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[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 3

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 2 | Series Masterlist | Part 4

Chapter Summary: The date is just beginning, but you're not sure if you can keep it together.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, stalking, coercion, threats (not against reader), creepy and unhinged behavior, possessiveness, manipulation, mental and emotional whiplash, reader is trying to stay calm, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Hope you lovelies enjoy and thank you again for the feedback so far! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You took a deep breath and another, but it didn’t stop your heart from picking up in your chest. It was a feat that your legs didn’t give out. Your throat felt rough and raw, except you hadn’t screamed. You hadn’t made a sound. Not until Bucky moved toward you, pulling a whimper from you.

“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” he said, cupping your face with a smile. You wanted to believe there was a warmth behind it or that he had a voice in his head telling him that this wasn’t right. That none of this was right. “Don’t you like them?”

“The flowers. The guy who bought them…” you swallowed, wondering exactly who he was and how he was associated with Bucky. Did Bucky know him well or was he a stranger? Did he bribe him into going into his shop?

“Oh, he’s fine,” Bucky assured you, which didn’t make you feel any better. “Loved the tulips you helped pick out for him. I know his girl will be very happy to get them, too.”

The citrus and woodsy combination of Bucky’s cologne filled your nostrils as you took another deep breath. You expected to stumble back when he suddenly crouched down, but you didn’t budge an inch. Once again, you were frozen in fear. Why couldn’t you move? You told yourself he wouldn’t hurt you. Why bother dragging you all the way to his place for that when he could’ve done so in your home?

Or, apparently, your place of work.

“Why don’t we have some of that wine after I show you around?” He asked, retrieving the clutch you dropped.

“Do you really expect me to just sit and have a drink with you?”

“Not just a drink,” he said, slowly standing and reminding you just how large he was. “Dinner. Dessert.”

“Where’s the bathroom?” You asked.

He nodded over your shoulders. “There’s one right behind you.”

You turned and went into the bathroom, careful not to lock the door behind you as much as you wanted to. He may have broken down the door if you tried. You gripped the sink as you struggled to take your next breath, blood rushing in your ears as you looked at your reflection. A voice in the back of your mind whispered to stay calm when tears threatened to spill over for the second time that evening.

Could you though? Could you play along and get through this night without having some sort of breakdown? You had to try.

Your attention was pulled away by the soft knock on the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Would you care if I wasn't?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

The door opened a heartbeat later, but you didn't dare meet his gaze in the mirror as he approached. Not even as he pressed himself against your back, your body trapped between his and the sink. It was suffocating. He brought a hand up to lift your chin, forcing your eyes to lock with his. The light above the mirror put a spotlight on the intensity of his gaze as his lips brushed your ear.

“I care more than you think,” he whispered, turning you to face him. His fingers traced the column of your neck before he let go. “In time, I know you’ll see that.”

You fought the urge to laugh as he led you back into the entryway. If he cared, he would’ve gone about this whole thing differently. You focused your attention instead on the penthouse, taking in more of the decor as he showed you around. As immaculate as the place looked, it lacked a personal touch. Where were the photos? Trinkets?

“What do you think?”

“It’s a beautiful place,” you answered. And it was beautiful, but it didn't feel like a home or lived in like your place.

“A bit spacious for just me,” he said, glancing at you. Was it his roundabout way of stating again how he expected you to move in?

“Yeah, it’s a lot for one person, but it’s still nice.”

He nodded in agreement. “The couch is comfortable if you ever want to take a nap,” he said, an almost knowing look in his eyes as you stopped at the living room. Jesus, did he know you slept on your couch last night? “Though I’d prefer you sleep in our bed.”

“Our” bed. Not subtle at all. “I know you said this would be my place one day, too, but maybe we should get well past the first date before we talk about sharing a bed,” you said, sarcastically adding, “I hog the blankets, so I hope you're prepared for that.”

He chuckled and you wished you didn't like the pleasant sound. “You can have as many blankets as you want. And I had every intention of showing you the master bedroom tonight, but I think I’ll wait.”

“Really?” You asked, hoping you didn't sound too eager to avoid seeing it. Was there a catch?

“Really,” he said, pulling you close by the hips. Through his clothes, you felt how firm he was. There was strength there you couldn't match. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else. And when I take you to bed, I’m going to ruin you. That's a promise.”

A shuddering breath left your lungs as he leaned in, his lips skimming yours.

“But I’m not the monster you think I am, which is why I’m going to wait,” he whispered.

It was a relief that Bucky wasn't going to take you to bed. Not tonight, at least. At the same time, what exactly was he waiting for? He made it clear that he wanted you and wasn't going to let go. What game was he playing?

Thinking about it was enough to drive you mad.

“And you won't hurt me?” You questioned. You had to hear him say it.

“I’d never hurt you,” he promised, pulling away at the two knocks on the front door.

He wouldn't hurt you, but what about other people?

“Chef’s here, boss,” the guard’s voice rang out.

“Perfect timing,” Bucky smiled.

He kept a hand on you as he guided you to the kitchen, the guard and who you assumed to be the chef entering seconds later. “Mr. Barnes, so good to see you.”

“You as well,” Bucky replied, his demeanor professional and somewhat colder.

Your eyes went back to the guard as Bucky chatted with the chef. He seemed to avoid your gaze, keeping his eye instead on the two men speaking. Did he know the circumstances that brought you here? Would he care if he did?

“You’re sure this is what you’d like, Mr. Barnes? This is a relatively simple meal,” the chef scoffed, making a show of gesturing to the ingredients. It dawned on you as you looked at them that he was going to prepare one of your favorite meals. Your stomach dropped, but you kept quiet. Of course, Bucky knew.

And of course, it wasn't sophisticated.

Bucky’s jaw twitched as if he sensed your embarrassment. The guard didn't look impressed by the chef’s comment either. “It’s her favorite. Are you insulting my girl’s taste?” he spoke, making you shiver from the ice in his tone.

“No, Mr. Barnes. Of course not! I meant no disrespect.” The chef shook his head, meeting your gaze with a shaky smile. “To be simple is to be great.”

“That’s right. Simplicity is also to be respected,” Bucky said, pointing a gloved finger at him. “And with your reputation, it better be the best meal she has ever had. I’d hate to see what happens if she doesn’t like it.”

“It’s fine,” you whispered. It was better to focus on easing the situation instead of yet another reminder that he knew another intimate detail about you. That and you felt bad as the man behind the counter began to sweat. “I’m sure the meal will be delicious. Thank you for taking the time to come here and prepare it.”

The tension dissipated as Bucky softly smiled at you, a crisis averted for the time being. “We’re going to enjoy our wine on the balcony while he prepares our meal,” he told the guard. “Keep an eye on him.”

“Will do.”

Bucky took you away from the kitchen before the chef could speak another word to you. Fresh air might help you breathe easier. He opened the glass door, the night breeze making you shiver as you stepped outside. The view of the city stretched on and the moon and stars lit up the sky. It was breathtaking.

You jumped when Bucky put his jacket around your shoulders. The romantic gesture felt like a claim. “I hope his comment didn't upset you. If it did-”

“It’s fine. Really,” you assured him, glancing at the two-seater table as he pulled out a chair for you. Two glasses were set out as well, along with what you knew to be an expensive bottle of wine. “This is gorgeous.”

“It is,” he agreed, your cheeks flaming when you saw him looking at you instead of the view.

“Do you spend a lot of time out here?” You asked.

He popped the cork on the bottle and poured each of you a small amount. You almost thanked him for that. You had to keep your wits about you.

“Not as much as I’d like to,” he said, nodding to a small sofa in the corner as he took a seat. “But I do like to read out here.”

“You read in your free time?” You asked, biting back a moan when you sipped the wine.

His eyes lit up and just as quickly darkened when you licked your lips. “I do. Reading has always been a hobby of mine. I even have first editions of some of my favorite books.”

“That’s really nice,” you smiled. For a moment it felt like the two of you were having a normal conversation.

That good feeling went away when he took out a velvet box.

“Can’t forget about the surprise,” he smiled before he handed it over. It looked too long to be a ring box, thankfully, but it wouldn't have surprised you if there was an engagement ring inside. Which was likely why your hand shook as you opened it.

The diamond pendant was stunning enough to make you gasp. Five stones each a different shape, they sparkled under the moonlight. The kind of necklace you could only dream of having.

“Bucky, I’m sorry.” You shut the box and slid it back across the table toward him. “I can’t accept this.”

His gaze flickered to the box before he looked at you again. You wanted to believe he looked concerned, but he hadn’t exactly taken any of your feelings into consideration so far. “Why not? We can pick out another together if you’d rather have something else.”

“I can’t accept it because it’s too much,” you said. Accepting the gift would make the situation more real.

He chuckled after a moment. “No, it isn't. Nothing would ever be too much for me to give to you.”

You reached across to tap the top of the box. “Bucky, this is the kind of gift that you give to your wife or fiancé or girlfriend. Hell, maybe a mistress or a sugar baby. I’m none of those things.” Something flickered in his gaze and that should’ve been your warning to stop, but you kept going anyway. “I’m not your girl.”

He took your hand before you could pull it away, his jaw clenched. “You’re right about one thing. You’re not my mistress or a sugar baby,” he agreed. “You could never be those things because you are the only one I see.”

But why? It didn’t make any sense to you. “But-”

“Girlfriend, fiancé, wife,” he ticked off with the fingers of his free hand. “We'll get to all those phases of our relationship, so you might as well accept this gift now or you'll be accepting much more than this later.”

You swallowed, but didn’t attempt to pull away. His grip didn’t hurt and you didn’t know exactly what he was implying, but you didn’t want to find out tonight. Not when he promised he wouldn’t drag you off to his room. “Thank you for the wonderful gift.”

He smiled and took the box as he stood. You didn't protest as he moved to put the necklace around your neck nor did you flinch when his fingers moved along on your skin. When he sat back down, he sighed and lovingly looked you over. “It's beautiful. Just like I knew it would be on you."

You touched it after a moment, the feel of his fingertips still lingering. “I didn't expect something so nice for a first date.”

“This is only the beginning.” He tilted his head and let his eyes watch you trace the delicate gems. “You deserve so much more.”

“Is this some elaborate joke?” You scoffed a bit. He sounded so sure of himself, that he believed you deserved the world. But why? “You do realize that I'm just a florist. And I don't say that to belittle my career because I love what I do, but I'm nothing special.”

Sadness took over his eyes. “Why would you say that?”

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have with the stranger who broke into your home. You didn’t want to have any sort of conversation tonight. “Because I don't own the flower shop I work at. I'm not rich. Hell, I lived with a roommate until last year just to save up and afford my own place. You should know since you researched me,” you said without a trace of bitterness. “I’m not a party girl. I don't turn heads wherever I go. I just want to work with my flowers, go home, and live a simple little life.”

His eyes followed the motion of you biting your lip again before he shook his head. “You think being rich and owning a business are the things it takes to make someone special?”

“No, I don't think that.”

“Then what does?”

You looked around the balcony with a sigh before meeting his gaze again. “Who a person is makes them special.”

“Yet everything you stated has nothing to do with who you are. So I’ll ask again, why would you say you're nothing special?”

You didn't know how to respond. You thought he would’ve just dropped the conversation, so you looked into your lap with a shake of your head. If you were special, wouldn’t you have found someone by now the way Addision and your other friends had? You didn’t want to pour out your insecurities, even if he seemed to hold an invisible knife and was ready to cut them open. “I don't know. I just know I’m not.”

He hummed a little. “So, would someone who is nothing special make homemade meals for her neighbor because she recently had a baby and probably wouldn't have time to cook for herself?”

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly hurt yourself. “How-”

“And not only are you in Addison's wedding party, you offered to have her flowers done so she could have more money for her honeymoon. You're telling me that being caring and thoughtful doesn’t make a person special?”

Goosebumps raised on your skin, realizing just how thorough he was in his research of you. “How do you know all of that about me?” Tears sprang to your eyes and you blinked them back. “I didn't tell anyone about my neighbor or the flowers.”

He cracked a small smile. “That's one of the things that makes you special. You don't do those things expecting anything in return and you sure as hell don't do it to brag. You do them because you care.” He took a second to lean back in his seat, his eyes still on you. “When I see something I want, I give it my all. And I'm not afraid to use my resources. I told you, I like to be thorough.”

You giggled. A hysterical sort of giggle. One that scared you because you had never laughed like that. “I don't know if I can do this,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I shouldn't be here. I should be getting a restraining order.”

Bucky didn't look offended in the slightest. “You could try. Do you think it’ll stop me?”

What little resolve you had left snapped. “Oh, my god. Do you hear yourself? I mean, really hear yourself?!” You snapped, tempted to throw the remainder of your wine on him when he didn’t react. “You know what a first date is, right? It’s two people trying to get to know each other and to see if there’s a mutual connection. You didn’t give me a chance to form a connection with you because you decided it for me after you stalked me.”

His brows pinched like you hurt his feelings. “Doll-”

“You know ‘everything’ about me, but what do I know about you, huh?” You continued, your anxiety bubbling over. “I know that you own a club and that you break into homes and scare the shit out of people. Oh, and that you read. And you apparently have the world at your fingertips since you can send people into my place of work and find out details about me that most aren’t privy to. You could probably use those resources of yours for good or to help others, but you used them to dig into my life when I didn't ask you to!”

“Some people do research before a first date,” he pointed out, not raising his voice.

“Not a full background check! I’m not an employee of yours and I’m not a toy for you to play with!” You huffed as you sat back, suddenly exhausted. How was he unphased? “You really think you have a say in my future? Are you that much of a control freak that you think you can control me?”

The silence stretched on as Bucky considered you and your body trembled as he idly sipped his wine. You weren’t the type to snap and you suddenly felt the urge to apologize for your outburst, which wasn’t fair. He put you in this situation, so why did you want to make it better?

Because you didn’t know what he would do.

“I’m not trying to control you,” he stated, handing you a handkerchief.

“It feels like you are and that isn’t fair,” you said, dabbing at your eyes. Life wasn’t exactly fair though, was it? “And for the record, the only reason I’m not tossing this wine on you is because it’s delicious and it would be a waste.”

His nose scrunched as he laughed. “I wish you could’ve met my mom. She would’ve loved you,” he said so softly you almost missed it, the change in topic jarring to say the least. What happened to her? “I’ve tried traditional dating. It doesn’t and hasn’t worked for me so far. The last woman I dated? She tried to rob me, if you can believe that.”

You sighed, still a bit worn out from your rant. “I can,” you said. There were greedy people in the world and he seemed to have more than enough to provide others with a comfortable life. It wasn’t right that someone tried to take what he earned.

It also wasn’t right what he was doing to you.

“In my line of work, everyone wants something from me. Money, power, favors. It’s hard to trust people,” he said, his gaze surprisingly soft as he took your hand again. “But not you.”

“Because that’s not the kind of person I am,” you guessed.

You were in many ways the opposite of him. While you weren’t poor, you certainly weren’t rich or powerful and didn’t want to use people for your gain. Perhaps that was why he wanted you so badly. You were someone who didn’t want anything from him. Someone like you was easy for him to control since you didn’t run in that kind of circle, even if he said he wasn’t trying to.

Maybe you should have put up a fight instead of making yourself an easy target.

Wait, why were you blaming yourself?

“I know it isn’t,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze. “So, maybe I’m a control freak and maybe my approach is a bit extreme, but I don't want to control you. I like who you are, doll. You’re loyal and caring and real. The kind of person I want and need.”

You took a sip of wine so you didn't have to respond. He needed you, so he said, but did you need him? And why did his praise warm your insides? You didn't want it to feel nice.

“And maybe I like that you aren’t the kind of person who has a hidden agenda and that you aren’t a party girl. Even you snapping at me. I love that fire. I want more of it. Burn me with it if you want,” he continued, sweeping his gaze over you once again. “Fuck, I can’t take my eyes off you. And I can't stop thinking about you.”

The look in his eyes put you on edge. “But we-”

“You’re good for me and you may not believe I’m good for you, but I am. We’re right for each other,” he said. The fierce determination in his gaze almost had you believing it. “And aren’t you tired of being lonely? I know I am.”

Loneliness could eat away at a person. Drive them to do desperate things. It didn't excuse his actions.

“Lonely or not, you can't force us to be together,” you said.

“I’m not forcing us to be together. You chose to be here tonight.”

“You know why I came here,” you argued. He had to know you did this because of his threat. “And I’ll behave or do whatever I need to do for the rest of the night, but I can't promise anything beyond that.”

Instead of anger like you expected, he smiled. Like a wolf flashing his teeth before sinking into its prey. “That’s okay because I have a promise for you,” he began, the flame dancing in his eyes. “You’ll be out of your apartment before the end of the month.”

The balcony door opening covered up the wheeze you let out, but didn't hide the despair written all over your face. He couldn't be serious. “Dinner’s ready,” the guard stated.

Bucky didn't spare him a glance as he stood and kept your hand in his, your appetite gone as his smile widened. “C’mon, doll. Better not let it get cold.”

Ooh. Will he really have you out of your place that soon? How awkward will that meal be? And who do we think this guard is? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[nickfowlerrr]

the truth is this

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader (friends to lovers)

warnings: fluff, kissing, very slightly edging on heavy petting, mention of an erection, no smut but still 18+ only.

words: 2.9k

notes: loosely based on these prompts: platonic forehead kisses starting to give u the feels. LIKE ITS SOMETHING MAGICAL. and "is that really all 'A' is to you?" thank you so much to @anthony-sharma for the request! thank you in advance for reading and as always, feedback and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated!

"So you're telling me you didn't notice the way she was looking at you just now?" Sam asked skeptically.

"I'm telling you I have no idea what you're talking about," Bucky rebuffed, his brows furrowing in agitation.

"Well I do know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about you and her finally pulling your heads out of your asses and realizing you like each other."

"No shit we like each other, Sam. She's one of my best friends."

"Is that really all she is to you?" he questioned pointedly.

Bucky stopped in his retreat as he took in Sam's words. He instantly knew his answer, but still told himself had to think about it. Because although his thoughts were flowing with all of the things you were to him, all things that went way beyond the scope of just friendship, he was still too scared to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else.

Sam watched as Bucky swallowed hard, his jaw tightening and brows furrowed even more. It looked as if he was blinking away his thoughts when he finally looked back at Sam. An annoyed look taking over his features once again. He didn't say anything, just grumbled in response before he continued out of the room.

For nearly three hours after the little confrontation he had with Sam, Bucky raged with himself in the privacy of his own room. His head was swirling and he could barely keep track of what part of him was winning the argument until a knock came on his door.

Not just any knock, your knock. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was expecting you, he had just lost track of time with the internal struggle he had been trying to sort out.

Something changed, though, when he heard you. All thoughts of not acknowledging his feelings, in part to not wreck what he already had with you, went right out the window.. kinda.

He could accept the true depth of his feelings for you, but he'd be damned if he spoke them aloud until he knew that there'd be no shot at hurting your friendship if you didn't feel the same.

Sam's words came back to him as he considered that you didn't. The way she looked at you...

How had you looked at him? Were all the signs there and he was just blind to them? Well, he'd be sure to pay close attention tonight. See if he could see what Sam saw.

He got to the door and opened it for you, greeting you with a smile as you walked into his room and instantly wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. When you pulled back ever so slightly, peering up at him with sparkling eyes, Bucky swore he felt himself get weak in the knees.

Your smile was the most beautiful thing to him. He'd do anything to get one out of you, though he really didn't have to try all that hard. Your usually stoic demeanor, or resting bitch face as Kate had called it, was rarely ever broken; but as the rest of the team noticed long ago, Bucky seemed to have a knack for breaking it quite easily.

It was like you just couldn't help your smile when he was around. You'd always get more talkative and seemed a lot more approachable than when you were alone. It wasn't like you were a mean person, far from it, you just had a bit of an intimidating presence most of the time. You were a quiet person and weren't typically the most open. It wasn't something you put on, it was just your natural disposition. One of the reasons you and Bucky had gotten so close so quickly was because he was one of the only people to not have been put off by your introversion; he wasn't hesitant to talk to you, in fact, the moment he had seen you, he just had this feeling that you and him would get along swell. And he was right.

He'd gone up to you and introduced himself, and you gave him your name with a small smile in return. You and Bucky had a lot in common and though it took you a little while, you soon found yourself more comfortable around Bucky than you had been with anyone else...ever.

You guys could talk for ages and never bore, or you could sit in each other's silence comfortably for hours on end, not needing anything other than each other's company.

Neither of you realized how close you had gotten or how you appeared inseparable until it started getting pointed out by everyone else.

Repeatedly.

Over and over again.

Whether it was playful jokes at your mutual expense during meetings, or pestering whispers in your ears by your friends trying to bring your attentions to what everyone else could already see, to what everyone had seen from the very start of your and Bucky's friendship: That it was so definitely more than just friendship.

He wasn't sure what it was about Sam's comments this time that finally had him taking it seriously. Maybe it was because he felt it too. And truthfully, he always had, but maybe he just couldn't keep pushing the thoughts away. Maybe... maybe it was because he knew deep down, the love he felt for you was way more than just platonic. Maybe he finally realized that he was well and truly in love with you, and maybe he had a bit of hope burning bright that you felt the same way.

Bucky collects himself as he gazes into your eyes, feeling like if he stares too long he'll lose himself to you completely. But he really doesn't think he'd mind one bit. You pretty much have him already.

"So," you breathe as you begrudgingly pull away from his warmth, "did you decide? Movie or tv show?" you ask as you step past him further into his room.

He shuts his door before turning and following you to the kitchenette where you easily find the stash of candy Bucky keeps for your "movie" nights.

"Uhhh, you pick," he says as you pass him once again, heading to the couch and throwing your stockpile of sweets on the coffee table before you as you get comfortable.

"Okay," you agree, grabbing the remote and scrolling through the titles to find something at least halfway decent to put on.

Your eyes flick over to Bucky and you realize he's still wearing the clothes he had on earlier while you're in your pajamas, like you always are on movie night.

"Why are your clothes still on?" you ask as you peer up at him from your spot on the couch.

Bucky's breath catches in his throat as his heart nearly stops beating entirely, heat rising to his cheeks. In the same moment your eyes widen as you hear yourself and your breath stutters for just a second. Why did you say it like that? you chide yourself. Wishful thinking, some other part of your brain snickers. You push the thought away. Inappropriate.

"Huh?" Bucky asks, though he heard you full well.

"I mean, you're not in your pajamas," you clarify.

"Right, yeah, I uh, I was a bit distracted before you got here," he admits as he absentmindedly rubs the back of his neck. "I'm gonna change, you put something on. I'll be right back."

Bucky changes his clothes quickly and returns to you just as you find something to put on.

You watch him enter the room and laugh as you note that you're kinda matching now. You're both in gray sweats and as you wear a black long sleeve v-neck, Bucky has on a short sleeve v-neck in the same color.

Bucky notices as you do, "I swear this wasn't on purpose," he chuckles as he settles down next to you.

You titter as you start the movie and adjust in your seat to get more comfortable. And by more comfortable, you really just meaning scooting over to be closer to Bucky.

Bucky watches you as you move to be closer to him, smiling to himself as he realizes you're trying to be cool about it, trying to not make it too obvious. It's cute, but he really doesn't mind. In fact, the closer you are the happier he is. Your thigh brushes his as you keep a bit of space between your upper body and his chest.

Bucky fights off the urge to grab your legs and pull them into his lap but he can't fight the urge he has to pull you in closer.

His arm comes around your right side as he pulls you into him. You look up at him in a bit of surprise, but he doesn't return your gaze, he keeps his eyes set on the screen before him.

You blink in wonder before you look back at the screen too. You bite your lip to keep from smiling at his unexpected action and settle into his hold, scootching closer as you recline against him and let his hand rest on the curve of your waist meeting your hip.

You feel like you’d been dropping hint after hint, purposefully, these past two weeks after a long night of talking with Sam and Nat when you were finally able to put a name to your feelings; the realization you had entirely fallen for your best friend was maybe a bit pulled out of you by them but it was true nonetheless.

You’d stopped holding yourself back the way you normally did when it came to touches and hugs lately, hoping maybe Bucky would get the hint and you wouldn’t have to say it outright.. at least not first.

Admittedly, you could feel the tiniest bit of awkwardness - or maybe tension was the better word, between you and him at the moment. Not entirely unpleasant, but still it was there. At least it had been for a minute. But soon as Bucky settled his hand on your hip, that all faded as soon as it appeared. It was completely comfortable, it felt right, being this close to him. Though, truthfully, it always felt right when Bucky around.

As you fought your smile and Bucky’s hand gently squeezed your hip unconsciously, your heart warmed. Maybe he was finally picking up on what you were trying to do and hopefully the reason why.

Sam and Nat had been sure to let you know it was obvious that he felt the same for you, but still you were nervous to come right out with it.

Slow and steady, you remind yourself. No need to rush things anyway. You’d rather him come to the same realization you had on his own time, not yours.

But god, you hoped he really felt the same.

Bucky takes a peek down at you once he feels your eyes are off of him. He smiles to himself at how perfect this is. How comfortable you both are with the more intimate touches, despite neither of you bringing it up. It just feels natural.

So natural, he isn't really thinking much when he leans down and places a gentle kiss to your forehead. When he catches himself doing it, he zeros in on your reaction to it. It's not like he hadn't done it before, but any time he had it was usually in parting, as customary for you guys as a hug.

This was clearly more intimate. A show of affection he wanted to give you, no other reason than that.

He admires the soft fluttering of your lashes and the way you lean further into him, letting your head rest on his chest.

For half a second, he sees you worry you've made a mistake as he pulls his arm from around you but when he gently takes hold of your chin and turns you to face him, time seems to stand still as you gaze at one another.

You wait with bated breath as you search his bright eyes that are gleaming down at you. He can hear the change in the rhythm of your heartbeat and as he lets his eyes flit to your lips, he swears he hears the sharp intake of air you breathe as your eyes fall to his own lips before returning to his stare.

The next thing he knows, Bucky is holding your gorgeous face in his hands before he leans in closer and takes your lips in his. It's slow and gentle as he takes his time savoring your first kiss. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers your hands on his as you return the kiss, and it quickly turns a bit more fervent. Like you've both been waiting forever for this exact moment to happen.

You pull your legs up onto the couch as you turn and move closer to Bucky. You're not thinking as you straddle his lap, the kiss only growing deeper and more intent with each second that passes.

Your hands leave Bucky's as you move them to stabilize yourself without full on sitting in his lap, one hand behind his neck and the other on the couch behind him. Bucky's own hands find their place on your hips before he pulls you down, forcing you down on his lap.

You moan into his mouth as he grabs a handful of your ass and you feel him growing slightly beneath you.

You have to break the kiss to breathe, both of you panting heavily as you press your forehead to his, nose to nose as you breathe one another in. You can't help the smile that breaks out on your face as you laugh breathily, gripping his neck as you shake your head in disbelief.

You place a soft kiss to his lips once more as he holds you to him.

"Sorry," Bucky begins, though he looks to be the furthest thing from it as he smiles that charming smile of his. "I just.. I think I've wanted to do that for a while now. It just felt right."

"You don't have to apologize," you smile softly in turn as you play with the stray hairs curled at the nape of his neck. "I think I've wanted you to do that for a while now. And it did," you breathe with a nod, "it definitely felt right."

"I wanna do more of this," he murmurs against your lips after he places another kiss to yours.

"Me too," you agree with a peck of your own. "I think I wanna make out with you," you muse.

One side of his mouth slants up in a smirk as his hands run up your sides, "I think I want you to make out with me, too," he says, amused before going in for another kiss. You both smile into it and you swear your heart is near bursting as your tummy flutters in your happiness.

"There's something I need to tell you first," he says seriously as he parts just slightly from you.

His hands rubbing up and down your back keep you from worrying as he effortlessly soothes you.

He maintains eye contact as you wait for him to continue.

"I think, - no, I know," he corrects himself. "I love you," he breathes your name as part of his confession.

You move your hand from the couch and gently hold his stubbly cheek instead, thumb rubbing over the skin of his cheek softly.

You smile again, holding his eye as you lean into him before you kiss him slow and deep, trying to get all of the things you're feeling across to him, but most namely, the main one. The love.

You part from him gently as he follows you, mindlessly chasing your lips before catching himself.

He blinks up at you as you perch over him slightly.

"I love you, too, Buck," you nearly whisper as you caress his cheek. "This doesn't change anything, ya know," you add.

He furrows his brow in slight confusion at your words.

You laugh lightly at his expression before continuing, "You're still my best friend. Nothing's gonna change that."

"Wouldn't expect it to," he smiles.

It's quiet between you for a moment before you speak again.

"Promise," you urge softly.

"Promise?"

"Promise nothing's gonna change that," you say as you look down at his chest, moving your idle hand to play with the chain you find there.

"I promise, hey" he says sincerely as he puts two fingers under your chin and has you meet his eye once more, "I promise."

"I don't wanna lose you."

"You won't," he reassures you before suddenly turning you both and flipping you on your back as he leans over you. You gaze up at him a little breathless as you titter.

"Okay," you whisper your trust, your arms reaching up to wrap around his thick neck, pulling him down closer to you.

"Okay," he echos before brushing his lips against yours once more.

The movie is long forgotten as you and Bucky spend the rest of the night completely wrapped up in one another. Talking, touching, just being with each other. The way you were always meant to. It was comfortable, easy. And you couldn't ask for more as you felt entirely whole and at peace in his strong arms promising to never let you go.

[astr0n0va1]

𝐌𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚 - 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐬 - 𝟏

Hey guys this is the official part 1 of the 6 part series 𝐌𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚, enjoy and feel free to reblog, and share your thoughts. - N0va 2,156 words Songs: Algo Magico By Rauw Alejandro, Mi Santa by Rauw Alejandro

*SOMEWHERE IN THE STREETS OF MIAMI

After Y/n sent Armando the location of the home he strapped his duffel bag to the backseat of his bike and got ready to start his motorcycle when he noticed a car parked not far from him.

He looked back, brushed it off, placed his helmet on, started his motorcycle, and started driving. It wasn't until he had passed 2 blocks and noticed that the car was following him. He sped up trying to lose the car, but the driver kept up. Armando saw a nearby alley and went down it to stop the car from following him.

In the alleyway, he stopped for a second and tried to call Mike, but it went to voicemail. Then he received a text from an unknown number.

"Hola Señor Aretas, nos vemos pronto. - tu flor favorita"

He blocked the number and brushed it off trying to ignore some old memories flooding into his head. There was no way it was her, there was technically no possible way of it. He took a deep breath, placed his helmet on, and made his way to his destination.

>>> Now in Downtown Miami at the getaway house*

You, Dorn, and Kelly were the first to arrive out of everyone, which you were expecting as you knew Rafe would show up later with the booze, and Armando would probably be the last one there.

As you all settled in you decided to give Dorn and Kelly the master bedroom as they were the only couple on the trip. You took the second biggest bedroom at the end of the hallway, this left the bedroom across and next to you available to Armando and Rafe.

As you set your suitcase down Dorn and Kelly came into your room.

"I'm starving." Dorn comments.

"So.." You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I do not like your attitude, Missy," Dorn responds.

"Dorn leave her alone, she hasn't gotten any in a while," Kelly said, trying to whisper the last part.

"I heard that," you said as you threw a pillow at the both of them.

"Y/n you need to put yourself more out there that's all we are trying to say," Kelly said in a sympathetic tone.

"I don't blame her have you seen the dickheads that approach Y/n, so if you ask me take your time and don't just fuck dickheads just because you're sexually frustrated and alone," Dorn advised you.

"Thanks Dorn, I will keep in mind the fact that I am sexually frustrated and alone." You said before getting up from the bed and making your way to the kitchen.

Kelly hit Dorn's head, "Asshole." She said

"What'd I do?" he said.

"LET'S GO LOVEBIRDS, DINNER ISN'T GOING TO MAKE ITSELF," you yelled from the kitchen.

As they made their way down, the door opened and Rafe made his way in with bottles of booze and a hookah.

"Why'd you bring a hookah?" You asked Rafe.

"Because we are getting lit this weekend and because of our jobs we are not allowed to get high, so we have to smoke something." He said before placing all the stuff down on the counter.

"So what should we make for dinner?" You asked.

"I don't know what we have in the fridge," Kelly said while she opened the fridge.

"Ok we have enough ingredients to make burgers which I say we save for tomorrow, or pasta for tonight," she said while taking a closer look inside.

"Ok, pasta it is." She said while pulling out some of the ingredients.

You and Kelly both started preparing things while Rafe and Dorn started setting up something on the TV and the speaker. About 20 minutes had passed and there was a knock at the door. Rafe went to answer and found Armando at the door.

"Hey man, glad you made it.” He said while letting Armando in the house.

Armando made his way into the house examining it as he walked. He made his way to the living room where he greeted Dorn who took him to the kitchen where you and Kelly were.

“Hi, Armando.” You said and went back to what you were doing.”

“Hey Y/n thanks for the invite.  ” He said, placing his duffel bag down on the chair. He then saw Kelly a few inches away from you and just sent her a nod, to which responded with a small nod. 

“Yeah, no problem.” You said before turning back to the stove.

“If you want, tell  Rafe to take you to the rooms and by the time you’re back dinner will be served. After the dinner, Y/n can show you the house so you can get familiar with it.” Kelly said before grabbing the plates.

“Oh ok, thanks Kelly,” Armando said before making their way to Rafe so they could go upstairs. 

You and Kelly served the food and put the plates on the table, and by the time you both sat down, everyone was at the table. Dinner was good. You all talked, made jokes, and laughed.  After you all finished you picked up the plates from the table and then went to start the sink to start washing everything, since the kitchen was now a mess. 

“Y/n I’m sorry I’m tired and so full, do you mind cleaning up by yourself,” Kelly asked you.

“It’s fine, I understand, you guys can go to bed, I got it.” You said.

She blew you a kiss and walked off with Dorn who was waiting for her at the stairs. 

“Goodnight Y/n,” said Rafe as he also went upstairs.

“Night Rafe,” you responded.

As you finished loading cups and utensils into the dishwasher you felt someone next to you.

“Is there anything I can help with?” He asked.

“No, I got it.” You said.

He still grabbed a rag and started cleaning surfaces and the stove. You were surprised you didn’t think he would be like this.

“I’m kind of surprised I wasn’t expecting you to be…” He cut you off.

“Surprised of what, that I cleaned, or that I showed up?” He said with a small intrigued smile.

“Well, both 'cause I didn’t know this side of you. I don't know, it just seems more calm” You replied.

“I mean yeah everyone thinks I only know how to kill and fight,” he says.

“Fuck I’m sorry I didn’t mean it that way.” You said.

“It’s okay I understand, it’s not like I have shown the rest of my personality. So trust me, it’s ok.” He responds trying to make you feel better.

“I’m sorry I really didn’t mean it that way, it's just that when I'm nervous I tend to just speak and not think.” You explained as you loaded the last plate into the dishwasher and closed it.

“Do I make you nervous?” Armando asked as he placed the rag on a rack so it could dry.

“Yes but not for the reasons you might think.” You said.

You dried your hand and took him on a tour of the house, you showed him the pool/backyard area, the laundry room, and the small house gym it had inside. And then start to make your way to the garage.

“And this is the garage, the last place we needed to cover the whole house.” You said while guiding him in. 

“It’s a nice place, I parked my bike out front. Is it okay if I bring it in here?” He asked while still examining the garage.

“Yeah of course,” you said before opening the garage door for the last spot.

He made his way out and in about 2 minutes he came back on his motorcycle. Something about him on the motorcycle made you feel hot, he noticed you staring. 

“You want to take a ride?” he asked.

“Is it safe this late at night?” you respond, even though you knew you wanted to get with no doubt.

“Yeah we will be fine, let's go.” He said while offering you his helmet.

“But what will you wear?” You asked as you took the helmet in your hands.

“I’ll be fine,  I'm experienced and your safety is more important anyway,” he said while starting the bike. You felt your face get hot when he said that your safety is more important. So you took the helmet put it on and hopped on behind him.

“Is it okay if I put my arms around you, I’m not sure what to hold on to?” You asked. When the words left your mouth you realized what you had just said. 

“Yeah, whatever you want.” He said. 

You put your arms around his waist causing your body to come into very close proximity with his. To the point where your whole body was pressed to his back and your arms were looped around his waist.

“You ready?” He asked.

You responded with a nod and he started to back up out of the garage, and into the street. Before you knew it you guys were riding around the streets of Miami, and all of it felt good. The wind, the adrenaline, and the feeling of Armando’s body close to you. He smelled amazing; it was like a woody and Ambery scent that just made you want to stay on top of him for the whole night.

Before you realized it you were both making your way back into the garage. The bike came to a stop, and you unclasped your arms from around his waist and took off the helmet. 

“Thank you, that was fun,” you said before getting completely off the bike.

“Yeah anytime Princess,” he said before placing his helmet on the bike and shutting the garage door. You gave him a small nod and walked back into the house. On your way to your room, you remembered the feeling of being on the bike with him, his scent, and how he called you Princess. This caused you to smile like a little kid in a candy store. 

When you made it into your room you decided to take a shower. But when you started taking your shirt off you felt his scent on your shirt, and instead of throwing it in your laundry bag, you threw it to your bed. 

You took a nice hot shower washed your hair too, did your skincare, and put your hair in a towel waiting for it to dry. You put on pajamas and lay on your bed for about 30 minutes waiting for your hair to finish drying. But then until you got thirsty and decided to go get a water bottle.

You opened your door and took a peek down the hallway and noticed that the downstairs light was on. You remembered turning it off, so it had no reason to be on. You quietly made your way downstairs to the kitchen where you found Armando looking through the fridge. Before you said anything you took a moment to admire his toned arms and abs that trailed down to his lower stomach area.

You snapped out of it and finally decided to say something. 

“Hey did you need something?” you asked pretending you were just now walking into the kitchen. 

“Yeah I was looking for cold water but there aren’t any in here.” He replied. As soon as he said that his eyes examined your body and what you were wearing. 

“I think I have a water case in my trunk. Do you mind bringing it in?” you asked.

“Yeah I can.” you then led him to the garage and grabbed your keys from the key holder to unlock your car. You could feel him staring at you, but you weren't sure if he was staring for the right reasons. But then you were wearing pajama shorts that sat on the tip of your ass, and your cropped spaghetti strap wasn’t helping but that was what you packed.

After he brings the water in and places it on the counter, you lock your car, grab a water bottle, and start walking upstairs which he follows behind you. Now you both stood in front of your room doors.

“Thank you for bringing the water in.” you spit out trying not to get distracted by his figure.

“Yeah no problem,” he said before you could turn the knob for your door. 

“OK. Goodnight Armando.” You shortly replied. And before you closed your door you heard it.

“Goodnight princess,” he said before fully closing his door.

You closed your door and your face began to feel hot again, you were blushing. At that moment you realized you did have a crush on Armando. You laid on your bed replaying the moments from tonight and little by little fell asleep. 

Tomorrow was going to be a long day, and you were going to need all the energy you had.

______________________________________________________________

Taglist: @cardi-bre91 @believeinthefireflies95 

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Hi guys hope you guys liked it, share your thoughts and the next part might take me more time because it is longer but will be posted in the 2-3 days. <3

[aperrywilliams]

More Than You Expect (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

——————

Author Masterlist

Part 1: More Than You Know

Part 2: More Than You Say

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!exBAU!Reader.

Summary: You have a new life, and Spencer isn't in it. But somehow, you both cross paths again. Will it be just like the wind passing, or will it stick?

Word Count: 7k

TW: ANGST WITH "HOPEFUL" ENDING. Strong language. Mention of sex, illicit acts, jail, typical CM things. A character gets injured (nothing life-threatening). If I forgot something, please let me know.

A/N: The last part of the trilogy "More Than You..." It's done, folks. What started like a one-shot a year ago is complete now. Thank you for all the comments I got about this one, your likes, and your reblogs. Tell me your thoughts about it.

——————

Big changes are usually something people are eager for or afraid of. You are in the second group. You don't like changes. There's no way you stayed in the BAU for more than a decade if it weren't in part for fear of making big changes in your life.

It's not that you don't like to imagine new things or dream of something different, but uncertainty is something you aim to avoid at all costs.

Although your predisposition, when you confessed your feelings to Spencer on a fateful afternoon at the BAU three years ago, you knew a big shift was coming, and there was no turning back. That same night, after he left your apartment, you knew it would be the last time you would see him.

And boy, that one was a hell of a change.

After thirteen years of spending together almost every day, he would no longer be a part of your life.

You handed your resignation letter to Emily the next morning. She tried to convince you to stay, but deep down, Prentiss knew whatever reason she could give you, it wasn't enough. You had already made up your mind.

-----------

From one big city to another. New York welcomed you with open arms. The NY FBI field office did, too.

Although you chose to stay as an FBI agent, your job would be slightly different from the one you had been doing at the BAU when you joined the Organize Crime division.

It was a little intimidating at first. There was a lot of action, certainly a lot of undercover missions, a bunch of criminals, too many drug busts and guns. In summary, a lot of everything. But with time, you learned that OC has so plenty of shit targets as the BAU had. It wasn't rare to come face to face with psychopaths sometimes. And your training as a profiler has come in handy more than once.

After you left DC, you never looked back. You asked Emily to please not tell anyone where you would go. You also write a letter to Garcia, pleading not to track you down, assuring her you would be fine, and if the future would make you cross paths again, so be it, but please do not push it. She replied with a full four-page letter, agreeing with your request but giving you her thoughts about why she felt you were doing wrong.

You appreciated her honestly, but it was done.

No listening to Prentiss's instructions, Spencer tried to reach you regardless. Your phone kept receiving daily calls and texts for months. You didn't reply to any of them.

Until someday, it stopped.

You should have felt relief, and sort of you did, but it was a bittersweet feeling knowing the last string that kept it joined to your old life was cut.

That was the change, and you took it.

Were you doing okay? Did you accept it without consequences? No.

But the new job needed to do its magic. You were so consumed by what you were committed to doing that nothing else mattered.

In the past three years, you have gone undercover so many times, some of them with direct life risk, but you were in one piece. You have been shot and stabbed, though, giving you enough scars to talk about.

Your teammates were and are still very surprised by your versatility and compromise. Your philosophy? Do the job, take another case, work your ass on it, and catch the bad guys.

They even started calling you the Lone Ranger. Why? Although your work involves a task group with more agents, most of the time, your missions are in solitary— weeks or months of not having contact with your team until there is some break in the case.

Once the job is done, you return home and just shut off from the world.

You only socialize after work a little or the bare minimum. Just a few colleagues know things about you besides your prominent former career as a profiler in DC. And certainly, nobody knows the true reason why you moved to New York in the first place.

It's better this way, and you are used to it.

And what about your current love life? While in DC, you didn't have one because you were pining for Spencer; in New York, you don't have one because nothing seems too serious to think of it.

Flings? Of course. But that's all. In some way, you became the same kind of person you criticized in Spencer.

Life works in mysterious ways.

-----------

"The NYPD called us an hour ago asking for one of our most wanted, Vincent Clark," your boss, Agent Lindstrom, says as Monday's morning meeting starts.

It's not something uncommon. Local police have their own OC task force, and you have worked together more than once. The weird thing is that from one moment to the next, they request information from a target, of which, in theory, only your team knows.

"And they want information because-" you enunciate the obvious question.

"They're working on a case involving a string of civilian murders in Manhattan, and for some reason, his name came up," Lindstrom fills.

"Murders? It doesn't sound like Clark's MO," John Miller - a colleague - muses.

"Certainly not. NYPD has to be wrong," you back Miller's observation.

"And why NYPD-OC are investigating civilian murders? Does it have to do with some kind of operation?" Adam Taylor - another teammate - asks.

"Not quite. The local task force is helping 1PP because things have been escalating pretty quickly," Lindstrom explains. "But we here must find out why Clark is a person of interest and verify if they're indeed wrong about him. We don't want them to blow up our intel for no reason. So, Taylor and (Y/L/N), you're assigned to go with NYPD and help to clear this up."

That's how you got a new assignment. And not as undercover; that's a shift.

Taylor is driving this time, and you only look out the window, focusing on nothing in particular.

"You okay?" He asks after some time, resting a hand on your knee. You turn to see him.

"Yeah, why?"

"You are too quiet. Maybe you are mad at me?" Taylor asks tentatively. You raise an eyebrow.

"Why would I?" He clears his throat at your question.

"Well. Because, you know, we haven't talked about the other night."

The other night. Adam is referring to when you came back from your last undercover mission of four months and ended up in his bed at the end of the day.

You tensed at his response. You knew it was a bad idea to sleep with him, but you always thought about it as stress relief, and you thought he understood the same.

"There is nothing to talk about, Adam. We both know what it was." You try to sound cool but soft as well so as not to hurt feelings - if they were there.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. I just was making sure you were okay with it."

Why do men have the compulsion to mask a question that only cares about them, like uninterested concern about you?

"I am. Don't worry," you assure Adam with a confident smile.

To your ease, the conversation ends there.

You always have kept your distance in this job, with the prerogative of not getting involved with colleagues. What went on with Taylor is still bothering you because it was something that shouldn't have happened in the first place.

-----------

The NYPD quarters welcome you with Captain Novak's handshake. Soon, you learn he wasn't aware the locals had called your boss for intel.

"I'm sorry you had to come here. We are already having the FBI help on this," Novak explains. It's a way to say they don't need you there.

But you have a job to do, so you can't just leave.

"Due to the information we got, I think we can be useful too, Captain," you point, as Taylor backs you up saying something similar.

Novak understands he should use all hands available, so he agrees to have you stay and join the group working on the case.

"Yeah. I think any information would be useful in this case. Come on, I'm going to introduce you to the task group working on this." You and Taylor follow him down a hall to the end, where a large meeting room is.

After opening the door, Novak is ready to make the formal introductions.

"As I told you, an FBI unit is helping us on this. Here is the BAU team. Agent Prentiss, Rossi, Alvez, Jareau, Lewis, and Reid."

Your breath suddenly hitch in your throat at the sight of your old team there. And everyone is looking back at you with a perplexed look as well.

Novak continues talking. "These are Agent (Y/L/N) and Taylor from the OC division." After a second of contemplation, Novak let out a chuckle. "Ha, it's weird. I have to introduce two FBI teams working on the same case with the NYPD."

The guy has a bizarre sense of humor, but he has a sense of humor nonetheless; you have to give him that.

Not that you keep a count, but it has been three years, two months, and twenty days since the last time you saw them. Plus seven hours if you consider the last time you saw Spencer. Since the night you kicked him out of your apartment.

You can't help but make eye contact with him. You both look shocked. And how not to be? Neither of you woke up this morning thinking about seeing each other again.

"Agent (Y/L/N), it's nice to see you again. Good thing OC wants to help here. I can tell you about what we have got so far."

Emily speaks, breaking the silence and setting the rules of the current interaction. She is as surprised as everyone, but it would be time for that later.

It's a welcomed way out of the uncomfortable moment, and you take it.

"Sure. Do you think Agent Taylor could catch up with the intel you got from the current suspect?"

Emily nods. "Of course, Lewis, Reid, can you help agent Taylor on that? Captain Novak, maybe you can give some insight from the locals, too?"

Tara and Novak agree verbally, while Spencer only gives a curt nod.

Spencer makes brief eye contact with you before leaving the room.

Hell, what were the odds of something like this happening? You chose OC in another city precisely because you would hardly end up working on the same case.

Well, fuck the improbability.

When you're left alone with the rest, you don't know whether to ignore the elephant in the room or acknowledge the three years in which none of them have heard from you.

"It's good to see you, bella," Rossi cuts your mind spiral.

"Yeah, hope New York has treated you well," Luke seconds.

"I'm sure OC is happy to have you," JJ adds.

Each one of your former teammates offers you positive words you didn't expect to hear after leaving the way you did.

"Thank you, guys," you mumble gratefully.

Prentiss speaks up before things turn too emotional.

"Okay, okay. We'll have time for that later. Now, we need to crack this case. Tell us (Y/N) what can help us catch this unsub?"

You proceed to explain your concern about whether they are focusing on the wrong suspect. Emily listens to you carefully, and the rest share their impressions. There is no clear conclusion, but you decide to proceed with caution, given Vincent Clark's importance to your team.

"Okay. This is what we are going to do. Luke, you and JJ track Clark's associates first. Discretely, of course. Dave, can you check with Garcia about what these buildings in this list have in common?"

Once they are all gone with a task in hand, you stay alone with Emily.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know they would call you for this case," Prentiss muses. Your mouth goes agape. Why is she apologizing to you?

"Emily, it's okay. It's me who should be sorry for disappearing like that. I - I never contacted you, and you have the right to -" You can't finish your idea because Emily cuts you off.

"I know what are you going to say, and no. We are not mad (Y/N), we understand. You didn't want to be found, and we get that."

You surely appreciate her reassurance, but it doesn't make the guilt go away.

"Spencer does, too?"

Emily furrows her eyebrows. "In a way, I think he does. But he won't tell you that," she confides.

It's better than nothing.

"Is he okay, though?" You ask, believing if his life improved after your departure, you could feel a bit less shitty.

"I can't answer that. You will have to ask him."

Emily's assertiveness strikes again, you think. She's right. It's unfair to talk about Spencer with you when you were adamant about her not speaking with him about you.

You nod. "Fair enough."

For the rest of the day, things are pretty hectic. Police officers and FBI agents are coming and going; new information comes to check, and there are more witnesses to interview. There's so much movement that you haven't been able to stop a second and think about how you feel seeing Spencer after three years.

Emily has been cautious about not assigning you tasks where you might coincide, but you still can see him in the police station, and you've even exchanged furtive glances from time to time.

Taylor catches you doing it one of those times.

"What's wrong?" At the question, you turn to see him.

"Uh? No. Nothing." You're too distracted to notice Adam doesn't believe you.

"So, they are your former team in DC," he remarks, trying to get you talking. Since you arrived at 1PP, you have barely said a word not work-related to Taylor.

"Yeah." It's the best you can give him. You know what Adam is doing, but you won't engage. You have a lot on your plate already.

Your mind starts mulling the idea of talking to Spencer. But why would you do that? You were very clear the last time you spoke about your need to step aside. You were explicit to him about not having the strength to keep supporting him in his free fall. Sure, he promised to change and all that jazz, but you knew staying would only have brought you more pain and disappointment.

Despite all the reasoning, in the back of your brain, there is still the question of whether he really did what he said he would do. It's a morbid thought you have sometimes entertained.

Taylor's hand on your shoulder brings you out of your thoughts. You look at him in a daze. "Novak is calling us," he announces, frowning. Adam knows there's more going on in your head than you let on, and he has a suspicion about what - or rather who - it's about.

-----------

It's late at night, and still, there are no clues solid enough to catch the unsub. You all start to feel the exhaustion but keep going. You haven't seen Spencer, Tara, or Rossi in a few hours, so you think Emily sent them to the hotel for the night.

Taylor told you he needed a break as well. So you're alone in one of the offices, going through folder after folder in case you overlooked something.

You're so focused that you jump when you notice the silhouette of someone standing in the doorway.

It's Spencer.

"Jesus! You scared me," you exclaim with a hand over your chest.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to do that," Spencer apologizes, closing the door behind him. His voice is calm and collected. You inspect him with curious eyes.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, a little harsher than you have liked. Spencer contemplates his response for a couple of seconds.

"Uh, I just wanted to say hi and to know if you were doing okay?"

His voice is unsure, and you look at him in disbelief. It's your confusion that prompts him to continue. "Well, if this had happened months after you left, I would possibly have come to yell and accuse you for leaving like that. Now? Just let's say I wanted to make sure you are doing okay," he clarifies, hands in his pockets.

"Well. I'm doing okay. I hope that satisfies your curiosity." Your response is curt and snarky, and you don't know really why. He hasn't said anything out of the ordinary. Spencer doesn't seem surprised by your tone, though.

"It does. Thank you."

And maybe it's enough for Spencer to turn and leave you alone, but you have the question at the tip of your tongue.

"So you're not mad at me?"

Spencer narrows his eyes. "Uh, I didn't say I'm not mad. I said I'm not here to throw it at you," he clarifies.

For some reason, the answer to your own question ignites an old bitterness you thought was gone.

"Oh, thank you very much," you mock. "A bit bold of you, don't you think?"

Spencer scoffs. "Bold? Bold being mad after you left from one day to the next?"

And there you go. So, Spencer's main problem is that you left in a hurry rather than the reason why you did it.

"What did you expect? Did you think I was going to stay after what happened?" You ask with incredulity, standing from your spot and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Maybe not. But head-ups would have been nice," Spencer matches your sarcasm.

"Yeah, and a goodbye party, too," you deadpan, and Spencer breathes a humorless laugh. Your irony is pushing his buttons the way you know it does, even after all these years. But why are you doing it? You don't really know.

"(Y/N), you literally disappeared! I was - we all were worried. I know you didn't want to talk to me or see me, for that matter. But why leave the BAU like that?"

Spencer looks distraught just at the mention of that fact. You don't interrupt his rant.

"For months, I really thought something bad had happened to you until Emily told me you were actually okay and that I should stop bothering you."

"It took you long enough," you mutter under your breath.

For a long time, you thought your reaction and later decision to leave like that was too much. Maybe it wasn't necessary to drop everything to start over, but you knew if you wanted to leave behind thirteen years of a lot of things, thirteen years of Spencer Reid, you needed to do something big—a major change.

"Yeah. It took me long enough. But don't expect me to be cool about it. It hurt (Y/N). It hurt like hell," Spencer admits.

"Why? Weren't you living the life you wanted?" you ask sardonically, and you see how Spencer's jaw clenches.

"You know I didn't. And I told you back then I realized about that, too," Spencer says, referring to the last time you saw each other—the night you kissed, and he told you he loved you, but you didn't believe him.

"But I get it. I understood why you didn't trust I was telling the truth, and it was fair. But to disappear like that? It was a lot (Y/N)."

In some way, you truly think Spencer's feelings about what happened are reasonable, and even you can understand the grudge he holds against you. But you are not in place to admit that to him. Not when the memory of what happened starts to burn in your brain and heart again.

"Are you done?" Pettiness is the only thing at hand you can use for now.

Spencer sighs. "I don't want you to think I'm admonishing you or whatever you think I'm doing. I really get I did wrong back then, and I hurt you. I'm not dismissing that fact."

"Good! Because here I was thinking you already forgot," you state, raising your voice.

"Jesus, (Y/N). Can you stop that?" Spencer's voice raises, too, to match yours.

You are about to make another remark when the door opens.

"(Y/L/N), we are going to -," Taylor starts to say but is cut off when he sees you with Spencer arguing. You both get startled and turn to see him. "Am I interrupting?" Taylor questions with eyebrows furrow.

"No-"

"Yes-"

You and Spencer reply in unison and make Taylor hesitate. "(Y/N)?" he asks you directly this time, tentatively approaching. He looks worried, and you don't want to make a fuss right now.

"It's okay, Adam. We are discussing something about the case. I'll finish here and join you, okay?" you say, with a soothing hand on his elbow.

"Yeah, okay. Yeah. I'll be with Novak," an unconvinced Taylor says as he retracts from the office, leaving you and Spencer alone again.

When you turn to see Spencer, he has his eyes trained on you, analyzing you. It's a piercing gaze you haven't seen in him in a long time—years, to be exact.

"What?" You ask, trying to break the trance. It seems to work because Spencer clears his throat.

"Nothing. Uh. I should go. Emily must be looking for me," he mumbles before passing you. Almost leaving the office, he turns for a moment.

"I really wanted to know you were okay. I'm sorry for what I said after that."

When the door closes behind him, you are left standing, questioning whether the last ten minutes have actually happened.

-----------

'I'm sorry for what I said after that.'

Why is he sorry? Is it because he didn't mean it? Is it because he didn't want you to know?

It's not that you feel guilty, or maybe you do to some extent. Whatever it is, the thought of Spencer in the past three years has haunted you in many ways and forms.

Yeah, you came to New York to put distance between yourself and him, but what you never saw coming is that sole fact started to weigh on you in many aspects of your life. At first, you thought that due to the bond you both had forged for years, things would not look very good. Sure, it was going to take a lot of work, but you thought time would do its magic.

You tried—you have been trying hard. And even though you still believe it was the right thing to do, why have you yet to make peace with yourself?

Why has happiness been elusive to you? You haven't been able to make real friends; you haven't been able to have a healthy relationship. You've immersed yourself in the job, hoping sooner rather than later, the moment when the pieces finally fit together will come.

Will it ever happen?

When you think about that, your mind wanders to Spencer and whether what you're feeling now is anything like how he felt at the time. Or maybe how he still feels. You don't know. The times you have thought about it always end with the conclusion it's not the same. He had you back then. You don't have anybody.

Seeing him now only has fueled your self-struggle, and although you think it's not fair to take it on him this time, your actions haven't reflected that thought.

After considering your encounter in the precinct office, you concluded the best thing to do is to keep the peace between you both. To be civil and avoid the bickering. You are an adult; you can do that.

What you didn't expect is it hasn't been necessary to put your resolution into practice since you haven't run into Spencer again. The times you've seen him, he's barely made eye contact and immediately gone in the opposite direction from you.

In the meantime, the hours have passed, and you are almost ending your second day on the case, at least with more progress than the day before.

There is a good clue about who the unsub is—Albert Thomas, who has a direct link to Vincent Clark, your target from OC. Indeed, the unsub would be part of Clark's team.

Given that, you and Taylor inform your boss, and he allows you to participate in the takedown only if you can get Clark as well. It would be the conclusion of more than a year of chasing him.

It is a complicated operation, so everyone—officers from the NYPD, the BAU, and the OC division—prepares to catch Thomas and those involved with him.

Upon arriving at the abandoned building where you expect Thomas to be, Emily sends you in pairs to different points. You go with Taylor to cover the back door. Upon entering, you realize it is suspiciously quiet. The lighting is bad, but you don't want to use your flashlight so as not to alert them about your presence. You go first, and Taylor covers you. You arrive at a room where some light sneaks in. You go a little forward and peek, realizing Clark is filling some briefcases with money. He has his back on you, so he doesn't notice your presence.

"FBI! Hands up!" you shout, approaching with your gun pointed at Clark. He turns around but doesn't seem scared. Why? He is not alone.

Unfortunately, that thought comes too late. In a matter of seconds, Thomas pounces on you, throwing you to the floor. Your weapon falls meters from you. You know Taylor is behind you, but you see Clark grab his briefcases and run towards another escape door.

“(Y/N)!” Taylor shouts, and you barely hear him in your fight with Thomas. But you know if he stops to help you, you'll lose Clark.

"Go for Clark!" You shout him back, rolling on the ground after Thomas jabs your face with his fist.

You can't see Taylor, but you know he is hesitant. "Go!" you insist until you hear him running outside. Now, you can focus on Thomas. You manage to asset a blow to his jaw and push him away from you, but as you are kneeling and about to stand, he is on the floor pointing you a gun.

Where did he get that?

He is going to shoot you. You can see it in his eyes. You know the profile, too. He hasn't nothing to lose. You need to think fast. Talking to him won't make a difference. You decide your best chance is launching at him and pray the bullet doesn't hit you badly.

But before you can do so, you hear a gunshot. You close your eyes because you think it's coming from Thomas's gun. When you notice you don't feel any impact and you hear Thomas's screams of pain, you dare to open your eyes.

Spencer is standing with his revolver pointed at him. He was the one who shot, preventing Thomas from shooting you.

You let out a sigh of relief before collapsing to the floor. Although you didn't get shot, you are very beaten up, and the adrenaline rush leaves you without the energy to keep yourself on your feet.

Spencer is fast to catch you before you hit your head. There is commotion around, but you can barely hear anything. Even Thomas's screams sound far away.

"Hey, hey. I've got you," Spencer mumbles, adjusting you in a lying position, holding the back of your head in his hands.

"Thank you," you breathe out.

You won't notice much of what happens next. Paramedics come to check you out, but you only focus on the squeeze of Spencer's hand in yours. It's the only thing that grounds you as your eyes begin to feel progressively heavy. There comes a point where everything goes black, and you lose consciousness.

When you wake up, you are in a hospital bed. You see Adam with his back to you, talking on the phone, possibly to your boss. When he hangs up the call, you get his attention.

"What happened?" Your voice is raspy, so you assume it's been a couple of hours since you got there. Taylor turns and gives you a little smile.

"It's good to see you awake."

Adam tells you he caught Clark, and they can link him not only to Thomas's murders but to all the evidence against him you have been collecting over the last year. Adam also tells you what the doctor said about your condition. Despite the pretty bad blows you got, there is nothing serious, and you will be able to be discharged in a few hours.

"Where is Spencer?" you blurt out, not fully registering what you asked. A slip you quickly try to disguise. "I mean, the BAU. They have Thomas in custody?"

"Yeah. They brought Thomas to check the GWS, and after his discharge, he got into custody. And yeah, Agent Prentiss and Agent Reid came to check on you a few times," Taylor adds to his recounting with a knowing look you prefer to ignore.

Why does learning they came to check on you make your chest feel warm? You blame the medication the doctors surely gave you.

As Taylor said, a few hours later, you are discharged from the hospital with instructions to go home and not back to work in a week.

Your boss gives you the instructions on the phone. He sounds very happy to have Clark in custody and even mentions a promotion for you for such a successful operation.

You should be happy, right? But in all honesty, it doesn't feel like it.

You decide to go home to catch some needed sleep. Maybe sleeping helps to stop overthinking things. But before you can doze off, a ding from your phone grabs your attention.

Emily P: 'I hear you were discharged. We are leaving tomorrow morning. Would you like to celebrate with us and have a drink tonight? For old-time's sake?'

A nostalgic smile forms on your lips. A drink with your old team? Why not? Even if Spencer is going to be there, you already think it's time to make peace with what happened for your own good and mental health.

-----------

The sound of music and laughter makes the bar feel lively and festive. Upon entering, that's the first thing you notice. The second thing you notice is you haven't been to this place for a while, being one of your regulars when you just moved to New York. At the back of the bar, you can see Emily, Luke, JJ, Rossi, Tara, and Spencer talking and laughing, each with their drink of choice. It's good to see them like this, relaxed, enjoying the moment. It brings back very good memories.

"(Y/N)!" Emily calls you, and everyone turns to see you. You wave and stroll where they are.

When you sit down, the first thing they do is ask you how you feel after the beating Thomas gave you. You don't know if it's on purpose or not, but no one is referring to the fact he almost put a bullet in you.

The conversation flows animatedly. While you tell the most notable anecdotes from your missions in OC, they review some of their most important cases from the last three years of the BAU. The ones who talk the most are Emily, Luke, and Rossi. While JJ and Tara rather break jokes and are more affected by alcohol than the rest. Spencer is the quietest of all, but he also participates in the conversation and even asks you questions about the things you say.

If you thought it might be an awkward instance, your former team proves the opposite, even considering the circumstances and reasons why you left the BAU. And although no one refers to it, everyone tacitly knows that it is there.

They don't resent you. They understood you needed to leave, and although you didn't tell them the reasons, they knew. Even Spencer seems comfortable when you have thought he wouldn't.

The conversation comes to a stop when Emily raises her glass, clearing her throat.

"Well. Uh. It's a weird time for this, but I do think things happen for a reason," Emily prephase, looking at everybody. "So, okay. Here we are tonight with an old friend who left the nest a few years ago," Emily looks at you. "To say goodbye to another of our own who is also embarking on new paths," now her eyes settle on Spencer. "I wish you the best in your new life. We'll miss you a lot. To Reid and his last case at the BAU," Emily toasts.

As everyone raises their glasses and cheers, you can't help but look at Spencer with surprised eyes.

Is he really leaving the BAU? After all these years? Did his last case end with him saving you from a bullet?

He gives you a short glance before sipping his beer.

"Come on, we want a speech," Luke demands, and everyone backs him. You're still in shock to say anything.

Spencer's cheeks redden a bit as he clears his throat before speaking.

"When Gideon recruited me for this job, I never imagined all the things I would experience in 17 years working here—the good and bad. I will always fondly remember everyone I met here and had the honor of working with." Spencer's eyes now focus on you.

"On my first day, I was so nervous I thought I was going to mess it up. But in the conference room, I met someone who was also on her first day. Knowing I wasn't the only one helped me not to run away."

Everyone is listening with raptor attention, and you know they are looking at you from the corner of their eyes.

"Do you remember the times we said everyone would leave before us?" He asks you, and now it's your turn to feel your cheeks burn.

"Well, it didn't happen that way. But I guess Emily is right, and things happen for a reason," he muses. "I wish some things could have been different, but we can't change the past," he says before averting your gaze. "I only hope the bond we forged all these years remains, even if we don't see each other that much or at all. I thank you for everything you have done for me, especially at my lowest points. I apologize for the little I gave in return," his gaze returns to you. "Thank you, guys. I'll miss you all."

Everyone clinks glasses, and Spencer's eyes keep on you. Why does the air feel suffocating from one moment to the next? You don't know what to do; the intensity of his gaze is overwhelming, and you think if you don't do something, you will faint right there.

You discretely apologize and get up from your spot. You need air.

Once outside, the cold of the night hits your face, but it is welcomed.

Your heart is still beating fast. Why are you so affected? Is it because Spencer is leaving the BAU? Are the memories he brought back during the toast?

"Are you okay?" A shy voice says behind you. It's Spencer. He followed you outside. You turn to see him with pained eyes, and Spencer worries even more. "What is it? Do any of the bruises hurt?"

Spencer believes your discomfort is physical. How ironic. In the last hours, you had even forgotten the beating you got.

You shake your head. "No, I'm okay. It's not that," you admit, and Spencer doesn't say anything, waiting for you to continue. "Is it true? Are you leaving?" He nods. "Why?"

It's weird how that fact has shaken you—or maybe not that weird. You never pictured Spencer in a place other than the BAU. You even talked about it several times. Like you, Spencer has never liked to make big changes, and you understand him more than anyone because you still feel the same about that.

"It doesn't make sense for me to stay anymore. It has been like that for a while," he shrugs.

"But you love the BAU. You always told me it was your life," you remind him. Spencer lets escape a little chuckle.

"You told me the same thing years ago, and you left nonetheless."

"It wasn't the same," you dismiss, shaking your head.

"I know. But since then, I've been questioning my reasons to stay."

"Why?"

Spencer takes some seconds to contemplate his response.

"Well. Maybe because it should have happened sooner? Honestly, I think the only reason I lasted this long after I was released from prison is because you were there supporting me. And well, after that? It took me months of therapy to realize it and almost two years to make the decision," he confesses. You are quite shocked hearing him talk about prison and therapy. Those things were banned for to mention three years ago.

"Months of therapy?"

Spencer shrugs again. "What can I say? I took your advice. You were right. I needed help to know what I really wanted."

His words bring you back to that night. The last time you saw each other. You wondered for a long time if Spencer got to make sense of what you said to him. Did he understand how hard it was for you to decide to step aside?

"You know? At first, I started it because I had the secret hope you would come back. And I promised you to change. With time and the certainty I had lost you, I began to accept I had to do it for myself."

Spencer's eyes drift to the distance like he can see those moments of realization he had back then.

"Did you?" Your voice is soft, trying not to cut him off from his reminiscence. His gaze comes back to you.

"Yes. And I thank you for it. I know I said a lot of other things at the precinct, but above all, I understood. I still think it's unfair, though."

"Unfair? Why?"

"I pushed you to do something I'm sure you didn't want to. It was me who should have left, not you."

"Spencer-" you start to say, but he cuts you off.

"I know, it is done. But what I said at the toast? I really meant it. I wish some things would have been different. Jeez, there are a lot of things I should have done differently. I wish I hadn't gone to Mexico. I wish I had told you I loved you sooner. I wish I hadn't chickened out when we first kissed."

Spencer's voice trembles a little. He is pouring out a lot of emotions, and you are there trying to digest all of them.

"But you said it yourself. It's done." Your tone isn't accusatory rather than nostalgic. He nods, clearing his throat.

"I know. And I can't go back in time to change it," Spencer acknowledges.

"Why are you leaving, then?" You are not saying it as if it's the wrong thing to do this time; it's more that you need confirmation that he is not running from reality as he did back then.

"Because I need to find my fresh start, as you did it. Well, and because after 17 years, to stay catching serial killers is not healthy, according to my therapist," he pulls a face after his last statement, making you chuckle.

"Am I listening correctly? Will Spencer Reid do what a shrink recommended to him?" you quip.

"What can I say? I'm a new man," Spencer shrugs, and you smile for real.

It's clear to you that he says it jokingly, but there is some truth behind it. It is not that people can go completely against their essence, but time has proven to you that things can change, and it's not necessarily totally good or totally bad. It's just different in shades of gray. And as something different, there is nothing wrong in looking for another change from time to time, even if that throws you out of your comfort zone.

As you both stand there, you realize that things in life are not linear. They are constantly coming and going. It's laugh and cry, condemn and forgive, mess up and amend.

"It's getting cold here," you start, and Spencer nods. "But I know a coffee shop nearby that is open this hour. Would you-? I mean, so we can keep talking. You don't have to, of course. I know you guys have a flight early in the morning." It's tentative; you can't really read him. Are you overstepping? Your overthinking dissolves when you see a grin forming on Spencer's lips.

"I, uh. I'd love to. I mean, to keep talking. Sure."

"Great. Okay. This way," you point, starting to stroll down the sidewalk. You adjust your coat to shield your neck from the cold as Spencer shoves his hands in his own coat pockets, walking beside you.

In a comfortable silence, you both bask in each other company. Is it like it used to be? Not quite. But it's a familiarity you can relish—a newfound understanding of what changes mean between you both.

Enough to lead you to talk for hours, laughing at your own silliness and crying at the painful admissions, causing Spencer to lose his flight the next morning.

Enough to make you leave New York months later and start teaching at the FBI Academy while Spencer gets his tenure at Georgetown.

And who knows? Maybe it's the same understanding that, six months later, will make you pursue a new step after a kiss under the street lights on a cold night in DC.

——————

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers 

For those who asked for a part 2 or/and part 3: @gghostwriter @sebastiansstanswhore @evvy96 @pillsbury-doughgirl @singinghamtaro-blog @atlantica-angels @lukesmainpiece @ladyofhellhounds @gubzgirl @shqwqrma @hereforfun-31 @reader1402 @theoraekenslover @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @s1lngwns

[greywritesthings]

None of that

Derek Morgan x Platonic!Reader

Warnings - meltdown, self harm stims

Spencer Reid Masterlist

Masterlist

Read on Ao3 instead!

A/N - IDK when the next update for the Autistic! reader series will be but hopefully soon! Decided to focus on Derek on this one as iv seen a lot of Spencer x autistic reader ( the main focus of the one shot series ) but who doesn't love some rep for the other characters, I may also do Emily, JJ etc x autistic reader as their own one shots :) Reblogs, comments & likes always appreciated!!

Today had started off bad and just seemed to be getting worse. You had woken up without Spencer as he had to go off to Louisville with Hotch to do a death row interview at the last minuet meaning your carefully planned out schedule for the week now had a wrench thrown in it, something you didn't deal with at the best of times, let alone without your boyfriend. 

You had checked the weather when you were picking your outfit and it was supposed to be a mild but sunny day, so you picked a shirt and skirt with a sweater vest in case it went colder than expected but on your walk to the subway the skies suddenly opened and you got drenched to the bone before you could get under any decent form of shelter. You were lucky that your go bag was at the office but it meant spending your entire commute soaking wet.  

By the time you reached the office you were nearly at the point of a meltdown so you text Rossi to say you were here just taking time to calm down after a hellish commute. Once you finally walked into the bullpen you nearly flinched at the amount of noise and lights in the space. You knew today was going to be a bad one and you would be lucky to escape it without a meltdown. 

You took up Spencers desk for the day, a common occurrence when he was away as it brought you comfort, so you were next to Morgan and across from Emily, two people you adore on any given day aside from the fact that today you could hear the music coming from Morgans headphones just enough to the point it was driving you up the wall and combined with Emily's constant clicking of her pen as she did her paperwork and the buzzing of the various screens and lights around the room it was becoming too much but without Spencer here you were just frozen in place. You trusted the BAU with your life, literally more often than not but you still didn't want to have an outburst in the middle of your work day, especially when it was only another hour before Spencer was due back at work, the interview having been quicker than expected. 

“Can you stop! Please!” you snap at no one in particular but both Emily and Morgan freeze. You clap your hands over your mouth and make a break for Hotch's currently vacant office, a place he had specifically told you to use when he wasn't in it and you had learnt to listen to him after a few meltdowns in the FBI parking lot. You’re only half sure the door closes behind you as you fall into the corner of the office Hotch had shifted around specifically for your meltdowns. He had kept it dark so it all blended in and didn’t overwhelm you but it was all soft, cushions on the floor and wall with some small fidget toys in a box to the side so you could grab them. 

You can hear footsteps approaching the doorway and the door slowly creaking open and the footsteps slowly approach, it's not Hotch or Spencer. It can't be Emily, JJ or Garcia given they’re all in heels leaving it to be Morgan. “Hey baby girl, can you look at me?” he asks as he sits down cross legged in front of you, coming down to your level. “There you are, you gotta come back down to me okay sweetheart? I know you're overloaded right now” He keeps his voice low to try and encourage you to breathe. He didn't notice the fact that your hands are scratching at your arms until they were starting to bleed, “Hey hey hey mama none of that thank you okay, here grab my hands okay, you can squeeze as hard as you like, just no scratching yourself up okay?” He's not harsh about it, just firm. You grab onto his outstretched hands and he starts trying to guide your breathing. “There you go, see? You're doing it now. Do you want your fidgets? I can also go grab you a Hot chocolate or something, I don't have pretty boy on hand but he should be back in a half hour or so and Hotch has cleared you to go home when he's come back.” You smile at Morgan, reaching for the box of fidgets and grabbing one out. “I'm going to go grab you a Hot chocolate missy, behave while i'm gone okay?” You laugh as he leaves, settling back into the cushions with the fidget, nearly falling asleep.

Taglist - @reidstheyfriend , @oosnapitskat, @lover-of-books-and-tea

Add yourself here!

[hyper-fixated-delusions]

It’s like you’re my mirror.

Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader.

A/N: I hope you enjoy and I apologize for any mistakes! Also comments, reblogs, shares and likes are super appreciated, thank you! :)

Translation: “Mi amor.” My love.

“Mami.” Mommy.

Word count: 1,002.

Masterlist.

Wanda had just gotten home from grocery shopping when she noticed her house was quiet. A little too quiet, considering Billy and Tommy were out from kindergarten early today.

But as she began to move about the kitchen putting away the groceries she thought nothing of it, thinking that maybe her wife and sons were upstairs in their room, watching a movie like they did every Tuesday on their early dismissal day.

As Wanda finished putting the last of groceries away and still not a peep was heard throughout the house she began heading upstairs to search the rooms.

Her first stop was Billy and Tommy’s room, thinking maybe the twins got bored of watching the film mid way like they always did and decided to come play with their toys instead, but as she checked the room it was completely spotless and empty. Letting her know they were probably still with you, so she made her way to your shared bedroom.

Wanda knocks softly on the door, pushing it open slowly and peeking her head in as to not disturb you and the boys from whatever she expected to see you watching, but the sight that greets her instead has her completely enamored.

There in front of her very own eyes were a sleeping Y/N, Billy and Tommy. Feeling her heart swell with happiness at the way her sons and wife were sleeping.

The three of them were laying on their left side, lips pouty, faces serene; not an ounce of worry on their features. Each hugging a pillow in the same way, as the trio also had a leg slightly bent.

Wanda quickly makes her way downstairs to retrieve her phone so she can snap a quick few photos to show you once you wake up to help diminish the fears that have been pestering you these past few weeks.

Fears over the possibility that your sons may never display some of your traits. Fears that your boys will never fully accept you because you are not their biological mother.

Smiling as she looks at the pictures, Wanda feels her heart swell at the prospect of easing your worries and decides to let you and the boys continue on napping while she gets started on a late lunch.

Humming to herself as she moves around the kitchen making a quick light meal, she squeals in surprise when she feels arms suddenly wrap around her waist from behind.

"Y/N!" Wanda exclaims, heart beating wildly in her chest, "you scared the hell out of me," she laughs, turning in your arms, taking in the sight of your disheveled hair and slightly sleepy eyes.

"I'm sorry mi amor, I tried calling you, but you were in your own world," you smile tenderly, your eyes closing as Wanda runs a hand through your hair to tame it.

"Did you nap okay?" The redhead asks softly.

"Mm-hmm," you hum contentedly, Wanda's ministrations causing you comfort, "but I missed you," you pout slightly, "sleeping without you is never fun, but I had great company so I can’t complain,” you wink. “The boys had an exciting day today. According to them, their school put on a little decathlon of sorts all the physical activity must have tired them out," you laugh softly, "both fell asleep during the first 5 minutes of the movie and seeing them sleep made me sleepy so I decided to nap as well, sorry I wasn't awake to help you put the groceries away," you apologize and Wanda shakes her head pressing light kisses to your lips.

"No need to worry my love, I know how stressful these past few weeks have been, I'm just glad you got some rest," your wife says, hands caressing your face softly and smile widening as she remembers the pictures she took while you were asleep, "also I want to show you something exciting that happened while you were sleeping," Wanda says, eyes shining bright with happiness.

"Aww man, what'd I miss?" You say with a small frown at the prospect of missing out on something cool.

Wanda laughs at your expression, "you're going to love this, trust me," she says as she begins to pull the pictures up, handing you her phone so you can see what she is so excited about, "here," the redhead says, biting her lip in anticipation.

As you hold the cellular device in your hand and inspect the image of you and the twins mirroring each other while asleep, you can't help but let out a watery laugh, "oh my god babe," you whisper softly, "my boys, Max, they're really my boys," you chuckle, as you look at Wanda, tears pouring out of your eyes in happiness.

The redhead approaches you, hands cradling your face tenderly, "they are baby, they are your boys, and they love you so so much, it's clear to see. I mean they mirror you for crying out loud," Wanda laughs tearily, feeling her own emotions well up at the fact that you are so happy at this realization. "I have never doubted that they were yours my love, you may not have had them and biology be damned, but they are your sons, what more proof do we need baby?" Your wife says and you smile happily.

"I love you so much, Max. Thank you, thank you so much for giving me this beautiful gift. Mi amor, words will never be able to explain what this means to me," you smile tearfully, kissing Wanda softly.

As both you and your wife get lost in each other for a moment, a pair of voices interrupt your loving make out session, “mami!” Both you and Wanda hear exclaimed, making you pull apart with a small laugh.

“Your boys beckon you, my love,” your wife says with a beaming smile.

“My boys,” you say happily, placing a quick kiss to Wanda’s lips before you make your way to the stairs with a huge grin on your face.

[ninii-winchester]

You’d never know (Final)

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 1.8k

Warnings : slight angst, fluff, steamy kisses (?)

A/n : just so you know I’m not a doctor.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

"I just had a vision." Patience announced.

Claire who had been sobbing in Kaia's arms, looked up at her expectantly. She had been feeling guilty knowing it was meant for her but Y/n had saved her. She hated it, it was always Sam, Dean and Y/n saving her every damn time.

"What? What is it?" The blonde girl asked, looking at the psychic with hopeful eyes.

"She'll live." The moment Patience said that, couple of relived breaths were heard along with a flapping of wings.

Castiel appeared at the boatyard and knelt beside Y/n's almost lifeless body. Dean looked at his best friend with relief and gratefulness.

"I came as soon as Sam called." Cas said placing his hand over the wound, he couldn't heal her completely since he was not at his full potential but he managed to close the wound enough to stop the bleeding, however the wound was still present. Her heart rate had picked up and was beating steadily but she remained unconscious. "You need to take her to the hospital right now." The Angel added.

Dean didn't waste a second before hauling her up in his arms and running out of the boatyard. The others followed behind. While Sam and Cas went to the hospital with Dean, Jody and Donna took the girls back home, with the promise of coming to see her soon.

They arrived at the hospital soon enough and Y/n was taken to the ER. Dean had spent the past hour pacing around the hallway.

"Sammy, thank you for calling Cas. She wouldn't have made it, had you not. God I wasn't even in my senses....I" Dean rambled nervously walking back and forth, waiting for the doctors to tell him something, anything. After an hour or so a doctor emerged from the room.

"Y/n Paige's next of kin?" The doctor called out and Dean's pacing came to a halt.

"It's me." He said walking up to the doctor.

"You're her?" The doctor questioned.

"Husband." Dean nodded trying to look convincing enough. "I'm her husband."

"Well Mr. Paige your wife's condition is stable for now. The stab wound was pretty deep, but it managed to avoid any vital organs or nerve damage. We've cleaned and closed the wound. But we still need to keep her under observation for a few days. And she needs to rest." The doctors words seemed to ease Dean out of his misery. "Your wife is a lucky one Mr. Paige, and one hell of a fighter." That made Dean smile a bit. "A wound like that," the doctor trailed off with a sputter. "God saved her." He added. Dean looked back his best friend, mentally correcting the doctor.

It wasn't God who saved her, it was an Angel of the Lord.

"Can i see her, doctor?" Dean asked hopefully.

"Sure we'll shift her to a private room and then you can see her. Although she might be asleep for a long time." The doctor said before he left.

Sam came behind his brother and patted him on the back. Uncharacteristically Dean turned around and hugged his brother, shuddering a bit as he did so. He was about to lose the love of his life. Had it not been his brother's quick thinking, he would've lost her forever. Sam happily returned his brother's embrace, hoping to provide him with a sense of comfort.

After Y/n was shifted to a private room, Dean went in to see her. He settled on the chair beside her bed. His hand found hers and he held onto it for dear life. He pressed a kiss to get knuckles before he spoke,

"Baby, I'm so fucking sorry. Please just wake up." Dean sniffled a bit resting his head on her hand. "I love you. I'll be right here when you wake up."

Dean didn't know when he fell asleep but he expected Y/n to be awake he woke up. Much to his dismay she wasn't. It was around three in the morning, The machines in the room were beeping steadily, and he had hoped for her to wake up soon. The more he waited the more anxious he felt. Thousands of what ifs creeped up in his mind. What if she doesn't wake up? What if she doesn't forgive me? Hell what if she doesn't remember me?

Three hours later, Dean felt her move. Her fingers brushed against his' as she slowly blinked her eyes open. She immediately closed them back due to the bright lights. She blinked slowly before opening her eyes again.

"Dean?"

"Goodness baby you're awake." Dean sat up straight, relieved as ever. "I'm gonna get the doctor. The doctor checked her vitals and asked her basic questions. After the doctor was sure she was okay, he left the room.

"Do you need anything? Is anything hurting?" Dean asked standing beside her bed.

"Water please." Dean nodded and grabbed her a glass of water, bringing it near her face to help her drink it.

"Why?" Y/n whispered. Dean froze as he was putting away the glass. He hadn't expected her to jump right to it. He sighed sitting back on the chair.

"Sweetheart-"

"Why did you say that Dean? Has that always been on your mind? Do you think that i don't know what a mother is just because i never had one?" She asked quietly and Dean would've preferred her yelling at him instead of that because her small voice just shattered his heart into a million pieces.

"No, not at all baby I'm so sorry, i really am. I never wanted to say any of that, I wasn't thinking straight." Dean said as softly as possible. "I was just too stressed and she wasn't cooperating and you then you jumped in front of my gun. I just..."

"It doesn't justify your actions, Dean. You knew it was a sensitive subject for me and you just had to home." She cried and he sat on the bed beside her.

"Don't cry baby," he said wiping her years with his thumb. "It was a low blow and i would never forgive myself for what i said. I just need you to know I'm sorry. That i love you. And I'm nothing without you." Dean rested his forehead on hers and she didn't lean away from his touch. "I want you to know that my life literally went to shit since the moment we were apart. Got stuck in a goddamn bad place and you had to come save my ass." She chuckled through her tears. "If only i hadn't been so stupid, you wouldn't be here, I am sorry sweetheart."

"Dean, you hurt me." She said stating the obvious. "I really want to forgive you but it's hard. I need time. I need some time away." Dean's face fell at her words. He wasn't ready to let her go. Not now, not ever. He'd do anything for her to forgive him but he can't let her leave.

"Away?" Y/n nodded looking away. She didn't want to look at him, not when she's vulnerable and emotional. She knows the minute she looks into those mesmerising green eyes she'll fold. And she knows she'll forgive him eventually too but she can't do it right away. She needs to stand her ground.

"Baby I'll do whatever you want me to do just don't go anywhere. I'd do anything. You can't just leave. The bunker's your home, sweetheart. You need to rest and we won't be sure of your safety anywhere else."

"Dean-"

"Anything you want." Dean bargained pleadingly.

"I'll go back to bunker with you, on one condition."

"Anything."

"You'll give me space." Dean didn't want to. He wanted to refuse out right. He just wanted to hold her in his arms for as long he could.

"Let me take care of you until you heal." He caressed her cheek softly. He was making it harder for her than it already was. She was already putty in his hands and she knew she would forgive him sooner than she intended.

"You're so stubborn." Y/n groaned pushing his chest lightly. "Fine." Dean grinned at her placing a soft kiss at her forehead.

After Y/n was discharged from the hospital, Dean drove her back to the bunker. He had been the complete gentleman, from opening the car door for her to carrying her inside the bunker. He even brought her flowers before they left the hospital. He knows he fucked up big time but he's grateful that she intends to forgive him and he will never take that forgiveness for granted.

It took two weeks for Y/n's wound to heal completely and Dean had been going full on mother hen on her all through that time. All through this time Y/n had been distant and aloof. It did dishearten Dean to no end but he wasn’t willing to give up. He was taking care of her in every way possible.  Reprimanding her for walking on her own, not letting her do anything around the bunker, feeding her and reminding her to take her medicines on time. Not to forget bringing her flowers every time he went out.

Another week had passed and Y/n had been sleeping in own room for the past three weeks. She missed Dean. She knew he was remorseful of his actions. She quickly threw the blanket off her legs and made her way towards his room. She knocked on his door. The door opened revealing Dean, looking soft as ever in just a tshirt and sweatpants, his hair a bit ruffled.

"Were you sleeping?" She asked shyly.

"No." His voice a little gruff and tired. He rubbed his eyes with one hand while the other was still at the doorknob. She took a step forward.

"I missed you." She whispered before pressing her lips to his'. He was shocked at first but immediately grabbed the back of her head with his hand and kissed her roughly. The hand in her hair slipped down to her back and further down. He moved his arm under the curve of her rear and she jumped a bit wrapping her legs around his waist. He picked her up effortlessly and closed the door. He took her to bed without breaking the kiss and laying her onto the bed.

"Missed you so much, darling." He mumbled leaving open mouthed kissed onto her neck and jaw. Y/n grabbed the back of his head pulling him up for another steamy kiss. Their lips moved in perfect sync as well as their hearts beats.

"I love you." She murmured against his lips.

"God sweetheart, I love you more." He panted, pulling away, hovering above her. "I swear I'm never gonna do anything like that, ever again." Though his body was fire with insatiable lust but his eyes were filled with sincerity and adoration.

"You better not or else I'll-" He interrupted her threat.

"Cross my heart, baby." He sealed his promise with a passionate kiss.

Tags:

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[maidragoste]

Give me a chance

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader (Daughter of Rhaenyra) x Aegon II Targaryen

part 1, part 2 part 4

If anyone has an idea of what to call this series I would greatly appreciate it haha

By the way, if someone wants me to write something specific, my requets is open. or if you have any questions or thoughts about this series I invite you to tell me.

Thank you very much for the support, it makes me very happy to see the likes, the reblogs and the comments. I hope you like this part as well as the previous ones

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

"I'm going to kill him," Aemond said as soon as you two were alone in your room.

His head was already plotting different ways to get rid of his brother. He could poison him, hire mercenaries to kill him, or set fire to the king's chambers and lock him up to burn. No matter what, Aemond just wanted his brother dead from him.

"Aemond, don't be silly," you said approaching him "If Aegon turns up dead the first suspects would be us, they would kill us for being traitors and our children would be orphans" you hugged him around the waist.

Your husband knew you were right but he didn't want to be rational, he wanted you to be just as angry as he was but instead, you seemed so calm.

"You want to marry Aegon. Why? Is it some kind of payback for the bloody witch?"

Aemond knew he screwed up the instant you released him and he saw the fury in your eyes. If you had a sword in your hand he was sure you would have used it.

"Do you really think so poorly of me, Aemond? This isn't about you and your whore" you replied coldly "I don't want to marry Aegon" you confessed reassuring the prince "But I will, and I'm not asking for your opinion or your permission, dear husband. I will marry Aegon to restore peace to the realm, to end the bloodshed."

"You know it won't just be a political marriage"

If it were just a political marriage, Aemond might not be so upset. But he knew his brother and he knew he wouldn't miss the opportunity to have you in his bed of him. He wasn't blind, he could see how Aegon looked at you. Every time you were in the same room the king couldn't take his eyes off you. Many times during dinner he had to restrain himself from sticking his knife in the king's throat.

Damn, as soon as he got home Aemond should have taken you and the children to the Dragon Stone or anywhere away from Aegon. He had underestimated his brother.

"I know" you sighed. You weren't an idiot, knowing Aegon he would say that they would have to consummate the marriage so that no one would doubt it and could annul it. There was also the issue of the lack of an heir, at the moment Aegon had named Aemond as heir but everyone agreed that he should have his children "I will do my duty and give him children" you said with regret thinking how disappointed your mother would be of you right now.

"I'll be with you on your wedding night" your husband decided.

It would be torture for Aemond to see his brother's hands run over your body, he would have to restrain himself from killing him, but he preferred to be present to make sure Aegon was nice to you. He couldn't prevent the wedding, but he could prevent you from suffering in bed.

"What? Aemond, don't do that, don't torture yourself" you shook your head.

"I'll be there, I'll keep Aegon at bay, I'll stop him from hurting you"

Before you could say anything, Aemond kissed you. It wasn't the first time you two kissed since he'd come home, but it was always short and sweet. The kiss just now was pure passion. Aemond was kissing you as if he needed you as if he was afraid that you would slip out of his arms at any moment as if he couldn't live without you. As they kissed you began to guide the prince toward your bed.

•••••

You never expected Aegon to court you, you thought he would only announce their future nuptials and the thing would stop there but no. Every day the king took a walk in the gardens with you and the children, or sometimes, to Aemond's annoyance, he invited you to dinner in his chambers.

You're confused. Aegon confused you. And you hated it. You hated that he was so nice to you. The king had never tried to go overboard with you. He didn't raise his voice to you either when they had disagreements about planning the wedding, they only argued once because he wanted to have a big banquet and you refused because you thought it was disrespectful to the people who were starving, Aegon said no it was fair that his first wife had a feast and you didn't, you finally agreed only after he promised that all the leftover food would be given to the people of King's Landing.

Aegon always seemed delighted to hear how your day had gone, even when you talked about the children he seemed attentive. You also started seeing him in kindergarten. Today you got to see how he "talked" to Baelon while he was trying to braid Jaehaera. Seeing that got on your nerves because the man was happy listening to your baby trying to imitate his words he was nothing like the man who burned your mother alive. How could they be the same man?

Maybe it was the memory of your dead mother or maybe it was that you drank too much wine at dinner but ended up asking what you wanted to know so badly.

"What are your true intentions?"

"What are you talking about?" asked the king looking at you with pure curiosity.

"You're being too nice to me, you're going to give me a crown, you're giving me too much power. It doesn't make sense, you killed my mother to prevent me from taking your power away"

At the mention of Rhaenyra, the king's eyes turned to pure fury. You were sure that if your mother was still alive he would have killed her again.

"I never wanted power. I never wanted to be king" Aegon confessed. The only thing he ever wanted was to be loved, he add in his head.

Hearing those words was like a slap in the face. But the surprise did not last long, fury took over your body and from one moment to the next you were at the other end of the table with your knife on the king's throat but without exerting pressure.

"Are you telling me this was all for nothing? My mother died for nothing?" you protested with your hand trembling with fury.

"I killed your mother to avenge my son" he replied and closed his eyes as he remembered Jaehaerys's body. His boy loved him, it didn't matter that he wasn't a perfect father, his boy always seemed happy every time he saw him "Remember? Blood and Cheese? A son for a son?" he opened his eyes again to find that your eyes were painted with pure guilt and sadness.

You stay silent. Of course, you remember that night. You remember Helaena's screams. You remember the commotion in the castle as they searched for the two men. You remember how guilty you had felt about everything that happened. Do you remember not being able to sleep for days wondering if things would have been different if you had already given birth, would your mother have had her own grandchildren killed in revenge? And on the nights those thoughts haunted you, you weren't together with Aemond, he was hell-bent on finding the killers in an attempt to overshadow his own guilt, but you were together with Aegon. You accompanied him in his duel and watched over him, it was the only thing you could do.

Aegon knows you remember him because you were the only person who cared for him. Everyone seemed to have forgotten that he was also Jahaerys's father, everyone was too busy comforting Helaena while waiting for him to get on with the war. But you noticed that he was falling apart. You let him cry in your arms, you heard him talk about Jahaerys, and you never interrupted him or told him that he will stop crying and start acting like a man. No. You stayed by his side, no matter how tightly he hugged you or wet your pajamas with his tears until he fell asleep.

"I want peace just like you do" he declared softly and took your hand to start slowly lowering the knife little by little. It almost seemed like he was dealing with a wounded animal. "I want you to be happy. I want to be happy and you are the only person who can make me happy"

"Aegon, if it were up to me you'd already be dead," you said letting yourself be carried away by resentment and just to hurt him, but deep down you didn't want him dead. Despite everything, he was still family and you were tired of death. You knew that the few members of the dragon house must remain united or they will continue to cause more destruction to the kingdom. With a sigh, you placed the knife on the table.

"I think I could make you happy" he kept talking as if he hadn't heard you. He knew you and he knew you weren't serious. your heart was too good to wish death to your family. "I made you happy when Aemond wasn't around. Well, the closest can somebody get to be happy in the middle of a war"

Aegon could have named Alys Rivera. But he wasn't cruel, he didn't want to hurt you. He had seen the pain in your eyes when the news came that Aemond had impregnated that woman. He had never wanted to hurt his brother so much until that day. How dare Aemond break something as precious as your heart?

"Yes, you did," you admitted guiltily. Most days were dark, but when Aegon took time off from his duties and visited you, you felt a bit of joy. The war was put aside when the two of you reminisced about their childhood pranks or he told you some anecdote about his drunken "adventures." In those brief moments, you forgot all your losses and your cheating husband.

"Give me a chance" Aegon pleaded and you felt your breath catch at the way he looked at you. He looked at you with respect, with admiration, with love.

"Show me that this war was not for nothing, show me that you can be a worthy king," you noticed how he tensed and took his face in your hands "I'm not asking you to be perfect, I don't want you to be perfect, I just want you to take into account Your place is serious," you said softly as you caressed his face, you felt proud to see how he relaxed little by little "Many people suffered because of our family, we must reward them. We have to reunite the kingdom and earn the trust of the people."

You decided to ignore the voices of your brothers and your mother calling you a traitor. You were sure they would haunt you in your dreams. But it didn't matter. You will never forget them but if you wanted to have a future with Aemond and Aegon you would have to try to leave the ghosts of your family behind. You had to make the effort.

"What if I messed me up?"

"Then I'll be by your side" you promised to make him smile "And if I can I'll clean up your mess"

"Thank you"

Perhaps it was risky and could make you angry but Aegon wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your stomach. He sighed happily when you didn't push or insult him, instead, you started stroking his hair.

tag list: @hannaeditzs @multi-fandoms-stuff @zverea @m1tzifa1ry

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[1000sunnygo]

One Piece Academy chapter 40: Cora san part 2 (Quick translation)

source | part 1 | index

Sanji: Huh..? Aren't you...?

Luffy: Who?

Nami: Luffy! We've just seen this guy in a photo a while ago!

He's Corazon!!

Cora: Guh..!

*tap tap*

Nami: Ah, he's running!

*wham*

Nami: Ah, he fell ;;

Cora: Law, what's the meaning of this? How did this place get busted?!

Law: I'm in a state of shock myself... I swear I wasn't being tailed by anyone.

You guys, how did you...?

Robin: Underestimated our skill of gaining intel, haven't you?

Sanji: You did a good job hiding your tracks, but...

[flashback]

Luffy: Traffy... he's totally gone, huh.

Bart: Ah, Luffy senpai! It's been a while beh!

Luffy: Oh? Isn't that Romeo!

Do y'all know Traffy's place?

Bart: Naa I don't.. Gambia, do you?

Gambia: I dunno. Lemme ask my granma at home.

Gambia: Helloo, granma! Do you know where Trafalgar Law lives?.. Hmm, hmm... oh?

*pulls up a map*

Gambia: She says he lives here! Even gave us details on how to enter!

Bart: Granma really has all the wisdom beh~!

Luffy: COOL!! Thanks!!

Cora: THIS IS WAYY BEYOND THE REALM OF WISDOM THOUGH!!

Usopp: She also said, "if you're worried about the doorknob's prickly static shock, just touch the wall with your palm first."

Law: So she shared some real wisdom too? That damned Bartolomeo!

Zoro: A man believed to be missing is here, 'hiding' so nobody can find him - so it seems.

Corazon:...!

Since I got busted already, I guess there's no going back.

*cracks knuckles*

I'll make sure to make you feel at home.

Coby: Woah!

Law: DON'T START A RICEBALL PARTY!!

Luffy: What flavor is that one, Corao?

Cora: That's umeboshi! Law hates it.

Law: Cora san... ;

Cora: It's okay, Law..

Cora: After all, the only visitors we get in this home far from the town are Bepo and team. And that's just Law's pals.

Law: They're... not exactly pals...

Cora: That said, it's not like someone is expected to live here. The entrance is far down some secret underground passage. We buy our groceries from the neighboring Swallow city.

*clang*

Nami: Why all these secrecy?

Coby: Where are you going?

Cora: Follow me! I'll show you.

Luffy: Traffy's place seems fun!

Law: Make sure not to ravage it.

Cora: This is.. The Doflamingo countermeasure Headquarters.

Nami: The Doflamingo countermeasure Headquarters?

Luffy: That's a lot of Mingo!

Cora: You get the gist of a secret opposing faction, don't you?

In short, we call it "Vs Doff.." "Quarters.." well, something.

And not just Doflamingo, we collect information about the Family executives.. Even about the Onigashima middle school.

I investigate here everyday.. *tapping some keys*

And think of countermeasures.

<bzzzzz>

Coby: YOU JUST SHUT IT DOWN!

Cora: Crap, I blew it up again...

Nami: Cora chan, might you be a bit clumsy?

Cora: I have always been a clutz. It doesn't get better.

Vivi: We know that Doflamingo is a bad guy who needs to be stopped.. But do you, as his brother, have any specific reason for your action?

Cora: As his younger brother, my goal is...to prevent my older brother Doffy from falling into the dark world.

Brook: Dark..

Chopper:... World?

Cora: Do you know what they call Doffy in the town?

Coby : I'm pretty sure it's Joker, "The Town's Charisma"....

Cora: He's a regular hot topic among young admirers, my brother's got that talent in him. But..

He's being approached by the people from the dark world - meaning the Bad adults, as they observed those qualities.

To be honest, brother does have the predisposition and ideas for 'evil.' He's already a bad guy, you can't call him good even as a flattery.

Zoro: Will he remain as the Town's Charisma, or become a Charismatic Evil?

If it's the latter, that'd be way more serious that being just a bad, flawed person...

CONTINUES IN REBLOG ⬇️

[companionjones]

Go Ahead

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Reader

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon Video)

Summary: This is a universe where you were in The Boys since the beginning, and Becca somehow survived after you found her. You've been harboring feelings for Billy for god knows how long. Then, Becca drops a bomb that you were in no way expecting.

Warnings: I guess this would be a harem???

It didn't make sense to you.

"Go ahead. It's okay. I promise." That's what Becca had said. And then she left the room. Like it was nothing. Like she hadn't just thrown an unpinned grenade into your entire world view.

You moved to look at Billy. He did the same to you, and actually gave you his best attempt at a smile. That was when infuriation won out of the roller coaster of emotions you were feeling. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Butcher's smile disappeared. He looked offended.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Butcher?!" you repeated, louder.

"Fuck's wrong with me? You're the one oo's yellin'!" Butcher was, in fact, also yelling.

"Eight years. Eight years we spend looking for her, and what? You want to jerk off with someone else, first chance you get?!"

Butcher was obviously confused out of his mind. "Fuckin--Did you not 'ear what Becca was talkin' about? This is not about gettin' me fucking rocks off!"

"Then what is it about?!" you shouted.

Billy yelled back, equally as angry, "It's about you and me finally gettin' a chance!"

You had nothing to say in response to that. Just like you had nothing to say during or after Becca's speech about how you somehow deserved happiness, and how she wasn't afraid to share. Tears welled up in your eyes.

It must've been Billy's first instinct to comfort you because he was across the room in a moment, ready to take you in his arms.

You stopped him before he could, though. Held up a hand to halt him in his tracks.

Billy took a step away from you. He held his hands up in surrender.

"You weren't lying, huh?" you commented, tears still prevalent. Before Billy could ask what you'd meant, you answered, "She's amazing."

He huffed out a laugh then, and nodded.

"I've just...It's been so long that I've convinced myself I didn't deserve it," you tried to explain.

He didn't understand. "Deserve what, l--"

"Happiness, Butcher." You couldn't help the twinge of annoyance from showing in your voice.

But Billy just smiled.

For some reason, that resulted in your tears spilling over. Your head fell.

Billy took that step toward you again. He used his thumb and forefinger to tilt your face up toward his.

He had that soft look in his eyes. The look you swore Butcher saved only for the people he lo--

No, don't think about that now.

You closed your eyes because you had only experienced his touch that gentle when time in the field had god really bad, and he had almost lost you.

Billy kissed you then.

You gasped and pulled away. You opened your eyes to find Billy's face an inch from yours. That grin was gone. His eyes held every bit of emotion that he'd held back for all those years.

You spent a moment more to look into his eyes, then you glanced down to his lips.

They ticked up for a second when you licked your own lips. Yours then did the same as his. The small smiles were gone as soon as they were there, and then you were kissing Billy Butcher.

You just pecked his lips at first, but you couldn't stop leaning into him. Soon enough, one of your hands were threaded through the hair on the back of his head, and your other was gripping onto his coat for dear life.

Butcher wasn't any less lost in you. The man was so lost that he lost his footing, and ended up backing you against a wall rather harshly.

He immediately broke from you. "You alright, love?"

You just smiled up at him. Your eyes felt brighter than you could ever remember. "Yeah. I'm good." You brought him in to kiss you again.

*******

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[hangmanssunnies]

Double Tap

House We Share: Double Tap, Sfumato, Good Comes In 3

Summary: You were hesitant when your friends told you about their other friend who needed a roommate. Living with a man, let alone a Naval aviator, isn't your ideal living situation. However, you are desperate to get out of your current house. So, you will have to suck it up and make a deal with Jake "Hangman" Seresin. Now you just wish he would stop doing things that make you fall in love with him.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman Seresin x Fem! Civilian! Reader, minor Javy "Coyote" Machado x OC

Word count: 19k

AO3 LINK

Warnings: Abuse (Implied and mentioned), confrontation with Abuser, Child abuse (mentioned), Slow burn, Implied calorie counting, routines and compulsions, Jigsaw puzzles, taxes, Neurodivergent coded! Hangman, Fiscally responsible!Hangman, Protective!Hangman. Please let me know if I missed any for this part, I know it is a long one.

Authors Note: This got so completely out of hand. It started as one scene and then grew a mind of its own. Part two is written, just not edited, I'm planning on having that done later this week. Hangman Coyote BFF supremacy.  I apologize for writing the most hyper-specific!Jake you have probably ever read. 85% of his personality is just things I find attractive in men.

Thank you so much if you take a chance to read this work. I hope you enjoy it. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

You had been at your friend Marlee's house for almost an hour before she couldn't stop herself from confronting you. She had at least let you get settled and offered you a drink while pretending to be distracted by the lasagna she was making. She had spun towards you expectantly when it was in the oven, having reached her limit on waiting. 

"What happened?" Marlee asks. 

"It's nothing." You respond. 

"It is something. I don't want to reread your texts back to you, babes."

"Marls," you sigh, briefly closing your eyes, trying to fight the exhaustion you feel. 

"You can't live there anymore. We need to get you out."

"Yeah, let me just move and find a place to live. It's not that easy, Marlee." 

She sighs heavily. "I know, babes, but at least stay here with Javy and me. If he touches you like that again."

"It was just a one-time thing," you quickly cut her off. But, from the pitying look in her eyes, she knows it hasn't been just this one time. 

"If something happened."

"Nothing is going to happen." Marlee was too bright and too good of a friend. She knew something had already happened, and she knew things had been happening. Her frown and eyebrow raise say it all. 

"I can't just crash here," you say. 

"You are always, always welcome."

"You are," a voice pops up, and you both look over to the couch. You thought Marlee's husband, Javy, was thoroughly invested in the game he was playing on his Xbox, but it turns out he had an ear on your conversation. 

It wasn't something that bothered you. You loved Javy, he had been an excellent partner to Marlee, and you considered him a friend. He was fun and easygoing, something you hadn't expected from a Navy man. You also weren't bothered because everyone knew they were the type of couple that told each other absolutely everything. So, Javy would have found out one way or another.

"I know that. Thanks, you two." You tell them, trying to get them off your back. 

"Marlee is right. We can't have anything happening to you."

"Nothing is going to happen to me, Javy," you say, now trying to reassure them and stop this unnecessary worrying. 

"You know. I have a friend who has actually been looking for a roommate." Javy says. 

"You do?" you ask, surprised you hadn't heard about this sooner. 

"Yeah, I mean, he can be a lot. But he is a good guy and a great roommate."

"Who ?" Marlee cuts in. 

"Jake."

"Hangman?"

"Yeah, Hangman." The two of them stare at each other, and you can see that they are having one of those conversations of glances and small expressions you weren't entirely privy to understanding. 

Marlee then shrugs, nodding, and looks back at you, "It would be a nice safe place." 

"I mean, it's an option and would be a nicer place to stay than anything else you'll find. Plus, someone who is not a total stranger as a roommate." Javy tells you. He pulls off his headset and makes his way to the kitchen. He sets his hand on your shoulder and gives you a kind smile. 

"I'm not sure about living with a man."

"If you don't want to live with Jake or you aren't interested, we will find somewhere else. Or you stay here with us, but you can't stay there anymore." The seriousness behind Javy's smile isn't lost on you. So you start to slowly nod. 

"I guess I could at least chat with your friend if y'all think it's a decent option." 

"Yeah, for sure," Javy said with a grin. "I'll ask him about it, then maybe y'all can meet this weekend. We are still having a big bonfire on the beach. I'm sure he will be there."

"Oh, I wasn't planning on going to the bonfire." You start to say, which makes both Javy and Marlee frown.

"Why aren't you coming to the bonfire?"

You tried to think of a valid excuse beyond that being in open public spaces was terrifying to you right now. An excuse past the fact that you knew your bruises wouldn't be gone by Saturday. 

"I've just been stressed about finding a place to live, you know." You gave them both a weak smile, but neither of your friends seemed appeased. 

"Well, now you have a reason to come," Marlee says. 

"Yeah, exactly, and I'll talk to Jake." Javy presses a kiss to your forehead and then a lingering one to Marlee's lips. He returns to the couch, but not before looking at you seriously. "You know if you ever need anything, you call us?"

"Sir, yes sir," you tell him with a laugh, making Marlee giggle too. 

Even with Javy's reassurances, you are unsure about this whole idea. However, whoever this friend Jake is, you know he had to be better than your current living situation. After dinner, Marlee and Javy both reiterate their feelings on the whole issue before you leave their house. You did your best to wave them off and tell them you would see them in a few days.  

When Saturday rolls around, you head to the pin Marlee sent you for the bonfire. You are thankful it is a cooler day and will only be colder once the sun sets. It allows you to not look so out of place in your conservative clothes, ensuring all your bruises are covered. 

You arrive purposefully late and park far from the beach. By the time you make it to the group of people, you have sufficiently hyped yourself up to interact with the others. You decide to ease yourself into the party. You walk around the different coolers, opening them and investigating the available drink options. 

You are in the middle of shuffling through one when you hear a voice behind you.

"Anything specific I can help you find, sweetheart?" You turn around and are met with one of the most attractive men you have ever met. He is tall, with dirty blonde hair and a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose. 

"I'm just browsing," You tell the man with a shrug, proud of yourself for being able to put together a sentence. 

"I think I know what would be perfect for you, sweetheart.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah," He says, flashing you a grin. His smile makes something in your stomach swoop a tiny bit. 

"And, what would that be?" you say, raising an eyebrow. 

"Me, of course."

You can't help the shocked laugh that falls out of your throat. Which just makes his handsome smile widen. 

"I was thinking something a bit stronger, actually."

"I know I look like a tall glass of water but let me tell you, I won't disappoint you."  

"Well, looks certainly can be deceptive."

"That's true. Are you really as sweet as you look?" 

Before you can answer, you hear Javy's voice to your right. "Oh good, you two already met." 

You turn your head to see Javy jogging over. He stops next to you with a smile on his face. You process his words and feel your stomach drop. The incredibly handsome man you were trying to flirt with was Javy's friend. Javy's friend he thought you could live with. 

"There haven't been any formal introductions," you say. 

"Jake Seresin," he says. He sticks out his hand, waiting for you to shake it. You take his hand, give it a firm shake, and share your name. He repeated it softly, giving your hand an extra squeeze before letting go. 

"Javy said you are looking to move," Jake says casually. Your voice seems stuck in your throat. You examine Jake's handsome face again and know you can't do this.

"Yeah, she is. Soon, too." Javy says after you haven't said anything leaving an awkward pause. 

"I have lots of space."

"Oh well, you know." You say, trying to figure out what to say by saying nothing at all. Jake nods along with you, but his eyebrows pull close together while his eyes narrow. 

"Plus, Jake is really clean," Javy adds. 

"That is good to know. Maybe Jake and I can talk about it later?" You say, giving both of them a smile. You turn back to the coolers and grab the first drink you see. 

"Yeah, we can talk about it later. Javy owes me a spike ball game anyways," Jake says. He flashes you another smile while grabbing a High Noon out of the cooler, gesturing for Javy to do the same. You leave them to find Marlee and chat with some other people at the party. 

You are considering how to best say goodbye and leave the party while sitting next to the fire later. You stare into the flames hoping they might provide you answers. 

"You would actually be doing me a huge favor by moving in, "Jake says to you casually. You are startled by his sudden presence, and you look over at him, quirking an eyebrow in response.

"Oh really?" 

"Yeah. I haven't had a roommate for a while, and I would prefer someone who isn't in the military. I don't want to bring work and ranks home. You know?"

"Oh yeah, sure, that makes sense," you say, following his line of logic. 

"Also, rent these days is," Jake doesn't finish the sentence, instead just whistling quietly.

"Yeah, rent is expensive," you laugh. You find it much easier to talk to Jake if you don't have to look directly out at him. 

"You don't have to let me know right now, but I don't have any issues with it."

"We haven't talked about it much," you tell him, surprised he had decided so quickly.

"There is this saying that beggars can't be choosers."

"I would want a roommate contract. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, that would be fine by me, Sugar."

"Okay, cool, but we should think about it."

"Tonight is a party, and we are supposed to be having fun. Not doing business. So, why don't you text me, and we will hash out the details this week. Plus you can see the place, which you would probably want. Maybe you could move in next weekend if we can work it all out?"

Part of you thought you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, so you decided to text Jake throughout the week to hash out the details. And the next thing you know, Javy, Marlee, and Jake are helping you move your stuff. 

Living with Jake wasn't as hard as you worried it would be. In fact, it was much easier than you were anticipating. Jake led his life with strict regiment and routine. It was something that stretched beyond that he was in the military. 

Jake would wake up in the mornings and go on a run before coming home, making breakfast, showering, and going to work. Then he would come home, change and go to the gym, come home, shower again because he needed to, and then eat dinner. Every night if you were home while he was cooking, Jake would always offer you some. That leads you to find out he is a phenomenal chef. 

Then Jake would read in the large armchair in the living room and half-watch whatever you put on the TV to watch yourself. He only requested to use the TV when one of his sports teams was playing or on Wednesday nights, where he would spend an hour and a half playing Animal Crossing with his niece while they facetime. 

You had told Jake that the TV was his, and he didn't have to ask you to use it. Jake just laughed and shrugged before telling you he wasn't the biggest TV guy. Jake had been telling the truth when he said that. You realized that Jake was more interested in his books. If he wasn't reading a book, he sat silently with one of his sudoku puzzles and country music playing on vinyl. Then Jake would go to bed after whatever chores he deemed he should do. 

It was a strictly followed pattern, only differing on Fridays when he would sometimes go out to a bar with the guys or sometimes Saturdays. However, even on the weekends, he would follow the schedule closely. Regardless if he had gone to the bar, he would still wake up outrageously early in the morning, work out, do chores, and then go to the gym again. Sometimes Jake would venture out of the house to see his friends, but more often than not, he was reading or in the workshop in the garage with some project. 

Marlee had not prepared you for how amazingly hot Jake was. When you moved in, he had been very polite, if a bit curt. Never venturing to flirt with you again like when you first met. As the weeks living with Jake passed, though, he definitely warmed up to you. But still never pushed the roommate line between you. 

You worked hard to push your attraction for Jake to the side or shove it into a safe in the back of your mind. That was a challenging task to accomplish because, just like Javy said, Jake was very clean. It wasn't that he was a clean freak per se, but he was definitely an orderly and well-kept person. Everything in the house had a place it belonged. 

Jake always did his dishes and tidied up after himself in your common areas. He also never leaves any of his laundry waiting around. You had watched in a mix of awe and horror the first time he pulled out clothes from the dryer within five minutes of the machine going off. Then Jake started folding, halfway through the laundry, stoping to pull out an iron and ironing board. 

The sight was all so attractive that you had to excuse yourself upstairs. That was something that you often had to do. Anytime you felt heat build in you towards your roommate, you would quickly excuse yourself. You knew giving into your attraction for Jake in any shape or form would not lead anywhere good. You needed a place to live, and this place you had with Jake was way too good to risk anything. 

Given his career choice, it was not entirely surprising how regimented Jake is. However, what did surprise you was when he started to incorporate you into his routines in small ways. Jake would automatically set out an extra plate for you when cooking, and picks up snacks you like from the store. One day you come home and find a second shoe rack by the door just for you. On the days you had to be up for work, you would find that Jake had already put your morning drink together for you when he returned from the gym and was making his own breakfast. You like the steady rhythm and consistency that living with Hangman provides you. It's seamless and easy to fall into step with him. 

You had been living with Jake for a few months, and things were going really well, almost too well you sometimes felt like it was too good to be true. Your nightmares weren't as frequent. You get full nights sleep and feel comfortable here with Jake. The only times you don't feel content are the times that you think about how hot Jake is. Or when Jake does something that makes it hard not to try and smash your lips against his in a heated, passionate kiss. 

Then one day, you get home from work, and worry suddenly sweeps over you as you glance at your phone and realize what time it is. The house is completely dark and quiet. Jake should have been home several hours ago and on his way to the gym already. In fact, right about now was when he should have been getting home from the gym.  

You resist the urge to call Jake and check that he is okay. You know that action would be overstepping the roommate boundaries that exist clearly between you. You tell yourself it's silly to worry all because he wasn't following the schedule you made up for him in your head. It's not like Jake had ever written down his routine and given it to you. Maybe today was a special anniversary, or maybe he had after-work plans you didn't know about. 

Your worry is eased about twenty minutes later when you hear Jake's truck pull into the driveway, followed by the garage door rumbling open. You find yourself easing further into the couch, some of the tension you weren't wholly conscious of easing out of your body.  

Jake comes in, and you cut your eyes over to see him still in his flight suit. He doesn't say anything to you as he unlaces and kicks off his shoes. He passes you while walking to the stairs and manages a short but gruff hello. Then, without another word, he is gone. You stare after his back in shock. Something is definitely not right with Jake. 

He left his shoes sprawled on the ground by the door. It was not a sight you had ever seen in the house, not even the times Jake had stumbled home drunk and giggly. Jake always pulled off his boots, neatly tucking the laces in and then setting them up on his small shoe rack by the door. 

You get up from the couch and walk over to fix his shoes, tucking in the laces. You tell yourself it is so no one will trip over them, not for any other reason. Then you hear Jake's shower turn on, and the water runs much longer than the twenty-minute showers you are used to him taking. It all feels so odd and out of place. You decide to make some pasta for dinner, convinced Jake is planning on not eating at all with how far he is off his schedule. 

You are just finishing dinner when the water in his bathroom finally shuts off. Then fifteen more minutes later, Jake comes downstairs in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a thread-bare Annapolis shirt. He appears to be looking around downstairs, almost a bit dazed and lost. 

"I made dinner. How about you have some?" You call out to him from the kitchen. Jake follows your voice to the kitchen and looks at the food you have made and dishes up. Hesitantly he sits down at the table. 

"If you don't mind."

"Of course not. I know this may shock you since you normally cook, but I can do it too." 

"I've never thought that you couldn't cook." Jake quickly responds. 

"I know, Jake. I'm just teasing you. Now eat up." 

Jake follows orders and takes a bite of the pasta, letting out a small groan. "So good," he mumbles before taking another bite. 

"Do you want the macros?" You ask him conversationally after eating in silence for a few minutes. 

"Oh. No, thank you. I appreciate you making something and sharing. No need for you to put in extra work. I will be fine not tracking my macros for one meal," Jake says. 

"Okay," you say and give him the kindest smile you can think of. You don't want to push him on why he isn't okay. However, you can't stop yourself from sliding the piece of paper you wrote the macros on across the table to him anyways. 

Jake stares at the note card for a long moment and then looks up at you. It's not a look you have ever seen on your roommate's face before. You aren't entirely sure how to decipher the way his green sea-glass eyes are gleaming back at you. He folds the paper once before putting it in his pocket. 

Jake clears his throat, and the edges of his lips quirk up. "Thank you."

"Of course, anytime, Jake," you say back. He puts away his plate a few minutes later after finishing his food. Then packs up the leftovers into some tupperware. 

"I'm going to bed," Jake tells you. Jake doesn't even stop to grab the current book he is in the middle of from where it is placed next to his chair in the living room. 

The moment Jake disappears up the stairs, you are frowning again, considering his behavior. It bugged you, something clearly was off, but you weren't in the position to ask him what it was. As you start to settle down for the evening, you notice that Jake had put it in the laundry basket next to the washer that morning. Seeing that you knew he originally had every intention of starting it before going to the gym that night something that never happened.

You briefly considered that maybe it isn't normal how you have memorized his routine, but also maybe that was just part of living with Jake. You didn't even think before you were throwing his laundry in the washer for him. You stay up to put the clothes in the dryer. Then you find yourself folding items and hanging some of them, not confident that you could iron them correctly. About halfway through the chore, you stop realizing just what you are doing but finish it out, imagining the look on Jake's face when he sees his laundry done. You are in too deep to back out at this point. 

🏡🧩🏡

You knew it wasn't the best idea that morning when you had left to go pick up some of your remaining stuff and random mail from where you used to live. However, you didn't expect it to go as badly as it had. You were still shaking from the interaction you had when you got home. Every moment of the interaction repeats over and over in your head. You hazardously throw your keys into your little key bowl, not caring to notice Jake's there as well. 

You were still trying to take calming breaths and push away the tears streaming down your face. Standing at the entrance to the living room frozen, you aren't sure if you are actually at home or back there with him. 

You startle and jump, letting out a small shriek, hearing a sound in the kitchen. You turn slowly, shocked to see Jake staring at you dressed in his NWUs instead of his flight suit. You are equally surprised by the sight of him home in the middle of the day, in a uniform you rarely see him wear. 

The adrenaline of being scared forces your brain into letting go of the nerves and panic you had barely been keeping in check. Tears spring freely from your eyes as you take gasping breaths. J ake sets down the knife he is holding and takes long strides across the room to quickly reach your side. His hands hover near you but don't actually touch. 

"What's wrong?" Jake asks in a deep voice. 

You just shake your head at him, unable to respond, instead focusing on getting air into your lungs. 

"Can I touch you?" Jake asks then, and that does seem okay, so you jerkily nod your head yes. 

First, his hands settle lightly on your shoulders. Once it seems like you are okay and comfortable with that. Jake goes a step further and wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. You press your face into the material of his shirt. Your hands come up to bunch it slightly on his chest as you find purchase to clutch him closer. 

He makes gentle shushing noises but otherwise doesn't say anything while holding you. He is so warm, and his arms feel strong around you. Jake's hold on you doesn't waiver once while you cry. Only relaxing slightly when your sniffles and crying start to level out and you let go of his shirt. 

You take one more deep breath of him. Jake smells of a pleasant mix of his body wash, y'all's fabric softener, and his cologne. Letting the calming effect of the smell flood your system before letting go of your hold on him completely, only then does Jake let his arms slip away. 

Pulling away from the hug, you shyly look to see Jake's face. You find that he is already looking at you. For one of the first times since you met him, you don't like how Jake's face looks. There is a soft and sad demeanor that you see in his eyes. His eyebrows crease and his lips are pressed into a flat line. You feel embarrassment and shame flood you. The way that you just broke down and cried on your roommate, fully processing in your muddled tired head. 

"You're home," you eventually say, trying to break the ice and put a brave face back on. 

"Yeah, I'm not flying today. So, I had the time to come home for lunch."

"Sorry to interrupt." You say, looking down to examine your feet. 

"You didn't interrupt anything," Jake reassures you. He goes back to the kitchen, and you watch as he continues to cut ingredients for his salad.

"Do you want me to make you anything?" He asks.

"No, thank you. "You say not feeling even a little hungry. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jake asks next. 

"No, thank you," you say again and settle at the kitchen island to watch Jake cut the veggies and toss them in a big bowl. 

"Okay," he says. You like that Jake doesn't push you for things. He respects the boundaries you set and doesn't even try to toe up against them. 

"Am I allowed to know why you aren't flying today? I thought someone had broken in. Plus, I hardly recognize you out of a flight suit."

"You don't like these?" Jake asks, looking at the Navy camo print he is wearing as if this uniform suddenly offended him. 

"I didn't say that," you tell him, giving a small laugh. Obviously, Jake could make anything look good, even things that shouldn't. 

"Can't fly every day." He says with a shrug. "Also, I'm going through some maintenance stuff and checks with my sailors." 

You hum, but otherwise, don't comment watching Jake wash the knife and cutting board he had been using then. Then, after he drys them and puts them away, he turns back to you. 

"There isn't anything to be embarrassed about," he tries to venture lightly. 

"You don't come home and cry on me," you say, frowning. 

"You sure about that one?" He asks, shoving a mouthful of salad into his mouth. 

"Pretty sure that I would remember such an occasion." 

Jake just hums. One of those sounds that makes you feel like he doesn't actually agree. A few bites of his food later, he sets his bowl down. His green gaze is trialed on you, but then he glances at his watch, huffing in annoyance. 

There is a slight caving feeling inside you. You feel bad. How much of Jake's lunch have you taken up? You had never actually seen him come home for lunch before, so he must not get a long time. 

"I do all the time. Maybe just a bit less of the wet physical crying." Jake tells you, putting a container lid on his bowl.

"You could," you utter to him, a little embarrassed. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, wouldn't bother me if you ever needed to. You know. I'm here for you."

"Thank you, Darlin," Jake says. Then glances at his watch again. "I got ten minutes before I have to go. What would you like to do?"

"I'm fine," you tell him. "You should use that time to eat." 

"I'll munch while I'm doing some paperwork later."

That was a lie. You knew that Jake would never eat around paperwork. However, it was the kind of lie that settles warmly. It was one of those lies born with good intentions and made to be soothing. You could never be upset that he is even trying to comfort you at his own expense. 

"I don't want to talk about it, Jake." You reiterate again.  

"I know, and you don't have to. I won't ask again. However, if you ever decide that you do. I'm here for you too. Always." 

"Thank you, Jake. You're a really good roommate."

"I hope you can consider me a friend too?" 

"Of course, we are friends too," you reassure him. Jake's lips quirk upwards, his dimples flashing upon hearing that. 

"Now, I can't go back to work without seeing at least one smile." 

"That's a pretty tall order." 

"Well, they don't call me the best for nothing."

"Do they really call you the best or is that something you just tell people?" You ask him, mostly joking. Jake pretends to take offense, pressing his hand dramatically to his chest. 

"Ma'am, you wound me," Jake says, pouting. 

"I don't know. I think it is a pretty legitimate question." 

"I am the best." 

"And how do they determine that exactly? Who the best is." 

"Well, there are a lot of ways. Many different factors to consider." 

"Oh really?" 

"Yup. Also sorts of stuff, but they get us all together once a year, and we have a competition." 

"What kind of competition?"

"Only the elite members of the Navy participate. We all take turns sliding." 

"Sliding?" 

"Yup," Jake confirms, sounding one hundred percent serious. "We set up a huge slip and slide on the carrier runway. You only get three tries, and then we add them for scoring. I may have ripped off all the skin on my chest last year, but it was worth it to win." 

You can't help but let out a laugh. You picture Hangman competitively sliding down a yellow tarp that doesn't have enough water on it. It's such a silly concept you aren't sure where he came up with it. 

"Ahh there she is," Jake says with a broad smile. 

"I never would have thought that was a skill the Navy values." 

"Yes, Ma'am. It's actually the second part of the Naval academy mission," Jake tells you, still maintaining a serious tone despite his smile. Then Jake stands up straight to his full height in parade rest. 

"To develop Midshipmen morally, mentally and physically and to imbue them with the highest ideals of duty, honor and loyalty in order to graduate leaders who are dedicated to a career of naval service and have potential for future development in mind and character to assume the highest responsibilities of command, citizenship and government." Jake repeats dutifully and then adds. "In addition to putting these ideals to the test by hosting the world's most competitive slip and slide competition. Weirdly, people don't talk about that second part much." 

You only laugh harder, shaking your head at him. "Yeah, an absolute mystery. I can't believe that isn't common knowledge." 

Jake chuckles along with you. Then you two are interrupted by a timer going off from Jake's phone. He sighs and silents it. 

"I'm sorry. I've got to go, sugar. Are you going to be okay?" 

"Yeah. I promise I'm okay. Thank you, Jake." 

He bites his lip and nods at you going to put in his shoes and lace them back up. "Are you going to be home later?" 

"Yeah, I'll be home." 

"We could do something if you're feeling up for it. Or I can pick up takeout." 

"That's sweet, Jake, but you really don't have to." 

"I want to," he says with a shrug. Then checks his reflection in the mirror, making sure he is presentable to go back to work. After that, he turns back to you. 

"I'll think about it." You tell him before playfully shoving him out the door so he isn't late. You try not to melt when Jake gives you another hug. You catch his hand just before he is too out of reach.  

"Thank you, Jake. For making me smile."

"It's the prettiest thing I've seen all day," Jake says, squeezing your hand with his own. His words muddle your brain a little bit. You don't get to say anything else before he heads off to his truck, waving at you one more time and driving off. 

You also pretend you aren't screaming on the inside when Jake comes home from work that night with your favorite food and ice cream. The night feels easy and warm, sitting and eating with Jake. The events of that morning can't cross your mind while Jake tells you all about some of the weird contraband he found in the junior sailors' barracks that day. He is no less than spellbinding. 

🏡🧩🏡

Jake is sitting at the kitchen table when you get home from work. He is surrounded by neatly organized papers spread all along the table in various piles. Jake is wearing a button-down, tie, and slacks that make you do a triple-take on him.

"Welcome home," he says, glancing up from his laptop that is open in front of him. That's when you see he also has a pair of glasses on. 

"Thank you," you say, slowly making your way to the kitchen but still looking at him. 

"What are you working on there?" You ask. 

"Oh, I'm doing my taxes," Jake says while giving you one of his winning smiles. 

"Taxes?"

"Yes, Ma'am"

"I guess that makes sense," you say while looking around the kitchen for a snack. 

After a few minutes of silence, you decide to ask another question. "Do you have a date later?" 

You knew Jake dated. A man who looks like that has to date. However, you had yet to see him ever bring someone home, which felt odd considering everything about Jake, and the persona he liked to put on as Hangman.  

"No. What makes you ask that?" Jake asks you. 

"Oh. I don't know. You're dressed like you are going on a date."

"No, I'm not," he says, looking down at himself. 

You laugh at him and shrug. "If you say so."

"I would never wear this on a date," Jake mutters, clearly offended. 

"Well, then, why are you wearing it?"

"I'm doing taxes," he says again. 

"Yeah, we have covered that. What does that have to do with your clothes?"

"I'm dressed like an accountant," Jake tells you. You can't hold back your giggles at his phrasing and bring a hand up to your mouth to try and stifle them before giving up entirely. 

"What? What's so funny?" 

"Two things," you say, holding up two fingers, finally biting back your giggles. 

"One, the fact that you got dressed up to do your taxes. The second is that being an accountant is a euphemism for being a sex worker." Jake chuckles at your explanation but shrugs. 

"Well, Mrs. Celeste said I should always dress for the day. It helps you present your best self. If you dress the part, it helps you act that part." Jake says that like a well memorized and treasured quote. A saying he clearly remembered with much fondness.  

"And today is my tax day, so I am dressing like a tax professional. I will have you know. Since I started doing them myself, I have never had one problem with my taxes."

You couldn't help but chuckle more at his explanation and give him a fond smile. Sometimes the way Jake was so perfectly built and attuned for the military was endearing. Of course, a career Naval man would think a uniform was essential for each different activity. 

"So, are the glasses part of your tax uniform too?"  

He made a show of pushing the said glasses further up his nose. "Yes, Ma'am. They also are blue light blocking, which helps prevent migraines."

You nod along to his explanation. You finish putting together your snack and lean against the kitchen counter while munching on it. "Who is Mrs. Celeste? A teacher?"

Jake's lips flatten slightly before the expression relaxes just as quickly. "No, Mrs. Celeste is my Babula." 

"Your Grandmother?" You guess. 

"Yeah, sorry. My grandma, but she was strictly Mrs. Celeste growing up, only Babula occasionally." 

"I don't think I've met someone who calls their grandparent by their first name."

"Well, not really her first name. You have to be respectful and throw the Miss in there with it. She is a very particular lady."

"Is it a southern thing?"

"Yeah, maybe," he says with a small laugh. The edges of his lips quirk up, and you have to look away from Jake to distract yourself. It is easy to fall into the trap of how beautiful he is, with the sparkle he can get in his eyes. Or how even the smallest of his smiles makes you want to grin back. 

"So, how are the taxes?" 

"Oh, it's good. I'm almost finished up."

"Awesome, congrats Jake."

"Have you done yours?" He asks you. 

You shake your head and roll your eyes at the idea. "No, I definitely haven't."

"But you got your W2s in the mail last week."

"Jake, are you snooping through my mail?"

He raises both his hands up in defense. "No, I'm not! W2s just have a very particular look." 

"I'm just kidding. I know you wouldn't snoop through my mail. Yeah, I got them, but I've been busy. I guess I should make a Tax Masters appointment or something."

That crease in between Jake's eyebrows appears, the one that haunts you, that you pretend you don't obsess over. Followed by a small frown.

"Tax Master?" He asks, clearly appalled. You shrug back at him, not entirely seeing the issue. 

"I could do them for you," Jake says, then quickly adds on. "I mean, I can help you do them. If you have the time. I'm already dressed for it, and I won't charge you or anything."

"Oh no, Jake, that is so sweet, but I can't ask you to do that."

"No, really, I wouldn't mind. I think it would be fun. Plus, then you will have it done, and you won't have to worry about it." 

"Really, thank you so much, but it's fine." 

Jake's frown deepens at your answer, and he seems almost genuinely upset at your denial of his help. The warm feeling in your chest likes to flip over and grow a little bit more each time he is too sweet in moments like these. 

"You know Javy warned me that you were an asshole when I was going to move in. However, you have not once lived up to that. You could stand to be less nice to me, Jake." You tell him. You mean it to come off as almost flirty and a bit of a joke. However, it doesn't seem to land with him that way. 

The change that comes over Jake isn't something entirely tangible. It is almost like a shift in the air around him rather than anything physical. The way Jake looks at you just feels heavier and more charged. The confidence he always exudes seems to double with how he sits up just the smallest bit straighter but then leans back against his chair casually. 

"Go get your W2s." He tells you in a perfectly level tone, but it has a demanding edge. 

"Jake," you start to say and roll your eyes at him. 

"Nope," Jake says, popping the p. His voice takes on a lower candace, leaving no room for arguments. "I'm not giving you a choice. We are going to do your taxes." 

"No, we aren't doing my taxes." 

"Yes, I am. I can't be caught not living up to my reputation. So, I'm not going to be nice and accept that you don't want to. This is one of the few situations I won't take no for an answer." 

"It was just a joke." 

"No, it wasn't," Jake says, giving you a small shrug. You can't tell if he is actually hurt by how he is acting, but you suspect some part of him was twinged at his best friend's description. 

"It really was, Jake. Javy adores and trusts you. I'm sure he never would have suggested me moving in with you if he actually thought you were an asshole." 

"I know I'm an asshole. It's fine, sugar, don't worry. I'm not going to tattle on you telling me that to Coyote."

"You aren't an ass, though. That was my whole point."

Jake just shook his head at your answer. "I am one, and I don't want that to be a surprise when you inevitably witness it." 

You aren't sure how to respond to that, so you are relieved when Jake changes the topic. "Now, get your tax stuff, so it doesn't take us all night."

"Okay," you sigh, giving in to defeat. Jake gives you a mega-watt smile, and looks back at his computer screen. 

As you are walking up the stairs, you hear him yell across the house. "Dress like your best accountant self!"

"I won't be doing that," you yell back. 

"Please! It's important." Jake yells back.

When you are in your room getting all your stuff and paperwork pilled together. You find yourself opening your closet and pulling out an outfit that you could imagine wearing if you were an accountant.

You also spend several minutes too long wondering what would happen if you went back downstairs in the most provocative lingerie you own. After all, Jake didn't specify which type of accountant to dress up as. You wondered if it would be tempting to Jake. Could you provoke him into falling into lust with you? Tempt him enough that he took you on the dining room table on top of all the Tax paperwork? Jake has expressed attraction to women before, so there must be at least some part of him that is at least a little attracted to you. 

You smash down your thirsty thoughts and try to screw your head back on straight before it can drift too much off on track. When you get back downstairs, Jake is still at the table. You dump all your stuff on an empty spot there. 

Jake looks up from his computer and smiles at you, quirking an eyebrow. Then, Jake speaks to you teasingly, "And here I thought you might dress up as the other type of accountant you were telling me about." 

Your brain has no choice but to start short-circuiting, and you open and close your mouth twice. Jake starts shuffling through your paperwork, looking at what you have brought him. 

"I ordered us some pizza too," he says before you get out a proper response or say anything teasing back to him. 

"Yum. I'm excited," you tell him sliding into a seat and opening up your own laptop. 

He stops his shuffling and examination of the papers to level you with a serious look. "Thank you for indulging me, by the way." 

"Anything for you, Jake," you tell him and mean it. Unfortunately, the way you feel about your roommate is rapidly spiraling out of the tight control you tried to keep it in. 

"I like when we do fun things like this together," Jake says to you, grinning. 

"Me too," you tell him. Then add, "Only you would find taxes fun, though, Hangman."

"I am about to show you just how fun taxes can be and how you can get a great return," Jake says, taking your words in stride. 

Jake does your taxes almost entirely by himself, only asking occasional questions. He also then organizes all of your paperwork in an extra accordion binder he has. The taxes aren't fun, but spending time with Jake is.  

"Thank you," you say to Jake daring to press a soft, affectionate kiss to his cheek. You linger for a moment, the prickle of his end-of-day stubble ticking your lips, but you don't mind it.  When you pull back to gauge his reaction, Jake looks almost pained and upset. You worry for a moment that even just a cheek kiss could make him react this way. You briefly thank god you didn't actually try to seduce him earlier. 

"Always, anytime." He finally says. However, Jake is now glaring down at his keyboard and not looking at you. 

"I hope it wasn't too much trouble," you venture, confused by this mood shift. 

"Sugar?"

"Yes, Jake?" 

"I don't think you should pay so much rent." 

"What?"

"Listen," he runs a hand through his hair, pushing it all out of sorts. "I just don't think it's fair for you to pay so much."

"Of course, it's fair. I live here," you explain. 

"Yeah, but no. I get BAH, and I don't have any student loans from school. Plus, the Navy pays me plenty as an officer. I was paying for this place all alone before you moved in anyways."

"I'm not going to pay less rent because you saw my financials and feel bad." You tell Jake quietly, trying not to actively become upset. 

"Please don't be so stubborn," he pleads with you. 

You cross your arms over your chest, "Take your own advice."

"I'm the one being stubborn?" 

"Yes! You are. You are the most stubborn man I have ever met."

Jake's frown deepens, and that sad look in his eyes at your words starts to break through to you. Then he responds, "I'm sorry. I guess I'll try and work on that." 

Jake starts meticulously putting things away into different folders. He moves through each of his piles on the table and doesn't spare you a second glance. It leaves a crushing feeling in your chest. 

"I'm sorry for snapping at you." 

"There is no need to apologize. I'm the one who is sorry." Jake says, shrugging off your apology. 

"No, you don't need to apologize. I understand why you said what you did. I know you were trying to be sweet." You start to say but are cut off. 

"I wasn't trying to be sweet."

"Oh my god. Okay, fine, trying to be nice, then," you say, rolling your eyes. 

Jake sets down the folder he is currently holding, and it thumps a little bit on the table. The force and loud sound make you flinch. 

"I'm not sweet, nice, good, or kind. Okay? I'm not any of those things. I call things how I see them. I look at facts, figures, and numbers. Then I run calculations and act accordingly."

"And how is it mathematically possible that me paying less rent possibly works out for you, Jake? You will be losing money." As he shakes his head, he huffs at your words a little bit like they are funny. 

"You could do a lot and make a lot of gains if you paid less rent, and I don't mind picking up the extra amount. You might be one of the few people I haven't hated living with. I don't want you figuring out you need to live somewhere cheaper and moving out on me. So, I'm not being nice. I'm being a selfish asshole." Jake clenches his fists hard, and you see his knuckles start to turn paler. With a deep breath, he relaxes and shrugs. Loosening the tight coil of his muscles, Jake gives you a curt tight lipped smile with a nod. "I'm just a selfish asshole, okay?"

"Please stop. Don't say that."

"Why not? It's true," he says, rolling those beautiful eyes at you. 

"It's not true. Also, I would prefer if you don't use the word selfish around me, please." You say in a surprisingly steady voice. You don't really want to get triggered right now, and you could only hope that you wouldn't have to explain triggers to Jake. It takes him one moment to think and another to process before he says anything. 

"Oh fuck. I'm so sorry. I won't use it again." Jake promises, no questions asked. His words blow up a balloon in your diaphragm, making it feel like your breath is about to catch. Then he adds on, "If there are any other words…" He looks around and grabs a loose pen and one of his notebooks. Jake slides them across the table to you. "Write them down. Maybe? If you can." 

The warmth Jake inspires in your chest is unparalleled and drowns out anything you can think of aside from how endearing he can be and how fond you are of him. Jake doesn't take the lack of response from you well.  

"I'm sorry," he apologizes again. You spring from where you had been sitting, walking slowly and deliberately toward him. You make sure to give him plenty of time to protest and say something. 

Jake looks steadily back at you. However, he looks like he is preparing himself to be slapped or punished, holding perfectly still. Instead, though, you wrap Jake in a tight hug. He is stiff as a board beneath you. After a long moment, as you consider pulling away, Jake relaxes and wraps his arms around you. They are wrapped loosely at first but then tighten in small intervals until Jake is practically clinging to you. 

"You are so good," you whisper to him, a little dazed. You are almost stunned by how desperately Jake tries to pretend otherwise. 

"Don't say that," Jake whispers in a broken voice, hugging you a bit tighter. 

"Too good." You left the words for me unsaid, but you felt them. 

"I'm really not."

"It's okay if you don't see it. I see it for you. I'll make sure everyone else sees, too," you tell Jake curling your hands into a fist in his shirt. 

He doesn't say anything but keeps holding you tightly. You don't know how long the two of you stay embraced like that until Jake finally eases his grip on you, and you reluctantly pull away from him as well. 

He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. "Please stop paying so much in rent," he requests again. 

"That will not be happening, Hangman."

"So stubborn." He sighs. Jake kisses your forehead again. He leaves his lips lingering, and you start to count the breaths memorizing how warm his lips are. Three breaths later, he is pulling away. Jake grabs his laptop and a stack of folders heading upstairs without another word to you. 

You stare after him for a while, trying to parse out the mystery Jake presents, and coming up a bit short, just like you always did. He is one of the most outwardly confident men you have ever met. Yet, other times, Jake is the first person to make a self-deprecating comment about himself. You swallow down how much you desire more from him, wishing for more, knowing you can't and shouldn't have it.  

🏡🧩🏡

You and Jake were lounging on the couch. He was scrolling on his phone, avoiding going to the gym, half-heartedly trying to convince you to go with him. You were also scrolling your phone while deflecting Jake’s offers. 

That was when your doorbell rang, followed by heavy knocking. You and Jake both look up at each other. He raises his eyebrows, and you just shrug, having no idea who could be at the door. Jake looks back to his phone, clearly ready to ignore it, when the doorbell rings twice more, and the pounding on the door gets louder. Jake sighs and gets up, walking across the house towards the noise. 

“Hold your horses out there!” Jake yells towards the door before opening it. 

You wait for a moment, trying to hear who it is, curious about who would be so rude and what they needed. However, you don’t hear anything from where you are on the couch. So you stand and follow Jake into the entry hallway. 

“Sir, I am going to have to ask you to leave.” You hear Jake say. He is standing at his full height in the door frame. 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” You hear from on the other side of the door. 

Nervousness shoots through your whole body hearing that voice. Anxiety immediately pops up, and your stomach drops. You know that voice. You have heard it a thousand times before. Why was he here? How was he here? 

“I asked you to leave, Sir.”

“Just tell that little bitch that —”

Jake steps further forward onto the front porch. “Now, we don’t speak about ladies like that where I am from. And I’m going to ask that you act accordingly while at my home, Sir.” Jake cuts him off with that well mannered southern military niceness. 

“I don’t give a fuck where you are from.”

You flinch at his tone of voice, feeling bile rise up in your throat. You lean against the wall slapping your hand over your mouth, trying to prevent yourself from throwing up. 

“I asked you politely to leave. I won’t ask again. I can call you a taxi or an uber. But don’t you dare take one more step on my front porch.” Jake says in a deep tone. You are hit with the sudden, horrifying realization that he is going to hurt Jake, and that is something you just won’t let happen. 

You are trying to go through possibilities in your head. Anyway, this could shake out; it would be bad for Jake. Jake would either get hurt and get in trouble, or he would kick ass and gets in worse trouble. This would end badly; either way, Jake is going to get in trouble, and it would be your fault. You would be responsible because you caused this situation. Jake was going to pay the consequences all because he was trying to protect you. You were roommates, so Jake must think he has some obligation to protect you. 

You feel swamped in stress knowing how easily Jake can escalate a situation and provoke someone; sometimes, all it takes for him is one well-placed smile. That stress is finally what unfreezes you, and you stumble towards the front door. 

Jake’s large, broad form still mostly hides your view of the other side, but you cautiously approach and set your hand gently on the back of his shoulder. You feel how tense Jake’s muscles are under your hand and can see it in the line of the back of his neck. 

“Sugar, I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Jake says in a deep voice. He doesn’t budge an inch or look back toward you. “But I would like to suggest that you go back inside. I have this handled.” 

You want to cry. You want to cry for so many reasons: cry because you are in this situation, that you have to deal with this again, that you feel so small. However, you mostly want to cry because Jake “Hangman” Seresin is such a good man. It’s startling sometimes, not because it’s really unexpected, but rather that it is so completely and bluntly genuine. 

Having Jake here defending you, trying to protect you from the person who has probably scared you most in your life, it feels so silly to pretend like you don’t have feelings for him, to pretend that you aren’t more in love with him than you ought to be.

The realization doesn’t really feel shocking; it is closer to acceptance. A given truth that is part of your life now. An empowering truth that swells in your bones like a swift tide, filling up the spaces that have been empty for so long. 

You love Jake more than you are scared. The warmth of affection towards him is so hot it burns out the freezing ice in your veins and the numbness in your fingers. You love him, and you will be damned if you let Jake be hurt, touched, tainted, or affected by this man who has hurt you. It seems cliché that loving someone like this is enough for you to finally break through the barrier of fear you have lived your whole life in. However, now it just feels so simple. 

Your heart is beating hard. The adrenaline is pumping through you so strongly that you can hear it echoing in your ears. Your hand slides up Jake’s back to his bicep, and you give him a gentle push. Jake shifts with the movement. He slides to the right so you can finally fully see the front porch. However, he doesn’t move enough that you are fully exposed. Jake’s body is still partially concealing you from view. 

Then you hear your name, and your attention snaps away from its hyper-focus on Jake. You turn it forward and brace yourself. You drift your eyes to the ground, landing on the feet of your visitor, staying there for a minute before meeting his burning eyes. 

“Hello, Dad.” 

“Ah, so she is here,” your father says, throwing his hands up and glaring at Jake. You can smell the booze on him from the doorway. It makes your stomach turn. You resist the urge to wretch, squeezing your hand, which is still on Jake’s bicep. He flexes, and his bicep digs into his shirt as your nails also dig in. You don’t like those angry, hateful eyes on your Jake. Jake doesn’t budge an inch or react to your nails on his skin.

“What are you doing here, Dad?” You ask him. Your hold on Jake acting like an anchor point for you. 

“You don’t bother to answer my texts or anyone else’s calls and texts. Just because you moved out doesn’t mean you get to be a selfish bitch” your dad spits out. 

“I’ve been pretty busy,” you defend yourself in a small voice.  

“Oh, I bet you have been so busy. What are you doing these days?” He growls at you. “You know it doesn’t really count as moving out if you are spreading your legs to pay for it.” 

You flinch, your hand falling from Jake’s arm and balling into a tight fist at your side. You hate how easily he can make you feel small, even when you are angry. 

“Watch your mouth,” Jake hisses, rejoining the conversation. You glance at him, and Hangman is shaking with contained rage. You know this is not a good situation; anytime, someone could blow up. 

“You should go inside, Hangman,” you tell him gently. 

“Absolutely not,” Jake responds instantly. 

“So you are playing the part of a pathetic little whore wife for this pretty boy.” Your dad says, cutting in. 

You grit your teeth as he continues on. “Come on. I thought you gave up pussies after our talk when you were in high school.” 

With the reminder of just what he is referring to, You are overcome with anger, and you finally can’t take it anymore. You recognize his words for what they are, a direct bait at Jake and undercutting you. It makes you so angry you start shaking. Tears burst from your eyes, trying to let off some steam bubbling inside you. It boils up, so you can’t take it anymore, and you whisper, “Shut up.” 

“What?” Your dad asks, clearly shocked. You take a step forward fueled by your anger. 

“Shut the fuck up.” You pronounce each word slowly. Then continue on, “I’m tired of this. You don’t get to be mean to me and still expect a relationship with me. You don’t get to hit me, yell at me, and abuse me just to show up at my house on your bullshit. And you sure as fuck don’t get to say anything about Jake.” You suck in a rapid breath, the words fueling the fire in you. Your angerburning brighter with every word. 

“You made me think that kind, decent men didn’t exist, Dad, but Jake is good. He isn’t a pretty boy. He is smart, sweet, strong, and kind. I will not hear you say one more thing about him. Ever.” You punctuate the sentence with a jab of your index finger at him. He looks like he might be cowed, and before you can even finish a prayer that he will be done, the fire in his eyes lits again. 

“You could have at least found someone who stands up for you. A real man.” Your dad isn’t even looking at you when he says it. Instead, he is staring at Jake. 

“That’s a rather rude thing to say about an active duty Naval Officer,” you hiss. Your dad takes a step back, his eyebrows raising, reexamining Jake. He shifts his weight between his feet nervously. 

“You aren’t welcome at our home. So leave and crawl back into the bottle you drank before coming here. Don’t come back, Dad. I don’t want to see you.” 

You try to force your body to relax, but the adrenaline is still pumping hard in your veins. So, you start to walk backward back into the house. Jake still hasn’t taken his eyes off your dad, and he makes no move to come with you back into the house. 

“Jake?” You ask. 

“Just give me a minute, sweetheart. I need to have a talk with your old man here and make sure that he makes it home.”

“I don’t want him near you.” 

Your dad still looks blown away by this turn of events. Like he is scrambling to put words together. He keeps looking back and forth between you and Jake. 

Jake breathes out heavily through his nose. He turns his head enough to glance at you. Whatever he sees on your face must break his resolve. Jake clenches his jaw, and you watch the muscle flex once, then twice. After that, he rolls his shoulders, and it’s like Hangman is physically able to just shrug the tension of the situation off. 

“Get home safe, Sir. I suggest doing so soon. MAs are known to drive down our street.” Jake says it in a light, easygoing tone, border lining on cheery. Then, plastering that practiced, perfect smile on his face, Jake nods his head toward your dad and comes back into the house. 

Jake closes the door but doesn’t move, staring out the frosted window on the front door. His body is tense again, standing rigidly at his full height. You are still shaking from anger. You slump against Jake’s back, letting your body weight shift into his. One of his arms bends backward a bit awkwardly, sitting on your waist. His large palm is burning hot. You can feel it through the fabric of your clothes. Then Jake’s fingers flex to give you a small squeeze of reassurance. 

When Jake finally does move, it is just to turn away from the door and wrap you tightly in his arms. You enjoy the warmth of his strong embrace, feeling exhausted as the adrenaline starts to fade. Jake is still shaking, though. 

“He’s gone,” Jake says into the crown of your head. You let a little sigh escape you, feeling a bit more of the tension release. 

“Good,” you manage to tell him. 

“I wanted to defend you. I wanted to slam his face so hard into the porch that he wouldn’t ever be able to open his mouth again. Wanted to tell him how you are—”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you cut Jake off before he can continue. You don’t want to know what he thinks about you right now. You can’t handle whatever words could spill out of his mouth next. 

“I’ll make sure he never comes back here,” Jake says, his voice dropping, and you feel the rage contained in him, the subtle shake and heat coming from how tense he is. 

“I don’t want him near you. If something happened to you because of him….” you trail off. Your hands wander the expanse of Jake’s back in an almost soothing motion. However, you don’t know who it is soothing more, you or him. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

He takes a deep breath and then releases it in a heavy sigh. “What if you just give me his full name and social security number? You wouldn’t have to know about anything else.”

“Jake,” you whisper in a tone that is almost reminiscent of amusement. 

Jake sighs again. He draws back from your hug and cups your face. He swipes his thumb across your cheekbone, wiping away the tears that have been lingering. 

“You are the kindest, most compassionate person I have ever met,” Jake whispers. Considering how he is looking at you with a glimmer in his eyes, it’s clear the emotions of the situation are still running rampant. That look, paired with how he is holding you, makes you think Jake might be about to kiss you.  

“No, No. Stop.” You don’t know if you are trying to ask him not to kiss you or to stop talking. Either way, you feel like you might explode if this interaction isn’t over soon. 

“Yes,” Jake says. “Let me, please.” 

His thumb is still tracing along your cheek, and you can’t help yourself from leaning a tiny bit into his palm. An action that momentarily freezes his thumb before it picks up steadily again. Not hearing an explicit no from you again, Jake continues on. 

“That man has no say over you. Who you are is so stunning. You never deserved to be treated the way you were. I am so sorry you ever had to go through that. I am so sorry he showed up here. You don’t owe him a single second of your time or attention. You are valuable. You are amazing. He is trying to make you small because he sees how good you are.” 

A shudder racks through your body, hearing Jake’s words, and fresh tears start to fall unprompted from your eyes. As soon as they do, though, Jake pushes them away. “I am so proud of you for getting away from him. You are so strong and brave. It makes me awed. I’m so glad that you moved in here. You are…” Jake doesn’t finish the sentence, he seems to lose his train of thought. His mouth parts a little bit, and his eyes flash down to glance at your lips. 

Jake is going to kiss you, and it might possibly be the worst thing that could happen. If he kisses you right now because of your dad, you know you might break into a million different pieces. You don’t want Jake to kiss you for any reason but pure desire and affection. You don’t want him to kiss you in comfort, or pity, or convenience, or as an outlet. You don’t want him to kiss you just because emotions are running high from the incident that just happened. Most of all, you don’t want Jake to kiss you and not mean it. You don’t want him to kiss you without the intention of kissing you again. 

So, even though you are desperate to feel his lips, and memorize their shape, how they feel against yours. Desperate to discover what he tastes like, curl your fingers in his hair and take comfort in the form of his body. You know you can’t, it has the power to break you, and you already feel so broken and exhausted. 

You cover the hand Jake has on your face with your own and pull it away. However, you don’t immediately let go holding his large palm. Hangman takes your hint and steps backward, giving you a little space so that he is pressed against the door again. You decide to thread your fingers with his. Jake’s skin is still almost hot to the touch in your hand.

“Thank you, Jake,” You finally say, meeting his piercing green eyes again. You squeeze the hand you are holding. He gives you a tight nod and then tips his head upwards, so he is looking at the ceiling. Jake rests his head against the door as well and closes his eyes. 

You observe him for a moment, then you go to release the hand you are holding. Jake stops you, though, his hand tightening as yours loosens, and you try to pull away. You give a little tug, and he tightens his fingers even more. Jake’s head is still tipped, and you hear him sucking in a deep breath before blowing it out.

 “Please don’t let go,” he begs you. Jake’s eyes flash open again, and he is looking down his nose at you. “I just, I need you.”

You inhale sharply at his phrasing, and he sighs heavily. “I might do something terrible if you let go of me. If you don’t need me here, there won’t be anything to stop me.” 

“You’re not going to do anything terrible,” You say, retangling your fingers with his. Jake’s hand flexes in yours, and he takes another big breath. 

“I’ll make sure he loses our address and forgets it too. Make sure he doesn’t remember anything at all anymore. I’ll—”

“You’ll stay right here, Jake.”

He lifts his head so it isn’t tilted against the door anymore and stares down at you. He looks like he is holding on to every word you are saying to keep his sanity. His skin is flushed from anger, and his palm shakes slightly in yours. You were in awe he was able to hold back this reaction so long, remaining calm and collected throughout the entire encounter. 

“You will stay here with me, Jake. I need you.” 

“Yeah?” He asks shakily. 

“Yeah. Need your help, Jake.”

There is a low rumble in his chest, almost resembling the hum it was probably supposed to be. You step closer to Jake, once again closing the gap between you.

“Tell me what you need.” It comes out as a demand, and he seems to realize that when he adds on a small quick “Please.”

You look at him then, trying to read his face and those eyes that haunt your dreams. You examine the creases and lines his face makes with the severe angry look he has plastered on. You take the time to observe how his hair is hazardously falling out of place for how many times he has run his hand through it. You don’t really find any of the answers you are looking for. You just find Jake. And Jake is an oh-so-wondrous thing to find. 

You step closer to him and tug the hold he has on your hand again. His nose scrunches for a moment, and his frown tightens. His eyes lift upwards towards the ceiling again as his jaw clenches; he lets go of your hand. Jake’s hand falls heavily back until it hits the door making a smacking sound. You flinch at the sound but take another step forward, crowding Jake against the door. You lift your hand up to trace over his neck and then settle on his face, encouraging him to adjust his gaze back to you. He follows direction and leans into your hold, just like you leaned into his earlier. 

“Need you to stay with me,” you start slowly, encouraged as Jake nods his head in a small jerk. 

“I need you to leave the front door.” 

He considers your words for a moment, then shakes his head. “I don’t think I can do that. I’m sorry, sugar. I need to protect you.” 

“There is no one in the world I feel safer with than you, Jake.” He squeezes his eyes tightly closed at those words and pulls in a ragged breath. “So, you can’t leave me alone here.”

He nods again but still has his eyes closed. “Ain’t leaving. You need me.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Can I hold you?” Jake asks, then once again remembers his manners throwing out another small, please. 

“Yes, please,” you whisper. Jake doesn’t waste a moment before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you snuggly against him. The change of angle causes your hand to slip from his face, so you wrap it around his neck instead, your fingers drifting against the short hairs there. You go to wrap your other arm around his waist but instead awkwardly hit the front door. You hiss out a small breath at the momentary pain. 

Jake responds to the sound. He starts walking forward, making you walk backward. Walking while he is wrapped around you proves to be difficult, and you stumble a little. That seems to be all Jake needs; he wraps his arms under your ass and lifts you. 

You are terrified at the concept that Jake is going to try to carry you, and you open your mouth to protest. However, with only one small grunt that honestly sounded more like pure sex with how low and husky it is, Jake is carrying you down the hallway. You wrap your arm around his neck more securely, adding a second one for more leverage. 

Jake doesn’t stop to set you on the couch like you had expected. Instead, he continues up the stairs and right into his room. He sets you on his bed gently, and you unwrap your arms from his neck, letting him pull away. Jake goes back to the door of his room, closes it, and clicks the lock into place. You raise an eyebrow at his action.

"That’s rather presumptuous, Hangman.” 

“What?” He looks at you confused before he looks back at his door. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I wasn’t, I’m not.”

You shush him motioning towards yourself to try and get him to come closer again. “I know.” 

Jake comes back to your side. Now that you have been given the temporary clearance to freely touch him, you cannot stop yourself. Jake sits next to you on the bed, and you are scooting closer so that your thighs are flush side by side. Jake throws an arm across your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him. 

“Do you need to talk about it?” He asks you softly. You let a hollow dry laugh at his question, your laughter starts to devolve until it’s nearly hysteric giggling. Jake takes it in stride, holding you close and his thumb drawing small soothing back-and-forth shapes. After you are almost breathless and heaving, you finally start to recover. 

“I don’t want to talk about it, but I definitely need to. Not with you, though, Jake.”

“Why not me?”

“Because it’s the kind of fucked you talk to a therapist about.”

“I’m a great listener.”

“I know you are, but this isn’t your baggage to pack around and deal with, Jake.”

“Baggage? Sugar, that’s why we have the attic. If that isn’t enough space, or you fill it up. I’ll build a shed in the backyard.”

“What if that’s not enough room?”

“Then we have the garage. We’ll just park in the driveway.”

“You would give up your shop?” You ask, thinking of Jake’s favorite place in the house. 

“Yup,” Jake says without hesitating. “And after that, well, I’ve never been too fond of the extra guest room anyway.” 

“If that’s all not enough?”

“Then we’ll move. Or we go through it until we find some we can let go of.” Jake says, his free hand crossing his body to settle warmly on your knee. 

“It’s not physical baggage.”

“I know it’s not.” 

The feeling of affection you feel for him grows even more. Every time you think that there is no way possible you can fall further in love with him, Jake turns around and proves you wrong. He does some kind, funny, sweet, unexpected thing that makes you fall a little harder. 

You lift your head and look at him. Jake’s eyes meet your own, the severe stormy look in them a little less present. He is a bit more at ease, no longer shaking with anger. You let your eyes fall to his lips. You briefly think you love him so much it might be worth the risk to shift forward and kiss him. That maybe it wouldn’t lead to disaster like you’ve convinced yourself it would.

“What’s your favorite comfort movie?” Jake asks, breaking you from your trance. You shift a bit further away from him but not far before giving him an answer. 

The two of you watch your favorite comfort movie. You are cuddled into Jake’s side the whole time. The two of you had shifted back into the bed, cuddled close while watching the wall-mounted TV in Jake’s room. Exhaustion hits you like a wall as the adrenaline leaves your system, accompanied by the heat radiating off of Jake, the way everything smells like him, and his Tempurpedic bed; you relax more than you have in a long time. 

As you start to drift asleep against Jake’s chest, his heartbeat has a steady, soothing rhythm under your ear. You think out of all the times you have dreamed of falling asleep with Jake in his bed, none of those fantasies come even close to how good it actually feels. None of your dreams prepared you for how safe you would feel.

Your dreams also didn’t prepare you for sneaking back to your room at three in the morning when you woke up. Or pretending the next day that nothing had happened. After all, nothing had happened except some tense moments and Jake getting a glimpse of your past. You don’t say anything, and he doesn’t, either. You catch him watching you closer than he would typically for the next few days. 

More time starts to pass, and you are thankful that nothing was risked or changed between you and Jake or has affected you as roommates. There are only the slightest moments when both of you are much more casual about physical affection. Hugging Jake was now a commonplace part of your day, and you occasionally catch yourself daydreaming about what it felt like to fall asleep in his bed. 

🏡🧩🏡

You had started to pick up what the signs were when Jake wasn't okay, and something was bothering him pretty early into moving in. He had some pretty obvious tells. However, something had been really really bothering him for a while now. He didn't say anything to you, but he didn't have to; Jake's mannerisms gave him away. Jake wasn't following his routine and had started obsessively cleaning.

The other night, he knocked on your door, bursting open seconds after you told Jake he could come in. Then Hangman had all but begged you to let him deep clean your room. When you told Jake no, he gave you a look like you just insulted his Babula and stalked out of the room. Half an hour later, he was back in your doorway, asking the same question phrased slightly differently. You had finally given in after his second time double-checking. However, you insisted that you helped and supervised his cleaning. Once you agreed, Jake had done his happy dance. It was so cute it managed to cover the embarrassment that was crawling in you at letting someone else, let alone the man you loved your roommate, clean your room. 

The next day Hangman decided to reorganize all the bookshelves. First by color, then by genre, and even one time by the number of pages. His last reorganization was to put them all back to by author's last name. This was only after Jake talked to you for over an hour about the pros and cons of the Dewey decimal system in modern library science. 

After the books, you come home, and there is a puzzle on the table. A 2500-piece puzzle of the painting Meeting On The Turret Stairs. Jake works on it constantly. Only stopping to go to work and the gym. For three days, he doesn't read and doesn't do his sudoku. Jake doesn't sit with you in the living room at night. Instead, he just works on his puzzle, blowing past his typical bedtime every night. Then he stops going to the gym, and a day after that, he cancels his weekly call with his niece. That's when you know without a shadow of a doubt that whatever is bothering Jake must be significant. 

Finally, you can't bite your tongue or try to keep your nose out of his business anymore. The concern you feel is too much to handle. You had gotten up at 3 am for some water, and Jake was still puzzling at the table. 

"How's it going, Sport?"

"No, I'm Hangman," Jake answers in a quiet voice. 

"What?" you ask him, confused. 

"Not my callsign," Jake mumbles to you. You squint and try to piece together what he means in your still half-asleep brain. 

"You know someone named Sport?"

Jake just shrugs his shoulders, engrossed in his task. "There are worse callsigns to have." 

"Like Hangman?" You tease him. Jake finally looks up at you when you say that. Jake's eyes are bloodshot, and he has a hurt look. The small frown, paired with his glassy tired eyes, makes you feel like you just kicked a puppy. 

"Hangman is cool," Jake protests. 

"Hangman is very cool," you tell him placatingly, holding up your hands in surrender. 

 "You don't actually think it's cool," Jake whispers, his tired eyes falling back to his puzzle. Jake sounds so sad about it that your feet are moving before your brain, and you are sliding next to him on the bench for the long side of the table.

"Hangman is cool," You say and then nudge him affectionately with your shoulder. "You are cool." 

His lips quirk upwards from his frown before falling again. “Well, I am the Hangman.” 

"How is the puzzle going?"

"Fine, good. I like puzzling."

"You have done other puzzles?" You ask. 

"Yeah, I have a whole box full."

You hum at his words, tiredly wiping your eyes. "You should have been Puzzleman." 

Jake's eyes flash over to yours, slightly worried. "Do not ever say that around Coyote." 

"Hangman, It's three AM." He looks surprised to hear the time, and you watch him turn his wrist to confirm the time on his watch.

"Go to bed," You add softly. 

"I like when you call me Jake." 

"Then why do you listen better when I call you Hangman?" 

"Hmm, maybe because that's the name I hear most often. Maybe because it's easy to be Hangman."

"Is it hard to be Jake?" You ask him gently. 

Jake is quiet for a long moment after your question. Before answering, he sets the piece he had been holding back in its color pile. All he gives you is a whispered, "Sometimes."

You aren't sure what to say, so instead, you put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it. "It's time for bed, Jake. It'll be here in the morning." 

Jake nods his head, listening to you. You get the water you initially came downstairs for and wait until Jake starts up the stairs. Following behind him, you make sure he goes into his room. You aren't really eased about the situation when he shuts the door. However, you are glad he will at least get some sleep. 

Before you go back to bed, you shoot your group chat with Marlee and Javy a text. 

Have you ever seen Jake do a puzzle?

You wake up to texts from Javy and Marlee, both asking all kinds of questions like: what you meant? What kind of puzzle? With how many pieces? And, how long has Jake been working on it?  

From the questions alone, you gather that your worries are correct and Jake puzzling is not a good thing. Getting out of bed, you make yourself presentable enough to venture out of your room and downstairs. 

In the mid-morning light, you are once again greeted with the sight of Jake hunched over his puzzle. A steaming cup of tea sitting next to him, and Chris LeDoux playing from the record player. 

"Good morning," you say. 

"Morning, sugar," Jake says back. You are glad to get a response, but the worry is still gnawing at you. You start putting together your own morning drink, and your eyes keep drifting back to him. 

"Jake, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." He says, not looking away from the puzzle piece he is currently studying. 

You stop leaning against the counter, taking your drink with you and walk over to his side. Jake is completing this puzzle concerningly fast; you notice examining his progress this morning alone. He keeps staring at the piece in his hand, unblinking even as you approach. You watch him for a few more moments before deciding it's time for you to intervene. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" You pose cautiously. His eyebrows crease, and he still doesn't look away from the puzzle. 

"About the puzzle?" he asks you in a hopeful tone. 

"No, Jake. About what's bothering you." 

He finally does spare you a glance, and you don't like how dull his green sea glass eyes are. The normally vibrant, mischievous glint isn't present, and they are slightly bloodshot and red, even after you forced him to get some sleep. 

"It's fine. I'm fine. Just work stuff. I've got to finish this puzzle." He tells you, then looks away. 

You frown at Jake's answer. Puzzles are supposed to be fun, and you don't think this is actually a healthy, cathartic activity for Jake anymore. You almost preferred his book reorganization or when he went to every door and oiled the hinges, the top and bottom hinges twice but the middle ones only once. When you asked why not the middle one twice? Jake had told you something about middle children that had made you laugh. 

While Jake normally released stress through organization, order, and control. The frenzy and energy he has with this puzzle is different. This wasn't like the month after you moved in, and he decided to rearrange his shop in the garage. Jake had reorganized his tools, labeling where they all went. After that, he made you a booklet of where everything in the garage was located, just in case you wanted to use something. Jake was very genuine about it, too. As if he really believed you were about to start borrowing his screwdrivers, saws, wrenches, lathe, and various other tools. 

Your frown deepens, and you pull out your phone, shooting a text to your group chat with Marlee and Javy. Answering some of their questions from the morning and shooting back a request of your own. 

After texting with them for a few minutes, you set your phone down on the table, taking the spot next to Jake. He gives you another short look but doesn't say anything. You take a moment to look at the piece he has been staring at for over five minutes at this point. 

Taking it gently from his grasp, you examine it yourself. A moment later, you place the puzzle piece into the correct spot. Jake ghosts over the piece you just placed and taps it twice as your hand retreats. 

"You got to tap it into place," he tells you softly. Then Jake is back digging through his piles, looking for the next piece. 

You help Jake with his puzzle for a little bit, pleasantly surprised at the textured surface of the pieces, enjoying how tactile they are. You know this must be a very expensive and nice puzzle. Any time you place a piece, you make sure to tap it twice for Jake. Each time you do, Jake gives a small nod of approval. The one time you forget, his fingers quickly find the piece again and tap it twice with a small annoyed huff. You don't try and coax Jake into a conversation again, simply enjoying just being with him. 

Y'all's work is broken a while later by the doorbell ringing. The sound startles Jake, and he jumps in his seat and his head snapping towards the door. You place a hand on his shoulder again to try and ease the sudden tension.

 "It's okay," you tell him quietly, giving his shoulder a slight squeeze. "I'll go get it."

"No, I can get it," Jake says, starting to stand up. You know he doesn't like you to answer the front door anymore. He hasn't ever since your dad showed up unannounced. Jake has never explicitly told you he doesn't want you to answer the door. However, you have picked up on it because he has not let you answer the door once since the incident. One time Jake had even sprinted across the house to beat you to the door. 

"Don't worry. I know who it is," you say. Jake gives you a concerned look but then nods a little bit. His eyes trail after you as you make your way to the entry hall. 

You open the door to Javy's tall form and are immediately wrapped in a tight warm hug. You lean into his embrace, enjoying the comfort for a moment. 

"Is it really bad?" Javy asks you in a low voice when you pull away from his hug. 

You shrug but then follow it up with a nod. "Yeah. I mean, I don't know. Maybe not? But it's the worst I have ever seen." 

Javy gives you another reassuring squeeze before he saunters into the house towards the living area. Jake's eyes are trained on the hallway, clearly waiting for you to come back. However, when he sees Javy, he blanches, dropping his eyes back to the puzzle. Jake's shoulders hunching tight almost up to his ears. 

"Hey, Hangman," Javy hums. 

"Machado," Jake says gruffly, fiddling with a piece. 

Javy shocks you by not immediately going over to Jake. Instead, he meanders over to your TV. He shocks you even more by opening a drawer in the entertainment center and pulling out an Xbox. Javy starts hooking up the console, and you shift your eyes to Jake again. 

He is still sitting there digging through his puzzle pieces. You aren't sure what to do. If you should leave the two of them alone, join Javy in the living room, or go back to the table with Jake. So instead, you end up in a weird middle ground lingering in the hallway. Finally, when Javy has everything set up, and the Xbox booted on, he goes over to Jake. Coyote sets his hands down so hard on Jake's shoulders that it jostles the blond a bit. 

"Wow, buddy, this is a nice puzzle," Javy says casually. 

Jake just hums in response, placing a puzzle piece and tapping it twice. Only answering once he picks up another piece. "It's a watercolor by Frederic William Burton. He painted it in — "

"It's time for a break, Hangman," Coyote says, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

"Naw, you see this section," Jake gestures generally towards the entire surface area of the puzzle. "It's almost done."

"Nope, it's break time," Javy repeats more firmly. 

Jake's shoulders hang, and it looks like it takes him physical effort to stand up from the table. Jake's joints and back audibly pop from the action, and he raises his hands above his head to fully stretch. 

You try to root yourself in concern, not thinking of the flash of skin you saw where Jake's shirt rode up a bit. Jake blinks a few times, and when he finishes stretching, he turns to fully look at Javy. 

"How long are you staying?" Jake asks, daring to glance back down at the puzzle. Javy snaps his fingers in front of Jake's face twice and then points aggressively toward the couch. 

"As long as I want to," Javy responds with an upbeat tone and a wide grin. He gives a light shove, and Jake shuffles over to the couch. Jake looks at you as he walks, and you can tell that he feels betrayed. 

"I'll leave you to it," you say, ready to retreat into your room. 

Jake looks away from you then, and you don't like the flash of embarrassment on his face as he does. It's been odd seeing Jake so completely out of his element and uncomfortable in his skin the last few days. Embarrassed wasn't a look that fits well on Jake. It made you want to rush in and remedy the situation. 

"You don't gotta go," Jake calls to you.

"Javy came over to hang out with you, Jake." You say plainly. You want to give them space to talk and hang out. 

"Yeah, bro, feeling the love," Javy says jokingly. It earns him a sharp jab to his side from Jake. The action just makes Javy laugh, though. "Don't worry so much, Hang. Marlee is coming by later with dinner, and then all four of us will kick back, but right now, it's me, you, and the Master Chief." 

"You'll hang out with us later, though? Or are you doing something tonight?" Jake asks, ignoring Javy.  

"There is nothing I would rather do tonight than hang out with you," you tell him. Jake's eyes snap up from where they had drifted to the left, lowered just enough not to meet yours. The burning bright color in them is startling after the dull, distant look he has supported the last few days. You can't stop the words you say next, needing to try and back peddle. It takes a long beat before you say, "and Marls and Javy. I don't know if you've ever had Marlee's green chile enchiladas, but they are to die for." 

"They are so good," Jake agrees enthusiastically and looks down at the controller he is holding for the first time. Javy then shoots you a smile with a thumbs up, and you are reassured enough that you head upstairs and into your room. 

You hear Javy's voice behind you, "You know Marlee only cooks for two reasons." 

You close your door before hearing Jake's answer and resist the urge to eavesdrop. A few hours later, you hear loud yelling and laughter from the living room. Then get a text from Marlee to send the boys to help her get the food out of her car. 

The rest of the night is mostly light, and Jake almost passes for his normal self. He jokes with Coyote, eats two helpings of Marlee's enchiladas, and with you... well, with you, he is hot and cold. One moment Jake will be flirting with you in a heavy bravado, then the next, he falls into a quiet, contemplative silence. Javy has to herd Jake away from his puzzle three separate times. It gets easier to draw Jake back in every time; the last time only took a question directed toward Jake to draw him back to you guys. 

It is a good night, and everyone seems happy at the end. Jake hugs Javy and Marlee goodbye and leaves you to walk your friends out. You let out a small sigh of relief, seeing Jake walk up the stairs and not back to the dining room table. 

You talk with the couple for a few more minutes on the front porch, then hug them goodbye. You are thankful for them, to have such good friends who are willing to be a support system, for you, for Jake, and for their other friends too. It warms your heart, and it feels a lot like family. 

Jake's puzzling is less frenzied after that night, and he starts to reign back in. He has full conversations with you again and goes to the gym after work as well. He follows Javy's rules that had been texted to you both and doesn't puzzle by alone again.

 For the next week or so, Javy and Marlee end up in your living room in the evenings. Keeping Jake from becoming too obsessed, you also notice that he won't let Javy or Marlee touch his puzzle pieces. But when Jake does work on the puzzle, and you are home, he always invites you to join him. 

Jake makes an effort to converse with you while working too. The conversations you two get into range from academic to childhood memories, favorites — books, movies, foods, bands, animals— funny stories, and anything else that would pop in your heads. Of course, each puzzle piece must still be double tapped into place, and you are meticulous about following that rule. 

Puzzling in the evenings with Jake surprisingly becomes one of your favorite times of the day. Sometimes you would even just sit there at the table with Jake, scrolling on your phone while he works on the puzzle. 

Hangman's presence is a comforting steady grounding force, so much so that you can only hope you provide half of that for him. You knew you were roommates, and Jake may not carry the same romantic feelings you do. However, you couldn't deny the plain platonic affection that poured from him, so much you sometimes think M aybe . Maybe he does feel more. 

When you enter the kitchen, you see the puzzle is finished. You go to examine it and realize two pieces are missing. You feel a bit of worry creeping up in you, not sure how Jake will react to having lost pieces and being unable to complete the puzzle. 

You start to look around, checking every chair and bench to make sure a piece hasn't fallen. You shine a light under the couch in case they slipped under there. Then you are flipping up the edge of the rug in the living room and trying to think of any other feasible place the pieces could have disappeared. 

"What are you doing?" you hear, and you snap your head to see Jake standing on the other side of the couch, looking at you bemused. 

"Sorry, I was just looking for your missing pieces," you say, straightening up and fixing the rug. 

Jake quirks an eyebrow then he follows your gaze to the table where his puzzle is. Jake's mouth drops open, lips barely parted, and a soft "Oh." falls out like he didn't even make the sound intentionally. 

"No luck so far, though. I'm sorry. I'm sure they will turn up. Only so many places they could have gone," You say, making sure to project an upbeat, positive tone and attitude. 

Jake looks between you and the puzzle twice before suddenly you are graced with the rarest of Jake Seresin's smiles. It is one you have only seen a handful of times. It's different than his smirk and his confident panty dropping smile. It's not the smile that he gets when he laughs, and his eyes crinkle around the edges or the mouth wide open smile. It's not his practiced perfect smile he uses for pictures. 

No, this smile is closed-mouthed, those pearly whites hidden from view. It's a quirk of his lips like Jake is trying to hold it back from showing it on his face but he isn't entirely successful. His bottom lip is tucked a little bit between his teeth as if he is physically trying to bite back the expression, none of which prevents Jake's dimples from popping up. 

It's a smile that always leaves you a little stunned, and this is no exception. Not that there are many things about Jake that don't leave you feeling that way. This smile, paired with the soft look in his eyes, makes you want to melt into the floor. 

"I have the pieces," Jake tells you then. It takes you a few moments to process his words. 

"Oh, you do?"

"Yeah, I do," he says and pulls out a ziplock baggie from his pocket with the two pieces in it. 

"That's great!"

"They weren't lost. I was saving them, actually."

"Saving them for what?"

"For you. Well, for us."

You don't think you are able to hide your surprise at his words. "For us?"

"Yeah. You know, so we can finish this puzzle together. We worked on it together. So, we should finish it together. Few things match the feeling of putting the final piece of a puzzle into place."

God, you want to kiss him. You want to grab his face and smash your lips against his. You want to taste him and thread your fingers in his short dirty blonde hair. The little fantasy starting to form in your brain is cut off by Jake walking over to the table. 

You follow him there, and Jake sets the last two pieces on the table, letting you pick which one you want. Once you make your selection, Jake grabs the other one. 

"Okay, on three," he tells you with a grin. At his countdown, you both place the pieces of the puzzle. Automatically you double tap your piece into place. Jake was right; it is an extremely satisfying feeling finishing the puzzle and seeing it whole for the first time. 

Your gaze drifts over the puzzle, and you look up to see Jake staring at you instead of the finished piece. After a moment, you realize what is wrong. Your hand reaches across and gently nudges Jake's to the side. Then you tap Jake's piece twice, realizing that for the very first time, he seemed to have missed that compulsion of his. However, you knew it would bother Jake when he realized he had forgotten, so you make sure to complete the ritual. 

Jake's gaze snaps down to the piece you had tapped for him. Then his knuckles purposely brush against the back of your hand, sending shivers up your arm.

"Thank you," spills from both of your mouths at the same time, which makes you laugh.  

"Jinx," Jakes says in a rushed voice, making you laugh harder. That odd tension in the air between you two disappears. 

You walk into the kitchen and grab a white claw from the fridge, bringing it back for Jake, handing it to him. Jake is a strict enforcer of the jinx soda pop rule. The two of you look at the puzzle for a few more minutes. Taking in the stunning painting, the yearning and sadness of it never fails to impact you. 

While the two of you had been working on the puzzle, Jake had told you many different facts about The Meeting On The Turret Stairs. How it was a watercolor painting by Frederic William Burton, the poem it was based on, the era it was painted in, and its place in Irish art. 

When you asked Jake more, he surprised you by knowing hyper-specific details and answers off the top of his head. Intrigued, you learned how he had double majored at Annapolis in Aerospace Engineering and History. However, because Jake was golden boy Midshipman Seresin, he had gotten away with his final history thesis being art focused. Hangman more than understood how to be charming when he needed to be. 

"What now?" You ask him. 

"What do you mean?" Jake asks, confused. 

"What do we do with the puzzle?" you ask. It sounds much better than what you wanted to say. What now between the two of you? What were you going to do to keep spending time together? 

"We take it apart." Jake shrugs. 

"No," you gasp, horrified thinking of all the time you had put into the puzzle just to undo it and throw it back in the box.

"What else would we do?" Jake asks you. You think for a moment before smiling at your own idea. 

"Let's Mod Podge it, and then we can hang it up. We have some pretty bare walls in the house, and it is a stunning piece of art," you suggest. 

Jake doesn't even take a moment to think it over before saying, "I love that idea." 

So, you two are driving to the craft store to get cardboard and Mod Podge. A week later, the puzzle has been cemented and hung on the wall in between your and Jake's rooms upstairs. After the puzzle is finished, Jake is back into his sudoku and his various other reading books. He still lingers near you in the evenings, waiting longer than he used to before retreating to his room for bed. 

One night almost a month after you two had finished the puzzle, Jake brings the subject up again. You two are lounging on the couch, he had just gotten home from watching the Army-Navy game at a bar with some of his friends, and he is definitely a little bit tipsy. 

"I am going to build us a puzzle table," is the first thing he had loudly declared, walking in the door. 

You were instantly worried about why Jake might want to start a new puzzle. "Is everything okay?"

Jake doesn't seem to hear you, though, as he continues on. "A really nice one that opens and closes with velvet or something so we don't have to worry about losing pieces, and maybe I can even make it an adjustable height?" He is talking to himself more than to you. 

You watch as he grabs a notepad and pencil out of a drawer. Then he slumps on the couch. Before you know what's happening or can stop it, Jake has his head on your lap and is sketching design ideas, potential measurements, and materials. 

"How are you doing?" you ask him again, staring down at his face, unable to contain your enamored smile. Jake just nods his head and keeps sketching while mumbling. 

You run a hand through his soft hair tentatively. It is a bit longer than usual right now, almost out of regulation. He will need to get a haircut this week, but the strands are so soft, and you can't help but enjoy that there is a bit more there to run your fingers through. His eyes instantly close, and he hums contently at your touch. 

"Hangman?" you ask him almost teasingly, halting your movements.

"Yes, sugar?" 

"Are you okay?" 

He blinks his eyes open and looks at you. Their gleaming sea glass green color is a little glazed over and so very soft. His mirth is open and obvious to you. "I'm so great. Navy won." 

"That's great. Go Navy." A wide grin splits his face wide, and Jake's eyes actually crinkle closed, hiding their unique color from you again. 

"That's right, Honey. Ooh ahh!" Jake responds automatically, making you both laugh, and maybe you had been drinking a little bit of wine before he came home; perhaps you were warm from that, or maybe Jake was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Your eyes lock with his, and your hands pull out of his hair. You let one drift trace his face helping him relax the furrow in his eyebrows. 

"Why do you want to start a new puzzle?" You ask. 

"No new puzzle. A new table." He corrects you. Jake taps his pencil on the notepad pointedly. 

"For a new puzzle?"

"You liked doing a puzzle with me, right? Well, after the first bit, you liked it?"

"I loved it." The words slip out of your mouth before you can amend the sentiment to come off less forward.

"Me too,"Jake says and trails off for a moment. Then he continues asking, "So you would be open to doing another one with me? Just for fun this time, not my mental health." Jake doesn't say the last sentence with any bit of shame or embarrassment, which you admire. However, the vulnerability is obvious and glaring. 

"Yeah," you confirm, once again having to run your fingers over his brow to relax his face. 

"Perfect. I'm building the table, then. You can pick the puzzle this time." 

You can't help but let your hands slip back into Jake's hair, and he returns to sketching on his notepad. It was a moment of quiet peace you knew you didn't ever want to let go of. 

"Javy said that you don't like to do puzzles with other people, and that's what helps you pull out of the pit." 

Jake's eyes don't leave his notepad, and he turns the page. You watch Jake start to scrawl the pros of a dovetail joint versus a dowel joint before he starts to draw it out as well. You almost don't think he will say anything back by the time he finally does. 

"You aren't other people," Jake tells you, as he starts drawing in shading, which is completely unnecessary for anything beyond aesthetic. He bends the lines from a basic blueprint to a detailed drawing of a realistic table joint. It was distracting watching the engineer in him flow into the unexpected artist. 

The idea that you ever had thought his talent for art and engineering were such radically different things was a bit funny. Now that you see him dance between the lines back and forth so elegantly that you understand it wasn't two competing sides of Jake. It was just him. It was how he worked and operated. 

It was how he was Hangman and also Jake. It was how he could fill out sudoku then go to bed at 9 pm and how he could shoot pool until closing with the squad. It was how he was a cowboy and a pilot. It was how you wanted to cry a little bit, knowing he enjoyed you there, knowing you weren't like other people. 

And you are struck with the thought that you don't ever want Jake to do a puzzle with anyone but you. You never want to see him sitting alone at three am with bloodshot eyes putting pieces into place again. And you don't even want to consider him explaining animatedly why he believes a piece goes in one color pile and not the one it was originally sorted to anyone but you. 

You want to be selfish with Jake. You want to have him, and you want to keep him close, never letting go. Surely you could convince Jake to be yours. It was a selfish act that could be forgiven if you promised to cherish him. After all, there were worse things in the world than loving someone, so entirely the fact they might not love you to the same degree didn't hurt so much.  

Jake flips to the next page in the notepad and starts to sketch out the living room. As he works, the living room table starts to look significantly different than your current one. 

"Oh. It's for the living room?" You ask him.

At first, he just hums in response, but when he finishes rounding out a line, Jake lifts his pencil from the paper. It pauses there, poised and frozen, as he asks, "Do you want the dining table instead?" 

"No." As you continue, the pencil falls back to the page, "It just wasn't what I was originally thinking."

"I could do a dining room table too. They could even be made of the same wood." Jake says. His green eyes broke from the page to glance up at your face for the first time in a while. He searches your face trying to gauge your reaction to his suggestion. 

"Two puzzle tables?"

"Think of all the possibilities. We could do two puzzles at once." Jake gasps. You kind of hate the excited timbre that Jake's voice picks up at the idea, but you actually mostly love it. 

"Just one puzzle at a time, please." You say, giving his hair a teasing gentle tug, ignoring the sharp inhale of his breath that immediately follows. You refuse to give away the unexpected thrill sent straight through your body that settles at your core. You have to consciously make sure your words do not fall out rushed, "I think it would be nice to have out here, comfier." 

"I thought the exact same thing."

"Oh really?" You ask, amused. 

"Yes, Ma'am. I've got two words for you, puzzle naps." 

You huff a small laugh at him and bite your lower lip. He flips back to his first page of notes, where he had a small list of wood. He adds cherry to his list after oak. 

"Juniper is really pretty," you suggest. He immediately starts to write down your suggestion with a little heart next to it. When Jake starts to shade in the heart, you feel like the one in your chest might actually burst out. Something very similar to butterflies was fluttering around in you, but it is much less nervous and rather born of pure fondness. 

"Sounds beautiful. I'm sure it's perfect," Jake tells you. 

"Let's pick one together, though. It should be our choice."  

"No," Jake says, drawing an elegant oval around juniper. Then he goes back and strikes a straight line through the other options. "No one else has ever remembered to double tap."

Jake spends a few more minutes detailing the design before his eyes start to get sleepy, and his pencil marks become light and halting. It doesn't take much from you to encourage him to go to bed, just a whispered suggestion. 

He stumbles up from the couch and places a kiss on your forehead. Jake puts his notebook on the counter in the kitchen. After that, Jake circles back to press a second lingering kiss to your forehead. You watch him go all the way around the house to double check the locks, the front door, the garage, and the back door. Finally, after sending you two finger guns, Jake drags himself up the stairs, humming Anchors Aweigh. 

"Until we meet once more, here's wishing you a happy voyage home!" You loudly hear him sing. You listen to Jake as he hums his fight song while randomly peppering in other lyrics. When you finally hear him close his door, your mind makes a decision on the war it's been having. 

You are going to do whatever it takes for Jake Seresin to agree to be yours. Potential consequences be damned; Jake is worth the risk.

[navybrat817]

😘

Kris, look at him. I need him! 🫠

Welcome to the Meal

Pairing: William Miller x Female Reader

Summary: Will's hungry, but not for food.

Word Count: Over 600

Warnings: Established relationship, implied explicit sexual content, reference to oral sex (f. receiving), being in love and slight feels (it's me, okay?), William Miller (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Short and sweet for Sinday and inspired by a prompt @whisperlullaby provided. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Will stared unashamedly at you from across the table as you tried to look over the menu. Again. Each time you glanced at him over the flickering candlelight, you found his blue eyes staring right back at you. The retired captain had an impressive talent of not giving away a single emotion unless he wanted to. But tonight, he didn't bother to try and hide his lust.

Just because he promised to take you out for dinner, he didn't say anything about playing nice or fair.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you begged. It wasn't that you didn't like having his undivided attention because you loved it, but how did he expect you to get through the meal when he looked about two seconds away from tossing the table aside to get to you? “Please.”

Amusement flickered in Will’s eyes, his voice low and teasing when he asked, “Like what?”

You huffed because he knew exactly how he was looking at you. He wanted to devour you and he wanted to hear you say it. “Like I’m dinner.”

“Maybe I’m hungry,” Will said.

“Well, I'm not dinner,” you said, closing the menu.

“Yes, you are. And dessert,” he smirked, licking his lips as he leaned back in his chair. “Breakfast, too, and you know how hungry I get first thing in the morning.”

You suppressed a shiver as you recalled how his eyes dragged along your body earlier that day. He had you sprawled out naked in his bed, his large hands gripping your thighs and pushing them apart so he could stare at your exposed, glistening pussy. He licked his lips like he was eager to taste you and you clenched around nothing before he dipped his head. The moan you let out when his tongue moved between your wet lips sounded a lot like his name.

The man took pride in everything he did and that included eating pussy.

“How are you always hungry?” You asked. You understood his need whenever the two of you reunited after being apart, but he was insatiable any day of the week that ended in “y”.

“Because you're delicious, sweetheart,” he answered, your heart skipping a beat as scratched along his short beard. Facial hair was never a “make or break” deal with you until him. You longed to feel him bury his head between your legs again and soothe your ache. “I can't get enough.”

You took a moment to admire the love of your life when you realized he wasn't just talking about your body. Some days he held you a little too close because he knew what it was like to lose, but you loved him all the more for it. He let you in because he trusted you when it didn't come easy. Having his heart was an honor.

Who wouldn't want William Miller to love them?

“I can't get enough of you either,” you said, reaching across the table to take his hand. He gripped it like a lifeline and it wasn't just lust you saw when you gazed into his eyes this time.

You saw paradise. Home. Love.

Everything he wanted and didn't think he deserved until you.

“Are we ready to order?” The server asked, temporarily breaking the spell.

You nodded after a moment, your heart full as you squeezed Will’s hand. “I think so, but we’re going to take our meal to-go. If that's okay.”

“Of course,” the server said.

The small smile on Will’s face told you that was his plan all along and you didn't mind.

Besides, who were you to keep your starving man from eating?

I love him, okay? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[sh0ek0]

midnight love (part 4)

please find the other parts via my masterlist in the pinned post on my blog!

pairing: megumi x f!reader summary: after surprising you on your 21st birthday, you ditch your friends to be with Megumi and finally talk. How will things be between the two of you, after everything that happened? genre: angst, but there's smut in the end heh content warning: !aged up characters!, college au, abusive/toxic relationship and dynamics, dark content, euphoria inspired dialogue (the part in the car is heavily inspired but I just love that conversation), mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking/cigarettes, explicit smut I guess lol word count: 6.7k

a/n: honestly, even if one person likes and comments on my writing it motivates me to keep going so thank you @denkisupremacist ily. also thanks to everyone else that commented/liked/reblogged the other parts. if u want to be tagged just dm me <3

recommended songs: midnight love - girl in red / I THINK - Tyler, The Creator / Altitude - Montell Fish / Exscape - Montell Fish

NSFW CONTENT AHEAD ! MDNI ! 18+

It wasn't that you liked lying to your friends. But as soon as you stepped back into the bar and slipped the necklace Megumi had just given you into your pocket, you knew you had to come up with an excuse to get out of here as quickly as possible.

"There you are!"

Yuji and Yuta were standing in front of you. They had both put on their jackets and looked at you with relief as you walked through the door.

"We came to check on you, you've been gone for almost half an hour," Yuji says, and you see Yuta's eyes follow your hand as you stuff the necklace into your pocket, but he says nothing.

"Uh—sorry, guys I could’ve texted one of you," you mumble, "my mum, she, uh, just had a lot to talk about." 

Yuji’s is about to return to the others and take you with him to complete his mission as you link arms with him, when suddenly you both hear Yuta clear his throat. You spin around, feeling caught as you see the tall boy still standing there, frozen in place, his expression telling you that he didn't buy your story. 

You hesitate for a moment, but then you give Yuta a questioning look.

"Really? Did something happen? I mean, it's late, why didn't she call you earlier if she wanted to talk?", Yuta asks and you let go of Yuji's arm, who oblivious to the suggestiveness in Yuta's voice. You watch him make his way back to your table before turning back to Yuta.

"No, everything's fine," you start as Yuta avoids your gaze and looks outside through the large windows in the entrance, as if he expected someone to be waiting there, "I guess my mum just misses me.

"Are you waiting for someone or shall we go back?" you finally ask him with a smile on your lips as he turns back to you.

"The texts that popped up on your phone earlier weren't from your mum, y/n." 

You flinch, barely noticeable, as you hear what Yuta says to you. You had already turned away from him to join the others, deciding that if he wanted to investigate any further, he could do so on his own.

"Yuta, please…", you groan and look at him, rolling your eyes.

Now you really wanted to avoid him, so instead of going back to the others, you made your way through the people towards the bar in the back.

"No, stop avoiding me, I know he texted you." You heard his voice from right behind you. Great, he followed you.

"What do you want to hear now?", you ask him, turning to look him straight in the eye. He holds your gaze, towering over you as he takes off his jacket. You climb onto one of the stools by the bar and cross your arms like a stubborn child.

"I want to hear that you're not only getting older but also more mature, y/n," Yuta sighs, plopping down on the bar stool right next to you.

"How long have we known each other now? Three years? Four years? You were already Maki's best friend when I met you two."

"What’s you point, Yuta? Is it because of Maki? I don't think he'll do anything to her, I can assure you..."

"No, y/n, he won't do anything to her, but he will do something to you, and you don't want to realize that."

"Yuta, he said he’s sorry, he was drunk and he saw me with Choso, that was kind of my fault, I-", you protest, "I triggered that reaction." 

You could see the spark of desperation flash across Yuta's face. It wasn't your fault, you didn't provoke him, you didn't trigger his reaction - but you weren't ready to admit that. 

"He would never hurt me on purpose, I think he just needs... help," you added, "I can help him."

Yuta pressed his lips together and closed his eyes for a tiny moment. His sigh was clearly audible, he rubbed his temples as if his head hurt. 

"None of us can protect you," he admitted, before taking a deep breath, "and I can't bear to hold my girlfriend in my arms over and over again while she cries because her best friend wakes up next to her from a panic attack five nights in a row, because she was assaulted and almost strangled by a guy she thinks loves her."

His words force you to look up at him and your eyes widen as you realize what he had just said. Maki has always been so strong for you, you don't remember when you last saw her crying, and now you realize how selfish you have been. You were only able to put up with everything Megumi had done to you because your friends were there to catch you.

"And I'm afraid of the day I'll find out that this guy has gone too far and I'll never be able to see my friend again." Yuta takes one of the two beers he ordered for both of you and takes a sip.

You swallow, amazed at how quickly this conversation had turned.

"Yuta, you know Megumi, you know what his problems are, I can't leave him, I love him," you blurt out, "I can't leave him."

"I haven't really known him for a while now, and I think he needs therapy before he's allowed to ever come near you again."

"You're not his personal punching bag, fuck, y/n, I've seen that before with my mum and my - my dad." 

Your heart starts beating faster as you listen to what he reveals. He's never told you that before.

"He won't change," he mumbles, taking another sip, his gaze averted from you.

"That," his eyes were on your neck now, making you want to turn away from him, "you can still cover up. Next will be the black eye and the broken nose."

"If you’re lucky," he adds quietly. You feel the tears welling up in your eyes.

It was just like the conversation with Yuji, you just couldn't argue, you had no arguments. You could justify everything to yourself, but to Yuta? To Yuji? To Maki? Of course they were right, but you didn't want to hear it. You didn't believe that you could be alone and you didn't believe that you could ever love another person the way you loved Megumi. What could you say to your friends, your friends who had been worried from the beginning? 

Megumi had once belonged to this group, until he changed more and more and your relationship grew more difficult. 

So you wondered what you should tell your friends in the future. Right in this moment, you couldn't even look Yuta in the eye, especially him, he had been the first to notice…

"Let me go, Megumi, you’re hurting me," you begged, pressed up against the wall. It was dark, of course it was, you went out tonight with all of your friends and you were far away from the dance floors upstairs. It was so dark that you could barely make out his face, only occasionally did a few lights flash across his features.

He had one hand on your hip, his fingers digging into your bare skin, while the other had a firm grip on your jaw, forcing you to look at him. 

"What was that, huh?", he spat at you, he was nearly fuming, his body pressed up against yours in an attempt to keep you in place, "Were you flirting with him? I saw the looks you gave him."

"'Gumi he’s in one of my seminars, it was noth—ow!" You grimace in pain as his hand leaves your hip and grabs your upper arm instead, pulling you along with him. He walks a few steps until you are at the foot of the stairs leading up. Megumi rears up in front of you, towering over you as he forces you a few more steps backwards into the cramped space between the stairs and the wall.

"No, stop, what are you doing, I don’t-", you protest, but you have no chance to escape, "Stop this nonsense, Megumi, nothing happened, let me..."

"You’re dressed like a fucking hooker for what, hmm? For him?", he growled, the tone of his voice silencing you in an instant, "Wanna show me what you wanted to do to him?" He pushed you against the wall. You groaned as you lost your balance for a second and hit the back of your head.

"Come on, don’t be so shy now." 

You stared up at your boyfriend, trapped between him and the wall behind you. His hands were groping all over your body, and you felt his right hand move up to grab your chin again, but this time it didn't stay there. Instead, his fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing lightly, but none of that seemed familiar. He had done this before, in another setting, he knew you liked it, but this time was different. Even though it was dark, you could see the lust in his eyes, but there was none in yours. And you could feel how upset he was, he was angry and rough and you knew that he didn't care what you wanted at the moment.

"Stop, I—I don’t want this, let me go," you sobbed and tried to wriggle out of his grip, "Megumi, please, let me go…"

"What the fuck, man, leave her alone."

You looked up to see Yuta rushing down the stairs, grabbing Megumi by the shoulders and pulling him back without waiting for any more context. He read the situation right, so he didn't need you to confirm anything for him. 

He heard you the first time.

"Fuck, man, what was that supposed to be? What's wrong with you?", he shouted at him, pushing him back, further down the hall. Yuta actually was a bit taller than Megumi and was able to keep him in check, even if he fought back. You had probably never seen Yuta this upset and Megumi seemed to think the same, but you had no intention of staying to see what they would make of it. 

As soon as Megumi was busy with Yuta, you gave him a thankful look and hurried up the stairs, right into Maki’s arms. She quickly realised what was going on and sent Yuji to separate the two. 

After that, you left with her and Nobara and that was the first of many nights you spent in Maki's bed, instead of your own.

"Hey, guys, there you are," Maki interrupts the two of you as she walks over to her boyfriend and puts her arm around his waist.

Noticing that the others have also gathered around you, obviously ready to leave, you look in the other direction and wipe the tears from the corners of your eyes. 

"We've decided to move on," Yuji says excitedly, "we'll either go to another bar or back to our apartment, what do you think?"

"That's actually a good idea," Yuta chimes in, standing up and grabbing his jacket before taking Maki's hand, "let's go."

You stand up as well and take your chance while you can.

"Guys, I would love to come with you, but I have to retake an exam on Monday and I think I really need to catch up on some sleep," you explain, and you're not even lying, "Shoko offered to drive me home, she's already waiting for me outside, so I think I should go."

Well, that was a lie.

Your friends protest, but you ignored them - you had already put on your jacket and were about to give each of them a big hug.

"Thank you for the surprise," you say and wave goodbye, "Honestly guys, it was so much fun with you, thank you."

You smile and did your best to avoid their glances, trying not to look at Yuta, Choso or Maki, who had probably already seen through you as well.

"See you," you mumble and turn around, taking your phone out of your purse to text Megumi before you had even left the bar.

You grin to yourself, eyes glued to you phone as you push open the door, your other hand fishing the necklace out of the pocket of your jeans. You put your phone back in your purse before you put your necklace back on when you hear another notification.

Megumi had sent you his location, so you followed the map on your phone screen without looking back. You were already quite far away and out of sight, but if you had turned around, you would have seen how your friends left the bar. And then you would have seen how Gojo and Getou were standing outside with them, with Shoko in their middle, waiting for the others. 

Shoko, who, as you told them earlier, was supposed to drive you home.

You are just about to get into his car as a call from Maki appears on your screen. Instead of answering it, you reject the call, and you lean over to Megumi to kiss him. Then you turn off your phone.

***

I know I don’t want to Be the one that you run to When you got nowhere else to go When you need some love

You watched as Megumi tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, while you were silently listening to the music playing in the car. He had one hand on your thigh and while he was driving the two of you sat in comfortable silence. The setting was much too familiar for you to be nervous around him.

"Why did you not even hesitate for a second when I texted you earlier?"

I know I’m the last one You try to call but I always give in To give  you  it  all

"What?", you ask after a moment. You understood what he said, but still.

"I know I hurt you, I mean-" He looked over to you, before turning back to the street.

"I mean, not only physically but also.. emotionally." 

Yue. 

The images of him being all over her came back flooding to your brain and you just shook your head as if you were trying to get those thoughts out of your mind. 

"Can we not talk about that?", you ask and try to smile at him, while you feel his hand squeezing your thigh.

I can’t be your midnight love When your silver is my gold

Megumi stays quiet after that. You sink deeper into the seat and think about the last time you sat here, think about what you said to him.

"Sometimes I feel like you've ruined me forever," you say after a while, staring out of the windshield in front of you. You let your head fall back against the headrest, before turning to look at him.

In this light, I swear I’m blind In this light, I swear you’re mine

"Well, it does sound romantic when you say it like that," Megumi replies after thinking about your words for a little while.

"I still love you, you know that?" He looks at you.

"Yeah, you said that, after kissing me goodbye earlier," you mumble, not taking your eyes off him,

"But why, though? Why do you love me, when you do all this?"

You can see that he thinks about your question for a moment, and when he speaks, it’s probably not quite what you wanted to hear. Rather, you wanted to hear why he hurt you so much, again and again, when he said he loved you.

"'Cause you’re smart. And cruel, in a way, but not really. You’re so beautiful I don’t ever get tired of looking at you."

"Not really smart?", you ask.

"Not really cruel," Megumi says.

You nod and you don’t say anything after that, at least not for little while. Instead, you watch the lights go by as the car pulls off the highway and slows down after another few minutes, eventually coming to a stop and you realize you're in the parking lot in front of Megumis dorm building. 

You look over at him, once again.

"You know, it’s funny that you say that," you observe, "it’s funny because that’s something I didn’t really realize until after you broke up with me."

"That you’re the cruel one, and not me."

You swallow and feel his hand leaving your thigh to turn off the car.

"Did you know that I loved you?", you ask, without taking your eyes off of him, "Of course you know that, I’ve told you often enough."

You told him right in this car, a few weeks ago. The exact same thing.

"I’ll probably sound like a broken record but I’m not talking about obsessing over you, or fighting or fucking," you declare and your hands start trembling, "I’m talking about love."

"Did you feel loved by me?" The question rolls of your tongue so easily but the minute you asked, you were afraid of the answer.

"I don’t know." He says, almost to quiet for you to hear him. That’s what you were afraid of.

"I don’t know if I feel anything, really," he adds,

"I just know that I love you. And I haven’t stopped, ever, since the moment I first saw you."

I hope that the right time one day arrives So I’ll be willing to let this die Able to look you right in the eyes Say I’m not your consolation prize

"You wanna stay the night?", he then asks, one hand still on the steering wheel, as if he needs to hold on to something. 

"I’d love to," you reply immediately.

***

You hadn't even made it into his dorm room as you were already pressed up against him, the two of you tightly entwined, one of his hands roaming your body while the other one was trying to unlock the door. As soon as you stepped into the building together you'd closed the distance between you, pressed your lips so gently to his, and he didn't stop kissing or touching you since, the way up to the second floor taking longer than expected.

You couldn't even begin to describe how good it was to feel him, to taste him, to smell him, to be pressed up against his body, to feel his breath on your skin as you heard the small pants he released into your mouth.

When Megumi finally manages to open the door, you almost lose your balance and you interrupt the kiss to catch yourself from stumbling. Thanks to his quick reflexes, he was able to catch you, his arms already wrapped around your body anyway. You noticed how content he looked, his eyes never once leaving yours, instead he seemed to get lost in them as he maneuvered you backwards into his apartment.

"What abou—mhmm," you try to ask, but you're quickly interrupted by Megumi pressing his lips to yours again as he closes the door behind you. 

"What about Noritoshi?", you try again as he pulls away.

"Hmm?", he asks, and you can almost see the question marks popping up above his head. 

Not a second later it dawns on him. 

"Ohh, no, he's still out of the country," he says, kicking off his shoes, before locking his lips with yours again.

Right, his roommate's semester abroad, you almost forgot that he’s living alone at the moment.

"Thank God," you murmur against his lips as you slip your hands under his hoodie and t-shirt, pushing them both up and feeling the goosebumps on his skin as you touch him. He grins at your words and you help him out of his clothes, which he tosses carelessly to the side.

Standing with your back to the door, you had already slipped out of your jacket, it had found its place on the floor next to his clothes. Your noses bump together in the heat of the moment as Megumi pulls your shirt over your head, his lips so desperate to find yours again after being separated for a moment. 

It causes both of you to giggle.

You look at him in awe, and even though you noticed earlier tonight that he must have lost some weight, he still looked so good. You reach out to him and touch his chest, your fingertips ghosting over his skin, tracing the outline of his abs down his stomach until you hook a finger into the waistband of his jeans, and you manage to open them up with the help of your other hand. 

You don't get much further than that, as Megumi presses you up against the door slightly, his hands roaming your body before opening up your bra in a swift motion, tossing it to the side just like he did with your other clothes. His lips were on yours again and he relaxes into the kiss, supporting himself with his left hand next to your face, while his right caressed your waist, squeezing the flesh of your hips and tapping your thigh once, then twice, signaling you to wrap your hands around his neck, so you did. He picked you up with ease, his lips never leaving yours even for a second while your legs wrapped around his waist and he carries you through the room, over to his bed.

Megumi sets you down carefully on the mattress, pulling back for a moment to get rid of his jeans and pulling yours down as well before crawling after you. He hovers over you, supporting himself with both hands next to your face, taking a good look at your body before pressing his mouth to yours and forcing his tongue inside, making you moan against his lips.

His lips trail up your jaw, then down your neck to suck on your sensitive skin. You were lost in thought and the sensation made you flinch for a split second as you were still afraid of any kind of touch to your neck. You did your best not to show it, but of course he noticed.

"'m sorry, baby," Megumi mumbles against your skin, kissing up to the corner of your mouth, while you assure him that everything's alright. 

"It’s okay," you breathe, cupping his face with one hand as you look into his eyes. He hesitates for a moment, but you can see a smile tugging at his lips.

"What?", you ask, brushing a black strand of hair out of his face.

"You look so pretty," he sighs. After all, he was the only one that was able to make you blush like that.

"Oh, stop it." You loved it when he talked like this.

"No, I missed your pretty face," he insists.

"Missed those two pretty girls," he continues, as his lips trail down your chest, kissing your soft skin and latching his mouth onto your hardened nipple, while his hand began to play with the other bud. He drew a few soft moans from you, your fingertips grabbing at his messy hair. 

After giving some attention to them, he released your already swollen nipple with a lewd pop! to move his lips further down your body, peppering your stomach with kisses, his nose brushing over your skin and the cold air hitting your wet buds sent shivers down your spine.

You couldn’t help but whine as he kissed down the inside of your thighs, spreading them apart with his large hands while his fingertips were digging into you skin, revealing the damp fabric of your panties. As he kissed the wet patch that was already starting to form you had no other response for him than the needy moan that escaped your lips, and when you felt his teeth grazing at the seam of your underwear, you grew impatient.

"'Gumi, please," you whimper, your fingers still buried in his dark hair, now slightly tugging at the ends.

"Missed my pretty pussy," he groans, before pulling your wet panties to the side, making you shiver once again as the cold air met your slick. 

"Fuck, you’re so wet for me," Megumi hisses, swiping his thumb over your clit and through your folds, gathering your juices.

"All for me," he muses, looking up at you as you lie there, looking so pretty for him, with flushed cheeks and those lewd moans that you couldn’t stop from escaping your throat.

"Megumi, please," you plead, again, wriggling your hips downwards in his direction, "n-need you, now."

But he ignored your begging, savoured this moment to the fullest while he inspected your pussy, admiring how wet you were just from making out with him.

"Stop being such a fucking tease," you whimper and close your eyes, throwing your head back in a stubborn attempt to grasp a single, clear thought, while your mind was already growing so dizzy with him taking his time.

"Mhm, won’t let me enjoy the view for a moment, huh? So needy already", Megumi groans with a sly grin on his lips. He pulls down your panties in an agonizingly slow motion, keeping them in his hands before coming back up to press a kiss to your lips, which you return hungrily, causing him to chuckle. 

He pulls away, while staring deep into your eyes.

"Open your mouth," he orders while you just stare at him through glassy eyes. You’re perplexed for a second, looking at your panties in his hand.

"I said," he coos, lowering himself down to your ear, "open your mouth."

You finally obey, parting your lips and showing your tongue. Without another word he stuffs your dampened panties into your mouth, the sensation of your own taste on your tongue drawing a muffled moan from you. 

"Next time think twice before giving me orders," he growls into your ear, his low voice making you rub your thighs together in anticipation. You nod, moaning against the fabric as Megumi returns to his original position, and hooks his arms around your legs. Without another warning he licks a thick stripe along your dripping cunt, swirling his tongue through your wet folds, but never quite hitting your clit. He was still teasing you, not giving you what you wanted just because you acted up.

You let out a desperate moan, even though it’s muffled by the soft fabric stuffed into your mouth. A fat tear rolls down your cheek while you’re squirming beneath him, desperate for some attention on your swollen bud. 

His tongue circles your entrance, licking through your folds while he’s eager on not giving your clit too much attention. You whimper and whine, your body trembling underneath him as your hands let go of his hair, moving up your thighs towards your core when you couldn’t wait any longer for him to finally give you what you wanted.

The vibrations of Megumi humming against your slick left you wanting for more, and just as you were about to let your own fingers dive in, giving yourself some kind of release and rubbing at your clit, he grabs both of your wrists with one of his large hands and holds them tightly while he continued to lap at your sweet pussy. You’re left whining and begging, most of your sounds being inaudible, but he could hear how desperate you were. 

You almost choke on your own spit as you suddenly feel him sucking hard on your neglected clit, your hips bucking up towards him made him release your wrists from his tight grip. He dug his fingers into the plush of your thighs to force them back open and keep you from suffocating him between your legs, after they clamped down around his head at the unexpected sensation.

Those deep groans he was releasing into your sopping pussy made you even wetter, and it felt like Megumi wanted to drown in you, his tongue pushing in and out of your hole, circling your clit and sucking on it, while you were only able to roll your eyes back and whine in desperation, your moans getting swallowed as your mouth was stuffed full. 

You throw your head back again, breathing hard through your nose, while hot tears kept flowing down your cheeks, you couldn’t take it, it was just too much for you. 

Megumi glances up at you, watching you squirm and wriggle under his grip, enjoying every second of your struggle, while you felt your core tighten with every swipe of his tongue against your cunt. 

"Oh, I really fucking missed this pussy," he growls, with a grin on his lips, while all you could do was moan so desperately in return.

Your body tenses up as he flicks his tongue against your clit, and just when you thought that you were about to lose your mind, he brings a hand up to push a long digit inside of your clenching hole, sliding in a second as a response to your loud moans right after, pumping them in and out of you slowly, and stretching you out as your walls squeeze down on him. 

"Hnnngh," you whimper, everything else getting swallowed by your soaked panties. You were so close and he knew that, picking up the pace at which he was pumping his digits in and out of you, curling his fingers into your core, while his tongue was relentlessly drawing circles on your sensitive bud. 

"What was that?", he asks, a teasing smirk on his lips, "Speak up." 

You whine and squeeze your thighs together, when finally he pulls the fabric out of your mouth, a string of saliva still clinging to it as drool trickles down the corner of your mouth. 

"So nasty," he grunts, tossing your panties aside, "you’re close?" 

You nod with your eyes closed. "Mhmm," you whine, "’Gonna cum, please, make me cum." 

"Fuck, you look so hot," he groans lowly, "gonna cum for me? Go ahead, baby."

"I’ve got you, cum on my tongue." 

And just as he pushes a third finger inside you, tongue still relentlessly lapping at your wet folds, you let out a loud cry and your head falls back against the mattress. You can feel your cunt squeezing down against his fingers as your orgasm washes over you and your thighs start to shake as he pulls his fingers out, lazily rubbing your throbbing clit through your high, leaving you shuddering while seeing only stars behind your closed eyes.

It takes a while for you to come down again and you peel your eyes open to see Megumi hovering over your body, admiring the fucked out expression on your face. He kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his lips, a small whimper falling from your mouth in return. You cup his face, almost too weak to reach your arm out for him, while he soothingly brushes his thumb over your cheek.

"Did so, so good for me, baby," he coos, you enjoy his praise, and having his warm body pressed up against you felt so familiar.

You’re too overwhelmed as you watch him pull off his briefs, the sight of his cock making you dizzy once again. It’s not like it’s the first time you see him, but every time he manages to make your mouth water just at the sight of how big he his, so big that you can already feel the sting he would cause while stretching you out.

"Tired?", he asks with a smirk on his face, and without waiting for an answer he grabs you by your hips and pulls you towards him. 

"Let me take care of that," he groans, helping you up to place a pillow underneath your hips, "Just relax for me, baby." 

Your face was still so hot, and your cheeks still flushed a deep shade of pink. Your head lolls to the side, exhaustion pulling at your heavy eyelids, as Megumi grabs your chin and turns your face towards him.

"Hey, look at me, babygirl," he chuckles, "'Wanna see your pretty face when my dick’s buried deep inside of you." 

Megumi wastes no time, smearing pre-cum that leaked from his tip along your still completely soaked cunt, and lining himself up with your entrance. You can’t do anything else than let out a helpless gasp as he presses the head of his dick into you.

"Fuck," he hisses, "'Been thinking about this since the last time I’ve got to fuck you." 

He pushes himself in slowly, the stretch of his girth still giving you a stinging sensation, even though his fingers were already trying to prepare you earlier. You can hear your own desperate whines bouncing off the walls of his bedroom, and as he grabs both of your legs to throw them over his shoulder to bottom out completely, a high-pitched moan escapes your throat.

"Fuck, y’feel so good, 'Gumi," you whine, "S-so big, stretching me out so well."

"You’re still so fucking tight," Megumi huffs, kissing your ankles while his hands grab onto your legs for support, "I won’t last long if you’re squeezing me like that, fuck."

All you could hear was the sound of his wet skin, coated in your juices, slapping against your ass, while he pushed into you, increasing his pace with every thrust, fucking you senseless. There was nothing there to muffle the lewd moans that left your lips and you were so fucked out that you didn’t care about his neighbors anymore, you weren’t even able to hold back your sounds.

He hit your cervix a few times in a row, causing you to see stars and desperately search for anything to hold on to. Those whimpers and whines that fell from your lips were in sync with his thrusts, and soon you were nothing but a crying mess beneath him.

"F-fuck, M-megumi," you sob, trying to catch your breath, your fingers digging into the sheets, "S-slow down, it’s too—nnghh." 

"Slow down?", a low groan escapes him as he rolls his hips into yours at a steady pace, "already got lost in this pussy, you better hold on tight." You look up at him, your eyebrows drawn together, and you see sweat trickling down his temples.

"Oh god," you moan out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, while he fills you all the way up with every snap of his hips against yours. You feel like losing your mind for the second time tonight, your walls clenching and throbbing around him, sucking him in so deep that you’re wondering how he’s even able to thrust in and out of you at that pace. 

"Shit," Megumi curses, and you’re so close that you nearly cum again with one harsh brush of his pelvis against your swollen clit. He had already fucked you dumb, tears stinging in your eyes and when he leaned down, pushing your legs up to your chest, you knew that he was close too. The feeling of your pussy clenching around him made him falter and he had to support himself by clutching onto the headboard, to not completely crush you while leaning onto your body. 

You can feel how your walls tighten around his length and hearing his low, breathy moans against your ear made your second orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Megumi notices how you grab tighter onto the sheets, so he moves the angle of his hips just a bit to hit your sweet spot and it immediately does it’s magic, you’re left sobbing when you feel the knot in your stomach tightening.

"You gonna cum with me, baby?", Megumi pants and while you’re unable to form any logical sentence, all you’re able to reply is a drawn-out moan as he pushes you over the edge a second time tonight. You feel his thrusts getting sloppier with every stroke while your second high washes over you and then he practically collapses on top of your body. His body is trembling as he releases thick ropes of his load deep into your abused pussy, and you hold him while he curses and whines 'Fuck, you feel so good' and 'Shit, I was so afraid I lost you for good this time' 

and also 'I love you so much'.

He almost crushes you with his weight as he leans down and presses his lips to yours, drowning in that afterglow. You're too exhausted to say anything, so you’re just stroking his back soothingly, listening to your heart beating in sync, while you’re coming down from your high.

After a while he slides off you, not without planting another kiss on your temple, and grabs the blanket at the foot of his bed to pull it over you both, his body pressed up against yours behind you, one arm draped over your waist. You both lie in silence for a while, just enjoying each others warmth.

"I didn’t hesitate because I missed you so much I couldn’t even think straight," you mumble, answering the question he asked you in the car earlier.

"The moment you left the room, I knew I wouldn't see you again for a while."

"You do this every time, do you know that?", you swallow when you feel him pulling you in against his chest, "You treat me like shit, then we make up and you say you’ll stay, and then you're gone."

"Y/n…" You hear his raspy voice against your hair.

"No, we have to work on this," you insist and turn around to face him, your hand placed flat against his bare chest, "I don’t wanna lose you." Your voice sounded brittle, almost fragile.

Megumi sits up again, resting his back against the headboard, while you stay in your position, scooting over to him a little bit to lean your head against his side. "I promise you we’ll work this out, y/n." You were naive enough that this was sufficient for you. After all, you had no other choice but to rely on his words.

You climb out of his bed to put on your t-shirt and search for your underwear until you remember what happened to it. How convenient that you left some clothes at his place a while ago, so you go over to his wardrobe to find something suitable. You cringe a little at the sight of the white thong embroidered with the words 'Lucky You'. 

You bought it when you were like eighteen and you have to chuckle while putting it on. Well, you weren’t so wrong back then.

Megumi looks up after hearing you giggle and you throw him a pair of grey sweatpants and his black hoodie, which he puts on, but not without taking another look at you.

"Mhmm—guess I am," he rasps, lifting the covers to motion for you to come back to him, "Come here."

You grab your phone and walk over to him, cuddling up to his warm body while turning your phone back on. You wanted to know what time it was, and you remembered turning it off earlier when Maki tried to call you. 

Your phone screen turns white before you see your lock screen, a picture of you, Maki and Nobara, and as soon as it gets a signal, several notifications pop up all at once. You had about six missed calls from Maki and Yuta, even Shoko had texted you and right at the bottom of the screen were three messages from Choso.

'Are you with him?'

'Text me if you’re alright'

'I swear to god, y/n, if he hurts you, I’m gon…'

You weren’t fast enough to hide the texts from Megumi.

I can’t be your second best Close but not your favorite I keep going back for more Where there’s nothing from before

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Forget-Me-Not 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Loki

Summary: You return to your childhood home to put the past to rest.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You spend the night on the couch. You don't go further than the bathroom. You can't bring yourself to check her bedroom or the one you left behind.

You go out to get your bag and change in the yellow haze glowing behind the faded curtains. You check the time. Jan is expecting you in an hour.

You emerge into the dewy morning and tramp down to ground level. You get in the car, reversing out without looking back at the dingy house. The final farewell can't come soon enough for the slanted walls.

Jan is out in the yard, hammering a pineboard as you drive down his lot. His white hair curls with the sweat beading on his skin. He stills the hammer and wipes his forehead as you pull up. 

You get out as he greets you in the way all the villagers do. A manufactured friendliness that cannot erase their true judgement. They smile in face just as easily as the mutter your name under their breath. You mother harboured little good will in Hammer Ford and blood is sacred here.

“Sorry to hear,” he says.

“Matter of time,” you shrug dismissively.

“Isn't no way to come home,” he shakes his head and coughs into his fist, “walnut,” he points the hammer over his shoulder, “like ya said.”

Walnut, like the dining table. Where she sat and drank herself into that box. You nod and follow him over to the casket. The hinges are brass and the finish is rough. What does it matter? It's just going into the dirt.

“Got cash,” you say. Jan doesn't deal with the bank, everyone knows that. Funny the little things that stick with you.

“Thanks,” he accepts the bills as you count them out. So much for a rainy day. The sun shine bright as if mocking the grin affair beneath its watch. “I'll have it taken down to Norn's.”

“Yep,” you agree, “she's there.”

You head out without further niceties. Neither of you uphold those. Better to say what you mean and nothing else.

You get to the property line and idle. You turn away from the woods. You're not ready to go back yet. 

You stop by the church first. Father Oswald sits with you to discuss the ceremony. You'll say a few words at the grave site. You don't think anyone would come to a wake. You don't want them to.

You set off again, still reluctant to retrace your steps. You drive to the spare core of the village and park outside the library. You cross the street and peer in through the window of the bakery. It wasn't there when you left.

You venture inside and peruse the sweets behind the glass. You order a black coffee and a cinnamon bun. You pay the woman behind the counter, vaguely familiar. You're certain she was a few years behind you at school.

You sit and pick at the glazed dough. You don't have much of an appetite. You don't feel much of anything. You're just wading through, try not to get lost in the tide.

You sip the coffee. Bold but rich. Not bad. Better than the instant powder gone stale in your mother's cupboard.

The door opens and shuts, several times over as you stare at the table. The city taught you apathy. You don't let the noise bother you.

The chair across from you slides out and a figure plants themselves on the seat. You raise your head, your vision narrowing to make sense of their features. You turn your head to gaze out the window as Loki blows over the top of a mug. 

You slide out your phone, a defence mechanism. Still no reception. You put it down and keep your attention diverted. He clears his throat and taps his toe next to yours.

“You know, I do have an important matter to discuss with you,” he says.

You don't react. You know that's what he wants. That's why he showed up the night before. He undoubtedly insisted on being his clan’s representative.

“You've sent your condolences.”

“Mm, yes, but that isn't what I mean,” he traces his finger up the handle of his mug. “The house.”

You lower your brows and keep your eyes beyond the window. The village moves slow as ever. Not like the endless flow of the city streets. There's no where to hide here.

“My father has an offer. The property has value.”

You check your cup, almost empty. You swig the last of it. You stand and gather the cup and unfinished dessert. You put the porcelain on the counter and toss the cinnamon bun on your way out.

The door doesn't close behind you. He's following you. Your heartbeat piques. In an instant, you're hurled into the past. You're running through broken twigs as he snickers behind you. You ball your hands as your breath hitches.

You cross the street without looking, only just dodging a bumper. You go to your car, fumbling with your keys. Before you can stick them in the slot, there's a snare around your arm.

You spin and shove Loki off of you, biting down on a shriek. You glare at him and point the key at his chin.

“Not interested.”

“My father will give you more than the bank,” he counters. 

“Don't care.”

He sniffs and quorks his head, “is this because I never called?”

You choke on a scoff. You turn and ram the keys in the slot and twist. You open the door as you step around it. The edge hits him as you swing into the driver’s seat.

“The house is worthless. The bank will give you pennies for the land.”

“Go tell your daddy you failed,” you sneer and yank the door shut, hitting the lock with your fist.

You start the engine without a glance in his direction. You pull put as he barely avoids getting his toes run over. Just as ever, this village belongs to the Odinsons. They won't have to pay the bank much to get what they want but you will never sign your name next to theirs.

[russellsppttemplates]

I'm in this if you are (Lance Stroll)

Lance wants to show you how wonderful love can be

Note: english is not my first language. this is a long piece that I hope will keep the interactions back up (I love getting your requests and overall having you interact with the posts and having some random thoughts shared too!), so I hope you enjoy this piece as this is my first Lance request * nervous giggles *

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

Tw: mentions (bad) past relationships, curse words

my masterlist

"Is it okay if we meet up at the park instead?", you suggested to Lance over the phone, "it's only a five minute walk from work for me", earning an affirmative answer on the other side of the line as well as a farewell.

Packing your backpack with your laptop and a book you had to bring home for the weekend, switching everything off and ringing your card so you could get yourself out, heading for the park Lance was meeting you at.

It was something new, so you were being cautious. After all, you had fallen for people before who weren't good for you in the end, so you had learnt to keep your distance. But did you hope that maybe this time it would be different. The Canadian young man and you have been spending some time together after meeting through a mutual friend, and today was no different since he had texted you earlier if you would be up for a stroll in the park after you were done from work, having you accept it and even letting yourself feel giddy about it.

Following the directions he gave you, you saw him sitting in the bench like he had told you, getting up once he saw you and coming closer to you, "Hi, how are you?", he said, giving you a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, "Hi, I've been good, very happy that it's Friday so I get the to be home for the weekend. And you, busy day?", you greeted him back and continuing to walk alongside him, "yeah, the meeting was about the last few things we need to sort out before the race next weekend, so it got a bit longer than I expected but it was all good, means I didn't have to wait too long for you, but I did get you these", he said, showing you a small white paper bag, leaving you to open it.

The small sticker that closed the bag was enough to get you to gasp, recognising your favourite bakery chain's logo, "you say they always run out in the shop they have near your office, so I dropped by the one close to the factory to see if they had some and they did", Lance smiled, seeing you smile back at him, "thank you! Do you want to go and enjoy these by the lake?", you suggested, seeing that it wasn't too busy around there.

Sitting down on the dry grass, you and Lance sat in front of eachother, talking about your day and laughing at funny moments from eachother's day while sharing the croissants he had gotten, "thank you, again, you didn't have to", you pointed to the empty bag, whisking any crumbs away from your lips and clothes, "it was only fair that I got to try "the best croissants ever" according to you, and since I had some time to kill before I met you here, and it is always a pleasure to see your eyes sparkle like that", he said softly, noticing the blush on your cheeks and your shyness coming through, taking the hint to keep talking, "and a croissant like this after a long meeting and at a park like this with this company, there's not much more than I want".

.

You were dancing around in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil so you could put the pasta in, singing to the lyrics before you phone stopped the song and instead made the sound of an incoming FaceTime call, seeing Lance's contact on your screen. "Hi Lance!", you greeted, waving at the screen, "Hey, you, am I catching you at a bad time?", he asked, lighting what looked like a nightsand lamp, "Just making dinner. Is this a good time for you though? You look like you're going to sleep", you cringed, propping your phone since one of the glss containers you had on your counter top so you could put the pasta in and still she Lance while he saw you in shot too, "I wanted to talk to you", he mused, "I saw your text, but they needed me to fix something on the steering wheel and just to be sure I called now because I was afraid you'd be working still and I would interrupt it", he reasoned.

Hoping the LED light that illuminated your working area in the kitchen hid your blushing cheeks, you managed to reply, "I was just checking in with you, seeing how it went. Aren't you tired or in need of sleep? We can talk another day, it's fine", you admitted, even though deep down you were enjoying his (virtual) company, especially seeing him like this, tucked into bed in his pyjamas and looking so handsome and soft, "I'm okay, don't worry", he yawned, "so, what are you cooking?".

Conversation flowed while you cut the vegetables so you could cook them in the pan, sharing the recipe with Lance and coming closer to the phone whenever you were letting things cook on their own, supporting your face on the palms of your hands while your elbows rested on the counter top, doing one final move to plate your pasta, "uhh, that looks good!", Lance exclaimed, seeing you top the dish with some cheese, "it usually tastes good, yeah, and it's also very quick to make. I began just when we started this call and we've been here for- oh, we've been here for nearly an hour! Lance, you could've told me! You probably need to sleep, I'm sorry that I kept you here!", you apologised, guilt overcoming your whole body. You truly didn't think you had been on call with Lance for such a long time, it was truly flowing and, above anything, feeling comfortable.

"You don't have to apoligise, I stayed here because I wanted to be with you and spend time with you, unless you're apologising because I bothered you", he hinted, "No! No, not at all, I loved sort of having you here with me", you hurriedly clarified, "I just didn't want to bother you or your sleep routine, it's really late where you are", you shot him another apologetic look, "I said none of that, no apologising for this anymore. I enjoyed having you here with me too", he smiled softly, "but if I don't go to sleep soon, tomorrow is going to hurt", he reasoned.

Sitting by your table, you propped the phone again against your bottle of water, "sleep is very important, Lanc-", you were interrupted by him, "but I need to know if the pasta is delicious or not, it's only fair", he winked as you rolled your fork on the plate, grabbing bit of everything and trying it, "it's amazing, I can confirm", you said, "you look like a little chipmunk, and your dimple is showing too. Totally worth it staying up this late", he complimented, leaving you to bid him goodbye, "goodnight Lance, have a good sleep", you whispered, switching off the call when Lance gave you the same wishes, giddily smiling at your pasta at his attentiveness, allowing yourself to be swept off your feet.

.

"Was it as good as your pasta, though?", Lance asked you as you walked along the city streets after leaving the restaurant where you had dinner. The small and cosy local restaurant was perfect for another date with Lance, your hand latched in his since you left the restaurant after thanking the owner for a great evening, "I'm not a professional, so this one was better, but my own has potential too, you know?", you giggled, allowing yourself to lean a little bit on Lance, pulling your bodies closer to one another, making him also feel your own easiness around him, which he appreciated. From the moment he met you, he knew you wouldn't be swept off your feet with elaborate dinner dates and fancy invitations to lavish places. Above anything, he noticed you were cautious, not that he thought that you were expecting him to do you any physical harm, but because maybe you had been emotionally hurt before. Because of that, Lance made it his mission to show you what love could be like, how beautiful and how simple two people who care about eachother could develop into something more.

Seeing a flower peeking out of a house fence, Lance couldn't contain himself and he plucked it, making you stop, "Here, look at me, please", he mumbled, tucking the flower behind your ear carefully, his eyes boring into yours, "I really like you, Y/N", he confessed, "and I won't pressure you into anything, I can wait. Damn, I'll wait forever for you if I have to. But I don't want you to go on without knowing this", he smiled hopefully, not knowing your reaction as he hadn't planned to do it like this.

Cupping his cheek, your thumb ran over his cheek, softly touching the corner of his lips in a silent question to know if he too wanted it before you leaned up to kiss him, pressing your lips in his for a tender kiss, pulling back to see eachother's reaction, only to crash his lips against yours passionately.

"I really like you too", you whispered, afraid to disturb the moment between you, earning a chuckle from Lance, "I should hope so, imagine if you were to tell me now that you despised me after that kiss, I don't think I could handle it", he placed his hand on top of his heart, earning him a small slap on his chest, "I'm trying to be serious with you", you whined, "So am I, Y/N, completely serious. I'm in this if you are", he said as he hugged your, kissing your forehead before kissing your lips again, "I think I found a new favourite thing to do".

.

"So you don't want to go?", Lance questioned, "it's not that I don't want to go and see you do what you love, it's the whole thing, Lance", you murmured, "I'd have to fly out on a different day, I'd have to sleep somewhere, and that whole thing needs to be accounted for, I need to sit down and look properly at all of it", you almost hissed at him, not enjoying the tone it came out of your mouth but going with it nonetheless.

"But I can pay for all of that. I am, in fact, paying for all of that, that's why I'm offering you to come to a race weekend", Lance admitted, frustrated that something so simple for him was causing a fight between you, "and that is one of my problems! I don't want you to have to take care of me like that, I can take of myself, I'm not dependent on anyone and I can do things on my own!", you admitted, voice shaky while you looked at him, "I need a minute, please", you said as you felt your eyes grow wetter, excusing yourself to go to your balcony.

You knew Lance had money, a whole lot of it, so much so that, realistically, you coming along with him to the race would go probably unnoticed in his bank balance, but that didn't mean you were totally comfortable with him paying for everything. You could take care of yourself, now you knew that, despite of years of previous boyfriends telling you it would be hard for you to make it on your own and by your own merit. And you were scared, because was this the way this was going to end? Had you been, yet again, blinded by a guy who wanted you to be what he liked, who wanted to build you to the image he wanted and needed you to depict?

Inside, Lance noticed the cold air coming from the small gap of the door to the balcony that you had left open, imagining how much colder it would be for you, standing outside, looking around in hopes to find what he was looking for.

You heard the door squeak as it opened, thinking to yourself it was just the breeze when you heard footsteps, thinking for a second someone had broken into your house uninvited, "I'd prefer if you didn't have a cold", Lance said softly as he draped a blanket over your shoulders carefully, not missing your stunned expression, "you're still here?", you managed to let out, "I, I thought you were going to leave, I didn't think you'd stay", you stuttered, "Why would I leave?", Lance asked and almost immediately he answered his own question: because that's all you've ever known. When things got complicated, they would leave you. So you naturally thought he would do the same.

"Y/N, I'm not going to leave you when we fight", Lance said, keeping himself close to you, holding himself against the railing, "that is a promise I intend on keeping to you, and I'm going to do my absolute best to make sure that I won't break it", he declared, "Can we talk about it though?".

Holding his hand in yours, you nudged him to sit in one of the chairs you had in your balcony, sitting in front of him so you could express what was on your mind, "this is a bad story from past experiences, so if you still want to make that exit, I promise I'll manage and forget what you just side", you suggested playfully, feeling him squeeze you hand tighter in his own, "I've been in bad relationships before, it probably does not come to a surprise to you, but some things still haunt me years after. I used to have a boyfriend that would get me presents, or he would pay for things, and for a bit a just took it down as he was being nice, but he slowly started offering things in exchange of something, like me changing what I wore because I would wear something he got me instead, or change what I ate, who I spent time with, ans slowly everything he somehow offered turned out to be because he thought I couldn't do it on my own, that I wouldn't ever be able to sustain myself independently, so he thought he might as well "help me" and change who I was in the process", you gulped, "and I only realised it later, when his supposed affection for me was only there when I complied with what he asked of me, and the moment I realised was a constant fight, day in day out, where he left and then he would come back and belittle so much into thinking that it was my fault he would leave and we wouldn't solve anything we were fighting about", you confessed, "breaking up wasn't even the hardest part, but the scars that it left me with are still here, that's why I thought you would leave, because you wouldn't want to hear my side and-, fuck", you wiped a tear that insisted on falling, going back to play with Lance's fingers after, "I love you so much, I care about you so much, and you make me feel things I've never felt before without any conditions", you looked up at him, seeing an expression that was a mixture of sadness, anger and maybe some revolt too.

Lance brought your hands together and kissed them, "thank you for sharing that with me, I appreciate it", he began, "and I'm so sorry that some bastard thought it was okay to treat you like that, because it is not", he squeezed your hands, rubbing his thumb on them, "you deserve to feel all the love in the world without anything in it other that love itself. I get to be loved by you and that is one of my biggest blessings, and I'll be damned if I ever make you feel less loved or less appreciated than you deserve. But that promise I made is true, I want us to always talk about something that we don't see eye to eye on, so we can understand the other's perspective, I don't want to run away from anything", he nodded for you to continue, signalling he was done.

"I'm not from the same social or professional sphere that you are, and that makes me wonder about this whole situation, like there isn't a way that I can keep up with all of that travel on my own", you admitted honestly, "and I don't know how I feel about you covering those costs, like, of course I want to go see you do your thing at the track, and be there to support you, to congratulate you when you win and to hold you when things don't go as well, even if it's not all the time, but all of that seems a lot", you explained the situation to the best of your ability.

"Can I go now?", Lance wondered, his hands still holding yours, "I don't want to sound like a prick, or like I'm flashing everyone of how much I have, but it is also true that I don't mind paying for those things. Truly. And I don't do it because I want some change from you in return. I do it because I am fortunately able to and because I want the people I love with me as much as they're able to", he said, moving his hand to caress your cheek, "I never want you to think for a second that anything that I offer, present you with or pay for is a way of manipulating you", he assured, looking for your own reassurance in your eyes.

You shuffled around in your seat, looking into those beautiful brown eyes you loved so much, "thank you", you smiled through your tears, "you don't have to thank me for loving you, I should be the one thanking you for trusting me and for letting me love you".

[ragnarokhound]

((you don’t have to do both if you don’t want to, you can consider this one a back up / alt))

“If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.” 💞

From this writing prompt list i reblogged in...november lmao fljdsjfa

anyway this grew legs and sprinted away the second I picked it up yesterday - clearly it just needed some time to proof lmao. Thank you for the ask, tauria!! From *checks watch* almost 5 months ago fjdslafjsa I will be cross-posting it to Ao3 in my new oneshot collection fic :)

Warnings for: Vague allusions that Ra's Al Ghul is a creep (what else is new), threats of gun violence, canon-typical violence

15. “If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.”

When Tim arrived in Gotham this morning, he had no way of knowing that his day would end in Jason Todd’s bed. 

Frankly, he wasn’t really sure what bed he’d end up in— because his own certainly wasn’t an option right now. But If he had to pick, Jason Todd’s was somewhere near the bottom of whatever list he’d make.

He didn’t exactly plan on this, okay? 

But, uh. Let’s back up a little.

—

Tim knew his day was going to go to shit when he got back from the airport at 7 AM.

He had his driver drop him off two blocks away from his townhouse for the sake of caffeine at the hole in the wall place he likes. Wealthy CEO he may be, but a sixteen hour flight is still a sixteen hour flight and Tim is cursed with an inability to sleep in the air. 

Don’t ask. He’s tried. It doesn’t work.

So he wants coffee, and he wants a shower, and he wants his own bed. In that order.

With the first thing on his list acquired and blessedly burning his tongue, he managed to tug his brain cells together enough to realize that the building they’d passed that had been shrouded in tents and canvas was his building.

"What's going on here?"

The worker outside his building looks up from her clipboard, her face wrinkling into apprehensive confusion.

"Hello, sir. Can I help you?”

He hasn’t slept in roughly seventy two hours. He is not awake or patient enough for this.

“My name is Tim Drake. I own this building. What’s going on here?” He repeats.

The woman raises her eyebrows and looks down at her clipboard again. “Mr. Drake?” She questions, clearly expecting him to look like a grown-ass man and not a sleep-deprived college student coming home from spring break or whatever.

“Yes. Timothy Drake-Wayne. Why are you—” he tries to gesture with the hand still holding his suitcase handle, walking towards the tarps and tents erected around his townhouse with increasing trepidation, “—here?”

“I’m sorry sir, but you can’t go in there. Not for at least forty-eight hours.”

Tim stops in his tracks.

“Forty-eight—?”

“We've been scheduled to fumigate the property today.” She says it like she’s reading it out of a handbook. “It won't be safe to enter the building for at least forty-eight hours. You should have received prior notice. Uh. Sir.”

Tim's jet-lagged brain kicks into overdrive. 

Bruce hasn't made any disappointed noises about Tim’s perfectly normal work ethic lately so it probably wasn't a misguided attempt at benching him. And besides, rendering Tim’s apartment inaccessible is counterproductive on that front. 

Dick wouldn’t. They haven’t been exactly— great, lately but he wouldn’t. Besides, if he wanted to get Tim out of the house more, he’d show up to drag Tim out into the daylight himself. This is a little too roundabout for him.

It’s too much work to be Steph. She would think it’s funny, but there’s no way she’d follow through.

Damian might, but this doesn’t quite fit his preferred methods for making Tim’s life hell. It could be some cloak and dagger maneuver to leave him vulnerable, faking a complaint to the city so he’ll—

And then Tim thinks about the call.

The call he’d brushed off at fuck o’clock in the morning somewhere over Europe, too busy with another project. The call his secretary took for him instead. He thinks about the distracted confirmation he’d given to whatever it was she’d asked him about five minutes later. 

He also thinks about the form he signed about two weeks ago, before this last minute trip to Hong Kong had consumed his entire attention. The one with “Two Weeks Notice” stamped across the top. His stomach sinks.

“Today,” he repeats.

She looks apologetic. “Today,” she confirms. “And we just started about an hour ago. I’m very sorry, Mr. Drake-Wayne but—”

"No it's—" he says through gritted teeth, "fine. I'll just. Make other arrangements."

—

He does not make other arrangements. Though not for lack of trying.

Tim has a handful of safehouses scattered throughout the city. He has options. He gets a taxi to the closest neighborhood, and nearly falls asleep in the backseat. The cabby has to knock on the glass divider to get his attention when they come to a stop. He grumbles and hauls his suitcase out of the backseat, and tips the man excessively.

Shower. Bed. Sleep. He’s so close he could cry.

Except when he finally rolls around the block, coffee half gone and trying to remember if this safehouse is the one with in-unit laundry or if he’ll have to haul his shit down to the laundry room, his building is a blackened husk with police tape all around it.

He stops on the sidewalk. He peers up at the window of his unit, squinting at the peeling black wood and shattered glass. He ponders whether two is enough data points to be considered a pattern. And whether he could get away with napping in the alley on this street or if that’ll end with him stabbed and robbed.

As he’s pondering, he catches sight of a passerby and stops him.

“‘Scuse me,” he says apologetically. “What the hell happened here?”

The guy looks up from his phone and takes in his rumpled clothes, his suitcase, and the scorched remains of his apartment.

“Oh, uh. Yeah, there was a big fire about a week back? Bad fire. Took out, like, half the block. Cops are saying it’s arson.”

“A week ago,” Tim repeats. The guy’s eyes widen.

“Oh shit, bro, did you live here?”

“I’ve been out of town,” he explains numbly.

“Dude, that sucks. And right in the middle of con’ season. Good luck finding a hotel!”

“Yeah,” Tim sighs as the guy walks away. “Thanks.”

—

The next safehouse he tries isn’t in much better shape. 

He remembers hearing about Freeze going on a rampage a few days into his trip, but he hadn’t realized another one of his places had been caught in the cross-fire. The cold burst the pipes, and now the whole place is undergoing renovation.

He hears all this from the crotchety old lady who lives in the next building over (her building needs renovation too, but will the city pay for it? Of course not, they weren’t ‘directly impacted by disaster’ so they won’t see a penny of relief funds even though their pipes are on the same line. Typical) and when he finally extricates himself from the conversation, it’s almost noon, his second cup of coffee is long-since empty and he’s at the end of his goddamn rope.

By the time he sees his next safehouse, he isn’t even surprised anymore.

“Does God hate me?” He asks the boarded up building. “Is this a punishment? What did I do? What the fuck did I do?”

He is 99% sure at this point that someone is burning his bolt holes. There’s a short list of people with the resources and the intel to do it, and while he’s not above ruling out the likes of Damian just yet, he seriously doubts anyone wearing a bat is behind this. 

Besides, Dick would have noticed by now if Damian were sinking this many resources into convoluted covert ops designed to make Tim suffer. Definitely. Probably.

Fuck it.

He goes around the back and hops on top of his suitcase to reach the clunky camera watching the back entrance. This building is on the shittier side, closer to Crime Alley than his other haunts; cameras break all the time around here. He’ll have it replaced after he’s a functional human again.

Reportedly, this building was tagged for ‘high toxicity levels’—  which is pretty typical for any building where fear toxin or Joker gas are found in any amount. They must have found a lot to condemn the whole building, but Tim is confident he’ll be fine. The airborne shit dissipates to safe levels within hours depending on the ventilation. If it was in the air, it’s long gone. Anything else needs to be injected to be effective.

Once the camera’s busted, he kicks out the boards and heads inside.

He drags his suitcase in after him, and mourns the shower he probably won’t be getting. The hall lights are out, and chances are the water’s been shut off along with the electricity. But at this point, he simply does not give a shit. All he wants are four walls and a mattress.

Leaning on the door to his floor to make it open, he stumbles out into the hallway—

And catches sight of the glistening curved dagger stabbed into the wall next to his door, the hilt gleaming green in the sinking sun.

“Nope,” Tim says, spinning on his heel and going back down the stairwell double time. “Nope, nope, nope.”

He is now 100% certain that the League of Assassins has been burning his bolt holes. Ra’s al fucking Ghul can eat his whole ass.

—

Seven blocks away, Tim sits on the sidewalk in front of a bodega and contemplates a third cup of coffee. The shittiest one yet.

See, here’s the thing.

The thing is, he has options.

He could go to the Manor. Or the penthouse. Or to Steph’s place. He’d have to answer some unnecessary questions like ‘Master Timothy, you know you can’t sleep on aircraft, why didn’t you sleep before your flight’ or ‘Tim, why didn’t you come here first, you know you can still come to me if you’re in trouble, right’ or ‘why did you agree to fumigate your fucking house, you loser, lmao’. (Stephanie is not going to let him live this down). 

He is absolutely certain that he would be welcomed in any of these places and after a completely undeserved amount of fussing, he could take a fucking nap and someone else would deal with the League bullshit for him.

And that’s the thing. There’s the rub.

No one should have to deal with the League bullshit for him. This is his problem. He’s not in a hurry to bring them down on anyone. Not even Damian.

With grim resignation, he reaches for his phone to try and find a hotel room (during a con’ weekend apparently, RIP) and maybe get a fucking handle on this whole stupid thing, when he hears:

“Hand over your wallet!”

He lifts his head slowly and finds himself looking down the barrel of a gun. A gun held by some guy wearing a ski mask in broad fucking daylight. There’s another guy next to him who’s watching the street. There’s a third guy somewhere behind him who he can’t see, but he can hear the scuff of his boots.

Sure. Why not. With the day he’s had, this might as well happen. He holds up his hands placatingly.

Tim contemplates his muggers. The guy with the gun is jittery, probably new to this, or hopped up on something. He keeps glancing between Tim and the bodega behind him, so they were probably planning a run on the till. Might have chickened out, or thought Tim was an easier target, an unexpected meal ticket plopped right in their path. Or they were already inside when Tim sat down, which wouldn’t bode well for his situational awareness seeing as he just came out of there himself.

The grinding gears of his tired brain keep getting caught on the fact that this is happening in the middle of the fucking day. Tim glances at the street corner and bites his cheek in frustration. Yeah, he’s smack dab in the middle of the Alley. Figures.

“Are you deaf or somethin’ man?” The guy with the gun is saying. “Hand over your fucking wallet!”

The other guy doesn’t seem as crazy-eyed. He’s nervous, though. He keeps looking around like he’s expecting Batman to materialize, to come whistling down the street like a beat cop.

“Dude, come on, it’s not fucking worth it,” he says, grabbing at the gunman’s shoulder. “We got the money, let’s fucking go.”

The third guy kicks over Tim’s suitcase. “Yeah, come on, Don, let’s just grab this shit and bounce.”

Tim can’t do anything. He’s not Red Robin right now. He’s Timothy Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and he’s getting mugged in front of a bodega at two in the afternoon in a rumpled suit and tie and still toting his suitcase from his early morning flight. 

His hands are trembling from unspent adrenaline, too much caffeine, and not enough sleep. His eyelids are the heaviest they’ve ever been in his godforsaken life. His ears are ringing. He could knock all three of them down in less time than it takes to tie his shoelaces. But he can’t.

“Shut up, Johnny, look at him shaking! What’s he gonna do? If he doesn’t wanna get shot, rich boy’s gonna hand over all his fucking shit!”

“Hey, let’s just—” Tim tries to say.

Stars explode across his vision as Tim takes a punch he genuinely wasn’t expecting. He stares up at the blue sky for about half a second, more confused than anything else, before the gunman grabs him by the front of his shirt and hauls him up to shout in his face.

“What’s it gonna be, pretty boy?!”

Caught on the exhausted edge between vigilante training and the preservation of his identity, Tim is frozen. He doesn’t know what to do. He kind of wants to cry.

“Gee, Donny, what is it gonna be?” A fourth voice says, full of false cheer.

Tim blinks. So do the muggers. 

He knows that voice.

“Who the fuck—?” The gunman drops Tim, spinning around and into a fist. He tumbles down to the ground, out cold.

Everything happens pretty quickly after that.

Jason Todd is in civvies. He’s sporting a worn out looking hoodie and a pair of jeans that have seen better days. But his heavy boots are the same ones he wears for his uniform, and the kick he delivers to Johnny’s face is all Red Hood.

Almost in a daze, Tim watches him fight with the usual mix of seething envy and raw desire that rears its ugly head any time he gets to see Jason in action. He’s fast, decisive. Efficient. Beautiful. Tim wishes he had Jason’s skill. And he wishes— 

Well. He wishes a lot of things about Jason Todd.

Tim is pretty sure he and Jason are friends. Maybe. Probably. They’ve pretty much moved past the whole “replacement”, “zombie-dickhead” part of their relationship and have graduated to occasionally providing backup on ops that overlap in each other’s sectors, ganging up on Dick when they’re all in the same room, and maintaining a surprisingly steady stream of vigilante gossip to keep each other in the loop. 

So, ok, yes, due to the aforementioned, he’s pretty sure they’re friends. And also because Jason wouldn’t have stuck his neck out for him otherwise. He would have just let him get mugged.

Watching Jason fight is one of Tim’s favorite pastimes. But right now, Tim’s usual appreciation is soured by the gut-roiling embarrassment of being caught in this position by Jason of all people. His eyes itch. His cheek throbs. He’s so fucking tired.

“Hey, little stalker,” Jason says suddenly, holding out an expectant hand in Tim’s face. The muggers are groaning on the ground around them. Tim isn’t sure when that happened. He might have zoned out. “Did you know that you had a stalker for a change?”

Tim flushes. “I resent that. I haven’t stalked anyone in years.” He takes the hand. It’s warm, and calloused, and big around his.

Jason laughs at him and yanks him to his feet. “Liar.”

Tim’s mouth twists into a scowl. He tries to glare at Jason, but he can feel himself swaying and Jason still hasn’t let go of him, and it’s ruining everything.

Also, lowkey, Jason is right. But in his defense, it is literally their job to stalk people, so.

“I haven’t stalked you in years then. Just other guys. Bad guys. Not non-bad guys. Fuck. You know what I mean. Whatever.” He pauses; recalibrates. “Had?” He asks.

Jason’s eyebrows inched higher and higher the longer Tim talked. Tim doesn’t blame him.

“Yeah. Had.” 

So much for the League, Tim muses.

Jason gives him a once over before tugging decisively on Tim’s wrist, easily grabbing the handle of his suitcase and starting to walk with both in tow, to Tim’s rising horror. 

“You’re coming with me, shortstack. What’s wrong with you? Are you drunk? You look like shit.”

Tim tries to yank his wrist out of Jason’s grip, but the asshole doesn’t budge. “I’m not drunk,” Tim snaps. “I’m fine. I’m just. I’m just… really tired.”

Jason stops abruptly, and Tim stumbles into his shoulder.

“I can see that,” he says, steadying Tim with an amused but ultimately sympathetic look. He loads Tim’s suitcase onto the back of a motorcycle that Tim literally just now noticed. 

God, he’s fucked. And not even in a fun way. 

“C’mon,” Jason says. “Don’t fall asleep on the way over— road rash sucks ass.”

—

They don’t talk on the way to— wherever Jason is taking them, but once they’re parked in a random garage and walking towards the elevators, the game of twenty questions begins.

“So why’ve you got League assassins after you, anyway? Piss in a lazarus pit? Push over the baby brat on the playground?”

“Ra’s al Ghul wants my body,” Tim says, dejected but resigned to this bizarre fact of his life. “Since I was seventeen, I’m pretty sure.”

Jason wrinkles his nose. “Ew.”

“I don’t think it’s a sex thing? But it could also be a sex thing.”

“Again. Fucking ew.”

“Yeah. Also I blew up a bunch of his shit and I think he’s still salty I got away with it.”

“Is that why you weren’t at the Manor?” Jason asks, herding Tim out of the elevator and down a long hallway. “Or anywhere but a random street in Crime Alley?”

Tim nods. “Yeah. They found all my safehouses, but— my mess. My problem.”

Jason thwacks him upside the head.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

“You’re the dumbest person on the planet.”

“Am not. B is on-planet right now.”

“Then you’re pretty fucking close,” Jason snarks, fishing out some keys and opening one of the apartment doors.

Tim scoffs at him as he’s pushed inside. “Oh, please. Don’t try to tell me you would let Dick swoop in and solve all your problems for you.”

Jason rolls his eyes, stepping into the side kitchen and popping open the freezer door of the fridge.

“Dickiebird can’t even solve his own problems,” he says as he rummages. “But maybe when I’m fucked up enough to let three nobodies robbing a fucking bodega get the jump on me, that’s a sign that, maybe, it might be time to call in the cavalry. Dick isn’t the only person who’s got your back.” He presses an ice pack to Tim’s face until he takes it himself, and keeps steering him through the apartment. “Just saying.”

Tim would protest with all of his very good reasons why Jason is definitely wrong here, but he’s too busy processing the fact that Jason has led him into a bedroom. With a bed. There’s a bed, with a mattress and pillows and blankets. Right there. Tim stares at it with lustful eyes.

Jason catches him staring. He rolls his eyes, but he’s sporting a small smile that Tim has the presence of mind to memorize. He walks over to a dresser and pulls out a big shirt and a pair of shorts that he hands to Tim.

“Look. If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here. No guarantees I’ll be always around, but, yeah. Mi casa es su casa, or whatever.”

Tim eyes him up, clutching the bundle of Jason-smelling fabric in his hands. “And you’d do that for me because…why, exactly?”

Jason flicks his forehead, a stinging reprimand. Tim hisses.

“Because, dumbass, you need help and I feel like it. And you don’t actually suck to be around, so shut up and be grateful.”

“Oh, yes,” Tim deadpans, rubbing at his forehead. “So grateful to be allowed the privilege of squatting with you.”

The thing of it is, Tim is grateful. But Jason doesn’t need to know that.

Jason squawks, and before Tim can duck, he’s snatched Tim around the neck in a headlock. His arm is thick and doesn’t budge no matter how Tim shoves and kicks. The ice pack and the clothes go flying, and Tim just about dies. Jason is warm.

“Jason—!”

“Brat!” Jason crows, not giving an inch. “I paid for this place fair and square— you’re the only squatter here!”

“Blood money doesn’t count as square!”

“Tell that to half of Gotham, kid.”

“I’m trying to, thanks for noticing,” Tim says, finally wrenching himself free of Jason’s grip, stumbling into the bed and giving into its siren song. He sits down heavily on the edge, toppling over sideways and reaching pathetically for the fallen ice pack that’s just out of his reach.

“And don’t call me kid—” he complains, muffled by the pillow. It also smells like Jason. “You’re barely two years older than me.”

The cold ice pack is pressed into his fingers. He cracks an eye open to look, but Jason is just smirking at him, like he’s giving Tim the win. Ass.

“Coulda fooled me, shortstack.”

Tim rolls his eyes, and onto his back, toeing off his shoes and letting them clatter to the floor. He can’t tell if Jason’s bed is the best bed in the world, or if he’s just deliriously inventing things.

Frankly, Jason Todd’s bed is the last place he ever thought he’d end up, this morning or otherwise, so he’s never bothered to speculate. He does not have a contingency plan for this.

“Is there a reason you keep calling me short,” he complains, “Or will I just need to fill in the blanks myself?”

“Can’t help it. You’re just so small,” Jason coos. Tim props himself up on an elbow at that, raising a disgusted eyebrow.

“You don’t hear me constantly talking about how big you are.” 

Jason grins like he just won the lottery; Tim shuts his eyes the second it’s out of his mouth.

“Baby, you don’t know how big I am.”

He does, actually. Not in a creepy stalker way, just— there was this one time. A big rogue breakout at Arkham, all-hands on deck type of situation; Tim, Cass, and Jason were covering Poison Ivy in the park. Acid-spitting pitcher plants were involved.

And look, Jason’s tactical gear is fine in the day to day, but it’s not like any of them had time to prep a neutralizing agent, so when Jason needed his pants off, stat…uh. Well. Tim was right there.

He knows, okay?

“Alright,” he rallies, trying desperately not to replay the memory of Jason adjusting himself through his boxers. All of himself. “I walked right into that one.”

“Oh, trust me. You’ll know if you’ve walked into it.”

Tim scoffs, but he can feel how red his face is.

And the thing is. He says it without really meaning to. 

But he still means it.

“You gonna put your money where your mouth is, big guy?”

The change is immediate. Jason had been halfway out the door, but now he turns to Tim, giving him his full, undivided attention. He looks at Tim, laid out in Jason's bed, giving him a very slow once over. The scrutiny is at once nerve-wracking and thrilling.

“Thought you didn’t want my money,” Jason murmurs.

The temperature in the room spikes. If it weren’t for the slow throb of his bruised cheek, Tim would think that he’s already asleep and dreaming.

But he isn’t. He’s very much aware that he’s wide awake.

Tim swallows. “Well. It’s not your money I want.”

Jason’s grin is electric. 

He stalks over to the bed, and Tim is frozen like a rabbit, waiting to see what he’ll do next. Jason settles a knee on the sheets between Tim’s legs, looming over Tim and boxing him in against the mattress. Tim’s free hand reaches up of its own accord to tangle in the collar of Jason’s hoodie, and the cotton is softer than he expected.

Jason’s eyes rove over his face, dark and heavy. He catches Tim’s face in his hand, swiping his thumb lightly across the bruising hot ache of his cheekbone. He leans in deliberate and slow and—

—and stops about an inch away from Tim’s mouth.

“Get some sleep, babybird,” Jason teases, his breath puffing gently over the skin of Tim’s lips. “You can proposition me again tomorrow.”

“It’s, like, 3:30 in the afternoon,” Tim argues, breathless.

“Yeah, and your body thinks it’s 3:30 in the morning. You’re dead on your feet. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, and go the fuck to sleep.”

Jason moves to rise. But Tim hooks a stubborn arm around his neck and pulls him down that last remaining inch. 

The kiss is— bad. At first. 

Tim basically smashed their mouths together to prove a point, and Jason muffles a surprised sound against Tim’s teeth. He lands heavily on top of Tim at an awkward angle, and he’s kind of crushing him. Tim refuses to let go, but— Jason doesn’t pull away.

Jason gentles the kiss instead, and Tim thrills. He levers himself up onto his elbow, wrapping an anchoring arm around Tim’s back. He finds a home between Tim’s legs, and he lets Tim kiss him until Tim's lips are tingling and his fingers go slack; until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore.

Somewhere between fifteen minutes and a small eternity later, Jason presses one more kiss to the corner of his mouth. He curls around Tim on his side, and Tim turns his face into Jason’s neck with a soft wondering sigh.

“I’ll keep it. Promise. Wait n’ see,” Tim mumbles. Jason snorts, but doesn’t budge, and Tim can hear his smile in his voice, lilted and lulling.

“Sure, babybird. I’ll wait. I got nowhere else to be.”

Tim is already asleep.