#and of course the classes I took never mentioned that his ideas are wrong or that they were informed by his racism and xenophobia!!

[snugstones]

The fact that “tragedy of the commons” is still widely taught and discussed in introductory environmental science classes is… a choice.

#ignoring the fact that the guy who came up with it is blatantly incorrect (see ostrom’s work) #but the guy was not shy about being a massive racist and xenophobe #and of course the classes I took never mentioned that his ideas are wrong or that they were informed by his racism and xenophobia!! #why is it still taught?? #anyway fuck garrett hardin #the amount of racism/classism/etc. in environmental movements is awful #❀.txt #env

[silly-putty-sirius]

Cramps (Poly!Marauders x Reader)

Pairing: Poly! Marauders x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of periods, cramps, migraines, and puking

Summary: Y/N wakes up with the rude awakening of her period and after struggling through her entire day she finds comfort in her boys who know exactly what to do.

A/N: This is not my first fanfiction or even Marauders fanfiction but I decided to make a blog specifically dedicated to them so I hope y’all like it <3

Today completely and utterly sucked. After waking up without any of your boyfriends arms around you and venturing to the bathroom and realizing you’d started your period in the night you knew it would suck. You cleaned up before changing the sheets in James’ bed and getting ready for class, which you dreaded twice as much as usual. At least it was potions which you quite enjoyed.

Immediately after potions you had a terrible migraine and that mixed with your never ending cramps forced you to run to the bathroom, puking up all of the breakfast you didn’t even eat. After emptying your stomach you dragged to your next class, herbology but the cycle continued all day with your migraine and cramps only intensifying. You didn’t even want to go to dinner by the time you were done with class but figuring your boys would worry and you probably did desperately need to at least try to eat you begrudgingly made your way to the great hall. After sitting down the boys immediately knew something was wrong judging by the way you grabbed your stomach and put your head into Sirius’ chest shielding your eyes.

“Hey pup, what’s wrong?” Sirius said gently and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and head to helped further shield you, having a pretty good idea whats going on already.

“Stupid period”

“Aww I’m sorry darling, after dinner we can go cuddle and I’ll get you a heat pack,” James spoke from the other side of you, now moving one of his large hands that radiated warmth to your stomach to lightly rub on it in an attempt to help sooth your pain.

“Thanks Jamie, where’s Remmie?” you questioned as you looked up and realized your other boyfriend was missing.

“He’ll be here in just a moment princess, just had to go to the bathroom,” James explained now fixing a plate for you with his unoccupied hand as Sirius was placing kisses to your hairline as you’d buried your head again the lights being to much.

At that moment Remus finally walked in, immediately noticing your state as he shot a concerned look at the other boys who just mouthed to him what was happening so they wouldn’t disturb you to much. At that Remus pulled out a chocolate bar from his bag and walked over to you kissing you on the cheek with some struggle and silently placing the candy in your lap, chuckling at how you lit up slightly at the sight of it.

“Thanks, Remmie.”

“Of course my love,” he spoke placing a kiss to your now visible lips.

You took a few sips of water while nibbling at the fruit James had placed onto your plate and the chocolate bar from Remus feeling slightly more relaxed as Sirius’ hand had replaced James’ so he could eat and was rubbing soft circle on your stomach. After everyone had finished their dinner the boys stood, waiting for you to do so knowing that your stomach hurt when you stood. You slowly did, but immediately regretted it as pain burned through you making you nauseous as you ran to the bathroom for what felt like the hundredth time today. As you emerged you were greeted by three very concerned boys, Sirius having his arms out for you knowing you would get sick again if you had to walk to the dorm. You gladly accepted and allowed Sirius to pick you up, placing one arm under your thighs and the other across your back as you ventured to the boys dorm.

You’d fallen asleep at some point on your walk, only waking when Sirius set you on the bed and Remus started to change you into more comfortable clothes. You went to the bathroom after allowing Remus to finish changing you once he insisted you not do it yourself, quickly cleaning up and brushing your teeth. Once you were back in the room you claim bed onto Sirius lap, allowing him to rub your stomach again as he placed soft kisses all over your face. Remus walked over to you with a glass of water that you gladly accepted as James walked into the room with a heating pad and tea for all of you. You curled up on Sirius’ lap, James to the left with his head resting on Sirius’ shoulder and his fingers rubbing your arm gently, and Remus to the left slowly rubbing your thigh while reading out loud to you all taking a break every once in a while to place a kiss onto the three of yours heads. And that’s how you spent your night, listening to Remus’ soft voice and sipping tea as Sirius’ hands helped to dull the pain in your stomach and James placed soft kisses all over you until finally you all drifted off.

#marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #poly!marauders #fluff #remus being remus #marauders x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #poly!marauders x reader #tooth rotting fluff #harry potter

[hanjsquokka]

Better Than The Books - [ Han Jisung ]

📚 SYNOPSIS : Growing up, you were a sucker for romance. The thought of finding the one was your dream since you were kid. You were searching for true love in the wrong places because the only one you needed was right next to you.

GENRE : romcom, fake dating, best friends to lovers, idiots in love, college au, fluff, smut, slight angst

PAIRING : han jisung × fem!reader

CONTENT WARNING : will contain swearing, mature content such as drinking, smut (probably?), and a mean minho (but i love him very much so no hate <3)

minors dni. if you click read, you agree to nsfw content

RULE NO. 1 - make minho jealous : You thought you found love when you dated Lee Minho — the resident bad boy of your college. He dropped you off at your classes on his motorcycle, took you out for late night rides and gave you flowers. But you were just another girl for him. He broke your heart, leaving your one and only best friend Han Jisung to pick up the pieces. You wanted to get back at your ex-boyfriend for playing with you like that. How? You fake date your best friend of course.

WORD COUNT : 2.5K

TAGLIST : @raeinydays @moon0fthenight @skzstaykatsy @imsiriuslyreal @rockstrhanji @bbokari711 @cupidcures @chans-muffin @adestayskz @hyperpixie

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The neon lights were almost blinding as music vibrated throughout the club. Hot, sweaty people moving to the beats as they danced all around. The air smelled of beer. Your own shot glass of vodka was in your hands as you swayed to the music. The adrenaline still hadn't worn off from the performance that ended a few moments ago. The boys were done, as far as you knew, so he'd be here any second. It was like he did it on purpose, flaunting those dark curls — a hairstyle you mentioned might look good on him. You hadn't expected for him to actually sport it at his band's first performance in a club off campus. Paired with that black shirt and those chains and rings — all train of thought left you as you downed your nth shot of vodka.

Maybe it was because of the alcohol coursing through your system, you thought it was him who was walking towards you with that lustful gaze. Jisung wrapped his hands low around your waist and pulled you closer. “How was I?” His voice was deep and seductive. His fingertips sent sparks of electricity wherever he touched you.

His mere presence sobered you up almost instantly, that faint buzz in your brain going away. “Amazing. As always. I like your hair.” Your hands went up to touch the dark locks. Blurred lines of friendship, but who cared? Maybe the rational part of you did, wondering if this was all a game or not. It was you who started it, but Han Jisung hated losing. He was going to make sure he was victorious and he was going to make sure he enjoyed teasing you along the way.

“Someone mentioned I might look good in them.” A smirk played on his lips as you met his eyes again. You could stare at him for ages and never get bored. His honeyed skin. His big brown eyes. That heart shaped smile. Rules were flying out the window as you felt a magnetic pull from him, drawing you closer. He was like a siren and you were his prey, his alluring voice being the only thing he needed to lure you into his trap. You felt like you were thirteen again, realizing that you have fallen for your own best friend. Even though it's been a decade since then, the feelings were still fresh. And now… all you had to do was close the distance. “Y/n…” He murmured. His lips were so close. “I'm sorry —”

Two weeks earlier

Of all days, today was the day your alarm decided to betray you. Final exams were coming up and your professor told the class he'd be taking a special lecture to cover everything on the syllabus — but your alarm just chose to not ring and you ended up missing the entire 10AM class.

Okay, maybe it wasn't a good idea to stay up reading romance novels after you finished studying but in your defense, you've had a rough week. You thought you found love when you dated Lee Minho — the resident bad boy of your college. He dropped you off at your classes on his motorcycle, took you out for late night rides and gave you flowers. But you were just another girl for him. He broke your heart exactly three months after he made it official. At the café where you went on your first date with him.

In his words, I'm sorry Y/n but you're just not it for me and I met this other girl I really liked.

Dick move, Lee Minho.

You went through the five stages of depression in the span of three days only to wind up at stage two again — anger. It infuriated you to know that Minho did not, not only to you, but so many other girls. Your friends warned you about him being a player. But your naive self thought you could change him.

Bullshit.

The past day and a half, you were only thinking about one thing — how to get back at him. How do you show him that he is just another guy and that you could do so much better. You ended up reading. Reading calmed you down and gave you a peace of mind. At least that's what you told yourself every time you picked up a book. Last night, you read Better Than The Movies at two in the morning, fueled only by Red Bull and the need to know if Liz and Wes kissed or not.

Romance novels were your thing. It was what bonded you and your mother before she passed away. She read fairytales about a princess finding her prince and living happily ever after, away from evil stepmothers and wicked witches because true love triumphed over all right? You've always believed in the concept of love and soulmates. You believe that the one for you was out there, waiting to be found.

You thought it was Minho until he ended up as an asshole.

“Matcha frappuccino for the lady.” Jisung set down a coffee cup with your favorite Starbucks drink, instantly brightening up your mood. You picked it up and gulped down quite a bit of the cold drink. Jisung chuckled, setting down his baseball hat and running his hand through his hair. “I just blew half my wallet on that and you finished it in less than a minute.”

“Very funny. I just love coffee. Especially this very specific coffee.”

“Because it's expensive?”

“Because I only get to have it when someone buys it for me cause I am broke and I cannot afford this.” Jisung rolled his eyes to your response. Your best friend had been unusually kind this week — you figured it was the whole Minho thing. He was well acquainted with your ex-boyfriend because his band mates from 3RACHA were in the same class as him and they were his friends. You've known Jisung for longer than you can remember. It was like you two were destined to be friends. Your parents were friends which ended up in you two becoming friends. You were also, coincidentally, born only a day apart and lived right next door to each other.

He was the one constant thing in your life. He was there when you fell down a slide and scratched you knee. He was there when you first learned how to ride a bike. He was there when your mom died. He was there when your dad married another lady. You didn't hate your stepmother, no, she was actually a nice person. But Jisung was there during every cross road you had in life. You were practically joined at the hip and you knew everything about each other. Your bond ran so much deeper than it seemed.

Of course you had a silly little crush on him when you were twelve but that crush soon died when he go his first girlfriend and then another and as the years went by, that crush dulled out. You were happy with him being your best friend.

“Earth to Y/n?” Jisung waved his hand in front of your face. You blinked out of your little daydream and focused back on him. “This is why you're not supposed to stay up so late studying.”

“Fun fact, I wasn't studying.”

He groaned. “Reading? Really?” He ran his hands through his dark hair. “Which book?”

“Better than the movies.”

“Ah, that one with the romance obsessed girl? What was her name… Linda — no, Liz! Yeah, Liz. I can see why you like it.”

You looked at him quizzically. Han Jisung didn't like romance novels so he certainly didn't read them. At least that's what he told you. Never in your whole life have you seen him read anything other than manga. Half of his ego was because of his abnormally large collection of manga and anime. “How do you know the main character's name?”

“You were literally texting me about the book yesterday.”

“Oh yeah.” You still didn't remember texting him, but then again you probably did and you forgot because lately you seemed to have the memory of a goldfish.

“I think you should dial down on the caffeine.”

“Would you rather me drinking beer?”

“Oh god no. You're a nightmare when you're drunk.” Jisung laughed, which made you laugh too. He had a way of distracting you from whatever you were thinking about — in a good way. He didn't want you to get too into your own head, especially with what happened with Minho.

Your expression fell as soon as you thought about the boy. You just couldn't stop thinking about it. What did you do that made him uninterested? Where did you go wrong? Was it the lame jokes you made? Or how you dropped by his class every now and then so you could go somewhere for lunch?

Minho was a reserved person. To everyone else, he was a cold, yandere-type guy who was a player. To you, well, he was someone you loved dearly. Loved. Past tense. You hated him now. You hated him since the moment you saw him with another girl right in front of you. The same girl he told you not to worry about. So ironic, you mentally scoffed.

Two can play that game.

“Holy shit, you're actually insane.” That was Han Jisung's first reaction to your crazy idea. He started to pace around his apartment while you sat on the couch. “Don't just sit there and act like you haven't dropped a bomb on me!”

“It's a good idea.” You replied nonchalantly.

“Good idea? Good idea? Y/n, for the love of all things holy- the only way to describe your idea is insane. It's insanity. It's right up there with robbing a bank. Actually, robbing a bank would be easier.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “I need a drink.” He went to his fridge and took out a bottle of tequila and a small glass. After downing the cup, he turned back to you. “Let me get this straight, you want to fake date me — your best friend of the past twenty three years of our existence — just to get back at your ex-boyfriend? To make him jealous?”

“Yes.” You nodded.

“You want me to kiss you and hug you and go on dates with you?”

“Fake dates.” You clarified.

“Oh right, sorry. Fake dates.” He said sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he went back to pacing.

“And no kissing unless absolutely necessary.”

“Of course.” He massaged his temples before he turned around and walked towards where you were sitting. “Y/n. I ask this with pure love.” He crouched down right in front of you with the most concerned expression you've ever seen him in, placing his hands on your cheeks so you could look him straight in the eyes. “Have you lost your shit?”

Only Jisung could say something like that with an expression like that. You stood up from the couch and face him while crossing your arms. Jisung stood up as well, his hands in his hoodie pockets. “You're making this such a big deal. Everything is gonna be the same. It's just the both of us hanging out. We'll go to fun cafés or that amusement park you've been wanting to go to —”

“It's not a big deal for you.” He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes for a second before focusing on you again. You could tell there was so much more than he was letting on. He ran his hands through his hair and squatted to the ground with a loud groan. “You know I can't say no to you. Why are you doing this to me?”

“Two weeks. I promise. Two weeks and this is done and we can go back to being friends.” You said, trying to hide how desperate you were. “Please, Jisung.”

Usually, you could read your best friend like an open book. He was very expressive with his face and could barely hide whatever he was thinking of at that moment. But as the years went by, you could see he'd mastered the art of concealing his true feelings. Even now, you couldn't decipher what he was thinking behind those brown eyes as they became unfocused. “Why me? Why not… someone else you know?”

“Minho is not going to give a shit unless it's you. You're my best friend. You're the one guy I told him he would never have to worry about. Just like how he told me that she was just a friend. Just a friend, my fucking ass.” Your throat burned as you took a sharp inhale. “So are you going to help me or not?”

“I'll help you.” He said after a beat. He placed both his hands on the back of his neck and stared up at the ceiling. “I'll help you get your revenge.” He looked back at you. “But you have to promise me that we're going to be okay. I'm not risking my friendship over some dipshit.”

“We'll be fine. I promise.”

“You're confident.”

“Of course I am. What could go wrong?”

There was a flicker in his eyes and they darkened as he strode towards you, leaning down so you were eye to eye. He was so close, you could smell the cologne you bought him for Christmas. “Promise me you'll still be my friend, no matter what happens. Promise me you'll never hate me. Promise me… that this is all pretend.” You swallowed thickly and nodded. The words were stuck in your throat the second he came into such close proximity to you in such a… sensual way.

This was not the Han Jisung you knew. The shy, playful boy you've hung out with all your life. This was the Han Jisung your friends rave about. The Jisung from 3RACHA, the youngest in their little trio, one of the hottest boys on campus (your friend's words, not yours). You knew he wasn't a virgin by all means. He had his fair share of girlfriends and one night stands. But he was decent about it. You never understood why he kept breaking up with people, but you knew he wasn't someone like Minho. He wasn't dating for the thrill. But now… You didn't know what to think.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” He questioned, not moving a muscle. You were so close, you could feel his breath on your face and the minty smell from the gum he was chewing. Could you handle this? It was like he threw a lit matchstick onto kerosene. An old dull flame sparked inside you. A feeling you'd tucked away into the farthest part of your heart because you knew that Han Jisung was unattainable. He was your best friend. But with this new idea, you weren't sure how far you could blur the lines before friendship turned into something far more dangerous?

AUTHOR'S NOTE : I was so excited while writing this and I wanted it to be perfect, you know? So I rewrote the scenes multiple times. Let me know what you guys think <3

©hanjsquokka | copying, translating or republishing my work is strictly prohibited

#han jisung #han jisung stray kids #han jisung x reader #han imagines #han x you #skz #stray kids #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz scenarios #han jisung fluff #han jisung imagines #han jisung angst #han jisung x y/n #han jisung x you #stray kids han #han skz #( 🎤 ⸻ my works / han jisung )

[jinkookspencil]

superstar | jjk

you, the quiet, lonely achiever, get paired up with the superstar new student at your university for a group project... and he needs all the help he can get

description/tw/tags: ~7.1k words / jungkook x chubby (f) reader / one-shot / fluff with a tiny dash of angst / strangers to friends to lovers / university AU / this is a request, submitted by the lovely @cat123jkbunny / i hope you (all) like it! / fatphobia (details: y/n is insecure and quiet and she gets bullied for her body and is made fun of for it, with someone insinuating she isn't good enough because of her body. There is also a scene where she feels like she is ashamed to eat in a crowded place but jk helps her out of that) / clean except for kissing and swearing / this is for my fellow curvy/chubby/plus girlies, you are all beautiful and i am always here for you and i hope you like this / feedback is always welcome and it's appreciated! note: i have 2 half-written drabbles (AND even some more ideas) that emerged from this fic request, with the same couple! If you guys like this and want to see those - let me know!

┅ ┅ ┅ ┅

Please not Jeon Jungkook. Please God, not Jeon Jungkook. Anyone…. anyone but…

“….Jeon Jungkook.”

Damn it.

His name echoed throughout the gigantic lecture hall and in your skull. Out of every student in your class, did it really have to be him? The one paired assignment you had in your course had to be with Jeon Jungkook. As your professor called out the pairs… there seemed to be no one left but the two of you and the final pair, who were always together, his best friends Taehyung and Jimin. You’d gladly work with either of them instead, or anyone really….

There was nothing wrong with Jeon Jungkook… nothing at all. That was what was so bewildering about your university's superstar. Jeon Jungkook was the school's…. everything. Enigmatically the star athlete, a featured artist, a Dean’s List candidate, and even a band member on the weekends, apparently.  He was the student that transferred to your prestigious university - absolutely unheard of - simply because the faculty were that impressed by him. With a reputation like that, it wasn’t long before everyone knew his name and face and was captivated by him immediately. Even the professors took a liking to him straight away - you’d grown tired of hearing them mention his name during office hours while they seemed to be getting tired of you. Every girl and guy on campus fawned over him - within good reason, you had to admit, considering his reputation and easy-on-the-eyes appearance… though you'd never stare his way for too long. The point remained:

If you went unseen, Jeon Jungkook was seen.

Being paired with him meant that whether you liked it or not, you would be in the spotlight in some way. No matter what - you’d have to talk to him, for God’s sake. You think to bolt out of the hall, find his email address, and just send him a breakdown of your responsibilities for the assignment or even an offer to do all the work yourself. You’d hate to, but if it meant interacting with Jeon Jungkook as little as possible and remaining unseen, you’d do it - what’s a few all-nighters and extra work when faced with the humiliation of talking to the school’s most popular person?

“Y/N?”

Shit.

People hardly called you by your name at university - your one friend had already graduated, so just being called would’ve startled you enough… let alone having heard it from such a hushed, singsong voice. Turning around, you see the enigmatic man standing right above you. Everything made sense in an instant. The love, seeing his kind smile. The admiration, seeing his muscles. The crushes and rumored weekly love letters he received, seeing… him.

“Hi, Y/N. I’m Jungkook,” he says, gesturing towards himself as if you’d never seen him or heard of him. “I don’t know if you know me, I sit all the way in the back? With Taehyung and Jimin?”

“Hi, I know who you are, Jungkook,” you mumble.

“Oh, cool,” he says, still smiling. “I guess we’re together! For the assignment, I mean...”

“Yeah, I guess so. You don’t really have to worry about a thing, though. I can just send you an email later breaking down what each of us should do, or I can just do it all by myself, and we’ll-”

“Oh. No,” he says, quietly interrupting you. “I… can’t have that. I don’t think that’ll work.”

You felt whatever polite expression was on your face fade at that moment… What did he mean by ‘no’?

“I want to actually work on this… I want to work on it together… please.”

You had no idea what to think at that moment, only replaying his quiet, hushed ‘please’ over and over again as he stood beside you, fiddling with his earrings.

“Jungkook, I can take care of it. You really don’t have to…,” you start, but he interrupts you again, shaking his head and sitting down beside you in the now almost empty classroom.

“No, Y/N. I..,” he starts in a hushed tone. “I’m really falling behind in this class and we have the exam coming up…. It’s not just that, it all seems so interesting it’s just that my stupid brain can’t comprehend much of it.”

Jeon Jungkook? Falling behind? Admitting to an unknown fact? Call himself ‘stupid’? Sitting in front of you, he’d finally been looking at you, his wide eyes lowered since the moment he’d approached. It was eerie too see, a look behind the curtain into the life of your community’s local celebrity when you’d been nothing but just another spectator.

“Look, I always want to do things on my own too, so I get where you're coming from...” he continues, “…and that must mean you can try to understand how desperate I am here. It’s hard to ask for help, but… I need it. I’m not lazy, I promise. I need actual… help... please.”

So that’s why.

The shock faded away in an instant. If there was one thing you might've been known for at university, it would definitely have been your grades. Strangers came and went, looking for “the fat girl at the top of the class," as a couple of students kindly called you, never bothering to ask your name. They never got consideration back or even a glance in their direction, let alone your work when they dared to ask to copy it…. but… Jeon Jungkook asked for help. Not to copy the homework, get basic instructions, or an "in" with certain professors. But help. And for the chance to work on it together.

A refusal rested at the tip of your tongue, even then, but that quiet ‘please’ was still on a loop in your mind…

How could you say no?

“Okay..”

“Yes! Good! Great, okay,” Jungkook says enthusiastically. Did he always have a wife, bunny-toothed smile? It was adorable. “Can we meet at the library tomorrow?”

“…Sure, Jungkook.”

“Perfect. Get ready, Y/N. I have a lot of questions. Oh, wait, first of all - what was that song you were humming on your way out of class yesterday?”

┅ ┅ ┅ ┅

You suspected it would be the one study session to get Jungkook up to speed and lay out the work for the assignment. But the one session turned into two, which turned into three, and before you knew it, you and Jungkook would be meeting at the library every single day.

It was… overwhelming to say the least. The workload, definitely, as well as the added time spent teaching him but on top of that… the stares and whispers nearly set you off when other students, even his own friends, Taehyung and Jimin, would murmur ineligible words when they'd spot you together in the library. It didn't slip past you that it definitely must’ve been a weird sight, the Jeon Jungkook sitting next to a nobody like you...  but when you were actually with him, the world around you faded away. All that mattered was the material you knew by heart and the boy who needed to learn it. And boy, did he need to.

After an hour of explaining the material to him one day, he’d continued to stare at you blankly. “Jungkook…. Are you even listening to me?” you resigned multiple times, realizing he had a tendency to space out at random points throughout the day. It was enough to almost tempt you to ghost him and just present him with a finished assignment or a detailed lesson plan.... but when he snapped out of it, he always hit you with an adorable, child-like pout and that irresistible plea: “Can you explain it to me again, please?”

So, you resisted the urge you felt before and after study sessions, to neglect him and stop the meetings altogether. In truth, you could’ve. Jungkook would do well enough to pass... but you couldn't accept him achieving the bare minimum. "I'm trying to steal your crown," he joked on day two, proving one of the many things you and everyone else had heard about Jeon Jungkook.

Finding out something new about Jungkook was to turn the page on the most fascinating book you'd ever read with limitless pages, for it seemed as though he and his talents could be described as such. It - he - was awe-inspiring, new, and enticing in the best of ways. And at times, it felt like it was only yours to hold, for you were the person discovering aspects to him, hardly believing it been you realizing it yourself, up close and personal.

He was definitely a competitive one, that, everyone knew - but you’d realized it went far beyond sports - aiming to rival you and fellow Dean's List candidate Kim Namjoon for the valedictorian spot despite admitting he'd still be behind if he tried his hardest, just thankful to have some worthy competitors. It proved that it was real ambition that Jungkook had in him. In contrast to the rumors that he never really cared about his studies, you saw just how clever and curious he'd been, in addition to his dedication in showing up every day, even when he didn't need to. He loved everything he did and never limited himself, whereas you’d been studying as much as you could in your field only to further advance in your comfort zone of academia. When you'd revealed this to him, he, ever the competitive one, expressed his jealousy at the stability ahead of you, helping ease the countless worries you'd had about your own future.

And, you’d discovered the fact that he’s, surprisingly for an artist and musician, more in his element when it came to logic, numbers, and science - with spreadsheets, calculations, and graphs just to keep track of your progress on the assignment, though he skewed the numbers to work on the assignment further. It frustrated him most as he struggles with words, essays, and theoretical concepts, which never made sense to you, considering he felt so much and made you feel so much in return. It was never stress or anger, even on the hardest of days - he had a surprisingly relaxed attitude for such an accomplished athlete. Rather, he expressed patience and envy when you'd been teaching him, and what got you most - his awe at the subject matter… even though he zoned out often. His eyes lit up whenever he started to understand something… you could swear you almost saw stars in his pupils whenever something evidently clicked inside his brain. And every time it did, every time you felt that damned butterfly in your stomach whenever he smiled… only to leave the study session to see daggers in your direction… you had to remind yourself - you were just here to help him.

He was Jeon Jungkook, for crying out loud. You were just another person who started to like him, as everyone does.

You had to remind yourself that his eyes were ordinary, brown eyes - no matter how big and starry they'd looked on certain nights. That though you’d gotten used to the way his soapy scent blended with that of the books around you, the familiarity of the books’ sweetness on its own was just as lovely. That people were looking. That he asked to study, not to get to know you. And that he had his pick of anyone he wanted in the entire university and beyond... there's no reason he'd want to spend time with you for longer than he had to and for more than you had been spending already. Your mental reminders only worked that hard when you had work to do.

For the first time in your life, you felt like a fool. For laughing at his every joke. For continuing to study with him and not putting an end to it the first time your heart fluttered. For not stopping the crush that you had on Jeon Jungkook. Though you felt like one, you never acted like a fool in front of him - at least, you didn’t think so, holding onto that paper-thin hope to at least ground you in some way. It was just as easy to remember that the sheer impossibility of anything happening, plus the actual studying, were at the forefront. It was hard to kill the butterflies, though. They returned every day, whenever you’d bounce off one another in explanation and conversation, drifting off-topic and sometimes getting personal, when he joked around and tried to convince you that university isn’t actually the end of the world… or even when you simply sat working together in comfortable silence.

That was exactly how it was on a regular Thursday afternoon. Tucked away in your corner of the library, you and Jungkook worked away peacefully when a student you’d never seen walked up to Jungkook. A regular occurrence, seeing as he was so popular.

“Hey, Kookie,” you hear, your eyes still fixated on your screen.

“Hey, Jia,” he replies. You can’t tell if he looked up at her or not. Did he? What did his eyes say? Fuck, why should you care?

“Hey, what… what are you doing?” she says with a giggle. If your peripheral sight was to be trusted, she placed her hand on his shoulder. You shouldn’t care, but resist a smile when he shoves it away. “You’re here every day, Jungkookie. Aren’t you bored? Like… what are you doing?”

“I’m working,” he replies.

“What about her?”

Glancing at her direction, you could see it on her - Jia's - face that she definitely didn’t know your name, and you knew the stares you got well enough to know the look on her face was one of confusion or, dare you say it, disgust. Jungkook's eyes flickered down from you, before returning to his notes.

“Y/N and I have that assignment together,” he replies, “the final project for Mr. P’s class before the exam.”

“Ohhhhhh,” she says, nodding in realization. “Okay, that makes sense then,” she giggles. “See you, Kookie. Call me if you want to have some fun tonight.”

To you, it was clear as day what she meant. That makes sense. In a way, she was right. It was the only possible way Jungkook would be sitting here, with you, every single day. He never would have - wouldn’t have even known you existed - if he hadn’t been paired with you. He made sense with girls like Jia - someone he’d have fun with rather than study with and beautiful in every way society wanted her to be, starting with her model-like body to compliment his built one. That made sense, you reminded yourself.

It must’ve been a good minute since you’d done anything on your computer, so focused on making sure the pesky insects in your stomach were dead, that you barely heard your name being called repeatedly until Jungkook waved his hand in front of your screen.

“HELLO?!”

“What?” you jolt, seeing his crouched head peeking to look at you.

“I was asking if you could throw this. The trash can is next to you.”

Jungkook hands you a piece of paper, unfolded, before sitting down and staring back at his screen, this time with his headphones on. You move to throw the paper out in a hurry, almost missing what was scribbled on it.

Jia’s name and phone number.

┅ ┅ ┅ ┅

Before you knew it, the deadline for the assignment arrived, and you and Jungkook were done. After a particularly long night at the library finalizing the paper, you uploaded the document and he hit the daunting blue button titled ‘submit’.

“YES!” Jungkook cheers from behind you, having looked over your shoulder to submit the paper together. With his head right beside yours with his arm planted on the desk in front of you, the veins you’d never noticed before on full display. Just when you realized it had been too close not to get panicked, he forces your chair to spin and face him, sticking his hand out for a high-five. “We did it!”

“We did,” you sigh, meeting his hand, pushing away the feeling of it in your mind.

“Why on Earth do you look sad?” Jungkook asks. “We should be celebrating! Let’s go get fried chicken!”

“Just thinking of the exam coming up and my other paper,” you half-lie.

How could you tell him you’re already mourning the time you spent together? He shouldn’t catch on, though…

“But I guess you’re right. It is a good thing that we’re done with it.” Really, it was. The delusional thoughts would cease. Might as well say goodbye. “It’s been fun… getting to do this and getting to know you, Jungkook.”

You reach out your hand for a high-five, as he had, but instead of going to meet it, he takes two steps back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You think you’re getting rid of me that easily?” he questions, cocking his brow.

“What?!”

“You said it yourself. We have the exam coming up.”

“Jungkook, you should be fine. You aced that assignment.”

“No, absolutely not.  I want… I need you. Your presence motivates me, and when I’m with you, I feel at ease…. with the material. It’s less scary.” It’s hard to ignore how wide Jungkook’s pupils had gotten as he fidgeted with his lip ring.

“Jungkook, Mr. P's exams are beasts unearthed from the very depths of hell. If I’m being completely honest, I can’t spend all my time teaching you," you say, speaking the truth.

“I’m not even asking for that. Just let me be near or around you. I’ll be quiet and ask minimal questions in the case of an emergency.”

Staring up at him, he had the same pleading and innocent expression on his face when he first approached you after you’d been assigned together. The time you spent together only confirmed that when he bit his lower lip and simultaneously arched his brows inwards and upwards… he was serious and pleading.

“I… might kick you out some days, Jungkook. When I need to focus extra hard.”

“Kick me out, then. Say the word, and I’m gone. And on the flip side, say the word, and I’m there - with anything you need. Like…. iced coffee! I know your order by now. Iced Vanilla Latte with an extra shot of espresso.”

Jungkook retraces his steps, standing right over you. It’s only when his hand reaches out do you realize your arm is upright, your unmet high-five still in the air. His hand meets yours softly, and without a single sound, fingers and palms perfectly aligned. His skin was calloused from his paintbrush and instruments, cushioned against your soft skin, his slender fingers towering over your wide ones… Pulling your hand down, your fingers get caught in his, which slightly curved towards you before your hand slips away.

Taking a deep breath, you notice Jungkook clear his throat. Suddenly, neither of you knew what to do with your hands, but he thinks fast, stuffing them in his pockets before finally looking back at you.

“So, deal?”

“Deal,” you yield, foolishly.

┅ ┅ ┅ ┅

Thank God you were smart as fuck.

Because though Jungkook kept true to his word, it turns out it was extremely hard to focus when your crush was doing one of two things - either quietly sitting beside you in all his glory (with no distractingly helpful responsibility of teaching him) or worse, when he was tending to you. There were the iced coffees, the water intake reminders, the extra highlighters, the space he gave you when he felt you needed it - even checking in with an “I’ll kick myself out for today” on a particularly stressful night before you knew you needed to do it yourself, for some alone time. You rarely wanted it anymore anyways. His questions and interruptions were few, always pleasant, of course, and never took up much of your time. It was worth it, seeing that proud smile of his when he now answered his own questions, just making sure from you that they were actually correct. The butterflies never stopped, especially considering he now sat beside you in the front corner of Mr. P’s lecture hall, abandoning Jimin and Taehyung on the other side of the room... The random, beautiful doodles he adorned your notebook with always made you smile harder whenever you studied - he was there even when he wasn’t.

“I knew you’d still be here,” Jungkook says, walking to your desk in the quiet library. Looking at the clock on your screen, you finally realize the time.

“What can I say?” you sigh. “What are you doing here, Jungkook? Isn't today Jimin's party, or whatever it was?”

“It was, and it might've been the dullest party Jimin ever threw. I know you cruelly rejected my invitation, but honestly... I don't blame you. It was the same old stuff and people and.. here's way more fun," he explained.

"Oh, come on," you reply, rolling your eyes. "Go back to the party, Jungkook. There's no way you think studying is more fun than even the most boring party at Jimin's."

"Hmmm... you're right. I still picked you instead because I missed you." The sentence escapes Jungkook's lips so quickly you didn't have a chance to realize what he'd said before he went on. "I wish you'd come... to give yourself a break. Knowing you'd be here, I decided to come and force you to rest. I also know that you haven’t eaten yet and that we still didn’t celebrate our assignment. We really should celebrate now, anyways.”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t check your email?”

You move to frantically get to your laptop before he blocks you. “No, you’re done for the day. Or at least, the hour - you didn't move all day, and I'm worried. Plus, your eyes are too tired. Should I get eye drops?”

“Jungkook... what score did we get?!”

“Only a 95%,” he shrugs, acting cool and uncaring before finally breaking into a wide smile. “We did it!”

A 95% was among the highest scores you’d ever gotten at university - a mark good enough to ensure you'd be the valedictorian instead of Kim Namjoon, who you’d been in competition with ever since freshman year. Not only that, 95% was a fast track that allowed you to possibly get your work published. Shrieking, you jump up from your chair and into Jungkook’s open arms. Realizing your position in the rush of it all, with your head on his shoulder, his tucked into the crook of your neck, and his hands wrapped around your plush waist… your heart only raced faster, which you didn’t think was possible. You quickly unravel your arms from around his back, and it takes a second longer for him to do the same.

You just hugged Jeon Jungkook. Why was he red? Probably ashamed, wondering if anyone saw him hug you.

“I never thought I'd... hear you scream in the library," he laughs, turning to a paper bag he'd placed on the table when he arrived. "I brought that fried chicken to celebrate. Let’s sit a while. You still need a break from all the screens.”

“I’d love to, but I can’t… eat here.”

“Why not?”

“There are some students around. You, too.”

“So? No one will mind the smell of fried chicken. That couple over there is eating it, too.”

"No, it’s…." you sigh, feeling as though you’re finally exposing some sort of unknown truth to Jungkook, despite the fact that he could obviously see you. "It’ll only make people judge me more. Stare at me more. For eating something like this in public. It’s like I…shouldn’t… with everything I’ve got going on. Like… it’s shameful?”

“But there’s nothing to be ashamed about. Nothing at all.” Jungkook looked just as confused as he’d been when he didn’t understand something in the lesson plan, but suddenly, it shifted to his ‘got it’ state. When he finally knew what to do. “Fuck it. Fuck everyone. Sit. Let’s eat. If anyone dares to look at you…. or, God forbid, say anything... You know I'm on the university's wrestling team, right?"

You nod and laugh because everyone knew, but he goes on. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure the whole university does, so I'd like to see some punk try anything."

He goes silent, shaking his head as he unloads the bag he brought and encouraging you to eat until he'd already finished half the bucket. Hesitantly, you grab a drumstick before finally taking a bite with your eyes fixated on Jungkook the entire time. You’d have avoided his gaze, even turned away, but with his raised brows and a closed-mouth smile, desperately awaiting your review… you knew you had to give him an answer fast, and you do so after the very first bite, shooting him a thumbs up. It was really good - sweet, sour, and spicy all at once. With your second bite and his proud smile, you recall another rumor you’d heard about Jungkook long ago. That he went on a tour of all the fried chicken spots in the city to find the best one. Asking him about it, you didn’t expect to find out that not only was it true, but it was also a life-long, worldwide mission of his - “Forget all the shit I’m talented at, this is my life’s purpose,” he proclaimed, saying that the chicken he'd brought had been his favorite so far. "And I wouldn't get you anything less than the best I’ve found, darling."

You felt your face flush, knowing Jungkook must've called you that jokingly. Still, the pet name sent your mind into overdrive, more than the studying did, as you fed your delusions for a little while. Darling.

You could've sworn you were actually living in your delusions later that night when he dropped you home for the very first time. The conversation never stopped, even until you were standing by your apartment building. "Still gonna study?" he asked, staring at your door.

"Maybe," you replied, knowing you'd be too delusional to do so, and if you tried, you would only end up staring at the words and cursing Jungkook for being too perfect and making you this way.

"Well, do you want to eat ramyeon now?” he’d said with a giggle. Catching you off guard, you nearly choked on air at the double entendre coming from him, but rolled your eyes and answered with a simple “Yes” instead, only for his smile to fade quickly.

Your fat ass should not be making jokes like that when you knew damn well you wouldn’t have shot. Especially not after dinner.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Jungkook," you hurriedly say, attempting to dash inside, only for your jacket to get caught on the way in. Looking down, you realize it hadn't been the knob that stopped it but rather Jungkook's fingers, clutching onto the fabric before letting it slip away. "Sorry. Goodnight."

┅ ┅ ┅ ┅

The moment kept replaying in your head, buried in your hands on the desk, agonizing over the humiliation as a break from agonizing over the workload. You had time to agonize today, Jungkook wasn’t there yet. If he saw you like that, he’d nudge you to get out of it.

“Hello?”

Jolted by the sudden voice of a woman, you look up to see Jia. “Hi,” you say, too awkwardly even for you. “Can I help you with something? Jungkook’s not here if you’re looking for him.”

“I can see that,” she scoffs. “I came to talk to you.” In all this time, your first run-in with her had been your only semblance of interaction, though you hadn't ever spoken to each other.

“Oh… Why?”

“What’s going on… between the two of you?”

“Me and... Jungkook? He told you, we had that assignment together….”

“That’s done,” she snaps.

“And now I’m just helping out with his studies.”

“Then why did Nani see him drop you home?”

“We’re… friends, Jia,” you mutter. You’d never called Jungkook that before, a friend, but you can’t help but think it’s fitting to do so... It fit, didn’t it? Weren’t you… friends? At the very least? Or...

“We’re classmates,” you quickly add.

“Friends - that's the funniest shit I've heard. His actual friends, Jimin and Taehyung refuse to tell me anything when he left that party. They were probably concerned and unsettled by it all…. I mean, everyone here can see how much you gush over him, you know? It’s embarrassing. I don’t know how he doesn’t see it and steer clear - especially since you should come with a cattle crossing sign, seriously.”

Was it that obvious?

“We all know he's just using you for that piece of meat between your ears until the exam's over. He's not an idiot, you know? Don’t get carried away thinking anyone outside your league would be interested in you.”

An emptiness grew with the uncovering of a deep fear of yours. Of course. Of course, he was still using you, you idiot... It was just the help he needed. Neither of you could have gotten the 95% on your own... He said he needed the help... the mark... She was right. He wasn't an idiot... but wasn't the Jungkook you knew too kind to use someone like that?

It was then that your phone, lying on the desk, lit up with a message, clear as day for the both of you to read.

[from: jungkook] “i’m on my way to you rn. brought kimbap!! hope you like it. made it myself :) ”

“Pft. He knows how to keep a fat girl on his hook. You fucking whale.”

You fucking fool.

“Heyooooooo!” you hear from a short distance in that familiar singsong voice that tugged at your heartstrings. Jungkook turned a corner and finally appeared from between the shelves. “Kimbap! Wait, what the fuck is wrong?”

Shit. You hadn’t realized tears were streaming down your face. As if you could be any more humiliated. Not even able to glance his way, despite him repeating the question over and over again, mere steps away from you, you stuff your things into your bag and rush out.

The last thing you catch is Jia’s scoff.

┅ ┅ ┅ ┅

Suddenly, avoiding Jungkook was easy. That urge you had long ago, the one in line with you, Jungkook, and the ways of the world…. Your two different worlds.

He’d chased you, easily getting to you and stopping you. Repeating his question again.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you had let out, staring at the ground. You couldn’t talk if you wanted to.

“Are you kidding? What is it? Tell me…” he says quietly, putting his hands on your shoulders. You shake them off in an instant, walking away, only for him to follow close behind. “What is it? You’re not okay.”

“It’s… stress.”

“Bullshit - I’ve obviously seen you stressed. This isn’t it. I’ve never seen-”

“Jungkook, I’m kicking you out. Keep your word that you’ll stay out,” you snap, finally turning to look at him in the crowded library. If he’d never seen you this way, you’d never seen him that way either. Hurt. You can’t see why. He got what he wanted out of you, plus you’d told him you’d kick him out….

If only it was easy to keep him out. Jungkook had always listened when it came to the material, but it was as if he never knew how to in any other regard. His texts and calls over the weekend went ignored until you finally mustered up the courage to block him. You thought that would be that - Jungkook would go back to his world, and you’d go back to yours - but on your first day back, you find him sitting on the floor at the door to the library at the crack of dawn.

You’d specifically gone that early to avoid Jungkook - who always showed up during the late afternoons or evenings after having just woken up then on his off days. Yet here he was, sitting cross-legged by the glass door you’d walked into together countless times, glancing at the handful of other students with exams and deadlines as they walked in, out, and around him. Even from a distance away, you could see how wide his doe-eyes were. And he jumps up the moment he spots you slowly approaching the door.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” you ask quietly, trying to avoid his gaze.

“You say that as if you don't practically live in the library," he says, almost amused. "If you mean how I knew you'd be here so early - I took a chance. I would’ve waited all day until I saw you… All week, if that's what it took. And I probably would've convinced Mr. P to include a note with your exam sheet if you decided you disliked me until then.”

….Shit. Sure, you’d never end up with him, but he only fidgeted with the loose strings on his hoodie when he was really stressed - a sight you'd only seen once after a supposed tough day at wrestling practice. Now, they'd been undone with a hole at the bottom of the thick fabric. Knowing you caused it...

“I’m sorry, Jungkook. I shouldn’t have…”

“Yeah. You shouldn’t have,” he grumbles before shaking his head. “No, you don’t... You don’t owe me anything. You don’t owe me your time… I should’ve stayed “out” like I promised, but… I just want to know if you were okay.”

“I am,” you barely let out. With tears bubbling in your eyes, you walk into the library.

“I don’t believe it,” he says, trailing you.

“I kicked you out, remember? Stay out. Why do you even care?" you say without turning back.

“I care about you!”

When you finally stop to stare at him, Jungkook doesn't allow you to deny him, immediately grabbing your hand and pulling you deep into the library, through the twisty, student-filled desks, between sky-high bookshelves.

“Y/N, I want you to be okay. You don’t owe me an explanation if you don’t want to tell me anything, but… that's all I want. For you to be okay and happy and... you can't lie to me and tell me that you're alright. You can kick me out as much as you want to, I promised I would let you do so, but I'll always be waiting for you right outside that door. If you'll allow me to... I'll always be here for you."

The tears come pouring out, and without a thought, you rush into him, sobbing into his chest. “Hey, hey,” he says, a hand in your hair and the other soothing your back. "I’m here. I told you I'm here.” You missed his embrace. Had assumed you’d never feel it again. You probably won’t, past this point.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, with his arms wrapped firmly around your waist as you stare up at him. “Is it the stress?”

“No, Jungkook…. It’s.. you.”

“Me?!” he says, gesturing towards himself.

“Well, no, actually… I guess it’s me,” you mumble, staring at his hands, now at his sides.

“I don’t understand, Y/N.”

“Jungkook, we need to stop these study sessions. Not for a week but… I’m permanently kicking you out, and I don't know if I have it in me to ever unlock that stupid metaphorical door again.”

“Exile, huh?" To your surprise, he nods. "At least let me know this… Am I that annoying?”

Out of desperation, you almost say yes, but you’ve been cruel enough - Jungkook didn’t deserve any of it.

“No. No, not at all…”

He pauses. “I don't understand, but if this will make you happier, all I can say in this case is… thank you. I don't about my grades as much as you do, so I'm really just thank you for all this time. I…. I liked…. I liked spending this time... spending this time with you,” Jungkook lets out, his voice breaking.

Looking up at him, you see his eyes red. Was he about to cry too?

“It won’t,” you mumble.

“What?” he asks, looking down at you as if he were looking up, teary-eyed and innocent.

You either tell him, or tell him nothing and risk…. other people telling him, along with their own added commentary on how you weren’t good enough. It would be easier just to let that happen... Letting go of him yourself, despite the pain, would be more merciful on you both. So, you do, breaking away from his embrace.

“It won’t make me happier if we stopped.”

“Then why do we have to?”

“Jungkook, we need to stop because… for the first time in my life... I’ve set myself up for failure.”

“You’re the smartest person in the entire university. How on Earth did you set yourself up to fail?”

"Because I did it by stupidly falling for the best person in this entire university. I... like you, Jungkook," you spit out, hiding your face in your hands as soon as the confession leaves your lips.

“How is that setting yourself up for failure?” he sniffs.

You can’t help but notice a shift in his tone as he pulls your hands away from your face and tilts your chin towards him. He looked as serious as he sounded.

“Jungkook, be real.”

He stares at you, confused.

“You’re.... a star. Everyone here knows who you are - you're the best in every field imaginable - sports, art, music, academia, and on top of all of that, you're the sweetest, kindest, smartest - fucking best person I, well, everyone knows. And... look at you and look at me. I make sense of everything in this world, and this doesn’t make sense. Everyone knows it. They already give us weird looks for even sitting together. I know you just needed help, and I was happy to offer it, but I thought I'd be smarter than this. I think you probably offered to be there for me as a friend. I think we're friends, right? Either way, I think I've been an idiot for even thinking of you in that-"

Jungkook's lips meet yours, interrupting your ramble, train of thought, and your breathing with a kiss.

“You think too much," he whispers against your lips, stroking your soft cheek with the back of his index finger. "You can never set yourself up for failure, genius. I like you too.”

“No.... Stop," you say, taking two steps away from him. "Jungkook, you're being mean."

"Mean?!"

It had to have been a prank. Jungkook being so committed onto getting a good grade, once again.

"You can't use me like this. And what, you'll ghost me after the exam? After all the help? Pretend I never existed?"

"You say that and call me 'mean'? Do you really think I'd do that?" he asks, letting out a huff with his eyebrows furrowed. You'd never seen Jungkook.... angry. "I would never. Not to you, or anyone. If that were the case, if I weren't so goddamn in love with you, I'd be standing ashamed, fessing up in front of you instead of feeling so hurt and angry. The girl I like really thinks so low of me?" Taking a deep breath, Jungkook collects himself. "I wouldn't spend a semester with you if that was the case. I don't know why you'd think... that."

"It doesn't make sense, Jungkook...."

“it makes sense to me,” he says, stepping towards you until he is inches away and you can almost feel the heat between your bodies. “Why does it not make sense to you? You’re clever, aren't you? What’s that theory - every action has an equal and opposite reaction? You like me, and I like you. Equal. Two-ways. Makes perfect sense to me.”

“So… you aren’t just using me for help?” you ask. "You... like me?"

“No, no, I’m not using you for your brain…." he says snarkily before tapping his forehead against yours and letting out a smug laugh. "In fact, I think you’ve been pretty stupid.”

“Stupid?!” you recoil at a word you had never been called before.

“I said pretty stupid. And by that, I mean stupid pretty - in that you're unbelievably attractive - but also pretty kind of stupid, yes. You’re smarter than this, usually…." Jungkook envelops his arms around your waist once again, trapping you. Stunned, all you're able to do is look into his eyes as he goes on.

"Y/N, I want you to think for a second… Did I really need all that help I asked for? Did I really make it onto the Dean's List when I was supposedly doing that badly? Did I really not understand? Did I really need to sit beside you while we both worked? You said it yourself, I'm among the smartest kids in this school. I’ll let you in on a secret… sometimes I used to finish up my work before you and just played mini-games on the computer.”

Jungkook's hands find your face, pushing back a strand of your hair and giggling at what must've been a puzzled look on your face. When your gaze wanders in realization, trying to put all the pieces together, his hand cups your face, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Sure, you helped me a little bit, but it was... heaven getting you to explain things to me, especially the things I already knew. It meant I could just spend my time staring at you, getting all passionate and excited. Do you know how wide you smile when I act like I 'get it'? Or whenever I actually do. It's why I keep asking you to repeat it - I can never retain any of the new information because all my brain wants to focus on is you.

For God's sake, ask Taehyung and Jimin. Ask them how much I talk about you. Did you ever actually listen to what they say when they specifically see us together in here?"

"I assumed they were making fun of you," you mumble.

Jungkook scoffs. "Yeah, no, Y/N. They tease me for having the guts to fight but not to confess, they kept trying to pressure me to do so."

It's hard to remember that Jungkook was a trained fighter when his embrace felt so safe, you think, staring at his torso in disbelief.

"Still don't believe me? Ask Mr. P how we got assigned together for that paper.”

The sentence stuns you to your core more than anything, jerking your head up to face him.

“I never needed that much help. I just… I wanted to spend time with the girl I'd had a crush on since I got here and didn’t know how to. I like you…. I always have…. idiot,” he says, pulling you closer to him until his lips meet yours in another kiss.

Just this once, you were euphoric to be so stupid.

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[morlao]

Secret Admirer

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

■ friends to lovers

■ Isaac Garcia x fem!reader

Valentine's Day or in other words: that real fun time of the year where boys buy roses for their crush and (since most of them give the roses anonymously) girls try to find out who the rose is from. It was always really funny, especially when it involved one of your friends. Last year Kiley was the lucky one. She was invited on a date, a blind date, and she came home super excited, telling you and your friends that it was a guy from the Football team.

This year you are sure it would be Jackie. You and Skylar have a bet about who would make the first move. He says Cole, you say Alex. Your chances of winning are quite high since you and Kiley are telling Alex for weeks that this would be the perfect opportunity for him.

Jackie herself doesn't seem so sure about getting a rose at all. When you meet up with her in school she and Grace are talking about it. "No Grace, Cole is with Erin, he for sure won't get me a rose!" "Bullshit." "Grace!"

"Oh, come on Jackie," you sigh, joining Grace's side, "I'm pretty sure you'll get at least one rose today." The blush that starts to rise to Jackie's face makes your grin even wider. "And you know that too", you tease her.

Jackie clears her throat, grabs her backpack and stands up. "Okay, time for class, we can talk later" You know exactly that she is just trying to avoid this topic but nevertheless you nod. "Yeah, classes", you murmur with absolutely no motivation.

Slowly you start walking into class. Of course there are already a bunch of roses lying on some of the desks. The girls stand around them and whisper excitedly, while sometimes stealing glances towards the boys. You walk to your place and... Wait, there is a rose on YOUR desk. For a moment you stand there, confused and in disbelief. You have never received a rose before. You also have no idea who might have put it there. Maybe the boy put it on the wrong desk by accident. It for sure isn't meant for you. You would have noticed if someone had a crush on you, wouldn't you? At least if the boy showed it as obvious as Cole and Alex did concering Jackie.

When you are finally able to break free of your paralysis you slowly start walking towards it. Only then do you notice the little note that was attached to it. Your heart starts to race as you see that your name is written on it. It is no accident, the rose is really for you! You take a look around, searching for any suspicious behaviour, but nobody seems to act strange. With your fingers trembling you unfold the paper and stare at the few lines that were written there by computer.

"Y/N, I've been in love with you for quite a while now. I hope you like the rose."

Of course you couldn't wait for the lessons to end. As soon as the bell rings, you storm out of the classroom, nearly bumping into one of your classmates, and run to the cafeteria to meet up with your friends.

"Guys, I got a rose and a note!"

Immediately they all gather around you, almost ripping the note out of your hands as each one of them wants to read it. "Do you have any idea who it could be?" Jackie sounds super excited. "Nope, sadly not. Could be anyone." You try to think about whether someone acted strange around you. Nothing unusual.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Isaac walks up behind you and tries to get a look at the note. Hastily you try to cover it with your hands. Yes, he was one of your closest friends and yes you trusted him with your life but you also knew that he could be a real pain in the ass especially when it came to boys.

The last time you mentioned that Cole was cute he complained so loudly that all the girls were crazy about Cole that the whole cafeteria heard it. You had never felt so embarrassed in your whole life. Also the next week Cole kept walking up to you with his arrogant grin, asking if you would like to come to his place that night. It took several weeks for him to stop.

Quickly you snatch the note away from him. "Nothing, just..." "You got a love letter!" "No that's not..." You sigh as you don't know what else to call it. It is right, it is a love letter. "Okay, yes I got a love letter and I also got a rose. Don't ask who it is, I don't know." Isaac looks at you, his dark eyes sparkeling as he teases you. "Who do you want it to be?"

You feel all your friends' eyes on you. A very good question. Who did you want it to be? A year ago you would have immediately answered Cole. But now... of course you still think that he is very attractive - nobody would deny that - but his behaviour and the rumors about him making out with numerous girls even though he seems to be with Erin, made you change your mind. You wouldn't want to be with someone who plays you like a toy and gives you mixed feelings or even a roller coaster of emotions.

If you were completely honest, lately you catch yourself often thinking about Isaac. Why didn't you notice before how handsome he actually is? Maybe because you knew him practically since kindergarten. He had always been one of your best friends, it would be weird to see him as more. Or wouldn't it?

You blush as you notice that your friends are still staring at you, waiting for your answer. What should you say? Your eyes dart across the room and the first one you see is... "Er... Dylan. Yeah... I think I might have a crush on Dylan."

Isaac's shoulders tense. "Dylan?!" He almost spits out the name, then he rolls his eyes murmuring something about bad taste in men before walking away.

Kiley looks at you, ignoring him completely. "Do you think the note could maybe be from Dylan?" You shrug, as you didn't really care if it was him or not. "That's the worst about it... I have absolutely no idea who it could be."

The following days you all do your best to find out more about your secret admirer but it seems to be impossible. He really did his best to stay anonymous. Isaac still seems to be upset. You don't really get it, because as far as you knew you did nothing to piss him off. Nevertheless he still avoids you during break and sometimes you catch him glaring at you or your friends from across the room.

On top of that you slowly start to regret calling Dylan your crush as Kiley tries her best to be a good friend and gives him little hints in order to find out if he likes you too. All you could do is watch and act like you were excited about it when in reality you couldn't care less.

Almost two weeks have passed and you still have no idea who your secret admirer is. Valentine's Day was over so no more notes and no more roses. What if he disappeared until Valentine's Day next year? You would have to wait the whole goddamn year and that only for another anonymous note? And what if he didn't like you anymore next year? You would probably never find out who it was!

Frustrated you bang your head against the kitchen table. Jackie had invited you to the Walters' house for a girls night. Probably she wants to distract you from racking your brains over who it could be. But as she is just as curious as you, the topic comes up again and again.

"I asked my classmates. Nobody saw who left the rose", you tell her. "Do you think it's someone you know? Maybe someone you're friends with?", Jackie asks. "Why do you think that?" "Well, it was written by computer. Maybe the person feared you would recognize the handwriting." Your eyes widen. Why didn't you think of that?

A quiet laughter makes you turn around. Isaac has entered the room. He grabs a glass of water and grins at you. "Are you still trying to find your secret lover?"

"Yes, I do and I won't stop until I know who it is." Your voice sounds determined even though you have no idea what else you could do.

"He could have at least left a hint", Jackie sighed, "Why send someone a rose without the intention to maybe go on a date together?" Isaac shrugs. "Maybe it was just a joke."

You glare at him across the table. "Thank you so much for encouraging me, idiot!" Again he shrugs and walks out of the kitchen again, murmuring just as loudly so you could hear it "Well, if you are into popular Football guys, you should get used to being played."

You don't know what to say. Why is he being such an idiot? Jackie takes your hand, smiling softly. "Hey, forget about him. Maybe he's just stressed." You nod and smile at her even though you don't think that being stressed gives him the right to let it out on others.

A few days later as you walk up to your locker with Jackie you see another note stuck there. Again it had your name written on it. Jackie squeaks excitedly as you take it and unfold it.

"Meet me at 8 on the Football field."

Your heart skips a beat. He wants to meet you! That is your chance of finding out who it is. But as you continue to think about it, also a feeling of nervousness starts to appear. Do you really want to know who it is? What if it is someone you don't like or aren't attracted to? Maybe it would be better not to destroy the illusion of your secret admirer.

Jacky looks at you in disbelief as you tell her your doubt. "No way, you're going!" Her voice allows no contradiction. "You were trying to find out who it is for weeks and now you don't want to take this opportunity? You go there, otherwise I'll drag you there! Your choice."

Okay, sounds like you had no other option. You will go there.

You can't wait for your classes to end. Your eyes are fixed upon the clock and you tap your foot nervously. When finally the bell rings, you are upon the first to storm out of the classroom.

Your friends are there to comfort you during waiting for it to finally be 8 o'clock. Grace lists tons and tons of names who she thinks it is, not noticing that she makes you even more nervous by doing so.

At 7:55 you stand up, gather all your courage and make your way to the football field. It's already getting dark and nobody's there. You stand there waiting, your eyes darting around in search of someone.

Times goes by, it's 8:05 then 8:10, 8:15. Your nervousness fades and instead you start to doubt. Are you maybe really getting fooled? What if it was really just a joke? You are just thinking about leaving when you finally notice a figure walking towards you. Your heart starts racing and as he comes closer you finally see who it is. You stand there in disbelief. "Isaac?!"

The boy smiles shyly at you. "Hi, Y/N." "You... are you... no that's not possible!" You don't know what to say. It seems like all the words had just disappeared from inside your head. Was this a joke? Isaac rubs the back of his neck nervously. He can barely look you in the eye. "Are you disappointed that it's me?"

You had never seen him this shy or nervous before. He always seemed so... relaxed and cool with everything. It had to be a joke, it had to be a joke! Every second that you remain silent is pure torture for the poor boy standing in front of you. He clearly seems to take your silence as a "yes". "I know I'm not the hot and charming Cole Walter or fucking Dylan!" His voice cracks and he tries desperately not to show how hurt he is.

You finally manage to get out more than just a stutter. "It was you? The rose was from you? This is not a joke?" Isaac looks at you, torn between sadness and confusion. "Why should this be a joke?" Your face burns with embarrassment. "You're one of my best friends... I never thought that you'd have feelings for me."

Isaac lowers his head and his dark hair falls into his eyes, covering them almost completely. "You're amazing, you're smart, beautiful and the best friend someone could wish for. How could I not fall in love with you?"

Would it feel weird to kiss him since you had known him for so long? You had thought about it before, never seriously though, he was only a friend after all. But now... the thought of it doesn't sound as weird as you thought it would. Slowly you walk towards him. "Why did you never tell me?"

Isaac bites his lip. "I wanted to, I really did, but then you stood there in front of me and I panicked. Also I didn't want to ruin our friendship."

With a small smile you grab his hand and he looks at you, clearly surprised. "I want to tell you a secret", you whisper and lean towards him, your heart racing in your chest. Just before his lips touch yours you confess: "I lied when I told you I hoped it was Dylan. Actually I hoped that it was you."

You can see from the look on his face that he didn't expect that. "Really?" "Really." A huge smile crosses his lips. He cups your face with his hands and pulls you towards him, smashing his lips onto yours. His kiss is passionate and warm, sending a tingling sensation through your body.

As you pull away from each other he looks at you with the brightest smile possible. "If I had known that, I would have confessed years ago!" You roll your eyes laughing and pull him in for another kiss.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

#my life with the walter boys #isaac garcia #secret admirer #isaac garcia x reader #walter boys

[lu-vin-it]

Balance

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

Summary: You’ve never cared much for James Potter, but the universe knows best, right?

Pairings: James Potter x Reader, Cindy Hawthorn (oc) x Marlene Mcinnon

Pronouns used: None mentioned

Word Count: 2,403

Warnings: R and R’s friends are kinda mean to James at first.

A/N: Thank you to @lemkay-luminary for proofreading! Ily!!!

They say you don’t actually live until you meet your soulmate, that the day you finally touch them for the first time the world stops and you magically start living. They say that before you’re on autopilot. You weren’t sure how much you believed that. You hadn’t met your soulmate yet, but you thought you lived a pretty full life.

You had a close group of friends— Cindy Hawthorn from Slytherin, Zachary Jones from Hufflepuff, and Michael Perez from Slytherin— you were in Ravenclaw just like your Mother, you were a prefect,you got mostly perfect grades. So how could you have not lived?

James was the opposite. He did every crazy thing he could think of to prove himself wrong, he wanted to believe his life was perfect as is, but it never worked. He knew he wasn’t living without his soulmate, he could feel it.

He had Sirius, Remus,Peter, Lily, Dorcas, Marlene, and Mary. He had a great set of parents, plenty of money, made fine grades and he was head boy. He had what seemed to be the perfect life, but he knew it was far from.

As a prefect, one of your duties this year was to help plan the winter ball. You were ecstatic, the winter ball was one of your favorite things ever.

You sat with Mike as usual at the prefect meeting. Mrs. Mcgonagall sat with James Potter and Lily Evans on either side of her, head boy and head girl. You hadn’t really ever talked to either one of them, the only class you had with them was astronomy and most slept during astronomy.

Though, you had an opinion on James Potter, who didn’t? Most people loved him, somehow finding him charming. You personally saw him as a childish boy disguised as a man.

You and the other Ravenclaw prefect, Eric Jonesy, were in charge of food. That was your favorite job since you got to taste everything the elves made to make sure it was good, and it always was. When you heard your name called, you gave Jonesy a polite smile, and he did the same.

“Well, I’d better go talk to Eugenia, how we’re to find music I’ve got no clue.” Mike says to you, standing up as the meeting ends.

“That’s fine, I’ve got to talk to Jonesy about snacks anyways. See you at breakfast?” He nods and salutes you as he walks away. You grab your bag and approach Jonesy. “Hey, do you have an idea on when we should talk about the snacks?”

“Oh hi L/N! Erm.. Are you going to the quidditch game on Saturday?” You scrunch up your face and shake your head. “Perfect me neither, would you like to meet up at twelve in the common room then?”

“That works for me. See you then.” You smile and wave before walking off. When you exit the meeting room, a boy runs into you, knocking you to the floor. You look up to see Sirius Black on the floor in front of you.

“I’m sorry!” You narrow your eyes at him.

“It’s past curfew, Black, what are you doing here?” I stand up and he follows soon after.

“Waiting for James.” You roll your eyes.

“Five points from Gryffindor. He’s inside.”

He grins. “Thank you!” He goes to hug you and you place your hand on his chest.

“Don’t push it.” With that, you walk off.

The next morning, you and Mike meet up with Zach, Cindy, and Cindy’s girlfriend, Marlene, in the great hall.

“Morning all!” You say, sliding onto the bench.

“Morning.” They chorus.

“How’d the prefect meeting go? Heard you took some points from us.” Marlene asks, taking a bite of her grits.

“It went well, I’m in charge of the food for the ball!” You smile proudly. “And yes, Sirius Black seemed to think that waiting outside a room full of prefects after curfew was a good idea.”

She rolls her eyes.“Course he did.” She turns to her girlfriend and smiles. “We’re going to the ball together right?” Cindy nods.

“I thought that was implied.” She says with a small laugh. Zach fake gags from beside her.

“I miss my best friend.” He says dramatically.

“I’m right here dumbass.” Cindy snorts, moving her blonde hair behind her shoulders.

“No you’re not. You’re on Marlene island. And you didn’t even get a ticket back.” She deadpans.

“Are you serious right now? I’m going to act just like this when you meet your soulmate and want to spend every second with her.” Zach grimaces. Mike wraps his arm around you.

“At least I have my stand-in soulmate still.” You smile and shake your head. Mike has been calling you that since you were 11 and witnessed two soulmates meeting for the first time.

“Agreed.” Zach opens his mouth to retort but is interrupted by four boys approaching you all. It’s James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. You sit up straighter. “Can we help you boys?”

“Heard you took points from Gryffindor last night. I asked Sirius to wait there for me so I’d like them back, thank you.” James replies.

“Does Mcgonagall know you, the head boy, are letting fellow classmates— not to mention your best friend— get away with being out past curfew?” No response. “You’re lucky I only took five. I could’ve taken ten. Fifteen even. And, Black, you’re lucky I didn’t give you detention.”

“Oh. Yeah thanks for that.”

“I would’ve revoked it anyways.” James murmurs.

“Dumbledore must have been feeling funny when he appointed you head boy.” You shake your head and start eating breakfast.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’ve done nothing to actually deserve the honor of head boy. You’ve had more write ups than I can count on my fingers. Everyone else is just too blind to see.” Mike replies for you. “I mean, come on now, you barely even passed potions last year.”

“It’s a hard subject!” Mike rolls his eyes. “What have you all got against me anyways? Are you jealous?”

Zach turns around. “Potter, what could we possibly be jealous of? You didn’t even win the quidditch cup last year.”

“That’s because your beaters hit a bludger at him!” Sirius replied.

“Maybe that’s because that’s what they’re supposed to do?”

“If you all have some sort of problem with James, just say it.”

“I have a problem with James.” Zach and Cindy chime.

“I have a problem with James. Wow, that was actually really clarifying, thank you Sirius.” Mike says with a shit eating grin.

“I have no issue with James. I’ve got issues with rule breaking.”

“You must be fun at parties.” James says with a snort.

“I am actually.. when I’m not on duty. That’s the difference between you and me, I know when things have gone too far.”

“What are you talking about? I know when things are too far!”

“Really? Like in fifth year when you publicly humiliated Snape? That wasn’t too far?”

“I was fifteen!”

“So was Snape! You never even apologized.”

“What, so you don’t like me because of something I did two years ago?”

“Yes.. and the fact that you don’t seem a bit sorry for it, or any other prank you have ever pulled on anyone. James, don’t take it personally, I’m sure you just forgot or didn’t realize. At least I hope so.” You stand up, grabbing your things. “I’m off to class. Have a wonderful day.” You turn to your friends. “Whose common room are we meeting in later?”

“Yours!” Zach yells. He always preferred the Ravenclaw common room to his own. Especially since it’s a tower and, in his words, ‘The perfect landing pad’. He would open a window from the outside on his broom, and fly in.

“Alright. See you all then.” With that, you walk off.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly, your classes are great, seeing your friends is great, and you only had one more class. Astronomy. You were able to sneak in a small nap before heading up to the tower.

You don’t bother standing with anyone else, you’re far too tired to socialize. However, when James Potter walks in and sees you, he immediately goes to stand beside you.

“Evening, L/N!”

You deadpan. “It’s midnight.”

“How was your day?”

You glare at him.

“Sleepy?”

No response.

“Fair. I’m quite tired myself. Head boy duties, you wouldn’t get it.”

“Shut up, please, for the love of Merlin, shut up.” You beg, stepping away from him.

“Wait—“ James reaches out and grabs your hand. Before you can realize it, everyone suddenly stops, it’s like you're frozen in James’ grip.

“What the hell?” You whisper, looking around at your frozen classmates. You glance at your wrist and finally realize that James is touching you. For the first time.

“You’re my soulmate.” He says, with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen in your life. You stare at him astonished.

“What the hell?” You repeat. You pull your wrist out of his grip and everyone starts moving again. “We will talk about this later.” You walk off, leaving the tower, completely disregarding the professor yelling at you.

Your first thought is to go get Mike, but you knew he was asleep, he was always in bed at 8 PM on days he didn’t have Astronomy. So instead you just went to your room, and slept.

The next morning, you’re woken by someone pounding on your door. You groggily get up and answer, no one should be there this early on a Saturday.

“What?” It’s Mike, grinning at you knowingly.

“James Potter is your soulmate?”

You groan. “How did you find out? It happened at 12 last night, do you have a mic on me or something?” You shake your head and let him in, closing the door behind him and then collapsing on your bed.

“I know everything. How are you feeling about it?”

“Out of all the people in the world, it had to be him? He’s so.. childish.”

“And you’re pretty uptight.”You look at him in shock. “It’s the truth! You are! I say it out of love, you know that. Opposites do attract, maybe you and Potter will be really good together.”

“Maybe.”

“How did he react?”

“He was pretty happy. I just brushed him off like he was nothing. Merlin.. what kind of soulmate am I?” You rub your face. “I have to go talk to him huh?”

“Yeah.” He pauses. “I know I’ve never liked him, but I think you guys will be great together. You have to be. Look at this as a good thing, will you?”

“I’ll try.”

“Okay, now get out of bed, and go talk to your soulmate. I’ve got to high five the entire student body.”

You laugh. “Use hand sanitizer.” He nods before leaving. You sigh, looking up at the ceiling wondering if James would even want to talk to you after last night.

After getting up and dressed, you go to the Gryffindor common room, asking the Fat Lady for him. You waited for five minutes, until the portrait opened and Remus Lupin walked out. He gave you a polite smile.

“Is James in there?”

“Er.. yeah. I should warn you, Sirius set up a prank in the common room. There’s a trip-wire at the end of the tunnel, don’t touch it and you’ll be fine.” You nod.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.. And, for the record, James is happy it’s you.” He leans into the portrait and whispers the password, letting you in when it opens. You walk down the tunnel, hesitating, you are able to spot the trip wire and step over it.

It’s easy to find his dorm, “HEADBOY” is carved right above the door. You knock as soon as you get there so that you don’t overthink it and leave.

“One moment!” James calls out. You find yourself smiling at the sound of his voice. You can hear shuffling on the other side of the door before it finally opens and James meets your eyes. “Y/N!”

“Hi James. Can I come in?” He quickly nods and moves out of your way. His dorm is big, there’s a full sized bed, a couch, a few bookshelves, a desk, and two wardrobes. “You have a nice dorm..”

“Thank you! Perks of being Headboy I suppose.” You sit down on the couch and he quickly sits beside you.

“I apologize for running off last night.”

“It’s okay, I understand.”

“I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why I did that. I’m sorry.”

“Y/N, it’s okay. I understand that you were shocked.” You shake your head.

“More than shocked. We’re complete opposites, James. I was scared, I am scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of us hating each other!”

“Why would we hate each other?” You sigh.

“Because! You’re so.. loose. You’re brave. You’re the most Gryffindor-y person I’ve ever met. And I am not that. I am quiet, I’d do anything to stay out of trouble, I hate being in trouble. Meanwhile trouble seems to follow you wherever you go!” James just stares at you. “I don’t know how you could ever possibly be happy with someone like me.” You admit quietly.

“How could I not be?” He immediately replies. “You’re like sunshine. I’ve never seen you do anything other than laugh. You’re responsible, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I could probably do with being a little moreresponsible myself. If anything, you’re perfect for me. I’m perfect for you. We balance each other out. You have half of my soul, don’t ignore that, please.” You stare at him for a second, trying to form a response. Instead you just grab his face and kiss him.

When you pull away from the kiss, James smiles at you.

“Don’t.” You say, glaring at him.

“What? I didn’t even say anything.”

“You were thinking.”

“I do that a lot.”

“Poor brain.”

“You like me.”

“Hush.”

“You kissed me!”

“Shut up!”

“You fancy me!” You hit his shoulder playfully as you start to smile too.

“You kissed me back, you must fancy me too.”

“You caught me.” He leans in and kisses you again.

As you sat there with James, you realized that even though the relationship would definitely have its issues it was worth it.

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

Taglist— @artvoyager

#james potter x reader #james potter fanfiction #james potter x you #harry potter x reader #sirius black x reader

[thewritetofreespeech]

can you do scenarios for the GoM boys + Himuro falling asleep by or on female reader?

GoM Boys + Himuro - Nap Time

Akashi

It was hard to tell when something was wrong with Akashi. He held in his emotions very well. However, being around him so much, and so close, you could tell that something was off; even as he diligently worked on the student council paperwork.

“Akashi-kun, is something the matter?”

The red head looked up from his writing, slower than usual, but smiled. “No [Y/N]. Of course not.”

“I can tell that something is off with you. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

He seemed to hem & haw over your earnest entreaty before he turned back to his paperwork. “I’m just a little tired. Nothing to worry about.” It took a lot for Akashi to mention that. Any sign of weakness was something that his family, or father, would not tolerate. So, it showed how much he trusted you.

You weren’t surprised he was tired. The expectations put on him, as well as his academics, extra curriculars, and basketball, it was a wonder he wasn’t exhausted all the time. The stress must really be getting to him if he was willing to admit he was ‘a little tired’.

Setting down your pen, you sneak over to the door of the student council room and lock it. “Why don’t you lay down on the couch?” You offer. “No one can come in now. And I’ll keep watch for anyone lurking around in the halls.”

“I couldn’t possibly do that.” Akashi insisted. Acting as if the whole idea was absurd.

“Come on. It’s not like you’re the first student council member to crash out on it.” The implication that he was no different from his peers may Akashi furrow his brow. “I won’t tell anyone. Rest is important for recovery. I’ll work on this, and you can take a quick cat nap, and will never tell anyone your shameful secret of you being tired once in your life.”

He scoffed once at your joke, but seemed to concede. “Very well,” Akashi agreed as he loosened his uniform tie and headed for the couch, “as long as my secret is safe with you.”

“Always.”

This seemed to put him at ease and Akashi fell asleep to the sound of your pen against paper. Scribbling away while he rested in the afternoon sun.

Aomine

Aomine napping wasn’t anything new. He spent most of his school days up on the roof in his favorite nap spot, watching the clouds and laying in the sun like a cat. It was a wonder he didn’t get burned.

Climbing the stairs to the roof, you found him spread out on the concrete. Still unsure how that could possibly be comfortable. “Are you going to class at all today?”

The basketball star opened one eye up at you, then shrugged. “I’ll go to lunch.”

“Lunch isn’t a class, Aomine.” You remind him as you knelt beside him.

He stretched long and loud before he settled back into his nap position. “I’m gonna go to science here in a bit. We’re learning about cicadas.” You smirk at Aomine’s childish interest still in all things insect related.

He rolled over and placed his head in your lap. “But that’s not for another half an hour.”

“Hey! I’m not a pillow! And unlike you I have to go to class.”

“If you did you wouldn’t be up here.” He cleverly remarked. You growl a little and tempted to just stand up and let his big, dumb head smack against the pavement.

Aomine’s hand reached back to touch your leg. Not in a gropey way, but in a calm, affectionate, soft kind of way. “Stay with me.”

His words make your heart weak. Looking at his peaceful face, and the gentle way he spoke only to you. Your resolve cracked instantly. “Fine. But we’re going to class at the bell.”

Aomine smirked in his sleep and continued to nap. Resting in your lap with the cool breeze and warm sun. You wish you had brought a book.

Kise

It was late at night when Kise texted you and said he was finally finished with his shoot. The two of you were supposed to meet up for a date, after his modeling gig, but it had run very late. You were willing to let it go, but Kise insisted that you had made plans and were going to stick with them.

“Hey [Y/N]-cchi.” He greeted at the door in his signature way, but with much less enthusiasm.

“Kise you look exhausted.” You tell him honestly, but still let him in and close the door. “I told you we could reschedule. You didn’t have to come all the way over here.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” He insisted as he took off his shoes. “The shoot was really hard, but I felt bad for bailing on you because of work. Do you still want to go out? There’s some after hours clubs I could probably get us into.”

“No thanks.” Aside from the fact that Kise clearly looked tired, you were already in your pjs and didn’t want to get dressed again. “Why don’t we just relax and watch a movie. Did you even eat anything while you were on set?”

“Oh, you know models.” He joked as he followed you down the hall toward the living room on autopilot. “Nothing but coffee and mineral water.”

You tell Kise to sit down on the couch and you would make him something. Surely you had enough stuff in your fridge to make him a sandwich. Coming back into the living room you saw Kise on the couch with his head tipped back on the sofa, asleep. You smile a little as you appreciated the gesture of him wanting to make time for you, but it was clear he was working himself hard to keep up with school, basketball, modeling, and you. Kise was a nice guy. He wanted to make people happy; even sometimes at the expense of himself.

You set the snacks down and pull out a blanket to lay over him. Kise roused a little, but more to adjust to a more comfortable position. His head lulling to the side.

You smile again and curl up next to Kise, who immediately wrapped his arm around you in his sleep. It may not have been the date Kise had wanted with you, but it was still nice to spend time together. Even if you were both asleep for it.

Kuroko

“Kuroko….Kuroko….KUROKO!”

The blue haired boy jumped awake in alarm; or as alarmed as Kuroko could get. He looked at you in surprise as you scrunched your mouth and told him, “You were asleep.”

“Oh. Was I?” He asked rubbing his eyes.

“How could you not know?”

“Well, sometimes when I stay up late reading, I just nod off for a few minutes and wake back up. My presence is so low most people don’t seem to notice.”

“And you don’t walk into walls or anything?” You ask curiously. More interested in the phenomenon than irritated now.

Kuroko shrugged. “Not really. If I do, I’m not moving that fast. So I just bump into it, wake up, and keep going.”

“What if you walk off a bridge or something?!”

“I haven’t done that yet either. So I guess it’s ok.”

You watch Kuroko as you continue to walk to school. Staring at his face until his eyes suddenly slide closed and he was practically sleepwalking the rest of the way to school. He was right. No one really seemed to notice and subconsciously moved out of his way as he moved through the morning bustle. Overall it seemed his body had the muscle memory to get him there unharmed, which was really interesting.

When you came to the crosswalk you reached out and grabbed Kuroko’s hand to hold it. He woke back up, blinked a few times, then looked down at your hands before looking up at you. “I’d like to make sure you don’t walk into traffic.” He smiled and squeezed your hand.

You walk the rest of the way to school, Kuroko in and out of sleep, before you both make it to the gate and he seemed ready for the day. “Thank you for keeping me safe [Y/N].” He told you. Squeezing your hand one last time before you part ways toward your separate classes.

Midorima

His head bobbed yet again as he stared at the textbook before it popped up. Midorima glared at the pages, as if their lack of interesting facts was the problem, and tried to refocus again.

“Why don’t we take a little break?” You suggest. Setting your own book down.

“No.” Midorima said emphatically. “We need to get this done before the next cram school.”

With graduation, and future plans for college fast approaching, you had both signed up for the same cram school. A very advanced, competitive cram school that boasted the highest acceptance rate into top universities. But it wasn’t only that the program was competitive, the students were. And though he tried to hide it Midorima was fiercely competitive.

“Midorima-kun, it’s ok. It was just a fluke. You don’t have to get first place for every practice exam. It’s just practice. Second is fine as well.” His hands gripped the pages of the textbook fiercely. Clearly, he did not agree. You sigh and close your book. “You know, studies show that a brain without enough REM sleep can not only not process information, but actually loose retention of pre-existing information in an effort to prioritize necessary function in the absence of rest.”

“Where did you read that from?”

“The Harvard Medical Journal.”

He stopped scanning the page and looked up at you over his glasses. Clearly only seeing reason now that someone with credentials he hadn’t even met had made the argument. “Fine. 20 minutes, then we go back to studying.”

You smile and come around to the other side of the table by Midorima. He seemed uncomfortable resting beside you, at first. But clearly he was so tired that that didn’t matter and was out very quickly after he closed his eyes. Not even bothering to take off his glasses.

You reset the alarm for an additional 20 minutes to let him rest longer. He was a little upset at the loss of nearly a full precious hour when he woke up, but did look more refreshed, and tackled the books with a newfound gusto.

Murasakibara

“[Y/N]-cchi….this movie is boring….”

“But you picked it?” You remind him as Murasakibara stretched out on the couch; taking up most of is with his size.

“I know, but it’s boring now.” He repeated. “Plus we’re out of snacks.”

“Is that why you’re bored?” You ask, not mentioning that you barely got any of the popcorn or candy you’d brought in. “Because you don’t have any snacks? I can pause and we get you some more.”

“No.” He replied. Although he clearly wasn’t responding to your question. “I’m comfy here now.” His head was in your lap, while the rest of was half covered with a blanket. Which, you had to admit, did look pretty comfortable.

“Murasaki-kun, you’re not going to fall asleep are you? I didn’t mention it earlier, but I kind of have to go to the bathroom and…” Your comments were cut off by a loud snore. Murasakibara clearly already asleep in your lap.

+Himuro

“Annnnd now I’m stuck.”

Himuro chuckled at your misfortune. “Sorry [Y/N]. I could try to move him if you want.”

“No…don’t wake him…” You’d seen Murasakibara woken up from a nap, and it was not pretty.

“Can you really blame him though? I’m sure your pretty comfy.”

“Oh yeah,” you droll back sarcastically, “just a big snuggly fluff ball over here.”

He chuckled again and shifted around under the blanket. “Hmm…I think so.”

“Not you too Himuro!” You hiss, trying not to wake Murasakibara, as he rested his head on your other shoulder.

“I’m not. I’m not.” Himuro insisted. “I’m just kidding around. I have a little more self-control than Murasakibara.” Even as he said that his eyes slid closed, and his words came out slower. Another few breaths and he was asleep. Quietly snoring on your shoulder, while Murasakibara snored loudly near your ear.

Yep….you were really stuck now.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers) #kuroko no basket #kuroko no basket scenarios #kuroko no basket imagines #knb imagines #knb scenarios #seijuro akashi #akashi seijuurou x reader #knb akashi #aomine daiki #aomine daiki x reader #knb aomine #knb aomine daiki #kise ryouta #kise ryota x reader #knb kise #kuroko no basket kise #knb kuroko #kuroko tetsuya #midorima shintarou #midorima x reader #knb midorima #murasakibara atsushi #murasakibara x reader #knb murasakibara #murasakibara atushi x reader #himuro tatsuya #tatsuya himuro x reader #knb himuro

[graysnetwork]

⊰Mr. Nonchalant⊱

info- spent half of the day writing this cause I was out of ideas but also bored and stuff. And i still have some requests i still have not done but for some reason i just get stuck. So i'm sorry if you requested and i've never done it.

warnings: wounds mentioned (cut/gash), blood

Summary: Keegan is only ever sweet with you, and it's finally dawned on him that, he likes you, a lot.

Keegan is so sweet with you.

He’s literally so nice to you, helping you with anything you need. And everyone on base fully believed you two had a thing going on because he was only nice to you, until you stared at them in confusion because you had no idea what they meant. There was nothing going on between you guys.

You thought he was just a nice guy who liked to help everyone, but you were wrong, kinda. He was a nice guy who did like to help, just you. 

He was a dream though, he helped you with everything; from training, to grabbing things from high places for you. And to add to that, he was handsome. He had those beautiful icy blue eyes, and he was always clean shaven, he had downturned lips, and short messy black hair. He rarely took his mask off, but with you he did. Barely anyone knew what he looked like. Only the people he trusted knew what his face looked like. You had only joined the team as a medic for them this year so the rest of the team  thought it was surprising he let you see his face since more than half of them have only ever seen his mouth when he lifted his mask to eat.

In Keegan’s perspective, he knew he was being very nice with you. There wasn't a particular reason. He just always wanted to be nice to you. You were pretty and super kind to him so he wanted to be kind to you as well. He was asked constantly by his teammates if you two had something going on and he denied everything, though, he wouldn't deny you if you wanted something to go on.

He was starting to realize his stomach did flips whenever you were around, and his face got hot under his mask when you stared at him through your lashes, and his mouth went dry when you asked him a question. His pupils would be blown out at the sight of you, or just the thought of you.

And he was such a serious guy, but for you…

He would even try to crack a joke or two when you were around just to hear a giggle come out of you. And he had very, very dry humor, and all of the jokes he told you were terrible but that's half the charm.

When Logan finally asked Keegan about you, his cheeks went red, and he stuttered like a kid presenting in front of a class. He was a total mess when it came to you, as a topic. When he was actually talking to you, he was totally fine. But Mr. Nonchalant was acting very chalant about you.

–

You sat in front of keegan staring at the wound on his side, you began stitching him up. His face contorted into an expression of pain, his groans intensified as you reached the middle of the slit.

“m’sorry… but i'm almost done” you whispered and he groaned back as a response. “S’fine sweetheart, dont worry about it, just hurry.. please” he whispered, You nodded and finished stitching the wound. Keegan sighed as you finished, he closed his eyes, sat back in his seat, and relaxed. “thank you..” his voice barely above a whisper. “are you okay?” you asked and furrowed your brows “im great, feeling better already” he muttered back, “good, i'm gonna go get you ice” you smiled and went over to the fridge and grabbed an ice pack. His eyes followed your figure, and your voice, he smiled and watched you.

“y/n, can we talk?’’ he muttered again, “of course, About what?” you perked up your brows, “..us..” he whispered, his stomach felt empty and he felt like throwing up. “what about us?” “well, i uh.. I need to talk to you about something” he gulped and he took his eyes off of you as you sat back down in front of him, he couldn't look at you anymore now, his eyes wandered everywhere except towards you.

“about what keegan?” you asked and placed the ice on the wound. “I-” he let out a shaky sigh as he sat up again trying to relax as he kept the ice on his slit. “I love you y/n” he whispered, your eyes widened and heat ran up your neck to your cheeks, you felt hot, not in a good, sexy way. Like you were having a fever.

“Oh wow..”

That was the only thing that could come out of your mouth at the moment.

“Yeah.. I love you. And it's fine if you don't even remotely like me back, because i love you so much that i just want you to be happy” he got up slowly from the chair, still keeping the ice against himself “ even if that means i don't get to love you, but i want you to be happy, and if that means no me in your life then that's fine, super fine, not fine with me but if it makes you happy, then i'll say it's fine…” 

“I want you” you gulped and stood up in front of him, “really?” his brows perked up and his stomach did flips. “Really.” you nodded and took in a deep breath and exhaled deeply. “good were on the same page..” you gulped once again, “yeah.. So, do you wanna go out some time” he asked, "sure, " you smiled sheepishly. “When we go out, i promise i'll actually have flowers for you and i'll tell you ‘i love you’ properly, y’know, flash mob and everything” he smiled “don't do that, please” you giggled.

He stepped closer,put his hand on your cheek,

And he leaned in and kissed you.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you kissed him back, gosh, he was a great kisser. His other hand found its place on your waist and he didn’t pull away, neither did you. It seemed that the two of you didn’t want this moment to end.

Nobody, if they were in this situation, would ever dare to pull away from this euphoric movie scene. You could probably pitch this as a movie scene, handsome shirtless soldier kissing a medic after admitting their love for each other.

Gosh, he was a good kisser.

#imagines #x reader stories #fluff #call of duty #keegan p russ #keegan russ #call of duty keegan #cod keegan #keegan russ x reader #keegan p. russ x reader #keegan x reader #keegan russ x you #keegan russ fluff #keegan p russ x reader

[snaillock]

i’m sorry but the fact that rin is canonically flunks most of his class except for english (cause he be on that sigma soccer grindset babyyy) has been lingering in my mind for like a week or so oh my god

like imagine him not caring enough about those classes (why care about your geometry grade when you’re gonna be the best striker anyway or whatever’s going on in his head) until one of his teachers nags him about improving his grades, even suggesting a tutor. at first he’s way too prideful to seek help from a tutor but the teacher’s incessant nagging made him give in and find a tutor who’s happens to be another student in his school, most likely an upperclassman.

while he’s waiting for you to show up clearly running a few minutes late, he mumbles to himself about how unnecessary and “lukewarm” this tutoring shit is.

when you finally showed up and gave your quick apologies for your tardiness, you took one look at rin’s impatient/borderline judgmental face and decided it was best to cut out the fluffy introductions and dive straight into it.

he’s pretty reluctant about telling you what exactly he’s having trouble with in class since being here already bruises his ego enough. not to mention, he’s very doubtful about your skills as a tutor (definitely isn’t personal ofc, he just be like that). you, of course, prove him wrong and also get him to share what he’s struggling with so you can actually help. then surprise! surprise! he already shows a lot of improvement by the end of the session.

the way you get him to open up about his academic struggles with ease kinda freaks him out but he goes along with it

there was just something about your patient yet stern way of teaching that made rin drawn into that made him focus up and actually work. clearly a step up from his shitty lukewarm teachers. after that session, rin soon found himself booking another one… then another… and another after that… ok look you just have an efficient way of teaching that does not cut into his precious soccer time. it’s not because of any other reason, he swears!

i imagine when he lowers his walls and slowly starts falling in love, he becomes a huge mess internally. can you blame him though? he’s never done this before. he’s never felt this before. oh my god. what do people even do when they’re in love?? what the hell even is love??? someone please answer him before he starts spiraling!!!

while these questions run around in his head, he watches as you explain the assignment he has to do for one of his classes, too engrossed in teaching to notice the redness on his neutral face

eventually he accepts his feelings for you but he’s still very lost on what to do now. after all, he has only had people fawn over him and he has never returned those feelings before. thus he has no idea what to do when he’s actually interested in someone and gets stuck for an indefinite amount of time.

oh rin itoshi. the man who can literally psychoanalyze the opposing team in 0.005 seconds and knows when to perfectly strike also has absolutely no clue on when and how to ask someone out.

so now the ball is in your court if you reciprocate his feelings and want to become more than just mere tutor and student

a.n.: this was supposed to be a three sentence thingy idk what the fuck just possessed me today

#★ snail.writes ★ #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi #shout outs to that one bllk fun fact post that made me wanna read rin’s light novel #rin x gender neutral reader #rin x gn reader #blue lock imagines #bllk #blue lock #blue lock x gender neutral reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x gn reader #wrote this while watching aaron and jo #just recently discovered their channel and they’re so fucking funny

[seasonsbloom]

bad habit part iii (hangman)

part i, part ii

pairing ; hangman x female!reader

synopsis ; the moment you meet hangman, you know you hate him. and then suddenly, you’re not so sure anymore.

wc ; 23k; yes you read that right you can’t be more confused than me idk either and i wrote it in six days

warnings ; angst, explicit language, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of previous character death, explicit sexual activity (Explicit sexual content (oral f and m receiving, p in v, like one sentence about choking but not rlly, some dom/sub elements, a little bit of degradation and praise kink), age gap, inexperienced reader, more angst, sappiness, feelings so many feelings all the feelings

note ; i don’t know what to say, this is literally INSANE i’m feeling INSANE this was a fever dream i wrote 8k words today none of this makes sense but it’s OVER IT’S DONE IT’S FINISHED anyways this isn’t proofread but i love you all besties and girlies and babes pls don’t hate it

also this would never have been possible without sol aka desertsagecelestial the best lines in this whole thing are credit to her sol i love you hand in marriage NOW

Hangman doesn’t lose.

And people call him cocky, arrogant, conceited… but the thing is, it’s the truth. He’s not exaggerating. He just really is that good.

When Hangman wants something, he gets it. Promotions, missions, girls, difficult to obtain first editions of Spiderman comic books… Hangman figures out a way.

Of course, it wasn’t always like that. Back when Jake was younger, when he was the invisible kid at the back of the class who nobody wanted to play with, he had to fight tooth and nail for everything. When his father said he’d never amount to anything, it took Jake years to push back, to say no, you’re wrong. But he did, eventually, joined the Navy, graduated top of his class at Top Gun, became someone people knew, someone people looked at, someone who wanted to be seen.

So Hangman doesn’t lose because Jake learned how to fight.

This situation, then, is a complete novelty.

Jake rips his helmet off, ears still ringing with the roaring of the engine, heart still hammering the way it always does after a landing. He’s half adrenaline, the highest of high, half jitters. Head still firmly stuck in the clouds. Only this time, there’s the unfamiliar, bitter taste of failure on his tongue. 

He doesn’t know whether to be embarrassed or surprised.

Captain Mitchell, having climbed out of his own plane, approaches with a frown. Just a few steps away, by the entrance to the hangar, where the Californian sun is flooding the asphalt with golden light, a throng of the other pilots has formed.

If Jake even sees Rooster, he might start throwing punches. He’s toeing a precarious line here - ascension or plummeting.

“What was that?” Maverick wants to know, fiddling with his helmet’s clasp. “You flew straight into my line of fire, Hangman.”

So, yeah, maybe Jake just got shot down in less than a minute. So, yeah, maybe he made a rookie mistake. So, yeah, maybe Jake is having a really bad day.

“I still maintain that he got dumped last night,” Coyote says. There’s no malice to the words, but Jake wouldn’t be surprised if he and Payback had some money running on this.

“I did not get dumped,” Jake growls for what feels like the fiftieth time. Seriously, his tongue is starting to go numb.

“Oh,” Phoenix says, “you totally got dumped.”

Now that might be actual malice. Phoenix decided last night that whatever had happened between you and Jake was clearly his fault, and she was therefore firmly and squarely on your side.

In Jake’s opinion, there are several things wrong with that assessment.

First of all, there shouldn’t even be any sides. It’s not like your circle of friends has to pick teams in a divorce. Secondly, even though she constantly complains about him, he’s known Phoenix for years. She met you less than a month ago. Shouldn’t she be in his corner? And then lastly and most importantly… Jake has no idea what the hell he did wrong.

It’s all pretty unfair.

“I told you that I didn’t get dumped,” Jake repeats, forming the words slowly and carefully in the hopes that they will sound more convincing than he knows them to be. “We weren’t dating.”

And he can’t explain it, that clenching in his stomach, that lump in his throat. He can’t explain any of it, except that it hurts in a way that’s unfamiliar, in a way that’s unwelcome.

Man. He really needs a drink.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

That’s Rooster, definitely. Jake tilts his head back towards the high, high ceilings of the hangar to avoid catching the other pilots’ eyes. 

Lord, give me strength, he thinks.

“Don’t quote Shakespeare at me.”

“Wow, you know Shakespeare?” Phoenix says immediately. “I didn’t know you could read, Bagman.”

Before Jake can retort something, Maverick steps between them.

“Hangman,” he says, and something about his voice is severe enough that Jake snaps to attention. “Is that true?”

“Is what true?”

He’s one hundred percent playing for time here. Sue him. He needs to come up with an excuse.

“Did you mess up because you were thinking about a girl?”

And the thing is, Jake wants to say no. He wants to say, No, Sir, I had a bad night. He wants to say No, Sir, the sun was in my eye. He wants to say, No, Sir, I was dodging a bird strike.

But every word turns to vapor on his tongue. He can’t get anything out.

And so he just stands there, blinking like an idiot at his instructor.

Because the truth is, Jake can’t for the life of him remember what he was thinking about as he went up on the plane. Considering you’ve been on his mind pretty much non-stop since you met, and it’s only gotten worse since you stormed up to him at the Hard Deck last night, it’s not unlikely that he really was knee-deep in a train of thought revolving around you.

You’ve been haunting him. A specter squeezing into the cockpit with him. A ghost sneaking into his bed. Riding shotgun in his car.

You’re everywhere, at the bottom of each glass, soaring in the skies, under his skin, in his bloodstream. He can’t shake you.

There’s real disappointment on Maverick’s face, and Jake’s stomach drops. The older man sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“You guys…” he says softly. “This isn’t a joke. Up there, you can’t be distracted, not by girls or boys or anything juvenile like that. You can’t be distracted by anything. This is life or death. Death, do you get that? I won’t have it. And this goes for all of you.”

He makes sure to let his pointing finger wander over all of them before he storms off, the door slamming behind him.

An awkward silence spreads among them, punctured only by the shuffling of feet and somebody clearing their throat.

“Well,” Rooster says finally, slapping Jake on the back with enough force it almost buckles his knees as he makes for the door. “Thanks for that, Hangman.”

Jake should probably say something, but his mind is wandering again. He’s thinking of you, standing in a sea of broken glass, Mojito staining the front of your shirt, eyes shuttered and forlorn in a way he hadn’t seen before… 

He gets the feeling now.

“Jesus,” Coyote says, stepping up beside Jake. “The way Captain Mitchell is talking, you’d think he isn’t hooking up with Penny on the down-low.”

Something about Coyote’s voice tells Jake he feels bad for him. He doesn’t like the idea of that, not one bit, but he also can’t really find it within himself to do something about it right now.

“Mitchell and Penny are hooking up?” Jake asks, genuinely surprised.

Bob, passing by them, frowns. “Hangman, you really aren’t very perceptive, are you?”

It’s so out of character that for a moment, Jake considers if he’s somehow managed to go through a black hole and ended up smack dab in a parallel universe where Bob, of all people, goes around insulting others. Where Jake, eternal bachelor, famed ladies’ man, messes up flight maneuvers because he’s too busy thinking about a girl.

“Did… did Bob just shade you?” Coyote asks.

For a moment, Jake seriously considers hitting his head against a wall.

So, yeah, maybe Jake is having a really, really, really horrible day. So much for never losing.

+

Something’s off.

First of all, Penny’s never invited you to dinner. Second of all, this is decidedly not the kind of establishment you were expecting.

Penny seems like a burger and fries in her car sort of girl. Maybe a few bottles of beer or a couple of milkshakes to wash it all down. The little restaurant twinkling golden on the beachfront is entirely out of character. 

Narrow round tables are covered in red and white checkered tablecloths, fairy lights are strung to the rafters, and behind the floor-to-ceiling windows, boats bob up and down on the waves. It’s a tiny place, cramped but charming. Upbeat Jazz plays from invisible speakers, and a smiling waitress leads you past what seems to be only couples on anniversary dates.

“Here you go,” she says as she seats you at your table, right at the glass front, and hands you each a menu. “I’ll come to take you guys’ order in a minute.”

You sit in the plush chair, frowning. Penny is perusing the menu like nothing’s wrong.

“Oooh, Lasagna al Forno… that sounds good, doesn’t it?”

“Penny,” you interrupt, not even opening your own menu. “What’s going on?”

Penny barely glances up at you. “You needed to get out of the house, sweetie.”

And she’s not wrong. You spent the last week since your… altercation with Hangman curled up in your bed, letting the anxiety eat away at you. The walls of your room closing in on you, the weight on your chest pushing you down until it practically molded you to the mattress.

Everywhere you looked, the world had grown teeth.

“I’m fine,” you say, but the words sound empty even to your ears.

Penny doesn’t indulge you.

“No, you’re not,” she says, voice firm. “You’re miserable.”

When you ended things with Hangman, you didn’t think much about whether you were making the right decision. You just wanted out. You wanted it to end, so scared of what would happen if it didn’t, if you let it continue, if you dipped even deeper into that pool. So scared that it might start meaning more than what it already did, that you would put your heart on something that was bound to end anyways.

Because guys like Hangman… handsome guys, confident guys, guys that hang around bars with toothpicks in their mouths… guys like that break you apart without a second thought.

And you’re already broken enough.

“I’m fine,” you reiterate and finally open your menu, staring at the entrées without seeing a thing. “I’m glad things are over between Hangman and me. It’s better this way.”

Penny is quiet for a moment, then she says, “Sweetie, you need to talk to him.”

“No, I do not,” you answer immediately. This is not the first time you’ve had this conversation. “What could I possibly have to talk to him about?”

“Oh, just… maybe you could explain to him just why you decided to break both your hearts, I don’t know.”

You purse your lips. “Penny. Hangman doesn’t care. He said so himself. This didn’t mean anything to him.”

And it’s so stupid. But his words replay in your mind like a broken record, like an endless loop, again and again. This was nothing. The cold upward turn of his mouth as he said it. Calm, collected. Unfazed.

You’re an idiot. You spent a few weeks flirting with a guy who wanted to get into your pants, and you made it into something it never was - made it big, made it important, made it matter, when really, to him, it had only ever been a game from the very beginning.

And now he’s off, somewhere, flying his planes, living bigger than you ever will, dreaming better, and you’re left on the ground, scrambling to pick up the pieces of yourself.

It’s pathetic.

But Penny looks at you from across the edge of her menu and says, “Pete says he’s been fucking up majorly during training. He’s distracted.”

It gives you pause for a moment and your heart - that stupid, incorrigible thing that never learns, never lets go, that latches onto everything - stutters in your chest.

“Huh?” you ask eloquently.

Penny jerks her head. “This wasn’t nothing to him.”

The smiling waitress returns with a notepad, and Penny orders lasagna and a bottle of wine. You settle for some kind of risotto, mainly because it’s the first thing your eyes land on.

After she’s left, you take a deep breath.

“It…” You hesitate. It’s so difficult to say it, to admit it, but you think if you don’t get the words out now, you never will. “It didn’t, Penny. I’m not… I’m not really someone people remember. I’m just… I don’t know. I’m just me. This didn’t matter to him. I didn’t matter to him.”

And Penny’s face softens. All her irritation of the past few weeks, the constant nagging when you came over for the tutoring session, the stream of texts asking you to come over for drinks, when she knocked on your door earlier, uninvited, and forced you into the shower, into a dress, into her car, it all just melts away. There’s nothing there now, not even pity, nothing there but genuine, real compassion, and you think you’re going to cry right here, in the middle of this restaurant…

“Oh, sweetie,” she says, reaching across the table to cup both your hands in hers. “You’re worth so much more than you think. When will you finally realize that?”

And it’s like this: since your mother’s death, you’ve just been so horribly, achingly lonely. The sort of loneliness that goes bone deep, that burrows into your bloodstream. You’ve drifted through the world unmoored, untethered, not belonging anywhere. Sure, you met people, but they disappeared from your life as quickly as they entered it. You let yourself become invisible, see-through like cellophane.

But with Penny, it’s like she sees you. Really sees you. In a way you don’t think anybody except your mother ever did, right down to your insecurities and flaws.

And somehow, with Hangman, it was the same. He saw something there with you, saw what you needed and what you wanted before you even really knew it yourself. And you don’t know if that’s just something about him, something he can do with any girl, or if it’s something special, if he understood you, all you know is that it terrified you half to death.

There’s something reassuring about remaining in the dark.

It’s a good thing the waitress comes back with a bottle of wine and a bread basket because you’re pretty sure you would have started sobbing otherwise.

You think you’re going to thank Penny, eat your food, try and enjoy the evening, and then maybe crawl into bed at the end of the night and cry a little more. Just… make the best of it.

But Penny glances over your shoulder, and something mischievous passes over her features. Suddenly, you feel a little sick.

She rises from her seat, and by the time you’ve glanced over your shoulder, they’re already at your table.

“Hi, Pete,” Penny says, grinning. “Hi, Hangman.”

You’re doing your very, very best not to look at him. Your stomach is turning. Perspiration builds up lightning-quick on the inside of your palms.

“Hi, Penny,” the older pilot you’ve never talked to but have seen hanging around the bar several times echoes, giving her a soft smile. He greets you by name, and you’re so stunned, so excruciatingly uncomfortable, that you can’t even react.

Pete manhandles Hangman into Penny’s vacated chair with two hands on his shoulders, and then you don’t really have a choice but to stare at him. He’s right there, in your line of sight.

Hangman looks as shocked as you feel, but there’s something else, too. He’s still handsome, of course, still tanned and blond and perfect, but something seems to have shifted. His hair is just a little less tidy, the bags beneath his eyes a little more pronounced. For the first time ever, you see him in civilian clothes - a t-shirt and jeans, something softer around the edges that makes your insides clench.

All initial instincts of flight bleed right out of you. It’s half hope, half fear, that keeps you rooted to your chair.

“You said this was a lesson,” Hangman says to his superior, looking, for lack of a better word, desolate.

“It is,” Pete answers, patting his shoulder before withdrawing.

And Penny says, “Listen, I know the owner. If you guys leave before finishing your dinner, there’ll be hell to pay.”

She points at Hangman. “I know your boss.”

Then she points at you. “I am your boss.”

And that’s final. Penny has a way of getting what she wants.

Before she leaves, she leans down to hug you and whispers softly, “Sweetie, you don’t need to go out of this evening dating him. You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to. But I think he deserves an explanation, at the very least.”

She draws back, smiles at the two of you as if she’s just performed some great, benevolent act, and then disappears with Captain Mitchell.

You half expect Hangman to get up and leave the moment the two are out of earshot. You half expect yourself to do the same.

But you both stay where you are, at that table, actively avoiding the other’s eyes.

The waitress comes to drop off your food. Hangman pours both of you a glass of wine and then downs his in one go.

Finally, he sighs like he just lost some internal fight and says, “I can’t believe they totally just parent-trapped us.”

“Parent-trapped?” you repeat, a little dumbly.

“Yeah, like… tried to set us up. You know, like in the cinematic milestone with Lindsey Lohan?”

You nod.

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. The gears in your head are turning on overdrive. You feel near frantic with nerves.

“Personally,” you say, your mouth moving before you’re really aware that you’re speaking, “my favorite bad matchmaker is Emma Woodhouse.”

Hangman frowns. “Who’s Emma Woodhouse?”

That has you gaping at him. 

“You don’t know Emma? By Jane Austen?”

“Jane Austen?” Hangman takes a sip of his water. “Is that the one with the Pride & Prepaid something? Where everybody goes to each other’s houses and just talks for hours?”

You’re going to have an aneurism. 

“Emma,” you say, now having trouble controlling your voice, “is one of the greatest pieces of literary fiction ever created. And you mean Pride & Prejudice.”

“Really?” He leans back and looks at you. “So what’s it about, then?”

“Well,” you launch into an explanation, jumping at the chance not just to fill this horrible silence but also to talk about one of your favorite books, and the words just seem to flow from you now, “Emma Woodhouse is this really pretty, really rich young Lady, yeah? And she decides that she’s not gonna get married, so instead, she tries to find a husband for her poor friend Harriet. So she wants to set her up with Mr. Elton, only it turns out Mr. Elton is actually into Emma, and at some point, they’re alone in a carriage, and he proposes marriage to her, and it’s super awkward, but then Emma thinks she’s in love with Frank Churchill who also turns out to not be for her and in the end, she realizes she’s really been in love with Mr. Knightley all along, who’s like a really close family friend, only now Harriet might be in love with Mr. Knightley, too, and they have a bit of a falling out and….”

Much too late, you stop yourself. The embarrassment comes belatedly, but it settles all the stronger.

Hangman is looking at you with a somewhat dazed expression. You can’t believe you just said all that.

You drag your fork through the mess on your plate, cheeks hot, and round it off by saying, “Anyway, it’s really about Emma realizing the errors of her ways and becoming more considerate of others, and it’s a commentary on class and privilege and all. It’s pretty good.”

“Okay,” Hangman says, and you have never wanted the powers of teleportation more than you do at this moment.

The embarrassment is going to eat you whole.

After another moment, Hangman says, “That just sounds like the plot of Clueless.”

You freeze, fork halfway to your mouth. 

“You… you know Clueless?”

One of Hangman’s eyebrows raises nearly to touch his hairline. “Do I know Clueless?” he repeats. “Is Cher Horowitz one of the best cinematic characters ever created? Of course, I know Clueless, I’m not a barbarian.”

You stare at him until a big blop of risotto rice lands on the tablecloth.

“Oh, I…” you stutter, moving to mop the spilled food up with your napkin. “Clueless is like, one of my favorite movies ever.”

“Yeah?” He grins, seemingly relaxing just a little bit. “Mine too. So, did Jane Austen steal the plot?”

You can’t help it - it punches a laugh out of you.

“No, it… Clueless was based on Emma. The novel came out like… 180 years earlier, I think.”

“Right.” Hangman nods. “Well, if it inspired Clueless, it must be a pretty good book then.”

You’re almost sure this is the longest conversation you’ve ever had without Hangman trying to get into your pants. It also might be the longest conversation you’ve ever had about your interests without someone shutting you down.

You’re developing a headache.

“Listen,” Hangman says suddenly, leaning forward in his chair. Something in his face has gone serious. “I understand what happened. I was pushing for something you didn’t want, and I pushed too hard, and you put a stop to it. That’s fine. It’s good, really. I respect it.”

And that’s not it at all. But you don’t know how to tell him that he’s got it all wrong, that it’s not that you didn’t want it. It’s that you wanted it too much. Wanted him so much it felt dangerously close to falling for him. Wanted him so much you knew you were giving him the power not just to see you, but to leave you.

He takes a deep breath.

“That doesn’t mean we have to avoid each other. Let’s just… let’s just be friends, okay?”

You feel like somebody punched you in the face.

“Friends?” you repeat softly.

“Friends,” Hangman confirms. He’s nodding his head.

Penny told you to explain it to him, made it seem like an imperative, but as you sit there, you realize she was wrong. You realize it doesn’t matter. Not to him, at least. Those words in the bar cross your mind again. It was nothing. His indifference to all that emotion you carry everywhere you go.

And you’re so angry with him, even if you know that you’re the one who brought this down on you, you’re the one who decided to end it. So angry you want to take him by the shoulders and shake him until that mask he carries finally slips off, until you get to see what lies beneath that.

Because the truth is, beneath the anger, beneath the frustration, you’ve spent the past week thinking of him. In bed, in the shower, at the gas station. And you missed him, even if that doesn’t make any sense.

And if you don’t tell him the truth, if you just let him believe his sexual advances were just a little too much for you instead of revealing the real depth of your feelings… well, then maybe you can at least preserve the last shreds of your dignity.

Besides… maybe, you think, it’s better to get any piece of him than nothing at all. Better to be friends than never to see him again. At least this way, you’d be safe.

“Yeah,” you say, and your voice sounds far away. “Yeah, friends. Okay.”

Hangman smiles, and it’s a real, genuine smile as opposed to his usual smirks. His eyes go all crinkly, and you clutch your fork tighter.

And after that, it’s… nice. You find out, to your own horror, that you actually do like Hangman. He’s funny and witty, and when he isn’t trying to fuck you, you realize you actually have things in common.

Together, you empty the bottle of wine and have another glass each, finish your meals, and share a plate of tiramisu that seems to melt on your tongue.

You squabble about the bill, but finally, Jake concedes and lets you pay, even though he looks like he’s about to start muttering in anger.

You like it. It kind of feels like finally being on even ground after weeks of fighting an uphill battle.

When you step out of the restaurant, leaving the Jazz and the smell of pasta behind, you pause. It’s a bit of an unsettling realization to come to, but you don’t want the night to end.

Hangman stops a pace or two behind you, tipping his head back into the breeze.

He looks younger like this, out of his uniform, with a blush painted on his cheeks by the wine, with the wind tousling his hair. All his edges blurred into something almost gentle. Boyish.

Calling him Hangman seems wrong.

Jake, you think, and something deep inside of you aches. Jake.

Smiling, he turns to you. “Do you need a ride home?”

You don’t trust your own voice, so you just nod.

“Alright.” He starts towards his car, then immediately stops. “Actually… do you mind taking a walk on the beach? I think I should sober up a little more.”

No, you don’t mind one bit, and that’s the danger of it all.

“Fine,” you agree. You mean for it to be clipped, but instead, it comes out like a squeak.

Jake, who doesn’t seem to notice your tone, smiles and leads the way down a trodden path that takes you by the restaurant’s trash cans and then onto the sand of the beach.

It’s colder here, enough that you wrap your arms around your torso to leech off your own body warmth.

Jake is already halfway out of his jacket before you begin protesting.

“Come on,” he says. “I know you don’t believe it, but my mother actually did raise me to be a gentleman. I keep telling you.”

So you let him drape the jacket over your shoulders, and suddenly you’re enveloped in his scent, and your mouth is dry, and your stomach clenches.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

You walk along the beach for a while in perfect silence. The wind dances through your hair, the air smells crisp and fresh and salty, and the waves roll in from the sea, white foam that nearly licks at your feet.

It’s peaceful. Serene. It’s dangerous because it feels so much like a date, and you want to hold Jake’s hand so bad, and he’s almost devastatingly handsome in this light, but you ignore it. Look straight ahead and pretend you’re not feeling it.

Finally, Jake stops and sits down in the sand. Hesitantly, you follow his example, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?” Jake asks, staring out at the waves.

You frown. “Seriously?”

“What? That’s a normal question people ask their friends.”

You don’t know about that, but you do answer, “I don’t know. I don’t really remember?”

“Not at all?”

You pause. It’s almost too easy to be truthful with him, and with a start, you realize that you trust him.

God, you must be an idiot.

“I used to…” You clear your throat. “Well, there was this house on my street back in Seattle. A house with a blue door. I used to dream about buying it one day and living there with my husband, and my kids, and our dog.”

You half expect him to laugh at you, call you childish or naive, or a romantic. But he doesn’t. He just listens, face utterly void of judgment, and your stomach swoops.

“Do you still want that?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. “But it was the first real dream of my life. I don’t know if you ever really grow out of those.”

Jake nods. “Yeah, you probably don’t, right?” He’s quiet for a moment, and then he continues, “Mine was becoming spiderman. Honestly, I’d still give my right arm for it.”

And it actually makes you laugh. An honest, genuine sound that echoes across the beach.

Jake’s smile is brilliant in the night. 

“I like that sound,” he says softly. “Do it again.”

To cover up the feeling rising up in you - something you’d describe as bashfulness, if that wasn’t so disgustingly ridiculous, something that warms you inside out - you feign nonchalance, say, “Well, tell me something funny, then.”

“Something funny, yeah?” He leans back in the sand with a sigh as you nod, balancing his weight on his elbows, and turns his head up at the night sky like he’ll find inspiration up there. “I thought Star Wars was real for like… an embarrassingly long time.”

“What?”

“Yeah, like, full on.” He nods, face almost solemn. “I looked Han Solo up in history books and shit, I got so confused when I couldn’t find him. I was just like, do people know about this, like, they have to know about this, like about little green Yoda guys and….”

You can’t help it. You start dissolving into laughter halfway through, and Jake looks up at you, grinning.

“Are you serious?” you ask through your laughter. The thought of little Jake thumbing through history books frantically as he searches for Han Solo - who you just know was his childhood idol - is almost too much.

He shrugs. “That’ll be my secret. Did make you laugh, though.”

“Yeah, you did,” you admit, and then you let yourself fall into the sand beside him. It’s cool, grains catching in your hair, and you’re pretty sure you’ll spend the rest of your week trying to get them out again, but it’s worth it for the view. 

The night sky stretches endless above you. You’re close enough to the sea and far enough from San Diego that the light pollution has bled out here, that you can see the stars twinkling up there. A million miles away, yet so close you think you could pluck one if you just stretched out your arm.

“Maybe I should be a teacher,” you say, and then freeze up. Because, what the fuck? Where did that come from?

You’ve never even thought about that, but it just burst out of you, like something you’ve been carrying in your chest your whole life.

Awash in the surprise, you can do nothing but blink for a while.

“A teacher?” Jake repeats. “What subject?”

“English,” you say immediately. Okay, well. Guess we’re having epiphanies about ourselves then. “It’s just that… well, I… I like tutoring Amelia. It’s my favorite time of the week, I think. And I… I love all those books other people are forced to read. I even like Catcher in the Rye, can you believe it?”

“Even Catcher in the Rye?” Jake says, mocking you by letting out a scandalized gasp and slapping a hand over his mouth. You laugh and shove at his shoulder. 

Grinning, he says, “I think you’d be a great teacher.”

And your heart beats faster. “Yeah?”

He nods. “I think you’d be great at anything you put your mind to, really. But I saw you talk about that book earlier… it’s like you were glowing. You love that. People are always best when they do what they love.”

It’s unexpectedly wise. It knocks the wind right out of you.

You need to take a moment to collect yourself, avoid the intent gaze of his eyes that makes it feel almost like he knows you.

“Have you always wanted to be a pilot, then?” you ask.

Jake shrugs, a movement you feel more than see, his arm moving up where he’s pressed against yours, shoulder digging a deeper furrow into the sand.

“Maybe. I guess.” You think he won’t say anything else, but after another moment, he goes on, “My father is a general, you know? It’s sort of a family tradition.”

You didn’t know that, but it sort of makes sense. Another shade to color Jake Seresin in with.

“He must be really proud of you,” you say, thinking of your own father, who hasn’t called in months.

Jake is quiet for so long that you glance over to check that he hasn’t fallen asleep. His eyes are open, though, and his throat bobs as he swallows.

“Not really,” he says, finally. “My father always thought I was a disappointment. I remember one time in middle school, there was this boy… He was a real bully. He liked to slam me into lockers, and one time he broke my nose. My dad just said it was my own fault for not fighting back.”

His jaw moves as he grinds his teeth.

“Nothing I do ever really… is enough for him.”

There’s something in his voice you never thought Jake capable of: defeat.

Your chest aches with it.

“Not even when you graduated Top Gun?” you ask carefully. “You were top of your class, right?”

Jake shrugs again. “He didn’t come to the ceremony. Mom said he was sick, but… I don’t think that’s true.” He exhales, and it’s a shaky, fragile sound. “Sometimes… sometimes I think he’d only ever be proud of me if I got shot down. If I died in combat or something.”

Your reaction is visceral. Heart plummeting, stopping, arm jerking against him.

“Don’t…” you begin, then shake your head vehemently. “Don’t say that, please.”

He glances at you, looking almost surprised at your outburst.

“It’s not…” You hesitate. “It’s not worth it. Not if he doesn’t recognize it already.”

“Recognize what?” 

And Jake won’t take his eyes away from you. You feel like you’re going to fall apart.

“That you’re… that you’re a good pilot.”

You swallow, immediately embarrassed by your own words. You can’t even look him in the eyes.

Jake raises an eyebrow. “You’ve never even seen me fly.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, and mean every word, “I know.”

It’s not enough. It’s way too much.

It doesn’t say half of the things you want to tell him, at the same time as it reveals much more than you want it to.

And you remember: It was nothing. Shrugging off everything he made you feel. Laughing as if nothing had happened. Telling you without as many words that you were just another conquest, just another girl in a line of girls, nothing special about you, nothing important, nothing relevant.

You want to hate him, yet something about Jake makes it impossible. Something about him keeps drawing you back. Even after everything that’s happened, wanting him is like a bad habit you can’t shake.

You can’t explain that.

But Jake reaches out to you and slots his fingers into the spaces between your own. Squeezes once.

Your fear got in your way. Even now, it chokes all words from you.

But that’s fine. You think, somehow, Jake understands anyway.

He’s quiet for a while and then says, “Why are you here, then? In Fightertown, I mean.”

It’s a good question, one you don’t know how to answer. 

Finally, you say, “My mother died.” 

And then you freeze. It’s the first time you’ve ever said it out loud, and suddenly it’s real in a way it wasn’t before. 

Haltingly, almost shell-shocked by it, you continue, “And it… it made me realize that I’d built my whole life around her. And when she was gone… well, that life was gone, too. Like that dream about the house with the blue door… It didn’t seem to matter anymore. So I just left. I just… drove until I got to Fightertown, and then I decided to stay because… I don’t know. There was nowhere else to go, anyway.”

Tears pool in your eyes, and you concentrate hard to blink them away.

“And do you like it here?”

You’re so grateful. You’re so grateful he doesn’t tell you that he’s sorry about your mother, that he doesn’t judge you for not having had a life apart from her. That he doesn’t ask about your father or your friends. So grateful that somehow, again, he seems to understand what you need: Not the past, but the present.

“Yeah,” you say and are surprised to find you’re telling the truth. “Yeah, it’s not so bad.”

Then you glance at him. “Unless the most obnoxious naval aviator in the history of the world almost knocks you over in a bar, of course.”

Jake laughs, a carefree, bellowing sound that has you feeling a little bit like you’re soaring.

“Only because you’re so pretty, sweetheart,” he says, winking at you.

And it’s toeing the line. Not really friendly, not really platonic, but so Hangman, so Jake, that you don’t even mind.

You smile back, and then you turn your eyes up to that sky, to those stars, and listen to the whisper of the waves, holding tight to Jake’s hand.

+

The thing about fear is that it’s not a one-time situation. Overcoming it once doesn’t get rid of it - it just goes stagnant for a while, lulls you into a false sense of security, and then it pounces again.

So walking into the Hard Deck is a little easier, but the rest of it is just as hard. Reassuring yourself that you’re wanted here, that you’re not intruding, that nobody will look at you weirdly.

Hangman and Phoenix invited you. Separately, you tell yourself. You know the owner. You’re gonna be okay.

You can’t spot any familiar faces when you finally get the courage to make it from the front porch into the actual bar. It’s all just strangers mingling.

Mostly looking for a little bit of liquid courage and something to occupy your time with until the others arrive, you make your way to the bar and flag down one of the unfamiliar bartenders to order a cocktail.

After, you turn to people watch. They’re everywhere, laughing and flirting, people lining up shots in neat rows on bar tops, people knocking back shots, people playing darts and pools and footsie, people laughing with their friends or at their friends. It’s almost shocking, all that display of life. It makes you think of yourself, alone in your room for days, weeks, years. How much did you miss?

“Can I buy you another?”

The guy is handsome. That’s the first thing you notice. Not Hangman-level handsome, but… that’s not the sort of thoughts you should be having anyway. Curls, kind eyes, a dimple on his cheek. Cute. The kind of guy you might have stared at in the supermarket a few months ago, would have lost your mind over if he had smiled at you in the frozen foods section.

“Oh,” you say as he slides up to you, folding and bracing his arms on the tabletop. “Uhm…”

“No strings attached,” he promises, holding up his hands like he wants you to check that he’s not carrying any weapons. “You just looked lonely.”

You laugh, feeling a little bit out of your depth. “Did I really?”

He nods, eyes twinkling, and says, “Yep. I could tell all the way from the other end of the bar.”

That’s probably not a good sign, you think. Gotta start working on my poker face.

“I’m Jason, by the way,” the guy introduces himself, offering you a hand.

This feels a lot like a precipice.

Part of you knows you should give in. Let this guy buy you a drink, let him flirt with you, let him take you home. Get an ego boost and have a nice time. This, you think, was what Penny meant all the time she talked about getting the sexual frustration out of your system. 

Not whatever the fuck that twisted thing you and Hangman had going on was. Definitely not that, because it didn’t get a single thing out of your system. In fact, it only ended up injecting more into your system. More worries, more insecurities, more pain.

And it’s over, you know it is. He listened when you asked him to stop, and he’s made it abundantly clear he’s not interested in you, that you were less than a fling, that you were just a possibility that never came true. That you were nothing. And yet… you’re not ready to let it go. To let go of whatever sliver of hope you’ve held onto.

But then you think of Jake at the restaurant, how easily he’d brushed it all off, how he’d said friends. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it, not really. He’d just wanted to get it out of the way. And he’s so confident, so sure of what he wants, and if he wanted you… then he would have gone after you by now.

You know he would have.

So you smile and say, “Are you a naval aviator?”

Jason seems surprised by that, but he nods his head. “Yes, Ma’am. Just graduated Top Gun a few weeks ago.”

“Oh no,” you say. “That’s not good.”

Jason laughs. “Not the reaction I usually get. Are you not a big fan of pilots, then?”

“Not particularly,” you say. “I don’t think they’re good for my mental health. Or the environment.” 

And then he laughs, and his dimple distracts you, and it’s light and not heavy, and it feels simple in a way you’ve been missing.

So you let him buy you a drink. And you let him flirt with you. And you try, try, try your best to forget about the anxiety gnawing at your bones, about the voice telling you it’s wrong, about everything that’s holding you back.

You just want to be normal. You just want to have fun. You just want to be free of the ghosts haunting you.

And in a way, it’s easy. Jason isn’t aggressive like Jake was, isn’t so handsome it seems like a miracle he’s even looking at you. He’s nice and funny and a little bit boring, and that’s good, boring is good because boring is normal, it’s trivial, it’s safe.

Hesitantly, you place a hand on Jason’s arm and bask in the way it feels when he smiles at you.

And then the intrusive thought comes, unbidden, unstoppable, bleak: If Jake were here…

You banish the idea as soon as it crops up.

It was nothing.

If Jake were here, he would not care.

+

Jake is having an aneurism.

That’s the only logical explanation for any of this. He feels like somebody is peeling his skin off like he’s an orange.

“Yo, Hangman!” 

A hand starts wiping up and down through the air right in front of him rapidly, and Jake blinks against the blur of colors it leaves on his vision.

“There you are, dude,” Payback says, laughing. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for like 5 minutes.”

“Yeah, well,” Jake mutters, turning back to his friends. “You’re just not that interesting, Payback.”

Way less interesting than that scene unfolding near the bar, at least. But also decidedly less prone to provoke Jake into committing arson, so probably the safer choice.

“What are you looking at anyway?” Payback inquires, getting on his tippy-toes to look across everybody else’s heads.

Jake just manages to catch him by a shoulder and force him in the opposite direction. The last thing he needs is to get shit for this, too. He’s already got enough to deal with by just trying to untangle the thicket of his own emotions.

“I’m looking for Bob. We shouldn’t leave minors unaccompanied,” he lies, forcing a nonchalance he doesn’t feel into his voice.

From where she is leaning against the vintage Pacman machine, Phoenix gives him a look like she isn’t buying anything that he’s putting down. But she doesn’t point it out, and Jake sort of feels like weeping in gratitude.

He takes a seat at the table next to Coyote and starts playing with the label on his beer bottle, mainly so he doesn’t feel the urge to start looking for you in the mess of the crowd again. The paper is soaked through by the condensation, crumbling into tiny balls that stick between his fingers when he rubs too hard.

“So, day after tomorrow, huh?” Fanboy says. “Gonna know our fate. You nervous, Hangman?”

The worst part is, Hangman - Hangman, of all people, whose life for the past ten years has revolved around little more than the Navy, than his plane, than his performance up in the air - has pretty much forgotten that the day after tomorrow they’d announce who was about to go on the mission that could potentially become the most important of his career. It’s just that there are much more imminent, pressing things happening right here, right now. Like some dude chatting you up with what are probably the sleaziest lines you’ve ever heard just a few steps away.

He clears his throat. “Why would I be nervous?” he asks, but it lacks his usual edge. “I’m going anyways, no question about it.”

“I don’t know,” Rooster interjects. “You’ve been flying sort of shitty the past week.”

Jake’s fingers clench around the neck of the bottle.

“No shittier than you, Bradshaw. You fly like you’re trying to let senior citizens pass through traffic.”

Payback frowns. “You okay, Hang? That barely made any sense.”

Truthfully, Jake is so distracted he can’t even concentrate enough to come up with something that’ll really piss Rooster off. Not when you’re right there, and he’s not the one making you laugh. Not when he asked you to be friends while really all he can think about is you underneath him with that glazed look in your eyes he’s put there once before, you moaning his name, you in his shirt, you with your mouth wrapped around his…

“Hangman!” That’s Phoenix, now sitting next to Rooster, looking like she’s about an inch from slapping him over the head with her beer bottle. “I asked you a question.”

“Huh?”

Everybody’s staring at him. He’s still trying not to look at the bar.

“I said,” Phoenix repeats, speaking deliberately slow like she’s scared he won’t understand otherwise, “that I don’t want to see any physical fights. So we’re all going to accept the decision tomorrow. Get it, Bagman?”

He shrugs. Right now, he’s so decidedly uninterested in who goes on that mission he can’t imagine even getting upset about it.

“Fine by me,” he mutters and moves to take a sip of his beer. Only, when he tips his head back, it brings the bar right into his line of sight.

And there you are, sitting almost in the exact same spot you were the very first night he approached you. Back in one of those dresses, the ones that drive him insane, the ones playing much more prominent roles in his late-night fantasies than he’d ever like to admit. Legs crossed primly and tucked to the side, all that smooth, soft skin, and Jake can’t stop himself, can’t not imagine getting to run his mouth down the line of that leg, can’t not imagine taking that dress off you, can’t not imagine making you whimper for him, again and again and…

A pale hand lands on the small of your back, just half an inch from where the dress drops low to expose that skin he was just thinking about, and Jake feels like somebody sucker-punched him.

“Okay, somebody switch seats with me right now,” he says, and his voice has climbed to unprecedented heights. It just bursts out of him.

It startles Bob so much he almost drops his beer. Liquid goes sloshing all over Coyote’s lap, who yelps, jumps up, and dumps half his whiskey over Payback in the process. In the ensuing mayhem, everybody seems to forget about the culprit.

Everybody. Everybody, except Phoenix.

She looks at him with the sort of knowing, accusatory eyes that make him think he should be on his knees begging for forgiveness or something.

Discomfort makes him shift his weight in his seat.

And then a hand ghosts over his shoulder, fingernails painted a delicate pink, and for a second, he hopes, thinks he’s going to turn around and find you there, smiling at him, eyes shining, but it’s a different face that greets him. His heart, soaring for a moment, plummets to the ground.

He’s seen the girl around the bar a few times before. She’s pretty. The type he’d go for usually, the kind of pretty thing he’d fuck and leave and never think about again.

“Hi,” she says, smiling in a way that makes the corners of her painted mouth curl up like the lower half of a heart. “I’ve seen you around. Can I buy you a drink?”

It’s the sort of straightforward behavior he prefers usually. Hangman has never been much for playing it coy, for insecurity. He likes someone who goes after what they want, who knows what they want. At least he’s always thought he did.

For a second, he can see it: a little bit of flirting, some coy touches, letting her take him home, getting his rocks off, then disappearing forever.

But his heart just isn’t in it. The whole thing feels empty. Useless. Wrong.

So he shrugs her hand off, gives her a polite smile, and says, “Maybe some other time.”

The girl is drunk enough that she doesn’t care much, just shrugs and saunters off to find someone more accepting of her advances.

When Jake turns to face his friends again, Coyote is gaping at him with his mouth hanging open.

“What?” Jake asks, for the first time in his life actually uncomfortable with the amount of attention he’s receiving.

“Are you like… sick?”

“Why?”

“Cause you just…” Payback looks seriously concerned. “You just turned down a pretty girl, man. Are you feeling okay?”

And that’s when Jake realizes what just happened. With a dawning sort of horror, he sets his bottle down on the table and stares at the condensation rings, the crumpled napkins, the half-eaten bowl of peanuts. His head is spinning.

So, like… what the fuck?

Since Jake finally got to move out of his parent’s house, since he got out from under the gaze of his father - always judging, always finding him lacking - since he joined the Navy and found out that he’s one of the most talented pilots they’ve ever had, he’s had a pretty good idea of who he is.

Arrogant, sure. Cocky, even. Abrasive, at times, calculated, cunning. But with enough skill to back all of it up a hundred times. He knows he’s handsome, knows he can get any girl he wants, and he enjoys that. Basks in it. Based half his personality on it.

So Hangman knows who he is. Knew it perfectly well, right up until the moment he met you.

And just like that, he’s going not just after an inexperienced girl but a girl who might not even like him, and he keeps telling himself it’s just about the chase, just because you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, and there’s something exciting about getting someone who doesn’t make it easy, but it’s starting to sound like a bad excuse, because then why did he ask you to be friends just so he could stay close to you, why did he tell you things he’s never told a soul, why did he feel like the earth was shattering beneath him when you said he was a good pilot? Why can’t he stop thinking of you?

“Hangman, are you having a stroke?” 

Even Rooster sounds genuinely concerned, but Jake doesn’t hear him. Not really, at least.

Because up at the bar, the guy has leaned in even closer, leaned all the way into your space (and Jake just knows he stinks of beer and sweat, and his palms are probably damp where he’s groping your waist), and is whispering something into your ear and you’re giggling, and Jake sees full-on, deep, deep scarlet.

He’s out of his seat before he can register it, halfway through the bar before he remembers moving. Elbowing people out of the way and probably spilling more than one drink in his path. He doesn’t care. In fact, he doesn’t even notice.

All his attention is laser-focused on you and all the places that dirtbag is touching you.

“Alright,” he says much too forcefully when he finally reaches the bar and slaps his hands onto the countertop with a noise so loud it almost has you jumping out of your seat. “I think I told Penny all her drinks are on my tab. Like perpetually. Eternally. Whatever, pick one.”

The poor, unassuming bartender stares at him. “I… Who are you, Sir, like I…?”

Jake ignores him. He turns to face you and the douchebag, both of you staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Hi,” he says, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. Now he’s a little concerned his smile might look like a serial killer about to woo his newest victim.

“Uhm,” you say slowly, glancing at the guy behind you, “Hangman….”

“Sweetheart,” he interrupts before you can even get out a complete sentence, “I told you you can call me Jake.”

You pause. Then you start again, “Jake….”

“I don’t think we’ve met.” He leans around you, offering a hand. “I’m Hangman.”

The guy blinks. “Yeah, hi. Jason. Nice to meet you.”

Jake nods, shakes his hand, then turns to you. Bends down to press a kiss to your cheek, lingers for too long. Draws back and basks in the stunned look on your face, the wide eyes, just for a moment.

“You sleep well after last night?” he asks. “You must have been exhausted.”

And he’s laying it on thick, he knows he is. Leaves his hand resting on your shoulder for too long, lets his thumb stroke over your collarbone in a slow, drawn-out movement just for the hell of it.

He can’t explain it. It’s just… it’s just that he can’t forget the guy’s hands all over you. It’s just that he can’t forget your face last night, bathed in the moonlight, your laughter that made him think his chest was caving in. It’s just that he feels if somebody else makes you laugh like that, he may never be happy again.

“I don’t…” You blink up at him, face almost entirely blank. “What?”

One of his hands lands on your thigh, just above the knee, half on the fabric of your dress, half on the warm skin of your leg. And it’s pushing it, he knows that, but it’s not like he decided to touch you. It’s more of an instinct, a reassurance to himself. You’re there. You haven’t left.

Not yet, anyway.

He can see the way Jason looks at you. He knows that look, knows exactly what he wants to do, and it lights a fire inside of him, something pathetic and possessive and uncalled for.

And all he can think is: That guy won’t treat you right, I can do it better, I know what you like, I know it, I see it, I know you…

But apart from his own ego, apart from the cocky part of him that knows he’s got you pegged, knows he could set you off and have you coming on his tongue, his fingers, his cock quicker than you could make sense of, there’s something else there too. A strange, unfamiliar protectiveness. Something that makes him think: What if this guy hurts you?

Not because you’re fragile, not because you don’t know yourself, but because Jake knows you. Has seen you. 

Knows this runs deeper than anything else, even if he doesn’t know what that means. Even if it scares him shitless.

He can’t let some other guy take you home. He just can’t.

“Hangman,” Jason says, leaning across you and giving Jake a small, almost shy smile. “Man, you’re a legend.”

“I…” Jake was prepared to hit him with something else bordering on rude, but this throws him for a loop. “What?”

“At Top Gun. Everybody talks about you all the time. It’s an honor to meet you.” 

The guy’s eyes are positively glowing, his cheeks ruddy with alcohol and excitement. Jake, who was hellbent on hating him, suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

Between them, you’ve gone very still.

“Oh,” Jake says, “well…”

“I’m sorry, by the way.” The guy - boy, some spiteful part of Jake things - gestures in your general direction. For a second, Jake feels indignant on your behalf before he realizes he’s the one responsible for this. “I didn’t realize this was your girl. Backing up right away. Sorry.”

With raised hands, he disappears into the crowd, blending seamlessly into the sea of uniforms.

Jake’s triumph is short-lived.

You’ve slid half out of your seat, gathering your bag from where you’ve draped it over the back of the chair by the strap.

“Where are you going, sweetheart?” he asks, reaching out to help you but withdrawing his hands immediately when you whirl to face him.

There’s something on your face, something he’s never seen before, and with his stomach dropping down to his knees, he wonders suddenly and belatedly if he may have miscalculated severely.

That night at the bar, when you’d walked up to him and told him to leave you alone, it had been a little like somebody had pulled the ground right from beneath his feet. Like that magic trick with the tablecloth, only this one had been bad and botched and bungled, all the china and the glasses and the cutlery falling and smashing.

And yet the way you’d looked at him… He could have sworn you weren’t telling the truth. 

Jake isn’t dumb, fuck what Phoenix says, and he’s been with enough girls to recognize desire when he sees it. So he was almost entirely sure you were lying when you told him to leave you alone.

But then… what if that had just been his own hope? Building nothing into something. Wanting you to want him the same way he wants you.

In the end, what he thought you wanted didn’t matter. All he had to go off were your words, and those were clear enough. The choice needed to be yours, or it meant nothing.

And Jake was a lot - bastard, asshole, fuckboy - but he wasn’t going to push you into something you didn’t want. Never.

So he’d let up. He’d listened to you. He’d tried to pull back. Even as it had hurt him in a way he could not explain. Even as it had broken him apart.

And then Maverick and Penny had to meddle, and he’d gotten to know you in a way he hadn’t planned for at all. Had learned that he didn’t just want you, he liked you. Wanted to keep listening to you as you rambled on and on in intelligible loops about books you liked. Wanted to read them, wanted to talk to you about them. Wanted to make those dreams come true: buy you that house with the blue door, give you that dog.

He can’t understand it. He can’t explain it. All he knows is he wants to be close to you.

But with the way you’re looking at him right now, pure, unadulterated anger on your face, he realizes you might not feel the same way at all.

“What the fuck, Hangman?”

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused. “What did I do?”

This is not his day at all. Or his week. In fact, he’s not sure it has been his month.

You frown at him for a moment, completely silent, and it unsettles Jake in a way he can’t explain. 

He’s always known who he is, has been so sure of it, but now, with you… It’s like you make him question everything.

“I’m going home,” you say, pushing past him and heading for the door.

He’s too dazed to move for a moment, and then he’s chasing after you, trying to recapture his earlier speed but failing. It’s gotten even more crowded in here, every available inch of space occupied with sweaty bodies. He calls your name, but you don’t turn.

By the time he catches up to you, you’re out in the parking lot.

“Sweetheart!” he calls.

You whirl on him with a murderous expression on your face. He stops dead in his tracks.

“Don’t call me that,” you say. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Since you first met, the two of you have been exchanging sharp remarks. You have teased, you have taunted, you have circled around each other like wild cats around prey. Always toeing the line between flirting and fighting. Always toeing the line between foreplay and sparring. A tightrope act.

But this tips the scales decidedly. There’s nothing coquettish about it, nothing good-natured. The words have teeth, have fangs, have claws. They sink into his heart with perfect precision.

“I…” he begins, but you don’t let him finish.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I was…” He clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. Tries to grin but thinks it might end up as more of a grimace. “I was saying hello.”

You shake your head before he’s finished his sentence. “No, you weren’t. You were ruining my night. You always… you always have to ruin my nights.”

And wow. Okay. That one hurt.

“I just…” Jake realizes he might have to explain this to you. Or at least attempt to, since he doesn’t even know what his explanation would be. “That’s not a good guy.”

You glance back at the bar, and an incredulous expression spreads across your face. 

“That?” you repeat, voice rising. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah!”

“You don’t even know him.”

“You don’t either!”

“So? I wasn’t… I wasn’t about to marry him.”

Jake’s chest feels tight. He’s breathless when he asks, “What were you going to do with him, then?”

“I was…” You shake your head suddenly, breaking off halfway through the sentence, changing course. “That’s none of your business!”

“Yeah, it is!” he protests, but he knows he’s in the wrong. Still, he can’t stop himself. “He’s not a good guy.”

“Oh my god!” You throw your hands into the air, and he’s never seen you so upset. Everything that came before now seems only like a crude imitation. This, though… this is true, genuine anger. “Stop it. He’s… he’s just a cocky pilot, you’re not that different….”

Somehow, the comparison has Jake clenching his teeth. He amends, “He’s not good for you, then.”

For a moment, your face goes slack, and he knows he’s just said the wrong thing.

“That is notyour decision,” you say, voice suddenly quiet and all the more dangerous for it. “That’s no one’s decision but my own.”

And God, if Jake doesn’t know that. 

You’ll always make your own choices. He hasn’t had a shred of an illusion to the opposite even for a moment, hasn’t even wanted it any other way. You will always go your own way.

You’re so much stronger than you realize. Going on after losing your mother. Giving up a whole life. Starting over a million miles away without family, without friends, without anything but yourself.

It’s what he admires. It’s what drives him insane.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he says because it’s the truth. “You’re my friend.”

Something on your face shatters. 

“Friend,” you whisper dispassionately. “Sure.”

You rub your hand over your face, and suddenly you look so tired. All he wants is to wrap you in his arms, tug you closer, take you home. Make sure you’re okay.

“Hangman,” you say softly, almost gently. “I think this was a mistake. I don’t think I can be your friend.”

And it’s fear coursing through him. Naked, unmistakable fear.

If he can’t see you again, what will he do? This new Jake, the one who’s unsure about everything unless he’s right next to you, that new Jake… what will he do?

How can he go back to how he used to be when it’s like slipping into a costume that doesn’t fit anymore?

“My name is Jake,” he says because he doesn’t know what else to do. Because he needs to hear you say it. “I want you to call me Jake.”

“Stop it!” Your voice is louder again, an edge of desperation creeping into it. “Everybody else calls you Hangman, who cares if I….”

“You’re not everybody else!” It just… slips out. And then it’s out in the open, and he can’t believe he said it, doesn’t know where it came from, only knows that it’s the truth. “Not to me.”

You’re staring at him. Chest rising and falling rapidly, fingers tangled in the straps of your bag.

And you’re so beautiful, even in this empty parking lot, even in the unflattering light of the street lamps. Even with the sweat pooling at your hairline and the anger in your eyes.

“Hangman,” you say, “don’t.”

But he’s shaking his head. He let you go once, but now… now he has to… he has to…

“You’re special,” he says, even as you’re shaking your head. “You are to me, sweetheart, you are, you….”

“You said it meant nothing,” you blurt out, then shut your mouth with an audible click of your teeth as if you wish you could clamp the words back in somehow.

Jake blinks. “What?”

He can see your throat move as you swallow.

You take a moment, teeth sinking into your lower lip, and then you say, “That night when I told you to leave me alone. You told Coyote that this… thing between us. That it was nothing.”

Jake inhales. Exhales. His mind is blank.

“I… I did?” he asks, words slow, sluggish, like he’s thrusting them forward through the mud.

Your face falls. You say, voice almost a whisper, “You don’t even remember, do you?”

He wants to say no, I do, of course, I do. He wants to protest.

But if there’s one thing he can’t do, it’s lie to you.

Truth is, he doesn’t know at all what he said. The moments after your confrontation in the bar are shrouded in a fog of confusion for him. He was just trying to make sense of what you’d said, untangle the mess of his mind. He was just trying to save face.

It’s not nothing, he should tell you. It was never nothing.

But then, if it’s not nothing… what is it? This thing between us, you’d called it.

Jake doesn’t have an answer. He doesn’t even understand why he can’t just let you go the way he usually does. He could just turn around, go back inside, find some other pretty girl, but something keeps him rooted to the spot.

I think of you when I go to sleep and when I’m touching myself, and I can’t stop thinking about you. I carry you with me up into the plane, into the sky, into the clouds. I want to sit with you in bars and in restaurants and on beaches. I want to hold your hand. I want to kiss you. I want, I want, I want…

There’s pain on your face, something raw, something real.

Jake can’t breathe.

“I’m leaving,” you say, and then you just stand there for a moment, looking at him almost like you expect him to say something.

He seems to have lost all ability to speak. You purse your lips, your eyes waterlogged, and then you turn on your heel and walk to the car.

Jake stands in the gravel of the parking lot until the headlights of your car have faded into the dark of the night. Then he trots back into the bar blindly, finds their now mostly deserted table at the back, and slumps into a chair.

He feels empty.

Phoenix’s face appears in his vision after what could have been five minutes or five hours, almost comically large.

“I think I’m having a heart attack,” Jake says, but his voice sounds like a stranger’s.

Immediately, Phoenix squats down to look at him better. “What?”

He points at his chest, where it feels like a tiger is on a rampage. “It hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“My chest.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then he says, “Phoenix, I think I fucked up. Like… big time.”

Her face goes from mildly annoyed to honestly worried. She asks, a tinge of panic edging into her voice, “Did you drink too much? Hangman?”

He shakes his head. “I think I hurt her. I don’t know, I… I think I fucked it up.”

She searches his face for a moment, and then she’s straightening up, taking Hangman by the arm and pulling him out of his chair. Her grip is like a vice around his wrist, and he yelps.

“Alright,” she says, “you’re coming with me. Now.”

Jake would have protested, but the look Phoenix gives him shuts him right up. If there’s anybody he’s ever met capable of coldblooded homicide, it’s Natasha Trace.

So he lets himself be tugged into the last corner not yet wholly occupied by people past the halfway point to intoxication.

Phoenix lets go of his wrist in favor of stemming her hands into her hips. He’s pretty sure he’ll find bruises on his skin come morning.

“Don’t,” she says.

“Don’t what?” Jake asks, even though he has a pretty sure idea where this is going.

“Don’t… meddle, okay. You had your chance, you blew it. Let her move on.”

“It’s not…” He struggles. “It’s not like that. We’re friends.”

“Friends,” Phoenix repeats. God, she really is capable of violence, he knows it, and she’s not far from resorting to it. “Are you stupid, Hangman?”

He opens his mouth, but she’s already plowing on.

“Friends don’t look at each other like they’re about to rip their clothes off and go at it in crowded bars, Jacob.”

Jacob. The last time somebody called him that was when his mom caught him trying to sneak out of the window at sixteen to go see a band with his first girlfriend. He got grounded for three weeks.

Somehow, he thinks Phoenix won’t be that merciful.

“Like… obviously you have some kind of feelings for her, but….”

He doesn’t even hear the rest of what she says. Her mouth keeps moving, but none of her words reach his ears. All he can hear is a high, whistling noise cutting clean through his eardrums.

“Hold on,” he interrupts, “I don’t have feelings for her.”

Phoenix pauses for a moment, staring at him like he’s trying to convince her the earth is flat.

“Jake,” she says - not Hangman, not Bagman, not even Jacob, and hoooh boy, he’s in for it now - slowly, “don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” he says.

Phoenix blinks. Takes a moment. Another. Then she says, almost carefully, “Jake, you can’t be that stupid. Please tell me you’re not that stupid.”

It’s not the first time she’s called him stupid, but it might be the first time she actually means it.

And Jake would protest, only he feels pretty stupid right about now, too.

“Please…” She touches her forehead like she has a headache and exhales loudly, slowly. “Please tell me you’re not honestly stupid enough not to know.”

“Know what?” Jake asks, and he’s never felt less like himself.

He’s in control of things. He takes risks gladly, but they’re always calculated. Things don’t just… fly under his radar.

But right now, he feels like he missed something profound.

Phoenix looks at him with what could be either pity or actual hatred.

“Jake,” she says, enunciating each word with perfect precision, “you’re in love with her.”

“I don’t know her,” he says, almost automatically, and he’s so dizzy.

Phoenix waves his words away with a quick jerk of her hand. 

“There’s a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone, Jake,” she tells him. “When you’re with her, how do you feel?”

“I feel…” And he can’t believe he’s talking about this, but in a way, it makes sense. Maybe Phoenix is the only person he could ever tell this. Phoenix, who has always seen through him and all his bravado. “When I’m with her, it’s like… like I can just be myself, you know? And I want… I want to know her. Everything about her, even the bad things, but I want her to know me, too. Not just Hangman but… Jake. And I want to… I just want to be with her all the time. I want to tell her about, like, everything, even the little things that I’d never tell somebody else, and I…. When I’m with her, it doesn’t feel like I need to prove anything. It’s like I can just be. I’ve never… never felt that before.”

His voice trails off.

The irritation has bled out of Phoenix’s face, making way for something softer, smoother, something almost tender. She puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Bagman,” she says, voice halfway to affectionate, “you know what that means.”

For a few moments, he just breathes.

And yeah, he does. In a way, maybe he’s known for a while now, at least since the set-up, and he just didn’t want to admit it to himself. That it’s more than just wanting to fuck you. That it’s so much more than nothing. That it’s so much, it scares him.

It wasn’t quick, it wasn’t instantaneous. It crept up on him. You permeated his life in stages, and now you’re everywhere.

At first, he just thought you were pretty, thought he could get into your pants and out of your life in the span of a night. But you gave as good as you got, kept pushing back, and suddenly it was like a personal quest to get you to give in. You looked up at him on the beach behind the Hard Deck through eyes as scared as they were determined, and something shifted. Not profound yet, not significant, but the first domino to drop in a long, long, long line.

And somewhere, at some moment, he could no longer pinpoint, the game he’d played had ended, and he hadn’t even noticed. The last domino had toppled.

It was real now. Real and scary and over.

“I’m in love with her?” he says, almost a question with how his voice rises towards the tail-end of the sentence.

Phoenix nods, smiles gently at him. 

“Oh God,” he says. “Then I… then I really fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Phoenix agrees through a breathless laugh. “Yeah, I think you really did.”

+

It’s the hottest day of the year, and the aircon at the gas station breaks down.

The heat is unbearable. You stripped off your employee vest hours ago, but it barely helps. The single fan you found in the back oscillates stale air through the room.

You’re counting down the minutes until the end of your shift, until you can drive aimless circles through town just to bask in the cool of your car. Until you can drown in your own self-pity and another family-size serving of pasta and the dark thoughts swirling around you like storm clouds.

Your boss has disappeared into the back room, and it’s only five more minutes until you’re off, so you trek towards the cold drinks section and wonder if you should spend the few extra dollars on an iced tea. When the bell rings, announcing the arrival of a customer, you’re still standing undecided in front of the opened fridge, letting cool air caress your face.

Phoenix is in civilian clothes, her hair released from its tight bun for the first time. It falls in glossy waves down to her shoulder blades as she smiles at you warmly.

“Hi.”

“Oh.” The sight of her makes something in your stomach clench uncomfortably. Couldn’t she have come in five minutes later? You’d have been gone by then. “Hi…”

“Penny said you’d be here.”

You blink. “You… were you looking for me?”

Phoenix nods and steps up to the register to look at the cheap sunglasses on display.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she says casually.

The fear of it all creeps up on you, and then it envelopes you. You’ve been trying and failing to push it to the very back corners of your mind for the past day, keeping your hands busy in hopes it would keep your head idle. Pretending you weren’t constantly replaying last night in your head - the bar, the parking lot, the anger, and the ridiculousness of it all. Jake saying you’re special, and then not even remembering the moment he’d broken your heart. Looking helpless in a way you’d never seen before.

In the rearview mirror, growing rapidly smaller and further until he disappeared completely, Jake looked almost like a little child.

“You and Hangman had a fight,” Phoenix says, and it’s not even a question. Just a statement.

“Yeah,” you agree because it doesn’t feel like there’s much sense in arguing. And no reason to, either.

Phoenix nods and watches as you round the counter. For some reason, you feel it’s not a bad idea to get some distance between you and her for this conversation. The counter is like a barrier.

“Hangman is…” Phoenix hesitates. “Hangman is an idiot.”

“No, he isn’t.” The words are out before you can stop them, and then frustration almost makes you bite your tongue. “He… he’s actually a pretty smart guy.”

Phoenix raises an eyebrow. “I’ve been told you hate him.”

You swallow, look away. Shrug your shoulders. “No, I… I don’t know.”

None of this matters. After last night, you’re never going to see him again.

For a long, long while, Phoenix is silent. And then she says, “He’s in love with you.”

And it should be earth-shattering, world-stops-spinning, music-stars-playing. But they’re just words.

Your heart is racing.

“He…” You shake your head. It’s a cliff, the plummet beneath you, your fingers gripping the edge for dear life. You want to believe her so very, very badly, but your common sense tells you it can’t be true. “He barely knows me.”

“That’s what he said,” she says, chuckling, then shakes her head. “I know, but… you have to understand… This is something special. I mean, this is Hangman we’re talking about… he doesn’t open up to people.”

You think about sitting side by side out on the beach. Sharing secrets before you let the waves carry them out to sea. Spilling your heart into his hands and trusting him with it. Realizing, suddenly, that he had done the same.

“I think…” Phoenix’s voice has gone very gentle. “I think you’re very similar. You and him.”

A week ago, you would have laughed at her. Just five minutes ago, you wouldn’t have believed her. And now…

You fall.

When you think about it, it’s not so far-fetched. Jake, up in those clouds. You, down on the ground. In the end, you’re both lonely. In the end, you’re both afraid.

“Anyway.” She smiles at you and pushes off the register. “I just thought you might want to say goodbye.”

Something inside you stumbles. 

“Goodbye?” you repeat slowly.

“Yeah, we’re shipping out tomorrow morning.”

“Shipping…” Suddenly, it takes tremendous effort to breathe. “What?”

Phoenix pauses, furrows her eyebrows. “Didn’t Jake tell you? About the mission?”

“What mission?”

Phoenix groans, shaking her head. “See, I told you. He really is an idiot.”

+

Jake looks like he didn’t get a wink of sleep. The dark bags beneath his eyes have bloomed into purplish bruising overnight, and he blinks at you almost owlishly.

 “Why weren’t you going to say goodbye?”

That’s the first thing you say to him, and it’s not at all what you were planning in the car on the way here. It slips out the moment you see him, and your voice isn’t firm or strong at all, it’s a small, fragile thing. A teacup teetering on the edge of a moving tray, about to shatter.

He looks at you like you’re an apparition. “How did you get here?”

“It… Phoenix gave me your address.”

Jake has rented a place on the second floor of a modern apartment complex off base. It’s so much nicer than the house you’re living in, with stairs that don’t creak, no mildew in the hallway, and locks that look like they actually work.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, and you sound out of breath. It’s not even because of the stairs you just took two steps at a time. “Why weren’t you?”

Jake exhales audibly, nods once, and opens the door wider. “You wanna come inside?”

Only now do you notice that he’s shirtless, wearing nothing but gray sweatpants slung almost as low as his swim trunks were that day on the beach. Hastily, you snap your eyes away, head already spinning.

You push past him and into the apartment, careful not to touch any of his skin. Who knows what other unhinged things that might drive you to do?

His apartment is neat, tidy, clean, but that doesn’t surprise you much. It’s also obviously a rental, lacking any personal touches except for a few shoes kicked off haphazardly by the door and his Top Gun diploma and plaque displayed on a dresser. Of course Jake travels with those, you think, almost grinning. He’d never miss out on a chance to show off.

There’s an aircon blasting somewhere, and you almost crumble to your feet with gratitude.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asks, heading towards what you suppose to be the kitchen. “I have… water? I’d offer to make you a Mojito, but I don’t think I have any limes. Or any rum. Or any mint, so…”

“Can you…” You falter and watch as he pauses in the doorway, one hand braced against the wood. “Can you just explain it to me?”

His shoulders lift and lower with his breaths. After a moment that feels endless, he turns to face you.

“Explain it to you?”

You nod. “Why you didn’t tell me. Why you weren’t going to say goodbye.”

He shrugs, unperturbed, but there’s something affective to the movement, something almost performative.

“After last night… I didn’t think you wanted to see me again.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You’re shaking your head, jaw clenching. “Why didn’t you tell me before then? That you’re about to go on some, some… stupid top-secret mission, that you might die, that….”

He interrupts you, “I didn’t tell you because it shouldn’t matter. I’m not…”

“Of course it matters!” Your voice is shaking. “It matters! It changes… everything.”

He squints at you. “How could it change anything?”

“It… it changes things because….” You stumble, try to find the words that elude you. “Because I thought we’d have more time.”

“More time?” Something about his voice is almost hopeful. “I thought you… I didn’t think you wanted to see me again.”

He’s right. You didn’t. At least you thought you didn’t. You thought the best thing you could possibly ever do for yourself, for him, was to stay as far away from Jake Seresin as possible. In a change-your-name-and-leave-the-country kind of way.

And then Phoenix walked into that gas station, and losing him had suddenly seemed so real, had gone from a distant fever dream to reality, and you didn’t have much choice anymore. All you wanted was to see him again. All you wanted was for him to call you sweetheart, smile and flirt and tease. Even if it drove you crazy. Even if it was the last time.

“Hangman…” You shake your head, correct yourself, “Jake, I… Do you like me?”

He looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time since you knocked at his door, and something in his expression changes. Without hesitation, without a slither of doubt in his words, he says, “Of course. Of course, I like you.”

You have to sink your fingernails into your palms to keep yourself grounded, to keep yourself from jumping several paces ahead. In your chest, your heart speeds up.

“And not just…” you pause, the word carnally already on your tongue. “It’s not that you just want to fuck me?”

He’s shaking his head before you’ve finished speaking. “No. Not at all. Yeah, sure, that’s what it was about in the beginning, but then… I just… It started changing, and I’d never felt that, and I… I think I got scared.”

“You got scared?” you ask, not unaware of the note of disbelief in your voice. It’s hard to imagine someone like Jake could ever be scared. Someone so confident, so brilliant.

He raises an eyebrow, and it’s a glimpse of the Jake you know, the one who drives you to the brink of insanity, “I’ll take that shock as a compliment.”

It’s a white-hot relief to find that he can still joke with you. That not all of the relationship you’ve built has washed away in the torrent of the last few weeks. 

“It’s just…” You look for a way to explain it. “I don’t know. You just always seemed like you had everything figured out.”

That makes him laugh, and you stare at his face scrunching up, his eyes shining. He says, “I’ve got nothing figured out. I haven’t even figured out what to eat for dinner tonight.”

You laugh. Even through all of it, he can still make you laugh. Even though nothing is resolved, even though you don’t understand any of it, he can always, always make you laugh. Even when you don’t want to. Even back when you still swore you hated him.

Jake settles down, and something darker crosses his expression. When he speaks next, his voice is almost hesitant.

“I’ve never… I’ve just never done something like this?”

“Like this?” you ask softly. 

Neither of you has ever defined this thing between you. You’re scared now, scared he has a different idea about it. Maybe you don’t want to hear his answer, want to live just a moment longer in this fantasy where Phoenix is right, where he likes you, where he wants you the same way you want him.

Carnally, romantically, wholly. Just… all of him. The good, the bad, the worst. The parts that drive you insane with anger and the ones that drive you insane with lust. The way he can break you apart and put you back together.

If he calls you his friend again now, if he says it was nothing… You don’t know if you can handle it. You don’t know that you won’t just break apart.

“Like this,” Jake repeats. “Something real.”

And your heart soars.

“Real?” you whisper, voice so quiet you think he can’t possibly have heard it.

Jake nods. “Real.”

“So it…” You trail off, shake your head, try again, “So it wasn’t nothing?”

He lets out a breathy, quiet laugh. And there’s none of his bravado, none of his cockiness. The armor is discarded, the mask is off, and there’s just Jake beneath it, not some hotshot pilot who’s got it all figured out, but a man, one who’s a dumbass at times and broken in so many ways and just as scared as you are.

You’ve never felt the way you feel about him before. Not once in your life.

“No,” he says, “it was never nothing to me. I’m sorry I said that. I know I hurt you, and it’s not an excuse, but I just… I just said it because I got scared. Because you dumped me, and honestly, I was hurt, and I liked you so much, I didn’t know what to do with myself, and I had all of these doubts, and I didn’t understand it, but… It was never nothing, sweetheart. It was… everything.”

He shrugs, something on his face that tells you he’s embarrassed by his own earnestness, uncomfortable with it, but your ears are ringing with that word. You can’t stop the smile from spreading on your face - broad and genuine and a relief after all these days in that prison of your room. Like stepping into the light after all the darkness. Like setting foot into airconditioned climates after hours out in the Californian heat.

And Jake smiles back, like a reflex, like a magnet. If you move, I move.

He’s made a step, and now it’s your turn.

So gather all your courage, that slithery, dodgy thing that’s been eluding you for months, and you grab it by the neck and thrust it forward, say, “Jake, I think I’m in love with you.”

His face goes completely blank, and with a sudden, horrid lurch, you think that maybe you’ve miscalculated, maybe it’s too much, maybe…

You backpedal, “I know it’s way too early, and I don’t really know you, and maybe in a month I find out you don’t like peanut butter, and I can never speak to you again, but this has never happened to me before, Jake, and I’m terrified, I’m so scared, but I just know I wanna be with you, I wanna figure it out together, and I hope you feel the same way, because, because I… I think I…”

“I like peanut butter,” Jake interrupts you. When you blink at him through the haze your rambling has plunged you into, he’s grinning from ear to ear. The sort of grin you have never seen him give to anyone but you.

“You.. you do?”

“A lot,” he confirms.

“Well, that’s… good then.”

“In fact,” he says, moving closer to you, “I love peanut butter.”

“Yeah?” 

Your voice is a little breathless.

He nods, hands going to cup your face. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, as you tip your face up, as your heart pounds, as your vision blurs, “I think I might be in love with you, too.”

And you don’t want to start crying, but you can’t help it. They just well up, like all those emotions you’ve been swallowing down for months now, longer than you’ve known him really, have finally ballooned into something too big for your body to hold, looking for any way out.

Jake frowns, wiping at a teardrop from your cheek like he’s trying to get an annoying stain off his laptop screen. Only like… a little gentler.

“It’s not that horrible, is it?”

You laugh, a water, bubbling sound. “No, it’s… it’s not… it’s fine.”

“Fine?” he asks, looking down at you with his eyebrows raised way too high for it to be anything than exaggerated. “I confess my love, and you think it’s fine? Jesus, romance really is dead.”

“Oh, shut up and kiss me already, Bagman, or I’m gonna strangle you, I swear I will, I’m not….”

You don’t get to finish.

Kissing Jake isn’t at all like you imagined. He’s soft but firm, and yet you can tell, underneath it all, that he’s almost nervous. Unsure. Like he doesn’t know at all how to proceed now that it’s actually real. That it means something.

All that cockiness melted away.

It’s so strange, but suddenly you realize that maybe, just for a moment, you’re going to have to take over. So you wrap your arms around his waist, draw him closer, draw him in, open your mouth beneath his and sigh into it all.

Jake comes willingly, follows your pace easily, smoothly, casually. The way he does everything. Ready to take anything you throw his way.

Finally, something inside of you seems to whisper. There’s an ache, a yearning, something that swells inside of you, grows bigger and stronger by the minute. You’ve never wanted someone this bad. It’s finally happening.

All that waiting, all that wishing and hoping and dreaming… It was worth it, you think. All of it.

His hands are warm on your cheeks, and they feel large, in a way that makes you clench your thighs. His lips are a little chapped, but he tastes sweet as if he’s been eating chocolate. He angles your face back a little more, his tongue running along the seam of your mouth, his fingers clenching into your hair, and your heart seizes as you think, suddenly, how close you came to losing this, to never having it at all, to missing out on it, and it’s so… it’s so…

You pull back when the intrusive thought inserts itself into the moment, when the anxiety makes your bones itch, look at him and say in a voice that seems to come from miles, worlds, universes away, “You’re not going to die, are you?”

It’s all you can think about - your mother fading away, flowers raining on an open grave, and being alone, alone, alone…

But Jake just smiles, rubs his thumb once along the line of your cheekbone, and says, “And miss out on getting to kiss you, sweetheart? Not a chance.”

And you haven’t belonged anywhere in so long. Have been so lonely, so broken, for so long you thought you’d never feel any different again. But here, right now, with him solid before you, with the knowledge that it’s real, it’s true, it’s not a game, and it’s not in your head, it doesn’t feel so horrible.

Because Jake knows you. Not just the pretty parts, but the ugly ones too.

How you push people away. How your fear paralyzes you sometimes, makes you mean and closed-off, and makes you lie. To him, to yourself, to everyone.

Jake has seen it, and he’s wanted you regardless.

And maybe that’s just it… how he can calm that anxiety with a word. Not banish it, not erase it, but silence that nagging, gnawing, horrible voice you’ve carried with you for so long. Make it bearable.

You’re going to die if you don’t have him. And yeah, maybe that’s dramatic, but who cares? If the past few weeks have shown anything, it’s that you and Jake aren’t just good with the dramatics… you excel at them.

“I did it,” you blurt out, and then immediately regret the words, clamp your mouth shut and feel the blood rush up into your cheeks.

Jake draws back a little to get a better look at you. “Done what?”

And you could kiss him for taking it all in stride. For not pushing you, for letting you set the pace.

Actually, you could kiss him just for… well, existing. But his ego is big enough already; he really doesn’t need to know all that.

“Well, what… what you asked.”

Jake stares at you blankly. 

“Care to be a little more specific, sweetheart?” he says gently. “I think we’ve established I don’t have the best memory.”

“I…” You hesitate, fingers going to trace a constellation of freckles on his shoulder, and there’s just so much of him, so much golden skin and so much muscle and so much confidence, and you’re going to fall apart, you know you are, you’re not going to survive this. “I touched myself. The way you asked.”

Your voice is barely more than a whisper, an exhale, but you know he heard you. Because the reaction is visceral - fingers tightening where they have slid from your face to your waist, chest undulating with the sharp intake of breath, shoulders stiffening.

Nerves make it impossible to look at him. What if he doesn’t like it, what if…

But, as always, somehow, Jake seems to know what you need. Seems to understand without ever having to say it that now, you want this to be something else. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, fingers hooking beneath your chin and turning it upwards, “look at me.”

And you do. It’s not like you have a choice, your body reacting before your mind even registers the words.

Right now, you think, Jake could tell you to jump off a bridge, and you’d go find the nearest one for a dive.

Somehow, his eyes have gone darker, hodded, an intent shining in them that scares you as much as it excites you.

“You touched yourself?” he asks quietly.

You nod, too scared your voice might fail you to try and use it.

“So, are you ready to answer my question, then?”

You know what he means right away, which is just a testament to your memory being decidedly better than his.

Instantly, the words ghost through your mind again, wrap around you like vapor. Have you been a good girl?

“I don’t…” You clear your throat as Jake steps even closer, walks you backward until your back hits the wall, until his hips are inches from yours, until he’s crowding against you like he wants to climb into your skin. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He’s so close now, and it’s different, the whole air is different. Charged now, darker. Hot even with the aircon running.

Maybe you’re going to faint. You feel like you’re going to faint.

“I think,” Jake says, voice lowered into a mumble, “you know exactly what I mean.”

He braces both hands on the wall by your head and cages you in. It’s so reminiscent of the night out behind the shack that you would have laughed if you hadn’t been scared to move even a muscle.

Not trusting your voice, you just shake your head. And it’s an act because by now, even you have understood that that’s half the fun in this game of power Jake and you have been playing from the very moment. But you also just want to hear him say it again, have been dreaming of those words on his lips for weeks now.

Jake hums, and his breath washes over your face. There’s barely an inch between the two of you now - you can’t even think anymore.

“I know you’re smarter than that, sweetheart.”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He smiles, just for a moment, and it’s sweet, a little dopey, and so decidedly out of place that you realize he knows just as well as you do that you’re pretending. That he appreciates it as much as you do.

“Alright,” he whispers finally, leans closer to run his mouth over the arch of your jaw, lips barely a whisper of a touch as you strain into it, breath catching in your throat. “Sweetheart… have you been a good girl for me?”

It’s the rasp in his voice and those words and the agonizing whisper of separation between your bodies. It’s the lack and the promise and that tight, hot coil of want that writhes in the pit of your stomach.

With a gasp, you clench your thighs together in search of relief.

“I don’t know,” you say because, truthfully, you don’t. You don’t even know your own name anymore.

Jake raises an eyebrow, and all your pretense shatters.

“Yes,” you say, immediately, voice almost a whine, head spinning, “yes, Jake, I’ve been a good girl for you.”

He acknowledges it with a nod, entirely unaffected, face blank as he moves to card a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What did you think about?”

He asks it almost casually like he’s asking about the weather or your shopping list and not just which sexual fantasies you got out of the spank bank the last time you got off.

“I…” And his hand begins tracing a long, long line from your cheekbone down to your mouth, dragging across your jaw and onto your jugular. And there, just once, he presses his thumb into your pulse point. It’s the barest hint of pressure, the illusion of the rest of his fingers wrapping around your throat, but your eyes almost roll into the back of your head. 

It draws the truth right out of you.

“You,” you gasp, “I thought about you.”

Jake acknowledges it with a nod, but there’s something to be said about his eyes flicking to your mouth, about the hand still braced against the wall by your head clenching.

“What part of me?”

You want to answer, but he leans forward to press his lips to the side of your throat where his hand had been just a moment ago, and for a second, you lose all ability to speak.

“I… Your mouth?”

“My mouth?” Jake repeats, words muffled against your skin.

Pressed flat against the wall, unable to move, with your heart pounding a patter against your ribcage, you can do nothing but nod. “Yeah.”

Jake hums, and the sound vibrates through your body. By now, you must be soaking through the front of your shorts, you think.

“And where did I put it?” he asks softly, drawing back to look at you.

And there’s such… hunger on his face, his pupils blown wide, his mouth slack, and it’s going to kill you, death on impact, you’re not going to make it.

But that’s fine. What a way to go, anyway.

“On… on me,” you whisper.

Jake laughs, and it’s so… mean. You like it.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he drawls. “Be specific.”

“I don’t know.” 

It’s all you can say. Who cares what you thought about that night? He’s here right now, so can’t you just do it for real instead of talking about your fantasy like this?

Jake clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“You can do better than that,” he says. “You’re not that dumb.”

And it could be crossing a line - should cross a line, maybe. You never would have thought it possible that you could be into something like this, but you are. It sets you off in a way you wouldn’t have expected, makes you weak in the knees and dizzy, and you want him on you, want him everywhere, want him more than you’ve ever wanted him before.

Besides… you feel pretty dumb right about now.

When it came down to the wire, you know you’re the one with the finger on the lever anyway. The moment you say no, stop, he’ll listen. So you’ve always been the one with the final decision.

Maybe that’s why this whole thing works.

“I…” You have to close your eyes, swallow against the lump in your throat. “You put it between my legs.”

He squints.

“Here?” he asks, and his hand lands on the inside of your thigh, about two inches off from where you want him.

It startles you enough that you jump, a sound of surprise falling from your mouth. And then he applies pressure, squeezes the meat of your thigh once, and you’re moaning, eyes widening with the sensation of it all.

Jake grins.

Bastard, you think, but then that thought goes out the window too, disappears in the fog that has descended on you.

“You imagined my mouth here?”

You shake your head, whimper, tip your face back and open your mouth like you can compel him to kiss you just like that.

“Be a good girl and tell me, yeah?” he whispers, but there’s something strained to his voice, something glazed to his eyes.

“No, I…” But you can’t say it. Not like this. It’s still too much, and it frustrates you, makes your eyes burn, makes your breath hitch into a gasp like you can’t get enough oxygen into your lungs. You whimper, “Jake.”

“Shh,” he whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek. “I got you, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

And then finally, because in the end, he always does, Jake takes pity on you.

“Did I put it on your pussy?”

The sound that escapes you is pathetic, barely more than a whimper, and before you know it, you’re nodding as you slump against him.

“Tell me,” he says into your ear, hand still on your thigh, mouth still against your cheek, his breaths fast and loud, “I want her you say it.”

And if you weren’t sandwiched between him and the wall, if he weren’t holding you up, you know your legs would have given out.

“You…” You swallow and take a deep breath, stell yourself, say, “You put your mouth on my pussy.”

And he groans, a loud, sudden sound that seems to burst from him unbidden like he just couldn’t hold it back. 

You’re almost stunned by it, by the discovery that he’s just as affected by all this as you are, that he wants you, too, and it does your head in, makes the world spin, makes you clutch at him a little tighter.

“You like that?” he asks, something almost frantic to his words now. “Having your pussy eaten? Does that get you off, having a tongue in your tight little cunt?”

You can’t help it. You mewl, drop your head into the crook of his neck, and wish you could stay there. And you’re so wet, can feel it pooling in your panties, feel it soaking through the fabric. Every move has the seam of your denim shorts pressing against your cunt, sends shocks of lightning through you, but it’s not enough, not enough, never enough.

Your heart is beating in your throat, and the embarrassment takes a moment to set in amidst the chaos of your sensations, but it comes. Eventually, the way it always does.

“I…” You falter, squeeze your eyes shut, push your face further into his neck, so grateful he can’t see you, and then you whisper, as if speaking it out loud could somehow make it more real, “I’ve never… you know… no one’s ever….” 

Instantaneously, Jake’s fingers tighten against your thigh, and then they tangle in your hair, and he pulls your head back with enough force that you can feel it, that it travels in shock waves through your scalp, all the way down to your toes.

He’s looking at you like he wants to devour you.

“Honey,” he says, and there’s something serious to the word beneath all that desire.

And you have trouble concentrating because honey, he called me honey, and your chest is so full of that feeling you only get with him, the one that makes you feel that everything will be alright, that nothing will hurt you, that you’ll be just fine.

“Honey,” he repeats, “do you trust me?”

And you don’t pause. Don’t think about it. Not even for an instant.

“Yes,” you say, and mean it. Mean it like you’ve never meant anything.

And Jake smiles, smooths your hair back, rubs his nose against yours. And then he said, “Would you let me? Would you let me put my mouth on you, would you let me eat your pussy until your legs are shaking? Would you trust me with that, my gorgeous, gorgeous girl?”

You’re going to disintegrate. It can’t be possible for one person to want another so much. It just can’t be possible.

“Yes,” you exhale. “Okay. Jake.”

He makes a choked sound, and then he steps back suddenly, tugging you with him by your wrists, and you stumble against his chest, let him guide you through the apartment blindly. It’s a wonder your knees don’t give in as you stumble against him like a fawn, as he pulls you like a ragdoll.

“Where are we going?” you ask, head spinning in rapid circles. Like you just got off a merry-go-round.

“I’m not going to eat you out against a wall for the first time,” Jake says.

And it would be almost romantic if it weren’t so filthy, such a quick turn-around that it could give you whiplash.

“Oh.” You blink as he pulls you into his bedroom. “I thought the wall was sort of hot.”

He laughs. “Don’t I know it?”

But then he turns, lets go of your wrists, leans down to press a quick, soft kiss to your mouth that leaves you chasing after him.

Affectionately, he brushes his fingers over your cheek and says, “I’ll do it right, honey, I promise I’ll make it so good, you’ll wonder how you ever went without it. I’ll have you coming for days.”

The thing is… you don’t even doubt it.

Jake has always been able to back up all that talk. It’s one of the things you hate about him. It’s one of the things you love about him.

“Now,” he says, “take off your top.”

It’s so much harder when he makes you do things because that’s when the anxiety gets behind the wheel, when the doubt creeps in. But in the end, that strange instinct to listen to him, to trust him, always wins out.

You pull your shirt over your head, and you can’t look at him.

“Shorts, too,” he orders and then, almost like an afterthought, adds, “and your bra.”

Your hands are shaking so hard that you struggle with the clasp of the bra, the button on the shorts, but finally, you free yourself of both, and then you’re standing in the middle of his bedroom, naked except for a pair of panties so wet you think you’re probably gonna have to throw them out come morning, and you’re shaking even though you feel like you’re burning up, like a fever in your blood, like a yearning in your bones.

It’s exhilarating and terrifying, and you want to cover yourself, but you can’t move, can’t do anything but stand there as you feel his eyes on you like hot irons, as you stare at the cologne bottles on the dresser.

What if he doesn’t like me? you think, mouth dry. What if I’m ugly.

And then Jake says, “Sweetheart. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

You’re going to cry.

“Now get on the bed and spread your legs so I can get my mouth on that gorgeous cunt.”

You’re going to have a stroke, and then you’re going to cry.

You do as he says, scooting backward on the mattress until you’re far enough up the bed to put your head on one of the pillows. Jake’s sheets are a dark blue, soft cotton, and they smell like him, like his cologne. Cinnamon and spice. The scent wraps around you, envelopes you. You clench around nothing.

If this is what his smell alone does to you, how are you going to survive his mouth on you?

The mattress dips under his weight, but you can’t look at him, keep your head on the ceiling instead. It’s all too much. It’s not nearly enough.

And then his face appears above you, and his smile is almost goofy as he leans to kiss you once, twice, three times. They’re just soft pecks, but you open your mouth and pull him down to you until you’re chest to chest, until you can feel the weight of him.

He slides his tongue into your mouth with a groan, pulls you closer with a hand on your hip. And it’s skin to skin, his palm hot and heavy, and you want him all over you, want to cover yourself in him, every inch. It’s very wet, very warm, too much spit in both your mouths, but you don’t even care, not when his teeth nip at your lower lip, when he pants against you, when it makes you feel like you’re going to fall apart right here, right now.

Finally, you get your hands on him too, on all that skin, let them run across his chest because you’re so drunk on the feeling of it all you forget even to think if you’re allowed to do this. His heart is racing beneath your palm, just as quick as yours is, and that’s a reassuring thought, that he’s affected by it all too.

Jake does something with his tongue, something that has your insides twisting, clenching like a fist, and you moan into his mouth, wrap your legs around his waist and buck your hips up, desperate for some kind of friction, of relief, not above humping him if that’s what it takes.

You feel it immediately - Jake is rock hard against your center, against the quick but firm pressure of your cunt, and it makes you squeak the exact moment it makes him choke.

“Jesus,” he grunts, fingers wrapping around your wrists and pushing them back into the pillow, pulling you off him and forcing you down into the mattress with a force as gentle as it is firm. “Stop distracting me, sweetheart.”

He draws back until he kneels between your legs, looming above you. All the lamps are off, but the blinds aren’t drawn, and moonlight spills like liquid mercury across the bedroom floor, across his skin. Inevitably, you think of that night out on the beach behind the Hard Deck, the light tangled in his hair, a study in blue.

“I think I remember telling you to spread these,” he says casually, tapping a single finger against your kneecap.

You want to tease him, want to say something about how his memory seems to be working pretty well of a sudden, but your brain won’t cooperate.

Instead, you do as you’re told, even as you feel like it might kill you, and spread your legs further.

Immediately, Jake’s eyes go to what lies between them.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice gone husky, “you’re so wet, honey.”

If you look at him, you think your heart is going to fail, so you just keep your eyes on the ceiling. Unlike your own, it’s completely free of water stains, and that’s just about the last coherent thought you have.

Jake leans forward, maneuvering around until his chest is pressed to the mattress, one hand on your thigh, the other spread on the sheets, and then his mouth is on you.

And okay. No more teasing then. Straight to business.

Over the fabric of your panties, his tongue moves against your center, and you can’t do anything but close your eyes, open your mouth even as no sound escapes. He just mouths at you for a moment, inhales deeply like he’s trying to smell you, and the thought sets you off, has you clenching your teeth, curling your toes. Then he presses a kiss to your clit through your cotton, and you’re seeing stars. 

“Oh,” you say, and he laughs, moves away to hook his fingers beneath the elastic of the panties, pulls them off unceremoniously, helps you lift your hips. They become another piece of fabric added to the pile of your clothes when he throws them over his shoulder without looking, eyes focused only on your center.

And then he leans forward, and you’re bracing yourself, steeling yourself, but nothing could ever have prepared you for the first stroke of his tongue through your folds. It has your hips rising, hed rearing back into the pillow, mouth shaping a word that never escapes it.

Jake’s fingers tighten on your thigh, and he moans once, and then he really goes for it. Burying his whole face in it, opening his mouth like he wants to devour you, tongue wet and wide and hot on your cunt, teeth just grazing your clit as he licks broad stripes from your hole up to the apex. He sets a leisured, moderate pace like he’s got all the time in the world, but you’re pretty sure yours is running out. Five more minutes of this, and you’re a goner, and it’s all too much but not enough, and you want to get away at the same time that you want him closer, and your head is spinning, your heart stuttering, your fingers tightening in the sheets.

He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, and you all but keen, fingers flying to his hair, his shoulders, your stomach. You can’t settle, can’t stop jerking, have no control over your own body anymore. All over the place, all over him, mind a mess and heart a mess and body a mess, and you can’t believe nobody’s ever done this to you before, and how have you ever lived without the feeling of Jake’s mouth on your pussy and you’re going to rip your own heart out and…

And then he catches your wrists in one hand, forcing you to look at him where he’s barely lifted his head from between your thighs. And you freeze, all the world narrowing down to nothing but his face, his voice, just him, right there with you.

He says, “I got you. I’m taking care of you, pretty girl.”

Above the sheets, by your hips, he laces his fingers through yours.

When his mouth meets your cunt again, there’s no restraint left. He fucks his tongue inside of you shallowly, your eyes rolling back, your legs straining to spread even further, to the point of pain when your muscles protest, but you need him closer, deeper, harder, and you’re so empty, aching with it. The only thing grounding you are his hands, the only point of you that seems connected to reality as the rest goes floating into space, reduced to nothing but a conduit for pleasure, for want, for yearning.

His tongue goes from your hole to your clit, one hand untangling from your death grip so he can slide a finger into you. He’s gentle about it, careful almost, but there’s no point, you’re so wet he goes without resistance, not an ounce of tension in any of your muscles. You couldn’t tense up if you tried, everything gone liquid and loose and lax. 

And it’s good, so good, so…

Jake pulls off you for a moment, breath panting and hot against you, just to check, “Did you do this too? When you thought about me, did you fuck yourself on your fingers?”

And it takes you a moment because you can’t remember if you have a mouth, can’t remember how to use it, and when you finally do, anyways, your voice is like a foreign sound, something from a different planet.

“I… tried, but it… I can’t… angle’s all wrong, it doesn’t….” He crooks his finger, and you sob, moment of dubious coherency gone, and then there’s only one word left in you. “Jake.”

And he grins, always so cocky, always so sure, adds a second finger, and buries his face into your cunt again. You keen.

It’s so wet, all of it. Your pussy and his tongue and his fingers fucking through it, fucking in with squelching sounds that should be embarrassing but make you burn hotter instead, your bodies slick with sweat, and you’re pretty sure there’s saliva dripping from your mouth, but you can’t stop it, can’t help it, can’t do anything but hold on and take it. Everything he’s giving you.

And you remember your ex trying to finger you in that bedroom covered in Twilight posters, eons ago, nothing but discomfort and awkwardness, and god, if this is what it should have been like that you want a refund, you think you’re owed compensation from the universe because that’s not fair, people were feeling this while you were telling yourself five minutes of rutting against your own finger on your clit was enough to satisfy you?

“You taste so good,” Jake groans into your cunt, “could eat this pretty pussy all day. Could stay right here forever, with my tongue in my gorgeous girl.”

And it’s almost scary, the way it builds, how high it goes, how tight it winds you. The precipice gapes below you.

“Jake,” you whimper, gasp, thrash, “Jake, wait, I’m gonna….”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, pupils blown, cheeks flushed, voice vibrating down into the darkest parts of you. “I’m here, honey, you can let go now, come on, sweetheart, I wanna see, I wanna taste….”

And you’re crying, cheeks and chin and neck wet with the tears, and you feel pathetic, but you can’t help it, free hand going to tangle in his hair, holding where you want him as he moves his fingers just so, grazing something inside you, tongue circling around your clit with just enough speed, just enough pressure.

“Please,” you sob, terrified he’s going to change up, and it’s going to get away from you, terrified he’ll stop. “Please. Please.”

It becomes a mantra, a litany, and then he squeezes your hand and plunges his fingers deep, curls them, and you’re toppling over that edge, hurtling, spinning, falling.

It’s bone-deep. It curls around you, it breaks you apart. A rope snapping. A coil unraveling.

You feel it everywhere, in your core and your toes and your fingers. A tightening and then the breathless, heart-stopping release of it all racing through you. It has you arching off the mattress, fingers tightening in his hair, legs trembling with tremors you can’t control, howling his name.

It seems to go on forever, his fingers fucking you through it, his tongue stroking you through it, and there’s nothing in your head, nothing but that blinding, strung-out pleasure.

Jake just keeps going until you push his head away with force, overstimulated to the point that pain shoots up like tiny pinpricks. You try to close your legs, but he keeps them open.

“I don’t know who those guys who didn’t eat your pussy were, sweetheart,” he says from between your legs, mouth still slick with you, eyes still dark, voice still breathless, hands still on your thighs, “but they must have been the biggest idiots in the history of mankind to miss out on that.”

You can’t answer. You’re afraid you might never be able to speak ever again.

Jake crawls up the bed until he can stretch out beside you, and finally, you can close your legs, draw them up to almost to your stomach and angle them away. You’re still pulsing, clenching around nothing, more exhausted than you’ve ever been.

“You okay, honey?” he asks softly, leaning in to kiss you. You can’t even reciprocate, just stare at him.

“Uhm,” you say.

He laughs at you, and if you could move your arms, you’d hit him. As is, you just blink at him, dazed, confused, still caught up in the intensity of it.

“That good, huh?” He grins like the cat that got the cream and wraps an arm around you, pulls you against him. There’s something reassuring to the feel of him, the slight damp of his skin and the solid muscle against the mush of yourself.

And then, voice suddenly so much softer, he says, “You did so well, honey. My best girl.”

Maybe you shouldn’t like it so much, but you can’t help but beam, cling to him.

“Next time,” he says, voice back to the levity of his pride, “I think you should sit on my face.”

You can’t help it. You gape at him.

“Your… face?” you repeat, hesitantly, unsure if you’ve misheard.

Shameless, he nods. 

“Don’t worry about suffocating me or any of that shit, it’d be an honorable way to go down.” 

“Oh my god,” you say, and then you laugh, and he laughs with you, and it’s like somebody poured liquid sunlight into your chest.

But then you shift against him, trying to get comfortable, and suddenly you’re not just aware that you’re lying in a puddle of what is essentially your own slick and Jake’s spit, that you’re still completely naked, but even more pressingly that he’s still hard.

Almost immediately, something inside of you seizes up again.

“Oh,” you whisper.

Jake, who has stilled your movement with a hand on your hip, clears his throat. He has a look of pure concentration on his face.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just… go to the bathroom.”

And he means it, is about to get out of bed when you hold onto him, wrap yourself around him like an octopus, shove your face into his chest, so you don’t have to look at him as you say, “No, I… I want it.”

Jake freezes.

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, “you don’t have to….”

“I want to,” you interrupt. And it’s clumsy rather than sexy, but you reach for his sweatpants, palm at him through the fabric, breath catching when you notice the dark stain of pre-cum on the front. “I want you inside of me.”

It’s so much more forward than you’ve ever been, so out of character, but it feels good to be honest, to tell the truth, to articulate what you’ve been dreaming of for months.

Jake groans loudly as you begin to rub at his length, drops back against the mattress without any protest.

“You want it?” he asks, searching your face as if he’s looking for any trace of a lie, of hesitancy.

Well, he won’t find any.

You smile and nod.

“I want it,” you confirm.

Jake clenches his eyes shut for a moment, exhales a shaky breath, and then he nods, leans over to open a drawer on his nightstand, and gets out a condom.

And he’s saying, you’re driving me crazy, sweetheart, but you barely hear him.

Because there it is, right on his nightstand. Front cover up, a gas station receipt shoved as a bookmark between the pages about a quarter into it.

Emma by Jane Austen.

“You… you’re reading it?” you say, interrupting whatever other filth was pouring from it, and Jake blinks, follows your gaze, pauses.

And then he has the audacity to blush. 

“Well,” he says, “you said it was your favorite, and I wanted to… I don’t usually read much, so it’s… a lot, but I think I get it, why you like it I mean, and….”

You pull him into a kiss, and you pour all of yourself into it. All the gratitude and the longing and the love. Everything you feel for him, right there, condensed into the slide of your mouth over his.

When you pull away, his eyes have gone dark again.

“I like you,” he says, and it should be bumbling, awkward, but it’s beautiful instead. “So much.”

You giggle. 

“I like you too,” you say.

From the first moment, Jake and you were planets circling each other. And now, finally, you’ve locked into orbit.

Jake rolls over you, kisses you again, only it’s even filthier this time, reminiscent of what he did between your legs, and within moments it’s gathering in your stomach again, growing once more, and you’re wet and wanting and pliant beneath him.

He pulls back to finally get rid of his sweatpants - how weird that he was still wearing them this whole time, you think - moves to roll on the condom, and you look down at his cock, open your mouth and… falter.

“Jake,” you say, “that’s not going to fit.”

And the moment you’ve said the words, you regret them. God, you sound like somebody hired you for an extremely low-budget porno, but you’re just honestly concerned.

Jake laughs, and you can’t believe you just fueled that ego even further.

“We’ll work with what he can. But sweetheart…” And he leans down, presses the tip of his cock first to your clit, then your entrance in a way that makes your vision blur, and his voice drops to a whisper, right in your ear, “Personally, I think you can take it.”

You can’t even answer, can’t do anything, because he starts pushing inside of you. And it’s excruciating, so slow it’s almost impossible, the stretch just the right side of unbearable. Jake braces a hand by your head, face scrunched up in pleasure, mouth hanging open, one hand guiding himself. And you just tip your head back and moan, a sound that rips free from the very core of you.

“I’d like to think I did a pretty damn good job at warming you up,” he grounds out, jaw clenched with concentration, “but- god, you feel so fucking good - we’ll take it slow, yeah? Just… tell me if you want to stop, honey.”

Stopping is the last thing on your mind. You just want him in you, want more, more, more, had it once, and already you’re so greedy.

The slide seems almost endless, stretching your walls further than you thought possible, and you can’t hear anything, not even Jake’s voice spilling endless praise in loops that make no sense, not your own heartbeat hammering away, only the rushing of your blood in your ears.

And then finally, when you think you can’t take it anymore, he bottoms out with a grunt and just stays there for a moment, pelvis pressed to yours, breathing in the same rhythm.

“How you feeling, sweetheart?” he asks gently, one hand moving to brush the hair matted to your face with sweat away from your forehead.

“I…” And you can’t think, doesn’t he know that you can’t think, why does he keep asking you questions when all of your brain is currently occupied with reminding you to keep breathing. “… Full.”

Jake’s face crumbles like he’s in pain, and then he drops his head against your chest, his breath hot where it hits your skin, and moans. Inside you, his cock twitches, and you gasp.

“Sweetheart,” he grits out, “can’t just go around saying shit like that. So I’m trying my best to hold on here, yeah?”

And it makes you crazy, thinking that you’ve made him like this, that he’s riding that edge because he buried his face in your pussy, and you can’t help it, hook an ankle over his thigh and tug him forward, force him to move.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You sure.”

And you nod, so far gone you don’t care anymore, can’t even remember to be embarrassed. 

“Yeah. I want it, Jake, please, please.”

It really doesn’t take all that much. He immediately complies, moving back, drawing almost all the way out before plunging back in. And it’s more than you can take, and not enough, it’s too slow, and too fast, it’s too hard, it’s not hard enough, it’s everything at once, and above all else, it’s good, so good you can’t put it into words, can’t believe it’s real, can do nothing but hold onto him and hope you make it out at the other side.

Jake keeps it even, keeps it slow even as you can see the muscles in his stomach rippling with the effort of keeping still, even as his face is tight.

“Okay,” you whisper, looking him right in the eyes only to find he’s already looking back, “give it to me, Jake.”

It sets him off. He goes from measured, collected to focused, thrusting harder, reaching deeper, and your eyes roll back into your head. He’s fucking you with enough force that it rattles the headboard against the wall, that you feel it reverberate all along your bones.

“Jake,” you whimper, and he groans, grasps one of your thighs, and bends you nearly in half, and it should be uncomfortable, but like this, he reaches even deeper, grazes that spot that paints stars in your vision. You can’t describe the sound you make as anything but a strangled scream, and it should be embarrassing, maybe, but you can’t bring yourself to feel anything but the pleasure of it all.

“Fuck,” he whispers against your neck, “fuck, sweetheart, you’re so… fucking… wet….”

The sounds are obscene. His cock plunging into your wetness, the headboard slamming against the walls, your own whimpers, and Jake’s moans, all of it mixing into what could possibly result in a noise complaint from several neighbors. And you don’t care. Not one bit.

He leans down to kiss you, barely more than your mouths slotting together, breath on breath, then his hand wanders down toward your pussy, and the other clasps yours, fingers slotting together. He’s thumbing at your swollen, sensitive clit, and it throbs, and things get even wetter, and you make a sound like you’re going to die right now, wrap yourself around him, arch into him, tongue stroking against his, his moan slammed against your teeth.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, rubbing tight, concentrated, purposeful circles on your clit, “come for me, I wanna feel your pussy clench on me, you can give me that, yeah, honey, you can be a good girl for me, can’t you?”

It’s been pretty clear from the moment he slid inside that neither of you would last very long, but that undoes you.

You’re saying yeah yeah yeah please please please jake jake jake, and he sinks his teeth into the side of your neck, sends his tongue after to soothe, and then it barrels through you, more intense than the first because it’s closer to pain, fingernails digging into his back, his palm, mouth ripping open around a sound that would have been his name had you had the breath, that dies before it leaves your lips, world-shattering, ground falling out from under you, and if you didn’t know any better you’d swear you black our for a moment, everything fading away.

When you return to it, Jake is saying, “… fucking, I can’t, god, pussy so wet and tight, so pretty, my gorgeous girl, my best girl so good, and you’re so, you’re so….”

You never do find out what you are because he goes from focused to frantic, hips undulating wildly, fucking into you at a shallow, quick pace, and then suddenly he freezes, shudders, his cock jumps - and then he’s groaning, arching over you as he empties into the condom.

He tries to roll off you immediately, but you wrap both arms and legs around him and hold him to you, in you, stay like that with your hearts thundering against each other like they’re knocking up a storm against your ribcages in an effort to embrace. Even like this, you still wish you could get him closer.

If I could, you think, I’d live inside your chest.

That’s a stupid thought.

For a while, you just lie like that. You’ll have to get up and go pee in a minute, but you don’t want to think about it yet. For now, you just want to lie here.

After an eternity, Jake says, “When I leave tomorrow….”

There’s something like hesitancy in his voice. Worry.

Into your hair, Jake whispers, “Will you wait for me?”

And that’s the thing about Jake. He’s always, always given you a way out. The decision was always yours.

So you could still walk away. Turn your back on this and forget about it. Rebuilt those walls and go back to the routine of your life before him.

But his heartbeat is quick and uneven against your chest. His voice is familiar.

You think of that house with the blue door back in Seattle.

Maybe, you think, it was never so much about the house as what it stood for: Sitting with your mother on the couch and listening to the rain. Laughing in Penny’s kitchen with her and Amelia. Watching the waves roll in that night at the beach with Jake.

Home, you think and blink the tears away. I’ve finally come home.

“Yeah, I’ll wait for you,” you answer, tighten your arms around him, press your face into his chest. “In fact, I might never leave you again. You got air conditioning.”

+++

“Jake,” you say, “this is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Wrong.” He turns the car left, and you hold onto the door handle for dear life. “The dumbest thing I’ve ever done was the time I almost let you go.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, “you’re getting so sappy.”

But when you stretch your hand palm-up over the middle console, and he takes it immediately, you’re smiling from ear to ear.

“Will you let me take this stupid blindfold off now?” you ask, the fingers of your free hand reaching up to trace along the line of the old bandana Jake tied over your eyes earlier before getting you into the car.

“Nope,” he says, sounding cheerful. “Don’t ruin the surprise, sweetheart.”

In reality, Jake isn’t the best at surprises. You’ve been together for four years now, and in all that time, you don’t think he’s managed to pull a single planned thing off. You knew about every surprise birthday party, every surprise anniversary dinner, every surprise homecoming. 

It’s a testament to his love for you, though - you’re the first person he wants to share things with, even the ones he should be keeping from you.

(And you indulge him, every time. Pretend to be shocked. Pretend he pulled it off. 

You’ll do it even when he finally decides to get out that ring box you found in his sock drawer last week. You know he’ll ask. Soon. 

You’ll wait.)

Maybe this one will actually work, though, because really, you have no idea where the hell he’s taking you.

“We’re here,” Jake says, and you hear the rhythmic thumping of the turn signal.

Jake parks the car, and you wait in silence until he’s back to open your door and help you out, one hand holding yours and the other on the small of your back. Then, carefully, he maneuvers you around.

The feeling in your chest catches somewhere between excitement and trepidation. God, you hope he didn’t do anything stupid.

Then, his voice is low in your ear as he says, “Ready, sweetheart?”

You’re not exactly sure if you are, but you say, “Ready.”

When he takes the blindfold off, you blink into the bright sunlight.

There’s a house in front of you. A beautiful place, the kind you always point out to him when you’re taking strolls through your neighborhood. White wood paneling, a front porch that wraps around the whole ground floor. Balconies with wrought-iron railings for the second stories. Flowerboxes before every window.

From behind you, Jake says, “It’s ours.”

Your heart is in your throat. Your eyes burn.

“Ours?” you repeat, voice so soft it almost gets carried off by the breeze.

Jake nods, then swallows and scrambles to say, “I didn’t sign the contract yet, of course, I’m not crazy enough to do something that big without talking to you first, you know that. But if you want it, then… it’s ours.”

The tears are hot on your face. You feel like your ribcage is going to splinter apart. Behind it, your heart has grown to three times its previous size.

“Oh,” Jake says, spotting your tears, and the hands that were wringing the bandana suddenly fall along with his face, “you don’t like it. That’s okay, we’ll just….”

“Shut up, Bagman,” you say, laughing even through the tears, a bubbling sound, fragile as glass, fragile as you feel, “I love it. Of course, I love it.”

He grins, eyes all crinkly and luminous, and fuck, you’re so in love, so far gone, it feels like you could hug the whole world. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“God, I’m so whipped,” he says, laughing like he’s trying to rival the sun, reaching for you. “My gorgeous, brilliant girl.”

He pulls you against his chest, and you wrap your arms around him and press your smile into his neck, and it’s 84 degrees in the shade, but you don’t mind because you love him, and he sees you, and you’re home, you’re home, you’re home.

The door to your new house is painted a tender baby blue. Kind of like the ocean. Kind of like the Californian sky. Kind of like your dream.

#hangman fic #top gun maverick #hangman x reader #hangman #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x reader #mine #f: bh #goodbye

[satosugusandwich]

𝔏𝔢𝔱 𝔐𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲’𝔯𝔢 𝔐𝔢𝔞𝔫…

True Form!Sukuna x Fem!Afab!Reader (This is an AU!!! Sukuna is not a homicidal maniac cannibalistic murderer! I think he’s sexy and my morals say no dick from crazy murderer BUT dick from crazy 😍)

Cw: very brief mention of trauma, sukuna is an ass, alcohol, mild sexual content but no smut just yet

Description: You've been friends with Yuji Itadori for some time now and have seen the best, the worst, and the strange in all your years of knowing him. You've never thought he was one to have any crazy secrets and well... you were wrong. And now the demon bound to Yuji is bound to you too! How fun! Good thing that you aren't stupid and won't fall for a being that by no means should you have ever interacted with! Right? Right...?

*Yuji is aged up but there will be no sexual stuff with him except maybe like a brief mention but yeah*

Chapter 3 Here!

@dressycobra7

Chapter 4: Quite the Teacher

You did your best to avoid Sukuna most of the time after that and eventually Yuji left your apartment to pick up a few changes of clothes, so you were left alone with Sukuna again. Sukuna was an enigma to you and you to him. Before you could interact with Sukuna, he'd have to watch you through Yuji even though most of the time he did his best to stay away from Yuji. When Sukuna was first reawakened, he was obsessed with fucking around with Itadori and pushing his buttons, but Yuji was far too stubborn to break so eventually Sukuna gave up. Now, he has the perfect opportunity to get quality entertainment but of course he's stuck with an overly sensitive human that has spent the past few days crying or eating. Its no fun when he can't get a reaction out of them, you'd break too fast for his liking. Yuji doesn't break at all, in fact, each time Sukuna pisses off Yuji, he mostly ignores him.

After a few days, you decided you would go to class even if you didn't want to. Yuji agreed that it was good for the sake of normalcy and explained not to worry about Sukuna because he'd most sleep on the ground somewhere or lay down his seats in the car. So long as Sukuna chooses to follow Yuji around, he won't have to be stuck with you. And yet... here he is, staring over your shoulder while you try to listen to the lecture. It felt so awkward having Sukuna hovering above you, just standing to your left while no one else can see him. You have no idea why he decided you'd be the best to follow and you weren't very flattered by it. It took everything for you to not react. The professor would keep talking and then Sukuna would make some side comment about the information he's trying to teach or make a comment about what one of the other students is doing. It didn't help if they were funny and you had to do the most not to laugh.

The monster has always been attentive, things would catch his eye that no one else would from his hundreds of years worth of battle experience. Humans have always had interesting habits to him, some that were entertaining and others that were plain annoying. For example, in the show he was watching, there were humans that were fond of being suspended in intricate patterns and tortured pleasurably which seemed counterintuitive to the human urge to survive. On the other hand, there were more annoying habits, like the humans that obsessed over adjusting their clothing to always look a certain way, as if others' opinions made them so insecure it was palpable. To him, if another judges, why not just show them to mind their own business? Sadly, you were one of those that seemed preoccupied with others views of you. And one that was too timid to tell others to mind their business.

You got up to go to the bathroom and he followed behind you. "Hey," you said once you were out the door, "can you stand further away from me? Or like teleport to Yuji or something?"

With his observational skills, he could tell you were uncomfortable with him watching you, as much as you initially tried to hide it. "Why can't I stand next to you?"

"It feels weird! You keep on staring at me!" You entered the bathroom and shut the door behind you.

"Weren't you staring at me all day yesterday?" He said through the door.

Your face got hot, but not in embarrassment, more so frustration. You really didn't want to leave class as boring as it was, you just wanted to be isolated from Sukuna from a moment and especially his peering eyes. Sukuna wanted to push you as much as he also wanted to know how your brain works, frustratedly his only choice was to stalk you. (It is not his only choice, he’s not good at asking questions.)

When you exited the bathroom, you came face to face with him and you couldn’t help but look into his eyes, you’d never seen real life red eyes before, and never this many on one face. Sukuna didn’t make any comments about your staring but it certainly amused him whether or not he’d admit it. You looked away and started to walk back to class, but this time he decided to sit outside of the room and rest on two of his arms.

Once you reached the end of the day, you were reunited with Yuji which you were beyond grateful for. You have no fucking idea how he tolerates having Sukuna with him at all time or at least in proximity. You can practically have zero privacy unless a door is between you! And did Sukuna watch him as much as he watches you???? You assumed he had just gotten used to it over time and you sincerely hoped you would too. You really hadn’t chewed on the fact that you’re actually stuck with him for life and you wondered if Yuji had accepted that as well. Did Sukuna?

Yuji suggested going to get some drinks tonight, a little pick me up to get you out of your head and while you originally opposed the idea, you decided maybe it’ll take your mind off the trauma and Sukuna. Before that, the three of you went to your place and you slept for nearly the whole day before you sat back to do work, which helped to bring you back into your body and not your thoughts. Then it was 8pm.

You wanted to go out at a seemingly normal time and just throw back a few in peace and maybe talk to a few people while you were at it. Since you all decided to ride in your car, Sukuna was lucky enough to have ample space for once. You didn’t know if he really wanted to follow you around or if the binding made it so that he couldn’t leave either of your sides and Yuji was also wondering the same thing, he just didn’t want to stir the pot. When you arrived at this cute little bar, you were met with Megumi, Yuji’s boyfriend.

“Hey!” You ran up to the man sat at the bar. “I haven’t seen you in a little bit!”

Megumi smiled and waved while Yuji placed a kiss to his cheek. “Yeah, I’m back in town. I visited my sister for a few days.”

Yuji sat down beside him. “I’m so happy to see you!!!” He was ecstatic, grinning from ear to ear. Looking at the boys, they seemed like opposites. Yuji being a super jubilant, bright eyed, pink haired, and muscular dude versus Megumi being a somber, dark eyed, dark haired, more athletic build. It was charming to you, but clearly, the touchy feely stuff made Sukuna groan. He sounded like a grossed out kid.

“I already ordered some shots.” Megumi said. “I know Yuji and Nobara would down them super fast.”

The name made your eyes light up. “Oh is she coming?” You loved when she was around since you were able to complain about men together.

Megumi nodded. “She’s in the bathroom, we came together.”

Sure enough, she was out as soon as he said that, pulling her tube top up and running to you. You outstretched your arms to hug her as if you hadn’t seen her in ages and, of course, another groan from Sukuna. Nobara started pattering on, telling you all about the past few weeks and why she hasn’t been around as much. You kept on giggling and it was like you forgot Sukuna was there. the demon had found his way to a corner and opted to people watch while you continued to bore him. He was still attentive to you, wondering how long he was going to be stuck here watching you all.

Over the past few years of watching Itadori, he learned to find ways to entertain himself, be it creating stories in his mind or thinking about his life. When he felt the urge to mess with people, considering he was able to interact with objects, he loved giving people a spook. One thing he will miss is constantly spooking you, now that you’re aware of his presence, it’ll be much harder. A poor dude decided to turn his back so Sukuna shifted his drink over to the other end of the table. The man didn’t notice it at first, so he did it again. The second time had the man blinking and looking around like crazy. Then Sukuna saw that someone left their keys on the table so naturally, he took them and hid them on the floor under the table. Then of course, he went into the bathrooms and decided to shake the stall doors. Well populated places like this were his favorite outings, he could fuck with whatever he’d like, especially because Yuji couldn’t lecture him without looking like he’s insane.

Sukuna’s acts didn’t go unnoticed by you and as you watched him you realized that a lot of the shit you went through with Yuji was Sukuna’s fault! Oh yeah, when this alcohol induced confidence kicks in, you’re going for his ass.

Nobara noticed that you were downing a million drinks so she put her hand on your shoulder. “Hey, you tryna get dicked down tonight or did something happen?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “Listen, liiiisteeen.” You stretched the second word and slammed your drink down. “I am never letting a man even think about my vagina ever again!”

Nobara put her hands up. “Oh? Finally gave up, huh?”

You scoffed. “Gave up??? Nah, I learned that none of them are worth it! I’ve decided that the next man I fuck will have to eat it first, kiss it too! And also he needs to walk the walk as much as he talks. Each dick I’ve been near recently has just been god awful.” You couldn’t help but rant while she looked at you with wide eyes.

“Yeah, for real. It’s only right they get you to nut first!” She agreed, slamming back another. “There’s this guy they’ve been talking about you know. He’s a little bit older but not too much, but they say he eats like he’s starved.” She licked her lips and nudged you.

“I need proof!”

She pulled on your arm. “It’s rumors for sure, but he’s really fucking hot.” Pulling out her phone, she opened up Instagram and showed you his account.

“Oh my fuck—“ you gaped. “His hair!!! His eyes!!!!!” It’s true. He’s tall as fuck, has Snow White hair, bright blue eyes, and is built not as much as Sukuna, but built. Not to mention his cocky grin and how his sunglasses sit on the end of his nose. “But he’s one of those guys who knows they’re hot, those guys are red flags!”

She shushed you. “Listen, y/n, he’s totally your type. You’re more in his age range and he supposedly likes girls like you. You should DM him!”

You thought on it for a minute, you are a few years older than your friends and even if he’s a bit older, he’s got a good reputation. Scrolling through his account, he’s sexy as hell, has sexy friends, and frequents this same bar. She must’ve heard about him from the other girls here. “Who is the other guy here?”

Nobara tapped on the image and went to his account. “Oh yeah, he’s the darker type. Suguru and Satoru, funny.” She read their names and you looked at both of them. That’s one hell of a threesome idea.

“You like those kinds of men?” Sukuna’s voice boomed behind you.

You turned around fast but then remembered no one else can hear or see him, except Yuji. “Oh.” You turned back around and Nobara lifted a brow.

“What’s up?” She asked, peering behind her to see what you were looking at.

“It’s nothing.” You responded, now looking up the men on Instagram.

Sukuna spoke again. “They seem to be rather proud of themselves. From my experience, they break the hardest.”

You tried to not talk back, but the alcohol was definitely making your temper rise. Yuji was an expert at drowning out Sukuna at this point so he didn’t even notice your distress, not to mention the alcohol and his pretty boyfriend had his attention more than you. Sukuna, for once, hadn’t picked up on it either.

“Hey, I’ll be right back.”

Now Itadori was looking at you. “Are you okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah, just gotta get something really fast.”

Nobara grabbed your arm. “I’ll come with it’s not safe.”

You pushed away your hand. “It’s fine, I’ll be safe.” That’s true, you could just tell Sukuna to save you. You exited the bar and when you got to your car, you looked around to make sure no one was there and sure enough, Sukuna decided to follow you.

“Hm, did I irritate you?” He looked slightly amused.

You did not. “Yes! You won’t shut the fuck up!” You were pissed now, arms crossed and looking at him like he’s crazy.

“Oho? You do have some fire, huh?” He was grinning now, both pairs of arms crossed.

“You’ve been an ass to me since we’ve met and I’ve been beyond nice to you! It’s like all you want to do is piss me off, Yuji too! I literally just went through the most traumatizing experience of my fucking life and now you’re being an asshole to me! Watching me, making comments about the dudes I like, and being an absolute shithead!”

As you yelled at him, his face softened a bit. He let you rant at him before speaking up. “I’m impressed you’re willing to speak to me like this. You have more to you than I thought.”

Ouch, there he goes again. “What the fuck! I just told you about your shitty comments—“

“It was a compliment.” He interjected. “Personally, I love it when people don’t hold back.”

You didn’t know what to say. It’s like he was missing the entire point. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” You started to walk toward the bar, ready to drink some more.

“No, you should say more. Tell each person that’s hurt you to shut the fuck up. Like you did me.” He was grinning again and you stopped walking, looking toward the ground. “I’m being serious. I seriously don’t intend or have intended to hurt you, I just think you need to speak your mind more, raw emotion and boldness looks good on you.”

Spinning around to face him again, you could feel your throat tightening. He looked… genuine. “Were you trying to piss me off on purpose?”

Sukuna shook his head, pushing out his lower lip. “I’ve been told I push buttons, past and present. I must admit,” he laughed, “I love to tease.”

“So you were trying to piss me off?”

He laughed a bit harder. “No, no, I’ve been holding back. It’s not fun to kick someone when they’re down. I think I’m starting to find you more interesting, so I especially wouldn’t do that.”

He finds you interesting? What the hell does that mean? “So you thought I was boring, me?”

He cocked his head. “You and the brat are stupid so you’re entertaining, but watching you these past two days have made me realize something.”

You narrowed you eyes.

“You have a fire, it just needs a little push. Luckily, I’m quite the teacher.” One of his hands went to his chest as though he was crossing his heart. “Keep stoking that fire, brat, it’s quite entertaining.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just went back inside. Everyone was confused but you decided to ignore it and drink up a little more. If one good thing came out of tonight, that was you forgetting all about the previous nights. Now, you can’t get Sukuna’s words out of your head. Hell, it’s the only thing you thought about, so you went and forgot to do your homework. And also forgot to eat dinner.

It was 1am when you all decided to leave and you were passed the fuck out so Yuji had to carry you and strap you into the passengers seat. Really, he shouldn’t be driving either, but he’s not stupid enough to give Sukuna the wheel even though he offered with a shit-eating grin on his face. Yeah, less worried about his driving skills and more due to the fact that it’d look like a ghost driving the two of you. Yuji went inside with you and tried to wake you up to shower and change, but you opted to remain sleeping. After your argument (one-sided), Sukuna couldn’t help but feel bad. He’s not one to be exceptionally emotional, but he’s been seriously trying to give you advice, he isn’t used to being around normal people, he used to those who grin and bear it for the sake of strength and power, not people who actually feel their emotions. He’s not one to have a soft spot, but something about you evokes emotions he once tried to fully repress for the sake of survival. He doesn’t get it. At all.

You don’t get it either.

Why exactly that night, for the first time since it had happened, why you didn’t have nightmares. And why, instead of dreaming about the two men on instagram, you dreamt of Sukuna lapping at your clit. And also why did you like it so much?

#jjk #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader fluff #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna #itafushi #jjk yuji #jjk x you

[kalims]

‎˃ ᵕ ˂ . . "if we ever break up I'd go back to my ex because I love them too much—you're my ex stupid."

premise. let's all pretend that in a state of emergency at the word of "breaking up" some are gonna lose all logic and not register the ex part. (I also was rather busy as of late so hence why this took so long to publish :D)

"if I broke up with you, I'd go back to my ex."

characters. malleus, trey, ace, deuce, leona, lilia, and vil.

cw. established relationship, fluff, crack, nothing too triggering so this is safe to proceed with.

🏷 : for @vyndiesel

malleus draconia

"I do not understand. are you implying you will?"

malleus doesn't have a single idea on why exactly you're telling him of your.. possibly future plans. for your information, he did not consent to knowing how your life will go if you guys do end up breaking up. which is honestly something he'd do over his dead body.

he'll automatically think there's something wrong going on cause why else would you make such an idea? did he do something that displeased you? if so, can you pretty please tell him so he can apologize and fix his non-existent mistake?

says something like 'then I apologize if I did something wrong. please don't leave.' and it's kinda sad cause this joke completely flew over his head and if you mentioned something about it he'll look up respond with. "but there is nothing flying over my head?"

his clueless self is enough for you to immediately deny his assumption.

oh. so he will be the 'ex'? honestly he only knew whatever that meant through lilia and his people would normally call them past lovers.. oh well, now he thinks that this is a sign that you would never leave him so = happy dragon.

trey clover

"well, will you?"

unlike malleus, trey has the brains and experience to come to the conclusion that you're playing a joke on him. he's that perspective to be able to discern what is true, and what is false. not the justice kind of course but like an eye for truth or sorts.

or maybe it's just that you share the braincells with the adeuce first years and he just so happens to be the one who's 'supervising' them when you're not around. he knows their tricks, and to be frank it's like you three + grim all collectively share the braincell.

plus.. who's to say that he hasn't been one of the people at the end of pranks. for a strict dorm, heartslabyul holds a few students who are too mischievous for their own good. yeah, he's looking at cater.

anyhow he's still a little suprised by your bold statement but who wouldn't honestly? just straight up admitting to your spouse, implying a break up is shocking itself. you aren't trying to actually break up with him, are you?

silence blends with his mind and it eventually fixes his logic. won't really tell you that he knows now and waits for you to tell him yourself. partially cause he wants to mess with you & see your reaction. a payback of sorts? goodluck putting him with him though :)

ace trapolla

"is this foreshadowing or something?"

truthfully ace's humor which is admittedly dark at times usually is the one to remove him from sticky situations, lessening the times where there's an atmosphere he doesn't want to deal with at all.

he's dumb (you are too <3) to put it simply, out of all of them he & deuce would be at the bottom to figure out the joke and won't get it at all cause he's too occupied about the breaking up part practically flying above his head and making fun of him.

literally will keep on pestering you throughout the day, I say that cause I think he's in your classes? unless I read the dialog wrong in the story. if you're chilling in your assigned seat he kicked the person who's supposed to be beside you to ask you more about "whatever that was about."

he's paranoid. and his mind will not be at rest until you fully explain whatever you meant by that! so you'd run out of patience with this mf and go: "ace. if we broke up who do you think is gonna be my ex?"

actually pauses to think about it. "oh. me?" "yeah." "...i knew that."

deuce spade

"did I do something wrong??"

thinking that he fucked up in the most unknowing way ever possible 🤝 deuce spade. it's like ace but he only yearns to ask you about it cause he thinks it will only make things worse by pestering you more about it.

goes to ace and the boy is like 'wtf are you talking about bro' cause it's literally 3 AM in the morning and your statement kept him up all night, ace just happened to be breaking the rules by staying up all night. so while chilling in bed ace just gets urgent spams from deuce.

since it's from text which means it's more clearer to register instead of text, and ace isn't the one in the relationship with you: naturally he gets it pretty quick but still messes with deuce by agreeing with him. "yea dude they're totally gonna break up w/ you, u fucked up horrendously"

HE DIDNT SLEEP THAT NIGHT??

so you feel bad cause you can see the darker patch of skin under his eyes and he's visibly trying not to look miserable. "so you're not mad?" "of course not." GIVE HIM HUGS OR ELSE.

leona kingscholar

"shut up you're disturbing my nap with your disturbing thoughts."

or, a translation for you : what the hell are you talking about, I am actually disturbed and perplexed by your words so I'm gonna pretend I don't care and that it totally isn't messing with my head.

you know what's the leona way to solving problems or things he doesn't wanna even think about? ding ding. if you thought it was sleep then you're completely right, just sleep it away for temporary relive!

until his dream had you both breaking up. he stayed up and reflected on his own life while grumbling.

well. you won't even dare to break up with him when you finally see how mighty he is won't you? he'll just have to show you how much you are cherished in his arms, and what you'll miss on if you break up.

"did you know you'd be the ex?" "..." silence and a little embarrassment. all this effort for what, a joke? he hates you. /j atleast the totally non-existent worries will fade away.

lilia vanrouge

"how mean.. going back to them just like that and leaving me in the dark.."

catches on the fastest. he applauds you in his mind on the attempt to catch him red handed though. it's a very smart idea!

so he just resorts to making you feel sorta bad cause he's quite entertained at the moment and you're the one that started this game anyways. wouldn't it be boring if he just catches your words and does nothing at all?

oh no. two can play at that game dear prefect. meanwhile you're confused at why lilia is suddenly more clingy than before. it seems like he's really intent on proving that there's nothing here to leave. nothing worth to anyways.

or an alternative : lilia gives you the cold shoulder for a 'prank' as well. it's only fitting for him to return your oh so cruel one atleast two times worse. after all, that's how things work in twisted wonderland.

will be very pleased when you finally start apologizing to him for the joke and just happily showers you in love as if nothing ever happened.

🚩

vil schoenheit

"you'd really leave someone like me? hmph. how crude. leaving your queen all alone."

he's offended really, are you seriously gonna leave him out of all people? the most beautiful man you'd ever lay your eyes on? and for what? don't you see what kind of jewel he had so graciously let you keep and admire everyday? for free?

vil starts looking a lot better than he used to, and his "used to" was always crazily beautiful in the first place and now he looks like a perfect sculpture god himself carved. like his skin is literally glimmering and smooth.. his hair looks much healthier.

it seems like he's put more serious effort into keeping himself healthy and beautiful. hell he was doing great academically but now he's better. geez, if you'd known your words would be able to pull this kinda power you would've not spoken in the first place.

^ cause it's worrying how much he might've exerted his energy.

"but vil you'd be the ex if I broke up with you." "that's even worse. don't you dare break up with me."

#ㅤ◜◡◝ . . signed ! #twst x reader #twst x you #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x you #twst #twst fluff #twst headcanons #twst scenarios #twst imagines #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #trey clover x reader #trey clover #ace trapolla x reader #ace trappola #deuce spade x reader #deuce spade #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #x gn reader #x reader #x you

[buckyshairstylist]

Aww, your tony is so precious, can you write a very happy dad tony spoiling his pregnant wife?

Tony Stark x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tony is truly the best husband Y/N could ask for.

CW: pregnancy, mentions of food, fluff. Not edited.

WC: 1,348

AN: Sorry it’s taken so long to get this done! College classes and work has taken up all of my time and I finally found a free moment to finish this. I hope you enjoy it and I’m so sorry for the wait, anon!

To say that Tony was surprised to find you sobbing in the middle of your bed was an understatement. He’d left you alone for fifteen minutes — long enough to shower to wash off all the dirt and grime that came with his occupation — and now you were on your bed, sobbing.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

You sniveled miserably, looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “I just love you s’ much, Tony.”

Tony ducked his head to hide the small laugh, masking it with a cough. He made his way to the bed, climbing onto it and gently pulling you against him.

“I love you too, dear.”

One hand rubbed up and down your arm, the other resting on your swollen belly. You sobbed into his shirt, clinging to him.

“Don’t leave.”

“I would never leave you, honey,” he assured you, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“…Tony?”

Tony hummed in acknowledgement.

“Will you rub my back, please?” you requested, wiping at your eyes. “God, I’m such a mess.”

“It’s normal. Just… lie down for me.”

You huffed but did as you were told, awkwardly maneuvering to where you could lie down. Tony helped as much as he could, one hand pressing against the small of your back. Tony laid directly behind you, his hands instantly moving to your shoulders.

“You’re the best, y’know that, Tony?”

Tony smiled at you. “Of course I am, baby. I’m Tony Stark.”

“Rhodey says you’re Tony Stank.”

“He is never gonna let that die,” he huffed, working at the tight muscles in your back. “God, honey.”

“What?” You turned your head slightly so you could hear him better.

“Your muscles. They’re so tight. Stress isn’t good for you, you know.”

“I know, baby, but stress is normal for me,” you reminded him.

“Honey, stress isn’t good for you or the baby. Heck, it’s not good for you even if you’re not pregnant! Don’t make me install a protocol where Friday has to snitch—“

“Don’t you dare, Anthony Stark.”

Tony giggled. You huffed, gently (or rather, lazily) swatting at him.

“I can’t believe you’d even suggest it.”

“Alright, since the protocol is a no, how about I find someone to keep you company?”

“Tony, I swear—“

“Just someone to keep you company when I’m gone.”

You hesitated, thinking about the potential victim of that scheme. Realizing who Tony would volunteer for the position (and who would happily take it if asked), you sighed.

“Tony, do not bring Peter into this.”

“I never said Peter. You did. And it’s a brilliant idea.”

“No.”

————————————————————————

“Hi, Mrs. Stark!” Peter chirped as he entered the penthouse, waving.

“Hey, Peter,” you smiled kindly at him. You took in his appearance and quirked a brow. “Lab day?”

“Yeah. Mr. Stark wasn’t in the lab, though, so I came up here.”

You hummed, grabbing a second mug out of the cabinet.

“You want some hot cocoa?”

“If it’s no trouble, Mrs. Stark.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Peter. And you don’t have to call me Mrs. Stark. Y/N is fine,” you reminded him, though you’ve nearly given up on him ever using your name.

Peter smiled cheekily. “Okay, Mrs. Stark.”

You groaned playfully, earning a laugh from the boy that had stolen both yours and Tony’s hearts. Peter had one of the strongest support systems in the world — you just weren’t sure he was aware of that.

“How have you been?”

You placed a mug in front of him as you huffed. “I’ve been okay. Emotional, but only Tony gets to deal with it.”

Peter snickered.

“How about you?”

“I’ve been great, Mrs. Stark! Aunt May—“ Peter launched into a rant, rambling about everything that had happened since the last time you saw him. You listened attentively, interjecting where appropriate and responding to the conversation.

Tony stepped out of the elevator around the time he started to tell you about the new Lego set he’d been working on with Ned.

“Underoos, kid, I’ve been texting you for the last twenty minutes.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I’ve been talking to Mrs. Stark.”

“I can see that,” Tony smirked. “Change of plans, kid. It’s now movie night.”

“Oh, okay! I, uhm, are you sure, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked uncertainly.

“Positive, Pete. What are we thinking for dinner? Pizza?”

“Yes!”

“That’s fine, Tony,” you smiled at him. Tony smiled softly, giving Friday the order to order the pizzas from your favorite pizzeria.

“Hey, Pete, why don’t you go grab some blankets?”

Peter nodded and took off down the hallway.

Tony moved to where he stood beside you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “C’mon, Mrs. Stark. I think some cuddles are in order, don’t you?”

You ducked your head as you felt your face heat up, a smile flitting across your lips.

“I think so, Mr. Stark.”

“You know, I went out today. It was supposed to be just to get a part for the car I’m working on, but I ended up seeing some things that I thought you would like and some things for the baby.”

“Tony—“

“Let me finish. They’re already in our room, they’ve been put where they won’t bother you. You can look at them whenever you want, you don’t have to do it today. But I think you’ll like it.”

“Tony, I’m happy with you just being here. You don’t have to buy me things to make me happy—“

“I know that,” he sighed. “I like to buy you things. You’re important to me. You should have everything that you desire, even if it’s something as ludicrous as the moon.”

“—and you know we have more than enough baby stuff, Tones.”

“This—you are the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, honey. And our baby? That’s the best gift. I’m so grateful for you and for our baby, I’ve just—I’ve got to spoil both of you. So let me spoil you, and let me spoil our baby. It’s not gonna break me.”

After a few seconds of silence, the two of you merely watching each other as the silence dragged on a few seconds too long, you smiled at him.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to you spoiling me a little bit. But don’t spoil the baby too much, Tony.”

“I would never do such a thing,” he denied instantly. You scoffed. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“Not really, no.”

Tony snorted. “Fair. C’mon, I wanna show you this really quick. It’ll take Pete at least another five minutes to find the best blankets.”

You giggled, knowing that Peter would probably find every blanket he could before deciding which ones were appropriate for movie night.

“You know… I know that you purposely sent Peter up here.”

“I did not.”

“You did, Tony. You’re testing the theory you mentioned last night. Don’t bring Peter into this.”

“Peter’s already involved, Y/N,” Tony reminded you dryly. “He’s our unofficially adopted son, remember? Therefore, he’s our child’s unofficial older brother.”

You hummed as you followed Tony down the hallway, fingers entwined. Tony gently tugged you into the bedroom, where you noticed several bags dropped in one corner.

“Don’t worry about those. Some of it is genuinely for the lab.”

“It better be, Tony, or I swear—“

“It is, I promise. Now would you come over here? I want to see how these pajamas look on you.”

“Pajamas?” You raised a brow. “Like really soft pajamas?”

“The softest for my beautiful wife,” Tony beamed at you. “I saw them and I thought you would like them. I’ll show you the crib I bought later.”

“Tony, I thought we promised to do that together.”

“Baby, trust me, you’ll love it.”

He handed you the pajama set he’d mentioned, desperately hoping to take your mind off of the crib. You ran your hands over the material — soft, fluffy, and warm. You wasted no time in changing, much to your husband’s amusement.

“There’s my pretty girl,” Tony murmured, pressing a kiss to your lips. “C’mon. I’ll rub your back while we watch the movie with Peter. I’ll show you the rest later.”

“Tony—“

#tony stark x fem!reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark blurb #tony stark x you #tony stark fluff #tony stark x reader #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #iron man #tony stark #tony stark fic #mcu fic

[kazemi-archive]

Great Friends

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x Reader WC: ~1.3k     Genre: angst Summary: Atsumu's surprise guest puts you in the mood to drink more. drinking more, however, might get you into more trouble when Atsumu says the wrong thing to you. CW: mentions of drinking

Prev Part —  Masterlist — Next Part

You were sorry to say that you were begrudgingly sipping on yet another drink. Mizuki quickly became the center of attention for many of the boys. You were glaring at her from over the rim of your plastic cup from your spot on the sofa. You had safely adhered yourself to Osamu’s side, determined that it was probably the safest space for you to be.

Safe from yourself, of course. Certain that next to Osamu, your loose lips would not let some choice words out for the girl you didn’t yet know.

Atsumu, per expectation, was attached to Mizuki. He was the only one here who seemed to know her. She was new to campus, a transfer and apparently had met Atsumu through class. Regardless of where she came from, you took the small amount of comfort offered by the fact that you hadn’t been the only one to have never heard of the girl.

“Glaring.” Rintarou mumbled as he dropped onto the couch next to you. “It’s obvious.”

“Shut up you stupid fox.” You grumbled back, taking another swallow of the liquid. It burned going down. “I hate you right now.”

“Not my fault your man brought another girlfriend to the party.” Rintarou rolled his eyes in exasperation as he drank from his own cup.

“Suna.” Osamu growled his name in warning from the other side of you. Easily pulling you into his side to keep you from lashing out at Rintarou from the comment. “We don’t even know that they’re dating.”

And that was the kicker. The part that was the worst. Not a single one of them, none of the people so focused on Atsumu and Mizuki, had gotten the guts to ask the question that was on all of their minds.

“What the fuck ever.”  You shrugged off Osamu’s arm and shoved away the hand Rintarou tried to reach out towards you to apologize as you stood. “I’m getting another drink.” You stumbled slightly, the alcohol in your body rushing to your brain and offsetting your balance. Nonetheless, you quickly caught yourself and took off towards the kitchen for another drink.

You ignored the idle chatter of everyone around you as you began filling your cup again, more alcohol and less mixer this time. You winced harshly at the burn of the alcohol when you tasted it, coughing at the taste. You scoffed lightly at yourself, why bother with the mixer, why not just drink straight from the bottle. You entertained the idea for barely a moment before you realized that that would probably get you a one way ticket home from Osamu if he caught you.

All you wanted was for this night to be over. A night you’d been looking forward to for weeks. You’d truly wanted to finally confess to Atsumu. To tell him what you’d known for years now. To hope that maybe, just maybe he felt the same way. That he loved you in the way that you loved him. A stupid pipe dream you realized now as the image of Mizuki, bent at the waist and laughing as she held onto Atsumu’s bicep flooded your brain.

“Hey! A/n/n!” You cringed at the sound of Atsumu’s nickname for you being shouted into the kitchen in his usual happy tone. “Been lookin’ fer ya!” You could hear the intoxication seeping into his words as he reached past you for one of the bottles to fill his cup. You tensed up slightly as the smell of his cologne filled your senses.

“Really? Seemed pretty caught up with Mizuki.” You mumbled in spite.

Atsumu seemed to have missed what you said, turning to face you. “Wha’ was that?” He asked it sincerely and you quickly backtracked.

“Hmm? Nothing.” You quickly busied yourself with taking a large swallow of your alcohol, ignoring the burn. It seemed to hurt less than the prospect of Atsumu knowing how much his relationship with Mizuki hurt you.

Atsumu seemed to miss how infatuated you quickly became with the contents of your plastic cup. “Well, I really wanted you to meet Mizuki!” You cringed slightly, taking another large drink to keep yourself from saying something. To keep yourself from telling Atsumu that you’d rather step into oncoming traffic than meet his new girl friend. “She’s super sweet when you get to talk to her, promise!” You hummed in response, nodding along as you drank more. “I really think you’d be great friends!”

You squeezed your eyes shut. An arrow through your heart. That’s what that felt like. You couldn’t say no to him, you knew that. If he truly asked you to be friends with her… you would try your hardest to. You really didn’t want to though. You begged that he ask you for anything else. Maybe walk across hot coals. Sleep on a bed of nails.

“Hey, ya okay?” Atsumu’s voice made you realize that you’d had your eyes squeezed shut still and hadn’t answered.

You quickly took another large drink, looking at the cup in disappointment when you realized you’d emptied it. …hadn’t you just filled it? You sighed and reached to fill your cup again. “Yeah, yeah, ‘m all good.” You forced a quick laugh and glanced at his concerned face. “Jus’ a li’l taken aback.”

“What?” Atsumu tilted his head, his signature lost puppy dog look covering his face as he looked at you.

“Jus’ don’ know why ya didn’ wanna tell me-or even Miysam that ya got yerself a girlfriend.”

Atsumu had tilted his head down to look at his cup as you spoke but in an instant, his movements faltered and his head snapped back up to you. You, still working on filling your cup, looking for a mixer to dilute the alcohol a little more. “What?”

“Just thought ya know that ya would’ve told at least one of us. We’re family.”

“A/n/n-”

“S’okay ‘Tsumi.” You assured, taking a large sip of your drink. It wasn’t okay. You wanted to scream.

“Wait, y/n.” Atsumu tried but you interrupted again, desperately wanting to get out of the conversation, to avoid hearing Atsumu gush about how great his new girlfriend was.

“She’s very cute, actually. You two are cute together.” Your words were rushed, the alcohol seeming to affect you more than you originally thought. …hadn’t you just filled your cup? You reached for the bottle and missed the way Atsumu stared at you. “Isn’t it just great?” You laughed slightly.

Atsumu looked at you, mouth opening and closing trying to find what to say to you.

“Oh!” Osamu’s voice cut through both your heads, both of you turning to him at the same time. “Great? Did you tell him then?”

“Tell me?” Atsumu asked, glancing between the two of you, trying to grasp what secret the two of you had been keeping from him.

Your mind flooded then, with the most horrible idea. “No! Perfect timing though!” You swallowed a large gulp straight from the bottle, missing the horrified look that Osamu gave you at the action. “Was jus’ tellin’ ‘Tsumi here that it’s so great that he’s in a relationship! Now none of us are single!”

“What?” Both twins responded at the same time, neither processing that the other spoke as they both stared at you.

“Yeah, ‘Tsumi, that’s what I wanted to tell ya earlier.” You giggled slightly, bodying swaying a bit as you wrapped your arm around Osamu’s arm. “Was so nervous t’tell ya. But it’s all good now.” Osamu swore it was like watching a train crash in slow motion, Atsumu’s eyes were locked onto where yours wrapped around his brother’s arm, swallowing hard as you spoke three words he wished he didn’t hear. “I’m datin’ ‘Samu.”

TAGLIST : OPEN (send an ask)

#𓇻 Liberosis

[ambcass]

ᴘɪᴄɴɪᴄ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ||ᴊᴀɪᴍᴇ ʀᴇʏᴇꜱ x ɢɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

I'll try to be more active this month ;) and pls send requests I'm bored

Summary: Jaime notices that you're sad and cheers you up with a picnic date after school

WARNINGS!! ->: Just itty witty bit of angst(maybe), fluff, BAD pet names, cliche writing...., reader having toxic parents, mentions of divorce, hurt/comfot

I had my head down and I couldn't barely focus during class. The teacher was clearly blabbing about some useless bullshit that I'll never use in the future. When lunch came, I didn't even eat anything and was already too tired to move. Life has been so bad recently. My parents have been arguing a little too much and they are on the edge of divorce. My grades have been slipping too, I already tried catching up but can't! I don't understand anything these stupid ass teachers are teaching. After the bell rang for 7th period, I felt a pair of hands hug my waist. I flinched, dropping all of my stuff, and tried breaking free. I felt the hands quickly retract before I was able to turn around.

"Woah there! Didn't mean to scare you, sorry babe." It was my boyfriend, Jaime Reyes. Jaime then apologized, picking up my dropped items. Jaime looked at me with worry before he smirked. I already knew he had an idea in mind, I just didn't know if it would be stupid or not. He wrapped his arms around my neck and spoke,

"Nice weather we are having today, don't you think?" I just nodded awkwardly while looking up at Jaime. "Well...I think the two of us should really go out and have fun! Like a date, a picnic date? What ya say, baby?" He looked at me with his big puppy eyes and of course, I said yes.

The both of us agreed to meet up 30 minutes after school in the field not too far from my home. The second I got home, I heard screaming and yelling coming from my parents. I ran to my room and closed my door. Tuning them out was basically a habit. I opened my closet and grabbed the sweater Jaime gave me for our first-ever date. I opened my window and jumped out of it. I didn't care that I still had my window open, I doubt my parents would even care.

On my way is what I texted before Jaime texted back Wait!! I'm setting up. Slow down mi vida. I chuckled, putting my phone in my pocket, and hood on. Once I reached the park, I saw Jaime wave at me. He was sitting on top of a blue blanket with snacks and drinks beside him. I walked towards him, waving, smiling, and feeling some sense of happiness in me. I sat down with him and he offered me some chips.

"Soo sorry if this isn't your favorite, I grabbed what I found in my house." He said, then pointing to all of the other snacks and drinks he brought. "Hope these would be fine. Next time, I'll be sure to visit the store beforehand." Jaime slightly turned his head away, his face turning pink. I smiled and took the bag of ships. The two of us talked and talked for hours on end until the set was starting to set.

I had my head on his shoulder and he had his arm around my waist. I was admiring the sunset but I couldn't help to smile because Jaime's eyes were just practically glued to my face. "Sweetie, your staring can be unsettling," I said, joking obviously. I playfully pushed his head and we both chuckled. He turned back to me, now holding my hand. I stared at him with confusion.

"What? Is there something wrong?" I asked. Jaime just shook his head. "I just have a question...It's alright if you don't answer! It's kinda stupid so..." Jaime tried putting his words together but it looked like he was shy about it. Like really shy. "Oh, a question? Go on. No matter how stupid it is, I still love you." Jaime took a breath before speaking.

"D-do you think we are together in every universe?" I lit up with happiness. I hugged him. "I think that we are always going to be together no matter the case. Whether we're dating or just friends. We are always going to be together, no matter what."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

#ambcassspeaks #ambcasswrites #xolo mariduena #jaime reyes #blue beetle x reader #xolo maridueña #cobrakai #miguel diaz #blue beetle #miguel diaz x reader #jaime reyes x fem!reader #jaime reyes x you #jaime reyes x reader #jaime reyes x male reader #jaime reyes x gn reader #gender neutral reader #female reader #male reader #x male reader #gn reader #fem reader #x reader #x gn reader #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #comfort #divorce parents #dc #dc x reader

[eternally-smitten]

Forever and Always

summary: After a terrible attack, Natalie feels that death truly isn't the end

word count: 1.6k

content warnings: death, blood mention, body horror, zombies/living dead, angst

author's note: i love this au. so much. i needed some sort of angst. i meant to post this a while ago but school got in the way. now, i can finally post it.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Natalie whimpered, crawling over to Herbert’s lifeless body. She cradled him with shaking hands while trying to think straight.

How did it all go so wrong? He was fine, upright and breathing just a few minutes ago. It felt like a blur to Natalie. First, her ideas get stolen. Next, said stolen ideas become more advanced and applied to new subjects. Then, said subjects attacked like feral animals. Now, Herbert is dying in her arms.

“No, you can’t.” She whispered. “You can’t die, you just can’t!”

Herbert wanted to reply. He wanted to reassure her so badly. But whenever he tried to speak, blood gurgled in his mouth and it hurt too much. He weakly cupped her face one more time before going limp. 

Natalie’s eyes went wide and she shook him. “Herb, Herbert! No, don’t do this to me. Don’t play games! Come on,”

She wanted it to be a prank. She wished it was just some horrible, twisted nightmare she couldn’t wake herself up from. A choked cry forced its way out of her throat and she collapsed into his still warm chest. Her tears stained the coat he died in and Natalie could feel the cloth growing damp. She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t accept it.

Maybe she didn’t have to.

A thought popped into her head and it made her sit upright. She absentmindedly rubbed the dripping snot with the back of her hand before reaching for her bag that was hidden amongst the ruins. Natalie clumsily searched through it until she found exactly what she needed: her reagent. Maybe she did not have to live without him, afterall. She found a cure, didn’t she? He was still fresh, too. 

“Okay, okay,” a smile tugged at her lips. “It’s okay, Herbert! See? You’ll be okay! I’ll make sure you’re okay!”

Excitement coursed through her veins as she nervously unbuttoned his shirt to expose his chest. She then popped the syringe into her reagent and took a larger dosage, just as she had time and time again. 

She pinched the syringe between her fingers and hovered over Herbert’s face. “I…I love you, you know that?”

If he could reply, Natalie knew that he would say it back. The thought alone gave her enough comfort to continue with her scheme. With careful hands, she injected her reagent into his heart and watched intensely for his reaction. Death did not have to be the end of them.

It had been two weeks since the chaos happened. Despite the hospital’s attempt to keep a lid on the story, it was all anyone in the area could talk about. Everyone couldn’t stop talking about the gore, the bloodshed, the oddness that surrounded the horrors that happened in the night. There was buzz around the outcasted student, Natalie and her now missing boyfriend, Herbert. It was known that they were together during the events but his body was never found. When asked, Natalie didn’t say much besides quietly muttering that he was badly injured and wanted to be treated at home. She refused to elaborate any further. No one really bought the story but because she was so visibly distraught, everyone left her alone. She was already disturbed enough, they didn’t want to exacerbate that.

Of course, that wasn’t the truth. 

After the massacre happened, Natalie sort of floated through life at school. She went to class, took notes, then left without interacting with anyone. Her classmates were comfortable with this new norm. No one wanted to be associated with the girl found amongst the destroyed morgue in the hospital. 

Today was no different. Once classes were done for the day, Natalie slinked away without a second trace. As soon as you blinked, she was gone. Everyone felt it was best to keep it that way. Natalie’s classmates didn’t want to ask her questions but they also felt funny ignoring what happened with her. She also didn’t want to answer any questions since she isn’t great at lying. This set up worked best for all involved.

The days these past two weeks seemed to drag on slower and slower to her. All she wanted to do nowadays was stay home but her degree mattered to her. Besides, what would Herbert say? He would be disappointed if she didn’t attempt to continue her education in something she was so passionate about. It wasn’t the same without him, though, so she always looked forward to rushing home. 

The door creaked as it slowly opened and the house was dead quiet. She stepped inside and went to shut the door behind her, but something got in the way and kept it ajar.

“Natalie!” Dan said. “Jesus, you look like hell.”

“...Thanks?” She squinted her eyes at him. “What are you doing here?”

He let himself inside and gave her a troubled look. “What do you mean? You barely talk to anyone these days. I wanted to check in on you, I guess. Especially after…Everything.”

Natalie pursed her lips. “Well, that’s very thoughtful of you, Dan. I’m afraid I’m not really free to chat now, so if you don’t mind-”

A low groan interrupted her and made both of them jump. Daniel looked at her, frightened. He assumed the worst and worried someone broke into her house. He knew she lived alone since…

“Nat, okay, we gotta get you out of here.” He said, reaching for her.

She stepped away and shook her head. “No, no, it’s fine! I think the pipes are acting up.”

Another groan echoed in the house, making Natalie wince.

“That is not a damn pipe.”

“Dan-”

“Natalie, come on now,” he said, getting irritated now.

She sighed loudly. “Listen, promise not to freak out if I show you?”

He hated when she asked questions like that because it always meant that yes, it would freak him out and he would not be able to hide that. Instead of voicing that, he swallowed thickly and nodded.

Natalie hesitated slightly before leading him down the basement steps. It was dark and cold and Dan felt this looming sense of dread as he followed her. She walked ahead of him and quickened her pace as they got closer to the room. Then, she flicked the light switch on and ran to whatever was making the noise.

“Herbie, I’m home.” She said calmly, taking his lifeless hand in hers. 

Dan stood on the last step speechless. His dead friend was standing before him holding the hand of his other friend. But it wasn’t Herbert. At least, not how he used to be. His eyes were glassy, his mouth was slightly hanging open, and his movements were sluggish. 

“You promised you wouldn’t freak out.” Natalie huffed, clearly irritated by him.

“I-I-I-” He stuttered, not sure how exactly to respond.

She ignored his shock and turned her attention back to her undead boyfriend, “I missed you today. These days are so boring nowadays.”

Herbert tilted his head to the side. “Missed…you.”

“That’s not Herbert.” Dan said, still in shock.

Natalie snorted. “Of course it is! Aren’t we looking at the same person?”

Daniel took slow, careful steps towards them and shook his head. “Yes, and no that is not the Herbert we knew.”

She shrugged. “It clearly is, Daniel. He responds just like a human would so the Herbie he was before must still be here now.”

“He’s responding to you like any animal would!” His voice wavered and echoed in the cold basement.

“Animals can understand words and feel love, too.” Natalie cupped Herbert’s cheek and grinned at him. “At the end of the day, we’re all animals.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You know exactly what I meant! Have you lost your mind?”

She looked displeased. “You already knew about my reagent so I don’t understand why you’re so hysterical. Why aren’t you happy that your friend is back?”

“Dead is dead, Natalie.” He couldn’t look at Herbert too long without feeling sick. “It was fine at first when it was little pinky mice and roadkill you found but now you’re playing God.”

“I just wanted my boyfriend alive again.” Natalie said plainly. “And, well, I had the means to do so. Wouldn’t you do the same if you were in my position?”

Dan was speechless. He wanted to shout at her. Tell her that no, he would never dream of doing the same thing if he ever lost the love of his life. But he couldn’t bring himself to utter those words. He watched as Natalie carefully interacted with the reanimated Herbert and how he seemed to respond in an almost human way.

He seemed to recognize her, try to talk back, and even love her the way he did before when he was alive. It was kind of…sweet? In an odd, disturbing way, sure.

“You don’t let him roam the house, do you?” He finally asked, breaking the awkward silence that fell between them.

Natalie rolled her eyes. “Well, duh, yeah I do. It’d be cruel if I just kept him down here all the time. I just have him stay down here while I’m away.”

Daniel sighed heavily. “I don’t know why I’m surprised at this point.”

“I’m not sure either.” She replied, never looking away from Herbert. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to help him upstairs. Unless you’d like to stay for tea?”

Against his better judgment, he agreed to tea. He watched in terrified amazement as Natalie led Herbert up the stairs and to the kitchen. He also grimaced when one of Herbert’s eyes fell out and plopped on to the table. It was also a sight to behold watching Natalie gently put it back into place for him. Dan couldn’t ignore the fact that they seemed just as loving as before, though.

“Love…you.” Herbert worked up the energy to speak to her as she sat next to him.

Natalie smiled and took a long sip of her tea. “I love you too, Herb. Forever and always.”

tag list: @kylars-princess @bobmckenzie @maviwavis i'm going to leave it at that since i'm not sure if anyone else wants to be tagged in something like this LOL

#🫀꒦꒷alive again꒷꒦🧪 #my stuff ♡ #au: 🔄💉 #tw blood #tw death #tw zombies #tw body horror #ok to rb!