#it was way to easy to find scenes were they touch each other

[walnutmistjamie]

@giftober 2023 Day 23: Hands

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Up until the almost-end-of-the-world, the way Aziraphale and Crowley maintained their relationship was through a collection of well-established and repeated patterns (dances, you might say). These little rituals were what they used to communicate affection, intimacy and trust when they couldn’t say the things they wanted to say out loud. I like spending time with you. You make me happy, and I like making you happy. We’re in this together. I’ll always be there for you, even when your own side is not.

In season 1, as the stress of the impending apocalypse puts more and more pressure on their relationship, we see their patterns start to break down, and it’s very distressing for them. They’ve been communicating like this for so long that they don’t know what to do when one of them doesn’t follow the dance steps.

When we first see them in season 2, they seem in some ways to be closer than ever. They touch each other more easily, Aziraphale in particular. Crowley is comfortable enough in the bookshop that he has a Spot for putting his sunglasses when he takes them off by the door. They’re more open about acknowledging how much time they spend together and how many things in their lives are shared.

And I think, also, we expect them to be happy. They won, didn’t they? So it takes a while for the cracks to start to show.

It wasn’t until this post pointed out that the whole season, we never see them sit down and share a meal together in the present day (no, Crowley doesn’t eat; yes, it still counts) that it started coming together for me. The closer you look, the more you realize the old patterns they’re used to relying on are broken.

Three times, we see them sit down to their usual table for two (at the coffee shop, the bar, and the French restaurant) and then almost immediately get up again. This post also points out that we don’t see present-day Aziraphale eat anything on screen, other than one of the little candies in the Bentley. This in the same season we learn that Crowley is the one who introduced him to food! It’s one of their oldest rituals!

Even one of their most visually recognizable patterns starts to go wonky this season. In season 1, when the blocking allows it, Crowley’s always on Aziraphale’s left. When they’re standing or walking side by side, and most of the time when they’re sitting side by side together (there are some exceptions due to camera angles)…Crowley’s always on Aziraphale’s left (screen right if they’re facing us, screen left if we’re behind them). It’s one of the clues about the body swap that is easy to see when you know what to look for—in Berkeley Square they are each initially sitting on the “wrong” side of the bench. It’s so reliable that Aziraphale hears a little miracle bling in the sushi restaurant in s1 ep1 and turns to his left—because that’s where Crowley would appear—only to be startled by Gabriel on his right.

Go look at the scene where we find out Gabriel and Beez are a couple. You know the one.

And of course, many people have noted that in the end credits, we’d expect their positions on screen to be switched. They’re on the wrong sides. And it’s such a long shot that I think it has to be intentional.

Some people have speculated that this means they swapped bodies again. I don’t really buy that. Rather I think it is supposed to indicate what becomes extremely clear on a second viewing, that things are Off and Wrong. They are not okay.

And the more you watch them you see that Aziraphale’s excitement during his little adventures is manic and brittle, and that he misses having a place and a purpose and a mission to do good. And Crowley is depressed, unhealthily codependent, even more hypervigilant and cagey and angry than he was before. They both have layers and layers of trauma, and no way to talk about it. They have the time and freedom now to talk about what they want to be to each other, now that they don’t have to hide and encode and maintain plausible deniability. But they have no way to talk about that either, because that’s never been an option before. They don’t know how, and they are both so, so afraid.

And in the fights they have in episode 1 and episode 6, you realize they haven’t resolved anything from season 1. They’re having the same fight they had at the bandstand. Crowley wants to run, keep the two of them safe and damn the rest, and Aziraphale wants to stay and help, believing he can make a difference even in an imperfect system, and neither of them really understands the other’s position. It’s the same damn fight. They haven’t been able to move past this impasse, and it’s the exact thing that breaks them in the end.

And it’s just. Fuck. It’s such a human thing to have happened to them. To make it through the fire (metaphorical and literal) and then have everything go to shit afterward because of unaddressed traumas and insecurities and things left unsaid until they fester.

I know this is not at all how I expected the season to go, and I think it took a little while for me to parse what was going with their relationship, because we are predisposed to want them to be happy and to want things to be easy for them now. But it makes so much sense that this is where they ended up at this point in the story.

I know they’ll make it back to each other. They both love each other too much to give up. They’ll fight their way back together, and I know they’ll figure it out in the end.

But goddamn.

[mrkis]

bad habits. (m.l)

pairing. mark lee x fem!reader genre. smut word count. 6.5k

❝you know you're my favourite.❞

content warnings. explicit content, toxic behaviour from reader and mark, jealousy, mentions of alcohol, mentions of weed, indications of dealer!mark, manhandling, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, mean!mark, spanking, unprotected sex, creampie.

Don’t look at him. 

You mentally tell yourself as you tear your eyes away from Mark who enters the house party with a girl at his side, capturing a glimpse in your peripheral vision the way his hand rests at the bottom of her back as he leads her through the crowded room.

Stop looking at him.

You tell yourself again when your gaze inevitably draws back to him, find yourself staring at him from across the room, watching as he greets his friends with boyish handshakes and welcoming pats on the back before he settles down on the couch once they made room for him, the girl following closely behind and smoothly sliding her perfectly manicured hands on his thigh.

Stop.

Your tongue prods at your cheek in annoyance as you watch how close they lean into each other to speak, how his words seem to make her giggle and she tucks her hair behind her ears when he smiles at her, clearly enjoying his obvious flirtatious comments and your grip tightens around the cup you’ve been nursing the entire night, pulling your eyes away from the scene when his gaze finally meets yours.

The relationship you have with Mark is something you have never experienced before, but a relationship you weren’t too keen on letting go of anytime soon. Mark’s a friend; a friend who you sometimes rely on when things go south, a friend who picks you up in his car for late-night takeout runs and smoke weed until the sun rises, and a friend who you actively sleep with just to get rid of that dull ache between your thighs. 

You hate how he knows your body, sometimes even better than you know yourself. You hate how easy it is for him to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, igniting something within you that leaves you breathless and yearning for more. You hate how his touch leaves you desperate, craving for more than just his hands. You hate how his eyes alone can have you on your knees, the heavy weight of his cock resting on your tongue.

You can’t help but think that you have some sort of effect on him too, finding it amusing how easy it was to get him alone with you, to make him drop whatever he was doing just to be in your presence. It does, admittedly, bring you a lot of satisfaction in knowing that you may have some kind of hold over him like he does with you.

Although, there have been a handful of moments where he has ignored or rejected you, much like tonight.

You were the one that had invited him to come to this party when your best friend had first mentioned it.

You were the one that brought it up to him during an intimate encounter in the backseat of his car, asking him to accompany you only to be shut down and told that he wasn’t interested in some lame house party, and instead had something else planned for that night.

Before you even arrived at the party, you saw the Snapchat story posted by the girl who is currently clinging to his side like a leech. The image was blurry, but you could make out her holding two joints, with a caption thanking Mark and promising a fun night, while tagging his username. At first, you figured it was a deal, being aware that Mark sometimes sells his weed on the side for extra cash, but you never expected that the ‘something else’ he had planned would involve bringing her to a party he rejected coming to in the first place.

It honestly made you fucking pissed.

You mentally chastise yourself to get a grip and you scoff, tilting your head back and gulping down the rest of your drink, the alcohol searing your throat and momentarily distracting you from your own fiery emotions. You lower the cup, swiping the back of your hand at the corner of your lips, wiping away any lingering traces of liquid just as your best friend nears you with a drunken flush.

“Hey, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Yunjin exclaims as she flings her arms around your shoulders for a hug, but her embrace falters as she notices the expression on your face. “What’s happened?”

“I’m out,” You say, gesturing towards your empty cup with a tight lipped smile, trying to hold yourself back from admitting—“Oh, and Mark’s here.”

“I thought he said no to coming?” Yunjin’s brows knit together in confusion and she glances over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of Mark and her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but her expression quickly shifts to one of exasperation as she rolls her eyes and directs her attention back to you. “Are we really surprised? Come on, you know exactly what he’s like!”

“I know.” You hate it.

“He’s always been like this!”

“I know.” You really hate it.

Yunjin takes a moment to stare at you before she sighs, arms crossing over her front, “Yet it still doesn’t change the fact that you’re thinking about him right now.”

She’s got you there. “I know…”

Yunjin firmly places her hands on your cheeks, gripping with enough force to have you stare straight into her eyes, “Forget about him. He’s just some guy you’re sleeping with occasionally, and you know what that means?” You blink in response. “It means you’re single and free to sleep with anyone you want! We’re here to have fun, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do!”

She’s right. Of course she’s right. Her words bring a genuine smile to your face and you nod in agreement, determined to not let something so silly ruin your night. 

Yunjin wastes no time when she leaves, quickly returning back to you with fresh drinks and tapping her cup against yours with a mischievous grin. You both take a few hearty sips, allowing the alcohol to course through your veins and lighten your mood, head buzzing as she slips her fingers through yours to tug you away from your current position.

You mingle with a few of her other friends you’re familiar with, diving deep in conversations, laughing at jokes shared among the group, throwing flirtatious comments here and there when someone shows clear interest in you.

But you weren’t interested in them. 

Not at all.

Not when you can still see Mark in your line of vision, who remains his position on the couch, engrossed in his own conversation with his friends and the girl who has yet to leave his side, seemingly unwilling to leave.

Your jaw locks tight when Mark occasionally meets your gaze, rubbing his palms on his thighs and shifting in his seat, manspreading as he relaxes back against the cushions. Your eyes narrow, fighting the urge to roll them when the girl beside him snuggles in closer, offering a smile that could make anyone swoon, but he’s not even looking at her now.

He’s fully looking at you.

Mark’s head tilts to the side, the corner of his lips lifting into a subtle smile, leaving you with a mix of conflicting emotions that makes your head spin. On one hand, there’s a part of you that wants to wipe that look off of his face, fueled by your annoyance and frustration. But on the other hand, there’s a part of you that can’t help but be drawn to that smile, wanting to bask in the attention and keep his gaze fixed on you and you only.

A bitter taste lingers on the tip of your tongue as Mark’s gaze is taken away from you, watching as he leans his head down to listen attentively to the girl who whispers in his ear, her fingertips resting against his jawline to keep him in close. A forced laugh escapes your lips, the sound tinged with bitterness and your tongue prods at the inside of your cheek.

You rip your attention away from the pair, redirecting your focus to Yunjin who looks at you with a confused expression, clearly bewildered by your sudden laughter and you try to shake off that ugly feeling that has settled within you, offering her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes and Yunjin spots that immediately. 

She calls out your name softly, wanting to question your odd behaviour but her words come to a halt when the guy beside you grabs the attention of the group. Was it Dohyun? Dowon? You can’t remember, and frankly you don’t really care enough to remember. But you remain quiet as he speaks, asking if anyone knows where he can purchase weed at the party, if there is anyone who knows who he can buy from as he assures that he has the cash.

Mark. The name flickers in your mind almost instantly and you meet Yunjin’s gaze, watching as she subtly shakes her head at you, knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“I know someone,” You announce and Yunjin’s shoulders sag as she sighs deeply. You ignore her reaction as you extend your hand towards the guy, “Give me the money. I’ll go get it.”

“Are you sure?” He asks in surprise, hesitating for a moment despite already having the bills ready in the palm of his hand. “I don’t mind getting it—”

“It’s fine.” You cut him off abruptly, curling your fingers around the bills to take into your own hands. You turn on your heels, making a beeline directly towards Mark as you slip through the crowd, pushing through the bodies with determination and fire coursing through your veins, fingers grasping the money tighter just as you get closer, eyes locked in on Mark as he watches you near.

As you stand in front of him, your gaze involuntarily shifts to the girl by his side, tongue clicking against your teeth with bitterness tinging your thoughts as you observe her shuffling closer. Her hand is now resting on Mark’s bicep, fingers sinking into the fabric of his hoodie. 

The sight alone stirs a mixture of annoyance, frustration and jealousy in the pit of your stomach and in the moment, you find yourself in an internal struggle to either make some snarky or bitchy comment in hopes to get Mark to understand how pissed off you truly are, or to continue with what you were originally here for.

“Pre-rolls.” Is what you say with a monotone and direct voice, deciding to get straight to the point, extending your hand as you show Mark the money, making your intention clear.

Mark’s eyes briefly lower to the money before returning to meet yours, “For you or for someone else?”

“Does it matter?” You reply back sharply. “Pre-rolled joints, please.”

“For someone else then,” You hear Mark mutter beneath his breath as he digs inside the pocket of his pants to pull out exactly what you needed, but he’s quick to pull it out of reach as you go to snatch it from his grasp. Your frustration grows within you as you glare at him, but he takes no notice of your expression as he asks, “Are you smoking too?”

“Obviously.”

You watch as Mark reaches back into his pocket and your demeanour shifts slightly as he pulls out another batch of pre-rolls, ones you’re all too familiar with as you see the pink coloured skins. He knows you prefer spliffs over joints. You want to continue being annoyed and angry with how he knows you all too well but yet, deep down, your heart can’t help but thump wildly in your chest and a flutter of warmth swirls in the pit of your stomach at the seemingly thoughtful gesture.

You bite down on your tongue, not wanting to let him know how much that simple action affected you so much, “I don’t have enough money for two.”

“You don’t pay for yours anyways.” Mark states matter-of-factly as he takes the money for one pre-roll and hands you the two. It’s true, you think, curling your fingers around the two pre-rolls he has given you. You’ve never paid him when asking for a smoke, he doesn’t let you pay him.

“You giving out freebies?” The girl beside him speaks up for the first time, her tone playful as she decides to jump in on the conversation. She nudges Mark’s shoulder as she teases, “Pink skins too? How come I don’t get that treatment?”

“Because I’m his favourite,” You find yourself replying before your brain could register it, sending her a forced tight lipped smile as she looks up at you in surprise, not expecting you to be the one to respond. But you couldn’t care less. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“I was talking more about the pink skins,” She snips back at you and your tongue prods at your cheek once again, fighting off the urge to laugh as she turns to look at Mark as she smiles. “I like pink.”

“They’re for her.” Mark says as he gestures towards you with a nod of his head. The girl’s face drops, her smile completely fading and a sense of satisfaction washes over you. You offer her a sweet, sickly smile in return before leaving the scene, heading straight back to your group who are patiently waiting for you to come back. 

Yunjin comes to stand beside you as you hand the joint over to Dowon (you managed to overhear his name as you were nearing closer to the group.) and he grins in victory, thanking you with a wet, dramatic smooch to your cheek before lighting it up, taking a drag and passing it around the group.

Yunjin leans her head down, disappointment clear in her tone as she speaks to you in hushed whispers, ridiculing you for suggesting Mark in the first place, but her tone soon shifts to curiosity and wonder, wanting to know what happened between you and Mark, and what you both had spoken about.

You were partially honest with your answer, replying that the only topic of conversation was about the deal and you were able to get exactly what you wanted and more as you showed her your own little gift. She grins, bumping her shoulder to yours proudly before jumping in conversation with the others, taking the joint out of another's hand while you tuck yours away in your purse, saving it for later.

You had enough. 

The irritation you felt becomes unbearable, unable to be masked by the alcohol coursing through your veins.

The sight of Mark and the girl still in the same position on the couch; sitting close, sharing whispers and smiles. It gnaws at you despite your failed attempts to bury them with distractions, dancing with others, kissing others with lingering touches.

You’ve reached your breaking point. 

You wish you were drunk enough to ignore everything and continue on with the night, but unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case. 

You wanted to leave. 

Most importantly, you wanted to leave with him.

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. It would certainly be easier to leave without him or even find someone else to go home with—Yunjin or some random stranger. But honestly, you couldn’t care less about the easy options. You never cared. 

Abandoning your half-empty cup without a second thought, you leave Yunjin behind, not even bothering to fill her in on what you’re about to do. The sound of her questioning fades into the background as you make your way towards the living room area with a determined stride. 

As you approach closer, a sense of tunnel vision takes over; everything else seems to fade into the background too, sounds becoming distant whispers or muted, completely overshadowed by your own thoughts and emotions.

You begin to second guess how this upcoming conversation would go, if Mark would actually leave with you this time if you asked. After all, he said no to coming here with you, so why would he agree to leave with you? 

You internally scowl at yourself for even thinking about something so negatively. 

He’s wrapped around your finger just as much as you’re wrapped around his.

“I’m leaving,” You declare as soon as you stand in front of Mark, not even giving him enough time to react to your sudden appearance. He remains unbothered, his gaze meeting yours as he lifts a soda can to his lips. His eyebrow raises in response and without missing a beat, you continue, “Come home with me.”

The girl sitting beside Mark reacts with utter disbelief, her mouth dropping open as she scoffs at your audacity, eyebrows knitting together at your words but you’re unfazed by her reaction. It doesn’t make you feel bad at all, not as your focus remains on Mark, waiting for his response.

And in that moment, you feel a sense of victory and satisfaction swell in your chest when Mark gives a simple nod of his head and rises from the couch, reaching in his pocket for his car keys as he bids his friends a goodbye.

“Wait!” The girl exclaims as she interrupts, tone filled with desperation and her hand shoots out, gripping Mark’s upper arm tightly, halting his movements. Her eyes shift towards you at first, giving you a harsh look before turning her attention back to Mark, “Are you serious right now? You were my ride here. How am I supposed to get home?”

You hold yourself back, biting down on your tongue to stop yourself from responding, though your annoyance is clearly visible on your face. You keep silent, watching as Mark’s face remains impassive, retrieving his car keys from his pocket.

“That’s not my problem,” He states bluntly, removing her grip from his arm without hesitation, words devoid of any sympathy. “You’ll figure it out.”

The girl’s jaw drops even further, shocked at Mark’s sudden change in attitude and tone. A smug grin finds its way onto your lips, unable to contain that satisfaction bubbling within you and you wave your fingers in her direction as Mark’s arm finds its way around your waist, resting his hand on your hip as he leads you out of the area.

As you’re leaving the building, Yunjin’s disappointed gaze lingers on you, but still mouths for you to be careful and gestures for you to call her when you get home. You nod in acknowledgement, blowing her a kiss before turning away and leaving her behind.

The cold air brushes against your burning skin, but your mind is preoccupied with a whirlwind of angry thoughts and unanswered questions, the scowl is clear on your face. Mark leads the way, guiding you towards his parked car in silence.

It’s deafening and you hate it, intensifying the frustrations that simmer within you. You’re getting angrier.

You climb into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut with enough force it rattles the car. Mark, who seems completely oblivious to your anger or just isn’t taking any notice, takes his place in the driver's seat, and his ongoing silence fuels your irritation even more.

Without sparing you a glance, Mark inserts the key into the ignition and twists it, setting the car’s engine rumbling to life. His attention is on the dashboard as he presses a few buttons to turn on the radio, playing a song you’re all too familiar with but not in the mood to vibe along with like you usually would.

Your frustration grows further when Mark casually drapes one arm around the back of your seat, focussing behind the vehicle as he reverses and then pulls out of the parking space, the car gradually gaining momentum as it merges onto the road. 

Setting back into your seat, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, your gaze alternates between the side of Mark’s face and the road ahead. You’re aware that it would be best to stay quiet and allow yourself to calm down before questioning him, yet the curiosity mixed with annoyance within you refused to be silenced. You bite down on your tongue hard. 

You can’t. 

“Thought you weren’t coming tonight,” You finally speak, unable to hold back your words. The bitterness seeps into your voice as you continue, “I thought you weren’t interested in ‘some lame house party’.”

Mark’s response comes with a nonchalant tone that irks you, “I’m not,” He shrugs his shoulders. “I had things planned, but plans changed.”

“So you decided to come to the party, which I invited you to, with a girl?” You question, unable to hide the tinge of jealousy in your voice.

Mark glances at you briefly, a smirk playing on his lips. His audacity strikes a nerve and you release a dry laugh, your tongue prodding at your cheek in disbelief.

“Sora was one of the people that I was dealing with tonight,” Mark explains, his words casual. “Donghyuck texted me while I was at her house that he was at this party and wanted to buy weed. I told him I’d drop by and give him some.”

Sora. Her name makes your face scrunch up in displeasure. “Right. Then you somehow ended up coming to the party with Sora and stayed for the majority of the night.”

Mark grins, teeth biting down on his bottom lip, “She was actually planning to go to the party after she saw me. But once she found out that I was heading there, she asked if she could ride with me. I drove her, and when I realised Donghyuck wasn’t outside, I was going to leave. Then Sora said she’d help me find him inside, so I went in.”

You mutter under your breath, the words escaping in a frustrated whisper, “Still doesn’t explain why you stayed.”

“I got caught up with friends,” Mark responds simply, his hand reaching over the centre console to rest on top of your thigh, squeezing the flesh beneath his fingers. His touch attempts to sooth you, his voice softening. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” You lie through your teeth. “Just wish you would’ve at least told me you were coming or came up and said hello when you arrived.”

“I’m sorry,” His apology is minimal, but his tone sounds sincere as his thumb draws circles on your skin. ”Like I said, I wasn’t planning on staying.” Mark takes a quick glance over at you, a smirk tugging on his lips. “You’re wearing that dress I like, baby… walking up to you and saying hello wouldn’t be the first thing I’d do.”

You hum at that, twisting in your seat to face him, “And what would you do?”

“The same thing I did the last time I saw you at a party.” 

The low tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine and your thighs squeeze together to relieve that sudden ache in your cunt, vividly remembering that night where he tugged you upstairs and fucked you in someones bathroom, not caring that the mirror rattled against the walls and belongings of all sorts had fallen off the counter, creating a mess on the floor that neither of you bothered to clean up when leaving. 

“I don’t remember,” You lie, giving him a glossy smile. “I think you have to remind me.”

Mark looks out into the open road, “Do you see a bathroom anywhere?”

“Funny,” You roll your eyes, but you lean over to brush your fingers over his crotch. “You can just remind me here—”

“We’re not fucking in my car,” His words make your eyebrows raise in shock, your mouth ajar as you scoff before ripping your hand away. Mark smiles, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “Last time we were in here, you ruined my seats. The shit cost too much to clean, baby.”

You’re bitter as you reply, “You didn’t seem to complain before when you were desperate to make me cum over and over again.”

Mark’s laughter fills the car, his tongue clicking against his teeth as he shakes your head at your bitter attitude. The sound gets on your nerves immensely. You scoff, your arms crossing tightly over your chest, and you direct your gaze out the window, intentionally ignoring him for the rest of the journey.

As the car turns onto your street and your home comes into view, you reach for the seatbelt. Once Mark parks the car outside your house, you swiftly unbuckle and slip out of the car, slamming the passenger door shut with a force that rattles it. The sound of Mark’s laughter only further irritates you.

With your house key in hand, you unlock the door and step inside, feeling Mark’s presence behind you. His warmth brushes against your back, but you refuse to acknowledge it, striding towards your room. Standing in front of your vanity table, you remove your sparkly earrings, your focus solely on the task at hand as you chew your inner cheek with a scowl.

“Don’t tell me you’re ignoring me now,” Mark drawls, his voice reaching your ears. You raise your head to meet his gaze in the mirror’s reflection. He leans against the door frame, a smirk playing on his lips, despite the feigned upset tone in his voice. He continues, “You told me to come home with you, and now you’re giving me this treatment? All because I wouldn’t fuck you in my car? You’re cold, baby.”

You huff quietly, even though you know deep down that Mark’s words hold some truth. You continue to stay quiet, unclasping the necklace from around your neck and placing it back in its designated spot.

Mark’s tongue pokes at his cheek as he continues, “I could’ve just stayed with Sora—”

You immediately bristle, and you whirl around to face him. “You’re not funny.”

Mark’s grin widens, his eyes sparkling. “Got you to finally talk to me, though.”

You let out a forced laugh, your hands planted firmly on your hips as you stare at Mark. “You know what? You can go. I don’t care. Go. Go back to the party and spend the rest of your night with Sora.”

“Hey,” Mark’s response is immediate as he moves towards you, standing right in front of you. His fingers reach up to grasp your jaw, the cool sensation of his rings against your warm skin. He playfully shakes your head, and a part of you wants to push him away, but you remain still, unable to resist him. “Enough, a’ight? You know I’d rather be here with you anyways.”

And you do. Deep down, you know that. But you love pushing his buttons, especially with the thrill it gives you.

Pressing further, you challenge him. “Do I really?”

Mark’s voice hums with confidence. “Of course you do. You know you’re my favourite.”

You blink, “So there are others?”

Mark sucks in a breath, his grip of your jaw tightening as a playful warning. You can’t help but grin, pleased in your ability to get under his skin so easily. “Pain in my ass, I swear.”

A giggle escapes your lips as your arms wrap around his shoulders, and his hand releases your jaw, sliding down to rest at the base of your spine. His fingers put gentle pressure, urging you closer, and you willingly comply as you allow your chest to press against his.

Your fingers curl around the hair at the nape of Mark’s neck, the grin on your lips unyielding as you continue to taunt him. “Pain in your ass, yet you still can’t get enough of me,” You then feign surprise. “Don’t tell me you like me, Mark?”

“Yeah, yeah, you wish.” Mark mutters dismissively, his head dipping down as he crushes his lips against yours in a heated kiss, sending a surge of electricity through your veins. You respond eagerly without a moment of hesitation, matching his fervour, your lips moving in perfect sync.

Mark’s hand glides up from your lower spine to firmly grip the back of your neck, keeping you pressed against him. The sensation of his touch sends shivers down your spine, and you fist the material of his hoodie in your grasp, ensuring that he stays close to you. 

As the kiss deepens, you feel a gentle nip of his teeth on your bottom lip, causing you to gasp at the pinch. Your lips part, giving him an invitation for his tongue to slip inside your mouth. The taste of him, the mingling of your breath, it’s intoxicating to you, and you want more.

The force of his kisses pushing your back against your vanity table, the impact causing a few of your belongings to clatter to the ground. But you pay no mind, your focus is solely on Mark who stands between your parted thighs, his hands sliding beneath the bottom of your dress.

“Lift your hips a lil f’me.” Mark orders you, and you listen. With his fingers that hook under the band of your panties, he pulls them down in one swift movement, discarding the material carelessly to the side before his arm hooks around your back. 

You yelp in surprise as he effortlessly lifts you up from the vanity table, and your legs instinctively wrap around his hips to make sure you don’t fall, but it doesn’t matter when Mark drops you on the bed with a bounce.

Before you can fully register what happened, Mark’s hands curl around your ankle and he tugs you to the edge of the bed, and you watch with parted lips as his hand moves between your thighs to drag his middle finger through your slit.

“You’re fucking soaked…” Mark hums as he lowers himself down, gazing up at you from your parted thighs. A silent gasp leaves your lips as his two fingers sink into your tight, wet heat. “You had so much to say earlier, and now you’re quiet. Feels too good?”

“Just shut up.” You bite back, and a smile breaks out onto Mark’s face, sending you a wink before he leans down and swirls his tongue against your swollen clit, plunging his fingers into your cunt at a steady rhythm. 

Airy moans leave you as you try to watch Mark, but his free hand slowly creeps up your body and pushes down at your chest, making you fall back against the mattress with a huff. You’re reminded of the dress that’s still clinging to your body, making you regret not taking it off sooner, but all of your worries and problems are pushed to the side when you feel Mark’s drape your legs over his shoulders, closing him in.

“Fu—ah,” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your back arches off the bed. You’re unable to use your words, lost in the feeling of Mark sucking at your clit and his fingers curling in your spongy walls, brushing over that spot that has your thighs tightening around his head. 

One hand grips the bedsheets, and your other lands on top of his hair, threading your fingers through the overgrown strands and you tug, eliciting a groan from his chest. You’re grinding your pussy against his face, desperate for more, and he doesn’t seem to mind, allowing you to use him as you please. 

Until your legs soon fall from his shoulders when Mark forces them apart, spreading you out in front of him when he feels your climax approaching, and he leans back as he watches his fingers pump into you. The speed in which his fingers move has your legs closing around his hand, and his tongue clicks against his teeth in a sound of disapproval.

“Keep them open,” Mark warns you, and when you fail to listen, his fingers slow down, causing you to glare at him. “Don’t look at me like that. What did I just say?” Your legs part, and Mark nods his head. “That’s right…” 

He picks up speed, and he drives his fingers inside your cunt, a grin playing on his lips as he keeps his gaze locked on yours, staring down at your face as he leans over you. You gasp when his thumb rubs your clit for stimulation, and you immediately cum.

The squelching sound of your wetness is heard throughout the room along with your wailing, your body shakes and walls contract around his fingers. He’s laughing as he fingers you through your orgasm, watching as your body trembles and your hips rut against his hand.

You cry out in pleasure, your body shaking and your brain fuzzy as Mark fingers you through your high, and laughs as he watches you tremble, your hips rutting against his hand before you slump back, trying to catch your breath.

Mark removes his fingers from your sensitive cunt, and you watch through hazed vision as he sucks them clean. The sight alone is enough to have a surge of energy rush through your veins, and you sit up to pull him into a kiss. Mark groans when your tongue slides into his mouth, and when he kneels in between your thighs, he takes hold of your wrist and guides your hands towards his belt.

You immediately know what he wants you to do, and you comply. You unbuckle his belt hastily through hungry kisses, and make quick work of the button and zipper, tugging the material down to the middle of his thighs along with his boxers.

Usually, you would’ve completely rid him of his clothes and yourself. But on this specific night, you were too desperate to have him to go through with the task, and Mark seems to be feeling the same when he suddenly throws you around. 

You huff as the air is knocked out of your lungs when you’re flipped onto your tummy, and you turn your head to the side, cheek mushed against your pillow as you watch Mark through your lashes. He’s fisting his cock, tip leaky and red, spreading his precum around the base. He taps his cock on your puffy folds and you squirm, an irritated whine leaving your lips to which Mark smirks at.

You grit through your teeth, “Hurry up.”

“Just admiring the view,” Mark cheekily replies, giving you a wink before his cock nudges between your folds. “Breathe.” He instructs you.

You bite back the remark that’s resting on the tip of your tongue, and you inhale deeply, only to let out a drawn out moan when Mark pushes himself inside, the familiarity of him stretching out your cunt making your toes curl and fingers grip the bed sheets.

Once he’s fully seated inside your warmth, buried in you to the hilt, you feel his ringed hands slide up your spine beneath your dress, his blunt fingernails pressing into your skin as he drags his hand back down before gripping your hips, keeping you still as he begins to thrust.

“So wet ‘n tight for me, baby…” Mark grunts, pinching your hips. He lays a firm slap on your ass, “So good f’me. Always so good.”

He repeatedly pumps in and out of you, gradually picking up his speed, and you find yourself moaning with each deep thrust of his hips. You fuck yourself back onto his cock when you feel his grip loosen on you, and your volume increases, mewling at the feeling of Mark’s cock fucking you so deep that it makes your head feels fuzzy.

You pant, “I wan’ more.”

“More?” Mark repeats with a chuckle, and his lips curl into a grin as he watches your ass bounce back on his cock. “I’m already deep inside your guts, what more could you want?”

You give him a dark glare in warning, “Mark—”

“You already cum once too,” Mark tsks, and you feel his hand slip around your waist to slot between your thighs. You shiver when you feel the pads of his ringed fingers brush over your puffy clit, “Fucking greedy, aren’t you? You take, take, take…” 

You gasp as his fingers start rubbing slow circles, and your pussy clamps around his cock. “Ah!”

“Good thing I’ll always give you what you want, right?”

Your mouth hangs open, and your eyebrows knit together from the stimulation of Mark’s cock fucking into you and rubbing your clit, the pleasure building. He’s grunting loudly behind you, his free hand giving harsh taps to your ass and soothing over the sore area.

It surprises you slightly when Mark’s hips slows down for a moment as he bends over you to press a wet smooch to your cheek, but you crane your neck awkwardly to capture his lips in a kiss, only lasting a few moments before he straightens and resumes his pace. 

“Gonna cum for me, sweet thing?” Mark asks when he feels the walls of your cunt flutter around him, knowing all too well. You nod your head quickly, and Mark smiles as he pinches your clit, eliciting a squeal from you. “Wait.”

You gape at him, “Wai—you’re joking?”

He raises an eyebrow, “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“I can’t wait!” You bristle, shaking your head quickly, already feeling the pleasure build up in your tummy.

All Mark does is laugh at you, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he mutters about you always getting what you want, and you go to snap back to defend yourself, but the words fail to come out of your mouth when you feel his cock swell inside of your cunt, and with one harsh thrust of his hips, you’re cumming with a loud cry of his name.

He curses under his breath, trying his best to keep the momentum as he pushes further into your tightening walls, only for his orgasm to hit harshly. He’s hips jerk, his cock pumping you full of cum, and he’s breathing heavily as his hands rub your sides.

You’re sweaty and sticky, immediately regretting not taking off your dress the second he had you against the vanity table earlier. You grunt at the ache in your hips and lower back as Mark pulls his cock out of you, and you slump to the bed with a huff, allowing your body to relax while muttering quiet complaints.  

Mark chuckles at your antics, and he reaches out, pressing his fingers into your lower back to massage you and you grin happily, melting at his touch. 

“Spoilt,” Mark states, and you lift your hand to give him the middle finger in retaliation. Mark grins and continues his ministrations for a few more minutes before he lets you go, causing you to jut your bottom lip out into a pout as you turn to look at him. “Easy, girl. You need to go pee, and then we’re gonna go shower. Get you cleaned up.”

A smirk makes its way onto your face as you tease, “How chivalrous.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” He waves dismissively at you, and he stands up from your bed. He offers a hand out to you and you take it, feeling his fingers clasp around yours as he pulls you up, and he wraps a steady arm around your waist as your feet touch the ground. “I still got some weed leftover from the party, I’ll roll when we’re done. Pink skins for the princess, right?”

Feeling smug and confident, you raise your head high. “Right.”

©𝗠𝗥𝗞𝗜𝗦

[godsfavdarling]

How could you?

my masterlist, part 2

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader (established relationship)

words: 2,3k

summary: You go to Spencer's apartment, only to witness a shocking betrayal that shatters your world.

warnings: angst, hurt, spoilers for season 15!

a/n: this was one of the ideas for the later chapters of my full story 'Keep Holding On' (completed and available here), but there wasn't really a place for it. so, I decided to just make it into a one-shot with a gender-neutral reader!

You and Spencer have been together for a few years now, your relationship a patchwork of late-night conversations, lazy weekends spent on a couch with books, and long nights in each other's arms.

Although his job isn't easy and you don't get him to yourself as much as you'd like to, you wouldn't change a thing. He and the love you share mean everything to you.

In the quiet moments when you're alone, you find yourself marveling at how unexpected and yet perfectly fitting your love story is. You never thought this could happen to you. 

You never let yourself believe that there would be a man like Spencer loving you and accepting every fiber of your being.

Spencer's presence in your life is like a gentle breeze on a hot summer's day, soothing and comforting. His unwavering support and understanding make even the toughest days bearable. And when he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, you feel a sense of belonging that you've never known before.

You cherish the simple moments shared over cups of coffee in the morning or stolen kisses in the middle of the day. In Spencer's eyes, you see a reflection of your own hopes and dreams, and in his laughter, you find the melody of your heart's desires.

As you drift off to sleep each night, nestled in Spencer's embrace, you offer a silent prayer of gratitude for the love that fills your days and the warmth that fills your heart. 

In him, you've found not just a partner, but a kindred spirit, a soulmate who completes you in ways you never knew were possible. And for that, you will always be thankful.

There's an unspoken language that exists only between you and Spencer. It's a language of love, trust, and understanding that transcends words.

You marvel at how effortlessly Spencer seems to know what you need, even before you do. His intuition is uncanny, his gestures of affection tender and sincere. 

Whether it's a simple touch on the small of your back as he passes by or a reassuring squeeze of your hand when you're feeling uncertain, Spencer has an innate ability to make everything feel right.

You trust him with your deepest fears, your wildest dreams, and every fragile piece of your heart.

In his arms, you find sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world, a safe harbor where you can be your truest self without fear of judgment or rejection.

And as you navigate the challenges of life together, you're constantly reminded of just how perfect Spencer is in your eyes. His kindness knows no bounds, his patience infinite. 

But it's not just his virtues that make him perfect; it's the way he loves you, wholly and unconditionally. In Spencer, you've found a partner who sees you for who you truly are, flaws and all, and loves you all the more fiercely because of them.

Now as you climb the stairs to Spencer's apartment, your heart flutters. Spencer has just started his 30 days of obligatory sabbatical, and you're looking forward to spending more time together now that his only obligation is his teaching job. You've picked up takeout on the way, eager to share a quiet evening together.

But as you open the door, your excitement turns to shock and disbelief.

There, before you, is Spencer, locked in a passionate embrace with JJ. Her hands are cupping his cheeks, their lips pressed together in a kiss that sends a jolt of pain through your chest.

Time seems to stand still as the bags of food slip from your fingers, crashing to the floor with a dull thud. You can't tear your eyes away from the scene before you, the weight of betrayal crushing down on you like a ton of bricks.

A thousand thoughts race through your mind, each one more painful than the last.

How could Spencer do this to you? How long has this been going on? And most importantly, how could you have been so blind to the truth?

Your heart feels like it's been ripped from your chest, shattered into a million pieces by the revelation before you. The love and trust you once shared with Spencer now lay in ruins at your feet, leaving you feeling empty and alone in a world that suddenly seems cold and indifferent.

As Spencer and JJ finally break apart, their eyes widening in shock at your sudden appearance, you feel a surge of anger rising within you. But beneath the anger lies a deep well of hurt and sadness, a pain that cuts to the very core of your being.

Without a word, you turn on your heel and flee from the apartment, tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggle to make sense of the betrayal that has shattered your world.

Everything spins around you in a blur of tears and confusion, you turn and run down the stairs, desperate to escape the pain and betrayal that threaten to consume you.

Each step feels like a marathon, your legs heavy with the weight of sorrow and disbelief.

But just as you reach the bottom of the stairs, your vision swimming with tears, you stumble, your foot catching on the edge of a step. You plummet forward, the ground rushing up to meet you with terrifying speed.

In that split second before impact, a pair of strong arms wraps around you, pulling you back from the brink of disaster. You gasp in shock and relief as Spencer catches you, his grip firm and steady.

For a moment, you cling to him like a lifeline, your body trembling with the force of your emotions.

You can't breathe, can't think, can't comprehend the enormity of what has just happened.

As you collapse onto the stairs, your sobs echoing in the empty stairwell, Spencer kneels beside you, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration.

He reaches out to touch you, but you flinch away, unable to bear the thought of his hands on your skin.

"Please," he pleads, his voice cracking with emotion. "Let me explain. It wasn't what you think. I didn't...I didn't do anything."

But his words fall on deaf ears as you struggle to make sense of the chaos swirling inside your head.

How could Spencer betray you like this? How could he let someone else touch him in that way?

As the truth begins to dawn on you, a wave of anger washes over you, hot and relentless. You push yourself away from Spencer, your chest heaving with the effort to draw breath.

"Don't," you choke out, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't touch me."

But Spencer refuses to give up, his eyes burning with determination as he reaches for you once more. "Please," he begs, his voice raw with emotion. "Let me explain. It wasn't me. It was her."

You place a trembling hand on your chest, trying to steady your racing heart as you struggle to catch your breath.

"How could you?" you utter, your voice barely above a whisper, the words heavy with accusation and pain.

Spencer's eyes are full of anguish as tears well up in his eyes. He reaches out to you, his hand hovering in the air between you, a silent plea for forgiveness that you're not sure you're ready to grant.

But before you can respond, JJ appears at the top of the stairs, her mouth open as if she's about to say something. But then, with a quick shake of her head, she closes her mouth and walks past the two of you without a word.

You stare after her in disbelief, your mind reeling with confusion and hurt.

You struggle to make sense of the situation. You knew of the hostage situation with JJ and how she had professed her love for Spencer. But you also remember how Spencer immediately came to you, confessing everything and reassuring you of his love for you.

He spent the whole night telling you every detail of what happened, assuring you that his heart belonged to you and you alone. He made it clear that you were the one he loved, not JJ.

So what happened? How could he be kissing her now, after everything he said and everything you've been through together?

With a shaky breath, you push yourself up from the stairs, your muscles tense with the effort to contain the storm raging within you. You want to flee, to distance yourself from him and the shattered remnants of your trust.

But before you can take a single step, Spencer's voice cuts through the tumultuous haze of your thoughts, pleading with you to stay. His words are a desperate plea for understanding, for a chance to explain the inexplicable.

"Please," he implores, his voice cracking with emotion. "Don't leave. I need to explain. I swear, it wasn't what it looked like. You have to believe me."

You hesitate, torn between the desire to escape and the need for answers. Despite the overwhelming pain coursing through your veins, there's a part of you that still craves the truth, no matter how agonizing it may be.

You groan loudly, the weight of the situation bearing down on you like a leaden blanket. Your mind races with a million questions, each one more painful than the last.

But for now, you're too overwhelmed to process anything.

With another loud groan, you turn and begin to make your way back upstairs, your steps heavy with exhaustion and despair.

You can feel Spencer's eyes boring into your back, his silent plea for you to stay echoing in the empty stairwell.

As you reach the top of the stairs, you don't look back, you enter the apartment and your only thought is to find a moment of solace in the solitude of the bathroom.

With trembling hands, you shut the door behind you, the click of the lock a final barrier between you and the chaos that threatens to consume you.

And as you sit there, trembling and broken, you realize that there's something about Spencer, something in the depths of his eyes that compelled you to stay, to hear him out.

It's a trust that runs deeper than words.

As you emerge from the bathroom after a few minutes, the weight of the silence between you and Spencer hangs heavy in the air.

You find him on the couch, his leg shaking uncontrollably, his fingers fidgeting nervously. His face is etched with worry and pain, mirroring the tumult of emotions raging inside you both.

He gave you space, just as he always did. It's one of the things you've always admired about him, his ability to recognize when you needed time to process and heal.

But now, as you sit in the armchair nearby, staring at him with a mix of curiosity and apprehension, you can't help but feel the need for answers, for some semblance of understanding in the chaos that surrounds you.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Spencer speaks. His voice is hoarse with emotion, the words tumbling out in a rush as if he's been holding them back for far too long.

"She just showed up," he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. "Out of nowhere, she started talking about how she loves me and how she was stupid for ignoring it for so long. She said she couldn't pretend anymore..."

You listen in stunned silence, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. So it wasn't Spencer who initiated the kiss, it was JJ.

But why?

As Spencer continues to speak, his words are a desperate attempt to make sense of the madness that has engulfed your lives, you find yourself drawn to him, to the vulnerability etched into every line of his face.

Despite the pain and betrayal that still lingers between you, there's a part of you that can't help but empathize with his plight.

As Spencer falls silent, his eyes searching yours for some sign of forgiveness or understanding, you find yourself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions.

Hurt, betrayal, and confusion war with a lingering sense of empathy and love for the man sitting before you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart and collect your thoughts. "Spencer," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "I... I don't know what to say."

His eyes widen in anticipation, his expression a mixture of hope and fear. "I understand," he murmurs, his voice laced with regret. "I know I've hurt you, and I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen."

"I need time," you finally say, your voice trembling with emotion. "I need time to process everything, to figure out where we go from here."

Spencer nods solemnly, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I understand," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "Take all the time you need. I'll be here, waiting for you."

With a heavy sigh, you push yourself up from the armchair, your limbs feeling like lead. "I'm going to go," you say, your voice barely a whisper. "I just... I need some space."

Spencer nods, his gaze following you as you make your way to the door. "I'll be here," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. "I love you."

You pause in the doorway, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. "I love you too," you murmur, your voice choked with emotion.

And with that, you step out into the cool night air, the weight of the world heavy on your shoulders.

As you make your way home, you can't help but wonder will it ever be the same between the two of you?

[limarieb]

i come around (when you least expect me)

Pairing(s): emo!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: After a one-night stand during a party, you find yourself in an odd gray area with your best friend's sister. It just so happens that your best friend's sister is also the person that has been making your life a living hell for the last few years... all without your best friend knowing.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, cursing, mentions of drinking/parties, high school au, Wanda lowkey kinda mean but i SWEAR its lowkey, non-graphic scenes of kissing/making out (no smut... yet...?)

Word Count: 3.5k

Author's Note: sorry for my lack of posting, but i promised it would come soon(ish)! here's that 100 follower special i promised — oh, and thank youuuu all for the follows and support... i love you all <3 (title from 'heartbeat' by childish gambino) ... also, requests/asks are still open!

Main Masterlist | ao3 | Wattpad

...

Pain. Throbbing, aching pain. The discomfort from your current hangover surrounded every inch of your mind, physically and metaphorically. Well, almost every inch... because memories from last night were finally reaching the surface now that you have awoken, conscious and, unfortunately, sober.

The sweet lips on yours.

The feeling of skin, hot and sweaty, against your own.

The perfect dichotomy of soft hands on your body as they gripped at your skin roughly, almost primal in nature.

And they all belonged to your best friend's twin sister.

You started to get ready for the day — whoever talked you into attending a party the day before the school year began should be arrested and fined for such a disservice.

Thankfully, you planned enough ahead to bring clothes to the twins' house for today. The outfit you had chosen was relatively casual: the worn-down, navy blue sweater that had been your father's during his college years and the comfiest pair of jeans you could find.

Venturing downstairs to the kitchen, you finally felt the extent of how poorly your stomach felt due to the heavy drinking from the previous night. You opted for something easy, pulling the first box of cereal that your fingertips touched out of the cabinet. You never liked cereal too much, but anything went during difficult times like these.

As you poured yourself a bowl of the bland cereal, footsteps sounded throughout the house. They were coming closer and closer to your location. You assumed it had been Pietro.

You were... close — it was her.

When you looked up from the bowl to see who the person was, you were displeased to find the girl standing there, simply observing you with a smirk on her face. It reminded you of the villainous expressions from the television: conniving and mischievous.

"Stop staring at me like that," you sneered, trying to keep your volume low enough that Pietro would not hear you but loud enough that she would sense the harsh seriousness of your tone.

Wanda maintained her gaze, simply tilting her head as if to challenge you, "Like what?"

"Like you know what I taste like."

The faux innocence in her expression slightly faltered. Her eyebrows rose, the shock from your words evident on her face. As Wanda opened her mouth to form another witty remark, the sound of a door opening made the two of you go effectively silent. Wanda looked toward the direction of the sound, awaiting his entrance in a way that demonstrated her indifference toward last night's events. You, on the other hand, completely averted your gaze from both of the twins due to the shame that coursed through your veins.

The rational part of your brain begged for you to tell Pietro about what happened last night; it would resolve the guilt that clawed at you with each passing minute, lifting the weight off of your shoulders entirely. Yet, each time that you began to plan the exact words of your apology, any ideas you had conjured seemed to fall short. It was not as if you could search the internet for a script concerning "how to tell your best friend that you mistakenly (but not so mistakenly that you stopped it) hooked up with his emo, bitchy twin sister at a party."

Your eyes swiftly returned to Wanda, watching her inch closer to where you stood by the counter. She reached her arm behind you, leaning in close enough that your breath mingled with hers. If asked, you would completely and utterly deny that part of your mind was anticipating the vibrant feeling of her lips on yours again; however, the fleeting glance at her lips revealed otherwise.

Wanda noticed. Of course, you would fall into her trap, and she noticed. She smirked in response to your reaction before leaning away and taking a few steps back. A banana was in the hand that had been behind you. Scoffing at yourself, you cannot believe that you let her tease you again.

"See you at school, Y/N," she declared with narrowed eyes, looking you up and down once more before waltzing out of the front door.

You took a deep breath, attempting to recuperate your mind for the day ahead of you. As soon as Wanda had left, Pietro walked into the kitchen, ignorant of what had just occurred.

Standing still as if in a daze, you could only sense Pietro race around the kitchen, grabbing various items he needed for the day ahead. After a few minutes, he slowed to a stop after closing the door to the fridge. He must have sensed your unusual stillness, then he asked, “You okay? Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You shakily nodded. “All good,” you forced yourself to stutter out. Not even you believed your words, but it seems as if Pietro was too busy in his own world to truly notice the lack of honesty in your reply. “I’m all good. Now come on, we’re gonna be late.”

The two of you scurried out the door in the hopes that you had not missed the bus. It was a bad habit that you both had been trying to break for years now but remained relatively unsuccessful.

As the two of you approached the classic, yellow school bus that sat on the corner of the street, Pietro raced ahead in order to save you the extra minute of running. He gracefully entered the bus, climbing its stairs with ease; meanwhile, you were audibly out of breath and tried to ignore the glances the bus driver gave to the two of you.

Pietro, like most mornings, found himself sitting with some of his friends from the cross country team, leaving you to fend for yourself. You quickly scanned the bus for an empty row so you could sit by yourself, but you quickly realized that was a luxury you could not afford after such a late arrival. While you could not find an empty row, you were about to find a single empty seat towards the back of the bus.

You shuffled your feet to the empty seat but stopped as soon as you noticed its other inhabitant: Wanda.

Bile suddenly formed in your throat at the thought of having to spend more time with her — more specifically, without her brother, your friend, and coincidentally the only person to keep her dangerous, spontaneous nature in check, present. You approached her, simply attempting to take the bus ride silently and one minute at a time. You swore to yourself internally that you would not respond to her, irrespective of whatever she may say or do.

The bus slowly pulled away from the stop and started its route toward the high school. For the first few minutes, everything seemed to be going unusually fine. Wanda sat silently beside you, wired earphones trailing from her phone to her ears. As her gaze remained fixed toward the window, you wonder if she had even noticed that a person had now occupied the seat next to her, let alone that person being you.

You naively took her initial lack of response as a victory. With a sigh of relief, you allowed your body to relax in the seat and closed your eyes for the remainder of the ride.

Then, you felt something.

The brush of something on your thigh.

You opened your eyes to scope the scene, making sure you had not imagined the sensation; however, it seemed to be just that: nothing. The only thing positioned in your lap was your backpack filled with your books for the upcoming year. You closed your eyes and began to drift away once again. Maybe you were going crazy, you pondered. (Maybe you could blame your irrational behavior last night on such insanity. Would the insanity defense work for things like that, too?)

Then, you felt it again.

Without much hesitation, your eyes shot open once more. Only this time, you were met with the sight of a hand, decorated with several rings and chipped, black nail polish, situated comfortably, almost possessively, on your upper thigh. You peered toward Wanda's face, which was still facing the opposite direction, attempting to gauge her reaction. Yet, you saw nothing; her expression was rather unchanged, leaving you more confused than anything.

Before you could think about what to do about the situation, the bus drove over a mountainous bump on the road. You internally cursed the local government officials for the obstacle, for whether it occur by accident or intention, Wanda's hand flew directly into the apex between your thighs. Eyes widened in shock, your lips drift open as you gasp from the sensation.

It finally gave you the courage, however, to shove her hand away, but not without seeing the signature smirk she acquired in the process. Anger began to boil inside you. You repeated to yourself that it was because the brunette's touches were unexpected — not that she had been victorious. In the end, you just silently thanked yourself that you had chosen jeans, or else that could have ended much differently knowing the Sokovian.

Days turned into weeks, each bringing the routine of snide comments and less-than-playful banter between you and Wanda. You still had not found a way to enlighten Pietro about your issues with his sister (both the endless torment and... that night), given that (1) she was his twin sister and (2) she always seemed to be around. The cynical part of your brain believed that her unusual proximity was purposeful — she probably just wanted to see the fallout.

While the two of you had not gone further than your typical banter again over the past few weeks, though, you still felt incredibly agitated. (You chalked it up to anger because it definitely could not be the possibility of pent-up sexual frustration between the two of you.)

However, one day differed from the rest.

You noticed early in the day that Wanda was being extraordinarily quiet. Part of you was thankful, praying that her silence would continue until the end of the school day.

It was a Thursday in late October. Like most days, you followed Pietro to his home after school, venting to him about how you were excited it was Friday tomorrow because you were simply over all of the midterms being assigned and just wanted time to relax.

(You continued to ignore the underlying guilt that sat in the pit of your stomach from remaining silent about everything that happened with his sister weeks before; you attempted to ignore it even more by rationalizing your silence, stating it was "only one time" and a "mistake that would never even happen again.")

As you entered the house, Pietro immediately drops his bag on the floor and runs up to his room. You rolled your eyes at this typical, teenage-boy messiness, and opted to place your bag on the hooks that Agatha designated for such items.

Feet padding across the wooden floors, you wandered into your happy place of the home: the kitchen. You opened the fridge, looking for a small snack that could satiate your hunger until dinner. Finding nothing of interest, you closed the door. Your body jumps, though, at the figure that had been hiding behind it: Wanda.

The patience you once had had officially worn invisibly thin.

“What the fuck, Wanda? What do you want from me?” you asked exasperatedly, the energy you once had for such shenanigans having become completely depleted after a difficult week of school. "Listen, I don't know what I ever did to you for you to treat me like this, but I'm over it."

“Are you…” She started but quickly cut herself off. Her head tilted, trying to figure out if you really did not know the answer. You noticed the way her mouth opened and shut out of pure bewilderment; while you normally would make a comment about it in an attempt to tease her in return, you figured now was not the time. When Wanda found no evidence of lies in your expression, she continued to speak, “You really don’t remember, do you?”

You threw your head back, a chuckle escaping from the back of your throat, primarily due to the exhaustion caused by this long-awaited conversation. “No, Wanda, I don’t remember! If I had, don’t you think I would have apologized by now! Don’t you think that maybe, just maybe, I would have given you an “I’m sorry” so we could have avoided all of this? So that I would not have to deal with your bullshit for the past decade? So tell me, Wanda, what did I do to deserve this?”

“First day of school. Second grade. Recess," she spat out. Her words were so quiet but uttered with such venom.

Your brows furrowed in confusion at the seemingly random series of words, "What?"

She rolled her eyes, clearly frustrated with your lack of memories. While you could not remember what made her act this way, it had evidently stuck with her for years.

"It was my first day at this school," she began, her expression turning from red, hot anger into a stoic and collected nature. "Pietro and I had just moved to the States after losing our parents a few months before. Agatha was the only family member, albeit a distant family member, who was alive and willing to take us. So, we left everything behind and moved here."

You already knew the majority of this information, mostly after hearing it in brevity from Pietro. He had never truly talked about his time in Sokovia in depth, finding it distressing and uncomfortable to recall. You only discovered this one day when you both were 9, and you had followed him to his house after school for a play date. In a state of innocent curiosity, you asked him why he called (what you had assumed to be his mom) by her first name upon entering the house. He explained the basics, and that was the end of that. You understood and respected his quietness on the subject since then.

"Pietro has always been the better twin — better at school, better at sports, better at making friends. And, I'm just... me. So, he has always been better at the whole 'socializing' thing, even as an immigrant child with little knowledge of the States. Everybody seemed to like him, I guess. I, on the other hand, refused to talk... well, for the most part, at least. Anyway, on the first day of the second grade, my first day of school here, I was sitting on the edge of the concrete, picking at the grass."

She paused her speech, shifting her gaze to meet yours. "Then, this girl approached me. I thought, 'Wow, maybe I will have friends, maybe I will have friends and will finally be like Pietro.'” Wanda shook her head, shutting her eyes as if to remember each minute, each second, of that fateful day. Her accent was unconsciously growing thicker by the minute. “So, I greeted them, introduced myself like our mama had taught, and asked if they would like to play with me. You want to know what she did, Y/N?"

She opened her eyes, locking them with yours in a harsh stare. "'You talk funny,'" she hissed. "That's what the girl had said before running back to her group of friends. Truthfully, it's not even that deep of an insult, but it somehow spread like wildfire how the 'new girl' was abnormal, how she couldn’t even talk normally, how she was dirty with her dirty shoes and probably had fleas from her even dirtier home country, how no one could touch her or else they would be 'infected' by her."

“Why are you telling me this?” you stuttered out. “What does this have to do with you being a complete and utter bitch to me for the past ten years?”

Wanda huffed, “That girl was you, Y/N.”

Every breath you had suddenly left your chest. Your eyes widened, unsure of how to respond, “What?”

“You say I made your life a living hell? Bullshit. You ruined mine. You have everything I have ever wanted: friends, good grades… parents,” she said, her tone becoming soft with insecurity toward the end. “You even got my brother, my fucking twin brother! For fuck's sake! And yet, you still had to ruin my life."

"Wanda, I'm..." you began, but all of the words you have acquired in your seventeen years of life were failing you. "I'm sorry. I- I don't..."

This time, Wanda laughed, but it was not the depressed, low chuckle like before. No, this was something else entirely, a burst of maniacal laughter that indicated an unfound level of absurdity. Your eyebrows furrowed.

"'You don't' what, Y/N?" the brunette taunted.

You decided to be honest with her, "I don't know what to say."

"Of course not. 'Little Miss Perfect' never knows what to say when she finds out she's not so perfect after all."

Your sympathy gradually faded to the original anger you had been feeling. Your eyebrow involuntarily quirked, "Hold on, now... I never claimed to be 'perfect.'"

“Oh, please,” she replied, belittling your attempts to argue her predetermined notion of you. She began to mock you, “My name’s Y/N. I have the best grades in the entire school, all my friends love me, and, at night, my parents tuck me into bed and call me their little princess…”

Slowly but surely, your vision turned red. You stepped closer to Wanda, hoping the proximity would deter her from making additional snide comments about you.

“We all have our shit, Wanda,” you sneered. “You better quit now before I give you a reason to.”

She scoffed, “Oh, really? What are you gonna do? Tell mommy and daddy I…”

Her words were cut short by the placement of your lips on hers.

Truthfully, you were unsure of why you decided that this was the best course of action; perhaps your brain was simply shut off by the rage coursing through your body. Yet, that confusion did not stop you from continuing. In fact, it did not hinder either of you from continuing.

The kiss was forceful, containing all of the emotions you both have felt since that fateful night. Her mouth pushed and pulled roughly against yours; you returned the energy just as much. There were no thoughts, no rationality, behind both of your actions — only pure lust and passion.

Your hands started at her jaw but slowly drifted upwards toward the roots of her brown, messy hair, gripping and tugging at the strands. Parting from your lips for the first time in what must have been minutes, she released a moan from the sensation and continued to drift southwards toward your neck. As her teeth scraped at your pulse point, you were finally brought back to the reality of the situation.

You used the hands that were still threaded within her hair to pull her away from your neck; although, neither of you immediately stepped away from the other. You took the opportunity of your closeness to note how swollen her lips had become, how hot she looked under the dimness of the kitchen lighting.

"What are we doing?" you mumbled into the open air, not exactly expecting a response from the Sokovian in front of you.

She remained quiet, eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips. Her tongue darted out briefly, licking over her own lips in (what you assume to be, at least) preparation for more.

So, you seized the opportunity of her quietness to continue, "I'm not... I'm not perfect, okay? My parents... it's complicated. Sure, they're alive and whatnot, but... they don't care. Honestly, half of the shit I do — the grades, even — I do it so that they might finally pay attention. So, like I said, we all have our own shit to deal with."

Her lips parted, eyes stilled and staring into yours.

"And, l am sorry that that comment fucked you up as a kid. If I had known, even as a kid, I would've not said anything like that. I know I can't reverse time but..."

This time, her lips effectively ended your speech; however, the kiss was much softer than earlier, showcasing a newfound appreciation and, perhaps, feelings.

"I know," she acknowledged in a whisper after pulling away. "I'm... I'm sorry, too, by the way. I shouldn't have acted like that — it was cruel. We can talk more about it, about our... issues, later, but um- I just want to start over. Just us."

You nodded in affirmation, a blush flooding your cheeks.

"Just us."

The two of you sealed the agreement with a soft peck.

The sound of a glass shattering on the floor captured the attention of both of you, ending the kiss with the redirection of your heads in order to discover the culprit.

In the doorway of the kitchen, Pietro stood surrounded by broken glass splattered across on the wooden floor.

With widened eyes, you said the first and only thing that came to mind: "Oh, shi—"

End.

[nonbinarypirat]

physical affection and how it relates to iruma: part 1, parental touch

iruma reads as someone who is touch starved and doesn't like/understand touch until he now has affectionate people in his life. His parents have probably never touched him besides the required amount when he was a baby and maybe a headpat or quick hug (which would more than likely just be a manipulation tactic to get him to do their crazy schemes). They left him alone for days on end, there's no way they even could have been affectionate with him. And it's not like he ever went to school, his "friends" at school couldn't even remember him because of how many days he missed.

Overall, Iruma reads as touch starved but doesn't know he's missing it since he never had it to begin with. Here comes the love trio, the misfit class, Balam and more. Suddenly he has a lot of people in his life who are comfortable with touching him, even want to as a sign of how close they are. And we can see iruma very much becomes happy with it in turn.

That's why Balam and iruma's relationship is important, a parental type person he trusts is actively choosing to be affectionate with him, not to manipulate him but just because he cares about iruma. He even told him the reason is just to bond and get to know iruma, not some sort of underhanded method. This is just Balam's way of connecting. And they are close to each other enough to be comfortable in each other's spaces. Whether Iruma reads balam as a parent or not, balam is very much like a momma bird, keeping him close and safe in his arms. And Iruma becomes more open to it as time goes on with them knowing more about the other.

This is also a great dynamic because balam gives him the affection that he doesn't recieve from kalego, someone he clearly holds in high regard. Almost every time iruma reflects on the people that matter the most to him, kalego is there. which i find fascinating because what is kalego to iruma? on a subconscious level, i think he views kalego as a parental figure to him as well, one of the first to give him clear and concise rules to follow. his parents were just a fucking mess, they barely parented. never really taught him life lessons besides "just say yes" and "run." Kalego clearly cares a lot while also helping iruma navigate the netherworld making it easy for him to project a father role onto kalego

But kalego isn't an affectionate man from what we have seen. And even if he was, he is his instructor first and foremost so he may not feel comfortable being so with iruma (and also imagine the fucking annoying comments about favoritism from the other misfits LOL). Any touching has been fairly limited to him picking up Iruma like during the teacher dorm visits and Kalego's final hours as a familiar. Which honestly make these few scenes even more precious. Because he is actively choosing to be like this with Iruma. Affection does not come easy to Kalego like it does Balam. More than likely because of his upbringing and family beliefs (always needing to remain vigilant, dignified) and him as a person. So while he doesn't touch Iruma often, his one on one moments with him are extremely personal and parental in nature. And when he does interact with Iruma physically, the rarity adds to the specialness.

And then there's Opera. Opera has been especially more affectionate in the latest volumes with hand holding and hugs and all sort of touching. Which is very wholesome to see because Opera wasn't a character that had much of a strong relationship with Iruma at the beginning besides guarding him. I always got the impression that Opera didn't know how to feel about him, not to say they wouldn't protect him with everything they have. But the feelings and affection started up after the battler/batra Party when Iruma grabbed both Sullivan and Opera (though the care for him had been growing steadily before that). I have seen two main headcannons for their relationship, some see it more as a big sibling relationship while others see it as a parental one as well. For the sake of this post, I will be using it as a parent and child one.

Opera has been right there with Sullivan watching Iruma grow more and more confident as time goes on. And through Iruma growing up, we see how proud of him Opera is. From a scared child to a more bold child, Opera has helped cultivate this in him. I also love that whenever Sullivan isn't around, Opera takes over for taking care of him, allowing the two to have solo family time. Obviously their relationship is more of a weird dynamic seeing as how Opera is a security devil, but that doesn't stop the story from developing their relationship. The physical affection for the two is started from both sides, Iruma hugging Opera or Opera holding out their hand to hold as they walk home. In this case, their relationship is the most parent like as the story progresses.

And finally, we have Sullivan who is the most affectionate of the four. Come on, you can't beat grandpa when it comes to love and devotion to Iruma. He is the first one to introduce Iruma to physical affection in the first place. Now granted, in a slightly overbearing way at first because Iruma is not used to this and Sullivan is too happy to have a grandson. But now, we can see the genuineness behind each of his interactions with Iruma. He very much acts like a doting grandfather, and he really does love him too. Touching clearly comes more naturally to him so it's his way of showing Iruma love which opened the doors for more people in Iruma's life to show this too. When Iruma first started touching Sullivan back at the battler/batra party, it highlighted that Iruma is now more comfortable with Sullivan to do so back. He has been taught by Sullivan this way of caring and cares about him in the same way too. There's a lot of mutual love.

They have come a long way as a family unit. Sure, grandpa has always been Iruma's number one supporter, but at the beginning of the story it felt way too over the top? As the audience we were right there besides Iruma in feeling overwhelmed by Sullivan. This far into the story though, the emotional trust they have in each other is beautiful. They are no longer just two individuals thrown together by fate, they are two people who care about the other and their weird little family. And its even more wonderous when we think about Sullivan's past, having lost someone deeply close to him and has no way of knowing if he'll ever return (aka Delkira). From what we know, it seemed that Sullivan truly loved him like a son/grandson/family member and loosing him is still something he's grappling over. And yet, he was still able to create this, push through his pain to make a family with Iruma. He's not a replacement for what he lost, but somone he allows himself to care about in a similar way in the past. By pushing through the trauma, he has been able to give Iruma what he never had in his past life.

I see both Balam, Kalego, and Opera as parents who provide him with different styles of parenting (with grandpa also providing that but also being a "ill give you anything you want" guardian hehe). Through this, he can learn varied viewpoints and, more importantly to this post, the affection he never had as a child. Does it make up for never having grown up with it? No, it never could. But it's not about making up for what it lost, rather its about making new connections and love with what you have now. And displaying that love in small and bigger ways with touch.

[yanderederee]

MeetMyGang

April25th, 2004

a/n: Please enjoy!!♡ // BajixTutor!Reader series // ct:fluff

lol lowkey inspired by this behind-the-scenes clip of the live action actors having a push-up contest!

before › now! › after

Just after the events of Rooting for You!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

“Bring her by next meeting,”

Mikey ordered.

Baji sweat under the intense seriousness Mikey was radiating.

“It’s really not what you think, M-“ Baji tried to disagree, but Mikey simply wasn’t taking no for an answer.

This was an order, not a request.

“I just wanna meet her!” Mikey pouted. “Anyone who can get You to stop on a rampage is worth meeting.” Draken agreed, smirking at Baji. “It’s not everyday we get to see Baji Keisuke shy,” Mitsuya shoved Baji playfully. “She’s got to be a saint of some kind to put up with your stubborn ass!”

Baji groaned, glaring at each and every one of the Toman founders, who were simultaneously grinning wickedly back at him.

“I said, no.”

He was determined.

Everyone went quiet, and soon all eyes landed to the ominous aura in the air: all eyes on Mikey.

Baji wasn’t budging.

“Fine,”

Mikey shrugged, outwardly appearing indifferent. “Not like I can force you.”

And that was it.

The meeting ended.

That was way too easy.

Baji didn’t have a good feeling, when the room started to file empty.

“Good luck,” Draken, the last person in the room, had sighed, before leaving Baji in a cold sweat.

— April27th, 2004

“Hmm~mh-mm~”

Whisper

“Who is that guy?”

“I’m not sure, be looks like he’s waiting on someone…”

“He kinda looks.. like a delinquent, doesn’t he?”

“Well he’s driving a bike, so…”

“Maybe he’s waiting on a girlfriend?~”

“Don’t joke like that! Who would even…”

Whisper

“Yyy/nn-chinnn~ y/n-chin~” Mikey whistled to himself, scanning the ocean of student heads while he wait leisurely on his CB250.

Baji was PISSED.

“What is that guys deal?!”

“Who?” You asked, behind him like a little duckling.

“No one!” Baji bit back full force, practically red, trying to hide Mikey from your window viewing pleasure.

Barely taken aback, if at all, you hummed casually before shrugging. “Guess I’ll go find out ~” you gathered the last of your materials before pulling your bag neatly over your shoulder and starting your way towards the door.

“Wait!” Baji tried stopping you, but just as he reached for your hand to try and halt you, you did a quick sprint to the door, avoiding his touch. You grinned wickedly, yet so sweetly, actually, wait, what was with that giggle? He was so caught up in how cute you looked giggling at his bewildered expression, that he lost sight of you completely.

“Shit, wait, y/n!! “ he yelled, trying to make quick work to catch up to you. His glasses slid, the frames blocking his vision only for a moment, enough to make him bump against the door way in his quick pursuit.

“Damnit, Chifuyu!” Baji yelled, and up popped Chifuyu’s blond helmet. “Yes sir!”

“Don’t let Mikey get ahold of Y/n!” He ordered, and just like a good subordinate, Chifuyu clicked his heels. “GOT IT!”

As Baji and Chifuyu both went different directions, Ryusei couldn’t contain his laughter. “What the hell is going on?”

Just outside the school entrance, you snuck to-and-fro between mingling students to make sure you went unseen.

You were just curious after all. Baji never wanted to introduce you to any of his friends, and while it wasn’t like you two were dating, but you were curious about Baji’s personal life.

About his super cool biker gang friends!

You peeked a spying eye out past the gate, scanning the area to spot the culprit of Baji’s stress. It didn’t take long, given the low rumbling of an engine.

Biking boots.

Loose black trousers.

A white belt.

An oversized white v neck, shoulders covered with another school’s jacket. Not the same Tokyo Manji uniform you’d seen just the other day.

And as your gaze wandered to meet the face of this lazily dressed delinquent, you made direct eye contact with Manjiro Sano.

Your heart stopped. What kind of presence was this, that you were feeling? It felt like the wind had been knocked right out of you. Your lungs deflated and suddenly you were lightheaded. Were you holding your breath? Why couldn’t you breathe? Why was he looking at you so intently? Like you were—

“Y/n!” Whispered Chifuyu, bringing you back to reality.

But just before he got his hands on you, so had Mikey.

“Y/n-chin!~ there you are, I was looking for you!” Mikey laughed happily, his bike’s kickstand having been shoved in the ground with haste.

“Too late, shit-“ Baji hissed, just making it in time to witness Mikey holding your hands in his with glee. “C’mon, before your boyfriend snatches you away,” Mikey grinned at you, then glancing at Baji, who seemed to hear every word.

“You low hanging bastard! Don’t you dare—“ Baji started, but it was too late before Mikey was pulling you past your restrains- over and onto his bike, sitting in front of him.

“WHAT THE HELL!” School be damned, Baji couldn’t hide the hot rage that came from Mikey’s overstepping. But even when he tried reaching the two of you, Mikey was already throttling the gas.

The last thing Baji saw of you was your mildly worried expression.

“Seee ya~” Mikey laughed, so so very clearly amused, before riding away full speed.

“Mikkkeeeeyyyyy…” Baji was boiling over, further and further as the day went on.

Couldn’t he just respect one thing? One? Baji said no, No, damnit!

“Baji, we should follow them,” Chifuyu spoke, as though there wasn’t all hope lost. “C’mon.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

“‘The hells your problem, knock it off!” Baji yelled.

Everyone was just surrounding you— trying to get a look at Baji’s Girlfriend. Or, that was the rumor.

“Baji-San has a girlfriend?!”

“No way! She’s just his tutor!”

“But he brought her here! That’s strange!”

“It’s unlike Baji to bring someone…”

“Shh he’ll hear you!”

“I didn’t say anything wron—“

“QUIT WHISPERING I CAN HEAR YOU BASTARDS!”

Baji groaned. This was the worst.

Chifuyu had good intentions, bringing you around to get a better understanding of who Baji really was, the side of him you didn’t know anything about.

And now here you were in the heart of it, and you looked amazed.

“Is that a real tattoo?” You asked one of the guys, peeking when the thug drew back his sleeve to show it off. “No, fuck off.” Baji pushed past, taking you away from the crowd.

“H-hey! Baji,” you tried to argue, but he wasn’t having any of it. “Don’t care, we’re leaving.”

*reader begins using Baji instead of Kei/Keisuke while in front of his friends, to avoid being seen as disrespectful*

“Woah woah! Where’s the fire!” Smiled a nice looking boy with short hair and a cross earring. “You must be the famous Baji charmer,” he opened his hand to you, to which you shook politely. “Name’s Mitsuya, Mitsuya Takashi.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance Mitsuya-san, I don’t much about charming, but I do my best to keep Baji on top of classes.” You giggled.

Mitsuya paused, starring at you for a while, charmed. Quickly, he looked back up to smirk at Baji. “Lucky bastard.” He almost soluted before giving your hand a final squeeze, and backed off.

But you were a popular guest star, it was only a matter of time before you were swept away again. Much to Baji’s dismay. In the crowd of delinquents, it was getting hard to keep track of where you were being taken.

“Chifuyu, I’m about to lose it.” Baji informed, ready to throttle the next guy who put his hands on you. Chifuyu gulped. “J-just, hang tight boss!” He groaned, dreading the turn of events.

“I-is THAT a real tattoo?” You gasped, the next time you were spotted was with Draken, who was crouching for your convenience and chuckling at your bright eyed excitement. “I-is it a dragon? How cool!” You threatened to trace the ink outline.

“Ken Ryuguji, nice to meet you,” Draken had introduced himself, now standing up to full height.

“Wow, even your name means dragon? That’s kind of bad ass, right?”

Draken laughed, like you’d just said a hilarious joke. “It is bad ass isn’t it!” He laughed even harder. “She’s great, you should’ve brought her around sooner, Baji!”

And while Baji was off fuming, you stood there happily content.

“Hey, yaknow, I’m like, way stronger than Baji, right?” Mikey grinned, leaning in for a fake flirty gesture. Stalking you like a shadow, Mikey’s been having you make your rounds, all within his own supervision.

Mikey did find you rather adorable, after all.

Mikey liked the way you handled yourself, composed and confident in a crowd of scary looking thugs. He liked the way you respected them and treated them in a friendly manner. But Mikey really liked the way you smiled, the lovesick doe eyed puppy that adored Baji. He knew you and Baji were in the process of becoming an item.

But you weren’t yet, so he thought it no harm to pseudo flirt before Baji could have a valid reason to tell him off.

“I saw the way you kick! I was really impressed,” you praised him with an admiration. “Considering Baji is the strongest person I know, I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it.”

This seemed to light a fire in Mikey. “Oh no, take more than just my word. Baji! C’mere so I can kick your ass!” He joked loudly.

Baji was almost thrilled when he finally found you again. And what made it all the better was the way you jogged over to be by his side.

Your presence alone was enough to allow him catch his breath.

When he looked down at you to assess your comfort levels, what with being pawned around like a shiny new toy, he was released to see your carefree smile.

“I’m also way stronger than Baji, by the way.” Out spoke Pah, almost startling you.

“Oh really? Maybe we should test which one of us is the strongest!”

“Stupid~, I’m just gonna win! Don’t even bother,”

“Now that’s a challenge I think I’ll take you up on.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you guys!”

…

And that’s how you ended up refereeing Toman’s first official strength and endurance competition.

Between Mitsuya and Draken, you made sure both of them seemed prepared enough for your the starting signal.

“… Go!”

And in traditional arm wrestling fashion, the twin dragons fought with all their strength, gripping for dear life to not be the loser.

They had a good few seconds of beefing back and forth, but soon became obvious it was Draken’s game.

“No fair! No one can beat Kenchin at arm wrestling! This is rigged!” Mikey yelled from the sidelines, not eager to be the one to follow up.

Next in the lineup, they wanted to try push ups. All ready in position, in a line so everyone was visible.

It didn’t take them long to tire themselves out— only a few seemed like they never would stop.

“Just give it up Mikey, I ain’t losin’ to you!” Baji huffed out, still fighting Mikey’s childish need to win. “You’re just sayin’ that cause you’re getting tired~ I could keep this up for hours!” Manjiro quipped back with barely a huff of exertion at all.

All that remained was Mikey, Baji, Draken and Chifuyu. Though, just as they rounded off to the fifteen minute mark, Chifuyu practically lost consciousness. And Draken honestly started getting bored.

“This is fun ‘n all, but don’t you guys have better things to do?” Out emerged another girl, with long blond hair. A wide smile bloomed over your features when you saw her.

“W-wow, you’re like, really pretty… Oh! Um, s-sorry, hi, I’m–“ you tried to introduce yourself, but Emma already knew. “Y/n, yeah, heard lots about you just from passing through.” She held out her hand to you, smiling in unison.

You shook her hand happily, “So, is it true?~ Are you and Baji shacking up?~” she whispered with a grin. Your face heated up dramatically at her question and shook your head. “No! No, n-not like that! We just go to school together!” You defended.

“Hmm~ if you say so.” She let off. “I’m Emma, by the way. Mikey’s my brother, if you couldn’t tell.”

You blinked a few times, turning the idea in your head. “Oh, that makes sense! You guys do look alike!” You nodded, and looked over at Baji and Mikey still squabbling on how to settle the score.

“Oi! Come on! We ain’t got all night!” Draken called to them, now that he finally had his fill of the excitement. “Just settle it with a good ol’ fashion fist fight and be done with it!”

Both Mikey and Baji huffed out some kind of reply, to their feet. “I’m so going to kick your ass.” Baji glared at Mikey. “Oho~ I’d like to see you try.” Mikey grinned back.

“Are they always this competitive?” You leaned closer to Emma in inquiry. “Yes, literally all the time.” She replied quickly, a unanimous nod waving over all else who heard the question.

That made you smile.

Overlooking the petty little dispute, you couldn’t help but feel warm inside. Before, you’d only ever seen Baji with a mild temper, holding his tongue and being the voice of reason in some cases. His thick rimmed glasses hid half his face, and you’d have never guessed his hair was actually as long as it was with the way he tied it back.

You began to fall for him ever since you saw the way he took such good care of the injured kitten, barely a month ago. You began noticing the cracks in the character he played up, and found it cute. The way he would stifle curse words, diverting his ever growing tempter.

Until eventually he began also showing interest in you as well. Meeting you anytime you asked for his presence, gradually asking you more about yourself, and reassuring you about things you couldn’t control.

This, too, was Baji Keisuke. Hot tempered, brash, snarky, confident, handsome… you knew you liked Baji before you knew how he really got along. He was a gentle person underneath it all. He loved animals, just as they loved him back.

Would you have feared him, if you saw this side of him before meeting him in school? Surely not, you’d been surrounded by delinquents for the last hour, and felt no discomfort whatsoever. That had to mean something, right?

“You got this, Baji-san!!” Chifuyu yelled out, snapping you out of you day dream. Everyone was cheering all around you as the fight was in full swing. Push after hard punch, they were fighting for blood. It took you off guard at first, the blood, but this was normal for them.

A swift kick to the side of the head, a block to counter, Baji looped his arm around Mikey’s foot to falter his landing. Before he could meet the ground, Mikey used his palms to push off, and send his uninterrupted foot under Baji’s chin to clock him in an undercut fashion. That definitely had to hurt.

Yet they fought on. In amazement, you starred. With everyone else cheering, the hype of battle began building inside you, until you felt ready to burst. “I believe in you, Kei!” You yelled out. In front row, he definitely heard you. It felt embarrassing having a girl root for you so explicitly, but damn did it work to fuel the fight in him.

Baji grinned wide, regaining his composure. His next punch really hurt, you could tell. Mikey’s expression was a dead give away of that. “Damn, you really pack a punch whenever your girl’s involved,” he teased. “Maybe we should bring her around more often.”

“Try it,” Baji bit back, taking the initiative. The two have sparred so much in their life, they could read each other’s moves easily. And Baji knew Mikey was losing on purpose.

Sure, losing to Baji left a bad taste in his mouth, losing in front of you tasted even more bitter. But at the end of the day, Mikey knew Baji really cared about you. He would have chances in the future to sweep you off your feet and let you reconsider who you liked best. But for now, he wouldn’t dare ruin the glow of excitement that lit up that cute face of yours.

“Winner! Baaajiii!” Draken’s voice rang with a roaring hoot. All of Toman hooted back in response, all in good fun. Mikey could afford losing petty fights in front of his subordinates every now and again. He was still The Invincible Mikey, and he’d be sure to whip anyone who actually questioned that standing.

You jumped in excitement at the declaration, clapping for your classmate. “Way to go Kei!!” You called out happily.

Baji knew he won by default, but he didn’t really care to rebuttal the outcome. Not when you looked so happy. He grinned at you and rolled his eyes. “Had it in the bag,”

“Mmhm~ good fight.” Mikey chuckled past the two of you. “Meeting adjourned!”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

“See you ‘round!” Called out another Toman member, zooming past on their bike. You waved back politely, standing back while Baji worked on getting his bike ready to go. “Y/n~!” Emma caught your attention, hugging you warmly. “Nice to meet you, make it home safe, kay?” She smiled.

You smiled back. “I’ll be sure to do that! Make it home safe!” You waved her off when she hopped onto the back of Mikey’s bike. “Don’t be a stranger~” Mikey called back with a wide grin and a wave.

Baji rolled his eyes, and roared his engine. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back home.”

You paused, worried. “Don’t you usually drive home with Matsuno?” You asked. Chifuyu grinned and patted your back. “Sounds weird having you call me that, just call me Chifuyu, alright?”

“And second, don’t sweat it! I can walk home just fine.”

You gave a weary look. “Well, if you’re sure..” you said uneasily. “Hop on,” Baji encouraged, leaning the bike to one side so you could get on easier.

A few attempts later, you only managed to get yourself situated onto the back of the bike by using Baji’s shoulder for leverage.

Holy shit, Baji only just realized. You were so close. Way too close. Chest pressed flush to his back, you shakily gripped the sides of his uniform. He could feel you breath against the back of his neck.

Your legs felt weird being so close to the hot metal of the exhaust pipe, but Baji assured you it was probably safe.

(*please wear a layer of fabric to separate your skin from touching exhaust pipes/bike motors! It can in fact burn you if you are not careful!)

“Don’t worry so much, you’re fine. You rode on Mikey’s bike just a while ago, right?” He tried reassuring you when he started for takeoff.

“Y-yeah but I was sitting in front that time!”

“You want to sit in front now?” He joked.

“Can I?”

“No, that’s dangerous as hell.”

You laughed. “Then why’d you ask?”

“It was radical.” He rolled his eyes. “Rhetorical!” You yelled back.

“Whatever.”

[thir10th]

ciao, bella! - Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

summary: you love your polyglot girlfriend TW: smut, oral sex, dirty talk, language kink (i don't actually speak Italian so i apologize for any possible mistakes), hair-pulling, i think that's it A/N: requests are welcome! i still have some drafts to finish first tho. Like and reblog, any kind of feedback is greatly appreciated! <3

The hours seem to pass so slowly when there's nothing you can do.

You're sitting on one of those uncomfortable chairs on that bullpen, a cup of coffee running cold on your hand. Staring at te board with all the names and pictures, you were starting to memorize it.

Morgan and Emily enter the room, the main suspect handcuffed and struggling to get away from Morgan's hard grip. Emily takes er bulletproof vest off to enter the interrogation room, you and Hotch following behind. She happened to be the only one who spoke italian on the team, so this one was hers.

You had profiled the unsub as the classical sexist, misogynist, scared of women over 130 pounds, or like you liked to call them- the unresolved mommy issues type.-

Your girlfriend was gonna eat him up alive, and you could not be more proud.

Morgan and Emily enter the room, he tells him to sit down, which he does seem to understand. Hotch and you watch the scene from the other side of the glass, your eyesnever leave Emiy, she carefully reads the file, in complete silence, making him nervous, until she starts speaking.

You certainly weren't expecting it, although you should've. It wasn't the first time you heard her speak other languages. Arabic, Russian, even Spanish, she always sounded so smooth, mysterious even, but there was just something about this exact moment, the way she challenged him, antagonized him, it was easy to tell she had complete control of the conversation despite that you could not understand a single word of what nether of them was saying.

Your braking point is when they start an argument, you cant really tell what it's about but she shoots from her seat, hitting the table hardly with a strong hand, you excuse yourself. You had to get out of there if you wanted to be able to finish the day.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

it takes you less than a second when she closes the door of your shared hotel bedroom behind herself, to wrap your arms around her waist, connecting your mouth to hers, pushing her body against the door.

"wow, not that I'm complaining but, what's got you all riled up?" she asks, a big smile on her face, the second you separate to catch your breath

"nothing... it's just..." you doubtfully say, her eyes scanning you, going from your eyes, to your lips, back to you eyes, both of you heavy breathing into each other.

"c'mon, spit it out" she says, leaving soft pecks on your lips to get you to talk

"just you, your voice" you confess "you know... when-"

"you like hearing me speak Italian?" she finishes for you, grabs you by your waist, and switches places with you, now she's pushing you against the door, running her hands down your back, reaching your ass giving it a gentle squeeze which makes you jump in your place.

"a little bit" you admit. Emily grins, cocky and gorgeous, she slips her hand into your pants and underwear, running two gentle fingertips up your center, collecting your slit, she shows you her hand, a proud smile on her face, you squirm underneath her touch

"this doesn't look like a bit to me" she kisses your cheek, your neck, you bring your lips to hers, your tongue slipping over her lower lip, in the desperate attempt that she’ll grant you access "Questo è quello che volevi?" you cannot control the moan that escapes your lips, her voice is soft, smooth, it makes you feel things, you kiss her again, this time she complies, granting you access.

She pushes you even harder against the door, her free hand finds its way underneath your shirt, you're not wearing a bra which gives her free access, she lets her fingers dance over your sensitive nipples, your breath becoming quicker with each passing second. “Please, Emily, I-” you got cut off as she sharply took one of her nipples into her fingers and twisted it, the pain quickly turning into pleasure

"what's that? or, should i say che dici?" you can't form any coherent words, you just let out a deep breath, grabbing you by the waist, she forces you onto the bed, her hips aggressively sitting on top of yours

"aww, la mia bambina è nervosa perché le piace che parli italiano?" she's loving the teasing, she loves making you nervous but mostly she loves how worked up she's getting you with only a couple of words.

She placed soft kisses all over your breasts, her lips wrap around your nipple, licking the rosy bud, her teeth softly tugging and nipping the sensitive area, you moan in pleasure.

Finally, she moves her mouth down, placing soft kisses all over your stomach, filling it with butterflies. She unbuttons your pants, aggressively taking off your underwear with them.

Even though you had her exactly where you wanted her, she was still too clothed. You pull on her shirt, hoping to get the message across, as your mind was all nice and fuzzy, she just put her hands up, so you could clumsily remove her shirt, leaving her in her bra and workpants.

"Em, please, just please" you cry desperately for her to finally finish what she started. You moan out as she forcefully shoved a finger up your dripping pussy, licking a strap long of your slit.

"ti piace questo tesoro?" you know you're in for a long ride, now that she knows that you like her Italian, she will be taking advantage of it, not that you're complaining, obviously.

"I don't understand a word of this, but it's working" you say, closing your eyes in pleasure,  your hands pulling on her hair, in a desperate attempt to pull her closer to where you needed her the most.

She was going slow just lapping up your juices, her tongue enjoying the taste of you, how drenched you were. Her lips finally met your clit, licking over the bundle of nerves, sucking the hardened bud.

"Oh fuck, yes baby don't stop" She began fucking you faster and harder, using her fingers, loving the wet sounds your pussy was making around them. Her fingers curled at the perfect spot inside you making your eyes roll back into your head. Her mouth sucking on your clit, her fingers drilling roughly into your pussy was bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Please, Em, I'm going to-"

"andiamo tesoro, puoi venire" you can only assume that's her way of approving, you came all over her mouth, her fingers, she lets you ride your high, and then collapses over you, laying on your side.

You open your eyes and see her laying next to you, playing softly with a strand of your hair, you need to catch your breath before you can return the favour.

"Who would've said that it would only take me speaking Italian to make you this horny ugh?" she asks, a playful grin on her face.

"It's just something about the accent i think, or maybe just the way you sound, i don't know, but you looked so sexy in the interrogation room today" you try to explain

"Well lucky for you, i'm fluent" you move to kiss her lips

"however there's someone else who can also speak Italian, right?" your mouth falls open when you realize what she means "OH! No, Emily! Why did you have to bring Rossi up now? You're ruining it" you close your eyes trying to erase that image from your head, Emily giggles "I'm sorry! C'mon, Scusa, amore mio, ti amo" she kisses you cheek, your lips, your face "Ok that one i know what it means" you hold her face in your hands, trapping her lips between yours, kissing her in return, her voice and herself the only thing on your mind again.

"C'mon baby" you straddle her hips "It's your turn, tesoro"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

[boba-beom]

౨ৎ babydoll || CHOI BEOMGYU

pairing: beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: drabble; fluff, smut

summary: you spend the evening of valentines day watching barbie with your sweet boyfriend until he makes a dirty joke. you may need to rewatch the last half of the movie again later.

wc: 2.2k

a/n: this is my 2/2 entry for @matchaxmatcha's valentine's event <3

warnings under the cut!

warnings: pw little plot, established relationship, physical affection, they're just giggly :< beomgyu's silly and says a dirty joke, switch!service top!beomgyu, switch!leaning subby!reader, quick oral (fem!receiving), nipple play, intimate but messy sex, light biting, PRAISE PRAISE PRAISE, petnames; (baby, doll, princess, good girl, my girl, honey, my good boy, pretty boy, mommy, sweet cheeks), beomgyu takes a dirty picture, indirect breeding kink, not proofread >//<

he dim lights from the lamp shades situated in each corner of the bedroom had set the mood for the rest of the evening—movie in bed with your beloved boyfriend who agreed to watch the barbie movie with you.

it was easy to get comfortable after a long day, as long as yours and beomgyu's skinship is present, then you'll get huddle together with ease in no time. you're positioned leaning your back against the headboard and he's between your legs—his head resting on your lower abdomen like his personal pillow and his broad shoulders under you legs while he watches intently.

that is, until he said something that caught you completely off guard.

"baby, wanna hear a joke?" you could hear the smug smirk on his voice through his tone.

"go on then."

you let him continue speaking while your fingers loosely played within the strands of his hair, watching his strands slip through as he turns his body around, propping his weight on his elbows and lifting his chin above your lower abdomen.

you notice the way his eyes dilate while looking up at you, making you just as intrigued to hear what he had to say. you just knew it was nowhere near pg-13.

his hands find their way to your hips from under your things, massaging his thumbs ever so lightly on the area. a soft smirk plays on his lips before he speaks.

"let's play dolls. i'll be Ken and you can be the box I cum in." his voice was deep and it lingers.

you'd usually slap his shoulder or playfully shove him off of the bed had it not been for your core throbbing just from the thought of being filled up by your beloved.

you never turned it down because you knew you wanted it just as bad. you're down if he's down.

"you're too smug about that one, honey." your breath quivers from the sensation of beomgyu's fingers lifting your baggy tee, exposing more of your skin on your tummy.

"it was good though, wasn't it?"

he looks up at you with puppy eyes, waiting for some form of a definite answer from you.

"c'mon then, you gonna be my good boy? thought you wanted to cum in me." a mischievous smile gradually appears on your lips as you hold eye contact with the beautiful man between your legs.

the movie had been long forgotten, the volume turned down a little so you could hear how you would react to each other's lingering touches. subtle lights shifting and illuminating your face for him as the scenes behind him continue.

beomgyu had already pulled your shorts down your legs and threw it aside to land on a random spot on the floor. having your cunt bare in front of him had the both of you blushing, regardless how many times you've fucked.

"oh baby, your pussy's so pretty." he coos, swiping a thumb through your folds then retracting his thumb and watching the string of your arousal stretch until it disconnects.

you hear a moan in the back of beomgyu's throat. his eyes were glued onto the sight, ultimately fascinated every single time. he repeats the action a couple more times, brushing against your clit a little higher each time to spread your slick around your pearl, still maintaining his feathery touches.

"f-fuck, beom—" your breath hitches in your throat and your fingers toy with the top of the comforter. "it tickles."

beomgyu huffs, amused at the sight. "yeah? want more tickles baby?"

you nod your head, pouting your lips with your pupils blown out.

"wan' your tongue," you whine, "always makes me feel good."

that was something your boyfriend always loved to hear. he thrives off of pleasing you, wanting you to feel good. and you giving him the green light turned a switch in him to dive into your pussy like he's been starved.

you take your shirt off, head thrown back a little once his lips latch onto your puffy pussy, having your chest heave as his tongue works slowly on your clit. you feel his thumbs stretching your lower lips, lifting his head and you watch a dollop of spit onto your core, feeling it trickle from your clit to your hole.

you loved that beomgyu was messy with you, that's one thing you never get tired of. the sounds of his saliva mixed with your slick paired with the sensation of his tongue messily lapping up and repeating, spitting again until you're all lubed up with a mixture of both your bodily fluids.

"you taste too good, but imma fuck this pretty pussy until it's molded for my dick, hm?" beomgyu sits up with his lips and chin glistening from where the light hits his face,

after he's pulled his shorts off he's immediately fisting his shaft, the head of his penis passing as a matching accessory with his lips, glistening in the dim lighting.

"yes gyu, my pussy's only for you." you gasp when he prods your clit with the head of his cock, sliding it against you. the warmth made your head hazy, just wanting him to bury it deep inside you.

"you've been a good girl for me haven't you?" he coos, hovering above you as he planks his hand on the space by your shoulder.

"'m always a good girl, can you be a good boy and fuck me now?" you place your thumb and index finger beneath his chin, guiding him to your lips you give him a chaste kiss.

though beomgyu's fisting his dick, he slows down as it throbs in his palm from the pet name. as much as he loves his dominant side, all of that crashes when you coo and praise him.

he loves being your good boy.

"fuck, mommy, gonna make you feel so good." beomgyu whimpers.

his mouth latches onto your nipple, twirling his tongue around the hardened bud while your hand is cupping and squeezing the other. he lets go with an audible pop making the both of you giggle together until he trails up your chest with wet kisses, letting his teeth nip your sensitive skin by the crook of your neck.

"shit gyu," you shakily exhale.

he was too far gone with skimming his teeth over areas of your neck, nipping and lightly sucking those areas for you to admire the marks when you look into the mirror in the morning.

"don't worry princess, just admiring your body before I fill you up." his voice a little gruff by your neck and he kisses your lips, biting your bottom lip for your tongue to meet his. you could taste remnants of your arousal on his tongue and it has you smiling.

you love how filthy your boyfriend is, lucky that you were able to spend valentine's evening with the man you call the love of your life. it took you so long for him to open up to you, in terms of getting comfortable with your sex life.

once he found out how much of a freak you are in bed, he never held back in making you feel so good, giving you that princess treatment because you deserve it.

beomgyu sits back on his knees again, back to slowly stroking his dick, aligning the head with your sweet hole that's been squeezing nothing for the past few minutes.

"wan' you deep inside me beommie." the call of his nickname has him plunging deep into your pussy, sliding in nicely after doing a good job slicking you up.

"fuck, so wet and warm f'me," he goes back to littering kisses by your neck. "you alright?"

his pants were contributing to how wet he was making you, the lewd sound of his hips slapping the back of your thighs had your eyes rolling back.

"can feel you deep inside me, shit." you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him close to kiss him.

"'m making you feel good, doll?" he mumbles by yours lips before capturing your lips and swallowing your moans.

"mhm, harder gyu." you moan against his lips, "making me feel so good."

another praise, another rush of adrenaline has him thrusting harder and picking up the speed and drilling into you until the sound was consistent. he had your whole body jolting upwards while he had a hold on your hip and the other behind your neck.

"ugh princess, you're clenching me already?" he teases, pinching your hip lightly.

he makes you laugh then it morphs into a moan when he bucks his hips particularly harder at a random point.

"you feel so good inside me baby, oh– just wanna be full of your cum."

that almost tips your lover over the edge. you turn your head so you could kiss the area just by the corner of his jaw, behind his ear. you reciprocate the skinship kisses, leading a trail along the column of his neck and nipping and sucking here and there. it'd be a shame to not leave a single mark on his beautiful skin.

"keep talking to me like that," he moans, throwing his head back with is dampened bangs sticking on his forehead.

"mm, my sweet, sweet baby's gonna give me his big load, isn't that right?" you coo directly in his ear, teeth ever so lightly grazing on the shell of his ear.

"yes, yes, yes~ gonna fill you up 'till you're leaking throughout the night." his whimpers sends chills down your spine, words cannot describe how obsessed you are when he switches.

"yeah? you close?"

he nods desperately, doing his best as he pistons you without faltering.

"do it, cum in me like you said baby. my pretty boy's gonna give me his big load." you egg on his orgasm, and it only took your praises and sweet talk to push him over the edge.

you could feel his cock pumping his thick seed inside you, refusing to still his hips and make you cum too. he shudders as he continues to thrust into you, knowing that he'd hit your precious sweet spot when he heard you gasp and your moan cut off in your throat.

beomgyu's back to kissing your neck and shoulders, this time more tenderly, but still sloppy and wet. he'd look at you for a second, admiring the way you're glistening in the dim light.

"god, you're so perfect aren't you, pretty girl?" he's fallen in love with you again. and he'll continue to love you regardless.

"fuckkk, beommie, gonna cum, gonnna cum!"

you whine, feeling the tight sensation in your stomach about to snap. beomgyu's overstimulated and your pussy clenches down on him tighter than before, milking his dick with his second load that night,

"shit baby, 'm right there with you. that's my girl."

both of your moans are in perfect harmony, his arms wrapping around your torso with no space left between your sweaty bodies. heard in the room were ragged breaths as he slows down, noticing the way your legs shake from his shallow thrusts.

"dick's so good it almost had me crying." you brush your hair away from your face, wiping one eye dramatically.

"then maybe next time I should fuck you harder until you're sobbing, how about that?" beomgyu has a stupid smirk on his face, but you love it so much.

"you already know, sweet cheeks."

you pull him down to you again, hand at the back of his neck as you give each other a tender kiss, separating with an audible smack.

the sensation of beomgyu sliding his softening dick out made you shiver, watching the way he reaches over to the bedside table for his phone.

"wanna keep this as a memory," he says, opening up his camera app and switching on the flash. "gonna keep this in my wallet and look at you when I'm having a hard day."

you hear the camera shots, and he takes pictures with his tongue sticking out slightly, concentrating on getting the best angle to see your bare body, legs wide and his cum mixed with your fluid leaking from your cunt.

his words made you blush, though this wasn't the first time you and beomgyu have taken filthy pictures together, this one had more meaning held with it.

"the picture's temporary, baby, but just know I'll be here to make your hard day even better." you manage to sit up, despite the ache between your legs, and wrap your arms around his torso to give him a side hug while you both examine the photos together.

"I love you princess, I love coming home to you every day." beomgyu says softly, putting down his phone to hold your face and kiss your temple.

"I love you too gyu," you briefly squeeze him, "but I'm gonna have to rewatch barbie again, properly."

"I wanna know what happens too." he pouts, almost looking offended you didn't include him.

"no baby, I won't concentrate and you'll end up fucking me again." you imitate his pout and whiny tone.

he chuckles, biting back a grin. "yeah, but you'd love that."

you join him, nudging him and mirroring his grin that he's holding back.

"always. always gonna love that."

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© BOBA-BEOM ; all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, alter or translate in any way or platform.

[shinybearnerd]

"Healing Wings"

GOOD OMENS SEASON 2! SPOILER WARNING! IF YOU DID SEE IT YET, DO NOT INTERACT!

Hi!

So, I'm a mess since I finished the new season.

I tried to cope by writing something (since I'll be pretty busy for all of August). And this is the result.

Justice for my boy! He deserved his happy ending.

I wanted to thank everyone that send me requests. As I said before, I'm a bit busy but once I'll have some time, I'll write. Promise.

Enjoy!

Pair: Crowley x reader

(Hints of: Aziraphale x reader, Aziraphale x Crowley, Aziraphale x reader x Crowley)

Words: 2,8k

Genre: Smut +18, fluff and angst

Story: when Aziraphale goes away to become the archangel in heaven, Y/n and Crowley find themselves alone. They both with a feeling of abandonment. As they lean on each other for support, their relationship blossoms deeper.

English is not my first language. I'm sorry if there're any mistakes.

The ride to your house is quiet.

You don't remember much about what happened earlier. You only recall screaming at Aziraphale for deciding to go away and leaving you and Crowley alone. His eyes were covered in tears.

     << Y/n, I can- >>

     << Do not fucking bother! Go on. Go play with your little mates. Is what you wanted after all, right? >> You cut him off, returning to Crowley.

The demon looks at the scene inside the car. He doesn't hear what you are saying but can imagine by the looks of you and the angel. He even doesn't say anything about it once you step inside the car. He only starts the engine and begins to drive.

Once you arrive, you convince Crowley to come inside without effort. Once you lock the door behind you, you see him. Sitting on the sofa. He stares blankly in front of him. Or at least you think so. He didn't take off his glasses or have any intention to.

You walk towards him without saying a word. When you take your first step, it seems like he only notices your presence at that moment.

You walk to him. Crowley's gaze fixed on you, making you feel exposed.

You're now in front of him. You try to say something, but he makes the first move by hugging your legs and placing his head on your stomach. He's tired. You both are.

You remain like this for a few minutes. You caress his red hair and try not to cry, as he enjoys your touch.

He then looks up at you.

You're starting to feel a particular jolt invading your body. Something that grows deeper when the demon stands up and obscures you with his height.

He takes your chin, his thumb exploring your lips. He then kisses you. It's a needy one. A desperate one.

You start to undress one another, but when you try to take his glasses, he freezes.

     << I... I prefer to leave them on. >>

Once Nina and Maggie get out, you pop out from your hiding spot.

Crowley hears your movement but doesn't say a word. Too scared about your reaction to actually do something. 

He listens. Listen to the way your clothes sound when they rub against each other. Listen to your increased heartbeat and your hitching breath, wishing he could feel it against his skin while-

     << Is it true? >> You finally take some courage.

Crowley physically can't turn to look at you, like something is blocking him. But he manages to stand up and put on his glasses. And suddenly, he feels like he can at least try.

When he turns around, your heart sinks a little.

     << No, please... >>

     <&lt; What? >>

You try to reach, but he takes a step behind, trying to have some space between you two.

     << You know that you don't need those >> you point at the black lenses << when you are with me. We've already been through this. Remember? >>

     << I would like to keep them on. If you don't mind. >>

You sigh, knowing that he's too stubborn to listen. So you ask again, trying to look into his eyes. << Is it true? >>

The demon doesn't respond.

     << It's pretty easy, Crowley. It's a "yes" or "no" answer... >>

Your voice seemed calm and amused by all of this, trying to ease the mood. But every fibre of your body tried to remain calm and not rush things.

Something was still blocking him. His pride, maybe. Or even the fear of you rejecting him. He doesn't know which.

     << I'm sorry... I-I can't. >>

He tries to exit the bookshop, but you stop him.

     << Where are you going? Hold on! Why can't you say it? What's wrong? >>

     << Because-... Fuck! >>

He walks in the room, stomping his feet like a wild horse that's been caught and imprisoned. He's trying to focus on something that isn't you and elaborate a clever way out. He's a demon, after all. He's the master of lying.

He can do this.                                                                                                    But once he turns to look at you, he suddenly can't lie to you anymore.

     << Because it's true, Y/n! There. I said it! >>

Your heart is bursting, but you let him talk first. You feel like he needs to.

     << You don't understand how you made me feel in all these years we knew each other! I only thought that Aziraphale would be the lo... >> he sighs, trying to calm himself by rubbing his eyes. << But then you came along. So full of life and wonder, and it j-just... happened!- >>

In the beginning, he's doubtful. The poor devil thought that was an act of pity towards him, but once he comprehend that you're not going to leave soon, he deepens it. A rush of emotions adds to the kiss. Passion, desperation and relief. All put in Crowley's kiss, who is touching and hugging you like you'll disappear.

You don't even spend time saying something. You've already waited enough.

With big steps, you end your distance. You take the demon's sunglasses with one hand while the other takes the head, smashing your lips together.

You start to caress each other. Your hair, your back, your arms... All you two can reach has been touched and loved.

     << Please tell me this is not a dream and that I'm not gonna wake up in the Bentley with a boner... >> he whispered on your lips between a kiss and another.

You smirk against his mouth while pressing yourself towards him.

     << I don't know about the dream, but I hope this isn't something you have in your pocket. >> You replied, touching his clothed erection.

The demon growls, squishing the flesh of your hips under his fingers.

     << You're playing with fire, doll. >>

His pushes are erratic and hopeless. Like he can release all that pain he's feeling.

But suddenly his pushes stop. You feel his hold tightening as he's afraid to lose you too. Little and muffled sobs start to fill the air as the demon tries to hold you as close as possible.

     << Crowley? >>

You caress his head, trying to escape his grip to look at him.

     << I'm sorry... >> he muffles in tears.

His head is against your chest. Tears are starting to wet your skin.

     << Hey... No, no, no. Hey, look at me. Please, look at me, Crowley... >>

You take off his glasses. Once you look at his eyes, your stomach tightens. His eyes are full of sorrow, ache and distress. And it all makes you feel awful. It's like you can't do anything to make him feel better...

You manage to take his face in your hand. You voluntarily start to caress his cheeks with your thumbs while you look into each other's eyes. And what you see breaks your heart.

Crowley's lips are a little parted, quick breaths leaving and entering his mouth. His cheeks are starting to get wet too. The eyebrows narrowed in an expression of pain. 

The demon makes a face, like he has something to say about that, but you don't give him the chance.

     << I-I'm sorry. I should not... >>

He tries to avoid eye contact. 

     << No, hey... Hey. It's okay, darling. It's not your fault. >>

     << But it is! >> He finally looks at you. << If I wasn't the way I am, maybe Aziraphale- >>

     << Do not dare finish what you are about to say! >> You snap.

Your voice is trembling with anger and pain. How could he think that?

<< I don't know what that idiot was thinking. But he shouldn't have said that! And mostly, you mustn't even consider that! How could you even think that there's something wrong with you? That you're the messed up one?

<< Every time I look at you, I fall in love with you even more. I love everything about you! How you say that you're evil and not nice after saying or doing the sweetest and most beautiful things that even an angel can't do! You are infinitely better than a legion of angels. Aziraphale included. >>

     << Aziraphale does not define you, my love. I know that it fucking hurts. Him choosing heaven over us hurt me, and I can't imagine how heartbroken you must feel right now... But he had no right to tell you to change for him. Love is not like that. Love is not changing the other person. Love is feeling like you own the fucking world! Like you've been struck by lightning every time you see them... Love is supposed to make you feel like this. >>

You take his hand and place it against your chest. Your heartbeat is accelerated. The demon can feel it under his hand and thinks it's the most beautiful music he's ever listened to in centuries. 

Your eyes lock one last time. Every limb of your body is linked to the other, trying both be close.

You discover that you're crying once Crowley slowly slides his hand from your chest, then to your neck and to one of your cheeks, wiping the tears from your skin. He then cups your head with both hands, leaning closer to kiss the new tears forming. Your eyes are closed. You try to enjoy this moment that you indulge with the other. You put your hands on Crowley's wrists, rubbing them with your thumbs. Suddenly you feel something odd.

     << You have a heartbeat... >>

You open your eyes only to see that Crowley is already looking at you.

Under your fingers, you can feel his fast heartbeat.

     << I didn't know you had one. >>

     << In your defence, I didn't tell you... >> replied, starting to wander his hand along your hips. He felts like the luckiest entity in the entire universe.

     << Is it supposed to be this rapid? >>

You see him smile a little, then look at your eyes.

     << Didn't you say that love was supposed to feel like that? >>

Crowley leans closer, one hand on your hair. Once your lips meet, you feel fireworks spreading all over you. The demon's lips are so soft against yours. Kissing you with gentleness as if you were made out of porcelain.

You blush and smile.

He does the same. The first real smile after Aziraphale's departure, even if it's little.

His trusts are slow but deep.

Then, he slips the other hand around your hips, bringing you close as he thrusts deep inside you. A moan dies in your mouth.

Crowley smirks a little before he resumes kissing you. His hands are both on your hips as he's helping you move.

Your eyes are locked as your messy breaths get mixed. Sometimes you kiss, but you prefer to look at each other. You can't explain why. You just feel a deeper connection between you. Like you are making love with your souls too.

-.-.-.-.-.-

You continue moving without saying a word. Smiling, touching, squeezing and scratching (on your part) one another.

And when you come, it's like you feel complete and truly loved.

Your foreheads touch as you start panting and giggling. 

Moments before, after you got dressed, you asked your favourite demon if he could pick a movie while you were calling your favourite takeaway restaurant.

     << What are you doing? >>

Crowley quickly turns towards you. A pillow is still in his hands.

Once the call ended, you saw his figure walk the hallway one last time before disappearing. You came to understand that he went outside, in the garden. You decide to sneak out and follow him.

As you were talking with one of the staff, in the corner of your eye, you could see Crowley walking the hallway front and back multiple times. Different things in his hands every time he passed in front of you.

You were so curious and amused that you almost forgot you were ordering food.

Under the moon's soft light, you can see that the grass is covered with blankets and pillows. Over them, there's a bottle of wine and two glasses; while the outside was filled with battery candles.

You can't move or form a single sentence. Your mouth, on the other hand, is curved in the most beautiful smile the demon has ever seen.

Crowley's now looking at you. A nervous smile on his lips.

     << Surprise!>> He throws the pillow on the blankets with the others. << Do you like it? >>

     << I-I... don't know what to say.>>

He walked closer, putting his hands on your hips. << I thought we'd have a post-love-making/little night picnic date under the stars. I figured it'd be nice to talk about the constellations and all that celestial stuff you enjoy while we get drunk. >> he smugly smirks as he hears your chuckle.

-.-.-.-.-.-

With a snap, the two glasses get filled. Crowley passes you one. << What do you say? >>

     << I'm all yours.>>

He smiles at you and kisses you passionately.

     << You know... I've always wanted to ask something. >>

You two have just finished eating and are now on the blankets, cuddling and trying to get drunk.

     Crowley has spent all dinner talking about the stars. He also told you about his time as a nebula creator. You could see a sparkle in his eyes as he spoke. Some sadness behind it, too. Even if he tried to hide it.

Crowley was amused by all of this.

     << Shoot. >>

     << What's it like having someone making up stories about your work? You know, the constellations and so on... >>

     << Oh. Well... I don't mind. It's like reading- What is that you read... Ehm... -Yes! Fanfiction. It's like reading a fanfiction. I don't mind. >>

     You chuckle, a little flustered. << I don't read fanfiction! >>

     He brings the glass to his lips. << Oh yes, you do! Every time I see you with your phone and reading something, you always giggle and kick your feet- >>

     << How dare you! I do not! >>

     << Oh, yes, you do! >>

You laugh. Your face turn all red by now. << You liar! >>

You both chuckle and lean against the other. The demon's free hand is now running up and down your arm. His head is on yours as he leaves a kiss.

     << Thank you. >> you said, breaking the silence. << I loved all of this. >>

Crowley smiles, proud of himself. << Glad you like it. >>

He put his glass near yours and made them touch. A little high-pitched "tin" followed after. << To the perfect night. >>

     << But I have to admit... >> You continue, teasingly raising an eyebrow. << you seemed flustered when I found you setting all up.>>

     &lt;< Flustered? Me? Nonsense!>>

You chuckle, leaning in to peck him on the cheek. Your affectionate gaze never leaves his.

He couldn't help but smile, feeling a warmth in his heart that had nothing to do with the wine. 

     << Jokes aside, you know how to make a moment last forever.>>

Crowley looks at the wine in his glass. A soft and smug smile on his face.

     << Well, I must admit, this wasn't originally on my plan... >> he confesses.

     << What do you mean? >>

Crowley shifted slightly, trying to find the right words to explain himself.

     << I mean... I had planned to take you and... Azirapahle out on a proper date tonight. >> He admitted, his voice soft and hesitant. << I wanted it to be perfect, you know? Wine, dine, and all that... >>

A suffering smile is on his face as he gunks down his wine.

     << I wanted tonight to be special...>> he softly admitted, looking at his empty glass before grabbing the bottle. << You know... after a week of... well, hell. >> He pours the rubin liquor. << For you. For me... for him. For us. >> 

     You take his hand and kiss it. << Well, I must say, this night picnic under the stars was a perfect first day. >>

     He looks at you, uncertain. << Really? >>

     You kiss him and nod, smiling. << Today was hard... >>

     << Yep. >> he takes another sip of wine and clicks his tongue.

     << But this has been the best date I have ever been to! >>

He smiles, looks again into your eyes and says only two words: << Thank you. >>

You know that he's not talking about the date.

You kiss him again and look at him, stroking his tattoed cheek.

     << Don't even mention it. >>

[hookhausenschips]

Fight Past, Love Present

Masterlist

Summary: As the truth of Y/N's past came to light, both Charles and Y/N were faced with a barrage of judgment and criticism from fans and the media alike. But amidst the chaos, their love for each other remained steadfast, a beacon of hope in the face of adversity.

Word Count: 3,528

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Charles Leclerc taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane

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—————————————————————-

Charles’ POV

As I walked into the party, the first thing that struck me was the lively atmosphere. The room was filled with laughter and chatter, and I couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed by the noise and energy. I scanned the crowd, searching for familiar faces, but mostly finding strangers.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted her – Y/N. She stood alone in the corner, a quiet confidence radiating from her as she observed the room. There was something about her that drew me in, a magnetic presence that I couldn't ignore.

I made my way over to her, feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement as I approached. Our mutual friend introduced us, and as our eyes met, I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through me. There was an instant connection between us, a spark that ignited the moment our hands touched in greeting.

We fell into conversation effortlessly, the noise of the party fading into the background as we talked. Y/N was easy to talk to, her warmth and openness putting me at ease. We laughed and joked, sharing stories and discovering common interests as if we had known each other for years.

As the night wore on, I found myself drawn to Y/N more and more, captivated by her intelligence, humor, and beauty. Time seemed to slip away as we talked, and before I knew it, the party was winding down and people were starting to leave.

But even as the night came to an end, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just met someone truly special. As I said goodbye to Y/N, I knew that this was only the beginning of an incredible journey together. And as I walked away from the party, a smile playing on my lips, I couldn't wait to see where our connection would take us.

Y/N’s POV

The music thumped in the background, the bass reverberating through the crowded room as people laughed and danced around me. I stood in the corner, nursing a drink and trying to blend into the chaos of the party. Social gatherings like this weren't exactly my scene, but when my friend insisted I come along, I reluctantly agreed.

As I scanned the room, my eyes landed on him – Charles. He walked in with an air of confidence, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he greeted familiar faces. There was something about him that drew me in, something magnetic and irresistible.

Our mutual friend spotted me and made his way over, dragging Charles along with him. "Y/N, this is Charles. Charles, meet Y/N," he said, introducing us with a grin. Charles extended his hand, and I took it, feeling a jolt of electricity shoot through me at the contact.

We started talking, and before I knew it, we were engrossed in conversation, oblivious to the world around us. We talked about everything – from our favorite music to our dreams and aspirations. Despite the noise and chaos of the party, it felt like we were in our own little bubble, cocooned from the outside world.

As the night wore on, I found myself opening up to Charles in a way I hadn't with anyone else. There was something about him that made me feel safe, understood, and valued. And as we laughed and shared stories, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something incredible.

Looking back, that party was a turning point in my life – the moment I met Charles and felt the spark of something special ignite between us. Little did I know that our chance encounter would be the start of a love story that would change both of our lives forever.

Charles’ POV

As I pulled into the garage, the smell of oil and gasoline filled the air, instantly transporting me back to my childhood days spent tinkering with cars in my father's workshop. The garage was a hive of activity, with mechanics bustling about, their hands busy with tools and equipment.

I parked my car and stepped out, taking a moment to appreciate the organized chaos around me. That's when I spotted her – Y/N.

She was hunched over the hood of a car, a grease-stained rag in one hand and a wrench in the other, completely engrossed in her work.

I watched in awe as she worked, her movements fluid and confident as she tinkered with the engine. There was a determination in her eyes, a passion for her craft that was impossible to ignore.

Despite the male-dominated nature of the industry, Y/N held her own with ease, commanding respect and admiration from her colleagues.

I approached her cautiously, not wanting to interrupt her concentration. When she finally looked up and noticed me, I felt a surge of nerves and excitement coursing through me. Our eyes met, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

We exchanged greetings, and I couldn't help but be drawn in by her warmth and sincerity. Y/N was unlike any mechanic I had ever encountered – knowledgeable, skilled, and unapologetically herself. As we talked, I found myself hanging on her every word, captivated by her passion for cars and her unwavering confidence.

At that moment, surrounded by the sights and sounds of the garage, I knew that I had stumbled upon something truly special. Y/N wasn't just a mechanic – she was a force to be reckoned with, a woman who defied stereotypes and broke barriers with every turn of the wrench.

As I left the garage that day, a newfound sense of excitement burning in my chest, I couldn't wait to see where this unexpected encounter would lead. Little did I know that Y/N would soon become so much more than just a mechanic – she would become the love of my life.

Y/N’s POV

The day started like any other at the auto repair shop where I worked. I was elbow-deep in grease and engine parts, lost in the comforting rhythm of my work. Little did I know, my world was about to be turned upside down.

As I wiped my hands on a rag, a familiar voice broke through the noise of the shop. I turned to see Charles Leclerc standing before me, his presence commanding attention even in this gritty environment. My heart skipped a beat as I took in his appearance – the confident stride, the easy smile, the hint of vulnerability lurking behind his eyes.

He was here to get his car checked, he explained, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice. I couldn't help but be taken aback. What was someone like him doing in a place like this? But before I could dwell on it too long, I got to work, my hands moving deftly as I inspected his car with practiced expertise.

As we chatted, I felt a connection forming between us – a spark of something special that I couldn't quite put into words. Charles was different from anyone I had ever met – kind, genuine, and unafraid to show his vulnerable side. And as we shared stories and laughed together, I found myself drawn to him in a way I had never experienced before.

But amidst the laughter and camaraderie, there was a tension in the air – an unspoken acknowledgment of the attraction simmering beneath the surface. I tried to ignore it, to focus on the task at hand, but the pull of his presence was too strong to resist.

As Charles left the shop that day, I couldn't shake the feeling that my life was about to change in ways I couldn't even begin to imagine. Little did I know, this chance encounter would be the beginning of a journey that would take us both on a whirlwind ride of love, passion, and unexpected twists and turns.

Charles’ POV

It was a sunny day at the paddock, with the air buzzing with excitement and anticipation for the upcoming race here in Monaco. As I made my way through the throngs of people, I couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness gnawing at me. Today was the day Y/N would be joining me in the paddock for the first time, and I couldn't wait to show her off to the world.

As I caught sight of her standing by the garage, my heart skipped a beat. She looked stunning in a simple jeans and t-shirt combo, her hair pulled back into a messy bun. But it wasn't her appearance that caught my attention; it was the way she carried herself – with confidence and poise, despite the sea of curious eyes on her.

Taking her hand in mine, I led her through the paddock, introducing her to my teammates and fellow drivers. The reactions were mixed – some greeted her with warmth and enthusiasm, while others eyed her warily, no doubt judging her.

But Y/N took it all in stride, flashing her trademark smile and engaging everyone she met with ease. She was a natural in the paddock, effortlessly charming everyone she encountered. And as we posed for photos together, her hand in mine, I felt a surge of pride swell within me. This was my girlfriend, and I couldn't have been happier to show her off to the world.

Y/N’s POV

Flashes from the cameras of fans and paps followed Charles and me as soon as we made it to the gate. He grabbed my hand after scanning his pass smiling at me.

Stepping into the paddock at the Monaco Grand Prix was like entering a whole new world. The air buzzed with excitement and anticipation, the sound of engines roaring in the distance adding to the electric atmosphere. As Charles led me through the bustling crowd, I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the spectacle unfolding around me.

But beneath the excitement lurked a nagging sense of nervousness. This was my first time in the paddock, and I couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place among the glamorous surroundings and high-profile personalities. Would I be accepted by Charles' colleagues and fans, or would I be judged for my lack of pedigree and connections?

As we made our way through the paddock, Charles introduced me to his teammates and fellow drivers, each handshake and smile easing my nerves bit by bit. They greeted me warmly, their genuine curiosity and interest putting me at ease. For the first time, I felt like I belonged like I was part of something bigger than myself.

Charles’ POV

I felt a surge of excitement coursing through my veins. This was my home race, the pinnacle of the Formula 1 calendar, and I couldn't wait to share it with Y/N by my side.

As we navigated through the bustling crowd, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in introducing Y/N to my world. She may not have grown up in the glitz and glamour of the racing scene, but her presence added a sense of freshness and authenticity that I found refreshing.

Introducing Y/N to my team and fellow drivers was a surreal experience. They greeted her warmly, their curiosity piqued by the presence of someone new in the paddock. But as they chatted and laughed together, I could see the barriers melting away, replaced by a genuine camaraderie that transcended the confines of the racing world.

But the real test came when we posed for photos together, our relationship debuting to the world for the first time. As the cameras flashed and the onlookers snapped pictures, I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at having Y/N by my side. She may not have grown up in the racing world, but she belonged here just as much as I did.

As the day unfolded, I watched with a mixture of pride and admiration as Y/N embraced the chaos and excitement of the paddock with open arms. She may have been new to this world, but she tackled it with confidence and grace that left me in awe.

And as we watched the sunset over the Monaco harbor, hand in hand, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together. No matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as we had each other, we could face them head-on, with love and unwavering support guiding us every step of the way.

Third Person POV

As the Monaco Grand Prix concluded and the excitement of the race faded, a cloud of uncertainty hung over Charles and Y/N. Unbeknownst to them, the tranquility they had experienced in the paddock was about to be shattered.

The news of Charles Leclerc dating Y/N Y/L/N, a woman with a violent past, spread like wildfire through the media. Sensational headlines screamed across tabloids, accompanied by old videos of Y/N getting into fights from her troubled youth. Speculation ran rampant, with pundits and commentators questioning Charles' judgment and the future of their relationship.

Social media platforms were ablaze with debates and discussions about whether Charles should be associated with someone with such a checkered past. Some fans came to his defense, citing Y/N's transformation and redemption as evidence of her growth. Others, however, were less forgiving, lambasting Charles for his perceived lapse in judgment and urging him to distance himself from Y/N.

The intense scrutiny took a toll on both Charles and Y/N, as they struggled to navigate the storm of negativity while maintaining their privacy and dignity. But amidst the chaos, their love for each other remained steadfast, a beacon of hope in the face of adversity.

Y/N’s POV

Returning to the hotel room after the race, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over me. Something felt off, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. As Charles checked his phone, I watched his expression shift from confusion to concern, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.

It didn't take long for me to realize what had happened. Someone had dug up my past, unearthed old videos of me getting into fights, and plastered them all over the internet. The comments were brutal, filled with judgment and condemnation, questioning my character and worthiness of being with Charles.

I was blindsided. Seeing my past splashed across headlines and dissected by strangers was a surreal and gut-wrenching experience. I knew my past was far from perfect, but I had worked hard to leave it behind and build a better life for myself.

I felt a wave of shame and embarrassment wash over me. I had worked so hard to leave my past behind me, to build a better life for myself, and now it was being thrown back in my face for the world to see. How could I face Charles after this? How could he possibly still want to be with someone like me?

But as I looked into his eyes, I saw something that surprised me – unwavering support and love. He didn't judge me for my past; instead, he stood by me, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead together. He saw past my mistakes and loved me for who I was, scars and all. With him by my side, I found the strength to face the storm head-on, refusing to let the haters bring me down.

And in that moment, I knew that no matter what the world threw our way, as long as we had each other, we could overcome anything.

Charles’ POV

After the race, I returned to our hotel room with Y/N, a sense of contentment enveloping us. We had shared an incredible day together, basking in the adrenaline and excitement of the Grand Prix. But as I checked my phone, my heart sank at the sight of the notifications flooding in.

Messages from fans, journalists, and even my team flooded my inbox, all asking about Y/N's past. Confusion and concern washed over me as I frantically scrolled through the messages, trying to piece together what had happened.

It didn't take long for me to find out. Someone had unearthed old videos of Y/N's past, clips of her getting into fights and standing her ground against anyone who dared to disrespect her. The comments section was filled with judgment and criticism, with some even questioning my judgment for being with her.

I felt a surge of anger and frustration welling up inside me. How could people be so quick to judge Y/N based on her past mistakes? Didn't they see the person she had become, the strength and resilience that defined her?

But amidst the chaos, one thing became clear – I needed to confront this head-on. I couldn't let the haters tear us apart, not after everything we had been through together. So, I made a decision to stand by Y/N, to defend her against the onslaught of negativity and judgment that threatened to engulf us.

As Media Day dawned for the next race, I knew that the looming specter of questions about Y/N's past would cast a shadow over the proceedings. The journalists gathered around me, their pens poised and cameras ready, eager to pounce on any hint of vulnerability or doubt.

But I was determined not to let them catch me off guard. I had prepared for this moment, rehearsing my responses in my mind until they felt like second nature. As the questions began to fly, I met them head-on, refusing to flinch or falter in the face of adversity.

I spoke passionately about Y/N, about the woman she had become, and the battles she had fought to overcome her past. I didn't sugarcoat the truth or try to sweep her past under the rug. Instead, I spoke candidly about the challenges we had faced together and the love that had carried us through it all.

With each answer, I could feel the tension in the room easing, the skepticism giving way to understanding and acceptance. I didn't try to convince the journalists to change their minds – I simply shared my truth and let them make up their own minds.

By the end of the interviews, I could see a shift in the atmosphere. The journalists no longer saw Y/N as a troubled soul with a violent past; they saw her as a survivor, a woman who had risen above her circumstances and found redemption in the arms of love.

As I walked away from Media Day, I felt a sense of pride wash over me. I had faced the media head-on, defending Y/N and our relationship with every fiber of my being. And as I looked ahead to the future, I knew that no amount of scrutiny or judgment could ever shake the love we shared.

Charles' approach to confronting the media was one of honesty, transparency, and unwavering conviction. He refused to let the doubts and skepticism of others dictate his narrative, instead choosing to speak his truth and defend his love for Y/N with every fiber of his being. And in doing so, he earned the respect and admiration of both the media and fans alike.

Y/N’s POV

As the media frenzy surrounding my past reached a fever pitch, I knew I couldn't stay silent any longer. I needed to speak my truth, to show the world that I was more than just the sum of my mistakes. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands and confront the media head-on.

I recorded a video, pouring my heart out to the camera and baring my soul for all to see. I spoke about my troubled past, the mistakes I had made, and the journey of redemption that had led me to where I am today. But most importantly, I spoke about my love for Charles and the unwavering support he had shown me through it all.

Posting the video was nerve-wracking, to say the least. I didn't know how people would react, whether they would believe me or dismiss me as just another troubled soul looking for sympathy. But I refused to let fear hold me back. I needed to speak my truth, to show the world that I was more than just my past mistakes.

The response to the video was overwhelming. People from all walks of life reached out to offer words of support and encouragement, telling me how my story had inspired them to confront their own demons and strive for a better life. And as I read through the messages, tears streaming down my face, I knew that I had made the right decision to speak out.

Y/N’s approach to confronting the media was one of courage, vulnerability, and unwavering honesty. She refused to let the judgment of others define her, instead choosing to speak her truth and share her journey of redemption with the world. And in doing so, she inspired countless others to do the same, proving that love and resilience can triumph over even the darkest of pasts.

[absolutebl]

Genuine Question: Given how much people hate problematic topics in BL eg: kp, mame, love syndrome, etc. why is everyone so damn excited about Only Friends? Like we know nothing about the show. It's GMMTV so how sexy is it going to get? you know, like it's GMMTV. I like the cast as much as anyone and particularly FirstKhao but I don't see this 'sexiness' everyone is going so crazy over? Is it some bts thing like I know the director is jojo and he's gay. Is that why everyone so excited? Is it because we just haven't gotten anything really brilliant this year that gets the whole BL fandom together and that's why people are hoping this will, is that what's going on? I like everyone involved well enough but 'sexy', 'crazy', 'problematic', 'high heat'... I don't get it.

Only Friends & Jojo

Genuine answer.

Okay so this question got me invested enough to get off the phone, over to the laptop, and onto hotel wifi, which means typos rather than dictation homophones, but there it is.

I guess what I am saying it...

mistakes will be made

From the tenor of your question methinks you have not watched Friend Zone? It's a 2 part series. Mostly messy hets but...

Also a TON of broad spectrum queer rep (lesbian, bi, ace, demi). Real queers, not sanitized for straight consumption.

Because yeah, GMMTV will get messy and go into higher heat levels in a late night way (not in a KP way).

But actually what has most people excited about Only Friends is it being sourced in this man:

Jojo Tichakorn Phukhaotong

Jojo is a screenwriter (originals) and director, openly gay, multifaceted and a little experimental, naturally talented (on the job trained - he's an archaeologist originally), and he is behind:

The Warp Effect, Friend Zone and MOST importantly (IMHO)...

3 Will Be Free

There are others too, but for the purposes of this post, those are the 3 that count. I think of him a little as the GMMTV director version of Ohm's acting.

Jojo specializes in:

ensemble pieces,

good chemistry (NOT necessarily high heat, so by this I mean actor chemistry with each other all around - couples, cast, team, production)

working with and finding actors within GMMTV's stable who work well together (even if that means busting up a pair),

a queer lens,

queer rep,

and often very messy story (as in he is not invested in the traditional beats of a romance, let alone a BL).

AND he can shoot action (this is a specific skill set for directors and it's NOT easy),

thus he will shoot his sex/intimacy & COMEDY scenes as if they WERE action sequences.

This makes his stuff particularly exciting to watch. It's dynamic, there's a lot of movement, the eye is caught and dragged places. He doesn't use dirty/peekaboo framing or central aperture or manga style (not with INTENT the way trained directors do). In fact he does none of those things I harp on about because I like the romance stuff.

He's not being clever with us. He's being honest, but still applying skill. His stuff not quite raw, but also not really directed. You can tell he gives his actors a script, throws them together and then instructs them to just BE THOSE CHARACTERS. He has a light touch, he trusts them. He's not fussy or nit-picky. He's not doing a million takes to get that sene exactly how he envisions it. His ensemble pieces are just that, group projects.

His eye is wide, even for intimacy, by which I mean: he controls and watches for multiple actors at once when there are a lot of them on screen together, without them feeling stiff.

His style is quite organic but not too gritty.

Struggling to understand what I mean?

For example, watch a Jojo "group of friends chatting" scene where everyone is just standing around then watch the same thing in, say, SCOY. You'll see what I mean. SCOY is also a very queer ensemble piece, but it will feel quite stiff, unnatural, and "planned" (staged) by comparison.

For the giffers out there you might notice that Jojo's stuff is particularly difficult to gif cleanly? This is why.

I find him an exciting director. I didn't cover him in my directors overview because at the time he hadn't done much BL (and frankly, he still hasn't). It's not his focus.

I think Only Friends is actually not likely to be very BL. Queer = yes, BL = NO. He won't hit the tropes and there is no reason to assume it will end happily for all couples (if any). That's not Jojo's point of view.

He doesn't play our game. As a result, some of those excited by the idea of this show (or excited the general enthusiasm & anticipation around it), may be doomed to disappointment.

It's one of the reasons you don't see me getting excited about it.

I'm a fan of specifically the fluffy side of BL, this will NOT be that. And I can appreciate a director without necessarily liking the stories he tells.

I am industry enough to acknowledge Jojo's skill (and I LOVE 3 Will Be Free - just not as a BL), but I don't always like his narratives. No matter how good he is, his stuff is not why I personally watch Thai BL.

It's GMMTV, so how sexy is it going to get?

Again, see Friend Zone. GMMTV has a late night pantheon, mostly for het, but they will get salacious. Lots of cheating and terrible decisions. There will be no archetypes. Characters will exist in grey areas, even the "good" characters. There will be no paladins in this show. No seme/uke.

To answer this frankly?

Only Friends will get soap opera or telenovella sexy but no more. So we will be in Midnight Chicken territory, not Bed Friends.

I think the words being bandied about:

'sexy', 'crazy', 'problematic', 'high heat'

are used here on tumblr (and in fandom) as an attempt to articulate expectations set up by Jojo's style.

Most viewers only react emotionally to the tenor of a director with this set of skills. That's fine, that's what the production company wants: A visceral emotional reaction.

But I hope I've managed to clarify from a film-critic perspective what's bringing this sensation about?

But ALSO seeing a bunch of, essentially, lower heat pure BL pairs, have to push themselves into messy queer spaces? (Notice GMMTV only let the more established actors into this one? No JoongDunk, no GeminiFourth)

This is probably really what everyone is excited about.

They are gonna see their favorites cheat, sleep around, be gay (not BL gay, but actual gay). Some are legitimately excited about this, some are shipper excited, and the BL-stans who don't know Jojo are doomed to disappointment.

I'm mostly excited by how messy this is gonna make the fandom.

Su su na.

(source)

[xxhispieceofheavenxx]

All is peachy || Regulus Black

Summary: After spending the summer hooking up with his brother's best friend, Regulus convinces himself she only wants him because she can't have Sirius. Or where Regulus masturbates with a peach but he is sad while doing so. (basically, the peach scene from call me by your name)

CW: slight angst to fluff, smut, male masturbation, oral sex (male receiving), self-dought, French!Regulus, French!Sirius, fem!reader. Let me know If I missed something.

Word count: 2.9k words

Hiii! I'm back with a Regulus one-shot. I had this in the back of my mind for a while now and I'm so glad I could write it down. I said that this fic wouldn't take me long, and it didn't because I've been writing it nonstop, but it's still the longest story I've written. With that being said I hope you enjoy it!

Request are open

Masterlist

The loud laughter makes his eyes roll as his mouth puffs out a breath. Sirius' voice is boisterous while joking around with his cousins Juliette, Lèon and Manon. It usually wouldn't bother him as much as it does today, but among his family, he can hear the sweet laughter that's been plaguing his mind for the entirety of the summer.

She's waist-deep in the water, squinted eyes as Sirius continues splashing water around the group. The sun shines bright, making her hair and skin look even more lively than usual. He should join them; the heat is almost unbearable even as he sits under the shadow of a big tree, pretending to read his worn-out copy of Moby Dick. He should be in the water enjoying his summer, but he can't, not when she's there, looking even more beautiful than he remembers ever seeing her. She's wearing a flowery bikini, her skin looking darker thanks to the sun.

When this summer started, Regulus never thought he would be in a situation like this; when Sirius told him he had invited a friend to spend the holiday with them at their summer manor in the South of France, he never thought he would end up falling for her. She was the loveliest from the moment she entered their house, even making his usually stern parents smile and comment about how Sirius had finally found a friend worth their time. It was hard not loving her sweet voice and laughter, the smell of her hair while she flung it over her shoulder, talking animatedly with his cousin Juliette, easy to make friends when they arrived at the holiday manor. He never thought he would have a chance with a woman so bright she could face the sun and still shine more, not him, not his gloomy face and grey eyes. But he was wrong about that again, and only a week into the summer, Regulus found himself kissing the woman of his dreams.

They had been drinking outside, near the lake, where they were swimming now. Regulus had gotten up to find more drinks when she, always the enthusiastic helper, offered to help him carry them back. Unsure how it happened, they were kissing in the wine cellar. Her body pushed against a wall, her legs around his waist, her finger tangled in his hair. Regulus thought it had all been a dream when he woke up with a killer headache. It became clear it wasn't when she tentatively pressed a hand to his back and gave him a knowing smile during breakfast, the kind that holds a secret only they share.

The next few weeks were spent sneaking around, tasting each other and enjoying furtive glances and touches. That was until Regulus decided she couldn't like a guy like him, not when she had Sirius around, the extrovert, the funny and witty brother. Why would she choose him over Sirius when he was everything his brother wasn't? Introverted, quiet, nose always stuck in a book, never able to defend himself or speak his mind, always afraid about what he could do wrong. That's why he has spent the last week making up excuses, looking the other way when her eyes tried to find his.

Giving up on distracting himself with his book, he closes it and gets up. Quick steps guide him inside the kitchen where house elves are busy prepping for dinner; out of the corner of his eye, he sees a basket full of ripe peaches and quickly grabs two, taking them upstairs to his room.

Tossing the book on his bed, he grabs the bottom of his flowy linen shirt and places a peach on his nightstand. He takes it off, allowing the cloth to fall to the floor. He lays down and starts taking the pit out of the peach in his hand. The sweet juice runs down his fingers all the way to his wrist; he manages to lick them up before the dops reach the bedding. Regulus grabs his book once more and becomes determined to get the girl out of his mind. He opens it on the marked page and aggressively chomps down on the peach.

After rereading the same line over ten times and finishing his peach, he accepts defeat. Closing the book, he places it on his nightstand and lays back, looking at the ceiling like it is about to give him the answer to stop his despair. He thought he had a chance, he really did, but that was just plain wishful thinking. He had seen himself as lucky all those times she had allowed him a taste of her lips or allowed him in her bed. But of course, it was just a distraction for her, so she wouldn't have to face Sirius' escapees alone. He knew it was all too good to be true. His brother was always the desired; he was the oldest, the more handsome, the charismatic and witty. He was still the same brother that had invited her and then left her alone with his family to meet his multiple summer affairs, leaving her to try and console herself with always-number-two Regulus. 

He blames himself for even thinking that her touches were ever directed at him. Even if they were on his skin, he knows that in her mind there was only one man, and it wasn't him. All her kisses, caresses, moans and whispers weren't for him. 

Groaning, Regulus looks down at the tent that formed in his summer shorts. Which had been happening a lot more often; whenever he remembers her and their endeavours. His hand had started failing him as well, no longer giving him enough pleasure. But after feeling how soft, wet and warm her cunt was all summer, it isn't a surprise. Another sight leaves his lips when he reaches for the forgotten peach by his bedside. Closing his eyes, he rolls the peach between his fingers. The soft skin reminds him of her, extra soft, after applying sunscreen all summer. 

Regulus opens his eyes slightly, focusing his sight on the peach in his hands. His index finger starts gently caressing where the stem used to be, softly feeling the curves of the fruit. His breathing becomes slightly ragged as his thoughts continue to flow. No, he can't do that; it would be weird. Shaking his head, he stabs the top of the peach with his thumb, juices falling all over his chest and abdomen. He is quick to gather them with his fingers and lick them clean. He finally gets the pit out and sucks on it, getting as much of the flesh as he can, then he rolls it between his fingers and chucks it across the room, still upset at his thoughts.

Regulus hitches himself higher up, allowing his back to rest on the pillows. Tentatively, he brings the peach into his mouth, sucking the flesh exposed in the hole he left after taking the pit out. He nibbles and lets his tongue roam around the hole, closing his eyes and throwing his head back, only one thing on his mind. He can't help but compare her to the fruit, sweet and soft, juices wetting his lips and face as he explores it with his mouth.

He opens his eyes, knowing that he has lost the battle with his thoughts. Regulus lets one of his hands tread slowly down his body to the button of his shorts; his other brings the fruit into his underwear. Regulus bites back a moan, letting air out his nose, and pushes into the hole. He lets his eyes close again, feeling the sensations; how wet it is, how if he squishes it just a little bit, it feels like her cunt fluttering around him. Her face is clear behind his closed lids, mouth slightly open with pleasure, no noises coming out of her with how much he was making her feel. It doesn't take much more than that image to release, his semen filling the fruit in his hand. 

Disgusted with his actions, he quickly places the peach on his nightstand. He casts a quick glance as his cum drips in a long, slow drop down one side and turns his back to it, ready to forget about what he has done.

Hours later, the bright sun is much duller coming in through the window. Soft steps pad through his bedroom floor until they reach the edge of his bed. A smile touches her lips as she watches Regulus lie asleep on his sheets, slack jaw, eyelashes fluttering as he dreams. She sits on the mattress, careful not to wake him up and laces her finger to his soft curls. She bends over, letting her lips place kisses all over Regulus' naked chest.

His eyes flutter open, dazed, as he watches her kiss down his abdomen, all the way to his unbuttoned shorts. Her hand reaches down, pulling his semi-hard dick out and placing it in her mouth. He sighs and looks as her face scrunches up in shock.

"What did you do?"

That is enough to fully wake him up, realising this is not a dream and she is currently inside his room sucking him off.

"Nothing." His all-too-fast answer is enough to make her look around his room, not taking long to find the peach on his nightstand.

"Oh, wow..." she says as she reaches over him for the fruit.

"Stop." Regulus sits up and tries to get it out of her grasp.

"What? No, this is very interesting." A grin takes over her face as she chuckles.

"It's nasty."

"Yes, it is." Her smile grows. She sticks her tongue out, trying to get the drop that fell off the side.

"Stop, don't do that." Regulus tries to take the fruit away again, but she quickly avoids his hand. "Seriously, stop." His hand misses hers a third time, and she tries to lick his cum off the peach again. "Just stop, please." A sob escapes his body suddenly, tears start streaming down his face.

"Reggie, what...?" Her words get lost as he bends over her, hiding his face on her lap. "What's wrong?" Her fingers tangle on his hair again, helping her concerned voice.

"I'm sorry, I'm..." He raises his head and wipes furiously at his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, I'm sorry." She lets the peach down on his other nightstand, the closest to her. "I didn't mean to upset you. I was only joking." Her concerned eyes look for his.

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cry." His eyes refuse to meet hers.

"Reggie, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, don't worry." He sniffs and tries to get up. She grabs his wrist, making him look at her, a surprised expression on his face.

"Something is clearly wrong. Talk to me." Her gentle voice makes tears prick his eyes again. He lays back down, letting his arm cover his eyes so she cannot see them.

"I just,... I don't know." She lays down, placing her head on his shoulder, humming, letting him know he can continue. "I..., why are we doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Kissing, making out, having sex." His arm falls down, and he stares at his ceiling once again, refusing to look at the woman on his shoulder whose eyes are boring into his face.

"You don't like it?" She whispers, voice unsure.

"I do, but do you?"

"Of course I do. I wouldn't do it if I didn't." That makes him turn his face to her.

"Do you just like the sex?" The commissures of his lips go down, threatening new tears. "Because I'm sure you can find sex somewhere else."

"What?" Her eyes search into his, hoping they will give her an answer.

"If what you enjoy is the sex, I'm sure you can find someone that is not your crush's little brother to give it to you." His voice turns slightly venomous at his words. He can't believe she is making him spell it out for her. He had enough humiliation as it is; allowing her in, thinking that he was enough for her, only to realize Sirius was the one she wanted and couldn't have.

"Wait, wow, wow, wow." She sits up, her arms moving defensively in front of her. "What are you talking about?"

His brow furrows, and he sits up on the bed as well. "You have a crush on Sirius."

"Ew, what the fuck?" She makes a disgusted expression. "Who the fuck told you that?"

"I, hm... no one?" 

"Why do you think I like Sirius?"

"Because... everyone does." He looks as confused as her, not understanding her disgust and shock at the revelation.

"Who the fuck is everyone? Reggie, why would I have sex with you if I wanted Sirius?" Her frown deepens.

His mouth relaxes open, confused sound spill out while his eyes look around the room, trying to find an answer. She doesn't...? But all those looks she sent Sirius' way, they coy smiles and jokes between them. They had to be more, hadn't they? "I..., you're not having sex with me because Sirius isn't interested?"

Her mouth gapes open. "What? No." The disgust returns to her features. "I mean, I love your brother, he's one of my best friends, but he is the sluttiest man on Earth. I'd only have to ask him, and he'd be dropping his pants in a second."

Unsure eyes look at her.

"Reggie," She says softly, her hands cupping his cheeks. "I like you, not just the sex, not just the kisses. You. I like you." His eyes shine with tears as he looks at her, looking for a hint of a lie.

"I just came inside a peach." Is all he can muster out after a moment of silence. Her laughter erupts in his ears.

"Yeah, you did." She finally says in between giggles. "It was sexy." More laughter leaves her, and he smiles, unable to stop himself from how happy she sounds.

"It was?"

"Yeah," She finally breathes. "It made you taste sweet." Her fingers dance on his thigh, making their way up his stomach. She caresses where the juices from the peach fell, where she had been kissing him moments ago.

"Oh..."

"Oh indeed." She looks at him with a rueful smile. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I know." His hand grabs her, stopping her caresses, and he brings it to his mouth, placing a kiss on her palm.

"You know, normally, when someone confesses their feeling for you is polite to let them know if you feel the same way or not." She says, her voice tentative.

His eyes widen, and he looks up at her, her hand still over his lips. "I like you, yes, of course, I do." His rushed words make her smile. "I'm sorry, I'm not good at feelings."

Her other hand reaches his cheek. "It's okay. We'll learn; together. I just need you to talk to me, please." His hand cups the one on his cheek. "I knew something was weird this past week, but you didn't talk to me."

"I know. I'm sorry. I tend to get in my head and not talk with people when I think something is wrong."

"Just promise you'll talk to me next time, no matter what it is." Her sad eyes are all he needs to kiss her.

"I promise." He breathes once they break apart. His hands make their way from her cheeks to her waist. "I'm sorry." Is all he whispers while he lays her down, their lips locked.

"Reggie." She breaks the kiss as her head hits the mattress. "I'd love to, but I came up here to tell you dinner is ready, and you need to come down." His forehead touches hers.

"You were the one that started blowing me."

"Oops?" His stern eyes look into hers, making her giggle. "We can do whatever you want after dinner, I promise."

"You'll finish what you started?"

"Only if you do the peach thing again." He groans, his head going back and then falling on her shoulder.

"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"Nope." She over-exaggerates the pop sound and softly pushes him off her. "Come on, put your shirt on. I don't want your parents sending anyone to check on us."

Reaching the bottom of the stairs and walking past the archway, they walk into the dining room, where everyone is waiting for them.

"Look who finally decided to join us." Leon's words are accentuated by his french accent.

"Sorry." Regulus quickly apologises, sitting down on one of the free chairs. He reaches for his glass of water as a house elve starts pilling food on his plate.

"Is everything okay?" Orion asks as he sips his wine.

"Yeah, you guys took so long to come downstairs." Sirius pipes up.

"All is peachy." Her cheery voice makes Regulus choke on his sip of water. Eyes look at him as he tries not to cough out a lung. "He fell asleep, took me a bit to get him up."

"Oh, you're still cranky when you wake up, Reg." Manon's teasing voice says.

"Yes, I guess." His cheeks are red as he prays nobody has realized the actual situation. Regulus' eyes have a glint in them, one that she recognises. She grins at him, fully knowing she's in for a lot tonight.

[thesherrinfordfacility]

okay let's get them hard truths out in the open following episode 6, bearing in mind that i am in the UK and am therefore chronically sleep-deprived, and have watched the Feral Domestic™ maybe only like oh 7 times:

crowley is as much at fault as aziraphale. they are both as bad as each other. their own individual idiosyncrasies are literally the other's emotional downfall and if im honest im not entirely sure there's any way they can adequately move past it.

waxed on and on and on about it, but aziraphale's issue is not that he has any allegiance to heaven. he doesn't at all, and that is obvious in his initial reaction to the metatron, in that he essentially says that he knows his place and it is not Up Above. it is right there in the bookshop, and with crowley (even if he didn't consciously think it that explicitly at the time). he doesn't want any part of the heaven that it currently is, he has had enough and is tired of trying to be the angel that hides who he is and what he wants from his existence. that much is very much clear.

but the mantra throughout most of life is to be the change you want to see in the world. look at the major societal issues that are happening in the world today; people are rising up and fighting for what is right, and what they believe in, and wanting to make changes. now look at this opportunity that aziraphale has been given. regardless of the questionable motive of the metatron offering it to him; if you were in his position, could you say you'd find it easy to refuse that?

the issue here with aziraphale is that he (again, ill harp on about it until the cows come home) thinks that crowley - this demon that isn't a good demon because he is good and kind and gentle - would want to have his place in making that change happen; be by aziraphale's side whilst they create the world and heaven that is different from the largely shit one they've always known, hated, and feared. this is where the Pedestal comes in; like i said before, aziraphale has now been confronted with the fact that this demon, his best friend and love of his life, is acting in the way he's always acted but that aziraphale refuses to acknowledge... because to acknowledge crowley's shortcomings (which ill discuss in a sec) would be to question aziraphale's faith in him, and mean falling from the pedestal that has been aziraphale's status quo for the last few thousand years at minimum.

edit: this also needed adding because it touches on aziraphale's tendency to hold himself superior to crowley, which he also does in the Domestic scene.

crowley's issue is twofold. one, he cannot move on from the fall. second, that he is sometimes a manipulative and childish shit. the first is obvious, and his recent experiences with heaven have only compounded this (ie his conversation with gabriel/goob, where he lays into him about gabriel's part in the cruelty shown towards aziraphale to the point he almost makes goob kill/injure himself). crowley can also however be incredibly cruel borne out of his own pain. there were major hints in s2 that not only did crowley fall (no matter what the metatron says, im still not convinced he fell for only asking questions) but he fell from a great sodding height that in his mind should have made him untouchable. my thoughts on morality in heaven have already been discussed, but that must have had a huge impact on crowley; it is no wonder that it's a sore point and he feels bitter, resentful, and angry.

in the above context, id want nothing to do with heaven either. but crowley doesn't communicate and im guessing that his feelings about the fall are a No Go area in terms of what he's shared with aziraphale... so for crowley to assume that aziraphale turned down the metatron is grossly unfair - how was aziraphale necessarily meant to know how deep his trauma (if we're applying human mental health constructs) runs? he isn't to know that at all - so it does track that aziraphale would think that crowley would want to help him make a difference so they don't have to keep getting involved in the toxicity that is the heaven/hell politico-moral dichotomy.

what also upset me about the Domestic was the kiss. i loved it for what it was in isolation and it was a long time coming, and a huge movement in the dance they constantly have with each other, but it was in essence manipulative. i realise crowley was on his last emotional straw and yes, perhaps the love and devotion got too much for him to contain... but he literally just stood there and heard aziraphale tell him that he wanted crowley and he wanted them to be together. there were no qualms at all that aziraphale loves him as much as he loves aziraphale. so, what was the kiss meant to prove?

to my mind, it was manipulation; specific, a temptation. whilst very romantic and 'sweep him off his feet with the violins playing', it was also non-consensual and unwarranted on crowley's part - to the point of being derogatory and redundant (lets be clear: not a criticism on Neil for adding the kiss, im purely talking about crowley as a character and his Choices here). there was nothing to prove, nothing that that kiss could have possibly convinced aziraphale to do. so the only thing that leaves, imo, is that it was a temptation. crowley does not typically use temptation in this way, or at least that's the impression ive had throughout s1 and s2, so he chooses now is the time? to tempt aziraphale into staying with him? of course he does!

he's desperate, but also childish and immature and completely ignorant of what aziraphale is actually saying to him. aziraphale never denied him; aziraphale wanted him in this opportunity exactly by his side as he always has been. but that didn't fit with what crowley wanted, so he tried to make aziraphale bend to his will. aziraphale says the fatal words "i forgive you", but if he has (as i suspect he has) realised that crowley was trying to manipulate him... well, id probably say something as damning to crowley as 'i forgive you' too.

when aziraphale said 'nothing last forever', i realise crowley took that to mean him and the life that they built together, but it obviously wasn't that at all. aziraphale is saying that they have eternity ahead of them, that he wants to spend it with crowley, whatever has to end around them (ahem the world? apocalypse from s1, anyone?). aziraphale demonstrated consistently throughout s2 that he is trying to give crowley his own agency where heaven/hell are concerned (paraphrased but: "I want you to help me but if you don't want to, you are free to leave"). crowley however seemed that he was constantly one foot out the door in case things got Too Much (which, you know - valid) but aziraphale really did his best to make crowley not only not feel suffocated but also that crowley was wanted. and for anyone that is a tough balancing act.

the two of them have had 6000+ years of Not Really Communicating. this is the detritus that remains when they don't, and it was absolutely needed in this season. for them to break apart and break in and of themselves. s3 needs to be where they learn more about themselves than each other, and stop believing that the other is infallible, because such thinking - worship, blind faith - only ends badly.

[talaok]

Hey! Can you do one of Joe where he and the reader are shooting a movie together and they have to shoot a sex scene and they both end up horny? thankss

Pairing: Joseph Quinn x fem!reader

summary: Today's the day you have to shoot the infamous sex scene with your least favorite co-star, Joseph Quinn. And, even if you certainly didn't expect it, you find yourself confusingly turned on by it.

warnings: SMUT: unprotected sex

a/n: Sooo... I tried something here and it's probably not what you had in mind when you requested this, but I was tired of making the reader a simp, so.. here we are. I hope you'll still like it 

THE PROPOSAL

You were so bored you thought you were gonna die. Today was the day. The set was closed. The unnecessary staff was sent home and you were in your trailer, wearing a rope with just underwear underneath, waiting for someone to call you and tell you it was time. You had to film the sex scene today. The director had been talking about it for weeks and so had your co-starts. You hated all the fuss around it. It was just pretend-sex, most of the time it was even fun. That was, of course, when the other actor wasn't a total creep, like the time you worked with James Franco and he kept touching you even when the cameras weren't rolling, or, when you didn't despise your colleague, just like this time, unfortunately for you. It's not that you hated Joseph Quinn entirely, it was just that he was so.... much. Like, he always had something to say or do and he was constantly joking or fidgeting and just being so annoyingly exuberant that you sometimes dreamed about taking his head in your hands and screaming at him to calm the fuck down. Ok, maybe you did hate him, but you sure as hell had your reasons, and it's not as if he liked you lots either. It was a miracle you two still hadn't torn the skin off of each other. from the moment you met at the table read, it was clear you couldn't stand each other, so you started avoiding him, as he did the same. You thought of yourself as a professional, and being one, you always treated him with respect when you shot together, smiling politely and pretending to not wanna roll your eyes at everything he said. A dream colleague, as to say. him, on the other hand, obviously wasn't a professional as much as you, since he definitely didn't hold back on eye rolls or snarky comments. but it was fine, you could look past that, you were an actor after all, and acting like you didn't want to punch him was a fairly easy job. The problem now was that today, you had to do a lot more than say a few lines to each other, Oh no. you had to pretend to have passionate and loving sex with him. Wich was a tiny bit diffrent. You had no idea how you were gonna do it. Being a good actress was something, but this... you needed to be Maryl Streep kinda good to do this. But there was nothing to do. you had tried talking to the director, telling him that perhaps the scene wasn't necessary, or that maybe it could have been done in a different way, without you in it, for example, but it hadn't worked, and so now, there you were. "Y/N, it's time" your assistant stated, as she opened your trailer's door. You took a deep breath "let's do this".

"there she is" Joseph said as you stepped on set "late as always" he whispered to you as you got next to him. You exhaled through your nose, already annoyed "Hi to you too" you said, giving him the fakest of smiles. You looked around. It was a nice set, It was supposed to be His character's (Adrian) bedroom. It looked like the inside of one of those little houses you find in villages in the mountains. The walls and roof were all wood, or at least, made to look like it. In the middle of the room was a huge bed with two wooden bedside tables on each side and there were about 10 candles lit all over the place, giving it a really romantic atmosphere "Ok guys, you know how this works" The director, Mark, said, stepping closer to the two of you. "There isn't a script for this scene because I want it to be as raw and real as possible. the only thing you have to remember is that you both love each other immensely" he explained enthusiastically. "Adrian just saved your life Maya!" he exclaimed, using your character's name. "And now, finally, you get to be with the man you love, and you, Adrian" he turned to Joseph " finally get to be with the woman you have longed and fought for so long" he said, obviously very into the narrative. "So I wanna see the passion, ok guys?" Mark asked. You and joseph turned to each other and raised your eyebrows "Of course" you answered in sync.

You took off your robe and placed it on your chair while also taking off your slippers. You took a deep breath and turned around, starting to walk towards the bed, but just as you did, you heard a stroked sound coming from your left. You frowned and turned around, just in time to catch Joseph's eyes scanning your whole body while his mouth opened slightly as he swallowed thickly, clearly hypnotized by your figure. You smiled to yourself, proud of the reaction you had caused, and pretended not to have noticed him, continuing to the bed. You got underneath the covers and set up against the headboard, waiting for him. He was talking to someone, probably his assistant and as she walked away he took off his robe and placed it on his chair, just like you had. You held your breath and bit your lower lip as your eyes took him in. How had you never noticed how fit he is? His arms were strong and his chest was big and muscular. He looked...hot. Wow, you would have never imagined finding someone you hated so much that attractive. But there you were, in complete awe of him. Your eyes traveled up his body once again, this time finding his. Oh no, you thought as you felt your cheeks redden. He smirked smugly and raised an eyebrow, walking towards you. "See something you like?" "Oh please, you wish" you lied, as he got in the bed. You were side by side, looking at each other, trying to get in character when Mark yelled action. You didn't have time to even process that before Joseph crashed his lips with yours in a passionate and rough kiss. It took you a second, but you started to reciprocate, granting his tongue access to your mouth, and pulling him closer by the back of his head. You moaned softly into his mouth and he put his hand behind your back and let it roam free. You whimpered at his touch, and as much as you would have liked to pretend you were reacting in character, that was all you. His hand traveled up to the back of your head and he took a fist of your hair, pushing your face against his. God, who knew he had it in him? Without warning and without breaking the kiss he got on top of you. "You're so beautiful" he murmured against your lips. You felt butterflies in your stomach and you swallowed thickly. God, get it together Y/N! You smiled at the compliment and intertwined your arms behind his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, and pretended to position himself at your entrance. He moved some hair away from your face with a gentle caress and smiled genuinely. "I love you" he whispered. You looked up at him with heart eyes(You deserved an oscar after this) and whispered "God, I love you too Adrian", right before he pretended to push into you delicately. You moaned and started to move with him, simulating the act, making your tits bounce with each movement. You opened your eyes to look at him and saw how, just for a moment he broke the character, remaining amazed by the beautiful sound you'd just made. You internally grinned proudly, as you produced another moan, this time louder. "Oh, Adrian" you cried out, throwing your head back against the pillow and digging your nails into his back. You could see in his eyes how hard he was trying to concentrate, and you couldn't be happier about how hard you were making it for him. His eyes kept shifting from your breasts to your filthy mouth and he felt like if it weren't for the cameras pointed at him, he would have cummed there and then, and he hated himself for it. What was he, 13? But you were just too hot, there, moaning underneath him, biting your lip in ecstasy and shutting your eyes close from the pleasure. If this is what you looked like when you pretended to have sex, he couldn't imagine what you were like when you did it for real. You moaned again, this time even louder and he snapped out of his thoughts. Right, there was a scene to shoot. "God,Maya" he growled, sending a shiver down your spine. He sounded so sexy. he took your hands in his, pushing them against the mattress, and you couldn't help but wish for a moment that this was really happening, and that you weren't just shooting a corny sex scene. "cut!" Joseph didn't move. He looked at you and bit his lip, he opened his mouth to say something but closed it immediately again. You could see confusion across his eyes. You looked at him with the same stupor and swallowed nervously. "he said cut" "oh yeah, sorry" he said, clearing his trough and getting off of you. What just happened?

"hi" joseph said as he entered your trailer. Oh no, not again. You had just finished shooting the scene and it had been confusingly both the worst and the best thing ever. You needed to get away from him to get a clear head. I mean, it was impossible that you actually fancied him, right? you hated him. You hated him, you really did, but that, unfortunately, didn't exclude the fact that you still wanted to fuck him. Oh god, this was terrible. "Joe, listen I need to go home, so whether this is, can it wait till tomorrow morning?" you asked, getting up from your chair and taking your bag to show him you were being serious. " I just wanted to talk" "about what?" you asked annoyed "about before" You swallowed thickly "there's nothing to talk about" you stated, feigning confidence. "Oh, come on, don't pull that bullshit with me Y/N, I know you felt it too" he said, irritated. "What are you talking about Quinn?" you lied "Listen," he said, coming to stand in front of you" I'm not here to declare my love or any of that bullshit, all right?" You rolled your eyes, there was no point in faking naivete, he obviously had figured you out. "I have a proposal" he bit down a smirk. God, he was so hot and so punchable at the same time. "You let me fuck you this one time, so we can get it out of our systems, and then we can forget about it and go back to hating each other" You chuckled "You're kidding right?" "C'mon, I know you want it Y/N, don't play dumb now" he said irritated, as he brought his right hand up behind your neck. "just once" he placed his other hand on your waist " and then we'll pretend it never happened" he whispered against your neck. His hot breath sent tingles all over your body. You never had much willpower anyway. "Whatever Quinn" you mumbled as you let your bag fall to the ground and grabbed his face, kissing him roughly, your hands grabbing his hair and without doubt messing them up as he gripped your neck and forced his tongue into your mouth, all while stumbling towards the make-up table. You stopped once the back of your legs hit it and without breaking the kiss he leaned down and pushed everything that was on it onto the ground. You gasped, most of that stuff was really expensive. "get on there" he growled, and you did as told. He smirked and opened his mouth but you cut him off before he could say something stupid "Don't even start, I'm just horny" you breathed out."He laughed softly "Well, then that makes two of us sweetheart" he whispered before going back to kissing you. He was in between your legs and you could already feel his erection through trough his pants, so you started grinding against it, desperate for any kind of friction. The bastard grinned at your impatience and abruptly pushed your dress up, starting to caress and squeeze your ass, making you whimper into his mouth. You desperately started to tug at his belt, trying to get it off him. "I knew I was right" he smirked proudly and you rolled your eyes, taking the opportunity to catch your breath. "Shut up and fuck me" you exhaled as you put your hand behind his neck and pulled him down for a desperate kiss. "gladly" he purred as he undid his belt swiftly and pulled down his boxers and pants. He kissed you again, briefly before he moved your panties to the side and pushed into you completely, earning a clamorous moan from you. He smirked and, without even giving you the time to adjust started pounding into you aggressively, making the whole table shake. Everything he hadn't thrown off of it before was now falling on the ground, and probably you would have hated yourself for it tomorrow, but that was a future you problem, present you, was getting fucked out of her mind and had other things to think about. "Lemme see your tits" he said as he grabbed the top of your dress and pushed it downwards, revealing your breasts. He groaned "Fuck yeah", as he continued thrusting into you. "Oh my fucking god Joe!" you shouted as he leaned down to take your right tit into his mouth, and started sucking on it. He took your nipple into his mouth and softly bit it, as his left hand made its way to your clit and started massaging it. You were moaning so loud you were certain people outside could hear, but who cared. "Oh god, please Joe" you cried out as he kept sucking, thrusting, and massaging. This man obviously knew what he was doing. "I-I-I'm gonna cum" you moaned as he let your breast go from his mouth, spread your legs more, and pounded into you even harder, smugly looking straight at you, making your eyes roll in the back of your head. "That's right, cum on my cock Y/N, make me feel how good you can squeeze me" he groaned. "Oh fu-fuck" you stuttered as he sped up his hand's movements. You felt a familiar pressure form your lower belly. He groaned at the feeling "Oh fuck you feel so f-ucking good" he hissed, clearly close too. You were getting closer and closer. "Cum for me baby" he grunted. and you did, a wave of pleasure overwhelmed you as you threw your head back and your eyes fluttered shut while you shouted his name. Joseph groaned loudly at the feeling of your walls tightening around him. "Shit Y/N" he whispered, as he continued pushing into you, making you ride out your high. Just as you came down from it his thrust became sloppy, he was about to come. "O-Oh,f-fuck" he groaned as he pulled out of you at the last second and his cum shot onto your belly and dress. That was gonna be hard to clean. He exhaled deeply and put his head on your shoulder. You stayed there for a few moments. Just silently catching your breath and taking in all that had just happened. He chuckled "that was fun" "it was" you agreed He pushed himself off of you and pulled his pants and boxers up. "I still don't like you" you reminded him. "Oh, don't worry. The feeling's mutual" he grinned.

[hangmanssunnies]

Double Tap

House We Share: Double Tap, Sfumato, Good Comes In 3

Summary: You were hesitant when your friends told you about their other friend who needed a roommate. Living with a man, let alone a Naval aviator, isn't your ideal living situation. However, you are desperate to get out of your current house. So, you will have to suck it up and make a deal with Jake "Hangman" Seresin. Now you just wish he would stop doing things that make you fall in love with him.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman Seresin x Fem! Civilian! Reader, minor Javy "Coyote" Machado x OC

Word count: 19k

AO3 LINK

Warnings: Abuse (Implied and mentioned), confrontation with Abuser, Child abuse (mentioned), Slow burn, Implied calorie counting, routines and compulsions, Jigsaw puzzles, taxes, Neurodivergent coded! Hangman, Fiscally responsible!Hangman, Protective!Hangman. Please let me know if I missed any for this part, I know it is a long one.

Authors Note: This got so completely out of hand. It started as one scene and then grew a mind of its own. Part two is written, just not edited, I'm planning on having that done later this week. Hangman Coyote BFF supremacy.  I apologize for writing the most hyper-specific!Jake you have probably ever read. 85% of his personality is just things I find attractive in men.

Thank you so much if you take a chance to read this work. I hope you enjoy it. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

You had been at your friend Marlee's house for almost an hour before she couldn't stop herself from confronting you. She had at least let you get settled and offered you a drink while pretending to be distracted by the lasagna she was making. She had spun towards you expectantly when it was in the oven, having reached her limit on waiting. 

"What happened?" Marlee asks. 

"It's nothing." You respond. 

"It is something. I don't want to reread your texts back to you, babes."

"Marls," you sigh, briefly closing your eyes, trying to fight the exhaustion you feel. 

"You can't live there anymore. We need to get you out."

"Yeah, let me just move and find a place to live. It's not that easy, Marlee." 

She sighs heavily. "I know, babes, but at least stay here with Javy and me. If he touches you like that again."

"It was just a one-time thing," you quickly cut her off. But, from the pitying look in her eyes, she knows it hasn't been just this one time. 

"If something happened."

"Nothing is going to happen." Marlee was too bright and too good of a friend. She knew something had already happened, and she knew things had been happening. Her frown and eyebrow raise say it all. 

"I can't just crash here," you say. 

"You are always, always welcome."

"You are," a voice pops up, and you both look over to the couch. You thought Marlee's husband, Javy, was thoroughly invested in the game he was playing on his Xbox, but it turns out he had an ear on your conversation. 

It wasn't something that bothered you. You loved Javy, he had been an excellent partner to Marlee, and you considered him a friend. He was fun and easygoing, something you hadn't expected from a Navy man. You also weren't bothered because everyone knew they were the type of couple that told each other absolutely everything. So, Javy would have found out one way or another.

"I know that. Thanks, you two." You tell them, trying to get them off your back. 

"Marlee is right. We can't have anything happening to you."

"Nothing is going to happen to me, Javy," you say, now trying to reassure them and stop this unnecessary worrying. 

"You know. I have a friend who has actually been looking for a roommate." Javy says. 

"You do?" you ask, surprised you hadn't heard about this sooner. 

"Yeah, I mean, he can be a lot. But he is a good guy and a great roommate."

"Who ?" Marlee cuts in. 

"Jake."

"Hangman?"

"Yeah, Hangman." The two of them stare at each other, and you can see that they are having one of those conversations of glances and small expressions you weren't entirely privy to understanding. 

Marlee then shrugs, nodding, and looks back at you, "It would be a nice safe place." 

"I mean, it's an option and would be a nicer place to stay than anything else you'll find. Plus, someone who is not a total stranger as a roommate." Javy tells you. He pulls off his headset and makes his way to the kitchen. He sets his hand on your shoulder and gives you a kind smile. 

"I'm not sure about living with a man."

"If you don't want to live with Jake or you aren't interested, we will find somewhere else. Or you stay here with us, but you can't stay there anymore." The seriousness behind Javy's smile isn't lost on you. So you start to slowly nod. 

"I guess I could at least chat with your friend if y'all think it's a decent option." 

"Yeah, for sure," Javy said with a grin. "I'll ask him about it, then maybe y'all can meet this weekend. We are still having a big bonfire on the beach. I'm sure he will be there."

"Oh, I wasn't planning on going to the bonfire." You start to say, which makes both Javy and Marlee frown.

"Why aren't you coming to the bonfire?"

You tried to think of a valid excuse beyond that being in open public spaces was terrifying to you right now. An excuse past the fact that you knew your bruises wouldn't be gone by Saturday. 

"I've just been stressed about finding a place to live, you know." You gave them both a weak smile, but neither of your friends seemed appeased. 

"Well, now you have a reason to come," Marlee says. 

"Yeah, exactly, and I'll talk to Jake." Javy presses a kiss to your forehead and then a lingering one to Marlee's lips. He returns to the couch, but not before looking at you seriously. "You know if you ever need anything, you call us?"

"Sir, yes sir," you tell him with a laugh, making Marlee giggle too. 

Even with Javy's reassurances, you are unsure about this whole idea. However, whoever this friend Jake is, you know he had to be better than your current living situation. After dinner, Marlee and Javy both reiterate their feelings on the whole issue before you leave their house. You did your best to wave them off and tell them you would see them in a few days.  

When Saturday rolls around, you head to the pin Marlee sent you for the bonfire. You are thankful it is a cooler day and will only be colder once the sun sets. It allows you to not look so out of place in your conservative clothes, ensuring all your bruises are covered. 

You arrive purposefully late and park far from the beach. By the time you make it to the group of people, you have sufficiently hyped yourself up to interact with the others. You decide to ease yourself into the party. You walk around the different coolers, opening them and investigating the available drink options. 

You are in the middle of shuffling through one when you hear a voice behind you.

"Anything specific I can help you find, sweetheart?" You turn around and are met with one of the most attractive men you have ever met. He is tall, with dirty blonde hair and a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose. 

"I'm just browsing," You tell the man with a shrug, proud of yourself for being able to put together a sentence. 

"I think I know what would be perfect for you, sweetheart.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah," He says, flashing you a grin. His smile makes something in your stomach swoop a tiny bit. 

"And, what would that be?" you say, raising an eyebrow. 

"Me, of course."

You can't help the shocked laugh that falls out of your throat. Which just makes his handsome smile widen. 

"I was thinking something a bit stronger, actually."

"I know I look like a tall glass of water but let me tell you, I won't disappoint you."  

"Well, looks certainly can be deceptive."

"That's true. Are you really as sweet as you look?" 

Before you can answer, you hear Javy's voice to your right. "Oh good, you two already met." 

You turn your head to see Javy jogging over. He stops next to you with a smile on his face. You process his words and feel your stomach drop. The incredibly handsome man you were trying to flirt with was Javy's friend. Javy's friend he thought you could live with. 

"There haven't been any formal introductions," you say. 

"Jake Seresin," he says. He sticks out his hand, waiting for you to shake it. You take his hand, give it a firm shake, and share your name. He repeated it softly, giving your hand an extra squeeze before letting go. 

"Javy said you are looking to move," Jake says casually. Your voice seems stuck in your throat. You examine Jake's handsome face again and know you can't do this.

"Yeah, she is. Soon, too." Javy says after you haven't said anything leaving an awkward pause. 

"I have lots of space."

"Oh well, you know." You say, trying to figure out what to say by saying nothing at all. Jake nods along with you, but his eyebrows pull close together while his eyes narrow. 

"Plus, Jake is really clean," Javy adds. 

"That is good to know. Maybe Jake and I can talk about it later?" You say, giving both of them a smile. You turn back to the coolers and grab the first drink you see. 

"Yeah, we can talk about it later. Javy owes me a spike ball game anyways," Jake says. He flashes you another smile while grabbing a High Noon out of the cooler, gesturing for Javy to do the same. You leave them to find Marlee and chat with some other people at the party. 

You are considering how to best say goodbye and leave the party while sitting next to the fire later. You stare into the flames hoping they might provide you answers. 

"You would actually be doing me a huge favor by moving in, "Jake says to you casually. You are startled by his sudden presence, and you look over at him, quirking an eyebrow in response.

"Oh really?" 

"Yeah. I haven't had a roommate for a while, and I would prefer someone who isn't in the military. I don't want to bring work and ranks home. You know?"

"Oh yeah, sure, that makes sense," you say, following his line of logic. 

"Also, rent these days is," Jake doesn't finish the sentence, instead just whistling quietly.

"Yeah, rent is expensive," you laugh. You find it much easier to talk to Jake if you don't have to look directly out at him. 

"You don't have to let me know right now, but I don't have any issues with it."

"We haven't talked about it much," you tell him, surprised he had decided so quickly.

"There is this saying that beggars can't be choosers."

"I would want a roommate contract. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, that would be fine by me, Sugar."

"Okay, cool, but we should think about it."

"Tonight is a party, and we are supposed to be having fun. Not doing business. So, why don't you text me, and we will hash out the details this week. Plus you can see the place, which you would probably want. Maybe you could move in next weekend if we can work it all out?"

Part of you thought you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, so you decided to text Jake throughout the week to hash out the details. And the next thing you know, Javy, Marlee, and Jake are helping you move your stuff. 

Living with Jake wasn't as hard as you worried it would be. In fact, it was much easier than you were anticipating. Jake led his life with strict regiment and routine. It was something that stretched beyond that he was in the military. 

Jake would wake up in the mornings and go on a run before coming home, making breakfast, showering, and going to work. Then he would come home, change and go to the gym, come home, shower again because he needed to, and then eat dinner. Every night if you were home while he was cooking, Jake would always offer you some. That leads you to find out he is a phenomenal chef. 

Then Jake would read in the large armchair in the living room and half-watch whatever you put on the TV to watch yourself. He only requested to use the TV when one of his sports teams was playing or on Wednesday nights, where he would spend an hour and a half playing Animal Crossing with his niece while they facetime. 

You had told Jake that the TV was his, and he didn't have to ask you to use it. Jake just laughed and shrugged before telling you he wasn't the biggest TV guy. Jake had been telling the truth when he said that. You realized that Jake was more interested in his books. If he wasn't reading a book, he sat silently with one of his sudoku puzzles and country music playing on vinyl. Then Jake would go to bed after whatever chores he deemed he should do. 

It was a strictly followed pattern, only differing on Fridays when he would sometimes go out to a bar with the guys or sometimes Saturdays. However, even on the weekends, he would follow the schedule closely. Regardless if he had gone to the bar, he would still wake up outrageously early in the morning, work out, do chores, and then go to the gym again. Sometimes Jake would venture out of the house to see his friends, but more often than not, he was reading or in the workshop in the garage with some project. 

Marlee had not prepared you for how amazingly hot Jake was. When you moved in, he had been very polite, if a bit curt. Never venturing to flirt with you again like when you first met. As the weeks living with Jake passed, though, he definitely warmed up to you. But still never pushed the roommate line between you. 

You worked hard to push your attraction for Jake to the side or shove it into a safe in the back of your mind. That was a challenging task to accomplish because, just like Javy said, Jake was very clean. It wasn't that he was a clean freak per se, but he was definitely an orderly and well-kept person. Everything in the house had a place it belonged. 

Jake always did his dishes and tidied up after himself in your common areas. He also never leaves any of his laundry waiting around. You had watched in a mix of awe and horror the first time he pulled out clothes from the dryer within five minutes of the machine going off. Then Jake started folding, halfway through the laundry, stoping to pull out an iron and ironing board. 

The sight was all so attractive that you had to excuse yourself upstairs. That was something that you often had to do. Anytime you felt heat build in you towards your roommate, you would quickly excuse yourself. You knew giving into your attraction for Jake in any shape or form would not lead anywhere good. You needed a place to live, and this place you had with Jake was way too good to risk anything. 

Given his career choice, it was not entirely surprising how regimented Jake is. However, what did surprise you was when he started to incorporate you into his routines in small ways. Jake would automatically set out an extra plate for you when cooking, and picks up snacks you like from the store. One day you come home and find a second shoe rack by the door just for you. On the days you had to be up for work, you would find that Jake had already put your morning drink together for you when he returned from the gym and was making his own breakfast. You like the steady rhythm and consistency that living with Hangman provides you. It's seamless and easy to fall into step with him. 

You had been living with Jake for a few months, and things were going really well, almost too well you sometimes felt like it was too good to be true. Your nightmares weren't as frequent. You get full nights sleep and feel comfortable here with Jake. The only times you don't feel content are the times that you think about how hot Jake is. Or when Jake does something that makes it hard not to try and smash your lips against his in a heated, passionate kiss. 

Then one day, you get home from work, and worry suddenly sweeps over you as you glance at your phone and realize what time it is. The house is completely dark and quiet. Jake should have been home several hours ago and on his way to the gym already. In fact, right about now was when he should have been getting home from the gym.  

You resist the urge to call Jake and check that he is okay. You know that action would be overstepping the roommate boundaries that exist clearly between you. You tell yourself it's silly to worry all because he wasn't following the schedule you made up for him in your head. It's not like Jake had ever written down his routine and given it to you. Maybe today was a special anniversary, or maybe he had after-work plans you didn't know about. 

Your worry is eased about twenty minutes later when you hear Jake's truck pull into the driveway, followed by the garage door rumbling open. You find yourself easing further into the couch, some of the tension you weren't wholly conscious of easing out of your body.  

Jake comes in, and you cut your eyes over to see him still in his flight suit. He doesn't say anything to you as he unlaces and kicks off his shoes. He passes you while walking to the stairs and manages a short but gruff hello. Then, without another word, he is gone. You stare after his back in shock. Something is definitely not right with Jake. 

He left his shoes sprawled on the ground by the door. It was not a sight you had ever seen in the house, not even the times Jake had stumbled home drunk and giggly. Jake always pulled off his boots, neatly tucking the laces in and then setting them up on his small shoe rack by the door. 

You get up from the couch and walk over to fix his shoes, tucking in the laces. You tell yourself it is so no one will trip over them, not for any other reason. Then you hear Jake's shower turn on, and the water runs much longer than the twenty-minute showers you are used to him taking. It all feels so odd and out of place. You decide to make some pasta for dinner, convinced Jake is planning on not eating at all with how far he is off his schedule. 

You are just finishing dinner when the water in his bathroom finally shuts off. Then fifteen more minutes later, Jake comes downstairs in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a thread-bare Annapolis shirt. He appears to be looking around downstairs, almost a bit dazed and lost. 

"I made dinner. How about you have some?" You call out to him from the kitchen. Jake follows your voice to the kitchen and looks at the food you have made and dishes up. Hesitantly he sits down at the table. 

"If you don't mind."

"Of course not. I know this may shock you since you normally cook, but I can do it too." 

"I've never thought that you couldn't cook." Jake quickly responds. 

"I know, Jake. I'm just teasing you. Now eat up." 

Jake follows orders and takes a bite of the pasta, letting out a small groan. "So good," he mumbles before taking another bite. 

"Do you want the macros?" You ask him conversationally after eating in silence for a few minutes. 

"Oh. No, thank you. I appreciate you making something and sharing. No need for you to put in extra work. I will be fine not tracking my macros for one meal," Jake says. 

"Okay," you say and give him the kindest smile you can think of. You don't want to push him on why he isn't okay. However, you can't stop yourself from sliding the piece of paper you wrote the macros on across the table to him anyways. 

Jake stares at the note card for a long moment and then looks up at you. It's not a look you have ever seen on your roommate's face before. You aren't entirely sure how to decipher the way his green sea-glass eyes are gleaming back at you. He folds the paper once before putting it in his pocket. 

Jake clears his throat, and the edges of his lips quirk up. "Thank you."

"Of course, anytime, Jake," you say back. He puts away his plate a few minutes later after finishing his food. Then packs up the leftovers into some tupperware. 

"I'm going to bed," Jake tells you. Jake doesn't even stop to grab the current book he is in the middle of from where it is placed next to his chair in the living room. 

The moment Jake disappears up the stairs, you are frowning again, considering his behavior. It bugged you, something clearly was off, but you weren't in the position to ask him what it was. As you start to settle down for the evening, you notice that Jake had put it in the laundry basket next to the washer that morning. Seeing that you knew he originally had every intention of starting it before going to the gym that night something that never happened.

You briefly considered that maybe it isn't normal how you have memorized his routine, but also maybe that was just part of living with Jake. You didn't even think before you were throwing his laundry in the washer for him. You stay up to put the clothes in the dryer. Then you find yourself folding items and hanging some of them, not confident that you could iron them correctly. About halfway through the chore, you stop realizing just what you are doing but finish it out, imagining the look on Jake's face when he sees his laundry done. You are in too deep to back out at this point. 

🏡🧩🏡

You knew it wasn't the best idea that morning when you had left to go pick up some of your remaining stuff and random mail from where you used to live. However, you didn't expect it to go as badly as it had. You were still shaking from the interaction you had when you got home. Every moment of the interaction repeats over and over in your head. You hazardously throw your keys into your little key bowl, not caring to notice Jake's there as well. 

You were still trying to take calming breaths and push away the tears streaming down your face. Standing at the entrance to the living room frozen, you aren't sure if you are actually at home or back there with him. 

You startle and jump, letting out a small shriek, hearing a sound in the kitchen. You turn slowly, shocked to see Jake staring at you dressed in his NWUs instead of his flight suit. You are equally surprised by the sight of him home in the middle of the day, in a uniform you rarely see him wear. 

The adrenaline of being scared forces your brain into letting go of the nerves and panic you had barely been keeping in check. Tears spring freely from your eyes as you take gasping breaths. J ake sets down the knife he is holding and takes long strides across the room to quickly reach your side. His hands hover near you but don't actually touch. 

"What's wrong?" Jake asks in a deep voice. 

You just shake your head at him, unable to respond, instead focusing on getting air into your lungs. 

"Can I touch you?" Jake asks then, and that does seem okay, so you jerkily nod your head yes. 

First, his hands settle lightly on your shoulders. Once it seems like you are okay and comfortable with that. Jake goes a step further and wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. You press your face into the material of his shirt. Your hands come up to bunch it slightly on his chest as you find purchase to clutch him closer. 

He makes gentle shushing noises but otherwise doesn't say anything while holding you. He is so warm, and his arms feel strong around you. Jake's hold on you doesn't waiver once while you cry. Only relaxing slightly when your sniffles and crying start to level out and you let go of his shirt. 

You take one more deep breath of him. Jake smells of a pleasant mix of his body wash, y'all's fabric softener, and his cologne. Letting the calming effect of the smell flood your system before letting go of your hold on him completely, only then does Jake let his arms slip away. 

Pulling away from the hug, you shyly look to see Jake's face. You find that he is already looking at you. For one of the first times since you met him, you don't like how Jake's face looks. There is a soft and sad demeanor that you see in his eyes. His eyebrows crease and his lips are pressed into a flat line. You feel embarrassment and shame flood you. The way that you just broke down and cried on your roommate, fully processing in your muddled tired head. 

"You're home," you eventually say, trying to break the ice and put a brave face back on. 

"Yeah, I'm not flying today. So, I had the time to come home for lunch."

"Sorry to interrupt." You say, looking down to examine your feet. 

"You didn't interrupt anything," Jake reassures you. He goes back to the kitchen, and you watch as he continues to cut ingredients for his salad.

"Do you want me to make you anything?" He asks.

"No, thank you. "You say not feeling even a little hungry. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jake asks next. 

"No, thank you," you say again and settle at the kitchen island to watch Jake cut the veggies and toss them in a big bowl. 

"Okay," he says. You like that Jake doesn't push you for things. He respects the boundaries you set and doesn't even try to toe up against them. 

"Am I allowed to know why you aren't flying today? I thought someone had broken in. Plus, I hardly recognize you out of a flight suit."

"You don't like these?" Jake asks, looking at the Navy camo print he is wearing as if this uniform suddenly offended him. 

"I didn't say that," you tell him, giving a small laugh. Obviously, Jake could make anything look good, even things that shouldn't. 

"Can't fly every day." He says with a shrug. "Also, I'm going through some maintenance stuff and checks with my sailors." 

You hum, but otherwise, don't comment watching Jake wash the knife and cutting board he had been using then. Then, after he drys them and puts them away, he turns back to you. 

"There isn't anything to be embarrassed about," he tries to venture lightly. 

"You don't come home and cry on me," you say, frowning. 

"You sure about that one?" He asks, shoving a mouthful of salad into his mouth. 

"Pretty sure that I would remember such an occasion." 

Jake just hums. One of those sounds that makes you feel like he doesn't actually agree. A few bites of his food later, he sets his bowl down. His green gaze is trialed on you, but then he glances at his watch, huffing in annoyance. 

There is a slight caving feeling inside you. You feel bad. How much of Jake's lunch have you taken up? You had never actually seen him come home for lunch before, so he must not get a long time. 

"I do all the time. Maybe just a bit less of the wet physical crying." Jake tells you, putting a container lid on his bowl.

"You could," you utter to him, a little embarrassed. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, wouldn't bother me if you ever needed to. You know. I'm here for you."

"Thank you, Darlin," Jake says. Then glances at his watch again. "I got ten minutes before I have to go. What would you like to do?"

"I'm fine," you tell him. "You should use that time to eat." 

"I'll munch while I'm doing some paperwork later."

That was a lie. You knew that Jake would never eat around paperwork. However, it was the kind of lie that settles warmly. It was one of those lies born with good intentions and made to be soothing. You could never be upset that he is even trying to comfort you at his own expense. 

"I don't want to talk about it, Jake." You reiterate again.  

"I know, and you don't have to. I won't ask again. However, if you ever decide that you do. I'm here for you too. Always." 

"Thank you, Jake. You're a really good roommate."

"I hope you can consider me a friend too?" 

"Of course, we are friends too," you reassure him. Jake's lips quirk upwards, his dimples flashing upon hearing that. 

"Now, I can't go back to work without seeing at least one smile." 

"That's a pretty tall order." 

"Well, they don't call me the best for nothing."

"Do they really call you the best or is that something you just tell people?" You ask him, mostly joking. Jake pretends to take offense, pressing his hand dramatically to his chest. 

"Ma'am, you wound me," Jake says, pouting. 

"I don't know. I think it is a pretty legitimate question." 

"I am the best." 

"And how do they determine that exactly? Who the best is." 

"Well, there are a lot of ways. Many different factors to consider." 

"Oh really?" 

"Yup. Also sorts of stuff, but they get us all together once a year, and we have a competition." 

"What kind of competition?"

"Only the elite members of the Navy participate. We all take turns sliding." 

"Sliding?" 

"Yup," Jake confirms, sounding one hundred percent serious. "We set up a huge slip and slide on the carrier runway. You only get three tries, and then we add them for scoring. I may have ripped off all the skin on my chest last year, but it was worth it to win." 

You can't help but let out a laugh. You picture Hangman competitively sliding down a yellow tarp that doesn't have enough water on it. It's such a silly concept you aren't sure where he came up with it. 

"Ahh there she is," Jake says with a broad smile. 

"I never would have thought that was a skill the Navy values." 

"Yes, Ma'am. It's actually the second part of the Naval academy mission," Jake tells you, still maintaining a serious tone despite his smile. Then Jake stands up straight to his full height in parade rest. 

"To develop Midshipmen morally, mentally and physically and to imbue them with the highest ideals of duty, honor and loyalty in order to graduate leaders who are dedicated to a career of naval service and have potential for future development in mind and character to assume the highest responsibilities of command, citizenship and government." Jake repeats dutifully and then adds. "In addition to putting these ideals to the test by hosting the world's most competitive slip and slide competition. Weirdly, people don't talk about that second part much." 

You only laugh harder, shaking your head at him. "Yeah, an absolute mystery. I can't believe that isn't common knowledge." 

Jake chuckles along with you. Then you two are interrupted by a timer going off from Jake's phone. He sighs and silents it. 

"I'm sorry. I've got to go, sugar. Are you going to be okay?" 

"Yeah. I promise I'm okay. Thank you, Jake." 

He bites his lip and nods at you going to put in his shoes and lace them back up. "Are you going to be home later?" 

"Yeah, I'll be home." 

"We could do something if you're feeling up for it. Or I can pick up takeout." 

"That's sweet, Jake, but you really don't have to." 

"I want to," he says with a shrug. Then checks his reflection in the mirror, making sure he is presentable to go back to work. After that, he turns back to you. 

"I'll think about it." You tell him before playfully shoving him out the door so he isn't late. You try not to melt when Jake gives you another hug. You catch his hand just before he is too out of reach.  

"Thank you, Jake. For making me smile."

"It's the prettiest thing I've seen all day," Jake says, squeezing your hand with his own. His words muddle your brain a little bit. You don't get to say anything else before he heads off to his truck, waving at you one more time and driving off. 

You also pretend you aren't screaming on the inside when Jake comes home from work that night with your favorite food and ice cream. The night feels easy and warm, sitting and eating with Jake. The events of that morning can't cross your mind while Jake tells you all about some of the weird contraband he found in the junior sailors' barracks that day. He is no less than spellbinding. 

🏡🧩🏡

Jake is sitting at the kitchen table when you get home from work. He is surrounded by neatly organized papers spread all along the table in various piles. Jake is wearing a button-down, tie, and slacks that make you do a triple-take on him.

"Welcome home," he says, glancing up from his laptop that is open in front of him. That's when you see he also has a pair of glasses on. 

"Thank you," you say, slowly making your way to the kitchen but still looking at him. 

"What are you working on there?" You ask. 

"Oh, I'm doing my taxes," Jake says while giving you one of his winning smiles. 

"Taxes?"

"Yes, Ma'am"

"I guess that makes sense," you say while looking around the kitchen for a snack. 

After a few minutes of silence, you decide to ask another question. "Do you have a date later?" 

You knew Jake dated. A man who looks like that has to date. However, you had yet to see him ever bring someone home, which felt odd considering everything about Jake, and the persona he liked to put on as Hangman.  

"No. What makes you ask that?" Jake asks you. 

"Oh. I don't know. You're dressed like you are going on a date."

"No, I'm not," he says, looking down at himself. 

You laugh at him and shrug. "If you say so."

"I would never wear this on a date," Jake mutters, clearly offended. 

"Well, then, why are you wearing it?"

"I'm doing taxes," he says again. 

"Yeah, we have covered that. What does that have to do with your clothes?"

"I'm dressed like an accountant," Jake tells you. You can't hold back your giggles at his phrasing and bring a hand up to your mouth to try and stifle them before giving up entirely. 

"What? What's so funny?" 

"Two things," you say, holding up two fingers, finally biting back your giggles. 

"One, the fact that you got dressed up to do your taxes. The second is that being an accountant is a euphemism for being a sex worker." Jake chuckles at your explanation but shrugs. 

"Well, Mrs. Celeste said I should always dress for the day. It helps you present your best self. If you dress the part, it helps you act that part." Jake says that like a well memorized and treasured quote. A saying he clearly remembered with much fondness.  

"And today is my tax day, so I am dressing like a tax professional. I will have you know. Since I started doing them myself, I have never had one problem with my taxes."

You couldn't help but chuckle more at his explanation and give him a fond smile. Sometimes the way Jake was so perfectly built and attuned for the military was endearing. Of course, a career Naval man would think a uniform was essential for each different activity. 

"So, are the glasses part of your tax uniform too?"  

He made a show of pushing the said glasses further up his nose. "Yes, Ma'am. They also are blue light blocking, which helps prevent migraines."

You nod along to his explanation. You finish putting together your snack and lean against the kitchen counter while munching on it. "Who is Mrs. Celeste? A teacher?"

Jake's lips flatten slightly before the expression relaxes just as quickly. "No, Mrs. Celeste is my Babula." 

"Your Grandmother?" You guess. 

"Yeah, sorry. My grandma, but she was strictly Mrs. Celeste growing up, only Babula occasionally." 

"I don't think I've met someone who calls their grandparent by their first name."

"Well, not really her first name. You have to be respectful and throw the Miss in there with it. She is a very particular lady."

"Is it a southern thing?"

"Yeah, maybe," he says with a small laugh. The edges of his lips quirk up, and you have to look away from Jake to distract yourself. It is easy to fall into the trap of how beautiful he is, with the sparkle he can get in his eyes. Or how even the smallest of his smiles makes you want to grin back. 

"So, how are the taxes?" 

"Oh, it's good. I'm almost finished up."

"Awesome, congrats Jake."

"Have you done yours?" He asks you. 

You shake your head and roll your eyes at the idea. "No, I definitely haven't."

"But you got your W2s in the mail last week."

"Jake, are you snooping through my mail?"

He raises both his hands up in defense. "No, I'm not! W2s just have a very particular look." 

"I'm just kidding. I know you wouldn't snoop through my mail. Yeah, I got them, but I've been busy. I guess I should make a Tax Masters appointment or something."

That crease in between Jake's eyebrows appears, the one that haunts you, that you pretend you don't obsess over. Followed by a small frown.

"Tax Master?" He asks, clearly appalled. You shrug back at him, not entirely seeing the issue. 

"I could do them for you," Jake says, then quickly adds on. "I mean, I can help you do them. If you have the time. I'm already dressed for it, and I won't charge you or anything."

"Oh no, Jake, that is so sweet, but I can't ask you to do that."

"No, really, I wouldn't mind. I think it would be fun. Plus, then you will have it done, and you won't have to worry about it." 

"Really, thank you so much, but it's fine." 

Jake's frown deepens at your answer, and he seems almost genuinely upset at your denial of his help. The warm feeling in your chest likes to flip over and grow a little bit more each time he is too sweet in moments like these. 

"You know Javy warned me that you were an asshole when I was going to move in. However, you have not once lived up to that. You could stand to be less nice to me, Jake." You tell him. You mean it to come off as almost flirty and a bit of a joke. However, it doesn't seem to land with him that way. 

The change that comes over Jake isn't something entirely tangible. It is almost like a shift in the air around him rather than anything physical. The way Jake looks at you just feels heavier and more charged. The confidence he always exudes seems to double with how he sits up just the smallest bit straighter but then leans back against his chair casually. 

"Go get your W2s." He tells you in a perfectly level tone, but it has a demanding edge. 

"Jake," you start to say and roll your eyes at him. 

"Nope," Jake says, popping the p. His voice takes on a lower candace, leaving no room for arguments. "I'm not giving you a choice. We are going to do your taxes." 

"No, we aren't doing my taxes." 

"Yes, I am. I can't be caught not living up to my reputation. So, I'm not going to be nice and accept that you don't want to. This is one of the few situations I won't take no for an answer." 

"It was just a joke." 

"No, it wasn't," Jake says, giving you a small shrug. You can't tell if he is actually hurt by how he is acting, but you suspect some part of him was twinged at his best friend's description. 

"It really was, Jake. Javy adores and trusts you. I'm sure he never would have suggested me moving in with you if he actually thought you were an asshole." 

"I know I'm an asshole. It's fine, sugar, don't worry. I'm not going to tattle on you telling me that to Coyote."

"You aren't an ass, though. That was my whole point."

Jake just shook his head at your answer. "I am one, and I don't want that to be a surprise when you inevitably witness it." 

You aren't sure how to respond to that, so you are relieved when Jake changes the topic. "Now, get your tax stuff, so it doesn't take us all night."

"Okay," you sigh, giving in to defeat. Jake gives you a mega-watt smile, and looks back at his computer screen. 

As you are walking up the stairs, you hear him yell across the house. "Dress like your best accountant self!"

"I won't be doing that," you yell back. 

"Please! It's important." Jake yells back.

When you are in your room getting all your stuff and paperwork pilled together. You find yourself opening your closet and pulling out an outfit that you could imagine wearing if you were an accountant.

You also spend several minutes too long wondering what would happen if you went back downstairs in the most provocative lingerie you own. After all, Jake didn't specify which type of accountant to dress up as. You wondered if it would be tempting to Jake. Could you provoke him into falling into lust with you? Tempt him enough that he took you on the dining room table on top of all the Tax paperwork? Jake has expressed attraction to women before, so there must be at least some part of him that is at least a little attracted to you. 

You smash down your thirsty thoughts and try to screw your head back on straight before it can drift too much off on track. When you get back downstairs, Jake is still at the table. You dump all your stuff on an empty spot there. 

Jake looks up from his computer and smiles at you, quirking an eyebrow. Then, Jake speaks to you teasingly, "And here I thought you might dress up as the other type of accountant you were telling me about." 

Your brain has no choice but to start short-circuiting, and you open and close your mouth twice. Jake starts shuffling through your paperwork, looking at what you have brought him. 

"I ordered us some pizza too," he says before you get out a proper response or say anything teasing back to him. 

"Yum. I'm excited," you tell him sliding into a seat and opening up your own laptop. 

He stops his shuffling and examination of the papers to level you with a serious look. "Thank you for indulging me, by the way." 

"Anything for you, Jake," you tell him and mean it. Unfortunately, the way you feel about your roommate is rapidly spiraling out of the tight control you tried to keep it in. 

"I like when we do fun things like this together," Jake says to you, grinning. 

"Me too," you tell him. Then add, "Only you would find taxes fun, though, Hangman."

"I am about to show you just how fun taxes can be and how you can get a great return," Jake says, taking your words in stride. 

Jake does your taxes almost entirely by himself, only asking occasional questions. He also then organizes all of your paperwork in an extra accordion binder he has. The taxes aren't fun, but spending time with Jake is.  

"Thank you," you say to Jake daring to press a soft, affectionate kiss to his cheek. You linger for a moment, the prickle of his end-of-day stubble ticking your lips, but you don't mind it.  When you pull back to gauge his reaction, Jake looks almost pained and upset. You worry for a moment that even just a cheek kiss could make him react this way. You briefly thank god you didn't actually try to seduce him earlier. 

"Always, anytime." He finally says. However, Jake is now glaring down at his keyboard and not looking at you. 

"I hope it wasn't too much trouble," you venture, confused by this mood shift. 

"Sugar?"

"Yes, Jake?" 

"I don't think you should pay so much rent." 

"What?"

"Listen," he runs a hand through his hair, pushing it all out of sorts. "I just don't think it's fair for you to pay so much."

"Of course, it's fair. I live here," you explain. 

"Yeah, but no. I get BAH, and I don't have any student loans from school. Plus, the Navy pays me plenty as an officer. I was paying for this place all alone before you moved in anyways."

"I'm not going to pay less rent because you saw my financials and feel bad." You tell Jake quietly, trying not to actively become upset. 

"Please don't be so stubborn," he pleads with you. 

You cross your arms over your chest, "Take your own advice."

"I'm the one being stubborn?" 

"Yes! You are. You are the most stubborn man I have ever met."

Jake's frown deepens, and that sad look in his eyes at your words starts to break through to you. Then he responds, "I'm sorry. I guess I'll try and work on that." 

Jake starts meticulously putting things away into different folders. He moves through each of his piles on the table and doesn't spare you a second glance. It leaves a crushing feeling in your chest. 

"I'm sorry for snapping at you." 

"There is no need to apologize. I'm the one who is sorry." Jake says, shrugging off your apology. 

"No, you don't need to apologize. I understand why you said what you did. I know you were trying to be sweet." You start to say but are cut off. 

"I wasn't trying to be sweet."

"Oh my god. Okay, fine, trying to be nice, then," you say, rolling your eyes. 

Jake sets down the folder he is currently holding, and it thumps a little bit on the table. The force and loud sound make you flinch. 

"I'm not sweet, nice, good, or kind. Okay? I'm not any of those things. I call things how I see them. I look at facts, figures, and numbers. Then I run calculations and act accordingly."

"And how is it mathematically possible that me paying less rent possibly works out for you, Jake? You will be losing money." As he shakes his head, he huffs at your words a little bit like they are funny. 

"You could do a lot and make a lot of gains if you paid less rent, and I don't mind picking up the extra amount. You might be one of the few people I haven't hated living with. I don't want you figuring out you need to live somewhere cheaper and moving out on me. So, I'm not being nice. I'm being a selfish asshole." Jake clenches his fists hard, and you see his knuckles start to turn paler. With a deep breath, he relaxes and shrugs. Loosening the tight coil of his muscles, Jake gives you a curt tight lipped smile with a nod. "I'm just a selfish asshole, okay?"

"Please stop. Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true," he says, rolling those beautiful eyes at you. 

"It's not true. Also, I would prefer if you don't use the word selfish around me, please." You say in a surprisingly steady voice. You don't really want to get triggered right now, and you could only hope that you wouldn't have to explain triggers to Jake. It takes him one moment to think and another to process before he says anything. 

"Oh fuck. I'm so sorry. I won't use it again." Jake promises, no questions asked. His words blow up a balloon in your diaphragm, making it feel like your breath is about to catch. Then he adds on, "If there are any other words…" He looks around and grabs a loose pen and one of his notebooks. Jake slides them across the table to you. "Write them down. Maybe? If you can." 

The warmth Jake inspires in your chest is unparalleled and drowns out anything you can think of aside from how endearing he can be and how fond you are of him. Jake doesn't take the lack of response from you well.  

"I'm sorry," he apologizes again. You spring from where you had been sitting, walking slowly and deliberately toward him. You make sure to give him plenty of time to protest and say something. 

Jake looks steadily back at you. However, he looks like he is preparing himself to be slapped or punished, holding perfectly still. Instead, though, you wrap Jake in a tight hug. He is stiff as a board beneath you. After a long moment, as you consider pulling away, Jake relaxes and wraps his arms around you. They are wrapped loosely at first but then tighten in small intervals until Jake is practically clinging to you. 

"You are so good," you whisper to him, a little dazed. You are almost stunned by how desperately Jake tries to pretend otherwise. 

"Don't say that," Jake whispers in a broken voice, hugging you a bit tighter. 

"Too good." You left the words for me unsaid, but you felt them. 

"I'm really not."

"It's okay if you don't see it. I see it for you. I'll make sure everyone else sees, too," you tell Jake curling your hands into a fist in his shirt. 

He doesn't say anything but keeps holding you tightly. You don't know how long the two of you stay embraced like that until Jake finally eases his grip on you, and you reluctantly pull away from him as well. 

He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. "Please stop paying so much in rent," he requests again. 

"That will not be happening, Hangman."

"So stubborn." He sighs. Jake kisses your forehead again. He leaves his lips lingering, and you start to count the breaths memorizing how warm his lips are. Three breaths later, he is pulling away. Jake grabs his laptop and a stack of folders heading upstairs without another word to you. 

You stare after him for a while, trying to parse out the mystery Jake presents, and coming up a bit short, just like you always did. He is one of the most outwardly confident men you have ever met. Yet, other times, Jake is the first person to make a self-deprecating comment about himself. You swallow down how much you desire more from him, wishing for more, knowing you can't and shouldn't have it.  

🏡🧩🏡

You and Jake were lounging on the couch. He was scrolling on his phone, avoiding going to the gym, half-heartedly trying to convince you to go with him. You were also scrolling your phone while deflecting Jake’s offers. 

That was when your doorbell rang, followed by heavy knocking. You and Jake both look up at each other. He raises his eyebrows, and you just shrug, having no idea who could be at the door. Jake looks back to his phone, clearly ready to ignore it, when the doorbell rings twice more, and the pounding on the door gets louder. Jake sighs and gets up, walking across the house towards the noise. 

“Hold your horses out there!” Jake yells towards the door before opening it. 

You wait for a moment, trying to hear who it is, curious about who would be so rude and what they needed. However, you don’t hear anything from where you are on the couch. So you stand and follow Jake into the entry hallway. 

“Sir, I am going to have to ask you to leave.” You hear Jake say. He is standing at his full height in the door frame. 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” You hear from on the other side of the door. 

Nervousness shoots through your whole body hearing that voice. Anxiety immediately pops up, and your stomach drops. You know that voice. You have heard it a thousand times before. Why was he here? How was he here? 

“I asked you to leave, Sir.”

“Just tell that little bitch that —”

Jake steps further forward onto the front porch. “Now, we don’t speak about ladies like that where I am from. And I’m going to ask that you act accordingly while at my home, Sir.” Jake cuts him off with that well mannered southern military niceness. 

“I don’t give a fuck where you are from.”

You flinch at his tone of voice, feeling bile rise up in your throat. You lean against the wall slapping your hand over your mouth, trying to prevent yourself from throwing up. 

“I asked you politely to leave. I won’t ask again. I can call you a taxi or an uber. But don’t you dare take one more step on my front porch.” Jake says in a deep tone. You are hit with the sudden, horrifying realization that he is going to hurt Jake, and that is something you just won’t let happen. 

You are trying to go through possibilities in your head. Anyway, this could shake out; it would be bad for Jake. Jake would either get hurt and get in trouble, or he would kick ass and gets in worse trouble. This would end badly; either way, Jake is going to get in trouble, and it would be your fault. You would be responsible because you caused this situation. Jake was going to pay the consequences all because he was trying to protect you. You were roommates, so Jake must think he has some obligation to protect you. 

You feel swamped in stress knowing how easily Jake can escalate a situation and provoke someone; sometimes, all it takes for him is one well-placed smile. That stress is finally what unfreezes you, and you stumble towards the front door. 

Jake’s large, broad form still mostly hides your view of the other side, but you cautiously approach and set your hand gently on the back of his shoulder. You feel how tense Jake’s muscles are under your hand and can see it in the line of the back of his neck. 

“Sugar, I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Jake says in a deep voice. He doesn’t budge an inch or look back toward you. “But I would like to suggest that you go back inside. I have this handled.” 

You want to cry. You want to cry for so many reasons: cry because you are in this situation, that you have to deal with this again, that you feel so small. However, you mostly want to cry because Jake “Hangman” Seresin is such a good man. It’s startling sometimes, not because it’s really unexpected, but rather that it is so completely and bluntly genuine. 

Having Jake here defending you, trying to protect you from the person who has probably scared you most in your life, it feels so silly to pretend like you don’t have feelings for him, to pretend that you aren’t more in love with him than you ought to be.

The realization doesn’t really feel shocking; it is closer to acceptance. A given truth that is part of your life now. An empowering truth that swells in your bones like a swift tide, filling up the spaces that have been empty for so long. 

You love Jake more than you are scared. The warmth of affection towards him is so hot it burns out the freezing ice in your veins and the numbness in your fingers. You love him, and you will be damned if you let Jake be hurt, touched, tainted, or affected by this man who has hurt you. It seems cliché that loving someone like this is enough for you to finally break through the barrier of fear you have lived your whole life in. However, now it just feels so simple. 

Your heart is beating hard. The adrenaline is pumping through you so strongly that you can hear it echoing in your ears. Your hand slides up Jake’s back to his bicep, and you give him a gentle push. Jake shifts with the movement. He slides to the right so you can finally fully see the front porch. However, he doesn’t move enough that you are fully exposed. Jake’s body is still partially concealing you from view. 

Then you hear your name, and your attention snaps away from its hyper-focus on Jake. You turn it forward and brace yourself. You drift your eyes to the ground, landing on the feet of your visitor, staying there for a minute before meeting his burning eyes. 

“Hello, Dad.” 

“Ah, so she is here,” your father says, throwing his hands up and glaring at Jake. You can smell the booze on him from the doorway. It makes your stomach turn. You resist the urge to wretch, squeezing your hand, which is still on Jake’s bicep. He flexes, and his bicep digs into his shirt as your nails also dig in. You don’t like those angry, hateful eyes on your Jake. Jake doesn’t budge an inch or react to your nails on his skin.

“What are you doing here, Dad?” You ask him. Your hold on Jake acting like an anchor point for you. 

“You don’t bother to answer my texts or anyone else’s calls and texts. Just because you moved out doesn’t mean you get to be a selfish bitch” your dad spits out. 

“I’ve been pretty busy,” you defend yourself in a small voice.  

“Oh, I bet you have been so busy. What are you doing these days?” He growls at you. “You know it doesn’t really count as moving out if you are spreading your legs to pay for it.” 

You flinch, your hand falling from Jake’s arm and balling into a tight fist at your side. You hate how easily he can make you feel small, even when you are angry. 

“Watch your mouth,” Jake hisses, rejoining the conversation. You glance at him, and Hangman is shaking with contained rage. You know this is not a good situation; anytime, someone could blow up. 

“You should go inside, Hangman,” you tell him gently. 

“Absolutely not,” Jake responds instantly. 

“So you are playing the part of a pathetic little whore wife for this pretty boy.” Your dad says, cutting in. 

You grit your teeth as he continues on. “Come on. I thought you gave up pussies after our talk when you were in high school.” 

With the reminder of just what he is referring to, You are overcome with anger, and you finally can’t take it anymore. You recognize his words for what they are, a direct bait at Jake and undercutting you. It makes you so angry you start shaking. Tears burst from your eyes, trying to let off some steam bubbling inside you. It boils up, so you can’t take it anymore, and you whisper, “Shut up.” 

“What?” Your dad asks, clearly shocked. You take a step forward fueled by your anger. 

“Shut the fuck up.” You pronounce each word slowly. Then continue on, “I’m tired of this. You don’t get to be mean to me and still expect a relationship with me. You don’t get to hit me, yell at me, and abuse me just to show up at my house on your bullshit. And you sure as fuck don’t get to say anything about Jake.” You suck in a rapid breath, the words fueling the fire in you. Your angerburning brighter with every word. 

“You made me think that kind, decent men didn’t exist, Dad, but Jake is good. He isn’t a pretty boy. He is smart, sweet, strong, and kind. I will not hear you say one more thing about him. Ever.” You punctuate the sentence with a jab of your index finger at him. He looks like he might be cowed, and before you can even finish a prayer that he will be done, the fire in his eyes lits again. 

“You could have at least found someone who stands up for you. A real man.” Your dad isn’t even looking at you when he says it. Instead, he is staring at Jake. 

“That’s a rather rude thing to say about an active duty Naval Officer,” you hiss. Your dad takes a step back, his eyebrows raising, reexamining Jake. He shifts his weight between his feet nervously. 

“You aren’t welcome at our home. So leave and crawl back into the bottle you drank before coming here. Don’t come back, Dad. I don’t want to see you.” 

You try to force your body to relax, but the adrenaline is still pumping hard in your veins. So, you start to walk backward back into the house. Jake still hasn’t taken his eyes off your dad, and he makes no move to come with you back into the house. 

“Jake?” You ask. 

“Just give me a minute, sweetheart. I need to have a talk with your old man here and make sure that he makes it home.”

“I don’t want him near you.” 

Your dad still looks blown away by this turn of events. Like he is scrambling to put words together. He keeps looking back and forth between you and Jake. 

Jake breathes out heavily through his nose. He turns his head enough to glance at you. Whatever he sees on your face must break his resolve. Jake clenches his jaw, and you watch the muscle flex once, then twice. After that, he rolls his shoulders, and it’s like Hangman is physically able to just shrug the tension of the situation off. 

“Get home safe, Sir. I suggest doing so soon. MAs are known to drive down our street.” Jake says it in a light, easygoing tone, border lining on cheery. Then, plastering that practiced, perfect smile on his face, Jake nods his head toward your dad and comes back into the house. 

Jake closes the door but doesn’t move, staring out the frosted window on the front door. His body is tense again, standing rigidly at his full height. You are still shaking from anger. You slump against Jake’s back, letting your body weight shift into his. One of his arms bends backward a bit awkwardly, sitting on your waist. His large palm is burning hot. You can feel it through the fabric of your clothes. Then Jake’s fingers flex to give you a small squeeze of reassurance. 

When Jake finally does move, it is just to turn away from the door and wrap you tightly in his arms. You enjoy the warmth of his strong embrace, feeling exhausted as the adrenaline starts to fade. Jake is still shaking, though. 

“He’s gone,” Jake says into the crown of your head. You let a little sigh escape you, feeling a bit more of the tension release. 

“Good,” you manage to tell him. 

“I wanted to defend you. I wanted to slam his face so hard into the porch that he wouldn’t ever be able to open his mouth again. Wanted to tell him how you are—”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you cut Jake off before he can continue. You don’t want to know what he thinks about you right now. You can’t handle whatever words could spill out of his mouth next. 

“I’ll make sure he never comes back here,” Jake says, his voice dropping, and you feel the rage contained in him, the subtle shake and heat coming from how tense he is. 

“I don’t want him near you. If something happened to you because of him….” you trail off. Your hands wander the expanse of Jake’s back in an almost soothing motion. However, you don’t know who it is soothing more, you or him. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

He takes a deep breath and then releases it in a heavy sigh. “What if you just give me his full name and social security number? You wouldn’t have to know about anything else.”

“Jake,” you whisper in a tone that is almost reminiscent of amusement. 

Jake sighs again. He draws back from your hug and cups your face. He swipes his thumb across your cheekbone, wiping away the tears that have been lingering. 

“You are the kindest, most compassionate person I have ever met,” Jake whispers. Considering how he is looking at you with a glimmer in his eyes, it’s clear the emotions of the situation are still running rampant. That look, paired with how he is holding you, makes you think Jake might be about to kiss you.  

“No, No. Stop.” You don’t know if you are trying to ask him not to kiss you or to stop talking. Either way, you feel like you might explode if this interaction isn’t over soon. 

“Yes,” Jake says. “Let me, please.” 

His thumb is still tracing along your cheek, and you can’t help yourself from leaning a tiny bit into his palm. An action that momentarily freezes his thumb before it picks up steadily again. Not hearing an explicit no from you again, Jake continues on. 

“That man has no say over you. Who you are is so stunning. You never deserved to be treated the way you were. I am so sorry you ever had to go through that. I am so sorry he showed up here. You don’t owe him a single second of your time or attention. You are valuable. You are amazing. He is trying to make you small because he sees how good you are.” 

A shudder racks through your body, hearing Jake’s words, and fresh tears start to fall unprompted from your eyes. As soon as they do, though, Jake pushes them away. “I am so proud of you for getting away from him. You are so strong and brave. It makes me awed. I’m so glad that you moved in here. You are…” Jake doesn’t finish the sentence, he seems to lose his train of thought. His mouth parts a little bit, and his eyes flash down to glance at your lips. 

Jake is going to kiss you, and it might possibly be the worst thing that could happen. If he kisses you right now because of your dad, you know you might break into a million different pieces. You don’t want Jake to kiss you for any reason but pure desire and affection. You don’t want him to kiss you in comfort, or pity, or convenience, or as an outlet. You don’t want him to kiss you just because emotions are running high from the incident that just happened. Most of all, you don’t want Jake to kiss you and not mean it. You don’t want him to kiss you without the intention of kissing you again. 

So, even though you are desperate to feel his lips, and memorize their shape, how they feel against yours. Desperate to discover what he tastes like, curl your fingers in his hair and take comfort in the form of his body. You know you can’t, it has the power to break you, and you already feel so broken and exhausted. 

You cover the hand Jake has on your face with your own and pull it away. However, you don’t immediately let go holding his large palm. Hangman takes your hint and steps backward, giving you a little space so that he is pressed against the door again. You decide to thread your fingers with his. Jake’s skin is still almost hot to the touch in your hand.

“Thank you, Jake,” You finally say, meeting his piercing green eyes again. You squeeze the hand you are holding. He gives you a tight nod and then tips his head upwards, so he is looking at the ceiling. Jake rests his head against the door as well and closes his eyes. 

You observe him for a moment, then you go to release the hand you are holding. Jake stops you, though, his hand tightening as yours loosens, and you try to pull away. You give a little tug, and he tightens his fingers even more. Jake’s head is still tipped, and you hear him sucking in a deep breath before blowing it out.

 “Please don’t let go,” he begs you. Jake’s eyes flash open again, and he is looking down his nose at you. “I just, I need you.”

You inhale sharply at his phrasing, and he sighs heavily. “I might do something terrible if you let go of me. If you don’t need me here, there won’t be anything to stop me.” 

“You’re not going to do anything terrible,” You say, retangling your fingers with his. Jake’s hand flexes in yours, and he takes another big breath. 

“I’ll make sure he loses our address and forgets it too. Make sure he doesn’t remember anything at all anymore. I’ll—”

“You’ll stay right here, Jake.”

He lifts his head so it isn’t tilted against the door anymore and stares down at you. He looks like he is holding on to every word you are saying to keep his sanity. His skin is flushed from anger, and his palm shakes slightly in yours. You were in awe he was able to hold back this reaction so long, remaining calm and collected throughout the entire encounter. 

“You will stay here with me, Jake. I need you.” 

“Yeah?” He asks shakily. 

“Yeah. Need your help, Jake.”

There is a low rumble in his chest, almost resembling the hum it was probably supposed to be. You step closer to Jake, once again closing the gap between you.

“Tell me what you need.” It comes out as a demand, and he seems to realize that when he adds on a small quick “Please.”

You look at him then, trying to read his face and those eyes that haunt your dreams. You examine the creases and lines his face makes with the severe angry look he has plastered on. You take the time to observe how his hair is hazardously falling out of place for how many times he has run his hand through it. You don’t really find any of the answers you are looking for. You just find Jake. And Jake is an oh-so-wondrous thing to find. 

You step closer to him and tug the hold he has on your hand again. His nose scrunches for a moment, and his frown tightens. His eyes lift upwards towards the ceiling again as his jaw clenches; he lets go of your hand. Jake’s hand falls heavily back until it hits the door making a smacking sound. You flinch at the sound but take another step forward, crowding Jake against the door. You lift your hand up to trace over his neck and then settle on his face, encouraging him to adjust his gaze back to you. He follows direction and leans into your hold, just like you leaned into his earlier. 

“Need you to stay with me,” you start slowly, encouraged as Jake nods his head in a small jerk. 

“I need you to leave the front door.” 

He considers your words for a moment, then shakes his head. “I don’t think I can do that. I’m sorry, sugar. I need to protect you.” 

“There is no one in the world I feel safer with than you, Jake.” He squeezes his eyes tightly closed at those words and pulls in a ragged breath. “So, you can’t leave me alone here.”

He nods again but still has his eyes closed. “Ain’t leaving. You need me.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Can I hold you?” Jake asks, then once again remembers his manners throwing out another small, please. 

“Yes, please,” you whisper. Jake doesn’t waste a moment before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you snuggly against him. The change of angle causes your hand to slip from his face, so you wrap it around his neck instead, your fingers drifting against the short hairs there. You go to wrap your other arm around his waist but instead awkwardly hit the front door. You hiss out a small breath at the momentary pain. 

Jake responds to the sound. He starts walking forward, making you walk backward. Walking while he is wrapped around you proves to be difficult, and you stumble a little. That seems to be all Jake needs; he wraps his arms under your ass and lifts you. 

You are terrified at the concept that Jake is going to try to carry you, and you open your mouth to protest. However, with only one small grunt that honestly sounded more like pure sex with how low and husky it is, Jake is carrying you down the hallway. You wrap your arm around his neck more securely, adding a second one for more leverage. 

Jake doesn’t stop to set you on the couch like you had expected. Instead, he continues up the stairs and right into his room. He sets you on his bed gently, and you unwrap your arms from his neck, letting him pull away. Jake goes back to the door of his room, closes it, and clicks the lock into place. You raise an eyebrow at his action.

"That’s rather presumptuous, Hangman.” 

“What?” He looks at you confused before he looks back at his door. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I wasn’t, I’m not.”

You shush him motioning towards yourself to try and get him to come closer again. “I know.” 

Jake comes back to your side. Now that you have been given the temporary clearance to freely touch him, you cannot stop yourself. Jake sits next to you on the bed, and you are scooting closer so that your thighs are flush side by side. Jake throws an arm across your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him. 

“Do you need to talk about it?” He asks you softly. You let a hollow dry laugh at his question, your laughter starts to devolve until it’s nearly hysteric giggling. Jake takes it in stride, holding you close and his thumb drawing small soothing back-and-forth shapes. After you are almost breathless and heaving, you finally start to recover. 

“I don’t want to talk about it, but I definitely need to. Not with you, though, Jake.”

“Why not me?”

“Because it’s the kind of fucked you talk to a therapist about.”

“I’m a great listener.”

“I know you are, but this isn’t your baggage to pack around and deal with, Jake.”

“Baggage? Sugar, that’s why we have the attic. If that isn’t enough space, or you fill it up. I’ll build a shed in the backyard.”

“What if that’s not enough room?”

“Then we have the garage. We’ll just park in the driveway.”

“You would give up your shop?” You ask, thinking of Jake’s favorite place in the house. 

“Yup,” Jake says without hesitating. “And after that, well, I’ve never been too fond of the extra guest room anyway.” 

“If that’s all not enough?”

“Then we’ll move. Or we go through it until we find some we can let go of.” Jake says, his free hand crossing his body to settle warmly on your knee. 

“It’s not physical baggage.”

“I know it’s not.” 

The feeling of affection you feel for him grows even more. Every time you think that there is no way possible you can fall further in love with him, Jake turns around and proves you wrong. He does some kind, funny, sweet, unexpected thing that makes you fall a little harder. 

You lift your head and look at him. Jake’s eyes meet your own, the severe stormy look in them a little less present. He is a bit more at ease, no longer shaking with anger. You let your eyes fall to his lips. You briefly think you love him so much it might be worth the risk to shift forward and kiss him. That maybe it wouldn’t lead to disaster like you’ve convinced yourself it would.

“What’s your favorite comfort movie?” Jake asks, breaking you from your trance. You shift a bit further away from him but not far before giving him an answer. 

The two of you watch your favorite comfort movie. You are cuddled into Jake’s side the whole time. The two of you had shifted back into the bed, cuddled close while watching the wall-mounted TV in Jake’s room. Exhaustion hits you like a wall as the adrenaline leaves your system, accompanied by the heat radiating off of Jake, the way everything smells like him, and his Tempurpedic bed; you relax more than you have in a long time. 

As you start to drift asleep against Jake’s chest, his heartbeat has a steady, soothing rhythm under your ear. You think out of all the times you have dreamed of falling asleep with Jake in his bed, none of those fantasies come even close to how good it actually feels. None of your dreams prepared you for how safe you would feel.

Your dreams also didn’t prepare you for sneaking back to your room at three in the morning when you woke up. Or pretending the next day that nothing had happened. After all, nothing had happened except some tense moments and Jake getting a glimpse of your past. You don’t say anything, and he doesn’t, either. You catch him watching you closer than he would typically for the next few days. 

More time starts to pass, and you are thankful that nothing was risked or changed between you and Jake or has affected you as roommates. There are only the slightest moments when both of you are much more casual about physical affection. Hugging Jake was now a commonplace part of your day, and you occasionally catch yourself daydreaming about what it felt like to fall asleep in his bed. 

🏡🧩🏡

You had started to pick up what the signs were when Jake wasn't okay, and something was bothering him pretty early into moving in. He had some pretty obvious tells. However, something had been really really bothering him for a while now. He didn't say anything to you, but he didn't have to; Jake's mannerisms gave him away. Jake wasn't following his routine and had started obsessively cleaning.

The other night, he knocked on your door, bursting open seconds after you told Jake he could come in. Then Hangman had all but begged you to let him deep clean your room. When you told Jake no, he gave you a look like you just insulted his Babula and stalked out of the room. Half an hour later, he was back in your doorway, asking the same question phrased slightly differently. You had finally given in after his second time double-checking. However, you insisted that you helped and supervised his cleaning. Once you agreed, Jake had done his happy dance. It was so cute it managed to cover the embarrassment that was crawling in you at letting someone else, let alone the man you loved your roommate, clean your room. 

The next day Hangman decided to reorganize all the bookshelves. First by color, then by genre, and even one time by the number of pages. His last reorganization was to put them all back to by author's last name. This was only after Jake talked to you for over an hour about the pros and cons of the Dewey decimal system in modern library science. 

After the books, you come home, and there is a puzzle on the table. A 2500-piece puzzle of the painting Meeting On The Turret Stairs. Jake works on it constantly. Only stopping to go to work and the gym. For three days, he doesn't read and doesn't do his sudoku. Jake doesn't sit with you in the living room at night. Instead, he just works on his puzzle, blowing past his typical bedtime every night. Then he stops going to the gym, and a day after that, he cancels his weekly call with his niece. That's when you know without a shadow of a doubt that whatever is bothering Jake must be significant. 

Finally, you can't bite your tongue or try to keep your nose out of his business anymore. The concern you feel is too much to handle. You had gotten up at 3 am for some water, and Jake was still puzzling at the table. 

"How's it going, Sport?"

"No, I'm Hangman," Jake answers in a quiet voice. 

"What?" you ask him, confused. 

"Not my callsign," Jake mumbles to you. You squint and try to piece together what he means in your still half-asleep brain. 

"You know someone named Sport?"

Jake just shrugs his shoulders, engrossed in his task. "There are worse callsigns to have." 

"Like Hangman?" You tease him. Jake finally looks up at you when you say that. Jake's eyes are bloodshot, and he has a hurt look. The small frown, paired with his glassy tired eyes, makes you feel like you just kicked a puppy. 

"Hangman is cool," Jake protests. 

"Hangman is very cool," you tell him placatingly, holding up your hands in surrender. 

 "You don't actually think it's cool," Jake whispers, his tired eyes falling back to his puzzle. Jake sounds so sad about it that your feet are moving before your brain, and you are sliding next to him on the bench for the long side of the table.

"Hangman is cool," You say and then nudge him affectionately with your shoulder. "You are cool." 

His lips quirk upwards from his frown before falling again. “Well, I am the Hangman.” 

"How is the puzzle going?"

"Fine, good. I like puzzling."

"You have done other puzzles?" You ask. 

"Yeah, I have a whole box full."

You hum at his words, tiredly wiping your eyes. "You should have been Puzzleman." 

Jake's eyes flash over to yours, slightly worried. "Do not ever say that around Coyote." 

"Hangman, It's three AM." He looks surprised to hear the time, and you watch him turn his wrist to confirm the time on his watch.

"Go to bed," You add softly. 

"I like when you call me Jake." 

"Then why do you listen better when I call you Hangman?" 

"Hmm, maybe because that's the name I hear most often. Maybe because it's easy to be Hangman."

"Is it hard to be Jake?" You ask him gently. 

Jake is quiet for a long moment after your question. Before answering, he sets the piece he had been holding back in its color pile. All he gives you is a whispered, "Sometimes."

You aren't sure what to say, so instead, you put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it. "It's time for bed, Jake. It'll be here in the morning." 

Jake nods his head, listening to you. You get the water you initially came downstairs for and wait until Jake starts up the stairs. Following behind him, you make sure he goes into his room. You aren't really eased about the situation when he shuts the door. However, you are glad he will at least get some sleep. 

Before you go back to bed, you shoot your group chat with Marlee and Javy a text. 

Have you ever seen Jake do a puzzle?

You wake up to texts from Javy and Marlee, both asking all kinds of questions like: what you meant? What kind of puzzle? With how many pieces? And, how long has Jake been working on it?  

From the questions alone, you gather that your worries are correct and Jake puzzling is not a good thing. Getting out of bed, you make yourself presentable enough to venture out of your room and downstairs. 

In the mid-morning light, you are once again greeted with the sight of Jake hunched over his puzzle. A steaming cup of tea sitting next to him, and Chris LeDoux playing from the record player. 

"Good morning," you say. 

"Morning, sugar," Jake says back. You are glad to get a response, but the worry is still gnawing at you. You start putting together your own morning drink, and your eyes keep drifting back to him. 

"Jake, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." He says, not looking away from the puzzle piece he is currently studying. 

You stop leaning against the counter, taking your drink with you and walk over to his side. Jake is completing this puzzle concerningly fast; you notice examining his progress this morning alone. He keeps staring at the piece in his hand, unblinking even as you approach. You watch him for a few more moments before deciding it's time for you to intervene. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" You pose cautiously. His eyebrows crease, and he still doesn't look away from the puzzle. 

"About the puzzle?" he asks you in a hopeful tone. 

"No, Jake. About what's bothering you." 

He finally does spare you a glance, and you don't like how dull his green sea glass eyes are. The normally vibrant, mischievous glint isn't present, and they are slightly bloodshot and red, even after you forced him to get some sleep. 

"It's fine. I'm fine. Just work stuff. I've got to finish this puzzle." He tells you, then looks away. 

You frown at Jake's answer. Puzzles are supposed to be fun, and you don't think this is actually a healthy, cathartic activity for Jake anymore. You almost preferred his book reorganization or when he went to every door and oiled the hinges, the top and bottom hinges twice but the middle ones only once. When you asked why not the middle one twice? Jake had told you something about middle children that had made you laugh. 

While Jake normally released stress through organization, order, and control. The frenzy and energy he has with this puzzle is different. This wasn't like the month after you moved in, and he decided to rearrange his shop in the garage. Jake had reorganized his tools, labeling where they all went. After that, he made you a booklet of where everything in the garage was located, just in case you wanted to use something. Jake was very genuine about it, too. As if he really believed you were about to start borrowing his screwdrivers, saws, wrenches, lathe, and various other tools. 

Your frown deepens, and you pull out your phone, shooting a text to your group chat with Marlee and Javy. Answering some of their questions from the morning and shooting back a request of your own. 

After texting with them for a few minutes, you set your phone down on the table, taking the spot next to Jake. He gives you another short look but doesn't say anything. You take a moment to look at the piece he has been staring at for over five minutes at this point. 

Taking it gently from his grasp, you examine it yourself. A moment later, you place the puzzle piece into the correct spot. Jake ghosts over the piece you just placed and taps it twice as your hand retreats. 

"You got to tap it into place," he tells you softly. Then Jake is back digging through his piles, looking for the next piece. 

You help Jake with his puzzle for a little bit, pleasantly surprised at the textured surface of the pieces, enjoying how tactile they are. You know this must be a very expensive and nice puzzle. Any time you place a piece, you make sure to tap it twice for Jake. Each time you do, Jake gives a small nod of approval. The one time you forget, his fingers quickly find the piece again and tap it twice with a small annoyed huff. You don't try and coax Jake into a conversation again, simply enjoying just being with him. 

Y'all's work is broken a while later by the doorbell ringing. The sound startles Jake, and he jumps in his seat and his head snapping towards the door. You place a hand on his shoulder again to try and ease the sudden tension.

 "It's okay," you tell him quietly, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze. "I'll go get it."

"No, I can get it," Jake says, starting to stand up. You know he doesn't like you to answer the front door anymore. He hasn't ever since your dad showed up unannounced. Jake has never explicitly told you he doesn't want you to answer the door. However, you have picked up on it because he has not let you answer the door once since the incident. One time Jake had even sprinted across the house to beat you to the door. 

"Don't worry. I know who it is," you say. Jake gives you a concerned look but then nods a little bit. His eyes trail after you as you make your way to the entry hall. 

You open the door to Javy's tall form and are immediately wrapped in a tight warm hug. You lean into his embrace, enjoying the comfort for a moment. 

"Is it really bad?" Javy asks you in a low voice when you pull away from his hug. 

You shrug but then follow it up with a nod. "Yeah. I mean, I don't know. Maybe not? But it's the worst I have ever seen." 

Javy gives you another reassuring squeeze before he saunters into the house towards the living area. Jake's eyes are trained on the hallway, clearly waiting for you to come back. However, when he sees Javy, he blanches, dropping his eyes back to the puzzle. Jake's shoulders hunching tight almost up to his ears. 

"Hey, Hangman," Javy hums. 

"Machado," Jake says gruffly, fiddling with a piece. 

Javy shocks you by not immediately going over to Jake. Instead, he meanders over to your TV. He shocks you even more by opening a drawer in the entertainment center and pulling out an Xbox. Javy starts hooking up the console, and you shift your eyes to Jake again. 

He is still sitting there digging through his puzzle pieces. You aren't sure what to do. If you should leave the two of them alone, join Javy in the living room, or go back to the table with Jake. So instead, you end up in a weird middle ground lingering in the hallway. Finally, when Javy has everything set up, and the Xbox booted on, he goes over to Jake. Coyote sets his hands down so hard on Jake's shoulders that it jostles the blond a bit. 

"Wow, buddy, this is a nice puzzle," Javy says casually. 

Jake just hums in response, placing a puzzle piece and tapping it twice. Only answering once he picks up another piece. "It's a watercolor by Frederic William Burton. He painted it in — "

"It's time for a break, Hangman," Coyote says, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

"Naw, you see this section," Jake gestures generally towards the entire surface area of the puzzle. "It's almost done."

"Nope, it's break time," Javy repeats more firmly. 

Jake's shoulders hang, and it looks like it takes him physical effort to stand up from the table. Jake's joints and back audibly pop from the action, and he raises his hands above his head to fully stretch. 

You try to root yourself in concern, not thinking of the flash of skin you saw where Jake's shirt rode up a bit. Jake blinks a few times, and when he finishes stretching, he turns to fully look at Javy. 

"How long are you staying?" Jake asks, daring to glance back down at the puzzle. Javy snaps his fingers in front of Jake's face twice and then points aggressively toward the couch. 

"As long as I want to," Javy responds with an upbeat tone and a wide grin. He gives a light shove, and Jake shuffles over to the couch. Jake looks at you as he walks, and you can tell that he feels betrayed. 

"I'll leave you to it," you say, ready to retreat into your room. 

Jake looks away from you then, and you don't like the flash of embarrassment on his face as he does. It's been odd seeing Jake so completely out of his element and uncomfortable in his skin the last few days. Embarrassed wasn't a look that fits well on Jake. It made you want to rush in and remedy the situation. 

"You don't gotta go," Jake calls to you.

"Javy came over to hang out with you, Jake." You say plainly. You want to give them space to talk and hang out. 

"Yeah, bro, feeling the love," Javy says jokingly. It earns him a sharp jab to his side from Jake. The action just makes Javy laugh, though. "Don't worry so much, Hang. Marlee is coming by later with dinner, and then all four of us will kick back, but right now, it's me, you, and the Master Chief." 

"You'll hang out with us later, though? Or are you doing something tonight?" Jake asks, ignoring Javy.  

"There is nothing I would rather do tonight than hang out with you," you tell him. Jake's eyes snap up from where they had drifted to the left, lowered just enough not to meet yours. The burning bright color in them is startling after the dull, distant look he has supported the last few days. You can't stop the words you say next, needing to try and back peddle. It takes a long beat before you say, "and Marls and Javy. I don't know if you've ever had Marlee's green chile enchiladas, but they are to die for." 

"They are so good," Jake agrees enthusiastically and looks down at the controller he is holding for the first time. Javy then shoots you a smile with a thumbs up, and you are reassured enough that you head upstairs and into your room. 

You hear Javy's voice behind you, "You know Marlee only cooks for two reasons." 

You close your door before hearing Jake's answer and resist the urge to eavesdrop. A few hours later, you hear loud yelling and laughter from the living room. Then get a text from Marlee to send the boys to help her get the food out of her car. 

The rest of the night is mostly light, and Jake almost passes for his normal self. He jokes with Coyote, eats two helpings of Marlee's enchiladas, and with you... well, with you, he is hot and cold. One moment Jake will be flirting with you in a heavy bravado, then the next, he falls into a quiet, contemplative silence. Javy has to herd Jake away from his puzzle three separate times. It gets easier to draw Jake back in every time; the last time only took a question directed toward Jake to draw him back to you guys. 

It is a good night, and everyone seems happy at the end. Jake hugs Javy and Marlee goodbye and leaves you to walk your friends out. You let out a small sigh of relief, seeing Jake walk up the stairs and not back to the dining room table. 

You talk with the couple for a few more minutes on the front porch, then hug them goodbye. You are thankful for them, to have such good friends who are willing to be a support system, for you, for Jake, and for their other friends too. It warms your heart, and it feels a lot like family. 

Jake's puzzling is less frenzied after that night, and he starts to reign back in. He has full conversations with you again and goes to the gym after work as well. He follows Javy's rules that had been texted to you both and doesn't puzzle by alone again.

 For the next week or so, Javy and Marlee end up in your living room in the evenings. Keeping Jake from becoming too obsessed, you also notice that he won't let Javy or Marlee touch his puzzle pieces. But when Jake does work on the puzzle, and you are home, he always invites you to join him. 

Jake makes an effort to converse with you while working too. The conversations you two get into range from academic to childhood memories, favorites — books, movies, foods, bands, animals— funny stories, and anything else that would pop in your heads. Of course, each puzzle piece must still be double tapped into place, and you are meticulous about following that rule. 

Puzzling in the evenings with Jake surprisingly becomes one of your favorite times of the day. Sometimes you would even just sit there at the table with Jake, scrolling on your phone while he works on the puzzle. 

Hangman's presence is a comforting steady grounding force, so much so that you can only hope you provide half of that for him. You knew you were roommates, and Jake may not carry the same romantic feelings you do. However, you couldn't deny the plain platonic affection that poured from him, so much you sometimes think M aybe . Maybe he does feel more. 

When you enter the kitchen, you see the puzzle is finished. You go to examine it and realize two pieces are missing. You feel a bit of worry creeping up in you, not sure how Jake will react to having lost pieces and being unable to complete the puzzle. 

You start to look around, checking every chair and bench to make sure a piece hasn't fallen. You shine a light under the couch in case they slipped under there. Then you are flipping up the edge of the rug in the living room and trying to think of any other feasible place the pieces could have disappeared. 

"What are you doing?" you hear, and you snap your head to see Jake standing on the other side of the couch, looking at you bemused. 

"Sorry, I was just looking for your missing pieces," you say, straightening up and fixing the rug. 

Jake quirks an eyebrow then he follows your gaze to the table where his puzzle is. Jake's mouth drops open, lips barely parted, and a soft "Oh." falls out like he didn't even make the sound intentionally. 

"No luck so far, though. I'm sorry. I'm sure they will turn up. Only so many places they could have gone," You say, making sure to project an upbeat, positive tone and attitude. 

Jake looks between you and the puzzle twice before suddenly you are graced with the rarest of Jake Seresin's smiles. It is one you have only seen a handful of times. It's different than his smirk and his confident panty dropping smile. It's not the smile that he gets when he laughs, and his eyes crinkle around the edges or the mouth wide open smile. It's not his practiced perfect smile he uses for pictures. 

No, this smile is closed-mouthed, those pearly whites hidden from view. It's a quirk of his lips like Jake is trying to hold it back from showing it on his face but he isn't entirely successful. His bottom lip is tucked a little bit between his teeth as if he is physically trying to bite back the expression, none of which prevents Jake's dimples from popping up. 

It's a smile that always leaves you a little stunned, and this is no exception. Not that there are many things about Jake that don't leave you feeling that way. This smile, paired with the soft look in his eyes, makes you want to melt into the floor. 

"I have the pieces," Jake tells you then. It takes you a few moments to process his words. 

"Oh, you do?"

"Yeah, I do," he says and pulls out a ziplock baggie from his pocket with the two pieces in it. 

"That's great!"

"They weren't lost. I was saving them, actually."

"Saving them for what?"

"For you. Well, for us."

You don't think you are able to hide your surprise at his words. "For us?"

"Yeah. You know, so we can finish this puzzle together. We worked on it together. So, we should finish it together. Few things match the feeling of putting the final piece of a puzzle into place."

God, you want to kiss him. You want to grab his face and smash your lips against his. You want to taste him and thread your fingers in his short dirty blonde hair. The little fantasy starting to form in your brain is cut off by Jake walking over to the table. 

You follow him there, and Jake sets the last two pieces on the table, letting you pick which one you want. Once you make your selection, Jake grabs the other one. 

"Okay, on three," he tells you with a grin. At his countdown, you both place the pieces of the puzzle. Automatically you double tap your piece into place. Jake was right; it is an extremely satisfying feeling finishing the puzzle and seeing it whole for the first time. 

Your gaze drifts over the puzzle, and you look up to see Jake staring at you instead of the finished piece. After a moment, you realize what is wrong. Your hand reaches across and gently nudges Jake's to the side. Then you tap Jake's piece twice, realizing that for the very first time, he seemed to have missed that compulsion of his. However, you knew it would bother Jake when he realized he had forgotten, so you make sure to complete the ritual. 

Jake's gaze snaps down to the piece you had tapped for him. Then his knuckles purposely brush against the back of your hand, sending shivers up your arm.

"Thank you," spills from both of your mouths at the same time, which makes you laugh.  

"Jinx," Jakes says in a rushed voice, making you laugh harder. That odd tension in the air between you two disappears. 

You walk into the kitchen and grab a white claw from the fridge, bringing it back for Jake, handing it to him. Jake is a strict enforcer of the jinx soda pop rule. The two of you look at the puzzle for a few more minutes. Taking in the stunning painting, the yearning and sadness of it never fails to impact you. 

While the two of you had been working on the puzzle, Jake had told you many different facts about The Meeting On The Turret Stairs. How it was a watercolor painting by Frederic William Burton, the poem it was based on, the era it was painted in, and its place in Irish art. 

When you asked Jake more, he surprised you by knowing hyper-specific details and answers off the top of his head. Intrigued, you learned how he had double majored at Annapolis in Aerospace Engineering and History. However, because Jake was golden boy Midshipman Seresin, he had gotten away with his final history thesis being art focused. Hangman more than understood how to be charming when he needed to be. 

"What now?" You ask him. 

"What do you mean?" Jake asks, confused. 

"What do we do with the puzzle?" you ask. It sounds much better than what you wanted to say. What now between the two of you? What were you going to do to keep spending time together? 

"We take it apart." Jake shrugs. 

"No," you gasp, horrified thinking of all the time you had put into the puzzle just to undo it and throw it back in the box.

"What else would we do?" Jake asks you. You think for a moment before smiling at your own idea. 

"Let's Mod Podge it, and then we can hang it up. We have some pretty bare walls in the house, and it is a stunning piece of art," you suggest. 

Jake doesn't even take a moment to think it over before saying, "I love that idea." 

So, you two are driving to the craft store to get cardboard and Mod Podge. A week later, the puzzle has been cemented and hung on the wall in between your and Jake's rooms upstairs. After the puzzle is finished, Jake is back into his sudoku and his various other reading books. He still lingers near you in the evenings, waiting longer than he used to before retreating to his room for bed. 

One night almost a month after you two had finished the puzzle, Jake brings the subject up again. You two are lounging on the couch, he had just gotten home from watching the Army-Navy game at a bar with some of his friends, and he is definitely a little bit tipsy. 

"I am going to build us a puzzle table," is the first thing he had loudly declared, walking in the door. 

You were instantly worried about why Jake might want to start a new puzzle. "Is everything okay?"

Jake doesn't seem to hear you, though, as he continues on. "A really nice one that opens and closes with velvet or something so we don't have to worry about losing pieces, and maybe I can even make it an adjustable height?" He is talking to himself more than to you. 

You watch as he grabs a notepad and pencil out of a drawer. Then he slumps on the couch. Before you know what's happening or can stop it, Jake has his head on your lap and is sketching design ideas, potential measurements, and materials. 

"How are you doing?" you ask him again, staring down at his face, unable to contain your enamored smile. Jake just nods his head and keeps sketching while mumbling. 

You run a hand through his soft hair tentatively. It is a bit longer than usual right now, almost out of regulation. He will need to get a haircut this week, but the strands are so soft, and you can't help but enjoy that there is a bit more there to run your fingers through. His eyes instantly close, and he hums contently at your touch. 

"Hangman?" you ask him almost teasingly, halting your movements.

"Yes, sugar?" 

"Are you okay?" 

He blinks his eyes open and looks at you. Their gleaming sea glass green color is a little glazed over and so very soft. His mirth is open and obvious to you. "I'm so great. Navy won." 

"That's great. Go Navy." A wide grin splits his face wide, and Jake's eyes actually crinkle closed, hiding their unique color from you again. 

"That's right, Honey. Ooh ahh!" Jake responds automatically, making you both laugh, and maybe you had been drinking a little bit of wine before he came home; perhaps you were warm from that, or maybe Jake was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Your eyes lock with his, and your hands pull out of his hair. You let one drift trace his face helping him relax the furrow in his eyebrows. 

"Why do you want to start a new puzzle?" You ask. 

"No new puzzle. A new table." He corrects you. Jake taps his pencil on the notepad pointedly. 

"For a new puzzle?"

"You liked doing a puzzle with me, right? Well, after the first bit, you liked it?"

"I loved it." The words slip out of your mouth before you can amend the sentiment to come off less forward.

"Me too,"Jake says and trails off for a moment. Then he continues asking, "So you would be open to doing another one with me? Just for fun this time, not my mental health." Jake doesn't say the last sentence with any bit of shame or embarrassment, which you admire. However, the vulnerability is obvious and glaring. 

"Yeah," you confirm, once again having to run your fingers over his brow to relax his face. 

"Perfect. I'm building the table, then. You can pick the puzzle this time." 

You can't help but let your hands slip back into Jake's hair, and he returns to sketching on his notepad. It was a moment of quiet peace you knew you didn't ever want to let go of. 

"Javy said that you don't like to do puzzles with other people, and that's what helps you pull out of the pit." 

Jake's eyes don't leave his notepad, and he turns the page. You watch Jake start to scrawl the pros of a dovetail joint versus a dowel joint before he starts to draw it out as well. You almost don't think he will say anything back by the time he finally does. 

"You aren't other people," Jake tells you, as he starts drawing in shading, which is completely unnecessary for anything beyond aesthetic. He bends the lines from a basic blueprint to a detailed drawing of a realistic table joint. It was distracting watching the engineer in him flow into the unexpected artist. 

The idea that you ever had thought his talent for art and engineering were such radically different things was a bit funny. Now that you see him dance between the lines back and forth so elegantly that you understand it wasn't two competing sides of Jake. It was just him. It was how he worked and operated. 

It was how he was Hangman and also Jake. It was how he could fill out sudoku then go to bed at 9 pm and how he could shoot pool until closing with the squad. It was how he was a cowboy and a pilot. It was how you wanted to cry a little bit, knowing he enjoyed you there, knowing you weren't like other people. 

And you are struck with the thought that you don't ever want Jake to do a puzzle with anyone but you. You never want to see him sitting alone at three am with bloodshot eyes putting pieces into place again. And you don't even want to consider him explaining animatedly why he believes a piece goes in one color pile and not the one it was originally sorted to anyone but you. 

You want to be selfish with Jake. You want to have him, and you want to keep him close, never letting go. Surely you could convince Jake to be yours. It was a selfish act that could be forgiven if you promised to cherish him. After all, there were worse things in the world than loving someone, so entirely the fact they might not love you to the same degree didn't hurt so much.  

Jake flips to the next page in the notepad and starts to sketch out the living room. As he works, the living room table starts to look significantly different than your current one. 

"Oh. It's for the living room?" You ask him.

At first, he just hums in response, but when he finishes rounding out a line, Jake lifts his pencil from the paper. It pauses there, poised and frozen, as he asks, "Do you want the dining table instead?" 

"No." As you continue, the pencil falls back to the page, "It just wasn't what I was originally thinking."

"I could do a dining room table too. They could even be made of the same wood." Jake says. His green eyes broke from the page to glance up at your face for the first time in a while. He searches your face trying to gauge your reaction to his suggestion. 

"Two puzzle tables?"

"Think of all the possibilities. We could do two puzzles at once." Jake gasps. You kind of hate the excited timbre that Jake's voice picks up at the idea, but you actually mostly love it. 

"Just one puzzle at a time, please." You say, giving his hair a teasing gentle tug, ignoring the sharp inhale of his breath that immediately follows. You refuse to give away the unexpected thrill sent straight through your body that settles at your core. You have to consciously make sure your words do not fall out rushed, "I think it would be nice to have out here, comfier." 

"I thought the exact same thing."

"Oh really?" You ask, amused. 

"Yes, Ma'am. I've got two words for you, puzzle naps." 

You huff a small laugh at him and bite your lower lip. He flips back to his first page of notes, where he had a small list of wood. He adds cherry to his list after oak. 

"Juniper is really pretty," you suggest. He immediately starts to write down your suggestion with a little heart next to it. When Jake starts to shade in the heart, you feel like the one in your chest might actually burst out. Something very similar to butterflies was fluttering around in you, but it is much less nervous and rather born of pure fondness. 

"Sounds beautiful. I'm sure it's perfect," Jake tells you. 

"Let's pick one together, though. It should be our choice."  

"No," Jake says, drawing an elegant oval around juniper. Then he goes back and strikes a straight line through the other options. "No one else has ever remembered to double tap."

Jake spends a few more minutes detailing the design before his eyes start to get sleepy, and his pencil marks become light and halting. It doesn't take much from you to encourage him to go to bed, just a whispered suggestion. 

He stumbles up from the couch and places a kiss on your forehead. Jake puts his notebook on the counter in the kitchen. After that, Jake circles back to press a second lingering kiss to your forehead. You watch him go all the way around the house to double check the locks, the front door, the garage, and the back door. Finally, after sending you two finger guns, Jake drags himself up the stairs, humming Anchors Aweigh. 

"Until we meet once more, here's wishing you a happy voyage home!" You loudly hear him sing. You listen to Jake as he hums his fight song while randomly peppering in other lyrics. When you finally hear him close his door, your mind makes a decision on the war it's been having. 

You are going to do whatever it takes for Jake Seresin to agree to be yours. Potential consequences be damned; Jake is worth the risk.