond. That wasn’t Jake, not the one you knew, and you reminded yourself of that, even as he declared, “Sure didn’t look like it from where I was standing.”

“I don’t know what you think you saw, Jake, but I wasn’t flirting with Bradley.” The assertion was strong, confident, and accompanied by a glare you hoped would hurt him as much as he was hurting you. “But, honestly,” you began, words spilling into the night air before you could think twice, “so what if I was? I can flirt with whoever I want because we’re just friends. Right?”

A twitch of his jaw, the slightest gesture but telling, was the only reaction you managed to pull from him. Instead, he shut down and that stoic mask - a front, hiding the raging sea that still swirled in the depths of his eyes - returned as he reached for the door handle. “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it."

“Then what are we, Jake?” The question was quiet, nearly lost to the crashing of waves, and Jake gave no indication that he’d heard you outside of another tic of his jaw.

No answer was offered, no insight into what ran through his head. Instead, Jake pulled open the passenger door and tipped his chin toward the seat. “Get in.”

While silence with Jake was not uncommon, it had never been uncomfortable. You’d gotten into the habit of spending the odd night together, lying in silence as you both read or scrolled through your phones in the afterglow of sex, but it was comfortable. There was never a weight to it but the silence that lingered on the ride to your place pressed on your chest and constricted your lungs.

Tension, thick and blinding, filled the car, even as Jake pulled into your driveway and shut off the engine. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, both staring straight ahead and attempting to gather your thoughts. You were tempted to go inside, leaving Jake behind, and calling it a night. But you couldn’t help yourself.

“You matter to me, you asshole,” you reminded him, voice a whisper in the darkness. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah? Rooster matter to you, too?”

The lack of venom in the question told you that he didn’t mean it. It was a reflex, his go-to when he felt cornered - likely by the realization that tonight would not end the way either of you imagined it would - and you wanted to give him grace. But this had become more frequent lately, a bitter end to nice nights, and had been working your nerves. Combined with the acrid taste of reality you’d doused yourself with earlier in the night, you couldn’t bite your tongue.

With a shake of your head, you unbuckled your seatbelt and turned to look at Jake. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? Jesus, sometimes I think you were put on this earth for the sole purpose of being an asshole.” When Jake rolled his eyes, scoffing at the comment, you huffed. “Everyone can see that I’m in love with you, you dickhead. Bradley was trying to convince me that I should say something because it’s been so obvious to everyone but you for nearly a year and I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay with just being friends with benefits.”

Jake Seresin was not one to doubt himself, nor was he one to doubt the intentions of others. His romantic exploits had given him a great deal of confidence in navigating conversations about lust or even infatuation, but a confession of love was, undoubtedly, not something he’d been expecting to hear. For just a moment, you could see a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he blinked and shook his head. “You don’t mean that.”

It was clear that he hadn’t been loved in a long while - not by a partner, someone not obligated to love him through blood or shared trauma - and your heart broke as you watched him attempt to process the implication. What you had was safe, a way for him to keep his walls in tact while experiencing a modicum of the affection he so desperately wanted, but it wasn’t enough.

For either of you, it seemed.

Beneath the doubt, the surprise, lingered a glimmer of something bright. You refused to believe that it could be hope - because hope was the thing that would kill you - but you were in too deep to end the conversation there. So, you nodded.

“Yeah, I do. I’m in love with you. I know the lines have blurred in the last few months and a label doesn’t change much but, fuck, I can’t keep doing this. I can’t deal with not knowing where I stand with you. I can’t deal with being called your girl but knowing I’m really not. I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay playing house when I can’t even confidently tell my family about you.” With a sigh, you shook your head and admitted, “Half-happy isn’t enough for me anymore, Jake.”

Jake remained silent for a moment, statue still in the driver’s seat, but you could see the emotions flickering in his eyes. A part of you wanted to beg him to speak, to tell you to leave or that he was flattered but it would never work or that he was sorry to have lead you on, but you remained quiet and allowed him to process. And after the longest few moments of your life - in reality, no more than a minute or two - he lifted a warm hand to cup your jaw.

As if in slow motion, Jake leaned over the console and pressed his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. Though you’d kissed him more times than you could count over the last year, this kiss was unlike any other you’d shared. It was rough, passionate and clumsy with a lack of finesse Jake usually possessed, but it spoke volumes. His fingers pressed into the hinge of your jaw, lips warm and searching as he gave himself fully to the embrace.

The warmth of him, overwhelming in the small space, bled into your skin and sent a shiver down your spine as you allowed yourself a moment to indulge. The kiss felt like a goodbye - only comparable to the one you’d shared before Jake left for a weeklong mission - and you weren’t sure if you’d get another.

“Jake, stop,” you mumbled against his mouth, shifting your head as best you could to break the kiss. Despite the hold he kept on you, he allowed you to pull away and remained close as you tipped your head to search his face. There was no hint of what he was feeling, though you took a moment to commit the look to memory - the flushed cheeks, the ruddy lips, the bright eyes - before sighing. “You can’t get out of this conversation with sex.”

“We’re not just friends,” he repeated, voice so soft it made your chest ache. It was a tone you’d only heard once before, in the dim of your bedroom the night he returned, and it was accompanied by a softening of his features as he smoothed a thumb across your cheekbone. “You know it, and so do I.”

Hope, the thing you’d so desperately avoided for so long in relation to Jake Seresin, began to bloom in the pit of your stomach as soft eyes searched your face. That didn’t sound like a goodbye - in fact, it sounded more like a greeting, a welcome to feelings you’d both avoided breathing aloud - but you needed him to say it.

“Jake.” The murmur of his name was pleading, a desperate request for him to confirm that he shared your feelings, and it made him shift just a little closer.

“I’m in love with you, too,” he confirmed, corner of his mouth kicking up in a soft smile as you exhaled. The admittance felt like a jolt of adrenaline and you were half-certain you’d misheard him. But he doubled down and continued, “I have been for months.”

A warmth spread throughout your limbs, bright and burning hot, as you searched his face for any hint of deceit. Jake wouldn’t lie, not about this, but you were still cautious as you leaned into his touch.

Realistically, you knew that Jake had to have felt something for you. You’d been together for months in everything but name - starting with the first night he slept over - but to hear him confirm he felt the same, that he loved you, too, was almost too much. You’d spent so long telling yourself there was no way, that Jake couldn’t want you in the same way you wanted him, that you needed to hear him say it once more.

“Tell me again.”

Jake smiled, eyes bright even in the dim light filtering in through the window, as he leaned in. “I love you,” he repeated, lips brushing yours and breath fanning across your cheek.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” The question escaped before you could stop it, necessary to ask but not one you’d pictured bringing up so soon. Jake, however, seemed to have expected it.

“We said no strings,” he reminded you, shrugging slightly. “Even without them, we were’t seeing other people so I thought you knew and were happy with where we were. You said everyone knew you were in love with me. They knew I was in love with you, too.”

It was as if his answer should’ve been obvious, known to everyone but the two of you, and you realized that Bradley’s insistence you talk to Jake was coming from a place of knowledge rather than intuition. You were Jake’s girl and there was no reason to question it - it was fact, easily seen by anyone who happened to glance, but easy to miss when you were so caught up in your own head.

Still, you couldn’t help but ask, “Then why have you been such an ass lately? More than usual, anyway.”

Despite the huff of laughter that escaped, Jake’s smile quickly fell into a frown as his thumb brushed your cheekbone. He paused for a moment, seeming to consider his answer, before he sighed. His eyes searched your face, for what you weren’t sure. “This year has been pretty calm,” he began, frown deepening. “I’m usually gone, out of touch for months. I can’t give you what you deserve and I was waiting for you to figure that out. We weren’t seeing other people but there was never a conversation saying we couldn’t.”

“You were jealous?”

A small part of you expected him to deny it - to scoff and insist that Jake Seresin was immune to jealousy - but you could see the hint of insecurity in his eyes. The walls were crumbling in real time, shattering to pieces and baring the depths of his soul, and you couldn’t say you were surprised to see him shrug.

“More like I was just waiting for you to end things, realize a relationship wouldn’t work and move on with someone who could make you happy.”

Jake’s admission told you more than you imagined he intended. Though he’d had his fair share of experience before you, it was clear that very few of his relationships had been more serious than a brief affair. And for all his bravado, his esteem had taken a hit. He saw himself as enough to bed, enough to ogle, but not enough to love and you could feel the ache in your chest grow more prominent as you lifted your own hand to cup his cheek.

The warmth of his skin bled into your palm and you blinked back the sting of tears as Jake turned his head just enough to press a kiss to your palm. “I haven’t even considered anyone else since we met. I know it’s not always going to be easy but it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

As soon as you finished speaking, Jake surged forward and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was enough to steal your breath, to express the words he couldn’t quite speak just yet, and you sank into it fully. The seatbelt buckle dug into your skin, uncomfortable but tolerable as you focused on Jake’s touch, and you knew that this was where you were meant to be.

“Come inside,” you urged the moment Jake broke the kiss. Breathless and warm, you knew where the night was headed and didn’t want to lose yourself in the confines of the car.

Jake grinned at your invitation, eyes glittering with an amusement you’d missed, as he pulled away and unbuckled his own seatbelt. “You gonna let me?”

The double entendre was one you’d brought upon yourself but you still rolled your eyes fondly as you headed for the front door. “I hate you,” you called over your shoulder, laughing as he followed you into your home.

“No, you don’t. You love me,” he gloated, countenance brighter than you’d seen it in months as he pushed the door shut and locked it behind him.

“Why, I’ll never know.” 

It was teasing, a taunt that made Jake roll his eyes, but he refused to let it linger as he reached out and gripped your hips. Jake pulled you close, body pressed to yours against the front door, and tipped his head to brush his lips against yours. “Why don’t we put that mouth to better use, sweetheart,” he proposed, smirking as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Jake gave you no chance to respond. He leaned in and pressed his mouth to yours once more, captured your lips in a searing kiss that lit a flame to the already smoldering embers of arousal settling in the pit of your stomach. His fingers dug into the skin of your hips, pulled you as close as he could manage, and you knew there would be a reminder of his touch left in the morning.

The kiss tasted of mint and a hint of alcohol, achingly familiar in a way you never expected to love, and stole your breath as his hands slipped beneath the hem of your top. As his fingers skated across your skin, calloused and warm, he began to wander backward in the direction of your bedroom.

As many times as you’d done this, making the trek to your room was easy. You managed to avoid causing any damage - to your furniture or yourselves - and only broke the kiss the moment you stepped through the doorway.

Jake was always a sight to behold, golden and beautiful in even the worst moments, but there was something about him in moments like this that made you want nothing more than to observe him. There was a hint of pink dusting the tops of his cheeks, his lips ruddy and kiss swollen, and his hair mussed from your fingers raking through it.

“You can take a picture if you want,” he teased, grinning as he reached for the hem of your top. “Give you something to get off to when I’m away.”

“Fuck off,” you huffed, though it lacked venom entirely as you allowed him to strip the garment and toss it into a corner. “How do you want me?”

“You’re letting me choose? Damn, you must really love me.” Jake laughed at the look you shot him - unimpressed, though it was a struggle to hide your amusement - and knocked your hand away from the button of your jeans. “Hands off. That’s my job.” As the denim fell to the floor, exposing you to his hungry gaze, he whistled lowly. “Fuck, sugar, you get better every time. Lie back for me. I wanna take my time with you.”

With Jake, there was never any shame. He made you feel wanted, desired in a way no one else had, and you reveled in the feeling of his gaze roving your skin. He knew every inch of you, had been privy to this view more times than you could count, but something about the look in his eyes made you feel truly seen. It was as if he were looking at you for the first time all over again and you offered him a sultry smile as you settled onto the bed.

“It’s not fair I’m nearly naked and you’re fully clothed. Lose the jeans, cowboy.” Jake grinned at your order, however teasing it was, and readily shucked off his button-down and jeans. Just as he had, you let out a low whistle and winked when he approached the foot of the bed. “I hate to boost your ego but, Jesus, you’re hot.”

Jake didn’t bother responding. Instead, he climbed onto the bed and settled above you, caging you between his arms and grinning when you shuddered at the feeling of his heated skin meeting yours. He was careful not to settle his full weight onto you, only pressed enough to feel him, and leaned in to ghost kisses along the curve of your jaw.

Warm hands skated across your exposed skin, fingers tracing a path of fire down your arm, across your stomach, along the band of your panties, as he pressed his mouth to the pulse point just below your ear. There was little doubt he could feel the way your heart hammered beneath his lips, racing with every shift of his body, and you could feel his mouth curve into a smirk as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric of your panties.

“What d’you want, sweets? All you gotta do is ask, and I’ll give it to you,” he promised, calloused fingers skating along the top of your mound.

Every twitch of his fingers sent a shiver down your spine, had your heart rate doubling and set your skin alight. He was so close to where you wanted him and you knew that this time, he would give in the moment you asked. As your fingers threaded in his hair, nails raking through the mussed strands, you shifted your hips and sighed.

“Touch me, please.” The plea was soft, whispered in his ear as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, and you could feel the warmth of his breath as he exhaled heavily. When he didn’t move, fingers still against your skin, you whispered the words you knew would set him in motion. “Always make me feel so good,” you praised, one hand falling to his shoulder as your nails lightly scraped across his skin. “No one else could ever compare.”

“Damn right.” The praise, as expected, spurred him on. Jake’s hand slipped lower, fingers gliding through the slick between your thighs, and he groaned at the feeling. “Fuck, so wet, sugar. Just for me?”

“Always for you,” you confirmed, nails digging into his shoulder as his thumb brushed your aching clit. “Only for you.”

A soft sigh escaped as Jake coated his fingers in your slick, mouth pressed to your skin as he nipped at the delicate skin of your throat, and you could feel his cock twitch against your thigh. He knew exactly how to press your buttons, how to push you over the edge with only a few swipes of his fingers or tongue, and you arched into the feeling of his mouth traveling lower as he pressed his fingers into your entrance.

Jake trailed kisses down the column of your throat, across the delicate skin of your collarbone, and winked when he reached your breasts. He nipped at the soft skin, just enough to send a jolt down your spine, before he continued his descent. When he reached the band of your panties, he took the material between his teeth and began to tug, only removing his fingers from your center to rid you of the material.

Before you could whine at the loss, Jake gripped your thighs and parted them just enough to shoulder his way between them. He pressed himself as close as he could, placed one of your thighs over his shoulder, and turned his head to mouth at the soft skin of your thigh as his fingers returned to your center.

Every drag of his fingers was purposeful, slow and deliberate and designed to have you seeing stars, and you could feel the band in the pit of your stomach growing taut as his thumb circled your clit. Those eyes, blown black with lust, lifted to your face as your fingers threaded in his hair once more, and you nearly came from the sight alone.

Having Jake between your thighs, fingers dripping your slick and focus entirely on your pleasure, was more of a power trip than anything you’d ever experienced. Every nerve ending felt like a live wire, jolts of pleasure shooting down your spine as his fingers pressed deeper and deeper, and you could only manage to cry out his name as the first orgasm - of many, you were sure - washed over you.

“There we go, sweets,” he encouraged, breath fanning over your center and making you cry out, “look so fucking pretty when you fall apart for me. Can I have a taste?”

Despite the aftershocks, the tension in your thighs and the difficulty you seemed to have finding the words to convey your pleasure, you used the grip on his hair to tug his face closer to your center. Luckily, you’d been here before - knew one another well enough to speak without words - and Jake took your answer for what it was worth.

Jake’s mouth was sinful and you could feel him smirk at the moan that filled your room as he swiped his tongue through your folds. He returned the noise, groaning at the taste of you, and gripped your thighs to tug you closer. The feeling of his fingers, slick with your release, pressing into your skin coupled with the broad swipes of his tongue, desperate to push you over the edge once more, sent your pulse skyrocketing as you tugged his hair and ground your hips in search of relief.

The pleasure was overwhelming, all-consuming in the most perfect of ways, and you knew that he would spend his night between your thighs, if you let him. His nose brushed your clit with every tilt of his head, tongue lapping at the release you’d already given him, and you could see stars bursting behind your eyelids as he doubled down on his ministrations and returned his fingers to your center.

That second orgasm - truly, a continuation of the first as he hadn’t let you come down - had your back arching from the bed and your fingers gripping Jake’s hair, just a little too tight. He pressed his free hand to your hip, eager to keep you in place, and hummed as he lapped at the release you gave him.

While you knew he would keep going, push you to a third release with his mouth and fingers if you let him, you used your grip on his hair to weakly tug him away as the stimulation began to grow overwhelming. Your thighs shook beneath his hands and your breath came in heaving pants, unable to fill your lungs quick enough, and Jake grinned as he lifted his head.

“Tastes like heaven,” he declared, laughing only when you huffed a breathless noise of amusement. “You good, or you need a minute?”

As Jake shifted, hand on your hip and eyes searching your face in search of an answer, you beckoned him closer. Despite the evidence of your slick coating his mouth and chin, you tugged him in for a kiss and sighed into it as he eagerly returned the embrace.

Against your hip, you could feel the evidence of his arousal - small wet patch blooming against the fabric of his briefs, cock straining and weighing heavily against your skin - and you shifted your hips, just enough to make him groan.

“I’m good,” you assured him, voice hoarse with pleasure and still breathless. “Please, wanna feel you.”

Jake sighed as your hands, lightly trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm, trailed along his torso to the band of his briefs. He shifted, just enough to allow you to nudge them down, before tugging them the rest of the way off and tossing them to join your clothes. 

The weight of his body pressed to yours, skin warm and slick with the lightest sheen of sweat, had you keening as the tip of his cock brushed your clit before nudging your entrance. Jake inhaled sharply at the feeling, fingers digging into the skin of your hip, and only moved when you begged him to.

Jake pressed forward, moving slowly to give you a moment to adjust, and leaned forward to press his forehead to yours when your nails sank into his shoulder once more. “You can take it, sweets,” he encouraged, voice brittle as he sank into you. “Fuck, I know you can take it. Always so good for me.”

Each sensation felt magnified as Jake settled fully inside of you. The weight of his body pressed to yours, the warmth of his breath on your neck, the rough pads of his fingers as they stroked your hipbone to calm you as your muscles twitched with overstimulation, every ridge and vein of his cock as it stretched your walls; everything felt overwhelming in the most beautiful way possible and you couldn’t help the pleading moan that escaped as Jake shifted his hips experimentally.

With your approval, Jake began to move slowly. Each thrust was methodical, deep and searching for that spot that had you seeing stars, and you could see the tension in his jaw as he began to build a satisfying rhythm. With an experimental shift of his hips, the tip of his cock nudged a spot that drew a gasp from you and he grinned triumphantly.

“Right there?” When you moaned, unable to do more than tangle your fingers in his hair and tug him impossibly closer, Jake nipped at the curve of your jaw. “That’s it,” he encouraged, hand snaking between your bodies to rub at your aching clit. “Tell me how it feels, sweets,” he demanded, voice rough in your ear as he shifted his head just enough to catch a glimpse of your face. “Feel good?”

The shattered moan you released, keening and so desperate it made his hips stutter, wasn’t quite enough. It spurred him on, had his hips moving faster, and you cried out at the lewd sound of his hips meeting your skin. “So,” the answer was split by a broken moan, a sharp gasp as he hiked your thigh around his waist for a better angle, and Jake smirked at the way your eyes rolled back.

“So, what,” he pressed, seeking an answer that he knew you were nearly unable to give. “I need an answer, pretty girl. If I don’t get one, you don’t get to come.”

Jake’s threat wasn’t empty - he’d never left you truly hanging but he had taken a particular liking to edging, pulling you to the brink only to push you back until you gave in to his requests - and you whined at the way his hips slowed the longer you took to answer.

“So good,” you cried out, finally able to catch your breath just enough to answer. “Fuck, so good!”

He hummed, pleased by your answer, and began to pick up the pace once more as your hand returned to his hair. Though breathing was difficult enough, oxygen hard to come by even in gasps, you still dragged him in for a kiss that was more a clash of lips and teeth and tongue than a true embrace as your vision began to white around the edges.

Jake could read you better than a well-loved novel, saw the signs before you could, and pressed your hips into the mattress as he sank deeper and deeper. His thumb worked tight circles over your clit, just as desperate for you to fall over the edge as you were, and you could feel his gaze searing into your skin as you came for the third time.

The ringing of your ears nearly drowned out the sound of Jake’s groan, deep and desperate as he snapped his hips a few more times in search of his own release. Every inch of your skin felt too warm and air felt impossible to come by, but you rode out the wave with the help of Jake’s hands skating across your skin.

Jake fell to the mattress at your side, careful to remain close but keep enough distance to make you comfortable, and for a few long moments, the only noise in the room was the ragged sounds of you both attempting to catch your breath.

When you could feel your temperature returning to normal, the tingling in the tips of your fingers and toes leaving, you moved your hand just enough to grab his and intertwine your fingers. “You have such a praise kink,” you teased, still breathless and voice hoarse with use as you turned your head to find Jake already looking at you.

Instead of denying it, Jake laughed and squeezed your hand. “I want to make sure my girl feels good,” he defended, shrugging as best he could. “Somethin’ wrong with that?”

“I keep feeding your ego, but you’ve never left me wanting,” you assured him, rolling your eyes when he smirked. “So, I’m your girl now?”

It was his turn to roll his eyes as he tugged you closer. “You’ve been my girl for a while now,” he reminded you. “Nothing changes except I can tell people to fuck off if they get too close.”

With a sigh, you rested your head on his shoulder and tipped your chin just enough to meet his gaze. As his fingers brushed along the heated skin of your side, warm and threatening to lull you to sleep, you tapped his chest. “I’m yours. The jealousy thing isn’t cute. You can’t lose your shit every time I talk to someone. You’re the only one I want and you have to trust that. You have to trust me.”

“I do,” he promised, gaze softening. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair of me to take my fears out on you. It won’t happen again,” he assured you.

Though there were still questions to be answered and a conversation to be had, you trusted that you were on the same page. And as he brushed at your heated skin, fingers skating across your back and side, you drifted to sleep with the knowledge that you were Jake’s girl, just as you had been all along.

__________________________________________________

Author’s Note: How did we get here. My smut is rusty and I need to practice. But instead I’m working on Hangman angst. Whoops.

Taglist: @lulu-noodles, @holachicos, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth, @withakindheartx, @ssprayberrythings, @verin93, @totalwitch2, @malindacath, @alexparkxr, @hangmandruigandmav, @alexxavicry, @calicokel, @jaymum, @dracosluvbot, @little-wiseone, @specialk6802, @mandylove1000, @xlynnx07, @julesclues, @archetypesoflife, @oliviah-25, @benhardysdrumstick, @caatheeriinee07, @prettymucheveryothernamewastaken, @yvespoems, @chloereidwayne, @flower-name​

[autistic-robin]

more dynamics i need to see in st5 for my mental wellbeing

1. el and dustin. that’s it send post. they were genuinely so sweet in season 1 and i miss their mad scientist/test subject vibe immensely. i know el and lucas are going to be paired up this season because of their shared connection (polyamory) to max, but i would love to see more scenes between dustin and el— maybe some lighthearted bonding over their matching leg injuries or daddy issues.

2. mike and robin. i don’t think you understand i need this like i need air. will has already had his gay awakening he doesn’t need a queer life coach!! mike on the other hand is out here in the TRENCHES. this man is down critically horrendously morifyingly BAD for will but is convinced el needs him and that will could never reciprocate his feelings. he needs robin’s gay intuition and advice if anyone does.

3. steve and jonathan. HELLO??? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HELLO???? i know this is pretty much guaranteed to happen in st5 because full-circle character development and hammering in themes and blah blah blah but i’m still gonna talk about it because listen. steve got his shit rocked by jonathan one (1) time and immediately decided “fuck my idiot friends” developed a moral conscience and SHOWED UP AT HIS HOUSE to apologize. he wasn’t there for nancy he had no idea nancy was there!!! he bought jonathan a new camera!!! he was so respectful of nancy and jon even when nancy dumped his ass a season later!!! yet we never get closure between him and jonathan or even a conversation and i’m PISSED about it. matt and ross duffer rectify this or else.

4. hopper and jonathan and will. you see the vision. these kids have never had a stable father figure who truly understands them (i love bob but he was only there for st2 and was sweet but naive) and everything they’ve been through. jonathan DESPERATELY needs to be de-parentified and released from the emotional burden of constantly putting will and joyce before his own needs and dreams, and hopper desperately needs to feel like he can protect his family instead of “cursing” them. will needs a loving father figure who supports his queer identity, and hopper only had a fire lit under him in s1 when joyce mentioned it could have been a hate crime. this is like textbook recipe for healing and closure for these characters.

5. joyce and karen? i just think it would be neat. we know karen’s getting more involved this season and i think she should get to be a little gay for joyce as a treat. we had crumbs of their dynamic in s1 and on a more sincere note i honestly think joyce could help give karen the courage to leave ted or demand better from him moving forward.

6. nancy and mike. if they don’t have a genuine conversation i’ll actually be fuming raging pulling my hair out. i get it i get that they’re both emotionally repressed but GOD i wish we had more moments with them talking about their trauma or empathizing with each other’s survivor’s guilt and crippling savior complexes. all the “max and mike are the same character in a different font” business is very valid and i agree madwheeler is like ten shots of espresso injected directly into the bloodstream HOWEVER, nancy and mike’s traumas and emotional issues are so so similar please let them talk about it!!!!

7. steve and robin???? please for the love of god????? literally what the fuck was happening in s4 they were NOT given enough screentime together. not cool. i want them BACK on their queerplatonic bullshit in s5, fully codependent disgustingly clingy like god intended.

8. jonathan and el. i just want them to be siblings together!!! we got a lot of willel sibling vibes in s4 and some sweet jon-and-will moments, but i would love for them to delve into jonathan and el’s dynamic. this girl is a big reason why will was saved in s1 and we just… never really see the byerses address that? jonathan has a lottt of self-blaming tendencies when it comes to will and i’d love for el to help remind him he isn’t responsible for protecting and saving his brother all the time. conversely, i’d love for jonathan to remind el that she’s just a kid and that the weight of the world shouldn’t be on her shoulders. they’re both really soft-spoken and sweet characters with hard veneers and i feel like they’d pair well together for more emotional scenes.

9. literally the entire byers-hopper family they are the heart and soul of the show and i will never forgive the duffer brothers for losing that in s3-4 in favor of expanding the scope of the story. i miss them.

10. steve and el. i would maim and kill for this dynamic actually. both of them are involved in love triangles and have arcs centered around independency and platonic/found familial love, and steve has his whole mom-of-the-group shtick that could be really endearing paired with el’s plucky weird-little-girl vibe. idk i just think they would be a cute team, maybe paired with dustin or lucas.

11. stoncy and robin. literally give me this team or give me death. i miss stoncy’s iconic end-of-season-1 monster-hunting trio dynamic SO MUCH i would give anything for them to go on a sidequest and really just hash it all out with each other. and robin could offer steve moral support and comic relief— while we’re on the subject i would also kill to see her and jonathan interact!! like they are so similar in that brooding-noncomformist way and i feel like they would either immediately gravitate toward each other based on values OR immediately clash due to their personality differences. jonathan is all quiet and avoidant and robin can be… A Lot (said with love) when she’s not masking like s3. i just think they’d be funny together.

12. this is devolving quickly so scott clarke and the party. no i will not elaborate. thank you for your time

[flightlessangelwings]

A kiss on the cheek that turns into a kiss on the lips

Benny Miller x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count- 663

Warnings- friends to lovers, mutual pining, hint of spice

Notes- Written for my 4k follower drabble event requested by anon! Thank you so much for the request I think this is one of my personal favs of the event!! Taglists are closed. To stay up to date on when I post, follow my update blog and turn on post notifs @flightlessangelwings-updates​

~

“Nice shot babe!” Benny’s encouraging voice made your heart flutter as he playfully bumped your hip with his.

You chuckled nervously to hide the way your hand trembled under his piercing gaze, “Thanks, Ben,” you mumbled as you fiddled with your poolstick.

Nights out like this were wonderful and relaxing, but also nerve wracking. You loved nothing more than when you got together with all the guys and you could just forget about the world around you for a few hours. They all made you feel welcome in their group right away, and you felt comfortable around them. Santiago, Frankie and the Miller brothers quickly became your best friends.

But there was one of them you thought of as more than just friends. And Benny’s flirtatious nature didn’t help the growing feelings you harbored for him. From the moment you met, you were captivated by him; Benny’s charming smile, his infectious laugh, his soft eyes, his kind nature made you a goner before you even had a chance. 

But you two were just friends… There was no way he felt the same about you. 

At least, that’s what you told yourself. It made it hard at times though whenever he would wrap his arm around you or gently nudge your chin or give you a subtle wink. You convinced yourself that was just how he was, though, and it didn’t mean anything with you. Especially when you knew about the nights he went home with someone else… 

“Hey…” Benny’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, “You still with me here, babe?” he asked with a puzzled look in his eyes, “I need your help to kick Pope and Fish’s ass and win this pool game!” 

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, “I’m still here,” you found your voice as you steadied yourself on your feet next to your partner, “Let’s win this thing, Benny!”

“Alright that’s what I want to hear!” Benny cheered as he kissed you softly on the cheek in the heat of the moment. 

Both of you froze.

“Ben…” you whispered as your fingers grazed the skin of your face and you felt like you were on fire.

Benny’s gaze turned serious as the world melted away around him and only you were in focus. His hand landed on the side of your face as his eyes dropped down to your lips for just a moment, “Is this ok… baby?” he asked in a tone you had never heard before.

“Yes,” you breathed without hesitation.

Benny’s face lit up and before you knew it, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer as he pressed his lips against yours. You immediately melted into his embrace and parted your lips for him. Sparks flew between you as months of repressed feelings exploded to the surface. It all felt like a whirlwind: one moment you were just playing pool with Benny, the next moment you were living a romance fantasy.

Cheers from the other end of the pool table brought the moment crashing down as quickly as it started, however, and you and Benny broke away to find Santi, Frankie and Will cheering for the two of you.

“Fucking finally!” Santi jeered.

“We were wondering how long it was going to take you two idiots to realize you liked each other,” Will added.

A wave of heat pulsed through your veins and you felt even more embarrassed than before. 

“Fuck off, you guys,” Benny snipped at them, “We were just taking our time that’s all.”

“Yeah, ok,” Frankie rolled his eyes with a smile, “Now can we get back to the game or are we going to have to watch you two suck each other’s faces the rest of the night?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Benny bantered back at his friends, “Just one more kiss,” he said before he leaned in and kissed you again before he murmured in your ear, “If they think this is bad, just wait til I get you home…”

[phantomwitch16]

So I just learned the Nanbaka ending. Safe to say that it was not what i expected and I wanna talk about it :,)

Warning to the many people who have not been able to make it past chapter 192 or only watched the anime, the majority of what i know is from TikTok's, the comments of the vids and what i've pulled together by myself and what i've seen on Pinterest. Plus, despite my like for the series, I don't know much, its been a few years since I've done anything with the series , there is a cut off point with the manga and even then i don't know if it was in any particular order.

When i first started the series, I felt like i had a good idea of where the series was going. Like as the series would progress, we learn the pasts and motivations of the main cast, like Uno, Rock, Nico and the others, while seeing Jyugo learn about the shackles and the man on the scar. Then at the end, some shenanigans results in our main cast of idiotic prisoners being released early or finishing off their sentences in around a year or two. but because they either grew attached to the prison or liked the perks of working there (annoying Hajime, anime and food), they decide to go back and become guards of building 13. With Jyugo possibly doing something like this each day.

But that didn't happen. Instead we get something a lot more different than what I originally imagined.

In the end of the series, we learn a lot about Jyugo's backstory, how he and the boys first me and more about the man who shackled him. As it turns out, Jyugo was never friends with Uno, Rock and Nico. They met him but they weren't friends, I think. Initally, I didn't think that he even met them before the start of the series until finding some of the fan translated pics of the manga on Pinterest (Search Nanmaka manga ending Jyugo and you should find something, just find one and keep on scrolling). All the memories that Jyugo had with them were fake ones that were inputted by the clone of the man with the scar/his biological grandfather, i.e. this guy, Hiiro, I think is his name. Hiiro with black hair, scar guy with white guy down here 👇

I'm not entirely clear on what they were planning initially but Hiiro was the one who inputted the memories and orchestrated him going to Namba and becoming friends with the three, who possibly have at least met them individually at tone point. From what I am aware, Jyugo was the clone of Mashiro Mutsuki's (Scar man), grandson who alongside his daughter's, Touko, Jyugo's mother. She died while she was pregnant with Jyugo and Mashiro kept her body so that she could be cloned and give birth to Jyugo.

There were bit and pieces of Jyugo's childhood, with him and Hiiro. And Jyugo was nothing like how he was during the series. He was serious, had no general emotions and all that and i think his clone body was falling apart or he was sort of shapeshifting. He only became somewhat normal and acts similar to how he does to the series when he put the shackles on.

But the shackles had another function and it was to repress his memories and powers. Specifically his memories with Hiiro, the scar man and what his friends did to him. Uno, Nico and Rock were brought in to teach Jyugo how to live in order to be released from prison and gain their freedom. And kill him some time before the series started. This was part of Hiiro’s plan but I’m not too sure about his reasoning. They did that, and when the shackles are gone we see the evidence of it on Jyugo's neck.

All this makes looking back on previous adventures quite differently. In short they were never his friends for a time but did grow close in the time afterwards and began to feel guilt for what they did to him. They eventually come to talk to Jyugo about it and apologise but at this point, it was too late. Jyugo remembers everything when the shackles break and is practically reverted to his previous state. And it leads to a bitter confrontation that leaves the three shaken. As seen below 👇

I'm not sure to what degree of involvement Nanba Prison and the staff there had. By all accounts, its seems that Hajime and the other guards were just as or even more in the dark than Jyugo. Upon finding him, Hajime treats him like he's always has.

The only moderately positive thing and relatively Jyugo related thing that the reverted Jyugo does is that he has a brief interaction with Hajime’s cat who he says goodbye to.

In the end, Jyugo disappeared from the prison with a splatter of blood left behind, leaving apparently with his grandfather. Then that's it. A very WTF kind of ending for a comedic series. It...honestly not what i expected. Beautiful art stuff, yes. WTF moments, yes. Hilarity, yes. A very bitter ending with barely any sweetness in it…neat.

[thisisallthehattersfault]

I tend to forget about Hua Cheng’s crippling self-image issues because Xie Lian is dehydrated over the man and it shows, but

Queerplatonic Xianle Quartet where HC is mostly fine around Xie Lian with his real face -- Gege loves him and loves the way he looks and sometimes remembering that is harder than others but he’s working on it and his god is always there to remind him when he stumbles -- and like, Xie Lian’s opinion is literally the only opinion that matters, so fuck everybody else. Gege likes his face. You can all deal.

Only then without him even realizing it had happened, suddenly Mu Qing and Feng Xin’s opinions do matter and he still hasn’t realized that he’s started to actually care about those idiots but he has noticed that he’s deeply uncomfortable wearing his real face around them recently. All those Oh My God I’m A Hideous Monster thoughts come bubbling to the surface and he can’t stand that he’s been walking around with his actual face out around those two this whole time.

Obviously Hua Cheng starts shifting around the two of them more and more often (It doesn’t have anything to do with them he just likes shifting shut up) and then he runs into a whole brand new wave of weirdness, because he’s used to making his forms look dangerous, seductive, dripping with sex appeal. Only, he doesn’t want Feng Xin or Mu Qing to think he’s fuckable? He doesn’t want to bang them, and he knows they don’t want to bang him. What he wants is for them to think he looks... nice? Dependable? Like he’d give good hugs?

Suddenly Hua Cheng is experimenting with forms that have kind eyes and friendly, open faces and layers of softness over muscles like iron, and Mu Qing and Feng Xin (who also Definitely Do Not Like Him And Don’t Care About Him What Are You Implying Shut Up) are suddenly having the absolutely fucking bizarre experience of wanting to snuggle Crimson Rain Sought Flower.

Feng Xin has an absolutely awful day and walks into a room to see Hua Cheng’s newest version of a papa bear form, big and broad and soft and strong, and he genuinely has an out-of-body experience over how badly he wants to just. Kind of burrow against his chest and stay there until everything is softer and smaller and quieter and farther away.

Mu Qing sees Xie Lian and Hua Cheng snuggling -- Hua Cheng’s newest form is this tiny, curvy, busty lady with a round face and big dark eyes and soft soft hands, perfect for squishing and squeezing and holding like a stuffed animal -- and he just seethes with jealousy watching Xie Lian sink his fingers into her soft soft skin and nuzzle into her soft soft shoulder. He has the thought of I bet she’d be so nice to cuddle and then he has to walk away because fucking What??

Of course this all eventually culminates in something happening and Feng Xin and Mu Qing get their shit rocked and Hua Cheng shows up in his true form to help them out, at which point we somehow get the reveal that they already associate his actual face with support and security and comfort because they know he has their back and he does not need to squeeze himself into different shapes to appeal to them. We like you for you, idiot. Yeah, really. We were shocked too.

Xie Lian through all of this is living his best life getting to squeeze and squish and cuddle with all of San Lang’s new forms and also getting to fuck them because unlike FengQing Xie Lian is sexually attracted to Hua Cheng and damn if these new bodies aren’t extremely excellent to play with. His favorite is still true form though. He’s a sucker for the classics.

Anyway tl;dr touch starved emotionally repressed idiots discover they have a nonsexual crush on their childhood best friend’s husband, said husband does the nonsexual equivalent of walking around in just a bikini, in the end everybody cuddles about it.

[yagirlwrites]

The Night We Met (The Sounds of a Good Boy Blurb)

Their first meeting! I'm so excited/nervous to hear y'all's thoughts on this one! This is set a while before the first part so a very interesting dynamic between them and a long way to grow before we see them in TSOAGB.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Hope you like it! Let me know your thoughts and if you'd like more blurbs about these two idiots💞

Series Masterlist

My work is my own; it’s not to be copied, transferred or translated. Happy reading!🥰

The Night We Met

The party was in full swing. Bodies swaying on the dance floor, drinks and blunts being passed around, music deafening and the air thick with sweat and heat.

She had once again found herself at a frat party she had no interest in attending. It was getting old. Every party was exactly the same, with exactly the same kind of crowd, same forced conversations; ultimately ending with her driving her friends’ drunk asses home.

She loved her friends and that’s the only reason she agreed to spend her Saturday night here; drinking from the same cup of cheap beer she snatched when they first got here, her friends long gone with someone they were gonna hook up with, and she was outside breathing in the fresh air after the stuffiness of the inside.

A guy had come up to her while she was just trying to have a moment of peace and was now talking her ear off about something she didn’t care enough to pay attention to. She was getting annoyed and he was not taking a hint.

“Look, man. I’m not interested okay?” She blurted it out without thinking, but she wasn’t going to take it back, she meant it. She’s not going to hook up with this guy and she doesn’t want to spend any more of her already shitty night getting her energy sucked out of her by the most uninteresting person she’s ever met.

He looked surprised. Like he hadn’t even realized she was capable of speaking, seemed to love the sound of his own voice so much he couldn’t imagine anyone not being interested in what he had to say. She had to repress an eyeroll at his face and just moved away from him walking further out into the backyard.

She assumed she was alone but then she heard a chuckle coming from her left. It was too dark to make out exactly who it was, and frankly she didn’t care. She was looking up at the stars when she heard the footsteps approaching and she couldn’t stop the eye roll that followed. Was there no way for her to get a few moments to herself at this god damn party?

“That was kinda harsh.” The voice spoke, clearly talking to her. She didn’t respond, hoping he’ll just leave if she ignores him. No such luck.

“Poor guy seemed like he was pouring his heart out to you. I think you hurt his feelings.” The tone was more sarcastic than empathetic, and she sighed turning towards him.

Now that he was closer she could somewhat make out his features. He was tall, his hair was peaking out under a backwards cap, he was wearing exactly the same thing as every other frat douche at this party. How original.

His right had was clutching a cup, and a ring caught the moonlight as he brought it to his lips which were pulled into a smirk. She knew they would be, he sounded smug. She looked in his eyes with a blank stare, daring him to keep going, making it painfully obvious how much she didn’t care for his opinion.

“Do you like to hurt guys’ feelings?” He questioned, ignoring her stare, determined to get a response out of her.

She knew this. She should just walk away and not give him what he wants. So that’s exactly what she does. She turns away from him heading back inside with the full intention of finding her friends and getting the hell out of there. He doesn’t follow or make any more comments as she enters through the back door.

She knew it was going to end up a fruitless endevour. After about 20 minutes of searching through the sweaty bodies and the crowded rooms with no luck she made her way into the kitchen which seemed to hold a lot less people. Finding a clean cup and getting some water, she leaned against the counter pulling out her phone and texting her friends for the 3rd time. She didn’t expect an answer though. She decided she was done here and after she had her drink she was going home wheather those girls answered her or not.

As she was typing out the texts to let her friends know she was leaving, she could feel eyes on the back of her head. She glanced over her shoulder seeing the same guy from earlier perched on one of the barstools on the other side of the counter. She sighed. This fucking guy again. She wanted to turn back around and keep ignoring him but he pulled out that cocky smirk again and she got an intense urge to wipe it off his face.

She turned, her body fully facing him now. Leaning towards him on he counter, hands under her chin eyes taking him in. She shamelessly ran her eyes over his figure. Checking out his tanned biceps and veiny arms, the way his shirt clung to his chest. He’s clearly fit, not doubts about that. She took on his fingers, slim and long and that ring was golden and shiny under the kitchen light. Her eyes followed the veins in his neck, seeing his Adam's apple bob as he tried to subtly swallow under her gaze. Next came his chin, bit of stubble, mouth, pink and plump, shiny with remnants of whatever was in his cup, covering his upper lip a small moustache. She could see some freckles on his nose and cheeks, his cheekbones sharp. His hair was dirty blond as far as she could tell from what peaked out under his hat.

Lastly she met his eyes. They were blue with green swirling in them. And they were still looking at her. But he was no longer smirking, he looked serious, maybe even a little nervous. This pleased her greatly. Mission accomplished.

Seems he wasn’t expecting her to so blatanly check him out. He felt bare and vulnerable under her heavy gaze and it left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He was desperate for her to pay attention to him earlier and now that she had it shook him.

He was holding her stare, unwilling to back down still. His ego wouldn’t let him.

She gave a non commital hum in response and smiled at him. It was a smile of a woman who had nothing to prove and every intention of fucking with his head. He thought he could play games with her and instead he was feeling like her prey. The smile on her face was beautiful, she was beautiful, but her eyes were fiery and they screamed danger.

Something deep within him stirred at the way she was looking at him. Like she could devour him without breaking a sweat and leave him behind without looking back. He recognized that look. It was the same way he had looked at girls countless times before. Like they were mere playthings, to have fun with and move on once he got bored. He didn’t like being looked at like that. He didn’t like her looking at him like that. But he couldn’t look away, it was like he was in a trance.

She could see the effect her gaze had on him. He was no longer a smug smirking asshole. He was still and rigid like it was taking everything in him not to break down. He was holding her stare but she could see the emotions swirling in his eyes. He seemed to be feeling a lot of them.

He was very pretty. She couldn’t deny it. He was attractive. He looked exactly like the kind of guy that was probably more than capable of satisfying a woman and he knew it. But her appetites were different and she wasn’t sure he could handle that. So she pushed away the urge to run her fingers over his pretty face and pushed back from the counter. Her phone buzzed in her hand, surprisingly her friend was calling.

“Hello?” She answered the call, struggling to make out the voice on the other side through the noise.

“I’m outside. Can you take me home please?”

She could sense there was something wrong with her friend so she moved into action.

“I’ll be right there.” She hung up, grabbed her cup of water in case the girl needed it, pocketed her phone and made to leave.

“Is your friend okay?” She heard him ask as she was half way to the door. It was the first time he spoke since their interaction outside. He sounded genuine, like he was concerned. That almost threw her but she had other things to deal with. So she simply said

“I don’t know.” And left him there without another look.

------

It had been nearly a week since the party and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Truth is, he had noticied her as soon as she walked through the door that night.

She was with her friends, two girls, she was smiling at them and she looked like she was having a good time. She was very pretty, he noticed that right away- but there was an energy about her that drew his eyes back to her throughout the night. He couldn’t look away for long, she was mesmerising.

He watched her dance with her friends, dodge guys and sip from the same damn cup for almost 2 hours. He felt like a a creep, but he couldn’t help it. Her clothes were tight in all the right places, curves taunting him. The way she swayed her hips and ran her fingers through her hair had him in a trance. He tried snapping out of it, he really did.

There was a girl talking to him, not the first one that night either. She was pretty and she was into him and she was paying him attention, but no matter how hard he tried to focus on the way her body was leaning into him or the way her hand was wrapped around his arm- his eyes couldn’t stop searching for her.

The girl noticed this, it was hard not to, and left. It was the third time that night his intentions of getting laid where hindered by her. Or more himself, really. He couldn’t blame her for something she had no control over, he wasn’t that delusional. He felt pathetic and his frustration started bubbling up. What was he doing? Staring at some girl across the room like a loser. It had become painfully clear that she was the one he wanted that night. So what was he doing? He was Rafe motherfucking Cameron. He didn’t stand on the sidelines hoping some chick would pay him attention. If he wanted something he went after it and he got it. And he wanted her.

So he decided to finally act on it. Just in time too, she seemed to be losing interest in the party. Her friends were gone now and she looked bored and over it. So he took his chance and made for her, but before he was even half way there he was pulled away by his friend for shots or something else he was not interested in and he wanted to punch something. Gimme a fucking break.

After forcing down a shot to appease his friends he excused himself and left, intending to finish what he started. But she was gone. He searched for her in the crowds of people and he couldn’t find her anywhere. He couldn’t believe after all the staring he’d been doing that he actually lost her. His feet were taking him out the back sliding doors before his mind could catch up. He supposed it was a good idea, to catch a breath and calm down. He was acting like an idiot over some girl he hadn’t even actually met.

As soon as he stepped outside he felt calm though. He didn’t know what it was, maybe the cool air filling his lungs or the noise of the party being dulled, but he felt like he was finally at peace. But then he heard a voice, some guy standing off the side talking to someone he couldn’t see. He couldn’t make out what he was saying but he wanted him to shut the fuck up. Whoever he was talking to seemed to agree, because their words cut his rambling.

“Look, man. I’m not interested, okay?” It was a girl, she sounded incredibly bored and her tone was cold. Ouch. That must have stung, he thought. He couldn’t help but think her voice sounded nice to his ears.

Then the girl moved and he saw her. His breath caught in his throat as he realised it was her. The same girl who had held his attention for hours, same girl he thought had left and he would never see again. Never get a chance again. But here she was. Now standing closer to him in an effort to escape that douchebag. He was in the dark so she hadn’t seen him. This was it. This was his chance.

He couldn’t help but look back at the guy she had just left, he looked flustered and embarrased as he abruptly turned and went back inside. He chuckled at that. What a pussy.

She had heard him now, she knew he was there. It meant he had to move, before she pegged him for a creep hiding in the dark like that. But all of a sudden he was nervous and all the usual smooth words escaped him. He was never nervous around girs, he had plenty of reasons not to be. He could get whoever he wanted. So he didn’t quite get why his brain wasn’t cooperating now.

He forced himself to say the first thing he could think off. Break the ice, start a conversation, then he’ll be fine. He’ll know what to do once the ball’s going.

“That was kinda harsh.” He wasn’t sure why that left his mouth. There was no turning back now though, he had to commit. Stupid.

“Poor guy seemed like he was pouring his heart out to you. I think you hurt his feelings.” He said as he stepped closer to her.

He wanted to wince. What the hell was he doing. He sounded like he was taunting her. It wasn’t what he was going for at all but now that it was out there he could only think of one way to turn it around. He was about to make a flirty joke but then she looked at him.

It was the first time that night she had looked at him and his heart was racing a mile a minute. She was even prettier up close. Moonlight reflecting her features in the dark. She gave him a quick once over, a bored look on her face. He didn’t like that at all. She held him in her clutches all night and she was going to look at him like he was nothing interesting at all? He felt angry and now he kind of wanted to taunt her, get a reaction that was someting other than this.

“Do you like to hurt guys’ feelings?” His words were aimed to cut, to provoke, to push her buttons. He needed her attention. He was desperate for it. Even if it meant getting her anger.

But it never came. She just turned around and left him standing there, without so much as a backwards glace. She had left him in the cold, and all of a sudden he no longer felt that calm from before. The air stung going down his lungs and the bitter taste of his own stupid words lingered on his tongue. What had he done?

After that abysmal encounter he decided to dull the ache with booze. He made himself at home in the small kitchen, not feeling up to socialising. Wanting to simply be left alone with his drink to lick his wounds.

He had no idea what the fuck happened out there. He got completey fucking blanked. She made him feel small and irrelevant and he felt pathetic at the thought. Who the fuck was she to make him feel like that? And more importantly why the fuck did he care?

Sure he usually got what he wanted, not experiencing rejection often but on the rare occasion it happened - after the initial sting, he didn’t dwell on it. He knew there were plenty of other girls who wanted him and he’d smoothly move on to the next one. But he couldn’t shake her off. His mood was sour and he was angry with her, but mostly with himself.

He decided he needs to snap out of his moping and bite the bullet, call the night a bust and get going. Usually he wasn’t one to give up on having a good time but he really didn’t feel like enduring any more of this party when his mood was ruined.

His thoughts kept flitting back to her though, frustrating him further. He was sure she had left now and he would probably never see her again. It was a pretty big campus, and if he hadn’t seen her before tonight there’s no reason to believe he would again. The thought was supposed to soothe him, he wouldn’t have to be reminded of the embarrassment he felt tonight if he ran into her again. But it ended up causing a sting in his chest, he wasn’t sure why. Why would he want to see her again? She’s a bitch. He decided.

And just as he was beginning to believe it the kitchen door opened and the woman of the hour made her way inside. She was standing right across the counter from him, back turned, looking at her phone. He couldn’t believe this. For fuck’s sake. But a small part of him, part he chose to ignore, was recognising that fluttery feeling in his stomach as butterflies.

He didn’t speak. He just stared at her. Both annoyed and nervous. There he was again, unable to take his eyes off the girl who doesn’t even notice he exists. His frustration was bubbling up. She’s so fucking annoying.

As if she could feel his stare on her she finally took a quick look over her shoulder and her eyes landed on him. He could see she was annoyed and her quiet sigh further confirmed it. He smirked. She wasn’t indifferent after all, she’s was just very good at pretending.

The realisation made that fluttery feeling in his gut get stronger. Maybe this wasn’t a total bust after all - angry sex is damn good. Maybe his night was finally looking up. He was about to open his mouth when she turned, facing him fully and his breath caught in his throat at the way she was looking at him.

He could feel her undressing him with her eyes, gaze painfully slowly running over every visible inch of his body. She looked cool and shameless and completely in control of the situation. The heat in her eyes made him feel vunerable and he could feel his skin flush in their path. She took her sweet time taking him in and it was making him feel all sorts of things. Flustered? Turned on? Annoyed? Naked.

All that and more. It was as if she could transform him into a puddle of anxious nerves and overwhelming arousal simply with her presence and that look in her eye.

A hum was all he got from her. And then she smiled. And by God those butterflies were having a field day.

He could see a danger behind that beautiful smile. The way she was looking at him was making him feel everything at once. He was turned on and scared and excited and it felt like he would burst from all the emotions running through him. His insticts were telling him to run away from her gaze, his ego telling him that he should be wanting to tame her instead of wanting to lay at her feet and see what she gives him for it. He had no clue where that thought came from. He was conflicted and he was sure it could be seen written all over his face. She unhinged him. This was uncharted territory. But something in him was screaming at him that he really should see where it goes.

But before he had the chance to make a real decision - to respond, do anything really - her phone was ringing and she was turning away from him, breaking the spell he was under and leaving him more confused than before. What even just happened?

He could hear her tone change from mildly irritated to worried, not sure how he managed to pick up on any of that given she never even spoke to him, but he did. He noticed the shift in her and his heart stopped for a moment. Something was wrong.

She was on the move then, grabing her stuff and heading out of the kitchen without looking back at him. And even though that should have angered him, her leaving him in the dust again, it didn't. All he wanted to do was follow. Help. Something. Anything.

"Is your friend okay?" His words surprised both of them.

She looked at him then, a look he hadn't seen on her before. There was something new there. Something slightly vulnerable perhaps. His breath caugh in his throat at the sight. It didn't last long however, barely a moment before she trained her expression back to a scowl. It was brief but he memorized it, wondering why it was she was so determined to keep herself so closed off all the time. She had been doing it all night, he could tell it was a well practiced act. He wondered if he would ever get to see beneath it. He wanted to. Badly.

And then she spoke.

"I don't know."

He was stuck there, long after her abrupt departure, shellshocked. Her voice made shivers run down his spine, in a thrilling and unfamiliar way.

It was such a brief interaction. Three words that had nothing at all to do with him, that were nothing special. But he didn't care. All he could focus on was how they made him feel. And how badly he wanted to see her and hear her again. It was as if he could feel himself develop and addiction from one fleeting shared moment. It was insane. And yet he couldn't deny it. There was something about her that made him want to get lost in the hopes that she might find him.

----

Taglist: if anyone wants to be tagged in future work let me know; @r0und3bitch @illicitfixations @wishing-i-was-rafes-princess @goldenjo @kanib45 @clinelyn @magnificantmermaid @mannstarkey @harringtonstudios @totallynotkaibiased @popcrone818 @fangirlwithlou @rafesxgold @cmac-writes @malfoytargaryen @alinaharlow @buggy-d-chopper @withbeautyandrage @sierrahhh @harrys-humble-housewife @piceous21

[pollenallergie]

Some Older!Tom Grant x Reader Headcanons

Description: Exactly what the title says. (I’m lazy).

Warnings: Terrible attempts at using British/Cornish slang, some American-isms may have wormed their way in here, swearing, and smut is implied (and also sort of mentioned?? a male orgasm is mentioned, but that’s it). I think that’s it, but let me know if there’s more warnings that I should’ve listed here. 18+ only!! If you’re a minor, go away, do not read this!!

Word Count: Who cares? Just read it. (Again, I’m lazy).

A/N: I’m using a gif of Michael from Hoard because, in my opinion, that’s what older!Tom looks like.

You were the one that got away.

Tom met you when he was 18, while you were on vacation with your family at the caravan park.

You two hit it off and became great friends despite having only known each other for about a week.

You liked Tom as more than a friend, and he sort of felt the same way about you… sort of. Things were complicated because he was still hung up on his recent breakup with Ruth. Had he met you under any other circumstances, he probably would’ve fallen head over heels in love with you before you could’ve even said hello, but he didn’t. No, Tom met you while recovering from his first heartbreak, when he was still in love with his ex despite all she had put him through. He wasn’t ready to experience the kind of feelings being around you gave him, so he pushed them down, repressed them, smothered them, and pretended like they didn’t exist.

You’d managed to summon the courage to ask Tom out on a date on your second to last day at the park, and he’d declined. You’d thought he felt the same way. He'd been flirting with you ever since he first met you, and you’d done your best to reciprocate despite the fact that, back then, you weren’t used to flirting (nor being flirted with). But then he rejected you, leaving you to high tail it back to your caravan so you could lick your wounds and helplessly wonder if you’d misread the signs. Had he even been flirting with you at all?

Tom had been flirting with you but never with the intention to act on it. He never figured that anything would become of it anyway, never figured you were actually interested; Ruth wasn’t, so why would you be?

In retrospect, he sees how daft he was being. Ruth wasn’t interested in him because she wasn’t interested in men at all. What happened with Ruth wasn’t a personal slight against him, even if, at the time, it truly felt like it was. He was young, and he was hurt, and, frankly, she’d gone about the whole thing pretty poorly. Granted, she was young too.

Anyways, Tom was young and hurt, and he thought he was utterly unlovable and undesirable. So, he figured you only reciprocated his flirting to keep yourself entertained whilst you were so far away from home. You certainly wouldn’t have been the first tourist to give one of the guys at the caravan park that treatment.

When you’d asked him out, he’d been so taken aback and unprepared that he’d let you down quickly and, admittedly, not as kindly as he should’ve. All the years that have passed since then, and he still remembers exactly what he’d said, “What? Oh, er, nah. I’m alright. Thanks though. I’ll see you round, yeah?” Then, like an even bigger idiot, he’d run off under the guise of getting back to work. That memory continues to haunt him on nights when it’s hard to get to sleep, along with every other embarrassing fuck up he’s ever made in his life, of course.

Your friendship had fizzled out that very afternoon, and the two of you never even said goodbye when you left the park to return to your home country. You never spoke after that summer either, even though you’d exchanged contact information earlier on in your holiday, before that fateful afternoon.

Tom has spent years regretting the way things ended between the two of you. Mostly, he wishes that the two of you could’ve remained friends. However, there’s always been a part of him that’s been disappointed in himself for ruining his shot with you.

Fourteen years later, Tom miraculously gets a chance to redeem himself.

You move to the UK — Cornwall, specifically — for your new job, and, as luck would have it, you move to the very same town that Tom moved to after he left his work at the caravan park behind.

One morning, whilst working on a construction site across the street from your new job, Tom spots you carrying some supplies into your office. He can’t believe his eyes. You look almost exactly the same, albeit a bit more mature, with some more lovely curves as well, but with the same kind eyes and the same beautiful smile.

Tom can’t help himself; he has to go over to you and say ‘hi’ to you, at the very least. So, when he catches you leaving your building for lunch, he jumps on the opportunity, sacrificing the last fifteen minutes of his lunch break to talk to you.

He manages to convince you to come out to dinner with him at a nearby pub, framing it as two old friends catching up. Although, the lack of a ring on your finger sure gives him hope, more hope than it probably should.

What started as dinner, a quick chat and a bite to eat, turns into staying at the pub til the bartender calls out five minutes to closing time.

The two of you are drunk on cheap beer and ale, with your stomachs full of greasy pub food, and Tom, ever the gentleman, insists on walking you home.

When the two of you arrive at your new place, you insist that he stays the night, refusing to let him walk back to his place in such a state. He’s fully prepared to stay on your sofa, but, in your inebriated state, you seem to think it’d be better if you both just slept in your bed together. In his own inebriated state, he finds that offer impossible to refuse.

Nothing happens between the two of you that night; even drunk off his arse, Tom’s still respectful, insisting that he sleep in the same jeans and t-shirt that he’d worn out to the pub and, much to your chagrin, putting as much distance between you two as your bed will allow. However, the next morning, Tom takes a big risk and asks if he can kiss you before he leaves to go back to his own place. The eager nod and shy smile that you answer him with makes his heart soar.

If you ask Tom, that kiss was well worth the wait. However, if he could turn back time, he’d still have rather gotten his shit together back in ‘09 and kissed you then; then, he could’ve just been kissing you the whole time these past fourteen years.

After the two of you reluctantly pull apart, Tom asks if he can take you on a proper date sometime soon, maybe to get some dinner at a fancy restaurant or something like that. You agree, but only on one condition: Tom takes you to the spot in town with the best food, no matter how fancy or not-so-fancy it may be. He agrees.

Your first “proper” date ends up being at that very same pub, though this time, you two do much less drinking and catching up, and a lot more eating your weight in greasy chips and bantering.

Tom’s still just as cheeky as ever; you’d figured that out the first time you went out with him, but you get to see even more of that on your first date. He holds doors open for you, partly because he’s a gentleman and partly because it gives him a good opportunity to take a geek at your arse. Once he’s given the green light to touch you, he never really stops touching you. The whole night, he has a hand resting on your thigh or lower back, or an arm wrapped around your shoulders or waist so that he can subtly tug you closer to him. He lays the compliments on thick, too, but in a way where you can tell that he really means them, that it’s not just baseless flattery.

Tom’s also incredibly sweet and genuine, too, asking questions about your work, your family, your friends back home, etc. He asks if you’re settling in alright here in Cornwall, so far from where you’re originally from. He offers to show you round the town, show you where all the essentials are, like where to get the best produce, and to show you which places are nothing more than tourist magnets and which are actual local-approved spots. He talks about himself, too. He tells you about his mum, how he moved here so that he could be closer to her, so she wouldn’t have to be alone. He talks about his housemates: his mate, Callum, from primary school, who’s hardly home enough to truly be considered a housemate, along with the dog he (Tom) recently rescued and the stray cat that just sort of showed up one day and turned himself into a housecat. He pays for everything, always having some cash out and ready before you can even reach into your purse to get your wallet. He walks you home again, of course.

Tom ends up staying the night at yours again. Although, this time, it’s not because you think he’s too drunk to walk home. No, this time, he winds up in between your sheets for an entirely different reason, and he certainly doesn’t leave any space between the two of you this time around.

The next morning, Tom wakes up before you, as he’s used to waking up at 4:30 for work. By the time you wake up, he’s made breakfast, the closest he could get to a full spread with the stuff you had in your fridge (it’s basically just eggs and toast). You two eat breakfast together, and you find out that he’s still an adorably messy eater. He cleans up after himself well, though.

In fact, Tom doesn’t let you help him clean up at all, doesn’t let you touch a single dish because, according to him, he can’t, in good conscience, let you lift a finger after the way you made him cum last night. “You deserve the Nobel prize in shaggin’, love. I’m serious. I mean, I was seeing stars afterwards ‘n everything. You’ve gotta, at least, let me make you a ‘thank you’ breakfast and clean up after meself. ‘S the least I can do after that,” He says, like the dork that he is, before planting an emphatic kiss on your forehead.

He leaves a couple of hours later to go check on The Lads™, but not before asking you to come round to his place sometime next week so that he can make you “the best fucking lasagne you’ll ever have in your whole life. Seriously, it’s me mum’s recipe. It’s fuckin’ amazing. You’re gonna love it.”

[just-a-creep-babe]

Dunno if youve done this already, but would you be willing to do some general headcanons for some of the creeps? Maybe ben or jeff? 👀👉👈

(Does this count as a request??)

I’m not sure how many of these headcanons I may have mentioned before, so excuse my repeating them if I have 😌👌🌸

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Check out my patreon if you’d like to support me!

Masterlist: x

Jeff the Killer

Honestly, he was pretty scrawny (and dare I even say twink-like) when he first started killing

He thought he was invincible when he lost his mind, and combined with his lack of experience with independence, it led to him making a lot of very unhealthy choices

He neglected his hygiene, ignored the pangs of hunger & pain from overexertion, and he didn’t even bother sanitizing the cuts & scraps he got from fighting

For one reason or another, his mental break did result in superior health & stamina, but that doesn’t mean he’s invulnerable

Contrary to what he may have thought at one point, he is, in fact, not a god

It was only multiple near-death experiences later that he started learning how to take better care of himself

And then he also realized that eating right & working out made him even faster & stronger

So he’s since bulked up quite a bit, and he’s become obsessed with his health, fitness & nutrition

It also comes as no surprise to anyone that he’s, well, kind of an asshole

He actively tried to start shit when he first joined the mansion

He was restless & aggravated, and felt like he had something to prove

So he acted like a massive dickhead to everyone & looked for trouble wherever he went

He’s gotten quite the reputation because of that, and even though he’s chilled out since then, a good amount of creeps are either still wary of him or want to shred his guts to pieces

But don’t feel bad for him, he still kinda deserves it, even nowadays :”)

His relationship with Slender is definitely precarious because of what he’s done in the past

Because before he joined the safe-house, this idiot guy literally challenged the eldritch being to fights

Which, obviously, resulted in him getting his ass beat, but that didn’t stop him from trying again next time

The only reason Slender keeps him around is because he’s good at what he does

And he also doesn’t want an opposing force to claim him

Besides, Jeff is useful to pin chores on

Cause if he refuses, Slender just might get sick of him & kick him out—and Jeff is fully aware of this

It’s all those accumulated debts from before

But!! He’s not entirely without friends at the mansion

He’s besties with BEN, and otherwise gets along really well with Clockwork and Toby

He doesn’t spend too much time with Toby since the proxy’s always busy with work, but when they do hang out, they almost always have a really chaotic great time together

He honestly considers Smile Dog his ✨bestest bestie✨ so BEN does sometimes have to compete with a dog for Jeff’s attention

Which is, objectively, very funny

Romance-wise, though he’d never admit it, he is kind of lonely

He’d like to develop a bond with someone he can trust & become ride-or-dies, kind of like Bonnie & Clyde-esque

But he also has major trust issues, and it would take a Lot for that bond to develop

Sometimes, the loneliness & burden of his lifestyle haunts him when he least expects it

So he is prone to unhealthy coping mechanisms

He’ll find comfort at the bottom of a bottle, or he’ll pick at his open wounds & hurt himself various ways to deal with the darkness in his mind

But luckily, he’s learned how to repress it better over time, especially since he’s learned how to take better care of himself

So those lonely nights, while they still do creep up on him occasionally, have become fewer & farther between

Anyways, overall, this man is kind of wreck, but he’s gotten better over time, so that’s something at least, innit?

BEN Drowned

Unlike Jeff, who’s gone through some kind of change over time, BEN… has not

It might just be because he’s dead and physically/mentally/spiritually/emotionally stuck in his old ways

Or it might just be because he’s incredibly lazy

Who can tell for sure?

Either way, his laziness borders on depression

He just doesn’t feel like doing anything—because why would he?

He’s basically immortal, he doesn’t need to get a job or pay rent or eat or sleep or, well, do anything, really

It gets to the point where he thinks “what’s the point?”

And that results in him playing video games for 2 weeks straight without leaving his room or showering or doing any basic self-care

He has to hold onto the things he likes because otherwise, he kind of just… wouldn’t have anything to exist for

So he’ll often indulge in gaming, hacking, sex and murder

Messing with people’s minds and driving them insane is a very entertaining hobby for him

It makes him feel powerful, like he can still exert his influence onto the living despite being dead

Sometimes, he won’t even kill his victims—he’ll just play with them for a few weeks or months before leaving them alone

He just loves knowing the thought of him will haunt them for the rest of their lives

He gets to live in their minds rent free without even trying—how wonderful is that?~

Tbh, he generally enjoys anything that strokes his ego

So he’ll often scour the inter-webs for stories about himself; whether they be from fans, victims or potentially even ghost hunters

It’s very flattering to him, knowing people actively spend their time thinking, talking & theorizing about him

He’ll sometimes even make fake accounts to join in on the fun~

He‘s kind of a narcissist, what can I say?

Homeboy feels very deeply connected to The Legend of Zelda, so he’ll follow all the latest news on the franchise

It’s also one of those things that give him some kind of a purpose

When his mental health dips, sometimes he’ll escape reality by just kind of… floating off into cyberspace

Existing can be hard, and sometimes you just wanna reside in a blank slate of information, ya know?

And then also, because he doesn’t need to eat to sustain himself, his diet is a mess

Which particularly stresses EJ out, so if he’s feeling like a lil shit, BEN will just eat the wildest kind of junk food to bother the med student

He once went nearly two whole months just eating condiments alone

And while EJ knows he doesn’t need good nutritional habits as a ghost, it just does Not sit right with him

Speaking of EJ and such, the other residents contribute a lot to helping BEN’s mental health

Mostly unintentionally, too

They just always keep things fun & fresh for him, like coaxing him out of his room, bargaining favors from him, getting him to do pranks—that sort of thing

He’s good friends with Jeff (as mentioned), Toby (they’re prank buddies), and he’s got a good amount of respect for Hoodie (even though they’re not super close, for similar reasons Jeff isn’t super close to Toby)

BEN’s also got a love-hate relationship with Dark Link, to the point where he’d probably consider him his nemesis

The two have a complicated relationship, but ultimately, his life would be missing something without Dark Link to constantly compete against

But other than that, he’s pretty neutral with a lot of the residents, simply by virtue of staying holed up in his room a lot of the time

With little to no purpose, our manses is really honestly just here to boyboss, gaslight, manipulate and be cringe

So things really aren’t too bad for him

At the end of the day, it’s hard to say whether he should be pitied or envied :”)

[landwriter]

Oaths | Dream/Hob | 58K | Explicit | Ongoing Ch.11: Unexpected Gifts (6K)

Falling In Love, Magical Realism, Dream is a Beautiful Fey Creature and Hob is a Handsome Bandit, Protective Hob Gadling, Protective Dream of the Endless, Historical References, Scotland, Middle English, Border Reiving, Adventure & Romance, Fairy Tale Retellings, Alternate Universe - Historical/Medieval/Fairy Tale, finding beauty in hard times, Oaths & Vows, Curses, Outdoor Sex, First Time Blowjobs, Frottage, Anal, Kissing in the Rain, really a lot of banging, Hair Braiding, Dirty Talk, Ballads, Duty, Friendship/Love, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication, Canon Echoes, Self-Denial, Repression, Tenderness, Confessions, Bathing/Washing, Strangers to Lovers, Lovers to Friends, Friends to Idiots, BAMF Hob Gadling, (absolutely fucking feral Hob Gadling), unhinged words and deeds, or: a man and a fey walk into a meadow and they're both equally insane

Dream drew to a stop and looked up at the moon, escaped from the clouds and shining like a pale sun above them. “You know,” he said, “I once hated you because I thought you as stubborn, brave, and foolish as I had been. I’m now certain you are worse.” “Far worse,” agreed Hob, taking his hand. “Strayed off the path a thousand more times than you did.” “Yes.” “I think,” said Hob, gently, and paused. “I think there might’ve been some luck involved too.” “Perhaps,” he said, not looking over.  “But it’s not better, is it?” His voice was as soft as the moon-damp moss under Dream’s feet.  “No. It’s not.” Hob squeezed his hand a little. “It’s not better, and nor is it fair.” “I saw no virtue in being brave,” he said. “I saw it only as my undoing and the pointless ruin of so much life.” Hob made a thoughtful sound beside him. “I still think it is, you know. I think it’s only out of necessity or else madness that I’ve ever been brave.” “Which one was I?” asked Dream, turning to look at him. “Bit of both.”

Doubts, a first night together, and different kinds of bravery.

[Read on AO3]

[citrusses]

burn it all down (it doesn't have to be like this) drarry reclist 💣

aka the wizarding world is canonically so fucked up, what if we destroyed every system it upholds? (and then kissed?)

This list was inspired by Lots of Feelings about the midterm elections/government/systems of oppression etc. These five fics explore (in very different ways) how power corrupts, how unchecked stagnancy in social norms enables injustice, and the many forms resistance can take (mind the tags on them, most are quite heavy). I love them all. Related: VOTE IF YOU CAN, WHEN YOU CAN, EVERY YEAR.

By the Grace by @letteredlettered (T, 140k)

Once a war was won, it should stay won. Once one made progress, one should stay ahead. Instead, twenty years later, the losers were all coming back, the losses were being lost again.

A perfect fic about the refusal of systems of power to change, and the courage of individuals to change in spite of them. Both Draco and Harry force themselves to grow radically and painfully in this story. While Draco’s evolution is loud and public, Harry’s is quiet and internal, and the story sets these narratives of their personal journeys against the broader shifts of magical society to posit that if individuals can evolve, maybe the rest of the world can, too.

The Beauty of Thestrals and Other Unseen Things by @writcraft (E, 63k)

Harry stares at Hermione. “You can’t send people to Azkaban for kissing.” “I’m not sending people to Azkaban for kissing,” Hermione replies, tartly. “You are.”

One of my favorite things about fiction, and fanfiction in particular, is that authors can eradicate the prejudices of our world in fantasy. If magic can be real, why shouldn't it eliminate hate?

But fiction can also hold up a mirror to the ugliness that exists in the world in which we live. Hate and homophobia are distressingly present this fic — and because of that, it feels so grounded in the world that was Harry Potter, where any explicit references to queerness happened off page, long after the books were written. This fic is set in a world where queer people are forced to exist on the margins and invisible. But it can be cathartic to take that repressive world and insist within it on the existence and the humanity of those it tries to ignore and erase. The Beauty of Thestrals does that masterfully. I wept reading this, it's painful but it's beautiful. A Young Radical's Guide to Love by @blamebrampton (T, 66k)

“I told you she was guilty,” Weasley said. “Innocent people don’t run.” “Yes they do,” said Potter, before Draco could get his voice to move past his outrage. “They run all the time if they’re frightened, and we are frightening. She’s not a threat, Percy, she’s not even a source of information about actual threats. You know I disagree with this policy and I don’t see the benefit in it.”

Such a well-paced, thrilling and moving story about the performance of justice versus actual justice, and the easy slide into authoritarianism to which democratic institutions (and "the good guys") are susceptible. Plus, I am absolutely WEAK for Harry and Draco (and friends!) against the world. any day now by @oknowkiss (E, 17k)

“Look,” Potter begins, voice low. “I know you think I’m an idiot, but I do notice things actually, and I don’t think this whole–” he flutters his hands in the air, searching for a word, “-- experiment is benefiting anyone. At least not anyone except the Minister. Did you know his approval rating jumped fifteen points after this place opened?” 

It's got Drarry AND a condemnation of the criminal justice system AND a Feelings Puppet, need I say more? Draco has been interred in a "reform" program for Death Eaters, and, like in every panopticon before it, those surveyed are used and abused in service of those in power. Draco is forced to learn, once again, that there are no good choices, only those you can live with. Harry, once again, tries to fix everything himself. It's sexy, it's angsty, and it has the gall to be so fucking funny while it rips your chest open and stomps on your heart.

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (E, 61k)

“There are over two thousand magical citizens of this country who have pledged to relinquish their magic in protest at the draconian and unjust policies of the magical government. But of course if Harry Potter doesn’t get it—” and here she does a cruelly accurate impression of Harry, which he thinks is a bit unnecessary “—then of course it can’t be worth doing.”

Hey it's pretty messed up that wizards can live for hundreds of years and have seemingly infinite resources but ignore non-magical people and let them, like, die en masse, huh? Draco thinks so! This fic is so soft and lovely, but it also will make you think about the power of protest, self-forgiveness, and sacrifice.

[iguessitsjustme]

I have not been able to stop thinking about this since episode 9 aired and I read an excellent insight into Pat’s character this morning by @wen-kexing-apologist so I wanted to talk about Jeng because he is the character that I relate to the most. Granted, I am not a high level manager in my parent’s successful company, BUT I’ve worked office jobs and I’ve been in management positions and overseeing people. Please keep in mind that I am approaching Jeng as a white queer person who was raised (all over) the United States so I can only truly add the perspective that gives me. Also I wrote this while bored at work so I was definitely not nearly as articulate as I like, and this might not be anyone else’s interpretation and I completely understand if you do not agree with me here. With that said, here we go:

I am probably the most cishet passing person in the world. There’s no particular reason for this other than it’s just the way I am and how I like to present. I don’t risk my safety by presenting queer, I just don’t. I live in a big city, my family is incredibly supportive, my friends are queer, a good number of my coworkers are queer, I am not closeted. But people see me and they assume that I am straight. For the purposes of this post I'm focusing on sexual orientation rather than gender what I’m focusing on because my relationship with gender right now is basically the shrug emoji. Despite being out as bi since I was 24 many years ago, I still find myself constantly coming out to people because if I say nothing, assumptions are made about me and those assumptions are based on a heteronormative worldview that society has cursed us all to and those assumptions about me are wrong. 

Now let’s look at Jeng. I’m not gonna mention Pat because I fully believe that Pat’s response to learning Jeng is attracted to men was entirely based on his own repressed feelings and not entirely an assumption that Jeng is straight. Jeng passes as straight. I’m sure that’s due to a combination of his position, his family, and just his overall personality. We know that Jeng is out to people. He talks to his friend about Pat, Jaab asks him about his feelings towards Pat, and when he brings Pat home, Jeng’s parents see Pat and make some assumptions about what occurred. So a significant number of people in Jeng’s life know that he is gay and it’s not only a significant number that know but the people closest to him know as well. The other people that are able to clock Jeng in this show are the other queer people. Chot and Jen just know. They see how he looks at and interacts with Pat and can see the humongous crush that Jeng is nursing. So Jeng is working under the assumption that around these people, he is out. He might present straight and he might keep that up for work purposes, but he believes himself to be out to at least the other queer people near him.

Then Pat says this:

And Jeng breaks. And I get that. Jeng knows that Pat is gay, Jeng thought that Pat knew he was gay. Jeng thought they were on the same page. Other queer people in Jeng’s life have known he was gay without him needing to explicitly state that. Pat, the person Jeng has been flirting with and has confessed to (while he was so drunk he couldn’t understand Jeng you beloved idiot) had no clue. At least that’s how it appears to Jeng, who is now in the unfortunate position of needing to out himself. Let me tell you something, it is exhausting to have to constantly come out to people. Every new person that I meet, if I want them to know that I am queer, I need to explicitly tell them because if I don’t, they will never know. I’ve had people think that I’m just a really good ally before. There are times I wish I was so entirely and visibly queer that no one would ever doubt it, and I’m sure Jeng felt that in this moment with Pat. It just takes one look at his face during this scene to know that Jeng has been here before and he is tired and his heart is breaking.

How many people do you think Jeng has had to make a choice between outing himself or letting them work with false assumptions regarding his sexuality? How many times has Jeng chosen to closet himself instead of being who he is? How many times has Jeng been interested in another man but had no chance because that person didn’t know or care to believe he is gay? Just needing to make the decision on whether or not to explicitly say, “Yes, I like men” or “I’m gay” is tiring in and of itself, but then the actual saying of the words? Depleting. Especially to someone who you thought already knew. It hurts when people think I’m just a really good ally. I can’t imagine the pain Jeng felt at Pat’s surprise because to Jeng, that surprise indicated that Pat saw him as a good ally (again, I do not think that’s what was going on with Pat but this is about Jeng and his interpretation) and not as someone with interest in him.

Then Jeng learns later on that Pat just doesn’t understand how someone like Jeng can like him. It doesn’t make sense to Pat. How many times has Jeng been made to feel like his sexuality, coming from him, doesn’t make sense? I’m sure his dad had some things to say about it. I’m sure part of the reason he left previously was due to that. So while Jeng is out, it is a constant coming out process and then an entire new process to get people to believe it. Jeng’s sadness is mostly about Pat rejecting him, but I’m sure at least a small part of it is also the tiny piece of him that was so sure that Pat at least knew he was gay.

Jeng now believes that Pat has only ever seen him as his straight boss and that can’t change. Pat sees him as a coworker, not even a friend, not even a member of the queer community. Just a coworker and nothing more. The revelation that Jeng likes and is attracted to men, made Pat uncomfortable. Is it because Jeng doesn’t obviously present as gay? Is it because he isn’t as clockable as someone like Chot? Now Jeng has to think of not only all of his interactions with Pat, but also all of his interactions with the other queer people in his office. Does he have to come out to them too or do they already know like he thought they did? Jeng was so busy being the most smitten man in the universe, it didn’t occur to him that his giant, massive, all-consuming crush on Pat might not have been obvious. I’m guessing the straight people in his office have been working under the assumption that he is straight. Will he need to come out to them too? He has been handling this for who knows how long, but this time, this time it HURTS.

Jeng was so worried about crossing the boundaries by being Pat’s boss that he didn’t even think about how dating a man would impact his worker’s perception of him. I don’t think he ultimately cares about what they think of his personal life or his personality as long as they are able to function as a department. But when Pat asked if he liked men, Jeng had to start reevaluating everything. Not just his interactions with Pat, but his interactions with the world. No wonder he seemed so just completely and utterly tired this episode. When Jeng and Pat finally work through their little miscommunication issues (which makes so much sense and work so well with this show I can’t even begin to describe my actual love for it which is weird cause miscommunication is my least favorite trope), I don’t think Jeng will actually change anything about the way he presents himself to the world. He still has his family to think about, and he’s still, well, he’s still Jeng. But I think this gave him some things to think about himself that he probably already knew but didn’t think he would have to explain to another queer person. Especially not Pat. Pat is out at the office, but it wasn’t entirely his choice. Pat outed himself so he would stop getting put in awkward conversations about the women in the office. Jeng might have seen something similar to himself in Pat. Pat could potentially pass as straight, and in fact did at the very beginning. He let people think he was dating a woman. Pat was careful who he came out to at the office. Jeng probably thought that of all people, Pat would understand him the best. Not explicitly out, but not in the closet either. How heartbreaking for both of them that their experiences clashed in such a way. But once those two get on the same page? They are gonna be the cutest couple in the entire world and I am so excited to see Jeng, finally, finally, be able to express his love for Pat to Pat as much as he wants to.

[29625]

I’m currently watching Suiyou Doudeshou (水曜どうでしょう) which is a Japanese cult classic travel show from mid 90s-early 00s featuring four (idiot) guys, and they get assigned rooms with double beds all the time.

ALL THE TIME.

(Well, something about Suzui-san/Misutaa screams girlypop loud n proud so I’m not really surprised. Source: my gaydar.)

So…Slimav with “only one bed” arch, soon? Maybe they (+Ice, of course) travel to Las Vegas or somewhere, and there are two rooms but one is a single bed room and the other is like a (barely) double bed room. Sli and Mav just lost so bad at the casino (plus Mav lost his wallet) so Ice is like man you losers can just cuddle on the single bed while I dominate the bigass mattress and they are like no, please have mercy.

A double bed.

Well, Sli and Mav—they are super good friends at this point. They hit off pretty well and they may or may not have gotten attached to each other.

Sli would be so stoked, a sleepover in a fancy hotel! But Mav? Oh god he’s just an awkward mess. (Guys, is it gay to want to cuddle with a buddy on a double bed like my other buddy joked earlier?)

Bonus points if Slider is feeling it, too—but he’s just too repressed as a gay man in the military he keeps shaking it off, trying to convince it’s just a phase for Mav’s part—until that short dark handsome bastard drops the L bomb.

[zambehnation]

They never kiss because in this one Wilson and Cuddy and the merry band of fellows convince House that he didn’t need to be miserable. Only he found he could be happy with someone else.

You’re jealous.

Of course, I’ve secretly harbored feelings for you all of this time. Leave your new lover. Come away with me instead.

Tempting. Except, you were never jealous of any of the other people I’ve been interested in— you were actually happy for me when I started dating Stacy. So, what’s changed? Is it because it’s a man?

You— actually think I’m jealous of you dating that man. I’m not— House, I have a patient in ten. Can we talk about this later? Or not because nothing’s wrong.

I asked if you wanted to get dinner. You said you were busy. You’re not. I checked with your secretary—

I had plans. I do have a life outside of this hospital that my secretary isn’t paid to manage.

There’s nothing, I would have known if—

What is it that you actually want? Why are you here? So, I missed this dinner. We can reschedule. I’m free tomorrow night. We’ll finally meet and I’m sure I’ll approve of him because anyone who makes you less of an ass is good in my book.

You’re avoiding me. I don’t care if you don’t approve of him. I care that we haven’t hung out since you found out. You’re not homophobic or else I’d have run you off sooner with all the gay jokes and the flirting. You’re jealous because I’m dating a man. But Pookie, you shouldn’t, because you’re still number one.

I’m not— It’s just a little weird. You never told me and now I’m just supposed to accept— I’m the one who’s always been there for you— through the leg and Stacy leaving and the addiction and the destruction. I stood next to you, given you everything you needed, everything I could.

Why isn’t it me?

That sounds a lot like a confession which if it is…is terrible.

It’s that serious?

You like him?

You’ve been pushing me to let other people in since you’ve known me— to move on from Stacy (from you), to try (to fall in love, be happy)—

Does it have to be with him?

It could have been with you.

—And now what? You suddenly decide to act like an idiot because there’s someone else or is it because you think that I owe you enough to sleep with you? That it? After all this time, you banked enough to collect on the fuck the cripple credits?

Don’t cheapen this. You know that’s not what I meant. If I had known there was a chance—

How could you not have known?

I didn’t know you liked men. You’re not as transparent as you think.

Not to anyone else. But to you? You’re as obsessive about me as I am of you. You notice everything and you’re proud when you’ve figured me out, when you’re right about me. So how could you have gotten this wrong?

You know I—?

I want you.

That you wanted me? Yeah.

I’ve always known. It wasn’t a problem. I wanted you too.

But you never said anything.

You hide. You repress. You get married (to other people). You could have said something, but you didn’t because you weren’t going to risk it so why should I?

Because you’re not afraid of risking anything even when you have everything to lose. You’re the adrenaline junkie. You thrive on the knife edge. Maybe there was something there to lose if you’d told me the truth and told me that you knew how I felt but for some reason you decided you weren’t going to risk it.

You think it’s not worth it if you can’t risk losing it.

No, I wasn’t.

Why?

It doesn’t matter. (You could have said something, and I still wouldn’t have let you because you stay when you’re needed. I’ve never seen you stay because you were loved.)

You want it not to matter? (But you want me.) You want to stay just… friends? (But I want you. We could be more, and we could be good, but you’d rather we pretend?)

Yeah. (No. Call me out. You’re supposed to be brave.)

Okay. I’ll come to dinner.

[girlwiththepapatattoo]

The Unlikely Similarities Between Kittens and Vampires, Chapter 3

Warnings: sexual tension, a frank description of arousal, Astarion being himself, a bit of angst

Summary: Feelings are hard for repressed idiots.

Notes: Can I stop writing for them? No, not really. Do I mind? No, not really.

Read on ao3 here!

Chapters: 1, 2

The very next day, Sable knows that she’d made a grave mistake by using her cat form in front of Astarion. 

For now he had a new nickname for her. 

“Well, good morning, kitten,” he simpers, waltzing up to her as she stretches outside her tent. “I do hope you slept well last night.” 

Pausing mid-stretch, she can feel her face go hot. “W-What did you call me?” 

“Oh, kitten? I thought it fitting, considering…well, you know,” he says with a laugh, then cocks his head. “Why?” He feigns concern. “Do you not like it?” 

The look in his eyes is pure pleased villainy, and she has to resist the urge to kis-smack it off his beauti-vexing face. “...call me whatever you want, I don’t care,” she grounds out, and stomps off toward the nearby stream to wash the sleep from her skin. 

“Oh, you are just so cute,” he chortles, and goes back to his tent to get ready for their travels ahead. 

/////////////////////////////////////////

The day is mostly uneventful, save for taking out a goblin scouting party, but that night threatens storms. Lightning flashes in the distance and thunder rolls through the hills as they all hurriedly set up their tents. Dinner is spent separately, eating their rations in solitude as the heavens rage above them. 

It gives Sable time to think as she stares up at the ceiling. So much has changed in only a few short days…she worries her bottom lip as she realizes that even in such a short time, she’s not the same woman she was. 

She doesn’t know yet if that’s a good thing or not. 

All she knows is, between the tadpole in her head, the strong personalities in camp, and knowing that soon they’ll be storming a goblin camp? She’d like to turn into her cat form and stay that way. 

Any further musings, however, are dashed as she suddenly sees a shadow in a flash of lightning, standing outside her closed tent flap. She grips a dagger, her focus sharpening, ready to strike.

“Sable!” comes Astarion’s voice, sounding quite urgent. “Sable, are you awake?! Let me in, this storm is ruining my hair!” 

She gapes for a second, before letting go of the knife and untying the tent flap. As soon as there’s enough room for him to come in he dives through the opening, and she ties it back closed. “What are you doing here, Astarion?” she demands. 

“Come now, is that any way to greet a friend? A friend who, may I remind, braved this dreadful storm to come and visit?” he replies, pouting, rainwater dripping off his nose. He’s nearly soaked through, and Sable rolls her eyes and tosses a towel over his head. 

“You could have been nice and dry in your own tent,” she grumbles, settling cross-legged onto her bedroll. There’s not much room in her tent, and so they’re sitting rather close, a fact that she tries to ignore (and fails, if the rising blush says anything about it.) “Could this not have waited until the storm passed?” 

“This is the kind of storm that will be here all night, I’m afraid,” he replies, toweling off his hair and shoulders. “And unless you want to make good on our deal in broad daylight in front of everyone…” 

Her brows furrow in confusion, before she remembers the previous night. “Oh, right.” A particularly vicious peel of thunder makes her jump a little, and she swallows hard. 

He looks at her in the darkness. “Not having second thoughts, I hope.” 

“No, not…not about you drinking my blood at least. I trust you enough.” 

“Oh, glad to hear it! How about we make ourselves comfortable, hm? Go on and lie down, my sweet kitten.” 

She huffs at him, but does as he bids. “I can’t believe you’re going to call me that,” she grumbles, getting comfortable. 

“I think it’s rather cute. And unless you truly, deeply despise it, I shan’t be stopping,” he sniffs in return. Then he shifts over her, the confined space forcing him to straddle her hips. The sight of him there, sitting on her as though a lover might, makes her go rigid underneath him, squeeze her eyes shut, and look away. “Now, this will never do. Relax, or it will hurt more.” 

“S-Sorry,” she gasps, trying desperately not to give in to the impulse to shape change. 

He watches as she struggles to relax, her eyes darting back and forth under their lids. His teeth ache, the predator in him urging him to take her lifeblood, practically tasting her fear. He pushes the impulse away. Normally he’d be all for it, would relish inflicting real hurt…but not with her. 

Never with her. 

And he doesn’t want to contemplate that right now, thank you.

“Tell me what’s wrong, kitten. You’re terrified.” His voice is low, soothing, and that is definitely not helping matters.

She swallows hard, opens her eyes again, but the beautiful sight before her is too much. Her eyes slam shut again, and she has to resist squeezing her thighs together.

He makes a soft tsking sound, then pauses. His nostrils flare. Beneath the ozone from the storm, beneath the scents of a long road traveled is…sweetness. A heady, cloying sweetness that he’s smelled…well. Often enough. 

“Ah.” He smirks faintly, taking in her state. “I am flattered, darling. But why the trembling? I’d be more concerned if you weren’t attracted to me.” He leans down, slowly so he doesn’t spook her. He braces himself on his forearms and positions his lips close to her ear. “Is my little kitten untouched?” he whispers. 

A whimper rips from her throat before she can stop it. Desperately embarrassed, she hides her face behind her hands. “S-Shut up, Astarion! Just take what you need!” 

He chuckles, low and dark and infinitely pleased, the sound a caress over her jaw. “Well, that’s a rather open ended statement, Sable. Especially for someone like me. But…I suppose I’ll stop teasing. Your virtue is safe, darling. I’d never touch you like that without your permission…” His lips brush over the shell of her pointed ear, and another strangled noise bursts from her lips. “Mmm, I think I may have found my new favorite sound.” 

Her body’s drawn toward him, a pull, a tug for this man that she barely understands. Her breath comes in quick pants, her hands clinging to the back of his shirt, a fire raging under her skin. 

She’s pretty sure she knows how Karlach feels now, if in a more metaphorical sense. 

“P-Please,” she whispers, and she has absolutely no idea what she’s asking for. 

He pauses, something in her tone demanding his attention. He pulls back ever so slightly to gauge her body language. Her face is flushed, her hips squirming without her even realizing it, he can see the juts of her hardened nipples through her sleep shirt. Physically, she’s more than ready for him…but…

There’s a mix of want and nervousness in her expression. Almost fear. This is uncharted territory for her, and someone as shy as Sable needs to be eased into sex. And this encounter tonight is very much not that. 

He softens. Something tugs hard in his chest (figuratively, of course, there hasn’t been actual movement in there for centuries), and instead of continuing to tease her, to rile her up…he brushes a tender, gentle kiss over her cheek and pulls away. 

Her eyes snap open, watching as that beautiful face moves away from her and his hands reach for the ties to the tent flap. “W-Where are you going?” she whispers. 

He pauses, and he doesn’t look at her, not wanting her to see the vulnerability in his eyes. “Ah, well, back to my tent. It seems…I’ve no need to feed tonight after all,” he murmurs. 

She stares at him. “Oh.” Her voice sounds much smaller than she’d like. “I…did I do something wrong?” 

“What?” Sounding incredulous, he finally turns to her, brow furrowing. “My dear kitten, of course not!” He sighs, sitting back a little and looking down. He has to force the words out. “I believe that I…may have gotten ahead of myself, that’s all.” He looks back up, meeting her confused gaze, and he gave her a faint smirk. “Don’t think this gets you out of our deal. I’m simply…delaying it for a night. It’s too stuffy in this tent anyway.” 

He goes back to work on the ties, his silhouette outlined with another flash of lightning. And when the light fades…he’s gone. 

She stares out into the dark for a long moment, the pouring rain falling unheeded into her tent, and wonders why she feels like crying.

[sitp-recs]

Happy birthday darling @nv-md! I can’t think of anyone more present, cheerful or supportive than Ali. She’s always so kind, so positive and genuinely encouraging to everyone around her, and also super enthusiastic about all fandom related things. Her passion for Drarry and rare pairs is absolutely infectious, and I feel like we are especially connected through our sordid rare pairs interests 👯‍♀️ not to mention her wit and sense of humor - Ali is such a fun person to be around and that translates into her fics, too. It’s impossible not to smile or laugh out loud with the hilarious shenanigans she comes up with - or drool over her sexy & scorching hot smut 🔥

Ali is a fandom champion and embodies what this experience is supposed to be about imo - finding joy in creating and engaging. She’s a writer, beta, cheerleader and still finds time to carefully read, comment and reblog everything else. Whenever I’m leaving a comment on a fic I find out that Ali’s already been there spreading gentle encouragement. Her presence is truly inspiring and reminds me of what it means to be part of something bigger, and to be there for your friends. So much of what she does goes unnoticed behind the scenes and I wanted to highlight those contributions as well. Now, on to my favourite Ali treats (lol I almost wrote “threats” which they might be! Killing us with softness 😔). As I said, she’s equally passionate about Drarry and rare pairs - from tooth rotting fluff to unapologetic filthy porn, she’s written some of my favourite tropes for my favourite ships, and I’m so happy that I get to feast on her works for free. Happy birthday my friend, I hope you have a day as sweet and fun as you are! Thank you for being you 💗

Drarry

Have I Told You About My Vampire Boyfriend? (M, 1.1k)

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Bonds, Besties, and Boners: Draco Malfoy’s Guide to Getting a Boyfriend (E, 4k)

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On Hope & Healing (E, 14k)

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Harry's in love with Draco, but it's complicated. Even more complicated than 'I'm in love with my ex-archnemesis and I get dizzy every time I see him smile'.

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It’s not easy to be bonded to your childhood rival, turned fuckbuddy, who you also have extremely uncomfortable but repressed feelings for—just ask Draco Malfoy.

Rare pairs

Savage Altruism (T, 428 words) - Harry/Hermione

A cursed statue is determined to keep Harry and Hermione from love.

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Can't I Have Both? (E, 1.8k) - Omegaverse Harry/Draco/Blaise

Werewolves usually only have one mate, but of course, Draco has to be special and have two Alphas chasing after him. And he makes sure they always want him...especially when he can drag them into the loo of a club.

True Love Blooms (E, 7k) - Harry/Theo

The flower tattoos on Theo's back paint the story of his and Harry's relationship: two boys falling in love and making their relationship work, no matter what.

Overexposed (E, 10k) - Harry/Teddy/Draco

Teddy never expected to become a model for Nimbus, and he definitely didn't expect any of the adverts to catch Harry and Draco's attention. But now that it's happened, Teddy can't deny he gets a thrill every time he catches Harry and Draco staring, and he's going to do everything he can to keep their eyes on him.