#oh my captain oh my captain / now it’s time for me to part / rip the needle from my heart / we were so wrong from the start / oh my captain

[rithmeres]

finishing up a painting for oct 14 (real ones know) so i put on my [REDACTED] playlist (real ones know) that i haven’t listened to in a year and i got halfway through one song and just started crying at my desk

[the-californicationist]

Please! I need the part 2 of “Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen.“ I'm on my kneesss pleaseee it was so good! 😭♥️

Anyways, I'm your new follower 😍, and some of the stories you write is just so damn good😍 (Sorry for bad grammar's, English isn't really my first language, uwu)

im sorry but idk what a part two even looks like. i know a lot of people have asked for it but its... just some couch sex?? idk i'll try.

Laswell clicked the door shut behind her, and part of you wished she had locked it. Gaz was sure to tell the rest of the team, but you could do without an audience. What would they even see if they barged in here?

The captain had let his cock loose from the confines of his pants, and they were sliding down his thick, muscular ass with every selfish thrust. He was rubbing himself like a naughty dog against your clothed pussy, begging for entrance with every forward movement. Your shirt was pulled down, revealing your breasts, and now they were covered in pink marks from the roughness of his beard as he moved his mouth across you.

Feeling him take each nipple and suck it so gently into his mouth, pulling it in like delicious nectar through a straw, drinking you although you were dry, tasting you even though you had no flavor. It was too much, but he couldn't stop.

You felt a little wrong to be enjoying your commanding officer so much. His humping was making your body respond even as it waited for your guilty conscience to catch up.

"Cap... oh, my fucking God... No, Captain. We shouldn't..." you tried to protest on his behalf, knowing he was being controlled by the powder.

"Corporal," he spoke with his mouth full of your flesh, "I can stop... now. It'll give you... enough time... to run..."

His bright pink eyes flashed up at you in warning and he used both his arms to pin you on either side of your head, forcing you to look at him, the intensity of which went right to your rapidly-melting core.

Suddenly, in a moment of lucidity, he looked you right in your eyes and finished his sentence,

"But that will not be bloody true for long."

As if warning you, he rubbed his hardness up and over your belly, letting it ruck up your shirt, and you felt its incredible heat. It was like a long, steel brand. His skin was smooth, but it was scalding and swollen with his blood. The huge tip left a wet trail of desire wherever it went.

"It's okay, Captain. You can have me if you --"

There mere suggestion of your consent was all he needed to let the dam burst and the river run free. His need crashed from him with an explosive force. He all but ripped your clothes from you, nearly hurting you in the process, making your ankles ache from the sudden pressure as he shucked your pants and boots away in one go.

Your panties were torn from you, sturdy though they were. The fabric made a whining, popping noise as the elastic split. Air rushed across uncovered skin, and your body doubled down on its plans to produce as much natural lubrication as possible. It seemed to know you'd need it.

He didn't touch you. Not with his hands. There was no preparation of any kind. Price fed himself into you like a hand into a glove, a body part in need of sudden and immediate warmth. He took control of your head again, pinning you in that same furious way, and you had a singular view of his face, twisted in a sort of sublime agony as he sank himself into you for the first time.

The pressure was almost unimaginable. Your body was making a lurid, wet, slicking noise as his cock forced you in half. You tried to allow him in, tried to relax, but there was little you could do. He was immense and heavy. It felt like a fist on a strong arm, like a forge hammer, hot and searing. The only thing more tormenting was his voice purring darkly in your ear.

"Fuck, you're warm..."

He pulled himself out of you inch by inch, leaving a terrible hollow where you were once whole.

"Wet for me. So wet. How?"

Back in. And in. And in. It seemed to go forever in and it made you wonder how deep you were.

"It feels so good to have you 'round me, love..."

When the rosy head of him found the end of your wet hole, it sort of... settled there. Locked in, like a key into a tumbler, and each fold of you a lifted pin, fitting him as if you were crafted for it.

"Thought 'bout how you'd feel. Sometimes... dreamt it."

You felt your body give away your surprise. He was too gone to notice it, but not you. You would have been able to feel the planets shift an inch to the left if they dared. You could feel everything. Each and every pore and hair and breath was awake and alive and living in the rawest possible way. Could he have really been thinking of you like you were thinking of him?

"Bloody fuckin' hell. So tight. Too tight."

He was right. It was too tight. He was squeezing himself in with each of these aching, crazed thrusts, shoving himself inside of you hungrily, all the way up to your pounding heart, it seemed. You felt yourself slipping around him like hot oil, running down his shaft and matting the coarse, dark hair that cradled his root.

"John..."

You used his name in place of his title, and he noticed. Noticed it like a hawk notices a hare. Right in your ear, up against your cheek, he responded, too quickly, too much teeth,

"Yes, love. Yes. Yes? Tell me."

He was grunting now, clearly on the edge of his pleasure. You aimed to take him over it, to plunge him into blinding darkness. You whispered, and each word hit its mark like the straight shaft of an arrow, striking into the target one after the other, tearing through the bullseyes like they were nothing but air.

"You're gonna make me come, John."

Again, that unearthly snarl came from his chest, the one you'd never heard before come from the mouth of a man. It was a cry and a scream and a prayer and a plea and had he not been pinning you down prone with his own prostrated body, he would have been growling it from his knees. He commanded you as he worshiped you,

"Give it to me. Give it to me. Give. It. To. Me."

Your body listened before you could even register his words.

From the bones in your hips, you felt your muscles tighten along his iron rod like a fist, closing in on him knuckle by knuckle, and each closure brought you closer to that brink where the darkness turned to blinding white light. You could feel the sparkle of it, that peppery gunpowder flash and then...

"Holy fuck, love..." He stared at you as if you were the sun lighting up his whole life. Like he'd seen you before, all sherbet pink and blazing orange, in the dawn, in the mornings, cutting over the horizon.

Price had come in you. You felt it. It slid along the cleft of your ass and soaked into the fabric of the couch. He didn't mind it. You couldn't. His body was still thrusting as hard and as heavy as before, fucking up into you as if he hadn't just filled you with his thick, hot cream.

"I can't... " he gasped, wrenching his eyes shut, "I can't stop..."

"It's okay, John..."

"I can't bloody stop, love. I'm... fuck, I'm sorry..."

"I'm okay. It's okay," you whispered to him, trying to soothe him.

You pet the hair back over his brow and he leaned into your touch like a cat, purring for more of it. You laced your fingers through his hair and held him tight at his scalp, turning his head so that you could talk to him right into his ear,

"Fuck me how you need to, Captain."

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[mochinomnoms]

The Private (not) Thoughts of a Moray Chapter 4: This thing called love, I just can’t handle it

Gender Neutral Reader x Jade Leech

Chapter 4 preview:

Jade! I’m so happy to see you! You look wonderful today. I mean you always look wonderful, so handsome! Oh, you look so cool as a human, not that you don’t look cool as an eelmer, but you’re always so cool and handsome and I just love you so much! I love, love, lovelovelovelove— Oh…  Jade (unfortunately) was looking back at you, thoughts of affection ramming through his head.  Darling! You’re so cute! You look so ethereal under the lights of Octavinelle, the blue reflects wonderfully in your eyes. You always look so angelic, though, but especially now that the color of the sea can act as a scenic environment for your presence. Oh, I love you~ I love you, I love you, I love you— Between the two’s thoughts fighting for space in your cramped mind, and you’re pretty sure you could feel a migraine coming on. 

[wc} - 8,150

[notes] - *crab raves* finally, struggled with it but it's out. i got done kinda setting up the characters and their dynamics so chapters should have an easier time getting out

back to chapter list

Chapter 4: This thing called love? I just can’t handle it

The liquid in your cat shaped mug (courtesy of Cater) slowly turned from a light purple back to a soft creamy brown as a few drops from your small vial of mauve liquid dripped into your drink.

One, two, and that’s three drops for me and for Grim…

Placing the vial back in your pocket, you set Grim’s own morning drink, a small cup of hot cocoa with the tiniest of marshmallows, to the side. The barely rising sun indicated it was just before 6 in the morning, so Grim, and most of the dorm was still asleep. 

You settled in on the nook of the windowsill facing the entrance of the dorm. From here, you could see the Hall of Mirrors, Sam’s shop, and the alchemy building. 

A loud yawn startled you as James entered the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and blinking at you owlishly. 

“Good morning James.” You said softly, waving. James mumbled what you assume was a ‘good morn’ back as he opened 

Frustrated grunts and growls emanated from James as he wrestled the, evidently well sealed, package of cereal. You think it was this world’s version of Captain Crunch, the image of a well-dressed pirate in red with a gleaming hook and mischievous grin staring back at you across the kitchen table. 

“Damn this—why do they make these things so hard to open!?” James hissed, throwing the colorful cardboard box across the room, nearly hitting a sleepy Tony in the face.

“Ack! Ayo?” Tony rapidly looked back and forth between the offending material and James, who was now yanking at the plastic bag of cereal with his teeth. Growling, he used his canines to rip the bag apart so that he could finally have a core part of a valuable, healthy breakfast. 

He was failing miserably. 

“Can you watch it? I’m walkin’ here—are you fightin’ a bag of cereal?��� Tony asked incredulously. 

Taking a pause, James looked up, bag still in mouth, and gave a muffled “Yesh.”

“…and losin’?”

“…” Flushing, James let go of the bag and responded, “It’s my favorite.”

He yelped as one of the other freshmen walked past him and flicked his forehead. 

“Hey, what gives Yakub?”

Yabuk, one of the Scarabia students in your care, shoved James aside with his broad shoulders and tall frame, as he began to take out items from the small pantry in the corner. You weren’t sure what Yabuk was, you think either a beastman or fae based on the slight point in his ears and the way his bright red hair was ever so slightly feathery. 

In fact, you're pretty sure that it was actually feathers, the plumy hairline starting from the peak between his eyebrows and turning into a prominent widow’s peak. His hair, which was undercut and slicked up like a parrot, was quite striking against his dark brown skin and sharp yellow eyes. 

Framing his narrow face were a pair of red macaw feather earrings, which you think might’ve been plucked from his own head, as the blue and green ombre matched that on the tips of his hair/feathers. 

Yabuk sighed, deciding to turn and address James, who was back to gnawing at the bag. 

“How about this, how about you fight the rest of the cereal by yourself, and I’ll courageously make pancakes for those of us who want a little warmth in our mornings.”

James sneered at him, deciding that the best course of action was to vigorously shake his head in order to tear the bag open. He succeeded, after the bag split down the middle and spilled half of the yellow, red, and blue contents on the floors, where it would no doubt be vacuumed by the never-ending ravenous Grim. 

You lifted a hand to cover your mouth in an effort to hide the fact that you were seconds away from laughing your head off. 

…Uwwwah. 

James dejectedly poured himself a bowl of cereal, careful to not spill the rest of it. Deciding to be helpful, you walked over from your nook in the corner, surprised no one had yet noticed you. 

“Here, I’ll get the broom—”

“GWAH!” James shrieked at your “sudden” appearance. You wonder if it was just early morning fatigue that made him forget you were there, or if he genuinely didn’t process you sitting at the windowsill. 

“H-housewarden—I mean Prefect—I mean Y/N—” The poor man yelped as he knocked his bowl off the counter with his elbow. 

OH SHIT—

Yabuk, also squawking in surprise, managed to catch the bowl before it fell on the ground, wincing at the cold milk dripping down the slides onto his hand. 

“Hah—got it.” Clearing his throat, Yabuk gave you a nod. “Good morning, Housewarden Y/N, would you like a pancake?”

You too had been reaching for the bowl, bent over in an awkward position between Yabuk and James (who was internally screeching at the proximity between you two). 

“Ah, it’s fine, thank you, Yabuk.” You stood back, slightly puffing your chest out as you stretched your back, sighing in relief at your upper spine popping. 

“I have to go in here soon anyways, I’ll be out of the dorm for most of today.” 

Tony, who had poured himself a cup of coffee from the still warm pot you’d brewed earlier, piped up, “Oh yeah, ain’t we ‘upposed ta be going over to Octavinelle in halfa-hour?”

You winced and nodded. “Yep…that’s right.” 

Going over to the dragon’s lair. Or would it be the eel’s lair? Octopus’s lair technically…

“Ah yes! I’ve been ready to head back to our actual dorm for sometime now!” You jumped, noticing that Aspen had been watching your interaction from the doorway for who knows how long. 

Aspen gave a closed mouth smile, tilting his head. Can’t even be bothered to wake up early in the morning? Pathetic.

You raised your brow at that, deciding to return his smile with a polite one of your own as you greeted him, “Good morning Aspen, yes I’m aware—”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t keep us waiting, Prefect.” You didn’t miss the way he nearly hissed your nickname as he walked over to Tony and swiped his cup. 

“Hey! That was mine—”

“Ah, well, I’m sure you didn’t mean to do so on purpose.” Ignoring Tony’s grabby hands, he continued, “After all, being a magicless human for so long, and just becoming a housewarden so recently, I’m sure you’re still trying to manage everything.”

He made a face as he sipped from the cup, disgusted, most likely from the quality of your 2 thaumark grounds from Sam’s. Aspen decided to hand back the coffee to a pouting Tony, who was giving his friend the side-eye. 

“I have to wait on you anyways,” He sighed, turning around to head to the common area. “I’ll be in the living room, once you’re ready!”

He ended his sentence in a sing-songy tone, waving over his shoulder. You sighed, the 9 hours of sleep slipping away into exhaustion rather than rest, as you finished your now cooled coffee in just a few gulps. 

Myah! What’s this guy’s problem? Did someone steal his tuna? I bet it was Wynfred. Definitely Wynfred.  

Grim trotted on all fours to you, using the island barstool as leverage to jump onto your shoulder and affectionately smash his cheek into yours. 

“Mornin’ Henchman! Why did you leave the bed so early?” Grim pouted, hanging off of your shoulder as he winced at the sight of the hot cocoa you’d prepared. 

Mrrah, I don’t like the lavender taste! Grim grumbled in his head, taking the small mug with his paws and downing the now lukewarm drink like a child with a cup of bitter cough syrup. Next time, I get to choose the taste, sashimi-flavored, hehe!

You sighed, grimacing at the thought of a tuna flavored coffee syrup, “We gotta go to meet with Azul, remember?”

“Nooo!” Grim whined, fiddling with his mug. You tsked as cocoa spilled over. “I still don’t trust that shifty octopus, I still have nightmares of waking up with an anemone on my head again.”

Grim was still whining as he finished off the cocoa at your insistence. You yourself also finished your drink, placing both cups in the sink. A Heartslabyul student rushed over to clean them for you, muttering something about Riddle warning them to be helpful. 

Please tell him I’m good, I don’t want to get collared my first week like that freshman last year.

You withheld a snort, biting the inside of your cheek instead. You leaned down to whisper, “Thanks, I’ll tell Riddle that you’re doing a good job.” to the student, smiling at his beaming face. 

“Grim, let’s surprise everyone with our dorm uniforms today!” Grim whooped and jumped back down from your shoulder to climb up the stairs. He’d been so excited that you two had gotten proper uniforms, as he claimed that it was time everyone started taking him seriously as a mage. 

Once again, the ghosts had taken liberty to create your dorm uniform. Eliza had given them some of her old dresses from when she was alive as an apology for taking over your dorm. They’d decided to take those, as well as some of their own clothes to get you all dressed up. Your dorm uniform was relatively simple, compared to the other’s, but was comfortable. 

They’d given you two versions, noticing your affinity for both skirts and pants. Your top was made with a striped cream button-up blouse adorned with a silver collar chain sporting two mauve crystal ball pins. The top was accompanied by a dark blue cloak, reminiscent of the ghosts’ own capes. Of the two outfit variants, they had managed to find a dark gray and blue, front corset dress from Eliza’s collection. She had suggested to Bernard that you wear it over the blouse along with dark tights and her old, brown chunky-sole loafer shoes with the dress. 

The other outfit was recommended by Albert, who claimed he was rather fashionable while alive (Earnest gawked at that, so you’re not sure how true that claim was). This one had a vest, the same color as the cloak, with dark gray, high-waisted pants decorated with silver buttons along the waistband and pockets. You wore the same shoes as with the previous outfit, as they were in surprisingly good condition despite their age. 

Eliza must have taken really good care of her stuff before and after she passed. I hope she and Puffy are happily married in the afterlife. Maybe they’ll visit again…without the whole suitor stuff, though. 

You hummed as you decided to put on the dress version of the outfit. It was obvious that the clothes were older, time and dust took a toll on them, but you had to admit it was nice having a dorm uniform. Plus, the age of your clothes matched the appearance of a now fixed, but still full of character Ramshackle. Like an old Victorian ghost still trapped in their home. 

“Henchhuman! Help me with this cloak thing!” Grim was grumbling as he had trouble tying the bow of his own mini-cloak. He really looked like a mini-version of the ghosts, he just needed a hat! 

“Coming, coming!” You crouched down to help him, humming. “There we go. You look great, Grim!”

Hmph! Of course, I do! You don’t look bad yourself, henchhuman. 

Grim grinned as he jumped up to your shoulder, watching as you grabbed the hair pin with the Ramshackle crest and clipped your hair back. 

“We look like the real deal! Finally, gonna get some respect here, mehehe!” 

You and Grim shared a soft laugh as you pressed your foreheads together. The two of you rushed down the stairs, Grim gripping your shoulder so as to not fall off. Aspen and Tony were dressed in their school uniforms. Though, you noticed, Tony’s uniform was more hastily put together, vest and jacket unbuttoned and the tie messily put together. 

Aspen, who was prim and properly dressed, fussed over Tony’s appearance before noticing you and slamming his hands back to his sides. 

“Hello Prefect, took your time to look nice I see” Trying to impress? I still don’t see the appeal. “May we leave now? I’d like to actually be on time.”

Tony shoved an elbow into Aspen’s stomach, the latter smacking the former’s arm in retaliation as they shared a look. 

“Um, yeah. Follow me.” You gestured as you passed by Wynfred by the front door, who was currently trying to yank something out of Silas’s hands. 

“Give that to me—Oh! Prefect!” Wynfred happily greeted you as he managed to take the item from Silas’s hands and shove it in his pocket. “Off to Octavinelle? Will you be coming back for us Pomefiore students?” 

You nodded and replied, “Yes, but probably in the evening since I’ll have to do Scarabia and Heartslabyul first. Grim and I will both be out all day…”

Humming, you narrowed your eyes at Wynfred and listened to his thoughts. 

How nice, my club meeting was canceled today, so I’m bored. Maybe I’ll just watch everyone and see what they get up to.

“Hmm, hey Wynfred?” The redhead perked at the mention of his name. 

“Yes?”

“Can you do me a favor? Watch over Ramshackle and make sure no one gets into any trouble or anything like that. I have a chore board for tasks that Grim and I normally do around the dorm and school, but…”

You gestured to Aspen and Tony, the former looking and thinking about the inconvenience of stopping. 

“Well, we’re pretty busy now, so it would be a great help if—oh!”

Wynfred grabbed onto your hands, eyes dazzling and shimmering with glee. He yanked you close to him until your noses were nearly pressing together as he started yammering. 

“Of course I’ll be in charge! Oh, I’m so flattered that you’d ask me of that. You know I’m an exceptional leader of my coven, and I was back home as well, so you can depend on me! I’ll make sure everything is in tip-top shape, don't worry bout a thing! Off you go now!”

Wynfred gently pushed you out the front door, Aspen and Tony following, as he turned to start calling out to the remaining freshmen. 

“Alright! Housewarden Y/N put me in charge, so listen up!”

Geez, I hope this isn’t going to bite me in the butt later.  

The walk to the mirrors was short and quiet, on your end at least. A few steps behind you, Aspen and Tony trailed along, softly conversing between themselves. Based on their thoughts, you think they were arguing about something, or someone.

Gah! You’re more jealous than the nereids!

Tony’s voice rang through your head as you turned your head to look back at the duo, who was now muttering angrily at Aspen. The latter looked almost pouty, looking at the ground as he hissed back something to his friend. The image was actually pretty funny, with the near 1-foot difference between them, Aspen had to lean down fairly drastically to whisper with Tony. 

Gods, you’re so annoying, like a suckerfish, just take my side!

Tony, on the other hand, craned his neck up to reach Aspen’s ear, and kept darting his head into his friend’s eyesight every time Aspen looked away to pout further. 

Blah, blah, blah, jealous my ass, maybe I just don’t like them!

“It’s too early for them to be this loud, henchhuman! Make them stop!” Grim whined from his place in your arms, glaring at the pair over your shoulders. You cradled him as he sleepily rested his little chin on the crook of your neck.

“Let them be, they’re not that loud, be honest.” as you said that, you decided to turn your head to look back at the freshmen. 

Aspen locked eyes with you as he looked up at the same time you did, narrowing them as you turned back forward. You could still feel his stare burn into your back as the four of you turned the corner to the Hall of Mirrors. 

YOU! You’re nothing special, just a stupid human. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you, IhateyouIhateyouIhateyouIhatehatehatehatehatehate—

You abruptly turned around as you arrived in front of the Octavinelle mirror, disrupting Aspen’s little chant of loathing, to address the pair. 

“Before we enter, a few things!” You smiled at the pair, listing out your tasks with your free hand as you spoke. 

“First, I need to meet with Azul myself to work out the schedule for you and your two other dormmates. I believe you’ll get fitted into your dorm uniforms with your vice while I do. Second, you’ll get trained for the working lounge while I go meet with Heartslaybul’s housewarden-”

Grim jumped from your arms to place his paws on his hips and continue your sentence confidently. 

“The Great Grim will come get you after your training since my henchhuman will have to move on immediately to the other dorms, so you better do what I say-” 

“Wait, is the cat actually our vice housewarden?” Tony asked with a deadpan expression. “I thought that was a joke.”

“Hey! How dare you mock the greatest mage of all time? Bow down and beg for forgiveness—mmpphh!”

You quickly snatched Grim up and covered his mouth as you gave a tight smile. 

“Third, once you're back at the dorm, please make sure the Heartslabyul students all leave with Grim, and let the Scarabia students know that they’ll be next. Afterward, you can do what you want as long as you're back to the Ramshackle lounge by 5:30! Any questions?”

You could see the metaphorical roll of Aspen’s eyes as he thought, No-

“Yeah!” Tony raised his hand up, akin to an eager kindergartener in his favorite class, as he asked, “Is Jade gonna be meetin’ us at the Mostro Lounge or somethin’? He’s usually off hikin’ in the mornin’.” 

Yep, just as I intended. Thank god he’s consistent at least, same as last year.

You let out a sigh of relief at that, making Aspen and Tony share a look. Though, they seemed to think your sigh was for a different reason. 

Hmpf. “Disappointed, are we?” Aspen grumbled, hissing as Tony jabbed an elbow in his ribs in response. 

Tony chuckled, “Aw, don’t worry Prefect, don’t be sad, I’m sure he’ll be back soon! You can say hi to him then!” Ain’t that cute, Jade sure knows how to pick ‘em. 

“W-what?” You furrowed your brows in confusion, noting that both of their faces matched your expression. Your grasp on Grim’s squirming body had weakened enough for him to slip out and climb up your arm to sit on your shoulder. 

“Why would they be disappointed?” Grim questioned, “Jade’s too scary for my henchhuman to be hanging around!”

“Grim! Be nice! No, it’s not that, I just hardly know him.” you hurriedly clarified as Aspen’s face turned to one of elation and Tony’s of disbelief.

Thank. The. Fucking. Sea Witch.

No fucking way?!

“Whaddya mean ya hardly know him? All summer, he’s been-ow!” Tony yelped as Aspen pinched his side, glaring at him as he instead turned to give you a smile. 

“What he means to say is: you’ve been a hot topic all summer, Jade speaks…highly,” Aspen’s face soured as he said that. “Of you, so we assumed you were rather close, is that not the case?”

Grim snorted as his thoughts spoke to you. Yeah, I bet he wished he was reeeeal close to ya, huh Y/N?

You let out a nervous laugh as you stammered out, “No, uh, we’re not close at all. Now come on.”

Gesturing to the pair to follow you into the mirror, your vision was blinded by the light of the mirror. Its lavender shimmering morphed into the underwater dorm, a bubble developing around your small group once you’d made it far enough in. The tranquil ocean that Octavinelle resided in never ceased to enchant you, with the soft bluish gray seabed and the light purple reefs, not to mention the clear glass walls of the actual dorm building itself, built right into the lavender reefs. 

Despite it being so early in the morning, you could see a numerous number of students running through the halls of the dormitory from the aquarium walls. Peeking behind you, you smiled at Aspen and Tony’s faces of delight, the latter pressing against the bubble until his face was smooshed against it, grinning like a madman.

“Yooooo, this looks sick! Aspy, look at all the reefs!” 

“Aspy?” Grim asked while you hid your smile behind your hand. Aspen’s cheeks turned a light purple as he kicked the back of Tony’s knee. 

I thought I told him not to call me that here!

“It’s a childhood nickname…” Aspen trailed off, his eyes lighting up as the Mostro Lounge entrance came into view. “Woah…it really is in the skeleton of an ancient whale.”

You tilted your head at the two as you asked, “Is this your first time in your dorm? You guys didn’t get to see it after orientation?”

Tony shook his head. “Nah, when we found that we’re crowded, we’re sent over to ya right awayyyYYYEEH-”

The bubble, once past the magical barrier separating the water from the café entrance, popped, causing you, Grim, and Aspen to land on your feet just fine, if a bit unbalanced. Tony, who’d been leaning down farther and farther against the bubble, fell face-first into the ground. 

Aspen chuckled in response, looking back at you with pursed lips. So if you hardly know him…then why…

“So back to what I was saying earlier…what’s the nature of your relationship to Azul and the twins then? They, Jade especially, spoke of you quite often.”

The thought of a love struck Jade talking off Floyd and Azul’s ears all summer with the same level of intensity that his thoughts betrayed made a strange feeling pit in your stomach. 

Ugh, maybe I’m getting sick. I think…

“Like what Grim was saying, I don’t really know Jade outside of class or even Floyd. Actually, I’m closer to Azul though…we’ve been through…a lot together last year. Plus, we hung out over the summer!” 

Aspen nodded, grunting as Tony used his arm to yank himself back up.

“Right…you and the other overblot students had to meet with Crowley, right?” 

You perked up in surprise, as did Grim, who whipped his head around to Aspen and growled.

“Some random freshman ain’t supposed to know that. Have you been snoopin’ around? I’ll cast a whole spell of hurt at cha if ya have!”

“Grim!” You growled, gaze strict, at your familiar as the fire in his ears grew in his growing ire. “Behave yourself. He's right, though, Aspen? Please explain.”

Aspen tensed while Tony abruptly explained, “Our families are…tight-knit! They all do business—”

“Heh, you mean ‘business’?” Grim air-quoted as he scoffed. 

“We do business together. When the headmaster told his parents, they told ours, so we learned pretty soon after it happened.”

Aspen, quick to agree, nodded along. “Yes! We all…grew up together?” 

You squint your eyes at the pair, hoping that your, admittedly halfhearted, glare would provoke one of them to either blurt out a further explanation, or their thoughts would betray something. 

Instead, a synchronized screech was echoing through both of their heads. You took a long, deep breath, and sighed heavily. 

“I’ll ask your housewarden about it later instead, how about that?” With a cheeky smile, you turned back around briskly walking to the host stand of the Mostro Lounge as Aspen and Tony  quickly followed after, resuming their earlier bickering.

Looking over your shoulder, you smiled again, softer this time, at the two. The way they bantered, brushed and shoved each other with their shoulders, reminded you of your own favorite duo.

I’ll have to make sure I say hi to my boys before I see Riddle.

Aspen eyes met yours, widening slightly as a soft lilac blush formed on his cheeks. He looked to the side instead, huffing in his head.

What are you smiling at, stupid human. Turn back around and…huh?

Still smiling, you turned to see what had taken Aspen’s attention, before running face-first into someone’s chest. You and the very tall stranger tumbled a bit before they grabbed your shoulders to help steady you, grasping you gently like you were a precious stone. 

“Oof! Sorry, I—”

“It’s quite alright, Prefect.” My pearl~ “Perhaps you should pay more attention, you might bump into someone less savory, fuhuhu!”

“EEK!” You rapidly jumped back, Grim falling off your shoulder with an ‘oomph’ as your back smacked into Aspen and Tony. “Jade! I thought you were hiking! You usually do on Saturdays.”

Jade, his tall frame now in full view, smiled as he leaned down to tower over you. “Oh? I hadn’t realized that you’ve memorized my schedule.” 

Aaaah! Did you want to make sure we’d bump into each other, too? My sweet, you can ask for my time any day of the week!

“NO!” The volume of your yelp made everyone jump as you turned a deep pink. You laughed nervously, waving your hands rapidly. 

“Ahaha! No, I just remember from last year that you’d be out by the woods near Ramshackle! I figured you’d keep up the same routine.”

Oh, of course. Still, I’m so happy they remember, my darling pearl! I love you~

“I see,” Jade closed his eyes as he continued smiling, chuckling, “I usually would, but today I decided to make an exception.”

You heard Tony mumble under his breath, “Gee, wonder why.” Aspen shoved an elbow into Tony’s ribs, shushing at his friend before smiling shyly at Jade, a small lilac blush on his cheeks. 

“Hi Jade,” Aspen waved, voice soft and almost meek. 

Jade! I’m so happy to see you! You look wonderful today. I mean you always look wonderful, so handsome! Oh, you look so cool as a human, not that you don’t look cool as an eelmer, but you’re always so cool and handsome and I just love you so much! I love, love, lovelovelovelove—

Oh… 

“Hello Aspen. Tony. It’s wonderful to see you again so soon,” Jade’s attention shifted to the two momentarily. “It’s like we never left home.”

He (unfortunately) was looking back at you, thoughts of affection ramming through his head. 

Darling! You’re so cute! You look so ethereal under the lights of Octavinelle, the blue reflects wonderfully in your eyes. You always look so angelic, though, but especially now that the color of the sea can act as a scenic environment for your presence. Oh, I love you~ I love you, I love you, I love you—

Between the two’s thoughts fighting for space in your cramped mind, and you’re pretty sure you could feel a migraine coming on. 

“Ugh, my head.” You rubbed your temples as Grim climbed back up on your shoulders, hanging himself off you. 

“Ya good, Prefect?” Tony asked. His voice sounded concerned. 

“Yeah, um, are you going to be training the two while I meet with Azul?” 

Jade’s smile grew as he leaned down, just slightly, to meet your eyes. 

“Floyd will be training them, and you’ll be meeting with me instead.”

What! Nooooo! Not Floyd, he still pinches my cheeks…

Aspen seemed upset, both internally and visibly, as his face soured. Tony, on the other hand, brightened and pumped his fist. 

“Yes! Floyd, my boy!” 

Jade chuckled and reached over to ruffle Tony’s head. “Do try and stay out of trouble, for poor Aspen’s sake. I’ll be too busy with our dear Prefect to keep an eye on the three of you.”

“Oh, yes.” Aspen drawled, “Our ‘dear Prefect’ will need all the assistance they can get. Did you know, they didn’t even realize that they had to sign off on their students’ club registrations? Our paperwork was barely submitted to the guidance mage yesterday!”

Hmph, I still don’t see the appeal in them. They’re such a clumsy human. Barely a housewarden. You can do so much better, Jade!

Ooooooh. That makes more sense now…wait, NO.

“Are you sure that I’m not meeting with Azul?” You laughed nervously, the panic setting in. “I double-checked with him yesterday, he said that we were still set!”

“Something came up.” Jade explained. The image of Azul’s bedroom door with a broken lock, door shaking as Azul’s muffled voice shouted through the wooden door, entered your brain. 

You raised a brow and slowly replied, “Oh. Should we go check, or?”

“Nope. If you’ll please follow me, I will drop off our newest employees with Floyd.” Jade turned, looking over his shoulder. “You and I will have our meeting in the VIP Room.”

Alone~

You cringed, a shiver going up your spine as you gave Jade a tight smile, gritting out, “Greeeeat. Cool. That’s fine. Yep.”

Jade is either oblivious or maliciously ignorant to your distress as he guides the small group to the dining room. As you approached, you could hear the bickering of familiar voices, one angrier than the others. 

Near the bar was an irate Azul, arguing with a bored looking Floyd. Based on what you could hear, Azul was asking Floyd about why his bedroom lock was jerry-rigged to lock him instead. 

“IDK Azul, I didn’t do it, wasn’t feeling up to anything like that today.” Floyd whined, flopping his head around before looking over to your group’s direction. He perked up as he noticed you, more specifically, noticed Tony. 

“HEY! TONY!” 

“HEY! FLOYD!”

Tony ran up to the taller man, dodging his attempts to grab him and ruffle his hair. The two played a small game of chase as Azul came up to you with a pleasant smile. 

“Y/N! Welcome back, I see you’ve taken on the role of housewarden quite well.” Azul nodded his head at you in greeting, directing his gaze to a stiff Aspen as he continued, “None of my students are giving you any trouble, I hope?”

You had the theory that his question wasn’t really for you, as he eyed Aspen up and down. His thoughts confirmed it, though. 

Aspy, you better have not been a pain, I know how you can be. 

Said individual was pointedly staring at one of the aquarium walls, pretending to be enthralled with the reefs and fish. 

Why do you even care, it’s not like they’re an actual mage. Just, stop staring… Please…

“Yeah, they’ve all been great, don’t worry about it.” You answered, smiling as you noticed the freshman relax. 

Yeah, I’ve been great! Hmph! Take that Zully!

Zully? Huh.

Azul smiled back, shifting his weight on his cane. “Good, I’m glad to hear. I apologize for not coming to greet you myself, it seems that someone—”

He directed a glare to Jade, who was still standing next to you with a small smile.

“—tried to lock me in my room, you wouldn’t happen to know who that was, would you Jade?”

“No, I can’t imagine who would do such a thing.” Damn, I should’ve added a spell too. I was in a rush to get to them first. “Would you like me to investigate?” 

“WoULd yOu LiKE mE TO INvesTIgATe” Oh shut up Jade, I bet it was you. 

“Yes please, that would be quite helpful, thank you, Jade.” Azul gestured for you to follow him. “Shall we?”

“Oh, we’re meeting, right cool, yes!” You sighed in relief as you rushed away from Jade to Azul’s side. “Just us right?”

“Us and Jade.” You screamed internally. “He’s in charge of the schedules, training, and position placements, so he’ll have to be involved.”

Aaah, at least we’ll be together in the same room again. I wonder if you’ll get flustered if I sit too close? Maybe I can get Azul to step out so we can be on our own…

Jade tapped you against Azul’s desk, hands reaching down to caress your thighs, before trailing down and making you wrap your legs around his waist. Your dress was unlaced and shirt unbuttoned to reveal your chest and neck, covered in hickies and bite marks.  Your hands were running through Jade’s hair tenderly, holding him close as you shared a deep kiss.  “Mmm~ Jade! Hurry, we’re gonna get caught if we—AH!” You yelped as Jade reached under your dress to tear a hole into your tights for easier access. Jade shushed you with another kiss, swallowing a loud moan as his hand worked you.  “We’ll get caught if you don’t stay quiet, unless you want to get caught~ Is that what you want? For everyone to know that you’re mine? For everyone to know that the one making you cry out in pleasure is me?”

Your face was rapidly turning red as you tripped over your feet, stumbling as Azul and Jade both reached out to catch you. Instead, you straightened and rushed out of their grasp, looking at Grim with a strained smile. 

It’s just for a bit. You can deal with Jade for a bit. 

“Okay! Grim, please go take care of the Scarabia students, and tell Kalim and Jamil I said hi. I’ll see you later!” 

Hmm? Oh yeah. “Got it! Hehe, I got a whole group of henchhumans to be in charge of now!”

Grim ran off, happy and in blissful ignorance, as you turned to address Azul, “I just remembered, I will have to go to Diasomnia today as well, so I can’t stay for long.”

Azul raised a brow, humming, “Is that so? I thought you didn’t have any Diasomnia students on your roster.”

“They don’t.” Jade answered, fond thoughts bouncing around his brain as he watched you walk. 

“I believe they should only have ours, Heartslabyul, and Pomefiore’s freshmen. I’m surprised that you also have Scarabia students, Prefect.”

Are you stressed? Are all the students too much? I can help! Ask me for help and I’ll make sure you’re never bothered by your freshmen again! 

You huffed at the suggestion, replying, “Jamil let them take residence with me to have a bit of extra space, since they were getting close to being overcrowded. Silver didn’t want to burden me with more. That’s all.”

“How kind of him, though I have to wonder if it was really a decision all his own, or if a certain prince asked~” Azul let out a musical laugh, smirking at your glare. 

“Tsk, please.” You opened your mouth to refute Azul, pausing as you felt a dark, angry presence from behind you. 

Hmph, as if they’d need assistance from him! He’s off in Briar Valley while I’m the one here with you, he’s hardly reliable. I don’t like what you’re implying Azul, did something happen between them over the summer that you’re not telling me?! Do I have to ask your mother for your baby pictures?

Slow blinking, you kept your gaze straight ahead, Azul’s words becoming gibberish as Jade continued ranting in his head. He was becoming increasingly more annoyed at the thought of you interacting with Malleus over the summer. 

I’m willing to bet that you would’ve enjoyed visiting the Coral Sea instead, hm?

Huh? Seriously?

I hear it’s dreary in Briar Valley, I think the warm waters of the Rosarian reefs would’ve suited your disposition much better! 

It’s not dreary, only a bit… you’re one to talk, don’t you live in the cold deep sea? That’s probably drearier than anything else, you can’t even see anything!

I would’ve shown you the perfect sightseeing location at Atlantia! I’m willing to bet my terrariums that he would’ve taken you to see gargoyles.

So? I find them quite delightful, you know?

“Prefect? Is your head in the clouds?” Azul lightly tapped your forehead as he stopped in front of his office. “You seem a bit out of it. Tired?”

“Uh.” You shook your head and stuttered, “No, just lost in thought, let’s get started.”

Azul opened the door to his office, gesturing for you to enter first, as he and Jade quickly followed after. Surprisingly, the whole ordeal was rather smooth sailing, if Jade’s constant barrage of what you could only describe as internal love bombing.

Cute~

Azul had brought out 5 student files, one for each student in your care and gave you the copies of their information. Class and club schedules, student ID numbers, and lots of information about their school before NRC. Interestingly enough, Aspen and Tony’s files were... sparse, with only their student information on the file. But no mention of their life, hobbies, or family before NRC.

I like that dress on you, it makes you look quite posh. 

Aw, are you nervous? You always tap your leg when you are, is it Azul? Is it me? HOW CUTE! There’s no need to be nervous around me, darling~ I only wish to make you and every other being in this school know that you belong to me~

You tapped your leg faster before pausing and shifting in your seat instead. 

Geez, just how much are you watching me to notice stuff like that?

“Based on their schedules, they should all be able to work their 15 hours throughout five week days.” Azul handed you a few files to look at the class and club schedules of your Octavinelle students. Each did have about 3 hours per day that they were free for a shift. 

“That leaves their weekend open for any duties they may have for Ramshackle and club activities. Are there any issues that could occur on your dorm’s end?”

Shaking your head, you looked through the student’s schedules with mild curiosity. 

“No, probably not. The Heartslabyul students have taken up most of the chores at the dorm.” 

Oh, Tony’s one of the ones in Spelldrive? Heh, ironic. 

“I’m pretty sure Riddle instilled the fear of the Seven in them, before sending them off to me.”

Oh, looks like Aspen’s in Pop Music Club? Huh, doesn’t seem like the type. Man, I really didn’t pay attention to their club paperwork…

“My my, that does seem like the Riddle we know.” Azul chuckled, nodding as Jade refilled his cup of tea. “Not surprising knowing how fond he is of you, isn’t that right, Jade?”

“ISn’T thAT riGHt JAde?” Yes, I’m aware, quit mocking me you're not too skinny to make a meal of.  

“Oh yes, I’m quite aware. I’m sure you enjoy having such a protective friend, Prefect.” I can be protective! He’s nothing compared to me! “You do quite need it, with all the trouble you’ve gotten into.”

“Really?” You nervously laughed, half-hearted and soft. “I guess? He’s just being a good friend, that's all, I’m sure.”

Azul scoffed, “For being a friend, he does underestimate you. I still remember how you almost took Jade’s head off when we first met. Remember, when you charge in here demanding I free everyone?”

You blinked rapidly in confusion. “What? I never did that, what are you talking about?”

“Oh, you don’t remember? Hah! Jade, they don’t remember nearly smacking your face with a server’s plate!” Azul laughed as you continued to look on in confusion. 

Jade smiled, chuckling along. “Oh? I do. Quite vividly, really.”

An image, or you guess a memory, passed through your mind of you, very clearly, brandishing a large silver platter like a weapon. The memory's vision shifted, dodging your hits as you tried slamming the plate into Jade’s face. 

“You were quite angry that we took your 3 friends as anemones. A rare sight, seeing as you’re tended hearted, hm?”

Aaaaah! I look at that memory so fondly, you looked so beautiful, angry! Fighting is always the first step to a moray’s heart~ 

You choked on the cookie in your mouth, frantically reaching and gulping your own cup of tea. Choosing to ignore Azul’s snickering, and Jade’s internal fretting, you nervously gasp-laughed. 

“Oh, I guess? Probably why I don’t remember, aha.”

“Perhaps. Back to the topic at hand,” Azul gestured to the schedules and continued, “do you foresee any issues with the shift schedules Jade assigned?”

You looked again, noticing the blocks drawn in a few of the spare spots in blue pen. 

“Ah, no, it all looks good.” You looked at the clock, peeking at the time. “Did we cover everything? I’m supposed to be meeting Riddle in about 15.”

Azul and Jade turned to look at it as well, the former clicking his tongue in disappointment. 

“Oh my, yes, this has gone far longer than needed.” Azul squinted at Jade. “Jade, I thought you were keeping the time?”

I know you’re lovesick, but please! Your brain isn’t made of sea foam, you know?

“Apologies. I have been quite focused on the schedules, I do have to ensure that they are able to fill in a position at work.” Jade replied, humming as he cleared the table of your empty plates and cups. 

I was just so enthralled by my pearl’s loveliness. They’re breathtaking…my love. 

You’re not sure what’s worse: the raunchy daydreams, or these. Sentences so full of yearning and devotion that it almost made you feel flattered. 

I want to hear what they sound like out of breath, can you even moan with no air in your lungs? How could you when I’m eating them up with my tongue~

Nope. Actually, the raunchy ones are worse. 

“Well!” You got up, dusting the imaginary dirt off your outfit. “If that’s all, then I’ll be heading to Heartslabyul. Grim will be bringing the remaining Octavinelle later for training, they all had clubs this morning.”

Azul nodded, holding the VIP Room door open. “That works perfectly. I’ll have Jade escort you over.”

“What? No, no, no!” You laughed, waving your hands and shaking your head. “I’m perfectly find walking myself-”

“Nonsense, we are a dorm of gentlemen after all, Jade?”

Say something this time, I beg. I don’t want to hear you whining about clamming up again. 

“Of course, if you will, Prefect?” Thank you, Azul, perhaps I won’t eat you after all.

You stiffened, eyeing the arm Jade held out. With a resounding sigh, you nodded and ever so lightly wrapped a hand around his bicep. You chose to ignore the cheers in Jade’s head. 

“Okay, fine. Bye Azul, I’ll see you at the next housewarden meeting.” You waved as you and Jade made your way through the hall into the lounge’s main dining hall. It was fairly full, the Mostro Lounge was always busy over the weekends, and you could see Tony running around with Floyd. He was carrying two trays in each of his hands with ease, balancing drinks with little concern. 

What are you doing! Let go of Jade’s arm, you whore! Die die die diediediediediediedie—

You quickly swiped your hand back from Jade’s arm, noticing the small pout he gave at that. From the corner of your eye, you could see Aspen (and the rage that was practically emanating like an aura) seething at you. He was muttering to himself as he angrily cleaned the inside of a glass tumbler. It seemed that he was put at the bar to “train” though based on Floyd following around Tony, who was gossiping with him, Aspen wasn’t actually getting much training in. 

That’s right, you better take your filthy hands off of him, you’re a sorry excuse of a mage and an even worse excuse of a human! You’re not even that pretty, you gross little—oh crap you’re staring, look away look away!

Aspen turned a deep lavender, looking down at the glass in his hand like it was the most interesting thing since sliced bread. You gestured at Aspen and suggested to Jade, “It looks like Floyd kinda left Aspen to fend for himself, maybe you should help him out? I can make it to Heartslabyul just fine.”

“Hmm? Oh dear, I suppose you are correct.” Jade sighed, eyeing Floyd as he and Tony leaned against a wall, chatting away. 

“Though, I’m sure I can escort you and be back in a reasonable amount of time. It would be rude of me to abandon you so, especially when Azul asked me to do so.”

“It’s not that big of a deal…”

“Nonsense, let’s be off now.” Jade shushed any further concerns of you as he gently pushed you to the exit. He nodded to Aspen as you two walked by, mouthing ‘I’ll be back’ to the young man. 

From the corner of your eye, you could see Aspen physically deflate at Jade leaving. Floyd noticed and gave his brother a wink, while Tony briefly frowned, looking between you, Jade, and Aspen. 

Just let me be around you a bit longer, my pearl.

You sighed, relaxing as Jade’s hand remained comfortably on your upper back. Though the thought of Jade cornering you in a spare empty room as you headed to the mirror made you warm up, Jade seemed remarkably relaxed around you, for once. 

It was weird, him just humming along without any screams or daydreams of fucking you. 

Weird…wait no! This is ideal, don’t jinx it! Knock on wood, or he’s gonna think of something! Wood, wood, wood?? AH! It’s all glass and metal here!

“After you, Prefect.” you’d been so distracted that you didn’t notice that Jade and you made it to the lounge doors. He was holding the handle of the exit, motioning for you to enter the bubble forming at the door. 

You made a small sound of surprise, rushing forward to push your body through the bubble. You weren’t quite used to the bubble, so It took a bit of effort, which caused you to fall forward. Jade’s arm wrapped around your waist, catching your fall. A small gasp left your mouth as he pulled you flush against his torso, your cheeks warming. 

Ah, you’re so soft. And clumsy. You need me to care for you, don’t you?

“Careful,” Jade purred into your ear. “I would hate to see you hurt, though I’d be happy to tend to you if that happened.”

You felt your stomach flip and heat settle as Jade’s hand tightened its grip. If it wasn’t for the warm breath tingling your ear and the rumble of Jade’s chest against your back while he spoke, you’d think this was another one of his fantasies. 

I can feel your heart pounding, are you nervous? Do I make you nervous?

Jade leaned farther down, his body nearly covering your own. Ironically, he was nervous himself, if his quick breaths were anything to go by.

You feel so warm against me, I wonder if you’ll feel just as warm when I’m inside…

Oh Sevens, seriously? Now!?

I would make you feel good, give you the most incredible pleasure ever known…

Please, bubble, move faster! Eek! Jade, where are you putting that hand!

Jade’s hand trailed upward, resting just below your chest. 

Ah, is this really real? It is!! I can feel your heart. 

“Just ask, and I’ll serve. I’m sure you could use the help now and then.”

Just say something, please! I want to hear your voice. 

What am I supposed to… god, why am I so flustered?!

Despite your thoughts, you couldn’t find yourself trying to get out of his grasp. Maybe it was due to the nerves, or the way the warmth in your belly almost felt pleasant, but you weren’t sure how to respond to Jade. 

“Uh, n-no that’s fine.” You mumbled, shifting as Jade continued to hold you, though it seemed his hand was loosening. “I’m good…by myself.”

But you’re never by yourself, are you? You have many friends, ready to come at your beck and call. Why won’t you add me to your little roster? 

“If you say so. Just know I’m always ready to be of assistance.” Jade finally let you go as the bubble finally floated up to Octavinelle’s mirror. It pressed against the now glowing mirror, allowing you to push into the flickering glass of the mirror. 

The familiar Hall of Mirrors was comforting, the air filling your lungs as you took a deep breath to  calm your racing heart and nerves. Jade followed, though he stayed close to the Octavinelle entrance. 

“Ah, I should be heading to Heartslabyul before I run late.” You nodded at Jade as you walked away. “Take care of Aspen, I think he’s nervous.” 

You omitted ‘around you’ for Aspen’s sake. 

Oh, that’s sweet. Is that so? How can you tell?

Jade smiled as he walked away, “How kind, I’ll be sure to keep an extra eye on him.”

The teal-haired man gave a small wave as he disappeared into a soft light through the mirror. 

See you soon, my love. 

You briefly watched him leave, before sighing and turning back around. 

Geez, that was intense… I’m surprised a that you didn’t freak out more—

GAH! I CAN’T BELIEVE I DID THAT!!!!!!

You brought up a hand to cover the snort leaving your mouth. 

Ah, there it is. Okay, I guess you’re a bit funny sometimes…

[cmncisspnandmore]

One Night Stand; Part 6

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley X Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Shower smut, Slight breeding kink if you squint, Simon Riley being a literal angel, basically all smut with a little bit of plot.

A/N: Hi loves, imma be real, i wrote this entire part in a day. I spent pretty much my entire afternoon writing this after i scrapped about 4 different versions. This is the best i got at the moment. Im still working on this series and requests. Just life is kinda busy. So please bear with me and enjoy the brain rot. This is also not proofread at all so RIP to any grammar police.

Word Count: 3012... This seemed longer.. sowwie, its smol.

New to the Series? Catch up here: Part 5

You sleepily make your way towards the bathroom door, hand closing over the knob as the incessant need to pee urges you forward. It was a little after 2am, you had fallen asleep rather early having spent most of the day lounging around the apartment. 

Simon was on base for the day, running training exercises with Soap, Gaz and Captain Price. During the 3 months you have been living with Simon, you have come to learn his patterns. Training days meant that 9 times out of 10 he would spend the night on base. The days before a deployment he would make sure to stock the fridge and pantry with your favorites. On Sundays he did laundry, every 3rd wednesday he would get his haircut. Saturdays after returning for deployment were reserved for going out to Soap’s bar and having a well deserved drink. You also learnt his day to day routine, every morning he was home Simon rose at exactly 5:00am, went on a 12 mile run, when he returned if you weren't already awake he would prepare you a healthy breakfast and leave it out for you before heading to work. 

On days when you were awake when he got back from his run he would shower, and you both would spend some time preparing breakfast together. Although those mornings instead of the nutritionally packed meals he usually prepared you often convinced him to make some sort of carb and sugar filled breakfast. Those mornings he would often leave the flat grumbling about how he should’ve run extra. Those mornings were your favorite. 

Since you moved in your relationship with Simon had not progressed further than friends, sure there was still the burning desire that he ignited within you from just looking at you. And you would often linger just a little bit too long in his arms when he would give you a hug. But there hadn't been any kissing, and you haven't managed to end up naked in between his sheets. But that wasn't for lack of wanting.

As you shove open the bathroom door, you fail to realize that not only was the light on but the sound of running water was coming from the shower. As you quickly beeline for the enclosed toilet space, you don't feel a set of brown eyes watching your every move from behind the foggy glass. It isn't until you wash your hands in the sink and glance up into the large mirror on the wall that you realize you aren't alone. Through the fogged glass of the mirror you can make out Simon’s large silhouette, his tanned skin reduced to nothing more than a tan blob. 

“Oh my god!” You squeak, whirling around, your chest heaving as you finally face Simon. He's mostly obscured by the fogged glass door of the walk-in shower, but his bemused smile is clear. “I didn't think you would be coming home!” You mutter out, your cheeks turning pink as he runs his hand across the glass cleaning away some of the fog. Now you can clearly see his face, although distorted by the water droplets on the glass. 

“I should’ve texted you, I'm sorry.. I just didn't want to be late for the appointment in the morning..” Simon says as he reaches up, running his hand through his wet blonde hair.

“No, no! I'm sorry, I should've paid more attention. I'm such an airhead sometimes I didn't realize that there was someone in here..” you rush out as you try to desperately keep your eyes from straying from Simon's face. You aren’t sure if it's the heat from the shower or the pregnancy hormones but it takes all your willpower to keep your eyes from trailing down his toned body. 

Simon pauses for a moment, his dark brown eyes trailing over you, from the adorable flush of your cheeks to the swell of your stomach under the sleep shirt you have on. “It’s alright. Love," Simon smiles. One of his panty dropping smiles that you swear he reserves for only you. It's the smile that sends shivers straight to your core. That leaves you a hot panting mess behind closed doors. Living with Simon and not jumping his bones at every opportunity was damn near torture during your second trimester. You were able to take care of things yourself, but now that your bump had grown substantially, you hadn’t been able to find relief.  

Without thinking, you walk towards the shower and yank open the door, the hot steam pouring out. Little splashes of water hit your skin as you step into the small space. Your sleep shirt and shorts quickly drenched, as Simon stares at you wide eyed. 

“Sweetheart…” Simon warns as your hands come to rest on his wet cheeks, your thumb catching on his bottom lip as he looks down at you, his pupils blown wide. You quickly close the space between you two, your bump pressing against the firm plains of his abs, your arms snaking around his neck as you sharply tug him down to your height. Your lips capture his in a sloppy, wet kiss. Simon groans low in his throat, his chest vibrating against your overly sensitive breasts. A new wave of need pluses through you as you try to get closer, Simon's cock jumping to life as it presses against your lower stomach. Simon's large hands land on your hips squeezing slightly as he turns you, pressing your back against the cold tile wall of the shower. 

A startled gasp rushes past your lips as your back makes contact with the cold tile. A shiver running through you as your wet shirt makes it feel colder. Simon smiles against your lips, one hand coming up to graze over your pebbled nipples through the sopping wet fabric of your shirt. A breathy moan slips from you as Simon peppers kisses down the side of your jaw to your neck. The spray from the showerhead now sprays off his shoulders as he leans lower. 

“Fuck.. Please,” you whine, nails scratching along the tops of his shoulders Simon wraps his lips around one of your nipples, over the fabric of your shirt. The friction from the wet fabric sends waves of pleasure through you straight to your core, your legs starting to shake with need and Simon has barely touched you.

“Such a needy girl…” Simon murmurs against your skin, as he flicks his tongue across your nipple. Your cheeks flush pink at his words but you’re hanging on to each one like they’re your life line. “Why didn't you just come to me if you needed some help baby?” Simon whispers softly, as his fingers trace the bottom of your bump, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt as he pushes it up.

“I…I don't know,” You mumble your head tipping back against the cold shower wall. 

Simon hums, his lips once again brushing across one of your nipples, pulling another moan from you. “God, your tits are amazing. It’s been hell walking around trying not to stare at them. Knowing that my child is the reason, knowing that they are growing to provide milk for our baby,” Simon whispers against your skin, and you swear you could cum just from the sounds of his voice. 

“Simon… Please…” you whine, it's small and breathy, in any other circumstance you would be ashamed for sounding so weak, but right now you couldn't give two shits if the damn queen of England was standing here witnessing your plea.

“Tell me what you need baby, I don't want to hurt you..” Simon stands back to his full height, his hand coming to cup the side of your face. You force your eyes open, Simon's beautiful brown eyes staring at you. Simon is a large man, in all aspects of his life and the last thing he would ever want to do is hurt you unintentionally. Especially now, as you carry his child within you, he would rather be buried alive again than accidentally do something to hurt you or the baby.

“I need you to bend me over and fuck me senseless. I feel like I'm going to explode,” you whine, your needy hands coming to rake down his bare chest, sending a shiver through Simon's entire body. 

“Whatever you need, Love,” Simon grunts before he bends down and picks you up, nudging open the shower door with his shoulder as he cradles you against his wet chest. He doesn’t stop to turn off the shower or even dry himself off as he brings you into his room. He sets you down on your feet and quickly drops to his knees in front of you. His still warm hands catching the waistband of your wet sleep shorts. He pulls them down your legs, goosebumps erupting across your skin from the sudden change in temperature. 

Simon presses a series of soft kisses to the stretched skin of your stomach, his hands briefly cupping your belly/ “Hi Lovie,” he whispers softly to your bump and if you weren’t so ravishingly horny you could cry. The sight of probably one of the scariest men you know on his knees in front of you talking to his unborn child makes you want to scream in the best way. But your mind quickly goes blank as Simon's fingers trace the smooth skin of your inner thigh. 

“Turn around, elbows on the bed, pet,” Simon stands again, his hands on your shoulders as he gently turns you. As if on autopilot you lean forwards, resting your elbows on the bed, giving Simon a perfect view of your ass. A deep groan hits your ears as Simon's hand comes to massage the puffy flesh of your ass. Your skin prickles with anticipation as his fingers dip lower, gathering the slick wetness from between your thighs. The breath wooshed from your lungs as he thrusts one finger into your slick cunt. 

“You’re so wet for me, such a good girl aren't you?” Simon hums, lazily thrusting his finger before he adds a second. You tip your hips back, trying to make him go faster, this slow languid pace he was setting was driving you mad. You needed to be fucked, and god damn if you didn't get it right now you were going to cry. 

“Si…” you whine, pushing your hips back into his hand as he curls his fingers within you. 

“Hmm?”

“I’m pregnant, not made of fucking glass. I swear if you don't fu-” Your voice cuts off as Simon slams into you in one quick thrust. Your world spins for a moment and if you hadn't been holding onto the bed for support you would’ve fallen over. A startled gasp passes your lips and Simon all but freezes. “No please don't stop, it just feels different but not in a bad way…” You quickly mumble reaching back haphazardly with one hand to try and grab Simon's hip to force him to move.  

“You sure?” Simon mumbles, his hands coming to rest on your hips, as he slowly pulls out before sinking back in. 

“Oh god, yes, please,” you moan, your face now pressed into the mattress. That was all it took for Simon to continue, his hips thrust into you at a rapid pace, obscene moans leaving your lips as he slams home each time. Sex felt different this time, there was no slight burn from how big Simon was but you felt full, so deliciously full. You had been worried about having sex at any point during your pregnancy, having read that some women have no sex drive during pregnancy, especially the 3rd trimester. But thank the lord above it was not the case for you. Your thoughts turn to nothing as Simon lets out a harsh moan, your walls fluttering around him. 

“Fuck baby, you’re squeezing me so tight,” Simon grunts as he adjusts his grip on your hip bones,his fingertips digging into your skin.

“Feels so good Simon.. I'm gonna cum..” You whimper as the familiar coil in your stomach tightens, teetering on the edge of release as he pounds into you. Your skin slapping against each other so loud you're sure the neighbors know what's going on.

“Cum for me baby,” Simon leans forward, one hand wrapping around your shoulder as he pulls you up slightly, your elbows no longer resting on the bed as he pulls you up against his chest. His hips still pistoning into you as he uses the new position to fuck into your harder. You reach up and grab the back of his neck with your hand, anchoring yourself to him, your other hand coming to find the hand still on your waistline. You guide his hand up to your throat where he gives it a gentle squeeze. 

That small squeeze was all you needed to go tumbling over the edge into oblivion. Stars dance in front of your vision as the world goes quiet for a moment. Simon finds his own release moments after yours, his entire body tensing behind you. As you turn to putty in his arms, “Woah, I’ve got you,” Simon whispers into your sweaty hairline as his arms carefully wrap around you and he manages to slip out of you and hold you up. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, fully sated as you lean against his chest. You can feel his heart hammering against your back, one arm firmly around you, right under your breasts the other resting lightly on your bump. His fingers softly rubbing along your soft skin. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Simon grunts, maneuvering you to the edge of the bed where he helps lower you into it. 

“I just basically jumped you in the shower… “ you mutter, your eyes heavy as exhaustion hits you like a freight train hitting a brick wall. 

Simon pauses as he gathers your wet pj’s from the floor and shoves them into his laundry basket. “You think I would be upset by you jumping me in the shower?” He asks, a small smile on his face. 

You lift your head, watching as he shoves the clothes into the basket and grabs a black long sleeve shirt from the closet. He walks over, standing in front of you still in all his naked glory, the shirt in his hands. “Well.. I mean.. we haven’t exactly expressed wanting more than friendship..” 

“Love, I’ve been taking it slow because I thought you only wanted to be friends… not because I wanted to. God, watching you walk around the apartment, your stomach growing with my child drives me insane, I’ve wanted to bend you over the kitchen counter and fuck you sensless every morning since the first day you got here.” Simon pulls the shirt over your head, and you put your arms through, the shirt still fits loosely even over your baby bump. 

“Oh…” you freeze for a moment, you and Simon had gotten closer over the time you’ve lived with him. You had learnt about his past, about his mother and brother. About his nephew. You held him when he cried one night, his words a broken mess of how he was afraid he would turn out to be his dad. How he wished he could talk to his brother one last time, so he could ask him how he got past the fear of turning into his dad. How he handled the fear of being a dad when he had Joseph.

But the entire time you had lived together Simon had always treated you with respect, he never touched your stomach without asking. He always made sure to keep a respectable distance from you when you were on the couch. He never entered your room without permission and never asked about your life before coming to London. 

But it wasn’t to say you didn’t share things with Simon, he knew your favorite color, your worst fear (unrelated to your family’s passing) , your greatest wish, he knew what you used to dream about being as a little kid. He knew that your favorite food could make you smile on your worst days, and that you liked to watch old sitcoms when it rained. If someone was to look into your conversations they would probably think you were already together. That you probably didn’t flaunt the physical aspects of your relationship. Simon had quickly broken down the walls you had put up around yourself, and had comfortably made his own spot in your heart.

Simon sits next to you, now dressed in a pair of black sweatpants, his large hand covering yours. You slowly look up at him, his brow furrowed as he studies your face. The small scar in his eyebrow evident this close, you reach out running a finger across it. The skin is slightly raised and water drips from his hair onto your finger.

“Then you should stop fighting the urge…” you finally whisper, your hand cupping the rough skin of Simon’s face. 

“Would you be okay with that? With me touching you whenever I wanted… holding you.. kissing you?” Simon whispers, his eyes closing for a moment as he leans into your hand.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, your forehead coming to rest against his, your eyes closed. For a moment you just sit there. Your foreheads pressed together, your breath mingling.

Could you be okay with that?

Could you let someone in that way?

Let someone get close enough that they could see all the broken and jagged edges of you?

Could you open yourself up to losing someone again?

The thought of Simon being gone suddenly, ripped away from you by some unknown, the same person who ripped your siblings and mother away from you makes you want to vomit.

But a small part of you chimes in, the part that knows Simon isn’t defenseless like your family was. Simon was a trained military man, a man who single handedly killed an entire crew for crossing him. He could handle himself. He had proved that time and time again in the field. He also had the rest of 141, the team who would go to the ends of the earth to find him. 

You open your eyes, and look at Simon, the answer on the tip of your tongue as you stare at his beautiful face. His light blonde stubble, the small scars, the crook in his nose, the slightly uneven line of his lower lip. “Yes… I-I want that.. I want all of it.”

Next Part: 7

Taglist: @coffeeandtealol, @natashamea18

[candycandy00]

The Maiden’s Voyage - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 4 (Final)

You’re a passenger on a ship attacked by pirates. The pirate captain Sukuna chooses you to be his entertainment for the voyage.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. AU. Sukuna as a Pirate Captain. Very rough sex! Violence. Blood. Sukuna is a cruel, sadistic monster here! You’ve been warned!

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! There will be multiple parts because I got really attached to this idea and it was getting too long. Any feedback, comments, reblogs, etc. will make my day sunny and bright! 💖 Dividers by @benkeibear!

“Sukuna!”

Your voice doesn’t sound like it belongs to you as you cry out his name. You’re behind him, unable to see where he was stabbed, but blood is pooling at your feet. 

The man who attacked you is suddenly thrown back, his body slamming into the deck. Sukuna turns to face you, and you see that the dagger has stabbed completely through his forearm. It frightens you, but you can’t help being relieved that he hasn’t been hit in a vital spot. 

Several other pirates run over and grab the attacker, holding him down. His face is shoved down against the deck. 

“He must have stowed away at the port,” one of them says to Sukuna. 

The captain walks over to the man, seeming completely unfazed by the knife stuck in his arm. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But your plan was weak.”

The man grunts in frustration, trying in vain to break free. “Murderer! You’ll burn in hell for what you’ve done!”

Sukuna grins down at him. “Maybe I’ll fuck your fiancé when I get there. Oh wait, you said her body was found on the ship. She must have been an ugly, worthless cunt if I didn’t bother bringing her to my ship for my men to fuck.”

The man’s face twists in rage and despair, and he screams. No words, just a guttural howl of fury. And mid scream, Sukuna brings his boot down on the man’s head, cracking it open like watermelon. You turn your face away. You’ve seen bloodshed before, on your own ship, but it doesn’t make this any less gruesome. And even though the man tried to kill you, you can’t help feeling sorry for him. He lost someone precious to him in a horrific way. That would drive anyone to madness. 

Sukuna turns to you. “Let’s go back to my quarters.”

You look at his arm and then back to his face. “But, the dagger! You need to-“

“I need a strong drink!” he says, grinning to his men. They cheer their captain, and one of them hurries off to get that drink.

Sukuna takes you by the hand and pulls you along with him. On the way back to his cabin, one of the pirates hands him a full bottle of rum. 

Once inside, he shuts the door and heads over to his bed to sit down. He opens the bottle of rum and takes a long drink. 

“Don’t you have a doctor on this ship?” you ask, moving over to him. 

“I do, but I’m not going to him.”

“What?! Why not? You’ve got a dagger in your arm! When you pull it out, you’ll bleed to-“

“I’m the captain of this ship,” he says firmly. “I can’t show weakness in front of my men. It would be better to die from an injury than to be killed in a mutiny and have my legacy tarnished.”

“That’s ridiculous!” you shout, realizing a second later that it’s the first time you’ve raised your voice to him outside of your screams during sex. 

He puts one hand on the hilt of the dagger. “It’ll be fine. I’ve had worse wounds.”

“Wait!” you yell, then hurry over to the dresser to pull out a fresh sheet. You rip it into strips. “You’ll need to bandage it quickly!”

He takes another drink of the rum, then jerks the dagger out and drops it to the floor. Blood begins pouring out of the wound at an alarming rate. He pours some of the rum over it, not even wincing at the burn, then reaches for the strips of cloth. 

You rush over and grab them, holding his arm out and beginning to wrap it up. Sukuna pulls his arm free. “I can do it myself! I’m not depending on a woman to-“

“Twice now!” you suddenly say, cutting him off. “Twice now you’ve told me to touch you as I please! This is how I please! Will you go back on your words, Captain?”

He stares at you for a moment, then laughs. “You’re right. Do as you wish then.”

He holds still from then on and lets you bandage his arm tightly. It takes more cloth than you expected, forcing you to tear up more strips, and Sukuna finishes off the rum. When finished, you sigh and sit on the bed beside him. “We’ll have to change it every couple days or so, and watch out for infection. But I think this has stopped the bleeding.”

He looks at you, his eyes slightly glazed from the rum and the blood loss. “Why are you doing this? You should be trying to kill me yourself.”

“You only got stabbed because you stood in front of me,” you tell him. “Why did you do that?”

He scoffs, looking away from you. “I told you before. I’m not done playing with you yet. I intend to enjoy you thoroughly before the end of this voyage.”

It strikes you then that this is the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him. Injured and weakened, while still maintaining his smug persona. But there’s something in his demeanor, in his eyes, that feels different. He leans just slightly against you, the shoulder of his injured arm touching yours. 

You reach one hand over and place it carefully on his bandages. His body feels warm next to you. “Thank you for protecting me,” you say quietly. 

He meets your gaze, wearing a mysterious expression. “I’m an injured man. Are you going to comfort me, woman?”

You suddenly feel hot, almost feverish. You realize there’s a part of you that’s been wanting to touch him all evening. You stand up from the bed and move to stand in front of him. As he watches, you slowly pull off the lovely new dress and drape it over a nearby chair, then you step closer until you’re standing between his legs. 

His uninjured arm circles around you, pulling you so that your body is pressed firmly against him. You wrap your arms around his neck and he tilts his head up slightly. You kiss him, deeply and passionately, your lips smashed into his, your tongue slipping into his hot, rum coated mouth. 

You feel a hand softly squeezing your breast, and look down to see that he’s using his bandaged arm. You wonder absently if flexing his fingers like this hurts his wound. But then his mouth moves down, trailing kisses down your neck and collarbone before  closing around your hardened nipple, his wet tongue flicking at it. 

Your breathing gets faster as you snake your hands down to open his pants. Unsurprisingly, he’s already hard, his huge cock standing up straight and proud. You position yourself above it, then slowly sink down, wincing slightly at how he stretches you. 

He’s staring at your face, his expression calm, as if he hasn’t just been stabbed, as if there’s not a naked woman currently in his lap, struggling to take his entire cock. You want to make him react, to see his handsome face display the pleasure you give him, so you lower yourself further down, gasping when you feel that he’s all the way in. 

You sit there for a moment, your arms wrapped around him, face pressed into his shirt, giving yourself time to adjust to his massive size. It’s a luxury you don’t normally get. Strangely, he doesn’t rush you to begin moving, or thrust up into you. His good arm simply remains wound around your back.  

Once you’re ready, you pull back slightly to look him in the eyes as you gradually begin moving up and down. Your hands slip down and begin unbuttoning his shirt. You’re struck by the urge to feel his muscled torso against your skin, to see those alluring tattoos. Once his shirt is open, your fingers slide beneath it, your palms rubbing over his chest. 

You know you’re playing a dangerous game. These feelings you’re experiencing will only bring you pain. Another pirate sneeringly told you that Captain Sukuna never keeps or releases his women. Without exception he always either kills them or hands them over to his men once he’s done playing with them. The pirate seemed to think it would be the latter, and you cringed when his eyes roved over you. 

How will you feel when he decides he’s tired of you? When he’s stabbing you to death? When he’s laughing and watching his men take turns with you? 

You can’t imagine it, but you also can’t fight what you’re feeling right now as you sink down to the base of his cock again, taking quick shuddering breaths as you maintain eye contact with him. 

***********************

Sukuna still doesn’t know exactly why he protected her. He tells himself it’s probably because he didn’t want to lose his plaything for the rest of the voyage. But the truth is, he moved without thinking, as if it were a reflex. 

And now, that beautiful, delicate flower he protected is riding him so well. His instinct is to throw her onto the bed and fuck her violently, but there’s something appealing about watching her take the lead, watching her take his cock so very deep of her own accord. Her motions are slow, but deliberate, intimate. She clenches him tightly, her eyes full of lust, her lips plump and swollen from their kiss. 

She leans her head down, and he feels her wet little tongue on his chest, licking along the black lines of ink. Ah, such a sweet maiden. He could stay buried inside her forever. 

What is he going to do with her? The thought of any of his men touching her, experiencing her tight, velvety pussy for themselves, fills him with intense anger. And he can’t bring himself to snuff out her existence. 

He pushes these thoughts to the back of his mind. No use thinking about it now, while she’s wrapped around him so pleasingly. She pushes down again, taking him all the way in, and her soft hands tremble as her breaths hitch. Her face looks blissful, her expression rapturous. 

“You’re… so deep… inside me,” she says, now gripping his shoulders for dear life. “Feels… so good!”

Sukuna has never done this before, never allowed a woman to climb onto him and fuck herself on his cock as she pleases, going so slowly and carefully. He’s always only cared for his own pleasure, which he got from pounding into women as roughly as possible, enjoying their screams and the friction of fucking them so hard. 

But looking at the unbelievably beautiful woman before him, he’s beginning to understand the appeal of fucking this way. Watching such a pure, innocent maiden’s face glow with pleasure just from having his cock inside her is making him feel heated in a way he’s never experienced before. 

Her eyes are locked onto his, and she suddenly appears shy. Funny, considering she’s completely naked, breasts bouncing in front of his face as her slick pussy moves up and down his shaft. “Does it… feel good… for you?” she asks as she continues moving, clearly craving validation from him. 

He grins at her. “Feels so good, I’m going to completely fill your womb with my cum.”

She sighs, closing her eyes as if she’s content. Then her arms are around him again, her body pressed to his, and he can feel her heartbeat through her skin. It’s beating so fast as she moves her hips in a circular motion, moaning when his cock hits the right spot inside her. 

When she cums, she clamps down on him, and he can feel her shuddering as her heart races. Sukuna has never truly felt another human being so deeply before, been so connected to another person, and for a brief moment, even he is overwhelmed. A throaty moan escapes his lips, and she immediately looks at his face, her eyes wide. In the heat of the moment, he only wants to feel more of her, so he pulls her into a kiss, their tongues mingling, until he reaches release.

As promised, he fully coats her insides with his seed, wanting to dye her in his colors completely. 

The pain in his arm is all but forgotten as they stay there on the bed, melded into each other. 

******************************

For the next several days, things are back to what you call normal on this ship. Sukuna goes back to being rough with you, but your body has slowly begun to enjoy it, to a certain degree. 

For as long as you live, you’ll never forget the sheer intimacy of that night, when he was gentle with you for the first time. You felt like the two of you became one, if only for a few moments. You long to experience that again, but Sukuna has shown no inclination towards repeating that night.

The end of the two weeks is quickly approaching, and you feel dread building in the pit of your stomach. Your only plan is to beg Sukuna to kill you swiftly, because dying by his hands would be preferable to being handed over like a piece of meat, discarded and unwanted. 

So on the eve before your last day, before the ship will dock at their destination, you feel extremely anxious as you wait in Sukuna’s quarters. When he walks in, you stand up from the bed, holding your hands in front of you nervously. 

“We’ll reach land in the morning,” Sukuna tells you. “We’re just spending a few days there to resupply and rest.”

You nod, wondering why he’s bothering to tell you. 

He looks at your worried face, and he’s silent for a moment. You have your plea prepared in your mind. You’ll as him to give you a quick and painless death. But he sighs and sits in his chair. “When we dock, you’ll leave the ship. I’ll give you enough gold to buy passage to wherever you were going.”

You feel like you’ve been slapped. “What?”

“I’m letting you go,” he says. “You can return to whatever life you were living.”

Your fists are now balled at your sides. Your whole body is shaking as tears sting your eyes. “How dare you!” you suddenly shout. 

Sukuna blinks, surprised by your outburst. 

“You kidnap me,” you begin, “have your way with me, make me fall in love with you, then send me away?! How could you?!”

His eyes widen slightly, then that smug grin you’ve grown to love spreads over his face. “So you’ve actually fallen for me?”

You feel your cheeks burning. You didn’t intend to confess your feelings this way. But the cat’s out of the bag now. “Yes, I have. And I won’t be thrown off the ship like a stowaway!”

Sukuna stands up and steps over to you. “If you stay, I can’t guarantee anything. I might end up doing something truly heinous to you.”

You look up at him. “I understand.”

He puts one hand on your face, his thumb grazing your lips. “I won’t go easy on you just because you love me. I’ll still fuck you whenever I want, as hard as I want.”

You swallow, then slowly nod. “I can accept that.”

His eyes seem to soften. “But I suppose… fucking you gently every now and then wouldn’t be so bad.”

He leans in and kisses you softly. When he pulls away, you steel your resolve and say, “I have a request.”

There’s a hint of surprise on his face as he says, “Oh? And what would that be? More dresses? We can get some when we dock.”

“No more women,” you say. 

He laughs. “Jealous already? I don’t intend to take a woman for myself while I already have one who pleases me.”

“No, I mean… no taking any women. At all.”

“The men will hate you,” he says, though he’s still smiling. 

“I was thinking about this. There should be women willing to come aboard and… entertain the crew if they’re paid or perhaps given free passage to somewhere they’d like to go.”

“You mean whores.”

That’s not a word you’re comfortable using, but you nod. “Yes. And wouldn’t the men be better served by women who choose to be here, who have experience pleasuring men?”

“I’ll consider it,” he says, then he suddenly jerks your body to him and wraps his arms around you. His wound seems to be healing well. “Now take off this dress before I rip it off. You’ll need something to wear when we disembark tomorrow.”

You slide the dress up and over your head. “Will you be gentle with me tonight?” you ask. 

His hands are already exploring your body. “Not when you ask me so sweetly. It only makes me want to ravage you more.”

Your fingers are tracing his tattoos. “But I wanted to feel you tonight, all the way to my core, while I ride you.”

He pauses, looking into your eyes. “You’ve bewitched me, woman.”

You smile at him as he takes your hand and leads you to the bed. Your true voyage has only just begun. 

[littyhoney]

Right Person,Wrong Time. (part 2)

BIG SPOILER WARNING TO ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE!!

Earth 42 Miles Morales x Reader

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

Chapter summary: It has been a year and Miles can’t seem to move on from Gwen…how much longer can you take for always be in the dark? But little did you know someone is waiting in the dark for you..

Warning: Spoilers for the movie Across the Spider-verse, long chapter,heavy Angst

p/s: if some of you are confuse if this is Miles 1610 fic or Miles 42 its Miles 42 but the chapters are for build ups for extra pain hehe enjoy! also i try my best to make it gender neutral <3

You walk through the sidewalk making your way to Miles apartment with bluetooth headphones on both of your hand in your pockets of your hoodie to keep you warm from the chilling air, In your ears is blasting a music from the Weeknd-Call out my name.

It has been a year…for that whole year you have been there for Miles again and again and again… and every single time you fail to win Miles over. You been very vague of your feeling towards Miles but the boy seems to be too focus on someone else..Gwen Stacy. You have try to let him know that you’re there! Not her,whenever he is down you’re there to comfort him,not Gwen. Whenever he is in trouble you would cover for him, you become so selfless over him not wanting to see him get hurt..but who will care for you? Protect you? You just don’t know…

You walk over the steps leading up to the Morales front door and knock on it as you pull your headphones off. You hear the door unlock and open for you to see Mrs Morales “Hey mama Rio,is Miles here? He didn’t answer his phone”

“Really? Oh well he is in his room, come in dear its cold outside”The woman smiles as she close the door behind you  as you walk in, clearly you know where miles get such a warm smile from “Thanks Mama Rio”you smile at the woman taking your hoodie off.

“Oh dear I almost forgot that we be making a party up at the rooftop,its uh a celebration for Jeff becoming the next captain”You look at her with a big smile before let out a chuckle, you knew that Jeff is a good cop who always keeping the city safe “Congrats! Wow! Uh il make sure to come by the party, thanks for the invite Mama Rio”you walk towards Miles door “Anytime dear”the woman speaks before focus back to her Tv show.

You knock on the door to Miles room before a muffle come in speaks from inside the room,you open the door and lean on the door frame with a small smirk “Sup coco head”looking at Miles who is sitting at his desk with his headphones on.

Miles yelp when he turn around to see you by the door before he rip his headphones off his head turning towards you “Geez (N/n) I though you were my mom” Miles sigh before he slump back on his seat “Wait why are you here?”he tilt his head looking at you.

You sigh as you drop your head before push yourself up from the door frame walking towards Miles and pull out your phone showing him the miss calls and unread messages "You promise to hang out today at the park,remember? you told me over the phone yesterday for basketball?”you feel slightly annoyed now knowing he keeps forgetting his promises these past months but you still have sympathy over him,since he been over his head lately.

Miles sit up straigh before looking up at you,guilt drawn all over his face “I-Im sorry man I forgot it’s just ‘sigh’ a lot of things have been going on in my head lately”

“oh,what happened? don’t tell me you got in trouble again Miles”you said with a slight frown drawn on your face looking down at him. Miles head snap back to you shaking his head “noo nono”he laugh nervously as he try to convinve you,clearly he is in trouble.

“Miles..”you look at him squinting your eyes at him frow drawn on your eyebrows. Miles sigh defeated before he held his head in his hand on the table “I uhh..okay..the principal wants to see me and my parents tomorrow..”

You look at him in shock before you held your hand on your waist “But I though you aced the exam Miles,are the notes from me and Ganke not enough to cover it??” you ask him,still in disbelief. Since both of you are busy going in and out of the class for emergency moments,both of you mostly rely on notes to pass the exam,you mostly write your own notes but Miles always share Ganke’s notes with you.

Miles shake his head before leaning back on the chair “I don’t know (Y/n) clearly something is up and right now im in..shambles man. Nothing makes sense to me anymore,after wearing that mask everything is just on my shoulder”the boy is clearly burned out by all of his responsibilities..being a son,a student and a hero. He seems to think that everything and everyone relys on him while he can’t rely on anyone…but how wrong is he.

You shake your head slightly,moving near him as you lean on the chair looking down at him “Miles…youre not alone in this,I know that being a hero is such a big responsibility but…im here for you man”your eyes soften “You can rely on me anytime Miles…heck if you want I can do the patrol stuff for a week if you ask me to man” you let out a chuckle,this boy really have a soft spot on you.

Miles shake his head his face still frowning before he says “But you’re not her (Y/N), you’re...not Gwen”he look up at you.

You look at him…blink a few times letting his words sink in to you,you move yourself away from him,walking backwards before a soft chuckle escape your lips “are you for real Miles..? Gwen?”your brows frown mouth agape not believing what you just have heard..

Miles begin to talk again but you quickly cut him off “No man I heh…well she’s not here is she? Im here for you Miles,from the beginning to hear your problems a-and to cover your freaking ass everytime man..”your voice cracked as you try to talk out through the choking “im the one who is taking hits for you,the one who always have to sit there listening you calling for someone who is not here”you hiss out the word at him..tears building up making everything you see is blurry but you blink away the tears as much as you can..

“Youre not the only one who wears the mask Miles,but I put you above myself everytime so that I know you’re okay…but you’re here telling me that you want someone else to stand here….am I not enough for you Miles?”you point to yourself,your heart cracks at every sob that you try to surpress.

“(N/n) I..”Miles stand up trying to reach for your arm but you held out your hand stopping him. You rub your nose with your other hand letting out a sniff before your cracked voice speaks “No..no Miles..im just gonna go…tell your dad I said congrats”you said as you walk out of his room taking your hoodie that you put on the hanger walking out of the main door and close it.… you lean your back on the door as you finally let the tears running down your cheek…

To be continued.

(Woah what a chapter huh,part 3 soon..)

Tags:

@usernamepassowrd-blog @marimo331 @rinouko @chims-kookies

@rinisfruity14 @gasoline-eater @bath1lda @kiranishi @blep24

@dani111

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 6

2.7k | angst No matter how loyal, guard dogs still have their teeth (part 1) (part 7)

Simon’s steps to your door were heavy, as his heart had been since that call.

Despite his blazing wrath, he was unprepared for the waves of guilt that washed over, the shame that wrestled to drown him. He was unable to protect you from his past – he brought it upon you, even after how much too sweet you’d been, how softly you’d touched him. How could he ever look you in the eye again?

The stray never deserved any of that.

When you gave him a squeeze at the door, he didn’t return it. Still, you tugged him in with the same lovely smile, even when it wasn’t as wide.

“Fancy a cuppa?”

“No.”

Your pretty hand shouldn’t be in his filthy one. Do you even know what I do with these hands?

You sat at the dining table and Simon remained on his feet to your side, eyes fixed on the cup of pu erh before you. His fists clenched and released. You didn’t like pu erh.

At the end of the day, he was still a reaper in dress uniform - one with an unrelenting demon that lurked in the far corner. He could have fucked him up that evening at the bakery. Feel his nose crumble against his knuckles, maybe even the snap of his scrawny neck in his hands.

But no, this happened because he didn't. Like his mum said, you were good for him, of course you were. But was he for you? He was nothing but trouble.

You smiled up at him. Always so sincere, so delicate, making his stomach twist more.

“My dad’s visiting this weekend. I was wondering if you wanted to meet him? And… Um, what I should introduce you-“

Not addicted, he'd tell himself too many times, as if it didn’t sound like a bloody lie to his own ears. You were the beginning of an incurable addiction, a cliff with the bewitching view he was a step away from falling off of.

His gaze left you. “I’m going back home with my mum tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you said, your disappointment evident. “Okay, maybe next time then.”

His heart pounded in his ears as he forced the words out, nails digging into his palms. “We should stop this.”

“What… What are you saying, Simon?”

“This. Meeting you, staying over. I’ll have less time when I become captain. This isn’t going to end well,” he reasoned, but it sounded more like he was convincing himself this was the right thing.

He knew it was, even when it didn’t feel like it, like a lot of things in life. He knew one day he’d be glad he did this. One day, even when right then it felt like the worst thing he could be doing. Would someone, something, rip this decision away from his hands?

“You don't get to say that yet, not right now. I know you're going through a lot.” You reached for his hand. “But we can wait until things settle and we’ll talk-“

He pulled away from your touch. “I've made up my mind. I never meant for things to get this far.”

In the still room, his stare remained on the cup you hadn’t touched since his arrival.

“You knew this all along and you still let it happen,” you said as realisation dawned.

He looked up to meet your hardened gaze. He’d seen you sad, annoyed, angry, but this was the first time your eyes were devoid of warmth. Being the receiving end of that stare was a stab to his chest.

“I should believe people when they show me who they are.” You chuckled humourlessly. “Get out, Simon.”

The world slowed. It was hard to draw his breath as he remained unmoving, like he was chained to the floor of where his sanctuary once was. Despite the arms that ached to wrap around you and never let go, he forced himself to walk away as his blood ran cold.

The door slammed behind him. He didn’t expect a positive response, of course, but it was definitely not the shatter of his own heart.

Still, it didn’t hurt as much as it would have had he waited until you inevitably left him for one reason or another. At least he’d never have to worry about being like his dad, about hurting you, betraying you, if you weren’t there to begin with. Like he’d always known, you deserved better, someone as lovely as you – unlike this stray who would never be enough.

It’s the right thing.

He could give his mum his undivided attention now. She would never leave nor kick him out the door. If he was not wanted, he had to be endlessly needed, used dry until he was nothing but a ghost.

“Who the fuck broke my bloody door!”

Simon and his mum had been waiting for his dad’s return to the house that had turned into a complete mess. Meanwhile, she’d packed as much of her belongings as she could, her luggage in the living room.

“Sign the bloody papers before I make sure you never can anymore,” Simon barked, standing tall next to his sitting mum.

His dad rounded the corner and Simon’s jaw ticked thinking of what he did to you. He let out a weak sigh at the sight of his wife and son at the dining table, a sight he hadn’t seen in over a decade. His eyes softened.

“I don’t want anything from you, James. Please sign them and we’ll be out of here.”

He pulled out the chair across the table and propped his elbows up, face in his hands as he took a deep breath.

“I need to apologise, Melanie,” he began. “I’ve made your life hell, and I know there’s nothing I can do to change that now. I was my fault.”

“She didn’t ask,” Simon said through gritted teeth. He shoved the papers closer when he ached to break the filthy table with his dad’s skull.

“I’m sorry about your last night here. It was unforgiveable, what I did.”

Simon slammed his fist onto the table. He had watched the grand performance too many times. “You’re not fooling anybody with your tricks. Sign the bloody papers. I swear this is the last time I’m asking.”

His mum patted his hand, and he reluctantly took the seat next to her.

“I want you to have the house, Mel. You’ve always kept it too beautiful for a man like me. It’s the least I can give you after everything.” He let out a steady breath, flipping open the document. “I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me for how much I’ve hurt you,” he added quietly.

Was that remorse that settled in his hollow eyes?

His mum bit her lip as a tear slipped. When Simon wrapped an arm around her, she sobbed into his chest.

No words were exchanged as his dad went through the papers, and it remained so until Simon wheeled his mum’s luggage out the door behind her.

“Goodbye, James.” She didn’t spare him another look.

“Simon?” he called in a small voice. “I’m sorry I’m not the father you deserve.”

The lieutenant threw the door shut.

Simon spent the next few days with his mum, Tommy, his wife and son. Since his last visit, Tommy’s got a new job and seemed to be spoiling his son rotten with plenty of new toys, including the shiny red bike outside. Unfortunately, even after over a year, he and Beth still hadn’t had much luck trying for a second child.

Joseph was a brilliant kid with a toothy smile, just like Tommy was, and it always surprised Simon how big his nephew got between each visit. It was a shame he only got to meet his family twice or thrice each year.

“Joe, you’ve been sitting on your uncle’s shoulders all day,” Beth said with an amused smile. “Give him a break.”

“It’s the best seat ever!” His little arms wrapped tighter around Simon’s head, eyes glued onto the cartoon on the telly.

“You need to do your homework.”

“I’ll do it here.” He poked the top of Simon’s head.

He laughed. “I don’t mind.”

She shook her head. “Come on now. Dinner will be ready in an hour. You don’t want to be late.”

“Okay…” he huffed before dragging his feet to his room.

While he flicked through the channels,  Beth went back to the kitchen where his mum was. He wasn’t one to watch the telly apart from football, but his thumb hovered over the button when the Great British Bake Off came on.

He remembered the episode. He’d watched it with you, the only person he ever watched the show with. It was yours, like a secret only the both of you knew.

It’s the right thing.

Faintly, his mum chuckled at something her daughter-in-law said, and his mind couldn’t help but drift to all the times it was you and her in his flat instead. Sharing stories, laughing, while he smiled at the sight from afar.

It’s the right thing, Riley, I promise.

He turned the telly off and went for a walk instead.

At dinner, the table admired little Joe’s drawings he’d done at school – he always saved them for when his daddy came home. With his precious family beaming, it seemed like the life Simon should have had, the one he always imagined was supposed to be like. But even without the devil trailing behind like an ellipsis, this, somehow, didn’t feel right either.

Despite his smile, his chest was heavy with the rotting carcass of the heart he didn't know he still had until weeks ago.

It’s the right thing, it’s the right thing, it’s the right thing.

Later that night, Simon’s head tilted when he entered the guestroom his mum occupied.

“Have you not packed yet? We’re leaving tomorrow. I’ve still got training on Monday.”

On the bed, she lowered her book and frowned. “I’m not leaving. Manchester is my home, Si.”

“Home is where you’re safe, mum, and you’re not here.”

She sighed, the sympathetic kind, before putting her book away. “My well-being and happiness aren’t your responsibility.”

He scoffed. “‘course they are.”

“I can’t thank you enough for thinking about me, but what’s happened, happened. I’m trying to start over, and that includes not being a baggage to you.”

He blinked. “Mum, what are you on about?” he asked carefully as he sat next to her.

“You need to live your life. You push good things away, Si.”

What… “I don’t. You’re all I’ve got.”

“Always so stubborn.” She shook her head. “Don’t make the same mistake I did, Si. My first love… Your granddad didn’t want us together, and I ended up with your dad. I grew to love him, but it wasn’t what I wanted. I chose easy over real. Sometimes I wonder if I’d been less afraid, what life would be like now.

“I'm by no means regretful, because I got to have my two perfect sons, but you had to pay for my mistakes too, and for that I’m yet to forgive myself. I’m supposed to give you a good life, but I didn't. The least I can do now is not hold you back.

Her hands clasped over his. “So live for me, Si. Don't worry about me. Wherever you go, whatever you do, I will always be your mum. I can’t stop loving you even if I tried. I just need to see you happy, that’s all I need from you.”

His gaze dropped to the ground. “I’m not good enough for her,” he muttered.

“That’s not for you to decide.”

“Isn't it too late?”

“Never.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“You make it sound harder than it is.” She cupped his cheek. “It won’t be painless, but if she’s the one, it will be worth it.”

Against his mum’s shoulder, he wished his tears would stop flowing, but with the way she rubbed his back, Simon was once more just a little blond boy with the scraped knee.

From the front porch in the chill night, it was shameless how he called you at that hour, when he didn’t even say goodbye when he left. It was shameless how even after you rejected his calls, he still called for the 5th time, or 10th – he’d lost count. But at last, the line connected.

“Luv,” he said breathlessly, palm pressing against his eyes that had barely dried.

“Please stop calling me.”

“No, wait. Please, listen. Don’t-”

“You’ve made up your mind. Begging only reduces me to nothing, so I didn’t try to change it. I owe you nothing, Simon.”

And the line clicked off.

Still sat on the steps, he blinked at the phone in his hand, deciding if he was going to worsen the situation if he called again. It was shameless that he did anyway, but it went straight to voicemail.

Simon might not have had plenty of dating experience, it was shameless really, but he knew he still had a chance if you were mad.

You’d listen when he showed up at your door, still hauling his backpack.

“Luv, please. Please, listen.”

He thought his heart was about to explode when your footsteps approached. The door opened halfway.

“Hi,” you said, not meeting his eyes.

His breath hitched, and he was near to tears. Despite his resolve, he couldn’t get the words out.

“I've thought about it. You're right. I thought I knew what I was getting into, but it was always so hard to see you leave, and I realised it’s only going to get harder.”

No, no, no...

“Thank you for being honest and saving us from further heartache. I know I didn’t have to block you, but I hope you understand my decision to not be in contact anymore.”

“Luv, no. I wanted- I want to try. I don’t care how hard it gets.“

“I care. I want stability, maybe even a family, and I see now we’re not heading in the same direction.” You looked up at him with glassy eyes and a pained smile. “I wish you all the wonderful things, Simon. Truly, I'm so thankful I got to know you.”

He barely made out the words tumbling out of your lips, wishing he was hallucinating.

“Goodnight, Simon,” you whispered as you closed the door.

Even then, you didn’t give him a foul look for his audacity to show his face after biting the hand that fed him. It was the last time you were going to see him, why did you still have to treat him with respect?

He wished you’d have said something mean, even sick. You should have called him names, tell him he was the most ungrateful man there was, that he was just like his dad, so he had something to hate, so the fire could flare up high once more and he’d be safe behind it like he always was.

But it was you. You could stab him in the chest, and he wasn’t sure it would have been enough to hate you. To overwrite how wonderful you’d been to the wounded stray.

His gaze cast down, unmoving at your door. He did this to himself. It was his fault for dropping his cold stare, for smiling, for looking when you weren’t, cracking his jokes, touching your hand and kissing you, for lying down and baring his belly. It wasn’t your fault you didn’t want him anymore after what he’d done.

If he closed his eyes, he could still see the vivid curve of your lips, your soft laugh, the caress of your fingers. The ache for you morphed into an itch that made him want to claw at his skin, to replace the sweetness with bright, searing pain.

Would you please do the humane thing and shoot him so he didn’t have to drown in the storm that brewed in him?

It was for the best, he told himself. It was what he wanted after all, to keep his problems away from you, to keep you happy, even when he wasn’t in the picture. Leaving you was his repayment for being a thankless beast.

“Just because I go, doesn’t mean my heart follows,” he whispered.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @eve-lie @lyenera @luvecarson @jaguarthecat @knight4xmas @unwrittenletter @mxtokko @reaperxxxxzz @footyandformula @opalesquegirl @audisive @sparrowgalaxy @fanficreblogs @strawberrystargal @damalseer @onlineoutcast

[issdisgrace]

Look what can be requested and I am so excited! It can be one of Ghost being married and after a long time finally 141 meets her husband who is someone so nice, kind and cute to everyone, attractive and a bar owner, he could meet 141 when they go to a nice restobar and boom! they see Ghost's handsome husband.

THE BAR​

WARNINGS: Nothing really other than Ghost threatening Soap​

A/N: I’m gonna to make a part 2 of this later on fyi​

We got back to base the other day and tonight Price decided to take us out for drinks, said he knew a great place nearby. Needing a drink, I decide to go on with this little adventure and in the end we ended up at a bar that is all too familiar to me. It was my husband Y/n’s bar, the one that he took so much pride and joy in. The sight of it made me feel warm inside knowing that he would be in there tending bar like normal. But it also made me worried the guys didn’t know about Y/n. I made sure of that, but now there was no way to get out of this situation. They were going to find out tonight.

Entering the bar, there were few people scattered about, typical for a Tuesday night. Y/n like I expected was behind the bar tending to the people that were sitting at it. His motions were elegant and fluid, making him look angelic. Angelic, angelic was a good word for him. He looked like he was ripped from a fashion magazine and realistically Y/n could have anyone. But he wants me and that makes me feel good like really however I digress.

We made our way to a table towards the back near the restrooms. My back was to the bar as we all sat and figured who was paying for what round. We came to an agreement and settled on Price, Soap, Gaz, and then me. Right before Price could ask us what we wanted I felt arms wrap around my waist and a kiss on my cheek. The look of utter shock written on others’ faces was comical. Already knowing who it was I leaned back into his chest welcoming his familiar warmth.

“Want your normal darling.”

“Yes.”

“Alright, I’ll get that for you right away and the drinks are on the house for your friends.”

“Thank you, love.”

“No problem.” He says before giving me another kiss on the cheek before leaving. Looking back at the guys, they are still in shock. It’s like that for a minute or two before Soap says,

“What the fuck just happened? Who the fuck was that?”

“He’s my husband Y/n.”

“HUSBAND?” They all questioned.

“Yes, husband. We’ve been married for 4 years so far, but we’ve been together for 8 years.”

“9 years coming up in 1 month, 3 weeks, and 5 days.” Y/n says, coming up behind me, setting my drink down in front of me and giving me a kiss on the cheek. I smile at that. He has always kept track of any anniversaries or birthdays. I suspect he keeps track to the hours, minutes, and seconds, but I’ve never asked.

“Oh right, how rude of me I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Y/n, I’m Simon’s husband and you guys must be Price, Soap, and Gaz. It’s nice to meet you guys. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“The Lt. talks about us?”

“Yes, He’s told me quite a lot.”

“Aww, that’s sweet Lt. You do love us.”

“Fuck off Johnny.”

“You love me Lt.”

“No I don’t. I only love Y/n.”

“That’s cute.” Gaz says.

“Sickly cute.” Soap adds.

“Leave Simon alone you two. He’ll give you hell tomorrow.”

“Alright Captain.” The two say in unison. Prices are right. If they keep it up, I’ll make tomorrow's training a living hell for them. Before I voice my agreement to Price Y/n chimes in,

“As much of a pleasure it is to meet all you guys I still unfortunately have a bar to run. So what will you guys be drinking tonight?” They team orders and Y/n gives me a quick kiss before heading back to the bar to make their drinks.

“So Lt. How did you manage to bag such a hotty?”

With all seriousness I say, “If you so much as look at him in any way other than in a friend type of way I will gouge your eyes out and feed them to you.”

I see horror flash in his eyes before he says,

“Alright, alright Lt. No need to get violent. I’ll behave scouts honor.” He holds up the boy scout hand sign.

“You’ve never been a boy scout Soap. I don’t think they would’ve even let you be one.” Gaz says.

“Rude, I would be a great boy scout. “

Price lets out a chuckle at the two, shaking his head. I join him and just shake my head. I can tell this is going to be long night.

[granddaughterogg]

So, you're the newest addition to Task Force 141 and you Make a Move on one of the boys. How will they react?

Johnny Soap MacTavish: With utter glee. "Took ya long enough, lass! Thought you'll never shoot your shot!" He'll announce with amusement. Our perky Scotsman is an absolute Sexpot - and he knows it. He is also a master of Living in the Moment aka Seizing the Day. Rules and regulations be damned. "So what do you say?" He'll ask, filling your personal space with all that muscle and clasping those strong hands around your waist. "Wanna go on a date first…" Johnny wiggles his painterly eyebrows. "...Or shall we skip to the good part?"

Ghost: When you confessed that you'd like to spend some time with him in private, he didn't seem thrilled. As is usual case with Ghost, he didn't seem like caring one way or another. All you got in the way of a reaction was his hand, holding the cigarette and now stilled halfway to his mouth. He threw you one of his Stares - Simon Riley's eyes are as beautiful as they are cryptic, you've never been able to read those dark peepers surrounded by white, seemingly frosted eyelashes of dizzying length. Then he muttered something under his breath and walked away. You didn't hear a word from him for the next three days, apart from work orders anyway. Disappointment and embarrassment tormented you in turns. You were silently cursing your big, reckless mouth. On the fourth day he approached you as if nothing had ever happened and said: "Allright". "Allright what, Sir?.." You asked, dumbfounded. "I agree. We should fuck."

Gaz: Oh, this beautiful boy. Out of the whole squad he's probably the one best adapted to Living in a Society. He reacts as any sensible man would: with a charming smile, a proud, joyful gleam in his eye, a trace of a blush almost. "Gosh, Private, really…Me? Well, girl, you got outstanding taste." "Don't I know it," you answer boldly. "Look, babe," he says in a hushed voice, coming closer and putting his hands on your shoulders, "Cap will rip my head off and piss in my neck if he finds out that I'm fooling around with a subordinate...so we're gonna have to be extra careful, 'kay? Can you promise me that?" You nod enthusiastically. This is so exciting!

Captain Price: So you like to live dangerously. There is no safe way that you can Put the Moves on your commander. You know that...right? On the other hand - if you're gonna break the rules, break them hard and break them for good. Tell him that you desire him. That you can't stop thinking about him. Pick a moment when the rest of the guys won't be within a kilometer radius. Say your line and look into those hard, cloudy sky-coloured eyes which have just grown big and round with shock. "Kid," says Price, his voice suddenly a little breathy, which is oh so hot: "Are you out of your goddamn mind?" "Only for you, Sir." Flutter those eyelashes. Come on, lay it on thick. It's been some time since anyone has thrown themselves at the old man. He will sigh the mother of all sighs, then drag one hand across his tired face. "I am you commanding officer." "That you are, Sir." He will come closer, both hands behind his back. Then he'll reach out and gently, oh, so gently touch your cheekbone. "You do realize tha' I could tell you to pack up and send your arse home?" His voice is very meticulously level, but you can feel the volcano bubbling underneath. "I do, Sir. But I just couldn't live a lie. I want you." That boldness will earn you another sigh - this time more ragged. He'll trace his finger over your upper lip, say: "Well fuck me sideways..." like a man who has just experienced a miracle - and then John Price will embrace you in a kiss, shameless, deep and hungry.

This man has been criminally touch starved. Congratulations, you'll have your hands full from now on. Not to mention your…other regions.

[yeeterthek33per]

Taken (Steph Catley x Reader)

A/n requested, hope y'all enjoy. 18+ Minors DNI. Smooty warning. As usual, the star marks the safe limit.

"Steph, come on, we're gonna be late for YOUR team's party if you don't hurry up."

The defender had spent the better part of an hour in the bathroom, and now you were both running late to a party that Steph had asked you to come to.

She knew she was gonna cop it from you and her own teammates if she didn't hoof it, but she had to look good. Especially if she was walking in beside you.

Hence why she was wearing a sleeveless button-up blouse and jean shorts. Something that would definitely show off muscles to compliment your own.

When she steps out of the bathroom, her point is only proven.

She grins, looking you up and down, and you blush slightly under her gaze and roll your eyes at her antics.

You're wearing black denim jeans, a yellow crop top that leaves your stomach exposed, and a black leather jacket over your shoulder.

"Come on, we have to go. I'm meeting your other teammates for the first time, I do not want to be late."

At this point, the pair of you had been together for about seven months, having moved in without much communication to her team aside from Caitlin, who you'd spent time with together on several occasions.

So it took until now for you to actually be able to meet them in person.

You both head out to the car, grabbing your keys along the way. Steph is quick to open your door for you before jumping in the drivers side.

"Ever the gentlewoman." You give her a teasing smirk, and she smiles, pecking you on the lips before starting the car and backing out of the driveway, her hand resting on your thigh for most of the drive.

The moment you walk in, there's cheering from the girls as Steph finally makes an appearance.

"Ayyy Stephyyy, she's in finally, and who's this with her?" It's Katie who yells out first.

"Yeah, Stephy, who's this? She's looking fiiine!" That earns Stina a glare from the defender and a chuckle from you.

"Oooh, Stephy brought the girlfriend, be nice guys, she's a keeper!" It's Caitlin that has you blushing a little behind Steph.

"Girlfriend?!"

"Stephy, when did this happen?"

And various other shouts are accompanying them all at once.

Steph just laughs, shaking her head.

"Alright, alright, alright. Everyone, this is Y/n, we've been together seven months. Play nice, nobody scare her away."

You chuckle softly at the brunette leaving a kiss on her cheek as you're quickly dragged away by Beth and Katie.

Caitlin slaps an arm around Steph and drags her over to sit with Viv, Manu, Frida, and Lia. Much to Steph's protests at being separated from you.

In the kitchen, you're being bombarded with questions from Katie. Occasionally, Beth intervenes and tells her to calm a bit before handing you a drink.

You're definitely a little nervous, but once the alcohol is flowing through you, Katie's not so intimidating anymore.

You spend some time just downing drinks as a mini contest with the irish girl, and you can tell straight away that the alcohol you're both consuming is probably not a healthy amount.

About two hours later, the three of you have been laughing at stories you've been sharing, and at one point, there's tears leaking from your eyes, you're laughing so hard.

There's a knock at the door about twenty minutes after that, and Katie is suddenly dragging you to the door with her, practically jumping with excitement.

"Ooh, ooh, I know who that is. It's Leah, you're gonna love her, she's a party girl like me. Blonde and tall and definitely a terrifying captain when she wants, but absolutely let's it rip at parties."

Something clicks in your head, and you go to respond before she rips open the door.

"Oh I know Leah, she's-"

"Leaaaahhh! You made it finally! My god woman, you gotta start getting here earlier. You missed all the fun with -"

Leah grins at you, a cheeky but confused smile on her face when she spots your slightly tipsy self standing at the door.

"Y/n? Oh, I know you've been having a good time then, Katie. This one will drink you under the table."

"You know each other?"

Leah gives you a cheeky wink.

"You could say that."

"Also, wait, there's no way she could outdrink me, I'm Irish."

"Katie, I love you, but she could end your liver if you tried that."

"Meh, I do that on my own accord."

Steph spots Leah walking in with you from the entryway, the music a little loud to hear what you're conversing about but she watches as the blonde puts an immediate arm around your shoulder and kisses your cheek as you grin and pat her face before heading to the kitchen again with Beth.

She feels a wave of heat course through her chest. Why were you so suddenly touchy-feely with her teammates? Why Leah in particular?

She pushed it down, rubbing it off as you were just friendly with the blonde and a little tipsy, if anything. She knows you'd never cheat on her.

Throughout the night, she watches you joke and muck around with the three girls. Occasionally, you converse with a couple of the others. But she focuses on the comfortability you suddenly have around the Arsenal captain.

She tries her hardest to push down any lingering jealousy, focusing on her conversation with Lia instead.

"And so she was talking to me like I knew her. So, the poor thing, I had to stop her and ask, and I just felt so embarrassed."

-------

"Are you kidding me? She just freaking flopped like that?" You giggle, nodding at Katie as Leah huffs lightly, poking you in the ribs.

"You missy, need to stop telling everyone that, who brought you here anyway?"

"Oh, that's another thing I haven't gotten around to telling you yet."

Leah raises a brow at you questioningly. A playful look of hurt crosses her features.

"What haven't you been telling me?"

" I know you've been busy with your injury, and I didn't wanna dump it on you suddenly. But I kind of maybe am possibly dating one of your teammates..?"

Leah raises both brows now.

"Sorry, what? When did that happen? I know I was injured, but jeez, sis, why not tell me sooner? Who is it? I want to know."

"What so you can fight them? Hell no."

"Noooo, me fight them? Neverrrr."

She leaves a sloppy kiss on your cheek, and you shove her lightly.

Steph watches this happen from the couch, and she has to bite back a growl coming from her throat.

Caitlin can see the look on her friend's face and has to hide a knowing smirk. Steph was pretty good with you, but possessive was a trait she picked up quickly, especially with you.

You were kind of oblivious to it, though, making the hilarity of the situation that much better.

Steph can see you laughing with the blonde, and she spots you leaning on the taller girl's shoulder.

It's about five minutes of that before she snaps.

She watches you kiss Leah on the cheek and give her a wink.

That's the last straw for Steph in the other room. She couldn't watch handsy mccaptain continue, and you clearly weren't even fighting it. The fact that you were participating was worse. What is going on with you?

She grabs you by the hand to drag you outside. Leaving behind a bewildered Leah, a hysterically laughing Katie and a knowingly smirking Beth and Caitlin.

Leah just turns to the others.

"I-what? Is it Steph?"

Beth just nods with a small "I probably wouldn't go and ask them now though."

-------

Back in the car, you're completely bewildered by Steph and her actions.

She looks absolutely mad, and she won't look at you. You barely got a "We're heading home early, I need to do something" out of her before you were both in the car headed back to your shared home.

"Seriously babe, what is going on with you?"

The alcohol running through your system is starting to fade off a bit.

"I could ask you the same thing."

Just as you go to reply to that. The car turns into the driveway, and she's out of the car, waiting for you to join her. Her arms over her chest, waiting impatiently.

You're completely and utterly confused by that.

You get out of the car, and you walk up to the door while Steph unlocks it, and the moment it's open, you're dragged inside and pressed harshly into the wood of the inside of it.

It makes you gasp, and Steph is pressed entirely to you, hand grasping your hip and the other in your hair.

Her lips meet yours hard, practically knocking the air from your lungs, and you can taste the strawberry daiquiri she'd been drinking just ten minutes earlier.

The kiss is rough and feverish, and it makes you dizzy and dazes you enough to momentarily forget the whole thing that just happened.

Her teeth tug at your lower lip, and she tugs st the collar of your jacket, pushing you into the wall perpendicular to the door.

Your chest heaves when she pulls away, trying to suck back in air as she kisses and nips her way down your neck, pushing your jacket off your shoulders.

"Baby, I-"

"Shut up."

*It makes you moan softly. You love it when Steph is this demanding and rough with you, and you're practically keening every time she tugs on your hair, holding your head back against the wall.

She pulls away just enough to whisper in your ear.

"Not a word out of you except 'Yes' 'No' 'please" and 'thank you' and anything otherwise I ask. Got it?"

"Yes"

"Yes, what?"

It sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to bite your tongue to not immediately moan at the sentence.

You'd both discussed this one for a while, but it never came into any situations til now.

"Yes, ma'am."

You can see the way her pupils dilate, and her breath catches in her throat.

"Good girl."

You preen under the praise, and your hands are trying to pull her closer to you. She doesn't budge, though, and instead, she lets go of your hair to pin your hands to the wall.

Her lips meet yours again feverantly, and she begins to tug at your crop top before her hand slips under it to grab at your breast and you arch softly under her touch.

You kick your shoes off intermittently, and she does the same.

At that, her leg slips between yours, pressing right into you, and you grind down on her with a whimper.

She whispers against your lips.

"So needy baby girl. Go ahead, try and get off like that."

If it weren't for the fact that your eyes were squeezed shut, they'd probably roll into the back of your head.

You roll your hips against her thigh, moving with a heavy amount of desparation and need. It just isn't enough contact, though, and you quickly find yourself whining in frustration, leaving Steph smirking as she watches you try to cum from grinding on her. Her hands release yours, and she grabs you by the jaw, walking you away from the wall and down the hall to your shared bedroom.

She presses you back into the wall again. Murmuring a "keep going."

Try as you might. You just aren't getting anywhere, and you're just about sobbing in pent-up frustration.

That's when she decides to have a little mercy on you and quickly relieves you of your crop top and flicks at the button on your jeans to open it.

You're pushed back onto the bed with a small thud, and Steph tugs at your pants to pull them off you.

Your breathing is completely ragged now, and the look in your girlfriend's eyes has you whining as she watches you writhe beneath her when she kneels either side of your right leg.

She quickly pins you again, this time she holds for second.

"Keep your hands there sweet girl. You move them and we stop, you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am. "

You do as you're told and keep your hands latched onto the bedding above your head.

She sucks a few marks into your collar before kissing her way down to your nipple as her hands slip down between the two of you.

She grasps your thighs to spread them a little, where she looks up to watch your face as you clench your jaw.

She moves one of her hands to dip beneath the edge of your underwear, and she pulls back from you to watch as she pulls the dampened fabric from you.

Her eyes darken, and she growls a little, noticing the underwear you're wearing. Red lace.

"Were you expecting this baby girl? So desperate for me to fuck you, so needy huh? So fucking needy for me."

All you can do is whimper below her, squeezing your eyes shut once again. Holding your tongue so as not to beg her to fuck you, which would be out of line.

She can immediately tell, though, and she grins darkly.

"C'mon baby girl, tell me to fuck you, tell me how needy you were for me. How needy were you, tell me how you're such a brat as to test me like that so I could fuck this needy little pussy."

The words barely register in your brain before you're answering.

"So needy, please I need you to fuck me, fuck me til I can't remember my own name, only yours. I was such a brat. Only for you ma'am."

The words are out, and it only spurs the brunette on. She growls and finally pulls your underwear off you, leaving you bare to the cool night. You whimper, lifting your hips to meet her hand as she grazes her finger gently over your slit.

You're completely wet, and it makes her groan seeing you completely at her mercy. Her fingertips dip between your lips finally, stroking your clit and applying just enough pressure to dip inside you and back out again.

"Such a good girl for me now, aren't you?"

You moan out but when you don't say anything, you yelp at the slight spank she leaves on your thigh.

"Answer me."

"Yes."

Another spank makes you jump.

"Yes, ma'am!" It's basically a cry out, and you're thankful your neighbours house is more than two kilometres from your doorstep.

"Good girl."

Steph bends down to kiss down your chest and stomach, one particularly harsh bite has you gasping and you nearly move your hand to grasp her hair but you stop yourself.

Her mouth moves lower to your hip bown, tongue dancing into the groove where your leg meets your body and then across to just above your clit.

You have to clamp your jaw shut to avoid demanding her to move, do anything.

"I want you to scream nothing but my name and please, baby girl. My mouth is gonna be a little occupied so I want you nice and loud for me."

You moan at that.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good."

And with that, she swipes her tongue over your clit and shifts so her hands hold your legs open for her.

"Fuck, Steph!" She smirks against you, her tongue delving right into you, taking you in and sucking up your wetness, your taste exploding on her tongue.

Her lips wrap around your clit sucking it harshly and at the same time, she pushes two fingers into your entrance, setting a harsh pace, pressing right in your g spot with a curl making you see stars.

You cry out as she completely devours you. Her left hand moves to urge your legs up and over shoulders, your right staying put to allow her space to move, but a nudge from her elbow has it following the other leg.

Your thighs clench around her head, and when you start to shake around her, she doubles down. Your orgasm hits you hard and fast, and your moans echo around the room.

Knowing Steph's stamina, this would be a first of many for you. As you come down from that high, she nudges you further back onto the bed.

"So good for me, baby girl." It's said in a breathless whisper, and when she kisses you, you can taste yourself on her tongue.

"You can move your hands, baby."

With that, your hands are instantly on her. Running up under her shirt to feel the skin of her back before moving them to wait at the buttons of it.

She hums in thought for a second before urging you on.

"Go ahead."

She sits back on her haunches as you pull the buttons open one by one, enjoying the feeling of you stripping her.

She shrugs the shirt off, tossing it to only god knows where in the room. From there, you tug open the buttom on her jean shorts and unzip them. She stands off the bed to kick them off.

The dark red lace makes your mouth water a little, and as she crawls back onto the bed, your hands find the front clasp of the bra. You wait for permission, and she raises a brow, looking down at you from her position, kneeling, straddling your thighs.

"What do you say princess?"

"Can I please take these off you?"

She taps her chin for a second.

"Hm, I think you can try better than that baby girl."

"Ma'am, may I please take these off you? I've been such a good girl for you, please can I take them off?"

She leans down to peck your lips.

"Much better princess. Go on then. Take them off."

You don't wait for much else. You unclip the bra, and she slowly lets it fall from her shoulders to her hands before tossing it.

She watches as your pupils darken and you have to resist the urge to grab her straight away. Instead, she goes back to standing, and you follow.

Tugging at the elastic waistband of the panties, you slip them down her legs, and she steps out of them.

A whine gets caught in your throat at the sight, and you look up at Steph with pleading eyes.

She chuckles and runs her fingers through your thoroughly tousled hair. Her other hand cups your cheek, her thumb running over your bottom lip, pulling at it slightly.

She lets it dip between your teeth, and you do as silently instructed and suck it gently, letting it press into your tongue as you hollow your cheeks.

Steph groans and then pushes you back onto the mattress and moves to sit on your stomach. Your hands settle on her hips, and she looks down at you with a dangerous look in her eyes.

"You want to touch me?"

Instantly.

"Yes Ma'am."

"How bad?"

"God so bad, please."

She chuckles darkly and shuffles a little further up your chest.

"How about taste me?"

"Fuck, please, I want to taste you, please let me feel you."

"Good girl." It's a little more breathy, and she moves to hover over your head. You know better than to move without permission, though.

"Well? You want to taste, huh? Taste how wet I am for you. Do it."

That's all the permission you need, and you tug her down to sit on your face. Tongue lapping at her almost immediately, a breathy groan leaves you as you finally get a taste of her sweetness.

Fun fact: Did you know, the more upset a woman is, the sweeter she tastes when she orgasms?

Whatever had her upset earlier has her tasting like sweets to you to when she cums.

And that's exactly what you're gunning for as you fuck her with your tongue.

Her hips rock against you as she moans your name out into the cool air. Her hands are tugging your hair, and praises slip from her lips that only encourage you.

Her movements stutter, and she cries out, one hand steadying her on the bed, the other still clamped tight in your locks while you suck on her clit to bring her down.

Suddenly, it all clicks as her breathing slows to a calmer form. As she slips off your face. The memories of tonight set in over the top of the haziness and a smirk plays at your lips.

Her dragging you out directly after you kissed Leah on the cheek, her words about you intentionally testing her, being a brat, the immediate anger turning to heated passion as you get in the door.

It all makes sense now.

What Steph is not expecting to hear immediately after her orgasm is your soft voice in an almost cheeky tone whispering your safe word.

"Pudding."

Her head whips up at that.

"What's wrong? Shit, was I too rough? Was I-." She catches herself at the look on your face. There's a smirk there and a mischievous look in your eyes.

"Were you jealous?" The undertone of your accent makes her shiver.

"I- no! I was not jealous! You were the one testing boundaries. I mean, I wasn't- she was touchy and-"

You chuckle softly and sit up to grab her face and kiss her. She kisses back but is slightly confused when you pull back. It's a much softer but still mischievous look on your face.

"Baby, it's cute that you were, but you definitely shouldn't be jealous of Leah."

She frowns slightly, a round of protests ready to leave her lips, but you lift a finger to them. You urge her back until she's leaning against the headboard and you're in her lap.

"I'm serious, baby, don't be." And you lean down slowly to whisper in her ear. "Fun fact. Us Williamsons really differ in how we look, so it's kind of hard to tell that we're sisters."

At that, the words process and her eyes close as she lets her head thump against your chest, and you start giggling softly.

She feels the vibrations of you laughing, and she looks up at you again, her cheeks having completely gone just about as red as the uniform her and your sister share.

She whines at you.

"Seriously, baby, that's who your sister is? You couldn't have mentioned that earlier? That your sister is my captain? Oh god, I've completely gone and embarrassed myself in front of her, too."

You can only laugh harder, tears coming to the corner of your eyes as she facepalms.

You slow your laughs enough to run your fingers through her hair and console her, though less meaningful than she likes.

"It's okay baby, you didn’t know, and honestly, I would have told you sooner if it wasn't for the fact that she didn't even know you existed til now. Well, that you existed as my girlfriend."

Her face only heats up more, and she just completely melts against you. To the point where she's just completely non functioning as she processes your words over and over.

"Baby!"

Your laughter slows, and to your credit, you do whisper small apologies against her hair.

"So you're saying she never even knew we were dating before I went and dragged you from that party without a word to the other girls?"

"Welllll..."

"Baby, please, this can't get much worse, can it?"

You can't even keep a straight face at that.

"I'd only told her about me having a girlfriend on the team about five minutes before you grabbed me. I didn't actually tell her who it was."

"Oh my god, Y/n! For fucks sakes! Seriously?!"

"I mean, yeah?"

She huffs and pushes you back onto the bed with a small groan. She rubs at her face.

"Glad you're finding the whole thing funny, I don't think I can ever face her again!"

You give her a few minutes but shes still just sitting there with her head in her hands.

"You okay?" Its said in a half teasing tone and her answer comes back a resounding and muffled.

"No."

She drops her hands and tackles you back onto the mattress, and you squeal as she does so, and her hands pin your shoulders to the bed.

"You're so gonna pay for that."

"Oh yeah?"

"Most-fucken-definitely."

Her lips slam back onto yours, and your hands almost slip up to grab her hips, but her hands grab them, slamming them back onto the mattress again.

"Oh, you don't get to touch for the rest of the night, little brat. That privilege is gone now."

You whimper under her hard gaze. And as she sits up a little, she whispers a soft "Stay."

You nod, and she gets up to reach into the closet, pulling out one of your ties.

You gulp as she walks back towards you, swiftly climbing back onto the bed and telling you to go back up by the headboards. Her hands manoeuvre the tie around both of your wrists and tighten them, locking them in place against the headboard.

She then gets up to go digging through the closet again, pulling out a box you know thoroughly by now.

She pulls out another tie when you go to plead with her, telling her you'll be good, and she ties it around your head.

"Not another fucking word, brat."

It makes your head fuzzy, and everything goes back to being hazy again.

She pulls out a small bullet shaped object that you know well what she's going to do with. And then she pulls out the strap and a dildo you hadn't seen yet. It's red and sparkly and makes you shake a little.

"If you cum before I say you can, you won't cum for two months. Hear me?"

You nod slowly.

"Good."

The last time you'd disobeyed that, you were surpisingly proven wrong in thinking she would cave, but no, she edged you for a whole month.

You knew better than to try and finish yourself and risk getting caught because she would only add weeks on to the punishment. Touch starvation can be a cruel but effective persuasion.

Hell, Steph wouldn't kiss you during that first time you were punished unless you got on your knees and begged for it.

That was established on the first day the two of you had started experimenting with this.

The thought of having to do that again makes several shivers run through you.

"I say, we go for ten minutes, no cumming. If you can make it until then, I'll let you finish yourself off."

--------------

It's about four in the morning by the time your exhausted body is let down gently onto the mattress again. Steph is covered in a thin layer of sweat, and her hair is up but sticking to her forehead.

Her chest is heaving beside you. She'd taken the tie off you earlier to "Let you feel me fucking you. Mark me all you like baby girl, those hands dont leave me while I'm fucking that sweet little pussy."

The gag had come out much before then. For much more... visual purposes.

Your throat was sore and ran dry about thirty minutes ago. Your lips are swollen, and you're covered neck to knee in hickies.

Your ass cheeks were red raw and sore and your centre certainly felt thoroughly fucked through.

Steph's stamina never ceased to amaze you sometimes.

She tosses the strap into a corner off the room and takes very careful steps off the bed to go get water and a cloth, thoroughly pleased with herself at that.

She takes a drink and offers the bottle to you while she wipes you down.

You drink the remaining water in slow sips, watching through hooded but loving eyes as your girlfriend carefully cleans you up.

She walks to the laundry to dump the cloth and throws the bottle into the trashcan beside the bed. She goes to the bathroom to wipe herself down too and then staggers back to the bed and under the sheets, in beside you, thoroughly spent for the night.

You curl into her, letting her arm fall onto your waist, pulling you closer to her.

She kisses you softly. Gentler than she had been all night. Soft praises are muttered into the kiss. Followed by sweet nothings in your ear as you fall asleep on her chest.

Her lips press one final "I love you so fucking much, Baby girl." Into your skin as you drift off completely, letting the early morning hours take you into unconsciousness.

---------------

The next day at training is almost unbearable.

At least for Steph. You're back at home still under the covers, though now showered and in pyjamas while she's at the field, getting absolutely shredded by her teammates.

Leah isn't even doing anything. It's all Caitlin, Katie, Beth, and Lia ripping into her about the various marks on her neck and thighs and the slight limp in her run as she completes the various drills with them.

All the blonde captain does is watch on with an amused look on her face, even though Steph can't quite meet her eye the whole time.

Eventually, she does corner the brunette after training alone.

"Look, I'd give you the whole, 'hurt my sister, and I'll bury your corpse speech', but judging by the look on your face, you'd probably do that for me. I am just gonna say this, though. Might wanna consider using a better quality concealer than doesn't melt with sweat."

With that, the English captain gives the poor girl a cheeky wink and lets her go.

At least the captain knows her sister's taken now, though... right?

[soapybutt17]

Go Easy On Me

Summary:John Price was the most horrible and obnoxious man you had the misfortune of ever meeting in your life, but somehow that was what made you love the man too much for your own good sometimes.. Character: John Price x F!Reader (Call Sign "Sapde") Word Count: 1,663 Chapter Warnings: Mention of Near-Death Experience. Slight Angst. Mention of injuries Mention of Gunshot Wounds. Slight Angst. Happy End. Slight Fluff. Ideas:

Oh, by the way, don't be late for dinner

You're Important to me

You can't get rid of me that easily.

Masterlist | Request are Open || Join My Taglist || 500 Followers Celebration

You laid on the dirt-strewn floor of an abandoned factory, your cheek pressed against the cold concrete. The smell of rust and gunpowder filled the air and the hint of your own blood against your nostril. Each breath a struggle as the pain shot through your shoulder and stomach. You could hear the distant echoes of your team running towards the extraction point, their boots pounding against the ground, fading against the night. You had made sure they got out. That was the only thing keep you grounded in the pain you were feeling.

A dark pool spread beneath you, warm and thick. You tried to move your fingers, but even the simple motion sent a jagged spike of pain through you. You gritted your teeth, closing your eyes to the blinding flickering lights in the rafters above. There was a part of you that wished the gunfire had ended it quickly for you—like ripping off a Band-Aid. But no, it had to be this pathetic slow bleed out, the drawn-out finality on your situation.

Each shallow breath was a reminder of what you haven’t yet done. There were missions you’d planned, the threats you haven’t tracked down, the promises you’d made to your team. A future you might never see. It wasn’t supposed to end like this—not here, not now. You were the one who made the tough calls, who stood strong when others faltered. Now all you could do was listen to the distant sounds of combat and wait for the final moments to come.

Your vision blurred as you looked towards the door where your team had disappeared. You wondered if they made it. If they understood why you forced them to leave you behind. Would they see it as the ultimate act of sacrifice, or would they ever feel guilty for abandoning you? You hoped for the former. It had to be. You couldn’t let your last act be something that haunted any of them.

A faint smile tugged at your lips, the best you could manage. In the midst of the searing pain, there was a flicker of pride—the pride in your team, pride in your career. You led them through impossible situations, inspired them to be their very best. They’d remember you for that, right?

The light overhead flickered again, the bulb straining to stay lit. Your eyes grew heavier, your breathing more labored. Your fingers curled into the concrete, desperate to hold on, to fight back against the inevitable darkness. But the world was slowly slipping away, the sound growing softer, the pain dulling to a numbing ache.

In your final moments, you found yourself thinking about the people you’d never get to see again, the friends and family you’d leave behind. The annoying Co-captain you were forced to work with for this mission was also someone you knew you would miss. Try as you might, you grew found of the man even as he tried his best to get on your nerves every chance he got. The things you’d wanted to say to him but never did. Regret mingled with acceptance as your body grew colder, the life draining from you with each passing second.

The door creaked open, and a faint light spilled into the room. Your eyes fluttered open one last time, your gaze drifting towards the familiar silhouette in the doorway. Price.

“John.” You whispered.

“There you are, Darling.” He began approaching you. His hand holding onto the wound in your stomach, stopping from the blood seeping out. “Let’s get you patch up.”

He tried to maneuver you even with every movement you made was painful all over again. It ended with you being carried Bridal style in his arms.

“Why did you come back?” You questioned him, with him now in your presence, you tried your best to keep your eyes open. You looked at the man, the man that radiated confidence and often times, arrogance. But you saw none of it from where you laid in his arms.

You saw fear and worry.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He answered walking a bit faster knowing the urgency of your injuries. “You’re important to me and I would never allow anything to happen to you.”

At those words, the full meaning of his words you found yourself drowning into the darkness as the images of a life you can still have was now filled with waking up in the arms of the man you had thought was worse human being you had the misfortune of ever meeting in your life.

Your consciousness was in and out, glimpses of screaming and crying was ingrained in your unconscious state. Some were from your team, some were from the Captain but the next thing you heard was the rhythm of your breaths. Slow and shallow. The beeping of medical equipment became more consistent as you regained your sense of self, your awareness fighting against the haze of painkillers and the show from your injuries. You felt like you were underwater, everything blurred and muted.

The first thing you noticed was the sterile smell of the hospital room and the warmth of a soft blanket draped over you. You slowly blinked your eyes open, your gaze focusing on the ceiling’s bland whiteness. Your shoulders throbbed with dull pain, your stomach ached, but you were alive. The realization was both a relief and a shock, your memory flashing back to the gunfight, the blood, the desperate choice to stay behind.

There was movement in your left. You turned your head, grimacing at the stiffness in your neck, and saw Captain John Price sitting beside your bed. His face etched with concern, his cap resting on his knee, his weathered eyes fixed on you. The lines in his face seemed deeper, as if the worry for you aged him overnight.

“Welcome back, Spades.” He said, his voice low and steady. It was the kind of voice that had pulled many through the darkness of times, you had becoming a believer of it when he came back for you that night.

You tried to speak, but your throat felt dry and tight. Instead, you gave him a faint nod, a weak smile playing at the corner of your lips. The effort was exhausting, but you didn’t want him to see how much pain you were in.

"You scared the hell out of us," Price continued, leaning forward slightly. "Thought we lost you back there." He glanced down at his cap, turning it in his hands. "But you held on. Tough as nails, just like always."

Your memories came back in fragmented pieces—Price’s voice in your earpiece, the gunfire, the shouting, and the last thing you remembered before everything went dark: his arrival and his confession. He told you how important you were to him, just as you slipped away. It had been so sudden, so unexpected, and you didn’t have the strength to respond.

Your eyes locked with his, searching for the same emotion he’d shown back in that factory. You saw it there, a mix of relief and something deeper, something more personal. Price seemed to realize what you were thinking, and he sighed looking down at this cap again.

“Look, Spade,” He sighed, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. This was not the same Captain that thrived in arguing with you constantly. “I meant was I said before you…you know.” He gestured in the air vaguely, his hand indicating the medical equipment surrounding your bed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d heard me, but I couldn’t let you go without saying it. I know it’s not the best time or place, but I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer.”

You swallowed, the words finally coming to you. “I heard you, John.” You said, your voice. I just couldn’t respond.” You took a shaky breath, gathering your strength. “I—” Your voice faltered, but you managed to steady it. “I don’t know what to say but you’re important to me too, Price.”

Price nodded, his expression softening with relief now. “It’s okay. We don’t have rush into anything. You just focus on getting better, and we’ll figure out the rest.” He gave you a small smile. “I’m just glad you’re back with us.”

It took months before you were medically cleared and even allowed back in base. You were welcomed with the sight of your team, wrapping you in their arms, tears falling in each and every single one of them when you returned back better than ever.

“Welcome back, Spade.” It was Price that had interrupted the mini reunion with the rest of your team.

“Captain.” You smiled, for once you weren’t here to argue about him with what had transpired in the mission that left you injured and almost at the brink of death.

“I think there are some paperworks that need your attention at the moment.” He announced ruining your reunion.

You playfully rolled your eyes at the man. Typical for him at this point.

“Oh, by the way, don’t be late for dinner.”

You raised your brows at his last statement before he left you at the hands of your team, each and every single one of them wondering what has transpired during the mission and your recovery.

“What does he mean by dinner, Cap?” One of your Sergeants turned her attention towards you.

“Since when have you been buddy buddy with the worst man you had the misfortune of meeting, Spade?” Your lieutenant added.

“Go easy on me.” You sighed knowing so much has changed between you and the Captain, but it was a good change.

Who would have ever thought it would take a near death experience for you and one Captain John Price to be on good terms and eventually start a relationship that most of your team as well as his own have guess to eventually happen between the two of you.

[soft-mafia]

Alone Time [Buggy x Reader]

warnings: fem reader, oc insert, groping, smut, light daddy kink, spanking, porn without plot, just expect Buggy to take his dick off in all of my smut fics at this point

a/n: Listen if you had the ability to remove your dick at will and move it around wherever you want, don’t tell me that you wouldn’t use it during sex cmon now‼️

Buggy let out a loud groan as he flopped onto the bed, the headboard knocked against the wall as he did so, “Finally some alone time!” He sighed, resting his arms behind his head. He closed his eyes, but then opened one so he could watch Y/n get undressed, he grinned slyly.

“Why don’t you come over here once you’re done, baby, and give daddy some sugar.” Buggy chuckled slyly behind his grin.

Y/n rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but smile and giggle at his words, she turned her back towards him, giving him a good view as she took the ripped prison pants off, letting it drop to the floor to reveal her curves to him.

Buggy couldn’t take his eyes off of her, he felt his boxers tighten. Y/n eventually came over to him and laid on top of his body, tilting her head to press a kiss to his lips, “Mm..” Y/n moaned softly, quietly into the kiss.

“Yeah, gimme some of that.” Buggy muttered, grinning as he slid his hands up Y/n’s back to unhook her bra.

Y/n bit her lip, getting aroused at how Buggy always took what he wanted from her. She sat up a bit to throw her bra off to the side. Buggy’s grin grew wider his hands moving up to grab at Y/n’s chest, squeezing her breasts, “Oh yeah~” he chuckled gruffly, snarling under his breath as he rubbed his thumbs over her nipples.

Y/n’s breath hitched, her back arched as she trembled and watched Buggy fondle her, “Nnh..~ Buggy..” she whimpered. “This is all mine, baby.” Buggy growled, squishing her breasts together before moving his hands back down to her hips, watching her tits jiggle upon release, “All mine..~” he licked his lips, then pushed his boner up against Y/n’s ass. He leaned his head back and groaned deeply, his muscles twitching.

Y/n panted softly and leaned her head against Buggy’s chest, closing her eyes softly as Buggy bucked his pelvis against her. Buggy licked his lips, then grabbed the back of Y/n’s head and made her tilt her head back, giving her another heated kiss.

When they pulled back Y/n admired Buggy’s features, the glitter from his eye makeup had spread to other parts of his face, it glistened in the lamp light. “Here- let me get this off..” Buggy said, moving his hands from Y/n’s hips to pull his boxers below his pelvis, low enough to free his thick cock. It bobbed lightly upon release and Y/n looked down at it between her legs.

Buggy’s length was pressed up against her pussy, making her tingle slightly. He was dripping pre already as it throbbed. “You like that huh?” Buggy chuckled, noticing how she was eying up his cock, “Yeah, you like it.” He chuckled, snarling lightly as he exhaled and took his cock off, letting it float upwards, pressing it more into Y/n’s pussy before rubbing it up and down between her folds to give her clit some friction.

Y/n leaned her head back and moaned, her hips and thighs already trembling. She was getting Buggy’s cock wet with her pussy, lubing him up. Buggy let out a low, gravelly groan, his hands moved back to rest on Y/n’s ass as he continued with that motion, rubbing his cock back and forth. Y/n hid her face into Buggy’s shoulder, long blue hair falling over her own head as he chuckled lightly, “Yeah that’s right baby,” Buggy mumbled under his breath, groaning once more as he rubbed his tip against her pussy, gently slapping his tip against her clit.

Y/n was panting and whimpering, her legs trembling.

Buggy reattached his dick and moved his hands down to rest on Y/n’s thighs, “Hey uh.. put your ass up for me.” He said. Y/n looked back up at him again and nodded, “Whatever you say captain.” She giggled, turning around, leaning her head against the blankets, her ass up in the air exposed to Buggy.

Buggy grinned widely and sat up on his knees, giving Y/n’s ass a nice slap, Buggy snickered when he got a squeak out of Y/n, rubbing the area he slapped before detaching his dick and making it float up to her wet cunt again. She buried her face in the blankets, then gasped once Buggy pushed his cock all the way inside. He grunted when she clenched hard around him, his hands gripped her hips, squeezing them between his fingers and groaning as he looked down at her back, “Oh fuck that’s tight..” Buggy hissed under his breath, teeth clenched as he reattached his cock, his body jerked forward once it was attached and he began to thrust, “Damn you’re tight.” Buggy laughed as he moved his hips back and forth, his abdomen twitched.

Y/n moaned and gripped the blankets, panting heavily as Buggy rammed into her firmly. “B-Buggyy..” Y/n moaned, muffled by the blanket and accidentally drooling a bit. “Uh huh~” Buggy chuckled through his grunts and groans, gripping Y/n’s hips and slapping her ass occasionally, getting harder as he began picking up a rhythm with his thrusts, “That’s my good girl. Yeah.. take that fucking dick, flashy slut.” Buggy grunted, licking his teeth before slapping her ass again.

Y/n was whimpering, moaning and drooling over Buggy’s cock; her ass burned from the slaps, but the sensation she was feeling from his dick sliding in and out of her made it oddly pleasurable; her body felt so sensitive, every grunt and groan, every minor touch from Buggy was sending her over the edge as he fucked her.

Buggy thought it was so cute the way she was trembling, twitching at his touch, moaning and whimpering into the blankets; and she was so tight, the way she was clenching was driving him nuts, literally going mad inside of her. He tilted his head back and groaned loudly, fingers digging into her hips as he went harder, plowing into her thoroughly. The sounds of wet skin, his pelvis smacking against her ass could probably be heard from outside of his quarters(along with the loud creaks from the bed), but neither of them paid attention to that.

Buggy leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Y/n, hunching over her now as he continued to thrust, plowing through her walls as they both chased release. “Fuck you’re so good..!” Buggy grunted, his jaw clenched tightly, “I’m so close..!” He said breathlessly, holding onto Y/n.

She whimpered and lifted her head from the blankets to gasp for hair, she was swimming with pleasure, moaning louder and more clearly now, “Mmmhhff!! Buggy..!” She loved him so much, he made her feel so good it was crazy. His long blue hair had fallen over his shoulders as he was hunched over Y/n, draping over either side of her head as he fucked her. Buggy’s scent invaded her nose— a bit of a musky scent mixed in with cologne and booze but intoxicating none the less.

Y/n trembled, her back arching as she gripped the blankets tighter, “Buggy~!!” She moaned out, cumming on Buggy’s cock, “F-Fuck~!” Her pussy spasmed around his dick, clenching as she came. “Oh fuck, baby..” Buggy groaned, going faster and faster, he felt amazing— damn he felt good. Every time he had Y/n like this it inflated his ego, it made him feel like he was on top of the world. “I’m cumming, fuck..-!! I’m cumming.” Buggy groaned as one hand went to grip Y/n’s shoulder, he grunted as he thrusted into her one last time, he wanted to cum on her back so bad— he wanted to mark her on the outside like he marked her on the inside.

In a hurry, he pulled out and spilled his seed all over Y/n’s back, earning a gasp from her and a groan from himself.

Buggy threw his head back, groaning out into the air, “Holy shit.. fuck.. fuck that’s amazing.” He breathed out, his grip on Y/n’s shoulder loosened and slid down her waist. “Took it like a champ.” Buggy laughed, giving Y/n’s ass a rewarding pat before leaned back and sitting on his knees, he pushed his hair back behind his shoulder and brushed the stray strands away from his face.

“Did you cum on my back?” Y/n said, feeling both exhausted and airy, her head was still pounding.

Buggy giggled lightly and reached over to the side table to grab a towel, “Yeah.” He said, then held Y/n’s side again as he admired his cum slowly dripping down Y/n’s back, “God that’s hot..” he smirked.

“Bugggyyy…” Y/n whined, tilting her head back.

Buggy laughed and patted her ass again, “Alright alright, don’t worry babe, let me clean you up.” He reached over to the side table and grabbed a towel, gently wiping his cum off of her back with his other arm wrapped around over her chest. Y/n looked down and held Buggy’s arm, her head was still spinning but she was slowly relaxing.

Buggy glanced at Y/n and chuckled, “You’re cute.” He giggled, “Such a cutie.” He leaned in, tilting his head to give her a kiss on the cheek. Y/n smiled warmly, feeling a blush creep onto her face as he said that. Buggy gave her another kiss before tossing the now wet towel back onto the side table, figuring he’d deal with it later.

“Hey! You went through a night without using your dick as a literal fucking jackhammer!” Y/n giggled and playfully poked Buggy’s chest. He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah, I thought I’d give you a break.” He said before raking a hand through his scalp, “Hey what time is it? We gotta stop somewhere to get more ammo in the morning.” Buggy mumbled, then reached over on the night stand to grab his watch.

“I think it’s like.. 2, we have plenty of time to sleep, don’t worry.” Y/n said and flopped back on the bed, sighing.

Buggy threw his watch down and laid beside of her, wrapping an arm around her torso, one leg over hers and his head resting into the crook of her neck, “Mm, cozy.” He mumbled, smiling as he closed his eyes. Y/n gently combed her fingers through Buggy’s hair, gently feeling the tiny braids she helped put in his hair between her fingers.

Y/n’s eyelids felt heavy, she was completely tuckered out from being fucked senseless. It was comfortable having Buggy hold her in his strong arms, the peaceful sound of the waves moving against the ship added to the atmosphere, she could see the stars out of the window, her eyes slowly began to close.

Just when she was about to fall asleep, Buggy had sneaked his hand over to one of her tits, playfully pinching one of her nipples and making her eyes jolt open again.

“BUGGY!” She yelped.

[currentfications]

Ocean Eyes | Part 3

Pairing: Bada Lee x Producer!Reader

Synopsis: Latrice bailed on you for dinner, but set you up for a date with Bada instead.

Warning: Swearing, Flirting, Legs

AN: Sorry for the late upload and shorter than expected chapter!! Still trying to get over Monday - will try to upload over the next few days. Thank you to everyone for following along~

Previous | Next

After finally getting the keys to your recording studio, you were overjoyed and decided to take Latrice out for celebratory dinner.

Y/N: Dinner’s on me make yourself available

Latrice: 🤨

Latrice: u tryna poison me again?

Y/N: It was one time Latrice get over it

Latrice: I don’t have comprehensive health insurance here I’m not risking it

Y/N: 🙄 I’m taking you out for dinner

Latrice: Keep talking

Y/N: THE STUDIO IS READYYYY 🤩

Y/N: And I don’t wanna drink alone

Latrice: Wait that’s actually good news I’m so happy for you ahhhh 🥰🥰🥰

Latrice: But still no

Y/N: What why what did I do?

Latrice: Nothing I am busy

Y/N: 🧐

Y/N: Busy?

Y/N: …

Y/N: Waitttttt a damn minute

Y/N: I want a name cunt who tf you linked up with

Y/N: HELLO??? MA’AM?

Y/N: Whatever happened to sharing is caring huh?

Latrice: 👉🏾👈🏾

Y/N: Oh god what have you done

Y/N: Tell me it’s not who I think it is you dumb fucking bitch 😇

Latrice: 🤭

Y/N: Ms. Kabamba 😇

Team BEBE was filming the last bit of reaction segments with Mnet while they were interrupted by a few raps on their door. “Come in!” Lusher greeted her co-captain dance mate in with a hug.

Latrice slowly poked her head through the door, “Hey Bada can I borrow you for a quick second?”

Bada looked up, confused, but walked over nonetheless. “Is everything alright?”

“Calling in a personal favour,” Latrice smiled nervously, “can you go on a dinner tonight?”

“Dinner? Sure!” The choreographer hummed and nodded excitedly, “BEBE with Jam Republic?”

“You and Y/N,” Latrice snickered, “I have a date and had to bail, but she’ll be much much kinder to me if you’d go in my place instead.”

Bada raised an eyebrow and pointed at herself. Perplexed, she sounded a little dumbfounded, “Me? Why?”

Latrice rolled her eyes at the obvious question, “She has a fat celebrity crush on you since she the first episode aired, that’s why. Now please, pretty please with a cherry on top, would you go in my place tonight so she don’t-” Latrice stopped dead as you decided you’ve had enough of her ignoring your text and started calling her instead. Her eyes widen slightly in fear as she turned to the taller dancer. “Bada please I’ll owe you one, I’m so so sorry-” she swiped and picked up your call, “heyyyy Y/N, I was just telling Bada about your dinner plan tonight. She’s super keen! Here you go-”

Latrice palmed the phone to the choreographer like a hot potato, mouthing ‘thank you’ at the blonde.

Dinner with Bada? The sentence hasn’t fully registered in your brain as you begun to rip your high school mate a new one. “Ms. Kabamba,” you uttered with the coldest tone you could muster, a tone that Latrice knows all too well. A tone you only take with her when she knows she’s done something stupid, again.

“Sorry to disappoint,” a familiar voice broke you out of your rant. “Ms. Lee here. I heard we have plans?”

Damnit that cunt, I’ll deal with her later. You quickly composed yourself, “Never a disappointment, love. Any dietary restrictions?” You tried to mitigate your hoarse voice (from screaming ‘CUNNNNTTTTTT’ right before Latrice picked up the phone) and previously harsh tone by being as sweet as possible with your word choice, knowing that phone call rarely - if ever - made you sound more personable.

Love? Your husky delivery had the tall dancer flustered, trying to hide a blush taking form on her cheeks. Bada gulped, hard, and stumbled over her words, “N-no, I’m not picky. Where and when?” She tried to pass it off as cool and nonchalant, but Lusher seemed to have picked up on her change in tone.

“I’ll pick you up when you finish for the day? Latrice gave me their schedule.” Bada hummed over the phone, you can almost see her cute head bop as she does. Okay, dinner with Bada. One-on-one. I can do this, no biggie, fuck. “See you then, Love.”

Latrice gave Bada a parting hug when the call was over, the latter still bewildered by the unexpected call. “Thank you so, so much. You’re a life saver. Have fun later!” She quickly shuffled out the room, shutting the door behind her.

Lusher peaked over the tall dancer’s shoulder, Bada’s cheeks still warm from the conversation. She gasped as the blonde slowly clasped her hands onto her face, letting out a small shriek. “Oh god Bada what was that all about?” The co-captain raised an eyebrow at her leader’s demeanour.

“Lusher, did you bring an extra outfit?” Was the first thing that came out of Bada’s mouth.

Y/N: You’re off the hook

Y/N: For now

Y/N: I will grill you afterwards 😇

Latrice: What a weird way to say thank u but ok

Latrice: ure welcome

When you pulled up in your bike, you did not expect the gorgeous specimen to be walking out the building in a skirt. You gulped and paused for a (significant) moment, marvelling at her (legs). Her hair sat perfectly, framing her face. She smiled and waved at you, walking (omg her legs) over with a small prance (her legs y’all). “Hey, thanks for picking me up.”

“God you look amazing.” After pulling yourself together, you realised a slight problem. “I am so sorry,” you quickly apologised, motioning her skirt (legs), “I did not plan accordingly.”

She chuckled and shook her head, “Don’t worry about these, tights underneath. My hair however, is a different story.”

Relieved, you handed her a helmet with a smile and hopped onto the bike, signalling her to get on. Bada giggled and straddled herself behind you, wrapping her hands around your waist. Both of you were suddenly very grateful for the helmets for keeping you road safe and hiding blushes. “You good?” You did one last check. Bada hummed and gave you a soft squeeze before you both rode off.

Tag list: @bada-lee-ily @lil-elliesgf

[hazzyking]

This was inspired from something that happened to be in character Ai except here we get to use big girl words 👍🏻

Sorry this took so long. I'm bad at life.

Also. Buggy is an asshole in this one so that's a warning

And it's smutty

POV: After last night's kitchen quickie, you finally confront Buggy about what happened.

Apologize part 2

"Oh my GOD, just leave me alone! Why do you have to shove your big ass nose in everyone's business!?" You shouted. Before you had time to think about what you said, you had already said it. And immediately felt the guilt seep into your gut. "Buggy..." You tried to save yourself by grabbing his arm, but he yanked it away from you and stormed out the room. "Fuck" you cursed yourself and slammed your fists on the bed like a toddler having a tantrum. You sat on the bed with your head in your hands, beating yourself up over your outburst. He was only being playful... you could've just played along... but you were so irritated that day...

_________________________________________

"Is he still shunning you?" Moji asked as you sat at the breakfast table eating cereal in silence.

"Yeah" you muttered softly.

"You should apologize," Moji said.

"He was pestering me... he knew I was gonna explode. " You sighed, taking a bite of cereal.

"Maybe he wanted a fight, you two are hardly ever at eachothers throats... maybe he was trying to find something to argue about" Moji shrugged.

"He didn't fight he just walked away"

"Well he probably didn't wanna fight about his nose" Moji chuckled.

"How-"

"We hear everything," Moji said, looking deep into your soul.

"O-oh," you said, blushing profusely. You look down at your soggy cereal and then back at Moji. "I need to go," you say, getting up from your seat and matching to the captains quarters as you got closer to the door, you felt your heart bound in your chest and a red heat crawl up to the tip of your ears. you stormed into his office. Buggy, sitting at the desk with a quill in hand, jolted his head up and stared at you in surprise "what the hell Buggy!?" you said in an accusatory manner.

"w-what the hell?" Buggy retorted, more confused about your question rather than your entrance.

"You're mad at me because you annoyed me" you stated.

"no. im mad at you because you used the words "big ass nose" instead of being a big girl and telling me to leave you alone" Buggy spoke sarcastically, with a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

"you need to be a big boy and stop getting so pissy about your fucking nose" you said back, equally sarcastic.

"fuck you" Buggy muttered.

"no, fuck you" you said. turning on your heel ready to leave the office.

"I think I will"

"huh?" Before you could question what he said, Buggy was standing behind you and pulling you towards him, then pushing you against the desk, and catching your lips with his, in a very rushed, very sloppy kiss. you gripped onto his biceps as his arm pushed all the papers and ink bottles to the floor and slid your ass onto the desk all in one swift motion and without breaking the kiss. when you pulled away for air you noticed the ink had spilled all over the map he was working on "mph~ Buggy- the map" you moaned as he caught your lips once more.

"fuck the map" Buggy muttered as his kisses began attacking your neck. your eyes fluttered closed and you knocked your head back, allowing Buggy to start kissing and sucking on the skin of your throat, you let out a low moan as you pull him by the collar, wrapping your legs around his waist, trying to get him closer. Buggy's tounge glides across your neck, followed by light nips of his teeth, your breath hitches in your throat as you fall back against the desk.

"Mm.. yeah- fuck the map" you mutter as he begins kissing down your shirt and pulling it down to expose your brests, your breathing heavily now as you feel him lifting your shirt over your brests and continues to kiss down your chest and stomach, both of your heavy breaths filling the room as he quickly ripped your pants off around your ankles, and he lowered his hastily.

"I need you (y/n)" Buggy moaned against your skin as his fingers swiped along your entrance coating his fingers with your juices, he smirked as he sucked his fingers clean and slid the tip of his cock inside of you "ugh~ I guess you need me too Baby~" he groaned, his words getting stuck in his throat as he slowly slid his full length inside your pussy, your nails dug into his arms as he slowly begins thrusting

"I-I don't want to fight anymore- I'm sorry" you say weakly as his slow movements become unbearable.

"water under the bridge baby~" he groans as his pace quickens and you moan as his movements begin to shake the desk.

"o-oh god~" you gasp out as he continues the rough, needy pace, his cock hitting your g-spot and making the desk squeak with every thrust, moaning and groaning softly, sweat beading down his face in blue and red streaks. "B-Buggy '' you cry out. By now he'd have to stop so he wouldn't cum so quickly, but it's so early in the day- a quickie is almost required at this hour.

"fuck Baby~" Buggy moans under his breath as he thrusts into you. You moan in response, feeling your orgazm quickly approaching. "We need to fight more often~ this is so fucking good" he groans softly as he pulls you closer to him by the hips. You moan loudly as you cum on his cock, he keeps his pace rough and fast as he pumps his throbbing cock into you and cuts deep inside your pussy, his husky groans and the grip he has on your thighs almost turning you on again. 

"I'm sorry" you say in between breaths. 

"Me too" he responds, kissing your forehead gently. 

[mxtantrights]

Bounded by shadow and blood (10)

let me tell you right now this part is on the big side. Not too big but it's big enough! Strap in y'all we're about to see the blood bender in action and the inner circle will get some answers!! happy reading <3

azriel x magic!fem!reader

You have about a month or so before you would have to return home. Two months with basically nothing to show for it. All you have is the fact you know your brother wasn’t and never has been in the night court. 

You throw the blood blade into the tree. It hits the mark in the middle. Again.

You were getting no where. 

You were getting angry.

As quick as lighting you raise you hand and ten blood blades fly into the tree, all making a ring around the mark. You let out a strangled breath, then another.

You put your hand on your chest. 

Lars knows something but you would rather twist in the wind than ask him for help. Or got back to the night court.

A voice in the distance calls out your name. It’s familiar, it’s Thesan. You look around to see where it could be coming from. You eyes move around the trees and then towards the palace. 

There at the entrance to the garden he’s waving you over. In his hands he’s holding a piece of paper. It must be important or he would have waited for you to come inside.

You lightly jog over to the garden entrance. Thesan holds the paper, which you can see now is a letter, out towards you. 

“It’s for me?” You ask.

“Yes, it would seem someone wishes to strike a correspondence with you.” he answers.

You take the paper into your hands. It could be your brother. It could be the council. It could be Amren. It could be the night court. It could be any number of people. 

Flipping the paper around to the back you look at the seal. Red. 

Could still be your brother, the council, or Amren. She likes red.

You rip it open and unfold the letter.

“Do you wish to be alone?” Thesan asks.

You look up at him, “No. I might need your support for what’s in this letter.”

Thesan holds out his arm for you to take. You take it in yours and let him guide you to the nearest bench. You sit at the same time. You untangle your arms from his and hold onto the letter.

Your eyes run over the words quickly. You let out a shaky breath.

“What is it?” Thesan asks from your side.

“It’s my brother. He wants to meet.” You say.

“That’s great, isn’t it?” 

You look at Thesan, your eyes starting to get watery. If your brother sent you this message, it meant he wanted to explain why he left. He didn’t want to go back. If the council ever found out about this they would install you permanently.

“Why would he need to meet with me if we wants to go back home?” You ask rhetorically.

Thesan hums in agreement. 

You tuck your head into your hands. Thesan rubs circles into your back. You were teetering the edge to crying. All that has built up since you heard the bad news, you were well owed a good cry.

“When does he want to meet?” Thesan asks.

“In a few weeks. At the Day Court.” You answer. 

“Why Day?” 

You shrug your shoulders, “Who knows what goes on in his mind. I don’t understand him anymore.”

“What will you do?” He asks.

You pick your head up. The warm liquid finally falling down your cheeks. You probably looked horrible. Blood benders cry blood, something about the confusion of water and blood in the body for the first few moments. Thesan wipes the blood from your cheeks.

“Either I go and hear him out, or I turn him in for deserting. But no matter what I choose I’m next in line.” You answer.

Thesan nods his head, “We’ll think of something. I’ll call in a favor, I’ll call in the army if I have to.” 

“Oh, don’t call your Captain. I don’t want to put him in the middle of this.” You mumble sadly.

“He wouldn’t hesitate for you.” Thesan adds.

You shake your head at that.

“It’s my mess. I’ll take care of it.” you say.

“I may have a mission for you, a stress reliever if you will.”

“Anything to get my mind off of this.”

-

The dress fit you in all the right places. It felt good to distract yourself. Instead of your usual red ensemble, you were in blue-ish white for tonight. It was better to blend in with the crowd who would no doubt be in all white. Normal of the winter court attire. 

You had never been but you needed this. To go on a low-stakes mission and have a bit of fun. Who knows when the next time you’ll have fun will be.

With bated breath you press down on your dress. You look over yourself in the mirror one last time. You hair was done, so were your nails. You opted out of makeup for the night.

You grab your bag and your cloak. As you open the door you can feel it. The presence of another person in the palace. There were many people around the palace but you were used to them already. This person didn’t quite belong. 

You close your door and track the new comer. The closer you get the more you recognize them. Night court. Inner circle. When you reach the door to the tea room you feel more. More people.

You open the door slowly. As you do you see them winnowing in.

Rhysand with Feyre. Cassian with Nesta and Morrigan. Azriel with the other sister, Elain, and Amren.

When Amren sees you she smiles and runs over to you. You hug. It feels like it's been forever.

“I still can’t get used to that.” Cassian says.

You pull away from her, “What are you doing here?” 

“I figured a friend might be the best solution right now.” Thesan says from behind you.

Amren smiles at you, “I wanted to come alone but...” 

“Right. Well, I guess we’re all going to the winter court.” you continue.

“Actually me, the high lady and her sisters are having dinner with Thesan and the captain.” Rhysand corrects you.

That ticked you off. He and Nesta would be here while you were out. It was already clear at this point that they wanted to figure out more about you. Whether they thought Thesan was the way to do it or to snoop around your room is unclear. 

You looked to Thesan.

“I’m banned from talking about you.” The high lord speaks for himself.

You look at him with surprise. You weren’t expecting that.

“I’m on strict orders to take them home if anyone does.” Feyre says.

You nod your head once.

“Well all this waiting around is making me antsy. Amren your with me.” Cassian says.

Amren leaves your side without a word. Before you can even protest, she, Cassian and Morrigan are out of the tea room. Cassian winnowing them to the ball. Which meant that the only other person who was going, and the only way for you to get there, was Azriel. 

You meet his eyes for the first time. He’s looking at you now. Maybe he’s over whatever it is that happened at the match. He clears his throat and offers you his arm. 

You look back at Thesan, who nods his head, and you turn back to Azriel. You walk over to him and wrap your arm around his. The darkness surrounds you.

-

You can feel his eyes on you. It’s like whatever happened didn’t happen and he was back to watching you now. None of them seem to offer you any details about it. And you don’t want to ask.

Who were you to ask questions when you wouldn’t answer theirs?

You grabbed a new glass with the winter themed drink. It wasn’t even getting to you, they must be watered down. You take a sip and look over your shoulder. As soon as you do, Azriel who was looking at you from across the room, looks away and busies himself with something else.

“I’ve never seen you around.” A voice pull you from your thoughts.

You turn back and he stands in front of you. A tall man, blonde hair and blue eyes. He has a single braid in his hair, and a charming smile.

“This is my first time in the winter court.” You say.

It’s a lie. You’ve been here before for undercover missions. But you weren’t about to admit to that. Especially not to a stranger, no matter how handsome he is.

“It’s no wonder the lakes seemed to finally unfreeze this evening.” He flirts.

You can’t help the smile on your lips, you almost let out a laugh at his audacity.

“I’m sorry, it’s just—I’m not that good in social settings.” He rushes out.

You raise your eyebrows, “Then this ball is probably not the right place for you.” 

He laughs.

“No it’s probably not. But I can’t go against my parents.” He says.

Parents, you think to yourself. His parents made him come here? Well that sounded a bit interesting. Where could this go, you wonder.

You hold out your hand and introduce yourself with your name. He takes your hand and places a kiss on top of it. He tells you his name is Elias. 

Elias is fun to talk to. He sees the world a bit differently than other fae. He wants to travel different courts and also wants to travel outside of the continent. For such a free spirit, you wonder why he hasn’t just done it already.

“What ties you here? I mean, you seem like you want to go right now.” You say to him.

He puts down his drink on the table and signals for another. A server comes and gives him a new glass, taking his old one. Elias asks if you want another glass but you decline.

“Certain duties.” He answers.

It’s the most plain answer he’s given you all night. You struck a chord. It no doubt tied back to his parents. Maybe they needed someone to provide for them. Or they would miss him too much to let him go. 

“Surely your parents would understand.” You speak.

“Oh they do, but it’s not really their choice either.” He answers.

It seems so vague. You want to know more about what he means. You form your lips to ask another question but the procession starts. The doors open and the high lord and his lady start walking into the ballroom. 

Elias dips closer to you and whispers in your ear, “There’s my cue.”

You watch in amazement as he gets up and scurries to the back of the procession. Of course. He couldn’t go anywhere he’d like whenever he’d like because he’s the high lord’s son.

Elias looks over at you with a guilt ridden face. You smile at him. It’s not like you felt you were lied to. You were lying to him anyways. But the fact he seemed to worry that he didn’t tell you was the wrong choice really comforted you.

You watch as the high lord and his lady take their seats at the end of the ballroom. Elias is at the front of the crowd now.

Kallias starts talking to his guest. You take this moment to scan the crowd to find where the inner circle went. You can see Amren standing next to an older male. Morrigan is with Cassian, at the food table. And Azriel…is no where to be found. 

You do another scan of the crowd to confirm that you can’t find him. Where did he go?

The high lord says something that makes the crowd applaud. You find yourself clapping to keep up with appearances. Then the high lord requests that the ball goes on. The crowd disperses a bit amongst themselves.

It’s not long until Elias finds you. It actually takes less than a minute. You smile when he appears in front of you with two skewers of what seems to be food.

“Frozen candy.” He says.

He offers it to you and you take it. You slide one of the ice crystals off the skewer and into your mouth. It tastes like cold sugar. It’s weird and tasty at the same time.

“Woah.” You speak with your mouth full.

“I know. I only come to these things for the ice candy.” He says and takes one into his mouth.

“Should I bite?” You ask. You realize how intimate that sounded and try to course correct but Elias beats you to it.

“That candy? No. Other things, maybe.” He quips.

You smile.

-

The night is winding down. Most of the guests have left or are still lingering around for the drinks. The high lord and his lady left an hour ago. Elias though, he stayed.

You, Amren and Elias were sharing a table. Talking about nonsense at this point. She was trying to get him to visit you in the dawn court. Something about a date.

That’s where you mind was when the man came bursting in with a body in his arms. A tiny body, a child. He screamed that he needed help. A few people ran over to the scene. Elias got up and you followed after him. 

The man looked at Elias and recognized him as the high lord’s son. He begs him to help. The child in his arms is bleeding and freezing the wound may be the only way to get het to some real help. Elias kneels down to help the child. You place a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He looks up at you, lips parted in shock. It’s not like you wanted him to let the child die, but you know what it looks like.

You kneel down next to him and put your hand on the wound. Blood benders tried to stay out of the spotlight because of their abilities. If people knew the capabilities of your kind, you would never see peace. You’re lucky that the first was between blood benders and humans was way past your time.

You look at the young child, “What’s your name?”

He looked not older than ten. He was too young to die. He looks at you with faint eyes.

“Perrin.” He says.

You smile, “Perrin, I need you to keep your eyes open. Can you do that?”

You don’t wait for him to answer. You start to clot the blood inside of his body. His breathing slowly starts to even out. The older man holding onto him looks at you in disbelief. He can’t form words.

When the blood inside of his body is finished clotting, you work on closing the wound. It only takes a matter of moments. The blood cells work with the skin cells to close the gash. You remove your hand and inspect your handiwork. It’s like Perrin was never hurt. All that’s really left to show for it is the hole in his shirt. But that is all that remains.

You look down at your dress. It’s stained. Thesan is going to kill you. If he sees it like this. You stand back up and wipe the blood from your hands on your dress. Its only then, when you have finished, that you realize the crowd you have drawn around you. Morrigan, Azriel and Cassian looking at you with faced filled with emotions you couldn’t describe. Elias is still kneeling, but he’s looking up at you now, a slight smile on his face.

“He said you would help, but I didn’t believe him.” The older man says.

You look at the older man now, “Who said that?”

“Kynas.” 

The mention of the name runs your blood cold like ice. You hadn’t heard it in a while. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised. Your ex husband was exiled, not dead.

[seasonsbloom]

bad habit part iii (hangman)

part i, part ii

pairing ; hangman x female!reader

synopsis ; the moment you meet hangman, you know you hate him. and then suddenly, you’re not so sure anymore.

wc ; 23k; yes you read that right you can’t be more confused than me idk either and i wrote it in six days

warnings ; angst, explicit language, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of previous character death, explicit sexual activity (Explicit sexual content (oral f and m receiving, p in v, like one sentence about choking but not rlly, some dom/sub elements, a little bit of degradation and praise kink), age gap, inexperienced reader, more angst, sappiness, feelings so many feelings all the feelings

note ; i don’t know what to say, this is literally INSANE i’m feeling INSANE this was a fever dream i wrote 8k words today none of this makes sense but it’s OVER IT’S DONE IT’S FINISHED anyways this isn’t proofread but i love you all besties and girlies and babes pls don’t hate it

also this would never have been possible without sol aka desertsagecelestial the best lines in this whole thing are credit to her sol i love you hand in marriage NOW

Hangman doesn’t lose.

And people call him cocky, arrogant, conceited… but the thing is, it’s the truth. He’s not exaggerating. He just really is that good.

When Hangman wants something, he gets it. Promotions, missions, girls, difficult to obtain first editions of Spiderman comic books… Hangman figures out a way.

Of course, it wasn’t always like that. Back when Jake was younger, when he was the invisible kid at the back of the class who nobody wanted to play with, he had to fight tooth and nail for everything. When his father said he’d never amount to anything, it took Jake years to push back, to say no, you’re wrong. But he did, eventually, joined the Navy, graduated top of his class at Top Gun, became someone people knew, someone people looked at, someone who wanted to be seen.

So Hangman doesn’t lose because Jake learned how to fight.

This situation, then, is a complete novelty.

Jake rips his helmet off, ears still ringing with the roaring of the engine, heart still hammering the way it always does after a landing. He’s half adrenaline, the highest of high, half jitters. Head still firmly stuck in the clouds. Only this time, there’s the unfamiliar, bitter taste of failure on his tongue. 

He doesn’t know whether to be embarrassed or surprised.

Captain Mitchell, having climbed out of his own plane, approaches with a frown. Just a few steps away, by the entrance to the hangar, where the Californian sun is flooding the asphalt with golden light, a throng of the other pilots has formed.

If Jake even sees Rooster, he might start throwing punches. He’s toeing a precarious line here - ascension or plummeting.

“What was that?” Maverick wants to know, fiddling with his helmet’s clasp. “You flew straight into my line of fire, Hangman.”

So, yeah, maybe Jake just got shot down in less than a minute. So, yeah, maybe he made a rookie mistake. So, yeah, maybe Jake is having a really bad day.

“I still maintain that he got dumped last night,” Coyote says. There’s no malice to the words, but Jake wouldn’t be surprised if he and Payback had some money running on this.

“I did not get dumped,” Jake growls for what feels like the fiftieth time. Seriously, his tongue is starting to go numb.

“Oh,” Phoenix says, “you totally got dumped.”

Now that might be actual malice. Phoenix decided last night that whatever had happened between you and Jake was clearly his fault, and she was therefore firmly and squarely on your side.

In Jake’s opinion, there are several things wrong with that assessment.

First of all, there shouldn’t even be any sides. It’s not like your circle of friends has to pick teams in a divorce. Secondly, even though she constantly complains about him, he’s known Phoenix for years. She met you less than a month ago. Shouldn’t she be in his corner? And then lastly and most importantly… Jake has no idea what the hell he did wrong.

It’s all pretty unfair.

“I told you that I didn’t get dumped,” Jake repeats, forming the words slowly and carefully in the hopes that they will sound more convincing than he knows them to be. “We weren’t dating.”

And he can’t explain it, that clenching in his stomach, that lump in his throat. He can’t explain any of it, except that it hurts in a way that’s unfamiliar, in a way that’s unwelcome.

Man. He really needs a drink.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

That’s Rooster, definitely. Jake tilts his head back towards the high, high ceilings of the hangar to avoid catching the other pilots’ eyes. 

Lord, give me strength, he thinks.

“Don’t quote Shakespeare at me.”

“Wow, you know Shakespeare?” Phoenix says immediately. “I didn’t know you could read, Bagman.”

Before Jake can retort something, Maverick steps between them.

“Hangman,” he says, and something about his voice is severe enough that Jake snaps to attention. “Is that true?”

“Is what true?”

He’s one hundred percent playing for time here. Sue him. He needs to come up with an excuse.

“Did you mess up because you were thinking about a girl?”

And the thing is, Jake wants to say no. He wants to say, No, Sir, I had a bad night. He wants to say No, Sir, the sun was in my eye. He wants to say, No, Sir, I was dodging a bird strike.

But every word turns to vapor on his tongue. He can’t get anything out.

And so he just stands there, blinking like an idiot at his instructor.

Because the truth is, Jake can’t for the life of him remember what he was thinking about as he went up on the plane. Considering you’ve been on his mind pretty much non-stop since you met, and it’s only gotten worse since you stormed up to him at the Hard Deck last night, it’s not unlikely that he really was knee-deep in a train of thought revolving around you.

You’ve been haunting him. A specter squeezing into the cockpit with him. A ghost sneaking into his bed. Riding shotgun in his car.

You’re everywhere, at the bottom of each glass, soaring in the skies, under his skin, in his bloodstream. He can’t shake you.

There’s real disappointment on Maverick’s face, and Jake’s stomach drops. The older man sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“You guys…” he says softly. “This isn’t a joke. Up there, you can’t be distracted, not by girls or boys or anything juvenile like that. You can’t be distracted by anything. This is life or death. Death, do you get that? I won’t have it. And this goes for all of you.”

He makes sure to let his pointing finger wander over all of them before he storms off, the door slamming behind him.

An awkward silence spreads among them, punctured only by the shuffling of feet and somebody clearing their throat.

“Well,” Rooster says finally, slapping Jake on the back with enough force it almost buckles his knees as he makes for the door. “Thanks for that, Hangman.”

Jake should probably say something, but his mind is wandering again. He’s thinking of you, standing in a sea of broken glass, Mojito staining the front of your shirt, eyes shuttered and forlorn in a way he hadn’t seen before… 

He gets the feeling now.

“Jesus,” Coyote says, stepping up beside Jake. “The way Captain Mitchell is talking, you’d think he isn’t hooking up with Penny on the down-low.”

Something about Coyote’s voice tells Jake he feels bad for him. He doesn’t like the idea of that, not one bit, but he also can’t really find it within himself to do something about it right now.

“Mitchell and Penny are hooking up?” Jake asks, genuinely surprised.

Bob, passing by them, frowns. “Hangman, you really aren’t very perceptive, are you?”

It’s so out of character that for a moment, Jake considers if he’s somehow managed to go through a black hole and ended up smack dab in a parallel universe where Bob, of all people, goes around insulting others. Where Jake, eternal bachelor, famed ladies’ man, messes up flight maneuvers because he’s too busy thinking about a girl.

“Did… did Bob just shade you?” Coyote asks.

For a moment, Jake seriously considers hitting his head against a wall.

So, yeah, maybe Jake is having a really, really, really horrible day. So much for never losing.

+

Something’s off.

First of all, Penny’s never invited you to dinner. Second of all, this is decidedly not the kind of establishment you were expecting.

Penny seems like a burger and fries in her car sort of girl. Maybe a few bottles of beer or a couple of milkshakes to wash it all down. The little restaurant twinkling golden on the beachfront is entirely out of character. 

Narrow round tables are covered in red and white checkered tablecloths, fairy lights are strung to the rafters, and behind the floor-to-ceiling windows, boats bob up and down on the waves. It’s a tiny place, cramped but charming. Upbeat Jazz plays from invisible speakers, and a smiling waitress leads you past what seems to be only couples on anniversary dates.

“Here you go,” she says as she seats you at your table, right at the glass front, and hands you each a menu. “I’ll come to take you guys’ order in a minute.”

You sit in the plush chair, frowning. Penny is perusing the menu like nothing’s wrong.

“Oooh, Lasagna al Forno… that sounds good, doesn’t it?”

“Penny,” you interrupt, not even opening your own menu. “What’s going on?”

Penny barely glances up at you. “You needed to get out of the house, sweetie.”

And she’s not wrong. You spent the last week since your… altercation with Hangman curled up in your bed, letting the anxiety eat away at you. The walls of your room closing in on you, the weight on your chest pushing you down until it practically molded you to the mattress.

Everywhere you looked, the world had grown teeth.

“I’m fine,” you say, but the words sound empty even to your ears.

Penny doesn’t indulge you.

“No, you’re not,” she says, voice firm. “You’re miserable.”

When you ended things with Hangman, you didn’t think much about whether you were making the right decision. You just wanted out. You wanted it to end, so scared of what would happen if it didn’t, if you let it continue, if you dipped even deeper into that pool. So scared that it might start meaning more than what it already did, that you would put your heart on something that was bound to end anyways.

Because guys like Hangman… handsome guys, confident guys, guys that hang around bars with toothpicks in their mouths… guys like that break you apart without a second thought.

And you’re already broken enough.

“I’m fine,” you reiterate and finally open your menu, staring at the entrées without seeing a thing. “I’m glad things are over between Hangman and me. It’s better this way.”

Penny is quiet for a moment, then she says, “Sweetie, you need to talk to him.”

“No, I do not,” you answer immediately. This is not the first time you’ve had this conversation. “What could I possibly have to talk to him about?”

“Oh, just… maybe you could explain to him just why you decided to break both your hearts, I don’t know.”

You purse your lips. “Penny. Hangman doesn’t care. He said so himself. This didn’t mean anything to him.”

And it’s so stupid. But his words replay in your mind like a broken record, like an endless loop, again and again. This was nothing. The cold upward turn of his mouth as he said it. Calm, collected. Unfazed.

You’re an idiot. You spent a few weeks flirting with a guy who wanted to get into your pants, and you made it into something it never was - made it big, made it important, made it matter, when really, to him, it had only ever been a game from the very beginning.

And now he’s off, somewhere, flying his planes, living bigger than you ever will, dreaming better, and you’re left on the ground, scrambling to pick up the pieces of yourself.

It’s pathetic.

But Penny looks at you from across the edge of her menu and says, “Pete says he’s been fucking up majorly during training. He’s distracted.”

It gives you pause for a moment and your heart - that stupid, incorrigible thing that never learns, never lets go, that latches onto everything - stutters in your chest.

“Huh?” you ask eloquently.

Penny jerks her head. “This wasn’t nothing to him.”

The smiling waitress returns with a notepad, and Penny orders lasagna and a bottle of wine. You settle for some kind of risotto, mainly because it’s the first thing your eyes land on.

After she’s left, you take a deep breath.

“It…” You hesitate. It’s so difficult to say it, to admit it, but you think if you don’t get the words out now, you never will. “It didn’t, Penny. I’m not… I’m not really someone people remember. I’m just… I don’t know. I’m just me. This didn’t matter to him. I didn’t matter to him.”

And Penny’s face softens. All her irritation of the past few weeks, the constant nagging when you came over for the tutoring session, the stream of texts asking you to come over for drinks, when she knocked on your door earlier, uninvited, and forced you into the shower, into a dress, into her car, it all just melts away. There’s nothing there now, not even pity, nothing there but genuine, real compassion, and you think you’re going to cry right here, in the middle of this restaurant…

“Oh, sweetie,” she says, reaching across the table to cup both your hands in hers. “You’re worth so much more than you think. When will you finally realize that?”

And it’s like this: since your mother’s death, you’ve just been so horribly, achingly lonely. The sort of loneliness that goes bone deep, that burrows into your bloodstream. You’ve drifted through the world unmoored, untethered, not belonging anywhere. Sure, you met people, but they disappeared from your life as quickly as they entered it. You let yourself become invisible, see-through like cellophane.

But with Penny, it’s like she sees you. Really sees you. In a way you don’t think anybody except your mother ever did, right down to your insecurities and flaws.

And somehow, with Hangman, it was the same. He saw something there with you, saw what you needed and what you wanted before you even really knew it yourself. And you don’t know if that’s just something about him, something he can do with any girl, or if it’s something special, if he understood you, all you know is that it terrified you half to death.

There’s something reassuring about remaining in the dark.

It’s a good thing the waitress comes back with a bottle of wine and a bread basket because you’re pretty sure you would have started sobbing otherwise.

You think you’re going to thank Penny, eat your food, try and enjoy the evening, and then maybe crawl into bed at the end of the night and cry a little more. Just… make the best of it.

But Penny glances over your shoulder, and something mischievous passes over her features. Suddenly, you feel a little sick.

She rises from her seat, and by the time you’ve glanced over your shoulder, they’re already at your table.

“Hi, Pete,” Penny says, grinning. “Hi, Hangman.”

You’re doing your very, very best not to look at him. Your stomach is turning. Perspiration builds up lightning-quick on the inside of your palms.

“Hi, Penny,” the older pilot you’ve never talked to but have seen hanging around the bar several times echoes, giving her a soft smile. He greets you by name, and you’re so stunned, so excruciatingly uncomfortable, that you can’t even react.

Pete manhandles Hangman into Penny’s vacated chair with two hands on his shoulders, and then you don’t really have a choice but to stare at him. He’s right there, in your line of sight.

Hangman looks as shocked as you feel, but there’s something else, too. He’s still handsome, of course, still tanned and blond and perfect, but something seems to have shifted. His hair is just a little less tidy, the bags beneath his eyes a little more pronounced. For the first time ever, you see him in civilian clothes - a t-shirt and jeans, something softer around the edges that makes your insides clench.

All initial instincts of flight bleed right out of you. It’s half hope, half fear, that keeps you rooted to your chair.

“You said this was a lesson,” Hangman says to his superior, looking, for lack of a better word, desolate.

“It is,” Pete answers, patting his shoulder before withdrawing.

And Penny says, “Listen, I know the owner. If you guys leave before finishing your dinner, there’ll be hell to pay.”

She points at Hangman. “I know your boss.”

Then she points at you. “I am your boss.”

And that’s final. Penny has a way of getting what she wants.

Before she leaves, she leans down to hug you and whispers softly, “Sweetie, you don’t need to go out of this evening dating him. You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to. But I think he deserves an explanation, at the very least.”

She draws back, smiles at the two of you as if she’s just performed some great, benevolent act, and then disappears with Captain Mitchell.

You half expect Hangman to get up and leave the moment the two are out of earshot. You half expect yourself to do the same.

But you both stay where you are, at that table, actively avoiding the other’s eyes.

The waitress comes to drop off your food. Hangman pours both of you a glass of wine and then downs his in one go.

Finally, he sighs like he just lost some internal fight and says, “I can’t believe they totally just parent-trapped us.”

“Parent-trapped?” you repeat, a little dumbly.

“Yeah, like… tried to set us up. You know, like in the cinematic milestone with Lindsey Lohan?”

You nod.

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. The gears in your head are turning on overdrive. You feel near frantic with nerves.

“Personally,” you say, your mouth moving before you’re really aware that you’re speaking, “my favorite bad matchmaker is Emma Woodhouse.”

Hangman frowns. “Who’s Emma Woodhouse?”

That has you gaping at him. 

“You don’t know Emma? By Jane Austen?”

“Jane Austen?” Hangman takes a sip of his water. “Is that the one with the Pride & Prepaid something? Where everybody goes to each other’s houses and just talks for hours?”

You’re going to have an aneurism. 

“Emma,” you say, now having trouble controlling your voice, “is one of the greatest pieces of literary fiction ever created. And you mean Pride & Prejudice.”

“Really?” He leans back and looks at you. “So what’s it about, then?”

“Well,” you launch into an explanation, jumping at the chance not just to fill this horrible silence but also to talk about one of your favorite books, and the words just seem to flow from you now, “Emma Woodhouse is this really pretty, really rich young Lady, yeah? And she decides that she’s not gonna get married, so instead, she tries to find a husband for her poor friend Harriet. So she wants to set her up with Mr. Elton, only it turns out Mr. Elton is actually into Emma, and at some point, they’re alone in a carriage, and he proposes marriage to her, and it’s super awkward, but then Emma thinks she’s in love with Frank Churchill who also turns out to not be for her and in the end, she realizes she’s really been in love with Mr. Knightley all along, who’s like a really close family friend, only now Harriet might be in love with Mr. Knightley, too, and they have a bit of a falling out and….”

Much too late, you stop yourself. The embarrassment comes belatedly, but it settles all the stronger.

Hangman is looking at you with a somewhat dazed expression. You can’t believe you just said all that.

You drag your fork through the mess on your plate, cheeks hot, and round it off by saying, “Anyway, it’s really about Emma realizing the errors of her ways and becoming more considerate of others, and it’s a commentary on class and privilege and all. It’s pretty good.”

“Okay,” Hangman says, and you have never wanted the powers of teleportation more than you do at this moment.

The embarrassment is going to eat you whole.

After another moment, Hangman says, “That just sounds like the plot of Clueless.”

You freeze, fork halfway to your mouth. 

“You… you know Clueless?”

One of Hangman’s eyebrows raises nearly to touch his hairline. “Do I know Clueless?” he repeats. “Is Cher Horowitz one of the best cinematic characters ever created? Of course, I know Clueless, I’m not a barbarian.”

You stare at him until a big blop of risotto rice lands on the tablecloth.

“Oh, I…” you stutter, moving to mop the spilled food up with your napkin. “Clueless is like, one of my favorite movies ever.”

“Yeah?” He grins, seemingly relaxing just a little bit. “Mine too. So, did Jane Austen steal the plot?”

You can’t help it - it punches a laugh out of you.

“No, it… Clueless was based on Emma. The novel came out like… 180 years earlier, I think.”

“Right.” Hangman nods. “Well, if it inspired Clueless, it must be a pretty good book then.”

You’re almost sure this is the longest conversation you’ve ever had without Hangman trying to get into your pants. It also might be the longest conversation you’ve ever had about your interests without someone shutting you down.

You’re developing a headache.

“Listen,” Hangman says suddenly, leaning forward in his chair. Something in his face has gone serious. “I understand what happened. I was pushing for something you didn’t want, and I pushed too hard, and you put a stop to it. That’s fine. It’s good, really. I respect it.”

And that’s not it at all. But you don’t know how to tell him that he’s got it all wrong, that it’s not that you didn’t want it. It’s that you wanted it too much. Wanted him so much it felt dangerously close to falling for him. Wanted him so much you knew you were giving him the power not just to see you, but to leave you.

He takes a deep breath.

“That doesn’t mean we have to avoid each other. Let’s just… let’s just be friends, okay?”

You feel like somebody punched you in the face.

“Friends?” you repeat softly.

“Friends,” Hangman confirms. He’s nodding his head.

Penny told you to explain it to him, made it seem like an imperative, but as you sit there, you realize she was wrong. You realize it doesn’t matter. Not to him, at least. Those words in the bar cross your mind again. It was nothing. His indifference to all that emotion you carry everywhere you go.

And you’re so angry with him, even if you know that you’re the one who brought this down on you, you’re the one who decided to end it. So angry you want to take him by the shoulders and shake him until that mask he carries finally slips off, until you get to see what lies beneath that.

Because the truth is, beneath the anger, beneath the frustration, you’ve spent the past week thinking of him. In bed, in the shower, at the gas station. And you missed him, even if that doesn’t make any sense.

And if you don’t tell him the truth, if you just let him believe his sexual advances were just a little too much for you instead of revealing the real depth of your feelings… well, then maybe you can at least preserve the last shreds of your dignity.

Besides… maybe, you think, it’s better to get any piece of him than nothing at all. Better to be friends than never to see him again. At least this way, you’d be safe.

“Yeah,” you say, and your voice sounds far away. “Yeah, friends. Okay.”

Hangman smiles, and it’s a real, genuine smile as opposed to his usual smirks. His eyes go all crinkly, and you clutch your fork tighter.

And after that, it’s… nice. You find out, to your own horror, that you actually do like Hangman. He’s funny and witty, and when he isn’t trying to fuck you, you realize you actually have things in common.

Together, you empty the bottle of wine and have another glass each, finish your meals, and share a plate of tiramisu that seems to melt on your tongue.

You squabble about the bill, but finally, Jake concedes and lets you pay, even though he looks like he’s about to start muttering in anger.

You like it. It kind of feels like finally being on even ground after weeks of fighting an uphill battle.

When you step out of the restaurant, leaving the Jazz and the smell of pasta behind, you pause. It’s a bit of an unsettling realization to come to, but you don’t want the night to end.

Hangman stops a pace or two behind you, tipping his head back into the breeze.

He looks younger like this, out of his uniform, with a blush painted on his cheeks by the wine, with the wind tousling his hair. All his edges blurred into something almost gentle. Boyish.

Calling him Hangman seems wrong.

Jake, you think, and something deep inside of you aches. Jake.

Smiling, he turns to you. “Do you need a ride home?”

You don’t trust your own voice, so you just nod.

“Alright.” He starts towards his car, then immediately stops. “Actually… do you mind taking a walk on the beach? I think I should sober up a little more.”

No, you don’t mind one bit, and that’s the danger of it all.

“Fine,” you agree. You mean for it to be clipped, but instead, it comes out like a squeak.

Jake, who doesn’t seem to notice your tone, smiles and leads the way down a trodden path that takes you by the restaurant’s trash cans and then onto the sand of the beach.

It’s colder here, enough that you wrap your arms around your torso to leech off your own body warmth.

Jake is already halfway out of his jacket before you begin protesting.

“Come on,” he says. “I know you don’t believe it, but my mother actually did raise me to be a gentleman. I keep telling you.”

So you let him drape the jacket over your shoulders, and suddenly you’re enveloped in his scent, and your mouth is dry, and your stomach clenches.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

You walk along the beach for a while in perfect silence. The wind dances through your hair, the air smells crisp and fresh and salty, and the waves roll in from the sea, white foam that nearly licks at your feet.

It’s peaceful. Serene. It’s dangerous because it feels so much like a date, and you want to hold Jake’s hand so bad, and he’s almost devastatingly handsome in this light, but you ignore it. Look straight ahead and pretend you’re not feeling it.

Finally, Jake stops and sits down in the sand. Hesitantly, you follow his example, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?” Jake asks, staring out at the waves.

You frown. “Seriously?”

“What? That’s a normal question people ask their friends.”

You don’t know about that, but you do answer, “I don’t know. I don’t really remember?”

“Not at all?”

You pause. It’s almost too easy to be truthful with him, and with a start, you realize that you trust him.

God, you must be an idiot.

“I used to…” You clear your throat. “Well, there was this house on my street back in Seattle. A house with a blue door. I used to dream about buying it one day and living there with my husband, and my kids, and our dog.”

You half expect him to laugh at you, call you childish or naive, or a romantic. But he doesn’t. He just listens, face utterly void of judgment, and your stomach swoops.

“Do you still want that?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. “But it was the first real dream of my life. I don’t know if you ever really grow out of those.”

Jake nods. “Yeah, you probably don’t, right?” He’s quiet for a moment, and then he continues, “Mine was becoming spiderman. Honestly, I’d still give my right arm for it.”

And it actually makes you laugh. An honest, genuine sound that echoes across the beach.

Jake’s smile is brilliant in the night. 

“I like that sound,” he says softly. “Do it again.”

To cover up the feeling rising up in you - something you’d describe as bashfulness, if that wasn’t so disgustingly ridiculous, something that warms you inside out - you feign nonchalance, say, “Well, tell me something funny, then.”

“Something funny, yeah?” He leans back in the sand with a sigh as you nod, balancing his weight on his elbows, and turns his head up at the night sky like he’ll find inspiration up there. “I thought Star Wars was real for like… an embarrassingly long time.”

“What?”

“Yeah, like, full on.” He nods, face almost solemn. “I looked Han Solo up in history books and shit, I got so confused when I couldn’t find him. I was just like, do people know about this, like, they have to know about this, like about little green Yoda guys and….”

You can’t help it. You start dissolving into laughter halfway through, and Jake looks up at you, grinning.

“Are you serious?” you ask through your laughter. The thought of little Jake thumbing through history books frantically as he searches for Han Solo - who you just know was his childhood idol - is almost too much.

He shrugs. “That’ll be my secret. Did make you laugh, though.”

“Yeah, you did,” you admit, and then you let yourself fall into the sand beside him. It’s cool, grains catching in your hair, and you’re pretty sure you’ll spend the rest of your week trying to get them out again, but it’s worth it for the view. 

The night sky stretches endless above you. You’re close enough to the sea and far enough from San Diego that the light pollution has bled out here, that you can see the stars twinkling up there. A million miles away, yet so close you think you could pluck one if you just stretched out your arm.

“Maybe I should be a teacher,” you say, and then freeze up. Because, what the fuck? Where did that come from?

You’ve never even thought about that, but it just burst out of you, like something you’ve been carrying in your chest your whole life.

Awash in the surprise, you can do nothing but blink for a while.

“A teacher?” Jake repeats. “What subject?”

“English,” you say immediately. Okay, well. Guess we’re having epiphanies about ourselves then. “It’s just that… well, I… I like tutoring Amelia. It’s my favorite time of the week, I think. And I… I love all those books other people are forced to read. I even like Catcher in the Rye, can you believe it?”

“Even Catcher in the Rye?” Jake says, mocking you by letting out a scandalized gasp and slapping a hand over his mouth. You laugh and shove at his shoulder. 

Grinning, he says, “I think you’d be a great teacher.”

And your heart beats faster. “Yeah?”

He nods. “I think you’d be great at anything you put your mind to, really. But I saw you talk about that book earlier… it’s like you were glowing. You love that. People are always best when they do what they love.”

It’s unexpectedly wise. It knocks the wind right out of you.

You need to take a moment to collect yourself, avoid the intent gaze of his eyes that makes it feel almost like he knows you.

“Have you always wanted to be a pilot, then?” you ask.

Jake shrugs, a movement you feel more than see, his arm moving up where he’s pressed against yours, shoulder digging a deeper furrow into the sand.

“Maybe. I guess.” You think he won’t say anything else, but after another moment, he goes on, “My father is a general, you know? It’s sort of a family tradition.”

You didn’t know that, but it sort of makes sense. Another shade to color Jake Seresin in with.

“He must be really proud of you,” you say, thinking of your own father, who hasn’t called in months.

Jake is quiet for so long that you glance over to check that he hasn’t fallen asleep. His eyes are open, though, and his throat bobs as he swallows.

“Not really,” he says, finally. “My father always thought I was a disappointment. I remember one time in middle school, there was this boy… He was a real bully. He liked to slam me into lockers, and one time he broke my nose. My dad just said it was my own fault for not fighting back.”

His jaw moves as he grinds his teeth.

“Nothing I do ever really… is enough for him.”

There’s something in his voice you never thought Jake capable of: defeat.

Your chest aches with it.

“Not even when you graduated Top Gun?” you ask carefully. “You were top of your class, right?”

Jake shrugs again. “He didn’t come to the ceremony. Mom said he was sick, but… I don’t think that’s true.” He exhales, and it’s a shaky, fragile sound. “Sometimes… sometimes I think he’d only ever be proud of me if I got shot down. If I died in combat or something.”

Your reaction is visceral. Heart plummeting, stopping, arm jerking against him.

“Don’t…” you begin, then shake your head vehemently. “Don’t say that, please.”

He glances at you, looking almost surprised at your outburst.

“It’s not…” You hesitate. “It’s not worth it. Not if he doesn’t recognize it already.”

“Recognize what?” 

And Jake won’t take his eyes away from you. You feel like you’re going to fall apart.

“That you’re… that you’re a good pilot.”

You swallow, immediately embarrassed by your own words. You can’t even look him in the eyes.

Jake raises an eyebrow. “You’ve never even seen me fly.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, and mean every word, “I know.”

It’s not enough. It’s way too much.

It doesn’t say half of the things you want to tell him, at the same time as it reveals much more than you want it to.

And you remember: It was nothing. Shrugging off everything he made you feel. Laughing as if nothing had happened. Telling you without as many words that you were just another conquest, just another girl in a line of girls, nothing special about you, nothing important, nothing relevant.

You want to hate him, yet something about Jake makes it impossible. Something about him keeps drawing you back. Even after everything that’s happened, wanting him is like a bad habit you can’t shake.

You can’t explain that.

But Jake reaches out to you and slots his fingers into the spaces between your own. Squeezes once.

Your fear got in your way. Even now, it chokes all words from you.

But that’s fine. You think, somehow, Jake understands anyway.

He’s quiet for a while and then says, “Why are you here, then? In Fightertown, I mean.”

It’s a good question, one you don’t know how to answer. 

Finally, you say, “My mother died.” 

And then you freeze. It’s the first time you’ve ever said it out loud, and suddenly it’s real in a way it wasn’t before. 

Haltingly, almost shell-shocked by it, you continue, “And it… it made me realize that I’d built my whole life around her. And when she was gone… well, that life was gone, too. Like that dream about the house with the blue door… It didn’t seem to matter anymore. So I just left. I just… drove until I got to Fightertown, and then I decided to stay because… I don’t know. There was nowhere else to go, anyway.”

Tears pool in your eyes, and you concentrate hard to blink them away.

“And do you like it here?”

You’re so grateful. You’re so grateful he doesn’t tell you that he’s sorry about your mother, that he doesn’t judge you for not having had a life apart from her. That he doesn’t ask about your father or your friends. So grateful that somehow, again, he seems to understand what you need: Not the past, but the present.

“Yeah,” you say and are surprised to find you’re telling the truth. “Yeah, it’s not so bad.”

Then you glance at him. “Unless the most obnoxious naval aviator in the history of the world almost knocks you over in a bar, of course.”

Jake laughs, a carefree, bellowing sound that has you feeling a little bit like you’re soaring.

“Only because you’re so pretty, sweetheart,” he says, winking at you.

And it’s toeing the line. Not really friendly, not really platonic, but so Hangman, so Jake, that you don’t even mind.

You smile back, and then you turn your eyes up to that sky, to those stars, and listen to the whisper of the waves, holding tight to Jake’s hand.

+

The thing about fear is that it’s not a one-time situation. Overcoming it once doesn’t get rid of it - it just goes stagnant for a while, lulls you into a false sense of security, and then it pounces again.

So walking into the Hard Deck is a little easier, but the rest of it is just as hard. Reassuring yourself that you’re wanted here, that you’re not intruding, that nobody will look at you weirdly.

Hangman and Phoenix invited you. Separately, you tell yourself. You know the owner. You’re gonna be okay.

You can’t spot any familiar faces when you finally get the courage to make it from the front porch into the actual bar. It’s all just strangers mingling.

Mostly looking for a little bit of liquid courage and something to occupy your time with until the others arrive, you make your way to the bar and flag down one of the unfamiliar bartenders to order a cocktail.

After, you turn to people watch. They’re everywhere, laughing and flirting, people lining up shots in neat rows on bar tops, people knocking back shots, people playing darts and pools and footsie, people laughing with their friends or at their friends. It’s almost shocking, all that display of life. It makes you think of yourself, alone in your room for days, weeks, years. How much did you miss?

“Can I buy you another?”

The guy is handsome. That’s the first thing you notice. Not Hangman-level handsome, but… that’s not the sort of thoughts you should be having anyway. Curls, kind eyes, a dimple on his cheek. Cute. The kind of guy you might have stared at in the supermarket a few months ago, would have lost your mind over if he had smiled at you in the frozen foods section.

“Oh,” you say as he slides up to you, folding and bracing his arms on the tabletop. “Uhm…”

“No strings attached,” he promises, holding up his hands like he wants you to check that he’s not carrying any weapons. “You just looked lonely.”

You laugh, feeling a little bit out of your depth. “Did I really?”

He nods, eyes twinkling, and says, “Yep. I could tell all the way from the other end of the bar.”

That’s probably not a good sign, you think. Gotta start working on my poker face.

“I’m Jason, by the way,” the guy introduces himself, offering you a hand.

This feels a lot like a precipice.

Part of you knows you should give in. Let this guy buy you a drink, let him flirt with you, let him take you home. Get an ego boost and have a nice time. This, you think, was what Penny meant all the time she talked about getting the sexual frustration out of your system. 

Not whatever the fuck that twisted thing you and Hangman had going on was. Definitely not that, because it didn’t get a single thing out of your system. In fact, it only ended up injecting more into your system. More worries, more insecurities, more pain.

And it’s over, you know it is. He listened when you asked him to stop, and he’s made it abundantly clear he’s not interested in you, that you were less than a fling, that you were just a possibility that never came true. That you were nothing. And yet… you’re not ready to let it go. To let go of whatever sliver of hope you’ve held onto.

But then you think of Jake at the restaurant, how easily he’d brushed it all off, how he’d said friends. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it, not really. He’d just wanted to get it out of the way. And he’s so confident, so sure of what he wants, and if he wanted you… then he would have gone after you by now.

You know he would have.

So you smile and say, “Are you a naval aviator?”

Jason seems surprised by that, but he nods his head. “Yes, Ma’am. Just graduated Top Gun a few weeks ago.”

“Oh no,” you say. “That’s not good.”

Jason laughs. “Not the reaction I usually get. Are you not a big fan of pilots, then?”

“Not particularly,” you say. “I don’t think they’re good for my mental health. Or the environment.” 

And then he laughs, and his dimple distracts you, and it’s light and not heavy, and it feels simple in a way you’ve been missing.

So you let him buy you a drink. And you let him flirt with you. And you try, try, try your best to forget about the anxiety gnawing at your bones, about the voice telling you it’s wrong, about everything that’s holding you back.

You just want to be normal. You just want to have fun. You just want to be free of the ghosts haunting you.

And in a way, it’s easy. Jason isn’t aggressive like Jake was, isn’t so handsome it seems like a miracle he’s even looking at you. He’s nice and funny and a little bit boring, and that’s good, boring is good because boring is normal, it’s trivial, it’s safe.

Hesitantly, you place a hand on Jason’s arm and bask in the way it feels when he smiles at you.

And then the intrusive thought comes, unbidden, unstoppable, bleak: If Jake were here…

You banish the idea as soon as it crops up.

It was nothing.

If Jake were here, he would not care.

+

Jake is having an aneurism.

That’s the only logical explanation for any of this. He feels like somebody is peeling his skin off like he’s an orange.

“Yo, Hangman!” 

A hand starts wiping up and down through the air right in front of him rapidly, and Jake blinks against the blur of colors it leaves on his vision.

“There you are, dude,” Payback says, laughing. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for like 5 minutes.”

“Yeah, well,” Jake mutters, turning back to his friends. “You’re just not that interesting, Payback.”

Way less interesting than that scene unfolding near the bar, at least. But also decidedly less prone to provoke Jake into committing arson, so probably the safer choice.

“What are you looking at anyway?” Payback inquires, getting on his tippy-toes to look across everybody else’s heads.

Jake just manages to catch him by a shoulder and force him in the opposite direction. The last thing he needs is to get shit for this, too. He’s already got enough to deal with by just trying to untangle the thicket of his own emotions.

“I’m looking for Bob. We shouldn’t leave minors unaccompanied,” he lies, forcing a nonchalance he doesn’t feel into his voice.

From where she is leaning against the vintage Pacman machine, Phoenix gives him a look like she isn’t buying anything that he’s putting down. But she doesn’t point it out, and Jake sort of feels like weeping in gratitude.

He takes a seat at the table next to Coyote and starts playing with the label on his beer bottle, mainly so he doesn’t feel the urge to start looking for you in the mess of the crowd again. The paper is soaked through by the condensation, crumbling into tiny balls that stick between his fingers when he rubs too hard.

“So, day after tomorrow, huh?” Fanboy says. “Gonna know our fate. You nervous, Hangman?”

The worst part is, Hangman - Hangman, of all people, whose life for the past ten years has revolved around little more than the Navy, than his plane, than his performance up in the air - has pretty much forgotten that the day after tomorrow they’d announce who was about to go on the mission that could potentially become the most important of his career. It’s just that there are much more imminent, pressing things happening right here, right now. Like some dude chatting you up with what are probably the sleaziest lines you’ve ever heard just a few steps away.

He clears his throat. “Why would I be nervous?” he asks, but it lacks his usual edge. “I’m going anyways, no question about it.”

“I don’t know,” Rooster interjects. “You’ve been flying sort of shitty the past week.”

Jake’s fingers clench around the neck of the bottle.

“No shittier than you, Bradshaw. You fly like you’re trying to let senior citizens pass through traffic.”

Payback frowns. “You okay, Hang? That barely made any sense.”

Truthfully, Jake is so distracted he can’t even concentrate enough to come up with something that’ll really piss Rooster off. Not when you’re right there, and he’s not the one making you laugh. Not when he asked you to be friends while really all he can think about is you underneath him with that glazed look in your eyes he’s put there once before, you moaning his name, you in his shirt, you with your mouth wrapped around his…

“Hangman!” That’s Phoenix, now sitting next to Rooster, looking like she’s about an inch from slapping him over the head with her beer bottle. “I asked you a question.”

“Huh?”

Everybody’s staring at him. He’s still trying not to look at the bar.

“I said,” Phoenix repeats, speaking deliberately slow like she’s scared he won’t understand otherwise, “that I don’t want to see any physical fights. So we’re all going to accept the decision tomorrow. Get it, Bagman?”

He shrugs. Right now, he’s so decidedly uninterested in who goes on that mission he can’t imagine even getting upset about it.

“Fine by me,” he mutters and moves to take a sip of his beer. Only, when he tips his head back, it brings the bar right into his line of sight.

And there you are, sitting almost in the exact same spot you were the very first night he approached you. Back in one of those dresses, the ones that drive him insane, the ones playing much more prominent roles in his late-night fantasies than he’d ever like to admit. Legs crossed primly and tucked to the side, all that smooth, soft skin, and Jake can’t stop himself, can’t not imagine getting to run his mouth down the line of that leg, can’t not imagine taking that dress off you, can’t not imagine making you whimper for him, again and again and…

A pale hand lands on the small of your back, just half an inch from where the dress drops low to expose that skin he was just thinking about, and Jake feels like somebody sucker-punched him.

“Okay, somebody switch seats with me right now,” he says, and his voice has climbed to unprecedented heights. It just bursts out of him.

It startles Bob so much he almost drops his beer. Liquid goes sloshing all over Coyote’s lap, who yelps, jumps up, and dumps half his whiskey over Payback in the process. In the ensuing mayhem, everybody seems to forget about the culprit.

Everybody. Everybody, except Phoenix.

She looks at him with the sort of knowing, accusatory eyes that make him think he should be on his knees begging for forgiveness or something.

Discomfort makes him shift his weight in his seat.

And then a hand ghosts over his shoulder, fingernails painted a delicate pink, and for a second, he hopes, thinks he’s going to turn around and find you there, smiling at him, eyes shining, but it’s a different face that greets him. His heart, soaring for a moment, plummets to the ground.

He’s seen the girl around the bar a few times before. She’s pretty. The type he’d go for usually, the kind of pretty thing he’d fuck and leave and never think about again.

“Hi,” she says, smiling in a way that makes the corners of her painted mouth curl up like the lower half of a heart. “I’ve seen you around. Can I buy you a drink?”

It’s the sort of straightforward behavior he prefers usually. Hangman has never been much for playing it coy, for insecurity. He likes someone who goes after what they want, who knows what they want. At least he’s always thought he did.

For a second, he can see it: a little bit of flirting, some coy touches, letting her take him home, getting his rocks off, then disappearing forever.

But his heart just isn’t in it. The whole thing feels empty. Useless. Wrong.

So he shrugs her hand off, gives her a polite smile, and says, “Maybe some other time.”

The girl is drunk enough that she doesn’t care much, just shrugs and saunters off to find someone more accepting of her advances.

When Jake turns to face his friends again, Coyote is gaping at him with his mouth hanging open.

“What?” Jake asks, for the first time in his life actually uncomfortable with the amount of attention he’s receiving.

“Are you like… sick?”

“Why?”

“Cause you just…” Payback looks seriously concerned. “You just turned down a pretty girl, man. Are you feeling okay?”

And that’s when Jake realizes what just happened. With a dawning sort of horror, he sets his bottle down on the table and stares at the condensation rings, the crumpled napkins, the half-eaten bowl of peanuts. His head is spinning.

So, like… what the fuck?

Since Jake finally got to move out of his parent’s house, since he got out from under the gaze of his father - always judging, always finding him lacking - since he joined the Navy and found out that he’s one of the most talented pilots they’ve ever had, he’s had a pretty good idea of who he is.

Arrogant, sure. Cocky, even. Abrasive, at times, calculated, cunning. But with enough skill to back all of it up a hundred times. He knows he’s handsome, knows he can get any girl he wants, and he enjoys that. Basks in it. Based half his personality on it.

So Hangman knows who he is. Knew it perfectly well, right up until the moment he met you.

And just like that, he’s going not just after an inexperienced girl but a girl who might not even like him, and he keeps telling himself it’s just about the chase, just because you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, and there’s something exciting about getting someone who doesn’t make it easy, but it’s starting to sound like a bad excuse, because then why did he ask you to be friends just so he could stay close to you, why did he tell you things he’s never told a soul, why did he feel like the earth was shattering beneath him when you said he was a good pilot? Why can’t he stop thinking of you?

“Hangman, are you having a stroke?” 

Even Rooster sounds genuinely concerned, but Jake doesn’t hear him. Not really, at least.

Because up at the bar, the guy has leaned in even closer, leaned all the way into your space (and Jake just knows he stinks of beer and sweat, and his palms are probably damp where he’s groping your waist), and is whispering something into your ear and you’re giggling, and Jake sees full-on, deep, deep scarlet.

He’s out of his seat before he can register it, halfway through the bar before he remembers moving. Elbowing people out of the way and probably spilling more than one drink in his path. He doesn’t care. In fact, he doesn’t even notice.

All his attention is laser-focused on you and all the places that dirtbag is touching you.

“Alright,” he says much too forcefully when he finally reaches the bar and slaps his hands onto the countertop with a noise so loud it almost has you jumping out of your seat. “I think I told Penny all her drinks are on my tab. Like perpetually. Eternally. Whatever, pick one.”

The poor, unassuming bartender stares at him. “I… Who are you, Sir, like I…?”

Jake ignores him. He turns to face you and the douchebag, both of you staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Hi,” he says, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. Now he’s a little concerned his smile might look like a serial killer about to woo his newest victim.

“Uhm,” you say slowly, glancing at the guy behind you, “Hangman….”

“Sweetheart,” he interrupts before you can even get out a complete sentence, “I told you you can call me Jake.”

You pause. Then you start again, “Jake….”

“I don’t think we’ve met.” He leans around you, offering a hand. “I’m Hangman.”

The guy blinks. “Yeah, hi. Jason. Nice to meet you.”

Jake nods, shakes his hand, then turns to you. Bends down to press a kiss to your cheek, lingers for too long. Draws back and basks in the stunned look on your face, the wide eyes, just for a moment.

“You sleep well after last night?” he asks. “You must have been exhausted.”

And he’s laying it on thick, he knows he is. Leaves his hand resting on your shoulder for too long, lets his thumb stroke over your collarbone in a slow, drawn-out movement just for the hell of it.

He can’t explain it. It’s just… it’s just that he can’t forget the guy’s hands all over you. It’s just that he can’t forget your face last night, bathed in the moonlight, your laughter that made him think his chest was caving in. It’s just that he feels if somebody else makes you laugh like that, he may never be happy again.

“I don’t…” You blink up at him, face almost entirely blank. “What?”

One of his hands lands on your thigh, just above the knee, half on the fabric of your dress, half on the warm skin of your leg. And it’s pushing it, he knows that, but it’s not like he decided to touch you. It’s more of an instinct, a reassurance to himself. You’re there. You haven’t left.

Not yet, anyway.

He can see the way Jason looks at you. He knows that look, knows exactly what he wants to do, and it lights a fire inside of him, something pathetic and possessive and uncalled for.

And all he can think is: That guy won’t treat you right, I can do it better, I know what you like, I know it, I see it, I know you…

But apart from his own ego, apart from the cocky part of him that knows he’s got you pegged, knows he could set you off and have you coming on his tongue, his fingers, his cock quicker than you could make sense of, there’s something else there too. A strange, unfamiliar protectiveness. Something that makes him think: What if this guy hurts you?

Not because you’re fragile, not because you don’t know yourself, but because Jake knows you. Has seen you. 

Knows this runs deeper than anything else, even if he doesn’t know what that means. Even if it scares him shitless.

He can’t let some other guy take you home. He just can’t.

“Hangman,” Jason says, leaning across you and giving Jake a small, almost shy smile. “Man, you’re a legend.”

“I…” Jake was prepared to hit him with something else bordering on rude, but this throws him for a loop. “What?”

“At Top Gun. Everybody talks about you all the time. It’s an honor to meet you.” 

The guy’s eyes are positively glowing, his cheeks ruddy with alcohol and excitement. Jake, who was hellbent on hating him, suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

Between them, you’ve gone very still.

“Oh,” Jake says, “well…”

“I’m sorry, by the way.” The guy - boy, some spiteful part of Jake things - gestures in your general direction. For a second, Jake feels indignant on your behalf before he realizes he’s the one responsible for this. “I didn’t realize this was your girl. Backing up right away. Sorry.”

With raised hands, he disappears into the crowd, blending seamlessly into the sea of uniforms.

Jake’s triumph is short-lived.

You’ve slid half out of your seat, gathering your bag from where you’ve draped it over the back of the chair by the strap.

“Where are you going, sweetheart?” he asks, reaching out to help you but withdrawing his hands immediately when you whirl to face him.

There’s something on your face, something he’s never seen before, and with his stomach dropping down to his knees, he wonders suddenly and belatedly if he may have miscalculated severely.

That night at the bar, when you’d walked up to him and told him to leave you alone, it had been a little like somebody had pulled the ground right from beneath his feet. Like that magic trick with the tablecloth, only this one had been bad and botched and bungled, all the china and the glasses and the cutlery falling and smashing.

And yet the way you’d looked at him… He could have sworn you weren’t telling the truth. 

Jake isn’t dumb, fuck what Phoenix says, and he’s been with enough girls to recognize desire when he sees it. So he was almost entirely sure you were lying when you told him to leave you alone.

But then… what if that had just been his own hope? Building nothing into something. Wanting you to want him the same way he wants you.

In the end, what he thought you wanted didn’t matter. All he had to go off were your words, and those were clear enough. The choice needed to be yours, or it meant nothing.

And Jake was a lot - bastard, asshole, fuckboy - but he wasn’t going to push you into something you didn’t want. Never.

So he’d let up. He’d listened to you. He’d tried to pull back. Even as it had hurt him in a way he could not explain. Even as it had broken him apart.

And then Maverick and Penny had to meddle, and he’d gotten to know you in a way he hadn’t planned for at all. Had learned that he didn’t just want you, he liked you. Wanted to keep listening to you as you rambled on and on in intelligible loops about books you liked. Wanted to read them, wanted to talk to you about them. Wanted to make those dreams come true: buy you that house with the blue door, give you that dog.

He can’t understand it. He can’t explain it. All he knows is he wants to be close to you.

But with the way you’re looking at him right now, pure, unadulterated anger on your face, he realizes you might not feel the same way at all.

“What the fuck, Hangman?”

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused. “What did I do?”

This is not his day at all. Or his week. In fact, he’s not sure it has been his month.

You frown at him for a moment, completely silent, and it unsettles Jake in a way he can’t explain. 

He’s always known who he is, has been so sure of it, but now, with you… It’s like you make him question everything.

“I’m going home,” you say, pushing past him and heading for the door.

He’s too dazed to move for a moment, and then he’s chasing after you, trying to recapture his earlier speed but failing. It’s gotten even more crowded in here, every available inch of space occupied with sweaty bodies. He calls your name, but you don’t turn.

By the time he catches up to you, you’re out in the parking lot.

“Sweetheart!” he calls.

You whirl on him with a murderous expression on your face. He stops dead in his tracks.

“Don’t call me that,” you say. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Since you first met, the two of you have been exchanging sharp remarks. You have teased, you have taunted, you have circled around each other like wild cats around prey. Always toeing the line between flirting and fighting. Always toeing the line between foreplay and sparring. A tightrope act.

But this tips the scales decidedly. There’s nothing coquettish about it, nothing good-natured. The words have teeth, have fangs, have claws. They sink into his heart with perfect precision.

“I…” he begins, but you don’t let him finish.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I was…” He clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. Tries to grin but thinks it might end up as more of a grimace. “I was saying hello.”

You shake your head before he’s finished his sentence. “No, you weren’t. You were ruining my night. You always… you always have to ruin my nights.”

And wow. Okay. That one hurt.

“I just…” Jake realizes he might have to explain this to you. Or at least attempt to, since he doesn’t even know what his explanation would be. “That’s not a good guy.”

You glance back at the bar, and an incredulous expression spreads across your face. 

“That?” you repeat, voice rising. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah!”

“You don’t even know him.”

“You don’t either!”

“So? I wasn’t… I wasn’t about to marry him.”

Jake’s chest feels tight. He’s breathless when he asks, “What were you going to do with him, then?”

“I was…” You shake your head suddenly, breaking off halfway through the sentence, changing course. “That’s none of your business!”

“Yeah, it is!” he protests, but he knows he’s in the wrong. Still, he can’t stop himself. “He’s not a good guy.”

“Oh my god!” You throw your hands into the air, and he’s never seen you so upset. Everything that came before now seems only like a crude imitation. This, though… this is true, genuine anger. “Stop it. He’s… he’s just a cocky pilot, you’re not that different….”

Somehow, the comparison has Jake clenching his teeth. He amends, “He’s not good for you, then.”

For a moment, your face goes slack, and he knows he’s just said the wrong thing.

“That is notyour decision,” you say, voice suddenly quiet and all the more dangerous for it. “That’s no one’s decision but my own.”

And God, if Jake doesn’t know that. 

You’ll always make your own choices. He hasn’t had a shred of an illusion to the opposite even for a moment, hasn’t even wanted it any other way. You will always go your own way.

You’re so much stronger than you realize. Going on after losing your mother. Giving up a whole life. Starting over a million miles away without family, without friends, without anything but yourself.

It’s what he admires. It’s what drives him insane.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he says because it’s the truth. “You’re my friend.”

Something on your face shatters. 

“Friend,” you whisper dispassionately. “Sure.”

You rub your hand over your face, and suddenly you look so tired. All he wants is to wrap you in his arms, tug you closer, take you home. Make sure you’re okay.

“Hangman,” you say softly, almost gently. “I think this was a mistake. I don’t think I can be your friend.”

And it’s fear coursing through him. Naked, unmistakable fear.

If he can’t see you again, what will he do? This new Jake, the one who’s unsure about everything unless he’s right next to you, that new Jake… what will he do?

How can he go back to how he used to be when it’s like slipping into a costume that doesn’t fit anymore?

“My name is Jake,” he says because he doesn’t know what else to do. Because he needs to hear you say it. “I want you to call me Jake.”

“Stop it!” Your voice is louder again, an edge of desperation creeping into it. “Everybody else calls you Hangman, who cares if I….”

“You’re not everybody else!” It just… slips out. And then it’s out in the open, and he can’t believe he said it, doesn’t know where it came from, only knows that it’s the truth. “Not to me.”

You’re staring at him. Chest rising and falling rapidly, fingers tangled in the straps of your bag.

And you’re so beautiful, even in this empty parking lot, even in the unflattering light of the street lamps. Even with the sweat pooling at your hairline and the anger in your eyes.

“Hangman,” you say, “don’t.”

But he’s shaking his head. He let you go once, but now… now he has to… he has to…

“You’re special,” he says, even as you’re shaking your head. “You are to me, sweetheart, you are, you….”

“You said it meant nothing,” you blurt out, then shut your mouth with an audible click of your teeth as if you wish you could clamp the words back in somehow.

Jake blinks. “What?”

He can see your throat move as you swallow.

You take a moment, teeth sinking into your lower lip, and then you say, “That night when I told you to leave me alone. You told Coyote that this… thing between us. That it was nothing.”

Jake inhales. Exhales. His mind is blank.

“I… I did?” he asks, words slow, sluggish, like he’s thrusting them forward through the mud.

Your face falls. You say, voice almost a whisper, “You don’t even remember, do you?”

He wants to say no, I do, of course, I do. He wants to protest.

But if there’s one thing he can’t do, it’s lie to you.

Truth is, he doesn’t know at all what he said. The moments after your confrontation in the bar are shrouded in a fog of confusion for him. He was just trying to make sense of what you’d said, untangle the mess of his mind. He was just trying to save face.

It’s not nothing, he should tell you. It was never nothing.

But then, if it’s not nothing… what is it? This thing between us, you’d called it.

Jake doesn’t have an answer. He doesn’t even understand why he can’t just let you go the way he usually does. He could just turn around, go back inside, find some other pretty girl, but something keeps him rooted to the spot.

I think of you when I go to sleep and when I’m touching myself, and I can’t stop thinking about you. I carry you with me up into the plane, into the sky, into the clouds. I want to sit with you in bars and in restaurants and on beaches. I want to hold your hand. I want to kiss you. I want, I want, I want…

There’s pain on your face, something raw, something real.

Jake can’t breathe.

“I’m leaving,” you say, and then you just stand there for a moment, looking at him almost like you expect him to say something.

He seems to have lost all ability to speak. You purse your lips, your eyes waterlogged, and then you turn on your heel and walk to the car.

Jake stands in the gravel of the parking lot until the headlights of your car have faded into the dark of the night. Then he trots back into the bar blindly, finds their now mostly deserted table at the back, and slumps into a chair.

He feels empty.

Phoenix’s face appears in his vision after what could have been five minutes or five hours, almost comically large.

“I think I’m having a heart attack,” Jake says, but his voice sounds like a stranger’s.

Immediately, Phoenix squats down to look at him better. “What?”

He points at his chest, where it feels like a tiger is on a rampage. “It hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“My chest.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then he says, “Phoenix, I think I fucked up. Like… big time.”

Her face goes from mildly annoyed to honestly worried. She asks, a tinge of panic edging into her voice, “Did you drink too much? Hangman?”

He shakes his head. “I think I hurt her. I don’t know, I… I think I fucked it up.”

She searches his face for a moment, and then she’s straightening up, taking Hangman by the arm and pulling him out of his chair. Her grip is like a vice around his wrist, and he yelps.

“Alright,” she says, “you’re coming with me. Now.”

Jake would have protested, but the look Phoenix gives him shuts him right up. If there’s anybody he’s ever met capable of coldblooded homicide, it’s Natasha Trace.

So he lets himself be tugged into the last corner not yet wholly occupied by people past the halfway point to intoxication.

Phoenix lets go of his wrist in favor of stemming her hands into her hips. He’s pretty sure he’ll find bruises on his skin come morning.

“Don’t,” she says.

“Don’t what?” Jake asks, even though he has a pretty sure idea where this is going.

“Don’t… meddle, okay. You had your chance, you blew it. Let her move on.”

“It’s not…” He struggles. “It’s not like that. We’re friends.”

“Friends,” Phoenix repeats. God, she really is capable of violence, he knows it, and she’s not far from resorting to it. “Are you stupid, Hangman?”

He opens his mouth, but she’s already plowing on.

“Friends don’t look at each other like they’re about to rip their clothes off and go at it in crowded bars, Jacob.”

Jacob. The last time somebody called him that was when his mom caught him trying to sneak out of the window at sixteen to go see a band with his first girlfriend. He got grounded for three weeks.

Somehow, he thinks Phoenix won’t be that merciful.

“Like… obviously you have some kind of feelings for her, but….”

He doesn’t even hear the rest of what she says. Her mouth keeps moving, but none of her words reach his ears. All he can hear is a high, whistling noise cutting clean through his eardrums.

“Hold on,” he interrupts, “I don’t have feelings for her.”

Phoenix pauses for a moment, staring at him like he’s trying to convince her the earth is flat.

“Jake,” she says - not Hangman, not Bagman, not even Jacob, and hoooh boy, he’s in for it now - slowly, “don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” he says.

Phoenix blinks. Takes a moment. Another. Then she says, almost carefully, “Jake, you can’t be that stupid. Please tell me you’re not that stupid.”

It’s not the first time she’s called him stupid, but it might be the first time she actually means it.

And Jake would protest, only he feels pretty stupid right about now, too.

“Please…” She touches her forehead like she has a headache and exhales loudly, slowly. “Please tell me you’re not honestly stupid enough not to know.”

“Know what?” Jake asks, and he’s never felt less like himself.

He’s in control of things. He takes risks gladly, but they’re always calculated. Things don’t just… fly under his radar.

But right now, he feels like he missed something profound.

Phoenix looks at him with what could be either pity or actual hatred.

“Jake,” she says, enunciating each word with perfect precision, “you’re in love with her.”

“I don’t know her,” he says, almost automatically, and he’s so dizzy.

Phoenix waves his words away with a quick jerk of her hand. 

“There’s a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone, Jake,” she tells him. “When you’re with her, how do you feel?”

“I feel…” And he can’t believe he’s talking about this, but in a way, it makes sense. Maybe Phoenix is the only person he could ever tell this. Phoenix, who has always seen through him and all his bravado. “When I’m with her, it’s like… like I can just be myself, you know? And I want… I want to know her. Everything about her, even the bad things, but I want her to know me, too. Not just Hangman but… Jake. And I want to… I just want to be with her all the time. I want to tell her about, like, everything, even the little things that I’d never tell somebody else, and I…. When I’m with her, it doesn’t feel like I need to prove anything. It’s like I can just be. I’ve never… never felt that before.”

His voice trails off.

The irritation has bled out of Phoenix’s face, making way for something softer, smoother, something almost tender. She puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Bagman,” she says, voice halfway to affectionate, “you know what that means.”

For a few moments, he just breathes.

And yeah, he does. In a way, maybe he’s known for a while now, at least since the set-up, and he just didn’t want to admit it to himself. That it’s more than just wanting to fuck you. That it’s so much more than nothing. That it’s so much, it scares him.

It wasn’t quick, it wasn’t instantaneous. It crept up on him. You permeated his life in stages, and now you’re everywhere.

At first, he just thought you were pretty, thought he could get into your pants and out of your life in the span of a night. But you gave as good as you got, kept pushing back, and suddenly it was like a personal quest to get you to give in. You looked up at him on the beach behind the Hard Deck through eyes as scared as they were determined, and something shifted. Not profound yet, not significant, but the first domino to drop in a long, long, long line.

And somewhere, at some moment, he could no longer pinpoint, the game he’d played had ended, and he hadn’t even noticed. The last domino had toppled.

It was real now. Real and scary and over.

“I’m in love with her?” he says, almost a question with how his voice rises towards the tail-end of the sentence.

Phoenix nods, smiles gently at him. 

“Oh God,” he says. “Then I�� then I really fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Phoenix agrees through a breathless laugh. “Yeah, I think you really did.”

+

It’s the hottest day of the year, and the aircon at the gas station breaks down.

The heat is unbearable. You stripped off your employee vest hours ago, but it barely helps. The single fan you found in the back oscillates stale air through the room.

You’re counting down the minutes until the end of your shift, until you can drive aimless circles through town just to bask in the cool of your car. Until you can drown in your own self-pity and another family-size serving of pasta and the dark thoughts swirling around you like storm clouds.

Your boss has disappeared into the back room, and it’s only five more minutes until you’re off, so you trek towards the cold drinks section and wonder if you should spend the few extra dollars on an iced tea. When the bell rings, announcing the arrival of a customer, you’re still standing undecided in front of the opened fridge, letting cool air caress your face.

Phoenix is in civilian clothes, her hair released from its tight bun for the first time. It falls in glossy waves down to her shoulder blades as she smiles at you warmly.

“Hi.”

“Oh.” The sight of her makes something in your stomach clench uncomfortably. Couldn’t she have come in five minutes later? You’d have been gone by then. “Hi…”

“Penny said you’d be here.”

You blink. “You… were you looking for me?”

Phoenix nods and steps up to the register to look at the cheap sunglasses on display.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she says casually.

The fear of it all creeps up on you, and then it envelopes you. You’ve been trying and failing to push it to the very back corners of your mind for the past day, keeping your hands busy in hopes it would keep your head idle. Pretending you weren’t constantly replaying last night in your head - the bar, the parking lot, the anger, and the ridiculousness of it all. Jake saying you’re special, and then not even remembering the moment he’d broken your heart. Looking helpless in a way you’d never seen before.

In the rearview mirror, growing rapidly smaller and further until he disappeared completely, Jake looked almost like a little child.

“You and Hangman had a fight,” Phoenix says, and it’s not even a question. Just a statement.

“Yeah,” you agree because it doesn’t feel like there’s much sense in arguing. And no reason to, either.

Phoenix nods and watches as you round the counter. For some reason, you feel it’s not a bad idea to get some distance between you and her for this conversation. The counter is like a barrier.

“Hangman is…” Phoenix hesitates. “Hangman is an idiot.”

“No, he isn’t.” The words are out before you can stop them, and then frustration almost makes you bite your tongue. “He… he’s actually a pretty smart guy.”

Phoenix raises an eyebrow. “I’ve been told you hate him.”

You swallow, look away. Shrug your shoulders. “No, I… I don’t know.”

None of this matters. After last night, you’re never going to see him again.

For a long, long while, Phoenix is silent. And then she says, “He’s in love with you.”

And it should be earth-shattering, world-stops-spinning, music-stars-playing. But they’re just words.

Your heart is racing.

“He…” You shake your head. It’s a cliff, the plummet beneath you, your fingers gripping the edge for dear life. You want to believe her so very, very badly, but your common sense tells you it can’t be true. “He barely knows me.”

“That’s what he said,” she says, chuckling, then shakes her head. “I know, but… you have to understand… This is something special. I mean, this is Hangman we’re talking about… he doesn’t open up to people.”

You think about sitting side by side out on the beach. Sharing secrets before you let the waves carry them out to sea. Spilling your heart into his hands and trusting him with it. Realizing, suddenly, that he had done the same.

“I think…” Phoenix’s voice has gone very gentle. “I think you’re very similar. You and him.”

A week ago, you would have laughed at her. Just five minutes ago, you wouldn’t have believed her. And now…

You fall.

When you think about it, it’s not so far-fetched. Jake, up in those clouds. You, down on the ground. In the end, you’re both lonely. In the end, you’re both afraid.

“Anyway.” She smiles at you and pushes off the register. “I just thought you might want to say goodbye.”

Something inside you stumbles. 

“Goodbye?” you repeat slowly.

“Yeah, we’re shipping out tomorrow morning.”

“Shipping…” Suddenly, it takes tremendous effort to breathe. “What?”

Phoenix pauses, furrows her eyebrows. “Didn’t Jake tell you? About the mission?”

“What mission?”

Phoenix groans, shaking her head. “See, I told you. He really is an idiot.”

+

Jake looks like he didn’t get a wink of sleep. The dark bags beneath his eyes have bloomed into purplish bruising overnight, and he blinks at you almost owlishly.

 “Why weren’t you going to say goodbye?”

That’s the first thing you say to him, and it’s not at all what you were planning in the car on the way here. It slips out the moment you see him, and your voice isn’t firm or strong at all, it’s a small, fragile thing. A teacup teetering on the edge of a moving tray, about to shatter.

He looks at you like you’re an apparition. “How did you get here?”

“It… Phoenix gave me your address.”

Jake has rented a place on the second floor of a modern apartment complex off base. It’s so much nicer than the house you’re living in, with stairs that don’t creak, no mildew in the hallway, and locks that look like they actually work.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, and you sound out of breath. It’s not even because of the stairs you just took two steps at a time. “Why weren’t you?”

Jake exhales audibly, nods once, and opens the door wider. “You wanna come inside?”

Only now do you notice that he’s shirtless, wearing nothing but gray sweatpants slung almost as low as his swim trunks were that day on the beach. Hastily, you snap your eyes away, head already spinning.

You push past him and into the apartment, careful not to touch any of his skin. Who knows what other unhinged things that might drive you to do?

His apartment is neat, tidy, clean, but that doesn’t surprise you much. It’s also obviously a rental, lacking any personal touches except for a few shoes kicked off haphazardly by the door and his Top Gun diploma and plaque displayed on a dresser. Of course Jake travels with those, you think, almost grinning. He’d never miss out on a chance to show off.

There’s an aircon blasting somewhere, and you almost crumble to your feet with gratitude.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asks, heading towards what you suppose to be the kitchen. “I have… water? I’d offer to make you a Mojito, but I don’t think I have any limes. Or any rum. Or any mint, so…”

“Can you…” You falter and watch as he pauses in the doorway, one hand braced against the wood. “Can you just explain it to me?”

His shoulders lift and lower with his breaths. After a moment that feels endless, he turns to face you.

“Explain it to you?”

You nod. “Why you didn’t tell me. Why you weren’t going to say goodbye.”

He shrugs, unperturbed, but there’s something affective to the movement, something almost performative.

“After last night… I didn’t think you wanted to see me again.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You’re shaking your head, jaw clenching. “Why didn’t you tell me before then? That you’re about to go on some, some… stupid top-secret mission, that you might die, that….”

He interrupts you, “I didn’t tell you because it shouldn’t matter. I’m not…”

“Of course it matters!” Your voice is shaking. “It matters! It changes… everything.”

He squints at you. “How could it change anything?”

“It… it changes things because….” You stumble, try to find the words that elude you. “Because I thought we’d have more time.”

“More time?” Something about his voice is almost hopeful. “I thought you… I didn’t think you wanted to see me again.”

He’s right. You didn’t. At least you thought you didn’t. You thought the best thing you could possibly ever do for yourself, for him, was to stay as far away from Jake Seresin as possible. In a change-your-name-and-leave-the-country kind of way.

And then Phoenix walked into that gas station, and losing him had suddenly seemed so real, had gone from a distant fever dream to reality, and you didn’t have much choice anymore. All you wanted was to see him again. All you wanted was for him to call you sweetheart, smile and flirt and tease. Even if it drove you crazy. Even if it was the last time.

“Hangman…” You shake your head, correct yourself, “Jake, I… Do you like me?”

He looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time since you knocked at his door, and something in his expression changes. Without hesitation, without a slither of doubt in his words, he says, “Of course. Of course, I like you.”

You have to sink your fingernails into your palms to keep yourself grounded, to keep yourself from jumping several paces ahead. In your chest, your heart speeds up.

“And not just…” you pause, the word carnally already on your tongue. “It’s not that you just want to fuck me?”

He’s shaking his head before you’ve finished speaking. “No. Not at all. Yeah, sure, that’s what it was about in the beginning, but then… I just… It started changing, and I’d never felt that, and I… I think I got scared.”

“You got scared?” you ask, not unaware of the note of disbelief in your voice. It’s hard to imagine someone like Jake could ever be scared. Someone so confident, so brilliant.

He raises an eyebrow, and it’s a glimpse of the Jake you know, the one who drives you to the brink of insanity, “I’ll take that shock as a compliment.”

It’s a white-hot relief to find that he can still joke with you. That not all of the relationship you’ve built has washed away in the torrent of the last few weeks. 

“It’s just…” You look for a way to explain it. “I don’t know. You just always seemed like you had everything figured out.”

That makes him laugh, and you stare at his face scrunching up, his eyes shining. He says, “I’ve got nothing figured out. I haven’t even figured out what to eat for dinner tonight.”

You laugh. Even through all of it, he can still make you laugh. Even though nothing is resolved, even though you don’t understand any of it, he can always, always make you laugh. Even when you don’t want to. Even back when you still swore you hated him.

Jake settles down, and something darker crosses his expression. When he speaks next, his voice is almost hesitant.

“I’ve never… I’ve just never done something like this?”

“Like this?” you ask softly. 

Neither of you has ever defined this thing between you. You’re scared now, scared he has a different idea about it. Maybe you don’t want to hear his answer, want to live just a moment longer in this fantasy where Phoenix is right, where he likes you, where he wants you the same way you want him.

Carnally, romantically, wholly. Just… all of him. The good, the bad, the worst. The parts that drive you insane with anger and the ones that drive you insane with lust. The way he can break you apart and put you back together.

If he calls you his friend again now, if he says it was nothing… You don’t know if you can handle it. You don’t know that you won’t just break apart.

“Like this,” Jake repeats. “Something real.”

And your heart soars.

“Real?” you whisper, voice so quiet you think he can’t possibly have heard it.

Jake nods. “Real.”

“So it…” You trail off, shake your head, try again, “So it wasn’t nothing?”

He lets out a breathy, quiet laugh. And there’s none of his bravado, none of his cockiness. The armor is discarded, the mask is off, and there’s just Jake beneath it, not some hotshot pilot who’s got it all figured out, but a man, one who’s a dumbass at times and broken in so many ways and just as scared as you are.

You’ve never felt the way you feel about him before. Not once in your life.

“No,” he says, “it was never nothing to me. I’m sorry I said that. I know I hurt you, and it’s not an excuse, but I just… I just said it because I got scared. Because you dumped me, and honestly, I was hurt, and I liked you so much, I didn’t know what to do with myself, and I had all of these doubts, and I didn’t understand it, but… It was never nothing, sweetheart. It was… everything.”

He shrugs, something on his face that tells you he’s embarrassed by his own earnestness, uncomfortable with it, but your ears are ringing with that word. You can’t stop the smile from spreading on your face - broad and genuine and a relief after all these days in that prison of your room. Like stepping into the light after all the darkness. Like setting foot into airconditioned climates after hours out in the Californian heat.

And Jake smiles back, like a reflex, like a magnet. If you move, I move.

He’s made a step, and now it’s your turn.

So gather all your courage, that slithery, dodgy thing that’s been eluding you for months, and you grab it by the neck and thrust it forward, say, “Jake, I think I’m in love with you.”

His face goes completely blank, and with a sudden, horrid lurch, you think that maybe you’ve miscalculated, maybe it’s too much, maybe…

You backpedal, “I know it’s way too early, and I don’t really know you, and maybe in a month I find out you don’t like peanut butter, and I can never speak to you again, but this has never happened to me before, Jake, and I’m terrified, I’m so scared, but I just know I wanna be with you, I wanna figure it out together, and I hope you feel the same way, because, because I… I think I…”

“I like peanut butter,” Jake interrupts you. When you blink at him through the haze your rambling has plunged you into, he’s grinning from ear to ear. The sort of grin you have never seen him give to anyone but you.

“You.. you do?”

“A lot,” he confirms.

“Well, that’s… good then.”

“In fact,” he says, moving closer to you, “I love peanut butter.”

“Yeah?” 

Your voice is a little breathless.

He nods, hands going to cup your face. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, as you tip your face up, as your heart pounds, as your vision blurs, “I think I might be in love with you, too.”

And you don’t want to start crying, but you can’t help it. They just well up, like all those emotions you’ve been swallowing down for months now, longer than you’ve known him really, have finally ballooned into something too big for your body to hold, looking for any way out.

Jake frowns, wiping at a teardrop from your cheek like he’s trying to get an annoying stain off his laptop screen. Only like… a little gentler.

“It’s not that horrible, is it?”

You laugh, a water, bubbling sound. “No, it’s… it’s not… it’s fine.”

“Fine?” he asks, looking down at you with his eyebrows raised way too high for it to be anything than exaggerated. “I confess my love, and you think it’s fine? Jesus, romance really is dead.”

“Oh, shut up and kiss me already, Bagman, or I’m gonna strangle you, I swear I will, I’m not….”

You don’t get to finish.

Kissing Jake isn’t at all like you imagined. He’s soft but firm, and yet you can tell, underneath it all, that he’s almost nervous. Unsure. Like he doesn’t know at all how to proceed now that it’s actually real. That it means something.

All that cockiness melted away.

It’s so strange, but suddenly you realize that maybe, just for a moment, you’re going to have to take over. So you wrap your arms around his waist, draw him closer, draw him in, open your mouth beneath his and sigh into it all.

Jake comes willingly, follows your pace easily, smoothly, casually. The way he does everything. Ready to take anything you throw his way.

Finally, something inside of you seems to whisper. There’s an ache, a yearning, something that swells inside of you, grows bigger and stronger by the minute. You’ve never wanted someone this bad. It’s finally happening.

All that waiting, all that wishing and hoping and dreaming… It was worth it, you think. All of it.

His hands are warm on your cheeks, and they feel large, in a way that makes you clench your thighs. His lips are a little chapped, but he tastes sweet as if he’s been eating chocolate. He angles your face back a little more, his tongue running along the seam of your mouth, his fingers clenching into your hair, and your heart seizes as you think, suddenly, how close you came to losing this, to never having it at all, to missing out on it, and it’s so… it’s so…

You pull back when the intrusive thought inserts itself into the moment, when the anxiety makes your bones itch, look at him and say in a voice that seems to come from miles, worlds, universes away, “You’re not going to die, are you?”

It’s all you can think about - your mother fading away, flowers raining on an open grave, and being alone, alone, alone…

But Jake just smiles, rubs his thumb once along the line of your cheekbone, and says, “And miss out on getting to kiss you, sweetheart? Not a chance.”

And you haven’t belonged anywhere in so long. Have been so lonely, so broken, for so long you thought you’d never feel any different again. But here, right now, with him solid before you, with the knowledge that it’s real, it’s true, it’s not a game, and it’s not in your head, it doesn’t feel so horrible.

Because Jake knows you. Not just the pretty parts, but the ugly ones too.

How you push people away. How your fear paralyzes you sometimes, makes you mean and closed-off, and makes you lie. To him, to yourself, to everyone.

Jake has seen it, and he’s wanted you regardless.

And maybe that’s just it… how he can calm that anxiety with a word. Not banish it, not erase it, but silence that nagging, gnawing, horrible voice you’ve carried with you for so long. Make it bearable.

You’re going to die if you don’t have him. And yeah, maybe that’s dramatic, but who cares? If the past few weeks have shown anything, it’s that you and Jake aren’t just good with the dramatics… you excel at them.

“I did it,” you blurt out, and then immediately regret the words, clamp your mouth shut and feel the blood rush up into your cheeks.

Jake draws back a little to get a better look at you. “Done what?”

And you could kiss him for taking it all in stride. For not pushing you, for letting you set the pace.

Actually, you could kiss him just for… well, existing. But his ego is big enough already; he really doesn’t need to know all that.

“Well, what… what you asked.”

Jake stares at you blankly. 

“Care to be a little more specific, sweetheart?” he says gently. “I think we’ve established I don’t have the best memory.”

“I…” You hesitate, fingers going to trace a constellation of freckles on his shoulder, and there’s just so much of him, so much golden skin and so much muscle and so much confidence, and you’re going to fall apart, you know you are, you’re not going to survive this. “I touched myself. The way you asked.”

Your voice is barely more than a whisper, an exhale, but you know he heard you. Because the reaction is visceral - fingers tightening where they have slid from your face to your waist, chest undulating with the sharp intake of breath, shoulders stiffening.

Nerves make it impossible to look at him. What if he doesn’t like it, what if…

But, as always, somehow, Jake seems to know what you need. Seems to understand without ever having to say it that now, you want this to be something else. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, fingers hooking beneath your chin and turning it upwards, “look at me.”

And you do. It’s not like you have a choice, your body reacting before your mind even registers the words.

Right now, you think, Jake could tell you to jump off a bridge, and you’d go find the nearest one for a dive.

Somehow, his eyes have gone darker, hodded, an intent shining in them that scares you as much as it excites you.

“You touched yourself?” he asks quietly.

You nod, too scared your voice might fail you to try and use it.

“So, are you ready to answer my question, then?”

You know what he means right away, which is just a testament to your memory being decidedly better than his.

Instantly, the words ghost through your mind again, wrap around you like vapor. Have you been a good girl?

“I don’t…” You clear your throat as Jake steps even closer, walks you backward until your back hits the wall, until his hips are inches from yours, until he’s crowding against you like he wants to climb into your skin. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He’s so close now, and it’s different, the whole air is different. Charged now, darker. Hot even with the aircon running.

Maybe you’re going to faint. You feel like you’re going to faint.

“I think,” Jake says, voice lowered into a mumble, “you know exactly what I mean.”

He braces both hands on the wall by your head and cages you in. It’s so reminiscent of the night out behind the shack that you would have laughed if you hadn’t been scared to move even a muscle.

Not trusting your voice, you just shake your head. And it’s an act because by now, even you have understood that that’s half the fun in this game of power Jake and you have been playing from the very moment. But you also just want to hear him say it again, have been dreaming of those words on his lips for weeks now.

Jake hums, and his breath washes over your face. There’s barely an inch between the two of you now - you can’t even think anymore.

“I know you’re smarter than that, sweetheart.”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He smiles, just for a moment, and it’s sweet, a little dopey, and so decidedly out of place that you realize he knows just as well as you do that you’re pretending. That he appreciates it as much as you do.

“Alright,” he whispers finally, leans closer to run his mouth over the arch of your jaw, lips barely a whisper of a touch as you strain into it, breath catching in your throat. “Sweetheart… have you been a good girl for me?”

It’s the rasp in his voice and those words and the agonizing whisper of separation between your bodies. It’s the lack and the promise and that tight, hot coil of want that writhes in the pit of your stomach.

With a gasp, you clench your thighs together in search of relief.

“I don’t know,” you say because, truthfully, you don’t. You don’t even know your own name anymore.

Jake raises an eyebrow, and all your pretense shatters.

“Yes,” you say, immediately, voice almost a whine, head spinning, “yes, Jake, I’ve been a good girl for you.”

He acknowledges it with a nod, entirely unaffected, face blank as he moves to card a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What did you think about?”

He asks it almost casually like he’s asking about the weather or your shopping list and not just which sexual fantasies you got out of the spank bank the last time you got off.

“I…” And his hand begins tracing a long, long line from your cheekbone down to your mouth, dragging across your jaw and onto your jugular. And there, just once, he presses his thumb into your pulse point. It’s the barest hint of pressure, the illusion of the rest of his fingers wrapping around your throat, but your eyes almost roll into the back of your head. 

It draws the truth right out of you.

“You,” you gasp, “I thought about you.”

Jake acknowledges it with a nod, but there’s something to be said about his eyes flicking to your mouth, about the hand still braced against the wall by your head clenching.

“What part of me?”

You want to answer, but he leans forward to press his lips to the side of your throat where his hand had been just a moment ago, and for a second, you lose all ability to speak.

“I… Your mouth?”

“My mouth?” Jake repeats, words muffled against your skin.

Pressed flat against the wall, unable to move, with your heart pounding a patter against your ribcage, you can do nothing but nod. “Yeah.”

Jake hums, and the sound vibrates through your body. By now, you must be soaking through the front of your shorts, you think.

“And where did I put it?” he asks softly, drawing back to look at you.

And there’s such… hunger on his face, his pupils blown wide, his mouth slack, and it’s going to kill you, death on impact, you’re not going to make it.

But that’s fine. What a way to go, anyway.

“On… on me,” you whisper.

Jake laughs, and it’s so… mean. You like it.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he drawls. “Be specific.”

“I don’t know.” 

It’s all you can say. Who cares what you thought about that night? He’s here right now, so can’t you just do it for real instead of talking about your fantasy like this?

Jake clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“You can do better than that,” he says. “You’re not that dumb.”

And it could be crossing a line - should cross a line, maybe. You never would have thought it possible that you could be into something like this, but you are. It sets you off in a way you wouldn’t have expected, makes you weak in the knees and dizzy, and you want him on you, want him everywhere, want him more than you’ve ever wanted him before.

Besides… you feel pretty dumb right about now.

When it came down to the wire, you know you’re the one with the finger on the lever anyway. The moment you say no, stop, he’ll listen. So you’ve always been the one with the final decision.

Maybe that’s why this whole thing works.

“I…” You have to close your eyes, swallow against the lump in your throat. “You put it between my legs.”

He squints.

“Here?” he asks, and his hand lands on the inside of your thigh, about two inches off from where you want him.

It startles you enough that you jump, a sound of surprise falling from your mouth. And then he applies pressure, squeezes the meat of your thigh once, and you’re moaning, eyes widening with the sensation of it all.

Jake grins.

Bastard, you think, but then that thought goes out the window too, disappears in the fog that has descended on you.

“You imagined my mouth here?”

You shake your head, whimper, tip your face back and open your mouth like you can compel him to kiss you just like that.

“Be a good girl and tell me, yeah?” he whispers, but there’s something strained to his voice, something glazed to his eyes.

“No, I…” But you can’t say it. Not like this. It’s still too much, and it frustrates you, makes your eyes burn, makes your breath hitch into a gasp like you can’t get enough oxygen into your lungs. You whimper, “Jake.”

“Shh,” he whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek. “I got you, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

And then finally, because in the end, he always does, Jake takes pity on you.

“Did I put it on your pussy?”

The sound that escapes you is pathetic, barely more than a whimper, and before you know it, you’re nodding as you slump against him.

“Tell me,” he says into your ear, hand still on your thigh, mouth still against your cheek, his breaths fast and loud, “I want her you say it.”

And if you weren’t sandwiched between him and the wall, if he weren’t holding you up, you know your legs would have given out.

“You…” You swallow and take a deep breath, stell yourself, say, “You put your mouth on my pussy.”

And he groans, a loud, sudden sound that seems to burst from him unbidden like he just couldn’t hold it back. 

You’re almost stunned by it, by the discovery that he’s just as affected by all this as you are, that he wants you, too, and it does your head in, makes the world spin, makes you clutch at him a little tighter.

“You like that?” he asks, something almost frantic to his words now. “Having your pussy eaten? Does that get you off, having a tongue in your tight little cunt?”

You can’t help it. You mewl, drop your head into the crook of his neck, and wish you could stay there. And you’re so wet, can feel it pooling in your panties, feel it soaking through the fabric. Every move has the seam of your denim shorts pressing against your cunt, sends shocks of lightning through you, but it’s not enough, not enough, never enough.

Your heart is beating in your throat, and the embarrassment takes a moment to set in amidst the chaos of your sensations, but it comes. Eventually, the way it always does.

“I…” You falter, squeeze your eyes shut, push your face further into his neck, so grateful he can’t see you, and then you whisper, as if speaking it out loud could somehow make it more real, “I’ve never… you know… no one’s ever….” 

Instantaneously, Jake’s fingers tighten against your thigh, and then they tangle in your hair, and he pulls your head back with enough force that you can feel it, that it travels in shock waves through your scalp, all the way down to your toes.

He’s looking at you like he wants to devour you.

“Honey,” he says, and there’s something serious to the word beneath all that desire.

And you have trouble concentrating because honey, he called me honey, and your chest is so full of that feeling you only get with him, the one that makes you feel that everything will be alright, that nothing will hurt you, that you’ll be just fine.

“Honey,” he repeats, “do you trust me?”

And you don’t pause. Don’t think about it. Not even for an instant.

“Yes,” you say, and mean it. Mean it like you’ve never meant anything.

And Jake smiles, smooths your hair back, rubs his nose against yours. And then he said, “Would you let me? Would you let me put my mouth on you, would you let me eat your pussy until your legs are shaking? Would you trust me with that, my gorgeous, gorgeous girl?”

You’re going to disintegrate. It can’t be possible for one person to want another so much. It just can’t be possible.

“Yes,” you exhale. “Okay. Jake.”

He makes a choked sound, and then he steps back suddenly, tugging you with him by your wrists, and you stumble against his chest, let him guide you through the apartment blindly. It’s a wonder your knees don’t give in as you stumble against him like a fawn, as he pulls you like a ragdoll.

“Where are we going?” you ask, head spinning in rapid circles. Like you just got off a merry-go-round.

“I’m not going to eat you out against a wall for the first time,” Jake says.

And it would be almost romantic if it weren’t so filthy, such a quick turn-around that it could give you whiplash.

“Oh.” You blink as he pulls you into his bedroom. “I thought the wall was sort of hot.”

He laughs. “Don’t I know it?”

But then he turns, lets go of your wrists, leans down to press a quick, soft kiss to your mouth that leaves you chasing after him.

Affectionately, he brushes his fingers over your cheek and says, “I’ll do it right, honey, I promise I’ll make it so good, you’ll wonder how you ever went without it. I’ll have you coming for days.”

The thing is… you don’t even doubt it.

Jake has always been able to back up all that talk. It’s one of the things you hate about him. It’s one of the things you love about him.

“Now,” he says, “take off your top.”

It’s so much harder when he makes you do things because that’s when the anxiety gets behind the wheel, when the doubt creeps in. But in the end, that strange instinct to listen to him, to trust him, always wins out.

You pull your shirt over your head, and you can’t look at him.

“Shorts, too,” he orders and then, almost like an afterthought, adds, “and your bra.”

Your hands are shaking so hard that you struggle with the clasp of the bra, the button on the shorts, but finally, you free yourself of both, and then you’re standing in the middle of his bedroom, naked except for a pair of panties so wet you think you’re probably gonna have to throw them out come morning, and you’re shaking even though you feel like you’re burning up, like a fever in your blood, like a yearning in your bones.

It’s exhilarating and terrifying, and you want to cover yourself, but you can’t move, can’t do anything but stand there as you feel his eyes on you like hot irons, as you stare at the cologne bottles on the dresser.

What if he doesn’t like me? you think, mouth dry. What if I’m ugly.

And then Jake says, “Sweetheart. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

You’re going to cry.

“Now get on the bed and spread your legs so I can get my mouth on that gorgeous cunt.”

You’re going to have a stroke, and then you’re going to cry.

You do as he says, scooting backward on the mattress until you’re far enough up the bed to put your head on one of the pillows. Jake’s sheets are a dark blue, soft cotton, and they smell like him, like his cologne. Cinnamon and spice. The scent wraps around you, envelopes you. You clench around nothing.

If this is what his smell alone does to you, how are you going to survive his mouth on you?

The mattress dips under his weight, but you can’t look at him, keep your head on the ceiling instead. It’s all too much. It’s not nearly enough.

And then his face appears above you, and his smile is almost goofy as he leans to kiss you once, twice, three times. They’re just soft pecks, but you open your mouth and pull him down to you until you’re chest to chest, until you can feel the weight of him.

He slides his tongue into your mouth with a groan, pulls you closer with a hand on your hip. And it’s skin to skin, his palm hot and heavy, and you want him all over you, want to cover yourself in him, every inch. It’s very wet, very warm, too much spit in both your mouths, but you don’t even care, not when his teeth nip at your lower lip, when he pants against you, when it makes you feel like you’re going to fall apart right here, right now.

Finally, you get your hands on him too, on all that skin, let them run across his chest because you’re so drunk on the feeling of it all you forget even to think if you’re allowed to do this. His heart is racing beneath your palm, just as quick as yours is, and that’s a reassuring thought, that he’s affected by it all too.

Jake does something with his tongue, something that has your insides twisting, clenching like a fist, and you moan into his mouth, wrap your legs around his waist and buck your hips up, desperate for some kind of friction, of relief, not above humping him if that’s what it takes.

You feel it immediately - Jake is rock hard against your center, against the quick but firm pressure of your cunt, and it makes you squeak the exact moment it makes him choke.

“Jesus,” he grunts, fingers wrapping around your wrists and pushing them back into the pillow, pulling you off him and forcing you down into the mattress with a force as gentle as it is firm. “Stop distracting me, sweetheart.”

He draws back until he kneels between your legs, looming above you. All the lamps are off, but the blinds aren’t drawn, and moonlight spills like liquid mercury across the bedroom floor, across his skin. Inevitably, you think of that night out on the beach behind the Hard Deck, the light tangled in his hair, a study in blue.

“I think I remember telling you to spread these,” he says casually, tapping a single finger against your kneecap.

You want to tease him, want to say something about how his memory seems to be working pretty well of a sudden, but your brain won’t cooperate.

Instead, you do as you’re told, even as you feel like it might kill you, and spread your legs further.

Immediately, Jake’s eyes go to what lies between them.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice gone husky, “you’re so wet, honey.”

If you look at him, you think your heart is going to fail, so you just keep your eyes on the ceiling. Unlike your own, it’s completely free of water stains, and that’s just about the last coherent thought you have.

Jake leans forward, maneuvering around until his chest is pressed to the mattress, one hand on your thigh, the other spread on the sheets, and then his mouth is on you.

And okay. No more teasing then. Straight to business.

Over the fabric of your panties, his tongue moves against your center, and you can’t do anything but close your eyes, open your mouth even as no sound escapes. He just mouths at you for a moment, inhales deeply like he’s trying to smell you, and the thought sets you off, has you clenching your teeth, curling your toes. Then he presses a kiss to your clit through your cotton, and you’re seeing stars. 

“Oh,” you say, and he laughs, moves away to hook his fingers beneath the elastic of the panties, pulls them off unceremoniously, helps you lift your hips. They become another piece of fabric added to the pile of your clothes when he throws them over his shoulder without looking, eyes focused only on your center.

And then he leans forward, and you’re bracing yourself, steeling yourself, but nothing could ever have prepared you for the first stroke of his tongue through your folds. It has your hips rising, hed rearing back into the pillow, mouth shaping a word that never escapes it.

Jake’s fingers tighten on your thigh, and he moans once, and then he really goes for it. Burying his whole face in it, opening his mouth like he wants to devour you, tongue wet and wide and hot on your cunt, teeth just grazing your clit as he licks broad stripes from your hole up to the apex. He sets a leisured, moderate pace like he’s got all the time in the world, but you’re pretty sure yours is running out. Five more minutes of this, and you’re a goner, and it’s all too much but not enough, and you want to get away at the same time that you want him closer, and your head is spinning, your heart stuttering, your fingers tightening in the sheets.

He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, and you all but keen, fingers flying to his hair, his shoulders, your stomach. You can’t settle, can’t stop jerking, have no control over your own body anymore. All over the place, all over him, mind a mess and heart a mess and body a mess, and you can’t believe nobody’s ever done this to you before, and how have you ever lived without the feeling of Jake’s mouth on your pussy and you’re going to rip your own heart out and…

And then he catches your wrists in one hand, forcing you to look at him where he’s barely lifted his head from between your thighs. And you freeze, all the world narrowing down to nothing but his face, his voice, just him, right there with you.

He says, “I got you. I’m taking care of you, pretty girl.”

Above the sheets, by your hips, he laces his fingers through yours.

When his mouth meets your cunt again, there’s no restraint left. He fucks his tongue inside of you shallowly, your eyes rolling back, your legs straining to spread even further, to the point of pain when your muscles protest, but you need him closer, deeper, harder, and you’re so empty, aching with it. The only thing grounding you are his hands, the only point of you that seems connected to reality as the rest goes floating into space, reduced to nothing but a conduit for pleasure, for want, for yearning.

His tongue goes from your hole to your clit, one hand untangling from your death grip so he can slide a finger into you. He’s gentle about it, careful almost, but there’s no point, you’re so wet he goes without resistance, not an ounce of tension in any of your muscles. You couldn’t tense up if you tried, everything gone liquid and loose and lax. 

And it’s good, so good, so…

Jake pulls off you for a moment, breath panting and hot against you, just to check, “Did you do this too? When you thought about me, did you fuck yourself on your fingers?”

And it takes you a moment because you can’t remember if you have a mouth, can’t remember how to use it, and when you finally do, anyways, your voice is like a foreign sound, something from a different planet.

“I… tried, but it… I can’t… angle’s all wrong, it doesn’t….” He crooks his finger, and you sob, moment of dubious coherency gone, and then there’s only one word left in you. “Jake.”

And he grins, always so cocky, always so sure, adds a second finger, and buries his face into your cunt again. You keen.

It’s so wet, all of it. Your pussy and his tongue and his fingers fucking through it, fucking in with squelching sounds that should be embarrassing but make you burn hotter instead, your bodies slick with sweat, and you’re pretty sure there’s saliva dripping from your mouth, but you can’t stop it, can’t help it, can’t do anything but hold on and take it. Everything he’s giving you.

And you remember your ex trying to finger you in that bedroom covered in Twilight posters, eons ago, nothing but discomfort and awkwardness, and god, if this is what it should have been like that you want a refund, you think you’re owed compensation from the universe because that’s not fair, people were feeling this while you were telling yourself five minutes of rutting against your own finger on your clit was enough to satisfy you?

“You taste so good,” Jake groans into your cunt, “could eat this pretty pussy all day. Could stay right here forever, with my tongue in my gorgeous girl.”

And it’s almost scary, the way it builds, how high it goes, how tight it winds you. The precipice gapes below you.

“Jake,” you whimper, gasp, thrash, “Jake, wait, I’m gonna….”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, pupils blown, cheeks flushed, voice vibrating down into the darkest parts of you. “I’m here, honey, you can let go now, come on, sweetheart, I wanna see, I wanna taste….”

And you’re crying, cheeks and chin and neck wet with the tears, and you feel pathetic, but you can’t help it, free hand going to tangle in his hair, holding where you want him as he moves his fingers just so, grazing something inside you, tongue circling around your clit with just enough speed, just enough pressure.

“Please,” you sob, terrified he’s going to change up, and it’s going to get away from you, terrified he’ll stop. “Please. Please.”

It becomes a mantra, a litany, and then he squeezes your hand and plunges his fingers deep, curls them, and you’re toppling over that edge, hurtling, spinning, falling.

It’s bone-deep. It curls around you, it breaks you apart. A rope snapping. A coil unraveling.

You feel it everywhere, in your core and your toes and your fingers. A tightening and then the breathless, heart-stopping release of it all racing through you. It has you arching off the mattress, fingers tightening in his hair, legs trembling with tremors you can’t control, howling his name.

It seems to go on forever, his fingers fucking you through it, his tongue stroking you through it, and there’s nothing in your head, nothing but that blinding, strung-out pleasure.

Jake just keeps going until you push his head away with force, overstimulated to the point that pain shoots up like tiny pinpricks. You try to close your legs, but he keeps them open.

“I don’t know who those guys who didn’t eat your pussy were, sweetheart,” he says from between your legs, mouth still slick with you, eyes still dark, voice still breathless, hands still on your thighs, “but they must have been the biggest idiots in the history of mankind to miss out on that.”

You can’t answer. You’re afraid you might never be able to speak ever again.

Jake crawls up the bed until he can stretch out beside you, and finally, you can close your legs, draw them up to almost to your stomach and angle them away. You’re still pulsing, clenching around nothing, more exhausted than you’ve ever been.

“You okay, honey?” he asks softly, leaning in to kiss you. You can’t even reciprocate, just stare at him.

“Uhm,” you say.

He laughs at you, and if you could move your arms, you’d hit him. As is, you just blink at him, dazed, confused, still caught up in the intensity of it.

“That good, huh?” He grins like the cat that got the cream and wraps an arm around you, pulls you against him. There’s something reassuring to the feel of him, the slight damp of his skin and the solid muscle against the mush of yourself.

And then, voice suddenly so much softer, he says, “You did so well, honey. My best girl.”

Maybe you shouldn’t like it so much, but you can’t help but beam, cling to him.

“Next time,” he says, voice back to the levity of his pride, “I think you should sit on my face.”

You can’t help it. You gape at him.

“Your… face?” you repeat, hesitantly, unsure if you’ve misheard.

Shameless, he nods. 

“Don’t worry about suffocating me or any of that shit, it’d be an honorable way to go down.” 

“Oh my god,” you say, and then you laugh, and he laughs with you, and it’s like somebody poured liquid sunlight into your chest.

But then you shift against him, trying to get comfortable, and suddenly you’re not just aware that you’re lying in a puddle of what is essentially your own slick and Jake’s spit, that you’re still completely naked, but even more pressingly that he’s still hard.

Almost immediately, something inside of you seizes up again.

“Oh,” you whisper.

Jake, who has stilled your movement with a hand on your hip, clears his throat. He has a look of pure concentration on his face.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just… go to the bathroom.”

And he means it, is about to get out of bed when you hold onto him, wrap yourself around him like an octopus, shove your face into his chest, so you don’t have to look at him as you say, “No, I… I want it.”

Jake freezes.

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, “you don’t have to….”

“I want to,” you interrupt. And it’s clumsy rather than sexy, but you reach for his sweatpants, palm at him through the fabric, breath catching when you notice the dark stain of pre-cum on the front. “I want you inside of me.”

It’s so much more forward than you’ve ever been, so out of character, but it feels good to be honest, to tell the truth, to articulate what you’ve been dreaming of for months.

Jake groans loudly as you begin to rub at his length, drops back against the mattress without any protest.

“You want it?” he asks, searching your face as if he’s looking for any trace of a lie, of hesitancy.

Well, he won’t find any.

You smile and nod.

“I want it,” you confirm.

Jake clenches his eyes shut for a moment, exhales a shaky breath, and then he nods, leans over to open a drawer on his nightstand, and gets out a condom.

And he’s saying, you’re driving me crazy, sweetheart, but you barely hear him.

Because there it is, right on his nightstand. Front cover up, a gas station receipt shoved as a bookmark between the pages about a quarter into it.

Emma by Jane Austen.

“You… you’re reading it?” you say, interrupting whatever other filth was pouring from it, and Jake blinks, follows your gaze, pauses.

And then he has the audacity to blush. 

“Well,” he says, “you said it was your favorite, and I wanted to… I don’t usually read much, so it’s… a lot, but I think I get it, why you like it I mean, and….”

You pull him into a kiss, and you pour all of yourself into it. All the gratitude and the longing and the love. Everything you feel for him, right there, condensed into the slide of your mouth over his.

When you pull away, his eyes have gone dark again.

“I like you,” he says, and it should be bumbling, awkward, but it’s beautiful instead. “So much.”

You giggle. 

“I like you too,” you say.

From the first moment, Jake and you were planets circling each other. And now, finally, you’ve locked into orbit.

Jake rolls over you, kisses you again, only it’s even filthier this time, reminiscent of what he did between your legs, and within moments it’s gathering in your stomach again, growing once more, and you’re wet and wanting and pliant beneath him.

He pulls back to finally get rid of his sweatpants - how weird that he was still wearing them this whole time, you think - moves to roll on the condom, and you look down at his cock, open your mouth and… falter.

“Jake,” you say, “that’s not going to fit.”

And the moment you’ve said the words, you regret them. God, you sound like somebody hired you for an extremely low-budget porno, but you’re just honestly concerned.

Jake laughs, and you can’t believe you just fueled that ego even further.

“We’ll work with what he can. But sweetheart…” And he leans down, presses the tip of his cock first to your clit, then your entrance in a way that makes your vision blur, and his voice drops to a whisper, right in your ear, “Personally, I think you can take it.”

You can’t even answer, can’t do anything, because he starts pushing inside of you. And it’s excruciating, so slow it’s almost impossible, the stretch just the right side of unbearable. Jake braces a hand by your head, face scrunched up in pleasure, mouth hanging open, one hand guiding himself. And you just tip your head back and moan, a sound that rips free from the very core of you.

“I’d like to think I did a pretty damn good job at warming you up,” he grounds out, jaw clenched with concentration, “but- god, you feel so fucking good - we’ll take it slow, yeah? Just… tell me if you want to stop, honey.”

Stopping is the last thing on your mind. You just want him in you, want more, more, more, had it once, and already you’re so greedy.

The slide seems almost endless, stretching your walls further than you thought possible, and you can’t hear anything, not even Jake’s voice spilling endless praise in loops that make no sense, not your own heartbeat hammering away, only the rushing of your blood in your ears.

And then finally, when you think you can’t take it anymore, he bottoms out with a grunt and just stays there for a moment, pelvis pressed to yours, breathing in the same rhythm.

“How you feeling, sweetheart?” he asks gently, one hand moving to brush the hair matted to your face with sweat away from your forehead.

“I…” And you can’t think, doesn’t he know that you can’t think, why does he keep asking you questions when all of your brain is currently occupied with reminding you to keep breathing. “… Full.”

Jake’s face crumbles like he’s in pain, and then he drops his head against your chest, his breath hot where it hits your skin, and moans. Inside you, his cock twitches, and you gasp.

“Sweetheart,” he grits out, “can’t just go around saying shit like that. So I’m trying my best to hold on here, yeah?”

And it makes you crazy, thinking that you’ve made him like this, that he’s riding that edge because he buried his face in your pussy, and you can’t help it, hook an ankle over his thigh and tug him forward, force him to move.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You sure.”

And you nod, so far gone you don’t care anymore, can’t even remember to be embarrassed. 

“Yeah. I want it, Jake, please, please.”

It really doesn’t take all that much. He immediately complies, moving back, drawing almost all the way out before plunging back in. And it’s more than you can take, and not enough, it’s too slow, and too fast, it’s too hard, it’s not hard enough, it’s everything at once, and above all else, it’s good, so good you can’t put it into words, can’t believe it’s real, can do nothing but hold onto him and hope you make it out at the other side.

Jake keeps it even, keeps it slow even as you can see the muscles in his stomach rippling with the effort of keeping still, even as his face is tight.

“Okay,” you whisper, looking him right in the eyes only to find he’s already looking back, “give it to me, Jake.”

It sets him off. He goes from measured, collected to focused, thrusting harder, reaching deeper, and your eyes roll back into your head. He’s fucking you with enough force that it rattles the headboard against the wall, that you feel it reverberate all along your bones.

“Jake,” you whimper, and he groans, grasps one of your thighs, and bends you nearly in half, and it should be uncomfortable, but like this, he reaches even deeper, grazes that spot that paints stars in your vision. You can’t describe the sound you make as anything but a strangled scream, and it should be embarrassing, maybe, but you can’t bring yourself to feel anything but the pleasure of it all.

“Fuck,” he whispers against your neck, “fuck, sweetheart, you’re so… fucking… wet….”

The sounds are obscene. His cock plunging into your wetness, the headboard slamming against the walls, your own whimpers, and Jake’s moans, all of it mixing into what could possibly result in a noise complaint from several neighbors. And you don’t care. Not one bit.

He leans down to kiss you, barely more than your mouths slotting together, breath on breath, then his hand wanders down toward your pussy, and the other clasps yours, fingers slotting together. He’s thumbing at your swollen, sensitive clit, and it throbs, and things get even wetter, and you make a sound like you��re going to die right now, wrap yourself around him, arch into him, tongue stroking against his, his moan slammed against your teeth.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, rubbing tight, concentrated, purposeful circles on your clit, “come for me, I wanna feel your pussy clench on me, you can give me that, yeah, honey, you can be a good girl for me, can’t you?”

It’s been pretty clear from the moment he slid inside that neither of you would last very long, but that undoes you.

You’re saying yeah yeah yeah please please please jake jake jake, and he sinks his teeth into the side of your neck, sends his tongue after to soothe, and then it barrels through you, more intense than the first because it’s closer to pain, fingernails digging into his back, his palm, mouth ripping open around a sound that would have been his name had you had the breath, that dies before it leaves your lips, world-shattering, ground falling out from under you, and if you didn’t know any better you’d swear you black our for a moment, everything fading away.

When you return to it, Jake is saying, “… fucking, I can’t, god, pussy so wet and tight, so pretty, my gorgeous girl, my best girl so good, and you’re so, you’re so….”

You never do find out what you are because he goes from focused to frantic, hips undulating wildly, fucking into you at a shallow, quick pace, and then suddenly he freezes, shudders, his cock jumps - and then he’s groaning, arching over you as he empties into the condom.

He tries to roll off you immediately, but you wrap both arms and legs around him and hold him to you, in you, stay like that with your hearts thundering against each other like they’re knocking up a storm against your ribcages in an effort to embrace. Even like this, you still wish you could get him closer.

If I could, you think, I’d live inside your chest.

That’s a stupid thought.

For a while, you just lie like that. You’ll have to get up and go pee in a minute, but you don’t want to think about it yet. For now, you just want to lie here.

After an eternity, Jake says, “When I leave tomorrow….”

There’s something like hesitancy in his voice. Worry.

Into your hair, Jake whispers, “Will you wait for me?”

And that’s the thing about Jake. He’s always, always given you a way out. The decision was always yours.

So you could still walk away. Turn your back on this and forget about it. Rebuilt those walls and go back to the routine of your life before him.

But his heartbeat is quick and uneven against your chest. His voice is familiar.

You think of that house with the blue door back in Seattle.

Maybe, you think, it was never so much about the house as what it stood for: Sitting with your mother on the couch and listening to the rain. Laughing in Penny’s kitchen with her and Amelia. Watching the waves roll in that night at the beach with Jake.

Home, you think and blink the tears away. I’ve finally come home.

“Yeah, I’ll wait for you,” you answer, tighten your arms around him, press your face into his chest. “In fact, I might never leave you again. You got air conditioning.”

+++

“Jake,” you say, “this is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Wrong.” He turns the car left, and you hold onto the door handle for dear life. “The dumbest thing I’ve ever done was the time I almost let you go.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, “you’re getting so sappy.”

But when you stretch your hand palm-up over the middle console, and he takes it immediately, you’re smiling from ear to ear.

“Will you let me take this stupid blindfold off now?” you ask, the fingers of your free hand reaching up to trace along the line of the old bandana Jake tied over your eyes earlier before getting you into the car.

“Nope,” he says, sounding cheerful. “Don’t ruin the surprise, sweetheart.”

In reality, Jake isn’t the best at surprises. You’ve been together for four years now, and in all that time, you don’t think he’s managed to pull a single planned thing off. You knew about every surprise birthday party, every surprise anniversary dinner, every surprise homecoming. 

It’s a testament to his love for you, though - you’re the first person he wants to share things with, even the ones he should be keeping from you.

(And you indulge him, every time. Pretend to be shocked. Pretend he pulled it off. 

You’ll do it even when he finally decides to get out that ring box you found in his sock drawer last week. You know he’ll ask. Soon. 

You’ll wait.)

Maybe this one will actually work, though, because really, you have no idea where the hell he’s taking you.

“We’re here,” Jake says, and you hear the rhythmic thumping of the turn signal.

Jake parks the car, and you wait in silence until he’s back to open your door and help you out, one hand holding yours and the other on the small of your back. Then, carefully, he maneuvers you around.

The feeling in your chest catches somewhere between excitement and trepidation. God, you hope he didn’t do anything stupid.

Then, his voice is low in your ear as he says, “Ready, sweetheart?”

You’re not exactly sure if you are, but you say, “Ready.”

When he takes the blindfold off, you blink into the bright sunlight.

There’s a house in front of you. A beautiful place, the kind you always point out to him when you’re taking strolls through your neighborhood. White wood paneling, a front porch that wraps around the whole ground floor. Balconies with wrought-iron railings for the second stories. Flowerboxes before every window.

From behind you, Jake says, “It’s ours.”

Your heart is in your throat. Your eyes burn.

“Ours?” you repeat, voice so soft it almost gets carried off by the breeze.

Jake nods, then swallows and scrambles to say, “I didn’t sign the contract yet, of course, I’m not crazy enough to do something that big without talking to you first, you know that. But if you want it, then… it’s ours.”

The tears are hot on your face. You feel like your ribcage is going to splinter apart. Behind it, your heart has grown to three times its previous size.

“Oh,” Jake says, spotting your tears, and the hands that were wringing the bandana suddenly fall along with his face, “you don’t like it. That’s okay, we’ll just….”

“Shut up, Bagman,” you say, laughing even through the tears, a bubbling sound, fragile as glass, fragile as you feel, “I love it. Of course, I love it.”

He grins, eyes all crinkly and luminous, and fuck, you’re so in love, so far gone, it feels like you could hug the whole world. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“God, I’m so whipped,” he says, laughing like he’s trying to rival the sun, reaching for you. “My gorgeous, brilliant girl.”

He pulls you against his chest, and you wrap your arms around him and press your smile into his neck, and it’s 84 degrees in the shade, but you don’t mind because you love him, and he sees you, and you’re home, you’re home, you’re home.

The door to your new house is painted a tender baby blue. Kind of like the ocean. Kind of like the Californian sky. Kind of like your dream.