#even if you are having a hard day. i’m sending those little hearts to tell you that you are trying your best and you are lovely and

[euphor1a]

Me n @bobeo go months without any proper interaction or whatsoever and then on a random day start talking like we’ve been keeping touch every now and then and know everything that has been going on in our lives lskdhkdkfgj 😭; it’s so funny, but like. That’s the shit, ya know? ✨✨

[tired-biscuit]

i want to ride yuuji so bad and then start crying cause he’s so thick and big and then have his strong arms wrap around me and then he starts thrusting up and we’re both drooling and moaning that would be a dream

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: good girl, good girl, GOOD GIRL!

he’s cooing at you while caressing your cheeks and wiping your tears away, and it’s all so goddamn sweet that it outright hurts; in a good way, though.

always in a good way when it’s with him.

especially because he does it so effortlessly? being kind is like second nature to someone like yuuji and it’s hard not to melt into a puddle of gooey emotions and spill even more tears when he’s looking up at you with hearts in his warm honey-coloured eyes and there’s this prominently lovestruck look on his face that makes him look even dumber than he already is.

but he’s also cute, awfully so. his hair is an absolute mess, his lips are in the colour of dark pink from all the kissing, his cheeks are flushed, and his skin burns so hot that he’s sweating like crazy underneath the thick hoodie that he’s still got on. you’ve been in such a rush to get him inside you that you’re both still completely dressed, aside from the bits of clothing that have been tugged down and pushed to the side in order to make the entire thing easier for you, of course.

however, having all these layers on is simply excruciating. the heat makes him pant and causes his chest to heave in a faster rhythm than normal; and all those breaths make it somewhat hard to get all the praise that he feels for you out of his system.

but yuuji is no quitter. so he swallows the runny saliva that keeps on gathering in his mouth between sentences and threatens to spill past the corner of his lips. it’s audible and it makes his adam’s apple bob in his throat, and yet he still manages to thank you in hushed, trembling whispers and broken grunts and moans.

he thanks you for being such a good girlfriend; for being so willing to give it a chance when it comes to riding him and taking him in all the way, despite the fact that it’s only been a couple of days since he’s taken your virginity and your most sensitive parts are still sore and tender from all the gentle pounding — but pounding nevertheless — he had done after getting his first taste.

you feel heat sear your face as you listen to the jumble of gratitude he’s putting before you and look at him from underneath your lashes, trying to not pay mind how tears still cling to them as stubbornly as ever.

this entire thing has not gone the way you’ve imagined it to go at all and it’s frustrating as hell. and how couldn’t it be? i mean, you’ve known how big he is, have known how it feels to have him inside you, but jesus fucking christ, this position is nowhere as easy as missionary had been — and even then you’d struggled a great deal.

because now, you’re the one who has to do all the work while he sits there, looking pretty, sometimes eyeing how your arousal glistens on his pubic hair, even though your clit hasn’t come anywhere near to kissing the spot from how much of a hard time you’re having when it comes to sitting on his dick entirely.

if only you could just—

“hey,” he says the word with such care as he cups your cheek that it sends butterflies twirling in your belly. his hand is just so big, it urges you to pet yourself against it like a little kitty. “you okay?” yet another look that’s brimming with concern is thrown your way. “we don’t have to do this if it’s too much, you know… just tell me.”

“did you really mean all that?” you mumble the exact moment his hands reach for your hips, clearly aiming to manhandle you into a position that you’d be able to endure a bit better.

“mean what?” he asks, glancing downwards just for a second as your hands stop his own. his cock twitches in response — he’s always been such a sucker for hand holding and this time is no exception. when your fingers intertwine, his heart sings in answer.

“that i’m a good girl?” the eye contact that you initiate in return is determined instead of anxious all of a sudden and it makes his pupils visibly dilate right in front of you.

it seems like you’re no quitter either.

“‘course i did,” yuuji replies in a heartbeat, cherishing how you squeeze around him whenever he gives you his approval, his praise. “you’re such a good girl, my good girl, the goodest girl to ever walk the good girl planet... they should make you mayor of goodie town.”

you giggle at that and his smile quivers with pleasure from how it makes your pussy tighten even more. he’s doing everything he can not to grab you, press you against his chest and just follow instinct and start slamming away.

maybe next time… maybe you’ll be ready for it next time.

“you’re so silly,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, though this time on the forehead. his skin tastes salty, and while it may be wrong, knowing that you’re not the only one that’s having a hard time right now makes you feel just a little bit calmer.

unbeknownst to you, the fact that you’re more relaxed allows you to take yet another inch of him inside you. your muscles slacken and his fat cockhead drags against your walls as a result, slipping and pushing in, in, in. the ring of cloudy white slick forms just a little below the lower half of his cock now, stretching you further and making your tummy feel hot and tingly.

it’s definitely progress.

and it makes poor yuuji moan straight into your mouth.

[babyleostuff]

call me back

fluff (+ a bit of angst) 𐙚 established relationship 𐙚 idol!hoshi x fem!reader 𐙚 wc: 1.6k

. . . fighting with you is never easy for hoshi. especially not when an ocean is separating you

was fighting over the last piece of cake stupid and immature? yes. did it feel like hoshi’s whole world was about to collapse when he noticed you ate it? double yes. while your boyfriend wasn’t known for his great patience and non-existent anger issues, he never took his anger out on you, no matter how frustrated and annoyed he was.

well - until last week. 

hoshi came home tired and very, very hungry, nothing out of the ordinary, though you could clearly see he was a lot more agitated than usual, so you did what you always did when he came back exhausted like that - gave him space. you were just about to start your nighttime routine when you heard your name being yelled from the kitchen, and not in a happy “baby, my love, my darling, please come hereeee” kind of way. 

you didn’t even get a chance to take a breath as you entered the kitchen, coming face to face with soonyoung and his angry pout. “where the fuck is my cake?” he asked, and now, a week later, his words were still echoing through his head. 

it was never his intention to lash out at you like that. obviously. he was tired, and hungry, his muscles were aching, he felt like a bad boyfriend for spending so little time with you, and he forgot to buy a gift for his mom's birthday - not that it mattered, nothing could excuse him for being so mean to you. to make matters worse, instead of acting like a man and begging on his knees for your forgiveness, he chickened out and just left. 

“man, why don’t you just don’t call her and apologise?” woozi sighed, throwing his head back because it had to be the tenth time he had to listen to hoshi’s story of how he decided to act like the biggest dick over an overpriced piece of a strawberry cake. 

“i did but she’s not answering.” 

“no shit, i wouldn’t have answered either.” 

and that exactly was the biggest problem - it was hard enough to go through a fight while he was home, but now that he was overseas, a thousand kilometres away from you it was impossible. yes, he could send you flowers and shit, but it would only piss you off even more. there was no way for him to show you how truly fucking sorry he was. 

“i know you’re angry with me right now, but please,” hoshi took in a shaky inhale. he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so… sad. “please, just call me back,” that had to be the tenth voicemail he left you ever since he left home. 

you, on the other hand, weren’t doing much better. you felt like slapping the shit out of him that night in your apartment, and although you were able to control your sudden surge of violence, you didn’t hold back on cursing him out after he left. you even thought about burning his side of the closet but if you did that you’d lose all of your favourite hoodies and flannels, so you gave up on that too. 

after your short rage situation, you sat down at kitchen island, and stared at the empty plate where soonyoung’s cake was supposed to be. how were you supposed to know he’d act like that over a cake? obviously you wouldn’t have eaten it then. you figured your boyfriend must’ve had a really bad day at the rehearsals. the past couple of days were really harsh on him, and if you could you’d wrap him in bubble wrap, a couple of blankets, and cuddle the shit out of him for being so strong through all of this. 

all of those excuses for him and still - you couldn’t bring yourself to answer his calls and texts, no matter how much listening to his voicemails broke your heart. 

“so, um, i know we’re not talking but i’m just calling to tell you good morning. remember to eat, and um, have a great day, baby.” 

the boys were slowly losing their patience too (seungcheol asked mingaho if he could share some of his calming tea) because a grumpy hoshi was never a fun hoshi, plus - they hated seeing their best friend constantly beating himself over your fight. there was something lacking without their performance team leader’s spark. 

“should we just call her?” mingyu looked over at soonyoung, who was sitting by himself in the corner of the room. “he looks pathetic, moping around like that,” he snorted. 

seungcheol groaned, banging his head on jeonghan's shoulder. as they started to get older he started to feel less like a leader but more like a therapist (he really thought about resigning the day seungkwan came whining about a love triangle he got himself into). “they are adults, they should figure it out between themselves.” 

“oh come on, do we have to remind you what we had to do for you when you forgot about your girlfriend's birthday so she would forgive you?” mingyu snickered, and pulled out his phone. 

you didn’t know what to expect when you saw mingyu’s picture flash over your phone screen. it definitely had something to do with your boyfriend, that much you gathered, but you weren’t sure you wanted to hear what he had to say. your boyfriend’s words really hurt you, and no matter how much you wanted to forgive him, you weren’t sure you could do it yet. 

eventually, you clicked on the green button with a shaky finger. “yes?” you took a deep inhale and prepared yourself for whatever you were about to hear. 

“okay, so you know exactly why i’m calling. your boyfriend looks like a kicked puppy, he stopped saying horanghae, he’s dressed all in black and he looks like he drank an entire bottle of soju. i mean, don't worry, he didn't do it because he would be reeling now, but you get what i mean. whatever happened between the two of you, give us back our hoshi."

"well, that was very tactful," you heard coups' voice in the background.

“can you shut up for one second?” 

“no, in fact i can’t.” 

“okay, boys, i don’t want to interrupt whatever is going on, but i really need to know if he’s doing as bad as you're saying.” 

“bad” didn’t even come close to what hoshi was feeling. at this point he was so angry and frustrated at himself for acting like he acted, that seriously had to be one of his lowest points of his life achievements. now you were going to dump him, and he’d have to drown himself in soju, and grow a beard, and write a sad love song that he’d hear at the radio for the rest of his life, and-

there was no way you were calling him right now. and yet, “h-hello? babe?” 

“no, the fucking pope,” he’d have to add a cabin in the woods to his list of what he’d do after you’d break up with him. “kwoon soonyoung, you have to be one of the most insufferable, impatient and immature people i know. all this because of a piece of cake? do you hear how childish that sounds?"

loud and clear, honey. 

“that’s why i didn’t apologise in the first place. i immediately realised how fucking stupid i acted, and felt so ashamed of saying all of those awful things to you, and so i just left.” 

you sighed defeated. you kind of anticipated him saying that - your boyfriend had a habit of doing things before thinking them over, and as much as you understood him being exhausted and overworked, you still couldn’t forget how small he made you feel that night. 

“look, i really don’t want to fight, being away from you is hard enough, but…,” you ran a hand over your face. what were you supposed to do? you spent the last three nights on the couch because you couldn’t fall asleep in your shared bed, and there were so many times when you wanted to text him about the most unserious things that only he’d get, but you just couldn’t. “your words really hurt me.” 

“i know, shit, i know, and i’m so fucking sorry. whatever i’ll say it won’t be enough, i should’ve apologised right away. fuck, your boyfriend is such a loser,” you heard him laugh, but it was not the usual soonyoung laugh that made the flowers bloom, and sun shine. “i understand if you want to take a break.” 

“that’s the thing, i don’t want to take any breaks. i miss you so much. i miss talking to you every night, i miss our silly conversations, i miss getting my daily hoshi boyfriend pics. i’m sick of seeing your face on twitter and not over face time,” you pulled the sleeve of his sweater over your hand, like it would make you feel any closer to him. “let’s take it slow, maybe?”

you could swear you heard soonyoung exhale, “yes, yes, let’s do that. whatever you need, babe,” he said immediately. “my poor baby must’ve been so nervous.” 

“i love you, you know,” you whispered. there was no point in making things worse and pretending that you didn't miss him, and even though it would probably be a while before everything went back to normal, you didn't want him to doubt whether you still loved him as much as you did before.

“i love you too. very much,” he whispered back, finally sounding a bit happier. “and baby? thank you for calling me back.

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[lokis-army-77]

A request for you: hugging best friend!Eddie and he pops a boner. Do what you will with this information. - @munson-blurbs 💚

Recipes for Romance

Bestfriend!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 2.1k

When your best friend comes home while you're cooking dinner and something happens. . .

Warning: 18+. Oral (m receiving), gagging, choking, masturbation, cum swallowing

Thank you @munson-blurbs for sending this in.. I do believe this is the best BJ I've written 💗💗.

Masterlist

It's funny how love happens. One minute you're friends with someone and then the next, you realize something fundamental in your relationship has changed. No longer were you childhood best friends living together in a small, two-bedroom apartment trying to make a place for yourselves in this world. Now, you were childhood best friends who live together but one of you has an unrequited crush on the other. 

Simple chores around the house and just hanging out with one another have turned into something more domestic on your end. You could see yourself coming home to him so easily. 

Really, what would change if you were to tell him? Nothing, other than he would kiss you when you came home instead of only giving you a hug and asking what was on the menu for dinner that night. 

That's where you were tonight. In the kitchen, chopping up ingredients for dinner like usual, thanks to Eddie's lack of expertise in anything other than pizza rolls and microwavable macaroni cups. If it had been left up to him both of you probably would have starved by now. 

It was nearing eight when Eddie strolled through the apartment door, guitar slung on his back and an amp being hoisted up in his arms. Oh, those arms. He was wearing a black muscle shirt, perfect for the summer heat and showing off the delicious-looking veins that protrude from them. 

“Hey, Eds!” You call out to him. 

He grumbles out, “Hey,” in response, and fumbles with his things all the way down the hallway behind you, to your right, and into his room. 

It’s a few moments and chopped cilantro later that you hear his bare feet padding back to where you are. 

“How was your day?” The question comes out smoothly, without a thought, because you had been asking him this same thing forever. 

“Good," he answers. “I’m exhausted.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing dinner's almost ready, then you can go to bed.” You move about the small rectangular kitchen area with the grace that comes with knowing the area like the back of your hand. 

You’re stirring the warming spaghetti sauce so that it doesn’t burn to the bottom of the pan when you feel those same bare arms you had been lustfully gazing at only a short while before reaching around your hips. You stop, freezing your movements to focus on how not to let Eddie feel the racing of your heart. 

His chin rests on your shoulder and his hair tickles your neck. “Smells good,” he mumbles. 

You blush. You know he’s talking about the food but you wish he were talking about you. It was always nerve-wracking for you when he got clingy like this. Knowing you couldn’t just relax into him how you wanted. Having to hold yourself back from turning your head and giving him a peck on the lips. 

Eddie continued to watch you cook, nuzzling his nose deeper into the crook of your neck. You were hyper-aware of his lips on your bare skin and you were even more aware of growing hardness pressing against your ass. 

Your face heats up even more as you think to yourself, ‘Why god? Why do this to me?’ It’s a struggle to keep stirring the food when all your attention is focused on your best friend's dick. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, the movement has Eddie humming into your neck and making him harden even more. 

One of his hands unwraps from around you and grips your hip. You can feel his breathing becoming more labored as he struggles behind you. 

You reposition yourself once more, this time pushing back into him just a little. Eddie can’t catch the strangled moan that flies up from his throat. 

“Fuck.” His lips move across your skin like a hot branding iron, saying your name breathlessly. 

“Eddie?” You question innocently. 

“Hum?” He replies. 

You push the saucepan back onto a cool part of the stovetop and turn the once-in-use eye off. 

“Are you…” You can’t bring yourself to say it out loud, but he knows your silent query. 

It takes him a moment to say anything. He swallows hard and nods. “Yeah. Shit, I’m sorry.” He squeezes your hip with his large hand and begins to back away. 

“Wait!” Your voice is louder than you had anticipated it to be but the urgency in it stops Eddie before he is fully separated from you. “Eddie, wait,” you say much softer this time. 

He stops, the tips of his fingers barely touching you. You turn around in his light hold, eyes staring up into his. Your heart is beating a mile a minute as you say, “I can help with that y’know.” 

Eddie sputters, seemingly choking on air. “W-what?” His face blushed a deep red and it flushed all the way down his neck.

Taking a breath, you try and calm yourself down. Those six words can’t be taken back now, but why would you want to do that anyway? The thought of his hard cock filling your mouth was the only thing running through your mind and now that a chance had arisen, you were going to take it. 

“I said,” You trail your hand down down down until you are cupping him over his jeans. “I can help with that… Unless you don’t want me to.” 

Eddie’s eyes go wide and he opens and closes his mouth like he’s trying to find the words to say only to be left mute. Instead, he nods his head, letting his curls cover his face. 

You turn your bodies, pushing him up against the counter, and with less practiced grace than moving about the kitchen, you begin to undo his pants. His breath catches and he looks away from you for only a moment when your hand dips past the waistband of his pants. 

“Oh god-” He swallows. 

Ever so slowly you begin your descent to your knees, taking his pants and boxers down with you. The sight left before you makes your mouth water and your legs clench. He looks painfully hard, the tip flush and a bead of pre-cum pooling at the slit. You ached to run your tongue over the vein protruding down his shaft, you needed to have his balls in your mouth. 

So, that’s what you do. From base to tip you lick a fat, wet strip up him. His hips jerk forward, one hand caught in your hair, and the other holds on for dear life to the edge of the counter. You lick again and again, over and over. 

“Fuck-,” your name falls from Eddie's lips in a whimper. That sound had your stomach flipping and your pussy fluttering. You needed him to do that again.  

You start to pepper kisses along his shaft, ending at his head and giving it one big smooch before opening and taking him into your mouth. 

Eddie tugs on your hair at the first experimental suck that you give him. You can't help but moan at the slight pain. Taking him a bit more you suck again, gentle and with little force. 

"Ah-." There it was, that whiny sound. 

You bring your hand up to wrap around the length of him not nestled in the warmth of your mouth. Giving him a firm squeeze you begin to move. Up and down, up and down. You follow your hand with your mouth. 

The hot and tangy taste of him spreads across your tongue and pre-cum just dribbles out of him. Really, it makes you salivate, it makes you wet. And what really turns you on is knowing that this is your best friend. This is the guy you've known since forever. The guy you never thought you would ever be doing this with. 

It made you hungry for more, needy, and unsatisfied. You dip your head further down, lips meeting your fingers at his base.

"Oh God. Oh fuck." Another strangled whimper followed by the prettiest grunts and groans. Your other hand, resting on Eddie's thigh, could feel how his leg tensed with every suck, with every nudge of the back of your throat. Then he jerked forward again. His cock buries deep into your throat.

You choke and gag around him, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth and falling down your neck. Tears sting in your eyes but you let him thrust into you. 

Eddie says your name like a prayer. It flows from his lips in a melody only for you. He’s got your hair fisted in his hand, fingers digging into your skull. Your own fingers dig into his strong thighs. Then, he lets you go and you pull away fast for air. A string of drool connects your lips to his cock. 

“Eddie,” You say as you look up at him through thick lashes and heavy eyes. 

“Mmm.” He hums, head falling to the side. 

“You taste so good. Want you to cum down my throat.” 

He looks down at you in such a way that you think you can see something other than love for a friend. Something more potent, something like what you feel for him. It makes the breath catch in your lungs. 

Eddie releases his grasp on your hair and smooths his hand down and onto your cheek. His thumb rubs light circles into your skin. You lean in more, scooting closer to him on your knees, ignoring the numbness in them. 

The cheek he isn’t touching rests on his thigh and you continue to look up at him as you take his cock fully in your hand and start pumping. 

Eddie bites his lip but that doesn’t stop the moans. “God damnit, baby…” 

He’s never called you that before. Sure a pet name here and there, sweetheart or something of the sort, but never baby. The name had you aching with need and it only took a few more high-pitched whimpers from Eddie to have you shoving your other hand down your shorts. 

You were drenched, wetness pooled in your panties and around your fingers as you swiped them through your folds. You trail your lips down to his balls and kiss them before sucking one into your mouth. 

There is a moment when you think Eddie is going to fall on top of you. You feel his knees buckle and his feet shuffling to keep himself upright. 

You let go of him with a pop and then take the other into your mouth, warming him and running your tongue over the skin. 

“Fuck fuck fuck. Baby- mmm,” Eddie can’t keep quiet and you don’t want him to. The louder he is, the more it encourages you. 

After a few more pumps of your hand, you move your mouth back to the tip of his cock and take him deep. This time when he hits the back of your throat, you don’t gag as bad but tears still swell in your eyes. You let him buck his hips into you, following his rough pace with your hand as you rub your fingers into your clit. 

“Gonna cum baby, fuck gonna make me cum. Such a pretty mouth." Eddie blubbers. "Fuck I love you, baby. Gonna fill that mouth up. You gonna swallow all of it, baby?"

You hum around his cock at his words. Heart beating faster and safer as your own orgasm begins to come forward. 

With a hand buried in your hair again. Eddie pushes you down onto his cock, nose pressed against his abdomen and drool spilling down your chin. You feel him twitch and watch through tear-rimmed eyes as his head falls back and his mouth hangs open. Eddie lets out the most lewd-sounding moan as he releases his sticky, hot cum down your throat. 

You swallow and swallow, consuming all that he gives you. Your hand still works between your thighs and in a gush of pleasure, you can feel your release dripping over your fingers. 

Pulling away from Eddie, his cock now softening, you catch your breath. You move to sit more comfortably on the floor and lean your forehead on Eddie's left knee. 

"Wow…" Eddie heaves out. "That was- that was fucking amazing." His grip eases in your hair and then he's adjusting himself back into his pants before sitting on the floor with you. 

"Look at me?" He asks. You're avoiding eye contact with him, embarrassment of the actions and words just exchanged flooding through you. 

"Sweetheart, please look at me." He pleaded.

That name had you looking timidly through your hair. Those big, brown eyes caught yours and in that moment you knew that another fundamental piece of your relationship had changed. 

No longer was it two childhood best friends living together with one having a crush on the other. No. It was now two childhood best friends who loved each other in every way, who were once too scared to say anything lest they break up the friendship. 

[wintfleur]

🪷 hugging them tight without saying any words when they're having a hard time, with luke Hughes! his older sister and he just needs his sisters comfort especially after how the devils have played and how tired luke has looked

౨ৎ Ice cream and much-needed hugs

﹕─┈ pairings ( Luke Hughes x older sister! reader )

°. — summary ( Luke’s been having a tough time, and his big sister just wants to cheer him up ! )

°. — details ( g; little bit of angst, some fluff. w; none that I know of wc; 2.2k )

﹕─┈ prompt ~ hugging them right without saying any words when they’re having a hard time

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( LUKEY AHHH MY LOVE ! I love Luke sm if you guys didn’t know !!! I love writing sibling dynamics so muchhhh so thank you for sending the wonderful request !!! I absolutely loved writing it, I really tried to make it angsty but i think I’m terrible at writing angst, I’m sorry if the ending is kinda rushed, I was struggling sooo bad with the dialogue . . . also I of course had to add the love of my Like Brock boeser in it because like DUHHH I am so down for writing more for a older Hughes sister, I’m thinking she’s like 25??? I really hope you guys love it !!! Let me know if you want me to write more for older sister Hughes! Please don’t be a silent reader lovely’s !!! )

1k celly masterlist main masterlist nhl masterlist

There were a lot of upsides that came with being the oldest sibling, there were of course a lot of downsides too . . . but you chose to ignore those and focus on the upsides. Like being able to stay up later while your brothers had to go to sleep, having a good sense of leadership and responsibility, being able to read your brothers like a picture book. 

So, you knew right away that something was wrong with your youngest brother as you watched him play in the last period. You could see it clearly in his demeanor and the way he was skating, he was starting to overthink things, he had gotten into his own head. You of course had seen the way the public and media was shitting on your brother because he's made a few bad plays, and it broke your heart to see how defeated he looked sitting on that bench. 

Jack had voiced his worries about Luke to you over the phone a few days ago when you were out with Quinn and your boyfriend brock. Even with hundreds of miles between you and Luke you could tell something was bothering him, that's why your planned trip to visit your younger brothers this weekend was even more meaningful. 

You were leaning against the wall as you waited for your brothers to leave the locker room, your focus was down on your phone as you texted your boyfriend. A smile on your lips, you missed him dearly even though you have only been gone for almost two days. “Sis!” you heard the familiar sound of jack's voice call your name. You look up from your phone and smile as Jack rushes over to you and pulls you into a tight hug. 

“You played so well jack” You mumbled into his neck, cursing at the curse of being the oldest but the shortest. Jack smiles and gives you one more squeeze before letting go and taking a step back, even though they lost he wasn't going to let that bring him down from the fact that you watched him play in person for the first time in a few months.

 “Thank you, luke should be out soon, he's just being a little hard on himself” Jack sighed as he glanced back at the locker room entrance, there was only so much he could say to let luke know that he's doing okay. You let out a sigh and nodded, already getting an image of a pouty luke. Your eyes lit up with an idea, as a memory from years ago popped up in your mind. You smile at Jack as you ask “Do you think you can get a ride home? And can I have the keys to your truck?” 

“Uh yeah why?” Jack questioned with a raised brow as he pulled out his keys from his front pocket and handed them to you. You smiled gratefully and grabbed the keys and slid them into your front pocket with your lip gloss. “I have an idea on how to cheer luke up.” 

“Well good luck, cause I can't handle a grumpy luke anymore '' Jack jokes as he pats you on the shoulder, happy that you were now here to save him from the grumpy luke. You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest as you look at jack “I remember saying the same thing about you.” 

“Have fun! I'm gonna go catch up with nico "Jack grins as he chooses to ignore your words, placing a quick kiss to your forehead before rushing off down the hallway, turning to look at you quickly and shouting out an ‘i love you’ before turning the corner and leaving your sight. You look forward just in time to see Luke walk out of the locker room, well more like trudge. His steps were heavy, and you can see the exhaustion on his face. His shoulders were sagged as he carried his backpack, he was changed out of his suit and into some sweats and a hoodie. He looked like a sad cat. When Luke noticed you, his heavy steps turned into long strides as he moved towards you. 

Before you could open your mouth to greet your brother, he was throwing his arms over shoulders and nestling his head in the crook of your head, for a much-needed hug. Your eyes widened at how tight Luke was holding you, but you close your eyes and wrap your arms around your little brother, softly rubbing his back with one of your hands. Luke closed his eyes and tried to shut off his mind as he felt himself melt into the comfort and safety of your arms. 

You rested your chin on his shoulder as you whispered, “You, okay?” you felt him nod yes but the both of you knew he was lying. Luke let out a deep breath and reluctantly pulled away from the hug when his back was starting to hurt from leaning down for so long. You smiled up at him, brushing some of his curls out of his face as he asked, “Where's jack?” 

“Oh, he's getting a ride home with nico, so come on lukey I'm taking you out tonight!” You excitedly pull-out Jack's keys and wave them while your other hand is grabbing Luke's arm and dragging him along you as you make your way down the hallway. Luke gave you an unimpressed look even though on the inside he was excited to spend more time with you “I’m not old enough to go bar hopping.” 

“Is that really all you think I do in Vancouver?” You gasped dramatically as you pretended to be hurt from his words. You have one embarrassing experience when you go bar hopping, and now that's all anyone remembers, you think with a roll of your eyes. Luke felt the corner of his lips lift into a smile at your dramatics, Jack definitely got that from you. 

“Besides I'm a good big sister, I wouldn't provide my underage brother with alcohol, at least in public” you joked as you wrapped your arm around Luke's, holding on tight. Luke chuckles and slips his hand into the front pocket of his hoodie, comforting silence coming across them as they make their way to Jack's truck. 

“Need help? '' Luke asked sarcastically as he put on his seatbelt, his eyes on you as you struggled slightly to get into the truck. You gave him a quick glare before closing the door and putting on your seatbelt, quickly starting the truck, wanting to leave the arena before the traffic got even worse. You turned up the volume on the radio, an unfamiliar country song filling up the silent car. Luke let out a heavy sigh and relaxed into the seat, looking out the window and all the passing lights. 

The car ride to your choice of destination was filled with mostly silence between you and Luke, just enjoying the music and the faint sound of the world around them. You could see that Luke had a lot on his mind and you didn't want to pressure him into talking about it, so you stayed quiet, knowing that he would tell you when he's ready. Luke couldn't help but replay every single one of his mistakes he's made in the past few games, remembering every tweet he saw from disappointed ‘fans’. 

Luke could feel himself become more upset and discouraged the more he thought about it, so Luke quickly glanced at you before looking back out the window. Luke was slightly confused on how well you knew your way around the town, he was curious on where you were taking him. But he gave up on asking after the third time you told him it was a surprise. 

Luke’s eyes widen with excitement when he sees where you're pulling into, it was an old ice cream shop that he had driven by many times, but never had the chance to try it. You smiled and turned off the car and grabbed your wallet from your purse and gave Luke a big smile “Come on, I'll even let you get 3 scoops!” 

You laugh as you watch Luke quickly leave the truck and rush around the front of the truck to open your door. You giggle and take Luke's hand that he held out for you, doing your best to do a posh British accent “Thank you kind sir” Luke smiles and closes the door for you, following you across the parking lot, his spirit was lifted already. 

“This is so good; how did you find this place?” Luke asked you before he took another lick of his chocolate ice cream, of course having a waffle cone. And despite you saying he could get 3 scoops, he only got 2. You look away from your bowl of your favorite ice cream and to your brothers whose focus was up at the stars. The two of you were sitting on the tailgate of the truck, neither of you realizing that your legs were swinging in unison. 

“Oh, I found it the last time I came to visit, and you and Jack were at practice, I've been craving it since” you answered him as you looked back on the day. Luke nods and continues to eat his ice cream. Silence came across the two of you again, Luke didn't know what to say and you could see the way his shoulders became tense that he was thinking of something. You had a pretty good idea what he was thinking about, hockey. 

“You played really good tonight luke” you broke the silence, and you watched as his shoulders sagged and a frown came across his lips as he looked down at his lap. You hated seeing how discouraged he looked, this wasn't like luke. He never let it get to him like this before, but it's different . . . it's the NHL, it's his dream. He whispered bitterly “We lost.” 

“You still played really good, i'm really proud of you luke” you vowed as you gently nudged his knee with yours, your tone proving how genuine you were. You were a good big sister you liked to think, so you would never have a favorite brother . . . but your little brother Luke will always have a special place in your heart. The little brother who would listen to you rant all about your school drama while the other two were doing God knows what, the little brother who fully trusted you to drive him to get ice cream when you first got your license while Quinn and jack swore you would kill them. Your sweet little brother Luke who was far too good for this world. 

Luke let out a heavy breath and his eyes started to water as he listened to you, he heard others say they were proud of him, but it was different, more meaningful coming from you. Unlike you he made it very clear that you're his favorite sibling, that you always have been. The big sister that he always knew would have his back no matter what, the big sister that always was on his side. He looked up from his lap and turned his head to look at you to see you were already smiling at him. “Thank you sissy.” 

“Not just for the compliment” Luke quickly spoke before you could, fully turning his body to face you, thankfully he had eaten most of his ice cream, so he didn't have to worry about it dripping. Luke never really liked talking about his emotions or just having deep conversations in general, but he didn't have to worry about any of that with his big sister who always made it clear that he could talk to you no matter what. Luke continues speaking “But for taking me here and for being here for me, for always being here for me.” 

“I'll always be here lukey” You promised as you set your ice cream bowl next to you before leaning over and pulling Luke into a much-needed hug. Luke smiles and closes his eyes, hugging you with one arm while the other holds his cone away from you, not wanting to get any ice cream on you. Luke lets himself melt into the hug; he really didn't want you to leave. You couldn't help tearing up as you think of Luke and everything he's been through and how strong he is, you really are so proud of your little . . . well not so little brother. You sniffled and whispered, “God why did you have to grow up so fast.” 

“Trying to catch up with you, you old lady” Luke jokes, wanting to lift the mood, he really hated seeing you cry, and he knew you so well that he was sure you were going to.  A loud laugh leaves his lips as you pull away from the hug and dramatically move away from him. Despite his words you smiled as you listened to luke laugh, it was the type of laugh that made you want to join in. You pulled the keys out of your pocket and slap them into luke's hand before jumping off the tailgate of the truck and snatching your ice cream “That's it your driving home.” 

Luke continued to laugh and watch as you stomp over to the passenger seat, the famous Hughes pout on your lips. Luke quickly gets off the bed of the truck and puts up the tailgate shouting a cheeky remark that only made him laugh harder at the quick glare you sent him.  

“Thank God! Brock drives you around so much I'm pretty sure you forgot how to drive” 

°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 )

[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.

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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​

[theautisticwriter]

Love Letters: Yandere! Helluva Boss characters X G/N Reader

Characters- Blitzø, Moxxie, Millie, Loona, Stolas, Asmodeus, Fizzarolli

Show- Helluva Boss

Genre- romantic, yandere

Summary- Mini love letters from your not so secret stalkers admirers!

Warnings- swearing, pet names, yandere themes, mentions of planned kidnapping, stalking, delusional characters, unwanted attention

Word count- 1.5K

Extra notes- I have a Hazbin Hotel version of this uploaded as well!

key: f/l = first letter of your name, y/n = your name, n/n = your nickname

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By this point you know who it is y/n, I’m the only person COOL enough to send u romantic as fuck letters like the old people do

Sorry for eating the food u made last night, when i was raiding ur fridge it looked so fucking good (and it was, who knew u could cook :P). i left u a pony as a replacement, u can’t eat it but it’ll make u think of me ;) and that pony cost me a FUCK ton of money, collectors addition and shit. i know, bad fucking ass right??

the stupid shitty loud alarm u installed didn’t work when i came in, ud be much safer with me and loony. that’s the plan anyways babe, u have NO idea the fucking creeps that live down here, they’re all fucking animals and ur…not, a fucking asshole i guess.

i drew you smth (it’s the thing stuck on the back of the envelope with the glitter glu)

^glue

it’s me and u holding hands, like other couples do. we’re better than those corny fuckers tho, hence the crowns on our heads.

ignoring my texts, BLOCKING ME (still upset about this BY THE WAY) and then ignoring my very nice letters is kinda a dick move f/l, but it’s whatevs. everything is almost ready for ur move in. i cleaned up n everything :D

from the only bitch worth ur time,

blitzø

<3 (ignore that, moxxie threw a gun at me and my hand slipped, might fire him)

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Hiya sweet cheeks!!!

It’s Mills here, just checking in! Via letter! Ain’t that just the fanciest little thing? Mox said it’s the best way to show thought and care to someone, so here’s all my thoughts and care, just for you!

How’ve you been? Good I hope, I’ve been just peachy thanks for asking! My Ma and Pa are super excited to meet ya one day, they’ve even started planning the wedding! Now I told them to slow their horses down, and not the overwhelm ya, we’ll get to that don’t you worry darlin.

Im just so excited to write this letter for you! Ain’t it so romantic?? I’m practically squealing in delight at the thought of you opening this and swoonin’, that’s what you’re doing, right?

Now i’m writing this on my break, and my boss really needs me back in the game! I got employ of the month! Most amount of kills, with the best and bloodiest results baby!

Until next time sweetheart,

Your Mills! ♡

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Hi y/n,

It’s Moxxie here, I was a little nervous to send this letter to you, but I always try to follow my heart, and my heart was telling me to communicate with you in the most romantic way I know how due to our current circumstances of being so far away. It’s hard, for the both of us i’m sure, but we’ll be okay y/n.

As much as I don’t get along with my father, he has been helpful with my preparations for your arrival. It’s a big deal, moving in together. I’m sure your anxious, I am too, but in the best way possible. Love is pure, and can make somebody feel whole, it’s a wonderful feeling. I never want that to be taken away from me, and you are the source of all my love. That’s why we need to be together, being only half a demon isn’t good for the soul.

We can do lots of fun things together as well, like go to the opera, or to musicals, or I can show you my shooting skills. My boss says that I have a pretty good shot, which is the biggest compliment he’s ever given me. And we can do things you like too, marriage is equal of course. Obviously, this will all happen later done the line, you’ll need time to adjust, and I understand that. I understand you.

I’m running out of room on my page, but I will write to you again tomorrow. Please respond? Just once, y/n? It’d be nice, to hold something from you since I can’t hold you yet.

All my love,

Your Moxxie <3

———————————————————

Uh, hi?

Wait, you don’t put ‘uh’ in letters do you? Or put wait whilst you think, fuck shit fuck

Sorry, I’m new to this. Normally I just send a text to people but, your phone is off at the moment I think? Or you lost it? Or you blocked me?

Either way, I’ll send you these stupid letter things until it’s back on. So, uh, what are you up to? Blitz has been up my ass about meeting you, heads up, when I come get you and bring you to our room he’s gonna go all psycho dad mode and integrate you, but he’ll back off after a while. He’s a dick sure, but he does want me to be happy. And your, likeable or whatever, so i’m sure you’ll get along.

Once you get comfortable at home with me, Blitz said you could work with me at I.M.P. You’ll be like the co-secretary or something. You won’t be put in danger, I won’t let that happen, you’ll just get to sit with me. We can watch things together, if you wanted.

I guess i’ll see you soon, how do you end these?

See you,

Love from,

Regards?

Bye y/n,

Loona.

———————————————————

My dearest y/n,

I hope this letter finds you well. I yearn for your presence here, besides me. It’s quite lonely without you, I will admit my dear. It would be oh so wonderful if you could write back. I understand you may be preoccupied with your current activities, but I can’t help myself from desiring a response. I know, it’s selfish of me to expect you to reply to my letters when you’ll be here with me shortly, but I can’t keep my thoughts at bay at the moment.

Your face is a constant in my mind, night and day, asleep and awake, your voice in my mind calms me when I need it most, your smile brightens the bleariest of moments and so on. You can imagine the difficulties I’m facing with no response from you, but that’s alright. If you can’t write back to me dear, I won’t pressure you. Your time is precious, and we will have all the time in hell quite soon. Isn’t that exciting?

I can give you the life you deserve n/n, any luxuries or mundanities you wish for will be handed to you on a silver platter. Or a golden one, if that’s more to your liking? We can properly discuss the specifics once we are together. How thrilling, the though of you and I together at last.

We truly are written in the stars!

Yours until the end of the sky and then some,

Stolas.

———————————————————

Hey there baby,

It’s been a while, huh? I’m sorry if you feel neglected babe, it’s so hard keeping in contact with you when you’re so far away hun. Wouldn’t it be so much better if you were here with me? Sure I’ve got a lot of meetings, being a sin and all, but I’d be at your beck and call n/n, you could even be my new excuse to leave those awful “business” discussions. They barely talk business with me, it’s just complete bullshit babe.

I know the lust ring can be intimidating, we have quite the reputation, but I assure you, love is not a foreign concept to me. Romance is one of my most favourite things! Though that’s a secret, let’s keep that between us, yeah? That side of me is reserved for you n/n.

It’s so boring over here without you, I feel like i’m just lounging around and last time I checked, I was the lust sin, not the sloth sin. We’d have so much fun together babe! Can’t you picture it? Even if you can’t yet, I can wait. Having you near me will be enough, you are enough just as you are.

Sincerely yours,

Asmodeus (Ozzie) xoxo

———————————————————

Heya cutie!

Letters are a lot harder to write than I thought they’d be y’know? I’ve rewritten this like 16 times already, sheesh. It just feels so awkward, I can’t see your reaction to my words which means I can’t fix any mistakes I’ve made :(. I’m sure I haven’t made any though! Right? This letters going really well so far and is definitely wooing you, right, y/n?

Hah, I’m asking questions as if you can reply right away. Silly old me, I don’t know what i’m worrying about! We’re meant to be together. I know it’s super sappy, but we’re like soulmates. Soulmates are bound to be together! That’s why I’m bringing you home soon, I can’t wait! I’ve got sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo many awesome tricks to show you!

And, the best news, I quit my job!! ༘⋆-ˋˏ ༘⋆-ˋˏ This means, we will have a LOT more time with each other, and you don’t have to worry about Mammon being possessive over me, because fuck him! I’m my own clown! Or, well, your clown.

I can’t wait to see you! This is going to be great for us, I pinky promise :P

Love from,

Fizzarolli !!!! ༘⋆!!,-!ˋˏ!!!

———————————————————

[melrodrigo]

When The Night Falls - W.A.

Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wednesday isn’t soft. But when it comes to a certain someone…

Warnings: Angsty fluffy crap mixed together, mentions of cheating

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: HA! You guys thought I would do something from the poll? I’m an uncontrollable creature. Also, this is semi inspired by ‘reckless’ by madison beer.

Wednesday Addams was not soft. In fact, that was the last word she would ever use to describe herself.

But today, when she had swung open her door, ready to give whoever woke her up at 2 a.m. hell; she was surprised to find out she felt a little bad after seeing your crying figure.

“Wednesday?” You sniffle, swiping at your eyes desperately in an attempt to look somewhat presentable.

The raven-haired girl stares at you blankly, refusing to give away any of the emotions she was feeling.

Eyes all red and puffy, nose tinted pink; she hated to admit it, you look cute.

The thing was, for the past few weeks, Wednesday’s been feeling weird around you.

At first, she thought that maybe you were using your powers to cast a poisonous spell on her. But on further inspection, she realized you were casting a spell on her, just a very different one from what she expected.

It’s a peculiar feeling, having feelings for someone.

She doesn’t think she’s ever really experienced all that “crush” or “love at first sight” nonsense Enid keeps gushing about.

But right now, with you standing in front of her, she thinks she finally feels those funeral flowers budding all throughout her chest, wrapping itself tight around her heart.

“Do you mind if I come in?” You ask timidly.

Wednesday steps back without a second thought, still staring hard as you walk in. She’s suddenly struck with the realization that you came to her first, out of everyone in the whole school, even her bubbly roommate. It makes her heart sing.

You and Enid had a thing going on. The whole school knew that. You weren’t exactly together, but the look on your face when you talked about Enid was enough for Wednesday to keep her mouth shut about her feelings.

But she came to me, Wednesday thinks.

She walks towards you, tapping you softly on the shoulder.

You whirl, and immediately throw yourself at her, letting your whole body engulf hers.

You hear Wednesday let out a quiet gasp and it makes you giggle a little.

You know she’s not uncomfortable, and you know the tap was an invitation or at least an allowance for you to touch her. You have a bit of a reputation for being the only person Wednesday was willing to let hug her, apart from Enid.

Days spent with Enid usually meant days spent with Wednesday, and by now, you were fluent in the language of her.

“What happened so suddenly that you felt the need to wake me in the middle of the night?” She finally asks, failing to sound sympathetic.

She doesn’t expect it to sound mean, and you know that, so you pay her tone no mind.

“I found Enid w-with Ajax.” You tell her, voice cracking at the end of your sentence, tears welling at the corners of your eye.

Wednesday wasn’t an idiot. She knows what “finding them together” means, and despite all her fondness for the young blonde, she can’t help the anger that stirs in her immediately.

Here you were, crying and troubled over her stupid roommate (crying very prettily might she add), and what, Enid was with Ajax? Of all people?

“I’m sorry to hear that, Y/N. I know how much you adored Enid.” She murmurs, ignoring the instant tugging in her heart at the sight of you wide-eyed and looking up at her.

To her surprise, you giggle a little, and it sends shockwaves through your and her own body.

You reach up gingerly, pausing long enough for Wednesday to refuse your touch if she wants to, but the goth girl stays quiet, and so you brush away some of the bangs that are covering her face.

“It’s okay.” You whisper, staring at her eyes and then her lips. “To be honest with you, that’s not even the whole reason I was crying.”

“Why were you crying then?” She inquires, and you notice her hands flexing at her side.

“I think…I might like someone else. And I was kind of upset, because- I thought Enid really liked me. But I guess not, so it all works out doesn’t it?” You laugh dryly.

Wednesday’s eyes widen at your confession, suddenly feeling squirmish underneath your gaze. Her whole body freezes, and her mouth feels dry.

It would work out if I was your partner, she thinks.

“Relax, Wends.” You murmur, placing your head back down to her chest. Your words seem to calm her down a little.

“It’s funny, I don’t like her anymore, but when she gets with someone else, I get sad. How messed up of me is that?” You tilt your head up, watching Wednesday gulp once before speaking.

“It is a stupid thing to feel.” Is what she answers, racking her brain to think of something better to say.

You hum, and everything goes quiet for a while. You feel safe, in Wednesday’s arms, in her bed, and you don’t care if Enid comes back to the dorm and sees this.

Before you know it, you’re drifting off into some walmart heaven- the smell of Wednesday encompassing you and the softness of her skin pressing against you.

“YN?” She whispers, stirring you from your so-close-to-sleep state.

You hum in question.

“Now that you aren’t interested in Enid, are you interested in anyone?” She asks, trying her best to not sound too interested in what you have to say.

You smile soft, the drowsiness making your critical thinking skills all mushy.

“Yeah, I told you that already.” You tell her and promptly snuggle yourself further into the girl.

When Wednesday finally gathers up the courage to ask you who it is, you’re fast asleep, snoring quietly on her.

-

The next morning, when you wake up alone, feeling the most well-rested you’ve felt in a long time, you barely notice the dark colors of the bedsheets.

It takes you a minute, but you prop yourself up on your elbow, trying to figure out where the hell you are.

But as the events of the night prior come back to you, you find yourself grinning.

“Stop smiling like that. You look weird.” Wednesday quips, and your eyes dart to where she is, hunched over by her typewriter. There’s a glint in her eye that tells you she’s joking.

You flash her another toothy grin, surprised when she sends you a tiny smile back. And then, as if she’s just gotten shy, she turns back to her typewriter and ignores your teasing remarks.

You sigh dramatically and flop back onto her bed.

“I’m gonna sleep here from now on!” You announce.

You take her silence as a quiet acceptance.

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Invisible Smoke - Four

Summary: There is something going on with Jake’s favorite mechanic. And he doesn’t run.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/F!Reader (No Y/N)

Word Count: 10.9k

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED

A/N: I do not keep a tag list!! Life is still weird but thank you all for sticking with this little story of mine. I really appreciate all the kind words you sent on the last chapter. Only one more chapter to go!

Warnings: Naval inaccuracies, stalking, bodily injury, domestic abuse, and unhealthy coping mechanisms. Also, Jake is a (stubborn) simp.

Someone had slashed your tires.

Well, you shouldn’t say someone. You knew who had done it. It didn’t exactly take a doctorate to read the context clues—but you were pretty sure your insurance would drop you if you put in another claim, so you begrudgingly prepared to pay the hefty towing fee to the nearest tire shop and fork over even more cash for four new tires. This was one of the few times you wished your little bungalow actually had a garage. And god, you were so tired of this. So tired of the mind games he thought he was playing with you. He thought he was clever. But it was all just so repetitive. You had half a mind to just wait, out in the open, to let him do what he wanted just so it would be over.

It had only been two days since the dog fight football game and the following get together at the Hard Deck. Two days since you caught Jake’s eye at the water’s edge and felt your entire chest twist. He knew now. He knew what you were hiding.

You hadn’t been able to read the look in his eyes but Bradley had taken you aside before you slipped away for the night and basically told you that Jake, for better or for worse, was wanting and willing to help. “Give him a chance, Punch. Don’t you think he deserves that, at least? And you deserve to be happy.”

“When did you become a fortune cookie, Bradley?”

But you wanted to believe him. You did.

But Luke had made you glaringly aware that you weren’t really capable of having a relationship aside from a handful of hours with someone who’d forget your name by morning. You had expected to feel some sort of relief in knowing that Jake hadn’t wanted to wash his hands of you after learning about Luke, but all it did was make you feel like you were painting an even larger target on Jake’s back. He really did want to play hero, didn’t he?

You pushed the thought away as you texted Natasha, telling her you’d be late for brunch and she was quick to tell you not to worry about the tow, she’d send one of the boys to get you to the tire shop. You were expecting Bob and his reliable GMC; he’d been invited to brunch as well anyway.

But a familiar Ford F-250 pulled up instead and Jake stepped out of the cab, looking like a GQ model in a tight Henley and jeans that hugged his thighs a little too well to be fair. He looked at your car and your destroyed tires for just a moment before turning his gaze to you. Your heart gave an answering leap but you tried to not let it show and rolled your shoulders back as he took wide strides toward you.

“Did he do anything else? Did you check your windows-”

“You shouldn’t be here.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could even pretend to think of a more polite greeting.

Jake arched an eyebrow before setting his hands on his hips. “Well, that’s just too damn bad, Punch. I am here and I’m not leaving until you tell me what's going on. Now, did anything else happen?”

You wanted to send him away. Wanted to keep him safe. But he was here. He was here and looking at you with those stupidly beautiful green eyes. “It’s just the tires,” you muttered, giving in. At least in this regard. You could handle everything else later.

Jake’s mouth set in a thin line before he moved to look at your tires again. He dug at one of the tears, the edge of his finger easily passing through the ruined rubber. “Jesus.”

Perhaps you should have been surprised when he turned back to the bed of his truck and pulled out a tire and then another and another until four new tires were stacked neatly beside your car. But you had a feeling Jake would always be three steps ahead of you. Infuriating.

“Please tell me you didn’t buy me new tires.”

“All right. I won’t tell you that.”

“Seresin, you can’t be serious. Tell me how much I owe you.”

Jake leaned forward just enough to steal the keys from your hands and popped open your trunk before handing them back. “I don’t want your money.”

“Well, that’s too fucking bad,” you retorted as you followed him to the back of your car. “Tires are expensive! I can afford it. Just let me pay you! You’re already saving me money by not making me take a tow truck. And I might actually make it to brunch on time because of you, too. If you don’t give me an amount, I’ll have to guess.”

Jake moved the mat in your trunk and found your jack and tire iron and then gently grasped your hand that you’d set on the lip of your trunk and moved it before closing it. He then tugged you closer with that damn dimpled smirk and stared down at you with his stupid green eyes. “I’m not taking your money.”

“I will shove money into your pockets at the most inopportune moments and ruin every conquest you set your eyes on.”

But the threat fell flat as Jake’s smirk widened. “So, you’re planning on sticking your hands down my pants…repeatedly?”

Heat washed over you in an angry wave and you pulled your hands out from under his with a grimace instead of a snarl. “Only you would say something like that.”

His smirk continued as he stepped back and set the jack beneath your car and started to twist. “I’m not taking your money.”

“I’m paying for your drinks at the Hard Deck forever.”

“No.”

As he twisted the jack, your eyes were drawn (inevitably) to how his sleeves strained with his moving muscles. That shirt was fighting for its life and you were ogling him like a piece of meat (again). This whole situation was ridiculous! The man who’d tried to kill you twice had slashed your tires and you were flirting (possibly, maybe) with Jake like you didn’t have a care in the world. All of this was wrong. And incredibly stupid.

“Whatever. I’ll do what I want,” you lamely replied, hoping it sounded stronger than it felt.

“I’m sure you will, Punch.” Each word was dripping with something you couldn’t and wouldn’t name and you hated that Jake was able to easily have you smiling when he was there to fix a problem you created.

The tires were changed out within an hour and you invited Jake inside for a glass of water and asked if he wanted to tag along to brunch, it was the last you could do, right?

“I wouldn’t want to intrude-”

“You’re not intruding. Bob’ll be there, too.” The brunch had been an impromptu plan anyway, cobbled together while you’d worked on Natasha and Bob’s jet and listened to Maverick and Cyclone berate the Top Gun students who had started another fight on the tarmac (apparently having learned nothing from the dog fight football games). You’d just been happy your pilots hadn’t been caught in the crossfire this time.

Jake looked at you over his half-finished glass of water and you had to keep yourself from shrinking away from his gaze. His glass clinked against the linoleum as he finished and you tried not to notice how he licked his lips free of the last few droplets of water. “So?” You pushed out, trying to keep your voice level. “Wanna come along?”

Jake’s silence turned at something in your stomach and Bradley’s not-at-all true observation was echoing at the back of your mind before Jake’s smirk returned. “You’re going to try to pay for brunch, aren’t you?”

You hadn’t even thought about it but… “Well, I invited you, so-”

“No.”

You groaned, snatching the glass from him and setting it in your dishwasher as Jake chuckled behind you. “You’re being a child.”

Jake rounded the corner, pushing further into the kitchen behind you, and crossed his arms over his chest (and no you weren’t looking at his arms again). “Why won’t you let me do anything nice for you?”

You frowned and matched his stance and crossed your arms, too. “I let you do nice things. You came with me to Junior’s party with me.”

“After you drove me there and tried to have me take credit for your gift and you introduced me to that group of brass to help me with my career.”

“That was a coincidence.”

“But you still did it.” He stepped closer and you hated that it was instinctual to take a step back, too. “Want to tell me why everything I do for you has to be reciprocal?”

That wasn’t the question you were expecting and your fingernails dug into the meat of your arm as you tried to keep your face neutral. “There’s give and take to everything. And I… You should just let me pay you.”

“I’m not gonna let you pay me, Punch. And you’re going to learn that not everything is a give and take. Who taught you that, anyway?”

God. You hated this. You hated these questions and the soft look in his eyes. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” Jake scoffed.

“Why?”

You could see Jake’s jaw clench, tendons working and tightening. But as quickly as it started, it stopped. He just shook his head and the tense silence in the kitchen continued to stretch until it was finally broken by Jake’s next question. “Are we ever going to talk about it?”

And you knew what he was asking. And you wanted to hate that he was connecting dots that you had tried to erase. “What is there to say? You know everything now.”

“I heard it from Rooster, not you. It is your story, Punch.”

“Rooster knows it just as well as I do, I think,” you muttered with a shrug, trying not to shrink away from him. “What else is there for you to know?”

Jake stepped forward, enveloping you in the scent of his expensive cologne and tinge of jet fuel that seemed to cling to him as he closed the distance to stand at your side and brush his arm against yours. “I want to know everything. Haven’t I told you that?”

You gnawed at your lip for a moment before stepping away from the counter. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Luke was an asshole then and he’s an asshole now. I should’ve seen the signs, I get that. I do. But he was so good when he wanted to be. And after being an afterthought for most of my life, it was nice to pretend that someone was choosing me.” This was just pathetic. Stop talking. Stop talking. If he hadn’t thought of washing his hands of you before, he was surely doing it now.

“What do you mean you were an afterthought?”

You rolled your shoulders and turned just enough to look at him before glancing at the little clock above your oven. “Doesn’t matter now. But, if we leave in the next five minutes, we’ll probably beat Natasha and Bob to brunch. So, are you coming?”

**

The ride was mostly quiet on the way to the restaurant Phoenix had picked overlooking the water. But Jake knew you were thinking about telling him something else as you sat in his passenger seat, watching the road pass your window. So, he just told himself to be patient. Again. It was a bright spot to finally know what you looked like in his truck. God knows he’s imagined it more than he’d like to admit, like some lovesick teenager.

You were picking at your cuticles without taking your eyes off the passing scenery. Jake had never seen you nervous, not like this. Even when the Daggers had to ship out for a short deployment and you had to watch them all take off from the carrier, you didn’t act like this. He watched you lean forward just a bit and your eyes narrowed and then it clicked. You weren’t watching the world go by—you were keeping an eye on the cars following the truck in the side view mirror. You were making sure Luke wouldn’t try to run you off the road again.

Jake looked in the rear view mirror and saw sedans, coupes, and a handful of SUVs, and a smaller number of trucks. But not a single black charger. It was clear for now. But you still picked at your cuticles and didn’t peel your eyes from the window.

Jake reached out and set a hand over yours, stilling your picking. You jumped under the touch and Jake curled his fingers over yours a little tighter, trying to anchor you to something else a little less destructive. “We’re okay, Punch, all right?”

You looked at him and Jake hated that he had to look at the road for safety purposes when you searched his face for something. “For now,” you said in return, once again turning to look out at the cars.

Jake squeezed your hand again and didn’t let go even as you muttered the next handful of directions to the restaurant. He awkwardly shifted into park and took the keys out of the ignition after finding a spot in the steadily filling lot. Your shoulders were slumped as you turned back to him, face unreadable except for the pinch between your brows that he wanted to smooth with a brush of his thumb.

(Maybe one day.)

“All right. We’re gonna go in there, eat our weight in overpriced waffles and then I’m going to take you home and double check your windows and locks. Okay?”

Your eyes swept up to look up at him and Jake felt that familiar warmth starting to unfurl in his chest. Your thumb swept over his knuckles but he wasn’t sure if you were aware you were even doing it. “I can’t afford to buy you your weight in waffles.”

Jake barked out a laugh and shook his head. “You’re not going to buy me brunch. Stop trying.” He had to bite back the pleased smile he felt growing when he heard your gasp after he raised your joined hands and pressed a kiss to your fingers.

“You are ridiculous.” Your voice was tight as it wheedled out from between your lips before you (slowly) pulled your hand from his and reached for the door handle. “C’mon. We need to get on the list.”

The air was tinged with the scent of sea salt and syrup as he followed you into the glass and metal building, already teeming with people. You were quick to give your name and group size to the hostess who said it would probably be a fifteen minute wait. Just as you turned to grab one of the oddly shaped bar stools near the door to it for your name to be called, Phoenix was striding in, too. She pushed her sunglasses up her hair before sweeping you into a hug with a loud kiss to your cheek. “I knew you’d beat me here.” Then her dark eyes dragged to Jake as he stood behind you. “Hangman. What’re you doing here?”

“He drove me,” you said. “I figured it would be fine.”

“Of course it is,” Phoenix said, waving it away but Jake knew the gleam in her eyes. She wasn’t quite finished. “You two arrived together?” She asked, eyes bouncing between you and Jake.

“Ken fixed my tires. Figured I could treat him to brunch as a thank you.”

Jake had to groan at that, knocking his hand into your hip and earring a halfhearted swat at his arm in retaliation. “I told you, you’re not paying for me.”

Phoenix hummed and anchored her gaze on Jake and he fought the urge to stand a little straighter. “Yeah. That was awful nice of him. When you told me that the neighbor kid slashed your tires, I thought Hangman would be a gentleman and drive you to the tire shop. Not fix them himself.”

Neighbor kid. You had lied to Phoenix? Granted, her text had just said that your tires had been slashed and that you’d needed help—it wasn’t exactly filled with details. Jake had assumed that she had known. But that didn’t matter now and he plastered his well-used smirk on his face. “Well, I’m a-”

“Don’t stroke your own ego, Bagman.” She then glanced at something over his shoulder and smiled. “Bob just got here. Bob!” She threw up a hand to grab the WSO’s attention and he jogged toward the group when he spotted her. He nearly collided with a waitress and they both apologized—profusely—before going their separate ways. By the time Bob reached their little group, his face was a vibrant and familiar shade of red.

“Nearly swept that pretty girl off her feet, Baby on Board.” Jake braced for the hit he knew was coming and winced when Phoenix’s fist collided with his arm.

The group was seated soon after and Jake had to bite back a grumble when Bob was the one to pull out your chair for you when you reached the table. When Jake went to do the same to Phoenix, she hit him again.

Bob was nearly the shade of a strawberry when he realized the woman he’d nearly bowled over would be your waitress and nearly dropped his silverware roll when he noticed her striding over to the table. Food was ordered—both you and Jake ordered waffles while Phoenix wanted to try the brioche French toast and Bob wanted eggs Benedict with steak—and mimosas (and pineapple juice for Bob) were poured as Phoenix regaled the table with her run-in with a guy at the gym on base. The Ensign hadn’t realized Phoenix a) outranked him and b) wasn’t interested in bulging muscles and whatever the younger man could(n’t) provide. The interaction ended when Phoenix “politely” challenged him to a friendly competition to see who could handle more weight while doing hip thrusters. Phoenix started out with thirty pounds more than him and he called her a dyke so she had him barred from the gym and probably had a meeting with his commanding officers on Monday, too.

You giggled and tipped your mimosa flute into Phoenix’s before you both took a sip. It was good to see you smile like that.

The waitress came by a few minutes later with the food and she was quick to divvy up the plates but Jake watched her make sure Bob’s was the last plate and she stood at his side and carefully set it down, making sure to bend down just enough to brush against his arm. “Careful, the plate is hot,” she practically purred.

(Phoenix quickly had Jake’s laugh turning into a poorly disguised cough when she sent him a look across the table.)

“I’ll be careful. I can handle it.”

Then the waitress actually giggled and stood straight, setting her hand on Bob’s shoulder for just a moment. “I’m sure you can. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?” She then turned and walked away with an exaggerated sway in her hips which Bob completely missed because he was busy unrolling his silverware.

The group watched him as he carefully cut into his meal and shoved a bite between his lips. He went to take another when he noticed the stares. “What?”

“Robert,” you started, voice strained to avoid a giggle. “She was flirting with you.”

His fork froze before it reached his mouth.”No, she wasn’t. She told me the plate was hot.”

Phoenix reached over and patted her back seater’s shoulder. “Oh, Bob.”

The other man’s blush returned and he shoved the bite between his lips. “How is telling me that the plate is hot flirting?”

Jake shook his head and fought a smile of his own. “Listen, do you like her?”

Bob chanced a glance at the waitress at the hostess booth and immediately ducked his head when she caught him and wagged her fingers at him with a wink. “She’s beautiful.”

“But?” Jake prodded, hearing a slight hesitation. He had always been good at reading people (you were an exception), and Jake had played therapist to a handful of the Daggers since he proved he could be someone other than Hangman. He wanted Bob to be happy.

“But I don’t know. She looks like she’d eat me alive.” He fiddled with his fork. “Can we talk about something else?”

Jake was the one who shifted the conversation to the insufferable group of Top Gun pilots that would thankfully be leaving soon enough. A friendly bet was placed on who everyone thought would actually get the trophy and Jake tried not to smile too much when Bob knocked his foot into his as a quiet thank you and you, seemingly unaware of Bob’s quiet gratitude, set your hand over Jake’s arm for a moment in your own show of appreciation. As soon as it happened, it was gone again.

That was okay. Jake was determined to have it happen again.

Brunch continued on and finished after another round of drinks and splitting a funnel cake that the waitress insisted they try. Jake was sure the woman pouted after not receiving Bob’s phone number when he signed his check but he wouldn’t mention it. Jake liked this strange bit of normalcy. With you. He even if both Bob and Phoenix made vague threats against his life if he hurt you. Jake was determined to have more of these moments with you. Even if you grumbled about Jake hustling to get to the truck before you so he could open your door.

The tension in the cab on the way to brunch was absent now and Jake didn’t even care when you teased him about his choice in radio stations—calling him a cliche for listening to early Tim McGraw. But you said it with a laugh and Jake had to laugh, too. He liked that it was you who brought up Bob and his interactions with the waitress.

“I want Bob to be happy. And he’s mentioned once or twice that he’d like to have a family.”

Jake thought for a moment before the perfect person popped into his thoughts. “I know a girl.”

“No, you don’t. I don’t trust your taste in women.”

And Jake had to laugh at that. Had to. You were his taste in women. But the person he had in mind for Bob would be perfect. “She’s a CPA. Wears glasses. And she only drinks ginger ale despite helping Penny with the Hard Deck’s taxes. And she’s the only person outside of Texas that I trust with my tax return.”

Your face scrunched and Jake knew you were thinking it over. “Just because they both wear glasses and have an affinity for Seagram’s doesn’t mean they’d be a good match.”

“Just trust me. It might take a minute to get her to look him in the eye-”

“She’s shy?”

“So shy. It’s adorable. And just what Baby on Board needs.”

You scowled at him but he knew you didn’t really mean it when you knocked your shoulder into his over the center console a moment later. He eventually pulled into your driveway and threw the truck into park before turning to you but you were scrambling out of your seat and up to your front door before he could even get a word in edgewise.

Oh.

Jake wasn’t sure if he’d ever been rejected as soundly as that before. But then he saw you waving him forward from your front stoop and Jake nearly clocked himself in the face with the seatbelt buckle as he hurried to follow you inside. He shut your door behind him, engaging just two out of the five locks as you hurried toward something just down the hall.

“Punch?”

“Just a moment!” You yelled in return.

Jake resisted the urge to settle on the couch again, like he’d done weeks ago. Everything seemed different now. You weren’t trying to push him away and he could hear you shuffling something in the other room and he was suddenly struck with a daydream of coming home to you, waiting for you to notice his presence and smiling when you saw him. “You’re home!” As soon as the vision came, it was gone, and Jake shook himself a little as if that would help him forget what he’d conjured up. What he’d wanted since the moment you first called him Ken, even if he never admitted it out loud.

You walked back into the living room and slapped something down onto the small table you had lining the back of your couch.

“Whatcha got there, Punch?”

Your answering smile was all teeth, like a cat who got the cream and Jake saw that it was a fifty dollar bill as it peeked from between your fingers. “Well, I added up how many miles it is from base, to my house, to the restaurant, then back to my house and then guessed on how many miles you get per gallon. And, you use premium gas, right? Either way, this should be enough for gas, but if you use diesel, this should cover it.” You slapped another fifty atop the first after pulling it from your back pocket.

Jake looked at the stack of cash and then back at you before he sighed, a long put-upon sigh that he knew was obnoxious but it was worth it when he heard you try to stifle a laugh. God. You were relentless.

“First, I don’t know how to break this to you, but you’re awful at math. Like, so bad.”

“Hey!”

“And second, I’m still not taking your money.”

“You’re being stubborn.”

“I’m being a friend, Punch. Friends drive each other around and help them when they need it. And I’m willing to bet-“

“I’ll take that bet.”

Jake continued on, ignoring you, “-that you wouldn’t expect to be paid back if our places were switched.”

You pulled your lips into your mouth for a moment and drummed your fingers against the money. “I lost that bet. Guess you’ll have to take the money.”

Jake groaned but he could feel a laugh starting to bubble in his chest. “You’re impossible.”

**

It was too soon to call this a victory, but you were sure you were closing in on one. He would take the money and then you could pretend to feel fine about everything he’d done for you. Sure.

“Actually, I have something you could do if you’re so hellbent on paying me back.” Before you could ask what he meant, he was unlocking your door and jogging out to his truck and pulling something out, tucking it behind his back as he returned. “Can you sign this for me?”

Then he dropped a purple book in your hand and your stomach dropped to your feet as you looked at the gold lettering across the cover. “You snooped!” You said, too embarrassed to be angry. You held the book up to your chest as if that would guard you from his knowing look or the embarrassment starting to churn your stomach.

“You knew I would! Why’re you surprised?” His smile was back and he took a step toward you. You took a responding step back until he was crowding you against your bookshelf, hands landing on the shelves on either side of your shoulders. And it could have been a threatening stance, an unnerving cage, but all you felt was safe. Safe as he blotted out the rest of the world and it was just you and him and your books in the quiet of your home.

You should not feel like this, you knew that. It was stupid and dangerous and you couldn’t stop it. What had happened to your resolve that you had just yesterday for keeping him at arm's length?

Your fingers drummed against the paperback and you hurriedly flipped it open when your eyes tracked down to his mouth. Oh. “Should I sign it ‘To Ken?’ Or-”

“Could you actually sign it for my sister Mia? She reads your books in her book club.”

“Oh.” Was all you could say. That was…that was actually really nice to know. You knew people read your books; Danny had framed a newspaper clipping showing your second book reaching a top ten spot one of the Best Sellers lists and had gifted it to you for your last birthday. They were mildly popular, you knew that. But to actually be confronted with the fact that someone you vaguely knew was reading your books was something else. You reached back and grabbed one of the pens you kept in a cup on the shelf. “Mia? She’s your oldest sister, right?” A quick glance up at Jake had your heart twisting. His look was too soft. Too happy.

“Yeah, Punch. That’s her.”

You took the time to write your pseudonym with extra flair and then added a heart next to Mia’s name, too. “Is this for her birthday or anything?”

“She’s…” Jake paused for a moment. “She’s just going through a rough patch right now. Your books make her smile.”

The pen stalled on the page for just a moment before you shoved at his chest to get him to back up just enough to grab at your ARC for your newest book and quickly scrawled, Wishing you expensive champagne and good memories! Happy reading! You then signed your name again and added a half dozen hearts next to Mia’s name at the top of the page. You slapped both books against Jake’s chest with a frown. “That book hasn’t been released yet, so I may get in a bit of trouble with my publisher if she tells anyone.”

Jake’s hands covered yours on the books and the toe of his shoe knocked into your socked feet as he moved closer, dragging your attention back to his stupidly handsome face again. “She won’t tell anyone but I know I’ll probably get an earful about how I got them.” His thumbs brushed against your knuckles and you would swear that you could feel it behind your ribs. “Where’d you get that name anyway?”

You almost snorted at the way he phrased that question, like you found it on the side of a cereal box. “My parents were obsessed with Stephen King—they actually met at a book club specifically for King’s books. My sister, Georgie, was named after the kid who got their arm ripped off at the beginning of It. And my brother, Danny, is named after the kid in The Shining, Danny Torrance.”

“And you? I don’t think I’ve read your name in his books.”

It was a fair enough question. King had dozens of books and Jake didn’t seem like the type to clamor for the newest release. “I was named by my grandparents after they discovered the reasoning behind my sister’s name. If my parents wanted to stay in the will, I had to have a name they picked. Of course, when my brother was born, my parents picked something a little more innocuous so they wouldn’t rock the boat again. But, anyway, to actually answer your question; I took my siblings’ names as a sort of thank you to them. Georgie became Georgia and I took Danny’s literary counterpart’s last name. And Georgia Torrance was born. I wrote most of my books when I had downtime on deployments. I took a chance and sent it off to an agent and I got a nice contract with a moderately respectable publishing house. It isn’t Stephen King money by any means, but I can upgrade my plane ticket to Business Class if I wanted to once or twice a year.”

“Your parents must’ve gotten a kick out of that.”

You tried to fight the sigh you felt growing in your throat but lost. You also lost the wherewithal to keep a single secret from him. “I don’t know. I don’t really talk to them.”

“What?”

“After Danny got sick, all of their attention was on him, which I understand. I do. But I was still just a kid who needed her parents every once in a while. But it was like I ceased to exist to them until they remembered I could help with the hospital bills. Georgie was already out of the house and getting her degree and would call but it wasn’t the same. I kinda gave up on having a relationship with my parents after they forgot about my rowing meet and I waited to be picked up for three hours before eventually just walking home.”

“Punch-”

And once you started, you couldn’t stop, like a can of pop shaken and bursting. “Danny was hooked up to like six different machines and was high off his ass and he apologized for all the…all the bullshit. I told him it was unnecessary. He was sick. I’m just happy he’s healthy again.”

God. You really knew how to ruin every moment, didn’t you?

Jake set the books on the shelf just beside your shoulder but was quick to lean over you again and you hated how Jake really was a certifiable blueprint for a romantic literary hero. You could write a single description of him in your next book and you’d know it would skyrocket to the top of the Best Sellers lists but you had been actively avoiding trying to piece together a story from your life. And, as if he knew you were debating something, the bastard actually propped his other arm up on the bookcase and leaned over you. Oh god. He was doing the lean and was going to ask you something about your fucked up childhood.

Shit.

Alarm bells were ringing in your head, letting you know that this moment could be disastrous. So, you decided to not let it go on any longer. “Jesus. Sorry. I really know how to kill a good time, huh? I think I’ve taken up quite enough of your time for the day. Let me know what Mia thinks of the books, okay?”

You ducked beneath his arm, intent on leading him to the door, but Jake grasped your hand and pulled you to a stop. “No, c’mon, Punch. Don’t do that again. Don’t shut me out. I’m happy you feel like you can tell me stuff like that, that you’re comfortable enough to trust me with that. Don’t pull away again. Not from me.”

You knew that if you looked at him right now, his green eyes would be wide and pleading. So, you just didn’t look. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do right now. I don’t know why you’re doing this, Jake.”

“Doing what?” He asked softly, as softly as his hand on yours.

“Buying me tires? Driving me around? Being…being this fucking nice to me all the time when I’ve only been a dick to you?” You asked as you felt your chin wobble. “Why?”

Jake was quiet for a moment. Just a moment. “You know why.”

“No! No, I don’t because…” You couldn’t finish the sentence because then it was real, it would be real and you didn’t know how to deal with that again. You looked up at him and tried to remember what you were protecting him from. Pulling your hand out of his, you set your hands on your hips. “Because you can’t.”

Jake’s shoulders rolled before his lips set in a thin line. “I do. And I know you feel the same.”

You scoffed and tried to ignore the warmth in your chest that he was right. He felt the same. Wouldn’t that just be the worst? “You really think that highly of yourself? You’re so sure that I-”

Jake leaned closer and the rest of your argument stalled. You could smell the mint on his breath from the stupid toothpick he was chewing on in the truck just beneath the warmth of his cologne. God. He was intoxicating. You almost hated him for a moment because every ounce of fight you had drained out of you. “Ken.”

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He moved closer. Closer. Closer.

His warm hand skirted up your arm until it settled against the gentle arc of muscle between your neck and shoulder and the other settled on your hip. You could feel each of his fingers pressing into your skin like a brand. Every breath he took brushed against your mouth and you licked your lips without a thought as he leaned even closer.

“Last chance.” You could feel his smile against your mouth, growing with each syllable.

And you had to smile. Had to because he was your Ken and this felt inevitable. Jake was inevitable. “Do your worst.”

He kissed you and it was instantly all consuming. Surely, he could feel your smile, too. You actually laughed against his mouth as your hands pressed against his chest. Jake pulled back just enough for you to see his smile before he kissed you again, catching your bottom lip between his and tugging to have you gasping. His stupid, perfect teeth nipped at the skin and he was quick to soothe the sting with a flick of his tongue.

Then you were moving backward, guided by his gentle movements, until your spine went flat against the wall beside your bookshelves. The kiss was all smiling lips and searching tongues as Jake held you tight. Everything was warm and tinged with the mint on his tongue and Jake Jake Jake.

His thumb pressed into the hinge of your jaw and he sighed against your panting mouth. “So fucking good.” His voice was hoarse and you could feel it curling in your stomach.

But your entire body seized when you felt his hand move to wrap around your throat as his mouth continued to work against yours. You couldn’t help it; you flinched. The kiss ended abruptly as you pulled back despite you not wanting it to end. But it couldn’t be helped. Not yet. You watched an array of emotions flash across Jake’s face before it settled on despair.

“Fuck.” The single syllable was wrenched from his throat as he took a step back and his hands fell back to his sides and left you cold. “Fuck, Punch, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I-”

“W-wait…I just…” How could you even phrase this without sounding unhinged? “I just need a moment.” Your next breath rattled in your lungs but you still reached for his hand and raised it again, moving it just enough for his fingers to encircle your throat once more. The roughened planes and angles of his hand had you shivering but you managed to drag your eyes up to his and tried to not show how nervous you actually felt. “It… you can, if you want. I’d actually prefer to have some good memories of something like this instead of-”

The rest of your rambling was cut off as his lips pressed against yours. The grip on your throat grew a little more insistent, a little heavier, but nothing stronger than just a simple weight, an anchor at your pulse. His other hand smoothed up your arm to curl over your cheek just as he pried your lips apart, delving into your mouth to steal the building whine from your throat.

Your heart hammered behind your ribs as you felt the warmth of Jake’s hand bleed through your shirt as his palm brushed the side of your chest. He moved forward and your legs instinctively parted to accommodate the thigh he was shoving between yours and your next breath caught in your throat when the denim brushed against the crux of your thighs.

“Fuck,” you hissed when Jake’s lips seared a path across your cheek and down your throat to bite at your thrumming pulse. You hadn’t even remembered when your hands had dropped to wrinkle his shirt again but you still pulled him closer as every nerve ending sparked. And then-

“Dancing Queen, young and sweet, only seventeen!”

Immediately, you pulled away from Jake with a grimace as ABBA’s song continued to fill the air. “Oh Jesus, that’s Natasha’s ringtone. She never calls.” You ducked beneath his arm for the second time tonight and pulled your phone off its perch on the kitchen counter and answered it as you heard Jake sigh. Turning to look at him, you saw his head drop to his chest for a moment before standing straight again and following in your footsteps toward the kitchen.

“I asked Rooster out and I think he thinks it is just as a friends thing and I want to bash my head against the wall.” Tasha screeched, words running together in a rush. She continued on, explaining that somehow she and Bradley had been roped into helping Penny restock the Hard Deck before opening today and Natasha had (finally) acted on her (reciprocated) feelings after Rooster had been his usually flirty self the entire time and then dragged Natasha to the piano and made her sing along to Elton John’s Your Song. Jesus.

You looked over at Jake to see him looking at you with another soft look on his face and a bit of pink in his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you mouthed to him.

He waved it away before stealing a quick kiss, too, that had your heart rate picking up again.

“Punch? You there?”

You pushed out a breath and shook your head as you pressed a hand to Jake’s chin, keeping him from doing it again. You could feel his self satisfied smirk against your fingers. “Yeah. I’m here. And, um, I don’t know. I think you’d be surprised with Bradley. He’s probably picking out his nicest Hawaiian shirt in preparation.”

Tasha groaned but you had to smile because Jake nipped at your fingers. “You think?”

“I do. It is gonna be great. I know it.”

She sighed, crackling the line, but eventually agreed. “He can’t be that oblivious right?” She asked, making you both laugh. “Also, don’t think I’m forgetting about you and Hangman coming to brunch together. We’re gonna talk on Monday.”

“You don’t forget anything, Tasha. I’m well aware.”

You eventually said your goodbyes after promising her you would talk to her on Monday and then dropped your phone on the counter again and your hand from Jake’s mouth.

“I never thought you’d be a tease.” His tone let you know he was joking but you also could have guessed with the smirk pushing at his mouth, too.

Your jaw dropped for a moment before an embarrassed giggle rippled out of you. “I said I was sorry! I was worried!” Biting your lip as you looked at him, you shook your head. “I didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”

“It was quite the moment, huh?” His smirk had fallen to a soft smile despite his self assured words.

“Yeah, it was.” You didn’t even want to tease him now but then a small voice whispered at the back of your mind that it wasn’t a moment to him. After all, who would want-

“Steak or seafood?” He asked, knocking the rest of your thoughts right out of your head.

“What?”

“I have a list of restaurants that I want to take you to, if you’re willing to let me pay and bring you flowers.” The usual bravado that bled through all of his words wavered now. Was he nervous?

“Sounds like you’re asking me out on a date, Ken.”

“I’m trying here, Punch. So? Steak or seafood.”

Hope and happiness were blooming and twisting and growing within the confines of your ribs now. He wanted to take you out on a date. “I’m allergic to shellfish,” was all you could say through your smile.

“Steak it is. I’ll update my list when I get home.” He reached out and swept his thumb across the slope of your cheek and you found yourself leaning into the touch a little more. Jake seemed content to just hold your face in his hand for a moment before he leaned forward to press a kiss to your temple. “I should go. I want to do this right with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to wine and dine you, darlin’. Want to earn those lips of yours again,” he said as his thumb moved to press at the heated skin of your bottom lip. “You deserve it. And I want to be the one to give it to you.”

For just a moment, you worried that Jake would hear how hard your heart was beating. No one had ever said anything like that to you before. “Oh.”

This was different. Jake was different. You just had to give him permission to show you.

“I’d like that.”

He smiled and stepped back, hand dropping back to his side. “You’re a good friend to Phoenix, by the way. Bradshaw, too.”

You smiled again. “They’re good to me. All of you have been.” Slowly, you herded him toward the door, knowing he had a plan.

He stopped at the door, just after you undid the locks. “Does Phoenix know?”

You shook your head, knowing exactly what he was asking. “It’s hard enough to be taken seriously in the Navy as a woman. She had her own battles, Luke was mine. I always thought she was so strong and, for a while, I thought she’d just see me as weak if she knew what I’d put up with. But I know now that is an unfair thought. Tasha is and always has been one of my best friends and staunchest supporters. I should tell her, right? And maybe I will, after all of this is over. I don’t…I don’t want anyone else I care about to be wrapped up in this. I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.” And you tried to ignore the sinking feeling that you had once again put Jake in Luke’s crosshairs.

But this time had to be different. It had to be.

Jake shook his head and cupped his hands at the back of your head before touching his forehead to yours. “We’re going to finish this, okay? We will.”

You nodded and smiled despite it all when he pressed another quick kiss to your forehead—it was like he couldn’t stop kissing you. And you weren’t about to complain. “Get home safe, Ken.”

You watched him get into his truck and waved as he pulled out and you knew he was telling you to lock your doors through the windshield. Your phone rang again just as he disappeared down the road and you knew by the way Jerry Lewis blared that it was now Bradley calling.

**

It had only been two days since Jake kissed you and had promised you a date. Two days and it was like the entirety of Top Gun was trying to keep you apart. You barely saw each other after he got roped into helping Captain Mitchell and Admiral Simpson into looking over the files of the next hopeful batch of aviators who could be called to San Diego. But it was fine. Sure. It wasn’t as if you could walk in holding his hand; you were still in the Navy and there were still protocols and rules you needed to follow. You had a feeling you and Jake would be breaking a lot of them.

You were kept busy with repairing Harvard’s jet after he managed to land safely after a bird strike. Your lunch breaks and evenings were spent talking to either Natasha or Bradley about their upcoming date-not-date while not revealing that you knew what the other was thinking. You did, however, mention to Bradley that Rueben and Mickey had started a betting pool about how long it would take Bradley to admit who he was in love with after Mickey spotted him with a pad of paper during lunch which was apparently filled with a speech about loving someone for years. You then spent the next hour workshopping the speech he was going to say to Natasha. It was beautiful and heartfelt and filled with analogies you tried to trim down (gently). He was still, annoyingly, assuming that their dinner on Wednesday was not a date in Natasha’s eyes but he was still going to try to confess his feelings and hope for the best.

You knew he’d be over the moon with how Natasha would react.

As Wednesday bled into Thursday, you were nearly dead on your feet but you’d been watching Natasha and Bradley all day, trying to decipher how their date had gone by their body language. You drove home that night without many answers but your phone rang just before you pulled down your street and quickly answered when Natsha’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hello?”

“He said he’s in love with me!”

“Hello, Tasha. How are you? I’ve had a great day. How was yours?”

“Oh, shut up!” She laughed. “I’m freaking out! He said he was in love with me—has been for years, apparently—and all I did was kiss him afterward. That’s not fair, right? I also need to have a speech. I can’t let him win this. I want to do a PowerPoint.” You had to mute your phone at that so she wouldn’t hear you snort. Everything was a competition. “Do you have that picture of me and him from Mav’s birthday last year?”

“I do,” you said, knowing exactly which one she was referencing. It was of Bradley and Natasha at the piano. Bradley had just led everyone through a rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ for Mav and there was still a flush on his cheeks. Natasha was right next to him in a stunning blue dress and smiling at him. It was the picture you promised to yourself that you would show at their wedding. You rushed inside, pinning the phone between your ear and shoulder and hurriedly shut the door behind you before darting toward your bedroom without bothering to turn on any of the lights—you said you’d drop it off at her apartment as soon as you’d found it. You were going to be in and out. You flopped onto your stomach, overturning the small mountain of pillows you had at the headboard, before grabbing at the storage container beneath the bed frame. You hauled it up and onto the bed and flipped the lid. To your chagrin, your “filing” system was essentially nonexistent when it came to photos and you started to sift through them as Natasha continued to talk, telling you about the date she’d planned and laughing about how much Bradley had stumbled over his speech.

God, it was so nice just to hear her laugh. They were going to be happy together. You knew it.

A door opened and closed slowly in the distance—your neighbor must’ve finally sprayed his door with WD-40 because it didn’t creak. Good. It only took him three years. But your heart nearly stopped when you heard your neighbor’s door open a few seconds later and its distinctive creak filled the night air. Something thumped down the hall and your spine went rigidly straight, still holding the phone to your ear as blood roared in your ears. You hadn’t locked the door. You had been inside for less than five minutes and you hadn’t thought it was necessary–you would have been leaving again soon anyway.

But you should have taken the time. A careless, stupid mistake.

The noise came again and sat up on bed, spilling the pictures in your hold onto your blankets. “Punch?” Natasha asked, pulling your focus. “You still there?”

“I…I think there’s someone in my house,” you whispered. Every part of your body was telling you to run. Right now. But where could you? Your house had one door and the person was in your living room.

Natasha was quiet for just a moment before whispering, “I’m gonna call the cops, okay? You hide.”

“N-no,” you hissed. “Don’t hang up. Stay with me.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll stay on the line with you, but-”

The line went dead with three terrible beeps and you wrenched the phone away from your ear to see ‘Call Lost - Try Again?’ written across the screen. No matter how many times you tried to call or text, nothing went through. The little icon at the top where you usually saw the lines denoting your network was now just a terrible X. The network was either down or whoever had come into your house had turned on a jammer. And you knew which was more plausible—but god, you had never wished for a network outage more.

Slowly, you slid off the bed and into the hall just as you heard the distinctive sound of a boot hitting the corner of your coffee table. Someone was in your house.

**

Mia had loved the books. Apparently her book club had ooh’d and ahh’d over the signed book but she had, as Jake knew she would, kept the copy of your newest book a secret but had rattled off her opinions to Jake. “And I can’t believe you know her!” She squawked on the other end of the line. It had been so good to hear the smile in his sister’s voice again. It was priceless. Jake had also evaded any questions as to who you were–it wasn’t his secret to tell–but he hoped that you’d be the one to tell Mia sooner rather than later.

It had been a good day. For the most part, anyway. He would have preferred to have had more than just a small smile and wave from you for the last few days, but he could be patient.

When Jake’s phone chirped with a new message, he’d expected something from Javy, keeping him up to date about the conversation he was hoping to have with his girlfriend’s father. The ring Jake had helped Javy pick out was burning a hole in his pocket and Jake hoped that his best friend would be able to plan a cool as fuck bachelor party and then make sure the whole wedding goes smoothly.

And maybe he could ask you to be his date. He could dance with you and make you smile and-

Any happy thought he had evaporated when he looked at his phone.

Someone broke into Punch’s house! I’m calling the cops!

Jake was in his truck before he could even think to type out a response and sped toward your house as the group chat started to explode with a barrage of texts he didn’t read. He knew who had broken in. There was only one possible answer.

Jake just hoped he’d get there in time.

**

You needed to get out of the house…or at least get to something you could use as a weapon. The baseball bat you kept near the bookshelves could work, right? Slipping further down the hall, you tried to tell yourself that you could get out of this.

Creak.

You clapped a hand over your mouth as you pressed your spine to the wall, trying to quiet your breathing.

Step.

Step.

Step.

He was in your kitchen. You knew the sound of hard soled shoes on the uneven tiles. Could you make a run for it? Could you trap him in the laundry room? That had to be your only option. You turned the corner into your living room and your stomach fell to your feet.

Luke was standing in your kitchen. Knife in hand. Waiting for you. He looked almost exactly the same as he did the last time you saw him. His brown hair was still cropped short. His brown eyes were still narrowed and cold. His clothes were rumpled designer brands. He hadn’t changed. And that was terrifying.

You dove for the baseball bat, curling your hands around it before you turned and swung blindly. The bat cracked against his arm and Luke yelled, low and guttural as he staggered backward for a moment. But then he was lunging forward and grasping at the bat to wrench it out of your hands. He threw it across the living room and it smacked against the wall, shattering the glass in two frames before knocking them to the floor with a terrible crack. You couldn’t go for it again. There was no way past him now.

You should have aimed for his head.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, baby?”

You cringed at the nickname but didn’t take your eyes off the knife in his hand.

Luke didn’t wait for an answer to his question before barreling on. “And look what you’ve done. Got all those nice pins on your shirt, moving up in the ranks, and…” he paused as a smirk slithered across this mouth, “you got my dad’s money. A nice little nest egg.You’ve done well for yourself, haven’t you? And you didn’t have to work for any of it.”

He took a step forward and you took one back, ankle colliding with your coffee table.

“And what about me? I’m so glad you asked!” He snarled. “I’ve been dishonorably discharged. And you want to know why?”

“I had nothing to do with that, Luke. W-we had an agreement, remember? I keep my mouth shut and you…you were supposed to stay away from me.”

Luke’s tongue clicked against his teeth before he waved the knife. “You had everything to do with it. That LoA in my file was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I could’ve been given another chance if you had just kept your mouth shut when I told you to back in the-“

“I didn’t say anything. You were going to get Bradley killed!” The words bubbled out of you before you could think of the repercussions.

Luke was on you in a flash. The tip of the knife pressed over your sternum and you could feel it with each labored breath you sucked in between clenched teeth.

“He would’ve been fine! I know how to do my job! You ruined everything and then took my dad's money!” The knife pressed closer closer closer. It started to tear through the thin material of your shirt and shallowly cut your skin. The whimper you felt blooming in your throat died when you saw the gleam in Luke’s eyes.

Before you could even stop to think of an alternative, you threw your hands up and caught the knife. The edge sank through the delicate skin between your fingers and into your palm but you didn’t recoil. Couldn’t. You were only able to drag the knife down, the tip cutting against the skin just above your stomach.

Fresh pain bloomed across your face and it took you a moment to realize that Luke had slapped you. And then he did it again, making sure to send your head flying backward to slam into the wall hard enough and have stars dancing in front of your eyes. Your grip almost fell, loosening a fraction, and just for a moment everything was silent.

Just a moment.

You’d never be able to describe the pain that bloomed as Luke moved and drove the knife in, slotting it between your ribs and twisting with a vicious flick of his wrist. Your next breath stalled just behind your tongue as every nerve ending exploded with heat and teeth and a terrible popping sensation bubbled beneath your skin. “L-Luke…”

He pushed the knife deeper as he pressed his cheek to yours in an echo of the hugs he used to give you. “I used to miss you, you know. Did you miss me? I treated you so well. I was good to you. So good. I gave you everything.” The knife rocked back and forth and you felt the ridge of it with each movement. You felt all of it. Your grip faltered against the knife gain but you knew you couldn’t drop your hold.

He would kill you.

“And you had to ruin it. You ruined my life.”

“L-Luke…”

“I need to hear you say it, baby. Tell me you know what you did. You had this coming. All of it.”

“I didn’t,” you wheezed. Your chest was collapsing in on itself like you had a boar sitting on your sternum.

“Say it! You don’t get to play victim this time. You were the one who ruined my life.”

“You were a d-drunk! I did all that work for you until you told me you’d kill me if I made you l-look bad again!” Each word was a crack against your ribs, sharp and biting, but you couldn’t stop. This would be your only chance to say this, you knew it. If you were going to die tonight, you were going to let him know what you really thought of him. “You…” You sucked in a breath that only served to make you ache. “You only got through basic because your daddy bribed someone. You only got into the Navy at all because he made a phone call to someone after you failed the ASVAB. You…you fail at everything you do. You were a shitty AD. And you couldn’t kill me.” Blood dribbled out of your mouth and you felt it slid down your chin. “Twice. So you better make this count.”

Luke’s teeth glinted in the low light and he ripped the knife out only to plunge it back in. You felt the blade scrape against the edge of your hip as you let out a scream that fizzled out to a gurgle as more blood filled your mouth.

“I’ll make it count!” Luke seethed as he drove the knife deeper and pushed you into the wall.

Everything burned. Everything ached. And all you could do was scream as your knees knocked together, strength dribbling out of you with each frantic pulse of your heart.

Luke leaned forward to press his forehead against yours and the knife twisted. “Do you feel it, baby? Do you feel me inside you?” His breath smelled of the expensive cognac you knew he liked to guzzle and rolled your stomach.

“Luke.” You didn’t want to die looking into his eyes. You didn’t want to die at all, but you weren’t going to have your last earthly memory be of Luke and his cold eyes, so you shut your eyes as the tips of your fingers started to tingle.

The screech of a siren broke through the haze of your mind. You had to laugh but that, too, was cut short when Luke pulled the knife out and rushed toward the window to see the night sky filled with red and blue lights. You crumpled. Your hands slapped against the floor for just a moment before you slumped in a heap against the carpet as your arms gave out.

You vaguely heard your front door slam against the wall and knock another picture from its perch. There was an answering sound of glass shattering before warm, rough hands gently grasped at your shoulders. You struggled for just a moment when your scrambled brain thought Luke had come back to make sure you were dead. Unfocused eyes barely registered Jake kneeling above you.

“Punch? Punch, c’mon darlin’. There you are.” His voice was muffled but you felt yourself smiling anyway as everything started to prickle like you’d pinned your limbs beneath your weight for too long. The smile quickly died when Jake’s hands clamped down over your wounds and a surprised yelp punched out from between your teeth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but I gotta stop the bleeding.”

“I-it hurts.”

“I know. I know it does. But it’ll only hurt a little longer, all right? You gotta stay awake for me. The cops are almost here.” His grip tightened. “We’ll get you fixed up and-”

“Where’s…Luke?” Was he still in your house? Would he hurt Jake?

“I don’t know, darlin’. He’s gone. We’ll find him, okay? We’ll find him and he’ll never do this to you again. But I need you to stay awake.”

Black dots were pushing their way into your line of sight, blotting out Jake’s worried face. “Ken…Jake…I wanted to get steak with you.”

Jake pressed harder and you could only whimper. “We will go get that steak. It’ll be the best date.” His voice was muffled, like you had shoved your head under water. And you struggled to hear him at all.

“Promise?” You asked, blood on your teeth.

“I promise.”

You smiled, despite it all. And then you were gone.

[imaginesmai]

Hewn City, where nightmares come true

Maybe this is a bit long and excesive? Maybe, but we love good angst, hurt and comfort. Thank you @marscardigan for your request! Feel free to send anything else. This is places inside the baker!reader universe, but it's independent. You can find other parts here.

Plot: your anonymity makes you a great choice for Rhysand's mission, even if Azriel doesn't agree. But you'll do anything to discover more of Azriel's life, even the worst part. So you decided to take that trip to Hewn City - where nightmares do come true.

Warnings: males being a lil creepy with their comments, Keir, violence.

“Az” you sighed for the third time that afternoon, staring at your stubborn mate. “It’s no big deal. Feyre has done it, Nesta has done it. Why can’t I?”

“They have done it because they have powers. They…” his words died when you raised a brow and dared him to tell you that they could and were different. More capable. “It’s not even about them, don’t change the topic. It’s about us. I don’t want you to do it”

“So, it’s fine when you leave for weeks to the mountains with a target on your back but I can’t accept one dance where you and your brothers will be watching?” you asked, and he finally looked away.

Azriel and you had been arguing about the same topic for two days in a row. Since Rhysand, who you had become fond of in the last years, asked you for a favor. He had been hoping you would come with them to Hewn City and dance with some males while they snooped around. You didn’t even have to carry weapons with you, since you would be introduced as part of their family.

It wasn’t dangerous or risky. It was a favor from your friend because Hew City didn’t know you. An unfamiliar face they would be too preoccupied studying to notice Feyre, Nesta and Mor sneaking into their studies. They would play the hard part. You just had to dance.

And Azriel was having a tantrum about it.

“The fact that you can’t even answer that question is enough. I’m going. And you can’t decide what I do and don’t”

“I can talk Rhysand out of it” he tried, not looking at you.

“Oh, like you haven’t tried that already”

You decided the conversation was finished and turned around to finish decorating the trail of cookies. Azriel was leaning against the counter, his usual place to watch you work in silent adoration. The storm in his eyes died down a little at the familiarity of your movements, at the comfort of the bakery.

Yes, he was mad. Mad at Rhysand because he hadn’t asked him first, mad at himself for considering he was your owner and needed to be asked for permission for you to do something. Mad at you because you couldn’t see how tight his heart became at the thought of you in someone else’s arms, dancing in a room full of vipers.

Half of the citizens of that rotten place had been tortured by Azriel at some point, and the other half had been gently tortured. He trusted Rhysand’s glamour to hide your bonded scent, but his rebel heart seemed to think otherwise.

For a while, he watched you work in silence, hands working your own particular magic with common ingredients. The fire eventually left his soul and he felt guilty enough to leave his spot. When you set the last trail in the oven, he took advantage of the vulnerable position and wrapped himself around you.

His wings created a small cocoon for the two of you, light barely seeping through the thick membrane.

“I’m sorry for being an overbearing mate” he apologized against your earlobe, letting his warm breath make you squirm. “You’re amazing and brave and you can handle everything you want, but I worry because I love you”

“And I’m also too smart and beautiful for your own good” you scoffed when one of his hands sneaked beneath your apron. “We’re gonna burn those cookies”

“Won’t the only thing burning for you tonight”

You bursted in a loud laugh and the rest of his anger faded away, giving up space for the usual love and adoration for you. In his arms, he could hear your heartbeat, smell the faint remains of vanilla from the previous muffins and your shampoo.

Azriel pushed you farther into his arms, and you didn’t complain. One of his arms was settled on your waist, under your apron but with no further intentions. The other one crossed your chest, and you gripped his forearm between your hands.

He was all hard muscles and soft skin. Even under his usual leathers, you could feel the familiar outlines of his arm. You looked up from his chest and saved the height different when you locked your eyes with him. From upside down, he was just as beautiful as ever.

His lips curved into an apologetic smile, although you were certain it wouldn’t be the last time you heard from it. Azriel was just a little less stubborn than you.

“I forgive you on one condition. You don’t bring it up to Rhys anymore. He already feels bad about it, you don’t have to remind him” you gently reprimanded him. “If he could, he would have searched for other solution. And I’m happy to help”

“You’re happy here, but down there it’s horrifying. And Rhysand and Hewn City can fuck – “

“Besides, I like doing things with you. From your other life”

Azriel’s life as the shadowsinger, as the spymaster, was still a bit hidden to you. You had gotten him to open up little by little, and he had shared some details that had you almost regretting your decision. But it was true that, besides doing Rhysand a favor, you wanted to do it with Azriel. Watch him work and be that tough male everyone feared.

That point made him roll his eyes and drop the matter with a brief kiss to your nose. He captured it between his teeth and playfully bit you, which earned him a swift elbow to his groin. Azriel teared apart just in time for the next customer to arrive.

With a sharp look that promised worst thing than an elbow, you left him in charge of the cookies and went to the front door.

-

Azriel hadn’t been allowed to see you before he big night. He had tried, but had received an arguable reason – that he would leave his smell all over you. As if he was a teen with hormone problems that couldn’t control himself. He was still fuming about it as he waited in silence by the throne, still pouting but intimidating.

His shadows were scattered all over the room, and he was purposefully ignoring Cassian’s warning glances. The last thing he could do to show his discomfort was terrorize a little their guests.

Rhysand had been introducing you in the dinner hall, where he hadn’t been allowed in. For centuries, the rules had kept Illyrian out of the finest and most elegant parts of the city, and it was one of the few rules he liked. He avoided pointless and tedious conversations waiting in the throne room.

“I bet Rhys he would wear line for a week you won’t last more than five dances” Cassian muttered under his breath, not looking away from the early guests. “Mor placed it at two”

“Glad my discomfort brings you joy, Cassian” he replied. “I plan to endure the whole night, if only for your troubles. What did Rhys bet?”

“Sex ban for a week”

Azriel rolled his eyes and finished the conversation. He was in for a long night, and he would try to endure it for you. Because you had looked so excited to be part of the plot, so bright and happy, he would never smudge that out.

The remains of your smile warmed his heart, and he relaxed a bit. You had been sitting right by his side as Rhysand went over the last details the previous night, listening to him like a hawk. Where you needed to dance, opposite from the entrance. Who you needed to charm or avoid, what you needed to act like.

He hated all of that, but he couldn’t deny that it made you happy. And whatever made you happy was worthy. The part he couldn’t stand was his absence during the grand dinner, during your introduction. It would raise many suspicions since Azriel never accompanied Rhysand there, therefore he had to wait at his usual spot.

Rotten on the spot with unusual nerves and doubts, he listened with trepidation the incoming steps.

“Don’t make me lose the bet. You don’t want to see me in a sex ban. Or Nesta” his brother announced quickly before the big doors opened.

“Shut up” Azriel hissed.

“A fair warning”

Rhysand walked in with cold indifference, Feyre walking by his side like the queen she was. His high-lord deemed worth the risk shoot him a warning glance, and Azriel thanked him, because it half-prepared him.

You walked right behind them, talking softly with Mor, and you were stunning. Beautiful. Bright. Radiant beyond the stars.

Azriel found the simplicity of your bakery uniform charming and perfect. The constant stains on your clothes, the sunny dresses you wore for your dates. Even training clothes made him stare longingly.

The dress you were wearing was long and dark, hugging all your curves and letting your left leg at plain sight. The cleavage lowered down to your waist, so low he could see the burnt scar you had gotten when you started your bakery. It showed your shoulders, your arms covered by a transparent, thin sheet of stars and bright dots. Azriel was glad he got a moment to digest the sight before seeing your exposed back.

You were so beautiful he stopped breathing, that he lowered his guard for the first time in that place. Someone could have tried to assassinate him from the front and he wouldn’t have seen them coming. Not when you were looking like a dream come true.

Rhysand was by his side before he could tear his eyes away from you, Feyre on his right.

“You may dance and drink and do whatever you like tonight” Rhysand motioned with a vague hand around. “But kneel first at your majesties”

“Lower” Cassian roared when only their heads lowered.

They all fell to their knees, as you and Mor watched by the side. While all their eyes were fixed on the ground, you looked at Azriel for the first time. He tugged frantically on the bond, proving Cassian wrong and behaving exactly like a hormonal teenager. You pulled back with a small smile – so small, so hesitant, that Azriel frowned.

It was different from the radiant one you had gifted him so many times during the last days.

He didn’t have to bother looking at Rhysand to have him speaking mind to mind.

“It’s her first time, she’s just nervous” his voice broke through the mental barriers, wary and full of concern. Azriel forced himself to look away from you, for your safety and his.

“What happened?”

“Nothing”

Rhysand knew him well enough to know he didn’t believe his answer, so he was met with flash of images of the previous dinner. How you had been introduced under predatory eyes, how your smile had died down a bit at the darkness and the coldness in their stares. Azriel’s whole body became alert as he watched through Rhysand’s eyes the dinner, no one daring to come close to you.

It would be different now, he knew, so he steeled his nerves as the first fae rose his head. 

They rose up one by one, and when Rhysand just kept mumbling something in Feyre’s ears, they deemed safe to start moving. Music started playing and males started looking for the company of women. Azriel’s neck vein pulsed painfully when a lesser fae walked up to you and Mor, asking for your hand.

From up there, he could smell your hesitance. You would follow the plan, as Mor stepped out with a small vow, Nesta nowhere in side. Feyre would leave shortly too, and you would only have to stay there until they came back. But Azriel had to remind himself to breath when you were taken to the dance floor by another male.

He had to give it to the first one – he was respectful enough to keep his hands your waist and not lower them. Azriel felt his power roaring inside him the whole time, and he couldn’t help but stain his ears to listen to the conversation.

Through the dances you granted, he did that, ignoring the rest of the world and looking without seeing through the room.

You’re beautiful, how is it we haven’t seen you around earlier?

I have a son, he has lands and power. Would you like to know him?

I was hoping to catch you all night. What is such a sweet flower like you doing here?

You smell nice, unbonded

Rumors say you are an unmarried female. Such a pity

The comments grew more unfortunate the longer the night went. Rhysand power was gently holding him in place, reminding him the importance of giving the girls time. The High lord was looking too much at you, for his sake, so they wouldn’t notice Azriel acting like a boiling bull next to him.

And that started to draw unwanted attention, the notice of his High Lord staring at a woman. You were nothing like the female that had walked hours ago into the ballroom. Once you had seen what Hewn City was, what your mate had to work with, you were withering away – and Azriel noticed.

Azriel was seeing every drop of your smile, every muscle you tensed. Blood dripped to the ground behind him from how hard he was clenching his fists. His shadows curled in the edges of the room impatient, ready to attack. He broke every bet they had and then the last male walked up to you.

“May I have this dance?” Keir asked as you were dropped by your last companion. “You are hard to catch, my dear”

You brushed off the last feeling of discomfort from hands on you, all night, and tried to think quick. He had been one of the few males Rhysand had warned you to stay away from, but he had scared off any other options. And your friends weren’t back yet.

“I was hoping for a break” you tried to seem confident. “Sit this one out”

“Pretty things like you shouldn’t be sitting”

You bit your inner cheek, regretting the help you had offered. You had been regretting since you had stepped in the hall, and you had met Azriel’s eyes. The way they shone with worry and concern, the desperate tug on the bond. He had warned you and you felt foolish, because you thought you could handle it.

There were reasons in fate why you worked in a quiet bakery and he spent his life in dungeons.

“Shouldn’t have dance with every male in this room if you’re gonna get scared now” he chuckled, all void and dark. It made the hairs of your arms raise. “I won’t bite. Not too hard”

Apparently out of options, you accepted his hand and kept a straight face when he pulled you closer. If you were honest, you were too close to crying. Your feet hurt, your heart was pounding way too loudly against your chest and you had been touched way too many times. Every inch of your body felt dirty and wrong, and Keir certainly had big hands.

You had avoided Azriel’s eyes all night. You knew Rhysand was looking out for you, maybe to draw attention away from your mate. But that had made more males, the worst type it seemed, to become interested in you.

Keir was the last of a long list you had endured so far. He shamelessly inhaled when he pulled you closer, his nose brushing the space between your shoulder and neck. You convinced yourself it was his nose, not his lips, that traced your pulse point.

“You smell divine. So sweet” he commented, keeping you close to his body. “Have you been taken yet, dear? Has a male unfiled you?”

“That’s not a question I want to answer” you complained. You weren’t sounding confident at all, not with his hand pressing against your waist. It sounded more like another question itself.

“Oh, how I will like to see this city defile you. A little, sweet thing. Didn’t your mother warn you about wolves and rabbits?”

You kept quiet at his words, looking down at your moving feet. That way, he couldn’t see the way your expression broke. You noticed your lip quivering, your body trying to become smaller in his grasp. Just a dance, you reminded yourself. The heat of Azriel’s eyes was still present on your back, Rhysand glamour tight around you.

Keir’s shoes became blurry when your vision filled with tears. So desperately, you wanted to be home, with Azriel. You wanted Rhysand to never need you again, to have Keir moved to another continent along with the rest of that doomed city.

“I wonder if you’ll be as quiet in bed. How much will your father make me pay for you? Maybe we can arrange things for this week” Keir suddenly gripped the edge of your chin and made you look up, with a serious look on his cruel face. “Are you fertile, dear?”

The way he was speaking about you, his fingers gripping your face, was enough to make the first tear roll down. The male actually looked surprised at the sight, but once it had fallen, you couldn’t control yourself.

It could have been like that, you realized, if you hadn’t found Velaris. If Az wasn’t your mate, instead a male like Keir or someone worse. Your eyes searched desperately for him, without need to ask for help.

Azriel had reminded you many times that only one look and he would be right beside you, court matters dammed. He had made you say it out loud multiple times, had gotten you a small bargain tattoo on the back of your ankle. His eyes were already dark and troubled when you met them, his body ready.

He winnowed between shadows before anyone noticed, and then those same shadows were besides you. Keir’s fingers were ripped from you with a sickening crack, and you only saw Azriel’s fighting leathers. His rough hands tucking your face farther into his body, his shadows crawling up to your knees and calves.

They were cool against your sweaty skin, Azriel a calming and safe presence. Your face scrunched in a silent cry as you let your pent-up emotions consume you. You hugged him tight, not looking at the source of the screams.

“Scum” Azriel scoffed at the male in the ground, shooting Rhysand a warning glance.

“This is over. Forever”

“Azriel. They will know”

“Fuck you”

Rhysand could only witness in tense silence as Keir’s body tried to fight off Azriel’s shadows. Always so gentle around your body, they wrecked the male on the ground. They burnt his arms and snapped his fingers, squeezed his throat until his eyes budged. Azriel watched with murderous indifference as he held you trembling.

That was what he had wanted to tell you, to warn you about. You were capable of everything, you were brave and amazing. But that city was filled with trash and they could suck the life out of anyone.

“I want to go home” you whispered against his chest, your knees trembling.

“You have always been stupid, Keir, but you can always surprise me” Azriel growled, so primitive and feral that the room fell quiet. “Let’s see if you can quiet your screams tomorrow”

Feyre running out of one of the many doors was the last thing Azriel saw before winnowing you both away from Hewn City. He let his shadows hide you, but used his wings for good measure of protection.

In a few seconds, you were back in your apartment in Velaris, above your bakery, the sweet scent of summer nights filling the space. It no longer smelt like death and expensive perfume, like rotten flesh and arrogance. Azriel didn’t let you go as you squeezed his middle with a surprising force.

He knew what you needed without explanation. Carefully, he unlaced the dress on your back, his hands brushing any inch of skin those males had touched. Each trembling sigh, each tear he smelt on you, made him physically hurt to go back and kill them all. Pull at their limbs and hang them from their insides.

Rhysand would be hearing for him for a while, everyone in his family would. He squeezed his eyes shut as he listened to your whimpers, that stabbed into his heart like sharped knives. Azriel ripped the sleeves off your dress and could have burned it with the sheer force of his hate.

When you were finally standing with just your underwear, he allowed himself a moment of reassuring. Since the moment he had met your eyes, he was done for. The destiny of the world could have been in risk that he would have had still acted.

His hands were shaking too when he pulled your face away from his chest, cupping your cheeks. They were wet with tears, Keir’s fingers marked on your chin. He watched those beautiful eyes, that had shone at the idea of working with him, carry the burden of that night.

“I’m sorry” you whispered brokenly, your breath speeding up again. “I’m sorry I messed it up”

“You did perfect, darling. You did so good. So good” he assured you with passion, bringing your face closer to him until you couldn’t avoid his burning gaze. “They got out and you did perfect, but you won’t have to do it never again. I promise, Y/N, never”

You cried in his hands, and Azriel broke at the sight. What type of mate allowed their partner to go through that? To have strangers’ hands on them for hours? He hated himself a little bit more for that, but tried to hide it as he kissed your forehead.

He tangled his fingers between your locks as his lips lowered down your face. To your closed eyelids and wrinkles. Azriel kissed every tear, your nose, the edges of your pointed ears. He let his lips linger at the bruises on your chin, and found comfort at having Keir paying for them next morning.

Azriel ended up picking you between his arms, and carrying you to your room. It still held the remains of your excitement – scattered clothes close to the wardrobe, make-up products opened and half-used. He pointedly ignored them as he carefully dropped you in bed. Your arms didn’t unhook from his shoulders, and he didn’t complain.

“I hate them so much” he admitted in a whisper, close to your ear. “I hate them”

He had hated them since he was a child, had wanted to keep them away from you. He considered if moving to another continent with you was far enough, or if he would be forced eventually to kill them for breathing the same air. Those decisions would have to wait until the next morning.

Still on his leather clothes, Azriel let you lay on his chest and draped the sheet over your bodies. He ignored Rhysand’s talons against his mental shields, only hug you closer. He listened to every shaky breath of yours, caressed away with his thumb the last tears you shared.

“I’m sorry I doubted you” you said eventually, almost when Azriel thought you were asleep. Raising your head from his chest, you met his eyes. “You were right. I’m sorry”

“I wish I had been wrong. I… sometimes I wish it was different. That I worked in the Archives or owned a coffeeshop” Azriel talked just as quietly. “Then I could have you with me always. I hate my job, but I love my court. I love Velaris and I want it to be a safe place, so I gotta endure those things”

“I wish that was different too”

It was foolish to wish on things that couldn’t happen. Azriel would die before letting you close to that part of his life again. He wasn’t done by far with Hewn City or his own brothers, but that night he only held your naked body close. Every now and then, he would recall a certain moment of the night and remember the exact point a stranger’s hand had touched – Azriel would caress that same spot, feeling you hug him tighter.

Neither of you slept that night, and you didn’t open the bakery the next day. It took Azriel two days to be able to leave your presence without feeling the need to rip Rhysand’s head off his shoulder, five baths to erase the memories of those hands. Keir rotted in a cell, accompanied only by Azriel’s shadows, in the meantime.

Three days later, when Azriel came back to Hewn City after leaving you in the bakery, Keir couldn’t keep quiet.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

Azriel taglist:

@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @starsinyourseyes , @bakananya

[sunflowersteves]

kinktober day 005 — thigh riding

pairing || joel miller x afab!f!reader

summary || you and joel liked to play games. how long can you last without him touching you?

author's note || wow so, I’m back! I know I dipped after one kinktober fic, but I was honestly forcing myself. I finally have the motivation and excitement for writing again <3

warnings || fluff, some soft!joel, SMUT, praise kink, thigh riding, dom x sub, [18+ only]

FREE PALESTINE - info, info, info

kinktober masterlist

“Are you going to behave?”

It was such a simple question. It was one that Joel had asked quite often—especially to you.

There was something in the way that he said those five words. His eyebrows were always furrowed, and a frown was etched across his features. His gruff, rumble of a voice would send shivers down your spine. Your nails would dig into his flannel jacket—just so you would be able to stay calm.

It was always a game that you so dangerously played. Who breaks first?

You had been teasing him quite literally all night. You teased him before communal dinner by swaying your hips a bit extra while walking down stairs. You teased him during the dinner when your hand gracefully placed itself on top of his thigh. You slowly inched your way forward toward the thing you had been so desperately wanting.

Sure, you were the one teasing, but had he seen himself? He looked so handsome with his dark flannel shirt and navy jeans. The cuffs of his sleeves were folded up, nice and neat—which didn’t help the ache in your heart as you stared at his veiny forearms.

So, you didn’t say a word to him. You couldn’t.

His eyebrow gently lifted, as if to say “I’m not repeating myself.” The action alone made you swallow thickly.

“Yes.” You barely whisper. All he did was stare at you with his bright, brown hues—and yet he melted you right into a puddle.

He has you on the couch, gently splayed on his lap. Your chest was facing his own with your legs on either side of him and it was becoming increasingly harder to avoid his intense gaze. His breaths were slow and deep, but you could tell that there was something tingling coursing through his veins.

“You sure?” He gruffed out. “‘Cause by the way you’re actin’ right now, I’m not so sure I believe it.”

You knew you had thirty minutes until Ellie, Maria, and Tommy came over for the weekly game night. You knew that if you acted anything out of line, you were going to get it when they left. There was a part of you that grew excited from the chance of pissing off your sweet partner—it made you giddy.

Joel had other plans, though. Normally, when you were misbehaving like this—he would make you wait until the unbearable possible second and then you would snap. Tonight was different.

Joel wanted to give you exactly what you wanted. He didn’t want to play that game anymore—it was predictable.

“I’m sure, Joel.” Half of the sentence that spews out of your mouth was jumbled from the way that his hands settled down to your hips and squeezed.

He huffed, not believing a single word. He knew you—knew that no matter how much of Joel you seem to obtain, it never fulfills you enough. You’re always ready for him.

He was just so thick. The way his arms bulged out of his sleeves and his chest pushing against the buttons of his flannel. His thighs—god, his thighs—strung right against the thick jean material. How could anyone resist that?

“It’s okay, sweet thing. I know you just need a little somethin’.” You become confused and almost deranged when one of his hands leave your waist and start to casually unbuckle his belt.

“Joel—” You couldn’t even finish the question that was perched on top of your tongue. Your mouth clamped shut as he shuffled his jeans down his legs.

“Jus’ sit pretty, would you?” He almost rolls his eyes. After being so long with one another, one would think you would have gotten used to Joel caring for you. Old habits die hard.

“Let me take care of you, hmm?” He asked, the hum vibrating against his chest. No matter what, Joel always made sure to get a verbal response. The action alone made your heart skip a beat.

He maneuvers you over so he can skillfully take off your shorts and underwear. His breath hitches at the sight of your hairy mound and the slick peaking through your folds.

“Oh baby,” he coos once more, “bet you been aching like this all day.”

He moved your hips forward, creating the friction right against your clit. You gasped at the newfound feeling, pleasure sparking against your spine. “So fuckin’ pretty, sweet girl.”

You whimpered at the praise. The way his dark eyes stared straight into you, not letting himself miss a single moment churned something deep within your chest.

“J-Joel—” It sounded so pitiful when the sound left your lips. Joel couldn’t help but coo. His hand briefly left your hip

Joel starts to breathe heavily, his boxers feeling even more tight around his cock. “Good girl. Look at ya.” He huffed out.

Your hips rocked back and forth on his thigh, slick dripping from your core and onto his unclothed thigh. You moaned, head lulling to the side at the pure pleasure coursing through you.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl.”

You whimpered at his praises. Your hand wanted to desperately reach out and drag his lips onto yours, but you refrained. Just like he asked. Sit there and look pretty.

“Doin’ such a good job for me, aren’t ya?” He pauses, head tilted down to watch the way you drag your puffy clit against his meaty thigh. “Look at you, pretty girl. Fuck—”

He could feel the way his cock throbbed against his boxers. He almost could smell the way your slick rubbed against his skin. He let out a moan when he heard a beg from your lips.

“Please, Joel—please.”

You were drenched in wanton. Your eyes were glassy with each roll of your hips across his bulging thigh. “That’s my good girl. Just needed me so bad, yeah?”

You nodded, whining when he pressed his thumb against your clit. “So bad, Joel. I need—I need—”

“Sh, I know, pretty. I’ve got you.”

His thumb pressed deeper onto your sensitive nub. Just the pressure alone, and the pure agonizing pleasure was just enough to send you over.

Your chest arches into him as you say his name over and over. Your legs start to shake and give out, but Joel still rocks your hips back and forth. The pleasure spins through your core and to your head, sending you feeling fuzzy and euphoric.

He presses sweet kisses to your cheeks, whispering praises against your skin. “Let go, baby, yeah that’s it. So good for me. You did so good. I know you wanted that so bad. Such a good girl.”

Finally, your body goes slack against his broad chest. He lets out a chuckle at how spent you look. He knew that going on patrol would leave you a babbling mess.

You practically purred into him. You pressed your cheek against his chest and inhaled his deep woody scent. His arm wrapped around your form and pulled you in deeper. He let out a content sigh before kissing the tip of your nose.

You never get tired of nights like this.

halloween header by @saradika 🖤

[just-jordie-things]

[part eleven] to build a home - gojo satoru

word count: 7.4k warnings: !!manga spoilers!! swearing, jjk-verse style fighting series summary: when (y/n) (y/l/n) catches wind that the notorious sorcerer killer, toji fushiguro, has children, she makes it her personal mission to find them. the catch being she couldn't tell a soul about them- the risk of the zen'in clan learning about them was too great. keeping the secret isn't the hard part, it's lying to her friends, shoko ieiri, geto suguru, and of course gojo satoru, that she struggles with. especially when satoru has suddenly become so keen on keeping an eye on her lately.

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[part eleven] : “Brazil” ___

(y/n) woke up to six texts the next morning, which was a lot, but not as many as she was expecting after a huge fight with one of her supposed best friends.  A part of her wanted to shut her phone off and keep it that way for the day, knowing that today was going to be stressful enough without the technology keeping anyone updated every second of every day.  The thought was brief, knowing she couldn’t actually ignore the world.  But she could daydream about it.

Three texts from Shoko, two from Tsumiki, and one from Suguru.

Deciding to open the messages from Tsumiki first, she opened the photo attachment.  This proved to be the right first choice, seeing the bunny shaped pancakes that Tsumiki made for herself and Megumi that morning.  She saved the photo to her phone right away.

[tsumiki]: megumi said they’re almost better than yours!

(y/n) smiled at the message, and typed back a quick reply.

[(y/n)]: looks cuter than mine :)

(y/n) got out of bed and finally got to work on her morning routine, partially to distract her from the other messages, and partially to give herself some time to figure out how to respond to them.

It was the right thing, pushing Satoru away, even though she had to be cruel to do so.  To his heart, and hers.  If she didn’t, he would only make it harder for her to keep her secret, and if he got involved… (y/n) could barely stand to think about it.  The Zen’ins were a force to be reckoned with, Shoko’s words came to mind often.  And Satoru had already had a run-in with them, even if it was just Toji.

‘Just Toji’ had done a lot of damage, she recalled the night in the kitchen those few months ago, the scar on Satoru’s throat would be burned in her memory for life.  Even if it was gone now, it almost killed him.  He almost killed him.

So despite her broken heart, and despite the way her entire body ached when she thought about what she’d said to him yesterday, (y/n) had to keep Satoru out of this.

If she played her cards right, she could protect everyone.  Tsumiki, Megumi, and Satoru.  She could keep them all safe and under her protection, she just needed a little more time to figure out just the right steps to take to do so.  If they could all be patient for a little while longer…

Once she was cleaned up and dressed in her neat uniform, (y/n) finally opened the messages from Shoko.

[shoko<3]: are you okay? satoru said you guys had a fight [shoko<3]: he didn’t tell us any details, but he seemed pretty upset. [shoko<3]: it’s not like you guys to fight like that. i just want to make sure you’re ok

(y/n) huffed.  She didn’t want to push Shoko away like she had to with Satoru, and she didn’t think she’d have to.  Her and Suguru had always given her more space than the Six Eyes user, but given the circumstances, she supposed it made sense for Shoko to reach out like this.  Satoru was her friend too.

Although it was odd that he hadn’t jumped at the opportunity to tell them the nasty details of what she’d said to him.

[(y/n)]: just a fight. no big deal.

She winces as she sends the message, knowing it wasn’t going to ease Shoko’s worry in the slightest.  It was barely scraps of what really happened.

[(y/n)]: i’m sorry i worried you, but i’m ok.  see you in class, i got a new assignment to tell you about :)

It was redirection at it’s finest, and surely Shoko would see right through it, but (y/n) hoped it was enough for now to downplay the situation and keep Shoko from having any interest in it.

All this time, and she’d still barely learned how to tell a convincing lie.

With that, she opened the last message.

[suguru]: let’s meet before class.

She paused longer on his single, context-less text than she had with Shoko’s.  Surely he wanted to give her an earful on how she’d treated his best friend, and surely it was going to be just as cruel, if not worse.  But when Suguru wanted information about something, he wasn’t as easy to distract as Shoko was.  He wasn’t going to accept a cigarette as a peace offering and pretend it never happened.  He was bound to be upset.

If Yaga wouldn’t have her ass for it, she’d skip classes altogether and avoid all three of them.  She could use the extra training time before she left tomorrow, or maybe she could check in again with the Fushiguro kids.  Anything would be better than facing any one of them.

She decides Suguru is the lesser of three evils.

[(y/n)]: alright.  coffee in the kitchen? ten min?

Her fingers tremble against the side of her leg as she walks through the halls, hoping not to run into anyone as she beelines for the small kitchen off the common room.  Today’s an odd day that she’s grateful there aren’t many jujutsu sorcerers in the world, and much less at this school.

She’s there five minutes after she’d texted Suguru, and to her surprise, he’s already there too.

“You and I have always been the punctual ones,” He muses when she enters.  He turns away from her to pour a cup of coffee.  “I’ve always appreciated that about you”

“I appreciate that about you, too” (y/n) replies, and even though it’s the truth, she sounds disingenuous.  Even her honest moments started to sound like shitty lies these days.

She hadn’t braced herself for what was to come, but even if she’d tried, no amount of time would have been enough.  This was the part where Suguru tells her everything she already knew- that she was a terrible person, and a terrible friend.  Her fingers tap against her leg without any rhythm.  Just fast.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Suguru says, casting a glance over his shoulder at her as he finishes off the warm drink with cream and sugar.  “You can sit if you want, might be a few minutes”

“I don’t mind standing.  I’m a bit on edge, I’m sure you understand” She tells him honestly.  Suguru nods.

“I do.  I have to admit, I’ve been feeling the same way lately.  Just… off,”

It’s quiet between them for a minute, until he turns to face her, handing her the cup of coffee he’d finished.

“Two creams, two sugars” He tells her with a smile.

(y/n) can’t help a small smile back as she takes it, thanking him quietly.  It was thoughtful of him to remember exactly how she took her coffee, but as nice as the gesture was, the bitter feeling of regret echoes in her chest.

“We can get straight to the point, Suguru,” She sighs, dropping her gaze to the steaming cup in her hands.  “I’m sure you’re… upset”

He doesn’t say anything right away, and the few seconds of thoughtful silence gives her a chance to double down on her metaphorical emotional walls, so hopefully when he lays into her, she won’t cry.

“Do you think it’s a good thing that we protect non-curse users no matter what?”

Her head snaps up, completely taken aback by the question.  Not due to it’s nature, she simply wasn’t expecting a deep look into morals first thing this morning.  Not after what she’d done.

But maybe somehow the two things were connected.  (y/n) proceeded with caution.

“I suppose, yes,” She answers.  “They can’t protect themselves the way we can protect them, right?”

“Right…” Suguru seems to agree, but his eyes glaze over and he seems to go elsewhere, like maybe he didn’t believe completely in her words.  “Even though not all humans are good?”

(y/n) raises a brow as she takes a tentative sip of her coffee.

“We’re humans” She says, like it’s a reminder, like it’s something one could forget about oneself.  That they’re human.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Suguru chuckles, shaking his head.  “But… you know what I mean”

She didn’t.

“You think non-curse users are that much different from us?” (y/n) asks, trying to understand where he was going with this.

“You don’t?” He asks, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly.

Sure, non-curse users lived different lives than those in the Jujutsu Society.  But (y/n) always thought of it as the purest form of ignorant bliss- as they didn’t even know the horrors they were shielded from.  It was actually one of the many reasons she wanted to take the vow to protect them.

She didn't answer his question, but she didn’t have to.  Suguru picked up on just exactly what she was thinking.

“Don’t you think it’s odd?” He asks a different question instead.

(y/n’s) face twists into a confused expression.  How was this leading into her fight with Satoru? This… was about her fight with Satoru, right?

“Think what’s odd?”

“That they’re the cause of the very thing we’re going to dedicate our lives to killing,”

Suddenly, (y/n’s) body feels stiff.  Her hands are clamped tightly around the handle and round edge of her mug, and her feet feel glued in place.  Her eyes feel glued, too, watching his every move and expression, trying to figure out what was going on, or what the hell he was talking about.

Killing, the word rings in her head like it’s explicit, and he just said it so casually.  Briefly, she recalls Megumi using it to describe exorcizing a curse, before she corrected him of the proper terminology.

However Suguru wasn’t an eight year old child who was new to this world.  He was well aware of the proper vocabulary.  He’d chosen to refer to it as killing with purpose.

“And they have no idea…” Suguru continues, but he trails off again.  (y/n) wonders what’s going on his mind that he’s so lost in.

“Suguru,” (y/n) speaks softly, and she tries to keep that tone as she continues.  “I don’t think I’m following you” A short laugh escapes her, but it’s quiet, and nervous.

“Ah, I’m not making sense,” He chuckles, raising a hand to the back of his neck.  “I guess what I really mean to ask is… do you think it’s always worth it?”

Well, that question did nothing to clear up the confusion.

(y/n’s) silence was enough of a tell to Suguru that she didn’t understand where he was coming from, and she wasn’t going to.  This deflates him, but she’d never know it, as his little smile and curious eyes didn’t falter for a second.

“Well,” (y/n) sighs, trying to think of the right thing to say.  

She wasn’t sure where he was coming from, but he seemed… lost.  Like he’d been questioning himself and his path as a jujutsu sorcerer a little too harshly.  She could understand that, at least.

“I know sometimes making the world a better place is… slow work… but for me, it’s my passion,” She shrugs her shoulders lightly.  “And when I start to doubt myself, I just remember who I’m doing it for”

Suguru nods, but something tells (y/n) that it wasn’t the answer he was looking for.

“I see,” He says, and lets out a soft sigh.  “And do you keep that mindset when we’ve just protected a trafficking ring from curses?”

(y/n) blinks, and fights a shiver from swimming down her spine.  Where was this coming from? Why was he being like this?

“Suguru…”

“You remember that day we were sent to retrieve Riko Amanai?” He asks her.

“Yes…” She answers, the cruel memories of that failed mission flooding her mind as soon as she heard the girl’s name.

This conversation made her uneasy enough, but now her stomach was churning and her knuckles were turning white around her mug of forgotten coffee.  She wanted an out, but every word Suguru spoke seemed to keep her frozen in place.

“All of our efforts that day, to protect her, and to make sure no one else got hurt-”

“Why are you bringing this up, Suguru?” (y/n) cut him off.  She didn’t need him to relive everything that happened that day- she did that on her own almost every day.  “You’re really going to rewrite your moral code over one bad mission?”

For the first time during this talk, his face sours.  (y/n) knows she should apologize for snapping at him, but she doesn’t.  Instead, she gives him a piece of her mind.  

“You work me up into thinking you’re upset about what happened with Satoru, and then waste my time by telling me you want to- what, rethink the entirety of your life’s choices?” She scoffs at him, and sets her mostly-full mug of coffee down on the counter, a little more forcefully than she needed to.

Suguru’s face is blank now, and he’s harder to read, but she’s done with this guessing game where she keeps losing.

“If you want out Sugu, I won’t stop you,” She tells him, staring him dead in the eyes without the fear or hesitation like she had before.  He notices this.  “I certainly didn’t stop Nanami.  Your life is your own to control, so stop acting like you were forced into doing something you didn’t want to,”

His eyes narrow at her choice of words, but she ignores it.

“That said, if you left now, it would only prove to be a waste of your talents.  You’re one of the strongest men in the whole world, no force on earth could take you on.  So if you leave, you’re only proving that the world was wrong”

That peaked his interest, and now he was back at his word games.

“That so?” He hums, amused by the thought.

“You’d be proving the world was wrong about you.  And that despite your abilities, you’re not strong enough to handle them,” (y/n’s) voice softens, remembering this was her friend, and despite everything, he was her friend.  “I care about you Suguru, so… if you’re done with this…”

Something in her expression changes, and Sguru can see that her irritation had worn off, melted into something softer.  She looks defeated, almost, but forces a small smile anyways.

She’d changed.  Just like him.  Sometime between the Star Plasma Vessel incident and right now, something had morphed her, aged her, made her look tired.  He could see it in her eyes, and the waver in her half-baked smile.  It was all there before him, begging him to ask her what she’d been up to these last few months.  He understood Satoru’s curiosity now, when he saw her up close.  (y/n) was a different person now.  And this certainly wasn’t because of some romantic affair.

“I won’t stop you” She sighs, finishing her thought.

Curious now, Suguru tilts his head at her.

“I told you once I wasn’t going to interrogate you about what you’ve been up to in town…” He starts, and instantly (y/n’s) stomach is churning again.  “But now I see that whatever it is, it’s changed you, hasn’t it?”

The way he smirks has her blood boiling.  The protective nature that Megumi and Tsumiki had brought out of her had her fingers curling against her palms in tight fists, which didn’t go unnoticed by Suguru.  He eyes her defensive stance with intrigue, before meeting her eyes again.

“There’s not a force on earth that could drill it out of you, is there?” He asks, and her lack of response is answer enough.  He clicks his tongue.  “Interesting”

“You’re right Suguru,” (y/n) admits in a mutter.  The soft, worried tone she’d held for him earlier long gone, now that a part of her felt as though her kids were threatened.  “I have changed”

Her eyes are piercing now, only furthering Suguru’s amusement.  

Whatever this stupid secret is, it must be a good one, he thinks to himself, suddenly wishing that Satoru had the guts to force the damn information out of her.  Surely he was the only one of them who could, but of course his feelings had gotten in the way and the weak part of his heart only resulted in him getting exiled from the girl’s life.  Suguru didn’t care about exile, and if he was honest, he didn’t care about this secret either.  His interest lied in the hold it had on her.

Looking at her now, with her hands balled into fists, her posture rigid, and her eyes piercing into his with a venom he’d never seen before, much less directed at him, he knew it must be worth something to her.  Something big.

“As have I,” He finally tells her, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

(y/n) looks him up and down, noticing even his aura felt different.

Bad different.

“This secret of yours…” He trails off, narrowing his eyes slightly.  “Is it worth your life?”

Her defensive stance falters, for a brief second, but Suguru doesn’t give her the chance to actually respond to his question.  He didn’t need her response.  She’d made it perfectly clear the lengths she’d go to keep her covert life just that- and while he was a little curious just how much further she could be pushed before she snaps, he leaves.

Suguru doesn’t say a word as he brushes past her, he doesn’t even look at her.  Just walks away with a smug smile, and an aura around him that was strangely… eerie.

(y/n) stayed planted in her spot in the kitchen for a few minutes longer, her mind swarming with paranoia.

Was this all because he was upset about what happened with Satoru?  

Were the mind games meant to throw her off, and throw herself down a rabbit hole?

Or had he actually figured her out? Was he aware of Megumi and Tsumiki? But that couldn’t make sense… he would have had to follow her, and she would have noticed his presence if he had, right?

No, none of that could be it, he was barely making any sense, he must have been prodding at something else completely.

With a sigh, (y/n) shoved her hand through her hair, as if it would provide any relief to her overworked and throbbing brain.  The mental torture Suguru had managed to put her through in the last ten minutes was worse than any curse she’d ever taken on- even that one Special Grade with the tentacle arms who nearly ripped her leg clean off.

He’d never spoken to her like that before.  He’d never acted like that before.  It was completely out of character and it had her completely overthinking about everything that had happened in the last few months.

But she didn’t have time to overthink.  She had to get to class and act like everything was normal, tell Shoko about the assignment she was leaving for- which was tomorrow- and keep up the act that no one needed to be suspicious of her because there was nothing to be suspicious about.

When she finally left the kitchen and hastened her pace to get to class on time, (y/n’s) heart was pounding in her ears so hard, she was sure she was going to get a headache.

She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep all of this up.

But if it could only be a little longer… ___

Suguru hadn’t gone to class.  Yaga had briefly mentioned something about a last minute assignment that the elders had sent him on, and (y/n) wondered if that had to do with his sudden urgency to talk with her.  She wasn’t sure how long he’d be gone, but with her weekend being taken over by her own assignment in Brazil, they likely wouldn’t have crossed paths otherwise.

Propping her head in her hand as she paid half of her attention to Yaga’s lesson, (y/n) wished he’d just gone on the mission and skipped their conversation altogether.

She’d stopped her notetaking a few minutes ago, her mind wandering off to a million other things that seemed more worth her time.

For starters, how quickly she needed to get through her assignment tomorrow so that she could rush back to Tokyo.  Even with the cursed tool that she’d given Megumi, she didn’t want to be out of the country for longer than she needed to.  A lot could happen over one weekend.  One weekend is all it took for her to get into this mess to begin with.

She scribbles something in her notebook when Yaga’s eyes land on her, feigning interest in his lesson.  What was he talking about? Special grades? A history lesson on early jujustu society?

Peeking over to Shoko on her right, she noticed that she’d managed to take her notes diligently, as usual.  Surely she’d let (y/n) borrow them to brush up on later.

On her left, Satoru did not seem to have the same work ethic as Shoko, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.  She knew that he did his work when he needed to, and he knew the material like the back of his hand, but (y/n) wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him take notes.  He tended to just steal hers whenever he pleased.  

Although he probably wouldn’t be asking for them anytime soon.

He didn’t look any different than usual, his expression bored even hidden behind his sunglasses.  She wasn’t sure how she expected him to look, wasn’t sure if he’d show up to class disheveled, tired, maybe even send her a mean look.  But he looked normal.  And besides not speaking or looking at her, he was acting normal too.

Somehow that felt worse.

(y/n) had her things collected and was out of her seat as soon as class was done for the day.  She was out the door even before Yaga.  Rushing out wasn’t exactly necessary, seeing as she and Shoko were going to meet up for lunch, but the quicker she could be out of a space shared with Satoru, the better.

Besides, a few extra minutes to collect her thoughts was much needed.  Although she didn’t have much time, as Shoko was jogging up to the table just a minute after (y/n) had sat down.

“Alright, you better start explaining yourself,” The short haired brunette said through quiet pants.  “Because Satoru won’t say shit- and you just booked it out of there! What the hell?”

(y/n) hoped that her expression remained neutral, even though she was internally cringing.

“It’s complicated, can we just not talk about it?” She sighed.

“No!” Shoko nearly screeched as she plopped onto the bench across from her.  “No we can’t just not talk about it! That’s crazy!”

(y/n) frowned, but Shoko didn’t seem to mind the uncomfortable tension settling between them, because she continued her rant.

“We don’t just fight and not talk to each other, (y/n).  We’re best friends.  All of us”

“No, you’re my best friend and you come with a matching set that follows you around” (y/n) mumbled.  And now they follow me around too, she thinks bitterly.

“That’s not fair or true,” Shoko rolls her eyes.  “You love them both, too,” She says like it’s a reminder.  “And I know Satoru gets under your skin… but… that’s just what he does, and I know this can’t be about that because you’ve let him get under your skin for three years now.  So fess up already.  What.  Happened?”

(y/n) stared at her, pleading with her eyes that she could just drop it.  She didn’t have a good enough explanation, and she didn’t want to lie to Shoko anymore than she already has.

She really should have thought this through when she cut things off with Satoru.

“Is it… romantic tension?” Shoko asked slowly.

“What!? No!” (y/n’s) voice betrayed her as it raised and cracked, making her sound completely unbelievable.

“Oh really?” Shoko raised a brow.  “Because you know that I know that he’s been sleeping with you since Haibara passed”

There’s a pang in her chest upon hearing his name.  A harsh reminder that no matter how much time would pass, his name, his memory, would forever be surrounded by a haunting cloud of pain.  That was grief, she supposed.  Nonetheless, (y/n) mustered up the will to roll her eyes at Shoko’s insinuation.

“Sleeping sleeping,” She mutters.  “That’s it.  Nothing funny”

“Yeah right,” Shoko scoffed.  “You’ve had funny business between you since day one.  If you didn’t go through some weird non-couple couple fight, why the hell was Satoru in a pissy mood saying you were done with him?”

Now she was toggling the line between mildly annoyed and genuinely pissed off.  The ongoing assumption that Shoko had once made as a joke was no romance between her and Satoru.  And now, there was nothing left between them at all.  It was becoming too much.  Her mistakes were getting on top of her like an overdose, filling her to the brim with melancholy, and anger.

“Because we’re not friends anymore, I guess!” (y/n) exclaimed, throwing her hands up.  “I’m sorry it’s not that juicy, okay? He was just getting too irritating and nosey, and I needed some freaking space, is that so awful?”

“No, but it’s a fucking lie,” Shoko shook her head.  Her words weren’t as malicious as they sounded, but she knew she needed to start calling out bullshit when she smelled it.  And (y/n’s) bullshit was starting to pile up so high that Shoko could barely make out what was real anymore.

(y/n) huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I don’t want to fight before I go away on an assignment,” She sighed, dropping her defensive stance and leaning over the table towards her friend.  “Please, can we not fight about this?”

Shoko frowned, mirroring (y/n’s) position, and reaching for her hands.  She squeezed them gently, and she doesn’t let them go.

“I’m worried about you, (y/n/n),” She admits, quietly, like she was afraid to be vulnerable with her.  “You have to admit you’ve been acting strange, you’ve been missing from campus, like, all the time, you barely answer your phone or even give us any answers when you’re back.  I’m not trying to be nosey, really, but…” She trails off for a minute, chewing on her bottom lip.  “This isn’t like you.  And Satoru… I’ve never seen him hurt like that.  You guys treat each other better than that”

(y/n’s) throat began to sting with the familiar burn of tears, and she prays she thinks of something fast before she has to shut Shoko out the same way she did to Satoru.

“Shoko,” She mumbles, sniffling.  “I can’t explain it, okay?”

Shoko’s shoulders slump, defeated.  But she keeps a hold of (y/n’s) hands.

“I’m sorry.  I really am.  I know it’s not fair but… but you have to trust me, please”

“Are you in trouble?” Shoko asks in a whisper, even though there was no one around them to eavesdrop.  “Does this have to do with the Zen’ins?” She adds in an even quieter voice.

The way (y/n) stiffens and her eyes widen tell Shoko she’d guessed correctly.  Her own eyes blew wide with shock, the fear that had been nagging at the back of her mind finally proving to be true.

“(y/n)-”

“It’s nothing, Shoko, seriously, I’m begging you to leave it and not worry about it-”

“Not worry about it?” She hissed back at her.  “How could I not worry about it? So what is it then, you’re seeing someone? Is that it?”

(y/n) doesn’t say anything, her brain is processing all of this too slowly to figure out what the smartest lie was to go with.  If she agreed that she was dating a Zen’in, surely Shoko would go back to Satoru and Suguru with that information- and their reactions would be less than pleasant but…

What was her other option? Tell her that she was actually harboring a member of the Zen’in Clan and his sister? The children of the famed Sorcerer Killer? The very man that almost killed Satoru? Was she supposed to confess that it was practically the opposite of what she’d been thinking?

That her backup plan if all of this went south was executing the head of the clan and anyone else who tried to harm the Fushiguro children?

(y/n) pulled her hands out of Shoko’s, rubbing them down her face and taking a deep breath.  Think.  There must be a better option.  You’ve made it this far, so think!

“Shoko… you have to promise not to tell-”

“Oh my fucking spirits,” Shoko mimicked (y/n’s) position, covering her face in her hands and shaking her head.  Don’t tell me that it’s fucking true”

(y/n) doesn’t say anything, she didn’t know what to say, but it seemed she was out of time to come up with a better lie than a secret affair with a Zen’in.  

Which left a pretty nasty taste in her mouth.

Shoko gasped, one of her hands falling over her open mouth, completely floored by this information.

Sure, when (y/n) first started sneaking off, she thought maybe she was hooking up with someone, flirting with a cute guy at a cafe or a bookstore, and she would have been totally fine with a secret like that.  It would have been cute, and fun.

“I want to throw up” Shoko grumbles.

“Okay, that’s a little-”

“If you say it’s overdramatic, I don’t want to hear it.  I mean- I mean… seriously? Who is it anyways? Wait- no, don’t tell me, I don’t even want to know because then Satoru is gonna ask and he’s… oh my god, that’s what happened isn’t it?”

She hadn’t even blinked yet.  The pit in (y/n’s) stomach continued to grow, and Shoko’s shock only worsened.

In a small movement, (y/n) nodded her head.

Shoko’s silent for a minute, before she shuffles into her pocket for her cigarettes and a lighter.  She remained silent and staring off at nothing as she sparked up and took an exaggeratedly long drag.  (y/n) eyed the cigarette longingly, and Shoko passed it over after flicking the ash.

“He was pissed, huh?” She asks.

(y/n) nods again.

“Yeah… yeah he was pissed,” She says, avoiding the parts that were actually lies.  After taking her puff, she continues.  “And I… I didn’t handle it well.  I think I… I know I really hurt him, Shoko”

“You did,” Shoko sighs, recalling the way a hollow eyed Satoru had joined her for lunch yesterday.  “I just… why didn’t you tell us sooner? Maybe we.. maybe we could have talked more..?” She’s making weak suggestions, knowing there was nothing to be done of it now.

(y/n) shrugs limply, taking another drag before passing the cigarette back.

“You hate me?” She asks quietly.

Shoko gives a wobbly smile, shaking her head.

“I could never hate you, (y/n/n)” She sighs heavily.

(y/n) mirrors her weak smile.

“Thanks, Shoko,”

The short haired girl nodded back at her.

“I’m really sorry” She adds as an afterthought, but it’s genuine.

She knows she’ll continue to feel sorry for a long time.  Maybe even forever.  The guilt on her shoulders had become so heavy she slouched in her seat.  It spread through her whole body, making her sick to her stomach, her knees weak, and she’d even noticed her hands trembling.

Shoko didn’t deserve this.  She thought she was getting closure, she thought she was finally understanding what (y/n) had been up to.  Even if she was unsettled by the so-called confession, it was something.  And it was still just a lie.

“I know” Shoko replies softly, stumping out the dead cigarette.

When she gets up and leaves, (y/n) watches her pull out and light up another one on her walk back to her dorm.

(y/n) hung her head in her hands in her lonesome, fighting the urge to break down into tears.  She wished that she could tell them all to hold on for just a little while longer.

Just a little longer, she scoffs to herself, her throat burning.  How much longer was just a little longer going to be?

And on top of it all- now she had another lie to maintain.  It was pitiful, but at least Shoko was so disgusted in her that she didn’t ask anymore questions. ___

(y/n) really should have cleared her mind better before going to Brazil.  Taking on major assignments while in a negative headspace wasn’t safe, and it was one of the first things you’re taught when you enroll in Jujutsu High.

(y/n’s) headspace had become a toxic wasteland.

All of her time before she actually arrived in Manaus was spent in her head, diving deeper and deeper into the pits of despair.  She knew she wasn’t doing herself any favors, but once it had started, she couldn’t distract herself from it.

Normally she would turn to her friends to distract her from a bad bout of anxiety.  A smoke break and a walk with Shoko, a movie night with Suguru, a trip to the candy shop with Satoru, any of those things right now could have easily relaxed her nerves and brought her out of her tormented mind.  This realization only worsened her mood.

She overthought every terrible lie she’d told her friends while on the ride to the airport.  While waiting at the gate, she worried about Megumi and Tsumiki being alone while she is not reachable by phone when on the plane.  And the flight was the worst of all.  Even with connecting flights it took up her entire day.  That gave her twenty-four hours to assume the worst was happening.  No in-flight movie, no music, no book could distract her mind and give her even a minute of peace.

But when was the last time she felt any peace, anyways.

When she finally did land in Brazil and got settled in the hotel she’d been set up at- which was probably the nicest hotel she’d ever been sent to on an overseas mission, compliments of Yaga taking pity on her, surely- she couldn’t settle in.

She’d been told to get rest after her day of travel, brush up on the notes of the Grade Two she’d be on the hunt for, but to leave that hunt until the next day.  Yaga had told her clearly the morning she left that her rest was a requirement, and not to jump into the assignment on little to no sleep after an extremely long day.

Of course, as soon as she’d dropped her bag onto the queen sized bed, she realized there was no way she could get a wink of sleep with her sour mood.  She’d certainly lie awake in bed all night, letting it worsen until her entire body ached.

Her eyes landed on the harness that held her swords.  They sat in their sheaths, perfectly cleaned and sharpened from the day before, waiting to slay something.  She’d barely touched them since the Star Plasma Vessel incident, and with all the despair inside her, she knew that a quick rage on a Grade Two would be cathartic.

Cracking a smile, she grabbed the harness and snapped it on before taking off out of the hotel room, eager for the hunt and the release of pent up distress.

Maybe I’ll have to thank Yaga after all, she thought to herself as she took to the streets of Manaus.  Maybe this assignment would be exactly what I need. ___

By the time (y/n) returns to her hotel, she’d decided against thanking her teacher.  It wouldn’t be a priority when she gets home.

She’d exorcized the Grade Two Curse, and while it hadn’t been an impossible task, it had been greatly difficult, and with her standing as a Grade One Sorcerer, it was humiliating to realize how far she’d fallen behind in her training.  But after putting up a good fight, it finally showed it’s weakness and (y/n) dove for it instantly, slicing it’s head clean off with large swings of both of her blades.

She’s still straining to catch her breath even now as she washes the blood from her arms, before stripping off her ruined uniform.  She’d have to change before she headed out again.

Now that the assignment was over, she couldn’t stand to delay her return to Tokyo even one minute longer.  She was set on washing up, packing what little things she had, and heading straight back to the airport.

Her booked flight wasn’t for two more days, as Yaga had given her extra time to travel and explore.  But she was already far ahead of schedule, and she found no excitement in spending time in another country when there were people back home waiting for her.

If I’m able to get on a flight tonight, I’ll make it home by this time tomorrow, she thought to herself, scrolling through the options on her phone, ignoring the hefty prices under each one.  A last minute flight wasn’t ideal, but she’d trade in the ticket she had and save what she could.

Now that her distraction of an assignment was done, her sickeningly anxious thoughts were starting to slip into her mind again.

She made great haste in getting herself to the airport, contacting the manager on duty for her assignment to let them know she was wrapped up, and would be on the first flight to Tokyo. ___

By the time (y/n) gets back to Tokyo, it had been three days.

But while she hadn’t slept longer than a few minutes here and there on the excruciatingly long flights, when she landed back home it was a straight shot for her to go to the Fushiguro house.  She couldn’t possibly make a pitstop to the school to drop her things off- or even take a shower.

It was late into the evening, around the time she would normally put the kids to bed, but she had a feeling they’d be awake, seeing as it wasn’t a day she’d normally visit them.  And to her delight, as she approached the house, she could see the flickering of a tv through the living room window.

When she knocks on the door, she sees two heads spin around over the back of the sofa through the window, at first cautious, but then excited as both kids leapt off their seats to greet her.

Tsumiki throws her arms around (y/n) as soon as the door opens, and the older girl drops to her knees to hug her properly.  Maybe she squeezes a little tighter than she normally would.

Megumi bashfully hangs behind his sister, but the wide smile on his face tells (y/n) he was just as happy about her return as she was.  She ruffles up his hair just because she can, and tells them both how happy she is to be back.

“Was it awesome?” Tsumiki asks.

“Did you exorcize the curse?” Megumi talks over her.

“Head up to bed and I’ll tell you all about it” (y/n) orders, and neither of them seem bothered as they turn off the tv and scramble up the stairs to get ready for bed.

(y/n) lets herself take a moment to sigh and revel in the utter relief to see them both okay.  She’d been convincing herself they must have been fine, since Megumi never used his emergency Cursed Tool, and none of the texts she received from Tsumiki were out of the ordinary.  But nothing would satisfy her nerves until she could see them in person, and assess for herself that they hadn’t been in any harm.

When she ascends the stairs, they’re already waiting for her, with their teeth brushed and their pajamas on.  She grins ear to ear.

“If only you were this good for me all the time,” She teases.  “Maybe I should take assignments more often, huh?”

“We’re always good” Megumi rolls his eyes.

He’s still smiling.

“I suppose that’s true,” (y/n) muses.  “And guess what good kids get?”

“Candy?” Tsumiki asks hopefully.

(y/n) laughs as she reaches into her pocket, pulling out the two small items she’d managed to snag from a shop at the airport.

“Better!” She exclaims, handing a gift to each one of them.  “Gifts!”

Tsumiki squeals as she eyes the pretty bow she’d received.  A large, puffy pink accessory, complete with lace edges and shiny pearls at it’s center.

And when Megumi is handed his gift, a small keychain of a fluffy black dog with starry, anime-like eyes, his mouth makes an ‘o’ and his eyes light up with recognition.

“Just like my Divine Dog” He says as his mouth stretches back into a smile.

“That was the idea,” (y/n) chuckles.  “Sorry they’re small, I didn’t have a lot of shopping time”

“I love it!” Tsumiki grins, holding her accessory to her chest with adoration.

“Thank you” Megumi’s voice is softer as he clutches his own gift carefully.

“You’re very welcome,” (y/n) replies.  “Now you guys head off to bed, because I want to get home to go to bed.  I’ll tell you all about my trip when I come by tomorrow afternoon” She lets out a tired sigh, and the Fushiguro kids follow the instruction.

She bids Tsumiki goodnight first, shutting her door after the girl crawled into her sheets.  When she turns to Megumi’s room, he’s still wide awake, sitting upright on the side of his bed.  He’s still holding his keychain in his lap, admiring it with bright eyes.

“You ready for bed?” (y/n) asks him, leaning against his door frame.

He looks up at her, blinking, before stating the obvious.

“You look tired”

(y/n) chuckles, almost bitterly.  Tired was an understatement.

“A flight from here to Brazil takes an entire day, you know” She tells him, walking into his room.

Megumi crawls into bed and under the covers, giving her the seat on the edge of his bed.  She plops into it with a huff, the simple action of sitting providing a ridiculous amount of relief to her overworked body.

“A whole day?” Megumi repeats in awe.

“Sure does,” (y/n) sighs.  “And on top of that, swords are pretty heavy, and I’m out there alone trying to exorcize this huge curse!”

His eyes light up with excitement, wanting to hear more about her mission.  But (y/n) tucks him in as she always does before she leaves him for the night, and he knows she’s not going to tell him more tonight.

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you everything you want to know about it tomorrow” She says with a smile, knowing he was on the edge of his seat.

“Fine,” Megumi huffs, and then quietly adds, “Can we get pizza?”

(y/n) laughs, but nods her head in agreement.

“Pizza sounds perfect,” She says, earning a smile from the boy.  She hesitates before leaving just yet, wanting to relish a little more in seeing him perfectly unharmed.

He had no idea how much she worried about him when she was away.  The feeling must be reaching what a mother feels for her own children, an overwhelming need to protect them, no matter what it costs.

Suguru’s menacing words rang in her mind.

This secret of yours, is it worth your life?

After telling Megumi goodnight and wishing him sweet dreams, she’d finally come up with an answer for him.

Yes.

And if I had the chance to do it again, I would.

Tiptoeing down the stairs, (y/n) did a quick lap of the house, making sure there were no chores in desperate need of her attention before she left for the night.  Even though her bones begged her to rest, she wanted to make sure everything was in order after a few days of being absent.  To her pleasure, the house seemed perfectly clean and tidy.

She’d have to treat Tsumiki to more than just a bow, she mused to herself, heading for the pile of mail on the kitchen table.  All she’d do tonight was sort through the junk and the bills, which she’d worry about paying tomorrow.

After tossing the unnecessary mail in the trash and sliding the water bill into the drawer for important papers, that left only one envelope.  It was blank on the front, which puzzled her, wondering how it had gotten mixed into the rest of the lot.  Or how it had even been mailed in the first place  Turning it over curiously, her heart dropped at the only marking on the whole envelope.

A wax seal she recognized instantly.

Her blood ran cold, and her fingers went rigid in their hold on the letter.

The unmistakable seal of the Zen’in Clan.

___

a/n: long chapter of sadness hahahahaha i don’t remember how to sleep.

taglist: @whats-humanity-lol @malinq-ashida @mor-pheus@bekahtaylorgriggs@pookiea@megumimind@thealchemical@pearlstiare@niallerhere@96jnie @purpleguk @peqch-pie@yukinemaroop@makis-girl @sadtoru​ @kamikokii​ @nerdiel-has-no-braincells​ @googlesheetshoe​ @vzleria @hilzup @cole-silas @iam-mia9 @stxrrielle @ezrahour

xoxo ~ jordie 

[edenmemes]

asoiaf: sword of storms starters

❝ why would the stars want to look down on one such as me? ❞ ❝ sometimes i think everyone is just pretending to be brave, and none of us really are. maybe pretending is how you get brave. ❞ ❝ come, curse me or kiss me or call me a liar. something. ❞ ❝ some battles are not won with swords and spears, others with quills and ravens. ❞ ❝ old stories are like old friends. you have to visit them from time to time. ❞ ❝ still, night falls for all of us in the end, and too soon for some. ❞ ❝ and i tell you truly, there is no man in all the world who will ever be half so true to you as me. ❞ ❝ there are fights no swords can win. ❞ ❝ nothing will happen to you. nothing. i could not stand it. ❞ ❝ in such troubled times, it is hard to know friend from foe. ❞ ❝ you hide behind courtesy as if it were a castle wall. ❞ ❝ why do i enrage you so? i’ve never done you harm that i know of. ❞ ❝ it seems to me that a ruler who trusts no one is as foolish as a ruler who trusts everyone. ❞ ❝ love’s not always wise, i’ve learned. it can lead us to great folly, but we follow our hearts...wherever they take us. ❞ ❝ only lies offend me, never honest counsel. ❞ ❝ it was never my wish to sow enmity between us. ❞ ❝ best you were taken to your bed for a long resting, until you are stronger. ❞ ❝ even brave men blind themselves sometimes, when they are afraid to see. ❞ ❝ no harm will come to you, you have my word on that. ❞ ❝ the worst is behind us. don’t be frightened. ❞ ❝ silence. have you forgotten who i am? ❞ ❝ there is something we must speak of. will you walk with me? ❞ ❝ you shall rise again, i am sure. a man like you. ❞ ❝ i am not a cruel man. you know me. ❞ ❝ the world grows a little darker every day. ❞ ❝ i have need of good counsel, and you never gave me less. ❞ ❝ you are a treacherous old rogue, but a good friend all the same. ❞ ❝ madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. ❞ ❝ if you love me all so much, why are you still dressed? ❞ ❝ you’re mine. mine, as i’m yours. ❞ ❝ wars need not be fought until the last drop of blood. ❞ ❝ one voice may speak you false, but in many there is always truth to be found. ❞ ❝ when it comes to battle, discipline beats valour every time. ❞ ❝ sometimes the best thing you can do is nothing. ❞ ❝ it is too late for ifs, and too late for rescues. all that remains is vengeance. ❞ ❝ only blood can pay for blood. ❞ ❝ why do you hesitate? kill him, and be done. ❞ ❝ i will fall into those eyes and drown. ❞ ❝ harsh justice is still justice. ❞ ❝ i am cleverer than most, surely wits count for something. ❞ ❝ there’s a storm coming. a bad one. ❞ ❝ men will read all sorts of things into a knowing smile if you let them. ❞ ❝ the greatest fools are ofttimes more clever than the men who laugh at them. ❞ ❝ all these kings would do a deal better if they would put down their swords and listen to their mothers. ❞ ❝ you were made to be kissed, often and well. ❞ ❝ i walk alone with no true companion but tears. ❞ ❝ there is a savage beast in every man, and when you hand that man a sword or spear and send him forth to war, the beast stirs. ❞ ❝ there are fights no swords can win. ❞ ❝ here you are my guest, and safe from harm at my hands...this night, at least. ❞ ❝ i love the smell of you. i love your hair. i love your mouth, and the way you kiss me. ❞ ❝ i am alive, and drunk on sunlight. ❞ ❝ we look up at the same stars and see such different things. ❞ ❝ let them kill me. so long as i die fighting, a blade in hand. ❞ ❝ they are still behind us. they are taking us one by one. ❞ ❝ cry if you must. in your place, i would likely rip my hair out. ❞ ❝ would you wake me, please? i’m having this terrible nightmare. ❞ ❝ i know what it is like to love so greatly you can think of nothing else. ❞ ❝ if truth be told, i’m bored with your company. ❞ ❝ i am tired of fighting you. what say we make a truce? ❞ ❝ no man grows rich by kindness. ❞ ❝ it is well you did not lie to me. i would have known. ❞ ❝ the blood of my enemies i will shed gladly. the blood of innocents is another matter. ❞ ❝ i do not know who you are, and it may be that’s for the best. someone important, i fear. ❞ ❝ is every word you say a lie? ❞ ❝ why should i tell you my name? you haven’t told me yours. ❞ ❝ you are weak as a child, and no warrior. ❞ ❝ if i look back i am lost. ❞ ❝ if you lie to me, i will have your tongue. ❞ ❝ you’ve grown more amusing since last we met. ❞ ❝ i wonder if i might have a few private words? ❞ ❝ i dreamed a dream, no more. go back to sleep. ❞ ❝ this is a bad place, is it not? a dark place, and foul. ❞ ❝ i did not intend to give offence. forgive me. ❞ ❝ you have never feared to speak the truth, why do you lie to yourself? ❞ ❝ the music’s still playing. might i have this dance? ❞ ❝ your eyes give the lie to your tongue. ❞ ❝ let me go now. for our friendship, wish me luck and let me go ❞ ❝ a wise man never makes an enemy of a king. ❞ ❝ this must be our last time together. the danger is too great. ❞ ❝ some day try thinking before you speak. ❞ ❝ i have a dragon’s temper, that’s all. you must not let it frighten you. ❞ ❝ you must not be saying such things, even in jest. ❞ ❝ what we want is not always what we get. ❞ ❝ put up that sword now, unless you want to be hurt. ❞ ❝ sometimes a man knows more than he says. ❞ ❝ when i don’t fancy a man’s eyes, i put an arrow through one. ❞ ❝ my heart is full of doubts. ❞ ❝ in times like this, we must make do as best we can. ❞ ❝ i never dreamed how quick the sweet would turn to sour. ❞ ❝ my skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. ❞ ❝ the stink of death is fresh on you. ❞ ❝ you have repaid betrayal with betrayal, let it end. ❞ ❝ the higher the man climbs the farther he has to fall. ❞ ❝ i was hoping one look at this sweet face of mine would be enough to persuade you all of my innocence. ❞ ❝ after all the storms we’ve suffered, you should trust me better. ❞ ❝ you can kill your enemies, but can you rule your friends? ❞ ❝ could there be honor in a lie, if it were told for a good purpose? ❞ ❝ i am the monster they all say i am. ❞ ❝ pray excuse me, i need to hit someone very hard with a sword. ❞ ❝ you did your best to kill me. perhaps i ought to return the favor. ❞ ❝ you do, don’t you? you take me for a fool. ❞ ❝ we’re all just songs in the end, if we’re lucky. ❞ ❝ there is a long league’s worth of difference between wilful and stupid. ❞ ❝ you...a man like you brings blood with him. ❞ ❝ when did i make so many enemies? ❞ ❝ i must be strong. if i despair, my grief will consume me. ❞ ❝ give me sweet lies, and keep your bitter truths. ❞ ❝ i know what it is to be betrayed by men you trusted. ❞ ❝ all my victories turn to dross in my hands. ❞ ❝ it is a pleasure to look on you again, even in such trying times. ❞ ❝ are you scared? have you lost your belly for fighting? ❞ ❝ you were so long, i feared something had gone amiss. ❞ ❝ any man who must say ‘i am king’ is no true king at all. ❞ ❝ always keep your foes confused. if they are never certain who you are or what you want, they cannot know what you are like to do next. ❞ ❝ small men curse what they cannot understand. ❞ ❝ if you’re lying to me again, you won’t be leaving here alive. ❞ ❝ it all goes back and back to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. we are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us. ❞ ❝ when you know what a man wants you know who he is, and how to move him. ❞ ❝ a pure world. i do not belong here. ❞ ❝ you make me sorry that i am not the monster you would have me be. ❞ ❝ i crossed a thousand leagues to come to you, and lost the best part of me along the way. don't tell me to leave. ❞ ❝ my big mouth will be the death of me, i swear it. ❞ ❝ we have suffered much, and there is more peril and more grief ahead. ❞ ❝ i...i suppose i earned that. ❞ ❝ begging for help never gets you any. ❞ ❝ you’re not made to lie. you blush and squeak and stammer. ❞ ❝ one day you must tell me all. the good and the bad. ❞ ❝ and there is stands, miserable as it is. my ancestral home. ❞ ❝ whatever i do, all i make is death and horror. ❞ ❝ it is safer to walk in darkness here. there are things you would not wish to see. ❞ ❝ you have a certain cunning, but the plain truth is you talk too much. ❞ ❝ that might have hurt me once, when i still felt pain. ❞ ❝ we will fight a battle, and then we will rest. alive or dead, we'll rest. ❞ ❝ every man must die. but first he must live. ❞ ❝ all night i have been making songs for you in my head. ❞ ❝ my blood, my body, my songs, you own them all. ❞ ❝ if you lie i’ll punch your face. ❞ ❝ what a fight that was, and what a foe. ❞ ❝ be quiet. i will tell you when you can speak. ❞ ❝ forgive me. you have to forgive me. ❞ ❝ never lie to me. never betray me. ❞ ❝ there are two sorts of people. the players and the pieces. ❞ ❝ the only thing i value less than my life right now is yours. ❞ ❝ perhaps i should leave you here to rot if you’re going to be so discourteous. ❞ ❝ i hadn’t forgotten, though i hoped you had. ❞ ❝ i can still bite and kick. i’ll die with the taste of blood in my mouth, that’s something. ❞ ❝ you bray like an ass, and make no more sense. ❞ ❝ you do not belong here. this is not your place. ❞ ❝ i’m not going back to sleep. my head is all a tumult. ❞ ❝ some doors are best left closed. ❞ ❝ it does not matter how brave or brilliant a man is, if his commands cannot be heard. ❞ ❝ a man who fears battle wins no victories. ❞ ❝ you’re not half bad with a sword, but you’re not good enough to take on two hundred men by yourself. ❞ ❝ that is a good color on you. it goes well with your eyes. ❞ ❝ if blood is what you wish, then let it flow. ❞ ❝ i liked you well enough...but i never trusted you. a man needs to earn my trust. ❞ ❝ it is good to see you know who i am. ❞ ❝ i have told you no lies. yet there have been truths i have withheld. ❞ ❝ pardon me if i do not weep for you. ❞ ❝ you’ll find nothing here but death. ❞ ❝ don’t...don’t talk like this. you’re scaring me. ❞ ❝ you must be very brave or very stupid. ❞ ❝ i gave you the truth. you owe me the same. ❞ ❝ that loose tongue of yours will be your undoing. ❞ ❝ i must have fire in my eyes when i face them, not tears. ❞ ❝ it will take more than an arrow to kill you. ❞ ❝ the sound’s inside, it’s in here with us, and it’s getting louder. ❞ ❝ see? we know each other too well. ❞ ❝ you meddle in matters you do not understand. ❞ ❝ i have no luck. i have never had any bloody luck. ❞ ❝ do all gods feel so lonely? ❞ ❝ you are strangely quiet. how do you feel, i wonder? ❞ ❝ stop trying to think up ways to kill me. none of it will do you any bit of good. ❞ ❝ all you need to do is take my hand, come on. ❞ ❝ we’re together, just as you’ve always wanted, just as we’ve always planned. ❞ ❝ wars are won with quills and ravens. ❞ ❝ if only i had my sword, nothing could harm me. ❞ ❝ a valiant deed unsung is no less valiant. ❞ ❝ there are wolves in these woods, and worse things. ❞ ❝ say nothing of what we’ve discussed here today. to anyone. ❞ ❝ you’d best go. you’re making me angry. ❞ ❝ fear cuts deeper than swords. ❞ ❝ an ill-omened name. i have asked you not to use it. ❞ ❝ you cannot hide from me. come closer, now. ❞ ❝ there’s no cause for all these tears. ❞ ❝ it is good that you have woken, but you must give yourself time to heal. ❞ ❝ there is no honor in hiding and sneaking. ❞ ❝ come with me. we have to get away from here, and now. ❞ ❝ kings are falling like leaves this autumn. ❞ ❝ you don’t know half as much as you think you do. ❞ ❝ you seem so sombre. is aught amiss? ❞

[bimbosandbubbles]

Warning’s—masturbation,scent kink,breeding kink(vague),cumming desperate Denji,

Pervert Denji! Who’s obsessed with little chubby you! All because you stumbled into him on a silly walk. And omg! He’s never felt anything so soft,so welcoming and warm pressed against his thin lanky frame. The moment you make contact with him,he internally groans at the utter softness you exude. He doesn’t even know you yet and he’s already imagining gripping the excess flesh that surrounds your frame. When he hears your flustered apology,his cock practically stretches the poor fabric of his black slacks.

! “Oh my god,I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Denji doesn’t know what to focus on. Your pretty lips forming in a shocked worried little O shape or your sweet voice worrying about him. He forces out a response and he’s blushing so hard just from looking at you. Your sweet voice graces him some more as you continually apologize and talk to him. He swears it’s okay,that you could never do anything to harm him. The conversation goes so long that he manages to get your number and he takes that to his full advantage.

Pervert Denji! Who constantly calls you whenever he’s having a bad day or..when he can’t get off just from imagining you anymore. He can just cum from the way you say his name so sleepily and so caring. “I can’t sleep,can you talk to me until I do?” You oblige him happily and instantly purge into rambles and rants. Each word helps each stroke—each urging pulse thats surging through his aching dick. He hums uh huhs or mmms,anything to distract you from the whimpers and groans he’s producing. You always sound so good—so sweet and loving. He can imagine your voice hitching as he’s suckling on your chest or even better drowning between your supple thighs.

Pervert Denji! Who begs you for every single picture of yourself to send to him. From your outfits to not the candid moments he loves it all! Seeing your chubby face adorning smiles or funny expressions just makes his heart warm. But it’s not that innocent,it never is with Denji. Seeing your kind little face makes him crazy. He wants to make you do so many expressions! Like he wants to see his cock shape your mouth back into that pretty little O shape. He wants to make your eyebrows scrunch—twisting in painful ecstasy because his greedy mouth latched onto your poor clit. But his favorite would be your teeth biting on the lower flesh of your lips—muffling all the sweet noises he’s causing!

! He can just hear your pleas now. “N—No ‘ore ‘Enji! s’too much! or “It feels too good! Can’t take it anymore. You’re making me ‘eel so good!” or “S’good Denji,making me feel s’good! Thank you!” All those pretty words leaving your mouth when he has his dick sunken into you. He really wants you to tell him he’s doing a good job!

Pervert Denji! That can’t stop thinking about you so he stalks all your online pages. Insta,TikTok,whatever. It doesn’t matter if you post or not but if you do he’s waiting to be the first to see it. You’re just so so pretty to him! How can he not want to see that beautiful face first? But it’s not only your face that he loves,it’s your body too! You just have so much supple flesh that he wants to grab and grip,kiss and suck,squeeze and pinch—anything as long as he gets to touch your plush form. Although he loves your body as a whole he just can’t get over your stomach and boobs.

! It doesn’t matter if your boobs are small or big! He loves the way the natural weight of them slightly drooping down your chest! Because it points down to your palpable tummy! He loves imagining sucking on your perky nipples—lengthy hand rubbing and gripping the soft skin of your stomach—the perfect combo! He just wants to suck on your perfect tits—lay on you and just take his frustrations or comforts onto you while he’s sucking on your chest,often indulging with the sweet thought of you playing with his hair and telling him affirmations.

Pervert Denji! That gets off on your scent! Especially when you’re sweaty or extremely hot. The natural scent of you is just so..erotic to him. Like some desperate hound who’s chasing a delicious scent Denji will get extra close to you—hugging you with more want when your sweaty,rubbing his nose on whatever he can reach to smell you. He loves that smell because it’s just simply nature—he can only imagine what your sweaty pussy would smell like. Especially if it’s hairy,he wants that sweat smell to carry onto your mound. He just wants you to let him nudge his nose in between your folds and inhale that arousing aroma.

Pervert Denji ! That always finds himself with his thin hand wrapped around the slender base of his cock,pumping up and down to you. “(Reader) ‘anna fuck you! Wanna be in your pretty pussy! Need you ‘o bad!”

! Babbles after babbles always bounce off the walls of his room. He just knows you’d feel so good! He imagines that you sweet cunt will feel so warm and soft and fuck—wet! The poor man that overstimulates his throbbing cock—liquidy and runny cum coating his smart fingers—just cause the thought of you riles him up so easily. He wants to cum in you—over and over again. Wants to see you covered filthy with his seed.

Poor Pervert Denji ! Who just wants to make you his girlfriend! Denji that wants to please you in every single way the word could be used. Denji that can’t control his urges just because he wants you so so so bad.:(

[jessamine-rose]

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Ghost Heart ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Long before A Winter Night’s Lazzo, I was already down bad for a certain Harbinger. This idea for Yandere! Scaramouche/ Wanderer randomly manifested at 1:00 a.m. and, like a fool, I decided to write it. It is my sincere wish that you all cry over enjoy this fic (*´ω`*)

Tw:: yandere, manipulation, mention of death and kidnapping, 3.3 spoilers

♡ 3k words under the cut ♡

“You’re still here.”

There is nothing grand about this specific Desert House. The rental space is sparsely furnished, fit for a party of two. Everything is the way Scaramouche had left it—an unmade bed, a small suitcase, a set of chains reduced to solitary links.

A vintage tea set sits on the table. One cup is filled with tea, a bitter blend judging by the scent. The other cup is empty.

The Wanderer crosses the threshold and approaches the ghost on the floor.

Not a ghost. His beloved.

Somehow, your countenance has dimmed since his departure. Dried tears and dark eye circles decorate your face. Your gaze is blank, lifeless, akin to that of a doll.

“Why…why are you here?” He raises his voice, unable to hide his disbelief.

His chest feels heavy. Though no organ beats within, the concept of heartache comes to mind. Behind him, a strong gust of wind assails the forest and slams the door shut.

Your response is a confused frown.

“Do I know you?”

You’ve forgotten him.

The revelation stings despite his preconceived knowledge. In his defense, the Wanderer hadn’t intended a lover’s reunion. He only returned to this place to reminisce, to confirm your freedom, to see if he could settle for any memento of you.

So what prevented you from leaving?

It was your prisoner, Scaramouche, who destroyed your chains prior to the erasure of his existence. His current self is the last person whom you should be crossing paths with.

The Wanderer only offers a false smile.

“I’m just another person passing through,” he says lightly. He introduces himself with his new name suggested by the Traveler.

“I see…” You repeat his name to yourself. Similar to his previous monikers, it has never sounded more lovely in your voice.

Nor so innocent. Fear, hatred, sorrow, pity, joy, fondness—all of those familiar sentiments are lost in your tone.

It is difficult to maintain his composure. “You haven’t answered my question. What are you doing in this house? Nothing about you screams ‘happy tourist.’”

“I don’t know.”

The answer comes out in a whisper. After a few seconds of silence, you finally stand up and make proper eye contact with him.

“My name is ______,” you tell him. “Please excuse my appearance; nobody has visited this place before. I’m aware that I look like a wreck.”

“That is an understatement,” he replies matter-of-factly. “I nearly mistook you for a ghost. So why don’t you explain your circumstances before I consider sending you to Bimarstan?”

“...All right.” Looking away, you take a seat at the table.

The Wanderer joins you.

You fill his teacup. “Are you sure that you’d like to hear my story? This is hard to explain, and it might take a while.”

He crosses his arms. “I have all day.”

“Okay. Would you like some desserts? The kitchen is fully stocked; I know what pairs best with Misty Garden.”

“No thanks, I’m not fond of sweets.”

How long ago was your last tea ceremony? Not even your defiant moods produced this amount of tension. Or is this merely the distance between two strangers?

“There is something wrong with my memories,” you tell him.

He frowns at you. “What do you mean by that?”

Something wrong? Did Irminsul not purge him from your memories?

“What I’m saying is that I have little to no recollection of how I ended up here.”

Your mannerisms are the same. He never thought that the mundane act of passing a teacup would feel so nostalgic.

You continue speaking. “I have vivid memories of my early life. I had a family, friends, a peaceful home. But everything after that is static and fragmented. It’s like I forgot everything between then and now.”

He grips his cup. “So what is your first faulty memory?”

“I see flashes of red and violet," you tell him, “along with a human face. I can’t remember the details but I know it belonged to a beautiful person. Then I look down and there are snacks, tea sets, wrapped gifts all prepared by my own hands. I get the feeling that I was extremely happy, happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

The beginning of your courtship.

You were such a cute, interesting civilian back in those days. Always shyly greeting him, offering heartfelt gifts, inviting him to your home for tea. Despite being above such human needs, Scaramouche found himself endeared by your efforts.

From the moment he met you, his chest began to feel less hollow.

A dreamy sigh. “I’m pretty sure that I’d fallen in love with somebody.”

“How romantic,” he says sarcastically, glancing at his reflection in the teacup. “And you have no memory, at all, of your presumed lover?”

“Yes,” you reply sadly. “It was a short period of my life, one which lasted…months? It’s all so blurry, and I wish I could say the same for what happened next.”

A dark look passes over your face. But this time, your animosity isn’t directed at him.

“One day, the Fatui burned down my village. Don’t ask me why; all I know is that I was separated from my family then kept as a prisoner. I never saw them again.”

“What else do you remember from that period of your life?”

You look around the house. “I didn’t have an ordinary prison. It was a pretty place, a fancy house in Snezhnaya. I can see myself staring out the window, roaming the halls, crying myself to sleep. I usually felt scared, depressed, happy once in a while…but never alone.”

Your shared home.

He wonders if that ostentatious manor still stands. It was the stage for several quarrels, punishments, breakdowns, tense meals, intimate nights, cuddle sessions after his nightmares. An ersatz home which owed its warmth to your company.

The tea tastes perfectly bitter.

“Is that all?” he asks. “Did you spend all your days in that prison?”

Your cup shakes in your hands.

“There were visits. From a masked man who called himself the Doctor. Once, I was brought to his laboratory and he…he operated on me; he said it was to keep me alive. Would you find me crazy if I told you that I’ve lived for decades? It feels—no, I know it’s been that long.”

Dottore.

His sole glimmer of relief is Dottore’s mercy on you. Even without knowing the truth of Niwa’s death, Scaramouche was paranoid throughout your operation. The time spent waiting for you to wake up had felt like an eternity.

“I wouldn’t put it past the Fatui to curse a person with immortality,” he grimaces.

You give him an odd look. Suspecting his investment in your story, perhaps. That is new; you always saw the best in everyone, including him.

You take another sip of tea. “That’s all I can say about my time with the Fatui. One day, not too long ago, they brought me to Inazuma. Followed by Sumeru.”

Your final moments together.

Those days are still fresh in his memory. After the Electro Gnosis was acquired, the two of you quickly left Inazuma. Then Scaramouche confined you to this wretched house, splitting his time between this place and the Akademiya.

That time, he was purely focused on his godly ascension. He was so foolish to think that his lifelong dream was at his fingertips when you were already in his arms.

He grits his teeth. “And what happened here?”

You shrug. “I know for sure that I wasn’t a happy tourist, because I don’t remember any other part of Sumeru. Do you see those broken chains? Those were used to shackle me.”

There is a scar on your ankle. The sight triggers a fresh stab of guilt.

“It went by so quickly,” you whisper, “but I wasn’t lonely at all. I can hear conversations between me and a voice, but I can’t decipher any of the words. Next, I’m looking at my legs and the chains are off. Then I…I can’t remember!”

Even the Wanderer fails to predict the shift in your demeanor. You bang your cup on the table, spilling tea all over the wooden surface, and burst into tears.

“I don’t know what happened after!” you wail. “I can’t sense anything, just this strong feeling of dread. Then after retracing my steps, that’s when I realize how empty I feel. Something is missing—it feels so wrong.”

His departure.

If the Wanderer were to identify his deepest regret, it would be his last memory of you. He was so blindsided by his grief, desperate to return the lives he had stolen from his loved ones. From you.

It was laughable, really. He remembers breaking the chains and shaking you off him. Yet after everything he’d put you through, it was you who stayed inside and insisted that he rethink his decision. Be it out of forgiveness or vengeance, he still hasn’t figured it out.

Tea drips onto the table. The Wanderer didn’t notice that his own hand was shaking.

Fate truly finds delight in playing cruel tricks on its prisoners.

He takes a proper look at you. You’ve always been an emotional creature, a slave to human fragility. But not even his previous acts of cruelty had driven you to such anguish.

No, he was the true fool. How could he underestimate the intricacy with which your existences were intertwined? How could he leave your fate to the arbitrary laws of this world? Instead of liberating you, he only cursed his beloved once more.

On instinct, he raises his hand to wipe your tears but catches himself at the last second.

“If these memories cause you such pain,” he says gravely, “then why bother reliving them? Is it not easier to move on and lead a new life?”

“No, I can’t.” You shake your head vigorously, a stubborn gesture he is all too acquainted with. “If I do that, how could I possibly make sense of anything?”

The Wanderer says nothing. You wipe your tears and point at the teapot.

“Isn’t this blend of tea quite bitter?”

“It is. I find that flavor superior to sweets.”

“A long time ago, I would have disagreed with you. I wasn’t fond of bitter flavors in my youth but one day, during that time of my life when I was most happy, I gained a taste for it! Nobody in my family likes bitter food so who was the one that influenced my palate?”

Your suitcase is next. When you turn it over, an assortment of clothes and ornaments spills out onto the floor.

“These items! I could never afford such luxuries, and these are all in my favorite style and color. If these were gifts, they must’ve come from someone who knew me dearly.”

The Wanderer can only remain silent as you parse through every memory preserved in the Desert House. Sticky candies purchased just for you. Handcrafted gifts which Scaramouche had nitpicked but secretly adored. Objects of hobbies which he’d viewed as idle distractions unless he was entertaining your whims.

“I have to remember!” You fall to your knees, dissolving into a fresh wave of hysteria. “How could I forget someone so important to me?!”

How unsightly.

If this was one of your old breakdowns, he could reprimand you then make quick work of tidying you up. But such tough love is reserved for Scaramouche and his beloved, not for the Wanderer and a stranger.

In his long life, you were the one person who never betrayed him. So why did he leave you first? Love, sacrifice, repentance…what he claimed to be a parting gift was only a selfish act to end his own suffering.

Instead, he crouches next to you and awkwardly pats your back. When you wrap your arms around him, he refrains from drawing you closer.

There is a long pause.

“Hey…did you tell me the truth earlier?”

“What are you talking about?”

You break off the hug, hands moving to the blue side of his tunic. A light tug exposes the deep scar on his shoulder.

“Where did you get this?” you ask softly. “It…I don’t know why but it caught my eye.”

He stiffens. “That is none of your business.”

He said the same thing when it was a fresh wound. Nonetheless, you fretted over the blemish and told him to exercise more caution during his missions. You never listened to him when he insisted that puppets could withstand more damage.

You look up, taking in every detail of the Wanderer’s stunned expression.

“You feel familiar, too. I don’t know if it’s muscle memory or a gut feeling but…” You grip his shoulders, blinking back tears. “Did anything ever happen between us?”

He could grant you a small mercy.

“Nothing worth mentioning,” he replies. He holds your wrists, mustering a glare. “It is vulgar to point out one’s imperfections in such a manner, you know.”

Your curiosity morphs into indignance. “What do you mean ‘nothing’? After everything I’ve told you, you should know that any small memory is worth everything!”

If only you knew.

Against his better judgment, his hand finds its way to your cheek.

“Really,” he mutters. “You haven’t changed at all.”

To think that even after obtaining a heart, a part of him remains empty. And what more for your journeys continuing to diverge? If he could indulge his delusions once more, he might just believe that fate is finally on his side.

Never mind if he is wrong. If one truth exists in this world, it is that you are the only part of his past worth holding on to.

“Would you like to go with me?”

“What?” You blink at him, eyes wide.

The Wanderer levels you with a serious look. “Don’t make me say it twice. If you are tormented by all these mementos, then it is common sense to leave this place.”

“But I—!”

“Staying here will not bring back your mystery companion,” he snaps. “And if your memory is so helpful, you’d know that your former dream was to explore Teyvat. I couldn’t grant that wish before, ______, but I can do it now.”

You avert your gaze. “I can believe that. But why are you…?”

He stands up, holding out his hand to you. Any perceived confidence is merely an illusion to mask his own turbulent thoughts.

“Frankly, you would be a fool to say yes,” he admits. “I have no home, no kin, no destination. But I can promise you my heart and all that it has to offer.”

What sentimental rubbish. To your credit, many of your sweet remarks were brushed off for the purpose of concealing his flustered reactions.

He isn’t blind to the hesitance in your gaze. He can see it now, the tug-of-war between doubt and hope. The trust he will need to regain.

The warmth of your hand hasn’t changed.

“I’ll go with you.” You timidly bow your head. It almost reminds him of the first time you met. “What do I have to lose?”

“I hope you understand what you’re doing,” he warns. He wipes your tears with his free hand. “If you insist on continuing down this path, then don’t blame me for what comes next.”

“Noted!” You stand up and lift your head. Your gaze is brighter, clearer this time. “I still have questions, though. Lots of them.”

His response is a dismissive wave of his hand. “Ask me anything if you want. If a question is interesting enough, I may give you an answer.”

How much should he reveal to you, he wonders? And will it be a beautiful lie or the ugly truth? He has already found the answer for himself but you are a different matter.

The Wanderer gives the house another critical glance.

“Firstly, we must pack your belongings,” he announces. “Pick the items which will be of use to us. Everything else will be left behind.”

“Wait, how can I decide on that?” you exclaim. “This is all I have!”

He gives you an unimpressed look. “Then shall I choose for you?”

The speed at which you begin packing amuses him. He supposes that the desire for power is one he can never shake off, especially after becoming human.

After reorganizing your suitcase, the two of you finish your tea. Your conversations are still lackluster in comparison to your previous tea ceremonies, but he will acknowledge your change in countenance.

He hasn’t seen that precious smile in forever. This time, he will make sure that it survives every day in your new life.

Outside, the wind has calmed to a gentle breeze. You idle at the threshold, to which your new companion flashes you an impatient look.

“It’s too late for you to back out,” he says, harsher than intended. He takes your hand, intertwining your fingers. “There is no need to be nervous.”

That is what brings you out of your reverie. “You’re right. Where do we go now?”

Where will you go? There is his current lodgings; he will need to change rooms unless you are open to sharing a bed again. Then while you’re in Sumeru, a few tourist attractions will do. You never did get to enjoy the region as a couple.

“Let’s explore this forest first,” he decides. “The scenery is absolutely breathtaking, and I know a vantage point. You are just the type of person to get easily excited by the view.”

“For someone who claims to be an unimportant acquaintance, you sure know a lot about me,” you shoot back. Your lips curve into a small smile. “...Thank you. I’ll be in your care.”

That heavy feeling returns to his chest.

“There is no need to thank me.” The Wanderer stares ahead, but the flush in his cheeks betrays his feelings. “I see little point in it.”

Honestly, had he known how burdensome a heart could be, perhaps he wouldn’t have sought one to begin with. But at this point, the consequences can only be accepted.

If this is his punishment for committing the sin of love, then he shall gladly pay the price.

♡

Before anyone asks, I have no plans to write a Scara longfic. Due to his character growth, I find it difficult to write a fic that incorporates his full story. I’m also just not interested in writing a longfic for him or other characters.

Aahh I hope y’all enjoyed this!! Scaramouche/ Wanderer is very dear to my heart and I hope I did him justice. At least he and his darling get some sort of twisted happily ever after <3

Tag a Scaramouche enjoyer!! @ddarker-dreams @after-witch @leftdestiny-posts @oofasleep @lcveaesop @harmonysanreads @dreamii-yume @cinnamonest @ladycoleigh @robindere @venranae @yhreah @scaranya @misachan1506 @themiraclouskeeper @phen0l @nimandu

[proxima-writes]

Title: crimson red paint on my lips | part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Mean Smuggler!Joel Miller/Smuggler! Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Join the tag list

Summary:

Joel Miller is an asshole.

You should have known better than to show up at his door with your lips painted red.

Author’s Note: This is a considerably darker characterization than my other Joel fics. I’d be open to writing more like it, so let me know your thoughts! I’m also open to other requests 💕

Content Warnings/Additional Tags: explicit sexual content (18+), explicit language, mean mean mean Joel Miller, considerable age gap (25F and 56M), degradation, pet names (but mean), rough oral sex (m and f receiving), spitting, choking, crying, v fingering, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, begging, did i mention MEAN???, alcohol use, no aftercare. Let me know if any are missing!

You’ve been searching for more pills in a drugstore that had been well picked over, a wall blown out with glass and rubble everywhere, when you saw the little gold tube on the ground. At first, you thought it was a bullet casing. You’d seen plenty of those before.

But picking it up and dusting it off revealed a seam on the tube and when you pulled it, the top popped off to reveal the creamy red makeup inside.

At twenty-five, you spent most of your life in a QZ, but there are some things you have a hazy memory of from better days. Your mom, sitting at her makeup vanity as a five-year-old version of you looked up at her in awe as she swiped lipstick across her lips. Glossy magazine ads where the women had their mouths painted in a rainbow of shades.

You pocket the tube and continue on, eyes scanning every crevice for missed treasure. You do manage to find one bottle of oxycodone, a pretty big score.

You hear your name being called from the front of the store and you make your way back to the exit.

Joel Miller stands amongst the rubble, arms crossed and face frozen in his permanent scowl. Just the sight of him makes your heart skip a beat, and you know it shouldn’t. He’s much too old for you and just thinks of you as some dumb kid. He told Tess as much when she argued that you should come with them.

When you’re within arms reach, he wraps his broad hand around your bicep in a punishing grip. “Been callin’ for you. You need to pay attention.”

“Was just in the back, sorry,” you reply, wincing at the pinch of his fingers. “What’s wrong?”

“FEDRA agents, we gotta clear out.” He pokes his head around the corner of the building before slamming you back against the brick with his body, his hand slapping over your mouth to cut off your sound of surprise.

The front of his body is pressed tightly to yours and you stare up at him, eyes wide with fear. Heavy booted footsteps echo nearby, the tell tale sound of overconfident FEDRA agents that play gods amongst men. Joel brings a finger to his lips, a command to be quiet even though you can’t make a sound with his broad palm over your mouth.

His forehead tilts to yours as he reigns in his own labored breaths, his eyes falling shut. You shift against him, just slightly, surprised to feel a tell tale hardness pressing into your tummy. Your heart rate kicks up even higher, and it has nothing to do with your fear.

Joel’s jaw clenches and his eyes snap open, piercing you with a stare so cold it sends a shiver down your spine.

When Joel deems the area safe again, he rips his hand from your mouth, eyes dropping briefly to your lips before he turns and stomps away without another word, not bothering to make sure you’re following.

When the two of you meet up with Tess, you hand her the bottle of oxycodone.

“Excellent job, kiddo,” she says with a smile. “See, Joel? Told you she’d be worth it.”

He only grunts in reply, eyes fixed on the ground, and you feel your shoulders drop. You don’t know why, but you’re desperate to prove to him that you’re worthy.

Of what, you’re not sure.

You decide to keep the lipstick for yourself.

________

Joel nearly wanted to strangle Tess when she showed up with you standing at her shoulder. He knew the older woman had a soft spot for taking care of you and making sure you knew how to fend for yourself, ever since you’d turned up at the QZ as a transfer from another city five years ago, twenty-years old with the same haunted stare he recognizes in himself.

But all he can think about when he sees you is getting you on your knees or pressed beneath his body, the scent of sex and sound of your moans drowning out the atrocities beyond the walls of his shitty apartment.

He breaks out the whiskey he keeps for quieting the noise in his head, slamming back two shots of it in quick succession. There’s a tentative knock at his door and he stands with a groan.

Nothing could have prepared him to find you on the other side of the door, a low cut shirt and tight ass jeans holding in your curves. But perhaps the worst part is the crimson red paint on your lips.

He reaches out and grabs you by the shoulder, yanking you inside the apartment and slamming the door. You stumble slightly, surprised at the sudden rough movement, but Joel can’t find it in him to care.

“Are you fuckin’ stupid?” He snaps.

Your mouth drops open in surprise, your eyes wide as you struggle to find words to reply. He steps closer.

“You do know there’s monsters out there, right? Worse than runners, worse than clickers,” he snaps. “And don’t think any low life FEDRA agent would come runnin’ for help if you were screamin’ for it.”

“I-I don’t…I didn’t—“

He’s toe to toe with you now, like he can’t help but be sucked into your orbit. Your eyes are watery as you blink up at him and, god help his soul, he’s dying to see those tears run down your cheeks so he can chase their salty taste with his tongue.

“You didn’t what, sweetheart? Use that fuckin’ brain in your head to make a better decision than showin’ up on my doorstep painted like a goddamn whore?”

Your hand shoots up, aiming to land a slap across his cheek, but he sees it coming. He grabs your wrist, yanking at your arm until he’s got it pinned behind your back. He forces you forward until your cheek is pressed against the discolored wallpaper.

“Let me go,” you growl, struggling beneath him. “You think I’m so goddamn stupid, then let me leave, I’ll never bother you again you fuckin’ asshole.”

Joel laughs, the sound devoid of humor. “That’s where you’re wrong, darlin’. Because you’ll still be out there, lookin’ at me with those big innocent eyes of yours, beggin’ for attention.”

Your breath hitches, and he knows he’s struck a chord. He’s not dumb, he knows you’re desperate for his attention. He sees it in the way your shoulders drop when he walks by you without acknowledging you, or doesn’t include you in the conversation he’s having with Tess.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you snap.

“Oh, honey, I’d love to,” he teases. You go still beneath you. Slowly, he releases the hold he has on you, stepping back. You turn to face him. “Get on your knees. You want my attention so goddamn bad? Show me how much.”

________

Joel Miller is an asshole. You knew this, it’s been obvious in every encounter you’ve had with the older man, but you still showed up at his door.

He’s right. You are a fucking idiot.

But like the strings holding you up have been cut, you drop heavily to your knees, staring up at him for instruction. Your heart is beating out of your chest as he stares down at you with disdain.

“Take my cock out,” he commands. You bring unsteady hands to his belt, fumbling with the buckle. Finally, you free the clasp and rush to open his fly, tugging his jeans low enough to reach in and free his length from its denim confines.

You’re surprised to find it already so hard, the thick length already an angry dark red.

“Don’t just stare at it, princess. Open your mouth,” he says, hand gripping your jaw with bruising fingers as he forces your mouth open. “Tongue out.”

You stick your tongue out and he slaps the head of his cock on it, the action so lewd your face heats with a blush. He laughs, the sound cruel but your thighs clench regardless.

“Don’t get shy on me now, baby,” he says, voice low. He slides further into your mouth and you open wider to accommodate him. “Look at those pretty red lips stretched tight around my cock.”

He begins to thrust, shallow at first, before he picks up the pace, the tip hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. He only pulls back slightly, barely enough for any relief before pressing forward again.

You can feel the tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes. Joel withdraws from your mouth completely, allowing you the brief chance to heave in desperate gulps of air. He tilts your chin up and you look up at him from under tear filled lashes.

He drags a thumb from the corner of your eye, collecting the evidence of his harsh treatment and bringing it to his lips as his eyes stay locked with yours.

“You see that, baby?” He asks, nodding to his cock gripped in his hand. “See all that red on my cock? You did that with your little whore mouth.”

You can’t help the tiny whimper that claws its way out of your throat. He smiles, the visage wicked.

“Get on the couch.” You try to stand, but he halts your effort with a hand on your head. “I didn’t say you could stand.”

You blink at him, confused. He only lifts an eyebrow.

You shift forward, planting your hands in front of you, crawling slowly towards the couch. You can feel his eyes on your ass, the whole experience humiliating but you can feel the wetness soaking your panties.

You seat yourself on the couch, waiting for his next instruction. He kneels between your legs, hands finding the button of your jeans with a deftness you could never dream of having. He urges your hips off the cushions as he tears the denim and your panties down in one motion. Next, those confident fingers curl into the hem of your shirt and shove it up only enough to expose your breasts to his dark gaze.

He shifts closer, the broad expanse of his shoulders keeping your legs open as he uses his thumbs to spread your wet folds open to him. You can’t help but clench in anticipation.

“Look at your desperate little hole, clenchin’ around nothin’,” he teases. He purses his lips, spit landing on your heated core and making you arch in surprise, a moan leaving your lips. “Christ, you’re fuckin’ filthy.”

He drags a rough thumb over your clit in slow circles, the sensation all together too much and not enough. Then two of his fingers slide inside of you, a pinch of pain at the sudden intrusion making you whimper. He curls his fingers as he withdraws his hand.

“Joel,” you whisper, voice watery.

“Gonna have to do better than that,” he replies, repeating his motions, faster this time. Again and again his fingers slide into your body, skimming a part inside of you that turns you into a whimpering mess, writhing beneath him on the couch.

“Please, Joel,” you beg, voice louder with this plea.

“Please, what?”

“More,” you beg. A third finger, the stretch painful and glorious, slides into your heat. And as delicious as the filled feeling is, your clit is pulsing with need. “More,” you cry again.

“Don’t get greedy,” he snaps, punctuating his words with a harsh thrust of his fingers.

“Want your mouth, Joel, please?” You beg again.

“What makes you think a desperate little slut deserves my mouth?” He asks. God, he sounds so fucking mean but it just makes you tighten around him.

“I’ve been good, Joel,” you say, voice small. You whimper at another harsh thrust of his fingers. “Please.”

His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks the sensitive nub roughly. Combined with the scratch of his stubble on your inner thighs and the dark look in his eyes as he gazes up your body, the taut thread of your release snaps, you pussy fluttering around his fingers as he keeps up his rough pace until your hips are writhing from your overstimulation.

“Thought you said you were bein’ good,” Joel says as he sits back on his heels. “But good girls ask permission to cum.”

You feel your lower lip tremble slightly, eyes stinging with a fresh wave of tears. “I’m sorry.”

He stands, sitting down heavily on the couch, his cock slapping against his belly. He wraps an arm around your waist, dragging you like a rag doll until you’re in his lap, the warm heat of him sliding through your wetness making you shiver.

“Make me cum,” he says, smacking one of your ass cheeks roughly. “Now.”

You reach between your bodies, holding his cock steady as you position it at your entrance. You slide down with a gasp, the size of him still holding a bite of pain despite the way he’d worked your cunt.

“No more sittin’ still.”

________

Joel’s eyes are fixed where his body meets yours, watching the obscene slide of your tight cunt over his cock with rapt attention. You’re a goddamn mess all over, cheeks stained with tears and lipstick smudged across your lips and chin. Your slick skin slides against him when you grind down on him with a whimper.

“Faster,” he demands. Your hands grip his shoulders for stability as you pick up your pace, bouncing desperately on his dick. He slides a hand around your throat, squeezing the sides roughly. He can feel your pulse intensify against his fingers.

“That’s it, just like that,” he groans. “You sure make a pretty little toy, baby.”

He feels your moan against his hand, the sound music to his depraved mind as he begins to thrust up, meeting each of your downward movements with a harsh smack of his hips.

When he’s balancing on the edge of his release, he withdraws from your body, using that hold on your throat to keep you suspended over his lap, grabbing his cock in a punishing grip. He allows you to drop down onto his knees and you gasp, eyes wide as you look between your bodies and watch as he cums, hot and thick, across your lower belly.

You collapse against his chest, and Joel allows the brief contact while you catch your breath. After a moment, he taps your hip, urging you off of him.

When you’re sitting on the couch, he shoves himself back into his jeans before leaning down to grab your pants, tossing them to you. If you notice that your underwear is missing, you don’t say anything as you pull your pants on. He goes to the bathroom, coming back with a rag that you use to scrape his spend from your skin.

“Go fix yourself in the bathroom,” he says. Without a word, you do as he says, shutting the door with a quiet click.

While you’re in there, he finds a t-shirt of his and clutches it in a white knuckled grip while you do your business behind the closed door. When you emerge, face wiped clean and hair mostly in place, he shoves the shirt into your hands.

“Put that on.” You stare at the bundle in your hands, brow furrowed. “Now.”

You tug the large shirt over your head, slipping your arms through. It hits mid thigh and covers your tits.

Perfect.

“Get out. And don’t come back.”

________

The door shuts behind you, the click of the latch as loud as a gunshot in the hallway.

Joel Miller is an asshole.

And you shouldn’t have expected anything less.

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